Terror in the Sahel: What’s Fuelling JNIM’s Momentum in Mali?

The ‘Shuffle and Reshuffle’ of Groups and Alliances

In the Sahel region, the JNIM alliance was formed through the unification of four Islamist militant groups affiliated with Al-Qaeda: the Macina Liberation Front (MLF), Ansar Dine, al-Mourabitoun and AQIM. This coalition was formally announced in a video released on 2 March 2017, featuring key figures from each group declaring the establishment of JNIM. Among them were Amadou Koufa (MLF leader), AQIM’s Sahel Emir and deputy commanders Djamel Okacha and Abderrahman al-Sanhaji, Iyad Ag Ghali (also known as Abu al-Fadhel), head of Ansar Dine and Muhammad Ould Nouini of al-Mourabitoun, operating under the leadership of Mokhtar Belmokhtar.

This merger held particular significance due to its diverse ethnic and regional makeup, encompassing Arab jihadists from both the Maghreb and the Sahel, alongside Fulani and Tuareg fighters. This diversity projected an image of unity, though in reality, the coalition comprises various factions with distinct agendas, regional loyalties and ideological inspirations. Currently, JNIM is led by Iyad Ag Ghali, the founder of Ansar Dine, with Amadou Koufa and Abu Jalil al-Fulani—who commands the less influential Katiba Serma offshoot of the MLF—playing prominent roles.

Ag Ghali, a member of the influential Ifoghas Tuareg clan from Mali’s Kidal region, previously took part in the Tuareg rebellion of the 1990s. After being denied leadership of the Tuareg separatist group MNLA, he established Ansar Dine in 2011. By 2012, Ag Ghali had aligned Ansar Dine with AQIM and briefly cooperated with MNLA, proclaiming an Islamic state in northern Mali in May of that year. Subsequently, Ansar Dine and AQIM overpowered the Tuareg separatists in key cities such as Kidal and Timbuktu. Throughout 2012, hardline Islamist groups dominated northern Mali before pushing into the more densely populated central regions (Afriyie 2024; Afriyie et al. 2020).

At the request of the Malian government, a joint military operation involving French and African forces—known as Operation Serval—was launched in January 2013. This intervention effectively disrupted militant groups, forcing them to retreat into the remote and difficult terrain of northern Mali. In the aftermath, Iyad Ag Ghali recruited fighters from the disbanded Ansar Dine to establish a political foothold in the region, aligning with various armed factions. Following the dispersal of Ansar Dine, Amadou Koufa began spreading extremist ideology in central Mali. A Fulani native of Niafunké, Koufa is believed to have embraced radical views after encountering Pakistani Dawa missionaries in the 2000s. He exploited longstanding grievances among Fulani herders to gain local support, all while advocating for an Islamic theocracy. By 2015, with the aid of relatives, Koufa had established a strong base in central Mali.

As leader of the FLM, Koufa launched the most lethal insurgency within the JNIM coalition, challenging traditional power structures and seeking to impose Sharia law. Through its association with Ansaroul Islam—a Burkina Faso-based jihadist group founded by Koufa’s follower, Ibrahim Dicko—the FLM extended its reach into northern Burkina Faso. After Dicko’s death in 2017, jihadist activity expanded along the Burkina Faso-Niger border, capitalising on pre-existing criminal networks. Ansaroul Islam eventually merged back with the FLM as the latter advanced southward from Mali into northern and central Burkina Faso.

The FLM found fertile ground in these densely populated areas, benefiting from a broader recruitment base and illicit trade. Analysts estimate that JNIM-linked groups generate $18–35 million annually, primarily through extortion at strategic transit points, artisanal mining and, to a lesser degree, ransom kidnappings (Nellemann et al. 2018). Despite its affiliation with AQIM, JNIM has struggled to gain deep-rooted local support across the Sahel and has seen its influence wane in Algeria, where it initially rose to prominence.

The unclear status of AQIM’s Sahara branch and the al-Mourabitoun faction underscores the symbolic centrality of JNIM in the region. As a coalition, JNIM projects unity and strength, masking the internal challenges each faction faces. Since 2016, the scale and intensity of violence in the Sahel have surged dramatically—largely driven by the FLM. However, its integration into the broader JNIM alliance has helped shield the group from international scrutiny, even as its influence and appeal continue to grow (Eizenga and Williams 2020).

Objectives and Ideology

JNIM’s central objectives are to expel Western forces from the Sahel and establish a global Islamic emirate governed by strict Sharia law. The group has openly declared its opposition to France and its Western allies—especially the United Nations peacekeeping forces deployed in Mali since the beginning of Operation Serval in 2013. JNIM’s ideology mirrors the global Salafi-jihadist doctrine, which frames the world in binary terms: a relentless conflict between the forces of Islam and their adversaries, with one side destined to be defeated. Rooted in this worldview, JNIM claims to be fighting for the unification of Muslim communities across North and West Africa, aiming to overthrow secular governments and replace them with austere Islamist regimes (Afriyie 2024). The integration of various al-Qaeda affiliates into the JNIM coalition aligns with al-Qaeda’s renewed strategic emphasis on ‘solidarity’—a coordinated effort to implement Sharia effectively in areas not fully under jihadist rule.

In a public video statement, JNIM’s leadership pledged to confront Western forces—referred to as ‘crusaders’—through a unified and coordinated jihadist front. Yet, as outlined by leader Iyad Ag Ghali, the group’s operational strategy also involves expanding its territorial influence and training fighters for targeted attacks, while simultaneously fostering positive relations with local populations to sustain grassroots support (Afriyie 2023, 2024).

Recruitment and Sources of Funding

JNIM is estimated to have as many as 6,000 fighters, making it the most heavily armed militant group in the Sahel and one of the most formidable globally. These estimates, while varied due to the group’s secretive nature and limited reliable intelligence, are broadly supported by Western and West African officials as well as independent analysts. Most assessments agree that JNIM’s combat strength numbers in the several thousands, with an upper limit close to 6,000. The group’s recruitment thrives in the governance vacuum of Mali’s northern and central regions and neighbouring areas. It exploits socio-economic vulnerabilities—such as poor governance, economic hardship, ethnic tensions, political instability and public dissatisfaction with corruption and state neglect—to attract new members.

JNIM also sustains and expands its operations through extensive exploitation of natural and illicit resources. A major source of revenue is artisanal gold mining, especially in Mali and Burkina Faso. The group controls numerous informal mining sites, where it collects taxes and protection payments from miners and traders. These sites can collectively yield over 725 kg of gold annually, worth approximately $34 million (Eizenga and Williams 2020). JNIM’s role in artisanal mining goes beyond taxation. It often provides security and maintains de facto control over mining zones, sidelining state authorities. Through this presence, the group embeds itself into local economic structures and functions as a shadow governance body, leveraging gold revenues to fund its military and political agendas (Beevor 2022; Kapetanovic 2025). The extracted gold is frequently funnelled into international black markets, notably in Dubai and Turkey, via unauthorised traders—linking JNIM to global illicit supply chains (Kapetanovic 2025).

In addition to gold, the group profits from other illicit activities such as cattle rustling, where livestock is stolen from uncooperative communities and sold across borders, and illegal timber trade, smuggling valuable species such as ebony and rosewood, often in collaboration with Chinese syndicates (Beevor 2022). Furthermore, JNIM is deeply entrenched in contraband trafficking, including drugs, motorcycles and other smuggled goods. By controlling key transit routes and natural reserves, the group offers smugglers protection in exchange for a share of the profits. This alliance with organised crime bolsters its logistical capabilities and financial endurance (Kapetanovic 2025).

Beyond physical resources, JNIM relies on coercive taxation, imposing zakat (Islamic tax) and protection fees on local populations, merchants and pastoralists—enforced by threats or violence. This system ensures a steady income stream while solidifying the group’s influence in contested areas (Beevor 2022; Eizenga and Williams 2020). Another lucrative tactic is kidnapping for ransom. JNIM routinely abducts Western nationals or obtains hostages from criminal networks, demanding ransoms through intermediaries to bypass international counterterrorism finance laws. In 2020 alone, the group collected £30 million from European hostages. From 2020 to 2023, it was responsible for over 845 kidnappings, often receiving payments via third parties to avoid being directly linked to terrorist financing (CERIS 2021; Sippy 2025).

Targets and Tactics

JNIM directs its attacks against a wide array of targets, particularly government and security forces. The group frequently assaults military and police personnel from Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger and other regional states, employing tactics such as ambushes, suicide bombings and organised raids on military installations. A notable example is the January 2025 assault on a fortified army outpost in Benin’s Pendjari National Park, which resulted in the deaths of at least 28 soldiers—one of the deadliest incidents in the region in recent years. Comparable strikes in Burkina Faso and northern Togo highlight JNIM’s growing influence beyond its traditional Sahel stronghold (Ingale 2025; Thompson 2021).

Additionally, JNIM has attacked French troops and the G5 Sahel joint counterterrorism force. A prominent example is the 2018 suicide car bombing targeting a G5 Sahel base in Sévaré, Mali. The group also frequently targets UN peacekeepers and other international actors assisting regional governments (Beevor 2022; Thompson 2021). Although JNIM does not engage in indiscriminate violence against civilians, it systematically targets individuals and groups it deems collaborators with state forces or rivals. Victims include local militias, community leaders and civilians resisting JNIM’s authority. The MLF, a core JNIM faction, has been particularly active in carrying out such attacks in central Mali and northern Burkina Faso (Eizenga and Williams 2020; Thompson 2021). JNIM’s violence often inflames ethnic and communal conflicts, especially between Fulani herders and other communities. Moreover, the group strikes critical infrastructure—such as roads, bridges and government facilities—to undermine state authority and economic stability, further eroding governmental control (Thompson 2021).

JNIM utilises a versatile and adaptive range of strategies to accomplish its goals. The group often employs hit-and-run assaults and ambushes against military patrols and convoys, capitalising on their familiarity with the terrain and superior mobility to strike swiftly and retreat before facing a stronger counterforce (Eizenga and Williams 2020; Thompson 2021). A defining feature of JNIM’s operations is its use of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), which target both military and, occasionally, civilian vehicles, resulting in heavy casualties and widespread intimidation. Notably, following a 2019 IED attack that killed civilians, the group issued an unusual apology, suggesting selective restraint in targeting non-combatants when it aligns with their strategic goals (Thompson, 2021). Additionally, JNIM has carried out suicide bombings, including vehicle-borne IEDs (SVBIEDs), to breach heavily fortified military positions and inflict mass casualties, underscoring its readiness to employ extreme violence for tactical advantage (Thompson 2021). The group also systematically assassinates local leaders, militia commanders and perceived collaborators, while kidnappings serve dual purposes—instilling terror and generating ransom revenue (National Counterterrorism Center 2022; Thompson 2021). Beyond armed attacks, JNIM enforces strict Islamic governance in territories under its control, mandating dress codes, prohibiting certain activities and implementing Sharia-based judicial systems. This approach not only strengthens its authority but also functions as a recruitment strategy (National Counterterrorism Center 2022; Thompson 2021).

Political Factors

The political sphere plays a vital role in upholding law and order within any societal framework. In the context of Mali, numerous lawmakers, civil society activists and community leaders have consistently advocated for embedding democratic principles—particularly decentralisation—arguing that its absence has left Mali’s democratic foundations precariously unstable. The critical importance of decentralisation, as well as the urgency of reinforcing it, is emphasised by the International Crisis Group, which noted that ‘today’s decentralization constitutes the favor of the government and its allies—not only as a response to the sense of marginalization in the North but also as a means of enhancing governance reform’ (International Crisis Group 2014).

In an effort to reinforce this vision, the États généraux de la décentralisation was convened—a landmark conference that gathered diverse stakeholders to chart long-term solutions to Mali’s governance challenges. The underlying logic for bolstering decentralisation was that expanding the number of communes would increase elected positions, thereby fostering stronger representation, responsiveness and legitimacy in government (Pézard and Shurkin 2015).

Nonetheless, decentralisation has not been without complications. Rather than fostering cohesion, it has sometimes deepened divisions among local actors. As the International Crisis Group observed, many communities have yet to fully embrace the democratic ethos, particularly the principles of electoral competition and the non-zero-sum nature of politics. Further critique came from a local leader, who remarked that decentralisation became dysfunctional due to the absence of real devolution of power. Instead of promoting unity, it exacerbated existing fractures—such as in Kidal, where power struggles emerged between the Kunta and Arab communities. According to Berabiche (2013), ‘Decentralization was defiled because there has been no transfer of competence. Rather, the local divisions were underlined…. The Kuntas wanted their hegemony to be strengthened, while the Arabs wanted their own voice’.

Furthermore, many of the challenges undermining decentralisation in Mali can be traced back to a persistent lack of financial and human resources. These deficiencies have significantly hindered administrative and institutional performance, as emphasised by Lebovich (2017). This clearly illustrates that Mali’s decentralisation efforts have long been supported by fragile systems with limited capacity. Compounding this problem is the one-size-fits-all approach to decentralisation, which failed to account for the unique historical and institutional frameworks of northern Mali. This oversight has continued to impede the effectiveness of local governance (Gutelius 2007).

From a broader governance perspective, David Gutelius highlights how internal community power struggles have further destabilised local political structures. His analysis illustrates how a ‘winner-takes-all’ political culture—where elected leaders enjoy unchecked authority to fill key positions exclusively from their own party—has led to the uncontrolled exploitation of public resources. This dynamic has fostered both intense electoral rivalry and entrenched clan-based competition.

Taken together, these observations depict a decentralisation model riddled with systemic flaws. Addressing these issues demands proactive reforms that align decentralisation with the developmental priorities of the people. Such reforms should aim to strengthen government presence at the grassroots level while mitigating regressive effects such as fragmentation. Equally critical is the restructuring of Mali’s governmental architecture to support a more inclusive and effective governance model.

The prevailing political arrangement, in which the incumbent government exercises near-total control over power and resources, has fostered a deeply polarised environment characterised by an ‘us versus them’ mentality. This concentration of authority has left opposition groups feeling excluded, marginalised and disenfranchised. In response, these groups often engage in strategies aimed at undermining the government’s credibility both within Mali and on the international stage, thereby fuelling tensions that are counterproductive to national unity and development.

To mitigate the damaging effects of the winner-takes-all system, the reform process must begin with constitutional changes, underpinned by a sincere political commitment to inclusivity. These reforms should mandate the integration of members from diverse political parties into government roles. Such an approach would not only ease political friction and foster a more stable environment for governance but also enable the country to fully leverage the skills and talents of its citizens, irrespective of their political or social affiliations.

Economic

One of the key drivers of Mali’s recurring political instability lies in deep-rooted economic issues. The country’s worsening economic conditions have exacerbated widespread inequalities, further dividing its population. This has led to a stark developmental gap between the north and south, fostering feelings of marginalisation—especially among the Tuareg people, who primarily inhabit Mali’s impoverished northern regions. Due to persistent poverty and underdevelopment in the north, the Tuareg have long suffered from insufficient government investment in their area.

Although Mali’s economy relies heavily on tourism, agriculture remains a critical sector, accounting for 43% of GDP. However, the Tuareg, who are mostly resource-poor farmers, blame their economic struggles on the government’s failure to prioritise agricultural investment. This sentiment has grown stronger as tourism revenues have declined, leading to prolonged job losses (Chauzal and Van Damme, 2015). The Tuareg’s frustration is evident in an Al Jazeera interview, where one individual lamented: ‘We can’t support our families because the government isn’t investing enough in agriculture’. Another Tuareg echoed these grievances, stating: ‘We rely on imported food while our own farms produce enough—yet we can’t sell because of government policies’.

The economic foundations of northern and southern Mali stand in stark opposition. The northern regions, largely populated by the Tuareg, are primarily dependent on agriculture, while the southern areas thrive on the export of non-traditional commodities such as gold and cotton. Further complicating the already sensitive dynamics surrounding Tuareg identity and Mali’s broader instability is the government’s ban on tourism—a policy that has significantly undermined the northern economy and the livelihoods of its people. In response to these growing economic frustrations, some Tuareg groups have aligned with anti-state actors, at times resorting to violence and encouraging recruitment into insurgent factions (Davis 2018).

Collectively, these factors have cast a deepening shadow over Mali’s stability, which reached a more acute and visible crisis point in August 2020. Persistent shortages in essential public services—such as roads, electricity, healthcare and water—combined with mounting labour unrest and demands for improved working conditions, have starkly exposed Mali’s fragile economic state. These developments point to a mounting sense of instability, suggesting the nation is burdened by an increasingly unsustainable socio-economic weight (The North Africa Journal 2020).

The World Bank underscores the severity of Mali’s economic crisis, reporting that over 40% of the nation’s 20 million citizens live in extreme poverty (Al Jazeera 2020). This dire situation fuelled widespread frustration, which erupted into mass protests beginning in June, as thousands of Malians took to the streets demanding the resignation of President Keïta’s administration. His government was widely viewed as ineffective and lacking a clear vision for the country’s future. Youth unemployment, in particular, became a glaring issue, affecting nearly one-third of the population. Under Keïta’s leadership, it had soared to nearly 15%, more than double the 7% rate when he assumed office eight years earlier. Similarly, the national poverty rate rose from 45% in 2013 to nearly 50% by 2020. In 2019 alone, more Malians were displaced by conflict than at any other point in the country’s history. Simultaneously, the country’s healthcare system deteriorated further, and the looming threat of economic hardship continued to plunge millions into despair (Obaji 2020).

Amid rising political tensions, opposition politicians, civil society actors, religious leaders and segments of the security apparatus united under the June 5 Movement (M5-RFP). Their goal was to express collective outrage at the government’s poor handling of the COVID-19 crisis, surging unemployment, growing inequality and the relentless violence in Northern and Central Mali, perpetuated by extremist groups linked to Al-Qaeda and the Islamic State.

Social

A range of social dynamics have played a pivotal role in shaping the conditions that fuel political instability in Mali. A widely circulated narrative centres on entrenched corruption within the government—a perception that has continually provoked populist sentiments since the onset of democratic reforms in the 1990s. Although public expectations regarding the outcomes of this democratic experiment have varied, disillusionment grew markedly during the presidency of Amadou Toumani Touré, as many came to view democracy as a mere façade. Feelings of marginalisation were compounded by a governance system seen as indifferent and ineffective in providing essential services and public goods. Additionally, allegations of state capture further deepened public frustration, with powerful elites closely aligned with the ruling government believed to be manipulating state institutions to serve their own interests at the expense of the citizenry (Davis 2018).

For example, prior to this period, media outlets reported extensively on the close relationship between President Keïta and Corsican businessman Michel Tomi, who was later prosecuted in France for corruption and money laundering (Shipley 2017). Incidents of high-level corruption and the misappropriation of public resources escalated to a point of near impunity, ultimately eroding the integrity of key institutions, including the National Army (New York Times 2013). A report from the Bureau du Vérificateur Général and the Auditor General’s Office estimated that corruption, financial mismanagement and lack of transparency accounted for an annual loss of 4%–5% of the national budget. Similarly, an audit conducted in the 2013–2014 fiscal year uncovered fraudulent activities and mismanagement that led to the disappearance of 150 billion Communauté Financière Africaine (CFA) francs (EUR 243 million), severely straining relations between Mali and its international development partners. In 2014, controversies surrounding the irregular procurement of a presidential jet further aggravated tensions with the International Monetary Fund (IMF 2015).

Additional cases emerged involving senior officials implicated in misconduct. In 2016, the US State Department disclosed that Mali’s anti-corruption agency, l’Office Central de Lutte Contre l’Enrichissement Illicite (OCLEI), had initiated a new investigation into the mismanagement of a $2.4 million pension fund (United States Department 2016). Although the fund’s chairman was initially imprisoned, his subsequent release only reinforced widespread public suspicion regarding President Keïta’s alleged complicity in systemic corruption.

Another significant issue was the prevalence of nepotism and cronyism under President Keïta’s administration. Media outlets frequently highlighted his pattern of appointing close family members and allies to influential governmental roles. Among the most controversial was the appointment of his son, Karim Keïta, as Chairman of the National Assembly’s Defense Committee in 2014—a move widely criticised as emblematic of favouritism. Similarly, his father-in-law, Issaka Sidibé, was appointed President of the National Assembly. Another notable case was Moustapha Ben Barka—formerly Minister of Investment Promotion and later Deputy Secretary to the Presidency—who was reportedly married into Keïta’s family, making his elevation a textbook example of nepotism (Shipley 2017).

The extent of corruption was further illustrated by the 2016 World Bank Enterprise Survey, which revealed that 43.9% of 185 companies surveyed in Mali believed that offering gifts to officials was necessary to facilitate business operations. Additionally, 33.7% of firms reported experiencing at least one instance of bribery—well above the Sub-Saharan Africa average of 22.2%. A staggering 70.6% of businesses identified corruption as a major obstacle to enterprise. Complementing these findings, an Afrobarometer (2017) report found that nearly half (49.5%) of 1,200 respondents perceived government officials as corrupt. These patterns of favouritism, systemic corruption and public discontent culminated in a widespread loss of confidence, ultimately contributing to President Keïta’s overthrow in August 2020.

Security

Analysing Mali’s political crisis without adequately addressing the underlying security challenges risks producing a partial and superficial narrative. Indeed, the persistent surge in radical anti-state movements has been a central axis of the country’s instability since its independence in 1960. One of the earliest manifestations was the 1963 Tuareg uprising, driven by dissatisfaction with political marginalisation. This was followed by another major rebellion between 1990 and 1996. At the outset of this conflict, the formation of a unified identity under the banner of the ‘Azawad Liberation Movement’ (MPLA) enabled the group to consolidate power, laying the groundwork for a renewed insurrection in 2006.

By then, although the Tuareg resistance had fragmented into various factions—including the Popular Liberation Front of Azawad (FPLA), the Revolutionary Liberation Army of Azawad (ARLA), the Azawad Arab Islamic Front (FIAA) and the Popular Movement of Azawad (MPA)—their collective threat remained significant. Internal divisions deepened, and by May 2006, a schism between the MPA and ARLA resulted in the creation of the Alliance for Democratic Change. Since then, Mali’s political landscape has seen the emergence of extremist groups such as Ansar Dine, Al-Qaeda, al-Mourabitoun, the MLF and the Movement for Oneness and Jihad in West Africa (MUJAO) (Béré 2017).

The proliferation of these insurgent organisations is tightly linked to the nation’s persistent instability, notably during the crises of 2012 and more recently in 2020 (Klute and Lecocq 2013). Although these factions differ in ideology and tactics, they are united by a shared grievance: deep-rooted discontent over the stark sociopolitical and economic disparities between northern and southern Mali (Klute and Lecocq 2013). Unless deliberate and inclusive efforts are made to address these imbalances, the recurrence of violent upheavals will likely continue to define Mali’s political reality. Given that perceptions of state incapacity to curb insurgency contributed significantly to the August 2020 coup, it is essential for the government to adopt decisive and coordinated strategies to confront the nation’s security challenges directly.

Restore Governance Legitimacy Through Local Empowerment

The Malian government should prioritise genuine decentralisation that not only delegates administrative duties but also allocates sufficient resources and decision-making power to local authorities. Strengthening the role of community leaders, traditional institutions and civil society will enhance accountability, promote grassroots ownership and build resilience against extremist infiltration.

Promote Inclusive Development to Combat Inequality and Marginalisation

Focusing development efforts on historically underserved areas—particularly those inhabited by Fulani and Tuareg communities—is critical. Both national and international stakeholders must invest in education, healthcare, infrastructure and agriculture to foster economic opportunity and reduce the underlying socio-economic conditions that contribute to radicalisation.

Reform and Professionalise the Security Sector

Transforming Mali’s security forces into a disciplined, rights-respecting and community-oriented institution is essential. Building trust with local populations requires robust accountability systems, comprehensive training and transparent oversight to curb corruption and prevent abuses that extremists exploit to gain support.

Disrupt JNIM’s Financial Infrastructure

A coordinated national and regional strategy is needed to dismantle JNIM’s funding mechanisms. This involves formalising and protecting artisanal mining, tightening border controls, regulating trade corridors and enhancing financial intelligence capabilities to intercept revenue from kidnappings, smuggling and illicit commerce.