At a moment in our lives seemingly defined by war and natural disaster, a small asterisk of peace must now be added to the history books. On Sunday, the Sudanese government and the southern Sudan People’s Liberation Movement signed an agreement officially ending Africa’s longest war, responsible for 2 million deaths and 4 million homeless.
But, as with most examples of negotiated peace, the Naivasha Protocols are incomplete and inadequate. As Leslie Lefkow, a researcher with the Africa division of Human Rights Watch, points out in the Guardian, “There are no provisions for any kind of justice mechanism in the north-south peace accord: no truth commission or compensation for the many victims.”
As we look to the future, sustainable peace in Sudan, and around the world, will not occur unless the perpetrators of war, torture, rape and genocide are brought to justice. We cannot simply ignore the past and proclaim the present to be a new beginning. Families that are one husband, one wife or one child too small will never find peace unless justice is achieved for their loved ones.
In his Letter from Birmingham City Jail, Martin Luther King Jr. discussed the relationship between peace and justice in the context of the civil rights movement: “I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate … who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the
presence of justice.”
In southern Sudan they have negotiated for “negative peace.” We shouldn’t minimize the achievement; after two decades of war, peace of any kind is reason for celebration. But we must not forget that in western Sudan, in the Darfur region, war rages on. The same wicked government officials that dodged punishment for their atrocities in the south are currently practicing the same atrocities in the west. Will they be let off the hook again, in the name of peace?
The fight for civil rights in America also ended in a negative peace, a peace defined by an “absence of tension” and not justice. That is where we find ourselves today. Eugene is a perfect example. Our absence of tension — due to an absence of diversity — coupled with an abundance of young liberals has caused many people to mistake Eugene for a racially enlightened city. But the first two things have no causal relationship to the latter, which is why Eugene, for most persons of color, is most accurately defined by its absence of justice.
This is also why Eugene has for years been a revolving door for minority professionals, who come to the area full of hope only to leave in frustration. The latest notable exit is Marilyn Mays, the city’s first diversity coordinator and the local NAACP president. Today is her last day with the city. Mays proves that while the majority might not feel it, racial tension still exists.
Back to King from jail: “We who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open where it can be seen and dealt with. … Injustice must be exposed, with all of the tension its exposing creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.”
King’s words also apply to our inner battle with racism. Make no mistake: We all are racists. That is, we all have racist attitudes and tendencies that we must learn to unlearn — racism is not about who we are but rather how we act.
Too many so-called civil rights allies, mostly young white progressives, have a negative peace within themselves — they prefer the “absence of tension” in believing themselves to be immune to racist attitudes rather than the “presence of justice” created by owning up to inner prejudices and dealing with them openly. As a result of this racism denial, in many liberal communities white privilege passes for racial sensitivity.
I must also say that there are people from within the civil rights movement that are contributing to the problem. They have created an environment that engenders such fear of being labeled a racist that many people are afraid to admit how they really feel, not only to others, but also to themselves. This makes real healing virtually impossible.
The horrors of prolonged war can cloud our judgment. We become so desperate that we are willing to accept any form of peace. But we must remember that negative peace, whether in Sudan or in ourselves, will only breed additional violence. “Peace not war” is a valiant cry, but today I raise my voice to decree, “Justice not peace.”

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