A political obituary of entitlement and exile
“Greed, overambition, and entitlement are not drive – they are slow psychological cancers, eating the very instinct that once made ambition noble” – J. A. Sarbah
There are men who rise by destiny, and there are men who rise by design.
Alan Kyerematen was neither.
He was the ornamental prince of Ghana’s political stage – a man adorned in privilege, polished by diplomacy, and spoken of as “the future” long before he ever proved his presence.
From the start, Alan’s political journey was a mirror reflecting more illusion than intent. He never built a constituency; he inherited applause. He mistook admiration for allegiance, and civility for loyalty. Within the New Patriotic Party (NPP), he was always the distinguished outsider – too refined to wrestle, too entitled to mobilize, too content to wait for the crown that never came.
He believed his good looks, aristocratic heritage, and elite education were a constituency of their own – as though charm, lineage, and credentials could substitute for grassroots sweat. But politics, unlike pedigree, demands proximity. And Alan never walked close enough to the dust where power is truly made.
When he faced Akufo-Addo in 2007, he lost the throne he thought was his by birthright. In 2010, he tried again and met the same fate. By 2014, his humiliation was near total – less than five percent of the vote, a royal reduced to a whisper. Still, he lingered, cloaked in quiet bitterness, until 2023 when Bawumia’s victory finally broke his illusion. Alan resigned, not with rebellion, but resignation of spirit – the prince walking away from a castle that was never his.
Then came the Movement for Change – his final act, an echo of independence without the substance of insurgency. He promised a “third force,” but what emerged was a third footnote. In the 2024 elections, the man once called “Alan Cash” barely managed 31,000 votes – less than one percent of the nation’s faith. The people saw what the prophets had long discerned: a man adorned with all attributes of leadership except the heart to lead.
But even after the verdict of 2024, he could not let the dream die. In 2025, he rebranded his broken banner into the United Party, hoping to breathe life into the ashes. Yet the revival had no pulse. It was a pilgrimage to nowhere – another emblem, another name, but no nation behind it. The forest had moved on, leaving him to wander its silence.
Perhaps, in private, Alan knew what history would not say aloud – that charm without struggle is a slow death. Behind the measured smile and polished words, there may have lingered the quiet ache of a man who watched promise dissolve into memory.
Alan Kyerematen’s tragedy is not one of failure, but of refusal.
Refusal to fight.
Refusal to evolve.
Refusal to earn what he assumed was owed.
His politics was poetry without pressure – an architecture of hope built on sand.
He exits the stage not as a fallen titan, but as a forgotten heir – his legacy a quiet caution to all who believe charm can replace conviction.
In the ledger of Ghana’s political history, Alan’s chapter reads like an unfinished sermon: beautiful diction, no conversion. The prophetic truth is simple – grace ungirded by grit becomes decay.
Alan Kyerematen dreamt of leading a nation.
In the end, he couldn’t even lead a movement.
Epitaph: “Here lies the Gentle Giant – too tall to bend, too proud to build, and too late to matter.”
J. A. Sarbah.
