[O]ur detractors have already written us off, even before the proclamation of our independence. They say we will slip in to civil war as soon as our flag is hoisted. They justify that by arguing that we are incapable of resolving our problems through dialogue. They charge that we are quick to revert to violence. They claim that our concept of democracy and freedom is faulty. It is incumbent upon us to prove them all wrong!
This was Salva Kiir Mayardit, president of South Sudan, on Independence Day, 9 July 2011.
Two years later the detractors were proven right. Competition for political power had turned violent, and would eventually shake the foundations of the new Republic of South Sudan. Before its third birthday, the dream of independence and freedom had turned into a nightmare. The liberators risked destroying the very country they had spent decades fighting for.
How could this happen?
South Sudan’s journey to nationhood had been characterized not only by decades of liberation war, colonial and Sudanese violence against Southern communities, and local conflict, but also by the resilience of its people. They had faced destruction of their livelihood and societies, famine, displacement, and resort to foreign countries. But they had also sustained the hope that this suffering in the end would be rewarded with independence.
As minister of international development for Norway, I was deeply involved in the negotiations that led to the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) in 2005 between the Government of Sudan and the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A). After almost five decades Africa’s longest civil war had ended. The CPA did not grant the Southerners independence; it guaranteed self-determination. The parties were giving unity a chance, over an interim period of six years, after which Southern Sudan would have the right to hold a referendum on its own future. In January 2011, an overwhelming majority chose independence.
After the CPA was signed in 2005, the United Nations was tasked with supporting its implementation. Southern Sudan, for its part, had to go through at least three internal changes, each extremely demanding. Transition from war to peace, for people who had known little but war, was a major shift. Transition from liberation struggle to government was another. Third was the complex transition to independence. All three transitions were still under way on Independence Day 2011, when I took the helm as Special Representative of the UN Secretary-General (SRSG) and head of its mission in South Sudan (UNMISS).
South Sudan separated from Sudan in 2011 before all the terms of the ‘divorce’ had been reached. Relations between the neighbours were expected to be difficult, but few foretold bombing raids hitting refugee camps, occupation of oil fields and a complete shutdown of oil production in South Sudan, which in turn affected all efforts of state-building and peace-building.
At the same time, South Sudan had major internal security problems. The country’s largest state, Jonglei, was mired in a cycle of communal violence in which thousands of civilians had been killed. The country’s hallmark ethnic diversity posed a challenge to building national identity. Jonglei was a microcosm testing the country’s leadership and us in the UN.
The transition from liberation struggle to government was predictably difficult. The country was awash with weapons, mostly in civilian hands. Lack of commitment prevented necessary reform. Separating the liberation movement from the SPLA and turning the Movement into a political party and the liberation force into a national army – stalled.
The liberators failed to use the interim CPA period to strengthen the foundations on which the country could be built, and ignored warnings against corruption and mismanagement. Following this ‘liberation curse’, South Sudan was soon afflicted by the ‘oil curse’. Oil revenue became an irresistible temptation for cadres who had spent most of their lives in the bush. Resources lubricated patronage networks, while significant amounts were simply syphoned to foreign bank accounts. State institutions, including the Army, were insufficiently developed to sustain the pressure of an escalating political crisis.
That violence could occur was clear to many of us, and serious efforts were made to prevent it. The international community, myself included, could still have done more. But the speed, scale and gravity of the December 2013 violence shocked everyone, including South Sudanese leaders themselves. They played with fire, and allowed a power struggle to put everything they had fought for at risk. That tensions bursting to the surface had deeper roots and were influenced by other factors is clear, but responsibility for what happened rests with the leaders, across factions.
The civil war that followed had devastating consequences. Millions were affected. The atrocities committed were beyond comprehension, the intransigence of the leaders appalling. It was as if people no longer mattered. The social fabric of South Sudan was tearing apart. The nation-building project, which was extremely hard to begin with, would now be more difficult than ever. It was set back decades.
This book covers the period from my arrival until the end of my tenure in July 2014. The Epilogue captures recent developments and reflections on the way forward for South Sudan; it shows that there is not much reason for optimism. But there is still a glimmer of hope.
Prior to my departure I paid a farewell visit to Malakal and met tens of thousands of displaced who had sought refuge in the UNMISS compound after December 2013. A small group of prayer women came forward to greet me, a life of pain and suffering written over their faces. The oldest of them offered the most precious gift, her own hymn book, torn at the seams and with her own personal notes. As we embraced I felt an immense gratitude. It was I who needed to thank them for allowing me to serve. It was the South Sudanese people who now gave reason for hope, with their resilience and ability to persevere against all odds.
This book is the story of the betrayal of trust of the liberators against them and themselves. It is dedicated to the South Sudanese people. I hope it will provide some answers to their questions. I hope it will also help pave the way for change, for a new start for South Sudan, to finally become a nation where their dreams can be fulfilled.