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The Cocoa Conundrum: Why Ghana’s Farmers are Poor Despite Making the World’s Best Chocolate

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Ghana produces some of the world’s finest cocoa beans, yet the majority of its cocoa farmers remain trapped in poverty due to low farmgate prices, exploitative supply-chain structures, middlemen taking large margins, high input costs, climate change impacts, illegal mining (galamsey) destroying farms, and limited access to credit and modern farming techniques. This article by H. Aku Kwapong argues that while multinational chocolate companies earn billions from Ghanaian cocoa, farmers receive only a tiny fraction of the final retail value, calling for urgent reforms in pricing, local processing, cooperative models, and government intervention to ensure fairer wealth distribution along the cocoa value chain.


The cocoa conundrum: Why Ghana’s farmers are poor despite making the world’s best chocolate

Every so often, you come across an economic situation so perverse, so utterly divorced from basic market logic, that you have to wonder how it has survived for so long.

The case of Ghana’s cocoa sector is a textbook example. Here we have a country that produces some of the world’s finest cocoa—the essential ingredient for a multi-billion dollar global chocolate industry. Yet the smallholder farmers who are the bedrock of this industry remain trapped in extreme poverty, many earning less than a dollar a day. How can this be?

The answer, as is so often the case, lies in a toxic mix of well-intentioned but misguided policy, institutional sclerosis, and a fundamental misunderstanding of how markets actually work. For over seven decades, Ghana has operated a state-run monopoly, the Ghana Cocoa Board (COCOBOD), that controls every aspect of the industry from farm gate to export. The result is a classic case of monopsony power, a single buyer that can dictate prices to sellers. And when a single buyer dictates prices, the sellers inevitably get a raw deal.

When cocoa prices quadrupled on the world market in 2023-2025, reaching nearly $12,000 per metric ton, Ghanaian farmers should have seen a windfall. They didn’t. Because of COCOBOD’s byzantine system of forward contracts and price-fixing, they were locked into prices that bore no resemblance to market reality. The very system designed to protect them from volatility ended up shielding them from prosperity. It’s an economic tragedy, and it’s long past time to end it.

Ghana cocoa farmer. Trade for Development, via Flickr

This report is not an academic exercise. It is a call for a pragmatic, clear-eyed revolution in how Ghana manages its most important agricultural sector. It lays out a framework for dismantling a failed state monopoly and building a modern, competitive market in its place.

This isn’t about blind faith in laissez-faire economics—the history of commodity markets is littered with the victims of chaotic, unsupported liberalization. Instead, it’s about getting the institutions right, creating what I call a “meso-model” where a lean, effective government regulates a dynamic private sector. It’s about finally letting the market work for, not against, the people who make it possible.

1.The Economics of a Broken System
Let’s be clear about the diagnosis. Ghana’s cocoa problem isn’t a mystery; it’s a straightforward story of bad economics compounded by institutional inertia.

The current model, where COCOBOD acts as the sole buyer and seller of cocoa, is a relic of a bygone era of state-led development that most of the world has moved beyond. Its defenders will point to the premium quality of Ghanaian cocoa as justification for the system. And yes, the quality is good. But at what cost?

The Monopsony Trap
Here’s the fundamental problem: COCOBOD’s monopoly on purchasing cocoa from farmers means it faces no competition. Basic economics tells us what happens when a buyer has monopsony power – it can, and does, pay a price far below what a competitive market would deliver. Farmers in Ghana typically receive around 55% of the Free on Board (FOB) export price for their beans. Compare that to the 70-75% received by their counterparts in the more liberalized markets of Indonesia and Ecuador.

That 15-20 percentage point difference isn’t just a number on a spreadsheet. For a farming family, it’s the difference between a living income and grinding poverty. It’s the difference between being able to afford fertilizer and watching your trees succumb to disease. It’s the difference between sending your children to school and sending them to work in the fields.

And let’s be honest about what’s happening to that missing 40-45% of the export value. Some of it goes to legitimate costs – quality control, research, extension services. But a large chunk disappears into the maw of an inefficient, bloated bureaucracy that employs thousands of people and operates subsidiaries that would make a Soviet-era ministry proud.

The Illusion of Stability
The great promise of the COCOBOD system was price stability. By selling the crop forward on international markets, it was supposed to shield farmers from the notorious volatility of commodity prices. This sounds good in theory. In practice, it’s been a disaster.

The 2023-2025 price crisis exposed the fundamental flaw in this approach. When world cocoa prices exploded due to supply shortages in West Africa, the forward-selling system didn’t just fail to deliver the upside to farmers – it nearly bankrupted COCOBOD itself, which found itself on the wrong side of its own hedges. The institution recorded massive losses while farmers continued to receive their fixed, below-market prices.

This is the perverse logic of the current system: it privatizes the risks (which farmers bear through chronically low prices) and socializes the losses (which the state, and ultimately the taxpayer, has to cover). It’s heads the middlemen win, tails the farmers lose.

The Stagnation Effect
When you insulate an entire industry from market signals, you get stagnation. There is no incentive for innovation, no drive for efficiency, no pressure to improve. Why should a private company invest in better logistics or processing facilities if it can’t compete on price? Why should a farmer invest in higher quality beans or replant aging trees if they get paid the same as everyone else regardless of quality?

The result is an industry operating far below its potential. Production has collapsed from over 1 million tonnes in 2010/11 to just 654,000 tonnes in 2023 – a 14-year low. The tree stock is aging, with an estimated 40% of cocoa trees past their productive prime. The farming population itself is aging, with an average age over 50, as young people flee for better opportunities, including the destructive illegal gold mining (‘galamsey’) that is eating away at cocoa farmland.

This is what happens when you try to run an agricultural sector like a command economy. You get all the inefficiency of central planning with none of the dynamism of a market.

So the argument that we must choose between the chaos of a fully free market and the stagnation of a state monopoly is a false dichotomy. The real task is to design a system that combines the dynamism of competition with the stability of smart regulation. That’s what I mean by a “meso-model,” and that’s what the rest of this report is about.

2.Learning from Others: The Liberalization Spectrum
Before we dive into the specifics of reform, it’s worth looking at what has happened in other cocoa-producing countries that have experimented with different models. The evidence is actually quite instructive.

The Cautionary Tale of Full Liberalization
Nigeria liberalized its cocoa market in 1986, dismantling its marketing board and letting the market rip. The results were mixed at best. On the positive side, competition increased, more private traders entered the market, and farmers gained more options for selling their cocoa. Production initially increased as farmers responded to better price signals.

But there was a dark side. The abolition of the marketing board led to a collapse in quality control and extension services. Nigerian cocoa, once renowned for its quality, saw its reputation deteriorate as beans of varying quality flooded the market. Farmers lost access to credit and inputs that the marketing board had previously provided. And the market became dominated by a handful of large export firms, which used their oligopsony power to squeeze farmers.

The lesson here is clear: simply smashing the state monopoly and walking away is not a recipe for success. Markets need institutions to function properly.

The Ivorian Alternative
Côte d’Ivoire, the world’s largest cocoa producer, offers a more promising model. After its own chaotic liberalization in the 1990s, the country established a hybrid system built around the Conseil du Café-Cacao (CCC), a regulatory body that works in partnership with the private sector.

Here’s how it works: The CCC sets a guaranteed minimum price for farmers at the beginning of each season, providing a safety net against price crashes. But it also licenses private companies to compete in buying and exporting cocoa. These companies can offer bonuses above the minimum price for higher quality beans or faster payment. The result is a system that provides both stability and competition.

The Ivorian model isn’t perfect – it still involves significant state intervention, and there are concerns about corruption and the fiscal costs of the price guarantee. But it has managed to maintain quality standards while allowing for private sector dynamism. Production has grown steadily, and farmers receive a higher share of the export price than their Ghanaian counterparts.

What Ghana Can Learn
The lesson from this comparative analysis is straightforward: Ghana needs to move away from its current fully regulated model, but it should not leap to full liberalization. The optimal path is a middle ground – a “meso-model” that retains essential state functions (regulation, quality control, research) while introducing competition in commercial activities (buying, processing, exporting).

This is not a radical idea. It’s basically what most successful agricultural sectors around the world do. The government sets the rules and provides public goods; the private sector competes to deliver services and create value. It’s time Ghana joined the 21st century.

3.The Reform Framework: Eight Pillars for a New Dawn
So what does a sensible reform program look like? It rests on eight interconnected pillars, each addressing a specific dysfunction in the current system. Let me walk through them.

Pillar 1: Transforming COCOBOD from Monopolist to Regulator
The first and most critical step is to fundamentally restructure COCOBOD. The institution needs to go on a serious diet, shedding its commercial functions and focusing on the essential public goods that only government can provide.

What COCOBOD Should Keep:

•Quality Control: This is a genuine public good and a crucial national asset. Ghana’s reputation for premium cocoa is worth protecting, and a centralized quality control system is the best way to do it. The Quality Control Company (QCC) should remain under COCOBOD’s umbrella, ensuring that all exported cocoa meets high standards.


•Research and Development: The Cocoa Research Institute of Ghana (CRIG) has done valuable work developing high-yielding, disease-resistant varieties. This is exactly the kind of basic research that the private sector tends to under-invest in. CRIG should continue to receive public funding and should be encouraged to partner with universities and international research institutions.

•Regulation: Someone needs to set the rules for a competitive market – licensing buyers and exporters, monitoring for anti-competitive behavior, ensuring traceability and compliance with international standards. This is a core government function.

What COCOBOD Should Lose:

•Internal Marketing: The business of buying cocoa from farmers should be opened to competition among Licensed Buying Companies (LBCs), farmer cooperatives, and processing companies. Let them compete on price, payment terms, and services. The farmers will benefit.


•Input Supply: The procurement and distribution of fertilizers and pesticides should be handled by private agro-dealers. The current system of heavily subsidized inputs distributed through COCOBOD is costly, inefficient, and subject to political manipulation. A competitive market for inputs, perhaps supported by targeted vouchers for the poorest farmers, would work better.


•Export Marketing: The Cocoa Marketing Company (CMC), which currently has a monopoly on exports, should either be privatized or forced to compete with other licensed exporters. This would allow for more innovative marketing arrangements and better price discovery.

This transformation will not be easy. It will require significant downsizing and restructuring. COCOBOD currently employs thousands of people; a lean regulatory body would need far fewer. A comprehensive staff rationalization plan, including voluntary retirement schemes and retraining programs, will be essential. But the alternative is the slow-motion collapse of the entire institution, which helps no one.

Pillar 2: Creating Space for Private Enterprise
Once COCOBOD gets out of the way, private companies can step in to compete across the value chain. But they won’t do so unless the government creates an enabling environment. This means three things:

Regulatory Certainty: Investors need to know that the rules won’t change overnight. A clear, transparent, and stable regulatory framework is essential. This includes straightforward licensing procedures, well-defined quality standards, and consistent enforcement.

Infrastructure: You can’t build a competitive industry on crumbling roads and unreliable electricity. The government needs to invest in the basics – farm-to-market roads, port facilities, warehousing, and above all, reliable and affordable power. The fact that electricity costs in Ghana are nearly double those in Côte d’Ivoire is a major barrier to developing a domestic processing industry.

Targeted Incentives: To encourage investment in value addition – turning raw beans into cocoa liquor, butter, powder, and finished chocolate – the government should offer tax holidays, reduced import duties on processing equipment, and perhaps subsidized electricity for processing facilities. The goal is to move Ghana up the value chain, capturing more of the value that currently goes to processors in Europe and Asia.

The potential here is enormous. Ghana currently processes only about 23% of its cocoa production domestically, and existing facilities operate at less than 50% capacity. With the right policies, Ghana could become a major exporter of processed cocoa products and even build globally recognized chocolate brands. Companies like Fairafric are already showing what’s possible.

Pillar 3: Fixing the Price Mechanism
The current pricing system is, to put it bluntly, a joke. It’s opaque, it’s rigid, and it systematically underpays farmers. The Producer Price Review Committee (PPRC) sets a fixed price at the beginning of each season based on projections that often turn out to be wildly wrong. Farmers have no idea how the price is calculated, and they have no recourse if they think it’s unfair.

This needs to be replaced with a transparent, market-based system. There are several options:

Auction System: Cocoa could be sold through regular auctions where buyers bid competitively for lots. This ensures transparent price discovery and allows farmers to benefit directly from market prices. Ethiopia’s commodity exchange provides a successful model.

Commodity Exchange: The proposed Africa Commodity Exchange (AfCX) could provide a pan-African platform for trading cocoa, with prices determined by supply and demand.

Direct Contracts: Farmers and cooperatives could negotiate direct contracts with buyers, allowing for differentiated pricing based on quality, volume, and delivery terms.

Hybrid Model: My preferred option is a hybrid approach that combines a guaranteed minimum price (a floor) with market-based pricing above that level. This is similar to Côte d’Ivoire’s model. The floor provides security against price crashes, but farmers can earn more if they produce higher quality beans or if market conditions are favorable.

The key principle is simple: farmers should receive at least 70% of the FOB export price. This isn’t charity; it’s basic market efficiency. Farmers who are paid a fair price will invest in their farms, leading to higher production and better quality. Everyone wins.

Of course, a market-based system means price volatility. But there are sensible ways to manage this risk. A price stabilization fund can smooth out fluctuations by saving money in good years to support prices in bad years. Crop insurance can protect farmers from severe price drops. And over time, as farmers and cooperatives gain experience, they can use financial instruments like futures contracts to hedge their own risk.

Pillar 4: Building a Real Processing Industry
Here’s a shocking fact: Ghana captures only about 6.6% of the total value of its cocoa production. The rest – the vast majority—is captured by processors and manufacturers in

Europe, North America, and Asia. This is economic madness. Ghana is exporting raw materials and importing finished products, exactly the colonial pattern that developing countries are supposed to have moved beyond.

The solution is to dramatically expand domestic processing capacity. Ghana already has several major processing facilities, but they operate at less than 50% capacity because they can’t get enough beans. In the current system, COCOBOD’s forward sales contracts commit most of the crop to international buyers, leaving domestic processors scrambling for supply.

In a liberalized market, processors would be able to source beans directly from farmers. But during the transition, the government should guarantee that a certain percentage of production, say, 30-40%, is reserved for domestic processors at competitive prices. This would ensure that processors can operate at full capacity.

The barriers to processing are well-known: high energy costs, limited access to finance, and a shortage of skilled workers. Each of these can be addressed with targeted policies:

•Energy subsidies for processing facilities to offset Ghana’s high electricity costs.
•Tax incentives, including corporate tax holidays and duty-free imports of processing equipment.
•Dedicated financing facilities, perhaps through a Cocoa Development Bank, to provide long-term, affordable credit.
•Skills development programs in partnership with technical universities and international training institutions.

Beyond semi-processed products, Ghana should aim to build its own chocolate manufacturing industry and develop globally recognized Ghanaian chocolate brands. The market for premium, single-origin, ethically sourced chocolate is growing rapidly. Ghanaian brands can capitalize on the country’s reputation for quality, its sustainability credentials, and its unique cultural heritage. With the right support, “Made in Ghana” chocolate could become a premium product on the world market.

Pillar 5: Empowering Farmers Through Cooperatives and Land Reform
Individual smallholder farmers have essentially no bargaining power when facing large buyers. This is why strong, well-organized farmer cooperatives are essential. Cooperatives can negotiate collectively, secure better prices, access credit, and provide services to their members.

Ghana has a history of farmer cooperatives, including the well-known Kuapa Kokoo, a Fairtrade cooperative with over 100,000 members. But many cooperatives suffer from weak governance, poor financial management, and limited capacity. They need support, training in governance and financial management, access to credit, and a clear legal framework that protects their rights.

In a liberalized market, cooperatives should be able to negotiate directly with buyers and processors on behalf of their members. This collective bargaining power is the best defense against exploitation.

But there’s an even more fundamental issue: land tenure. Many cocoa farmers in Ghana don’t have secure title to the land they farm. Under the traditional Customary Land Tenure System, they have only usufruct rights – the right to use the land but not to own it. This creates a massive disincentive to long-term investment.

Why would you cut down old, unproductive trees and replant if you’re not sure you’ll still have the land in five years when the new trees start producing? Why would you invest in soil improvement or irrigation if you could lose the land at any time? And without formal title, you can’t use your land as collateral for a loan.

This is a politically sensitive issue, involving traditional authorities and complex customary law. But it must be addressed. Options include formalizing long-term leases, providing legal protections for farmers who replant, and gradually introducing formal land titling in cocoa- growing regions. Women farmers, who often have even more insecure land rights than men, need special attention.

Pillar 6: Leveraging Technology
We live in the 21st century, but much of Ghana’s cocoa sector operates as if it’s still the 20th. Technology can change this, and it doesn’t require massive investments in fancy equipment. Simple, accessible technologies can make a huge difference.

Mobile Payments: Ghana already has widespread mobile money platforms like MTN Mobile Money. Extending these to cocoa payments would mean farmers get paid immediately upon delivery, with a digital record that reduces disputes and fraud. It would also give farmers access to savings and credit products linked to their mobile wallets.

Digital Extension Services: Mobile apps and SMS platforms can deliver timely advice on weather, pest control, best practices, and market prices. The Cocoa Link program has already demonstrated the potential of this approach.

Traceability Systems: The EU Deforestation Regulation now requires full traceability of cocoa imports. Digital systems using GPS mapping and mobile data collection can help Ghanaian farmers comply with these requirements and access premium markets. This isn’t optional anymore; it’s a necessity.

And here’s the thing: attracting young people back to cocoa farming requires making it less of a backbreaking, low-tech drudgery and more of a modern, tech-enabled business. Higher incomes are part of the answer, but so is modernization.

Pillar 7: Building the Regulatory Architecture
A liberalized market needs a strong regulatory framework. The current system, where COCOBOD is both player and referee, is fundamentally flawed. Ghana needs an independent Cocoa Regulatory Authority (CRA) that is separate from COCOBOD and reports to Parliament rather than to a government ministry.

The CRA’s job would be to:

•License buyers, processors, and exporters.
•Set and enforce quality standards.
•Monitor the market for anti-competitive behavior.
•Resolve disputes between farmers and buyers.
•Oversee traceability and compliance with international regulations.

Ghana also needs to strengthen its competition law and apply it rigorously to the cocoa sector to prevent price-fixing and market manipulation. And it needs a clear legal framework for contracts, with fast-track arbitration and mediation services for disputes.

The goal is to create a level playing field where companies compete on efficiency and service, not on political connections or market manipulation.

Pillar 8: Financing the Transition
For decades, Ghana’s cocoa sector has been financed through an annual syndicated loan arranged by COCOBOD, typically in the range of $1.5-2 billion. This model is no longer sustainable. The cost of the loan has risen sharply, and COCOBOD has struggled to service its debt.

A liberalized sector needs a diversified financing ecosystem:

•Commercial bank lending to LBCs, processors, and farmer cooperatives.
•Warehouse receipt financing, which allows farmers to use stored cocoa as collateral for loans.
•Supply chain finance, where buyers provide advance payments to farmers in exchange for guaranteed supply.
•Microfinance and impact investing for small farmers and businesses.
•A Cocoa Development Bank to provide long-term, affordable credit for the sector.

The Ghana Stock Exchange could also play a role, with large processors and LBCs listing to raise equity capital, and cocoa-backed bonds to finance infrastructure.

The key is to move away from the current model where the entire sector depends on a single, increasingly expensive loan, and toward a system where financing flows from multiple sources based on commercial viability.

4.The Politics of Reform: Why This Is Hard (But Necessary)
Let me be blunt: the economics of cocoa reform are straightforward. The path to a more prosperous and competitive sector is clear. The real challenge, as always, is politics.

Any serious reform will threaten entrenched interests that benefit from the current system. COCOBOD employs thousands of people, many of whom will resist downsizing. The current system creates opportunities for rent-seeking and corruption that will be harder to maintain in a competitive market. And there’s a genuine, if misguided, ideological attachment to the idea of state control among some policymakers.

There will be resistance. There will be scare stories about how liberalization will lead to chaos and exploitation. There will be warnings that Ghana will lose its quality premium. These arguments need to be confronted head-on with evidence and clear communication.

This is why the transition must be carefully managed, with a clear roadmap, strong governance, and constant engagement with all stakeholders. A “big bang” approach is likely to fail, as Nigeria’s experience shows. A phased, 5-10 year transition, with clear milestones and measurable targets, is the only realistic way forward.

Phase 1 (Years 1-2): Establish the legal framework, launch pilot programs in selected regions, begin COCOBOD restructuring.

Phase 2 (Years 3-5): Roll out liberalized internal marketing nationwide, operationalize the CRA, introduce market-linked pricing, implement processing incentives.

Phase 3 (Years 6-10): Complete export liberalization, finish COCOBOD transformation, achieve 70% farmer share target, reach 40% domestic processing target.

Success will require political courage and long-term vision. It will require resisting the temptation to backslide when things get difficult. And it will require constant monitoring and adjustment, because no reform plan survives first contact with reality unchanged.

But the alternative is to continue presiding over a system that is failing its farmers, failing the nation, and slowly collapsing under the weight of its own contradictions. The choice is stark, but it is also clear.

5.Conclusion: The Case for Optimism
I am, by temperament and training, a skeptic. I’ve seen too many grand reform plans fail, too many well-intentioned policies produce perverse outcomes. But I’m also an economist, and I believe that when you get the incentives right, when you build the right institutions, good things can happen.

Ghana’s cocoa sector is broken, but it’s not beyond repair. The country has enormous advantages: a reputation for quality, a large and experienced farming population, existing

processing infrastructure, and a strategic location. What it lacks is a sensible institutional framework that allows these advantages to be fully realized.

The reform framework laid out in this report is not utopian. It’s pragmatic, evidence-based, and grounded in the real-world experiences of other countries. It doesn’t require Ghana to become something it’s not; it requires Ghana to become a better version of itself.

If implemented with determination and skill, these reforms could transform Ghana’s cocoa sector from a struggling commodity exporter into a globally competitive industrial powerhouse. Farmers could earn a decent living. Young people could see a future in agriculture. Ghana could capture more of the value from its most important export crop.

This is not just about cocoa. It’s about whether Ghana can build the kind of modern, market- based institutions that are essential for sustained economic development. It’s about whether the country can move beyond the legacy of colonialism and state-led development to create a system that works for its people.

The time for a new dawn for Ghana’s cocoa is now. The question is whether Ghana’s leaders are ready to seize it.


By: H. Aku Kwapong Hene Aku Kwapong can be reached on oak@songhai.com.  He is a founder of The Songhai Group and NBOSI (National Blue Ocean Strategy Institute). He formerly worked with GE Capital, Deutsche Bank and Royal Bank of Scotland and had been a Senior Vice President at the New York City Economic Development Corporation.


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Opinion

Sahel on fire: Why Ghana and ECOWAS cannot ignore the collapse of the AES

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When military juntas seized power in Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger between 2020 and 2023, they promised sovereignty, security, and national dignity. Several years on, the evidence tells a brutal story. Large portions of the Sahel remain outside state control, with jihadist groups like JNIM and Islamic State affiliates growing more sophisticated and operationally bolder. In this urgent analysis, security researcher Joseph McCarthy argues that West Africa’s future stability depends on rebuilding states that citizens trust, economies that create opportunity, and regionally coordinated security architecture, because the Sahel’s collapse cannot be treated as someone else’s problem.

Read the full analysis below:

Sahel on fire: Why Ghana and ECOWAS cannot ignore the collapse of the AES

When soldiers seized power in Bamako in 2020, Ouagadougou in 2022, and Niamey in 2023, they offered a familiar promise: civilian governments had failed, foreign partnerships had grown corrupt, and only military rule could restore sovereignty, security, and national dignity.

Across the Sahel, millions exhausted by years of insecurity and perceived foreign condescension believed them.

Several years on, the evidence tells a brutal and irrefutable story.

The security situation across Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, the three countries that form the self-styled Alliance of Sahel States (AES), now reveals something the juntas can no longer paper over with slogans.

Large portions of northern and eastern Burkina Faso are either under jihadist influence or violently contested.

In Mali, the regions of Taoudéni, Timbuktu, Ménaka, Gao, and much of Mopti remain outside effective state authority.

Niger retains a stronger foothold around Niamey and Maradi, but insecurity is steadily creeping into Diffa, Tahoua, and Agadez.

The trajectory across all three countries is identical: state presence is shrinking; militant mobility corridors are expanding southward.

The April 2026 coordinated attacks across Mali, striking Mopti, Gao, Kidal, Sévaré, and approach routes to Bamako simultaneously, confirmed what conflict monitors at ACLED and the Critical Threats Project had been documenting for months. Jama’at Nusrat al-Islam wal-Muslimin (JNIM) and Islamic State affiliates are not retreating.

They are growing more sophisticated, more coordinated, and operationally bolder.

When insurgents can strike urban and semi-urban centres, spaces that house military headquarters, administrative institutions, and strategic infrastructure, with precision and impunity, military presence alone has clearly ceased to guarantee territorial control.
The core problem is structural.

Terrorism in the Sahel has never been purely a military challenge.

Extremist organisations thrive where governance collapses, public trust erodes, and economic opportunities evaporate.

Governments may announce the destruction of militant camps or the recapture of towns.

But if corruption, unemployment, food insecurity, and local grievances go unresolved, recruitment resumes elsewhere.

The cycle continues.

Military-led governments are structurally ill-equipped to break that cycle.

Officers trained for battlefield command are now expected to manage fragile economies, attract investment, regulate inflation, and deliver social services.

Predictably, all three juntas have addressed profoundly complex national crises almost entirely through a security lens.

The consequences are visible: authority in Burkina Faso barely extends beyond Ouagadougou and a few southern towns; Bamako’s security perimeter has reportedly contracted; central Mali remains an unresolved warzone.

Meanwhile, judicial independence weakens, civil society operates under pressure, media freedoms narrow, and decision-making grows opaque and personalised. Investor confidence has collapsed. Trade routes have frayed.

The result is a self-reinforcing cycle: insecurity discourages investment, weak development fuels grievance, grievance powers recruitment, and governments respond with yet more militarisation.

The junta compounded this failure with a catastrophic strategic miscalculation: they dismantled every cooperative framework that had previously helped contain extremist expansion. MINUSMA was expelled.

French military operations ended. American intelligence and surveillance assets withdrew.

EU training missions deteriorated or closed. ECOWAS security cooperation collapsed.

In their place came Russian-linked security actors, first the Wagner Group, then the Africa Corps. This shift has not produced decisive results.

Western and multilateral partners had provided drone surveillance, aerial logistics, rapid evacuation support, command training, and multinational operational coordination.

Russia’s deployment has remained narrower, more militarised, and heavily oriented around regime protection rather than population security.
The fall of Kidal said everything.

Once showcased as proof that expelling Western forces and embracing Moscow represented strategic genius, Kidal instead exposed the new model’s core vulnerability.

When Russian-linked personnel reportedly withdrew as Malian forces came under attack, it shattered years of carefully cultivated political messaging.

Facts eventually overpower slogans, and those facts are now arriving at a pace.

The consequences no longer stop at the AES border.

The Sahel has become a sanctuary where extremist organisations regroup, recruit, train, and launch operations southward into coastal West Africa. Benin has already suffered deadly attacks near Pendjari National Park.

Côte d’Ivoire endured the Grand-Bassam massacre and continues fortifying its northern frontier.

Togo has seen infiltration pressure mount. Ghana, which has not yet experienced large-scale jihadist violence, is not insulated from what is coming.

The expansion of JNIM and IS-affiliated operations into southern Burkina Faso has intensified arms trafficking, infiltration networks, and radicalisation risks along Ghana’s northern border.

The Bawku conflict, rooted in ethnic and chieftaincy tensions, presents precisely the kind of local instability that extremist organisations have exploited elsewhere to gain a foothold.

Ghanaian security agencies have responded with Operation Conquered Fist, expanded border surveillance, joint intelligence operations, and counter-extremism programmes, all reflecting a growing, sober recognition that this crisis is no longer distant. It is at the door.

The lesson the Sahel has taught, at enormous human cost, is clear: no country defeats a transnational insurgency through isolationist nationalism or militarised governance alone. Security and development are inseparable.

Roads, schools, healthcare, agriculture, jobs, and functioning local governance are as essential to counterterrorism as soldiers and weapons. Where states are absent, extremists fill the space.

West Africa’s future security architecture must be African-led, regionally coordinated, and built on genuine interoperability: shared intelligence, joint border operations, and integrated economic resilience.

External partnerships have a role, but one that strengthens African institutional capacity rather than substituting for it.

Sustainable security cannot be outsourced to mercenaries or purchased through battlefield operations alone.

Ghana and the wider ECOWAS community cannot afford to treat the Sahel as someone else’s problem.

The region’s long-term stability will depend on building states that citizens trust, economies that create opportunity, and institutions capable of collective action.

The AES experience has shown, at devastating cost, what happens when those foundations are abandoned.

West Africa cannot afford to learn that lesson twice.


About the author:

Joseph McCarthy is an analyst and researcher specialising in governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, development, and African diplomacy. Email: joecarthy30@gmail.com

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Opinion

Magical Realpolitik: Two kinds of facts wrestle for the soul of Realism

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In this incisive essay, renowned policy analyst Bright Simons introduces the concept of “magical realpolitik” to describe a growing dysfunction in contemporary foreign policy: the inability of strategic thinkers to integrate two competing species of fact. The first, “expert-mediated facts,” emerge from structured inquiry, peer review, and institutional memory (e.g., Robert Pape’s finding that strategic bombing has never toppled a regime on its own).

The second, “facts on the ground,” are perceptual, observable realities accessible to anyone with eyes and a map (e.g., the Strait of Hormuz is closed to shipping; Russia occupies parts of eastern Ukraine). Drawing on historical and contemporary cases—from the 1988 U.S. Navy’s Operation Praying Mantis that reopened the strait, to Iran’s IRGC proxy strategy, Netanyahu’s Gaza operations, Trumpian populist realism, and even John Mearsheimer’s Ukraine analysis—Simons argues that populist realists, authoritarian ideologues, territorial maximalists, and liberal internationalists alike selectively embrace one factual register while willfully ignoring the other.

The result is “enchantment”: a trance-like confidence that the world will behave as one’s preferred category of evidence predicts, even when the other category is screaming otherwise. Simons concludes that genuine strategic competence requires holding both factual categories in tension, resisting the urge to resolve contradictions prematurely, recovering granular historical knowledge that resists tidy narratives, and accepting that realism itself is no longer a stable paradigm but a question: which world, and whose facts?

Read the full article below.

Magical Realpolitik: Two kinds of facts wrestle for the soul of Realism

In the spring of 1988, Iran’s Revolutionary Guard (IRGC) began laying mines across the shipping lanes of the Persian Gulf. The Ayatollah’s navy had spent months dissuading tanker traffic from the Strait of Hormuz, and Washington responded with the largest convoy operation since the Second World War. Within a year, the American navy had sunk or crippled half the Iranian surface fleet in a single afternoon’s engagement – Operation Praying Mantis – and Tehran was forced to accept a ceasefire it had rejected for eight years. The strait reopened. Oil flowed. The episode was filed away as a footnote to the Iran-Iraq War and largely forgotten except among history buffs.

Thirty-eight years later, the strait is closed again. And the overwhelming majority of Western strategists, including those who lived through the 1980s tanker war, write and speak as though Iran’s capacity to choke the world’s most important oil chokepoint were some unprecedented riddle rather than a recurring test of naval power with a well-documented resolution. This forgetting is deeper than it looks. It reveals something about how facts travel – and fail to travel – through the cogs of foreign policy.

This essay proposes a framework for that phenomenon: magical realpolitik. I summarise it as the rubric in which practitioners of hard-nosed, interest-based statecraft increasingly evade a coherent factual foundation to entangle with two frequently hostile species of fact, each obeying its own logic and each capable of overriding the other at unpredictable intervals. Rather than enlightenment through friction, the result is often enchantment: a trance-like confidence that the world will behave as one’s preferred category of evidence predicts, even when the other category is screaming otherwise.

About Two Facts

Realism, as Fukuyama noted in his celebrated critique, begins from a simple and powerful premise: the world should be engaged as it is, not as we wish it to be. For this insight Kissinger was canonised by his admirers. Hans Morgenthau, channelling his inner Machiavelli, would build whole curricula. Every foreign-policy professional educated since 1945 has absorbed some version of it. The trouble is that “the world as it is” contains two quite different kinds of raw material, and realism has never adequately reckoned with the tension between them.

The first kind of fact is what we might call expert-mediated fact, facts as they congeal in the minds of sages. Think of them as the product of structured inquiry, peer review, institutional memory, and the slow accumulation of case studies. Robert Pape’s finding that strategic bombing has never toppled an entrenched regime on its own is an sagely fact. So is the democratic peace thesis. So is the well-attested pattern, documented by Barbara Geddes and her collaborators, that personalist dictatorships are more brittle than party-based ones but also more reckless in their final phase. Such facts draw breath from journals, and flourish in seminar rooms, and in the briefing memoranda that policy planners circulate before principals’ meetings. They carry the weight of evidence which is not the exact same thing as the weight of experience.

The second kind of fact is what I call a fact on the ground, workaday or commonplace things visible at the perceptual level, accessible to anyone with eyes and a map. The Strait of Hormuz is closed to most shipping traffic: that is a fact on the ground. Russia occupies parts of eastern Ukraine: fact on the ground. China has built artificial islands in the South China Sea and garrisoned them with anti-ship missiles: fact on the ground. These facts do not require the tutelage of sages. They require attention.

Both species of fact claim residence in the house of realism. Both are, in principle, about the world as it is. But they can pull in opposite directions, and with surprising regularity, because they answer different questions. Sagely facts usually tell you what tends to happen – the regularities, the probabilistic patterns, and the structural constraints. Facts on the ground tell you what has already happened. The specific configuration of power, geography, and committed action at this moment, say.

Of Populist Realists and Establishment Realists

The analytical payoff of this distinction emerges when you watch it operate inside actual strategic behaviour. Consider the current American administration. The MAGA foreign-policy apparatus, as Rebecca Lissner of the Council on Foreign Relations has observed, presents itself as a new kind of illiberal superpower. Realist in posture, and civilisational in self-conception. Its instincts run overwhelmingly toward facts on the ground. The Iranian nuclear programme was bombed: that is a fact on the ground, and it is treated as a solution. Houthis are still launching missiles at commercial shipping? Fact on the ground, treated as an insult requiring kinetic response. The border with Mexico is crossable: fact on the ground, demanding a wall.

People like to say that MAGA are totally anti-factual. That is not entirely true. They do care about facts-on-the-ground, hence the constant effort to influence perceptions of them.

What the MAGA apparatus treats with far greater suspicion is the sagely layer. The proposition that air campaigns do not produce regime change – a finding supported by every major empirical study from Pape onward – is precisely the sort of expert-cultivated fact that the populist realist finds suspect, open to challenge. It introduces constraint where the ground-level observer sees opportunity. Pape’s data set covers over a century of cases. The populist realist would rather trust the smoking rubble of a specific compound in Tehran.

The same selective factual metabolism operates among Iran’s clerical-security elite. The IRGC’s proxy architecture – Hezbollah, Hamas, the Houthis, and the Iraqi Popular Mobilisation Forces, for instance – was a masterclass in facts-on-the-ground statecraft. It said: build physical presence, arm local allies, establish territorial corridors, and create the irreversible. Tehran’s strategic planners understood leverage in the most tactile sense. They placed men with weapons in places where their removal would be costly.

Benjamin Netanyahu’s Israel exhibits a structurally identical pattern. Since October 2023, Israeli military operations have expanded across Gaza, southern Lebanon, and Syrian territory with relentless tactical vigour. Each operation creates new facts on the ground: buffer zones, military outposts, and the detritus of demolished infrastructure. Former senior Israeli security officials have described Netanyahu’s approach as tactical politics masquerading as strategy. But the ground-level facts speak for themselves: Hamas battalions degraded, Hezbollah’s leadership decapitated, and Syrian military infrastructure obliterated.

Yet sagely evidence on counterinsurgency – from Algeria through Vietnam to Iraq – consistently shows that military dominance over a hostile population without a political settlement underproduces pacification and inflame perpetual insurgency. US intelligence assessments have projected years of continued resistance from Hamas regardless of how many battalions are destroyed, because the armed movement is sustained by conditions that military force alone cannot alter.

There is no sign nonetheless that Netanyahu’s coalition partners will cave in to such purported wisdom. Many in that camp perceive it as the prejudices of a liberal international order they have already rejected. They point to the real ablation of ISIS, its smoking ruins, regardless how potent its remnants may be. The facts on the ground are dazzling. The facts in the research are devastating. But one can still pick and choose.

Choices, however, have costs. Iran’s planners proved spectacularly vulnerable to the sagely fact that ideological movements built on external threat rarely survive the domestication of that threat. The Islamic Republic’s founding legitimacy rested on anti-Americanism and anti-imperialism. When Joseph Nye described soft power as the ability to attract rather than coerce, he was articulating the mechanism by which values – more than, say, weapons – reshape the preferences of populations over time. The clerical establishment spent four decades insisting that its revolutionary values were magnetically attractive. The January 2026 protests, with five million people in the streets chanting for the return of the Pahlavi monarchy, were sagely fact made flesh: ideological legitimacy is a depreciating asset, and no quantity of IRGC ground presence in Lebanon can compensate for its evaporation at home.

Enter Enchantment

Here is where the magical enters the realpolitik. The Trumpian administration, the clerical-IRGC apparatus, and the Netanyahu coalition all demonstrate a phenomenon that purely rationalist accounts of foreign policy cannot explain: the willing, eyes-open refusal to integrate one species of fact with the other, even when the cost of refusal becomes critical.

The enchantment works differently in each case, but the underlying structure is identical. For the populist realist, sagely facts carry the odour of the establishment – the class of professionals, academics, and career diplomats whose authority the populist project exists to displace. When the RAND Corporation publishes a study showing that maximum-pressure sanctions campaigns against authoritarian regimes rarely produce regime change and often entrench the incumbents, the populist realist does not engage the evidence. He looks right past the messenger. The sage is marginalised for belonging to the old order, the one that lost Iraq and bungled Libya and let China into the WTO. The contingent accuracy of a particular research finding must be subordinated to the stolid fact – the ground-level, perceptual, emotionally vivid fact – that his class failed in such-and-such real time and place.

For the clerical-security realist in Tehran, the enchantment runs in the other direction but with structurally similar results. The IRGC’s strategic culture is built on a theory of civilisational destiny – the Shia revolutionary state as the vanguard of resistance to Western hegemony. When facts on the ground contradict this narrative – when the Syrian corridor collapses, when Hezbollah’s leadership is decapitated, or when Iranian cities erupt in monarchist slogans – the clerical establishment does not update the theory. It doubles down, because the theory is the institution. To abandon the narrative of revolutionary destiny would be to dissolve the very basis on which the Supreme Leader’s authority rests. For Netanyahu, the enchantment takes yet another form: a theology of territorial maximalism inherited from Revisionist Zionism’s most acute interpreters, in which every military gain confirms providential destiny and every call for political settlement is read as weakness. The sagely consensus – that promoting new occupations without broad-based legitimacy erodes the occupier – simply bounces off this armour.

Perhaps the most instructive case, however, belongs to an establishment realist rather than a populist one. John Mearsheimer, the University of Chicago’s most prominent offensive realist, argued from 2014 onward that NATO expansion was the “taproot” of the Ukraine crisis and that the West bore principal responsibility for provoking Russia’s invasion. This was a textbook exercise in expert-cultivated factual reasoning: structural realism predicts that great powers will resist encroachment on their spheres of influence, therefore Russia’s behaviour was rational and foreseeable. The theory was internally coherent and Mearsheimer’s stature lent it considerable authority. The difficulty was that his framework systematically screened out an accumulating pile of ground-level facts. As the New Statesman’s analysts observed, there had been no groundswell of Ukrainian support for NATO membership before Russia annexed Crimea in 2014; Finland, with its 1,340-kilometre Russian border, joined NATO in 2023 without provoking invasion; and Putin’s own rhetoric – denying Ukraine’s existence as a nation and comparing himself to Peter the Great – pointed to imperial motivations that structural realism’s billiard-ball model cannot accommodate. Mearsheimer’s enchantment was the mirror image of the populist’s: where the MAGA realist rejects expert findings because they constrain ground-level ambition, the academic realist rejected ground-level evidence because it complicated an elegant theory. Both achieved the same result: a selective factual metabolism that felt rigorous and was, in practice, blind in one eye.

Fukuyama captured something adjacent to this dynamic in The End of History, where he observed that virtually everyone professionally engaged in the study of politics had believed in the permanence of communism, and that its worldwide collapse was almost totally unanticipated. The failure, he noted, cut across the political spectrum. That universality is the hallmark of magical realpolitik. Factual enchantment transcends partisanship. In my own country of Ghana, I dubbed a variant of the phenomenon State Enchantment for this very cross-partisan character. This structural spectrality. It afflicts whichever faction has allowed one species of fact to colonise the space that should be occupied by both.

A Liberal Blind Spot

To be fair to the populists, the authoritarians, and the territorial maximalists, their liberal-internationalist counterparts are hardly immune. The liberal establishment’s characteristic error is the mirror image: an overextension of expert-cultivated sagely facts at the expense of ground-level realities that ought to be blindingly obvious.

Consider the persistent failure of Western strategic commentary to remember that Iran has already tried to close the Strait of Hormuz and was physically dislodged by American naval power. The tanker war of 1987 – 88 is not classified information. It is taught in war colleges. And yet the analytical class repeatedly treats Hormuz closures as though they were entering uncharted territory, when the historical precedent points unambiguously to a specific resolution: concentrated naval force, applied with political will, historically reopens the strait. America’s slimming fleet size (from nearly 1250 in 1946 to less than 300 today) and overreliance on its technology edge is the real bottleneck here. Not to talk about the Navy’s failure to maintain its minesweepers. The expert-mediated overlay – game-theoretic models of escalation, scenario analyses of Chinese and Russian responses, elaborate calculations of oil-market elasticity, etc. – buries the ground-level precedent under layers of contingent complexity until the simple poignant ground-fact disappears.

Or consider the 1953 Iranian coup. The standard liberal-internationalist reading treats the CIA-sponsored overthrow of Mossadegh as the original sin of American policy in Iran, and the clerical revolution of 1979 as its karmic consequence. This reading is politically elegant. It is also, at the policy level, an extraordinary compression of contradictory ground-level facts. Ayatollah Kashani, the most powerful cleric in the Mossadegh coalition, was actively undermining Mossadegh’s secular-nationalist programme months before the coup. US Embassy cables from 1952 document Kashani sabotaging National Front candidates in the 17th Majlis elections. The Iran Party warned publicly that the country faced a dual threat: military dictatorship and the rule of the clergy. The clerics were neither Mossadegh’s loyal partners betrayed by the West or the mere exploiters of a nationalist-ideological vacuum created by the coup. They were rivals with a longrunning program independent of western imperialism. And the 1979 revolution – far from being the fulfilment of Mossadegh’s programme – was in important respects its antithesis: theocratic where Mossadegh was constitutional, clerical where he was secular, and authoritarian where he was parliamentary.

The sagely narrative flattened all of this into a seamless story of Western interference and indigenous resistance, producing an analytical tradition that, for over forty years, systematically underestimated the depth of the clerical-secular fault line within Iranian politics. When that fault line cracked open in January 2026, with millions chanting for a return to the pre-revolutionary order, too many analysts were caught unprepared. Because despite extensive factual granularity, the preferred theories had long since overwhelmed the ground-level detail.

Hence a Dialectical Trap

Magical realpolitik as a doctrine then is not confined to any single faction per se. It is a condition that emerges when the foreign-policy establishment fractures along factual lines – when the sagely class and the ground-level practitioners stop speaking the same evidentiary language and begin treating each other’s facts as noise.

A dialectical quality attends the fracture. The more the liberal establishment insisted on the primacy of expert-cultivated knowledge – multilateral institutions, norms-based order, and democratic peace etc – the more it alienated populations and practitioners who experienced international politics primarily through facts on the ground: lost manufacturing jobs, unchecked migration flows, and wars that experts promised would be short and proved interminable. The populist reaction, in turn, overcorrected: it elevated ground-level perception to the status of gospel and dismissed institutional knowledge as captured, corrupt, and irrelevant. What I call the “age of proteus” ensued. The result is not entirely a new realism. It is, instead, a new kaleidoscope of enchantments wearing realism’s clothes.

The Iranian variant follows a parallel trajectory. The revolution’s founding generation understood, at a functional level, the need to integrate theological vision with operational pragmatism – Khomeini made coldly rational calculations about the ceasefire with Iraq in 1988, comparing it to drinking poison but drinking it anyway. His successors, cocooned by decades of ideological consolidation and a suppressed policy feedback loop, have lost that integrative capacity. The Israeli trajectory runs in parallel: a security establishment that once prided itself on cold-eyed assessment – the tradition of conceptzia, the standing intelligence estimate, etc. – has been progressively captured by a political leadership whose ideological commitments override the intelligence product. The October 7 intelligence failure was more sinister than an aberration; it was the system reacting to known allergens, with inconvenient expert assessments sidelined in favour of a politically convenient ground-level picture. That Hamas had been contained, the Palestinian issue managed, and the Abraham Accords ascendant.

Analysts must embrace both factual categories and more

For the international political economy analyst, the strategist, and the policy adviser, the implications of magical realpolitik have practical consequences beyond philosophical exploration.

The first implication is epistemic discipline. Every significant strategic assessment should be explicitly stress-tested against both species of fact. What does the expert-mediated evidence say about the likely trajectory of this situation? And what do the observable, ground-level configurations of power, geography, and committed resources actually look like right now? But the sweet spot is in the tensional zone. Where the two conflict, the analyst’s job is to sit with the conflict rather than resolve it prematurely through theoretical fiat. The tanker war precedent and the Pape bombing data point in opposite directions regarding Iran: naval force can reopen a strait, but air power cannot topple a regime. Both are true. The competent analyst holds both simultaneously and designs for the resulting uncertainty.

The second implication is narrative scepticism. Wherever a foreign-policy programme presents itself as a seamless unity – whether “resistance” in Tehran, “America First” in Washington, “rules-based order” in Brussels, or “total victory” in Jerusalem – the analyst should look for the seams. The IRGC’s economic empire benefits structurally from the continuation of sanctions. The MAGA coalition’s tariff architecture conflicts with its energy-dominance ambitions. Netanyahu’s refusal to define an endgame in Gaza reflects something other than strategic patience. It is mostly about the the structural impossibility of satisfying his coalition’s theological maximalism and his military’s operational realism simultaneously. These fractures are the fuel of analysis.

The third implication is historical recovery. Magical realpolitik thrives on amnesia. The populist realist forgets the expert findings that would constrain his ambitions. The liberal internationalist forgets the ground-level precedents that would discipline her theories. The authoritarian ideologue forgets the internal contradictions that preceded his regime’s consolidation. And the academic realist, as Mearsheimer’s Ukraine commentary illustrates, forgets the ground-level evidence that would destabilise his model. The antidote is granular, unflattering, specific historical knowledge. The kind that resists compression into tidy narratives. The analyst who knows that Kashani betrayed Mossadegh, that the Shah completed oil nationalisation in 1973 with policy and political deftness that Mossadegh couldn’t muster, that Iran was forcibly ejected from the Strait of Hormuz in 1988, that the IRGC profits from the sanctions it publicly denounces, and that Israeli intelligence warned of Hamas’s capabilities before the political leadership chose to look away, possesses a factual toolkit that no amount of theoretical elegance can substitute. They rule the sky of clarity and the ground of consequence.

The fourth implication, and perhaps the most uncomfortable, is accepting that realpolitik itself is not a stable paradigm. The tradition that runs from Machiavelli through Metternich to Kissinger assumed a unitary factual world in which hard-headed observation could, with sufficient rigour, yield reliable strategic guidance. That assumption was always somewhat heroic. In a world where facts themselves have fractured into competing epistemic registers – where the expert and the practitioner, the data set and the satellite image, the historical pattern and the breaking headline, inhabit different cognitive ecologies and serve different institutional masters – the realist claim to privilege “the world as it is” becomes a question rather than an answer. Which world? Whose facts?

Magical realpolitik makes fantastic claims of resolving the question. The savvy strategist and analyst resists that enchantment, fact by fact.


Bright Simons is a Ghanaian technologist, social innovator, entrepreneur, writer, social and political commentator. He is the vice-president, in charge of research at IMANI Centre for Policy and Education. He is also the founder and president of mPedigree.

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Trained but Unemployed: Ghana’s Teacher Paradox Puts a Generation in Limbo

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Ghana is facing a paradoxical crisis in its education sector: the government continues to train tens of thousands of new teachers each year at taxpayer expense, yet it cannot employ them.

According to this opinion article by journalist Felix Anim-Appau, while 40,000 trained and licensed teachers applied for postings in 2026, the Ministry of Finance approved only 7,000 positions. This leaves 33,000 qualified teachers unemployed. The shortage in classrooms is severe, with an estimated 30,000 schools lacking teachers, yet bureaucratic hurdles, delayed financial clearances, and poor remuneration prevent recruitment.

The author criticizes the continued payment of GH¢207 million annually in teacher trainee allowances—a policy originally introduced in the 1960s to incentivize enrollment when teaching was unpopular. Now that demand for teacher training has surged, the author argues these funds could instead employ roughly 5,000 new teachers each year. The piece concludes that political parties maintain popular but costly allowances to win votes, while Ghana’s basic education system suffers from overcrowded classrooms, overworked teachers, and declining quality. Read the full article below.


The teacher trainees posting conundrum: Why are we training more teachers when we can’t employ them?

I went for a wedding in Kumasi few weekends ago. I left on Thursday night and arrived at Friday dawn. In the morning of Friday, one of my sisters, a trained nurse, came to me and said she was leaving for work.

She was in a casual dress and I asked her why she was not in her uniform. Then she said she manages a business for a certain woman who lives outside the country. Then I asked her the obvious question and she was like, “I haven’t been posted yet.” She completed school in 2023 and we are in 2026.Education

In Ghana, we have nursing and teacher trainee colleges that train people to become nurses and teachers. Over two decades ago, when I was in secondary school, a teacher trainee friend doing her teaching practice advised me to study nursing after school.

Her reason was not because I had any passion for the profession, but because jobs were readily available in that field. According to her, pursuing nursing meant I wouldn’t be job hunting like other graduates after school. And, she was right. The same applied to teacher trainees. Nurses and teachers didn’t have to look for jobs. But I had no passion for healthcare, so I didn’t take her advice.

The question, however, is; will the same advice I was given some years ago still hold today? Are jobs readily available for trained teachers and nurses? Or they now do hunt for jobs after their training? Although the issue in question applies to both personnel undertaking training in teaching and nursing, for the purposes of this piece, I’ll limit it to teacher trainees.

Overview of Pupil-Teacher-Ratio (PTR) in Ghana

According to a review of progress by the Africa Education Watch for Teacher Deployment in Ghana’s Basic Schools, conducted between 2022 and 2025, Ghana fell short on its targets for the benchmarks it set for the sector.

The PTR, a critical indicator of teacher adequacy and teaching quality, generally has lower PTRs corresponding to smaller class sizes, personalised instruction, and improved learning outcomes.

According to the Eduwatch report, the Education Sector Medium-Term Development Plan (ESMTDP) (2022-2025) sets PTR targets of 31:1 at Kindergarten (KG), 31:1 at Primary, and 11:1 at Junior High School (JHS). These targets, the report noted, are “relevant for the deployment of effective learner-centered pedagogy under Ghana’s Standards-Based Curriculum.”

However, implementation under the medium-term has fallen short of these benchmarks, with national data for the 2023/2024 academic year (three years into the four-year medium term), reporting PTRs of approximately 45:1 at KG, 39:1 at Primary, and 20:1 at JHS, which are all significantly above target levels.

Key aspects of the teacher deficit

The report listed four key factors contributing to this teacher deficit in the classrooms.

Massive shortage: Executive Director of Eduwatch, Kofi Asare, has said in an interview on Channel One TV on Tuesday, January 13, 2026, while assessing the one-year performance of President John Dramani Mahama, that the education sector requires at least 15,000 new teachers each year to maintain balance in the system. However, he stated that no teachers were recruited in 2025, worsening an already strained situation.
“As a result, we now have not less than 30,000 classrooms without teachers, and the number could be higher,” he indicated.

Recruitment challenges: The country is also faced with the challenge of recruiting teachers despite having a large pool of trained teachers, due to bureaucratic hurdles. Usually, there are delays in financial clearance, coupled with administrative bottlenecks preventing the employment of qualified teachers, leaving many schools in the country understaffed.
Teacher attrition: Many trained teachers in the country are leaving the profession to seek better-paying jobs and more prestigious careers. This turnover is largely due to poor remuneration and low prestige associated with teaching, making it challenging for the sector to retain its trained and experienced talents.
Rural-urban imbalance: Due to obvious reasons such as the lack of adequate infrastructure and social amenities in many deprived areas in Ghana, many qualified teachers reject postings to these areas, and often prefer to work in the urban centres, leading to a shortage in these rural and remote locations.

The recruitment controversy in Ghana

On Wednesday, November 12, 2025, Ghanaians were made to attach a familiar adjective –-black-– to the day, due to the tragic story that unfolded in the early hours of that fateful day. During a Ghana Armed Forces recruitment exercise at the El-Wak Sports Stadium in Accra, six applicants lost their lives, and 28 others suffered varying degrees of injuries in a stampede that occurred at the venue.

Over 500,000 Ghanaian youth applied for the 2026 security service roles in the Police, Immigration, Prisons and Fire Services, but only 5,000 spots were available for the 105,000 people that qualified.

These statistics exclude the Ghana Armed Forces (GAF) because it is managed by the Ministry of Defence, while the other security agencies mentioned earlier operate a centralised exercise for agencies under the Ministry of the Interior.

These figures, experts have argued, are not inspired by the passion to serve but the lack of jobs in the country. After people losing their lives and many being rejected the opportunity to train to join the security services, we woke up to yet another recruitment brouhaha, this time around, not persons who are applying to be trained to become professionals, but rather, those the government has already spent taxpayers’ money to train.

The introduction of this piece makes it clear that completing teacher training does not guarantee one a readily market to fit in. You need to wait for some years before you get recruited. And according to these unemployed trained teachers, once it gets to the turn of a particular year-group to be employed, the system absorbs all available trained personnel in that particular year.

However, the situation is not the same this time around. When the Ghana Education Service (GES) opened the portal for people to apply for the 2026 postings, 40,000 trained and licensed teachers did, out of which the Ministry of Finance gave clearance for only 7,000 to be employed. Where should the remaining applicants go?

Impact on education

The government’s refusal to employ these trained teachers in the various schools adversely impacts education in the country, which consequently will affect the future of this nation. It brings increased workload on the existing teachers, declines the quality of education, particularly in rural areas where professional teachers refuse postings, and further breeds educational inequality, especially in the villages where pupils lack access to some basic resources.

The political dancing-chairs with Ghana’s training institutions

Ghana’s political landscape has been inundated with freebie promises from politicians who know such promises resonate with many of the electorates than giving them economic empowerment to cater for themselves. It is for this reason that the “I’ll provide free this, free that” dominate campaign promises during elections.

In 2013, John Dramani Mahama promised to cancel the teacher and nursing trainee allowances, which he did in 2014. Some of us commended him for that because, it was the boldest political decision any government could make since the introduction of the allowance for the trainees over some six decades ago.

This policy was first introduced by Osagyefo Dr. Kwame Nkrumah in the 1960s to increase enrollment in the teacher training institutions. This was because the field was not attractive to many youths, and for that reason, Nkrumah introduced it to serve as a crucial incentive to encourage young people to pursue teaching. It was also to support needy students at the training to cater for some expenses while in school.

However, after promising to cancel the allowance, President Mahama in 2016, at the dying minutes of the electioneering period, turned around to pay the allowance to these trainees. This was because his opponent had promised to restore it and for the fear of losing votes, he licked back his own spittle on the ground.

Lo and behold, President Akufo-Addo restored the allowance in 2017, a campaign promise that helped him to win votes, which he fulfilled but failed to execute its implementation to the core.

What’s the essence of the colleges if we can’t absorb their products afterwards?

The question is; why should we have Colleges of Education if we can’t employ their students after training them? What would really be the sense in spending taxpayers’ money to train people and make them sit at home in the end? President Nkrumah introduced the allowance because people were not attending teacher training colleges.

As a result, it was meant to incentivise them to be trained as teachers. Now people are clamouring for admission, so what’s the sense in still keeping the allowance, which could have been saved, invested and used to employ these same teachers by the time they complete the training?

Following reports that only 7,000 out of the 40,000 trained teachers that applied for this year’s postings could be absorbed by the government, the Teacher Trainees’ Association of Ghana (TTAG) called for the shutting down of these colleges if the situation is going to remain the same.

Nanija Devine, President of TTAG, had said at a press conference at the Association’s national secretariat on Wednesday, April 22, 2026, that: “Those currently in the Colleges of Education are over 65,000. If the 45,000 already in the system do not know when they will be posted, then what about those still in training? What is the essence of their education?” he quizzed, adding that “if indeed the government cannot recruit the 45,000 trained teachers in the system, then the Colleges of Education should consider closing down.”

A time to redirect the allowance to reduce the unemployed trained teachers

In the 2026 Budget statement presented by the Finance Minister, Dr. Cassiel Ato Baah Forson, in Parliament on Thursday, November 13, 2025, the Government made an allocation of GH¢207 million for teacher trainee allowances. It also included a GH¢474 million for nursing trainee allowances. Don’t forget trained nurses are also unemployed.

The GH¢207 million allocated for the teacher trainee allowance, could employ pproximately 5,000 new teachers for an entire year.

An analytical policy critique by the African Foundation for Educational Development (AFFED) says the Ghana Education Service’s (GES) Single Spine Salary Structure has an entry-level monthly salary for newly posted diploma-holding teachers starting with a gross of around GH¢2,732, while degree holders start around GH¢3,459.

On average, together with SSNIT, it costs the State around GH¢35,000 to GH¢41,500 annually for an entry-level teacher. Dividing GH¢207,000,000 by an average annual employment cost of GH¢41,500 yields exactly 5,000 teachers.Ghana travel guide

Why can’t we invest this money at the beginning of every academic year? By the time they finish their training in four years, how much could have been realized to absorb these teachers who are staying at home?

Conclusion

If there is one thing I’m certain of, it is the fact that the Ghanaian politician’s interest is where they can get their earliest reward and not what the future holds for the younger generation. It is for this reason that the New Patriotic Party (NPP) introduced the Free SHS policy and the National Democratic Congress (NDC) coming up with the No Fee Stress policy.

Clearly, the beneficiaries of these two policies are either in their voting age or would be eligible in the nearest election to come. So, the objective is for political parties to use these policies as bait to win their votes, leaving the basic level which requires the most important attention to suffer.Political analysis reports

To summarise the whole issue; Government established teacher training colleges to train instructors for our basic schools. People were not interested. So, incentives were introduced to motivate people to enroll. It got to a time that application for enrollment went up.

Government abolished the incentive and rather opted to give student loans. But due to politics, these allowances were reintroduced. Now, after spending money to train these teachers, government cannot employ them. They are staying at home. Meanwhile, our schools need teachers and the political twist has always been to look busy, sound caring and ignore the real issues.

Free SHS is undoubtedly a brilliant policy. No fee stress isn’t a bad programme as well, just as the teacher trainee allowance. But all these policies are geared towards beneficiaries whom the politician could benefit from when it is time for elections. To them, the basic level can go to hell with empty classrooms and overworked teachers.

Why can’t the government redirect trainee allowances to employ trained teachers and offer student loans to those needing support, so they can repay after their training just like other tertiary students?

I dare say the Government lacks the balls to do that because of the fear of losing votes in the next elections. For this reason, children at the basic level of education are the ones paying the price for these skewed policies.

Is it not yet time to prioritise our education before politics? Anyway, the MP for Shama in the Western region, Emelia Arthur, last week assured her constituents that they are going to build more teacher training colleges.


The writer, Felix Anim-Appau, works with the online unit at Media General. The views expressed in this piece are his personal opinions and do not reflect, in any form or shape, those of the Media General Group, where he works. His email address is kwadwoasiedu2012@gmail.com, and he can be found on X as @platofintegrity

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