Religion and State in Sudan: The Elite's Predicament and the Citizenship Test

Zuhair Osman: The Sudanese debate on religion and state cannot be understood as an isolated intellectual disagreement regarding the position of Sharia in the constitution, or as a binary confrontation between proponents of an Islamic state and supporters of a secular state. This debate, in its essence, reveals a deeper crisis concerning the foundation of the national state, the source of its legitimacy, the limits of its authority, and the nature of the relationship that should bind citizens to governing institutions. Since independence, Sudan has oscillated between competing visions of state identity without succeeding in building a stable constitutional contract that guarantees religious, cultural, ethnic, and regional diversity, or transforming this diversity from a source of power struggle into a foundation for equal citizenship. The persistence of this disagreement is not merely due to the complexity of the religious issue, but also its connection to the interests of political forces, the structure of the centralized state, the unequal distribution of power and wealth, and the use of identity as a means to gain legitimacy or strip it from opponents. Therefore, the real question is not whether religion is present in Sudanese society—as its historical, social, and cultural presence cannot be ignored—but rather: how can the state deal with this presence without becoming a tool for imposing a specific religious interpretation, an institution that discriminates among citizens based on their beliefs, or an authority that grants a political group the right to monopolize the definition of society and its identity? Here, the constitutional issue begins, and here, the Sudanese elite’s predicament appears. State without a Foundation Upon independence, Sudan inherited a society with multiple references and affiliations, but state-building was not accompanied by a firm consensus on how to manage this multiplicity. Visions of national identity overlapped with issues of language, culture, and religion, as well as the relationship between the center and the regions, and the historical disparity in opportunities for development and political participation. The disagreement over the Islamic nature of the state was not separate from these issues. Some actors saw an Islamic framework as the basis for legislation and constitutional identity, while others defended a state based on citizenship that guarantees freedom of belief and separates religious affiliation from political rights. Between these two trends, attempts emerged to reconcile Islamic reference with modern civil state institutions. However, the historical problem was not the multiplicity of these visions in itself; democratic societies do not need a comprehensive philosophical consensus to coexist. The problem was the failure to turn disagreement into shared constitutional rules, and the tendency of competing forces to treat the state as a field to impose their own vision, rather than a relatively neutral institution that guarantees everyone’s right to participate and disagree. Military coups, weak democratic institutions, the dominance of sectarianism and partisan rivalry, and wars have all hindered the development of this consensus. Whenever the constitutional foundation process falters, the question of state identity returns to the forefront—not as a stable, institutionally-governed discussion, but as part of the power struggle. Thus, the dispute over religion and state has become one of the expressions of a broader crisis: a state that has not completed its transition from an authority contested by elites to a political institution that derives its legitimacy from the rights of its citizens and their equal participation. Elite and the Management of Contradiction The crisis of the Sudanese elite is evident when we look at the gap between their declared intellectual positions and their political practices. Here, one sees a paradoxical contradiction: these sectors have treated the issue of religion and state as a battle to prove the validity of their project, rather than an issue requiring the establishment of guarantees that protect society from the monopoly of power. For analytical purposes, we can distinguish between three main trends, without assuming that any of them is a homogeneous block or that the boundaries between them are final. The first trend defends a democratic civil state, arguing that equal citizenship requires that political and legal rights not be linked to religion or belief, and that religious freedom is not complete unless the individual is protected from both religious and political coercion. Thinkers like Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na'im have made significant contributions to the discussion of the relationship between Islam, the state, and human rights, based on the distinction between faith as a religious commitment and the state as a legal authority binding on all citizens. However, this trend faces an equally important test: can it build a democratic discourse that connects with a religious society and respects its cultural choices without turning secularism into a closed, elitist identity? Does it suffice to reject a religious state, or does it offer a clear institutional vision for protecting freedoms, equality, and popular participation? A civil state is not measured by how far its discourse drifts from religion, but by its ability to protect citizens from discrimination and coercion, and by the submission of its authorities to law and accountability. The second trend includes Islamic currents that see Islam as an essential framework for the state and legislation, despite wide differences among them regarding the nature, limits, and implementation mechanisms of this framework. The experience of the Sudanese Islamic Movement, especially its participation in the 'Ingaz' (Salvation) regime, offers an important historical test of the relationship between religious discourse and the exercise of power. The experience showed that declaring commitment to religion is not an automatic guarantee of justice, and that a state speaking in the name of a moral project can produce tyranny, exclusion, and rights violations if its institutions are not subject to oversight and accountability. It also revealed that using religion in political mobilization does not prevent the declared framework from becoming a tool for securing the interests of power or justifying its decisions. This does not mean the experience of a party or political system represents a final verdict on religion or all Islamic currents, but it does mean that any project based on a religious framework must clearly answer the questions of power: Who interprets this framework? Who monitors its interpretation? And what prevents the ruler from presenting their political choices as religious rulings that cannot be challenged? In this context, the experience of Hassan al-Turabi is of particular importance due to his role in the Islamic Movement and the Ingaz regime, and his subsequent conflict with the authority he helped establish. It raises questions about the limits of intellectual revision, political responsibility, and the difference between objecting to the regime's tyranny and reviewing the foundations that contributed to its construction. Celebrating or rejecting revisions is not enough; their content and connection to self-questioning and practice must be examined. Sadiq al-Mahdi represented a different path that sought to combine Islamic reference with democratic pluralism. His experience requires an independent evaluation that distinguishes between attempts at Ijtihad (independent reasoning) and reconciliation, and what those attempts actually provided as practical guarantees for equality and rights. Similarity in using a religious framework does not erase differences in political positions or the conceptualization of the relationship between religion and state institutions. The third trend appears in conciliatory formulas that speak of a 'civil state with an Islamic reference.' These formulas are not necessarily ambiguous or contradictory; they may represent a serious attempt to build consensus between social religiosity and constitutional democracy. However, they remain insufficient unless they define the intent behind the reference, the source of legislation, the limits of institutional authority, and how to protect rights when a conflict occurs between a specific religious interpretation and a constitutional principle. If the reference means drawing moral inspiration from values of justice, dignity, and solidarity, while approving legislation through representative institutions and guaranteeing basic rights, it is fundamentally different from a formula that grants a political or religious entity the right to strike down laws and rights based on its own interpretation. Conciliatory phrases cannot resolve this contradiction unless they are transformed into rules capable of application and accountability. When Ambiguity Becomes Policy The Sudanese experience frequently repeats attempts to postpone foundational disagreements through general formulas that allow each party to retain its own interpretation. This might seem useful during moments of polarization, as it facilitates the formation of alliances or overcoming immediate crises, but it may produce a verbal agreement that fails at the first real test of power. Not all ambiguity is a conspiracy, and not all contradiction is evidence of opportunism. Ambiguity may arise from a legitimate intellectual difference, fear of triggering conflict, or the weakness of institutions capable of managing disagreement. But the problem begins when postponing a decision becomes a permanent substitute for building shared rules, and when elites treat terms as tools to manage alliances, rather than concepts whose legal and political effects should be defined. The question of a civil state, for example, is not resolved by repeating the term, but by defining citizens' rights, the independence of the judiciary, the limits of legislative authority, and ensuring freedom of belief, expression, and organization. Similarly, declaring an Islamic state is not enough unless the relationship between the religious framework and the will of citizens, and between the ruler's interpretation of religion and society's right to challenge it, is clarified. The same criterion applies to secular, Islamic, and conciliatory currents—their projects are not measured by their names, but by the freedoms they allow, the constraints they place on power, and the guarantees they provide against discrimination and exclusion. Here lies the responsibility of the intellectual. Their role should not be limited to defending an intellectual identity or justifying a party position, but requires exposing contradictions in the discourse of both the government and the opposition, and transforming abstract issues into questions that society can discuss and judge the answers to. Religion and the Centrality of the State: Beyond the Constitutional Debate The analysis of the religion-and-state crisis is incomplete if isolated from the structure of power and the distribution of wealth. Sudan has not only suffered from a conflict over identity definition, but from historical imbalances in the relationship between the center and the regions, the distribution of development and political representation opportunities, and the recognition of cultural and social diversity. When a specific group monopolizes state institutions or the tools for defining national identity, its cultural or religious discourse becomes a standard for acceptable belonging. At that point, the question is no longer limited to the relationship of religion to legislation, but extends to who holds the right to represent Sudan, and whose language, culture, and experience are recognized as an integral part of the national sphere. This does not mean that religious conflict is merely a cover for economic interests, or that every religious discourse aims for dominance. Rather, it means that ideas operate within social relationships and political institutions, and analyzing them requires looking at who uses them, in what context, and what consequences follow for the distribution of power and rights. An individual may adopt a religious view of the state out of sincere intellectual conviction, but that does not exempt the project from testing its effects on citizens who do not share the belief or interpretation. Likewise, a person may defend secularism in the name of freedom, but fail to achieve actual equality if they ignore social disparities, despise popular beliefs, or exclude underrepresented groups from decision-making. Therefore, overcoming the crisis requires linking constitutional discussion to issues of decentralized governance, fair distribution of resources, political participation, and ensuring the rights of regions and diverse communities. A state that fails to ensure justice in the distribution of power and wealth will continue to be prone to turning identity disputes into a struggle for survival and representation. War and the Test of State Legitimacy The ongoing war has revealed the fragility of national institutions, deepened divisions in the political sphere, and opened the door to competing discourses that monopolize patriotism or strip it from opponents. In this environment, religion, cultural or national affiliation can be used to mobilize supporters, justify authority, and portray the opponent as outside the national collective. However, the war cannot be reduced to a religious or identity-based disagreement; it is the product of overlapping military, political, economic, and historical factors. Yet, the continued absence of consensus on the nature of the state and the limits of its authority makes rebuilding legitimacy more complex, because ending the fighting alone does not resolve the question of who governs, with what mandate, under what oversight, and for whose benefit the institutions and resources are managed. Stopping the war is an urgent necessity, but it is not a substitute for refounding the state. A settlement that is limited to distributing influence between armed forces or political elites, without constitutional guarantees for citizens, may reproduce the crisis in a new form. Likewise, restoring state institutions is not enough if the institutions themselves return to operating according to rules that discriminate between citizens or allow for the monopolization of the public sphere. What is required in the reconstruction phase is not to exclude religion from social life, nor to surrender the state to any group that monopolizes its interpretation, but to establish a constitutional system that protects both religiosity and freedom of conscience, guarantees equality before the law, subjects power to accountability, and prevents the transformation of intellectual or religious disagreement into grounds for deprivation of rights. Citizenship: From Slogan to Constitutional Rule The discussion can shift from polarization to more solid ground if every political project is subjected to a set of decisive questions: Are rights and duties equal regardless of religion or belief? Does the individual enjoy freedom of belief, worship, changing their belief, or not holding a religion, without coercion or punishment for their choice? Can state institutions discriminate against a citizen because of their religious identity? Who holds the right to interpret the reference upon which legislation is based? And how are cases of conflict between a specific religious interpretation and constitutional rights resolved? Can the judiciary protect the individual from the authority even when the authority enjoys the support of the majority? These questions are not deferred legal details, but the essence of the relationship between the citizen and the state. A constitution is not measured only by the values it declares, but by the constraints it imposes on the ruler, the rights it protects from the fluctuations of politics, and the means it provides for the citizen to resist injustice. This does not mean the state is required to erase religion from society or treat it as a matter of no importance. Rather, it means distinguishing between society's right to express its values and beliefs and the state's right to impose a single interpretation of these values on everyone. It also means that a political majority, regardless of the source of its mandate, should not possess the power to cancel the fundamental rights of individuals and groups. The essence of citizenship is not that Sudanese people should be identical in their beliefs, nor that they should abandon their cultural and religious identities, but that they should enjoy equal rights despite their differences, and that the state should be a shared framework that protects this diversity and does not turn it into varying tiers of belonging. What Kind of State Do We Want? The predicament of the Sudanese elite regarding the issue of religion and state lies not only in their inability to agree on terminology but in the continued perception of the state as political spoils or a tool to impose a single intellectual project. This perception has contributed to making constitutional disagreements part of the struggle for power monopoly, instead of an opportunity to define its limits and guarantee the rights of society. This predicament cannot be overcome by declaring the victory of secularism over Islam or the victory of a religious reference over a civil state; these formulas reduce a complex crisis to a battle of slogans. Sudan needs a more serious discussion about the nature of institutions, the independence of the judiciary, freedom of conscience, equality, political participation, and the fair distribution of power and wealth. What is required is mutual revision—a revision of discourses that confuse the sanctity of religion with the legitimacy of the ruler, of discourses that look down on religious society, and of elites who postpone foundational issues whenever resolving them conflicts with the interests of existing alliances. This revision will not be complete unless it is linked to democratic institutions that allow for peaceful competition, guarantee the rotation of power, and grant citizens effective means to hold those in power accountable. Sudan does not need a state that decides on behalf of its citizens what they should believe, nor a state that ignores the reality of its society and its diversity, but a state that protects freedom of belief, treats citizens equally, subjects power to the law, and does not allow any party or group to monopolize the right to define the nation or speak in its name. In the end, the decisive question is not which current holds the correct definition of the state, but which project can guarantee the Sudanese person the right to be a citizen with full rights, without being asked to abandon their belief, hide their difference, submit to an interpretation they do not choose, or prove their loyalty to a group that monopolizes truth and power. That is the citizenship test to which all political and intellectual projects should be subjected. Without it, the debate over religion and state will continue to reproduce itself, and the elite will continue to fight over defining Sudan, while the citizen remains waiting for a state that recognizes them before demanding their loyalty. zuhair.osman@aol.com