Since September 2025, the JNIM’s blockade of fuel convoys has turned Mali’s supply routes into genuine front lines. In Bamako and in cities across the interior, the shortage has driven up transport costs, disrupted electricity, paralysed economic activities, and hampered essential services. A year on, this strategy of economic asphyxiation is above all exposing 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 prohibition of fuel shipments to Mali from several neighbouring 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 cases. Malian authorities at the time spoke of accidents and traffic difficulties linked to the rains. But within days, the reality became hard to hide.

On 14 September, the JNIM, affiliated with Al-Qaïda, attacked a major convoy of tanker trucks on the Kayes-Bamako axis. Attacks then multiplied on the main commercial roads. An investigation by Bellingcat had already documented, by autumn 2025, more than 130 destroyed tankers in several verified attacks.

The choice of targets is far from trivial. Mali is a landlocked country that relies heavily on road-borne fuel imports. The axes linking Bamako to the Senegalese and Ivorian ports and borders therefore constitute a true national economic artery.

The JNIM has not merely sought to burn trucks. It has understood that by striking at fuel, it could affect nearly every sector of the economy.

Fuel becomes the nerve of the crisis

In Bamako, the first consequences were visible at petrol stations. Endless queues, closed stations, or rationing: the capital gradually found itself facing an unusual shortage.

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

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

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

This situation has also affected electricity. The energy sector’s dependence on fuels makes supply disruptions particularly sensitive. A Bellingcat analysis, drawing on satellite imagery, noted a decrease in Bamako’s night-time lighting during the crisis.

From schools to hospitals, the whole society pays the bill

The economic effect was not limited to businesses.

Schools and universities were disrupted, and at times even closed. With transport becoming difficult, pupils, students and teachers could no longer move around normally.

The health sector has also been hit. Médecins sans frontières reported that fuel shortages complicated patient travel, limited the electricity 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 breast and cervical cancer treatment programme.

In interior towns, the situation is even more worrying. Bla, San or Mopti do not have the same absorption capacity as the capital. When supplies become scarce, consequences can quickly become systemic: generators at a standstill, reduced transport, slowed commerce, and disrupted public services.

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 having to take Bamako.

The group attacks what makes the capital function. It does not need to physically control every petrol station. It merely needs to make the roads dangerous enough to deter transporters.

That is precisely what makes this campaign particularly 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 has broken with several western partners, ended the MINUSMA presence, and strengthened its partnership with Russia. But the fuel crisis raises a far more concrete question: what use is this security strategy if the state cannot ensure that a tanker truck reaches its capital?

Army-escorted convoys have indeed managed to reach Bamako. Some arrivals have even been celebrated as victories. But the very fact that the arrival of a hundred tankers can become a national event says much about the scale of the crisis.

Propaganda may present each convoy arriving 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 has been considerable.

On that day, coordinated attacks struck several localities and military positions, including Kati, Bamako, Mopti, Gao and Kidal. General Sadio Camara, the Minister of Defence, was fatally wounded during 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 had to mobilise military escorts to protect fuel convoys. In April, the very heart of its security apparatus was directly struck.

The symbolism is hard to ignore: while the junta promised to retake control of the territory, armed groups demonstrated their capacity to disrupt commercial routes, asphyxiate the economy and reach centres of power in the immediate surroundings of Bamako.

A year on, the economy remains hostage to insecurity

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

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

These figures must be handled with caution: access to the field is limited, and information from the parties to the conflict is difficult to verify independently. This opacity itself has 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.

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

Conclusion: when securing the economy becomes a battle

A year after the start of the blockade, fuel has become one of the best indicators of Mali’s crisis. Every tanker truck that reaches Bamako bears witness both to the state’s capacity to react and to its inability to normalise the roads durably.

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

For the junta, the challenge therefore extends well beyond counter-terrorism. It is now about restoring circulation, protecting economic infrastructure and rebuilding the trust of transporters, businesses and populations.

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