Original source:
Fields of Green for ALL – “Important African Cannabis Discussions – The Ghana Edition”
Published 16 September 2026
In mid-September 2026, Fields of Green for ALL participated in a workshop in Accra framed around “Ghana’s Critical Cannabis Moment.” Hosted under the banner of the Transnational Research Centre on Emerging Drug Markets (Loughborough University), the gathering brought together Rastafari leaders, farmers, activists, legal practitioners, law-enforcement representatives, international drug-policy colleagues, and Ghana’s first two licensed cannabis operators. The central theme was economic justice — who gets to participate in the emerging legal cannabis economy, and on what terms.
The discussions matter far beyond Ghana’s borders. They illuminate a pattern repeating across the continent: laws that inch away from total prohibition, followed by implementation regimes that risk recreating exclusion under a new, more formal language.
Decriminalisation on Paper, Continuity in Practice
Ghana took a notable step in 2020 by moving away from pure criminalisation of drug possession and use, including provisions related to cannabis for health and industrial purposes. The formal THC threshold sits at 0.3 %. On the surface this registers as progress. In the Accra room, however, participants quickly moved past the legislative headline to the lived reality of implementation.
Possession can still attract fines. Accumulate three unpaid fines and the path leads back toward incarceration. That is not the clean break from punitive control that the word “decriminalisation” often implies. Participants described familiar patterns of police discretion, informal payments (“cooldrink money”), and the persistence of stigma. For many in the room the experience felt continuous with older enforcement cultures rather than a decisive rupture.
South African participants, including Fields of Green for ALL and Philasande Mahlakata of the Abalimi BoMya Association in Pondoland, recognised the pattern immediately. South Africa’s constitutional protection of private adult use and cultivation remains one of the strongest formal recognitions on the continent. Yet the absence of a functional commercial pathway, the slow operationalisation of the Cannabis for Private Purposes Act, and the continued reality of selective enforcement mean that formal rights have not automatically translated into economic inclusion or consistent protection from the criminal justice system.
The Accra conversations reinforced a point Fields of Green has long advanced: a law is only a starting point. Implementation, institutional design, and the distribution of power determine whether reform delivers justice or merely reorganises exclusion.
The Regulator Problem
One structural detail stood out. In Ghana, NACOB (the Narcotics Control Board), a division of the police, also functions as the regulator for cannabis intended for health and industrial uses. The same institutional family holds both the power to punish and the power to permit. Participants noted the obvious tension. When the culture and organisational incentives of an agency have been shaped by decades of prohibition, simply adding a licensing function does not automatically produce a developmental or rights-oriented regulator.
South Africa faces a different but related institutional gap. Private use rights exist in constitutional and statutory form, yet no dedicated, adequately resourced regulator has been created to translate those rights into clear, accessible rules for ordinary people and small-scale producers. The result in both countries is a vacuum or a conflict of roles that leaves communities navigating ambiguity while better-resourced actors move more easily into whatever formal spaces open.
Economic Justice as the Framing Question
The workshop deliberately centred economic justice rather than treating it as a secondary concern. Who receives licences? What capital, technical and compliance thresholds are required? Do traditional growers, rural communities and historically criminalised people have realistic pathways into the legal economy, or are those pathways designed primarily for external investors and well-connected domestic elites?
Ghana’s early licensed operators were present in the room. Their participation was valuable precisely because it placed the formal sector in direct conversation with farmers, Rastafari leaders and activists whose relationship to the plant predates any licensing regime. Lived-experience testimony was not treated as colour commentary; it was positioned as essential data for anyone serious about designing systems that do not simply reproduce the harms of the prohibition era under new administrative forms.
South African contributors shared the hard-won lesson that being “first” on paper confers no permanent advantage. Constitutional recognition of private use was a significant human-rights achievement. It has not, by itself, produced economic justice for the majority of people who grow, use or historically depended on the plant. The gap between formal rights and material inclusion remains wide. Ghana, standing at an earlier stage of formal market construction, has the opportunity to design with that gap in mind rather than discovering it after the fact.
Colonial Legacies and Continental Patterns
The Accra discussions did not treat current policy struggles as technical or recent. Participants traced lines back through colonial prohibition, the stigmatisation of African and Rastafari cultural practices, and the long history of using drug control as a tool of social and economic control. These historical layers help explain why reform processes that look progressive on the statute book can still feel extractive or exclusionary on the ground.
Across the continent the emerging pattern is similar even while the legislative details differ. Governments are more comfortable with tightly controlled, export-oriented medical or industrial projects than with broad domestic adult-use frameworks or the systematic inclusion of existing small-scale producers. The political comfort zone remains narrow. Economic justice requires deliberately widening it.
Police Culture and the Long Reform Horizon
Fields of Green for ALL used the platform to underline the necessity of police-reform work. Changing statutes is insufficient if the institutional culture and everyday incentives of law enforcement remain oriented toward the old prohibition model. The organisation’s ongoing Police Reform Project seeks practical recommendations that reduce unnecessary arrests, improve police-community relations, and align enforcement practice more closely with constitutional and human-rights baselines.
Participants from multiple countries recognised the same challenge. Informal payments, discretionary enforcement, and the lingering equation of cannabis with serious criminality do not disappear the moment a new law is gazetted. Building different police practice is slow, politically contested work. It is also indispensable if reform is to mean more than a change in legal vocabulary.
We Are Not Free Until We Are All Free
The closing note of the Fields of Green report is both ethical and strategic: “We are not free until we are all free.” The sentence rejects national or sectional triumphalism. South Africa’s constitutional gains do not constitute a finished model for the continent. Ghana’s legislative steps do not automatically deliver justice to its own rural producers or historically policed communities. Progress in one jurisdiction can inform others, but only if the hard questions about power, access and implementation are kept in view.
The Accra workshop modelled a useful posture: bring the licensed and the unlicensed, the official and the criminalised, the international researcher and the local farmer into the same room, and treat lived experience as evidence rather than anecdote. That posture is more demanding than drafting another strategy document. It is also more likely to produce policies that communities can recognise as legitimate.
Implications for South Africa and the Region
For South African readers the Ghana conversations supply both caution and encouragement. Caution, because they show how quickly “decriminalisation” language can mask continued punitive practice and how easily licensing regimes can become vehicles for new forms of exclusion. Encouragement, because they demonstrate a growing continental network of researchers, activists, farmers and practitioners who refuse to treat economic justice as an optional extra.
The practical tasks remain clear: design regulators that are not simply rebranded prohibition agencies; create licensing and support pathways that existing small-scale and traditional producers can actually enter; align enforcement culture with rights rather than with the habits of the past; and measure success by the breadth of participation, not only by export volumes or the number of licences issued to well-capitalised operators.
Ghana is at a critical moment. So is every other African jurisdiction attempting to move beyond pure prohibition. The Accra discussions suggest that the quality of that transition will be determined less by the elegance of the initial law than by the willingness to confront questions of power, inclusion and institutional culture in the years that follow.
Fields of Green for ALL’s report ends with gratitude for Ghanaian hospitality and a simple statement of solidarity. The work continues, in Accra, in Pondoland, in Cape Town, and in every place where people are still trying to turn formal recognition into material justice.
We are not alone. And we are not free until we are all free.
