Liberia recently witnessed a poignant national moment: the reburial ceremonies of two former presidents, William R. Tolbert Jr. and Samuel Kanyon Doe. Their deaths, ten years apart, are emblematic of our country's tumultuous history. President Tolbert was killed in a bloody military coup in 1980. Ten days later, thirteen of his senior cabinet members were executed by firing squad by the military government, and their bodies were dumped in a mass grave.
Ten years later, President Doe, the coup's leader, was captured and executed during the early stages of the Liberian civil war in 1990, thus bringing an abrupt end to his rule. President Doe was captured by Prince Yormie Johnson--leader of the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia (INPFL). The INPFL was a splinter warring faction of the National Patriotic Front of Liberia, led by Charles Ghankay Taylor, a former official of the Doe regime and now a detained former President of Liberia.
It is worth mentioning that even Prince Yormie Johnson, who later became a long-serving senator of Nimba County, received a state-like funeral with full honors at the time of his passing.
President Joseph Boakai's decision to honor these leaders through state-sponsored reburials, acting on recommendations from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), was largely symbolic. It acknowledged, at least symbolically, the need for national reckoning. But reburial ceremonies, however solemn and sincere, are not a substitute for justice and national healing.
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Liberia's civil conflict claimed more than 250,000 lives. Many victims remain in unmarked or mass graves; others were never buried at all. Many families have lived with unanswered questions and grief. Their families have waited decades for closure--some seeking reburial, others demanding recognition, and nearly all longing for acknowledgement of their past pains. Successive governments since the end of the civil war have not prioritized memorialization through state-led ceremonies, erection of national monuments, community engagement, etc.
I serve on the Lutheran Church in Liberia Massacre Memorial Committee, and every year I listen to the stories of survivors and their children as they recount their horrific ordeals during the July 29 massacre that took place in 1990. The leadership of the church has held a memorial service for 35 years, and government participation at these events remains minimal.
The families of the victims still live with the memory of the massacre of their loved ones while sheltering in a church compound. Today, their mass graves remain on the church grounds--silent witnesses to the violence and the unresolved grief that lingers. The victims' families, many of whom now live in poverty, want more than remembrance. They want economic justice, dignified reburials, and public acknowledgment of their pain.
One survivor of the civil war put it aptly: "Memory is not just about what you can recall, but the things you try hard not to forget." This quote reflects the burden many Liberians carry--memories etched not only in trauma, but in the quiet, daily struggle to survive and make meaning of immense loss.
The establishment of the Office of War and Economic Crimes is a step in the right direction. Yet to date, it has not begun its substantive work. Liberia cannot afford for this office to remain symbolic. Its success will depend on political will, sustained funding, and transparent processes. Without these, it risks becoming another unfulfilled promise in the post-conflict landscape.
The road to full national healing will require bold steps in the following areas:
First, Liberia needs a structured reparations framework. This should be backed by regular budget allocations and aligned with international standards. Reparations must go beyond one-off payments. They should include access to education, healthcare, livelihood support, and trauma healing for victims and their families. Reparations are not merely financial--they are about restoring dignity and recognizing state accountability. Many victims had their livelihoods permanently disrupted and will rely on official government support through welfare programs to reclaim economic dignity.
Second, we need a national strategy for memorialization. Memory must be visible. Liberia lacks national memorials that reflect the gravity of its history. Places like the Lutheran Church massacre site could serve as sacred public spaces--not only for mourning but also for learning. A memorialization strategy should prioritize inclusivity, cultural sensitivity, and the participation of survivors. Dr. Aaron Weah, a transitional justice scholar at the Ducor Institute, has conducted extensive research in this domain and offers valuable insights.
I have conducted dozens of lectures on the theme, "Reflections and Recovery: Healing Through Storytelling," using my book of poetry to provide a safe space for those with lived experiences of the war to reflect and connect with similar stories as an avenue for solemn reflection and healing. We also use that space to teach students and younger Liberians with no lived experiences of the war to learn and draw from history.
True national healing requires the inclusion of all groups and victims of the war to, in safe spaces, reflect, connect, and genuinely mourn their loved ones. The reburials of President Tolbert and President Doe present a platform for a national conversation--an opportunity not to entrench collective amnesia, but to build a nation rooted in the truth of its history, no matter how unsatisfactory some chapters might be.
Lekpele M. Nyamalon is a Liberian Poet, Writer, ICT/Telecommunications Professional and the Author of "Scary Dreams: An Anthology of the Liberian Civil War."
He can be reached at nyamalon23@gmail.com