النظام السوداني يقوم باعتقال صحفي فرنسي بمطار الخرطوم ثم يبعده عن البلاد

Quote: SUMMARY Sudan’s transition to constitutional rule is failing: the reform of political institutions has not begun, while the country faces an intensifying economic crisis, a dramatic decline in living conditions, and a flare-up in localised violence. The civilian wing of the Sudanese state is bankrupt but unwilling to confront powerful generals, who control a sprawling network of companies and keep the central bank and the Ministry of Finance on life support to gain political power. The United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia appear to be positioning a paramilitary leader known as Hemedti as Sudan’s next ruler, but the military is fiercely hostile towards him. Western countries and international institutions have let the civilian wing of the government down: they failed to provide the financial and political support that would allow Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok to hold his own against the generals. The transition will only succeed if the government stabilises the economy and civilians work hard to tilt the balance of power away from the military and towards themselves. Europeans should use their relationships with Hamdok, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia to establish civilian control of the generals’ networks of companies. INTRODUCTION On 15 April 2020, the inhabitants of Khartoum, Sudan’s capital city, braved a newly imposed covid-19 lockdown to wait in line under the sun, hoping to buy bread, cooking gas, and fuel. The hot season was coming and, with temperatures steadily approaching 40°C, the daily grind of queuing was becoming unbearable. Family members took turns. Overnight, people left cars and cooking bottles to mark their positions in the queue. Chronic shortages of basic goods and soaring inflation have come to define the life of ordinary Sudanese. In villages and towns that rely on gasoline pumps – such as Port Sudan – the taps have often run dry, forcing people to queue to buy barrels of water. When the government scrapes together enough foreign currency to import basic goods such as fuel and wheat, this relieves some of the pressure. The April 2019 revolution, which ended Omar al-Bashir’s 30-year military rule, brought hope that a civilian regime would emerge to govern Sudan. But – less than a year since the appointment of the transitional prime minister, Abdalla Hamdok – this hope is fading fast. In February 2020, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) described Sudan’s economic prospects as “alarming” – unusually blunt language by its standards. Then came covid-19 and the associated global economic downturn. The IMF revised its assessment: Sudan’s GDP would shrink by 7.2 percent in 2020. By April, inflation had risen to almost 100 percent (one independent estimate finds that inflation may have hit around 116 percent). Adding to this grim catalogue of calamities, the swarms of locusts that have ravaged the Horn of Africa in the worst outbreak in 70 years are widely expected to arrive in Sudan in mid-June. The United States Agency for International Development estimates that more than 9 million Sudanese will require humanitarian assistance this year. On that same day in April, Khartoum’s political cliques were abuzz with rumours of a military coup. General Mohamed Hamdan Daglo – a paramilitary leader from Darfur known as Hemedti, who manoeuvred into the second-highest position in the state during the revolution – seized his opportunity to gain greater power. Playing on the fears of the Forces of Freedom and Change (FFC), a coalition of parties that backs the civilian government, he secured their approval to become the head of the Emergency Economic Committee – a powerful, if ad hoc, executive body. Hemedti promised to deposit $200m of his own money in the central bank to tackle the economic crisis. Hamdok would serve as his deputy on the committee. This setup testified to the new realities of power in Sudan’s political transition. Despite the fact that a “constitutional declaration” places the civilian-dominated cabinet in charge of the country, the generals are largely calling the shots. They control the means of coercion and a tentacular network of parastatal companies, which capture much of Sudan’s wealth and consolidate their power at the expense of their civilian partners in government. For the activists who mobilised for radical change, this is a bitter pill to swallow. Many of them see Hamdok and his cabinet as puppets of the generals. Democratic forces can still salvage Sudan’s transition, but Hamdok will need to show leadership and receive foreign backing. In particular, Hamdok will need to establish civilian authority over the parastatal companies controlled by the military and security sector. The task is daunting and fraught with risks, but Hamdok can acquire greater control by taking advantage of the rivalry between Hemedti and General Abdelfattah al-Buhran, the de facto head of state. He will need Europeans’ help if he is to succeed. This paper shows how they can provide this help. It draws on 54 recent interviews with senior Sudanese politicians, cabinet advisers, party officials, journalists, former military officers, activists, and representatives of armed groups, as well as foreign diplomats, researchers, analysts, and officials from international institutions. The paper explores the international and domestic dynamics that account for the transition’s stalemate; analyses the balance of power in Khartoum and the influence of the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia on the political process; and spells out the potential for further destabilisation. It also explores the consolidation of parastatal companies in the hands of the generals since the revolution; shows why establishing civilian control over these firms represents an urgent economic priority and a prerequisite for civilian rule; and lays out the ways Europeans can push in this direction. THE STRUGGLE AGAINST AUTHORITARIANISM Sudan’s chance for democratisation is the product of a difficult struggle against authoritarianism. For three decades, Bashir ruled as the president of a brutal government. He took power in 1989 as the military figurehead of a coup secretly planned by elements of the Sudanese Muslim Brotherhood, before pushing aside Islamist ideologue Hassan al-Turabi, who had masterminded the plot. During his rule, Bashir survived US sanctions, isolation from the West, several insurgencies, the secession of South Sudan, a series of economic crises, and arrest warrants from the International Criminal Court for war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide in Darfur. He presided over ruthless counter-insurgency campaigns that deepened political rifts and destroyed the social fabric of peripheral regions such as Darfur, South Kordofan, and Blue Nile. In the process, Bashir recruited a growing number of soldiers, spies, and militia fighters as he built new forces to hedge against the faltering loyalties of those he had come to rely on. He strengthened the National Intelligence and Security Service (NISS) – now known as the General Intelligence Service – to discourage a coup by the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF). Later, he turned pro-government tribal militias from Darfur into the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), an organisation led by Hemedti, as insurance against threats from the NISS. Throughout the 2010s, the Bashir regime put down successive waves of protests. But the uprising that began on December 2018 – triggered by Bashir’s decision to lift subsidies on bread – proved too much for the government to contain. As the movement grew, a coalition of trade unions called the Sudanese Professionals Association (SPA) established informal leadership of nationwide demonstrations, generating unprecedented unity among opposition forces. In January 2019, a motley coalition of armed groups, civil society organisations, and opposition parties united under a common declaration, marking the birth of the FFC. The protests culminated in April 2019 in a sit-in at the gates of the military headquarters in Khartoum. As junior officers vowed to protect demonstrators, the leaders of the military, the RSF, and the NISS put their mistrust of one another aside, overthrew Bashir, and installed a junta. In the weeks that followed, the generals negotiated with the leaders of the FFC. Buoyed by regional backing, the generals resisted any concession that would have threatened their dominance.[1] But the demonstrators refused to back down. They demanded civilian rule and organised the complex logistics of a sustained sit-in. Over time, as it became clear that the generals had no intention of relinquishing power, the mood at the sit-in hardened. Many participants came to reject any form of military representation in transitional institutions.[2] On 3 June, the last day of Ramadan, the generals sent troops to crush the sit-in. RSF militiamen and policemen beat, raped, stabbed, and shot protesters, before throwing the bodies of many of their victims into the Nile. Around 120 people are thought to have been killed and approximately 900 wounded in the massacre. These abuses prompted Washington and London to pressure Abu Dhabi and Riyadh to curb the abuses of their client junta, turning the tide in the negotiations. By late June, the generals and the FFC had agreed on the outline of a power-sharing agreement – even as a “march of the million” organised by grassroots organisations showed that the demonstrators had not been deterred. On 4 August, the generals and the FFC signed the constitutional declaration. The document envisioned a transition that would – over the course of a little more than three years, and under the guidance of a civilian-led cabinet of ministers – reach a peace deal with armed groups from the peripheral regions of Sudan, while establishing a new constitutional order and free elections. A mixed civilian-military body known as the Sovereignty Council would serve as the head of state and exercise limited oversight, but the “supreme executive authority” would lie with the cabinet. General Abdelfattah al-Burhan, the head of the junta, would chair the Sovereignty Council – with Hemedti as his deputy – until May 2021, before handing the position over to a civilian. A Transitional Legislative Council would act as the parliament: enacting laws, overseeing the cabinet and the Sovereignty Council, and representing the country’s diverse groups. When Hamdok, a UN economist picked by the FFC, took office on 21 August, there were grounds for cautious optimism. The peace talks with armed groups began in earnest and seemed to make rapid progress. Hamdok inherited a catastrophic economic situation and political structure in which the generals remained in high office but the constitutional declaration put civilians in the driving seat. Western countries expressed their full support for the transition. The journey would be difficult, but its direction was clear.

Quote: A STALLED TRANSITION There is no doubt that Sudanese citizens have gained new civil and political rights since the transition began. The new authorities have curtailed censorship. The harassment and arbitrary, often violent detentions conducted by NISS officers have largely ended. Minorities such as Christians now have freedom of religion. The government has repealed the public order law, which allowed for public floggings. And it is in the process of criminalising female genital mutilation. But the transition has otherwise stalled. Peace remains elusive. The peace talks have lost momentum after becoming mired in haggling over government positions. Most leaders of the armed groups that are negotiating with the authorities, gathered under the umbrella of the Sudan Revolutionary Front, represent narrow social bases. Many of their fighters are currently serving as mercenaries in the Libyan conflict. The two rebel factions that still control territory in Sudan are not actively participating in the talks. Meanwhile, localised violence has flared up in Darfur, eastern states, and South Kordofan. The institutional agenda of the transition, designed to empower civilians, remains at a standstill. The Transitional Legislative Council, the new civilian governors, and the commission in charge of planning the constitutional conference have not been appointed. The authorities have not achieved much on transitional justice.[3] The head of the commission in charge of investigating the 3 June massacre of revolutionary demonstrators said he could not protect witnesses. The authorities said they are willing to cooperate with the International Criminal Court to try Bashir and the other wanted leaders, but the generals are blocking a handover of the suspects to The Hague. And the economy continues to deteriorate. The predicament began with South Sudan’s secession in 2011. During the 2000s, when revenue from oil largely produced in the south flowed into Khartoum’s coffers, government spending grew by more than 600 percent. The secession cut off Khartoum’s access to most of these oil reserves, resulting in a collapse in revenue, a shortage of dollars, and a budgetary and foreign exchange crisis. Bashir’s government responded by printing money to buy local commodities – mainly gold from the booming domestic mining sector – at international prices, before selling them on international markets. Through the scheme, the government acquired foreign currency to finance the import of commodities it subsidised – fuel, wheat, and medicine – but created a vicious spiral of monetisation and inflation. Despite these efforts, the authorities soon began to run out of foreign exchange reserves. By 2018, the authorities were struggling to finance imports, and queues were forming outside petrol stations. The economic slide continued, prompting Bashir’s downfall. It has only continued since then. The Sudanese pound, which traded at 89 to the dollar in the last weeks of Bashir’s rule, now trades at 147 to the dollar. THE REASONS FOR THE STALEMATE Hamdok planned to address the disastrous economic situation by mobilising international support. Hamdok also hoped that the goodwill resulting from regime change would bring Sudan a windfall in development assistance. And if the international community could fund, for a few years, a new social safety net – at the cost of $2 billion per year – the government would lift subsidies on fuel, then wheat. These would be the first steps towards the stabilisation of the deficit and of the currency. In late 2019, Hamdok and Finance Minister Ibrahim al-Badawi set out on diplomatic visits to Washington and European capitals. They hoped to gain financial pledges and to persuade the US to remove Sudan from its list of state sponsors of terrorism. The designation, which forces the US to vote against debt relief for Sudan at the World Bank and the IMF, is a relic of the 1990s, when Bashir provided a safe haven to many jihadists, including Osama bin Laden. The rationale for the listing had already weakened by the 2000s because, in the wake of 9/11, the NISS started to share intelligence on terrorist threats with the CIA. The designation makes even less sense now that Bashir is gone. Although the state sponsor of terrorism designation does not impose formal sanctions on Sudan, it sends a political signal that stigmatises the country, deters foreign investment and debt relief, and casts doubt on Washington’s claim to support civilian government. Unfortunately for Hamdok, Sudan does not sit high on the list of priorities of the current US administration. President Donald Trump decided not to fast-track Sudan’s removal from the list of state sponsors of terrorism, allowing the process to take the bureaucratic route and become enmeshed in the conflicting perspectives of the State Department, national security and defence agencies, and Congress. Europeans have also pledged support to Sudan but have been slow to provide it, despite engaging in a flurry of diplomatic activity with Khartoum. Since Hamdok’s appointment, they have publicly and privately called on the US to lift its state sponsor of terrorism designation. The European Union has pledged €250m in new development assistance (along with €80m in support against covid-19) to Sudan, while Sweden has pledged €160m, Germany €80m, and France €16m-17m. Yet these are paltry figures in comparison to Europeans’ declared commitments.[4] Given its crushing debts, Sudan seems unlikely to stabilise its economy without debt relief and new financing. In addition to the $2 billion per year required to fund its social safety net, Sudan needs an estimated $6 billion to stabilise the pound. The path to debt relief under the Heavily Indebted Poor Country (HPIC) Initiative is long in any circumstances. But US indifference, European timidity, and the indecisiveness of Hamdok’s cabinet have combined to kill off hopes that the diplomatic momentum Sudan established in September and October 2019 would quickly translate into substantial international assistance. A US vote against debt relief for Sudan under the HPIC Initiative would only apply at the so-called “decision point”, which comes around a year into the process. In theory, this gives the Sudanese government and the IMF time to cooperate under the initiative as the US works to take Sudan off its list of state sponsors of terrorism. But international financial institutions will not provide new funding to Sudan before the country clears its debt arrears. Discussions between the IMF and the Sudanese government in late 2019 and early 2020 yielded nothing of substance: the government hesitated to commit to the structural reforms – starting with subsidy reforms – that the IMF requires to set up a Staff Monitoring Programme, a first step towards debt relief under the HPIC Initiative. International financial institutions have also taken note of foreign powers’ lack of enthusiasm for Sudan.[5] In September 2019, at a meeting in Washington, IMF officials reportedly advised Badawi to hold off on subsidy reform until international donors committed to funding the new social safety net, which would cushion the blow.[6] The World Bank sought to raise money for a new multi-donor trust fund for Sudan in October and December 2019, but failed to secure a single pledge.[7] The Friends of Sudan, an ad hoc group of donors and multilateral organisations established to coordinate international initiatives on the country, have inadvertently put this reluctance on display. Formed around a core group of actors that includes the US, the United Kingdom, Germany, the EU, France, and Norway, the body has since expanded to include the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the United Nations, and the African Union. Successive meetings in late 2019 and early 2020 have not led to substantive action. A pledging conference scheduled for June will be a crucial test of international goodwill. But Sudan’s international supporters have already lost precious time.