Sudan was on the brink of crisis long before war broke out in April 2023. Decades of authoritarian rule under President Omar al-Bashir have left the country with a fragile economy, fragmented security forces, and entrenched militias.
After the coup that toppled al-Bashir in 2019, a weak civilian transition agreement failed to unite competing factions. Political instability, localized rebellions, and a smoldering conflict between the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), the successor to the People’s Defense Forces, a government-backed militia known as the Janjaweed that committed war crimes in Darfur in the early 2000s, have escalated into a full-scale conflict.
By mid-2023, Sudan had effectively been divided into conflict zones, major urban centers such as Khartoum and Omdurman had become battlefields, and millions of civilians had been internally displaced or forced to cross borders as refugees.
Despite its geographical separation, the European Union played an important role in these developments. For nearly a decade, it pursued a strategy of “externalizing” migration control, directing aid, training, and equipment to African countries, ostensibly to reduce irregular migration to Europe.
In Sudan, this approach had unintended and devastating consequences, for which the EU has not yet been held accountable. Funding was initially justified under “migration management” and “capacity building” but was intersected by opaque arms flows, Gulf intermediaries, and weak oversight. European funds and supplies, aimed at imposing border controls to stabilize populations and moderate African migration ambitions, may have indirectly strengthened the very actors currently committing war crimes in Sudan.
Between 2014 and 2018, the EU pumped more than €200 million ($232 million at current exchange rates) into Sudan through the EU Emergency Trust Fund (EUTF) for Africa and the Better Migration Management (BMM) initiative.
Officially, these programs were aimed at strengthening immigration control, border security, and human trafficking enforcement. In practice, they strengthened cooperation between the EU and Sudan’s security structures, including forces that were effectively integrated into the RSF.
As early as 2017, the Enough Project, an advocacy organization focused on conflict, corruption and human rights, published a report titled Border Control from Hell, stating that “the most serious concerns about the new EU-Sudan partnership are: “The Rapid Support Forces (RSF), one of the country’s most abusive paramilitary groups, is funded by the EU,” he warned. “A device that enables the identification and registration of migrants will also strengthen the ability to monitor them.” The Sudanese government has violently oppressed the Sudanese people for the past 28 years. ”
Two years later, the EU had to suspend some migration control activities in Sudan because there was a risk that resources would be “diverted to repressive purposes,” according to an official EU document cited by German news outlet Deutsche Welle.
Nevertheless, a fact sheet published on the EU website in 2018 titled “What the EU is actually doing in Sudan” claims that “the EU does not provide any financial support to the Sudanese government…The Sudanese military’s rapid support units do not benefit directly or indirectly from EU funds.”
All of this raises important questions. If the EU knew of the risks of diversion, why did it still invest hundreds of millions of dollars when there was clearly weak control over the end use of training, equipment and funds?
What is worse is that the EU’s role was not limited to providing funds that could be misappropriated. Weapons were also provided, albeit indirectly.
As the conflict deepened, investigators began to discover foreign-made weapons and ammunition widely distributed between the RSF and SAF. Verified images, open source analysis, and serial number tracking reveal European-made systems were being used on Sudanese battlefields. In November 2024, Amnesty International published findings that revealed that the Nimr Ajban Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) was equipped with the French Garrix protection system. Amnesty International analysts reviewed images and video from multiple locations in Sudan and concluded that if deployed in Darfur, its use would violate a long-standing UN arms embargo on the region.
In April, a France 24 and Reuters investigation found that 81mm mortar shells found on an RSF convoy in North Darfur were traced to Bulgaria. The markings on the ammunition matched mortar shells manufactured by a Bulgarian company and legally exported to the United Arab Emirates in 2019. The Bulgarian government had not authorized the re-export of shells from the UAE to Sudan.
In October, the Guardian newspaper reported that British military equipment, including small arms targeting systems and engines for APCs, was being used by Sudan’s RSF, and that it may have been supplied by the UAE.
Taken together, these findings point to a pattern. European weapons and weapons systems that were legally exported to third countries were subsequently diverted to the Sudanese conflict despite embargoes and purported security measures.
The UAE denies any role in the conflict, but its position as an intermediary hub for re-exported arms has been repeatedly documented. Nevertheless, European suppliers are bound by end-user agreements and export control frameworks and share responsibility for ensuring compliance.
Under UK and EU regulations, governments must refuse or revoke licenses if there is a clear risk of diversion to conflict zones or human rights abusers. The use of European weapons and weapons systems in Sudan therefore requires a rigorous reassessment of post-transit monitoring and enforcement.
Nevertheless, governments in Europe and the UK continue to issue new export licenses to potential violators, including the UAE. According to a recent report in Middle East Eye, the UK approved approximately $227 million in military exports to the UAE between April and June this year, even after the RSF was informed that equipment supplied by the UAE had arrived.
European countries are no exception, failing to ensure that their weapons are not diverted to combat zones under embargoes.
My home country, South Africa, has also faced criticism for its lack of control over arms shipments. In the mid-2010s, the National Conventional Arms Control Commission (NCACC) faced international and domestic scrutiny after weapons and ammunition manufactured in South Africa were reportedly used by Saudi and Emirati forces in Yemen.
As a result, in 2019 the NCACC postponed or withheld export approvals, particularly for the “most lethal” items, amid disputes over updated inspection provisions and human rights concerns. South African authorities requested that they be granted access to the importing country’s facilities to ensure compliance with end-user agreements, but the UAE, Saudi Arabia and several other countries refused. By 2022, previously held shipments were finally cleared on renegotiated terms.
Evidence now suggests that South African weapons may have been diverted to Sudan. Investigators and open source analysts claim to have identified munitions in Sudan that match those produced by South Africa.
The South African case shows that even if there is political will to ensure compliance with end-user agreements for arms sales, enforcement can be difficult. Yet it is a necessary and important part of peacebuilding efforts.
If democratic governments want to regain trust, end-use oversight needs to be enforceable rather than bureaucratic concessions. The NCACC in Pretoria and export control authorities in Brussels, Sofia, Paris and London should publish transparent audits of past permits, investigate credible cases of diversion and suspend new permits if risks are not mitigated.
At the same time, the EU needs to ensure that migration control funds are not exploited by armed groups.
Without such measures, Europe’s migration policy and South Africa’s defense trade risk falling into a stark contradiction, where efforts justified in the name of security end up fostering insecurity.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.
