Once upon a time in the Republic of Uncommon Sense, two adults closed a door — and the entire nation climbed the roof to inspect the ceiling fan.

Let us begin calmly.

The act itself began with Creation.

It predates colonial borders.

It survived coups and constitutions.

It endured black-and-white television and dial-up internet.

It is not new.

What is new… is the Wi-Fi.

Within hours, Ghana transformed into a moral emergency ward.

Cultural custodians were revived from retirement.

WhatsApp lawyers were sworn in without ceremony.

Gender analysts warmed up their keyboards.

Economists blamed the exchange rate.

And almost everybody — almost everybody — had “seen the evidence.”

Strictly for educational purposes.

The Court of Facebook

By sunrise, the digital courtroom had assembled.

Honourable Justice Screenshot presiding.

Inspector Forward-Forward prosecuting.

Professor National Shame delivering the keynote lecture on “The Collapse of Civilization.”

Sentences were issued instantly.

Reputations were buried digitally.

Appeals were not entertained.

And yet — the video kept circulating.

Because here lies the contradiction:

If it is shameful, why are we searching?

If it is immoral, why is it trending?

If sharing is illegal, why is it forwarded “many times”?

There is an old proverb rendered into English:

“The one who claims he has never tasted the soup is often licking the ladle behind the kitchen.”

In this Republic, outrage is public. Curiosity is private.

We condemn loudly.

We download quietly.

The Selective Outrage Department

Observe carefully.

The foreign gentleman has slowly become a background character.

The women, however, have become headline, subheading, and footnotes.

In the Republic of Uncommon Sense, when a man climbs a tree, he is called adventurous. When a woman climbs the same tree, she is declared missing.

If roles were reversed, would the outrage be identical?

Would the volume be the same?

Or would we suddenly discover the language of “freedom” and “choice”?

We are consistent — consistently inconsistent.

Hard Times and Easy Judgments

Now let us remove the humour for one honest minute.

Hard times make soft decisions.

When unemployment knocks loudly, dignity negotiates quietly.

When opportunity is scarce, risk becomes affordable.

When hope delays, desperation improvises.

Some see moral decline.

Others see economic survival.

Some see disgrace.

Others see systemic failure.

It is easier to condemn individuals than to confront conditions.

It is easier to forward a video than to forward opportunity.

The Fire and the Charcoal

There is another proverb worth remembering:

“If you truly hate the fire, why are you carrying the charcoal?”

We say we are disgusted — yet we keep it trending.

We say we are protecting culture — yet we amplify what we claim to reject.

In the old village square, gossip faded at sunset.

In the digital village, gossip does not fade.

It is archived.

Screen-recorded.

Reposted.

Preserved.

One moment can now become permanent punishment.

And here is the uncomfortable truth:

You can disagree with someone’s choices —

and still respect their right to privacy.

Consent to intimacy is not consent to global distribution.

The law understands this.

Social media is still debating it.

The Mirror Moment

Perhaps this story is not about the individuals at all.

Perhaps it is about us.

What kind of society do we become when curiosity outruns compassion?

What kind of morality do we defend when we spread what we claim to condemn?

In the Republic of Uncommon Sense, we do not only share videos.

We also share judgment — wholesale, retail, and on installment plan.

The next time the village bell rings on your phone, pause.

Before you press forward, ask yourself:

Are you protecting dignity?

Or entertaining curiosity?

Are you defending values?

Or feeding the algorithm?

Now I hand the microphone to you, citizens of the Republic:

Let’s engage — responsibly.

• Is participation the issue — or distribution?

• Is this moral decline — or economic desperation?

• Does outrage solve anything — or just amplify harm?

• And would your reaction change if it were someone you personally know?

Drop your thoughts below.

Debate boldly.

Forward wisely.

The Honourable Justice Screenshot is still watching.