By Obadiah D. Vanjahkollie
Liberia is in the grip of a worsening drug crisis, one that threatens not only individual lives but the future stability of the nation itself. The recent anti-drug march, where citizens from across communities in and around the capital gathered at the Capitol Building under the banner “Say No to Drugs,” was a powerful display of solidarity. That moment deserves sincere recognition.
But after the march, what happens next?
This question still hangs unanswered. Too often, especially when it comes to illicit drugs, the state responds to public outcry with applause, but not with action. Officials commend citizens for speaking out. They urge communities to report drug dealers, support law enforcement, and take ownership of their streets. But the reality on the ground is far more complex. While community involvement is vital, this crisis cannot be resolved by communities alone. It demands leadership, resources, and functioning systems that only the state can deliver.
Communities are carrying the weight of the crisis. Families are breaking apart. Neighborhoods are becoming increasingly unsafe. A growing number of young people are falling into addiction or being lured into the drug trade. In many areas, drugs are sold openly. Often, residents know who the dealers are, but speaking out is not as simple as it is seen.
In a society where anonymity is rare and retaliation is a real possibility; silence becomes a form of protection. People don’t stay quiet out of apathy; they stay quiet out of fear. Fear that nothing will change. Fear that their identities will be exposed. Fear that they or their families could be harmed. They have seen what happens when institutions fail to act.
And mistrust in these institutions runs deep. Liberia’s Drug Enforcement Agency (LDEA) and the Liberia National Police (LNP) have long struggled with corruption, misconduct, and weak accountability. In March 2023, a leaked audio implicated Bong County’s LDEA commander, Joseph Gokor, and several deputies in a conversation about protecting drug traffickers in exchange for bribes.
Two years later, in March 2025, the agency faced renewed allegations of corruption and internal conflict.
That same month, the LDEA’s Maryland County commander, Sgt. Birr and his team were accused of illegally seizing 24.3 grams of gold and L$35,000 from a businessman during a raid in Barrobo District, MaryLand County. The Independent National Commission on Human Rights (INCHR) called for justice and a full investigation.
The police fare no better in the court of public opinion. According to a 2023 Afrobarometer survey, 78 percent (%) of Liberians who sought help from the police said they had to pay a bribe, offer a gift, or perform a favour to receive assistance. Only 26 percent (%) said they trusted the police “somewhat” or “a lot.” This isn’t just a reputational problem. It’s a systemic one. When people lose trust in law enforcement, they withdraw. Without public cooperation, no policy or program can succeed.
Most of the silence we see in communities isn’t indifference. It’s a survival mechanism. While local residents shoulder the most visible impacts of this crisis, the deeper responsibility lies with the state.
We also need to be honest about the nature of this emergency. This isn’t just a crime issue. It’s a public health crisis, deeply rooted in poverty, trauma, unemployment, and years of institutional neglect. Treating drug use solely as a criminal matter ignores the social wounds that drive it. Until we confront those root causes, we will remain trapped in a cycle of reaction rather than resolution.
What Liberia needs is not another awareness campaign; it needs a comprehensive national strategy. It must begin by making it safe for people to speak up. This means establishing anonymous reporting systems and strong legal protections for whistleblowers. At the same time, access to professional treatment must expand. Right now, it’s limited, expensive, and largely unavailable to those who need it most. Addiction is not merely a moral failing. It is a health issue. It requires trained professionals, well-resourced treatment centers, and nationwide accessibility, not just in Monrovia.
Prevention must go hand in hand with rehabilitation. If young people face no prospects, no jobs, no skills training, or no meaningful engagement, then the drug economy will continue to attract them. Liberia must invest in vocational programs, youth entrepreneurship, the arts, and sports. This is about more than deterring crime. It’s about building lives that are worth choosing.
Law enforcement reform is also essential. The LDEA and LNP must undergo meaningful, transparent change, not cosmetic adjustments. Community policing should mean partnership, not pressure and intimidation. Unless people feel protected, not intimidated by law enforcement, they will not cooperate.
The government must also support the leaders who already hold trust within communities: faith leaders, traditional authorities, youth advocates, teachers, and local elders. These figures are often the first point of contact for vulnerable individuals, yet they operate with little or no support or recognition. The state must equip and empower them as full partners in the national response.
Everyone has a part to play in addressing this crisis. But not all responsibilities are equal. The weight of this emergency cannot fall on those with the fewest resources and the least power. The state must lead. The government must invest. And institutions must do what they are meant to do.
This crisis won’t be solved through slogans, shame, or finger-pointing. It will be solved through planning, trust, accountability, and shared commitment. Blame divides. Strategy builds. Let’s stop expecting the most vulnerable to carry the weight of national failure. Let’s create systems that work, restore trust, and build the future that Liberia truly deserves.
