IN LIBERIA’S complex and turbulent political landscape, few voices have commanded as much respect — both nationally and internationally — as that of Leymah Gbowee. A Nobel Peace Prize laureate known for her tireless advocacy for justice, peace, and women’s rights, Gbowee has long served as a moral compass for a nation too often mired in chaos and corruption.
HER WORDS have never been taken lightly. But recently, it was not her criticism that caught the nation’s attention — it was her rare and unflinching admission of error.
“I was wrong in my criticism of Ellen,” Gbowee confessed in a candid interview with FrontPage Africa. “She did exceptionally well. We have two other governments to measure her government with, and they make her government look like a diamond.”
THAT SINGLE statement has rocked Liberia’s political class. Not simply because of what it says about former President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, but because of what it implies — what it confirms — about her successors: George Weah and Joseph Nyuma Boakai.
THIS IS not merely a compliment to a former president. It is a scathing condemnation of the two men who followed her, and a brutal reality check for Liberians who once hoped these leaders would usher in a new era.
WHEN GBOWEE resigned from the Peace and Reconciliation Commission in 2012, her departure came with a fierce rebuke of Sirleaf’s leadership. She denounced Sirleaf’s failure to crack down on corruption and her perceived inability to deliver concrete progress to Liberia’s poorest citizens. Her critique was widely seen as courageous at the time.
BUT NOW, Gbowee’s recalibration of that view has taken on historic weight — not because Sirleaf has changed, but because the country’s descent under Weah and Boakai has been so drastic, so visible, that even Sirleaf’s controversial tenure now appears noble in contrast.
“We have two other governments to measure her government with,” she said again. “And they make her government look like a diamond.”
HERE, THE word “diamond” is not just poetic. It is surgical. It exposes the comparative rot that has since unfolded. In Gbowee’s eyes, Sirleaf’s government, once scorned, now shines when held up against the degraded standards set by her successors.
THE SHIFT in Gbowee’s assessment cuts particularly deep because it exposes a truth many Liberians have come to feel but few have dared articulate so boldly: that the nation’s leadership has regressed — not evolved.
IN GBOWEE’Sown words: “I believe that if we begin to elect leaders that love the people more than their foreign bank accounts, we’ll begin to see progress.”
THAT LINE doesn’t just sting. It lands like an indictment. Gbowee doesn’t have to name Weah or Boakai. Their reputations now speak for themselves.
UNDER GEORGE Weah, Liberia witnessed a presidency defined more by optics than substance. While the former soccer star came into office with overwhelming popular support, his administration was quickly mired in allegations of systemic corruption. U.S. sanctions were slapped on his closest allies — Nathaniel McGill, Bill Tweahway, and Syrenius Cephus —accused of enriching themselves off the backs of Liberians.
ALTHOUGH WEAH took the token step of suspending them, no legal consequences followed. Worse, some of them have returned to public life. Today, McGill and Tweahway hold seats in the Liberian Senate, a stunning reflection of Liberia’s entrenched political impunity.
“Everyone sees government as the place to get rich,” Gbowee observed—a cutting truth few in power will challenge.
WEAH’S TIME in office, once seen as the hope of a new generation, became a cautionary tale in populism gone awry. His lavish lifestyle, persistent absenteeism, and failure to address Liberia’s foundational issues ultimately earned him condemnation — not just from critics, but from disillusioned supporters.
IF WEAH’S government failed by overpromising and underdelivering, Joseph Boakai’s may be failing by doing nothing at all.
SWORN IN on the wings of anti-corruption rhetoric and his decades of experience, Boakai was expected to right the ship. Instead, within his first year, signs of decay began to surface. Corruption scandals appeared early, and so did Gbowee’s warning.
“It is a serious matter that people come to government with nothing,” she said. “In less than a year, they have built mansions for themselves.”
THE ECHO of Weah’s failures could not be clearer. For Gbowee — and for many Liberians — Boakai’s administration was supposed to be a corrective. Instead, it feels like a continuation. While Boakai has taken the step of suspending officials suspected of wrongdoing, Gbowee questions the sincerity and follow-through.
WITHOUT TRAILS, without asset recovery, and without reform, she warned, these efforts are meaningless. “Suspensions ring hollow.”
DEPUTY INFORMATION Minister Daniel Sando fired back, calling Gbowee’s remarks “absolutely unrealistic and completely out of order.” But Sando’s defense failed to address the underlying truth that suspensions are not convictions. Nor are they accountability.
GBOWEE DID not stop at financial corruption. She drew a chilling line between economic crimes and the violence of Liberia’s civil war.
“Impunity has taken a glorious seat in this nation,” she said. “Yes, there are people who took guns and killed us, but there are also people using their pens and bank accounts to murder thousands by denying them basic needs.”
THIS COMPARISON — between the physical violence of warlords and the bureaucratic violence of corruption — is as provocative as it is sobering. For Gbowee, corruption is not a policy failure; it is a moral crime. And in today’s Liberia, that crime goes unpunished.
DESPITE YEARS of calls for justice, the War and Economic Crimes Court remains an unrealized promise. Gbowee is demanding President Boakai stop delaying and act: “Reinforce your commitment. Make it a top priority.”
SHE ALSO called for a “gender lens” to be applied to the court’s executive order: “In the absence of knowledge, people cannot function. What does this document say? How is it relevant to women? How is it relevant to peace? How is it relevant to reconciliation?”
THESE ARE not the words of a mere critic—they are the cries of a nation’s conscience.
ULTIMATELY, Gbowee’s statement that Sirleaf now looks like “a diamond” does not suggest the former president was without flaws. She reminds us: “You go to JFK, for example, whilst maternal health was not 100 percent, there were systems and structures in place… Programs at JFK for teen mothers… Across the country, there were different things happening for women and girls.”
SIRLEAF’S LIBERIA, while imperfect, had direction. It had ambition. It attempted to build, however slowly, a post-war state. And that, more than anything else, is what sets it apart in Gbowee’s eyes.
TODAY, under Boakai and previously under Weah, even those gains appear fragile—or gone.
GBOWEE’S words have reopened old wounds, but they also signal new possibilities. Her call is clear: for civic awakening, for public scrutiny, and for leadership that puts people above profit.
THROUGH THE return of her documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell, she hopes to reignite the moral flame that once brought Liberia back from the edge. She’s asking Liberians to demand more, remember their history, and choose truth over tribalism.
THIS IS not just a moment of reflection. It is a mirror held up to power. Liberia stands at a crossroads. And unless its leaders — past, present, and future —embrace the standard of service over self, the nation’s wounds will continue to fester.
UNTIL ACCOUNTABILITY becomes real, until justice is more than rhetoric, and until public service is measured not by personal gain but by national progress — Gbowee’s voice will remain the loudest conscience in a nation still reckoning with itself.
