Commentary
The Draft NITA Bill Should be Shredded
In this analytical critique, Bright Simons argues that Ghana’s proposed draft NITA Bill represents a dangerous overreach that would transform the National Information Technology Agency (NITA) from a coordinating ICT agency into a sweeping digital-sector regulator with unprecedented powers. Simons warns that the bill goes far beyond licensing IT professionals—it would grant NITA authority over ICT infrastructure, cloud services, SaaS platforms, public-sector technology procurement, professional certification, business premises, mergers, ownership structures (including a controversial citizen-only ownership clause), audits, sanctions, and enforcement powers including closure and seizure of assets. Simons contends that while Ghana certainly needs reforms to address public-sector procurement indiscipline and support local tech innovation, the current draft fails catastrophically by attempting to regulate a dynamic, AI-driven sector through rigid licensing frameworks that do not account for the diversity of ICT occupations—from laptop repairers to AI-assisted developers.
Read the full analysis below.
The Draft NITA Bill Should be Shredded
By Bright Simons
One of Ghana’s veteran business journalists, now based in New York, reached out and asked if I have been following the NITA bill debate. Sadly, I hadn’t. Too much going on.
He pressed, subtly but firmly, so I did.
I appreciate the ambition of the current management at the Ministry. I am sure they want their names in neon above Black Star Square. But there is a serious katanomic odour blowing from the bill they are promoting.
They would do well to assemble a group of truly independent tech folks from the ICT chamber, not just a bunch of their friends, listen hard, talk less, and take the advice. If they did, they would gut that manuscript and return to the drawing board.
Here is why, based on my quick take on the bill.
Bottom line
The Ministry of Communications, Digital Technology, & Innovations (MOC) does not merely appear to be proposing to “license IT professionals.”
The draft NITA Bill is much bigger. The plan is to convert NITA from a coordinating ICT agency into a broad digital-sector regulator with powers over ICT infrastructure, cloud, SaaS, digital platforms, public-sector technology procurement, professional certification, business premises, mergers, ownership, standards, audits, sanctions, and even the structure of government digital infrastructure. It is a wholesale revamp.
No one would have quarrelled with the bill if it had focused on the big problems in the sector: public sector procurement indiscipline and a lack of incentives for R&D and support for local tech innovations.
Ghana certainly needs improved standards and practices in digital assurance, interoperability, and accountability for critical systems (already captured in the “critical infrastructure” policy).
The katanomics arise when instead of learning from national mistakes and proposing workable solutions, one jumps the process to venture into a whole range of areas where the country absolutely lack policy experience.
- MOC’s Proposals
The draft/consultation bill proposes as follows:
A stronger NITA “Authority”
The Bill would establish NITA as a regulatory authority for ICT and digital services, with objects including regulation, coordination, promotion, standards, licensing, certification, interoperability, digital innovation, and public-sector ICT personnel management.
Mandatory licensing of ICT business activity
Section 35 (the bombshell that has sparked so much controversy). It says no person may engage in business or a related activity in the ICT sector unless granted a licence. It expressly includes installation of ICT infrastructure, development or provision of ICT products and services, and activities requiring licensing or certification. Doing any of these without a license could get one jailed, or at best fined.
Who is to be licensed?
Section 36 lists categories such as public/commercial ICT infrastructure, cloud hosting, SaaS providers, government digital services partnerships, national digital platform operators, data centre operators, and any other category the Authority later determines.
Citizen-only ownership qualification
Section 37 says a licence applicant must be an adult Ghanaian citizen, or a company/partnership/association/body “wholly owned by a citizen.” Essentially, it would now be illegal to engage remote experts to work on a system deployed in Ghana. Essentially, half the whiz kids in Silicon Valley would have been ineligible to build their genius gizmos had America had a law like this.
Certification of ICT professionals
Section 46 says a person shall not be appointed as an ICT professional in a public or private institution unless certified by the Authority, and that NITA shall determine the criteria and procedure. (Funnily, this contradicts the definitions section where “certified professional” is confined to the public sector.)
Closure, seizure, suspension and enforcement powers
NITA could close premises or facilities, seize ICT products/equipment, suspend business, revoke licences, and impose administrative penalties in specified circumstances.
M&A and business-structure control
Section 49 appears to require NITA approval before sale, transfer, merger, amalgamation, or alteration of the nature of an ICT service provider’s business.
There are also some less controversial proposals about setting up a special purpose national e-government vehicle, promoting transparency and interoperability, and preventing vendor lock-in.
Let’s focus, however, on the areas of the Bill that have rankled so many ICT professionals and would clearly not have seen the light of the day if the Ministry bosses had done any serious sounding beyond their clique.
- What do they mean by “ICT professional” anyway?
“IT/ICT professional” is not like “nurse,” “electrician,” “lawyer,” “chartered accountant,” or “professional engineer.” Those occupations usually have a more defined body of practice, recognised training path, public-risk rationale, and a reserved act or protected title.
“ICT” and “IT” are very loose umbrella terms. International occupational systems do not treat ICT as one unified profession. The International Standard Classification of Occupations classifies jobs by skill level and specialisation, not by one vague “IT professional” identity.
Eurostat and O*NET both list many distinct computer and mathematical occupations within that bracket: software developers, network architects, cybersecurity analysts, database administrators, web developers, data scientists, support specialists, QA testers, IT project managers, and many more.
Is the government of Ghana going to insist on licensing every single person in Ghana who builds a website, uses Microsoft Power BI to create some charts for a company, or deploys mermaid to craft some flyers for an event organiser?
The whole idea is totally ridiculous.
A more sensible approach would be to pry open the ICT chest open and only target the most critical functions. Example:
Critical Public Digital Infrastructure management (with a clear and rigorous process properly defined as to how any system gets to be elevated to that status to begin with);
Financial services cybersecurity auditing;
Tier II & III datacenter operations;
Public hospital digital health network administration;
Public ERP procurement readiness certtification.
The bill could then have said that for those functions, licensed professionals are required. The licensing regime would then have been constructed in an industry-led fashion much like we have in leading accounting jurisdictions. Frankly, the civil service is the last place to situate licensing for a dynamic sector like ICT.
More importantly, under no circumstances should any government aspire to poke its long nose into stuff like “writing code,” “installing a router,” “maintaining a school website,” “handling some graphic design,” “being a product manager at a food delivery company,” “using AI to generate a UI for a service,” or “working in an IT department of a small law firm.” The risks are not national-scale and employers should be left to manage their own personnel validation.
- Ghanaian laws already provide some protection
A standard feature of Katanomics is to pile laws upon laws without much effort being spent on reviewing how the current laws are performing, why gaps, if any, have formed, and what the lessons really teach.
The Cybersecurity Act creates a targeted licensing/accreditation regime for cybersecurity service providers, establishments, professionals and practitioners. That makes sense because cybersecurity services can create high systemic risk, and the Act contains a specific institutional mandate around cyber protection. If that has not stopped fraud in banks and telcos, there is a need to enhance our understanding and respond accordingly.
The Data Protection Act regulates controllers and processors of personal data, requires registration, imposes security obligations, requires written processor arrangements, and provides breach-notification duties. If the Data Protection Commission is only taken fees and isn’t really measuring up, the right approach is to fix it.
The Engineering Council could decide to create top-tier categories for “software engineering,” as well as hardware and electronic engineering if it aims to elevate the field. It already has the pedigree and legal infrastructure to proceed if it deems the time right.
- But don’t other countries already do this?
Well, some have tried but the lessons are worth taking.
Nigeria, for instance. The Computer Professionals Registration Council of Nigeria was created under a 1993 law and has a broad mandate over persons and organisations providing computing professional services.
The arrangement in Nigeria has gone nowhere. The country still has a huge informal and startup-driven tech sector. In practice, broad computing-profession regulation tends to become procurement gatekeeping, dues, professional conferences, anti-“quackery” rhetoric, and credential signalling. It has generated nothing of clear value to the sector.
Canada shows a narrower and more legally coherent model. Engineering regulators restrict titles such as “software engineer,” “computer engineer,” and “firmware engineer” where those titles imply professional engineering. But even there, regulators recognise that not all software development is software engineering. The Canadian fights over “software engineer” titles show how hard it is to map old professional-engineering concepts onto modern tech labour markets.
The United States tried a software-engineering professional-engineer exam pathway. The software engineering PE exam was first offered in 2013 and discontinued after 2019 because candidate numbers were too low.
Almost everywhere else, the approach has been to rely more on voluntary professional bodies, chartered status, competence frameworks, sector standards, procurement rules, data protection, cyber regulation, product regulation, and critical-infrastructure obligations. In many of these contexts and jurisdictions, industry associations take the lead.
- It can get absurd pretty quickly
Meanwhile, AI has thrown a wrench into the whole wheel of what “IT work” even means today. m
In the pre-AI world, one might imagine a recognisable “software developer” writing code manually. In the AI world, a founder describes an app to a model, a non-technical employee uses AI to build an internal workflow, a designer generates front-end code, a business analyst deploys automations, and a cloud platform assembles infrastructure through templates. Who is the “ICT professional” here? The geography graduate with a few hours on reddit and stackoverflow under her belt typing out prompts? The AI tool vendor? The person who clicks deploy? The person who reviews the code? The company using the system?
A licensing regime based on “professional identity” will clash with AI-generated work because AI diffuses technical production across the entire economy. The more powerful AI gets, the less realistic it becomes to require every producer of digital functionality to hold a state-issued ICT license. Once again, if the Ministry had engaged beyond their small clique, everyone would have told them.
- Hardware, networking and informality
On the physical device and network level, the absurdity start to get out of hand.
Ghana’s ICT economy is not made up of just software startups. It includes laptop repairers, phone technicians, CCTV installers, router vendors, fibre/cabling contractors, school computer-lab maintainers, POS support agents, small network installers, market traders selling peripherals, informal refurbished-device dealers, cybercafé operators, church/media livestream technicians, and thousands of small businesses that keep digital life functioning. All these people are using ICT and making a living in the ICT-enabled economy.
If enforced aggressively, the scheme could:
raise the cost of basic repairs and installations;
push informal technicians further underground;
create opportunities for inspectors and middlemen to extract bribes;
make small businesses operate through “certified” fronts;
reduce access to affordable hardware support in rural and low-income areas;
increase e-waste if repair markets are chilled;
make public-sector maintenance more expensive by reducing the pool of eligible providers.
It is a whole mess, and must be reined in before it transmutes from panic to catastrophe.
- And the MESS doesn’t end there
The citizen-only ownership clause is potentially devastating. A Ghanaian startup with foreign VC, non-citizen co-founders, regional holding structures, offshore investors, or employee stock held by non-citizens may struggle if licensed ICT activity requires wholly citizen ownership. This may be more economically explosive than the “IT professionals” headline.
NITA, the Cyber Security Authority, Data Protection Commission, National Communications Authority, Bank of Ghana, Ghana Standards Authority, Public Procurement Authority, GIPC, Engineering Council, and sector regulators may all touch the same digital product. A fintech, for example, could face payment regulation, data protection registration, cybersecurity obligations, NITA licensing, cloud/data-centre requirements, and public procurement rules. The cost of doing business is already too high. Don’t make it worse!
The Bill includes criminal offences, administrative penalties, licence suspension, business prohibition, closure, seizure, and penalties for negligent cybersecurity breaches or false certification claims. Some of that is justified for critical misconduct, but excessive criminalisation can chill innovation and incident reporting.
Now imagine:
A small NGO building a data-collection app could be treated as developing/providing an ICT product.
A small periurban school near Techiman appointing a self-taught but competent ICT teacher or network administrator could run into the Section 46 certification requirement if “ICT professional” is read broadly.
A startup adding cloud hosting, AI features, or platform functionality might need to ask whether it has changed the “nature” of its ICT business and needs approval.
A Ghanaian founder could be treated less favourably after raising foreign investment than before raising it.
An AI-assisted non-programmer could produce useful code, while a formally certified but incompetent person is legally privileged.
Even worse:
The merger/alteration approval clause is dangerous because it turns ordinary corporate switches into a whole regulatory fanfare. Startup pivots, acquisitions, restructurings and investment rounds depend on speed and certainty.
More licensing layers are likely to lead to slower product launches, especially in already tough fields like fintech. Think also about the higher legal costs, and more uncertainty for firms already dealing with Bank of Ghana, data protection, cybersecurity and AML obligations.
Paradoxically, overregulation can weaken cybersecurity. Small operators may avoid registration, breach reporting, or formal contracts because contact with the regulator feels dangerous.
Conversely, employers may over-apply the law and require NITA certification for analysts, IT support, product managers, data officers, website administrators, and junior developers, even where the legal risk is unclear.
Moreover, Ghana participates in regional and continental liberalisation frameworks, including ECOWAS free movement/establishment principles and AfCFTA services liberalisation. A broad citizen-only ICT licensing scheme may create avoidable trade and investment friction, even if Ghana retains policy space to regulate for legitimate objectives.
It is true that the Bill creates an appeals tribunal, but the tribunal is appointed through ministerial processes and funded through the NITA’s funds. Appeals to the Court of Appeal, on the other hand, are limited to points of law. That may be insufficient for a regime with such heavy commercial consequences.
- A better law might look something like this
The Bill should be rewritten around regulated activities, not “IT professionals.”
The following quick fixes would be a good start:
- Replace the broad Section 35 ban with a schedule of licensable high-risk ICT activities: public & sensitive commercial digital infrastructure, critical data centres, public cloud for government/critical sectors, critical SaaS for public services, cybersecurity-sensitive operations, and national platform operators.
- Rewrite Section 46 so certification applies only to defined risk roles: public-sector chief information/security officers, critical infrastructure administrators, certified ICT auditors, digital identity administrators, public procurement sign-off professionals, and cybersecurity-sensitive roles. For everyone else, use voluntary certification or title protection.
- Add exemptions for employees doing internal work, students, hobbyists, open-source contributors, micro repairers, ordinary retail sales, internal IT departments, low-risk website/app development, and small businesses below clear thresholds.
- Remove or radically narrow the citizen-only ownership rule. Use public-procurement preferences, local-capacity requirements, security vetting for sensitive contracts, and Ghanaian participation incentives instead of a blanket nationality-based ownership restriction.
- Limit transaction approvals to changes of control of high-risk licensees. Do not require approval for ordinary pivots, product changes, share issuances, acquisitions outside sensitive categories, or internal restructuring.
- Create a lead-regulator rule. If the CSA, DPC, NCA, Bank of Ghana or another regulator already licenses the core risk, NITA should coordinate through memoranda and joint standards, rather than duplicating permissions.
- Hardwire the due process in. The Bill should require that there should be published criteria, fee caps, timelines, deemed approvals where appropriate, written reasons, appeal stays except in emergencies, warrant requirements for seizure except imminent-risk cases, and compensation for wrongful closure.
- Build an AI-specific assurance layer. Require secure development practices, AI-use documentation, human review for high-risk systems, logging, testing, model/data governance, incident reporting and audit trails. Avoid creating an “outmoded at birth” bill because of a failure to take AI into account.
- Be sensitive to the informal economy. Ensure long transition periods, recognition of prior learning, apprenticeship routes, low-cost micro-certification, mobile registration, district-level support, and no criminal enforcement for low-risk actors during transition.
- Require a regulatory impact assessment before commencement. The government should publish expected costs, affected occupations, SME effects, competition analysis, trade implications, institutional overlaps, enforcement budget, and anti-corruption safeguards.
- Conclusion: the Ministry is off the bar but they can have another go
- A careful NITA law could be one of Ghana’s most anti-katanomic and groundbreaking digital economy reforms. Especially if it focuses on fixing wasteful, opaque, and pooly thought through public ICT procurement.
But a careless version could become a massive burden on the heads of a struggling, still nascent, technology sector. The draft bill tilts more to the latter than the former.
The MOC should get off its high horse while there is still time, abandon the bill in its current form, return to the drawing board, and come back with something more aligned with modern realities.
Bright Simons is a Ghanaian technologist, social innovator, entrepreneur, writer, social and political commentator. He is the vice-president, in charge of research at IMANI Centre for Policy and Education. He is also the founder and president of mPedigree.
Commentary
‘The Sahel Juntas and the Crisis of Legitimacy’ by Joseph McCarthy
Between 2020 and 2023, military juntas seized power across Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, promising to defeat jihadist insurgencies that civilian governments had failed to contain. Years later, the security situation has deteriorated rather than improved, with insurgents breaching heavily fortified installations and expanding territorial control. Meanwhile, elections have been indefinitely postponed under the pretext of insecurity, and military rulers have deepened their alignment with Russia to escape external pressure for democratic transitions. This analysis examines the legitimacy crisis facing the Sahel’s juntas, arguing that governments which justify their rule solely through security outcomes cannot survive when those outcomes fail to materialize. This article explores the fragility of military authority in the absence of electoral mandate, the geopolitical calculations driving alignment with Moscow, and the consequences for millions of citizens living with displacement, closed schools and expanding insurgent control.
The Sahel Juntas and the Crisis of Legitimacy
By Joseph McCarthy
When soldiers seized power across the Sahel between 2020 and 2023, they offered strikingly similar justifications. Civilian governments, they argued, had failed to protect their citizens from the advancing threat of Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) and the Islamic State Sahel Province (ISSP), despite years of support from France, the United Nations, the European Union and the United States. Military rule, the argument went, would succeed where democratic politics had not: it would restore state authority, defeat the insurgents and, only then, return power to civilians. Years later, the region’s security landscape raises an uncomfortable question. Has military rule delivered on that promise, and what happens to a government’s legitimacy when it has not?
The pattern of coups was remarkably consistent. In Mali, Assimi Goïta removed President Ibrahim Boubacar Keïta in August 2020, citing the army’s inability to control large parts of the north and centre. In Burkina Faso, Paul-Henri Sandaogo Damiba overthrew President Roch Marc Christian Kaboré in January 2022 on similar grounds, only to be removed himself eight months later by Ibrahim Traoré, who argued that Damiba’s own counterterrorism record was too slow. In Niger, Abdourahamane Tiani deposed President Mohamed Bazoum in July 2023, insisting that a new approach to security was needed despite Bazoum having achieved relative gains against jihadist groups. In each case, the message was the same: only military leadership could act with the speed and decisiveness that civilian rule could not.

The record since then complicates that claim. In June 2026, JNIM fighters breached Diori Hamani International Airport in Niamey. This is one of Niger’s most heavily fortified installations, housing the air force, military drones, the headquarters of the Alliance of Sahel States’ joint force, and Russian personnel. In April, coordinated attacks across Mali, including in Kati, revealed an insurgency that has grown more sophisticated rather than less, even as military governments have intensified their campaigns. Large swathes of northern and central Mali, eastern Burkina Faso and western Niger remain outside effective state control. Millions of people are displaced, schools and clinics have shut down across rural areas, and food insecurity continues to rise. Perhaps most tellingly, JNIM has moved beyond pure military operations in parts of the territory it contests, reportedly collecting taxes, mediating local disputes and enforcing its own rules, functions that amount to governance. For juntas that justified their rule by promising to restore the state’s authority, this is a difficult reality to reconcile.
None of this has produced elections. Goïta has repeatedly extended Mali’s transition, arguing that voting while the country remains insecure would undermine its credibility. Traoré has pushed Burkina Faso’s elections back to 2029. Tiani has likewise announced a prolonged transition in Niger, citing the need for stability before any return to civilian rule. In each case, insecurity, the very problem the juntas promised to solve, has become the justification for indefinitely postponing the democratic process that was meant to follow.
This is where the deepening alignment with Moscow matters. Russian foreign policy in the region, delivered first through the Wagner Group and now the Africa Corps, has emphasised sovereignty, executive authority and non-interference rather than electoral timetables. Unlike France and other Western partners, who after the 2020 and 2021 coups pushed for sanctions and rapid transitions back to constitutional rule through ECOWAS, Russia has attached no such conditions to its military assistance. That gives the juntas diplomatic cover and security backing without the external pressure that once accompanied Western partnerships, making prolonged military rule more sustainable in the short term.
But sustainability is not the same as legitimacy. Governments that seize power through force cannot draw on the ballot box or constitutional continuity to justify their authority. Instead, they rely on a narrower and more fragile bargain: deliver security, and the question of legitimacy can wait. That bargain depends entirely on results. It is not clear that the juntas are delivering them.
This is the vulnerability now facing Goïta, Traoré and Tiani. The argument that brought each of them to power, that civilian rule had failed to stop the violence and military leadership would not, is the same argument that can be turned against them if the violence continues to escalate under their watch. A partnership with Russia may insulate these governments from external pressure to hold elections. Still, it cannot insulate them from the judgement of their own citizens, who continue to live with displacement, closed schools and expanding insurgent control. If security remains the sole justification for indefinitely concentrating political power, then the failure to secure it becomes the sole justification for questioning that power. The Sahel’s juntas are not simply fighting insurgents. They are running out of time to prove that their original argument for seizing power still holds.
Joseph McCarthy is an analyst and researcher specialising in governance, security and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, development and African diplomacy. joecarthy30@gmail.com
Commentary
What Ghana’s World Cup ‘juju man’ tells us about sport and spirituality in Africa

Ayodeji Ogunnaike, McGill University
One of the most notable figures of the 2026 FIFA World Cup emerged during Ghana’s first match of the tournament: the “juju man,” Kailani Ibrahim Kpa, who was famously seen blowing white powder into the air during the game.
Another Ghanaian, Nana Kwaku Bonsam, went viral just before the match for claiming to have placed a curse on England’s captain, Harry Kane. Bonsam is a particularly media-savvy Twi traditional priest and one of the most recognizable faces of what is commonly called “witchcraft” or “juju” in African soccer.
Juju quickly became a topic of conversation and fascination for millions of soccer fans around the world, particularly after Kane failed to score and the match ended in a draw.
Although it may seem strange to westerners, soccer and esoteric rituals go hand in hand in Africa. One infamous video from Rwanda that regularly circulates on African group chats shows a striker failing to score, snatching a “charm” from inside the goal and subsequently scoring.
Ghanaians in particular have a long history of leveraging the spiritual side of sports. Former captain André Ayew scattered a ritual powder on the pitch in 2012, and Bonsam himself announced he cursed Portugal’s Cristiano Ronaldo ahead of the 2014 World Cup.
This blending of spirituality and sport can be easy for westerners to misinterpret or dismiss as simple superstition. This is particularly true when spiritual fraudsters try to make money by promising to help teams win and their predictions do not come true.
However, Africans are not backwards or simple-minded. Foreign academics and even colonial officials with first-hand experience with African spiritual arts have been surprised by how effective they are at achieving their intended results.
Fortunately, we also now have excellent written accounts from Africans about the power and logic behind Indigenous knowledge and ritual systems.
African knowledge systems
Western society has developed in a context that often seeks to define and establish separate religious and secular aspects of life. However, African knowledge systems generally treat what we might call science, religion, medicine and art as parts of a unified whole.
What westerners may call “religion” is often integrated into every aspect of African life, and it is more helpful to reconceptualize its relationship to sport as the reasonable engagement with the physical and metaphysical world toward a desired end.
When I studied with a priest and diviner in Nigeria, I helped him prepare many òògùn (a Yoruba term meaning simultaneously medicine, charm and technology) to heal and prevent injuries and harm.
Because all facets of their lives have a spiritual dimension, many Black and African players and teams regularly pray together before and after matches. Germany’s Jonathan Tah and Felix Nmecha made news by joining Curaçao’s team in prayer after their match.
From this perspective, a priest offering services to a team is just as legitimate as a sports psychologist, nutritionist or physiotherapist. Each draws on a long-standing tradition of experimentation, training and the application of different technologies to support favourable results.
For example, the Senegalese wrestling sport Laamb integrates marabouts (Muslim clerics) and amulets into competitions. The marabouts function much like boxing coaches, just also with power over immaterial forces.
Unlike in Laamb, spiritual intervention in soccer was not initially conceptualized as integral to the game, but it has, sometimes covertly, been integrated into the sport in Africa. https://www.youtube.com/embed/XvNIR0AIrPs?wmode=transparent&start=0 A clip about marabouts and Senegalese Laamb wrestling (Vice Media)
Accessing a nonphysical reality
A fundamental principle of Indigenous African spiritual systems is that all materials also have a nonphysical reality, and they can be used to effect change on that nonphysical level.
Powders, like those scattered by Ayew or Kpa seemed to blow, frequently contain dried, ground or burned natural substances with some characteristic related to the desired outcome.
These substances can be placed on or in a body, or important places such as a door frame or goal, to prevent things from entering. This is why the striker in the Rwandan example I mentioned removed the charm from his opponents’ goal while his opponents desperately tried to get it back.
Other common approaches include reciting incantations or soaking the body in ritual baths. Some also involve using flames to burn away or scatter dark and malevolent forces, like those I saw in a pot on the head of a Ghana fan at the 2010 World Cup.
Mischaracterization and prejudice
Europeans have often mischaracterized African ritual and knowledge systems as “black magic,” “witchcraft,” or “superstition” to justify a sense of religious, cultural and racial superiority over Black people. African religious practices and experts are also still frequently and pejoratively called “fetishism” and “witch doctors.”
The prejudice toward and dismissal of these practices and practitioners has driven many underground, but they are still ubiquitous in African society. Such pejorative attitudes were evident during Bonsam’s recent interviews in western media.
While I worked with the Nigerian diviner, people who might be considered “modern” and operating in secular spheres from a western perspective — such as university students, prominent business people and even politicians — regularly came for spiritual and professional help, which they understood as one and the same.
Athletes are particularly aware that talent and hard work are not always enough to ensure victory. Africans and non-Africans alike generally recognize that there are forces beyond their control at play, even if some might generically conceptualize those forces as “luck.” And even spiritual services are no guarantee of victory if the other side has access to them too.
It is unclear if Kpa’s powder was actually ritual material or simply a demonstration of cultural heritage, like Norway’s Viking row. However, after the goalless Ghana match, Kane did go on to score against Panama once Bonsam said he had “released” the Englishman.
Kpa and Bonsam unsurprisingly captivated African and non-African soccer fans, even if their actions may have been less legible to some. Beyond the World Cup, what may be more interesting is how both men represent an ancestral knowledge tradition that is thousands of years old, and they are merely a visible part of the invisible spiritual dimension of sport in Africa.
Ayodeji Ogunnaike, Assistant Professor of African Religions; Canada Research Chair (Tier 2) in the Globalization of African Religions and Yoruba Mythology, McGill University
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Commentary
Reflections on Ghana And the Future it Deserves | By Simone Giger, Swiss Ambassador to Ghana
As her diplomatic tenure in West Africa draws to a close, Swiss Ambassador Simone Giger pens a reflective and heartfelt tribute to Ghana’s enduring national character. Having traveled extensively across the country—from Paga to Keta and Wa to Goaso—she offers an intimate, human-centered assessment of a nation defined by its resilient democratic culture, youthful ambition, and an infectious “vibe” that fosters cohesion. In this candid farewell, Ambassador Giger explores the complex challenges threatening Ghana’s ecological treasures and argues that sustained institutional reform, rather than outside invention, is the key to unlocking the prosperous future the country so clearly deserves.
Travelling through northern Ghana, this author once stopped in a small community after a long journey. Despite the day’s heat and the demands of daily life, residents welcomed visitors with warm smiles, easy laughter and an eagerness to share stories about their hopes for the future.
It was a simple encounter, yet it captured something profoundly Ghanaian: an enduring optimism that persists even in difficult circumstances.
In diplomacy, countries are often assessed through official meetings, economic indicators and policy documents. Yet to truly understand a nation, one must travel through it, listen to its people, appreciate its strengths, observe its contradictions and understand the aspirations that shape everyday life.
As the end of a diplomatic assignment in Ghana approaches, this author finds reason to reflect deeply on a country that has left a lasting impression, not only professionally but personally.
Over the past four years, extensive travels across Ghana—from Paga to Keta, Damongo to Donkokrom, and Wa to Goaso—have revealed a country of extraordinary diversity, complexity, creativity and resilience.
Every journey has unveiled a different dimension of Ghana. Yet one common thread consistently emerges: a nation brimming with potential.
There is something profoundly remarkable about Ghana and its national character, what many Ghanaians simply describe as the country’s “vibe”.
It is evident in the warmth extended to strangers, the humour with which difficulties are confronted and the optimism that endures even during periods of uncertainty.
Even in challenging moments, there is often a joke, a proverb or a story that helps place events in perspective.
In this author’s view, that national character has become one of the essential ingredients behind Ghana’s democratic success.
At a time when democratic systems around the world are facing increasing pressure, polarisation and distrust, Ghana continues to distinguish itself through its commitment to dialogue, constitutional order and peaceful coexistence.
Democracy here is not perfect. No democracy truly is, including Switzerland’s.
What matters is that it remains alive, active and deeply valued by citizens.
Over the years, Ghana has established itself as an important democratic reference point in West Africa.
The country has repeatedly demonstrated that political competition can coexist with stability, that transfers of power can occur peacefully and that national debates can take place within institutional frameworks rather than outside them.
Such achievements should never be taken for granted.
Democracy is not sustained by elections alone.
It requires strong institutions, active citizens, credible public discourse and a continuous willingness to negotiate consensus across political, ethnic, religious and generational lines.
One can observe that Ghana’s diversity presents both opportunities and challenges. Yet this author has often admired the manner in which the country continues to navigate these varied interests while preserving national cohesion.
In many respects, this is where Ghana’s democratic future becomes particularly important.
The country possesses extraordinary human capital.
Wherever this author travelled, young people displayed ambition, intelligence, creativity and determination.
Ghana’s greatest resource is not found beneath the ground.
It resides in its people, their ideas and their aspirations.
Ideas and aspirations, however, require systems that function effectively if they are to translate into meaningful and productive outcomes.
When institutions are transparent, responsive, accountable and trusted, they unlock innovation, investment and opportunity.
When they are weak or inconsistent, they risk frustrating the very energy capable of propelling a nation forward.
This is why governance reforms remain so important to Ghana’s long-term trajectory.
One development that particularly impressed this author during the diplomatic assignment has been Ghana’s constitutional review process.
What stands out is not only the process itself, but also the spirit behind it – a willingness to reflect critically on how democratic governance can evolve to meet contemporary realities and future expectations.
This demonstrates political maturity.
Constitutions should never be viewed as static documents frozen in time.
Strong democracies periodically examine whether their systems remain responsive, inclusive and effective.
Ghana’s consultative approach reflects a country seeking not merely to preserve democracy, but to improve it.
Switzerland is proud to support these home-grown efforts and remains committed to supporting the constitutional reform process until its hoped-for successful conclusion.
History demonstrates that democratic stability does not emerge automatically.
It requires deliberate investment in participation, inclusion and dialogue.
Swiss democracy itself evolved gradually through compromise, negotiation and the understanding that national cohesion is strengthened when citizens feel ownership over public decisions.
One can observe important similarities between Ghana and Switzerland.
Both countries are diverse societies that have chosen coexistence over division.
Both understand that stability is strongest when different voices are heard and accommodated.
Both appreciate the importance of consensus-building in national life.
This shared philosophy has shaped bilateral cooperation over many decades.
Today, the partnership continues to evolve in both breadth and depth.
Switzerland currently supports initiatives focused on democratic governance, parliamentary cooperation, decentralisation, peace and security, cultural exchange, environmental integrity, climate adaptation and economic development.
Switzerland and Ghana may differ in geography, history and scale, yet both countries share a belief in dialogue and cooperation as foundations for national progress.
Despite Ghana’s bright prospects, one cannot ignore the challenges confronting the country.
No nation can fully realise its potential without confronting difficult issues directly.
During the years spent in Ghana, citizens from various walks of life spoke openly about concerns surrounding institutional effectiveness, economic opportunity, environmental degradation and governance accountability.
Such conversations reflected not pessimism, but a desire to see the country fulfil its promise.
Particularly concerning is the destruction caused by illegal mining activities.
Ghana’s rivers, forests and landscapes are among its greatest treasures.
Environmental degradation is not merely an ecological issue.
It is fundamentally a matter of intergenerational responsibility.
Future prosperity depends on preserving the natural foundation upon which communities, livelihoods and national identity are built.
Yet despite these challenges, this author remains deeply optimistic about Ghana’s future.
That optimism stems not from idealism but from observation.
The future of democracy globally will not be shaped only by geopolitical actors or large states.
Medium-sized countries such as Switzerland and Ghana also have important roles to play.
They can demonstrate that democratic resilience, peaceful coexistence and institutional reform remain both possible and necessary.
As this diplomatic assignment draws to a close, there is profound gratitude for the opportunity to have lived and worked in Ghana.
Over the years, this author has come to admire the country not only for its democratic achievements, but also for its humanity – its warmth, creativity, humour and enduring sense of possibility.
The task ahead is not to invent Ghana’s future.
Rather, it is to create the institutional conditions necessary for that future to emerge fully.
From all that has been observed across the country, there is every reason to believe that Ghana can achieve precisely that.
The author, Simone Giger, is the Swiss Ambassador to Ghana, Togo and Benin
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