Sometimes it takes just a careless remark to expose the truth. When the bulldozers tore through the CDC's Bernard's Beach headquarters, the Unity Party government insisted it was simply enforcing the law. But the gloating words of two senior LBS executives told a different story: that power was being wielded not with restraint, but with relish, confirming fears that the eviction was as political as it was legal.
D-Flow Flomo, the deputy director general for rebranding at the Liberia Broadcasting System, mocked the demolition as though it were a personal victory: "Mission accomplished big time. In my history book, CDC is now homeless. No more tires burning on public road again with they being homeless oooo." His boss, Director General Eugene Fahngon, piled on, dismissing media scrutiny with insults: "When CDC mocks government officials and their families it's okay. When a government official mocks CDC, FrontPage newspaper writes garbage. Keep writing dog dialect."
These may have been throwaway lines, but they revealed deeper truths. They showed Liberians that this government, while claiming neutrality, is not above partisan taunting; that state officials paid by taxpayers are celebrating the humiliation of an opposition party; and that the line between enforcing the law and weaponizing it has blurred dangerously.
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The Unity Party insists the CDC's eviction was nothing more than compliance with a long-delayed court ruling. On August 13, Judge George W. Smith ruled the CDC had no legal claim to the Bernard estate, awarding the property to the heirs of Martha Stubblefield Bernard. Ten days later, police and court officers carried out the writ of possession. President Joseph Nyuma Boakai, returning from Japan, offered the government's entire justification in four words: "The law is the law."
Legally, that may be sound. But politics is not only about legality, it is about perception, conduct, and restraint. And in those arenas, the Unity Party has stumbled. The sight of bulldozers tearing down the CDC's symbolic headquarters was always going to ignite suspicion. The careless remarks of LBS executives transformed suspicion into conviction for many Liberians: that this was less about law and more about crushing an opponent.
Police claimed they found rifles, cartridges, and improvised devices on the premises, allegations the CDC flatly denies. Videos surfaced showing officers stealing wigs from residential structures at the premises; the LNP moved quickly to disrobe the culprits, but not before the images went viral, fueling anger. Arrests were made. Guns were displayed. Partisans wept as the sycamore tree -- a totem of CDC's struggle -- was uprooted as though it stood in the way of the eviction.
The Unity Party should know better. Just three years ago, in opposition, it faced its own eviction from its Congo Town headquarters for unpaid rent. Then, Unity Party leaders described the process as heavy-handed and humiliating. Today, in power, their silence in the face of taunting by their own appointees suggests that lessons were not learned. If yesterday's victims become today's cheerleaders for state power, Liberia risks normalizing a cycle of vengeance that corrodes democratic trust.
The world is watching. Liberia is not an island; its democracy survives under the gaze of ECOWAS, the African Union, the European Union, and the United States -- partners who have invested billions to stabilize the country after conflict. They expect public institutions to rise above partisanship. The Millennium Challenge Corporation has repeatedly flagged governance weaknesses in Liberia's scorecards. Donors evaluating Liberia's credibility will not be impressed by images of public officials celebrating an opposition party's humiliation.
Across the continent, history shows what happens when governments confuse state institutions with party tools. Zimbabwe's broadcaster lost legitimacy and helped entrench authoritarianism. Russia's state media silenced dissent and suffocated democracy. Ghana, by contrast, has built trust precisely because successive governments resisted turning its state broadcaster into a party megaphone. Liberia must decide which model it wants to follow.
What Must Be Done
President Boakai and the Unity Party must act decisively if they want to avoid owning this crisis. That means:
- Accountability at LBS. The executives who mocked the CDC and insulted the press should face sanctions, up to suspension or dismissal. State broadcasters must be neutral, or they are nothing.
- Professional policing. The LNP must publish a transparent account of its role in the eviction, including the findings, the handling of evidence, and the disciplinary actions taken following the looting scandal.
- Language of unity, not division. The presidency must reassure Liberians that this was about property law, not political punishment. That reassurance has not yet come.
The demolition of the CDC's headquarters is not only about property disputes or unpaid rent. It is about how state power is used -- and how it is seen to be used. The careless words of two LBS officials revealed the deeper truth about this government, for all its insistence on legality, has allowed partisan impulses to color its actions.
Liberia's democracy is still fragile. It cannot withstand state institutions behaving as partisans in uniform. The Unity Party must decide quickly whether it will enforce the law with maturity and restraint, or will it inherit the perception of orchestrated vengeance?
Sometimes it takes just a careless remark to expose the truth. And the truth here is simple: unless the Unity Party corrects course, it risks being remembered not as the government that upheld the rule of law, but as the one that wielded it like a weapon.
The Liberian Investigator
In Pursuit of Truth and Integrity