Listen up, world — Mali just took a hard turn off the democratic highway, and guess who’s driving? That’s right, General Assimi Goïta is back in the front seat, goggles on, democracy in the trunk, and the constitution tied to the roof rack with duct tape. In a move that makes autocrats everywhere throw confetti, Mali’s military government has slammed the brakes on political party activity — indefinitely.
The official excuse? “Public order.” Yeah, and I moonlight as a yoga instructor.
Let’s not kid ourselves. “Public order” is the well-worn cloak authoritarian regimes love to wrap around the guillotine when they’re gearing up for a clean cut. It’s code for: “These civilian chatterboxes are getting in the way of our plans.” Plans, by the way, that remain conveniently vague, perpetually delayed, and suspiciously allergic to open elections.
Now, for those of you just tuning in — yes, Mali has been under military rule since 2020, when Goïta and his camo-clad cronies overthrow the government like it was a lawn chair at a barbecue fight. Since then, they’ve played democracy like a drunken accordion: loud, messy, and completely off-key. They promised a “return to civilian rule” by… whenever. First it was 2022, then 2024. Now? Who knows. By the time Mali sees a ballot box again, I’ll have grandkids.
Let’s paint this thing in colors even a blindfolded bureaucrat can see. This isn’t about “peace.” This is about power. It’s about silencing opposition parties before they can fill stadiums, get headlines, or – heaven forbid – run a candidate strong enough to challenge the khaki cartel. And don’t be fooled by the regime’s usual playbook: call political parties “divisive,” declare them “corrupt,” maybe even accuse a few of plotting coups of their own. Classics. Greatest hits of the military junta mixtape.
Meanwhile, the people of Mali — who, by the way, didn’t ask for any of this — are stuck between a regime with tanks and the international community holding strongly worded tweets. Oh sure, ECOWAS might huff and puff, and the UN may issue a “grave concern” memo, but words won’t crack this iron grip. Mali’s junta learned the one golden lesson of every military ruler who’s ever heard a crowd chanting “change”: if the people have no parties, they have no real voice. Political silence is the sharpest weapon in their arsenal — and right now, it’s pointed inward.
The timing ain’t a coincidence either. With a rising tide of anti-French sentiment, Russian influence creeping in like mold in the walls, and conflict zones lighting up the map, the junta didn’t just pull the plug on politics — they’ve thrown the whole system into an iron lockdown. No dissent. No disruption. No debate.
But let me say this — power hoarded in silence eventually rots. And when it crumbles, it takes the whole table down with it. You can’t suspend the people’s will forever. You can suppress it. Distract it. Even corrupt it. But kill it? History says otherwise. And Goïta would do well to study his predecessors, from Gbagbo to Ghaddafi, who’ve tried sipping from that same poisoned chalice.
So buckle up. Mali has become the latest classroom in the global masterclass of How to End Democracy Without Saying It Out Loud. And the final exam? It’s coming, courtesy of a people who won’t stay gagged forever — no matter how long “until further notice” lasts.
Stay loud. Stay woke. And remember: If you can’t handle the heat — well, you’re probably running the kitchen.
– Mr. 47
