We want peace and development in all 10 states of South Sudan -

“We want peace and development in all 10 states of South Sudan – we don’t want military backing.” Thus spoke Ger Duany, actor, activist, and one-time child of war, whose life itself is a testimony of struggle and survival. In his words resounds the voice of a people who have known too much suffering, too much displacement, too much hunger, and yet still dare to dream of peace. His declaration is not only a cry for his homeland, but also a lesson for all humanity: that true progress is not born of guns, but of development; not of soldiers, but of schools and farms; not of military power, but of dignity restored.

The meaning of this saying lies in the choice between two futures. On one hand stands the path of military backing, a road South Sudan has walked for decades—rebellion, civil war, massacres, endless cycles of blood. On the other hand lies the road of peace and development, where resources are spent not on weapons, but on hospitals, roads, and education. Ger Duany’s wisdom is to remind us that the strength of a nation does not lie in the size of its army, but in the well-being of its people. Peace is the soil in which every harvest grows; without it, no development can take root.

The ancients taught the same lesson. The prophet Isaiah once cried, “They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.” He spoke to a world obsessed with war, reminding it that only when weapons are transformed into tools of creation can nations flourish. Ger Duany’s words echo this ancient prophecy: South Sudan, and indeed all nations, must turn from the fire of war toward the light of building and renewal.

History, too, bears witness. After the devastation of World War II, Europe lay in ruins. Its cities bombed, its people starving, its faith broken. Yet instead of clinging to military solutions, leaders chose development—the Marshall Plan, the rebuilding of industry, the creation of shared institutions. Within a generation, enemies became allies, and Europe rose from ashes to prosperity. What was possible for Europe is possible for South Sudan: the transformation of swords into plowshares, of warriors into builders.

Yet Duany’s words come from a place of deep experience. As one of the “Lost Boys of Sudan,” he fled violence as a child, walked hundreds of miles, survived refugee camps, and carried with him the scars of war. He knows what military backing truly means: not stability, but more orphans; not safety, but endless trauma. His voice carries the authority of suffering, but also the authority of hope. For he returned not to wage war, but to call for healing, for education, for development in all the 10 states of his fragile homeland.

The lesson for us is not limited to South Sudan. In every nation, in every community, there is the same temptation: to trust in force instead of reconciliation, to choose the quick answer of arms instead of the patient labor of peace. But Duany reminds us that the lasting victory is not to dominate an enemy, but to create a society where children may grow without fear, where families may flourish, where opportunity replaces despair. Development is the true fortress of a people; peace is its strongest shield.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, remember Ger Duany’s wisdom: refuse the false promise of war. Let your leaders know that guns cannot feed the hungry, that soldiers cannot build roads, that armies cannot heal the wounded heart of a nation. Choose instead the harder path—the path of peace, of rebuilding, of development. For though this path is long, it is the only one that leads to lasting freedom. And when all 10 states of South Sudan, and all nations of the earth, commit themselves to this path, then humanity will finally dwell in the security it has long sought—not by the sword, but by the plow.