By Isaac Osei-Owusu

Introduction

A storm is brewing in Ghana’s Parliament — one that touches on biology, identity, family, and the very architecture of constitutional rights. In April 2026, two Private Member’s Bills

emerged from the legislature proposing, among other things, that every child born in a

Ghanaian healthcare facility be subjected to compulsory DNA paternity testing before a

birth certificate is issued. The proposals have ignited fierce public debate, drawing support

from those who see them as a weapon against “paternity fraud” and fierce condemnation

from legal scholars, constitutional lawyers, and child rights advocates who argue the bills

are discriminatory, legally incoherent, and constitutionally untenable.

This article examines the legal implications of the proposed legislation from a Ghanaian and

comparative constitutional law perspective — analysing its potential impact on constitutional rights, the existing legal framework for parentage, the rights of children, and the broader rule-of-law considerations that must inform this debate.

 

Background: The Bills in Parliament

 

The debate traces its origins to two separate legislative initiatives. The first was introduced

by Yakubu Mohammed, MP for Ahafo Ano South East, proposing that every child born in

Ghana receive a paternity test before a birth certificate is issued, on the stated ground of

“enhancing trust between partners” and ensuring fathers take responsibility. The second, by Kwame Asare Obeng (popularly known as A Plus), the MP for Gomoa Central, goes further still — seeking to criminalise “paternity fraud” and impose prison terms on women who“deliberately impose pregnancies on innocent men.”

 

It is important to clarify one significant fact that has been obscured in widespread social

media coverage: a fact-check by DUBAWA Ghana found that the Paternity Fraud

(Criminalisation) Bill, 2026 — the A Plus bill — contains no provision explicitly mandating

DNA testing for all newborns. The bill’s own sponsor has stated, “I am advocating for the

criminalisation of paternity fraud, not mandatory paternity testing.” Much of the public alarm has therefore been driven by the MP’s earlier public statements and media coverage, rather than the bill’s actual text. Nonetheless, the Mohammed bill — which does explicitly call for universal paternity testing at birth — remains live, and the totality of the legislative debate demands serious legal scrutiny.

 

Constitutional Concerns

  1. The Right to Privacy and Bodily Autonomy

Ghana’s 1992 Constitution, under Article 18(2), guarantees every person the right to privacy

of “home, property, correspondence, or communication.” Courts and scholars have long

extended the principle of privacy to bodily integrity. A mandatory DNA test imposed on

every newborn — and by extension on the mother whose biological material is necessarily

implicated — constitutes a non-consensual extraction of sensitive genetic information by

the state. This is not a trivial intrusion. Genetic data is among the most intimate categories

of personal information that exist, capable of revealing not only parentage but susceptibility

to disease, ethnic lineage, and other deeply personal characteristics.

No compelling state interest — certainly not one as broadly and vaguely defined as

“enhancing trust between partners” — is capable of overriding so fundamental a right in a

manner consistent with constitutional proportionality. The bill does not target specific

circumstances of doubt or dispute; it targets every birth, on every occasion, everywhere in

Ghana. This blanket imposition fails the basic test of necessity: a far less restrictive

alternative already exists, as Ghana’s courts are available to resolve genuine paternity

disputes on a case-by-case basis.

  1. Structural Discrimination Against Women

The proposal is structurally discriminatory on its face. It mandates proof of paternity while

treating maternity as presumptively unquestionable — a distinction that, in practice,

operates as a legislative presumption of maternal deceit. The bill does not impose any

equivalent burden on fathers; it imposes a singular suspicion on mothers, enforced by the

full coercive apparatus of the state at the very moment of birth.

Ghana’s Constitution prohibits discrimination on the basis of gender under Article 17. A law

that selectively imposes the burden of biological proof on mothers, requiring them to

vindicate their own honesty before the state will issue their child a birth certificate, is on its

face incompatible with that prohibition. Critics have aptly characterised it as an

“institutionalisation of distrust directed at women.”

  1. The Rights of the Child

This may be the most compelling legal objection of all. Ghana is a signatory to the United

Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (UNCRC) and the African Charter on the

Rights and Welfare of the Child, both of which require that the best interests of the child be

the primary consideration in all legislative and administrative action concerning children.

The Children’s Act, 1998 (Act 560) enshrines the same principle in domestic law.

Subjecting every newborn to genetic testing as a precondition for birth registration directly

subordinates the interests of children to the interests of adult men who harbour doubts

about paternity. The child has committed no wrong. The child has no say. Yet it is the child

who, under this scheme, begins life not with a presumption of belonging and identity but

with a bureaucratic question mark hanging over its legal existence until biology is verified by the state. This is not a child-centred framework — it is an adult-dispute mechanism imposed on the most vulnerable persons in the legal system.

The Existing Legal Framework: Why the Bill Is Unnecessary

Ghana already possesses a coherent, child-centred legal architecture for determining

parentage. Section 32 of the Evidence Act, 1975 (NRCD 323) establishes a presumption

that a child born within marriage is the husband’s child — a presumption designed not to

deny biology, but to protect the child from legal uncertainty at birth. Sections 40 to 42 of

the Children’s Act, 1998, and Section 47(1)(f) of the Courts Act, 1993 (Act 459) provide

judicially supervised mechanisms through which genuine disputes over parentage may be

resolved. These provisions place the welfare of the child at the centre of any determination.

Men who harbour sincere doubts about paternity are not without remedy. Private DNA

testing is accessible, and the courts stand ready to resolve disputes. What the bill proposes

— mandatory state-administered testing of every newborn — is not a gap-filler. It is an

entirely unnecessary disruption of a well-functioning legal framework, driven not by

evidence of systemic failure but by social media anxiety and political theatre.

 

The Criminalisation Dimension: A Deeply Troubled Concept

 

The A Plus bill’s proposal to criminalise “paternity fraud” introduces a further set of

profound legal difficulties. Criminal liability requires, as a foundational principle, proof of a

guilty mind (mens rea). A woman who is genuinely uncertain of paternity — who may herself

be unaware that a biological discrepancy exists — cannot, in any principled legal sense, be

said to have committed fraud. Criminalising the mere fact of a biological mismatch, without

proof of deliberate deception, would expose women to imprisonment for circumstances that are not, by any orthodox definition, criminal.

 

There is also a dangerous ambiguity in the phrase “deliberately impose pregnancies on

innocent men.” Pregnancy is a biological condition, not a legal act. Attaching criminal liability to it — without narrowly and carefully defining the prohibited conduct — risks criminalising a vast range of intimate behaviour and reproductive decisions in ways that would be both repugnant to constitutional values and unenforceable in practice.

Furthermore, the concept of “paternity fraud” as currently framed conflates biological fact

with deliberate deception. A woman who genuinely does not know the identity of a child’s

biological father has not committed fraud in any legally recognisable sense. The criminal law must not be weaponised to punish uncertainty.

 

Practical and Fiscal Implications

Beyond the constitutional objections lies a profound practical one. Universal DNA testing of

every newborn born in a Ghanaian healthcare facility would impose an enormous fiscal

burden. As a Private Member’s Bill, such legislation cannot lawfully draw on the

Consolidated Fund under Ghana’s constitutional rules on money bills. This means the cost

would fall either on the state through a separate appropriation or — more troublingly — on

new parents themselves, who are already bearing hospital and postnatal expenses.

Forcing families to finance the biological verification of their own integrity as a condition of

their child receiving a birth certificate is not merely administratively absurd. It is regressive.

It would fall most heavily on the poorest Ghanaians and risks incentivising births outside

formal healthcare facilities, with devastating consequences for maternal and child health

outcomes. Ghana has spent decades expanding institutional delivery rates; a policy that

creates a financial or psychological deterrent to hospital births would undo much of that

hard-won progress.

 

The Cultural Context: Social Media, Moral Panic, and Legislative Responsibility

It would be a disservice to this debate to ignore the cultural forces driving it. The proposals

did not emerge from a careful review of evidence or a documented pattern of legal failure.

They emerged, in significant part, from the amplifying effects of social media. TikTok and

YouTube have turned paternity disputes into public spectacles, and in February 2026

Parliament itself trended as a “DNA lab” following unverified rumours about two MPs.

Ghana’s legislature risks legislating in response to viral content rather than demonstrated

legal need.

This is a troubling pattern. The role of Parliament is not to validate social media outrage but

to deliberate carefully, weigh evidence, and enact laws that are constitutionally sound,

practically workable, and genuinely in the public interest. The rush to criminalise and

mandate in this area reflects a failure of that deliberative function.

Conclusion: What Ghana Actually Needs

The legal case against mandatory universal DNA testing at birth is compelling on multiple

fronts: it violates constitutional privacy rights, is structurally discriminatory against women,

subordinates the best interests of children to the grievances of adults, disrupts a coherent

existing legal framework, is fiscally unworkable, and creates criminal liability without a

principled legal foundation.

None of this means that the concerns motivating the bills are entirely without merit.

Paternity disputes can cause genuine harm — emotional, financial, and relational. But the

remedy must be proportionate, targeted, and constitutionally grounded. That means

strengthening access to judicial dispute resolution, not imposing blanket suspicion on every

mother at the moment of birth. It means crafting a narrow, carefully defined criminal offence for proven deliberate deception — not a sweeping provision that criminalises the biological complexity of human reproduction.

Ghana’s legal tradition is a proud one. Its Constitution is a sophisticated document; its

judiciary has shown itself capable of principled reasoning on difficult matters. The

legislature owes it to that tradition — and above all to the children who will be born under

whatever law it enacts — to reject these proposals in their current form and pursue reform

that is worthy of the Constitution they are sworn to uphold.

Isaac Osei-Owusu is a legal analyst writing on Ghanaian constitutional and family law. The

views expressed in this article are his own.

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