In Juba, a city that has known too many seasons of suspended peace, a group of officials, diplomats, and civil society voices gathered with a heavy but hopeful task: to confront the silent threats that can unravel an election before a single ballot is cast. The occasion was the launch of a national multi-agency coordination platform, convened by the Government of South Sudan together with the United Nations and IGAD, on October 13, 2026. The meeting was not about logistics or campaign calendars. It was about the words people hear, the stories they believe, and the lies that can turn a neighbor into an enemy. With South Sudan preparing for long-awaited national elections scheduled for December 22, 2026, there was a shared recognition that the country’s path to democracy could be derailed not only by violence and political instability, but by the quieter erosion of trust caused by hate speech and disinformation. The UN warned that these harmful information currents could undermine the entire electoral process. The atmosphere, one could sense from the statements, was one of cautious resolve: no one wanted to look away from what had happened in other places, where social media rumors and inflammatory rhetoric preceded bloodshed. But there was also determination to build something new—a platform that would monitor, understand, and respond to harmful narratives before they turned into conflict. This was not a theoretical exercise; it was a collective attempt to protect a fragile future, to give citizens a chance to choose their leaders without being manipulated by fear and falsehood.
At the heart of the warning was Beleteze Foretia, representing the United Nations Office of the Special Envoy for the Horn of Africa. He spoke directly to a truth that many South Sudanese feel in their daily lives: political uncertainty, limited access to trustworthy information, and diminishing public confidence create a fertile ground for destructive stories. “Political uncertainty, limited access to credible information and declining public trust can create conditions in which harmful narratives flourish, potentially undermining confidence in political and electoral processes,” he said. His words carried a deep concern: in a country where many people have already been displaced, where communities are still healing, and where elections have been repeatedly delayed, rumor can be as dangerous as a bullet. A false accusation shared on a phone can reignite old grievances. A manipulated image can make a candidate look like a traitor. An incitement broadcast on a local radio station can draw people onto the streets with rage. Foretia emphasized that a peaceful political process cannot exist without reliable information and the ability to express political differences without intimidation or incitement. In other words, democracy is not only about voting booths; it is about whether people can talk, disagree, and still live together. He called on all present to recognize that the greatest risk may not come from armed groups alone, but from the narratives that make conflict feel inevitable. His remarks were a reminder that the election cannot be won by politicians alone; it will be won or lost in the conversations held in marketplaces, churches, and family compounds—whether those conversations are grounded in truth or twisted by lies.
The proposed platform is not just another committee; it is an attempt to stitch together a safety net of institutions and voices that can detect information-related risks early and respond before they explode. It is intended to strengthen cooperation among government institutions, media organizations, civil society groups, academic institutions, and development partners. By linking monitoring and analysis to early-warning and early-response mechanisms, the platform would allow different actors to share what they are seeing on the ground and to agree on coordinated preventive action. “We must move beyond reacting to harmful narratives after tensions have escalated,” Foretia urged. This is a profound shift in mindset. For years, many conflict-prevention efforts have been reactive: wait for the crisis, then try to put out the fire. The new approach attempts to be more like a public-health system for the information space—identifying the first signs of a harmful narrative, tracing its spread, and treating it before it becomes an epidemic of violence. The workshop in Juba was expected to examine how the platform would be governed, who would do what, and how information could move quickly from field monitors to decision-makers. The idea is that if a hateful message is spreading in one town, local leaders, religious figures, media houses, and government authorities can act together—through public statements, fact-checking, community dialogues, or targeted outreach—to stop it from becoming a trigger. There is an acknowledgment that no single institution can do this alone. The platform is therefore designed to be a hub, not a headquarters; a place where existing mandates are respected but where coordination becomes the norm. It is a hopeful experiment in institutional imagination, built on the understanding that peace requires attention not only to armies and treaties, but to the stories people tell each other.
Yet there was also a note of caution, urgent and sobering: the fight against hate speech and disinformation must not become a weapon against the very freedoms that make democracy meaningful. Foretia warned that efforts to counter harmful narratives must safeguard freedom of expression, independent journalism, and legitimate political participation. This is a delicate balancing act, especially in fragile states where governments sometimes use “countering disinformation” as an excuse to silence critics. The UN official made clear that respecting human rights and access to information should remain at the center of the initiative. That means any system to monitor harmful content must be transparent, non-politicized, and accountable. It means independent media should be protected, not pressured. It means political opponents should be able to criticize without being branded as enemies of the state. In societies affected by prolonged conflict, the line between inflammatory rhetoric and legitimate political speech can become blurred. What one person sees as a dangerous incitement, another may see as a necessary protest. The challenge is to intervene without crushing dissent. The workshop participants were reminded that the goal is not to create a sanitized public sphere, but to ensure that the public sphere remains open enough for real debate and safe enough that debate does not lead to bloodshed. This is one of the hardest governance challenges of our time, and South Sudan is now attempting to address it with eyes open. The commitment to human rights is not a bureaucratic add-on; it is the very foundation on which any credible response to hate speech must stand. Without that foundation, efforts to protect the election could end up doing more harm than good.
For Victoria Anib, IGAD’s head of mission in South Sudan, the true value of the platform lies in cooperation, not replacement. “Its purpose is not to replace existing mandates, but to strengthen cooperation, information sharing and coordinated responses to emerging challenges,” she said. Her statement was a quiet reassurance to those who might fear that a new body would centralize power or override existing institutions. Instead, she described a mechanism that would respect the roles of national, regional, and continental organizations, while allowing them to work more effectively together. Anib also emphasized practical requirements: clear institutional roles, stronger links between early warning and preventive action, and national ownership with a sustainable framework. She noted that the changing information environment—social media, instant messaging, deep fakes, and cross-border propaganda—demands that regional organizations and national institutions adapt their approaches as South Sudan prepares for elections and advances its constitution-making process. Information challenges no longer stop at borderlines; a rumor can start in Juba, be amplified in Nairobi, and influence a village far from the capital. Therefore, coordination must also be regional. Anib’s remarks reflected the reality that South Sudan is not an island in a digital world; it is part of an interconnected region where conflicts and narratives often spill across borders. The platform, if well built, could become a model for other countries facing similar threats. It is a recognition that no country can solve the problem of disinformation alone, especially in a region where migration, trade, and historical ties bind people together. National ownership, as she stressed, is essential, but it must go hand in hand with regional solidarity.
South Sudan is scheduled to hold general elections on December 22, 2026—a date that feels both close and fragile. The government has dissolved the transitional leadership, and electoral officials continue to prepare. But questions linger: many political analysts have pointed out that no detailed electoral roadmap and no voter-registration timelines have been publicly issued. This ambiguity creates another opening for harmful narratives: when people do not know what is happening, rumor fills the vacuum. The launch of the coordination platform is a meaningful step, but it is only one piece of a much larger puzzle. It cannot succeed if the basic architecture of the election—voter lists, polling stations, security arrangements, civic education—remains unclear. It cannot succeed if citizens feel excluded or if politicians deliberately use hate speech to mobilize supporters. What happened in Juba on October 13 was a promise, not a guarantee. The promise was that from now on, some of the sharpest minds and most committed institutions in South Sudan would be watching the information space, ready to stand between a lie and a crisis. It was also a reminder to the international community that South Sudan needs not only technical support but also patience, trust, and respect for its sovereignty. For the people of South Sudan, who have endured so much, the hope is that an election will be a moment of choice, not violence—and that the truth, however imperfect, will have a fighting chance. The road to December is short, and the need for action is urgent. But this meeting showed that at least some are determined to walk that road with eyes open, refusing to let the ghosts of disinformation decide the future.