In a nation where political promises often collide with the rigid realities of governance, the Female Journalists Association of Liberia (FeJAL) has emerged as a critical voice of accountability. On September 13, 2026, the organization’s president, Madam Lisa Tenneh Diasay, delivered a robust and challenging message to President Joseph Nyuma Boakai during the Presidential Media Dinner in Monrovia. The core of her argument was unambiguous: the government’s heralded ARREST Agenda for Inclusive Development must move past the stage of political rhetoric and into the realm of tangible, measurable demographic representation. At the center of this critique is a call for the restoration of women to the Cabinet table and a systemic opening of doors for female journalists who have been relegated to the periphery of national discourse.
To understand the gravity of Diasay’s challenge, one must examine the historical context of Liberia, a nation that in 2005 made global history by electing Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Africa’s first female head of state. For decades, Liberia has wrestled with the dual legacies of civil war and patriarchal structural barriers that have consistently limited women’s participation in the highest echelons of government. While the Sirleaf administration set a precedent for female leadership, the years following her tenure have been characterized by erratic shifts in representation. When President Boakai assumed office, there was a palpable expectation—fueled by campaign promises—that his administration would serve as a catalyst for gender parity.
For a brief window, that hope seemed grounded in reality, as the Cabinet reached a historic zenith with nine out of 19 positions held by women. This was an unprecedented achievement, signaling a move toward a more representative democracy that mirrors the reality of Liberia’s population, which is roughly balanced by gender. However, the subsequent departure of two key figures, National Defense Minister Geraldine J. George and Commerce and Industry Minister Magdalene E.
Dagoseh, caused that number to plummet to seven. Diasay’s critique of this decline is not merely a complaint about personnel turnover; it is a profound observation on the fragility of gender inclusion in Liberian politics. She pointedly reminded the President that inclusion is not a sentiment; it is a quantitative reality. When representation drops, it reflects a structural weakness that suggests women’s roles are treated as dispensable rather than fundamental to the state’s operations.
The implication of her argument is that if the government truly values the ARREST agenda—which focuses on Agriculture, Roads, Rule of Law, Education, Sanitation, and Tourism—it cannot ignore the voices and administrative talents of the women who helped craft or implement these pillars. The removal of two senior female ministers without immediate, high-level replacement by other women sends a signal to the Liberian public that the administration’s commitment to diversity may be more cosmetic than institutionalized. By calling for the reassignment of these former ministers and demanding that future recruitment shortlists explicitly include women, FeJAL is proposing a roadmap for long-term policy success rather than simple identity politics. The second, and perhaps equally critical, pillar of Diasay’s address focused on the professional marginalization of women in the media.
In Liberia, the media has historically been the watchdog of democracy, often operating under immense economic and political pressure. Yet, even within this essential sector, gender disparities are glaring. Diasay noted that while female journalists are a vibrant and essential part of the media landscape, they are systematically absent from the power centers—the press briefings, the international delegations, and the one-on-one interview opportunities that define the national narrative. This lack of access creates a vicious cycle: if women are not present to ask the critical questions, the scope of national coverage remains confined to a male-dominated perspective, potentially ignoring issues that disproportionately affect women, such as maternal health, market regulation, and educational access in rural communities.
The argument here is twofold. First, there is the issue of parity in professional opportunity; women journalists deserve the same access to the President and his top officials as their male counterparts. Second, there is the issue of democratic quality. A diverse press corps brings diverse questions.
When a woman is not in the room to ask about the lack of sanitation in a local market or the distance a student must travel to reach a school in a rural district, those issues may never receive the scrutiny they require. This is why FeJAL’s call for broader access is a call for a more informed and nuanced national development strategy. Furthermore, the challenges faced by the Liberian media are exacerbated by systemic economic hurdles. FeJAL’s demand for the removal of duties on broadcast and internet equipment is an appeal for structural reform aimed at sustaining a free press.
In a country where infrastructure remains underdeveloped, the cost of technology is a barrier to truth-telling. By subsidizing or easing the tax burden on media infrastructure, the government could empower journalists to reach beyond the capital of Monrovia and report from the neglected hinterlands. This, in turn, would strengthen the democratic accountability of local government officials—a key aspect of the ARREST agenda that often receives little attention. The proposal for an Independent Public Interest Journalism Fund, meanwhile, acknowledges a harsh reality: the traditional funding models for journalism—advertising and donor support—are failing.
As donor interests shift and the local economy struggles to support private media entities, the risk of media capture by wealthy political interests grows. By advocating for an independent fund, Diasay is looking for a mechanism that protects the integrity of the press from both the government and private conglomerates. Such a fund, as she emphasized, must be insulated from executive reach. If the government truly desires a robust civil society, it must be willing to invest in the mechanisms that make critique possible, even when that critique is directed at the government itself.
Ultimately, Madam Diasay’s speech serves as a benchmark for the Boakai administration. It is a reminder that in the eyes of observers, journalists, and the citizens of Liberia, success will not be measured by the eloquence of political rhetoric or the ambitious nature of the ARREST agenda’s white papers. It will be measured by the presence of women in the cabinet room, the diversity of the voices echoing in presidential press briefings, and the sustainability of a media landscape that is allowed to operate without the constraints of poverty and political intimidation. Liberia stands at a crossroads where it must decide if its democratic trajectory will be inclusive or exclusionary.
By daring to put the count on the table, FeJAL has laid down a clear gauntlet. The government has the constitutional authority to appoint and the political power to facilitate, but it does not have the mandate to ignore the democratic imperative of equal representation. As Liberia looks toward the future, the integration of women into the heart of government and the strengthening of a free, representative, and sustainable media will determine whether the ARREST agenda delivers for all citizens or simply remains another chapter in the country’s long history of unrealized potential. The call to action is clear: the cabinet table needs more chairs for women, the briefing rooms need more female voices, and the press needs a sustainable foundation to keep the light of scrutiny shining brightly on the path to development.
