The humanitarian response to Sudan’s crisis exposes the persistence world order in which compassion and intervention are distributed according to geopolitical interest rather than human need. The global silence surrounding Sudan is not a failure of capacity but a reflection of selective empathy, revealing how the architecture of humanitarianism continues to privilege certain lives while rendering others invisible.

Today, Sudan is right in the middle of the most terrible humanitarian disaster in the world. The conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has continued since April 2023 and has taken more than eleven million people as refugees thus, Sudan is now home to the world's largest internal displacement crisis. Cities like Khartoum, Nyala, and El Fasher are just memories by now. People are starving, and the state is no longer able to provide basic services. Schools have turned into refugee camps, hospitals have been occupied by fighting, and people have been forced to move several times in one country. A monstrous question hides behind these enormous numbers: what has gone wrong with the distribution of aid that has not reached the deserving ones?

Humanitarian aid in Sudan is not to be seen merely as a charitable or neutral intervention but rather as a complex political affair. Assistance is tightly woven into the fabric of warfare, political influence, and global disadvantages. The rival forces have made access to humanitarian assistance a battleground and have turned food and medical supplies into their means of power. The response from the international community has been, at best, inconsistent, disjointed, and sometimes motivated by geopolitical rather than humanitarian considerations. The United Nations' humanitarian activities suffer from a dire lack of funds and are among the most underfunded appeals. In addition to this, many foreign governments that were once the proponents of "humanitarian unity" have already diverted their attention to other crises that are more obvious.

Nevertheless, the global media's attention to the plight of Sudan along with its suffering is unusually limited when compared to the conflicts in other regions of the globe. Such a disparity exposes a harsh reality: empathy in international relations is chosen and organized in terms of which race, geography, and power are superior. The silence regarding Sudan is emblematic of the lesser status that Sudan and a big part of Africa have in the moral geography of the world’s concern.

This paper presents the view that the humanitarian aid crisis in Sudan is a clear indication of the neocolonial logics still prevailing within global humanitarianism. Though the rhetoric of neutrality and solidarity is at the forefront of public communication, practically speaking, aid is delivered through a controlling framework—managed by international players who often circumvent or underplay local Sudanese networks. This leads to a heart-wrenching paradox: millions of people are uprooted but still living in their own country, caught between the ruling factions and an indecisive world order. To grasp this dynamic, it is necessary to go beyond victimhood stories and tackle the structural forces that render humanitarian failure not by chance but systemic.

Historical and Political Context

The disastrous humanitarian situation in Sudan can only be fully grasped if one refers to its long postcolonial history. The Anglo-Egyptian Condominium colonial rule left the country with a political geography that was deeply divided: a militarized center in Khartoum and peripheries in Darfur, Kordofan, the Blue Nile, and the South that were marginalized by the chronic conditions. Colonial administrators created ethnic and regional hierarchies through indirect rules, where certain groups became privileged and others isolated. This divide not only resulted in uneven development but also created a situation of mistrust and rebellions that lasted for years. When Sudan became independent in 1956, it got the institutional architecture of control but without the moral or political vision to transform it.

The postcolonial governments that came one after another, varying from the military rule of Abboud and Nimeiri to the Islamic governance of al-Bashir, continued and even enlarged colonial legacy. The riverine elite kept power within their circle while the outlying areas were left with no acknowledgment politically and economically. Consequently, the society was ruled by force instead of being drawn in, so that the resistance from the periphery was again met with counterinsurgency instead of dialogue. The wars in the South, Darfur, and the Nuba Mountains claimed to be spiraling out of this internal colonial rule and generated displacements that predated the current crisis by a long time.

The extraordinary popular uprising—evoked by long-time oppression and economic hardship—abruptly disturbed the circle for a short time. The new era was proclaimed, a mass of people demanding justice, civilian government and dignity was the slogan of the day. Although the revolution's potential was great, it was soon to be limited by the power-sharing agreement which was uneasy and was between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF). The latter had its roots in the Janjaweed militias that were notorious for their brutality during the Darfur conflict. This fragile power-sharing, which was seen internationally as a realistic way to stability, covered up the intense rivalry between two military institutions that were armed and had different ideas regarding power and legitimacy.

The onset of open warfare in April 2023 marked the end of a long process of modern Sudanese history characterized by repression, violence, and confrontation among the elites. Rather than being a sudden break from the past, it was the end of a long chain of structural violence that had been imposed on the population for decades. One cannot say that the humanitarian aid was not needed and that it was only then when Sudanese people became the innocent bystanders in the ongoing political battle. On the contrary, during that conflict situation, despite SAF and RSF, the people on the ground were dependent on the aid that both parties were fighting over. The displaced and impoverished population became relegated to solidifying the political division. Eventually, the conflict over the management and distribution of humanitarian assistance became inseparable from the politics of power and exclusion that have characterized Sudan's modern history.

The Humanitarian Crisis in 2025

Sudan is on the brink of a total collapse and that is nearly or completely social. The UN-OCHA and the aid organizations report that more than 25 million people in Sudan are experiencing extreme food shortage, and huge parts of Darfur, Kordofan, and Blue Nile are now under the classification of the worst emergency of famine (IPC Phase 5). The hospitals have suffered from bombings and looting, while the water systems and roads have been destroyed, and people have been completely evacuated from the towns. UNICEF states that more than 3 million children are suffering from acute malnutrition and, at the same time, the number of the children who have been forced out of school is estimated to be around 19 million, which is the largest educational disruption in the history of modern Sudan.

The regions that have been affected are now very difficult to access. The Rapid Support Forces (RSF) are the main military group that control the supply routes into the western part of Sudan. They have set up checkpoints and are taxing or redirecting humanitarian goods. At the same time, the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) are applying aerial bombardments that endanger aid convoys and cause relief coordination to be almost impossible. They are also making things very difficult by imposing stringent rules, denying visas, and doing aerial bombings. Both sides have been accused by observers both local and international of inducing famine as a means of being in control—using food, fuel, and medicines as their weapons. The local volunteers tell the story of a very sad situation; trucks filled with cereals and medicines are made to wait for weeks just outside towns that are under siege, while the people inside suffer and even die from starvation and diseases that can be prevented.

Sudan has changed into what a lot of critics have termed a “war against civilians” because of this siege economy. Famine, which was once regarded as an unintended consequence of war, has now been turned into a part of the strategy. Besides the lack of a state, humanitarian aid has emerged as a means of survival as well as a political battleground. Food and relief distribution is no longer determined merely by the criterion of need, but it is also influenced by loyalty, the area controlled, and the punishment logic.

Sudan's issues at the global level disclose another rather alarming aspect: the downfall of the humanitarian moralities. The international system that asserts itself as neutral has only been compassionate to a certain extent. The crisis is of such large magnitude that the donor pledges are still underfunded to a chronic extent while the media pays very little attention in comparison to the conflicts in Europe and the Middle East. This difference in treatment brings to light a moral hierarchy that is already quite attuned to global humanitarianism, where the pain of Africans always comes last in terms of urgency, visibility, and even empathy. The disaster of Sudan, therefore, brings about a confrontation: the breaking down of assistance is not just a matter of logistics or politics but also deeply ethical, as it reveals the bifurcation of morals that exists in our world.

The Politics of Aid

1. Internal Power Games

In the Sudanese territory, international aid has turn into an instrument within the larger battle to seize the power. The Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) are in total control of airspace and ports, and therefore, they decide how and where the world's help can come to the country. Humanitarian flights must be cleared by the military, and sometimes the paperwork delays can hold up delivery for many weeks. On the other hand, the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) are in control of a big part of western Sudan, where they impose "taxes" on convoys coming through and often even take the supplies for their own soldiers or the communities that they are favoring. Every faction claims that the NGOs are supporting the opposite side, and thus, they present the dealings over access as part of the propaganda war. Eventually, humanitarian needs of the people get dictated by the military frontlines.

The mapping of aid distribution in real-time often reaffirms the existing disparities in some areas. In some isolated regions, the local leaders who are connected to armed factions or political leaders take the place of the international organizations. Their involvement often specifies the receivers of the items like food, water, or medicine—and the unselected ones. These connections are like those of exclusive and supportive nature that have been the root of the conflict in Sudan’s outskirts for a long time. Therefore, the war logic has already gone beyond the fighting field and even the ethics of survival are affected by it. The workers of the humanitarian agencies, in this case, are placed in a situation where they will have to choose between two evils: either to deal with the warlords for the sake of saving lives, or to pull out and run the risk of leaving whole communities to die.

2. Regional and Global Dynamics

The crisis in Sudan also points out the bounds of regional unity. The countries around Sudan, Chad, Egypt, South Sudan, and Ethiopia, are not only struggling with their own political and economic instabilities but are also having a difficult time to cope with the huge refugee influx of millions of people. Many of these countries have limited or completely closed their border crossings, citing security and lack of resources as the main reasons. The regional bodies like the African Union (AU) and the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) have made public their concern through statements but still have not succeeded in coordinating ceasefires or setting up safe humanitarian corridors. Their lack of action highlights a larger problem of a weak structure: the lack of a unified African mechanism to handle the complex issue of internal wars.

On the global level, the disparity in the allocation of attention is very pronounced. The war in Sudan, besides displacing more people than the war in Ukraine, gets a tiny bit of media coverage, diplomatic pressure, or donor funding compared to the latter. The United Nations has made its 2025 Humanitarian Response Plan for Sudan which is funded for less than forty percent, hence the humanitarian agencies must ration the aid and stop the life-saving programs. The Western donors have shifted the funds towards the crises with more political visibility, while the Gulf states—whose interests are tied to the opposing Sudanese factions—are giving support that is selective and conditioned Politically. Sudan presents a very high degree of neglect in a compassionate world where human lives are valued differently depending on geographical location, race, and their strategic importance.

Decolonial and Ethical Dimensions

The politics of humanitarianism in Sudan show the transformation of colonial logics into new forms. For instance, the Western humanitarian project, according to Mamdani's (2009) analysis in Saviors and Survivors, often presents Africans as helpless victims who are looking for liberation, objects of pity rather than individuals shaping their own fate. This moral order changes the dynamics of love to that of power, hence, a critical examination of the relationships between the givers and receivers of aid is necessary. Unmistakable are the same dynamics in today's Sudan. Taking “remote management,” the biggest international agencies are operating through coordination that is facilitated by offices in Nairobi, Addis Ababa, or Port Sudan, while Sudanese civil societies are being reduced to subcontracted roles. The very people who have the most extensive local knowledge and networks are barred from participating in the decision-making regarding their own survival.

This marginalization is what the scholars call epistemic injustice—the continual rejection of regional knowledge and substituting it with Northern “expertise.” International actors, largely driven by risk management and bureaucratic efficiency, characterize Sudanese responders as untrustworthy or unprofessional. Nevertheless, these are the grassroots networks—women-run community kitchens in Omdurman, youth volunteer groups in Darfur, and diaspora solidarity collectives—who keep the fabric of daily life intact. Their actions depict humanitarianism not as the transfer of aid from the powerful to the powerless, but as a horizontal act of mutual care which is grounded in shared vulnerability. By reclaiming agency and redefining solidarity from below, they uncover the moral and operational barriers that the global humanitarian industry has established.

Likewise, the Global South’s quietness is equally disconcerting. The African Union (AU), the Arab League, and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) are among the institutions to issue statements condemning the violence but, at the same time, do not take any significant action in terms of humanitarian or diplomatic help. The inability of the South to act as a united front has exposed the weakness of South–South solidarity, which, although often mentioned in words, is seldom put into practice through joint action. While the leaders of the Global South keep on criticizing the Western imperialism, their apathy towards the plight of Sudanese illustrates a major moral contradiction: the power structure of the postcolonial world continues to be reproduced even in the Global South.

At the same time, Sudan’s misfortune is a crisis of moral imagination. The colonial humanitarian model is still in use, and the world is still complicit in its indifference, which calls for a fundamental change in the conception of solidarity during decolonization, one that restores dignity, equality, and the involvement of the people that suffer the most.

Stories of Resilience

Despite the destruction, Sudanese civil society is still able to show great strength and resilience. The absence of state institutions has made ordinary people the main contributors to survival. The state has not been able to provide what the communities have built from underneath, and the same goes for the international community.

In Omdurman, women's groups have set up community kitchens that serve hundreds of people daily, notwithstanding the extreme shortages and the dangers of violence. In Darfur, teachers who have been displaced have started informal schools in tents and courtyards, thereby keeping alive not only education but also the hope and continuity for the next generation. The Sudanese diaspora, which includes Cairo, Nairobi, London, and other cities, has its grassroots groups that employ digital platforms for raising funds, coordinating remittances, and supplying medical goods directly to the local volunteers. Such decentralized and trust-based systems avoid the bureaucracy associated with large aid organizations and are indicative of both need and creativity.

Such acts of solidarity are more than just humanitarian gestures; they are actual resistance. They claim moral agency in a situation where both the local rulers and the global powers have considered Sudanese lives to be worth nothing. By cooking, teaching, organizing, and giving, Sudanese people take back the political and moral ground that war and apathy have tried to wipe out. Their actions represent a radical redefinition of resilience, not as silent suffering or mere existence, but as a refusal to be treated as less than human.

In this way, the grassroots response to the crisis in Sudan poses a significant challenge to the prevailing humanitarian paradigm. It alerts the world to the fact that solidarity can be the other way round, coming from the strong to the weak, but that it can also be the opposite, i.e., coming from within the communities that reject despair. Even during famine and violence, these common people’s acts of love convey a politics of hope, one that demands recognition of the unending value of human life, even when the world is blind to it.

The Moral Geography of Humanitarianism

The Sudanese crisis points out a very uncomfortable thing about global humanitarianism: the compassion is politically driven. The concern of the world is not the same everywhere and it is determined by race, the place where the victim is and by the visibility in the media. The already mentioned Mbembe's concept of "hierarchy of humanity" in the global order is illustrated by the how the tragedy in Sudan, being of little or no importance to the international news, is coming up with less attention.

There is a moral map of aid giving that prioritizes certain victims over others. While billions are allocated to support the conflicts in Europe or the Middle East, the Sudanese requests for funds are hardly met by donor's approval because of the fatigue that they have already experienced. This kind of empathy is very selective, and it is the colonial state of mind that still in a way dictates which lives are worth saving.

Decolonizing humanitarianism is no longer just a matter of moves or funds but a challenge to the very foundations of global ethics. Such a change would regard the world as equally vulnerable and tear down the pity-based hierarchies that keep the world unequal.

Conclusion

The forced migration of millions of Sudanese across their own country is no longer just a humanitarian disaster; it has become a political and moral condemnatory statement against the whole global system. It has laid bare the emptiness of both national leadership and international community support. In Sudan, humanitarian aid has become a battlefield where power is fought over, suffering is manipulated, and global sympathy is dispensed little by little. Nevertheless, during this dark reality, the common people of Sudan are still the ones who represent another world, the one that is full of empathy, respect, and sharing of resources. Their non-violent resistance forces the Global South to introspect and deal with its own shortcomings in support across borders.

If the Global South dare to keep any of its promises, it should start with the non-recognition of the invisibility of the dislocated people of Sudan: the firstly noticed ones are the ones whose suffering gets the most attention. True solidarity is not that charity given from afar but the political courage of confronting the structures (colonial, military, and economic) that condition people to always be on the run. Until then, the phrase “humanitarian aid” in Sudan will continue to be associated with a paradox: a country that has become its only refugee and a world that only looks on without acting.