At about 7:10 a.m. this morning, over coffee, a familiar debate came up again—this time about the President flying on his brother’s private jet.
This time, it was with my old schoolmate, Simon Dagadu—49 years old, father of four—who recently made a bold shift. He quit his bank job, bought a tractor, and now farms bell peppers near Mamfe.
It struck me how quickly we move from optics to outrage, often without pausing to ask a simpler question: what is the practical alternative?
If the presidential jet is undergoing servicing—or we are in the process of procuring a new one—then using an available private jet, even one owned by a relative, is not inherently wrong. In fact, it can be the more responsible choice. Chartering equivalent aircraft on the open market comes at a significant cost to the taxpayer. Using an available private asset in the interim may well be the more prudent path.
The argument that this creates some undue advantage for my long time friend Ibrahim Mahama also feels misplaced. Influence at that level is not created by a single flight. Relationships of that nature are longstanding, visible, and already well understood. A trip on a jet does not suddenly confer proximity—it merely reflects it.
Where I think the discomfort truly lies is elsewhere. The President himself has not personally addressed the issue. Not that I think that he should. But when citizens don’t have enough details and are left guessing, even ordinary decisions begin to look extraordinary.
That said, in the absence of any clear evidence of wrongdoing, we must be careful not to expend disproportionate energy on matters that may ultimately be administrative and temporary.
Because bushes are burning that have the President’s full attention.
Simon, for instance, is not debating jets on his farm. He is dealing with irrigation, access to markets, price volatility, and whether his peppers will reach Accra in time without losses. A young graduate—like my nephew—still searching for work years after university. Hospitals stretched without enough beds. Workers commuting daily without reliable buses. The quiet crisis of urban flooding every rainy season. Illegal mining continuing to threaten our water bodies. And a 24-hour economy policy that will require real private sector coordination—not just ambition—to succeed.
Perspective matters.
Let us ask questions, yes. Let us demand transparency, always. But let us also focus our collective attention where it will move the needle for the many—not just the moment.
