Juba Peace Agreement: The Persistence of Making Impossible Promises (2)
By Abdullah Ali Ibrahim
The Juba Peace Agreement has once again become central to political and war-related discourse today. I am publishing this paper, which I presented at a conference held at the Doha Center last year, to contribute to the renewed discussion about the agreement—one that few have actually read.
The Agreement That No One Read
The major flaw of the agreement, being an expedient deal, lies in the reluctance of the ruling elite and opinion leaders to even review it. Many refrained from reading its text or the procedures that led to its signing. Yet, they fiercely debated issues explicitly addressed in the agreement. Discussions about the agreement—both before and after its signing—revealed not only ignorance about which state entity was authorized by the transitional constitutional document to negotiate peace with the armed groups but also a lack of awareness regarding the negotiation outcomes.
Disputes erupted over which state body had the mandate to oversee negotiations—was it the Sovereignty Council or the transitional government? After the agreement was signed, political circles engaged in heated debates over the separation of religion and state. These disputes would not have arisen had the participants actually read the agreement.
Many civilians argued that peace negotiations fell within the government’s jurisdiction and criticized what they saw as an abdication of its authority to the military members of the Sovereignty Council. However, the constitutional document does not support the claim that the government was responsible for conducting negotiations. The document ambiguously mentions peace-related responsibilities in two different sections:
1. Article 16(2) assigns the Cabinet the duty of “working to stop wars and conflicts and building peace.”
2. Article 12(c) grants the Sovereignty Council the authority to “oversee the peace process with armed movements,” in addition to appointing the head and members of the Peace Commission “in consultation with the Cabinet” (Article 12-3).
Acting on its interpretation of the constitutional document, the Sovereignty Council took charge of the peace negotiations and appointed the Juba negotiators. Whether it labeled them as the Peace Commission or consulted the Cabinet remains unclear. However, such foundational ambiguity does not inspire confidence in an agreement marred by contradictions from its inception.
The political uproar about religion and state that followed the agreement further proves that no one had read it. Sovereignty Council member and chief government negotiator, Lieutenant General Shams al-Din Kabashi, rejected a charter agreed upon by Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok and SPLM-North leader Abdelaziz al-Hilu in November 2020 because it called for a secular state. Kabashi dismissed their agreement as “a grant from those who do not own to those who do not deserve.” Similarly, Sovereignty Council Chairman Abdel Fattah al-Burhan signed a “Declaration of Principles” with al-Hilu in April 2022, followed by the Communist Party’s own declaration in May 2022, emphasizing the necessity of a secular state. If any of these parties had read the Juba Agreement, they would have avoided their posturing and refrained from demanding what had already been agreed upon.
Upon reviewing the Juba Agreement’s provisions on religion and state, one finds it among the most explicit documents advocating for their separation. Article 7.1 of the Juba Agreement’s “National Issues” section stipulates the “complete separation of religious institutions from state institutions to ensure that religion is not exploited in politics, and for the state to maintain equal distance from all religions and beliefs, with this principle enshrined in the country’s constitution and laws.”
The Darfur power-sharing agreement also mandates “complete separation between religious institutions and state institutions to prevent the use of religion in politics.” The agreement concerning the Two Areas (South Kordofan and Blue Nile) states that citizenship, without discrimination, is the foundation of all rights and duties. It specifies that “the state must remain equidistant from all religions and cultures, without any ethnic, religious, or cultural bias that undermines this right,” and mandates that this principle be incorporated into the transitional constitutional document.
The agreement grants the Two Areas legislative autonomy in recognition of their unique status, affirming this as an inherent right that does not contradict the national constitution. So, were those fervently demanding secularism unaware of the Juba Agreement’s provisions? Or is a secular state only valid when it comes from Abdelaziz al-Hilu?
The idea that the time for separating religion from the state has come is often repeated, but history does not show such transformations occurring overnight. Even the Islamist-led Inqadh regime, which once declared jihad to restore religion to the state, gradually abandoned its claims about religious governance while carefully avoiding explicit mention of secularism. In 2002, the Machakos Protocol between the Inqadh government and the SPLM acknowledged Sudan’s religious and ethnic diversity and included the following provisions on religion and state:
1. Religions, customs, and beliefs are sources of spiritual strength and inspiration for the Sudanese people.
2. Freedom of belief, worship, and conscience is guaranteed for all, and no one shall be discriminated against on these grounds.
3. All positions, including the presidency and public service, as well as the enjoyment of all rights and duties, shall be based on citizenship rather than religion, belief, or customs.
The failure to engage with the Juba Agreement’s text was evident in a workshop held after the fall of the transitional government in October 2022. Instead of analyzing the agreement, the workshop rehashed the familiar grievance narrative—perpetuating the center-periphery divide. However, I have not seen an agreement that addresses these grievances as comprehensively, if not excessively, as the Juba Peace Agreement.
Dr. Al-Baqir Al-Afif, a prominent thinker on Sudanese identity, reiterated these grievances at the workshop. He argued that Sudan’s long-running wars stemmed from the ruling elite’s refusal to reconcile with non-Arab, non-Islamic identities. Since Sudan’s independence in 1956, successive governments—dominated by Arab-Muslim elites from the north—have failed to manage diversity, leading to disastrous consequences. He also criticized the way Sudanese history is taught in schools, where it begins with the arrival of Arabs and Islam in the 8th and 9th centuries, ignoring the grand history of the Kingdom of Kush (2500–542 BCE), which archaeological discoveries suggest was the foundation of Egyptian civilization.
Had Al-Afif examined the Juba Agreement, he would have found it deeply concerned with cultural diversity and its management, more than any previous Sudanese political agreement. The agreement explicitly states that citizenship, free from ethnic, religious, or cultural discrimination, should be the foundation of legislation.
Moreover, the Juba Agreement went beyond mere political settlements to address historical narratives. It granted the residents of the Two Areas the right to participate in rewriting Sudan’s history to reflect the contributions of all its peoples to national unity. It also established mechanisms to implement this right in coordination with national institutions. Additionally, it called for an objective study of slavery as part of Sudan’s history of societal oppression—an unusual inclusion in a political agreement.
However, the idea of granting “residents” of a particular area the right to rewrite history is problematic. Historian and politician Hassan Abdin argued that history should be written by historians—whether from the Two Areas, other parts of Sudan, or even foreign researchers. There is no historical precedent for an “authority” rewriting history through administrative mechanisms. Typically, professional historians working in university departments conduct research, set priorities, allocate resources, and ensure scholarly oversight.
Sudan’s ruling and opposition elites suffer from a disconnect between politics and culture. This disconnect is at the root of much of our societal chaos. For instance, why have Sudanese armed movements not prioritized documenting the histories of their regions alongside their military campaigns? Have any of them established or supported research institutes about their homelands? The lack of financial resources is not an excuse, as these movements have always found ways to arm themselves. The SPLM even discontinued its cultural magazine citing financial constraints, though it could have easily funded it through trade.
It is baffling that revolutionaries prioritize weapons over knowledge. What will ultimately restrain violence if not culture? Why does culture always come as an afterthought at peace negotiations rather than being integral from the start?
To be continued…
