The Quad: A Call for a Transition without Victors

By Dr Al-Dardiri M. Ahmed

The latest statement by the Quad, issued in Washington on 12 September, was not a routine appeal to end the war and restore democratic transition. Rather, it marked a turning point in the group’s rhetoric and its outlook on the Sudanese crisis. The statement explicitly called for a transition process “not subject to the control of any warring party.” It also insisted on excluding “violent extremist groups, or those clearly affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood,” from shaping the country’s future.
This article will focus only on these two issues, as they are the core issues. The Quad’s aim is to strip the army of its status as the de facto authority and to take control of the transition equation and its outcomes. After examining these two issues, the article will explore the reasons behind the Quad’s new direction, consider the likelihood of its becoming a sustained approach, and assess what Sudan should do in response to this shift.
Both issues have a history of causing discord. They led to the collapse of two previous meetings—one of the Quad itself, and another high-level multilateral gathering. The Quad meeting, scheduled for Washington on 29 July, was cancelled due to disagreements between Egypt and the UAE over these very issues. The other was the London conference on 15 April, initiated by the United Kingdom, France, Germany, the African Union, and the European Union. It was a major event, attended also by the United States, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Canada, Chad, Ethiopia, Kenya, Norway, South Sudan, Switzerland, Turkey, the UAE, and Uganda, alongside the UN and the Arab League. Yet it failed to produce a final communiqué, ending only with a joint press release from the co-chairs—a diplomatic fallback often used to mask outright failure. The declared reason: “serious differences, particularly among the Arab states—Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE”—over these two points.

Let us begin with the first. The statement’s call for Sudan’s transition to be “not subject to the control of any warring party” marks a departure for the Quad. Previously, it had aligned with the wider international position that followed the measures of 25 October 2021, when the international community condemned the military’s takeover as ending the civilian-led transition. Yet, at the same time, the international community recognised the military government that emerged, describing it as the “de facto authority” exercising control over the state, and its leader as the “de facto head of state.” He was treated as “Chairman of the Sovereignty Council,” invited to the UN General Assembly, and received by heads of state and organisations. The armed forces, as such, were considered responsible for returning the transition to its path and handing power to a civilian-led government. The UN Security Council said so explicitly in its statement of 28 October 2021, which urged the military authorities in Sudan to restore the civilian-led transitional government. At that time, the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and its commander were not regarded as having any independent standing apart from the Sovereignty Council, where Hemedti was deputy chairman.

Even after war broke out, the international community did not change its view of the de facto authority. The UN Security Council and UN reports consistently referred to the RSF as a “paramilitary group,” a term signifying it was not a regular arm of the state. In its 18 April 2023 statement, just three days into the conflict, the Council used this designation. In its statement of 13 August this year, rejecting the RSF’s announcement of a parallel government, the Council went further, calling it a “militia”—removing any claim to state legitimacy, and warning that its actions threatened Sudan’s unity and territorial integrity.
To now place the army and the RSF on equal footing as “warring parties” is to transplant terminology from international humanitarian law—normally used in ceasefire arrangements, such as in Jeddah—into the very different context of political responsibility during a de facto period of rule. The Quad’s move is thus an open attempt to delegitimise the armed forces, the Sovereignty Council, and its head as the de facto authority recognised under international law and by the Security Council. This paves the way for entrusting the transition to some unnamed body other than the army. The reason is plain: the Sudanese Armed Forces will not hand this role to the individuals whom “some” Quad states wish to reinstate in Sudan’s political scene.
Not only has the international community recognised the armed forces and the Sovereignty Council as the de facto authority tasked with completing the transition, but it has also acknowledged their most significant step in that process: the appointment of Dr Kamil El-Tayeb Idris as Prime Minister on 19 May. The following day, the UN Secretary-General’s spokesperson issued a statement noting the decree appointing Dr Idris and expressing hope that it would be a first step towards inclusive consultations for a broad-based technocratic government. On the same day, the Chair of the African Union Commission issued a statement welcoming the appointment as a step towards inclusive governance and expressing readiness to support Sudan in this regard. How then does the Quad’s call for a transition “not subject to the control of any warring party” square with this UN and AU recognition of a key step by the de facto authority?

Some may argue that rather than viewing the Quad as a whole, we should look more closely at the UAE, the most influential foreign actor in Sudan. Its acceptance of this formula, they suggest, means acceptance of the RSF’s exclusion from any future role. But was the RSF ever recognised as legitimate by international law, the Security Council, the African Union, or the Sudanese people themselves? The UAE’s aim, rather, is to see the army excluded from leading the transition, for under its leadership, the RSF’s allies would have no share. This exclusion is political, not legal: under the “doctrine of necessity,” it is armies that assume de facto authority when constitutional order collapses. The UAE and others have chosen instead to side with a “paramilitary,” a “militia,” that rebelled against the army, displaced citizens, plundered their property, shed blood, violated sanctities, and slaughtered innocents—earning the people’s hatred and rejection.
Turning to the second issue: the statement’s call to exclude “violent extremist groups, or those clearly affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood” from shaping Sudan’s future. In international law, designating any group as extremist or terrorist is binding only if done by the UN Security Council under Chapter VII, as with ISIS or al-Qaeda. The UN, the AU, the Arab League, or the EU do not so designate the Muslim Brotherhood. While individual states may classify groups domestically, such classifications do not bind others. Even the major Western states—the US and Europe—have not proscribed the Brotherhood. Bans have come from political rivals: Egypt after Rabaa in 2013, then the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Bahrain in 2014, and Russia in 2003 in solidarity with Syria. Israel only banned it in 2015. Jordan’s step in April 2025 was to dissolve the Brotherhood as a legal entity, not designate it a terrorist.
For the Quad to mention the Brotherhood by name, and to demand their exclusion, is unrelated to Sudanese choices or to the course of their transition. It reflects the internal anxieties of the statement’s drafters. Egypt, notably, does not equate Sudanese Islamists with its own Brotherhood, and has repeatedly shown this.

This may explain why Cairo diverged from Abu Dhabi on this issue at the April and July meetings. Unfortunately, however, the US has sanctioned Dr Jibril Ibrahim and Kataib al-Baraa as “Islamist actors” in the war, without attributing to them a single terrorist act. This contradicts both international law and US law itself, which incorporates international law domestically. Sudan’s government ought to challenge such Treasury Department sanctions in US courts, as they rest on flimsy grounds.
Why then did the Quad issue a statement so detached from diplomacy and international law?

Clearly, neither Egypt nor Saudi Arabia had a stake in it—their disagreements with the UAE saw to that. The driving force was the US–UAE axis. Their motives are strategic, not altruistic. Sudan has become a theatre of great-power rivalry: Russia seeks a naval base in Port Sudan; China covets ports and gold. Washington fears a power vacuum that would let rivals consolidate influence on the Red Sea, a global artery for trade and energy. A transition “under Quad supervision” allows the US and its allies (especially the UAE and Saudi Arabia) to steer events and block Russian–Iranian inroads. Excluding Islamists and creating a pliant regime ensures economic and security cooperation, anchoring the West’s position in Africa’s contest for influence. “Democracy” and “civilian rule” are, under Trump, no more than packaging—rhetoric to sell these interests to Western publics.

We must also note key differences between US policy under Biden and Trump. Biden emphasised restoring civilian rule and completing the transition. Trump emphasises stability, regional security, countering foreign influence, and securing the Red Sea. These are the drivers behind the Quad statement. Biden’s America spoke to Sudanese civil society, democrats, and youth activists. Trump’s America speaks to regional actors—the UAE, Saudi Arabia, and Egypt. For Trump, engaging these powers is paramount. His administration continues to respect the army as the de facto authority—treating it as indispensable—unlike Biden, who repeatedly pressured it to restore Abdalla Hamdok and dismantle the military establishment through the Framework Agreement. Yet Trump’s openness to the army is matched by his openness to the RSF.
While Biden saw the RSF as culpable for major abuses, such as the 2019 sit-in massacre, Trump’s America, as the Quad statement shows, treats the RSF not only as an armed force to be included in ceasefire talks, but as entitled to a political role—aligning with the UAE’s stance. Hence, the flawed logic of the Quad’s statement has become possible under Trump.

Finally, what are the prospects of this new Quad approach becoming sustainable, and how should Sudan respond? The chances of its adoption by multilateral bodies, particularly the UN and AU, are slim for now. Security Council action requires consensus—or at least no veto by permanent members. Russia has already vetoed resolutions it saw as interference, such as the 18 November 2024 attempt to impose a binding ceasefire. Similarly, it opposed the renewal of Darfur sanctions. The West has thus failed to change Council policy on Sudan.

It is therefore unlikely the Council will endorse the Quad’s new line, as Russia and China will see it as an infringement of sovereignty. The AU, too, is unlikely to adopt the Quad’s exclusionary approach, as it runs counter to African traditions of collective diplomacy, which rely on national armies to manage transitions and reject blanket political exclusion. The AU has consistently advocated a “Sudanese solution to the Sudanese crisis,” based on inclusivity and consensus among Sudanese forces.

Yet Sudan must not be complacent. If negative shifts occur on the ground, states and organisations will adapt accordingly. But if the army maintains its current momentum in Kordofan, if El-Fasher continues to hold out, and if credible civilian forces succeed in advancing a transparent transition, then the Quad’s line is less likely to gain global traction. The Quad itself may even soften its stance, accepting an internally driven process led by the army, without excluding actors based on political orientation.

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=7652