Tomorrow, one thousand days would have passed since the outbreak of the war. It is a heavy figure, not only chronologically but also in terms of bloodshed, devastation, and loss. The one thousand day mark compels us to take pause, not only to tally the losses, but also to reassess the path taken and to reflect on the harsh lessons written in human suffering, so that the tragedy is not repeated.
The most difficult question has always been how to deal with the dilemma Rapid Support Forces. They are not merely a military faction in this war; they are a non-state army that accumulated power through violence, a parallel economy, and the exploitation of social and political divisions. Any serious approach to this dilemma must begin by acknowledging that normalizing the existence of any militia or auxiliary force, equating it with the official military institution, would be a grave mistake that poses an existential threat to statehood. At the same time, relying solely on military action, without creating clear horizons for the future, risks reproducing violence in new forms.
The challenge of the Rapid Support Forces is not simply a test of the strength of an auxiliary military force; it is a test of Sudan’s ability to break out of the cycle of violence and to build a state that does not disregard the need for justice indefinitely under the pretext of realism. Once we place this problem in its broader context, it becomes more complicated: a Sudanese arena brimming with multiple armed formations, each with its own consideration, weapons, and discourse. Accordingly, the trajectory of the struggle with the Rapid Support Forces will send a broader message to all militias bearing arms as a shortcut to power, gains, or the redress of grievances.
Sudan has repeatedly tried half-solutions: fragile settlements that do not address the roots of the problems, but instead reward those who take up arms with positions and benefits, at the expense of victims and the state. The result has been the same every time: postponing the explosion rather than preventing it, and expanding the circle of violence instead of narrowing it.
Any settlement that grants the Rapid Support Forces legitimacy or concessions without dismantling their infrastructure and ensuring serious accountability for crimes committed would, in practice, become the first spark of the next war, not the end of this one.
Another question that has been raised since the outbreak of the war comes to mind here: is neutrality possible under the current circumstances? Can one tenably argue that it is ethical amid the atrocities committed against civilians and the deliberate, widespread destruction that has extended to all facilities and infrastructure, sparing neither hospitals nor educational institutions nor museums?
The same question can also be posed from a different angle: is it right to stand by the army, as the institution of the state?
My assessment is defending the morality of neutrality is difficult when one of the parties is known to have perpetrated mass atrocities: from ethnic cleansing, genocide, mass sexual violnece as tool of war, the looting of cities and villages, and the destruction of the communities’ social and economic fabric. These crimes have been documented by testimonies, videos taken and shared by fighters of the Rapid Support Forces themselves, and multiple human rights reports; so there is no “symmetrical conflict.”
To many, this conclusion is not born of a penchant for war but legitimate fears for what remains of Sudan’s statehood after confronting an unhinged campaign of mass violence, plunder, and dehumanization. The army’s defeat would not be a victory for peace. It would be the triumph of a rabid militia and the collapse of what remains of Sudan’s institutions, paving the way for total chaos.
Unequivocal rejection of the violations committed by the Rapid Support Forces, however, should offer the military a blank check. It must be coupled with firm insistence on the need to move toward a civilian state once the immediate threat is addressed: a state that monopolizes armament, protects its citizens, addresses grievances, and does not reproduce past tragedies.
After one thousand days of war, it is no longer enough to ask what happened. We must ask ourselves how to radically change the situation so that the tragedy is not repeated. The first of these changes is a decisive break with the notion that disputes are resolved through violence, to develop a state that imposes its authority and in which all institutions, including the military, are held accountable.
Preventing repetition also requires a courageous reassessment of the political transition: the roles of the elites and the reasons that previous solutions flattered. We cannot merely bemoan the outcome. If it does not entail frank debates of causes and solutions- however difficult this may be- marking the occasion becomes a meaningless ritual that is then forgotten until the next catastrophe strikes.
Today, more than ever, we are in need to consistently defend the value of human life and the homeland, consolidate peace and stability, and learn from mistakes rather than repeating them. History does not show mercy to those who repeat their tragedies, and it does not forgive those who had the chance to learn and chose to look the other away.
