Sierra Leone is known for its Netflix tendencies, and for over a month now, one episode that has dominated the airwaves is the passage of the Constitution of Sierra Leone (Amendment) Bill, 2025, by a simple majority rather than the two-thirds threshold that the supreme law of the land prescribes for altering itself. What began as a procedural ruling by the Speaker of Parliament has transformed into a full-blown national conversation about who, in the end, gets to decide what the Constitution means and whether that decision will be made honestly.
It could be recalled that on 10 August 2026, the Speaker of Parliament, Hon. Segepoh Solomon Thomas, ruled that the Constitution of Sierra Leone (Amendment) Bill, 2025, could be passed under Section 91(1), which provides for members present to vote by a simple majority, rather than under Section 108(2)(b), which governs amendments to the Constitution itself.
Section 108(2)(b) is unambiguous and instructs that an individual or group of individuals cannot alter the Constitution, nor shall an amendment be passed by Parliament unless, at its second and third readings, it is supported by the votes of not less than two-thirds of the Members of Parliament. With 149 seats in the House, that threshold is 100 affirmative votes.
The government reportedly had 96 votes. Instead of lobbying Members of Parliament to secure the additional four votes through persuasion or compromise, the Speaker reinterpreted the rules of the game by relying on Section 91 and, as an afterthought, or as some might say, after the mission had been accomplished, suggested that his decision would be sent to the Supreme Court for interpretation. The authority for such a referral is itself questionable, but that is a matter for another day.
The Speaker’s move prompted the opposition All People’s Congress to walk out of the chamber in protest. Many saw his action as a blatant bastardisation of, and disregard for, the Constitution, while others hailed him as a hero.
After the bill was passed amid controversy over the applicable constitutional procedure, the main opposition party, some of its members, and even individuals filed petitions with the Supreme Court seeking constitutional interpretation. Others have called on the President not to give his presidential assent and to invoke Section 122(1) of the Constitution.
As we waited in anticipation to see what was going to happen, sitting on a thin thread with our teeth glued in our mouths and forecasting the fate of our beloved country, the President, on 13 September 2026, through a notice from State House, exhibited what many would regard as one of the characteristics of a true leader by sending the matter to the Supreme Court for interpretation.
A friend jokingly said perhaps the President is afraid of treason because violating the Constitution under Section 108(8) could be tantamount to a treasonous act, or perhaps it is simply part of a grand plan to execute the process.
Whatever the President’s private calculation—whether it is genuine institutional caution, an awareness that assenting to a bill passed in apparent violation of Section 108(2)(b) could expose him to a serious constitutional breach, or simply a tactical pause—the effect is the same. The burden has shifted, fully and finally, to the Judiciary.
And it is a fine place to say: Thank you so much, President Bio!
Under Section 124 of the 1991 Constitution, the Supreme Court has original jurisdiction, to the exclusion of every other court, over matters relating to the enforcement or interpretation of any provision of the Constitution. That is not a ceremonial power. It is the mechanism by which a nation governed by a written constitution keeps faith with itself—the assurance that no institution, however popular or impatient, gets to rewrite the rules of the game simply by declaring that the old rules no longer apply.
Sierra Leoneans have been here before, and the memory is not a comfortable one.
In 2015, former President Ernest Bai Koroma used the Judiciary to remove his then Vice President, Samuel Sam-Sumana, from office without following the procedure set out in Sections 50 and 51 of the Constitution, the same procedure that Section 54(8) expressly extends to the removal of a Vice President.
The matter went to the Supreme Court, which was asked to determine whether the President’s “supreme executive authority” under Section 40(1) could override that procedure. The Court’s ruling, which upheld the removal, was widely criticised by some observers as placing political considerations above constitutional safeguards.
Ten years later, that precedent still hangs over the country like unexploded ordnance: a standing concern about whether a future president could seek to remove a sitting Vice President when their political visions no longer align, when they disagree over an issue of national concern, or whenever constitutional language is interpreted to provide a convenient route.
Even the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s report into the causes of Sierra Leone’s civil war was blunt about the Judiciary’s share of responsibility for the conditions that contributed to that decade of suffering.
A former colleague of blessed memory would always say:
“A judiciary that bends to power will also leave the masses in disarray; one that finds reasons rather than principles does not merely lose a case; however, it corrodes the one thing that keeps citizens believing that grievances can be resolved by law rather than by force.”
This is why the stakes here go far beyond a single clause about electoral thresholds or parliamentary procedure. The Supreme Court now has the opportunity and obligation to give Sierra Leoneans a ruling that reads like law rather than politics; one that engages honestly with the plain words of Section 108(2)(b), does not strain the text to reach a predetermined outcome, and is written with reasoning that ordinary citizens can follow and trust.
A ruling that is technically correct but transparently result-driven will satisfy no one and could deepen the very cynicism it should be dispelling. Conversely, a genuinely reasoned ruling that places the integrity of the constitutional order above the convenience of any political faction could help reinforce public confidence in the rule of law.
If and only if this is achieved, it will begin to repair the long-standing distrust between citizens and the legal system—a trust that Sierra Leone’s history teaches us is not a luxury but a precondition for national unity itself.
Now, the Judiciary has a rare opportunity to demonstrate that the Constitution is supreme and that party loyalty and political patronage are not the only lenses through which Sierra Leone’s highest court sees the law.
With the burden shifted, Sierra Leone’s democracy now rests on the Judiciary’s shoulders, and it must be upheld in the best interest of peace, stability and tranquility.
OVER TO YOU, SALONE JUDICIARY!
