The Ban and the Betrayal

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh

President Donald J. Trump, never one to blink when controversy looms, has done it again. With the stroke of his executive pen, he has announced a new travel and immigration ban targeting twelve countries, including Sierra Leone. For a nation that insists on its democratic credentials and brags about stability, inclusion in this list is nothing short of humiliating.

Even more baffling is the list of countries not included in the ban. Nations like Guinea, our immediate neighbor currently under a junta government, have somehow managed to dodge President Trump’s axe. Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso, also governed by military regimes, are banned. Yet Guinea, where the rule of law was suspended and power seized by force, is off the list. What explains this selective punishment? Why is Sierra Leone, a country without tanks in the streets, being treated like a threat to the American homeland?

It is laughable, if not painfully ironic, that the United States now sees Sierra Leone, a country so deep in economic despair that its citizens are fleeing on fishing boats, as a national security threat. What exactly have we done to earn this dishonour? What is going on behind the curtains of State House that the people are not aware of?

While Ambassador Bryan David Hunt is busy handing out polished diplomatic praise and giving sweet-sounding speeches about democracy and development, President Trump is sending a completely different message to the world. That message is loud and clear. Sierra Leone is no longer a trusted partner.

This is no ordinary blacklist. It is a global red flag. It tells the world that Sierra Leone, under the administration of President Julius Maada Bio, can no longer be relied upon to respect the rules of international cooperation, justice or transparency. And it is not hard to see why this conclusion was reached.

One of the clearest triggers for this policy may have been the recent scandal involving Jos Leijdekkers, a notorious Dutch fugitive wanted for international drug trafficking. The Netherlands requested Sierra Leone’s cooperation in extraditing him. Instead, under the direct influence of President Bio, the Minister of Justice and Attorney General decided to pull out of the process, offering no real explanation to the international community. That singular decision told the world that Sierra Leone was willing to harbor suspects in global criminal networks.

Weeks later, the United States formally labeled Sierra Leone a drug transshipment hub, a deeply damning classification with long-term implications. Rather than respond with swift reforms or diplomatic outreach, the Bio government went quiet. Deafeningly quiet.

The government’s silence has been interpreted as complicity. And now President Trump has spoken in the language he knows best. Sanctions, bans and unapologetic isolation.

Let us be honest. This is not just about Jos Leijdekkers. This is about a pattern. A pattern of weak institutions, of selective justice, of diplomatic recklessness and of chronic impunity. In a world where intelligence reports guide policy more than press statements, Sierra Leone’s internal dysfunction has become impossible to hide.

If Sierra Leone were indeed the principled democratic state that its diplomats constantly proclaim, we would not be in this position. Our democracy, while real on paper, has become a theatre of contradictions. Elections marred by violence and rigging. A parliament whose legitimacy is contested. A judiciary that bends to political pressure. A police force that is feared rather than trusted.

So yes, we are rattled. Rattled because the lie we have sold to ourselves and to the world is finally unraveling.

And yet, there is another side to this humiliation. Selective justice by the United States. Why is Guinea, where a military junta dissolved elected institutions, spared? Is it because they have handed over criminals the U.S. requested? Or have they simply been better at hiding their deals? These are questions the U.S. government must answer if it wishes to avoid the charge of diplomatic double standards.

Still, the onus is on us. This crisis was born from our own failings. The Americans did not fabricate Jos Leijdekkers. They did not invent the corruption in our courts or the politicization of our ministries. We did. And now we are all paying for it.

The implications are far-reaching. Sierra Leoneans who once hoped for visas to the U.S. will now find the door slammed shut. Students will lose scholarships. Professionals will miss conferences. Families will be split. The Bio administration may survive the political fallout, but ordinary citizens will suffer the real consequences.

What is even more dangerous is the normalization of shame. Already, we are seeing government ministers pretend as though nothing has happened. No apologies. No official statement. No effort to correct the record. They are quiet, as if this ban is a passing thunderstorm instead of the diplomatic hurricane it truly is.

The sweetness of bad habits has numbed our national conscience. We are no longer outraged by dishonour. We are simply surprised that others are now noticing it.

This must be a wake-up call. President Trump’s policy may be harsh, but it is also a mirror. A mirror reflecting how far we have fallen from the promises of our post-war rebuilding.

Once hailed as a model for peacebuilding, Sierra Leone is now drifting into the same storm it once emerged from. The international community is turning its back and we are busy posting staged photos and empty press releases.

If President Bio wants to salvage what little credibility remains, he must take immediate and decisive steps. He must cooperate with international justice bodies. He must end the shielding of criminals. He must clean up the institutions that have become breeding grounds for impunity. And most importantly, he must stop governing as if Sierra Leone exists in a diplomatic vacuum.

We are not alone in this world. And now we have been reminded brutally so that even our most powerful friends can turn their backs when we refuse to respect the global rules of engagement.

The nation is rattled. But more than that, the nation has been exposed. And if we are not shaken into urgent reform now, the next blow may not only be diplomatic. It may be existential.

About the Author:

Alpha Amadu Jalloh is a Sierra Leonean political commentator and author of Monopoly of Happiness: Unveiling Sierra Leone’s Social Imbalance. He is the recipient of the 2025 Africa Renaissance Leadership Award.