Author: Opanyin Abrampah Oppong
The recent admission of guilt by John Dramani Mahama that members of his own political tradition are complicit in galamsey is not a moment of courage—it is a troubling confession of failure dressed up as honesty.
It confirms what many Ghanaians have long suspected: that political will, not complexity, is the real missing ingredient in the fight against illegal mining.
For years, the narrative has been one of lamentation—long speeches, public concern, and carefully worded acknowledgments. Yet, the rivers remain polluted, forests continue to vanish, and communities suffer.
Now, with this admission, it is evident that the rot is not external but internal, deeply embedded within the political machinery itself.
When a leader openly states that “we have our own people involved,” it raises a fundamental question: what exactly has prevented decisive action?
Leadership is not merely about diagnosing a problem; it is about confronting it, especially when it implicates one’s own allies.
The statement suggests a troubling tolerance. By acknowledging wrongdoing within his own ranks without immediately pairing it with concrete punitive action, Mahama risks appearing complicit through inaction.
The problem is not ignorance—it is unwillingness. The National Democratic Congress, like any major political party, thrives on loyalty networks. But when those networks become shields for environmental destruction, they cease to be political assets and instead become national liabilities.
Galamsey is not a victimless crime. It poisons water bodies, destroys arable land, and jeopardizes public health.
To describe it as merely “difficult to tackle” without demonstrating urgency or decisive internal discipline is to trivialize its devastating consequences.
Mahama’s remarks at Jubilee House highlight the scale of the issue, but they also expose a leadership paradox: acknowledging a crisis while appearing paralyzed by it.
A president cannot afford to sound like an observer in a crisis he is expected to resolve.
There is also an element of political convenience in the framing. By emphasizing that galamsey cuts across parties and traditional authorities, responsibility becomes diluted.
While this may be factually accurate, it risks becoming an excuse for inaction rather than a call for broader accountability.
The claim that illegal miners simply switch political allegiance when governments change is particularly damning. It suggests that enforcement is not based on law, but on political patronage—a system where accountability is negotiable.
If this is indeed the case, then the issue goes beyond illegal mining; it becomes a question of governance integrity. A system where criminals can “rebrand” themselves politically to avoid consequences is fundamentally broken.
Mahama’s continued emphasis on the difficulty of the fight may resonate as realism, but to many citizens, it sounds like resignation. Leadership demands resolve, not repeated reminders of obstacles.
The mention of resistance from communities and local actors is valid, but it is not new. Every serious reform effort encounters resistance.
What distinguishes effective leadership is the ability to overcome that resistance through policy, enforcement, and public trust—not to be stalled by it.
Equally concerning is the attempt to link galamsey to economic hardship in the cocoa sector. While there is truth in the economic pressures faced by farmers, this line of reasoning risks justifying environmental destruction as an economic alternative.
Economic hardship does not legitimize illegal activity, especially one with irreversible ecological consequences.
Addressing cocoa pricing issues should be a parallel policy effort, not an explanatory cushion for lawlessness. The broader issue here is credibility.
A leader who acknowledges wrongdoing within his own camp but fails to demonstrate visible disciplinary action risks losing moral authority. Words alone cannot restore polluted rivers.
Ghanaians are not merely looking for admissions—they are demanding accountability. Who are these “our own people”?
What actions have been taken against them? Without answers, the statement remains hollow.
There is also a growing perception that political elites treat galamsey as a manageable nuisance rather than a national emergency.
This perception is reinforced every time rhetoric replaces enforcement. Mahama’s stance, as presented, risks reinforcing cynicism among citizens.
It feeds the belief that political connections offer protection, and that laws are selectively applied.
If the president is serious about tackling galamsey, the starting point must be internal cleansing. Publicly identifying and prosecuting party affiliates involved would send a stronger message than any speech ever could.
Anything short of that will continue to look like political theater—an exercise in appearing concerned while avoiding uncomfortable confrontations within his own ranks.
In the end, the fight against galamsey is not just about excavators and river pollution; it is about leadership integrity. And right now, Mahama’s own words have exposed a gap between acknowledgment and action—a gap that Ghana can no longer afford.
