Musa Hassan Bility
There is a difficult place to stand in Liberian politics: the place where your convictions do not change simply because the people in power have changed.
It is a lonely place. A rough place. A place where yesterday’s applause can become today’s abuse, even though you are still saying the same thing.
I call it between the rock and the hard places.
When you criticize the government, those in opposition celebrate you. They share your words, praise your courage, and declare that you are speaking for the people.
Then you turn the same scrutiny upon their own record, their own conduct, their own failures, and suddenly, the courageous man becomes the enemy.
The people in government follow the same pattern. Speak about yesterday’s failures, and they welcome your voice. Speak about today’s abuses, and they question your motives, attack your character, and reach for every weapon available to silence you.
Your position has not changed. The issue has changed. And because the issue has changed, so has their affection for you.
That is the arduous journey of standing in the middle.
By the middle, I mean the ground on which every political actor must answer to the same standard. It requires judgment. It requires taking a position. And it requires the courage to take that position even when your friends are the ones who must answer for it.
If misusing public resources was wrong yesterday, it is wrong today. If arrogance in office was unacceptable yesterday, it is unacceptable today. If ordinary Liberians deserved dignity under the previous government, they deserve dignity under this one.
An election cannot turn wrongdoing into virtue. Yet too much of our politics demands precisely that transformation.
We are expected to condemn an act when an opponent commits it and find an explanation when a friend commits it. We are expected to remember every failure of yesterday while overlooking every failure of today, or expose every failure of today while pretending that yesterday was an age of innocence.
And when we refuse, the anger becomes personal. It becomes vehement. It becomes hateful.
People who embraced us yesterday begin to insult us today. People who called us principled begin to call us confused. People who celebrated our independence begin to demand our obedience.
There is pain in discovering that some people supported your criticism only because it wounded somebody they disliked. You believed you shared a principle. They believed you shared an enemy.
That discovery tests the heart.
But it also clarifies our purpose.
Liberia cannot build an honest political system upon loyalties that excuse the very conduct they once condemned.
Our people are paying too much for this cycle. They work, struggle, sacrifice, and hope. They contribute their sweat to a nation whose public wealth should improve their lives. Yet the struggle for power too often takes precedence over their responsibility to serve.
When public office becomes a means of private enrichment, the cost reaches far beyond the treasury. It reaches the classroom without materials, the clinic without medicine, the household without enough food, and the young person who begins to believe that honest effort has no future.
These are the people we must keep before us when the attacks come.
Their suffering cannot become background noise while political camps argue over whose failures deserve forgiveness.
That is why we believe Liberia needs another option: an option rooted in consistent standards, responsible leadership, and institutions that serve the citizen.
We must build a system that is grateful for the people’s trust and resourceful in meeting their needs. A system in which public money produces public benefit. A system in which accountability reaches the powerful, including those we know, those we like, and those who stand beside us.
That commitment must begin with us. We cannot demand scrutiny of others and seek shelter from it ourselves. We cannot promise change while carrying the same habits into a different political organization. Our own conduct must withstand the standards we ask the country to embrace.
This is hard work. It asks more of us than a slogan. It asks us to accept correction, resist favoritism, and hold our ground when compromise would bring applause.
I know the temptation to make this journey easier. Say only what one camp wants to hear. Leave its failures untouched. Accept its protection. Enjoy its praise.
But every silence purchased that way leaves the country trapped in the same cycle.
We are determined to break that cycle. Some days, support will fall away. There will be moments when the abuse is exhausting,
and the road ahead feels painfully long. We must prepare for those moments without letting them govern our decisions.
The support we seek must grow around a shared commitment to Liberia, a commitment strong enough to survive disagreement and honest criticism.
We want citizens who can stand with a principle even when that principle challenges their preferred leader. We must be willing to do the same.
That is how trust becomes durable. That is how political culture begins to change.
So yes, we stand between the rock and the hard places.
We feel the pressure. We understand the danger. We know how quickly applause can turn into hostility.
And still, we are firm.
Our country deserves the effort. Our people deserve the courage. Our children deserve to inherit something better than an endless power struggle between people who condemn in opposition what they excuse in government.
The journey is arduous. The work is difficult.
But we believe in it. We are committed to it. And we will keep going.
Have a blessed week days