The War That Changed the Map of Sudan’s Economy

Mohand Awad Mahmoud
Wars do not merely destroy buildings, bridges, and factories; they reshape economies themselves. They redistribute wealth, alter centres of economic influence, create new actors, and weaken others. The real danger does not always lie in the physical destruction left by war, but rather in the profound transformations that occur within the economy during the conflict—transformations whose effects may persist for many years after the guns fall silent.
This is precisely what deserves reflection in Sudan today.
The war that erupted in April 2023 has now entered its fourth year, and the most important economic question is no longer the extent of the damage inflicted upon factories, farms, and markets. Rather, it is how the very map of the Sudanese economy has changed, and who the economic actors are that have risen or declined during this period.
Over the past decades, Sudan has developed a well-known economic class comprising exporters, farmers, industrialists, traders, transport operators, and service companies. These entities did not emerge overnight; they built their businesses over decades, accumulating expertise, commercial and banking relationships, and domestic and international markets that formed an integral part of the country’s economic structure.
Then came the war.
Companies were looted, others lost their assets, factories ceased operations, supply chains were disrupted, and capital fled abroad in search of more stable environments. At the same time, new economic entities and activities emerged and expanded rapidly in certain sectors, particularly general trade, agricultural commodities, and activities linked to foreign exchange and imports.
This is not merely anecdotal evidence circulating in the marketplace. In April 2026, the United Nations Development Programme reported that the war had led to the closure of approximately one-third of Sudan’s operating businesses, a contraction of the economy by more than 40 per cent, and the displacement of around 13 million people. Unofficial media estimates also suggest that hundreds of Sudanese investors have relocated their operations to neighbouring countries. While the precise figures may vary, they point to one undeniable reality: Sudan is facing not only the destruction of assets, but also the erosion of its private-sector base itself.
Yet the most important question is not who has risen and who has declined, but rather the nature of the capital replacing the capital that has exited or weakened.
An economy is not measured solely by the volume of money in circulation, but by the nature of the activities that this money supports. There is a vast difference between capital that builds factories, develops farms, opens export markets, or establishes brands capable of lasting for decades, and capital that moves opportunistically in search of short-term gains created by war, scarcity, and volatility. Nations do not build prosperity through transient activities, but through long-term investments that generate employment, value addition, and exports.
What has occurred in several export sectors over recent years offers an important indication of this transformation. Sudan’s exports of traditional products—including sesame, groundnuts, cotton, watermelon seeds, and other crops that have long formed a significant part of the country’s export portfolio—have faced serious challenges. These difficulties do not merely reflect problems with individual crops; they reveal disruptions affecting the broader economic system responsible for production, exportation, and international marketing.
At the same time, the liquidation of assets continues. Properties, warehouses, and land are being sold, and many companies are desperately seeking liquidity by any available means.
The critical question is not why people are selling. The war, displacement, business interruptions, and loss of income provide sufficient explanation. Rather, the more important economic question is: what types of investments are expanding today? Is new liquidity flowing into genuine productive activity, or merely into the acquisition of distressed assets and temporary opportunities created by wartime conditions?
The most dangerous consequences are not confined to the markets; they are also emerging within the banking system itself.
Banks do not finance money alone; they finance history, reputation, trust, and accumulated knowledge. A traditional client known to a bank represents years of transactions, data, financial flows, guarantees, and commercial relationships that enable risk assessment and sound financing decisions.
When established companies disappear from the market or their operations weaken, while new entities emerge without sufficient banking history or credit records, banks lose part of their economic memory. Financial institutions then face a genuine dilemma: either expand lending amid high uncertainty, or become more restrictive and thereby fail to fulfil their role in reviving economic activity.
Nor is this phenomenon confined to local companies. The war has also prompted several foreign financial institutions to withdraw from Sudan or significantly reduce their presence. Some are unlikely to return in the foreseeable future. Their departure represents not merely a loss of capital, but also the loss of external banking relationships, accumulated expertise, financing networks, and commercial linkages that once connected the Sudanese economy to regional and international markets.
This is not the first major economic transformation Sudan has experienced.
In the early 1970s, nationalisation policies led to the withdrawal or decline of numerous companies and trading houses that had been central to economic activity at the time. Archival records from that period indicate the nationalisation of companies such as:
Blue Nile Packing
Blue Nile Brewery
Bata Shoe Company
Seferian and Company
National Cash Register Company
The banking sector was also affected by nationalisation.
The lesson here is not one of nostalgia, but rather an understanding of an important economic reality: the departure of organised capital does not merely mean the departure of money. It often entails the loss of expertise, markets, relationships, and trust accumulated over decades.
It is equally important to acknowledge that several state-owned enterprises and public institutions have shouldered significant responsibilities during the war, helping to provide strategic goods and maintain a minimum level of economic activity. This has played an important role in sustaining economic life under exceptionally difficult circumstances.
Yet economic experience demonstrates that capital alone is not enough. Successful enterprises also require accumulated expertise, external relationships, marketing capabilities, innovation, and market understanding. When these elements are absent, the likelihood of failure and loss increases substantially.
The difference is that shareholders and owners bear the losses incurred by private-sector companies, whereas losses suffered by public enterprises ultimately fall on the state—and therefore on taxpayers.
For this reason, Sudan’s next economic battle must not be confined to rebuilding buildings, roads, and bridges.
The first priority should be protecting what remains of the productive class and restoring as much of it as possible to active economic participation. Banks should seek out clients who exited the market because of the war and provide genuine settlements, debt restructuring, and concessional financing to help them resume production.
The state, meanwhile, must recognise that restoring economic activity is more important at this stage than maximising revenue collection. Companies affected by the war deserve meaningful tax exemptions for several years, while fees and levies should be comprehensively reviewed during the recovery period.
As for zakat, it is only logical that it should be linked to businesses that have genuinely resumed operations, generated profits, and completed the required annual cycle—not to enterprises still struggling under the burden of war and forced inactivity.
Furthermore, coordination between the Ministry of Finance, the Central Bank of Sudan, the Ministry of Trade, the Ministry of Agriculture, the Federation of Employers, and the Chambers of Commerce is no longer an administrative luxury. It has become an urgent economic necessity.
Sudan today faces more than the challenge of reconstruction.
The greater challenge is preserving the productive economy and preventing the erosion of an economic base that took decades to build. Buildings can be reconstructed within a few years, but commercial expertise, export relationships, banking confidence, and economic networks accumulated over generations may require an entire generation to replace if lost.
Accordingly, the question that should occupy policymakers today is not merely how to rebuild what the war has destroyed, but how to prevent the war from reshaping the Sudanese economy in ways that make recovery more difficult, more costly, and more prolonged.
If the current process of economic replacement continues without a conscious strategy, Sudan may discover after the war that it has not only lost its roads, factories, and buildings, but also part of its productive class, its commercial expertise, its export networks, and its banking memory.
At that point, the question will no longer be: How much did Sudan lose during the war?
The more difficult question will be:
How do we rebuild an economy whose map, rules, and priorities have been fundamentally transformed?

Shortlink: https://sudanhorizon.com/?p=14347