Who are the real colonialists?

Omar Hassan al-Bashir’s latest tactic to scare the United Nations away from Darfur (following his accusation that certain international voices were trying to “carve up” Sudan’s territorial integrity and his memorable threat to make Sudan a “graveyard” for foreign troops), as always infused with the motivation of desperate self-preservation, hinges on his attempt to raise the specter of “colonialism,” that historical bogeyman that Western countries seem forever doomed to tiptoe around. Emphatically clarifying the truth of the Khartoum’s position after months of overly optimistic speculating (especially in the tunnel vision reliance of Western powers on the May 5 Darfur Peace Agreement), Bashir declared that "[t]hese are colonial forces and we will not accept colonial forces coming into the country…They want to colonize Africa, starting with the first sub-Saharan country to gain its independence. If they want to start colonization in Africa, let them chose a different place" (see, for example, “Sudan accuses Jewish groups of pushing for UN troops in Darfur,“ Sudan Tribune, 21 June 2006). Besides his conspiratorial (and anti-Semitic) preoccupation with the “they” that he paints as determined to overrun and occupy his country – a “they” that he, revealing the ludicrous depths of his thought process, equates with the “Jewish organizations” who were supposedly the “only” organizers of recent U.S. demonstrations, an accusation whose absurdity would almost elicit a sigh of relief were the U.N. not foolishly determined to take Bashir’s rhetoric seriously – Bashir’s invocation of “colonialism” not only reflects a poor understanding of the concept and of Sudanese history, but also, were we to see through his statement’s transparency, in fact merely points the finger back at the government committing these genocidal atrocities. Even a cursory glance at British colonial history in Sudan makes clear that this experience far more closely resembles the strategies practiced by the NIF ruling elites in Khartoum (who are in fact the benefactors of British colonial policies) than those of a U.N. peacekeeping force, the very comparison of which to a colonial force is inapposite and counterproductive.
The crux of this argument – that current GoS policy in Darfur strikingly, and tellingly, resembles British colonial policies in Sudan – rests on the essential tactic of “divide-and-rule” used by both the colonial power and its modern day successor, the Khartoum ruling elite of genocidaires. Khartoum has long practiced this strategy in its brutal war in the South, a relevant example of which – and one that revealingly ties the South to Darfur and exhibits the intentionally divisive nature of Khartoum’s self-preservation techniques – was its disproportionate use of Darfurians (and soldiers from other marginalized areas) to wage its war in the South. Thus when people in Darfur rose up themselves, Khartoum hoped to have fully alienated any potential support from their formerly equally oppressed brethren (to the extent that Lam Akol and other puppet SPLA leaders given positions in the so-called Government of National Unity actually represent the sentiment in the South – which is doubtful – GoS played its cards well). A more enduring quality of Khartoum’s divide-and-rule tactics vis-à-vis the South, however, stretches back to the colonial period before January 1, 1956. This clearly arbitrary date that the British chose to cut and run hides behind its lofty proclamation of independence seeds of discord that had long been planted, fostered, even relied upon, and intentionallz exacerbated by both the British colonial rulers and their Sudanese protégés.
In a very real way, the National Islamic Front regime in power today traces its direct descent to British exploitation of the country and the few “natives” allowed to benefit from this, and thus given the keys to the government upon British departure. I do not intend to paint a conspiratorial picture of an Arab supremacist riverain elite as a temporally unified clique in comfortable maintenance of and transition to and from power (for to do so would be to grossly oversimplify Sudanese postcolonial history, to ignore internecine political tensions, Communist influence, and the situation surrounding Jaafar al-Nimeiry’s presidency, for example); I simply mean to call attention to the inertia of power-wielding that has, for 50 years, led inhabitants of certain areas of this massive country to continue to dominate higher political, educational, and military positions in the capital and has relegated certain other recurring areas to the margins of underdevelopment, lack of representation, and unequal benefits of wealth (this is of course the main thesis of the famous “Black Book” published in the late 1990’s and documenting the history of a power monopoly by certain tribes, which it is not my intention to assert, but which is an important indicator, at the least, of a common sentiment of Sudanese outside of Khartoum of not benefiting from the historically dominant political and economic order). The British experience, and the rationale behind training, preparing, and ceding the country to a certain group of elites, is, in a way, entirely comprehensible, given the perverse logic of colonialism. British policies were, almost by default, naturally channeled down tunnels carved out by the two predominant pillars of colonial rule at the time (I am referring here to the period after 1898, when Sudan’s territorial boundaries (not including, of course, the Fur Sultanate [Darfur], independent until 1916) were formally defined, and Great Britain assumed full control of the territory, despite the deceptive nomenclature of an “Anglo-Egyptian Condominium” and Britain’s sly tactic to house administration of Sudan not under the Colonial Office, but under the Foreign Office): economic exploitation, and political manipulation, which in the early 20th century underwent transition to the policies of Lugardian indirect rule that had come into fashion and which were in turn shaped by the underlying motivation necessarily beneath all colonial endeavors – ease of occupation. To this must of course be added the variable of distinction based on race, and of modifying, but ultimately maintaining, the cultural differences necessary for any subjugation utilizing a divide-and-rule strategy.
The former motivation, that of viewing the territory first in terms of resources to be plundered – only secondly treating the question of what to do with the people on the land to be exploited – is of course the raison d’être of colonial occupation. Its pursuit led the British to recognize that the north of the country was where their attention should be focused. Accordingly, this area was developed, schools were built, and certain Sudanese received the “benefit” of being trained as administrators (this quickly turned to anger and resentful nationalism as Sudanese graduates and trained professionals found no employment opportunities and no intention on the part of the British to cede their power in any meaningful way). Those who were recruited were not, of course, a reflection of the ethnic diversity of Sudan; rather, they typically came from families of Arab riverain elites who had been in positions of socioeconomic power even before the arrival of the British. This, again, befitted the dominant paradigm of following the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, in accepting and entrenching the status quo, the British also legitimized other long-standing practices and beliefs, such as the forays into Southern Sudan to capture slaves (slavery enduring, disgustingly, until the mid-90’s and even today in Sudan) and the racism of northern Sudanese toward southerners, which, while nuanced, nonetheless jibed with the familiar dark-light skin racism of European colonialists. The British further solidified this practice of enforced difference by their vastly different policy in administering South Sudan. In effect, this latter was more a conspicuous and intentional lack of any real administration; in the words of M.W. Daly, in Imperial Sudan, it was a practice of “institutionalizing backwardness” (cited in Richard Just, “An Imperialist Indifference,” in The New Republic, 15 May 2006). The British intentionally cut off the South from the rest of the country, made explicit in the Closed Districts Ordinance of 1922, which effectively delineated a policy of “two Sudans” – the ultimate example of a strategy of divide-and-rule. The South was left to underfunded Christian missionaries, whose own racism merely inflamed anti-colonial and anti-Northerner resentment.
Though such tactics may have eased administration of a large and unwieldy entity of hundreds of ethnicities, tribes, languages, and cultures for the British, they left a painful legacy, as well as a deadly recipe for how to subjugate, suppress, and retain control. Khartoum’s handling of the original unrest in Darfur of course does not mirror the British colonial design, but it is striking how, three years into the Government’s genocidal campaign, the essential component of fostering divisiveness, which perhaps helps explain – not to exonerate international actors whose pitiful response deserves a fair weight of culpability – how the genocide, rendered “ambiguous,” in Gérard Prunier’s term, has continued so long without a more appalled reaction, is possibly more visible now than ever. For it is just when (at least in the eyes of the overly optimistic international community) peace seems around the corner, that Khartoum’s failsafe tactic of diverting attention from itself to the squabbling rebel groups (and its crafty incitement of this squabbling in the first place) is most effective for preserving the state of chaos that allows GoS to continue its brutal counter-insurgency of genocide by attrition.
From the perspective of the Government of Sudan, of course, peace was never just around the corner. Even the much-heralded Darfur Peace Agreement of 5 (15, retroactively) May 2006, despite its deceptive title, was from the beginningmerely another tactic to maintain the genocidal status quo and to deflect international attention from the reality of what is occurring in Darfur. Beyond analyzing the failures within the document itself, notably its lack of enforcement and disarmament mechanisms, allowing Janjaweed militias to continue to carry out their genocidal, government-financed rampages throughout “rebel” countryside (for detailed analysis, see International Crisis Group’s report, “Darfur’s Fragile Peace,” 20 June 2006), Khartoum’s tactics during and after (as well as before) the negotiating process in Abuja themselves reveal the extent to which GoS merely intended to use the DPA as another wedge to drive amongst the rebel movements. Though the SLM/A had already split into its so-called Minni and Abdelwahed factions in the fall of 2005 (a split that I am sure was more than welcomed, by which I mean instigated and actively encouraged, by Khartoum, though I lack at the moment the resources to delve into this original fomentation), the divisiveness (and violence) between the two has sharpened considerably after the “breakthrough” on 5 May. Khartoum could not have wished for a more favorable result from Abuja (except perhaps, ironically enough, if the JEM, which enjoys even less support in Darfur and whose Islamist agenda and ties to idealogue Hassan al-Turabi provoke mistrust among Darfurians, had been the only party to sign) than what occurred; Minni Arco Minnawi, the relatively unpopular – and rather brutal, as reported by Julie Flint in “Pursuing an Illusion of Peace in Darfur,” The Daily Star, 24 May 2006, and “Dealing with the devil in Darfur,” New York Times, 18 June 2006) – military commander who single-handedly propelled himself up the ranks of SLA leadership (starting by inventing the position of Secretary General for himself, and culminating in his assumption of control of the organization at a meeting boycotted by his rival, Abdelwahed Mohamed el-Nur), of the Zaghawa tribe, representing only 8% of Darfur’s population, was the only one to sign the agreement. He has become increasingly isolated, even as other leaders of the movement have induced further fractionalization by later signing the DPA, and has become the subject of increasingly virulent attacks by the Darfur IDP and refugee population, being denounced as a traitor (see, for example, “SLM’s Minawi threatens to quit Darfur peace deal,” Sudan Tribune, 17 June 2006), as unrepresentative of the overwhelming majority of Darfurians, the largest group of which, the Fur, remains loyal to el-Nur, and even threatened with death (at Fata Borno Camp, an IDP stated bluntly, “If Minni comes here we will slaughter him” – see “For Darfur rebel leader peace is dangerous,” Reuters, Opheera McDoom, 6 June 2006). Many Darfurians have even voiced old fears of the conspiracy to create a “Greater Zaghawa Land,” a myth that Khartoum has seized upon and actively promulgated (the International Crisis Group speaks of “un sentiment anti-Zaghawa, que Khartoum depuis deux ans s’était efforcé de cultiver” in its 1 June 2006 report, “Le Tchad: Vers le Retour de la Guerre?,” though Khartoum’s attempt to cultivate an anti-Zaghawa sentiment likely began far earlier than two years ago). Moreover, this division, which immediately in the wake of the supposed peace accord, incited bloody rebel attacks on civilians that were reported to resemble Janjaweed raids in their viciousness, has the added benefit for Khartoum of removing the majority military component (the Zaghawa, disproportionately represented in the SLA military wing) from the field while leaving the bulk of civilians defenseless, at Khartoum’s mercy, and with no prospect of attaining concessions.
Proof of Khartoum’s inflammatory intent at Abuja is clear. As soon as Minni signed the agreement on 5 May, GoS main negotiator Ali Osman Taha immediately flew back to Khartoum, and the Government began rejecting all proposed additions to the agreement out of hand. The refusal of further negotiation points inexorably to the only truth that can be drawn from the past few months: such a fractured, insufficient agreement was exactly what Khartoum had been pursuing all along. Ruthlessly calculating that the international community would seize onto a peace treaty as a concrete (albeit hollow) symbol of accomplishment that would relinquish them from that pesky moral duty to intervene in the face of genocide and would, in Flint’s words, “fall[] over backward to do nothing to alienate the two parties whose signatures are on the bottom of the agreement” (Flint, op. cit., Daily Star), Khartoum managed to kill two birds with one stone. It not only eliminated the rebel movements’ capacity for resistance, as well as their hope of achieving a meaningful peace and concessions at the negotiating table (for after this (failed) treaty, the prospects of another accord are, in my opinion, extremely doubtful), but the Government of Sudan has, once again, perversely and sickeningly twisted events so that the international community is on its “side.” Depicting themselves as willing compromisers dedicated to peace, the Khartoum genocidaires can only smirk as the African Union and U.N. threatens sanctions on the very victims of the conflict, those who did not sign the peace accord. In another telling reflection of its cruel attempt to exacerbate inter-group tension, GoS has promised amnesty for those who have signed the DPA (see Xinhua, 12 June 2006, “Sudanese president issues decree on amnesty for Darfur rebels”), leaving those who did not in an even more precarious, and resentful, position.
The sum of Khartoum’s divide-and-rule and – dare I say – neocolonial tactics is evident in the chaotic maelstrom that is now the Kalma IDP camp. David Blair reports that, since the DPA was signed, Kalma was slowly but surely self-segregated according to tribal affiliation and has been marked by frighteningly recurring outbursts of violence (see “Tribal rivalry breeds fear in Darfur camps,” David Blair, Daily Telegraph, 26 June 2006). The effects are all too apparent; as Khartoum sits back, it can enjoy the fruits of its labor as Darfurian civilians, pushed to the brink of despair and fed lies and hatred, literally start killing one another, feeding the Sudanese propaganda machine (for now those claims of “tribal warfare” find even more accepting ears) and perpetuating its genocide. That an international force sent to protect these people from their own government’s attacks could even be described as “colonialist” is of course preposterous. While I would not necessarily go so far as to describe intervention as a necessary duty in overcoming colonialism and espousing conspicuous non-colonialism (with the argument, made in a recent op-ed, whose citation I cannot find at the moment, that to do nothing, to stand by and not act as the West is doing, is itself the more “colonialist” behavior, perpetuating a colonialist mindset of callous indifference), this is not for lack of belief in the necessity of intervention. Rather, I favor disposing with the inappropriate colonial comparisons altogether (though the author of the aforementioned op-edis correct to point out a degree of racism likely permeating the international community’s treatment of Darfur, even while this is by far not the only variable holding it back from a meaningful response), as they can only do harm for the situation by giving at least somewhat implicit credence to Omar Hassan al-Bashir’s outlandish accusations. The situation in Darfur should be regarded as it is: a government-conducted genocide in which innocent civilians are in desperate need of a force to protect them from their killers.