Assignment 4

Violence in Liberia Extends to Journalists ‘The government warned that any journalist or news organization that violated the ban would be considered and treated as “rebels.”’

A R T I C L E B Y

IS AAC B ANT U

Africa Courage

The National Patriotic Force of Liberia (NPFL) — the rebel forces in

the country’s brutal civil war — left their mark on news organization

buildings they destroyed. Photo by Gregory Stemn.

Journalists report out of a sense of responsibility to inform and to

educate the public. But it takes courage for journalists to take on

reporting assignments that they can anticipate will have dangerous

consequences, including the possibility of imprisonment, torture and

even death. Conditions of press freedom differ in countries with

repressive regimes, but all journalists who report under these

circumstances share a sense of what it means to try to do this work

while being always mindful of what might happen.

Even though journalists in the West African nation of Liberia now

enjoy a high level of freedom in this fledgling democracy, reporting

under past dictatorial regimes required courage given the violent

manner in which government officials reacted to reports that they

considered unfavorable. The recent history of the Liberian press is

replete with stories of abuse against journalists who were harassed,

intimidated, jailed and murdered, while news organizations were

banned or vandalized. These actions were sanctioned by government

officials, directly or indirectly.

The worst example of this treatment occurred in November 1985,

when my Liberian colleague Charles Gbenyon, a young enterprising

television journalist, was arrested and butchered to death upon orders

of then military ruler Samuel Kanyon Doe, reportedly for his

antigovernment reporting. Gbenyon was arrested in the wake of a

failed military coup to depose Doe, which turned very violent and

bloody as Doe’s regime unleashed a brutal wave of reprisal against real

and perceived enemies. It was an act of courage that Gbenyon chose to

go out into the field and report unfolding developments amid the mass

chaos that was dangerously life threatening.

Several journalists were arrested in the wake of that failed coup, and I

was among them. I was arrested primarily for reports I’d filed to the

British Broadcasting Corporation’s African Service in London about

the chaotic state of affairs in Liberia when Doe stole the presidential

elections of October 15, 1985. Like other members of the press in

Liberia, I was mindful that if what I reported did not please the

regime, then I faced danger. Nevertheless, my reporting reflected the

reality on the ground, not necessarily what the regime wanted the

Liberian public and the world to be told. For these reports, I was

arrested at my home — brutalized and stripped to my underpants —

and then my house was set ablaze and reduced to ashes. I was

incarcerated for nearly four months. It was not the last time I would be

arrested and treated abusively.

Challenging Authority During these difficult times, even at the peril of their lives, journalists

had to decide whether to impose self-censorship or rely on the courage

required to publish and report "sensitive" stories and suffer the

consequences. In May 1991, Gabriel Williams, the managing editor of

the independent daily The Inquirer, along with the paper’s news editor

and a reporter, were detained by commanders of the West African

peacekeeping force commonly called Ecomog. These journalists were

accused of smearing the image of the peacekeeping force and

undermining security because of a report in The Inquirer linking a top

brass of Ecomog to gunrunning and smuggling of raw materials.

Deployed in Liberia to bring an end to that country’s senseless and

bloody civil war, the peacekeeping force, dominated by regional power

Nigeria, provided As security conditions deteriorated, government officials announced a ban on all press coverage relating to the war. The regime said that reporting of the war was creating more fear, tension and chaos among the public. Full security in and around the Liberian capital of Monrovia against rebel forces then led by Charles Taylor. Nigerian

forces were stationed at the air and seaports, where some of them were

found to be involved in illegal activities with the customs service,

including facilitating the importation of drugs into Liberia. Nigerian

warships under Ecomog patrolled Liberia’s territorial waters to

prevent the smuggling of arms and raw materials into and from the

country, but there were allegations that some smuggling was taking

place.

The Inquirer was tipped off about a ship that was involved in the

smuggling of arms and raw materials with the collusion of some top

brass of the peacekeeping force. After The Inquirer concluded an

investigation establishing that some of the peacekeepers were involved

in illegal activities, Williams convened some editorial meetings to

discuss whether to publish the report. Part of the discussion revolved

around consideration of the potential risk involved in publishing the

story.

Some editorial staff members urged that the report not be published,

citing security reasons and potentially dangerous repercussions.

Others favored publishing the report as a way of drawing public

attention to such illegal activities, irrespective of consequences.

Williams sided with those supporting publication of the report, though

he was aware that doing so could endanger him and the news

organization.

Hours after the paper appeared on the newsstands, Ecomog soldiers

arrived in the paper’s offices to pick up Williams. Two staff members

decided to accompany him to the headquarters of the peacekeeping

force. After many hours of interrogation and days of harassment, in

which the top brass of Ecomog unsuccessfully tried to force him to

retract the report, peacekeeper officials finally acknowledged their

problems. Faced with a serious international embarrassment, they

were forced to institute some operational reforms in their Liberian

operations.

Government Bans Reporting During 1989, in the early months of the senseless and bloody civil war,

as rebel forces marched from the interior to Monrovia to depose

Samuel Doe’s regime, independent journalists and news organizations

were among those targeted by the regime as enemies, real or

perceived. As security conditions deteriorated, government officials

announced a ban on all press coverage relating to the war. The regime

said that reporting of the war was creating more fear, tension and

chaos among the public. The government warned that any journalist

or news organization that violated the ban would be considered and

treated as "rebels." Such threats had resulted in the past with

journalists being jailed, tortured and killed, and newsrooms were

vandalized.

Immediately after the government ban was announced, journalists of

the independent media convened a meeting under the auspices of the

Press Union of Liberia (PUL). This national journalist organization, of

which I once served as president, was formed to build stronger

solidarity in the face of danger. At this meeting, the union announced

that its members would not abide by the government’s directive; they

continued to report on the war at great risk to themselves and their

news organizations and did so out of conviction and courage to keep

the public informed.

A few weeks before this meeting took place, the offices of the

independent Daily Observer, one of the leading daily newspapers in

West Africa, had been set ablaze in retribution for an article the paper

published relating to the war. The regime deemed it to be unfavorable

coverage. The fire destroyed the Observer’s photo processing room

and library, which had one of the best collections of resource materials

in the country.

As rebels attacked the city and Monrovia descended into chaos,

independent news outlets were vandalized or burned to the ground.

Most independent journalists also went into hiding during this period;

many were forced into exile simply to stay alive.

The history of the Liberian press has long been characterized by the

struggle to keep the public adequately informed in the face of

repression by regimes determined to keep the people subservient to

their will as they operate with impunity. Principally through acts of

courage independent journalists and news organizations refused to

allow this to happen during all of those years of repression.

Isaac Bantu, a 1992 Nieman Fellow, is president and director of

Mano River Media Forum/MARIFO, a Boston-based news network

that monitors issues concerning press freedom, human rights abuse,

political, social and economic issues in the Mano River Basin

countries that include Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone, which are

bordered by the Mano River.