By By: The People Newspaper
Capital Hill, Monrovia – In a country where hospitals lack gloves and classrooms double as storerooms, Liberia’s lawmakers are busy fighting over who authorized a “fact-finding” trip to ArcelorMittal Liberia’s (AML) mining concession in Nimba County. The fight, dragged from plenary to Facebook, has now spilled into the press, giving Liberians another drama to watch while their daily struggles deepen.
Nimba County Senator Nya D. Twanyen, Jr. took to Facebook accusing a group of lawmakers of staging a “luxury trip” to AML under the guise of a Joint Legislative Committee on MDA Compliance a committee he insists doesn’t legally exist. Twanyen branded the visit as a corporate mischief designed to weaken ongoing Senate hearings into AML’s repeated failures to honor its Mineral Development Agreement.
“There are only two recognized Joint Committees in the Legislature, and this so-called MDA Committee was never authorized by plenary,” Twanyen posted. “Gone are the days of corporate mischiefs at the expense of our people.”
But the lawmakers on the ground in Nimba didn’t take the attack lightly. In a lengthy statement, they fired back, accusing Twanyen of political grandstanding and misinformation. “There is nothing clandestine about legislators going to see, first-hand, the conditions of a major concession,” their rebuttal read. They painted their mission as an oversight duty — not a secret junket.
The back-and-forth has now left many Liberians wondering who to believe: the fiery Senator warning against backdoor dealings, or his colleagues swearing that their trip is about accountability, not comfort. Either way, the timing and tone have made the controversy appear more like a turf war than genuine oversight.
Critics point out that while lawmakers exchange insults, communities in Nimba and Grand Bassa the very places AML operates are still waiting for promised clinics, paved roads, and functioning schools nearly 20 years into the concession. “This whole fight is like rats fighting over cheese while the house is burning,” one Ganta resident quipped.
The lawmakers’ counterargument rests on AML’s size and role in the economy. With over 5,000 jobs and another 5,000 projected through its Phase II expansion, they argue that hostility could drive away one of Liberia’s few consistent investors. Twanyen, however, believes that sugarcoated partnerships have only emboldened AML to ignore commitments and shortchange communities.
At the heart of the saga is Liberia’s painful paradox: a nation rich in resources yet poor in delivery. Lawmakers claim to fight for compliance, yet their actions often spark more suspicion than trust. For ordinary citizens, whether the trip was official or clandestine matters less than whether AML will finally build the roads, hospitals, and schools that were promised.
Observers say the real danger is that political theatrics could overshadow real accountability. “It’s always drama, never results,” said one Monrovia-based analyst. “If they spent half the energy they waste fighting each other on actually enforcing the Mineral Development Agreement, the people in Nimba wouldn’t be crying for basic services in 2025.”
For now, Twanyen’s fiery Facebook post and the lawmakers’ fiery response have given Liberians something else to argue about at street corners: not whether AML is delivering, but whether their leaders are on oversight duty or just another “all-expenses-paid adventure in a country where even the rice price can’t stay stable.”
