Working to Restore Confidence

And preparing an economic shock treatment

It has been nearly five months since 17 Liberian soldiers burst into Monrovia's executive mansion and assassinated President William R. Tolbert Jr. That bloody coup abruptly ended more than a century of rule by descendants of the freed American slaves who founded the country in 1847. The seizure of power was shortly followed by gory public executions of 13 former officials and associates of the slain President. The new head of state, Master Sergeant Samuel K. Doe, 28, has since faced a host of problems as head of the 28-member People's Redemption Council (P.R.C.). But there are signs that the new regime may be getting organized, as TIME Nairobi Bureau Chief Jack White discovered on a return visit to the Liberian capital:

"There was a lot of sympathy outside Liberia for change," says a civilian member of the new government. "But we destroyed most of it with the executions." Indeed, the brutal seaside killings made Liberia a pariah to its African neighbors. Doe was barred from attending a summit of the Economic Community of West African States in Togo last May. He subsequently refused to attend the July meeting of the Organization of African Unity in Sierra Leone after rejecting the precondition set by some of the O.A.U.'s most influential members: the immediate release of the late President's son, A.B. Tolbert, who had been snatched from asylum in Monrovia's French embassy by a gang of unruly soldiers. The embassy invasion touched off an angry row with Paris, one of Liberia's major European aid donors.

Since then, the badly shaken new rulers of Liberia have worked hard to restore the confidence of foreign governments and investors. Doe made a two-day visit to Tanzania and a four-day tour of Ethiopia as part of a fence-mending campaign among his African neighbors. He has pledged that there will be no more executions of political figures associated with the old regime. The widow of the President, Victoria Tolbert, was released from house arrest, and 38 political prisoners who had been rounded up during the early days of the revolution were freed. Conditions have improved for the 140 prisoners who remain in the stockade at Monrovia's Barclay Training Center. But Tolbert's son is still behind bars.

There has been less progress on the economic front. The P.R.C. inherited a country on the verge of bankruptcy. Says a U.S. banker in Monrovia: "If this were a company, Liberia would be in liquidation." Only $5 million was left in the national bank--not enough to cover Liberia's immediate debt payments. The country faced abnormally high costs for imports that had been negotiated by the Tolbert government. The council broke some of these contracts, but has failed to renegotiate a long-term oil-shipment deal that costs the nation 30% more than the current going rate. The country's foreign-dominated retail trade, meanwhile, has been crippled by a flight of capital and a severe credit shortage.

Harsh economic realities have forced the government to back off from some of its grandiose early promises. Though the pay of army privates has been tripled, to $250 a month, only the lowest-paid government employees have received raises. The price of rice remains high at $22 for a 110-lb. bag, exactly what it was under Tolbert. To rebuild the confidence of foreign investors, Liberia's new rulers have accepted stringent economic measures laid down by the International Monetary Fund in exchange for $85 million in credit. In particular, public spending will be drastically cut to reduce a $20 million-a-month deficit.

These sensible steps, however, are being undermined by the quixotic behavior of some of the council's more impulsive members. The soldier who executed Tolbert, Harrison T. Pennue, marched into Monrovia's John F. Kennedy Memorial Medical Center shortly after the coup and pistol-whipped a doctor in the middle of an operation. Pennue was subsequently imprisoned for a week and demoted to "co-member" of the council. In July, P.R.C. Co-Chairman Thomas Weh Syen went on a rampage in eastern Liberia, demolishing a century-old monument to the country's founders and ordering the discharge of hundreds of government employees. Doe--who has kept his master sergeant stripes--dispatched his commanding general to collar Weh Syen. Doe, a member of the Krahn tribe, then toured the eastern provinces and personally assured the people that he would severely punish any other wayward council members. Doe's blunt warning to his colleagues: "If you get caught--hey, you might not live to tell the story."

Modestly spurning the trappings of power, Doe has stopped using Tolbert's presidential Mercedes-Benz limousine except for rare ceremonial, occasions. Instead, he drives around town hi a Chevrolet Chevette, sometimes heading out alone for late-night excursions. Doe is said to be wearying of the demands of political office. "If it were up to him, the soldiers would be back in the barracks by Christmas," says a friend.

That is unlikely to happen. Erratic as it has been at times, the new government enjoys wide support among those who feel that only decisive military rule can get Liberia out of its rut. Says James Tarpah, vice president of the University of Liberia: "The issue is not whether they go back to the barracks, but whether they can provide the leadership for much-needed change. That is a shock treatment that may be easier to accomplish by decree than by voting." It seems for now a sentiment that most Liberians endorse. -

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