Sudan’s political fragility rooted in absence of civil service policy to uphold institutional scaffolding (1-2)
By Mohamed Sulieman al-Shazly
The British-influenced tradition that once defined Sudan’s civil service is beyond full retrieval. In its heyday, it was characterised by punctuality, decorum, and reverence for time. Offices opened with precision, correspondence was handled with care, and even minor tardiness could threaten a career. Punctuality wasn’t just a habit — it was an honour, a signal that public duty mattered, and time, like the people it served, deserved respect.
When I was a boy, I used to set my watch by the arrivals and departures of my cousin, who held a mid-ranking position at the Civil Service Bureau. Dressed in the Sudanese white tobe, she embodied the elegance and timeless beauty of her culture. The pristine, flowing fabric draped over her figure, symbolising dignity, tradition, and pride. The white tobe, deeply rooted in Sudanese identity, connected her to her heritage and the values that shaped her. As she moved, the fabric seemed to tell a story of Sudan’s rich history and the strength of its people, especially the women who proudly wear it.
Among the female civil servants of Sudan, she stood as one of many who, with quiet dedication, worked to shape the country’s future — embodying the sense of responsibility that came with their roles in public service. Her adherence to strict punctuality was the hallmark of her professionalism. Always on time, she believed that every moment mattered in serving her country, demonstrating a commitment not only to her work but to the values of discipline and respect that defined the character of all Sudanese civil servants at that time — a dedication that, sadly, has since faded.
Likewise, those near Khartoum’s railway station would set their clocks to the rhythm of the trains. “The Atbara train is arriving,” or “The Port Sudan train is leaving,” were common phrases, and the punctuality of the trains reflected the culture’s deep respect for time. People adjusted their watches to match the exact timing of arrivals and departures, making punctuality an essential part of daily life. That commitment, once shared by both the trains and the people, has since faded. Those days of unwavering punctuality may never return.
Policy is often seen as the domain of politicians, but no strategy, however visionary, can take shape without the steady hand of the civil service. Far from being mere implementers of political decisions, civil servants play a critical role in shaping policy itself — providing analysis, continuity, and practical judgement that guide governments towards realistic and sustainable goals. In well-functioning states, they are the institutional memory and quiet architects behind the scenes, ensuring that national priorities survive the turbulence of political change.
The strength of this role lies in the civil service’s neutrality. A professional bureaucracy does not concern itself with who occupies the presidential palace or the prime minister’s office, nor whether power shifts through elections or coups. Its allegiance is not to individuals or parties, but to the enduring interests of the state. This indifference to politics is not apathy — it is a fundamental safeguard of good governance. It allows the civil service to offer consistency where politics brings volatility, and stability where regimes come and go.
But institutions are only as strong as the people within them. A resilient civil service depends on a cadre of well-trained, competent professionals — individuals who understand not only the machinery of government but also the broader public good. Training and capacity-building are not optional extras; they are essential to ensuring that civil servants can act with competence, integrity, and impartiality. When neglected, the consequences are predictable: sluggish bureaucracies, inconsistent policy, and eroded public trust.
Such professionalism, however, does not happen by chance. It requires investment in meritocratic recruitment, continuous development, and legal protections that shield civil servants from political interference. Without these safeguards, the civil service may experience significant changes in personnel with each new administration.
A strong civil service does not serve presidents or prime ministers; it serves the public. And in places where politics is unstable and power fleeting, the quiet, principled persistence of the bureaucracy may be the only thing that endures.
Historically, the civil service is ancient, evolving from the need for administrative structures in early political systems. Its evolution is defined by the refinement of its concept and the codification of values and laws guiding its function.
However, its journey has been marked by challenges, especially politicisation, which has sometimes turned it from a driver of progress into a barrier to development. The debate over whether the civil service remains professional or becomes politically compromised is central to contemporary administrative thought. A meritocratic civil service, built on competence and integrity, is far more effective than one tainted by cronyism and political allegiance.
In my view, the cry of leader Ismail al-Azhari, calling for independence with the slogan ‘Liberation, not reconstruction’, marked the first moment that decisively extinguished the enthusiasm of our civil servants.
For Sudan, rebuilding its civil service is more than just a policy choice — it is a crucial step towards reinventing our homeland, rebuilding trust in future governments, and ensuring that essential services reach those who need them most. Only through a professional, competent, and well-trained civil service can the political goals of any government or leader — regardless of the type of leadership — be effectively realised, benefiting all sectors of society.
Not long ago, our civil service stood as a noble institution, carrying the flame of Sudanese brilliance and potential. Though initially designed to serve imperial interests, it became a remarkable achievement in the Middle East and Africa.
The story of Sudan’s civil service is, to me, one of the most poignant reflections of our nation’s rise, fall, and persistent yearning for dignity. The Sudanese community watched it evolve — from a borrowed instrument of empire to a proud engine of national purpose, and then to its current broken state. Its journey mirrors our own: full of promise, battered by politics.
In its prime, our civil service embodied a palpable sense of purpose. Civil servants — selected through rigorous exams, trained with care — were not mere functionaries; they were nation-builders, respected both at home and abroad. I grew up admiring these individuals, whose pressed shirts, trousers, tobes and measured words spoke of a deeper truth: that good governance begins not with grand speeches, but with punctuality, precision, and integrity. The “old boys” and the “matriarchs of government”, moulded in British-inspired institutions, shared a unique bond of camaraderie and discipline that profoundly shaped the nation’s governance, time and again to its benefit.
However, that culture has eroded. Today, many offices open late, delays are routine, and indifference hangs in the air. Somewhere along the way, we lost our way. What followed was not a sudden collapse, but a slow corrosion. With each political shift came patronage, where loyalty was elevated over competence. Our civil service, once a sanctuary for the most capable among us, became a battleground of competing interests. I watched as merit was discarded, professionalism drained from institutions, and public trust withered. The machine that once ran with quiet efficiency began to falter, burdened by neglect, political meddling, and appointments of widely recognised unqualified individuals.
It is a deeply sorrowful and shameful reality that we are destroying an invaluable legacy — one granted to us in a way others were not fortunate enough to experience — and doing so with reckless indifference and blind ignorance. Sudanese civil servants were not only tasked with managing our country’s affairs; they played a pivotal role in establishing municipal and service departments across several nations, particularly in Saudi Arabia and the Gulf region. Through their work and vision, they helped lay the foundation for modern infrastructure in these nations.
(mohsulieman@gmail.com)
