By Yoni Emmanuel Sesay
The decline of reading is often treated as a problem for schools and teachers. It is much more than that. It quietly shapes the future of a nation.
When fewer people read, public debate becomes shallower. It becomes easier for rumours to replace facts and for emotion to crowd out evidence. Democracy depends not only on the right to speak but also on citizens who are willing to listen, question, compare and think for themselves.
We can already see signs of this in Sierra Leone.
During public health emergencies, misinformation often spreads much faster than reliable medical advice. False claims are shared from one phone to another before official information has a chance to reach people. In moments like these, the ability to distinguish fact from fiction is not just an academic skill; it can save lives.
The same pattern appears in public life. Laws are passed, but few people read them. Government policies are announced, but only a small number take the time to examine what they actually say. Budget speeches, audit reports and commission findings receive far less attention than political rumours and social media arguments. Without informed citizens, accountability becomes much harder to achieve.
The economy tells a similar story.
We rightly speak about industrialisation, digital technology and economic diversification. These are important ambitions. But no country builds a modern economy without people who are willing to keep learning throughout their lives. Engineers study technical manuals. Doctors keep up with medical research. Entrepreneurs analyse markets. Scientists learn from the work of other scientists. Farmers improve their methods by understanding new ideas and new techniques. Behind every successful profession is a habit of continuous learning, and reading remains at the heart of that process.
That is why development is about more than roads, ports and electricity.
Those things matter enormously, but they do not create progress by themselves. A new road does not invent a business. Electricity does not write a research paper. Mineral wealth does not automatically produce innovation. It is people – their knowledge, their judgment and their creativity—who turn national resources into national progress.
Reading also protects a nation’s memory.
Sierra Leone is blessed with a rich oral tradition. Our stories, customs and history have been carried across generations through elders, storytellers, songs and proverbs. We should treasure that heritage.
But memory is fragile. Every generation loses voices that were never recorded. Every funeral closes a library that exists nowhere else. If we fail to write and read our own history, others will eventually write it for us, and they may not always tell it as we would.
That is why this discussion goes beyond literacy or examination results. Knowing how to read is one thing. Choosing to read throughout life is something else entirely.
If we want that culture to return, we cannot leave it to chance.
Schools should make time every day for uninterrupted reading—not revision, not examinations and not copying notes, but simply reading. Children are far more likely to become lifelong readers when books are associated with curiosity and enjoyment, not only with tests.
We also need to think differently about libraries. Every school deserves one, even if it begins with a single room and a few shelves. Libraries should not be seen as luxuries that can wait until better times. They are part of the foundation on which better times are built.
Families have a part to play as well. A child who never sees adults reading at home is less likely to see reading as a normal part of everyday life. Even a few minutes spent reading together each day can leave a lasting impression.
The media must also look in the mirror. Readers cannot be expected to value newspapers if newspapers do not value good writing. Careful editing, accurate reporting and clear language are not optional. They are what earn public trust.
Government cannot do it alone. Universities, publishers, schools, religious organisations, civil society, alumni associations and the private sector all have something to contribute. Reading festivals, book fairs, mobile libraries and community reading programmes should become ordinary events rather than occasional projects.
Writers also have responsibilities. We should write about the realities of Sierra Leone—our history, our communities, our agriculture, our science, our environment and our economy. People are more likely to read when they recognise their own lives in what is written.
At its heart, though, this conversation is really about hope.
The greatest loss a nation suffers when it stops reading is not simply a lack of information. It is the gradual narrowing of its imagination.
Every discovery begins with an idea. Every invention starts with curiosity. Every reform begins when someone imagines that things can be better than they are today. Long before there is a bridge, a business or a breakthrough, there is usually a page that inspired someone to think differently.
When reading declines, that chain is weakened. People become less exposed to unfamiliar ideas, different experiences and new possibilities. The future begins to look smaller, not because opportunity has disappeared, but because fewer people can imagine it.
The good news is that none of this is beyond repair.
A reading culture can be rebuilt, one small decision at a time. It begins with a teacher protecting an hour for reading. A parent opening a book with a child. A library welcoming young readers. A newspaper choosing quality over speed. A government recognising that books deserve investment just as roads and bridges do.
The future of Sierra Leone will not be shaped only by the resources beneath our soil or the infrastructure we build above it. It will also depend on the habits we cultivate in our minds.
A nation that stops reading loses more than books. It risks losing curiosity, good judgment and the confidence to question easy answers. But that future is not fixed.
Hope begins to return the moment people begin reading again. This version sounds more like a seasoned newspaper columnist than AI. It avoids repetitive rhetorical patterns, varies sentence length, replaces abstract language with concrete examples, and ends with a quieter, more memorable conclusion. It should read naturally to editors and readers without the polished uniformity that often signals AI-generated prose.