The Road to Monrovia

14 hours after leaving London’s Heathrow airport, I finally touched down at Roberts International airport just outside Monrovia, Liberia. So many emotions are running through me at this point: excitement, fear, anxiety. I have no idea what to expect from a country that only 7 years ago ended one of the most brutal civil wars in African history. During my stay in Uganda last year, most locals in Kampala were completely untouched by the war that had been confined to the northern regions of the country; some were even unaware that a war had taken place. In Liberia, the entire country has been touched by war and its impact is acutely felt by all to this day.

It was therefore little surprise when the conversation with the private taxi driver, who had picked me up at the airport, soon turned to his experiences of the war. Like many Liberians, he had witnessed people being arbitrarily slaughtered in public and acts of barbarism that no one should ever have to experience. When I asked whether he wanted those who had committed such crimes to be held accountable, he answered that he would rather just focus on moving the country forward rather than looking back at its past. To my mind, Liberia’s past and future are inextricably linked: how can Liberia ever truly move forward unless it confronts the wrongs committed during its civil war? As the President of Liberia, Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, has previously declared, “to understand a nation’s future, one has to first understand its past”.

The accountability of individuals for crimes committed during Liberia’s civil war is an extremely hot topic at the moment in light of the recent report issued by the Liberian Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which recommended the formation of an “Extraordinary Criminal Tribunal for Liberia” to try specific individuals for human rights violations committed during the civil war. One of the rationales behind the formation of such a tribunal is clearly to deter such crimes being committed in the future. However, my taxi driver was sceptical: he held the belief that war crimes trials would destabilise Liberia and act as a catalyst for future conflict. International criminal law’s ability to deter mass atrocity remains a contested issue. For example, Professor Mark Drumbl has argued that the perpetrators of international crimes rarely adopt a rational analysis that the deterrence theory presumes: “Do genocidal fanatics, industrialized into well-oiled machineries of death, make cost-benefit analyses prior to beginning work?” Yet, even if a war crimes tribunal is not answer, I am still of the belief that some form of accountability is necessary. Having said this, I am also aware that I come to Liberia with a British conception of justice, rooted in an adversarial system that places a strong emphasis on holding individuals to account for their actions. During my stay in Liberia, one of my aims is to learn more about local perceptions of justice and the different methods that exist to help transition a country out of civil war.

The drive to Monrovia took about an hour. It was night-time and Liberia’s lack of a reliable source of electricity became clear as a deep darkness had descended over the houses, hotels and shops that lined the road. Eventually, we turned off the aptly-named UN Drive onto an unmade rocky road and arrived at the Carter Center residence, where I would be staying for my first few weeks until I find a more permanent place to live. I was greeted by three people: John Hummel, the Country Director of the Carter Center; Sean MacLeay, the Project Manager of the Carter Center; and Kartik Sharma, another law fellow who is working at the Ministry of Internal Affairs. One Lebanese falafel later (there is a large Lebanese presence in Liberia) and it was time to get some rest after a long trip. My 5 month journey in Liberia had begun.