Ajak Deng Chiengkou - Photo credit: Facebook profile/ Ajak Deng Chiengkou

The lessons of Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria caution us against importing conflicts that are not our own. Protecting our land, our sovereignty, and our future requires scrutiny, not silence.

South Sudan must think beyond today. We must ask what the decisions of this moment will mean 75 years from now. A nation that thinks in decades survives. A nation that chases quick deals risks breaking itself on the rocks.

History offers lessons. The Balfour Declaration of 1917 seemed 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 are still unresolved. South Sudan must not become another testing ground for mistakes that outlive their makers.

Recent reporting, including in Israeli newspapers, suggests contacts between South Sudanese officials and foreign actors. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs brushed the matter aside with a short note but offered no detailed explanation. That is not enough. Agreements with the power to bind our country to distant conflicts should 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 all it contains. Leaders come and go, but the land remains. Protecting it is not only the work 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 monitored, restricted, and politicised. In that process, South Sudan could be branded a “security hotspot” and subjected to foreign interference.

The experiences of Lebanon, Jordan, and Syria offer clear warnings. In Lebanon, camps such as Sabra and Shatila became militarised and were drawn into the civil war, ultimately becoming 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 then 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 be 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 demands 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 the 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.

The author, Ajak Deng Chiengkou, is a prominent South Sudanese journalist who tells impactful stories, celebrates culture, and sparks dialogue on global issues.

Editor’s Note: The views expressed in the above articles, as published by Eye Radio, are entirely those of the writer. Any claims made are the responsibility of the author, not Eye Radio.