Borders

Egypt has moved from rhetorical backing of Sudan’s army to active enabler of its war effort, with a covert drone hub on Egyptian soil symbolising how Cairo has tied its regional strategy to the survival of the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) against the Rapid Support Forces (RSF).

Since fighting erupted between the SAF and RSF in April 2023, Egypt has framed its stance as defence of Sudan’s “unity, sovereignty and territorial integrity” and of its “national institutions, particularly the Sudanese Armed Forces.” Officially, President Abdel Fattah al‑Sisi repeats pledges of “non‑interference,” presenting Egypt’s role as limited to mediation, humanitarian aid and hosting Sudanese refugees.

In practice, that line has steadily eroded. Years of joint drills, intelligence sharing and arms ties since 2019 created deep interoperability between the two militaries, well before the civil war began. Egyptian troops captured by the RSF at Merowe airbase in April 2023 were explained away as being on pre‑scheduled exercises, a narrative few regional observers accepted.

The New York Times investigation into East Oweinat in Egypt’s Western Desert crystallises this shift from backstage support to direct operational involvement. Satellite imagery, flight records and videos show a once‑civil agricultural airstrip expanded since 2018 with a second runway, new hangars and satellite links, and by 2025 hosting Turkish Akinci combat drones.

According to U.S. and European officials cited in that reporting, those drones have for at least six months flown strike missions into Sudan, hitting RSF targets up to hundreds of miles inside the country, including convoys on supply routes from Libya and Chad. The drones and their munitions match Turkish systems, but are based on Egyptian territory and shield Sudan’s military assets from RSF retaliation, blurring whether Cairo is merely hosting or also directing the campaign.

For Cairo, East Oweinat offers plausible deniability: operations are embedded in a desert reclamation project far from public scrutiny, yet close enough to Sudan’s border to project sustained air power. For Sudan’s army, it is a lifeline in a war where the RSF has excelled at capturing bases and shooting down drones; at least several Akinci units have reportedly been lost to RSF fire in recent months.

RSF statements and battlefield evidence further illuminate the depth of Egyptian support. In January 2026 the RSF published what it called “irrefutable” proof of Egypt’s direct role, citing captured Egyptian‑made ammunition, armoured vehicles and testimonies from detained SAF‑aligned commanders who described arms, training and medical support routed from Egypt.

Egypt’s wager on the SAF is rooted in hard security and regime‑survival logic. Egyptian strategists see Sudan’s collapse as an existential threat, evoking fears of refugee flows and arms smuggling on a porous southern frontier. Control of the Nile is still more fundamental: since the 2019 fall of Omar al‑Bashir, Cairo has tightened security and military coordination with Khartoum to present a united front against Ethiopia’s GERD and protect its historic water share.

There is also an ideological affinity. General Abdel Fattah al‑Burhan is a career officer with long‑standing ties to Egyptian commanders, and his military rule mirrors Sisi’s own path from barracks to presidency. Backing the SAF fits a long‑standing Egyptian instinct to side with Sudan’s regular army “whoever is in charge of it,” and more broadly to prefer strong central militaries over unruly civilian transitions in the Arab world. The SAF’s reliance upon Muslim Brotherhood–aligned militias and ideologues, including the glorification of early militant figures such as Bara Bin Malik, against the backdrop of Washington’s formal designation of key Muslim Brotherhood chapters as terrorist organisations, should be unsettling to Cairo.

Yet by 2026, Egypt’s bet looks increasingly brittle. The war has killed tens of thousands, displaced more than 14 million and pushed parts of Sudan close to famine, while neither side has secured decisive control. Burhan’s legitimacy is deeply disputed: he led the 2021 coup that derailed a fragile civilian‑military transition, and many of the forces that drove the 2018–19 uprising see him as the continuation of military dominance, not a route to elections.

Cairo’s categorical rejection of “parallel entities” and alternative governments in exile is presented as a defence of Sudanese unity, but in effect delegitimises broad civilian coalitions trying to organise outside the SAF–RSF binary. By equating Sudan’s “national institutions” with the current military leadership, Egypt narrows the field of acceptable interlocutors to a junta whose territorial control and popular backing are both eroding.

At the same time, Egypt seeks recognition as a mediator, through formats like the Quad and by hosting conferences of Sudanese civil and political actors in Cairo. That posture sits uneasily with explicit promises not to be “lax or late in supporting the legitimate Sudanese government” under Burhan, and with mounting evidence of Egyptian‑based air operations in the conflict. The covert base in the desert, and the drones that rise from its runways toward Sudanese skies, have become emblematic of a policy that claims non‑interference while in practice helping to lock Sudan into a devastating, externalised war.

Recent arguments advocating for the international recognition of an integral part of Somalia called Somaliland rest on a series of assumptions that deserve closer scrutiny. While proponents portray Somaliland as a unified, stable, and strategically indispensable state deserving immediate recognition, the realities on the ground tell a far more complicated story.

The first and most fundamental misconception is that the former British Somaliland Protectorate exists today as a coherent political entity. It does not.

The territory that briefly gained independence in June 1960 ceased to exist when it voluntarily united with the Trust Territory of Somalia to form the Somali Republic. More importantly, the geographic and political boundaries claimed by today’s Somaliland administration are neither uncontested nor uniformly accepted by the populations living within them.

Over the past two years, the eastern regions of Sool, Sanaag, and parts of Cayn (SSC) have demonstrated precisely this reality. Following prolonged conflict and popular mobilisation, local communities overwhelmingly rejected rule from Hargeisa and established the North Eastern administration, which has since aligned itself with the Federal Government of Somalia. The people of these regions have made clear that they do not share Somaliland’s secessionist project and instead seek their future within a federal Somali state alongside the vast majority of the Somali people. This development alone undermines the central claim that Somaliland represents a unified political community exercising uncontested authority over the territory it claims.

In the west of the Somaliland region, growing political movements in Awdal have increasingly questioned Hargeisa’s perceived monopoly over political and economic decision-making. Calls for a distinct regional administration have gained momentum, reflecting longstanding grievances regarding political representation, economic development, and governance. These dynamics suggest that the future political map of northwestern Somalia is far more fluid than some advocates of recognition acknowledge.

Recognition advocates frequently point to Somaliland’s stability. Yet, stability cannot be measured solely by the existence of institutions or periodic elections. Genuine stability requires political inclusion, territorial legitimacy, and social consensus. None of these conditions currently exists within the Somali territory of Somaliland.

The reality is that the Somaliland secessionist project faces significant internal opposition. Political disagreements, clan-based tensions, territorial disputes, and competing visions of governance remain unresolved. International recognition cannot erase these challenges. Indeed, it risks intensifying them by encouraging zero-sum political calculations among communities that already feel excluded from decision-making processes.

Equally problematic is the argument that Somaliland’s recognition should be driven primarily by geopolitical competition in the Red Sea. The Horn of Africa should not become another arena where local political disputes are transformed into instruments of broader regional rivalries. Moreover, the attempts to frame Somaliland as a strategic asset in competition with Iran, the Houthis, China, or other global actors overlook a basic reality: sustainable security arrangements cannot be built on unresolved sovereignty disputes.

History offers numerous examples of external powers pursuing short-term strategic gains only to discover that local realities ultimately prevail. Durable partnerships emerge from political legitimacy and regional consensus, not from efforts to bypass internationally recognised states.

Recent developments surrounding Israel’s engagement in the region further illustrate this danger. Rather than producing greater cohesion, external involvement has generated new political tensions and heightened anxieties among local communities concerned about militarisation, foreign influence, and the future direction of regional governance.

The disingenuous assumption that foreign recognition of the Somaliland part of Somalia automatically translates into stability is not supported by any evidence. Moreover, recognition of Somaliland would not simply affect Somalia, as it would carry implications far beyond the Horn of Africa.

The African Union has consistently maintained its commitment to preserving inherited borders and resolving disputes through dialogue. This principle has been essential in preventing countless territorial conflicts across the continent. Creating exceptions without a broad regional consensus risks opening debates that many African states have spent decades working to contain.

The path to lasting peace and stability in Somalia, like in most post-conflict states, lies not in fragmentation but in reconciliation, dialogue, and constitutional settlement among Somalis themselves. Significant progress has already been made through federal institutions, expanding political participation, and locally driven governance arrangements. While challenges remain, they are best addressed through inclusive internal political processes rather than externally imposed outcomes in line with international law.

The Somali government remains committed to dialogue, reconciliation, and constitutional processes that allow all Somali communities to participate in shaping the country’s future. Sustainable peace and stability globally and, specifically, in the Horn of Africa at this most challenging time in human history will be achieved not through fragmentation, but inclusive political solutions that strengthen cooperation, legitimacy, and national unity.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.