By Mahmud Tim Kargbo
At a moment in global politics when leaders increasingly recoil from scrutiny, Sierra Leone’s Chief Minister, Dr David Moinina Sengeh, articulates a doctrine that runs counter to prevailing instinct. He does not merely accept criticism. He treats it as a governing asset.
“I tell people I enjoy my work as a leader because of one simple thing,” he says. “I have learned that the job of your critics is to criticise you no matter what you do.”
In many political systems, such candour would be interpreted as vulnerability. In Sierra Leone, it signals something more disciplined. It reflects an understanding that criticism is not episodic, but structural. It is woven into the fabric of democratic life.
Even commendable performance does not insulate a leader from reproach. “Even when you do good, they’ll say it could have been better or it was done late,” Dr Sengeh observes. “They are right to feel and react that way. It’s their right.”
This assertion places him within a lineage of democratic thought that stretches back to John Stuart Mill’s defence of free expression as a corrective mechanism in society. For Mill, dissent was not merely tolerated, but necessary for intellectual and civic progress. Dr Sengeh’s formulation echoes this principle in practical governance. The critic’s voice is not noise to be suppressed. It is friction that sharpens public policy.
What is particularly striking is his refusal to personalise dissent. “It doesn’t necessarily mean you are bad at what you do or they could do it better than you. It just means they’ll criticize you for being you and being in your position.”
In an era marked by performative outrage and personalised political conflict, this psychological detachment is rare. Across continents, leaders increasingly conflate disagreement with hostility. The result is polarisation, institutional erosion and a narrowing of civic space. Dr Sengeh’s posture suggests a different model, one in which authority is secure enough to absorb critique without perceiving existential threat.
His approach aligns with strands of deliberative democratic theory, particularly the work of Jürgen Habermas, who argued that legitimacy emerges through communicative engagement. “As a leader, I engage with my critics fiercely, so everyone learns,” Dr Sengeh explains. Engagement here is reciprocal. It is not the monologue of power, but the dialogue of accountability.
“I welcome criticism and I happily share my reactions and opinions back, because I am invested in their growth.”
This statement introduces a pedagogical dimension to leadership. It implies that public debate is developmental. Critics refine leaders. Leaders refine critics. Society matures through structured disagreement. In this framework, opposition is not obstruction. It is co-production of governance.
“When my critics and my opponents are good, I get better. I love the challenge.”
The sentiment resonates with leadership models often associated with adaptive governance, where complexity is acknowledged rather than denied. Adaptive leaders do not seek permanent equilibrium. They evolve in response to challenge. They recognise that systems improve when stress is tested.
Yet, philosophy alone does not confer legitimacy. In emerging democracies, ideas must translate into tangible gains.
Under the banner #WeAreDelivering, Dr Sengeh anchors his thesis in measurable outcomes. More girls are graduating from school, signalling not only educational expansion, but structural inclusion. In a region where gender disparities have historically constrained opportunity, educational attainment for girls is a transformative metric.
More mothers survive childbirth, reflecting targeted health interventions in a country that once grappled with some of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world. Each statistical improvement represents institutional strengthening and the preservation of family stability.
More homes are connected to electricity than yesterday, extending the material architecture of modern statehood. Electrification underpins economic productivity, technological access and educational continuity. It is both infrastructure and symbol.
Perhaps most ambitiously, Dr Sengeh asserts that more justice exists within society. Justice is not easily reduced to numbers. It is experienced in courtrooms, police stations and community interactions. It is perceived in whether citizens feel protected rather than excluded. To foreground justice is to frame development as moral as well as material.
Still, he tempers achievement with acknowledgement. “We still have work to do for so many more to get education, better healthcare and a more just society.”
The repetition of more, underscores a philosophy of incrementalism. Progress is comparative. It is measured against yesterday and oriented towards tomorrow. This refusal to declare completion reflects awareness of the structural depth of Sierra Leone’s challenges.
Central to his vision is #RadicalInclusion. In global discourse, inclusion has become a frequent refrain, often rhetorical. Dr Sengeh’s formulation implies structural integration. Inclusion of girls in classrooms. Inclusion of mothers in safe healthcare systems. Inclusion of households in national grids. Inclusion of marginalised communities in justice processes.
Yet inclusion has consequences. Expanding participation multiplies expectation. When more citizens feel ownership of the state, they demand more of it. Criticism intensifies rather than diminishes. The paradox is evident across democracies worldwide. Greater civic empowerment often yields louder dissent.
Dr Sengeh appears to accept this as democratic vitality rather than instability. A society that criticises is a society that believes improvement is possible. A silent society is not necessarily a satisfied one.
Globally, the politics of grievance and defensiveness has gained traction. Leaders in several democracies have sought to curtail media scrutiny, delegitimise opposition or personalise institutional critique. Against this backdrop, the Sierra Leonean Chief Minister’s insistence on engagement stands out. It is not utopian. It is pragmatic. Durable legitimacy rests not on the absence of criticism, but on the ability to withstand and respond to it.
Whether this doctrine will yield long term institutional resilience depends on outcomes that transcend rhetoric. Educational gains must translate into employment and innovation. Healthcare improvements must be sustained across administrations. Electrification must become reliable, not merely expanded. Justice must be felt consistently across regions and social strata.
Yet the conceptual framework is coherent. Leadership is not the art of silencing critics. It is the discipline of learning from them. Governance is not a finished product but an evolving conversation. Delivery is not solitary achievement but collective endeavour.
Together #WeAreDelivering. Together #WeWillDeliver.
In these phrases lies a recognition that democracy is participatory labour. It is constructed daily through tension between expectation and execution. Dr David Moinina Sengeh’s wager is that by embracing that tension rather than resisting it, Sierra Leone can deepen both its development and its democratic culture.
In a fractured global age, where authority often fears scrutiny, the willingness to be challenged may prove not a liability, but a mark of political maturity.