"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."
—Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love

Nations honour brave soldiers for a reason. They face bullets, sometimes death, yet they put country above self. Their sacrifices live on in the nation’s memory, celebrated as the highest form of courage, sacrifice, and patriotism.

Ghana faces its own battlefield today: the fight against galamsey. Illegal mining is poisoning our rivers, stripping our forests, and endangering the future of our children.

I have written before on this same platform that galamsey is destroying what I call our sacred tabernacles—our forests, rivers, and farmlands—gifts from our forebears that we are meant to preserve, not plunder.


This is not just an environmental crisis. It is an assault on our very survival as a people, particularly in the communities where galamsey is running rampant.

Yet in the face of this national emergency, our Presidents and the political leadership offer little more than excuses—tepid, cautious, politically convenient, and ultimately evasive responses.

This is not leadership. It is abdication. It is a shame, a blot on our political class. To speak plainly: it is moral cowardice.

Leadership demands more than technical know-how, a genial personality, or the ability to win elections. Leadership requires moral courage—the willingness to act decisively, even when it is unpopular, even when it comes at significant personal or political cost, as the late Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us.

Just as soldiers risk their lives in combat, our leaders must be willing to risk their popularity, their petty political alliances, and even their political fortunes for the good of the nation. Anything less is weakness disguised as pragmatism.

The truth is painful but unavoidable: to me, our leaders, beginning with our Presidents, lack moral courage. This is the bitter truth.

Men and women of conviction must be bold to say this openly. The unwillingness to confront galamsey head-on is not simply a policy failure; it is a moral one.
Every poisoned river, every cocoa farm sacrificed to greed, every barren field left behind is a testimony to leaders who chose comfort over conviction—political convenience over the welfare of our people.

History will not remember the speeches or the excuses. It will remember the destruction—and not just the leaders who stood by while it happened, but those of us who were silent.