For many South Sudanese today, a passport is no longer a basic civic document—it is a gamble. One applies, pays the fees, waits for months, and often hears the same explanation: there are no passport booklets.
This recurring crisis, now familiar to citizens at home and abroad, is more than an administrative inconvenience. It is a symptom of deeper governance and planning failures that deserve honest public discussion.
A passport is not a luxury item. It is a fundamental tool that allows citizens to travel for education, medical treatment, employment, family reunification, and diplomacy. When a state cannot consistently provide such a basic service, it weakens public trust and undermines its own legitimacy. The official explanations are often technical—supplier delays, system failures, or logistical challenges.
While these factors exist, they mask the real root causes.
First, the passport booklet crisis is fundamentally a financing problem. South Sudan relies on foreign companies to print secure passport booklets. When payments are delayed or debts accumulate, production and delivery stop. This is not an act of sabotage by suppliers; it is a predictable business response. No company can continue producing security documents without guaranteed payment.
Secondly, there is a planning and prioritization failure. Passport demand is not a surprise. Governments know how many passports are issued each year. Running out of booklets repeatedly suggests weak forecasting, poor stock management, and a lack of contingency planning. A state that can plan elections and security deployments should be able to plan passport procurement.
Thirdly, the crisis reflects institutional fragility. Passport issuance depends on functional systems, trained personnel, and reliable coordination between the ministries of Finance, Interior, and Foreign Affairs. When systems collapse or funds are not released on time, citizens pay the price.
Finally, there is a transparency gap. Citizens often learn about shortages only after lining up for weeks. Clear public communication is rare, and accountability is even rarer. Silence fuels frustration and opens space for rumors and corruption allegations.
Behind every delayed passport is a real story: a student missing a scholarship deadline, a patient unable to travel for urgent treatment, a worker losing a job opportunity abroad, a family unable to reunite. For a country whose economy depends heavily on remittances and whose people are globally dispersed, restricting mobility is not just inconvenient—it is economically and socially damaging.
This crisis is solvable. The government should establish a ring-fenced passport fund, where a fixed percentage of passport fees is automatically reserved for booklet production and system maintenance. Passport revenue should never disappear into the general budget.
Long-term contracts with suppliers must be negotiated with clear delivery schedules and payment guarantees, reducing the cycle of emergency, last-minute crisis management.
Investment in digital systems, inventory tracking, and staff capacity would prevent sudden stockouts and improve efficiency. Just as importantly, citizens deserve regular public updates—honest timelines, not vague assurances. In the medium term, South Sudan should explore regional cooperation or limited local personalization capacity, reducing total dependence on external suppliers.
The passport booklet crisis is not about paper shortages. It is about priorities. It asks a simple question: can the state reliably deliver one of the most basic services its citizens expect?
Fixing this problem would send a powerful signal that South Sudan is serious about rebuilding institutions, respecting citizens’ time and dignity, and governing with foresight rather than improvisation.
A passport opens doors to the world. Ensuring its availability should be a matter of national pride—and national responsibility.
The writer is a political analyst and commentator on governance, leadership, and state-building in post-conflict societies. He can be reached via johnaliap2021@hotmail.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.