14 Years of Silence: The Dormant Copyright Act and Sierra Leone’s Forgotten Creatives
By: Edward Dictionary Caulker
In 2011, the streets of Freetown pulsed with song and celebration. For the first time in decades, Sierra Leonean artists had hope that their creative labor would be protected. That year, the Parliament passed the Copyright Act of 2011—landmark legislation aimed at dismantling the stranglehold of piracy on the country’s music, film, and broader entertainment industries.
Fans and entertainers paraded from Parliament to State House in elation. Then-President Ernest Bai Koroma hailed the law as a revolutionary step toward defending the dignity of creators. “The time is no more; they have run out of luck,” he declared of copyright offenders. “The law will take its course against violators.”
But 14 years later, that law—so full of promise—remains nothing more than words on paper. The Copyright Act of 2011 still gathers dust.
The Copyright Act was designed as a comprehensive framework to protect intellectual property—giving musicians, filmmakers, writers, and other creators control over their work and the ability to earn from it. It called for the establishment of a Copyright Administrative Office to enforce the law, regulate royalty collection, and oversee a governing board tasked with guiding policy and action.
That office has never been operationalized.
Today, the legal protections enshrined in the Act remain unenforced. No structured system for royalties exists. No governing board functions. The mechanisms meant to support the country’s vibrant creative community are paralyzed—while piracy thrives in its absence.
A walk through Freetown’s busiest commercial hubs—Abacha Street, Dove Cut, Eastern Police, and Goderich—reveals the depth of the crisis. From market stalls and street corners, pirated music and movies blast from Bluetooth speakers and counterfeit DVDs line vendor tables. Songs, albums, and films are duplicated and sold for pennies, often on the very day they are released.
Artists like Ibrahim Koroma, King Fisher, Jimmy B, Charlie Haffner, and countless others watch helplessly as their work is hijacked before they can profit from it.
“We produce, and pirates profit,” one actor lamented.
The result is devastating: an entertainment industry suffocated at its roots. Talented creators abandon projects or exit the industry altogether. The youth, inspired by artistry but discouraged by hardship, look elsewhere for survival.
In May 2021, during the State Opening of the Fourth Session of the Fifth Parliament, President Julius Maada Bio acknowledged the problem.
“My Government has initiated engagements to review the 2011 Copyright Law,” he announced. “I believe these are massive job creators and incubators for nurturing Sierra Leonean talent and thus further rebrand our nation.”
Four years later, those words remain unfulfilled promises.
No revised copyright policy has emerged. No action has been taken to activate the Copyright Office. Artists continue to suffer in silence, betrayed by a system that once vowed to protect them.
Copyright is not just legal jargon—it’s a fundamental human right, protected under the Berne Convention, to which Sierra Leone is a signatory. It empowers creators to control the use, duplication, and distribution of their original work, ensuring they receive both moral recognition and financial reward.
It’s about fairness. It’s about survival. And for a country rich in musical and artistic talent, it’s about national development.
Musicians, singers, screenwriters, filmmakers, playwrights, actors, authors, and visual artists form the backbone of Sierra Leone’s cultural identity. Without protection, their creativity is exploited—and the country loses not just economic potential, but a vital part of its soul.
Sierra Leone’s creative professionals are united in their plea: Enforce the Copyright Act. Activate the institutions promised in 2011. Protect the intellectual labor of those who contribute to national culture, identity, and pride.
Artists are not asking for charity—they’re asking for justice.
“If we had a functioning royalty system,” said one filmmaker, “I could feed my family with my films, hire people, and invest in more productions. Right now, we’re operating in darkness.”
As the nation looks ahead to future economic development, the creative industry stands as a viable and vibrant sector—if only it were supported.
The time to act is not tomorrow. It is now.
