Ghana’s Workers in Peril: Urgent Calls for National Safety Overhaul

Ghana’s economic ambitions rest on the shoulders of its workforce, yet a glaring lack of modern safety protections threatens to undermine progress.

Despite decades of growth, the absence of a unified national occupational health and safety (OHS) policy leaves millions exposed to preventable hazards, fueling demands for systemic reform.

The current regulatory landscape, built on aging laws like the 1970 Factories Act and the 2003 Labour Act, fails to address 21st-century workplace risks. Analysts describe these statutes as a patchwork of loopholes, inconsistently enforced and blind to sectors like informal labor, which employs over 80% of Ghanaians. Construction workers face collapsing scaffolds, miners grapple with unsafe tunnels, and healthcare staff navigate exposure to pathogens—all under laws drafted before smartphones existed. “We’re applying bandages to bullet wounds,” says Kwame Asare, a safety inspector in Kumasi. “Without updated rules, enforcement is a guessing game.”

The human cost is staggering. A 2019 mining collapse in the Western Region killed six workers trapped in an unregulated shaft. In 2021, a textile factory fire in Tema left dozens injured, exposing lax fire protocols. Beyond tragedies, the economic toll bites: the World Bank estimates workplace injuries drain 4% of Ghana’s GDP annually through lost productivity and medical costs. Agricultural workers, battling pesticide exposure and backbreaking labor, face shortened lifespans, while transportation crews risk accidents on poorly maintained roads. “Every accident is a family shattered,” says Adwoa Mensah, whose brother died in a 2020 scaffolding collapse. “But these aren’t ‘accidents’—they’re policy failures.”

A robust OHS framework could reverse this tide. Countries like Rwanda and South Africa have slashed workplace deaths by modernizing laws, mandating employer training, and empowering workers to report dangers. Ghana’s version, advocates argue, should unify standards across industries, fund rigorous inspections, and protect informal workers—a group currently invisible to regulators. Economists note added perks: safer workplaces attract foreign investment. “No company wants headlines about factory disasters,” says Accra-based analyst Esi Coleman. “Protecting workers isn’t just ethical—it’s smart business.”

Critics, however, warn of hurdles. Small businesses fear costly compliance, while unions demand swift government action. Momentum is building: last month, labor groups staged nationwide rallies, and the Ministry of Employment pledged to draft a policy by 2025. Yet for many, that’s too slow. “Every delay costs lives,” argues Franklin Tetteh, a mechanic in Tamale. “We need laws that match our reality, not colonial-era relics.”

The path forward demands collaboration. Employers must invest in protective gear and hazard training, while workers need channels to report risks without retaliation. Civil society groups urge public awareness campaigns, and lawmakers face pressure to prioritize the policy ahead of 2024 elections. “This isn’t red tape—it’s a lifeline,” says Asare. “Ghana’s growth means nothing if its people aren’t safe to build it.”

As the debate intensifies, one truth echoes: a nation’s strength lies in its people’s well-being. For Ghana, bridging the safety gap isn’t just policy—it’s survival.