Ecobank is under public scrutiny following a controversial branding campaign that featured a Sarkodie lookalike without the rapper’s involvement or consent. The incident has sparked debates over intellectual property rights and brand authenticity, with fans and industry stakeholders calling for greater accountability in corporate marketing practices.
What’s not in the balance sheet is often what tips the scale. Because every now and then, a story comes along that exposes not what a brand owns, but what it is. And in that moment, reputation, identity, and memory collide louder than any press release. In the end, it may not be the lookalike that injures the brand the most, it is the bank‘s apparent failure to recognize itself in the mirror.
You would expect that an institution as storied as Ecobank, with branches stretching from Accra to Abidjan and from Lusaka to Lome, would have the foresight to check its own reflection before stepping into the public square. But alas, even giants sometimes stumble on pebbles of their own making. And this time, the pebble allegedly came dressed in Timberlands and dark glasses, mimicking Ghana‘s musical royalty, Sarkodie.
Yes, the same Sarkodie of “Adonai” fame, lyrical priest of the masses, cultural ambassador in hoodie and snapback. The rapper who turns syllables into sermons has now turned his attention to the law courts, filing a lawsuit against Ecobank Ghana and one of his mimics for what he claims is an unauthorized use of his image, or something allegedly painfully close to it, in a promotional campaign.
Now pause. How did we get here?
Allegedly impersonated in a promotional campaign, Michael Owusu Addo, known as Sarkodie, has taken legal action against Ecobank and an actor for damages and an injunction. The campaign featured a lookalike allegedly styled to mimic the rapper closely enough to cause confusion, or worse, suggest an unauthorized endorsement. For an artist who has meticulously built his image over two decades, this is no trivial matter. Image is currency, and someone allegedly tried to spend his without consent.
But the deeper question is not about legalities alone. It is about a brand that forgot to read its own policy manual. How does a Tier 1 bank, fluent in risk assessments and due diligence, let such an oversight allegedly slip through the fine-toothed comb of compliance?
Let us consider the inner workings of such institutions. There are departments for everything, Compliance, Legal, Communications, and more acronyms than a WAEC exam. Somewhere in that alphabet soup, someone ought to have allegedly raised a flag.
In well-run institutions, the process goes like this: Brand wants to run a campaign. A known figure is involved or imitated. Legal asks: “Do we have consent?” Comms asks: “Does this align with brand values?” Risk asks: “What happens if we’re sued?” Then, and only then, the ad runs. If this flowchart existed at Ecobank Ghana, either it wasn’t followed, or the alarms were allegedly ignored. And herein lies the rub.
Brand misalignment isn’t new, especially in our part of the world where creative exuberance sometimes outpaces legal restraint. Ghana and her West African neighbours have served up their fair share of branding blunders. In 2013, the actor John Dumelo allegedly threatened legal action over the use of his image without consent by Joy Dadi Bitters. The bitters may have been strong, but the backlash was stronger. The matter ended quietly, but the lessons echoed. In 2015, Nigerian comedian Basketmouth alleged that MTN reused his skit without proper clearance. MTN got its fingers burnt and had to rebuild its influencer policy. And in 2017, a Guinness Ghana campaign allegedly bore semblance to rapper Manifest’s aesthetic, though he never formally endorsed it. The confusion lingered, and the brand had to clean house quietly.
In all these, the issue was the same: somewhere along the corporate conveyor belt, someone forgot that branding without boundaries is a lawsuit allegedly waiting to happen.
Ecobank is no fly-by-night microfinance startup. It’s a continental behemoth with institutional muscle. Which is why this episode feels less like negligence and more like systemic drift.
We must ask: Was there no Brand Risk Oversight Committee? Did no one cross-check the content before it aired? Is the legal department merely for drafting facility agreements and allegedly ignoring PR blunders?
Even a branchless fintech startup in Osu now knows that you don’t associate a public figure with your brand, directly or indirectly, without explicit permission. If Ecobank doesn’t know this, then we are not in normal times.
This is not just about Sarkodie. It is about the future of corporate accountability.
Investor confidence could wobble. Global shareholders may not appreciate litigation risks from poor marketing oversight. Customer trust could erode. If you can’t manage a photo, how do you manage my money? Creative partnerships may dry up. No artist wants to be the next impersonated ambassador. The last thing a bank wants is to become the butt of Twitter jokes or trending for the wrong reasons; #FakeSarkInMyAd.
The time for internal memos and whisper campaigns is over. Ecobank must respond not just legally, but institutionally: Settle swiftly and transparently. Do not let this case fester like an unpaid overdraft. Reinforce marketing governance. Make it as robust as your KYC requirements. Create a Brand Use Charter. Include penalties for violations, even by external vendors. Use the moment to lead. Publish your new standards, and become the case study for best practices, not cautionary tales.
In our Ghanaian wisdom, we say: “When the mirror cracks, the face is not to blame.” But in this case, the mirror was fine. It was the institution that allegedly forgot what it looked like.
Ecobank must fix its reflection, not just to resolve this case with Sarkodie, but to restore the clarity of a brand that once stood unshaken in the eyes of the African banking world. If not, the lookalike scandal may be the least of its worries.
