"Whenever he sees a crowd, he says 'this is my people'"... this is even bigger!!

Alaa Khirawi■ In a satirical media commentary circulated on Sudanese platforms on October 9, 2026, distinguished Sudanese journalist Tasabih Mubarak Khater presented, via Sky News Arabia, a clever and intense political argument. In it, she revealed, through audio and video, a series of contradictions that have characterized the stances of Abdel Fattah al-Burhan since his appearance on the stage of events following the glorious December Revolution, through the massacre of the dispersal of the General Command sit-in, the October 25, 2021 coup, and up to the April 15, 2023 war and the subsequent fluctuations in his positions and speeches. However, what struck me most in that argument, which combined the power of documentation, the intelligence of analysis, and the irony of expression, was its highly significant concluding phrase: "And whenever he sees a crowd, he says 'this is my people'." I ask Ms. Tasabih for permission to borrow this eloquent phrase and make it the title of this article and an entry point to read the legitimacy crisis that has continued to haunt al-Burhan, until he appears like someone gasping for something he lost with his own hands, trying to retrieve it from places where he cannot possibly find it. How intelligent is this phrase, and how deep are the political and humanitarian meanings it holds! In just a few words, Tasabih managed to summarize what might require pages of analysis; a general chasing crowds in search of popular recognition for an authority he never obtained through the free will of citizens, and treating every human gathering as if it were a new referendum on his survival, while the people he claims to represent are distributed between displacement camps, refugee exile, and the graves of war, or are struggling within their homeland to stay alive. Perhaps the brilliance of this phrase is that it does not stop at mocking a man who exaggerates his popularity, but reveals a fundamental flaw in his understanding of the meaning of legitimacy, and exposes the contradiction between the image he tries to market to himself and the world, and the political, social, and humanitarian reality that the country has reached during his years at the head of power. Legitimacy is not a photo in which a ruler stands among dozens of citizens, nor a chant picked up by media microphones, nor a crowd summoned to a public occasion; it is a political and constitutional mandate that derives its existence from the free will of the people, and remains subject to their oversight and accountability. Hence, I do not see that al-Burhan's crisis lies in his loss of popularity that he once enjoyed—if he ever had a real political popularity worth measuring—but in his constant attempt to compensate for the absence of a constitutional and popular mandate with mass demonstrations that give him nothing of what he is looking for. The most ironic part is that the man who did not reach power through elections, who turned against the constitutional arrangements that gave him his position, and aborted the path of civilian transition, has started acting as if he carries a permanent popular mandate, and indeed as if every Sudanese he encounters in a street, stadium, or social occasion has come out specifically to renew his allegiance! Here, Tasabih’s phrase transcends the limits of media wit and political satire, to place its finger on the wound of the entire Sudanese dilemma: a general chasing a people he imagines gives him legitimacy, while those same people are chasing security they have lost, peace they have been denied, and a state they want to recover from the grip of arms and the ambitions of generals. ■ The first reason for the erosion of al-Burhan’s legitimacy, and indeed the most dangerous from a constitutional perspective, is that he destroyed with his own hands the foundation from which he derived his political status as Chairman of the Transitional Sovereignty Council. That status came from the 2019 Constitutional Document, upon which the transitional governance arrangements were based after the fall of Omar al-Bashir’s regime, and it did not come from general elections or a personal independent mandate. The presence of the military in the Sovereignty Council was supposed to be part of a temporary arrangement leading the country to democratic civilian rule, not a bridge for them to cross into permanent power. But al-Burhan, on October 25, 2021, decided to stage a coup against the transitional government, dissolve the Sovereignty Council and the Council of Ministers, declare a state of emergency, arrest civilian officials, and disable the essence of the partnership that originally granted him his political position. Here arises the question to which I have not found a convincing constitutional answer in all of the man’s speeches and justifications: How can the Chairman of the Sovereignty Council turn against the constitutional arrangement that created his position, and then continue to present himself with the same political capacity as if nothing happened? And where did the legitimacy of this continuity come from after he confiscated, by military decree, the will of his civilian partners and halted the transition process he was supposed to guard? It is true that al-Burhan tried to present his coup as a correction of the revolution’s path, but the events that followed did not lead to the restoration of civilian rule, but rather opened the country to a long phase of political turmoil, protests, and repression, and then war. In my estimation, this result cannot be separated from the coup decision that overthrew the fragile transitional balance and returned the military establishment to the center of direct political power. More importantly, the Sudanese people did not stand silent in the face of that coup; marches rejecting military rule went out, protesters were killed and wounded, and the demand for civility continued despite repression and restrictions. So why didn't al-Burhan consider those crowds his people when they demanded he leave power? And why does he not see in the people anything other than those who appear to support him, while the opposition becomes outside his political calculations? This selectivity reveals that the man does not deal with the masses as the original right-holders in choosing their rulers, but as a selective source of legitimacy, summoning them when he needs applause, and ignoring them when they demand accountability. The paradox becomes clearer when we remember that al-Burhan rose to the forefront of power in the wake of a popular revolution that raised slogans of freedom, peace, and justice, and then the country witnessed, under his chairmanship of the Military Council, the massacre of the dispersal of the General Command sit-in on June 3, 2019, a crime in which justice and accountability have not been completed to this day. How then can the man ask the Sudanese to forget these events, and to grant him new legitimacy just because he stood among them at a public event? And how can someone who blocked the path to popular mandate replace it with mass scenes whose participants' motives are hard to know? In my estimation, al-Burhan does not suffer from a lack of crowds as much as he suffers from the absence of the constitutional basis that gives him an independent right to rule Sudan; this is a crisis he cannot solve no matter how loud the chants, how many the photos, or how numerous the marches. ■ As for the second reason, it is the political and moral collapse that befell al-Burhan’s image as a result of the war, the contradiction of his positions, and the inability of the existing authority to protect citizens and restore normal life. Here, Tasabih Mubarak Khater brings us back to one of the most painful paradoxes in the man’s history; she replayed recordings in which he describes the war as an "absurd war with no merit," then other recordings in which he announces the continuation of the battle until the rebellion is eliminated. She also confronted him with his old statements in which he defended the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), denying they were a force working against the Sudanese people, and then with his subsequent statements in which he considered the RSF war a war against the people themselves. There is no doubt that the behavior of the RSF and its crimes and violations against civilians require condemnation and accountability, and that military shifts may require a change in political positions, but that does not erase al-Burhan’s responsibility for the years of partnership with Hemedti, nor does it exempt him from answering a very important question: How did the two leaders who held the reins of power after the fall of Bashir allow the dispute between them to develop into a full-scale war that destroyed the country? Both al-Burhan and Hemedti were partners in power, and partners in the October coup, before becoming leaders of two warring parties for whose struggle millions of Sudanese are paying the price. Therefore, any attempt by either of them to present himself as the sole savior of Sudan ignores his political responsibility for the path that led the country to this catastrophe. Then what remains of the components of legitimacy when the capital and numerous cities have become a scene of destruction, millions have been displaced inside and outside the country, vast sectors of education, health, production, and services have been disrupted, the value of the currency has deteriorated, and the suffering of citizens in obtaining food and medicine has increased? The authority that is unable to protect citizens and provide the minimum requirements for life cannot just demand them to rally around its leader as a national duty. The army is a national institution that is supposed to protect the state and society, not a political party that requests allegiance to its leader, just as supporting the army does not require supporting al-Burhan, and rejecting al-Burhan does not mean supporting the RSF. This is a fact that the military mobilization rhetoric tries to erase constantly, until the Sudanese citizen is required to choose between two parties that many Sudanese do not want either to continue in political power. Then comes the third internal factor, which is the return of the Islamic Movement networks to the forefront of the military and political scene, and their attempt to exploit the war to regain the influence they lost in the December Revolution. Al-Burhan has kept talking about protecting the revolution, while the expansion of the influence of figures and formations linked to the former regime raises serious questions about the future of the civil state and the fate of the dismantling of the empowerment process. Thus, the reasons for the legitimacy crisis accumulate: a coup against the transition, a military partnership that ended in war, failure to protect civilians, an economic and social collapse, and fears of the return of the political system that the Sudanese came out to overthrow. After all this, is it enough for al-Burhan to stand in front of a crowd of citizens to declare, with strange confidence, that these are his people? The tragedy of Sudan has reached a point where the citizen is looking for a homeland they can return to, while the general appears busy looking for an audience he can appear before. ■ Then come the external reasons, which in my view are the other side of the legitimacy crisis that haunts al-Burhan, even if they differ in nature from their internal causes. International relations are not based on popular recognition alone, but involve considerations of sovereignty, interests, regional security, and legal obligations. Therefore, countries can deal diplomatically with a de facto authority without granting its leadership a democratic mandate or political legitimacy for the future. However, al-Burhan seems keen on using any international contact or official meeting as evidence of recognition of his political position, ignoring that negotiating with a military leader who holds the decision of war does not necessarily mean approving of his continued rule. During recent years, Sudan has become a theater for the intersection of complex regional interests; Egypt views the war from the angle of its border security, the Nile, and Sudan's position in its strategic equations; Saudi Arabia is linked to direct interests in the Red Sea, maritime security, and regional stability; and the UAE faces repeated accusations of supporting the RSF—accusations Abu Dhabi denies—while the interests of other powers, including Turkey, Qatar, and Russia, intersect in files of security, armament, and economic and military influence. Given these calculations, it is no longer possible to deal with the future of governance in Sudan as a matter to be decided by the army leader alone, or by considering that controlling state institutions is enough to obtain permanent international acceptance. Nevertheless, one should not confuse the positions of these countries; some deal with al-Burhan as the head of the existing authority, others prioritize stopping the war and protecting the state and its institutions, and others are linked by relationships and interests with the various parties to the conflict. In fact, Russia, China, and a number of other countries opposed expanding the UN arms embargo to all of Sudan, based on considerations related to sovereignty and the approach they deem appropriate for dealing with the war, which confirms that the international position is not a single bloc moving in one direction. But that does not invalidate a fundamental political fact: that al-Burhan can no longer assume that his status as Chairman of the Sovereignty Council grants him unconditional international acceptance, or that being received in a regional capital resolves the internal mandate crisis he created with the October coup. Diplomacy may talk to him because he holds the authority of the de facto, and may negotiate with him because he can influence the decision of war and peace, but it cannot grant him the right to rule on behalf of the Sudanese. Hence, his attempts to employ international meetings and mass occasions appear as two sides of the same coin: searching for external recognition to compensate for the lack of internal legitimacy, and for a mass scene to compensate for the absence of a constitutional mandate. However, a state does not regain its legitimacy with photos taken in presidential palaces, just as a ruler does not regain his political mandate with photos taken in the middle of crowds; recognizing the need to deal with an existing authority is one thing, and recognizing its permanent right to rule is something completely different. ■ Finally, what al-Burhan deserves to contemplate most today is the development of the American position, because it clearly reveals how his political and military practices, and the accusations related to the violations that occurred under his leadership, have turned into declared reasons for American sanctions and the rejection of his eligibility to rule Sudan in the future. On January 16, 2025, the U.S. Treasury Department imposed direct sanctions on Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and the U.S. Department of State issued a statement accusing the armed forces, under his leadership, of committing grave violations, including targeting civilians and civilian infrastructure and obstructing humanitarian aid, and also accused him of obstructing peace efforts and the transition to civilian rule. The most important thing was not just the imposition of sanctions, but that the U.S. State Department linked them to previous sanctions against Hemedti, and stated that the two men, in Washington’s view, are ineligible to rule Sudan in a future dominated by peace. This is a fundamental point; the United States did not issue a judicial verdict condemning al-Burhan, nor did it issue a legal decision to abolish his position, but it announced a direct political position rejecting him as one of the figures suitable for the future of Sudan, based on the record of violations and the obstruction of the civilian transition. Here, his clinging to the title of Chairman of the Sovereignty Council becomes more questionable; he did not reach that position through an electoral mandate, but through transitional constitutional arrangements whose essence he overthrew in the October 25, 2021 coup, and then continued to use the title after restructuring the power institutions by his military will. Therefore, the objection to the legitimacy of his political continuity is not based on Washington’s position alone, but begins with the Sudanese constitutional question that has remained without a convincing answer since the coup. As for the most recent development, it came on October 8, 2026, when the Security Council unanimously approved Resolution 2830, which extended the Darfur sanctions regime and the associated arms embargo for two months, until December 11, and extended the mandate of the Panel of Experts until January 11, 2027. This extension came after the failure to reach a consensus on a broader American project to generalize the arms embargo to all of Sudan and address the flows of drones and dual-use technologies. It is true that Washington has not yet succeeded in passing the expansion it sought, due to the opposition of countries including Russia and China, but the continued tabling of the file reveals that the pressure tools have not been closed, and that the future of sanctions will remain part of the international negotiation regarding the war. It is not correct to assert that Washington has decided to topple al-Burhan or that it has set a date to end his authority, nor does any American contact with him mean a return of political recognition of his eligibility to rule; diplomatic engagement with the parties to the conflict remains a necessary tool to try to end it. But the question that should preoccupy the man is no longer the number of citizens who appear in the background of his photos, but how he will face the accumulation of sanctions, accusations, and pressures demanding an end to the war and a return to civilian rule. Here I return to Tasabih Mubarak Khater and to her phrase that I asked her permission to borrow as the title of this article: "And whenever he sees a crowd, he says 'this is my people'." I say that al-Burhan’s tragedy is that he looks for legitimacy in the place he cannot find it; he looks for it in a crowd he sees with his own eyes, while the origin of legitimacy is in the will of a people whose right to choose he confiscated; and he looks for it in international recognition of a de facto authority, while sanctions and questions regarding responsibility and accountability accumulate against him. Between this and that remains Sudan, with its people whom Tasabih described as being between camps, exile, graves, and displacement, waiting for the end of a war they did not choose, and the restoration of a state in which the position of Chairman of the Sovereignty Council is not a spoil to be kept by a general after he turns against the constitutional basis that brought him to the position. The issue is not how many crowds al-Burhan can gather, but by what right does he continue to rule a people who did not mandate him, and who gave him the authority to decide their future after everything that has happened? Perhaps the truth he should finally realize is that legitimacy is not restored by chasing the masses, is not made in media studios, and is not granted by the world’s capitals; it starts from the people, returns to them, and no one has the right to confiscate it in their name, then demand them to applaud! khirawi@hotmail.com