Sudan’s traumatised people are desperate for a new approach to end atrocities and famine in the beleaguered country.

27 August 2024 – Mukesh Kapila

First published 27 August in The Guardian

Jeddah, Cairo, Addis Ababa – and now Geneva – are choice settings for a growing business: talking peace for Sudan. But whatever the venue, one deal seems impossible to broker: getting all the key players together at the same time and in the same place. Instead, fighting intensifies as diplomats shuttle between stakeholders unwilling to sit in the same room.

The reasons are clear. The belligerents – the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) of Gen Abdel Fattah al-Burhan and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) led by Gen Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo (known as Hemedti) – are not ready for peace. Well-armed and resourced by external sponsors, each thinks they can win. Especially when winning means establishing future hegemony and monopolising the country’s riches.

Their enmity is ferocious – as often happens when friends fall out. Their struggle is emotional and existential, making difficult the compromises beloved of rational-minded negotiators. Both fear that any give and take is a wedge for self-destruction.

Africa’s third-largest nation has enough space for both groups. But rewarding them through partitioning the country would be perverse. But we have seen that before, when South Sudan separated in 2011 after most of the previous 50 years of Sudan’s independence was mired in conflict.

There are historical grounds for pessimism. The RSF are descended from the Janjaweed, who committed genocide in Darfur in 2003-05 alongside elements of the SAF, under former president Omar al-Bashir. I dealt with them as head of the United Nations in Sudan. But speaking up cost me my job in 2004. Any satisfaction at helping to get them indicted by the international criminal court was short-lived, because they have remained shielded from justice.

We know from other genocides like Rwanda, Srebrenica and Cambodia – which I also dealt with – that there is no peace without accountability. Compromising with Sudanese warlords insults the 300,000 killed and 2.5 million displaced in the millennium’s first genocide and, furthermore rewards impunity. No wonder an emboldened RSF is busy again reliving atrocities in Darfur.

Peace is built from the bottom up. But the current process excludes Sudan’s civil society, especially women. After being cheated in 2021 when the generals reneged on their promise to transfer power, the people will not be fooled again.

Sudan is at the centre of an unstable zone stretching from the Atlantic to the Red Sea. Neighbours in turmoil often see their conflicts interconnect. The fragmented approaches of the UN, African Union and Arab League, and the divergent interests of their member states, cannot stabilise the region.

Unsurprisingly, appeals to any better angels lurking inside the fighters have been futile. In just 16 months, they have engineered one of the world’s largest humanitarian crises with 25.6 million people – more than half the population – facing acute hunger, with some areas tipping into famine. About 11 million people are internally displaced, and more than 2 million people have fled the country.

Healthcare and water provision have vanished, and aid is routinely attacked, blocked, and stolen. Sexual violence and other atrocities are widespread.

It is Sudan’s tragedy that its divided people are easily exploited by opportunistic leaders. Another reason why peace is elusive. My interactions as UN chief in Sudan revealed that elites around the prosperous capital were indifferent to the periphery.

Khartoum came to regret that when it became the centre of a new war. Nearly all parts of Sudan are now affected. Among the most neglected are the rebel-controlled areas of the Nuba Mountains and Blue Nile state, which borders South Sudan.

When I last visited the area, I was alarmed that a Darfur-type genocide was unfolding there. A decade later, the plight of 4 million people has worsened. These borderlands were victims of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement in 2005 that settled the Sudan-South Sudan issue. I regret my own contribution to a flawed arrangement that was never properly implemented. The guarantors – the US, UK and Norway – hastily moved on, leaving behind a confused and dispossessed people.

Regretting past shortcomings does not fill today’s empty stomachs. But it should strengthen our resolve to counter present-day wrongs. We must keep Sudan’s abused and traumatised people alive and hopeful. Although we cannot foresee when, all wars do eventually end.

That calls for an exceptional humanitarian endeavour, a modernised version of Operation Lifeline Sudan that I led 20 years ago. It included massive cross-border deliveries. We can do that from South Sudan and from Chad if the recent promise to open the Adre crossing into Darfur is honoured. But armed groups will continue to prey on aid and humanitarians cannot be limited to their traditional modalities.

Is it time to revisit traditional doctrine that frowns on armed escorts for aid convoys? Is there an ethical way to get such protection?

There is inspiration to be had from local workers recasting traditionally neutral aid as “humanitarian resistance”. It means treading where internationals dare not – across contested frontlines where safety assurances are not available or kept. Our highest respect is owed to those aid workers that are saving lives through calculated courage that potentially puts them in the crosshairs. Doing more of that could establish new norms with wider benefits, despite the risks.

Donors should prioritise support for drip-feeding community initiatives that are less attractive targets than huge warehouses and shiny trucks. That is also more cost-effective but may not be welcomed by large international agencies dominating the humanitarian sector, whose business model relies on acting as “middlemen”.

Relieving Sudan’s incredible agony requires not only doing more to help but necessitates working differently.