They left themselves vulnerable to the very forces now attacking them
On April 25, a coordinated offensive by Tuareg nationalist and Islamist forces struck across Mali, killing thousands and assassinating the junta's defense minister in a single day of violence that shook a regime already caught between competing imperial ambitions. The assault was not merely a military event but a geopolitical one — shaped by France's enduring interest in reasserting influence over a country that had turned toward Russia, and enabled by Ukrainian drone technology operating within NATO's broader strategic framework. Mali's junta, which rose to power on genuine popular anger at French occupation, had never translated that anger into a politics capable of defending ordinary people — and in that failure lay the opening its enemies exploited. The question left behind is whether the anti-imperialist aspirations of African workers and the poor can find expression beyond the choices offered by rival great powers.
- Between 10,000 and 12,000 fighters struck simultaneously from the north, center, and south of Mali, killing the defense minister in a car bomb and briefly seizing cities including Mopti — a scale of coordinated violence the junta had not anticipated.
- Russia's Africa Corps, stationed to prop up the regime, negotiated its own retreat from Mopti and left hundreds of Malian soldiers behind as prisoners, exposing the fragility of the junta's most important security partnership.
- Evidence of Ukrainian fiber-optic drones, French strategic maneuvering through Tuareg and Algerian proxies, and the junta's own bourgeois opposition calling for power transfers all converged on a single day — revealing the offensive as a geopolitical operation dressed in military clothing.
- The junta's political isolation deepened as its opposition issued statements from exile in Algiers and Paris, while Malian workers and rural populations — the natural base for any genuine resistance — remained visibly absent from the public response.
- The crisis is landing not as resolution but as escalation: energy blockades threaten major cities, the regime's legitimacy is fractured, and the broader Sahel watches a familiar imperial playbook — last used to destroy Libya in 2011 — being run again.
On the morning of April 25, Mali's military junta faced coordinated attacks across the country. Surprise assaults hit northern cities like Kidal and Gao, central towns including Mopti and Sévaré, and pushed toward Bamako itself. Between 10,000 and 12,000 fighters — drawn from Tuareg nationalist militias and Al-Qaeda-linked Islamist groups — had shaken a regime that had ruled for over a decade.
The offensive's most symbolic blow came in Kati, where a car bomb killed Defense Minister Sadio Camara, the junta's second-in-command and the principal architect of its alliance with Russia. Residents described the day as pure chaos — heavy weapons fire from dawn to afternoon in Bamako, markets shuttered and families barricaded in Mopti, police stations overrun. The junta reported 16 civilian deaths, though the true toll likely reached into the thousands.
The attacking forces — the Al-Qaeda-linked JNIM and the Tuareg nationalist Azawad Liberation Front — had established a formal partnership and coordination of actions. The Russian Africa Corps, stationed to support the junta, negotiated its own withdrawal from Mopti, leaving hundreds of Malian soldiers behind as prisoners. Islamist and Tuareg forces then moved to blockade energy supplies to major cities.
The geopolitical dimensions were unmistakable. Ukraine, entirely funded by the EU and operating within NATO's framework, had announced its intention to influence African affairs and reportedly supplied fiber-optic guided drones to the attacking militias. France appeared to be orchestrating the broader operation: the Tuareg nationalists had historical ties to Paris, and Algeria's military regime — which backed the offensive — maintained close relations with French power. The playbook echoed 2011, when France armed militias to destroy Libya's government and destabilize the entire region.
The junta had come to power in 2021 riding genuine popular anger at French military occupation. But it had never pursued a politics capable of defending that anger. It refused to appeal to working-class opposition in France, rejected redistributive policies toward the rural poor, and negotiated with American envoys even as it postured as anti-imperialist. Its bourgeois opposition, scattered in exile across Algiers and Paris, called for national dialogue and accused the junta of security failure — while no mass mobilization of Malian workers or rural populations materialized in response to either side.
The April 25 offensive exposed the limits of anti-imperialism without socialist politics. France's real target was not the army — long a neocolonial instrument — but the aspirations of workers and oppressed peoples across Africa. Whether those aspirations could find genuine expression, or would be crushed between competing imperial powers, remained the urgent and unresolved question.
On the morning of April 25, Mali's military junta woke to coordinated attacks across the country. Surprise assaults struck northern cities like Kidal and Gao, central towns including Mopti and Sévaré, and even reached toward the capital, Bamako, in the south. By the time the initial wave subsided, between 10,000 and 12,000 fighters—drawn from Tuareg nationalist militias and Islamist groups—had shaken the regime that had ruled Mali for over a decade.
The offensive's most symbolic blow came in Kati, where a car bomb killed Defense Minister Sadio Camara, the military junta's second-in-command and a principal architect of Mali's alliance with Russia. For residents caught in the violence, the day unfolded as pure chaos. A Bamako resident told Radio France Internationale that heavy weapons fire began around 6 in the morning and continued until afternoon. "We were truly terrifying, we were afraid," the person recalled. In Mopti, another witness described a city seized by panic: markets shuttered, families barricaded in their homes, police stations overrun. The junta reported 16 civilian deaths in its initial communiqué, though the true toll on both sides likely reached into the thousands.
The attacking forces represented an unlikely but coordinated alliance. The Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims, a faction linked to Al-Qaeda, fought alongside the Azawad Liberation Front, a Tuareg nationalist movement. A Tuareg political figure confirmed to RFI that the two groups had established "a partnership" and "coordination of actions." The Russian Africa Corps, stationed in Mali to support the junta, was forced to abandon Mopti after negotiating its own withdrawal—but not before leaving hundreds of Malian soldiers behind as prisoners. The Islamist and Tuareg forces then moved to blockade energy supplies to major cities.
What made this offensive significant was not merely its military scope but its geopolitical context. Evidence pointed to involvement by Ukraine, which had announced in late March its intention to "comprehensively influence the situation on the African continent" and had reportedly supplied fiber-optic guided drones to the attacking militias—technology developed on the Russo-Ukrainian front. Yet Ukraine could not act independently. It remained entirely funded by the European Union and operated within NATO's strategic framework. Behind the scenes, France appeared to be orchestrating the operation through multiple proxies: the Tuareg nationalists had historical ties to Paris, and the Algerian military regime, which backed the offensive, maintained close relations with French power.
The junta's response revealed its political isolation. Mali's bourgeois opposition, the Coalition of Forces for the Republic, issued a statement offering condolences while demanding that the military cede power. The group's leaders were scattered—their imam, Dicko, exiled in Algiers, other figures based in France. They called for "national dialogue" and accused the junta of security failure. Notably absent from the public record was any mass mobilization of Malian workers or rural populations against either the junta or the attacking forces.
This silence pointed to a deeper contradiction. The junta had come to power in 2021 riding a wave of popular anger at French military occupation. Officers hostile to French presence had consolidated control and, to shield themselves from Paris's retaliation, built a pragmatic alliance with Russia's capitalist regime. But they had never pursued revolutionary politics. They refused to appeal to working-class opposition in France itself, where the Macron government was widely despised. They rejected redistributive policies toward rural farmers and herders—the very populations from which Tuareg nationalists and Islamists drew recruits. In doing so, they left themselves vulnerable to the very forces now attacking them.
France's strategy was not new. In 2011, Paris had armed Islamist and tribal militias to overthrow Libya's government, destabilizing the entire region and creating the conditions for its subsequent intervention in Mali. Now, more than a decade later, it was repeating the playbook: mobilizing proxies to install a regime more amenable to French economic and strategic interests. A senior official at Germany's Konrad Adenauer Foundation observed that the Islamists lacked the capacity to govern cities; they sought to provoke negotiations or force a government change. Yet he also noted that while most Malians were unhappy with conditions, they still supported the junta over the alternative.
The April 25 offensive exposed the limits of the junta's anti-imperialist posturing. By rejecting a socialist struggle against capitalism itself, by refusing to mobilize workers across Mali and the broader Sahel, by negotiating with American envoys even as the Trump administration bombed Iran, the military regime had left itself defenseless against imperialism's maneuvers. The real target of France's operation was not the army itself—that had long served as a neocolonial instrument. The target was the anti-imperialist aspirations of workers and oppressed masses across Africa. Whether those aspirations could be channeled toward genuine liberation, or would be crushed between competing imperial powers, remained the urgent question.
Citações Notáveis
We were truly terrifying, we were afraid. We were woken up by heavy weapons fire and then, after an hour of exchanges, we realized it was a terrorist attack.— Bamako resident to Radio France Internationale
The population is panicked, there was no market, almost all families are sheltering at home and houses are shut.— Mopti resident to Radio France Internationale
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does France want to remove this junta if it's already been Mali's military instrument for decades?
Because the junta stopped taking orders. In 2021, officers hostile to French presence took power. They kicked out French troops and allied with Russia instead. France can't tolerate that—it needs a regime that will protect its economic interests in Mali.
So the Tuareg militias and Islamists attacking on April 25—they're French proxies?
Not directly. But France is maneuvering them. The Tuareg nationalists have historical ties to Paris. Ukraine supplied the drones, but Ukraine is funded by the EU and acts within NATO. Algeria backed the offensive and maintains close French relations. It's a web of proxies, not a direct operation.
The junta came to power because Malians were angry at French occupation. Why didn't they consolidate that support?
They never went far enough. They built an alliance with Russia for protection, but they refused to mobilize workers, refused to redistribute land to farmers and herders, refused to appeal to working-class opposition in France itself. They played bourgeois politics instead of revolutionary politics. That left them exposed.
So the real losers here are ordinary Malians?
Yes. Thousands died in the initial assault. Hundreds of soldiers were taken prisoner. Cities are blockaded. And the choice being forced on Mali is between a junta aligned with Russia or a regime aligned with France—neither serves the Malian masses. That's the trap of bourgeois anti-imperialism without socialism.
What would have actually worked?
A revolutionary movement that unified workers in Mali with workers in France and across Africa against imperialism itself. Not choosing between Russian and French capitalism, but rejecting both. The junta couldn't imagine that because it was never willing to challenge capitalism.