On 22 May, the US State Department announced a determination that the Sudanese army had used chemical weapons in the current civil war. The announcement came with no details about which chemical agents were used by the army, or where and at what scale, except that such weapons were deployed in 2024.
This is not the first time that allegations of chemical weapons usage in Sudan have been raised. Amnesty International disclosed that brutal military attacks have destroyed or devastated more than 170 villages in the isolated Jebel Marra area of Darfur since the beginning of 2016. At least 30 of these attacks allegedly included chemical weapons. Halgah, a woman in her twenties, recalled how a bomb fell on her village, releasing toxic smoke. Six months later, she and her baby were still suffering from the effects: “When [the bomb] landed, there was some flames and then dark smoke… Immediately it caused vomiting and dizzying… My skin is not normal. I still have headaches, even after I took the medicine… The baby is not recovering… he is swollen… he has blisters and wounds… they said he would get better… but it is not working.”
Once seen as a purely national tragedy, Sudan is now emerging as a test case for the evolving global order.
In other villages, caregivers counted dozens showing ghastly symptoms. As AfricaNews reported: “The only difference between 2004 and what is happening in Darfur [...] is the world has stopped watching. The abuses which have been perpetrated by the Sudanese government on the civilian population are as bad as they were in 2004. And we need to have the sort of international engagement in Sudan that the level of this crisis actually requires.”
While no solid evidence of chemical weapons usage in Sudan has been made public so far, in May the United States invoked the Chemical and Biological Weapons Control and Warfare Elimination Act to sanction the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF). As a result, all defence-related exports were suspended, US financial support to Sudan’s transitional institutions was frozen, and existing asset freezes and visa bans were reinforced against top military figures, including General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan.
These measures had been framed as a line in the sand, and a demonstration that breaches of international law would carry serious consequences. In practice though, they may serve more to ratify existing power structures than to overturn them. The SAF remains firmly in its place, not just militarily but politically and economically. Its control of Port Sudan, the country's principal window on the Red Sea and main entry point for international humanitarian assistance, gives it strategic leverage far beyond fighting on land.
The Sudanese government says the allegations are baseless, amounting to “political blackmail and distortion of the facts regarding the situation in Sudan”. Aid convoys, though, stall at checkpoints; airstrikes continue; and the tentacles of war, funded through gold smuggling and regional support from neighbouring countries, remain deeply rooted.
Significantly, as Washington published its declaration, several international reactions followed. The United Kingdom, for instance, expressed concern and urged Sudan to comply with the Chemical Weapons Convention’s provisions.
Where the use of chemical weapons once triggered swift international isolation, today, it does not.
Yet not all global powers reacted. Beijing offered no statement. No press release. No vote in international bodies. That silence is not indifference though, it's pragmatism. Port Sudan is a key point in China's Belt and Road Initiative, as its ports and logistics corridors link East Africa to Europe, the Gulf and China. For China, the SAF, with its firm grip on territory and institutions, is a predictable, yet unpleasant, partner.
This raises difficult questions about the effectiveness of Western sanctions in an increasingly mutipolar global system. As America cuts off military exports and assistance, Chinese state-owned companies easily bridge the gap with infrastructure, development loans, and political cover. And Beijing’s offers do not come with conditions on human rights or governance, which is exactly why they are so attractive to embattled regimes such as the SAF.
The implications are twofold. First, instead of isolating the SAF, these sanctions may accelerate regional realignment with China and other non-Western powers. Second, other than suffering war, a UN-declared famine (at present, the only UN-declared famine globally), and internal and external displacement, the Sudanese civilian population has become collateral damage in a clear geostrategic game. To most of the survivors in Jebel Marra, the impact of sanctions is indeed abstract and distant. The pain they feel on their skin and in their stomachs is real.
It is not the SAF generals who starve, it is civilians who suffer.
Once seen as a purely national tragedy, Sudan is now emerging as a test case for the evolving global order. Where the use of chemical weapons once triggered swift international isolation, today, it does not. Instead, Sudan’s conflict is revealing the limits of moral authority in a world where major powers pursue competing strategic interests. In this context, Port Sudan where the Sudanese government holds sway, represents more than just a harbour. It is a symbol of whose economic system prevails, whose diplomacy predominates, and whose silence speaks volumes. The United States may have drawn a line using sanctions against the Sudanese government, but others are taking the key to Africa’s Red Sea trade gateway. Meanwhile, the isolated victims struggle to be heard beyond smoke-filled villages.
