The Power of Language in Shaping Sierra Leone’s Democracy and Unity

Language is not just a means of communication—it is a mirror of society and a powerful instrument in shaping it. From the way we talk to the way we lead, language influences how we think, behave, and relate to each other. Sociolinguistics, the study of how language and society intersect reveals that words are never neutral. They carry the weight of culture, power, and identity. And in Sierra Leone today, this reality is unfolding right before our eyes.

This was made painfully clear during the recent state opening of Parliament on August 8, 2025. In what should have been a moment of national unity, a Member of Parliament hurled the Krio phrase “u koko ros” loosely translated as “you lost your tract” in a pointed reference, allegedly aimed at the First Lady, Dr. Fatima Jabbie Madda Bio. But this was more than a casual insult. It was a moment that stripped language of its dignity and revealed how deeply words can wound. Many saw the phrase not just as disrespectful, but dehumanizing an attack that cut beyond political criticism and into the soul of our national discourse.

This event is not an isolated one. Across Sierra Leone, language has increasingly become a weapon of political warfare. From Parliament to political rallies, leaders and their supporters often resort to inflammatory rhetoric, personal insults, and ethnic slurs—mostly expressed in indigenous languages. These are not just political jabs; they are calculated acts meant to provoke, divide, and dominate. The current Chief Minister, Honourable Dr. Moinina Sengeh, recently described the opposition as “unprogressive” a comment that sparked national debate and nearly ignited political unrest. Even President Bio, during the SLPP National Convention, acknowledged the troubling trend: “Wi don kɔs kɔs… Nak nak wi sef.” These are not the words of peacebuilding; they are the signs of a fractured political culture.

Scholars have long warned us of this danger. William Labov called language a “social act” that reflects how people identify themselves and others. Pierre Bourdieu viewed language as a form of power—a currency of influence in social and political spaces. Joshua Fishman saw it as the heartbeat of community and culture. But when this power is abused—when language is used to belittle rather than build. It threatens the very unity these scholars say it can uphold.

Outside of Parliament, the impact is also felt in music and satire. Emmerson Bockarie, popularly known as “D Ayon We No De Ben,” has used his music to critique corruption, tribalism, and misgovernance. Songs like “Bɔr Bɔr Bɛlɛh”, “Tu Fut Arata”, and “Yɛstade Bɛtɛh Pas Tide”challenge the status quo and call citizens to reflect. But even these works are not immune from political misuse. Instead of being used to spark civic awareness, politicians often co-opt them for partisan gain, stripping them of their original intent.

So what path forward exists when language becomes a battleground?

First, we must urgently reclaim language as a tool for unity, not division. Political leaders must model respectful speech—especially in the public eye. There should be clear codes of conduct governing language in Parliament and other official platforms.

Second, education is key. From classrooms to community centers, citizens must learn that words are not harmless. They carry history, identity, and emotional weight. When misused, they can destroy relationships and communities.

Third, the media and artistic communities must be empowered to promote narratives of peace, inclusion, and national pride. When we uplift voices that unite rather than divide, we help reshape public consciousness.

Ultimately, we must all—politicians, artists, educators, citizens recognize that our words help build the society we live in. They can either open doors or erect walls. The events of August 8 should serve as a wake-up call. If we continue down this path of verbal violence, we risk tearing apart the very fabric of our democracy.

In conclusion, the future of Sierra Leone rests not just on elections or institutions, but on something far more intimate—our language. It is in how we speak to one another that we define the kind of country we want to live in. Let us choose our words wisely, for they carry the power to heal or to harm.

After all, the one who throws the stone forgets—but the one who is hit remembers forever. Politics ends, but life continues.