Understanding the Jihadi Insurgency in Cabo Delgado

In 2017, a new form of organized violence struck Mozambique in the form of an Islamist insurgency led by the Al-Shabaab sect. Since 2017, according to some source, over 4,000 people have been killed in the conflict, and more than 1 million have been displaced. Different scholars and observers have used terminologies such as “violent extremism”, “terrorism”, “insurgency”, and “Islamic radicalism” to describe the events unfolding there, while the government of Mozambique has also applied terms such as “bandits” and “evildoers”. Some see the consequences of the “resource curse” unfolding in conflict.

In his book Towards Jihad? Muslims and Politics in Postcolonial Mozambique, historian Eric Morier-Genoud concludes that Mozambique is faced with a form of Islamic jihad. The author argues that this jihad comes in rupture and opposition to the way Muslim leaders have engaged with the state in postcolonial Mozambique. To understand the dynamics around this conflict, mostly centred in the gas-rich province of Cabo Delgado, Fredson Guilengue, Senior Programme Manager at the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation’s Southern Africa Office, spoke with Professor Eric Morier-Genoud, one of the leading historians of religion in Mozambique.

You argue in your book Towards Jihad: Muslims and Politics in Postcolonial Mozambique that the study of Islam has not been the subject of significant attention in Mozambique. Most of the existing studies tend to focus on Institutional Islam (organizations and officials), not on the study of Muslims outside of the associations, for example, that would include the study of Islamic sects. What would you say are the negative societal and political consequences of the current poor knowledge about Muslims in Mozambique? How specific is this to Muslims, given the unstable relationship the state has always had with religion in general? 

Religion was hardly studied in Mozambique before the 1990s due to the dominance of Marxism and materialism in the humanities following independence. The first works that appeared in the late 1980s and 1990s focused primarily on Christian and Muslim institutions and their leaders. A new generation of scholars in the late 2000s began to look at individual religious sites and at faith and believers outside of institutions. While the historiography and our understanding have thus progressed, our knowledge of religion, and of Islam in particular, remains under par. There are still very few people working on the subject, and only two or three focusing on faith outside of institutions.

Socially, this does not matter much since inter-religious relations are very good in the country and there is a long-standing day-to-day practice of “ecumenism”. Academically and politically, this has more significant consequences. First, it has led to a weak understanding of topics related to religion and an overreliance on religious figures to explain faith-related matters. Yet religious leaders are not always best placed to discuss faith objectively. The second related consequence is that scholars, the state and its administration sometimes misunderstand topics and act mistakenly, if not counter-productively. We saw this when the insurgency began, and the police were suspicious of all Muslims in Cabo Delgado because they did not understand the difference between Islam, political Islam, and armed jihadism. 

You identify Frelimo’s and Muslim institutions’ problematic handling of the situation related to the sect in Cabo Delgado as the factor behind its transformation into a jihadi insurgency. Are there any examples in Africa or elsewhere of dealing with sects in a way that does not lead to them transforming into violent organisations, like in the case of Mozambique? 

The emergence of the Al-Shabaab sect was initially dealt with by the administration in Cabo Delgado in an ad hoc fashion. Some administrators were hands-off, arguing that tensions related to matters of faith, hence the secular state should not get involved. Others were more interventive and expelled the sect from their district. Some Muslim religious authorities were, similarly, hands-off while others tried to engage the sect to reintegrate its members into the Muslim mainstream. Dealing with this type of religious group is, in truth, complicated across the board, and there is much debate about how to deal with religious “sects”, i.e. organizations that distance themselves from, if not oppose society.

While the state continues to fight militarily and work on the socio-economic causes of the conflict, it should start a dialogue to explore how the insurgents might accept reintegrating into mainstream Mozambican society.

Some states, like China or Russia, control all religious institutions and ban those they deem dangerous. Other states hail religious liberty as fundamental and refuse to engage in the control of sectarian groups. The critical moment is when a sect starts to become hostile, if not violent, towards the rest of society and possibly its own members. Sects and cults can indeed attack society as well as engage in self-harm, leading to mass-suicide and/or mass-killing of their members, as we have seen with the Restoration of the Ten Commandments movements in Uganda in 2020 and pastor Paul Nthenge Mackenzie in Kenya in 2023.

So, how do you deal with sects when they turn aggressive and violent, and when do you start taking action? Forceful state action may seem an obvious response when problems start to emerge, but repression often inflames the situation and can tip a sect into mass violence. Each case is different, but in all cases, we need to understand the collective thinking of the group and gain a fine-grained sociological understanding of its members. This is where secular knowledge about religious affairs should come in. Some countries have established independent or autonomous Observatories of Religions or Observatories of Sects to scientifically monitor religious organizations and advise the state and society in a nuanced fashion, particularly when a sect or religion starts to create problems.

Given the prolonged nature of the conflict and Mozambique’s government and its allies’ (Southern African Development Community, Rwanda, etc.) failed attempts to resolve it militarily, what would be the best approach to deal with jihadi insurgency of that particular nature? What role would Islamic institutions play in any potential conflict resolution mechanism for Cabo Delgado? 

At the start, the government regarded the problem as “banditry” and used the police to deal with the insurgency. Rapidly, the army joined in the fight, and militia appeared soon after. After it declared the insurgents to be “terrorists”, the government facilitated an international military intervention from the SADC and Rwanda. While the SADC has now left, Rwandan forces are still active and very important to fight the insurgency. 

Since 2019, the government has also worked on the social and economic grievances of northern Mozambique to help counter the insurgency in a non-military fashion. First, the government created ADIN (Agência de Desenvolvimento Integrado do Norte), then designed PREDIN (Programa de Resiliência e Desenvolvimento Integrado do Norte de Moçambique) and PRCD (Plano de Reconstrução de Cabo Delgado), i.e. agencies and plans for reconstruction, social and economic development, and the resilience of northern Mozambique.[1] 

Finally, an idea of dialogue with the insurgents emerged in 2021 when former President Chissano suggested publicly that this should be considered as another dimension to resolve the conflict. Some people went a step further and mentioned the possibility of negotiations. I am not sure formal negotiations (like those between Renamo and the government)[2] are possible — it is hard to see jihadists negotiate with a government they fundamentally reject. But contacts and dialogue are possible and could be a good way to understand who the insurgents are, what they want, and what form of dialogue towards peace they might accept. On 22 June 2025, President Chapo, for the first time, publicly referred to the need for Mozambique to explore dialogue, so things might start moving in that direction soon.

To what extent could the government’s sustained military response inadvertently contribute to reinforcing the insurgency’s capabilities and capacity for resistance? 

Such risk exists in all conflicts. It is about the extremization of positions that war leads to, and about forcing people to choose sides without compromise or ambiguity — war is about life and death. It is also about unintended consequences and collateral damage that can hurt allies and force them to seek protection from the other side.

This jihadi goal is absolute: it rejects outright the existing secular state and demands an Islamic state and society. Because it is connected to faith, it is a matter of belief rather than argument, so it will be difficult to convince insurgents by using a language of reason. 

In a communal context, such as in Cabo Delgado, where social, economic, religious, and political divisions are interlinked, the dynamics are particularly sensitive and problematic. While the insurgents have chosen one side, the state must always be balanced and fair. It needs to be neutral concerning communities (and seen to be neutral) and act with the greatest care to avoid falling (or being pushed) into a communal trap. There is no doubt that the Mozambican government strives to do so, but this is more complex than it appears at first sight. For example, many soldiers who come from the South of the country do not understand Muslim cultures and the existing tensions between communities in Cabo Delgado. They have received little cultural training before being sent to fight in the north. Problems thereafter regularly emerge on the ground concerning religion, alcohol, behaviour towards women, etc. and misconception develop. 

Jihadism, as you also pointed out in your book, is a political ideology. This implies that Mozambique is currently facing an essentially political problem. This seems to be in line with narratives that reject the idea that poverty and inequality are behind the conflict. Do you see any potential for resolving this conflict by accommodating some of the group’s political demands?  

There has been a strong debate among scholars, analysts, and state officials about the “drivers” of the conflict and the “push and pull factors”. The consensus now is that the insurgency is the result of a mix of various factors, both push and pull, both grievances and a religious-political agenda. The jihadi ideology articulates grievances into a discourse of opposition, and it proposes the establishment of a caliphate with Sharia rule as a solution to all problems.

This jihadi goal is absolute: it rejects outright the existing secular state and demands an Islamic state and society. Because it is connected to faith, it is a matter of belief rather than argument, so it will be difficult to convince insurgents (particularly their leaders) by using a language of reason. We need to look for common ground within an Islamic paradigm and an Islamic language. So, as President Chapo recently said, while the state continues to fight militarily and work on the socio-economic causes of the conflict, it should start a dialogue to explore how the insurgents might reverse their hijra (migration out of society to fight jihad) and how they may accept reintegrating into mainstream Mozambican society.

Like many other studies done on the conflict in Cabo Delgado, your book also appears to have been constrained by a lack of or limited access to primary sources due to understandable security reasons. How would your findings have benefited if you had direct access to the group and its leaders? 

Research in a context of war is always difficult. Jihadi conflicts are particularly difficult because, first, the insurgents are not interested in academic research or journalism and, second, because the international community has criminalized contacts with jihadi movements. In the case of Mozambique, the United States has declared Al-Shabaab/ISIS Mozambique a proscribed “terrorist organization”, thus making illegal and criminal any contact with them. Yet, there is no doubt that interaction with this organisation, if only to get their public statements, would help us understand who the insurgents are, what their grievances are, and their political aim. 

According to your research, Muslim leaders in Mozambique have always wanted to negotiate with the state in cases of conflict related to their religious practices, as in the case of the use of the burqa. They have always respected the state and its institutions, including not questioning secularism. Did you find any similar attempts from the sect in Cabo Delgado to negotiate their demands before or after embarking on violence? What was the state response?

I recount in my book some episodes of interaction between the Al-Shabaab sect and the state administration before 2017. More research is needed, but what we know is that the sect expanded successfully before 2017 across the whole of Cabo Delgado and in parts of Niassa and Nampula provinces. It tried to operate separately from the rest of society and the state (hence the use of the term “sect”). Their objective was to live in a perfect Islamic society separate from the rest of Mozambican society.

From 2015, sect members began to clash with society and the secular state over issues they considered religiously “forbidden”, such as the selling of alcohol or the celebration of state symbols and holidays. This led to violence. Mainstream Muslims approached sect members to discuss the situation, but were met with a refusal to engage. Once violence was seen, the state arrested sect members, brought them to justice, and sent them to prison when the law demanded it.

The religious field in Mozambique is very diverse and very dynamic, with new groups and religious individuals emerging constantly or arriving from abroad.

From 2016, the state engaged in a more systematic repression of the sect. In short and in other words, there was no attempt on the part of sect members to engage and negotiate with the state or society before 2017. After eight years of conflict, however, there is an impression that the insurgents are more open to dialogue, if not negotiation, which is strongly recommended in the Quran and the Hadiths as a mean to resolve conflict.

There are two apparent dominant approaches in dealing with terrorist organizations. One argues for their complete military elimination, and the other for achieving peace through forms of negotiation. How do you think the conflict in Cabo Delgado must be approached, taking into account its particular characteristics? 

The term one uses to define a problem shapes the answer one gives to a problem. If the insurgents are “terrorists”, then dialogue and negotiations are not possible. If these men are “insurgents” or “misguided brothers”, then dialogue is possible.

Looking at the issue worldwide, one notes that a few conflicts were won militarily, as in Angola in 2002 and Sri Lanka in 2009, but most conflicts are brought to an end through negotiations, or a mix of military action, social and political policies, and dialogue or negotiations. After eight years, it is clear that the all-out military option has not succeeded in Mozambique, even when supplemented with social and economic intervention. President Chapo seems to have come to that conclusion and he declared he wants to consider dialogue. This is a significant development. Dialogue will not be a magical tool that brings an immediate end to the conflict, but it may be a determining factor in the medium term. 

Could you please elaborate on framing the proliferation of religious groupings as a religious market, and how this concept relates to the broader market economy? Additionally, do you see the possibility of new sects emerging from within Islam or other religious groups in the country?

The concept of “religious market” was developed in the 1990s by American scientists adherent to a “rational choice” theory. The theory advances the idea that people choose and change religion(s) like they buy goods in a shop. People would make “rational choices” without any influence of history, race, class, or origins.

I do not advocate for this approach, but I used the concept because it is a dynamic idea. Specifically, it allowed me to highlight the religious competition that dominated Mozambique in the 1990s and 2000s. Many faith institutions were moving into the country from abroad, and new religious institutions, movements, and prophets were emerging within the country. New sects saw the light of day, both Christian and Muslim, some with difficult relations with the state. 

To give two examples: the Apostolic Church of John Marange clashed with the state in the 2000s and 2010s because it rejected biomedicine and hospitals and allowed early and polygamous marriages, in contrast with some aspects of Mozambican law and a secular state. After much negotiation and adaptation, the Ministry of Justice finally officially recognised the church in 2024. Within Islam, the state faced problems during the same period with a group calling itself the “Salafists”, who displayed affinities with the Al-Shabaab insurgency. Again, after much back and forth, the group’s leader finally distanced himself clearly and publicly from “terrorism” in 2024, so state recognition may follow soon.

In other words, the religious field in Mozambique is very diverse and very dynamic, with new groups and religious individuals emerging constantly or arriving from abroad. The state operates as a “regulator” of that “market”, often successfully, thanks to the skills and hard work of its National Directorate of Religious Affairs in the Ministry of Justice. 

Some commentators have suggested that the radicalization of the insurgency has, in part, served to protect and shield local livelihoods, including involvement in illicit economic activities such as drug trafficking routes. Based on your research, what are your thoughts on this perspective?

In the early days of the insurgency, many people were pushing a conspiracist argument that the armed movement had been created to shield or advance foreign interests and illegal businesses. The finger was pointed at drug trafficking, illegal logging, the CIA, French oil interests, and some Gulf monarchies.

The elections, their contestation, and the post-electoral crisis have not helped the fight against the insurgency in northern Mozambique.

Today, these arguments have lost much of their potency. For one, our understanding of the insurgency and its causes has improved. For another, studies about international drug trafficking have shown, among others, that the insurgency did not facilitate smuggling in Mozambique but rather forced it to relocate into other provinces. 

This said, it is also true that armed conflicts generate a “war economy” which circumvents legality and helps fund the insurgents as well as corrupt officials. This economy shapes the dynamics of the war and complicates the objectives of both sides — one of those “unintended consequences” I previously mentioned

Is there a risk that the post-2024 presidential elections could amplify local grievances, creating opportunities for the insurgency to exploit them, as we have seen with the actions of the Naparama in Nampula and Zambezia Provinces?

The elections, their contestation, and the post-electoral crisis have not helped the fight against the insurgency in northern Mozambique. First, they have reinforced certain grievances and created new ones. For example, the re-emergence of Naparama militia in Nampula has created a new risk of violence, and the latter has complicated the alliance between the army, the police and the militia in Cabo Delgado to fight insurgents.

Second, the police and the army were distracted for several months, which the insurgents took advantage of to reorganise. By 2025, the insurgency had rebounded, consolidating in the south of the province and staging new attacks in Niassa Province. Eight years on, the war has regained much intensity and it will take much effort to reverse this situation.