Perspectives
Does adding ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to your ChatGPT prompts really waste energy?
In this article, Richard Morris of Lincoln University, New Zealand, explores a common question among AI users worldwide: does politely saying “please” and “thank you” to ChatGPT (or other large language models) actually waste energy and increase carbon emissions? The short answer, according to the piece, is: “Yes, but only slightly,” and the impact is far smaller than many people think.
——————
Cut the words “please” and “thank you” from your next ChatGPT query and, if you believe some of the talk online, you might think you are helping save the planet.
The idea sounds plausible because AI systems process text incrementally: longer prompts require slightly more computation and therefore use more energy. OpenAI’s chief executive Sam Altman has acknowledged it all adds to operating costs at the scale of billions of prompts.
At the same time, it is a stretch to suggest that treating ChatGPT politely comes at significant environmental cost. The effect of a few extra words is negligible compared with the energy required to operate the underlying data centre infrastructure.
What is more important, perhaps, is the persistence of the idea. It suggests that many people already sense AI is not as immaterial as it appears. That instinct is worth taking seriously.
Artificial intelligence depends on large data centres built around high-density computing infrastructure. These facilities draw substantial electricity, require continuous cooling, and are embedded in wider systems of energy supply, water and land use.
As AI use expands, so does this underlying footprint. The environmental question, then, is not how individual prompts are phrased, but how frequently and intensively these systems are used.
Why every AI query carries an energy cost
One structural difference between AI and most familiar digital services helps explain why this matters.
When a document is opened or a stored video is streamed, the main energy cost has already been incurred. The system is largely retrieving existing data.
By contrast, each time an AI model is queried it must perform a fresh computation to generate a response. In technical terms, each prompt triggers a fresh “inference” – a full computational pass through the model – and that energy cost is incurred every time.
This is why AI behaves less like conventional software and more like infrastructure. Use translates directly into energy demand.
The scale of that demand is no longer marginal. Research published in the journal Science estimates that data centres already account for a significant share of global electricity consumption, with demand rising rapidly as AI workloads grow.
The International Energy Agency has warned that electricity demand from data centres could double by the end of the decade under current growth trajectories.
Electricity is only one part of the picture. Data centres also require large volumes of water for cooling, and their construction and operation involve land, materials and long-lived assets. These impacts are experienced locally, even when the services provided are global.
AI’s hidden environmental footprint
New Zealand offers a clear illustration. Its high share of renewable electricity makes it attractive to data centre operators, but this does not make new demand impact-free.
Large data centres can place significant pressure on local grids and claims of renewable supply do not always correspond to new generation being added. Electricity used to run servers is electricity not available for other uses, particularly in dry years when hydro generation is constrained.
Viewed through a systems lens, AI introduces a new metabolic load into regions already under strain from climate change, population growth and competing resource demands.
Energy, water, land and infrastructure are tightly coupled. Changes in one part of the system propagate through the rest.
This matters for climate adaptation and long-term planning. Much adaptation work focuses on land and infrastructure: managing flood risk, protecting water quality, maintaining reliable energy supply and designing resilient settlements.
Yet AI infrastructure is often planned and assessed separately, as if it were merely a digital service rather than a persistent physical presence with ongoing resource demands.
Why the myth matters
From a systems perspective, new pressures do not simply accumulate. They can drive reorganisation.
In some cases, that reorganisation produces more coherent and resilient arrangements; in others, it amplifies existing vulnerabilities. Which outcome prevails depends largely on whether the pressure is recognised early and incorporated into system design or allowed to build unchecked.
This is where discussion of AI’s environmental footprint needs to mature. Focusing on small behavioural tweaks, such as how prompts are phrased, distracts from the real structural issues.
The more consequential questions concern how AI infrastructure is integrated into energy planning, how its water use is managed, how its location interacts with land-use priorities, and how its demand competes with other social needs.
None of this implies that AI should be rejected. AI already delivers value across research, health, logistics and many other domains.
But, like any infrastructure, it carries costs as well as benefits. Treating AI as immaterial software obscures those costs. Treating it as part of the physical systems we already manage brings them into view.
The popularity of the “please” myth is therefore less a mistake than a signal. People sense AI has a footprint, even if the language to describe it is still emerging.
Taking that signal seriously opens the door to a more grounded conversation about how AI fits into landscapes, energy systems and societies already navigating the limits of adaptation.
Richard Morris, Postdoctoral Fellow, Faculty of Agriculture and Life Sciences, Lincoln University, New Zealand
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Commentary
‘One of the Most Consequential Setbacks in a Generation’: US Supreme Court Strikes Heart From Voting Rights Act
In a 6-3 decision in Louisiana v. Callais, the Court has opened the door for states to enact discriminatory voting maps, overruling decades of precedent, the text of the law, and the will of Congress.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — In a ruling that voting rights advocates are calling a devastating blow to American democracy, the U.S. Supreme Court has effectively gutted Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act (VRA), the landmark 1965 civil rights law that for six decades served as the nation’s primary legal shield against racial discrimination in elections.
The 6-3 decision in Louisiana v. Callais, handed down on April 29, 2026, strikes down a congressional map that had finally allowed Black voters in Louisiana to elect candidates of their choice, and more broadly, provides a legal roadmap for states to enact racially discriminatory voting maps so long as they claim partisan intent.
“This decision — which contradicts the text of the Voting Rights Act, the will of Congress and the Constitution — is one of the most consequential setbacks for our multiracial democracy in a generation,” said Trevor Stanley, president of Campaign Legal Center, which submitted amicus briefs in the case.
A Landmark Law, Dismantled
For sixty years, the Voting Rights Act has stood as a cornerstone of American civil rights legislation. It was enacted to dismantle the Jim Crow-era barriers that had systematically excluded Black Americans from the ballot box — literacy tests, poll taxes, and violent intimidation.
Section 2 of the VRA specifically prohibited any voting practice or procedure that results in the denial or abridgment of the right to vote on account of race or color. It allowed voters to challenge discriminatory maps and seek judicial remedies.
That protection, the Supreme Court has now ruled, has been significantly weakened.
The case originated in Louisiana, where a federal court had found that the state’s congressional map discriminated against Black voters. Louisiana was ordered to redraw its map to create an additional district where Black voters could have a meaningful opportunity to elect candidates of their choice. The state complied, adopting a map that resulted in the election of two Black Louisianians to Congress for the first time in state history.
Then a group of self-described “non-Black” voters sued, claiming the VRA-compliant map was an illegal racial gerrymander. The Supreme Court agreed.
The Loophole: ‘It’s Partisanship, Not Race’
While the majority claimed to make only minor adjustments to the legal framework for challenging discriminatory districts, voting rights experts say the decision represents a fundamental overhaul.
Going forward, voters will face new evidentiary hurdles. More critically, states can now defend against virtually any claim of racial discrimination simply by arguing that they discriminated based on political party — even when race and partisanship are nearly impossible to disentangle, particularly in the American South.
“The decision provides a roadmap for states to return to pre-1965 race discrimination in redistricting,” the Campaign Legal Center said in a statement. This is despite Congress’s repeated and overwhelming reauthorization of the Voting Rights Act, including as recently as 2006.
In practical terms, a state legislature could draw a map that systematically dilutes Black voting power — then argue in court that the map was actually designed to disadvantage Democrats, not Black voters. Under the new standard, that defense may be sufficient.
Justice Kagan’s Scathing Dissent
In a pointed dissent, Justice Elena Kagan captured the gravity of the decision, writing:
“The Voting Rights Act ushered in awe-inspiring change, bringing this Nation closer to fulfilling the ideals of democracy and racial equality. And it has been repeatedly, and overwhelmingly, reauthorized by the people’s representatives in Congress. Only they have the right to say it is no longer needed — not the Members of this Court. I dissent, then, from this latest chapter in the majority’s now-completed demolition of the Voting Rights Act.”
Kagan’s language, “now-completed demolition,” reflects a growing recognition that this ruling follows a pattern. In 2013, the Supreme Court in Shelby County v. Holder struck down Section 4 of the VRA, effectively gutting federal preclearance requirements for states with histories of discrimination. Now, the Court has neutered Section 2, the last major provision allowing private citizens to challenge discriminatory maps.
What This Means for Voters
The immediate impact will be felt most acutely in Louisiana, where the court’s ruling invalidates the map that allowed two Black representatives to serve in Congress simultaneously for the first time.
But the ruling applies nationally. Any state — particularly those with significant minority populations and histories of racial discrimination — could now adopt maps that dilute minority voting power, so long as they frame their actions in partisan terms.
“Black and brown voters who have long fought for fair representation at the federal, state and local levels will be particularly impacted,” the Campaign Legal Center warned.
The decision also leaves voters with little legal recourse. The evidentiary burdens are now higher, and the partisan-appearance defense provides states with a nearly automatic shield against Section 2 claims.
Global Implications
For international audiences, the ruling carries significant weight. The United States has long positioned itself as a global model for democratic governance and has frequently criticized other nations for electoral irregularities and the suppression of minority voting rights.
This decision undercuts that moral authority.
Democracy watchdogs around the world — from the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE) to the African Union to the European Parliament — have documented backsliding in democratic norms across multiple nations. The U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling will likely be cited as evidence that even established democracies are vulnerable to the erosion of civil rights protections.
“This is not just an American story,” said a spokesperson for a leading international democracy monitoring group. “When the world’s oldest continuous democracy weakens its own voting rights protections, it sends a signal to authoritarian-leaning governments everywhere that democratic guardrails can be removed with impunity.”
What Comes Next
While the Supreme Court’s decision is a major setback, voting rights advocates stress that the fight is not over.
Congress can act to enact new federal protections against racial and partisan discrimination in redistricting, fulfilling its role as a co-equal branch of government. Legislation to restore and strengthen the Voting Rights Act has been proposed in previous sessions, though it has stalled due to partisan gridlock.
States can also adopt their own voting rights protections. Several states — including New York, Virginia, and Colorado — have enacted State Voting Rights Acts (SVRAs) that provide protections beyond federal law. Advocates are now urging other states to follow suit.
Campaign Legal Center and other pro-democracy organizations have pledged to continue litigating, advocating, and fighting to ensure that all Americans can participate meaningfully in the democratic process.
“Every generation has faced attempts to restrict access to the ballot box, and every generation has pushed back,” the organization said. “This moment is no different.”
A Long Arc Bent Toward Justice — But Now, Bent Back?
The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. famously said that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” For voting rights advocates, that arc now appears to be bending in the opposite direction — at least in the courts.
Whether Congress or state legislatures can bend it back remains the defining question of America’s democratic future.
For now, the message from the Supreme Court is clear: the Voting Rights Act, once the backbone of federal protections against racial discrimination in elections, has been reduced to a shell. And millions of American voters, particularly Black and brown citizens, will likely pay the price
Commentary
Ghana’s AI Strategy is more than a policy, it is a declaration of digital sovereignty
In this feature commentary, George Spencer Quaye argues that Ghana’s newly launched National AI Strategy represents far more than a routine policy document; it is a deliberate “declaration of digital sovereignty” aimed at repositioning Africa from a consumer of foreign technologies to a builder and owner of intelligent systems.
Ghana’s AI Strategy is more than a policy, it is a declaration of digital sovereignty
By George Spencer Quaye
Last Friday, in Accra, Ghana did more than launch a strategy.
Under the leadership of H.E. President John Dramani Mahama, and through the stewardship of the Minister for Communications, Digital Technology and Innovation, Samuel Nartey George, the country issued what must be understood for what it truly is:
A declaration of digital sovereignty in the age of artificial intelligence.
At a time when global power is increasingly defined not by territory or raw resources, but by control over data, algorithms, and compute infrastructure, Ghana has made a strategic choice—to compete, to lead, and crucially, to own its place in the emerging AI order.
This is not a symbolic move. It is a political one.
The Politics of Intelligence
Artificial intelligence is often framed as a technological revolution. That framing is incomplete.
AI is about power.
It determines:
- Who controls knowledge
- Who shapes economic value
- Who defines truth in digital systems
- And ultimately, who governs the future
For too long, Africa has sat at the receiving end of global technological systems—importing platforms, exporting raw data, and absorbing outcomes shaped elsewhere.
That model is no longer sustainable.
Ghana’s National AI Strategy confronts this reality head-on. By committing to sovereign AI infrastructure, investing in local innovation ecosystems, and proposing governance institutions to regulate the deployment of intelligent systems, the government is signaling a break from dependency.
It is asserting that Africa must not only participate in the AI revolution—but must negotiate its terms.
From Digital Dependence to Digital Control
The implications of this shift are profound.
A National AI Computing Centre is not just infrastructure—it is strategic autonomy.
An AI Fund is not just financing—it is control over innovation direction.
A Responsible AI Authority is not just regulation—it is protection against digital subjugation.
Taken together, these moves represent an attempt to reposition Ghana—and by extension Africa—from the periphery of the digital economy to its commanding heights.
In the AI era, those commanding heights are no longer mines or oil fields.
They are data centres, algorithms, and digital infrastructure.
A Continental Imperative
Ghana’s move must not remain a national story.
It must become a continental turning point.
Because the reality is stark: if African countries do not build sovereign AI capabilities, they risk entering a new era of digital colonialism—one where decisions about African economies, societies, and governance are increasingly mediated by foreign-owned intelligent systems.
This is not alarmism. It is already happening.
From financial algorithms to content moderation systems, from credit scoring to predictive analytics, Africa is being modeled, interpreted, and influenced by systems it does not control.
Ghana’s strategy is therefore not just timely—it is necessary.
But it cannot stand alone.
From Strategy to Doctrine: The Role of MOBEX Africa
At MOBEX Africa, we view this moment as pivotal.
Our theme—“Resetting Africa’s Digital Identity and Sovereignty; From Promise to Practice”—was conceived around the recognition that Africa must move from digital participation to digital control.
The launch of Ghana’s AI Strategy validates that thesis.
But validation is not enough. What is required now is coordination, alignment, and execution at scale.
At the upcoming MOBEX Africa Tech Innovation Conference, we will:
- Interrogate national AI strategies and their readiness for implementation
- Convene policymakers, regulators, and industry leaders to define governance frameworks
- Showcase real-world applications of AI in public systems
- Advance the development of an Accra Declaration on AI Sovereignty
The Test Ahead
Commendation is deserved.
The leadership shown by President Mahama, Minister Sam George, and the Government of Ghana in taking this bold, forward-looking step must be acknowledged.
But strategy is only the beginning.
The real challenge lies ahead:
- Can Ghana build and sustain world-class AI infrastructure?
- Can it develop and retain the talent required to power it?
- Can it regulate effectively without stifling innovation?
- Can it bring the private sector along as a true partner?
These questions will determine whether this moment becomes a milestone—or a missed opportunity.
A Moment That Must Define a Generation
Africa stands at a crossroads.
One path leads to continued dependence—where the continent consumes technologies it neither owns nor controls.
The other leads to sovereignty—where Africa builds, governs, and benefits from its own intelligent systems.
Ghana has chosen the latter.
Now the task is to ensure that choice is not isolated, but replicated, scaled, and sustained across the continent.
Because in the age of artificial intelligence, sovereignty will not be declared in speeches.
It will be built in systems.
About the author
George Spencer Quaye is the founder and Chief Executive Officer of MOBEX Africa. He is a governance and digital transformation strategist, public policy commentator and board-level leader. He writes on leadership, political reform and Africa’s development trajectory. He’s currently serving as the Chairman of the Governing Board of the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority.
Opinion
Surrogacy in Ghana: Legal parenthood, registration, and the rights of the surrogate
Ghana’s legal framework for surrogacy has evolved with the passage of the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 2020 (Act 1027), which, for the first time, provides statutory recognition and a mechanism, through High Court parental orders, for regularizing parentage in assisted reproductive arrangements. However, in this article by Joseph Ackah-Blay argues that while this represents progress, Ghana still lacks a coherent and comprehensive legal regime for surrogacy.
Surrogacy in Ghana: Legal parenthood, registration, and the rights of the surrogate
By Joseph Ackah-Blay, Esq.
Surrogacy is no longer a novelty in Ghana. More families are turning to it. More clinics are facilitating it. More lawyers are being asked to structure it. The law, for its part, has started to respond. But only just. It is no longer entirely correct to say Ghana has no law on surrogacy. That position, while once accurate, no longer reflects the statutory landscape. Yet it would be equally wrong to suggest that Ghana now has a coherent and comprehensive legal regime governing assisted reproduction. It does not. What we have instead is something in between: statutory recognition without full regulation; legislative movement without complete legislative architecture.
That framework is found principally in the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 2020 (Act 1027). Through it, Parliament has for the first time given express statutory recognition to assisted reproductive births and created a mechanism through which parentage arising from surrogacy may be regularised. That is progress. But progress and completion are not the same thing.
The Constitutional Framework
The 1992 Constitution says nothing directly about surrogacy. That is hardly surprising. The Constitution predates the modern fertility industry and was never drafted with assisted reproductive technology in mind. Still, constitutional principles remain relevant.
Article 15(1) provides that: “The dignity of all persons shall be inviolable.”
That matters. It places constitutional limits on how surrogate mothers may be treated, what may be demanded of them, and how far contractual arrangements may go. The Constitution also speaks to the welfare of children. Article 28(1)(a) requires legislative protection for children, while section 2 of the Children’s Act, 1998 (Act 560) reiterates the settled principle that the best interests of the child shall be paramount in any matter concerning a child. These principles will almost certainly frame any judicial consideration of a surrogacy dispute if and when one comes before the courts.
What the Law Now Provides
The centrepiece of Ghana’s present surrogacy framework is section 22 of Act 1027. It creates a statutory process through which intended parents and surrogate mothers may apply to the High Court for orders relating to legal parentage in assisted reproductive arrangements. The provision contemplates both pre-birth and post-birth applications.
Under section 22(2), an intended parent may apply within twelve weeks after the introduction of the embryo or gamete into the surrogate for what is, in substance, a pre-birth parental order. If satisfied as to the evidence of parentage and the existence of the surrogacy arrangement, the High Court may direct that the intended parent, the surrogate, or both be named as the legal parent or parents of the child. This requirement kicks in if the birth occurs within twenty-eight weeks of the order.
Where no such order is obtained before birth, the Act permits a further application after birth for a parental or substitute parentage order, upon which the Court may direct the registration or re-registration of the child’s birth accordingly. This post-birth order must be requested for earlier than twenty-eight days after birth and not later than six months after birth. Such an order is treated in the form of an adoption proceeding. An important point worth noting is that where a substitute parentage order is granted, the original birth record is struck out, sealed and kept confidential, and the child gains a right to access it at the age of twenty-one.
Without such an order, the default statutory position is plain enough: the woman who gives birth is to be registered as the mother of the child. That is no small development. It is the first serious legislative acknowledgment that surrogacy exists within Ghanaian family life and requires legal accommodation. But this acknowledgment is not clarity. The courts have not yet had much opportunity to develop jurisprudence on section 22. How precisely the provision will operate in contested or difficult cases remains to be seen.
The Contract Matters
Surrogacy arrangements are typically reduced into writing between intended parents and the surrogate. That is prudent. Indeed, it is essential. Such agreements usually address parentage, medical care, compensation, confidentiality, and consent to subsequent legal processes. Still, a surrogacy agreement should not be mistaken for a complete legal solution. It may record intention. It may regulate expectations. It may provide evidence. But no Ghanaian statute presently provides that such an agreement, by itself, conclusively determines legal parentage. Nor have the courts definitively pronounced on the extent to which such agreements may be enforced in the event of dispute. The contract is important. It simply is not everything.
When the Surrogate Is Married
Things become more complicated where the surrogate is married. Under section 32 of the Evidence Act, 1975 (N.R.C.D. 323), a child born during a marriage is presumed to be the child of the husband of the mother. The presumption is rebuttable. But unless rebutted, it remains the legal starting point. Its practical implication is obvious enough: where a married surrogate carries a child, her husband may presumptively occupy the position of legal father unless the appropriate legal and evidential steps are taken to establish otherwise. That is one reason lawyers may advise on the husband’s participation in the relevant documentation and legal process where applicable.
What of Adoption?
Before Act 1027, adoption was commonly used in practice to regularize parentage after surrogacy arrangements. Whether that remains necessary in every case is no longer entirely clear. Section 22 of ACT 1027 has changed the landscape. To what extent it has displaced adoption as the principal route to legal parenthood in surrogacy matters is a question the courts are yet to answer with any real precision. For now, the relationship between the parental-order mechanism under Act 1027 and the adoption framework under the Children’s Act remains a developing one.
The Surrogate Is Not Merely a Vessel
In public discourse, discussions of surrogacy often focus almost entirely on intended parents. The surrogate is treated as incidental to the arrangement. Legally, she is not. She remains a rights-bearing actor throughout the process. She retains bodily autonomy. No law authorises intended parents to compel her to undergo treatment, submit to procedures, or make reproductive decisions against her will. She retains dignity protections under Article 15(1). And until the statutory process under Act 1027 is completed, the precise contours of her legal position remain, in several respects, underdeveloped in Ghanaian jurisprudence. That uncertainty is not merely theoretical. It has practical implications for everyone involved.
Outstanding Work
Act 1027 is a meaningful beginning. It is not a finished framework. Other jurisdictions have gone considerably further. South Africa, for example, requires judicial confirmation of surrogate motherhood agreements before conception under Chapter 19 of its Children’s Act 38 of 2005.
The United Kingdom provides a dedicated parental-order regime under section 54 of the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 2008. Ghana, by contrast, still lacks a dedicated assisted reproduction statute, detailed procedural rules for surrogacy applications, and developed jurisprudence on the operation of its existing provisions.
The law has begun to speak. It has not yet said enough.
Conclusion
Surrogacy now sits within Ghana’s statutory framework. That much is clear. What remains less clear is how far that framework goes, how the courts will interpret it, and whether it is sufficient for the realities of a growing assisted reproduction industry. Act 1027 has moved the law forward. It has not completed the journey. Until the courts provide fuller guidance or Parliament enacts a more comprehensive legislative scheme, surrogacy in Ghana will remain an area of legal recognition attended by legal uncertainty. And where the law is uncertain, caution is not optional. It is essential.
Joseph Ackah-Blay is an Associate at Renaissance Law Chambers, where he advises on corporate, commercial, regulatory, IT law and private legal matters. He writes generally on law, governance, and emerging legal issues. He holds a B.A., LL.B and QCL. He can be reached at j.ackahblay74@gmail.com
-
Global Update13 hours agoThese Twins Were Born Minutes Apart, But Have Different Dads; The Truth Tore One Sister Apart.
-
Festivals & Events2 days agoKATON Praise 2026: Accra Prepares for a Night of Music, Faith, and Global Stars
-
Africa Watch13 hours agoGhana Sends Envoy to Calm Nerves as Anti-Migration Groups Rally in Pretoria and Johannesburg
-
Taste GH2 days agoSpiced, Wrapped, and Loved: Ghana’s Ongoing Affair with Shawarma
-
Ghana News14 hours agoDiasporans Petition Ghana’s President Over ‘Unpredictable, Costly, and Exclusionary’ Citizenship Process
-
Homes & Real Estate1 day agoFour Days to Decide: Why House Hunting in Accra Takes Longer Than You Think
-
Festivals & Events1 day agoWoven in Glass: Where Kente Heritage Meets Contemporary Art in Accra
-
Ghana News12 hours agoGhana Launches Push to Force Action on Slavery Reparations
