In 1990, Ghana made history as the first country in the world to sign the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC).
With that bold commitment came both international praise and a national responsibility: to build a legal framework that truly protected the rights and welfare of children.
Following this, Ghana strengthened its commitment by participating in the World Summit for Children.
The summit produced a global plan of action focused on improving children's lives by the year 2000. Ghana’s Head of State at that time, Flt. Lt. J.J. Rawlings, signed the plan on April 21, 1991, marking a clear step toward turning global promises into national action.
This laid the foundation for the development of Ghana’s National Programme of Action (NPA).
By 1998 the responsibility of the NPA took shape through the drafting of the Children’s Act (Act 560), a landmark piece of legislation designed to shield children from exploitation, abuse and premature adult responsibilities. But as Parliament deliberated the bill, one clause sparked fierce controversy and intense public debate: Clause 14(3), which proposed that children between the ages of 16 and 18 could marry with parental consent.
This clause raised a more difficult and enduring question: Should a 16-year-old be allowed to legally consent to sex but not to marriage? Or should the age of sexual consent and marriage be the same?
At the time, Ghana’s Criminal Code set the age of sexual consent at 16, while the proposed Children’s Act aimed to establish 18 as the minimum age for marriage.
This legal gap raised serious concerns in Parliament not just about legal coherence but also its implications for education, emotional maturity, cultural norms, and the broader role of law in shaping society.
Education
One of the most vocal concerns raised during the parliamentary debates in 1998 was the impact of early marriage on education, especially for girls.
At age 16, most Ghanaian students are still in school, often between junior or senior high school.
The possibility of legally marrying at that age, even with parental consent, posed a serious threat to their continued education. Lawmakers feared it would give parents or communities the legal cover to withdraw children from school prematurely.
The debate also drew attention to the state’s investment in the education sector.
Years of public spending on tuition, infrastructure and support services were seen as being undermined if children, particularly girls, were allowed to exit the system prematurely for marriage.
Early withdrawal, critics argued, constituted a form of educational and economic waste.
From both a policy and fiscal standpoint, this posed a significant concern.
Mr A.S.K. Bagbin, then Chair of the Joint Committee on the Children’s Bill and current speaker of Parliament, noted:
“They should therefore not be allowed to be withdrawn from school to get into marriages and other such relationships… Marriage at age 16 will abruptly curtail the educational development of the girl child.”
Beyond the classroom, MPs worried about the ripple effects: childbearing, caregiving, and early domestic responsibilities.
These would make it nearly impossible for young girls to return to school.
“If we allow girls at the age of 16 to be withdrawn from school and given out in marriage, they run the risk of wasting all previous years of education as well as the resources of the government.”
It wasn’t just about individual futures; it was about protecting national investment in education, especially under efforts to achieve universal basic education and gender parity.
Permitting sexual consent at 16 without aligning it with the right to marry, some lawmakers argued, created the risk of unplanned pregnancies that could still derail education only now, without the legal option of marriage.
Legal coherence
At the heart of the 1998 parliamentary debates was a question of legal consistency.
From a legal standpoint, the contradiction between the age of sexual consent (16) and marriage (18) struck many as confusing and inconsistent.
To lawmakers like the then Attorney General, Dr Obed Asamoah, this was more than a technical oversight; it risked dismantling the entire foundation of Ghana’s child protection framework.
“If the proposal under Clause 14(3) is accepted, then the law itself will be encouraging or legalising the unacceptable social practice of child marriages and early betrothals.”
The Children’s Act defines a child as anyone under 18.
Ghana’s Interpretation Act of 1960 defines an “infant” as under 21.
Yet the Criminal Code permits sex at 16.
For legal experts like Dr Asamoah, this was a recipe for confusion and potential exploitation:
“Thus, if enacted into law, consent of a person below 16 years for a sexual act will not be considered appropriate for legal purposes.”
By establishing separate ages for sex and marriage, the law risked sending conflicting messages about maturity, consent, and readiness.
How could someone be considered old enough to make a decision as intimate as consenting to sex, yet not mature enough for a legal commitment like marriage?
In the broader context of the bill, these interventions helped shape the final Act as a strong safeguard against weakening the legal system’s moral and protective foundations.
Parliament sent a clear message: Ghanaian law should not accommodate contradictions that risked undermining its commitment to the rights and welfare of children.
Population Growth
Lawmakers also turned their attention to how early marriage could affect Ghana’s population growth. Lawmakers feared that allowing marriage from age 16 even with parental consent would lead to a spike in adolescent pregnancies, increase overall fertility rates, and place a growing burden on the country’s health care system, education infrastructure, and economic development efforts.
At the center of this concern was the belief that lowering the marriage age would increase the number of young mothers, particularly those without adequate education or access to reproductive health services.
Mrs Gladys Asma, a former Member of Parliament for Takoradi and former Minister for Women and Children’s Affairs, issued a similar caution. Drawing from experience and observation, she stated:
“When a 20-year-old has three children and we allow a 16-year-old to go out and get married… we would not know when it would end.”
Her point reflected a broader concern: the earlier girls entered marriage, the earlier they begun childbearing, resulting in more children over time and reduced opportunities for social mobility.
Mr A.S.K. Bagbin linked population control directly to female education. He pointed out that the more educated a woman was, the more likely she was to use family planning and space her children responsibly.
Biological & Emotional Development
Another pressing concern in the debate was whether a 16-year-old possessed the emotional and biological maturity needed for marriage and parenthood. Lawmakers were divided, not just along party lines but philosophical ones as well.
Written by Bright Appiah
Executive Director, Child Rights International
Citing medical research, Mr A.S.K. Bagbin warned that children born to teenage mothers often faced serious disadvantages, including undernourishment, poor immunisation, and delayed cognitive development. Early motherhood, he said, posed risks not only to young mothers but also to the next generation.
Ms. Theresa A. Tagoe, former Member of Parliament for Ablekuma South constituency, raised these concerns, insisting that physical appearance alone should not be mistaken for readiness.
“…At 16, she is physically not developed, emotionally and mentally not developed for marriage; she is not ready…”
However, others took a more pragmatic view. Mr Akwasi Osei-Adjei, former Member of Parliament for Ejisu-Juaben, dismissed the idea that teenagers lacked the necessary development, arguing instead that biology was proof of readiness.
The contrast between these viewpoints raised a deeper question: Should laws be grounded in physical capacity or in emotional, social, and psychological maturity?
For many, the answer was clear. Marriage, unlike sex, was a long-term commitment that demanded emotional stability, mental preparedness and adult responsibility. And from that perspective, 16 was simply too young.
Cultural Dynamics
Beyond legal definitions and developmental concerns were Ghana’s deep-rooted cultural practices. Some MPs argued that child marriage was already widespread in various communities, and that the law should reflect and regulate this reality rather than pretend it didn’t exist.
Mr F.W.K. Blay, then MP for Ellembelle, shared a striking example:
“Most of the kids in my constituency, particularly the girls around 14 and 16, many of them are out of school and already involved in one form of marriage or the other.”
For Blay and others, Clause 14(3) wasn’t about encouraging early marriage but about acknowledging a practice that was already happening, with or without legal approval.
They saw the clause as a practical tool to bring these unions under the law’s supervision.
The cultural dynamic presented lawmakers with a delicate balance—how to affirm Ghana’s legal commitment to child rights while remaining sensitive to the lived realities of its diverse communities.
Public Opinion
Public sentiment also shaped the contours of the debate. While Parliament held the legal authority, MPs were keenly aware that they were representing the views of their constituents.
In support of removing the clause, some MPs emphasised that the general public did not believe children aged 16 were mature enough for marriage. Mr E.K. Fosu, representing Asikuma/Odoben/Brakwa, cited conversations with his constituents, noting overwhelming opposition to Clause 14(3). He stated:
“…I have interacted with a lot of my constituents on this particular clause 14(3), and in about 99 per cent of the case, what they told me was, in our language, wo nsoo aware.” (Meaning they are not ready to marry).
Fosu's comments reflected a broader public concern that legalising marriage at 16, even with parental consent, would undermine efforts to protect children and ensure their full development before entering into lifelong commitments.
Mr M.A. Seidu, a then Minister of State, also conducted a survey involving girls between the ages of 16 and 18 the demographic most directly affected by the clause.
According to his findings, a significant portion of these young women supported the option to marry before 18.
Seidu’s argument was grounded in the belief that the very group the law sought to protect should have a say in determining its limits.
Age of Sexual Consent
Ghana’s Criminal Code allowed young people to legally consent to sex at 16, yet the proposed Children’s Act set the minimum marriage age at 18. For some, this created an illogical and confusing double standard.
Mr C.O. Nyanor, then MP for Upper Denkyira, stated that
“If the couple is allowed to have sex… why do we at the same time also make a law that you cannot marry and look after your child?”
For supporters of Clause 14(3), it seemed unfair to allow a 16-year-old to legally engage in sex potentially leading to pregnancy but deny them the legal right to marry and support their child in a stable environment.
However, others like Mr A.S.K. Bagbin saw this as precisely why marriage should be treated differently.
He argued that sexual consent does not equate to readiness for the legal, emotional, and financial obligations of marriage.
To Bagbin, the solution was not to harmonise the two ages by lowering the marriage threshold but rather to strengthen legal protections for children.
For them, aligning sexual consent and marriage at 16 would blur the distinction between physical capability and emotional readiness, jeopardising the very protections the Children’s Act was meant to guarantee.
This debate, which echoed through the corridors of Parliament more than two decades ago, still resonates today.
The same questions that dominated the legislative floor in 1998 about maturity, protection, legal coherence and the rights of children are once again at the forefront of national reflection.
During the recent vetting of judicial nominees, Justices Sir Dennis Adjei and Philip Bright Mensah were asked about the gap between the age of consent and the legal age for marriage.
Their responses brought renewed attention to this long-standing issue, suggesting that the matter is far from settled. Both judges acknowledged that the inconsistency between permitting sex at 16 but requiring marriage at 18 raises complex questions about legal coherence and child welfare.
Whiles one wants the law changed the other wants the status quo to remain as it is in the law.
In today’s Ghana, where conversations around child protection, gender equity, and youth development have evolved significantly, the core question remains: does the current legal framework still serve Ghana’s children in today’s contemporary context? Or is it time for a review?
Written by Bright Appiah
Executive Director, Child Rights International
