For more than two years, Sudan’s civil war has torn through every level of the state — its institutions, economy, and identity — leaving behind a country where neither peace nor victory appears attainable. The confrontation between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has long ceased to be a contest over political control. It has become an open-ended war of attrition, where technology and external interference have replaced diplomacy and national cohesion.
A War Rewired by Drones
At the heart of this new phase lies drone warfare — a technology that has transformed conflicts from Ukraine to Yemen, and now Sudan. What began as a struggle for the capital has evolved into a contest of endurance fought increasingly in the skies. In Khartoum, both sides now rely on fleets of imported and locally assembled drones to deliver blows from afar, avoiding direct engagements that once defined the early stages of the war.
The SAF, backed by Türkiye, has deployed Bayraktar TB2 and Akinci drones, as well as its own locally produced Safaroog model, designed for reconnaissance and one-way attack missions. The RSF, by contrast, has turned to Chinese-made FH-95 drones and guided munitions allegedly supplied through the United Arab Emirates — accusations Abu Dhabi denies. The result is a technological stalemate: each side possesses just enough capability to strike, but not enough to win.
The most devastating consequence of this drone race has been in Darfur. The RSF’s 18-month siege of El-Fasher, the last major SAF foothold in the region, has seen repeated strikes on markets, hospitals, mosques, and displacement centers. A September drone attack on a mosque killed roughly 70 people; another, weeks later, struck a camp for displaced civilians, killing at least 60. The United Nations’ Independent Fact-Finding Mission on Sudan has accused the RSF of using starvation as a weapon of war — denying food and medicine to besieged populations — and of committing atrocities including murder, torture, and sexual violence. RSF drones are currently attacking Khartoum International Airport.
Diplomacy in Ruins
Despite multiple mediation attempts, no credible peace process exists. The Jeddah-based talks led by the U.S. and Saudi Arabia have stalled repeatedly. In September 2025, the UAE, U.S., Egypt, and Saudi Arabia announced a new “roadmap” envisioning a ceasefire and nine-month transition to civilian rule. Yet that plan collapsed almost immediately: the SAF refused to engage in any process involving the UAE, citing its alleged support for the RSF. The RSF, in turn, declared a “parallel government,” formalising the de facto partition of the country.
This pattern is familiar. Sudan’s post-independence history is a cycle of temporary truces and aborted transitions — each peace agreement sowing the seeds of the next conflict. The 2019 power-sharing deal that followed Omar al-Bashir’s fall was no exception: it collapsed under the weight of mutual distrust between the army and the RSF. Both forces, deeply entrenched in Sudan’s commercial networks, are unwilling to surrender their economic fiefdoms or integrate into a single command.
External Actors and Internal Decay
The war’s complexity lies not only in internal rivalries but also in the competing interests of external powers. Türkiye and Egypt have aligned, albeit uneasily, with the SAF; the UAE is accused of backing the RSF to expand its regional influence; and Russia’s Wagner-linked networks have supplied arms and logistical support to both sides at different points. These interventions have blurred the line between domestic and proxy warfare.
Meanwhile, Port Sudan — the only functioning seat of the recognized government — has become a lifeboat for what remains of the state. Yet even there, authority is thin. Ministries operate in name, salaries go unpaid, and most civil services have ceased to function. Beyond Port Sudan, vast territories are ruled by local militias, tribal authorities, or self-proclaimed “administrations” allied to one side or the other. The humanitarian toll is staggering: more than 10 million people displaced, famine looming in Darfur and Kordofan, and a generation of children cut off from education and healthcare.
A Fragmented Future
The parallels to Libya and Somalia are increasingly evident. Both countries, like Sudan, experienced the collapse of central authority followed by the emergence of overlapping militias and rival governments. Sudan’s trajectory now points unmistakably in the same direction: a patchwork of semi-autonomous zones, each sustained by its own external patron. The SAF’s influence remains strongest in the east and north, anchored around Port Sudan; the RSF dominates Darfur and parts of Kordofan; tribal militias and local commanders fill the vacuum in between.
In this emerging order, the idea of a unitary Sudanese state is hard to imagine. Each faction controls its own customs points, levies its own taxes, and trades directly with neighboring countries. The longer this continues, the more institutionalized the fragmentation becomes. What was once a civil war is morphing into a geography of competing sovereignties.
The Limits of Technology
If drones have made this war more lethal, they have also made it more stagnant. Unlike the conventional offensives of the early conflict, drone warfare allows each side to inflict pain without incurring the risks of territorial engagement. This has entrenched a kind of low-cost perpetual warfare — destructive enough to prevent reconstruction, but sustainable enough to continue indefinitely.
In many respects, Sudan’s war now mirrors the dynamics of 21st-century conflicts elsewhere: a proliferation of cheap military technologies and foreign supply chains enabling violence to persist long after political objectives have faded. Both the SAF and RSF remain tactically innovative but strategically exhausted — unable to achieve decisive victory, yet unwilling to negotiate from weakness.
A State Beyond Repair
As the conflict enters its third year, what remains of Sudan increasingly resembles a state in name only. The institutions that once tied its vast territory together — the bureaucracy, judiciary, and national army — have been hollowed out or divided among rival factions. Regional and ethnic fragmentation, once a symptom of Sudan’s instability, has now become its organizing principle.
With the passage of time, the cycle of violence is not diminishing but intensifying, fed by new technologies and old grievances. Drones have given both sides reach, but not purpose. Diplomacy has given the appearance of engagement, but not resolution.For now, Sudan remains a cautionary tale for the region and the world: a country where technology and geopolitics have conspired to turn civil war into a permanent condition, and where putting Humpty-Dumpty back together again may no longer be possible.
