Across West Africa, parliaments have long been recognised as public institutions whose legitimacy depends on openness, scrutiny, and informed public debate. Journalists accredited to cover legislative proceedings serve as a bridge between elected representatives and the citizens they serve. When that bridge is weakened or severed, democratic accountability suffers.
The indefinite ban imposed on Sierra Leonean parliamentary journalist Melvin Tejan Mansaray stands out in the region not merely because access was withdrawn, but because it was done without due process, without a defined timeframe, and without an effective remedy one year on.
Comparatively, Ghana’s Parliament, often cited as a regional benchmark, manages disputes involving journalists through regulatory and professional bodies, including the National Media Commission and the Ghana Journalists Association. While access restrictions have occurred, they are typically temporary, procedurally documented, and subject to mediation or review. Importantly, sanctions are rarely imposed unilaterally from the Speaker’s chair.
In Nigeria, parliamentary journalists operate under accreditation rules administered in coordination with press unions. While tensions between lawmakers and reporters are not uncommon, blanket or indefinite bans are rare. When access is restricted, affected journalists can seek redress through the courts or media regulatory bodies, reflecting Nigeria’s constitutional protections for press freedom.
Kenya’s Parliament provides another instructive example. Journalists accused of misconduct may be suspended from specific sittings or spaces, but such actions are time-bound and appealable under parliamentary standing orders. Kenyan courts have also been willing to intervene where parliamentary actions are seen to infringe constitutional rights to expression and media freedom.
In South Africa, Parliament’s media accreditation framework is among the most robust on the continent. Access can only be withdrawn following written charges, a hearing, and an internal review process, all guided by constitutional jurisprudence that places a high premium on press freedom as a pillar of democracy.
Against this regional backdrop, Sierra Leone’s case appears increasingly anomalous. The open-ended nature of the ban, its imposition before investigation, and the failure to conclude or review the matter through constitutionally recognised mechanisms have drawn criticism from media advocates who warn of a chilling effect on parliamentary reporting.
At stake is not only the career of one journalist, but a broader principle: whether parliamentary authority can override constitutional guarantees without checks and balances. Section 25 of Sierra Leone’s 1991 Constitution guarantees freedom of expression and the press, while Section 23 enshrines the right to due process. International press-freedom standards, including those cited by Reporters Without Borders (RSF) and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), caution that denial of access, when used as punishment rather than regulation, risks becoming a form of indirect censorship.
West African democracies have shown that order and openness are not mutually exclusive. Parliaments can protect decorum while still respecting due process, proportionality, and the right to scrutiny. The unresolved ban on Melvin Tejan Mansaray now poses a critical question for Sierra Leone: will it align its parliamentary media practices with regional democratic norms, or allow silence to set a precedent?
For a country that has made significant post-war strides in media freedom, the answer will resonate far beyond Tower Hill.
