The Malian Coup D’etat
On March 21st, I spent the day working with a midwife at a rural health clinic in a tiny Mal
ian village. I was studying abroad with a program focused on public health and development and had been for three months. That evening, a fellow American student stationed at a clinic in the capital Bamako called me to say there had been a coup d’état. Angry over the government’s management of the ongoing separatist rebellion in the north, lower-level soldiers, led by Captain Amadou Hoya Sanogo, had taken control of the government, suspended the constitution, and closed all airports and borders. President Amadou Toumani Touré (or ATT), in his second and final term, fled into hiding. Thus began Mali’s tragic degeneration from one of the most politically and socially stable countries in Africa into the world’s fastest failing state. At the time, presidential elections were a mere three weeks away.
Following the coup, Sanogo and his posse of mutinous officers set up the National Committee for the Restoration of the Malian State (CNRDR) to rule the country. Its express purpose was to reestablish control over the northern areas lost to rebels. The rebellion supposedly at the heart of the coup d’état had begun as another in a series of Tuareg rebellions. The Tuareg are a traditionally nomadic and tribal ethnic group native to the desert region spread over northern Mali, Niger, Algeria, and Libya. Victims of arbitrary colonial borders, they have repeatedly attempted to establish their own nation-state for the past century. This most recent rebellion was sparked by civil war in Libya, a longtime haven of Tuareg groups under Gaddafi. Gaddafi’s fall prompted the return to northern Mali of Tuareg factions who had not taken part in the most recent disarmament and peace agreements. Many had served in Gaddafi’s forces and returned with powerful artillery that gave new potency to the aspirations of groups such as the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA).
Unsurprisingly, members of the international community, including the United States, immediately condemned the coup d’état and cut off all foreign aid. The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), of which Mali is a member, quickly closed its borders with Mali. ECOWAS threatened severe sanctions without a return to civilian rule, a dangerous prospect for a poor landlocked country that imports significant amounts of food and fuel.
Ultimately, the coup d’état proved to be the most counterproductive anti-rebellion measure. The rebels capitalized on post-coup governmental confusion and a massive withdrawal of already underequipped Malian military personnel towards Bamako. Rebels launched an offensive, forcing the retreat of the remaining Malian army. In the two weeks following the coup prior to my evacuation, I watched as the news reported progressively more territory lost to rebels. On the day I arrived home, Tuareg rebels declared the Independent State of Azawad. Its borders include 60% of Mali’s overall territory, an area the size of Texas.
Most worrisome of all, a medley of Islamist terrorist groups operating out of the ungovernable desert in recent years has co-opted the rebellion. These groups notably include Al-Qaeda of the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and Ansar Dine, both of whom engage in drug and weapons smuggling and have also claimed responsibility for past kidnappings and killings of Westerners in the far north. Originally complementing Tuareg military successes, these groups have edged out Tuareg secular rule in many areas of the North and set up Islamist mini-states. Hundreds of thousands have already fled the harsh application of sharia in northern Mali, including public beatings and the amputation of a suspected thief’s hand. Refugees indicate that these areas under Islamist control have attracted like-minded jihadists from around the world. As such, northern Mali has recently been labeled an “African Afghanistan.”
A former French colony, Mali is a Muslim majority country and the largest state in West Africa. Landlocked, its northern half includes the heart of the Sahara Desert, and it is largely uninhabitable but for small towns and the fabled city of Timbuktu. Most of Mali’s 14.5 million inhabitants live in the southern Sahel region. One million alone live in the capital of Bamako, which is the fastest growing city on the continent and where I spent the majority of my time. Despite a rich history of prosperous empires, today Mali is one of the poorest countries on earth, and most Malians eke out their living as subsistence farmers. In 2011, Mali stood 175th on the development index out of 185 countries (ranking below even Afghanistan).
In spite of this unbelievable poverty, Mali impressively managed to establish democracy back in 1992. Long before the Arab Spring, a mass movement for democracy initiated by students challenged the regime of then dictator Moussa Traoré. Thousands of Malians in increasing numbers marched nonviolently for democratic reforms even as the regime met the protesters with violence. ATT, then a colonel, arrested Traoré and made preparations for the elections of 1992, in which Alpha Oumar Konaté became Mali’s first democratically-elected leader. He ultimately served two five-year terms before ATT was elected in 2002. Though corruption was an issue, Mali remained a model in the region.
A year ago, I had begged my parents to let me study abroad in Mali. My family joked that I only wanted to go to Mali because we share the same name. What else could possibly make me want to spend my semester abroad in an impoverished developing country where tropical diseases such as malaria are very real risks—not to mention the on-again, off-again (but recently on-again) rebellion in the north? The truth was, the program had everything I was looking for in a study abroad. Immerse myself while living with a host family? Check. Conduct my own field research? Check. Witness a bit of history as a key African democratic hopeful was set to hold its presidential elections in April? For me, check plus. Or so I’d thought.
Most tragically, recent developments in Mali are completely countercultural. Overall, Mali has an amazingly tolerant and peaceful society that is never mentioned in news reports. Malians are loath to the idea of the break up of their country because they take immense pride in their identity and culture that cuts across ethnic and religious lines. Despite a 90% Muslim population, Christian and animist minorities integrate easily. My own Muslim host family lamented that my evacuation prevented my joining them for their Catholic friends’ much anticipated annual Easter party. Mali’s brand of Islam is neither militant nor fundamental, but more easygoing as it has absorbed local and Sufi traditions. Islamists reject these as heretical and have begun to wage war against these deeply rooted cultural institutions. Shocking the population, AQIM jihadists in Timbuktu have destroyed numerous ancient mosques and tombs, including several world heritage sites, with the sole purpose of dispelling “un-Islamic” local and Sufi myths about these shrines.
The two weeks I spent in Mali after the coup were indeed surreal—certainly not the period of history I had been expecting to witness. Returning to Bamako, my daily life there seemed eerily unchanged with the exception of a military-imposed curfew. I struggled to make sense of all that was happening as it became hard to distinguish uneducated rumors from rumormongers and military propaganda from the truth in the absence of reliable local news media. I heard every opinion imaginable on both the good or ill of the coup, rebels, ATT, and even a rap song praising Captain Sanogo. Falling terribly ill while having to make evacuation preparations knowing that sanctions could choke Mali of its supply of jet fuel was not the most pleasant experience.
Since I left Mali, the situation has only worsened. After a brief period of ECOWAS sanctions (but continued blockages of foreign aid), an interim civilian government formed. Yet a terrible humanitarian crisis looms in the north as security and human rights, especially those of women, deteriorate. Both ECOWAS and the Pentagon have considered military intervention options. However, the severe beating of the interim president by a mob in May, a violent counter-coup attempt in July, the expansion of terrorist control, and continued CNRDR involvement in politics all hinder progress towards national elections and prospects for successful interventions. Mali will take untold years to recover from the coup d’état, and it will never again be the political paragon it once was.
In spite of everything, I am incredibly grateful for my time in Mali. It was the most profound experience of my life. I fell in love with this amazing country and people that welcomed me as one of their own. Bearing witness to the coup serves as a constant reminder to never take the privilege and genuine democracy we have in the U.S. for granted. What was only a tumultuous semester abroad for me remains the everyday reality for far too much of the rest of the world.