THE PEOPLE’S COVENANT: Democracy, the Grassroots and the Dignity of the Citizen

Democracy is not a gift of the few to the many.

It is not a privilege distributed by political gatekeepers, nor a favour granted by those who happen to occupy positions of influence. At its foundation, democracy is a covenant between the people and the institutions they create to govern themselves.

It is a covenant of participation.

It is a covenant of accountability.

Above all, it is a covenant of dignity.

The recent decision of Ghana's Supreme Court declaring the delegate system used by political parties unconstitutional has therefore opened a conversation that extends beyond the mechanics of internal party elections.

The legal question belongs to the Court.

The political responsibility belongs to the parties.

But the deeper democratic reflection belongs to all of us.

For me, the significance lies in the possibility of restoring something that democratic institutions can gradually lose: the ordinary citizen's sense that the institution to which he belongs is also his institution.

That is where the People's Covenant begins.

THE OLD ORDER: WHEN REPRESENTATION BECOMES GATEKEEPING

There is nothing inherently undemocratic about representation.

Large institutions require organization. Delegation can make administration possible. Leadership requires structures, and structures require people entrusted with particular responsibilities.

The danger begins when representation ceases to be a bridge and becomes a gate.

A representative is supposed to carry the voice of those who entrusted him.

A gatekeeper controls who gets through.

That distinction matters.

For years, the delegate system placed decisive political choices in the hands of a comparatively limited number of party members. The ordinary member could register, pay dues, attend meetings, campaign, mobilize supporters, defend the party and carry its message into the community, yet still find that the decisive choice of leadership rested with someone else.

Over time, such an arrangement can create a psychological distance between membership and ownership.

The member belongs to the organization, but may begin to feel that the organization belongs to others.

And when that feeling takes root, democracy becomes vulnerable.

The Akan proverb says:

“Nsa baako nkura adesoa.”

One hand cannot carry a heavy load.

A political organization is a heavy load.

A democracy is heavier still.

No small circle, however experienced, influential or well resourced, can permanently carry the entire burden of political legitimacy on behalf of the many.

The people must participate in carrying it.

The people must have a voice in determining its direction.

The people must feel that the institution is theirs.

THE PEOPLE'S DIGNITY

This is where I believe the Court's judgment acquires significance beyond the mechanics of voting.

The legal determination is one thing.

What society makes of that determination is another.

For me, its significance lies in the possibility of restoring dignity to the ordinary member.

The card-bearing member who holds no office.

The party worker who possesses neither wealth nor influence.

The supporter who has no access to headquarters.

The citizen who has never sat at a political table but whose vote is nevertheless part of the collective mandate.

The ballot says to each of them:

You belong.

And belonging matters.

An institution cannot continually demand sacrifice from its members while denying them meaningful participation in determining its direction.

The people must not be treated as the legs upon which a political structure walks while others alone determine where it goes.

The grassroots are not merely the numerical base of a political organization.

They are part of its sovereignty.

WHAT THE REGIMENT TAUGHT ME

Perhaps this is where my own reflection enters the discussion.

I entered the military as a young man.

I spent much of my working life within the regiment.

I eventually became a Regimental Sergeant Major.

Between those points lies a lifetime of service, discipline, responsibility, observation, mistakes, learning and leadership.

The regiment taught me things that have remained with me long after I removed the uniform.

I learned that authority has a purpose.

I learned that discipline is not merely obedience.

I learned that responsibility must accompany rank.

I learned that loyalty to an institution must be greater than loyalty to an individual.

And, perhaps most importantly, I learned that an institution is larger than the person temporarily entrusted with its leadership.

A commander eventually leaves.

An officer eventually retires.

A Regimental Sergeant Major eventually hands over.

The pace stick changes hands.

The colours remain.

The regiment continues.

That is institutional continuity.

It is also one of the most important lessons I bring to my reflection upon democracy.

Political leaders are temporary custodians.

Political institutions are intergenerational.

The people therefore have a greater claim upon the institution than any individual leader can ever possess.

RANK DOES NOT CANCEL DIGNITY

Military life also taught me an important distinction.

Rank establishes authority.

It does not establish human worth.

The senior officer carries greater command responsibility than the junior soldier.

The Regimental Sergeant Major occupies a position of considerable responsibility within the regiment.

But the private soldier is not less human.

His rank may be lower.

His responsibility may be different.

His authority may be narrower.

But his dignity remains.

This distinction has influenced how I look at democracy.

A party chairman may possess greater organizational responsibility than an ordinary member.

A parliamentary candidate may have greater political visibility.

A national executive may exercise greater authority within the party structure.

But none of that should transform political hierarchy into a hierarchy of human dignity.

The ordinary member is not politically inferior simply because he holds no office.

That is why direct participation matters.

It recognizes that the absence of political office does not mean the absence of political dignity.

FROM COMMAND TO CONSENT

Yet the military and democracy must not be confused.

A political party is not a military formation.

The citizen is not a soldier under political command.

The politician is not the citizen's commanding officer.

Military effectiveness requires unity of command and disciplined obedience to lawful orders.

Democracy requires consent, participation, persuasion and accountability.

The analogy therefore lies not in command but in institutional discipline.

Politics can learn from the military without becoming militarized.

It can learn that authority must be exercised responsibly.

It can learn that standards matter.

It can learn that responsibility cannot be separated from privilege.

It can learn that institutions must survive personalities.

And it can learn that every generation must prepare the institution for the generation that follows.

That is where the soldier's experience becomes relevant to the citizen's reflection.

ONE MEMBER, ONE VOTE

The phrase “one member, one vote” sounds simple.

But its implications are profound.

It says that political dignity is not determined by wealth.

It says that influence cannot legitimately depend upon proximity to power.

It says that the ordinary member possesses a direct political voice.

The wealthy member and the modest member stand before the ballot as equals.

The influential member and the unknown member possess the same fundamental vote.

The old party hand and the new eligible member possess the same democratic entitlement.

This does not mean that they possess equal knowledge, experience or responsibility.

It means that their fundamental political dignity is equal.

And that distinction is at the heart of democracy.

The vote is therefore not merely an instrument for choosing a candidate.

It is an affirmation:

I belong to this institution, and my voice matters to its future.

THE WISDOM OF COLLECTIVE STRENGTH

The Akan proverb,

“Nsa baako nkura adesoa.”

One hand cannot carry a heavy load.

There is another Akan wisdom that deepens the same principle:

“Dua baako gye mframa a, ebu.”

When one tree bears the full force of the wind alone, it can fall.

The lesson is not that the individual is weak.

It is that strength becomes more durable when responsibility is shared.

A political party cannot depend permanently upon a handful of influential people.

A nation cannot depend permanently upon a handful of political personalities.

Institutions endure when responsibility is distributed and participation is genuine.

The grassroots are therefore not merely the numerical foundation of a political party.

They are part of its institutional strength.

THE PEOPLE ARE NOT A PARADE

There is a lesson from military life that I find particularly useful here.

A regiment can look magnificent on parade.

The uniforms are correct.

The lines are straight.

The commands are executed.

The formation appears disciplined.

But parade-ground appearance is not the final test of a regiment.

The true test is whether the institution can fulfil its responsibility when responsibility becomes difficult.

Politics is no different.

A party may possess impressive offices, committees, executives, slogans, banners and personalities.

But the real measure of its democratic character is not how impressive it looks from headquarters.

It is how it treats the ordinary member.

Can the leadership listen?

Can it accept criticism?

Can it tolerate disagreement?

Can it renew itself?

Can it surrender power peacefully?

Can it allow its members to choose without fear?

Can it accept that the institution is greater than the individual?

These are the tests.

Democracy is not a parade.

It is a continuous exercise in accountability.

THE CULTURAL CORRECTION

There are moments in the life of a society when it becomes necessary to return to first principles.

The Akan proverb says:

“Sɛ wo werɛ fi na wosan kɔfa a, yenkyi.”

If you forget and go back for what you left behind, it is not forbidden.

There is wisdom in that.

A society can forget why an institution was created.

It can become so accustomed to a procedure that it mistakes familiarity for legitimacy.

It can defend an arrangement simply because it has existed for a long time.

But age alone does not make a practice just.

Sometimes progress requires us to return and recover something we left behind.

In my view, this is one way to understand the present moment.

The question is not merely:

What procedure have we inherited?

The deeper question is:

Does the procedure still serve the democratic principle for which the institution exists?

That is the question every generation must be willing to ask.

THE DANGER OF DECLARING VICTORY TOO EARLY

Yet I would caution against believing that the removal of the delegate system automatically creates democratic perfection.

It does not.

Abolishing one form of gatekeeping does not abolish gatekeeping itself.

Money can still influence elections.

Inducement can still occur.

Political patronage can still operate.

Personal networks can still become machines of influence.

Administrative structures can still become instruments of control.

Technology can create new forms of exclusion.

The danger can simply move from one gate to another.

Therefore, the principle of one member, one vote must be accompanied by another: one member, one responsibility.

The right to vote must carry the responsibility to use the vote wisely.

The freedom to participate must carry the responsibility to protect the integrity of the institution.

And those entrusted with administering the process must remember:

Custody is not ownership.

THE SOLDIER'S LESSON ABOUT HANDING OVER

Perhaps one of the deepest lessons I carry from military life is the principle of handing over.

No matter how long one serves, the day eventually comes when responsibility must pass to another.

The wise leader prepares for that day.

The insecure leader fears it.

The institution depends upon the former.

I have watched responsibility move from one person to another.

The uniform remains.

The office remains.

The duty remains.

The individual moves on.

That is how an institution should function.

Democracy must therefore resist the culture in which political office becomes personal possession.

No leader should regard the institution as an extension of himself.

No party executive should believe that the organization belongs to his generation.

No political financier should assume that financial support purchases permanent influence.

And no delegate should regard delegated authority as personal ownership of another person's political voice.

Leadership is stewardship.

Stewardship means holding something temporarily in trust for a purpose greater than oneself.

THE PEOPLE MUST ALSO LOOK INTO THE MIRROR

But this reflection cannot be directed only at political leaders.

The people themselves must also look into the mirror.

It is easy to demand accountable leadership.

It is harder to become an accountable citizen.

It is easy to complain about corruption.

It is harder to refuse the small inducement offered to us.

It is easy to criticize political manipulation.

It is harder to resist becoming instruments of manipulation ourselves.

Direct participation therefore places a greater responsibility upon the citizen.

When the people are given a greater voice, they must develop the wisdom to use it.

One member, one vote is meaningful only when the member understands the weight of that vote.

The ballot is not merely a weapon against another faction.

It is a trust.

It is an expression of conscience.

It is a declaration about the kind of institution one wishes to inherit.

The people cannot demand that leaders respect democracy while simultaneously abandoning democratic responsibility themselves.

The covenant runs in both directions.

THE COVENANT BETWEEN GENERATIONS

Age has changed the questions I ask.

When I was young, I was concerned primarily with doing my duty.

As responsibility increased, I became increasingly concerned with understanding why institutions succeed or fail.

Now, with the distance that years provide, I find myself asking a different question:

What are we handing over?

That question is deeply familiar to the soldier.

The pace stick is handed over.

The colours are handed over.

The responsibilities of command are handed over.

The regiment remains.

The individual does not own the regiment.

He serves it.

The same must be true of democratic institutions.

Today's leaders are custodians of institutions that tomorrow's citizens must inherit.

We therefore have an obligation to ask whether we are leaving those institutions stronger or weaker than we found them.

The generation before us handed something to us.

We will hand something to those who come after us.

What we do now will become their inheritance.

MY REFLECTION AS A RETIRED SOLDIER AND CITIZEN

I have worn the uniform.

I have served within a hierarchy.

I have carried responsibility.

I have supervised men.

I have answered to those above me and been responsible for those below me.

I have experienced the discipline of the institution and eventually experienced the humility of leaving it.

Retirement reinforced one lesson above all others:

The office was never the person.

The appointment was temporary.

The responsibility was temporary.

The individual was temporary.

The institution remained.

Perhaps that is the wisdom I bring now to this discussion about democracy.

I do not expect political institutions to be perfect.

I do not expect leaders to be infallible.

I do not expect citizens to agree on everything.

But I expect something more fundamental.

I expect us to remember that institutions belong to the future as much as they belong to the present.

If we value personality above institution, personalities will dominate.

If we value money above principle, money will dominate.

If we value faction above country, faction will dominate.

But if we value dignity, accountability, participation, restraint and service, then those values can become part of the inheritance we leave behind.

THE PEOPLE'S COVENANT

This, ultimately, is what I mean by the People's Covenant.

It is not simply a slogan about voting.

It is a moral understanding between citizens and institutions.

It says to leadership:

You are entrusted, not entitled.

It says to the grassroots:

You are participants, not spectators.

It says to the citizen:

Your freedom carries responsibility.

It says to institutions:

You must outlive the personalities who occupy you.

And it says to future generations:

What we preserve today will become your inheritance tomorrow.

The Supreme Court's decision has opened a door.

But opening the door is only the beginning.

The people must walk through it.

Political parties must organize the transition responsibly.

The membership must remain vigilant.

Leadership must resist the temptation to reconstruct the same gatekeeping culture under another name.

And the citizen must understand that direct participation is not merely an entitlement.

It is a responsibility.

For democracy cannot merely change the mechanics of participation.

It must change the culture of ownership.

The citizen must cease to think:

“They will decide.”

And begin to understand:

“We will decide—and we will accept the responsibility that comes with deciding.”

THE FINAL WORD

The Akan proverb says:

“Woforo dua pa a, na yepia wo.”

When you climb a good tree, you receive support.

A good institution should similarly create the conditions under which people are willing to support it—not because they are compelled to do so, but because they trust what it represents.

That is the democracy I hope we continue to build.

A democracy in which the ordinary citizen is not merely remembered at election time.

A democracy in which leadership understands that authority is stewardship.

A democracy in which disagreement does not become disloyalty.

A democracy in which institutions are larger than personalities.

And a democracy in which every generation understands that what it receives is not its private possession.

It is an inheritance.

It is a trust.

It is a covenant.

I have spent much of my life learning how to serve an institution.

In retirement, I have had more time to reflect upon what makes an institution worthy of service.

My conclusion is simple:

An institution is worthy of service when it remembers the people it exists to serve.

That is why I welcome the restoration of the grassroots voice—not as the victory of one political faction over another, but as an opportunity to deepen the democratic culture of our Republic.

The real victory will not be recorded merely in the judgment.

It will be seen in what we do with it.

It will be seen when the ordinary member walks into the voting process knowing that his or her voice is no longer being carried by someone else.

It will be seen when leaders accept that they must earn the confidence of the people directly.

It will be seen when citizens use that freedom with wisdom.

And it will be seen when, years from now, another generation looks back and says:

They received democracy from those before them, they guarded it when it was tested, and they handed it over to us in better condition than they found it.

That, ultimately, is the march.

Not a march toward power.

Not a march toward victory over another.

But a march toward responsible citizenship.

The march continues, not in battle, but in stewardship.

The soldier eventually removes his uniform.

The Regimental Sergeant Major eventually hands over the pace stick.

The commander eventually leaves the headquarters.

But the institution remains.

So must democracy.

Those who lead today must remember that they are passing through.

They are custodians, not owners.

They are stewards, not proprietors.

They are servants of an institution whose life extends beyond their own.

And the people are not merely the ranks of democracy.

They are its sovereign formation.

The covenant belongs to the people.

The responsibility belongs to all.

And the future belongs to the generation we are preparing to inherit it.

That is the People's Covenant.

That is the responsibility of our generation.

And that is the march we must not abandon.

Nana Akwah

Warrant Officer Class One (Retired)

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