UN bases in South Sudan are 'a blessing and a curse'

It is difficult to piece together exactly how it started. The Dinka claim the Shilluk and the Nuer provoked it; the Shilluk and Nuer say it was all planned by the Dinka-led government.

But despite the contrasting testimonies offered by the area’s main ethnic groups, they all agree on this: the UN mission in South Sudan (Unmiss) failed in its mandate to protect civilians^[1] inside its own base a few kilometres from the ruined city of Malakal^[2].

Related: South Sudan: MSF workers among 18 people dead in violence at UN camp^[3]

On 17 February, clashes erupted inside the UN protection of civilians (POC) site in Malakal^[4], which was packed with 47,000 people.

Dozens of heavily armed men wearing the uniforms of the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), the South Sudanese military force, entered the camp through a hole in the perimeter fence. Thousands of shelters were burned and at least 25 people killed.

According to several sources, it took more than 12 hours – and a request in writing – to coax UN peacekeepers into forcing the gunmen out. The delayed response has caused anger among local communities^[5] and raised fresh concerns about Unmiss’s ability to protect civilians.

But the incident also raises questions about the sustainability of UN camps, which, despite a peace deal signed in August, still shelter about 180,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) in six locations across the country^[6].

“The POC sites were a blessing and a curse,” said one UN official in Malakal. On the one hand, the concentration of IDPs has made it “easy to feed them”. From a peacekeeping perspective, however, the camps are vulnerable to violence, said the official, who spoke on condition of anonymity after employees based there were told to refrain from speaking to journalists amid internal investigations.

The POC sites sprang up almost overnight in December 2013, as the country was plunged into conflict^[7] after President Salva Kiir, a Dinka, accused his former vice-president, Riek Machar, a Nuer, of plotting a coup.

In a bold and unprecedented move to save lives, Unmiss opened its fortified gates to civilians fleeing the killings that engulfed the nation.

Ellen Margrethe Løj, the special representative of the UN secretary general and head of Unmiss, visited Malakal on 8 March to assess the situation. Photograph: Isaac Billy/Unmiss

More than two years on, though, there is no clear plan. “We don’t have a timeline,” Ellen Margrethe Løj, the special representative of the UN secretary general and head of Unmiss, said in December^[8]. “One thing is absolutely clear: return from the POC site has to be voluntary, safe and sustainable.”

But many are unwilling to leave amid ceasefire violations^[9] and the risk of famine^[10] in some parts of the country. The overcrowded camps are morphing into semi-permanent, slum-like settlements, complete with schools, clinics, markets and community centres.

The sites are also plagued by crime and violence. Opportunities to work are few, and so young men sit around playing cards and drinking alcohol. Ethnic groups live side by side, separated by nothing but a dirt road in a country where conflict has deepened sectarian strife. Guns are easily smuggled through gates largely manned by subcontracted security guards drawn from local communities, who are rarely seen conducting thorough searches.

Mindful of the incendiary climate inside the camps, Unmiss has dedicated most of its 12,500^[11] uniformed personnel towards keeping the camps safe. The strategy has been criticised by those who say there needs to be a heavier peacekeeping presence beyond the mission’s bases, where repeated atrocities have taken place^[12].

Unmiss must explain why it took about 1,200 peacekeeping troops (according to the UN’s own figures) equipped with heavy armour so long to respond to February’s violence, but some insiders say the incident sheds light on deeper weaknesses within the mission.

They argue that the separate and linguistically incompatible command structures of the Indian, Rwandan and Ethiopian troops made a swift and coordinated response near impossible – and that such problems are exacerbated by a culture of complacency among troops.

“It’s all about collecting allowances, avoiding risk and saving face,” a UN official in Malakal said.

Yet, as poor as conditions are inside the camps, the prospects outside look even more dismal.

“I will not move from this camp,” said William Bol Thiny, 50, as he picked through the pile of charred metal that was his home. “The UN is weak in protecting, but at least they provide food and water.”

Unmiss and humanitarian agencies face far greater challenges when operating outside the POCs – not least because local authorities don’t always adhere to agreed principles of free movement.

“[Unmiss] secure the camp – that is the agreement,” said Chol Thon Balok, the new governor of Eastern Nile state. “It shouldn’t be that they go wherever they like.”

Serving dispersed communities is also more expensive. Aid organisations are rushing to deliver services in the previously deserted town of Malakal, after about 7,000 Dinka resettled there following the clashes inside the POC.

A peacekeeper in Malakal. Photograph: Isaac Billy/Unmiss

Observers suggest the incident may increase pressure from New York to start disbanding the sites. Unmiss recently told its humanitarian partners it would begin facilitating departures for residents from one of the smaller POC sites in Bor, according to an aid worker who sat in on that meeting.

But given the volatile security situation in other parts of the country, at least some POCs are likely to remain.

The UN has announced a high-level, independent inquiry^[13] into what went wrong inside the Malakal POC. “We and the UN will do a thorough investigation as to what happened,” said Løj in March^[14]. “We’ll focus, not least, on how we behaved.”

Improving accountability might lessen suspicions among South Sudan’s deeply polarised communities, who are quick to view Unmiss as politically motivated.

“How can they let us be killed for two days and nobody comes to rescue us?” asked Matthew Chol Jock, chairman of the Peace and Security Council, a community-led organisation that resolves conflicts in the camp. “It means there is an agreement between the UN and the government.”

Residents of the Malakal POC are slowly reconstructing their burned shelters. Rebuilding confidence in the organisation they had trusted to protect their lives is likely to take much longer.

References

1. ^{^} its mandate to protect civilians (www.un.org)
2. ^{^} its own base a few kilometres from the ruined city of Malakal (www.theguardian.com)
3. ^{^} South Sudan: MSF workers among 18 people dead in violence at UN camp (www.theguardian.com)
4. ^{^} clashes erupted inside the UN protection of civilians (POC) site in Malakal (www.theguardian.com)
5. ^{^} The delayed response has caused anger among local communities (www.theguardian.com)
6. ^{^} 180,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) in six locations across the country (unmiss.unmissions.org)
7. ^{^} December 2013, as the country was plunged into conflict (www.theguardian.com)
8. ^{^} December (www.aljazeera.com)
9. ^{^} ceasefire violations (jmecsouthsudan.org)
10. ^{^} risk of famine (www.ipcinfo.org)
11. ^{^} 12,500 (www.un.org)
12. ^{^} a heavier peacekeeping presence beyond the mission’s bases, where repeated atrocities have taken place (www.theguardian.com)
13. ^{^} inquiry (www.un.org)
14. ^{^} said Løj in March (www.theguardian.com)