Editorial: Heavy-Handed Security Ahead of Boakai’s Bong County Visit Sparks Fears of Creeping Dictatorship

WHAT OCCURRED ON Saturday, July 19, along the Monrovia-Kakata highway was not a typical display of presidential protocol. It was not simply about road clearance or routine protection of the Commander-in-Chief. It was a vivid reminder of how easily democratic principles can be compromised when power is exercised without accountability.

MORE THAN 100 VEHICLES — commercial, private, and emergency-bound — were brought to a halt. For hours, passengers sat trapped under the sweltering sun, confused and abandoned by a system that seemed more concerned with shielding the President than serving the people. 

NO PRIOR NOTICE was issued, no alternative routes suggested, and no timeline provided. The Liberia National Police (LNP) and Executive Protection Service (EPS) executed an unannounced lockdown as President Joseph Boakai traveled to Bong County for a university commencement ceremony.

THIS WAS NOT a security operation — it was an imposition. A complete disregard for public dignity. A disruption not only of traffic but of trust.

STRANDED IN THE middle of their journeys were market women with perishables, students en route to exams, patients seeking care, and citizens simply trying to make a living. Their day, their plans, and in some cases, their income were sacrificed for what the authorities would later classify as “routine.” But there was nothing routine about it.

THIS KIND OF authoritarian-style disruption in the absence of public notification is symptomatic of a deeper issue — a government beginning to lose sight of its role as servant and guardian of the people’s rights.

PRESIDENT BOAKAI WAS elected with a message of humility and reform. He spoke often of “rescue” and “restoration,” of putting the people first. But what unfolded Saturday tells a different story—one where security takes precedence over service, and protocol becomes a shield against accountability.

IN ANY FUNCTIONAL democracy, security arrangements — especially those involving the President—are necessary. But such measures should never come at the cost of transparency or civil liberties. If the President’s safety is at risk, the people must be told. If movement must be restricted, the public deserves to be informed in advance.

WHAT MAKES SATURDAY’S incident all the more disturbing is not just the action itself, but the official silence that followed. The LNP did not issue a statement. The Ministry of Information offered no briefing. The President’s Office did not acknowledge the incident, much less apologize.

INSTEAD, CITIZENS WERE left to depend on social media posts and cellphone videos to understand why they had been sidelined from their own public roads.

WHEN GOVERNMENT INSTITUTIONS become quiet in the face of public frustration, it signals a dangerous shift—a move away from democratic responsiveness toward institutional arrogance.

THE MEMORIES OF Liberia’s troubled past are still fresh for many. The era of ex-Liberian President Charles Taylor is remembered not just for war, but for the militarization of everyday life — when elite forces shut down roads, silenced dissent, and operated with unchecked authority.

IT IS NO Surprise, then, that the term “#CreepingDictatorship” began to trend online soon after the incident. For many, Saturday’s roadblocks were not just about security — they were a symbol of something far more sinister: the normalization of state overreach.

WHEN POLITICAL LEADERS and their enforcers begin to treat the public as an obstacle rather than a priority, democracy begins to wither — not with a declaration, but with silence, inconvenience, and the slow erosion of public trust.

POLITICAL ANALYST DR. Nathaniel Gaye described the incident as a “governance test.” He is right. It was a test of how this administration handles power, public accountability, and its own promise of integrity.

UNFORTUNATELY, IT FAILED. And it failed not because security is a bad thing, but because respect for the people was absent from every decision made that day.

SECURITY MUST NEVER be used as a blunt instrument. It should be invisible but effective, precautionary but considerate. Above all, it must respect the rights of the public—the very people it claims to protect.

IT WAS ESPECIALLY insulting to hear some officials defend the lockdown with dismissive arrogance. Unity Party official Ben Fofana’s claim that the public “doesn’t understand the complexities of presidential security” is more than tone-deaf — it is elitist and dangerous.

WHEN LEADERSHIP BEGINS to view citizens as uninformed nuisances instead of as stakeholders in the governance process, it reinforces the belief that government is no longer of the people, by the people, and for the people.

LIKEWISE, TELLING CITIZENS to “stop politicking” when they express valid grievances is a thinly veiled attempt to silence criticism and deter civic engagement. That is not democracy — it is contempt dressed as control.

SOME MAY ARGUE this was an isolated incident — an inconvenience at worst. But this is precisely how authoritarianism creeps in — not with a bang, but through repeated, tolerated acts of overreach.

TODAY IT IS roadblocks. Tomorrow it may be censorship. Next week, perhaps, unexplained arrests or banned protests. All justified under the guise of security.

WE HAVE SEEN this pattern before. We know how it ends. And we must speak now, or risk watching our hard-earned democratic space shrink before our eyes.

PRESIDENT BOAKAI STILL has time to correct course. Leadership is not about perfection — it is about response. It is about accountability. He must publicly address Saturday’s incident and acknowledge the harm it caused. He must apologize to the hundreds of Liberians who were needlessly delayed and disrespected.

HE MUST DIRECT the EPS and LNP to implement transparent, citizen-friendly protocols for all future presidential movements.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, he must send a clear signal to all government institutions: that the dignity, time, and trust of the Liberian people are not negotiable.

IF THIS MOMENT is left unaddressed, it will not just be remembered as a day of blocked roads, but as a turning point—when Liberians began to wonder whether their democracy was slipping into the shadows of unchecked authority.

A GOVERNMENT THAT ignores its citizens will eventually lose them. Not just their votes, but their faith. And when trust dies, democracy does too — not in one dramatic fall, but in moments like this.