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한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском The Spread of Instability from the Sahel Directly Threatens West African Countries, Especially the Gulf of Guinea States (Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo) — recently, there have been more attacks by jihadist fighters in these areas. If these attacks become more successful, it could seriously hurt the global economy, especially the economy of the European Union. Events in spring 2025 show that the jihadist movement is growing in this region, which causes big problems for safety and the economy.Gulf of Guinea Countries Under Attack by Jihadists Before, jihadists attacked only the northern parts of Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo — near the borders with Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger. But on April 24, 2025, they destroyed and captured an army vehicle in the center of Benin, far from the northern border. This showed they can now strike deep inside the country, not just near the border where most of the army is based. It seems this was done to force the army to move some soldiers away from the north, making it weaker there. This could mean that fighting is spreading into areas that used to be safe. A video of the attack was shared by a group linked to the Wagner Group that works in Africa. An even more worrying event happened on May 12. Jihadists attacked a gold mine in Mali, near the town of Narena on the border with Guinea. During the attack, they kidnapped Chinese workers. It’s important to note that the distance between this place and the attack in Benin is about 1,700 kilometers. This shows how far the violence is spreading across Africa. The situation is especially bad in Benin. Its army has been hit very hard in recent years. On April 17, 2025, jihadists destroyed two army posts in the north. The army said 54 soldiers were killed (the attackers said it was 70). Earlier, on January 8, 2025, radical Islamists killed 28 soldiers. In total, over 300 Beninese soldiers have been killed by jihadists between 2019 and 2025. The current year — 2025 — is already the worst so far, with 157 soldiers killed by May. A similar situation is happening in countries next to Benin. For example, in Togo, between 2022 and 2024, at least 37 soldiers and civilians were killed during major group attacks (with 29 of them in 2024 alone). Côte d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast) is also suffering from jihadist attacks. Back in 2016, at least 15 people were killed in one attack, including three elite special forces soldiers. Later, during a series of attacks by radical Islamists in 2021–2022, at least 15 more Ivorian soldiers were killed. And this does not include small attacks carried out by these groups. Reasons for Escalation West African countries became a new target for jihadist attacks for several reasons. Of course, the situation in neighboring Nigeria, where the jihadist group Boko Haram operates (recognized as terrorist and banned in Russia), plays a destabilizing role. Part of this group joined the Islamic State (also banned in Russia). Its appearance helped create instability in the southern Sahel, and a similar process happened in the north after Muammar Gaddafi was removed from power in Libya in 2011. Radical Islamists who took over big parts of Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger want to spread their control even more. These are jihadist “katibas” (Arabic for “unit”), acting under the name of JNIM (an Al-Qaeda branch in the Sahel, banned in Russia) and IS Sahel (Islamic State in the Sahel, banned in Russia). They want to build on their success in fighting French influence in Africa, get rid of it in other countries too — like Benin, Togo, and Côte d’Ivoire — and bring in Islamic rule and sharia law to new areas. This is their “mission,” as they see it. It seems that they will try to do this in the medium term. For now, their main goal appears to be bringing down the weak governments in Sahel countries. Even though the situation in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger is still very bad, and the governments there mostly control only big cities, the jihadists have not yet succeeded in removing these military regimes. One of the reasons for this is the presence of Russian forces in the region, both state-run (“African Corps”) and semi-private (“Wagner Group”). Without removing these governments, it is too risky for jihadists to start big operations to take over other countries. But it is possible that, after facing Russian military experts — who have made the armies of Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger stronger — the jihadists are now trying to focus on West African countries where they are not yet present. It may also be that the goal of jihadist attacks in West Africa is to put pressure on their enemies in the Sahel from the northern areas of the coastal countries in the Gulf of Guinea. For example, by setting up in northern Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo, the jihadists can create safe zones for operations in southern Burkina Faso and Niger, and also threaten the capital of Niger, Niamey. They also place supply camps and families in local forests so that government forces in the Sahel don’t capture them. And finally, they use Gulf of Guinea countries as transit zones to get the things they need. For instance, they smuggle fuel from Nigeria for their vehicles — cars and motorbikes (their “mechanized cavalry”). They pay for this with illegally mined gold and livestock from the Sahel and West Africa. Ghana plays a special role in these operations. It is the only country in the Gulf of Guinea that borders the Sahel but has not yet experienced bloody jihadist attacks. Its geographic location is very important for the logistics of radical Islamists, and the local terrain helps their activities. For example, in northern Benin and Togo there are nature reserves and national parks stretching for hundreds of kilometers — W and Pendjari Parks in Benin, Comoe Park in Côte d’Ivoire, and the Oti-Keran Mandouri complex in Togo. These are rough, hard-to-reach areas with thick forests and poor road networks. Because of this it’s hard for the slow and heavy security forces of local governments to act in these places. But for small, lightly armed jihadist groups, it is much easier to move around and complete their missions. Security Forces Are Not Ready to Fight Jihadists Among the reasons why West African countries cannot succeed in the fight against radical Islamists is the "physical" weakness (as in the case of Togo and Benin) of their state security forces, and their general unpreparedness for conducting quick anti-guerrilla operations. For example, even after being enlarged due to the current crisis, their armies do not exceed 12,300 troops each, including naval forces (which have not really been involved in this fight). This is clearly not enough to effectively control their northern borders with Burkina Faso and Niger, which together stretch more than 700 km. The technical equipment of the armies of Benin and Togo is also poor because of a lack of transport, aircraft (especially drones), and modern gear in general (for example, some armored vehicles are still from the 1950s). The army of Côte d’Ivoire is much stronger. By the end of 2024, it had 22,000 soldiers, including the navy, and more than 5,000 irregular fighters. But even this is not enough to effectively guard its difficult border with Mali and Burkina Faso, which is 1,183 km long and has rough terrain. In such conditions, it is hard to expect a turning point in the fighting. Lack of Loyalty from the Local Population The establishment of jihadist control over the northern areas of Gulf of Guinea countries is also prevented by the low loyalty of the local population. Understanding that without at least some level of support (even if forced and limited) from locals, jihadists from the Sahel would not be able to act so effectively, the security forces of the region often carry out repressions against local people. This clearly does not increase their loyalty to the authorities and creates new problems for the future. These people can seriously harm the military, even if acting passively — for example, by helping jihadists as guides, scouts, or informants. This especially concerns the nomadic herders from the Fulani (or Fula) ethnic group, who are known to form the main part of jihadist groups in the Sahel countries. Many Fulani people also live in West and Central Africa. The high involvement of the Fulani and some other groups in jihadism often comes from their dissatisfaction with their situation. They often feel left out when it comes to getting resources, positions in government, and so on. When they express their dissatisfaction, it is often ignored at best, or met with repression at worst. The dissatisfaction of people in other West African countries with their own governments and the general situation comes from many factors. One of them is the strong and sometimes very fast population growth since the countries gained independence. At the same time, the amount of resources per person, like water and fertile land, has gone down. This has naturally led to more conflicts. Just like in the Sahel, conflicts over water and land between herders, farmers, hunters, and fishermen have gotten worse in West Africa. In the Gulf of Guinea countries, this happened at the same time as the government’s efforts to protect unique nature parks, which were declared reserves, but later became jihadist strongholds. As a result, farming and herding in these areas was greatly limited, and often completely banned, which hit the local economy hard. At the same time, people believe that the governments invested very little in the development of remote northern regions, especially in infrastructure. However, the presence of almost untouched parts of nature, far from cities, did lead to some tourism development (before the jihadists arrived). Because of this, some people who could not succeed as farmers or herders found jobs in tourism. The rebels used local dissatisfaction to their advantage. When they arrived, they removed the government bans on local economic activities (except cutting down the forests that hide their fighters), including hunting rare protected animals. Many local people saw this as a good thing. Prospects for the Fight Faced directly with the threat of Sahelization, the governments of the region are trying to urgently stabilize the situation. For example, the Beninese army (and other security forces) was increased by one and a half times — if at the beginning of the jihadist attacks it had 8,000 soldiers, now it has 12,300. The governments of the Gulf of Guinea countries also turned for help to their former security partners — France and the United States, who started sending modern weapons. But new weapons alone cannot change the situation — not even the use of drones, which are supposed to help better observe the terrain and find jihadist bases. The forests in the conflict zones are so thick that even modern UAVs sometimes cannot spot the enemy, even with poor camouflage. The authorities of Benin and Côte d’Ivoire have started developing border areas and creating jobs for young people, to make it harder for jihadists to recruit them. The Beninese government is also considering helping herders switch from a nomadic way of life to more efficient and less environmentally damaging farming. This idea might work in the long term, but it will need huge resources and could anger herders, who find it very hard to change their traditional lifestyle. Togo, which is poorer, cannot keep up with Benin and Côte d’Ivoire. Its government is mainly just running information campaigns and talking about the dangers of jihadism. So, the measures to stop jihadist expansion in these countries are not well coordinated. There is also a lack of cooperation in the fight itself. For example, Islamist radicals have escaped many times into neighboring Sahel countries, and this happened because there was no agreement that would let the security forces of one country pursue enemies into another. It is important to note that back in 2017, seeing the growing threat from jihadists, the Sahel and Gulf of Guinea countries signed the “Accra Initiative”, which became an anti-jihadist alliance. But soon after that, coups hit the region, removing pro-French governments in the Sahel countries, while in the coastal states of the Gulf of Guinea (except for Guinea itself), pro-Paris governments stayed in power. This damaged relations between the Sahel countries and the West African countries that remained loyal to France. Benin, Côte d’Ivoire, and Togo, still somewhat supported by France, joined the blockade of Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, and even considered military intervention. The military governments of the Sahel, in turn, began to actively cooperate with Russia. Since then, there has been no coordination between the former allies in the fight against jihadism. And until this conflict is resolved, it is hard to expect any effective cross-border fight against jihadists. Therefore, even in the short term, the situation in the region will likely get worse — because the Sahel’s population keeps growing rapidly, and as they move south into West African countries, competition for limited resources will keep increasing. How the Escalating Struggle Shapes the Global Landscape and Russia’s RoleDespite the destabilizing effect of “Sahelization” and the spread of jihadism into the coastal countries of the Gulf of Guinea, there are some opportunities for Russia. For example, it is possible that the people of West African countries, just like those in the Sahel, will lose trust in France — especially if Paris fails to stop the jihadist advance. As a result, we cannot rule out the possibility of anti-French coups in Gulf of Guinea countries. Russia could use this to further weaken the West, and France in particular, during the ongoing conflict in Ukraine. Other countries will also try to fill the growing political vacuum in the region. The United States is already doing this, by giving military and technical help to these countries and clearly trying to push out French influence. In the worst-case scenario (if the governments of the coastal West African countries collapse), jihadists could reach the major shipping routes of the Gulf of Guinea. Since important global trade routes pass through this area, this would be a direct threat to international trade, especially for the European Union. However, for now, this seems possible only if the entire state system built in Africa after the end of colonial rule completely falls apart. A much more serious danger may come from jihadists reaching the border with Guinea, or pushing further south into coastal West African countries. In the first case, the threat affects the world economy, because Guinea supplies 20% of the world’s bauxite — the raw material used to make aluminum. Guinea also has rich deposits of iron ore and other minerals. It's important to note that not only the West, but also China depends on these supplies. Russian companies also work in Guinea. That’s why many outside powers (like the USA, Turkey, UAE, Qatar, and others) may be tempted to use Sahel rebel groups to try to change who controls the market in Guinea. Many people in Guinea are unhappy with how the wealth is shared, and most of the population lives below the poverty line. A large part of the population (about one-third of the 14 million people) are again the Fulani, the same active group that often forms the base of rebel movements. Some of them might join the fighters if there is an invasion of Guinea from Mali. As for the attempt to move jihadist activity into central Benin, this is very bad news for the European Union, which hopes to get cheap pipeline gas if the planned “Atlantic” gas pipeline from Nigeria to Morocco is built. So, if jihadists become more active in coastal Gulf countries, it could scare away investors from this expensive project. At the same time, Russia might use the situation to its own advantage.

Another war appears imminent in Tigray; this time the conflict threatens to engulf the region. Eritrea appears ready to join the fighting . Despite the heavy toll of the 2020–2022 war, both the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) and the Ethiopian government have resumed belligerent rhetoric. If fighting resumes, the underlying causes are the TPLF’s pursuit of secession, Abiy Ahmed’s authoritarian rule, and his territorial ambitions. The TPLF has pursued independence since its formation in 1975  by advocating the right to self-determination; it has promoted a narrative rooted in historical exceptionalism and the right to self-determination. That vision matured into a program of statehood during the years the TPLF controlled the Ethiopian government. Between 1991 and 2018, it used state power to lay the political, economic, and military groundwork for secession. Ethnic federalism, introduced under the rhetoric of self-rule, eroded national cohesion. A constitutional clause granted regional states the right to secede unilaterally. Ethiopian nationalism was deliberately undermined; ethnic nationalism was systematically promoted. Ethnic regions were later militarized through the creation of special forces that operated beyond constitutional limits, ostensibly for regional security. Tigray assembled the most powerful of these units—well-armed, well-trained, and well-structured, designed as a paramilitary force prepared to enforce constitutional claims to territory ). These units appear intended to serve as the armies of the independent states they envisioned. In parallel to this build-up, heavy military equipment vital to national defense was transferred to Tigray under the pretext of countering threats from Eritrea. The TPLF later used its special forces and this hardware to wage war against the Ethiopian state. Unrestrained by legal, political, or institutional checks, the TPLF exercised full control over the Ethiopian state. It used that power to extract the country’s natural resources, seize physical assets, and divert financial capital. Under the guise of implementing market reforms recommended by the IMF and World Bank, it transferred state-owned enterprises to firms under its command. The TPLF used the state’s economic apparatus and its control over the private sector to advance its long-term goal of Tigrayan independence. As the TPLF moved toward secession, Ethiopia stood primed for fragmentation, by its constitution, by its leaders, and by its institutions. When a popular revolt removed the TPLF-led government in 2018, the leadership retreated to Mekelle and intensified its campaign for independence. The TPLF escalated its confrontation with the federal government through a series of provocative actions: holding regional elections in September 2020 in defiance of federal authority, expelling federal military officers from Tigray, obstructing troop movements and logistics, and organizing large-scale military parades to project force. Each move appears calculated to provoke a military confrontation with the central government. Convinced that the moment had arrived, the TPLF launched a coordinated assault on the Northern Command on November 4, 2020, as a decisive step toward secession. After two years of devastating war, it failed to achieve its long-term objective. On November 2, 2022, it accepted a cessation of hostilities under the terms of the Pretoria Agreement. Support for secession has increased, fueled by the federal government’s conduct during the war, particularly its decision to invite the Eritrean army into Tigray (Reuters). The Ethiopian Orthodox Church, once a bastion of unity, has splintered. Tigrayan clergy formed a separate synod and severed all ties with the central hierarchy. In the diaspora, former advocates of unity champion independence. Among educated Tigrayans, disillusionment runs deep. Many interpreted the nationwide support for the federal war effort, mostly due to the TPLF’s authoritarianism, as a broader denunciation of Tigrayan identity. For this group, the war was not a political confrontation, but a genocidal campaign. That belief has hardened into a dominant narrative: that civilian deaths were not accidental byproducts of conflict, but deliberate acts of extermination. A rival project of state-building has emerged at the federal level, based on irredentism rather than ethnic autonomy. Abiy Ahmed, an authoritarian ruler backed by a narrow Oromo elite, has declared his intention to govern a unitary state stretching from the Red Sea to the Indian Ocean. He has repeatedly insisted that Ethiopia must secure a seaport, peacefully or by military force. Despite having no coastline, his government established a navy with France’s assistance; he signed a memorandum of understanding with Somaliland to build a naval base—later cancelled—and has advanced a plan for an economic union encompassing Eritrea, Djibouti, and Somalia.Federal authorities have also provided weapons to factional leaders in Puntland and Jubaland to undermine the Somali government). While economic integration offers benefits, Abiy’s strategy to annex or dominate neighbouring states risks regional instability, diplomatic estrangement, and military confrontation. A government committed to external expansion is unlikely to tolerate internal disintegration. Tigrayan secessionism and Abiy’s expansionism stand as twin causes of the impending war. The immediate triggers of renewed war have already surfaced. Abiy Ahmed can invoke a legal casus belli against Eritrea, which continues to occupy Ethiopian territory despite repeated demands from Western governments and multilateral organizations). Eritrea, in turn, could claim self-defence. The TPLF could justify a war by claiming that the federal government has failed to fully implement the Pretoria Agreement. Both sides blame each other for the collapse of the agreement and have resumed hostile rhetoric and provocative actions. The TPLF, ignoring the Pretoria Agreement, has declared that it does not require federal permission to engage with Eritrea). Its leaders have publicly affirmed sovereignty, consistent with the constitutional framework. An Eritrean official has offered explicit support for Tigrayan independence; this has introduced an unpredictable external variable into an already volatile situation). On the federal side, the government has revoked the TPLF’s legal status as a political party, eliminating what remained of the formal political channel). At the same time, Abiy launched a European tour on May 22, likely to secure diplomatic backing for a new campaign). The symmetry with the prelude to the first war is striking: escalating rhetoric, foreign lobbying, and mutual delegitimization. What unfolds is not a fresh crisis but the second act of a war poorly resolved. The TPLF has fractured under the weight of the war it helped to unleash. An internal power struggle—driven by disputes over military conduct, political legitimacy, and personal ambition—split the organization in August 2024 into two factions: one led by Debretsion Gebremichael, the chair; the other by Getachew Reda, the vice chair. Each accuses the other of betraying the people of Tigray). The TPLF fighters are also divided. A large faction supports the Debretsion group, while Getachew’s faction has secured the backing of armed groups in southern Tigray, reportedly trained by the Ethiopian government in the Afar region). These forces have pledged to defend the administrative structure he established. The likelihood of intra-Tigrayan armed conflict is high. Tensions have escalated further as Getachew has leveled serious criminal accusations against the TPLF’s military command. In interviews aired on government television on May 13 and 14, he alleged that senior generals committed war crimes, operated illegal gold mines, embezzled state funds, trafficked humans, smuggled arms, and stripped steel from public infrastructure for sale—even as the war was taking place ). The accused commanders have denied all charges and denounced him as a traitor aligned with the federal government. He further reported that the number of registered TPLF fighters DDR had been inflated and that commanders had embezzled funds intended for their salaries. He accused the same officers of plotting to assassinate him. These are not casual allegations—they come from a man who served as deputy chair of the party, member of the executive, member of its wartime command, spokesperson during the conflict, head of the Pretoria delegation, and former regional president. According to Getachew, the TPLF’s military leadership has a vested interest in restarting the war to avoid accountability. He argues that peace would expose their crimes, while renewed conflict offers protection. As evidence, he cites the leak of secret peace talks in Djibouti between the TPLF and the federal government by one of the implicated generals. The federal government, upon learning of the leak, ended the negotiations. In another case, he claims that when the federal government attempted resettlement of Tigrayans in contested areas, the TPLF commanders demanded that fighters accompany the returnees; the government refused. Getachew alleges the generals are using displaced civilians as “hostages” to obstruct reconciliation. He claims to hold documentary evidence supporting these accusations. While he describes the TPLF as a “criminal enterprise,” he occasionally softens the charge, placing blame on a few bad actors. This contradiction raises a crucial question: if an organization protects offenders and functions as a criminal network, can it still claim political legitimacy? The conflict between the TPLF and the federal government has persisted, but alliances have shifted dramatically. During the first Tigray war, a coalition of federal troops, Eritrean forces, Amhara special forces, and the Fano militia fought the TPLF. That coalition has disintegrated. In April 2023, the federal government disbanded the Amhara special forces while retaining similar units in other regions). It then launched a military campaign to disarm the Fano, provoking armed resistance across the Amhara region. The government has struggled to suppress the rebellion and has lost control of large areas. It accuses the TPLF of aiding the Fano. At the same time, relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea have unraveled. Abiy Ahmed’s declaration that Ethiopia would obtain a seaport—by negotiation or by force—has pushed the two states into hostility). In a startling reversal, the TPLF has begun to align with Eritrea, its former enemy. Reports suggest the Debretsion faction has initiated cooperation with Eritrean officials, despite Eritrea’s continued occupation of territories claimed by Tigray). Getachew alleges that senior TPLF commanders have coordinated military planning with Eritrean authorities. Gebru Asrat, the former Tigray regional president, has made similar claims). Eritrea appears prepared to re-enter the war, this time as a TPLF ally. One Eritrean official has gone further and has expressed support for Tigrayan independence, as stated earlier. But given their history of mutual hostility, unresolved border disputes, and clashing ambitions, the alliance remains fragile. It may serve tactical needs, but it is unlikely to survive strategic realities. Strategic miscalculation is a crucial risk in this war, as it was in the previous one. During the first Tigray war, both the federal government and the TPLF overestimated their military capacity and underestimated their opponent’s. The war yielded no victory. Instead, both sides accepted a cessation of hostilities after enduring political crisis, economic hardship, and human catastrophe. The result crippled both actors. Despite renewed threats, confrontational posturing, and aggressive rhetoric, neither side appears ready for war. In Tigray, the public is exhausted. People demand peace, basic services, the return of the displaced, and the restoration of infrastructure. The struggle for basic needs outweighs the desire to engage in another war. While support for independence remains high, many Tigrayans question whether the embattled TPLF can govern a region, let alone a future state. Among Tigrayans, the yearning for peace far exceeds the willingness to fight another war. The Eritrean government, although it commands a disciplined army, lacks the diplomatic support and military capabilities to confront a stronger adversary. Its economic base is fragile; its population is small, overburdened by years of forced conscription, and exhausted by endless mobilization. Eritrea’s international isolation—worsened by sanctions, strained relations with neighbors, and a dismal human rights record—undermines its capacity to secure foreign military or financial assistance. These constraints—weak economy, fragile population base, diplomatic isolation, and limited military resources—reduce Eritrea’s capacity to sustain a protracted war The Ethiopian state faces even greater problems. Armed insurgencies continue in Amhara and Oromia, the country’s two most populous regions. Federal forces have failed to suppress either movement and have lost control over extensive territory. Across the country, support for the government has collapsed. A nationwide strike by healthcare workers—triggered by surging inflation—signals broader unrest). Legitimacy has eroded; institutions have decayed; crises have multiplied. The military—commanded by officers appointed for ethnic loyalty rather than professional competence, crippled by systemic corruption, and plagued by operational incapacity—is unfit for war. These deficiencies became evident when the army suffered a series of humiliating defeats in the last war against the TPLF. External actors can influence both the likelihood and the outcome of a renewed conflict. In the previous war, the United States played a moderating role, driven by its own strategic interests in Ethiopia, the Horn, and the Red Sea. The Biden administration helped contain escalation by the Ethiopian government and dissuaded the TPLF from pursuing independence. It appointed Special Envoy Mike Hammer, whose diplomacy helped secure the Pretoria Agreement). Under President Trump, U.S. policy shifted toward disengagement. That shift may have persuaded the Ethiopian government that war carries no consequences and emboldened the TPLF to pursue secession. Regional powers also have the capacity to influence whether the war erupts and how it unfolds. Egypt, a traditional adversary of Ethiopia and locked in dispute over the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam, has aligned with Eritrea and had supported the TPLF in the past. Saudi Arabia continues to back the Eritrean regime). The United Arab Emirates has supplied Ethiopia with drones and weapons). Turkey has armed Ethiopia with drones as well, but backs Somalia over Abiy’s memorandum of understanding with Somaliland, the breakaway state of Somalia, later cancelled ). Whether another war erupts will depend in part on how these regional powers calculate their interests and the extent to which they are willing to intervene to secure them. Under present conditions, neither side appears capable of waging war. The TPLF—isolated abroad, fractured within, stripped of territory, crippled by corruption, and bereft of popular support—lacks the means to mount a new campaign. The federal government, weakened by internal fragmentation, collapsing legitimacy, and mounting public dissent, cannot sustain another conflict. Rhetoric has escalated, but capacity has not. The Eritrean government commands a well-trained army but lacks the diplomatic support, economic strength, and military capacity to fight a stronger adversary. Its international isolation, small population, and limited resources leave it vulnerable. Eritreans may defend sovereignty but show little enthusiasm for another costly war. Eritrea’s shifting loyalties, Abiy Ahmed’s expansionist ambitions, the Tigrayan elite’s secessionist agenda, the TPLF’s record of miscalculation, and foreign interference have created a volatile situation. Any of these variables could reignite the conflict, dismantle either state, and destabilize the entire region. Even in the absence of strategic advantage, wars can erupt because of misjudgments, personal ambition, or elite rivalries. Peace in the Horn is no local concern; it is a global imperative essential to regional order, international security, and the prevention of another humanitarian catastrophe.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Is the nascent consensus on state police in Nigeria a political ruse or a giant step towards true federalism in the country? No matter what happens next, last week’s statement by the Northern States Governors’ Forum expressing “support for the creation of State Police” and calling on “the National Assembly to expedite action on the enactment of the legal framework for its takeoff” will go down as a pivotal moment in the often-contentious debate over genuine federalism and political decentralization in Nigeria. Although it is not the first time that the Forum, the umbrella body of the chief executives of the nineteen northern states, will be expressing unanimous support for the idea (they also did back in September 2022 as the region buckled under the weight of relentless attacks by Boko Haram terrorists), the demand for expeditious action by a group of actors long seen as the epitome of northern resistance to the idea of state police is nothing short of remarkable. While it lasted, that opposition, or, to put it positively, an insistence on keeping policing on the Exclusive Legislative List per Section 214 (1) of the 1999 Nigerian Constitution, essentially preserving federal control over police affairs, was an article of faith among northern political actors, who, when they were not fearful about the potential for its abuse by individual state governors, worried that they may not have the resources to maintain it. In any event, they (i.e., the northern governors) were sure, as they insisted after reneging on an agreement reached at a meeting of the governors of the thirty-six states of the Nigerian federation in August 2012, that “the best way to ensure adequate security in all the states [was] for the federal government to allow commissioners of police to be controlled by the respective governors so that they can take orders from the state executives.” What explains the ostensible volte-face? One possible explanation is the worsening security situation in the northern region and the sense of desperation it has engendered among northern governors, traditional rulers, and other notables. Since the turn of the year, Boko Haram; Lakurawa, a jihadist group believed to be an affiliate of the Islamic State Sahel Province (ISSP); and lesser-known groups like Mahmuda, a Boko Haram splinter group, have embarked on a murderous spree in the northeastern, northwestern, and north-central parts of the country respectively, killing an untold number of people and laying waste to military bases, religious houses, and other public and private property. Since the outbreak of the Boko Haram insurgency in 2009, the group has been directly responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands and the displacement of millions. Given this situation, and considering the helplessness of the Nigerian armed forces, a certain desperation on the part of the governors may be understandable. Yet, it hardly explains how the idea of states administering and controlling their own police (a sound idea on its own merit) is suddenly embraced as the solution to a protracted insurgency that has so far defeated everything thrown at it. This puzzle has opened the door to a less charitable interpretation of the northern governors’ move, as follows: that far from being committed to state police as a matter of principle, the governors only see it as a way to kill two political birds with one stone—sign up for an idea which has become inexorable more or less, but at the same time use a newly-earned control over policing to tighten political control ahead of the next presidential election in March 2027, one that, at the moment (things could change very easily), is shaping up as a north-versus-south confrontation. In other words, assume control of police affairs as a way to defend “northern interest” when the push of electoral politics comes to shove. Whether or not the northern governors indeed have this shared understanding, the hypothesis—for it is nothing more than that at this point—is a reminder of the many reasons why the idea of state police in Nigeria has always been politically charged, and why a consensus on something as apparently straightforward as having individual state governments fund and maintain their own police—the very epitome of federalism, as its advocates see it—has been elusive. The anxiety of opponents of the state police as to its likely abuse, including mobilization against political opponents, is not unfounded. Nor will anyone who has listened to a former state governor proudly recount how he used his commissioner of police to manipulate elections and subvert the democratic process (unwittingly validating another former governor’s point [PDF] about the Nigeria Police Force being one of the five “mini-gods” that anyone trying to understand “the nature of electoral politics in Nigeria…must pay significant attention to”) dispute the contention of critics that the system is “not mature enough.” Mature or not, there is no doubting that the country, and President Tinubu in particular, is at a critical juncture. For a country wracked by violence of various stripes, and one where vigilante groups of various degrees of legality have continued to mushroom, it would seem irresponsible not to seize an opportunity that, on the whole, should increase security while strengthening local accountability. President Tinubu, too, has a decision to make. For a man who fancies himself a federalist and raised on a diet of Awolowo-Yoruba progressivism, he would be hard pressed to explain to himself, never mind his allies in the Yoruba political heartland, how he failed to capitalize on a political moment arguably unprecedented in the country’s checkered history. From this perspective, he has no choice but to sign the “Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (Alteration) Bill, 2023 (Establishment of State Police)" [PDF] as soon as it lands on his desk. Were he, contrariwise, to stall, it would be an indication that he perceives the northern governors’ sudden about face as the first move in a political plot calculated to upstage him as president come 2027.  Should that happen, and should the idea of state police continue to languish in legislative limbo, it would not be the first time in Nigeria that politics has waylaid history. Or is it the other way around?

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Sudan’s war, now entering its third year, has taken another unexpected turn. In March 2025, the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), also known as the Janjaweed, withdrew from Khartoum, abandoning the presidential palace and airport. This retreat marks a significant contrast to the paramilitary group’s earlier victory when troops stormed the capital in April 2023. The fall of Khartoum is a turning point. But, based on my research into Sudan’s political turmoil over the past three decades, I don’t believe recent developments mark the war’s final chapter. What began as a power struggle between two military factions is now transforming into a much wider conflict, marked by deepening fragmentation and the rise of armed civilian groups. Across the country, new militias are emerging, many formed by civilians who once had no part in the war. The army encouraged civilians to fight, but now it faces a growing number of independent armed groups. In cities and rural areas alike, civilians have taken up arms. Some are fighting alongside the army, answering calls from the military leadership, including army chief Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, to defend their neighbourhoods and families. Others have formed self-defence units to protect against looting and violence. Some have joined breakaway militias that have their own agendas. These groups don’t share a single goal. Some fight for self-defence, others for political power. Some for revenue and wealth. Others are seeking ethnic control – Sudan’s population has 56 ethnic groups and 595 sub-ethnic groups. This is what makes Sudan’s war even more dangerous: fragmentation is creating multiple mini-wars within the larger conflict. How the Rapid Support Forces lost Khartoum Several key factors forced the RSF to retreat from Khartoum after it claimed control of the Sudanese capital city two years earlier. • Internal fractures: The RSF, built on tribal loyalty, struggled to hold together as the war dragged on. Many factions felt sidelined by its leader, Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti. • Civilian resistance: The RSF’s reliance on brutality backfired, alienating even those who might have supported them. Instead of consolidating control, they turned civilians into enemies. The RSF relied on terror – looting, mass killings and sexual violence. Instead of gaining control, they provoked fierce resistance. Armed civilians, originally taking up arms in self-defence, have become an informal militia network working against the RSF. • Foreign intervention: Reports suggest Egyptian airstrikes and tactical support helped the army take Khartoum. Additionally, Turkish-made Bayraktar drones weakened RSF positions. With supply lines cut, the RSF had no choice but to retreat. Khartoum was not just a battlefield defeat for the RSF. It was a turning point in how the war is fought – it’s no longer a military struggle but a battle involving armed civilians across Sudan. Based on reports from humanitarian organisations, conflict monitors and local testimonies, a clearer picture has emerged of a growing number of armed groups operating across Sudan. These groups have formed in response to the escalating conflict. Recent analyses highlight that arms trafficking and intensified community mobilisation have accelerated within the past two years. Neighbourhood defence units have emerged in urban areas like El-Gezira in central Sudan, El-Fasher in North Darfur, Al-Dalang in South Kordofan, El-Obeid in North Kordofan, Babanusa in West Kordofan and Khartoum. They were initially formed to protect residential zones from the RSF but have since expanded their roles and increasingly operate outside the oversight of the army. Tribal and regional militias have also become more prominent, particularly in Darfur and Kordofan. In these regions, entrenched ethnic and political rivalries have intertwined with the current war. Some of these militia groups have aligned with the army. Others remain independent, pursuing their own agendas, which include securing territory. In Darfur, growing anger at Hemedti’s favouritism towards his own tribe (Rizeigat) led to defections. Internal divisions within the RSF have played a major role in its recent losses. Some former RSF fighters have formed their own militias. The RSF was never a unified force, but a tribal alliance dominated by the Dagalo family and Rizeigat elites. Initially, gold revenues secured loyalty, but as the war has dragged on, internal fractures have deepened. Another ethnic-linked group is the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-North. It has expanded its control in Kordofan and Blue Nile, two resource-rich regions in southern Sudan. The group allied with the RSF to push its own agenda, which includes securing greater autonomy for these regions and promoting a secular political framework that challenges Khartoum’s Islamist-leaning governance. Other ethnic militias also operate in eastern Sudan, supported by neighbouring countries such as Eritrea, further escalating the situation. Islamist-linked militias are also on the rise. The main example of these groups is El Baraa Ibn Malik Brigade, which emerged as a key player supporting the army against the RSF. Reports link the group to remnants of the Omar al-Bashir regime (1993-2019) – the dissolved Popular Defence Forces. This was a paramilitary group established in the mid-1980s to defend Arab tribes and support the military. It flourished under the al-Bashir regime. What next? While the RSF’s retreat from Khartoum is a major victory for the Sudanese army, it doesn’t mean stability is returning. Instead, Sudan is now facing a dangerous new reality: the rise of civilian militarisation. If not reined in, these groups could evolve and establish de facto warlord-run territories where local commanders wield unchecked power. This would undermine any prospects for centralised governance in Sudan. With militias multiplying and no clear political solution, Sudan risks becoming a battlefield of warring factions. Meanwhile, international mediators are struggling to find a solution while foreign interference continues. The United Arab Emirates, a major RSF backer, still supports Hemedti financially, ensuring he remains active in Sudan’s gold trade.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Signed in 2024, the Ethiopia-Somaliland Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) has reshaped regional dynamics, potentially granting Ethiopia sea access via Berbera in exchange for Somaliland’s recognition. This move challenged Somalia’s territorial integrity and prompted Mogadishu to align itself with Egypt, Eritrea, and Djibouti against Ethiopia. While the crisis reflects Ethiopia’s strategic push for a maritime presence, it also captures Somaliland’s long-standing quest for independence. In the wider Red Sea region, regional tensions are exacerbated by extra-regional actors which include the UAE, Turkey, France, and Saudi Arabia, all of which have their own interests therein. Although, external actors do not directly cause conflict, their involvement emboldens local actors and escalates rivalries. Hence, the Red Sea region has a growing importance in contemporary global geopolitics. Ethiopia-Somaliland MoU: Geopolitical Ambitions and the Quest for Recognition The year 2024 began with the signing of a Memorandum of Understanding between Ethiopia and Somaliland. The latter, formerly British Somaliland, was part of Somalia, from which it unilaterally seceded after Siad Barre’s regime collapsed in 1991. Since then, Somaliland has been self-ruled and is considered a de facto state. However, the Hargheisa authority does not enjoy any international legal recognition. If implemented, the agreement with Addis Ababa would give Somaliland its first significant de jure recognition. In return, the Hargheisa authorities would grant Ethiopia access to the sea through the port of Berbera and the concession of a coastal area for military use. The situation revolves around three key regional players: Ethiopia, Somalia, and Somaliland. Each of these actors has engaged in activities driven by its own objectives and strategic priorities. Ethiopia’s decision is influenced by several practical economic and strategic factors. Following the Eritrean War in the early 1990s, Ethiopia lost its Red Sea ports and became the world’s most populous landlocked country. Since 1998, Djibouti’s ports have handled 95 per cent of trade to and from Addis Ababa. Sea access through Djibouti costs Ethiopia between $1.5 and $2 billion annually which Ethiopia’s rulers, since 2019, begun to express more strongly that they consider this spending excessive and unsustainable in the medium to long term. To reduce Addis Ababa’s dependence on Djiboutian ports, the government of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed believes it is necessary to find a viable alternative. Before the MoU, Ethiopia had considered several alternatives to Djibouti, including Eritrea, Somalia, and Kenya. The idea of developing an economic and trade corridor between Addis Ababa and the port of Berbera on the Gulf of Aden began to take shape in the final months of 2023. Somaliland’s main port has been operated by the Emirati company – DP World since 2015, which has developed its infrastructure and increased its cargo transit capacity. Ethiopia estimates that it can divert between 12 and 15 per cent of the total volume passing through Djibouti’s ports to Berbera and, in the long term, connect its industrial zones to several trade corridors. From a strategic point of view, Ethiopian assessments are influenced by Addis Ababa’s national role conception. Ethiopia sees itself as the leading regional power because of its history and traditional economic and political weight in the region. Consequently, Ethiopian elites perceive the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden as their natural strategic spheres. For this reason, the Ethiopian Institute of Foreign Affairs recently announced the ‘Grand Strategy of the Two Waters.’ The new agenda aims to expand the sphere of national interest and action eastwards towards the sea, unlike in the past when the focus of Ethiopia’s strategic projection was mainly on the Nile Basin. Indeed, Ethiopia’s ambitions as a regional power are challenged by its lack of a maritime gateway. For Addis Ababa, having a presence in the Red Sea would provide two strategic benefits: first, it would strengthen its standing in the region; second, it would bolster Ethiopia’s international role by enhancing cooperation in multilateral anti-piracy efforts. In short, the Ethiopian government sees maritime projection as a strategic resource and a gateway to the geopolitics of the coming decades, which will focus on Asia and the Indo-Pacific in particular. Therefore, one of the key clauses of the MoU allows Ethiopia to establish a military outpost in Lughaya, a town overlooking the Gulf of Aden, for at least fifty years. According to Ethiopian plans, the naval base will become the headquarters of the nascent Ethiopian navy. For Somaliland, the MoU represents a further step on the difficult path to independence. In the past year, the issue of Somaliland’s independence has gained renewed attention and relevance. This pursuit of self-determination is deeply rooted in a historical context that stretches back to the 19th century, predating the regime of Siad Barre. The Somalilanders’ path began during a pivotal time when the British Empire established agreements with various Somali clans, particularly the Gadabuursi, Issa, and Habr Awal. In 1884, the region was officially designated as British Somaliland, a protectorate that enjoyed a measure of autonomy and governance, distinguishing it from the colonial dominance exerted by Italian authorities in southern Somalia. Following the unification of Somaliland with the Trust Territory of Somalia in 1960, the social, economic, and political conditions of the people of Somaliland began to deteriorate, leading to widespread discontent and a strong desire for independence. Over time, the Siad Barre regime cast a long shadow over Somaliland, leading to widespread discrimination and marginalisation. The political and economic machinations of the central government often neglected the aspirations of the Somaliland people, fuelling a growing sense of injustice. In this context, collective memory became a powerful cornerstone of identity, highlighting the stark contrasts between Somaliland’s struggles and Somalia’s divergent trajectories in the turbulent post-Siad Barre era. Hargheisa’s quest for independence is rooted in historical grievances and reflects the unique identities and trajectories of its people. The Somaliland narrative often draws comparisons with the current situation in the rest of Somalia. Over the past three decades, this de facto state has made significant progress towards sustainable institutional and administrative development albeit on a very limited budget. The democratisation process is also crucial to further the development of Somaliland’s independence. The recent national elections held last November demonstrated the political maturity of all parties involved. The peaceful transfer of power from the defeated government to the electoral process is a remarkable event in the region and stands out as one of the few such instances in the continent. The achievements of the institution-building process in Somaliland are even more striking when compared to the path taken by Somalia. Somalia’s Diplomatic Counterbalance and the Emergence of an Anti-Ethiopian Block  The signing of the MoU by Ethiopia and Somaliland raised concerns among regional actors, particularly Somalia. As Somaliland is formally and legally recognised as an integral part of Somalia, there were fears that Hargeisa’s claims to independence were gaining momentum. Mogadishu was particularly concerned that Ethiopia’s official recognition of Somaliland’s claims could trigger a domino effect, leading other regional and extra-regional actors to follow suit. Therefore, Somalia saw Ethiopia’s actions as a deliberate act of intimidation that threatened its territorial integrity at a sensitive time for its political future. Somalia faces several challenges, including the struggle to establish an effective institutional framework, particularly with regard to the relationship between the central government and the federal states, and also the fight against the terrorist group – al-Shabaab. In response to the MoU, the Somali executive, led by President Hassan Sheikh Mahmoud, launched an intense diplomatic campaign to prevent its implementation and recognition by the international community. Somalia has sought support from regional organisations such as the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), the East African Community (EAC), and the African Union (AU). In doing so, Somalia has consolidated alliances with both regional and extra-regional actors. As a result, the dynamics between these three actors – Somalia, Ethiopia, and Somaliland have become increasingly intertwined. Mogadishu’s natural anti-Ethiopian partners are two of Addis Ababa’s historical rivals: Eritrea and Egypt. Compared to 2018, the year of normalisation between Ethiopia and Eritrea, the situation today is very different. The positions of Eritrean President Isaias Afwerki and Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed quickly diverged following the signing of the Pretoria Agreement (2022), which ended the two-year conflict in Tigray. Eritrea, which had supported the Ethiopian military campaign, refused to negotiate with the Tigrayan authorities, represented by the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). The distance between the two leaders has widened as Ethiopia’s claims to the sea have grown. Indeed, Asmara fears that Ethiopia is eyeing its ports, a fear fuelled by the rhetoric of Abiy and other Ethiopian leaders. Conversely, Isaias has used his leadership and many regional relationships to foster a kind of ‘anti-Ethiopian coalition’. One significant change has been Egypt’s increasing involvement in the region. Mogadishu’s rapprochement with Cairo was formalised in August 2024 with the signing of a defence agreement. This agreement centres on Egypt’s intention to support Somalia’s request for the withdrawal of all Ethiopian troops currently stationed in Somalia as part of the African Union peacekeeping mission (formerly known as Atmis, replaced by the Aussom mission on 1 January 2025). The strengthening of Somali-Egyptian relations, supported by Asmara and involving Djibouti through a security cooperation agreement, has consolidated an anti-Ethiopian bloc. This alignment represents a significant shift in the regional balance and illustrates Egypt’s changing Africa policy. Since 2020, Egypt has reaffirmed the importance of its southern relations. President Abdel Fattah al-Sisi has gradually reassessed Egypt’s African relations and promoted a geopolitical strategy that emphasises a north-south axis, rather than the east-west axis that dominated in previous decades. The Red Sea region, including the Nile Basin, is now a key part of this new strategic framework, which is shaped by Egypt’s historical rivalry with Ethiopia. Between the two states, the balance on the Nile has changed. The construction of the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD) has given Ethiopia a strategic advantage over Egypt. Egypt therefore had to adapt its approach to the ongoing dynamics by deciding to expand the areas of contention toward the sea. Tensions between Ethiopia and Somalia therefore provided an opportunity to increase Egypt’s footprint in the region. Regional Tensions and Extra-regional Actors in the Red Sea The MoU signed by Ethiopia and Somaliland has opened a new phase in tensions. The focus of regional tensions is shifting to the coastal areas, particularly the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden, which are marked by a number of security and defence agreements. Common strategic interests underpin the alignment of the anti-Ethiopian bloc, which includes Somalia, Djibouti, Eritrea, and Egypt. Somalia views any legal recognition of Somaliland’s independence as an existential threat. For Djibouti, the economic damage from increased trade through Berbera is marginal but potentially devastating to its fragile internal balance of power. Eritrea perceives Ethiopia as an ongoing threat, and the current Ethiopian government is seen by Asmara as highly unreliable, raising concerns about a potential escalation of violence along their shared borders. Finally, for Egypt, the assessment of its regional position is of particular importance. Traditionally, Cairo has regarded the waters between Suez and Aden as its ‘lake’. As a result, like Addis Ababa, it regards the entire region as part of its sphere of influence. The United Arab Emirates (UAE) and Turkey are among the most active players in the region. The UAE has supported the MoU to capitalise on investments in Berbera and Addis Ababa. Turkey, on the other hand, has taken a more balanced approach, thanks to its strong political and commercial ties with Ethiopia and Somalia. For Ankara, however, Somalia’s integrity must not be questioned. Following their rapprochement in 2021, the UAE and Turkey have maintained good relations. Despite their different strategies and some disagreements, both nations share a common interest in maintaining a central role in regional affairs. Other extra-regional players, such as France and Saudi Arabia, are also active in the background. France supports the MoU as part of its ongoing efforts to increase its presence in East Africa, which began at the same time as its withdrawal from the Sahel region. Its base in Djibouti is destined to become more central to French policy as French military presence in West Africa is being reduced. French officials see this increased influence in regional affairs as essential to France’s future interests in the Indo-Pacific region. Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia, whose geopolitical focus is shifting from the Gulf to the Red Sea, opposes the implementation of the agreement between Ethiopia and Somaliland. It seeks to counter regional projects promoted by the UAE. This might be as a result of the long-standing political rift between the two Gulf monarchies. Extra-regional actors do not directly cause an increase in regional conflicts. Rather, it is local actors who, feeling empowered by their connections with these extra-regional partners, perceive their environment as more permissive and gain the confidence to take assertive actions that they may not have considered before. Understanding these dynamics sheds light on why Ethiopia and Somaliland decided to sign the MoU at this historic moment. This perspective also helps to explain other regional crises, such as the civil war in Sudan and the conflict in Tigray. The different transformations in the international system have created a context in which local actors can seek multiple forms of external support. Increased alignment and overlap between local and regional rivalries has increased the willingness of actors to take assertive action, leading to a general increase in inter- and intra-state tensions. However, the flexible nature of alliances can also mitigate the risk of the trickle-down effect that often accompanies such alliances. This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial 4.0 International License (CC BY-NC 4.0): https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском The first half of the 2020s dramatically changed the situation in Sahel. Military coups in Mali (2021), Burkina Faso (2022), and Niger (2023) brought the military to power. In Niger, the military junta that came to power, the National Council for the Protection of the Homeland led by Abdurahmane Tchiani, faced fierce criticism, sanctions, and a de facto economic blockade of the country by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). In addition, ECOWAS has threatened military intervention, with the stated aim of restoring deposed President Mohamed Bazoum. In many ways, the risk of more military coups in countries in the region drove the organization, causing particular concern for Nigeria, its chairman at the time. Abuja positioned itself as a leader in the region, particularly in ECOWAS, so it was important for it to preserve the integrity of the organization and the status quo in neighboring countries. Pressure from France, in turn, also had a corresponding effect. Paris has significant economic interests in Niger due to the country's large uranium reserves to support French nuclear power plants. As a result, Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger began a process to create a military alliance aimed at the common defense of the three countries, including the fight against terrorism and separatism. As a result, the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) was created on September 16, 2023, and transformed into a confederation on July 6, 2024. Thus, the range of cooperation between the three countries was broadened: now it covers not only military-political but also socio-economic spheres. Already on January 28, 2024, the AES countries announced their intention to leave ECOWAS, but since immediate withdrawal from the organization was not possible, they formally remained in the organization for another year, during which time the ECOWAS member states tried to find a compromise with the AES. On January 28, 2025, Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger formally announced their withdrawal from ECOWAS. This political process in the Sahel significantly changes the balance of power in the region. Why did the AES countries witdraw from ECOWAS? The reasons for the withdrawal of states from the organization are related to the problems of separatism and terrorism in the region. In early 2012, at the height of the civil war in Libya, Libyan Tuaregs formed the “National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad” (MNLA) and moved to Mali to rebel against the government in order to create an independent Tuareg state. After the military coup in Mali in March 2012, the rebels took advantage of the situation and proclaimed the “Independent State of Azawad” in the north of the country. They were supported in this by fighters from the Ansar al-Din Front, who were in contact with Al-Qaeda. However, after the declaration of independence of Azawad, the Islamists did not accept the secular status of this unrecognized state, which led to contradictions with the MNLA. As a result of fighting between the Islamists and secular rebels, the latter were defeated and went underground. The entire territory of Azawad came under the control of radical Islamists. The Islamization of the movement, as well as Islamist attacks on southern Mali, forced France to intervene, as it could destabilize the situation in the region. Operation Serval was announced. ECOWAS, under Article 3 of the Protocol on Mutual Assistance Defense, signed in Freetown on May 3, 1981, was obliged to provide assistance to Mali for anti-terrorist operations Accordingly, and also referring to UNSC Resolution №2085, ECOWAS launched the African-led International Support Mission in Mali (AFISMA). As a result, France and ECOWAS managed to liberate all the towns captured by the militants by February 2013, after which the ECOWAS mission was placed under the auspices of the UN. The UN operation was called the UN Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA) and was peacekeeping in nature. But these efforts were not enough to destroy extremist groups in Mali. Militants began to use guerrilla warfare methods, and a wave of terror began in the country's cities. Neither the UN mission nor the new French Operation Barkhan (2014–2021) were able to stop terror in the country. The situation worsened after a new radical Islamist group, Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal Muslimeen (JNIM), a regional branch of al-Qaeda, appeared on the scene in 2017. It has operated not only in Mali, but also in Burkina Faso and Niger. Over the past few years, separatists of the Azawad Liberation Front have been in contact with JNIM, which could lead to the consolidation of anti-government forces and, as a result, further strengthen the terrorists' position in the country. According to the Global Terrorism Index 2025, while the number of conflict-related deaths in the Sahel per year in 2017 was about 5,400, it will be 25,000 in 2024. Both ECOWAS and France were powerless against this threat. The fight against guerrilla insurgents required special tactics and a great deal of manpower, but neither France nor ECOWAS had these tools. Although ECOWAS had repeatedly deployed troops to war-torn countries (e.g. Liberia, Sierra Leone, etc.), it had no experience in fighting terrorism. In the Sahel, ECOWAS forces faced Islamists using sabotage and terrorism. In addition, ECOWAS is primarily an organization aimed at solving economic problems, so the vast majority of its resources are deployed in solving economic problems rather than military ones. However, for Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger, the first priority is to eliminate separatist and terrorist groups, hence these countries give priority to security cooperation within the organization. Since ECOWAS did not provide sufficient assistance due to its inability to carry out the combat mission (in Burkina Faso and Niger ECOWAS did not conduct any anti-terrorist operations at all), the three countries preferred to create their own military alliance, which is focused on the fight against separatism and terrorism, takes into account all the peculiarities of the fight against guerrillas and corresponds to the common interests of the three countries. This is the reason for the withdrawal of the AES countries from the Economic Community. Apollinaire Joachim Kyélem de Tambèla, Prime Minister of Burkina Faso, in his statement of 30 January 2024, noted that for almost a decade, the three countries have been confronted by criminal groups supported, financed and equipped by their partners, with the indifference of some neighbouring countries and subregional organizations, including ECOWAS. It can be concluded that the Sahel countries are disillusioned with the ECOWAS policy on security issues in the region. What does the future hold for the "Sahel trio"? At the end of January 2025, the AES countries announced the creation of a 5,000-strong joint force contingent to fight terrorism, thus fulfilling the military alliance's primary objective of coordinated counterterrorism organization in the region. This has raised the profile of the military in power in the three countries. The course taken by the governments of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger resonated with the public. On January 29, 2025, following the official announcement by the President of the ECOWAS Commission of the withdrawal of the AES countries, the people of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger took to the streets to celebrate. In the event of successful counter-terrorism operations in the region, popular support will increase, which will help to consolidate the power of the military and, as a result, stabilize the political situation in these countries at least in the medium term. However, for the final stabilization of the situation in the region, it is necessary to eliminate the terrorist threat, as well as to create strong and combat-ready armed forces. Not only the stabilization of the political but also the socio-economic situation in the Sahel countries depends on this. In contrast to the politico-military sphere, socio-economic ties with ECOWAS remain. Although the AES countries have also left ECOWAS, some key provisions of the organization remain in force. For instance, according to the official ECOWAS statement on the withdrawal of the AES countries dated January 29, 2025, passports and identity cards with the ECOWAS emblem remain in place, goods and services from the AES countries have access to the ECOWAS market under the same conditions, visa-free travel is maintained, and civil servants from the AES working in ECOWAS institutions are supported and retained in their positions. However, the same document notes that these conditions are temporary. Permanent terms of cooperation with the three countries will be adopted at a future Summits of Heads of State. The socio-economic situation in the Sahel countries is very difficult. According to the World Population Review, the percentage of the population below the poverty line is 45.5% in Niger, 44.6% in Mali and 43.2% in Burkina Faso. Although the states are rich in natural resources, they are unable to realize their full potential due to poor infrastructure. Continued investment in the economies of the three countries is needed, but the investment climate is deteriorating due to the terrorist threat. Economic difficulties can be overcome by joint efforts. The confederative beginnings of the AES provide an opportunity to begin the process of economic integration. The Sahel countries are seeking to establish an economic and monetary union, which will lead to a new currency called the Sahel. The logical continuation of these actions could be the exit from the franc zone. Thus, the withdrawal of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger from ECOWAS could stabilize the political situation in the Sahel countries due to massive support for the AES exchange rate, while plans to create a single currency and leave the franc zone could strengthen the economic independence of the three countries. The Changing Regional Order in West Africa  For almost a century and a half, West Africa has been part of the French zone of influence. Ever since French troops established their control over these lands, all political and socio-economic processes in the region have taken place with direct French participation. However, over the past few years, France has significantly lost its influence in West Africa. The turning point in this was the failure of the anti-terrorist operation “Barkhan” in Mali, as a result of which France had to withdraw its troops from the country. After a series of military coups in the Sahel, which were largely anti-French in nature, Paris' position weakened further. French troops left Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger, Chad, and Senegal. The final blow was the withdrawal of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger from ECOWAS and the creation of the Confederation of Sahel States. This was particularly dangerous for France because the AES showed an alternative development alternative to West African countries. Now it is not only the pro-French ECOWAS that is acting as an integrationist grouping in West Africa, but also the AES. Already Chad is attempting rapprochement with the AES countries. On February 21–22, 2025, Chadian President Mahamat Déby attended The Panafrican Film and Television Festival of Ouagadougou. In addition, the Central African head of state met with his Burkina Faso counterpart, Captain Ibrahim Traoré. During the dialog, the two sides discussed the fight against neo-colonialism and security challenges in the region. The French newspaper Le Monde regarded this as a possible rapprochement between Chad and the AES. Although Ghana acts more as an intermediary in the negotiations between the AES and ECOWAS, it has also made attempts to move closer to the AES countries. Thus, President John Dramani Mahama visited the AES countries from March 8–10, 2025. During his visit, he discussed with the Heads of State the strengthening of bilateral cooperation and security issues in the Sahel. The authority of the AES in Africa is gradually growing, which may encourage some countries in the region to move closer to the Confederation. On January 29, 2025, new AES passports were introduced and the flag of the Confederation of Sahel States was approved on February 22. All these measures should help strengthen the organization's position in the region.  Not only France, but also the United States is losing its former regional positions. In 2012, American troops were sent to Niger to fight terrorism, but after the coup in Niger in 2023, the military that came to power demanded that Washington withdraw its military contingent from the country. The United States had to make concessions. By early August 2024, all U.S. military personnel had been withdrawn from Niger, and military bases were placed under the control of local militaries. Russia is one of the actors whose regional positions are being strengthened. Moscow has been particularly active in cooperating with Mali. Since gaining independence in 1960, the Republic has signed a number of important economic agreements with the USSR and, after its collapse in 1991, with Russia. At the current stage of Russian-Mali relations, the range of cooperation has been significantly expanded: it also covers the military and political sphere. Thus, an agreement on military-technical cooperation was signed in 2003, in 2009 - Memorandum on cooperation in the field of combating terrorism and transnational organized crime, and in 2019 an Intergovernmental Agreement on Military Cooperation. Russia can be characterized as the main partner of the Sahel trio. Thus, it supported the initiative to create a Confederation of Sahel States. At the end of December 2024, Russian Ambassador to Mali Igor Gromyko said that Russia confirms its intention to continue to provide the necessary support to the countries of the Alliance of Sahel States, including assistance in improving the combat effectiveness of the national armed forces, training of military and law enforcement personnel, as well as to develop mutually beneficial trade and economic cooperation with these states, and added that the establishment of the AES is an important step in the fight against terrorism in the region. It is for the implementation of these tasks that the African Corps under the Russian Ministry of Defense was established at the end of 2023 on the basis of the private military company Wagner, which aims to fight terrorism in the region. This is an important step toward consolidating Russia's position in West Africa. Russia is gradually pushing France out of the Sahel, and this is expressed not only in the military-political sphere, but also economically. The Russian Federation has signed a number of economic and trade agreements with the AES countries, which have seriously affected French companies and businesses in the Sahel. The most painful blow, perhaps, was the ban on uranium mining for the French company Orano in Niger, one of the largest uranium producers in the world. For France, uranium ore from Niger supplied a number of nuclear power plants. Since then, Russian companies have been invited to mine in Niger, including the French company Orano, one of the largest uranium producers in the world. For France, uranium ore from Niger supplied a number of nuclear power plants. Russian companies have since been invited to mine minerals in Niger, which include uranium. At the end of February 2025, the two countries signed a Memorandum of Understanding on Exploration and Mining, which provides for the development of bilateral cooperation to strengthen Niger's mineral exploration and mining potential. China is also increasing its influence in the region. According to the China Global Investment Tracker, Chinese direct investments in Mali amounted to $600 million in 2023–2024 and $700 million in Niger. They were mainly directed to the metallurgical and oil sectors, as well as nuclear power. Military cooperation occupies an important place in China's relations with the Sahel countries. Thus, in July 2023, it became known about the signing of a contract for the supply of Chinese arms to Niger in the amount of $4.2 million. Although it is mainly light weapons (rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, rocket systems, etc.), the fact that there is a defense agreement greatly enhances China's authority in the region. Another actor that has increased its influence in the Sahel is Turkey. Ankara emphasizes military cooperation with the AES countries. So, in 2022, the Malian Armed Forces received unmanned aerial vehicles Bayraktar TB2, which are to be used in the fight against terrorism in the region. The diplomatic forum held in Antalya from March 1–3, 2024, highlighted the problems of the Sahel region. The forum was attended by representatives of the AES countries who criticized ECOWAS. In particular, Mali's Foreign Minister Abdoulaye Diop said that ECOWAS was inadequately addressing regional problems and that it had not responded to crises in the region but opposed the new foreign policy of the Sahel countries. In addition, the Minister noted that the harsh sanctions imposed on the AES countries had no legal basis, while cooperation within the framework of the AES appeared to be a solution to regional problems. *** The withdrawal of the AES countries from ECOWAS led to a transformation of the regional order in West Africa: an alternative to ECOWAS emerged in the form of the Confederation of Sahel States. The AES is not as capable as ECOWAS, but it is growing rapidly. There are already countries showing interest in the AES. Plans for economic integration will only strengthen the position of the organization, which will lead to the AES competing with ECOWAS. It remains to be seen whether this competition will turn into a confrontation. Russia, in turn, by supporting the military that came to power as a result of coups, is gradually pushing France out of the region. This is a serious challenge for French foreign policy, which will be extremely difficult to overcome at least in the medium term. The political vacuum created by the withdrawal of France and the United States from the Sahel has been filled not only by Russia, but also by China and Turkey. These countries are increasingly consolidating their influence in the region and seeking access to resources. There have been regular Islamist and separatist attacks on the armed forces of the three countries. The threat from jihadist groups is increasing. In order to finally stabilize the established regional order, it is necessary to destroy terrorist and separatist cells that threaten the current regimes of the AES countries, which will determine political stabilization in the three countries and the development of socio-economic projects. The Sahel countries are likely to continue cooperative efforts to combat terrorism and expand defense cooperation with Russia, Turkey, and China.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Since independence on June 25, 1975, Frelimo has made Mozambique its private preserve for 50 years. After having been the only authorized party in the country (from 1975 until the introduction of a multi-party system in 1992), it then systematically defrauded all elections, with the partial exception of the very first ones organized by the UN in 1994. But after the last general elections in October 2024, the fraud provoked a real popular revolt. The authorities reacted by unleashing a ruthless crackdown on the protesters, which continues to this day, without any notable reaction from the international community. On October 9, 2024, Mozambique held its seventh general elections (provincial, legislative and presidential) since the introduction of a multi-party system in 1992. Official results gave a clear victory to Frelimo (Mozambique Liberation Front) candidates, including presidential candidate Daniel Chapo, elected with 70% of the vote (later reduced to 65%). According to international and independent national observers, these were the most fraudulent elections the country had ever seen. A large part of the population is convinced that, in reality, it was the opposition candidate Venâncio Mondlane, officially credited with 20% of the vote (then 24%), who won the election. Admittedly, this is not the first time that Frelimo, in power without interruption since 1975, has maintained itself through fraud and, beyond that, through the complete fusion of party and state, as in the days of the single party (1975-1992), through the systematic practice of authoritarian clientelism (people live much better with a Frelimo card than without it or with another party's card!) and, finally, through the assassination of opponents. This time, however, there was a genuine revolt, rather than resignation, against the lack of respect for the people's dignity shown by electoral fraud. Fifty years of authoritarian paternalism In 1975, Mozambique gained independence and the Frelimo, officially of “Marxist-Leninist” orientation, which drew its legitimacy from its struggle against Portuguese colonial rule, came to power. This was followed by a long civil war (1977-1992) between Frelimo and the Mozambique National Resistance (Renamo), which shaped the country's political life for a long time to come. Although the conflict had internal roots in the authoritarian, anti-peasant modernization policies of the government, the Renamo guerrilla movement was supported by the apartheid regime of neighboring South Africa. The violence was terrible, on both sides, but after the war, particularly in the cities (and especially in the South), even disgruntled people would never have voted for Renamo, seen in the hegemonic discourse as the party of “armed bandits”. However, particularly in the inner cities, the middle-class electorate began to vote for a third party, the Democratic Movement of Mozambique (MDM), which emerged from a split in Renamo and would very likely have won the 2013 municipal elections in the capital Maputo - were it not for a timely power cut when the ballots were being counted. The head of the list was Venâncio Mondlane, then a popular TV and radio commentator. In the 2014 legislative elections, against a backdrop of renewed internal warfare, Renamo doubled its number of votes (from 16 to 36.61%) and deputies (from 49 to 89 out of 250) compared to the 2009 ballot. But in 2018 (municipal elections) and 2019 (general elections, 21.48% of the vote and 60 deputies), this boom was shattered by the machinery of the state apparatus. The fraud took place well before the elections: the electoral census counted more voters than inhabitants in the pro-power Gaza province, but far fewer in some others. The systematic intimidation of voters (by collecting their voter card numbers) was highly effective. Non-Frelimo observers were rarely accredited, while Frelimo observers flocked to polling stations in their thousands, and so on. Even so, it was clear that this time Renamo had actually won the elections in Maputo and Matola, the other major southern city and historic Frelimo stronghold. But Renamo didn't really organize any protests, despite spontaneous youth marches, playing the legalism card and awaiting the results of its appeals to appeal institutions totally controlled by Frelimo. The Venâncio Mondlane phenomenon and the revolt of Mozambican society With the passing of the years and the passing of generations, we could see that, even in the cities of the South, disaffected voters no longer hesitated to vote for Renamo: memories of the civil war were no longer politically structuring. But Renamo was weakened by the death of its historic leader, Afonso Dhlakama, in 2018, and by the appointment as new president of a former guerrilla general, Ossufo Momade, who proved to lack initiative and leadership. Momade prevented Venâncio Mondlane from being Renamo's candidate in the presidential election of October 2024, but Mondlane ran as an independent, as a new type of candidate, a civilian, an educated man from the city, and also an evangelical (a religious current on the rise in the country). Massively, the Renamo and MDM electorates switched to this new candidate, all the more easily as their previous votes were not so much in favor of these two parties as, above all, against Frelimo. They changed tools. Venâncio Mondlane's campaign, though without a seasoned party to back him, was far better organized than Renamo's had been before. He set up a systematic parallel vote-counting system, with computer equipment, etc., in charge of collecting the thousands of minutes as soon as the counting was completed. This enabled him to claim that he had won the elections with 70% of the vote, whereas the official results gave him around 20%. What is certain is that the frauds were innumerable and that the popular conviction of a totally biased result was widespread. Venâncio Mondlane immediately called for “victory parades”, which were hardly tolerated by the authorities, who were claiming victory for their candidate, Daniel Chapo, an apparatchik who was virtually unknown before the election campaign.  The turning point came on October 19, 2024, when two leaders of Venâncio Mondlane's campaign, Elvino Dias and Paulo Guambe, were murdered in the street and in their car, most probably by members of the Special Operations Group of the Rapid Intervention Unit (UIR, militarized police), known locally as the “death squads”. This was a warning to Venâncio Mondlane, who had just called a general strike. From then on, the situation shifted from demonstrations against electoral fraud, such as often occur in various African countries, to a revolutionary process. The permanent mobilization of very poor people, young boys leading demonstrations, young girls organizing prayers in the streets, was observed all over the country, including the small bush towns, where they receive the news from time to time. The middle classes in the “cement districts” were not to be outdone: although they didn't take part in the demonstrations, they did “casserolades” (banging pots during protests) from their windows for hours on end. A very important feature was the complete absence of any ethnic dimension: of course, the civil war had never been inter-ethnic, but Frelimo tended to be the party of the south and the cities, and Renamo the party of the north and the bush. The fact that Venâncio Mondlane was from the South did not prevent demonstrations from taking place everywhere, including in the North, which had already been affected by jihadist guerrilla warfare. The authorities accused the demonstrators of looting stores, but the police were also seen looting... and real shots were fired multiple times. The official proclamation of the results and the announced failure of the last appeals, followed by the inauguration of the official president, Daniel Chapo, on January 15, 2025, did not weaken the mobilization. Venâncio Mondlane, who now considered himself to be the “people's president” and “elected president” rather than the “invested president”, began a tour of the country, gathering large crowds even in the regions most loyal to Frelimo. A new turning point in the revolutionary process began to emerge: people were no longer demonstrating against fraud, but rather against the high cost of living - Mondlane had issued a “decree” to lower the price of cement and other products, and people were mobilizing to enforce it. Communities revolted against the international companies that had set up in the country at the behest of the authorities, because compensation for lost land and homes, mentioned in “contracts” accepted under great pressure, was not respected; protests against the enormous pollution of the Moatize open-cast coal mines regained vigor; the destruction of sacred woods -cut down to avoid interfering with oil sands exploitation- was no longer forgiven. More or less, the entire Frelimo state was challenged, and the revolution underway went from being simply democratic to being social. And the price already paid is heavy: 353 proven deaths, including children or very young boys, or simple passers-by; no doubt at least 40 deaths among Venâncio Mondlane's local executives, like these two young men murdered in their car, at that time, outside any demonstration, in Massinga (Inhambane province), on the night of March 8, 2025, having fallen into an authentic ambush. Massinga had been a hotbed of opposition to the government in the south of the country for the previous few days. Thousands wounded (the number is put at 3,000, but this figure mainly concerns the wounded in the major cities), thousands arrested, many missing (including journalists)... Silence, we kill This revolutionary process took place without any involvement from the opposition parties, who agreed to send their elected deputies to sit in Parliament, while Mondlane called for a boycott. Another notable development was the remobilization of the Naparamas in the provinces of Nampula and Zambézia. The Naparamas are a historic phenomenon in Mozambique, magical peasant militias (vaccinated against bullets) armed with bows and arrows. At the end of the civil war, in exhausted societies, they acted mostly in favor of Frelimo against Renamo. But although they never completely disappeared, this time they have remobilized to serve the mobilized people, whom they seek to protect from the militarized police. Despite their “vaccinations”, they are harshly repressed by the heavily armed police. Faced with this outpouring, the authorities signed a reconciliation agreement with all the political currents... except Mondlane. On the very day the agreement was signed, March 5, 2025, a demonstration in Maputo attended by Mondlane was attacked with live ammunition by the UIR, killing four people and wounding others. At the same time, the official president has hardened his rhetoric. At his first public meeting after his investiture, in Pemba (north) on February 24, 2025, he proclaimed that “even if blood has to be shed to defend the homeland against demonstrations, we will shed blood. We will fight terrorism, fight the Naparamas and fight the demonstrations”, equating any form of challenge to power with jihadism, which has been rampant in the North since 2017. It's important to understand that, in the context of a state that has been totally fused with the party for fifty years, an authoritarian party ready to do anything to keep power, when a president publicly says “we will spill blood”, he then has no need to give the order to kill to the intermediate and local echelons of his forces of repression. They've heard the order. Power is ready for a bloodbath to defeat the social revolution in progress. Who will stop it? What is the international community saying, what are the foreign embassies in Maputo saying?

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском In January 2002, the city of Goma, located in the east of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, lay in ruins. The cause was not the Great African War,[1] which had been ravaging the country for several years. The war’s first rebellion had, in fact, started here in August 1998, when Banyamulenge-Tutsi fighters, led by a former ally of President Laurent-Désiré Kabila and backed by Rwanda (where Paul Kagame has ruled since the 1994 genocide), seized control of much of Congo’s resource-rich northeast. By early 2002, tensions were mounting between Rwanda and the Congolese Banyamulenge, while peace talks, facilitated by South Africa, were finally on the horizon. In January 2002, Goma—a city on Lake Kivu’s northern shore, at the foot of the Virunga Mountains—was still in rebel hands. But it also sat just 14 kilometers away from Nyiragongo, a volcano whose lava, low in silicates, moves fast—up to 100 km/h during an eruption. When Nyiragongo erupted, it took just hours for the lava to reach the city center, displacing over a million people and pushing the region toward yet another humanitarian disaster. The region teetered on the brink of it—yet again. Fast forward to January 2025, Goma once again made global headlines. This time, it was not because of a volcano, though the city’s situation did not look too different at first glance. On January 25–26, the M23 rebel group—born in 2012, partly from the remnants of the Congolese Rally for Democracy (RCD) that rebelled in 1998—launched a major offensive in North Kivu. Within days, they captured key locations in and around Goma, including Mount Goma, the airport and the TV station, though the city remained contested. The rebels also seized the nearby towns of Saké and Minova—both crucial for Goma’s supply lines—and started advancing into South Kivu, toward Bukavu, the provincial capital, and Nyabibwe, a key tin-mining site. Clashes led to a fire at Munzenze prison, allowing some 3,000 inmates to escape, adding to the chaos not only in the country’s northeast but also in the capital. On Tuesday, January 28, frustration over international inaction spilled onto the streets of Kinshasa, where mobs targeted embassies, including those of the U.S. and France. Any hope for de-escalation between the DRC and Rwanda now seems all but shattered: borders and embassies are shut, and most openly accuse Kigali of backing M23. Meanwhile, Rwanda remains under the firm grip of Paul Kagame, who was reelected in July 2024 for a fourth term with 99.15% of the vote—an election whose legitimacy, notably, did not raise many eyebrows in the West. Meanwhile, in Goma, early estimates suggest that one in five residents—out of a population of two million—has been forced to flee their homes, even before the conflict reached the current level of intensity. There is no electricity, and shortages of water, food and fuel are worsening, while UN humanitarian efforts appear to be scaling down rather than ramping up. Roots of the conflict The escalation in eastern DRC began long before alarming headlines started appearing in the media. But how far back do we go? Options are open and include: • 2022, when tensions steadily rose as M23 expanded its territorial control in eastern DRC;• 2021, when M23 resurfaced after its military defeat in 2013;• 2012, when M23 first emerged, reached its peak capturing Goma;• The Second Congo War (1998–2003), or even further back to the colonial era, when the ethnic dynamics that now fuel the conflict first took shape to complicate the current events. At this point, one might ask: who are the Banyamulenge and why are they closely linked to Rwanda? The answer lies in the history of the Lake Kivu region, home to multiple ethnic groups. Many of these groups can be classified under the broader linguistic umbrella of Kinyarwanda speakers—meaning they speak different variations of the same language and live not only in Kivu but also in Rwanda. Their core identity lies in ethnic categories such as Hutu, Tutsi or the lesser-known Twa. However, many other ethnic groups in eastern DRC do not see Kinyarwanda as autochthonous (indigenous), which fuels tensions and conflicts, both socially and politically. In response, Kinyarwanda-speaking communities have emphasized their Congolese, rather than Rwandan, identity by adopting local geographic names instead of ethnic labels. That is why we hear terms like Banyabwisha, Banyamasisi and Banyamulenge. Banyamulenge literally means “people from Mulenge,” a highland plateau in what is now South Kivu province. The issue of indigenous status is far from theoretical. On a practical level, perceptions of who is autochthonous and who is not dictate access to land, resources, and political rights and influence. And since power dynamics between ethnic groups in the region are constantly shifting—along with the broader political landscape in the country—so too are identity categories based on autochthony. For instance, the Hutu population in Goma often considers itself more “native” than the Tutsi. One reason for this is that Hutu and Tutsi were arriving in eastern DRC at different points in history: • The earliest waves of migration reached Kivu before the arrival of European colonizers (Germans and Belgians).• The second wave was engineered by colonial authorities, who sought loyal local administrators (such as the Banyamulenge) and a larger labor force for their plantation economy—since Kivu did not have enough workers.• Between 1959 and 1963, Rwanda was shaken by the “Wind of Destruction”—a revolution that overturned Belgian-backed Tutsi rule in Rwanda–Urundi and brought the Hutu to power in an independent republic. Thousands of Tutsis fled, settling in Kivu, where they became known as the “fifty-niners.”• Finally, after the 1994 Rwandan genocide, when Hutu extremists turned their weapons against the Tutsi, the “defeated” Hutu (Banyarwanda) fled to eastern Congo, adding yet another layer of instability to the region. Over time, Congolese authorities treated different “waves of migrants from Rwanda” differently, adjusting their policies to fit the political expediency. They repeatedly changed citizenship laws, granting or stripping Kinyarwanda speakers of political rights. For example, a new law established 1885 as the official “cut-off date” for autochthony, effectively denying voting rights to most of the Banyamulenge—a decision that was enforced during the 1982 and 1987 elections. Unsurprisingly, this political and social exclusion created (and continues to create) fertile ground for mobilization and conflict under various pretexts. In the 1990s, for instance, many Congolese Tutsi, whose ambiguous citizenship status left them disconnected from Congo, joined Paul Kagame’s Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), which took control of northern Rwanda and later ended the genocide by capturing Kigali. A few years later, the Banyamulenge threw their support behind Laurent-Désiré Kabila’s Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (AFDL), which helped Rwanda’s new government partially “resolve the issue” of Hutu refugees who had fled to Congo. After fleeing Rwanda in the aftermath of the genocide, many Hutu militants eventually rebranded themselves into the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR). The presence of both Hutu and Tutsi armed groups in eastern Congo effectively transplanted Rwanda’s ethnic conflict across the border. And both the Congolese and Rwandan governments found ways to manipulate this struggle to serve their own interests. This historical context is important to highlight the complex and often contradictory dynamics among the seemingly related ethnic groups living around Lake Kivu. The various ethnic communities in the area are fractured by competing interests, historical grievances and shifting alliances, with numerous armed factions operating on the ground. While Kinshasa and Kigali may view them as proxies, they fall short of full control over these groups, whose actions are often dictated by immediate gains and local rather than regional political interests. The Volcanic Republic On the other side of the border, in Rwanda, the notion of autochthony carries a different significance. Many Rwandans believe that a split of the Banyarwanda (“people from Rwanda” as opposed to Kinyarwanda, “people speaking Rwandese”) between two countries was a colonial construct, imposed by European powers, suggesting that borders in the region are quite artificial. A more extreme version of this narrative argues that Rwanda was historically much larger: “From a vast country that covered swathes of eastern Congo, southern Uganda and north-western Tanganyika, Rwanda became the tiny hill of Central Africa,” a perspective echoed by Rwanda’s formal President Pasteur Bizimungu in 1996. But this is more myth than reality as this claim oversimplifies history and ignores ethnic distinctions. More importantly, it fails to acknowledge that eastern Congo was never under a sustained Rwandan rule—neither before nor after colonization. Still, the idea of a “Greater Rwanda” breeds and fuels certain revanchist sentiments in some corners of Rwanda’s leadership. That is why many Congolese believe Rwanda is trying to carve out a “Volcanic Republic” (République des Volcans) in Kivu—a proxy state that would give it direct access to the region’s vast natural resources. Rebel leaders themselves reinforce these fears. For instance, Laurent Nkunda, leader of the National Congress for the Defense of the People (CNDP)—a faction that split from the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD) that rebelled in 1998 and maintains strong ties to Rwanda through Banyamulenge–Tutsi networks—argued: “If there had been no colonization, and thus the creation of totally new and artificial territorial entities in Africa, today’s Congo would never have existed for sure; but Bwisha would certainly be here as a transvolcanic province of ancient Rwanda.” Ultimately, this has for a long time contributed to both inter- and intra-ethnic tensions in the region, with shifting political, territorial or even personal allegiances of the groups. Who are the M23? To answer this question, we must once again trace the evolution of rebel groups in eastern DRC. During the First Congo War (1996–1997), Tutsi rebels, under the leadership of Laurent-Désiré Kabila[2] and with open support from Rwanda and Uganda, succeeded in toppling Mobutu Sese Seko, who had ruled since 1965 with support from the West. As the Cold War ended, Mobutu had outlived his usefulness by the 1990s, allowing Laurent-Désiré Kabila to take power. The problem was that many in Congo viewed Kabila as a Rwandan pawn. When he tried to shake off Kigali’s influence, the Second Congo War erupted (see above). Rwanda (and partly Uganda) responded by backing a new rebel group—the Rally for Congolese Democracy (RCD)—which included Tutsi fighters. But when the war stalled, in part due to SADC’s military intervention led by South Africa, the RCD splintered. Its most powerful faction—RCD-Goma—held onto North and South Kivu, although Rwanda’s military remained the true power behind the scenes. In 2002, the Sun City Accords allowed Joseph, Laurent-Désiré Kabila’s son, to stay in power while granting RCD-Goma and the Uganda-backed Movement for the Liberation of Congo (MLC), operating in northern Congo, formal status as legitimate political actors. As part of the deal, Rwandan and Ugandan troops withdrew from the DRC. By 2006, Joseph Kabila sought to consolidate his rule, but his 2007 election victory triggered clashes in Kinshasa with the MLC and a fresh Tutsi-led uprising in the east. This time, it was the Tutsi-dominated National Congress for the Defence of the People (CNDP), a faction that grew out of RCD-Goma. Neither Congolese troops nor UN peacekeepers could stop the CNDP’s advance. The rebels seized control of key mines and supply routes, though they ultimately failed to capture Goma—largely due to their lack of legitimacy and support locally. However, after a peace agreement reached between Kinshasa and the CNDP on March 23, 2009, the Congress formally transformed into a political party, while Joseph Kabila remained in power. In 2011, the CNDP suffered a crushing defeat in parliamentary elections, while Kabila retained the presidency, even as virtually all support for him in the east collapsed. Trying to preempt another rebellion, he decided to redeploy former CNDP fighters, who had by then been “integrated” into the Congolese army, away from the east. At the same time, he moved to arrest their leader, Bosco Ntaganda[3], who had been wanted by the International Criminal Court (ICC) since 2006. This strategy backfired, triggering a new rebellion and the birth of M23, named after the peace deal of 2009, which they claimed Kinshasa had violated. M23 started out small (around 300 fighters in April 2012) compared to its predecessor, the CNDP, it quickly followed in its footsteps and even captured Goma in November 2012. However, this was a step too far for the international community, which quickly mobilized efforts to crush M23 militarily. By 2013, the group had suffered an irreversible defeat—or so it seemed at the time. Paradoxically, however, it was not military pressure alone that led to M23’s downfall. After years of continuous conflict, the rebel leaders—who had transitioned from the RCD to the CNDP and then to M23—had lost much of their political credibility. While they claimed to defend the interests of Congolese Tutsis and protect them from the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR)—a Hutu militia hostile to Tutsis and Kigali—in reality, their real struggle was internal as they competed for power among themselves (M23 changed leadership just one month into the rebellion) and became ever more dependent on Rwanda’s direct military support, which further eroded their local legitimacy and claims to autochthony. Their rhetoric was highly populist, filled with calls for a nationwide revolution, but it failed to address the real concerns of Congolese Tutsis. Military control never translated into political support. By 2013, they were isolated and crushed. The remnants of M23 retreated over the border into Rwanda. With M23 collapsing, its factions splintered into local militias, losing any ideological pretence but continuing to operate along ethnic and materialist lines. The presence of a growing number of armed factions in eastern Congo as well as their constant fracturing is one of the reasons why the conflict has such a complex mosaic to it. Adding to the complexity are the Wazalendo (“patriots” in Swahili)—quasi-governmental militias, some of whom originated from the old Mai-Mai militias that once fought the CNDP. While they may oppose M23, they are far from a unified front. Instead, they operate independently, often pursuing economic interests not too dissimilar from those of M23 and expanding their political clout at the local level. Some of their leaders, too, have been hit with international sanctions. Rather than trying to rein the Wazalendo in, the government in Kinshasa has tolerated their presence, effectively militarizing governance in the country’s east—preferring to co-opt their influence rather than risk another line of conflict. When Goma fell in 2012, it forced the DRC government into something it is now desperate to avoid: direct negotiations with M23. The Kampala Dialogue dragged on for about a year, but it was hardly a real political process. By the time an agreement was reached—where M23 renounced rebellion and agreed to disarm, demobilize and reintegrate—the group had already been militarily defeated and was no longer a real negotiating force, nor was it a pollical actor. The retreat of M23’s remnants into Rwanda only reinforced Kinshasa’s stance: there was no point in talking to a fractured and disorganized rebel group with no clear political vision. If any real negotiations were needed, they had to be with Rwanda, not M23. The group’s main goal had always been controlling the resources and getting the rent—for its leaders, this was about profits, not politics. Even for ordinary M23 fighters, ideology often took a backseat to personal loyalty toward commanders they had known since the CNDP days or before. Volcanoes and minerals In May 2021, Nyiragongo erupted again. While this was just a coincidence, by November 2021, M23 had risen “from the ashes.” Crossing over from Rwanda, they returned to North Kivu, just as they had in 2012, and began their operations in Rutshuru—a town 30 kilometers from Rwanda, home to both Tutsis and Hutus (many of whom had settled there after the Rwandan genocide). Controlling Rutshuru is rather lucrative, as the region holds one of the world’s largest deposits of pyrochlore (a niobium oxide essential for electronics, aerospace, defense and other industries) as well as several gold mines. Without diving into the complex web of connections, it is worth noting that niobium/tantalum became Rwanda’s fifth-largest export in 2022—making it the ninth-largest exporter globally (accounting for 3.35% of global exports and surpassing the DRC’s less than 2%). Thanks to volcanic activity, the provinces on Lake Kivu are especially rich in highly sought-after minerals. North Kivu alone holds deposits of tantalum, cassiterite, cobalt, tungsten, gold, diamonds, tourmalines and pyrochlore. The problem, however, is that mining here is anything but transparent. Most extraction is artisanal, lacking proper environmental, safety or any oversight. The world’s growing demand for critical minerals is only making things worse in eastern DRC. The country relies on mining for 35–40% of its government revenue, and the mining sector is a key pillar of economic growth. However, agreements with Kinshasa do not always guarantee real access to resources. Even within a single province, competing power structures—provincial politicians, the Congolese military, local armed groups, and rebels proxy-linked to the neighbour country—can all contest control over mining sites. Rather than declining, illicit mineral exports—regardless of how they flow—have only increased in recent years, as global demand for these minerals surges and more competition kicks in. Eastern DRC has an estimated 2,500 mining sites—each one sustaining local armed groups and ensuring that the cycle of conflict remains unbroken. Since 2021, the EU and the U.S. have taken a much more proactive stance on critical minerals as new policies were introduced, partnerships with countries like the DRC and Rwanda have been strengthened, and steps have been taken to secure supply chains for critical raw materials while also developing a joint procurement platform. Around the same time, M23 made its comeback. While no direct causal link can be established, it can be suggested that close ties between the West and Rwanda have at the very least given Kigali the confidence to act without major international backlash. It is also probable that Rwanda indirectly controls eastern DRC’s resources through M23, since the group’s successes heavily depend on Rwandan military and logistical support. If these assumptions are correct, Western powers may well see Rwanda as a more reliable and predictable partner—one that could secure their resource interests in the region, something Kinshasa has failed to do for years due to its geographical and political detachment from the conflict zone. However, the situation is more complex than it seems. As M23 expands the territory under its control, it is not just gaining land—it is also increasing its ability to tax local populations. In late 2023, estimates suggested that M23 was collecting around $69,500 per month through various forms of taxation. This steady cash flow, combined with subsistence farming and local trade, actually sustains M23’s daily operations far more than mineral resources do. Extracting value from minerals is a slow, complex and difficult-to-control process, making it a less immediate source of funding for the rebels. So, while minerals are undeniably a catalyst for conflict and something that attracts both regional and global players, they are not the main factor keeping M23 alive. It would be a mistake to view it as the sole driving force behind instability. Even if access to resource extraction were cut off, M23 would still find ways to profit from controlling eastern DRC—which means the conflict in eastern DRC will persist regardless of changes in the resource trade. Why is the conflict exploding now? After its resurgence, M23 has been playing a long game, slowly building momentum for a decisive push. Until the right conditions were in place, they pushed forward assertively but carefully—avoiding an escalation that could bring the same level of international scrutiny as in 2012–2013, when it led to their defeat. In May 2022, M23 tested the waters near Goma but was repelled by the Congolese army and UN peacekeepers. A month later, in June, they triggered a “small-scale” humanitarian crisis at Uganda’s border by seizing the town of Bunagana, forcing thousands to flee—including Congolese soldiers. This move allowed them to control trade routes between Uganda and the DRC, giving them a stronger foothold. By February 2023, they had captured Mushaki and Rubaya, securing control over mines that produce nearly half of the DRC’s coltan output. And the more territory they controlled, the stronger their ranks grew. Meanwhile, there were several failed attempts at diplomacy. In April 2022, the Congolese government agreed to direct talks with several rebel groups in Nairobi, but nothing came of them. In July 2022, Angola attempted to broker a ceasefire, but violations by both sides rendered it ineffective. March 2023 saw new peace agreements, but these quickly collapsed, too. By December 2023, negotiations between the DRC and Rwanda had failed, further escalating tensions in Kivu. At the same time, public frustration with the perceived inaction of UN peacekeepers reached a boiling point. In August 2022, protests erupted in Goma and surrounding areas, targeting MONUSCO, the UN peacekeeping mission deployed since 1999, by far the most costly in UN history. That same month, the East African Community (EAC) deployed a regional task force, but it was stationed in South Kivu rather than North Kivu, where the crisis was most acute. Their presence often led to M23 not being fully removed, but simply repositioning and sometimes coexisting with peacekeepers, as seen in Bunagana. Many locals viewed troops from Burundi and Kenya as little different from the “occupiers” from M23. In the end, the Congolese government demanded the withdrawal of the EAC contingent by December 2023. That same month, after repeated appeals from DRC President Félix Tshisekedi, the UN Security Council adopted a resolution to withdraw MONUSCO from South Kivu and scale down its activities in other provinces. By the end of 2024, the mission was set to be fully dismantled. For M23, this was the perfect storm. The failures of international peacekeeping efforts, along with the stagnation and futility of negotiations—regardless of the mediators or external pressures on Rwanda and the DRC—ultimately played into M23’s hands. Though internal divisions persisted within the group, they understood that their window of opportunity was approaching. The arrival of SADC peacekeepers—who replaced the EAC forces—did little to change things. South Africa, the largest contributor, has been unwilling to fully commit. Public opinion largely views the casualties among South African troops as unjustifiable, while the country’s military is perceivably lacking the necessary preparedness for operations of such complexity, as is the case for eastern Congo. Throughout 2024, M23 laid all the groundwork to make their rapid advance on Goma possible in January 2025. In February 2024, they seized Shasha, a critical choke point controlling access to Goma’s supply routes. Around the same time, they came close to capturing Saké, which they fully took over in 2025—though sporadic shelling never ceased. By May 2024, half of Masisi Territory was under their control. Looking at the maps tracking M23’s territorial expansion compared to their 2012 peak when they first took Goma, it becomes painfully clear: their march toward Goma was never a question of ‘if’—only ‘when.’ Source: IPIS It appears that M23—and quite so Rwanda—have learned critical lessons from their 2013 defeat. Back then, as previously noted, the movement lacked both a political leader and a clear agenda, aside from an empty call for revolution across the DRC. Now, however, a major political figure has entered the scene: Corneille Nangaa has arrived in Goma, now under M23’s control. Formerly the head of the DRC’s National Electoral Commission, he was the one who validated Félix Tshisekedi’s contested victory in the 2018 elections. However, by 2023, tensions with Tshisekedi escalated, leading Nangaa to break ranks and align himself with M23. For the movement, he represents their first national-level political figure, unaffiliated with the Tutsi. Moreover, Nangaa has his own vision for the conflict: “In Congo, we have a non-state. Where all the armed groups have sprung up, it's because there’s no state. We want to recreate the state.” This suggests that the endgame for the current iteration of the conflict could be about securing political power in Kinshasa. This, in turn, echoes the dynamics of the First Congo War. Meanwhile, international mediators continue to flounder. Turkey has been dismissed, Angola’s peace talks have gone nowhere, South Africa has suffered reputational damage that led to tensions with Rwanda, and France’s shuttle diplomacy has achieved little. The EAC and SADC emergency summits continue, but this all with little coordination or tangible impact—each actor is seemingly pursuing their own interests, hoping for a chance of breakthrough. In stark contrast, M23 has moved with confidence and clarity, seeking solid control over eastern DRC and now willing to install an ally (at least) in Kinshasa.

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском The conflict in the African Great Lakes region, which had long remained in a low-intensity state, flared up again in the second half of January 2025. In the North Kivu province of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (hereinafter – DRC), rebel forces of the anti-government group M23, fighting against the Armed Forces of the DRC (Forces Armées de la République Démocratique du Congo, FARDC), launched an offensive and captured new territories. As of January 27, M23 entered the city of Goma, the largest city in the province [1]. Moreover, the DRC authorities claim that the city is also occupied by regular units of the Rwandan Armed Forces [2]. The rebel offensive has triggered panic and an outflow of local residents as well as refugees – Goma had been a refuge for several hundred thousand displaced persons. There are casualties not only among civilians but also among the UN peacekeeping contingent (Mission de l'Organisation des Nations Unies pour la Stabilisation en République Démocratique du Congo, MONUSCO) and peacekeepers from the Southern African Development Community – Southern African Development Community Mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo, SAMIDRC. The escalation of the conflict has been condemned by leading world powers and the United Nations – the UN Security Council has demanded an immediate ceasefire [3].  Rwanda plays a distinct role in these events. The Congolese rebel group M23 consists of ethnic Tutsis living in the DRC and aims to “ensure the rights of the Tutsi ethnic minority in the DRC” [4]. It was formed in 2012 and, after several military operations against government forces, ceased hostilities. However, in October 2022, M23 resumed military operations in North Kivu. The DRC government almost immediately accused Rwanda of fully supporting M23 — accusations that Rwanda has categorically denied and continues to deny to this day [5]. However, the United States and several European countries, citing intelligence reports, have openly stated that M23 is being used by Rwanda as a proxy force to conduct military operations in the eastern DRC [6]. The current fighting in North Kivu is a direct consequence of the failed attempt by the government of the Republic of Angola to mediate the peace process. The President of the DRC, Félix Tshisekedi, ran in the 2018 elections partly on a promise to achieve peace in the east of the country. However, throughout his time in office, he has failed to make any significant progress in this direction. In 2024, Angolan President João Lourenço proposed direct negotiations between the leaders of Rwanda and the DRC [7], which led to the signing of a ceasefire agreement between the two countries at the end of June 2024. However, further progress toward peace encountered a major obstacle: Tshisekedi categorically refused to recognize M23 as a participant in the negotiation process, stating that they are terrorists with whom direct dialogue is impossible [8]. Nevertheless, after a series of meetings between the foreign ministers of Angola, the DRC, and Rwanda, an agreement was reached that M23 representatives would still take part in the negotiations [9]. However, the trilateral summit in Luanda, scheduled for December 15, 2024, was canceled just days before it was set to take place. Both sides blamed each other for the meeting’s collapse [10]. As it now appears, the failed summit may have served as a starting point for M23's January offensive in North Kivu. Shortly before the outbreak of hostilities, Angola’s Foreign Minister, Téte António, during a working breakfast with members of the UN Security Council, called on the Council to continue its strong support for the negotiation process, effectively acknowledging that Angola’s efforts on this track had failed [11]. At the same time, Rwanda’s Foreign Minister, Olivier Nduhungirehe, speaking at the UN Security Council on counterterrorism issues, sharply criticized the DRC government, stating that “despite the direct and clear threat of terrorism, the DRC is trying to divert attention from addressing real problems” and accusing the DRC of distorting the actual situation in the east of the country [12]. Just days after these statements, M23 launched its offensive. It is important to note that the rebels launched their offensive well-prepared. As early as October 2024, reports emerged that revenue from the sale of minerals was bringing M23 at least $300 000 per month, which the rebels used to arm and equip their combat units. For more than a year, M23 has controlled mines in the Rubaya area of North Kivu — these deposits contain 15% of the world’s coltan reserves, a strategically critical mineral essential for high-tech industries [13]. At the same time, FARDC units stationed in the province suffered from supply shortages and demonstrated low combat readiness [14]. As a result, M23 forces rapidly broke through, capturing key cities in the province. Currently, M23 (and, as it is believed, the Rwandan army) has taken control of the cities of Sake and Goma — securing all key crossroads and roads in this part of North Kivu. Sake provides M23 with a route south to the Numbi mining region, which is rich in tin, tantalum, niobium, and tungsten [15]. If this region also falls to the rebels, the revenue from mineral extraction and sales will reach enormous levels, transforming M23 from a purely military force into a political power. Additionally, Goma is a port on Lake Kivu, and with access to watercraft, the rebels could launch amphibious operations anywhere along the northern shores of the lake, further expanding their controlled territory. The most enigmatic factor at the moment remains the behavior of Rwandan President Paul Kagame. Since the start of M23's offensive on Goma, his administration has not issued a single official statement. The last time Kagame commented on the situation in North Kivu was during a press conference on January 9, where he expressed hope that the new U.S. administration would take a more thoughtful and balanced approach to the conflict, considering all influencing factors [16]. On January 26, 2025, Rwanda’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs released a press statement expressing deep concern over the renewed escalation and reaffirming its commitment to a political resolution [17]. Apart from this, there have been no high-level statements from Kigali. However, political experts from various countries unanimously agree that all Rwandan state institutions, particularly the armed forces, are under Kagame’s total control [18]. They assert that any involvement of the Rwandan military in the DRC conflict — whether confirmed or merely suspected — would be impossible without his direct order. The most likely assumption is that Rwandan President Paul Kagame has begun implementing his long-term strategy: creating a buffer zone in eastern DRC with the help of M23. This would not only push the border further away (currently, the distance from Kigali to the DRC border is 150 km) but also significantly improve Rwanda’s economic position. The buffer zone’s territory would provide Rwanda with abundant water, agricultural, and mineral resources [19]. Moreover, such a buffer zone would give Kagame additional leverage in future negotiations, as the territories occupied by M23 would be directly linked to the political resolution of the conflict. A new territorial reality has already been established in eastern DRC. For Angolan President João Lourenço, this is a highly unfavorable outcome — his bid to become a regional peacemaker has failed [20]. One possible reason for Lourenço’s failure is the loss of U.S. interest in the DRC conflict at the end of 2024. As some analysts suggest, “Once Washington stopped applying pressure, Rwanda realized there was nothing to fear and withdrew from the negotiation process” [21]. Now, the task of translating this territorial reality into diplomatic and political terms has been taken up by Kenyan President William Ruto. On January 27, he issued an official statement announcing that a meeting between DRC President Félix Tshisekedi and Rwandan President Paul Kagame would take place in the near future. If this meeting occurs and results in any agreements, it will mark a diplomatic success for Ruto and strengthen his position on the regional stage [22]. Notes: [1] Rwandan-backed rebels enter Congo's Goma in major escalation // https://www.reuters.com/world/africa/rebels-enter-centre-congos-goma-after-claiming-capture-city-2025-01-27/[2] DR Congo says Rwanda army in Goma // https://www.dw.com/en/dr-congo-says-rwanda-army-in-goma/a-71422564[3] Rebel Conflict in Congo Escalates with Capture of Goma // https://www.asisonline.org/security-management-magazine/latest-news/today-in-security/2025/january/goma-capture-congo-M23/[4] Luanda summit postponed: Kinshasa’s maneuvers to frustrate peace process // https://www.thegreatlakeseye.com/post?s=Luanda--summit--postponed%3A--Kinshasa%E2%80%99s--maneuvers--to--frustrate--peace--process_1626[5] Rwanda denies backing armed group in DRC // https://www.theeastafrican.co.ke/tea/news/east-africa/dr-congo-accuses-rwanda-of-backing-militia-violence-3828930[6] Rwandan army ‘ready to invade DRC’ and help rebels seize city // https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2025/jan/25/rwandan-army-ready-to-invade-drc-and-help-rebels-seize-city[7] Presidente angolano propõe diálogo directo entre Rwanda e RDC // https://angop.ao/noticias/politica/joao-lourenco-propoe-dialogo-directo-entre-rwanda-e-rdc/[8] Avancée du M23: Discours de Félix Tshisekedi (Intégralité) // https://actualite.cd/2022/11/04/avancee-du-m23-discours-de-felix-tshisekedi-integralite[9] POSTPONEMENT OF LUANDA SUMMIT DUE TO UNRESOLVED CRITICAL ISSUES // https://www.minaffet.gov.rw/updates/news-details/postponement-of-luanda-summit-due-to-unresolved-critical-issues[10] Emergency ministerial meeting on the current escalation of the conflict in Eastern DRC // https://amaniafrica-et.org/emergency-ministerial-meeting-on-the-current-escalation-of-the-conflict-in-eastern-drc/[11] Angola Aims for UN Security Council Support On DRC Issue // https://allafrica.com/stories/202501230042.html[12] Africa: Rwanda Proposes Five Steps to Reinforce Africa's Counter-Terrorism Effort // https://allafrica.com/stories/202501230067.html[13] M23 rebel roup generates approximately $300,000 a month from mining-UN // https://www.africanews.com/2024/10/01/m23-rebel-group-generates-approximately-300000-a-month-from-mining-un//[14] Advancing M23 Fighters In DR Congo Aided By Rwanda Backing, Army Weakness // https://www.barrons.com/news/advancing-m23-fighters-in-dr-congo-aided-by-rwanda-backing-army-weakness-f021df51[15] Petrology and Detail Geological Mapping of the Precambrian Basement Rocks of the Sn-Ta-Nb Numbi Deposit, Democratic Republic of the Congo // https://www.iieta.org/journals/eesrj/paper/10.18280/eesrj.090102[16] Africa’s anticipation of Trump’s foreign policy // https://en.igihe.com/politics-48/article/africa-s-anticipation-of-trump-s-foreign-policy[17] STATEMENT ON SITUATION IN EASTERN DRC // https://www.minaffet.gov.rw/updates/news-details/statement-on-situation-in-eastern-drc[18] The Case Against Rwanda's President Paul Kagame // https://www.newsweek.com/case-against-rwandas-president-paul-kagame-63167[19] What does Rwanda want in the DRC? // https://www.egmontinstitute.be/what-does-rwanda-want-in-the-drc/[20] Thousands uprooted as Congo M23 rebels near Goma in major advance // https://www.yahoo.com/news/thousands-uprooted-congo-m23-rebels-105837754.html[21] Advancing M23 Fighters In DR Congo Aided By Rwanda Backing, Army Weakness // https://www.barrons.com/news/advancing-m23-fighters-in-dr-congo-aided-by-rwanda-backing-army-weakness-f021df51[22] Rwanda, Congo presidents to meet as rebels take Goma, Kenya's leader says // https://www.voanews.com/a/rwanda-congo-presidents-to-meet-as-rebels-take-goma-kenya-leader-says-/7952210.html

한국어로 읽기 Leer en español In Deutsch lesen Gap اقرأ بالعربية Lire en français Читать на русском Conflict hotspots and democratic instability are the major challenges facing a continent that now everyone in the world wants to partner with. In these, which will be the first articles of the year, we aim to reflect on 2025, a key year to consolidate Africa's growing importance in global geopolitics, a trend that has been evident in the last two years. A key point: we are just days away from the inauguration of an unleashed Donald Trump* in international relations. It will be crucial to observe how he handles his ties with Africa and how African countries react in a world marked by populism, far-right politics, and the decline of multilateral organizations. This weakens global consensus and reduces the prominence of Human Rights in increasingly polarized international debates, marked by disinformation and noise. Today, I will address the main challenges and threats facing the continent, from a more security-oriented perspective, including the main active and potential conflicts. Next week, I will take a more positive approach, focusing on the opportunities, even in this uncertain global scenario. Sudan: The worst humanitarian catastrophe in the least mediated war Sudan is facing the worst humanitarian catastrophe today, with over 150,000 deaths, millions of displaced people and refugees since the civil war began in April 2023. The conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has left 24 million people facing food insecurity and triggered a cholera outbreak, accounting for 10% of the global humanitarian needs despite representing less than 1% of the world's population. In 2025, the outlook remains bleak. The supply of weapons and fuel by Russia, Iran, and the United Arab Emirates fuels the conflict, while the lack of political will between the SAF and RSF blocks any progress toward peace. Without a drastic change in international intervention, Sudan will remain trapped in a cycle of war, hunger, and global neglect. The conflict in Sudan is so complex that it is impossible to clearly define who the aggressors and the victims are, unlike in Ukraine or Palestine. In a world of simplification and misinformation, these complexities are overlooked, which explains why Sudan receives so little attention. Sahel In 2025, Sahel faces growing political instability and jihadist violence. Coups in Mali, Niger, and Burkina Faso have led to the formation of the Sahel Alliance (AES), an anti-Western military bloc seeking to consolidate its authority. However, it must gain legitimacy both with citizens and international institutions while managing crises in governance, development, and security. In this context, the region's stability and regional influence will depend on its relationship with the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) (it is expected that in the coming days or weeks, the definitive rupture and exit** of the three countries from this West African economic bloc will be official), the African Union (which is also undergoing elections and renewal of its leaders) and foreign powers. Russia's growing presence, especially through the previously known Wagner Group (now Africa Corps), further complicates the dynamics in the Sahel. Moscow has filled the void left by France's withdrawal and the diminished influence of the EU, offering military support to the juntas in exchange for expanding its geopolitical influence (while also taking large amounts of gold to finance its invasion of Ukraine). However, the activities of Russian soldiers have been linked to human rights abuses, which could exacerbate social tensions and the delegitimization of military governments. It is a complicated moment, with a context of reinforcing the anti-Western narrative in the region (Senegal and Ivory Coast have already joined the call for the French to withdraw their troops from the military bases they still maintain in those countries) while consolidating the military juntas' dependence on external actors, rather than strengthening their state capabilities. The rise of jihadist organizations and the resulting violence remain the biggest security challenge for the region. Factors such as poverty, corruption, and state weakness perpetuate the influence of these groups, which have shown a remarkable ability to adapt and fund themselves through the exploitation of local resources and illicit activities. The withdrawal of international forces has left a security vacuum that not only facilitates the expansion of their territorial and social control but also increases their recruitment capacity, as they become the only option for some young people to find a way to support themselves. We thus have a prolonged Sahel crisis ahead, with all the implications it holds for the migration scenario along the so-called Atlantic Route, now primarily driven by young Malians fleeing the instability caused by jihadism and government breakdown. At the same time, we must remain attentive to maritime security in the Gulf of Guinea, whose control should be a concern for us. Other conflicts We must not forget that there are other points on the African continent that we must remain constantly alert to. Here, telegraphically, we highlight the main ones: Somalia The humanitarian crisis in Somalia remains one of the most complex in the world, exacerbated by internal conflicts, clan violence, and recurring climate disasters. In 2024, more than 4.5 million people in 20 districts were affected by insecurity and clashes, including over seventy clashes between clans since June, which caused the displacement of nearly 395,000 people. Additionally, military operations against the jihadist group Al-Shabaab and protection incidents related to displacement, which exceeded 11,000 between January and October 2024, are worsening the situation. Climate change has increased the country's vulnerability, with devastating events such as the 2020-2023 drought and the 2023 Deyr floods, which caused damages estimated at $176.1 million in 16 districts. The combination of conflicts and climate crises continues to undermine the country's recovery and development efforts. Democratic Republic of the Congo The DRC faces a critical stage in 2025, marked by the intensification of armed conflicts and severe food insecurity. Tensions in North Kivu, due to the advance of the M23/AFC group, and the increased military presence in provinces such as Maniema and Mai-Ndombe, threaten to cause massive displacement of people. Additionally, the concerning projections from United Nations agencies (FAO and WFP) on acute food insecurity foresee a significant deterioration for the most vulnerable populations in the country. Ethiopia Following the war between the central Ethiopian government and the northern Tigray region, Ethiopia has not yet closed the chapter on active conflicts, as it remains embroiled in a violent internal conflict, this time led by militia groups from the Amhara and Oromia regions. There are also concerns about the return of political hostility between Ethiopia and Eritrea.  —-*Article was written before Trump’s inauguration, which was on January 20, 2025**Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso formally exited ECOWAS on January 29, 2025.