The Court of Kiir
The churn of Juba's political web continues, with the spider at its centre—South Sudanese President Salva Kiir—continuing his Machiavellian reshuffling apace. But last week, it went up a notch, with the president stripping his apparent successor, Benjamin Bol Mel, of his titles and powers in the latest twist in the court of Kiir.
For nearly four years, the US-sanctioned fabulously corrupt Bol Mel had been considered as Kiir's chosen heir, oft-referred to as South Sudan's 'crown prince.' The term is apt—Juba's politics functions much like a medieval court, with an arrayed selection of courtiers, foreign emissaries, preening advisors, and, of course, the erratic and ageing monarch, Kiir, at its centre. Those hoping for a position in Kiir's government must play the game, and pay homage to their wildly unpopular president. Meanwhile, the extreme gluttony of the country's corrupt elite, enriched from petrodollars, smuggling and predatory checkpoints, has come at the cost of surging poverty and externalised violence of the nation's periphery-- now essentially the outskirts of the capital.
The meteoric rise of Bol Mel, appointed vice president in February, promoted to Sudan People's Liberation Movement (SPLM) First Deputy Chairman in May, and elevated to full general in September, fuelled speculation that the mercurial Kiir may have finally chosen a successor. There had been many pretenders to the throne before, generals and politicians within the corroded SPLM that believed that Kiir had fingered them for the supreme post-- and subsequently access to the levers of patronage. Bol Mel's corruption was flagrant, with the vice-president apparently responsible for the laundering of hundreds of millions of dollars as the overseer of the 'Oil for Roads' programme. And yet, such corruption is no malfunction of the system, quite the opposite, nor the reason for his ousting, as some have suggested.
Instead, the precarious nature of proximity to power in South Sudan— and Kiir's modus operandi—has reasserted itself, and Bol Mel has been cut down to size overnight. The meticulous cultivation of weakness amongst the 'attendant lords' of the shell-state threatened to be upset by Bol Mel's assertiveness, stemming from his vast accumulation of wealth and his relationship with Juba's allies in Uganda and patrons in the UAE. Now, however, Bol Mel's strength has been sapped, booted from the authoritarian National Security Service—the coercive apparatus that underpins the politics of Juba—while the central bank governor and tax authority head have been dismissed as well, both longtime allies of the Dinka politician. Who will take his place in the longer term remains to be seen.
Bol Mel had so far survived the dizzying carousel of Juba's politics, with at least 37 senior officials dismissed, reappointed, and re-dismissed since December 2024. Much of it is theatrical, with streams of announcements late into the night, ministers being brought in without their knowledge or summarily dismissed with no rhyme or reason. Controversial figures and those without constituencies are often preferred for governor and ministerial posts, preventing alternative power bases while rivals are allowed to 'expose themselves' before being marginalised.
But this encapsulates the brilliance and the curse of the Kiir government, and one that has left the country in dire straits-- and with deep structural uncertainties over Juba's future. Though the term is not much in vogue these days, the political concept of 'neopatrimonialism' remains highly relevant in South Sudan, referring to the process through which informal personalistic practices of 'patrimonialism'- a Weberian concept of traditional authority- pervades through the formal structures of the modern state. In turn, service delivery on health, education, or stability means little; all appointments and politics are tied to the patronage that flows through the patron-client networks that maintain the careful fragility of the regime and the position of an ailing autocrat. The reappointment of veteran politician James Wani Igga as vice president, a position from which he was ousted by Bol Mel's rise just 9 months prior, encapsulates the farcical and cyclical nature of Juba's political theatre.
Such theatre is perhaps nowhere more evident than in the show trial of Riek Machar, taking place in the somewhat ironically named 'Freedom Hall.' For several weeks, Machar and 7 senior SPLM-In Opposition (SPLM-IO) leaders have stood trial in an unconstitutional special court over charges including treason, murder, terrorism, and crimes against humanity. No one believes that the much-diminished Machar was somehow responsible for his alleged crimes, the 'orchestration' of the White Army's resistance, a coalition of Nuer self-defence militias, in Nasir County in March, to the government's brutal repression and offensive. Machar's own star amongst the Nuer has badly faded in recent years, and the much-abrogated post-civil war 'peace agreement' from 2018 has systematically curtailed his influence. And this year, Kiir, as ever, spied an opportunity to further reduce the peace accord, falsely painting Machar as a mastermind behind the White Army and obscuring Juba's own role in precipitating violence across the country.
But the 'show trial' hardly resembles the efficiency or ruthlessness of its Soviet counterparts, with much of Machar's prosecution veering into parody. Under house arrest for months, his defence lawyers were refused permission to meet with him, and there have been unending adjournments since proceedings began on 22 September. Again, the intention is abundantly clear: the regime aims to keep Machar legally entangled well into 2026, preventing him from mobilising his remaining political base or participating in any of the nominal elections next year, should they ever come to fruition. But no one should be surprised either if Kiir suddenly opts to pardon Machar, as has been rumoured in recent days, to present himself as somehow a moderate politician or peacemaker.
And against this backdrop, the state of South Sudan has all but unravelled-- and has been for some time. Again, one could draw reference to a feudal system of venal power at the centre and violently negotiated and dispensed patronage around it. And as Kiir's political meddling persists, armed clashes between his army and the remaining vestiges of opposition continue. While there are deep rivalries within the Dinka elite, the unpaid, demoralised South Sudanese army-- built off a Dinka core-- has not visibly fractured. But with the dwindling supply of petrodollars, the army's control of the riverine checkpoints in Upper Nile and Jonglei has become a central financial lifeline for the government. And so clashes in Upper Nile, Western Equatoria, and across much of the country have accelerated this year, while the dire humanitarian situation continues to deteriorate further. The latest Integrated Food Security Phase report, released in early November, projects that over half the population will face crisis or worse levels of hunger during the 2026 lean season.
Bol Mel's dismissal and Machar's trial are two sides of the same neopatrimonial coin. South Sudan is in a state of suspended collapse, ripe for revolution and unrest and yet somehow Juba's labyrinthine, chaotic, perfomative politics endures, while foreign diplomats seemingly cling to a hope of a better future post-2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement and post-2011 independence. Optimism over the eventual secession of South Sudan from Sudan-- now, too, grappling with civil war and devastation--papered over the political decay of the SPLM, and the capture of subsequent state organs by Kiir's cabal.
At 74 and in poor health, Kiir presides over a system that cannot survive his death, but at the same time, cannot succeed under his continued rule. No successor holds either the legitimacy or the tactical acumen to maintain the delicate, destructive balance that has sustained his regime. South Sudan possessed at independence advantages few post-colonial states enjoyed: vast oil reserves, a small population, overwhelming international goodwill, and a liberation movement that once commanded genuine legitimacy. Today, that these advantages have been so comprehensively squandered is an indictment of both the South Sudanese leadership and the regional and international architecture that enabled it.
The Horn Edition Team
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Apathy pervades the Djiboutian population. A week tomorrow, on April 10, the country will head to the polls, with President Ismaïl Omar Guelleh seeking a 6th— essentially uncontested — term in office. With his coronation inevitable, his family's dynastic rule over this rentier city-state will be extended once more. But in a region wracked by armed conflict and geopolitical contestation, the ageing Guelleh's capacity to manage the familial, ethnic, and regional fractures within and without grows ever more complicated. And Djibouti's apparent stability is no product of institutional strength, but rather an increasingly fractious balance of external rents and coercive control-- underpinned by geopolitical relevance.
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Once on the US-designated terrorist sanctions list, it is unsurprisingly rather difficult to come off it. And with the US designating the 'Sudanese Muslim Brotherhood' as terrorists, elements of Khartoum's military government may now have the dubious honour of being on it twice. First time out in 1993, Khartoum was deemed a US State Sponsor of Terror in the wake of a raft of jihadist plots linked to the Islamist authorities in Sudan. Nearly three decades later, and only after Sudan's partial ascension to the Abraham Accords, the title and punishing sanctions were lifted for the civilian-military transitional government. Today, though the warring Sudan is no longer home to an Osama bin Laden or Carlos the Jackal, a US labelling of 'terrorist' has returned to Khartoum.
At the end of February, Ethiopian PM Abiy Ahmed departed on a rather unusual visit to Baku, Azerbaijan. Slated as a meeting between two emerging powers, a focus on trade and investment frameworks was particularly emphasised by Foreign Minister Gedion Timotheos. More importantly, of course, was the signing of a comprehensive defence agreement by the two countries on 27 February. Spanning drone technology, armoured vehicles, artillery shell production, and air defence, the new agreement builds upon a framework from November 2025, which also included reference to refurbishing T-72 tanks, electronic warfare, and military-industrial manufacturing. Though war has not yet returned to Tigray as many feared, Abiy's vision of a militarised domestic —and regional —posture no doubt requires more hardware.
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