South Sudan, the world’s youngest nation, is teetering on the edge of a familiar abyss. Since gaining independence from Sudan in 2011, it’s been a country defined by hope and heartbreak in equal measure—a place where the dream of self-determination has too often been drowned out by the sound of gunfire. After a brutal civil war from 2013 to 2018 left hundreds of thousands dead and millions displaced, a fragile peace deal brought a glimmer of stability. But today, that peace feels more like a pause than a resolution.
A Quick Look Back
When Sudan gained independence in 1956, southerners feared domination by the north—and they were right to worry. The government in Khartoum pushed policies of Arabization and Islamization, alienating the south and sparking the first sudanese Civil War (1955-1972). That conflict, which killed hundreds of thousands, ended with the Addis Ababa Agreement, promising the south autonomy. But peace was a mirage. In 1983, Khartoum reneged on the deal, imposing Sharia law nationwide and igniting the Second Sudanese Civil War (1983-2005). This war was apocalyptic—two million dead, four million displaced—fought between the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), led by the visionary John Garang, and the northern regime. Garang dreamed of a unified, democratic Sudan, but his death in a 2005 helicopter crash, just months after the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) was signed, left the south to chart its own course. The CPA paved the way for a 2011 referendum, where 98.8% of southerners voted for secession. On July 9, 2011, South Sudan emerged, a nation born of blood and hope.
Ethnic Rivalries and the Oil Curse
Yet independence, instead of erasing the scars of history—it exposed them. South Sudan’s diversity—over 60 ethnic groups, with the Dinka (36% of the population) and Nuer (16%) as the largest—could have been its strength. Instead, it became a fault line. The SPLA morphed into the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), the ruling party, but it was less a unified government than a coalition of rival factions. By December 2013, South Sudan was at war with itself. President Salva Kiir, from the Dinka ethnic group, accused his deputy, Riek Machar, a Nuer, of planning a coup. What started as a political spat exploded into an ethnic conflict, with militias loyal to both sides tearing the country apart.
This wasn’t just a political spat; it was a war fueled by ethnic animosities and the spoils of oil. South Sudan sits on sub-Saharan Africa’s third-largest oil reserves, with fields in Unity and Upper Nile states generating 90% of government revenue. But oil has been a double-edged sword. It funded the war machine—both sides fought bitterly to control the fields—while corruption siphoned off billions. The 2018 Revitalized Agreement on the Resolution of the Conflict in South Sudan (R-ARCSS) halted the fighting, birthing a unity government in 2020 with Kiir as president and Machar as first vice president. It sounded good on paper—unify the army, write a constitution, hold a vote. But in practice? It’s been a slog. Deadlines keep slipping, trust is in short supply, and violence never really went away. That history sets the stage for today’s uncertainty.
The unity government was meant to heal South Sudan, but it’s struggling to survive its own dysfunction. The R-ARCSS called for unifying the armed forces—loyal to Kiir, Machar, or local warlords—into a single national army of 83,000. By late 2023, only about 50,000 had graduated from training, and mistrust keeps the rest divided. A permanent constitution, meant to underpin the vote, remains unwritten, bogged down by disputes over power-sharing and state boundaries. Violence never really stopped. In 2023, clashes in Upper Nile killed 150, displacing 20,000, while cattle raids in Warrap state left dozens dead. These aren’t isolated incidents—they’re symptoms of a deeper malaise. Armed groups, some tied to Machar’s SPLM-IO, others freelance militias, exploit the government’s weakness.
Could It Happen Again?
The latest flare-up in tensions erupted in March 2025, when South Sudanese authorities arrested Lieutenant General Gabriel Doup Lam, a prominent military figure loyal to Machar. This arrest was followed by the deployment of government troops around Machar’s residence in the capital, Juba, a move widely interpreted as a direct provocation. These actions have heightened fears that the peace deal could unravel, especially as the country prepares for its first post-independence elections, scheduled for December 2024. The timing is significant: with the vote looming, both Kiir and Machar appear to be consolidating power and positioning themselves to dominate the political landscape, despite their mandated cooperation under the R-ARCSS. The arrest of Lam, a key Machar ally, and the military presence near his home signal a breakdown in the already tenuous trust between the two camps, raising the specter of renewed violence.
The stakes could not be higher for South Sudan as the nation teeters on the brink of renewed full-scale civil war, a collapse that would compound an already dire humanitarian crisis marked by millions of displaced people and widespread hunger exacerbated by years of conflict and economic mismanagement. A breakdown in the fragile peace process not only threatens to deepen these hardships but also risks undermining the fledgling institutions critical for transitioning to a stable, democratic state. On February 21, 2025, the initiative was suspended until March 2025 at the request of the South Sudanese government, citing the need for consultations. This pause came amid growing tensions and stalled progress in the peace process, raising concerns about the stability of South Sudan’s fragile peace.
The pause was soon followed by escalating violence, culminating on March 7, 2025, when a South Sudanese general and several soldiers were killed during an attack on a United Nations helicopter in Nasir, a town mired in clashes between government forces and the White Army, a militia linked to opposition leader Riek Machar. The United Nations condemned the attack as “utterly abhorrent” and a possible war crime, underscoring the deteriorating security situation. In response, on March 12, 2025, the UPDF deployed troops to support President Salva Kiir’s government, aiming to stabilize the region and prevent further collapse of the peace agreement, although the circumstances and parliamentary authorization for this move remain unclear.
Conclusion
For now, the burden rests on Kiir and Machar to prioritize national unity over personal ambition. The 2018 peace deal, though imperfect, remains the best framework for avoiding another war. Its success hinges on their willingness to compromise, implement overdue reforms, and rebuild trust—a tall order given their history. The international community can apply pressure and offer support, but ultimately, the fate of South Sudan lies in the hands of its leaders.
Photo Credits: Reuters
Bravin Onditi is a Research Assistant at the HORN Institute.
The views expressed in this article are those of the authors and they do not necessarily reflect the position of the HORN Institute.
