Dr. Sunday de John raises a valid warning about the dangers of rumors and the need for responsible public discourse. However, I respectfully disagree with his central argument that the concerns raised about the president’s health are merely a political weaponization. The health of a sitting head of state is not a private matter alone; it is a legitimate public interest issue simply because it directly affects governance and national stability. Dr. Sunday’s implicit dismissal of the concerns raised by the People’s Coalition for Civil Action (PCCA) risks overlooking a critical distinction: the difference between malicious speculation and constitutionally grounded concern.
If you take a careful reading of the PCCA statement, you would notice that the PCCA’s position is not rooted in opposition or hostility but in constitutional reasoning. They explicitly reference Articles 102(d) and 103(6–8), calling for a formal, institutional process—not a public diagnosis. Their argument is straightforward: when questions arise about the capacity of a sitting president, the law provides a mechanism to resolve them transparently and professionally. That is not a “witch-hunt”; it is an appeal to the rule of law.
In fact, if we are to be consistent, such a process should not even have been initiated by civil society. It is the responsibility of the Revitalized Transitional National Legislative Assembly (RTNLA) to act proactively in matters that concern national stability. If we truly care about Salva Kiir Mayardit and the future of South Sudan, then institutional reassurance—not silence or defensive denial—should be the norm.
History offers many precedents where concerns about a leader’s health were initially dismissed as political attacks, only for later events to prove that transparency would have served the nation better. In Nigeria, the prolonged absence of Umaru Musa Yar’Adua due to illness (2009–2010) created a constitutional crisis because there was no clear communication about his condition. Governance stalled, and uncertainty spread across the country. Similarly, secrecy surrounding the health of Muhammadu Buhari during his repeated medical trips abroad fueled speculation and weakened public confidence in leadership.
Beyond Africa, the case of Franklin D. Roosevelt illustrates another dimension: his declining health toward the end of his presidency was largely concealed from the public, raising long-term questions about transparency in leadership at critical moments of governance. More recently, public debate around the health and cognitive fitness of Joe Biden has not been silenced as “hatred” but addressed through official medical reports to maintain public trust.
These discussions, while sometimes uncomfortable, are not automatically acts of hostility; they are part of democratic accountability.
These examples demonstrate a consistent principle: raising concern about a leader’s health is not inherently political—it becomes political only when institutions fail to respond transparently.
In the context where the physical appearance of our president clearly tells of his illness, the position taken by the People’s Coalition for Civil Action (PCCA) should not be dismissed outright. Their call for a medical assessment for the president, whether one agrees with the method or not, can reasonably be interpreted as a concern for the country’s leadership capacity.
Conflating concern with hatred or opposition is a dangerous pattern that has deeply affected our political culture. In South Sudan today, pointing out a problem—no matter how evident—often invites accusations of disloyalty, opposition, witch hunt, you name it. Meanwhile, defending even the most obvious issues that require no defense has become a pathway to appear loyal and gain favor. This culture has created a dangerous inversion of values, where truth is subordinated to allegiance.
The consequence is not merely internal dysfunction; it affects how the nation is perceived globally. When citizens are seen to deny visible realities and attack those who raise legitimate concerns, the country risks becoming a subject of ridicule rather than respect. We do not strengthen our image by suppressing questions; we strengthen it by answering them with clarity and confidence.
To be clearer: wishing ill health upon any leader is unacceptable and morally indefensible. But raising concern—especially in a constitutional and civic context—is not hatred. It is, in fact, a form of responsibility. President Salva Kiir Mayardit, like any human being, deserves dignity. But dignity is not preserved by silence—it is preserved by honesty, lawful process, and institutional integrity.
The PCCA’s call, in my view, reflects concern rather than conspiracy. If anything, it exposes a gap: where institutions should have acted first, they remained silent. That silence is what turns concern into controversy.
If we are to build a mature political culture, we must learn to distinguish between malice and concern, between rumor and inquiry, and between loyalty and blind defense. Only then can we protect both the dignity of our leaders and the integrity of our nation.
The writer, Diing Deng Mou, is a political activist, former political prisoner, co-founder, and current chair of the 7 October Movement. He can be reached via diingmouaguer@gmail.com.
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.