National celebrations are often filled with beautiful words.
Flags are raised.
Anthems are sung.
Students march.
Officials deliver speeches.
Citizens wear national colors.
For a few hours, political differences appear less important and the country seems united beneath the red, white and blue of the Lone Star.
But when the ceremony ends, the difficult work of nation-building begins again.
That is why the 179th National Flag Day oration by Finance and Development Planning Minister Augustine Kpehe Ngafuan deserves to be considered beyond the ceremony at which it was delivered.
His theme, “From Heritage to Hope: The Flag That Unites Us,” contains a powerful national challenge.
Liberia has inherited a remarkable heritage.
But heritage alone cannot feed a hungry family.
Heritage cannot employ an unemployed graduate.
Heritage cannot repair a broken road.
Heritage cannot provide electricity to a community.
Heritage cannot educate a child.
Heritage cannot defeat corruption.
Heritage cannot protect young people from drugs.
Heritage can inspire.
But hope must be built.
That is the difference between remembering Liberia and rebuilding Liberia.
Minister Ngafuan’s recollection of himself as a first-grade student marching in Bolahun, Lofa County, on Flag Day in 1978 provides perhaps the most human element of his address.
The image of a young schoolboy marching proudly behind his classmates captures something important about national identity.
For that child, the flag was not an abstract political concept.
It represented pride.
It represented possibility.
It represented belonging.
Nearly five decades later, the same child stood before the nation as Flag Day Orator.
That journey illustrates what Liberia can become when a child is given an opportunity.
But it also raises an uncomfortable question:
How many Liberian children today are being denied the opportunities that made such a journey possible?
There are children growing up in communities where educational opportunities remain limited.
There are young people leaving school without the skills demanded by the modern economy.
There are graduates struggling to find meaningful employment.
There are communities still waiting for adequate electricity, roads and healthcare.
There are young people vulnerable to drugs, criminal networks and political manipulation.
For these children, the promise of the Lone Star must be made real.
They should be able to look at the national flag and believe that their future is not predetermined by the circumstances of their birth.
That is perhaps the most important definition of national hope.
A child born in a remote village should be able to become a doctor.
A child from a poor family should be able to become an engineer.
A child from a fishing community should be able to become an entrepreneur.
A child from an ordinary public school should be able to become a national leader.
A girl’s birthplace should not determine the size of her dreams.
A boy’s family background should not determine the limits of his ambition.
That is the Liberia the flag should represent.
But opportunity requires more than speeches.
It requires investment.
It requires competent institutions.
It requires teachers.
It requires roads.
It requires electricity.
It requires healthcare.
It requires access to technology.
It requires a functioning economy.
And it requires a government capable of converting public resources into public value.
This is why the Finance Minister’s discussion of Liberia’s fiscal future is important.
The government’s pursuit of a billion-dollar national budget is significant as an indication of expanding fiscal capacity.
But Liberians should also be demanding the harder answer: What will the additional resources accomplish?
The size of the national budget should never become a trophy.
It should become a tool.
If the budget grows, citizens should expect better roads.
They should expect stronger healthcare.
They should expect better schools.
They should expect expanded electricity.
They should expect improved public services.
They should expect greater economic opportunity.
They should expect stronger institutions.
In other words, the budget should be translated into visible improvements.
That is how people begin to trust government.
That is how national unity becomes practical.
And that is how hope becomes measurable.
Minister Ngafuan’s argument that development can unite Liberia is particularly compelling.
A road connecting counties does more than shorten travel time.
It connects communities.
It connects farmers to markets.
It connects students to schools.
It connects patients to hospitals.
It connects businesses to customers.
It connects citizens to one another.
Electricity does the same thing.
A reliable power supply can allow a small business to operate longer.
It can allow a student to study at night.
It can support healthcare facilities.
It can attract investment.
It can create employment.
Infrastructure is therefore not simply about concrete, asphalt and power lines.
It is about opportunity.
And opportunity is one of the strongest foundations for national unity.
But Liberia’s unity also depends on how citizens treat one another.
One of the most troubling aspects of Liberian public life is the tendency to reduce individuals to the groups they belong to.
A politician becomes “our politician.”
A government official becomes “their person.”
A county becomes politically identified.
A tribe becomes associated with a political party.
A religious group becomes pulled into political arguments.
Such thinking is dangerous because it encourages people to judge individuals before examining their conduct.
Minister Ngafuan’s call to “individuate” should therefore be embraced.
Liberians should judge people by their actions.
A person should not be considered good simply because he belongs to our party.
Nor should a person be considered bad simply because she belongs to another.
Every political party contains good people and imperfect people.
Every government has achievements and failures.
Every institution contains people of integrity and people who fall short.
The same applies to civil society, the media, religious organizations and the business community.
Liberia will become healthier when citizens stop defending wrongdoing merely because the wrongdoer belongs to their group.
Accountability must have one standard.
Corruption must be wrong regardless of who commits it.
Abuse of power must be wrong regardless of who benefits.
False information must be challenged regardless of who spreads it.
And political violence must be rejected regardless of who attempts to justify it.
That is the patriotic covenant Liberia needs.
The country does not need everyone to think alike.
Unity does not mean uniformity.
The students who marched on Flag Day came from different schools.
They wore different uniforms.
They marched in different formations.
Yet they saluted the same flag.
Liberia should learn from that image.
We can have different political parties.
We can have different religions.
We can come from different counties.
We can have different ethnic backgrounds.
We can support different candidates.
We can disagree over government policy.
But above all those differences is Liberia.
Our political competition must never become more important than the country itself.
This is especially important as Liberia continues to strengthen its democratic institutions.
Political opponents should not be enemies.
An election should not determine who is a patriot and who is not.
A political defeat should not be treated as national destruction.
And a political victory should not become permission to ignore the interests of citizens who voted differently.
Liberia is bigger than every election.
The Republic will survive individual political careers.
The flag will continue to fly long after today’s political controversies have disappeared.
That should humble every leader.
Minister Ngafuan’s discussion of the “tragedy of the commons” also speaks directly to Liberia’s development challenges.
Citizens often demand better public services while contributing to the deterioration of public resources.
We demand clean cities while dumping garbage in public spaces.
We demand more government revenue while evading legitimate taxes.
We demand accountability while defending wrongdoing committed by people close to us.
We demand law enforcement until someone we know is arrested.
We demand fairness until fairness becomes inconvenient.
That contradiction must end.
If Liberia belongs to all of us, then protecting Liberia must also become everyone’s responsibility.
The government has responsibilities.
But citizens have responsibilities too.
The private sector has responsibilities.
The media has responsibilities.
Civil society has responsibilities.
Religious institutions have responsibilities.
Parents have responsibilities.
Teachers have responsibilities.
And young people have responsibilities.
National development cannot be outsourced to the government.
It is a collective project.
That is ultimately the deeper meaning of the Lone Star.
The flag does not belong to the Executive Mansion.
It does not belong to the Legislature.
It does not belong to the Judiciary.
It does not belong to one political party.
It belongs to Liberia.
And Liberia belongs to its people.
Therefore, every citizen must ask a personal question:
What am I doing to raise the flag?
Not literally.
Morally.
Professionally.
Civically.
Economically.
If you are a teacher, teach.
If you are a doctor, heal.
If you are a police officer, protect.
If you are a public official, serve.
If you are a businessperson, contribute.
If you are a journalist, seek truth.
If you are a student, learn.
If you are a parent, prepare your children.
If you are a citizen, obey the law and protect your community.
If you are a political leader, compete without destroying your country.
That is how a nation moves from heritage to hope.
The flag cannot raise itself.
Citizens must raise it through their conduct.
The Lone Star cannot create unity by itself.
Liberians must choose unity.
The national colors cannot eliminate division.
Citizens must reject hatred.
The national anthem cannot produce patriotism.
Patriotism must be demonstrated through action.
This is why the greatest test of National Flag Day does not occur during the ceremony.
It occurs the following morning.
When the flag is still flying but the music has stopped.
When politicians return to their offices.
When teachers return to their classrooms.
When workers return to their jobs.
When students return to their schools.
When businesses reopen.
When citizens return to their communities.
That is when the real question begins:
Will we live the values we celebrated?
Liberia’s heritage is powerful.
Its history is complicated.
Its wounds are real.
Its potential is enormous.
But the future remains unfinished.
The generation alive today has the responsibility to determine what the next generation inherits.
We can leave behind bitterness or reconciliation.
We can leave behind division or unity.
We can leave behind weak institutions or stronger ones.
We can leave behind despair or opportunity.
We can leave behind a flag that merely remembers the past or a flag that inspires the future.
The choice is ours.
The Lone Star has flown for 179 years.
The challenge now is to ensure that the Liberia beneath it becomes worthy of the hope it represents.
We should not merely wave the flag.
We should live the flag.
We should not merely salute Liberia.
We should serve Liberia.
And we should not merely hope for a better Liberia.
We should build it.
