Kremlin in the Sahel
Russia boosts African ties, deploying Africa Corps in Mali, replacing Wagner. This enhances Moscow's influence, despite persistent threats and Western sanctions.
Russia is deepening ties with African nations, focusing on defence, security, and economic partnerships. The Kremlin’s new paramilitary force, the Africa Corps, has replaced the Wagner Group in Mali, filling the void left by the withdrawal of Western troops. Analysts view this as a strategic gain for Moscow, especially in the Sahel, where governments are turning to Russia to combat Islamist insurgents. Though Russian support has helped Mali’s military regain territory, threats from groups like JNIM and ISIS persist. Despite Western sanctions, Russia continues supplying advanced weaponry via cargo ships, solidifying its status as a major arms supplier to West Africa.
Russia’s renewed drive to deepen ties with African countries—particularly in defence and security—represents both a strategic pivot and shrewd opportunism born of shifting global power dynamics. As Western influence in the Sahel recedes, the swift deployment of the Africa Corps into Mali marks not merely a continuation of Russia’s presence but a more institutionalised model of engagement. Unlike Wagner’s murky, quasi-deniable operations, the Africa Corps bears the Kremlin’s formal imprimatur, signalling a long-term ambition to embed Russian influence across West Africa.
This moment reflects a convergence of African demand and Russian supply. For Sahelian governments battling entrenched insurgencies, Russia offers what the West never reliably provided: direct, unconditional military assistance. This realpolitik exchange—security for sovereignty—is especially appealing to regimes facing both existential threats and crises of legitimacy. For its part, Russia is capitalising on the strategic vacuum left by the drawdown of French and other Western forces. In Mali, its support has helped the junta reclaim portions of the north long beyond state control. Yet, these military gains remain fragile. Insurgents are deeply embedded, and Russia’s counterinsurgency blueprint lacks the governance and development components typically tied to Western aid. What Moscow offers in firepower, it often fails to match in post-conflict reconstruction or institutional support.
The Wagner Group's abrupt withdrawal from Mali after three and a half years has sparked widespread scepticism, casting doubt on whether it signifies a genuine retreat or merely a clever rebrand of Russia’s influence in the Sahel. The claim of "mission accomplished" rings hollow, given Wagner's tumultuous track record across African nations, where its presence—notably in Mozambique and the Central African Republic—often fostered instability rather than resolving it. In Mali, Wagner's tenure was marked by significant setbacks, including recent jihadist ambushes that exposed operational vulnerabilities and led to heavy casualties. The assertion of achieved objectives is unconvincing given the persistent chaos and lack of measurable progress against groups like JNIM or Tuareg rebels.
This transition to Russia's Africa Corps—formed around the time of Yevgeny Prigozhin’s death and now set to remain in Mali—only deepens these doubts. This shift appears less a departure from interference than a calculated attempt to refurbish Moscow’s image while preserving its foothold under a less tainted banner. The Corps' precise role and scale remain opaque but suggest a continued focus on regime security, mirroring Wagner's function for the ruling junta. This is thus seen as a cosmetic manoeuvre, designed to deflect criticism while ensuring Russia’s strategic interests remain intact in a politically fragile region.
Such suspicions are reinforced by Moscow's broader activities in West Africa, where it continues to exert influence through steady arms shipments via secretive maritime routes. Vessels laden with small arms, artillery, and advanced systems routinely dock at ports across the region, supplying regimes aligned with Russia’s geopolitical ambitions in exchange for resource concessions or political loyalty. As one of Africa’s top arms exporters, Russia has entrenched itself in countries like Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, arming conflicts while consolidating strategic leverage. This opaque trade, often mediated through intermediaries, undermines any notion that Wagner’s exit signals reduced Russian meddling; instead, it reflects a strategic recalibration.
Economically, Russia’s deepening arms trade with African states—despite sanctions and international scrutiny—demonstrates its strategic adaptability. The ongoing flow of sophisticated weaponry is both a logistical feat and a geopolitical tool, reinforcing Russia’s status as one of Africa’s top arms suppliers. Yet, this is more than mere commerce: it cultivates dependency and embeds long-term influence in an increasingly multipolar region. In effect, Russia is not just selling arms—it is exporting a model of partnership that prioritises regime survival over democratic norms.
This expanding footprint is not without risks. Should operations fail to deliver stability, anti-Russian sentiment could intensify. Moreover, by entrenching itself in volatile conflict zones marked by shifting allegiances and ethnic tensions, Russia risks being drawn into prolonged, costly engagements that echo its experience in Syria—albeit without the same strategic clarity. Nonetheless, in the short term, Moscow’s calculated presence in Africa is yielding geopolitical dividends: expanding its sphere of influence, undercutting Western leverage, and reinforcing its relevance in an increasingly contested global order.
Ultimately, Russia’s security pivot in Africa is less ideological than it is about power projection. In courting fragile states, the Kremlin is trading hard power for soft returns: military boots for diplomatic votes, influence for access to critical resources and markets. For many African regimes, it’s a difficult bargain, but one they appear increasingly willing to make.