Long read: coups, revolution and the internet in Sudan

6 December 2021

Sophia Lueneburg and Maren Sass

(Image courtesy of Unsplash)

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of InQuire Media

To understand the most recent coup in Sudan, one needs to look back at the previous coup of 2019. Then, General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan seized power from the dictator Omar al-Bashir, who himself had risen to power in a military coup in 1989. The ousting in 2019 came in the wake of a massive popular uprise demanding the end of al-Bashir's rule and a peaceful transition to democracy. It was followed by months of power struggles between key military and civilian leaders, which led to a power-sharing agreement between both sides.

This power-sharing model outlined a transitional government which would shift rule from military to civilian leadership by mid-November of this year, making way for elections by 2022. It was an uneasy alliance. The transitional government consisted of the Sovereignty Council of Sudan, headed by coup-leader General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, and was accompanied by a civilian cabinet, headed by Prime Minister Abdallah Hamdok. Not only was there internal strife between civilian and military adversaries over power, recognition and legitimacy, but there was also the looming threat to military officials: as the deadline for them to relinquish power drew nearer, they became increasingly exposed to prosecution for past crimes committed.

This is what set the stage for the military coup on 25 October 2021. Just days before being scheduled to surrender power to civilian counterparts, and after unsuccessful attempts in the weeks prior, General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan again seized full control of the state. He deposed civilian Prime Minister Abdallah Hamdok, along with several other senior cabinet members, and placed them under house arrest. In addition, he dissolved the Sovereignty Council and declared a state of emergency.

Finally, he issued orders to "shut down the internet services in all parts of the country", purportedly to "preserve the unity of the country" and protect "the dreams of the youth and the hopes of the nation".

These moves, he claimed, were to shield the democratic protest from political infighting. Yet among those arrested were cabinet members, heads of state media, and leading Sudanese advocates for democratic transition, such as Mohamed Nagi Al-Assam, members of the doctors’ union and vocal critic of the 2019 and 2021 coup.

International condemnation was swift to follow. In the days after the coup, the US halted 700 million USD in aid, while the World Bank froze another 2 billion USD development grants. The African Union suspended Sudan's membership and has been engaged in shuttle diplomacy, alongside the US, the UK, Norway and UN envoy Volker Perthes to reverse the coup.

Resistance has also come from the judicial sector, where Sudanese courts have ordered the internet lines be restored in two separate rulings. Authorities, however, have defied the rulings in reference to the October 25 orders. This is in spite of estimates that telecommunication companies are forfeiting some 6 billion USD profit a day with the outage, next to the tens of millions of dollars lost to companies and authorities.

However, the junta has faced its stiffest resistance on the streets. Back in 2019, public unrest had been a pivotal force both in overthrowing al-Bashir and in forcing the coup leaders to include civil participation in transitional rule. Tens of thousands had poured into the streets, many of them women and youth, and organized to sustain civil disobedience. After the coup on 25 October, the furious public took to the streets anew, with some neighbourhoods even erecting barricades to keep the patrolling military out.

Protests have been met with gunfire and teargas. In spite of this, and facing ongoing severed phone and internet lines, trade unions and other elements of civil society have continued to call strikes, with leaflets, oral calls, graffiti and text messages abroad. Thus, on 30 October, hundreds of thousands rallied for the pro-democratic "March of Millions", the largest coordinated demonstration since the coup. The security forces shot several protesters dead and wounded scores in response. Then, on 11 November, General Abdel-Fattah Burhan announced a new governing council that he would lead and promised elections by 2023. None of this, however, was able to deter the people for re-organizing for a follow-up "March of Millions" on 13 November and 17 November calling for the return of the transitional government.

Again, the severed communication lines have made it hard to assess what happened on the ground, but at the time this article was written, at least eight people were reported dead and 200 wounded after clashes with security forces on 13 November. After the following protest on November 17, reports emerged that security forces were shooting live rounds at protesters and journalists, with the clear intention to kill. Sixteen were killed, and over 100 injured. Days later, Prime Minister Hamdok appears to have been reinstated. But observers remain sceptical that this will bring the democratic transition back on track.

It would seem that the junta has a vested interest in keeping the Sudanese – and the rest of the world watching with mounting concern - in the dark. Considering the grave impact the loss of communication has on the ability to organize protest, it does make sense from the perspective of the coup leaders. This is, after all, their last chance to hold onto power, avoid prosecution for crimes committed in the previous coup, and escape closer international scrutiny for crimes committed now.

Shutting down the internet might seem like a less aggressive tactic to supress dissent than, say, deploying tanks. But it is a violation of human rights all the same. The United Nations define an internet shutdown as “all measures that intentionally prevent or disrupt access to, or dissemination of, information online”. While governments mostly shut down the internet with the intent of reducing protest and minimising mobilization, it can have serious consequences in other areas of people’s lives, such as health, work or education. From credit card payments to online services, checking emails or printing out homework, or accessing health files or records, most of areas of modern day to day lives are now digitalized. This year Facebook and its associated platforms went down for a several hours. The whole world quickly flew into a slightly sarcastic panic, as it realised its dependency on cute cat videos and hair tutorials. Imagine what shutting down the whole internet would do to a person’s life. Cutting the internet has serious consequences for people’s health, livelihood, education and wellbeing.

In addition, shutdowns restrict the right to freedom of expression and peaceful assembly and the freedom of association, which are protected under the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which was passed by the UN General Assembly, enforced in 1976 and ratified by Sudan in 1986. Add to this the huge economic and social costs that an internet failure entails, and severing communication lines hardly seems like a move made in the interest of the people, as dictators would often have the public believe.

Nor does it enforce peace – if even an a reluctant one: The UN warns that shutdowns lead to more violent conflict and unrest. But as we learned in 2011 during the Arab Spring, social media has also become a crucial medium of communication. Protesters can organize when and where to rally, and exchange information on which streets are most dangerous and to be avoided.

But the issue in Sudan is not just that the protesters cannot communicate with one another, they also cannot convey to the rest of the world what is really going on. Not only does this leave them more vulnerable to state violence, people also have a more difficult time rallying support among the diaspora abroad.

Imagine a map that shows the world at night. You can see which regions use the most electric lights, big bright cities, and the less illuminated, rural areas. Now imagine one of these bright areas going completely dark, vanishing off the map. This is what happens during an internet shutdown: a whole country simply vanishing from the digital face of the earth.

Twitter, Instagram and Facebook have been prominent platforms for spreading videos and tales of human right abuses, police brutality or situation reports on civil unrest. Citizens mobilizing during crisis use social media to communicate calls for action, protest routes and timelines. Independent journalists use internet platforms to report beyond official, state-sanctioned narratives. NGOs such as Amnesty International launch online petitions or rely on images from social media platforms to document and confirm conflict events. The world revolves around the internet, heads of states and governments know this. Severing connection to the internet can be seen as a direct attempt to limit free press, freedom of movement and thought, as well as hiding wrong-doings and human rights abuses.

During the protests in 2019 a young Sudanese woman, wearing a traditional white dress, climbed atop a parked car, pointed to the sky and held a speech, surrounded by fellow protesters, filming, photographing, posting. The image raced around the globe. International media picked up on the image and Alaa Salah, the women on the picture, became the face of what some hoped to be the “African Spring”. It would be reasonable for General Abdel Fattah al-Burhan to fear a renewal of such an iconic image and the power it could hold.

Social media and news were key factors driving the unrest that he used to seize power in 2019. But the mobilization efforts happening now and the continuity of conflicts all over the world, where internet shutdowns have been used, shows how discontent with governments does not disappear out of people’s minds by simply banning it from their screens. Shutting down the internet does not protect "the dreams of the youth and the hopes of the nation", it does the very opposite.