For years, Ghana’s fight against corruption carried a quiet discomfort. It was widely acknowledged that concentrating prosecutorial power in the hands of the Attorney-General, who is appointed and removable by the President, posed a structural difficulty. Occupying the dual role of government adviser and chief prosecutor, this constitutional structure raised the question whether it could effectively prosecute corruption, especially where the political establishment itself might be implicated.
Over time, that concern grew into a near national consensus. Even the memorandum to the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) Act, 2017 (Act 959), acknowledged that institutional bottlenecks, particularly this concentration of power, had hindered the fight against corruption.
The response was the creation of an independent prosecutorial body. Parliament passed Act 959 in November 2017, presidential assent followed in January 2018, and the Office of the Special Prosecutor was established. Despite criticisms, its existence appeared settled. Until now.
The Case That Brings It All Into Question
Few expected that the constitutional foundations of the Office would be tested so directly. But in December 2025, a writ was filed by one Noah E.T. Adamtey, invoking the original jurisdiction of the Supreme Court, challenging the very legality of the Office’s prosecutorial powers.
The plaintiff, a Ghanaian citizen and legal practitioner, contends that the structure of the Office is fundamentally inconsistent with the Constitution. His case is anchored on a simple but far-reaching claim that prosecutorial authority in Ghana is vested exclusively in the Attorney-General and cannot be exercised independently by any other body.
The suit seeks, among other reliefs, declarations that key provisions of the OSP Act are unconstitutional and should be struck down. Soon thereafter, the event gained public attention.
Part of that attention stemmed from the identity of the plaintiff. It is public knowledge that before the appointment of the Deputy Attorney General, he was at the same chambers, Praetorium Solicitors Unlimited, with the plaintiff in his law practice. That connection has, in some quarters, fuelled speculation about whether the case reflects deeper institutional alignment or internal legal positioning. Whether coincidence or not, the optics have added a layer of intrigue to an already significant case.
The Attorney-General’s Case: Agreement in Substance, Resistance in Form
Ordinarily, one would expect the Attorney-General to defend the law vigorously. But here lies the real twist. In its submissions before the Court, the Attorney-General, while formally urging that parts of the plaintiff’s case be dismissed, advances arguments that largely support the core constitutional claim.
Stripped to its essentials, the Attorney-General’s position can be understood in five key propositions.
1. Prosecutorial Power Is Constitutionally Centralised
The Attorney-General argues that under Article 88, the power to initiate and conduct criminal prosecutions is vested solely in that office. The use of the word “all” in the Constitution, it is suggested, leaves no room for a parallel or independent prosecutorial authority.
2. Authorisation Must Be Discretionary, Not Compelled
While the Constitution allows others to prosecute offences, this is only permissible where they are authorised by the Attorney-General. That authorisation, the Attorney-General argues, is a matter of discretion. Any law that compels the Attorney-General to grant such authorisation effectively strips that discretion and is therefore unconstitutional.
3. Parliament Cannot Force Delegation of Power
The submissions contend that Parliament cannot, by ordinary legislation, require the Attorney-General to delegate prosecutorial authority. To do so would be to indirectly exercise a constitutional power that belongs exclusively to the Attorney-General.
4. Prosecutorial Power Cannot Be Transferred to an Institution
A further argument is that prosecutorial authority is personal to the Attorney-General and cannot be vested in a juridical entity such as the Office of the Special Prosecutor. At most, individuals may act on behalf of the Attorney-General, but not an independent institution insulated from his control.
5. The Act Impermissibly Alters the Constitution
Finally, the Attorney-General argues that Act 959, in granting the Office a degree of independence and insulating it from control, effectively alters the constitutional design without a formal amendment. This, it is contended, is beyond Parliament’s power.
A Case of Principle, Politics, or Both?
What makes this case remarkable is not only the legal arguments but what they suggest. At one level, it is a straightforward constitutional dispute about the interpretation of Article 88. At another, it raises a deeper question, whether the State has, in its effort to fight corruption, created a structure that sits uneasily with its own Constitution.
And then there is the optics. When the Attorney-General’s arguments align so closely with those of the plaintiff, it invites an uncomfortable but unavoidable question. Is this a case of institutional disagreement being resolved in court, or does it reflect a more subtle form of convergence within the state itself?
Conclusion: A State in Conversation With Itself
However, as it is framed, the case presents a rare moment. It is a moment in which the law is not merely being applied, but interrogated at its foundations. A moment in which the architecture of prosecutorial power is being tested against the practical demands of governance.
And perhaps most strikingly, it is a moment in which the state appears, at least in part, to be arguing against its own creation.
Whether this is a principled correction, an institutional reckoning, or something in between, the Supreme Court’s decision will determine whether Ghana’s most ambitious anti-corruption tool stands on firm constitutional ground, or whether the fight against corruption must once again be reimagined.
