Mogga Loyo
Africa-Press – South-Sudan. South Sudan stands at a delicate and uncertain crossroads. Since the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) in 2005, South Sudanese citizens have waited patiently, painfully, and anxiously for a moment when democratic elections would finally define their direction as a sovereign nation. Nearly two decades later, that expectation remains suspended in limbo. The central question persists with increasing urgency and frustration: Is South Sudan genuinely prepared for elections? From government compounds in Juba to markets in Wau, from diaspora communities abroad to internally displaced persons scattered across camps and protection sites, the same inquiry echoes across all social spaces: why has South Sudan’s election remained a question rather than a reality?
The signing of the CPA was a historic moment that sparked a wave of optimism. For many, it symbolized a sweeping promise of peace, stability, and eventual prosperity. When the nation proceeded to independence in 2011, that dream intensified. Sovereignty itself became a symbol of healing and a testament to resilience. Yet the years that followed independence dismantled that assumption. The euphoria of liberation dissolved into harsh realities offractured leadership, a fragile governing system, power struggles at the highest levels, and repeated outbreaks of violence. The belief that peace would automatically flourish after independence proved tragically misleading. The assumption that statehood alone could guarantee unity and stability overlooked a fundamental truth: South Sudan became a state before it had the institutions, reconciled identities, or political consensus to function as a nation.
The burden of unfinished statehood remains visible today. Institutions essential to conducting credible elections in South Sudan—such as an independent judiciary, a professional electoral commission, a national civil registry, a unified national army, and a neutral security apparatus—are either weak, contested, or still under development. These institutional gaps expose a painful reality: the foundations necessary for a democratic electoral process are not yet fully established. The task of building a legitimate state was still in its infancy when expectations for national elections were already being placed on the country’s shoulders. As a result, South Sudan’s electoral journey has been repeatedly delayed, not solely due to political reluctance, but because the machinery required to conduct free and fair elections is incomplete.
Political fragmentation has made matters worse. The political history of South Sudan since independence can be described as a series of ruptures. The unity of the liberation struggle, once celebrated as a symbol of collective purpose, fractured almost immediately after independence. Rivalries that had remained quiet during the war erupted into open conflict. The country’s political landscape became a mosaic of factions, splinter parties, and armed movements, each claiming authority, representation, or historical entitlement.
The conflict that began in December 2013 fundamentally changed the national trajectory. Allegiances collapsed, ethnic divisions deepened, and the chain reaction of violence triggered massive displacement, mistrust, and political polarization. Renewed violence in 2016 deepened these divisions, shattering the illusion that peace agreements alone could reset national unity. What emerged instead is a climate where elections—without prior reconciliation and reform—could become another flashpoint for instability. Under such circumstances, elections risk becoming a tool for political exclusion and a catalyst for renewed violence instead of a mechanism for national renewal.
An institutional deficit continues to paralyze electoral progress. A permanent constitution has not been finalized, leaving governance arrangements ambiguous and contested. The national census required to establish voter constituencies and population distribution remains outdated, complicating voter registration, resource allocation, and representation. The electoral commission lacks full operational independence and the infrastructure necessary to manage a nationwide vote. Fundamental democratic freedoms such as access to information, media independence, civic education, and open political participation remain restricted in several spheres, deepening public fear and discouraging political engagement.
This electoral uncertainty is further exacerbatedby widespread displacement. Millions of South Sudanese citizens live in refugee settlements across Uganda, Kenya, Ethiopia, Sudan, and beyond. Hundreds of thousands are internally displaced, sheltered in camps and protection sites, uncertain of their safety or future. An election held in the current context would exclude a significant portion of the population, undermining the principle of universal participation. The question of how refugees, IDPs, and diaspora communities will vote remains unresolved. Any election that proceeds without guaranteeing their participation risks producing a government whose legitimacy is questioned from the moment it assumes power.
The psychological environment in which elections would occur raises further concern. Elections cannot take place in a climate of fear. Yet fear defines the daily lives of many South Sudanese. Roads remain unsafe in several regions, political expression is often met with intimidation, and critics of the state machinery frequently encounter threats, detention, or harassment. Media houses and civil society actors operate within narrow boundaries, aware that misinterpretation or criticism could provoke retaliation. In such a climate, the prospect of elections fulfilling their democratic purpose becomes doubtful.
The delay of elections is not merely a technical inconvenience; it reflects deeper existential conflicts. South Sudan continues to struggle with questions of national identity, political legitimacy, and social belonging. What does nationhood mean in a land of more than sixty-four ethnic communities, each with its own culture, memory, and political grievances? Who decides the future of a country where trauma, the legacy of war, and historical wounds have shaped institutions as much as policy? Can a nation built on ethnic plurality produce unity without suppressing identity? These questions remain unanswered, yet they form the foundation on which any legitimate election must stand.
Elections must therefore be seen not as a shortcut to peace, but as a destination reached after preparing the road. To set South Sudan back on its feet, serious investment is required in reconciliation, institution building, constitutional clarity, national dialogue, and the restoration of civic space. Trust between citizens and the state must be rebuilt, not through rhetoric or symbolic agreements, but through consistent demonstration of accountability, transparency, and inclusivity. The militarization of politics must be dismantled. Governance must shift from a winner-takes-all approach to a culture of consensual leadership rooted in shared responsibility.
South Sudan is not condemned to perpetual instability. Its people are resilient, courageous, and profoundly invested in peace. Across villages, towns, refugee settlements, and diaspora communities, South Sudanese express the same yearning fora country that works, a government that listens, and a future that is not defined by fear. Elections, when grounded in reform, preparation, and sincerity, could mark the beginning of that transformation. But if forced prematurely, without addressing the root causes of conflict or the gaps in state capacity, they could reopen wounds that have barely begun to heal.
South Sudan deserves elections that are not an experiment, but a milestone; not a gamble, but a promise honored. Anything less risks pushing the country back into the cycle of crisis it has struggled to escape. The stakes are too high, and the people have suffered too deeply, to accept an election that prioritizes timelines over truth, or political symbolism over national stability. To proceed without reform is to risk the future; to prepare with sincerity is to protect it.
Source: Radio Tamazuj
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