*The Politics of Revenge: Must Sierra Leone Continue to Play Tit-for-Tat?*
By Oumar Farouk Sesay
Arguably, the politics of revenge—colloquially captured in Sierra Leonean parlance as “you do me, ah do you,” or more universally as tit for tat—has become a defining feature of the political contest between the two parties that have dominated the country’s political landscape since independence. At times, each appears to view the other’s actions not merely as events to be judged on their own merits, but as grievances to be answered, wrongs to be righted, and scores to be settled.
The danger is that politics, which ought to be the art of negotiating competing interests and managing differences in a plural society, becomes a perpetual cycle of retaliation. Yesterday’s victim becomes today’s avenger, and yesterday’s perpetrator becomes tomorrow’s aggrieved party. Each side justifies itself by the other’s past conduct, while the country itself bears the cumulative consequences.
Like any game, this one needs rules. But unlike an ordinary game, its stakes are neither trivial nor limited to the players. They touch lives, livelihoods, institutions, national cohesion, and ultimately, the fragile peace of Sierra Leone. If this lethal political game continues, the urgent question is not merely who struck first, but where we choose to start counting the blows—and whether that count can ever meaningfully end.
Where, then, do we begin?
Do we begin in 1960, with the Lancaster House constitutional discussions, when Siaka Stevens opposed the arrangements under consideration and returned home to pursue his political campaign ahead of independence, helping lay the foundations for the All People’s Congress (APC)? If that is our starting point, what was the corresponding political “tat”? Was it the detention of Stevens at Pademba Road Prison on the eve of independence under Milton Margai’s government? If so, should we understand that detention as a response to Stevens’s political opposition, an exercise of state authority, or an episode in the larger struggle for political power? The distinction matters because how an event is interpreted often becomes the justification for the next act of retaliation.
Or should we begin with the disputed political transition surrounding the 1967 general elections and the subsequent struggle over who had the right to govern? What was the first “tit,” and what “tat” followed? Was the answer found in the political instability and coercion that accompanied the struggle for power, or in the subsequent consolidation of authority under one-party rule? In its opponents’ eyes, did establishing the one-party state represent the ultimate political retaliation? And what of the succession of exclusions, grievances, and abuses that accumulated over the years, deepening the divisions that eventually contributed to the country’s descent into an eleven-year civil war? Or are we seeking to bring back a de facto one-party system by “un-limbing” the constitution to avenge the one party of yesteryear, even though we have seen its fatal consequences for the country?
These are not merely historical questions. They go to the heart of how a nation remembers its past, assigns responsibility, and decides whether one generation’s mistakes must become the next generation’s grievances.
Perhaps, however, we should have drawn a line at the end of the war to mark the end of the tit-for-tat game. Perhaps we drew the line, but somehow the aggrieved among us are furiously erasing it to restart the game of death. Sierra Leone endured immense suffering, and the subsequent peacebuilding process, including the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s work, offered an opportunity to confront the past, acknowledge victims, establish responsibility, and begin the difficult work of national healing. If that period is our starting point, what was the first political “tit,” and what “tat” followed? Rather, who started this spiral to doom again after the Truth and Reconciliation Commission?
Was it the overthrow of the Tejan Kabba government? Was it the mob violence, controversial prosecutions, and severe punishments that some perceived as disproportionately targeting suspected or actual opposition figures? Were these actions justified as necessary accountability measures, or did their manner, selectivity, or perceived unfairness create new grievances? Where the evidence supported prosecution, justice was necessary. But when justice was perceived as selective, politicized, or driven by vengeance, did the process risk reproducing the very divisions it was meant to heal?
If these episodes were the postbellum first “tit,” what was the corresponding “tat” when the APC again had the chance to exercise power? Did it retaliate, refrain, or seek its own form of political redress? These questions deserve careful examination, not convenient assumptions. The answers should rest on evidence, not partisan memory or a desire to vindicate one side at the other’s expense.
More troubling still is the apparent acceleration of this tit-for-tat politics in what many regard as Sierra Leone’s Second Republic. After the war, the peace process, and repeated democratic transitions, why does the country still seem vulnerable to the temptation to settle political scores? Why does each shift in political fortune risk being seen as an opportunity to reverse the other side’s fortunes?
Could elements within the current government be looking backward rather than forward—driven by personal grievance, partisan loyalty, or a misguided sense of historical justice? Could the machinery of the state be vulnerable to people who see political office as a chance to settle old scores? Why extend this “tit for tat” cycle, potentially prompting a similar response when power changes hands and leaving citizens to endure a mournful refrain? These are serious questions, not established conclusions. They call for transparent investigation, institutional safeguards, and evidence-based scrutiny—not blanket accusations against an entire government or political party.
The opposition faces an equally important question. Is the ultimate objective of political contestation to defeat the governing party through democratic means, or is there a temptation to pursue a political reversal in which yesterday’s exclusion is answered by tomorrow’s? Where does legitimate accountability end and collective punishment begin? At what point does the desire to correct past injustices become an excuse for creating new ones?
A democracy cannot function on the assumption that every political victory grants the victor an unrestricted mandate to punish the vanquished. Nor can national reconciliation survive if every change of government creates the expectation that the incoming administration must avenge its predecessors’ perceived wrongs. Accountability is indispensable, but it must be grounded in evidence, due process, equal treatment under the law, and respect for fundamental rights. It cannot be reduced to the arithmetic of political revenge.
The central problem with tit-for-tat politics is that it has no natural endpoint.
If one party insists its actions are justified by the other’s, and the other responds in kind, who decides when the account is settled? If retaliation must always be proportionate to a prior wrong, who sets the original measure? Do we count from independence, the disputed 1967 elections, the years of one-party rule, the civil war, or the political grievances that emerged after the war?
The deeper we delve into history, the more complex the ledger grows. Each side can identify its own injuries, choose its own starting point, and construct its own moral justification. There is always another grievance to cite, another historical episode to revisit, and another perceived injustice to redress. The result is not closure but an expanding inheritance of bitterness.
Perhaps the question is not where the first “tit” occurred, but whether Sierra Leone can agree that the cycle must end at some point. Historical accountability must not be confused with inherited guilt. Those responsible for specific wrongdoing should be held accountable through lawful and impartial processes. But present-day citizens and political actors should not be condemned to perpetual retaliation for grievances accumulated over decades.
The rules of this political game must be clear. No government should use state institutions to settle partisan scores. No opposition should be intimidated, arbitrarily punished, or collectively blamed. Allegations of wrongdoing must be investigated impartially, prosecutions must follow due process, and the courts must remain independent. Political competition must be protected, peaceful dissent respected, and citizens’ rights upheld regardless of party affiliation.
Equally important, political leaders must resist the temptation to mobilize historical grievances when it serves their immediate interests. The past must be examined honestly, but it must not become an inexhaustible license for revenge. Remembering history should help the country understand how it arrived at its present circumstances and avoid repeating its mistakes—not keep the nation perpetually at war with itself.
Ultimately, Sierra Leone must decide whether the rule of law will govern its political future or the unwritten law of “you do me, ah do you.” It must decide whether justice will be an impartial principle or a weapon wielded by whoever holds power. It must also decide whether democracy is a shared national enterprise or merely a temporary opportunity for one party to settle accounts with another.
The tragedy of tit-for-tat politics is that players may believe they are winning even as the country loses. Political parties may trade power, punishments, and accusations, but ordinary Sierra Leoneans pay the price when institutions weaken, trust erodes, and old divisions deepen.
Whatever the original intentions, this game must have rules. Better still, the country must summon the courage to end it. Sierra Leone cannot afford another descent into the abyss simply because its political leaders have failed to distinguish justice from vengeance.
The ultimate test of political leadership is not how effectively one settles scores, but how courageously one breaks the cycle. Are you the one to break the cycle, or the one who will perpetuate it until doom descends again in this land?
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