Ghana’s legal framework for surrogacy has evolved with the passage of the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 2020 (Act 1027), which, for the first time, provides statutory recognition and a mechanism, through High Court parental orders, for regularizing parentage in assisted reproductive arrangements. However, in this article by Joseph Ackah-Blay argues that while this represents progress, Ghana still lacks a coherent and comprehensive legal regime for surrogacy.

Surrogacy in Ghana: Legal parenthood, registration, and the rights of the surrogate

By Joseph Ackah-Blay, Esq.

Surrogacy is no longer a novelty in Ghana. More families are turning to it. More clinics are facilitating it. More lawyers are being asked to structure it. The law, for its part, has started to respond. But only just. It is no longer entirely correct to say Ghana has no law on surrogacy. That position, while once accurate, no longer reflects the statutory landscape. Yet it would be equally wrong to suggest that Ghana now has a coherent and comprehensive legal regime governing assisted reproduction. It does not. What we have instead is something in between: statutory recognition without full regulation; legislative movement without complete legislative architecture.

That framework is found principally in the Registration of Births and Deaths Act, 2020 (Act 1027). Through it, Parliament has for the first time given express statutory recognition to assisted reproductive births and created a mechanism through which parentage arising from surrogacy may be regularised. That is progress. But progress and completion are not the same thing.

The Constitutional Framework

The 1992 Constitution says nothing directly about surrogacy. That is hardly surprising. The Constitution predates the modern fertility industry and was never drafted with assisted reproductive technology in mind. Still, constitutional principles remain relevant.

Article 15(1) provides that: “The dignity of all persons shall be inviolable.”

That matters. It places constitutional limits on how surrogate mothers may be treated, what may be demanded of them, and how far contractual arrangements may go. The Constitution also speaks to the welfare of children. Article 28(1)(a) requires legislative protection for children, while section 2 of the Children’s Act, 1998 (Act 560) reiterates the settled principle that the best interests of the child shall be paramount in any matter concerning a child. These principles will almost certainly frame any judicial consideration of a surrogacy dispute if and when one comes before the courts.

What the Law Now Provides

The centrepiece of Ghana’s present surrogacy framework is section 22 of Act 1027. It creates a statutory process through which intended parents and surrogate mothers may apply to the High Court for orders relating to legal parentage in assisted reproductive arrangements. The provision contemplates both pre-birth and post-birth applications.

Under section 22(2), an intended parent may apply within twelve weeks after the introduction of the embryo or gamete into the surrogate for what is, in substance, a pre-birth parental order. If satisfied as to the evidence of parentage and the existence of the surrogacy arrangement, the High Court may direct that the intended parent, the surrogate, or both be named as the legal parent or parents of the child. This requirement kicks in if the birth occurs within twenty-eight weeks of the order.

Where no such order is obtained before birth, the Act permits a further application after birth for a parental or substitute parentage order, upon which the Court may direct the registration or re-registration of the child’s birth accordingly. This post-birth order must be requested for earlier than twenty-eight days after birth and not later than six months after birth. Such an order is treated in the form of an adoption proceeding. An important point worth noting is that where a substitute parentage order is granted, the original birth record is struck out, sealed and kept confidential, and the child gains a right to access it at the age of twenty-one.

Without such an order, the default statutory position is plain enough: the woman who gives birth is to be registered as the mother of the child. That is no small development. It is the first serious legislative acknowledgment that surrogacy exists within Ghanaian family life and requires legal accommodation. But this acknowledgment is not clarity. The courts have not yet had much opportunity to develop jurisprudence on section 22. How precisely the provision will operate in contested or difficult cases remains to be seen.

The Contract Matters

Surrogacy arrangements are typically reduced into writing between intended parents and the surrogate. That is prudent. Indeed, it is essential. Such agreements usually address parentage, medical care, compensation, confidentiality, and consent to subsequent legal processes. Still, a surrogacy agreement should not be mistaken for a complete legal solution. It may record intention. It may regulate expectations. It may provide evidence. But no Ghanaian statute presently provides that such an agreement, by itself, conclusively determines legal parentage. Nor have the courts definitively pronounced on the extent to which such agreements may be enforced in the event of dispute. The contract is important. It simply is not everything.

When the Surrogate Is Married

Things become more complicated where the surrogate is married. Under section 32 of the Evidence Act, 1975 (N.R.C.D. 323), a child born during a marriage is presumed to be the child of the husband of the mother. The presumption is rebuttable. But unless rebutted, it remains the legal starting point. Its practical implication is obvious enough: where a married surrogate carries a child, her husband may presumptively occupy the position of legal father unless the appropriate legal and evidential steps are taken to establish otherwise. That is one reason lawyers may advise on the husband’s participation in the relevant documentation and legal process where applicable.

What of Adoption?

Before Act 1027, adoption was commonly used in practice to regularize parentage after surrogacy arrangements. Whether that remains necessary in every case is no longer entirely clear. Section 22 of ACT 1027 has changed the landscape. To what extent it has displaced adoption as the principal route to legal parenthood in surrogacy matters is a question the courts are yet to answer with any real precision. For now, the relationship between the parental-order mechanism under Act 1027 and the adoption framework under the Children’s Act remains a developing one.

The Surrogate Is Not Merely a Vessel

In public discourse, discussions of surrogacy often focus almost entirely on intended parents. The surrogate is treated as incidental to the arrangement. Legally, she is not. She remains a rights-bearing actor throughout the process. She retains bodily autonomy. No law authorises intended parents to compel her to undergo treatment, submit to procedures, or make reproductive decisions against her will. She retains dignity protections under Article 15(1). And until the statutory process under Act 1027 is completed, the precise contours of her legal position remain, in several respects, underdeveloped in Ghanaian jurisprudence. That uncertainty is not merely theoretical. It has practical implications for everyone involved.

Outstanding Work

Act 1027 is a meaningful beginning. It is not a finished framework. Other jurisdictions have gone considerably further. South Africa, for example, requires judicial confirmation of surrogate motherhood agreements before conception under Chapter 19 of its Children’s Act 38 of 2005.

The United Kingdom provides a dedicated parental-order regime under section 54 of the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act 2008. Ghana, by contrast, still lacks a dedicated assisted reproduction statute, detailed procedural rules for surrogacy applications, and developed jurisprudence on the operation of its existing provisions.

The law has begun to speak. It has not yet said enough.

Conclusion

Surrogacy now sits within Ghana’s statutory framework. That much is clear. What remains less clear is how far that framework goes, how the courts will interpret it, and whether it is sufficient for the realities of a growing assisted reproduction industry. Act 1027 has moved the law forward. It has not completed the journey. Until the courts provide fuller guidance or Parliament enacts a more comprehensive legislative scheme, surrogacy in Ghana will remain an area of legal recognition attended by legal uncertainty. And where the law is uncertain, caution is not optional. It is essential.

Joseph Ackah-Blay is an Associate at Renaissance Law Chambers, where he advises on corporate, commercial, regulatory, IT law and private legal matters. He writes generally on law, governance, and emerging legal issues. He holds a B.A., LL.B and QCL. He can be reached at j.ackahblay74@gmail.com

In this opinion analysis, writer Stephen Armah Quaye examines the hidden crisis of modern migration, arguing that the pursuit of a better life too often becomes a trap of exploitation and modern-day slavery. Quaye calls for a shift in conversation from borders and legality toward education, legal pathways, victim protection, and accurate information-sharing among governments, communities, and potential migrants. The central question, he concludes, is not whether people will move, but whether they will move safely or be moved into danger.

Between Hope and Exploitation: The hidden truth about migration in a globalized world

By Stephen Armah Quaye

When the journey for a better life becomes a trap, migration stops being a dream and starts becoming a dangerous gamble.

Every day, headlines emerge about immigration fraudsters, human traffickers, and organised networks exploiting desperate migrants. Promises are made of opportunity, safety, and prosperity in countries like the United States and Canada. But for many, those promises collapse into harsh realities of exploitation, fear, and in some cases, modern-day slavery hidden in plain sight.

It is a difficult truth many are reluctant to confront.

While law enforcement agencies continue to arrest and prosecute traffickers, some receiving life sentences,s the deeper crisis persists. Victims are rescued, yes, but countless others remain trapped in silence, bound not by chains but by fear, debt, and manipulation. This is the face of modern trafficking,g subtle, psychological, and often invisible.
Contrary to popular belief, slavery did not disappear with history. It evolved.

According to insights from the Civil Rights Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, coercion today is rarely physical. Victims are controlled emotionally, psychologically, and financially. Their documents may be seized, their movements restricted, and their voices silenced through threats both real and implied. The result is a system of control just as powerful as chains, but far less visible.

And the scale of the problem? No one truly knows.

Migration itself is not the enemy. In fact, it is one of the oldest human stories ever told. From biblical accounts where figures like Abraham journeyed to unknown lands, and Moses led a people to freedom, om to modern economic migration, movement has always been part of human survival and progress.

Even Jesus Christ, as a child, was taken by his parents to Egypt to escape danger. Migration, therefore, is not new. What has changed is the complexity and the risks.
According to the International Organisation for Migration, global migration continues to rise, driven by economic need, conflict, environmental pressures, and the search for opportunity. While earlier reports estimated over 244 million international migrants, more recent trends suggest that number has grown significantly, reflecting an increasingly interconnected world.
Yet behind the statistics are real human stories.

People leave their homes not because they want to but because they feel they have no choice. Poverty, unemployment, war, political instability, and environmental disasters push them out. At the same time, the promise of better jobs, education, safety, and stability pulls them toward developed nations.

These are known as push and pull factors, the forces that shape migration decisions. Organisations like OneAmerica emphasise that migration is rarely a simple decision. It is often a calculated risk taken under pressure. Similarly, migration advisory groups point out that while some migrants move voluntarily, many are forced, driven by circumstances beyond their control.

But here lies the danger.

When desperation meets opportunity without proper information or legal pathways, exploitation thrives. Unscrupulous agents and trafficking networks position themselves as “helpers,” offering shortcuts through immigration systems. They promise visas, jobs, and safe passage. Instead, many migrants find themselves trapped working under abusive conditions, living in fear of deportation, and stripped of their rights.

This is where migration becomes a crisis.

The law attempts to respond, but it is not always straightforward. International migration law, as explained by global frameworks, is not governed by a single unified system. Instead, it is a complex web of treaties, agreements, and national policies that vary from country to country. This makes enforcement difficult and creates loopholes that traffickers exploit.

At the same time, destination countries like Canada and the United States continue to strengthen border controls and immigration systems. While these measures are designed to protect national security and regulate entry, they can also unintentionally push vulnerable migrants toward illegal routes where risks are far greater.

So, the question must be asked: where do you stand?
Are you being pushed by hardship, or pulled by opportunity? And more importantly, are you informed enough to make that journey safely?
Migration, at its core, is neither good nor bad. It is a reality of human existence. But illegal migration, especially when driven by misinformation and desperation,n can lead to devastating consequences.

The conversation must shift.

Instead of viewing migration solely through the lens of borders and legality, there must be a greater focus on education, awareness, and protection. Potential migrants must understand the risks, know their rights, and seek legal pathways. Governments must strengthen not only enforcement, but also support systems for victims. And communities both at home and abroad must play a role in sharing accurate information.

Because behind every migration story is a human life.
A dream. A sacrifice. A risk.
And sometimes, a regret.

Migration will continue as it always has. But whether it becomes a story of success or suffering depends on the choices made before the journey begins.
The real question is not whether people will move.
It is whether they will move safely or be moved into danger.

This article analyzes Ghana’s Supreme Court case (No. J1/3/2026), which challenges the constitutional validity of the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) operating independently from the Attorney-General, as vested by Article 88 of the 1992 Constitution. The author, Amanda Clinton, argues that the OSP is positioned to defend its institutional survival by asserting parliamentary authority and the need for anti-corruption insulation from political influence. The piece places Ghana’s legal dilemma within a global pattern, comparing it to the dissolved Scorpions in South Africa, the constrained EACC in Kenya, and the politically pressured EFCC in Nigeria. The article states that the Supreme Court’s ruling will determine whether Ghana adopts a model of centralized prosecutorial control or a rare framework of institutional balance, with significant implications for anti-corruption credibility across Africa.

Ghana’s OSP case and the global pattern of prosecutorial control

By Amanda Clinton

Ghana’s Supreme Court case, No. J1/3/2026, is more than a technical constitutional dispute.

At its core lies a defining question for the country’s governance architecture: can the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) exist with meaningful prosecutorial independence, or must it operate strictly under the authority of the Attorney-General? That question has surfaced elsewhere—and the answers have rarely been neutral.

THE IMMEDIATE LEGAL FAULT LINE

The case challenges the constitutional validity of an independent prosecutorial body alongside the Attorney-General under Article 88 of the 1992 Constitution, which vests prosecutorial authority in the AG. This places the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) at the very center of the dispute. In such situations, the OSP is not a passive observer. It can:

• Apply to be joined as an interested party, or
• File its own statement of case if already joined

Recent signals suggest it will not stand aside. The OSP has indicated it will challenge interpretations that subordinate it entirely to the Attorney-General, pointing to earlier judicial reasoning that allowed some operational autonomy. If it proceeds, its legal arguments are predictable but significant:

• Parliamentary authority to create specialized prosecutorial institutions
• A delegation framework, where the AG’s powers can be exercised through statutory bodies
• The anti-corruption rationale, which depends on insulation from political influence
• And a practical continuity argument: the OSP has already prosecuted cases—removing that power now risks legal uncertainty

This is not a peripheral intervention. It is a direct defence of institutional survival.

A FAMILIAR GLOBAL PATTERN

Ghana is not navigating new terrain. The tension between central prosecutorial authority and independent anti-corruption bodies has played out in multiple jurisdictions—with strikingly similar trajectories.

SOUTH AFRICA: THE RISE AND FALL OF THE SCORPIONS

The Scorpions were once a formidable anti-corruption unit with prosecutorial teeth. As their investigations moved closer to political elites, pressure mounted. Ultimately, they were dissolved and replaced with a less independent structure.

Institutional continuity was preserved in form, but operational independence was diluted. Public trust in anti-corruption enforcement took a measurable hit.

Effect: Institutional continuity was preserved in form, but operational independence was diluted. Public trust in anti-corruption enforcement took a measurable hit.

KENYA: EACC’S CONSTRAINED MANDATE

Kenya’s Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission (EACC) was established with investigative powers but lacks prosecutorial independence. It must refer cases to the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), who retains full discretion over whether to proceed.

Effect: High-profile investigations have stalled at the prosecution stage. The structural subordination creates a bottleneck that can be exploited politically.

NIGERIA: EFCC UNDER POLITICAL PRESSURE

The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) operates with statutory prosecutorial powers, but its leadership has been subject to repeated political interference. Changes in administration have consistently led to shifts in enforcement priorities and leadership turnover.

Effect: The EFCC’s credibility fluctuates with political cycles. Its effectiveness is undermined not by constitutional constraints, but by a lack of institutional insulation.

THE PATTERN IS CLEAR

Where anti-corruption bodies have meaningful independence, they face sustained political pressure. Where they lack independence, they struggle to function effectively. The question is not whether tension will arise—it is how it will be resolved.

GHANA’S INSTITUTIONAL CHOICE

The Supreme Court’s decision will not merely interpret Article 88. It will determine whether Ghana opts for a model that prioritizes centralized prosecutorial control or one that permits institutional pluralism in the fight against corruption.

If the OSP’s independence is curtailed, Ghana joins a long list of jurisdictions where anti-corruption enforcement is formally robust but operationally constrained. If the Court finds room for both the AG and the OSP to coexist with distinct mandates, it creates a rare model of institutional balance.

THE STAKES BEYOND GHANA

This case matters beyond Ghana’s borders. It will be studied across Africa as a precedent for how constitutional interpretation shapes anti-corruption architecture. The decision will influence:

How other jurisdictions structure their own anti-corruption frameworks
The credibility of specialized prosecutorial institutions continent-wide
Investor confidence in governance stability and rule of law
The global pattern suggests that independence, once conceded, is rarely restored. If the OSP loses this case, it may never regain the autonomy it once had.

WHAT COMES NEXT

The OSP has signaled it will defend its mandate. The arguments will be legal, but the implications are deeply political. The Supreme Court will not simply rule on constitutional text—it will shape the future of anti-corruption enforcement in Ghana.

And if history is any guide, the outcome will echo far beyond the courtroom.

About the author:

Amanda Akuokor Clinton, Esq. LL.B, M.Sc, BVC, Gh. Bar

Amanda is the Founding Partner of Clinton Consultancy and a dynamic lawyer who was called to the Bar in England and Wales thirteen years ago and the Ghanaian Bar ten years ago. Amanda is a litigation expert with extensive corporate law experience in the U.K and Ghana. As one of the most recognised commercial lawyers in Ghana, she is regularly instructed by international clients who require bespoke, timely and accurate Due Diligence Reports as well as Legal Opinions: corporate, banking, telecommunications, property & construction and energy & infrastructure.