The battle against illegal mining in Ghana is often portrayed as a clash between security forces and armed galamsey operators. But beneath the surface lies a quieter, more insidious conflict — one between state agencies and the very power structures that are supposed to support them.
This hidden war was laid bare in Sekondi when the National Anti-Illegal Mining Operations Secretariat (NAIMOS) admitted that political and traditional interference is one of its biggest obstacles. For many who have followed the galamsey crisis, this was not a revelation but a rare moment of institutional honesty.
Lt. Col. Joshua Satekla, Deputy Director of Operations at NAIMOS, was speaking to Metropolitan, Municipal and District Chief Executives (MMDCEs) and senior police officials when he made the confession. His tone was measured, but the message was explosive: those entrusted with local authority are undermining national enforcement efforts.
Behind the glossy press statements and televised river patrols, the day-to-day reality is far more complex. In many mining hotspots, soldiers create “no-go zones” to protect rivers and forest reserves. But within days, chiefs, MPs, party financiers, or district officials privately pressure operatives to look away — sometimes for votes, sometimes for royalties, sometimes for raw power.
It is a delicate matrix of interests:
• Traditional leaders who see mining as a revenue lifeline.
• Politicians who trade enforcement for electoral loyalty.
• Business networks that thrive on regulatory capture.
• Local authorities caught between duty and influence.
For field operatives, this means that enforcement is almost always negotiated — never absolute.
The Western Region remains ground zero in this battle. Its rivers bear scars of gold dredging; its forests are pockmarked by pits. Yet its political and traditional structures also wield enormous influence over land and security. That influence, NAIMOS says, often becomes a shield for illegal operators.
Western Regional Minister Joseph Nelson insists government is committed to eliminating galamsey. He has called on MMDCEs to support President Mahama’s intensified offensive. But as the minister spoke, the stark reality was visible: support on paper is not always support on the ground.
The logistics challenge raised by NAIMOS adds another layer. Anti-mining operatives often lack equipment, fuel, mobility, and monitoring technology. Meanwhile, illegal miners — backed by financiers — adapt faster and re-enter zones after every raid.
This tug-of-war exposes a broader truth: Ghana’s galamsey problem is not only environmental or criminal — it is institutional. It sits at the intersection of governance, culture, economics, and politics.
Until powerful interests stop undermining field operations, the rivers will continue to run brown, forests will keep shrinking, and anti-mining agencies will remain trapped in a cycle of deployment, withdrawal, and frustration.
The question remains — who really wants galamsey gone?
Publicly, everyone does. But in the shadows, the networks sustaining it are stronger, wealthier, and more influential than many are willing to admit.
Ghana may be fighting illegal mining — but as NAIMOS’ revelations show, it is also fighting itself
