On a Broad Street in Monrovia, a man who once gave voice to the voiceless now lies voiceless himself. His left hand is being eaten by a festering sore. His body is frail, weakened by years of undiagnosed illness. His home is the unforgiving pavement. This man is Henry K. Bestman, a veteran journalist of more than fifteen years who once reported for The Hot Pepper Newspaper. He is a father of four, a professional, and a human being. His plight is a mirror held up to our profession—and the image is devastating .
Henry Bestman is not the first journalist to fall through the cracks, and unless we act now, he will not be the last. The cause of his homelessness and sickness is not a mystery; it is a structural failure. For years, he worked without a safety net. When the assignments dried up, so did his income. When the sickness came, there was no medical insurance, no severance, no pension to catch him. The journalism that fed his spirit could not feed his body. This is the harsh reality for many in our newsrooms.
While the Press Union of Liberia (PUL) fulfills its critical watchdog role, advocating for press freedom against the barbs of political interference, it is clear that the bread-and-butter issues of its members are being neglected. PUL President Julius Kanubah has rightly identified the need to address low salaries, the lack of health insurance, and poor working conditions. He has spoken of “bread-and-butter issues,” a phrase that resonates deeply with the struggle of journalists across the country. The publishers also acknowledge this crisis; Publishers Association of Liberia (PAL) President Alphonso Toweh described the industry as “teetering between survival and doom.”
Yet, acknowledgment is not action. Fine words do not pay hospital bills. We have been told that the media sector is fighting for economic survival, that the business model is broken, and that digital disruption is shrinking revenues. These are valid points, but they cannot be used as an excuse for abandoning the very people who are the industry’s lifeblood. If a media house cannot afford to insure its staff, it cannot afford to exist. The government, too, bears responsibility. The promise to settle outstanding media debts is welcome, but sustainability requires more than clearing arrears; it requires policy that values the journalist as a professional, not a beggar.
Henry Bestman was once rescued from the streets thanks to the goodwill of colleagues and a quick intervention by veteran Gabriel I.H. Williams, who arranged for his treatment at St. Joseph’s Catholic Hospital. But goodwill is not a strategy. Charity is not a solution. Now he is back in the streets. We must ask ourselves: why is the PUL, an institution we look to for leadership, not a first responder in such crises?
There is talk of building a grand headquarters—the Stanton Peabody Media House. But what good is a grand house if the journalists who walk through its doors have no homes to return to? What good is an institution that builds palaces while its members die in the streets?
It is time for the PUL to evolve beyond a mere watchdog. It must also be a lifeboat. This means establishing a welfare fund for members, negotiating mandatory health insurance agreements with media houses, and providing real legal and financial support to journalists in distress. The union must implement a mandatory health insurance scheme with media houses, establish a dedicated welfare fund, and negotiate minimum salary benchmarks with the Publishers Association of Liberia.
The experience of Henry Bestman is not a tragedy, but a warning. It is a call to action that cannot be ignored. If we want a future for journalism, we must ensure there is a future for journalists. We must do better. For Henry, and for every journalist who will follow him into the newsroom, the time to act is now. You may contact his daughter Willimena Bestman at this number 0880359444
