Hope and Fear in Sudan Two Years After Protests Eruptedhttps://english.aawsat.com/home/article/2687946/hope-and-fear-sudan-two-years-after-protests-erupted
Hope and Fear in Sudan Two Years After Protests Erupted
Sudanese protesters from the city of Atbara, the cradle of Sudan's revolution, arrive in the capital Khartoum to celebrate the downfall of dictator Omar al-Bashir in April 2019 | AFP
Hope and Fear in Sudan Two Years After Protests Erupted
Sudanese protesters from the city of Atbara, the cradle of Sudan's revolution, arrive in the capital Khartoum to celebrate the downfall of dictator Omar al-Bashir in April 2019 | AFP
Sudan has experienced a whirlwind of change since its popular revolution kicked off two years ago, bringing an end to the three-decade reign of strongman Omar al-Bashir.
But experts warn the country is now at a critical juncture as tensions have flared between the military and civilian leaders who share power in a fragile transitional government.
"A rupture between civilians and the military is a constant risk," said Rebecca Hamilton, associate professor at American University's Washington College of Law, urging a "surge" of international support for the civilian side.
Former protest activists like 28-year-old Randa Ahmad are watching events with fear, but refuse to give up hope.
"Two years after the start of the revolution we are of course disappointed," she told AFP.
"We took to the streets because we wanted reform of an economy that was strangling us, and for the regime's criminals to face justice. This is still not the case and I'm suffering as a result."
But the pace of change has, in some respects, been dizzying since the youth-led movement started protesting on December 19, 2018 for greater freedoms and an end to Sudan's international isolation.
Bashir was ousted by the army in April 2019, and the new authorities have since put him on trial over the Islamist-backed coup that first brought him to power.
They have cooperated with the International Criminal Court, which wants to try him on charges of genocide, war crimes, and crimes against humanity over the conflict in the western region of Darfur.
The transitional government -- established in August 2019, four months after Bashir was deposed -- has struck peace deals with rebel groups.
It has also, under US pressure, agreed in principle to diplomatically recognize long-time enemy Israel.
And the US on Monday removed Sudan from its list of state sponsors of terrorism, a designation dating from the times when Bashir hosted Osama Bin Laden and other militants.
- 'Lack of trust' -
The delisting should help bring badly-needed foreign aid, debt relief, and investment to one of the world's poorest countries.
But at the same time, an economic crisis with skyrocketing inflation, exacerbated by the global coronavirus pandemic, is bringing yet more pain to the country of over 40 million.
The protests that began two years ago, sparked by high bread prices, were initially centered in the city of Atbara, around 300 kilometers (190 miles) northeast of Khartoum.
Long a hotbed of labor activism, Atbara is where previous revolts started in 1964 and 1985, respectively bringing down dictators Ibrahim Abboud and Jaafar Nimeiri.
Ahmad Khadra, one of the leaders of the Forces for Freedom and Change, the driving force behind the revolution, bemoaned the shortcomings since 2018.
But he is not giving up hope.
"It's true the government structure is not complete ... and the establishment of peace with the guerrilla movements in Darfur, South Kordofan, and Blue Nile is slow," he said.
"But it is moving forward anyway and the economy will improve with the end of the ban" by Washington.
Khadra said his greatest concern was discord between the cabinet led by Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok and the military, headed by army chief General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan.
"There is a lack of real trust which hinders the implementation of the agreement between them," he said.
- 'We will overcome' -
Hamdok this week criticised the security sector's "unacceptable" control over a vast array of companies in gold, rubber, flour, and other key sectors.
Burhan, who also chairs the Sovereign Council, Sudan's highest executive body, earlier accused the transitional institutions of deepening the people's "suffering".
"A year after its creation, I say that the transitional council has failed to respond to the aspirations of the people and of the revolution," the general charged.
The military, he pledged, would "remain the first force in defending the people, protect their achievements and work to protect the glorious revolution".
"Sudan is at a critical juncture," Rosemary DiCarlo, under-secretary-general for political and peace-building affairs, told a recent UN Security Council briefing, urging stepped-up support for the country.
"It can move forward decisively in its transition. But that process can still be derailed by the many challenges it faces."
Eric Reeves, a researcher at the Rift Valley Institute, fears a government rupture or even a coup is "an increasingly likely outcome".
The risk would increase early next year, he said, "as we approach the date on which the civilians on the Sovereign Council take over the chairmanship.
"For the interim, the military will continue to exert or claim more and more executive power."
Randa Ahmad, the activist, said she held on to the hope that change for the better is irreversible.
"Despite everything, I believe in the success of our revolution," she said. "We will overcome all the difficulties and we will have a democratically elected civilian government."
A Saddam Hussein mural is seen in Baghdad in 1991. (Getty Images)
People in Iraq often wonder dejectedly: What if Saddam Hussein were alive and ruling the country today? Many will reply with fantastical answers, but Saddam’s era would have responded: Iraq is isolated, either by siege or by a war that he launched or was being waged against him.
Many people cast doubt on whether actual change has been achieved in Iraq since the US invasion in 2003. The invasion ousted the Baath version of Iraq and Saddam was executed in December 2006, leaving questions to pile up over the years with no one having any answers.
After a quarter century, Iraq is accumulating questions. It casts them aside and forges ahead without addressing them. At best, it reviews itself and returns to that moment in April 2003 when the US launched its invasion. Or it asks new questions about the 2005 civil war, the armed alternatives that emerged in 2007, how ISIS swept through the country in 2014, or the wave of protests that erupted in 2019. It also asks new questions about Iran’s influence in the country that has persisted for decades.
The questions are many and none of the Iraqis have answered them.
A US marine wraps the American flag around the head of a Saddam Hussein statue in Baghdad. (Reuters file)
Saddam and the alternative
The September 11, 2001, attacks shook the United States and the entire world. They struck fear in Baghdad. Saddam had that year claimed that he had written a book, “The Fortified Castle”, about an Iraqi soldier who is captured by Iran. He manages to escape and return to Iraq to “fortify the castle”.
The terrifying Saddam and the terrified Iraqis have long spun tales about escaping to and from Iraq. It is a journey between the question and the non-answers. That year, when Baghdad was accused of being complicit in the 9/11 attacks, Saddam’s son Uday was “elected” member of the Baath party’s leadership council. The move sparked debate about possible change in Iraq. Bashar al-Assad had a year earlier inherited the presidency of Syria and its Baath party from his father Hafez.
The US invaded Iraq two years later and a new Iraq was born. Twenty-five years later, the country is still not fully grown up. Twenty-one years ago, on April 9, 2003, a US marine wrapped the head of a Saddam statue in Baghdad with an American flag. The Iraqis asked: why didn’t you leave us this iconic image, but instead of an American flag, used an Iraqi one?
Baghdad’s question and Washington’s answer
As the Iraqis observe the developments unfold in Syris with the ouster of Bashar from power, they can’t help but ask how this rapid “change” could have been possible without US tanks and weapons. Why are the Syrians insisting on celebrating “freedom” every day? They are also astonished at the Syrians who scramble to greet Abu Mohammed al-Golani, who has not yet managed to put this image behind him and fully assume his original identity of Ahmed al-Sharaa. The Iraqis wonder how the Syrians are managing this transition so far without a bloodbath.
They ask these questions because the Iraqis view and judge the world based on their own memories. They keep asking questions and await answers from others instead of themselves.
The Iraqis recall how in August 2003, after four months of US occupation, that the Jordanian embassy and United Nations offices were attacked, leaving several staff dead, including head of the UN mission Sergio de Mello. The Americans arrested Ali Hassan al-Majid, or “chemical Ali”, Saddam’s cousin, and 125 people were killed in a bombing in al-Najaf, including Shiite cleric Mohammed Baqer al-Hakim.
During that bloody month, the Iraqis asked questions about security, forgetting about Saddam’s alternative, democracy and the promised western model. Later, the facts would answer that the question of security was a means to escape questions about transitional justice.
Sergio de Mello (r) and Paul Bremmer (second right) attend the inaugural meeting of the Iraqi Governing Council in Baghdad on July 13, 2003. (Getty Images)
The question of civil war
Paul Bremer, the American ruler of Iraq, once escorted four opposition figures to Saddam’s prison cell. They flooded him with questions. Adnan al-Pachachi, a veteran diplomat, asked: “Why did you invade Kuwait?” Adel Abdul Mahdi, a former prime minister, asked: “Why did you kill the Kurds in the Anfal massacre?” Mowaffak al-Rubaie, a former national security adviser, asked: “Why did you kill your Baath comrades?” Ahmed al-Halabi simply insulted the former president. Saddam recoiled and then just smiled.
Saddam’s opponents left the prison cell with answers that should have helped them in running the transitional justice administration, but they failed.
The following year, Washington appointed Ayad Allawi to head the interim Iraqi Governing Council (IGC) that had limited jurisdiction so that it could be free to wage two fierce battles: one in Najaf against the “Mahdi Army”, headed by Moqtada al-Sadr, and the other against armed groups comprised of “resistance fighters” and “extremists” in Fallujah.
The opposition in the IGC got to work that was already prepared by the Americans. They outlined the distribution of Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds in the country, with historic questions about the majority and minority, and the “oppressed” now assuming rule after the ouster of the “oppressors”.
On the ground, the Ghazaliya neighborhood in western Baghdad with its Shiite and Sunni residents was in store for a bloodbath. On a winter night in 2005, an entire family was massacred and an enfant strangled to death. Soon after, lines drawing the Shiite and Sunni sections of the neighborhood emerged. The popular market became the tense border between the two halves. Two new rival “enemies” traded attacks, claiming several lives.
In Baghdad’s Green Zone, the IGC drew up a draft of the transitional rule. In January 2005, 8 million Iraqis voted for the establishment of a National Assembly.
Meanwhile, different “armies” kept on emerging in Baghdad. The media was filled with the death tolls of bloody relentless sectarian attacks. Checkpoints manned by masked gunmen popped up across the capital.
Those days seemed to answer the question of “who was the alternative to Saddam.” No one needed a concrete answer because the developments spoke for themselves.
Nouri al-Maliki came to power as prime minister in 2006. He famously declared: “I am the state of law” - in both the figurative and literal sense. Iraqis believed he had answers about the “state” and “law”, dismissing the very pointed “I” in his “manifesto”.
Nouri al-Maliki. (Getty Images)
The Maliki question
The American admired Maliki. Then Vice President Dick Cheney had repeatedly declared that he was committed to the establishment of a stable Iraq. Before that however, he had dispatched James Steele - who was once complicit in running dirty wars in El Salvador in the mid-1980s - to Baghdad to confront the “Sunni rebellion”. Steele set up the Shiite “death squads”. Steele was the man in the shadows behind Ahmed Kazim, then interior minister undersecretary, and behind him stood the new warlords.
In 2006, the political process was shaken by the bombing of the Al-Askari Shrine in Samarra. Questions were asked about the “need” to draw up new maps. Shiite high authority Ali al-Sistani said in February 2007 that the Sunnis were not involved in the attack. In July 2013, Maliki denied an American accusation that Tehran was behind it.
In those days, Maliki’s ego was growing ever bigger, and Steele’s death squads were rapidly growing greater in numbers.
The Iran and ISIS questions
Maliki tried to save himself as one city after another fell into the hands of ISIS. On June 9, 2014, as ISIS was waging battles in Mosul, Maliki met with senior Sunni tribal elders based on advice he had not heeded earlier and which could have averted the current disaster.
It was said that he made reluctant pledges to them and a third of Iraq later fell in ISIS’ hands. Sistani later issued a fatwa for “jihad” against the group, which later turned out not be aimed at saving the premier.
Maliki left the scene and Qassem Soleimani, commander of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps’ (IRGC) Quds Force, took over. Successive prime ministers would know from then on what it is like to be shackled by Tehran’s pressure as IRGC officials made regular visits to their offices.
Soleimani reaped what Steele sowed. By 2017, armed factions were the dominant force in Iraq. Running in their orbit were other factions that took turns in “rebelling” against the government or agreeing with its choices.
Today, and after 14 years, Iran has consolidated what can be described as the “resistance playground” in Iraq that is teeming with armed factions and massive budgets.
Protesters in Baghdad’s Tahrir Square in October 2019. (AFP)
The October question
The Iraqis were unable to answer the ISIS question and the armed factions claimed “victory” against the group. Many ignored Sistani’s “answer” about whether the Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF) was there to protect Iraq or just its Shiites.
Exhausted Iraqis asked: “What next?”
Next came Adel Abdul Mahdi’s government in October 2018. It was weighed down by unanswered questions and a year later, thousands of youths took to the streets to protest the state of affairs in Iraq, specifically the dominance of armed groups.
They were met with live bullets. Many were abducted and others were silenced. Abdul Mehdi acquitted the killers, saying instead that a “fifth column” had carried out the bloody crackdown on protesters.
After he left office, some Iraqi politicians were brave enough to tell the truth, dismissing former PM’s acquittal and pinning blame on the factions.
Sistani called for PMF members to quit their partisan affiliations. His demand was left unheeded. Mustafa al-Qadhimi became prime minister in May 2020. He left office months later, also failing in resolving the issue of the PMF and armed factions.
By 2022, everyone had left the scene, but Iran remained, claiming the Iraqi crown for itself, controlling everything from its finances to its weapons.
Question about post-Assad Syria
On December 8, Syria’s Bashar fled the country. Everyone in Iraq is asking what happens next. The whole system in Iraq is at a loss: Do we wait for how Tehran will deal with Ahmed al-Sharaa, or do we ask Abu Mohammed al-Golani about his memories in Iraq?
The Iraqi people’s memories are what’s ruling the country, more so than the constitution, political parties and civil society because they are burdened with questions they don’t want to answer.
And yet they ask: What if we weren’t part of the “Axis of Resistance”? Iraq’s history would reply that it has long been part of axes, or either awaiting a war or taking part in them.
