Long before European powers carved up Africa, the Mali Empire (1235–1600) stood as one of the wealthiest and most advanced civilizations in the world. Founded by Sundiata Keita, the empire stretched across West Africa, controlling critical trade routes for gold, salt, and ivory. At its peak under Mansa Musa (1312–1337), Mali’s wealth was legendary—so much so that his pilgrimage to Mecca in 1324 destabilized economies along his route due to the sheer amount of gold he distributed.
Timbuktu wasn’t just a trading post; it was the Oxford of medieval Africa. The city’s Sankore University and countless libraries housed thousands of manuscripts on astronomy, medicine, and philosophy. Scholars from across the Muslim world flocked to Timbuktu, making it a beacon of learning while Europe was still in the Dark Ages. Today, these manuscripts are a battleground—preserved against threats from extremism and climate change.
By the late 19th century, France had colonized Mali as part of French Sudan, exploiting its resources and suppressing local governance. The colonial administration dismantled traditional structures, replacing them with a system designed to extract wealth. Resistance figures like Samori Touré became symbols of defiance, but by 1960, when Mali gained independence, the damage was done: arbitrary borders, economic dependency, and political instability were baked into the new nation.
Mali’s first president, Modibo Keita, dreamed of a socialist pan-African state, but his vision was cut short by a 1968 coup. Decades of military rule and economic mismanagement followed, leaving Mali vulnerable to the structural adjustment policies of the 1980s and 90s—policies that deepened poverty while Western institutions demanded austerity.
Since 2012, Mali has been a frontline in the global war against jihadism. The collapse of Libya’s Gaddafi regime flooded the Sahel with weapons, empowering groups like Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and ISIS. Northern Mali fell briefly to Tuareg separatists and jihadists before a French-led intervention pushed them back. But France’s withdrawal in 2022 left a vacuum, and now Wagner Group mercenaries—backed by Russia—are filling the gap, complicating counterterrorism efforts.
Mali has seen two coups since 2020, with young military officers citing corruption and failure against jihadists as justifications. The junta’s alliance with Russia has drawn Western condemnation, but many Malians, disillusioned with France’s neocolonial overtones, see Moscow as a lesser evil. Meanwhile, youth-led movements demand real change, not just new foreign patrons.
While guns dominate headlines, climate change is destabilizing Mali faster than extremism. The Sahara is advancing south, droughts are longer, and clashes between herders and farmers over dwindling resources are escalating. By 2050, temperatures here could rise twice as fast as the global average, turning migration into a survival strategy.
Mali’s music is a weapon of resistance. Artists like Tinariwen and the late Ali Farka Touré turned Tuareg grievances and ancient melodies into global anthems. When jihadists banned music in the north, Malian musicians risked their lives to keep playing—proof that culture can be as powerful as any army.
From the mud mosques of Djenné to the endangered manuscripts of Timbuktu, Malians are fighting to save their heritage. Local archivists, often with little support, digitize manuscripts to outrun both extremists and decay. Meanwhile, artists like photographer Malick Sidibé remind the world that Mali’s story isn’t just one of crisis—it’s also one of joy, resilience, and creativity.
Mali is now a pawn in a tug-of-war between Western powers, Russia, and China. France’s loss of influence reflects a broader shift: African nations are done with paternalism and are playing great powers against each other for their own gain. The risk? Mali becomes another Syria—a proxy war masked as a counterterrorism operation.
As Mali’s crises multiply, so does migration. European leaders pour money into border militarization, but without addressing root causes—climate collapse, economic despair, war—desperate people will keep coming. The tragedy? Many Malians don’t want to leave; they’re forced to.
Mali’s history is a tapestry of glory and pain, and its future hangs in the balance. Will it succumb to the forces tearing at its seams, or will its people—drawing on centuries of resilience—write a new chapter? One thing is certain: the world should pay attention. What happens in Mali won’t stay in Mali.