Shane Bauer
Rebels from the Sudan Liberation Army-Unity faction sit s... A woman serves tea in a bustling weekly market in Diesa, ... An SLA rebel fighter sits next to an unexploded bomb drop... A U.N. refugee agency helicopter takes off from Bir Maza,... More...
In August, people with their eyes on Darfur breathed a sigh of relief - their desperate calls for the world to "do something" had finally been answered. The United Nations had approved a hybrid force with the African Union to enter the war-ravaged region by the end of the year. Soon enough, 26,000 troops would be on the ground, and people would no longer have to hide under trees or put out their fires at night whenever planes flew overhead.
Darfuris want intervention as soon as possible, but few see their conflict in Sudan as one between deranged slayers and abject victims whose simple solution is boots on the ground.
But Americans like a simple story line, animated with movie-like sensationalism. The story tends to go something like this: A cabal of Arab Islamists decided to eradicate the black population in Darfur, and they've sent in the evil horsemen - the infamous Janjaweed militia - to do their bidding.
But things in Sudan's westernmost region are a bit more complicated, and they require more than a fleet of blue helmets to save the day.
Amid dropping bombs and burning villages, many Darfuris see themselves in the throes of a revolution, and they say they won't stop fighting until a political solution is reached.
When the news of the promised peacekeeping force reached Darfur, I was in Bir Maza, a small village of thatch-roofed huts in North Darfur. The village was under the control of the rebel Sudan Liberation Army (SLA), and the occasional deep booms and streaming red balls of anti-aircraft rounds through the otherwise placid night skies testified to claims that the rebels were intent on keeping their airspace unsafe for military planes.
Outside the village, in one of the rebel factions' temporary bases, SLA commander Ali Mukhtar Ali told me that the rebels had been calling for intervention ever since the government started massacring civilians.
But intervention in Darfur is no panacea, he warned. "It's all about the economy," he said. "Even if the international community stopped the killing and we were able to live in safety and security, we have demands." He spoke as his troops polished their heavy artillery in preparation for an attack against the Sudanese military. "Once we get our rights and economic justice, then we'll talk about peace and security."
The SLA rose up against the government in 2003 with the Justice and Equality Movement demanding equal political participation and wealth sharing for marginalized regions around Sudan.
Unwilling to loosen its grip on power and national wealth, the regime in Khartoum - which descends from the same clique that the British left in office in 1956 - responded with a horrific counterinsurgency campaign.
In an attempt to squash the rebellion, it targeted the civilian population, which overwhelmingly supported the guerrilla fighters. The military dropped bombs on villages from cargo planes and armed Janjaweed militias to run people out of their homes, killing 200,000 to 400,000 and concentrating more than 2 million into refugee camps.
Anyone who visits Darfur leaves with a collection of heart-wrenching stories. I've met mothers who have had their children kidnapped by the Janjaweed, never to see them again; fathers who, after walking for days to a refugee camp, had infants die in their arms of exhaustion; women who gave birth to stillborn babies when their bodies became seized with terror; people forced to witness family members get raped in front of them; and dozens of people with bodies mangled from rockets and mortar shrapnel.
People's harrowing accounts of war are usually coupled with furious complaints of their political and economic marginalization. "The politicians in Khartoum only represent their people," village elder Hamid Manna told me in a settlement of displaced people. "There is no development in our region. We don't have paved roads.
There is no water - we drink from puddles with the dogs and camels. In Khartoum, people have everything they need. They even have water faucets in their houses." His wife, who asked not to be named, said they have always needed clinics and schools, services that are readily available in other parts of Sudan.
Thanks to oil revenues from the country's south, Sudan's gross domestic product has increased an average of 6.7 percent annually for the past seven years, putting it in the top 10 fastest-growing economies in the world, according to U.N. figures. But while shopping malls and five-star hotels pop up in Khartoum, Darfur and other regions remain in abject poverty.
Compared to crazed horsemen and fire, roads and schools seem trivial, but the structural inequality between Darfur and the country's central and northern regions is the core issue preventing peace in Darfur. After 200,000 to 400,000 deaths and 2 million displaced, many Darfuris still see themselves in the throes of a revolution.
And this is where international peacekeeping gets complicated. Although the United Nations and African Union are trying to strike a deal between Khartoum and the rebels, few in Darfur want to negotiate with the junta that has oppressed and killed them. After so many villages burned and agreements were broken, most don't believe that peace is even possible while the ruling National Congress Party is in power.
"It is absolutely necessary to change the ruling regime in Sudan. That is our first and final conviction," said local peasant turned senior SLA commander Yusif Musabbal. "If (the government) isn't changed, there will be nothing in Darfur."
The international community has a history of pushing for quick fixes in Darfur at the expense of long-term solutions. In May 2006, under pressure from the African Union, the United Nations and the United States, one rebel group signed a peace agreement with the government that was judged inadequate by other factions and the majority of refugees for its absence of structural political changes, lack of reparations for war victims and negligible guarantees of security.
After the accord was signed, refugee camps exploded in protest, and the war resumed with renewed brutality.
Recently, while the shattered rebel movement has been trying to reunify itself, the United States has taken the bully pulpit and recklessly threatened sanctions against any rebel leader who does not attend peace talks with the government, regardless of the content of the proposed deal on the table.
If the international community pushes rebels into an agreement that doesn't include increased regional power, proportional representation of all states in the national government, equitable distribution of wealth and resources, and free elections, a replay of Darfur could be just around the corner in other parts of Sudan.
The Darfur crisis is itself the second round of a war that started in south Sudan, where rebels fought for similar national changes and the government wiped out entire villages with airplanes and militias, killing 2 million people over 20 years.
Today, there are rebels in Sudan's eastern states, and a new guerrilla army is forming in Kordofan, the state neighboring Darfur. Both have demands almost identical to Darfur's rebels.
If the next peace accord to come out of Sudan is designed to placate Darfur's rebels rather than bring about comprehensive political and economic equality, the world might as well sit back and wait for another crisis. More cycles of rebellion and mass killing will be sure to come.
E-mail Shane Bauer at shane@shanebauer.net. Contact us at insight@sfchronicle.com.
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