By Ajak Deng Chiengkou
Risk of Imported Conflicts and Lessons from Lebanon, Jordan and Syria
South Sudan must think beyond the concerns of today. We must ask ourselves what the decisions made now will mean in 75 years. A nation that thinks in decades survives. A nation that pursues quick deals risks shattering itself on the rocks.
History offers powerful lessons. The Balfour Declaration of 1917 seemed like a minor suggestion, yet it reshaped the Middle East for more than a century. It served immediate interests but ignored the realities of land, identity and displacement. Its consequences remain unresolved. South Sudan must not become another testing ground for mistakes that outlive their makers.
Recent reports, including those in Israeli newspapers, suggest contacts between South Sudanese officials and foreign actors. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs dismissed the matter with a short statement, offering no explanation. That is not enough. Agreements capable of binding our nation to distant conflicts must be openly explained, legally examined and subjected to parliamentary and public scrutiny.
South Sudan is not SPLM, SPLM-IO, or any other faction. South Sudan is a land and a people, rooted in ancestry far older than our modern institutions. If God gave us a gift, it is the soil itself and everything it contains. Leaders come and go, but the land remains. Protecting it is not only the duty of politicians but of citizens who understand what is at stake.
Some argue that South Sudan “needs Israel” as insurance against a future war with Sudan. That reasoning is flawed. We are not at war with Sudan. We host our northern brothers without fear, because our relationship rests on shared history and kinship, not hostility. Ours is the longest border in the region, and it will only be secured through cooperation and coexistence.
Now, imagine a scenario raised in recent debates. If 3,000 Palestinians were relocated to South Sudan as refugees, their displacement would almost certainly be permanent. Unlike South Sudanese in Australia, Canada, or the United States who can return to ancestral villages when they can afford it, Palestinians have no right of return.
The risk is not the people themselves, who are victims of oppression, but the political machinery that surrounds them. Camps can become politicised, monitored, and restricted. In that process, South Sudan could be branded a “security hotspot” and subjected to foreign interference.
The experiences of Lebanon, Jordan and Syria are clear warnings. In Lebanon, camps such as Sabra and Shatila became militarised, drawn into civil war, and ultimately became sites of massacre. In Jordan, the events of Black September in 1970 nearly toppled the monarchy as Palestinian militias clashed with the state.
In Syria, Palestinians lived in camps like Yarmouk, denied rights, and later trapped in the civil war, where the camp itself was destroyed. These examples show that refugee resettlement, when not carefully managed, deepens instability and leaves host nations with problems that last for generations.
South Sudanese must not be naïve. To accept permanent relocation under political arrangements would be to import the unresolved conflict of 1948 into our fragile state. If South Sudan wishes to help, it should do so through transparent, lawful migration on an individual basis, under clear rules.
People who come as expatriates or residents can live with dignity and contribute openly. No one will object to South Sudan maintaining bilateral relations with Israel or any other nation. But secrecy and shortcuts invite disaster.
Patriotism is not silence. True loyalty requires scrutiny. Citizens have the right to know what their leaders are doing and to understand the risks before they become realities.
South Sudan is still young, fragile and healing from decades of war. We cannot afford to gamble with our future for quick money or foreign promises. In cattle camps, wisdom is simple. Guard the kraal, guard the calves, guard the pasture. In statecraft, the wisdom is the same. Guard the soil, guard the people, guard the future.
History is unforgiving. Mistakes made in haste outlive their makers. They take generations to undo. We must not allow our grandchildren’s names to be added to a problem that is not theirs.
Ajak Deng Chiengkou is a South Sudanese journalist and commentator. He regularly contributes to debates on state building, accountability, and the future of South Sudan.
