Aluta Continua! The elections are long over, yet the campaign drums continue to beat. The posters may be fading, but the divisions remain fresh. The fires of partisan loyalty are still being stoked, long after the ballots have been counted.
We often remind ourselves that “children are the future.” We say it with pride, with hope. And yet, when we look closely at the tone of our political discourse; on our airwaves, in our homes, and across social media. We are compelled to ask a sobering question: where does that future truly lie? Is it one we are carefully building together, or one we are unconsciously surrendering to endless political contestation? Is it renewal we seek, or simply Aluta Continua; the struggle without end?
Increasingly, our national conversations seem less about the colours of our flag and more about the colours of our parties. Too often, the focus shifts from collective progress to electoral victory, from national interest to partisan gain. In such moments, one cannot help but wonder where this path leads us as a people.
It is worrying to watch promises rain down freely; promises tailored not to citizens, but to party faithful. In this climate, what becomes of the ordinary Ghanaian with no party card, no political godfather, no allegiance but to the nation itself? What becomes of the young person who simply wants a fair chance at life? And so the question persists: where does the future of this country, and of the next generation, truly rest? Do we remain silent as politics continues to divide and distract us from our shared needs? Aluta Continua?
As a nation, we are not short of conversations about our challenges. We speak openly of unemployment, of youth frustration, of poor roads, struggling hospitals, under-resourced schools, rising prices, taxes, and daily hardship. Ironically, those most affected; our youth, often appear the least invested in demanding lasting solutions. In one breath, we lament the system; in the next, we defend it. And so, Aluta Continua.
We urge our young people to study hard, to work hard, to prepare themselves to one day lead this nation. But what kind of leadership will emerge if the same youth allow themselves to be used as tools in political games that ultimately harm the very future they are meant to inherit? What becomes of tomorrow when today is spent trading principles for short-term gains?
Across social media, the evidence is plain to see. Young people tear into one another over national issues; not to find solutions, but to score political points. Instead of holding leadership accountable, many become its loudest defenders. Instead of demanding integrity, they settle for crumbs. Instead of protecting the future, they mortgage it.
And yet, these same young people wake up each day burdened by uncertainty; by the search for work, for opportunity, for survival. Still, they rise to defend political benefactors and so-called godfathers, even as the nation’s resources slip through our fingers and the gap between promise and reality widens. Aluta Continua.
“Arise Ghana Youth for your country!” This line from our patriotic song is more than ceremonial poetry; it is a call to conscience. A call for the youth to recognize their power, to guard their future fiercely, and to refuse the easy lure of political gimmicks designed to benefit a few at the expense of many.
Today, we see young men and women being groomed; sometimes openly sponsored, to inherit political structures steeped in corruption and self-interest. The danger is not ambition itself, but ambition devoid of principle. When legacy becomes about replacement rather than reform, the cycle continues unbroken.
Like Joseph Koomson in Ayi Kwei Armah’s The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, some aspiring leaders appear less interested in changing the system than in occupying its comfortable spaces. Their loud attacks on rivals are often not acts of conviction, but strategies for entry; keys to doors they hope will grant them access to the same spoils.
And so, we are left to wonder: what does the future truly hold for this country? How long will we pretend not to see what is plainly before us? When will we summon the courage, not to insult or destroy, but to firmly and lovingly call out what threatens our collective progress?
This is not an attack. It is an appeal. An appeal to memory, to responsibility, and to hope.
An appeal to place country above colour, future above faction, and conscience above convenience.
Because if we do not pause to ask these questions now, history may one day ask them of us, and our silence may be the answer.
Aluta Continua? Or a new beginning?
nnhanson2@yahoo.com
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