When the Class Reps Fell: Power, Privilege, and Reform at USL
By Edward “Dictionary” Caulker
(Journalist & Former Student, Fourah Bay College, USL)
When the University of Sierra Leone (USL) issued a policy statement on October 25, 2025, ordering the immediate cessation of the use of class representatives, it sent shockwaves across campuses. The directive signed by Dr. Tonya Musa, Director of Communications and International Relations, and authorized by Vice Chancellor and Principal Professor Aiah Lebbie marks one of the most sweeping governance reforms in the university’s recent history.
According to the statement, the move was prompted by “serious complaints and reports of misconduct by some class representatives,” including allegations of extortion, corruption, intimidation, and exploitation of students. Lecturers are now strictly prohibited from appointing class reps or delegating any administrative functions to them.
From an administrative standpoint, the decision is understandable. Over the years, the “class rep system” once designed to serve as a bridge between students and faculty—has drifted from its noble intent, becoming a tool of power and privilege in some quarters.
Whispers of abuse have circulated for years: illegal token fees for course materials, selling access to lecturers, manipulating attendance lists, and even intimidating colleagues. For many, this policy is a long-overdue step toward cleansing an informal network that had, at times, become synonymous with academic gatekeeping.
For the university’s management, the ban signals a zero-tolerance stance against academic corruption and a renewed commitment to transparency, fairness, and accountability values that have often been undermined within the student–staff ecosystem.
Yet, as someone who once walked the corridors of Fourah Bay College, I understand both sides of the story.
For countless students, class representatives were more than middlemen; they were lifelines. In overcrowded lecture halls where lecturers were hard to reach, class reps coordinated assignments, shared notes, reminded peers of test dates, and mediated grievances.
In a system often plagued by administrative bottlenecks and the absence of efficient digital communication tools, these representatives filled a crucial gap. They brought order to chaos particularly in large faculties where lecturers could hardly recognize faces.
Abolishing this role without a clear replacement mechanism risks creating confusion, disrupting information flow, and leaving students stranded.
The truth is, not every class representative abused power. Most served selflessly, often sacrificing personal study time to advocate for their peers. Many acted as sharing lecture schedules, verifying results, and ensuring that complaints reached the right authorities.
But, as always, a few bad actors poisoned the well. Their unchecked misconduct fostered mistrust and resentment. Some allegedly demanded favors, exploited relationships with lecturers, or used their influence to manipulate class dynamics.
The real issue, therefore, was never the existence of class reps, but the governing their conduct.
The University of Sierra Leone’s decision, while drastic, opens an important national conversation:
How should student representation and academic accountability function in modern higher education?
If class reps are gone, what comes next?
Will USL deploy digital communication systems, student portals, or departmental coordinators to bridge the gap? Without a well-defined alternative, this policy could unintentionally create an information vacuum one that breeds confusion and inefficiency.
Other institutions both public and private will be watching closely. If executed well, USL’s bold reform could become a model for institutional renewal. But if mishandled, it may serve as a cautionary tale about the risks of sweeping reforms without transitional safeguards.
The fight against extortion, corruption, and intimidation on campuses is necessary and overdue. Yet, reform must also preserve students’ voices. Real progress lies not only in punishing misconduct but in building systems that promote representation, dialogue, and mutual accountability.
Universities must pair discipline with dialoguereplacing control with collaboration. Perhaps the true solution is not to abolish class representation entirely, but to redefine it:
- Integrate it under student union structures,
- Establish codes of conduct and ethical guidelines,
- Introduce transparent monitoring systems, and
- Ensure that representatives are elected, trained, and held accountable.
As someone who once depended on a class rep for updates in overcrowded lecture halls, I appreciate the practical need for intermediaries. But as a journalist who has investigated student exploitation, I also understand the urgent need for reform.
The University of Sierra Leone has taken a courageous but complex step. Whether it becomes a blueprint for progress or a spark for deeper institutional debate will depend on how well the administration balances policy with practicality and how students, lecturers, and parents respond to this new academic order.
