Gold was supposed to be a gift.

Ask any man who’s ever held it, dreamed of it, killed for it. Ask the ancient Greek king who wished everything he touched would turn to gold—until his daughter ran to hug him and turned to metal in his arms. Ask the Spanish conquistadors who drowned in their own greed. Ask the forty-niners who died in California’s mountains chasing veins of yellow rock.

They all learned the same truth: gold gives nothing. It only takes.

Ghana lives this myth every day. We are a nation bewitched by gold, seduced by promises of prosperity while our rivers run poisoned, our farmlands lie barren, and our communities hollow out like abandoned mines. The very treasure that built our reputation as the Gold Coast now threatens to strip away everything that sustains us.

This is the tragedy of galamsey — illegal mining that turns our blessing into our curse. On August 6, 2025, eight men died fighting this curse when their helicopter crashed on the way to Obuasi. Like ancient warriors fallen in battle against a mythical beast, they perished confronting the monster that gold has become. Their deaths remind us that galamsey is not just an environmental crime — it’s a force that devours everything in its path, even those brave enough to stand against it.

King Midas begged the gods to lift his golden touch before it destroyed everything he loved. Ghana faces the same choice: will we break free from gold’s deadly spell, or will we, like Midas, discover too late that we’ve turned our own lifeblood to dust?

To understand how deep this curse runs, we must first understand what galamsey truly is.

Galamsey — What Is It?

The lure of the precious metal gold earned Ghana the name “The Gold Coast.” For centuries, gold drew traders, explorers, and fortune seekers from across the seas, shaping the history, economy, and identity of the land. Mining, the act of extracting minerals from the earth, has long been part of our story. It comes in many forms, but in Ghana, two dominate: large-scale mining, usually carried out by licensed companies with heavy machinery and government oversight, and small-scale mining, traditionally done by individuals or small groups, often with rudimentary tools.

Mining is one of Ghana’s most significant economic drivers, contributing billions of dollars to the national revenue each year. The sector is regulated by laws and agencies designed to ensure sustainable practices, environmental protection, and fair taxation. But in recent decades, a dangerous mutation of small-scale mining has emerged — illegal, unregulated, and devastating in its impact. This is what we now call galamsey.

The Cost to Cocoa

Ghana’s cocoa farms — once lush stretches of green feeding both the national economy and millions of households — have been falling silent under the assault of galamsey. Lands once fertile for cocoa are stripped bare, the soil poisoned by mercury and cyanide used to process gold. Farmers have abandoned orchards that had stood for generations, unable to cultivate the tainted earth. The result is not only a loss of livelihood for thousands but a direct hit to one of Ghana’s leading exports. Every acre lost to galamsey weakens our place on the world cocoa market and erodes the heritage that cocoa farming represents.

The Players and the Kingpins

Galamsey is not an accident of desperation. It is a lucrative underworld, fed by powerful players who operate beyond the reach of law — and sometimes with its silent consent. Behind the men with shovels and washing pans are financiers, political patrons, and shadowy middlemen who control machinery, secure illegal concessions, and trade the gold across borders. Some are local power brokers; others have deep foreign ties. Together, they form a network that thrives on weak enforcement, bribery, and the exploitation of rural poverty. To dismantle galamsey is to confront these entrenched interests head-on — a battle that demands courage, strategy, and an unyielding will.

The Crush

On the morning of Wednesday August 6, 2025, eight men set out to Obuasi from Accra on board a Z-9 helicopter to tackle the problem. The Responsible Cooperative Mining and Skills Development Programme (rCOMSDEP) is an initiative to promote sustainable, cooperative small-scale mining practices and curb illegal galamsey.

They never reached their destination. And they never returned. Eight lives, heavy with duty and promise, were lost on the mountainside at Adansi Akruofuom. And with them came a bitter truth: galamsey is more than an environmental crime. It is a force that reaches into every corner of our national life.

Ecocide! Galamsey is:

A threat to National Security — it took the Defence Minister, Edward Kofi Omane Boamah.

A threat to Environmental Protection — it took the Minister for Environment, Science, Technology and Innovation, Ibrahim Murtala Muhammed.

A blow to Disaster Management — it took the Deputy National Security Coordinator, Limuna Mohammed Muniru.

A loss in Political Leadership — it took the Vice-Chairman of the National Democratic Congress, Samuel Sarpong.

A setback for Public Service — it took Samuel Aboagye, Deputy Director-General of NADMO and former parliamentary candidate.

An assault on Military Service — it took Squadron Leader Peter Baafemi Anala.

An attack on Aviation Service — it took Flying Officer Manaen Twum Ampadu.

A strike at Protective Duty — it took Sergeant Ernest Addo, a steadfast pillar of Ghana’s defence.

The Debt We Owe

Ghana owes these gallant men and their immediate families a huge debt! Their deaths must stir us to finally end galamsey. If it doesn’t, I wonder what else will. And if we cannot crush galamsey in their honour, I wonder what greater tribute we could ever give them. They will be watching from wherever they are, and posterity will be the judge.

We must not let their sacrifice dissolve into speeches and anniversaries. The government must wield its laws without fear or favour, chiefs must reclaim the authority to protect their lands, and citizens must reject the lure of quick gold that robs their children of a future. The rivers can run clear again, the forests can breathe again — but only if we decide, here and now, that enough is enough.