When a construction worker in Accra suffered a spinal injury last year, his employer’s insurance company initially refused compensation, arguing the accident resulted from “carelessness.”
Under Ghana’s Workmen’s Compensation Act, such disputes shouldn’t exist—the law mandates payouts for workplace injuries regardless of fault. Yet as cases like this reveal, bridging policy and practice remains an uphill battle, even with recent reforms tightening insurers’ responsibilities.
Ghana’s worker protection framework hinges on two pillars: the Workmen’s Compensation Act of 1987, which requires employers to cover medical costs, disabilities, or deaths linked to job hazards, and the updated Insurance Act of 2021, designed to hold insurers accountable. Together, they form a safety net intended to shield everyone from factory workers to street vendors. But with an estimated 70% of Ghana’s workforce in informal jobs—often excluded from traditional insurance—the system’s reach remains uneven.
The 1987 law operates on strict liability, meaning employers must pay even if they followed all safety protocols. Compensation amounts depend on earnings and injury severity, covering everything from temporary disability (up to 60% of wages) to fatal accidents (lump sums for dependents). Crucially, courts have repeatedly reinforced these mandates. In a landmark 2007 ruling, the Supreme Court ordered a mining company to compensate a technician’s family after a tunnel collapse, stressing that employers “cannot outsource their moral duty.” Another decision extended coverage to casual laborers, affirming that even short-term hires deserve protection.
But without enforcement, laws gather dust. Historically, delays plagued the process—insurers dragged out claims, while small businesses dodged policies altogether. The 2021 Insurance Act tackles these gaps head-on. It forces insurers to hold higher capital reserves, speeding payouts, and imposes deadlines: claims must be settled within 30 days or face penalties. A new policyholders’ fund acts as a backup if companies fold. Perhaps most significantly, the law pushes microinsurance products tailored to market traders, farmers, and other informal workers, who’ve long fallen through the cracks.
“The reforms recognize that labor has changed,” says an Accra-based insurance regulator, speaking anonymously. “Ghana’s economy runs on gig workers, artisans, and seasonal hires. They need coverage that’s as flexible as their jobs.”
Yet challenges persist. Enforcement agencies lack resources to monitor thousands of small enterprises. Many employers, particularly in agriculture and retail, still view insurance as optional—a 2023 survey found only 38% of SMEs comply. Workers, meanwhile, often don’t know their rights. A mason in Kumasi admitted he’d never heard of the Compensation Act: “If I get hurt, I pray my boss covers the hospital bill. If not, God decides.”
Insurance companies, now under tighter scrutiny, argue they’re caught in the middle. “We support these laws, but fraud is real,” says a claims manager at a major Accra insurer. “Some employers fake injury reports to claim payouts. We need better tools to verify incidents.” Others cite bureaucratic snarls, like hospitals slow to provide medical reports.
For the system to work, advocates say all sides must step up. Regulators are piloting mobile platforms letting workers report injuries anonymously. Unions push education campaigns in local languages. And insurers now offer discounted premiums to companies investing in safety gear—a shift from merely pricing risk to preventing it.
The stakes extend beyond individual cases. Ghana loses an estimated $290 million annually to workplace injuries through lost productivity and healthcare costs. Strengthening compensation isn’t just ethical—it’s economic. As the government eyes labor reforms to attract foreign investment, reliable worker protections could prove a selling point.
But for now, the construction worker injured in Accra remains in limbo. After months of appeals, his insurer finally agreed to cover 80% of his medical bills—but only after his union threatened court. His case underscores a universal truth: laws written in statute books only matter when they’re felt on the ground.
