Published: April 20, 2026
The expulsion of Rep. Yekeh Y. Kolubah is not, at its core, a story about one legislator’s conduct. It is a stress test of Liberia’s constitutional order, and the Legislature has not acquitted itself well.
What unfolded in the House of Representatives was a convergence of political convenience, procedural shortcuts, and institutional defiance. A two-thirds majority of 49 lawmakers did what the Constitution permits under Article 38. It expelled a sitting member for cause. On paper, the threshold was met. In substance, however, the process raises troubling questions about due process, separation of powers, and the weaponization of legislative authority.
Start with the politics. Kolubah was first isolated, then discarded. Once aligned with the ruling Unity Party, he became expendable when he turned critic. More strikingly, opposition lawmakers, drawn from parties including the Congress for Democratic Change and others, crossed the aisle to supply decisive votes for his removal. In a Legislature that thrives on shifting alliances, Kolubah found himself without a bloc willing to defend either his rights or the institutional principles at stake.
But legislative politics alone does not invalidate an expulsion. What does is the process that followed.
The Rules, Order and Administration Committee operated in a quasi-judicial capacity, yet denied the accused meaningful latitude to mount a defense. Kolubah’s legal team, led by former Associate Justice Kabineh Ja’neh, requested time, documentation, and the opportunity to speak substantively on his behalf. Each request was rejected. When the lawyers walked out, the committee treated that decision not as a breakdown of the process but as proof of guilt. That is a dangerous inversion. Due process is not satisfied by mere appearance; it requires a fair opportunity to contest allegations.
Even more appalling is the Legislature’s open defiance of the judiciary.
Before the final vote, the Supreme Court, through Associate Justice Yussif D. Kaba, issued a stay order, directing the House to halt proceedings pending judicial review. The House proceeded anyway. That decision transforms this case from an internal disciplinary matter into a constitutional confrontation.
A writ of prohibition is not advisory; it is a command. When the Legislature ignores such an order, it does more than expedite a political outcome; it challenges the authority of the judiciary itself. If the Court finds that its stay was violated, it could void the expulsion entirely and expose House leadership to contempt. That would not only reverse the outcome but deepen institutional tensions in a system already strained by political mistrust.
There were warnings. Rep. Musa Hassan Bility argued that quasi-judicial proceedings demand full procedural fairness, including active legal representation. Alexander B. Cummings pointed to the inconsistency of tolerating Kolubah’s conduct under one administration while punishing it under another. Human rights lawyer Tiawan Saye Gongloe cautioned against conflating legislative discipline with criminal adjudication. These were not partisan objections; they were institutional alarms. They were ignored.
The substance of the allegations against Kolubah, particularly remarks touching on the Liberia–Guinea border dispute, may well merit scrutiny. Lawmakers are not immune from accountability, especially when national sovereignty is implicated. But accountability must be pursued through processes that reinforce, not erode, democratic norms. When procedure is compromised, even legitimate concerns become tainted.
This exposes the Legislature’s willingness to subordinate institutional integrity to immediate political ends. Today it is Kolubah. Tomorrow it could be any dissenting voice, stripped of office through a process that prioritizes expediency over fairness.
The Supreme Court now holds the decisive card. Its ruling will determine not only Kolubah’s fate but the boundaries of legislative power in Liberia’s constitutional architecture. If the Court asserts its authority, it may restore balance. If it hesitates, the precedent will stand: that a legislative majority can override judicial restraint and redefine due process on its own terms.
That is a precedent Liberia cannot afford.
The issue is no longer whether Kolubah deserved sanction. It is whether the House respected the rule of law in delivering it. On that question, the record is far less convincing and far more consequential.
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