Language as a Weapon of Extermination: From the South and Darfur to Khartoum – A Reading in the Doctrine of Dehumanization

Exclusionary Language: The First Bullet of War

By: Moheid Siddig

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In every war, words are the first tools of killing. In Nazi Germany, exclusionary language was the foundation of the Holocaust. Before Jews, Roma, the sick, and the disabled were burned, the Nazi regime had already planted in the minds of Germans that these were not people, not human beings, but enemies of the Aryan race—a weakness in the national body that had to be eradicated. Language paved the way for the Holocaust, just as the war rhetoric in Sudan is doing today.

In the United States, settlers and the U.S. military waged long wars against Native Americans, during which they seized lands and committed bloody massacres. The general discourse portrayed Native Americans as "wild animals / obstacles to civilization / godless creatures / parasites on the body of the nation that must be removed." Policies of scorched earth, forced displacement, and genocide, such as the "Trail of Tears," were tools to erase their existence under the cover of dehumanizing language.

In Latin America, military regimes in Argentina and Chile used terms that described opponents as viruses, parasites, enemies of the cross, backward, criminal, security threats, and communists. These racist discourses justified campaigns of cultural and physical cleansing, forced sterilizations, land confiscations, and the criminalization of protest movements, in what became known as the "Dirty War." In Rwanda, Tutsis were labeled as "cockroaches."

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What is happening in the war that erupted on April 15, 2023, is a blatant violation of all international laws, foremost among them the Fourth Geneva Convention, which guarantees the protection of civilians during armed conflicts. All conventions related to war crimes and crimes against humanity are being disregarded. The failure of the international legal system to stop these violations has effectively given the green light for more killing, displacement, and ethnic cleansing.

Since the outbreak of the latest civil war, language has taken on a new form—no longer limited to political or military expression, but becoming a systematic tool of suppression and exclusion, used to strip the "other" of their humanity, opening the door for heinous crimes to be committed without guilt. This approach mirrors some of the darkest chapters in human history and is not new to Sudan; it is an extension of a long legacy of racist discourse and structural violence.

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Exclusionary Language: The First Bullet of War – Because Killing Them is Easier That Way
In war, bullets are fired not only from gun barrels but also from the mouths of soldiers and fighters. Words become verbal bullets that precede the act of killing and crime. These terms are not uttered randomly; they are embedded in the minds of fighters as tools of justification and absolution of responsibility.

The civil war that began on April 15, 2023—like many conflicts around the world—is not merely a struggle over land or power but a war of terminology: Is it a “War of Dignity” or a “War to Dismantle the State of ’56”?

Language has been, and remains, a central tool for framing the "other" and stripping them of their humanity. Terminology spreads through media outlets and social media platforms, loaded with racist, regionalist, and dehumanizing connotations that make it easier to kill.

These terms multiply daily: euphemisms the article allows me to mention, such as Flanqai, Malouf, Gharabi (westerner), foreigners, collaborators, agents, remnants, etc. The dead are referred to as carcasses, filth, bodies rotting, vermin, pests, taken down—terms typically used for animals. Phrases of misogynistic oppression also seep into whispered conversations, targeting women active in public life. There are terms so vile I can’t even write them here, but they have infiltrated daily discourse in families, gatherings, and conversations across all classes, groups, and ethnicities.

The conclusion is clear: we cannot ignore or dismiss this language as fleeting rhetoric. It is a tool for stripping the other of humanity, excluding them from citizenship, and denying their basic rights—paving the way to justify every form of violence against them. When the other becomes a mere "thing"—a rag, an animal—their killing is not only permissible but celebrated in the logic absorbed by fighters in this war.

This language is no different from what we have seen in previous wars in Sudan and around the world, where exclusionary discourse generates a public sentiment that views the extermination of the opponent as an "achievement," not a crime.

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The Roots of the Rhetoric: From the War in Southern Sudan to Darfur – A Long History of Exclusion and Violence

The atrocities of the current war in Sudan cannot be understood in isolation from a long history of exclusionary discourse and systemic violence within the Sudanese state.

Before the April 15 war, Sudan endured two long civil wars in the South, followed by a genocidal massacre in Darfur—both anchored in the dehumanization of the "other" and the justification of their extermination.

During the North-South civil war (1955–2005), the conflict was not merely political or military; it took on a cultural and racial dimension. The Southern Sudanese were portrayed in state media and public mobilization discourse as "Jangis, slaves, infidels, savages," who did not belong to the supposed Arab-Islamic identity of Sudan.

This exclusionary rhetoric was not merely a tool of discrimination—it was an integral part of the combat doctrine of the Sudanese Armed Forces and militias, legitimizing violations such as aerial bombardments of civilian areas, forced displacement, and the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war.

Later, during the Darfur war (2003–present), the same pattern was repeated. Non-Arab groups—particularly the "Zurga" (Blacks)—were depicted as an ethnic threat and tribal rebels that needed to be crushed. The Sudanese government employed Janjaweed militias to carry out systematic acts of genocide, including mass killings, burning, rape, and forced displacement, all under the guise of a discourse that viewed victims by their skin color, facial features, accent, or hairstyle as slaves and rebels deserving death.

The United Nations classified these atrocities as crimes against humanity and acts of genocide. The International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for former President Omar al-Bashir—a historic precedent against a sitting head of state.

These two cases—Southern Sudan and Darfur—represent earlier phases of the same catastrophe unfolding today. The same exclusionary rhetoric, the same crimes, are being reproduced, but now the geography has expanded to engulf all of Sudan.

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Combat Doctrine and the Collapse of Values

I am perplexed by the recurring talk of a "new doctrine" for the army, yet in reality, we see the same exclusionary doctrine being entrenched. I have witnessed no departure from the insistence on an ideology that dehumanizes political conflict, exalts military action, and glorifies violence as a celebrated act.

What is unfolding is a doctrine that exalts brutal killing and strips it of any religious, moral, or legal accountability. Many opinion leaders, writers, and politicians justify the military’s actions with phrases like, "this is the nature of war." Civilians are slaughtered, water stations, power plants, hospitals are bombed, villages and hamlets are burned, supply routes are blocked, and mass killings and rapes are committed—without a flicker of conscience—because, in their eyes, the victims are no longer human.

This is a war with no prisoners—or prisoners left to die in camps resembling Nazi concentration camps: starvation, no healthcare, no records of names—because they are simply not regarded as human in the current war doctrine.

Language was the precursor to these criminal acts. The military doctrine of this war does not see the victims as human beings but as legitimate targets for extermination, mutilation, and killing.

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The Silence of Political and Civil Forces: Normalization of Crime or Silent Celebration?

A striking feature of this war is the absence of a firm, clear stance from political and civil forces against this exclusionary rhetoric. Far too often, these terms are passed over without objection, and atrocities are celebrated as "victories," while in reality, they are moral defeats that strip society of its last threads of human decency.

This complicity—by silence or justification from thought leaders due to their war alignments—deepens the wounds and prolongs the cycle of violence and counter-violence, even when they claim to oppose the war.

This civil war has left—and will continue to leave—deep scars and psychological and social trauma that cannot be healed easily. What the country needs today is not just a ceasefire, but a courageous human rights stance, and the establishment of a front to document and monitor violations and crimes, ensuring that no perpetrator escapes accountability, and that the banner of justice is raised above all political, tribal, and ethnic interests.

Sadly, I observe that the pre-war human rights platforms have been torn apart by the war itself, fragmented along tribal, ethnic, and political lines. Members now write about one violation here, while turning a blind eye and remaining silent about another violation there.

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What is happening in Sudan is not merely an armed conflict, but a humanitarian catastrophe fueled by an exclusionary mindset, rooted in carefully chosen words and a dark history in the human experience. Confronting this rhetoric and understanding its dimensions is a political and moral imperative—not only to protect the victims but to preserve what remains of our shared humanity.