By Sidiki Fofana | Truth in Ink
In Liberia, it has become ritual for ruling parties to begin dreaming of extended rule before their first hundred days in office are complete. The Unity Party (UP), still adjusting its grip on the reins of power, is already echoing the boastful chants once echoed by the CDC- ” 24 years”, now for Unity Party, Its “12 years for Boakai, 12 years for Koung.” But that dream is under serious threat, not from the opposition, but from within its own camp.
We have seen this play before. In 2017, the CDC stunned Liberia by winning 14 out of 15 counties in the presidential elections. And years, later in Montserrado, the party’s political fortress, the cracks soon appeared. Twice in a row, in 2019 and again in 2020, CDC lost humiliating senatorial elections to one of its fiercest critics, Abraham Darius Dillon of the Liberty Party.
The irony is that Dillon had neither the vast resources nor the household-name status of CDC’s candidates. What carried him to victory was not an extraordinary opposition wave, but the quiet rebellion of disenchanted CDC partisans.
CDC’s undoing was not the strength of the opposition, but the weakness of its own unity. Faithful supporters, bruised by exclusion and unfulfilled promises, chose silence at rallies but vengeance at the ballot box. By 2023, CDC’s arrogance had hardened into the belief that the loyalty of its party’s faithful was permanent, that even if neglected, their base would never retaliate. They were wrong.
“When they left us out, they thought we would still clap,” recalls James Kollie, a CDC young militant. “But the only clap they heard was when we voted against them.”
The result was not just defections, but deliberate sabotage. Disenchanted partisans (more than half of the party’s base) joined forces with opposition candidates, not out of love for the alternative, but as payback, determined to make CDC a one-term government. And they did.
Today, a similar script is unfolding within the Unity Party. Growing protests at President Boakai’s residence and UP headquarters are no longer about policy differences; they are about unmet expectations. Loyal foot soldiers of the Rescue Mission demand jobs, education, empowerment, and recognition. Their chant is no longer “Rescue,” but “reward.”
“If they don’t satisfy us, we will make sure they go one term like Weah,” warned a UP-youth leader during a recent protest at the party headquarters.
Political commentators are already sounding the alarm. “The Unity Party should not underestimate the psychology of betrayal,” says analyst Joseph Wesseh. “Nothing turns a partisan into an enemy faster than being ignored after sacrificing for victory.”
The opposition remains fragmented and wounded from 2023. It is yet to find the rhythm that could cause an immediate shift, Yet the greater danger for UP lies not in what its rivals may plan, but in how its own loyalists may sabotage. A government besieged by protests from its own supporters’ risks projecting weakness long before the opposition strikes.
“UP cannot make the mistake of CDC,” argues political science lecturer Martha Jallah. “They must learn that loyalty is not eternal, it must be rewarded and nurtured. If not, 2029 will not be about the opposition winning; it will be about UP losing itself.”
For Boakai and Koung, inclusion is no longer optional, it is existential. A second term cannot be won on wishful chants of “12 years.” It must be earned by addressing grievances now, not later.
And the hard truth UP’s leaders can no longer ignore is this; they are realizing that delivering real inclusion is far harder than the simple promises they made during the campaign.
