Dear Nyaaba,

Of the many issues that, to me, defy logic, I choose to write to you today about this phenomenon in which perfectly reasonable people, or so they appear, descend into a barbarity that defies reason.

I remember, not fondly albeit with some sense of achievement, those days in the early 1990s when Jack Bebli and his bunch of goons subjected us, then undergraduates, to very harsh treatment, some of us receiving tear-gas canisters on our limbs and ‘derrieres’. Our crime, daring to embark on demonstrations to communicate our views on national policies. On one such occasion, I was caught in the thick of affairs, with Ben Ephson, at the time BBC correspondent, who too, if I remember correctly, had a canister to his shin. I will intentionally leave out how some political operatives contrived to exaggerate our wounds and how same operatives purportedly began arrangements to “medvac’ us to a “Camden Hospital” in the United Kingdom. To embarrass the government of the day.

Nyaaba, from those days to date, I have continued to wonder how fellow Ghanaians could so take leave of their humanity and proceed to inflict such thoughtless barbarity on people who could easily be their children. In the past few days I have made further enquiry into this troubling matter, and voila, such behaviour is not a novelty, and the response that has historically been favoured when such actions are questioned, is “orders from above”.

“Orders from above.” It’s a phrase that echoes through interrogation rooms, protest lines, and border checkpoints. It is invoked as justification, deflection, and sometimes, as a quiet plea for absolution. But what lies behind these three words? Are they the refuge of unthinking enforcers, or a symptom of a deeper institutional pathology?

In security forces and military organizations, the notion of following orders is not just routine, it is foundational. Discipline, cohesion, and operational effectiveness all rely on a clear chain of command. But history has taught us that obedience does not confer immunity. The Nuremberg Trials, in the aftermath of World War II, enshrined a critical legal and moral principle: “just following orders” is not a valid defense for participating in unlawful acts. Principle IV of the Nuremberg Principles makes it clear, individual responsibility does not vanish in the face of authority, especially when a moral choice is possible.

Yet this defense endures. Whether it is riot police dispersing peaceful demonstrators, border agents enforcing dehumanizing policies, or prison guards engaging in abuse, the same refrain emerges: “I was ordered to do it.” It begs the question—are these individuals complicit, or coerced? Are they mindless executors, or cogs in an unforgiving machine?

The truth lies in a complicated middle ground.

On one hand, “orders from above” often function as a moral smokescreen. It allows individuals to outsource judgment, disavow responsibility, and transfer blame up the chain of command. But this moral distancing is dangerous. It creates a system where accountability evaporates, and where institutions can commit grave injustices without anyone being held personally responsible.

Kasesi Ricky Peprah,the Author

On the other hand, we must not dismiss the real pressures within these institutions. Whistleblowers are rarely celebrated from within. Questioning an order can lead to ostracization, suspension, or even termination. In rigid hierarchies where loyalty is prized over ethics, and obedience over conscience, resisting a questionable command can seem all but impossible. Especially when the distinction between “unreasonable” and “unlawful” is murky.

And yet, the ability, and the responsibility, to push back must exist. Most democratic law enforcement frameworks explicitly empower officers to reject manifestly illegal or unethical commands. Many are trained to recognize and refuse such orders. The issue is often not ignorance, but fear, a lack of institutional support, and sometimes a lack of moral courage, to act on that knowledge.

“Orders from above” must never become a convenient alibi. Authority requires structure, yes, but it must also foster critical thinking and personal integrity. Security officers are not automatons; they are individuals entrusted with great power, and with it, great moral responsibility. The strength of any enforcement system is not measured by its compliance, but by the conscience of those who serve within it.

Obedience may serve order. But when it silences conscience, it serves injustice.

Respectfully yours,

Kasise Ricky Peprah

(The Honourrebel Siriguboy)

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