The Winners and Losers of Ghana’s Gold Rush

“Why are you destroying my farm?” Moses Morkeh pleaded in tears as the rumble of earth-moving machines drowned out his voice. The cocoa farmer from Sendu, a village near Anyinase in Ghana’s Western Region, stood helplessly as 40 excavators tore through his carefully tended trees.

“The chief has given us permission to mine for gold here,” came the blunt reply.

For Morkeh, like many migrant farmers in Ghana, the land is his livelihood, even if he doesn’t own it. But in recent months, vast swathes of farmland have been seized for gold mining, often without compensation.

Ghana, now Africa’s largest gold producer, churned out around four million ounces of the precious metal in 2023. This boom is largely driven by small-scale mining, or galamsey, a practice that has exploded with the influx of powerful, cost-effective machinery from China. While these machines make mining faster and more lucrative, they leave devastation in their wake: ruined farmland, poisoned waterways, and displaced communities.

Morkeh’s story is part of a larger pattern. Our investigation uncovered how small-scale mining cartels – often with political connections – sideline farmers like him, seizing land and reaping profits with little accountability. Ghana’s laws require compensation for those impacted by mining, but in reality, most farmers are excluded from negotiations.

With a general election looming on December 7, the country’s gold rush has become a contentious issue, raising questions about who truly benefits and who is left to pay the price. The stories of farmers like Morkeh are a reminder of the human cost of this new gold rush.

Shut Out

Like in most parts of Ghana, land ownership among the Nzema people, who live in the area around Sendu and Anyinase, is a complex mix of customary practices. Land is often acquired through allocation by chiefs and family heads, or through marriage and inheritance. 

Migrant farmers in Ghana till the land, but do not own it. Traditionally the farmers pay rent by sharing their produce – mostly tree crops such as cocoa, palm oil, rubber or coconut – with the landowner. 

But Morkeh’s ordeal has become widespread. By 2022, the Ghanaian government reported that galamsey had destroyed or affected more than 19,000 hectares (46,950 acres) of cocoa plantations in Ghana.

Across Ghana, the majority of galamsey sites are today run by Chinese nationals. Between the mid 2000s and 2016, more than 50,000 Chinese investors took up mining in Ghana, introducing the Chanfan – a cheap, diesel-powered floating machine – to the age-old practice. This device has revolutionised alluvial gold mining, but uses up more land and pollutes more water in its wake. 

Behind the Chinese miners, however, are networks of influential Ghanaians who broker access to land. Farmers frequently complain that they are shut out of negotiations and that any compensation they receive – when they receive it – is negligible. 

Before mining licenses are finalised in Accra, the country’s capital, a 21-day notice should be posted publicly to notify community members of the claim. Farmers affected can then appeal to the Minerals Commission, which issues mining licences. 

However, interviews with more than a dozen farmers from Sendu village alone confirmed that there was no public notice of mining in the area. None of those interviewed was even aware of this process, while some did not know that they were supposed to be compensated. 

Kwame Atta (not his real name) belongs to a local cartel in Anyinase that fronts for people looking for lands to mine. Under condition of anonymity, because of what he described as threats to his life, he agreed to describe how the system works. 

Much of the money paid by investors, he explained, was used for bribes. 

“This is part of a so-called ‘good way’, which is money set aside to pay off the police, soldiers and other state security officers,” Atta said.

“The miners offer 50,000 Cedis (3,150 US dollars) for every farm land, but the chiefs take 15,000 Cedis (945 dollars) leaving us with only 35,000 Cedis. We also take our cut and leave 30,000 Cedis for the farmers,” Atta said. 

Atta described the offer of 30,000 Cedis for 15 acres of productive cocoa farmland – a typical size – as daylight robbery. 

“If you are compensated even 50,000 Cedis for 15 acres, you've been cheated,” he said. 

Atta said that local politicians from the governing New Patriotic Party (NPP) were linked to the cartels.

“I have witnessed NPP operatives overseeing the illegal mining operations,” Atta said, adding that before the Chinese ‘investors’ started mining, they had to pay a fee of some 800,000 Cedi.

In September 2024, an investigation by Ghanaian media outlet The Fourth Estate showed that leading NPP figures elsewhere in the country had been given licenses to mine in protected forest areas. Martin Ayisi, the head of Ghana’s Minerals Commission, denied that politicians used their connections to obtain permission for licenses.

Forest Destroyed

Gold mining brings social and environmental costs. This year, the Forestry Commission reported that it had wiped out more than 2.5 million hectares of forest cover in Ghana. 

First to suffer are the farmers who rely on tree crops: cocoa provides a livelihood to more than 3.2 million Ghanaian farmers and workers. This is not even counting their dependents and other trickle-down beneficiaries.

Before his farm was destroyed, Morkeh had planted 1,500 cocoa trees, many of which were ready for harvest. They represented five long years of tilling, tendering, fertilising and pruning, all torn down in a few hours.

Confirming Atta’s claims about compensation, Morkeh says he was offered 30,000 Cedis for his farmland, an amount he describes as a pittance relative to his investment and potential returns.

Morkeh, his wife and their seven children are bracing for harsh times ahead.

“I reported it to the police. The police commander told me he would interrogate the matter, but to date, nothing has been done,” he said.

Other farmers are taking direct action. Producing a video of a violent encounter between farmers and the police, Atta said they were resisting eviction from their land. 

Faustina Akuba Mensah – aka Aunty Akuba, a local activist in Anyinase – also recounted how she had called the police during a particularly tense standoff between farmers and Chinese miners. 

“The inspector claimed he was not in town and that he would send subordinates to handle the situation, but no one ever showed up,” she said. 

The miners continued their work unimpeded, and the clash ended with the farmers being forced off their land.

Agya Nenza, who cultivates both rubber and cocoa, told a similar story about the destruction of his farm. 

“The police told us that the galamsey operation is spearheaded by some NPP party members – ‘big men’ – and that anyone who tries to stop them will pay for it. We went directly to the commander to report this issue and what he said made me very sad,” he said.

The Ghana police service did not respond to a request for comment. 

As Ghana heads into elections, the destruction caused by gold mining has become a major issue for voters. In September this year, trade unions threatened strikes if the government did not take steps to ban galamsey operations like those that confront the farmers of Anyinasi. The strikes were called off at the last minute, except for a two-week walkout by university teachers.

Aunty Akuba, now 62, steadfastly refuses to give up her campaign against the environmental damage caused by gold mining. 

“Our rivers have been polluted with cyanide and mercury and other chemicals,” she said. “I fear that the people of this area, who are predominantly farmers, will not have a place to farm.”

But migrant farmers like Morkeh have been left with little hope. 

“Those who have created this problem,” he said, “are more powerful than we are - and we have no voice at all.”