A confrontation between journalist Thomas Josephus Dixon and a senior official of Sierra Leone’s governing Sierra Leone People’s Party has raised an uncomfortable question: how far can political power go in confronting journalists who refuse to stay quiet?
Dixon, chairman of the Guild of Newspaper Editors and managing editor of New Age, says SLPP National Publicity Secretary Moses Sellu Mambu threatened him after an AYV television programme in Freetown on 27 September.
According to the Sierra Leone Association of Journalists (SLAJ), Dixon alleges that Mambu approached him after the programme and said: “We will hit you hard! This is the same reason for which your friend Samura was killed the last time.”
SLAJ says programme presenter Victor Jones witnessed the exchange and later provided an account supporting Dixon’s version.
Mambu rejects the allegation that he threatened Dixon. But, according to SLAJ Secretary General Edward Fara Marrah, Mambu acknowledges approaching Dixon and says he cautioned him to be careful.
That concession creates the central question in the dispute: why did a senior governing-party official feel the need to caution a journalist immediately after a heated political confrontation?
Dixon had been openly critical of the SLPP leadership during the programme. Mambu, as the party’s National Publicity Secretary, was defending his party.
There is nothing improper about that political disagreement. Mambu is entitled to challenge Dixon, just as Dixon is entitled to challenge the SLPP.
But political disagreement normally ends with arguments, facts and counterarguments. The moment a powerful political official approaches a journalist afterwards and issues what he describes as a caution, the circumstances demand explanation.
Caution about what?
If Dixon’s criticism was wrong, why not answer it publicly? If Mambu was warning him about something specific, what was it? And if the warning had nothing to do with Dixon’s journalism or political criticism, what prompted it at that particular moment?
Those questions do not prove Dixon’s allegation. But neither can they be neutralised simply by replacing the word “threat” with “caution”.
The alleged reference to Ibrahim Samura makes the matter particularly grave. Samura died after being physically assaulted while covering the 2018 elections. Criminal proceedings connected to his death later ended in acquittals.
If Dixon’s account of the exchange is accurate, invoking Samura while confronting a journalist would carry obvious weight. If it is inaccurate, an impartial investigation should establish that.
There is also a separate allegation involving journalist Liam Caulker, who has alleged that Mambu threatened him after another heated disagreement. That account remains disputed and should be treated as an allegation, not an established fact.
Two disputed allegations do not, on their own, prove a campaign of intimidation. But they are serious enough to demand scrutiny, particularly when one of the people involved is a senior spokesperson for the governing party.
And this is not Dixon’s first confrontation with powerful institutions.
In December 2024, he reported receiving a message from then Inspector General of Police William Fayia Sellu saying, “Thomas, you have crossed the red line”, after Dixon criticised the police over the alleged denial of bail to arrested people.
In June 2024, SLAJ condemned what it described as online attacks and threats against Dixon following his criticism of First Lady Fatima Maada Bio. Dixon said the messages came from unknown numbers.
In 2025, he was questioned by the Criminal Investigations Department following a complaint by Leone Rock Metal Group over New Age reporting. Media freedom organisations raised concerns about the use of cybercrime legislation in disputes involving journalists.
These incidents involve different actors and circumstances. They do not establish that President Julius Maada Bio or his government ordered anyone to threaten Dixon.
But they do expose a broader concern: whether Sierra Leone is building a political culture in which journalists are legally free to speak but increasingly expected to calculate the personal consequences of speaking too critically.
Sierra Leone abolished criminal libel in 2020, removing one of the most notorious legal tools historically used against journalists. That achievement means little, however, if formal press freedom is undermined by informal intimidation.
The Guild of Newspaper Editors has consistently defended journalists’ safety and editorial independence. Because Dixon leads the Guild, its position in this particular case cannot independently verify his account. Its broader defence of press freedom, however, reflects a principle that should not depend on who is in government.
The governing party also has a legitimate interest in defending itself. But the strongest defence of political power is not intimidation; it is argument.
If a journalist gets his facts wrong, expose the error.
If his criticism is unfair, answer it.
If his reporting is defamatory, use lawful remedies.
But when a journalist alleges that a powerful political official confronted him immediately after a contentious broadcast, the answer cannot simply be: I did not threaten him; I cautioned him.
The public is entitled to know what that caution meant.
SLAJ has called for an investigation. That investigation should establish what was said, why the encounter took place, what the witnesses heard and whether the exchange crossed the line from political confrontation into intimidation.
The issue is bigger than Dixon and Mambu.
It is about whether journalists in Sierra Leone can challenge those who hold political power without wondering what awaits them when the cameras stop rolling.
Politicians can fight journalists with facts. They can defeat them with better arguments. What they should never need is fear.
And if Sierra Leone is serious about press freedom, there should be no powerful politician whose conduct is beyond scrutiny—and no journalist who is expected to remain silent simply because the person being criticised has power.
