“The Shadow War in Sudan: Digital Authoritarianism, Networked Propaganda, and Affective Polarization in the 2023–Present Conflict” is a paper by Osama Abuzaid, one of the recipients of the 2025 CEDEJ Khartoum Research Grant.

Abstract
Sudan’s conflict reveals how fragmented digital authoritarianism can emerge through competing actors who use social media to spread propaganda, disinformation, and hate speech. Digital platforms and online influencers have intensified polarization and influenced public perceptions of the war, while weak governance and limited accountability have allowed these dynamics to persist. Lasting peace will therefore depend on rebuilding not only Sudan’s political institutions but also its digital information ecosystem.

Background and Methodological Framework

Since war erupted in Sudan on 15 April 2023 between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), most analysis has understandably focused on the visible devastation: urban warfare and the prolonged siege of cities such as El Fasher (1), mass displacement now numbering in the millions (1), famine confirmed by the Famine Review Committee in Darfur (1), the near-collapse of a health system that Hemmeda et al. and Dafallah et al. estimate has lost hundreds of millions of dollars in capacity (2,3), and regional diplomacy that Pospisil and Abdalla show has fragmented across competing mediation platforms (4,5). De Waal’s earlier account of Sudan’s “political marketplace,” in which armed factions compete for control of state revenue rather than ideological victory, helps situate this devastation within a longer political economy (6). Yet Sudan’s conflict has also unfolded in another arena that is less visible but increasingly influential: the digital sphere. Alongside battles in Khartoum, Darfur, El-Fasher, and Kordofan, a parallel struggle has taken shape across Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), TikTok, Telegram, WhatsApp, and YouTube. Here, Sudanese actors, diaspora communities, influencers, military supporters, activists, and anonymous networks compete to reshape public perception, mobilize emotion, define legitimacy, and influence how the war itself is understood.

This article conceptualizes that domain as Sudan’s “shadow war”: a digitally mediated conflict over narrative power, identity, and moral authority that both reflects events on the ground and actively shapes them. In Sudan, social media has not simply reported war; it has become one of its infrastructures.

The importance of this shadow war lies in its ability to intensify polarization, spread hate speech, amplify disinformation, and narrow public discourse into hardened binaries. Since 2023, much of Sudanese digital discourse has increasingly coalesced around two broad camps (7). One camp—diverse but often united by humanitarian concern—calls for ceasefire, civilian protection, and peace negotiations. The other insists that negotiation with the RSF represents a dangerous compromise and argues instead for total military defeat. While both camps are internally complex, social media platforms often flatten these complexities into emotionally charged oppositions: peace versus betrayal, negotiation versus surrender, resistance versus treason.

This binary has profound implications. It shapes how civilians interpret battlefield developments, how diaspora communities mobilize politically, how public figures are judged, and how violence is morally justified or condemned. As a result, Sudan’s digital sphere has become not only a site of communication but a shadow warfare over the meaning of patriotism, legitimacy, and survival.

This study therefore asks: How has social media functioned as an architecture of digital authoritarianism, networked propaganda, and affective polarization in Sudan’s 2023–present war, and what does this reveal about conflict in fragmented war states?

Methodologically, this study uses qualitative digital discourse analysis grounded in Sudan-specific examples, policy reports, platform enforcement data, investigative journalism, and documented public cases. Rather than treating Sudan merely as another example of wartime misinformation, it argues that Sudan offers a particularly revealing case because it differs from centralized digital authoritarian systems such as China or Russia (8,9). In Sudan, no single actor monopolizes digital control. Instead, multiple competing actors, including armed groups, ideological factions, diaspora networks, celebrities, and digital propagandists, simultaneously attempt to dominate online discourse. Sudan therefore illustrates a fragmented form of digital authoritarianism in which authoritarian communication logics are distributed across rival power centers rather than concentrated in one state apparatus.

Digital Authoritarianism Without Centralization: Fragmented Sovereignty and the Politics of Digital Control

Traditional models of digital authoritarianism emphasize state-led surveillance, censorship, and information control (8). Freedom House’s annual assessments similarly track this state-led model, scoring countries on the extent to which governments restrict internet access, censor content, and surveil users (10). Sudan’s case is more fragmented, but no less authoritarian in effect. Since the collapse of Sudan’s fragile political transition and the outbreak of war, digital spaces have increasingly been shaped by overlapping attempts to suppress dissent, delegitimize opponents, and monopolize moral narratives.

A particularly revealing example is the case of Abdalmonim Alrabea, a Sudanese man based in Sheffield, United Kingdom, whose online presence became strongly associated with pro-RSF propaganda. Alrabea’s case gained major attention after he reportedly appeared in livestreamed conversations celebrating RSF military actions and publicly engaging with RSF commander Al-Fateh Abdullah Idris (“Abu Lulu”), who was linked to atrocities in Darfur (11,12). In one widely circulated case, Abu Lulu allegedly boasted of mass killings while Alrabea laughed and encouraged him, provoking outrage among Sudanese observers and civil society groups (11).

This case matters not simply because of offensive rhetoric, but because it demonstrates how digital warfare transcends borders. A diaspora actor living in the UK, physically removed from battlefield violence, was still able to participate in legitimizing militarized discourse and atrocity narratives. Sudanese organizations reportedly called for legal accountability under British hate speech and public order frameworks, highlighting a growing tension between freedom of expression and transnational digital incitement (11). Sudan’s shadow war thus raises legal questions that traditional conflict frameworks are poorly equipped to answer: what happens when war propaganda is produced abroad, consumed globally, and psychologically operationalized in conflict zones?

Platform moderation has also proven inconsistent. While TikTok and YouTube reportedly removed some of Alrabea’s content, his presence persisted elsewhere, particularly on X (11). This reflects a broader structural problem: enforcement fragmentation. Harmful digital actors can migrate between platforms faster than governance systems can respond.

Sudan’s digital authoritarianism extends beyond individual cases. Reports have documented coordinated social media operations, including networks of suspicious or fabricated accounts used to amplify partisan narratives, particularly around the RSF (13). These patterns resemble broader forms of computational propaganda identified globally, where digital ecosystems are manipulated through bot networks, false personas, and coordinated amplification (14). Yet Sudan’s case is distinctive because these practices emerge from multiple sides. RSF supporters, SAF loyalists, Islamist remnants, and politically motivated influencers all participate in efforts to shape digital legitimacy (13,15,16).

This has created a decentralized but coercive digital environment. Peace advocates are often branded traitors. Journalists may be accused of foreign collusion. Civilian activists risk harassment simply for promoting negotiation. Women journalists and public commentators have faced especially severe gendered attacks, including intimidation campaigns designed to silence them (17). Such patterns mirror authoritarian outcomes even in the absence of a singular authoritarian state.

Public figures, including singers, media personalities, and social influencers, further complicate this landscape. Their participation in war discourse often expands military narratives into cultural spaces, where symbolic patriotism, grief, or nationalist performance can reach millions. When celebrities adopt war rhetoric, humanitarian appeals, or absolutist political language, they do not merely comment on the war—they help shape its emotional architecture.

In this sense, Sudan’s digital authoritarianism is not defined by one regime’s censorship apparatus but by fragmented sovereignty over digital meaning. Multiple actors compete for control, but many rely on the same authoritarian techniques: intimidation, delegitimization, emotional mobilization, and narrative exclusion.

Networked Propaganda, Influencer Culture, and the Manufacturing of Wartime Consensus

Sudan’s war has also demonstrated how social media can manufacture perceived consensus through networked propaganda. In fragile conflict environments where traditional media infrastructure collapses, digital platforms often become the primary source of information. Since April 2023, Sudan’s media environment has been profoundly disrupted, with journalists displaced, newsrooms damaged, and verification systems weakened (18). Into this vacuum stepped social media.

This shift has had major consequences. Information now often spreads not through editorial institutions but through viral circulation, influencer networks, partisan communities, and emotionally charged content. During major military developments, misleading videos, recycled footage, and unverified claims have circulated rapidly, sometimes shaping public reaction before fact-checkers can intervene (19). In conflict conditions, the first narrative often carries more psychological power than later correction.

This is especially dangerous because digital platforms reward emotionally provocative content. Research consistently shows that false or sensational information spreads faster than nuanced corrections (20). In Sudan, this means atrocity narratives, battlefield rumors, and ideological accusations can spread widely and quickly—fueling fear, revenge, or mobilization.

The Carnegie Endowment analysis on Sudan’s hate speech ecosystem offers critical insight here (16). It argues that digital hate speech has increasingly moved beyond prejudice into strategic wartime function. Language online is not simply hostile—it often helps transform social and political divisions into existential ones. Opponents may be framed not just as enemies, but as threats to national identity, communal survival, or moral order. Such discourse can justify violence, normalize exclusion, and weaken support for negotiation.

Influencer culture intensifies these patterns. Sudanese content creators, musicians, online commentators, and public figures increasingly function as informal broadcasters. Their influence is especially powerful because they often translate complex conflict developments into emotionally resonant narratives. A singer’s patriotic performance, an influencer’s condemnation of peace talks, or a celebrity’s humanitarian plea can reach audiences who may not engage with formal journalism.

This cultural mediation matters. Influencers can humanize suffering, but they can also simplify war into emotionally consumable binaries. In many cases, social media rewards certainty over complexity, performance over nuance, and virality over verification.

Diaspora communities are central to this process. Sudanese communities abroad have played vital roles in fundraising, advocacy, and awareness. Yet diaspora spaces can also amplify polarization. Distance from immediate battlefield realities can sometimes intensify absolutist discourse, particularly when political engagement occurs primarily through digital ecosystems optimized for outrage and visibility (21).

Platform companies have struggled to respond effectively. Meta and X have removed some coordinated networks and manipulative accounts (22,23), but enforcement often remains reactive rather than preventive. Moderation systems may also lack sufficient linguistic and political context to identify Sudan-specific hate speech before it spreads widely. UNESCO and Sudanese media advocates have repeatedly emphasized the need for more localized moderation frameworks (24).

Ultimately, Sudan’s networked propaganda environment is not solely the product of armed groups. It is sustained by a broader ecosystem that includes influencers, celebrities, diaspora networks, ideological actors, platform algorithms, and weakened journalism.

Affective Polarization, Digital Hate Speech, and the Social Psychology of Fragmentation

Perhaps the most socially corrosive consequence of Sudan’s shadow war is affective polarization—the transformation of political disagreement into moral hostility (25). In Sudan’s digital environment, this process has become increasingly visible.

Social media has helped harden positions that might otherwise remain politically flexible. Calls for negotiation are often interpreted not simply as strategic disagreement but as betrayal. Calls for military victory may be interpreted not simply as patriotism but as cruelty or extremism. Over time, such patterns transform debate into identity.

This matters because affective polarization reshapes the emotional foundations of society. Once opponents are viewed as morally illegitimate, compromise becomes psychologically costly. Social media intensifies this process by rewarding outrage, public shaming, and performative certainty.

The Carnegie Endowment report highlights how hate speech in Sudan increasingly contributes to social fragmentation by redefining belonging itself (16). Entire communities may be rhetorically positioned as suspicious, alien, or expendable. This is particularly dangerous in Sudan, where pre-existing regional, ethnic, and political fractures intersect with wartime narratives.

Gendered digital violence further deepens fragmentation. Women journalists and activists have faced online abuse not only because of political positions but because gendered intimidation remains an effective tool for silencing civic participation (17). Such attacks narrow public discourse and reinforce exclusionary power structures.

Psychologically, the consequences are severe. Repeated exposure to graphic violence, hate speech, and war propaganda contributes to chronic stress, emotional exhaustion, and desensitization (26). For displaced Sudanese, digital spaces may function as continuous sites of retraumatization. For diaspora communities, constant exposure may intensify grief, anger, and radicalization.

This creates a dangerous long-term challenge. Even if military violence decreases, digitally reinforced social hostility may persist. Peace agreements can halt gunfire; they do not automatically repair digitally entrenched mistrust.

Legal Accountability, Platform Governance, and the Future of Sudan’s Post-War Digital Sphere

Sudan’s shadow war raises urgent legal and governance challenges. Current legal systems remain poorly equipped to address transnational digital incitement, especially when harmful speech crosses jurisdictions (11). Cases such as Alrabea’s suggest the need to rethink how international and domestic law approach digital participation in conflict escalation.

Platform governance also remains insufficient. Meta, X, TikTok, and YouTube increasingly function as political infrastructures, yet their moderation systems are inconsistent, often delayed, and insufficiently contextualized (22,23,24).

For Sudan, post-war reconstruction must therefore include digital reconstruction. This includes stronger moderation systems, local language expertise, journalist protections, gender-sensitive anti-harassment policies, media literacy, and accountability for digital incitement.

Without such efforts, Sudan risks carrying the emotional and informational architecture of war into its post-war future.

Conclusion

Sudan’s conflict is not only a military confrontation; it is also a struggle over narrative, legitimacy, and identity. Social media has become a central infrastructure of this struggle. Through fragmented digital authoritarianism, networked propaganda, influencer culture, and affective polarization, Sudan’s shadow war has shaped how violence is understood, justified, and emotionally experienced.

Sudan’s case offers an important contribution to contemporary conflict studies. It demonstrates that digital authoritarianism does not require centralized state control, that propaganda can emerge through fragmented ecosystems, and that affective polarization can become a strategic force in war.

Ending Sudan’s physical war will not automatically end its shadow war. Rebuilding peace will require not only ceasefires and institutions, but also reconstruction of the digital public sphere itself.

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Image : Ola A. Alsheikh, Sudan sit-in,  2019, Via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0.

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