bloc

“Bienvenue a Bamako!” The fixer, the minder and the men linked to the Malian government were waiting for us at the airport in Bamako. Polite, smiling – and watchful.

It was late December, and we had just taken an Air Burkina flight from Dakar, Senegal across the Sahel, where a storm of political upheaval and armed violence has unsettled the region in recent years.

Mali sits at the centre of a reckoning. After two military coups in 2020 and 2021, the country severed ties with its former colonial ruler, France, expelled French forces, pushed out the United Nations peacekeeping mission, and redrew its alliances

Alongside Burkina Faso and Niger, now also ruled by military governments backed by Russian mercenaries, it formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) in September 2023. Together, the regional grouping withdrew from the wider Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) bloc, accusing it of serving foreign interests rather than African ones.

This month, leaders from the three countries converged in Bamako for the Confederal Summit of Heads of State of the AES, the second such meeting since the alliance was formed. And we were there to cover it.

The summit was a ribbon-cutting moment. Leaders of the three countries inaugurated a new Sahel Investment and Development Bank meant to finance infrastructure projects without reliance on Western lenders; a new television channel built around a shared narrative and presented as giving voice to the people of the Sahel; and a joint military force intended to operate across borders against armed groups. It was a moment to celebrate achievements more than to sign new agreements.

But the reason behind the urgency of those announcements lay beyond the summit hall.

In this layered terrain of fracture and identity, armed groups have found room not only to manoeuvre, but to grow. Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), an al-Qaeda affiliate, has expanded from rural Mali, launching attacks across the region and reaching the coast of Benin, exploiting weak state presence and long-unresolved grievances.

As our plane descended toward Bamako, I looked out at an endless stretch of earth, wondering how much of it was now under the control of al-Qaeda affiliates.

From the airport, our minders drove us fast through the city. Motorbikes swerved around us, street hawkers peddled their wares, and Malian pop blared from speakers. At first, this did not feel like a capital under siege. Yet since September, armed groups have been operating a blockade around Bamako, choking off fuel and goods, the military government said.

We drove past petrol stations where long queues stretched into the night. Life continued even as fuel grew scarce. People sat patiently, waiting their turn. Anger seemed to have given way to indifference, while rumours swirled that the authorities had struck quiet deals with the very fighters they claimed to be fighting, simply to keep the city moving.

‘To become one country, to hold each other’s hand’

Our minders drove us on to the Sahel Alliance Square, a newly created public space built to celebrate the union of the three countries and its people.

On the way, Malian forces sped past, perhaps toward a front line that feels ever closer, as gunmen linked to JNIM have set up checkpoints disrupting trade routes to the capital in recent months. In September 2024, they also carried out coordinated attacks inside Bamako, hitting a military police school housing elite units, nearby neighbourhoods, and the military airport on the city’s outskirts. And yet, Bamako carries on, as if the war were taking place in a faraway land.

At Sahel Alliance Square, a few hundred young people gathered and cheered as the Malian forces went by, drawn by loud music, trivia questions on stage and the MC’s promise of small prizes.

The questions were simple: Name the AES countries? Name the leaders?

A microphone was handed to the children. The alliance leaders’ names were drilled in: Abdourahamane Tchiani of Niger. Ibrahim Traore of Burkina Faso. Assimi Goita of Mali. Repeated again and again until they stuck.

Correct answers won a prize: a T-shirt stamped with the faces of the alliance leaders.

Moussa Niare, 12 years old and a resident of Bamako, clutched a shirt bearing the faces of the three military leaders.

“They’ve gathered together to become one country, to hold each other’s hand, and to fight a common enemy,” he told us with buoyant confidence, as the government’s attempt to sell the new alliance to the public appeared to be cultivating loyalty among the young.

France out, Russia in

While Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger went through separate political transitions, the paths that brought them into a shared alliance followed a similar pattern.

Between 2020 and 2023, each country saw its democratically elected leadership removed by the military, the takeovers framed as necessary corrections.

In Mali, Colonel Goita seized power after months of protest and amid claims that President Ibrahim Boubacar Keita had failed to curb corruption or halt the advance of armed groups.

In Burkina Faso, the army ousted President Roch Marc Christian Kabore in early 2022 as insecurity worsened; later that year, Captain Traore emerged from a counter-coup, promising a more decisive response to the rebellion.

In Niger, soldiers led by General Tchiani detained President Mohamed Bazoum in July 2023, accusing his government of failing to safeguard national security and of leaning too heavily on foreign partners.

What began as separate seizures of power have since become a shared political project, now expressed through a formal alliance. The gathering in Bamako was to give shape to their union.

One of the key conclusions of the AES summit was the announced launch of a joint military battalion aimed at fighting armed groups across the Sahel.

This follows months of escalating violence, as regional armies assisted by Russian mercenaries push back against armed groups who have been launching attacks for over a decade.

Under the previous civilian governments, former colonial ruler France had a strong diplomatic and military presence. French troops, whose presence in the region dates back to independence, are now being pushed out, as military rulers recast sovereignty as both a political and security imperative. The last troops left Mali in 2022, but at its peak, France had more than 5,000 soldiers deployed there. When they withdrew, the country became a symbol of strategic failure for France’s Emmanuel Macron.

But even before that, French diplomacy appeared tone deaf, and patronising at best, failing to grasp the aspirations of its former colonies. The common regional currency, the CFA franc, still anchored to the French treasury, has become a powerful symbol of that resentment.

Now, French state television and radio have been banned in Mali. In what was once the heart of Francophone West Africa, French media has become shorthand for interference. What was lost was not only influence, but credibility. France was no longer seen as guaranteeing stability, but as producing instability.

Across the Sahel and beyond, anti-French sentiment is surging, often expressed in French itself – the language of the coloniser is now also the language of resistance.

‘Like a marriage of reason’

At the end of the summit, Mali’s Goita was preparing to hand over the AES’s rotating leadership to Traore of Burkina Faso.

Young, charismatic, and the new rock star of Pan-Africanism, Traore, in particular, has captured young audiences with help from a loose ecosystem of pro-Russian messaging and Africanist influencers. Across social media platforms, short videos circulate relentlessly: speeches clipped for virality, images of defiance, and slogans reduced to shareable fragments.

Meanwhile, in Burkina Faso, journalists and civil society actors who have criticised the military rules have been sent to the front line under a conscription policy introduced by Traore. Human rights groups outspoken about alleged extrajudicial killings say they have been silenced or sidelined. But much of it is dismissed as collateral, the price, supporters argue, of sovereignty finally reclaimed.

Before the ceremony, we met Mali’s finance minister. At first, he was confident, rehearsed, assured. But when pressed about financing for the ambitious infrastructure projects the three governments have laid out for the Sahel, his composure faltered and his words stuttered. This was a government official unaccustomed to being questioned. The microphone was removed. Later, away from the camera, he told me, “The IMF won’t release loans until Mali has ironed out its relations with France.”

The spokesperson, irritated by my questions, took me aside. As he adjusted the collar of my suit, slowly and patronisingly, he said he sometimes thought about putting journalists in jail “just for fun”.

He did not question the organisation I worked for. He questioned my French passport; my allegiance. I told him my allegiance was to the truth. He smiled, as if that answer confirmed his suspicions.

In the worldview of Mali’s military government – men shaped by years on the front line, living with a permanent sense of threat – journalists and critics are part of the problem. Creating safety was the challenge. The alliance, the spokesperson explained, was the solution to what they could not find within regional body, ECOWAS.

The half-century-old West African institution is a bloc that the three countries had once helped shape. Now, the AES leaders say its ageing, democratically elected presidents have grown detached, more invested in maintaining one another in office than in confronting the region’s crises. In response, they are promoting the AES as an alternative.

As the Sahel alliance grows, it’s also building new infrastructure.

At its new television channel in Bamako, preparations were under way. The ON AIR sign glowed. State-of-the-art cameras sat on tripods like polished weapons.

The channel’s director, Salif Sanogo, told me it would be “a tool to fight disinformation,” a way to counter Western, and more specifically French, narratives and “give voice to the people of the Sahel, by the people of the Sahel”.

The cameras had been bought abroad. The installation was overseen by a French production company. The irony went unremarked.

To defend the alliance, he offered a metaphor. “It’s like a marriage of reason,” he said. “It’s easier to make decisions when you’re married to three. When you’re married to 15, it’s a mess.” He was referring to the 15 member states of ECOWAS.

‘We will survive this, too’

Two years into the AES alliance, they have moved faster than the legacy regional bloc they left behind. A joint military force now binds their borders together, presented as a matter of survival rather than ambition. A mutual defence pact recasts coups and external pressure as shared threats, not national failures. A common Sahel investment and development bank, meant to finance roads, energy, and mineral extraction without recourse to Western lenders, offers sovereignty, they say, without conditions. A common currency is under discussion.

A shared news channel is intended to project a single narrative outward, even as space for independent media contracts at home. And after withdrawing from the International Criminal Court, they have proposed a Sahel penal court, one that would try serious crimes and human rights violations on their own terms. Justice brought home, or justice brought under control, depending on who you ask.

What is taking shape is not just an alliance, but an alternative architecture, built quickly, deliberately, and in full view of its critics.

Where ECOWAS built norms slowly, through elections, mediation, and consensus, AES is building structure. Where ECOWAS insists on patience, AES insists on speed.

To supporters, this is overdue self-determination, dignity restored after decades of dependency. To critics, it is power concentrated in uniforms, accountability postponed, repression dressed up as emancipation.

From the summit stage as he took over the alliance’s leadership, Traore redrew the enemy: Not al-Qaeda. Not ISIL. Not even France. But their African neighbours, cast as the enemy within. He warned of what he called a “black winter”, a speech that held the room and travelled far beyond it, drawing millions of viewers online.

“Why are we, Black people, trying to cultivate hatred among ourselves,” he asked, “and through hypocrisy calling ourselves brothers? We have only two choices: either we put an end to imperialism once and for all, or we remain slaves until we disappear.”

Away from the summit’s “black winter”, under a sunlit sky in Bamako, life moved on with a quieter rhythm. Music drifted through public squares and streets, carrying a familiarity that cut across the tension of speeches and slogans. It was Amadou and Mariam, Mali’s most internationally known musical duo, whose songs once carried the country’s everyday joys far beyond its borders. Amadou died suddenly this year. But the melody lingers.

Its lyrics hold the secret of the largest alliance of all. Not one forged by treaties or uniforms, but by people, across Mali and the Sahel, in all their diversity.

“Sabali”, Mariam sings.

“Forbearance.

“We have survived worse. We will survive this, too.”

On December 16, Sudanese political parties, armed movements, civil society organisations, and prominent political figures signed a nine-point political roadmap in Nairobi, presenting it as a civilian-led initiative aimed at ending Sudan’s war and restoring a democratic transition.

Framed as an antiwar, pro-peace platform, it seeks to position civilians as a “third pole” against the two military actors in Sudan’s conflict: the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

Its authors say it represents an attempt to reclaim political agency for civilians after months of marginalisation by armed actors and foreign mediators, even though the declaration does not outline any concrete steps towards military reform.

The roadmap reignited longstanding debates within Sudanese political and civic circles about representation, legitimacy, and the persistent dominance of elite-driven civilian politics.

The roadmap

The Nairobi declaration emerged after a statement released by the Quad – Egypt, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and the United States – in September.

The Quad statement called for an immediate three-month truce to lead to a permanent ceasefire, humanitarian access to help civilians, and the creation of a political process for a civilian transition.

It also emphasised excluding remnants of former President Omar al-Bashir’s regime and reforming Sudan’s security forces under civilian oversight, all points that the Nairobi declaration echoed.

The Nairobi signatories included the National Umma Party, the Sudanese Congress Party, civil society organisations – including the Darfur Lawyers Association and the Coordination of Internally Displaced Persons and Refugees – and the Sudan Liberation Movement (SLM-AW) led by Abdelwahid al-Nur.

Former Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok, who led Sudan’s transitional civilian government from al-Bashir’s overthrow in 2019 until the October 2021 military coup by the SAF and the RSF working in concert, also signed the declaration.

It was likewise endorsed by al-Nur, longtime leader of the SLM-AW armed group that controls Jebel Marra in Darfur and has historically rejected what he describes as “elite-driven” political settlements.

Falling short

Sudanese researcher Hamid Khalafallah told Al Jazeera that despite the intent to present a civilian leadership, the declaration falls short of reflecting Sudan’s broader civic movement.

The Nairobi coalition, he argued, mirrors earlier civilian formations that failed to connect with Sudanese citizens, particularly those most affected by the war.

“It’s in many ways a reproduction of former groups that have … struggled to represent the Sudanese people,” he said. “It’s still very much an elite group that does politics in the same way they always have.”

Although resistance committees – neighbourhood groups that emerged from Sudan’s protest movement and helped topple al-Bashir in 2019 – were referenced in the declaration, no committees formally endorsed or signed it.

Drafts were reportedly shared with some grassroots groups, but the process advanced without waiting for collective deliberation – reinforcing concerns that civilians on the ground remain politically instrumentalised rather than empowered.

While al-Nur’s participation was hailed by some as a breakthrough, Khalafallah questioned the underlying motivation, arguing that his inclusion was intended to counterbalance rival military-aligned forces rather than transform civilian politics.

Before the Nairobi declaration, there were three main civilian coalitions in Sudan, each aligned with a warring party or accused of such an alliance.

Tasis is the coalition of political parties and armed movements that was founded in February 2025, before forming the RSF’s parallel government in July 2025, while the Democratic Bloc is a grouping of parties and armed groups aligned with the SAF.

Finally comes Hamdok’s Sumoud, comprising political parties and civil society organisations and accused by SAF of supporting the RSF.

Europe’s one-track civilian strategy

European officials have distanced themselves from the Nairobi initiative.

A senior European Union diplomat, speaking on condition of anonymity, told Al Jazeera that Brussels does not see the Nairobi roadmap as the foundation for a unified civilian process.

“We would like to see only one civilian process, that’s why we are helping the African Union [AU],” the source said. “Everything else is a distraction, like this Nairobi one.”

According to the EU official, the priority is not multiplying civilian platforms but consolidating them under a single credible framework, led by the AU and broadly accepted by Sudanese society.

“Our aim is to create a credible third pole – versus RSF and SAF,” the source said. “An inclusive one, supported by most Sudanese citizens.”

The EU plans to build a broad coalition that can take the lead after the Quad’s humanitarian truce and ceasefire proposals are accepted by the SAF and the RSF, including reforms placing security forces under civilian-led oversight.

The EU’s language reflects growing frustration among international actors with Sudan’s fragmented civilian landscape, while insisting that abandoning it would legitimise military rule by default.

“Of course, we are not naive that civilians will take over tomorrow,” the source said. “But we have to stand for our values.”

The EU official was blunt in assessing the conduct of Sudan’s warring parties, rejecting narratives that frame either side as a governing authority.

“I would not call what RSF does in Darfur ‘governing’, SAF is a bit better – but not much,” the source said.

“Look at the oil deal they did,” the official added. “Money is important; people are not.”

They referred to the latest agreement between the SAF and the RSF – under South Sudanese mediation – that both would withdraw from the Heglig oil facility, with South Sudanese troops deployed to secure the refinery following SAF’s pullout and the RSF’s capture of the site.

Warring parties as spoilers?

US-Africa policy expert Cameron Hudson told Al Jazeera that the Nairobi declaration appears to mimic the Quad’s recent statement, effectively presenting to the international community a roadmap that aligns with pre-existing objectives to gain Quad support.

“My sense is that the Nairobi declaration reverse engineers what the Quad has said,” Hudson said, suggesting that the initiative is designed more to attract international endorsement than to build genuine domestic consensus.

Hudson warned that this approach mishandles the sequencing of Sudan’s political transition, “prematurely” linking ceasefire efforts with reforms of the army or other political changes, arguing that these should remain on separate tracks until violence subsides.

“If what the Quad wants is an unconditional ceasefire, then it needs to pursue that, not create opportunities to trade a ceasefire for political assurances during a transition,” he said.

“For that reason, it is premature to be talking about reforming the army or other political reforms. These should remain in separate tracks for now.”

The tension is stark. The Quad and the European Union increasingly state that neither the SAF nor the RSF should have a political future and that remnants of the Bashir regime must be excluded entirely.

Yet both armed forces remain indispensable to any cessation of hostilities, creating an unresolved contradiction at the heart of international strategy.

EU delays Mercosur trade deal until January amid farmer protests and opposition from France and Italy.

The European Union has delayed a massive free-trade deal with South American countries amid protests by EU farmers and as last-minute opposition by France and Italy threatened to derail the agreement.

European Commission chief spokesperson Paula Pinho confirmed on Thursday that the signing of the trade pact between the EU and South American bloc Mercosur will be postponed until January, further delaying a deal that had taken some 25 years to negotiate.

Commission President Ursula von der Leyen was expected to travel to Brazil on Saturday to sign the deal, but needed the backing of a broad majority of EU members to do so.

The Associated Press news agency reported that an agreement to delay was reached between von der Leyen, European Council President Antonio Costa and Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni – who spoke at an EU summit on Thursday – on the condition that Italy would vote in favour of the agreement in January.

French President Emmanuel Macron had also pushed back against the deal as he arrived for Thursday’s summit in Brussels, calling for further concessions and more discussions in January.

Macron said he has been in discussions with Italian, Polish, Belgian, Austrian and Irish colleagues, among others, about delaying the signing.

“Farmers already face an enormous amount of challenges,″ the French leader said.

The trade pact with Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia, Paraguay and Uruguay would be the EU’s largest in terms of tariff cuts.

But critics of the deal, notably France and Italy, fear an influx of cheap commodities that could hurt European farmers, while Germany, Spain and Nordic countries say it will boost exports hit by United States tariffs and reduce reliance on China by securing access to key minerals.

Brazil’s President Lula says Italy’s PM Meloni asked for ‘patience’

The EU-Mercosur agreement would create the world’s biggest free-trade area and help the 27-nation European bloc to export more vehicles, machinery, wines and spirits to Latin America at a time of global trade tensions.

Al Jazeera’s Dominic Kane, reporting from Berlin, said Germany, Spain and the Nordic countries were “all lobbying hard in favour of this deal”. But ranged against them were the French and Italian governments because of concerns in their powerful farming sectors.

“Their worry being that their products, such as poultry and beef, could be undercut by far cheaper imports from the Mercosur countries,” Kane said.

“So no signing in December. The suggestion being maybe there will be a signing in mid-January,” he added.

“But there must now be a question about what might happen between now and mid-January, given the powerful forces ranged against each other in this debate,” he added.

Mercosur nations were notified of the move, a European Commission spokeswoman said, and while initially reacting with a now-or-never ultimatum to its EU partners, Brazil opened the door on Thursday to delaying the deal’s signature to allow time to win over the holdouts.

Brazil’s President Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva said Italy’s Meloni had asked him for “patience” and had indicated that Italy would eventually be ready for the agreement.

The decision to delay also came hours after farmers in tractors blocked roads and set off fireworks in Brussels to protest the deal, prompting police to respond with tear gas and water cannon.

Protesting farmers – some travelling to the Belgian capital from as far away as Spain and Poland – brought potatoes and eggs to throw and waged a furious back-and-forth with police while demonstrators burned tyres and a faux wooden coffin bearing the word “agriculture”.

The European Parliament evacuated some staff due to damage caused by protesters.