For nearly two decades, Liberia has stood uneasily at the intersection of justice and reconciliation. From the moment the guns fell silent in 2003, successive leaders have been faced with the question: how does a nation recover when the wounds of war have never truly healed? What do you do when those responsible for the country's worst atrocities walk freely among their victims -- and in many cases, continue to hold political power?
Former President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, to her credit, oversaw the establishment of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) and the completion of its final report. But beyond that, she hesitated. Her own name appeared on the list of individuals recommended for sanctions, complicating any political will to see those recommendations enforced. Her successor, George Weah -- himself once Liberia's Peace Ambassador -- openly declared a preference for reconciliation over retribution. Yet during his six years in office, Weah neither meaningfully pursued reconciliation nor justice.
Now, President Joseph Nyuma Boakai is navigating both paths -- and while they may appear divergent, both are necessary. This is not a tale of two nations traveling the same road, but of one nation that must travel two roads -- justice and reconciliation.
In April this year, Boakai signed Executive Order 131, establishing the Office of the War and Economic Crimes Court for Liberia. This long-awaited move, backed by a $2 million commitment from international partners, breathes life into the TRC's most crucial recommendation. At last, a sitting Liberian president has taken tangible steps toward holding perpetrators of war-era crimes accountable. The Executive Order does not guarantee convictions, but it sets into motion the machinery of justice: the gathering of evidence, the documentation of atrocities, the pursuit of truth in the context of law.
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Yet almost simultaneously, Boakai has presided over events that call Liberia to reconcile -- not merely as a political act, but as a moral and spiritual undertaking. Earlier this year, he led the state funeral for former Senator Prince Y. Johnson, an ex-warlord infamous for the torture and killing of President Samuel Kanyon Doe during the civil war. And just this past weekend, Boakai again stood at the front of a national reckoning: the reburial of President Doe and the burial of his widow, former First Lady Nancy B. Doe.
In his remarks at the funeral, President Boakai said: "Liberians must recognize that our national healing requires confronting our past with honesty and embracing our shared humanity." It was a powerful statement in a moment thick with symbolism. Nancy Doe, before her death, had publicly reconciled with Senator Johnson -- an act that some saw as extraordinary, others as premature.
But even that gesture, profound as it may seem, cannot substitute for national accountability. Forgiveness is powerful -- but justice validates it. Reconciliation may open wounds, but justice disinfects them.
And therein lies the tension President Boakai must manage: Liberians want peace, but not at the cost of truth. They yearn for healing, but not by pretending the pain never happened.
The symbolism of this moment is heavy. Boakai is not just presiding over ceremonies and signing documents. He is leading a nation through the slow, painful process of confronting itself. That he would preside over both the funeral of Doe's killer and the reburial of Doe himself may seem like cognitive dissonance. But in truth, it reflects the layered complexity of Liberia's past -- and the nuance required to move the country forward.
The contradiction, if it is one, must be embraced. Liberia is not a country of simple resolutions. It is a place where victims and perpetrators live side by side, often bound by blood, community, or politics. It is a place where reconciliation and justice cannot be sequenced neatly, but must be pursued together -- messily, uncomfortably, yet urgently.
Still, President Boakai's work is not done. The Executive Order must now be followed by concrete implementation: staffing the Office, ensuring its independence, funding investigations, and cooperating with international bodies. At the same time, reconciliation must not be performative. The divisions within the Doe family -- especially over allegations that Senator Zoe Emmanuel Pennue, President Doe's nephew, seized and withheld the late President's assets from his widow and children -- show that even within families, reconciliation without restitution rings hollow.
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How can the nation reconcile when families cannot? How can it ask victims to forgive warlords while turning a blind eye to unresolved theft and betrayal among kin?
To reconcile is to acknowledge pain. To pursue justice is to honor it. Liberia must do both.
President Boakai has begun to walk this difficult road -- not without stumbles, but with clarity of intent. For that, he deserves credit. He is asking the nation to do what no one before him has dared: to stop choosing between justice and peace and instead commit to the long, hard journey toward both.
It will not be smooth. There will be backlash. Old wounds will reopen. But in time, and with integrity, Liberia can emerge from this process stronger -- not because it avoided its past, but because it finally faced it.
