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 national vision.
At the centre 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 exist. Government institutions are in place, administrative systems function and legal frameworks exist.
However, what is missing is a shared foundation capable of making these structures work in a democratic, responsive and legitimate way.
This is not simply a theoretical argument. It is rooted in the country’s own experience through the Revitalised 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 genuine 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 towards a fully functioning, accountable and legitimate political system. The principles, institutional culture and governance practices needed for democracy remain weak or absent. The state has a skeleton, but it lacks the strength required to function effectively.
In this context, expectations of credible elections in December 2026 are difficult to sustain. Elections are not simply procedural exercises. 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 one another instead of reinforcing each other. The peace process and the National Dialogue became competing projects rather than complementary ones.
Each side questioned the legitimacy of the other. Some viewed the peace process as foreign driven and biased towards opposition groups, while others regarded the National Dialogue as a government led effort to consolidate power.
Attempts were made to bridge these divides. Some opposition groups joined while others withdrew. The result was not consensus, but continued fragmentation, demonstrating how fragile trust remains and how deeply 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 for competition over power and resources rather than genuine efforts to promote unity and reconciliation.
The Revitalised Peace Agreement itself reflects this problem. While leaders projected unity during the signing process, serious disagreements remained unresolved. Many sought to avoid appearing obstructive before international mediators while continuing to hold 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 implementation challenges, 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 national ownership, peace agreements risk becoming external projects rather than genuine national commitments.
The same pattern appears in the constitution making process. New bodies are established, members are appointed and workshops are held, often funded by external donors, yet meaningful 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 lived 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 merely satisfy technical standards.
Despite international support for South Sudan’s independence, the country has yet to convene a truly sovereign national constitutional conference capable of defining a 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, power sharing, government positions and security arrangements, while the wider population remains on the margins.
Yet many of the country’s conflicts are local in nature, involving 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 the daily lives of ordinary people.
A sustainable transition requires broader participation. Peace cannot come solely from agreements among leaders; it must reflect the concerns and aspirations 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 place emphasis on punishment, many African traditions focus on healing and restoring relationships.
The country will require a system that combines these approaches, 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 prioritises inclusion, equality and human dignity.
It requires using national resources, especially oil revenues, to support development, particularly in agriculture. It requires decentralising governance so communities have a stronger voice. It also requires investment in infrastructure, especially roads, to connect the country and strengthen national unity.
Above all, it requires shifting away from externally driven processes and elite political bargains towards 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 transform its formal structures into a functioning democracy capable of delivering peace, dignity and prosperity for all.
Dr Francis Deng is South Sudan’s first Permanent Representative to the United Nations. Dr Amir Idris is Professor of African History and Politics at Fordham University, New York.