By: Dr. Francis Deng and Dr. Amir Idris

Dr. Francis Deng is Sudan’s former Ambassador to the Scandinavian countries, Canada, and the United States, and State Minister for Foreign Affairs, and South Sudan’s first Permanent Representative to the UN

Dr. Amir Idris is a professor of African history and politics in the Department of History at Fordham University, New York. His latest book is Race, Ethnicity, and Violence in South Sudan (2024)

South Sudan’s transition remains unfinished, not only because of weak institutions, repeated political crises, and a lack of political will, but also because the country has yet to agree on a shared common ground. At the heart of the problem is a deeper question: what kind of state, system of governance, and form of citizenship should define South Sudan?

It is more accurate to describe South Sudan not as a failed state, but as a country with an unfinished transition. The structures of a state are there. Government institutions exist, administrative systems function, and legal frameworks are in place. However, what is missing is a shared foundation that can make these structures work in a democratic, responsive, and legitimate way.

This is not just a theoretical argument. It is grounded in the country’s own experience, through the Revitalized Peace Agreement, the National Dialogue, and the constitution-making process. Across all these efforts, one pattern is clear: a persistent gap between formal agreements and real consensus, between international support and national ownership, and between elite decision-making and the expectations of ordinary citizens.

South Sudan has not collapsed as a state. What remains incomplete is the transition toward a fully functioning, accountable, and legitimate political system. The principles, institutional culture, and governance practices needed for democracy are still weak or missing. The state has a skeleton, but it lacks the strength to function effectively.

In this context, expectations of credible elections in December 2026 are difficult to sustain. Elections are not simply about procedures. They depend on trust, accountability, inclusion, and the rule of law, all of which remain fragile.

If South Sudan’s transition is unfinished, then the question is: what is holding it back?

One major obstacle is the absence of common ground. Over the years, national initiatives have often worked against each other instead of reinforcing one another. The peace process and the National Dialogue became competing projects rather than complementary ones. Each side questioned the legitimacy of the other. Some saw the peace process as foreign-driven and biased toward opposition groups, while others viewed the National Dialogue as a government-led effort to consolidate power. Attempts were made to bridge these divides. Some opposition groups joined, others withdrew. The result was not consensus, but continued fragmentation, evidence of how fragile trust remains and how deep political and ethnic divisions continue to shape the country.

More broadly, political leaders have engaged in parallel processes without building a shared national framework. These initiatives have too often become arenas of competition over power and resources, rather than genuine efforts to build unity and reconciliation.

The Revitalized Peace Agreement itself reflects this problem. While leaders projected unity at the signing, serious disagreements remained unresolved. Many sought to avoid appearing obstructive before international mediators while maintaining fundamentally different positions on key issues such as power-sharing and resource distribution. The result was an agreement that was formally accepted but lacked deep national commitment. The ongoing challenges in implementation, and the continued emergence of new initiatives, highlight the gap between what is agreed on paper and what happens in practice.

Equally troubling is the expectation that external actors should finance basic elements of peace implementation. Requests for food, uniforms, and equipment for cantonment sites point to a deeper issue: peacebuilding is often treated as an international responsibility rather than a national obligation. Without ownership, peace agreements risk becoming external projects rather than national commitments.

The same pattern appears in the constitution-making process. New bodies are formed, members are appointed, and workshops are held, often funded by external donors, but real progress remains slow. There is also heavy reliance on foreign experts applying general models that may not reflect South Sudan’s realities. But a constitution cannot be imported. It must reflect the values, history, and experiences of the people. It requires broad participation and must speak directly to the country’s challenges. It should express a collective national will, not simply meet technical standards. Despite international support for South Sudan’s independence, the country has yet to convene a truly sovereign national constitutional conference to define its shared future. Political and military elites have not delivered the transition to democracy.

Another major weakness lies in the exclusion of ordinary citizens. Peace and constitutional processes have focused overwhelmingly on political elites, on power-sharing, positions, and security arrangements, while the broader population remains on the margins. Yet many of the country’s conflicts are local: disputes over land, cattle, resources, and representation. These conflicts persist even when national agreements are signed. As a result, elite peace deals do not always translate into peace in people’s daily lives. A sustainable transition requires broader participation. Peace cannot come only from agreements among leaders; it must reflect the needs and concerns of communities across the country.

Transitional justice presents another unresolved challenge. South Sudan must balance accountability with reconciliation as it confronts its violent past and the painful memories it continues to carry. While international approaches often emphasize punishment, many African traditions focus on healing and restoring relationships. The country will need a system that brings these approaches together, one that delivers justice while also promoting national healing. The central lesson is clear: South Sudan’s unfinished transition is, at its core, a crisis of shared vision and national ownership.

Moving forward requires more than institutions and agreements. It requires a common understanding of the values that should guide the state. It requires leadership that prioritizes inclusion, equality, and human dignity. It requires using national resources, especially oil, to support development, particularly in agriculture. It requires decentralizing governance, so communities have a greater voice. And it requires investing in infrastructure, especially roads, to connect the country and strengthen national unity.

Above all, it requires shifting from externally driven processes and elite bargains to a truly national project shaped by the people of South Sudan. Until that happens, until leaders and citizens find common ground on governance, justice, inclusion, and development, the transition will remain unfinished. Only then can South Sudan turn its formal structures into a functioning democracy capable of delivering peace, dignity, and prosperity for all.