Mali fuel blockade: a year on, JNIM strangles the economy and exposes the junta’s weakness

It has now been a full year since the jihadist group JNIM imposed a blockade on fuel convoys heading to Mali, turning the country’s supply routes into a battlefield. In Bamako and towns across the interior, the resulting shortages have driven up transport costs, disrupted electricity supply, halted businesses and hampered essential services. Twelve months later, this strategy of economic strangulation has laid bare a critical vulnerability in the military government: its failure to secure the nation’s lifelines.

Economic warfare, not just a roadblock

On 7 September 2025, Abou Houzeïfa Bina Diarra appeared in a video to announce a ban on the transport of fuel into Mali from several neighbouring countries, including Sénégal, Côte d’Ivoire and Guinée. At the same time, the activities of Diarra Transport came under attack.

At first, the incidents could have been dismissed as isolated events. Malian authorities spoke of accidents and rain-related travel difficulties. But within days, the truth became impossible to conceal.

On 14 September, JNIM, which is affiliated with Al-Qaïda, attacked a major convoy of tanker trucks on the Kayes-Bamako road. Further attacks followed on other key commercial highways. An investigation by Bellingcat had already documented, by autumn 2025, over 130 tankers destroyed in several verified attacks.

The choice of targets was far from random. Mali is landlocked and heavily dependent on fuel imports delivered by road. The corridors linking Bamako to the ports and borders of Sénégal and Côte d’Ivoire are therefore a true economic artery for the nation.

JNIM did not simply aim to burn trucks. It understood that by attacking fuel supplies, it could hit nearly every sector of the economy.

Fuel becomes the nerve of the crisis

In Bamako, the first effects appeared at petrol stations. Endless queues, closed stations and rationing gradually became the norm in the capital, which faced an unprecedented fuel shortage.

By autumn 2025, prices for available fuel on some black markets had soared, while transport costs rose. Reuters reported long queues in the capital, with shortages also noted in Ségou, Mopti and San.

The mechanism is simple: when a tanker truck cannot move, dozens of other activities slow down. Taxis and intercity buses raise fares or cut back on routes. Goods become costlier to transport. Merchants pass on the extra costs, and households see their purchasing power shrink.

Fuel becomes far more than just a motoring expense; it turns into a component of the price of nearly everything.

The electricity sector was also hit. Because it relies heavily on fuel, supply disruptions are particularly damaging. A Bellingcat analysis, using satellite imagery, observed a noticeable reduction in nighttime lighting across Bamako during the crisis.

From schools to hospitals, all of society pays the price

The economic impact went beyond businesses.

Schools and universities were disrupted, sometimes closing altogether. With transport difficult, pupils, students and teachers could no longer travel normally.

The health sector suffered too. Médecins Sans Frontières reported that fuel shortages complicated patient travel, limited power supply to medical facilities, and made evacuations slower and more expensive. At the Point G hospital in Bamako, the organisation noted a 15% drop in consultations for its breast and cervical cancer treatment programme.

In towns in the interior, the situation is even more worrying. Bla, San and Mopti do not have the same capacity to absorb shocks as the capital. When supplies dwindle, the consequences can quickly become systemic: generators stop, transport is reduced, shops slow down and public services are disrupted.

In other words, the blockade turns a military operation into a social crisis.

A strategic humiliation for the junta

For JNIM, this strategy has a major advantage: it can strike the government without having to seize Bamako.

The group goes after what keeps the capital running. It does not need to physically control every petrol station; it simply has to make the roads dangerous enough to deter truckers.

That is precisely why this campaign is so embarrassing for the junta led by Assimi Goïta.

Since taking power, the military regime has made sovereignty and territorial reconquest the heart of its rhetoric. It broke with several Western partners, ended the MINUSMA mission, and strengthened its partnership with Russia. But the fuel crisis raises a much more concrete question: what is the point of this security strategy if the state cannot even guarantee the passage of a fuel tanker to its own capital?

Army-escorted convoys have indeed managed to reach Bamako, and some arrivals were even celebrated as victories. But the very fact that a hundred tankers arriving can become a national event says a great deal about the scale of the crisis.

Propaganda may present each convoy’s arrival as a show of force. Economically, though, it is also an admission of vulnerability: routine replenishment has become a military operation.

On 25 April, the security crisis reaches the heart of the regime

The fuel crisis alone obviously does not explain the attacks of 25 April 2026. But their political impact was immense.

On that day, coordinated attacks struck several towns and military positions, including Kati, Bamako, Mopti, Gao and Kidal. General Sadio Camara, the defence minister, was fatally wounded in the attack on his residence in Kati. His death was officially confirmed by the Malian government.

The event was a shock to a regime whose legitimacy rests largely on its ability to restore security.

A few months earlier, the government had to mobilise military escorts to protect fuel convoys. In April, it was the very heart of its security apparatus that came under direct attack.

The symbolism is hard to ignore: while the junta promised to retake control of the territory, armed groups showed they could disrupt commercial routes, choke the economy, and reach centres of power right on Bamako’s doorstep.

One year on, the economy remains hostage to insecurity

The most recent reported attack on fuel convoys, on 2 September 2026 between Fana and Ségou, is a reminder that the crisis is far from over. Tankers were said to have been set ablaze and soldiers killed.

According to assessments published in 2026, more than 300 tankers have been destroyed since the campaign began.

However, these figures must be treated with caution: access to the ground is limited, and information coming from parties to the conflict is difficult to verify independently. This opacity has itself become a problem.

Because behind the numbers lies a much simpler reality: an entire country cannot function normally when its main supply routes become war zones.

JNIM has succeeded in turning Mali’s geographic weakness—its landlocked status—into a strategic weapon. The junta, for its part, struggles to show it has a lasting answer to this threat.

Conclusion: securing the economy becomes a battle

One year after the blockade began, fuel has become one of the best barometers of Mali’s crisis. Every fuel truck that reaches Bamako testifies both to the state’s capacity to respond and to its failure to secure the roads for the long term.

JNIM has grasped a fundamental truth: you do not need to conquer a capital to destabilise a regime. Sometimes cutting off its supplies is enough.

For the junta, the challenge therefore goes far beyond counterterrorism. The task now is to restore freedom of movement, protect economic infrastructure, and rebuild the confidence of transporters, businesses and the population.

And it is precisely here that its sovereignty rhetoric faces its harshest test: a state is sovereign when it can secure its roads, feed its economy and guarantee essential services to its people. One year after the blockade began, Mali is still far from that point.