𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬’ 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲: 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲

Advocates in South Sudan have long carried the important duty of defending rights when few dared, and they remain an essential pillar of our fragile democracy. Their contribution deserves recognition. Yet recognition should not come at the expense of principles that safeguard fairness, transparency, and accountability.

The government’s recent allocation of land for an “Advocates’ City,” where each advocate is to receive a plot, is therefore not simply a gesture of appreciation. It is a decision that sets precedent. In policy terms, precedents matter because they create reference points for future allocations and shape how resources are understood, distributed, and justified.

History offers important lessons. There have been precedents where the government of the day allotted land to associations and fraternities, but these allocations were typically for office premises to facilitate collective work, not for private ownership. Another example is the allocation of land in Nyakuron South during the interim government period, where legislators, army generals, and ministers were given surveyed plots upon payment. While many were able to acquire and develop the land, those unable to do so often sold their plots, leading to private transactions far removed from the original policy intent. These experiences caution us that such decisions, however well-intentioned, can evolve into outcomes that reinforce inequality and speculation rather than serve the public good.

This is why transparency is critical. In the case of the Advocates’ City, no publicly known guidelines have been communicated. If such guidelines exist, it was the duty of the Bar Association leadership to make them public, both to educate citizens and to prevent misunderstandings. Transparency in land allocation is not a courtesy, it is a governance obligation that strengthens trust in institutions.

The broader policy question is one of priorities. In a country where many families remain displaced without adequate shelter, and where most state hospitals lack land even to accommodate on-call health workers, often relying on colonial-era buildings in disrepair, the allocation of an entire “city” to one profession sends a troubling signal. Land is not just property in South Sudan; it is livelihood, identity, and survival. When it is distributed as reward and for private ownership, the risks of exclusion, resentment, and conflict are heightened.

Moreover, advocates occupy a unique role in society. They are expected to hold government and elites accountable. If they are instead perceived as beneficiaries of privileged allocations, their independence and credibility may be questioned. This does not serve the profession, nor the wider public interest.

Silence around this issue compounds the challenge. The media has not raised it, civil society has barely engaged it, and professional voices remain quiet. Yet policy decisions of this magnitude should not pass unnoticed. Open debate ensures legitimacy, and without it, perceptions of favoritism will linger.

The issue is not whether lawyers deserve improved working conditions. They do, just as other professions do. The issue is how such improvements are pursued: through what process, with what safeguards, and in alignment with which national priorities.

South Sudan stands at a stage where policy decisions must reflect fairness, transparency, and equity. The Advocates’ City, if allowed to proceed without scrutiny, risks becoming a precedent that normalizes privilege rather than one that builds stronger institutions. This is why it deserves measured but serious public attention. I sincerely hope it will eventually get the measured attention it should have gotten.