What began as a defiant murmur in Bamako’s streets has become a thunderous call for democracy as tens of thousands of Malians take to the streets in the largest anti-government protests the country has seen since the junta seized power in 2020. At the heart of the unrest is growing frustration with Colonel Assimi Goïta’s military government and its increasingly authoritarian grip.
Since the transitional regime came to power through a coup nearly five years ago, Malians have endured broken promises of elections, harsh crackdowns on political opponents, and the dissolution of all political parties. The latest trigger was a sweeping decree issued in April 2025 that banned political activity altogether—an edict that, critics say, effectively outlawed democracy.
That move was the last straw for many, especially Mali’s vibrant civil society groups and youth movements who have long viewed the military-led government as an unelected relic overstaying its welcome. By May 3, protesters flooded the capital’s Independence Square, waving Malian flags, chanting anti-junta slogans, and demanding a clear timetable for democratic transition. “We kicked out the politicians to end corruption, not to install a permanent military king,” one protester shouted through a loudspeaker.
While the demonstrations have largely remained peaceful, tensions have flared. Police and military units have responded with tear gas, baton charges, and mass arrests. At least four protesters were injured during a recent clash, and dozens have been detained without charge, according to human rights groups.
The government has justified the clampdown by painting protesters as agents of foreign influence or remnants of the old corrupt political elite. “These gatherings are not organic. They are orchestrated to destabilize the state,” a junta spokesperson declared in a televised statement. But for many Malians, the message from the streets is unmistakable: they want their country back.
International reaction has been swift and uneasy. The African Union expressed concern over the suppression of political freedoms and urged the junta to reinstate democratic processes. The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), which had previously imposed sanctions following the 2021 coup, is reportedly considering new punitive measures if Mali’s military leaders do not offer a concrete roadmap toward civilian rule.
Meanwhile, the junta remains defiant. Col. Goïta has not spoken publicly since the protests erupted, but his government has doubled down on surveillance, arrested known opposition figures, and deployed more troops to urban centers. Behind the scenes, some insiders suggest the military is deeply divided, with some officers growing wary of becoming a permanent enemy of the people.
Adding to the volatility is Mali’s dire economic condition. The war against jihadist insurgents in the north continues to sap state resources, inflation is eating into household incomes, and basic services like healthcare and education remain critically underfunded. Many protesters cite these daily hardships as the real reason for their outrage, beyond the headlines of decrees and political bans.
“We can’t buy bread, we can’t vote, and we can’t speak freely—how is this better than before?” said Awa Diarra, a university student who joined the protests for the first time last week. Her words echo a broader sentiment that the promise of military-led reform has dissolved into disillusionment and repression.
Still, despite the government’s heavy-handed response, the movement is showing no signs of slowing. Leaders from Mali’s fractured but resilient opposition have managed to unify under a makeshift alliance, calling for weekly protests and international solidarity. Civil society actors, including influential religious leaders, have begun to cautiously criticize the junta—a notable shift from their earlier stance of neutrality or support.
For now, the streets of Bamako remain the battleground for Mali’s soul. The capital is tense but determined, with graffiti calling for “Liberté” spreading like wildfire. Protesters return daily, emboldened by their numbers and driven by a desire to reclaim democratic agency in a country that has drifted perilously close to perpetual military rule.
History may yet judge these weeks as a turning point in Mali’s journey. Whether the junta chooses to listen—or to silence the noise with more force—will shape not just the nation’s political future, but its moral one as well.
