By Emmanuel M. Kangar, Jr.
Monrovia — Along the narrow shoreline of West Point and the crowded edges of New Kru Town, the Atlantic Ocean is no longer a distant presence. It is at people’s doorsteps — tearing down homes, swallowing land, and forcing entire families to rebuild their lives again and again.
A new study by researcher Mohammed W. Bah, a PhD candidate at the University of California, has revealed a troubling reality: as climate change intensifies coastal erosion and flooding in Liberia’s capital, the burden of survival is falling largely on the shoulders of the communities themselves.
Living on the edge of the ocean
In both West Point and New Kru Town, two of Monrovia’s largest informal settlements, residents describe a life shaped by constant environmental threat. Seasonal storms and rising tides routinely damage homes, displace families, and disrupt livelihoods.
For many, the destruction is not new. Some residents trace the worsening erosion back decades, but say it has become more aggressive and unpredictable in recent years.
“You can spend years building a house,” one resident said, “and the sea takes it in seconds.”
The situation is especially dire in West Point, where dense population, poor drainage, and a lack of coastal protection leave tens of thousands exposed to direct ocean waves.
Survival through self-help
With limited and inconsistent government intervention, residents have turned to their own solutions.
Across both communities, people build makeshift barriers using sandbags, wood, rocks, and even garbage. Youth are sometimes paid to haul sand to reinforce homes, while neighbors organize cleanups and create informal warning systems to alert others when tides rise.
These efforts reflect resilience and ingenuity — but they are far from enough.
Most of the defenses last only a few weeks or months before being washed away. Residents describe them as temporary measures in a fight they cannot win alone.
“We don’t have options,” one interviewee said. “We just try to protect what we can.”
Unequal protection fuels frustration
The study highlights a clear imbalance in how support is distributed. In New Kru Town, government-installed rock barriers have helped slow erosion in some areas, protecting key institutions and nearby homes.
But in West Point, similar protections are largely absent.
This disparity has created deep frustration. Many residents say they feel abandoned, especially as they watch neighboring communities receive support that never reaches them.
Even in New Kru Town, however, the progress is limited. Some barriers are deteriorating or being overtaken by rising waters, and large stretches of coastline remain unprotected.
Broken promises and fading trust
Government-led initiatives, including a past relocation program, have struggled to deliver lasting solutions. Poor planning, lack of services, and economic hardship forced many relocated families to return to the same high-risk areas they had left.
Residents say these experiences have eroded trust in public institutions. Complaints of unfulfilled promises, lack of follow-up, and minimal community consultation are common.
According to the study, many adaptation efforts are designed without meaningful input from the people most affected — sometimes leading to projects that worsen flooding rather than reduce it.
Stronger unity where support is weakest
Ironically, the research found that West Point — the community receiving the least government support — shows stronger levels of collective action.
Residents there are more likely to organize, contribute resources, and work together to defend their neighborhood. In contrast, New Kru Town, where some state intervention exists, shows more fragmented community efforts.
The findings suggest that in the absence of government support, necessity is forcing stronger local cooperation.
A call for urgent, lasting solutions
Researcher Mohammed W. Bah warns that while community resilience is remarkable, it cannot replace long-term, structural solutions.
Fast-forward, he’s calling for increased government investment in coastal protection, better coordination among agencies, and — crucially — the inclusion of local communities in decision-making.
Without these changes, the gap between rising climate risks and available protection will only widen.
For residents on Monrovia’s coast, the stakes are clear. Leaving is not a realistic option for most, tied as they are to fishing, trade, and community networks.
So they remain — rebuilding, reinforcing, and waiting.
“The sea is getting closer every year,” one resident said. “And we are still here, trying to survive.”
