Tribalism and the Tribe in Sudan After the April 15 War

By Mona Abu Zaid

Tribalism Between Arab and African Thought

In his book “The Tribe and Tribalism: Identities of Postmodernity,” Saudi thinker Abdullah Al-Ghathami draws a critical distinction between two concepts: the tribe as a social, cultural, and economic structure—neutral in itself and historically necessary in certain contexts—and tribalism as a negative construct rooted in bias, exclusion, and dualistic identity. Under this latter framework, identity ceases to be a simple affiliation and instead becomes a mindset and behavioral code that fosters intolerance and discrimination against others.

Al-Ghathami situates tribalism within what he terms “postmodern identities,” arguing that the retreat or failure of the modernist project to achieve justice and social rationality has led to the resurgence of primordial affiliations—tribal, ethnic, and otherwise—as sources of security and belonging in a rapidly shifting world.

For Al-Ghathami, the distinction between tribe and tribalism is decisive. The former is a natural and neutral social formation; the latter is a politicized and exclusionary term. Identity, in his view, is not fixed but culturally produced—shaped by power, history, and social practice. Human relationships become distorted when reduced to a rigid dichotomy of “us” and “them.” He does not attack the tribe as such, but rather critiques tribalism as a mentality that transforms belonging into a tool of discrimination and closure. Its rise, he contends, reflects the shortcomings of modernity in establishing just and rational institutions capable of transcending primordial divides.

The tribe, historically, functioned as a social safety net—built on solidarity, mutual support, and familial and economic ties. In traditional societies, it provided protection in times of hardship and ensured relatively equitable resource distribution within the group. Tribalism, by contrast, is not mere affiliation but a pattern of preferential loyalty. When public office or privilege is allocated on the basis of tribal allegiance rather than merit, the tribe shifts from a social structure to a discriminatory instrument.

Sudanese political thinker Francis Mading Deng, born in the contested region of Abyei between North and South Sudan, has long argued that Sudan’s crisis is not simply a struggle for power between leaders or militias. It is a deeper conflict rooted in the state’s failure to recognize and manage its rich social diversity—tribal, ethnic, and religious alike. This failure, he maintains, is partly the legacy of colonial governance and a centralized postcolonial state that never fully acknowledged local realities nor built genuine policies for diversity management.

In his essay “The Dangers of Tribalism in Sudan,” Deng stresses that tribal or ethnic affiliation in itself is a natural and legitimate form of social identification. Tribalism, however—when expressed as extreme bias and exclusion—becomes corrosive and destructive. It undermines justice, equality, and good governance. Such discrimination is neither hereditary nor inevitable; it is cultivated through socialization and political manipulation. Poorly managed diversity, Deng warns, can transform identity from a source of strength into a weapon against national unity.

Tribalism in Sudan’s Hybrid Social Thought

In “Sudan: The Historical Dilemma and Prospects for the Future,” prominent Sudanese thinker Mohamed Abu Al-Qasim Haj Hamad offers a penetrating critique of how tribal and ethnic divisions have persisted within Sudan’s political fabric. Rather than dissolving into a unifying national identity, these affiliations have continued to shape social and political relations, undermining the notion of shared citizenship.

Sudan, situated at the crossroads of African, Arab, Christian, and Islamic civilizations, failed—he argues—to synthesize these diverse strands into a cohesive national project. As a result, tribal and ethnic loyalties have often proven stronger than allegiance to the state itself. The problem, in his view, is not tribal existence but the absence of a reimagined national identity built on equal citizenship.

Similarly, political scientist Atta El-Battahani, in “The Crisis of Governance in Sudan: A Crisis of Hegemony or a Hegemony of Crisis?” situates tribal dynamics within a broader structural analysis of power. Sudan’s governance crisis, he argues, is fundamentally structural, marked by systemic inequality among its major social components. Tribal affiliation has frequently been instrumentalized by political elites as a mechanism of dominance in their struggle over the state. Thus, tribal divisions are not merely cultural phenomena but are embedded in patterns of power distribution and institutional fragility.

The Tribe Is Not New to Politics

In Sudan, the tribal entity extends beyond a conventional social unit. It is a historical fabric linking individuals to family, community, land, and resources—providing security and identity in uncertain times. Yet in recent decades, the line separating tribe from tribalism has grown increasingly sharp and painful.

The intellectual readings above converge on a common insight: the challenge is not the tribe itself, but its politicization and the state’s failure to build an inclusive identity capable of transcending inherited divisions. Tribalism in Sudan is less a relic of the past than a mirror of present dysfunction. Wherever institutions fail to safeguard justice, tribal loyalties reemerge in resource allocation, employment, decision-making, and everyday relations—reminding us that the path to nationhood begins not with erasing affiliations but with understanding and reframing them.

The war that erupted on April 15 was not merely a clash of arms in a weary capital. It was, at its core, a moment of revelation—the exposure of the state, of society, and of the long-deferred question: Who are we when the state disappears?

When law receded and institutions collapsed, national identity alone no longer provided protection from fear. The tribe stepped forward—not as nostalgia for the past, but as the last remaining structure of social certainty amid chaos. The critical question emerged: did the tribe return because it is stronger than the state, or because it had long been marginalized, only to fill the vacuum when the center fell?

Tribalism did not arise with this war. During the Turco-Egyptian era and later under Anglo-Egyptian rule, tribes were treated as administrative units within systems of indirect governance. Boundaries were drawn, chiefs confirmed, and tribal structures integrated into taxation and security apparatuses—not out of respect for their social logic, but as cost-effective tools of rule.

After independence, the anticipated rupture with this legacy never materialized. The national state inherited tribal structures without redefining its relationship to them. At times it portrayed them as obstacles to modernity; at others it mobilized them for electoral or military ends, particularly in peripheral regions. Sudan thus remained suspended in a fragile middle ground—neither a fully realized modern state nor a stable traditional order.

After April: What Changed—The Tribe or the State?

Post-war Sudan did not witness the return of the tribe so much as the disappearance of the state. Justice faltered; the rule of law eroded. In that vacuum, the tribe assumed roles of protection, mobilization, negotiation—and sometimes violence. This was not a regression into primitivism but a failure of modernization. The tribe is not the state’s opposite; it is, in many respects, its deferred casualty.

Some Sudanese intellectuals resist focusing exclusively on tribal dynamics. Blood, they argue, does not flow spontaneously—it is made to flow. Tribal fervor does not ignite itself; it is lit by those who benefit from its flames. Political elites have sharpened and weaponized social divisions, using them to maintain power in lieu of building a viable nation-state. In this sense, the state has not been entirely absent—it has been present in more insidious ways, arming one side while claiming neutrality and fragmenting the national space into competing loyalties.

Development Versus the Tribal Political Economy

Others contend that the crisis is not solely about identity but about political economy. Tribal structures have expanded not because of romantic attachment to the past, but because contemporary state policies entered rural life through taxation rather than services, coercion rather than development. Mismanagement of land and water resources intensified competition in increasingly narrow arenas, where survival often depended on arms rather than law.

In such conditions, tribal affiliation becomes less a cultural choice than a survival strategy. The tribe in Sudan is not the origin of tragedy but its reflection—not the ghost of backwardness but the byproduct of uneven modernization. When citizenship fails to deliver justice, people return to the certainties of name, blood, and land.

Tribalism cannot be defeated by moral denunciation, social stigmatization, or force alone. The only viable path lies in building a state that does not compel citizens to seek refuge in lineage.

Yet even amid war’s brutality, moments of transcendence emerged: mixed neighborhoods protecting residents regardless of origin, cross-tribal relief initiatives, and small solidarity networks resisting the logic of exclusion. These glimpses suggest that tribalism is not destiny. Sudanese society retains the latent capacity to imagine broader belonging—if justice and political will align.

Conflicts do not erupt because people inherently hate one another; they explode when land, water, schools, and hospitals vanish. In Rwanda, reconciliation was pursued not only through courts but through equitable development. In Malaysia, balanced economic policies mitigated ethnic tensions by linking justice to stability. Development does not erase identity—but it disarms it.

The pressing question, therefore, is not what the war has done to the tribe, but what Sudan will do with the tribe after the war. It may remain a vessel for renewed conflict—or be reinterpreted as a social component requiring deep political restructuring rather than facile demonization. The tribe will not disappear, but its function can evolve: from trench of war to repository of social memory.

Perhaps then the question will shift—from “Which tribe are you from?” to “What kind of nation do we seek to build?” Only then will citizens no longer be compelled to shelter behind ancestry in order to secure their right to live.