Political discourse, particularly in a democracy, must never lose sight of the difference between criticising ideas and assassinating character. The health of our public conversations depends not merely on how loudly we speak, but on how responsibly we choose our words. When commentary descends from reasoned argument into personal attacks, society loses something precious: civility, fairness and intellectual honesty.
It is against this background that the recent Facebook post by Justice A. Newton-Offei describing Shamima Ishmael Muslim as “Boko Haram” must be condemned in the strongest but most respectful terms.
The statement was not merely inappropriate. It was deeply unfair, unnecessary and loaded with dangerous connotations that should never casually be attached to any individual, particularly a Ghanaian woman whose life story stands in complete opposition to everything the terrorist group represents.
Words matter.
“Boko Haram” is not a harmless political insult. It is the name of one of the deadliest extremist groups in modern African history. It is a group associated with terror, bloodshed, the destruction of communities and, significantly, opposition to formal education, especially the education of women. The phrase itself is widely interpreted to mean “Western education is forbidden” or “book is forbidden.”
To attach such a label to Shamima Muslim is therefore not simply to criticise her politics; it is to attempt to reduce her identity, her faith and her public image into a stereotype rooted in fear and ignorance. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Contrary to the impression the post sought to create, Shamima Muslim represents the very antithesis of the ideology of Boko Haram. Her entire educational and professional journey is evidence of this.
She received quality education at one of Ghana’s respected basic schools, Morning Star School. She proceeded to one of the nation’s highly regarded senior high schools, Holy Child School. She attended one of Ghana’s leading universities before pursuing a master’s degree in the United Kingdom. Upon returning home, she further pursued another master’s degree at Ghana Institute of Journalism.
This is not the story of a woman opposed to education.
It is the story of a Muslim woman who embraced education at the highest levels and excelled through it.
Indeed, Shamima Muslim’s life and achievements help dismantle the very stereotypes that extremist groups like Boko Haram have helped create in the minds of people such as Newton Offei. Through her career, public service and intellectual contributions, she demonstrates that Islam does not forbid women from seeking knowledge, participating in governance or engaging in legitimate (“halal”) public ventures alongside their male counterparts.
To weaponise her Muslim identity against her in political debate is, therefore, not only intellectually lazy but socially dangerous. It perpetuates harmful misconceptions about Muslim women, misconceptions that many educated and enlightened societies across the world are working hard to erase.
None of this means Shamima Muslim should be immune from criticism, far from it.
The moment she stepped into mainstream politics and public governance, she accepted the unwritten contract that comes with public life: the freedom to criticise and to be criticised. No public official is omniscient. No politician is beyond reproach. Where she errs, those who disagree with her have every democratic right to challenge her decisions, her arguments and her conduct.
But there is a difference, a very big difference, between critique and contempt.
There is a difference between interrogating policy and insulting personality. There is a difference between democratic disagreement and reckless name-calling.
A society that normalises attaching citizens to terrorist groups merely because of political disagreement risks poisoning its own democratic culture. Today it may be Shamima Muslim. Tomorrow it could be someone else. Eventually, meaningful debate disappears and all that remains is noise, bitterness and division.
What makes the comment even more disappointing is the fact that it came from a man who should know better. Public commentators wield influence. Their words shape perceptions. They set the tone for public discourse. When such individuals resort to inflammatory labels instead of reasoned argument, they legitimise a dangerous culture of intolerance and intellectual indiscipline.
Ghana deserves better. Our politics can be passionate without being poisonous. We can disagree fiercely without stripping one another of dignity. We can challenge public officials rigorously without resorting to labels associated with terrorism, extremism and hatred.
The true strength of political commentary lies not in how cruelly one can insult another person, but in how convincingly one can dismantle an argument with facts, logic and decorum. That is the standard responsible democratic discourse must aspire to.
