Copyright modernghana
Ghana stands at a paradoxical crossroads. We are a nation rich in promise yet poor in progress; blessed with resources yet cursed with waste. Every election brings new hope, every loan agreement a fresh round of optimism. But the story always ends the same way — incomplete hospitals, crumbling roads, ghost schools, and debts that outlive the governments that incurred them. We ask why the nation cannot seem to move forward despite the billions borrowed in its name. The answer is not far to seek. It lies in the dark corridors of power, wrapped in brown envelopes, exchanged with knowing smiles. Of all the forms of corruption that have crippled Ghana’s development, none is more dangerous, more deceptive, and more socially accepted than the kickback. It is the hidden tax on every public project, the invisible hand that steals from the poor and pays the powerful. It masquerades as normal business practice — a “commission,” a “thank-you,” a “facilitation fee” — yet it is, in truth, a knife placed at the nation's throat. It cuts not once but continually, draining the lifeblood of every sector that should sustain us: energy, defense, education, health, roads, and industry. What makes kickback lethal is not only the money it steals but the morality it kills. It has quietly reshaped our understanding of public service. It teaches that office is an opportunity, not a trust; that loyalty to party outweighs loyalty to country; that “everybody does it,” so no one dares object. It has turned patriotism into a performance and governance into a marketplace. The nation now bleeds through its budgets, its contracts, and its conscience. Kickback is not just a crime; it is a culture. It has become so embedded in our political system that we hardly recognize it as theft anymore. Yet it is this culture — invisible, pervasive, and unpunished — that explains why Ghana remains indebted despite decades of borrowing. Until the nation confronts this truth, no economic plan, however sophisticated, can save it. 1. What a Kickback Is The most disturbing form in Ghana is the cash kickback. Physical envelopes of money change hands—sometimes even before the contract is awarded. The exchange is swift, silent, and untraceable. It is a ritual of power and complicity that now defines how business is done in the public sector. 2. Why Kickbacks Are More Dangerous and Insidious Than Theft Ordinary theft steals from a purse; a kickback steals from people's future. Its danger lies in its invisibility. Every document appears proper, and every invoice is justified. A road may be built, but it costs twice what it should. A hospital may rise, but its walls crack within a year. The harm is diffuse—spread thinly across society, so no one can quite point to the moment the theft occurred. Kickbacks are also morally corrosive. They normalize deceit. When “facilitation fees” become routine, citizens no longer see them as criminal. A businessman who refuses to pay is mocked as naïve. Civil servants who demand transparency are sidelined. Over time, dishonesty becomes the rule and integrity the exception. Worse still, kickbacks entrench power. They create networks of mutual protection—politicians, bureaucrats, and contractors bound by a shared sense of guilt. To expose one is to expose all. Whistleblowers are punished, investigations stalled, and reform becomes politically suicidal. The system defends itself by making corruption too costly to challenge. 3. The Cash Kickback Syndrome In Ghana, kickbacks are often paid in physical cash precisely to avoid detection. The process is crude but effective. Contractors convert project funds into hard currency, withdraw them from accounts, and deliver the money through intermediaries to politicians, party offices, or senior bureaucrats. Once distributed, the cash leaves no audit trail. The scale is staggering. In some public works projects, nearly half of the capital disappears through kickbacks before construction even begins. When Ghana borrows one hundred million dollars to build roads, only fifty million may reach the site. The rest vanishes into the pockets of officials and political patrons. The consequences are everywhere: uncompleted hospitals, abandoned housing schemes, and highways that begin with fanfare and end in weeds. Each new administration pretends to start anew, not because the old projects are unworthy, but because the old kickbacks have already been spent. The country borrows again, pays again, and loses again. 4. The Economic and Moral Cost Kickbacks have hollowed out the nation’s development. Their economic toll is immense. Inflated contracts bleed the treasury and distort fiscal planning. The state borrows more than it needs and pays for projects that exist only on paper. Every inflated tender translates into higher taxes and heavier debt burdens. Investors notice. They avoid environments where contracts are won through bribery rather than merit. Those who remain inflate their prices to offset the “unofficial costs,” making Ghanaian infrastructure among the most expensive in the region. But the deeper wound is moral. Kickbacks destroy trust—the invisible currency that holds a nation together. When citizens believe everyone in power is corrupt, civic duty dies. Teachers lose faith in sacrifice; public servants lose pride in honesty. The young learn that connections, not competence, determine success. What begins as a fiscal problem becomes a spiritual one: a society that rewards corruption trains itself for mediocrity. 5. Why Enforcement Fails Even when scandals erupt, prosecutions are selective. One government investigates the previous one, not out of virtue, but out of vengeance. When the political tables turn, the cycle repeats. The message is clear: corruption is punished only when it changes parties. The use of cash completes the protection. Unlike digital transfers, cash leaves no footprint. Investigators cannot trace it, auditors cannot quantify it, and courts cannot convict without evidence. Add to this the culture of silence—journalists intimidated, whistleblowers unprotected—and enforcement collapses before it begins. Public apathy seals the coffin. After decades of unkept promises, Ghanaians shrug off each new scandal as inevitable. The greatest ally of corruption is no longer greed—it is hopelessness. 6. The Politics of Recycling Projects Every new government inherits half-built projects, yet instead of completing them, it launches new ones. This is not bad planning; it is deliberate design. Old projects mean old kickbacks—profits already eaten. New projects mean new opportunities for personal growth and advancement. Thus, development becomes a revolving door of deceit. Hospitals, schools, and roads remain uncompleted, not because funds are lacking but because completion yields no kickback. Politicians prefer the drama of groundbreaking ceremonies to the quiet discipline of finishing. The result is a national landscape littered with the bones of abandoned ambition. Ghana’s debt continues to rise, not from investment in growth but from the weight of its own corruption. We borrow to build and build to steal. The citizens pay interest on loans that produced nothing but political theater. If this country is to survive, it must first tell itself the truth: corruption is not a misfortune that happens to us; it is a choice we have made. Until that choice changes—until the giver and receiver of kickbacks are shamed, prosecuted, and banished from public life—no amount of borrowing or prayer will redeem the nation. Ghana does not need more loans; it needs moral courage. For as long as cash changes hands behind closed doors, every shovel that breaks ground will dig our common grave.
