The NCP, once the iron-fisted regime of Omar al-Bashir, is maneuvering quietly within the grim confines of Sudan’s civil strife. With alliances almost insidiously tucked into military uniforms, they’re backing the state’s relentless offensive against the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF). A sense of urgency pulses through their veins, sensing perhaps a new dawn.
In a clandestine conversation held in a concealed northern hideout, NCP chair Ahmed Haroun—bearing the haunting legacy of an International Criminal Court indictment—spoke candidly of the army’s future. “We’ll find our way back—through ballots, not bullets,” he suggested. But, did he mean it? “The Western model isn’t practical here.”
The heart-wrenching civil war, stretching into a third harrowing year, has claimed tens of thousands of lives, with over 10 million displaced amid the chaos. The United Nations brands it the world’s gravest humanitarian catastrophe.
While the RSF clutches territories in Darfur and the south, the Sudanese army is clawing back control. Insiders from military and NCP circles admit that without NCP-aligned fighters, those victories might have remained elusive. Yet, public acknowledgments are sparse. Are these whispers the mere wind of rumor, or truth’s gentle echo?
Despite outlaw status, the NCP’s tendrils stretch across military and bureaucratic landscapes, securing positions in the cabinet of technocratic Prime Minister Kamil Idris. It’s whispered that up to 3,000 NCP fighters have emerged, mobilizing tens of thousands more—details found in a supposedly secret document.
Haroun, who made a dramatic escape from confinement as war erupted, claims no direct command over these troops, but lets slip, “It’s no secret we support the army to ensure our survival.” His words hang thick in the air.
On the battleground, the elite al-Baraa Ibn Malik brigade is a formidable presence, pivotal in breaking RSF holdouts around Khartoum, wielding artillery and drone technology. Commander Owais Ghanim, thrice wounded, rebuffs allegations of unlawful killings, maintaining, “We’re here not for NCP’s reign, but for future democratic arenas.”
Gen. Abdel Fattah al-Burhan, the army chief, publicly disavows any NCP return to power, yet critics argue that he’s caught in a web spun with the NCP’s manpower and regional liaisons. Word is that the NCP has wooed Iran, Qatar, and Türkiye for arms—a bold yet precarious gambit.
However, such alliances teeter on diplomacy’s edge. The army’s recent diplomatic severance with the UAE, accusing it of RSF affiliations, adds tension. Washington, ever skeptical, observes the NCP’s ascent with wary eyes. Could this resurgence unravel the fragile hopes for democracy?
Ahmed Haroun’s conviction lingers: “We must develop our own model. The army’s permanence is a shield until threats truly vanish.”
As Sudan teeters on the cusp of yet another historical chapter, one wonders—can the strings of power ever truly be severed from their oldest puppeteers?
