By Julius T. Jaesen, II
Managing Editor
Democracy Watch
democracywatch2021@gmail.com
The position of the Liberian National Bar Association (LNBA) on the Supreme Court’s April 23, 2025 Opinion is not only jurisprudentially untenable, but it regrettably and ridiculously betrays a fundamental misapprehension of constitutional interpretation, judicial function, and the limits of political discretion under a constitutional democracy. For a body that ought to zealously guard the supremacy of the Constitution, the Bar’s posture instead reflects a disturbing flirtation with institutional relativism and a troubling departure from doctrinal clarity.
Central of the LNBA’s argument lies a mischaracterisation of the Bill of Information, both in purpose and in effect. The assertion that the Supreme Court “expanded” the function of the Bill of Information rests on an intellectually lazy, weak and itchy premise. It asserts that once a constitutional ruling is issued, its implementation—even when brazenly disregarded by political actors—must remain immune from clarification or further judicial insistence. This is doctrinally bankrupt and bizarre. The Bill of Information in Liberian jurisprudence is a procedural vehicle not merely for the clarification of ambiguity but for the preservation of the Court’s authority against insubordination and encroachment. When the December 6, 2024 Opinion was effectively undermined by legislative actors masquerading as a “majority bloc,” the Court was well within its constitutional remit to reassert the parameters of its mandate. To suggest otherwise is to advocate for the institutional castration of the Judiciary in the face of constitutional defiance.
The Bar’s invocation of the political question doctrine is gratuitous and misconstrued. It also mischaracterises the ratio decidendi of the April 23 ruling. Political questions are nonjusticiable only where no legal standards exist for resolving them. Article 49 explicitly provides such standards. A two-thirds majority is required to remove a Speaker—for cause. That threshold is not discretionary. It is binding. The doctrine does not, and has never, served as a safe haven for acts that are patently ultra vires. The moment a legislative faction purports to unseat the Speaker of the House without adherence to the procedural and substantive safeguards enshrined in Article 49, the matter ceases to be political and becomes unambiguously justiciable. Political questions are insulated from judicial scrutiny not because they are merely political, but because the Constitution commits them entirely to a coordinate branch or renders them non-reviewable through express or inferable text. No such commitment exists for violations of Article 49, which plainly establishes conditions precedent for the removal of a sitting Speaker. Any deviation from such textually anchored standards invites judicial correction, not judicial abdication. Constitutional infractions cloaked in political theater do not escape judicial scrutiny.
To sound little more repetitive, the Court did not usurp the prerogative of the Legislature to elect or remove its Speaker. Rather, it ruled on whether the process employed to exclude Speaker Koffa from presiding—while he was “present and available”—violated constitutional precepts. This is a quintessential legal question. The LNBA’s inference that “the removal of the Speaker is an internal matter” betrays an inexplicable blindness to Article 49’s procedural safeguards, which plainly require a two-thirds resolution for removal. To skirt this requirement under the guise of “majority bloc” maneuvering is nothing short of procedural fraud—a constitutional subterfuge.
It is elementary administrative law that when a political institution, in executing its function, contravenes the express language of the Constitution, such conduct transcends the domain of ‘political question’ and enters the terrain of ultra vires illegality. That is precisely the Court’s locus standi to intervene. If the Bar truly cares about democratic governance, then it should have applauded the Court’s courage. Instead, it chose appeasement over principle. The LNBA has every right to critique judicial decisions—but not by advancing arguments that betray constitutional order in the name of political convenience. Worse, the Bar’s view would convert the Legislature into a law unto itself, with no accountability to constitutional norms. That is not separation of powers—that is legislative supremacy, a doctrine utterly foreign to Liberia’s constitutional design.
The Bar professes to defend the doctrine of separation of powers, but its own stance violates the spirit of that doctrine. The Constitution creates separate but co-equal branches, not sovereign silos. When one branch violates the Constitution, the Judiciary does just have the right to intervene—it has the mandate to do so. To argue otherwise is to suggest that constitutional violations within the Legislature should be immune from review—an absurdity that would render Articles 2 and 3 of the Liberian Constitution meaningless.
The LNBA’s use of the term “judicial overreach” to describe the Court’s defense of Article 49 is intellectually lazy. Overreach occurs when a court invents standards, not when it enforces existing ones. The Court did not craft new doctrine; it reaffirmed settled constitutional obligations.
The Bar’s further contention that the Court, in reaffirming Koffa’s speakership, issued a “second Opinion” is not only specious but intellectually unserious. The April 23, 2025 Opinion did not constitute a fresh adjudication; it was the Court’s assertion of interpretive finality in light of deliberate legislative non-compliance. The notion that such a reaffirmation constitutes a “second judgment” is procedurally incoherent and doctrinally dishonest. It seeks to deny the Court the power to enforce its own rulings—a proposition that collapses the constitutional architecture of judicial review under Article 2 and undermines the rule of law itself. The Supreme Court’s decision in Koffa was not a judicial invention but a reaffirmation of constitutional supremacy. Article 2 of the Constitution unequivocally declares that “any laws, treaties, statutes, decrees, customs, and regulations found to be inconsistent with it shall, to the extent of the inconsistency, be void and of no legal effect.” This includes legislative acts conducted in defiance of Articles 33 and 49.
Even more troubling is the Bar’s hysterical extrapolation that the Court’s ruling invalidates the National Budget and implicates criminal liability for its drafters. This is fearmongering masquerading as legal reasoning. The Supreme Court’s ruling invalidated the process by which certain legislative acts were undertaken—not their substantive contents unless they were directly tainted by the procedural illegality. The principle of severability and the presumption of regularity still apply. The Constitution does not collapse because the Legislature defies a ruling; rather, it reasserts itself through the judiciary’s vigilance.
The LNBA’s invocation of Article 33 to assert that quorum requirements were met is another exercise in selective reading. The Constitution states that “a majority of each House shall constitute a quorum for the transaction of business.” However, this cannot be interpreted in isolation from Article 49, which vests the presiding authority in the Speaker. Legislative “business” transacted in deliberate exclusion of the Speaker—particularly in the absence of any lawful removal—does not satisfy constitutional quorum because the necessary presiding authority is absent. It is not enough for members to be present; the presiding framework must be constitutional. The LNBA’s attempt to reduce “presence” to mere physical attendance is juridically sophomoric. The Constitution’s quorum requirement does not empower a legislative so-called majority bloc to usurp the role of the Speaker nor does it authorise a subset of legislators to convene and purport to act as the House of Representatives absent adherence to due process. Presence and availability, in the constitutional sense, is not subject to the whims of subjective interpretation. Speaker Koffa’s presence at Capitol, and his open declaration of intent to preside all satisfy the constitutional threshold. The Bar’s speculative redefinition of “presence” as a performative act of “seating among colleagues” is neither grounded in constitutional text nor in legislative practice. It is an after-the-fact rationalisation of an unconstitutional seizure of authority.
Perhaps most egregious or problematic is the Bar’s ill-advised recommendation that “the Supreme Court quickly reconsiders its Opinion and Judgment and expunge itself from this embarrassment.” This is unbecoming of a national Bar. It is not the function of the Bar to pressure the Court into retraction by invoking hypotheticals of national collapse. Rather, the Bar’s solemn duty is to protect judicial independence—even where rulings are unpopular. Instead, the LNBA now plays the role of political pressure group masquerading as a legal conscience. To also suggest that the Supreme Court “recall and reverse its opinions” to avoid “criminal subversion of government” and economic instability is completely unbecoming and irresponsible from a bar once reputed institution known for championing the rule of law. This language is not only hyperbolic; it is institutionally reckless. It implies that the Court’s fidelity to constitutional mandates should yield to the expediencies of political comfort. This is precisely the posture that has historically emboldened impunity and institutional decay in Liberia. The Judiciary does not exist to rubber-stamp convenience, but to defend constitutionalism—even, and especially, when doing so unsettles entrenched political arrangements.
Equally and factually true, the Bar’s insinuation that the Court’s decision constitutes a form of “criminal subversion” is a calumnious affront to the bench. It invites extrajudicial interpretation of judicial opinions and suggests a precedent where Supreme Court rulings are subject to political audit rather than constitutional compliance. That path leads to institutional anarchy. The Bar’s opinion also demonstrates a conspicuous silence on one point. The illegal conduct of lawmakers who, without the colour of authority, arrogated unto themselves the leadership of the House in express contravention of the Constitution. That silence speaks volumes. The LNBA’s failure to repudiate such illegality lends tacit endorsement to lawlessness under the guise of political accommodation and expediency.
Even more disingenuous is the Bar’s admonition that the Supreme Court “has indicted itself of committing a very serious offense.” Such rhetoric, particularly when advanced by the very institution charged with promoting legal ethics and the rule of law, flirts dangerously with contempt. It smacks of populist demagoguery cloaked in legal garb. The Supreme Court’s role is not to preserve public comfort but to uphold constitutional fidelity. If its decisions provoke institutional discomfort, that is the necessary friction of constitutionalism—not judicial malfeasance.
In all fairness, the LNBA’s statement reveals a jarring departure from principled legal reasoning and a dangerous capitulation to opportunism. The Supreme Court’s ruling was neither overreach nor activism; it was an assertion of the judiciary’s indispensable role as guardian of the constitutional order. To reduce such vigilance to a “dangerous precedent” is to invert the very essence of the rule of law. The judiciary is not an auxiliary of legislative consensus. It is the custodian of the Constitution. The Court has spoken—and it has spoken within the confines of its power and responsibility. The LNBA’s attempt to cast the decision as judicial overreach is both doctrinally unfounded and institutionally corrosive. Let it be resoundingly clear: a Constitution ignored is a republic betrayed. And a Bar that prioritises political harmony over legal rectitude becomes not a guardian of justice, but an accessory to constitutional decay.
Let the law stand, even if the mighty must kneel before it. The Bar must decide whether it wishes to remain a steward of constitutionalism or merely a spectator to its erosion. The future of Liberia’s democratic project may well depend on that choice.
Comments are closed.