Ghana is in mourning. Eight of her sons have perished in the line of duty—a loss that should have united the nation in collective grief, solemn reflection, and respectful remembrance. Instead, what followed was an unsettling flood of images and videos that turned tragedy into a public spectacle.
Rather than being allowed the dignity of a quiet farewell, the deceased were exposed to the harsh gaze of the public. Graphic images of their burnt remains were shared widely, not just by media outlets, but also by ordinary citizens wielding smartphones. And as if the still images were not enough, live videos emerged showing the bodies being transported in cocoa sacks—an act that felt less like mourning and more like desecration.
This is what happens when viewer discretion is abused, when the line between necessary reporting and sensationalism is crossed, and when our collective conscience fails.
In journalism, there is a sacred balance to be struck between informing the public and preserving the dignity of the subjects involved—especially the dead. Unfortunately, that balance was ignored. Viewer discretion warnings, meant to protect the public and uphold ethical standards, have become mere footnotes to content that no one needed to see in the first place.
What purpose did those disturbing visuals serve? Were they vital to public understanding? Did they honour the dead or ease the pain of grieving families? Or did they simply satisfy a growing appetite for shock and spectacle?
The truth is, we have lost something vital: our sense of restraint.
Newsrooms must take responsibility, yes—but so must citizens. In the age of smartphones, everyone has become a broadcaster. But just because we can film, doesn’t mean we should. Just because we can post, doesn’t mean we are helping. In the rush to capture “the moment,” we often forget that these moments involve real human lives, real loss, and real pain.
When a grieving family opens their phone only to find their loved one’s final moments displayed in the most graphic form, we must ask ourselves: What have we become?
Respect for the dead is not just a cultural norm—it is a moral obligation. It transcends religion, tribe, or profession. The manner in which we treat our dead says everything about who we are as a society. If we cannot afford dignity to those who made the ultimate sacrifice, what does that say about how we value life itself?
The cost of indecent coverage is high. It dehumanizes the dead, retraumatizes the living, and slowly chips away at our shared values. We must do better—not just for those we’ve lost, but for the kind of society we hope to become.
Let this be a turning point. Let this be the last time a tragedy is met with insensitivity disguised as news. The dead deserve dignity. The living deserve compassion. And the truth, when told, must always be wrapped in empathy.
By: Rev. Emmanuel Dolphyne
