Daniel Kwame Ampofo Adjei, PhDFor more than a decade, Ghana’s asset declaration law functioned more as a symbolic requirement than a real tool for promoting integrity in public office.
Officials routinely ignored it, and no one was held accountable. The law looked good on paper, but in practice, it lacked teeth. This began to change, not through legal reform or institutional overhaul, but through the power of independent journalism.
In recent years, The Fourth Estate, an investigative journalism project of the Media Foundation for West Africa (MFWA), has led the charge in demanding accountability from public officials. Through dogged reporting and fact-based investigations, it has turned a once-ignored law into a source of public scrutiny.
In 2023 alone, their stories prompted hundreds of political appointees and even some judges to declare their assets, seemingly out of fear of exposure. These were not abstract stories, they were direct, named reports backed by official documents and Right to Information (RTI) requests.
When President John Dramani Mahama returned to office in January 2025, his administration quickly realized it was not entering a blank media space. The spotlight was already fixed on asset declaration. Within weeks of taking office, President Mahama directed all appointees to declare their assets by March 31.
By April, a significant number had complied, but over 50 had not. The Fourth Estate responded with a bold publication that named the defaulters and questioned whether the President’s directive was mere rhetoric or a real stand for accountability.
To his credit, President Mahama reacted. On May 5, he summoned the defaulting appointees and announced that they had forfeited three months’ salary. He gave them a final deadline, May 7, to comply or lose their jobs. It was a strong political move, and it worked.
By mid-May, nearly all the appointees had complied. The Fourth Estate, keeping up the pressure, followed up with another RTI request and published the full list of those who declared and those whose status remained unclear. This outcome is a triumph of journalism. It is proof that when the press is free and bold, it can compel action that formal institutions struggle to enforce.
But while we celebrate this progress, we must also confront a harder truth: journalism alone cannot sustain long-term accountability. Ghana’s asset declaration law, the Public Office Holders (Declaration of Assets and Disqualification) Act of 1998 (Act 550), still has significant gaps that undermine its purpose.
First, the scope of the law is too narrow. It focuses on direct assets and liabilities declared by public officers themselves. It does not account for indirect holdings – assets acquired through spouses, children, or proxies.
In an era of sophisticated financial arrangements, this leaves too many loopholes. A public officer can easily transfer assets to relatives or register businesses under different names, thereby complying with the letter of the law while violating its spirit.
Second, the law lacks any real verification mechanism. Declarations are submitted to the Auditor-General, but they are not routinely checked for accuracy. There is no system of audits or independent review.
A public officer can submit incomplete or even false information with little fear of consequence. Without verification, the entire process risks becoming a box-ticking exercise rather than a meaningful act of transparency.
Another major weakness lies in public access. Currently, asset declarations are not automatically available to the public. Citizens and civil society actors must go through lengthy RTI procedures, often with uncertain outcomes.
This lack of transparency limits the role that watchdogs, including the media can play. A balance must be struck between privacy and public interest, but the default cannot be secrecy when public trust is at stake.
Perhaps the most concerning gap in the law is its vague and inconsistent enforcement. While Act 550 specifies that a person who unlawfully acquires assets may be subject to certain penalties, it does not clearly outline what happens to those who simply refuse to declare or who submit false information.
The President’s decision to withhold salaries and threaten dismissal was politically bold, but it was not based on a legal requirement. In a different political context, a different leader could simply ignore non-compliance, and the law, as it stands, would not stop them.
What this means is that the accountability we saw in this recent episode was not guaranteed by the legal system; it was driven by media pressure and presidential discretion. This is not how rule-based governance should function. We cannot always rely on brave journalists and benevolent leaders to do what our laws should ensure.
The work of The Fourth Estate shows what is possible when the media is free, well-resourced, and committed to the public good. But it also highlights what remains undone. Ghana’s Parliament must revisit the asset declaration law with urgency.
The country needs legislation that captures the full scope of wealth, provides mechanisms for verification, ensures public access, and applies clear and automatic consequences for non-compliance.
If we are to fight corruption seriously, we must build systems that do not depend on chance or goodwill. Independent journalism can trigger change, but it is up to lawmakers and institutions to ensure that the change becomes permanent.
Until then, the law will continue to walk a tightrope between symbolism and enforcement, and the rest of us will continue to ask: when will Ghana’s laws be as serious about integrity as The Fourt Estate is ?
Authors:
Daniel Kwame Ampofo Adjei, PhD. PMP®
Stanley Assor
