The Army Between the Quad’s Agenda and the National Narrative (3 of 4)

Dr Al-Dirdiri Mohamed Ahmed
Not every “independence narrative” succeeds in becoming a lasting foundation for democracy and national renaissance. Many post-colonial societies saw their national narratives disintegrate at the dawn of independence, just as Sudan’s did. They failed to establish a stable civic state, a functioning democracy, or a foundation for sustained economic progress. Yet the genius of a people and the charisma of its leadership become evident when the national narrative begins to decay: they revive it, enrich it with unifying meanings, and enable it to once again serve as a basis for cooperation among the nation’s diverse segments. This is what happened in Ghana.
At first, Ghana’s independence narrative under Kwame Nkrumah was among the most inspiring in Africa. It was not merely independence from Britain, but a continental project for African unity, African renaissance, and African socialism. Yet it failed to offer a mature framework that turned diversity into strength and plurality into richness. It was a rushed and incomplete project, built around the idea of immediate political unity without regard for borders or differences—considered mere remnants of colonialism. Soon, dreams of liberation turned into nightmares of authoritarianism and instability.
Nkrumah saw himself as the leader of all Africa. He fashioned himself a philosopher-warrior—the Osagyefo in the Akan language. He became consumed with drafting fiery speeches on African unity rather than building the institutions of his own state. A saint-like aura grew around him, and he came to believe he alone held the path to salvation. Gradually, Nkrumah lost touch with Ghanaian realities. He built a one-party state, declared himself president for life, entered disputes with neighbouring African leaders, and accused them of serving foreign interests. Political repression and economic failure eroded the popular appeal of independence. Independence no longer symbolised freedom or development. Public trust between the people and the elite collapsed. The symbolic foundation that had united Ghanaians at independence crumbled. Nkrumah was overthrown in a coup, followed by a chain of further coups (1966–1981) and economic ruin exacerbated by the pressures of the World Bank and IMF. Nkrumah himself became a divided symbol—revered by some, rejected by others. The independence narrative faded into oblivion.
Yet the Ghanaian people succeeded later in reviving that narrative as a unifying national story. This occurred in the 1990s. Civic mobilisation grew, and Jerry Rawlings took power in 1981. Though Rawlings rose to prominence as a military leader and Marxist revolutionary, he recognised—after the Soviet Union’s collapse—that Ghana’s future did not lie in pursuing a dying socialist model. Instead, he returned to the independence narrative and clothed it in democratic form. Rawlings became a transitional leader, steering the country towards democracy. He drafted a new constitution in 1992, enshrining fundamental rights, multi-party elections and separation of powers, and put it to a public referendum. Rawlings presented the Fourth Republic as a rebirth of the Ghanaian nation—essentially a corrected renewal of the Independence Narrative.
Nkrumah’s legacy was restored—not as that of a ruler to be imitated, but as that of the “Father of the Nation,” while separating the national ideal from the man’s personal authoritarianism. His image became part of a shared national vocabulary—including among former opponents. Meanwhile, Ghana moved sharply and successfully from socialism to a market economy. With the elections of 1992 and 1996, democratic practice took root. In 2001, Ghana saw its first peaceful transfer of power between rival parties, when Rawlings handed power to his political opponent John Kufuor—cementing the credibility of Ghana’s renewed national narrative.
Why did Ghana succeed in reviving its broken independence narrative?
The Ghanaian people had grown weary of coups and poverty; a collective readiness for change had crystallised.
The 1992 constitutional discourse adopted an inclusive tone that replaced authoritarianism with democracy and transcended past grievances without excluding any group or tribe.
Institutional performance improved to a level that inspired public confidence, relative to the region.
Western support—particularly from the United States under President Bill Clinton—encouraged Ghana’s transition. Clinton chose Accra as the first stop in his 1998 Africa tour, using Independence Square as a symbolic platform to address the continent.
The lesson: A nation whose unifying project has collapsed can breathe life into its original independence narrative—repair its weaknesses, rebuild on its foundations, and construct a stable constitutional order and successful economy.
The Sudanese Parallel
In Sudan, much like Ghana, the independence narrative was shattered early—but the Sudanese elite accelerated this collapse. Less than three years after independence, the elite abandoned one of its core principles: civilian, democratic governance. They invited the military to take power in the unconstitutional coup of 17 November 1958. The justification was the familiar refrain: “the parties have failed, democracy has failed, therefore the army must rule.” Thus, the independence narrative—centred on civilian nation-building—lost its appeal. A replacement narrative emerged: the Army as Protector.
This alternative narrative reappeared repeatedly:
EraNarrative Formula
1969 (May Regime) Army as Protector / Saving Revolution (socialist, then nationalist, then Islamic tones)
1985 (Suwar al-Dahab) Army as Protector / Democratic Transition
1989 (Ingaz) Army as Protector / Islamic Revolution
2021 (al-Burhan) Army as Protector / Democratic Transition (again)
In all five cases, the “Army-Protector” narrative displaced the Independence Narrative.
Meanwhile, civilians did not fare better.
October 1964 produced a refined urban elite narrative—but not a national one.
April 1985 was an uprising of hardship, not of foundational vision.
December 2018 sought not only to replace the Ingaz narrative, but to replace the Independence Narrative itself with a liberal founding narrative. It excluded Islamists, the army, traditional communities and several armed movements. In doing so, it became a narrative of exclusion—and exclusion invites conflict. The prolonged sit-in and the counter-violence of 3 June 2019 followed. Then, in October 2021, the Army-Protector narrative was revived once more. The Framework Agreement attempted to restore the liberal founding narrative—and war followed.
This is how the country arrived here.
Why return now to the Independence Narrative?
Because it is the only narrative with legitimate founding authority—linked to the flag, sovereignty, the anthem, parliament, the constitution, and the national army.
Because it is the only narrative capable of uniting opposing forces.
Because, unlike later narratives, it is not built on internal enmity (not anti-military, anti-Islamist, anti-tribal or anti-regional).
Because its symbolic moment is unquestioned, forged in a struggle against a foreign adversary.
Even independence narratives that were weak at birth can be renewed—but only after a nation passes through trials that sharpen its collective memory. Sudan today is living such a trial.
Renewal does not mean repetition.
The Independence Narrative must return enriched, with:
Decentralisation to address the countryside and diversity,
A semi-presidential system balancing parliament and a directly elected president,
A reconciliatory national ethos that absorbs past experiences instead of erasing them.
Just as Indonesia rehabilitated Sukarno, Chile rehabilitated Allende, Tanzania rehabilitated Nyerere, and China rehabilitated Mao (with “70% correct, 30% incorrect”), Sudan too can transcend its old rivalries and reclaim its founding moment without romanticising it.
And now — the army decides.
Today, all absolute authority lies with the army. Unlike Suwar al-Dahab in 1985, this army is emerging from a historic war that has unified the national sentiment. This creates—for the first time since 1956—a real possibility of a founding transition, not a mechanical one.
So the question is:
Will the army seize this moment and renew the Independence Narrative —
or will it settle for the “Army-Protector / Democratic Transition” narrative,
opening the door again for the Quad and its divisive agenda?
That question — and its consequences — are the subject of the final batch in the series.

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=8260