By Adeoye O. Akinola
The latest escalation of violence in Mali, marked by coordinated attacks across Bamako, Kati, Gao, Kidal, and other strategic locations on the 25th of May, is a stark reminder that the country remains trapped in a cycle of conflict that military force alone cannot resolve. These attacks, which Malian authorities described as terrorism, reveal a deeper national crisis rooted in historical grievances, political exclusion, weak governance, and competing foreign interests.
Mali’s instability did not begin in May this year. It is the continuation of decades of unresolved tensions, especially in the north. Tuareg rebellions date back to the early twentieth century and resurfaced repeatedly after independence. In January 2012, a new wave of attacks by Tuareg fighters and allied armed groups reignited the Malian civil war. During that period, Azawad was declared a self-governing territory by separatist movements seeking autonomy or independence. Although the declaration lacked international recognition, it reflected longstanding frustrations over marginalisation and neglect.
The crisis has since evolved into a far more complex conflict. Today, Mali confronts overlapping threats from Tuareg separatists, jihadist movements such as Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), and local militias operating in fragile regions where state authority is weak. The reported coordination between jihadist groups and northern separatists suggests that formerly distinct actors may now be aligning tactically against the state. Their objectives may differ; some seek territorial control, others political leverage, but they share a common opportunity created by state fragility and disjointed international support.
One immediate trigger of the latest violence appears to be the struggle over control of military bases vacated by French-led forces and United Nations peacekeepers who departed in 2023. Rather than opening a path for stabilisation, the withdrawal created a vacuum. Competition between the Malian army and northern armed groups over these strategic positions intensified tensions. Matters worsened when Bamako effectively sidelined the Algiers Accord in 2024 and launched stronger offensives against Tuareg strongholds. Predictably, rebel groups retaliated. In July 2024, a convoy of Malian and Russian fighters near Tinzaouaten was reportedly ambushed, resulting in significant casualties from both sides. This demonstrates a valid point: military victories in Mali are often temporary, while political failures endure.
Since the coups of 2020 and 2021, the military leadership has promised to restore order, facilitate socio-economic development, and ensure national sovereignty. Yet security conditions appear to have deteriorated rather than improved. Violence has spread, trust in institutions has declined, and uncertainty now surrounds the leadership itself. Reports of the killing of Defence Minister Sadio Camara in Kati raise serious concerns about cohesion within the ruling establishment. Whether these reports are fully confirmed or not, the symbolism is damaging. A government that came to power promising security cannot afford to appear absent during a national emergency.
Mali’s strategic shift away from France toward Russia has also produced mixed results. The presence of Russian African Corps forces (formerly operating as Wagner Group) may have guaranteed regime consolidation and offered the junta short-term military support, but it has not delivered sustainable peace. External partners can provide weapons, training, and intelligence, but they cannot substitute for legitimacy, effective and inclusive governance, meaningful dialogue, and community trust. Reliance on foreign security actors often deepens dependency while inflaming geopolitical rivalries. Claims of Ukrainian links to anti-government forces, recent positive gestures from Donald Trump’s administration, alongside Russian involvement and broader interest from China, suggest that Mali risks becoming another arena for proxy competition.
The greatest danger now is not only continued violence, but the deepening fragmentation of state authority. If northern towns such as Kidal remain contested and pressure grows elsewhere, Mali could drift into de facto partition, with different territories controlled by the army, separatists, jihadists, or local militias. That would be disastrous for internal sovereignty and regional security.
What, then, would realistic stability look like for Mali? First, Mali must confront structural violence: poverty, exclusion, underdevelopment, and political marginalisation. While more than 51% of Malians are within the working-age population, the African Development Bank reports that the country faces a poverty rate of 45% and an unemployment rate of 6.7%. Indeed, communities and groups that feel abandoned by the state become fertile grounds for rebellion and extremist recruitment.
Second, Bamako must engage genuinely with armed northern actors, including separatist representatives willing to negotiate. Durable peace requires political dialogue, not perpetual denial of legitimate grievances. Rebel groups cannot simply be wished away. Third, Mali needs a credible transition toward accountable civilian governance. Military rule may seize power quickly, but it rarely builds inclusive institutions.
Fourth, actors such as the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union (AU) must be reintegrated into peace and security efforts. The Alliance of Sahel States may represent a new regional experiment, but it remains too immature to carry the full burden of stabilising Mali. Finally, international partners should support mediation, development, and institution-building rather than viewing Mali solely through a counterterrorism lens.
Sustainable peace, or what Johan Galtung called ‘positive peace’ in Mali, will not occur through more coups, more foreign mercenaries, or more battlefield offensives. It will happen when the state chooses dialogue over domination, inclusion over exclusion, and justice over military might. Until then, each new attack will simply announce the failure of the previous response, while each life lost to terrorism will reflect a troubling disregard for the sanctity of human life.
Adeoye O. Akinola is an Associate Professor in the Department of Politics and International Relations at the University of Johannesburg.
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