Today’s announcement of UK sanctions on individuals and companies linked to Sudan’s gold trade exposes a stark reality: while civilians are being killed, displaced and starved, others are profiting from the conflict through illicit gold and shadow financial networks.
Billions of dollars’ worth of gold leave Sudan through illicit channels every year, helping sustain a war that has devastated communities, destroyed livelihoods and created the world’s worst humanitarian crisis. Behind the fighting on the ground lies a sophisticated web of financiers, procurement operatives, traders and companies converting natural resources into weapons, logistics and military capability.
They are the cogs in a lucrative war machine fuelling devastation across Sudan.
Sudan’s gold should be a source of prosperity. Instead, it has become a source of bloodshed. The UK’s decision to sanction individuals and entities linked to these networks, who are based in Dubai and Hong Kong, sends an important message: accountability must extend beyond the battlefield, and beyond Sudan’s borders.
Those who bankroll war, facilitate procurement, move money or profit from conflict cannot be allowed to operate in the shadows while ordinary Sudanese families bear the consequences.
This action comes at an important time. As the world watches the deteriorating situation unfold in El Obeid, warnings are becoming increasingly urgent. Reports of attacks on civilian infrastructure, fuel facilities and key supply routes are raising fears of another El Fasher. Hundreds of thousands of civilians are at risk, many of whom have already been displaced by previous rounds of violence.
The world watched the horrors of El Fasher unfold. We heard the testimonies of survivors. We saw the consequences when violence escalated and civilians were left unprotected. The fear now is that history could repeat itself.
But this outcome is not inevitable. History isn’t something that simply happens to us; it is shaped by the choices we make and the actions we take. This is one of those moments that future generations will look back on and judge.
The halls of international institutions and the pages of history are filled with reminders of atrocities that might have been prevented had the world acted sooner or with greater resolve. They bear the echoes of both courageous intervention and missed opportunity.
We are determined not to allow El Obeid to become a preventable tragedy. We do not want to look back years from now and ask ourselves whether more could have been done to save lives.
The international community still has agency, and we must use it. The UK’s diplomatic convening power should not be underestimated. As penholder on Sudan at the UN Security Council, we are working to keep international attention focused on the escalating risks in El Obeid. We’ve secured G7 consensus behind efforts to prevent escalation and to press all those with influence over the parties to the conflict to use it responsibly.
The reality is that Sudan’s war does not exist in a vacuum. Too many external actors continue to pursue their own interests through the conflict, treating the country as a geopolitical chessboard for power and plunder.
That is why today’s sanctions matter. They are not simply about financial restrictions or asset freezes. They are about disrupting the economic lifelines that keep conflict alive. They are about raising the cost of complicity. And they are about demonstrating that those who profit from war can no longer assume anonymity or impunity – no matter who they are or where they are based.
But sanctions alone will not end this conflict.
What is needed is sustained international pressure, accountability for atrocities, protection of civilians, unrestricted humanitarian access and a credible political pathway to peace.
The people of Sudan have endured more than three years of unimaginable suffering. They deserve action. They deserve a future where Sudan’s wealth fuels opportunity and development – not war.
Baroness Chapman of Darlington is the minister of state for international development and Africa
This article has been produced as part of The Independent’s Rethinking Global Aid project
