Questions of Formation… and the Delayed Explosion of History (1/2)

As I See

Adel El-Baz

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From the very first moment, Ubaid Marouh seized the reins of his article with his characteristic acuity and precision in “Sudan’s Earthquake… Are We Approaching the Formation of the Largest Bloc?” He took us deep into the layers of Sudanese history, probing—with sharp insight—the social foundations upon which the state was built in its earliest stages. He laid bare its longstanding inability to achieve genuine integration, as Sudan’s constituent groups remained fragmented—a condition that has persisted to this day.

According to Marouh, what has unfolded in Sudan is not merely a political failure to construct a stable system of governance; rather, it is something far deeper: a crisis of national formation that was never completed in the first place. The state is fracturing because it was, from the outset, built on fragile social structures that never historically coalesced. He further argues that “Sudan’s political and societal forces have now reached a state of paralysis and intellectual and programmatic bankruptcy.”

Having established this key analytical foundation, Marouh opens the door to major, overarching questions—and it is precisely here that our engagement with the issue begins. These are the questions this article seeks to approach.

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I recount here a personal encounter with the late Mohamed Ibrahim Nugud, which sheds light on the complexity of this problem. One evening, I visited him accompanied by my teacher and friends, Dr. Abdullah Hamdana Allah and Dr. Al-Tijani Abdel Qader. During the discussion, a question that had long sought an answer came to mind, and I asked him:

“Professor, I have a question searching for an answer: why did your generation—the independence generation—leave us all the major issues unresolved? Why did you leave us with questions of unity, development, and identity, only for them to explode in our faces today?”

He looked at me carefully and said: “Your question is valid, but you have asked the wrong person. You will not find an answer with me, and I advise you not to ask this question of anyone from the independence generation—because they simply do not have an answer. You must search for the answer yourselves, and you will find the answer that helps you see the future.” He then laughed, cautioning me against posing the question to certain other figures.

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That answer, despite its simplicity, was among the most honest—and most painful—responses I have ever received, because it reveals the scale of the dilemma into which independent Sudan was born. We are thus confronted with the very issues highlighted by Marouh: a state that failed to fuse Sudan’s diverse society into a single national framework, and that did not address the structural ailments inherited from the colonial era. The major questions remained suspended—until they eventually exploded in the faces of later generations. But why?

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The answer cannot emerge from a single perspective; the problem is far too complex to be reduced to one cause or factor. It requires a multidimensional approach. We are dealing with a layered, interwoven issue that cannot be adequately explained through political, social, economic, or even cultural and identity-based lenses alone.

If we are to trace the legacy of colonialism in complicating Sudan’s condition, we must view it not as a closed historical phase, but as an enduring structure whose effects remain active today. Colonial rule in Sudan did not establish a national state; rather, it created an administrative apparatus imposed upon a diverse society that was never given the opportunity to evolve naturally toward integration. It reshaped social formations—reinforcing some traditional structures while weakening others—and tied local loyalties to the administration rather than to society itself. As a result, tribe and sect remained closer to the people than the state.

Culturally, the disruption was no less profound. Systems of education, governance, and language were imposed that did not reflect the society’s true diversity, creating a gap between the center and the periphery, and between official culture and local cultures. This weakened the possibility of a unifying national narrative and eroded a shared sense of belonging.

Economically, colonialism did not build a balanced national economy; instead, it created a dependent economy designed to serve its own needs. Productive projects and infrastructure were concentrated in export-oriented regions, while vast areas were left outside the sphere of development.

Politically, Sudan inherited a state that was modern in form but not in substance. It inherited administrative institutions, governance structures, and borders—but not a stable national compact that fairly defined who owns the state, in whose interest it operates, and how power should be exercised within it. Since independence, politics has often failed to function as a tool for building national consensus; instead, it has frequently devolved into a zero-sum arena of conflict among central and peripheral elites, military and civilian actors, sectarian forces, and ideological currents.

Socially, the problem has never been diversity itself—diversity is a source of richness, not discord—but rather the failure of the state and elites to transform that diversity into a genuine national partnership. Over decades, Sudanese society has remained divided between pre-state loyalties and allegiance to the state: between tribe and nation, rural and urban, center and periphery. The necessary bridges were never built to integrate these formations into a shared project grounded in fairness, recognition, and participation. Consequently, when the state weakened, primary identities reasserted themselves, and many sought refuge in older solidarities rather than national institutions.

Economically, the crisis has not been merely one of generalized poverty; it has also been, in large part, a crisis of unequal distribution of wealth, services, and opportunities. Development, investment, infrastructure, and modern state institutions were concentrated in limited areas, while vast regions were left to exist on the margins of the state, deprived of a fair share of resources, services, or power. This imbalance produced not only disparities in living standards, but also a deep sense of grievance and marginalization. When people perceive that the state neither distributes wealth fairly nor provides equal opportunities, economic crisis quickly transforms into political and social crisis—fueling protest, rebellion, and fragmentation.

The cultural dimension follows as one of the most sensitive and complex. Since independence, Sudan has failed to produce a cohesive and balanced definition of itself. The elite has not succeeded in crafting a national narrative capable of accommodating diversity while giving it shared meaning. Instead of becoming an inclusive umbrella, identity has often turned into a field of contestation. When that happens, identity ceases to be merely cultural—it becomes political and social as well.

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These dimensions have not operated in isolation; rather, they have interacted in ways that allowed each to reinforce the others. Political failure to build a just state deepened social divisions; social fragmentation facilitated the mobilization of identity-based loyalties in political conflict; economic imbalance intensified anger and resentment; and identity confusion made it difficult to construct a cohesive national consciousness capable of transcending fragmentation.

Sudan thus entered a complex cycle in which each dysfunction reproduces the other, transforming the crisis from a problem of governance into a crisis of national foundation—one whose fundamental questions have remained unresolved since the moment of independence.

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The real question today is this: how do we move from a state that inherited a society it did not understand, to one that emerges from a precise understanding of its structures, grievances, and transformations? How do we build a nation grounded in mutual recognition, equitable distribution of power and wealth, and a unifying identity?

These are the questions we have long evaded—and they now return to us not as intellectual luxury, but as a condition for survival.

To be continued.