By Sidiki Fofana | Truth in Ink
Liberia woke unsettled as word spread those flames had gutted part of former President George Manneh Weah’s residence. Neighbors and the National Fire Service fought back the fire and contained what could have become a wider tragedy. Yet what they could not contain is a question now whispered across the country; was this accident, or warning?
Kowo, chairman of the Coalition for Democratic Change, wasted no time framing the incident. “For months, this government has treated George Weah like an enemy of the state,” he said, accusing the Boakai administration of turning quiet hostility into action.
His words echo a fear Liberians know too well that political rivalry here has a long tradition of turning personal and dangerous. The Deputy Minister of Information, Sando, quickly rejected Kowo’s allegation, calling it baseless. His denial has done little, however, to calm the storm of suspicion spreading among ordinary Liberians.
Liberia Cannot Ignore that its
politics have been haunted by the targeting of those who stand outside power. Tubman’s “Unification” era masked a ruthless intolerance for dissent; Albert Porte and other critics lived under surveillance and harassment. When Tubman died, William R. Tolbert promised reform but still cracked down on students and opposition press, his government ordered soldiers to fire into peaceful demonstrators at the University of Liberia in 1979.
Samuel Doe took it further. Once hailed as a liberator, Doe’s regime turned execution into political theatre, from the televised killings of 13 cabinet officials to the imprisonment and murder of rivals. Charles Taylor built an entire war machine on eliminating opponents, using both overt violence and quiet disappearances.
Even after the civil wars, opposition politicians and activists have faced intimidation: homes raided, movements restricted, charges conjured, and in some cases lives threatened.
What is now a common understanding is that the loser of today’s election becomes tomorrow’s “enemy,” their security and livelihood suddenly fragile.
This is not the first sign of danger around Weah. Eugene Nagbe, once minister of information, now Weah’s chief of staff, previously accused the head of the Executive Protection Service, Sam Gaye, of keeping Weah’s photo on a “target wall.” Many dismissed it then as partisan talk. After this fire, such warnings feel heavier.
President Joseph Boakai, who campaigned on restoring calm and dignity to politics, cannot afford silence. His government must ensure an independent, credible probe and speak directly to Liberians about the security of former leaders and the sanctity of opposition voices. Failure to do so will cement a dangerous belief that in Liberia, power’s first instinct is not to govern but to punish.
Liberia cannot keep repeating this cycle if it hopes to mature democratically. Every administration promises to end revenge politics but falls back on old reflexes once comfortable in power. If Boakai means to be different, this is the test.
He must make clear to his own party and the public that security will not be used as a weapon and that Weah, like any former president, is entitled to protection and peace.
The flames at Weah’s home are out, but the fire they’ve lit in the national imagination is alive. Unless Liberia breaks its habit of turning yesterday’s leaders into today’s targets, no future election will ever feel safe, and no democratic gain will hold.
This moment calls for courage beyond partisanship. The Legislature should demand a transparent report from the National Fire Service and summon the leadership of the Executive Protection Service to account for past threats.
Civil society and the press must keep the story alive until a credible, independent investigation is launched and completed. Only a process insulated from political interference, one that names causes, responsibilities, and remedies, can restore confidence that Liberia is finally closing the door on the politics of fear.
