If there is one thing we Africans borrowed from the British and then overcooked until it became an unrecognizable, charcoal-burnt delicacy, it is our obsession with titles.
We didn’t just adopt the habit; we marinated it in palm oil, deep-fried it, and served it with extra pepper.
In Ghana, we can’t simply do the job. Oh, heaven forbid! No, the culturally approved method is to arrive like a presidential motorcade, with sirens blaring, outriders whipping taxi drivers before we even open our mouths to say “hello.”
In this country, a business card without a title is not an introduction; it is a piece of litter.
If you introduce a “Big Man” simply as “Mister,” you might as well have slapped his mother in the middle of Makola Market. We are suffering from a chronic, nationwide case of “Title-itis.”
Symptoms include: heavy breathing, chest puffing, and a dangerous spike in blood pressure whenever one is referred to as a mere civilian.
The Patron Saint of Ego Gymnastics
If we are looking for the global patron saint of this malady, look no further than the Grand Master himself, our very own Ugandan Uncle: Idi Amin.
This man didn’t collect titles; he hoarded them like it was a Black Friday Sale at the Ego Supermarket.
He treated honorifics like Pokémon, he had to catch ‘em all. He insisted on being known as:
“His Excellency President for Life, Field Marshal Al Hadji Doctor Idi Amin, VC, DSO, MC, CBE, Lord of all the Beasts of the Earth and Fishes of the Sea, and Conqueror of the British Empire in Africa in General and Uganda in Particular.”
Let’s be honest. If you have to declare dominion over the fishes of the sea to feel respected, you don’t need a throne; you need a therapist and a heavy dose of medication. Did he get to tax the sharks?… No! Did he hold town hall meetings with the tilapia?… Certainly not! That wasn’t a job description; that was a cry for help written in BLOCK CAPITALS.
Why Titles Matter to Us?
Here’s the thing. Humans have always tied their identity to their professions. Once upon a time in Europe, surnames came directly from what you did. Baker. Carpenter. Smith. If your dad sharpened knives, congratulations, your family name became Cutler and you were stuck explaining it for the next 400 years.
In Africa, colonial rule added a spicy twist. Because Europe sent their highly decorated, smartest-of-men to colonise Africa, so they landed on our shores with their Sir, Lord, Major, Captain, Doctor, Reverend, OBE, OMG, LMFAO…okay, maybe not the last two, but our ancestors thought… ahh, so respect comes in letters! Aha! So if you stack enough titles, people will stand up straighter when you enter a room.
Then Independence came, and instead of detoxing, we doubled down. We took the titles, seasoned them, garnished them, and sprinkled them across business cards.
Suddenly everyone became Dr, Prof, Rev Dr, Engr, Snr Engr, Apostle-General, Archbishop Emeritus, and sometimes all of them at once on the same billboard or funeral pamphlet.
It became our continental love language.
The real intellectual sport, however, lies in insisting others never forget your rank.
Some even demand correction mid-sentence: “Excuse me, it’s Professor Doctor Engineer Reverend Missus; you left out Engineer.” So as you can imagine, the bigger the title, the bigger the ego.
The One Time “Hon.” Becomes the Title Nobody Wanted to Claim
And then we have the honorary titles! Which is basically a thank-you gift with a fancy bow, or perhaps a participation trophy for adults not a licence to upgrade your entire identity. It is the academic equivalent of Monopoly money, it looks real, but you can’t spend it in the professional market place.
Universities or institutions award honorary doctorates or titles to recognise someone’s contribution to society, innovation, philanthropy, leadership, or cultural impact. It’s just a ceremonial pat on the back, not an academic qualification.
You didn’t sit the exams, you didn’t defend a thesis, and nobody stressed you with citations or supervisors who reply emails once every equinox.
Because it’s symbolic, honorary titles are meant to be used with humility and context.
The proper form is to keep the “honorary” part visible, as in “Hon. Dr.” or to simply avoid using “Dr” in everyday life altogether. It’s recognition, not a professional licence. But the moment people start dropping the “honorary” and calling themselves “Dr.” on TV, on billboards, on dating profiles, and on political posters… that’s when it becomes costume jewellery pretending to be gold. The title should honour you, not deceive others.
But in Ghana? Oh no. The moment a man gets an honorary doctorate, he starts performing surgery on his own identity.
He changes his passport. He changes his office door sign. He probably forces his wife to call him “Dr. Honey” in the bedroom.
Using an honorary title to get professional respect is like wearing a fake Gucci belt. You know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. But you are strutting around hoping that if you walk fast enough, nobody will spot the bad stitching.
Then there’s theology and evangelism, the most competitive title industry on the continent, titles have become their own spiritual Olympics, and everybody wants gold. A simple “Pastor” is now considered entry level, almost like spiritual National Service.
You can’t just be a “Pastor” anymore. That is too entry-level. That is like driving a Tico. You need to upgrade to “Prophet.” Then when the market gets saturated, you upgrade to “Apostle.” Then “Seer.” Then “General Overseer.”
Now, if your calling doesn’t come with at least three adjectives and a flowing robe, you’re obviously not yet “in the Spirit.”
We are currently at the stage where people are calling themselves “Angels.”, yes…Angel!
These are human beings who eat fufu and sweat in traffic, yet they claim to be celestial bodies. If you are an Angel, why are you stuck in the jam at the Tetteh Quarshie interchange? Fly! Flap your wings and go!
The funnier part is how people assume the more titles you stack, the closer you are to divine power, These titles were meant to reflect stewardship and humility, but somewhere along the line they turned into marketing tools, ego moisturisers, and branding strategies.
Instead of shepherding souls, some leaders are busy upgrading titles the way others upgrade phone.
Today, some church billboards look less like ministries and more like spiritual LinkedIn pages.
At this point, even heaven probably needs a verification department to keep track of who is who.
The Royal Weight of Traditional African Titles
Long before Africa caught the “Dr. Prof. Apostle-General” fever, our ancestors had already perfected the art of meaningful titles. Not the decorative type we sprinkle on WhatsApp bios today, but titles rooted in responsibility, heritage, and spiritual authority.
In traditional African societies, titles were earned through lineage, service, leadership, wisdom, and the ability to manage both human beings and the occasional stubborn clan member. These titles weren’t ego boosters; they were job descriptions woven into identity. And nowhere is this richer than in the Ashanti Kingdom, where titles carry the kind of prestige modern accolade collectors can only dream of.
Take the Asantehene, for instance. His titles are not only regal but poetic, dripping with history and weight. He is Otumfuo Osei Tutu II, the King of the Asante. Among his many honorifics is “ɔti kɔkɔ so” which means “he sits on gold.” Not metaphorical gold, not Bitcoin, not “gold-coloured plastic chairs” but actual gold. A reference to both the legendary Golden Stool and the kingdom’s abundance of wealth and dignity.
Compare that to today’s “Hon. Dr.” people who sit on nothing but their own inflated CVs. There’s “Nana,” meaning “grand leader or elder,” a title that signals wisdom, lineage, and revered authority.
The most iconic one is “Otumfuo”. A title so grand in Twi it basically means “The Almighty” or “The One in Majesty,” the kind of name you’d expect for someone who can silence a whole room just by clearing his throat,
Then we have “Kumasihene,” identifying him as chief of Kumasi, the heart of the kingdom. These aren’t just words. They are symbols, cultural GPS coordinates, each pointing to centuries of stewardship, sacrifice, and nationhood.
Traditional African titles were a far cry from today’s honorary glitter. They carried responsibility, not self-importance. A chief didn’t need twenty prefixes to command respect; his actions did the heavy lifting. His title wasn’t a costume but a covenant. And maybe… just maybe… if we borrowed a little of that authenticity today, we wouldn’t need GTEC to patrol academic titles or billboards to remind us who’s who. Traditional titles weren’t about ego, they were about identity, legacy, and service to the people.
The “Do You Know Who I Am?” Syndrome:
Imagine this scenario:
Policeman: “Boss, pull over. You were splitting lanes like you’re allergic to rush hour traffic.”
Big Man: (Lowers the window slowly, releasing a blast of AC like it’s Holy Ghost fire) “Officer… look at my face well.”
Policeman: “I’m looking, honourable. License, please.”
Big Man: “License? My brother, my FACE is the license. Do you know who I am? I am Honourable So-and-So, Member of Parliament, on official duties. Traffic does not apply to me. Traffic fears me.”
Policeman: “Ei, Honourable. No problem. Since traffic fears you, kindly fear this spot fine. That will be 500 cedis. Even big men pay when they misbehave on the road.”
Power Prefers Silence:
To prove that real power prefers silence, let’s look at ten global icons who are highly decorated, geniuses in their fields, and yet refuse to assault our ears with their credentials.
1. Angela Merkel (Germany)
She has a PhD in Quantum Chemistry. She is literally a rocket scientist who ran the European economy. She could demand to be called Frau Doktor, but she doesn’t. She leads with competence. Meanwhile, our local politician wants a 21-gun salute for commissioning a KVIP toilet.
2. Brian May (UK)
The guitarist for Queen. The man who wrote “We Will Rock You.” He is actually Dr. Brian May, a legitimate astrophysicist. Does he stop the concert to lecture the crowd on zodiacal dust? No. He just melts faces with a guitar solo.
3. Condoleezza Rice (USA)
Former Secretary of State, genius level intellect, PhD in Political Science. She could out-debate the entire Parliament of Ghana while making breakfast. Yet, she goes by “Condi.” She keeps it simple because she knows she’s the smartest person in the room.
4. Rowan Williams (UK)
The former Archbishop of Canterbury. A theological heavyweight with a brain the size of a planet. He rarely uses his doctorates. He’d rather be known for his wild eyebrows and his intellect than a piece of paper.
5. Michael Jackson (USA)
He even had an Honorary Doctor of Humane Letters (L.H.D.) from Fisk University in 1988 among his mountain of awards, but he never bothered with “Dr. Jackson.” When your name alone can stop traffic on every continent, prefixes become unnecessary baggage. You never heard anyone say “Dr. Michael Jackson” or “Professor King of Pop,” did you? The moonwalk handled all the credentials he needed
6. Rowan Atkinson (UK)
Mr. Bean. The man who gets his head stuck in turkeys. He has a Master’s degree in Electrical Engineering from Oxford. He could call himself “Engr. Atkinson,” but he prefers to mime, fall off chairs, and torment teddy bears. Why? Because being a legend is better than being an engineer.
7. Oprah Winfrey (USA)
She has enough honorary doctorates to start her own ivy league school. Yet, she is just “Oprah.” When you have one name, you don’t need a prefix. You don’t see “Dr. Michael Jordan” or “Prof. Beyoncé,” do you?
8. Bill Gates (USA)
Harvard chased him down years after he dropped out to give him a doctorate. Does his business card say “Dr. Bill Gates”? No. It probably just says “I own your operating system.” He’s too busy fixing malaria to worry about titles.
9. Trevor Noah (South Africa)
He has an honorary doctorate. He never uses “Dr. Noah.” He prefers “comedian,” “troublemaker,” or “the guy who fled America.” He knows that if you have to explain the joke, it’s not funny. If you have to explain the title, you aren’t important.
10. Malala Yousafzai (Pakistan)
Nobel Laureate. Honorary doctorates from everywhere. She took a bullet for education. She could demand “Dr. Malala” at age 26. But she doesn’t. She leads with activism, not decoration.
The Conclusion: The GTEC Exorcism
Back home, the situation has become so comedic that the Ghana Tertiary Education Commission (GTEC) has stepped in like a bouncer at a nightclub.
They are threatening to strip these fake titles. And let me tell you, there is panic in the VIP section.
Pastors are frantically editing their billboards with Tipp-Ex.
Politicians are sweating because without “Honourable” attached to their name, they are just “Unemployed Uncle.”
It is a tragedy.
If GTEC succeeds, we might have to judge people by their character instead of their acronyms. And frankly, I’m not sure our egos can survive such a brutal reality check.
The Slippery Slope:
We need this crackdown. Because if we don’t stop this now, in five years, you will meet a man at a wedding, ask for his card, and he will hand you an A4 sheet of paper that reads:
“His Royal Majesty, The Arch-Bishop-Commander of the Intergalactic Realm, CEO of Everything, PhD in Life, Dr. Kojo Smith (Esq).”
And the rest of us will bow. Because in this country, we don’t respect the man; we respect the noise he makes.
