In a joint interview, JURIST Chief of Staff for Africa Lana Osei and Associate Editorial Director Alanah Vargas speak with veteran Ghanaian journalist Kwaku Sakyi-Danso as he reflects on his 24-year career covering Ghana’s Parliament during the media’s evolution from military to civilian rule. He speaks candidly about the threat untrained bloggers pose to public trust, the ethical responsibilities of accredited journalists, and his growing focus on regional parliamentary affairs.
You’ve reported from the Parliament of Ghana for over two decades. How has the relationship between the press and political power evolved during that time?
I have reported from the Ghanaian Parliament for 24 years. Ghana as a nation moved from a military era to a civilian era. I would say it has not been an easy journey. The Ghanaian media really fought very hard for our freedom. From the beginning, reporting from Parliament, [we] had to be careful what to say and what not to say. A vibrant civil society came to the aid of journalists—especially if they saw anything that was trying to gag journalists. Also, with the proliferation of many radio stations and TV stations, the Ghanaian public is really conscious, so that has also helped. The Ghanaian public demands a lot from journalists—especially regarding Parliament. They want to know what is happening.
I would say we are free, but there is still room for improvement in the way politicians relate with journalists in Parliament. I should say we have a breed of journalists who are fearless and who really want to put issues out there in the public domain. A politician may be your friend, but being my friend should not stop me from doing my professional work. So it has been a wonderful journey. It has its own ups and downs. The kinds of journalists we have in Parliament are very aggressive journalists who will even work if their media house will not pay for it. Because the public expects a lot from you—especially with the dominance of the private media houses—you see this competition, so it has been a very good experience.
During a recent visit to Parliament, I noticed a number of individuals with smartphones actively reporting events in real time, many identifying as bloggers or social media correspondents. How do you perceive this emerging trend, and how does it compare with the work of accredited parliamentary journalists?
Yes, it’s a new trend. As Secretary of the Parliamentary Press Corps, I’ve had several colleagues raise concerns about it. They’ve come forward saying, “We need to do something.” The way some bloggers and citizen journalists conduct themselves is—quite frankly—improper.
As trained journalists, we carry ourselves professionally. I’ve been to journalism school. We’re taught ethics and there are boundaries we don’t cross; standards we uphold. But what we’re seeing from many of these so-called bloggers is largely unprofessional. I refer to them as such because their behavior often reflects poorly on the rest of us. What’s worse is that they’re frequently mistaken for members of the Parliamentary Press Corps, and we’ve had to be very clear: they are not. We’ve had situations where two Parliament members were engaged in a private conversation, and these individuals—without seeking permission—intruded by recording, photographing, and doing whatever they pleased.
I recall a particular incident where a private citizen, aligned with a political faction, showed up with his smartphone. There had just been a change in government, and he clearly had an agenda. He felt a particular MP was being too vocal in the media, and he came to the swearing-in solely to provoke him; not to ask questions, not to report—but to engage in open confrontation. That’s not journalism. We’re not taught to behave in that disrespectful, combative way; especially not in a professional setting like Parliament. I later overheard him at the coffee shop saying, “Yes, I planned this from home. I came here to engage the MP.” To me, that sort of premeditated disruption is not only unprofessional but dangerous. You can ask tough, constructive questions and still be civil. You don’t need to create a spectacle to do journalism. This kind of misconduct is now pushing Parliament to consider stricter protocols. It’s influencing policy decisions about accreditation and raising security concerns. Parliament is a public institution, yes, but it’s also a high-security zone. We’re in Ghana, surrounded by countries that have suffered terrorist attacks. We can’t afford to be lax. We’ve embraced the idea of an open Parliament, but openness doesn’t mean a free-for-all. Not everyone with a smartphone and internet access should be allowed unrestricted entry. There needs to be a clear distinction between accredited journalists who understand the rules and ethics of the profession, and individuals who simply show up and do as they please. That distinction matters.
There’s a view that the media can serve as a cathartic outlet for democratic expression. In your experience, does this idea resonate with the role journalists play in parliamentary reporting, especially during moments of tension or controversy?
Absolutely, that idea resonates strongly. Journalists here are playing their role with real passion and commitment. As I mentioned earlier, the public often places more trust in what journalists report than in what politicians say. Personally, as someone trained at the Ghana Institute of Journalism, I carry with me the values we were taught to strive for truth, accuracy, and integrity in our work.
In moments of tension or controversy, particularly within Parliament, the media becomes a crucial channel for democratic expression. Because we approach our reporting with professionalism and dedication, the public tends to see our accounts as more credible—sometimes even taking our reports as the “gospel truth” over the narratives offered by political actors. That trust places a great responsibility on us, and it’s one we take seriously.
Article 162 of the 1992 Constitution guarantees press freedom. From your perspective, are these protections meaningfully upheld in the context of day-to-day parliamentary reporting?
Yes, I believe the Constitution has provided journalists with some level of protection. Since the promulgation of the 1992 Constitution, there has been progress, but working here hasn’t always been easy. Over the years, we’ve seen gradual improvements. In the past, journalists had to be extremely cautious about what they published. Even a minor misstep could lead to being summoned before the Privileges Committee. Some Members of Parliament were not always receptive to media scrutiny or criticism. While there is no official government policy that targets journalists, individuals who are unhappy with our reporting often use civil suits as a form of intimidation. So even though the Constitution ensures some freedom, journalists still need to be careful. The state may not directly come after you, but individuals can exploit the court system, and the financial costs of such cases—fines and legal fees—can be significant. That is why I respect the effort many of my colleagues put into continuously improving themselves.
Journalists covering Parliament don’t just stop at a diploma. Many go on to further their education to keep up with the demands of the profession. In fact, several of my colleagues are now practicing lawyers. I personally know at least three who have been called to the bar, and others—some of whom I mentor—are currently enrolled in law school. Some have already completed their LLBs and are now pursuing professional certification. This drive for continuous growth is not only admirable but necessary. Competition is intense, and journalism is evolving quickly. These days, you don’t need your media house to push you to improve—you take that initiative on your own.
To stay relevant, you have to carve out a niche, specialize, and build a reputation in a particular area. For me, that area is sub-regional affairs. I have developed a strong interest in the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and its parliamentary work. I’ve taken time to study the supplementary acts, which are similar to Ghana’s standing orders, and I make an effort to engage with former MPs and experts to deepen my knowledge. When I write, I want to ensure my reporting is not only accurate but adds value. My interest in ECOWAS Parliament started with a case involving Ghanaian MPs. Two MPs were sent there, and according to the supplementary act, once elected, you serve until the term of that Parliament ends. You cannot simply be replaced. This provision was put in place largely in response to the coups occurring across the sub-region. It aims to promote stability and protect democratic continuity.
There have been situations that tested this rule. In Togo, for example, an opposition MP used the ECOWAS platform to criticize the ruling family’s extended grip on power. There were attempts to remove him, but the structure of the ECOWAS Parliament prevented that. Ghana faced a similar issue when an MP who was elected and had already started serving at ECOWAS was later replaced by another member. That decision sparked controversy. The current Speaker of Parliament has taken a position on this issue, but I respectfully disagree with that interpretation. Education in journalism is about carving out a niche for yourself. You choose an area of expertise and make it your own. As journalists in Parliament, we want to be recognized as authorities in certain fields whether it’s oil and gas, or the law. That’s how I’ve made my mark.
You touched on this earlier, but can you tell us about a time when you or your colleagues faced censorship, directly or indirectly, in your work?
In Ghana’s Parliament, yes, I’ve experienced that. Sometimes you want to cover an issue and you’re told, “No, you can’t go there.” I once reported on a situation where Ghana faced embarrassment at the community Parliament. The majority leader told me not to report it. I was even warned that if I went ahead, I’d be taken to the Privileges Committee. But I knew my facts were accurate. I had information from Abuja, so I approached the majority leader to clarify. He said, “No comment.” I cross-checked my sources, confirmed the details, and published the story anyway. I was ready to defend myself with the standing orders and the Hansard if necessary. That was over six years ago. I was never summoned.
If you know your job well, you can’t be easily intimidated. Unfortunately, some colleagues have gotten into trouble because they didn’t record sensitive conversations, leaving them without proof. I always make sure I have a record when needed, in line with the Ghana Journalists Association’s code of ethics.
While there have been improvements, we’re still sometimes told not to write certain things. My experience eventually led to Parliament’s leadership briefing us ahead of time so we’d have better access to information. Some journalists still avoid sensitive areas, but if you know your rights and the rules, you shouldn’t be afraid.
Do the state and private media experience regulatory pressures differently?
Yes. In state media, there’s more caution. If you submit a sensitive story, editors may water it down to avoid upsetting the government. There can be calls from higher authorities questioning why you want to “disgrace” the government.
In private media, there’s more freedom to publish, but there’s financial pressure. Criticizing the government can mean losing adverts—not only from the government but also from businesses that don’t want to upset those in power. Without adverts, it’s hard to pay salaries and bills. Some media houses are dying because of this. I’ve never worked for state media; I’ve always been independent. I now run my own platform, ECOWAS News Online, focusing on sub-regional issues. In Ghana, we enjoy freedoms that don’t exist in some neighboring countries, where certain topics are completely off-limits. I often advise colleagues not to depend solely on journalism for income. Having another source of revenue gives you the independence to resist pressure and keep reporting freely.
