Recently, in his column “I stand for Ghana not Ghanaians,” German political scientist and historian Karl‑Heinz Heerde offered a candid critique of Ghana’s social and governance dynamics, arguing that the country’s lived reality often diverges from what might be considered “normal” functioning in a healthy democratic society. Drawing on his years living and teaching about Ghana, Heerde suggests that many structural and behavioral patterns in the nation fall short of expectations for stability, prosperity, and institutional coherence — a premise that resonates deeply with my own observations.

This “not normal” condition does not imply a defect in citizens’ capacity, culture, or democratic structures. Rather, I have found that it highlights a misalignment between institutional expectations and human behavior: a system where a sizeable minority, often strategically positioned in critical institutions, prioritizes personal advancement over public service, while the broader population adjusts to survive within these patterns.

Governance is often analyzed through laws, policies, and structural frameworks. Yet, I have consistently observed that the deeper determinant of outcomes is the mindset carried into institutions. A sizeable minority carries into public life a self-serving orientation, disproportionately influencing institutions. Their decisions — whether in ministries, departments, or enforcement agencies — ripple across society. Even when numerically limited, their influence shapes rules, norms, and the lived experience of the majority.

From my experience in the civil service, it is evident that a minority with intent can shape the destiny of many, while a majority without principle merely adapts. During reforms, I saw firsthand how a few key officers determined outcomes while the broader workforce conformed to prevailing norms, illustrating this principle in action.

Systemic dysfunction rarely emerges suddenly. It evolves gradually: deviation occurs, improper actions are quietly tolerated, and eventually, misconduct becomes normalized. Officials often rationalize these patterns with phrases like “This is how the system works.” Minor procurement violations, left unchecked, became standard operating procedures in some ministries, demonstrating how tolerance leads to entrenched practices. I have observed that where self-interest finds reward, service finds silence; the absence of enforcement signals to participants that compromise is more valuable than principle.

Integrity often comes at a personal and social cost. Officers who insist on due process or strict adherence to rules may disrupt established patterns, unsettle predictable personal gain, or face isolation or subtle retaliation.

Military officers enforcing strict codes of conduct, for example, sometimes saw stalled promotions or transfers to less influential units. In my experience, the honest officer may therefore be cast as an enemy, not because he is wrong, but because he disturbs comfort. Honesty in such contexts is not merely ethical; it is revolutionary.

Political activism, a cornerstone of democracy, can evolve into transactional participation. Loyalty becomes currency, campaign work an investment expecting return, and electoral victory a moment for personal gain. Grassroots activists sometimes prioritize securing appointments or contracts over advancing policy or community welfare.

I have often noted that loyalty without principle becomes currency, and participation without purpose becomes investment. This transactional mindset reinforces a cycle: activism leads to political access, which translates into institutional influence, which in turn enables personal gain.

Mindsets are further reinforced by systemic incentives. Systems that fail to punish misconduct or fail to reward integrity send a clear message: adapt or be excluded. New entrants quickly learn that formal rules often diverge from practice. Over time, adaptation replaces resistance, and misconduct becomes normalized.

Ministries tolerating minor violations trained staff to “work around” rules rather than follow them, embedding opportunism into institutional culture. In my observation, rules enforced inconsistently are invitations to opportunism; the system teaches that discretion is often less about service and more about survival.

It is tempting to blame society at large. Yet Ghana continues to demonstrate democratic resilience, civic awareness, and enduring communal values. The real challenge is institutional vulnerability, not societal incapacity. I have seen whistleblowers in the Auditor-General’s office face retaliation, not because society lacked integrity, but because institutions failed to protect them. Governance is defended in the daily choices of those who serve, whether teachers, healthcare workers, or civil servants, sustaining national function amid systemic weaknesses.

The central challenge can be reframed: a sizeable, influential minority operates within and benefits from institutional gaps, while the majority adapts to survive within the system. This reframing shifts analysis from blaming society to understanding how influence and incentives shape behavior. From my perspective, if a minority can shape decline, a disciplined minority can spark renewal.

Practical steps toward renewal include consistent enforcement of rules without exception, protection for principled individuals so integrity carries no disproportionate personal cost, alignment of incentives where honesty and competence are rewarded, and civic recalibration so society values contribution over visible wealth. Reform teams in the Ghana Revenue Authority, for example, improved tax compliance despite systemic resistance, demonstrating that principled action within institutions is possible.

Governance is not sustained by statutes alone. It is shaped by what society permits, what it tolerates, and what it chooses to defend. I have learned that the decisive factor is principled, disciplined action within the system.

Governance thrives not only in law and procedure but in the daily choices of those entrusted to serve. If a minority can influence dysfunction, a conscientious minority can also guide reform, illustrating that the fate of institutions often hinges on the moral courage of those who dare to serve with integrity.