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Venezuela, Gaza, Ukraine: is the UN failing?

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In this article by Juliette McIntyre, Adelaide University and Tamsin Phillipa Paige, Deakin University, the authors reflect on growing global concern that the United Nations — particularly the UN Security Council — is struggling to fulfil its core mandate of maintaining international peace and security amid major crises like the U.S. military operation in Venezuela, the ongoing conflict in Gaza, and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

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The United Nations turned 80 in October last year; a venerable age for the most significant international organisation the world has ever seen.

But events of recent years – from last weekend’s Trumpian military action to seize Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro and Russia’s unlawful invasion of Ukraine in 2022, to the ongoing humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza – represent major challenges to the UN system.

Many are now asking whether the United Nations has any future at all if it cannot fulfil its first promise of maintaining international peace and security.

Has the UN reached the end of its lifespan?

The UN Security Council

The organ of the UN that plays the main role maintaining peace and security is the UN Security Council.

Under the rules established by the UN Charter, military action – the use of force – is only lawful if it has been authorised by a resolution from the UN Security Council (as outlined in Article 42 of the Charter), or if the state in question is acting in self-defence.

Self-defence is governed by strict rules requiring it to be in response to an armed attack (Article 51). Even then, self-defence is lawful only until the Security Council has stepped in to restore international peace and security.

The Security Council is made up of 15 member states:

  • five permanent (China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States – also known as the P5)
  • ten non-permanent members elected for two-year terms.

Resolutions require nine affirmative votes and no veto from any permanent member, giving the P5 decisive control over all action on peace and security.

This was set up expressly to prevent the UN from being able to take action against the major powers (the “winners” of the second world war), but also to allow them to act as a balance to each other’s ambitions.

This system only works, however, when the P5 agree to abide by the rules.

Could the UN veto system be reformed?

As aptly demonstrated by the Russians and Americans in recent years, the veto power can render the Security Council effectively useless, no matter how egregious the breach of international law.

For that reason, the veto is often harshly criticised.

As one of us (Tamsin Paige) has explained previously, however, self-serving use of the veto power (meaning when a member state uses its veto power to further its own interests) may be politically objectionable but it is not legally prohibited.

The UN Charter imposes no enforceable limits on veto use.

Nor is there any possibility of a judicial review of the Security Council at the moment.

And herein lies one of the most significant and deliberate design flaws of the UN system.

The charter places the P5 above the law, granting them not only the power to veto collective action, but also the power to veto any attempt at reform.

Reforming the UN Security Council veto is thus theoretically conceivable – Articles 108 and 109 of the charter allow for it – but functionally impossible.

Dissolving and reconstituting the UN under a new charter is the only structural alternative.

This, however, would require a level of global collectivism that presently does not exist. One or more of the P5 would likely block any reform or redesign that would see the loss of their veto power.

An uncomfortable truth

It does, therefore, appear as though we are witnessing the collapse of the UN-led international peace and security system in real time.

The Security Council cannot – by design – intervene when the P5 (China, France, Russia, the UK and US) are the aggressors.

But focusing only on the Security Council risks missing much of what the UN actually does, every day, largely out of sight.

Despite its paralysis when it comes to great-power conflict, the UN is not a hollow institution.

The Secretariat, for instance, supports peacekeeping and political missions and helps organise international conferences and negotiations.

The Human Rights Council monitors and reports on human rights compliance.

UN-administered agencies coordinate humanitarian relief and deliver life-saving aid.

The UN machinery touches on everything from health to human rights to climate and development, performing functions that no single state can replicate alone.

None of this work requires Security Council involvement, but all of it depends on the UN’s institutional infrastructure (of which the Security Council is an integral part).

The uncomfortable truth is we have only one real choice at present: a deeply flawed global institution, or none at all.

The future of the UN may simply be one of sheer endurance, holding together what can still function and waiting for political conditions to change.

We support it not because it works perfectly, or even well, but because losing it would be much worse.

Should we work towards a better system that doesn’t reward the powerful by making them unaccountable? Absolutely.

But we shouldn’t throw out all of the overlooked good the UN does beyond the Security Council’s chambers because of the naked hypocrisy and villainy of the P5.

Juliette McIntyre, Senior Lecturer in Law, Adelaide University and Tamsin Phillipa Paige, Associate Professor, Deakin Law School, Deakin University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Commentary

Ghana’s AI Strategy is more than a policy, it is a declaration of digital sovereignty

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In this feature commentary, George Spencer Quaye argues that Ghana’s newly launched National AI Strategy represents far more than a routine policy document; it is a deliberate “declaration of digital sovereignty” aimed at repositioning Africa from a consumer of foreign technologies to a builder and owner of intelligent systems.


Ghana’s AI Strategy is more than a policy, it is a declaration of digital sovereignty

By George Spencer Quaye

Last Friday, in Accra, Ghana did more than launch a strategy.

Under the leadership of H.E. President John Dramani Mahama, and through the stewardship of the Minister for Communications, Digital Technology and Innovation, Samuel Nartey George, the country issued what must be understood for what it truly is:

A declaration of digital sovereignty in the age of artificial intelligence.

At a time when global power is increasingly defined not by territory or raw resources, but by control over data, algorithms, and compute infrastructure, Ghana has made a strategic choice—to compete, to lead, and crucially, to own its place in the emerging AI order.

This is not a symbolic move. It is a political one.

The Politics of Intelligence

Artificial intelligence is often framed as a technological revolution. That framing is incomplete.

AI is about power.

It determines:

  • Who controls knowledge
  • Who shapes economic value
  • Who defines truth in digital systems
  • And ultimately, who governs the future

For too long, Africa has sat at the receiving end of global technological systems—importing platforms, exporting raw data, and absorbing outcomes shaped elsewhere.

That model is no longer sustainable.

Ghana’s National AI Strategy confronts this reality head-on. By committing to sovereign AI infrastructure, investing in local innovation ecosystems, and proposing governance institutions to regulate the deployment of intelligent systems, the government is signaling a break from dependency.

It is asserting that Africa must not only participate in the AI revolution—but must negotiate its terms.

From Digital Dependence to Digital Control

The implications of this shift are profound.

A National AI Computing Centre is not just infrastructure—it is strategic autonomy.
An AI Fund is not just financing—it is control over innovation direction.
A Responsible AI Authority is not just regulation—it is protection against digital subjugation.

Taken together, these moves represent an attempt to reposition Ghana—and by extension Africa—from the periphery of the digital economy to its commanding heights.

In the AI era, those commanding heights are no longer mines or oil fields.
They are data centres, algorithms, and digital infrastructure.

A Continental Imperative

Ghana’s move must not remain a national story.

It must become a continental turning point.

Because the reality is stark: if African countries do not build sovereign AI capabilities, they risk entering a new era of digital colonialism—one where decisions about African economies, societies, and governance are increasingly mediated by foreign-owned intelligent systems.

This is not alarmism. It is already happening.

From financial algorithms to content moderation systems, from credit scoring to predictive analytics, Africa is being modeled, interpreted, and influenced by systems it does not control.

Ghana’s strategy is therefore not just timely—it is necessary.

But it cannot stand alone.

From Strategy to Doctrine: The Role of MOBEX Africa

At MOBEX Africa, we view this moment as pivotal.

Our theme—“Resetting Africa’s Digital Identity and Sovereignty; From Promise to Practice”—was conceived around the recognition that Africa must move from digital participation to digital control.

The launch of Ghana’s AI Strategy validates that thesis.

But validation is not enough. What is required now is coordination, alignment, and execution at scale.

At the upcoming MOBEX Africa Tech Innovation Conference, we will:

  • Interrogate national AI strategies and their readiness for implementation
  • Convene policymakers, regulators, and industry leaders to define governance frameworks
  • Showcase real-world applications of AI in public systems
  • Advance the development of an Accra Declaration on AI Sovereignty

The Test Ahead

Commendation is deserved.

The leadership shown by President Mahama, Minister Sam George, and the Government of Ghana in taking this bold, forward-looking step must be acknowledged.

But strategy is only the beginning.

The real challenge lies ahead:

  • Can Ghana build and sustain world-class AI infrastructure?
  • Can it develop and retain the talent required to power it?
  • Can it regulate effectively without stifling innovation?
  • Can it bring the private sector along as a true partner?

These questions will determine whether this moment becomes a milestone—or a missed opportunity.

A Moment That Must Define a Generation

Africa stands at a crossroads.

One path leads to continued dependence—where the continent consumes technologies it neither owns nor controls.

The other leads to sovereignty—where Africa builds, governs, and benefits from its own intelligent systems.

Ghana has chosen the latter.

Now the task is to ensure that choice is not isolated, but replicated, scaled, and sustained across the continent.

Because in the age of artificial intelligence, sovereignty will not be declared in speeches.

It will be built in systems.

About the author

George Spencer Quaye is the founder and Chief Executive Officer of MOBEX Africa. He is a governance and digital transformation strategist, public policy commentator and board-level leader. He writes on leadership, political reform and Africa’s development trajectory. He’s currently serving as the Chairman of the Governing Board of the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Authority.

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Opinion

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

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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

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Perspectives

Leased Sovereignty: Ghana, the EU, Ukraine and the Politics of Security Dependency

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In March 2026, Ghana became the first African nation to sign a Security and Defence Partnership (SDP) with the European Union, while simultaneously negotiating a Defence Cooperation Agreement (DCA) with Ukraine.

This strategicpolicy analysis report by the renowned security expertCol. Festus Aboagye (retd) examines both agreements, arguing that the central question is not whether Ghana should have signed them, the strategic logic is compelling, but whether Ghana has the institutional architecture to translate external partnerships into sovereign capability rather than structural dependency.

Col. Festus Aboagye (retd)

The report introduces the concept of “leased sovereignty” to describe a condition in which a state formally owns military capabilities but does not control them, because maintenance, software architecture, data infrastructure, and supply chains all remain with the provider.

Drawing on documentary analysis of primary official sources, secondary institutional research, and forthcoming primary research from a 15‑state African study on data sovereignty in third‑party defence grants, the analysis identifies five structural risks: interoperability fragmentation, border surveillance governance gaps, narrative incoherence between Ghana’s pan‑African moral leadership and its new EU security role, intelligence data sovereignty exposure, and supply‑chain fragility inherent in a technology relationship with a nation at active war.

The report concludes with a three‑horizon implementation roadmap sequencing the institutional, legal, and operational measures required to convert dependency into enduring national capability.

It argues that Ghana’s 2026 agreements are a test case for whether an African middle power can engage Global North security frameworks on its own terms—acquiring capability without conceding control, anchoring regional stability without subordinating sovereignty, and transforming a bilateral diplomatic achievement into a continental governance precedent.

Click here to access the full 24-page report.

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