A young man who steals a mobile phone may sleep in a police cell before sunset. But a public official accused of causing millions of cedis in losses may spend years shuttling among lawyers, medical excuses, committees, adjournments, and political interviews. One is called a criminal. The other is called an honourable person under investigation.

This is not just corruption. It is a system designed to survive corruption. That is the disturbing contradiction at the heart of Ghana’s justice system.

The problem is no longer only that some public officials steal. The bigger problem is that the law, the courts, Parliament, political parties and democratic processes often create enough room for the powerful to steal, delay justice, escape punishment and sometimes return to public life as if nothing happened.

In theory, democracy is supposed to protect the people. In practice, Ghana’s democracy often protects the political class first. Elections come and go. Parties accuse each other. Manifestos promise accountability. Committees are formed. Reports are written. Press conferences are held. But after the noise, how many powerful people truly pay back what the state has lost? How many go to prison? How many are banned from public office? How many lose properties acquired from unexplained wealth?

Meanwhile, our prisons remain filled largely with the poor and powerless. In January 2024, Ghana’s prison population was reported at 14,916 inmates in facilities built for 10,265 people, and the Ghana Prisons Service backed calls for non-custodial sentencing for misdemeanours because of congestion.

That overcrowding tells a bigger story. The law is quick to cage the poor but painfully slow to discipline the powerful. A person who steals food, a goat or a phone may be arrested, prosecuted and jailed. But when public funds disappear through procurement breaches, ghost names, inflated contracts and judgment debts, the matter suddenly becomes “complex.” Lawyers argue. Politicians spin. Committees sit. Courts adjourn. Years pass.

This is why the law itself must be questioned. Laws that allow corruption cases to drag for years are not neutral. They help the accused. Procedures that allow endless adjournments are not innocent. They protect the powerful. A legal system that cannot recover stolen state funds quickly is not merely weak; it becomes an accomplice to national robbery.

Ghana must also confront what may be called legal corruption. Not all stealing from the state looks like someone carrying cash away. Sometimes it hides behind official letters, inflated contracts, sole-sourcing, procurement approvals, board decisions, ghost names, judgment debts and overpricing. The crime may be wrapped in paperwork, but the result is the same: the public loses money.

The Woyome judgment-debt case remains one painful example. In 2014, the Supreme Court ordered Alfred Agbesi Woyome to refund about GH¢51.2 million to the state after ruling that the payment came from unconstitutional and invalid contracts. Yet years later, officials were still explaining that the full amount had not been recovered. What kind of justice declares that money must be returned but cannot ensure that the state actually gets it back quickly?

If a poor trader owes a bank, the system will find her. If a tenant owes rent, the landlord may evict him. But when the state owes millions, recovery becomes a long national drama. That is not justice. That is institutional failure dressed in legal language.

The National Service Scheme ghost-names scandal shows the scale of what Ghana is dealing with. In 2025, the Attorney-General disclosed that the state had lost more than GH¢548 million through a ghost-names scheme involving executives, directors, staff and service providers. These are not just figures. They represent stolen classrooms, stolen hospital beds, stolen roads, stolen jobs and stolen hope.

Yet scandals like this often become political entertainment. We discuss them for a few days, divide ourselves along party lines and move on. That is where our democratic process becomes part of the problem. In Ghana, corruption is often judged by party colour. If the accused is a member of our party, we demand due process. If the accused belongs to the other party, we demand prison. This hypocrisy is one reason corruption survives every change of government.

Parliament must also take the blame. Too often, it behaves like a theatre of outrage rather than an engine of accountability. MPs shout about scandals when they are in opposition, but become quiet when their own party is in power. Committees summon officials, cameras capture the drama, reports are written, and then the country moves on. If Parliament cannot consistently punish misuse of public money, then Parliament becomes part of the protection system.

The Auditor-General’s reports continue to expose the same national disease. Public boards, corporations and statutory institutions recorded GH¢18.4 billion in financial irregularities in 2024, compared with GH¢8.8 billion in 2023. These are not isolated mistakes. They show a public system where controls fail repeatedly, yet consequences remain weak.

The judiciary must also face hard criticism. Courts are supposed to be the last hope of the citizen, but in corruption matters, they too often become a theatre of delay. Justice Paul Baffoe-Bonnie, during his vetting as Chief Justice nominee, pledged to restore public confidence in the judiciary and said the law must be both a shield for the weak and a restraint on the powerful. That statement matters because many citizens no longer feel that the law sufficiently restrains the powerful.

The law must not be a maze where only the wealthy can find their way out. The poor appear in court with little or no legal support. The powerful arrive with senior lawyers, applications, appeals, medical reports and political defenders. The poor experience the law as punishment. The powerful experience it as negotiation.

The Microfinance and Small Loans Centre (MASLOC) case shows that high-level punishment is possible, but also how rare it is. In April 2024, former MASLOC boss Sedina Tamakloe Attionu was sentenced to 10 years in prison, while Daniel Axim was sentenced to five years, in a case involving financial loss of GH¢90 million to the state. If the system can deliver such a conviction, why does it seem exceptional rather than normal?

Recent high-profile investigations also show how complicated accountability becomes when powerful figures are involved. In 2025, Interpol issued a red notice for former Finance Minister Ken Ofori-Atta in connection with corruption allegations, including claims related to public funds for the National Cathedral project; his lawyers denied wrongdoing and criticised the process. Whatever one’s politics, the case reflects a familiar pattern: when ordinary people are accused, the system moves quickly; when powerful people are accused, the law becomes slow, dramatic and politically contested.

Ghana must stop pretending this is normal. A country cannot keep filling prisons with petty offenders while treating grand corruption as a matter for committees, press conferences and forgotten dockets. Public officials found guilty of stealing or causing financial loss should lose their pensions, property, public honours, and the right to hold office. Trials involving public funds should have strict timelines. Asset recovery should begin early, not after ten years. Courts should publish the progress of major corruption cases. Parliament should pass laws that make unexplained wealth dangerous, not comfortable.

At the same time, Ghana must rethink how it punishes petty offenders. The Justice for All Programme has helped reduce the remand prisoner population from 33 per cent in 2007 to 8.9 per cent as of May 2024. That progress must continue through non-custodial sentencing, community service and bail reform for minor offences.

The point is not that petty crime should be ignored. Theft is theft. But justice must be proportional. A person who steals food should not meet a harsher system than a public official whose conduct costs the state millions.

The disturbing truth is this: Ghana’s democracy has become too gentle with those who can afford lawyers and too brutal with those who cannot. The law has become too technical for the powerful and too simple for the poor.

Until stealing from the state becomes more dangerous than stealing from a market stall, Ghana’s democracy will continue to protect the powerful and punish the poor.

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The writer, Dr Gervin A. Apatinga, can be reached via email at gervinapatinga@gmail.com