The spectre of Sudan's popular uprisings

IT IS a measure of just how uncomfortable Sudan’s awful president, Omar al-Bashir, must be feeling right now that a few days ago he promised his impoverished and downtrodden people that he would give them all "internet, computers and Facebook".  I doubt Mr Bashir has ever set eyes on a Facebook page—but he certainly knows that whatever it is, it is something to be reckoned with, given recent events in neighbouring Egypt.

Whereas Muammar Qaddafi has tried to ban the pesky revolutionary networking site in Libya, Mr Bashir seems to be trying the opposite tactic in Sudan. I doubt it will help him very much—and if his past promises are anything to go by, we can be pretty certain that almost no one will get a broadband connection, let alone ever get to see Facebook.

Of all the ageing dictators in north Africa and the Middle East, Mr Bashir certainly knows the most about the potent threats of people power and popular uprisings—he has lived through two of them in Sudan. The first took place in 1964: the so-called "October revolution" ousted newly independent  Sudan’s first military dictator, General Aboub. The second occurred in 1985 and toppled another military dictator, Jafar Numeiri, who had come to power in a coup in 1969. It is this uprising that will be preying on Mr Bashir’s mind today.

Last year I sat down for a chat with the man who inadvertently became the leader of that  revolt, an amiable and mild-mannered lawyer called Omer Abdel Ati. He explained to me what happened. Events unfolded in a remarkably similar fashion to what has just happened in Egypt. Tens of thousands of people spontaneously gathered in central Khartoum for days of protests, their numbers swelling as the uprising gathered steam. Like in Egypt, nothing was planned, and there were no specific leaders or political parties provoking the revolution. Mr Ati ended up as the figurehead for the revolt merely by virtue of the fact that he happened to be head of the Sudanese Bar Association at the time, and many of the middle-class trade unions were in the vanguard of the revolution—lawyers, doctors, bankers, academics and the like.

The reasons that so many people took to the streets will also be familiar. The economy was in dire straits; decades of economic mismanagement had left thousands of young people unemployed and  disillusioned. There was a full-blown famine in the western province of Darfur; starving refugees wandered the streets of Khartoum. On top of this years of political repression had left the middle classes angry and resentful, hence the very active involvement of otherwise respectable professionals. Numeiri, like Mubarak,  had relied on the army to keep a lid on things, helped along by large amounts of American aid money. But, faced by the size and determination of the 1985 uprising, the generals caved in, ironically while Numeiri was on a visit to Washington to see his great supporter Ronald Reagan. They declared an interim government, which paved the way for democratic elections the following year.

After Mr Bashir and the Muslim Brotherhood launched their own coup in 1989, they spent the first few years of their rule specifically trying to eradicate those people and organisations that had risen up so effectively in 1985. Thus the middle-class trade associations and unions were closed down; many doctors and lawyers fled overseas. Student unions were closed and academics sacked. The new secret police tortured and killed many of those who had participated in the 1985 revolt.

However much Mr Bashir thinks he can control things, the idea of a popular uprising still exercises a powerful hold on the Sudanese imagination. In 2005 the shanty-towns on the fringes of Khartoum rose up in days of rioting and looting after the death in a helicopter crash of the southern Sudanese rebel leader, John Garang. The following year there were sporadic riots in the capital over rising food prices; in 2008 one of the Darfur rebel groups launched an audacious attack on Omdurman, next to Khartoum, in the hope that it would spark a more general revolt against Mr Bashir’s regime.

In the last week or so there have been occasional protests, involving no more than a few thousand people, but clearly modelled on the recent Egyptian and Tunisian experiences. The secret police acted swiftly, detaining student leaders, and even some opposition politicians, for short amounts of time. Even in the good times, Khartoum  was closely monitored to prevent another 1985; all bridges have two "technicals" at either end with loaded machine-guns ready to fire on any protesters, and the main bridge from Khartoum to Omdurman has three tanks permanently stationed at the Omdurman end. I have not been there this year, but I would imagine this security has been beefed up.

However, Mr Bashir knows he is vulnerable. An election victory last year was certainly no measure of his popularity; the polls were comprehensively rigged and the main opposition parties boycotted the whole process. Although an influx of oil money has benefited the president and the ruling elite, most north Sudanese, let alone Darfuris, are probably as poor and disadvantaged as when Mr Bashir came to power 22 years ago. Importantly, Mr Bashir has also just lost the south of his country to an overwhelming rejection of his rule, diminishing his reputation among his own supporters. Oh, and he’s also wanted by the International Criminal Court for crimes against humanity.

The circumstances, therefore, are certainly there for another 1985-style revolt, even if the regime long ago took plenty of precautions against just such an eventuality. It would be wonderful if it did happen; Sudan, perhaps even more than Egypt, desperately needs a new beginning.  One of the most talented and creative peoples of Africa deserves it.