The recent legal troubles of Bernard Antwi Boasiako, popularly known as Chairman Wontumi, have reignited an uncomfortable but necessary national conversation about power, privilege, and accountability.

Though he rose to prominence during the previous Akufo-Addo administration,
his case now tests whether Ghana’s institutions can finally apply the law without fear or political calculation.

For years, Wontumi symbolized the fusion of business, politics, and influence. His words carried political weight, and his actions often seemed to defy regulation.

Yet today, he stands before the same laws he once appeared to mock. The question Ghanaians must now ask is not only about his personal guilt or innocence, but about what his rise and fall reveal about the culture of impunity that flourished under the previous government.

Was the NPP unaware of the excesses and arrogance that defined his public persona? Or was it aware but unwilling to confront a loyal ally? Either answer exposes a painful truth.

If ignorance prevailed, it speaks to weak internal oversight and moral blindness. If silence prevailed, it shows that political loyalty often outweighs integrity.

The Wontumi episode reflects a pattern that has long plagued Ghana’s governance: impunity that survives through complicity. Too often, political parties protect individuals whose power lies not in principle but in money and mobilization. When accountability finally comes, the same institutions that once looked away act as though they never saw the warning signs.

This culture of selective outrage is not limited to one man or one government. It is a national malaise. The same moral indifference that allows illegal mining to destroy our rivers also allows public funds meant for the poor to be diverted for personal or political image-building.

Whether the damage is physical or institutional, the result is the same—public suffering and private enrichment. For the NPP, this moment should prompt sober reflection. Leadership is not tested when opponents fall; it is tested when allies err.

The credibility of any party lies in its willingness to hold its own accountable. To pretend shock now is to confess moral negligence then.
For ordinary Ghanaians, there is also a civic lesson.

Our tolerance for wrongdoing—when it benefits our preferred political side—keeps the cycle alive. Accountability is not partisan; it is patriotic.

Until citizens demand consistency in justice, corruption will continue to recycle itself under new names and faces.

Wontumi’s case, therefore, is more than a personal downfall. It is a mirror held up to the nation. It asks whether we are ready to build a Ghana where power no longer immunizes wrongdoing.

The outcome of this case will matter less than whether we, as a people, choose to learn from it. Because the real danger is not that Wontumi fell—it’s that the system that created him still stands, untouched.