Sudan in the Grip of Afflictions (2)

Sudan in the Grip of Afflictions (2): The General’s Noise and the Minister’s Clutter. By Nizar Osman Al-Samandal. If Al-Burhan has chosen to face Sudan’s tragedy with market tours, cups of coffee, and card games, those around him are offering other, no less strange, models for dealing with the catastrophe. While life crumbles under the weight of war, with millions of citizens caught between displacement, hunger, and fear, and cities torn apart by fires and collapses, some officials believe they can compensate for their inability to act with more clutter and threats, and that noise can replace the management of reality. Yasser Al-Atta presents the model of a military man who imagines that victory comes with a loud voice, and that boisterous words are capable of resolving a war whose complexities exceed everything that can be reduced to enthusiastic speeches. He filled the world with noise in his attack on specific countries, accusing them of conspiring against Sudan and its people and supporting the 'militia' that the army is fighting. The tone of threat was present, and accusations followed one after another, assuming that raising one's voice alone is sufficient to prove a position and manage the battle. But where did this voice go when dozens of Sudanese fell under foreign bombardment in Jebel Al-Aqidat? In the face of this death, nothing from Al-Atta was heard that matched that noise, and nothing appeared on the scene resembling his impulsiveness when he directs his accusations at the countries he sees as conspiring against his country. The rhetoric expands when there is a state to be accused, and narrows until it is almost non-existent in the presence of actual victims bombed by foreign aviation, whose fate requires a stance from Al-Atta toward the blood of the children of the country he speaks on behalf of. The irony becomes clearer when looking at his accusations against the UAE specifically for supporting the 'militia' and conspiring against Sudan. The Port Sudan government announced it was cutting off relations with the UAE and withdrawing its ambassador, even though, according to what he mentions, he did not leave the country, while economic relations and interests continued. The UAE remained the largest market for Sudanese gold, and then it opened its own bank in Khartoum, and the government itself celebrated the move. How do these facts coexist with Al-Atta’s fiery language? If his accusations reflect the state’s position, where is its translation in its policy? And if the government is proceeding to deal with the UAE and celebrate its investments, what remains of that noise other than statements that do not align with the behavior of those who made them? All of this makes Al-Atta’s noise closer to nonsense than to a responsible military discourse; accusations flying in the air without us seeing a political position consistent with them or results matching their clamor. In any case, screaming is not strength, my friend, and threatening is not a strategy, and fiery phrases do not produce victory. Wearing a military uniform does not exempt its owner from the duty of thinking, and holding a rank does not grant him immunity from questioning. War, despite all its horrors, is also a responsibility. Responsibility for people’s lives, for the soldiers who are sent to the front lines, for the civilians who live between the lines of fire and along the borders, and for a country that may not have enough left of it to be rebuilt if its depletion continues. Some may applaud the fiery words, but the bullets do not stop because an official raised his voice, and the city does not regain its security because a speaker promised victory, and the displaced person does not return to his home because someone swore in front of the cameras that the decisive outcome would be in two or three days. And if Al-Atta has chosen the arena of military statements, then Al-Burhan’s Minister of Information, Khalid Al-Aysar, has found himself another arena that is no less strange. Instead of being preoccupied with what the war imposes on the media and the citizens' need for reliable information, the minister turned to verbal battles that consume time and attention and do not offer the country what it needs in its plight. After he finished the 'battle of stoning the virtual devil,' and the hysteria and tension that accompanied it, Al-Aysar chose to wage his fierce war against the 'hired mourners' of both genders, and to open his debates with media voices, until his personal battle topped the attention at the expense of the questions that are supposed to occupy the head of the Ministry of Information. It seemed as if the minister had finally found the war he could manage in his own way; a war that does not require protecting civilians, nor information about the missing, nor explaining what is happening on the ground. It is enough to write, respond, clash, and mobilize his supporters, for the space to be filled with noise, making it seem as if a great battle is raging. Al-Aysar immersed himself in a fierce verbal war with one of the mourners, and according to the course of the debate, she silenced him, and he stopped barking somewhat. A round of the small wars that senior officials fight—great in their positions, small in their priorities—subsided, and the real war remained open, spilling the blood of the Sudanese and destroying their homes and lives. The problem is not in the minister responding to criticism or defending himself and the government’s policies; it is his right to clarify and refute what he sees as misinformation. The problem is for personal rivalry to turn into an arena where he exhausts his time and energy while questions accumulate that find no one to answer them. When a country fights a devastating war, the Ministry of Information is supposed to provide information, counter disinformation with the truth, explain policies, grant citizens their right to knowledge, and address the world in the language of facts. What does Sudan gain from a minister who consumes a large space of the public sphere in a debate with mourners? Was the fate of a missing person revealed? Did information that the displaced need arrive? Has the state’s narrative become more credible? Despite their different positions, Al-Atta and Al-Aysar meet in one imbalance of priorities. One bets on the rhetoric of threat, and the other is preoccupied with side media battles; and both give the scene more space than they give reality in terms of effort. They sometimes act as if the war is happening in another country, as if the Sudan that is burning is not the country they speak for, and as if the citizens searching for safety, bread, and medicine are not the primary owners of their time and attention. If they realized the magnitude of the distance between their official positions and people’s lives, they would know that every minute spent on a side conflict, every statement that carries no information or decision, and every show that leads to no result, increases the gap between the authority and society. The Sudanese are tired of these farces, and of waiting for an end that does not come. And it is not fair to add to that noise that consumes their nerves, does not alleviate their pain, and does not open a window for them to escape this loss. People do not need officials who are skilled at drowning the country in statements and debates, but rather those who acknowledge the scale of the catastrophe, respect the citizens’ minds, take responsibility for the failure, and work to change reality instead of settling for changing its image.