South Sudan’s story is one of resilience and sacrifice, a nation born out of the ashes of war, with dreams of peace, dignity, and prosperity. Yet, more than a decade after independence, one crucial segment of its population is the youth that has remained voiceless, excluded, and drifted. The same generation that endured 21 years of civil war, displacement, hunger, and hopelessness now finds itself trapped in the struggle for opportunity, identity, and belonging.
The young men and women of South Sudan who form more than 70 percent of the population have carried the heaviest burden of the nation’s instability. They have known nothing but war, crisis, and broken promises. Their silence is not a choice; it is a reflection of a systematic neglect, political marginalization, and social despair.
For many South Sudanese youth, the war never ended. While guns may have fallen silent in some areas, the battle for education, employment, and inclusion rages on. The majority of the youth, especially in rural areas and the displaced communities, have grown up in an education system where classrooms are overcrowded, teachers underpaid, and resources scarce.
University graduates walk the streets of Juba, Wau, Yambio, and Malakal searching for work that never comes. Their dreams fade into frustration as government offices, NGOs, and private institutions favor connections over competence. Opportunities for scholarships, internships, or leadership roles are limited to a privileged few, leaving the rest feeling invisible.
The result is devastating, a generation that should be driving national development has instead become a casualty of exclusion. Many young people have lost faith in the promise of independence. Without avenues to contribute to nation-building, they drift into hopelessness that breeds deviance, resentment, and despair.
In the political landscape, youth participation is often symbolic rather than substantive. While national speeches praise the youth as “the leaders of tomorrow,” that tomorrow never comes. Decision-making spaces, which is from parliament to ministries, to local councils, have remained dominated by the old guard, leaving the young token roles or mobilization during lobby seasons for the candidates they prefer to join the government.
Youth organizations exist but are often underfunded, fragmented, or politicized. Many young leaders who speak out against injustice face intimidation or are branded as rebels or troublemakers. This culture of fear and silence has created a generation that feels unwanted in its own nation, whereby the people who fought for freedom cannot freely shape their future.
The effects of exclusion ripple through families, communities, and the entire nation. With unemployment and idleness rising, urban youth gangs have become a growing concern in cities like Juba, Wau, and Bentiu. Groups of frustrated young men, disillusioned by broken systems, turn to violence, robbery, and drugs, not out of choice, but as a desperate form of identity and survival.
Alcohol abuse has become a daily escape from pain. Street fights, domestic disputes, and early marriages are symptoms of a society where young people have lost direction. Many now suffer from psychosocial trauma, anxiety, and depression, often with no access to counseling or mental health services. The war scarred their parents physically, but the new struggle is scarring the youth mentally.
At the household level, young men and women still play vital roles of providing labor, caring for siblings, or engaging in petty trade to support their families. Yet, even in these efforts, they remain undervalued. Their contributions are seen as duty, not as national building blocks. The youth are surviving, but they are not thriving.
A nation that ignores its youth is a nation that undermines its future. The energy, creativity, and courage of South Sudan’s young people are the greatest untapped resources the country possesses. The youth are not a threat to peace, they are the missing link to achieving it.
When youth are included in governance, they bring fresh perspectives and innovative solutions. When they are empowered economically, they drive productivity and self-reliance. When they are educated and mentored, they become the guardians of peace and accountability. Exclusion breeds rebellion, but inclusion nurtures stability.
The time for rhetoric has passed. The government must move from talk to tangible action such as investing in education and skills developmentin orderto build and equip schools, vocational centers, and universities that prepare the youth for real jobs and innovation.
The government should create youth employment programs that prioritize merit, not political loyalty. It should support small enterprises, agriculture, and digital startups led by young people.
In related development, the government could have institutionalized youth representation in governance, not as decorations, but as decision-makers at all levels of leadership.
The government needs to strengthen mental health and psychosocial support programs in communities and schools to address trauma and social unrest.
The government should be fair, transparent, and accessible to all in recruitment and internship systems that enable the youth to attain opportunities.
Community-based initiatives that empower the youth through sports, arts, and peacebuilding should be supported. These steps are not privileges; they are investments in the survival of the nation.
South Sudan cannot afford to lose another generation. The young people deserve more than sympathy. They deserve leaders who see them not as problems, but as partners in progress.
The future of South Sudan will not be built in offices or conferences alone; it will be built in classrooms, in villages, youth centers, and in the hearts of millions of young people who still believe in hope.
If the youth continue to be ignored, the nation risks repeating the same cycles of frustration and violence that once tore it apart. But if they are empowered, inspired, and trusted South Sudan can finally rise as the nation it was meant to be: free, united, and full of promise.
The power of listening has positive attributes that could lead to a few changes that will lead to nation building as lamented below,
It begins with listening.
Listening to the young mother in Yambio trying to feed her children.
Listening to the unemployed graduate in Juba searching for dignity.
Listening to the orphan in Bentiu who dreams of becoming a teacher.
Listening to the artist in Torit who paints peace with hope.
The youth of South Sudan have voices which are powerful, passionate, and full of ideas.
It is time the nation heard them, because when youth voices matter, the nation thrives
The writer, Mogga Loyo, is a social researcher and peace advocate. He can be reached via email: mogtomloyo@yahoo.co.uk
The views expressed in ‘opinion’ articles published by Radio Tamazuj are solely those of the writer. The veracity of any claims made is the responsibility of the author, not Radio Tamazuj.