When Titles Replace Truth

University of Sierra Leone

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh | Contributor, Africa Publicity

In a land blessed with gold, diamonds and resilience, Sierra Leone’s greatest tragedy today is not just poverty or corruption. It is the dangerous rise of fake glory. Leaders with empty credentials parading as saviours. They have nothing to give but titles and accolades. No ideas. No policies. No solutions. Just grand names and photo ops while the people continue to suffer in silence.

Our politics has become a stage. Politicians, rather than present vision or value, now drape themselves in self-proclaimed titles. Dr, Professor, Ambassador, Commander. All without verified credentials. Some buy honorary degrees from obscure corners of the world. Others invent diplomatic or academic titles to impress a population already starved of hope. It is no longer about truth. It is about appearance.

We have become a nation where it is easier to claim a doctorate than to fix a broken borehole. A country where leaders possess more medals than their towns have working clinics. This addiction to borrowed prestige has created a crisis of leadership. It is no longer enough to serve. One must perform. One must appear powerful, even if the power is hollow.

And it is working. The people, crushed by hardship and hungry for hope, have been conditioned to worship image over substance. They cheer for titles, not track records. They celebrate awards, not accountability.

After being ceremoniously handed the ECOWAS chairmanship, Julius Maada Bio proudly announced he is aiming higher. Perhaps the African Union next. At the same time, his wife is receiving another international accolade in the United States. But what have these honors brought to the people of Sierra Leone? Absolutely nothing. The benefits remain locked inside their household. Not even their inner circle can explain how these recognitions have changed the lives of citizens. It is self-promotion disguised as patriotism. The truth is that Sierra Leone gains nothing while its image is used for personal glory.

The worst part? These acts trickle down. Local councillors now want to be called Honorable while doing nothing honorable. Religious leaders label themselves with every title imaginable. Reverend, Doctor, Prophet, Apostle. Community chiefs emerge with no roots in traditional authority. Vanity has taken over integrity.

Meanwhile, the real cost is paid by the common people. The mother delivering her baby in darkness in Kono. The student in Kenema reading from a textbook printed in 1995. The youth in Port Loko holding a real degree, unemployed, while someone with a fake one is called Consultant in a government office.

The obsession with appearances has created a system where real experts are overlooked in favor of impostors. True professionals, thinkers and patriots are shoved aside because they do not play the title game.

We do not need more titles. We need more truth. We need honest men and women who will build schools, not buy degrees. Who will serve with humility, not show off borrowed honors. Who will fix roads, not chase applause.

Let us remember. Bai Bureh never needed to be called Field Marshal. Sengbe Pieh was not Professor of Justice. Wallace Johnson was not Doctor of Struggles. They earned respect through courage, sacrifice and service. Not ceremony.

So let Sierra Leone ask every leader. Where is your record? Where is your proof of impact? Do not show us your title. Show us your legacy.

As we approach another election cycle, let this be the year we reject empty prestige. Let us vote not for names but for actions. Because the country is drowning. Not in ignorance but in dishonesty. And if we keep rewarding the actors, we will never get the builders.

Sierra Leone deserves better. Our people are not fools. They are simply exhausted. But it is time to wake up and demand more. This time, may we not be fooled by paper crowns and phony credentials. Let truth rise again.

Alpha Amadu Jalloh is a human rights advocate, columnist and author of Monopoly of Happiness. He writes from Melbourne, Australia.