Mali`s Mercenaries

KIDAL, Mali—As Ibrahim Keita emerges victorious in Mali's presidential election, a big challenge awaiting him is what to do with men like Cheikh ag Mohamed, one of scores of peripatetic soldiers who have made peace in this West African country so elusive.

The 32-year-old mercenary has spent the past three years at war—fighting for fallen Libyan dictator Col. Moammar Gadhafi in 2011, then in 2012 returning to Mali to fight on behalf of his ethnic Tuareg people. On a recent afternoon, he was back in his northern hometown of Kidal, deserted after a year of war, mulling offers to join various rebel groups.





Adama Diakité
Scores of mercenaries who once fought for Gadhafi in Libya and rebel militias at home continue to move around Mali's north.

"You know, we are the guys who are used to easy money," he said, lounging on his mother's sofa. "To dig holes? Plant? Agriculture? These are things for which I don't even know their names and don't even have the time."

The question of how to lure such men from militancy looms as Mali re-establishes a democratic political order after months of war against an al Qaeda-linked insurgency and a military coup that allowed the rebellion to flourish. How Mali welcomes them back into society—or doesn't—could determine the shape of conflicts to come in the vast and heavily-armed Sahara.

On Monday, Mr. Keita's political rival, ex-Finance Minister Soumaïla Cissé, conceded Mali's first election since the 2012 coup. Both France and the U.S. hailed the election, which culminated in a presidential runoff between the two men Sunday. The two nations are among the international donors that have pledged a total $4 billion in funds to address Mali's myriad woes: among them, drought, corruption, endemic unemployment and rampant drug trafficking.

For Mr. Keita, who served as Mali's prime minister from 1994 to 2000, prying the country's young men from their guns is a priority, but also a contentious issue.


Analysts estimate that several hundred to a few thousand guns-for-hire currently move around Mali's north, and across the desert into its richer northern neighbor Libya. In times of war, Gadhafi recruited from the impoverished Sahara to the south. When those mercenary camps shut down in moments of peace, men like Mr. Mohamed returned to their homelands, enlisting in lower-paying rebel and criminal groups.

In the past, Mali's government absorbed such restless mercenaries by drawing them into the army. That ended early last year, when hundreds simply deserted to join newly formed—and higher-paying—rebel outfits, military officials say. As one of his first acts of office, Mr. Keita will explore reconciliation settlements for the ex-soldiers, according to the president-elect's spokesman Mamadou Camara.

"I can't say in exact terms that there will be an amnesty program or what form the reconciliation will take," said Mr. Camara. "But we're looking at this."

Mali's senior army officers rule out bringing them back into the army. "Impossible," said Maj. Col. Didier Dacko, the lead commander for Mali's north. "I would not accept them in my army. They cannot command my soldiers."

Still, Western diplomats have pushed Mali's government to consider the approach again: "You can't wish them away," one Mali-based diplomat said. "These are people who have a role in their society."





On a recent afternoon, rebel leader Adghaimar ag Alliousseni made his case for why Mali's government should put his men on their payroll.

Mr. Alliousseni has spent a lifetime roving between rebel groups. After a failed stint making concrete blocks, the stocky commander joined Gadhafi's mercenary brigades at 17. At 50, he is still waging war and is now the chief of staff of the National Movement for the Liberation of the Azawad, one of the half-dozen militias in Mali's north.

"It's difficult to cleanse yourself of this," said the aging warrior, his eyeglasses sitting atop his satellite phone. "If you tell them to go back to their old lives without anything—that's difficult. They'll never accept it. But if you give them something to seed their hope?"

Back in Mr. Mohamed's mother's house, nephews and nieces filtered in and out of the living room. The gunman in shiny Islamic robes recounted the recent calls he had received from fellow mercenaries who have found work elsewhere. Possibilities range from joining al Qaeda, he said, or returning to Libya where some of his friends have now enlisted in the revolutionary government they fought to crush.

As a militant, he explained, "you can have a pickup truck easily. So why spend all your time shoveling dirt?"