The American Cognitive Model as an Entry Point for Understanding the Qahati Position

Ahmed Abdelmalik Al-Da’ak
When I observe the position of the “Qahati–Taqaddum–Sumoud” [various acronyms for the Alliance for Freedom and Change] grouping towards the existential war confronting the Sudanese people, I see one manifestation of Márquez’s observation that “reality is stranger than fiction.”
Indeed, how can a conscious person, possessing a measure of rationality or even some sense of moral judgement, claim neutrality towards armed groups backed by foreign states driven by their own ambitions and agendas towards Sudan and its people? Reality becomes even stranger when some of these forces become active instruments in besieging and weakening the only institution—the Sudanese Armed Forces—capable of preserving Sudan as a state, a people, a history and a culture.
There are, of course, straightforward explanations for this phenomenon, and some of them may apply to certain individuals. But they certainly do not explain it entirely. It is difficult to accept that this entire group of Sudanese people has fallen into the snares of treason and sold its honour and humanity for a pittance—for a handful of coins.
I therefore believe it is important to deconstruct this phenomenon so that we can establish sound foundations for a national state-building project. To do so, we need to move beyond explanations based solely on conspiracy theory, or those which regard such positions as the product of human weakness or the moral deviation of a particular individual or entity.
In my view, it is important to discern the cognitive and perceptual model that explains this behaviour, which at times appears contrary to common sense and at times even to purely rational, utilitarian instincts.
By a “cognitive and perceptual model”, I mean the mental image of the world, or of a particular phenomenon, that constitutes what might be called a cognitive map through which a person views reality, forms judgements and develops positions.
Looking at the positions of the “Qahati–Sumoud” grouping towards the Sudanese state and its institutions, foremost among them the Armed Forces, and then at its position on the war itself, I believe that the American cognitive model of the state represents one of the most important keys to understanding these positions.
This is not surprising. Most actors in Sudanese political life today, particularly younger generations, grew up under the dominance of the American model, especially during its comprehensive ascendancy following the collapse of the Soviet Union and the proclamation of the “end of history”.
Moreover, Sudanese political opposition to the Ingaz regime remained extensively open to the American model through its direct engagement with American institutions and civil society organisations, as well as through training and capacity-building workshops. This allowed the philosophical formulations underlying the American conception of the state and politics to seep into the consciousness of broad sections of the political elite—particularly secular elites that have developed a degree of psychological estrangement from their traditional value systems and from the particular historical context of the Sudanese state and society, and which view certain aspects of that context as backward remnants that ought to be overcome in favour of the Western civilisational model.
I adopted this hypothesis because the American cognitive model of the state was shaped to a considerable extent by classical liberal philosophy, which essentially views the state as necessary to protect rights and regulate the sphere within which individuals and groups operate.
According to this conception, politics becomes a competitive struggle among groups and individuals driven by different interests, often economic and material, while the state, in an important part of its function, becomes merely a mechanism for regulating this struggle within the framework of law.
It is well known, however, that what is legal is not necessarily just. The law itself may reflect power balances and structural biases generated by conflict within society.
Under this conception, the liberal mind tends to regard the state as one actor among others in the public sphere, rather than as an entity possessing an independent reality and a nature distinct from civil society.
The state is thus a political and legal structure society produces to regulate relations among its constituent parts. It is not necessarily the ultimate embodiment of the totality of what is social, cultural, political and ideological.
Here we encounter a difference from the Hegelian conception of the state, which I consider better able to explain the reality and dimensions of the nation-state.
According to this conception, the state is not merely an administrative mechanism serving capitalism, nor is it the “executive committee of the bourgeoisie”, in Marxist terminology. Rather, it is a necessary system for realising human freedom and humanity, because freedom itself requires a political, legal and social framework to protect it.
From this perspective, it becomes understandable that a person may sacrifice himself for the state’s survival. The state is not merely a transient government, an administrative apparatus or a framework for securing material self-interest. Rather, it is the framework that preserves the existence, history, culture and continuity of society, transcending the individual and the sum of its constituent parts.
This conception was manifested, to varying degrees, throughout European history, particularly with the emergence and consolidation of the modern nation-state during the nineteenth century. The American experience, by contrast, remained largely distinct from this model.
The American political experience was founded from the outset upon a substantial degree of suspicion towards centralised authority. It was clearly influenced by John Locke’s philosophy, particularly regarding natural rights and limited government.
It was also influenced by republican traditions that feared the concentration of power and sought mechanisms to distribute and balance it. Bentham’s utilitarian philosophy further influenced it, which regards the function of the state as achieving the greatest possible amount of happiness or pleasure for the greatest possible number of people.
It therefore becomes clear that the central question in the American experience, throughout much of its formative period, was not primarily: How do we build a strong central authority?
Rather, it was: How do we prevent the concentration of power and establish constraints that prevent it from becoming a threat to freedom?
There are, of course, historical reasons for this.
America emerged from a union of political units that already possessed a considerable degree of independence. The Union itself initially rested upon a relatively weak federal structure before the Founding Fathers sought to strengthen it.
The Federalist Papers reveal this tension clearly: the need for a federal government capable of preserving the Union and regulating relations among the states, on the one hand, and the persistent fear that such a government might encroach upon the freedoms of citizens and states, on the other.
Nor did America, particularly in its early stages, face the challenge of establishing and preserving the state amid a hostile external environment as Europe did, or as countries such as Sudan did.
Its geographical position between two oceans provided it with a considerable degree of protection. Its abundance of resources and vast geographical expanse also made its state-building experience fundamentally different from that of societies that must constantly confront questions of survival, unity, borders and armed conflict.
Consequently, the American political mind remained primarily concerned with constructing a framework that would allow different social and political actors to pursue their objectives, while emphasising individualism and maintaining a persistent suspicion of central authority.
The historical American debate over the right to bear arms can even be viewed in this context: as part of a deeply rooted political culture that does not regard the state’s monopoly over the use of force as something that should be accepted without reservation, because the state itself can become, within the American political imagination, a potential threat to individual liberties.
This is where the danger of mechanically transferring this model to state-building efforts in a society such as Sudan becomes apparent.
Sudan is a state facing a genuine challenge to its very existence, situated in a turbulent regional environment, characterised by deep social divisions, and still suffering from the incomplete consolidation of state control over weapons and over the entirety of its national territory.
If such a model is transferred without regard to context, it can reinforce an environment of conflict and grant social and political actors a parallel—sometimes even superior—legitimacy to that of the state.
This is because it elevates the rights of individuals, pressure groups and political formations at the expense of the fundamental question of the state itself: its survival and the protection of its institutional and legal structure.
To some extent, this helps us understand Qahati’s position compared with other national entities that operate on the premise that the state and its sovereignty must take precedence.
It can also help explain why we so often see an intense reaction whenever the state arrests an individual, regardless of the reasons for the arrest or the legality of the procedure, while we do not see the same level of concern or media mobilisation when the state institution itself is threatened.
This includes calls to dismantle the Sudanese Armed Forces, the destruction of universities, or the looting of the national memory represented by the National Archives and other state institutions.
From this perspective, it also becomes natural to call for an international conference to discuss the Sudanese issue in the absence of the Sudanese state itself, as has happened at a number of external forums, most recently the Berlin Conference.
The state is viewed here as merely one of the “parties to the conflict”. At the same time, so-called “civil society” is granted a status almost equivalent to that of the state, and perhaps even superior to it at times—as though the existence of a collection of civil society organisations and actors were sufficient to represent Sudan and resolve its crisis.
In my view, the danger of the American model lies not merely in its relative marginalisation of the concept of the state—a feature that has its own explanation within the American cultural and historical context—but also in the fact that transferring it to Sudan and to emerging states generally, particularly in Africa, allows groups and individuals to pursue their own agendas and interests without giving sufficient weight to the concepts of sovereignty and the supreme national interest.
If state sovereignty becomes permanently conditional upon the approval of so-called civil society, it becomes acceptable for foreign states to deal directly with groups within a country and, at times, to bypass its official institutions and sovereignty.
This may help explain why many Qahati groups align with the positions of other states, even when those positions conflict with what the Sudanese state regards as its supreme national interests.
Here, we do not necessarily need to interpret such behaviour as treason or collaboration in every case, although some of it may legally fall under such descriptions.
A person may be entirely sincere in what he does, yet operate from a cognitive model in which the legitimacy of a civil actor is considered no less significant than that of the state, and in which confronting the state or seeking foreign assistance against it can be regarded as legitimate whenever the individual believes that the state does not reflect his vision, interests or values.
This, in my view, is the deeper level at which the debate should take place.
If we want to build a successful and effective Sudanese state, we must first agree upon a conception of the state that corresponds to Sudan’s geopolitical, economic, social and cultural challenges.
We must work towards adopting a conscious cognitive model capable of building a strong, effective and just Sudanese state.
Perhaps one of the fundamental questions that should form a central subject of any forthcoming national dialogue is therefore this:
What kind of state do we want Sudan to be?

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=17794