A former Attorney General who helped end criminal defamation now challenges an investigative report. The real issue is whether Gambian law protects vigorous public-interest reporting when powerful officials object.
In April 2025, The Republic published Mustapha K. Darboe’s investigation into the sale of assets forfeited from former President Jammeh. The article quoted extensively from former Attorney General Abubacarr Tambadou, who oversaw the process. Three days later, The Republic published his full 12-point rejoinder.
A year later, Mr. Tambadou demanded a public apology, retraction, and removal of the article. But in March 2026, the National Assembly Special Select Committee also recommended a criminal investigation of him for, among other things, “systematic and deliberate violations of the Public Finance Act 2014,” and described his conduct as a “serious dereliction” of duty.
So, the public question is broader than a single dispute: if a journalist reports serious allegations, includes the official’s side, and relies on judicial or parliamentary records, does Gambian law protect that reporting or punish it?
Two pillars of press freedom
The Constitution protects press freedom twice: through freedom of expression in Section 25(1)(a) and through Chapter XIX, devoted to the media.
Section 207(1) states: “The freedom and independence of the press and other information media are hereby guaranteed.” Section 207(2) adds that the press “shall, at all times, be free to uphold the principles, provisions and objectives of this Constitution, and the responsibility and accountability of the Government to the people of The Gambia.” That makes accountability reporting a constitutional function, not just a tolerated practice.
Section 209 permits limits, including those under defamation law, but only when they are “reasonably required in a democratic society” to protect, among other things, reputation. Reputation matters. But so does the democratic need for scrutiny of public power.
How the Supreme Court drew the line in 2018
The Supreme Court gave that principle real force in Gambia Press Union v. The Attorney General in 2018, when it struck down criminal defamation and part of the sedition law. Justice C. S. Jallow’s unanimous opinion set out the test:
“Parliament must be clear and unambiguous as to what right or freedom it is restricting[;] such [a] restriction must be lawful, the legislative measure comprising the restriction must have a legitimate aim, and the restriction must be proportionate to the mischief being prevented or guarded against.” And: “The legislation measure concerned must satisfy all these criteria as a whole, not just some of them, in order to stand the test of constitutionality.” Restrictions on freedoms, the Court added, are “ordinarily to be given strict and narrow, rather than [broad] constructions.”
The Court also made a broader democratic point. In paragraph 53, it drew a line between protecting a person’s reputation and insulating the government from criticism. “A government,” it observed, “is an institution that, by its very nature, can expect to and will be subject to varying degrees of expressions of opinion, positive or negative, whether from the media or individual citizens or otherwise. Transparency in public office is aided by individual expressions of opinion without fear of arrest, detention[,] or prosecution.”
In paragraph 66, the Court drew another important line: “It is important to make a distinction between information or news that is presented or represented as factual and merely making a commentary on a set of facts. A commentary is an expression of opinion or an assessment of facts or of a situation or scenario.”
It is worth noting that the Attorney General who represented the State in that case was Mr. Tambadou. His concession that most of the challenged criminal speech provisions were unconstitutional contributed materially to the constitutional settlement on press freedom that now governs this analysis, a framework in which he played a direct role.
Civil defamation after 2018: what the law still allows
The Gambia has no civil defamation statute, so the governing rules come from English common law, with English decisions after 1965 carrying persuasive weight. The starting point remains Sim v. Stretch [1936] 2 All ER 1237, 1240, where Lord Atkin framed the core question: would the words tend to lower the plaintiff in the estimation of right-thinking members of society? A claimant must therefore establish defamatory meaning, reference to the claimant, and publication to a third party.
From that starting point, the common law developed a set of defenses designed to protect both reputation and public discussion. Truth, traditionally called justification, is a complete defense if the substance of the allegation is proved. Qualified privilege, recognized in Adam v. Ward [1917] AC 309, protects fair and accurate reports of judicial proceedings and parliamentary proceedings. The law then developed further to protect evaluative speech: in Spiller v. Joseph [2010] UKSC 53, the United Kingdom Supreme Court confirmed that honest opinion on a matter of public interest, based on indicated facts, is protected.
For journalism on matters of public concern, the most important development came in Reynolds v. Times Newspapers Ltd. [2001] 2 AC 127, which recognized a public-interest defense for responsible reporting. The House of Lords identified a flexible set of factors relevant to responsibility, including the seriousness of the allegation, the source, the steps taken to verify it, the urgency of publication, whether comment was sought, whether the subject’s response was included, the tone, and the overall circumstances of publication. In Jameel v. Wall Street Journal Europe Sprl [2006] UKHL 44, the House of Lords emphasized that these factors are not a rigid checklist but practical guidance, and that courts should respect responsible editorial judgment. That protection was further extended in Flood v. Times Newspapers Ltd. [2012] UKSC 11, where the Supreme Court held that responsible reporting of allegations under investigation may remain protected even if the allegations later prove to be untrue.
Reading the demand letter
Mr. Tambadou’s letter contends that the article accused him of manipulating a court decision and misleading a vacation judge (a judge sitting during court recess). The article, as published, does not appear to make that assertion directly. Instead, it reports what Justice Ebrima Jaiteh said on the record in January 2025 about the Ministry’s second application to release “tourism development area” lands: “They should have filed an appeal against the court decision at the Court of Appeal and not file[d] a fresh case before me. I was not aware of the [judgment] Amina made. It was an abuse of process.” The article also included Mr. Tambadou’s contrary account. Reporting a judge’s on-the-record words would ordinarily attract qualified privilege. It would likely be assessed as responsible public-interest reporting, though the precise application would depend on how the claim is ultimately pleaded.
That distinction matters because the article presented the judge’s statement as reported speech rather than as an independently asserted fact. Readers may accept or reject the judge’s characterization, but the article presented it as reported rather than as its own conclusion.
The letter also says the article wrongly portrayed Mr. Tambadou as acting alone in unfreezing the lands and appointing Alpha Kapital. But the article quotes him saying those decisions were made by a ministerial committee that included Mr. Hamat Bah and Mr. Musa Drammeh. The narrower issue is the article’s description of Ms. Binta Sompo Ceesay as a “sales agent” in the disposal process. Verification appears to be the sharpest question on this point. Under the Reynolds framework, the relevant inquiry would be what steps were taken to confirm her role, whether she was contacted before publication, and whether the characterization is supported by documentary or testimonial evidence. That factual record is not fully visible from the article alone, and it would likely be the focus of any serious litigation on this point.
What the Select Committee changes
The Select Committee report is analytically significant on several levels under the common law. That significance holds even on the most favorable assumption a claimant could make, which is that the article was false.
Start with causation. A claimant must show that the publication caused the reputational harm complained of. The article triggered public demonstrations, prompted the President to address the nation and call for an investigation, and led the National Assembly to establish the Select Committee that ultimately recommended a criminal investigation and described Mr. Tambadou’s conduct as a “serious dereliction” of duty. The causation analysis presents a significant challenge under those circumstances, given that the reputational consequences flowing from parliamentary findings are generally not attributable solely to the antecedent publication that prompted the inquiry.
The second point is justification. A defendant need not prove every detail of a publication was true. The common-law defense succeeds if the sting of the allegation is substantially proved. The sting here was that the disposal of Jammeh’s assets was marked by irregularities in which Mr. Tambadou played a central role. The parliamentary findings may substantially support the article’s central thrust—which is arguably the relevant question under the justification analysis—regardless of any disputed facts.
Third, even if liability were somehow established, the better view under common-law damages principles is that the parliamentary findings would be relevant to any assessment of recoverable harm, potentially limiting recovery significantly, given that a portion of any reputational consequence would be attributable to the independent parliamentary process rather than to the publication itself.
Finally, the full sequence—from article to demonstration to presidential address to parliamentary inquiry—maps closely onto the accountability function that Section 207(2) of the Constitution assigns to a free press. On that reading, the publication may have operated precisely within the constitutional role the press is expected to perform.
The bargain at stake
This is the bargain at stake. Public officials can respond to reports, challenge them, and sue if the law truly permits. But the Constitution does not treat scrutiny of public power as a nuisance. It treats it as part of self-government.
Should Gambian courts be asked to resolve this dispute, the central question would not be whether the article was uncomfortable for a former senior official, but whether the reporting met the standard of responsibility, groundedness, and fairness that press freedom in a constitutional democracy requires. The answer to that question would turn on the evidence developed in any proceeding and on the application of the doctrinal framework this article has attempted to map.
By Sarjo Barrow, Esq.
I am a Wisconsin-licensed attorney writing in my personal capacity. I am not admitted in The Gambia, and this is legal commentary, not legal advice. This analysis identifies the legal issues raised by the dispute and does not advocate for any particular outcome. The analysis above applies Gambian law, not U.S. defamation doctrine.
