The debate over proportional representation (PR) has resurfaced with vigour in Sierra Leone, stirred by comments from the Executive branch and framed by Andrew Keili’s “Ponder My Thoughts.” It is not a new conversation. As a member of the Edmund Cowan–led 2013 Constitutional Review Committee, I recall that the same question arose then — whether PR, which works for legislative inclusivity, should also extend to the Executive. We resisted that temptation then, and for good reason.
Today, the argument returns dressed in reformist robes, claiming that the Presidency has become too powerful, and that proportionality would bring fairness and inclusion. But this prescription risks replacing one ailment with a far worse disease. The problem with our democracy is not that the Executive is strong; it is that our institutions of oversight are weak. Diluting authority will not cure weakness; it will institutionalise paralysis. What Sierra Leone needs is not fragmentation, but fidelity — an Executive answerable to law, not beholden to arithmetic.
Governance is not a factory floor, and the Presidency cannot be a conveyor belt producing new heads of government whenever coalitions crack. Stability, coherence, and decisiveness are the lifeblood of executive authority. As Le Châtelier’s principle reminds us in Chemistry, when a stable system is disturbed, it reacts unpredictably to restore equilibrium. To force proportionality upon the Executive would be to impose instability by design — a structure meant for unity compelled to serve competing masters. The outcome would not be inclusion but confusion.
Every mature democracy is built on balance, not dispersion. Locke and Rousseau, whose writings nourished the democratic imagination, both recognised that popular sovereignty requires coherent authority. Locke argued that “the majority having once consented, the act of the community is binding on all.” Rousseau warned that freedom survives only where the General Will is unified, not splintered into factions. A President, therefore, must embody the single, indivisible consent of the people — not a collage of competing party bargains. Once the people confer executive power, that mandate must endure until lawfully renewed, not continually renegotiated through coalition deals.
As Lord Denning famously said, “You cannot put something on nothing and expect it to stay there.” Lord Bingham, in The Rule of Law, added that the strength of any democracy lies in clarity, certainty, and accountability. A proportional Executive would obscure who governs, who decides, and who answers when things go wrong. It would blur responsibility, replacing answerability with excuses. When accountability is everyone’s duty, it becomes no one’s burden.
The 2013 Constitutional Review Committee confronted this exact danger. Some minor parties, understandably frustrated by exclusion, proposed that PR be extended to the Presidency and Cabinet. After weeks of spirited deliberation, the committee overwhelmingly rejected the idea. We concluded that while PR may enrich the legislature, the Executive must remain the nation’s stabilising centre. As we recorded in our minutes, inviting opposition parties into government would be like “boiling the baby in its mother’s milk” — allowing those rejected at the ballot box to steer the ship of state. To dilute the Executive in this way would undermine the very logic of electoral choice.
James Madison and Alexander Hamilton reached the same conclusion more than two centuries ago. In The Federalist Papers, Madison warned that “the causes of faction cannot be removed, but their effects must be controlled.” Hamilton declared that “energy in the Executive is a leading character in the definition of good government.” Unity ensures responsibility; division ensures paralysis. A proportional Executive would produce a government of negotiators rather than leaders — a machinery of motion without direction, a journey with no arrival, driven by bargaining rather than conviction.
To accept opposition parties into the Executive under a proportional formula would also reduce governance to political picketing — a spectacle where party leaders act less like statesmen and more like trade-union executives clamouring for ministerial seats. Instead of offering principled opposition, they would become perpetual negotiators for positions. Government would descend from accountability to entitlement, from conviction to convenience — a bargaining forum for spoils, not a centre of national decision-making.
The Presidency is not a marketplace for power-sharing; it is a constitutional trust founded on a singular national mandate. Peter Tucker’s Review Commission reaffirmed this truth: while PR may “broaden voices in the legislature,” it must never “dilute the singular mandate of the Executive.” The President derives legitimacy directly from the people’s consent, not from post-election negotiations. Replacing that consent with partisan arithmetic would erode the clarity of responsibility upon which the rule of law depends.
Both the Tucker and Cowan review processes invite a deeper national introspection. Constitutional reform is not merely a technical rearrangement of power; it is a moral reckoning with our political culture. They remind us that no document, however elegant, can substitute for integrity. The question, therefore, is not only how we structure power, but how we exercise it. Before seeking new formulas, Sierra Leone must rediscover the civic virtue that gives any constitution life — discipline, honesty, and a willingness to serve. Our difficulty lies not in design, but in disposition.
Proponents of PR argue that it guarantees inclusion and fairness. In practice, it often empowers party elites rather than citizens. PR governments live in constant negotiation, where decisions are hostage to coalition survival. Everyone shares power, but no one bears blame. Representation expands, but responsibility vanishes. True inclusion cannot be achieved by dividing power mechanically; it must grow from trust, competence, and respect for law. PR may widen participation, but it narrows leadership.
Inclusivity is noble, but leadership demands unity of purpose. The Executive, like a system in equilibrium, must not be disturbed lest the reaction become destructive. As Shakespeare warns, “This butcher’d cur is venom-mouth’d, and I have not the power to muzzle him: there forever best not to wake him in its slumber.” Sierra Leone does not need a conveyor belt of executives; it needs a captain steady at the helm — one who governs with legitimacy, coherence, and accountability. Extending PR to the Executive would not be reform but rupture — a slow detonation of constitutional order disguised as inclusive progress.
Yet, inclusivity can still be achieved without constitutional chaos. A President who governs in good faith can embody proportional principles through cabinet appointments, drawing talent from across party lines. Such magnanimity strengthens legitimacy and national cohesion without weakening the executive mandate. The principle of inclusion should be moral, not mechanical, an act of statesmanship, not a rule of arithmetic. Structural reform must grow out of lived experience, not abstract imitation of untested systems.
Comparative lessons are revealing. Though the proportional systems in Italy and Israel differ from what is proposed for Sierra Leone, the legal disguises vary while the outcomes remain strikingly similar — fragile coalitions, recurrent elections, and governments preoccupied with survival rather than service. Under PR, leadership becomes a revolving door, policies shift with alliances, and accountability blurs in the fog of negotiation. In contrast, nations like Ghana and the United States, with directly elected executives, preserve clarity of responsibility and continuity of governance. Leadership remains stable because authority is singular. Where power is fragmented, government becomes episodic — an endless rehearsal with no performance.
A nation, like a forest, thrives on balance, not uniformity. The tallest trees form the canopy that shelters the rest; smaller plants nourish the soil. When every tree strains to reach equal height, the forest collapses into disorder. Proportional representation seeks numerical equality where functional balance should prevail. Leadership, like a healthy forest, depends on order and coherence, not on equal fragmentation.
Faith also cautions against this impulse. When Moses’ leadership was challenged by Korah, chaos followed (Numbers 16). The Qur’an likewise commands: “Obey Allah and obey the Messenger and those in authority among you” (4:59). Both scriptures affirm that legitimate authority, once conferred, must be respected until properly succeeded. Rebellion in the name of fairness breeds only confusion. Stability is not the enemy of freedom; it is its guarantor.
If there is any lesson from Cowan and Tucker, it is that reform begins within. A society that distrusts power must first discipline the use of it. Institutions must grow teeth; the judiciary must stand firm; Parliament must assert its oversight without fear or favour. When these pillars hold, the Executive will naturally remain accountable, and PR will have served its true purpose — not by invading the Presidency, but by strengthening the institutions that contain it.
The call for PR at the Executive level may be well-intentioned, but it misunderstands where Sierra Leone’s democratic strain lies. Our ailment is ethical, not architectural. We need leaders who see power as stewardship, not ownership. We need citizens who hold those leaders to account without seeking to cripple governance itself. A fractured Executive would not heal the body politic; it would scatter its bones.
In the end, democracy is sustained not by systems but by spirit. As Shakespeare further admonished, “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” Sierra Leone’s democratic strength depends not on borrowed systems, but on the spirit and fidelity with which we uphold our chosen Constitution.
While Andrew Keili’s “Ponder My Thoughts” invites us to muse over presidential overreach, one might cheekily observe that pondering alone will not steady the ship of state. Inclusivity must be pursued through institutional reform, responsible leadership, and respect for constitutional order — not by fragmenting the office that holds the nation together. Sierra Leone must choose stability over experimentation, clarity over confusion, and constitutional wisdom over political improvisation, lest we mistake a philosophical pondering for actual governance.
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