When road closures become political tools in Mali’s conflict
On June 24, 2026, the strategic highway linking Bamako to Mourdiah and Nara in west-central Mali reopened after weeks of blockade enforced by the JNIM (Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin). While the reopening marks a return to normalcy for travelers and traders, the circumstances surrounding it reveal a deeper shift in how power is contested in the Sahel.
This wasn’t achieved through a decisive military operation by the state. Instead, local mediators and community leaders brokered the agreement with the jihadist group. The episode underscores a fundamental transformation in the conflict’s dynamics: control over territory is no longer the sole measure of power. Today, influence is increasingly wielded through the ability to regulate daily life—who controls access to roads, markets, and mobility is now as critical as who holds military posts.
From territorial conquest to functional governance
For years, analyses of the Sahel conflict focused on which armed groups controlled which towns or military positions. But the strategy of the JNIM suggests a more subtle evolution. While it still launches attacks on state forces, it has expanded its tactics to include road blockades, restricted circulation, supply disruptions, and control over key trade corridors connecting Bamako to Kayes, Nioro-du-Sahel, Ségou, and beyond. These actions don’t just disrupt mobility—they reshape the very fabric of local economies and social life.
The group’s approach reflects a broader trend in modern insurgencies: power is no longer solely about controlling land, but about mastering the functions that make a society function. Roads, markets, and supply chains have become the new battlegrounds. Closing a road isn’t just a tactical move; it’s a political statement—a way to assert authority over who moves, what circulates, and how communities survive.
The rise of performative legitimacy in the Sahel
This shift also challenges traditional notions of state authority. An effective state isn’t just one that claims sovereignty over a territory; it’s one that delivers tangible services—security, justice, economic continuity—that populations rely on daily. The JNIM appears to be exploiting this gap. Rather than attempting to govern entire regions directly, it focuses on capturing the functions that make governance meaningful: securing trade routes, arbitrating disputes, and enforcing its own rules in areas where the state’s presence is weak or inconsistent.
This isn’t charismatic leadership in the classic sense. Instead, it’s what could be called performative legitimacy—a form of authority derived not from formal institutions or inherited traditions, but from the daily demonstration of the ability to provide order. When a road is reopened after negotiations with the JNIM, or when markets resume under its oversight, the group gains credibility as an alternative source of governance, even if it rejects formal state structures.
Why communities negotiate—and why it matters
The reopening of the Mourdiah–Nara axis wasn’t the result of a unified community decision. Traders, transporters, religious leaders, and local authorities all have distinct interests and relationships with armed groups. Some may seek protection or access to resources; others may resist collaboration. These tensions create spaces of negotiation where different forms of authority—state, traditional, and jihadist—compete for influence.
For many in the region, survival depends on maintaining trade flows and mobility. When the state fails to provide these essential functions, communities often have little choice but to engage with alternative authorities, even reluctantly. This dynamic doesn’t signal support for the JNIM, but it does highlight the erosion of the state’s monopoly on governance in peripheral areas.
The real battle isn’t over territory—it’s over authority
The JNIM’s strategy suggests a long-term goal: not to replace the state entirely, but to gradually erode its functional dominance. By controlling roads, markets, and dispute resolution mechanisms, it creates parallel systems of order that challenge the state’s legitimacy in practice, if not in law. The state may retain its legal sovereignty, but if it fails to deliver security and stability where people live, its authority becomes hollow.
The conflict in the Sahel is no longer just a war of positions. It’s a contest over who can organize daily life most effectively. The group that can guarantee safety, regulate commerce, and resolve conflicts—even informally—gains the social recognition that defines real power in the region. For the Malian state, the challenge isn’t just reclaiming lost territory. It’s proving that it can still be the most credible actor in delivering the functions that matter most to its people.
