A Nation’s Grief and the Cost of Cynicism.

In the wake of a tragic helicopter crash that claimed the lives of eight Ghanaian leaders and crew members, I found myself not only mourning their loss but grappling with a deeper sorrow—one stirred by the reactions of some fellow citizens. On public platforms, there were voices that greeted the news with celebration, even wishing for more such calamities. It was a moment that revealed a painful fracture in our national conscience.

Such responses, though perhaps born of long-standing frustration or political disillusionment, speak to a troubling erosion of respect for leadership. When I lamented, “Ghana will cry for leaders when it is too late,” it was not merely a cry for the departed, but a warning to the living. We risk becoming a nation that only recognizes the value of leadership in its absence—when the void left behind is too vast to ignore.

True leadership is rare. It demands vision, courage, and sacrifice. If cynicism blinds us to these qualities, we may one day find ourselves longing for the very voices we once dismissed. Let this tragedy not only be a moment of mourning, but a call to reflect on the kind of nation we are becoming—and the kind of leaders we truly need.

We deeply feel the weight of what’s happening in Ghana. The situation is deeply troubling, and recent events reflect a mix of tragedy, political controversy, and growing public frustration. It is very sad for the heart to absorb. I wept sorrowfully today and may God help President Mahama.

Hard Truths We Must Confront: A Call to Heal the Black Soul. The Blacks acclimatized culture.

Black hates Black—not because we are born to hate, but because we were taught to compete instead of unite. This hatred is not innate—it’s inherited. From colonialism to systemic tribalism, bigotry and racism, Black communities have been pitted against each other for limited resources, recognition, and survival. The structures around us reward individualism and rivalry not collective progress. We must recognize that this competition is a tool of oppression, not empowerment.

Black laughs when Black is in trouble—because pain has become entertainment, and empathy feels too vulnerable. In a world that constantly dehumanizes Black suffering, we’ve learned to mask our own pain with humor. But when we laugh at each other’s downfall, we reinforce the very systems that mock us. Empathy is not weakness—it’s the foundation of community. We must relearn how to feel for one another without shame.

Black kills Black—because we’ve been conditioned to see each other as threats, not kin. The violence within our communities is often a reflection of systemic neglect, poverty, and trauma. When institutions fail to protect us, we turn on each other with all dubious means. But we are not enemies—we are reflections of the same struggle. Healing begins when we stop seeing each other as rivals and start seeing each other as family.

Black doubts Black—because trust was broken long before we learned to build it. Generations of betrayal—by governments, leaders, and even peers—have left deep scars. Suspicion has become second nature. But trust is the soil in which progress grows. We must cultivate it intentionally, through transparency, accountability, and shared purpose.

Black envies Black—because we’ve been starved of opportunity and taught that success is a zero-sum game. When one Black person rises, others often feel threatened—not because they don’t want success, but because they’ve been told there’s only room for one. This scarcity mindset is a lie. There is enough space for all of us to thrive. We must celebrate each other’s victories as if they were our own.

Black silences Black—because power feels safer when it’s hoarded, not shared. Leadership in Black spaces can sometimes mirror the very oppression we fight against. Gatekeeping, exclusion, and ego-driven control stifle growth. True power is collaborative. We must build platforms that amplify diverse voices, not suppress them.

Black abandons Black—because survival sometimes feels easier alone. In the face of adversity, some choose isolation over community. It’s understandable—but dangerous. No one heals in solitude. We need each other, especially when the world turns its back. Solidarity is not just a strategy—it’s a lifeline.

Black mocks Black—because we’ve mistaken trauma for toughness. We joke about our pain, our struggles, our flaws—thinking it makes us strong. But mocking each other’s wounds only deepens them. True strength lies in vulnerability, in the courage to confront our trauma and support others through theirs.

Black fears Black—because we’ve internalized the lies of our oppressors. Media, education, and politics have long painted Blackness as dangerous, inferior, or unworthy. These narratives seep into our consciousness, shaping how we see each other. We must unlearn these lies and reclaim the truth: that Blackness is beautiful, powerful, and worthy of love.

Black must heal Black—because no one else will do it for us. Waiting for external saviors is futile. The healing of the Black community must come from within—from our stories, our traditions, our unity. We are the solution we’ve been searching for. Through love, truth, and collective action, we can rebuild what was broken.

The Root Causes Behind the Division in the Black Community, leadership or politics.

Endless Poverty: The Engine of Desperation. Poverty strips communities of stability, dignity, and opportunity. When basic needs aren’t met, survival becomes the priority—and survival often breeds competition. In impoverished environments, people are forced to fight over scraps, which fuels mistrust and resentment. Poverty also limits access to education, healthcare, and justice, making it harder to break free from cycles of violence and self-destruction.

Cultural Hatred: The Poison of Internalized Oppression. Hatred within the Black community is often a reflection of the hatred imposed from outside. Centuries of racism, colonization, and systemic abuse have taught many to see themselves—and others like them—as less than. This internalized oppression manifests as self-hate, colorism, tribalism, and division. When people are taught to despise their own identity, they begin to despise those who share it.

Envy: The Scarcity Mindset. Envy thrives in environments where success feels rare and unreachable. When one person rises, others may feel threatened—not because they don’t want success, but because they’ve been conditioned to believe there’s only room for one. This scarcity mindset leads to sabotage, gossip, and rivalry. Instead of celebrating each other, we compete, often destructively.

Ignorance: The Absence of Truth. Ignorance isn’t just a lack of education—it’s a lack of awareness, empathy, and historical understanding. When people don’t know their history, they don’t know their worth. Ignorance breeds stereotypes, fear, and division. It keeps communities from organizing, from healing, and from recognizing the systems that keep them oppressed. Knowledge is power—and ignorance is the absence of it.

Rustic Living: The Isolation of the Marginalized. Rustic or rural living often means limited access to infrastructure, technology, and progressive ideas. In these isolated spaces, outdated beliefs and harmful traditions can persist unchecked. Without exposure to broader perspectives, communities may cling to tribalism, superstition, and rigid social hierarchies. This isolation can deepen divisions and hinder collective growth.

One-sided Usefulness. If It Comes to My Side, It’s Good—If It Goes to Another, It’s Bad”: This mentality reflects a deep-rooted issue in Ghanaian society: tribalism, partisanship, and personal bias overriding collective progress. Whether in politics, business, religion, or even family dynamics, many Ghanaians have been conditioned to celebrate success only when it benefits their own group—and to criticize or sabotage it when it benefits someone else.it shows up in;

• Politics: A political party’s actions are praised when in power, but condemned when the opposition does the same—even if the policy is beneficial.
• Tribalism: Achievements are celebrated when they come from one’s ethnic group, but dismissed or envied when they come from another.
• Religion: Churches may compete for influence, viewing growth in another denomination as a threat rather than a shared spiritual victory.
• Workplace and Community: Promotions, awards, or recognition are often met with resentment if they don’t go to “our people.”

The Consequences

• Division: Instead of unity, communities fracture along tribal, political, or religious lines.
• Sabotage: Progress is slowed because people actively work against initiatives that don’t benefit their side.
• Stagnation: Innovation and leadership are stifled when merit is ignored in favor of loyalty or identity.
• Bitterness: A culture of envy and suspicion grows, making collaboration nearly impossible.

The Way Forward
Ghana must embrace a culture of principle over personality, merit over tribe, and unity over division. Success should be celebrated wherever it arises—because when one Ghanaian rises, the nation rises. We must teach that progress is not a zero-sum game, and that true patriotism means rooting for the good of all, not just our own.

A Call for Strength and Prayer
In times like this, Nehemiah’s prayer becomes deeply relevant: “Lord, strengthen my hands.” — Nehemiah 6:9. This is not just a cry for physical strength—it’s a plea for courage, integrity and divine help to keep standing in trust. Ghana is not just a land—it’s a people. And the people are not powerless. When truth is buried, we dig it out. When justice is delayed, we demand it. When fear knocks, we answer with faith. We are builders like Nehemiah. We are warriors of peace. We will not be silenced. We will not be broken.

Ghana is not merely a stretch of land bordered by rivers and coastlines—it is the heartbeat of millions who dream, strive, and endure. It is the voice of market women, the strength of farmers, the brilliance of students, and the resilience of elders. When truth is buried beneath political wickedness, we do not turn away—we dig it out with courage and conviction. When justice is delayed and denied, we do not wait in silence—we rise and demand it with unwavering resolve. And when fear creeps into our communities, we do not cower—we answer with faith, unity, and the unshakable belief that light will overcome darkness.

We are builders like Nehemiah, called to restore what has been broken and defend what is sacred. We are warriors of peace, armed not with weapons but with wisdom, integrity, and love for our nation. We will not be silenced by intimidation or broken by betrayal. Our voices will echo through every street and courtroom, every pulpit and parliament. Ghana will rise—not because of the strength of its leaders, but because of the power of its people. And we will rise with her, hand in hand, heart to heart, until justice flows like a mighty river.

God, Strengthen the Hands of Ghanaians
God, in this hour of trial, we cry out—not in despair, but in determination. Strengthen the hands of Ghanaians. Let the farmer’s hands sow hope into the soil. Let the teacher’s hands shape minds with truth. Let the youth lift their hands not in surrender, but in purpose. Let the hands of justice not tremble, but strike boldly against corruption.

In this hour of grief, may the hands of those who build, speak, and lead with integrity be strengthened. Let no hand grow weary in the pursuit of righteousness, nor be stained by injustice. May every hand—young and old, rich and poor—be guided by divine wisdom to restore what is broken, protect what is sacred, and lift Ghana into the light of glory. This tragedy must stir more than sorrow; it must awaken us to the cost of cynicism and the fragility of true leadership. If we fail to honor those who serve with courage and conviction, we risk mourning not only their passing, but the absence of the leadership we once took for granted.

By Gaddiel R. Ackah
A Ghanaian writer and social commentator known for his reflective essays on leadership, faith, and national development

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