Small Acts That End Sudan’s War and Guard Peace

Dr. Nahid Mohamed Al-Hassan
As I read what people write and express—through their responses to my exploratory research questions—I began to notice something important: one of the knots that prolongs war is us ourselves, sometimes consciously, and often unconsciously.

People want peace. They dream of a just state. Yet even if peace comes, they fear that justice will not be achieved and that the wounds of war will not heal.

The truth is that people can engage effectively—without speeches or slogans, without joining a party or bloc, and without risking their lives—through resistance grounded in small, everyday acts that shorten the lifespan of war and safeguard peace.

In every prolonged war, there comes a moment when people begin to adapt to war rather than resist it. This happens because the human psyche—when exhausted—searches for any form of coherence, even if that coherence aligns with violence. At this point, without intending to, society begins to extend the life of war while believing it is merely “coping.”

First: Why Do People Get Used to War?
In psychology, there is a concept known as adaptation to trauma. When trauma persists, it ceases to feel like trauma and turns into a “new normal.”

The human mind cannot endure constant tension, so it begins to normalize violence, justify the unjustifiable, and search for quick meaning: we are right, the other is evil, we have no choice. Any justification that silences anxiety and provides certainty will do. This does not mean people have lost their morals. They are the same decent people, but their inner selves are trying to protect them from collapse. Unfortunately, this defensive mechanism comes at a political cost: the more we get used to war, the harder it becomes to imagine peace.

In Rwanda, before the genocide, killing did not begin suddenly. It started with rhetoric, then jokes, then silence, then “simple” daily participation. People were not born killers; they were psychologically trained in cruelty.

Second: How Do Wars Survive Socially?
War does not live only on battlefields and in military barracks. It lives in everyday language, jokes, songs, collective incitement, and in defining who is excluded and who is demonized.

Sociology calls this the militarization of everyday life: when violence, obscenity, and bullying become standards of masculinity instead of tolerance, self-restraint, and protection of the vulnerable. This deliberate distortion of identity, meaning, and values prolongs war—not only by enabling violence, but also by silencing resistance, labeling dissent as treason and neutrality as a crime. Therefore, holding onto what you believe is an ethically sound position is, in itself, an act of resistance.

In the former Yugoslavia, neighbors did not suddenly begin to hate one another. What changed was the social framework of meaning. Society split into “us” versus “them,” survival replaced compassion, violence and “strength” were elevated, and the justice of law was postponed. Even when the state collapsed, society remained mobilized, and war continued in other forms.

Third: What Do the Literatures of Civil Resistance Teach Us?
(The most important lesson)
Civil resistance does not mean naïve pacifism or waiting for angels. It is a science in its own right, studying how systems of violence collapse without being replaced by new violence. Its golden rule is this: violence requires far more cooperation than we tend to imagine.

Violence does not need only those who carry weapons. It also needs people to work in its institutions, justify its discourse, reproduce its symbols, and remain silent about its crimes. The moment we withdraw that cooperation, we are resisting.

In South Africa, apartheid did not fall through negotiations alone. It fell through the daily withdrawal of legitimacy—internally and externally—via boycotts, symbolic disobedience, protection of civic spaces, and the dismantling of supremacy discourse.

Nelson Mandela did not emerge into a ready-made peace. But during his imprisonment, South African society partially learned how not to demand revenge as the only solution.

Fourth: Why Are Small Acts So Dangerous?
In Chile, after Pinochet fell, people discovered a painful truth: while the dictator was gone, the culture that allowed him to remain in power had not fully collapsed. As a result, patterns of repression later returned in “legal” forms.

Small acts—or small refusals—are what shape the future. We must ask ourselves: Do we call a crime a crime? Do we condemn the “side close to us” as we condemn the distant one? Do we allow language to slide into violence? Do we reward inciters with fame and glorification?

These are not marginal details. They are the architecture of peace—or the seeds of the next war. Recognizing them and committing to what produces peace is an act of resistance.

Fifth: What About Sudan Now?
Listening to people reveals a clear truth: many do not want war, yet they reproduce its discourse, justify the violence of “their group,” and fear stepping outside the prevailing mood while waiting for a “great savior.” Unintentionally, society shifts from being a victim to becoming a nurturing environment for continued conflict.

Sixth: How Do We Resist Now Without Slogans?
Resist language. As Samih al-Qasim said, language is the abundant sesame of liars. Language is not neutral. Every word that excludes a human being today makes killing them easier tomorrow.

Reject moral alignment—meaning, stand against crime regardless of who commits it. This is not neutrality; it is the construction of future justice.

Protect and preserve unarmed spaces: schools, initiatives, neighborhoods, and relief committees. These are not side activities; they are the seeds of a civil state.

Break the illusion of consensus. Say no—even in a whisper, even within a small circle. This soft whisper weakens the illusion that “everyone supports the war.”

Preserve memory. Wars that are forgotten are repeated. Nothing frightens war more than documentation. Documentation is not about the past; it is a shield for the present and the future. Whoever knows they will be held accountable will hesitate. What makes violence unchecked and savage is the belief that no one will ever know.

Seventh: How Do We Guard Change Before It Comes?
Change is not guarded by leaders alone. From your words and fears, there is a deep crisis of trust in leadership—but what about our role? If you do not trust, then engage in resistance and guardianship. Stop normalizing violence. Use language that respects human dignity. Preserve a memory that demands justice. Hold firmly to the idea that peace is not a fleeting event, but a daily practice.

Many revolutions failed not because they did not overthrow regimes, nor because their people did not sacrifice enough, but because they failed to change the human being who allows war to return.

Conclusion
War does not end when gunfire stops. It ends when society stops justifying it, glorifying it, and fearing its criticism.

Resistance today is not heroism, nor a sacrificial act. It is a daily moral vigilance—and small acts.