London Conference on Sudan – Part 2

By Sabah Al-Makki

How a summit meant to address Sudan’s crisis became a platform for its enablers—and a test of international justice.

The London Conference Fallout: Justice Derailed; Influence Amplified
In Part 1 of this exposé, we unveiled the disturbing duality facing Sudan: on the one hand, a sovereign nation standing before the International Court of Justice(ICJ) in The Hague, presenting compelling evidence against the United Arab Emirates(UAE) for complicity in genocide; on the other, a diplomatic stage in London where the accused were applauded, the complicit were protected, and Sudan’s legitimate government was deliberately silenced.
We also exposed the carefully orchestrated rollout of the so-called “Third Civilian Track”—a donor-backed initiative to bypass Sudanese sovereignty by propping up unelected figures. Many of these individuals are well known to the Sudanese public as donor-aligned proxy civilians, cycling through banners such as the Forces of Freedom and Change (FFC)-Central Council, Taqaddum, and Sumud. These groups have consistently been headed by the resigned Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok. Most Sudanese people see them as aligned with the agendas of foreign sponsors rather than national aspirations. Absent during Sudan’s darkest hours—when Khartoum was under siege and El Geneina was massacred—these actors have since been elevated, without a public mandate, as political alternatives. Marketed as a civilian-led transition, this was, in truth, a foreign-engineered project draped in the language of democracy.
In London, under the banner of humanitarianism, diplomacy was weaponized. Sudan’s seat was left empty, while those implicated in its devastation were handed microphones and medals. The result? A peace process built on exclusion, distortion, and erasure.
This second part of the article peels back the remaining layers—unpacking the collapse of the London Conference, the fractures between its co-sponsors, the UAE’s quiet censorship of truth, and the broader question now confronting the international system:
Can peace be forged by silencing the sovereign? And what happens when justice itself becomes negotiable?

A Summit of Hypocrisy
Sudan’s official government—the body defending national sovereignty against the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), the UAE-backed militia—was not simply sidelined. It was erased. Meanwhile, the UAE, named in Sudan’s ICJ filing for its role in aiding genocide, was not only invited but welcomed as a humanitarian stakeholder. Chad and Kenya, despite evidence implicating them in supporting RSF operations, were cast as regional stabilizers.
The central irony was glaring: a summit held in Sudan’s name, without Sudan. The exclusion of the Sudanese government drew harsh condemnation from its legal delegation, civil societies, critics, and regional allies. Critics asked: How can those accused of fueling the war be invited to shape Sudan’s future while the victims are locked out? Why is the UK selling weapons to the UAE while hosting a summit on Sudan’s humanitarian collapse?
UK Foreign Secretary David Lammy defended the inclusion of all actors:
“Any sustainable peace process requires support from all regional actors and beyond.” Translation: Even those accused of enabling war crimes deserve a seat at the table.
This was not diplomacy. It was complicity.
What kind of justice silences the sovereign and applauds the accused?

A Summit Built on Contradictions, Undone by Censorship and Complicity

Despite over $1 billion in pledges from Western donors, the London Conference collapsed under its contradictions.
Emirati officials reportedly objected to UN language referencing “foreign aid flows” to the RSF militia, wording they believed too directly implicated Abu Dhabi. They pressured organizers to replace it with vague terms like “regional assistance,” designed to blur responsibility. Despite being named in Sudan’s ICJ filing, the UAE demanded total erasure: no reference, implication, or accountability. One diplomat described the pressure campaign as “coordinated and unrelenting.” And the organizers conceded.

At the heart of the diplomatic breakdown was a polarizing narrative advanced by the UAE, with support from several EU member states, aiming to equate the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) with the RSF militia, portraying both equally responsible actors in the conflict. This framing was firmly rejected by Egypt, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia, who refused to legitimize a militia formally accused of genocide or to accept the marginalization of Sudan’s national army from any future political process. Consequently, the summit failed to produce a final communiqué, and the proposed “contact group” never existed. Instead, the divisions, centered around recognizing or excluding the SAF, exposed deep and irreconcilable fractures between Egypt, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia on one side, and the UAE alongside key European actors on the other.
The timing of this controversy was telling while Sudan sought accountability through legal channels, international partners were working simultaneously to blur the distinctions underpinning its case.

The outcome? A hollowed-out communiqué and no joint statement—not because of disagreements over aid, but because political pressure hijacked the process. This was not diplomacy. It was censorship and complicity, weaponized by those with the most to hide.

By controlling the narrative, the UAE shielded itself from scrutiny and sanitized its role from the official record—even as damning evidence continued to build. The UAE used its influence to suffocate the facts in a world where silence equals impunity. And once again, the international system let it happen.

The Illusion of Peace and Diplomacy by Deception

What happened in London was never about peace, nor Sudan. It was about control. The so-called summit wasn’t a forum for justice but a geopolitical performance: a stage built to reward those who helped destroy Sudan while pushing aside those fighting to hold it together. Maps were redrawn in backrooms, not by the will of the people. War profiteers were handed microphones; survivors were pushed to the margins.
The cries from The Hague—where Sudan seeks justice—were drowned out by a polished fog of pledges and press releases. They called it a humanitarian gathering. But where were the victims? Where was Darfur? Where were the Masalit? Where was Sudan itself?
There was no mention of genocide, no seat for Sudan’s legal delegation, and no voice for those living under siege, displacement, and massacre. Instead, those who armed the RSF militia were celebrated as donors. Those who fueled the bloodshed were rebranded as peace partners, and those who resisted- the ones still resisting—were erased.
But Sudan will not be ruled from conference halls. It will not be managed by donor agendas or redrawn in foreign capitals. It will not be led by those whose hands are stained with its suffering. From European courtrooms to the scarred streets of Sudan—and across the Sudanese diaspora—voices are rising. They are not asking for sympathy; they are demanding sovereignty. They are not waiting to be spoken for—they are speaking. Not for symbolic peace but for justice that bites. Not for a place in someone else’s vision but for a future of their own making.
This is not just resistance. It is a return. It is the refusal to be erased. It is a nation reclaiming what is rightfully its own.
While summits are staged, Sudanese families bury their dead. While communiqués collapse, resistance rises, and while others try to speak for Sudan, Sudan speaks for itself.

World Reaction: A Conference Undone by Exclusion, Division, and Diplomatic Blindness
The collapse of the London Conference sparked widespread criticism across international media and civil societies. In Middle East Eye’s article, “London Conference on Sudan ends in diplomatic flop as RSF declares parallel government” (17 April 2025), the summit was condemned as a failure, held without Sudan’s presence while giving space to those accused of fueling the war. The Guardian’s piece, “UK conference on Sudan fails to set up contact group for ceasefire talks” (16 April 2025), reported the breakdown of talks amid disagreements between Arab powers and noted the absence of any reference to civilian protection or genocide. Reuters, in “No final agreement at London Sudan conference, with Arab powers at odds” (16 April 2025), highlighted the political rift, particularly the UAE’s and Egypt’s clashing agendas, which derailed the formation of a unified position on Sudan.
Across all three reports, a common theme emerged: the UK was criticized for enabling a process that legitimized perpetrators, sidelined victims, and delivered no concrete outcome. What was billed as a humanitarian summit became a theatre of impunity.

A Final Word to Western Policymakers: Sudan Is Not Yours to Manage
Sudan is not a sandbox for foreign experiments, a donor pet project, or a chessboard for regional influence. It is a sovereign nation, bleeding from the wounds of foreign interference, betrayal, and war profiteering. If the West seeks peace in Sudan, it must begin with humility: step aside, listen, and respect the people’s will. Stop arming the arsonists. Stop applauding the accused. Stop dictating to the people of Sudan who have paid for their freedom in blood. Do not whitewash genocide with diplomacy, and do not trade justice for press conferences and pledges. Sudan remembers—and history will not forget those who stood by or stood in its way. This is not the end of Sudan’s story. It is the beginning of its return—on its terms, in its voice, and by its people.