South Sudan: After the Euphoria of Independence, the Anti-Climax of Reality
27 November 2012
opinion
Juba - In July 2011 South Sudan took charge of its own destiny. SIMON
ALLISON reports on the state of the world's newest nation.
A new country isn't a new toy. It isn't a new computer that you unwrap from
its box, all shiny and modern and clean. You don't plug it into the wall,
switch it on and live happily ever after. A new country, almost by
definition these days given the long-established hierarchy of states, means
quite the opposite: it means that something, somewhere, has gone very badly
wrong. A new country is a damaged country, a broken country, a country that
is starting again from scratch.
Welcome to South Sudan.
To call it a country stretches the definition somewhat. The government has
barely any money. Its authority spreads only as far as it can enforce it
(which isn't far at all, especially during the rainy season when most of the
country becomes impassable). Borders, especially with Sudan, remain hazy and
ill-defined.
But it has a flag, an anthem, a president and even a place in the United
Nations general assembly; urban legend in Juba has it that when South
Sudan's delegation first arrived in New York, panicked UN staffers had to
rush out and buy chairs in order to squeeze them in. After their long
struggle against the Sudanese regime in Khartoum, the rebels have become the
governors.
Their seat, the centre of their limited authority, is Juba, South Sudan's
capital and commercial hub. It's a basic, low-rise town of cheap buildings
and high walls, the paint everywhere cracking under the relentless heat. The
main roads are tarmac, but they don't extend all that far, and even this is
a vast improvement since independence day last July, when it was widely (if
not exactly accurately) reported that there was just 60km of concrete road
in the entire country. This number is a lot bigger now.
Still, big 4x4s are the vehicle of choice for the nouveau riche - the
fighters-turned-fatcats and the returning diaspora - and international aid
workers, who know that it doesn't take long for the tarmac to run out. For
everyone else, there are minibuses or the ubiquitous boda-bodas: motorcycles
that will take you anywhere you want (and sometimes places you don't) for a
few South Sudanese pounds. It is remarkable how clean the boda-bodas are; in
fact, how clean all the vehicles are, despite the ever-present dust.
Windscreens gleam, bonnets shine, rims sparkle. On every street corner is a
young man with a bucket of soap and a pressure hose attached to a portable
generator.As every passing truck kicks up another cloud of dust, it's a
Sisyphean task.
Along with the boda-bodas, generators are another constant of life in Juba.
The city provides no electricity whatsoever. Every watt must be produced
with the aid of loud, smoky motors and expensive diesel. You can't escape
the Juba hum, a constant buzzing in your ear at all times of day and night,
except if you stay in a certain cheap hotel, which thoughtfully cut the
power (and the air-conditioning - not so thoughtful) at 11pm every evening.
And except if you live, as do most people, out of the centre of Juba; as you
head out into the surrounds, the city becomes noticeably poorer, and the
generators used more sparingly. This holds true for the rest of the country.
The further from Juba you go, the less developed its likely to be.
The plan is to change all this, of course. The biggest reason for the long
civil war was that the south was marginalised by the north, which excluded
southerners from real political power and used the south's wealth
(especially the oil wealth, when it came along) to fund the opulent
lifestyles of Khartoum's elite, and to buy the quiescence of the citizens of
the north with lots of investment and subsidies. The south was an
irrelevance.
Now the south is in charge of its own destiny, and so far it's not going all
that well. Sure, the superficial indicators of wealth are present: the
glossy new banks, the western-style supermarkets, the overpriced hotels and,
of course, those plush 4x4s. But it's yet to trickle down.
Clement, 28, is a boda-boda driver, born and raised in Juba. He's not happy:
"There is lots of money here, but if you want some, you need big friends.
Only big friends will give you jobs." Big friends are people with money and
connections, and they are far more important still than education and
experience (which anyway is in short supply).
The government, meanwhile, is running on empty itself. More than 90% of its
revenues come from oil, and since January it hasn't pumped a barrel due to
on-going quarrels with the north. It's done its best to try and collect
taxes for the first time, and impose customs duties, but this was never
going to come close to plugging the gap. For several months, government
salaries have not been paid, and all forms of social assistance have been
suspended (A notice in the Ministry of Finance and Economic Planning told
people who usually received social grants to stop asking for them, as they
were becoming "annoying".)
In theory, this should change soon. A deal was struck with the north in
September, and the oil taps are in the process of being switched on.
This will bring in lots of new money, which should revive the stagnant
economy. First on the agenda is building infrastructure, especially
electricity. Without electricity, industry and entrepreneurship are
essentially dead. One official from the ministry of finance gave me a great
example: without electricity, a man who has cows just has cows.
With electricity, a man who has cows can make ice-cream. And everybody likes
ice-cream. The second priority is developing agriculture. South Sudan is a
vast, sprawling country, most of which is in the lush, fertile Nile river
basin. Managed properly, South Sudan could be the bread basket of east
Africa.
The one thing the government is not doing is worrying too much about
developing its own industry and manufacturing sectors. A flood of cheap
imports and skilled labour from neighbouring countries, especially Ethiopia,
Kenya and Uganda, has made it virtually impossible for South Sudanese to
compete. So they're not even trying: implicit in their bid to join the free
trade area of the East African Community is a recognition that South Sudan
is not going to be an industrial or manufacturing powerhouse in the near or
medium term. Instead, removing tariffs will merely make the imports even
cheaper (and, incidentally, eliminate the government's only non-oil revenue
stream). This is not a problem, says the finance ministry, because
eventually South Sudan's agriculture will be producing enough to export, and
the free market will work in their favour.
I am sceptical. Such a gamble requires a strong, visionary leadership that's
willing to put in the necessary hard work to reap the eventual rewards. This
doesn't square with my impression of the current government, which like the
country, is still finding its feet.
Bureaucracy and red tape are a nightmare, and petty corruption is rife.
More damaging is the evident lack of coordination between different
ministries, and the lack of defined roles. This leads to infighting and
power struggles, and means that actually getting things done is a long,
difficult and arduous process. A simple case in point: when South Sudan
imposed its oil boycott last year, the president promised to build a new
pipeline through Kenya which would free South Sudan of its reliance on
Khartoum. He promised to have it up and running in nine months. This was
always an ambitious time scale, but it's been 11 months, and a contract has
yet to be signed. If government can't even make progress on this - a matter
of urgent financial and political importance - then how can they be expected
to develop the more mundane areas of governance: education policy, say, or
rural development?
For now, many of these functions have been delegated in practise to
international aid organisations. The UN presence in Juba is huge; it
occupies several large compounds, one of which resembles its own small town,
albeit one made up entirely of rectangular pre-fabricated containers.
The relationship between the international community and the government is
generally friendly, although it has its difficult moments. Earlier this
month, a UN official was expelled for writing a report criticising South
Sudan's human rights record. According to every government source I spoke
to, the issue was not about whether or not human rights abuses are committed
- everyone acknowledges that some soldiers, after decades fighting in the
bush, haven't learned to tone down their tactics - but that the government
would prefer not have these abuses pointed out to them.
Granted, all these problems are teething issues. As I said before: a new
country is not a new toy. It is damaged goods, and a lot of time and blood
and sweat will go into repairing the ruptures of South Sudan's history.
It was never going to be an easy process, and it was inevitable that after
the euphoria of independence the reality of self-rule would be an
anti-climax. And perhaps it is too early to rush to judgment. So far,
however, independence has not proved to be the panacea that South Sudanese
were hoping for.The only difference is that this time there's no one to
blame for their problems but themselves - which, I suppose, is the point.
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Received on Tue Nov 27 2012 - 19:51:41 EST
