It is about preparing young people for life, building discipline, rewarding hard work, and creating an environment where every student understands that effort has consequences.

But today, an important question needs to be asked: What happens when students who perform poorly academically are able to secure places in some of the country’s most sought-after Senior High Schools (SHSs), including coveted boarding spaces, while students who worked extremely hard struggle to get the same opportunity?

This is not about humiliating students who obtained lower grades. Every child deserves an opportunity to learn, improve, and build a future.

A student’s examination result should never become a permanent judgment on their worth or potential. However, education must still have standards.

When admission into highly competitive schools becomes disconnected from academic performance, we risk sending a dangerous message to students: “You don’t necessarily have to work that hard; somehow, you may still get the opportunity you want.”

And that message can have consequences.

What Are We Teaching Our Children?

Imagine a student who wakes up every morning before sunrise, attends classes, completes assignments, studies late into the night, sacrifices entertainment, and pushes through difficult subjects because they believe their hard work will earn them an opportunity.

Now imagine that same student watching someone who put considerably less effort into their studies receive an opportunity they desperately wanted.

What happens to motivation? What happens to the belief that hard work matters?
For some students, it may create frustration.

For others, it may gradually destroy the determination to study harder.
A society that wants excellence must make sure that effort, achievement, and opportunity have a meaningful relationship.

Boarding Is More Than a Bed

The desire to attend a top SHS is not only about wearing a particular school uniform or having a prestigious name attached to one’s education.

For many families, boarding provides access to structured study periods, libraries, teachers, academic competition, peer learning, and an environment designed around education.
That makes boarding places especially valuable.

When these limited opportunities are allocated without sufficient consideration for academic performance and merit, we should ask whether we are using those opportunities in the way that best supports educational excellence.

This does not mean that grades should be the only consideration.

Students come from different backgrounds. Some face poverty, inadequate learning resources, difficult family circumstances, disabilities, health challenges, or schools with fewer educational resources.

A fair system should recognize such realities and provide support where necessary.
But supporting disadvantaged students is different from removing academic standards altogether.

We Must Not Punish Students for Working Hard
Ghana must be careful not to create an education system where excellence becomes meaningless.

If a student spends years working hard because they believe good academic performance will open doors, the system should not repeatedly teach them that their effort makes little difference. We should encourage students to dream big.

We should tell them:
Study hard.
Ask questions.
Read.
Practice.
Improve.
Your effort matters.

And when students succeed, society should recognize that achievement—not necessarily with privilege, but with meaningful opportunities to continue developing their potential.

But Let Us Also Help Those Who Struggle

There is another side to this conversation. A student with poor grades should not be written off. A low examination score can be a reflection of many things, and it does not necessarily determine a child’s intelligence or future.

Instead of simply placing every struggling student into a highly competitive environment and assuming the problem has been solved, we should invest in remedial education, academic counselling, vocational pathways, teacher support, tutoring, and stronger basic education.

Let struggling students know: “You can still succeed—but you have to grow.”
That is a much healthier message than either abandoning them or pretending that academic standards do not matter.

Ghana Needs Both Opportunity and Standards
The debate should not be:
“Should students with lower grades have opportunities?”
Of course they should.
The better question is: “How do we create opportunities without destroying the culture of hard work and academic excellence?”
That is the conversation Ghana needs.

Our education system should be compassionate enough to give students a second chance, but disciplined enough to maintain standards.

It should reward excellence without mocking those who struggle.
It should create alternative pathways without making achievement irrelevant.
And most importantly, it should make every child believe that hard work is worth it.
Dear Ghana, Our Children Are Watching
Students are watching how we distribute opportunities.
They are watching who succeeds.
They are watching whether grades matter.
They are watching whether discipline is rewarded.

And eventually, they will respond to the incentives we create. If we want a generation that studies harder, dreams bigger, competes fairly, and takes education seriously, then our policies must communicate a clear message: Your background should not determine your destiny—but your effort, growth, and achievement should matter.

Ghana does not need an education system that simply moves children from one level to another. We need an education system that builds capable, disciplined, confident, and knowledgeable citizens.

So, Hey Ghana!
Let us give every child a chance.
But let us also give standards a chance.
Because when we make hard work meaningless, we do not only disappoint today’s hardworking students.
We risk weakening the ambition of tomorrow’s Ghana.

I am a Ghanaian writer passionate about environmental sanitation and the work of private waste management companies, especially the prestigious Zoomlion Ghana Limited.

I am concerned when people, including Manasseh Azure Awuni, appear to undermine a company that has created jobs, helped address sanitation challenges and contributed to Ghana becoming the West African regional hub for sanitation, waste management, and circular economy policy support.

For more than a decade, Manasseh has unjustifiably criticised Zoomlion and its owner, Dr. Joseph Siaw Agyepong, through articles and commentaries that, in my view, have focused almost exclusively on alleged wrongdoing while rarely acknowledging the company’s achievements or its owner’s ingenuity.

That raises a fundamental question: Can journalism be considered fair and balanced when its scrutiny of one company remains overwhelmingly negative over many years?

Constructive criticism, we all know, should identify problems, offer suggestions and acknowledge achievements where appropriate.

Has Manasseh ever examined Zoomlion’s job creation, investments in waste-management infrastructure, technological initiatives, recycling operations, expansion beyond Ghana or contribution to environmental sanitation? If so, what did he find?

The audit discrepancy

These questions bring me to Manasseh’s current investigation, “Auditing the Auditor-General: How Special Audit Understated a COVID-19 Expenditure.”

The central issue is serious: Why did the Auditor-General’s special audit reportedly record GH¢96.3 million as fumigation expenditure when documents claim from the Ministries of Education, Local Government and Transport allegedly show expenditure of at least GH¢780 million?

That discrepancy requires careful examination.

How did the Auditor-General arrive at GH¢96.3 million? Who supplied and reviewed the figures? Which ministries submitted expenditure records? What methodology determined what qualified as COVID-19 expenditure?

Why were some expenditures allegedly audited but not reflected in the reported fumigation figure? Who within the Audit Service made those decisions?

These questions go directly to the investigation’s central premise. If the allegation is that the Auditor-General understated COVID-19 expenditure, the audit process itself must receive detailed scrutiny.

Institutional responsibility

My concern begins when a question about the Auditor-General’s alleged under-reporting gradually becomes a story about Zoomlion primarily.

The Auditor-General did not award Zoomlion the contracts. Zoomlion did not write the special audit report or determine which expenditures should be included or excluded.

Therefore, if the central allegation concerns an understatement by the Auditor-General, who should answer for it: Zoomlion or the Ghana Audit Service?

If the concern is procurement, equal attention should be given to the ministries and public officials who initiated the procurements, selected the contractor, obtained approvals, supervised the work, certified performance, approved invoices and authorised payment.

Zoomlion does not award itself government contracts. Ministries and public institutions must answer for the decisions they made; the procurement authorities for approvals and ratifications; public officials for supervision, certification and payment; and contractors for the work they were paid to perform.

Accountability should cover every institution and individual involved.

Zoomlion’s relevance

Manasseh reports that approximately GH¢775 million of the GH¢780 million in fumigation expenditure he identified went to Zoomlion. That makes the company materially relevant to the investigation.

However, relevance does not eliminate the need for proportionality and fairness.

The question is whether Zoomlion receives extensive attention because the evidence requires it, or whether the Auditor-General controversy has become another opportunity to revisit longstanding criticisms of the company.

The article also discusses previous Zoomlion contracts, World Bank sanctions, GYEEDA, earlier fumigation arrangements, a 2025 ministerial report and other controversies.

This raises a legitimate question: Is it principally an investigation of the Auditor-General’s COVID-19 audit, or another broad prosecution of Zoomlion through journalism?

If Zoomlion received approximately GH¢775 million, it is reasonable to investigate whether it performed the contracted services, whether public authorities certified the work, whether the prices complied with procurement requirements and whether the state obtained value for money.

But those questions should be addressed through evidence and accompanied by equal scrutiny of the institutions that awarded and paid for the contracts, not the contractor.

Journalistic fairness and consistency

The issue is broader than Dr. Otabil or Zoomlion. It concerns whether journalists apply consistent standards when reporting on people and institutions with whom they have different relationships.

When the Capital Bank saga broke out, some people, including me, called on Manasseh to comment on his pastor and godfather, Dr. Mensah Otabil’s involvement as then chairman of the board of directors. He responded that he would not do so because of their relationship.

That raises questions about consistency. Should the standard of scrutiny change depending on a journalist’s relationship with the person or institution involved?

If personal relationships justify recusal in one case, should personal history, previous disputes or long-running negative campaigns against another organisation also be disclosed so readers can assess possible bias?

Rather than allege, without evidence, that Manasseh has paymasters who benefit from attacks on Zoomlion, I would ask him directly:

What explains the persistence and intensity of your focus on Zoomlion over more than a decade? Are there interests, relationships, funding arrangements or institutional considerations that readers should know about?

After years of predominantly negative reporting about the same company and entrepreneur, readers are entitled to examine not only the subject of the journalism but also its consistency, proportionality and fairness.

Conclusion: Auditor-General or Putting Zoomlion on Trial Again

Zoomlion should not be immune from scrutiny because it is Ghanaian, employs people or operates in an important sector.

Companies handling public money must answer questions about procurement, performance and value for money.

But accountability cannot be selective. The Auditor-General must answer for the audit report.

Ministries must answer for contracts they awarded. Procurement authorities must answer for approvals.

Public officials must answer for certification and payment. Contractors must answer for the work they performed.

Journalists, too, should be open to legitimate questions about consistency, conflicts of interest, proportionality and fairness.

If we genuinely want accountability, the same torch must shine in every direction.

Are we auditing the Auditor-General, investigating COVID-19 expenditure, or simply putting Zoomlion on trial again?

By Mashoud Bawa

Our elders say when you climb a good tree, you deserve a push. In Ghana we have spent years talking about the tree, the buildings, textbooks, and salaries. We have spoken less about the push, the way decisions are made and how teachers are treated while they do the work.

Our study, now published in Social Justice Research, followed 399 teachers in public senior secondary schools in the Greater Accra Region.

We asked a question that matters for our context: in schools where resources are tight and most rewards are decided far from the school gate, what keeps a teacher committed?

Three Ways Teachers Judge Fairness

We looked at fairness from three angles. First, fairness in what is received. Do pay, allowance, workload and promotion match effort? Second, fairness in how decisions are made.

Are transfers, postings, appraisals and discipline handled transparently, consistently, with room for teachers to be heard?

Third, fairness in daily treatment. Do heads and supervisors speak with respect, explain honestly, and affirm professional dignity?

Why Process Outweighs Pay In Our Schools

Fairness in how decisions are made showed the strongest link to teacher performance. When teachers believed the rules were clear and applied without favoritism, they invested more in preparation, classroom management and timely delivery.

Fairness in what is received mattered, but modestly. In our centralized system where salary is set nationally, an extra allowance may ease pressure but does not by itself create attachment to teaching. Fairness in daily treatment alone did not directly lift performance.

A respectful headteacher inside an unpredictable system can only do so much. As our elders warn, when you leave a matter unattended outside, it eventually goes bad. Occasional kindness cannot replace a credible system.

The Quiet Power of Loving The Work

At the center of our work is professional love, the emotional bond, care and commitment teachers develop toward the profession and their students.

It is not sentiment. It is what makes a teacher mark at midnight, stay after school to coach a struggling child, and remain in the classroom when other jobs beckon. That love was built far more by how people were treated than by what they received.

Respectful daily interaction had the strongest link to professional love, followed by fair procedures. When teachers felt respected and understood the rules governing their careers, attachment deepened.

That attachment was strongly linked to better performance. Professional love also acted as the bridge. It carried the influence of fair procedures and respectful treatment to performance. It did not carry the influence of fair rewards. In a context where rewards are seen as decided by a distant authority, getting more does not make teachers love the work more. Being treated fairly does. There is a saying that one hand cannot lift a heavy load. Teacher performance is that heavy load. It is not lifted by pay alone. It is lifted when teachers feel seen, heard and respected.

What Government and Education Service Must Rethink

For those who make policy at the Ministry of Education and the Ghana Education Service, the lesson is plain. First, publish and standardize procedures. Criteria for transfers, postings, promotions, and appraisals should be written, accessible, consistently applied, and open to appeal.

When teachers know the rules and see them applied equally, trust grows. Trust in process allows teachers to focus on teaching instead of navigating informal networks. Second, turn supervision into support. How supervisors speak, explain and correct matters more than we admit.

A framework that requires timely feedback, private correction and adequate explanation costs little and returns much. As the proverb goes, the child who breaks the snail is not the one who suffered to pick it. Those who do not carry the burden of teaching should be careful how they judge it.

Third, think beyond money when you think about welfare. Material incentives remain important but incomplete without fairness in process and treatment.

A teacher who receives an allowance but is transferred without explanation or corrected with public humiliation is unlikely to turn that allowance into better learning for children.

What Heads Can Do Before The Next Assembly

Heads of schools and department heads may not control payroll, but they control climate. You control whether appraisals happen on time and with evidence. You control whether teaching loads are shared with clear reasons. You control whether correction affirms dignity. These everyday choices are not administrative footnotes.

In our study they were the strongest predictors of emotional commitment. Schools that build mentorship, peer collaboration and regular feedback that makes impact visible create conditions where commitment can be sustained.

As elders say, the ruin of a nation begins in the homes of its people. In the same way, the strength of a school begins in the staff common room.

Where respect is absent, even well paid teachers experience fairness as random and commitment becomes fragile.

A Word For Teachers Themselves

For teachers, this research affirms something many know in their bones. Commitment is not bought. It is nurtured. Professional love stabilizes effort when resources are scarce and policies shift. Yet that love is not endless.

When systems treat teachers as interchangeable units rather than professionals, the link between love and performance weakens. Systems that measure teachers without understanding their work slowly erode the motivation they want to increase.

That is why unions, subject associations and Colleges of Education must advocate not only for better pay but for better processes and more humane treatment.

They must demand transparent procedures and model the respectful cultures new teachers will carry into schools.

Where We Go From Here

The future of this country is written in its classrooms, and the quality of those classrooms cannot be separated from how we treat those who stand in them. Our study does not claim resources do not matter.

They do. It shows that in Ghanaian senior secondary schools, where schools have limited control over rewards, fairness in procedures and fairness in daily interaction show stronger links to professional love and sustained effort than fairness in outcomes alone.

If we want teachers to teach with love, we must lead with fairness. When the system is fair, teachers give it their heart. When teachers give their heart, students receive their best.

The writer is a lecturer at University of Professional Studies, Marketing Department

What if the friend who said, “I’m good,” had rehearsed those words because they were too tired to explain what was really happening inside? What if the colleague who made everyone laugh, went home and cried alone?

What if the person who always checks on everyone else is quietly wondering who would check on them? We rarely know.

And perhaps that is what makes suicide so difficult to talk about.

We look for sadness, we look for withdrawal, we look for some unmistakable sign that tells us someone is struggling.

But human beings are complicated. Sometimes pain is loud, sometimes it is remarkably quiet, and sometimes it wears a smile.

There are people who will show up for work while their minds are somewhere else entirely. People who will sit through conversations, answer questions, laugh at jokes, and scroll through their phones while carrying thoughts they are terrified to say out loud.

They are functioning, but they are not okay, and because they are functioning, we assume they are fine.

That assumption can be dangerous.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. It is a month dedicated to reminding us that suicide is not merely a subject for headlines after someone is gone.

It is a conversation we need to have while people are still here.

There are people among us who are fighting battles nobody knows about. They wake up, go to work, and laugh with their friends. They answer messages, attend church, post pictures, make plans, and then they go home and fight battles they have told no one about.

They can have a good job and still feel empty, surrounded by people and still feel completely alone. They can believe in God and still struggle, smile at you and still be trying desperately to survive the day.

So maybe we need to become better at asking questions that go beyond, “How are you?”

Because “I’m fine” has become an easy answer.

Ask again.

And when someone finally says, “I’m not okay,” resist the urge to immediately fix them.

Listen…….

Not with judgement.

Not with, “How could you do that?”

Not with, “But you have everything.”

Not with, “Others are suffering more than you.”

Pain does not always make sense from the outside.

Sometimes people don’t need a lecture. They need somewhere safe to put the pain they have been carrying. Some people have become incredibly good at looking okay, that is one of the most painful things about suicide.

Sometimes, there is no obvious warning. No dramatic goodbye. No public announcement that someone is falling apart. Sometimes, there is simply a person who has become exhausted from pretending that everything is fine.

It happens to human beings.

People who once had dreams.

People who were loved.

People who had responsibilities.

People who made someone laugh.

People who may have spent their final days wondering whether anyone would understand how much pain they were carrying.

The World Health Organization estimates that more than 720,000 people die by suicide every year globally. But behind every number is a story that cannot be reduced to a number.

And perhaps that is where our conversation needs to begin.

Suicide prevention is not only about knowing the warning signs. It is also about creating a world where people do not feel ashamed to say, “I need help.”

It is about making mental health conversations ordinary enough that seeking help does not feel like an admission of failure.

It is about families paying attention, friends checking in, schools taking emotional well-being seriously, workplaces understanding that people are more than their productivity, and faith communities creating room for honesty alongside hope.

And it is about each of us remembering that we may never fully know what the person beside us is carrying.

The colleague who seems unusually quiet.

The friend who has stopped showing up.

The person who keeps saying they are tired.

The young person whose behaviour has suddenly changed.

The person who jokes about not wanting to be here anymore.

Maybe don’t laugh it off.

Maybe don’t dismiss it.

Maybe ask.

“Are you really okay?”

And then stay long enough to hear the answer.

We often tell people to be strong, but perhaps sometimes what they need is permission to admit that they are tired. Tired of pretending, tired of hurting, tired of carrying everything alone.

There is strength in asking for help, there is strength in staying, there is strength in telling someone, “I don’t know how to get through this.”

And there is strength in being the person who hears that and says:

“You don’t have to carry this alone.”

September will end, the campaign hashtags will disappear, posters will come down.

But people will still be struggling.

So let the conversation continue……

Check on your people, listen without judgment, take their pain seriously.

And when someone is struggling, help them find the support they need.

Because sometimes, saving a life does not begin with having the perfect words.

Sometimes, it begins with simply refusing to walk away.

Start the conversation.

The press release dated 14th September, 2026 and signed by Ag. Director of Public Affairs, PNCO Francis Opoku Amoah, reaffirms NACOC’s resolve that Ghana will not be a safe haven for drug barons. That resolve must be commended.

But this same arrest exposes a dangerous truth everyone in the country is aware of: NACOC is succeeding in spite of the system, not because of it.

How can an agency mandated to stop international cartels operate without tools?

A Commission Stranded on Logistics:

Until the current leadership arrived, the transportation situation of the Commission was so bad it was crippling operations. For 8 years, the Commission received only 4 vehicles.

The current administration had to use personal links to secure 27 vehicles to keep operations moving.

A law enforcement agency fighting well-funded cartels cannot be run on charity and personal contacts. It needs a fully budgeted fleet of operational, surveillance, and armored vehicles.

 On Port Operations: Where Are the Tools and the Access?

This latest cocaine shipment left Ghana in a container of alleged plastic waste. It was detected in France, not Ghana. That should worry every Ghanaian.

The Begging Questions:

• At the Tema Port and Takoradi Port, what modern equipment is available for drug detection? Do we have ion scanners, trace detectors, and canine support at scale?

• Is NACOC granted unfettered access to the scanning room?
•  Who controls what is seen and what is not seen?
• Where containers are actually stuffed and loaded – the Inland Container Depots and private warehouses – do we have permanent NACOC officials stationed there?

• Who has been blocking NACOC from such sensitive places for years?

– Has NACOC been granted full access to the Integrated Customs Management System (ICUMS) to profile and flag high-risk shipments in real-time?

If NACOC does not have full, real-time access to ICUMS and the scanning rooms, then we are leaving our gates wide open and only arresting after the drugs have been intercepted in Europe.

 A Call To President Mahama:

The President and the Minister for Interior must take this Bolle Jos case as a wake-up call. You cannot task NACOC to prevent Ghana from becoming a transit hub while starving it of tools.

We call on Government to immediately:

1. Retool NACOC with state-of-the-art drug detection equipment at all entry points – airports, seaports and land borders.

2. Grant NACOC mandatory, unimpeded physical presence in all scanning rooms and container loading bays.

3. Give NACOC full integration and access rights to ICUMS and all port single-window systems.

4. Provide a dedicated budget for fleet, forensic labs, and intelligence technology, so the Commission does not have to rely on links to function.

The officers of NACOC have shown professionalism by arresting these three suspects in custody. Imagine what they could do if they were properly tooled.

READ ALSO:

NACOC arrests three suspects linked to ‘Bolle Jos’ network

Police arrest two, seize 692 parcels of suspected Indian hemp at Dawhenya

NDC supporters blame the NPP, NPP supporters blame the NDC.

Parents blame the government, and government officials blame the system.

Somewhere in the middle of the noise is a 14- or 15-year-old child whose immediate concern is much simpler: “Where am I going to school?”

This year’s scenes at the CSSPS Resolution Centre at GNAT Hall in Accra should force us to pause.

Parents and students have endured long queues, repeated visits, and, in some cases, overnight stays while seeking solutions to placement problems.

Reports from the centre have included concerns about school choices, unsuccessful placement, and changes between boarding and day status. Some parents have called for additional resolution centres and more personnel.

These frustrations are real. But so is another uncomfortable truth: Not every disappointing placement is evidence of political manipulation.

Not every failure of the system is the fault of parents. The real conversation must be bigger than NDC versus NPP.

THE NUMBERS SHOULD MAKE US THINK
School placement is, fundamentally, a problem of matching demand with limited capacity.

The most popular schools cannot accommodate every child who wants to attend them.
That fact is sometimes lost in the political shouting.

A parent may genuinely believe that a child who performed well deserves a particular school. But thousands of other parents may believe exactly the same thing about their children.

When demand is greater than available places, disappointment is inevitable.
The question, therefore, is not simply whether a child got his or her first choice.

The more important questions are how were the choices made? Did the parent understand the choices? Was the information clear? Those are the questions Ghana should be asking.

QUESTION ONE: DID YOU REALLY UNDERSTAND THE EIGHT CHOICES?
This may be the most uncomfortable question for parents.

The current CSSPS guidance requires candidates to arrange eight choices in order of preference.

The official system allows up to two Category A choices, up to three Category B choices, and permits all eight choices to be Category C schools.

There are also limits on boarding selections within the categories. Parents and candidates are expected to check the school, programme, residence type and category for each choice before confirmation.

That is important. Because choosing eight schools does not mean choosing eight schools with identical chances of admission.

And it certainly does not mean that a child is guaranteed a place in any particular school simply because it appears on the list.

This is where parents must take some responsibility. Did you sit with your child and carefully examine the choices?

Did you look at the child’s performance and the competitiveness of the schools? Did you consider the programme being offered?

Did you consider whether the child could realistically travel to the school if placed as a day student? Did you include schools where the child had a genuine chance of securing a place?

Or did the list simply become a collection of the most famous names in Ghanaian secondary education?

PRESEC, Achimota, Wesley Girls, Mfantsipim, St Augustine’s and Opoku Ware.

One prestigious school after another. There is nothing wrong with ambition, but ambition without strategy can become disappointment.

A SCHOOL’S NAME IS NOT A CHILD’S DESTINY
We need to have a difficult conversation about Ghana’s obsession with Category A schools.

Some parents behave as though their child’s entire future depends on attending one of a handful of famous institutions. It does not.

A good school matters. Facilities matter. Teachers matter. Peer environment matters. Programmes matter.

But ultimately, the child matters most. A brilliant student can thrive in a Category B or Category C school.

A child can attend one of the country’s most prestigious schools and still struggle. Indeed, one of the most important questions a parent can ask is not, “Is this the most prestigious school?” but “Is this the school in which my child can learn, develop and thrive?”
That is a very different question.

QUESTION TWO: WHERE WERE WE AS PARENTS?
This is perhaps the hardest question of all. School selection is too important to be outsourced completely to a 14-year-old.

Yet some parents become deeply involved only after the placement result arrives.
Before that, the child may have been left to discuss choices with classmates, friends, or even teachers without meaningful parental oversight.

Then, months later, when the placement is announced, the parent arrives at GNAT Hall asking why the child did not get the desired school.

Parents must be involved before the choices are submitted, not only after the placement goes wrong.

The official CSSPS system itself provides a choice-confirmation stage where candidates can review their recorded choices and edit them before final confirmation.

It specifically advises users to check the school, programme, residence type and category before confirming. That opportunity should be treated seriously. Parents should sit down with their children. Check the codes, check the schools, check the programmes, check boarding or day status, check the order of preference, and then confirm.

BUT LET US NOT BLAME PARENTS FOR EVERYTHING
This is where the government and CSSPS must also accept responsibility. It is not enough to tell parents to “understand the system.”

A national education system must be designed so that ordinary parents can actually understand it.

The fact that parents are repeatedly arriving at resolution centres with similar questions should itself be treated as evidence that communication can be improved.
And the scenes at GNAT Hall are difficult to ignore.

Reports this week describe overcrowding, long queues, and parents waiting for hours, or returning repeatedly, to have their cases addressed. Some parents reportedly spent the night at the facility.

At one point, reports indicated that tensions became so high that a glass door at the GNAT Hall was damaged as parents attempted to enter the auditorium.

This is not how a modern education system should make parents feel. Parents should not have to sleep in a car park to get an answer about their child’s education.

THE RESOLUTION CENTRE CANNOT BECOME THE SYSTEM
The Resolution Centre is supposed to resolve exceptional problems. It cannot become the place where the entire placement system is effectively explained for the first time.

If thousands of parents have to physically converge on one location because they cannot obtain satisfactory answers elsewhere, then we should ask whether the architecture of the complaints system itself needs reform.

To its credit, the Ministry of Education has now announced plans to digitise the placement complaints process from 2027, allowing parents and candidates to submit and resolve complaints through the CSSPS portal.

That is a welcome direction, but digitisation alone will not solve everything.

A parent who cannot understand a complicated process on paper may not understand the same complicated process on a screen.

The reform must therefore combine technology with human support, clear communication and accountability.

AND THEN THERE IS THE POLITICS
This is where Ghana gets itself into trouble. The moment something goes wrong, we ask:
“Which party is responsible?”

But education should not be reduced to NDC versus NPP. The CSSPS has existed across different governments. Placement challenges have existed across different administrations.

Parents have complained about school choices, capacity, boarding and day arrangements, communication and resolution centres under different political parties.

If we change governments but continue to have the same structural problems, then perhaps the problem is bigger than partisan politics.

Political parties will come and go. Our children will not get another BECE because a politician made a mistake.

Their secondary-school years will happen once. That is why placement reform should be treated as a national education issue rather than a party weapon.

POLITICS CAN ALSO HIDE THE REAL PROBLEM

When every placement problem becomes a political argument, we stop discussing capacity.
We stop discussing why some schools are dramatically more attractive than others.
We stop discussing infrastructure.

We stop discussing teacher distribution. We stop discussing the quality of Category B and C schools. We stop asking why parents believe that only a small number of schools can provide their children with a successful future.

And, perhaps most importantly, we stop discussing how to make every good school a school parents are proud to choose.

That should be the national ambition.

Not simply to increase the number of children entering Category A schools, but to raise the quality and attractiveness of schools across the entire system.

WE ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT TRANSPARENCY
Parents have legitimate questions. Why was my child placed there? Why was the residential status changed? Why was my child’s choice not available?

Why did another candidate with apparently similar results receive a different placement?
These questions deserve clear answers.

The Ministry has explained that some requests cannot be accommodated where schools, particularly certain Category A and B institutions, have already reached capacity.

That is precisely why transparency matters. If a school is full, say so.

If a placement cannot be changed, explain why.

If the candidate must use self-placement, explain the available options. If a case requires national-level intervention, tell the parent exactly where to go.

The official CSSPS platform already provides a self-placement process for candidates who are not automatically placed, allowing them to select from schools with available vacancies.

The challenge is making sure parents understand these pathways before frustration turns into confrontation.

THE CHILD MUST NOT BECOME THE VICTIM
There is another dimension we often overlook. The child is listening. At home, the child hears: “The government has destroyed your future.”

At the resolution centre: “They have given you the wrong school.”

On social media: “The system is corrupt.” And in political arguments: “This is because of NDC.” Or: “This is because of NPP.”

What does that child hear? That their future has already been ruined.
We need to be careful. A placement disappointment should not become a psychological burden placed on a young person who has just completed basic education.

The message should instead be: “This is not the school we expected. Let’s understand what happened, examine our options and find the best path forward.”

That is what responsible parenting sounds like.

THE WAY FORWARD
The CSSPS is not perfect. Parents are not perfect. Schools are not perfect, and governments are not perfect.

But we can build a better system.

First, make the school-selection process radically clearer.

Parents should receive simple, practical explanations of what the eight choices mean, including the implications of category, programme, residence and capacity.

Second, make parental involvement part of the process. A parent should not first see the submitted choices after the results are released.

Third, publish clearer information on competitiveness, capacity and placement rules, while protecting the integrity of the system.

Fourth, strengthen schools outside the most competitive category. If parents are constantly fighting over a handful of schools, the long-term answer is not to magically create thousands of additional Category A places.

It is to make more schools genuinely excellent.

Fifth, reform the Resolution Centres. Regional centres should be properly staffed and equipped. Cases should be triaged. Simple issues should be resolved locally. Complex cases should be escalated.

Parents should be able to track their complaints without physically returning to a queue.
Sixth, complete the transition to a credible digital complaints system, but make sure it is accessible to parents who need human assistance.

The Ministry’s planned digital complaints platform from 2027 is a step in that direction.
And finally: Stop turning every national education problem into NDC versus NPP.

THE QUESTION WE SHOULD REALLY BE ASKING
A parent once put the issue to me in a way that stayed with me:
“I fought for Category A for my first child. He got it, but he struggled.

My second child went to a Category B school I had properly researched. Today, he is a prefect and thriving.” That should make us think.

Perhaps the greatest mistake we make is confusing prestige with potential. Our children do not need a political party blame-game to succeed.

They need parents who are involved, they need schools that are properly resourced, they need teachers who are supported, they need a placement system that is fair and transparent, and when something goes wrong, they need a Resolution Centre that treats them with self-possession.

So yes, let us demand accountability from government. Let us demand transparency from CSSPS.

Let us demand better facilities across our schools. Let us demand properly staffed and humane Resolution Centres. But let us also look in the mirror.
Did we understand the eight choices? Did we participate in the selection process?
Did we give our children realistic options? Did we consider the school, or only the name of the school?

And when the result disappointed us, did we seek a solution, or immediately seek a political enemy? Ghana’s children deserve better than that.

Their education is too important to become another battlefield for NDC and NPP.
Let us fix the system without destroying confidence in it.

Let us hold government accountable without surrendering parental responsibility. And above all, let us remember that the ultimate goal of school placement is not to produce the largest number of children in Category A schools.

It is to give every Ghanaian child a genuine opportunity to thrive.

This is a very important video because it highlights the importance of French in West Africa. To begin, Ghana sits at the heart of a predominantly French-speaking sub-region.

We are a full member of the Organisation internationale de la Francophonie, a clear signal that French is central to our national agenda. Yet, a troubling disconnection persists.

Despite years of formal instruction, many Ghanaian students and even university graduates find it difficult to communicate beyond “Bonjour, ça va?” or “Comment tu t’appelles? ”.

For a long time, the explanation has been attributed on one hand to rote learning. We blamed an over-emphasis on memorization at the expense of communication.

On the other hand, which is more anecdotal, many students, by perception or verification, associated caning with the “professeurs de français”, eventually extinguishing their love for the language.

Well, maybe we could spare those teachers a bit because Ghana, for lack of adequate teachers since time immemorial, helped itself out with those from nearby Francophone countries who came in with little English and many a time zero indigenous language background for purposes of alternance codique.

Could we completely chastise these facilitators when the genesis of the didactics of French as a foreign language stressed correcting the child with some strokes in the palm?

But that argument no longer fully holds. The truth is more complex and more uncomfortable.

It’s Not the Syllabus

The French language syllabus in Ghana has already undergone significant reforms. It now emphasizes practical usage, communicative competence, and real-life interaction.

In principle, our students are expected not just to learn French, but to use it, to speak, to respond, and to negotiate meaning.

The senior high school graduate should be in the position to lead a francophone friend to a “waakye” joint, mediate with the vendor for choices of egg, macaroni, salade, and fish.

The graduate of health information management will have no excuse not to understand and collect basic information from a confused francophone patient.

How about the one who specialized in the language? The ease of interaction and quick reflexes will suit them.

So, the question must be asked: If the curriculum has evolved, why are the outcomes lagging like a naïve child chasing the setting sun?

Have we modernized the syllabus on paper but left the actual classroom in a time capsule? Are we lacking the audio-visual tools and digital “scaffolds” that make language acquisition meaningful?

Or is there a deeper challenge, a “complex educational dilemma” that teachers must walk between following strict exam rules and fostering the emotional confidence a student needs to speak a new language?

The “Passive Learner” and the Classroom Walls

Language does not thrive in isolation. We are currently witnessing what experts call the “Participation without proficiency dilemma.”

This occurs when a student possesses neatly arranged textbooks and an updated syllabus but lacks the “urgency” or the environment to actually live the language.

When French is confined strictly to a 40-minute period with hundreds of students sitting rigidly in rows and columns, the obvious answers hit us right in the face. How many out of these two scores can be assigned to individuals to reflect? 

How do we form groups for a collective knowledge construction to make them social organisms? Can we really tame interaction in a language classroom? It becomes a theoretical marathon rather than a functional tool.

If students cannot speak after years of study, we must stop blaming the “plan” and start questioning how that plan is executed.

We need to move from seeing French instruction as a mere checklist of grammar rules and start seeing it as a magic key to opening doors.

A student may spend hours conjugating verbs, but without “psychological safety” the freedom to make mistakes and experiment without fear that is those structures remain locked in their head.

Who is explaining to the “apprenant” that it is very normal that her mother tongue has a greater influence on how she will sound in the foreign language she’s mastering?

We need to commend efforts and allay students’ fear of making errors and emphasize real-life interaction.

After all, the learning of French no longer seeks phonetic perfection like methods that once forcefully refined learners into choristers adjusting their lips for musical harmony. We have modernized our goals, but have we modernized our support systems?

A Call to Action: Joining the Conversation

Addressing this linguistic gap is not just an academic concern; it is a strategic one. Language is access. It is mobility. It is participation. Without it, Ghana risks unintentional isolation within a region that is making headway without its star.

To bridge the gap, we need a collective shift:

To parents, you are the first influencers. Normalize exposure. Let the children hear French in the home through music, cartoons, and simple phrases. Make the language “sound” like the tele novellas, the Kumkum bhagyas, and the morning devotions before it “looks” like a school subject.

To our teachers, embrace the communicative intent already embedded in your syllabus. Create classrooms that are safe spaces for “imperfect” French, leveraging the art of teaching within you. Focus on engagement and the “why” of learning as much as the content.

And to our policymakers, documentation is not implementation. Match curriculum reforms with real-world resources, continuous professional development that does not replicate language classrooms elsewhere but rather those right here, and monitoring mechanisms that prioritize oral fluency over written test scores.

To us as a society, we must normalize French in our media, our markets, and our youth culture. The engagement we have with our smartphones, akin to the peace Ghana enjoys, has equally important content in French available on our favorite social media platforms.

Entertainment, fashion, sports, culinary arts, etc. For nomophobia without purpose is equivalent to annihilation. Let’s stop treating it as a foreign “requirement” and start embracing it as part of our West African identity.

The message from that TikTok video is clear: French is not waiting to be discovered; it is already here, already dominant, and already shaping the opportunities across our borders.

French is already speaking all around us, it is in our trade, at our borders, and in our regional boardrooms.

One might not believe that the Kente and fugu weavers, as well as the “chawchaw” fabricator can achieve substantial gains if they record themselves and achieve viral reach and articulate “ce boubou est bon marché, ceci est d’une qualité rare, ça vous donne une allure de prince.”

The real question is no longer whether we can hear it, but whether Ghana is finally ready to respond.

“French is no longer knocking at Ghana’s door; it is already speaking in the four walls of our rooms.

The real question is whether we are ready to participate in this evolving dialogue.”

About the author:

Maame Ama Boadiwaa

Lecturer, Department of Communication Studies

University of Professional Studies, Accra

But the markets are quiet, the hearths have grown cold, and a story of sorrow is all that is told.

The pathways once beaten by communal feet are surrendered to grass in a bitter retreat;
Keri is crying, her beauty defiled.

For the ghost of a home and the fear of a child. How deep are the roots of the Challa and Akyode? They traveled together down every long road.

In the warmth of the kitchen, in the sweat of the field, the bonds of their marriage were sacredly sealed.

A child of the union carries both in their veins, a bridge built of blood that now staggers in chains.

When brother meets brother with fire in his eyes, it is his own kin that he wounds till he dies.

We ask of the shadows, how did we arrive? Where the hunger for vengeance is all that survives.

The dialogue vanished, the whispers took flight, turning neighbors to phantoms in the dead of the night.

But there is no victor when the village is burned, only lessons of grief that are painfully learned.

Every grave that is dug in the soil of our hate is a theft from the future, a seal on our fate.

The win is a wound that the whole body feels, a fracture of spirit that no weapon heals.

It is felt by the mother whose comfort is gone, by the father who dreads the arrival of dawn.

It is seen in the ruins where livelihoods stood, drowned in the name of a misunderstood good.

For what is the prize of a desolate land?
If you’ve nothing but ashes left in your hand?

The history of Keri is longer than strife, built on the promise of shared, simple life.

The ties that once bound us are stronger than steel, if we find the great courage to soften and heal.

Let the elders assemble, let the leaders take heed, to plant for the children a different seed.

For the young ones are watching the choices we make, will we give them a home or a heart-rending ache?

Revenge is a circle that offers no light, it only extends the despair of the night.

True justice is steady, it walks through the door of reason and truth, seeking peace evermore.

Let the rumors be silenced, let anger be stilled, before every hope for our people is killed.

Keri deserves better than funerals and fear; she deserves to be cherished, she deserves to be dear.

The crying must stop at the edge of the field, where the wounds of the past are acknowledged and healed.

Choose to be neighbors, choose to be one, finish the work that our fathers begun.

For when we choose Keri, we choose to survive, to keep the great heart of our culture alive.

Let the grass be for grazing, let the homes be for grace, as we welcome the peace of a shared, holy place.

For some, the screen brought celebration.
For others, it brought confusion, disappointment and a frantic search for answers.

The Computerised School Selection and Placement System (CSSPS) had once again opened its doors.
And, as has become an annual ritual, Ghana was soon divided between parents celebrating coveted placements and others asking the same difficult question: How did my child end up here?

The 2026 exercise has placed 527,932 candidates into Senior High Schools, Senior High Technical Schools and Technical and Vocational Education and Training institutions.

That represents about 87.3 per cent of the 604,567 candidates who qualified for placement after the 2026 Basic Education Certificate Examination (BECE).

But behind those numbers is another figure that has become central to this year’s debate: 76,635 qualified candidates were not automatically placed.
The reason is revealing.

According to the Ministry of Education, 313,283 candidates selected Category A schools as their first choice, competing for just 76,417 declared vacancies.

The Ministry says the challenge is therefore not necessarily a shortage of spaces in the secondary education system, but a mismatch between where vacancies exist and where students want to go.
And that mismatch is where the annual CSSPS drama begins.

When a dream school becomes a disappointment
For many BECE candidates, school selection starts months before placement.

Parents discuss schools with friends. Teachers offer advice. Children dream about uniforms, houses, campuses and traditions.

The names of highly subscribed schools dominate conversations.
But when the placement results arrive, dreams can quickly collide with reality.

A candidate may have performed strongly but still miss out on a preferred school because thousands of other students are competing for limited vacancies.

This is one of the fundamental realities of CSSPS: good grades alone do not guarantee admission to a particular school.

Placement takes into account academic performance, programme choices, school preferences and available vacancies.

(CSSPS)
The result is that two students with seemingly similar grades can receive different outcomes depending on the schools and programmes they selected.

For disappointed parents, however, the explanation is often difficult to accept.
The question is simple:
“If my child performed well, why didn’t he or she get the school we selected?”

The self-placement scramble
For candidates who are not automatically placed, the next option is self-placement.
The official CSSPS portal allows an unplaced candidate to select a school and programme with available vacancies.

The process requires the candidate to log in, select a region, choose an available school, select an available programme and residence type, and submit the application.

On paper, it is a practical solution.
In reality, it can become another source of anxiety.
Vacancies are limited, preferred schools may no longer be available, and families have to make decisions quickly.

For parents without reliable internet access or adequate digital skills, the process can also be intimidating.

This is particularly important in a country where access to technology and reliable connectivity is not uniform.

The system may be digital, but the people using it do not all begin from the same starting point.
The human cost of placement

For some families, the placement challenge is not simply about getting a school.
It is about distance, accommodation and money.

A student placed far from home may mean additional transport costs. A boarding placement comes with expenses for school items, transportation and other requirements.

Even after securing a placement, parents must still navigate the admission process.
This year, however, the Ministry says the CSSPS has been upgraded to allow parents and guardians to complete parts of the admission and enrolment process online and download relevant documents without necessarily travelling to individual schools.

The Ministry says the move is intended to reduce the financial and logistical burden on families.
That is a welcome development.

But for many families, the bigger question remains: What happens when the placement itself is disputed?

GNAT HALL: where frustration meets the system
In Accra, the answer has been playing out at the National Placement Resolution Centre at GNAT Hall.

The centre has witnessed large numbers of parents and candidates seeking assistance with placement problems.

Reports from the facility describe long queues, hours of waiting and growing frustration among people seeking answers to their individual cases.

Parents have called for additional resolution centres and more personnel to reduce congestion.

The situation exposes one of the biggest weaknesses in the current model.

A system designed to digitise school placement still depends heavily on physical intervention when things go wrong.

And when thousands of people need human assistance at the same time, even a well-intentioned resolution mechanism can quickly become overwhelmed.

The Ministry has acknowledged the challenge.
It says it plans to digitise the placement complaints process from 2027, allowing parents and candidates to submit and resolve concerns through the CSSPS portal rather than relying so heavily on physical resolution centres.

That could represent one of the most significant changes to the placement process since its introduction.

So, has CSSPS achieved its purpose?
The answer is complicated.

There is no doubt that CSSPS has transformed school placement.

It has replaced a system that could be vulnerable to human discretion with a computerised process designed to match candidates to schools based on defined criteria.

It has also expanded the ability to process hundreds of thousands of candidates.
But efficiency is not the same as perfection.

After more than two decades, the recurring complaints suggest that the conversation must move beyond whether CSSPS can place students.

The bigger question should be:
Can CSSPS place students in a way that is transparent, understandable, accessible and trusted by the public?

A system can successfully place more than half a million students and still leave thousands of families frustrated.

That is the paradox Ghana must confront.
The real problem may be the choices we make
The 2026 figures offer an important lesson.
More than 313,000 candidates selected Category A schools as their first choice, while the declared vacancies in those schools stood at just 76,417.

Meanwhile, Category B and C schools had significantly larger numbers of declared vacancies.

This raises a difficult but necessary question:
Are Ghanaian families placing too much emphasis on a relatively small group of schools?

For years, school reputation has been heavily associated with a limited number of institutions.

The consequence is predictable: thousands of candidates chase the same schools while other institutions struggle to attract students.

Perhaps the solution is not simply to increase vacancies in the most popular schools.
Perhaps Ghana must also invest in making more schools equally desirable.

That means better infrastructure, laboratories, libraries, accommodation, teaching resources, sports facilities and, most importantly, confidence in the quality of education being delivered.
Beyond the annual drama
Every September, Ghana has the same conversation.
Parents queue.
Students worry.
Social media fills with screenshots.
Some families celebrate.
Others cry.

And eventually, the country moves on until the next placement season.
But perhaps we should not move on so quickly.
Because CSSPS is more than a computer system.

It is the mechanism through which hundreds of thousands of young Ghanaians begin the next chapter of their education.

For the student who gets the dream school, it can be a moment of triumph.

For the student who does not, it can feel like the end of a dream.
But the school a child attends should not determine the limits of that child’s future.

The real measure of Ghana’s education system should be whether every child, regardless of the school assigned, has access to quality teaching, adequate facilities, opportunity and a fair chance to succeed.

Twenty-one years after CSSPS was introduced, perhaps the question is no longer simply whether the system works.

The question is whether we are ready to make it work better for everyone.
School placement is here again.

The celebrations will fade. The tears will dry. The queues at resolution centres will eventually disappear.

But the lessons must remain.
Ghana should not wait another year to fix the problems we already know exist.

For Ghana, that time has come.

The country’s basic and secondary education system has become excessively obsessed with examinations, grades, aggregates, school categories and placement.

Every year, hundreds of thousands of young people are pushed through the same cycle.

Write the Basic Education Certificate Examination.

Wait for the results.

Select schools.

Pray for placement.

Fight over Category A schools.

Accept Category B or C when Category A does not work.

Then spend three years preparing for another major examination — the West African Senior School Certificate Examination.

After that, compete again for university admission.

And we call this education.

I do not.

I call it an examination pipeline.

And Ghana needs to have the courage to dismantle it.

SCRAP THE BECE. SCRAP THE WASSCE. START AGAIN.

My position is straightforward:

The BECE and WASSCE, in their current high-stakes forms, should be scrapped.

Not renamed.

Not cosmetically reformed.

Not subjected to another committee review.

Not given another grading formula.

Scrapped.

And replaced with a modern assessment system that measures what children actually know, what they can do, what they are capable of learning and what pathway best suits their abilities.

Because if the objective of education is to develop human beings, then our assessment system should not be designed primarily to sort them into winners and losers.

What exactly are we achieving with BECE?

Consider what happens after a child writes the BECE.

The child does not simply graduate from basic education and move smoothly into secondary education.

The child enters another competition.

The current CSSPS system requires candidates to make choices across school categories. Under the 2026 guidelines, candidates can select up to two Category A schools, up to three Category B schools and additional Category C choices. (CSSPS)

And this is where the absurdity begins.

We have created a system in which the letters A, B and C have become a social ranking of children and schools.

Category A.

Category B.

Category C.

Everybody understands what these letters are increasingly perceived to mean.

A is the “best.”

B is the next level.

C is what many people regard as the option you settle for when you cannot get what you wanted.

But who created this mentality?

We did.

And government policy has helped institutionalise it.

Instead of asking why every public senior high school cannot provide a comparable standard of education, we have created a competition for a limited number of schools and then designed a computerised system to distribute disappointment.

That is not educational transformation.

The placement crisis is telling us something

The latest placement exercise should force the country to pause.

Reports indicate that roughly 50,000 BECE candidates failed to qualify for SHS placement because they did not meet the required English or Mathematics threshold. (Facebook)

Think about that number.

These are not numbers on a spreadsheet.

They are children.

Fifty thousand young people.

Behind every candidate is a mother, a father, a guardian, a teacher and a family that has invested years of hope in that child’s education.

Yet our response is essentially:

You failed the required subjects, so you did not qualify.

Then what?

Where is the structured second chance?

Where is the intensive remedial pathway?

Where is the alternative educational route?

Where is the system designed to identify why the child failed and help the child overcome the problem?

Instead, we have built an education system where one examination can determine whether a child progresses to the next stage.

That is too much power to give to one examination.

And then comes WASSCE

Suppose the child survives BECE and enters SHS.

The examination culture does not end.

It becomes worse.

For three years, the student is told that another examination is waiting.

WASSCE.

Three years of schooling eventually become condensed into examination performance.

Then we publish league tables.

We compare schools.

We compare regions.

We compare candidates.

We celebrate the highest-performing schools.

We shame the lowest-performing ones.

And once again, the system asks:

Who passed?

But I want to ask a different question:

What did they learn?

There is a difference.

A student can learn how to pass an examination without necessarily developing the intellectual, practical, social and professional competencies required to succeed in life.

The WASSCE culture has become too powerful

WASSCE was created as an assessment mechanism.

But it has gradually become something much larger.

It determines university opportunities.

It determines public perception of schools.

It determines whether a student is labelled academically successful.

It influences parental decisions.

It influences school reputations.

It influences employment conversations.

And it reinforces the idea that academic performance in a standardised examination is the most important indicator of a young person’s potential.

That is a dangerous philosophy.

A child is more than an aggregate.

A child is more than a grade.

A child is more than a WASSCE certificate.

We are producing examination survivors

Our education system should be producing thinkers.

Problem-solvers.

Researchers.

Entrepreneurs.

Technicians.

Scientists.

Writers.

Engineers.

Farmers.

Designers.

Innovators.

Leaders.

But too often, the immediate objective becomes:

Pass the examination.

So students memorise.

Teachers rush through syllabuses.

Parents pay for extra classes.

Schools compete over results.

Students become terrified of failure.

And everybody forgets the fundamental purpose of education.

To prepare a human being for life.

The category system exposes the deeper problem

The Category A, B and C arrangement is not the root of the problem.

It is a symptom.

The deeper problem is that Ghana has allowed its education system to become a hierarchy of institutions instead of a network of institutions providing quality education.

The CSSPS guidelines themselves acknowledge the categories and use them to regulate school choices. (CSSPS)

But why should we need such a hierarchy?

If one school has better laboratories, improve laboratories elsewhere.

If one school has better teachers, examine its staffing and leadership.

If one school has better ICT facilities, replicate the infrastructure.

If one school consistently produces stronger academic outcomes, investigate what it is doing differently and spread those practices.

Do not simply put a letter beside the school’s name and tell the rest of Ghana that some schools are superior.

That is lazy policy.

The computer cannot solve a human problem

We have become too fascinated with computerised placement.

Automatic placement.

Self-placement.

Manual placement.

The official CSSPS system even provides these different placement routes. (CSSPS)

But a computer can only process the rules humans give it.

If the rules produce inequality, the computer will efficiently distribute the inequality.

If the system has too few spaces in highly demanded schools, the computer cannot manufacture additional spaces.

If parents believe Category A is superior to Category C, the computer cannot change that perception.

Technology is not the solution to a fundamentally flawed educational philosophy.

What should replace BECE and WASSCE?

Scrapping BECE and WASSCE does not mean scrapping assessment.

That distinction is critical.

Ghana should replace the current high-stakes examination model with continuous, competency-based and nationally moderated assessment.

A student’s performance should be assessed over time.

Their academic knowledge should matter.

But so should:

• critical thinking;
• communication;
• digital literacy;
• creativity;
• practical skills;
• problem-solving;
• teamwork;
• research;
• entrepreneurship;
• technical competence; and
• civic responsibility.

A national assessment can still exist.

But it should not be a single examination that effectively tells a teenager:

This is how much your future is worth.

We need multiple routes to success

Not every Ghanaian child needs to become a university graduate.

And there is nothing inferior about that.

We need world-class technical and vocational education.

We need modern apprenticeship programmes.

We need strong agricultural education.

We need technology and digital-skills pathways.

We need creative arts.

We need entrepreneurship.

We need professional education.

We need academic education.

The mistake is pretending that every child must pass through exactly the same examination gate before society recognises their potential.

Ghana should stop ranking schools and start strengthening them

Imagine a different Ghana.

Imagine a country where a child does not have to obsess over whether their school is Category A, B or C.

Imagine parents asking:

“What programme does the school offer?”

“What are the teachers like?”

“What practical opportunities does my child have?”

“What skills will my child acquire?”

“What support does the school provide?”

That is the conversation we should be having.

Not:

“Which category is the school?”

This is not an attack on teachers

Our teachers deserve enormous respect.

Many teachers are working under difficult circumstances and doing everything they can to help students succeed.

The problem is the architecture within which they operate.

A teacher cannot fundamentally change an assessment system alone.

A headteacher cannot abolish WASSCE.

A parent cannot abolish CSSPS.

A student certainly cannot.

Government must take responsibility for the system it has designed.

The government must stop patching the problem

Every year, we hear about reforms.

Change the number of school choices.

Change the categories.

Adjust the placement process.

Open self-placement.

Modify the rules.

Then the following year, we return to the same arguments.

This is not reform.

It is maintenance.

Ghana needs structural reform.

And structural reform sometimes requires admitting that an old system has reached the end of its useful life.

Scrap it — and build something better

I am therefore calling for a national conversation on the complete abolition of the current BECE and WASSCE model.

Not because examinations are inherently evil.

Not because academic standards do not matter.

And certainly not because students should not be assessed.

But because the assessment system should serve education — education should not serve the assessment system.

That distinction has been lost.

We have allowed the examination to become the destination.

It should only be one tool along the journey.

The children of Ghana deserve better.

They deserve an education system that discovers their strengths rather than defining them by their weaknesses.

They deserve an education system that gives a struggling student another opportunity rather than closing the door.

They deserve schools whose quality does not depend on whether they carry an A, B or C label.

They deserve pathways that recognise the engineer, the lawyer, the journalist, the farmer, the electrician, the programmer, the entrepreneur, the artist and the skilled technician.

Most importantly, they deserve an education system designed for the Ghana of 2030 and beyond, not one that simply continues what previous generations inherited.

So yes, I will say it plainly:

SCRAP THE BECE.

SCRAP THE CURRENT WASSCE MODEL.

SCRAP THE CATEGORY A, B AND C PRESTIGE CULTURE.

SCRAP THE EXAMINATION-OBSESSED MODEL OF EDUCATION.

Then let us build something worthy of the Ghanaian child.

Because the purpose of education is not to produce children who are exceptionally good at passing examinations.

The purpose of education is to produce people who are exceptionally prepared for life.

Sadly, Ghana has lost that glory. We have traded high standards and quality for propaganda and clicks. Radio and television stations now allow everything and anything just for views.

We chase clickbait without concern for its consequences on the public good.

There is no proper production. News bulletins have become opinion shows. People say anything, anyhow, and go live on air without context, fact-checking, or retraction.

It is as if we are in a jungle, no values, nothing. Yet we are quick to compare ourselves to nations that are progressing precisely because they apply principles and values.

Choice of words no longer matters. Unsavory, unprintable language is now considered “normal.” Presenters pontificate instead of analyse.

News is no longer reported; it is performed. The question is: How do we grow as a nation without standards?

The Constitution Gave Freedom With Responsibility.

Our media freedom was not accidental. The framers of the 1992 Constitution devoted an entire chapter to it.

Article 162(1) guarantees: “Freedom and independence of the media are hereby guaranteed.”

Article 162(4) protects editors from control and harassment for their editorial views.
Article 21(1)(a) guarantees every Ghanaian freedom of speech and expression.
But this freedom was never absolute. It came with a duty.

Article 164 is explicit: The freedoms in Articles 162 and 163 are subject to laws “reasonably required in the interest of national security, public order, public morality and for the purpose of protecting the reputations, rights and freedoms of other persons.”

In other words, media freedom is not freedom to defame, to incite, or to pollute the public sphere.

Article 167 creates the National Media Commission (NMC) and mandates it to:
(a) promote and ensure the freedom and independence of the media;

(b) “take all appropriate measures to ensure the establishment and maintenance of the highest journalistic standards in the mass media, including the investigation, mediation and settlement of complaints made against or by the press or other mass media;” and

(c) insulate state-owned media from governmental control.

The National Media Commission Act, 1993 (Act 449) and the Electronic Communications Act, 2008 (Act 775) which empowers the NCA to regulate broadcast spectrum, further reinforce this mandate for standards and public interest.

Even the repeal of criminal libel in 2001 did not remove professional responsibility.

The GJA Code of Ethics, the NMC Guidelines for Local Language Broadcasting, and Sections 208 of the Criminal Offences Act (Act 29) on publication of false news still hold journalists accountable for truth, fairness, and decency.

Where Are The Gatekeepers?
The NMC, GJA, GIBA, PRINPAG, and all the bodies that were once the checking and balancing tools to ensure quality are now looking on, all in the name of media freedom, pluralism, and competition.

Freedom without standards is anarchy. Pluralism without ethics is noise.
TV, radio and online portals now copy each other’s sub-standard content in a race to the bottom, all because of who has the highest views.

Media is not about who has the most beautiful and handsome presenters and anchors. It is about credibility, accuracy, and service to Ghana.

Action Now Or Never
Ghana can only progress when we agree that we cannot do anything anyhow and expect different results.
We need action now:

1. The NMC must bite. Use Article 167(b) to enforce its content standards, investigate, and sanction. Mediation is not enough.
2. GJA and GIBA must purge and train. Reinstate peer review and enforce the Code of Ethics.
3. Media Owners must invest in producers. Go back to the glory days where producers directed what should be said and what should not be said. Hire gatekeepers, not just faces.
4. The public must punish clickbait. Switch off, report, and patronize quality.
   Media freedom under Article 162 was given to us to build democracy, not to destroy it.
   Better late than never. Let us go back to the days of standards, values, and truth.

Because without standards, we have no media. We only have a loudspeaker in a jungle.

But woe unto anyone who was named ‘Justice’ even at birth. It’s even worse if Justice was conferred as a title.

In either case, please don’t run across the village square beating your chest as King Solomon; for Justice is also a cross, indeed an eternal burden that may trail you until death do you part.

The title may sentence you to a life of misery: solitude, loneliness (‘anti-so,’), when you realize overnight that you are always home alone.

If you break jail and escape to normal social life, Justice Asomasi, please be prepared for the ‘kwɛnsekwɛnses’ as said in Cape Coast. That is indeed the current plight of Justice Baffoe Bonnie: he has broken jail.

If you were a judge of the Supreme Court those days, people stole glances at you in public, and sinners could even flee, fearing possible orders of ‘monkye no.’

To ever meet a Chief Justice was rare since he was by law often in disguise: wig, gown plus a frown. He was a virtual archbishop; alpha and omega; King Solomon’s next of kin.

The world of justices became more common in 2013, during the Supreme Court hearings on 2012 elections, when the baritone voice of Justice Atugugba on live TV, brought ‘deities’ to your doorstep.

I myself never knew he was mortal enough until 2019, when, in my capacity as a temporary big man, I sat next to him at an official function in Accra.

I was surprised to have survived a 30-minute chat with him and to learn that he was even an uncle to my classmate in Legon.

With Chief Justice Baffoe-Bonnie, I knew he was courting trouble when soon after his big appointment 2025, he was ‘caught’ at a thanksgiving church service making merry and dancing like a mortal: waste-line liberated, hands mid-air, singing joyously, and virtually lost in merriment.

Unbeknownst to him, TV cameras followed, ignoring the media convention: ‘New Chief Justice dances in church, please switch off cameras.’

I knew Baffoe-Bonnie fairly well in his Sarbah Hall days, and was aware that unrestrained, his regular dance moves could set off a fire alarm!

I had also followed him as part of the historic Supreme Court panel whose ruling ratified the Mahama/Amissah-Arthur presidency.

In 2025, Baffoe came under close scrutiny on his appointment as Chief Justice to replace Ghana’s third female CJ (Torkonoo), who had been unfairly removed.

In replacing the beloved CJ, had Ghana exchanged its digital color television for a black and white analogue? The answer now blows in the wind.

May 2026, our CJ travels to the US/Canada for the World Cup with a government delegation, joining in the joyous celebration of Ghana in matches won (no problem, but eyebrows were raised).

Next stop, joining government delegations mourning with the Gold Boy Sammy on the passing of his in-law. (No problem, but eyebrows raised.)

The last straw was this September when he ignored multiple judicial issues overflowing his in-tray and strayed into the realm of state-owned enterprises, which was none of his formal business.

Here, CJ waxed political without apologies. He stunned his audience, comparing the high productivity of current staff, to their dismal performance in the previous Government now in opposition. Justice Baffoe-Bonnie only stopped short chanting a party slogan.

The incident was without precedence and courted anger and shock across the landscape: a rude awakening that Ghana’s scale of justice had been vandalized by the Chief himself, who then loses any moral authority to lead an independent judiciary. In traditional settings he would have walked back home barefooted.

Find below a sampling of the public uproar in the media:

‘The JDM boy has taken over Government PR’…’ Judiciary independence is gone…’ ‘A disgrace to the judiciary…’ ‘Desecrating the office of CJ…’ ‘When I saw the video, I said Jesus we are doomed…’ ‘CJ has won a political jersey… grounds for resignation’… ‘He has overstepped his bounds’— ‘the judiciary is now led by a politician,’ etc. And then this bombshell: ‘He has been working with us since 2012…’

The September breaking news reminds me of the late 1990’s when the Council of State ‘absent-mindedly’ vacated their office and became presidential errand boys: welcoming the President at the airport, reading speeches on his behalf, etc.

Then also was the horror story of one great Justice, who got promoted as CJ in 1996 but immediately stumbled by jailing a columnist in error.

My right hand at the time charitably advised the President to quickly write to the CJ and ‘apologize unreservedly for any embarrassment the promotion has caused him.’

In the current case though, our CJ has only three months to retire, having gotten his new position close to his sendoff.

If so, C. J.’s tongue-slip should be simply interpreted by the President as an APPLICATION FOR EARLY RETIREMENT.

In truth, CJ’s venerable title as ‘Chief’ has faded too soon, leaving behind an impaired reputation and a tilted scale of justice.

We live in very uncertain and precarious times. If one would heed the advice of the prophet Amos (in Amos 5:13), silence, outright silence will become our lot.

Yet, we are invited into CITIZENSHIP by the Constitution, 1992 in Articles 2, 3, and 41 to be brief. So, carefully and cautiously, we shall proceed to execute our Republican responsibility without fail. Indeed, I have the privilege to be a true REPUBLIC DAY BORN. May God be our Help as in ages past.

MY ARGUMENT

The 1992 Constitution is unambiguous about who the Chief Justice is and what s/he does. It gives him only TWO functions.

One: Article 125(4) — “The Chief Justice shall, subject to this Constitution, be the Head of the Judiciary and shall be responsible for the administration and supervision of the Judiciary.”

Two: Article 128(1) and 128(3) — He is a Justice of the Superior Courts, and presides at sittings of the Supreme Court.

That is all. Administrative head of the Judiciary. Presiding judge of the final court. Nothing more.

The Constitution deliberately walls the CJ off from the Executive and Legislature. Article 125(3) is emphatic: “…neither the President nor Parliament nor any organ or agency of the President or Parliament shall have or be given final judicial power.”

By parity of reasoning, neither shall the Judiciary be given or allowed Executive or Legislative powers. That is simple separation of powers.

So what is the Chief Justice doing electing to visit State Owned Enterprises to assess their performance? On what constitutional peg does he hang that tour?

Is an SOE a court? Is GRIDCo a division of the Judicial Service? Is COCOBOD under the supervision of the Chief Justice under Article 125(4)? Is TOR, ECG, Ghana Water Company Limited part of the Judiciary to be administered?

NO!

SOEs are creatures of statute under Article 190 and the executive arm. Their supervision belongs to the President through SIGA and sector Ministries, to Parliament through oversight, and to the Auditor-General. Not to the Chief Justice.

Therefore, the visits are untenable, unwarranted, and unconstitutional for three reasons:

1. It is Ultra Vires: It exceeds the administrative mandate of Article 125(4). Administration and supervision of the Judiciary cannot be stretched to mean inspection of executive commercial entities. That is constitutional officiousness. Nhwehwɛanimu in Twi.

2. It destroys Appearance of Independence: Article 127(1) says in the exercise of judicial power, the Judiciary shall be subject only to the Constitution and shall not be subject to control or direction of any person or authority.

When the CJ begins to tour entities which are frequent litigants before his courts, ECG sued every week, COCOBOD, GNPC in constant litigation, how does he later preside over their cases without bias? He has become an interested party. He has moved from umpire to player.

3. It is Political Work: The comments attributed to him about the past eight years and making Mahama succeed already poisoned the well. Now to follow it with tours of SOEs to lecture on their performance is to act as a Minister of State.

The Chief Justice is not a visiting efficiency consultant. The robe is not a political jersey. It gets worse when these comments are unresearched to say the least.

And this is why any further comment to defend the officiousness only adds insult to injury. It compounds the error.

Silence and retreat would be wiser than the noise making justifications, rationalisation, and equalisation. There is NO such record to equalise. Period! Let’s stop him from any further decay.

OBITER DICTA – WHERE JUDGES ARE PERMITTED TO SPEAK FREELY

Yes, judges are at liberty to make general remarks about happenings in the country. But the Constitution permits that strictly within the judicial function — in judgments, in obiter dictum.

An obiter is a remark made by the way, in passing, while deciding a live case before the court. It is not a press conference.

It is not a courtesy call. It is a permissible free expression of the judge on day to day happenings as a member of society affected by it.

Classical examples:

• Justice Jones Dotse in Woyome v. Attorney-General (2014) — “create, loot and share.” That devastating indictment of public sector rot was made inside a judgment concerning the unconstitutional payment of GH¢51m to Alfred Woyome.
• It was judicial commentary anchored to a case.
• Justice Date-Bah in Tetteh v. Mensah — on the cancer of litigation and family property.
• Justice Sowah in Tuffour v. Attorney-General (1980) — the famous dictum that a Constitution is a living organism.
• Justice Atuguba in the 2013 Election Petition — warning that “electoral fraud is not in our law.”

That is permitted. That is courage within jurisdiction. A judge sees rot exposed by evidence before him and comments in his judgment to deepen our democracy.

What is NOT permitted is for the Chief Justice to leave the courtroom, enter an SOE boardroom with cameras, and give running commentary on the economy. That is not obiter. That is obiter outside the court — officious political commentary.

If CJ Baffoe-Bonnie has views on SOEs, let him wait until an SOE matter appears before the Supreme Court, and then, in a proper ratio or obiter, tell us whether the law was obeyed.

Until then, he should stay in his constitutional lane.

The Chief Justice is Head of the Judiciary. Not Head of SOE Inspection under SIGA or its parent ministry.

Ghana shall live and NOT die in the hands of those who seek her death.

Chief Justice Paul Baffoe-Bonnie said: “Pres. Mahama’s agenda is one that will benefit Ghana. We should do everything to ensure that he succeeds.”

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this statement, and here is why:

1. The President’s Success Is Ghana’s Success

John Dramani Mahama is not just National Democratic Congress (NDC) President; he is President of the Republic of Ghana. His failure is Ghana’s failure. His success is Ghana’s success.

If President John Dramani Mahama’s agenda to reset Ghana, fight corruption, create jobs and stabilise the economy succeeds, every Ghanaian benefits, including the New Patriotic Party (NPP) supporters. What kind of citizen, let alone a Chief Justice, would want the President of Ghana to fail?

2. The Chief Justice Has Freedom of Speech and a Right to Nation Building

The Chief Justice did not say “NDC must win 2028”. He did not say “vote for NDC”. He spoke about Ghana. The Constitution guarantees every Ghanaian, including Justices, the right to hold opinions on matters of national interest. Calling for collective support for a national agenda is not partisan politics; it is PATRIOTISM! We should be commending him, not condemning him.

3. Judicial Oath Does Not Mean Silence on National Development

The Judicial Oath requires Judges to be impartial in cases before them, not to be silent robots on national development. Chief Justices in other democracies comment on national progress. The Chief Justice was speaking at a nation building forum, not from the bench. He was encouraging citizens to support a development agenda that he believes will benefit Ghana. That is leadership.

4. The Hypocrisy Must Stop

When past Chief Justices made similar calls for support for government programs those now shouting today were silent. We cannot have one standard for one government and another for President Mahama’s government.

Let us be honest. President Mahama’s reset agenda is indeed for the benefit of Ghana. The Chief Justice as an eminent statesman has every right to call on all of us to support it to succeed.

Ghana first.

By Anatu Anne Seidu Bogobiri Esq., DCEO National Health Insurance Authority

We have placed all of them beneath English.

The discovery came to public attention after the Executive Secretary of the Bureau of Ghana Languages, Ebenezer Ahiator, told Parliament’s Committee on Chieftaincy, Culture and Religious Affairs that Ghana should not adopt one indigenous language as a national language.

The reason is understandable.

If we choose one Ghanaian language, speakers of the remaining languages may feel that theirs have been declared second-class citizens.

And so, in the great Ghanaian tradition of solving a quarrel between two brothers by giving the family property to the neighbour, we have apparently settled the matter.

English wins.

Nobody is offended.

Except perhaps the Ghanaian languages.

The argument has since entered Facebook, that unofficial second chamber of Parliament where every Ghanaian possesses a constituency, a microphone and an unlimited speaking time.

Within hours, the matter had ceased to be about linguistics.

It became history.

Colonialism entered.

Tribalism arrived carrying a chair.

 Politics appeared without invitation.

Then somebody mentioned Twi, and the meeting was properly constituted.

The problem with discussing a national language in Ghana is that the moment somebody proposes Twi, another person does not hear merely a language.

He hears Kumasi.

He hears Akan dominance.

He hears somebody arriving with linguistic luggage and attempting to occupy the national sitting room.

The Twi advocate, meanwhile, is equally puzzled.

He points to the market woman in Tamale bargaining with a trader from Kumasi.

He points to the trotro mate in Accra.

He points to churches, radio stations, workplaces and roadside conversations.

“Are we not already speaking it?” he asks.

This is where Ghanaian reality becomes troublesome.

A language does not always wait for Parliament to pass a law before becoming useful.

Markets have their own constitutions.

Transport stations conduct their own referenda.

Long before committees, consultants and stakeholder engagements arrive, ordinary people sometimes solve communication problems by simply opening their mouths.

Twi, in various forms, has undoubtedly acquired wide currency beyond Akan communities.

But widespread use is not the same thing as national ownership.

A goat may enter every compound in the village; that does not automatically make it the village chief.

Those who resist the elevation of one indigenous language therefore have a legitimate concern.

Ghana is not linguistically empty land waiting for the largest language group to plant a flag.

Ewe carries history.

Ga carries memory.

Dagbani carries civilisation.

Dagaare, Gonja, Nzema, Fante, Kasem, Gurene, Dangme, Likpakpaanl and many others carry entire worlds inside them.

A language is not merely a collection of words.

It is where a people store their jokes, insults, prayers, proverbs, courtship, grief and wisdom.

You cannot therefore tell a people, “Do not worry, your language is still important,” immediately after giving another language a national crown, and expect everybody to continue eating peacefully.

Our elders knew this.

When one child receives a bigger piece of meat, the other children suddenly develop advanced skills in measurement.

So the Bureau’s caution deserves respect.

But then we arrive at the uncomfortable part.

If giving special status to one Ghanaian language risks making the others feel inferior, what exactly have we been doing with English?

English occupies Parliament.

English dominates our courts.

English carries most official correspondence.

English sits at the top of the educational ladder.

English conducts job interviews.

English writes the examination that determines whether the child who speaks brilliant Gurene at home is considered academically promising.

And then, after English has occupied the best chair in the room, we tell the Ghanaian languages not to quarrel among themselves because equality is important.

There is a proverb trying desperately to be born here.

The chicken is being warned not to step on the toes of the guinea fowl while the hawk is sitting on the roof.

This is why the debate cannot simply be reduced to “Twi versus the rest.”

The bigger issue is the position of indigenous languages in Ghanaian public life.

Our Constitution itself, under Article 39(3), requires the State to foster the development of Ghanaian languages and pride in Ghanaian culture.

Parliament’s Standing Orders even allow Members to contribute in Ghanaian languages where interpretation is available.

Indeed, Speaker Alban Bagbin has publicly advocated greater use of local languages in parliamentary proceedings.

Yet anyone who has watched Parliament knows where linguistic power actually resides.

English remains the gatekeeper.

An MP may understand perfectly the anxieties of an elderly constituent in Bongo, Keta or Bekwai, but when he rises in the House to explain those anxieties, the Queen’s language, now inherited by King Charles, generally supervises proceedings.

We have therefore created a strange democracy in which citizens are encouraged to participate fully, provided the conversation eventually passes through English.

And English is not neutral merely because no Ghanaian ethnic group owns it.

It may be ethnically neutral, but it is not socially neutral.

The Ghanaian who speaks polished English often receives an immediate intellectual promotion.

The citizen struggling with English may possess acres of wisdom, but by the third grammatical accident, society has quietly reduced his academic rank.

We have all witnessed it.

A man can explain cocoa farming, rainfall patterns, soil behaviour and local economics brilliantly in his mother tongue.

Ask him to repeat the same thing before television cameras in English and suddenly people begin treating him as if the knowledge evaporated somewhere between “Good evening” and “Actually.”

We confuse language proficiency with intelligence at our peril.

Yet the answer cannot simply be to replace English with Twi tomorrow morning and declare the matter settled before lunch.

That would merely exchange one form of linguistic anxiety for another.

Other countries have found different arrangements.

Some maintain an international language while elevating one indigenous language as a national unifier.

Others recognise several official languages.

Some build multilingual systems around regions, education and government services.

Ghana does not need to photocopy Kenya, Tanzania or South Africa.

But neither must we behave as though the only available options are English forever or tribal war by Friday.

Perhaps the real national conversation should begin elsewhere.

What do we want a national language to achieve?

Identity?

Administrative convenience?

Access to government?

Education?

National unity?

Cultural preservation?

Once we answer that question, we may discover that “Which single language should defeat all the others?” was the wrong examination question from the beginning.

Perhaps English can remain an important international and administrative language while Ghana deliberately creates greater national space for several indigenous languages.

Perhaps Parliament should invest seriously in interpretation.

Perhaps government communication should routinely appear in major Ghanaian languages.

Perhaps our children should leave school able to read and write at least one Ghanaian language with the same confidence with which we celebrate their English.

Perhaps speaking impeccable English while being unable to write three correct sentences in your mother tongue should no longer be regarded automatically as evidence of educational progress.

There is something slightly unsettling about a country becoming fluent in everybody else’s language while gradually losing confidence in its own voices.

The Bureau of Ghana Languages is right about one thing.

No Ghanaian language should be allowed to die.

But languages do not die only because another indigenous language becomes dominant.

They also die from neglect.

They die when parents stop speaking them to children.

They die when schools treat them as educational side dishes.

They die when public officials use them only during election campaigns.

They die when educated people begin apologising before speaking them.

And they certainly do not grow stronger merely because English has been appointed neutral referee.

So by all means, let us protect every Ghanaian language from feeling inferior.

But while we are arranging the chairs carefully so that Twi does not sit above Ewe, Ga does not sit above Dagbani and Fante does not offend Nzema, perhaps somebody should look towards the head of the table.

English has been sitting there quietly for a very long time.

And judging by the current debate, it has even convinced us that it is not sitting there at all.

It appears to denigrate the performance of state institutions under the tenure of former President Nana Addo Dankwa Akufo-Addo by wading into an unnecessary and controversial comparison of his administration and the current happenings regarding the performance of State-Owned Enterprises (SOEs).

There is absolutely nothing wrong with commending a state institution for good performance in executing its mandate.

What is particularly troubling, however, is when such commendation is wrapped in a political narrative that does not withstand basic factual scrutiny.

The Chief Justice said, and I quote, “I must congratulate you. I mean, you have done marvelously well. Sometimes, when we hear about the things that you have done and the things that some organisations are doing now, we wonder. Some of us keep wondering what we really have been doing in the past eight years.”

MIIF was established by former President Akufo-Addo through an Act of Parliament (Act 978) in 2018 and became fully operational around 2019/2020. The President assented to the Act on December 3, 2018.

So how can an institution that itself has not existed for eight years be presented as evidence that the previous eight years amounted to being wasteful and doing virtually nothing?

The mathematics alone exposes the logical bankruptcy of this narrative. You cannot benchmark eight years of performance against an institution that has only been operational for about half that period.

The Fund was already a highly profitable and self-sustaining institution from its earliest years. Its impressive financial performance did not magically emerge with the change of government.

By 2023, MIIF had already recorded a net profit of GH¢409 million, almost doubling the GH¢205 million it made in 2022.

The Fund’s revenue also saw a significant boost, climbing from GH¢323 million in 2022 to GH¢456 million in 2023. Assets Under Management grew from approximately US$125 million in October 2021 to reach the one-billion-dollar mark by January 2024.

This was not a fund that was sleeping. This was a fund that was already on a remarkable growth trajectory under the very administration the Chief Justice now seems to dismiss.

According to MIIF’s audited accounts, the Fund recorded an overwhelming GH¢1.904 billion in net profit in 2024, making it the highest-earning State-Owned Enterprise (SOE) for that year.

Its profit even surpassed those of almost every commercial bank in Ghana, with GCB and Ecobank among the exceptions.

The 2024 results were nothing short of historic. The Fund posted GH¢1.964 billion in net income, almost 300% higher than the previous year’s GH¢455 million.

Total assets rose to GH¢11.2 billion, while the Fund maintained a cost-to-income ratio of just 3%, far below global sovereign wealth fund standards. Cash reserves reached a record GH¢5.58 billion, a 69% increase from 2023.

The Auditor-General described MIIF as a “high-performing sovereign minerals fund” with strengthened revenue streams, investment growth, and balance sheet resilience.

The 2024 profit of GH¢1.904 billion exceeded the combined profits of all preceding years since MIIF’s operationalisation in 2018.

That is hardly evidence of an institution that had been neglected or poorly managed for eight years. On the contrary, it is evidence of meticulous building, strategic investment, and disciplined execution all under the previous administration.

After the current government assumed office in 2025, MIIF’s net profit reportedly fell significantly to approximately GH¢1.1 billion.

The result was fundamentally shaped by amendments to the Minerals Income Investment Fund Act, 2018 (Act 978), as effected by the Minerals Income Investment Fund (Amendment) Act, 2025 (Act 1137).

This amendment drastically reduced the Fund’s allocation of minerals royalties and dividends income from 77.6% and 100% respectively in 2024 to just 2% in 2025—a reduction of more than 98 percentage points in a single year.

So, if the numbers are the basis for judgment, then the strongest financial performance cited above occurred before the current government came into office, not after.

The Fund that the Chief Justice is celebrating today delivered its most spectacular results under the very leadership he appears to be questioning.

Was he simply praising a successful state institution, or was he also endorsing a political narrative favourable to the government of the day?

The question becomes even more legitimate given the political sensitivity surrounding appointments associated with his tenure, including the appointment of his wife as Director-General of the Ghana Prisons Service.

The Chief Justice occupies one of the most important constitutional offices in the Republic. The holder of that office must not only be impartial but must also be seen by the public to be impartial. The Judiciary’s independence is not merely a legal principle; it is the bedrock upon which public confidence in our democratic institutions rests.

When the country’s topmost judicial officer appears to be making statements that can easily be interpreted as partisan political commentary, it inevitably undermines public confidence in the neutrality of the judiciary. The Chief Justice’s comments made during a visit to MIIF on September 2, 2026 have already generated significant debate precisely because of the constitutional position he occupies and the Judiciary’s obligation to maintain independence from the executive and political parties.

His remarks about SSNIT preparing to sell its prized assets like the Labadi Beach Hotel further reinforced the impression of an implicit comparison between the present administration and the previous eight-year period under the New Patriotic Party (NPP).

We cannot have a situation where political propaganda is presented as facts simply because it comes from a person occupying a high constitutional office.
The numbers are available. The records are available. And the sequence is clear.

MIIF’s impressive performance did not begin with the current government. If anything, its reported record profit came in 2024, before the change of government.

The Fund was established by the Akufo-Addo administration. It was nurtured into one of the country’s most profitable state entities under that same administration.

Its most spectacular financial year 2024 occurred under that administration. And the profit drop in 2025 occurred after the change of government, partly due to legislative amendments that reduced the Fund’s royalty share from 77.6% to just 2%.

· Why rewrite the history of an institution that the previous administration established and nurtured into one of the country’s most profitable state entities?
· How did we get to a point where the Chief Justice himself appears to be participating in a political narrative?
· Where is the judicial impartiality that the Constitution demands and that Ghanaians deserve?

Ghanaians deserve institutions that speak the truth, not institutions that help manufacture political mythology.

The Chief Justice must remember that his words carry immense weight. When he speaks, the nation listens and interprets. His comments must never give the impression that the highest court in the land has taken sides in the political contest of ideas.

We call on the Chief Justice to focus on the administration of justice and leave political commentary to politicians.

Facts over propaganda. Records over rhetoric. Truth over politics

For a moment, Maryland became an extension of Kumasi.

The magnificent display of Asante culture, the procession of chiefs and queen mothers, and the gathering of Ghanaians and Africans in the diaspora were undoubtedly spectacular. At the centre of it all sat His Majesty Otumfuo Osei Tutu II, Asantehene, occupant of the Golden Stool and embodiment of an institution whose roots stretch centuries into African history.

Akwasidae may have provided the cultural heartbeat of the journey, but what unfolded around it was considerably grander. From the halls of Howard University to discussions on investment and partnerships between Ghanaian and American universities, as well as visits to institutions of faith and heritage, Otumfuo’s engagements in the United States showed how traditional leadership can still play an important role in today’s world.

His visit demonstrated that culture can build relationships, open doors, and connect people across borders. More importantly, it showed that African traditional institutions do not have to leave their history and customs behind to remain relevant in the modern world. On the contrary, history and cultural authority can themselves become powerful resources for negotiating the future.

Diplomacy has traditionally been understood as the preserve of governments: presidents travel with foreign ministers, ambassadors negotiate between states, and governments sign treaties. Otumfuo’s visit to the United States shows how international relations are changing. Today, influence is not built only through political and economic power; culture and traditional heritage can also bring people and nations together.

At Howard University, which itself was a meaningful choice of venue, Otumfuo delivered an important and powerful address. Howard University has occupied a distinguished place in the intellectual and political history of people of African descent. Its Moorland-Spingarn Research Center holds one of the world’s most important collections documenting the global Black experience, including the papers of Ghana’s first President, Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah.

The Asantehene’s presence at the library was an encounter between two enduring institutions of Black history: an African traditional kingdom whose political origins predate the modern Ghanaian state, and an American university deeply connected to the intellectual emancipation of people of African descent.

Otumfuo used the occasion to call for stronger relationships between Ghana and the global African diaspora. For decades, Africa’s relationship with its diaspora has been framed largely through the emotional vocabulary of “return home.” That connection remains important, but Otumfuo’s message suggests the next stage must move from sentiment to structure.

The significance of Howard, therefore, was not simply that a king had spoken at a university, but that a traditional ruler had used one of the most important intellectual platforms to articulate a contemporary vision of African-diaspora partnership.

At the Africa Business Investment Summit, held at MGM National Harbor on August 27 and 28, Otumfuo stood before investors, policymakers, and members of the diaspora to confront one of the most persistent contradictions of the African story: a continent rich in natural resources, human potential, and cultural capital, yet one where large portions of its population still live without the prosperity those resources should afford.

Challenging the old narrative, he invited investors to see Africa as a continent of opportunity, urging them to do more than simply move capital. Investment, he argued, should build human capacity, create employment, support industrialisation, and leave footprints that outlast the financial statements.

Another important chapter of the visit unfolded through higher education. On August 27, Virginia State University formalised a partnership with the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology (KNUST), and Otumfuo took part in the signing as Chancellor of KNUST. The memorandum establishes opportunities for student and faculty exchange, collaborative research, and cross-cultural learning.

Education has remained one of the defining pillars of Otumfuo’s leadership since his installation. His initiatives and chancellorship reflect a long-standing conviction that the future of Asanteman and Ghana is inseparable from the development of human capital. What America witnessed was not a departure from his traditional role but an extension of it.

Otumfuo’s meeting with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce further highlighted the economic side of his visit. The meeting created an opportunity for discussions on strengthening business relations, attracting investment to Ghana and Africa, and building stronger links between American businesses and African opportunities.

His presence in such a setting was significant, as had been long attested to by former presidents of Ghana. It showed that the influence of traditional leadership can extend beyond culture and ceremony into conversations about trade, investment, and economic development. It again demonstrated how the goodwill and international respect attached to the Asantehene can help open doors for partnerships that could benefit not only Asanteman, but Ghana and Africa as a whole.

At first glance, the visit to the Museum of the Bible in Washington, D.C., might appear peripheral. Yet Asante culture is sustained through a sophisticated architecture of memory: oral histories, court poetry (kwadwom), festivals, royal regalia, and ritual.

Akwasidae is itself an institution of remembrance, connecting the living to their ancestors and reminding society that identity is inherited and transmitted, not created afresh by every generation.

As Otumfuo himself put it, “Culture is not the dead object to be placed behind glass. It is a living inheritance that must be understood, practiced, questioned, renewed, and transmitted.”

Museums, too, are custodians of collective memory, and the encounter raises a wider question for Africans: how effectively are we preserving and presenting our own historical memory to the world?

And then came the Grand Akwasidae at Bowie State University.

The drums, different shades of kente, umbrellas, and traditional ceremonies were more than a beautiful display. Together, they told the story of Asante history and culture more powerfully than speeches could.

Years from now, photographs of the 2026 Akwasidae in Maryland will remind us of a truly historic occasion: the colourful display, the chiefs and queen mothers, the sound of the drums, and Otumfuo sitting in state as thousands gathered to celebrate Asante culture.

It will also be remembered for Otumfuo’s lecture at Howard University, his discussions on investment, the partnerships between Ghanaian and American universities, and his engagement with the African diaspora.

Above all, the visit showed that an African traditional ruler can remain deeply rooted in culture and tradition while still helping to shape the future.

Otumfuo did not simply take Akwasidae to America. He carried with him a story about what Africa has been, what Africa is, and what it might yet become, demonstrating that authority inherited from the past can serve the future.

When the final Fontomfrom drum sounded in Maryland, and the 2026 Akwasidae entered history, perhaps its most important legacy was not that Asanteman had temporarily come to America, but that Asanteman had shown the world how culture itself can become diplomacy.

Sources close to the sector say manufacturers are preparing to introduce a “Clinker Demurrage Surcharge” of around GH¢12 per bag.

The move follows months of escalating, unbudgeted operational losses tied to severe congestion at Tema Port. The industry estimates these costs have reached a shocking US$45 to US$50 million this year alone.

The core issue stems from extended waiting times at anchorage. Clinker, the key raw material required for cement production, took around seven days to clear port at the beginning of the year. That wait has since ballooned to 40 days.

To make matters worse, daily vessel demurrage rates have risen to approximately US$27,000 per day. A single vessel sitting idle for 40 days racks up over US$1 million in penalty fees before offloading a single tonne.

The challenge is more than just financial. With clinker taking 35 days to travel from China and another 35 to 40 days waiting at Tema, the supply cycle is stretching toward three months. That extended lead time creates a structural bottleneck if port congestion persists.

So who pays?

The industry emphasizes that the upcoming GH¢12 addition is not a standard price increase. Instead, it is being structured as a temporary, direct pass-through surcharge, itemized separately on invoices and subject to quarterly review.

If port clearance times normalize, the surcharge can be adjusted downwards or removed completely.

Beyond the GH¢12 adjustment, industry stakeholders are appealing for broader inter-agency collaboration to resolve the port bottleneck.

The substantial demurrage fees currently being incurred represent a significant drain on foreign exchange, capital flowing directly to international ship owners lines instead of circulating within the Ghanaian economy.

Manufacturers acknowledge ongoing discussions with key government stakeholders, including the Ministries of Trade, Agribusiness and Industry and Transport, but emphasize that port infrastructure and berthing availability remain severely constrained.

Industry players point to potential relief solutions, such as optimizing access to Berths 10 and 11, which could immediately help clear the vessel backlog.

The core message from Ghana’s cement makers is collaborative: addressing port congestion will eliminate the demurrage burden and the need for the surcharge.

Until those port operations are streamlined, however, the industry faces the financial reality of passing on the cost of prolonged offshore delays.

“A total of GHC9.5 million will be paid to clubs,” he added.

The declaration was one of the headline moments during the 32nd Ordinary Congress at the Ghanaman Soccer of Excellence at Prampram as the GFA outlined its financial support package ahead of the 2026/27 Ghana Premier League season.

The announcement follows a similar intervention before the start of the 2025/26 campaign when the government, through a strategic partnership involving the GFA and Adesa Productions Limited (APL), provided GHC1 million to each Premier League club. The initiative was announced by Chief of Staff Julius Debrah and was widely welcomed by clubs struggling with the rising cost of participation in the domestic game.

Let me be clear: there is nothing wrong with government support for football. However, I have always maintained that the Ghana Premier League must eventually become self-sustaining and capable of generating enough revenue to support its stakeholders.

More importantly, it is difficult to justify continuous government investment in a football product that offers little or no measurable return. That is why many observers have described the intervention as more of a corporate social responsibility exercise than a commercial investment.

While the financial support provides welcome relief for clubs, it also highlights a much bigger issue — the continued failure of the Ghana Football Association to secure a headline sponsor for its flagship competition.

Seven years without a headline sponsor

Kurt Okraku is now in his second term as GFA president and has spent nearly seven years at the helm of Ghana football. Yet one of the most significant shortcomings of his administration remains the inability to attract a major sponsor for the Ghana Premier League.

This is particularly concerning because corporate entities continue to invest heavily in Ghana football, especially in the various national teams, including the Black Stars.

Historically, the league has not struggled to attract sponsors. Under previous administrations, companies such as Kinapharma, Ghana Telecom, OneTouch, Globacom, First Capital Plus Bank and Zylofon Cash all served as headline sponsors at different periods.

The most lucrative of those agreements came from Globacom, which committed approximately $15 million over five years — about $3 million annually — before the partnership was terminated.

More recently, betting company betPawa entered into a three-year sponsorship agreement reportedly worth $6 million in 2022. However, the arrangement ended prematurely, with the company eventually opting to focus on locker-room bonus payments to players.

The abrupt collapse of that partnership raised several questions, many of which remain unanswered.

For any company to commit millions of dollars to a football product, there must have been confidence in its potential. Equally, when such a company chooses to walk away before the expiration of its agreement, it inevitably raises concerns about the attractiveness and long-term viability of the product.

Persistent challenges continue to hurt the product

The Ghana Premier League continues to face numerous challenges.

Concerns over declining fan interest, inadequate marketing, allegations of match manipulation, poor officiating, substandard playing surfaces, governance issues and a perceived decline in playing quality have all been raised repeatedly by supporters, journalists and industry stakeholders.

What has frustrated many observers is the perception that football authorities have often appeared more willing to defend the status quo than to confront these issues head-on.

These concerns directly affect the commercial appeal of the league and make it more difficult to attract corporate investment.

About a month ago, I watched Godfred Akoto Boafo, a senior sports journalist and now a football club owner, talk to Kafui Dey and openly declared that he does not watch the Ghana Premier League and does not remember the last time he watched a Premier League game.

I was perplexed and disappointed to hear those remarks from a club owner; likewise, Kafui Dey. As a club owner, you expect him to be interested in the topflight, but it did not turn out to be so.

Financial relief for clubs

Despite the broader concerns, the latest financial package has been warmly received by clubs.

Aduana FC Chief Executive Officer Collins Atta Poku described the support as potentially transformative.

“I would say this is the single most significant and transformative declaration by the FA president in his entire tenure. Now, there has to be consistency,” he said.

“Clubs received the money last season, but coming here today, we were not even certain another support package would be announced.”

“Putting one million Ghana cedis directly into the accounts of 18 Premier League clubs is very significant. It takes away part of the burden that clubs face.”

“For Aduana, about a third of our budget could be covered by that amount. It is significant.”

His comments reflect the reality faced by many Ghanaian clubs, most of which operate under severe financial constraints.

Kofi Adams asks the difficult questions

Before the financial package was announced by Mr Okraku, the Sports and Recreation Minister Kofi Adams raised critical questions that strike at the heart of the league’s long-term challenges.

“The new Ghana Premier League season is about to start. Who exactly are we asking Ghanaians to come and watch?” he asked.

“Who is the star? Who is the player every child is talking about? Whose jersey do young supporters want to buy? Who is the personality on the billboard?”

The minister questioned whether clubs and football administrators have done enough to market the league’s talent.

“There was a time when Charles Taylor was an attraction. Dong Bortey was an attraction. Ishmael Addo and Stephen Oduro were attractions. Supporters knew the characters of the league. They were heroes. The rivalries were deep and the personalities were identifiable.”

“Today, there are more media platforms than we had in the past. There are more opportunities to market players, but who are they and where are they? Why are we hiding them? Or have we not been able to produce them?”

His remarks highlighted a key issue: football is not only about competition; it is also about personalities, narratives and entertainment value.

Adams further stressed the need for a deliberate player-development strategy.

“The world has changed. Talent identification is deliberate. Coaching is deliberate. Sports science is deliberate. Competition exposure is deliberate. Player data is deliberate. Transition is deliberate. Everything is deliberate.”

“We cannot compete with deliberate systems through hope.”

Those comments represent some of the most important questions currently facing Ghana football.

Can the Premier League survive on government support alone?

The reality is that government support, while appreciated, cannot become the foundation of the Ghana Premier League’s financial model.

Governments change. Priorities change. Economic conditions change.

If a future administration decides not to continue the support package, what becomes of the clubs?

That uncertainty makes the search for a headline sponsor even more urgent.

Over the years, several GFA officials, including Vice President Mark Addo, Executive Council member Nana Oduro Sarfo and Head of Public Relations Strategy Neil Armstrong-Mortagbe, have spoken publicly about ongoing negotiations with potential sponsors.

Yet despite the assurances, no headline sponsorship agreement has materialised.

A defining challenge for the Okraku administration

As Kurt Okraku considers seeking a third term as GFA president following the recent approval of constitutional amendments, securing a major sponsor for the Ghana Premier League may ultimately become one of the defining measures of his administration’s success.

Financial support from government can help clubs survive, but sponsorship, marketing, improved officiating, stronger governance and increased fan engagement are what will help the league thrive.

The Ghana Premier League is currently ranked 100th in the world and 14th in Africa by the International Federation of Football History and Statistics (IFFHS). Those rankings underline the work that remains to be done if the competition is to regain its standing and attract sustained corporate investment.

As the 2026/27 season gets underway, clubs can take encouragement from the financial support available to them, but one question continues to linger over Ghana’s top flight:

When will the Ghana Premier League secure a headline sponsor once again?

Until that question is answered, the league’s long-term sustainability will remain uncertain, regardless of the welcome financial interventions being provided today.

And as the new season begins, one can only hope that the eventual champions will be determined by events on the pitch and not by the influence of those who wield power behind the scenes.

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Upon hearing of the case in the media, such a party can enter an appearance and participate in the case. Alternatively, the party can instruct his lawyers to undertake, in writing, to accept service and file his defence. Hiding behind non-service, particularly when one’s own actions have made service difficult or impracticable, is a cowardly act of running away from the allegations he has made.

I make this claim based on the reasons below:

Commencing Civil Action in Ghana

Generally, in Ghana, civil proceedings are commenced by the filing of a writ of summons in court and the service of the writ on the person who is required to respond to the claims stated in the statement of claim that accompanies the writ. This is subject to any existing enactment to the contrary, as the law provides three main means by which an action can be commenced in court. They are: an originating motion on notice, a petition, and the issuance of a writ of summons (commonly known and referred to simply as a “writ”). Where an enactment sets out a procedure for invoking the jurisdiction of the court, a party is expected to comply with that method. (See YAW ANING BOADU V. GHANA LAW SOCIETY AND OTHERS, SUIT NO. GJ/0348/2026, per His Lordship Isaac Addo J., quoting with approval the time-tested position of the courts in BOYEFIO V. NTHC PROPERTIES LIMITED [1996–97] SCGLR 531.)

Service

Following the issuance of the writ, the writ is to be served on the party against whom it has been issued. The Rules of Court provide for several means by which a writ can be served. The HIGH COURT (CIVIL PROCEDURE) RULES, 2004 (C.I. 47), together with its various amendments, which regulate civil proceedings in the High Court and the Circuit Courts, contain various provisions on how service is to be made. For instance, Order 5 Rule 9 provides for the means by which a person with a disability can be served. Order 7 provides for service of process generally, while Order 8 provides for service out of the jurisdiction (i.e., outside Ghana).

Who Can Serve?

Order 7 Rule 1 provides that a document which is required to be served on a person shall be served by a bailiff of the court or a process server registered with the court. At common law, a bailiff is a court officer who assists the court, ensures courtroom security, and serves processes on parties. The object of service is to bring to the notice of an affected party the institution or pendency of court proceedings. Since it is the court that needs to bring to the attention of a party that an action has been instituted against him, the party who instituted the action is generally not involved in the process of service. However, the rules in Order 7, Rule 1 of C.I. 47 allow such a party to direct service.

Importance of Service

Service is fundamental to court processes, and non-service goes to the root of jurisdiction. In FRIESLAND FRICO DOMO ALIAS FRIESLAND FOODS BV V. DACHEL CO. LTD [2012] 1 SCGLR, the Supreme Court, quoting with approval the decision in REPUBLIC V. HIGH COURT, ACCRA; EX PARTE ALLGATE CO. LTD (AMALGAMATED BANK, INTERESTED PARTY) [2007–2008] SCGLR 1041, explained that non-service implies that audi alteram partem, the rule of natural justice, is breached. This is fundamental and goes to jurisdiction. Thus, a court generally has no jurisdiction to proceed with a case if the other party has not been served.

Who Can Be Served

The rules make provision for different persons to be served based on the nature of the case:

1. Personal Service: Generally, a document is to be served personally on a person who is required to be served. This is the first crucial step after a writ or any process initiating a legal action has been issued. This is done by leaving a duplicate or attested copy of the document with the person to be served. Where personal service is hindered by violence, threats or other acts of obstruction by that person or any other person with or under that person, such as a bodyguard, it shall be sufficient for the bailiff to leave the document as near that person as may be practicable.

2. Electronic Service: Pursuant to the 2020 amendment of C.I. 47, ORDER 7 RULE 3A OF C.I. 47, AS AMENDED BY C.I. 133, allows for electronic service of processes. However, this is subject to specific rules. These include the fact that a party who initiates an action shall, at the time of the initiation of the action or filing of the appearance or proceedings, clearly state that he would want service of processes to be done by electronic means. Such a person shall provide his telephone number and electronic mail address. The service through electronic means can be done either by a bailiff, a process server or a party to the case. However, where the service is by a party, that party shall deliver a hard copy of the process to the registrar of the court for verification only.

Since a party has to specifically ask for processes to be served on him electronically, where a party had earlier asked that all processes be served personally but subsequently wants the processes to be served electronically, he would have to notify the registrar of the court.

3. A Lawyer: A lawyer for a party may undertake to accept service. In such a case, the lawyer undertakes, in writing, to accept the writ on behalf of the party. The writ shall, therefore, be deemed to have been duly served on the defendant when it is served on the lawyer.

In TRUSTEESHIP SYNAGOGUE CHURCH OF ALL NATIONS V. AGYEMAN [2010] SCGLR 717, the Supreme Court explained that, normally, when service has to be effected on someone, such service has to be personal. However, such necessity has been qualified to mean that service on the agent put forth by the person in question for the purpose of service is good service.

Acquah JSC (as he then was) explained it clearly in BARCLAYS BANK OF GHANA LTD V. GHANA CABLE CO. LTD [1998–1999] 1 that the first crucial step after a writ of summons or any process initiating a legal action has been issued is for the defendant to be served personally with a copy thereof or notice of the said writ, if permissible, unless the solicitors of the defendant undertake in writing to accept service on behalf of the defendant.

4. Company: In the case of a corporate body, an enactment may provide for the means by which service is to be effected. Where no such provision is made in an enactment, service may be effected by serving it on the chairman, president or other head of the body, or on the managing director, company secretary, treasurer or other similar officer of the company.

5. Stool/Skin: Service on a stool or skin may be effected by serving it on the occupant of the stool or skin or any secretary, clerk or linguist of that stool or skin. Where the stool is vacant, service may be effected by serving it on the regent or caretaker of that stool or skin.

6. Family: Service on a family constituted by customary law may be effected by serving it on the head of the family or any principal member of the family who is, or is acting as, a caretaker of any property of that family, or a principal member of the family.

7. Prison/Police/BNI/EOCO Officers: For a person who is in prison or detention, service may be effected by serving it on any person apparently in charge of the prison or the place of detention, such as a police officer, a BNI officer or an EOCO officer at a police station, BNI office or EOCO office. If, however, access cannot readily be had to the person apparently in charge of the prison or place of detention, service may be effected on any warder, guard or similar officer of that prison or place of detention.

8. MDA: Service on a Minister of State in his capacity as such, or on a ministry or government department, may be effected by serving it on the administrative head of that ministry or department.

9. Attorney-General: SECTION 12 OF THE STATE PROCEEDINGS ACT also provides that documents required to be served on the State for the purpose of, or in connection with, civil proceedings by or against the State shall be delivered at the office of the Attorney-General, to a representative of the Attorney-General in any part of the country, or to any office specified under any law.

10. Parent/Guardian: A process to be served on a person with a disability shall be deemed to have been duly served if served on the father, mother or guardian of the person, or the person with whom the person with disability resides or under whose care the person is. This is provided by ORDER 5, RULE 9 OF C.I. 47.

A person with disability in this context is not used in the general terms as defined by the Persons with Disability Act, 2006 (Act 715). A person with disability in this context means a person under the age of 18 years or a person who is certified by a medical officer to be incapable of managing and administering his or her property and affairs by reason of mental disorder or infirmity of mind.

Substituted Service

Where it becomes difficult to serve a person personally, a party may, with the permission of the court, seek to effect service through other means, such as publication in the newspapers. This option becomes available where three or more attempts have been made without success to effect personal service and any further attempt to effect personal service may result in undue delay, or it is otherwise impracticable, for any reason, to serve the document personally.

This is the means of last resort where personal service is unsuccessful or impracticable. In DAKAR LTD V. INDUSTRIAL CHEMICAL AND PHARMACEUTICAL CO. LTD AND ANOTHER [1981] GLR 461, Taylor JSC, as he then was, explained that substituted service is ordered when personal service is unsuccessful, not when it is impossible.

Is Service a Necessity?

While service goes to the jurisdiction of the case, the Rules of Court make provision for service to be dispensed with. A party who truly believes in his case, upon hearing that a writ has been issued against him, will not wait to be served. ORDER 7 RULE 12(3) provides that where a writ is NOT duly served on a defendant but the defendant files an unconditional appearance, the writ shall be deemed to have been duly served on the defendant and to have been served on the date on which the defendant filed the appearance.

Atuguba JSC explained this in the BARCLAYS BANK case when he noted at page 22 that the object of service is merely to bring to the notice of an affected party the institution or pendency of court proceedings. If, therefore, a party, without actual service, nonetheless deliberately participates in the unserved proceedings, he should be bound by them.

Conclusion

Thus, while service is crucial to proceedings in court, a person who truly believes in his allegations against an individual and truly seeks his day in court could, upon hearing of the case in the media, enter an appearance and participate in the case. Alternatively, the party can instruct his lawyers to undertake, in writing, to accept service and file his defence.

Hiding behind non-service, particularly when one’s own actions have made service difficult or impracticable, is a cowardly act of running away from the issues. While the option of substituted service is available, a party who truly believes in the allegations he has made in the media and who hears of a legal suit against him through the same media should be able to muster the courage to enter an appearance and participate in the case without waiting to be served.

It is, however, argued that a party who truly believes in his allegations against an individual and seeks his day in court does not necessarily need to wait to be served with court processes before taking up the challenge and facing his opponent in court.

Upon hearing of the case in the media, such a party can enter an appearance and participate in the case.

Alternatively, the party can instruct his lawyers to undertake, in writing, to accept service and file his defence.

Hiding behind non-service, particularly when one’s own actions have made service difficult or impracticable, is a cowardly act of running away from the allegations he has made.

I make this claim based on the reasons below:
Commencing Civil Action in Ghana.
Generally, in Ghana, civil proceedings are commenced by the filing of a writ of summons in court and the service of the writ on the person who is required to respond to the claims stated in the statement of claim that accompanies the writ.

This is subject to any existing enactment to the contrary as the law provides three main means by which an action can be commenced in court.

They are: an originating motion on notice, a petition, and the issuance of a writ of summons (commonly known and referred to simply as a “writ”). Where an enactment sets out a procedure for invoking the jurisdiction of the court, a party is expected to comply with that method.

(See YAW ANING BOADU V. GHANA LAW SOCIETY AND OTHERS, SUIT NO. GJ/0348/2026, per His Lordship Isaac Addo J., quoting with approval the time-tested position of the courts in BOYEFIO V. NTHC PROPERTIES LIMITED [1996–97] SCGLR 531.)

Service
Following the issuance of the writ, the writ is to be served on the party against whom it has been issued.

The Rules of Court provide for several means by which a writ can be served.

The HIGH COURT (CIVIL PROCEDURE) RULES, 2004 (C.I. 47), together with its various amendments, which regulate civil proceedings in the High Court and the Circuit Courts, contain various provisions on how service is to be made.

For instance, Order 5 rule 9 provides for the means by which a person with a disability can be served. Order 7 provides for service of process generally, while Order 8 provides for service out of the jurisdiction (i.e., outside Ghana).

Who Can Serve?
Order 7 rule 1 provides that a document which is required to be served on a person shall be served by a bailiff of the court or a process server registered with the court. At common law, a bailiff is a court officer who assists the court, ensures courtroom security, and serves processes on parties.

The object of service is to bring to the notice of an affected party the institution or pendency of court proceedings.

Since it is the court that needs to bring to the attention of a party that an action has been instituted against him, the party who instituted the action is generally not involved in the process of service.

However, the rules in Order 7, Rule 1 of C.I. 47 allow such a party to direct service.

Importance of Service
Service is fundamental to court processes, and non-service goes to the root of jurisdiction.

In FRIESLAND FRICO DOMO ALIAS FRIESLAND FOODS BV V. DACHEL CO. LTD [2012] 1 SCGLR, the Supreme Court, quoting with approval the decision in REPUBLIC V. HIGH COURT, ACCRA; EX PARTE ALLGATE CO. LTD (AMALGAMATED BANK, INTERESTED PARTY) [2007–2008] SCGLR 1041, explained that non-service implies that audi alteram partem, the rule of natural justice, is breached.

This is fundamental and goes to jurisdiction. Thus, a court generally has no jurisdiction to proceed with a case if the other party has not been served.
Who Can Be Served.

The rules make provision for different persons to be served based on the nature of the case;

1. Personal Service: Generally, a document is to be served personally on a person who is required to be served. This is the first crucial step after a writ or any process initiating a legal action has been issued.

This is done by leaving a duplicate or attested copy of the document with the person to be served.

Where personal service is hindered by violence, threats or other acts of obstruction by that person or any other person with or under that person, such as a bodyguard, it shall be sufficient for the bailiff to leave the document as near that person as may be practicable.

2. Electronic Service: Pursuant to the 2020 amendment of C.I. 47, ORDER 7 RULE 3A OF C.I. 47, AS AMENDED BY C.I. 133, allows for electronic service of processes.

However, this is subject to specific rules. These include the fact that a party who initiates an action shall, at the time of the initiation of the action or filing of the appearance or proceedings, clearly state that he would want service of processes to be done by electronic means.

Such a person shall provide his telephone number and electronic mail address. The service through electronic means can be done either by a bailiff, a process server or a party to the case.

However, where the service is by a party, that party shall deliver a hard copy of the process to the registrar of the court for verification only.

Since a party has to specifically ask for processes to be served on him electronically, where a party had earlier asked that all processes be served personally but subsequently wants the processes to be served electronically, he would have to notify the registrar of the court.

3. A Lawyer: A lawyer for a party may undertake to accept service. In such a case, the lawyer undertakes, in writing, to accept the writ on behalf of the party. The writ shall, therefore, be deemed to have been duly served on the defendant when it is served on the lawyer.

In TRUSTEESHIP SYNAGOGUE CHURCH OF ALL NATIONS V. AGYEMAN [2010] SCGLR 717, the Supreme Court explained that, normally, when service has to be effected on someone, such service has to be personal.

However, such necessity has been qualified to mean that service on the agent put forth by the person in question for the purpose of service is good service.

Acquah JSC (as he then was) explained it clearly in BARCLAYS BANK OF GHANA LTD V. GHANA CABLE CO. LTD [1998–1999] 1 that the first crucial step after a writ of summons or any process initiating a legal action has been issued is for the defendant to be served personally with a copy thereof or notice of the said writ, if permissible, unless the solicitors of the defendant undertake in writing to accept service on behalf of the defendant.

4. Company: In the case of a corporate body, an enactment may provide for the means by which service is to be effected. Where no such provision is made in an enactment, service may be effected by serving it on the chairman, president or other head of the body, or on the managing director, company secretary, treasurer or other similar officer of the company.

5. Stool/Skin: Service on a stool or skin may be effected by serving it on the occupant of the stool or skin or any secretary, clerk or linguist of that stool or skin. Where the stool is vacant, service may be effected by serving it on the regent or caretaker of that stool or skin.

6. Family: Service on a family constituted by customary law may be effected by serving it on the head of the family or any principal member of the family who is, or is acting as, a caretaker of any property of that family, or a principal member of the family.

7. Prison/Police/BNI/EOCO Officers: For a person who is in prison or detention, service may be effected by serving it on any person apparently in charge of the prison or the place of detention, such as a police officer, a BNI officer or an EOCO officer at a police station, BNI office or EOCO office.

If, however, access cannot readily be had to the person apparently in charge of the prison or place of detention, service may be effected on any warder, guard or similar officer of that prison or place of detention.

8. MDA: Service on a Minister of State in his capacity as such, or on a ministry or government department, may be effected by serving it on the administrative head of that ministry or department.

9. Attorney-General: SECTION 12 OF THE STATE PROCEEDINGS ACT also provides that documents required to be served on the State for the purpose of, or in connection with, civil proceedings by or against the State shall be delivered at the office of the Attorney-General, to a representative of the Attorney-General in any part of the country, or to any office specified under any law.

10. Parent/Guardian: A process to be served on a person with disability shall be deemed to have been duly served if served on the father, mother or guardian of the person, or the person with whom the person with disability resides or under whose care the person is. This is provided by ORDER 5, RULE 9 OF C.I. 47.

A person with disability in this context is not used in the general terms as defined by the Persons with Disability Act, 2006 (Act 715).

A person with disability in this context means a person under the age of 18 years or a person who is certified by a medical officer to be incapable of managing and administering his or her property and affairs by reason of mental disorder or infirmity of mind.

Substituted Service
Where it becomes difficult to serve a person personally, a party may, with the permission of the court, seek to effect service through other means, such as publication in the newspapers.

This option becomes available where three or more attempts have been made without success to effect personal service and any further attempt to effect personal service may result in undue delay, or it is otherwise impracticable, for any reason, to serve the document personally.

This is the means of last resort where personal service is unsuccessful or impracticable.

IN DAKAR LTD V. INDUSTRIAL CHEMICAL AND PHARMACEUTICAL CO. LTD AND ANOTHER [1981] GLR 461, Taylor JSC, as he then was, explained that substituted service is ordered when personal service is unsuccessful, not when it is impossible.

Is Service a Necessity?

While service goes to the jurisdiction of the case, the Rules of Court make provision for service to be dispensed with.

A party who truly believes in his case, upon hearing that a writ has been issued against him, will not wait to be served. ORDER 7 RULE 12(3) provides that where a writ is NOT duly served on a defendant but the defendant files an unconditional appearance, the writ shall be deemed to have been duly served on the defendant and to have been served on the date on which the defendant filed the appearance.

Atuguba JSC explained this in the BARCLAYS BANK case when he noted at page 22 that the object of service is merely to bring to the notice of an affected party the institution or pendency of court proceedings.

If, therefore, a party, without actual service, nonetheless deliberately participates in the unserved proceedings, he should be bound by them.

Conclusion
Thus, while service is crucial to proceedings in court, a person who truly believes in his allegations against an individual and truly seeks his day in court could, upon hearing of the case in the media, enter an appearance and participate in the case.

Alternatively, the party can instruct his lawyers to undertake, in writing, to accept service and file his defence.

Hiding behind non-service, particularly when one’s own actions have made service difficult or impracticable, is a cowardly act of running away from the issues.

While the option of substituted service is available, a party who truly believes in the allegations he has made in the media and who hears of a legal suit against him through the same media should be able to muster the courage to enter an appearance and participate in the case without waiting to be served.

Driven by curiosity, she tried a bowl of porridge that was too hot, another was too cold, and finally one with the perfect warmth.

She went on to explore everything she could find, settled on her choice, and finally fell asleep in a cozy bed.

Goldilocks may have been meandering, but she knew clearly what was just right for her.

Today, you and I as consumers are Goldilocks.

Today’s consumer wanders through boundless markets, scrolling online, piling products into carts yet offloading them in a minute.

Although businesses are playing along with the increasing consumerism to satisfy consumers’ tastes and preferences, loyalty has become delicate than ever.

How do organisations fix this puzzle, then? And how much pursuit of the consumer is just right? Here are four critical areas I identify from my own experience as Goldilocks, who is spoilt for choice yet gets easily overwhelmed and withdraws loyalty.

1. Innovation: Companies are fighting for consumer attention with the belief that innovation gives them an edge. This is rightly so because Goldilocks gets easily bored and has the tendency to go a-wandering.

Innovation however, can feel too new, if we will admit. Research shows that when innovation exceeds a certain percentage of novelty, it becomes difficult for consumers to adapt. They simply cannot keep up. Sometimes, innovation leads to products becoming complicated and confusing.

To curb this, businesses should consider their target demography. A key question to ask is about the adaptation capacity of the target customer? Do early adopters or laggards dominate? Younger people tend to adapt more easily while older folks have their lifestyles formed already, making change more difficult.

We saw how it took time for Generation X and baby boomers to get accustomed to ride-hailing services due to their relatively low-tech savviness, but when they began to appreciate its safety and convenience, they were driven to jump on.

The value of innovation must be communicated; otherwise, new can feel like too much work and old can be boring.

2. Digitalisation: Everything is becoming digital and everything is becoming rigid. We have moved from in-person customer service to automated systems and AI bots.

This can be great when it works, but wait till you have a complex problem as a customer, it becomes terrifying. I once bought a book on Amazon and was mistakenly debited for one that never appeared in my Kindle.

The refund process was so cumbersome and automated that there was no human face to help me. I felt drowned in a system that could not understand my problem. Customer problems do not always fit neatly into automated categories.

When digitalisation replaces human interaction completely, customer issues remain unresolved. People are becoming exhausted by this.

The Goldilocks consumer wants a level of digitalisation for routine tasks, but they also want a human being who can understand when things go wrong. There was a time I booked a hotel in Morrocco via Booking.com but could not make the trip.

I cancelled in time, but my account was deducted anyway. The automation made it difficult to stop the deduction. I eventually called the hotel and was met with a Moroccan accent that claimed they were entitled to my first night fee.

Some organisations are taking advantage of digitalisation and automated systems to make things easier for them, not customers.

3. Pricing: What pricing is right for what product or service? I have seen a disturbing trend on the Ghanaian market. So-called bougie brands overprice yet underdeliver, creating low industry standards.

Businesses are becoming entitled to outrageous pricing to create exclusivity, while Goldilocks is becoming less and less satisfied.

They are fond of charging premium rates for average quality in Ghana. I have had my share of such experiences with specifically “high-class” salons and restaurants. Exorbitant prices yet you enter and no one attends to you for a good fifteen minutes.

High prices raise consumer expectations, making them feel cheated when the organisation does not match up. On the other hand, organisations sometimes underprice just to attract customers, but it cannot sustain their business.

They make losses and eventually compromise the quality of their service or products. This hurts everyone. Pricing should be based on the value you actually deliver. Differentiation or cost leadership.

Be clear about your target market and understand what that market can afford. Set a price range that is just right for that specific consumer segment, without compromising your profits or the quality of what you offer. When consumers feel they are getting fair value, they stay.

4. Sales: Businesses are competing for Goldilocks. They chase her everywhere. At what point does the pitching and selling become too much? Insurance agents seem to be the most notorious, pursuing the prospects constantly.

On some occasions, I have been pushed into showing disinterest to relieve me of the pressure. On Facebook, you may have also experienced clicking a link and suddenly being funnelled into WhatsApp to place an order before you are ready. At times a beep on your phone turns out to be the dental clinic you visited; it’s their daily texts again, you thought it was a bank alert.

Eventually we find ourselves blocking these companies or marking their emails as spam. We unsubscribe from everything. The very attention they were chasing is lost forever. Moderation is key, once a month is considerable.

Goldilock’s time and inbox deserve courtesy. Sales outreach should add value, not interrupt life. When a customer feels stalked, they run away.

Finally, today’s consumer is aware of alternatives and gives loyalty reluctantly. Businesses feel the immense pressure to win Goldilocks over, but more often than not, they do not know when they are doing the most or not trying at all.

Although stingy with her loyalty, all that Goldilocks wants is a chair that will not break, a bowl of warm porridge, a cozy bed and a brand that pays attention to how much is just right.

About Author:

Sangmorkuor Tetteh, PhD

Lecturer, University of Professional Studies, Accra

Strategy Consultant & Corporate Trainer

Email: sangmorkuor.tetteh@upsamail.edu.gh

For many Ghanaians, the mention of GH¢21.89 billion in connection with the Domestic Gold Purchase Programme (DGPP) naturally raises concern. At a time when households are still recovering from economic hardship, inflation, currency depreciation and high interest rates, any reference to a multibillion-cedi “loss” can understandably cause anxiety.

But economics cannot be understood through headlines alone. To properly appreciate what has happened, we must ask: What exactly does the GH¢21.89 billion represent? Was that amount actually lost in cash? What did Ghana receive in return? Why was gold purchased at market prices? And what has the programme contributed to the wider economy?

The answers present a much more nuanced picture.

The challenge Ghana was trying to solve

Ghana’s economic vulnerabilities did not begin with the Domestic Gold Purchase Programme. One longstanding challenge has been the country’s need for foreign exchange.

Ghana imports fuel, machinery, pharmaceuticals, industrial inputs, vehicles and technology. These imports require dollars and other foreign currencies. When demand for foreign exchange persistently exceeds supply, pressure builds on the cedi.

A weaker cedi makes imports more expensive, and those costs eventually find their way into transportation, food, manufacturing and household expenditure. This is why exchange-rate stability is not merely an issue for economists; it directly affects the daily lives of Ghanaians.

Ghana therefore needs sustainable ways of building its foreign-exchange reserves. This is where gold becomes strategically important.

Central banks across the world are rethinking their reserve portfolios as geopolitical fragmentation raises concerns about the accessibility of foreign-held assets, while dollar-funding pressures continue to influence global financial stability.

Ghana, therefore, needs to follow the example of other countries by diversifying its reserve base and reducing excessive dependence on foreign currencies to mitigate volatility linked to instability in the foreign-exchange market.

Turning Ghana’s gold into economic strength

The Domestic Gold Purchase Programme sought to purchase gold produced domestically, export it and convert the proceeds into foreign exchange that becomes part of Ghana’s reserves.

The programme generated US$13.8 billion in reserves, accumulated from domestic production rather than external borrowing. That distinction matters.

Borrowing dollars gives a country foreign exchange today but creates a repayment obligation tomorrow. Gold production, when properly captured within the formal economy, can provide a domestic source of foreign exchange.

In simple terms, Ghana is attempting to use what it produces at home to strengthen its reserves rather than continually relying on external borrowing.

So, what is the GH¢21.89 billion?

This is perhaps the most misunderstood part of the debate.

The GH¢21.89 billion is primarily an accounting adjustment, not a GH¢21.89 billion cash outflow. An accounting adjustment occurs when an asset is recognised in financial statements using a particular valuation and differences arise because of changes or differences in applicable exchange rates.

In this case, gold was purchased from miners in cedis at prevailing market prices but recorded in the Bank’s books at the official Bank of Ghana exchange rate in accordance with International Accounting Standard (IAS) 21.

Pricing close to the bureau rate is also consistent with Section 3(h) of the Ghana Gold Board Act, 2025 (Act 1140), which requires measures to discourage illegal gold trading.

Gold is acquired at the prevailing market rate because pricing below that level does not effectively reduce the cost to the State. It risks displacing the gold out of the formal economy.

The difference between those rates created an exchange-rate adjustment.

The key point is simple: an accounting loss is not necessarily the same as a cash loss.

The gold was acquired, exported and sold to offtakers, with the resulting foreign exchange becoming part of Ghana’s reserves.

Indeed, after accounting for the government’s GH¢5 billion cost share and GH¢7.9 billion in realised gains on gold bullion sales, the net cost recognised in the Bank’s accounts was GH¢9.05 billion.

Therefore, GH¢21.89 billion represents the gross programme cost, while GH¢9.05 billion represents the Bank’s net share carried in its profit-and-loss account.

Why was the figure so large in 2025?

The framework remained the same from the inception of the DGPP. However, in 2025, two factors operated in the same direction.

First, the cedi appreciated by approximately 40.7% during the year. Appreciation widens the divergence between the market acquisition rate and the official recording rate because the market takes time to adjust. The stronger the cedi, the larger the resulting accounting adjustment in cedi terms.

Second, the programme approximately doubled in scale, from 56.47 tonnes in 2024 to 110.99 tonnes in 2025, with a value of US$11.4 billion.

A wider divergence applied to twice the volume naturally produces a substantially larger figure. Across 2024, the divergence averaged under 5%. Across 2025, it averaged approximately 12%, and considerably more during the second half of the year.

Why not simply buy the gold at the official exchange rate?

This is where economic reality becomes important.

Gold producers operate in a competitive market. If a formal buyer offers significantly below the prevailing market price, the seller has another option: sell to informal buyers or smugglers.

Ghana has experienced this before.

Following the introduction of a 3% withholding tax in 2021, official artisanal and small-scale gold exports fell from 39.3 tonnes to 3.4 tonnes, a 91% decline in one year.

The evidence suggests that production did not simply disappear; rather, gold declarations into the formal system collapsed.

The lesson is clear: if Ghana tries to buy its own gold too cheaply, Ghana may simply lose the gold to informal channels. That means losing the foreign exchange, taxes, traceability and reserve accumulation associated with formal transactions.

What did Ghana gain?

The gains are significant.

Formal artisanal and small-scale gold exports increased from 63.6 tonnes in 2024 to 103 tonnes in 2025.

An independent assessment by economists from the University of Ghana and the University of Ghana Business School suggests that the additional 39.4 tonnes was plausibly gold previously lost to smuggling and subsequently captured within the formal framework.

At 2025 prices, this represented approximately US$3.54 billion in gold redirected from illegal traders into Ghana’s reserves.

That is why the debate should not stop at the accounting adjustment.

We should also ask: How much foreign exchange did Ghana gain? How much gold was brought into the formal economy? How much smuggling was displaced? And how much reserve accumulation was achieved without external borrowing?

Those questions provide a fuller picture of the programme’s economic impact.

Why this matters for the cedi, inflation and interest rates

Stronger foreign-exchange reserves improve the Bank of Ghana’s ability to manage periods of pressure on the cedi.

A more stable cedi can reduce imported inflationary pressures. Lower inflation improves household purchasing power and gives businesses greater certainty in planning.

Lower inflation can also create room for interest rates to decline over time.

This matters enormously.

High interest rates make borrowing expensive, discourage business expansion and constrain investment. Lower interest rates, when supported by sustainable disinflation and macroeconomic stability, can make credit more accessible and create better conditions for businesses to invest, expand and create jobs.

Therefore, a stable exchange rate, lower inflation and declining interest rates are not isolated statistics. Together, they establish the foundation upon which sustainable economic growth can be built.

The Bank of Ghana’s responsibility is not simply to “keep the dollar rate down.” Its broader mandate is to help create the monetary and financial conditions necessary for stability, confidence and sustainable growth.

The weaknesses are being addressed

Acknowledging the gains achieved through the programme does not mean suggesting that it was perfect. It means recognising both its achievements and the reforms being undertaken to address its weaknesses.

Transaction charges reportedly fell from approximately 17% of transaction value before 2025 to 7.25% by February 2026, and subsequently to 5% effective August 1, 2026, with the latter borne by the Ministry of Finance and allocated in the budget.

The Bank also moved towards multiple approved offtakers, increasing competition and improving commercial terms.

The GoldBod service fee was reduced from 0.50% before 2025 to 0.40% in 2025 and subsequently to 0.10%.

More importantly, from July 1, 2026, GoldBod introduced a benchmark pricing framework using international LBMA AM and PM prices.

This is intended to reduce reliance on informal market quotations, improve transparency and ultimately narrow the exchange-rate gap that generated much of the accounting adjustment.

The way forward

Ghana should not respond to the GH¢21.89 billion figure by abandoning the programme. The answer is to make the programme better.

We must continue reducing transaction costs, strengthen transparent benchmark pricing, maintain competition among offtakers, improve disclosure around programme revenues and costs, and intensify the fight against gold smuggling.

Most importantly, Ghana must ensure that the foreign-exchange reserves generated through such programmes contribute to broader macroeconomic stability and, ultimately, improved living standards.

The GH¢21.89 billion debate should therefore become an opportunity for economic education, not merely political confrontation.

Ghanaians deserve accountability and transparency. But they also deserve the complete story.

Economic recovery is not built by one policy or one institution. It is built by fixing vulnerabilities one after another: strengthening reserves, stabilising the currency, reducing inflation, lowering the cost of credit, restoring confidence, encouraging investment, expanding production and creating jobs.

The Bank of Ghana should never be above scrutiny. But it should also not be judged through a single headline number stripped of its economic context.

The real question is whether Ghana is becoming more financially resilient, better able to generate its own foreign exchange, more stable in its currency, less vulnerable to external shocks and better positioned for sustainable growth.

That is the bigger story.

On that journey, the work of the Bank of Ghana matters. The task now is to consolidate the gains, correct the weaknesses and keep moving forward.

The Bank of Ghana deserves a fair hearing and commendation for a programme that generated well over US$13 billion in reserves. The full and honest disclosure by the Bank of Ghana regarding the DGPP also deserves commendation.

By Nelson Cudjoe Kuagbedzi
BSc, MPhil, MBA, GSE, CA, MCIT, ACIB, ACI, MIoD
Finance and Tax Analyst
Cknellynelson@gmail.com

Oftentimes, you hear people say we have so many laws. They suggest that this country is not short of laws, but rather the lack of implementation and enforcement. That suggestion equally greeted the passage of the new Road Traffic Regulations, 2026 (LI 2519). To those who took that position, there was no need to pass a new law. According to them, the previous law, Road Traffic Regulations, 2012 (LI 2180) had sufficient provisions that could deal with our road traffic issues, making it unnecessary to enact a new law. 

For my position, it is better to have laws waiting for changing times than to allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by trends before finding ways to resolve them.

The lack of a legal regime to regulate the commercial use of motorbikes, popularly known as Okada, has brought a rather chaotic use of Okada on our streets. Today, in almost every corner of the country, motorbikes are used for fare-paying services.

For many years, the position of law enforcement has been that no law allows for the commercial use of motorbikes, especially for fare-paying passengers. As a result, we turned a blind eye to the phenomenon even though it was glaring. Commercial motor riders ride through all principal areas of the country. They pass in front of law enforcement officers who turn a blind eye. For those who attempt to check their operations, it has been one means of extortion or the other.

The commercial operation of motorbikes, until the passage of LI 2519, had no clear regulatory provisions in law. Indeed, it was prohibited under our laws and, for that matter, no clear efforts could be made to put the operators to the test.

In 2025, the Road Traffic Act, 2004 (Act 683), was amended to make room for the recognition of the use of motorcycles for commercial purposes. This mother Act provided a broader framework that allows for the regularization of Okada business in Ghana. 

In order to give effect to the general provision in the Act, LI 2519 was passed with specific provisions bearing on qualification, registration and operation of Okada. The entire provisions from Regulations 164 to Regulations 177 are dedicated to the commercial operation of motorcycles, tricycles and quadricycles and their associated offences. 

Let me attempt to look at some key provisions in LI 2519 in this regard.

Regulation 164 prohibits the use of a motorcycle, a tricycle, or a quadricycle for commercial purposes without holding a valid commercial rider’s licence issued by the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority (DVLA). 

Regulation 165 provides for the conditions for the grant of a commercial rider’s licence. The provision requires an applicant for a commercial rider’s licence to be at least 21 years of age, have a valid National Identification Card, prove to be a member of a commercial road transport organization associated with motorcycles, tricycles and quadricycles, and must have passed a medical examination determined by DVLA, a theory and practical test, and an in-traffic test and any other such tests determined by DVLA. 

Regulation 166 makes provisions for renewal of a rider’s licence. A rider’s licence, like a driver’s licence, is expected to be renewed every two years. 

Regulation 167 empowers DVLA to suspend or revoke a commercial rider’s licence where the licence holder is convicted of reckless or dangerous riding, use of a motorcycle, tricycle or quadricycle for an unlawful activity, or fails to renew the licence every two years. 

Regulation 168 deals specifically with the registration of motorcycles, tricycles or quadricycles. It provides that no person shall operate a commercial motorcycle, tricycle or quadricycle without registration with DVLA. Upon application to register a commercial motorcycle, tricycle or quadricycle, the applicant must prove ownership, and evidence that it has met the standards for roadworthiness set by DVLA, and paid the prescribed registration fee.

Regulation 169 and 170 provide for matters related to road certification and issuance of the same for commercial motorcycles, tricycles and quadricycles. 

Regulation 171 provides for safety measures expected of operators of commercial motorcycle, tricycle, and quadricycle. Key among the provisions is to stick within the maximum number of passengers determined by DVLA. 

As noted earlier, LI 2519 requires commercial riders to be members of unions or organizations associated with motorcycles, tricycles, and quadricycles. As a result, Regulation 172 spells out the responsibilities of such unions or organizations. In addition, Regulation 173 also spells out the responsibilities of an owner of a commercial motorcycle, tricycle, or quadricycle. It ensures that the owner’s responsibilities do not end by simply buying any of the equipment and going to sleep.

Specific responsibilities have been provided for riders of commercial motorcycles under Regulation 174 of LI 2519. Key among them is that a rider or a commercial motorcycle shall not ride without a valid licence issued by DVLA; ride without wearing a crash helmet; give a pillion rider (passenger) a ride without making available protective crash helmet; give a child below the age of six a ride, unless the child is seated between the rider and an adult pillion rider, and the child and the adult pillion rider both wearing crash helmet among others. Subregulation (3) of Regulation 174 prohibits a motorcycle from running a red light at a signalled intersection. 

Responsibilities have also been specifically placed on riders of commercial tricycles or quadricycles. These include the need to ensure the display of rear number plates in a visible manner, no parking at undesignated areas, directions on overtaking, as well as prohibition from running red light at traffic signal points. 

A pillion rider (passenger) on a commercial motorcycle has necessarily been given specific responsibilities to conform to while on a commercial ride. The pillion rider is expected to accept to ride as a commercial rider only after wearing a protective crash helmet, among other responsibilities. 

Regulation 177 spells out the related offences to commercial motorcycles, tricycles and quadricycles. 

Having looked at the provisions of the new LI 2519, there is a need to look at the responsibilities of the DVLA in giving effect to the commercial operation of motorcycles, tricycles and quadricycles, which I shall refer to going forward as motorcycle(s). 

The Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority (DVLA) is expected to make distinctions in the current Licence Category A that allows for the riding of motorcycles. There must necessarily be a licence for private motorcycle riders and another for commercial motorcycle riders to make easy for road traffic enforcement.

In addition, the Authority is also expected to provide different licence plates for differentiating between commercial motorcycles and private motorcycles. This will also help in traffic enforcement as it will become easy to separate commercial motorcycles from private ones. 

In order to give meaning to these efforts aimed at regulating the commercial use of motorcycles on our roads, we must first arrest the chaos on the streets. This chaos includes riding for commercial purposes without holding the requisite licence, riding without proper training, riding without helmets, riding without reflective clothes for good visibility, riding without side mirrors, among others.

Going forward, every applicant for a rider’s licence must go through training and examination and only upon passing the required exams is one issued with a commercial rider’s licence. The existing riders who hold licences should be required to remain riders of private motorcycles until proven competent to operate commercially by passing the required examinations. 

At the point of registering a motorcycle for commercial purposes, the motorcycle must have two functioning side mirrors, two crash helmets, at least one reflective item of attire, and must have passed other roadworthy requirements including good tires, functional indicator lights, good shock absorbers, among others. It is only upon passing these basic safety requirements, in addition to other associated regulations spelt out in LI 2519, that one gets a motorcycle registered for commercial operations.  

Stephen Attuh

Director, Corporate Affairs, DVLA

You simply knew: I am still me.

Yet beneath that seemingly simple belief lies one of the deepest questions about human existence: what exactly makes us the same person over time?

Almost everything about us changes. Our bodies change. Our beliefs evolve. Relationships shift. Ambitions change. Memories fade and are reconstructed. Even our personalities can soften, harden or mature through experience.

The person you were at 10 is dramatically different from the person you are today. Yet you still say, “That was me.”

Why?

Identity Is Not About Remaining Unchanged

We often imagine identity as if there must be a permanent part of us that remains untouched while everything else changes.

But perhaps persistence does not require permanence.

A river remains the same river even though its water is constantly changing. A company remains the same company despite changes in its employees, offices, products and leadership. A nation can survive across generations even though none of its original citizens remain alive.

What survives is not necessarily the material itself, but the continuity of the system.

The same may be true of human beings.

You remain yourself not because every part of you has stayed unchanged, but because each version of you remains sufficiently connected to the one that came before it.

Identity, therefore, may be less like an object and more like a chain.

Each link changes, but each inherits something from the previous one.

The Self as a Chain of Inheritance

Consider yesterday’s version of you.

Yesterday, you accumulated experiences, made decisions, formed intentions, created obligations, strengthened some relationships, weakened others, learned lessons and made mistakes.

Then yesterday ended.

Today’s version of you emerged, but it did not begin from zero.

You inherited yesterday’s knowledge, relationships, reputation, commitments, mistakes, opportunities, debts and memories.

In other words, the present self inherits the state of the previous self.

Tomorrow’s self will, in turn, inherit the consequences of what today’s self does.

This creates a simple but powerful structure:

Past You → Present You → Future You

Each version exists only briefly, yet something is transferred between them.

That transfer is continuity.

Identity May Be Continuity, Not Permanence

This suggests another way of understanding personal identity.

A person persists through time not because their state remains unchanged, but because successive versions remain sufficiently connected to inherit memories, consequences, relationships and accumulated experiences.

Identity may therefore exist not entirely within a single moment, but between moments.

The connection matters as much as the state itself.

Perhaps the self is not a thing that simply persists through time. Perhaps the self is the continuity process itself.

The child becomes the teenager. The teenager becomes the adult. The adult becomes the elder.

No single version is identical to another.

Yet the chain remains.

And because that chain remains, we experience a continuous life.

Memory Matters, But It Is Not Everything

Memory appears central to this continuity. If you remember yesterday, the connection between yesterday’s self and today’s self feels obvious.

But memory cannot provide the entire explanation.

We forget enormous portions of our lives. Most people cannot remember ordinary days from 20 years ago. Yet they do not conclude that the person who lived through those days was somebody else.

Even when memory disappears, consequences can remain.

Skills remain. Habits remain. Relationships remain. Reputation remains. Experience can influence judgment even after the specific event that produced the lesson has been forgotten.

This means continuity operates at a deeper level than conscious recollection.

We carry far more of our past than we can remember.

Judgment Is Compressed Experience

One of the most valuable things transferred across time is judgment.

A person who has lived for decades has encountered thousands of situations. Most of those experiences cannot be recalled individually, but their lessons can become compressed into intuition.

You begin to recognise patterns.

You sense danger earlier. You understand people better. You learn which battles are worth fighting. You discover when patience is strength and when it becomes avoidance.

You learn to distinguish opportunity from distraction.

This is accumulated experience converted into judgment.

And judgment is one of the great products of personal continuity.

A life becomes more intelligent when yesterday’s experiences improve today’s decisions.

But this process is not automatic.

Experience can occur without learning. Learning can occur without preservation. Knowledge can be preserved without retrieval, and information can be retrieved without being applied.

For experience to compound into wisdom, continuity must work.

The Real Enemy Is Fragmentation

Perhaps one of the greatest obstacles to growth is not ignorance but fragmentation.

We repeatedly learn lessons and then forget them. We recognise patterns and later fail to retrieve them. We make promises to ourselves that future versions of us abandon.

We develop disciplines and allow them to disappear.

We accumulate wisdom but fail to transfer it deliberately.

The result is that a person can live for 70 years while repeatedly starting over.

Chronological age continues to increase, but judgment does not necessarily compound at the same rate.

Years accumulate automatically. Wisdom does not.

Wisdom requires preservation.

You Are Responsible for Your Future Self

Once we understand the self as a continuity chain, another important idea emerges.

We often think about our responsibilities toward other people — our children, families, employees, communities and future generations.

But there is another person toward whom we have responsibilities:

our future self.

Tomorrow’s you cannot participate in today’s decisions, yet tomorrow’s you must live with them.

Your future self will inherit the health you preserve or neglect, the relationships you nurture or damage, the money you save or spend, the reputation you build or destroy, and the knowledge and habits you choose to develop.

You will also hand forward the problems you solve — and those you choose to postpone.

In this sense, every present self is both an inheritor and a steward.

You inherited a life from your past self. You are modifying it now. Eventually, you will hand it to your future self.

This creates an important ethical principle:

Treat your future self as someone whose life has been entrusted to your stewardship.

The Self Is an Intergenerational Project

We usually reserve the word “inheritance” for transfers between generations.

But inheritance happens every day.

The person who wakes tomorrow inherits the world created by the person who goes to sleep tonight.

Seen this way, a human life resembles an intergenerational civilisation compressed into one biological lifetime.

Many versions of you appear. Each governs briefly. Each inherits accumulated assets and liabilities. Each makes decisions. Each modifies the system and hands it forward.

The quality of a life depends partly on whether these successive selves cooperate.

A disciplined life may be one in which present selves repeatedly sacrifice something so future selves inherit better conditions.

An undisciplined life may be one in which present selves repeatedly consume resources while sending the costs forward.

Suddenly, saving, exercise, education, reputation, patience and self-control reveal a common structure.

They are all forms of continuity investment.

They transfer value through time.

Death Gives Continuity Its Final Test

Eventually, however, the biological chain ends. There is no next version of the physical self.

Does continuity therefore end?

Not necessarily.

By then, parts of the self may already have migrated beyond the individual — into children, institutions, businesses, ideas, relationships, stories, values and written words.

A teacher continues through students.

A parent continues through children.

A founder continues through institutions.

A thinker continues through ideas.

A leader continues through culture.

Biological continuity may end, but causal continuity can continue for generations.

The human desire for legacy may arise from an intuitive recognition of this reality. We know our individual existence is temporary, so we attempt to transfer something beyond ourselves.

The Purpose of a Life May Be Transfer

This changes how we might define a successful life.

Instead of asking only:

What did I achieve?

we might also ask:

What became more capable of continuing because I existed?

Did my children inherit better judgment?

Did my organisation inherit stronger institutions?

Did my community inherit greater capacity?

Did the people around me inherit useful knowledge?

Did my ideas survive me?

Did I leave systems capable of learning from what I learned?

Did the future receive more than the past gave me?

These are continuity questions.

Perhaps they also reveal something profound about human purpose.

We enter life as inheritors.

For a brief period, we become custodians.

Eventually, we become ancestors.

That transition is unavoidable.

The real question is the quality of what we transfer.

You Are a Bridge

So, what makes you the same person you were yesterday?

Perhaps there is no single substance that must remain untouched.

Perhaps identity emerges from sufficient connection across change.

Memory connects you.

Relationships connect you.

Consequences connect you.

Commitments connect you.

Your body connects you.

Your story connects you.

And the accumulated state of your life connects one version of you to another.

You are therefore both remarkably stable and permanently unfinished.

You are an inheritance from someone who no longer exists exactly as they once did — your past self.

At the same time, you are constructing an inheritance for someone who does not yet exist exactly as they eventually will — your future self.

That makes the present moment more than simply “now”.

It is the transfer point between two worlds.

To live is to inherit a self from the past, modify it through present experience, and steward it toward a future self.

Perhaps that is why continuity matters so deeply.

Because beneath memory, identity, responsibility, wisdom and legacy lies the same fundamental architecture:

Something valuable survives change by being successfully transferred through time.

And perhaps the deepest expression of continuity is not found in companies, civilisations or technology.

It is happening quietly within us every day.

We are not merely beings who exist through time.

We are bridges through which the past becomes the future.

The rivers I was appointed to protect are in a worse state today than when I took office. I begin there because no account of that work is worth reading if it begins anywhere else.

Richard Dablah’s essay deserves a serious answer, and I want to give it one. He is right that the young man in the pit is not the beginning of galamsey but its most expendable participant.

He is right that before gold reaches his hands, someone has financed the operation, supplied the machinery, facilitated access to land, arranged the processing, moved the money and, often enough, provided the protection.

He is right that this makes galamsey a network rather than an activity, and that networks are not dismantled by repeatedly arresting their lowest-ranking members.

He is right, above all, about the accounting. Illegal mining transfers value from the future to the present.

The miner takes today’s income, the financier today’s return, and the trader today’s margin, and society inherits tomorrow’s bill in contaminated water, ruined farmland, and lost forest and public health costs that no one has ever priced.

I would add only that the bill is no longer in the future. Ghana had about 8.8 million hectares of primary forest at the turn of the last century, 4.2 million by 1950, and roughly 1.5 million by 1999. We are paying now.

Where I must part company with the essay is on one factual premise that runs beneath the whole argument: that Ghana has never attempted the intelligent version of this fight, and that what is needed is an “ecological intelligence system” satellite imagery, drones, geospatial linkage of licences to forests and rivers, equipment registration, financial intelligence, gold traceability, that the country has yet to imagine.

Ghana imagined it. Ghana built most of it. That it is unknown to a careful writer on the subject is not his failure but the state’s, and I will come to that.

What was built

Between 2017 and 2019 the committee I chaired put in place, with the stakeholder agencies, very nearly the architecture Mr Dablah describes.

Every artisanal and small-scale mining concession in the country was surveyed and mapped using global navigation satellite systems and drone technology so that for the first time the state held a verified baseline of where each licence physically sat on the ground.

Of some five thousand entities written to, one thousand three hundred and fifty appeared, were vetted against their licences, permits, tax identification, and company registration, and were regularised.

They were issued digital identity cards carrying Ghana Post GPS codes and licence validity, and signposts were erected at their concessions declaring ownership and boundaries.

The names were published in the newspapers and on radio. Four thousand miners were trained in sustainable mining and mineral processing at the University of Mines and Technology at Tarkwa, at the state’s expense.

Underneath all of this sat GalamSTOP. It was not, as is still sometimes reported, a task force. It was a software platform: a web application with full geographic information system capability, an Android application with custom GPS for field officers, a reporting dashboard, a data management system, and an online application and payment system.

It managed the entire lifecycle of a mining right from application through licensing and renewal to expiry. Its compliance module tracked payments made and outstanding, royalties, production reports, and contract terms.

It was designed from the outset to integrate the Environmental Protection Agency, the Water Resources Commission, the Forestry Commission, the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority, the Minerals Commission, and the district assemblies onto a single view so that the state could ask, in something close to real time, exactly the questions Mr. Dablah poses: where is the excavation, who holds the licence, whose machine is that, and is this inside a protected area?

We used satellite imagery as a matter of routine. The progressive destruction of the Apaprama and Kobro forest reserves and the diversion of the River Offin were documented in a time series of images running from December 2017 to the middle of 2020.

On the rivers, we stopped burning the engines of dredging platforms; the miners bought new engines within a day, and instead partnered with a trained diving and salvage outfit to tow the entire rigs away to depots far from the water. The miners lost everything. That worked.

What happened to it

The Forestry Commission refused to migrate onto the platform. The Minerals Commission approached it half-heartedly. That is the sentence I would ask readers to sit with, because it explains more about galamsey than any description of a pit.

There is a second sentence of the same kind. On 28 February 2019 Cabinet, having received an update on the committee’s work, directed the Minister for Lands and Natural Resources to suspend the issuance of all new prospecting licences by the Forestry and Minerals Commissions, and to suspend the licences already issued for operations in forty-seven forest reserves, pending environmental impact assessment. The directive was conveyed in writing on 4 March 2019.

It was not carried out. The destruction continued.

A monitoring platform is an instrument of visibility, and an agency that does not wish to be seen will decline to be instrumented.

A written directive from the Cabinet is an instrument of authority, and authority that is not enforced upon those who ignore it is advice.

This is what I would offer Mr Dablah’s argument as its missing variable. Every technology on his list is real, available and useful. None of them fails at the point of capability.

They fail at the point of institutional adoption, at the moment when an agency, a ministry or a well-connected licence holder must consent to be observed, measured and, if necessary, acted against. A design that does not solve for adoption is not a system. It is a wish.

Where he is ahead of us

I do not want to answer a good essay only by claiming precedence, because on three matters he is ahead of what we built, and I should say so plainly.

First, monetisation. Our architecture was strong at the site and nearly silent on how illegal gold becomes legitimate money.

Traceability from mine of origin, due diligence on aggregators and refiners, controls at the point of export, and financial investigation that follows wealth upward rather than stopping at the man in the pit, none of that was built, and much of it lay outside the mandate of the Ministry I held.

He is right that making illegally produced gold difficult to monetise is a more strategic objective than making illegal mining physically difficult.

Second, ecological accounting. We calculate gold production, export earnings and foreign exchange to the last decimal. We have no national account that carries a destroyed watershed as a liability.

Until environmental depletion appears on the national balance sheet as a real economic cost, extraction will go on masquerading as wealth creation. That is his phrase and it is exactly right.

Third, benefit-sharing. We ran alternative livelihood programmes and I still believe in them, but vocational training is not the same thing as a genuine stake in the mineral wealth beneath a community’s own land.

He is right that the supply of recruits is an economic fact before it is a criminal one and that no amount of policing removes an economic fact.

Why this matters now

These are not academic points in 2026. The Ghana Gold Board is currently tendering for a blockchain-based track-and-trace system, intended for deployment by the end of this year, to tie every gram of gold it buys to a verified mine of origin.

L.I. 2462, which permitted mining in forest reserves, has been revoked. Restrictions on excavator importation and the tracking of excavators have been reintroduced the same measures directed in the third quarter of 2018, which were never enforced.

And the Forestry Commission has itself now published a satellite-based assessment finding that 8,923.8 hectares across forty-five forest reserves and a national park had been damaged as at the end of 2024, using precisely the method it declined to adopt when it was offered to it.

I welcome every one of these developments without qualification, and I have no interest in whose administration introduced them. But I have watched this film before, and I know how it ends when the last reel is missing.

A traceability system is only as good as the institutions willing to be bound by it. If licensed operators can wash tainted gold through their own permits for a fee, the register will simply record laundered provenance with greater precision than before. The instrument will be excellent. The outcome will be identical.

A word about the record

Mr Dablah could not have known most of what I have set out here, and that is not his fault. GalamSTOP was never publicly documented in any accessible form. No public account of the committee’s methods was ever published by the state.

What the country knows of that work it knows because a report I wrote in March 2021 for internal purposes found its way into the newspapers two years later, and was then read as a catalogue of accusations rather than as a record of an architecture.

A state that does not publish its own institutional memory should not be surprised when its citizens propose, in good faith, that it build what it has already built and abandoned. If nothing else comes of this exchange, I would like that to change.

The question, restated

Mr Dablah ends by asking how Ghana redesigns a national system in which destroying a river can be profitable, politically survivable, and economically rational. It is the right question, and I would restate it only slightly, in the light of four years spent inside the attempt.

The technology is not the constraint. The law is largely not the constraint. The constraint is whether the institutions charged with enforcement can be made independent enough, and durable enough to act against the people they will inevitably be required to act against including those who appointed them. Everything else follows from that, and nothing works without it.

The river, as he writes, has no political constituency. It cannot finance a campaign, threaten an election, or hire lawyers.

Institutions exist precisely to be the constituency of the things that cannot speak for themselves. That is the whole of their justification. Ours were captured by the things that can.

One such person is Ghanaian businessman and philanthropist Alhaji Seidu Agongo, whose philanthropic activities have, over the years, reflected his belief in supporting people in difficult moments and promoting unity.

His recent gestures of support have once again highlighted his commitment to helping individuals, families and institutions.

Supporting a bereaved family

In one of his recent acts of compassion, Alhaji Agongo donated GH¢50,000 to the wife and children of the late Sanni Jaja, a former Deputy Ambassador to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

The donation was intended to support the bereaved family following their loss and offer them some financial relief during a difficult period.

Beyond the financial assistance, the gesture serves as a reminder to the family that they have people willing to stand by them even after the funeral and in the difficult days that follow.

For many families, the period after the loss of a loved one can be particularly challenging, especially when the deceased was a major source of support. Such interventions can therefore provide meaningful assistance as families begin to adjust to life without their loved one.

Supporting prayers for the President and the nation

In another gesture, Alhaji Agongo donated GH¢5,000 to the National Chief Imam to support special prayers for President John Dramani Mahama, seeking divine wisdom, guidance and strength for the President and prayers for Mallams across the country.

The gesture reflects his belief that national development requires not only economic policies, infrastructure and investment but also wisdom, responsible leadership and spiritual guidance.

By supporting prayers for the President, Alhaji Agongo is also emphasising the importance of seeking the wellbeing of the nation and its leadership beyond political and partisan considerations.

Philanthropy as a responsibility

Alhaji Agongo’s supporters describe his philanthropy as more than simply giving money. They see it as an expression of his belief that individuals and institutions have a responsibility to support one another, particularly during difficult times.

His approach also speaks to the broader role philanthropy can play in society by providing assistance where individuals or families may be vulnerable and strengthening the bonds that hold communities together.

In a society where economic inequality and social challenges continue to affect many people, acts of generosity can provide immediate relief while also inspiring others to contribute to the wellbeing of their communities.

For Alhaji Agongo, therefore, philanthropy appears to be rooted in a simple principle: that humanity thrives when people look beyond themselves and extend a helping hand to others.

His recent gestures to the bereaved family and support for prayers for the country’s leadership provide further examples of that philosophy.

At its core, the message is one of compassion, unity and shared responsibility — values that remain essential to building a more caring and cohesive Ghana.

Ghana will still suffer even if we beg Jesus Christ to be President – Market queen mother

The figures have understandably triggered considerable public debate. However, the conversation should go beyond the headline loss.

The more important question is: What exactly accounted for the $1.7 billion, and what can Ghana do to reduce such losses, if possible?

Gold trading involves several components and associated costs. A proper assessment must therefore examine each component to establish what contributed to the reported losses.

Rather than treating the $1.7 billion figure in isolation, policymakers, economists and stakeholders in the gold industry should break down the numbers and determine whether the losses arose from pricing differences, financing costs, operational expenses, foreign exchange movements, transaction costs or other factors associated with the gold trading programme.

This level of analysis is particularly important because Ghana’s gold sector remains one of the country’s most significant sources of foreign exchange.

The objective should not simply be to establish whether there was a loss. It should be to understand why the loss occurred, whether any portion of it was unavoidable, and what measures can be introduced to prevent a recurrence or significantly reduce the cost.

A transparent and detailed analysis would also help the public distinguish between genuine financial losses and costs that may have been incurred in pursuit of a broader policy objective.

For instance, if part of the reported loss resulted from financing arrangements or a deliberate policy intervention in the gold market, that should be clearly explained. Equally, if there were inefficiencies, poor pricing decisions or avoidable transaction costs, those issues must be identified and addressed.

Ghana cannot afford to have a debate about billions of cedis or dollars without understanding the underlying numbers.

Ultimately, the conversation should move beyond “Ghana lost $1.7 billion” to a more constructive question:

What made up the $1.7 billion, and how can Ghana improve the economics of its gold trade?

That, in my view, is the debate worth having.

The Funeral Is Not the Problem, Our Priorities Might Be

There are few occasions in African communal life as emotionally powerful as a funeral. When death visits, families gather from considerable distances, friends contribute without being asked, and communities organise with a discipline that would impress any project manager. Food is prepared, chairs appear in their hundreds, and grief is transformed into collective remembrance. African funerals rightly remind us that no human being should disappear as though they never mattered.

The argument here is not against funerals. It is against an uncomfortable contradiction, captured in a NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) reflection: in many African homes, there is always money for funerals but too little for fruit and vegetables. The line is deliberately provocative, since healthy food can genuinely be unaffordable or inaccessible, and the World Health Organisation estimates that around three billion people globally cannot access safe, nutritious and sufficient food. But beneath the exaggeration sits a serious question. Why are human beings sometimes better at mobilising resources after preventable illness and death than before them? As NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) puts it, there is dignity in honouring the dead, but perhaps even greater wisdom in investing early enough to postpone the funeral. That is not disrespect. It is simply love translated into prevention.

The Statistics Are Already Knocking

Africa is undergoing a profound health transition. In the year two thousand, noncommunicable diseases such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, diabetes and chronic respiratory illness accounted for roughly a quarter of deaths across the World Health Organisation’s African Region. By 2019, that figure had climbed to thirty-seven per cent. In Ghana, the warning is more immediate still, with the World Health Organisation reporting in 2025 that noncommunicable diseases are now responsible for nearly half of all deaths in the country. These are not abstract numbers. They are fathers, mothers, teachers, traders and executives, increasingly dying earlier than they should. Globally, noncommunicable diseases now account for nearly three quarters of all deaths, with low- and middle-income countries bearing a disproportionate share of that burden.

Diet is only one part of this picture, alongside genetics, tobacco, alcohol, air pollution and inactivity, yet it remains a significant and modifiable risk factor. The World Health Organisation recommends that adults and children over ten consume at least four hundred grams of fruit and vegetables daily, and has estimated that inadequate fruit and vegetable consumption was associated with roughly three point nine million deaths worldwide in 2017. Suddenly, the fruit bowl looks considerably less decorative than we once assumed.

We Have Become Experts at Responding After the Fact

Perhaps our deeper challenge is that we are often more responsive than preventive. Someone becomes seriously ill, and money is mobilised within hours. A hospital bill arrives, and family WhatsApp groups awaken with impressive efficiency, reuniting relatives who have not spoken since the last family disagreement. Then, tragically, if treatment fails, another round of mobilisation begins, this time for the funeral. There is a certain gentle humour in our capacity to assemble ourselves magnificently only once circumstances have become irreversible, and the family meeting that could never agree on funding an annual medical screening can become astonishingly united when choosing funeral cloth. One may smile at that. One should then become rather quiet.

As NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) reminds us, we should not become so organised around mourning that we remain disorganised around prevention. This pattern is not uniquely African. Human beings everywhere discount distant risks and react more strongly to immediate events, and prevention is psychologically difficult precisely because its greatest success is something that never happens. Nobody throws a party because hypertension was detected early, and no newspaper announces that a daily walk quietly added years to somebody’s life. Prevention, in this sense, suffers from its own success. It is invisible.

Poverty Cannot Be Lectured Away

It would be profoundly unfair, however, to tell a low-income household to buy more vegetables while ignoring the economics surrounding food. Healthy eating is not merely a matter of personal discipline, and the World Health Organisation recognises that nutritious diets can be inaccessible, particularly in food-insecure communities. Rapid urbanisation, alongside the aggressive marketing of highly processed foods, has shifted diets towards products heavy in salt, sugar and unhealthy fats. The mother choosing inexpensive, calorie-dense food to feed several children is therefore not necessarily uninformed. She may instead be making a rational economic decision within a system that has made the unhealthy plate cheaper than the healthy one.

This changes the policy conversation considerably. If African governments want healthier citizens, they must help build healthier food systems, since agriculture cannot be separated from healthcare, and school feeding cannot be separated from long-term public health. What we grow, process, transport, advertise and sell forms one enormous health supply chain. As NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) cautions, we should not lecture the household about the healthy plate while designing an economy that makes the unhealthy plate cheaper. Individual responsibility must meet institutional responsibility somewhere in the middle, and at present, it rarely does.

A Continent That Grows Food Should Not Struggle to Eat Well

Here lies another contradiction. Africa possesses considerable agricultural potential, from Ghana’s pineapples, tomatoes and leafy vegetables to the substantial agricultural capability found across Côte d’Ivoire, Kenya, Ethiopia and South Africa. Yet post-harvest losses, inadequate cold chains and fragmented logistics routinely make nutritious food unnecessarily expensive or altogether unavailable. This is not merely an agricultural failure. It is a public health failure wearing an agricultural disguise.

Imagine treating investment in cold storage as preventive healthcare, or municipalities deliberately protecting fresh food markets the way they protect hospitals. Imagine schools teaching children to grow vegetables alongside mathematics, and agricultural policy measuring not only tonnes produced but whether citizens can actually afford a nutritious diet. Japan has long embedded diet and health awareness into everyday culture, and Nordic countries use school meals as public health policy. Africa need not copy either, but we might usefully borrow the underlying principle that health is produced long before anybody enters a hospital.

The Home Is the First Ministry of Health

Government cannot do everything, and the most consequential public health institution may in fact be the household. Children learn at home what to eat, whether water or sugary drinks are normal, and whether physical activity is naturally part of life. The World Health Organisation notes that dietary behaviours established during childhood frequently continue into adulthood, which should change how parents view the family table. A child who grows up seeing fruit as ordinary rather than occasional is receiving preventive healthcare without ever knowing it.

As NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) observes, the home is the first hospital, the kitchen its first pharmacy, and daily habits often write prescriptions years before any doctor does. This is not a claim that food replaces medicine, for it plainly does not. Instead, it is a reminder that lifestyle is itself a part of health, quietly accumulating for decades before any diagnosis names it.

What If We Invested in Life as Generously as We Invest in Farewell

Picture a modest cultural shift, not towards smaller love for the dead, but towards greater investment in the living. Family associations that already mobilise magnificently during funerals could just as easily encourage annual health screening. Churches, mosques, traditional authorities and community organisations could make prevention part of their social responsibility, while employers strengthen workplace wellness and schools normalise nutrition literacy. Governments can use regulation, labelling and carefully designed fiscal measures to make the healthier choice the easier one, tools the World Health Organisation itself recommends. Agricultural policy should encourage diversified, nutritious local production, and health systems must expand early detection of hypertension, diabetes and related risks. Households with the means might reasonably consider preventive health expenditure as seriously as they already consider ceremony. The objective is not immortality, since every life ends. The objective is simply avoiding the deaths that arrive unnecessarily early.

What Is Wrong With Us?

Perhaps the answer lies partly in what we make visible. Funerals are public, while prevention is private. A magnificent funeral is seen by hundreds, while a plate of vegetables receives no applause whatsoever. A beautiful coffin is visible, while controlled blood pressure is not; a convoy attracts attention in a way that twenty years of quietly added healthier choices never could. We may simply have confused visibility with value. This is not an argument for abandoning tradition, for African societies should rightly preserve the solidarity and dignity that surround death. It is an invitation to transfer some of that same extraordinary solidarity towards life: checking on relatives before they become patients, and contributing to screening before contributing to hospital bills. Consider celebrating a seventy-fifth birthday with even greater enthusiasm than the funeral that might otherwise have arrived at fifty-five. That would be cultural progress without any cultural abandonment.

As NyansaKasa (words of wisdom) reflects, tradition becomes stronger, not weaker, when wisdom allows it to protect tomorrow as beautifully as it honours yesterday. Healthcare does not begin when illness arrives. It begins with food systems, education, sanitation, screening and household choices made quietly, years in advance. Africa cannot hospitalise its way out of every preventable disease, and no family should have to mourn what earlier intervention might have delayed or prevented. So let us honour our dead, gather, remember, and comfort families as we always have. But while we are together, perhaps we might also ask whether the greatest tribute to those who have gone is helping those still here to live rather longer. The funeral will eventually come for every one of us. There is no need, out of habit or neglect, to send it an early invitation.

About the Author

Ing. Professor Douglas K. Boateng is a strategist in governance, industrialisation and supply chains, and serves as a professional chairperson, an international Chartered Director (UK) and a Chartered Engineer (UK). A Pan-Africanist and social entrepreneur at heart, he has spent his career working across public institutions, corporate boards and industrial policy, in Africa and beyond, guided by the conviction that strong institutions are built one honest decision at a time. His contributions to industry and academia have earned him more than six lifetime achievement awards throughout his career. He is the founder of NyansaKasa, Words of Wisdom, a collection of daily aphorisms he has written and shared since late 2019, distilling decades of experience advising governments, boards, and enterprises on governance, accountability, and institutional resilience into words meant to challenge and endure. He convenes the Boardroom Governance Summit, Africa’s largest boardroom-focused summit, and writes a widely read op-ed series titled “Inconvenient Truth” and “What Is Wrong With Us,” featured on some of the region’s leading digital media platforms. Professor Boateng can be reached via LinkedIn or at info@panavest.com.

The latest confrontation between the Minority Leader in Parliament, Alexander Kwamena Afenyo-Markin, and the Chief Executive Officer of the Ghana Gold Board (GoldBod), Sammy Gyamfi, has reached precisely that moment.

This is no longer merely another episode in Ghana’s increasingly aggressive political discourse.

It has moved beyond arguments over the economy, GoldBod, the Bank of Ghana or the reported US$1.7 billion losses associated with the Domestic Gold Purchase Programme.

It has become a question of reputation, public trust and the dignity of high political office.

Sammy Gyamfi has described Afenyo Markin as an “extortionist” and has challenged him to sue if he believes the allegation is false.

He has gone further, suggesting that the Minority Leader’s failure to sue amounts to an inability to refute the accusation.

That challenge should not be ignored. Afenyo Markin must either take the matter to court and demand that Sammy Gyamfi prove the allegation, or seriously consider whether he can continue occupying the office of Minority Leader while allowing such a grave allegation to hang over his head.

This is not about political pride. It is about the office. The Minority Leader is not just another politician.

Alexander Afenyo Markin is currently the Minority Leader of Ghana’s Ninth Parliament and Member of Parliament for Effutu.

The Minority Leader is one of the most consequential parliamentary offices in the Republic.

He is the principal political voice of the opposition in Parliament.

He leads the parliamentary force whose constitutional and democratic responsibility includes scrutinizing government, challenging executive decisions and demanding accountability.

That office therefore carries a reputation larger than the individual who occupies it. When the person sitting in that chair is publicly labelled an “extortionist”, the appropriate response cannot simply be another press conference, another radio interview or another political insult.

There must be clarity. If the allegation is false, prove it false. If it is true, the Ghanaian public deserves to know the truth.

And if it cannot be established either way, then the proper place to settle the matter is not the microphone. It is the court. This is where Afenyo Markin must draw the line
Sammy Gyamfi has not merely criticized Afenyo Markin’s politics. Political criticism is normal.

A politician can be called incompetent, arrogant, ineffective, hypocritical or even politically misguided.

Those are harsh political judgments, and politicians must develop thick skins.

But “extortionist” carries a different weight. It suggests conduct involving the improper extraction of money or benefit through pressure or coercion.

That is a serious accusation against anyone.
It becomes even more serious when directed at the Minority Leader of the Parliament of Ghana.

Mr Gyamfi has publicly challenged Afenyo Markin to sue him and substantiate the allegation.

So what exactly is stopping the Minority Leader? If Afenyo Markin believes the allegation is defamatory and completely without foundation, he should instruct his lawyers to act.

Not tomorrow. Not after another round of political interviews. Act.
Let Sammy Gyamfi enter court and prove that Afenyo Markin is an extortionist.

Let the evidence speak.
Let the documents speak. Let the witnesses speak. Let the law speak.

That would be far more powerful than ten political rallies and a hundred angry interviews. Parliament deserves better than political mudslinging.

There is another dimension to this matter that should concern every Ghanaian.
The fight began around allegations concerning GoldBod and losses reportedly exceeding US$1.7 billion under the Domestic Gold Purchase Programme.

The IMF has indeed reported losses exceeding US$1.7 billion in connection with the programme.
However, that does not automatically establish that GoldBod alone caused the entire loss.

The institutional responsibilities and transaction structures require proper examination.
GoldBod, for its part, has pointed to its audited 2025 accounts and says the institution recorded an operational surplus of about GH¢907 million and an overall surplus of about GH¢5.4 billion.

The Information Services Department has also reported GoldBod’s position that the Auditor-General’s audit found no adverse findings against the institution.

These are legitimate issues for public debate. The Minority has every right to ask questions. GoldBod has every right to defend its record.

Its CEO has every right to challenge allegations against the institution.
But there is a line between robust accountability and personal accusation.

Once that line is crossed, the person accused must decide whether to allow the accusation to define him or to confront it decisively.

Afenyo Markin cannot demand accountability from government while avoiding accountability for himself. This is the uncomfortable part.
Afenyo Markin has built much of his political identity around holding government accountable.

He has repeatedly insisted that the Minority will scrutinise government policies and programmes and “hold the Government’s feet to the fire.”
That principle must apply to everyone, including himself.

The standard cannot be: “Government must answer difficult questions, but I don’t have to answer difficult allegations.” That would be politically convenient but morally inconsistent.
If the Minority Leader believes GoldBod has mishandled public resources, he must demand evidence and accountability.

If GoldBod’s CEO believes the Minority Leader is an extortionist, then he too must be prepared to provide evidence.

Nobody should be protected because of political affiliation. Nobody should be condemned because of political affiliation. That is how a democracy works.

Afenyo-Markin is not a private citizen engaging in an argument at a drinking spot. He is the Minority Leader of Parliament.

The GoldBod CEO is not merely a private commentator either. GoldBod describes itself as Ghana’s legally authourised body responsible for licensing and undertaking the purchase, assay, refining and export of gold and other precious minerals.

Both men therefore occupy positions that require discipline.

The country is watching.And Ghana does not need its most senior political actors turning public institutions into arenas for personal warfare.

The Minority Leader’s office was previously occupied by figures such as J.H. Mensah, Papa Owusu-Ankomah and Osei Kyei-Mensah-Bonsu. Whether one agrees with their politics or not, the office carried considerable institutional weight.

That reputation must be protected.
Indeed, Sammy Gyamfi himself has invoked the reputations of former Minority Leaders while attacking Afenyo-Markin.

But that should make the present occupant even more determined to defend the integrity of the office.
So, Afenyo-Markin, take the challenge. This is where political calculations should end.

Afenyo Markin should not merely respond that he has been insulted. He should not spend another week trading accusations with the GoldBod CEO.

He should not allow the matter to disappear beneath the next political controversy.
He has two options.

Sue. Or, if he believes he cannot or will not take legal action to clear his name, then he should seriously consider whether remaining Minority Leader under the shadow of such an allegation is sustainable.

Because the Ghanaian public cannot have it both ways.
You cannot occupy one of the highest political offices in the country, accuse others of wrongdoing and demand accountability from public institutions while allowing a serious allegation against your own character to remain unresolved.

The Minority Leader must understand that the battle is no longer simply Afenyo-Markin versus Sammy Gyamfi.

It is about whether public office in Ghana still carries standards. And the NPP must also grow a spine.

The New Patriotic Party cannot simply defend its Minority Leader through press statements and social media posts.

If Afenyo Markin believes the allegation is false, the party should encourage him to clear his name through the appropriate legal process.

And if he refuses to sue, the NPP must ask a difficult question: Can someone credibly lead the parliamentary opposition while carrying an unresolved allegation of extortion against him?

The party should not turn this into another partisan shouting match. It should make the issue about institutional credibility.

If Afenyo Markin sues, the NPP should stand behind due process and allow the courts to determine the matter.

If he refuses to sue and cannot provide a convincing public explanation for his decision, then the NPP must have the courage to consider whether another person should lead its parliamentary caucus.

That would not be an admission of guilt. It would be an acknowledgement that the reputation of the office is bigger than the reputation of the individual. And Sammy Gyamfi must also understand the burden of his office.

This argument cannot be one-sided. The GoldBod CEO has every right to defend the institution he leads.

But occupying the CEO’s chair also comes with responsibilities. GoldBod itself presents its mission as transforming Ghana’s gold industry, strengthening national value retention and building a world-class trading organisation.
That requires credibility.

When the CEO of such a strategically important national institution makes a serious allegation against the Minority Leader, he should be prepared to defend that allegation with the same confidence with which he made it.

If he has evidence, produce it. If he has documents, let them be examined. If he has facts, let the court test them.

That is how mature democracies operate. Ghana needs less political theatre and more consequences.
For too long, Ghanaian politics has developed an unfortunate habit. Politicians make explosive allegations on television.

Public officials respond with insults. Supporters flood social media. The matter trends for three days. Then everyone moves on. The allegation remains. The reputation remains damaged. And nobody is held responsible.
We cannot continue like this.

If an allegation is serious enough to make publicly, it should be serious enough to defend legally. If an accusation is false, the victim should have the courage to challenge it.
If it is true, the person making it should have the courage to prove it. That is the standard Ghana deserves.

So, Alexander Afenyo-Markin, this is your moment. Do not defend the title of Minority Leader with speeches. Defend the integrity of the office with action.

Sue Sammy Gyamfi and make him prove that you are an extortionist. And if you will not, then perhaps the NPP must ask whether you should continue occupying the office.

Because at this level of public leadership, silence is not neutrality. Sometimes, silence becomes an unanswered question.

And the Minority Leader of Ghana’s Parliament should not allow an accusation of this magnitude to become his unanswered question.

Clear your name. Clear the office. Or clear the way.

The incident happened during the Graduate Management Accelerated Programme graduation ceremony organised by UBA, where a young lady addressed the businessman by his first name.

“Good morning, Tony,” she said.

Mr Elumelu, who appeared surprised by the address, initially responded, “Toyin? Toyin?”

After she clarified that she had said “Tony”, he quickly corrected her.

“Okay. No, you won’t call me Tony. You’ll call me Mr Elumelu or TOE. You won’t call me Tony, or Chairman. I don’t subscribe to that kind of Oyinbo life, okay?” he said.

The young woman immediately corrected herself.

“Good morning, Mr Elumelu,” she said before continuing with her question.

The short exchange has since gone viral, with social media users divided over whether the young woman was being disrespectful or simply following the more informal corporate culture that has become common in many workplaces.

But is calling an elder by their first name disrespectful?

For many Africans, especially those raised in traditional homes, the answer may seem obvious.

Growing up, many of us were taught that respect is not only shown through our actions but also through the way we address people.

If someone is older than you and you do not know their name, you are likely to hear, “Auntie” or “Uncle” before you even get to know them properly.

And when the person holds a position, the title often comes with the territory.

You say “Mr”, “Madam”, “Doctor”, “Professor”, “Chief”, “Chairman” or whatever title the person is known by.

It is simply how many of us were brought up.

So, when someone who is much older or holds a senior position tells you, “Don’t call me by my first name,” many Africans may not see it as a big deal.

You simply adjust and move on.

Then comes Gen Z and the ‘first-name basis’ culture

But things are changing.

In many modern workplaces, especially multinational companies and corporate organisations, employees are encouraged to communicate more casually.

The CEO can be “John”.

The manager can be “Ama”.

The boss can even tell you, “Please, just call me by my name.”

And that does not necessarily mean there is no respect.

It simply means that is the culture the organisation has adopted.

That may explain why some people believe the young woman may not necessarily have intended to disrespect Mr Elumelu.

She could simply have been operating within the increasingly common corporate culture where senior executives and younger employees interact on a first-name basis.

‘Not everyone subscribes to that Oyinbo life’

But Mr Elumelu’s response has also reminded many people that not everyone subscribes to that style of interaction.

For some people, titles are important.

And there is nothing wrong with that.

A person may have spent years building a career, earning a professional title or rising through an organisation, and may genuinely appreciate being addressed by that title.

Take academia, for example.

For some professors, being addressed as “Professor” is not just about showing off a title.

It represents years of study, research, sacrifice and hard work.

So forgetting or refusing to use the title may feel disrespectful to them.

The same applies to traditional leaders, religious leaders, senior professionals and others who place importance on how they are addressed.

But does first name automatically mean disrespect?

Not necessarily.

That is where the conversation gets interesting.

Calling someone by their first name can be disrespectful in one setting and completely normal in another.

It depends on the person, the relationship and, importantly, the culture of the environment.

In some workplaces, calling the CEO by his first name is completely acceptable.

In others, you may be expected to say “Mr CEO”, “Sir” or use the person’s professional title.

For instance, some employees may call their CEO by his first name every day, and the CEO may respond happily.

That does not mean the employees have no respect for him.

It simply means that is the relationship and workplace culture they have agreed to.

But take that same CEO to a formal traditional or corporate event, and the way you address him may need to change.

Know the room

Perhaps that is the biggest lesson from the Tony Elumelu moment.

Know the room.

Know the person.

Know the occasion.

And, most importantly, know how that person wants to be addressed.

If someone tells you, “Please don’t call me by my first name. Call me Mr Elumelu,” there is really no need to argue.

Just say, “Mr Elumelu,” and continue.

After all, respect is not about winning an argument over a name.

What social media users are saying

The incident has generated plenty of reactions online, with some users siding with Mr Elumelu and others defending the young woman.

One social media user argued that the issue was less about Mr Elumelu being a billionaire and more about understanding the setting.

The user said addressing someone formally at an event where they are acting in their official capacity is different from having a casual conversation with someone you know personally.

Another user argued that even in Western societies, where first-name interactions are common, people still understand when a formal title is appropriate.

But others came to the young woman’s defence, pointing out that modern corporate culture often encourages employees to address senior executives by their first names.

One user noted that many corporate organisations deliberately create an informal environment where titles are played down to make employees feel more comfortable around senior management.

And that is probably why this particular exchange has struck a nerve.

It is not simply about Tony versus Mr Elumelu.

It is about two different ideas of respect meeting in one room.

One side says: “Respect your elders and their titles.”

The other says: “Respect does not always have to come with a title.”

Both arguments have their place.

A clash of cultures?

Perhaps Mr Elumelu was right.

Perhaps the young lady was also simply following what she has been taught in the corporate world.

Maybe neither side was entirely wrong.

African culture has traditionally placed a strong emphasis on age, hierarchy and titles, while modern corporate culture is increasingly moving towards informality and first-name relationships.

And as Gen Z enters the workplace, these two worlds are bound to collide from time to time.

So, before you confidently walk into a formal event and say, “Good morning, Tony!”, perhaps take a second to read the room.

Because as Mr Elumelu has reminded us:

Not everybody subscribes to that Oyinbo life.

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Deputy Education Minister slams BOGISS authorities over handling of assault case

Across the world, young people are more connected than any generation before them. A smartphone can bridge continents in seconds, friendships can begin with a single click, and conversations never truly have to end. Yet beneath this digital convenience lies a silent crisis that few are willing to confront: an epidemic of loneliness.

For many young people, social media has become a place where lives are carefully curated rather than honestly lived. Every success is posted, every vacation is documented, and every achievement is celebrated. What is rarely shown are the sleepless nights, financial struggles, heartbreaks, and moments of self-doubt.

As a result, countless young people compare their behind-the-scenes reality with someone else’s highlight reel, leaving them feeling inadequate and isolated.

Loneliness is no longer limited to people who live alone. Students surrounded by classmates, employees working in busy offices, and even influencers with millions of followers can feel emotionally disconnected. The number of people around us does not always determine the quality of our relationships.

In many societies, particularly across Africa, conversations about loneliness are often dismissed. Young people are told to “be strong” or “pray about it.” While faith and resilience are valuable, emotional struggles deserve more than clichés. They deserve understanding, compassion, and practical support.

Technology itself is not the enemy. It has transformed education, business, healthcare, and communication. The problem begins when digital interaction replaces genuine human connection.

Sending a heart emoji is not the same as asking someone how they are truly coping. Hundreds of online followers cannot replace one trusted friend who listens without judgment.

Universities and schools also have a role to play. Academic success should not come at the expense of students’ emotional well-being. Institutions should encourage mentorship, peer-support groups, and accessible counselling services that help students navigate the pressures of modern life.

Emotional well-being should become part of everyday conversations rather than an emergency topic discussed only after tragedy strikes.

Families, too, must rethink what support looks like. Providing food, shelter, and education is essential, but emotional availability is equally important. Sometimes, the most powerful gift a parent or guardian can offer is undivided attention.

Young people also have a responsibility to nurture meaningful relationships. Real friendships require time, honesty, and vulnerability. They cannot be measured by likes, comments, or follower counts.

Reaching out to a friend, checking on a classmate, or simply putting the phone away during conversations can rebuild connections that technology sometimes weakens.

Loneliness is not a sign of weakness. It is a human experience that can affect anyone regardless of age, status, or popularity. Recognising it is the first step toward overcoming it.

As societies race to become smarter and more digital, we must not forget what makes us human. Progress should not only be measured by faster internet speeds or more advanced technology, but also by stronger communities, healthier relationships, and people who know they are seen, heard, and valued.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of our generation is not learning how to connect to the internet. It is learning how to reconnect with one another.

Ghanaian banks are lending again, but where that money goes could determine whether the 24-Hour Economy delivers genuine industrial transformation or merely fuels another cycle of consumption and imports.

Total bank advances rose by 38.6% to GH¢124.3 billion in June 2026, from GH¢89.7 billion a year earlier, while private-sector credit expanded by 41.2%.

Yet the structure of lending raises concerns. The productive sectors expected to drive the 24-Hour Economy continue to receive relatively modest shares of private-sector credit.

At the end of 2025, manufacturing received about GH¢11.8 billion, representing 11.1% of outstanding private-sector credit, while agriculture, forestry and fisheries received just GH¢4.8 billion, or 4.5%. Commerce and finance accounted for approximately GH¢17.6 billion, while the broader services sector received about GH¢39.5 billion.

This allocation matters even more as falling interest rates reshape where banks deploy their funds.

The average lending rate declined from 27% in June 2025 to 15.64% in June 2026, while the 91-day Treasury bill rate fell from 14.74% to 5.27%.

With government securities offering significantly lower returns, banks now have a stronger incentive to seek alternative earning assets.

The concern is that capital could increasingly flow into consumer loans, personal credit and short-term commercial financing, while farms, factories, processors and exporters continue to struggle to secure appropriately structured capital.

Ghana could therefore achieve macroeconomic stability without achieving the productive transformation needed to sustain it.

The financing mismatch

A factory operating additional shifts needs more than workers. It requires raw materials, working capital, machinery, energy, packaging, inventory, logistics and distribution finance.

The financing requirement extends across the entire value chain.

Farmers need capital before planting. Plantations may require years of patient financing before maturity. Aggregators need procurement finance. Manufacturers need equipment and working capital, while exporters require funding between production and payment by foreign buyers.

Much of this cannot be adequately financed with short-term credit designed primarily for commercial transactions.

The issue, therefore, is not simply whether credit is available. It is whether Ghana’s financial architecture can match the tenor, risk profile and cash-flow cycles of productive investment.

That is where the Bank of Ghana can play a catalytic role without becoming a direct lender.

BoG should facilitate, not lend

The Bank of Ghana does not need to become the government’s industrial bank or dictate which companies commercial banks should finance.

Its role should be to facilitate a regulatory and prudential environment that allows productive-sector financing to expand without compromising financial stability.

One option is to establish a dedicated Productive Sector and Value-Chain Finance Facilitation Unit that works with banks, development finance institutions, manufacturers, agribusinesses, exporters, insurers and pension funds.

Its focus could include long-term industrial credit, agricultural and biological-asset finance, equipment leasing, warehouse and receivables finance, purchase-order financing, export credit, guarantees and offtake-backed lending.

This would not require weaker lending standards. It would require better ways of assessing productive businesses.

Credit assessment should not depend overwhelmingly on land and buildings when viable businesses also possess machinery, receivables, purchase orders, supply contracts, export contracts and credible offtake agreements that can support repayment.

Ghana needs to move gradually from collateral banking to value-chain banking.

A specialised industrial bank

Where commercial banks cannot sufficiently adapt their funding structures, risk models and lending tenors, Ghana should also consider facilitating a specialised Value Chain Industries Bank.

Such an institution need not be wholly state-owned. Private investors, financial institutions, pension funds, industry associations, development partners and government could participate, with a mandate focused on financing productive value chains from agriculture and raw materials through processing, manufacturing and exports.

Commercial banks could participate through co-lending, guarantees and syndication, while the Bank of Ghana maintains regulatory oversight.

The two approaches are not mutually exclusive.

A BoG facilitation structure could address regulatory and financing constraints across the banking system, while a specialised institution could provide the patient, appropriately structured capital that conventional commercial banking may struggle to supply.

Credit must finance production

Consumer credit itself is not the problem.

The problem arises when credit expands domestic demand without a corresponding increase in domestic production.

If banks increasingly finance imported vehicles, appliances, electronics, furniture and other goods while local producers struggle for working capital, domestic finance risks supporting production abroad while increasing foreign-exchange demand at home.

That is precisely the imbalance Ghana’s economic reset should avoid.

Ghana has worked hard to bring down inflation, interest rates and Treasury yields. Those gains must now create the conditions for investment, production, employment and exports.

The challenge is to ensure that the rapid expansion in private-sector credit translates into productive investment rather than simply higher consumption and short-term commercial activity.

If more of this expanding credit reaches farms, factories, machinery, processing and exports, the banking system can become a powerful engine of the 24-Hour Economy.

But if productive businesses remain starved of suitable capital while finance gravitates towards consumption and short-term commerce, Ghana risks restoring macroeconomic stability without transforming the structure of its economy.

Government can create the policy environment. Industry can provide the productive capacity. Finance must provide the bridge between the two.

You cannot build a 24-Hour Economy with an eight-hour financing mindset.

Without a deliberate shift towards financing production, the existing banking model could draw a dagger through the 24-Hour Economy before the gains of Ghana’s economic reset reach the factory floor.

The Malaria Atlas Project has estimated that malaria control efforts have helped prevent more than 1.22 billion cases and 3.5 million deaths across Africa since 2000. Its analysis found that insecticide-treated nets (ITNs) were the biggest contributor to this progress, accounting for 72percent of the cases prevented. This is significant progress. Malaria prevention tools, including ITNs and other vector-control interventions, have helped protect millions of people. New tools, including dual-active ITNs and malaria vaccines, are further expanding the ways we can protect communities.

However, we cannot take their effectiveness for granted. ITNs only work if mosquitoes continue to respond to the insecticides used within them.

Mosquitoes evolve quickly. They develop resistance to insecticides and change their behaviour. These changes influence how well malaria prevention tools perform. Continued monitoring and research is essential to stay ahead of the mosquito, ensuring existing and next-generation ITNs perform as mosquito populations evolve.

What most people never see is the science that sits behind an ITN. Before a mosquito net reaches a family, it has undergone years of research, rigorous testing, and quality assurance.

At the Vestergaard–Noguchi Vector Labs (VNVL) in Ghana, my colleagues and I work with mosquito populations with different insecticide-resistance characteristics. We maintain and carefully monitor the mosquito colonies and use them to conduct standardized laboratory testing of Vestergaard ITNs, including PermaNet Dual, a latest generation ITN. This work supports quality assurance and product development by generating reliable evidence on how our nets perform against the mosquito populations they are designed to target. Most of this work happens far from public view, yet it plays an important role in ensuring that our ITNs perform as expected.

This year we will mark 15 years of partnership between Vestergaard and the Noguchi Memorial Institute for Medical Research, that has helped to build and sustain technical capacity for high-quality entomological testing in Ghana. Alongside laboratory infrastructure, the collaboration has supported the development of specialized expertise in mosquito rearing, laboratory testing of ITNs and insecticide resistance monitoring.

Last year, this commitment was reinforced through a Memorandum of Understanding between Vestergaard, Noguchi Memorial Institute for Medical Research and the Ghana National Malaria Elimination Program, further strengthening public-private partnerships towards Ghana’s Malaria elimination target.  

Every mosquito we study and every net we evaluate serves a purpose beyond the laboratory: helping ensure that the products people rely on continue to perform as intended. On World Mosquito Day, I am reminded that the fight against malaria is an all-hands-on-deck situation, and my hands are contributing. Yet more is required, for it is not only about the tools we use, but also protecting people from a disease that synchronizes well in evolution and continues to threaten millions of lives. The better we understand the mosquito and how it changes, the more equipped we are to protect the communities most at risk.

While supporting tougher controls on unsafe, flood damaged and structurally compromised vehicles, IMANI says the blanket restriction under GS 4510:2022 raises legal, economic and consumer concerns.

Its central question is simple: if a 16 year old vehicle is roadworthy, properly maintained and emissions compliant, why should it be rejected while a younger but poorly maintained vehicle may still qualify?

IMANI also warns of possible effects on dealers, mechanics, clearing agents, consumers, Customs revenue and vehicle affordability.

The argument is not against regulation. It is for regulation that distinguishes danger from age, safety from convenience and industrial policy from affordability.

Below is the full article:

GSA’S BLANKET BAN ON 15 YEAR OLD VEHICLES — KAY CODJOE WRITES

Should Age Outweigh Roadworthiness in Vehicle Regulation? Are We Regulating Danger or Birthdays?

Ghana has every right to stop dangerous vehicles at its borders. A flooded car dressed in fresh paint does not become safe because somebody polished the dashboard. A wreck reconstructed for resale does not acquire structural integrity because Customs stamped its papers.

On that principle, the Ghana Standards Authority deserves support.

But that is precisely where the real argument begins.

The central question is not whether Ghana should regulate dangerous vehicles. It should. The question is whether age should outweigh roadworthiness in deciding which vehicles may enter the country.

From October 1, Ghana proposes to prevent the importation of used vehicles older than fifteen years under the GS 4510:2022 conformity regime. That means a vehicle may be mechanically sound, structurally intact, properly maintained and emissions compliant, yet still fail at the border because of its birthday.

Before we applaud, government must answer a fundamental question:

Are we regulating danger or regulating birthdays?

The Customs (Amendment) Act, 2020, Act 1014, already addressed age restrictions. Section 154(3) provides that the Finance Minister, in consultation with the Trade Minister, may by Legislative Instrument specify when vehicles over ten years shall no longer be imported.

That is Parliament speaking.

Today we are hearing fifteen years.

Fine. Fifteen may even be economically more realistic than ten. But administrative convenience cannot perform plastic surgery on an Act of Parliament. Produce the Legislative Instrument. Identify the statutory bridge between Parliament’s ten year architecture and GSA’s fifteen year rule.

A press conference is not subsidiary legislation.

Neither is a PowerPoint presentation wearing a government logo.

This is precisely why concerns from the Vehicle and Assets Dealers Union of Ghana deserve serious attention rather than dismissal as traders protecting their pockets. Its President General, Bernard Ntrakwah, supports GSA’s intervention to sanitise the industry and keep dangerous vehicles out. His objection is to the blanket fifteen year exclusion and its consequences for dealers, consumers and the wider automotive value chain.

That distinction matters because it exposes the false choice at the heart of this debate.

One can support tougher safety standards without accepting that age is the best measure of safety.

A sixteen year old Toyota with an impeccable service history, sound chassis, functional airbags, good brakes and acceptable emissions does not become a public menace at midnight on its birthday. Meanwhile, a seven year old vehicle can be abused, badly repaired and mechanically dangerous.

If danger is the disease, test for danger.

Do not diagnose a vehicle by its birth certificate.

The economic implications are even harder to ignore.

The used vehicle sitting in a garage feeds an ecosystem. Someone imports it. Someone clears it. Someone transports it. Someone services it. Someone sells tyres for it. Someone repairs its electrical system. Someone sells replacement parts. Someone sprays it. Someone drives it commercially.

Industrial policy cannot count jobs inside an assembly plant while treating livelihoods outside its gates as statistical litter.

And then there is the Ghanaian consumer.

If government removes the cheaper end of the vehicle market, where is the affordable credit that allows the buyer to climb upward?

You cannot legislate a man into a newer car.

If he cannot afford the replacement, he does not magically become richer because GSA changed the standard. He may simply keep the twenty five year old vehicle he already owns running for another five years.

That creates a dangerous paradox.

A policy designed to modernise Ghana’s fleet could end up keeping even older vehicles on the road for longer.

There is also the question of local assembly.

Ghana should support the development of a domestic automotive industry. But that industry deserves protection because it creates measurable Ghanaian value, not merely because imported competition has been administratively weakened.

Show us the numbers. How many vehicles are actually assembled in Ghana each year? How many permanent Ghanaian jobs have been created? How much genuine local content exists? How many components are manufactured here? How much does the State sacrifice in tax incentives to assemblers? Then compare those benefits with the Customs revenue, businesses and livelihoods potentially displaced across Ghana’s used vehicle economy.

Patriotism is not an exemption from arithmetic.

And PVoC introduces another question.

If a Ghanaian importer must pay an approved third party abroad before his vehicle may enter Ghana, tell us who owns the inspection companies, how they were selected, what they charge, who audits them and where an importer appeals when they get it wrong.

A compulsory certificate can become a private tax wearing a safety vest.

Keep the prohibition on flooded vehicles. Keep out fire damaged wrecks. Reject compromised chassis. Stop fraudulent conversions. Verify vehicle histories. Strengthen emissions standards. Make roadworthiness testing merciless.

But if a fifteen year old vehicle passes rigorous structural, mechanical, emissions and history tests, government must demonstrate why age alone should pronounce the final sentence.

That is the heart of the matter.

A good vehicle policy should punish defects, not dates.

Ghana should not have to choose between becoming a dumping ground for dangerous vehicles and pricing ordinary citizens out of mobility. That is a false choice.

The real test is whether the restriction is lawful, the safety evidence is compelling, the economics are survivable and the burden imposed on citizens is proportionate.

Safety must be proved. Regulation must be lawful. Policy must survive arithmetic.

Because if a roadworthy car can be rejected solely because it is fifteen years old, Ghana must answer the question this policy keeps avoiding:

Are we regulating danger or birthdays?

If the answer is birthdays, then the problem is not the car.

It is the policy.

By Kay Codjoe

Why Bother Branding Gari and Pepper?

We already get it with other things. GRA put tax stamps on alcohol. You see that sticker and you know “this one is real.” Food needs the same. For the person selling: Nobody pays extra for “gari”. But people will pay for ‘’Mamaga’s Volta Gold Gari”. Because they know what they are getting. Branded food gets into shops, schools, and even outside Ghana. And customers come back for you, not just because you were the cheapest that day. For all of us eating it: If a pack of ginger chips has a name and a number on it, someone can be traced. If it’s in an open bowl, good luck. In a time where people are cutting corners with food, a name is safety. For Ghana: Branded local food means more jobs, less waste, and money coming in. Kenyan tea and Ethiopian coffee didn’t blow up by accident. They had a name. Our kenkey, our gari, our carrots can have one too.

This Won’t Be Easy

Branding Coke is simple. Branding fresh pepper is not. Fresh things rot. Carrots and tomatoes can’t sit and wait for nice packaging. Most sellers are working with small money. Paying for FDA, labels, bags… it feels like too much. And the rules right now are written for big factories, not for the woman frying gari in her compound. Plus, one week your kokonte is soft. Next week it’s hard. How do you build trust like that? That is why we are stuck. Cheap. Same. And easy for people to fake.

What Should Sellers Actually Do?

You don’t need a big factory to start. Start small.

1. Get your product right first

If you make corn dough, make it the same way every time. Same taste. Same texture. People won’t follow a brand that keeps changing.

•  Put your name on it

You don’t need glass jars. Get clean bags and a sticker. Write your name, your town, your number, and the date. “Best before”. That alone tells people “I’m not hiding anything.”

• Tell people where it’s from

“Bawku Carrots.” “Central Region Gari.” “Pure Ginger, No Colour.” People care about that now. Take pictures of your farm. Post it. Let them see the hands behind the food.

• Go for one registration

FDA has a small-scale option. It’s not as expensive. Get it. Put the number on your pack. It’s proof.

• Use the fear to your advantage

Everyone is scared of fake food right now. So say it: “100% Pure. No Chemicals.” Be the one people can trust.

What GSA and FDA Need to Do

GRA has tax stamps. Now we need food stamps. Trust stamps.

1. Bring out a “Ghana Food Safe Mark”

A simple sticker with a QR code. FDA and GSA run it together. You scan and you see who made it, where, and when. Green means tested. Yellow means registered. And please, make it cheap and easy for all groups of people. Do it at the district level. Don’t make a woman from Bawku come to Accra.

• Build community processing centers

Places where sellers can go to dry, seal, and test their gari, dough, and ginger chips. Leave with a proper pack. Rwanda did this for coffee and it worked.

• Protect our food names

“Ga Kenkey” should mean something. “Bawku Onions”. “Volta Gari”. Make it a law so people can’t just copy and spoil the name.

• Go hard on the fakes, buy from the real ones

Fine people adding dye to oil. Jail people repackaging expired goods. At the same time, let government schools and hospitals buy from certified local brands. Give them business.

• Teach us to ask questions

Run ads. “Does it have a name? Does it have a number?” Train people that food with no label is food with no owner.

Other Countries Have Done This Already

Kenya put QR codes on avocados. Now “Kenya Avocados” sell for more abroad. India helped small spice makers get packaging and barcodes. Now they sell online. Rwanda turned local coffee into “Rwanda Bourbon” and farmers started earning real money. Same story everywhere. Get standard. Get certified. Tell your story. Enforce quality.

So What Now?

We have two roads. We can keep selling food with no name. Keep fighting on price. Keep hoping the next bag isn’t bad. Or we can start naming our food. If you sell: pick one thing. Make it good. Package it. Put your name on it. If you’re GSA or FDA: give us that Food Safe Mark. Build the hubs. Protect our names. If you’re buying: stop picking food with no owner. Ask. Pay a little more for safety. Because the truth is simple. Food with a name wins. Food with a face gets loyal customers. And food with trust is the one that will take us far.

The writer, Dr. Ebenezer Arthur Duncan is a lecturer at University of Professional Studies, Marketing Department.

But have you ever stopped to think about the dangers that may be waiting for them online? Maybe not.

As parents and caregivers, we naturally want our children to be comfortable and happy, especially during the long vacation when they are mostly at home.

But with many parents busy with work and other responsibilities, it is becoming increasingly common to leave children with phones, tablets and other gadgets to keep them occupied.

The question is: who is keeping an eye on what they are doing with these gadgets?

Not too long ago, my niece, let’s call her Afia, almost found herself in a difficult situation.

Her biological father, who had not been part of her life since she was born, suddenly resurfaced after Afia’s grandmother passed away.

He somehow got her number and began communicating with her, claiming he wanted to take responsibility for her.

But rather than simply reconnecting with his daughter, his conversations began to paint her mother in a bad light. Afia, being a child, could easily have been influenced by what she was being told.

Could this have happened because she was not properly supervised? I would say yes.

Wanting your child to have everything they need does not mean giving them unrestricted access to the internet without monitoring what they are doing. Sometimes, what children do online is the very thing you least expect.

And it is not only children who are vulnerable.

Even as adults, there are websites and links we click without properly checking whether they are legitimate or compromised. This brings us to PHISHING, not FISHING.

Phishing involves cybercriminals disguising malicious links, messages or websites as legitimate ones in an attempt to trick people into revealing sensitive information or giving them access to their accounts.

The worrying part is that even people we believe should know better can fall victim.

Broadcast journalist Saddick Adams of the Angel Broadcasting Network once shared his experience of receiving a phishing link from a trusted friend.

He clicked on it, and his X account was subsequently compromised. His followers were then contacted and attempts were made to extort money from them using his identity.

If an experienced adult can fall victim because a link appeared to come from someone he trusted, imagine how vulnerable an unsupervised child can be.

Children are naturally curious. They trust easily. They may click on a link because it was sent by someone they know, accept a friend request because the person appears friendly, or share a picture because they believe the person on the other end can be trusted.

And that is where the danger begins.

The Cybersecurity Act, 2020 (Act 1038), particularly Sections 62 to 66, provides protection for children online. It addresses offences including:

• Indecent images and photographs of a child
• Dealing with a child for purposes of sexual abuse
• Aiding and abetting the dealing of a child for purposes of sexual abuse
• Cyberstalking of a child
• Sexual extortion.

These provisions should not simply remain in the law books. They should serve as a reminder to parents and caregivers of the responsibility they have to protect children who are exposed to the internet.

Children can easily be lured into sharing indecent images or engaging with strangers online because they believe the person on the other side is genuine and trustworthy. By the time they realise something is wrong, it may already be too late.

Recently, DJ Switch of Talented Kids fame, speaking on Joy FM’s Strong and Sassy, spoke about how her mother protected her from certain comments and interactions surrounding her content when she was younger.

Her experience is a powerful reminder of what parental supervision can do.

Giving a child a phone or tablet should not mean handing over complete freedom. Once we introduce children to the internet and social media, we also take on the responsibility of guiding them through that space.

Talk to them about what they see online. Know the platforms they use. Explain the dangers of speaking to strangers, clicking unknown links and sharing personal or private information.

Most importantly, create an environment where they feel comfortable telling you when something does not feel right.

The internet can be a wonderful place for children to learn, create and connect. But without proper guidance and supervision, it can also expose them to dangers they are simply not equipped to handle.

So, before you hand that gadget to your child to keep them quiet or occupied, ask yourself one simple question:

What happens after I give it to them?

Let us give our children access to technology, but let us also give them the protection, guidance and supervision they need to use it safely.

Let’s keep our children safe online.

For generations, the word “vacation” meant one thing to Ghanaian students: a break from school.

In other words, it was a time to sleep a little longer, visit family, play with friends, travel, learn a skill, participate in church activities, read for pleasure, help at home or simply have time to rest.

Today, however, that meaning appears to be changing.

For many students, particularly those in private schools and increasingly some public schools, the end of the academic term no longer necessarily means the end of lessons.

Instead, classrooms reopen for what are commonly known as vacation classes or, in some cases, “summer school”. These programmes may offer academic revision alongside coding, robotics, creative arts, sports and other activities.

As a result, this trend raises a simple but important question: if students are supposed to be on vacation, why are many of them still in school?

The Purpose of Vacation for Students

To begin with, a school vacation is not merely an empty period in the academic calendar. Rather, it provides students who spend months dealing with lessons, assignments, tests, and examinations an opportunity to rest, reconnect with family and friends, play, explore their interests, and recover from the demands of schoolwork.

That said, this does not mean children should stop learning when school closes. On the contrary, reading, practising mathematics, learning a musical instrument, developing digital skills or participating in a structured programme can all be productive.

However, the key issue here is balance.

In fact, education does not only happen inside a classroom. Children also learn through play, practical experiences, relationships, hobbies and everyday life. Therefore, vacation can provide opportunities for forms of learning and development that the regular school timetable may not always accommodate.

Nevertheless, the growing culture of vacation classes suggests that, for many children, the break from school is becoming increasingly difficult to separate from school itself.

How Did Vacation Classes Become So Common?

At this point, it is important to note that there is no single moment that can be identified as the beginning of vacation classes in Ghana. However, the country has a long history of extra classes, including after-school, weekend and holiday lessons.

For instance, in 1995, the government introduced a policy banning extra classes organised by individual teachers or groups of teachers on school premises and public buildings when students were charged additional fees. Despite this, extra classes continued in different forms.

Similarly, in 2017, the Eastern Regional Director of Education also cautioned teachers against charging students for vacation and extra classes.

Over time, what was once largely viewed as additional academic support appears to have developed into a more organised and widespread vacation industry, particularly within the private-school sector. In fact, a 2024 Ghana News Agency report on summer schools in Tema noted that almost all private schools in Ghana, particularly in Greater Accra, organise summer programmes, with some even accepting students from outside the school.

Although the terminology may have changed, the underlying practice remains familiar as students spend parts, if not the entire period, of their school break in organised learning.

Are These Vacation Classes Meant for Educational Purposes or Merely Business?

This is where the debate becomes uncomfortable as on one hand, schools have expenses. Teachers need to be paid, while educational materials, facilities, transportation and specialist activities all come at a cost. Therefore, a well-designed vacation programme that provides students with meaningful academic or practical experiences can reasonably justify an additional fee.

However, the problem begins when participation stops being genuinely voluntary.

In other words, there is a clear difference between a school saying, “We are offering an optional programme to help students improve their mathematics, reading and digital skills,” and creating the impression that, “If your child does not attend and pay, he or she will fall behind.”

Consequently, when parents feel they have no real choice, an educational opportunity can start looking like an unofficial additional school fee—simply put, extortion.

This concern becomes even more serious when regular classroom instruction is inadequate, thereby leaving parents feeling that they must pay for these additional lessons simply to ensure their children receive the education they should already be getting during the normal school term.

Closely related to this issue is perhaps the most important question: what happens to parents who cannot afford these vacation classes?

For example, while one child may spend six weeks attending these programmes, another may remain at home because the family cannot afford the fees. By the time school resumes, the first child may already have covered material that the second has not seen.

In such a situation, if that child subsequently struggles academically, should the parents be blamed simply because they could not afford additional classes?

The answer is not necessarily.

After all, families have different incomes, responsibilities and financial situations. Therefore, a parent who cannot afford vacation classes is not automatically neglecting his or her child.

Ultimately, education should not become a system where children from wealthier families can continually purchase additional academic advantages while others are left trying to catch up.

The Pressure to Keep Up

In addition to financial concerns, another major factor driving the growth of vacation classes is parental anxiety.

Once many children begin attending, parents whose children stay home may start asking themselves: “What if my child falls behind?” “What if everyone else is ahead when school resumes?” or “What if the teacher covers something important?”

Gradually, the decision becomes less about whether the child actually needs additional lessons and more about keeping up with everyone else. In this way, an optional programme can slowly transform into an unofficial requirement.

This then leads to a bigger question that must be asked: if students genuinely require several additional weeks of structured learning each year, why not consider extending the academic year rather than turning every vacation into another period of formal instruction?

Put differently, what is the real purpose of going on vacation if schoolwork is going to continue throughout the period?

Certainly, it is worth acknowledging that some students may need extra academic support, particularly those struggling with specific subjects or examination candidates who may benefit from intensive revision. However, these needs may not apply to every student.

And if the case is schools regularly running out of time to complete the curriculum, perhaps the issue lies in how the academic year is structured, how teaching time is used and whether students are receiving sufficient instruction during the normal school term.

In any case, the solution cannot simply be to add extra structured schoolwork for pupils at an additional fee.

That being said, it is important not to paint every vacation programme with the same brush as bad.

When thoughtfully designed, vacation classes can provide meaningful academic support and opportunities to develop skills beyond the regular curriculum. For instance, a student struggling with mathematics can use the break to improve, while another child might discover coding, robotics, music, art, sports or entrepreneurship.

In addition, a well-designed programme can offer practical experiences that may not fit easily into the normal curriculum.

Therefore, the real question is not simply whether vacation classes are good or bad. Rather, it is whether the programme is necessary, genuinely beneficial and truly voluntary, and whether it provides something the child actually needs.

At the same time, Ghana may also need to rethink what it wants school vacations to achieve.

A vacation does not have to mean abandoning learning. Instead, it can give children the opportunity to learn in ways the classroom may not always provide. For example, children can read, play sports, help at home, learn a trade, develop a hobby, spend meaningful time with family or simply rest.

In doing so, these experiences can build practical skills, creativity, independence, relationships and emotional well-being, all of which are essential to a child’s development.

And perhaps, in the end, that is the wisdom behind the old saying: “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

In conclusion, if vacation classes are genuinely optional, provide meaningful value and do not disadvantage children whose parents cannot afford them, then they can be useful.

However, if parents feel forced to pay because they fear their children will otherwise fall behind, then Ghana has a bigger issue to address.

Ultimately, a school vacation should give children room to rest, grow and learn differently. It should not become another financial test for their parents.

There are legitimate questions that must be asked about academic integrity, institutional accountability and the processes through which academics are appointed and evaluated. Those questions should never be suppressed. But there is another question that universities, including those in Ghana, must have the courage to confront: what happens to young academics when their success makes them visible, independent and, in some environments, uncomfortable to those who occupy positions above them?

This is a question we cannot afford to ignore. Young academics enter universities full of ambition. They publish, teach, supervise students, secure research funding, attend conferences, win awards and build international networks. At first, their achievements are celebrated as evidence of institutional success. Their supervisors and senior colleagues proudly speak about them as the next generation. But sometimes something changes. The young academic becomes too successful. The publications become too many. The invitations become too international. The awards become too frequent. The research profile becomes too independent. The young scholar begins receiving recognition from people outside the institution. They become editors, reviewers, grant holders, keynote speakers and research leaders. They establish networks that do not depend on the approval of one senior academic.

And suddenly, excellence can become threatening. This is where academic bullying becomes particularly dangerous. Seniority itself is not the problem. Universities need experienced scholars. Senior academics have institutional memory, knowledge and wisdom that should be used to develop those coming behind them. The problem arises when seniority becomes a weapon: when experience is converted into entitlement, hierarchy into intimidation, and institutional authority into personal power.

A young academic can be reminded repeatedly that they are “junior”. Their opinions can be dismissed before they are heard. Opportunities can disappear without explanation. Their achievements can be deliberately minimised. Their names can be excluded from conversations where their expertise is relevant. Rumours can replace evidence. Committees can become instruments of punishment. Administrative processes can be selectively weaponised. Professional relationships can be manipulated to isolate them.

Sometimes the bullying is subtle enough to be denied. Sometimes it is not. There are young academics who have been threatened, humiliated, intimidated and warned about the consequences of becoming “too visible”. Some have been made to understand that independence comes at a price. The message is often unspoken but unmistakable: know your place.

But what exactly is the place of a young academic? Is it to remain permanently deferential? Is it to wait for permission to excel? Is it to ensure that their achievements never become greater than those of the people above them? Or is it to become the very best academic they can possibly become? We need to ask these questions particularly seriously in Ghanaian higher education.

Our universities cannot build world-class institutions while maintaining cultures in which young academics are expected to navigate invisible hierarchies, patronage networks and personal loyalties before they can advance. Academic excellence should not require allegiance to a powerful individual. A young scholar should be able to succeed because of the quality of their scholarship, not because they have mastered the politics of whom to please. Perhaps the most dangerous moment in the career of a young academic is when they become independent. A junior scholar who depends entirely on a senior colleague is easier to control. But the young scholar who can secure their own grants, publish internationally, build their own research network, attract postgraduate students and receive recognition without institutional patronage becomes difficult to control.

Independence can then be mistaken for arrogance. Confidence can be interpreted as disrespect. Achievement can be described as ambition. Visibility can be portrayed as self-promotion. And legitimate disagreement can be reframed as insubordination. This is how academic bullying can evolve from interpersonal hostility into institutional persecution. The weapons are not always obvious. Sometimes they are emails. Sometimes they are committee decisions. Sometimes they are whispered conversations. Sometimes they are exclusion from opportunities. Sometimes they are malicious allegations. Sometimes they are threats to reputation or career. And in the most frightening cases, intimidation can extend beyond the workplace and become a threat to personal safety.

That is why the story of Jason Arday should not be reduced to one university, one country or one controversy. Reports surrounding Arday’s experience describe racist messages, threats and extraordinary levels of public scrutiny, while the circumstances and competing accounts surrounding particular incidents remain contested. Cambridge has said that it provided security measures including screened communications and panic alarms. The lesson is not that successful academics should be shielded from legitimate scrutiny. They should not. The lesson is that scrutiny and persecution are not the same thing.

Academic accountability requires evidence, due process and fairness. Bullying requires fear, humiliation and power. A university that cannot distinguish between the two puts its people and its intellectual culture at risk. We must therefore create institutions in which a young academic can report intimidation without fearing retaliation. Complaints involving senior academics must be investigated independently. Institutional processes must not become weapons for settling personal scores. Threats to personal safety must be taken seriously. Whistle-blowers must be protected. And seniority must never place anyone beyond accountability.

Most importantly, senior academics must understand that their greatest legacy is not the number of people they have defeated, silenced or controlled. It is the number of people they have helped to rise. The measure of academic seniority should not be how many junior colleagues are afraid to challenge you. It should be how many younger academics are stronger, more confident and more accomplished because they encountered you.

Ghanaian universities are producing remarkable young scholars. They should not have to choose between excellence and safety, independence and belonging, recognition and peace of mind.

A university should be the place where talent is cultivated, not punished. Before the next Jason, we need to look around our institutions. There is almost certainly a young academic somewhere who has just won an award, published an important paper, secured a major grant, received international recognition or simply dared to become independent. Perhaps they are being celebrated publicly while privately enduring intimidation that nobody sees.

We should ask what happens to them next. Because the future of our universities will not be determined only by how many professors we appoint today. It will be determined by whether those professors create an environment in which the next generation can rise without fear.

Seniority should be a responsibility, not a weapon. Excellence should be encouraged, not punished. And no young academic should have to become smaller simply to make someone else feel bigger.

Yet, for too many women in our dear country, pregnancy and childbirth remain dangerous journeys. Preventable complications continue to claim lives despite significant improvements in access to healthcare and antenatal services.

Ghana has made important progress, reducing its maternal mortality ratio from 943 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2000 to 234 deaths per 100,000 live births in 2023, according to the latest estimates from the World Health Organization (WHO) and partner agencies.

However, this remains far above the Sustainable Development Goal and WHO benchmark of fewer than 70 maternal deaths per 100,000 live births by 2030.

While these may sound like the usual statistics, they represent the lives of mothers, children and families, and futures forever changed.

President Mahama’s charge

This sad reality is driving a renewed national effort led by President John Dramani Mahama through the Ministry of Health to address maternal mortality and save the lives of mothers.

President Mahama, as a father and leader of our nation, has been unequivocal on this issue: no woman should lose her life while giving life.

That conviction is driving the government’s determination to make the reduction of maternal mortality a national priority. For us at the Ministry of Health, we see it as a moral imperative and a shared national responsibility.

As a medical doctor, a woman, a mother and Deputy Minister for Health, I share that commitment. Together with my Minister, Hon. Kwabena Mintah Akandoh, we are determined to work with healthcare professionals, traditional leaders, development partners and communities to ensure that every pregnant woman has access to timely, quality and life-saving care.

The Maternal Mortality Action and Response Plan (MMARP) is an initiative by the Ministry of Health aimed at accelerating the reduction of maternal deaths and ensuring that every woman survives pregnancy and childbirth.

The troubling question

As part of the MMARP, I recently undertook a working tour of the Greater Accra and Ashanti Regions, engaging key stakeholders, including health professionals, traditional leaders and volunteers, to canvass support for efforts to reduce maternal deaths.

The engagements confronted me with a troubling question: Why are women still dying during childbirth after attending more than eight antenatal care visits?

The answer lies in the reality that access to care alone is not enough. A woman may diligently attend antenatal clinics yet still face fatal complications if emergency care is delayed, referral systems fail or critical services are unavailable when she needs them most.

That is why, as a government, we are not focusing only on access. We are also concerned about the quality, timeliness and effectiveness of care.

At the Greater Accra and Ashanti Regional Health Directorates, I met health managers, medical directors, frontline professionals and development partners to examine maternal mortality trends and identify gaps that continue to put lives at risk.

Together, we discussed practical solutions to strengthen emergency obstetric care, improve referral systems and deepen accountability across our health facilities.

I also paid courtesy calls on King Tackie Teiko Tsuru II, the Ga Mantse, and Otumfuo Nana Osei Tutu II, the Asantehene, to seek the support of traditional authorities in this national effort.

Maternal health is not solely the responsibility of doctors and nurses. Communities, families, chiefs, queen mothers, religious leaders and opinion leaders all have a role to play in ensuring that pregnant women receive timely and appropriate care.

I was encouraged by the commitment of the Asantehene and the Ga Mantse, and their pledge that traditional leaders would champion maternal health awareness and encourage women to seek care early and consistently.

Health workers’ commitment

My visits to the Greater Accra Regional Hospital and Korle Bu Teaching Hospital provided valuable insights into the realities facing frontline health workers.

Doctors, nurses and midwives continue to work tirelessly, often under immense pressure, to save lives. They also identified challenges that must be addressed if we are to achieve lasting reductions in maternal mortality.

Government remains committed to working with them to strengthen services, improve emergency response systems and close critical gaps in care.

The charge

Maternal mortality is a sad reality facing our republic and, as leaders and citizens, we must all rise to help address it.

Fortunately, President Mahama has given his commitment, and we at the Ministry of Health are eager to roll out measures to address the challenges.

That is why I am appealing to every Ghanaian to join this effort.

Support pregnant women in your family and community. Encourage pregnant women to attend antenatal clinics, deliver in health facilities and seek immediate care when complications arise.

Our men must become active partners in maternal health. Community leaders must use their influence to promote healthy behaviours. Employers, faith-based organisations and civil society groups must also lend their voices to this cause.

The truth is that most maternal deaths are preventable. With timely care, strong health systems and community support, more mothers can survive and thrive.

As a government, our vision is clear: Every pregnancy should be safe. Every delivery should be protected. Every mother should return home with her newborn.

Together, let us make maternal mortality a challenge of the past and build a Ghana where no woman dies while giving life.

Spend a few minutes watching children in a preschool, and you will hear it repeatedly.

“I made a new friend today.”

Often, the friendship began only moments earlier. A shared toy, a game of tag, or a few minutes on the swings is enough for one child to declare another a friend.

As adults, we smile at this innocence. We know that friendship is more complicated than that.

Or is it?

Viewed through the Continuity lens, children and adults are not defining friendship differently. They are operating with different amounts of accumulated continuity.

A preschool child has very little personal history. There are relatively few shared experiences that distinguish one relationship from another. Friendship is therefore based largely on the present moment. The willingness to play together is enough to create the beginning of continuity.

Adults are different.

By adulthood, each of us carries decades of accumulated experience. We have developed beliefs, values, habits, disappointments, ambitions, memories, and relationships. Entering another person’s life now requires connecting with a much richer history.

That is why adults rarely describe friendship by saying, “We enjoy each other’s company.”

Instead, we say:

“We’ve been friends for thirty years.”

“We’ve known each other since university.”

“We’ve been through a lot together.”

Notice what these statements have in common. None of them are really about time. They are about accumulated continuity.

Time is simply the easiest way to describe it.

In reality, time alone creates nothing.

Two neighbours may live next to each other for twenty years and never become close friends.

Two colleagues may work together for a decade and remain acquaintances.

On the other hand, soldiers serving together during conflict, founders building a company from nothing, or classmates overcoming years of shared challenges often develop lifelong friendships in a remarkably short period.

What makes the difference?

Not the number of years.

The density of shared experience.

Friendship grows when experiences are accumulated, remembered, and continuously built upon.

Every conversation.

Every challenge overcome together.

Every promise kept.

Every celebration shared.

Every disagreement resolved.

Each one becomes another layer of continuity.

Over time, something remarkable happens.

Friends no longer need lengthy explanations. They understand references that no one else understands. A single glance, a smile, or a short sentence carries years of accumulated meaning.

Continuity has reduced the friction of communication.

This also explains why trust and friendship are inseparable.

Trust is not created in a single dramatic moment. It is accumulated through thousands of small demonstrations of reliability.

Every confidence protected.

Every promise honoured.

Every act of loyalty.

These become deposits into what we might call continuity capital.

Perhaps the most beautiful demonstration of continuity is what happens at reunions.

Friends who have not seen each other for twenty or thirty years often find themselves laughing within minutes. The relationship seems to restart almost instantly.

What has happened?

They have not created a new friendship.

They have reactivated preserved continuity.

The shared experiences were never lost. They simply lay dormant until the relationship resumed.

This leads us to an important insight.

Friendship is not measured by the passage of time.

It is measured by the accumulation and preservation of shared continuity.

Time helps only because it creates opportunities for continuity to grow.

Without shared experiences, time accomplishes very little.

Viewed this way, friendship becomes one of humanity’s greatest continuity systems.

It preserves memories.

It preserves trust.

It preserves identity.

It preserves wisdom.

And in doing so, it allows two lives to become increasingly valuable to one another over time.

Perhaps this is why some friendships endure for a lifetime while others disappear within months.

The difference is not simply how long they lasted.

It is whether continuity continued.

The Continuity Principle of Friendship

Friendship is not the passage of time between two people. It is the accumulation, preservation, and reactivation of shared experience. Time provides the opportunity. Continuity creates the friendship.

Today, that craze has largely faded. Although some members of Generation Z still wear fashionable frames to enhance their appearance, attention appears to have shifted to dental braces.

Braces are primarily used to correct orthodontic problems. Yet an increasing number of young people and even some middle-aged adults seem eager to wear them merely for aesthetic appeal, without necessarily having a dental condition that requires treatment.

This raises an important question: Are there sufficiently stringent assessment and regulatory procedures to determine who genuinely requires braces, or has the practice been left to market forces and the demands of fashion-conscious consumers? Orthodontists and the relevant regulatory authorities are best placed to provide a definitive answer.

Braces not accessories

Dental braces are used to straighten teeth and correct orthodontic conditions such as crooked, crowded or widely spaced teeth. They may also be prescribed to correct malocclusion a condition in which the upper and lower teeth do not fit together properly when the mouth is closed.

Braces work by applying gentle but continuous pressure to move the teeth gradually into their appropriate positions. Although they are commonly associated with children and teenagers, adults may also undergo orthodontic treatment where clinically necessary.

There are several forms of orthodontic treatment, including traditional metal braces, ceramic braces, lingual braces, self-ligating braces and clear aligners. The appropriate option depends on the nature and severity of the patient’s condition, as well as the recommendation of a qualified dental professional.

Clear aligners are removable, unlike conventional braces, but they must generally be worn for most of the day to be effective. They are normally removed only when eating, drinking, brushing or flossing.

Orthodontic treatment often begins between the ages of nine and 14 because the jaw and facial bones are still developing and may respond more readily to treatment. This does not mean braces are ineffective in adulthood. Adults can also obtain good results, although treatment may sometimes take longer.

Benefits of proper orthodontic treatment

When prescribed and supervised by a qualified orthodontist or dentist, braces can significantly improve a person’s oral health and quality of life. Beyond producing a straighter smile, they can make the teeth easier to clean, reduce the risk of tooth decay and gum disease, and improve essential functions such as chewing and speaking.

However, even properly prescribed braces may cause temporary discomfort, particularly after they are fitted or tightened. Patients may also experience irritation of the tongue, lips or inner cheeks, difficulty eating and occasional jaw pain. These effects are usually monitored and managed as part of professional orthodontic care.

The critical point is that braces are not harmless decorations. They are medical devices designed to move teeth and alter a person’s bite. Their use should therefore be based on a proper clinical assessment, not simply a desire to follow a trend.

Dangers of unsupervised braces

Wearing braces without a genuine orthodontic need or obtaining them from an unqualified person can expose an individual to serious oral-health risks. Unnecessary or poorly controlled pressure may move otherwise healthy teeth out of position, creating gaps, crookedness or a new bite problem.

Other potential consequences include:

• tooth decay and permanent white or brown marks caused by plaque and food collecting around brackets; 
• swollen or bleeding gums, which may progress to gum disease; 
• gum recession and the loss of bone supporting the teeth; 
• shortening of tooth roots because of unnecessary or poorly controlled pressure; 
• damage to tooth enamel during the attachment or removal of brackets; 
• cuts, mouth ulcers and irritation caused by wires or badly fitted components; 
• infection from unsterilised instruments, unsafe materials or inappropriate adhesives; 
• choking if a bracket, wire or decorative component becomes detached; 
• jaw discomfort, difficulty chewing and headaches resulting from changes to the bite;
• injury to a tooth’s nerve, which may require root-canal treatment in severe cases; and 

The risk may be even greater where so-called fashion braces are fitted outside a properly regulated dental facility. Without an examination, X-rays where necessary, a diagnosis and continuing professional supervision, there may be no reliable way of predicting how the teeth, gums and supporting bone will respond.

Is fashion worth the risk?

It is difficult to understand why anyone would knowingly expose themselves to these risks solely for aesthetic satisfaction. Why pursue today’s fashionable appearance at the expense of tomorrow’s oral health?

Since the decision became public, some sections of the public have called on the Minister to reconsider it, arguing that Adamus Resources is Ghanaian-owned and that the government must protect indigenous businesses operating in the mining sector.

There is nothing wrong with demanding that Ghanaian businesses receive support. Local companies create jobs, pay taxes and provide livelihoods for thousands of people. Government has a responsibility to create an environment in which such businesses can survive and grow.

But should Ghanaian ownership be enough to shield a company from the consequences of breaking the law?

That question becomes even more important when the government’s fight against illegal mining is considered.

Since the National Anti-Illegal Mining Operations Secretariat (NAIMOS) began intensified operations, hundreds of young Ghanaians have been arrested in connection with illegal mining activities. These are not foreigners. They are Ghanaians who, in many cases, went into mining because it was one of the few ways they could earn an income and support themselves and their families.

Yet when the law caught up with them, being Ghanaian did not save them from arrest or prosecution.

So why should the same principle not apply to a Ghanaian-owned mining company?

Reports indicate that about 600 people have faced prosecution nationwide for illegal mining under the Mahama administration. The figure was cited by Deputy Attorney-General and Minister for Justice, Dr Dominic Ayine, in discussions on the government’s prosecution of illegal mining cases.

That number represents more than statistics on a government report. Behind every arrest and prosecution is an individual who has had to answer questions about his or her conduct under Ghana’s laws.

If the government is prepared to enforce the law against these individuals, then it is only fair to expect the same standard when dealing with companies operating on a much larger scale.

THE QUESTION OF EQUAL TREATMENT

The Adamus debate should therefore not be reduced to whether the company is Ghanaian-owned or foreign-owned. The more important question is whether the company complied with the laws and conditions governing its mining operations.

If there are grounds to show that the revocation was wrong, then those grounds should be presented and properly considered. But if the Minister acted within the law and followed due process, the fact that Adamus is Ghanaian-owned should not, by itself, become a reason to reverse the decision.

Are we asking for protection of Ghanaian businesses, or protection from accountability?

That distinction matters.

Government can support indigenous businesses while still insisting that those businesses comply with the law. In fact, protecting legitimate Ghanaian businesses requires a system in which everyone plays by the same rules.

The Minerals Commission reportedly uncovered additional defaults, including US$2.56 million in unpaid mineral rights fees, GH¢86.8 million in unpaid royalties and GH¢290.5 million in tax arrears, as well as unexplained variances in gold exports.

There are also claims that the company transferred US$224 million to related parties abroad between 2020 and 2024, while environmental bonds remained only partially fulfilled.

The recent comments by Kofi Bentil Esq., a lawyer and Senior Vice President of policy think tank IMANI Africa, have added another dimension to the debate.

In a post addressed to President John Dramani Mahama and Lands Minister Emmanuel Armah-Kofi Buah, he argued that government cannot claim to support Ghanaians in mining while, at the same time, collapsing Ghanaian-owned mining companies.

His position raises a legitimate concern about the need to support local participation in Ghana’s mining industry.

There are legitimate questions for anyone demanding that government reverse the revocation purely because Adamus is Ghanaian-owned, especially with Kofi Bentil and others.

If Adamus Resources is alleged to owe GH¢86.8 million in royalties and GH¢290.5 million in tax arrears, is the argument that its Ghanaian ownership should make government more lenient on those obligations?

If the reported US$224 million transferred to related parties abroad between 2020 and 2024 raises questions about compliance with mining laws and regulations, should those concerns be overlooked because the company is Ghanaian-owned?

And if Ghanaian-owned mining companies are allowed to operate while owing substantial royalties and taxes, how will government raise the revenue needed to build roads, schools, hospitals, water systems and other infrastructure for the very citizens whose interests we claim to be protecting?

The point is not to dismiss Mr Bentil’s argument. Rather, it is to ask whether support for indigenous participation should extend to protection from legitimate regulatory and financial obligations.

Many of those arrested during anti-galamsey operations were also trying to make a living. Some lost their equipment. Others were taken before the courts. Their families were left to deal with the consequences.

They were not given a pass because they were Ghanaian.

ONE LAW, ONE STANDARD

The case involving Bernard Antwi Boasiako, popularly known as Chairman Wontumi, has also become part of the wider conversation.

As owner of Akonta Mining Company and a prominent political figure, he is undoubtedly a Ghanaian. Yet his case demonstrates an important principle: nationality does not place anyone outside the reach of the law.

Where a court finds that an individual or company has breached the law, the appropriate legal consequences must follow.

If the law can apply to a powerful Ghanaian businessman, why should it not apply to another Ghanaian-owned company?

That is the uncomfortable question the Adamus controversy has brought to the fore.

The debate should not be about whether Adamus deserves sympathy. It should be about whether the company deserves a fair hearing and whether the law was properly applied.

If the revocation was procedurally flawed or unsupported by evidence, the company should have every opportunity to challenge it through the appropriate channels.

But if the government has established that the lease was revoked in accordance with the law, then calls for its reversal should be based on evidence rather than simply on the company’s Ghanaian ownership.

Ghana cannot fight illegal mining effectively if enforcement becomes selective.

The young man operating at a riverbank, the businessman financing illegal mining and the large-scale mining company must all understand that the law has consequences.

What kind of mining sector do we want to build?

One where political connections, wealth or ownership determine who is punished and who is protected?

Or one where every operator understands that the privilege to mine Ghana’s mineral resources comes with responsibilities?

The answer should be obvious.

Supporting Ghanaian-owned mines is important, but so is protecting Ghana’s forests, rivers and communities.

These objectives should not be presented as mutually exclusive.

Government can help indigenous companies access financing, technology, concessions and technical support without weakening the laws designed to regulate mining.

WHY IS THE CHAMBER OF MINES SILENT?

This also raises questions about the silence of the Ghana Chamber of Mines, particularly its Chief Executive Officer, Dr Kenneth Ashigbey.

When Chairman Wontumi faced legal action in connection with the operations of Akonta Mining Company, Dr Ashigbey publicly commended the court for taking action.

His public position at the time suggested that the mining industry must respect the rule of law and that legal processes should be allowed to take their course.

So why has Dr Kenneth Ashigbey and the Chamber of Mines been relatively silent following the revocation of the Adamus Resources mining lease by the Lands Minister?

Is Dr Ashigbey quiet because of the CEO of Adamus Resources’ current position as the Vice-Chair of the Chamber of Mines?

Is the principle of supporting the rule of law expected to apply only when a mining company or individual is facing prosecution, but not when government takes regulatory action against a Ghanaian-owned mining company?

The Chamber of Mines has an important role to play in Ghana’s mining sector, and its voice carries weight.

If the Chamber believes the Adamus lease revocation is justified, it should say so.

If it believes the decision was unfair, procedurally flawed or detrimental to indigenous participation in mining, it should equally make that position known.

Silence, especially after taking a strong public position in a previous case, inevitably raises questions about consistency.

THE PRINCIPLE MUST BE CONSISTENCY

Ultimately, the Adamus controversy presents an opportunity for Ghana to have an honest conversation about the difference between supporting local businesses and giving them special treatment.

If Adamus Resources has been treated unfairly, let the evidence establish that.

If the company has been found to have breached its obligations, then the law must take its course.

The same standard must apply to the hundreds of Ghanaians who have been arrested or prosecuted for illegal mining.

They too are citizens. They too have families. They too were trying to earn a living.

But being Ghanaian did not place them above the law.

Why, then, should Ghanaian ownership become the deciding factor in the Adamus case?

The strongest defence of Ghanaian businesses is not to demand exemption from the law. It is to demand fairness, transparency and due process.

That is the standard government should uphold, whether the person involved is a young miner, a politically exposed businessman or the owner of a large Ghanaian mining company.

At the end of the day, the issue is bigger than Adamus Resources.

It is about the kind of country Ghana wants to become.

A country serious about ending illegal mining must enforce its laws without fear or favour.

At the same time, a country serious about promoting indigenous businesses must ensure that legitimate Ghanaian companies are not unfairly driven out of business.

Both principles can coexist.

The law should protect the innocent, punish wrongdoing and give everyone the same opportunity to be heard.

That is not an attack on Ghanaian-owned businesses. It is the foundation upon which credible Ghanaian businesses can actually thrive.

By: Samuel Kwaku Mensah
Retired Miner
samuelkmensah221@gmail.com

Mr Ofori-Atta is standing trial on 28 counts of corruption and corruption-related offences arising from the Office of the Special Prosecutor’s investigation into revenue-assurance contracts between Strategic Mobilisation Ghana Limited and the Ghana Revenue Authority.

The former minister was initially charged alongside seven other persons on 78 counts in November 2025. The charges were subsequently amended, leaving Mr Ofori-Atta to face 28 counts, while the remaining accused persons face separate charges connected with the case.

Those also brought before the courts include former GRA Commissioners-General Emmanuel Kofi Nti and Ammishaddai Owusu-Amoah; former Customs Commissioners Isaac Crentsil and Kwadwo Damoah; SML Chief Executive Officer Evans Adusei; and Mr Ofori-Atta’s former Chief of Cabinet, Ernest Darko Akore.

The prosecution alleges that the accused persons participated in acts of corruption and corruption-related offences connected with the SML–GRA revenue-assurance arrangements. These are serious allegations. They must be examined seriously, openly and fairly.

But two equally serious questions remain in the minds of many Ghanaians. Is This a Political Witch-Hunt?

That question cannot simply be dismissed as partisan propaganda. It has arisen from the history and handling of the case.

First, INTERPOL reportedly raised concerns about the predominantly political character of the matter involving Mr Ofori-Atta. Observations made during proceedings before a United States immigration court also appeared to question the evidential basis presented against him.

Second, in the proceedings concerning Mr Ofori-Atta’s immigration status, the judge reportedly found him credible and raised serious concerns about the affidavit submitted by the OSP. The affidavit was described as lacking persuasive evidence connecting him to criminal conduct, while the allegations were characterised as conclusory and unsupported by sufficiently reliable facts.

These observations did not determine the criminal case pending in Ghana, and they should not be presented as an acquittal. Nevertheless, they are far too serious to be brushed aside. Together with the position taken by the opposition New Patriotic Party, they have strengthened the perception that the pursuit of Mr Ofori-Atta may have a political dimension.

The conduct of state agencies has also generated legitimate unease.

Mr Ofori-Atta’s residence was reportedly raided by armed persons. The state initially denied responsibility, but following the emergence of CCTV footage, the incident was acknowledged and an apology was offered. Whatever explanation may be given, that episode set the tone for those who already suspected that this was not an ordinary criminal investigation.

Then came the sustained media campaign. Public accusations appeared to move faster than the legal process itself. Yet when the authorities had the opportunity to initiate formal extradition proceedings, the process was delayed.

The Attorney-General subsequently stated that his office had not received the necessary documentation to commence the extradition process in the United States. Even after the public was told that the process had been completed and that Mr Ofori-Atta was to be returned to Ghana, the judge in the United States proceedings reportedly observed that no extradition request had been filed at the relevant time.

The court then allowed additional time for Ghanaian authorities to act while Mr Ofori-Atta remained in immigration custody. Yet the anticipated filing still did not materialise within that period.

These are not trivial procedural lapses. They go directly to the credibility, preparedness and purpose of the state’s actions. If the evidence is compelling and the prosecution is ready, why did the formal legal process appear to lag behind the public campaign?

That is the question many Ghanaians continue to ask. Can the Public Be Confident of a Fair Trial?

The second question is even more fundamental: will the process be sufficiently fair, transparent and independent to command broad public confidence?

Recent political and judicial developments have deepened this concern. The conviction and imprisonment of the NPP’s Ashanti Regional Chairman, Bernard Antwi Boasiako, popularly known as Chairman Wontumi, have been described by his party and sections of the public as politically motivated.

Allegations have also circulated that political actors knew or predicted the outcome before the judgment was delivered.

Such allegations have not been established as fact. But they are not insignificant. When allegations of political interference reach the point where citizens claim that judgments are being written outside the courtroom, the credibility of the justice system itself comes under strain.

The removal of the Chief Justice has added another layer of suspicion. The government maintained that the prescribed constitutional process was followed, while the former Chief Justice denied the allegations made against her.

However, earlier public statements by some members of the governing party suggesting that she would be removed created an appearance that has proved difficult to erase.

It is not for this writer to pronounce on the truth of every allegation or to determine Mr Ofori-Atta’s guilt or innocence. That responsibility belongs to the court.

But justice does not operate in a vacuum. It depends upon public confidence, procedural fairness and the visible independence of the institutions entrusted with administering it.

The concerns raised by INTERPOL, the United States immigration proceedings and the reported findings made during Mr Ofori-Atta’s permanent-residency hearing have already cast a shadow over the case. The Ghanaian proceedings must therefore meet a particularly high standard of openness and fairness.

The public must be shown real evidence—not slogans, press conferences or political accusations. The prosecution must prove its case through admissible evidence. The defence must be given every

reasonable opportunity to challenge that evidence. The court must act independently and without fear, favour or political pressure.

If Mr Ofori-Atta committed the offences alleged against him, the evidence must establish that according to law. If the evidence does not support the charges, he must be vindicated without hesitation.

Nothing less will do.

Given the enormous publicity generated by the state and the intense public interest surrounding the case, there is also a respectable argument for allowing the proceedings to be televised, subject to the court’s rules and the protection of witnesses. Transparency would allow Ghanaians to hear the evidence directly instead of receiving selective interpretations from political communicators on either side.

The courtroom must not become a theatre for political equalisation. No Ghanaian should be prosecuted or imprisoned merely to satisfy party supporters, settle political scores or provide the appearance of action against corruption.

The pursuit of justice is too important for that. The liberty and reputation of a citizen are too important for that. The integrity of the Republic is too important for that.

Let the evidence be tested. Let the defence be heard. Let the court be independent. Let the process be open, fair and free from blemish.

At the end of it all, justice not politics; must be seen to have carried the day.

It is a place where they are supposed to discover their abilities, build confidence and prepare for a life of dignity and independence.

But across Ghana, that promise is being threatened by a shortage of specially trained teachers in special schools.

At a time when children who require specialised attention need teachers with the right skills, knowledge and patience to help them learn, many special schools are instead relying heavily on regular teachers who have little or no specialised training.

The situation has left heads of special schools deeply worried about the future of the children entrusted to their care.

Speaking at the Annual Conference of Heads of Special Schools in Ghana, the Chairperson of the Conference of Heads of Special Schools (COHESS), Roseline Frepomaa Adjepong, said the country had trained special education teachers within the education system, yet many of them were not being posted to special schools where their expertise was most needed.

Her concern is simple but painful: the teachers exist, but the children who need them most cannot access them.

According to Madam Adjepong, the shortage has forced headteachers of special schools to take regular teachers who are posted to their institutions and train them on the job before they can begin to make a meaningful impact.

That arrangement, she said, is placing an enormous burden on already stretched schools.

70 PER CENT ARE REGULAR TEACHERS

The scale of the problem is even more troubling.

Only about 30 per cent of teachers in special schools are specially trained, while the remaining 70 per cent are regular teachers.

Behind those percentages are real children.

Children who may need a teacher who understands how to communicate with them.

Children who may require specialised teaching methods, patience and individual attention.

Children whose progress can depend heavily on whether the person standing in front of them understands their particular educational needs.

For such learners, having an untrained teacher is not simply a staffing problem.

It can mean another barrier between them and the education they deserve.

And for teachers who enter special schools without specialised training, the challenge can be equally overwhelming.

They must learn while teaching, often depending on headteachers and experienced colleagues to show them how to handle situations they were never specifically trained for.

‘THE TEACHERS ARE THERE’

What makes the situation particularly difficult for school heads is the belief that Ghana already has trained personnel who could help close the gap.

Madam Adjepong said there are many trained special teachers within the system who are yet to be posted to special schools.

The question, therefore, becomes: Why are the teachers trained for special education not being deployed to the schools where they are desperately needed?

Every year, parents send their children to school hoping that education will give them a better chance in life.

They hope their children will learn.

They hope they will become independent.

They hope they will not be defined by their disabilities.

But when schools do not have enough specially trained teachers, those hopes can become painfully fragile.

A CALL FOR URGENT ACTION

The heads of special schools are therefore calling for greater attention to the staffing needs of their institutions.

They want trained special education teachers posted to special schools so that learners can receive the specialised instruction they need instead of relying predominantly on regular teachers who must first be trained after arrival.

The issue is not about whether regular teachers are willing to help.

It is about whether the education system is giving children with special needs the same seriousness, investment and opportunity they deserve.

Meanwhile, Professor Smile Gavua Dzisi, Deputy Director-General of the Ghana Education Service (GES) in charge of Management Services, said the government was working to address the challenges confronting special schools.

That assurance offers hope.

But for the heads, teachers, parents and, most importantly, the children in these schools, hope must eventually become action.

Because every child deserves a teacher who understands how to unlock their potential.

Every child deserves a classroom where they are not treated as an afterthought.

And every child with a disability deserves an education system that sees their ability before their limitation.

Ghana’s special schools are not asking for special treatment. They are asking for the specialised support their learners need to have a fair chance at life.

The children are already in the classrooms.

Now, Ghana must ensure the right teachers are there to teach them.

Srem-Sai writes: Legal vacations and trials; why the GBA President is…

Demonstrations and governance: Pressure on the system

“This notwithstanding, the Judiciary, with the consent of other stakeholders have by convention over the years, agreed to certain courts being designated as Vacation Courts to handle any emergencies arising during the vacation, usually interlocutory matters and never trials.”

The President’s second claim is that the decision, if any, to take proceedings on the substance of the case during the legal vacation lies with the lawyers in the case (and not the bench). More particularly, the President stated as follows:

 “However, the overriding consideration in any matter brought before a Vacation Judge has always been the willingness/availability of Counsel to appear before the  Court in any matter slated for conduct during the vacation. In other words, Counsel are not under any compulsion whatsoever to appear before a Vacation Court.”

Neither of the two claims is supported by law, rules, practice, or optimal reason. I will explain. However, not before I give a brief background to the conversation:

Nature of Court Proceedings

A court case entails two types of proceedings. They are (1) proceedings on the substantive matter, and (2) proceedings on interlocutory matters. Proceedings on the substantive matter entail proceedings that are capable of finally determining the case.

It often includes trials and hearings on the merits of cases. Interlocutory proceedings, on the other hand, involve motions and summons which do not determine the matter finally. Kindly note this down.

The tradition of law practice (as well as the dictate of the civil procedure rules) is that the superior courts scale down significantly on work in the months of August and September.

This is known as the “summer vacations” or “the long legal vacation”. In some jurisdictions, it is informally called “Judges’ vacation”. It is never called “lawyers’ vacation” anywhere in the world.

The key point here, however, is that the courts scale down on work significantly – they do not shut down. To continue operating partially, some judges – a few of them – are allowed to work over the vacation period.

The person who determines which judge works over the vacation is the administrative head of the courts, in this case, the Honourable Chief Justice and, of course, together with the inherent judicial power of a judge to manage and control his court’s work. One thing is, however, clear—a lawyer or a body of them does not determine that. Kindly note this, too, down.

The Chief Justice allows a Judge to work in the vacation by issuing what we call a “warrant” to the Judge. The Chief Justice’s warrant to a Judge to sit during the legal vacation allows the judge – known as a ‘vacation Judge’ – to hear two kinds of cases. 

The kinds of cases are (1) cases in his own court, and (2) cases in the courts of other judges who are on vacation. Note this, too, down.

In respect of cases in his own court, a vacation Judge is allowed to take both interlocutory proceedings and substantive proceedings. In respect of cases from other courts, however, a vacation Judge is allowed to take interlocutory proceedings only. This is based on the law and the understanding that it is only a substantive Judge (not a holding Judge) who could determine a case finally.

Now, I turn back to the GBA President’s claims of allegations on court proceedings during the legal vacation.

The Power over Court Proceedings

Contrary to the GBA President’s claim, the power to decide whether to take proceedings on the substance of a case during a legal vacation is for the bench, not for the bar. This is why:

A lawyer’s primary duty is, in fact, to his client – not to the client of another lawyer. If allowed to determine how justice is administered in the courts, a lawyer will decisively make decisions which will promote his client’s interest over the interest of another lawyer’s client.

In fact, this is the only reason courts and judges exist – to balance the interests of litigants. It is, therefore, fundamentally disturbing to suggest, as the GBA President has suggested, that “the overriding consideration in any matter brought before a Vacation Judge has always been the willingness/availability of Counsel to appear before the Court in any matter slated for conduct during the vacation.”

Let us, for a minute, turn to England, where the practice of legal vacation originates. There, it is emphatically the decision of the bench to determine how to run the courts, both in term-time and during vacations.

The Civil Procedure Rules Practice Direction 2F regulates the English High Court’s vacation work. There, one will notice that the Practice Direction is filled with phrases like “if the senior judge of that Division determines …”, “if the Court is satisfied …”, “as the Court may direct”, “Subject to the discretion of the Judge”, etc.

This has always been the case in Ghana, too. As we have known it, it is the Chief Justice who determines when and where a Court should work. She may, as we have come to know it, upon a warrant, determine and direct that a Judge sits even on weekends.

We are also aware that Courts have customarily conducted trials over legal vacation. Nowhere, either in England or in Ghana, is a lawyer or a body of them given the power to determine how court proceedings should go.

Thus, one is not particularly certain where the GBA President gets the alleged tradition of this version of legal vacation practice from.

Trials During the Vacations

Contrary to the GBA President’s claim, vacation Judges take proceedings on the substance of the case and do conduct trials during the legal vacation. Here is why:

As stated above, a vacation Judge takes both interlocutory and substantive proceedings on cases in his own court.

The reason for this is that a vacation Judge is entitled to and does, eventually, take his share of the vacation but in term-time. When he does, another Judge – a term Judge – takes his (the legal vacation Judge’s) cases.

As in the case of vacation, a term Judge too will – when the vacation Judge goes on leave – take only interlocutory proceedings on cases from the court of the Judge who is now on vacation.

Under such circumstances, too, substantive proceedings on cases from the vacation Judge will be on hold until the vacation Judge returns from leave. This is for the same reason and law that only a substantive Judge (not a holding Judge) could determine a case finally.

The net effect of this arrangement is that cases in the vacation Judge’s courts do not suffer disproportionate delays simply because he has served as a vacation Judge.

This has been the practice in our court. So, again, one is not particularly clear what the GBA President grounds the allegation that courts “never” conduct trials during legal vacations on.

Conclusion

Law practice is a difficult job. It drains you, both physically, mentally and emotionally. Many lawyers end up securing for themselves serious physical, behavioural and mental illnesses from law practice. Some manage life, sadly, with indulgences and addictions.

Legal vacations, thus, may be a good opportunity for lawyers – who are either unwilling or, for any reason, unable to take control of their lives – to get that well-deserved rest.

It is for this reason that many Judges accommodate the pleas of lawyers to scale down work during judges’ vacation.

This accommodation is, however, always upon request, on a case-by-case basis, and is subject to the consideration of the Judge who, for the time being, is conducting a case.

What the GBA President’s proposition in her letter to the Honourable Chief Justice seeks to do is grave. It seeks to move the power to manage and control court proceedings and to do justice from the hands of the Judge into the hands of a lawyer.

This has a severe and far-reaching policy implication for justice administration in Ghana. On the face of it alone, it distorts the very reason courts exist.

If one adds to it the fact that the claim is also not backed by law, rules, practice or optimal reason, then the matter gets even more unhealthy.

Now, a lawyer who wishes to take a rest during legal vacation knows exactly what to do. He attends proceedings and makes a plea to the Judge for accommodation.

The Judge will, in turn, consider the plea and, in the interest of justice, either grant the request (either wholly or in part) or refuse it altogether.

What a professional lawyer is not entitled to do and cannot do is to, in vacuo, beforehand, declare that he will not attend proceedings at all.

Also read:

• GBA urges Chief Justice to uphold legal vacation rules

• Case backlog is too much – Vitus Azeem calls for review of judicial vacation

Their claim was direct: key democratic institutions are being compromised, and government must be checked in public.

That is what demonstrations are for. They signal concern. They release pressure. They put on record that not everyone agrees. But in a constitutional republic, the real test begins after the crowd goes home.

From Nkrumah to Today: A Political Habit

Ghana knows protest well. In the Nkrumah era, mass rallies won independence. Afterward, the same energy was turned inward.

Dissent became subversion. The Preventive Detention Act meant you could be jailed for speaking out. The years after were about bread and butter. Students, workers, and market women marched against price hikes and shortages.

Under military rule, strikes shut the country down. Those protests did not always deliver democracy, but they forced governments to reverse wages and prices. Since the 1992 Constitution, protest has been a constitutional right.

Article 21 guarantees freedom of assembly. What followed is familiar: UTAG and TEWU strikes, OccupyGhana, #DumsorMustStop, #FixTheCountry, and now “Attack on Democracy.” The thread is simple. “When the river is in flood, even the dry logs float.” People take to the street when they feel normal channels are closed.

The African and Global Record

Across Africa, demonstrations have brought both change and damage. Kenya: Post-election protests forced a coalition government.

Many people died. Burkina Faso: sustained protests pushed out a president chasing a third term. Sudan: months of sit-ins ended a long military regime.

Nigeria: #EndSARS shifted public debate on policing, but structural reform stalled. In developed democracies, protest is part of the routine. The US Civil Rights marches led to law. France’s Yellow Vests won budget concessions.

UK anti-austerity marches did not topple a government, but they shaped policy and public memory. The lesson holds. Protest can raise the political cost of a decision.

It does not replace the institutions that must carry out that decision. “You do not use the same cutlass to clear the farm and to carve a stool.” The street and the chamber do different work.

What “Attack on Democracy” Actually Does

Three things happen immediately. First, visibility. A march puts an issue on the national agenda that could otherwise die in committee.

The government must now respond in public. Second, mobilization. It reminds citizens that politics is not only voting every few years. It builds civic energy. Third, leverage. A petition and media coverage create a record.

That record matters for what comes next. What a march does not do is write law, judge cases, or run institutions. If the objective is to confront what was termed an “Attack on Democracy,” the process cannot stop at the Presidency’s gate.

It must continue with legal action in the courts where constitutional breaches are alleged, with formal motions in Parliament to demand answers, and with sustained monitoring of state institutions.

The petition should be the opening statement, not the final word. Without that follow-through, the demonstration becomes an event, not an outcome.

 If the Street Is Not Enough: Other Tools

The Constitution gives us more than the right to assemble. We use some tools and ignore others.

1. Litigation. The Supreme Court has settled election disputes before. Petitions and judicial review are slow, but their rulings bind government. More cases, filed earlier, would help.
2. Parliamentary work. The minority has real power: urgent questions, Public Accounts Committee hearings, budget scrutiny. A well-documented minority report does more damage to bad policy than any slogan.
3. Independent monitoring. The media, universities, and civil society groups must track appointments, procurement, and decisions of public bodies in real time and publish what they find.
4. Structured dialogue. The NCCE and National Peace Council can convene, but only with clear terms and deadlines. Dialogue without deliverables is just delay. “The eye that does not sleep sees what the sleeping eye misses.” Governance is not corrected by noise. It is corrected by persistence inside institutions.

Responsibilities To organizers: Keep protests lawful and focused. The moment property is destroyed or people are intimidated, public support collapses and the message is lost.

To government: Do not answer every protest with force or dismissal. Answer with facts. If the claim is false, show the record. If it is true, correct it.

To institutions: The EC, Police and Judiciary must prove impartiality, not only in law but in practice. Perceived bias is what drives people from offices to the streets.

To citizens: Democracy is not a spectator sport. Vote. Read manifestos. Attend constituency meetings. Hold your representative to account between elections.

Conclusion

Demonstrations are not governance. They are a check on governance. A march will not by itself fix an institution. But if it leads to a court case, a parliamentary probe, and better public scrutiny, then it has served a purpose.

If it ends at a press conference, we will be back on the street with a new slogan. A healthy democracy needs both protest and process.

One without the other gives us either chaos or complacency. The crowd has made its point. The work now moves to the chambers, the courts, and the newsroom. That is where the durability of democracy is tested.

The writer, Dr. Ebenezer Arthur Duncan, is a lecturer at University of Professional Studies, Marketing Department.      

In a case involving former Goldman Sachs executive and former Managing Director of the Tema Oil Refinery (TOR) Asante Berko and Turkey’s AKSA Energy, a US jury has delivered a guilty verdict.

It has also emerged that Ghanaian law enforcement officials participated in the case.

It is alleged that monies were paid to government officials and Members of Parliament to influence the signing of the deal and its approval by Parliament.

If proven, such payments would raise serious questions about the integrity of the transaction and whether the inflated cost of the deal ultimately imposed an unfair burden on Ghanaian taxpayers.

Disturbingly, Goldman Sachs withdrew from the process after discovering that Mr Berko had allegedly gone rogue.

The company reportedly forced him to resign and referred the matter to the US Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC). Yet, despite these developments, Ghana proceeded with the deal, which was subsequently approved by Parliament.

Even more troubling is the fact that, in 2024, Mr Berko was appointed Chief Executive Officer of the Tema Oil Refinery (TOR).

One cannot help but ask: Did the Akufo-Addo government conduct adequate due diligence before making that appointment?

The Berko-AKSA case unfortunately echoes other corruption scandals that have tainted Ghana’s public life.

In 2007, a Norwegian court heard allegations that SCANCEM had paid US$4 million in bribes to Ghanaian officials, including allegations involving former President Jerry John Rawlings. The Mabey & Johnson and Bombardier cases also raised serious questions about corruption in public procurement and government contracts.

It would appear that, despite the many slogans associated with the fight against corruption, “probity and accountability,” “zero tolerance,” “protecting the public purse” and, more recently, “ORAL”, we remain reluctant to confront corruption decisively.

Article 35(8) of the 1992 Constitution states, “The State shall take steps to eradicate corrupt practices and abuse of power.” Article 218(e) and other provisions also provide a constitutional basis for combating corruption.

Yet we continue to create more rules, regulations, and institutions without adequately enforcing the ones already in existence.

Indeed, the Constitutional Review Committee’s recently released report has proposed the establishment of an Independent Anti-Corruption and Ethics Commission, which would absorb the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP). The government has accepted the proposal.

But if existing institutions are not empowered or allowed to enforce the law effectively, what assurance is there that another institution will produce a different result? Without genuine political will and enforcement, the new body, like those before it, may achieve little. Enkosi aga!

This approach to fighting corruption reminds me of a young man who had been wooing a beautiful maiden for a long time. One day, the lady called him and said, “Krakye, I want to visit you this week. When will you be home?”

The young man began to stammer: “I don’t know, I’m not sure, hmmm, haaa.”

That, in many ways, appears to be Ghana’s attitude towards corruption. We know what needs to be done, but when the moment comes to act, we hesitate.

Our problem is not primarily our Constitution or our laws. Our problem is enforcement.

The anti-corruption fight has been paralysed by partisanship, “what-aboutism” and the unfortunate reality that the watchman and the thief are sometimes the same—or closely related.

Our Constitution is three times the length of the United States Constitution. We have more than enough laws, institutions and provisions to mount a serious fight against corruption. What we lack is the consistent political will to enforce them without fear or favour.

When I sent the news about the Berko-AKSA case to Speaker Alban Bagbin, he responded, “I was the majority leader then. I will refer to the membership of the Committee on Energy to trigger an investigation into this matter.”

That is welcome.

We certainly need to know why and how Ghanaian institutions failed to prevent or address the alleged wrongdoing surrounding the transaction. But while Parliament conducts its inquiry, the anti-corruption agencies and the Attorney-General must also get to work.

If investigations establish that identifiable public officials committed crimes, they must be held accountable.

Consistent with the principles of “probity and accountability” and the promise of ORAL, let us see meaningful accountability.

As President John Evans Atta Mills did in the Mabey & Johnson case, there should also be consequences for public officials where credible evidence establishes wrongdoing. Where appropriate, officials should step aside while investigations are conducted, rather than remain in positions where they may influence the process.

As Nigeria’s celebrated anti-corruption czar, Nuhu Ribadu, once put it: “Fighting corruption is a war. In a war, you go for the big targets.”

Let us go after them.

May God bless Ghana.

The Bank of Ghana’s Domestic Gold Purchase Programme (DGPP), the scheme now folded into the Ghana Gold Board (GoldBod), lost US$1.7 billion, or 1.5 percent of Ghana’s GDP, in 2025 alone.

That is 17 cents lost for every dollar of doré gold the state sold on the international market.

This is not a rounding error. It is money that belonged to the Ghanaian people, generated from Ghanaian gold, and it disappeared into fees, discounts to exporters, and, overwhelmingly, the exchange-rate spread between what the state paid to buy gold and what it recorded on its own books.

THE NUMBERS THE IMF CONFIRMS

• 2024 losses: US$400 million (0.5% of GDP)
• 2025 losses: US$1.7 billion (1.5% of GDP), more than a four-fold increase in a single year
• Losses were “almost entirely related to G4R doré purchases”, the channel through which the state buys gold from small-scale and artisanal miners
• The cost of running the programme stood at 14.5 percent of the value of gold purchased in 2025, nearly three times the 5 percent ceiling the government itself says is acceptable.
• The Bank of Ghana’s shareholders’ equity collapsed from +GH₵6.2 billion at the end of 2021 to -GH₵93.8 billion at the end of 2025, a negative position equal to 6.7 percent of GDP

WHO IS RESPONSIBLE? THE HONEST ANSWER

IERPP will not pretend this problem was invented by the current administration. The DGPP was launched in 2021 under the previous NPP government, at the height of Ghana’s debt crisis, as an emergency tool to rebuild reserves and secure fuel imports when the country had lost access to international capital markets.

That origin is a matter of record, and IERPP has said so consistently.

But the IMF’s own data draws a hard line between then and now.

The programme’s massive scale-up, the point at which it went from a modest reserve-building tool to becoming, in the Fund’s words, the intermediary in “virtually all ASGM gold exports”, happened from 2024 into 2025, and the entirety of the $1.7 billion loss reported for 2025 was incurred under the current NDC administration.

Losses did not shrink as the country’s macroeconomic position stabilized, they quadrupled.

A government that inherited a wartime tool kept it running at wartime scale long after the emergency that justified it had passed, and the bill for that choice is $1.7 billion.

IERPP also notes that it took until November 2025, eleven months into this administration, and only with direct IMF technical assistance, for the Bank of Ghana to even adopt a transparent, pre-announced FX auction framework.

For most of 2025, the losses accumulated under the old, less transparent, ad hoc system.

THE RISK AHEAD IS BIGGER, NOT SMALLER

This is where IERPP’s concern turns from the past to the future. Under the government’s own Ghana Accelerated National Reserve Accumulation Policy (GANRAP), the authorities plan to double the volume of large-scale mine gold purchased by the state and push reserves to 15 months of import cover by 2028, more than double the six months the IMF itself assesses as adequate.

The Fund’s own estimate is that sterilising reserves at that scale will cost roughly 3 percent of GDP, up from 1 percent in 2025.

In plain terms: government is proposing to expand a programme that just lost $1.7 billion to a scale the IMF has not endorsed as necessary, at triple the sterilisation cost. Ghanaians deserve to know why.

IERPP’S DEMANDS

1. A full public accounting of the 2025 DGPP losses, broken down by fee, discount, and exchange-rate component, published by the Bank of Ghana and Ministry of Finance, not left to an IMF staff paper to surface eight months later.
2. Parliamentary scrutiny of the GANRAP reserve target and its projected sterilisation costs before any further scale-up of domestic gold purchases proceeds.
3. An independent value-for-money audit of GoldBod’s assumption of the DGPP, to confirm the promised reduction in operating costs to 5 percent of gold purchased is actually delivered and not simply relabelled.
4. Quarterly public disclosure of the spread between the forex bureau rate and the Bank of Ghana’s reference rate, given that this spread is now identified as the single largest driver of losses.
5. A clear timeline and funding commitment from government for the “transparent” absorption of DGPP costs it has promised, given the Bank of Ghana can no longer absorb losses of this size without further eroding its already deeply negative equity position.

Conclusion

Ghana’s gold wealth should be building the country’s reserves, not funding avoidable losses on gold Ghana already produces. IERPP will continue to track this issue and expects government to respond with data, not dismissal.

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Eight Ghanaians, including senior government officials — the Defence and Environment Ministers — tragically lost their lives in a helicopter crash while travelling to an event in Obuasi aimed at intensifying efforts against illegal mining.

One year after the tragedy, questions remain over what lessons the country has learnt in its quest to tackle illegal mining, which continues to threaten Ghana’s natural resources.

Their deaths shook the nation to its core. A routine national assignment ended in unimaginable loss.

For weeks, Ghanaians mourned the sudden passing of eight citizens, including cabinet ministers, who were committed to serving the country.

A helicopter carrying men and women on a mission of national importance never completed its journey.

The Defence Minister, Dr Edward Omane Boamah; the Environment Minister, Murtala Mohammed; three other government officials; and three crew members never returned.

The painful loss left behind grieving families, shattered dreams and a nation searching for meaning in tragedy.

Time has moved on, but the pain remains.

For many Ghanaians, the echoes of that tragic day continue to linger, with the memory of those who perished inspiring solemn reflection on the country’s battle against illegal mining.

The departed eight were on a national assignment as part of renewed efforts to combat illegal mining through the Responsible Cooperative Mining and Skills Development Programme (RCOMSDEP).

The initiative seeks to empower mining cooperatives and small-scale miners through training, innovation and responsible mining practices, with the goal of transforming mining into a safe, inclusive and environmentally responsible activity.

But one year after the tragedy, the question remains: has Ghana made significant progress in winning the galamsey fight?

Convener of the Coalition of Anti-Galamsey Campaigners, Ken Ashigbey, believes the sacrifices of the fallen officials must translate into meaningful action.

“Dr Omane Boamah, and what I know that he stood for and the support he gave to the Lands Minister, unfortunately we have failed them. The best tribute to have given them was to make their blood count,” he said.

While government highlights achievements in the fight against illegal mining, many rivers across the country remain polluted, with forest reserves still dotted with abandoned mining pits.

Across Ghana, particularly in the Western, Western North, Ashanti, Central, Eastern, Bono and Ahafo regions, illegal mining continues to degrade farmlands, water bodies and other natural resources.

Illegal miners continue to operate in some areas with little regard for the environment, excavating lands close to roads and within forest reserves.

A recent video circulating on social media showed some young people in a coastal community washing sand along the beach in search of gold, highlighting the extent of the challenge.

An aerial view of several water bodies across the country reveals rivers once known for their clear waters now struggling with heavy siltation and discolouration caused by mining activities.

Aquatic life and biodiversity remain threatened by the continued exploitation of natural resources.

“We have to honour their memory by doing what is right for our fight against illegal mining,” environmental journalist Erastus Asare Donkor said.

Perhaps the greatest tribute to the eight fallen heroes will not be found in wreaths, monuments or anniversary ceremonies.

It will be found in rivers that run clear again, forests that breathe once more, and a nation that finally finds the resolve to protect the environment that sustains its people.

Their mission ended in the skies above Adansi, but the journey they began remains firmly on the ground — unfinished and now entrusted to every Ghanaian.

Until the scars of galamsey fade from Ghana’s rivers and forests, August 6 will remain more than a day of mourning. It will stand as a solemn reminder that the cost of inaction can be painfully high.

Rest in power, our fallen heroes.

Damirifa due… Mmarima mma.

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