By Wainright Acquoi
Liberia’s Ministry of Youth and Sports will soon welcome—if confirmed by the Senate—its youngest ever Minister, Atty. Cornelia W. Kruah. This is a significant and historic milestone; one that fills me with hope – and some trepidation.
At 35, Kruah is arguably the first person to take this portfolio while still considered a “youth.” News outlets and many on social media have praised President Joseph Boakai’s decision to appoint her as the nation’s top youth official. In one congratulatory Facebook post, the Federation of Liberian Youth National Secretariat wrote that Kruah’s “leadership [will] represent [ ] an opportunity to advance youth empowerment and inspire a new generation of young leaders across the country.” In another post, Eddie D. Jarwolo, who heads the grassroots democracy group, NAYMOTE, called the appointment her “moment to shine.”
But before we place the hope of an entire generation on her shoulders, we must ask an uncomfortable question: can one young person transform a system that has resisted change for decades?
Kruah inherits the herculean task of leading policy and programming for the country’s largest demographic: nearly 75 percent of the nation’s population is below age 35, with roughly 42.5 percent under age 18.
Within this demography, more than one third is illiterate and less than 10 percent have completed higher education. According to the Liberia Institute of Statistics and Geo-Information Services, 44.2 percent of youth aged 15-24 are not being educated, employed or being trained. Furthermore, nearly 80 percent of young people engaged in work are in the informal sector.
And now, the weight of their expectations and the fate of their destinies rest on the shoulders of a young woman from Nimba County.
Political demographers have long debated the “youth bulge” theory, a concept popularized by German sociologist Gunnar Heinsohn, which theorizes that when a country has a very large young population without matching opportunity, the pressure on social and political systems increases. In other words, the issue is not youth themselves, but the lack of pathways for them to participate productively and meaningfully in society.
The Ministry’s own FY2026 budget hints at this inevitability. Of its $8.78 million allocation, 68 percent goes to sports services, 24 percent goes to administration and management, and less than 5 percent is actually allocated to youth services. In a country where nearly 75 percent of the population is under 35, the Ministry of Youth and Sports spends 15x more on sports than on youth development.
To be sure, sports often defines the Ministry’s visibility. But its legal purpose is youth advancement. Beyond stadiums and tournaments, the priority should be to prepare young people for work, citizenship, wellbeing, and economic participation.
Furthermore, directing national youth outcomes is not an isolated pursuit, but rather an intersectional engagement heavily reliant on Education, Labor, Commerce, and Finance. The Ministry’s mandate, as per its act, is coordination, not execution, within a much larger system.
It is clear we need systems change. But first, we must understand that the path forward means shedding age-old colonial systems that no longer serve us. We must ask ourselves: What governance framework guides the Ministry of Youth and Sports—and quite frankly every other government institution—what must we continue, and what must we let go?
Is it time to separate the Ministry of Youth and Sports, keep sports to be managed by a Commission and finally create the Ministry of Youth Development, Innovation and Technology? Should we transcend its function from running sports tournaments and managing small donor projects to a national youth think tank for research, design, innovation and policy? And can labor efforts align and help ensure a productive transition from school to work and life?
Such fundamental systems change requires inclusive participation, coalitions, and shared ambition. History shows that when youth (or young people) transform societies, they do so not because one person was placed at the top, but because many people built the foundation beneath.
Liberia’s own history affirms this phenomenon. The 1979 Rice Riots was largely fueled by students and young activists, igniting a national uprising that exposed systemic injustice and contributed to the end of over a century of single-party rule. In Senegal, Y’ en a Marre (We’re fed up. Enough is enough) reshaped civic participation that ushered in a new government by voting out then-President Abdoulaye Wade. And in Taiwan, a civic tech movement transformed how government and citizens interacted across governance and programming, leading to one of the movement’s co-founders, Audrey Tang becoming the country’s youngest cabinet minister at 36. The trust level in Taiwan’s government surged from 9% to about 70% over time.
I am not arguing for a new revolution. I am merely directing us to a historical truth: change that rises from one person at the top rarely lasts, but change that is carried by many at the base reshapes systems for generations. Youth power, if at all, can only become real when it is organized, cross-sectoral, and institutional. Not when it is symbolic.
The appointment of a young minister may signal a deep connection to the plights of this demography and an intergenerational nexus, further signaling the government’s apparent seriousness about addressing the needs of its young people. But history shows us that moments like this can either ignite movements, or quietly turn promising leaders into scapegoats.
The world has seen, many times, in the glass cliff phenomenon, that young leaders and women are given the mantle to lead during difficult moments. Not because the system is ready to change, but simply because the system under pressure can appear as though it is changing. Development scholars call this “isomorphic mimicry,” adopting the appearance of reform without changing how they actually work.
Liberia cannot afford symbolic youth policy; it is a matter of structural necessity. I believe the danger is not that Kruah will fail. I fear that Liberia will interpret any potential failure as proof that young people cannot lead.
And of course therein lies the tension. If Kruah leans too far toward the government, the young people will distrust her. And if she leans too far toward youth, the government may resist her. How she balances this tension and sets clear expectations from the beginning will shape how progress happens in the long run.
Yes, it is quite refreshing to see young people finally getting a “seat at the table,” but this moment demands more than our blind hope. We require a system brave enough to change with the moment.
Otherwise, Liberia risks turning this historic appointment into a political insurance.
The Author
Wainright Acquoi is a 2026 Public Voices Fellow of Acumen and the OpEd Project. His organization, TRIBE, aims to re-engineer Liberia’s education system and restore learning as a pathway to agency.
