This story was originally published by The New Humanitarian on September 9, 2025.
To many in South Sudan’s government, they are rebels bent on overthrowing the state. In most media accounts, they appear as a brutal, faceless mob with no clear grievances.
But to White Army fighters like Both Nhial, the group’s purpose is clear and just: To defend their communities against a predatory state and state-backed rival militias. “What we need is for the community to live in peace,” he said.
Drawn from the ethnic Nuer communities in the vast swamplands surrounding the Nile, the White Army is a patchwork of communitarian militias that in recent months have battled South Sudan’s military in a conflict that has displaced tens of thousands, pushed parts of the country to the brink of famine, and raised fears of a second full-scale civil war since independence in 2011.
Fighting between the militia and government forces began in March in the town of Nasir, where an adultery-related dispute sparked clashes between national soldiers – detested locally for abusive behavior – and local White Army fighters, who fought alongside opposition forces during the 2013-2018 civil war, which killed an estimated 400,000 people.
What started as a local row quickly entered the realm of national politics after the regime of President Salva Kiir accused opposition officials of instigating the attack. Last week, opposition leader Riek Machar – who has been under house arrest since March – was indicted on a slew of charges including murder, terrorism, and crimes against humanity, and suspended from his position as first vice president.
His indictment significantly ups the risk of a national conflagration. On Monday, acting opposition chairman Nathaniel Oyet released a statement calling for party members and supporters to “report for national service” and “use all means available to regain their country and their sovereignty”.
As the political crisis in Juba deepens, violence outside the capital has metastasised. Pro-government troops are battling Machar’s forces, but also local militias like the White Army, unleashing waves of aerial bombardments on their positions. The impact on civilians has been immense.
Analysts and UN officials warn that the crisis could engulf South Sudan in local uprisings, fuel widespread ethnic violence, or merge with the war across the border in Sudan, where the world’s largest humanitarian crisis shows no signs of abating.
Yet missing from much of the analysis is a clear understanding of the group at the centre of the unravelling: Who is the White Army, what drives its fighters, and how, if at all, are they linked to the political opposition?
To answer these questions, The New Humanitarian interviewed more than two dozen people, including White Army fighters and leaders, South Sudanese political officials, and regional experts.
Interviews portray a disjointed, unwieldy, and outgunned force that is nonetheless widely supported by grassroots communities at home and in the diaspora who view it as a last line of defense against encroaching state aggression.
White Army fighters see the conflict largely through the lens of ethnic identity – hardened under colonial rule and during ensuing conflicts – and feel their communities are unfairly in the crosshairs of the national government. Yet the group’s fighters have also been accused of horrific atrocities.
The White Army offers a window into popular frustration with a faltering peace process – one that many feel is irrelevant at best, and at worst has marginalised them politically, funnelled the country’s wealth into a narrow coterie of elite hands, and failed to deliver security across most of the country.
“If there was a strong government, this White Army wouldn’t have existed in the first place,” said a political analyst and conflict mediation worker from Upper Nile state, where much of the recent fighting has taken place. They asked not to be named, citing the risk of reprisals.
How the conflict started
The White Army emerged in the 1990s, before South Sudan gained independence, following a split among southern rebels fighting the Sudanese government under the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement (SPLM), according to John Young, an academic who has researched the White Army extensively.
After Riek Machar, then an SPLM commander, broke away to form a new faction, he drew support from cattle keepers among his own Nuer ethnic group by tapping into animosity between the Nuer and mostly Dinka SPLM.
In 2011, after rejoining the SPLM, Machar became the first vice president of a newly independent state. But a power struggle with President Salva Kiir, who is Dinka, sparked civil war just two years later, and Machar rebelled under the banner of a new group, the SPLM-in-Opposition (SPLM-IO). The massacre of Nuer civilians by government soldiers in Juba once again rallied the White Army to his side.
The ensuing peace process was supposed to reconcile Kiir and Machar by bringing their factions into a unity government. But the initial three-year transitional period allocated to form a unified military and hold national elections has been repeatedly extended after both sides failed to meet milestones laid out in the agreement.
Ethnic militias like the White Army, and the communities they are drawn from, feel abandoned by elites on all sides who have jostled for lucrative political positions in the capital rather than integrate their forces into a unified army to provide desperately needed security. Though a ceasefire between the two parties had, until earlier this year, mostly held, parts of the country have at times experienced greater levels of violence than during the war.
In Nasir – where the government established a garrison during the 2013-2018 conflict – unpaid and isolated soldiers frequently clashed with local Nuer youth, who viewed them as little more than thuggish occupiers.
“They raped, killed, and raided cattle,” said Samuel Dak, a 60-year-old White Army fighter from Upper Nile who was injured during a clash with the army in April. “That is not the mandate of the government.”
Dak, who is decades older than most White Army fighters, said he first took up arms in the 1980s as part of the early SPLM struggle, hoping to liberate Nasir town from the Sudanese army. Forty years later, however, he finds himself fighting the state he helped create. “A lot has changed since independence,” he said.
He accused the SPLM of becoming a “tribal militia” dominated by the Dinka ethnic group of President Kiir, and wanted the troops stationed in Nasir replaced with a better-trained force that included local representation.
“We tried to communicate our complaints,” said Nhial, “but there was no improvement.”
It was against this backdrop that the fighters said they attacked the Nasir army barracks. Then, in the aftermath of an initial clash on 3 March, news spread that a popular White Army leader had been beheaded, while barges of government troops were headed towards the town.
“They raped, killed, and raided cattle. That is not the mandate of the government.”
The next day, enraged by the alleged beheading and fearing an impending assault by the incoming soldiers, the White Army mobilised hundreds more fighters and overran the garrison, killing more than 250 soldiers including a major general, according to the government. A failed attempt to de-escalate the situation by evacuating stranded soldiers also left a UN aircrew member dead.
“[The national army] are always killing people. They are not peaceful,” said Gatwech Tuach, a 32-year-old White Army leader who was wounded during the fighting in Nasir. “So we decided to attack the barracks and just kill them all. We decided that we needed to fight.”
Cattle keepers, farmers, and fishermen
In the aftermath of the attack, Information Minister Michael Makuei – who is under US sanctions for undercutting the peace process – likened the White Army to Hamas and called on the UN and the African Union to recognise the militia as a terrorist organisation.
Yet at a field hospital near the Ethiopian border, wounded White Army fighters described themselves in different terms – not as a rebel group with national objectives, but as cattle keepers, farmers, and fishermen defending their communities.
Many said that joining the White Army – less a standing force than a locally organised patchwork of fighters that can be activated when needed – was a cultural expectation for young men in the area.
“If you didn’t go to school and you are just engaged in farming, it is obvious you’re in the White Army.”
All said they had little formal education, and most acknowledged the draw that men without job prospects have to the group, which participates in cattle raiding from other communities or attacks on government armories.
“If you didn’t go to school and you are just engaged in farming, it is obvious you’re in the White Army,” Nhial said.
While fighters emphasised the White Army’s local and defensive nature, rights groups have documented numerous atrocities committed at the group’s hands – often ethnically targeted and sometimes committed dozens of kilometres from their home areas.
In 1991, the White Army attacked the town of Bor, killing an estimated 2,000 people, mostly civilians, and raiding thousands of cattle. It was one of the “greatest humanitarian disasters” of the war, wrote Young, the academic, in a 2016 research paper, and earned the White Army “a lasting reputation for being ruthless, cattle thieves, murderers” and “beyond the control of government”.
In recent years, its forces have killed civilians, trafficked women and children, and systematically destroyed vital infrastructure, according to reports by UN-affiliated experts. White Army commanders say that such brutality is in retaliation for similar violence committed against their own communities.
“We don’t have rules that say, for example, you cannot be killed if you are a prisoner,” Tuach said. “We are tit-for-tat, an eye for an eye. It has always been like that.”
Counter-insurgency operations deepen grievances
Backed by Uganda, a longtime supporter of President Kiir, the national army has carried out dozens of aerial bombardments since March, mostly in White Army strongholds. Those strikes have targeted SPLM-IO and White Army positions, but have also displaced tens of thousands of civilians and allegedly hit a hospital run by Médecins Sans Frontières. The government has not officially taken responsibility for that strike.
Tens of thousands of civilians have fled to refugee camps in Ethiopia, while others are experiencing famine conditions in makeshift camps that aid agencies have struggled to reach.
International observers have questioned whether the military operations violate the peace agreement. But in a June interview, Presidential Affairs Minister Choul Ajongo defended the military actions, saying they were designed to preserve the state’s rightful sovereignty and “monopoly on violence”.
Government officials said troops were sent to Nasir when tensions were escalating not to reinforce the barracks but to address community complaints by rotating out problematic soldiers.
The counterinsurgency, specifically the aerial attacks, have become a source of deep resentment for White Army fighters, who feel they are being unfairly targeted, and with disproportionate force, on the basis of their Nuer identity.
Tuach, the White Army commander, accused the military of arming and fighting alongside other ethnic militia with whom Nuer communities have longstanding grievances, and of using aerial bombardments indiscriminately. Several independent researchers have echoed those claims.
“They are killing Nuer with chemical bombs,” Tuach said, referring to the military’s alleged use of incendiary weapons during early strikes in March. “It is clear that they have now made this a tribal issue.”
James Wal, a White Army leader from Jonglei state, which is adjacent to Upper Nile, said Nuer areas may need to secede if the attacks against them continue. “If the world stands by and does nothing, our only option may be self-determination,” he said.
Wal cited a government memo from March that labelled Nuer counties as either “hostile” or “friendly” as proof of government targeting. Still, he held out hope that “this was just the opinion of some people” and not the government as a whole.
Fear of ethnic targeting is felt in the capital too. On the outskirts of Juba, around 40,000 mostly Nuer displaced people live in shelters of sticks, mud, and tarpaulin, clustered around a UN peacekeeping base.
Most fled there in 2013, when civil war broke out and government soldiers went door to door killing Nuer civilians. However, earlier this year, following Machar’s arrest, thousands more sought refuge in the camp, fearing renewed violence.
Inside a makeshift office built from a shipping container, community leaders originally from Upper Nile described residents being found dead or missing around the camp. They shared photos of corpses – young men with their hands bound – discovered near the camp, though The New Humanitarian could not independently verify them. “People are afraid to leave,” one community leader said. “It is like a jail.”
“Different groups with different objectives”
During interviews in June, White Army commanders pushed back heavily on accusations that they were acting on behalf of the SPLM-IO, even if they acknowledged sometimes overlapping objectives.
A September 11 government press briefing says the White Army acted in Nasir “under the command and influence of certain leaders of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement/Army-in-Opposition, including Dr. Riek Machar Teny, through coordinated military and political structures”.
No evidence has been made public to support that charge. Some government officials, however, said privately that while Machar may not have directly commanded White Army fighters to attack the barracks in Nasir, his history of arming them and rallying them to his side makes him responsible for their actions.
White Army fighters, for their part, bristled at accusations of loyalty to faraway politicians. Many said that the incarcerated vice president had long abandoned the grassroots and had become absorbed in personal political goals.
“Machar has no command over us,” Nhial said. “No one has seen his face since the war.” Several fighters said they wanted to see both him and Kiir step down and blamed Machar’s political ambitions for the deaths of Nuer civilians.
Young described the group as “fiercely independent”, though it is influenced by different actors – politicians, generals, elders, prophets, “but isn’t answerable or loyal to any of them”.
“A key mistake of the 2018 peace agreement is that it functions as an elite deal that only benefits those at the top, leaving out the regular soldiers and allied militias.”
Others acknowledged that the government’s claim of links between the SPLM-IO and the White Army wasn’t baseless – even if nobody argued that Machar directly orchestrated the violence.
“We have a good relationship with the IO,” said Tuach, the White army leader, “but we are different groups with different objectives.” Wal, the commander from Jonglei, said that “both the White Army and the IO are defenders of the Nuer.”
Daniel Akech, a South Sudan expert with the International Crisis Group, said that in some locations the White Army is composed of significant numbers of former opposition fighters who were never integrated into the army after the war.
“A key mistake of the 2018 peace agreement is that it functions as an elite deal that only benefits those at the top, leaving out the regular soldiers and allied militias,” he said. “At the end of the war, former fighters from the SPLA-IO went back to civilian life and joined other armed locals that conduct raids and protect their communities.”
Akech said the White Army is not primarily interested in national politics, and that while the government’s real target is the SPLM-IO, it often conflates the opposition, the White Army, and Nuer communities.
While some analysts said Kiir’s regime is seeking to use the White Army to advance its political agenda against the opposition, several said the SPLM-IO leadership has also historically instrumentalised the group – and continues to do so today.
“The opposition knows that a major source of power is the White Army,” said the Upper Nile political analyst. “When you go to White Army leaders, and you advise them ‘you shouldn’t participate in [SPLM-IO objectives] it won’t benefit you,’ then the IO will be very mad at you.”
Outgunned but undefeated
In June, White Army commanders in Upper Nile said the group was enormously outgunned by government forces, and had sustained devastating casualties during its operations.
The group’s disjointed structure makes territorial victories difficult to sustain. Rather than moving as a single cohesive force, the White Army is made up of local units headed by elected leaders responsible for protecting their own communities, and who are often unwilling to fight beyond their home areas.
Wal is one of the leaders of the Lou Nuer White Army, one of the largest factions, which has largely remained out of the current fighting. In March, after the attack on Nasir, the Lou Nuer White Army sheltered fleeing government soldiers and aided their return to Juba “in the interest of peace”, he said.
Asked if he planned to enter the fight against government forces, Wal said, “we will stay and protect the community here. If we are attacked, we will fight. But for now we are for peace”. He added that another red line would be an attack against Nuer civilians in Juba.
In April, after a month of intense fighting, the militia – running low on ammunition and having suffered high casualties – left Nasir and allowed the army to retake the town. Sporadic hit and runs on the army’s positions have since prompted additional airstrikes there.
Still, in northern Jonglei state, White Army fighters have had some success by pushing government forces from some of their redoubts along the Nile.
Last month, White Army fighters under the command of the influential Nuer prophet Tut Makuach mobilised to attack a government position in Pigi, a strategic outpost in northern Jonglei. Those fighters had largely remained out of the fighting until August but now threaten to march into Upper Nile, looting cattle, humanitarian food stocks, and weapons as they go.
Some believe it’s only a matter of time before other factions, like the fighters commanded by Wal, are sucked into the fighting, bringing entire swathes of the country into full revolt.
White Army factions also receive material support – helping to sustain their operations – from within South Sudan and from individuals in the diaspora, several sources told The New Humanitarian.
Mayang Tut, a South Sudanese businessman living in the Middle East, said that earlier this year he organised support for the White Army, including first aid training, shipments of food supplies, and communications systems using imported Starlink terminals.
Tut described the Nuer diaspora as “the backbone” of the White Army, and said fundraising efforts are regularly coordinated by Nuer living abroad, though he declined to say how much is raised or how funds are delivered.
Some analysts say the war in Sudan – where the national army has been battling the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF) for more than two years – could increasingly shape the conflict, and broader events in South Sudan.
The Sudanese army suspects South Sudan’s government of growing too close to the RSF, and is believed to have supplied arms to some South Sudanese factions opposed to Juba, though there is currently no evidence of direct support to the White Army.
Some White Army leaders, like Tuach, have pledged to continue the fight until the army is defeated, whatever the cost. “We don’t recognise the government as legitimate anymore,” he said. “This is Nuer land. We will fight back until we take full control.”
Others are losing hope that a military victory is possible. Nhial said many fighters have sold their weapons to raise funds to transport their families to refugee camps in Ethiopia. “Many people have been killed. Our families have been displaced,” he said. “We will leave Nasir town for the army and look for new opportunities for our families.”
Edited by Philip Kleinfeld.
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