The Opportunism of Conscience: When Shifting Colors Becomes a Virtue in Our Sinful Land

By Abshar Al-Haj. Sufyan al-Thawri once said, 'Whoever smiles at an oppressor or accepts their gifts has broken the bonds of Islam and is counted among the helpers of the oppressors.' The danger of this statement lies in its exposure of one of the deepest moral dilemmas: that a person becomes an opponent of injustice in their rhetoric, yet a partner in its continuation through their behavior—cursing it when deprived of its benefits, but finding excuses for it when it becomes a gateway to their own interests. Injustice does not derive its strength solely from the brutality of its perpetrators, but also from those who grant it social acceptance, normalizing its existence through pleasantries, 'silence,' and justification. In the Sudanese reality, a phenomenon emerges that deserves explicit intellectual confrontation: shifting colors according to the balance of power, dependency on self-interest, and the ability to wear contradictory masks without concern for moral consistency. There are those who master standing on all sides, speaking to every group in the language that appeals to them, and keeping an exit strategy for every situation, as if principles were temporary options to be invoked when they serve one's interest and ignored when they stand in the way. It is a mentality that transforms opportunism into a skill, sycophancy into diplomacy, contradiction into sagacity, and 'silence' in the face of 'falsehood' into wisdom; where principles lose their governing value and self-interest becomes the sole criterion for shaping positions. Here, the deeper dilemma begins when a person loses their moral independence and the ability to call things by their names; they see complicity as neutrality and opportunism as flexibility. Their mind transforms from a tool for seeking truth into a skilled lawyer justifying concessions, weaving a false narrative around them that protects their image before themselves. At that point, the governing question is no longer: 'What is the correct position?' but rather: 'What is the least costly and most beneficial position?' Thus, the conscience gradually erodes, not out of ignorance of right and wrong, but out of mastery in inventing excuses that justify contradicting one's convictions. More dangerously, society may perpetuate this deviation by rewarding the 'chameleon' while failing the one who takes a stand, labeling the opportunist as 'smart' and the one holding to their principles as naive, someone who doesn't understand the 'rules of life.' Perhaps the cruelest manifestation of this deviation appears in the social hypocrisy toward individuals; some exercise disdain and marginalization toward someone they perceive as simple despite their honesty, belittling them, their adherence to authenticity, and their traditional values—only for those same people, upon that person’s death, to rush to wear masks of tearful grief, enumerating their virtues and praising the qualities they despised yesterday. This moral oppression is also manifested in its most severe forms when a person is betrayed and their rights and assets are seized by the powerful and influential. Instead of finding support or empathy from the social environment or the oppressor's kin, the oppressed collide with a wall of complicity and justification, where justice is measured by money and power rather than fairness. Indeed, social insolence reaches its peak when the accusation is shifted from the perpetrator to the victim, with the oppressed asked with indignation and suspicion: 'Where did you get the money you gave him?' as if the crime were not in the betrayal and theft, but in the weak daring to possess what the strong covet. At that point, shifting colors is no longer an isolated individual behavior, but transforms into a social culture that redefines success as the ability to escape responsibility rather than the courage to bear the consequences of one's stance. The Sudanese war has made this dilemma even more painful; while people have paid exorbitant prices with their lives, homes, and security, some have found in the tragedy an opportunity to rearrange their interests, shift their loyalties, and get closer to centers of power. They follow the direction of the wind, sense the sites of influence, and reshape their rhetoric according to the side they expect to win, as if the national tragedy were merely a marketplace for personal interests. However, fairness requires distinguishing between opportunism and duress; invoking the words of Sufyan al-Thawri is not a call to condemn everyone or demand that individuals confront forces beyond their capability. Not every silent person is complicit; there is a fundamental difference between those whom force compels into silence out of fear or maneuvering to save their family, and those who lend it their voice out of greed for its spoils and investment in people's suffering. Necessity may force utilitarian behavior, but opportunism turns it into a conviction and demands that others respect it as wisdom. The real accountability, therefore, lies in the relationship between position and benefit: Does a person fail to resist injustice because of oppression, or do they become a defender of it because they benefit from its survival? The question that must be boldly put to Sudanese society is: Do we want a nation governed by principles, or a nation whose children redefine principles whenever the balance of power shifts? A just state cannot be built with a mentality that sees every authority as an opportunity, every tragedy as a space for profit, and every value as negotiable. Nor can trust in public life be restored as long as success is measured by one's ability to change positions, rather than the ability to adhere to a single moral standard, regardless of the actor's identity. Sudan’s crisis is not merely political and economic; it is also a crisis of moral responsibility. It manifests when personal interest takes precedence over truth, when loyalty to people is stronger than loyalty to principles, and when injustice is condemned according to the identity of the perpetrator rather than the nature of the act. True reform does not begin only by changing faces in positions of power, but by restoring the standard that makes injustice unacceptable regardless of its source, and justice a duty regardless of who benefits from it. The real tragedy is not in going along with an oppressive reality to survive, but in selling one's smile, silence, and then conscience to injustice, turning concession into a gradual loss of self. Nations are not destroyed by oppressors alone, but by those who grant injustice a moral cover and benefit from it. The final question that determines our fate remains: How much of our principles and morals are left after every time we claimed we were changing our positions just to survive?