When Critique Becomes Cruelty.Who Really Pays the Price in Ghana's Music Industry?

Ghana’s music industry moves like a living organism constantly evolving, borrowing breath from tradition while chasing the future. It is heard in taxis, funerals, weddings, protests, and quiet moments of self-definition. Through sound, the nation introduces itself to the world. Yet somewhere along this rhythm, a discordant habit has crept in, the transformation of artistic discussion into public spectacle built on humiliation.

What we increasingly call “music commentary” is no longer anchored in sound, craft, or cultural contribution. Instead, it often feeds on exposure stripping artists of dignity in exchange for applause, clicks, or laughter. The conversation has shifted from What does the work say? to Who can we tear down next? That shift matters more than we admit.

Artists are not abstract figures floating above society. They are people who rehearse through uncertainty, gamble personal savings on dreams, and carry invisible emotional weight into studios and onto stages. When criticism mutates into mockery, it does more than bruise egos ,it quietly teaches creators that visibility comes with punishment. For younger artists watching from the margins, the message is unmistakable. success invites ridicule, not respect.

What makes this troubling is how selectively we suspend our ethics. In other professions, public discourse is restrained by unwritten rules of decency. We do not convene panels to laugh at failed surgeries or ridicule young lawyers finding their footing. Yet musicians ,because their work is audible and their faces recognizable are treated as acceptable targets. If music is labor, then why is its labor force denied professional courtesy?

Freedom of speech is often raised as a defense, but freedom was never meant to be careless. Expression carries weight. There is a meaningful difference between dissecting a song and dismantling a person. When platforms blur that boundary, they don’t just harm individuals, they shape an ecosystem where cruelty becomes currency.

Other creative economies have learned this lesson the hard way. Sustainable industries do not survive by cannibalizing their talent. They establish guardrails ethical broadcasting standards, artist unions, enforceable accountability not to dull debate, but to prevent damage masquerading as entertainment. Respect does not weaken critique,it sharpens it.

If Ghana truly envisions its music industry as globally competitive, then the conversation must mature. That means building structures that defend artists from misrepresentation, demanding responsibility from commentators with national reach, and acknowledging the mental health cost of relentless public derision. Above all, it requires a collective decision about values, whether the industry exists to nurture excellence or to profit from spectacle.

This is not a plea for silence. Art thrives on critique. But critique that lacks humanity eventually drains the very source it feeds on. A culture that makes humiliation normal will one day wonder why its brightest talents choose distance, silence, or exit.

Protecting musicians is not sentimentality it is strategy. No industry survives by teaching its creators that dignity is optional.

Rashad Djibril Wiseborn