Seeing Sudan from a Distance

It is not beyond Georgetown’s capabilities, as a school of foreign service, to get involved in authentic conversations about Sudan. Those conversations, untainted by Western influence and opinions, exist within this very country. They are happening a few streets away from GU-Q in Al Jazeera Mubasher. This means the most authentic conversations on Sudan are happening in Arabic, and though I do not accept the ‘language divide’ excuse, it does create a wedge between Sudanese people and the international community. There is a major issue with Sudan coverage in English: people in Sudan have been given the short end of the stick by having to rely on the Sudanese Diaspora and foreigners for war coverage in English. More often than not, the diaspora inserts their own political opinions, instead of relaying the public sentiment on the ground, and they present Sudan as a hopeless case where two evils are destroying each other and the country. Ameer Sadi’s article “How to Obfuscate Genocide” perfectly captures this fact. If you’re trying to learn about Sudan (which is rare in and of itself) and your sources of information are The Guardian and The Washington Post, or god forbid, the AI overview, which are the first few results you’ll get in Google, you’ll end up with a completely different understanding of a war that has devastated millions of lives. I don’t expect everyone to know this fact, but I do expect a little more effort from individuals directly involved in a conference addressing such a complex conflict. I cannot claim to have a ‘correct’ political opinion on Sudan, but I know this war beyond those sad reflections. I make it a point to put aside my own biases and listen to those still in Sudan, and to make sure it is their opinions that are being told to the world.. 

We were all ready for some of the words spoken at the conference to be buried in the past. After hearing multiple extremely problematic opinions on stage, I expected GU-Q to recognize how deeply insensitive they are. It was a surprise to me, then, to hear the words: “We are a nation that lives in the past,” in one of Georgetown’s promotional videos for the conference. This statement seems harmless in itself; however, when put within the context of this particular speaker’s views on the Sudanese nation, it is extremely disrespectful. In a room full of Sudanese people, he went on a ten-minute rant characterizing the Sudanese personality as a “violent, barbaric animal.” His overinflated sense of self led him to think of himself as a savior, combating the “strange ignorance” in Sudanese society about culture and art. In the brief moments he spoke about the war, he unknowingly absolved the United Arab Emirates of any involvement by stating that the war “came from the Sudanese themselves,” saying he feels a kind of pain when he sees “a Sudanese person killing another Sudanese person,” attributing this to “ignorance” and “backwardness.” Meanwhile, recent videos from Sudan show Colombian, Chadian, and Ethiopian mercenaries fighting on the ground. Granted, a large percentage of the RSF militiamen are Sudanese; however, their forces have been increasingly diluted by foreign militias brought and financed by the UAE. When Sudanese people fight against this foreign invasion, it is not ignorance or backwardness. It’s resistance. I watched as a dozen angry Sudanese aunts left the ballroom after hearing this blatant mischaracterization, but I stayed because I couldn’t say I expected less from a person with views sympathetic to Israel.

Within my closing remarks of Reporting Sudan, I attempted to address some of these issues in a limited time frame, but I emphasized recognizing Sudanese resistance and resilience amid a war of existence. I thought this was important because I didn’t appreciate the common theme within the conference that enforces the idea that two evils are battling for power and resources. This framing implies that the average Sudanese civilian has no stake in a war that’s impacting every aspect of their life and paints them as a simple bystander devoid of substantive political opinions and self-determination. The truth is, most people in Sudan are making the political decision to support an army that has betrayed them time and time again for their own reasons, and we do not, as outsiders, get to sweep this reality under the rug just because it is uncomfortable. Their backs are indeed against the wall, and they have very few choices, but I attribute this to the failure of regional and international institutions in providing an alternative solution, which means that they have had to rely on themselves for a real outcome. As much as I would have liked to hide behind neutrality, when I aligned myself with the neutral crowd, I found that their odd nihilistic view helps nobody in Sudan. They often throw their hands in the air and shrug, saying the situation is hopeless.

One of the speakers within Seeing Sudan said: “What can people do for Sudan? And I'm like, nothing, it's okay. It’s not up to you, it's not up to the students on campus. The Gaza thing is a separate thing. [...] but you cannot pull the levers in Sudan.” Perhaps it's just me, but I fail to see too much of a difference between Gaza and Sudan. The struggles in Sudan and Palestine are deeply interconnected, both containing ethnic cleansing, foreign support, genocide, and a man-made famine. The RSF has used Israeli weapons and increasingly aligned itself with Israel—one RSF advisor even stated, “We are like Israel.” This alignment has led to similar forms of resistance. Sudanese activists have called for boycotts of travel to and products from the UAE, pressured the UN to classify the RSF as a militia, and supported U.S. congressional efforts to sanction UAE companies and halt American arms sales. Protests also erupted in the UK after it hosted the RSF in Parliament, as well as outside UAE embassies in countries like France. However, these protests were mostly led by small groups of Sudanese and therefore received little media coverage. This is because of a lack of knowledge on the war, but I also attribute this to the Sudanese abroad who are still telling people there’s nothing they can do for Sudan. Why would you mobilize against the UAE if you don’t see the RSF as the primary aggressor? I guess we’ll sit in a circle, hold hands, and hope everything turns out fine. 

Still, the Reimagining Sudan panel held an interesting constructivist approach to Sudan’s war. First, I appreciated the simple existence of a panel that addressed the war within this conference, but beyond that, I agreed with most of the panelists on their views critiquing the Sudanese state pre- and post-war. I liked their commentary on what return should look like and why we cannot have true peace by simply getting rid of the RSF. We have to examine the root cause that led to the rise of the RSF, and dismantle the dictatorial structure powered by the economic elite. This self-criticism was refreshing in comparison to the condescension and blatant disrespect we heard in the opening panel. However, when examining and critiquing the situation that led to the war, those outside of Sudan have to be extremely careful not to be insensitive by framing the war as a lesson. We heard this in the panel Everyday Sudan, where a speaker said: “I don't think that as Sudanese we deserve to have this very harsh lesson. I think we are learning from this lesson to do better.” I don’t need to explain to this audience why thinking of a war that has devastated millions of lives as a lesson is insensitive, especially coming from a person outside of Sudan. The average Sudanese civilian cannot be punished for the faults of a previous regime, and it is they who are learning this ‘lesson’ by experiencing murder, torture, rape, and an endless list of crimes against humanity. She went on to say, “We don’t need to be resilient. We are resilient, and we can be, but that doesn't mean that we should be cornered into glorifying resistance or resilience. We deserve not to have to endure.” While this language sounds cute and flowery, this is another uncomfortable fact: this war is real, and death knocks on Sudanese people’s doors every day. Unfortunately, they do need to resist, and they do need to be resilient.

On the topic of self-critique, another speaker within Reimagining Sudan tried to get this point across in the worst possible way. She said: “Until you are able to see an RSF soldier who's 16, 17 years old, committing the worst crimes [...] as a child who is of your country, who’s had very few choices, or at least dramatically fewer choices than you ever had. Before you see them as somebody who’s coming to take your home, violate your women, destroy your country, then we have no hope.” She got a big round of applause after essentially asking the Sudanese people to sympathize with their killers. I'll repeat this point: The average Sudanese civilian cannot be punished for the faults of a previous regime, even if they benefited from it. Self-reflection is important, but I doubt there’s much self-reflection to do when your house is in ruins, your life savings looted, and your children missing. Saying it in this way risks implying that any RSF soldier deserves any sympathy, which, at least to me, they do not.

The Hiwaraat program has the potential to be a historic platform that hosts the most important contemporary political discourses of our time. Its very existence is a net positive—both for students and each cause it covers. I am not writing this article to discourage the organizers or paint Hiwaraat as an issue in and of itself; however, I see it as my responsibility, as a Sudanese student, to respond to claims I disagree with. I hope this criticism isn't met with scorn or blame, but with the promise that Hiwaraat will live up to its potential, which I am hopeful that it can for Sudan. To learn more about recent events in El-Fasher—and even as conversations about topics like Sudanese cinema continue to dominate CIRS discussions—please attend our event ‘What’s Happening in El-Fasher’ hosted by the ASA on November 11th.