Taking up the responsibility: Why the new universities of Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil should not depend on the national government

By Amaju Ubur Yalamoi Ayani

“No country can really develop unless its citizens are educated,” Nelson Mandela.

(Pachodo.org) - President Salva Kiir Mayardit’s recent directive to establish the University of Yei, University of Kuajok, and the University of Aweil marks a bold expansion of South Sudan’s higher education system, for it is within the SPLM’s theoretical framework of “taking towns to rural areas.” The core aim of this policy is to decentralize learning and grant rural populations access to advanced education. However, this expansion comes at a critical time when the state’s financial fundamentals are incredibly unstable. For these new institutions to be more than just political symbols, they must discard the traditional dependency on the national government for funding. In my opinion, they need a survival model built on community ownership and regional self-reliance.

Let’s face it! The current funding model for public universities in South Sudan is rooted in an ultra-centralized administrative framework inherited from old post-colonial governance structures. Historically, the state assumed full responsibility for creating, financing, and maintaining public higher education. This top-down approach functioned reasonably well when academic systems were small, served a narrow urban elite, and relied on a predictable flow of public revenue. However, it is structurally incapable of sustaining a modern education system that seeks to democratize access to both basic and advanced knowledge, skills and civilized attitudes across vast demographic as well as geographic divides.

With the addition of Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil universities, South Sudan’s network of higher education has rapidly expanded from its initial baseline. Unfortunately, this institutional growth has occurred without a corresponding expansion of the diversification of state revenue. Launching three separate university administrations at the same time creates an instant structural deficit. For example, it will force these new institutions to compete for survival against established entities such as the University of Juba, University of Bahr el Ghazal, Upper Nile University, Rumbek University of Science and Technology, and Dr. John Garang Memorial University within a chronically underfunded national pool.

This hyper-dependence on national government strips state administrations of their operational autonomy and creates a severe bureaucratic bottleneck. When simple tasks like processing faculty payrolls, upgrading local lecture halls, or purchasing laboratory reagents require clearance from central ministries, the pace of institutional growth grinds to a halt. Centralization effectively traps these new regional campuses in a state of perpetual infancy, leaving them vulnerable to national policy shifts and bureaucratic inertia. If Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil universities are to cultivate distinct academic identities, they must break free from this legacy of absolute administrative subordination in terms of resource mobilization and utilization.

The reality on the ground: National government’s deepening fiscal crisis

The national government’s capacity to bankroll higher education is severely constrained by structural economic vulnerabilities. For example, on July 3, 2026 the Council of Ministers, chaired by President Salva Kiir Mayardit, approved SSP 11.3 trillion (approximately US$ 1.74 billion) national budget framework for the 2026/2027 fiscal year. Although I have not obtained the exact higher education allocation percentage in the framework, overall public education spending remains critically low, often at approximately 2 percent of the total budget.

In recent years, South Sudan continues to run on an unstable single-asset economy that is highly vulnerable to external shocks, conflict, and market volatility. While oil production figures intermittently bounce back—such as the recent outputs recorded by the Greater Pioneer Operating Company (GPOC)—the primary export route remains captive to the volatile geopolitical realities of the region. The conflict in neighboring Sudan directly threatens the pipeline infrastructure to Port Sudan, making regular and reliable state revenue nearly impossible to guarantee over the long term.

When national funds do hit central’s treasury, higher education is rarely at the front of the line for disbursements. The national budget is routinely crowded out by competing public priorities that demand immediate political attention. Money is consistently diverted to handle months of civil service wage arrears, military expenditures, ongoing peace agreement implementations, and immediate humanitarian crises. In this environment of fiscal triage, long-term capital investments in academic infrastructure are treated as luxuries rather than necessities.

Consequently, central budget allocations to public universities are routinely slashed to survival-level funding. These disbursements cover little more than basic staff salaries, which are themselves prone to massive macroeconomic delays that demoralize faculty and spark frequent strikes. This leaves absolutely nothing for vital infrastructure development, libraries, technological connectivity, or research endowments. Relying strictly on central guarantees that the campuses in Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil will be unable to offer anything beyond low-quality, theory-only instruction to their students.

Why community ownership?

The situation above shows that when a university relies completely on a central capital for its budget, it risks losing its organic connection to the people it is meant to serve. Transitioning the fiscal and moral responsibility toward local stakeholders changes this dynamic by fostering community resilience. It transforms the institution from an alien government outpost into a vital local asset that the community feels a direct obligation to protect, nurture, and sustain through difficult economic cycles. Under a centralized model, the university is exposed to external macro-shocks like pipeline shutdowns, whereas a decentralized approach insulates the campus through localized public-private networks.

For the populations of Warrap, Northern Bahr el Ghazal, and Central Equatoria, the survival of these universities must become a point of regional pride and economic necessity. When local communities assume ownership, they actively shield the institution from broader national crises. Local traders, traditional leaders, and municipal authorities become eager to support the campus because they understand that a functional university attracts youth, boosts local commerce, elevates real estate values, and trains the professional class their specific regions desperately need. This shifts the focus from generic academic outputs toward tailored curriculums built directly around local realities.

In addition, community ownership fosters a culture of accountability that is often absent in centrally managed systems. When local stakeholders are the primary investors, university administrators are directly answerable to the community regarding the relevance of their programs and the management of funds. This accountability ensures that the university’s research and outreach programs directly address regional challenges—such as food insecurity in Warrap or cross-border trade dynamics in Central Equatoria—rather than chasing abstract academic goals divorced from local realities.

Unleashing local economic opportunities

The founding of these universities opened unprecedented economic avenues for Central Equatoria, Warrap, and Northern Bahr el Ghazal states. Rather than acting as passive recipients of the national government’s fiscal crumbs, these states must view their new universities as powerful economic triggers. The physical presence of a campus creates an immediate local demand for off-campus housing, hospitality services, transport networks, and consumer goods. This domestic expansion offers a vital opportunity for state ministries to collaborate with local trade unions and small-and-medium enterprises (SMEs) to stimulate job growth directly outside the capital.

Moreover, the specific structural focuses outlined in the executive directive enable each state to build specialized economic corridors based on its natural strengths. Central Equatoria, anchoring the University of Yei, can establish commercial timber, fruit-processing, and cross-border trade hubs by exploiting its rich agricultural terrain. Warrap and Northern Bahr el Ghazal, through the universities of Kuajok and Aweil, can pioneer modernized livestock management, commercial grain farming, and flood-resilient engineering programs. These academic pathways give local youth high-demand skills, transforming local economies from subsistence-based models into commercial competitors.

More importantly, the surrounding communities stand to benefit from a direct transfer of technology and localized research. Instead of importing costly technical consultants, local agricultural cooperatives, municipal engineers, and healthcare clinics, local communities can use the university’s faculties to solve immediate issues. A cooperative ecosystem where a farmer in Aweil uses soil data from the University of Aweil, or a logging company in Yei finances a forestry lab in Yei, builds a circular economy. This dynamic links regional survival directly to the institutional health of the campus, transforming the states into truly self-sustaining entities.

Take entrepreneurial leadership skills from the University of Juba

To transform these local economic opportunities into reality, the incoming administrations of these universities should exhibit a specific style of entrepreneurial leadership. Traditional academic governance that waits for the national government to issue operating grants will result in institutional stagnation. The incoming vice-chancellors should behave like corporate visionaries, treating the university as a commercial enterprise focused on socio-economic transformation. This requires a deep understanding of corporate governance, asset management, and cross-sector relationship building to attract international capital independently.

The practical viability of this leadership model is best demonstrated by the recent evolution of the University of Juba. Faced with the same national treasury cutbacks, the institution aggressively diversified its revenue generation streams. It created the UniPod (University Innovation Pod) that enabled the campus to successfully bridge the gap between academic research and commercial technology transfer. Instead of crying for central funds, the administration of the University of Juba forged independent partnerships with global actors like the African Development Bank (AfDB) and the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) to launch multimillion-dollar entrepreneurship and innovation projects targeting youth unemployment. 

Also, the leadership at the University of Juba leveraged its primary physical asset—its downtown real estate footprint—and its structural prestige to launch profit-making short courses, technical certifications, and specialized consultations for corporations and international NGOs. They secured international embassy donations for modern e-classrooms while actively utilizing their internal agricultural and farm units to offset institutional costs. This self-starting approach proves that when university leaders stop acting like bureaucratic dependents and start acting like economic innovators, academic institutions can flourish even amidst deep macroeconomic fragile states.

Global examples of self-reliance

International history proves that decentralized higher education models consistently yield much more resilient institutions capable of surviving national crises. The most notable example is the U.S. Land-Grant Model, enacted via the Morrill Land-Grant Acts in the 19th century. This system granted federal land to states to establish universities, but crucially, these institutions relied on state funding, local agricultural extension services, and corporate research partnerships to grow, eventually transforming into dominant regional economic powerhouses that drove the industrialization of the American interior.

Closer to home, East Africa’s Harambee legacy offers a powerful blueprint for community-driven development. Several major educational institutions across Kenya and the wider region began as community-led initiatives where local populations pooled private funds, donated tribal land, and built initial classrooms independently long before national governments ever intervened. This grassroots foundation instilled a deep sense of local custody, ensuring that these colleges remained open and functional even during times of severe national economic downturns or political instability.

Similarly, European Technical Clusters in nations like Germany and Finland demonstrate how regional technical universities maintain deep operational ties with local manufacturing networks. In these systems, local industries co-fund research labs and specialized faculties, ensuring institutional stability and keeping the curriculum strictly aligned with regional labor demands. By adapting these global models, the universities of Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil can insulate themselves from Juba’s fiscal crises and anchor their survival in the economic engine of their immediate environments.

Conclusion

Finally, the assumption that the national government can serve as the sole custodian of higher education is no longer functional. For the newly established universities of Yei, Kuajok, and Aweil, waiting indefinitely for central bank disbursements is a recipe for operational gridlock and academic mediocrity. True institutional growth requires financial independence. State governments, business entities, and local communities must take up the responsibility. By funding and shaping their own centers of excellence, they secure both the future of their youth and the economic vitality of their states. As Nelson Mandela rightly puts it, “The power of education extends beyond the development of skills we need for economic success. It can contribute to nation-building and reconciliation.” It is now time to pull up local resources to create a country in which all our youth have access to a good education they deserve. 

About the writer

The writer is a teacher and political commentator. He can be reached via This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..