In South Sudan, governance has apparently never been according to the constitution. Orders signed, stamped, and announced in a decree in Juba have often directed the affairs of the state. Fifteen years since independence, therefore, South Sudan does not have a governance crisis; the country has a decree crisis. In this country, the law does not come from parliament; it comes from a paper signed at night. Governors are made and removed by decree. Ministers are appointed and dismissed by decree. Budgets are changed by decree. Maps are redrawn from 10 states to 28, then 32, and back to 10 by decree. It is also widely believed that even war and peace are announced by decree.
The continued use of decree in politics has created two South Sudans and one state: the same state that gained independence from the Sudan in 2011, the Republic of South Sudan. In the one South Sudan, those in power. They call it governance by decree. To the ordinary South Sudan, it is the politics of decrees, and it is killing the state. To them, a real state is built on institutions: a parliament that makes laws, courts that interpret them, and a civil service that implements them. In South Sudan, these are all largely skipped.
The questions asked are simple but critical. Why build a strong Ministry of Finance when someone seated in Juba can waive taxes by decree? Why empower a governor when Juba can fire them by decree? Why respect a court when the next decree can override it?
The result is a state that is an empty shell, and civil servants who do not plan. They wait. Investors who do not invest. They lobby. Citizens who do not demand services. They beg. A state that runs on orders cannot survive without the person giving the orders. It becomes more or less like a property.
When you observe, you realize that land is given by decree. Oil blocks are given by decree. Governors and county commissioners are oftentimes rotated nearly every 6 months by decree. The goal is not service. The goal is loyalty. So, hospitals have no medicine. Civil servants are not paid. Roads are not built, but contracts are signed. Even the military is not paid. Such a state finds it hard to build a strong national army capable of protecting its borders from external threats.
When citizens see this, they stop believing. They ask: “If the state is not for me, why should I be for the state?” That is how you get militias, self-help groups, and a people who rely on NGOs for humanitarian help instead of on their government. Is this not a direction towards state failure?
While those sitting in Juba may not feel the actual cost of the decrees, the cost in the villages, bomas, payams, and counties is real. Go to Kajo-Keji. A farmer does not know if his land is in South Sudan or Uganda because, since the independence of South Sudan in 2011, the border was never demarcated. In Juba, the farmer is told the land “belongs to South Sudan” and that he or she should “protect it. It is Kajo-Keji County. Protect it…”
The next day, Uganda comes and attacks the same farmer, and his entire community is either displaced or killed because Uganda is claiming the same land. When such happens, the same government in Juba keeps silent. Soldiers of South Sudan are killed, civilians of South Sudan are killed, and communities are displaced while protecting the land, and no government in Juba ever helps. The same is happening in Magwi, Nadapal, Raja, and many other locations.
Go to Bentiu; flood victims depend on relief while the water rises. No government support. Go to Wau. A trader is arrested because one security officer follows one decree, and another follows a different one. That is how the politics of decrees operate. In principle, the decrees have centralized power in Juba and decentralized suffering to the counties and communities.
History has taught us that decrees are useful in emergencies, but the continuous use of decrees in daily life is a poison. It has killed nations. No country is built by press statements and dismissal letters. Countries are built by laws, elections, budgets, and accountability.
If the leaders of South Sudan are serious about saving what remains of this young nation, they must do these four things now.
1. Let parliament legislate. Stop bypassing the people’s representatives.
2. Let courts check power. No decree should be above the constitution.
3. Devolve authority and money. Let states and counties govern. Juba cannot run everything.
4. Hold free and fair elections. Let citizens choose leaders, not have them imposed by decree.
The politics of decrees have given South Sudanese the illusion of a state. In reality, it gave individuals titles, offices, and cars. It did not give the citizens schools, healthcare, security, or justice.
Truth be told. The pen cannot build South Sudan. What South Sudan needs is functional institutions, trust, and the consent of the people. After 15 good dark years, South Sudanese are saying we are tired of waiting for the next decree. The people of Kajo-Keji are saying we need a government that knows its borders and protects them. Flood victims are saying, “develop a flood mitigation plan and implement it.”
The author is a concerned South Sudanese. The views and opinions expressed are his and do not represent the official position or policy of any institution, organization, employer, affiliate, or association with which he works or collaborates.
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.
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