‘Killing is part of their life’: the men raised on violence who are both perpetrators and victims as South Sudan faces return to civil war

*Some pseudonyms are used to protect the identities of interviewees.

“I saw a lot of suffering.” The old man, Lokwi, gestures towards the woman cooking beside their hut as he talks. “The husband of this woman … was killed here.”

The woman is Lokwi’s sister-in-law. He is recalling the day in 1988 when his brother was killed by soldiers from the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA). Lokwi was still a child when the SPLA captured the town of Kapoeta and surrounding settlements, where he lived with his family. The day his brother was killed, everybody was forced to leave:

There was nothing good that day … They burned all the villages and the soldiers attacked the civilians. People were scattered.

South Sudan – a central African country of around 11.5 million people split in half by the White Nile – suffered decades of conflict prior to gaining independence from the rest of Sudan in 2011. While independence brought optimism, this was thwarted two years later by internal disputes among the ruling parties that led to a resurgence of the violence.

While a ceasefire was brokered in 2018 and a power-sharing agreement signed between opposing political factions, there has been a lack of political will to implement it. The dire economic situation, worsening food insecurity driven by climate change and political instability, and legacies of ethnic rivalries continue to perpetuate ethnically motivated violence and distrust between communities. In April, the head of the UN mission in South Sudan, Nicholas Haysom, warned that the world’s youngest nation is once again on the brink of civil war.

Amid this resurgence of violence, Lokwi – who is from the Toposa community – continues to be haunted by memories of the attack that killed his brother. Sitting under the shade of a tree in the village where it took place, he explains how he fled into the bush and survived for days on wild fruit until, starving, he managed to get to the town of Narus, where he was given some food by a local Dinka man.

When Lokwi finally returned to his village, he found everything destroyed by fire – huts, livestock and granaries “all burned”. Whereas he decided to start again and rebuild the village, his surviving brother, now living in Narus, promised “never to step in this land again because of the memories and pain”.

Today, Lokwi works as a peace activist in South Sudan. He spends a lot of time encouraging people in his village and the surrounding area to engage in peaceful dialogue with rival groups – and to resist violence. With an expression of concern, he explains the difficulties he faces in dissuading young men from engaging in violence:

When I tell them to stop the conflict … we have homes and families who listen and stay calm, but other individuals like the [male] youths don’t listen, they still create problems.

South Sudan’s long history of cattle raiding

Over the course of 2024, Anna Adiyo Sebit and three other South Sudanese researchers interviewed more than 400 men and women from South Sudan’s Toposa and Nuer communities as part of the XCEPT programme. This programme, based at King’s College London, seeks to understand the role that conflict-related trauma plays in influencing who engages in violence and who doesn’t.

As well as inter-ethnic fighting, South Sudan has a long history of cattle raiding. Cattle are central to the pastoralist communities which make up over half of the population, including ethnic groups such as the Dinka, Nuer and Toposa.

In most rural households, financial capital is typically held in livestock, mainly cows – which are also required for dowry payments and as compensation for any crimes committed. This places high value on cattle ownership, meaning that raiding and inter-community disputes over cattle are common.

And whereas these disputes were once fought with sticks, stones and spears, years of political conflict have left the country awash with guns – so cattle raiding has become a lethal activity. As one old man who described himself as a “retired warrior” explained:

In our grandparents’ and grand ancestors’ [time], in battles or fighting we used stones, pangas, sticks, spears and arrows. [At this time there were] rare fights or raids waged against [other] tribes … But after the introduction of AK-47 machine guns, it accelerated [to] higher numbers of raids and increased casualties in both communities.

Among these pastoralist communities, gender norms determine that where women and girls are tasked with maintaining domestic life, including sustaining subsistence farming and constructing huts, men are expected to keep and secure cattle. Many young men are active in cattle camps, which are in areas with better pastures where cows are taken to graze – but can be vulnerable to raids from other ethnic groups.

In many parts of rural South Sudan, young men are expected to fight to secure and protect their livelihood – including achieving the required “bride price” for their marriage to go ahead. Successful cattle raids can earn a young man respect among his peers.

But the trauma of experiencing violence from a young age, as so many of these young men have, is likely to be a factor in the perpetuation of various forms of violence in adulthood, including the prevalence of revenge killings.

The high rates of violence are also having a devastating impact on women and girls in South Sudan. According to a 2024 UN Population Fund study, 65% of women and girls have experienced some form of gender-based violence, of which intimate partner violence is the most prevalent. The UN Mission in South Sudan has also reported a steep increase in sexual violence and abductions of women and girls by armed groups in 2024.

Aware of the prevalence of violence against women by cattle youth, Lokwi speaks of confronting the issue at community meetings in his village where he brings together members of rival communities:

The youths are also part of the meeting. Everybody is given the chance from both communities to talk, and we tell them ‘stop killing women in the bush’. I tell them that women are the ones who give birth to generations, and [ask]: ‘Why do you kill women?’ [Some] will feel touched and listen and stop – but there are other individuals [for] whom killing is part of their life … They will still kill women.

Masculine expectations

In South Sudan, like many countries, masculine expectations that associate men with being the provider or protector, and with characteristics of strength, stoicism and bravery, play an important role in how men experience trauma and the coping mechanisms they use.

Men are often socialised into suppressing emotions such as sadness or hurt. As a result, alternative outlets for dealing with trauma and stress can manifest in more violent or aggressive emotions.

I have spent many years researching how societal expectations of masculinity play into the way men respond to traumatic experiences. In narratives of wartime suffering, our understanding of male trauma is often overshadowed by the association of masculinity with the perpetration of violence.

While not all men suffering from trauma respond in the same way, research by the Brazilian NGO Promundo has found that men and boys are more likely than women and girls to exhibit maladaptive coping behaviour such as risk-taking, low physical activity, withdrawal and self-harm – or violence in its multiple forms. There is also evidence that rates of alcohol and substance abuse are higher among men affected by trauma or high levels of stress.

Psychological studies suggest a link between masculine norms, emotional restriction, and PTSD symptoms. As such, men are less likely to seek help or open up to others about the difficulties they are experiencing. This in turn increases their risk of developing negative coping mechanisms.

During conflict or in situations of acute food insecurity, daily stresses through an inability to fulfil masculine expectations can become particularly acute – and lead to increasingly violent behaviour. This pattern emerges in many of the interviews conducted for the XCEPT project.

Eric, from the South Sudan state of Eastern Equatoria, lost his father when he was ten. His father was a fairly wealthy man but after his death, that wealth was passed on to Eric’s uncles on his father’s side, rather than his mother or her three co-wives. (The tradition of inheritance passing to male relatives is reflective of women’s lack of economic independence in rural South Sudan.)

Eric was then required to respect his uncles as stepfathers as they became the de facto authority over his mother, her co-wives and their children. As the oldest son, he endured years of beatings from his stepfathers, as well as witnessing violence by them against his mother.

Upon reaching adulthood, Eric said he realised he was able to escape the “catastrophic mistreatment from his stepfathers” and needed to “adventure” for his own survival. However, due to food shortages, survival meant engaging in cattle raiding.

On his first raid, his “warrior group” secured a herd of cattle by killing the cattle owner. Eric was granted four cows – but apart from one, these had to be handed over to his stepfathers. As he explained:

On my arrival, people in my village were excited to see me back without any injuries and I brought these cows. On [the] spot, my stepfathers took them. As in [the] culture of Toposa, anything from your enemies belongs to elder people. I was only left with one cow.

On his second raid, Eric secured 30 goats, of which his stepfathers allowed him to keep ten.

Aware of the suffering that this raiding had caused and now with an established reputation as a “warrior”, Eric then stepped back from raiding and used the ten goats to breed more. This gave him the resources for marriage and to start a family – but he carried the legacy of his involvement in the killings during past raids, and the knowledge that he was now a target for retaliatory violence. He explained:

So far, I have killed six enemies; hence am also included as a warrior in my community. I do not want them [the enemy] to know my name because they will kill me if they know me.

For Eric and many other men like him in South Sudan, it is difficult to show emotions such as sadness or fear, as this could be interpreted as a sign of weakness. Our researcher and interviewer, Anna Adiyo Sebit, describes the expectations placed on men in her culture: “As a man, even when someone dies, you do not shed a tear, especially in front of women. Instead, you cry from your heart inside.”

The trauma of war

Ten years ago, while conducting fieldwork in Nepal for my PhD and book, I interviewed more than 60 former members of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) to examine how their participation in the civil war – known as the People’s War – affected notions of masculinity within the armed group.

While I never asked about trauma or psychological difficulties, it became clear these were present for many of the men – just never explicitly spoken about. Instead, they would talk about their sense of disillusionment or lack of ability to fulfil societal expectations of masculinity – all the while, carefully keeping their emotions in check.

These emotions would only surface in more casual conversations over tea or food, following the formal interviews. In these moments, the men revealed a more vulnerable side – often expressing sadness, frustration, and a desire to share their more personal stories.

It was a clear shift from the displays of hardened masculinity in their narratives of the battlefield. Some of these informal exchanges hinted at signs of PTSD – for example, in their descriptions of flashbacks, sleep difficulties and short temperedness. One young man who was extremely polite and courteous became very fidgety after the end of the interview. He told me: “In the night I can’t sleep, because I hear bomb blasts inside my head.”

Another, clearly proud of his role in the People’s War, recounted his bravery on the battlefield. Yet, when he spoke of the six months of torture he had endured in police custody, his composure faltered and he struggled to hold back tears. He showed me a photo of his three-year-old child, saying: “This is why I will never return to battle.”

What I encountered was men who appeared uneasy about expressing emotions as this runs contrary to masculine expectations, but were also frustrated at a lack of outlets to tell their story.

During one interview with a former PLA member in the western district of Bardiya, I noticed a group of ex-PLA fighters gathered at the boundary of his home after they had heard an interview was taking place. As my interpreter and I were leaving, a thin man at the front of the crowd began shouting aggressively at us.

Having initially assumed his anger was directed at my presence in the area, I realised it stemmed from his frustration at not being selected for an interview. “Why does everyone always want to interview you?” he shouted at the man I had just spoken to. The former fighter’s anger, fuelled by alcohol, appeared to reflect his frustration at lacking a platform to share his own story.

From Nepal in 2016 to South Sudan in 2024, amid the violence and trauma of war and the daily expectations of masculinity associated with being a provider and protector, there appeared to be few outlets through which these men could talk freely about their emotions, tell their stories, and admit their mental health difficulties.

Many of the men interviewed in South Sudan had been involved in violent clashes involving killings at some point in their lives. In interviews carried out in Kapoeta North, a county in eastern Equatoria, some men reported having constant flashbacks to the sounds of gunshots – when they tried to sleep at night, these sounds would “become real”, stopping them getting any proper rest:

Sometimes you can wake up in the middle of the night and find yourself trembling as if these people are coming for you.

One man explained how he would get up in the night to follow a “black shadow” like a ghost. When community members would run after him to stop him, he would become “hostile and behave like he wants to kill everyone” – because, he explained, he saw his friend being killed on the battlefield and the memory of this would not leave him, especially in the night.

A woman described how, when young men are involved in “killing”, their “mind is not functioning well”. Contextualising this claim she explained: “There was this man who got traumatised due to the ongoing conflict of raiding. He fought many battles until the gunshot sound affected his brain and made him crazy.”

She then described a man who could not accept his friend had died in a cattle camp raid and insisted on returning to the battlefield, even though the community told him not to. “After confirming [his friend’s death] he ran mad and became confused. We say that such a person had his heart broken by the incident he witnessed, and we say he is mad.”

Men whose companions have been killed can become fixated on revenge, as Sebit explains, “It will torture their mind until they go and avenge the death of the person that was killed.” Some will encourage them to take revenge but others, like Lokwi, are trying to discourage revenge killings and working towards peaceful resolution of disputes through dialogue.

Societal expectations of masculinity

The link between societal expectations of masculinity, trauma and violent behaviour among men is important in better understanding ongoing insecurities in rural South Sudan. A man is supposed to own cows in order to gain respect from their community. Without these, they can be rejected – leading to feelings of isolation, despair and a fear of ridicule.

As noted by another elderly interviewee: “If a man does not go for raiding, he will be cursed by elders. [In contrast], if he comes back with cows, people will celebrate – and if he dies, people will say he died as a warrior.”

It can be a vicious circle. If you do not get cows when you raid another community, this may lead to further feelings of shame – driving the young men to put themselves at further risk. In a state of stress and having grown up in a culture of conflict, they may regard themselves as having no choice but to risk death in the quest for cows. Those who have been orphaned or do not have other family members to support them can be particularly vulnerable to this.

Such concerns about masculinity emerge in many of the interviews with young men in South Sudan – and also in discussions with support workers there. Catholic Relief Services (CRS) is one of the few organisations in South Sudan who have run trauma awareness training for men. A local CRS programme manager, Luol, explained to me in an online meeting how men’s worries about marriage rights can spiral into acts of violence:

What is actually happening in [young men’s] brains is they are thinking: ‘Okay, I am 18 or 17 years old now, in the next two years I have to have my partner at home, but I don’t have resources. [So] the best way to get resources is to raid or steal people’s properties.’ This is the thinking of war. This is the thinking of a person who has been exposed to conflict – that the best way to get resources is to raid from somebody.

In another meeting, Luol described his experience of facilitating trauma awareness programmes with men. He explained that “many of the men have participated in cattle raiding and have seen horrific kinds of events such as, seeing somebody [being] killed, and [they] can be traumatised because [they] participated in that war [raid].”

Luol described one young man who came and spoke to him after the first day of training:

He wanted to testify that he’s now recovering from his trauma because he participated in the war and he saw children and women being killed and when he returned home, he saw [in] his own children, the children who were killed, and he cried, he felt ashamed for participating and playing a part in this. And he was trying to recover from that effect of trauma. And that’s very common. Most of the young men who participate in war come back traumatised.

The importance of such outlets for men to come and talk together about their emotions was emphasised in our meeting. For cultural reasons, neither individual counselling sessions nor sessions including women would be acceptable to the men.As noted by another local CRS staff member :

If women are in that group, the men are likely not to talk about [trauma] because of masculinity issues. They don’t want the women to hear men accepting weakness or vulnerability … But if the men are talking alone [about] their life they will say: ‘Yes, this is what happened to me, and this is how we can move forward.’

While these sessions are not supposed to be a form of restorative justice or “amnesty” for crimes committed, Luol explained that opening up about feelings of guilt in the small group is helpful in addressing “displaced anger” that can manifest in continued violence in the community, clan or in the family.

CRS Trauma Awareness and Social Cohesion programmes also encourage discussions of alternatives to violence or cattle raiding, presenting a longer-term life vision for those present. According to one attendee, his less traumatised brain allows for rational thinking such as: “If I start cultivating this year and I want to marry in two or three years’ time, I’ll be able to produce the crops, sell them in the market, and then buy cows if I need to buy cows.”

The programme was piloted in South Sudan’s Greater Jonglei State in 2014 using CRS private funding. Three years later it secured funding from USAID after “demonstrating its value”. In 2020, with additional funding from the EU, the programme was expanded to areas of Eastern Equatoria. While the programme has now ended with the completion of its funding cycle, CRS continues to seek future funding to re-establish the initiative.

‘Everything gets destroyed’

While recognising that most men do not engage in violence, the reality is men are overwhelmingly responsible for violence when it does occur. This is the case in South Sudan as in all countries. It is therefore vital to engage with men, not just as perpetrators of violence but as potential peacemakers.

Unfortunately, gender stereotyping within the humanitarian and donor sector has resulted in a lack of trauma response targeted at men. Instead, men and boys tend to be framed as perpetual perpetrators of violence and discrimination – as “emasculated troublemakers” not worth engaging with, or at best by the “men can cope by themselves” narrative.

Wider research by XCEPT has found that out of 12 humanitarian organisations interviewed in northern Syria, northern Iraq and South Sudan, only two had programmes specifically targeted at men. The situation appears little changed from the conclusion reached in the 2021 Promondo report, which stated:

This de-prioritisation of boys and men in emergency response is rooted in donors’ and international organisations’ lack of political will to meaningfully acknowledge that vulnerability exists beyond women and girls … Chronic inattention to boys and men has resulted in programs, services and spaces not being sufficiently tailored to meet their needs.

This not only has an impact on men and boys’ wellbeing. It also fails to take on board the reality that unaddressed trauma among men correlates with increases in community violence, revenge killings, cattle raiding and gender-based violence suffered by women and girls. As an international CRS staff member explained:

Unless donors have a way of facing [the reality of trauma] and addressing it in all interventions, all the money we’re spending on health programs and infrastructure programs and education programs and whatever it is, it’s just money down the drain. Because eventually, everything gets destroyed in violence.

For you: more from our Insights series:

• Embracing uncertainty: what Kenyan herders can teach us about living in a volatile world

• Sexual exploitation by UN peacekeepers in DRC: fatherless children speak for first time about the pain of being abandoned

• How state agents target journalists while governments claim to protect them – stark warnings from Mexico and Honduras

To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. Subscribe to our newsletter.

Heidi Riley receives funding from the Cross-Border Conflict Evidence, Policy and Trends (XCEPT) research programme, funded by UK International Development from the UK government. (Views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the UK government’s official policies.) She also received funding from the Irish Research Council for the Nepal research mentioned. Sincere thanks to Anna Adiyo Sebit, expert researcher with Catholic Relief Services in South Sudan, for her fieldwork and other contributions to this article.