A Riposte by Sherman C. Seequeh
There is a strange temptation creeping into Liberia’s public discourse—the temptation to romanticize rudeness in the name of freedom, to excuse insult as courage, and to baptize vulgarity as resistance. Some writers now argue that Prophet Key’s crude attacks on the Chief Justice were understandable, even justified, because society is broken and free speech must be defended at all costs.
That argument is not only wrong. It is dangerous. A decaying society does not need more decay.
Liberia has suffered too much—from warlords who spoke with bullets, from politicians who spoke with lies, from propagandists who spoke with poison—for us to now celebrate insult as activism. A nation crawling out of rubble cannot afford to turn its public square into a shouting match where truth is drowned by noise and character assassination masquerades as patriotism.
Freedom of speech is sacred. But freedom of speech was never freedom to humiliate, to degrade families, to reduce disagreement to gutter language. Our Constitution protects opinion, not indecency. It protects criticism, not character murder.
There is a difference between a citizen challenging power and a citizen abusing people.
Liberia needs critics—bold ones, fearless ones, relentless ones. But criticism must be disciplined. It must be anchored in fact, argument, and evidence. When criticism degenerates into insult, it weakens the very cause it claims to defend.
Prophet Key’s supporters say he is a product of social frustration. Perhaps.
Many Liberians are angry. They are angry at corruption, at poverty, at broken promises, at justice delayed.
But anger does not grant a license for indecency.
If social decay is an excuse for rudeness, then every warlord in our history is justified. Every radio demagogue who inflamed ethnic hatred is justified. Every politician who lies to win power is justified. Because all of them could claim society failed them.
Civilization survives only when we refuse such logic.
The true heroes of Liberia’s past—journalists who spoke truth during dictatorship, activists who resisted warlords, judges who stood firm against pressure—did not need vulgarity to be brave. They argued. They wrote. They exposed facts. They risked their lives without insulting mothers and families.
That is courage.
But here is an even deeper hypocrisy in our politics—one that must be named.
Many of the same politicians who now condemn Prophet Key once clapped when insults were thrown at their opponents. They laughed when vulgar comedians mocked rival leaders. They funded propagandists who smeared critics. They cheered when talk-show hosts tore reputations apart in the name of party loyalty.
When insults served their ambition, they called it freedom.
When insults touched their dignity, they called it contempt.
This double standard is poisoning Liberia’s democracy.
Because the truth is simple: obscenity has become a political tool. Campaign seasons are filled with abusive language. Social media armies are mobilized to insult rivals. Party loyalists are encouraged to dehumanize opponents. And politicians smile quietly, benefiting from the chaos.
But when the same language turns toward them—when their mothers, their reputations, their offices are insulted—they suddenly rediscover civility. They cry about dignity. They demand punishment. They call for respect.
A nation cannot survive on such hypocrisy.
If leaders truly believe in respectful discourse, they must reject insult whether it targets friend or foe. They must refuse dirty propaganda. They must discipline their supporters. They must stop rewarding vulgarity with appointments, contracts, and applause.
Otherwise, their outrage rings hollow. Because a society that applauds obscenity today will drown in obscenity tomorrow.
We must also be honest: the courts deserve criticism. Government deserves criticism. Politicians deserve criticism. Journalists deserve criticism.
But criticism must be rooted in truth, not trash.
Liberia has seen what happens when words lose discipline. Rumors became massacres. Radio insults became ethnic hatred. Lies became war. We know the cost of reckless speech.
We cannot pretend we have forgotten.
Let us criticize the courts if they err. Let us question judges if they falter. Let us protest decisions we believe unjust. That is democracy.
But let us not pretend that insulting a judge’s mother is political courage.
It is not. It is laziness of thought. It is poverty of argument. It is surrender of discipline.
And let us not allow politicians to pretend innocence while feeding the culture of insult that now frightens them. Those who plant the seeds of vulgarity must not complain when weeds grow in their own gardens.
If Prophet Key had evidence of wrongdoing, he should present it. If he had grievances, he should argue them. If he had truth, he should defend it with facts.
Because truth spoken calmly is more powerful than anger shouted loudly.
Liberia does not need prophets of insult. It needs citizens of reason. And it needs leaders who reject vulgarity whether it serves them or wounds them.
Otherwise, we will keep cheering the noise—until the noise destroys us all.
