In the last two decades, Ghana has become a nation of trophies. Everywhere you turn, there seems to be an award ceremony waiting to hand out plaques, medals, and citations.
From corporate halls to school auditoriums, from plush hotels to church pulpits, there is hardly a sector left untouched by the awards craze. Businesses, musicians, pastors, politicians, media personalities, even students, there is an award night for each. On the surface, this might seem like a positive trend: recognition, after all, can motivate people to strive for excellence. But when examined closely, the proliferation of awards in Ghana often reveals not a culture of excellence but an obsession with recognition for its own sake.
The tragic irony is that while we may call ourselves a “nation of trophies,” we are not a nation of excellence. Our schools still struggle with poor infrastructure and declining learning outcomes, yet “education awards” are held every few months. Businesses falter under the weight of poor customer service and weak structures, yet “entrepreneur of the year” plaques circulate like leaflets. Ministries and government agencies host elaborate ceremonies to honour themselves, while the citizens they are meant to serve cry out for basic services. The awards industry has thrived because it feeds a deep Ghanaian desire: the thirst to be seen, celebrated, and applauded, even when the substance is missing.
Perhaps no incident better illustrates this hunger than the infamous Dr. UN scandal of 2020. A man by the name of Kwame Fordjour, popularly called Dr. UN, organised what he claimed were United Nations-sponsored awards. With nothing more than charisma, a convincing story, and a set of shiny medals, he managed to gather some of Ghana’s most respected public figures, academics, celebrities, and government officials, and crown them as achievers. Later, it was revealed that the awards had no connection to the UN whatsoever. Yet the event was proof of how easily our leaders and influencers could be lured by the promise of recognition. They posed for photos, gave interviews, and proudly wore their medals, only to be exposed to ridicule when the truth emerged.
The Dr. UN episode was not an isolated scandal but a mirror reflecting our collective weakness. It showed how fragile our understanding of honour has become. In a society where genuine excellence is rarely rewarded, people will grab at any semblance of recognition, even if it comes from questionable sources. That is how an entire industry of awards, many of them dubious, has emerged in Ghana. For a fee, almost anyone can be named a “global achiever,” a “visionary leader,” or a “youth icon.”
The real danger of this trend is that it normalises mediocrity. If everyone can be awarded, then excellence loses its meaning. Awards that should inspire society to reach higher standards instead become cheap commodities. Young people grow up believing that success is measured not by the hard work of building something of value, but by the number of plaques on their shelves. Organisations spend resources chasing trophies instead of improving services. Leaders seek applause instead of accountability.
We must begin to ask ourselves: what does an award really mean? Who is qualified to bestow it? And what systems exist to ensure that recognition is tied to measurable, lasting achievement? Until these questions are answered, Ghana will continue to produce more trophies than true excellence.
The challenge before us is not to stop recognising achievement but to restore integrity to the act of recognition. An award should be a symbol of distinction, not a prop for vanity. If Ghana truly desires to rise as a nation of excellence, then we must start by redefining what we honour and refusing to celebrate mediocrity dressed in trophies.
The author is a United Nations Ambassador, Permanent Representative of WOLMI, Deputy Chief Governor, ICC (International Consultative Cabinet) to ECOSOC U.N., New York headquarters, Northeastern Affairs
Source: newsghana.com.gh
