Sudan Is Dying in the Dark: A War the World Chooses Not to See

Two rival forces, the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF), led by Gen. Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), commanded by Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, widely known as Hemedti have plunged Sudan into chaos. What may seem like a straightforward power struggle between two generals is, in truth, the complete extrication of a fragile nation. Once uneasy partners, the SAF and RSF are now locked in a brutal contest that has shattered institutions, displaced millions, and reduced cities like Khartoum and El Geneina to ruins. The conflict exposes deep rot within Sudan’s political and military establishment fueled by regional rivalries, illicit gold networks, and an international community largely watching in silence.

Within months, Sudan became the epicenter of one of the world’s worst displacement crises. More than 14 million people roughly 30 percent of the population have been forced from their homes since the fighting began. Entire urban centers, including Khartoum, have been devastated by shelling, looting, and siege warfare. The United Nations Human Rights Office and Human Rights Watch have documented atrocities that go beyond the battlefield: mass executions, the discovery of graves containing dozens of bodies, and the systematic targeting of the Masalit ethnic community in West Darfur. Yet as the scale of suffering grows, the world’s dominant response remains silence.

Investigations by Reuters, CNN, and UN-appointed panels reveal a darker undercurrent external material support that sustains the RSF’s war machine. These inquiries trace the movement of arms and supplies through shadowy networks stretching across borders, with flights landing on remote airstrips in eastern Chad and weapons surfacing with RSF units on the ground. Central to many of these reports is the alleged role of the United Arab Emirates (UAE) in providing logistical and financial backing, despite existing arms embargoes. The UAE has formally denied any wrongdoing, yet Sudan has taken the unprecedented step of filing a case before the International Court of Justice (ICJ), accusing the Emirati government of complicity in genocide through its support for the RSF. The core legal question remains stark: when a state knowingly provides material support to a group credibly accused of mass atrocities, does that state become legally complicit under international law? Yes, this external assistance doesn’t just extend the war, it risks making outside actors part of the crimes committed on the ground

Sudan’s tragedy is not only human but geopolitical. The country sits astride the Red Sea, a critical artery for global shipping and military logistics. Control over this corridor, along with access to Sudan’s vast gold reserves, has drawn in a web of competing actors from the Gulf states and Egypt to Russia and the United States. According to a United Nations Panel of Experts, gold production in Sudan has become a key source of revenue for armed groups, particularly the RSF, with an estimated 90 percent of output smuggled out through illicit networks into global markets In effect, the world’s appetite for gold is helping to bankroll one of Africa’s most devastating wars.

In short, global demand for gold may be indirectly financing mass violence. Meanwhile, competing global actors, from Russia and the United States to Gulf states and Egypt see Sudan as a stage for influence, turning its territory into a proxy-theatre where civilians pay the price.

History has a way of repeating itself when the world decides that economic interests outweigh human suffering. During apartheid in South Africa, global powers insisted on maintaining trade and political ties, claiming that economic stability mattered more than moral intervention. Likewise, in Rhodesia under Ian Smith, governments tolerated systematic violence because the regime promised “order” and “stability.” That same language echoes today in Sudan, where actors involved in the conflict justify military actions as counter-insurgency, necessary security measures, or steps toward national stability. The jargon changes, but the logic remains constant: brutality is excused when those in power promise control.

The parallels stretch further. Between 1987 and 1989, the Siad Barre regime in Somalia carried out a campaign that killed as many as 200,000 Isaaq civilians yet the world responded with silence. Today, the same silence surrounds Sudan. Entire communities are being displaced, cities reduced to ash, and civilians targeted, while the international community debates terminology instead of acting.

Genocide does not erupt overnight; it grows while institutions hesitate, while diplomats argue procedures, and while powerful nations decide whether the suffering of Black Africans aligns with their national interests. Silence is not neutrality, it is complicity.

The United Nations has repeatedly issued urgent warnings about the situation in Sudan, some even using the word “genocide” yet such statements alone do not stop bullets. The United Nations Security Council remains hamstrung by its structure: the five permanent members hold veto power, allowing any one of them to block meaningful action, and deploying a peacekeeping force depends entirely on member-states volunteering troops and resources. With no army of its own and collective paralysis, the UN often ends up as a witness rather than a defender.

Meanwhile, the African Union once bold in opposing regimes like apartheid South Africa and Rhodesia has offered little unified action in Sudan despite its stated principle of “African solutions to African problems.” Instead, diplomatic ties, political caution and fear of setting intervention precedents have blunted the AU’s response. The brutal takeaway is that in today’s global order African lives carry less political value than diplomatic convenience.

Global silence persists because Sudan’s war intersects with forces more powerful than morality: economic interests, in which gold wealth and control of Red Sea trade routes outweigh concern for civilian lives; geopolitical competition, where foreign governments treat Sudan as a strategic chessboard for influence; and institutional paralysis, with bodies like the UN and African Union structurally unable to act quickly when political costs are high. As these forces collide, civilians are left trapped between armed men who fight for power and institutions that debate procedure. The result is a humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in plain sight abandoned not for lack of evidence, but for lack of political will.

In Sudan, silence is not neutrality it is surrender. What is unfolding is not just a war, but a test of international conscience: whether the global community has learned anything from Rwanda, Bosnia, or Darfur itself. As gold flows and trade routes remain open, the world’s priorities stand exposed. The civilians of Sudan are not dying in darkness because the world cannot see them. They are dying because the world chooses not to look.