Pakistan, explained.
Displaced people at a shelter in May after they were evacuated by the Sudanese army in Omdurman, Sudan (Ebrahim Hamid/AFP via Getty Images)
The generals have turned away from the West – and went East.
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Another Quad, with a plan that brings Sudan no closer to peaceAnother Quad, with a plan that brings Sudan no closer to peace
As General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan stepped onto the stage in Atbara, the crowd applauded: Sudan’s armed forces, he claimed, were “ready for negotiations to restore the country’s dignity and unity.”
For a moment, everyone wanted to believe him, as the de facto leader of Sudan. After nearly two years of war, ruined cities, broken families, and a country to rebuild, even the promise of peace sounds like salvation. But hope is fragile in Sudan, and behind the language of oneness there still seems is an agenda: to stall, to strengthen, and to look east for allies.
Sudan’s army chief General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan in April (AFP via Getty Images)
Just weeks earlier, the world, led by the United States, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Egypt had laid out a course of action. Their “Quad” plan called for three months of ceasefire to deliver humanitarian aid, followed by nine months of transition to civilian rule. It outlined fair treatment between the two sides and advocated for the exclusion of Islamist forces from power.
To diplomats, it was the best chance at peace thus far. To Burhan, it was an insult.
His government turned down the proposal as foreign intervention, calling it “disrespecting Sudan’s sovereignty”. The army generals were offended by being placed on an equal footing with the militias they call nothing but rebels. Burhan himself promised to keep fighting until all cities and all streets of Sudanese ground were under the control of the army.
Beneath the reaction was something deeper: survival. This Quad proposal cuts away the army’s very reason to exist – its belief that it embodies the state, that it cannot share power, and that accepting the plan would mean a future in which the generals are no longer in charge.
So Burhan turned away from the West – and went toward the East.
More than seven million Sudanese have been displaced and generals continue to argue “dignity” and “sovereignty” on government television, as if words can stop famine
Türkiye and Pakistan, specifically, both offered what Burhan values most – weapons, capital, and legitimacy without humiliating questions of democracy.
In July, Sudan’s state defense company attended Türkiye’s weapons fair in Istanbul, hawking new military deals. A short time later, Sudan’s armed forces unveiled a Turkish-made Safrouq drone, slicing silently through Sudanese skies. Ankara’s support extends beyond arms: its diplomats meet regularly with Sudanese officials, and its media advisors now echo Sudan’s nationalist messaging on state television. For Türkiye, Sudan is a gateway, a foothold on the Red Sea. To Burhan, Türkiye is security, a powerful ally who talks of drones and weapons.
Pakistan soon followed. In August, Sudan was reported to be signing a $1.5 billion deal with Islamabad for drones, fighter planes, and armoured vehicles. Pakistan has also committed to investments in Port Sudan and farm projects, providing economic lifelines to complement the weaponry supply. Burhan offers these new ties as proof that Sudan doesn’t need Western “helpers”.
“Our partners respect our independence,” Burhan asserts – words that elicit applause in government chambers in Port Sudan, and silence in the crowded refugee camps.
On the ground, the war never seems to end.
Entire neighbourhoods are turned into dust. Drone strikes have torn through camps, hospitals and mosques. Families bury their dead in shallow sand when the bombs pause. More than seven million Sudanese have been displaced; cholera is erupting in the camps. And generals continue to argue “dignity” and “sovereignty” on government television, as if words can stop famine.
To Burhan, “negotiations” are more appearance than peace. Every speech buys him time and every entanglement with Ankara or Islamabad renders him more secure. He knows what the world is waiting to hear, “dialogue,” “unity,” and “nationhood”, and he carefully doles them out accordingly. To the world, it will sound like hope. To his base, it will sound like resistance. And while both listen for what they need to, Sudan still burns.
About the author
Matteo Boccia
Matteo Boccia has worked at the European Commission and within international trade associations, where he focused on geoeconomic and security issues in the Middle East and North Africa region.
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