RANDOM THOUGHTS: The 1970s Seen by Amos C. Sawyer

A Review of No Land, No Vote by Dr. Amos C. Sawyer

By: Abdulaye Dukule, PhD. Liberian Educator, Political Consultant, etc.

2023

Wahala Publishing House, Houston Texas

ISBN 979-8-9874433-1-4 Also in paperback

The 1970s in Liberia were a decade marked by promises, fear, and chaos—a time of both peril and hope. It was a period of political and social reckoning, as modern ideas of nationhood, democracy, and human rights clashed with an aging political order determined to maintain its dominance.

In the early part of the decade, a new generation of foreign-educated Liberians returned home. Rather than assimilate quietly into the privileges of the ruling elite, they chose to challenge the very system that offered them comfort. Among them was Dr. Amos C. Sawyer, a political science professor at the University of Liberia, who boldly sought to contest the entrenched one-party rule by running for the mayorship of Monrovia.

In No Land, No Vote, Dr. Sawyer provides both a detailed account of that campaign and a wide-ranging reflection on Liberian politics in the 1970s. His narrative offers a candid, first-person perspective on a nation struggling to redefine itself, and a political establishment resisting change at every turn.

Central to the book is President William R. Tolbert, whom Sawyer portrays as a tragic figure: a man molded by the very system he sought to reform. Tolbert’s presidency, as depicted in the book, is marked by indecision, internal contradictions, and a failure to translate good intentions into meaningful action. As Sawyer puts it, “The more some people attempted change, the more others were digging deeper in the preservation of the old order.” (p. 201)

Though Tolbert occasionally initiated reform efforts, they were routinely undermined by internal party resistance and his own hesitations. His tendency to set up commissions and investigations, only to ignore their recommendations, is a recurring theme. One such example is the Rice Commission’s findings, which recommended the establishment of a code of conduct for public officials and urged the President to curtail his family’s extensive business activities. “The commission [rice rights] recommended a code of conduct should [be] established by the Government to guide the business dealing of public officials [and] that the President should see that the extensive business activities of his family be scaled down.” (p. 63)

Sawyer devotes several pages to a public showdown between renowned civil advocate Albert Porte and Finance Minister Steve Tolbert, the President’s brother, over a gambling bill. This episode is emblematic of the rising civil society resistance against entrenched corruption and unchecked political power.

The narrative also explores the rise of a parallel opposition movement led by Gabriel Baccus Matthews. While Sawyer, Dew Mayson, and Togbanah Tipoteh organized under MOJA (Movement for Justice in Africa), focusing on students, port workers, and laborers in concession zones, Baccus built a movement among the unemployed urban youth and the disaffected poor. Both wings of the opposition sought change, though their approaches differed significantly. Baccus pursued a direct transfer of power, while MOJA emphasized constitutionalism and electoral inclusion.

Underlying this political contest was the monopoly of the True Whig Party (TWP), a sclerotic and divided institution that clung to its century-old dominance. Sawyer describes a party torn between hardened conservatives and a younger, reform-minded faction. Tolbert found himself trapped in the middle, unable—or unwilling—to break from the dogma of “So say one, so say all.”

Sawyer’s run for mayor was a pivotal moment. His opponent, ChuChu Horton, represented the establishment, yet support for Sawyer came even from within the ruling class—including Horton’s own brother.

 The campaign became a referendum not just on candidates, but on the legitimacy of the political order. At its core was a law that required land ownership in order to vote—a deliberate tool of voter suppression, especially against the educated poor and political challengers. As Sawyer documents, “[Research] showed that if the property qualification was strictly applied, less than 12,000 people would be eligible… Tolbert in 1975 with 868,067 votes…” (p. 151)

Sawyer’s memoir also captures the state’s response to dissent: arrests, intimidation, bribery, and attempted co-optation. Both Mayson and Tipoteh were fired multiple times. Sawyer himself was offered positions designed to draw him into the establishment. “I could join the party […] and become one of its permanent secretaries or become Ambassador to Mozambique.” (p. 188)

Yet beneath these episodes is a deeper sense of collective anxiety and despair. Sawyer recounts, “All the individuals I had spoken with were deeply concerned about the direction of things in the society […] worried there was no character to government – no sense of larger purpose. There was a concentration of corruption, and blatant nepotism.” (p. 150)

The most haunting part of No Land, No Vote is its meditation on what might have been. Sawyer writes, “The people of Liberia would have seen once and for all that change is possible in this system through the ballot box.” (p. 71) But that opportunity was lost. Even former officials of the Tolbert regime confessed their cynicism: “I got the impression from them [former officials of Tolbert] that there was very little hope of peaceful change that the instruments of peaceful change were in the hands of the president who was selfish and incapable.” (p. 150)

Tolbert ended up postponing the elections in the aftermath of political unrest created by Baccus’ group. They had staged a night demonstration calling for the resignation of the president and marched towards the presidential palace. While calling Baccus’ midnight demonstration was irresponsible for putting civilians at risk, he refused to condemn them because their action was legal, according to the constitution.

While this wrangling was ongoing, a group of noncommissioned soldiers broke into the Palace, killed President Tolbert and declared a revolution, After spending some time in the secure location, Sawyer returned home just to be taken to the Mansion to meet the junta leader, Samuel Kanyon Doe. Doe asked him to serve as his second in-house adviser. When he turned it down, he told him to take over the mayor office. Sawyer said no that he wasn’t really running to be mayor. Doe then asked him if the job could be offered to Chu Chu Horton. Amos said he didn’t think he would take the job. [Chu Chu Horton also related this exchange when he spoke at Amos Sawyer’s funeral.]

In the end, No Land, No Vote is not merely a political memoir. It is a testament to a generation’s aspirations and a country’s lost opportunity. Sawyer’s voice is calm but resolute, reflective but firm. His story is as much about one man’s political journey as it is about the structural dilemmas of Liberia—and the enduring question he asks on page 73: “What should be the strategy for engineering structural changes in the Liberian society?”

It is a question that still hangs in the air.