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Arrow boys, armed groups and the SPLA: Intensifying insecurity in the Western Equatorian states

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  • Busara Center
February 2017
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SAFERWORLD
PREVENTING VIOLENT CONFLICT. BUILDING SAFER LIVES
SAFERWORLD
PREVENTING VIOLENT CONFLICT. BUILDING SAFER LIVES
SAFERWORLD
PREVENTING VIOLENT CONFLICT. BUILDING SAFER LIVES
SAFERWORLD
PREVENTING VIOLENT CONFLICT. BUILDING SAFER LIVES
Informal armies
Community defence groups in South Sudan’s
civil war
Informal armies
Community defence groups in South Sudan’s
civil war
SAFERWORLD
FEBRUARY 2017
About the authors
Jok Madut Jok is currently the executive director of the Sudd Institute, a public policy
research centre based in South Sudan. He was educated in Sudan, Egypt and the
United States and holds a PhD in the anthropology of health from the University of
California, Los Angeles. He is also a professor of anthropology at the University of
Juba in South Sudan. He is a widely recognised specialist on conict and political
violence. Following the independence of South Sudan in 2011, Jok served for two years
in the newly formed Government of South Sudan as undersecretary in the Ministry of
Culture and Heritage. Jok has worked extensively in the aid and development sectors
and is the author of four books and numerous articles covering gender, sexuality and
reproductive health, humanitarian aid, ethnography of political violence, gender-
based violence, war and slavery, and the politics of identity in South Sudan and Sudan.
Over the years, Jok has held several fellowship positions, including at the United States
Institute of Peace, the Ri Valley Institute, and the Woodrow Wilson International
Center for Scholars. His books include Breaking Sudan: e Search for Peace (2017),
Sudan: Race, Religion and Violence (2007) and War and Slavery in Sudan (2001).
Jok is also co-editor of e Sudan Handbook (2010) and is currently working on a
manuscript on the impact of insecurity on social cohesion.
Mareike Schomerus has researched in South Sudan since 2004. Charles Taban has
been working as a researcher for the past ten years.
Luka Biong Deng Kuol is a global fellow at Peace Research Institute Oslo, associate
professor at College of Social and Economic Studies, University of Juba, South Sudan,
and a fellow at Ri Valley Institute. He was a resident senior fellow at Carr Centre for
Human Rights Policy at Harvard Kennedy School and visiting fellow at Institute of
Development Studies at the University of Sussex, UK. He served as a director of the
Centre for Peace and Development Studies, University of Juba, a minister in the Oce
of the President of Southern Sudan and a National Minister of Cabinet Aairs of
Sudan until he resigned in May 2011 aer the Government of Sudan invaded Abyei,
his home area. He also worked as a senior economist for the World Bank and a member
of teaching sta of the Faculty of Economics and Rural Development at Gezira
University, Sudan. He received his PhD from the Institute of Development Studies,
University of Sussex, UK and earned a master of arts in economics and a master of
business administration from the Catholic University of Leuven, Belgium and a BSc
from the Faculty of Economics and Social Studies at University of Khartoum, Sudan.
He has published scholarly articles in a wide array of international journals and
contributed with many chapters in various books. He is a recognised expert on the
aairs of Sudan and South Sudan.
Ingrid Marie Breidlid has several years of research and work experience from Sudan
and South Sudan. She is currently a PhD candidate at the University of Oslo. Her thesis
explores the drivers, strategies and mechanisms for mobilisation of youth in organised
violence in South Sudan during the second civil war and post-war period, with a special
focus on Nuer youth, including the White Armies. She has conducted extensive eld
research in the Greater Upper Nile region and has published and presented papers
on issues related to youth and rural violence as well as protection of civilians. She has
previously been employed with the Peace Research Institute Oslo, the Norwegian
Institute of International Aairs, UNMISS, and UNDP.
Michael J. Arensen has extensive work and research experience from Sudan and South
Sudan. Since 2004 he has managed and coordinated humanitarian and peacebuilding
programmes for various INGOs. In the past ve years he has carried out eld research
for various organisations, including the Ri Valley Institute, Oxfam, Norwegian
Refugee Council, and International Organisation for Migration. He has published
papers and presented on youth and inter-ethnic conicts in South Sudan, customary
authorities, the militarisation of societies, food security, and protection of civilians.
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Acknowledgements
is publication was edited by Victoria Brereton for Saferworld. e editor would like
to thank Naomi Pendle at the London School of Economics, the Overseas Development
Institute, and Saferworld sta Galdino Joseph Sakondo, Peter Machar and Jessica
Summers for research and editorial assistance.
Saferworld is grateful to the Netherlands Ministry of Foreign Aairs for nancially
supporting this publication. e contents of the publication are the sole responsibility
of the authors and do not necessarily reect the views of the Netherlands Government.
e views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not necessarily
reect the views of Saferworld.
Contents
Preface i
1. Introduction: the state, security and community defence groups in South Sudan 1
Jok Madut Jok
2. Arrow boys, armed groups and the SPLA: intensifying insecurity in the 6
Western Equatorian states
Mareike Schomerus and Charles Taban
i. Introduction 6
ii. Background: who are the arrow boys? 7
iii: New behaviour and actors 10
iv. South Sudan’s civil war structures and violent incentives of the peace agreement 16
v. Conclusion: rethinking the role of non-state armed actors 16
3. Dinka youth in civil war: between cattle, community and government 19
Luka Biong Deng Kuo
i. Introduction 19
ii. The changing role of Dinka youth during the second Sudanese civil war 20
iii. Post-CPA years: fragmentation and escalating violence 22
iv. Dinka youth and the current civil war 24
v. Conclusion: harnessing and managing the role of non-state security actors 26
4. The Nuer White Armies: comprehending South Sudan’s most infamous 27
community defence group
Ingrid Marie Breidlid and Michael J. Arensen
i. Introduction 27
ii. Origins: kinship, conflict and community defence 28
iii. Leadership, legitimacy and command and control 29
iv. History of involvement in government wars 31
v. Conduits of an ethnic war? White Armies’ motivations for participating in violence 35
vi. A more effective approach to peace and security in Greater Upper Nile 37
vii. Conclusion 39
5. Conclusion: community defence groups and the future of security in South Sudan 41
Jok Madut Jok
Abbreviations
CPA Comprehensive Peace Agreement
INGOs International non-governmental organisations
LRA Lord’s Resistance Army
REMNASA Revolutionary Movement for National Salvation
SAF Sudanese Armed Forces
SPLA-IO Sudan People’s Liberation Army-In-Opposition
SPLA/M Sudan People’s Liberation Army/Movement
SPLA/M-IO Sudan People’s Liberation Army/Movement-In-Opposition
SSDA/M South Sudan Democratic Army/Movement
SSNLM South Sudan National Liberation Movement
UNDP United Nations Development Programme
UPDF Uganda People’s Defence Forces
UNMISS United Nations Mission in South Sudan
Preface
Paul Murphy
th e following collection of reflections on aspects of community (and
state) security in South Sudan is a valuable example of the type of locally-grounded
analysis that has been missing from the last decade of statebuilding engagement.
I remember well the excitement and hopefulness that accompanied the signing of the
Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) in 2005. But even then, it was striking how
the task of addressing underlying grievances from decades of conict and securing
basic public safety and security (both fundamental building blocks for future peace)
were relegated by decision makers in the rush to establish an interim period of southern
governance. Twelve years later, the human and political cost of side-stepping these
‘fundamentals’ has exceeded our worst imaginings, especially since 2013. Unthinkable
violence and abuse has followed, immobilising critical thinking and strategic actions
to stop violence and re-set the country on a credible pathway to peace.
So in what way are these essays on community defence groups helpful when considering
South Sudans future? At the outset, they cast a nuanced understanding of some of the
dierent ways communities seek to protect their lives and assets in a context where
government institutions either don’t exist, or can no longer be depended upon. is
is not to deny the sometimes extraordinary dedication of individuals scattered across
South Sudan who oer communities degrees of safety or justice, whether as a police
ocer, judge or community leader. But in the end, many citizens have no other option
but to mobilise, making community defence groups as relevant today as they have
been in the past.
e collection sheds light on the purpose, complexity and sophistication behind a
small number of these groups: the gelweng/titweng, White Armies and arrow boys.
Tracing their historical and community roots, the essays untangle the myths and
romanticism that have oen coloured depictions of their role. Such groups have been
heavily shaped by South Sudans conicts and have frequently fallen into the manipu-
lative hands of self-seeking political leaders. ey have sometimes helped achieve
relative security, or contributed to local peace agreements. More frequently however
they have exacerbated violence, presenting harsh dilemmas for vulnerable community
members involved. At the same time, defence groups pose critical policy dilemmas
for South Sudans edgling state – incorporate, disband or transform them? To ignore
them, as the collection makes clear, is not a viable option.
e authors make no suggestion that local defence groups can ll the vacuum created
by the absence of a functioning state security system. Rather, by highlighting how
communities are actually responding to insecurity, the collection’s value lies in helping
i
ii informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
identify entry points, actors and local concerns that should inform measures to restore
peaceful coexistence and build a more responsive security system in South Sudan in
the long term. e safety of citizens and communities will need to be placed at the
centre of these endeavours.
Undoubtedly, the journey to transform the drivers and eects of violence will require
immense political courage and sustained investment at every level of the state.
But moving beyond our traditional approaches to security building – and recognising
the signicant and complex role that actors outside the state play in community lives –
must be central to that process. Let’s begin by putting the realities in front of us and be
ready to engage with South Sudans informal and emerging state security institutions.
1 In October 2015, South Sudan’s President Salva Kiir decreed that the country’s ten states would be sub-divided into 28 states,
a measure that was subsequently approved by parliament. This article refers primarily to the ten state borders that existed
prior to the announcement, for ease of reference only.
1
Introduction
The state, security and community defence groups
in South Sudan
Jok Madut Jok
south sudan was born of a history of armed struggle. During the long
second civil war against the government of Sudan (1983–2005), it was rendered one
of the most war-ravaged places on earth, as a result of damage inicted directly by the
Sudanese state and by South Sudanese themselves in the course of ghting each other
as they fought the north. What was then Southern Sudan experienced multi-level splits
within the armed movements, even as they agreed on the goals of liberation. As such,
at independence, the challenges of becoming a unied, cohesive, stable and successful
state could not be any more daunting, given the history of violent acrimony.
is history has le a serious burden on the country’s psyche and shoulders. Much of
the violence that has now come to engulf the world’s newest country is unquestionably
rooted in that history, as well as in the decits of post-independence statecra and
nation-building, or perhaps in the shortcomings or failure of those endeavours. To
manage this burden of history requires a complex and nuanced combination of eorts.
It involves siing through a growing subculture of violence produced by that protracted
liberation war, examining the changing livelihood landscapes at communal levels,
understanding the crumbling social order and coming to terms with the nations weak
security sector and rule of law. is is a potent mix that has to be carefully studied and
understood if the dreams of the population for a stable country and human security
are to become a reality.
On security issues, the sigh of relief that greeted the signing of the CPA in 2005, which
ended the two-decade north-south war, was short lived. e Sudanese Armed Forces
(SAF) retreated to the north and with them went the indiscriminate aerial attacks,
torture and repression that had characterised the relationship between civilians and
army in the southern garrison towns. Also gone was Khartoum’s recruitment of counter-
insurgency militias within the south, which had pitted ethnic groups against each
other. But it was not long before these threats were replaced by dierent sources of
Background:
South Sudan’s complex
security challenges
2 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
insecurity, some home-grown, some building on the history of SAF involvement in the
south and others coming from across the border.
Violence continued to claim just as many if not more lives as the north-south war had
done in a similar period. ere were recurrent and deadly episodes of cattle rustling
in seven out of then ten states.1 Various ghting forces sprung up, some le over from
the war days and others created at communal levels as defence measures against the
increasing levels of violence and to confront the decline of human security all across
the country. Rebellions emerged within South Sudans army – the Sudan Peoples’
Liberation Army (SPLA) – as soldiers reacted to their exclusion from the gains of
peace and others protested alleged rigging by the ruling Sudan People’s Liberation
Movement (SPLM) during the 2010 general elections in favour of party cadres who
lacked local support. Some episodes of violence took on ethnic dimensions, sowing
the seeds of discord that paved the way for the 2013 civil war.
All these dynamics wreaked incredible havoc. Communities bought into the myth that
more arms meant increased security. But the more guns that South Sudanese – civilian
and combatant alike – had in their possession, the less secure everyone became. Nowhere
did it become more evident than in South Sudan that a society where everyone is
armed on the pretext of self-defence is a society where no one can be assured of safety.
is is the climate in which the so-called White Armies in Greater Upper Nile, the
arrow boys in Equatoria and the titweng or gelweng in Bahr el Ghazal were all formed,
primarily as community defence outts but in some cases later turning violent and
unwieldy, in ways community leaders who initially supported their formation could
not have predicted, or can now rein in. ese groups have put the government in a
dilemma. To support them as extensions of its security apparatus risks outsourcing a
dangerous enterprise to entities that are not constrained by the central command and
control of the national army. To disband them or ght them as they become sources of
insecurity risks further militarising community-state relationships. eir removal also
risks creating a security vacuum that the state is currently fundamentally unable to ll.
Community protection forces have their origins in historical patterns of community
mobilisation in South Sudan and the intensication of violence from 1983, when South
Sudan started the second Sudanese civil war against the government in Khartoum.
Since then, and despite the north-south war, which united southerners against the
government in the north, much ghting occurred within South Sudan. is has
followed three interconnected tracks.
e rst is resistance against the Sudanese state’s armies by local communities that
were targeted by SAF and its allied militias. reats to communities were particularly
acute along the north-south borders during the liberation era. During this period,
especially between 1986 and 2002, the Khartoum government collaborated with or
encouraged and armed Baggara Arab militias from South Darfur and South Kordofan
known as the Muraheleen, and used them to attack Dinka and Nuer because these
communities formed the support base of the SPLA. In response, the Dinka of Northern
Bahr el Ghazal organised bands of armed youth to ght the Muraheleen. Dinka youths
were sometimes assisted by the SPLA or directly recruited and armed by it, making
them an informal extension of the SPLAs ghting strategy. is was a double-edged
sword. On the one hand, these forces provided much-needed protection against the
Muraheleen. On the other, their presence and mixing into civilian areas, including
residential villages, exposed entire villages to indiscriminate reprisal attacks by the
Sudanese army. It was dierent groups of these armed youth that eventually developed
into the so-called titweng or gelweng – ‘cattle guards’.
e second strand is the political contest for power within the various liberation
movements during the civil war, which continued into a contest for state power when
South Sudan became autonomous in 2005 and then independent in 2011. is type of
Drivers of community
mobilisation
saferworld 3
violence happens when political leaders draw their local communities into political
contests that are fundamentally individual power struggles. is dynamic was central
to the evolution of the titweng or gelweng, which morphed into an informal militia aer
the 1991 split in the SPLA, when Riek Machar and Lam Akol broke away, eventually
forming SPLA-United (led by Lam Akol) and the South Sudan Independence
Movement (led by Riek Machar). With backing from Khartoum, these splinter groups
fought against the main SPLA under John Garang. What was predominantly a personal
battle for power eventually degenerated into a Nuer-Dinka confrontation, at least in
Jonglei and along the Western Upper Nile and Bahr el Ghazal border, as leaders pulled
their civilian populations into violence.
Armed groups such as the gelweng and titweng on the Dinka side became central to
that confrontation, defending Garang’s faction of the SPLA, but with devastating
consequences for the communities where they operated. When Kerebino Kuanyin Bol,
along with several prominent SPLA commanders, joined SPLA-United and stationed
himself back in his home territory of Gogrial and Twic, oshoots of the titweng
developed into local defence forces against Kerebinos forces. is pattern consolidated
later on, when some politicians who failed to win oce through peaceful means
reached for the ethnic card and, drawing their ethnic constituencies – their political
support base – into violence, turned their individual quests for power into a matter
of survival for their entire ethnic communities. is has played very prominently into
the ongoing civil war that erupted in late 2013.
e third stream of violence is localised competition for resources that has occurred
along ethnic lines, and which oen escalates into all out ethnic warfare. e raiding
and counter-raiding between the Dinka of Warrap and the Nuer of Unity State, among
the Agar Dinka of Lakes, and in Jonglei State between Dinka, Murle and Nuer, have
been some of the most deadly in South Sudan over the past ten years. is type of
violence oen becomes protracted due to the inability of the state to contain armed
groups, disarm civilians and monopolise the legitimate use of force. e result is that
large-scale destruction and deaths have continued for years, devastating communities.
On the occasion this type of conict abates, it oen does so without a political resolution
and without investigation, compensation or justice for the victims. Ends are oen
temporary, and happen when ghters get tired of war, run out of ammunition or food,
when well-known militia leaders move away or join the SPLA, or when the onset of the
rainy season causes people to turn to cultivation. But these unsettled conicts strain
ethnic relations for long periods of time, leaving communities with a sense of injustice
and injuring dignity in a sub-culture where men feel an obligation to avenge past
incidents of aggression. And in the absence of the state, some communities are le to
fend for themselves, allowing a cycle of revenge and counter-revenge to become the
only form of justice available to rural communities where government is virtually absent.
All these strands connect to cause pervasive militarisation among South Sudan’s
population. Community militia have oen been formed for self-defence in conicts
between competing communities. ey have also been deployed against the states
armies, particularly when communities suspect formal forces are not neutral. ey
have been appropriated by politicians protesting missed positions in government. e
following chapters address each of these drivers. Common to all of the groups is their
roots in ethnic groups or region. In other words, they are responses to the localised
nature of violence and a suspicion that the state has become monopolised by some
ethnic groups while others are excluded, forcing them to rely on their own means of
defence. In this way, the community defence groups reviewed here dier from other
armed actors, including those with political identities and objectives.
e arrow boys, the subject of one of the chapters in this collection, was formed locally
when groups of Azande young men found themselves without a choice but to protect
their communities and property from the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), who from
2005 began attacking their villages, abducting children and displacing people from
4 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
their homes. e LRA, a rebel movement with its origins in northern Uganda, is
arguably one of the most vicious non-state armed actors still operating on the African
continent. When the Uganda People’s Defense Force (UPDF), with the aid of the
United States Marines, nally chased the LRA out of Uganda, it entered South Sudan’s
Western Equatoria. eir retreat in 2011 was due to a combination of eorts and
political events, including a reduction in support from the Khartoum Government,
UPDF collaboration with the United States Marines, the 2005 International Criminal
Court indictment of LRA lead Joseph Kony and South Sudans 2006 attempts to broker
a peace deal between Kampala and the group. But it was the arrow boys that managed
to reduce LRA attacks and the young men were praised widely, including by leaders
in the national government in Juba and by the SPLA command in Western Equatoria.
e justication for forming the arrow boys played out and bore fruit.
Developments since 2011 however have changed the dynamics of civilian mobilisation
in Western Equatoria. e rst was the outbreak of the new civil war, which saw the
arrow boys gradually become drawn into conict with the SPLA. Secondly, other militia
groups began to emerge led by actors with political ambitions beyond community
defence. e proliferation of security actors in Western Equatoria has complicated the
security scene there signicantly.
ere is already a long list of militias who have used their informal ghting roles as
assets they could sell to the government or opposition. e government may be
tempted to absorb them into the army in order to buy peace, as these groups have the
potential to disrupt stability if they are not accommodated, and to join the opposition
in a war that had already gained disastrous momentum. But rushing to integrate them
into the army, as had been the norm for many years since the CPA, means that the
SPLA is being kept at ransom until it puts everyone with a gun on the payroll. Given
the size of South Sudan’s army, which includes a number of generals unprecedented
in Africa, further absorptions bankrupt the country while failing to contribute to
eciency and professionalisation.
e second group is the titweng or gelweng – cattle guards in Dinka – whose involvement
in intra-SPLA ghting during the 1990s marked some of the worst south-on-south
violence during the long civil war. Some of the gelweng were absorbed into the SPLA
and others returned to civilian life. e majority however remained cattle guards on
the Warrap-Unity-Lakes tri-state border, engaging in seasonal ghting internally, with
the Nuer and with the Murahileen. In his chapter, Professor Luka Biong Deng Kuol
describes the changing role of the gelweng since the second Sudanese civil war, which
has seen erce internecine ghting in Lakes State and Bahr el Ghazal. e communities
in these locations face a perpetual dilemma of both needing locally-organised defence
forces and facing few options when the same forces threaten local security. What the
government should do about them is also uncertain. To disarm them is operationally
hard, and needs to be done evenly across communities. To allow them to continue
means ceding the states control over security.
e third group in the study is Jonglei’s White Armies. In their chapter, Ingrid Breidlid
and Michael Arensen highlight the origins of the White Armies in old patterns of Nuer
mobilisation. ey have since evolved however to become perhaps the best known and
most feared of all South Sudan’s non-state ghting forces. eir infamy derives from a
mix of mythical stories of prophecy about South Sudans independence and the history
of local confrontations among and between ethnic groups, including Nuer, Dinka and
Murle. is chapter however illustrates that the White Armies – their origins, linkages
to Nuer society, and leadership structures – are more complex than
popular narratives
suggest. ose factors underlie the White Armies’ ability to mobilise
in signicant
numbers, and are what have made Nuer forces such a desirable ally among political
leaders. e White Armies were mobilised against the Sudanese army as early as the
1970s, against the SPLA from time to time, and for local confrontations with neighboring
ethnic communities.
saferworld 5
ese local confrontations are fuelled by revenge for past incidents of killing, cattle
rustling, abduction of children and competition for dry season grazing lands. Jonglei
has long-entrenched community feuds that reach back decades, but feuds have taken a
more deadly turn following the CPA. From 2006, violent attacks between Murle youth
and Lou Nuer were frequent, in 2011 culminating in a 6000-man strong assault on the
Murle. e incident underlined the potential for South Sudan’s ethnic disputes to
escalate at any time. Besides the history mentioned above, these deadly attacks are
made recurrent by two realities that are not likely to be resolved in the near future:
namely, an absence of justice in the wake of attacks that leaves revenge the only
recourse available to South Sudanese citizens and the failure of the state to provide
protection.
e White Armies’ more recent growth can also be found in elite political rivalries
for control of state power, where the White Armies are sometimes used to augment
one’s power base and leverage position in power-sharing negotiations. When Lou
Nuer youth mobilised at the outset of the new conict, Riek Machar, the former Vice
President, and other prominent Nuer politicians responded quickly to cooperate with
the forces in Jonglei and Eastern Upper Nile. Lou Nuer youth and the Nuer political
leadership found common ground, with the former angered by the massacres in Juba
and eager to protect Nuer civilians and the latter needing to swell its forces.
e following chapters put a spotlight on these complex dynamics. In doing so, they
help outline the bases for a more informed approach to peacemaking in South Sudan –
and to tackling some of the security dilemmas at the heart of the current crisis.
2 In October 2015, South Sudan’s President Salva Kiir decreed that the country’s ten states would be sub-divided into 28 states,
a measure that was subsequently approved by parliament. This chapter refers to those new 28 state borders.
2
Arrow boys, armed
groups and the SPLA:
Intensifying insecurity in the Western Equatorian
states
Mareike Schomerus and Charles Taban
in june 2016, the road leading towards the small town of Ezo in South Sudans new
Gbudue State was impassable: large trees were strewn across it, cut down and placed
there by an armed group hiding in the vast bushland alongside the road.2 e purpose
of blocking the road was to impede the government army, the SPLA, and to make it
possible to rob civilian cars that were passing through.
e group hiding in the bush answered to a leader called Alfred Futiyo (or Futuyo).
At the same time, in Yambio, the capital of Gbudue State in Western Equatoria, a leader
of another armed group – James Kabila of the South Sudan National Liberation
Movement (SSNLM) – was moving around town with government-supplied body-
guards and an entourage that announced his new status as a military big man. He had
been elevated to this status aer leading armed violence in the region in late 2015
and early 2016. He and his group had signed a peace deal with the South Sudanese
government in April 2016. e agreement provided that Kabilas troops would be
retrained and integrated into the national army.
Both groups – Alfred Futiyo’s men in the bush and James Kabilas, now in a government
training camp – are part of an increasingly complicated security landscape in the three
Western Equatorian states. Now comprising Maridi, Gbudue and Amadi states, the
Western Equatorian region has experienced high levels of violence since mid-2015.
e years 2005 to 2016 saw brutal attacks on civilians in major towns and surrounding
areas -including Yambio, Ezo and Source Yubu – violent clashes between the SPLA
and armed groups, and ghting linked to livestock movement. Several groups have
announced new rebellions against the government. Civilians have been targeted and
are suering from hunger due to the closing of roads.
is tumultuous security scene is oen misleadingly attributed to a group of young
men who once protected their own communities and are now seen to have turned
i. Introduction
saferworld 7
3 For analysis on this process in other contexts, see Seymour L J M (2014), ‘Why Factions Switch Sides in Civil Wars: Rivalry,
Patronage and Realignment in Sudan’, International Security 3, pp 600–617.
4 South Sudan News Agency (2015), ‘Former Western Equatoria State’s minister joins rebellion, vows to topple “kiir’s tribal
regime”’, 24 November.
5 Radio Tamazuj (2015), ‘Understanding new violence in South Sudan’s Western Equatoria’, 10 October.
6 Ibid.
7 Schomerus M, Tumutegyereize K (2009), ‘After Operation Lightning Thunder: Protecting communities and building peace’
(London: Conciliation Resources); Koos C (2014), ‘Why and How Civil Defense Militias Emerge: The Case of the Arrow Boys
in South Sudan’, Studies in Conflict & Terrorism 37, pp 1039–1057.
against them: Western Equatoria’s so-called arrow boys. is depiction overlooks
the important role civilian protection groups have played in Western Equatoria, the
incentives that drive the various armed actors that have emerged since 2014 and the
broader developments in South Sudan that have contributed to increasing insecurity
in this region.
is chapter sheds light on the political and security context in Western Equatoria in
which recent developments can be better understood. Sections i and ii trace the history
of the arrow boys and their former role and links this history to emerging new actors.
Section iii situates these developments in South Sudan’s wider civil war and the 2015
peace agreement. A concluding section draws out implications for engagement with
the security situation in Western Equatoria in particular and with armed groups in
South Sudan more generally.
e chapter draws on empirical material collected in Western Equatoria since 2006
in addition to interviews conducted with residents of Maridi State in early 2016 and in
Gbudue State in June and July 2016. Some of the conclusions presented are based on
previously published research by the author.
Labelling perpetrators of violence in South Sudan is always dicult. Titles claimed by
or applied to rebel groups can suggest a level of stability in their aims and membership
that is rare in South Sudan’s shiing security landscape. Armed violence is more oen
characterised by side-switching, changing loyalties and incentives, also because actors
respond to opportunities generated by peace deals and security reforms.3 e security
scene in Western Equatoria is no less complex, and has become ever more changeable
since insecurity intensied in 2015.
Some important actor groups can nonetheless be identied. is chapter uses the
term ‘arrow boys’ to describe civilian groups that between 2005 and 2015 were the main
provider of civilian protection. ‘Armed groups’ describes movements that have emerged
as part of South Sudan’s ongoing civil war since 2013 and have made political claims or
announced their loyalty to the SPLM-in-Opposition (SPLM-IO).4 A third category –
disgruntled SPLA’ – describes particular armed groups that have their roots in
discontent within the army. ‘Unknown gunmen’ has become a prominent term for
those committing crimes without any discernible political agenda or readily identiable
alliances. Unidentied armed groups have also engaged in ghting with the government
army, the SPLA.5
ese are not clear-cut categories: there can be – and has been – overlap between them.
Members of the arrow boys have also joined the ranks of armed groups and periodically
aligned with disgruntled SPLA soldiers. But drawing distinctions is necessary to high-
light that not all groups in the region are the same and that diering incentives, security
functions and identities need to be taken into account in programme interventions
that aim to bring peace and stability to the region.6
e term ‘arrow boys’ was for years used to describe community-based protection
militias that emerged in the mid-2000s to protect civilians from attacks by the
Ugandan Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA).7 e ‘arrow boys’ – named aer their
ii. Background:
who are the
arrow boys?
The challenges of
designation
Origins in community
protection
8 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
8 Schomerus M (2008), ‘Violent Legacies: Insecurity in Sudan’s Central and Eastern Equatoria’, Working Paper 13 (Geneva:
The Small Arms Survey); Schomerus M (2007), ‘The Lord’s Resistance Army in Sudan: A History and Overview’, Working
Paper 8 (Geneva: The Small Arms Survey); Gordon S, Vandewint C, Lehmeier S, (2007), ‘Reluctant Hosts: The Impact of the
Lord’s Resistance Army on Communities in Western Equatoria State, Southern Sudan’ (Nairobi: World Vision).
9 Schomerus M, De Vries L (2014), ‘Improvising border security: “A Situation of Security Pluralism” along South Sudan’s
Borders with the Democratic Republic of Congo’, Security Dialogue 45, pp 1–16; Schomerus M, Allen T (2010), ‘Southern
Sudan at odds with itself: Dynamics of conflict and predicaments of peace’ (London: LSE/DESTIN/Pact Sudan/DfID).
10 Schomerus M (2015), Protection and militarisation in Western Equatoria, USAID/VISTAS; Schomerus M, De Vries L (2014),
‘Improvising border security: “A Situation of Security Pluralism” along South Sudan’s Borders with the Democratic Republic
of Congo’, Security Dialogue 45, pp 1–16.
11 Schomerus M (2014), ‘Policy of Government and Policy of Culture: Understanding the Rules of Law in the “Context” of
South Sudan’s Western Equatoria State’ In: Marshall D, Rosenbaum M (eds) The International Rule of Law Movement: A
Crisis of Legitimacy and the Way Forward (Cambridge: Harvard Law School Human Rights Programme/Harvard University
Press).
12 Ibid.
13 For detailed information on community attitudes towards the arrow boys, see Rigterink A S, Kenyi J J, Schomerus M (2016),
‘Report of the Justice and Security Research Programme survey in Ezo and Tambura Counties, South Sudan’ (London:
London School of Economics and Political Science); Schomerus M, Rigterink A (2016), ‘Non-State Security Providers and
Political Formation in South Sudan: The Case of Western Equatorias Arrow Boys’ (Waterloo: Center for Security Governance);
Rigterink A S, Kenyi J J, Schomerus M (2014), ‘Report of the Justice and Security Research Programme Survey in Western
Equatoria State, South Sudan’ (London: London School of Economics and Political Science).
primary weapons – mobilised in 2005 following the movement of the LRA from
Eastern Equatoria into Western Equatoria along the Congolese border, where they
attacked communities in 2005 and again from late 2008. Attacks were interrupted by
two years of peace talks from 2006 mediated by the vice president of what was then
the semi-autonomous Government of Southern Sudan, Riek Machar.8 Many residents
in Western Equatoria were critical of Machar’s engagement with the LRA. An agree-
ment to designate an area in Western Equatorias border with the Democratic Republic
of Congo (DRC) as the ocial assembly area of the LRA kept the armed group in the
area, which was threatening even during the times when the LRA did not attack. It was
clear during peaceful times that there would be no meaningful protection of civilians.
Movements by Ambororo nomads in the area added to security fears. While very few
violent incidents involving the Ambororo were ever conrmed, rumours of Ambororo
collaboration with the LRA increased citizens’ perception that eective protection was
urgently needed.9
e formation of the arrow boys was thus a response to a clearly identiable security
threat. Patrick Zamoyoa, state governor for Western Equatoria in 2005 (who returned
to the post in 2015) supported the formation of the protection militia. Such political
support for the arrow boys’ activities by the state government and later the central
government was an implicit acknowledgement that neither SPLA nor the UN forces
present in the area at the time were able to eectively protect communities from LRA
attacks.10
Among Western Equatorians, the SPLA’s failure to respond to the LRA threat conrmed
long-held perceptions of marginalisation by the Juba government. Western Equatorians
regularly express frustration about the lack of recognition for their contribution to the
SPLA war eort during the 1983 to 2005 second Sudanese civil war.11 People complain
that the region missed out on many of the benets of the 2005 Comprehensive Peace
Agreement (CPA). Another concern is that the SPLA regularly fails to act in the interests
of Western Equatorians, which residents link to low representation of their region in
the national army.12 ere are also fears among local farmers that farmland is under
threat of being taken over for cattle grazing. is has created tensions between Western
Equatorians and cattle keepers migrating into the area from further north; these
tensions have at times turned violent, most notably in 2005 and 2015.
From late 2008 until 2014, the arrow boys mainly operated in rural areas along the
border with the DRC where they patrolled and responded to attacks. With the
majority of Western Equatorians dependent on agriculture and hunting, the arrow
boys functioned superbly in the remote bush along the border with the DRC and the
Central African Republic (CAR), for them both hunting ground and farm land.
During this period, which marked the height of the arrow boys’ activity, there were
very few incidents reported in which the the arrow boys did not act in the interest of
their communities. Continued community support for the arrow boys shows that they
were seen as a legitimate actor.13 One notable exception came in June 2013, when close
saferworld 9
14 UN Security Council (2013), ‘Briefing Security Council, Senior Envoy in Central Africa Calls for Sustained International Focus
on Eliminating Lord’s Resistance Army, Other Threats’ In: 7065th meeting (ed), 20 November.
15 Schomerus M, Rigterink A S (forthcoming), ‘The fear factor is a main thing: How radio influences anxiety and political
attitudes’, Journal of Development Studies.
16 See Rigterink A S, Kenyi J J, Schomerus M (2014), ‘Report of the Justice and Security Research Programme Survey in Western
Equatoria State, South Sudan’ (London: London School of Economics and Political Science).
17 Ibid.
18 Administrate districts in South Sudan.
19 Schomerus M, Rigterink A S (2015), ‘“And then He Switched Off the Phone”: Mobile Phones, Participation and Political
Accountability in South Sudan’s Western Equatoria State’, Stability: International Journal of Security and Development 4 (10).
20 Ruati R (2010), ‘Arrow Boys in W. Western Equatoria to be armed against LRA – Governor’, Sudan Tribune, 28 September;
Willems R C (2015), Security and Hybridity after Armed Conflict: The Dynamics of Security Provision in Post-Civil War States
(Abingdon/New York: Routledge).
to 100 arrow boys from Tambura County launched a cross-border attack on armed
forces in the town of Obo in CAR. e circumstances and reasons for the attack –
during which seven arrow boys died in custody – remain unclear.14
e community’s response to the LRA threat, through the arrow boys, was widely
acknowledged to be more eective than that of any other armed forces stationed in
the area. From 2008 onwards, these other armed forces prominently included the
Ugandan army and then later also US military advisers, in addition to the SPLA and
UN troops. American and Ugandan soldiers regularly consulted the arrow boys and
periodically furnished them with equipment in exchange for information.15
Since the formation of the arrow boys, membership had been uid and not limited by
age or sex.16 Core groups were oen made up of young men, who would suspend their
livelihood activities, such as farming or hunting, to go on patrol. When security threats
were acute, however, arrow boy numbers would swell (sometimes to encompass whole
villages) and included women and older men if the situation required. Groups of arrow
boys organised locally, the most active operating along the border from Maridi to
Tombura counties. Even bigger towns like Yambio mobilised if needed, though generally
only in response to acute security threats. Groups depended on community donations
for sustenance, with a specic arrow boy tax levied in some communities.17
Embedded in the community, the arrow boys reected and drew upon local governance
structures. is also meant that they generally did not pose a political or social challenge
to local mechanisms. Leadership was exible and impermanent, oen tight for the
duration of a patrol but easing up soon aer. And while many areas nominally had
an arrow boys ‘head’, command powers varied signicantly between individuals and
heads always worked closely with local chiefs or payam administrators.18 In some
areas, the arrow boys also supported local justice systems, working with chiefs and
helping to apprehend people called to the local customary court.19 Loose connections
existed between groups.
Beyond adhering to a loose hierarchy, the arrow boys never clearly organised into
military ranks, nor did they aspire to a unied structure across all of Western Equatoria.
is is signicant in the highly militarised environment of South Sudan, where a
military title is great currency, oering status and material rewards.
e arrow boys’ failure to adopt overtly military structures reects the strength of their
community connections and the uneasy relationship groups oen maintained vis-à-
vis the central government. In the early days, the arrow boys were cautiously accepted
by the central government, with the national assembly in September 2010 promising
to provide monetary assistance (which never materialised).20 From 2010 however this
muted support shied. Initially closely associated with Governor Zamoyoa, the arrow
boys had an even more vocal advocate in his successor Joseph Bakosoro, governor
between 2010 and 2015. Bakosoro oen paid visits to the arrow boys to show his
support for their community protection work. A vocal critic of the central government,
Bakosoros relationship with the arrow boys gradually aroused the suspicion of the
Juba elite, who feared he was using the groups to build an anti-government Western
Equatorian front.
Structure, command
and relationship with
the state
10 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
21 Mohandis R (2016), ‘Recent armed groups in WES are not Arrow Boys’, Sudan Tribune, 7 January; author interviews in Maridi
and Yambio, January–March 2015.
22 Schomerus M, Rigterink A (2016), ‘Non-State Security Providers and Political Formation in South Sudan: The Case of Western
Equatorias Arrow Boys’ (Waterloo: Center for Security Governance); Rigterink A S, Kenyi J J, Schomerus M (2014), ‘Report of
the Justice and Security Research Programme Survey in Western Equatoria State, South Sudan’ (London: London School of
Economics and Political Science).
23 Schomerus M, Rigterink A (2016), ‘Non-State Security Providers and Political Formation in South Sudan: The Case of Western
Equatorias Arrow Boys’ (Waterloo: Center for Security Governance).
24 De Vries L (2015), ‘“The government belongs to other people.” Old cycles of violence in a new political order in Mundri?’,
USAID/VISTAS; Okoth S (2015), ‘Livestock diseases and movement as conflict trigger in Greater Equatoria’, Case studies
series: Conflict and cooperation in the Equatorias (Juba: VISTAS/USAID).
25 Interview with Maridi resident 8, 24 January 2016.
26 Sudan Tribune (2015), ‘Juba accuses Sudan of supporting new insurgency in Western Equatoria’, 26 May.
Allegations of such a broad-based rebellion were never very compelling. During their
most active years, few arrow boys seemed to view themselves as part of the governor’s
private militia. Many stressed that while Bakosoro was supportive in his speeches,
meaningful material assistance was never forthcoming. On the contrary, in many
regions – particularly in areas northwest of Yambio and in the Maridi area – members
of the arrow boys stressed that their existence was proof the governor had failed to
provide for the community’s protection. However, even when they were expressing
disappointment at not having received recognition for their protection work, the
arrow boys did issue demands. ese tended to be social rather than political, for
example requesting government funding to send orphaned children to school.21
For ordinary Western Equatorians, support for the arrow boys did not appear to
entail rejection of other authorities, including central government. Quantitative and
qualitative empirical data collected in 2013 indicates that popular loyalties locally
did not divide sharply between state and non-state authorities: those who supported
the arrow boys did not necessarily oppose the SPLA, just as those who supported
traditional authorities did not always oppose central government.22 e issue that
divided people more clearly instead appears to be mode of governance – support for
military or security forms of governance on the one hand and civil forms of governance
on the other. Specically, some interviewees conveyed a clear conviction that force –
whether delivered by the arrow boys or the SPLA – was a legitimate way to govern.23
is conviction is likely to have shaped individuals’ decision to join other armed
groups as the civil war progressed.
A conuence of factors during 2014 saw the arrow boys become gradually absorbed
into South Sudan’s unfolding civil war. Dinka pastoralists from neighbouring Lakes
State had for generations moved their cattle southwards into Western Equatoria’s more
fertile grazing lands during the annual dry season. From early 2014, however, serious
ghting in Jonglei and Lakes states – in addition to the emergence of new cattle
diseases – drove cattle into Maridi and Mundri counties in even greater numbers.24
Cattle movements contributed to rising tensions between cattle-keeping nomadic
communities and resident communities in the two counties, as cattle keepers disrupted
agricultural production and access to water sources. e SPLA was again not seen as
a protective force – on the contrary, interviewees highlighted that they had witnessed
the SPLA directly aiding the cattle movement, citing political and ethnic loyalties
between some soldiers and cattle keepers. e SPLAs failure to halt clashes between
cattle keepers and residents continued to feed the sense among communities that the
army was acting against them. Community accusations included the suggestion that
the SPLA even provided guns to the cattle keepers.25
e growing tensions underlined a longer-term deterioration in the arrow boys’
relationship with the SPLA and the central government. roughout 2014, the narrative
that Western Equatorians were getting ready to ‘rebel’ against the government –
possibly in direct alliance with the SPLM-IO under Dr Riek Machar – continued
to gain traction and had in various cases been the explanation for SPLA action.26
iii. New
behaviour and
actors
Rising tensions in
Maridi and Mundri
counties
saferworld 11
27 De Vries L, Schomerus M (2015), ‘Talking about war makes it more likely. Look at South Sudan’, Monkey Cage Blog/
The Washington Post.
28 Author interview community leaders, Yambio, July 2016.
29 Interview with Maridi resident 1, 21 January 2016; Interview with Maridi resident 3, 21 January 2016.
30 Nashion J (2015), ‘SPLA Accused Of Causing Havoc In Maridi County’ Gurtong, 1 July; Sudan Tribune (2015), ‘Western
Equatoria state condemns South Sudan army crackdown’, 2 July.
31 Nyamilepedia (2015), ‘South Sudan: Arrow boys declare vicotry over the army in Ezo, Western Equatoria’, 21 November.
Reports linked the rebellion to the sitting governor, Bakosoro, and to the arrow boys,
rumoured to be providing the necessary military strength. As a result, 38 arrow boys
from Maridi were arrested by National Security and accused of participating in a
rebellion. One was killed.
e SPLA accusation that the arrow boys were part of a edgling rebellion was used to
justify violent crackdowns by the army against civilians. If there was a rebellion to be
quashed and if this rebellion was seen to come from within the community, violence
against communities was justied.27 Allegations circulated that the SPLA were harassing
and attacking civilians in the Yambio and the Maridi areas. Community leaders
describe the SPLA as becoming increasingly aggressive, particularly so in July and
August 2015: “e army would shoot people. is area was frontline and no one was
passing. e army was burning houses.28
What had been a source of Western Equatorian pride – successful community-based
defence through the arrow boys – had become a security issue that could not be talked
about for fear of government repercussions. Interviewees stated that they were not
afraid of the arrow boys, but of government soldiers.29
e clashes that erupted in Western Equatoria, including in Maridi, in early 2015
marked the beginning of a dierent phase. In early 2015, the arrow boys in Maridi
County seemed to have reached a decision – due to increasing tensions between resident
communities and cattle keepers as well as tension between resident communities and
the SPLA – that their community protection role should be expanded to include the
protection of community crops and preventing violence between residents and cattle
keepers. In mid-2015, as violence against civilians from both SPLA and cattle keepers
increased, the arrow boys acted, clashing with cattle keepers and SPLA soldiers
deployed particularly in Maridi and Mundri counties and who had failed to enforce
orders to press cattle keepers to return to their home states.30
Events in 2015 spurred changes in the behaviour of the arrow boys and triggered the
emergence of new armed actors in the Western Equatorian states. e involvement
of the SPLA in actions against the community triggered violent responses from the
arrow boys. Meanwhile, the signing of a peace agreement in August 2015 between the
national government and opposition forces in Addis Ababa appears to have triggered
the emergence of new armed actors, some linked to arrow boy groups/mobilisation
structures and others entirely separate. However it is important to note that armed
actors now present in the Western Equatorian region are not simply the same as the
community protection arrow boys.
In late 2015, violence continued in the western part of the Western Equatorian region,
including in and around Ezo and Tombura counties. Violence was largely attributed
to the arrow boys – that is, to members of the community – collaborating to ght the
SPLA. In ghts between the SPLA and arrow boys in Ezo, it was reported that 18 SPLA
soldiers were killed.31 A group of arrow boys attacked Yambio town in September 2015,
causing heavy ghting with the SPLA over several days. A few triggers appear to have
caused this rise in violence: accusations of rebellion in the Western Equatorian region,
the emergence of disgruntled SPLA being referred to as arrow boys, unfullled
promises and an increasingly dicult economic situation, the dismissal of the elected
governor, and possibly the lure of gaining access to the benets of the peace deal.
The arrow boys’
changing role in
violence
12 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
32 Author interview Ezo resident, Yambio, July 2016.
33 Author interview, community leader, Juba, June 2016.
34 Author interview Ezo resident, on phone, June 2016.
35 See also International Crisis Group (2016), South Sudan’s South: Conflict in the Equatorias (Brussels: ICG); Small Amrs Survey
(2016), Conflict in Western Equatoria (Geneva: Human Security Baseline Assessment for Sudan and South Sudan/Small Arms
Survey), July.
36 https://www.remnasa.com/home.html
37 REMNASA (2015), ‘REMNASA: Why Revolutionary Movement for National Salvation was formed’, 2 February.
38 Sudan Tribune (2015), ‘S. Sudanese army comes under another attack in Western Equatoria’, 25 May; Schomerus M (2015),
‘Protection and militarisation in Western Equatoria’, USAID/VISTAS.
39 Mohandis R (2016), ‘Recent armed groups in WES are not Arrow Boys’, Sudan Tribune, 7 January.
40 Author interview, local government official, Yambio, July 2016.
41 International Crisis Group (2016), South Sudan’s South: Conflict in the Equatorias (Brussels: ICG).
However, it appears that aer these events, the arrow boys as a community loosened.
While most stopped ghting and returned home, a few did not. e once tight relation-
ship between communities and members of the arrow boys who continued to ght
also appears to have begun to strain from this period.
Tensions between the arrow boys and the SPLA in Ezo were calmed with the help of
the church, who brokered a local peace deal. “But some of the boys went back to the
bush [to continue ghting],” explained a resident. “e community was very confused
and disappointed. ey cannot understand why the boys turned against them.32
While local leaders agree that some of the community arrow boys were involved in
ghting now, they were adamant that “it’s the same boys but they are not attacking
civilians, only ever SPLA. e SPLA has been aggressive.33
By late 2015 – and continuing into 2016 – communities appeared to be caught between
a rock and a hard place: “e community was in trouble because in the bush there was
the problem of arrow boys and in the town the problem of SPLA.34
ese tensions increased with the signing of a peace agreement between SPLM
and SPLM-IO in August 2015. In the months leading up to the signing, the security
landscape in Equatoria had been shiing.35
One of the rst groups to emerge in Western Equatoria (without any obvious links to
the arrow boys) was the Revolutionary Movement for National Salvation (REMNASA).
REMNASA announced its presence through a press release in early 2015. e group
appeared to be supported by the diaspora, had an internet presence,36 and circulated
press releases that highlighted a range of long-term anti-government grievances.37
However, reports of its activities were dicult to verify, particularly reports of attacks
on the SPLA, and its numbers appear to have been tiny.38 Aer just a few months, the
group – if it did ever exist as a group – joined the SPLM-IO.
Two other rebellions announced their presence around the time of the August peace
agreement. Both operate near or in the main city of Yambio, which in late 2015
experienced prolonged ghting and reports of forced recruitment.39 While the sources
of ghting are oen referred to as the ‘arrow boys’ in press reports, interviews or
government statements, a local government ocial argued that the nature of how the
groups behaved – primarily that they were no longer a community protection force
and instead aggressive ghters –marked a signicant shi away from the arrow boys:
“ese groups should not really be called arrow boys.40
Alfred Futiyos group – responsible for felling the trees on the road to Ezo in June 2016 –
emerged as a prominent armed actor in Western Equatoria in 2015. Declaring his
allegiance to SPLA-IO and Riek Machar in May 2015, for a while it seemed that with
Futiyo’s loyalty declared, the emergence of IO in Western Equatoria was conrmed,
which created further ghting between the SPLA and the armed group.41 Futiyo
himself, speaking through a translator, explained that one reason for the escalation
between his forces and the SPLA was his alliance with IO: “When Riek said we are with
Other armed groups
emerge
Armed groups:
Alfred Futiyo
saferworld 13
42 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, July 2016.
43 Author interview, leader 1, Yambio, July 2016.
44 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, June 2016.
45 Author interview, leader 2, Yambio, July 2016.
46 Author interview, leader 2, Yambio, July 2016.
47 Author interview, community leader, Juba, June 2016.
48 Author interview, leader 2, Yambio, June 2016.
49 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, July 2016.
50 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, July 2016.
51 Author interview, residents, Yambio, June 2016.
52 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, July 2016.
him, our state government got very angry. And that is when the government started
ghting us.42
e exact origins of Futiyo’s group and its links with IO are unclear: the IO has never
conrmed this close connection. Futiyo had been a trader in Yambio market since 1988
aer eeing to the town when his land was reportedly taken by Dinka cattle keepers.
He was in Yambio when residents clashed with cattle keepers in 2005. A local leader
reported that between 2005 and 2015, Futiyo had made a living selling teak illegally
and that when the shi in state leadership in mid-2015 closed o this source of income,
he had started an armed rebellion.43 e story contradicts Futiyo’s claim that he joined
the IO rebellion on 15 May 2014.44 Locals highlighted in interviews that they themselves
were confused by Futiyo’s alliances.45 Local leaders also doubt the extent to which
Futiyo’s group is connected to IO.46 “Machar never came. ere is no real connection,
was how another leader summed up the link.47 Among local ocials, there is no
knowledge of supplies having been brought to the group.48
While it is the case that IO ocers have sought information on Futiyo’s group through
various channels, Futiyo’s group was in interviews asking to be connected to the IO,
which casts a doubt on his connection to the IO.49 At other times Futiyo’s group
claimed to be in touch with IO and had been told by IO representatives that no military
supplies could be sent to them since the IO had already signed a peace deal in Addis
Ababa.50
Futiyo’s group is ercely distrustful of the state government, having also accused other
actors seeking to make connections to start peace talks of being government agents.
At the same time, local residents report that there was more to the tension between
Futiyo’s group and the state governor: it was described as a personal fall-out.51
When asked why a group of Western Equatorians now wanted to align themselves
with Machar – who had been despised during the LRA talks – Futiyo’s group argued:
“We are not angry with [Machar] now. It is true that he was not helping us or giving the
arrow boys support. e reason we are trusting Machar now is because we are in the bush
and he is talking about the peace and the rights of the people… ere are other Equatorians
who are saying that when the government comes with the money, they will take the money.
e reason why we are still with Riek Machar is about the rights of the people. ere are
other politicians in Equatoria, when the government gives them money they will do their
work. at is the reason why we stand with Dr Riek Machar… e reason why we don’t
want to talk with the state government is because they plan to bring cattle keepers to our
areas. at is the reason why we don’t want to talk with him [the state governor]. If the
other governor would be sent in we would talk with him, not with Zamoyo. e reason
why we don’t want to talk with Zamoyo is in 2005, he was the person who said let us not
ght with those of Dinkas. In 2005 he came as a governor, and now we consider him an
agent of cattle keepers.52
Inclusion in a disarmament, demobilisation and reintegration process mandated by
the August 2015 peace agreement appears to have been a particularly important
incentive in the case of Futiyo’s men. In July 2016, Futiyo’s spokesperson spelt out the
groups demobilisation demands, including cantonment sites (usually referred to
colloquially as ‘containment’ sites) for IO ghters: “What we want now that we have
14 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
53 Author interview, spokesperson/translator of Alfred Futiyo, on phone, July 2016.
54 Author interview, Yambio, July 2016.
55 Author interview, December 2016.
56 One SSNLM leader explained that “there are reasons why we were fighting and then we already gave the reasons, like one
our people were being killed by the government forces, we had been in the army, I was an offer in the government and I
have stayed in the rank more than 16 years, so we need promotions and we also need training and the government forces
also to be trained in order not to kill the population.” Author interview SSNLM leadership, Yambio, July 2016.
57 Author interview, Maridi resident, Juba, July 2016.
58 Author interview, Maridi resident, Juba, July 2016.
joined with Riek Machar, we want our containment [sic] area…We expect in contain-
ment [sic] area, what we want is one [lieutenant] general Alfred Futyo, and two major
generals, and eight brigadier generals and 36 brigadiers and other ocers. at is why
we want in our containment [sic] area and then we will sit quiet. at is our agreement
with Dr Riek Machar and then we will sit in the containment area and it will be good
for our lives and our nation.
Other ways that national politics were inuencing violent actions in the Western
Equatorian region were expressed through Futiyo’s dismissal of the newly created 28
states of South Sudan: “We want federalism in our containment [sic] area… Federalism.
We want to be an Equatoria region, Upper Nile region or Bahr el Ghazal region. We
have 62 tribes in South Sudan. So we are from Zande. We want to be in our own area.
We are Equatorians. We want to have power like those of the government. at is what
we mean by federal system. We don’t want 28 states. We want three regions. e reason
why we don’t want 28 states is because it can divide other people. We want ten states
according to the agreement.53
e extent of Futiyo’s access to weapons and supplies remains unclear. A foreign engineer
who was abducted by the group in June 2016 and kept by them in the bush for ve days
recounted that he estimated their camp held about 150 people, including women and
children. Many, he said, spoke English and all men had guns and ammunition.
In addition, all men were dressed in uniform. “ese were military men”, was how he
judged the group.54 It is unclear, however, whether the equipment points towards close
military connections – either to SPLA or SPLA-IO – or whether what was on display
came from other sources. A reported raid by Futiyos men on a number of wildlife force
stores in the Yambio area is also alleged to have provided the group with a new inux
of weapons and supplies. More recently in December 2016, however, it seems that
Futiyo’s group has been rearmed; the source of these arms is unclear.55
e SSNLM appear to have been formed in mid-2015 by Western Equatorian soldiers
frustrated by the SPLAs treatment of local residents and by the region’s continued
marginalisation by the central government. In July 2016, the SSNLM leadership with
James Kabila – now comfortably situated in Yambio town with their forces in a nearby
government training camp – highlighted a range of grievances linked to regional
neglect. ese include the central governments failure to acknowledge Equatoria’s
contributions to the second civil war, the under-representation of Equatorians in the
national government, army, judiciary, and the lack of promotion opportunities for
serving Equatorian soldiers. SPLA harassment of local civilians and the removal and
arrest of the popular elected governor was also cited by the SSNLM leadership.56 While
the grievances echo long-held sentiments of many Western Equatorians, the timing
and pursuit of an integration deal with the SPLA suggest an opportunistic use of these.
Kabila had le the SPLA in mid-2015 and ed to the bush, taking others with him.
Residents from Maridi pointed out that some individuals within the newly-formed
SSNLM had been members of the arrow boys, but that this did not mean that the
SSNLM was composed of arrow boys.57 is group was described by a resident as:
“e arrow boys was just like a brand name, within them were police, civilians, army
personnel, but they were all under one umbrella. All leaders of the arrow boys rebellion
came from SPLA.58
Disgruntled SPLA:
the SSNLM
saferworld 15
59 UN Mission in South Sudan (2015), ‘Government signs peace agreement with armed group in Western Equatoria’,
16 November.
60 “We are not arrow boys, we are SSNLM. Our bodyguards do not have arrows. We are not arrow boys. Arrow boys were
formed to fight the LRA so some of them joined us. So when they joined us there is no need to call them arrow boys.
There were people who are from the army and people who are not from the army. Like those people whose people were
killed most of them were annoyed so they joined. I cannot tell the exact number of arrow boys.” Author interview SSNLM
leadership, Yambio, July 2016.
61 “One things which annoys is that we signed the agreement, there are still people in the government who call us rebels. That
is why we went to the bush because they called us rebels. There are still people in the government calling us rebels. When
they call you rebel it is somebody who is doing bad things. This is how people understand, but we are not doing bad things.”
Author interview SSNLM leadership, Yambio, July 2016.
62 Author interview, Maridi resident, Yambio, July 2016.
63 Author interview, leader 2, Yambio, July 2016.
Church leaders facilitated a peace agreement between SSNLM and the government in
April 2016.59 Having signed the deal, the SSNLM was quick to distance itself from the
arrow boys.60
e SSNLM is indicative of another South Sudanese security phenomenon: the dismissal
of ‘rebellion’ as a means to marginalise groups. e leadership of the SSNLM was
adamant that it was the description of them as ‘rebels’ – meaning of people who are
excluded from the power and resources of the government – that drove them to
actually rebel. e labelling as rebels continues to create feelings of grievance even
aer the signing of a peace deal.61
Another Maridi resident saw the motivation for the SSNLM rebellion elsewhere –
particularly the SSNLM’s insistence to be moved into a training camp in Yambio.
“I know these guys from Maridi. ey were in the army and mistreating people, raping.
ey will not go back to Maridi because the community will target them.62
Asked to explain the confusing proliferation of armed actors in Western Equatoria
since 2014, a local leader linked events to the broader situation in South Sudan:
“People make use of political instability to incite people here.63 e trajectory of actors
in the Western Equatorian region – the retreat of the arrow boys (at least as originally
constituted) and the emergence of new armed groups – highlights the encroaching
inuence of national political dynamics. It also shows the shi away from community
protection mechanisms. In the Western Equatorian states, tensions between the central
and state government, and between agriculturalists and pastoralists, resulted in an
SPLA-led campaign against the arrow boys that made their existence untenable.
It also made popular support for the arrow boys outright dangerous. is means that
current armed violence in the area is not community-driven as a way to rebel against
the government.
Neither SSNLM nor Futiyo’s groups seem to be broadly supported by the community.
is is likely because not everyone ghting in those groups used to be an arrow boy,
although some are clearly identied by their community members. e attacks on
displaced people and religious sisters in 2015 have further cost the armed groups
credibility. Individual reports of violence against civilians contrasts with the behaviour
of the arrow boys since 2005, as do reports of forced recruitment into these armed
rebellions.
ere are persistent claims by community members that the ‘armed rebellions’ are
not former or current ‘arrow boys’, but rather town dwellers who have enough access
to information and connections to Juba to understand that being part of the broad
SPLM-IO aliates could be benecial if the national peace deal is implemented.
Known members of the arrow boys interviewed in 2016 oen refer to the armed
groups as ‘town people’. Some also highlight that looting and attacks on civilians –
which have increased since 2015 – are carried out by those who joined the rebellion
in search of nancial rewards.
South Sudans dire economic situation – which has entailed sharp rises in food prices
and a shortage of basic food stus in local markets – may well have fed this dynamic,
increasing the movement of Western Equatorians from rural areas to towns in search
The muddled picture of
armed violence
16 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
64 Various author interviews.
65 Author interview, Naandi resident, Yambio, July 2016.
66 Author interview, community leaders, Yambio, July 2016.
67 Author interview, leader 1, Yambio, July 2016.
of livelihood opportunities, spurring criminal activity and increasing the attractiveness
of armed rebellion. Unknown gunmen, who are at times called arrow boys or rebels
by those reporting on their actions, might primarily be made up of those who had
formerly sought livelihoods in towns, oen as motorcycle taxi drivers. Since joining
an armed rebellion did likely not result in quick gains, criminal violence was the most
obvious choice.64
Even though there are marked dierences between the original arrow boys and the
various armed groups described above, it is worth highlighting their similarities.
For all armed actors in the region, there has been, as one resident described “very high
frustration over many years with the lack of acknowledgement [for the community
protection work done by the arrow boys].65 is lack of acknowledgement refers
to the arrow boys’ claim that they were promised money in 2009 which was never
received, the SSNLM’s expressed frustration with lack of promotion in the SPLA and
Alfred Futiyos groups insistence of being a part of IO and asking for demobilisation
programmes. One of the central factors driving the uptick in armed activity in Western
Equatoria since 2015 appears to have been awareness among armed protagonists about
the signicant opportunity oered by the peace agreement for rebalancing a longer-
term lack of access to security positions and nances.
ese developments highlight a central dilemma of the recent peace agreements and
wider history of demobilisation in South Sudan: the deal and the demobilisation and
reintegration process it outlines for non-state actors have generated new incentives
among armed actors in Western Equatoria to organise, position themselves for security
rewards, and address the region’s exclusion from the post-2005 political dispensation
in Juba. Reecting this, in Western Equatoria the agreement heralded the start of a
new period of armed activity, as actors struggled to create a platform for entry into the
post-conict security apparatus in the context of worsening economic crisis.66
ere are signs that the recent upsurge in armed activity in Western Equatoria – and
particularly the changing image of the arrow boys – may also be used by the central
government to justify new popular disarmament campaigns, which have typically
involved high levels of violence against civilians. Government ocials from Yambio
argued that allowing the arrow boys to operate freely for many years was a mistake,
enabling them to acquire arms that ultimately “fell to the wrong people.67 With the
arrow boys predominantly dependent on bows and arrows and older guns (oen loaded
with hand-made bullets), the narrative is likely a convenient line used to legitimise the
reassertion of government control in the region in the wake of the August 2015 deal.
e arrow boys and armed groups that have dominated Western Equatorias recent
security scene appear to vary signicantly in terms of their legitimacy, accountability
and interests, despite some spheres of overlap. Before 2014, the arrow boys were closely
tied to their communities, providing protection and deferring to community leaders
and structures. e arrow boys’ legitimacy stemmed from their composition and
success: membership was highly inclusive, expanding quickly to include all members
of a community able to patrol the bush when danger was announced. Meanwhile,
their eectiveness in repelling LRA attacks gave them authority in the eyes of local
communities. e arrow boys’ accountability to community decision makers also
v. Conclusion:
Rethinking the
role of non-
state armed
actors
iv. South
Sudan’s civil
war structures
and violent
incentives of
the peace
agreement
saferworld 17
68 Lacher W (2012), South Sudan: International State-Building and its Limits (Berlin: SWP).
seems to have regulated their behaviour, resulting in very few abuses of power and
helping to sustain popular support.
e close attachment of the arrow boys to local communities sets them apart from
many of the armed actors that have announced their presence in Western Equatoria
since 2015. e SSNLM argues that its legitimacy lies in its objection to SPLA behaviour
and resistance to SPLA structures. e extent to which this makes them legitimate in
the eyes of the community, however, is questionable. Anecdotally, residents interviewed
in Yambio in mid-2016 suggest that the SSNLM were quick to agree to be reintegrated
into the SPLA once they had been promised higher ranks. Alfred Futiyo’s group locates
its legitimacy in having aligned itself with a larger and more powerful actor in South
Sudans civil war – the SPLA-IO. is has little appeal among a community who has
suered rising levels of violence in the months since the groups formation in 2015.
e unclear – or at best ad hoc – connection to the IO also highlights that command-
and-control structures within the IO are dicult to ascertain if loyalties are declared
without obvious central support.
e varied origins and interests of main actors in Western Equatoria’s recent security
scene – the arrow boys, disgruntled SPLA soldiers and those ghting for a share of the
peace agreement – pose three substantially dierent dilemmas for consolidating peace
and strengthening security at the state level:
1. e arrow boys’ formation and regional importance as a security actor highlight the
serious protection gap that has existed in Western Equatoria since 2005, a gap that the
state was unable to ll. is gap has widened since 2014, as state violence has stepped
up and the arrow boys have found their activities curtailed. e community protection
militia now no longer exists.
2.
Violence by disgruntled SPLA soldiers highlight that force is seen as an eective – if not
the only – available path for securing promotions.
3. ose seeking to leverage access to power and resources highlight political grievances,
including perceptions of exclusion from the benets of recent peace agreements.
Escalating violence since 2015 is partly grounded in eorts to address Western
Equatorias long-term marginalisation, and underscore the heavy toll that seeking
entry by force can involve for communities. Impacts have been magnied by the
SPLA response, which has entailed violent crackdowns on suspected rebels and their
supporters. is has further decreased already low levels of trust between the SPLA
and communities, which likely makes it harder for community-led security actors
such as the arrow boys to operate in the post-war period.
Developments in the Western Equatorian region highlight a number of themes with
relevance across South Sudan. State-led attempts to respond to localised unrest –
through repression or disarmament – have regularly worked to exacerbate mistrust at
a community level, and have entailed little to no attention to the political grievances
underpinning armed rebellion. International security engagement in South Sudan since
2005 has been similarly apolitical in nature, focusing overwhelmingly on technical
support to the security services with little attention to sub-national conict dynamics
and tensions.68
Events in Western Equatoria since 2014 also highlight the perverse eects of South
Sudans 2015 peace deal between SPLA and SPLA-IO, which has increased incentives
at a local level to ght for access to power and resources and to do so through violence.
e period in the run up to the agreement’s signature and aerwards saw a urry of new
alliances between local groups and national armed actors – both real and imagined –
as actors sought to position themselves to benet from the deal’s terms. e process
highlighted the sizable gap that exists between the deal’s objectives at the national level
and its eects locally.
18 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
69 Interview with Maridi resident 4, 22 January 2016.
e implications of the above processes for safety and security in Western Equatoria
are wide-ranging. First, the arrow boys as originally constituted – a community
protection force with uid membership – do not currently exist: protection against
the SPLA is dicult, by virtue of the SPLAs substantially greater numbers and re
power, and claiming linkages to the arrow boys exposes people to arrest, harassment
and other forms of retaliation. is also means that communities have lost their only
eective protection mechanisms – the defunct arrow boys – while gaining more
security threats from armed groups and an aggressive government army.
e feeling of exposure to armed groups and the SPLA is itself destabilising, fuelling
fears of violence that can inform decisions to join armed groups. Protection needs
have thus increased at the same time that community mechanisms for meeting them
have become defunct. Communities are unlikely to trust government forces to protect
them, with SPLA forces widely seen as abusive and ethnically partisan.69
A crucial shi is required to address three interlinked challenges.
1. It is necessary to revisit assumptions that underpin security sector reforms that suggest
that strengthening the state will constructively strengthen local security.
2. To make communities safer will require community engagement in meeting security
needs.
3. It will be crucial to engage politically to deal with the long-term problems of marginal-
isation and neglect that underlie Western Equatoria’s current security crisis.
70 In October 2015, South Sudan’s President Salva Kiir decreed that the country’s ten states would be sub-divided into 28 states,
a measure that was subsequently approved by parliament. This article refers primarily to the ten state borders that existed
prior to the announcement, for ease of reference only.
71 See for example Sudan Tribune (2014), ‘Cycle of Lakes State Violence Continues, 15 Dead in Cueibet’, March 21; Sudan
Tribune (2014), ‘Chief’s death sparks rapes, looting in remote Lakes state villages’, 10 August; Sudan Tribune (2015),
‘27 killed, dozens wounded in Lakes state raid’, 13 July.
72 Saferworld (2015), ‘South Sudan’s galweng: filling a security gap or perpetuating conflict?’, 29 April.
3
Dinka youth in civil war:
Between cattle, community and government
Luka Biong Deng Kuo
gelweng and titweng have played a major, if less visible, role in South Sudans
present civil war. Since December 2013, groups of Dinka youth have fought alongside
SPLA soldiers in oensive attacks and in defence of the Bahr el Ghazal region against
SPLA-IO in former Unity State.70 To the south, the gelweng have been embroiled in
violent clashes with farmers in the Equatorias, fuelling a climate of tension from which
new armed groups have emerged. At the same time, gelweng and titweng have continued
to engage in Dinka-Dinka violence, in the form of lethal inter-clan raiding and revenge
killings in Lakes State during 2014 and 2015.71
e titweng and gelweng have also been a source of recruits for new SPLA congurations
whose struggles lie at heart of the ongoing national crisis. Over the last ve years,
commanders from Bahr el Ghazal enlisted many gelweng and titweng into their more
formal, government forces. Individual commanders were able to consolidate power
in the SPLA during the ongoing civil war because of the expanding force under their
direct command. is remaking of the SPLA has intensied internal ethnic divisions
within its ranks: already poorly unied, these waves of recruitment have produced an
army of soldiers who are primarily loyal to individual commanders.
Gelweng and titweng can both be translated as ‘cattle guard’. ey are community-based
groups of armed actors whose guardianship of communities’ cattle herds is a central
part of their identity. Young adult Dinka men have long had responsibility for caring
for and protecting their cattle. Formed in collaboration with the SPLA during the
second Sudanese civil war (1983–2005) in the late 1980s and 1990s, they were used by the
community as a local defence force against Arab militias and Nuer raids. Commanders
in the SPLA also used them as an informal paramilitary force, carrying weapons and
equipment and proving a large, mobile reserve of ghters.72 rough their absorption
into the war, these groups of Dinka youth acquired weapons and became a conduit for
the transformation of the war into a larger Dinka-Nuer confrontation.
i. Introduction
20 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
73 Deng F (1998), ‘The Cow and the Thing called “What”: Dinka Cultural Perspectives on Wealth and Poverty’, Journal of
International Affairs 52 (1).
74 Salih (1994); also Deng and Pendle. Pendle N (2015), ‘“They Are Now Community Police”: Negotiating the Boundaries
and Nature of the Government in South Sudan through the Identity of Militarise Cattle-Keepers’, International Journal on
Minority and Group Rights 22, pp 410–434.
75 Deng F, ‘The Cow and the Thing called “What”: Dinka Cultural Perspectives on Wealth and Poverty’.
76 Deng F (ed) (1972), The Dinka of Sudan (Austin: Holt, Rinehart and Winston) p 73.
77 Lienhardt G (ed) (1967), Divinity and Experiences: The Religion of the Dinka (Oxford: Clarendon Press).
78 Pendle, p 4.
e gelweng and titweng continued to operate to the west of the Nile in the wake of the
2005 CPA, which provided no clear, uncontested options for their future. Local demand
for their protective services also remained high, as western Dinka communities
continued to experience lethal, costly raids on their cattle. But new proximity to the
military also spelt signicant changes, reducing the inuence of chiefs and elders over
their behaviour and eroding community norms that had limited their participation
and conduct in violence. Military interest in the titweng and gelweng has also under-
pinned a struggle for control over the forces between the community and government,
and contributed to a gradual blurring of the line between home and more remote
‘political’ wars. is process has continued since December 2013, as many former
titweng and gelweng have been drawn into the SPLA and others have fought alongside
the army and their Bahr el Ghazal leadership.
Animal husbandry, particularly cattle, is the primary feature of the economy among the
Dinka. Like in other pastoralist communities, Dinka youth play a pivotal role moving
and protecting cattle, guided by a number of normative principles that govern their
conduct as an adult – principles of cieng (morals), adheng (the behaviour expected of
an adult man and a gentleman) and dheeng (dignity).73 Until the SPLA’s arrival in rural
communities of South Sudan in the mid-1980s, governance among the Dinka sat apart
from state government structures, and relied instead on traditional institutions to
maintain law and order and protect cattle and property. Political life was organised by
age-sets – discrete, traditionally leaderless groups united by generation and a common
identity – to which all Dinka belong.74 Age-sets worked as the basis for military
mobilisation and a rite of passage for all able-bodied men that marked his transition
into adulthood.75
e military functions of Dinka youth have oen overshadowed other social responsi-
bilities. Before the late 1980s, however, discipline and recourse to violence was regulated
by a number of factors. e cattle camps operated as important learning institutions
in which youth learned the Dinka way of life, and the ideals of cieng and dheeng. Aer
initiation, youth were subject to training under the guidance of elders and oriented on
the use of violence as a last resort to protect their community and cattle; ‘legitimate
violence was supposed to be defensive, and only in this case should youths be assured
of ancestral support and the blessing of God.76 Dinka typically resorted to violence
when cattle were raided or they were denied access to grazing lands and water points,
but retaliation would ordinarily be guided by a dened structure of beliefs, ideas and
values.77 Generational age-sets also competed for dominance. Among the western
Dinka, Pendle describes this competition gradually becoming predominantly theatrical
and symbolic.78
e second Sudanese civil war brought signicant changes in Dinka society. Attacks
by Khartoum-backed northern militia in the late 1980s terrorised Dinka communities
in the Greater Bahr el Ghazal region. e Government of Sudan used youth from the
western Dinka and western Nuer alongside Arab pastoralist groups as proxy forces in
their campaign against southern rebels, intensifying violence against civilians. Dinka
lost large portions of their livestock. In the context of increasing violence, the titweng
the protectors of cattle – were organised with the support of some commanders in the
ii. The changing
role of Dinka
youth during
the second
Sudanese civil
war
saferworld 21
79 Pendle, supra note 2.
80 Pendle, supra note 2.
81 Jok J and Hutchinson S (1999), ‘Sudan’s Prolonged Second Civil War and the Militarization of Nuer and Dinka Ehnic
Identities’, African Studies Review 42 (2).
82 Jok, supra note 4.
83 As such, the titweng and gelweng as institutions are the same but with geographies and security challenges. In particular,
gelweng was established in 1992 by Daniel Awet, the SPLA Zonal Commander of Bahr el Ghazal by then, with clear objective
of protecting the Dinka communities adjacent to western Nuer against the Nuer White Army and other Nuer militias; see
Pendle, supra note 2, and Nyaba P (2001), ‘The Disarmament of Gel-Weng of Bahr el Ghazal and the Consolidation of the
Nuer-Dinka Peace Agreement 1999’, New Sudan Council of Churches and Pax Christi.
84 Skiner S (2012), ‘Civilian Disarmament in South Sudan: A legacy of struggle’, Saferworld Report.
85 Pendle, supra note 2; Safterworld (2015), ‘South Sudan’s galweng: filling a security gap, or perpetuating conflict?’
(www.saferworld.org.uk/news-and-views/case-study/58-south-sudanas-galweng-filling-a-security-gap-or-perpetuating-
conflict), 29 April.
SPLA among youth who had a traditional role defending the community and cattle.
SPLA commanders beneted from the additional support of these armed youth, but
the need for the titweng also highlighted the inability of the SPLA to protect the people
and cattle of Bahr el Ghazal.
Compared with the SPLA, the titweng wielded greater legitimacy among local
communities because of their respect for local norms, relationship with chiefs and
elders, and their emphasis on protecting cattle.79 ey became a signicant source of
local pride, and in turn attracted new young recruits. New names emerged – Tit Baai
(protectors of the home) as their role extended to the protection of community and
Machar Anyar (black bualo) in recognition of their bravery.
e formation of the titweng also disrupted traditional patterns of Dinka mobilisation
and initiation. eir emergence was a clear departure from the age-set system, organ-
ising men into military units that cut across generational divides. Initiation processes,
in which elders played a role instilling values of cieng, adheng and dheeng weakened,
as youths instead looked to the SPLA for training and orders. e SPLA also provided
some titweng with guns, which were in turn sometimes bought by family members.80
Elders would oen sell cattle to generate money to purchase weapons.
e split in SPLA in 1991 brought new dynamics to the role of titweng and contributed
to militarising divisions between Nuer and Dinka.81 e SPLA splinter group headed by
Dr Riek Machar rallied western Nuer youth (see chapter 4, ‘e Nuer White Armies’)
in the mid-1990s to defend against and raid Dinka villages to the west, strongholds of
the main SPLA led by Dr John Garang.82 Increased attacks by western Nuer on western
Dinka communities in current Lakes State encouraged the SPLA to adopt a similar
strategy of community mobilisation. e titweng were mustered among western Dinka
at the border with Sudan, and the gelweng organised further south to defend western
Dinka against raids from western Nuer.83
Many youth responsibilities remained the same despite their absorption in large
numbers into the gelweng/titweng. Yet the youths’ new weapons – and the brute power
it gave them in the community – and the division that emerged between youths
allegiance to traditional authorities and the SPLA also challenged traditional relation-
ships between youths and elders. is appears to have disrupted the sway of cieng,
adheng and dheng among young men and their mediating inuence on violence and
its resolution. In some areas, traditional conict resolution processes – whereby
perpetrators of violence would pay compensation, or ‘blood money’, to the families
of victims of killings, among other measures – were gradually eroded by the sheer scale
and indiscriminate nature of killing made possible by automatic weapons.84 Eects
were not universal: the titwengs proximity to the SPLA did not always undermine
their relationships with local chiefs, where chiefs also worked closely with the SPLA.85
In some areas, chiefs were able to remake local norms to keep relatively tight control
over gun use at least among the local community (even if not in inter-ethnic raids).
e SPLA itself was also divided over the titweng and gelweng. Local communities of
western Dinka and their elites in the SPLA, including Salva Kiir (then deputy leader
of SPLA), supported their role in defence in the Bahr el Ghazal region. Dr John Garang
(then leader of SPLA and eastern Dinka), however, was more sceptical, as their activities
22 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
86 Johnson D (ed) (2003), The Root Causes of Sudan’s Civil Wars (Bloomington: Indiana University Press).
were not under his direct control and SPLA supervision.86 e diering positions of
Kiir and Garang on the titweng and their role is likely to have contributed to the political
ri that emerged between them over the SPLA leadership in 2004. e division that
emerged between Salva Kiir’s government and the so-called Garangists – which included
some of the 11 SPLA heavyweights accused of plotting to overthrow the government
and detained in late 2013 – has its roots in this period of friction within the SPLA
leadership.
e church-mediated Wunlit peace agreement brokered between western Nuer and
western Dinka (known as the Wunlit Dinka-Nuer Covenant) on 8 March 1999
contributed both to easing ethnic tensions in the war-torn South and to the reunication
of SPLA in 2002, following the return of Dr Riek Machar to the SPLA/M fold.
Unlike peace agreements before or since, the process of disarming local militias such
as Nuer White Armies and the Dinka gelweng was discussed and agreed in the Wunlit
Covenant, with chiefs and local authorities playing the lead role formulating those
provisions.
Unlike Wunlit, the 2005 CPA focused on power-sharing arrangements among elites
and excluded the large range of non-state security actors that existed across the South.
e only reference to southern armed groups outside the SPLA was through the
umbrella term ‘other armed groups’, which were to be either incorporated into formal
forces or disarmed and reintegrated into civilian institutions. Discussion on ‘other
armed groups’ focused on armed militias used by the Government of Sudan to wage
war in southern Sudan, such as the South Sudan Defence Force and even the Nuer
White Armies. Little attention was given to pro-SPLA armed groups such as gelweng/
titweng. is might partly be because these forces were not seen to pose an immediate
threat to the SPLA government, due to their historic role supporting the SPLA and
pro-SPLA communities.
Excluded from the CPA and overlooked in subsequent security sector reform initiatives
the gelweng/titweng continued to play a major role in the post-conict period from
2005. e Southern Sudanese Government maintained an ambiguous relationship
with the groups, veering between repression and intermittent cooperation. In most
parts of South Sudan and particularly in the former regions of Bahr el Ghazal and
Upper Nile, serious gaps in government security provision meant that popular
incentives to relinquish small arms remained very low and that pressure continued
to be placed on young men to defend their families and communities.
While the CPA’s security provisions had included a requirement that internal security
in the South be taken up by a newly created Southern Sudanese police force, policing
capacity in practice remained desperately low. Internationally-led police reform
programmes struggled to train and support a force that consistently fell to the bottom
of the security pecking order for the new central government. National government
budgetary allocations to the force remained meagre and unreliable throughout this
period, and far below resources channelled to the national army. e police service
was widely acknowledged to operate as a welfare system for absorbing older or illiterate
former soldiers unable to perform in the SPLA. Large numbers of ocers on the
payroll are thought to have been inactive: in 2014, a senior police ocial with the South
Sudan peacekeeping mission estimated that of the 3,000 plus South Sudanese police
ocers on the payroll in Lakes State, a maximum of 500 were involved in active policing
work and the bulk of those engaged as personal bodyguards for senior politicians.
e weakness of South Sudan’s security institutions created a context in which violence
between sections of the gelweng escalated unchecked. Extreme poverty, few livelihood
iii. Post-CPA
years:
fragmentation
and escalating
violence
saferworld 23
87 O’Brian, A (2009), ‘Shots in the Dark: The 2008 South Sudan Civilian Disarmament Campaign’, (Geneva: Small Arms Survey);
also Saferworld Community Security Assessment: Rumbek, 2014.
88 On disarmament in Lakes until 2008, see O’Brian A (2009), ‘Shots in the Dark: The 2008 South Sudan Civilian Disarmament
Campaign’ (Geneva: Small Arms Survey).
89 Sommers M, Schwartz S (2011), ‘Dowry and Division: Youth and State Building in South Sudan’. Special Report 295, United
States Institute of Peace.
90 Saferworld interviews, Rumbek, August 2014.
opportunities and a ready supply of small arms meant that as the second civil war
wound down, the gelweng in Lakes State turned their guns on each other.87 Violence
was fuelled by a demand for cattle wealth, required as dowry to marry, and by a tit-for-
tat pattern of revenge killing that neither the security services nor the nascent justice
system were able to contain.
From 2005, rival Dinka sections armed with AK-47s and sometimes heavy machine guns
and rocket-propelled grenades, clashed regularly in dierent parts of Lakes State and
with armed youths in neighbouring Warrap. In December 2011, county commissioners
reported that at least 249 people had been killed and 319 injured in cattle raiding since
the start of the year. Violence between Dinka sections escalated again in August 2014,
aer the killing of Paramount Chief Apareer Chut Dhuol – brother of the governor –
in Rumbek East reignited a 12 year-old conict between the iyic and Gony sections.
Eighteen cases of rape were reported in retaliatory attacks that followed the killing,
according to a senior UNMISS ocial.
Disarmament campaigns carried out by the SPLA in 2000, 2006, 2008, 2010 and in
2014 recovered a few thousand weapons, which were oen quickly replaced through
the easy trade in small arms with neighbouring communities across the state border.88
Operations have done little to quell the violence in the long term, with heavy-handed
tactics used by SPLA soldiers as part of the ‘forceful’ phase of disarmament campaigns
(generally preceded by a brief period for voluntary disarmament) spurring an increase
in violence and deepening local hostility to security forces. Interviews with senior
government security ocials in mid-2014 indicated that at the time the government
and the military believed cattle camp youth heavily out-armed SPLA troops stationed
in and around Rumbek.
Violence has been fuelled in part by the involvement of state and national politicians,
and by government policies that have run counter to disarmament. Gelweng in Lakes
protect not only their communities’ cattle but also the cattle of county commissioners
and other government and army elites, who oen use relatives in cattle camps to guard
their herds. Rising bride prices in the post-2005 period has increased the susceptibility
of young men to elite patronage, where cattle protection and military loyalty are
exchanged for gis from elites of guns and ammunition.89 Traditional bride-wealth
practices – and inationary pressures on dowries – have operated as a critical conict
driver in Lakes. In turn they are a potentially important focus for conict management.
Disarmament targeting the gelweng has drawn criticism for its violence, its limited
returns, and because of the intrusion of political interests on the conduct of campaigns,
with elite-sponsored herds reportedly overlooked as others were targeted. Other state
government measures have also undermined disarmament impacts. Following the
outbreak of the current civil war, a disarmament process underway in Lakes State
was suspended and, sometime around February 2014, a stockpile of weapons in SPLA
stores was released to the general population.90 Periodic initiatives to co-opt parts of
the gelweng as so-called ‘community police’ – initiatives that have oen entailed little by
way of training or salaries – has also reinvigorated the gelweng, increased incentives for
joining, and elevated young men with no experience of civilian policing into a poorly-
dened and unstable force. In February 2015, the national government announced that
upward of 10,000 irregular troops would again be recruited from Warrap and Lakes
states. Initiatives suggest that the national and state governments continue to see the
young men as a exible, irregular reserve force for reinforcing state security capability,
even as those forces continue to inict violence on local communities.
24 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
91 African Union Commission of Inquiry on South Sudan (2014), ‘Final Report of the African Union Commission of Inquiry on
South Sudan’, Addis Ababa, 15 October, p 22, paragraphs 53–54.
92 African Union Commission of Inquiry on South Sudan (2014), pp 22–23, paragraph 54.
93 Radio Tamazuj (2015) ‘Formation of the ‘Mathiang Anyoor’ in South Sudan’ and ‘Generals say Juba massacres done by
private militia, not SPLA’, 9 March.
94 African Union Commission of Inquiry on South Sudan (2014), p 22, paragraph 53.
95 African Union (2015), ‘Final Report of the African Union Commission of Inquiry on South Sudan: Executive Summary’,
Addis Ababa.
Despite their central role in violence in Lakes State, it is clear that the gelweng continue
to garner some legitimacy and support among local communities. Interviews in
Rumbek and Rumbek East from 2014–15 indicate that young boys widely aspire to
become gelweng when they grow up. During heavy violence in central Lakes during
mid-2014, communities in Rumbek town also reported population movements from
town to the cattle camps, as people sought the protection of the gelweng.
Disarmament campaigns in Lakes and elsewhere contrasted from 2012 with moves
by the SPLA leadership to use the titweng from the north of South Sudan for military
operations. e process saw part of the titweng transform into a personalised force
and later become absorbed into the SPLA.
In April 2012, the titweng were reportedly organised into a quasi-formal force known as
the Mathiang Anyoor (brown caterpillar in Dinka) to reinforce government oensives
in the contested oil-rich border area of Panthou (Heglig).91 Interviews with the military
elite carried out by the African Union Commission of Inquiry formed to investigate
abuses committed during the conict in South Sudan from December 2013 indicate
that the Mathiang Anyoor were never formally incorporated into the armed forces.92
e group appears to have existed outside the SPLA hierarchy, and no budget was ever
acquired for their activities.93 Senior military ocials estimate the group to be between
7,500 and 15,000 people strong.94
Another force known as Dotku Beny (‘rescue the chief’ in Dinka) was formed in mid-
2013 from titweng and Mathiang Anyoor. Moved to a location near Juba immediately
before the crisis, the Dotku Beny along with the Presidential Guard are reported to
have carried an initial recce of Nuer households on 9 December 2013 before carrying
out atrocities against Nuer civilians from 15 December 2013.95 Because of their ethnic
composition and their association with the president, the SPLA High Command
resisted recognising the forces as part of the formal national army. e replacement
of SPLA Chief of Sta General James Hoth in April 2014 with Paul Malong however
triggered a shi in their status, with recruits ordered to report to SPLA bases during
early 2014. e formation of Mathiang Anyoor from the titweng – and their incorporation
into the SPLA – marked a shi in the status of these non-state security actors from
their traditional role protecting cattle and communities to one focused on the protection
of elites in the national government, particularly elites hailing from their homelands in
Bahr el Ghazal.
Mirroring events in the early 1990s, the gelweng and titweng in 2014 again found
themselves guarding grazing lands against an opposition led by Riek Machar.
ey acted as a community-based line of defence to protect government-held areas.
In 2014 and 2015, however, the SPLA-IO did not launch large-scale oensives to raid
cattle from Warrap or Lakes states. us, while the western Dinka-Nuer grazing lands
became a de fatco frontline between the SPLA-IO and Juba government, there was
little active ghting.
e gelweng have fought along SPLA units, though oen only for short periods and
where participation in attacks oered opportunities to fulll other, more local aims.
Gelweng/titweng and
defence against the
SPLA-IO
iv. Dinka youth
and the current
civil war
saferworld 25
96 See USAID (2013), ‘Recent reported incidents of violence in South Sudan’ (https://www.usaid.gov/sites/default/files/
documents/1866/02.25.14%20-%20Recent%20Reported%20Incidents%20of%20Violence%20in%20South%20Sudan.
pdf).
97 See Sudan Tribune (2014), ‘SPLA attempted to recapture Unity state county, rebels claim’, 7 February.
In December 2013, a number of gelweng seized the opportunity oered by the national
crisis to attack from Rumbek North County in Lakes State to grab contested lands in
Madhol to the north.96 In 2014, gelwemg from parts of Lakes and Warrap states also
launched an attack through Madhol into Panyijar in southern Unity State, towards the
centre of the national conict.97 As yet, however, these individual incidents have not
become a constant feature of the national crisis.
Since 2014, gelweng have also worked as a conduit for the intensication of ghting in
the Equatorias. During the driest months of the year, from January until May, Dinka
cattle herders cannot nd adequate pastures for their cattle in much of Lakes State.
For their cattle to survive, they face a choice of migrating their cattle to pasture either
to the northeast (near the Nuerlands) or to the southwest (near Western Equatoria).
By late 2014, ghting between the government and SPLA-IO caused the borders with
the Nuerlands to become a frontline in the national conict, and highly militarised.
e conict meant that many gelweng herded their cattle to southwest, to Maridi and
Mundria counties in Western Equatoria. As usual, the gelweng were armed, and the
inux of cattle aggravated tensions with local populations.
In January 2015, signicant ghting erupted between gelweng and local communities
in Western Equatoria and northern Central Equatoria. An April 2015 presidential
decree ordered the gelweng to leave with their cattle, which the gelweng refused to heed,
prompting community retaliation including by the arrow boys. SPLA-IO leaders used
this tension around cattle movements to mobilise local support.
Clashes between cattle-herders and farmers in the Equatorias during the current civil
war reect longer-term political tensions, dating back to the movement of the Dinka’s
cattle to the Equatorias in the 1990s. Aer the 1991 ‘Bor massacre’, Dinka Bor found
safety for their cattle by moving them to the Equatorias, where they forcibly demanded
grazing for their cattle and ignored previous systems to peacefully negotiate grazing
rights. Dinka from Bahr el Ghazal have also sought grazing land for their cattle in the
Equatorias, due to its relative safety. In 2014, many gelweng herded cattle to grazing
areas they knew from the 1990s.
Equatorian resistance to Dinka cattle herders does not reect an intrinsic hostility
between pastoralists and farmers. Rather, Equatorians’ frustration appears to be with
herders’ militarised approach to negotiating access and associations with the brute
force of the SPLA. In 2016, it appeared that cattle movements and the close relationship
between the gelweng and the SPLA had again sparked violence. Tensions point to the
value of further research on historic relationships between Dinka herders and
communities in the Equatorias, including to help identify fruitful opportunities for
dialogue.
Gelweng/titweng
and fighting in the
Equatorias
26 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
98 Pendle, supra note 2, p 434.
e gelweng and titweng have received little attention in analysis of South Sudan’s
conicts and among international observers. is appears to reect a number of
factors, including their relative invisibility during past civil wars and in the CPAs
provisions, their ambiguous relationship with the state in the post-CPA period, and
the limitations of an international security sector reform eld that has tended to
overlook the wide range of non-state and hybrid actors that exist outside the formal
security services. Embroiled in local cattle raiding from 2005, conict perpetrated by
these actors has oen been consigned to the less political category of ‘inter-communal’
violence. e current civil war, however, has highlighted the ability of commanders to
use these forces to violently cement power at the heart of government.
At the local level, people have experienced the titweng and gelweng as both sources of
protection and instability. Gelweng or titweng have undoubtedly asserted themselves
as ‘legitimate’ security providers among some communities and reinforced central
government through the Mathiang Anyoor or Doku Beny.98 eir shiing relationship
with government also has implications for local governance, changing the authority
of chiefs and elders over local youth. ere is still much space however to better
understand the role of the titweng and gelweng in current South Sudanese conicts.
International and nationally-led initiatives to support a more constructive role for
Dinka youth should seek to address important gaps in knowledge about their roles in
violence and relationships locally. ese include, for example, evidence of resistance
among the titweng/gelweng to elite or military pressure to ght, sources of authority
or legitimacy that might regulate their behaviour and conduct in violence, and signs
of more productive, peaceful relationships that exist locally – among Dinka youth or
between Dinka youths and Nuer community forces – all of which could provide
constructive entry points for peace measures.
Programmatic considerations also abound. Disarmament alone has failed to deliver
improvements in local security or security provision in Lakes State, oen instead
deepening violence and worsening relationships with communities. A more eective
approach to security will need to respond to the reality that arms possession is both
a cause of violence and an unsurprising response to the pressing lack of state security
provision. In this context, measures geared at simply disarming or repressing the
gelweng/titweng – without concomitant work to reduce local violence risks – are
unlikely to succeed. Conict resolution expectations and measures in Lakes and
elsewhere instead need to be tied to generating livelihoods and entrepreneurship that
preserve local cultural attachment to cattle. Elite involvement in bride-wealth payments
and the ination of bride-wealth over recent years has also spurred violence. Local
calls for measures geared at limiting dowry payments exist, and need to be supported.
v. Conclusion:
harnessing and
managing the
role of non-
state security
actors
99 Human Rights Watch (2014), ‘South Sudan’s New War: Abuses by Government and Opposition Forces’; International Crisis
Group (2014), ‘South Sudan: A Civil War by Any Other Name’, April.
100 See for example Paterno S, Morgan S (2014), ‘South Sudan: The White Army factor in South Sudan’s conflict’, All Africa,
27 January; BBC News (2013), ‘Conflicting reports over White Army clashes’, 29 December (www.bbc.com/news/world-
africa-25543061); Vice (2014), ‘Saving South Sudan’, May (www.vice.com/read/saving-south-sudan).
101 Young J (2016), ‘Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan’s Civil War’ (Geneva: Small
Arms Survey); Adeba B (2015), ‘Making Sense of the White Army’s Return in South Sudan’, Centre for Security Governance
(1), February; Paterno S, Morgan S (2014), ‘South Sudan: The White Army factor in South Sudan’s conflict’, All Africa,
27 January.
4
The Nuer White Armies:
Comprehending South Sudan’s most infamous
community defence group
Ingrid Marie Breidlid and Michael J. Arensen
within days of the outbreak of conflict in Juba on 15 December 2013,
and the subsequent targeting of Nuer civilians by government security forces, armed
Nuer civilian youth – commonly known as the White Army – mobilised on a massive
scale to avenge the killings. In the following months, Nuer youth, ghting alongside
the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army-in-Opposition (SPLM/A-IO), clashed
with the government army (the SPLA) and its allies across the Greater Upper Nile
region. Both warring parties committed grave human rights violations against civilians
residing in conict-aected areas.99
While multiple civilian defence groups have mobilised in South Sudan since the start
of the present civil war, the Nuer White Army has received perhaps the most attention
from international observers. Media reports have perpetuated popular images of the
White Army as a ferocious, disorderly and uncontrollable force, driven by deep-rooted
hatred for the Dinka ethnic group.100 Researchers have oen reinforced some of these
narratives by focusing on secondary sources and the perspectives of the educated,
political and urban (or peri-urban) elite.101 Meanwhile, the views and perspectives of
the core membership of the White Armies – cattle camp youth residing in rural areas
of South Sudan – and the communities they reside within are rarely included. As a
result, the origins of the White Armies, their historical role in conict, and their complex
leadership and mobilisation structures remain poorly understood.
is chapter aims to complement and challenge existing literature on the White
Armies by situating them in wider Nuer society and the history of Nuer responses to
local and political violence. It highlights a number of factors that are central to under-
standing the nature of the White Armies today, including their origins in community
defence and protection, sophisticated leadership and mobilisation structures, historical
involvement in political wars, and the complex motivations behind their decisions to
i. Introduction
28 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
102 In this period, the authors have conducted multiple field studies of youth/White Armies involvement in violence. Michael J.
Arensen conducted research and has done peace programming for different organisations, including AECOM, Pact, Oxfam,
IOM and RVI. Ingrid Marie Breidlid carried out research for the PRIO project ‘Youth and Violence in South Sudan’ funded
by the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and her PhD, under the PRIO project ‘Dynamics of State Failure and Violence’,
funded by the Norwegian Research Council. The researchers carried out primary research in various payams and bomas of
Akobo, Uror, Nyirol, Pibor, Twic East, Duk, Leer, Mayendit, Ulang and Nasir counties of South Sudan, as well as in Matar and
Lare in Gambella, Ethiopia.
103 While these interviews contributed to complement and corroborate some of the data collected among the primary
respondents in rural areas of Greater Upper Nile, their responses were often biased and influenced by the political context,
and in many cases differed significantly from the responses by White Army members and other Nuer community members
residing in rural areas. This further illustrates the importance of interviewing primary respondents directly in studies of the
White Armies, especially those residing in rural areas of South Sudan.
104 Young J (2007), ‘The White Army: An Introduction and Overview’ (Geneva: Small Arms Survey, Graduate Institute of
International and Development Studies, Geneva; Thomas E (2015), South Sudan’s Slow Liberation (London: Zed Books). BBC
News (2013), ‘Conflicting reports over White Army clashes’, 29 December (www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-25543061).
105 Breidlid I M, Arensen M (2014), ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’ (Oslo: Peace Research Institute) p 5. In the recent
conflict, as well as in the past, some White Army fighters received military uniforms from regular forces. They are nonetheless
regarded as ‘civilians’ – and commonly make alterations to their uniforms in order to distinguish themselves from the regular
soldiers. Although the Nuer White Army is the most well-known example, the term ‘white’ to describe untrained civilian
fighters is also used by other ethnic groups in South Sudan.
106 Breidlid I M, Arensen M, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’. Greater Upper Nile is comprised of the former states of Upper
Nile, Jonglei and Unity. The government has since dissolved these states, as part of the presidential decree to create 28 new
states, but SPLM/A-IO rejects this decree.
107 John Young also used the plural form of the ‘White Armies’ when describing the different White Army units in eastern Nuer
areas, see The White Army: An Introduction and Overview p 16.
participate in violence. Far from a recent or ‘unruly’ feature of South Sudans changing
security scene, the White Armies are continuations of traditional Nuer defence
structures, which have evolved in response to an increasingly hostile and militarised
environment. As they usually engage in defence and oences on behalf of their
communities, the White Armies are locally perceived to be legitimate security providers.
e White Armies’ ecient leadership and mobilisation structures have at the same
time made them desirable allies for military actors, as illustrated by their alignment
with SPLA-IO in the current civil war.
e chapter concludes by outlining the steps needed to engage the White Armies in
constructive peace and security sector reform processes in the future. Attempts to
manage the White Armies in the past through disarmament campaigns or measures to
integrate forces into state security organs have failed largely because the factors under-
pinning their existence as a force – a failure of governance, particularly in security and
justice provision – have never been addressed. Better understanding of and engagement
with community defence structures such as the White Armies in security provision
will be essential to facilitate a durable peace in Greater Upper Nile and South Sudan
more widely.
is chapter is based on primary research on the White Armies conducted in various
rural locations of the Greater Upper Nile region between 2011 and 2016.102 During this
time period, more than 300 semi-structured interviews and focus group discussions
were carried out with primary respondents, including current and former White Armies
members and leaders residing in cattle camps and villages, educated town youth,
elders, women, and traditional authorities. Separate interviews were also conducted
with government ocials at the local and national level and with representatives of the
Nuer elite and SPLM/A-IO politicians in Nairobi, Kenya and Gambella, Ethiopia.103
e name the White Army, or dec in bor in Nuer, is commonly thought to derive from
the ash youth cover their bodies with to protect against mosquitos.104 According to
current and former White Army members, however, the term refers to their lack of
uniforms and training, and contrasts with the Black Army, or dec in char, a Nuer term
for trained soldiers in uniform.105 e White Army is not a single cohesive force, but
is comprised of various Nuer community defence groups in the Greater Upper Nile
region.106 ese forces might therefore more accurately be referred to as the White
Armies.107
Although the name emerged at dierent times in various Nuer areas over the last
few decades, the White Armies are continuations of traditional Nuer mobilisation
ii. Origins:
kinship, conflict
and community
defence
saferworld 29
108 Evans-Pritchard E E (1969), The Nuer: A Description of the Modes of Livelihood and Political Institutions of a Nilotic People
(Oxford: Oxford University Press).
109 Ibid; See also Simonse S (2005), ‘Warriors, hooligans and mercenaries: failed statehood and the violence of young male
pastoralists in the Horn of Africa’, in Abbink J, van Kessel I (eds) (2004), Vanguard or vandals: youth, politics, and conflict in
Africa (Boston: Brill Academic Publishers).
110 Hutchinson S E (1996), Nuer Dilemmas: Coping with Money, War and the State, 1st Edition (Berkeley: University of California
Press); Lienhardt G (1961), Divinity and Experience?: The Religion of the Dinka: The Religion of the Dinka (Oxford: Oxford
University Press). The initiation process to become a man involves the receiving of a gaar, or tribal scarring.
111 Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer. “A feud or ter, is fighting within a tribe (sub-ethnic group) or a mutual hostility between local
communities within a tribe (sub-ethnic group), with the possibility of arbitration and payment of bloodwealth. More
accurately it describes the relations between the kin on both sides in a situation of homicide, for it then refers to a specific
institution, often referred to as ‘blood feud’ (p 150). “Kur is a fight between tribes (sub-ethnic groups). If a community of
one tribe attempts to avenge a homicide on a community of another tribe, a state of intertribal war ensues. No claims of
compensation would here be recognized”, p 161.
112 Ibid.
113 Johnson, Nuer Prophets; Johnson D H (1982), ‘Tribal Boundaries and Border Wars: Nuer-Dinka Relations in the Sobat and
Zaraf Valleys, c. 1860–1976’, The Journal of African History 23 (2), 1 January, pp 183–203; Fukui K, Markakis J (1994),
Ethnicity & Conflict in the Horn of Africa (Woodbridge: James Currey Publishers).
114 Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer.
115 The Lou Nuer and Jikany Nuer White Armies, however, fought under separate leadership structures. Breidlid I M, Michael
Arensen M, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
116 Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer.
117 Johnson, Nuer Prophets; Evans-Pritchard, The Nuer.
structures documented by the anthropologist Evans Pritchard in the 1930s.108 e
involvement of Nuer youth in the White Armies is closely linked to their security
responsibilities at home – to their role as cattle keepers and protectors of the family’s
cattle wealth.109 Similar to other pastoralist communities in South Sudan, aer Nuer
boys go through an initiation ceremony to become men, they are given the prime
responsibility of protecting the family’s cattle herd against wild animals and potential
enemies.110 is can involve participating in ‘blood feuds’, inter-communal wars and
revenge attacks.111
Nuer youth coordinate their protection responsibilities as part of territorial units
at various levels – ranging from the smallest homestead unit to larger sections and
even sub-ethnic groups. e Nuer ethnic group is divided into 11 dierent sub-ethnic
groups – such as the Lou Nuer and Eastern Jikany Nuer to the east of the Nile, or Bul
Nuer and Dok Nuer to the west. ese groups are again divided into primary sections
and sub-sections (or cieng in Nuer).112 Importantly, Nuer peoples identify more closely
with their immediate kinship groups than the larger sections and the greater ethnic
group.113 Reecting this, intra-Nuer feuds frequently occur between sections at various
levels, over social matters, cattle, grazing and water points, as well as homicides. When
faced with external threats, however, members of these groups oen temporarily seek
unity.114 Members of the Lou Nuer primary sections of Gun and Mor, for example –
based in Greater Akobo – ght each other frequently, but unite when threatened or
attacked by other ethnic groups (as they have done in response to the Murle in Pibor
and Dinka in Bor) or sub-ethnic groups (such as the Jikany Nuer). On rare occasions,
sub-ethnic groups like the Lou Nuer and Jikany Nuer – which fought frequently
between 1993 and 2010 – have also aligned. is was most recently illustrated in their
joint mobilisations in support of SPLA-IO during the civil war.115 e ability to unify
Nuer youth across sectional divides accounts for the White Armies signicant
mobilising power. Ecient local leadership structures in place also play signicant
roles in large-scale mobilisations.
Popular presentations of the White Armies as an unruly mob ignore the complex
leadership structures regulating violence within and between Nuer communities and
their neighbours. Leadership within the White Armies is exible and has evolved over
time in response to changing security risks and dynamics. During the colonial period,
war leaders at village levels were self-appointed or selected on a temporary basis for
specic raids or local feuds because of their skill and bravery.116 Larger mobilisations
required the permission and guidance of Nuer prophets, who would perform sacrices
and sometimes accompany youth in battles against neighbouring communities.117
iii. Leadership,
legitimacy and
command and
control
30 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
118 Breidlid I M (work in progress), Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations in the Dynamics of Violence in South Sudan.
PhD, University of Oslo.
119 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations. The term was initially kuaar bura, but later changed to kuaar burnam.
While most Lou and Jikany respondents dated the formation of kuaar bura positions to the 1970s, in some areas lower level
positions emerged already during the 1960s. Interestingly, the historian Dereje Feyissa has also referred to the term ‘bura’
[Anuak word for youth], when discussing the mobilisation of Nuer and Anuak fighters on both sides of the Sudan/Ethiopia
border during the first Sudanese civil war. See Feyissa D (2015), ‘Power and Its Discontents: Anywaa’s Reactions to the
Expansion of the Ethiopian State, 1950–1991’, The International Journal of African Historical Studies 48 (1), 1 January, p 31.
Meanwhile, Sharon Hutchinson and Jok Madut Jok also reference a Nuer ‘youth brigade’ known as burnam, emerging
during the first civil war. See ‘Sudan’s Second Prolonged War and the Militarization of Nuer and Dinka Ethnicities.’ African
Studies Review, 42 (2), September, pp 125–45.
120 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
121 Ibid.
122 Breidlid and Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’, p 6.
123 Ibid.
124 Ibid. Greater Akobo includes the area that was comprised of the three counties of Akobo, Nyirol and Uror in Jonglei State,
as of the recognised borders in 2013. Although not a permanent position, the current overall kuaar burnam for Greater
Akobo has held his position since 2011 because of the longstanding warfare between Lou Nuer and Murle communities and
involvement in the new civil war.
125 The critical role of contemporary Nuer prophets was reflected in a series of interviews conducted in Akobo, Nyirol, Uror, Duk,
Leer, Mayendit and Matar (Gambella) in the period between 2012–2014. Apart from interviews with White Army members
and other segments of Nuer society, interviews were also conducted with the influential Lou Nuer prophet in Uror, Dak Kueth
(20 February 2012, Michael Arensen) as well as with a Lou Nuer prophet in Akobo east, Yien Tut (8 December 2012, Ingrid
Marie Breidlid). See also Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’; Hutchinson S E, Pendle N (2015), ‘Violence,
legitimacy, and prophecy: Nuer struggles with uncertainty in South Sudan’, American Ethnologist, 00 (0) pp 1–16.
126 Johnson, Nuer Prophets.
e violence of the rst and second civil wars, however, precipitated the introduction
of new leadership positions and ghting tactics.118 Recent research carried out among
Lou and Jikany Nuer communities suggests that permanent leadership positions,
known as kuaar burnam, were established in the 1960s and 1970s in several eastern
Nuer locations in response to rising levels of insecurity, internal fragmentation among
the Nuer, and local leadership vacuums.119 Similar leadership structures spread to
western Nuer areas in the 1990s.120
e kuaar burnam structures have since come to play critical roles in mobilisation
and decision-making processes within the White Armies. Mirroring the hierarchical
system of chiefs created by the British colonial administration, each unit of organisation
within local White Armies is represented by their own kuaar burnam – from the
smallest territorial unit (the homestead) to the county level.121 Compared to Nuer
war leaders in the past, kuaar burnam today have an expanded range of security
responsibilities during both war and peace time. While they are better known for
coordinating community defence and leading revenge attacks, these leaders are also
responsible for mitigating internal disputes, as well as negotiating pasture access and
peace agreements with neighbours. Elected by their youth, kuaar burnam perceived
to be performing poorly can be voted out.122
Hierarchies organising the kuaar burnam enable ecient command and control, with
representatives from smaller sections reporting to the representative a level above.123
Currently, the highest permanent kuaar burnam position within the largest and most
active White Army group – the Lou Nuer White Army in Jonglei – is at the county
level. However, in times of war, requiring the involvement of all Lou Nuer sections, an
overall Lou Nuer White Army leader for Greater Akobo is selected among the county
leaders.124 e leadership hierarchy enables Nuer communities to rapidly mobilise
civilian ghters on a large scale. Despite being local initiatives, the White Armies
ecient leadership and mobilisation structures have made them desirable allies for
military and political actors, as seen during the second Sudanese civil war and in the
ongoing conict.
e increased decision-making powers of youth and their leaders within the White
Armies has not eclipsed the role of elders and inuential spiritual leaders, who continue
to inuence, both in terms of restricting and promoting, decisions to engage in
violence.125 As in the past, Nuer prophets play important roles promoting internal
peace and social cohesion among Nuer sections.126 Concurrently, some prophets have
also promoted and morally sanctioned youths’ participation in large-scale violence
through guidance and blessings of youth ghters ahead of raids and oensives.
Importantly, the powers and inuence of prophets can extend beyond sub-ethnic
saferworld 31
127 Ibid.
128 Interviews with Nyareweng youth in Poktap, Duk County, March 2013, Ingrid Marie Breidlid. Interviews with Lou Nuer youth
in Uror, Nyirol and Akobo counties, 2011–2012, Michael Arensen.
129 Ibid. The prophet did not move with the youth to Pibor, but communicated with youth leaders via satellite phone.
130 Interviews carried out with White Army fighters and SPLA-IO soldiers in Nuer districts of Matar and Lare, Gambella, February-
March 2014. See also Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone Who Can Carry a Gun Can Go’.
131 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
132 Young, ‘The White Army’; Young, ‘Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan’s Civil
War’; Thomas, South Sudan Slow Liberation; Skedsmo A (2003), ‘The Changing Meaning of Small Arms in Nuer Society’,
African Security Studies Review, 12 (4) pp 57–68.
133 Human Rights Watch Africa (1994), Civilian Devastation: Abuses by All Parties in the War in Southern Sudan. (New York:
Human Rights Watch). This event has commonly been referred to as the ‘Bor massacre’.
134 In October 2015, South Sudan’s President Salva Kiir decreed that the country’s ten states would be sub-divided into 28 states,
a measure that was subsequently approved by parliament. This article refers primarily to the ten state borders that existed
prior to the announcement, for ease of reference only.
135 Human Rights Watch Africa (1994), Civilian Devastation: Abuses by All Parties in the War in Southern Sudan (New York:
Human Rights Watch); Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
and even ethnic lines.127 In one of the most signicant examples from the post-CPA
period, the Lou Nuer prophet Dak Kueth facilitated a military alliance between Dinka
Nyareweng and Lou Nuer youth ahead of a major retaliatory attack on Murle commu-
nities in Pibor in December 2011.128 Although the attack was organised and led by the
high-level leadership of the Lou Nuer White Army in coordination with Nyareweng
Dinka youth, Dak Kueth played a signicant advisory, spiritual, and unifying role
before and during the oensive.129 Nuer prophets have continued to play an important
role brokering and legitimising violence in the current civil war. Military actors –
including SPLA-IO leaders – have in turn sought to collaborate closely with Nuer
prophets in order to increase their leverage over Nuer youths and their involvement
in the war.130
When war broke out in December 2013, Nuer White Armies in the Greater Upper
Nile region fought alongside SPLM/A-IO in their battles over control of the three state
capitals of Greater Upper Nile: Bentiu, Bor and Malakal. ese combined forces
perpetrated extreme violence, including killings and rapes of non-combatants seeking
refuge in churches, mosques and hospitals. Revenge for atrocities committed against
Nuer civilians in Juba in the rst few days of the war no doubt motivated many ghters.
Participation of the White Armies in the violence, however, also needs to be under-
stood in the context of a longer history of involvement in political violence. Although
the organisation of the White Armies takes place at local levels, political and military
actors have always had strong interests in using these structures to pursue their own
political and military aims.131
Existing literature traces the emergence of the Nuer White Armies to the 1991 split in
the SPLM/A – triggered by the fall of its primary backer, the Ethiopian Derg – and the
subsequent outbreak of violence between the SPLA-Nasir faction, led by Riek Machar,
and SPLA-Torit, led by John Garang.132 e November 1991 military oensive by the
SPLM/A-Nasir faction and aligned Nuer civilians against Garang’s faction and Dinka
communities in Greater Bor has commonly been described as a turning point in the
dynamics of South-South warfare. e attack, known as the ‘Bor massacre, involved
widespread violence against Dinka communities, including killings, abductions and
looting. Villages in Kongor and Bor were completely destroyed and large parts of the
population displaced.133 e attack was followed by devastating retaliatory violence by
Garang’s faction and aligned Dinka civilians on Nuer communities in Jonglei, with the
ghting subsequently spreading to Unity, Lakes and Warrap.134, 135 Closely related to
the available literature on the emergence of the Nuer White Armies, many South
Sudanese and international academics have described the post-1991 factional violence,
including the involvement of civilians in intentional killings of women, children
The second Sudanese
civil war 1983–2005
iv. History of
involvement in
government
wars
32 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
136 Jok, Hutchinson, ‘Sudan’s Prolonged Second Civil War and the Militarization of Nuer and Dinka Ethnic Identities’; Hutchinson
S E (2000), ‘Nuer Ethnicity Militarized’, Anthropology Today 16 (3), June, pp 6–13.
137
While the nature of cooperation became more sophisticated in the 1980s, eastern Nuer youth fought in support of Anyanya II
rebels against the Sudan Armed Forces already in the period 1975–1983. Following the split between SPLM/A and Anyanya II
and subsequent factional warfare (1983–1987), many eastern Nuer youth mobilised to fight alongside Anyanya II against
SPLA. After the merger between the two rival factions in 1988, eastern Nuer youth were used by SPLA in military offences
against SAF and rival southern factions (Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations) Evidence also indicates
Nuer civilians were involved in political warfare in the first civil war, but more research is required on their organisation and
relations with regular forces. See Feyissa, ‘Power and Its Discontents’; Johnson, Nuer Prophets.
138 Interviews with former Lou and Jikany Nuer civilian fighters in Akobo, Nyirol, Uror, and Matar (2012–2016) (Breidlid, Youth,
Identities and State-Society Relations).
139 Hutchinson S E (2000), ‘Nuer ethnicity militarized’, Anthropology Today 16 (3), pp 6–13; Jok J M, Hutchinson S E (1999),
‘Sudan’s Prolonged Second Civil War and the Militarization of Nuer and Dinka Ethnic Identities’, African Studies Review 42 (2)
pp 125–45.
140 Ibid.
141 While some Nuer politicians may want to divert the responsibility of Bor massacre to Nuer civilians, interviews with both Nuer
and Dinka respondents suggest that many of the killings were carried out by Anyanya II fighters and SPLA-Nasir soldiers.
Anyanya II fighters, who recently had merged with Machar’s Nasir forces – were mainly from Bul Nuer and Lak Nuer. While
White Army fighters also engaged in the brutal killings of civilians, many focused their activities on cattle raiding, looting and
abductions (Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
142 Interviews with Dok and Haak Nuer respondents, Leer and Mayendit (November–December 2013) (Breidlid, Youth, Identities
and State-Society Relations); Although intentional killings of women, children and elders during Dinka-Nuer warfare were
rare in the period preceding the second civil war, there has been a tendency to romanticise the past. As documented by
Douglas Johnson, extreme violence did also occur during violent revenge attacks between rival communities during the
colonial period. See Johnson, Nuer Prophets.
and elders, as unprecedented in Nuer-Dinka warfare.136 e participation of civilian
ghters in the factional warfare following the split of the SPLM/A in 1991, including
the ‘Bor massacre, undeniably marked important changes in the nature and form of
violence in the South, both in terms of scale of civilian mobilisation and magnitude
of violence. However, this narrative overlooks a longer historical process of civilian
militarisation and mobilisations into political violence, including involvement in
violence against non-combatants.
Importantly, the participation of Nuer and Dinka youth in political warfare and extreme
violence were not new developments in 1991. According to previously unpublished
research, eastern Nuer youth, organised by their respective leaders (kuuar burnam),
participated in military oensives against the Sudanese army and rival southern
factions as early as the 1970s and 1980s.137 Interviews with Lou and Jikany Nuer former
civilian ghters further suggest that the term dec in bor to describe Nuer civilian
ghters had currency in some eastern Nuer areas during the same period, spreading to
western Nuer areas in the 1990s (some Jikany and Lou Nuer former youth ghters even
claimed the term was used in their areas as early as the 1960s).138 Hence, the factional
violence following the 1991 split of the SPLA did not mark the birth of the White
Armies, but brought both the term and involvement of civilians in political warfare
to the attention of international observers. e evolution of the Nuer White Armies
should therefore be seen within the context of a gradual militarisation of local defence
structures in response to an increasingly hostile environment.
South-South violence aer the 1991 split of SPLM/A was widespread. While government
and rebel forces remained the key perpetrators of violence against civilians, aligned
civilian ghters, who had their own local grievances, also participated in killings,
raiding, looting and destruction of villages. e involvement of civilians in extreme
forms of violence during this period has been attributed to the miltiarisation of Nuer
and Dinka ethnic identities (see also below discussion of ‘ethnic conict’).139
As suggested by Hutchinson and Jok, the brutality of warfare, combined with direct
interventions by military leaders, redened the ethics of war as well as the social and
spiritual consequences of homicide in ‘government wars.’ is contributed to the
erosion of traditional social control mechanisms and facilitated indiscriminate killings
of non-combatants, including women, children and elders.140 While atrocities against
civilians intensied in many areas – reecting local ghters increased experience with
and exposure to extreme violence and modern rearms – the types of violence
committed against civilians aer the 1991 split were not new in the history of South-
South violence.141 Indeed, according to local Dok and Haak Nuer respondents in Leer
and Mayendit, Unity State, women and children were also directly targeted in a series
of brutal revenge attacks between Nuer and Dinka communities of Unity, Warrap and
Lakes states in the 1980s.142 Meanwhile, during the factional warfare between SPLM/A
saferworld 33
143 SPLM/A carried out atrocities against Lou and Jikany Nuer communities in Jonglei, Upper Nile and along the Sudan-Ethiopian
border during the Anyanya-SPLA conflict (1983–1987). Meanwhile, Anyanya II units carried out brutal attacks against Dinka
civilians and SPLA recruits (Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations); See also Johnson, Root Causes; Nyaba P A
(1996), The Politics of Liberation in South Sudan (Kampala: Fountain Publ.).
144 Johnson D H (2009), ‘The Nuer Civil Wars’ in Changing Identifications and Alliances in North-East Africa: Sudan, Uganda,
and the Ethiopia-Sudan Borderlands, Schlee G, Watson E E (eds) (Oxford: Berghahn Books). Interviews with Dok Nuer
respondents in Leer, November-December 2013 (Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
145 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
146 Rolandsen, Øystein H, Breidlid I M (2013), ‘What is Youth Violence in Jonglei?’ (Oslo: Peace Research Institute Oslo).
147 The magnitude of violence against civilians even reached international headlines. See www.bbc.com/news/world-
africa-16575153
148 Interviews with White Army members and kuaar burnam in Leer and Mayendit, Unity State, November–December 2013
(Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations) .
149 Amnesty International (2012), ‘South Sudan: Lethal Disarmament. Abuses related to civilian disarmament in Pibor County,
Jonglei State’; O’Brien A (2009), ‘Shots in the Dark: The 2008 South Sudan Civilian Disarmament Campaign’, Small Arms
Survey. Arnold M B and Alden C (2007), ‘“This Gun is our Food”: Demilitarising the White Army Militias of South Sudan.’
Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (722).
and Anyanya II (1983–1987), both parties committed grave atrocities against Nuer and
Dinka civilians.143
Importantly, although most of the literature focuses on Nuer-Dinka warfare, much
of the South-South factional warfare aer the 1991 SPLM/A split actually took place
between internal Nuer sections and factions in the Greater Upper Nile region.144
Similarly, internal conicts frequently occurred between Dinka communities during
the same period. As the civil war endured, military factions fragmented further and
rival commanders increasingly relied on community defence groups, such as the Nuer
White Armies for military support. Local commanders frequently manipulated kinship
and section identities to mobilise support from their own communities, contributing
to militarise and fragment local communities further. Meanwhile, Nuer youth and
chiefs were largely driven into alliances with military actors in their quests for weapons
and ammunition, which advanced their abilities to protect their communities against
state and non-state armed actors as well as to settle scores against rival communities.145
ese dynamics would inevitably contribute to intensify inter-communal conicts in
the post-2005 period.
Aer the signing of the CPA in 2005, which ended the second Sudanese civil war,
security in many rural areas remained in the hands of local youth.146 In the absence
of security and justice provision by the South Sudanese government, the Nuer White
Armies remained the primary security force in their localities, regularly engaging
in extreme violence and committing serious human rights abuses against civilians
with impunity. Local grievances and trauma stemming from atrocities committed
by warring factions and civilian ghters during the civil war were never adequately
addressed, resulting in revival of inter-communal violence in many locations. In the
period between 2007 and 2013, the Lou Nuer White Army and Murle youth in Jonglei
engaged in a vicious cycle of revenge attacks. e violence reached its peak in 2011,
with entire villages burned to the ground, tens of thousands of cattle looted, thousands
of civilians killed, and women and children abducted on both sides.147 Although the
violence in Jonglei received more attention from international observers, western
Nuer communities in Unity State were also involved in a series of violent conicts with
Dinka communities in Warrap and Lakes states in the same period, where Nuer White
Armies and Dinka youth engaged in cattle raids, looting, destruction of property and
killings of non-combatants.148
e South Sudanese government conducted three military-led campaigns to disarm
civilians in Jonglei, in 2006, 2008 and 2012. ese initiatives, however, had little impact
curbing the violence, with abuses committed against civilians by SPLA troops during
campaigns also deepening popular mistrust towards the central government.149
Close links between local disputes and political conicts at the centre also undermined
such initiatives, as state and non-state actors sought to manipulate local grievances and
mobilise local defence groups in pursuance of their own military and political goals.
Aer losing an election in 2010 former SPLA General George Athor distributed
The ‘inter-war’ period
(2005–2013)
34 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
150 According to Lou Nuer White Army members, George Athor subsequently demanded payment for the guns in the form of
cattle. Interviews with Lou Nuer youth in Akobo, Nyirol and Uror, 2011–2013.
151 Interviews with White Army youth in Uror, Nyirol and Walgak, 2013 and 2015. Similar dynamics were also documented
during the second civil war (Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
152 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone Who Can Carry a Gun Can Go’.
153 Breidlid I M, Arensen M J (2014), ‘Demystifying the White Army: Nuer armed civilians’ involvement in the South Sudanese
Crisis’, Accord Conflict Trends Magazine; Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
154 Ibid.
155 Reportedly tensions between the Lou Nuer kuaar burnam and the initial SPLA-IO commander in Jonglei, Peter Gadet, led to
the redeployment of Gadet to Unity State.
156 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
157 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’. The kuaar burnam for the three Akobo counties were given the rank
of colonel or lt. colonel. Interviews with White Army leader, Akobo March 2015 (Michael Arensen). During the second civil
war as well as in 2005, SPLA also sought to integrate kuaar burnam into their units, giving them the military ranks (Breidlid,
Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
158 The mobilisation and failed revenge attack by the Lou Nuer White Army against Murle in February 2016 seems to confirm
this. The numbers of mobilised youth were far lower than in the recent past and the lack of coordination between the youth
led to a deadly ambush by Murle upon their return. Interviews with White Army members, Akobo February 2016 (Michael
Arensen).
weapons and ammunition to Lou Nuer youth in an attempt to mobilise them for his
insurgency against the government. Most Lou Nuer youth had no interest in his political
agenda, however, and instead used their newly acquired weapons in local conicts
with the Murle.150 According to several White Army members, SPLA also encouraged
Lou Nuer youth to mobilise for a large-scale attack on Murle communities in Pibor
in June 2013.151 While many Lou Nuer youth sought revenge for a previous attack by
suspected Murle in Akobo West in February 2013, the attack also indirectly supported
the ongoing SPLA counter-insurgency operation against David Yau Yau’s SSDA Cobra
Faction in Pibor.
e large-scale mobilisations of Nuer youth aer the war broke out in December 2013
needs to be seen within this historical and socio-political context. As in the past, the
White Armies organised and led by their respective youth leaders, participated in
military battles both independently and in parallel with professional soldiers (Black
Armies) in order to protect their communities and avenge atrocities perpetrated against
Nuer civilians in Juba.152 In the early stages of the war, SPLA-IO military commanders
organised military oensives against the SPLA in Bor and Malakal in coordination
with local kuaar burnam and their White Army forces. Members of the Jikany Nuer
White Army involved in the assault on Malakal in December 2013 claimed that they –
and not the SPLA-IO – were primarily responsible for capturing the town.153 rough-
out the conict, the Nuer White Armies of Upper Nile, Jonglei and Unity states were
not ghting under a common command structure, but continued to mobilise and
organise youth ghters separately under their respective youth leaders: they were not,
as such, a single ghting force.154
Although the SPLM/A-IO leadership depends on the military support of the White
Armies, they do not always have control over the youth or even their leaders.155 Most
youth, driven by local security obligations, have little interest in political agendas,
long-term oensives, or being based in areas far away from home.156 In an attempt to
enhance control over the youth and encourage recruitment into its military units, the
SPLM/A-IO military leadership, like the SPLA in the 1980s, has increasingly sought
to integrate Nuer youth leadership into their command structures, with the top kuaar
burnam in Lou Nuer areas receiving ranks, uniforms and training.157 e integration
of former kuaar burnam has facilitated coordination between the White Armies and
SPLA-IO during joint civil-military oensives. While new kuaar burnam have been
selected to replace those recruited into the military, the integration of inuential kuaar
burnam may at the same time reduce internal control within local White Armies, as
the new leaders do not always have the inuence or experience of those they have
replaced.158
Commitment to their communities continues to motivate the White Armies and
their leaders. As part of their social obligations to protect their communities, attempts
to rescue Nuer civilians vulnerable to attack or displaced by ghting have been an
The ‘new’ South
Sudanese civil war
saferworld 35
159 Interview, Akobo, March 2015 (Michael Arensen).
160 Interviews with IDPs in Bor PoC, December 2015 (Michael Arensen).
161 Arensen M (2016), ‘If We Leave We Are Killed: Lessons Learned from South Sudan Protection of Civilian Sites 2013–2016’,
International Organisation for Migration South Sudan, p 34.
162 Ibid. Center for Civilians in Conflict (2016), ‘A Refuge in Flames: The February 17–18 Violence in Malakal POC’.
163 Center for Civilians in Conflict (2016), ‘Under Fire: The July 2016 Violence in Juba and UN Response’, October.
164 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone Who Can Carry a Gun Can Go’.
165 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations; Rolandsen, Breidlid (2013), ‘What is Youth Violence in Jonglei?’;
Skedsmo A (2003), ‘The Changing Meaning of Small Arms in Nuer Society’ African Security Studies Review 12 (4), pp 57–68.
166 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’; see also Rolandsen, Breidlid (2013), ‘What is Youth Violence in
Jonglei?’.
important driver for mobilisation. e White Army leader of Akobo County at the
time, as well as other members, claimed in interviews that a failed oensive by the
Lou Nuer White Army against the capital Juba in December 2013 was motivated not
only by revenge but also by a desire to protect Nuer civilians.159 Tens of thousands of
Nuer civilians were seeking refuge in UNMISS bases – which had become protection
of civilians (PoC) sites following the outbreak of ghting – and the White Armies
intended on escorting them back to Nuer territory. e White Armies also took action
to protect Nuer civilians displaced by ghting in Bor town, which saw some of the
most devastating violence during the early weeks of the war. In early 2014, the Lou
Nuer White Army escorted Nuer internally displaced persons (IDPs) sheltering in the
Bor UNMISS base to Lou Nuer land.160 An April 2014 attack on the Bor base by Dinka
armed civilians culminated in the deaths of over 40 Nuer civilians. In the wake of the
attack, some Nuer IDPs staying in the UN PoC sites in Bentiu and Malakal decided to
travel by ra and foot all the way to Akobo town – a distance of over 400 km – to seek
the protection of the White Armies.161 Another attack by government forces on the
Malakal PoC in February 2016 reinforced a conviction that they were safer under the
protection of the White Armies than UN peacekeepers.162
e re-eruption of violence in Juba between SPLM/A-IO and SPLA soldiers in July
2016 has exacerbated fears among Nuer, including members of the White Armies,
about the eectiveness of national and international security institutions. Reports that
government soldiers targeted Nuer civilians during the violence, including dozens
of cases of rape inside and nearby an UNMISS base in Juba, will increase perceptions
that local security options continue to be essential to protect Nuer lives.163 Unless the
planned deployment of regional troops is able to enforce peace and protect civilians
in the capital, another mass mobilisation of the White Armies to Juba will remain a
possibility.
e White Armies involvement in violent conict – in the current war and in the past –
largely reects their social obligations to protect their families and livestock. Community
defence and justice provision, in the form of revenge, has long been one of the strongest
motivators for participation in the White Armies. Economic and social incentives –
including opportunities to loot and raid cattle, access guns and ammunition, and
obtain status and respect – also encourage many youth to participate in violence.164
Elders and chiefs frequently complain about their ‘unruly’ and ‘disrespectful’ youth.
While engagement in warfare and looting, combined with the status and power
accorded to the kuaar burnam, increased the socio-economic independence of
youth, at the same time intergenerational interactions are marked by collaboration
and mutual support.165 is is demonstrated in regular consultations between White
Army leaders, elders and local authorities on matters pertaining to security, as well as
the widespread communal support for youth ghters ahead of large-scale raids and
revenges, in the form of logistical support, food, and blessings. While participation
in the White Armies is mainly voluntary, during times of high intensity conict every
able-bodied male is expected to join local units, from boys as young as ten to men
in their late forties.166 Social pressure to participate in the White Armies is especially
v. Conduits of
an ethnic war?
White Armies’
motivations for
participating in
violence
36 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
167 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Demystifying the White Army: Nuer armed civilians’ involvement in the South Sudanese Crisis’ p 35;
Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
168 Ibid.
169 Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
171 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
172 Ibid.
173 Interviews with Lou Nuer, Dok Nuer and Jikany Nuer respondents in Akobo, Nyirol, Uror, Leer, Mayendit, Matar (2012–2014).
These socially taboo forms of violence were frequently carried out by state and non-state armed actors during the second
civil war, post-CPA period and in the recent warfare. Breidlid, Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations.
174 Some testimonies focus on how some White Army youth protected them from other fighters. For instance, pregnant women
and old men are not valued abductees, however, a pregnant Murle woman explained how she was abducted by a youth to
prevent her murder during an attack on Pibor in 2011 (Interview Pibor April 2012, Michael Arensen). More recently a Shilluk
elder from Malakal narrated how a member of the Lou Nuer White Army abducted him in 2014 to prevent him from being
killed. Both stories were shared by the victims themselves, who explained their abductions as a means of protection.
See Arensen, ‘If we leave we are killed: Lessons learned from South Sudan Protection of Civilian Sites 2013–2016’, p 51.
175 Importantly, some fighters engage more actively in extreme forms of violence, while others mainly participate in raiding and/
or abductions.
176 Young J (2016), ‘Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan’s Civil War’ p 15; Adeba B,
‘Making Sense of the White Army’s Return in South Sudan’.
177 In a televised speech on 17 December 2013 President Kiir alluded to the 1991 Bor Massacre carried out by Machar’s SPLM/A
Nasir Faction against Dinka civilians.
178 Breidlid and Arensen, ‘Anyone Who Can Carry a Gun Can Go’.
strong during times of war, making it dicult for youth to stay behind. During these
periods, young women perform songs of encouragement and may insult those who do
not join in the ghting.167 Over the past decade and in the current civil war participation
has expanded: involvement in large-scale attacks is no longer limited to young men in
cattle camps but also includes educated town youth and military veterans.168 Educated
urban youth and businessmen provide important links between the leadership of the
White Armies and government authorities and military actors, facilitating dissemination
of information (and sometimes misinformation), and access to regional markets.169
Uninitiated boys, some as young as eight, are also occasionally brought along to
observe and assist.170 From December 2013, support for and participation in the White
Armies expanded further as many SPLA-IO soldiers, preferring to ght close to their
home territories and alongside their kin, joined their ranks.171
Violence perpetrated by the White Armies continues to be constrained by community
norms. While participation in large-scale revenges and wars are sanctioned and
considered ‘legitimate’ by the community, small-scale cattle thes, usually carried out
by a small group of youth, are not.172 Equally, during large-scale revenge attacks, not all
forms of violence are condoned. Previously considered taboo among Nuer communities,
the killings of women, children and elders have increasingly become socially accepted
as a form of local justice during revenge. Other types of violence, however, such as
sexual violence, torture, and mutilations, continue to be considered unacceptable.173
Anecdotal evidence suggests these norms continued to constrain youth from partici-
pating in some forms of violence during the inter-war period and in the ongoing civil
war.174 ere are, however, signicant individual dierences between White Army
ghters. Military cooperation with professional soldiers, who frequently engaged in
socially unacceptable forms of extreme violence, inevitably contributed to inuence
the tactics of some White Army ghters.175 As seen in the past and in recent warfare,
military and political actors’ manipulation of local grievances and ethnic identities
also contributed to intensify local and political violence.
Echoing the post-1991 split and factional ghting, the current conict has pitted rival
political leaders belonging to South Sudan’s two largest ethnic groups – the Dinka and
the Nuer – against each other. Media reports and international observers have in turn
tended to attribute the violence and the drivers of Nuer youth mobilisation in the
conict to a “deep-seated hatred of the Dinka and a desire for revenge.176 South
Sudanese politicians have also sought to generate support and antagonise rural
communities by playing the ‘ethnic card’, appealing to ethnic sentiment and invoking
the memory of past factional violence.177
e focus on ‘ethnic hatred’ may, however, disguise more than it reveals. Importantly,
contrary to this dominant narrative, alliances and cooperation across Nuer-Dinka
ethnic lines have continued in some rural areas.178 Ethnic identity remains uid and
contextual among many Dinka and Nuer communities, with members tending to
saferworld 37
179 Ibid. Hutchinson, S E, ‘Nuer Ethnicity Militarized’.
180 Johnson, ‘Tribal Boundaries and Border Wars’. Interviews with Nyareweng Dinka youth, Poktap, Duk, March 2013 (Breidlid,
Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
181 Interviews with Nyareweng Dinka youth, Duk, April 2014; Interviews with Lou Nuer youth, Matar, March 2014 (Breidlid,
Youth, Identities and State-Society Relations).
182 Johnson C, Thomas E, Mozersky D, Marekia N (2016), ‘Developing Strategic Responses to Displacement in South Sudan’
(Nairobi: Center for Humanitarian Dialogue).
183 The ‘third bloc’ is used to describe seven South Sudanese politicians who were initially detained at the outset of the fighting.
They were later released and did not ally with the government or SPLA-IO.
184 Breidlid, Arensen, ‘Anyone who can carry a gun can go’.
185 Three different disarmament campaigns were carried out in Jonglei State in the eight years between the CPA in 2005 and
the civil war in 2013 (2006, 2008 and 2012), yet security continued to degrade during this period. This is commonly blamed
on the Murle, who were believed to be excluded from the disarmament processes (Young, Popular Struggles and Elite
Co-optation). However, the Murle were actually included in all three disarmaments. Like other cattle camp youth in Jonglei
Murle respondents explained they were often sold back their disarmed weapons by the SPLA in exchange for cattle or
bought new ones on the black market. Arensen, ‘Murle Age-sets’ AECOM, 2012. (unpublished).
186 Amnesty International (2012), ‘South Sudan: Lethal Disarmament. Abuses related to civilian disarmament in Pibor County,
Jonglei State’ (London: Amnesty International); O’Brien A (2009), ‘Shots in the Dark: The 2008 South Sudan Civilian
Disarmament Campaign’ (Geneva: Small Arms Survey); Arnold M B, Alden C (2007), ‘“This Gun is our Food”: Demilitarising
the White Army Militias of South Sudan’, (Oslo: NUPI).
identify more strongly with their kinship groups or tribal sections than with their
ethnic group.179 e Lou Nuer and Nyareweng Dinka have especially close kinship
and social ties due to a long history of intermarriage and assimilation, including
military and socio-economic cooperation.180 At the beginning of the present civil war,
representatives from Lou Nuer communities in Uror and from Nyareweng Dinka in
Duk county, Jonglei State, claimed youth ghters from the other community did not
directly target their civilians while the Lou Nuer White Army marched through their
territory on their way to Bor.181 A recent study found that the Lou Nuer had requested
and been granted access to Dinka Nyaraweng pastures in November 2015, and in 2016
were reliant on the cattle markets in Duk despite the greater conict.182
Meanwhile, political alliances during the previous and present civil wars were never
purely along ethnic lines: Dinka leaders defected to the SPLA-IO or the ‘third bloc,
while some Nuer leaders remained with the government.183 Some Nuer sections also
fought on behalf of the government against SPLA-IO and Nuer civilians, the most
well-known being sections of the Bul Nuer sub-ethnic group in Unity State. As noted,
most civilian ghters have little interest in the political agendas of the national elites,
many whom are primarily interested in personal gain. As in the past the ‘Nuer-Dinka
narrative’ is an ecient tool to mobilise communities, while at the same time disguise
local grievances civilians on both sides have over failures of governance, development,
security and high levels of corruption.184
Underlying the continued strength and relevance of the White Armies in the Greater
Upper Nile region is the prevailing government security vacuum. Even during times
of peace, formal government institutions have been unable to provide adequately for
civilian security, particularly in rural areas. Government policy towards the White
Armies has instead been marked by an inconsistent mix of support and repression in
response to changing political and military interests.
Attempts in the past to manage the Nuer White Armies have primarily focused on
disarmament campaigns, which have caused more harm than good. e widespread
ownership of arms is a major issue, but as long as the government is unable, or unwilling,
to provide security and justice in rural areas, disarmament alone is not a sustainable
solution.185 Abuses carried out during civilian disarmament campaigns, such as the
2006 disarmament of the Lou Nuer White Army, further increased local grievances
and reduced trust in government institutions. e corruption found in the reselling
of conscated weapons by the SPLA, along with widespread insecurity and porous
international/regional borders, prompted Lou Nuer youth to almost immediately
rearm to ensure local security and protect their communities against external threats.
186
Disarmament and
integration
vi. A more
effective approach
to peace and
security in Greater
Upper Nile
38 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
187 Sudan Tribune (2013), ‘Community policing will boost security in Jonglei, says new police boss’, 26 February
(www.sudantribune.com/spip.php?article45664).
188 Fleischner J (2014), ‘Protective Measures: Local security arrangements in Greater Upper Nile’, HSBA Issue Brief, July
(Geneva: Small Arms Survey).
189 Ibid.
190 Ibid.
191 Public rally with the Jonglei state authorities, Yuai, February 2013; Meeting with Commissioner of Uror, March 2013.
192 Deutche Welle (2013), ‘UN worries over South Sudan’s Jonglei clashes’, 15 July (www.dw.com/en/un-worries-over-south-
sudans-jonglei-clashes/a-16951755).
As noted above, in the post-CPA period as well as in the recent conict, SPLA and
SPLA-IOs integration of White Armies members and leaders into their military
command structures has been used as means of enhancing control and countering
the independence of the White Armies. However, until public trust and condence in
government justice and security apparatus is enhanced, these leaders will continue to
be replaced with new White Army leaders. erefore, much like in the past, disarma-
ment campaigns and the integration of armed youth into conventional security forces
will only lead to the replacement of arms and leaders, and not end the role of the White
Armies in Nuer society.
In January 2013 government orders to establish ‘community police’ throughout Jonglei
reinforced perceptions among communities that local security was primarily delegated
to traditional community defence structures.187 Prior to the creation of these units, the
kuaar burnam for Uror had already initiated youth patrols along the border with Pibor
to reduce cattle raids, while the community had donated food and supplies to help.
In theory the establishment of ‘community police units’ was a means of creating
community ownership over local security. It could also help harness the role of existing
youth structures to mitigate negative practices, such as major revenge attacks. In 2013
the unit was also meant to register the lawful ownership of weapons, and therefore
help future disarmament campaigns.188 If implemented correctly this type of engage-
ment could have acted as a temporary solution for the prevailing security gap in many
parts of the country, and successful examples, such as Kuron, Eastern Equatoria, do
exist. However, the Jonglei community police programme in 2013 faced predictable
challenges over accountability, politicisation and budgetary limitations.
Following the creation of community police units, challenges regarding budgets,
training and monitoring quickly arose.189 ere was no government budget for training
or monitoring by the professional police, while the new taxes proposed by the govern-
ment to cover the costs were deemed too high by the communities.190 Not surprisingly,
by the end of 2013 when the war broke out weapons had been distributed to some units,
but the planned training, uniforms and code of conduct had still yet to be implemented.
Meanwhile, the distributed weapons were not fully registered or monitored by the
South Sudanese Police Service.
In the eyes of many observers the programme quickly became politicised and acted
primarily as a means of rearming certain communities aer the 2012 disarmament.
Indeed the order to create the community police units in Jonglei in January 2013 meant
that Jonglei youth, with the exception of the Murle, were able to rearm and openly carry
weapons.191 In consequence, the Lou Nuer White Army was able to carry out a major
revenge attack on the Murle in July 2013.192 Not surprisingly the Murle community
perceived the initiative as a means for the government to arm their rivals and use their
historical grievances to support a failing SPLA counter-insurgency against the Murle
rebel David Yau Yau. While local security initiatives could have an important role to
play in addressing security gaps in South Sudan if done well, accountability and
independence from political interests are necessary for successful implementation.
Past eorts to engage with local community defence groups in South Sudan, and
descriptions of the White Armies as a ‘wildcard’ by the international community,
Jonglei Community
Police Units 2013
Future policy
directions
saferworld 39
193 BBC (2013), ‘South Sudan: UN concerned by “wildcard” White Army’, 29 December (www.bbc.com/news/world-
africa-25543061).
194 In the case of the Jikany Nuer and Lou Nuer agreement in 2010 the respective kuaar burnam from Ulang and Akobo held the
initial meetings before the chiefs got involved. Jikany (Nasir) and Lou (Akobo) kuaar burnam also met in 2013 to finalise the
agreement.
195 Also see Young J (2016), ‘Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan’s Civil War’, p 56.
reveals a lack of proper understanding of their history, evolution, function and
motivations.193 To curb the worst of their behaviour and harness the legitimacy they
wield within their communities, security and peace actors in South Sudan need to
recognise the White Armies complex history and signicant role in Nuer society.
Involving the White Armies in peace processes and local security arrangements is
vital in ensuring durable solutions.
Although the White Armies have become increasingly militarised in the past few
decades, their leaders (kuaar burnam) continue to play important peacemaking and
conict resolution roles within their communities. In close collaboration with customary
authorities and traditional spiritual leaders, White Army leaders mitigate blood feuds
between families and sections and are frequently involved in arresting perpetrators
and returning looted cattle. Kuaar burnam are also responsible for negotiating annual
dry season grazing rights with other Nuer communities and ethnic groups, and have
been involved in locally organised inter-communal peace negotiations (for example,
Jikany Nuer-Lou Nuer 2010 and Lou Nuer-Murle 2014).194
Rural communities, who are both the primary victims as well as major perpetrators
of violence, are largely excluded from national peace processes and dividends. Despite
their important peace and security role at the local level, the international community
has failed to recognise and adequately engage with community defence structures
such as the White Armies. White Army leaders are rarely given prominent roles in
regional and national peace processes and are, at best brought in as token representa-
tives of cattle camp youth. Instead educated youth representatives and politicians are
prioritised, which deprives the cattle camp youth directly involved in these conicts
of representation and a sense of ownership over agreements and their implementation.
e exclusion of White Army ghters from the Addis Ababa peace process and from
the terms of the August 2015 peace agreement has augmented local frustration towards
elites.195 To ensure the sustainability of negotiated peace agreements, local leaders
responsible for community protection and security need to be included in the process.
e mass mobilisations of Nuer civilians in the Greater Upper Nile region at the onset
of the ongoing conict illustrated the complete breakdown of trust in government,
particularly its ability and willingness to provide security, protection and justice for all
citizens. Ethnic rhetoric masks the grievances many civilians hold towards the govern-
ment and political elites. e recent return of violence in Juba in July 2016, including
reported targeting of Nuer civilians, has further decreased condence among Nuer
civilians in the implementation of the August 2015 peace agreement. e White Armies
are likely to mobilise again unless immediate and concrete improvements in terms of
security and protection are undertaken.
e involvement of the Nuer White Armies in inter-communal clashes and political
violence has made them perhaps the most notorious community defence group in
South Sudan. However, their security function and motivations are remarkably similar
to community defence groups across the country: they work to ll the prevailing
vacuum in security and justice provision in rural areas. Until the government is able
to ensure security and create condence in a functional justice system, community
defence groups such as the White Armies will continue to play a major role in South
Sudans security landscape in the future. A durable solution to the conict will need
to address local grievances through a reconciliation process and hybrid court, include
vii. Conclusion
40 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
local defence structures in security sector reform, and re-build relations and trust
between the state and society. An inclusive process is necessary to ensure widespread
ownership and support for any agreement and create accountability for the elites.
e people of South Sudan have faced incredible hardships and suering and it is
imperative that their voices are heard and their grievances are addressed. e success
of the peace agreement depends on it.
5
Conclusion:
Community defence groups and the future of
security in South Sudan
Jok Madut Jok
th is publication provides perspectives on why violence has persisted in
South Sudan despite the 2005 and 2015 peace agreements and in times when South
Sudan was expected to enjoy stability. e preceding chapters present views on the
origins of some of this violence, outlining how community defence groups have
mobilised over the past 30 years (and earlier) to respond to insecurity in the absence
of state protection. As such, they capture a persistent security conundrum from the
bottom up, providing a micro perspective on human security oen buried in grand
narratives that treat South Sudan’s security challenges as national issues only.
at conundrum is rooted in the tension that has emerged between security provision
and the consolidation of the state. On the one hand, the state has proven incapable
and oen unwilling to protect its citizens and monopolise the legitimate use of force,
so communities have moved to secure themselves, by encouraging or arming their
youth. On the other hand, the state has generally interpreted these local security
responses as having a corrosive eect on its authority and sought to dismantle them.
But it is unable to rein them in without creating a sort of war between state and
community. To accommodate them, meanwhile, is to further undermine the rule of law,
as perpetrators of violence are never brought to justice. One of the common tools the
government has used is to issue amnesties for some armed groups or their leaders in
exchange for peace. is has fed into the dynamics of conict, encouraging individuals
and groups to use violence to secure positions in the national army.
No consensus exists among the politico-military elite about how to approach these
armed groups. National leaders might see the dangers of parallel defence mechanisms
but maintain a sneaking suspicion that militias might be needed should security
decline in their own regions, especially given that state security agencies are oen
slow to react or incapable of confronting the sources of insecurity eectively. is has
undermined the evolution of a professional military culture, as politicians look to
informal forces as personal armies. is came to the fore from late 2013, as communal
defence forces drew behind competing national leaders or vied for their support.
e groups raise two questions for those engaged in security and security reform
in South Sudan over coming months and years: 1) have the security threats that
42 informal armies: community defence groups in south sudans civil war
necessitated the creation of these armed groups dissipated, such that dismantling these
groups can be done concurrently among competing ethnic nationalities and will not
leave some communities exposed to attacks by other, similarly armed groups? and 2)
does the government now view them more as a threat to public safety than a necessary
informal extension of the state’s security apparatus? e chapters presented here have
attempted to answer these questions.
What is presented in this publication is a description of a crumbling security system,
the pressures that force communities to arm themselves and the consequences of this
mix of factors for human security and the viability of the South Sudanese state as the
entity with the chief responsibility to protect citizens.
Of the various non-state armed groups in South Sudan, some of which are described
here, two of them – the White Armies and successor groups to the arrow boys – are the
most likely to rise to a level where they directly challenge state authority. is is due,
particularly, to the ability of politicians from those regions to appropriate local forces
to leverage power at the national level. e titweng and gelweng, meanwhile, have been
drivers of insecurity in various places in Bahr el Ghazal and worked in support of
government forces elsewhere. In this too they operate as a security threat to people
on the margins of the state and to the country as a whole, undermining prospects for
national social cohesion. In the ongoing civil war, increasing numbers of citizens are
unable to count on the government for their protection, reducing condence in the
state as the latter retreats further from rural communities. With the increasing absence
of government from people’s lives, the armed groups ll the gap but do so in ways that
mean no one can restrain them when their ability to protect also becomes a capacity
for harm.
As Nigeria’s Civilian Joint Task Force, which was lauded for helping stop Boko Haram
abuses, turned abusive in its own actions, and as communities in Somalia, Yemen,
Afghanistan and others set up self-protection militias that have turned out to be ruthless
within their communities, the creation of vigilante-style community protection forces
has proven a questionable security measure. It challenges the notion that protecting
civilians, whether from other civilians or against an external force, is the ultimate
responsibility of the state. And it is the lack of trust in the ability of the state to do its
duty that leads to the creation of local protection forces. Changing these dynamics –
and addressing the conundrum community defence groups raise – requires signicant,
long-term investment in reform and development of the security sector, to strengthen
the state’s monopoly on the use of force, its capacity to provide equitable protection to
all citizens and its role as a source of security. Until the country’s security forces can be
trusted by citizens, communities will continue to arm themselves.
Looking to the future, even as the government manages to broker agreements with
South Sudans various opposition forces, agreements are unlikely to deliver improve-
ments in the states ability to deliver security and protect civilians. Unaddressed, the
weakness and instability of the army will continue to drive community mobilisation,
as it has done for many years. To the extent that the international community can assist
with security sector reforms, national level security arrangements will always falter
under the weight of local security dynamics and needs. Important aspects of a more
eective security sector reform strategy will be the down-sizing of the national army,
investment of resource savings from such reduction in better training and equipment,
and quick deployment of a multi-ethnic police force in hotspots throughout the
country, especially along cattle migration corridors and trading routes.
Saferworld is an independent international organisation working to prevent
violent conflict and build safer lives. We work with local people affected by
conflict to improve their safety and sense of security, and conduct wider research
and analysis. We use this evidence and learning to improve local, national and
international policies and practices that can help build lasting peace. Our priority
is people – we believe in a world where everyone can lead peaceful, fulfilling lives,
free from fear and insecurity.
We are a not-for-profit organisation with programmes in nearly 20 countries and
territories across Africa, the Middle East, Asia and Europe.
cover photo: A young man guards the herd at Lakatoc cattle camp, Tonj North. Boys look after
the cattle at the camps while young men, often armed to protect themselves and their cattle,
move the cattle to graze during the day. Conflict increases during the dry season as cattle keepers
are forced to move in search of grassland and water sources, creating risks of confrontation with
other communities. © mar cus perkins
uk off ic e
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... Where in the first years after the arrival of the LRA in the border area it created a space for solidarity and connection (Waanzi 2021), the local responses to the LRA threat and violence differed significantly and ultimately relations turned sour again. In South Sudan, the Zande tradition of hunting and warriorship led to the creation of the "Arrow Boys" as a local vigilante group with the intention to keep the people safe (Schomerus and Taban 2017). In Obo, a few young men tried to rep-licate this example for a while, but at that time it never became something of importance. ...
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Soon after South Sudan achieved independence in 2011, its political landscape grew increasingly volatile. It became almost impossible for international and regional actors to address one crisis before another more serious one erupted. This article combines cultural, political, economic and social factors into a comprehensive framework to explain the role of the political elites in transforming fear and politicized anger into violent and deadly conflicts. The theoretical framework of the security dilemma model is applied to the South Sudanese conflict to demonstrate how it was triggered-and continued to be exacerbated-by the politics of fear. © The Author(s) 2018. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of Royal African Society. All rights reserved.
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The continued presence of ‘other armed groups’ poses a significant challenge to furthering peace and stability in post-conflict environments. A good example of this was ‘White Army’ militias, which maintained an armed presence after the signing of Sudan's Comprehensive Peace Agreement in 2005. This article presents an empirical mapping of the White Army militias as well as a detailed analysis of the disarmament strategies that were implemented for them during the course of 2006. The article concludes with an analysis of the successes in achieving disarmament of White Army militias as well as the continuing challenges faced by Sudanese authorities and the international community alike in building sustainable conditions for peace.
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The economic value, social status and symbolic meaning of small arms are particular and temporal in nature. This is demonstra ted through a historical account of the dynamics of cultural change and adaptation in Nuer society. Specifically, the article shows how attitudes towards small arms shif ted over time from a positive valuation of guns as prestigious objects, to ambivalence between the need for protection and the experience of increased local lawlessness and violence. More generally, it demonstrates how weapon-rela ted activities can only be fully understood when seen against a specific cultural background. Even if the display, use and circulation of weapons appear to carry cross-cultural references, typically as expressions of power and masculine identity, the meaning is always primarily local. Therefore, strategies to reduce the destructive impact of small arms through demand side programs, based on voluntary participation, can only be carried out successfully if built on an in-depth understanding of a particular cultural context.
Human Security Baseline Assessment for Sudan and South Sudan/Small Arms Survey)REMNASA: Why Revolutionary Movement for National Salvation was formed
Small Amrs Survey (2016), Conflict in Western Equatoria (Geneva: Human Security Baseline Assessment for Sudan and South Sudan/Small Arms Survey), July. 36 https://www.remnasa.com/home.html 37 REMNASA (2015), 'REMNASA: Why Revolutionary Movement for National Salvation was formed', 2 February.
Sudanese army comes under another attack in Western EquatoriaProtection and militarisation in Western Equatoria
Tribune (2015), 'S. Sudanese army comes under another attack in Western Equatoria', 25 May; Schomerus M (2015), 'Protection and militarisation in Western Equatoria', USAID/VISTAS.
Recent armed groups in WES are not Arrow Boys', Sudan Tribune Author interview, local government official
  • R Mohandis
Mohandis R (2016), 'Recent armed groups in WES are not Arrow Boys', Sudan Tribune, 7 January. 40 Author interview, local government official, Yambio, July 2016. 41 International Crisis Group (2016), South Sudan's South: Conflict in the Equatorias (Brussels: ICG).
The prophet did not move with the youth to Pibor, but communicated with youth leaders via satellite phone
  • Ibid
Ibid. The prophet did not move with the youth to Pibor, but communicated with youth leaders via satellite phone.
Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan's Civil War'; Thomas, South Sudan Slow LiberationThe Changing Meaning of Small Arms in Nuer Society
132 Young, 'The White Army'; Young, 'Popular Struggles and Elite Co-optation: The Nuer White Army in South Sudan's Civil War'; Thomas, South Sudan Slow Liberation; Skedsmo A (2003), 'The Changing Meaning of Small Arms in Nuer Society', African Security Studies Review, 12 (4) pp 57–68.
Civilian Devastation: Abuses by All Parties in the War in Southern Sudan
Human Rights Watch Africa (1994), Civilian Devastation: Abuses by All Parties in the War in Southern Sudan (New York: Human Rights Watch);