Are Elected Party Leaders First Among Equals or Institutional Monarchs?

Over the past week, I came across an interview on Channel One TV in which Umaru Sanda engaged Mustapha Gbande, the Deputy General Secretary of the National Democratic Congress (NDC). In the course of the discussion, Mr. Gbande remarked that if he were the General Secretary, many people would have been suspended.

That statement, in my view, is not a trivial political comment. It raises a profound governance question that deserves careful scrutiny—not only within the NDC, but across the entire political landscape of Ghana. The issue is not whether disciplinary action is sometimes necessary. Every political organization must have mechanisms for enforcing discipline and protecting its constitutional order.

The real question is this: Who has the authority to suspend an elected officer, and how should that authority be exercised? An elected chairman or general secretary is not a corporate monarch; he is first among equals. His office gives him responsibility, influence, and procedural authority, but it does not automatically confer unilateral power to impose formal disciplinary sanctions on colleagues.

Yet in practice, we have witnessed situations in which party chairmen at regional and constituency levels announce the suspension of elected officers or subordinate executives as though such authority resides personally in them. Its cascading effect runs through the ranks, creating a culture in which any officeholder assumes that occupying a higher position entitles him to suspend a colleague by simply issuing a letter. Would such conduct be acceptable under standard corporate governance principles? Generally, no.

Although political parties are not corporations, both rely on constitutional structures that distribute authority and prevent the concentration of power in a single office. The same logic should apply to political parties. The executive committee is ordinarily the governing organ. The chairman presides over meetings; the general secretary implements decisions and manages administration.

Political parties often justify unilateral action by citing the need for urgency in managing internal disputes. But we must ask an uncomfortable question: Does alleged anti-party conduct automatically constitute an emergency? An officeholder may, where the constitution permits, take temporary administrative steps to preserve order in exceptional circumstances.

However, the suspension of an elected officer—particularly one elected by delegates or party members—is ordinarily a significant constitutional decision. Such a decision affects representation, legitimacy, and the will of the electorate within the party structure. Formal disciplinary sanctions are not the same as emergency administrative actions. Even if the underlying allegations have merit, bypassing constitutional procedure undermines the legitimacy of the action. Good governance is not measured only by outcomes; it is measured by adherence to process. The danger of personalized disciplinary power is that it can easily degenerate into abuse of office, selective enforcement, suppression of dissent, and factional intimidation.

Over time, members begin to fear personalities rather than respect institutions. That is precisely what constitutional governance seeks to avoid. A political party that aspires to govern a constitutional democracy must itself exemplify constitutional governance. It cannot credibly demand respect for due process in the state while disregarding due process within its own structures. Internal democracy is strengthened when power is exercised through institutions rather than personalities, and when even the most senior leaders remain subject to the rules they are entrusted to uphold.

The moment disciplinary authority becomes personalized rather than institutionalized, the party risks replacing constitutional governance with the rule of individuals. And when that happens, the greatest casualty is not merely party unity—it is the culture of democracy itself.