The Open-Air Morgue of El-Fasher

The slaughter at Dar al-Arqam was not a “tragedy.” Tragedies are accidental, indifferent, unthinking. This was something older and fouler—the deliberate, ecstatic cruelty of men convinced that God smiles upon their butchery. The Rapid Support Forces of Sudan did not “misfire.” They meant it. They shelled a displacement camp, they torched the shelter, and they roasted the weak—the women, the infants, the grandfathers clutching what was left of their faith. They didn’t stumble into barbarism; they rejoiced in it.

The Western press, of course, mumbles about “complex regional dynamics,” as though this were an algebra problem. But you cannot balance an equation written in blood. What we are witnessing in Darfur is not complexity—it is clarity. The RSF is an Islamic paramilitary gang animated by the same old demon: the belief that the unbeliever must die, that the infidel’s tears are incense to heaven. It is a jihad not of swords but of drones, artillery, and imported cruelty, waged against Christians, animists, and anyone too human to bow.

Dar al-Arqam—named for one of the earliest Muslim houses of instruction—was turned into a furnace. Sixty civilians, at least. That’s the polite estimate. In reality, the numbers are as unreliable as the conscience of the United Nations. Activists called El-Fasher an “open-air morgue.” They are wrong only in the sense that a morgue implies someone will care enough to count the dead.

The RSF is not an army—it is an infection, metastasized from the same ideological tumor that destroyed Syria, that gutted Nigeria, that enslaves women in Iran. A theology of submission metastasized into a politics of extermination. It promises paradise but delivers ash. The men who burned those children alive believe they are purifying the world. They are, in fact, performing the oldest ritual in hell: sacrificing innocence to appease their own cowardice.

And what does the West do? It drafts resolutions, it tweets condolences, it funds “dialogue initiatives.” It dispatches NGOs to distribute tents to people whose homes have been vaporized. The West treats evil as a misunderstanding, not an adversary. It thinks it can negotiate with fanaticism the way it negotiates trade tariffs. But Islamism is not a lobby—it is a revelation, one that commands its followers to dominate or die trying.

Darfur’s Christians are not collateral damage; they are the point. They are the living contradiction to the Islamist creed. Their existence is intolerable because it proves that another moral order—one rooted in forgiveness, conscience, and the sanctity of every life—can exist. And so they must be erased, village by village, until only submission remains.

You will not find redemption in the resolutions of Brussels or the platitudes of the State Department. You will find it in the ancient, unteachable reflex of moral disgust—the one that makes a man say, “Enough.” The Sudanese Christians live it when they choose baptism over the blade.

The lesson is brutal but simple: civilization survives only when it draws a sword for what is sacred. The moment it hesitates, the pyres are lit.

El-Fasher is not the edge of the world; it is the mirror of it. Look closely. What you see there is not distant—it is your future if you forget that mercy without justice is not virtue, but suicide.