By Hawa Wesseh
The events of April 22, 1980, raise a difficult but necessary truth: Liberia’s history of violence did not begin with the civil war. The suffering of many communities long predates the events of 1980, and these tragedies deserve equal reckoning within our collective national consciousness.
For example, the executions of Gbandi and Kru chiefs, along with the destruction of villages in the hinterland during the administrations of Edwin Barclay and Arthur Barclay, reflect a deeper pattern of state power imposed with little regard for indigenous lives. During the decades-long dominance of the True Whig Party, entire communities were often labeled as threats and subjected to collective punishment. The consequences were devastating—especially for women and children who had no part in political resistance but bore the brunt of the violence inflicted upon them.
The reported burning of dozens of villages in 1932—over 40 by some accounts—justified at the time as “military necessity” by officials and advisors such as Col. Edmund Davis, an American advisor, during the administration of Edwin J. Barclay reveals how violence was rationalized under the guise of state order and control. Yet such actions leave moral scars that can not be explained away by the language of security. They demand immediate acknowledgment. AND THESE EVENTS WILL BE REMEMBERED!!!
Perhaps most troubling, as some suggest, is the uneven remembrance of these tragedies. While some national traumas—such as the 1980 executions—occupy a central place in public discourse pushed considerably and consistenly by the remnants of former elites forebears, others, particularly those affecting rural and indigenous populations, remain marginalized or forgotten, but the fact that the current political elites have no interests in these matters is all the more frustrating. This selective memory shapes how a nation understands itself, often obscuring the full scope of its past injustices, while leaving more questions than answers!!
A more honest reckoning with Liberia’s history requires expanding the national narrative to include these silenced experiences. This is not about diminishing one tragedy in favor of another but about recognizing that the nation’s story is incomplete without them. Only through a fuller accounting—openly acknowledged and addressed by Liberian leaders—can there be a genuine sense of historical justice and a more inclusive national memory.
A fuller account of Liberia’s history WILL BE TOLD, regardless of apathy or silence.
