By Akua Barden
An international airport is not just a transit point. It is a statement. It is the first conversation a country has with the world. Tourists, diplomats, investors, returning citizens, and first-time visitors who fly into a country all encounter the country first through its airport. Names matter in that moment. Symbols matter. History matters. That is why the debate over whether Ghana’s main international airport should continue to bear the name Kotoka International Airport, revert to its original name, Accra International Airport, or be renamed after Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, who actually built the airport, should not be trivial, sentimental, or partisan.
It is about national identity, values, and what Ghana chooses to honour. As was argued forcefully on Radio Ghana this morning, almost every country names its principal international airport after its capital city or a defining national icon. South Africa has Oliver Tambo International Airport. The United States has John F. Kennedy International Airport. Nigeria has Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport. Kenya has Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. These names are deliberate. They signal continuity, leadership, and democratic legacy.
Ghana’s situation is unique and troubling. Dr. Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first president, Africa’s foremost Pan-Africanist, and a globally recognised statesman, was voted Africa’s Man of the Millennium. His statue stands at the African Union headquarters. In 2025, the United Nations formally recognised him as a world leader and the father of African unity. Yet Ghana’s main international airport carries the name of the man who led a coup against Nkrumah’s government. That contradiction is difficult to defend.
The argument is not merely emotional. It is political, psychological, legal, and historical. Politically, Nkrumah’s name resonates far beyond Ghana. For Africans across the continent and the diaspora, Nkrumah symbolises independence, dignity, and self-determination. To land in Ghana and be welcomed at an airport named after the man who led a coup against him sends a confusing and embarrassing message to the world.
Psychologically and optically, national symbols educate future generations. When a country names its most prominent gateway after a coup maker, it risks normalising unconstitutional behaviour and political violence. It teaches children, subtly but powerfully, that overthrowing elected governments can earn honour and immortality. That is not the lesson a democratic Ghana should pass on.
Legally and historically, Ghana itself has acknowledged the problem of glorifying coups. The Supreme Court’s ruling against the celebration of December 31 as a public holiday was grounded in the need to distance the democratic republic from unconstitutional seizures of power. If that logic applies to holidays, it cannot reasonably be ignored when it comes to monuments and national infrastructure. Comparisons matter. After apartheid, South Africa renamed Johannesburg International Airport after Oliver Tambo, a symbol of resistance and democracy. Russia reversed the revolutionary symbolism of Leningrad, restoring the name St. Petersburg. Countries evolve. Democracies reassess what they honour.
Arguments that the airport sits on La land, and should therefore be named after a local chief, misunderstand the purpose of national infrastructure. Ghana belongs to all its people. The Akosombo Dam flooded lands across multiple regions, yet it serves the nation. Oil comes from the Western Region, yet its benefits are national. No one argues that these assets should be renamed along purely local lines. An international airport is not a stool land monument. It is a national symbol.
Concerns about cost are understandable but unconvincing. Nations routinely bear financial costs to correct historical wrongs and align national symbols with democratic values. Burkina Faso changed its national name. Nigeria moved its capital from Lagos to Abuja. South Africa renamed cities, airports, and institutions after apartheid. These were not cheap exercises, but they were necessary ones. The cost of continued international ridicule, historical inconsistency, and symbolic confusion is far greater. Every Ghanaian who has travelled knows the awkward moment when a foreigner asks, “Who is Kotoka?” Explaining that he was a coup leader who overthrew Africa’s most celebrated statesman is not a story that reflects well on Ghana’s democratic journey.
This debate is not about party politics. It is not about settling old scores. It is about aligning Ghana’s public symbols with its stated values: democracy, constitutional rule, Pan-African leadership, and national pride. Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah did not name the airport after himself when it was built. History, however, has since spoken. Global institutions have spoken. Africa has spoken. What remains is for Ghana to listen. A nation must be deliberate about who it honours. Airports do not just move people. They carry meaning. And what Ghana chooses to inscribe at its gateway tells the world who it believes it is. In this debate, whatever the country decides will be telling. Will the premier international airport of Ghana bear the name of its founder, the capital city where the airport is located, or continue to stand in the name of the coup maker who was gunned down at its forecourt?
