On July 22, 2025, the South Sudan Revenue Authority (SSRA) launched two initiatives with great fanfare: The Institute of Revenue Administration (SSIRA) and the Non-Oil Revenue Mobilization and Accountability Phase II (NORMA-II), a $14.3 million project funded by the African Development Bank. Framed as a national investment in revenue modernization and diversification, the ceremonies projected confidence, capacity, and reform. Yet, behind the speeches and public celebrations lies a sobering truth: these events are part of a deeper political strategy that can be described as “Fiscal Theater”—an elaborate performance of reform involving all financial institutions, including the Ministry of Finance, Central Bank, and donor-aligned revenue agencies, meant to mask systemic failure and economic decay.
This performative governance fits squarely into the logic of survival politics, not development economics. The aim is not to fix the system but to sustain elite power through symbolic action. Public launches, technocratic jargon, and donor engagement serve as shields against scrutiny and as instruments to prolong the illusion of functionality. The reported increase in non-oil revenue—from SSP 700 million in 2017/18 to 984.4 million in 2024/25—is cited as evidence of reform success. Yet, when adjusted for inflation and currency devaluation, this increase has little to no real impact on state capacity or household welfare. At today’s parallel market rate (1 USD ≈ 4,692 SSP), this figure translates to just over $209,800—an amount insufficient even to sustain basic administrative operations.
Meanwhile, the Bank of South Sudan continues to quietly try to inject liquidity into the economy by printing more money to fill fiscal gaps—a move that accelerates inflation and undermines confidence in the national currency. Yet publicly, the Bank remains in a dilemma of denial, officially rejecting claims of printing more money to finance government expenditures. This contradiction—between public denial and quiet monetization—only deepens the crisis of trust in monetary governance. The consequences are tangible. A sack of maize flour that cost SSP 8,000 in 2022 now exceeds SSP 45,000; transportation costs have more than tripled in many areas; and teachers, nurses, and soldiers routinely go unpaid for months. This dynamic is best explained by the theory of fiscal dominance, wherein fiscal pressures override monetary stability, forcing the central bank to finance government deficits through expansionary money supply—a policy path that inevitably leads to hyperinflation. According to the classic quantity theory of money (MV = PY), injecting excessive money (M) into an economy without an increase in goods and services (Y) leads directly to higher prices (P). This is no longer a theoretical warning—it is daily reality in Juba markets.
At the same time, the government deploys the language of modernity—“digital tax systems,” “transparency,” and “sustainable resource mobilization” and “National Payment Strategy”—to secure external legitimacy and maintain international funding flows. Yet these policy models, borrowed wholesale from global institutions, rarely fit the domestic context. This reflects what scholars call epistemic disjuncture: the growing gap between internationally prescribed reforms and what is institutionally possible within a rent-seeking political order. Joel Migdal’s “state-in-society” framework accurately captures this phenomenon—where state actors imitate institutional form without internalizing function, preserving systems of informal power while presenting an external image of reform.
What results is a dual economy of governance. On the surface, South Sudan boasts revenue dashboards, donor-funded institutes like SSIRA, and digital customs systems. Beneath the surface, informal taxation, elite capture, and rent-seeking remain untouched. The real problem is not that the state lacks plans; it is that those plans operate in a vacuum of political accountability. Even if tax collection improves, there is no assurance that funds will be used for public benefit. They are more likely to be captured and recycled through elite networks, as explained by Acemoglu and Robinson’s theory of extractive institutions—structures designed to enrich a few at the expense of many.
South Sudan’s political economy remains deeply rentier in character. Oil exports and donor funds have displaced the need for a developmental fiscal contract. In such systems, taxation is not a civic agreement—it is a mechanism of control. Citizens are not stakeholders in a shared national project, but subjects to be administered. That explains why even promising initiatives like NORMA-II rarely lead to improved legitimacy or service delivery.
To escape this trap, South Sudan needs more than revenue projects. It needs a fundamental political reconfiguration. First, there must be a visible and credible link between taxation and service delivery. Research from Rwanda shows that when citizens see tangible outcomes—like roads and clinics—they are more likely to comply with taxes. Second, the Ministry of Finance must move from cash-based crisis management to medium-term fiscal planning, underpinned by transparency, discipline, and public audits. Third, dollarization of key state obligations—especially public salaries—should be seriously considered as a short-term stability measure, similar to what was done in Zimbabwe and Ecuador. Fourth, the decentralization of tax collection—combined with real fiscal transfers and safeguards—could empower local governments and enhance accountability. Fifth, civil society organizations, independent media, and academic institutions must be integrated into the budget oversight and revenue-monitoring process through formal platforms.
Finally, no fiscal reform can succeed without political reform. A state cannot build a fair tax system on top of a foundation of militarized patronage, elite impunity, and ethnic capture. Structural transformation will require renegotiating the social contract, revising the constitution, and dismantling the machinery of extractive power.
South Sudan is not suffering from a lack of policy knowledge—it is suffering from a lack of institutional will. The country does not need more launches or donor-funded ceremonies. It needs consequences for mismanagement, transparency in allocations, and a shift from rent-seeking to nation-building. Until this happens, the ordinary citizen will continue to carry the weight of elite theatrics. A sack of flour will still cost more than a month’s salary, and a technocratic press release will not fill an empty stomach. The illusion of reform will persist, but the people will no longer be fooled. The theater may continue—but the audience is leaving.
The writer, Samuel Peter Oyay, is a South Sudanese political activist, strategist, and commentator with over two decades of experience in governance and management. He can be reached via samualjago@yahoo.com
The views expressed in ‘opinion’ articles published by Radio Tamazuj are solely those of the writer. The veracity of any claims made is the responsibility of the author, not Radio Tamazuj.