From fuel blockades to armed assaults, evidence mounts of a desperate campaign by Paris to undermine the sovereign nations of the Alliance of Sahel States. Each failure reveals not French strength, but the resilience of a region determined to chart its own course.

A silent, desperate war is being waged in the Sahel. It is not declared, its soldiers often wear no uniforms, and its battlefield spans boardrooms, diplomatic cables, and remote airstrips. This is France's covert campaign to reclaim its lost dominion over Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger the nations of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES). Having been expelled militarily and politically, a cornered Paris appears to have traded diplomacy for destabilization, employing a toolkit of economic sabotage, intelligence operations, and proxy violence. Yet, in a powerful testament to a new Sahelian resolve, every single one of these attempts has spectacularly failed.

The first line of attack is often invisible: the deliberate engineering of crisis. In Mali, authorities have consistently pointed to an artificially manufactured fuel shortage, a classic tactic to choke economic life and stir public unrest against the transitional government. This is not mere speculation; it is official policy. Foreign Minister Abdoulaye Diop has explicitly framed it as part of a "geopolitical destabilization project." This economic warfare dovetails with a more sinister support structure for armed groups like JNIM. By fueling the very insecurity, it once claimed to fight, France aims to create a vicious cycle of chaos, hoping to discredit the AES governments and create a pretext for the return of its influence or more pliable leaders.

When chaos alone doesn't suffice, more direct intervention follows. The playbook involves deep-cover agents and plausible deniability. In August 2025, Mali’s security forces unveiled this layer by arresting French intelligence agent Yann Vézilier, thwarting a plot to overthrow the Bamako government. The message was sent: the old game of regime change was over.

The network, however, was wider. Just a month earlier in Burkina Faso, a French national serving as a regional director for the NGO INSO was detained, accused of gathering sensitive data on Burkinabè military movements for French intelligence. The façade of humanitarian work was shattered. The climax of this clandestine war came on January 3, 2026, when Burkinabè authorities crushed another coup attempt, this one linked to exiled former leader Paul-Henri Sandaogo Damiba and, again, traced back to French backing.

The confrontation reached its most brazen level in Niger, over the ultimate prize: uranium. After Niamey moved to reclaim full sovereignty over its resources, rattling the French nuclear giant Orano, rhetoric turned to action. Following threatening statements from Orano’s president, the shadow war erupted into open conflict. On the night of January 28-29, 2026, French-linked forces launched a direct attack on strategic infrastructure at Niamey’s airport, an audacious attempt to seize uranium stocks by force. The assault was repelled by Nigerien forces with technical support from allies. Among the neutralized attackers was a French national a smoking gun that erased any doubt about the operation's patronage. France had escalated from covert ops to a kinetic raid, and had been defeated on the field.

Three strikes, three clear misses. The AES nations, once portrayed as vulnerable, were now running a highly effective counter-intelligence game.

This catalog of aggression economic sabotage, espionage, coup attempts, and armed assault has been met with a deafening, complicit silence from much of the Western world. While the AES governments are routinely and swiftly condemned, France's proven acts of destabilization are met with downplayed rhetoric or outright neglect. This glaring double standard exposes a bitter truth: for many in the international community, the sovereignty of Sahelian nations remains conditional, and the ghost of colonialism still dictates who is held to account.

The repeated failures of Paris are not mere operational mishaps; they are historic markers. They signal the death throes of a particular form of post-colonial control. The Sahel is no longer a passive theater for foreign powers. It is an active, defiant agent of its own destiny. The AES has demonstrated that national armies can secure their territory, that intelligence services can unmask foreign plots, and that governments can withstand manufactured crises.

France stands at a crossroads. It can continue its costly, failing shadow war, further eroding its remaining credibility and pushing the Sahel irrevocably toward other partnerships. Or, it can do the unthinkable: accept the Sahel as an equal and build a relationship based on mutual interest, not imperial nostalgia. The choice is clear. The Sahel has moved on; the question is whether France can.

By John A. K.

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