Mali’s Fulani Community and the Islamist Insurgency

We published this analysis a year ago. We’re re-posting it now because its insights remain relevant.

Mali’s ethnic Fulani community has been at the heart of the jihadist insurgency in that country ever since the epicenter of the conflict shifted from northern Mali to central Mali in roughly 2016-2017, making the conflict both more intractable and more dangerous for the country and the region. Central Mali (Ségou and Mopti regions) is more critical to Mali’s well-being than northern Mali. Fulanis are central (though by no means the only) players in the conflict there, where they have proven to be particularly susceptible to radicalization.[1]

The Fulanis’ large regional footprint stretching across much of West Africa makes them a vector for jihadism throughout the Sahel and beyond. This makes understanding the Fulanis’ status in Mali and their relationship with jihadism important for the security of Mali and its neighbors. Counterinsurgency and counterterrorism strategies must offer ways to address Fulani grievances and defuse inter and intra-communal violence associated with Fulanis and their neighbors. It also matters for Fulanis themselves: State and non-state actors throughout the Sahel tend to target Fulanis for collective punishment in response to Islamist violence. Anti-Fulani violence is a slow-burning humanitarian disaster. It also is immensely counter-productive given its documented propensity for spurring further radicalization. Massacre, it should go without saying, is not an answer to the Fulani “problem” and only throws gasoline onto a fire that already is out of control in central Mali.

This paper provides an overview of the role that Fulanis have played in Mali’s insurgency since the shift of the conflict to central Mali. Obviously relevant are the unique characteristics of central Mali that make the region distinct from the rest of the country and have made it a powder keg now exploding in slow motion. 14 North has prepared the study by drawing on open sources and consulting with local experts on the ground.

A Shifting Epicenter

From the arrival in the early 2000s of the Algerian terrorist group that would become Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) to roughly 2016-2017, jihadism in Mali was almost exclusively confined to northern Mali, which we define as Mali north of Mopti. There it was originally the affair of Algerians who used Mali as a safe haven for their war against the Algerian state. Eventually, it took root, and indigenous Malians signed up and set their sights on domestic targets. The success of jihadism in those days owed a lot to two overlapping conflicts, one between armed Arab and Tuareg groups and the state and one among armed Arab and Tuareg groups. These conflicts provided AQIM protection against the Malian state which from 2000 to 2012 had to tread carefully in the north. They also reflected tensions and divisions that AQIM cunningly exploited to insinuate itself into local communities. It follows that the Malians who radicalized were predominately Arab and Tuareg, though with some Fulanis, Songhai, and others in the mix.

In 2012, a predominately Tuareg non-jihadist group, the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA), launched a rebellion against the state. Three jihadist groups hijacked the rebellion. They were the Movement for Oneness and Jihad in West Africa (MUJAO), Ansar Dine, and AQIM. They pushed aside the MNLA and conquered the north and a portion of central Mali.

The arrival first of the MNLA and then MUJAO in central Mali precipitated the flight of the Malian state from central Mali. MUJAO also attracted some central Malian Fulanis. The firebrand Fulani preacher, Hamadoun Koufa, then part of Ansar Din, reportedly was able to infiltrate Fulani fighters into Kona as part of a January 2013 offensive toward southern Mali and helped defeat Malian forces there.[2] It was that offensive that precipitated the French intervention known as Operation Serval.

In the following weeks, the French army swept jihadist groups out of central Mali and pushed the front north. From that point on, the fighting took place primarily in the regions of Gao and Kidal. The Malian state partially returned to central Mali in the wake of the French, though for Fulanis, the state’s return only made matters worse: It meant the return of taxes, corruption, and biased justice. It also meant the return of security forces that targeted Fulanis for collective punishment because of their association with MUJAO. There have been well-documented human rights abuses and even massacres committed against Fulanis. The first of note was in March 2013, when at least 20 people, mostly Fulanis, were killed in Doungoura and thrown into a well. Though the violence has not been tied to the state, it reportedly took the state at least a year to investigate the crime, sending a message to Fulanis that the state was not interested in protecting them.[3]

State security forces subsequently have been responsible for anti-Fulani violence, with state-aligned militias (primarily Dogon militias and Dozos) sharing responsibility.[4] Beginning in December 2021, state security and defense forces found a partner in crime in the form of Russian mercenaries, who were at least present on numerous occasions when Malian forces allegedly committed acts of violence that targeted Fulani civilians and who reportedly played a significant role in the massacre committed in Moura (Mopti region) on 27-31 March 2022.[5] According to an eyewitness report, the Malian soldiers, helped by Russians, targeted Fulanis. These acts of violence have set off a vicious circle wherein collective punishment against Fulanis furthers their radicalization, resulting in more violence perpetrated by Fulani jihadists, spurring more collective punishment, etc.

Jihadists began their effort to return to central Mali through a series of attacks in Mopti, Ségou, and Koulikoro in 2015-2016. Responsibility for the attacks is difficult to establish and, in any case, varied. However, Fulanis increasingly rallied to Koufa, whose armed faction of Ansar Din in 2016 became known as Katiba Macina. Katiba Macina, which now is part of the Al Qaeda-affiliated of Jama’at Nasr al-Islam wal Muslimin (JNIM) coalition, has become increasingly prominent within the coalition.

Alongside jihadist attacks was a steady increase in violence perpetrated by state security forces—primarily against Fulanis—and by various militias that formed to resist the jihadists and frequently attack Fulanis. The most prominent among them have been ethnic Dogon militias. The net result is an aggregate surge in violence in central Mali that continues to this day, while violence in northern Mali, except in the Liptako-Gourma area, has declined. According to the Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED), the epicenter of violence by 2017 had shifted to central Mali and Liptako-Gourma, fueled by jihadist violence and violence against civilians (again, predominantly Fulanis) by state security services and militias.[6] Data collected by 14 North covering 2021 also confirms the trend. Central Mali is ablaze, with Fulanis at the center of the fight either as victims of security forces (now assisted by Russians) and militias or, under the flag of Katiba Macina, perpetrators.

Behind the Violence: The Inner Delta as Powder Keg

An explanation for the explosion of violence in central Mali can be found by looking beyond the precipitating events of 2012-2013 to the region’s distinctive eco-system, political economy, and history. What makes all these things distinct is the Niger River’s “Inner Delta” and associated seasonal flooding.

In the Inner Delta, peace and stability historically depended on a rough equilibrium among people who practice farming, fishing, and herding.[7] One key to that equilibrium was a political dispensation that goes at least as far back as the Fulani-dominated Macina Empire that thrived in the middle third of the 19^th century. The system profited above all the “politico-religious elites” and served the interests of Fulanis.[8] The remnants of this system take the form, among other things, of inherited claims to control over pastureland—most notably the well-watered bourgous—and social hierarchies within the Fulani community and between Fulanis and their neighbors. There are, for example, aristocratic Fulanis (rimbe), low-born Fulanis, former slave Fulanis (rimaibé), local Fulanis with free access to pastures, and those from elsewhere who come seasonally.

This is not to say that everything used to be tranquil. Frictions between farmers and herders (predominantly Fulani), for example, were ever-present and occasionally violent. However, central Malian society was able to contain the violence and manage disputes. Its ability to do so collapsed. Reasons include the policies of the post-independence state (which have favored settled agriculture), successive droughts, climate change, a growing population, state corruption, and frictions related to control over and access to bourgous.[9] Many lower-born or outsider Fulanis felt exploited by Fulani elites as well as the state, whose corrupt administrators appeared always to rule in the elites’ favor. To make matters worse, insecurity completely killed off a once economically important tourist industry.

As the late Adam Thiam has written, Sahelian society is confronted with a blocking of the social elevator, resulting from the rigidity of relations between nobles and former slaves, urban notables and rural populations, hereditary imams and upstart religious leaders, and a youth that contests traditional authorities of all kinds while becoming a majority thanks to demographic growth that makes the population ever younger.[10] Impoverished and threatened herders, families from lower social classes, or non-establishment religious leaders share the sentiment of being stuck in their situation or exploited by local elites in collusion with representatives of the state. The Delta is, to paraphrase Thiam, mined with corruption and injustice, making it ripe for any “entrepreneur of a cause,” jihadist or not.[11]

In this context, it is easy to understand the appeal of the jihadist message, especially the Fulani variant preached by Koufa. Koufa’s message is egalitarian. It also evokes the glory days of the Fulani jihads of the 19^th century, a time when Fulanis were on top of Mali’s political and social hierarchies rather than suffering at their bottom. As is the case in northern Mali, in central Mali jihadists give people who live under them the feeling that they can provide equitable justice and assure their daily security.[12]

Who are Katiba Macina?

Katiba Macina draws from a variety of different groups. It is by all accounts mostly Fulani, though not exclusively. Interestingly, those who join because of ideological, Islamist convictions reportedly constitute a small minority. The rest nurse various grievances, including revenge for violence committed by the state or state-affiliated militias, seek advancement or otherwise pursue various political agendas. Some want safety. Others are there for the money. According to Thiam and a central Malian expert who consults for 14 North, Katiba Macina’s members fall into the following groups:

1.    Low-caste Fulani herders from outside central Mali who come seasonally to the region’s rich pastures. They are subject to the abuses of the state and exploitation by the hereditary elites who control access to the bourgous, and who tax them heavily. They reportedly are easy marks for Koufa, who preaches war against the state and traditional elites alike. Forever excluded from attaining higher station, they seek an end to the elites’ taxes and, ultimately, the entire system. According to the expert, “it’s the bourgou…that is the main goal, but jihad is what is advanced as a cover.”

2.    Local Fulanis who are not taxed to enter bourgous but who nonetheless find their advancement blocked.

3.    Fulani elites (diowro) who are among those who control the bourgous but see joining Katiba Macina as a way to avoid losing everything.

4.    Fulani former cattle thieves (terrerey) who thought it better to rally to Katiba Macina than to suffer the judgment of Islamic courts.

5.    Fulanis who served in MUJAO before demobilizing in 2013 after Serval.

6.    Talibés, i.e., zealous Koranic school students. These are few.

7.    Fighters who join for money.

It should be made clear that many Fulanis have not joined Katiba Macina, and some have formed self-defense groups in response to Dogon and other militias that target them. Fulani militias reportedly fought against jihadists; although caught between two fires (jihadis and the state), they no longer exist, and some of their members have since joined Katiba Macina. The percentage of central Malian Fulanis who support Katiba Macina is not known; any estimates are pure speculation.

Fulanis Outside the Inner Delta: The Example of Burkina Faso

The particulars of central Mali help explain the explosion of violence in that region and the ascent of Katiba Macina. Outside central Mali, different circumstances prevail. One can argue that there are as many variations of the “Fulani problem” as there are countries in which they reside. However, elsewhere in the Sahel and West Africa more broadly, the following four basic conditions apply and help set the conditions for radicalization and violence:

1.    A breakdown of societal mechanisms, be they customary or governmental, that helped manage conflicts.

2.    Internal hierarchies that pit Fulani against Fulani and foster resentment among subordinate Fulanis against both elites and the system that they perceive has the elites’ back.

3.    Real and perceived marginalization, stigmatization, and persecution.

4.    Government counter-terrorism efforts that tend to focus on security operations, which all too often amount to targeting Fulanis for collective punishment

The explosive potential of these factors is evident in Burkina Faso, where what might be described as a Katiba Macina offshoot, Ansarul Islam, emerged in the Soum region in 2016 and started an insurgency that now afflicts most of the country.

The Fulani community in Soum province is divided between those who are descendants of noble classes and those who are the descendants of former slaves, known as rimaibé. Although the rimaibé and their former masters are largely indistinguishable and share the same culture and language, the division remains.[13] Ansarul Islam draws primarily from rimaibé and feeds off a double, nested set of resentments. The first is a general resentment among Fulanis vis-à-vis the Mossi-dominated state that, from the Fulani point of view, does little or nothing for Fulanis and gives signs of being biased against them. The second, specific to rimaibé, has to do with resentment against nobles and an established order that discriminates against them as unlucky denizens of the bottom of the social totem pole. [14] In this context, it is easy to understand the appeal of Malam Ibrahim Dicko’s preaching. Dicko, a follower of Koufa and who founded Ansarul Islam, preached against the politico-religious elites who dominated Soum, their approach to Islam, and the entire political dispensation that prevailed and kept the rising rimaibé population under the nobles’ heel.

Burkinabè Fulanis have been victims of organized and brutal attacks because of their ethnic status, sometimes at the hands of farmers because of land conflicts, but often just because Fulanis are blamed for many things and subject to collective punishment.[15]  Le Monde reported an interview with a former Ansarul Islam fighter, who alleged he was motivated to join because Burkinabè security forces, often dressed in civilian clothing, were killing and torturing innocent civilians, including his adoptive father in Djibo, because, as Fulanis, they were presumed guilty.[16] In the same interview, the young former fighter also explained that the poor treatment of Fulanis convinced Dicko, who at the time associated with Koufa’s contingent in Ansar Din, to break with what had been a Mali-focused strategy consisting of supporting the fight in Mali. Instead, he crossed the rubicon and attacked a Burkinabè military post in Nassoumbou. According to the fighter’s version of events, Dicko traveled to the Soum in November 2016 for family reasons. He found his village, Soboulé, “besieged and humiliated” by Burkinabè security forces who mistreated the inhabitants because they regarded all Fulanis as Islamists. Then at the end of November came the Burkinabè military operation known as Séguéré, which involved other abuses. This was the last straw for Dicko.

Conclusion

The shift of the epicenter of Mali’s jihadist insurgency to central Mali and the spread of the conflict in Burkina Faso highlights the importance of the Fulani community, which is now on center stage. Some Fulanis are principal perpetrators, it is true, but increasingly all Fulanis are principal victims or perceive themselves to be, which is in and of itself dangerous.

The bad news is that the complexity of the various economic, political, and social problems associated with the “Fulani problem” makes the problem a challenge for weak states to solve. Too often, they resort to attempting a shortcut: Targeting Fulanis, often by means of militias. Mali’s enlistment of Russia’s Wagner Group, which has deployed to central Mali, fits this pattern, given Wagner’s record of targeting Fulanis in the Central African Republic. There is a growing body of reports alleging Wagner’s complicity in exactions against primarily Fulanis in Mali, crowned most recently by the massacre in Moura. Besides being unjust, this tactic has only brought further radicalization and bloodshed. The good news is that understanding the Fulani problem yields a clear albeit long list of things Sahelian states, helped by their international partners, can do to defuse the conflict. Any successful counterterrorism, counterinsurgency, or counter-violent extremism strategy in the Sahel must feature a robust strategy for addressing the needs of the Fulani community and bridging the chasm between it and the state.

Barrière, Olivier, and Catherine Barrière. Un droit à inventer : Foncier et environnement dans le delta intérieur du Niger. Un droit à inventer : Foncier et environnement dans le delta intérieur du Niger. À travers champs. Marseille: IRD Éditions, 2018. http://books.openedition.org/irdeditions/14471.

Bemahoun, Honko Roger Judicaël. Countering Violent Extremism in Djelgodji Country. IPERSO, 2017.

Cissé, Modibo Ghaly. “Understanding Fulani Perspectives on the Sahel Crisis.” Africa Center for Strategic Studies, April 22, 2020. https://africacenter.org/spotlight/understanding-fulani-perspectives-sahel-crisis/.

Crisis Group. Mali central: la fabrique d’une insurrection? Rapport Afrique 238. Crisis Group, 2016.

———. Nord du Burkina Faso: ce que cache le jihad. 254. Crisis Group, 2017.

Diallo, Issa. “Les pasteurs nomades au Burkina Faso.” In Pasteurs nomades et transhumants autochtones, 99–111. Paris: Éditions l’Harmattan, 2010.

Dzhemal, Alexandre. “Au Mali, cinq jours de massacre à Moura.” Libération, April 3, 2022. https://www.liberation.fr/international/afrique/au-mali-cinq-jours-de-massacre-a-moura-20220403_ML5GR2ND3JH57BAWML5GHQ7W24/.

Human Rights Watch. “Mali: Militias, Armed Islamists Ravage Central Mali.” Human Rights Watch, February 10, 2020. https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/02/10/mali-militias-armed-islamists-ravage-central-mali.

———. “We Used to Be Brothers” Self-Defense Group Abuses in Central Mali. Human Rights Watch, 2018.

Le Cam, Morgane. “Au Mali, les liaisons dangéreuses entre l’Etat et les milices.” Le Monde, July 24, 2018. https://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2018/07/24/au-mali-les-liaisons-dangereuses-entre-l-etat-et-les-milices_5335256_3212.html.

———. “Burkina Faso : confessions d’un ancien djihadiste.” Le Monde, December 10, 2017. https://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2017/12/10/confessions-d-un-djihadiste-du-burkina-vu-ce-que-font-les-forces-de-securite-a-nos-parents-je-ne-regretterai-jamais-leur-mort_5227587_3212.html.

Matfess, Hilary. “JNIM: A Rising Threat to Stability in the Sahel | ACLED.” ACLED (blog), February 1, 2019. https://acleddata.com/2019/02/01/jnim-a-rising-threat-to-stability-in-the-sahel/.

———. “Neighbors in Arms: Intercommunal Violence and Targeting of Civilians in Mali in 2018 | ACLED.” ACLED (blog), 2018. https://acleddata.com/2018/11/19/neighbors-in-arms-intercommunal-violence-and-targeting-of-civilians-in-mali-in-2018/.

Nabole, Ignace Ismaël. “Terrorisme au Nord : Les révélations de Roger Bemahoun.” Burkina24.com (blog), November 4, 2017. https://www.burkina24.com/2017/11/04/terrorisme-au-nord-les-revelations-de-roger-bemahoun/.

Thiam, Adam. Centre du Mali: Enjeux et dangers d’une crise négligée. Centre pour le dialogue humanitaire, 2017.

Zanoletti, Giovanni. “Mali – the ‘de-Regionalization’ of Armed Rebellion | ACLED.” ACLED (blog), 2018. https://acleddata.com/2018/02/16/mali-the-de-regionalization-of-armed-rebellion/.

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[1] Modibo Ghaly Cissé, “Understanding Fulani Perspectives on the Sahel Crisis” (Africa Center for Strategic Studies, April 22, 2020), https://africacenter.org/spotlight/understanding-fulani-perspectives-sahel-crisis/.

[2] Adam Thiam, Centre du Mali: Enjeux et dangers d’une crise négligée (Centre pour le dialogue humanitaire, 2017), 34.

[3] For details of the human rights abuses, see Crisis Group, Mali central: la fabrique d’une insurrection?, Rapport Afrique 238 (Crisis Group, 2016); Human Rights Watch, “We Used to Be Brothers” Self-Defense Group Abuses in Central Mali (Human Rights Watch, 2018); Human Rights Watch, “Mali: Militias, Armed Islamists Ravage Central Mali,” Human Rights Watch, February 10, 2020, https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/02/10/mali-militias-armed-islamists-ravage-central-mali.

[4] Morgane Le Cam, “Au Mali, les liaisons dangéreuses entre l’Etat et les milices,” Le Monde, July 24, 2018, https://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2018/07/24/au-mali-les-liaisons-dangereuses-entre-l-etat-et-les-milices_5335256_3212.html.

[5] Alexandre Dzhemal, “Au Mali, cinq jours de massacre à Moura,” Libération, April 3, 2022, https://www.liberation.fr/international/afrique/au-mali-cinq-jours-de-massacre-a-moura-20220403_ML5GR2ND3JH57BAWML5GHQ7W24/.

[6] Giovanni Zanoletti, “Mali – the ‘de-Regionalization’ of Armed Rebellion | ACLED,” ACLED (blog), 2018, https://acleddata.com/2018/02/16/mali-the-de-regionalization-of-armed-rebellion/; Hilary Matfess, “Neighbors in Arms: Intercommunal Violence and Targeting of Civilians in Mali in 2018 | ACLED,” ACLED (blog), 2018, https://acleddata.com/2018/11/19/neighbors-in-arms-intercommunal-violence-and-targeting-of-civilians-in-mali-in-2018/; Hilary Matfess, “JNIM: A Rising Threat to Stability in the Sahel | ACLED,” ACLED (blog), February 1, 2019, https://acleddata.com/2019/02/01/jnim-a-rising-threat-to-stability-in-the-sahel/.

[7] Olivier Barrière and Catherine Barrière, Un droit à inventer : Foncier et environnement dans le delta intérieur du Niger, Un droit à inventer : Foncier et environnement dans le delta intérieur du Niger, À travers champs (Marseille: IRD Éditions, 2018), 13, http://books.openedition.org/irdeditions/14471.

[8] Barrière and Barrière, 23.

[9] “The management [of the equilibrium] did not adapt or adapted too little to the new environmental givens.” Barrière and Barrière, 13.

[10] Thiam, Centre du Mali: Enjeux et dangers d’une crise négligée, 23.

[11] Thiam, 24.

[12] Thiam, 37.

[13] Crisis Group, Nord du Burkina Faso: ce que cache le jihad, 254 (Crisis Group, 2017), 1.

[14] For a detailed close examination of the politics of Soum’s Fulanis and their relevance for radicalization, see Honko Roger Judicaël Bemahoun, Countering Violent Extremism in Djelgodji Country (IPERSO, 2017); Ignace Ismaël Nabole, “Terrorisme au Nord : Les révélations de Roger Bemahoun,” Burkina24.com (blog), November 4, 2017, https://www.burkina24.com/2017/11/04/terrorisme-au-nord-les-revelations-de-roger-bemahoun/.

[15] Issa Diallo, “Les pasteurs nomades au Burkina Faso,” in Pasteurs nomades et transhumants autochtones (Paris: Éditions l’Harmattan, 2010), 104.

[16] Morgane Le Cam, “Burkina Faso : confessions d’un ancien djihadiste,” Le Monde, December 10, 2017, https://www.lemonde.fr/afrique/article/2017/12/10/confessions-d-un-djihadiste-du-burkina-vu-ce-que-font-les-forces-de-securite-a-nos-parents-je-ne-regretterai-jamais-leur-mort_5227587_3212.html.