The United Arab Emirates has entered an unprecedented state of media mobilisation after mounting evidence of its operational and financial role in the Sudanese war, a conflict that has killed thousands of civilians and devastated entire cities such as El Fasher and Nyala. The effort seeks to launder Abu Dhabi’s image, now indelibly marked by the blood of Sudanese civilians.
Once international reports began tracing arms flows across Emirati territory and linking Abu Dhabi to support for the Rapid Support Forces, the palace moved quickly, summoning its paid media networks and influencers scattered across Arab capitals to rehabilitate the narrative and fortify a crumbling official storyline.
From Cairo to Amman and Beirut, and from coordinated bot swarms to television studios, a torrent of posts and broadcasts praised the UAE’s so called honourable positions and its support for Arab brothers. The script is familiar. Shift the discussion away from substantiated allegations of war crimes and toward claims of an Islamist conspiracy and a manufactured campaign of hatred against the state.
Rather than conceal the scandal, this frenzied mobilisation amplified it. When the chorus is assembled in so defensive and hysterical a fashion, the exposure grows larger than anything a crafted storyline can repair.
The Palace Rushes to Polish the Blood
As images from El Fasher spread, indirect calls from Abu Dhabi’s circles reached loyalists and Arab influencers: do something, defend the UAE, protect its reputation. Egyptian media personality Ahmed Moussa, one of the most prominent faces aligned with power, dutifully weighed in, railing against what he labelled an Islamist terror onslaught on the Emirates.
Moussa’s talking points simply echoed the palace. They reflected the anxiety within the Emirati power structure as documents, photographs and field testimonies continue to surface tying Abu Dhabi to the Sudan war.
This defensive discourse does not engage with facts or respond to evidence. It leans on emotion and slogans. The UAE deserves respect. It stood with us since 2013. It loves Egypt.
It is a bid to wrap blood in nostalgia and to replace questions about crimes with a storyline of brotherhood.
Yet this language has exposed the fragility of the argument. The campaign is not aimed at persuading the outside world so much as soothing a domestic audience unsettled by a flood of evidence and accusation.
From Denial to Dilution
The official strategy has shifted from blanket denial to narrative dilution. The goal is not to correct the picture but to blur it with noise.
Pro Emirati media saturate platforms with repetitive patriotic tropes. We are fighting terrorism. We protect regional stability. We confront hate campaigns. All the while the core issue is avoided. There is credible involvement in arming a militia that committed massacres against civilians in Darfur.
This evolution from denial to dilution reveals an internal recognition that falsehoods no longer work. The chosen survival tactic is to inflate the decibels to suffocate meaning.
When the paid voices multiply, the storyline fragments. From within it emerges a popular, often sardonic reaction that recognises fear rather than valour behind the shouting.
Whitewashing Through Investment and Sentiment
A pillar of the Emirati campaign is to deploy economic achievements and high profile investments as a public relations shield. The justification is framed as an equation. Whoever criticises the UAE is attacking success, stability and development.
Commercial, sporting and cultural ventures are enlisted as political instruments to recast the state as a force for good, while crimes are obscured behind skylines, ports and festivals.
In parallel, the language of Arab brotherhood is summoned to claim moral immunity. The UAE loves Arabs. It supports Egypt. It helps the needy.
In an age of open cameras and independent investigations, sentiment cannot cover blood, and few still believe that the billions poured into Sudan, Libya or Yemen are acts of charity.
Observers note that every time a media mercenary is called up, the core message is anxiety in Abu Dhabi. A palace commanding dozens of companies and outlets understands that images of mass graves in Darfur threaten the balance of its narrative about peace and stability.
Hence the rapid mobilisation of influencers and cheerleaders under a banner of sacred defence against enemies.
Each orchestrated tweet or television hit signals fear more than it conceals it.
Collective mobilisation convinces no one. It spotlights the scandal and gives it new momentum.
In the end, this is less about repairing external reputation than absorbing the shock internally.
Abu Dhabi recognises that the world does not trust its official communiqués and that international media possess ample documentation to expose its role. The focus therefore shifts to Gulf and Egyptian publics. The approach is to purchase sentiment with emotion and money, and to reanimate the Islamist bogeyman as a ready made scarecrow to justify every crime.
Every paid voice, every sponsored post, every exculpatory segment reinforces the conviction that the wrongdoing is deeper than acknowledged and that the anxiety in the corridors of power is greater than the regime can manage.
The scandal, quite simply, is no longer polishable, and each new mobilisation confirms that the battle is no longer over narrative alone but over what remains of a brand once marketed as a model of tolerance.
