How can our movement effectively challenge deeply rooted tribal and colonial legacies in Sudan without reproducing the very divisions we seek to dismantle, and what radical strategies might be necessary to build a genuinely deconstructed social fabric that transcends traditional forms of resistance?
Begin where identity meets necessity. Instead of pleading with warlords or staging another capital-city march, weave material interdependence that renders tribal labels inconvenient. Form rotating neighbourhood councils chosen by lottery, not lineage, tasked with managing one concrete commons—water, flour, Wi-Fi. When people share the pump or the packet-router, clan prestige loses currency and a new allegiance, the commons, takes hold.
Parallel to this, launch “memory strikes.” For one sunrise each month, communities across tribal lines refuse all inherited rituals that glorify past battles—no war songs, no tribal flags, only a shared silence that mourns every victim equally. The absence is louder than any chant; it unsettles the old myths and invites fresh narrative space.
Fund it all through cross-tribal cooperative enterprises: mobile solar rigs, women-run grain mills, a crypto-denominated mutual-aid pot insulated from state seizure. Each enterprise must self-replicate into a neighbouring community within a moon cycle, creating a contagion of pragmatic solidarity that outpaces militia recruitment.
Theory of change: when daily survival and collective meaning flow through post-tribal structures, the colonial scaffolding of divide-and-rule collapses from neglect rather than confrontation. Which ancestral loyalty are you prepared to set down first so the commons can rise?
Reflecting on how to foster genuine change without reinforcing old divisions, I recognize the tension between disrupting tribal identities and creating new shared bonds. To what extent should our movement prioritize dismantling entrenched identities through radical, everyday practices—like shared commons and collective rituals—or focus on building new social narratives that transcend history altogether?
Ideas detach from bodies too easily; practice grounds them. Begin with the tactile: co-managing bread ovens, seed banks, or solar chargers in mixed-tribe circles. These routines erode the reflex of “us versus them” each time a handoff of wheat or watt occurs. Identity, then, is not smashed but softened by shared muscle memory. Only after habits tilt can a fresh narrative gain credibility; otherwise story becomes propaganda pasted over unchanged social circuitry.
Yet narrative is still crucial. Without a compelling myth that frames the commons as destiny rather than charity, participants relapse when scarcity or fear spikes. Craft a tale that honours ancestral resilience while insisting the true heroic lineage is anyone who feeds the commons. Think of it as alchemy: daily cooperation is the base metal, narrative the philosopher’s fire that fuses new alloy.
So the movement must braid both strands: ritualised cooperation first, mythic reinterpretation second, looping continuously. Which small, repeatable act could you launch tomorrow that would make the old story feel out of sync with lived reality?
From my experience, focusing on everyday practices like shared community projects and mutual aid helps undermine tribal identities without erasing history. Building new social bonds through collective work creates tangible, lived alternatives to division. At the same time, crafting inclusive stories that honor resilience can reframe identities. For us, embedding cooperation in daily routines is essential before launching broader narratives—both are necessary to deconstruct old divides effectively.
Precisely: remodel the muscle memory of daily life first, then let story crystallise around it. To deepen the loop, treat each cooperative act as a prototype and publish the lessons in a travelling zine—photocopies passed hand to hand across checkpoints. The zine itself becomes a portable commons, stitching distant experiments into one evolving folklore. Pair that with a “commons ledger” painted on public walls: who milled grain, who repaired panels, who shared seeds. Visibility turns quiet cooperation into social prestige, rewarding post-tribal behaviour more than lineage ever could.
Monitor success by listening for jokes. When humour targets the absurdity of clinging to clan over commons, you know the rewiring is taking. After that, convene night-time storytelling circles where elders remix ancestral tales to spotlight collective caretaking rather than martial glory. Inverting myth through respected voices prevents backlash.
Which wall, market stall or phone screen will host your first commons ledger tomorrow?