Reflections by S.M.A: Doing the right thing, even when no one is watching

There is a quiet power in responsibility. It does not announce itself with fanfare, nor does it always attract applause. Yet it shapes societies more enduringly than slogans or policies. Every functioning community rests on a simple, often forgotten truth: what we do—and what we fail to do—matters.

Being a responsible citizen is not a title reserved for presidents, judges or CEOs. It is a daily choice, available to the cleaner who arrives early, the driver who obeys traffic rules, the trader who uses a fair measure, and the official who refuses to cut corners.

In Ghana, we often speak of leadership as though it exists only at the top. But leadership, in its most practical form, is behaviour. It is how we treat public property, how we speak to one another, how we perform our duties when supervision is absent.

The small things reveal us: The clerk who delays a file because “it’s not my problem”; the contractor who substitutes inferior materials; the passenger who litters from a moving vehicle; the public officer who demands a “small something” to do what is already his job. These actions may seem minor in isolation, but collectively they corrode trust and normalise mediocrity.

Conversely, responsibility is contagious. When one person insists on doing the right thing, others notice. Standards quietly rise. Expectations shift. A security guard who refuses a bribe sends a message. A journalist who verifies facts before publishing sets a tone. A teacher who prepares lessons diligently shapes futures beyond the classroom.

Too often, we excuse irresponsibility by pointing to others. Why should I be honest when others are not? Why should I care when the system is broken? These questions are understandable, but dangerous. They allow us to outsource our conscience.

Citizenship is not a transaction where we give only when conditions are perfect. It is a commitment to contribute, even when the environment is flawed. Indeed, it is precisely in imperfect systems that responsible behaviour matters most.

Consider the ripple effect of a single act. A driver who respects pedestrian crossings may prevent an accident—and inspire others to slow down. A supervisor who treats subordinates with dignity fosters loyalty and productivity. A neighbour who keeps his surroundings clean improves public health.

We underestimate the influence we wield simply by being consistent. Children learn more from observation than instruction. When they see adults cutting corners, they internalise it as normal. When they witness integrity, they absorb that too.

Responsibility also means speaking up.

Silence in the face of wrongdoing is itself an action—one that often empowers the wrongdoer. Being responsible does not require aggression, but it does demand courage: the courage to question, to report, to refuse participation in what is clearly wrong.

In our workplaces, professionalism should not depend on supervision. In our communities, order should not rely solely on enforcement. And in our national life, patriotism should not be reduced to slogans or ceremonial flag-waving.

True love for country is practical. It shows in how we queue, how we drive, how we handle public resources, and how we treat strangers. It shows in punctuality, honesty and a willingness to accept accountability.

None of us is too small to matter. None of us is too insignificant to influence outcomes. The nation we desire is being shaped daily by ordinary choices made by ordinary people.

History rarely remembers those who waited for perfect conditions before doing the right thing. It remembers those who acted responsibly, quietly and consistently, even when it was inconvenient.

In the end, citizenship is not about status. It is about standards. And the most enduring legacy we leave is not what we say about Ghana, but how we live in it.

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