1 Introduction
The challenges of governance and peacebuilding in South Sudan
Steven C. Roach and Derrick K. Hudson
There were many high hopes when South Sudan achieved statehood in July 2011. With economic support and a robust UN peacekeeping presence, many expected that South Sudan would emerge into a fully-fledged state with stable democratic institutions. But as early as the fall of 2011 there were already signs of the conflict and corruption of Sudan that would thwart these expectations. For all the talk of democracy, human rights, and constitution building, few were willing to confront the political reality of instability and the corrosive effects of party factionalization. Indeed, the money or investment that was supposed to fund this vision (notably the revenue from its oil production) never reached its targets. Much of it is now documented to have been siphoned off by the leaders to enrich themselves and to profit from the war (Sentry Report, 2016).
It was therefore not surprising that so many remained skeptical of the 2015 peace deal, which established a new Transitional Government of National Unity (TGoNU) and sought to reintegrate the military forces in South Sudan (IGAD, 2015). After some promising signs, including Riek Machar’s reassuming the Vice Presidency in February 2016, Salva Kiir, the President of South Sudan, proceeded to attack the Sudan People’s Liberation Army in Opposition (SPLA-IO) forces stationed in Juba in July 2016, driving out Machar and unofficially killing the peace process (Roach, 2016a). Most recently, key actors in the conflict met in Addis Ababa on April 26, 2018, to revive the peace process. These actors included the SPLA-IO, the South Sudan United Front led by the ex-army chief Paul Malong, along with 14 other opposition groups. All insisted that the past two rounds of peace talks had failed because of the interventionist role of the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) in South Sudanese affairs.
With these political pressures, wide-scale famine, endemic violence that has driven out an estimated four million refugees into neighboring countries, deadly attacks on UN peacekeepers, and reports of widespread human rights abuses (including possible genocide), the country now finds itself in deep turmoil. Such turmoil, this edited book argues, is the result of a longstanding pattern of political manipulation and poor governance. As the contributors of this volume show, South Sudan’s political challenges stem from poor land ownership laws, inadequate institution building, ineffective leadership, and tactical opposition to the United Nations Mission in South Sudan (UNMISS). In short, South Sudan remains a country whose political elites continue to steal from the people/country, fight with one another, and operate with impunity.
In his book, A Poisonous Thorn in Our Hearts, James Copnall, the BBC Correspondent, argues that South Sudan’s problems can be attributed to a bitter divorce with Sudan and the attendant failure to secure the needed assurances for developing its institutions (Copnall, 2014). The break-up, he claims, involved many destabilizing factors, none being more important than corruption, which, as suggested above, has diverted foreign and state revenue away from the productive economic sector and institution building in general (see also Prendergast, 2015; Patey, 2014). Indeed, much like their Sudanese predecessors, South Sudan’s leaders have continued to divide and rule over their people, and to maintain a culture of impunity that has allowed many human rights atrocities, including torture and rape, to go unaccounted.
Poor governance can also be explained by the divisive effect of modernization in South Sudan. Prior to the civil war in South Sudan, there was already growing concern with the effect of commodification of tribal culture, or the monetization of traditional patrimonial practices. Cherry Leonardi, for example, argues that monetization generated considerable moral concern with the erosive effect of consumer and material wealth on tribal customs (Leonardi, 2011, 216–217). There was, as she suggests, considerable suspicion of the new military elite’s exploitation of tribal customs, much of which could be attributed to the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), which had failed to resolve this and many of the factors driving the cycle of violence, including disputed borders and the weak commitments to democratic institution building (See Rolandsen, 2015; Johnson, 2013; LeRiche and Matthews, 2012). In fact, between 2005 and 2011, political leaders were able to expand their patronage and kinship networks and to ultimately institute their patrimonial practices at the state level.
South Sudan, one could therefore argue, was troubled from the start. And despite considerable hope that it could adopt a permanent constitution to build national unity and develop its fledgling institutions, there was the looming issue of whether it could work towards the party consensus, accountability, and transparency needed to overcome the deep-seated cycle of violence. This volume of chapters examines this central issue plaguing South Sudan, by integrating its analyses around three main themes: (1) the deep-seated flaws of state-building; (2) the structural causes and effects of poor governance; and (3) ineffective foreign intervention aimed at promoting peacebuilding and security arrangements. These themes, as the chapters show, reflect the gap between domestic and international aims/strategies of promoting peace and stability, which has created deep-seated effects that will be difficult to reverse. Yet by probing the various political, cultural, and economic factors that have widened this gap, this edited book seeks to shed light on the forces undermining the prospects of implementing power-sharing measures, judicial accountability mechanisms, and the effective integration of the security forces.
Historical background: the CPA problem(s)
The many challenges facing South Sudan’s governance can be traced to the second civil war in Sudan (1983–2005) and the shortcomings of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA). When Jaafar Mohamed al-Nimeiri, the leader of Sudan (and the Sudanese communist party), signed a peace agreement with the southern rebels in 1972, he had hoped that an autonomous region in the south would appease the southern Sudanese (Kebbede, 1999). However, his decision to dissolve this autonomy and then implement Sharia (Islamic law) in the southern region (mandating the instruction of Arabic in southern Sudan) – where a majority of Christians resided – deeply offended the southern Sudanese, leading one of Sudan’s army commanders, John Garang de Mabior, to defect and establish the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA). The SPLA was committed to liberating the southern people from the oppressive rule of Khartoum (Collins, 2008). And while it remained a unified movement throughout much of the 1980s, several of the top commanders had become increasingly disenchanted with Garang’s authority.
In 1991, Riek Machar and Lam Akol, Nuer-based commanders of the SPLA, established their own factions, calling themselves the SPLM-in opposition. It was an internal split that testified not only to the highly decentralized command structure of the SPLA, but also to the growing patronage networks (as mentioned above) that had enabled the commanders, with their military influence and wealth, to build the loyalty of their own subordinates (Johnson, 2003). The rift was worsened by the meddling of the government of Sudan, which, in supporting Machar’s campaign (via the signing of a Peace Charter in 1997) against Garang, deepened the distrust between the two leaders.
By the early 2000s, however, these leaders would mend their differences, paving the way for an internationally brokered peace process and the eventual signing of the CPA in 2005. The Machakos Protocols established the broad principles for the CPA and provided the basis for broad agreements on the issues of self-determination of the southern people. Mediating the peace talks was the Troika (the US, Britain, and Norway), which sought to secure compromises and agreements by both sides on various issues, including wealth sharing (IGAD).1 The negotiations took place from 2002 to late 2004, and involved only two parties, the GoS (Government of Sudan) and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A). Here, the Troika used its influence to get both sides to agree to terms that limited the participation of other political actors and forces. This allowed the negotiations to be conducted with a degree of secrecy that privileged the interests of these two parties. In other words, the Troika exercised substantial control over negotiations and the terms of the protocols, helping to exclude other members of the IGAD from negotiations, which included Ethiopia, Uganda, and civil society actors. Such exclusion created considerable unease among these actors, many of whom had come to see human rights abuses and weak democratic accountability as drivers of the conflict (Young, 2007, 101). In the end, the two principals of the warring parties, Garang and Ali Osman Taha, the Vice President of Sudan, represented these parties at the negotiating table. This seemed a risky move since if the negotiations failed there would be no higher authority to which to appeal (no democratic procedure existed to hold these two principals to account for their decisions) (Rolandsen, 2015). Still, if there was one clear aim in mind, it was to limit the destabilizing influence of internal strife within both parties, such that the leaders could move efficiently forward with a comprehensive peace plan for Sudan.
The CPA’s core provisions consisted of protocols and agreements addressing a range of issues dividing the North and South, including the sharing of oil revenue, the definition of non-oil revenue, the political fate of Abyei (referendum), the permanent boundaries in the Blue Nile, South Kordofan, and Abyei regions, the new political structure of the Government of Southern Sudan (GoSS), and a framework of the referendum for independence of the southern region.2 The CPA also provided the framework for an interim constitution of the GoSS, as well as the dual option (for the GoSS) of joining Sudan as an autonomous unit or seceding from Sudan. But not long after the signing of the CPA in January 2005, Garang was killed in a helicopter crash on July 30, 2006 (LeRiche and Arnold, 2012, 137). Kiir would take his place as the new leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM). And despite his lack of education, Kiir proved adept at uniting the different factions within the SPLA. But in the end, he failed to carry out Garang’s political vision: namely, to democratize the SPLM or to clearly demarcate the boundary between political and military decision-making. This failure would have a long-lasting and destabilizing effect on the institutional development and democratization of the new state of South Sudan, which was established in July 2011.
In late 2011, Kiir attempted to amend the Transitional Constitution, supposedly to gain control over the political process. Tensions between the political leaders quickly began to rise, eroding much of the good will and solidarity achieved at the All Southern Sudanese Political Parties Conference in October 2010, which had established a road map for a new democratic sovereign state.3 More than anything, Kiir’s ill-timed move signaled a willingness to isolate other elites (Cope 2015, 305–306). And it was a move that would be followed by his decision to replace eight ministers as well as Machar himself as Vice President in July 2013.4 On December 15, 2013 Kiir, suspecting that Machar was planning a coup d’etat, dispatched troops into the streets and the offices of his political rivals, triggering a series of clashes and a two-year civil war that would fracture the SPLM into three dominant groups: the SPLM-government, SPLM-in-opposition, and the SPLM-former political detainees.
By 2014, reports emerged evidencing human rights abuses by both sides, including torture, murder, rape, and forced detention. The number of refugees fleeing to the local compounds of the United Nations Mission in South Sudan reached nearly 200,000 (International Crisis Group, 2014). In all, the civil war in South Sudan has caused an estimated 50,000 deaths, and displaced nearly two million civilians, leaving countless victims traumatized by the violence (Human Rights Watch, 2014). Much, if not all the blame, could be placed on the failure of the leaders of the warring sides to set aside their personal grievances and to cultivate solidarity among the many ethnic and tribal groups inside South Sudan.
Political manipulation and ethnic cleavages
South Sudan is comprised of three major tribal groups: The Nilotic, Nilo Hamitic and South Western Sudanic. The two most dominant ethnic groups, the Nuer and Dinka, constitute over 50 percent of the present-day population of South Sudan (with the Dinka comprising 36 percent, and the Nuer 16 percent).5 Neither the Dinka nor Nuer can be considered a homogeneous group of Nilotic people, meaning that there is no one group of Dinka or Nuer per se, but rather smaller intra-ethnic or tribal groups, most notably in the case of the Malwal, Awan, Tonj, Rek, Atwot, Ciec, Agar, Bor, Gok, Padang, Abyeilang, Ruweng, Ageer, Dongojol, Panaru, and Ngok; while for the Nuer, it is the Lou, Jikany, Gaajak, Gaajuk, Dok, Bul, Lek, Nyong, Ador, and Gawaar (Prunier, 2014).
Yet it would be misleading to say that ethnic differences are the source of hatred and ongoing conflict in South Sudan. For many, the real source lies in the political elites’ determination to manipulate these ethnic and tribal differences to gain political advantage (Natsios, 2015). This is something that the global media tends to gloss over, or is too quick to explain away in terms of tribal war or ‘tribality’ (the so-called “T-word”) to convey the irrationality of ethnic violence.6 What is more, modernization inside Juba and other major villages in South Sudan – where much of the wealth is concentrated – has compelled members of ethnic groups to reject objectionable tribal practices, such as Gaar, which refers to the cuts to the forehead of a young Nuer to prove his manhood. In this sense, one could argue that modernization constitutes a longstanding challenge to tribal values as well as the authority of tribal chiefs to uphold these values (Leonardi, 2011, 216–217). But to say that it laid the basis for an emerging national consciousness of southern Sudan is to underestimate the many divisions and splits inside the SPLA/M.
Indeed, it could also be argued that factionalization was the reason that the SPLA never evolved into an effective political organization (Adwok, 1996); that it was this factor that reflected the emergence of a self-serving, elite military class with little, if any political vision. Alex de Waal’s (2016) concept of the “political marketplace” describes how leaders in the African Horn countries use and broker their political power. Here, military commanders can drive up the price of patronage by staging rent seeking rebellion, in which they resist their political l...