From the Platform
Yasser Al-Fadni
London Discusses the Funeral Without Knowing Who Died!
On the anniversary of hell breaking loose upon Sudanese soil, the world gathered in London—not to stop the war, but to legalize the tragedy and distribute aid over the corpses of victims. A conference without the warring parties, and without an official Sudanese voice, where delegates from countries claiming neutrality—while secretly fueling the flames—spoke of a “safe Sudan” and “patient diplomacy” while Darfur burns, women are raped, and children are buried beneath rubble.
British Foreign Secretary David Lammy described the war as “brutal,” yet failed to invite Sudanese parties—perhaps because brutality, when turned into a polished political show, requires no witnesses. Calls to halt foreign support coincided with the presence of countries openly supporting militias—a contradiction that openly insulted the intelligence of anyone listening. As for the financial pledges, they’re mere painkillers for a catastrophe birthed by international apathy—money that will neither feed the hungry nor return the displaced, as long as the guns continue speaking.
The Sudanese government, excluded from the scene, sharply criticized the conference, refusing a ceasefire unless militias withdraw and disarm—a realistic stance lost amid corridors echoing with power games instead of the cries of victims. The United Nations, as usual, settled for calling it a “humanitarian tragedy,” the same euphemism often used to avoid naming crimes for what they truly are: genocide, rape, and ethnic cleansing.
And yet, nothing new. London’s conference, like all its predecessors, was just another cold diplomatic performance in the face of a raging catastrophe. No binding decisions, no decisive action, no real move to stop the bloodshed. A failure of a conference par excellence—one that moves nothing and offers only words at a time when Sudan needs deeds.
From where I stand, I see some of the world’s mourners gathering in London to discuss Sudan’s funeral—without even asking: who died? Who killed? And who among the bereaved even showed up? Everything was present except the truth. Everyone spoke—except Sudan. It was as if a funeral was held for an unknown corpse, with refreshments served before the burial. This is the diplomacy of paralysis, dressed in luxury, a tragedy managed with pleasantries—where the fate of a nation is discussed like a weather report.
