In a valuable study published in Alam Al-Fikr (The World of Thought), a peer-reviewed academic journal issued by the National Council for Culture, Arts and Letters in Kuwait, Egyptian researcher Salah Salem presents an image of nations as they pass through different stages of their historical development. Nations, like individuals, he argues, go through a life cycle that begins with childhood, followed by youth, maturity, and finally old age. The author explains that in their early stages, nations are innocent like children, learning from others without embarrassment. In their youth, nations are full of hope and vitality and remain open to others. In maturity, however, nations become “like a man who realizes that his best days are behind him, no longer able to aspire to anything new; the desire for knowledge has faded, the wonder of questioning has disappeared, and the brilliance of discovery is no longer visible.” In old age, nations “become like an elderly man whose physical strength has stiffened and whose mental faculties have declined, weakening his once-free will. He begins to withdraw from people and from time itself, longing for his youth and his past. Nostalgia becomes stronger than aspiration... until he no longer strives for anything or looks forward to anything.” I reflected on this striking classification and asked myself: in which stage are we, as Sudanese, currently living? Despite my desperate attempts to avoid answering this question, the answer appeared as clear as daylight and impossible to deny or ignore: according to this classification, we are indeed living in the fourth stage—the stage of old age. Our physical strength has, in fact, grown weak. The evidence lies in our inability to produce our own food despite repeatedly describing Sudan as “the food basket of the Arab world.” We have become dependent on others for basic sustenance, including countries to which our ancestors once provided assistance in times of need. Women, men, and children have stood in bread queues, and people near and far have witnessed our condition. Images of this humiliating reality have been broadcast through visual, print, and audio media. We have become a subject of global discussion, an object of pity, and at times even ridicule—a symbol of hunger, poverty, and deprivation. Our factories have ceased operating and become ruins that break the heart, telling stories of a past better than the present, of faded glory, and of “the structure of a people brought to collapse.” Our intellectual capacities, too, have been afflicted by decline. The clearest evidence is our obvious inability to find solutions to our economic, social, political, and security problems, which have only grown worse. We have failed profoundly in confronting these challenges. And how could we succeed when Sudanese expertise in every field has migrated abroad: experienced economists, qualified doctors, distinguished engineers, veteran university professors, highly competent legal professionals, and gifted intellectuals? Sadly, these Sudanese professionals are now contributing to the development of other countries—building their educational systems, infrastructure, and healthcare services. They are examples of competence, diligence, integrity, noble values, and adherence to the principles of their faith. They left because they could no longer secure even the most basic requirements of a dignified life in their own country. They departed reluctantly and under necessity, with their hearts breaking at the thought of leaving their homeland and families. Our education system, once admired not only regionally but internationally, has now fallen into serious decline. Countries that once sought our assistance in establishing their schools and educational institutions and developing their curricula now look down upon us with contempt. Our universities, which once competed with leading institutions around the world, have largely disappeared from global and regional university rankings. The forced migration of qualified professionals and the deterioration of education have also left Sudanese institutions unable to attract competent, qualified, and patriotic personnel. Since a vacuum never remains empty, some individuals lacking both academic qualifications and institutional, professional, and ethical standards rushed into these institutions and occupied leadership positions. They spread corruption within them, and the result was comprehensive destruction affecting nearly every aspect of life. As the poet said: Affairs are properly managed by people of sound judgment as long as they remain in charge; But when they withdraw, matters fall into the hands of the wicked. How can guidance prevail when you are among people Whose minds are bound by chains that prevent them from following reason? In ignorance, they handed the reins to those who mislead them, And so all of them became trapped in the ropes of error. The verses of the Sudanese poet Ali Nur have become even more applicable to us today, though he wrote them in a better era: Every man in Sudan occupies a place that is not his own; Wealth is in the hands of the miser, and the sword in the hands of the coward. A man is no longer judged by his two finest qualities—his heart and his tongue— But by the perfection of his appearance, hypocrisy, and pretence. There is little doubt that we are a nation living in the final stage of old age, because our yesterday has become better than our today. We now endlessly revisit memories and live on the recollection of the past. When we speak about the past and cling to it, we are in reality speaking about our own failure, disappointment, poor management, and perhaps even our misfortune. Peoples across much of the world have advanced and achieved accomplishments that astonish the mind, while we have immersed ourselves in conflict, sterile debate, and fighting. Our nostalgia for the past has indeed become stronger than our aspiration for the future. We have made almost no serious effort to anticipate the future, we have no clear plans for confronting it, and we have few hopes that we genuinely expect to realize. We have become passive, deprived of creativity, pessimistic about the possibility of renewal, and inattentive to opportunities that, if seized, could transform our circumstances for the better. We have surrendered like a patient suffering from an incurable illness, simply waiting for death. We are living through a decisive moment in our history. Unless we recognize these realities clearly, we will not advance even a single step. If we truly understood the immense gap between us and peoples who possess resources and capabilities similar to ours, we would be overwhelmed with sorrow for ourselves. As the poet Muhammad Said Al-Abbasi said: If the people of Sudan truly knew where they stood In comparison with other nations, they would perish from grief and pity. I have never doubted the unique capabilities or distinctive values of the Sudanese people. Yet many of their leaders lack political imagination. Political imagination refers to “the ability to transcend the crises and difficulties of a given situation,” as Dr. Hassan Hanafi described it, or “the combined use of reason and imagination to formulate comprehensive visions for solving the problems of the present,” as defined by Ali Al-Rahhal, among other definitions cited by Dr. Ammar Ali Hassan in his valuable book Political Imagination. Dr. Ammar, drawing on the work of the well-known American psychologist Tom Lombardo, identifies several cognitive dimensions upon which awareness of the future is based. Among them are imagination and foresight: the ability to create hypothetical scenarios and imagined realities in our minds, and the capacity to envision what may occur in the future. This is essential because the ability to imagine, which makes foresight possible, represents one of the highest forms of creativity. But do Sudanese leaders possess this capacity for imagination and foresight? If the answer is yes, why then do they stumble in this way? Where is their vision of the future? Why have they made such disastrous mistakes that have left us wishing we could return to the 1960s? Or are they afflicted by aphantasia, the inability to imagine? What is clear is that imagination has not been used to envision how the country’s immense opportunities and resources could be harnessed for national development and progress. Instead, it has largely revolved around ways of reaching power, enjoying authority and wealth, and pursuing narrow personal interests. Sudan was once known and respected because of the efforts and vibrant patriotism of earlier generations. Today, however, it has become almost forgotten. In its current condition, its sons compete over positions of power like children impatiently waiting for their father to die so they can enjoy the inheritance. Sudanese elites became preoccupied with competition over political office and focused on the means while losing sight of the goal. Hardly anyone asked: How should Sudan be governed? Instead, the central question around which conferences were held and crowds mobilized remained: Who should govern Sudan? Another indicator of future awareness is the ability to define objectives precisely, develop plans, mobilize resources, and work systematically toward achieving those objectives. One must therefore ask: Where are the national goals that were defined? Where are the plans that were developed and implemented to achieve them? Where are the resources allocated for those goals? And how far have we progressed toward achieving them? Sadly, one reaches the conclusion that almost none of this has truly taken place. Certainly, Sudanese elites have repeatedly spoken of five-year plans, ten-year plans, and similar programs. Yet these plans have produced neither meaningful growth nor genuine development. The country has continued to revolve in a cycle of failure and disappointment year after year. Either the plans were flawed from the outset, or they were not implemented in a manner capable of achieving their intended objectives. Both possibilities indicate an absence of genuine awareness of the future. When we speak of future awareness, we do not mean the individual efforts of political leaders. Rather, we mean that the political elite, whether governing or in opposition, should collectively possess awareness of the future and conduct broad debates about its opportunities and challenges, as well as the country’s realities and unique characteristics. These discussions should ultimately produce deep and coherent visions that enable Sudanese realities to be understood in light of future opportunities and threats, so that the country can prepare to confront future challenges with insight and appropriate plans that take into account future developments, national circumstances, and available resources. One of the clearest signs of awareness of the future is an openness of mind to creativity: the ability to engage with opinions and ideas that differ from one’s own without intolerance or rigidity, as well as the capacity to produce unconventional ideas. In other words, it requires the ability to think creatively and innovatively—what is commonly described as creativity and innovation. Unfortunately, Sudan’s political arena in recent years has lacked genuine creativity in producing new ideas in administration, economics, politics, and social affairs. So-called “thinkers” continue to repeat familiar arguments and clichés that have circulated for decades, despite the profound political, social, and economic transformations taking place in the country, as well as rapid global developments that require adaptation if we are not to fall even further behind other nations. Another indication of future awareness is the ability of the national elite to diagnose the country’s problems with great precision, develop appropriate solutions, implement those solutions, and evaluate them through feedback, taking whatever policies and decisions are necessary in light of that feedback. Perhaps one of the most important indicators of future awareness is the process of political decision-making. Decision-making is not a random matter; it is a strictly scientific process based on collecting information, classifying and analyzing it, formulating available alternatives, and then weighing those alternatives objectively and scientifically in order to make the decision most appropriate to the situation. The decision-making process, however, faces difficulties and obstacles that may prevent decision-makers from seeing the situation clearly and from controlling the political environment in which a decision will be implemented. These include insufficient information, changes in the elements of the situation, an inability to predict the reactions of parties affected by the decision, and the psychological and emotional pressures placed on political decision-makers. Some writings about Sudan in this regard are deeply troubling, if accurate. One writer claimed that a prominent Sudanese leader, when faced with an important decision, would “sleep on istikhara,” seeking guidance through dreams. Another concluded that many Arab elites, including in Sudan, place greater trust in fortune-tellers than in research and policy centers. As Khalil Gibran said: “Woe to a nation whose philosopher is a charlatan.” This is not an exercise in self-flagellation, nor is it intended to diminish the value of the efforts that have been made or to question the sincere intentions of a broad segment of the enlightened elite that has successively governed the country. Rather, it is a call to abandon the old methods through which we have managed our affairs for decades—methods under which we repeatedly tested what had already failed and invented practices unknown to earlier generations, only to reap thorns. It is a call to change our approach, bring about an unprecedented transformation in our circumstances, create unconventional solutions to our problems, and adopt sound scientific methods in our policies, decisions, and planning, in the hope that we may enter a new era of development and progress. As for those who deliberately obstruct the country’s progress, indulge in corruption, and waste its resources, their appointed hour will come, and there the wrongdoers will be the losers.