By Don Bosco Malish
South Sudan is edging toward a fateful choice: to proceed with elections under an incomplete transition, or to prolong a political arrangement that has already outlived its original mandate. The idea of holding elections before completing the permanent constitution and a national census is legally conceivable and politically tempting, but it is also fraught with risks that cannot be ignored. At stake is not only the legitimacy of the next government, but also whether this move triggers renewal or relapse into violence.
A bold shortcut or a dangerous detour? The proposal to decouple elections from the permanent constitution and census rests on a simple logic: the country needs a fresh mandate more urgently than it needs perfect institutions. Under this view, the Transitional Constitution can be adjusted, and the peace-agreement framework re‑sequenced, to allow “elections under a transitional framework” rather than waiting for a fully completed constitutional order. Yet this shortcut immediately raises hard questions: if the legal architecture is consciously incomplete, what guarantees exist that losers will accept the results, and that winners will restrain themselves from abusing the fluidity of the framework to entrench power further?
How will parliamentarians accept their own possible exit?
Any serious attempt to sell this idea must confront parliamentary self‑interest head‑on. Many members of the current legislature—beneficiaries of power‑sharing formulas and political appointments—know that competitive elections are likely to reduce their numbers and, for some, end their presence in parliament altogether. Why should a majority voluntarily legislate themselves out of office?
Several uncomfortable questions follow: What incentive structure can persuade incumbents to vote for reforms that may cost them their seats—political guarantees, soft‑landing arrangements, or future roles in a reconfigured political order?
Can term‑limit “grand bargains” or pension and immunity packages be honestly discussed without appearing to reward impunity?
How can champions of this proposal frame it as a statesmanlike legacy move—“leaving office to save the nation”—rather than a self‑inflicted defeat?
Unless these incentives and narratives are clearly articulated, the proposal risks dying inside parliament long before the public has a chance to debate it.
Security actors, private loyalties, and the risk of new violence
Even if the legal amendments pass, the elephant in the room remains the security sector. Many security actors, from senior commanders to local forces, retain personal, ethnic, or factional loyalties that supersede institutional discipline. Proceeding to elections without a permanent constitution and census in place may deepen fears among elites that they are entering a zero‑sum contest with no safety net.
This raises further vital questions:
If large parts of the security apparatus still owe allegiance to individuals rather than the state, who will guarantee that electoral disputes are managed through law rather than force?
What minimum level of security-sector reform, unification, and depoliticization is necessary before elections are more likely to reduce violence than trigger it?
Can binding codes of conduct, robust monitoring, and regional guarantees realistically restrain actors who see violence as their last insurance policy?
Unless these security dilemmas are addressed as political problems—not merely technical “arrangements”—early elections could provide the spark for a new cycle of confrontation.
Making the idea marketable in Juba
To gain traction in the Transitional National Legislature and among political elites, this proposal needs more than legal soundness; it needs a persuasive political narrative. That narrative might rest on three pillars:
Controlled risk, not reckless gamble: Frame early elections under a revised transitional framework as a managed way out of perpetual extension, with clear minimal safeguards, instead of a leap into the dark.
Shared sacrifice for collective survival: Emphasize that all parties—including the presidency, opposition leaders, and current MPs—will lose something, but that the alternative is a slow slide toward irrelevance, isolation, and possible renewed conflict.
A transitional contract, not a final settlement: Present the arrangement openly as an interim contract: a way to refresh legitimacy and unlock the constitutional process, not as the definitive end‑state of South Sudan’s political order.
Even so, advocates must be honest: can a parliament composed largely of appointees and power‑sharing beneficiaries be persuaded to vote for its own downsizing without credible guarantees of personal and collective security?
Selling the idea to the international community internationally, the idea must be marketed not as a clever procedural trick, but as a responsible response to a prolonged and unsustainable transition. External partners will ask: is this a genuine step toward democratization, or simply a new way to repackage the status quo?
To win support, proponents should: Anchor the proposal in principles: Tie the re sequenced elections clearly to commitments to human rights, civic space, inclusion of women and youth, and a time‑bound constitutional completion process.
Offer verifiable benchmarks: Present a credible roadmap with measurable steps legal reforms, NEC readiness, minimum security guarantees, dispute‑resolution mechanisms—so partners can monitor progress rather than rely on promises.
Invite shared responsibility: Encourage regional and international actors to play defined roles in observation, mediation of disputes, and support to security‑sector oversight, making them stakeholders in both the process and its outcomes.
Yet a final uncomfortable question remains: if the international community backs elections under an incomplete framework that many citizens perceive as unfair or unsafe, will it be prepared to shoulder responsibility for the consequences if the process goes wrong? In the end, the argument for early elections under a transitional framework is an argument about managed risk: does South Sudan face greater danger from holding imperfect elections soon, or from postponing them yet again in the name of an elusive “readiness”? Any opinion in favor of this path must be honest about who stands to lose, who stands to gain, and what concrete protections can be put in place to ensure that the cure does not become worse than the disease.
