Mali crisis: how regional power shifts are reshaping the Sahel

Since 2012, Mali has been grappling with a deepening multidimensional crisis that has fundamentally altered the geopolitical landscape of the Sahel. The gradual erosion of central state authority has led to territorial fragmentation, with armed groups and foreign powers vying for control. Once a cornerstone of Western counterterrorism strategies—through operations like France’s Serval (2013) and Barkhane (2014)—Mali underwent a historic turning point in 2022. By demanding the withdrawal of French troops, the Malian junta signaled a strategic pivot toward Russia, placing sovereignty at the heart of its political narrative.

Mali’s ambition crystallized in September 2023 with the formation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), alongside Burkina Faso and Niger. Together, these nations sought to redefine regional power dynamics outside Western influence. Yet this sovereign vision now faces harsh military and diplomatic realities. Coordinated attacks by the Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims (JNIM) and the Azawad Liberation Front (FLA), compounded by internal instability and shifting Russian paramilitary strategies, are testing the alliance’s foundations.

So, how does the current security collapse—and the “negotiated withdrawal” of Africa Corps from Kidal—reveal the fragility of the AES’s sovereignty project amid the complex power play between Algeria and Russia?

military command collapse: from april 25 offensive to the fall of Kidal

The crisis unfolded with a series of warning signs. On April 20, a targeted assassination of a Malian soldier in Konna was followed by an attack on Tessit by the Islamic State in the Sahel (EIS) on April 22. These breaches in defense lines exposed the Malian state’s vulnerabilities. The subsequent arrest of high-profile military figures, including Generals Abass Demblélé and Kéba Sangaré, revealed a climate of fear where security services were prioritizing regime preservation over national security. The French withdrawal had created a security vacuum, one that local solutions—despite Russian support—struggled to fill.

The arrival of Wagner Group forces brought a surge in violence against civilians under the guise of counterinsurgency, exemplified by the brutal “Mourrah” campaign. As the junta failed to stabilize the territory, its sovereign rhetoric clashed with operational failure. On April 25, a large-scale offensive struck key locations simultaneously: Mopti, Konna, Sévaré, Bourem, Gao, Bamako’s Senou Air Base, and the Kati military camp. At Kati, a vehicle bomb destroyed the Defense Minister’s residence, killing Sadio Camara and critically injuring Generals Modibo Koné and Oumar Diarra. The exfiltration of President Assimi Goïta marked the collapse of the political-military command, exposing the regime’s vulnerability.

That evening, the JNIM claimed responsibility for the attacks and, alongside the FLA, announced the capture of Kidal. By April 26, Russia’s Africa Corps had negotiated a withdrawal corridor before abandoning the city, leaving behind critical equipment and munitions. On April 27, the presidency remained silent while the army cited a mere “repositioning,” a stark disconnect from ground realities. Reports emerged of disorganized troop movements, desertions, and communication breakdowns between command centers. Between April 28 and May 1, the situation deteriorated rapidly. A series of coordinated attacks paralyzed vital supply routes connecting Gao, Ménaka, and Ansongo, isolating the region’s key garrisons. Under this encirclement maneuver, the Malian security apparatus showed signs of fracture, with loyalist units retreating toward Ségou and Koulikoro amid relentless armed group pressure and internal disarray.

Factional clashes within the army fueled rumors of an impending coup, while Assimi Goïta’s prolonged absence fueled speculation about a power vacuum. On May 2, rising tensions prompted diplomatic initiatives in Algeria and Mauritania to seek a negotiated political solution. However, these efforts face a mounting obstacle: the tactical alliance between the FLA and JNIM.

FLA and JNIM alliance: historical trajectories, asymmetric warfare, and control of strategic corridors

The alliance between the Azawad Liberation Front (FLA) and the Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims (JNIM) marks one of the most decisive turning points in Mali’s crisis. Rooted in distinct historical trajectories, these groups now share a common goal: to oust the Malian junta and reshape the power balance in the North and Central regions. Yet their convergence is driven by a more immediate objective: regaining control over the strategic spaces that underpin the Sahel’s criminal economies.

This alliance reached its peak during coordinated attacks that led to Kidal’s fall and the rapid disintegration of loyalist forces in the North and Center. The FLA traces its origins to the Tuareg rebellions of the 1990s, 2006, and 2012, driven by long-neglected identity and territorial claims. The Tamanrasset (1991) and Algiers Agreements (2006, 2015) sought to address these grievances, but their incomplete implementation fostered lasting marginalization. Post-2015 divisions, tribal rivalries, and purges by the junta weakened Tuareg structures, paving the way for the FLA’s emergence as the most organized recent expression of these aspirations.

The JNIM, born from the transformation of the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat (GSPC) and later Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), consolidated its Malian foothold in the 2000s. Its current structure resulted from the 2017 merger of Ansar Dine, Al-Mourabitoun, and the Macina Katiba, placing the group under Iyad Ag Ghali’s unified command. Since 2025, the JNIM has pursued an ambiguous “nationalization” strategy: positioning itself as a local political interlocutor while maintaining extreme violence, marked by severe human rights violations and decentralized power structures aligned with local entities.

This approach enables the JNIM to expand its influence in rural areas of Central and Northern Mali, exploiting community tensions, corruption, and state inefficiency. The FLA-JNIM alliance leverages advanced asymmetric warfare tactics. The JNIM’s operational effectiveness relies on hybrid and sophisticated methods, including vehicle-borne improvised explosive devices (VBIEDs) for breaching defenses and rapid motorcycle assaults for exploitation. These tactics are complemented by night infiltrations, intensive use of improvised explosive devices (IEDs), targeted assassinations, and systematic harassment of isolated garrisons to erode troop morale and break local command chains. Mastery of drone technology and anti-aircraft warfare further cements their advantage in skirmishes, as seen in Tinzaouaténe, though they struggle to hold fixed positions.

The FLA contributes critical territorial expertise: intimate knowledge of desert tracks, extreme mobility, lightning strikes, tribal networks, and the ability to hold symbolic zones like Kidal. Their intelligence services are equally effective. The April 26 withdrawal of Africa Corps—after negotiating a corridor—confirmed Bamako’s loss of control over the North.

Beyond military aspects, the conflict is also a struggle for control over resources and trade routes, both licit and illicit. By securing the Kidal-Gao-Mopti triangle, the JNIM and FLA aim to sanctify transit corridors vital to the war economy. Controlling these axes facilitates military financing through smuggling rents (gold, fuel) and illegal trafficking (drugs, migration networks), turning territorial control into a financial lever. Similar dynamics apply along the Bamako-Kayes-Bakel axis, where tolls are extracted daily from the 3,000 trucks supplying Mali via Dakar’s port.

The locking of these Saharan corridors saturated the army’s response capabilities, transforming a mobile war into systemic collapse. The rapid fall of Kidal, Gao, and Sévaré underscores the FLA-JNIM alliance’s effectiveness against a now headless Malian command. The regime’s pillars crumbling and coup rumors in Bamako confirm that the crisis is no longer just security-related but existential for the Malian state.

Yet this political and military void plays into the hands of the Islamic State in the Sahel (EIS), which is expanding its influence amid state collapse.

Islamic State in the Sahel: the beneficiary of Sahelian chaos

The Islamic State in the Sahel (EIS) has emerged as the most volatile and unpredictable actor in the region. Since 2023, it has consolidated its presence in the Ménaka-Ansongo corridor, exploiting the collapse of state structures and rivalries between armed groups to extend control over the Mali-Niger borderlands. Unlike the JNIM, which seeks to “localize,” the EIS pursues an expansionist strategy rooted in terror. It eliminates perceived hostile communities and captures commercial routes. The collapse of the Malian command has opened a strategic space the EIS could exploit either by challenging the JNIM for jihadist leadership or seizing new sanctuaries in a fragmented territory.

In a context where the AES remains unable to unify its forces, the EIS appears as the primary potential beneficiary of Mali’s crisis. This dynamic is amplified by the rushed withdrawal of Africa Corps from key zones, leaving a security vacuum neither the Malian army nor regional allies can currently fill.

Africa Corps in Mali: the end of Russia’s exceptional role

Since 2022, Russia has used Mali as a security laboratory and a strategic projection point into the Sahel. Acting as a “custom security broker,” Moscow provides weapons, instructors, mercenaries, and protection in exchange for mining concessions, logistical access, and political advantages. Its strategy is purely extractive: securing gold and lithium deposits takes precedence over Mali’s development.

Five years after Wagner Group’s initial deployment, Russia’s paramilitary presence has institutionalized under the banner of Africa Corps. This contingent of 1,000 to 1,200 personnel—including instructors, drone specialists, and protection units—operates under the direct oversight of Russia’s Ministry of Defense, with a tactical headquarters in Bamako. Despite this structured network linking the capital to key hubs like Mopti, Gao, and Kidal, the security outcome is paradoxical. Far from restoring stability, intensified violence and loss of rural control underscore the limits of outsourced security. The failure to stabilize territory reveals the inefficacy of a model disconnected from Malian realities.

The reverses in Kidal and Gao in late April 2026 highlight the structural failure of the junta’s partnership with Africa Corps. The negotiated withdrawal of Russian forces symbolizes a major tactical rupture, transforming the “strategic partner” into a retreating actor. Even more telling, the JNIM’s direct communication to the Kremlin—proposing a non-aggression pact while ignoring Bamako—seals Mali’s diplomatic isolation and confirms the junta no longer controls the decision-making center.

Russia’s position is further weakened by Turkey’s rising influence as an alternative security actor. In recent months, Ankara has supplied Bamako with drones, guided munitions, light armored vehicles, and surveillance systems. These assets, more flexible, faster to deploy, and often cheaper, appeal to parts of the Malian military. They also fuel internal rivalries within the junta: some officers align with Turkey, while others remain tied to Moscow. This competition exacerbates the command’s cohesion, already shaken by the death of Defense Minister Sadio Camara, the injuries to General Modibo Koné, and Assimi Goïta’s prolonged absence from public view. Additionally, the use of Turkish private forces to protect the junta leader suggests a rejection of Russian contingents, whose influence now appears in question.

Ultimately, Russia’s posture in the Sahel is undergoing a radical shift: from an offensive sovereign stance to a defensive retreat. Africa Corps’ inability to secure vital routes or hold Kidal exposes the structural limits of Moscow’s security offering against a multisectoral threat. Meanwhile, the rise of Turkey as an alternative weakens Russia’s leverage in Mali.

This void left by the Malian command’s collapse forces a return to regional diplomacy. Algeria, acting as a silent pivot, emerges as the key actor in reshaping the Sahelian balance.

Algeria: the silent pivot of Sahelian recomposition

Since the 1990s, Algeria has played a central role in managing Mali’s crisis. It has sponsored the Tamanrasset (1991) and Algiers Agreements (2006, 2015), viewing Northern Mali as a vital buffer zone for its national security. Its strategy rests on two pillars: preventing foreign forces from establishing a presence near its borders and maintaining a delicate balance among local armed groups in the Sahara.

Algeria seeks a Mali that is neither entirely collapsed nor fully autonomous—a middle ground that keeps Bamako dependent on its mediation. To achieve this, Algiers leverages its historical ties with Tuareg communities while monitoring jihadist groups linked to the GSPC and AQIM. Many leaders of Sahelian terrorist groups emerged from Algeria’s 1990s insurgency. By maintaining communication channels with these groups, Algeria ensures that Mali does not become a rear base for attacks on its northern frontier.

Algeria’s Sahel strategy historically relied on the “Tuareg lever,” instrumentalizing the Azawad movements as a permanent counterweight to Bamako. However, this diplomatic framework collapsed under two ruptures. First, the Malian junta shattered Algeria’s foundational pillar—excluding foreign powers—by inviting massive Russian intervention. Second, Algeria’s rapprochement with Mauritania accelerated under diplomatic leadership, with Nouakchott’s political support and regional funding.

Adding complexity, Morocco’s growing influence in Mali has pushed Algeria to tighten its regional vigilance. By facilitating the AES’s access to the Atlantic and strengthening economic partnerships, Morocco is extending its influence into the Sahel. For Algeria, this is interpreted as a “strategic encirclement maneuver.”

In the current crisis, Algeria emerges as the silent but decisive actor. It refused the presence of Russian mercenaries in Kidal and secured Moscow’s withdrawal in line with its security doctrine. This positions Algiers as the indispensable mediator, despite Bamako’s resistance, for any future political or military recomposition.

Yet Algeria must contend with the AES’s rise. Though politically united against foreign influence, the alliance struggles to translate rhetoric into real military capabilities.

AES: a political project challenged by operational impotence

Established in September 2023, the Alliance of Sahel States (AES)—comprising Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger—champions a sovereign vision aimed at emancipating itself from regional organizations and international pressures while achieving self-sufficiency in security.

The alliance sets ambitious goals, from creating a joint counterterrorism force to establishing a common market and a logistics corridor to the Atlantic. To support this vision, the three juntas have forged partnerships with new strategic allies, including Russia, Turkey, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates. Yet these projects remain largely aspirational.

Like the proposed joint force announced by the regimes, the AES remains largely declarative. It lacks integrated command, common doctrine, or mobilizable operational capabilities. Beyond drones—whose use appears shared between Bamako and Ouagadougou—operational implementation remains murky. The AES’s failure to intervene during Kidal’s fall and recent coordinated attacks underscores the chasm between political ambitions and military means. As Mali lost Kidal, Gao, and key axes simultaneously, no joint force was mobilized, and no solidarity mechanism activated. The AES’s operational silence during Kidal’s fall highlighted the gap between rhetoric and ground reality.

The three AES member states are mired in deep crises. Security-wise, border control is eroding under the proliferation of armed groups. Economically, sanctions and investment droughts are suffocating growth. Institutionally, successive purges are undermining national cohesion. The rupture with ECOWAS further isolates the AES, leaving it without regional partners capable of compensating for its military weaknesses.

Thus, the AES appears more as an instrument for legitimizing incumbent regimes than as a military alliance capable of stabilizing the region durably.

This disconnect between AES ambitions and ground realities opens a period of major uncertainty. Beyond current alliances, it is essential to analyze Sahelian dynamics to predict possible scenarios for regional recomposition.

Predictive analysis of Sahelian dynamics and regional recomposition scenarios

A predictive geopolitical approach helps decipher weak signals and anticipate strategic ruptures that could redefine the regional balance. This methodology highlights four potential trajectories, depending on evolving power dynamics and actor interactions.

The central scenario envisions stagnant tensions, with ongoing attacks and worsening economic conditions, leaving the AES as a political framework without concrete military translation. In contrast, a relative stabilization scenario could emerge if Algerian mediation succeeds in initiating a peace initiative, reducing JNIM and FLA offensives. However, the risk of rapid degradation remains high: a major terrorist attack on a strategic target could precipitate security and social collapse. Finally, a rupture scenario cannot be ruled out, where an unexpected event—such as an internal coup or social explosion—abruptly topples the ruling junta.

Sahel at the crossroads: toward total regional recomposition

Assimi Goïta’s hold on power is now suspended by an exceptionally fragile conjuncture. His ability to restore credible command in a shattered state apparatus is in question. The death of Sadio Camara and the removal of Modibo Koné have broken the junta’s security backbone. Goïta’s prolonged absence fuels speculation and internal rivalries, opening the door to a potential overthrow. The army, weakened by purges and demoralization, is no longer a tool of sovereignty but a fragmented body divided between the National Guard, Ground Forces, and Red Berets, dependent on increasingly volatile external allies.

Since 2025, the JNIM’s blockade around Bamako has drained the capital’s resources, as evidenced by the April 25 attacks. This reveals the political center’s vulnerability and accelerates the social crisis, exposing the state’s collapse. Mali is not just losing ground militarily; it is also losing control of its sovereignist narrative. The withdrawal of Africa Corps, the rise of the FLA-JNIM alliance, Turkey’s growing influence, and Algeria’s diplomatic return illustrate a country once again becoming a space of influence. External powers are redrawing regional balances while European powers turn away from the Sahel, focused on other fronts.

In this recomposition, the Malian people are the greatest victims. They endure insecurity, diplomatic isolation, economic contraction, and a lack of political prospects. Their sovereignty is confiscated by soldiers, armed groups, or foreign powers, each pursuing their own agenda. The democratic project, already fragile since 2012, recedes further. A return to popular sovereignty grows increasingly uncertain.

Meanwhile, Burkina Faso appears as the next vulnerable link. Its porous borders, advancing armed groups, weakening institutions, and growing dependence on external partners foreshadow a crisis that could spread beyond Central Sahel.

This peril underscores the need to assess the Sahel’s evolution in terms of its repercussions on Europe, particularly through migration flows, trafficking, and the emergence of armed groups capable of destabilizing Gulf of Guinea states.

The Mali crisis is ushering in a period of profound recomposition, where state collapse, the rise of armed actors, and competition among external powers are redrawing an unstable Sahel. The repercussions of this transformation will extend far beyond the region.