I have recently seen publicity surrounding an initiative calling itself the Nimba Solidarity Movement, including promotional materials bearing my photograph and creating the impression that I am associated with, or supportive of, this initiative. Let me make it absolutely clear that I have no knowledge of its planning, have attended no meeting, participated in no discussion, and given no consent for my name or photograph to be used in connection with it. I am not a sponsor, organizer, or participant. More importantly, my understanding of reconciliation and solidarity in Nimba County is fundamentally different from what this initiative appears to represent.
Nimba is a county of five indigenous tribes, each with an equal claim to its identity, history, and future. Yet, for too long, our political affairs have been dominated by two major tribal groups, sometimes leaving others feeling like strangers in their own county. Even more troubling is the treatment of people whose family connections extend beyond these dominant groups. We have sons and daughters born to Nimba mothers, raised within our communities, contributing to our development, succeeding in business and public life, yet sometimes facing questions about their tribal identity when political opportunities arise. How can we speak of solidarity when we have not addressed these contradictions? How can we celebrate unity while preserving the very prejudices that divide us?
My concern is that what is being presented as Nimba solidarity risks becoming another exercise in political convenience rather than genuine reconciliation. Some of the personalities now appearing together in the name of unity were, only a few years ago, bitter political opponents. Some previously opposed the very political leadership they now publicly embrace. Political differences can certainly be resolved, and people have every right to change their positions. But when such changes coincide with political appointments and access to government, it is reasonable to ask whether the newfound solidarity is built on principle or political benefit. In my view, unity that depends on government employment, political patronage, or loyalty to a particular administration is not the reconciliation Nimba needs.
We must also reject the dangerous notion that supporting the government is a qualification for belonging to a united Nimba. Our county is home to educated, independent-minded people with different political convictions. Some support the Unity Party, others support the CDC, CMC, or other political institutions. None should be treated as less Nimbaian because of those choices. A genuine solidarity movement must make room for all these differences. It must unite us around our shared identity and collective interests, not demand political conformity as the price of acceptance.
There is a much deeper problem we continue to avoid: our history. Nimba has experienced painful political divisions, violence, betrayal, and the loss of important leaders. We have never adequately confronted the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Jackson F. Doe, Samuel Dokie, Patrick Biddle, and others whose stories remain painful chapters in our collective memory. We have repeatedly swept difficult questions under the carpet, hoping that time would accomplish what truth and honest dialogue have not. But reconciliation cannot be built upon silence. We cannot simply gather people on a platform, exchange greetings, take photographs, deliver speeches, and declare that Nimba is united. The wounds of our history deserve more than ceremonial recognition.
I have consistently argued that political reconciliation must begin with an honest examination of what went wrong. I made this same argument concerning the CDC and the need for its leadership to examine the mistakes of the past before attempting to chart a new future. Some may have welcomed that position when it concerned another political institution. I hope they will recognize the consistency of the principle when I apply it to Nimba. We cannot selectively demand accountability. If reconciliation requires truth elsewhere, it must also require truth at home.
Another destructive practice we must confront is the tendency to treat every change of government as an opportunity to punish those who supported the previous administration. When one political group assumes power, those associated with its predecessor are often excluded, marginalized, or treated as enemies. When the political tide changes again, the same practice is repeated. This cycle has damaged relationships, weakened institutions, and made political affiliation more important than competence, character, and service. A serious Nimba reconciliation initiative should establish principles that protect our people from this recurring political discrimination, regardless of which party controls the government.
We must also understand that Nimba, important as it is, does not exist independently of Liberia. Our population, political influence, and electoral strength are significant, but Nimba alone does not elect a President of Liberia. National leadership requires the confidence and participation of Liberians across all fifteen counties. We must therefore resist the temptation to transform Nimba solidarity into a political bargaining instrument or a demonstration of support for any individual seeking national influence. Our county should contribute to national unity, not create the impression that our collective identity belongs to one political camp.
If we are serious about reconciliation, the process must begin with broad consultations involving traditional leaders, religious leaders, women, young people, civil society, political stakeholders, and representatives of all five indigenous tribes, including those whose identities cross tribal boundaries. We must agree on the questions to be discussed, acknowledge the grievances that have divided us, examine our political history, and establish a common understanding of how we will conduct ourselves in the future. We must confront tribal discrimination, political exclusion, historical injustice, and the misuse of public influence. Only then can we develop a genuine Nimba agenda that survives changes of government and political leadership.
I am equally concerned about any attempt to organize an elaborate public ceremony without first establishing its purpose, agenda, expected outcomes, and source of financing. If public resources are to be committed to such an event, the people deserve to know what lasting benefit they will receive. Reconciliation is too important to become an expensive gathering designed merely to project an image of unity to the rest of Liberia. A crowded platform is not proof of solidarity, and a photograph of political leaders standing together is not evidence that the people they represent have reconciled.
I remain willing, indeed eager, to participate in a genuine process of Nimba reconciliation. When we are prepared to sit around a table, confront the truth about our past, acknowledge our differences, establish rules for political coexistence, and commit ourselves to a future in which no Nimbaian is excluded because of tribe, family background, or political opinion, I will gladly take my seat. But I will not lend my name, image, or credibility to a process whose objectives I have neither discussed nor agreed to.
Nimba does not need another political spectacle disguised as solidarity. Nimba needs a moment of truth. We need reconciliation that is honest enough to confront our history, courageous enough to challenge our prejudices, and inclusive enough to accommodate our political differences. Our unity must be rooted in the dignity of our people, not the convenience of those who temporarily hold political power.
Until we are prepared to pursue that kind of reconciliation, I cannot associate myself with any movement that substitutes political appearances for genuine solidarity. Nimba belongs to all of us, not to a political party, a government, a tribe, or a collection of political personalities.
Have a blessed week.