Africa-Press – South-Sudan. Whose progress, and at what cost? That is the question that lingers after watching Vice President Hussein Abdelbagi Akol, speaking on behalf of President Salva Kiir Mayardit at Rumbek University of Science and Technology’s graduation ceremony yesterday, declare the transfer of the historic Rumbek Senior Secondary School to Rumbek University of Science and Technology, reportedly as part of an expansion arrangement. What was presented as routine development has landed in Lakes State as something far more explosive: the state sanctioned displacement of historical memory.
This is not development. It is dispossession dressed in bureaucratic language and presidential authority. What has been announced as “progress” is, in reality, a deeply political act, the reallocation of a historic institution without transparent consent, without meaningful consultation, and without respect for the cultural and political weight that Rumbek Senior Secondary School carries in the history of Southern Sudan’s struggle and South Sudan’s fragile nationhood.
At first glance, the government’s explanation tries to appear reasonable. It acknowledges concerns, praises the school’s legacy, and promises future facilities. But this is the familiar language of controlled displacement: recognition of emotion followed by the execution of the same decision. It is not dialogue. It is instruction disguised as consultation.
The claim that this move is an “upgrade” collapses under its own contradictions. Education is not real estate. Institutions like Rumbek Senior Secondary School are not movable assets to be reassigned at will. They are historically rooted spaces where identity, political consciousness, and generational memory were formed under conditions of struggle and sacrifice.
To remove the school from its historic ground is not relocation. It is rupture. And that rupture is political. For decades, this institution has stood as more than a school. It has been part of the intellectual backbone of Lakes State and a silent witness to Sudan’s long wars, displacement, and the struggle that eventually led to independence. To now reduce it to “underutilized land” is not a technical assessment. It is a historical insult. It flattens memory into wastage and reduces heritage into surplus property.
This is how historical erasure begins in modern governance: not with bulldozers, but with language. Once “underutilization” becomes justification, no institution is safe. Everything becomes transferable. Everything becomes negotiable. Everything becomes disposable in the name of efficiency. This is not planning. It is administrative appropriation of history.
The argument also advances a false hierarchy between secondary and higher education, as though one must be sacrificed for the other to grow. That logic is not development. It is institutional cannibalism. A responsible state expands both. It does not strengthen one pillar by weakening another. If expansion is truly needed for Rumbek University of Science and Technology, then the solution is obvious: invest in new land, build new infrastructure, and plan responsibly. What is missing here is not space. It is political will and planning discipline.
Even more troubling are the vague assurances of “future relocation sites” and “better facilities.” These promises are made without timelines, without guarantees, and without enforceable commitments. Communities are expected to surrender a functioning historical institution in exchange for undefined future possibilities.
In effect, they are asked to trade certainty for speculation. And experience tells us how this ends. Across many post conflict and resource constrained states, such relocation promises collapse into delay, abandonment, or endless transition. Temporary arrangements become permanent confusion. Budgets shift. Political attention fades. And communities are left with broken promises and irreversible loss.
Lakes State has every reason to be skeptical. The idea of “temporary coexistence” between the school and the university is equally misleading. In theory, it sounds balanced. In practice, it is structural inequality disguised as cooperation. Universities inevitably attract funding, political priority, and expansion. Secondary institutions are gradually compressed, spatially, institutionally, and symbolically.
This is not coexistence. It is slow displacement without announcement. Another dangerous claim being advanced is that legacy exists independently of place. This is politically convenient but historically false. Memory may survive in people, but institutions are anchored in space. Physical location is not symbolic decoration. It is the foundation of institutional identity and legitimacy.
Across the world, historic schools are preserved in their original locations precisely because place carries authority. Remove the place, and you weaken continuity. Erase it, and you distort history. But beyond all of this lies the most serious issue: the process itself.
The reaction in Lakes State is not emotional excess. It is a political warning. It signals a breakdown in consultation, transparency, and respect for community ownership of heritage. Decisions of this magnitude cannot be delivered as post facto announcements. They require participation, negotiation, and consent. Without that, governance becomes imposition. And imposition inevitably produces resistance.
None of this is an argument against expanding higher education. Rumbek University of Science and Technology deserves investment and growth. But development that survives by displacing history is not progress. It is substitution.
There were alternatives. New land could have been secured. Expansion could have been phased. Planning could have been long term and inclusive. Those options require effort and foresight. Instead, a shortcut has been chosen, one that places heritage at risk for administrative convenience. This is the real issue: not necessity, but political choice. And choices reveal priorities.
At its core, this controversy exposes a deeper question about governance in South Sudan today: is development a shared process rooted in memory, identity, and trust? Or has it become a top down exercise where history is expendable if it obstructs administrative plans?
What is unfolding in Rumbek suggests the latter, and that should alarm every citizen. The people of Lakes State are not resisting progress. They are resisting a governance model that treats their history as negotiable and their institutions as expendable. Their message is not complicated. A nation cannot build its future by quietly dismantling its past. This is not a plea for sympathy. It is a demand for accountability. And it is a warning that cannot be ignored.
The writer, John Bith Aliap, is a South Sudanese political analyst and commentator on governance, leadership, and state building in post conflict societies. He can be reached at [email protected].
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.
Source: Radio Tamazuj
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