I’m not a lawyer, but I have some basic understanding of how these things work. So I should be pardoned if, in the course of expressing this opinion, I commit any legal blunder. The recent ruling by the Accra High Court, presided over by Justice John Eugene Nyadu Nyante, that the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) lacks independent prosecutorial authority has triggered intense public reaction.

Much of that reaction, particularly from civil society actors and some members of the academic community, has been framed in rather dramatic terms as though the decision represents a direct assault on Ghana’s anti-corruption architecture.

That framing, in my view, is deeply problematic. As a media and strategic communication consultant, I am acutely aware of how framing and agenda-setting can shape public perception. As such, my professional training does not permit me to remain silent in the face of deliberate attempts to distort narratives or construct realities that do not exist.

At its core, the ruling is a legal determination grounded in the interpretation of the 1992 Constitution of Ghana and the OSP Act. The judge essentially asked a narrow but fundamental question: whether the OSP can initiate prosecutions independently or must operate under the authority of the Attorney-General. His conclusion, whether one agrees with it or not, was that prosecutorial power, constitutionally, resides with the Attorney-General, and therefore the OSP cannot act autonomously in that regard.

In my candid opinion, that was not an ideological position. It was a legal one. If there are flaws in that reasoning, the appropriate response should equally be legal. Challenge the ruling, interrogate the interpretation, and seek clarity from the Supreme Court. What it is not, however, is an existential attack on the fight against corruption.

Unfortunately, that is precisely how it is being portrayed by a cross-section of the public. There seems to be a growing tendency to conflate institutional scrutiny with institutional sabotage. Any attempt to interrogate the legal foundations, operational efficiency, or strategic direction of the OSP is quickly recast as hostility towards anti-corruption efforts. This is not just intellectually dishonest. It is also counterproductive. It shuts down critical engagement and replaces it with moral posturing.

But let us assume, for the sake of argument, that this framing is valid and that questioning the OSP’s prosecutorial authority is tantamount to undermining the fight against corruption. If that is the standard being set, then the OSP must necessarily be judged by its outcomes. And this is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable.

The OSP was established in 2018 with a clear mandate to investigate and prosecute corruption and corruption-related offences. Its very name foregrounds prosecution as a central function. Yet, nearly a decade into its existence, the record of successful prosecutions remains, at best, modest, and you agree with me that this is not a controversial claim but an empirical one.

Meanwhile, the Attorney-General’s Department, operating within the same legal and political environment, has secured more visible prosecutorial outcomes in corruption-related cases. That comparison raises legitimate questions about institutional design, capacity, and effectiveness, and all of these questions deserve serious attention rather than rhetorical deflection.

To be clear, the OSP’s emphasis on corruption prevention is not without merit. Preventive strategies are an essential component of any comprehensive anti-corruption framework. However, prevention is inherently difficult to quantify, and in Ghana’s context, where public demand for accountability is high, the expectation was that the OSP would serve as an aggressive prosecutorial force. On that front, the results have not matched the expectations.

This is precisely why legal clarity on the OSP’s mandate is not a distraction but a necessity. If there is indeed a constitutional tension between the OSP Act and Article 88, resolving it is fundamental to the credibility and effectiveness of the institution.

An anti-corruption body operating under legal ambiguity is structurally handicapped from the outset. So rather than resorting to grand narratives about attacks on anti-corruption, this moment should be used constructively.

First, there is a need to definitively settle the legal question, preferably at the Supreme Court, on whether the OSP can prosecute independently or must do so through the Attorney-General. Second, policymakers must be willing to revisit and, if necessary, amend the legal framework governing the OSP to eliminate ambiguities. Third, there must be a more deliberate focus on leadership and performance accountability within the office.

Building an institution is not, in itself, evidence of progress. What matters is what that institution delivers. If civil society organisations and academics are unwilling to subject the OSP to the same level of scrutiny they apply to other public institutions, then their commitment to the anti-corruption cause risks appearing selective. Passion without performance does little to change outcomes.

Ultimately, the fight against corruption in Ghana will not be won through symbolism or sentiment. It will be won through clear laws, competent institutions, and measurable results. Anything less is simply noise.

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The author, Dr Noel Nutsugah, is a Senior Lecturer at the University of Media, Arts and Communication (UniMAC).