By Moses Desire Kouyo
When uniformed officers from the Ghana Immigration Service swept through Kaneshie, Abossey Okai, and Kwame Nkrumah Circle in the early hours of Friday, May 16, rounding up street vendors, beggars, and undocumented migrants, they were enforcing more than just national law. They were also testing the fragile promises that have long underpinned Africa’s vision of unity, solidarity, and regional integration.
In a holding statement, the Ghana Immigration Service described the operation as a routine effort to “address the presence of undocumented migrants on the streets,” linking it to child streetism, illegal residency, and broader public safety concerns. Yet behind the bureaucratic language and official justifications lies a far more complicated and troubling reality: a continent still wrestling with the contradictions between its aspirations for borderless unity and its impulses toward national protectionism.
A Vision of Unity, Deferred
In 1979, when the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) adopted the Protocol on Free Movement of Persons, Residence and Establishment, it was nothing short of revolutionary. At a time when colonial borders continued to divide families, cultures, and economies, West African leaders dared to imagine a region without walls—one where a trader from Bamako could set up shop in Accra without fear of harassment, and where a teacher from Lagos could teach in Freetown without bureaucratic barriers.
That protocol enshrined the right of every West African to enter, reside, and establish economic activities in any member state. It promised a region united by shared history, language, and aspirations. It was an ambitious attempt to reclaim Africa for Africans, reversing centuries of imposed divisions.
But more than forty-five years later, the lived reality tells a different story. The very countries that championed the protocol often treat migrants from neighboring states as suspicious outsiders, subject to raids, deportations, and harassment. Ghana’s recent crackdown is not an isolated incident; it is a symptom of a deeper malaise that continues to haunt African integration.
Security vs. Solidarity: A False Choice
Ghana’s concerns about child streetism and undocumented migration are valid. The rise of street children—many of them foreign nationals, begging at intersections and sleeping in makeshift shelters is a complex crisis that strains social services, threatens public safety, and sometimes fuels exploitation. The state has a responsibility to protect its citizens and maintain order.
But security cannot come at the cost of solidarity. When enforcement targets the poor, the marginalized, and the desperate, it risks becoming an instrument of injustice rather than protection. Many of those arrested are not criminals, they are victims of poverty, conflict, or environmental disasters in their home countries. They are the human face of the continent’s uneven development.
Take the Sahel region, for example, where conflict and climate change have displaced millions. According to the International Organization for Migration (IOM), more than 3 million people in West Africa are currently internally displaced or have fled across borders. For many, Ghana represents a beacon of relative stability, a place to rebuild lives. Yet they find themselves caught between the dream of Pan-Africanism and the reality of state sovereignty.
The Paradox of Pan-Africanism
Ghana’s role in African unity is both symbolic and historical. It was in Accra, in 1958, that Kwame Nkrumah convened the All-African Peoples’ Conference, declaring that “the independence of Ghana is meaningless unless it is linked up with the total liberation of Africa.” That vision laid the foundation for continental institutions like the African Union and regional frameworks like ECOWAS.
But the same Ghana that gave us Nkrumah’s Pan-Africanism now faces a crisis of identity: How does it balance its legitimate right to manage migration with its moral obligation to uphold African solidarity? How does it honor Nkrumah’s legacy while grappling with urban poverty, informal economies, and the strains of globalization?
The challenge is not unique to Ghana. From Nigeria to Côte d’Ivoire, from South Africa to Kenya, African states face the same dilemma: How to protect their borders without betraying the ideals of unity that they have promised their people. Too often, national interests have trumped continental commitments, leaving ordinary Africans stranded between rhetoric and reality.
Rethinking Migration: From Threat to Opportunity
If Ghana and Africa at large is to resolve this contradiction, it must reimagine migration not as a threat to be managed but as an opportunity to be harnessed. Migrants bring labor, skills, culture, and resilience. They contribute to local economies, enrich communities, and build bridges between nations. Studies by the African Development Bank show that migrants account for over 4% of Africa’s GDP, often sending remittances that sustain families and drive local development.
Ghana’s response must therefore go beyond immigration sweeps. It must invest in social protection systems that support vulnerable migrants, while enforcing fair and transparent migration management. It must engage with ECOWAS and the African Union to strengthen frameworks that guarantee the rights of migrants and support host communities. And it must educate the public about the value of migration as a force for economic and cultural vitality, not just a challenge to be controlled.
A Call to Action
Africa’s future depends on its ability to reconcile national interests with continental solidarity. As Ghana reviews the outcomes of its latest immigration sweep, it must ask itself: Are we building walls, or are we building bridges? Are we enforcing the law at the expense of human dignity, or are we finding solutions that reflect the spirit of African unity?
The African Union’s Agenda 2063 envisions a continent without borders, where every African can move freely in pursuit of opportunity and safety. That vision cannot remain a slogan. It must become a policy that lives in our streets, our cities, and our communities.
Because if we cannot protect the most vulnerable among us if we cannot see every African as our brother or sister, then Pan-Africanism is nothing but a hollow chant.
Ghana must lead by example. It must remember that the same streets where officers now patrol were once the avenues where Nkrumah marched, calling for an Africa that stands together.
The choice is ours. The time is now.