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Rachel Gbenyon Diggs
The Before and the After:
A Cry and Call for Our Children
I hold peaceful memories of what Liberia was like for children before 1980. It was a time when socio-economic growth was everywhere, when the rich rewards of private enterprise had begun to flow like milk from a newly tapped giant rubber tree. Liberia was bursting with promise, a glorious mix of African and Western cultures and burgeoning advancements in education. Everywhere—from Bomi Hills to Zorzor, from Sinkor to Saclepea—there was a sense of anticipation and optimism. It was a time before warlords and their power-crazed conspirators sent children, with adult-sized guns to massacre innocent people in towns and villages; before teen-age boys, poisoned with dope, caused such carnage that their leaders were able to destroy every semblance of good governance.
We have come a long way. I recall my own early days in the tiny coastal city of Edina when there was no electricity, no running water, no local hospital, no vehicles and no television. But there was peace and there was, above all, an overriding hope. My friends and I ran about freely as children. During the day, warmed by the sunshine, we splashed in the ocean and ran along golden, unspoiled beaches, while at night we sang songs under the moonlight, and laughed with the innocent joy that is the right of all children. In school we learned valuable lessons about sharing and caring. We learned from our families that “no one is an island,” that each of us were responsible to and for each other. This was our education of the heart. In school, we also learned that the only way to a better future was to have an educated mind. We developed a profound capacity for memorization. Because we had no paper, we wrote lessons on slate boards and sometimes in the sand. We did not have computers then, but we did develop computerized memories. This was our education of the mind. No, it was not a perfect world, but it was certainly an idyllic childhood.
As we grew older, we saw that Liberia's most significant asset was her human resources. As a result of the strengthening of institutions of higher learning, as well as a vast national and foreign scholarship program, Liberia's pool of educated talent constituted one of the highest per capita on the African continent. Some of our venerable institutions included Liberia College, founded in 1862, and incorporated into a University in 1951; Cuttington University College, established in 1889 under the sponsorship of the Episcopal Church; the Booker Washington Agricultural and Industrial Institute, the oldest vocational training school in Africa established in 1929; and the College of West Africa, founded in 1839. These institutions were open to every Liberian.
Due largely to its deep pool of trained human capital and a broadening economy, Liberia in the late 1960s and early 1970s experienced a dramatic rate of economic growth. During that period, Liberia was considered by many economists to be one of the few success stories among the developing countries. By virtue of its expanding economy, Liberia was able to generate revenue that significantly exceeded its public sector expenditures. A phenomenal 5.5 percent growth rate during that period, which included growth in agriculture (6.5 percent), industry (6.2 percent) and manufacturing (13.2 percent) put Liberia not only far ahead of most of its African neighbors, but roughly on par with growth rates experienced by the post-war industrial nations of Japan and West Germany. Then came the woeful collapse of the country.
The young Liberian child today is one whose constant companions are desperation, danger and early death, yet that child also stands at the crossroads of peril and promise. Which direction the Liberian child takes at this juncture will depend on what we do, or what we fail to do. If we can summon the vision and courage to act together, we can resurrect hope, recapture our long-lost dreams and restore a sense of self-worth and inherent dignity in our children. We must be advocates and join in answering the urgent, anguished cry of our young.
Some may ask, "Why is there no future for the Liberian child? Hasn't peace come to Liberia?" A response to those questions may be found in this quote from the Dalai Lama: "Peace, in the sense of the absence of war, is of little value to someone who is dying of hunger or cold. It will not remove the pain of torture . . . It does not comfort those who have lost their loved ones . . . Peace can only last where human rights are respected, where the people are fed, and where individuals and nations are free."
In his book, Intervention in Africa: Superpower Peacemaking in a Troubled Continent (Studies in Diplomacy), former US Assistant Secretary of State for Africa, Herman Cohen, writes, "In a technical sense, Liberia's civil war began on December 24, 1989, when a hundred armed insurgents crossed into Nimba. In a larger sense, the war began on April 12, 1980, when seventeen inebriated noncommissioned officers of the Armed Forces of Liberia invaded the presidential palace and assassinated President Tolbert. These same soldiers then took power by establishing a "People's Redemption Council" with Master Sergeant Samuel Doe as Chairman and Head of State."1
In the chapter "Liberia: A Bold Plan Hijacked" Secretary Cohen writes, "In addition to its scorched-earth policy, Doe's cadre embarked on a major expansion of the army. Rapid recruitment sucked thousands of unscreened youth, prison graduates, drug dealers, and previously expelled military delinquents. Expanding expenditures for equipment, arms, uniforms, and the like, created new opportunities for corruption, thereby not only wasting money but also increasing repression and extortion against innocent Liberians."2
A Report compiled by the Lawyers Committee for Human Rights on the 1980 coup, "Liberia: A Promise Betrayed," cites some graphic examples:
Summary killings, often accompanied by acts of savage brutality, have been a recurring feature of Liberian life since the very moment Samuel Doe and his young compatriots seized power in 1980. Indeed, their first act was to murder the President, William Tolbert, as he lay in his pajamas in the upstairs master bedroom at the Executive Mansion. The soldiers were reported to have disemboweled the dead leader and gouged out one of his eyes with a bayonet. They displayed his mutilated body for two days at the John F. Kennedy Hospital morgue, then buried him with 27 others in a mass grave.
In ensuing days and weeks, enlisted men, flush with their new-found power, killed an estimated 200 people in a spree of looting and reprisals. The most prominent victims were the 13 high officials of the deposed regime who were perfunctorily tried and then executed by a drunken firing squad two weeks after the coup. The televised image of those 13 men—their bloodied, half-naked bodies dangling from a row of telephone poles on the beach outside the Barclay Training Center (BTC)—alarmed many Liberians who had initially welcomed the coup, even allies such as Charles Taylor. They feared that a regime, spawned from so much blood, would be hard-pressed not to rule that way. Their fears turned out to be well-founded.3
The lawlessness and brutality continued unabated well into 1985, giving rise to an attempted coup on November 12, 1985. It was masterminded by General Thomas Quiwonkpa, one of Doe's former closest allies. An eyewitness account from a civilian who spent two weeks in detention, including nine days in a cell behind the Executive Mansion, provides this description of the carnage:
This is how it was done. They [Doe's security] took 15 people at a time. After shooting the people, they would cut off parts of their bodies. Then they would force the other prisoners inside to eat the human body parts. Some of them refused. The soldiers forced them to eat the flesh. I saw one of them shove a head into a prisoner's mouth. They broke his teeth. In one case, they opened the stomach of a corpse. Then they forced the prisoner to put his genitals in the stomach of the dead man, as a grotesque sexual act.4
Another eyewitness relates the murder of a prominent broadcast journalist:
Charles Gbenyon, aged 29, was Editor-in-Chief of the Liberian Broadcasting System (LBS) television station. Throughout November 12, 1985, a crew from LBS filmed the coup attempt as it developed. They interviewed Quiwonkpa, and followed the rebel leader as he moved back and forth between the radio station and the BTC. They filmed the arrests of officials of the Doe regime during the early hours of the coup. They also captured vivid images of exultant Liberians celebrating what they thought was a successful coup. The resulting videotape, copies of which became easily obtainable, provides an extraordinary record of the events of November 12. Charles Gbenyon's decision to broadcast the videotape infuriated Doe. A day later, on November 13, Doe visited LBS studios to make a broadcast affirming that he had regained control of the country. Gbenyon, in his capacity as Editor-in-Chief, approached the Head of State to ask questions. According to press report, Doe shouted obscenities at Gbenyon. Then his security guards seized the journalist, beat him, and bundled him off in an army jeep as astonished reporters looked on. Gbenyon was last seen by his colleagues in the back of an army jeep, stripped down to his briefs and handcuffed. He was then taken to the Executive Mansion.5
Doe later claimed, through his press secretary, that Charles Gbenyon "accidentally shot himself while struggling with soldiers over a pistol said to have been in his possession." A soldier who was detained on the grounds of the Executive Mansion on November 13 stated without equivocation that Charles Gbenyon had indeed been bayoneted to death. "I actually saw his body," the soldier said. "He was a friend of mine, a personal friend. They had actually ripped his head off his body with a bayonet. The skin of his neck was just holding his head on his body. I didn't see any other stab wounds."6
Charles Gbenyon was my younger brother. Our family was never able to recover his body. Other eyewitnesses confirm that he was buried in a mass grave.
In the Liberian experience, unlike television infomercials, the after is much uglier than the before. In the before, Liberia served as a beacon of hope for democracy in Africa. Liberia took a lead role in promoting independence in other African countries. Even during the years when the Liberian Government could only afford to pay some top officials a meager salary of $133.33 a month, Liberia was providing scholarships for rising leaders in other colonized African countries and substantial sums to freedom fighters in Angola, South Africa, Mozambique, Namibia and Zimbabwe. Liberia also took the lead in creating institutions such as the Organization of African Unity (OAU), the African Development Bank ( AfDB) and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). These institutions continue to stand as pillars of stability and economic development in Africa.
In the before, Liberia and La Cote d'Ivoire were the only two African countries to qualify for hard loans from the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development (IBRD); and, as a founding member of the United Nations, Liberia cast the deciding vote for the creation of the modern state of Israel. In the after, Liberia is classified among the poorest of the poor countries in Africa. Burdened by a debt estimated at over 3.5 billion USD, an economy in shambles, a totally devastated infrastructure, with unemployment at 85 percent, illiteracy at 80 percent, stained with an image of corruption, Liberia has been declared a failed state. The few existing schools are substandard and healthcare is almost non-existent. The capital city barely has electricity or clean pipe-borne water. The fact is, Liberia is not a "developing nation" but rather, it's an un-developing nation. This is the awesome challenge facing those who want to save the future of the Liberian child.
Who bears the blame? The Liberian "Big Men" who have been a bane in our lives for over a quarter century? Who creates these "Big Men" all over Africa? Who bears the blame for creating the cesspools in which these "Big Men" thrive?
Do the continuing legacies of Cold War policies toward Africa bear some responsibility for the cycles of violence and economic problems plaguing the continent? Should we lay the blame at the feet of the unimpeded inflow of arms to Africa? How much responsibility must the Liberian people themselves bear for making wrong choices, based on lies?
These are the questions that come to us as human rights advocates. Do we have the courage to seek the truth, setting aside our personal political agendas? In his Commencement Address to his 2006 graduates, Vanderbilt University Chancellor Gordon Gee asked: "So what has happened in our psyche to make deceit the norm and integrity such a surprise and truth such a risk? And why has it become an odd act of courage now to be honest? Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, "the only real currency we have—the only currency whose value does not fluctuate—is truth and our ability to seek it out." We Liberians must start our quest for truth.
A World Policy Institute report on arms flow to Africa reveals, "Throughout the Cold War (1950-1989), the United States delivered over $1.5 billion worth of weaponry to Africa. Many of the top US arms clients—Liberia, Somalia, the Sudan, and Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of the Congo)—have turned out to be the top basket cases of the 1990s in terms of violence, instability, and economic collapse."7 And yet the international community continues to respond to Africa's woes by helping to strengthen African militaries that in the ugly past have been the agents of state-sponsored terrorism against citizens.
The current US administration has undertaken renewed military training programs in Liberia. The UN Security Council has "adjusted" the arms embargo imposed on Liberia, allowing for weapons and ammunition to be used for “training purposes” and by members of the government, police and security forces. In that same week, the US Embassy in Liberia issued a travel warning indicating that the US State Department "continues to urge American citizens to consider carefully the risks of travel to Liberia." The embassy in Monrovia strongly advised American nationals in its employ not to go out of doors alone. Calling the Liberian situation "unpredictable," the warning said, "There remains an undercurrent of political and social tension and economic hardship that could result in sporadic violence and instability." This raises the legitimate question: why has priority been given to US military training programs in Liberia?
The World Policy Institute report further states, "by restricting the flow of weapons and training and increasing support for sustainable development policies, the US could help create the conditions needed for peace and stability to take root."8 President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf's clarion call for today's Liberia has been "education, education, and more education." Was anyone listening?
Defenders of U.S. military training program continue to argue that their "programs are designed to promote peacekeeping and professionalism, not proliferation and war.” Whatever the intention may be, military skills and equipment provided to young men and women, drawn from a populace with 80 percent illiteracy, carry the risk of disastrous consequences. This is especially true in a situation where there is good reason to fear that the principals and ex-combatants, from all sides in the war, have turned in only some of their weapons and have hidden the rest.
The United States of America is not alone in undertaking these military training programs throughout Africa. Many of America’s closest allies are also involved. The World Policy Institute's report adds:
The history of overt and covert weapons trafficking to the region has helped nourish the informal networks which are now often the main source of supply for the world's most vicious ethnic conflicts. Therefore, if other countries, whatever their political agenda, are to play a credible role in resolving and preventing wars in Africa, they should focus on reducing their military role in the region, not expanding it. This is especially true in Liberia, where former warlords sit in every branch of the government.9
Other defenders of military programs argue that "guns don't kill people, people kill people." The tobacco companies, too, once said that “cigarettes don't kill, smoking does.” We have come a long way from this argument. We must join in meaningful efforts to give the Liberian child an opportunity to avoid these perils and to embrace a hope filled with promise and attainable dreams. We must join our voices in appeal to the international community, the five permanent members of the Security Council in particular, to redirect their focus away from strengthening military capacity and toward promoting human development in Africa. In the words of Noam Chomsky, "States are not moral agents; people are, and can impose moral standards on powerful institutions. If they do not, the fine words will remain weapons."10
It is the moral imperative of every person who considers Liberia his or her home, and to human rights advocates the world over, to get involved in recapturing the vision and glory that once was ours; in rekindling the beacon light of hope and harmony that attracted other Africans to our shores; and in re-instilling in our children the once cherished Liberian values that made our small country a giant on the African continent and on the world stage.
This is our challenge. Nothing we ever do can be more honorable.
Footnotes
1. Macmillan (October 6, 2000) p. 126.
2. Ibid. p. 131.
3. Bill Berkeley (ed.) Lawyers Committee for Human Rights (December 1986).
4.Ibid.
5.Ibid.
6.Ibid.
7.May 1995. http://www.worldpolicy.org/projects/arms/reports.html
8.Ibid.
9.Ibid.
10.Tony Evans (ed.), "The United States and the "Challenge of Relativity"."
Human Rights Fifty Years on: A Reappraisal (November 1998).
Copyright © Rachel Gbenyon Diggs
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