Against The Gun, For The Nation: How Can We Forget

The late President Ahmed Tejan Kabba of Sierra Leone

By Alpha Amadu Jalloh

In the turbulent 1990s, Sierra Leone stood at a dangerous crossroads. War raged across the country. Soldiers betrayed their constitutional duties. The cries of a battered people echoed through refugee camps, burnt villages and shuttered polling stations. But in the darkest moments of that decade, Sierra Leoneans taught the world a profound lesson. Freedom, even in the face of bullets, is non-negotiable.

 

In 1996, Brigadier Julius Maada Bio, then a young military officer, overthrew his comrade Captain Valentine Strasser in what was essentially a palace coup. Taking the reins of the National Provisional Ruling Council, Bio’s immediate call was for peace before elections. To many, this was a veiled attempt to entrench military rule and delay the return to civilian democracy. But the people of Sierra Leone, weary of warlords, juntas and gun politics, rose up unarmed but unshaken.

 

That pivotal moment came at Bintumani I, a national consultative conference convened in 1995. The intention was to gather the pulse of the nation and ask its delegates, chiefs, civil society, political parties, students and ordinary citizens, whether the country should wait for peace before holding elections. The answer was resounding and unanimous. Let the people vote.

 

It was a revolutionary decision. In a country where every political process had been dictated at gunpoint, Sierra Leoneans chose the ballot over the bullet. They declared that peace would not be gifted by warlords but earned through legitimate governance. It was a direct rejection of Bio’s position. The young military leader, uncomfortable with the verdict, delivered a chilling warning. He could not guarantee the security of Sierra Leoneans if elections went ahead.

 

Yet they went ahead. And in February 1996, Sierra Leoneans queued under heavy rain and heavier threat, casting their ballots in defiance of military intimidation. Their choice was a soft-spoken economist, a civilian with no army behind him. Ahmed Tejan Kabbah.

 

It was President Kabbah, in his historic speech at the United Nations General Assembly later that year, who captured the bravery of his people in powerful words that must be etched into Africa’s democratic memory. Addressing world leaders, he declared:

 

> “It was a battle between armless civilians and anti-democratic aliens. Our people chose democracy over dictatorship, ballots over bullets. Some preferred to become refugees in foreign lands than live under the rule of military juntas.”

 

That speech was more than rhetoric. It was a chronicle of resistance. When the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council overthrew Kabbah’s elected government on May 25, 1997, Sierra Leone again descended into darkness. But it did not surrender.

 

Ordinary citizens, market women, students, okada riders and elders rejected the junta’s rule. Many walked for days to seek refuge in Guinea and Liberia. Others organized underground resistance and civil disobedience campaigns. Civil servants refused to report to work. Teachers boycotted classrooms. Broadcasters risked their lives to smuggle messages of hope on the BBC and VOA.

 

In another passionate segment of that same UN speech, President Kabbah reminded the world:

 

> “Those who remained behind lived in fear, but not in silence. They set a precedent, not just for Sierra Leone, but for all Africa. The will of the people can and must rise above the barrel of the gun.”

 

President Kabbah, often regarded as a man of calm discipline and legal precision, did not shy away from addressing the conduct of Julius Maada Bio and the NPRC directly. At a post-election press briefing, he told journalists:

 

> “Brigadier Bio said he could not guarantee our safety during elections. But our people voted. That alone speaks louder than any gun.”

 

And at a campaign rally in Bo just after being declared the winner, he affirmed:

 

> “We will not be intimidated by threats of instability. Brigadier Bio is a citizen like the rest of us. No man, no matter his rank or uniform, should block the path of democracy.”

 

When the AFRC staged the 1997 coup and drove him into exile, President Kabbah again referenced the historical stance taken against Bio’s military government the previous year:

 

> “Let it be known. The same way our people rejected Brigadier Bio’s call to delay democracy, they will reject the treason of the AFRC junta. They would rather live in exile than bow to khaki tyranny.”

 

Even in private briefings with ECOWAS representatives while in Guinea, President Kabbah reportedly said:

 

> “The military that failed to win the war now wants to rule the country. Even Brigadier Bio, before handing over, attempted to discredit the elections. Yet, here we are. The will of the people triumphed then, and it will again.”

 

His core belief never wavered. He insisted, repeatedly:

 

> “Brigadier Bio said Sierra Leone needed peace before elections. I say democracy is the path to peace. He feared chaos. The people chose courage.”

 

And in his farewell address in 2007, after handing over to another elected president, he reminded the nation once more:

 

> “Let history record that in 1996, when we were told the time was not right for democracy, the people spoke. I was just a vessel. The real heroes were those who voted when Brigadier Bio said they should wait.”

 

This was not just about one election. It was a generational statement. Sierra Leone had once been Africa’s Athens. Home of Fourah Bay College, the first university in West Africa and a beacon of intellectual resistance during colonial times. In the 1990s, it reclaimed that heritage with moral courage.

 

Today, as President Julius Maada Bio, once that same brigadier, sits in State House, the irony is profound. The same man who once warned that he could not guarantee security for elections is now the chief custodian of that democratic order. Whether he has fully embraced the spirit of Bintumani is a question for the people and history to answer.

 

But let us be clear. The democratic fabric of Sierra Leone was not handed down by soldiers. It was woven by the people, ordinary and unarmed, who made extraordinary sacrifices. The legacies of those who fled rather than bow to juntas, and those who stayed behind to challenge oppression, must never be erased or rewritten.

 

As other African nations grapple with coups, third term extensions and constitutional manipulations, Sierra Leone’s history offers a template. Democracy cannot wait for perfect peace. Peace is often the fruit of democracy.

 

Let this be a warning to those who still think that the uniform gives them the license to rule without consent. The armless citizens of Sierra Leone proved otherwise. And they did it not once, but twice.

 

In remembering President Ahmed Tejan Kabbah, we must also remember his humility, resilience and deep belief in constitutional order. His words remain prophetic and relevant in today’s turbulent continent.

 

> “Let the people speak. Let the people choose. And let the people be heard, not silenced by guns or greed.”

 

These words must guide every African nation that is tempted to trade democracy for temporary stability. Sierra Leone’s past, soaked in blood but redeemed by ballots, is a mirror for the continent.

 

When leaders forget the lessons of Bintumani, the people must remind them. Not with weapons, but with will. Not with violence, but with vigilance.

 

Because in the end, it is the armless who truly hold power when they stand together.