Ghana’s mining law aims to stop speculation but leaves communities in limbo – insights from a lithium case study
Ghana’s parliament ratified the country’s first lithium mining agreement in March 2026. This came three years after lithium mining was confirmed as commercially viable in September 2023.
The Ewoyaa Lithium Project, in the Central Region of Ghana, covers an area where farming communities have lived for generations. It spans several communities.
The agreement is between the government and Barari DV Ghana Limited, the local subsidiary of Australia-based Atlantic Lithium. Lithium is a mineral used in batteries that power electric vehicles, renewable energy storage systems and everyday electronics. It’s at the heart of global minerals supply chains to decarbonise energy and transport.
With the deal in place, formal discussions will begin with mining communities about relocation, compensation and restoring livelihoods. Compensation could include payment for land, crops, construction work and other assets that will be affected by mining operations, as required under Ghana’s Minerals and Mining Act.
The ratification of the deal also marks the end of a legal moratorium set out in Ghanaian law. This comes into force once minerals of commercial value are discovered.
The moratorium, which lasted three years in the case of the Ewoyaa Lithium Project, was designed to protect both the state and mining firms from complications such as speculative construction, sudden land claims, and inflated compensation demands that may arise from new developments.
Under Ghana’s mining law, once minerals of commercial value are confirmed, temporary restrictions are placed on new permanent structures, farm expansion and other major land use changes in the affected area. It lasts until there is a mineral agreement and compensation arrangements are clear. The intention is to stabilise land use and ensure fair valuation.
It has profound social consequences.
For people already living in these areas, the moratorium can mean extended periods of uncertainty. During this time, everyday decisions about livelihoods, housing and the future are placed on hold.
Its practical impact is that residents living on or near the mining area can’t build, expand their farms, or make other major decisions about land use.
The affected communities live in a state of suspended time during the moratorium. Farmers are unable to plan their next season confidently. Families delay home improvements. Young people postpone major life decisions because their future access to land remains unclear.
The mining agreement doesn’t end the waiting. Instead, it opens a new phase of negotiations, compensation assessments and administrative back and forth. It could stretch on for months or even years.
This prolonged uncertainty causes real social and economic harm. Yet its effects are often overlooked.
My academic work examines governance, natural resources, politics, and energy transitions. In a recent paper, based on extensive fieldwork in the lithium-rich communities of Ewoyaa, Krampa Krom and Krofu, I investigated how these delays and uncertainty shaped everyday life. I gathered firsthand accounts of how people navigated this period of waiting. All are affected by the project.
The effects were unmistakable. People described the moratorium as a form of “frozen time”, when life could not move forward.
The economic setbacks and emotional strain from long periods of uncertainty often go unrecognised in public policy discussions.
Time on hold
My research identified a number of negative effects of the delays in getting mining operations off the ground.
Firstly, households described how it eroded local opportunities and contributed to young people leaving the area. Young people expressed frustration as their job prospects remained frozen, and they lacked clarity on whether future employment at the mine would be accessible or meaningful.
Many young adults, already frustrated by years of stalled prospects, had left in search of work elsewhere.
The few lower-paid jobs associated with early stage mining activities were not yet available.
Secondly, farmers reported clear losses: they could not expand or invest.
Thirdly, women traders, many of whom sell farm produce and foodstuffs, reported disruptions in household income patterns because farming activities were stalled.
Fourth, community elders, reflecting on years of limited communication, described a growing distrust towards government institutions and the processes governing the mineral agreement.
Across these accounts, what united residents was the feeling that their lives had been interrupted by forces far beyond their control. The moratorium did more than pause development, it suspended decision making, aspirations and the ability to plan even the simplest aspects of the future.
“Time on hold” shaped economic choices, social relationships and the very rhythm of community life.
In my study, I argue that these prolonged delays are a form of “temporal injustice”. This concept emerged directly from listening to residents describe how their aspirations, livelihoods and sense of security were reshaped by bureaucratic time.
Temporal injustice occurs when certain groups bear unfair burdens of waiting, uncertainty and delayed decision-making. These disruptions may seem minor when viewed from the outside. But they have broader implications. They affect project timelines, investor confidence, and the long-term reliability of the supply chains that power the global clean energy transition.
Looking forward
As Ghana and the mining company move into the compensation and community engagement phase, they have an opportunity to address not only material losses but the temporal burdens that communities have endured.
First, compensation frameworks should recognise that the moratorium itself caused harm. Beyond land, crops and structures, policymakers must account for the economic and social costs of years spent waiting.
Second, community engagement must be timely, transparent and genuinely participatory.
Information should flow consistently, especially when people’s livelihoods depend on it.
Third, Ghana should incorporate temporal justice principles into mining governance, including clearer timelines, regular updates and support for communities facing prolonged delays.
Finally, as Ghana deepens its role in the global critical minerals supply chains, local communities should share the benefits rather than being left to carry hidden costs. A just energy transition demands fair distribution not only of mineral wealth, but of time, certainty and opportunity.
