During his recent visit to Moscow, Malian transitional president Assimi Goïta presented a Tuareg saber to Russian President Vladimir Putin, declaring that this symbolic object would allow him to “neutralize all his enemies.” A few weeks earlier, Niger’s Prime Minister, Lamine Zeine, presented Rwandan President Paul Kagame with a Tuareg artwork, adorned with the Agadez cross, a powerful emblem of the Tuareg people’s identity.
These highly symbolic gestures could be seen as signs of cultural diplomacy. But in the current context, they above all reveal a profound contradiction—even a cynical exploitation of a thousand-year-old cultural heritage—by regimes that, at the same time, harshly repress the communities that are its guardians.
A facade recognition
Tuareg art, rich, refined, and embodying an image of freedom, has become a diplomatic tool for the military regimes in Bamako and Niamey. Offering a sword or a painting to foreign heads of state is an attempt to embody an Africa proud of its traditions. But this staging masks a brutal reality: these same authorities, who promote Tuareg aesthetics internationally, do not hesitate to marginalize, stigmatize, and even persecute Tuareg populations on their own soil.
An invisible war against the Tuaregs of Azawad
In Mali, Assimi Goïta’s government has been waging a ferocious military campaign in the Azawad region for months. Under the pretext of fighting terrorism, entire villages are being bombed by drones, and Tuareg civilians are being targeted in what increasingly resembles a punitive expedition. Russian mercenaries from the Wagner group—now renamed AFRICA CORPS—are accused of participating in these operations, sowing terror and devastation.
This repression primarily targets Tuareg-majority regions such as Kidal, Ménaka, and Tessalit, considered by the regime to be hotbeds of rebellion. But it is civilians, nomads, children, and the elderly who are paying the highest price. And meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away, a Tuareg saber is being presented with great pomp to the Kremlin as a symbol of honor and power.
Persistent marginalization in Niger
In Niger, the situation is hardly better. The military junta in power since the overthrow of President Bazoum maintains an authoritarian centralization in Niamey, without any real dialogue with the Saharan regions. Prime Minister Lamine Zeine’s gesture in Kigali, by offering a Tuareg work, contrasts with the lack of political, economic, and cultural recognition of the Tuareg in national spheres. Their presence in institutions is marginal, and their voice is often stifled.
Art as a political alibi
These gestures of cultural diplomacy could bring unity and respect. But when disconnected from a sincere desire for inclusion and justice, they become mere propaganda tools. They serve to polish an international image while consolidating an authoritarian, ethnocentric, and often violent power.
If the military juntas of Mali and Niger love Tuareg art, they must also love the Tuareg. They must recognize their right to live in peace, to exist politically, and to participate fully in the life of their nation. Otherwise, these swords, these paintings, and these symbols will be nothing more than hollow trophies, offered on the corpses of a culture that we admire but refuse to respect.
Mohamed Ag Ahmedou Mehari Consulting
05-07-25