Poorly disposed off garbage on one of Juba’s streets.
I have always loved clean and organised spaces. Thereβs a calm that comes with them, a sense of order that sharpens my mind. On the days I leave home tidy, my thoughts flow with clarity, and I often find myself more productive and patient. But the few times Iβve rushed out leaving my home in disarray, the day almost always mirrors that chaos. Things scatter, time slips, small problems magnify, and I return in the evening only to be greeted by the same disorder I carried with me all day.
I have also noticed something else. Whenever a home or office is dirty, arguments sprout easily. People snap at each other over little things. Chaos thrives where cobwebs and clutter are allowed to reign. But in clean, ordered spaces, even modest ones, disagreements soften. People breathe easier, listen longer, and find solutions faster. Hygiene and order are not about vanity. They are about harmony of the mind and community.
Now imagine this truth at the level of a nation. Too many of those entrusted with running South Sudan live in disorganised homes. Cobwebs in the living rooms, dirty bathrooms, garbage tossed carelessly, the same cup passed around for water, are all what characterise their homes. If disorder is normal at home, is it any wonder that our public life mirrors the same? That traffic officers are chosen not by competence but by kinship? That implementing a peace agreement has failed? That garbage fills streams or spaces under bridges, or that spitting in public is seen as nothing unusual? Disorganisation, left unchecked, becomes a governing philosophy.
The reset South Sudan needs begins not with decrees or slogans, but with households where every member owns a duty: sweeping compounds, disposing of waste properly, rising early to leave a clean home, making every dwelling livable. For when our homes are schools of order, our communities will inherit clarity, and with clarity, we will resolve conflicts with reason rather than fists or guns.
In the end, nations are only reflections of the homes we keep. If you want to know the future of South Sudan, look first at the state of its living rooms and compounds.
In every professional setting, whether a grassroots movement, a nonprofit collective, or a high-powered corporate boardroom, certain behavioural patterns quietly but consistently undermine progress. This is an observation I have made over the years while working on different initiatives. Some individuals join teams with enthusiasm, only to withdraw or obstruct when their ideas are challenged or their influence is curbed. Others are drawn not by the mission but by the magnetism of power, seeking status rather than substance. While their methods differ, both types often leave similar wreckage in their wake: confusion, stalled progress, demoralised teams, and missed opportunities.
Take the case of Michael, a seemingly committed team member in a regional health campaign. At the outset, he was vocal, eager, and always present. But when the team collectively decided on a different outreach strategy than the one he proposed, Michael grew distant. He began missing meetings, citing sudden travel or urgent obligations elsewhere. When reached, he would offer vague promises to “circle back” or “review things later,” though deadlines came and went without his input. When he did resurface, it was usually with objections, never paired with constructive suggestions, just enough to stall decisions and send the team in circles. Slowly, a pattern emerged: Michael showed up most when the project seemed on the brink of collapse, ready with just enough knowledge and flair to βsaveβ the day, reinforcing his perceived indispensability.
This behaviour is not uncommon. Such individuals; what we might call quiet saboteurs, thrive on the illusion of being essential, but only when their dominance is unchallenged. When their ideas are overridden or when others rise in influence, they disengage in subtle, plausible ways. They do not openly resist; they quietly manipulate by delaying, obstructing, and complicating. Their arsenal includes strategic unavailability, performative busyness, and timely interjections that destabilise rather than enhance.
The toll of such behaviour on teams is significant. Progress slows, morale wanes, and trust disintegrates. Other team members find themselves scrambling to fill gaps, resolve avoidable complications, or rework deliverables that would have otherwise been completed efficiently. Over time, the team begins to second-guess itself, anticipating obstruction even in straightforward matters. Meanwhile, the saboteur robs themselves of growth. By refusing to engage honestly with challenges or collaborate respectfully, they miss opportunities to deepen their skills and earn genuine respect. The pressure of maintaining a facade of relevance eventually breeds stress, resentment, and isolation.
Then there are the Empty Thrones; individuals who seek positions of authority but flee from the responsibilities those roles demand. Consider Agatha, a founding member of a women-led advocacy group. She insisted on being named chairperson and frequently reminded the team of her seniority and experience. Yet, she rarely prepared for meetings, seldom followed through on action points, and often deferred decisions to others under the guise of βdelegating.β When the team produced a well-researched policy brief that attracted media attention, Agatha rushed to be the face of the success, speaking publicly as though she had led the effort. When feedback came suggesting improvements to the groupβs internal processes, she was the first to criticise the βlack of coordinationβ and point fingers to others, never herself.
This behavior, too, is familiar. Such individuals are drawn to the prestige and visibility of leadership but not the accountability it demands. They conflate being in charge with being above reproach and often assume that their presence alone qualifies as contribution. They resist learning, avoid hard conversations, and invest little in their teams’ development. Their sense of entitlement is rarely matched by competence or consistency.
The damage they do is no less profound. Teams become directionless, roles blur, and contributions go unacknowledged. Those who work hard behind the scenes feel unrecognised or worse, overridden. Innovation is stifled when those with ideas fear criticism from disengaged yet vocal figureheads. And as for the empty-throne leaders themselves, their reputations gradually tarnish. Peers begin to see through the performative leadership. New opportunities bypass them in favor of those who have proven substance behind their stature.
Collectively, the actions of saboteurs and figurehead leaders exact a heavy cost. Organisations lose momentum. Team culture erodes. High performers often burn out or leave. Promising initiatives stall for reasons that have little to do with capacity or resources, and everything to do with interpersonal sabotage and leadership voids.
But there is an alternative; an emotionally intelligent way of working that centers integrity, empathy, and shared purpose. It begins with self-awareness. Those who sincerely wish to grow must routinely reflect on their behaviour: Am I contributing or controlling? Am I reacting to challenge with withdrawal or with curiosity? Am I hiding behind excuses or showing up honestly, even when things don’t go my way?
Accountability is equally vital. Professionals must commit to doing what they say they will do, and communicate proactively when things change. Rather than manipulating perceptions to appear overburdened or irreplaceable, itβs far more constructive to acknowledge limits, request help when needed, and keep the team informed. This builds trust far more than grandstanding ever could.
Constructive communication must replace subtle sabotage. Raising concerns is healthy but only when it comes with solutions or a willingness to respectfully help implement change. Criticism, when offered, should be respectful and specific, aimed at building rather than belittling. And true leadership, regardless of title, must be rooted in service. The best leaders measure their success by the confidence, competence, and cohesion they foster in their teams.
Finally, continuous learning must be a hallmark of any professional who hopes to grow in influence and effectiveness. Leadership is not a reward; it is a daily practice. Those who commit to learning, to staying curious, and to modelling humility become not only more capable but more inspiring.
In the end, what a team achieves is not merely the product of resources or strategy; it stems from character and culture. While saboteurs and empty-throne leaders may temporarily wield influence, it is the emotionally intelligent, humble, and consistently present professionals who make a lasting impact. They build trust, inspire commitment, and drive teams to deliver not just outcomes but true transformation. As challenging as it may be at times, let us all confidently choose the emotionally intelligent path that leads to meaningful change.
Koiti Emmily 