Features
When the camera becomes a target
We are often the first to arrive and the last to leave. While crowds scatter, cameramen and photographers move closer. In moments of crisis, fires, elections, protests, demolitions and disasters, cameramen stand at the centre of these events, documenting reality as it unfolds.
Yet in Ghana and many parts of the world, cameramen and photographers remain among the most vulnerable professionals in journalism. Despite their central and crucial role in news production, they are frequently assaulted, poorly protected and largely under-recognised within the media industry.
In today’s media environment, visuals define impact. Images and video clips have ignited national conversations, expose wrongdoing and shape public opinion within seconds. In all the media landscape, majority of storytelling value is visual, produced by some cameramen and photographers working in high-pressure and often volatile environments.
This visibility, however, comes at a cost. Cameramen are usually positioned closest to unfolding events, making them the most exposed when tensions rise.
A recent example is the assault on Samuel Addo, a journalist with Class Media Group, who was attacked by personnel of the Ghana National Fire Service while filming an altercation between firefighters and traders at the Kasoa New Market. He was injured while performing a routine professional duty recording events of public interest.
Incidents such as this have become increasingly prevalent. Records by the Media Foundation for West Africa, Ghana Journalists Association (GJA) and other media monitoring bodies show that journalists are regularly assaulted while on duty, with cameramen often the primary victims. These attacks occur during political rallies, security operations, demolitions, protests and disaster coverage.
In many cases, cameras are damaged or confiscated, journalists are physically assaulted or detained, and intimidation follows.
Yet a significant number of reported cases are never fully investigated or prosecuted. This lack of accountability has contributed to a pattern where attacks against visual journalists are treated as routine rather than exceptional.
The situation in Ghana reflects a broader global trend. Across the world, cameramen and photographers have been injured or killed while covering wars, elections, civil unrest and human rights violations.
In 2016, I was assaulted by military personnel while covering an altercation between civilians and the military at Aboabo, a suburb of Tamale. Like many similar cases, the incident was never pursued. It was treated as routine and eventually forgotten.
That experience reflects a wider reality faced by many cameramen: attacks are frequent, investigations are rare and consequences minimal.
From conflict zones in Gaza, Syria, Ukraine and Iraq, to violent regions in Mexico and Haiti, visual journalists are often targeted because their work provides evidence. Cameras capture what words alone cannot, making those who operate them particularly vulnerable.
Globally, hundreds of journalists have lost their lives over the decades while on assignment; many of them visual reporters.
Despite the risks involved, cameramen and photographers are often among the lowest-paid employees in media organisations. Risk allowances are uncommon, insurance coverage is inconsistent and access to trauma support is limited.
Recognition within the profession also remains uneven, at major industry events such as the Ghana Journalists Association Awards, most honours are reserved for reporters, while cameramen whose visuals underpin many award-winning stories are rarely acknowledged beyond a single photojournalism category.
As long as cameramen and photographers continue to work without adequate protection, training, insurance and institutional backing, the risks will remain. Without meaningful accountability, assaults on visual journalists are likely to continue.
Cameramen and photographers are not peripheral to journalism. They are central to it. Their work informs the public, preserves records of national events and supports democratic accountability.
Ensuring their safety is not only a professional obligation; it is essential to protecting the integrity of journalism itself.
Beyond physical attacks, cameramen and news photographers operate within weak legal and institutional protection frameworks. While Ghana’s Constitution guarantees press freedom, enforcement mechanisms specific to journalist safety remain limited.
Assaults against visual journalists are often treated as isolated disturbances rather than attacks on press freedom, reducing their seriousness in the eyes of investigators and prosecutors.
Another critical gap lies in operational preparedness. Cameramen are frequently deployed to high-risk assignments without basic safety briefings, protective gear or clear protocols. In many newsrooms, decisions are driven by urgency and competition, leaving little room for structured risk assessment before deployment to volatile scenes.
Responsibility also lies with media organisations themselves, where many cameramen operate without adequate insurance, written safety policies or post-incident support. When assaults occur, affected journalists are often left to pursue justice on their own, reinforcing the perception that injury is simply ‘part of the job.’
Security agencies remain a key part of the problem. Cameramen are routinely mistaken for agitators, accused of provocation, or ordered to stop filming without lawful justification. The absence of consistent training for security personnel on media rights and engagement protocols continues to fuel confrontations that escalate unnecessarily.
Economic vulnerability further compounds the risk. Some cameramen invest heavily in personal equipment like cameras, lenses, batteries and protective gear often purchased on credit. When equipment is damaged or seized during assignments, compensation is rare, pushing many visual journalists into long-term financial strain.
Digital threats have also emerged as a growing concern. Visual journalists increasingly face online harassment, threats after publishing sensitive images or videos. These digital attacks often translate into physical risk, yet remain largely unaddressed by employers or law enforcement agencies.
The cumulative effect of physical danger, low pay, poor recognition and weak protection has consequences for journalism itself. Talented cameramen leave the profession, younger practitioners become risk-averse, and news coverage grows thinner. When visual journalists are silenced or discouraged, the public loses access to independent, credible documentation of events.
Protecting cameramen and photographers is, therefore, not a favour. It is a democratic necessity. Without safe conditions for visual reporting, accountability weakens, misinformation thrives and public trust erodes. Journalism cannot function fully if those who capture its most powerful evidence remain exposed and expendable.
By Geoffrey Buta
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Walk into any supermarket in Accra, Kumasi, or Tamale today, and you will see the modern Ghanaian diet packaged as ‘progress.’ You will see breakfast cereals with cartoon mascots, fruit drinks that are mostly sugar and colour, and snacks promising energy and happiness in bright fonts.
Even products loaded with salt and unhealthy fats often wear a health halo labeled as fortified or natural, while the real nutritional risk is hidden in tiny print on the back. This is not just a consumer inconvenience; it is a public health blind spot. Ghana is living through a silent surge of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) like hypertension, diabetes, and stroke.
These conditions quietly drain household income and steal productive years. According to the Ghana Health Service (GHS) and World Health Organisation (WHO) estimates, NCDs are now responsible for nearly 45 per cent of all deaths in Ghana.
We cannot build a healthy nation on a food environment designed to confuse people at the point of purchase. Ghana must mandate simple front-of-pack warning labels (FOPWL) on high-sugar, high-salt, and high-fat packaged foods because consumers deserve truth at a glance, and industry must be pushed to reformulate.
Why Back-of-Pack Labels Are Not Enough
In theory, consumers can read nutrition panels. In reality, most Ghanaians shop under pressure, limited time, rising prices, and children tugging at their sleeves. The back label is a relic that requires a high cognitive load to interpret—essentially, the seller knows what is inside, but the buyer cannot easily tell.
This ‘information asymmetry’ is not fair. It is not consumer choice when the information needed to choose well is deliberately difficult to find.
Simple warning labels like the black octagons used in the Chilean Model act as a ‘stop-and-think’ nudge. They do not ban products but they simply tell the truth so people can decide.
Reshaping Our Food Environment
A generation ago, Ghana’s meals were mostly home-prepared, like kenkey and banku with soups and stews. Today, ultra-processed foods have become the norm, especially in urban areas. Children are growing up with sugary drinks and salty snacks as everyday items, not occasional treats.
If Ghana is serious about prevention, we must act where decisions are made—thus, the shelf. Warning labels protect parents from sugar traps and pressure the market to improve. When warning labels are mandatory, manufacturers start to compete to make healthier recipes to avoid the stigma of the label.
Addressing the Pushback
Industry will argue that labels create fear or that education alone is enough. However, health education is slow; labels work immediately. While the informal street food sector is a challenge, regulating pre-packaged goods is the practical starting point because the supply chain is traceable. We cannot wait until the whole system is perfect; we must start where action is feasible.
A 2026 Implementation Roadmap for Ghana
To move from talk to action, Ghana needs this 5-step plan:
- Issue mandatory regulation: The Ministry of Health, Food and Drug Authority (FDA), and Ghana Standards Authority (GSA) must define the label format and nutrient thresholds for all pre-packaged foods.
- Simple, bold symbols: Use plain language and clear symbols, such as “HIGH IN SUGAR,” designed for busy families, not experts.
- Transparent thresholds: Adopt technically defensible standards adapted to the Ghanaian diet.
- Transition and enforce: Provide a 12–18 month period for manufacturers to reformulate, followed by firm enforcement at ports and retail centers.
- National literacy campaign: The Ghana Health Service must pair labels with public messages explaining why high salt or sugar increases disease risk.
Conclusion: Truth Is Not a Luxury
Prevention is cheaper than treatment. A warning label costs little compared to the price of dialysis, stroke rehabilitation, or lifelong diabetes complications. A black octagon on a box of biscuits is more than a label; it is a shield for the health of all Ghanaians. It is time to put the truth where we can see it, right on the front.
By Abigail Amoah Sarfo
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Natives of the Kenkey Kingdom were mad with joy. They were still recovering from the hangover of the kingdom’s loss of the African Cup when their spirits were rekindled. Their great warrior, Zoom Zoom, stormed Melbourne and made sure that every Australian refused food. And that was after he had drawn contour lines on the face of their idol, Jeff Fenech.
Not only did the terrible warrior transform Old Boy Jeff’s face into a contour map useful for geography lessons, but he also accomplished the feat of retaining the much-envied super-kenkeyweight title against all odds. The warrior had not been eating hot kenkey for nothing.
The Fight Against Fenech
When Jeff Fenech bit the dust in the eighth round, I was tempted to consider if Adanko Deka could not have faced him in any twelve-rounder, title or non-title bout. Adanko has improved tremendously, and soon he would be facing Pernell Whitaker.
Sincerely, I was pessimistic about Azumah’s man, who the last time took him through twelve grueling rounds of rough boxing. I expressed my fears to my colleague Christian Abbew, alias Gbonyo, who surprisingly had total confidence that the Australian brawler would fall, predictably in Round Five.
Gbonyo gave reasons for his contention, all of which I counteracted using the age factor. Fact is, I didn’t know that contrary to the laws of nature, Azumah was all the time growing younger.
When Fenech fell briefly in round one, I asked my brother whether it was the same Fenech that fought Azumah in Las Vegas. Sure, it was the same Fenech, all out to beat Azumah before his countrymen.
But the African Professor had no intention of making the Australian a hero. As he spun round the desperate Aussie, dancing and stinging out his jabs, it was not too long before I realized that the end was near.
The Eighth Round Showdown
Two minutes into the eighth round, the African ring-master proved to the whole world that he was a true son of Bukom. He himself was cornered, but like the tough nut he is, he managed to break free before overwhelming the panting Australian with several blows that made him crash headlong.
Moments after, the referee, expressing fatherly sympathy, stopped the fight to prevent an obituary. After the ordeal, Fenech’s fairly handsome face was full of newly constructed hills, valleys, ox-bow lakes—whatever. I noticed that his nose was very tired and had a miniature volcano sitting restlessly on it. Obviously, Jeff’s wife will have to nurse that nose back to its normal shape—but I’d advise her not to use iodine, otherwise her dear husband will wail like a banshee.
Reflections on Boxing
Because Mohammed Ali was the kind of boxer kids liked, many school-going kids often entertained the wish of becoming like him. I remember one day when I told my father I wanted to become a boxer, and he advised me to first complete my education to the highest level. Then, if I decided to become a boxer and was knocked out a couple of times, I’d fall back on my degrees and make a living.
Boxing used to be interesting when bouts were fought more with the mouth and tongue than with gloves. You had to brag well, psychologically belittling your opponent before beating him up physically. Mohammed Ali became a very successful pugilist because he also managed to become a poet. He often blew his horn across America, calling himself the “pretty boxer” and opponents like Joe Frazier “the gorilla.”
Ali made a living fighting hard fists like Joe Frazier, Ken Norton, Jerry Quarry, George Foreman, Leon Spinks, and Trevor Berbick. Twice he came back from retirement to fight just for money. It was Larry Holmes who finally pensioned him, and since then the great Ali has never been himself.
The Path Ahead for Azumah
When Azumah nailed Jeff Fenech on the cross and barked almost immediately that he was after the head of Pernell Whitaker, I was happy but concerned. I would have been happier if he had announced his resignation there and then—he would have been more of a hero. Beating Fenech in Australia is more newsworthy than facing Whitaker in the States.
With Whitaker, it might be a little difficult. The “Sweet Pea” is agile, has a crooked body like a snake with diarrhea, and stands awkwardly as a southpaw. He is known for having the fastest pair of fists and the rare ability to dodge punches no matter how close they may be.
Much as I do not doubt that Azumah can take his title, I also don’t want him to retire beaten. I want him to retire as a hero and live a fuller, healthy life.
As Azumah himself said after dishing Fenech, he is now a professor and has something to show for it. Like a true professor, I think it is time he resigned and took up training young talents who could draw inspiration from him and become like him in the future.
Closing Thoughts
I must say that although ageing boxers like Larry Holmes and George Foreman are making a name for themselves, boxing is not like the Civil Service, where you can even change your age and retire at 74. Zoom Zoom has delighted the hearts of the natives, and Sikaman will forever hold him in high esteem—but only when he retires as a hero.
This article was first published on Saturday, March 7, 1992.
