Mali, Niger, Burkina Faso: The State of Military Rule in Africa Thus Far

The United States’ recent decision to engage Mali’s military government appears to be a quiet acknowledgment of the junta’s staying power. Senior Bureau Official Nick Checker’s visit to Bamako last month, framed as a gesture of “respect for Mali’s sovereignty” and a desire to “chart a new course,” signals more than diplomatic courtesy. It is, whether Washington intends it or not, a tacit recognition that Mali’s rulers have successfully carved out space for themselves on the international stage. That is no small feat for a government installed by force.

Recognition, however, does not automatically equal governance. Across the Sahel, the lifeline of military takeovers is as much about survival as it is about competence. Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso — the so-called Alliance of Sahel States — have justified their coups as corrections to failing democracies, promising security, order, and better management. Yet on the ground, the metrics tell a more complicated story.

Security, the primary justification for the coups, remains precarious. In Niger, jihadist attacks continue with alarming frequency. The coordinated assault on Niamey’s international airport in January, allegedly by Islamic State affiliates, underscored both the reach of militant networks and the challenges facing the Nigerien military. Mali has seen repeated attacks in its central and northern regions, despite the presence of Russian-backed security advisors. The supposed stability that these governments promised is far from realized. Fatalities have increased, while United Nations (UN) and regional forces have been forced to pull back in the face of restricted cooperation and a volatile operating environment.

Economically, the picture is similarly troubling. Before the coups, these countries were not economic powerhouses, but democratic openings had fostered measurable improvements. Oversight mechanisms, though imperfect, had begun exposing corruption: Niger’s audits revealed losses in nearly 40 percent of defense procurement contracts, while Burkina Faso’s anticorruption body pursued high-level arrests.

Since military rule took hold, these gains have largely reversed. Niger has missed debt payments, defaulting on over $500 million. Mali struggles to keep the lights on, with Bamako enduring power outages of over 12 hours a day. Transparency reforms have been rolled back. Civil society and media scrutiny is curtailed. Elections remain postponed indefinitely. The promises of effective governance have collided with the realities of logistical strain, limited institutional capacity, and an unaccountable hierarchy.

Human rights abuses compound these failures. In Burkina Faso, military forces reportedly killed 223 civilians in February 2024, including dozens of children, in the villages of Nodin and Soro. International media outlets covering these stories have been expelled. In Mali, reports of massacres affecting hundreds of unarmed villagers continue to surface, with little accountability. Opposition figures, journalists, and activists face detention, intimidation, or forced conscription. In Niger, the former democratically elected president remains under house arrest. Political participation is, for now, largely symbolic; the formal channels of governance that could hold leaders accountable have been suspended or neutered.

Yet these regimes endure. The Alliance of Sahel States was able to formalize its break from ECOWAS, leaning heavily on the argument that the regional bloc does nothing more than serve Western interests. These military governments have been able to deflect diplomatic isolation through partnerships with Russia, China, and Turkey, creating an alternative network of political cover and military support. The U.S. engagement with Mali is therefore as much a reflection of the junta’s ability to navigate these international currents as it is an admission of their domestic successes. Recognition has been earned not through effective governance, but through the art of survival, negotiation, and projecting sovereignty.

That strategy has also relied on shaping perception as much as policy. Recognition has been reinforced through widespread propaganda, particularly from Russia. Russia has had an active and not-so-subtle hand in coups in several Sahelian states, which were preceded by at least a year of intensive disinformation aimed at destabilizing the democratically elected governments in place and amplifying anti-Western sentiment. Following the coups, Moscow moved quickly to legitimize the juntas, offer diplomatic protection, and continue the flow of messaging — this time portraying the new regimes as broadly popular and sovereign defenders against foreign interference.

The broader question is how we measure the “success” of these military governments. By conventional indicators — security, human rights, economic growth, and civic engagement— the record is mixed at best. Militants remain active, regional instability has grown, human rights violations are rampant, and governance remains opaque. Yet the juntas have survived longer than many expected. They have centralized power, delayed elections, and muted dissent without provoking collapse. In a political sense, that endurance is a testament to their strategic calculation, even if it is a poor guide to competence.

This pattern is mirrored elsewhere. Burkina Faso’s Traoré enjoys symbolic popularity among certain domestic constituencies and regional observers, partly because he positions himself as a rebel against Western influence. Mali’s Goïta leverages diplomatic maneuvers to secure recognition without delivering consistent public services. Niger’s junta continues to resist international pressure while managing a fragile economy. None of these governments has meaningfully restored security or advanced citizen welfare. They survive, but they do not govern effectively.

Recognition, engagement, and diplomatic patience may provide these regimes breathing room, but  should not be mistaken for an endorsement of governance. The U.S. visit to Mali tells us something clear: the military government is now an actor whose existence must be acknowledged, not one whose legitimacy should be assumed. Their endurance is a measure of political skill and international pragmatism, not of functional governance. 

The broader danger is that such endurance can become precedent. As juntas persist across the continent, the Sahel offers a cautionary lesson: democracy in Africa remains fragile where civilian governments fail to deliver security, accountability, and economic stability. In those gaps, ambitious officers and opportunistic external actors find space to maneuver. Benin’s thwarted 2025 coup attempt and Nigeria’s more recent alleged coup plot underscore that this pattern is not confined to the Sahel. Where democratic governance falters, the appeal of “corrective” military intervention lingers — and others stand ready to exploit that failure for their own gain.