Some people occasionally surprise you with the question: Why call for a Sudanese-Sudanese dialogue in Khartoum, rather than in one of the capitals of the region, or even in a European capital far removed from the theater of war?
The question is legitimate, but it may be useful to turn it around: Why should the dialogue not take place in Khartoum?
If the objective is to achieve a genuine Sudanese political and societal consensus that helps end the war and preserve the country's unity, then the logic of holding the dialogue inside Sudan deserves to be viewed as more than merely a choice of conference venue.
It is an expression of a fundamental idea: that Sudanese people are the owners of the issue, and that the solution they seek should remain close to their society, directly connected to their reality, and truly belong to them.
The first justification for holding the dialogue in Khartoum is the affirmation of sovereignty and national ownership of the political process. The past years have shown that a proliferation of external platforms does not necessarily bring a settlement any closer.
Consecutive rounds of talks in different capitals may offer a comfortable negotiating environment, but they remain vulnerable to the agendas of mediators and host countries, turning Sudanese participants into parties to a process designed outside Sudan rather than its true owners.
This does not mean excluding the international community. On the contrary, its role may be more effective if confined to facilitation, guarantees, and technical assistance, while the management of the dialogue, its agenda, and its outcomes remain in Sudanese hands. This is the essence of the concept of "Sudanese ownership," which has become a recurring theme in international discourse on political settlement.
Khartoum itself is more than a geographical location. It is the nation's capital, a symbol of its unity, and a place deeply rooted in the collective consciousness of its people. When Sudanese gather there for dialogue, the message transcends the venue itself: no matter how deep the disagreements or how prolonged the war, the capital should not become a symbol of division created by political rivalries, nor should geography become a basis for questioning the center of the state.
There is another equally important dimension: experiencing the Sudanese reality as it is.
A dialogue held in a hotel conference room abroad can debate a ceasefire, displacement, reconstruction, and the economy. But a dialogue convened in the capital city itself, scarred by war, is far more likely to grasp the true cost of these issues on the ground.
Seeing devastated neighborhoods, listening directly to citizens and their suffering, and witnessing the conditions of affected families all make the dialogue more connected to the people for whom peace is ultimately intended.
A domestic dialogue can also open the door to broader social participation than conferences held abroad. Sudan is not only its political forces. It also includes tribal and traditional administrations, Sufi orders, youth, women, professionals, local communities, displaced persons, victims' families, and millions of citizens living with the consequences of war every day, including expatriates who have provided a social safety net that has helped protect Sudanese from mounting economic pressures.
If a viable settlement is the goal, then the process must extend beyond the politicians' table to include the society that will either bear the costs of the agreement or reap its benefits.
There is, however, an objection to a Khartoum-based dialogue that deserves to be heard: How can freedom, security, and neutrality for participants be guaranteed?
This is not a concern that can be brushed aside with slogans. Holding the dialogue in the capital must therefore be linked to a package of written and binding guarantees that ensure participants' freedom of movement, expression, and departure; protect them from persecution because of their political views; and prevent interference in the dialogue or the pre-determination of its outcomes.
Such guarantees have been among the top priorities of the Preparatory Committee for the Sudanese Dialogue, which has consistently emphasized them in its statements. Moreover, when the dialogue convenes, participants may request additional guarantees if they deem them necessary. Indeed, they can raise such demands now with the Preparatory Committee to assess the feasibility of implementing them.
In this sense, the choice should not be framed as a contest between an "internal dialogue" and an "external dialogue," nor as a struggle between Sudanese actors and the international community. The dialogue can be Sudanese in its leadership and location, while benefiting from international support in facilitating the process without interference in its agenda or outcomes.
Ultimately, the issue is not whether Khartoum is an ideal venue. The conditions of war make perfection impossible. The real question is whether the presence of the dialogue in the capital can be transformed into part of the solution rather than portrayed as part of the problem.
A peace process intended to rebuild Sudan should not begin far from Sudan itself. If Sudanese people are expected to shoulder the responsibility of saving their country, it is only logical that they should also have the opportunity to sit together at one table in their own capital, witness firsthand what the war has done, and decide for themselves, among their own people, how their country can emerge from this devastation.
Khartoum is not merely a venue for dialogue; it can be the first message that Sudan, despite the war, remains one country, and that its future can only be shaped by the hands of its own people.
