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Ghana’s media economy and its sustainability
At the close of 2025, a colleague within the media fraternity quietly declared his intention to resign from his station. That same evening, while driving through Kumasi, my attention was drawn to a conspicuous billboard announcing the arrival of yet another radio station in the city.
Within twenty-four hours, social media was awash with a flyer declaring that the entire on-air team of an established station had migrated wholesale to a competing network.
One could only wish them well and hope that their professional commitment and hard work (Sompa) over the years would translate into brighter (Owia) prospects. Ironically, a new palace (Ahemfie) has been established at the Central Business District of Kumasi with a PhD friend on board.
In my own backyard, rumours of internal destabilisation intensified. As this article goes to press, such speculations persist, notwithstanding repeated assurances to the contrary. These episodic developments raise a fundamental and uncomfortable question: who truly benefits from the Media Economy in Ghana?
The prevailing labour dynamics offer a revealing lens. A typical on-air personality is routinely “poached” from one station to another under an agreed fee and a fixed term of service. Standard contractual clauses often require the presenter to reimburse the previous employer or return station property before assuming the new role.
When subjected to simple arithmetic, the model is deeply troubling: within two or three years, the same presenter is compelled to seek yet another “poaching fee” from a new investor to offset obligations and maintain income levels. The result is a perpetual cycle of movement. Who benefits?
The strain, however, is not borne by labour alone. An investor friend recently confided his regret at establishing a media house. In retrospect, he believes he was either misinformed or ‘disinformed’ about the financial viability and growth projections of broadcasting ventures.
“How does one survive in this deplorable media economy?” he asked, with palpable frustration. Today, his principal challenge is not expansion or innovation, but the difficult task of offloading the business to a willing off-taker.
In practical terms, many media houses in Ghana are bleeding financially. This lament is not anecdotal; it is a recurring narrative echoed by investors across the spectrum. Advertising revenues are thin and fragmented, operational costs are rising, and audience loyalty is increasingly volatile in a crowded and highly competitive market. Yet, paradoxically, new entrants continue to emerge, propelled by an enduring but misleading narrative of imminent profitability and influence.
It is this false optimism, the mythology of quick returns and effortless relevance, that is slowly eroding the industry. Without a sober reassessment of ownership models, labour relations, revenue diversification, and regulatory enforcement, the Ghanaian media economy risks becoming structurally unsustainable.
What is required is not merely the multiplication of stations or the recycling of talent, but a strategic rethinking of media as a long-term public and economic institution. Until then, the cycle of hope, disappointment, and exit is likely to remain the defining feature of Ghana’s media landscape.
It must be emphasized that radio in Ghana can be phenomenally successful in terms of listenership, visibility, and audience influence, even when it is not financially viable. Many stations command massive daily audiences, shape public opinion, drive political discourse, and dominate the cultural soundscape of their respective localities.
Yet, paradoxically, these same stations often struggle to translate such popularity into sustainable revenue streams. In effect, audience capital has not consistently converted into economic capital.
