In a quiet move that has stirred global reflection, OpenAI updated its Usage Policy for ChatGPT on 29 October 2025. The change, though only a few lines long, stated clearly that the company’s services were not to be used for “the provision of tailored advice that requires a license, such as legal or medical advice, without appropriate involvement by a licensed professional.”
In essence, the world’s most popular AI platform had drawn a firm line between information and advice, a distinction that lawyers in Ghana know all too well.
The Policy Shift
The new rule doesn’t silence ChatGPT on matters of law or medicine. Users can still ask it to explain what a statute means, summarise a case, or outline the difference between negligence and breach of contract. What it cannot now do, at least not without the oversight of a licensed professional, is to tell someone what they should do in their particular situation.
It is, as OpenAI put it, a clarification rather than a ban. Yet it speaks to a deeper and older question: who is permitted to give professional advice, and what counts as “practising” that profession?
The Ghanaian Law
In Ghana, the law has long answered that question clearly. The Legal Profession Act, 1960 (Act 32) lays down the rule that only those whose names are on the Roll of Lawyers, and who hold a valid solicitor’s licence for the year, may practise as lawyers.
Section 8 of the Act states that no person other than the Attorney-General or officers of that department shall practise as a solicitor unless they have “a valid annual licence issued by the General Legal Council.” Breach of this rule is an offence, punishable by fine, and it carries a further penalty, namely, the person cannot recover any fees for work done while unlicensed.
Section 9 takes the point further. Anyone not enrolled who “practises as a lawyer” or even prepares “any document for reward… to be used in or concerning any cause or matter before any court or tribunal” commits an offence. And Section 44 of the same Act forbids unqualified persons from preparing legal documents for reward, defining “legal document” broadly to include anything conferring, transferring, or extinguishing rights in property or even indicating that legal proceedings may be brought.
In short, Ghana’s legal regime protects the profession and the public by making sure that only those who are duly trained and licensed can offer or charge for legal services.
How Far Can AI Go? Legal Advice v Legal Information
Still, not every mention of the law amounts to legal advice. A law lecturer explaining contract principles, or a journalist reporting on a Supreme Court decision, is not practising law. But where is the line?
The distinction was helpfully drawn by the UK Supreme Court in BPE Solicitors v Hughes Holland [2017] UKSC 21, a case that, while not Ghanaian, offers useful guidance. The Court explained that advice is when a lawyer considers all relevant matters at stake and is under a duty to evaluate the full range of risks for the client. Information, on the other hand, is when a lawyer (or any professional) simply provides a piece of factual or legal information, limited to a specific question or issue, without assuming responsibility for the broader decision.
Applied to AI, the difference is striking. ChatGPT can explain that under Ghanaian law, bankers owe a duty of confidentiality to their clients. But if it tells you that your bank has breached that duty and that you should sue because you are likely to win, it crosses into legal advice. While the former informs, the latter directs.
Importance of the Professional Limits
This boundary is not mere semantics. It protects both the public and the integrity of the profession. Without it, anyone could present themselves as a legal adviser, potentially misleading clients, drafting invalid documents, or compromising cases.
OpenAI’s updated policy reflects the same principle found in Ghana’s Legal Profession Act. Both emphasize that professional judgment, especially when it carries real consequences, must remain in qualified hands.
At the same time, a modern challenge emerges. In a country where access to justice is uneven and legal information can be costly, tools like ChatGPT could help citizens understand their rights. Restricting AI too tightly might slow that progress. So then, the question is not whether AI should speak about the law, but how far it may go before stepping into a lawyer’s role.
The Road Ahead
For Ghana, this global policy debate offers a moment of reflection. As AI becomes embedded in professional work, regulators will need to decide how tools like ChatGPT fit within existing licensing frameworks. Could a licensed lawyer, for example, use AI to assist in drafting or explaining laws without breaching professional rules? Almost certainly. Could a non-lawyer rely on AI to run a quasi-legal service? That would likely fall foul of Act 32.
AI can already explain the law with remarkable clarity, often, better than most laypeople. But clarity isn’t authority, and the real challenge is making sure society benefits from these tools without letting machines take on the responsibilities reserved for qualified lawyers.
The task ahead, therefore, is to find harmony between both: a world where AI expands access to legal knowledge, without erasing the safeguards that keep justice human.
