By George K. Werner (former education minister)
Inside the joint chambers, there is no frantic fanning. No lawmakers sweating through heavy coat suits or thick Lofa cloth. The air is cool, damp, almost forgiving. Outside, puddles still sit on broken pavement, holding the night’s rain. Inside, the stage is set.
The President approaches the podium reserved for him. The Speaker — himself recently embroidered in his own woes — yields the floor and gives way to the constitutional ritual of the moment. Cameras adjust. Murmurs fade.
Journalists are positioned. Bloggers are already live. Across oceans and time zones, the diaspora is tuned in. Liberia is watching.
He clears his throat and says:
“The state of our nation is stable. Inflation is coming down. Growth is expected.”
The applause comes — polite, practiced, and quick.
And on paper, none of that is false.
But this is where the problem begins.
Because stability declared is not the same as stability lived. Applause does not lower the price of rice. Growth projections do not create jobs. And sentences approved by the International Monetary Fund do not keep the lights on, fix the roads, or make hospitals safe.
According to the IMF’s 2025 Article IV Consultation and review under the Extended Credit Facility, Liberia’s economy is projected to grow by about 4.6 percent in 2025, lower than earlier expectations. Inflation, which had climbed into double digits, has begun to ease, hovering around 11–12 percent. Government revenues have improved modestly, and the fiscal deficit has narrowed. Liberia has received roughly US$79 million in IMF disbursements under the current program.
These numbers matter.
But they do not describe how most Liberians are living.
Outside that chamber, reality pushes back. Roads crumble and wait — not for speeches, but for maintenance. A pregnant woman weighs fear before stepping into a Liberian hospital, unsure whether care will meet her need or fail her at the most critical moment. Families raise quiet, frustrated children — not from lack of love, but from lives narrowed by limited opportunity. And an economy that talks endlessly about reform remains stubbornly hostile to private business, choking entrepreneurs with poor infrastructure, unreliable power, limited access to credit, and rules that change without warning.
This is the Liberia stability has not yet touched.
Nearly half of Liberians live in poverty. Youth unemployment and underemployment remain high. Electricity access remains limited beyond parts of Monrovia. Health and education outcomes lag behind regional peers. None of this disappears because inflation slows or a deficit narrows.
Even the IMF acknowledges the deeper problem. Its own report points to weak institutions, corruption, low productivity, and poor competitiveness as Liberia’s core constraints. Liberians do not need an IMF mission to explain this. They experience it every day — in government offices that do not work, in systems that delay rather than deliver, in an economy that asks people to wait.
The danger is not the IMF report. The danger is mistaking compliance for progress.
Liberia has become good at sounding responsible. We meet targets. We clear reviews. We earn praise for discipline. But discipline without transformation is a holding pattern. Stability without opportunity breeds frustration. And growth that does not reach people does not last.
You cannot eat macroeconomic stability.
A market woman does not sell more because inflation is “moderating.” A motorcyclist does not earn more because growth is “expected.” A young graduate does not find work because a fiscal benchmark was met.
An economy exists to serve people, not papers.
And when the President leaves the joint chambers — pausing to greet lawmakers, exchange courtesies with the Judiciary, acknowledge diplomats and invited guests, wave to others — the AFL band serenading softly in the background — and walks out toward the Executive Mansion, he will be facing the true weight of his office.
Beyond the applause, beyond the cameras, beyond the music and ceremony, lie the stubborn realities of governing Liberia: roads that must be maintained, hospitals that must be made safe, an economy that must finally work for those who try to build and produce, and a generation waiting not for projections, but for possibility.
That is where stability must be proven — not spoken.
2026 George Kronnisanyon Werner. All rights reserved.
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