*Mr. President, Listen to the People’s Cadence*
By Oumar Farouk Sesay
A flurry of press releases—some defensive, some accusatory—flooded the media the moment the guarantors of the tripartite arrangement issued their communiqué to restore calm after the disputed 2023 election. Read closely, the language is not mere commentary; it is choreography. Each release signals a widening rift between government and opposition—one that, if left unchecked, could damage Sierra Leone’s democratic credibility long before 2028.
These statements are battle lines drawn in the sand, each daring the other to cross. If Sierra Leone sleepwalks into that duel, the masses will once again become cannon fodder—provoked, mobilized, and bruised—while the architects of conflict speak from podiums, safely removed from the consequences.
What makes this moment uniquely dangerous is not simply the heat of the rhetoric. It is the direction of the argument: the Constitution is being dragged into the contest as a weapon.
Sierra Leoneans have spoken—more than once—about what they want changed and what must remain protected. Through the Peter Tucker constitutional review process and the Edmond Cowan commission, citizens voiced their hopes, fears, and demands across the country. Those recommendations may not be perfect, but they carry something no party communiqué can manufacture: the cadence of the people’s voice.
Now we face a familiar risk: that after citizens speak, political actors “interpret” their words until the outcome aligns with a partisan agenda.
We must return to first principles. The Constitution is not a party manifesto. It is not a tool for rearranging the playing field when the scoreboard looks uncertain. It is our civic vow—our shared terms of coexistence. To treat it as pliable campaign material is to invite the very instability we claim to be trying to prevent.
The opposition believes the government cannot win a credible election without manipulating the rules. The government’s eagerness to amend and rearrange the electoral architecture risks making that suspicion plausible. In a democracy, perception matters almost as much as procedure. Reforms pursued with haste, secrecy, or suspicious timing will not be read as reform. They will be read as rigging-by-design.
Both sides have taken their case to the media—presenting versions of the truth, half-truths, and carefully clipped facts. This is the most cynical stage of democratic decline: when the public sphere becomes a courtroom without evidence and the citizen becomes a juror forced to decide on propaganda.
The 1991 Constitution, for all its flaws, has not been the principal reason our elections become controversial. When our democracy stumbles, it is often because of human ingenuity—our talent for manipulating systems for private gain. The law rarely fails first; character does. Institutions do not bleed on their own; they are wounded by those who treat the state not as a public trust but as a private inheritance.
That is precisely why the tripartite process matters. If it is to mean anything, its recommendations must not be tweaked to smuggle in partisan advantage or to amplify an ethno-regional accent. Any reform that tilts belonging—any amendment that deepens suspicion that some Sierra Leoneans matter more than others—will be a national betrayal disguised as an administrative adjustment.
Meanwhile, the confrontational rhetoric, edging toward incitement, will not be acted out in press rooms. It will be acted out in markets, junctions, campuses, villages, and slums. Ordinary citizens have paid for elite quarrels for over six decades—through fear, lost opportunity, violence, and stagnation. Many Sierra Leoneans are exhausted—not the polite fatigue that speeches can soothe, but the deep weariness of a people who have watched politics become a revolving door of promises and punishments. We are so tired of manipulation that even the word tired is worn out carrying our frustration.
And the cost is already visible in the quiet places where national anxiety settles.
In living rooms, families still carrying the scars of the 1990s listen to today’s political temperature with a familiar dread. They know how quickly careless words can turn into organized rage, and how fast the “small fight” among politicians becomes the long grief of citizens. In boardrooms and small enterprises, investors—local and foreign—pause, watch, and wait. Not because they hate Sierra Leone, but because capital is allergic to uncertainty. When elections look contested before they are even held, jobs are delayed, plans are shelved, and the burden again falls on the same public already stretched to the limit.
Yes, both major parties can point to achievements, but both have also tolerated habits that drag the nation backward. What is most revealing in this debate is how little of it is about national progress. The tone and tenor feel less like reform and more like grudges: who deserves power, who was cheated, and who must not be allowed to win again.
If each party believes it is the better steward, then prove it the democratic way. Leave the Constitution alone as a battlefield. Rewrite your manifesto. Present your record. Offer solutions. Let the people judge—without you adjusting the scales in advance.
As we approach the 65th Independence Anniversary, the simplest patriotic request is also the most urgent: give Sierra Leone a free and fair election—clean enough to be accepted by winners and losers alike. No manipulation of clauses. No fine-print engineering to predetermine outcomes. No alteration of the ethno-regional balance for advantage. Compete on ideas, not on the architecture of the contest.
Mr. President, listen to the people’s cadence—not the cadence of press releases, but the cadence of consultations; not the rhythm of party strategy, but the rhythm of a nation asking to be governed by consent. Because the tripartite communiqué already outlines the path back to credibility, the country is asking for something simpler—but harder: take full ownership of that path in full daylight. Do not allow “interpretations” to dilute it. Do not allow hidden clauses to stain it.
Publish the proposed reforms as they stand, in plain language and in full legal text. Commit publicly to implementing them in good faith. Create a credible mechanism to track implementation—so citizens can measure progress by dates and deliverables, not by rumors and press releases.
This is not about gifting the opposition a victory. It is about gifting Sierra Leone legitimacy. A nation cannot be governed permanently on disputed consent.
This also clarifies the question of legacy. Praise is cheap and contested. History does not grade slogans; it grades outcomes. It offers you a rare bargain: trade short-term advantage for long-term legitimacy. Become bigger than party interests at the moment the country is most tempted by partisan impulse.
You are the beneficiary of the 2023 election. You also preside over the process that emerged in response to the crisis of trust: the tripartite. That makes your responsibility heavier, not lighter. Your legacy as a democratic leader will not be secured by winning power; it will be secured by how you protect the rules by which power is won.
We are all invested in this land. If it lacks democratic nutrients, whatever we plant here will wither. Schools, hospitals, roads, jobs—none of this can flourish in soil poisoned by injustice. A people can endure poverty and a punishing cost of living, but no nation survives the theft of its will. No injustice compares to being told your voice matters, only to see it overridden by design.
There are rogue players in every party—political entrepreneurs whose loyalty is not to the public good but to personal gain. They sponsor disinformation, weaponize identity, and profit from chaos. Some go to extreme lengths to destroy opponents, crossing the boundaries of legitimate politics. They have held sway for too long. This is the moment to break their spell.
So, as we celebrate sixty-five years of independence, let the gift to the nation be more than a ceremony. Let it be a reassurance. Let action be the one that lowers the heat.
Before politicians keep challenging each other and exploiting the public, the people are now daring their leaders—especially the President—to support their claims:
Conduct a fair election. Implement the tripartite in good faith. Publish the reforms. And let Sierra Leone breathe again.
*Mr. President, as the nation marks 65 years of independence on April 27, I wish Your Excellency a happy Independence Anniversary—may your leadership gift Sierra Leone the peace that comes from credible elections and the dignity of a people’s freely expressed will.*
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