London Conference on Sudan – Part 1

By Sabah Al-Makki

The Hague: Where Sudan Stood Alone for Justice
In April 2025, Sudan made history amid a brutal and foreign-fueled war; it stood before the International Court of Justice (ICJ) — not as a defendant, but as a sovereign nation invoking international law in its most noble form: to name an aggressor and seek justice. Sudan brought a formal genocide case against the United Arab Emirates (UAE), accusing it of financing, arming, and sustaining the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), the militia responsible for ethnically targeted massacres in Darfur, the devastation of Khartoum, and the slaughter of civilians from West to Central Sudan. Sudan’s legal strategy was bolstered by compelling evidence, including satellite imagery, field reports, and harrowing testimony from survivors; Sudan did what many feared to attempt — it spoke truth to power, not through rhetoric, but through law. It was not only a case but an act of national defiance. A nation under siege used the mechanisms of international law to demand that the perpetrator and genocide enabler be held accountable. But while Sudan was asserting its sovereignty in court, another kind of theater was being prepared — not in service of justice, but to bury it.
A Summit on Sudan — Without Sudan
Five days after Sudan filed its case at the ICJ, the United Kingdom (UK) hosted the so-called “London Conference on Sudan” on 15 April 2025. Marketed as a humanitarian and political summit, it was co-sponsored by France, Germany, and the United Nations, with key participation from the United States, Norway, and, strikingly, the UAE. But the most glaring absence was Sudan itself. The Sudanese government, defending the country against the RSF, the UAE-backed militia, was excluded. In the “Sudan Condemns UK for Excluding it from the Summit While Including UAE” article, by Middle East Eye, 7 April 2025, Sudan’s Foreign Minister, Ali Youssef Al-Sharif, denounced the move as “unjustified and politically motivated,” warning that it undermined Sudanese sovereignty and empowered those prolonging the war. His warning was prophetic: as the summit opened, the RSF leader Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo (Hemeti) announced a rival government, exploiting the diplomatic vacuum gifted to him by Western organizers.
While Sudanese officials were locked out of a conference held in their name, the UAE, formally accused of aiding genocide, was praised as a humanitarian donor. The irony was not subtle; it was obscene. A conference about peace in Sudan was held without the Sudanese government, while one of the principal enablers of its devastation was handed a microphone.
The UK’s Role: From Peace Facilitator to Enabler of Impunity
As the UN Security Council’s official penholder on Sudan, the UK holds unique power: it sets the agenda, drafts the resolutions, and shapes international response. That role demands neutrality and courage. But when Sudan sought justice, the UK chose diplomacy in the service of silence. In “UNSC postpones Sudan complaint against UAE per UK request” article, by Al Mayadeen English 30 April 2024, it was revealed that the UK directly intervened to delay Sudan’s formal complaint against the UAE at the Security Council — denying a hearing for one of the most significant legal accusations of state complicity in genocide in recent history.
Then, on 24 June 2024, the Guardian’s investigative article “UK ‘tried to suppress criticism’ of alleged UAE role in arming Sudan” revealed that British officials were exposed for lobbying African diplomats to soften their criticism of the UAE and actively discouraging any discussion of its arms transfers to the RSF. Human rights lawyer Yonah Diamond confirmed these revelations during accountability discussions in Addis Ababa.
When Sudan finally brought its case to the ICJ, backed by forensic evidence and verified UN findings, the UK said nothing. It did not raise the issue in the Security Council. It did not support international investigation, and in its resolution on the siege of El Fasher, it omitted any mention of the UAE, despite clear evidence linking Abu Dhabi to weapons shipments sustaining the RSF’s campaign. The UK did not act as a neutral intermediary. It acted as a shield for its Gulf ally. In doing so, it betrayed Sudan and the principles of international law it claims to uphold. This was not diplomacy. It was complicity.

A UN Report Buried to Protect the Accused
Just five days later after the ICJ hearing and on the day of the London summit on 15 April 2025, The Guardian published damning revelations from a leaked UN Panel of Experts report titled “Leaked UN experts report raises fresh concerns over UAE’s role in Sudan war” The report, submitted to the UN Sudan Sanctions Committee, documented a sustained pattern of Ilyushin IL-76TD cargo flights from the UAE to Chad, landing near RSF-controlled territory in Darfur. Many of these flights disappeared from radar or altered course — a clear marker of covert military operations. UN investigators called it a “new regional air bridge,” which they believed to be a pipeline of weapons sustaining the RSF militia, accused of genocide. These findings mirrored Sudan’s ICJ evidence almost exactly. But at the London Conference, none of them was mentioned. Not a word about the weapons. There is no reference to the smuggling networks. There is no seat for the victims. The UAE, under international investigation, was celebrated as a donor. And Sudan’s legal voice? Nowhere in the room.
This was not oversight. It was a deliberate act of diplomatic sanitization — a choice to protect the wealthy Gulf ally and bury the truth. In London, the facts were suppressed, and the perpetrators were welcomed, while Sudan’s evidence was locked out alongside its flag.
A Coalition of Impunity: UAE, Chad, Kenya
Those fueling Sudan’s war were not condemned at the London Conference — they were honored. The UAE, formally accused of enabling genocide, was treated as a humanitarian stakeholder. Chad, identified in the UN report as a key arms corridor for RSF supply chains, was cast as a regional stabilizer, despite doing nothing to intercept these operations. Kenya, which hosted RSF-aligned opposition figures under the guise of “civilian dialogue,” was positioned as a peace facilitator.
On 20 February 2025, Eastleigh Voice published “Kenya defends decision to host RSF-backed Sudan opposition factions,” confirming Kenya’s open support for individuals politically aligned with the RSF — actors rejected by the Sudanese public. These three states formed what can only be described as a coalition of impunity: the UAE supplied the weapons, Chad enabled their delivery, and Kenya legitimized the perpetrators’ political surrogates.
Together, they were invited to shape Sudan’s future, while Sudan itself was left out. To the communities burying their dead in El Geneina, Nyala, El Fasher, and everywhere else in Sudan, the message was clear: truth can be rewritten, justice can be postponed, and sovereignty can be outsourced.
The “Third Civilian Track”: Reform in Name, Proxy in Practice
Perhaps the most cynical development at the London Conference was the elevation of the so-called “Third Civilian Track,” a donor-backed platform marketed as a pathway to democratic transition. In reality, it was a foreign-led project to repackage the same unelected political actors under new banners: from Forces of Freedom and Change (FFC)-central council, to Taqaddum, to Sumud, and whatever name comes next.
These figures were absent during the RSF’s assaults on civilians. They were silent during the massacres in Darfur and the siege of Khartoum, and they have never once called the RSF what it is: a terrorist militia. Their condemnations of violence are selective, and their language is sanitized for international donors. They speak not for Sudanese citizens but for the interests of those who fund their platforms.
Worse still, they have pushed for Chapter VII UN intervention. This move would place Sudan under foreign trusteeship and an assault on its sovereignty, denying its people the right to determine their future. This is not a democratic transition. It is a proxy-led redesign aimed at managing Sudan, not liberating it.
Sudanese citizens—those who suffered, resisted, and survived—were never consulted. Their voices were never heard in London. This “civilian track” is not a product of Sudanese will but of international engineering, and Sudan sees through it, loud and clear.
Conclusion: Justice Silenced But Not Defeated
What unfolded in London was not a humanitarian summit but a carefully staged production. One where the accused were celebrated, the victims erased, and Sudan’s sovereign government deliberately silenced. It was a conference designed not to confront atrocities but to manage their optics. Not to end the war but to reframe it in terms that are more comfortable for the powerful.
From the halls of the ICJ to the streets of El Geneina, El-Fasher, Khartoum, and the rest of the devastated cities in Sudan and the diaspora, the Sudanese people have made their position clear: they are not passive victims but active agents in the struggle for justice, dignity, and national sovereignty. But in London, their voice was excluded — and their sacrifice whitewashed beneath donor applause and political platitudes.
The real question is not whether Sudan was at the table—it’s why the world preferred to speak about Sudan without Sudan, why silence was more convenient than truth, and why appeasement was chosen over accountability.
However, the London Conference failed if it sought to bury Sudan’s case. Sudan is not a footnote. It is the headline. And its resistance—legal, civic, and military—continues with clarity and purpose.
In Part 2, we turn to the aftermath of the London Conference: the contradictions that shattered its credibility, the cracks within the donor coalition, the UAE’s backroom censorship campaign, and the global reaction that followed. The fight for Sudan’s future is far from over, and the world is now on notice.