In a move that has sent shockwaves through the corridors of power in Accra and Whitehall alike, Ghana's Parliament has given preliminary approval to a bill that would make it a crime to be anything other than aggressively heterosexual. The bill, which has been described by activists as 'the most draconian anti-LGBTQ+ legislation in Africa', threatens to upend the carefully constructed fiction of Commonwealth unity.
Let us pause to appreciate the sheer audacity of a nation that chooses to legislate against love while its economy teeters on the brink of collapse. One can almost hear the ghost of Kwame Nkrumah weeping into his palm wine. The Foreign Office, in a statement that was notably free of the usual diplomatic fudge, warned that 'Commonwealth values are non-negotiable' and hinted at consequences. Translation: 'We will stop pretending you are a functioning democracy if you go through with this.'
The bill, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the skull, criminalises not only homosexual acts but also 'promotion' of LGBTQ+ rights. One suspects that even holding hands with your spouse might soon be considered a 'promotion' of something unspeakable. The Ghanaian MPs behind this travesty have framed it as a defence of 'Ghanaian culture', conveniently forgetting that culture is not a static museum exhibit but a living, breathing entity that evolves. Unless, of course, you are talking about corruption. That remains a proud, unchanging tradition.
Meanwhile, the British government, ever the champion of human rights when it suits them, has pledged to 'engage constructively'. This is diplomatic code for: 'We will express mild concern while continuing to buy your cocoa and gold.' The hypocrisy is as thick as the gin I am currently consuming. One might ask: where was this moral outrage when Uganda passed its 'Kill the Gays' bill? Or when Brunei decided to stone homosexuals to death? The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind, along with the shredded remains of numerous human rights promises.
Let us not forget that the Commonwealth itself is a relic of Empire, a club where former colonies pretend to be equals with their ex-masters. The 'Commonwealth values' the Foreign Office speaks of are, in fact, a set of aspirational goals that are honoured more in the breach than the observance. But this is convenient for a government that wants to appear virtuous without actually doing anything. Expect a strongly worded letter, a sternly furrowed brow, and then a quiet return to business as usual.
I propose a new diplomatic approach: every time a Commonwealth nation passes a discriminatory law, the UK should respond by imposing a tax on their export of absurdity. Perhaps a surcharge on all submissions to the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting that contain the phrase 'protecting our culture'. Or a mandatory screening of 'Priscilla, Queen of the Desert' for every MP who votes for such legislation. It could not be less effective than the current strategy.
In the end, this is a story about power and prejudice, about the cynical exploitation of fear for political gain. The Ghanaian government knows that LGBTQ+ rights are a wedge issue, a way to distract from their own failings. And the British government knows that a strong stance might cost them trade deals. So they will bluster and threaten, and then move on. The LGBTQ+ community in Ghana will be left to face the consequences, armed only with their courage and the knowledge that the Commonwealth's values are, apparently, optional.
As I drain my glass and contemplate the state of the world, I am reminded of a quote from the great British satirist Peter Cook: 'I have always been a tremendous admirer of the foreign policy of this country. It is carried out with such vigour and enthusiasm, such single-minded dedication to the cause of failure.' Indeed. The cause of failure, in this case, is the failure of empathy, of courage, and of genuine commitment to human rights. And that, dear readers, is the true crime.
