In contemporary Gambian politics, tribalism is resurfacing not as an abstract fear, but as a menacing reality that threatens our democratic ideals.
A disturbing pattern has emerged in recent political exchanges, showcasing how tribal rhetoric is being weaponized to silence journalists, distort the electoral process, and undermine national unity.
Today’s Gambia witnesses a troubling phenomenon: outrage against tribalism is alarmingly selective. Many choose silence when other tribes are demeaned, only finding their voice when threats encroach on their doorstep. This selective empathy shatters any shared moral compass and erodes the solidarity essential for confronting injustice.
Tribal loyalty, instead of serving to protect the vulnerable, now operates as a shield to evade accountability. We navigate an environment where voices rise solely in defense of one’s ethnic group, while indignation is deliberately withheld when others suffer. This moral inconsistency cannot go unchecked; silence in the face of another’s suffering is complicity regardless of shared language, kinship, or tribal allegiance.
A striking example occurred during President Adama Barrow’s “Meet the People’s Tour” in the Lower River Region, when his inflammatory comment about Mandinka voters supporting opposition leader Ousainou Darboe ignited outrage and resurrected deep-seated tensions.
Yet, the hypocrisy is pervasive; tribal sentiments have long seeped into every political party. A few years ago, before the 2021 presidential elections, deputy UDP party leader Aji Yam Secka openly urged Mandinkas to reject non-Mandinka candidates in Nianija. When UDP supporters targeted Fula and Sarahule communities, these actions were not mere aberrations; they were clear manifestations of tribalism as a calculated political strategy. This selective outrage against tribalism remains pervasive. Too many stay silent when other tribes are insulted, only raising their voices when the threat reaches their community. This selective empathy fractures our shared moral foundation and hinders the unity required to confront injustice. Tribal loyalty has transformed from a means of protection to a tool for deflecting accountability.
We find ourselves in a society where outrage surfaces only when one’s ethnic group is threatened, and indignation is conveniently silenced when others suffer. This contradiction must be condemned, as silence in the face of oppression is, in itself, complicity regardless of one’s background or allegiance.
What goes around comes around. I first shared this truth in 2003, echoing the prophetic words of German pastor Martin Niemöller. Today, these words resonate more profoundly than ever. The poem “First They Came” reflects our times, a moral compass adrift in a sea of silence until the flames reach our doorsteps. “Then they came for me, and there was no one left to speak out for me.”
This poignant line haunted Germany in the 1930s and now casts a long, ominous shadow over The Gambia, where tribalism reemerges not just as a political tactic but as a profound betrayal of our collective memory. We stand at the precipice of repeating history; yet this time, the silence is deafening, and the repercussions are more immediate. Under Jammeh’s regime, victims were systematically isolated, scapegoated, and brutalized. The “Janjaweed” and the “Muhajideens” on social media, many of whom now reinvent themselves as champions of freedom, stood idly by as communities were targeted, journalists were imprisoned, and dissent was criminalized. They calculated their silence as self-preservation. Now, they rewrite history to suit their political narratives, erasing their complicity and revising legacies to gain relevance.
Yet tyranny sleeps not; it bides its time, awaiting the next community to fall silent and the next neighbor to betray their conscience. The atmosphere of fear that prevailed in 1930s Germany, where ordinary citizens informed on one another and witnessed the rounding up of “undesirables,” unsettlingly parallels our current reality. Those who dare to speak are vilified, whistleblowers branded as tribalists, and truth-tellers labeled conspirators.
The Gestapo wielded boots and papers; today, misinformation is propagated through algorithms and hashtags. If they come for me in the morning, they will go for you at night. They have come for me time and again. I have faced threats of deportation, surveillance, and ruthless character assassination. Few stood up for me.
Now, as tribal allegiance overshadows truth, we witness outrage only when one’s tribe is affected. Solidarity has become a selective privilege, justice a conditional offer, and courage a mere transaction. This moment calls for unwavering moral clarity. We must refuse to permit the weaponization of our history and identity.
Let us remember that every act of silence resonates through time, compounding injustice for generations yet to come. No one should have to wait until they become a victim to recognize oppression. The lesson is straightforward: Speak out now, not later.
I’ve confronted this sickness before. From Jammeh’s attacks on Mandinkas to ethnically charged threats against journalists like myself and my colleague at the Independent and Pap Saine of the Point newspaper, tribalism has been used for our expulsion from the Gambia as a weapon against dissent.
Today, all those showing selective outrage never condemn when other tribes become victims of tribal bigotry. It’s time we stopped pretending it doesn’t exist in every corner of our political landscape.
Defend the truth, even when it feels inconvenient. Because when they come again—and they surely will—it must be said: We stood united against tyranny.
Educated elites, both domestically and internationally, must cast aside the comfort of tribal loyalties and confront our reality with both honesty and urgency. Our silence only fuels the spread of conspiracy theories and pseudo-intellectualism, which deepen societal divides and breed distrust. The media and civil society have a vital role now more than ever to shine a light on those who sow discord and to champion narratives of unity.
The Gambia must move past empty rhetoric and pursue bold constitutional reforms that tackle tribalism at its roots. We need inclusive institutions, robust civic education initiatives, and leadership that is accountable to the people rather than to tribal affiliations.
Tribalism is not a strategy; it is a step backward. It is not an identity; it is a betrayal. To indulge it is to jeopardize our children’s future and dishonor the legacy of our ancestors. The fight for truth begins now, and we must take action without delay.
