Until the Airplane Starts Falling

The world is full of hypocrites. Not because people are wicked, but because comfort is a good actor and pressure is a bad one. On good days we all have slogans. We have principles pinned to our bios, quotes on our walls, and strong opinions in taxis and on Facebook. But when the money enters, when the fear comes, when the lights go off - the slogans fall and instinct takes over. That is when you see who a person really is. And if we are honest, Ghana has given us enough examples to know this truth. We have seen it in our politics, in our boardrooms, in our churches, in our families, and if we look closely, in the mirror.

We are feminists until war breaks out. In Accra, on social media, and in conferences, we argue strongly for equality. Equal pay, equal opportunity, equal seats at the table. And that conversation matters. But watch what happens when there is real trouble. A robbery at 2am in your area. A company about to collapse and someone has to work through the night. A heavy load that must be lifted or a risk that must be taken. Suddenly, we are running to the men. We are saying, “Where are the men?” In our markets in Kejetia, in our security forces, in our homes, we still default to strength when danger shows up. This is not to dismiss the fight for fairness. It is to say that ideals sound beautiful in a podcast, but instinct reveals our true beliefs when the pressure is high.

We are communists until we get rich. In Ghana we love to talk about the system. “The rich are greedy.” “The government is not sharing.” “They are cheating the poor.” You will hear it at the chop bar, on radio, in trotro. But give that same voice a contract, a piece of land, or an appointment, and watch the music change. Suddenly it becomes, “I suffered for this.” “Nobody should touch my business.” “Government should stay out of my pocket.” The Akan have a saying, “Wode wo ho bɛto wo ho so.” You will protect yourself when it is your turn. We are not against wealth. We are against other people having it — until it is us. That is not ideology. That is appetite. And appetite does not debate. It eats.

We are atheists . Ghana is one of the most religious countries in the world on paper. Churches on every corner, mosques at dawn, shrines in the villages. But the real test is not Sunday. The real test is Thursday at 3am when the results are coming out. It is in the hospital ward. It is when your business account is empty and rent is due. It is when the pregnancy has delayed. That is when the fasting starts. That is when the seeds are sown. That is when we remember the pastor, the imam, the mallam, and the prayer chain. As Pastor Mensa Otabil once said, “Crisis doesn’t create faith. It reveals it.” We did not lose our belief in comfortable seasons. We just got good at pretending we did not need it.

We are environmentalists until development comes to our backyard. We will march, post, and preach about climate change, deforestation, and clean water. “Save the trees.” “Stop galamsey.” “Protect our rivers.” And we should. But the moment a developer comes with money to buy family land, or a company offers jobs in the community, the conversation changes. “Chairman, it’s just a small portion.” “The youth need work.” “We will replant later.” In mining towns across Western Region and in peri-urban Accra, we have watched forests fall not because people hate nature, but because rent is due. We love the planet until our pocket is empty. We love nature until it is standing between us and opportunity. That is when we learn that conviction is easy when it costs nothing.

We are anti-corruption crusaders until we need a favor. On radio and in comment sections we are fierce. “This country is corrupt.” “Arrest them all.” “The system is rotten.” But the moment your passport is delayed, your child needs admission, or your goods are stuck at the port, the first question becomes, “Who do you know there?” “Is there someone who can help us fast?” Suddenly we are looking for a “connection man.” We are asking for “protocol.” We condemn the very shortcut we are now begging for. Corruption in Ghana is not just a government problem. It is a human problem. It thrives because we hate it in the news, but we use it in our emergencies. We want a clean system until we are the ones in a hurry.

Look at our politics and you will see the pattern clearly. During campaigns, every politician is “a man of the people.” They sleep in the village, they eat banku with their hands, they speak the local dialect, and they promise free everything. “We are all comrades. We are all suffering together.” The moment the results are declared, the convoy grows, the sirens come on, and the language changes to “protocol” and “due process.” And we, the citizens who cursed corruption last year, are now calling the same MP: “Chairman, is there any job for me? Is there any contract?” We did not change the system. The system tested us, and we failed the test. Because power does not create character. It exposes it.

Business teaches the same lesson. The young entrepreneur will post bold things online: “No shortcuts. Build properly. Serve people first.” The comments will be full of fire emojis. But when sales drop, when staff salaries are due, when the landlord is knocking, suddenly the principles become flexible. “Let us inflate this invoice just this once.” “Let us cut this corner.” “Let us see the inspector with something small.” We were ethical until the bank account got empty. I know this because I have been building for over 7 years. I have felt the tension between principle and pressure. The people and companies that last are not the ones who never feel the pressure. They are the ones who decided their values before the pressure arrived.

So what do we do with this? Do we just accept that everyone is fake? No. The point is not to condemn. It’s not to be a soldier of righteousness. The point is to be honest. James Baldwin said, “People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them.” We are trapped in a culture of performance. We say one thing in public and do another in private because we have never been tested in the middle. But a man is not proven until he has something to lose. A woman is not proven until she has power. A nation is not proven until it has money. Hypocrisy grows in the gap between what we preach and what we practice when no one is watching. And that gap is where most of us live.

Here is the way forward, and it is simple. Stop performing. Start preparing. Do not wait for war to find out if you believe in equality. Do not wait to get rich to find out if you believe in fairness. Do not wait for the plane to shake to find out if you believe in God. Do not wait for a development deal to find out if you believe in the environment. Do not wait for an emergency to find out if you believe in integrity. Test yourself now, in small things, in private, when there is no camera and no crowd. Ghana does not need more slogans. Ghana needs more people whose private life matches their public post. The world is full of hypocrites. My prayer, and my work, is that it will not include you. And it will not include me.