There is a conversation we need to have as South Sudanese, a real one, honest and sobering.
We have seen it all. The cycle of rebellion, peace agreements, broken promises, and back again to war. It’s a pattern we’ve been trapped in for decades. But here’s the truth: armed rebellion is not, and has never been, the solution to our problems, not now, not in this century.
We have walked this road since 1991 when internal opposition began to fracture the liberation movement. It didn’t work then, and it’s even more irrelevant today. Every time a group picks up arms to demand change, we end up with more pain, more division, and more destruction. So why are we still tempted by this path?
Let’s take a look at what’s happening in other African countries to really understand the consequences.
In Nigeria, Boko Haram started as a radical movement claiming to fight corruption and injustice. But what has it brought the people of Nigeria? Schools burned, children abducted, communities living in fear, and millions displaced. Their rebellion has not led to reform—it’s only deepened suffering.
Over in Ethiopia, armed groups like the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) have tried to force political change through conflict. What’s the result? Tens of thousands dead, cities turned to rubble, and a humanitarian crisis that will take years to repair. Ordinary people pay the highest price, not the political elites.
And then there’s the Democratic Republic of Congo, where armed factions have fought for decades. Despite all the resources the DRC has, it’s one of the most underdeveloped countries on the continent. Rebellion there hasn’t solved anything, it has only prolonged the agony.
Now, come back home to South Sudan. We are an ethnically diverse nation, with deep-rooted communal identities. In such a context, any armed rebellion quickly becomes tribal, not national. And when that happens, it’s no longer about change—it’s about survival. It becomes one community against another, and the dream of national unity disappears.
Let me be clear: I’m not saying we should accept poor governance or corruption. No, far from it. But the way to fix our country is through ideas, not bullets. It is through democratic contestation, policy alternatives, civic education, and visionary leadership. That is the only way forward.
Imagine this: a young politician from Jie, one of the smallest and most marginalized tribes in South Sudan, so small that many South Sudanese barely know where they live or how they survive. The Jie people, found in parts of Eastern Equatoria, have long been on the fringes of national politics, often left out of development plans and political conversations.
Now picture a Jie politician who stands up, not with a gun, but with powerful ideas—on how to fix education, improve healthcare, manage resources, and promote peace. If that leader speaks with clarity, conviction, and vision, they stand a real chance of inspiring people from across tribal lines. In a democratic environment, ideas like those have power. That leader could become a symbol of change, not because of tribe, but because of the transformative message they bring.
This is the model of leadership South Sudan needs. The kind that moves beyond tribal allegiances and military credentials, and speaks to the hopes and needs of all our people.
Look at why the SPLA gained legitimacy during the liberation struggle. It wasn’t just because they had weapons; it was because their cause resonated with the Southern population. They were speaking for the voiceless, for the marginalized. But today’s armed rebellions are different—they’re often about power, not purpose.
South Sudan doesn’t need more warlords. We need nation builders. We need leaders who can bring people together around shared ideas, not shared enemies.
So, to my fellow South Sudanese, especially the youth: let’s stop romanticising rebellion. Change will not come through the gun; it will come through the ballot, the classroom, the newsroom, and the boardroom. The 21st century belongs to thinkers, not fighters.