There is a quiet storm brewing! A name comes to mind: The Juba Military Barracks. That same ground, once a symbol of state security, is at the center of a growing national debate, as plans to sell the Barracks gather momentum and public interest, and not interest of the public.
At first blush, it sounds straightforward: the military, with approval from the Defence Council, intends to dispose of an ageing facility and redirect resources elsewhere. On the superficial level, it is a tidy narrative and a practical approach.
Nevertheless, as the saying goes, the devil is in the details, and here, the details are in short supply.
A Sale Sanctioned, But not Settled
Let us begin where the government begins, with authority.
The Defence Council, which is a constitutionally recognised body, advises the President on matters of national defence. Its involvement signals that this is not some rogue operation carried out in the shadows of military hierarchy. It suggests state blessing. Official backing. A decision dressed in legitimacy.
However, in governance, approval is only the opening act. The real story unfolds in the process that follows. Because while the constitution may light the path, it is the law that determines how that path is walked.
Sierra Leone’s laws are not blind to the realities of change. They recognise that land once needed for public purpose may, with time, outlive that purpose. The Public Lands Ordinance (Cap. 116) puts it plainly:
“Whenever any land, acquired for a public work is not required, it shall be lawful for the Minister to sell or dispose of such land.”
In simple terms, yes, the State can sell. Even something as significant as a military barracks. But that permission is not a blank cheque. It comes with a quiet but crucial condition: the land must no longer be needed for its original purpose. On that note, the first question that hangs in the air like Harmattan dust is:
Who has decided that Juba Barracks is no longer needed, and where is that decision recorded (documented)?
A Test of Process
If the law opens the door, procedure decides who walks through it. The Public Financial Management Regulations of 2018 do not leave matters to chance. They sketch out how public assets must be handled when they are put up for sale. They address issues like:
Public tendering
- Public auction
- Or, in some cases, negotiated sale
However, even where negotiation is allowed, it is not meant to happen in a fog or behind closed office doors. It must still stand on the pillars of fair value, clear approval, and public accountability.
Furthermore, the same spirit runs through the Public Procurement Act, which favours open bidding, letting the market speak, rather than whispers behind closed doors. Because when public property is at stake, sunlight is not optional; it is essential for melanin enrichment.
The Silence That Speaks Volumes
Here lies the heart of the unease. For all the talk of approval and intention, the public remains in the dark on the fundamentals:
- No confirmed sale price
- No disclosed buyer
- No clear bidding process
Instead, what has been offered is a single, slippery word, “Negotiations.” Now, negotiation in itself is not unlawful, but in the context of public assets, it raises eyebrows, and rightly so, because when a national asset is being quietly negotiated, rather than openly contested, people begin to wonder: Is this a fair fight, or a staged contest where the referee and other match officials have been bribed prior?
If due process is treated as a mere formality rather than a firm foundation, the consequences could be far-reaching.
Firstly, there is the matter of legality. A sale conducted outside proper authority risks being challenged, questioned, or even undone. Then comes the shadow of corruption. Not every opaque deal is corrupt, but opacity is often where corruption takes root. When values are unclear and processes unseen, suspicion fills the vacuum.
Meanwhile, there is also the weight of accountability. Sierra Leone’s Auditor-General has, in the past, raised red flags over defence-related expenditures where documentation fell short. That history lingers like a warning bell.
But beyond law and ledger lies something less tangible, but no less important, which is trust. Once public confidence is shaken, it is not easily restored.
In context, the Juba Barracks is not just an abandoned warehouse or a strip of idle land. It is a strategic site, stitched into the fabric of national security. To sell it is not merely a financial decision; it is a structural one.
- What replaces it?
- Where do the soldiers go?
iii. At what cost to readiness?
These are not rhetorical questions. They are operational realities. The rising chorus of criticism is not, as some might suggest, a play of politics or resistance to change. It is resistance to uncertainty. The public is not asking for miracles. It is asking for clarity. If the Juba Baracks is being sold, then:
- Show the valuation
- Show the process (Public Bidding)
- Show the buyers
- Show the cost
In a democracy, public assets are not private spoils. They are held in trust, and trust, once tested, demands proof.
A Deal in the Balance
Can the Juba Military Barracks be sold? The answer is yes, if the law is followed.
However, is it being sold lawfully?
That answer remains just out of reach, obscured by unanswered questions and incomplete public disclosures. Until those answers are brought into the open, this will remain more than a policy decision. It will remain what it has now become: A test of transparency. A measure of accountability. And a moment that may well define how Sierra Leone handles the fine line between power and propriety.
In the meantime, the nation watches and waits, because when public assets are on the table, the proof of the pudding is in the eating.
Until the full facts are laid bare, this deal will remain under a cloud, because what is done in the dark seldom stays there.
In a democracy, silence is seldom golden, because when the stakes are this high, the buck must stop somewhere.









