Image caricaturing the plundering of Malian gold by the Russians without giving anything in return. (« Note from the Azawad Support Group: They are actually giving something in return, they are giving the transition what they want, help with the genocide on the Azawadian population. »
Mohamed Ag Ahmedou, July 18, 2025
(Based on an analysis by Sambou Sissoko)
In Mali, time seems to have stood still since Colonel Assimi Goïta seized power in August 2020. What was supposed to be an exceptional transition, in a context of security and institutional instability, has gradually mutated into an authoritarian regime, now fully embraced. The recent announcement of a five-year renewable term “until pacification” marks a decisive political shift. In the absence of elections, the junta has adopted a never-ending agenda.
In a scathing opinion piece, Malian analyst Sambou Sissoko warns: “What was supposed to be an exceptional transition is now a power without end, disconnected from the people and based on arbitrariness.” The junta, he continues, assumes the right to dictate the conditions for its continued rule, hiding behind a term as vague as it is laden with historical significance: pacification.
But this word is far from innocent. It bears the scars of a colonial era where order was imposed through brutal repression. “Pacify,” in the lexicon of Mali’s current military power, does not mean restoring peace, but rather controlling, silencing, and crushing all dissenting voices. This semantic reversal reveals a political strategy: as long as pacification is not achieved according to the criteria of those in power, the return to democratic order can be indefinitely postponed.
But what does this pacification encompass? The end of terrorism? The return of the state to Kidal? The securing of schools that have been closed for years? Or, more prosaically, the eradication of all political opposition? “Nobody knows. And that is precisely the objective,” Sissoko emphasizes. By cultivating this vagueness, the regime is giving itself carte blanche to extend its reign under the guise of a security exception.
Doublespeak Elevated as a Method
The contradictions of military power are increasingly glaring. The regime publicly condemns the armed groups it accuses of terrorism, while integrating some of their former leaders into the transitional institutions. In Bamako, negotiations are taking place behind the scenes with the JNIM jihadists, while the people are being promised a merciless war against the same groups. “Double talk has become a method of government,” observes Sissoko.
This ambivalence fuels a climate of political opacity, where the lack of transparency and the manipulation of the security threat serve as a cover for authoritarianism. At the same time, decrees are being issued to legalize arms purchases outside of any parliamentary oversight. War, far from being a threat to be eliminated, is becoming a strategic lever for maintaining a position of strength.
Towards the Criminalization of Protest
Repression is intensifying. Journalists, opponents, activists: all those who dare to criticize the junta are accused of collusion with the enemy or working for foreign powers. This process, as old as authoritarian regimes, aims to silence any dissenting voice. The transition is gradually transforming into a machine for crushing political alternatives.
Arbitrary arrests are increasing, political parties are marginalized, and civic space is shrinking. Fear and propaganda have once again become instruments of government. As Sissoko summarizes: “This is no longer a transition; it’s an effort to systematically destroy any political alternative.”
A military power that thrives on chaos
The tragedy is all the more profound because the army, presented as the embodiment of the sovereign nation, is itself exploited. Young soldiers die on the front lines, often poorly equipped, while generals thrive in the hushed halls of power. The sacrifice of these soldiers becomes a symbolic legitimacy, misused for the purposes of maintaining authoritarian rule.
This cynicism, Sissoko points out, reveals a brutal truth: “The junta needs insecurity to stay in power. War becomes a source of income. Chaos, an opportunity. The collapse of the state, a strategy.” A strategy that turns its back on the Malian people’s deep-seated desire for democracy, stability, and justice.
A Republic in Peril
What Sambou Sissoko describes in his text is not a simple authoritarian shift. It is a gradual dismantling of the republican ideal. A return to a form of personal power, where legitimacy no longer comes from the people, but from force and fear.
As Mali celebrates the figures of its 1991 revolution and the popular mobilizations against former President IBK, one thing is clear: the country has not escaped despotism; it has changed its ways.