Let’s be honest — isn’t it remarkable how, no matter which party is in power, Ghana’s governments keep making the same basic but ultimately costly mistake?
You’d think with each passing administration, we’d learn from the past and build better systems — especially when it comes to something as fundamental and powerful as communication. But no.
Time and again, we witness successive governments falling into a familiar trap: turning government communication into an emotional, combative spectacle rather than a strategic, thoughtful tool for nation-building.
Effective political communication remains a powerful currency. It is the invisible thread that connects government to the governed, transforming policies into public understanding and, ideally, public support.
Yet, increasingly, the tone and style of official government communication in Ghana reveal a worrying trend — one that prioritises knee-jerk reactions over strategy, ego over empathy, and partisan loyalty over national cohesion.
The state of public discourse, especially as managed by official government communicators, needs urgent introspection and realignment.
Communication from the corridors of power must be more than reactionary statements or partisan rebuttals. It must be grounded in both the science and the art of strategic messaging — intentional, data-driven, emotionally intelligent and purpose-led.
The art and science of communication
Communication — especially in the realm of governance — is far more than the act of speaking or issuing statements.
It is a carefully structured discipline, a delicate balance of method and message. At its best, it is a seamless blend of science and art. And it is precisely this balance that many of our government communicators fail to grasp or respect.
The science of communication involves precision and strategy. It is rooted in understanding who you are speaking to (audience segmentation), crafting the right message that resonates (framing), choosing the appropriate channel (media selection) and timing the delivery for maximum impact.
It is about anticipating public reaction, managing narratives and measuring feedback. Communication science is data-informed — it draws from psychology, behavioural economics, linguistics and media theory.
Now consider this: how many times do government responses in Ghana reflect this kind of structured thinking? How often do we see press briefings that are backed by research, clearly segmented for specific publics — such as youth, civil society, market women or small business owners?
Too often, government communication is blanket and blunt — a one-size-fits-all response delivered in an impromptu manner, usually after public outrage has already peaked.
The art of communication, on the other hand, is about the human element. It demands empathy — the ability to sense what citizens are feeling. It calls for tact — the skill to address criticism without inflaming it.
It thrives on storytelling — the power to weave policy into relatable narratives that touch people’s lives. It requires cultural intelligence — understanding the nuances of Ghana’s diverse communities, languages and sensitivities.
Take, for instance, the public’s reaction to economic hardships. In such moments, it is not enough for a government communicator to cite GDP figures or blame external factors. Citizens want their pain acknowledged.
They want to hear a voice that doesn’t just explain, but connects. One that says: “Yes, we know times are hard — and here’s what we’re doing, step by step, to make things better”.
Unfortunately, many government communicators in Ghana reduce their role to that of a megaphone — delivering media soundbites, launching political jabs or issuing impassioned yet shallow defenses of government policies.
This approach strips communication of both its science and its art. It becomes performative, instead of persuasive. And in an era of social media virality and citizen journalism, such shallow messaging not only fails to convince — it often backfires.
In a time when Ghanaians are grappling with deep economic strain, growing youth unemployment and rising disillusionment with political leadership, communication cannot be reduced to public relations stunts or finger-pointing.
Citizens do not merely want to hear from their leaders; they want to feel heard. That requires less emotional labour — the constant defensive energy of feeling personally attacked — and more strategic positioning: knowing when to speak, how to speak and why it matters.
Bridging the gap, not widening it
When a person is appointed to speak on behalf of the government — be it as a minister, a presidential spokesperson or even a party communicator — they inherit a responsibility far greater than defending a political brand.
They become the vital link between governance and the governed, between state action and public understanding. In other words, they become the bridge.
But in Ghana today, that bridge is crumbling under the weight of partisanship, ego and unrefined communication tactics. Instead of acting as conduits for clarity, many communicators end up widening the gap between government and citizens.
The truth is, the role of a government communicator is not to win debates — it is to build trust. And trust is not built through defensiveness or bravado.
When communicators treat media interviews like courtroom battles, they alienate listeners who are genuinely trying to understand policies. When dissenting views are dismissed as “propaganda” or “ignorance,” it sends a clear message: criticism is unwelcome, and dialogue is not valued.
Let’s not forget: in a democratic state, dissent is not a threat. It is a vital part of national discourse. Citizens asking questions, challenging policies and expressing frustration should not be viewed as adversaries. They are stakeholders — and in many cases, they are right.
Unfortunately, many press conferences have become stages for political theatre rather than platforms for accountability. Speakers spend more time pointing fingers than explaining solutions. Language becomes inflammatory.
Body language is defensive. Journalists are interrupted. Critics are mocked. And in the end, very little real communication happens.
This posture not only undermines public trust, but it also betrays a deeper insecurity within the government apparatus — a fear of being questioned, of being wrong, of being held accountable. But government communication cannot operate from a place of fear. It must operate from a place of confidence, empathy and strategic foresight.
To truly bridge the gap, communicators must shift their approach. That means investing in listening — not just speaking. It means designing two-way communication platforms where citizens can engage with policy-makers directly.
It means simplifying complex policies into digestible narratives that empower rather than confuse. And it means showing humility — admitting when the government could have done better and outlining steps to improve.
Bridging the communication gap in Ghana is not a luxury. It is a necessity. Because when trust breaks down, governance becomes fragile. And when communication becomes a war of words, the real losers are the citizens.
Trust is the goal, not just loyalty
If there is one commodity more valuable than political loyalty, it is public trust. Loyalty may win elections, but trust sustains governance.
In Ghana, however, government communication often seems obsessed with shoring up party loyalty, especially among core supporters, rather than cultivating broad-based trust that transcends party lines. This is a short-sighted approach — and ultimately, a costly one.
The real test of government communication is not how loudly you can silence opposition or how frequently you can command applause from your political base.
The true measure lies in how the wider citizenry perceives your credibility, especially during tough times. Because in a democracy, governance is not just about ruling — it’s about serving, and service is impossible without trust.
Trust is not built through hollow affirmations of success or endless repetition of slogans. It is built through consistency, clarity and candour. It is built when citizens see that their leaders are honest enough to admit when things aren’t perfect, and brave enough to explain what steps are being taken to fix them.
Let’s take a few real-world examples. During an economic downturn — like the one Ghana recently faced — the worst mistake a government communicator can make is to deflect blame entirely or act as if nothing is wrong.
Citizens are living the reality every day: they feel the rising prices in the markets, they see their cedi lose value, they experience the frustration of joblessness. When the government’s narrative completely denies that pain or fails to acknowledge the human impact, it creates a disconnect that erodes trust.
Similarly, when corruption allegations surface, a defensive “us-versus-them” attitude only fuels suspicion. Instead of attacking the media or political opponents, government communicators should adopt a more mature, transparent approach: acknowledge the concern, commit to investigations and keep the public updated. This kind of open, proactive communication signals integrity and steadiness — qualities that foster long-term credibility.
Emotional labour vs. Emotional intelligence
One of the most overlooked challenges in government communication is managing emotion — not just in the content of messaging, but in the attitude and demeanour of the messenger. In this space, a crucial distinction must be made: emotional labour is not the same as emotional intelligence.
Emotional labour is the exhausting effort to maintain a calm, professional front, especially in the face of public criticism, heated debates or media pressure. It is about performance — appearing unbothered while privately feeling the strain.
But emotional intelligence is deeper. It is the capacity to understand emotions — both your own and others’ — and to use that understanding to respond in ways that are thoughtful, measured and effective.
This is what Ghana’s government communicators desperately need: not the theatre of composure, but the wisdom of insight.
All too often, what we see, instead, are spokespersons who become visibly agitated during interviews, who attack personalities instead of addressing issues, and who equate criticism with sabotage. This kind of emotionally reactive communication is counterproductive.
It may rally the party faithful for a moment, but it alienates the moderate, thinking majority who are looking for mature, level-headed leadership.
An emotionally intelligent communicator, by contrast, listens actively, speaks calmly and responds with facts, not fury. They recognise when the public mood is tense, and they adjust their tone accordingly. They understand that humility in communication is not weakness — it is strength. And they are secure enough in their message that they do not need to shout to be heard.
In a political culture like ours — where communication is often seen as a fight to be won rather than a relationship to be nurtured — emotional intelligence can be revolutionary. It can help de-escalate tensions, clarify misinformation and build bridges between opposing sides.
The way forward
The current state of government communication in Ghana calls for more than mild reform — it demands a paradigm shift. It is time to move away from the outdated model of top-down, combative, partisan messaging and toward a more inclusive, strategic and citizen-centred communication culture.
First, training is non-negotiable. Every public official tasked with speaking on behalf of the state — from ministers to municipal PROs — must be equipped with foundational knowledge in strategic communication. This includes media relations, crisis communication, message framing and digital literacy. Communication is not instinctive; it is a craft. And like any craft, it requires continuous sharpening.
Second, strategic preparation should replace improvisation. Government communicators must stop treating media engagements as spontaneous performances.
Before stepping into any public space, they should undergo strategic briefing sessions — not just receive talking points, but understand the broader context, the likely questions, the emotional temperature of the audience and the communication objective.
Third, social media must be reimagined. It cannot remain a space for clapbacks and party propaganda. It must evolve into a platform for real-time feedback, citizen education and government accountability. Posts should be informative, timely and respectful — not defensive, sarcastic or demeaning.
Most importantly, communicators must remember that they are not just the voice of a political party — they are the voice of a government entrusted with the welfare of an entire nation. Their words carry weight. Their tone sets the mood. Their consistency (or lack of it) shapes public perception.
Ghana deserves better than reactionary soundbites and combative commentary. We deserve communication that elevates the national conversation, not cheapens it. Communication that heals, not divides; that explains, not obscures; that listens, not lectures.
It is time we moved from reaction to strategy, from emotion to insight, and from defensiveness to leadership in our public discourse. Government communication should not just echo political interests — it should amplify national interest.
Because in the end, communication is not just about what is said — it is about what is understood, remembered, and believed.
