What if most Sierra Leoneans today are acting like Pilate? What if our nation’s slow pace of development, continued corruption, and moral decay is rooted not only in bad leadership but in the passive silence of the people? What if our biggest failure isn’t what we do but what we refuse to do?

In the Passion narrative, Pontius Pilate didn’t hammer the nails into Jesus’ hands. He didn’t shout, “Crucify him!” or spit on the innocent. No. Pilate simply washed his hands a powerful symbolic gesture of moral detachment. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said, as if the mere act of stepping aside removed his guilt. But history has never considered Pilate blameless.

Today, in Sierra Leone, many citizens echo Pilate’s actions not with basins of water but with their silence, indifference, and excuses.

We see politicians embezzle public funds, and instead of demanding justice, we say, “Na so di system be.” When a young girl is raped and the community silences her to protect the family name or avoid embarrassment, we are washing our hands. When tribalism eats into national unity, and we refuse to speak because “e nor concern me,” we are Pilate again. We let things slide, shrug off responsibility, and justify our inaction with phrases like “It’s complicated” or “Who am I to speak?

Look at the 2023 mid-term audit report: billions of Leones went unaccounted for in key ministries. The masses read it, shook their heads, and moved on, no protests, no public accountability. That’s not just corruption from the top; it’s a collective shrug from the bottom.

Consider the alarming rise in gender-based violence. Communities know the perpetrators, but they prioritize family or tribal loyalty over justice. They step aside. They silence the victims. And in doing so, they become accessories not by action, but by omission.

Even in everyday life, we let injustice grow. In schools, when lecturers exploit students, when bribes are taken for grades, many stay silent. “Na so ar meet am,” they say, and wash their hands clean. In marketplaces, when unfair prices are set or harmful goods sold, people witness it and remain mute.

This is the danger of passive complicity. The illusion of innocence is seductive. But silence is a verdict too. By not speaking up, we are indirectly shouting “Crucify him!” By not acting, we are holding the nails. Our inaction enables evil to thrive.

The Passion of Christ challenges us not just to see the sins of the crowd, but to reflect on Pilate’s quiet betrayal. He didn’t kill but he let it happen. He had power but didn’t use it.

In Sierra Leone, each citizen holds a piece of power: the power to speak, to resist, to demand accountability, to vote wisely, to protect the weak. When we don’t use that power, we betray the nation just like Pilate betrayed justice.

So, what if we’re the reason Sierra Leone is moving backwards? Not because we’re evil but because we are indifferent. Not because we harm but because we let harm continue. Not because we shout but because we whisper, “It’s not my place.”

True change begins when citizens refuse to wash their hands of responsibility. When silence becomes protest, and passivity becomes action. Let us not forget: Pilate had clean hands but a stained conscience.

If Sierra Leone is to move forward, we must break the cycle of Pilate’s passivity. We must get our hands dirty not in guilt, but in justice. The bowl of water must be replaced with the fire of truth. For until we stop washing our hands, others will continue to bleed.