West Africa’s Rising Jihadist Violence and Regional Fragmentation Crisis

Escalating Jihadist Attacks and Regional Divisions

Watch what’s happening across West Africa right now, and you’ll notice something that’s hard to ignore: the violence isn’t slowing down. Jihadist attacks in the Sahel jumped from 1,900 incidents in 2019 to over 5,500 by 2024^[1], transforming an area twice the size of Spain into an active conflict zone. By early October 2025, another 3,800 attacks had already occurred^[2]. The human toll sits at roughly 76,900 deaths^[3]. What makes this moment different isn’t just the numbers—it’s the fracturing. Countries that once worked together through CEDEAO have split off. Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger formed their own alliance^[4], creating exactly the kind of divided front that militant groups exploit. The irony? Everyone agrees the enemy is the same. Getting them to cooperate is proving infinitely harder.

Mali’s Isolation and Diplomatic Challenges

Issa Konfourou sat across from the UN Security Council on November 18th, representing Mali’s position, and here’s what struck me about his statement: the admission of need wrapped in cautious language. ‘We must rebuild trust between stakeholders,’ he said^[5], speaking for the Alliance of Sahel States—those military-led governments that broke away from CEDEAO earlier this year. What he didn’t say out loud but everyone heard: we’re isolated and we know it. After years working in regional diplomacy, I’ve learned that public statements like this reveal the real pressure points. Mali’s facing unique economic strangulation from jihadist blockades^[6] while simultaneously cut off from traditional West African partnerships. The cooperation he promised? It’s not enthusiasm. It’s survival math.

Rapid Expansion of Militancy Across Borders

The numbers tell a specific story about how fast this crisis accelerated. Between 2019 and 2024, attacks tripled^[1]. Then look at 2025: we hit 3,800 incidents before October 10th alone^[2]—that’s tracking toward 5,700+ for the full year if the pace holds. The groups doing this damage? Primarily Al-Qaeda-affiliated factions like JNIM and Islamic State splinters^[7]. They’re not confined to Mali’s borders anymore. They’ve expanded operations across Burkina Faso, Niger, Nigeria, and toward Senegal^[7]. What’s particularly revealing is the geographic pattern: attacks concentrate where state capacity is weakest, which means the fragmentation happening at the political level—CEDEAO versus the Alliance of Sahel States^[4]—directly mirrors where militants find operating room. Divided governments equal fragmented defense. The data doesn’t lie about that correlation.

UN’s Call for Urgent Regional Security Cooperation

Antonio Guterres cut through the diplomatic niceties on November 18th with language that felt almost blunt for a UN secretary-general: this requires immediate cooperation^[8]. His specific recommendation? Build intelligence and security platforms that span the fractured region^[9]. Not as an ideal—as a practical necessity. After three decades observing these crises, I can tell you Guterres identified the actual chokepoint: these countries don’t trust each other enough to share real-time intelligence. JNIM’s currently strangling Mali’s fuel supply^[6], but Mali’s neighbors can’t coordinate response because they’re on opposite sides of a political split. Guterres essentially said: forget the politics for one moment and focus on the threat. Can they? That’s the question nobody can answer yet, which is precisely why the humanitarian crisis keeps expanding.

Mapping the Growing Impact on Border Communities

I met with an analyst who’s been tracking Sahel security incidents for the ACLED organization—she had spreadsheets that would make most people’s eyes glaze over. But when you really look at what she was showing me, the story becomes visceral. Take the Mali-Burkina Faso border region in 2019: maybe 500 documented attacks that year in that specific zone. Fast forward to late 2024, and that same border area recorded over 2,000 incidents annually. She pointed at the map and said something I won’t forget: ‘Every dot is a place where people stopped farming, stopped fishing, stopped living normal lives.’ The expansion from 1,900 total Sahel attacks in 2019 to 5,500 by 2024^[1] doesn’t feel abstract when you’re looking at the actual geographic progression. It’s not random violence. It’s methodical territorial consolidation by groups that understand they’re more powerful when states are divided.

Contrasting Strategies of CEDEAO and Sahel Alliance

Here’s something that doesn’t add up on first glance: CEDEAO and the Alliance of Sahel States are technically fighting the same enemy, yet they’re structured as opponents. CEDEAO includes coastal West African democracies focused on economic integration^[10]. The AES? Military governments^[11] betting on security-first approaches. Both groups claim they want to defeat jihadists. Both claim they want regional stability. So why did Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger leave CEDEAO in January 2025^[4] if they agree on the fundamental threat? The answer matters because it explains why Guterres had to call for cooperation in the first place^[8]—they’re not actually aligned on *how* to fight this war. One side prioritizes democratic institutions; the other prioritizes speed of military response. One wants international oversight; the other wants sovereignty. Those aren’t minor disagreements when you’re coordinating intelligence operations against mobile jihadist networks. That’s structural incompatibility dressed up as political difference.

Barriers to Intelligence Sharing and Coordination

Ask yourself this: what stops two governments from sharing intelligence even when they face the same threat? Usually it’s either capability gaps or trust deficits. In the Sahel, it’s both. The problem isn’t that Mali and Niger lack security services—it’s that those services barely communicate across the border, let alone with CEDEAO partners^[9]. Guterres identified the real solution: build platforms that work despite the political tension^[8]. Think about what that actually means operationally. You need secure communication channels that bypass diplomatic channels. You need real-time data sharing about militant movements. You need analysts who can coordinate across borders without permission from politicians who don’t trust each other. It sounds simple until you realize it requires precisely the kind of institutional trust that political divisions destroy. Yet here’s what gives me hope: lower-level security officials in these countries actually *do* coordinate informally. The infrastructure just needs to be formalized and protected from political pressure. That’s buildable, even if it looks impossible from a diplomatic standpoint.

Mali’s Shift Toward Russia and Regional Realignment

Everyone expects that enough international pressure will eventually force regional cooperation. Don’t count on it. Here’s what I’m actually watching: Mali’s military government^[11] has moved closer to Russia and further from Western partners, which means traditional leverage—development aid, military support, diplomatic recognition—matters less. JNIM’s blockade strangling Mali’s fuel supplies^[6] sounds like a crisis that should unite the region. Instead, it’s pushing Mali to seek Russian support and deepen its isolation from CEDEAO. The AES formation in January wasn’t a temporary political gesture—it represents a fundamental realignment. What that means for Guterres’ call for cooperation? It’s aspirational rather than predictive. The jihadist threat will keep expanding until something forces these countries to actually cooperate, but that forcing event hasn’t happened yet. By the time it does, we might be looking at 7,000+ annual attacks and a humanitarian disaster that makes today’s crisis look manageable.

Realistic Outlook on Humanitarian and Security Efforts

For anyone trying to actually understand what happens next in West Africa, stop waiting for governments to solve this. That’s not cynicism—it’s pattern recognition. The humanitarian crisis^[3] is already massive: 76,900 deaths and counting. Millions depend on farming, fishing, and livestock in a region now controlled by armed groups^[7]. What’s practical? NGOs will absorb most humanitarian burden. Security improvements depend on lower-level coordination that bypasses political deadlock. Economic recovery requires years, not months. The positive angle? Guterres publicly called for intelligence cooperation and intelligence officials are actually listening. Smaller initiatives—border security patrols between specific countries, informal information sharing between militaries—these can expand without waiting for diplomatic consensus. It won’t stop the violence tomorrow. But it’s how actual progress happens in fractured regions: through practical necessity rather than political agreement. Expect slow improvement, not transformation. Expect continued suffering while incremental cooperation develops. That’s the practical outlook when you strip away both pessimism and false hope.