When voices expose what politics has concealed: Al-Jakoumi and exclusion in an era of internal disintegration
In moments of major collapse, regimes do not fall all at once, but rather erode from within, word after word, leak after leak. This is how one can understand the profound impact of the audio recording made public and attributed to Mohamed Sayed Ahmed Al-Jakoumi, which seemed to emerge from the very heart of the crisis rather than from its margins. The recording did not so much introduce new facts as it confirmed what many had feared to say openly: that the Sudanese authority is experiencing a sharp internal division and that the discourse of some of its leaders remains governed by a Brotherhood-oriented mindset long overtaken by time.
From the first moments of the recording’s circulation, a clear state of confusion prevailed. No explicit defense was issued, nor was there any convincing denial; instead, silence or vague hints dominated, indicating that the problem runs deeper than a single recording. That silence was in itself an implicit admission that Al-Jakoumi had crossed established lines, or rather revealed them in their true form, which made him an easy target for exclusion.
Talking about his removal is no longer mere speculation, but has become part of an internal debate over how to limit the damage. Keeping him after this exposure would mean adopting his discourse, or at least accepting it, which the system cannot afford at this stage. Hence, exclusion appears as a forced option rather than a principled decision, aimed at showing that there are limits to what can be said publicly, even within the same camp.
However, focusing solely on Al-Jakoumi conceals a large part of the picture. Jibril Ibrahim, whose name is strongly circulating in the context of an anticipated exclusion, represents another model of leadership tied to ideological and organizational choices that are no longer suitable for governing a state in a condition of collapse. The failure of economic policies, the erosion of trust, and the swelling of crises have all made his presence a matter of question, even within the circles that once supported him.
What is striking is that what is unfolding does not reflect a struggle between two different national projects, but a conflict within the same project, one based on the logic of the Muslim Brotherhood, where organizational calculations take precedence over any other consideration. This conflict, long kept behind closed doors, has now come into the open, not because of political courage, but due to weakened control.
The audio recording also revealed the nature of the prevailing discourse within certain decision-making circles, a discourse built on polarization and disqualification, reproducing division instead of overcoming it. This discourse cannot be separated from a long history of exclusion that has turned the state into a permanent arena of confrontation rather than a space of consensus. Therefore, the anger provoked by the recording was directed not only at its author, but also at the system that allowed it to take shape.
For the Sudanese citizen, the removal of this figure or the sidelining of that one does not appear as a fundamental solution. Experience has taught him that the crisis runs deeper than individuals, and that changing faces does not necessarily change policies. What is awaited today is not an internal reshuffle, but a comprehensive reassessment of the nature of governance and of the role the Brotherhood current has played in complicating the scene.
Ultimately, the audio recording was not the beginning of the crisis, but its faithful mirror. And with every new act of exclusion, the question becomes ever more pressing: is the authority moving toward dismantling the causes of division, or merely silencing the voices that exposed them?
