"It is not only what we do, but also what we do not do, for
which we are accountable." —Molière, actor and playwright
(1622-1673) Imagine the euphoria that must have swept through
the national football arena in Monrovia, Liberia, on June 13.
Thousands of refugees had been crammed into the stadium for
days, cowering under a driving rain, seeking
sanctuary—again—from 14 years of civil war. On three sides of
the city, rebel forces had been killing civilians
indiscriminately. Inside, the two things most in evidence were
rotting corpses and armed thugs. The Pentagon announced that day
that the U.S.S. Kearsarge—carrying attack helicopters and 3,000
bristling Marines—was diverted to Liberian waters from its
journey home from Iraq. U.S. forces were on their way to a land
with which America had deep historical bonds. Liberia was
founded by freed slaves in 1822; its capital is named after U.S.
President James Monroe. The most recent effort to topple
Liberian president Charles Taylor has come with wearying tales
of brut