By Rtd Lt Colonel Samsudeen Sarr,
In today’s Gambia, political activism often wears the robe of virtue but walks the path of dogmatism. A disconcerting tendency has taken root among our so-called activists, a tendency to view shifting political loyalties through a rigid, black-and-white lens. Once someone pledges allegiance to a political belief, party or leader, any future divergence is hastily branded as betrayal, opportunism, or a collapse of moral integrity. Yet, when similar political spin occur within their favoured factions, the very same critics respond not with condemnation, but with applause or, at best, convenient silence.
This double standard came into sharp relief after the historic 2016 coalition triumph that dethroned Yahya Jammeh’s 22-year regime. That alliance, comprising seven opposition parties, was celebrated as the zenith of democratic cooperation. But, as with all coalitions born of necessity rather than ideology, it was destined to disintegrate. When President Adama Barrow eventually parted ways with his former political ally Vice President Ousainou Darboe, the reaction among certain activist circles was as swift as it was hypocritical. Barrow’s supporters were lambasted as unprincipled turncoats, while Darboe’s political recalibrations were either excused or erased from memory.
To insist that every political realignment is a moral failure is not only superficial, it is intellectually dishonest. Human beings make choices based on perceived benefits; it is the cornerstone of our very existence. Even the devout Muslim praying five times a day hopes of eternal reward in the afterlife. Why then, should we expect political choices to be immune to reevaluation, especially when national interest, practical governance, or ideological shifts demand it?
Consider the case of Hon Fabakary Tombong Jatta, the current Speaker of The Gambia’s National Assembly and leader of the APRC. Some of his fiercest critics insist that he should be permanently excluded from public office because of his past association with former President Jammeh, despite the fact that he had consistently secured his position through democratic elections and has now aligned himself with President Barrow’s NPP government. These same moral arbiters, however, remain deafeningly silent about the dozens, if not hundreds, of civil servants, politicians, and technocrats who served the former regime and are now seamlessly embedded in President Barrow’s administration. From the judiciary to the security services, the fingerprints of the Jammeh era remain everywhere. Where, then, is the consistent outrage or, better put, the absurd criticism?
Many of these self-anointed guardians of morality have never managed a village council, let alone governed a state. Yet they speak with the confidence of seasoned political philosophers, utterly unaware of the complexities and fluidity that define mature democracies.
Let us zoom out from The Gambia and consider political realignment in the United States, a democracy that, while imperfect, provides valuable lessons in pragmatic politics. Take the public falling-out between former President Donald Trump and tech magnate Elon Musk. Once allies, Musk even chaired Trump’s ambitious but short-lived “Department of Government Efficiency” (DOGE), promoting innovation and clean technology. However, their alliance soured quickly. Musk turned critic, publicly denouncing Trump’s fiscal recklessness, his temperament, and even advocating for his impeachment over controversial matters like the alleged cover-up of Epstein-linked documents.
By the rigid, moralistic standards of some Gambian activists, Musk would be labeled a political traitor. Yet in the US, his dissent is viewed as a product of ideological divergence and not a betrayal. It’s called democracy. Politics is not a monastic vow; it is a dynamic negotiation of values, interests, and vision.
Trump, of course, did not take the break kindly. He lashed out with his usual vitriol, branding Musk “unstable” and threatening to sever government contracts with Tesla, SpaceX, and Starlink. The fallout triggered a 14% plunge in Tesla’s market value, slashing $20 billion from Musk’s wealth. And yet, no American commentator labelled either man unprincipled. Their rupture was understood as part of the messy, ever-shifting theatre of political engagement.
Even more illustrative are Republican Senators Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, and Lindsey Graham. During the 2016 primaries, they hurled scorching critiques at Trump—Cruz called him a “pathological liar,” Rubio dubbed him a “con artist,” and Graham warned he’d ruin the party. The latter even famously quipped: “You know how you make America great again? Tell Donald Trump to go to hell.” And yet, these same men later became his most loyal allies. Is that opportunism? Maybe! But more accurately, it’s strategic recalibration grounded on necessity in a political system where rigidity means irrelevance.
In the American political tradition, such transformations are not just tolerated, they are expected. The capacity to adapt, to build new coalitions, to reassess and reengage, is not seen as weakness, but as political maturity. It is how democracy breathes.
So why, then, do we in The Gambia continue to demonize individuals who dare to shift political lanes? Why are those who chose to stick with President Barrow after the 2016 coalition breakup relentlessly accused of self-interest and moral compromise? Is it not just as plausible that they genuinely believed in Barrow’s vision? Or perhaps found opposition’s leadership style unconvincing?
The truth is far less noble than the critics claim. These attacks are often rooted in personal grievances, partisan bitterness, and a desperate bid to control the national narrative. It’s not about principle; it’s about power.
This kind of toxic political environment stifles debate, discourages ideological growth, and breeds a suffocating conformity. It reduces politics to a zero-sum game of “us versus them,” leaving no space for evolution, dialogue, or dissent.
Political maturity demands the courage to evolve, the freedom to rethink, and the wisdom to place the national interest above partisan loyalty. The question, therefore, is not whether political realignment is moral, but whether it is thoughtful, necessary, and responsive to the public good.
To my fellow Gambians, especially the activists so quick to hurl stones from their glass houses, study the political landscapes beyond our shores. Understand that flexibility is not a flaw, it is the foundation of political survival and national progress.
