Latest news with #Jama'atNusratal-Islamwal-Muslimin
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Politics
- Yahoo
With Security Unraveling, Burkina Faso's Traore Is Getting Desperate
In early May, Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, or JNIM, launched a series of large-scale, coordinated attacks in the north and east of Burkina Faso, highlighting the deteriorating security situation in the country since Capt. Ibrahim Traore seized power in a coup in September 2022. Traore opted for a militarized approach to the Islamist insurgency that has bedeviled Burkina Faso since 2015, believing he could drive JNIM back by force alone. But his counterinsurgency strategy has only deepened the crisis and fueled ethnic hatred, even as he has begun to repress all critical voices and anyone he perceives as a threat—including within the army—to an unprecedented level. The focus of JNIM's most recent attacks was Djibo, the major city in northern Burkina Faso that is home to 300,000, many of them internally displaced people from nearby villages. For the past several years, the city has been under a blockade by the al-Qaida-affiliated group, which controls the surrounding countryside. On May 11, motorcycle-riding assailants overwhelmed government security forces, seizing the city's military camp and looting numerous weapons stored there, including pickup trucks mounted with machine guns. They also targeted the Volunteers for the Defense of the Homeland, or VDP, a state-backed pro-government militia, with at least a hundred people reportedly killed in total. Simultaneously, JNIM attacked other nearby locations, and the following day the group struck in the east of the country, where it briefly occupied the town of Diapaga. Though present in all three countries of the central Sahel—Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger—JNIM sees Burkina Faso as the 'weak link' and has concentrated its efforts there. As such, it has controlled large swathes of Burkinabe territory for years, particularly in the north and east, with just one-third of the national territory estimated to be under government control. But until now, the group had largely adopted a guerrilla warfare approach, operating in rural areas that the state and army struggle to administer. These most recent attacks on urban centers are alarming both for their unprecedented scale and for potentially signaling a shift in the group's strategy. 'If the Burkinabe authorities fail to regain the initiative against JNIM, we may unfortunately see some secondary cities fall under its control,' says Mathieu Pellerin, Sahel analyst at the International Crisis Group. To get more in-depth news and expert analysis on global affairs from WPR, sign up for our free Daily Review newsletter. Tanguy Quidelleur, a researcher at the Sorbonne University, is similarly concerned about JNIM tightening its presence around the capital, Ouagadougou, and the country's second-largest city, Bobo-Dioulasso. But although the group appears to be on the offensive and seizing the initiative, Quidelleur is not convinced it has the ambition and the capacity to hold cities, due to its roots as a rural insurgency. 'Taking a city means handling public services like water and electricity, which is complex,' he explains. 'They lack the administrative or political structures to manage urban zones unless they co-opt others.' Whether or not that is the case, Traore's handling of the security situation since seizing power has played into JNIM's hands. First, he abandoned the community dialogue initiatives pursued by previous governments, which aimed to demobilize some of the insurgents, in favor of an exclusively military approach. But, as Pellerin pointed out, 'a military solution alone cannot solve a problem rooted in a sociopolitical and socioeconomic context that drives many citizens to take up arms.' Worse still, Traore is relying on an army that is incapable of delivering results, in part due to severe logistical weaknesses. When units are attacked, reinforcements arrive late, if at all, and ground troops lack air support. Meanwhile, JNIM strengthens its position by looting substantial war spoils, including weapons, ammunition and vehicles, as in Djibo. Besides its disastrous results on the ground, Traore's strategy has further undermined security by increasing civilian exposure to jihadist attacks. While civilians have been vulnerable since the beginning of the conflict, that increased with the creation of the VDP in 2020 and even more so with the militia's nationwide expansion under Traore. As Quidelleur explained, 'Jihadists are increasingly targeting civilians, whom they accuse of supplying men to the VDP.' Both the Burkinabe and the VDP are also guilty of serious abuses against civilians that disproportionately target the Fulani ethnic group from which JNIM recruits a large portion of its fighters. The most recent massacre took place in March near Solenzo, in the west of the country. According to Human Rights Watch, the army and the VDP killed at least 130 Fulani civilians, including women, the elderly and children. Such massacres fuel the vicious cycle of conflict by pushing young Fulani men to join JNIM to protect themselves and take revenge against the state. In short, civilians are caught between jihadists and state forces supported by the VDP, forcing more and more people to flee their villages. Today, there are an estimated 3 million internally displaced people in a country with a population of about 23 million, resulting in a catastrophic humanitarian situation. A Burkinabe analyst who spoke on the condition of anonymity is deeply concerned about the broader societal impact of the war, particularly with regard to the demonization of the Fulani as terrorists. 'The discourse is becoming more uninhibited, with increasing calls for massacres,' this person said. 'Those who commit abuses film themselves eagerly, post on social media, and no one is shocked.' War, the analyst added, is transforming Burkinabe society, making it 'more violent,' even as 'ethnic hatred is growing.' The military collapse is also fueling discontent within the armed forces, with many officers reportedly at odds with how Traore is handling the war. Some observers believe another coup is possible, and the government seems to agree. On April 21, it denounced a 'major conspiracy' and arrested several officers. The army is fractured, and Traore is aware of it. Upon taking power, he restructured the armed forces and created Rapid Intervention Battalions, or BIR, to fight JNIM—but also to prevent a coup. And in October 2023, he dismissed the chief of staff of the gendarmerie, Lt. Col. Evrard Somda, who was then arrested in January 2024. 'Traore believed Somda posed a threat to him because he is a highly competent and respected officer, and the gendarmerie is a well-trained, effective and sizable force,' notes the Burkinabe analyst. 'The question now,' says Pellerin, 'is: Who among the BIR and other 'secret' units that Traoré created remain loyal to him? It's hard to know for sure, but recent arrests and instances of orders being refused suggest his control of the very apparatus he built is challenged.' Fearing another coup, Traore is now cracking down on any form of opposition or perceived threat to an extent never seen in Burkina Faso. Numerous politicians, journalists and human rights defenders have been imprisoned. Some have even been conscripted by the army as a form of punishment and humiliation, including Ablasse Ouedraogo, a former foreign minister who was forcibly enlisted despite being 70 years old. But the repression is now even targeting high-ranking regime figures. Several judges were conscripted in August 2024 after initiating legal proceedings against Traore supporters. And in an almost unthinkable move, the brother of the Mogho Naba—the king of the Mossi people, a traditional authority who plays a significant role in the country—was abducted on April 30, just days after the government claimed to have foiled a coup attempt. Reportedly, Traore had asked the Mogho Naba to mediate—a role he often assumes in such situations—but the king refused. The security minister accused traditional leaders of being involved in the coup plot. 'Many safeguards have been dismantled,' said the Burkinabe analyst, expressing grave concern. 'If judges, a chief of staff and the brother of the Mogho Naba can be arrested, it means no one is safe. And there's no one left to oppose Traore.' In short, the more pressure JNIM applies, the more divisions within the junta and Burkinabe society deepen—and the more Traore lashes out at anyone perceived as a threat. There is little hope for improvement as long as Traore remains in power. Tangi Bihan is a journalist based in Guinea, where he is a correspondent for Radio France Internationale (RFI). He writes also for Afrique XXI and Le Monde diplomatique. The post With Security Unraveling, Burkina Faso's Traore Is Getting Desperate appeared first on World Politics Review.
Business Insider
15-05-2025
- Politics
- Business Insider
Al Qaeda-linked group claims deadly attack on Burkina Faso troops
An al-Qaeda affiliate, Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), has claimed responsibility for a deadly attack on a military outpost in Burkina Faso's northern Loroum province, in which the group said it killed 60 soldiers, according to the SITE Intelligence Group. An al-Qaeda affiliate, Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), has claimed responsibility for a deadly attack on a military outpost in Burkina Faso's northern Loroum province. In 2023 alone, more than 8,000 people were killed in Burkina Faso due to violence in the country. An army base in Djibo also came under heavy attack early Sunday, with militants also targeting a local police station and market. An al-Qaeda affiliate, Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM), has claimed responsibility for a deadly attack on a military outpost in Burkina Faso's northern Loroum province, in which the group said it killed 60 soldiers, according to the SITE Intelligence Group. The recent wave of attacks shows the ongoing struggle that Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger, each governed by military-led administrations, face in tackling extremist insurgencies. Burkina Faso's junta leader, Ibrahim Traoré, who has captured the support of many Africans, particularly the youth, rose to power in a 2022 coup, pledging to push back against the jihadist insurgency that has gripped the region since it first erupted in Mali over a decade ago. But despite his promises, no significant progress has been made. In 2023 alone, more than 8,000 people were killed in Burkina Faso due to violence in the country. And around 2.6 million people across Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger are currently displaced. Ongoing attacks and mounting casualties According to the SITE Intelligence Group, the deadliest attack took place in the town of Solle, where militants from al-Qaeda-linked Jama'a Nusrat ul-Islam wa al-Muslimin (JNIM) stormed a military base and killed dozens of soldiers. In a separate incident, SITE reported that 10 members of the pro-government Volunteers for the Defence of the Homeland (VDP) militia were killed in Gnagna province, in eastern Burkina Faso. An army base in Djibo also came under heavy attack early Sunday, with militants also targeting a local police station and market. The Djibo base has come under attack multiple times, including in October 2022, when 10 soldiers were killed and 50 wounded.
Washington Post
19-02-2025
- Washington Post
The Islamist militant
As Africa's Sahel region has replaced the Middle East as the epicenter of jihadism, young men are flocking to the cause. They don't always like what they find. NIAMEY, Niger — As Islamist extremist groups have wrested large swaths of territory from government control in the Sahel, young men have streamed into their ranks, often compelled more by economic desperation than ideology. Ibrahim, a soft-spoken Nigerien in his 20s, joined the local al-Qaeda affiliate after bandits sacked his village, leaving him with few prospects, and the sense of adventure and fellowship he found among the militants helped keep him fighting by their side, even as he grew increasingly troubled by the group's brutality. 'In the army, if there is a battle and soldiers win, then they are happy. It was like that for us,' he said. 'I was with my friends, and it was joy.' Ibrahim was relaxing with his comrades over mint tea when he was summoned to his first mission. A messenger had arrived on motorcycle with an order from their commander. Trucks hauling cargo considered 'haram,' or forbidden by Islamic law, had been spotted. They had to be intercepted. Story continues below advertisement Advertisement Ibrahim, then 25, recalled rushing to grab his Kalashnikov rifle and keys for the Toyota pickup. Other fighters piled in. Behind the wheel, he followed another pickup and two motorcycles, racing along desert backroads in Mali's Timbuktu region and stopping only when he saw about half a dozen white trucks on the horizon. Three gunmen descended from his truck and opened fire. He was so nervous that his hands would not stop trembling. He figured death was imminent. But the drivers surrendered, and Ibrahim was instructed to take them to a bigger road where they could hitchhike to safety. Senior fighters looted the cargo. Over the following two years, Ibrahim would grow even more active in Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, or the Group for the Support of Islam and Muslims. But as he got in deeper, the group's savagery and lethal competition with fellow jihadists in the rival Islamic State affiliate would leave him torn about whether to remain or defect. Ibrahim, left, reads religious texts with a friend who said he was in the Islamic State affiliate. Ibrahim's religious beliefs hardened after he joined Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin. Up in flames Islam has been the dominant religion in the Sahel for centuries, brought to the region by traders from North Africa and the Middle East. Some of the countries, like Niger, are nearly entirely Muslim, and the type of Islam practiced in the region is traditionally moderate. Ibrahim grew up at a time when his village, in Niger's far west near its porous borders with Mali and Burkina Faso, was peaceful; its tree-lined streets would come alive at night with music playing on radios. Islamist extremism, however, was beginning to spill into Niger as militants who had first targeted Mali turned their sights on its neighbors. By the mid-2010s, extremists on motorcycles had arrived in Ibrahim's area, ordering locals to turn off their music and women to wear hijabs, or Islamic headscarves. Ibrahim, who spoke on the condition that only his first name be used out of fear for his security, turned to the extremists only after concluding he had few other options. A year before he joined them, the bandits had raided his village. He had hidden in the elementary school and called a friend in the Nigerien military begging for help. By the time Nigerien soldiers finally responded to Ibrahim's plea, the family's car and his father's general store had been burned. Ibrahim determined there was no longer a way to make a living in the village. He soon packed his bags, left his wife and young son and headed to Mali to seek work in the gold mines. Ibrahim left Niger to seek work in the gold mines in Mali. Underground economy Ibrahim said he hadn't known that some gold mines in Mali's Gao region were partly controlled by Jama'at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin, or JNIM. But when he arrived in 2021, he recognized some of the men carrying Kalashnikovs. He used to play soccer with them around his village. The local leader persuaded Ibrahim that joining the al-Qaeda affiliate would mean more money. The only requirement, he said, was reading the Quran daily. Ibrahim signed on as a driver. He moved in with the group's members next to a mine at Tinaykaren, before shifting a few months later to N'tahaka, a far larger mining site. About 200 JNIM members resided in structures of wood and plastic tarp beside the mines, where they controlled some of the tunnels, Ibrahim recounted. He said a team of six miners could gross up to $3,000 in a good week, though a JNIM leader would take half of the earnings. That leader would at times hand out cash gifts ranging from $150 to $500. Ibrahim bought himself an Android cellphone and sent money home frequently to his family. Ibrahim had always considered himself a religious Muslim, praying five times a day and never touching alcohol, but his beliefs hardened. He came to believe that strict Islamic laws should replace those enacted by governments. He erased French rap music from his phone and downloaded apps to read the Quran and other Muslim writings. If he didn't have time to study the Quran, he said, he'd read a few chapters as he worked in the tunnels, sometimes more than 300 feet underground. Most of their missions, he said, involved handing out Qurans in nearby villages and ensuring that sharia law was being followed. In some places, they collected zakat, or religious taxes. When trucks carrying cargo considered haram passed through their area, the fighters were ordered to intercept them. The strongest fighters carried out attacks against the Malian military and the Islamic State affiliate. Story continues below advertisement Advertisement Opening fire The first time that Ibrahim fired his rifle in anger came shortly after his first mission. His team had set up a checkpoint on the road connecting the city of Gao with the Malian capital, Bamako. As a small convoy of trucks came across the horizon and approached, Ibrahim and his fellow fighters opened fire. This time, the trucks didn't stop. Ibrahim felt his body jerk backward as he repeatedly discharged his rifle. He saw the first truck topple over after the driver was hit. Then the drivers of the second and third trucks were struck, slumping forward in their seats. When the shooting stopped, the team's leaders instructed the fighters to burn the trucks and bury the victims. Ibrahim said he believes there were four. He recited brief prayers over the bodies. Ibrahim, center, with two friends in Niamey. Ibrahim with his friends. Turning on each other Sometime later, militants from the local Islamic State affiliate carried out an ambush against Ibrahim's fellow fighters in JNIM. When word got back, Ibrahim and dozens of others rushed to grab their guns. He jumped into the Toyota pickup and raced to the battle site, this time along with two other trucks and about 40 motorcycles. Ibrahim focused on firing his rifle and saw men on the other side fall. Then he heard a scream. Behind a dune less than two dozen feet away, one of his comrades had been shot in the head and stomach. Ibrahim kept firing, later comparing the fighters to soccer players who cannot stop for an injured teammate. The battle ended after less than an hour. The JNIM team buried five of its members, and estimated they had killed 15 men on the other side. The fighting troubled Ibrahim. Both sides said their cause was Islam, to install God's law. They should have been targeting the nonbelievers in the military and the government. Instead, they were killing each other. 'Together,' he lamented, 'we would have been invincible.' Story continues below advertisement Advertisement An execution Ibrahim was patrolling with his team outside a village one day when his commander spotted a woman collecting wood for cooking without a hijab to cover her hair. They had seen the same woman a few weeks before, Ibrahim said, and had given her a warning and money for a hijab. But she had not listened. His commander pulled out his gun. Ibrahim and a few other team members pleaded with him to reconsider. The woman screamed and cried, pleading for her life and another chance. The commander pulled the trigger. Afterward, Ibrahim said, he could not sleep. He said he knew that the Quran forbids hurting women and children. He thought of his own sisters and mother, who didn't always wear their hijabs. Within a month, he would get a call from a family friend urging him to come back to Niger. Ibrahim eventually returned to Niger. Temptation returns One afternoon, Ibrahim and a half-dozen others who had defected from the militants gathered in a house on the outskirts of Niamey. They took turns playing voice messages they still received from friends in Islamist militant groups. 'Come back,' said one JNIM member. 'Why are you wasting your time?' Ibrahim had returned to Niger after hearing about a program that aimed to reintegrate former fighters into society. But funding soon ran short. Plans to train and integrate the men grew unclear. Jobless, the men could afford to eat just one meal a day. Ibrahim said dozens of men who had been part of the program left, and he suspected many were back with JNIM. Ibrahim was tempted to join them. As the sun set on a warm night, he took a drag on a cigarette and said he had tried to have patience. Then he shrugged. 'But patience has its limits.'
