Photo by Igor Omilaev on Unsplash
A matter of months ago, an event at the Conduit Club in London examined whether the conflict in Sudan had been forgotten. With great passion, panellists reminded the audience that the conflict certainly had not been forgotten by the civilians suffering through it. But they conceded that it was perhaps being ignored, whether in terms of policy-making, media attention, or indeed the general public discourse.
All that changed with the capture of El-Fasher by the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) from the Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) at the end of October. Images went viral on social media, putting a spotlight on the conflict that had been previously lacking. When a significant number of those images turned out to have been faked using artificial intelligence (AI), or misinterpreted old images from other times and even other countries, a debate ensued about the challenges of reporting a conflict when an image travels the world via social media much faster than it can be verified.
Well-documented investigations by the BBC, Deutsche Welle, AFP, and other outlets have revealed multiple viral images from El-Fasher and Darfur—such as purported RSF atrocities and refugee suffering—that were fabricated using AI or recycled from other conflicts or regions.
BBC’s respected ‘BBC Verify’ team explained that an image claimed to show the shadows of two men holding guns in front of a woman on the ground holding a young boy had immediate clues that it was made with AI. AFP’s Fact Check team came to the same conclusion, detailing that the image of the woman and the child facing imminent death in Sudan was not authentic. This week, AFP exposed two more images that were supposedly of the Sudan conflict as being from completely different times and places. One video turned out to be from a UNESCO-listed fishing festival in Nigeria from March 2020. The other was in fact an AFP photo first published on November 25, 2008, with a caption saying it was taken in Goma, a city in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
German broadcaster Deutsche Welle came to similar conclusions, demonstrating via reverse image searches showing that images that had gone viral on social media were originally posted long before key dates in the El-Fasher timeline, in particular a video, supposedly of RSF troops threatening a Sudanese mother, to a TikTok upload dated before the fall of El-Fasher, proving it could not possibly depict those events. Furthermore, analysis of the dialogue reveals the men shown are soldiers from the SAF, rather than the RSF, and that they do not threaten the woman.
The problem is not only that these false images are generated, or that old images from other countries are presented as being of the Sudan conflict. It is also the rapidity with which such images circulate, at lightning speed, and certainly much faster than traditional media could investigate the authenticity of the image. Added to the speed is the tinderbox environment of social media. Amongst the Sudan-watchers, there are clear divisions. Whether due to nationality or politics, many who bother to follow the conflict feel a sense of sympathy for one side or the other. Many of their connections are like-minded individuals or organisations. The echo chamber effect adds to the speed with which the images are shared. It is likely those with vested interests also plant and promote the fake or misinterpreted images so as to promote their side of the war. The effect is incendiary, and by the time the fact checkers at AFP, the BBC, or Deutsche Welle are on the case, it is already too late. The false image has already shaped the narrative and infiltrated public perception. It has broken out of its original niche Sudan-watcher bubble and into the mainstream.
Aside from the valiant efforts of the fact-checking teams at the BBC, AFP and Deutsche Welle, the overall international media picture in terms of war-reporting is one of decline. Global newsrooms have lost millions in annual funding. As core budgets shrink, many media organisations rely more on cheaper “parachute journalism,” reduce frontline staff, or become increasingly dependent on NGO-facilitated reporting trips, which raise concerns about independence, balance, and depth of coverage. Even the highly esteemed Financial Times, a beacon in the media landscape, would often have a byline from Egypt or Kenya on its Sudan reporting, indicating that the journalist was not reporting from on the ground in Sudan. Whether for reasons of budget, security, or simply being too overstretched to directly cover large swathes of the continent, the result is that even the mighty FT struggles to report from inside the war-torn country.
The level of suffering in Sudan cannot be denied and there is ongoing scrutiny of both sides, whether by the United Nations’ fact-finding mission to investigate what happened in El-Fasher, or the United States spotlight on the SAF’s use of chemical weapons that led to sanctions. The loss of life, attacks on civilians, famine and the displacement of millions all mean that international organisations and governments, traditional media, social media and the public should indeed be focused on the impacts of the war on Sudanese civilians. The combined challenge of AI images in a speed-of-light social media environment means there is a real risk that such stakeholders lose trust in how the conflict is being reported to them, right at the moment when they should be eagle-eyed.
