Unilateral changes will not bring peace to South Sudan
Across three continents this week, the scaffolding of peace is being tested by those who hold power and those who wield violence. In South Sudan, a president rewrites the terms of reconciliation without consent; in eastern Congo, an Ebola outbreak finds its footing in the gaps left by armed conflict; and in Myanmar, survivors of a massacre remain confined while accountability recedes further into the distance. Each crisis is distinct, yet together they trace a familiar human pattern — the way fragile agreements, once bent, rarely spring back on their own.
- South Sudan's president unilaterally stripped the 2018 peace deal of its core electoral safeguards, removing constitutional timelines and census requirements without any negotiation.
- Eighteen nations responded with a rare joint condemnation, warning that such unilateral changes betray both the letter and spirit of the accord — but whether the diplomatic pressure will hold is far from certain.
- In eastern Congo, an Ebola outbreak is spreading through territory made inaccessible by M23 rebel activity, with a leading medical expert warning that peace is not a political luxury but a public health necessity.
- A partial M23 withdrawal from positions near Uvira — prompted by U.S. sanctions on former president Kabila — offers a narrow window for health workers, though the ceasefire's durability remains deeply uncertain.
- A year after nearly eighty Rohingya villagers were massacred in Myanmar, Human Rights Watch has documented the killings through forty-one witness accounts, yet survivors remain effectively detained and perpetrators largely unpunished.
- With over 1.2 million Rohingyas confined to camps in Bangladesh and accountability still out of reach, the 2024 massacre risks becoming another entry in a long ledger of impunity.
Three crises unfolded this week across South Sudan, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Myanmar — each a different wound, each revealing how quickly the architecture of peace can be dismantled or simply left to decay.
In South Sudan, President Salva Kiir Mayardit's party moved on May 11 to quietly gut the 2018 peace agreement, removing the requirement for a permanent constitution and canceling a planned census before elections. The response was swift. By May 19, eighteen nations — including the United States, Britain, France, Germany, and Japan — had issued a joint statement demanding a return to dialogue. The message was unambiguous: unilateral changes do not make peace, they unravel it. Whether Kiir's government will listen is another matter.
In eastern Congo, an Ebola outbreak has taken root in territory already torn apart by armed conflict. Dr. Hypolite Muhindo Mavoko, a tropical medicine professor at the University of Kinshasa, explained the problem plainly on France 24: fighting makes early detection nearly impossible, because outbreaks are happening in places too dangerous to enter. His prescription was as much political as medical — peace first, then containment. A week earlier, M23 rebels had pulled back from positions near Uvira following U.S. sanctions on former president Joseph Kabila over alleged ties to the group. The withdrawal opened a sliver of possibility, but whether it lasts long enough for health workers to gain ground remains uncertain.
In Myanmar, the reckoning for past violence continues to be deferred. The Arakan Army has denied responsibility for the killing of nearly eighty Rohingya villagers on May 2, 2024. Human Rights Watch, publishing its findings on May 18, documented the massacre through forty-one witness accounts corroborated by satellite imagery and video evidence. The survivors cannot go home. Many are effectively confined, their movement restricted, their futures suspended. They are the latest additions to a population already shattered — more than 750,000 Rohingyas fled Myanmar's military campaign in 2017, and today over 1.2 million live in crowded camps in Bangladesh. The perpetrators of earlier atrocities have largely avoided conviction. The 2024 massacre may follow the same path.
Three crises are unfolding across the globe this week, each revealing how fragile the architecture of peace and stability remains when power shifts or violence resurges.
In South Sudan, the government has moved unilaterally to reshape the terms of a peace agreement that was supposed to chart the country's path forward. On May 11, President Salva Kiir Mayardit's party stripped the 2018 accord of several foundational requirements—removing the timeline for drafting a permanent constitution and canceling plans for a national population census before elections could proceed. The move triggered an immediate diplomatic response. By May 19, eighteen nations—Australia, Canada, Cyprus, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Ireland, Japan, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Portugal, Slovenia, Sweden, Switzerland, Britain, and the United States—had issued a joint statement calling on Kiir to return to the negotiating table. The statement was direct: unilateral changes violated both the letter and spirit of the agreement and would not deliver peace. The message was clear enough, but whether it will alter the government's course remains uncertain.
In eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, a different kind of crisis is spreading. An Ebola outbreak has taken hold in a region already fractured by armed conflict, and the two catastrophes are feeding each other. Dr. Hypolite Muhindo Mavoko, a tropical medicine professor at the University of Kinshasa, appeared on France 24 on May 18 to explain the bind. The fighting, he said, has made it nearly impossible to identify cases early because outbreaks are occurring in areas that are difficult to reach and dangerous to enter. He called for a push toward peace and security—not as an abstract good, but as a practical necessity. Without it, health workers cannot move freely to track contacts, identify the sick, and isolate them. The timing matters. Just a week earlier, on May 11, M23 rebels had withdrawn from several positions in the region under pressure from the United States to honor a ceasefire. They pulled back from Kabunambo, about thirty-five kilometers north of Uvira, to Luvungi, roughly thirty kilometers further north toward Bukavu. The withdrawal followed U.S. sanctions imposed on former president Joseph Kabila over alleged ties to the armed group—allegations Kabila denies. Whether this tactical retreat will hold long enough for the Ebola response to gain ground is an open question.
In Myanmar, the consequences of past violence continue to trap survivors in a kind of permanent limbo. The Arakan Army, an ethnic armed organization operating in Rakhine state, has denied responsibility for a massacre that killed nearly eighty Rohingya villagers on May 2, 2024. Human Rights Watch released a report on May 18 documenting the killings through interviews with forty-one witnesses whose accounts were verified using satellite imagery, social media posts, and videos. The survivors have not been able to return home. Many are effectively detained, unable to move freely, their lives suspended in a state of enforced displacement. This is the latest chapter in a longer catastrophe. In 2017, Myanmar's military launched a counter-insurgency campaign that became an ethnic cleansing operation, forcing more than 750,000 Rohingyas to flee to Bangladesh. They joined earlier arrivals to form the world's largest refugee settlement. Today, over 1.2 million Rohingyas are confined to camps in Cox's Bazar and Bhasan Char, living in crowded conditions marked by poverty and insecurity. The perpetrators of crimes against the Rohingya have largely escaped conviction. The massacre of 2024 may add to that toll of impunity.
Citas Notables
Unilateral changes to the agreement are not in accordance with the letter and spirit of the agreement and will not bring peace to South Sudan.— Joint statement from 18 nations
This could be a high time to plead for and push the peace agenda and security agenda, so that people who have gone to the field can move easily and have possibilities to track contacts and identify cases.— Dr. Hypolite Muhindo Mavoko, tropical medicine professor
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does South Sudan's president think he can simply rewrite a peace deal that was supposed to be binding?
Because he has the power to do so, and because the international community has limited leverage once a government decides to act unilaterally. The deal was always fragile—it required trust and continued commitment from all sides. When that breaks, words on paper don't hold.
But eighteen countries just condemned him. Doesn't that matter?
It matters as a signal, as a line drawn. But it only matters if those countries are willing to enforce consequences. Statements are important, but they're not the same as action.
Let's talk about Congo. How does a disease outbreak and armed conflict interact?
They create a vicious cycle. Conflict makes people move unpredictably, disrupts health systems, and creates areas where disease can spread unseen. You can't contain an outbreak if you can't reach the people who have it. And you can't reach them if there's active fighting.
So the ceasefire there is actually a public health measure?
Exactly. It's not just about stopping violence—it's about creating the conditions where disease surveillance and response become possible. Dr. Mavoko was saying that plainly.
And the Rohingya—why are survivors still trapped after all this time?
Because there's no political will to resolve it. The perpetrators haven't been held accountable, so there's no justice. The camps remain because no one has forced Myanmar to accept the Rohingya back, and no one has created a safe place for them to return to. They're in a holding pattern that has become permanent.
Is there any movement toward accountability?
Not yet. The report documents what happened, which matters for the historical record. But documentation alone doesn't bring justice. That requires political pressure, international courts, or a change in Myanmar's government. None of those seem imminent.