The Chairperson, President of the Ghana Journalists’ Association (GJA), the Chairperson of the National Media Commission (NMC), Excellencies, Distinguished Ladies and Gentlemen.
First, let me salute the Ghana Journalists’ Association (GJA) on its 77th anniversary and to thank the organizers of this event for the opportunity offered me to discuss the significance of this anniversary, and the practice of journalism in Ghana today and the future.
The GJA was founded on 15th August 1949, at a time when the Gold Coast was in the midst of a profound political transformation. The organisation began as the Africa Press Association, offering an indigenous alternative to the colonial press. Among the nationalist leaders of that period were journalists, including Osagyefo Dr Kwame Nkrumah, who understood the power of the press in shaping political consciousness. The Association itself subsequently passed through several identities before becoming the Ghana Journalists Association we know today.
History matters, and it reminds us that journalism in Ghana did not begin as a profession concerned only with reporting what happened yesterday. It developed within a society struggling over who had the right to speak, whose interests should define the future, and who should control the narrative of the country. The press was therefore never merely an observer of Ghana’s history — it was part of that history, and that is what makes this anniversary worth marking as more than an ordinary event.
A legacy is not something we inherit merely to admire. It is something we inherit to extend. Extending that legacy requires us to ask whether the journalism of today is still adequately serving the democratic, social and national purposes that gave journalism its importance in the first place. Ghana has travelled a considerable distance since 1949 — from colonial rule through independence,imperialist interventions and the embrace of neo-colonialism. From a press dominated by newspapers to a media environment of radio, television, online platforms, social media and, increasingly, artificial intelligence.
The legal environment has also changed profoundly. Ghana’s 1992 Constitution guarantees the freedom and independence of the media, prohibits censorship subject to constitutional limitations, protects private media from impediments to establishment, and declares that editors and publishers should not be subjected to governmental control or interference. It also explicitly assigns the media a responsibility to uphold the accountability of government to the people. That last point is particularly important. The Constitution does not speak only of the freedom of the media; it speaks of the responsibility of the media. That distinction should be at the heart of our conversation, because press freedom without responsibility can become recklessness, and responsibility without freedom can become submission. We need both: freedom of the media and the responsibility of the media.
Ghana has earned recognition for the progress it has made in media freedom and freedom of expression. UNESCO’s assessment of media development in Ghana describes a vibrant and relatively free media environment and notes the country’s progress in freedom of expression and access to information since 1992. At the same time, the assessment identifies serious concerns, including growing insecurity among journalists, increasing media concentration, and commercial pressures that may threaten media freedom and pluralism. This is the contradiction we must confront. We have more media outlets, more platforms, more voices, more information, and more ways to publish — and yet more information does not automatically produce more public knowledge.
The digital revolution has created an extraordinary abundance of information, but that abundance carries its own problem. When everybody can publish, who verifies? When everybody can comment, who investigates? When everybody can circulate a claim, who establishes whether it is true? The central problem of journalism is therefore no longer simply access to information, but the organisation of truth in a society overwhelmed by information.
This is where the crisis of public trust becomes important. The public does not owe journalism its trust; journalism must earn it — through accuracy, verification, fairness, courage, and the willingness to correct mistakes. The discipline to distinguish evidence from allegation, the determination to investigate the powerful and the patience to listen to those who have no access to power are what earns trust. Media trust is not created by a slogan, and it is not created by telling citizens that journalists are professionals. It is built when a journalist refuses to publish an unverified allegation even though publication would generate enormous attention, and when journalism refuses to become an instrument of political convenience.
This brings us to the subject of power. Journalism exists to scrutinise power, but journalism itself operates within structures of power. Who owns the media? Who finances it? Who determines editorial priorities? Who has access to the newsroom? Who can threaten a journalist’s career, make advertising disappear, or make a journalist’s working environment unbearable? These are not abstract questions. Recent research on Ghana’s media environment has identified the interaction between government interests, ownership influence, financial constraints and editorial independence as significant challenges to the media’s vanguard role. One study found substantial perceptions of government influence and reported that the political affiliations of media owners can affect editorial decisions; other research has similarly examined the relationship between media funding, advertising and editorial autonomy in Ghana. We must be watchful, and we must not allow these pressures to compromise the very foundations of journalism in Ghana.
Freedom from government censorship is not the same as freedom from pressure. This is why the future of journalism must include a serious conversation about media economics: we cannot continuously demand fearless journalism from journalists while ignoring the conditions under which they work. It is also why the safety of journalists must remain central to this conversation. The right to publish means very little if the person exercising that right can be intimidated, attacked or brutalised for doing legitimate journalistic work.
We must defend journalists, but it is equally important that we defend the public from irresponsible journalism. Press freedom cannot mean freedom from accountability. A journalist’s freedom should not be a licence to publish whatever is convenient; it should be valued as a responsibility to pursue truth. That is why we cannot treat ethics as an annual lecture, a code printed in a booklet, or a topic discussed at professional ceremonies. Ethics must be the daily discipline of journalism. The real test of ethical journalism comes when a sensational story is available but cannot be verified, when a vulnerable person’s dignity conflicts with the desire for dramatic images, or when a newsroom must choose between what will generate clicks and what citizens genuinely need to know. These are the moments in which journalism defines itself.
Another question we must confront at this anniversary is, whose Ghana does Ghanaian journalism show us?
On our major news bulletins, we often encounter state officials, corporate executives and institutional authorities. They are important; they hold power and make decisions that affect the country, however the farmer deciding whether farming can still sustain a family, the market woman confronting rising costs, the fisherman trying to preserve a livelihood, the teacher working in difficult conditions, the nurse working another shift, the young person looking for employment and entire communities must not appear in the national news only when disaster strikes. These people are not merely background scenery to the national story; they hold the country in place.
This is where I believe journalism must recover something fundamental: the responsibility to listen, and not only the ability to speak. We need to be concerned about what is happening to the citizens who have no press conferences — what is happening in the communities, and to the worker whose experiences are often reduced to an economic statistic. If journalism is serious about telling the people’s story, it must go where the people are.
For too long, the question of who tells Africa’s story has been treated as a secondary cultural matter. It is not. Narrative is power, and those who define the story often shape how a society understands itself. A Ghanaian journalism worthy of its history must therefore be confident enough to tell Ghana’s story from Ghana’s realities, not simply reproduce narratives about Ghana produced elsewhere. That does not mean isolation. In practice, it means engaging the world without surrendering the authority to interpret our own experience.
Now to the digital transformation. We are now entering a media environment fundamentally different from the one in which many of us were trained. A journalist can publish instantly. A radio programme can reach an audience across the world. A video recorded on a mobile phone can become national news within minutes. Data that once required weeks of research can now be analysed rapidly, and audiences can interact directly with journalists. These are extraordinary opportunities, and we should embrace technology as a tool to expedite our work. But we should not lose sight of the fact that these platforms are not neutral: algorithms determine visibility, and digital systems reward attention, which is often attracted by controversy, outrage and sensationalism. The journalist’s task, however, is not simply to maximise attention, but to determine what the public needs to know. That distinction is crucial.
The internet rewards speed. Journalism requires judgement. A journalist can be first and still be wrong. A journalist can be last and still have produced the most important story of the day. The question, therefore, is not whether journalism can move at digital speed. The question is whether journalism can move at digital speed without abandoning the discipline that makes it journalism. This is where the conversation on artificial intelligence becomes crucial. Much of the discussion about AI in journalism asks whether artificial intelligence will replace journalists. I think the question should rather be: What remains uniquely valuable about journalism when machines can produce information faster and more cheaply than human beings?
AI can help journalists transcribe interviews, process large volumes of information, assist with translation, research and data analysis, and help newsrooms perform tasks that previously consumed enormous amounts of time. These possibilities should be explored, but AI does not remove the journalist’s fundamental responsibility. A machine can generate a paragraph, but it cannot take moral responsibility for the consequences of publishing it. A machine can identify a pattern, but it cannot decide whether that pattern deserves investigation in the public interest. A machine can reproduce information, but it cannot replace the courage required to confront power. And a machine can make untrue information move faster — which is exactly why, the more powerful the technology becomes, the more stringent professional judgement must become.
The future of journalism is not simply knowing how to use AI, but knowing how to question AI, verify AI, challenge AI and take responsibility for what AI produces. Technology must remain a tool. It must never become the ultimate editor.
This brings us back to the central issue: purpose. If journalism becomes merely a content industry, it will be judged by volume. If it becomes merely an advertising industry, it will be judged by revenue and if it becomes merely a digital attention machine, it will be judged by clicks. Journalism is supposed to serve a larger political purpose. It is supposed to help society know itself, expose abuses of power, and provide citizens with the information they need for transformation. It is supposed to investigate what powerful institutions would prefer to remain hidden, give society a space in which competing ideas can confront one another, and ensure that citizens have a place in the national conversation.
That is why the future of journalism cannot be discussed without discussing national development. A democratic society requires informed citizens, and a citizen must be able to ask questions and obtain information. Ghana’s Right to Information Act, 2019 gives legal expression to this principle, providing for access to information held by public institutions and seeking to foster transparency and accountability in public affairs. But laws alone do not create accountability. Information must be sought, documents examined, questions asked, claims tested, and stories told. This is where journalism becomes a public institution rather than simply an occupation.
So, what should the next era of GJA look like? I believe it must become even more indispensable to the future of journalism.
First, it must continue to defend journalists — not only when a journalist is attacked publicly, but by strengthening professional solidarity, legal support, safety training and the institutional mechanisms that allow journalists to work without intimidation.
Second, GJA must help rebuild public trust by demanding the highest professional standards from journalists. It must defend journalists’ right to report but also demand accountability from them.
Third, the GJA must prepare journalists for technological transformation. Training cannot simply teach journalists how to operate new software; it must teach them how technology changes power — how algorithms influence visibility, how artificial intelligence can produce synthetic information, how deepfakes can manipulate public understanding, how digital platforms can affect media economics, and how journalists can use technology without surrendering professional judgement to it.
Fourth, the GJA must help journalism reconnect with society. A healthy media system cannot consist almost entirely of conversations among political elites. The citizens; farmers, traders, fishermen, teachers, nurses, must see themselves in the country’s journalism, not as props or mere victims, but as people whose knowledge and experience matter in building a better Ghana.
There is a responsibility here that belongs not only to journalists. Government and all political players must understand that a free press is not an inconvenience to democracy, but one of its safeguards. Media owners must understand that a sustainable media institution cannot be built by destroying the credibility that gives it value. Journalists must understand that freedom without ethics can destroy the trust upon which journalism depends. Citizens must understand that a healthy media requires citizens who value truth more than rumours.
After 77 years, therefore, the question before the Ghana Journalists Association is not simply how to preserve the institution. It is how to renew its purpose. Ghanaian journalism has survived colonialism, imperialist interventions and draconian laws. It has survived political transitions and the decline of the newspaper’s monopoly. It is now confronting the platform economy, social media, misinformation, artificial intelligence and a rapidly changing media business. Journalism will survive. The question is: what kind of journalism will survive?
Will it be journalism reduced to a content factory, driven by clicks and ratings, so commercially dependent that difficult truths become too expensive to tell? Or will it remain independent, ethical, investigative and connected to the society it serves? That is the choice before us, and it is why this anniversary matters: it is where we decide what part of this history deserves to be carried forward — the courage to challenge power, the professionalism that earns credibility, the defence of press freedom, the commitment to democratic accountability — even as the tools, the economics, the audience and the threats keep changing around us. What must never change is the commitment to truth, to independence, to the public interest and to the dignity of citizens.
When future generations look back at the journalism of our time, they will not judge us by how many platforms we mastered or how quickly we learned to use artificial intelligence. They will judge us by what we did with the freedom, technology and responsibility placed in our hands — whether we defended truth when falsehood was easier, whether we defended freedom when intimidation was safer, whether we investigated power when silence was more comfortable, whether we listened to citizens who had no powerful voices behind them, and whether, at a moment when technology made it possible to speak to everyone, we remembered that journalism’s first responsibility was to listen.
So at 77, the future of journalism is not waiting to be discovered. It is being decided now — in every story we choose to tell, every truth we choose to verify, every abuse of power we choose to expose, and the voices we choose to amplify.
At 77, the task before Ghanaian journalism is not simply to preserve its legacy. It is to make that legacy worthy of the future.
Many thanks for your attention. Happy birthday to the Ghana Journalist’s Association.