Which source of conflict results when geographical boundaries or lines of authority are unclear?

ABSTRACT

South Sudan’s administrative boundaries stem from the colonial period. Since it gained independence in 2011, subsequent rounds of reshuffling of the political system, internal borders, and power relations have been a source of confusion, elite manipulation, and conflict throughout the country. This paper explores the impact of this confusion by focusing on multiple shifting linkages between administrative boundaries and identities and shows how the mobilization of ethnic identities has become central to territorial claims and creating territorial borders. We use three local conflicts in Central Equatoria State to illustrate how claims of belonging and entitlement are being used by elites for economic, political, and socio-cultural gains. The three cases also show how such manipulation increases the likelihood of ethnic division and conflict. Following the decision by the government in 2015 to increase the number of states from 10 to 28 in October 2015, further manipulation of borders and identities is likely to occur and could result in more violence, ethnic-based conflict, and human suffering.

In October 2015 the South Sudanese president, Salva Kiir, announced the annulation of the 10 states that had existed since 1992 and decreed the creation of 28 new ones1—a decision that received a mixed reception in various parts of the country.2 However, changes to the administrative structures in South Sudan, and opposition to those changes, are not new: before Sudanese independence in 1956, southern elites lobbied for a federal system as an acceptable alternative to southern independence, which northern political elites rejected (e.g. Johnson 2014). Contrary to the historical plea for federalism, the call for federalism and the further division of the country into 28 states has created tensions within South Sudan between different levels of the government and the political elites (De Vries and Justin 2014; Schomerus and Aalen 2016). With his decision, Kiir superficially responded to some of his critics’ demands without addressing most of the fundamental governance issues that fueled political contestation and the continued demand for federalism in the country. This paper illustrates how confusion over levels of authority and the absence of clear boundaries between administrative units have contributed to tensions between communities, which risk escalating into conflicts along ethnic lines.

This article draws on extensive socio-anthropological fieldwork that was carried out in Central Equatoria State (CES) during three visits (November 2011–June 2012, September 2012–April 2013, and January–February 2015) and analyses literature and historical documents to understand the linkages between local government, internal borders, and conflicts. Studying internal boundary conflicts in CES is of methodological and theoretical relevance for two reasons. First, most writings on peace and conflict in South Sudan tend to give little attention to the relationship between territories and internal borders, which, we argue, is crucial to understanding the increasing levels of “ethnic conflict.” Second, CES was relatively peaceful compared to the others states in the country, which thus offers additional insights into the relationship between political manipulation and violent manipulation. Via three case studies, we demonstrate how ethnic identity or sense of belonging is used by elites as a strategy to make claims on political, economic and socio-cultural aspects of land. This paper is structured as follows: the first section gives some insights into colonial intervention in Africa and shows how this has resulted in linking identity to territories. The second section gives an overview of the historical development of internal borders in South Sudan and contextualizes this to Central Equatoria State. The third section examines the three cases and discusses how socio-cultural, political, and economic interests are stirring up conflicts over internal boundaries in the state. The fourth section concludes.

The Organization of the African Unity (OAU), established in 1963 adopted the uti possidetis principle, which demanded that newly independent states “respect” their colonial borders (Touval 1966, 643). Although South Sudan’s independence may seem to diverge from this principle, the new international border between Sudan and South Sudan is in fact based on borders created by the British colonial authorities. In this specific case both countries recognize the 1 January 1956 Administrative Border as the reference for the internatonal border; South Sudan acknowledges this in its constitution. Within South Sudan, the borders from 1 January 1956 are also used as the reference for internal borders between states and between territories that constitute local government structures (see Figure 1).

The uti possidetis principle assumes that boundaries between African states were clearly defined and demarcated at independence; however, this is not the case and many borders remain disputed (e.g. Asiwaju 2012; AUBP User Guide 2014, 15). The Sudan–South Sudan border is not an exception, as evidenced by the ongoing disputes over the border town of Abyei (Craze 2013). According to Andrew Natsios (2015, 419), former US special envoy to Sudan, “the exact demarcation of what is now heavily militarized border had not been agreed on by the two countries and will continue to be a source of considerable tension” (see also Schomerus, de Vries, and Vaughan 2013; Copnall 2014, 221–3). Higlig (known as Panthou in South Sudan), another disupted border town, became the cause of military confrontations between the two countries in 2012 (Johnson 2012).

Border contestation in Sudan and South Sudan can be traced back to the pre-independence period, which points to an important aspect of the colonial heritage of African boundaries that is much less studied: most postcolonial governments not only inherited the international borders imposed on them, but also the internal boundaries (e.g. Hamid 2002). As a result, the link between identity and territories is fundamental in determining how landownership claims are made and land access regulated. In turn, this determines how borders between communities are negotiated (Berry 2013; Lund and Boone 2013). As discussed below, borders are a source of an increasing number of conflicts. But to what extent are those conflicts related to the question of landownership or internal borders? What has caused this increase in conflicts, and why at this particular moment? Importantly, what is the relationship between local conflicts and national politics, and how are these related to the issue of land? Lastly, and this has become all the more pertinent after the administrative reshuffle, what impact could these changes have on the establishment of local government in South Sudan? As our three cases will show, the legacies of those boundaries continue to play a major role in shaping everyday manifestations of power and authority. Perhaps the most striking of those legacies in South Sudan is the strong correlation between identity and territory, which has become instrumental in defining relations between the state and the society, on the one hand, and between communities, on the other.

Prior to colonial intervention, many African societies were characterized by a great deal of mobility. Boundaries were never fixed and shifted between overlapping networks and communities. Communities were based on proximity, kinship, or common loyalty to a king (e.g. Lentz 2000, 107). Territorial borders were defined through alliances between leaders and could change according to changes in those relations or through wars and conquests. With extremely low population densities, power and authority were organized and legitimized around people rather than territories. As a result, leaders were to some extent accountable towards their subjects because people could simply decide to move elsewhere (Englebert 2009, 226). Colonial intervention radically changed most of those dynamics. Borders became fixed lines with administrative powers attached to it. As Herbst (2000, 231) notes, boundary became the mechanism in “determining who is a citizen and who not,” giving meaning to “the cadastral boundary lines originally created by the Europeans.” The internal borders created by colonial administration laid the foundations for the establishment of provinces and districts. However, many of these internal boundaries are as undefined and unmarked as some of the international borders. Cormack (2016) refers to such borders as galaxies that materialize in a constellation of “points” such as trees, streams and hills, which may well have different meanings to different people. Nonetheless, by attaching political power to territorial boundaries, the creation of those territories went hand-in-hand with strengthening or “constructing” ethnic identities.

There is a consensus among scholars that the colonial intervention in sub-Sahara Africa resulted in the creation of territories inhabited along ethnic lines (e.g. Lentz 2000; Leonardi and Santschi 2016; Mamdani 1996). More contested, however, is whether colonial intervention contributed to the “construction” and “invention” of ethnic identities (Lentz and Nugent 2000). Contrary to the pre-colonial structure of leadership, which depended on a set of “traditional leaders,” the colonial approach was to select an individual chief from the majority group in a new territory or from those claiming to be autochthonous to the area (e.g. Mamdani 2001, 655). This forced groups to abide by the powers of autochthones or majority groups—who in many cases were strangers (Lentz 2013; Leonardi 2013). Over time, those policies contributed to the reinforcement of ethnicity or even the “construction” of “new identities” in many countries in Africa, which indeed became strongly linked to the territories inhabited. As we will show in the case of South Sudan, the increased connection between identity and territories provided elites with tools of manipulation with which to consolidate territorial claims.

The establishment of new states and counties along identity lines (autochthonous groups or majority groups) is a typical South Sudanese governance strategy. In combination with increased interest in political, economical, and land resources following the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), this approach facilitates the manipulation of identities. But how does such manipulation relate to internal borders, and on what basis are local government units in South Sudan established? The Turco-Egyptian authorities created the Sudanese state in the early 19th century by amalgamating different kingdoms, sultanates, and “tribal” communities (see e.g. O’Fahey and Spaulding 1974). Later, the British colonial authorities further restructured the territory to suit their interests, establishing provinces that were each divided into local government districts. When it gained independence in 1956, Sudan was divided into eight provinces—three of which (Upper Nile, Bahr El Ghazal, and Equatoria) are in present-day South Sudan. These three provinces were divided into 21 districts (Hamid 2002).

As part of its indirect rule strategy, inter alia, the British colonial authorities often forcefully relocated communities to new locations.3 In Equatoria province resettlement had the aim of eradicating sleeping sickness (e.g. Bloss 1960). This resettlement was followed by the appointment of chiefs and the establishment of borders delineating the jurisdictions of the newly appointed chiefs.4 Borders between chieftainships were often arbitrarily created and frequently marked by landmarks such as rivers, mountains, or big trees; though in most cases they were marked by the main roads, leaving parts of those territories without borders.5 After gaining independence, Sudan generally maintained the territorial administration developed by the colonial authorities. Occasionally, however, governments renamed these provinces and districts; altered the administrative status of those units, or redrew borders (see Hamid 2002, 2).

In 1992 the Sudanese government replaced the eight provinces with 26 states—16 in the north and 10 in the south (e.g. Hamid 2002, 4). In the parts of the country under its control, the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM) established a three-level local government structure, which consists of counties, payams, and bomas two years later (e.g. Leonardi 2013). Importantly, both the government and the SPLM used the territorial divisions implemented by the colonial authorities, either by merging colonial districts to create states or by including chieftaincies in the local government structure in the SPLM’s “liberated” areas. Reflecting colonial practices, ethnicity became a prominent aspect of the restructuring of these units, at least in South Sudan. When the interim period (2005–2011) began, the government of Southern Sudan (GoSS) inherited 10 of the 26 states created by Khartoum in 1992, which it combined with the governance structures implemented by the SPLM in 1994. At independence in 2011, the South Sudan Transitional Constitution formally recognized the existing ten-state structure, which consisted of 86 counties divided into payams and bomas. The presidential decree to increase the number of states to 28 has not yet been enshrined in the country’s constitution. Administrating the 86 counties and the unclear boundaries between them was one of the biggest challenges the government faced during the interim period, especially because this period marked a sharp rise in investor interest in land acquisitions. Consequently, the increased value of land exacerbated conflicts throughout the territory (Deng 2011).

Although current conflicts over land, administration, and political power are the result of contemporary circumstances, some find their roots in the Sudan’s colonial history. First of all, a number of communities in the settlements created by the colonial authorities continue to claim ownership of the land they were relocated from. At the same time, these communities are attempting to consolidate their grip on their “new land.” This often results in contested landownership claims based on indigeneity, majority status, or forced resettlement, inter alia (e.g. Justin and van Leeuwen 2016). Secondly, the lack of clearly marked borders between chieftaincies that were upgraded to local government territories has triggered border disputes. Lastly, and importantly, the rationale behind the establishment of the county–payam–boma administrative system is unclear, which has resulted in different interpretations of how it should be implemented. Some contend that boundaries between these units should be established along ethnic lines and that autochthony should be the basis of ownership claims in those territories; however, others argue that majority group status ought to be the basis of such claims.6 Within the “the land belongs to the community” normative framework (e.g. Badiey 2014; Hirblinger 2015), defining what constitutes a community became a source of conflict between local communities, which often had the support of their political elites. The apparent lack of institutional capacity to mitigate or resolve conflicts throughout the country means that conflicts arising from such disputes can take violent turns, sometimes along ethnic lines (e.g. Schomerus, Walmsley, and Lebrun 2008). Changes to the administrative and political systems within these territories also have an impact on the local power balance and contribute to increased tensions and violence (e.g. Pendle 2014; Schomerus and de Vries 2014).

The ongoing civil war in South Sudan started in December 2013 as the result of a power struggle between President Salva Kiir and the former vice president, Riek Macher. This violence quickly took hold in the three states of Greater Upper Nile (Unity, Upper Nile, and Jonglei) and sporadically in some parts of Greater Bahr el Ghazal. As the war continued, parts of Greater Equatoria also became sucked into the conflict and started to witness local rebellions or attacks by groups allied to the SPLM-In Opposition (SPLM-IO) (De Vries and Justin 2014).7 Especially since the establishment of the 28 states (see Figure 2), conflicts have flared up in what used to be Central Equatoria and Western Equatoria States (ICG 2016). Historically, Central Equatoria State comprised the Yei and Juba Districts, which were established by the colonial authorities. After the CPA, what used to be Yei River District was divided into the four counties of Morobo, Yei, Kajokeji, and Lainya, while Juba was split into the two counties of Juba and Terekeka (TCCES 2011). As a result of the presidential decree, Central Equatoria State was redivided into the three states of Terkeka, Juba (renamed Jubek), and Yei River State.8 Once again, Sudan’s colonial legacy had an impact: the new states reflected “majority” ethnic groups or those considered autochthonous to those areas.9

The tendency to establish local government units on the basis of ethnicity began during the interim period, though mainly at the local government level. For instance, when selecting executive power holders—particularly commissioners—from localities, attempts to appoint “outsiders” were often opposed by local elites. In 2012, for example, the governor of Central Equatoria State appointed a commissioner to Lainya County who came from neighboring Terekeka County. The appointment generated lots of resistance because the appointee was not “native” to Lainya.10 A year earlier, the same governor appointed a commissioner to Yei River County from the Adiyo community, a minority group in the county. That appointment also drew criticism, with local leaders and chiefs pointing out that the appointee was not from the Kakwa majority group.11 In the absence of local elections, the state governor succeeded in pushing through the two appointments; however, relations between the commissioners and their respective constituencies were tense.12

To further illustrate the complexities of identity, autochthony status, and majority status in relation to political and economic interests, we now discuss three cases in Central Equatoria State: an ownership claim in the payam of Mangalla in Terkeka County, the disputed geopolitical status of Wonduruba payam in Lainya County, and a border dispute between Yei and Lainya Counties.

Mangalla is a payam in Terkeka County. It borders Juba County to the south and is located some 70 kilometers north of Juba town along the White Nile. Although the Mundari are the majority ethnic group in Terkeka County, they are the minority in Mangalla. The Bari, on the other hand, are the majority in Mangalla as well as in Juba County. According to local narratives, the Bari were the first settlers in this area, but had always coexisted peacefully alongside the Mundari,13 even after the division of Juba District into Juba and Terekeka Counties in 2005. The question of landownership had never been an issue between the two communities. In 2009, however, investors began to express an interest in leasing land in the payam. This resulted in the issues of landownership and the Juba County–Terkeka County border becoming a point of strong contention between the Bari and Mundari communities. Indeed, and as Deng (2011) notes, the interim period saw an unprecedented rush by both foreign and domestic investors to acquire large tracts of land in many rural areas in South Sudan, which brought the question of landownership and administrative borders in many rural areas to the forefront. The conflict in Mangalla is thus one of the many examples not only throughout the country but also in Central Equatoria State.

In 2007, for example, the Madhvani Group, an Indian-owned Ugandan conglomerate, expressed its desire to lease a piece of land in Mangalla for agricultural and industrial purposes. It eventually signed two memoranda of understanding with the government of South Sudan: the first for a land lease and the second to build a sugar cane processing facility (Deng 2011, 16). According to legislation, land-leasing negotiations in rural areas should involve consultations with local communities, who are presumed to be the landowners, and determine adequate compensation to be paid (before the start of any activities) to those who will be affected by the investment in question (e.g. LA 2009). In addition, the Investment Promotion Act states that local communities should be given priority in terms of employment and the delivery of any services associated with the investment project (IPA 2009). Determining whether the Mundari or the Bari is “the community” of Mangalla thus became a fiercely contested issue.

The Bari’s claim to be the legitimate landowner, arguing that they are autochthonous to the area and also the majority group in the area. The Mundari, on the other hand, argue that Mangalla is in Terekeka County, where they form the majority.14 Unsurprisingly, both Mundari and Bari chiefs, elders, and intellectuals who did not live in Mangalla backed the claims made by their ethnic communities—thus taking the dispute beyond the borders of the payam.15 It also resulted in conflicts between individuals that members of the two communities framed as Mundari–Bari conflicts in an attempt to mobilize others to join these confrontations and provoke violent clashes. In January 2015, for example, a dispute between two families in Kworojik-Luri, Juba, quickly escalated and was framed as an “ethnic conflict” between Bari and Mundari groups. The confrontation resulted in the death of 11 individuals from both communities and the injury of about two dozen others.16

As a result, the investors suspended their activities and waited for the landownership question to be resolved.17 The state governor proposed dividing the payam into Mangalla North and Mangalla South; this would have seen Mangalla North remain part of Terekeka County under the authority of Mundari chiefs and Mangalla South become part of Juba County under the authority of Bari chiefs. This proposal, however, was rejected by representatives of both groups as it would have compromised their land rights: the Bari would have lost their ancestral land rights, whereas the Mundari would have lost part of “their county” (Terekeka County) had Mangalla South become part of Juba County, which was considered a “Bari county.”18 Within the 28-states system, each of the two counties has been upgraded to a state, thus making the conflict a state-level dispute. However, the border between the two new states is the same border that the two communities have been disputing since 2009.

The payam of Wonduruba provides us with another illustration of contestation between identity and territory. Unlike the Mangalla case, which was about landownership, the Wonduruba case concerns the payam’s geopolitical status as an electoral constituency. Wonduruba is located in Lainya County and is inhabited by the Nyangrwara; in Lainya County the Nyangrwara are a minority group, and the Pojulu are the majority group. The 2010 national elections were the immediate cause of the conflict in Wonduruba because in Southern Sudan counties, payams, and bomas formed the basis of the political constituencies for the elections.19

While election campaigning, an influential SPLM candidate from Wonduruba called for Wonduruba to be included in the political constituency of Juba County rather than of Lainya County, where the payam is administratively located. This demand was unique because it required an administrative unit of one county to be included in the political constituency of another county. This move triggered a debate within the payam and also put the administrations of Juba County and Lainya County at odds with each other.

This demand not only divided Nyangwara clans within the payam, it also caused a split in local politics in Lainya County. At the county level, proponents of this move foresaw it resulting in an SPLM victory and thus vigorously supported it. Political elites at the national level shared this assessment. Those opposed to this, including those from the SPLM, argued that the change could potentially result in the permanent annexation of Wonduruba by Juba County.20 As with many contentious issues in South Sudan, as we have argued elsewhere (see De Vries and Justin 2014), rather than politically solving this specific case through debate and weighing up arguments, the rush to violence appeared to be the preferred option.

The conflict resulted in “unknown gunmen” attempting to assassinate the SPLM member who proposed the constituency change.21 To mitigate the issue, the CES authorities suggested that they would govern the payam until it was decided whether Wonduruba would remain part of Lainya County or become part of Juba County. During the 2010 elections, Wonduruba was an independent constituency without any links to either county. Meanwhile, the CES government continues to oversee the payam’s administration. With the recent division of CES into three states, Lainya County will become part of Yei River State, which will once again bring the question of Wonduruba back to the spotlight. The question remains whether Wonduruba will be part of Yei River State or of Jubek State.

The disputed border between Lainya and Yei Counties illustrates the country’s colonial legacy. In this case the debate revolves around the choice between administrative or “traditional” borders, which was triggered by a local land dispute. During the colonial era, the administration designated the River Koya, located some 16 kilometers from Yei town towards Lainya County Headquarters, to become the border between two chieftaincies established by the colonial powers. In 2005 the South Sudanese government chose this river to serve as the administrative border between Yei and Lainya Counties

In 2007 two neighboring families—one from the payam of Mukaya in Lainya County and the other from the boma of Gimunu in Yei County—had a dispute over the boundaries between their farms around this border location. Local attempts to resolve this disagreement failed, prompting two chiefs from Mukaya and Gimunu to become involved. However, sharp differences in opinion between the chiefs on how to resolve the dispute changed the focus of the discussions. Instead of resolving a local quarrel between two families, this process saw the issue turn into a dispute about defining the border between the neighboring communities of Mukaya (Pojulu) and Gimunu (Kakwa).22 For the Mukaya chief, the area in question falls within Lainya County. For the Gimunu chief, on the other hand, the dispute occurred within his village, which falls within Yei County. The discussion about the border issue became so complex that the local government authorities and even CES officials had to intervene.23 Conventionally, the existing legal framework on conflict resolution stipulates that chiefs and other traditional leaders knowledgeable on landownership and traditional ways of resolving local disputes to address land conflicts in rural areas (LA 2009; LGA 2009). This conflict, however, had turned into a border dispute between two counties, which meant that the chiefs were part of the problem rather than functioning as problem solvers. As in the case of Mangalla, representatives from the two counties framed their narratives in a way that supported claims made by their respective communities. 24

The main argument presented by the committee from Lainya County was that the existing border divided two chieftaincies headed by Pojulu chiefs. Following the adoption of county–payam–boma system, it would be better to move the border between the counties to where it would divide the Pojulu community of Lainya County with the Kakwa from Yei County. Accordingly, the border should be moved to Yei River, some three kilometers from Yei town. However, this proposal was rejected by the committee representing Yei County.25 They argued that moving the current border towards Yei would displace its people living around the border area and include them into Lainya County against their will. Among the Lainya people, there is disagreement on whether the border should be changed or not. Certain Pojulu chiefs and elders (those who refer to themselves as “Eastern Kakwa”) are particularly opposed to this proposal because it could have negative implications for their “other identity” as “Kakwa.”26 The committee’s findings—presented to the governor and to the two commissioners of Yei and Lainya Counties—suggested that the border should remain at its current location. Despite this advice, the commissioner of Lainya County publicly stated that adopting this resolution might contribute to “bloodshed” between the Poluju and the Kakwa.27 Like the cases in Mangalla and Wonduruba, the border dispute between the two counties remains unresolved. It is yet to be seen whether the recent merger of these counties to form Yei River State could help to settle this border dispute.

As the three cases discussed above show, the territorial borders established by the British colonial authorities in Sudan continue to form the basis of the internal borders in South Sudan. Like in other countries of colonial Africa (e.g Lentz 2000), the internal borders in South Sudan have been subjected to multiple administrative and political changes by various postcolonial governments. Changes to those borders are still ongoing. For instance, the latest administrative shift occurred in October 2015 and will trigger the establishment of new counties, payams, and bomas. The colonial authorities and the South Sudanese authorities exibit a noteworthy similarity in their approach towards establishing administrative units on the basis of ethnic majorities. This increasingly contributes to the exclusion of those who are locally perceived as “outsiders” or minority groups. The contestations around the appointment of commissioners to Lainya and Yei Counties in 2011 and 2012, respectively, are illustrative of this. However, the literature and local narratives suggest that changes in governance structures used to be less violent during the colonial era than they are today. This raises questions about the relationship between local conflicts and national politics and its link to access to land and resources.

In the three cases we observe a number of intertwined factors that contribute to the increasing levels of local conflicts in rural areas. Most of these conflicts are sentimentalized as identity-related land conflicts or border disputes between communities. But the cases show that competition over natural resources and economic and political power struggles are among the immediate causes of the conflict. They are further exacerbated by the weak institutional capacity to mitigate or resolve conflicts at the local and national level. Two aspects deserve further illumination.

The marginalization of rural communities by various postcolonial governments in Sudan has been a central factor to the protracted civil war between the south and the north (e.g. Deng 1995). The interim period offered opportunities to develop policies that addressed the injustices of the past. In reality, however, many turned out to be counterproductive: they not only failed to address marginalization but they also increased local conflicts. On the basis of the 2009 Local Government Act, the government placed rural areas under the authority of chiefs, thus making chiefs local government officials. Yet the 2009 Land Act gave more land rights to rural communities, including the right to decide on how to use their land. The government adopted both of these acts at independence in 2011 and enshrined them in the Transitional Constitution. With the lack of clarity about what constitutes a community, the policy gap in the two acts made it easier for elites to manipulate local people on the basis of identity for personal economic, political or socio-cultural gains. From 2005, SPLM elites became deeply involved in leasing land that was traditionally owned by rural communities (see Deng 2011). With the government resorting to the creation of local administrative units along identity lines, the manipulation of these identities by elites became even more prominent.

In Mangalla, for example, the main question was how to share the spoils of the investments in the area. The lack of clarity on what defines a community prompted intellectuals, chiefs, elders, and other traditional leaders to “construct” identities for the benefit of their own communities at the cost of excluding “others.” Similar dynamics could also be observed in the conflict in Wonduruba and the border dispute between Yei and Lainya Counties. In Wonduruba attempts by a national political figure to win elections in the area shifted the discussion from a political debate to a question of identity—first, within the payam and then between the two neighboring counties of Juba (Bari) and Lainya (Pojulu). Likewise, the land dispute that started between two neighboring families from Mukaya and Gimunu grew into a border conflict between the two counties of Lainya (Pojulu) and Yei (Kakwa).

The use of identity as a mobilization strategy to exclude “others” as a result of competition over resources is not uncommon in Africa. In Ivory Coast, for example, Babo (2013, 100) notes that indigeneity is used as a means to establish control over land and to distinguish between those entitled to land and those not. In Uganda the Buganda people continue to call for federalism with the hope that it will limit landownership within the Buganda Kingdom to the Buganda (Apter 2013). In Ethiopia the country introduced “ethnic federalism” as a strategy to distribute resources equally among the different “nationalities” in the country (Abbink 2011). Though it is too early to tell what impact the decision to increase the number of states in South Sudan to 28 will have on the relationships between identity, resources, and local conflicts, emerging evidence suggests it is likely to contribute to more conflict, violence, and instability.

Like the mobilization of identities around resources, the use of identity as a political tool was also evident in the cases discussed—particularly in the case of Wonduruba. Identity manipulation for political gain has a long history in Sudan (Deng 1995; Jok 2011). During the 1983–2005 civil war, for instance, the SPLM leadership appointed chiefs to head ethnic groups or clans in areas it controlled, indoctrinated those groups in liberation ideologies, and used the groups to conscript soldiers and secure food for its fighting forces (Johnson 1998; Leonardi 2011). After independence, SPLM retained most chiefs it appointed during wartime, included them on the government payroll, and made them upwardly accountable to local government officials who are predominantly from the party. In this regard, chiefs became government agents rather than advocates for rural communities.

Indeed, chiefs continue to play crucial roles in local and national politics, often under instruction by the government. Towards the end of the interim period, chiefs vigorously mobilized their communities to vote for an independent South Sudan, which made a significant contribution in shaping the outcome of the referendum in favor of an independent state.28 This was also the case for the 2010 national elections. At the same time, as the case of Wonduruba shows, some chiefs became more critical in their support of the SPLM, especially those who were not included as government officials.29 In this particular case, the division among the chiefs on whether Wonduruba should become a political constituency of Juba County or remain part of Lainya County resulted in splits within their respective constituencies. Ultimately, those divisions expanded beyond the identity question and went on to become a political issue in the county and the state.

The cases show that the question of identity remains central to the establishment of local government structures in South Sudan—particularly among the lower levels of local government. Often, the number of payams or bomas are reflective of the number of ethnic groups or clans in the area. But the fact that identities can also be constructed, reconstructed, and even negotiated—as argued by Smedt (2011)—means that depending on ethnic identity as the sole criterion for the establishment of local government structures is not a viable option. As pointed out elsewhere, distinctions can be made between members of the same ethnic group. In Burundi, for example, in addition to the general Tutsi–Hutu divide, distinctions are also made between early settlers and later comers and between stayees and those who fled the war (Voors and Bulte 2014). Prior to the establishment of the county–payam–boma system, districts formed the basic local government structure; this meant that the borders between the Bari and the Mundari (both in Juba District) or between the Kakwa and Pojulu (both in Yei District) were not of any political relevance. As Smith (1979) and Ayee (2013) argue, the establishment of local governments is vital to the processes of state-building, yet it remains a complicated process, particularly in relation to the creation of borders. With the current trend to place greater emphasis on ethnicity in the establishment of local government, local administrative units in South Sudan have become a source of contestation at the lower levels of society.

Since the signing of the CPA in 2005, South Sudan has been involved in various stalemates, including bitterly contested politics and armed rebellion. Protracted political differences within the ruling party escalated in December 2013 into a nationwide rebellion that quickly turned into another civil war. The causes of those contests are multifaceted but often intertwined, with those starting at the higher political order trickling down to cause tensions at the societal level. Moreover, local conflicts escalated into wider conflicts that had serious implications at various political levels. The establishment of strong and legitimate local government institutions could potentially mitigate and resolve local conflicts, as well as be an effective way to minimize wider conflicts. However, the current tendency to employ ethnic identity as a strategy to establish local government structures makes it challenging to achieve this.

Drawing on cases from Central Equatoria State (CES) in South Sudan, this article focused on understanding the relationships between local administration, borders, and conflicts. First of all, the article showed that past governance strategies resulted in the emergence of strong linkages between ethnic identities and territories in South Sudan. Thus, conflicts that arose from disputes over territories or borders occurred along ethnic lines. This, in some cases, has contributed to violent conflicts between communities with no histories of ethnic conflict, which also explains the widespread violent conflict in the country following the signing of the CPA. Secondly, we have shown that ethnic identities are not the immediate cause of most of those conflicts; rather, the ethnic factor is often manipulated by elites as a mobilization strategy to achieve individual or group objectives. The increase in political, economic, and socio-cultural stakes in land and territory reinforced this process. The lack of a clear legal and administrative framework contributes enormously to elites’ use of manipulation and negotiation at various levels. The creation of 28 states is likely to further deepen this persisting confusion, which will in all likelihood also result in new conflict over territory, borders, and identities.

This paper is an output of the research programme “Grounding Land Governance,” which is funded by NWO-WOTRO Science for Global Development, The Netherlands. The authors also acknowledge support from the DFG-funded Collaborative Research Centre SFB700 (C10).

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Notes

1 Sudan Tribune, accessed on January 11, 2015, through http://sudantribune.com/spip.php?article56581.

2 Nyamilepedia, accessed on January 15, 2015, through http://nyamile.com/2015/10/08/s-sudan-the-creation-of-28-states-and-the-implications/.

3 Interviews, head chief, Tore, May 20, 2011 and head chief, Lasu, January 31, 2012.

4 Interview, elder, Asole boma, May 3, 2012.

5 Interview, executive chief, Longamere, May 12, 2012.

6 Interviews, executive director, Yei River County, November 27, 2012 and chairman of Pojulu community, Yei, Yei, November 27, 2012.

7 In August 2015 an agreement was signed between the worrying groups (the government and SPLM/A-IO), which resulted in the formation of the Transitional Government of National Unity (TGONU) in April 2016. An apparent mistrust between the government and the SPLM/A-IO resulted in renewed violence in July 2016 at the presidential palace between forces loyal to the president and those loyal to the reinstated first vice president, Riek Machar, who acquired this position on the basis of the agreement.

8 Gurtong, January 15, 2016 through http://gurtong.net/ECM/Editorial/tabid/124/ctl/ArticleView/mid/519/articleId/17532/President-Kiir-Creates-28-States-In-South-Sudan.aspx.

9 South Sudan Nation, accessed January 15, 2015, through http://southsudannation.com/ethnic-balance-with-42-increased-dinka-land-if-28-states-approved/.

10 Interview, SPLA officer, Lainya, March 6, 2013.

11 Interview, Commissioner's office, Yei, March 25, 2013.

12 Interview, Reconcile International, Yei, March 20, 2013.

13 Interviews, head chief, Mangalla, October 10, 2012 and CES parliament, Juba, October 10, 2012.

14 Interview, CES governor's office, Juba, April 10, 2014.

15 Interviews, South Sudan's Human Rights Commission, April 10, 2013 and CES' Ministry of Africulture and Forestry, April 10, 2013.

16 South Sudan Nation, accessed on February 15, 2015, through http://southsudannation.com/memorandum-on-the-recent-clashes-between-mundari-and-bari-tribes-in-kworijik-luri-jan-18th-19th-2015/.

17 Interview, CES governor's office, March 7, 2013.

18 Interview, CES Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, Juba, February 7, 2015.

19 Interview, CES governor's office, Juba, March 7, 2013.

20 Interview, Centre for Peace and Development Studies at the University of Juba, Juba, November 29, 2011.

21 Interview, paramount chief, Lainya, October 30, 2012.

22 Interview, head chief, Mukaya, Yei, September 9, 2012.

23 Interviews, Pojulu community, Yei, October 31, 2012; Kakwa Community Association, November 16, 2012; and executive chief, Gimunu, November 9, 2012.

24 Interview, paramount chief, of Lainya, February 6, 2015.

25 Interviews, Kakwa Community Association, Yei, November 16, 2012 and Pojulu community, Yei, November 16, 2012.

26 Interview, executive director, Yei River County, November 27, 2012.

27 Interview, CES governor's office, Juba, April 10, 2013 and February 7, 2015.

28 Interview, University of Juba, Juba, January 12, 2012.

29 Interviews, head chief, Tore, May 25, 2012 and executive chief, Longamere, November 16, 2012.