Yesterday, I signed the resolution to establish the Extraordinary War and Economic Crimes Courts for Liberia. Today, I voted ‘YES’ for the resolution during the sitting of the Liberian Senate – 18 years after the devastating civil war.
Opinion by Amara Konneh, Member of the Liberian Senate, Former Minister of Finance
My father, “Papa” as I called him, was killed along with three of my youngest siblings – all males – along with two uncles and their families, family friends and neighbours I had known all my life in our once thriving village.
They were hunted down and found in their hiding place near Smith Town in the Gola Forest of Gbarpolu County, Liberia, and murdered on a bridge they helped to build, their heads and bodies dumped into the nearby Maheh River.
Their crime? They were Mandingoes – one of Liberia’s 16 tribes
This happened in 1990 after the arrival of West African peacekeepers. My parents’ eldest son, Laye Musa, was killed in front of his younger brother Abu at the infamous Coca-Cola Factory checkpoint in Paynesville, a Monrovia suburb, when National Patriotic Front of Liberia (NPFL) rebels noticed an Islamic prayer mark on his forehead. Laye was a devout Muslim and the third imam of our village mosque until he moved to Monrovia as my mother wished before her death.
My father’s younger brother, Uncle Musa, my favourite among his brothers, lived in Mt. Barclay outside Monrovia for most of his life. He was killed in front of his three wives and children. Two of his three wives were then killed in front of their children when they screamed at the sight of their husband being decapitated. Their crime? They were Mandingoes – one of Liberia’s 16 tribes.
I was 17, and survived that war only by the grace of God.
These gruesome acts were committed by NPFL rebels between July and October 1990. I don’t know who they are. There are no burial sites for the victims to serve as a memorial and comfort to me and my family. The only monument to their lives is my choice, and that of my family members, to live meaningful lives and be kind to others in their honour.
I struggled through the grief and trauma as a young immigrant student at Drexel University in Philadelphia, US. I cried and mourned their murders but I had to soldier on and make something of myself, for that is what my parents would have wanted me to do – live!
Nearly every household in Liberia has a similar story. An estimated 250,000 people died in the war. I signed the resolution in honour and memory of all of them.
The quest for closure
I, as much as any Liberian, want justice for the murdered. I support a special court for war and economic crimes in Liberia. I also recognise that, until today, I had to find closure for myself – and for the community that suffered this devastation with me. In 2010, I quietly mobilised my community from Gbarma to Weasua, Gbarpolu for a two-day session of truth-telling prayers, and forgiveness in my village, Balla-Bassa.
How are we going to finance the costs of justice, given that we don’t yet know what that cost is?
Those meetings were necessary but certainly not sufficient to address the atrocities that these communities and many others across Liberia suffered at the hands of bloodthirsty rebels. Some of those who had committed the massacre of my family, friends and neighbours had been members of the community we lived in and joined the half dozen ragtag rebel officers who invaded it one evening in July 1990.
Some of the perpetrators have died or fled. I support that perpetrators who are still living must be brought to justice.
Justice is worthy; nonetheless costly. How are we going to finance the costs of justice, given that we don’t yet know what that cost is? This question provokes us to think strategically about how to implement and sustain the court, given our limited resources.
My question arises from my experience in planning and finance, talking to colleagues and friends in my domestic and international networks, and my long experience in navigating Liberia’s political landscape which is reliant on retribution and sentiment – and light on action.
Every year since 2010, when the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) presented its report to the legislature, our legislators (some of whom were warlords) tabled the debate for the next year.
In 2012 when I served at the ministry of finance, I worked with colleagues to get legislative approval of a $5m appropriation in the 2012/13 budget for national reconciliation as a public sector investment project to finance a key TRC recommendation to establish a National Palava Hut forum.
This would be a complementary tool for justice and national reconciliation based on Liberia’s traditional dispute resolution mechanisms and build a national monument to memorialise the dead and serve as a reminder of the atrocities that occurred on our lands. Our small effort was intended to begin the process of healing, but inter-agency infighting over resources and a politically motivated peace initiative stopped it.
Counting the cost
Justin Sandefur of the Center for Global Development has published some numbers on the war crimes conviction of former Liberian president Charles Taylor, which took approximately nine years and $250m. The entire budget for Liberia’s security and rule of law sectors averages about $76.5m. Out of that, the ministry of justice budget is $28.8m, the judiciary is $17.7m, and the human rights commission is only $960,956.
Liberia has 11 specialised courts, including 15 magistrates for the whole country. On average, they hear between 4,000 and 5,000 criminal cases per year.
The limited number of judges, lawyers and police investigators – and something as small as a lack of airtime to contact witnesses that could have implicated or exonerated a defendant – are serious obstacles to a functional justice system.
Moreover, Liberia should not depend on the “international system” to finance the cost. The same “international system” that helped finance the Sierra Leone and Rwanda courts was vastly different from the international order we have today. We will have to appropriate ‘counterpart financing’ in our budgets to show that we’re serious and work harder on the diplomatic front.
When will this cycle of hurting each other end?
While I cannot speculate how much a War and Economic Crimes Court in Liberia will cost, I raise it now to get us thinking about what this means and finding a way to fund it. As my country’s former finance minister, I avail myself to work with other Liberians on the fundraising efforts to finance the court.
Political scientists who study troubled democracies say arresting political opponents is a tactic of elected leaders who pull down their systems from within. This is true in post-conflict countries with hybrid regimes. In my case, I spent years studying 1980s and 1990s Liberia and then began to have a kind of apocalyptic view of its politics and fragile democracy. When will this cycle of hurting each other end?
The dynamics that started the war still stain our sociopolitical climate. We have done little to clear the air nearly 20 years after our conflict ended. With this resolution, I believe we as a country have an opportunity to get this right the first time and to move on with a clear conscience.
Weak institutions
Liberia is supposed to be a free society. But its institutions and democratic orientations and attitudes are far weaker today than we realise. That’s because it’s been only 18 years since we started rebuilding from scratch, including our democratic and justice institutions.
The second reason is that our culture does not lend itself to tolerance for differences of opinion and mutual accountability. Liberians have been exposed to so many inhumane episodes for decades that no one sees good in each other.
Establishing the Extraordinary War and Economic Crimes Court for Liberia is necessary for justice and for the people of Liberia to heal. I also want due process, protection for witnesses and low risk of wrongful accusations and convictions driven by political or tribal divisions.
We need a team of competent professional investigators and truly independent judges who will be paid well and not compromised to either deny justice or award acquittals based on the same reasons – bad governance, corruption, tribal and political alliances, nepotism, intimidation and marginalisation of particular groups – that started the conflict.
I was filled with emotion as I signed the resolution at the desk of the Senate Pro Tempore. I felt a sigh of relief afterwards but worried that this might be a political charade. This is only the first step.
President Joseph Boakai must now demonstrate political will and lead our nation through this difficult and expensive journey. For my father, siblings, uncles, aunts and the nearly 250,000 others who lost their lives in that senseless war, this is a victory for them.
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