Across the vast, red-dusted expanses of the Sahel, where conflicts often unfold far from global scrutiny, Mali is confronting a harsh reality: severing ties with those who previously maintained a crucial defense against instability carries profound consequences.
The current wave of deadly attacks plaguing the nation is neither random nor an act of fate. Instead, these incidents are the anticipated outcome of a strategic political shift, championed as an assertion of national sovereignty. This sovereignty has been amplified through a fervent anti-French narrative, serving as a primary tool for internal legitimation by the authorities in Bamako.
Bamako sought the departure of French forces, and it was granted.
The final French military convoys departed from Gao, Tessalit, and Ménaka amidst jeers from segments of the public, fueled by years of accusatory rhetoric. At that time, practical operational realities seemed to hold little weight. It mattered little that in 2013, as jihadist columns threatened to advance southward, it was French forces that decisively halted the imminent collapse of the Malian state.
President Emmanuel Macron articulated this with stark clarity: “Mali did not make the best decision by expelling the French army.” This simple, almost clinical statement now resonates as a clear strategic truth. Macron has never dismissed past French missteps, acknowledging that Paris at times overemphasized military solutions without effectively fostering essential local political reforms. However, his stance remains consistent on one critical point: without French intervention, Mali could have descended into chaos. He previously stated unequivocally, “Without France, Mali would no longer be a united state.”
This truth appears to be resurfacing with brutal force today. The ground realities ignore slogans and political posturing. With French bases vacated, a stark security vacuum emerged. Groups aligned with Al-Qaeda and the Islamic State swiftly moved to exploit these vulnerabilities. Where Operation Barkhane once contained, monitored, engaged, and gathered intelligence, Malian authorities now struggle to maintain lasting control over their territory.
Behind these developments lies a memory that demands respect and acknowledgment.
Fifty-eight French soldiers perished in the Sahel.
Fifty-eight individuals fell in a conflict that was neither abstract nor theoretical. They died in Kidal, within the Adrar des Ifoghas, in In Delimane, on roads riddled with improvised explosive devices, during nighttime operations, under oppressive temperatures, facing an elusive, mobile adversary.
These soldiers were not occupiers. They were not colonial predators disguised in militant fiction. They served as instruments of a military commitment undertaken by France to prevent the establishment of a terrorist sanctuary at the heart of the Sahel. They paid the ultimate price. Their sacrifice mandates at least one imperative: their memory must not be dissolved by ideological simplifications.
Indeed, France made errors. Yet, for years, it also bore, almost single-handedly, a colossal military effort to preserve an already precarious regional balance. Mali chose to dismantle this security framework in the name of proclaimed independence. It is now grappling with the profound consequences of that decision.
Emmanuel Macron, in stating that Bamako had not made “the best decision,” was not expressing post-colonial resentment or sentimental regret. He was simply observing what reality now confirms with unforgiving cruelty: in certain parts of the world, declared sovereignty alone is insufficient to halt advancing jihadist columns. The Sahel became a theater of diplomatic attrition for France. But for French soldiers, it remains something more profound: a field of honor. And that honor is not subject to the shifting winds of public opinion.
