In Bamako, the fuel blockade one year on: Mali’s economy held hostage

Since September 2025, the JNIM’s blockade of fuel convoys has turned Mali’s supply routes into veritable front lines. In Bamako and in cities upcountry, the shortage has driven up transport costs, disrupted electricity, paralyzed economic activities, and affected essential services. One year on, this strategy of economic asphyxiation has exposed a major weakness of the military government: its difficulty in securing the country’s vital arteries.

An economic weapon rather than a simple road blockade

On 7 September 2025, Abou Houzeïfa Bina Diarra appeared to announce the ban on transporting fuel to Mali from several neighboring countries, notably Senegal, Côte d’Ivoire, and Guinea. At the same time, the activities of Diarra Transport were targeted.

The first incidents could have been dismissed as isolated events. Malian authorities then spoke of accidents and traffic difficulties linked to the rains. But within days, the reality became hard to conceal.

On 14 September, the JNIM, an Al-Qaeda affiliate, attacked a large convoy of tankers on the Kayes-Bamako axis. The attacks then multiplied on the main trade routes. An investigation by Bellingcat had already documented, in the autumn of 2025, more than 130 tankers destroyed in several verified attacks.

The choice of targets is far from trivial. Mali is a landlocked country and heavily dependent on fuel imports brought in by road. The axes linking Bamako to the Senegalese and Ivorian ports and borders thus constitute a true national economic artery.

The JNIM has not merely tried to burn trucks. It understood that by attacking fuel, it could affect almost every sector of the economy.

Fuel becomes the nerve of the crisis

In Bamako, the first consequences appeared at petrol stations. Endless queues, stations closed or rationing: the capital gradually faced an unusual shortage.

In the autumn of 2025, the price of fuel available on certain markets soared, while transport became more expensive. Reuters reported long queues in the capital and shortages also reported in Ségou, Mopti, and San.

The mechanics are simple: when a fuel tanker can no longer circulate, dozens of other activities slow down. Taxis and intercity transport raise their fares or cut rotations. Goods become costlier to transport. Merchants pass on the extra costs. Households see their purchasing power decline.

Fuel thus becomes much more than a car expense: it becomes a component of the price of almost everything.

The situation also affected electricity. The energy sector’s dependence on fuel makes supply disruptions particularly sensitive. A Bellingcat analysis, using satellite imagery, observed a decrease in nighttime lighting in Bamako during the crisis.

From schools to hospitals, the whole society pays the price

The economic effect was not limited to businesses.

Schools and universities were disrupted, sometimes closed for periods. With transport difficult, pupils, students, and teachers could no longer move around normally.

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

In cities upcountry, the situation is even more worrying. Bla, San, or Mopti do not have the same absorption capacity as the capital. When supplies run low, the consequences can quickly become systemic: generators stopped, transport reduced, businesses slowed, and public services disrupted.

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

A strategic humiliation for the junta

For the JNIM, this strategy has a considerable advantage: it allows striking the government without needing to capture Bamako.

The group attacks what makes the capital function. It does not need to physically control each petrol station. It is enough to make the roads dangerous enough to dissuade transporters.

That is precisely what makes this campaign especially embarrassing for Assimi Goïta’s junta.

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

Convoys escorted by the army have indeed managed to reach Bamako. Some arrivals were even celebrated as victories. But the mere fact that the arrival of a hundred tankers can become a national event says a lot about the scale of the crisis.

Propaganda can present each arrived convoy as a show of force. Economically, it is also an admission of vulnerability: ordinary supply has become a military operation.

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

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

That day, coordinated attacks struck several localities and military positions, notably Kati, Bamako, Mopti, Gao, and Kidal. General Sadio Camara, the Minister of Defence, was mortally wounded in the attack on his residence in Kati. His death was officially confirmed by the Malian government.

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

A few months earlier, the government had already to mobilise military escorts to protect fuel convoys. In April, the very heart of its security apparatus was directly struck.

The symbol is hard to ignore: while the junta promised to take back control of the territory, armed groups demonstrated their ability to disrupt trade routes, asphyxiate the economy, and reach centres of power right up to Bamako’s immediate surroundings.

One year on, the economy remains hostage to insecurity

The last reported attack on fuel convoys, on 2 September 2026 between Fana and Ségou, reminds us that the crisis is far from over. Tankers were reportedly set ablaze again and soldiers killed.

According to evaluations published in 2026, more than 300 tankers have been destroyed since the start of the campaign.

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

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

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

Conclusion: when securing the economy becomes a battle

One year after the start of the blockade, fuel has become one of the best indicators of the Malian crisis. Each fuel tanker that reaches Bamako testifies both to the state’s capacity to react and to its inability to normalise the roads durably.

The JNIM has understood something essential: it is not necessary to conquer a capital to weaken a regime. Sometimes it is enough to cut its supplies.

For the junta, the challenge thus goes far beyond counter-terrorism. It is now about restoring traffic, protecting economic infrastructure, and rebuilding the trust of transporters, businesses, and the population.

Yet it is precisely on this ground that its sovereignty discourse faces the most brutal test: a state is sovereign when it can protect its roads, feed its economy, and guarantee essential services to its population. One year after the start of the blockade, Mali is still far from that.