I was eager to watch the engagement between President John Dramani Mahama and Civil Society Organisations yesterday. Truly eager. For once, it felt as though Ghana might finally confront its greatest environmental crime head-on. I tuned in with anticipation, expecting piercing questions, uncomfortable truths, and a bold confrontation of power.
What I saw was mixed. There was far too much praise singing. Too many voices sounded like they were reciting scripts of flattery instead of holding leaders accountable. Yet, I will not discount the few who stood tall. Franklin Cudjoe of IMANI, for example, asked the hard questions. How do we fund this war? How do we prosecute offenders? How do we resource this fight so it is not just rhetoric? The Minister’s answer was an admission that cut deep: the budget is small. That was the truth. How do you win a war without a war chest? How do you call illegal miners “environmental terrorists” but fight them with empty pockets? The Minister went on to urge corporate Ghana to support the fight. But why should corporate Ghana carry a burden that government has the constitutional duty to shoulder?
And yet, the announcements were not without weight. The Attorney General has ordered Chairman Wontumi to show up on Monday, October 6, or face arrest. He has promised to lay in Parliament on October 14 an instrument to revoke L.I. 2462, the regulation that opened the door to mining in forest reserves. He has secured the Chief Justice’s commitment to set up specialised courts for illegal mining prosecutions. These steps, if followed through, could turn the page.
President Mahama, for his part, has said he will only declare a state of emergency if the National Security Council advises it. At the same time, he has pleaded with civil society and faith-based groups: “Continue putting fire under our feet to win the fight against galamsey.” That is not just encouragement. It is a confession that without pressure, the state slips back into comfort.
The Lands Minister dropped another bombshell. For the past eight years, not a single excavator brought into Ghana has gone through DVLA registration. Think about that. Giant machines capable of carving valleys out of rivers entered this country without a paper trail. That is not oversight. That is systemic collusion.
The National Inter-Agency Taskforce on Illegal Mining, NAIMOS, came in breathing fire. Colonel Dominic Buah, its Operations Head, outlined a military-style operation. Ghana has been zoned into seven galamsey regions, further divided into 21 sectors. Four hundred troops have already been deployed, with drones, surveillance, and around-the-clock patrols. Illegal miners are to be treated as environmental terrorists. Financiers, he warned, will be smoked out. A 24-hour toll-free line will soon be launched for citizens to report. On paper, it sounds like war at last.
And yet, the paradox lingers. Small-scale mining now provides 52 percent of Ghana’s gold output, but it is also the single largest driver of environmental ruin. Rivers are poisoned, forests stripped, communities turned into craters. This is why selective justice will not cut it. Citizens watching the event asked the right question: why only Akonta Mining and Wontumi? What about the NDC-linked actors whose names are already sitting in the Attorney General’s files? If the law becomes a machete swung at one side and a pillow for the other, then this is not justice. It is theatre.
Because galamsey thrives not because of one company or one party, but because excavators roam without fear. As long as a machine, diesel, and impunity can meet in the bush, Ghana will bleed. Destroying this business model requires one thing: make the excavator too costly to own, too risky to deploy, too certain to be seized. That is how you bend the cartel’s cost-benefit calculus.
So yes, I was eager to watch. Yes, I saw flashes of courage, a few moments of honesty. But overall, I left with the taste of a song I have heard too many times. Too much praise, too little piercing. A nation that wants to roar still whispers.
Monday is the test. If Wontumi walks into court or is dragged there in cuffs, Ghana may yet believe this is more than words. But if this turns into another show of selective justice, then all the drones, patrols, speeches, and praise songs will not save our rivers. Monday will speak. The question is, will it whisper, or will it roar?
Kay Codjoe is an independent writer and an associate of IMANI
