What’s the Rush? And the Current Political Debate!
Dr. Al-Khider Haroun
This was the title of an amusing article I wrote back in 2003 in response to an article published in a Sunday magazine issued by The Washington Post. This weekly edition was rich with cultural and social topics that didn’t find space in the newspaper’s daily issues, which were primarily focused on current news and political analysis. Similarly, The New York Times also published a Sunday magazine, which was even more substantial and well-established.
Today, we are on the verge of mourning print journalism, as it has been eclipsed by the dominance of fast, modern digital media—bland in taste and of little value.
The article in question told the story of a university student who spoke at an incredibly fast pace. Her professor, an eminent figure in linguistics, said to her, “Slow down, young lady! No one can understand you at that speed.” She responded, “My mother noticed that too. But I always thought that only slow-witted people spoke slowly, as if searching for words to express themselves. Then I wondered, how can I describe this esteemed professor of linguistics?”
The article continued by noting that New Yorkers are particularly known for their fast speech. Since many television networks are headquartered in New York, this trait has become characteristic of their speech patterns—so much so that elderly viewers complain they can no longer keep up with news broadcasts and TV shows.
I searched for my old article on my website (maqamat.com) to refresh my memory while writing this piece, but all I found was a meaningless jumble of text, with letters overlapping in a way that made it unreadable. This serves as a reminder not to rely solely on digital storage; instead, we must continue using the faithful companion—paper—which has been reliable since the days of papyrus!
One of the pitfalls of digital archiving in the age of artificial intelligence is how easily information can be stolen—or even deliberately erased. Indeed, I once wrote an article summarizing a lecture by the German orientalist and diplomat Bernd Werner, delivered on Africa TV alongside Professor Madthar Abdel Rahim Al-Tayyib. The lecture discussed research from the early 21st century suggesting that the civilization of the Nile Valley flourished between Khartoum and Aswan and that Semitic and Sudanese languages, as well as the domestication of cattle, all originated there. Werner stated that more than 95% of researchers now support this view.
I had uploaded a video of that lecture alongside my article on my website, my Facebook page, and Sudanile’s opinion platform for public access. But to my shock, when I recently tried to retrieve it, I found it missing from all these sources!
Now, back to What’s the Rush?—or, in more formal Arabic, “Fīma al-‘ajala?”
As mischievous children, we used to challenge the saying “Haste is from the Devil” by flipping its meaning and insisting that “Wheels are made of iron”—therefore, not from the Devil! After all, iron was endowed with great strength and power, and the invention of the wheel was one of humanity’s greatest achievements, revolutionizing transportation and making life easier. It even led some people to arrogantly believe they no longer needed the Creator, imagining themselves “capable of anything.” Of course, as children, we weren’t aware of such deep meanings—we were simply playing with words.
What our elders meant by “Haste is from the Devil” was reckless impatience, which often sabotages the achievement of goals—like the traveler who overloads his mount in his rush to reach his destination, only to wear it out before he gets there.
However, haste is commendable in matters of goodness. There is wisdom in the saying, “The best deeds are those done quickly.” In the Maliki school of Islamic jurisprudence, it is recommended to perform ablution swiftly, ensuring continuity between washing different parts of the body—a practice known as “immediacy” (al-fawr).
We didn’t fully grasp the exact meaning of “fawr” as children. Some of our teachers were short-tempered and reluctant to explain thoroughly, which is why it was said that the testimony of a children’s tutor should not be accepted! Others even claimed, “So-and-so is more foolish than a children’s teacher!” The great writer Al-Jahiz had many amusing stories about such teachers.
What’s the Rush? and the Political Context
This brings us to the speech delivered by Sudan’s Transitional Sovereignty Council Chairman and Commander-in-Chief of the Sudanese Armed Forces, General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, on February 9, 2025.
The urgency of his speech lies in the fact that the expected liberation has not yet reached its full extent, though its signs are emerging thanks to the extraordinary sacrifices of the armed forces, joint forces, and mobilized volunteers. As their leader, General Burhan undoubtedly deserves the highest praise and recognition.
However, what we see as undue haste is that significant milestones in the liberation process remain incomplete—particularly the sieges of El Fasher and El Obeid. The ongoing siege of El Fasher continues despite the crocodile tears of the UN Security Council and its feeble calls for intervention. Meanwhile, the rebels openly declare their intentions to use the city as a launchpad for attacks on Northern and River Nile states—and possibly even to retake Khartoum, as their leader Hemeti ominously suggested in a video: “The places they claim to have liberated—we were never really there. And we’ll take them back!”
Lifting the siege of El Obeid would pave the way for the liberation of many areas in Kordofan and West Darfur. Securing both cities would reaffirm Sudan’s territorial unity and dispel lingering suspicions that a secret deal was struck to exchange central Sudan for the west.
Burhan’s speech on “The National Proposal Initiative” suggests that he is shifting his focus from military campaigns to political processes. However, the reality on the ground indicates otherwise—battles still rage on Soba’s bridges, Manshiyya, the areas west of the General Command, east of Old Khartoum, along Mac Nimir Street, near the Friendship Hall, and in districts like Nimr 2 and Al-Firdaws.
While a delegation of esteemed citizens presented a national proposal to end the war, their initiative should be treated as one contribution among many—not as the ultimate foundation for Sudan’s political future. Other groups and factions also have their own perspectives, which must be considered.
There was no need to single out political parties—whether the National Congress Party or others—as this only fuels division at a delicate moment in Sudan’s history. After all, it was already decided that no political parties would hold power during the transitional period, and some of their members are actively engaged in the liberation struggle.
Yet, Burhan seems to view the 2019 Constitutional Document—despite its role in Sudan’s current crises—as still holding some allure. The presence of respected figures who were once part of it may explain why he seeks to draw legitimacy from it, despite having gained genuine popular support as a skilled military leader with undeniable battlefield victories. As the poet Abu Tammam put it:
“The sword conveys clearer messages than books—
Its sharp edge separates truth from mere pretense.”
While the authors of that document deserve respect and their input is valuable, using them as the sole foundation for Sudan’s future governance would be a repeat of past mistakes.
Sudan’s near-collapse demands that we all rally behind a new foundation—one rooted in Sudan’s unique cultural identity, while remaining open to global ideas that benefit the nation. This must be achieved through true democracy, upheld by a formidable, unified army that remains ever-vigilant against foreign threats.
Our international messages must be clear: we are committed to upholding global security and stability, but any friendship with foreign powers must be based on respect for our sovereignty and national dignity—without coercion or interference.
This critique, though firm, is written in the spirit of goodwill. Though it may not reach the eloquence of Al-Mutanabbi, I hope it adds something valuable. I have long resisted the temptation to engage in political writing, given the abundance of voices in the field. But sometimes, one must say something—however modest—that might help preserve a nation that our children and future generations deserve.
As the Greek historian Herodotus once said while standing at the borders of Aswan:
“Here lies the fountainhead of true human civilization.”
