Mali, Russia, and the Collapse of a Dangerous Illusion

By: Michael Mike

The coordinated jihadist assault of 25 to 26 April did not merely expose the limits of the AES and Mali’s military junta. It shattered the strategic illusion that has guided the country since its rupture with ECOWAS and the wider international community.
By Oumarou Sanou

The events that unfolded across Mali last weekend are not merely another chapter in the Sahel’s long-running crisis. They represent something deeper: the unravelling of a strategic gamble that replaced cooperation with isolation, institutions with propaganda, and diversified partnerships with dependence on a single, unreliable and overstretched ally.

On 25 April, coordinated attacks struck Bamako, Kati, Gao, Kidal, and Sévaré simultaneously. These were not isolated incidents but a synchronised offensive that exposed both the operational reach of jihadist groups and the fragility of the Malian state’s security architecture. Within hours, official claims of control began to crumble. By Sunday morning, Kidal had fallen. The Russian flag that had flown there as a provocation to France, ECOWAS, and the UN was gone. In its place stood silence, and a column of Africa Corps mercenaries negotiating a quiet, ignominious exit with the very armed groups they were contracted to defeat. This was not a tactical setback. It was the collapse of a narrative.
For pan-African observers who foresaw and warned of precisely this outcome, the moment calls not for satisfaction but for grief, reckoning, and an honest accounting of how Mali arrived here.
In November 2023, the Malian junta celebrated the recapture of Kidal as vindication: expel the West, distance from ECOWAS, embrace Moscow, and sovereignty would be restored. The claim was always hollow. Kidal was never pacified. It was occupied. No roads were built, no schools reopened, no trust rebuilt with local communities. Russian mercenaries committed documented atrocities in surrounding villages: summary executions, sexual violence, and burning of homes. They did not win hearts. They produced hatred. And hatred, given time and weapons, produces exactly what we witnessed last weekend.

Reports indicate that African Corps forces engaged briefly before negotiating their withdrawal, leaving Malian troops exposed nearly 1,500 kilometres from the capital. A senior Malian official told RFI that Russian forces had been warned of the impending attack three days in advance but took no action. Their eventual withdrawal, he suggested, appeared pre-arranged. That is not a security partnership. That is abandonment.
The human cost was grave. Defence Minister General Sadio Camara was confirmed dead. Intelligence chief General Modibo Koné and Chief of Defence Staff General Oumar Diarra were wounded. These are not routine battlefield losses. They are indicators of systemic failure at the highest levels of the state.
The Africa Corps responded with a press statement claiming sweeping success: 10,000 to 12,000 Western-backed attackers repelled, over 1,000 enemy casualties inflicted, and the presidential palace secured. One would almost admire the audacity, were the stakes not so human.
The documented facts tell a different story. Kidal fell. The Azawad Liberation Front escorted at least 400 Russian soldiers out of the city as evacuees, northward to Tessalit, 300 kilometres away. Fighters subsequently appeared at the Intahaka gold mine, suggesting further positions had been abandoned. Armoured vehicles were destroyed in Gao. Barracks in Sévaré fell to rebel control. Helicopters burned on the ground. The United States Embassy told its citizens to stay indoors. Even reliably pro-junta social media accounts quietly changed their tone by Sunday morning. This is not propaganda written with ink. It is propaganda written with Malian blood.
None of this should surprise serious observers. Moscow’s track record as a security guarantor is, at best, inconsistent. It disengaged from Assad in Syria when the strategic calculus shifted. It left Maduro to manage Venezuela largely alone. It proved of limited use to Armenia when it mattered most. In every theatre, the pattern is the same: arrive with noise, project influence cheaply, and withdraw when the cost rises. Moscow is too economically constrained to underwrite African development and too strategically transactional to sustain durable commitments. It seeks presence, resources, and optics. The safety of ordinary Africans is, at best, incidental.
The Alliance of Sahel States has fared no better. Faced with Mali’s gravest crisis in years, neither Burkina Faso nor Niger mobilised meaningful support. The alliance exists more in declarations than in collective action. Its members now watch events in Bamako with undisguised anxiety: if Russia cannot hold Kidal, what assurance remains for their own positions?
Before the junta expelled MINUSMA, African peacekeepers, including Nigerian troops, helped stabilise Kidal under difficult conditions. They shed blood in pursuit of regional security and were removed without transition or acknowledgement. The vacuum that followed is now plainly visible.
The events of last weekend are not a victory to be welcomed. The expansion of jihadist territory is a catastrophe for every Malian, and a direct threat to Nigeria and the broader region. A movement emboldened by military success does not respect borders. A fragmented regional posture only widens the openings that extremist networks exploit.
The lesson is not about choosing between external patrons. It is about recognising that no external actor, from the East or the West, can substitute for a coherent national strategy, accountable governance, and genuine regional cooperation. Sovereignty is not measured in flags or slogans. It is measured by a state’s capacity to protect its citizens, hold its territory, and create conditions for stability and growth.
On these counts, the current model in Mali has failed. The verdict is written not in policy papers but in burning helicopters and abandoned positions. Africa deserves partners, not patrons: relationships grounded in mutual respect and genuine commitment, not in the fantasy of an ally who negotiates its own withdrawal before the dust has settled.
The twilight of the Russian illusion in Africa is here. What happens next in the Sahel depends, in large part, on whether its leaders and their neighbours dare to learn the lesson.
Oumarou Sanou is a social critic, pan-African observer and researcher focusing on governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, regional stability, and African leadership dynamics.

Contact: sanououmarou386@gmail.com

Mali, Russia, and the Collapse of a Dangerous Illusion

Lafarge Africa rakes in N97.95bn profit in Q1 2026

By Hajara Usman

Lafarge Africa Plc says it has reported a big profit for the first three months of 2026. The company made N97.95 billion after tax. This is much higher than the N48.64 billion it made in the same period in 2025.

The company also earned more money from sales. Its net sales increased to N334.88 billion. This is a 35 percent rise from N248.35 billion last year.

The Chief Executive Officer, Lolu Alade-Akinyemi, said the good result came from higher sales and careful spending. He said better factory work, more production, and improved delivery helped the company grow.

He also said operating profit rose by 97 percent to N141 billion. Profit after tax increased by 101 percent. According to him, this was made possible by strong demand, good cost control, and better supply.

The company said it will keep working with its partner, Huaxin Building Materials Ltd, to improve its operations.

Lafarge Africa added that demand for cement is growing in Nigeria, especially in building and construction. The company plans to continue controlling costs and growing its business.

It also thanked its customers and partners for their support and promised to keep delivering good results in the future.

Lafarge Africa rakes in N97.95bn profit in Q1 2026

2027: Don’t Pull Down the Roof

By Senator Kashim Shettima, GCON

The political season is upon us again, and with it comes the familiar fever of democracy. Across our wards and local governments, across party offices and private homes, consultations have begun. Aspirants are making calls, elders are receiving visits, supporters are counting delegates, and the marketplace of ambition is alive once more.

This is proof that our democracy still breathes. It is evidence that power in our republic is still something to be negotiated, contested, persuaded, and earned. But every season of politics also comes with its temptations. It comes with the temptation to mistake disagreement for betrayal, competition for enmity, preference for exclusion, and media interpretation for truth.

This is why, at this delicate hour, we must speak to ourselves with candour, but also with restraint. We must remind ourselves that a political party is not a battlefield. It is a family. And even in the most spirited family, the roof must never be pulled down because one room appears warmer than another.

We are members of one political household. We may have different aspirations, different loyalists, different zones of influence, different calculations, and different preferred outcomes. That is normal. Democracy was never designed to abolish ambition. It was designed to civilise it. It was designed to teach us that we can compete without destroying one another, disagree without demonising one another, and lose without setting fire to the very platform that gave us a voice.

We must therefore refuse the temptation to be manipulated by the media, by mischief-makers, by vested interests, or by those who profit from division. There will always be those who whisper that one leader has been slighted, that one bloc has been excluded, or that one interest has been buried. These are familiar tricks in the theatre of politics. They are meant to provoke suspicion, inflame supporters, and turn comrades into adversaries before the real contest even begins.

But leadership demands that we rise above provocation. Leadership demands that we ask: who benefits when brothers fight? Who gains when a party weakens itself before facing the opposition? Who profits when those who should be building bridges begin to dig trenches?

The truth is simple. The real challenge before us does not end with the primaries. In fact, it begins after the primaries. The primaries will produce candidates, but the general election will test the strength of our unity. A fractured party may produce a candidate, but only a united party can produce victory. A ticket may be won in a hall, but an election is won in the streets, in the villages, in the markets, in the polling units, and in the hearts of the people.

This is why every party chieftain, every aspirant, every stakeholder, every delegate, and every supporter matters. Each of us is a raindrop, and each raindrop matters in the making of a flood. No raindrop is too small to be ignored. No stakeholder is too insignificant to be respected. No supporter is too ordinary to be heard. The strength of a party is not only in its most visible leaders; it is in the quiet loyalty of the people who stand by it when the applause has faded.

For this reason, moderation must be our watchword. Moderation is not weakness. It is wisdom in public conduct. It is the discipline to speak without poisoning the well. It is the maturity to pursue an interest without injuring the family. It is the grace to understand that today’s disappointment may become tomorrow’s opportunity, and that the bridge we burn in anger may be the road we need in another season.

We cannot all win at the same time. This is the first hard lesson of politics. For every ticket, only one candidate will emerge. Many will consult. Many will spend. Many will hope. Many will be encouraged by supporters, friends, and elders. But at the end of the process, only one name will be submitted. That outcome, however painful to others, is not always an injustice. It is often the unavoidable arithmetic of democracy.

The true test of a politician is not how loudly he campaigns when the wind is behind him. The true test is how he behaves when the wind turns against him. Anyone can celebrate victory. It takes character to manage disappointment. It takes statesmanship to congratulate a rival. It takes patriotism to remain loyal to the house even when the room assigned to you is not the one you desired.

We must also be honest with ourselves. Endorsements are not strange to politics. Preferences are not crimes. Leaders, elders, and stakeholders will naturally have opinions about those they believe can consolidate achievements, protect party interests, and advance the public good. But preference must never become provocation. Influence must never become intimidation. Persuasion must never become exclusion. The credibility of our process is the foundation of our legitimacy.

Party leaders must therefore act with fairness. Aspirants must be treated with dignity. Delegates must be allowed to act without fear. Processes must be transparent enough to command respect, even from those who lose. Where there are grievances, they must be addressed with patience and justice. Where there are rumours, they must be answered with clarity. Where there are wounds, they must be healed before they become infections.

But aspirants and their supporters also owe the party a duty of restraint. No ambition is worth the destruction of the platform that nurtured it. No grievance is worth the collapse of the house we all helped to build. No ticket is worth turning comrades into enemies. No loss is final enough to justify permanent bitterness.

Politics is a long road. Those who understand this do not burn their vehicles because of one rough turn. They do not abandon the journey because one gate did not open. Our history is filled with men and women who lost today and won tomorrow, who were overlooked in one season and became indispensable in another, who endured the pain of temporary defeat and later found the door of destiny opened wider than they imagined.

That is the beauty of patience. That is the wisdom of loyalty. That is the reward of staying useful.

We must also remember that the people are watching us. Nigerians are not merely listening to our speeches; they are studying our temperament. They are watching how we manage disagreement. They are watching whether we place service above ego. They are watching whether we can subordinate personal ambition to collective survival. A leader who cannot manage disappointment cannot be trusted to manage power. A politician who destroys his party because he lost a ticket may destroy a state because he lost an argument.

Our great party must not become a victim of its own strength. We are a large family, and large families must learn the art of accommodation. We are a party of many tendencies, many histories, many interests, and many sacrifices. That diversity is not a curse. It is our capital. But it must be managed with humility, fairness, and discipline.

We must not allow outsiders to narrate us into conflict. We must not allow headlines to dictate our emotions. We must not allow commentators, who will not stand with us in the rain, to push us into quarrels that will weaken us in the sun. The media has its place, and public scrutiny is part of democracy. But we must have the wisdom to separate honest analysis from engineered mischief.

At this moment, what our party needs is not noise but steadiness. Not suspicion but conversation. Not bitterness but maturity. Not factional triumphalism but collective responsibility. Every leader must lower the temperature. Every aspirant must discipline his camp. Every supporter must remember that today’s opponent in a primary may be tomorrow’s ally in a general election.

We have a larger duty to our nation. Politics is not an end in itself. It is a vehicle for service. It is the means through which we deliver security, education, jobs, infrastructure, prosperity, justice, and dignity to our people. If we reduce politics to personal entitlement, we betray the people whose mandate we seek. If we turn primaries into wars of ego, we abandon the very citizens who expect governance from us.

His Excellency, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, GCFR, has shown, through a long political journey, that democracy thrives on accommodation, persuasion, resilience, and coalition-building. That example must guide us. The strength of a party is not in the absence of disagreements, but in its capacity to resolve them without losing its soul.

So, I appeal to our leaders: let us be fair. I appeal to our aspirants: let us be patient. I appeal to our supporters: let us be disciplined. I appeal to our party faithful: let us be united. The roof over this house shelters all of us. If we pull it down in anger, nobody will be spared by the storm.

Contest, but do not destroy. Disagree, but do not defame. Aspire, but do not divide. Lose, if it happens, with dignity. Win, if it happens, with humility. And after the primaries, let us close ranks, because the real battle will not be among ourselves. The real task will be to go before Nigerians with one voice, one purpose, and one renewed covenant of service.

Each of us is a raindrop. Alone, we may appear small. Together, we can become the flood that carries our party to victory and our country towards greater hope.

Let us therefore protect the house. Let us preserve the family. Let us choose moderation over mischief, unity over suspicion, and service over ego.

We will all have our season, but only if the house still stands.

By Senator Kashim Shettima, GCON.
Vice President, Federal Republic of Nigeria.

2027: Don’t Pull Down the Roof