Regardless of radical shifts in leadership and geopolitical alliances, Niamey remains locked in a grinding war. From Mahamadou Issoufou’s Western-oriented strategy to Abdourahamane Tiani’s break for sovereignty, the harsh reality persists: the terrorist threat on the ground has not receded.

Three presidents, two democratic transitions, a coup, and one constant: bloodshed

Over the years, Niger has seen three presidents, two peaceful transfers of power, and a military takeover. Yet through it all, the blood continues to flow in the “three borders” zone and the Lake Chad basin. Regimes come and go, but the jihadist hydra—embodied by the Islamic State in the Greater Sahara (ISGS) and the Support Group for Islam and Muslims (JNIM)—remains firmly entrenched.

When the National Council for the Safeguard of the Homeland (CNSP) seized power in July 2023, it vowed to restore security by expelling Western partners. Now, the country faces a brutal reality check. The time has come to take stock of a war that, so far, appears unwinnable.

The Issoufou-Bazoum era: the illusion of a Western shield

Under President Mahamadou Issoufou (2011–2021), Niger positioned itself as the cornerstone of Western strategy in the Sahel. As neighboring Mali’s state authority crumbled, Niamey became the military hub for France (Operation Barkhane) and the United States (the drone base in Agadez).

His successor, Mohamed Bazoum, tried to add a layer of political flexibility:

• An outstretched hand: initiating dialogues with some repentant fighters.
• Major investment: bolstering the training of Nigerien special forces.

The flip side: while this approach kept the country from collapsing, it never succeeded in eliminating the threat. Worse, the presence of foreign troops fueled deep frustration within parts of the army and the population, who saw it as a loss of sovereignty for results deemed insufficient.

Tiani’s gamble: sovereignty meets the reality of bullets

When General Abdourahamane Tiani and the CNSP overthrew Mohamed Bazoum on July 26, 2023, they justified the coup by citing “the continued deterioration of the security situation.” What followed is well known: a dramatic break with Paris and Washington, the creation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES) alongside Mali and Burkina Faso, and a strategic pivot toward Russia (via the Africa Corps) and Turkey.

On the communication front, the change has been stark. The military leadership extols national pride and promises a purely military response, free from what it calls the West’s “hidden agendas.”

The harsh truth on the ground

Yet reports from UN observers and strategic studies centers agree: the departure of Western forces left an immediate capability gap, especially in aerial intelligence and technological surveillance.

Complex attacks have multiplied, sometimes targeting entire Nigerien defense and security forces (FDS) garrisons and causing heavy losses. The subsequent economic blockade in some regions and diplomatic isolation have hampered the logistics and funding of a war that costs millions of dollars each day.

Why is Niger stuck in this deadlock?

The common mistake of successive regimes—whether civilian or military—lies in treating what is primarily a political and social crisis as a purely military one. Two broad visions have both hit a wall:

On one side, the Issoufou-Bazoum doctrine bet everything on integration into the international security architecture. Its main weakness: excessive external dependence, disconnected from popular aspirations, which made the French narrative unheard by large segments of Nigerien opinion.

On the other side, the Tiani doctrine prioritizes a total geopolitical rupture and a martial sovereignty embodied by the AES. The limits of this formula are already visible: an immediate loss of advanced technological intelligence, suffocating financial isolation, and, paradoxically, an escalation of violence by armed groups exploiting regional disarray.

In both cases, the root causes remain unchanged: the state’s absence from peripheral areas, a lack of economic prospects for rural youth, and intercommunity conflicts (especially between herders and farmers) that jihadist groups skillfully exploit for recruitment.

Whether waged to the tune of international cooperation or under the banners of AES sovereignty, the war in Niger cannot be won by arms alone. For General Tiani, the challenge is no longer just about criticizing his predecessors’ record—it’s about proving that the current military formula can protect Nigeriens. Without a massive reintroduction of public services (schools, justice, health clinics) into insecure zones, Niger risks watching this war, indeed, be lost over the long term.