By 
Montserrado County Senator Abraham Darius Dillon’s public apology for criticizing former President George Weah’s use of private jets marks a significant moment of reflection—or perhaps political convenience—in Liberia’s ever-evolving political landscape. While Dillon’s concession that his earlier stance was misplaced might be seen as a commendable act of humility, it also lays bare a deeper issue: the pervasive double standards and shifting principles in Liberian politics.
Dillon, once a fiery opposition figure renowned for holding the Weah administration accountable, led vocal critiques of the former president’s alleged extravagance in opting for private jets during his international trips. These critiques resonated with a population frustrated by economic hardships and a government perceived as wasteful. However, Dillon’s recent admission, coupled with his endorsement of similar practices under President Joseph Boakai’s administration, raises uncomfortable questions about the sincerity of his earlier advocacy.
The senator’s suggestion that Liberia invest in a state-owned jet is pragmatic and worth considering, as it could reduce long-term costs and eliminate reliance on costly foreign charters. However, this proposal comes belatedly and only after a stark role reversal. The public is left to wonder: why was this not the focus during his criticisms of Weah’s administration? The timing of Dillon’s apology—amid growing dissatisfaction with President Boakai’s own use of private jets—risks appearing less like a principled stand and more like damage control in the face of mounting public scrutiny.
This episode also underscores a troubling pattern within the Unity Party and its allies: a tendency to vilify practices under a rival administration, only to adopt those same practices when in power. The rhetoric of accountability and fiscal responsibility rings hollow when it is not consistently applied. Dillon’s apology, while admirable in its acknowledgment of error, cannot undo the perception of hypocrisy that now taints his political credibility.
For the Liberian public, this incident should serve as a wake-up call. Political accountability must transcend party lines. Criticism and scrutiny should not be tools wielded solely against opponents but should form the bedrock of governance, no matter who is in power. Dillon’s apology is a reminder that politicians must be held to the same standards they demand of others. Without this consistency, trust in Liberia’s political class will continue to erode.
In the end, Dillon’s mea culpa might signal a rare moment of introspection in Liberian politics, but it is not enough. For a nation striving toward progress and transparency, its leaders must embody these values—not only in opposition but in governance. The true test of leadership lies not in words but in actions, and the Liberian people deserve leaders who prioritize the nation’s welfare over partisan convenience.
