TRAFFITECH: When the Solution Can Become Another Problem

Ghana’s Latest Attempt to Fine Its Way into Road Safety

Ghana is a fascinating country.

We have our fair share of problems. Our economy occasionally behaves like a trotro climbing the Aburi mountains with a slipping clutch, our infrastructure has a complicated relationship with maintenance, and our politicians have somehow perfected the art of promising us heaven while struggling to provide decent roads to get there.

Yet, despite all this, Ghana remains a relatively peaceful, cheerful country.

We are not entirely free of crime, corruption or violence, but compared with many troubled parts of the world, we enjoy a degree of peace and social tolerance worth protecting.

We complain, we laugh, we insult each other, and somehow, we get on with life.

Take a typical traffic incident involving a taxi driver and a trotro driver.

One cuts across the other. Brakes screech. Windows come down. What follows is a spectacular exchange of colourful language involving each other’s mothers, questionable family histories and anatomical features that have absolutely nothing to do with the Highway Code.

Ten minutes later, both men have forgotten the incident. One is eating roasted plantain, the other is shouting “Circle! Circle! One more!” and Ghana continues functioning.

It’s practically a national conflict resolution mechanism.

Now imagine introducing a system that automatically sends both men financial penalties they can barely afford.

Suddenly, the insults are no longer free.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to Traffitech, Ghana’s latest technological solution to our legendary road indiscipline.

A Brilliant Solution. But to Which Problem?

Let me begin by admitting something that may disappoint those expecting me to condemn the technology.

Traffitech is a good idea.

Automated traffic enforcement can detect offences, discourage reckless driving, improve compliance and ultimately save lives.

Cameras don’t accept excuses about funerals, sick aunties or the urgent need to deliver somebody’s waakye before the shito gets cold.

They don’t take lunch breaks, recognise big men or negotiate over a bottle of schnapps.

Beautiful technology!

But here’s my concern.

Just because a solution works doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the right solution for a particular society at a particular stage of its development.

You can install a sophisticated burglar alarm in a house with no doors. The alarm may work perfectly, but perhaps we should discuss the doors first.

The Highway Code: Ghana’s Best-Kept Secret

I have spent enough time around vehicles and Ghanaian drivers to suspect something rather disturbing.

If we subjected every road user, from the pedestrian crossing the motorway to the articulated truck driver carrying forty tonnes of cement, to a proper examination on the Highway Code, I suspect a frightening number would struggle to achieve even 40%.

And I’m being generous!

Some drivers appear to believe road signs are decorative artwork provided by the Department of Urban Beautification.

Others regard indicators as optional Christmas lights.

Pedestrians occasionally cross highways with the confidence of people who have received personal assurances of immortality.

And don’t get me started on drivers who believe hazard lights grant them diplomatic immunity to park anywhere.

Yet our solution is to introduce a sophisticated punishment system before making a serious national effort to educate the people being punished.

Imagine a school where most students cannot read properly.

Would your first intervention be to employ more invigilators and increase the penalties for failing examinations?

Or would you consider teaching them?

Ghana needs a massive, sustained Highway Code education campaign, not just a nationwide collection of electronic school prefects.

Thirty to sixty seconds of road safety education on television, radio and social media, repeated daily in English and our local languages, could make an enormous difference.

Teach people what the signs mean. Explain right of way. Demonstrate lane discipline, pedestrian responsibilities, safe following distances and the consequences of speeding.

Educate first. Enforce fairly. Punish deliberately.

Not the other way around.

The Camera Sees the Car, Not the Criminal

Now we arrive at the particularly Ghanaian complication.

The registered owner of a vehicle is not necessarily the person driving it.

This may seem obvious, but it has enormous implications for a system that identifies vehicles through their registration numbers.

Consider our commercial transport industry.

I would not be surprised if something like 80% of trotro drivers, 70% of taxi drivers and 60% of ride-hailing drivers were operating vehicles belonging to somebody else.

These are illustrative estimates, not official statistics, but the ownership arrangement itself is extremely common.

So imagine this scenario.

Madam Akosua is 83 years old. She has arthritis, a troublesome knee and hasn’t driven a car since Rawlings was in power.

She owns two trotros that provide her retirement income.

Every morning, her drivers collect the vehicles, terrorise innocent road users, disregard traffic regulations and return in the evening with her daily sales.

Then Traffitech arrives.

One driver accumulates speeding offences. Another jumps red lights.

And who receives the unpleasant correspondence?

Madam Akosua!

An octogenarian who was sitting peacefully at home watching television and supervising her grandchildren is suddenly the registered owner of a vehicle involved in enough traffic offences to qualify for its own criminal biography.

Now, of course, the law may provide ways to identify the actual driver, transfer liability or challenge a penalty. That distinction matters.

But unless the system makes those procedures simple, reliable and accessible, we risk turning innocent vehicle owners into unpaid traffic investigators.

The same problem affects companies operating fleets, private individuals employing chauffeurs, and small business owners whose vehicles are driven by employees.

A camera can identify a registration number with remarkable accuracy.

But identifying a vehicle is not the same as establishing who committed the offence.

And justice should be a little more sophisticated than sending the bill to whoever’s name appears in the DVLA database.

We Are Setting Mousetraps in a House Full of Pets

Here’s another way to look at it.

Suppose you discover rats in your house.

You purchase the most advanced mousetraps money can buy. German engineering. Japanese sensors. Artificial intelligence. Perhaps even Bluetooth connectivity.

Excellent!

Unfortunately, you also have three cats, two puppies and a particularly curious toddler running around.

The traps may be extremely effective.

But shouldn’t you first consider who else might get caught?

That is my concern with Traffitech.

We are introducing a powerful enforcement mechanism into a road transport environment that may not yet have the education, administrative systems and accountability structures necessary to support it fairly.

Technology is only as intelligent as the system surrounding it.

Otherwise, we may successfully catch offenders while simultaneously punishing innocent people.

And that would be a very expensive way of discovering that Ghana’s problem was never simply a shortage of cameras.

Defensive Driving: Defending Ourselves Against Whom?

For years, Ghanaian motorists have been encouraged to practise defensive driving.

A wonderful concept.

But I’ve always been curious about the terminology.

Defensive driving?

What exactly are we defending ourselves against?

Other drivers, obviously!

We are effectively admitting that our roads contain so many unpredictable, poorly trained and undisciplined road users that every sensible driver must operate their vehicle as though surrounded by potential assassins.

You approach an intersection assuming somebody will ignore the traffic lights.

You drive past a trotro assuming it will stop without warning.

You approach a pedestrian assuming they will suddenly develop suicidal ambitions.

You even approach a parked vehicle assuming its door will open directly into your path.

This isn’t driving.

It’s a survival course with air conditioning.

And instead of addressing the quality of road-user education, we seem increasingly enthusiastic about developing more sophisticated methods of punishing the consequences.

A Country Cannot Fine Its Way to Happiness

Here is where my concern extends beyond road safety.

Ghana is not a wealthy country.

For many households, disposable income is a distant relative they have heard about but never actually met.

People are already dealing with school fees, rent, fuel, electricity, medical bills and the occasional family funeral that requires the financial planning of a small international conference.

Now add another system capable of generating unexpected financial penalties.

Of course, breaking the law must have consequences.

But there is a difference between punishment designed to improve behaviour and punishment that becomes another burden on an already financially stressed population.

A country can have strict traffic enforcement and still remain happy.

But if every social problem is met with another fine, levy, charge or penalty, eventually the cheerful Ghanaian may begin to resemble an angry European commuter who has just received his third parking ticket before breakfast.

And unlike Europe, we don’t necessarily have the same quality of public transport, road infrastructure or administrative safeguards to soften the blow.

Imagine the frustration of a driver fined for an offence on a road where the markings have practically disappeared, the signage is confusing and the traffic lights haven’t worked since the previous government.

The technology may be flawless.

The environment certainly isn’t.

Fair enforcement requires fair conditions.

Otherwise, what begins as a road safety programme risks being perceived as another revenue collection exercise dressed in reflective clothing.

And perception matters, especially in a country where public trust in institutions is already fragile.

How Many Cars? How Many Drivers?

There is another important question we should investigate before celebrating the arrival of our electronic traffic policemen.

How many registered vehicles do we have compared with the number of licensed drivers?

More importantly, how many vehicles are regularly driven by someone other than their registered owner?

The raw ratio alone won’t answer that question, but it would be a useful starting point.

A proper study should examine commercial vehicles, employer-owned fleets, family vehicles and the arrangements between vehicle owners and their drivers.

Because if a substantial proportion of traffic offences are committed in vehicles belonging to someone else, then the effectiveness and fairness of an owner-based enforcement system will depend heavily on how accurately it identifies the responsible driver.

Without that information, we risk designing policy around the convenience of the camera rather than the realities of Ghanaian motoring.

So What Would I Do Differently?

I would not abandon Traffitech.

That would be like throwing away a perfectly good fire extinguisher because the building has poor electrical wiring.

I would simply introduce it as part of a broader, carefully sequenced national road safety programme.

First, launch a massive public education campaign explaining the Highway Code and the offences being monitored.

Second, give motorists a clearly defined period of warnings and education for less serious offences, while continuing to deal firmly with genuinely dangerous driving.

Third, establish an efficient process for identifying the actual driver and allowing vehicle owners to challenge incorrect liability without needing three lawyers, two affidavits and a personal introduction to the Minister.

Fourth, ensure road signs, markings, traffic signals and speed limits are clearly displayed and properly maintained.

Finally, publish transparent data showing whether the system is actually reducing crashes, injuries and deaths.

Because the measure of a successful road safety programme should be lives saved, not money collected.

If revenue increases while accidents remain unchanged, then congratulations, we have invented a very expensive cash register.

My Final Thoughts

I genuinely believe Traffitech has the potential to save lives.

But Ghana must resist the temptation to mistake technological sophistication for good public policy.

Our problem is not simply that drivers are misbehaving.

It is also that too many road users don’t properly understand the rules, too many vehicles are operated by people other than their owners, and too many roads fall short of the standards we expect motorists to obey.

We need education, accountability, infrastructure and enforcement working together.

Not enforcement arriving first, wearing a three-piece suit, while the others are still looking for transport.

Ghana’s relative peace, humour and social tolerance are valuable national assets. We should be careful not to replace every mistake with a financial punishment when education, prevention and better systems might achieve more lasting results.

We should be building a culture of responsible driving, not merely a nation of frightened drivers.

After all, the ultimate objective is not to make Ghanaians afraid of cameras.

It is to make them understand why they should stop at a red light even when nobody is watching.

And if we achieve that, perhaps one day we can retire the phrase “defensive driving” and simply call it what it should have been all along.

Driving.