26/07/2024
Full speech 💬 of Liberia's 177th Independence Day Orator, Dr. Robtel Neajai Paily
FULL TEXT : A Radical Agenda for Re-imagining Liberia
National Oration 177th Independence Day Celebration, Republic of Liberia
July 26, 2024
By : ROBTEL NEAJAI PAILEY
[SALUTATIONS; ALL PROTOCOLS OBSERVED]
As someone who loves this country with every fiber of my being, I feel very honored and privileged to address you today.
When I think of Liberia’s birth as a nation, I often picture fists of all shapes and sizes raised in the air [like this]. Because our declaration of independence on July 26, 1847 was a revolutionary act of defiance.
Back then, when blackness was synonymous with bo***ge, we Liberians dared to be free. Inspired by our Haitian sisters and brothers, who had led the first successful slave revolt in history, we dared to reclaim black personhood. Decades later, when our beloved continent was being carved up in the European ‘scramble for Africa’, swallowed whole by colonialism, we dared to be sovereign.
In fact, our very existence as Africa’s first black republic inspired a “race benighted”. Lest we forget, our declaration of defiance happened nearly a century before independence movements began in earnest across this continent. So, Liberia’s Independence Day should be called In Defiance Day, because 177 years ago, our foremothers and fathers defied the odds.
They attempted to prove that black self-rule was not only possible, but also undeniable. They embraced black internationalism long before this form of solidarity became an act of resistance. Our amalgam of identities and cultures— West African, West Indian/Caribbean, Central African, and North American— was a radical affirmation of Africa meeting its diasporas. This exceptional legacy is our destiny.
Yet, when we talk about ourselves today, in the narratives that we pass down from one generation to another, we tend to forget about the magnitude of 1847. We forget that this “glorious land of liberty” was founded on abolitionist principles.
We forget that dignity once defined us.
Somehow, somewhere, someway, we lost touch with our common humanity. We created citizenship tiers based on ethnicity, class, gender, religion and race. We mortgaged our resources to the highest bidder. We placed profit before people and planet. We silenced and suppressed dissent. We mistook autocracy for democracy. We failed to preserve and protect the cultural, artistic and scholarly traditions that fill our hearts, enliven our souls and sharpen our minds. We fought brutal, protracted wars that left death and destruction in their wake. And in the aftermath of such carnage, we achieved ‘negative peace’, the absence of direct physical violence, when we should have pursued ‘positive peace’, the absence of ‘structural violence’.
Understandably, for many, July 26th symbolizes not defiance but defeat. Not rupture and regeneration but regression and retreat. Not inclusion but exclusion. Not cooperation but contestation.
From 1847 onwards, our negotiations over land ownership, political participation, identity, and belonging yielded both productive and destructive outcomes. Our nearly two-century-old history as a nation exposed both collaborative and combative elements of who we are.
Despite adopting a Unification and Integration Policy one century after independence, we never actually united against a common, existential threat until the Ebola outbreak of 2014-2016. For the first time, in that moment, instead of attacking each other, we stepped into our collective purpose and showed that “in union strong, success is sure, we cannot fail”. We proved that what started out as a 19th century experiment in black self-determination had grown into something larger than we could ever have imagined.
In this, our 177th year, I urge us to re-imagine what it means to be “one nation indivisible”. Oh, how “sweet” this country could be if we only rebuilt it for all of us to enjoy. We must believe that there is sufficient space to accommodate our differences and our shared experiences. That there are enough resources to supply our basic needs and cultivate our God-given talents. And, so, we must narrow wide gaps between the poor and prosperous, the powerless and powerful, women and men, girls and boys, young and old, rural and urban, domestic and diasporic.
Every 26th should be a time of national reflection and reckoning: have we dared to be defiant in the previous year? Have we treated each other with civility rather than cruelty? Have we upheld high standards of accountability [including respecting time]? Have we reduced inequality and redistributed wealth to enable everyone to thrive, not just merely survive? Have we developed functioning systems that will outlive us? Have we taken full responsibility for our socioeconomic transformation?
My challenge to us on this IN DEFIANCE DAY is to BUILD BACK BETTER. My challenge to us on this IN DEFIANCE DAY is to BUILD BACK DIFFERENTLY.
I have travelled the length and breadth of Liberia’s 15 counties and the 16th county of our diaspora, and one thing rings true: each and every one of us wants to live a life of dignity. Now, our methods of achieving self-respect and self-worth have not always been compatible, fair or just. Yet, we cannot build a new Liberia for all Liberians, this year’s 26th theme, until we all possess a basic level of wellbeing.
Dignity must define us.
This should be our creed, our mission, our vision, our roadmap, our North Star, our prayer, our central unifying core and ideal as a people.
Dignity must define us.
Those who came here yearned for dignity. Those who were already here yearned for dignity. Liberians at home and abroad currently yearn for dignity.
Dignity must define us.
I propose a radical agenda for achieving this very lofty goal.
First, we must reconceptualize and redefine Liberian citizenship. What does it mean to be a citizen in this post-war moment?
Second, we must tackle the twin development challenges of ‘structural violence’ and ‘unfreedoms’. How do we enable all Liberians to realize their fullest potential?
And third, we must prioritize nation-building as much as we prioritize statebuilding. How do we build relationships between individuals and institutions of government to serve the collective good?
I have plenty ideas, but little time, so please give me small chance, yah?
Reconceptualizing and redefining Liberian citizenship
In 2021, I published a book that investigates how Liberian citizenship has changed across space and time and what implications this has for our development outcomes.
I discovered that in the aftermath of any kind of upheaval or disorder, identities, practices and relations between people fundamentally transform. From our founding as a nation-state, to the indigenous wars of resistance, to the political rumblings of the 1970s, to the vile assassinations in 1980 and 1990 of two heads of state which culminated in warfare, Liberian identities, practices and interpersonal relations have completely changed.
Understanding why this change occurred and how we cope with it now is the beginning of re-imagining Liberia anew. So, I used the unique backstories of the Liberians I interviewed at home and abroad—in five cities, five countries, three continents—to develop a framework for reconceptualizing and redefining what it means to be Liberian. I call it the ‘Liberian citizenship triad’. Shaped like a triangle, this triad has three points that move from the individual to how the individual interacts with her/his government and society.
Point 1 on the triad defines Liberian citizenship as passive and identity-based. You are Liberian if you can claim birthplace and/or bloodline ties to the country. This passive, identity-based form of citizenship is about claiming rights, regardless of your age, gender, ethnicity, class, sexual orientation, ability, etc. Do you speak Liberian English and/or a Liberian language? Do you identify with at least one of our counties as part of your lineage?
Point 2 on the triad defines Liberian citizenship as active and practice-based. You are Liberian if you consistently contribute to the country’s socio-economic transformation, in big and small ways. This active, practice-based form of citizenship is about fulfilling responsibilities.
Do you obey our laws, regardless of your stature [and I’m speaking specifically here to some of our lawbreakers, I mean, lawmakers]? Do you pay your taxes? Are you actively involved in the political process? Do you build Liberian capacities? Are you willing to invest your time, your talent and your treasure to develop this country?
Lastly, Point 3 on the triad defines Liberian citizenship as interactive, based on a set of relations between citizens and between citizens and the state. You are Liberian if you engage in healthy interactions with other Liberians and with your government [healthy interactions are defined as interactions that are neither abusive nor exploitative]. This interactive, relationship-based form of citizenship is about building bonds. Do you hold yourself, your fellow citizen and your government accountable? Do you offer constructive criticism, when necessary and appropriate, in ways that are not self-serving?
These are the hallmarks of building a new Liberia for all Liberians. So, a reimagined Liberia is one in which we claim rights, we fulfill responsibilities and we cultivate/maintain wholesome relationships with one another.
We can implement this ‘Liberian citizenship triad’ by incorporating formal lessons about citizenship into our national curricula at all levels; by implementing a national youth service scheme to send graduating high school seniors who opt out of university to the counties for on-the-job training in the private, public and humanitarian sectors; and by requiring anyone who assumes public office, whether appointed or elected, to undergo mandatory civics training. For elected officials, a prerequisite for national certification should be assets declaration and at least 10 hours of civics education; appointed officials should complete training within two weeks of confirmation.
Dignity must define us.
Tackling ‘structural violence’ and ‘unfreedoms’
For critical development scholars like myself, the main goal of ‘development’ is to enhance wellbeing and reduce deprivation. Yet, ‘structural violence’ and ‘unfreedoms’—which involve institutions and structures that fuel inequality and injustice—inhibit individuals from meeting their basic needs or actualizing their fullest capabilities. Though less visible than physical violence, ‘structural violence’ is systemic, enduring and ultimately more dangerous. Indeed, the true test of any nation is its willingness to transform the structural conditions that render so many of its citizens hopeless and hapless.
A re-imagined Liberia intentionally seeks to reduce the ‘unfreedom’ of poverty and the inequity of ‘structural violence’. Because the contrast between our haves and have nots is entirely too stark. For example, over 50% of Liberians live in multidimensional poverty. This is unacceptable and needless for a country that can boast of 177 years as a sovereign state. We have the resources—both human and financial—to achieve our development dividends. However, we must change our economic model of extracting and exploiting finite resources, and focus instead on building an industrial base for manufacturing and exporting finished products such as steel rods from our iron ore, condoms from our raw latex, furniture from our timber, country cloth textiles handwoven from our locallygrown cotton, etc.
Some of these assets may not last forever, but the resilience of our people will. So, we must invest heavily in Liberians. We can begin to do this by allocating extra revenue generated from manufactured goods to expand ‘freedoms’ such as access to quality education for all. A re-imagined Liberia rejects antiintellectualism, develops critical thinking skills and invests in lifelong learning from cradle to grave. When I worked in government over a decade ago, we developed a capacity building strategy that aligned with our development needs. So, in addition to educating geologists, engineers and epidemiologists in our universities, we also focused on training electricians, carpenters and plumbers in our technical and vocational education institutes. This is a model worth replicating because everyone does not need to attend university to contribute to structural transformation. Having said that, I must stress that a re-imagined Liberia requires an autonomous tertiary education sector that is fit for purpose.
I must also insist that we shift our attention away from the extractive industries, which make us vulnerable to the vagaries of global capitalism, and focus instead on developing our creative industries. Why not empower cultural and creative entrepreneurs so that the work of craftspeople, writers, musicians, visual artists, actors, designers, dancers, etc, is valued, protected through our copyright laws and fairly compensated?
This brings me to Liberia’s extreme levels of income inequality. The unregulated accumulation of vast wealth amidst cumulative want in this country is not only obscene and callous, but also structurally violent. Lawmakers, I urge you to revise our Decent Work Bill. Change the monthly minimum wage from US$143 to at least US$250 and reverse Liberia’s so-called ‘harmonization policy’. Because a country that pays its average workers below average salaries is setting itself up for failure.
We must also reform our pensions and social security system leading to a complete overhaul of NASSCORP; this way, the agency can serve all workers, including those in the informal sector who represent the backbone of our economy.
If our government does its part, then we citizens must also do ours. When I was growing up as an undocumented immigrant in Washington, DC, my humble and hard-working parents constantly reminded me that diligence and tenacity would be my ticket out of legal limbo. They were right. How many of us actually value hard work? Some of us want jobs but refuse to put in the time and effort required to secure and maintain a career. When given the opportunity, we shirk our responsibilities and demand compensation for doing very little. We must change our ethic around work and propel our labor market into the next century.
We must also enforce the Liberianization Policy by protecting Liberian businesses from the monopoly of foreign cartels. For example, because we import more than 80 percent of our food – including the staple rice – preference for government contracts should be given to Liberian agribusinesses operating at scale. This will promote food security in keeping with the Liberians Feed Yourself program.
However, protectionist policies should never give us licence to lower our standards or accept mediocrity. Liberians must constantly invent new ways to expand market outcomes and play an active role in our economy. Because the display of talent I saw at our Made in Liberia Trade Fair in Monrovia last Saturday blew me away! We are a resilient nation of gifted people who are beginning to dream beyond the realm of possibility.
I urge Liberian entrepreneurs to see the heaps of trash dotted across our country as a business opportunity. See the generation of renewable energy (solar, wind, geothermal and biofuel) as an impetus for confronting the climate crisis. See the supply of clean potable water as a business opportunity. See advancements in technology and artificial intelligence (AI) as an opportunity to produce jobs for the future. These pursuits will create sustainable employment, reduce intergenerational poverty and spur economic growth.
But our goal must be inclusive growth, not growth by any means.
And if inclusive growth is our mission, then we must cancel contracts with poorly performing multinationals and renegotiate concession agreements that violate Liberian laws (including our labor laws) and international human rights standards (including environmental governance). The agreements must be amended in consultation with affected communities and should yield improvements in tax collection. We must leverage increased domestic resource mobilization from these revised concessions to pay off internal and international debt, and clear our arrears at regional institutions that we founded such as the African Union (AU), Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and Mano River Union (MRU).
On the domestic front, we must lead a ‘values-based revolution’ against corruption. My two anti-corruption kids’ books were written for this reason, that is, to equip children with the verbal tools to question the confusing ethical codes of the adults in their lives and to model accountability. We do not need to reinvent the wheel, but we can be innovative in our advocacy of integrity. Liberia has a triple heritage of faith traditions, so what do African metaphysics, Islam and Christianity have to teach us about greed and graft? How do they address gbagba, the title of my first book, which loosely translates in Bassa as lying, cheating and stealing? How do they promote jaadeh, the title of my sequel, which means honesty, truthfulness and transparency?
Because corruption is not only rampant in the public and private sectors, it is enmeshed in our everyday human interactions. We even use coded language and other euphemisms to conceal our misdeeds. Cold water. Gato. Flexibility fees. Dis country you see, ehn da technique? We often point the finger at our government, failing to realize that corruption begins in homes and communities, that corruption is a function of both poverty and greed, and that a corrupt regime is a reflection of a corrupt society.
So, while modifying our values from top to bottom, bottom to top, we must enforce already sound laws while building additional safeguards to curb corruption. We must strengthen judicial bodies and integrity institutions by populating them with impartial patriots, name and shame those found guilty of evading public trust, force them to restitute stolen funds/resources and then send them to jail! High-level corruption, in particular, is like mass murder and we must treat it like the egregious crime it is. Because the rule of law is not some fashionable accessory we put on whenever it suits us; it is the protective armor we must carry every day in our ‘values-based revolution’.
In addition to prosecuting people in a soon-to-be established National AntiCorruption Court, we must also remove corruption-inducing expenditure from our budget such as inflated salaries for elected and appointed officials, imported vehicles, fuel and scratch card allotments. These funds should be reallocated to incentivize doctors, nurses, teachers, and police officers who serve underresourced regions of this country. All government agencies must be audited, and elected and appointed officials should declare their assets for public scrutiny as a requirement for assuming office.
On the international affairs front, we must not allow foreign financiers to highjack our development process. We cannot and will not build a new Liberia for all Liberians if we blindly pander to the World Bank, International Monetary Fund and their proxies in the United Nations. These neoliberal institutions are not committed to the radical transformation required to re-imagine Liberia. Moreover, our socio-economic transformation must be internally-driven, not externally imposed!
So, a re-imagined Liberia reduces poverty and inequality, yes, but it also redistributes wealth, invests domestic revenue in basic social services, protects land and labor in the midst of capitalist re-integration, and expands prosperity for all.
