In the heartbeat of our cultural legacy lies a sacred code: reverence. Reverence not just for elders and ancestors, but for the symbols, customs, and institutions that have kept our societies grounded for centuries. Among these, the chieftaincy institution stands tall—a custodian of tradition, history, and identity.
Once upon a time, in the villages and towns of Ghana, the name of a chief was spoken with measured breath. His presence inspired silence. His stool, whether gold or carved from humble wood, was not just furniture—it was a spiritual embodiment of a people’s authority, memory, and collective pride. Children were taught to greet a chief with downcast eyes and bent knees. Stories were told around fires about the bravery of ancestors who defended not only lands, but honour—honour tied directly to their thrones.
But today, in the age of viral posts and trending hashtags, we are witnessing a troubling erosion of this sacred reverence. A new culture is emerging—loud, brash, and disrespectful. On the platforms of social media, thrones are now memes, chiefs are subjects of ridicule, and tribal leadership is weighed on the trivial scales of visibility, social media followers, and public acclaim.
This is not merely a generational shift. It is a silent war against dignity, an unconscious rebellion against the very roots that hold our nation together.
Why must one chief be disrespected in order to elevate another? Why has recognition turned into rivalry, and identity into insult?
The new discourse suggests that a throne must be famous to be revered. That unless a king trends, he is irrelevant. This toxic mindset is sowing discord across our regions. It is pitting one tribe against another, one kingdom against the next, as citizens begin to rank their leaders based on perceived prominence.
As a loyal son of the Ga State, shall I rise in celebration of the Ga Mantsɛ while throwing verbal stones at the Chief of Adeiso, Barima Asare Oduro II? Can such a citizen expect the people of Adeiso—dignified and proud—to remain silent?
This behavior is not merely rude—it is dangerous. In our multi-ethnic society, where every region, language, and clan
contributes to the Ghanaian identity, the desecration of one throne becomes an insult to us all. A slight to one chief is a slight to the tradition of chieftaincy itself.
What begins as a joke, a comment, a tweet, can swiftly spiral into tribal tensions, into disputes that go beyond the digital sphere and enter our streets, our schools, our homes. Is this the legacy we wish to leave for our children?
Let it be declared clearly and without ambiguity: no traditional ruler is more important than another. While the scale of a kingdom may differ, the essence of leadership remains the same. Every chief rules not over land alone, but over stories, over souls, over heritage.
A stool may not be adorned in gold or accompanied by trumpeting praise, but its value lies in the hearts of those it leads.
The people of every village—from the coast of Elmina to the hills of Akyem—look to their traditional leaders not just for governance, but for identity. Disrespecting a chief is akin to desecrating the spiritual ground upon which a community stands.
It is time we remembered this. It is time we taught this again in our schools, in our homes, and especially in our digital interactions. It is time we reminded ourselves that the strength of our nation lies in our ability to honour all its parts.
For even in nature, no tree despises the root of another. And no river mocks the source from which it flows.
This message is not merely a lament—it is a plea. A plea to our revered Kings and Chiefs, whose voices still carry the moral weight of a nation. Your Majesties, your people are watching. They are echoing your silence and misinterpreting it as endorsement.
We know you are dignified. We know you believe in unity. But now, more than ever, your intervention is required. Not in war, but in wisdom. Speak—not to defend your own stools, but to protect the institution itself.
Call your people to order. Address the disrespect festering under the guise of tribal loyalty. Remind the youth that tradition is not an ornament to be mocked, but a foundation to be upheld.
For if we allow this decay to persist, the thrones may remain, but the respect that sustains them will vanish. And when the respect dies, the unity dies. And when unity dies, what shall remain of this great nation?
From the center of Accra, Gã Mashie, I cringe with fear of what the future holds.
Let us return, then, to the language of respect. Let us speak once more with honour. Let our posts reflect pride, not provocation. Let our mouths bless, not belittle.
For in peace lies our strength. And in unity, our true heritage.
Peace. Shalom. Asomdwee.
Written By: Michael Okuley.
