The bulldozers have done what Ghanaian bulldozers often do best: reduce years of investment, livelihoods and legal arguments to piles of rubble, and leave the public asking questions that should have been answered long before the machines arrived.
The recent demolition of structures along the Labadi beachfront has reignited an uncomfortable question: who actually owns the beach? Is it the community? The traditional authority? The state? The hotel? Or does the public have rights over the beachfront that cannot simply be converted into private commercial space? The question is important because the Labadi demolition did not happen in isolation. The recent demolitions at Laboma Beach, where structures were cleared from the Kpeshie Lagoon buffer area, raised similar questions about how developments are allowed to emerge in environmentally sensitive areas in the first place.
At Labadi, structures including Polo Beach Club and other businesses were demolished following a request from Labadi Beach Hotel. SSNIT, which holds the hotels as part of its investment portfolio, has said the clearance was necessary to address unlawful occupation and encroachment and protect assets belonging ultimately to Ghanaian workers and pensioners. But that explanation creates another question: If these structures were illegal or unauthorised, why were they allowed to remain for so long? And if some operators obtained permits, who issued them and on what basis?
A PERMIT IS NOT OWNERSHIP
There is considerable confusion about what a development or building permit actually means. Under Ghana’s planning laws, physical development requires approval from the appropriate planning authority. A building permit allows construction in accordance with approved plans and regulations. But neither automatically makes the applicant the owner of the land. Before granting development permission, authorities should establish the applicant’s legitimate interest in the land and assess issues including land-use designation, building plans, environmental considerations, drainage, access and other planning requirements.
So when a business produces a permit, the question should not simply be: “Do you have a permit?” It should be: “On what land was the permit issued, what was the land designated for, and who verified that the applicant had the right to develop it?” If an Assembly issued permits for structures later declared to be in a protected buffer zone or on land the occupants had no right to develop, then the public deserves an explanation.
WHO OWNS THE BEACHFRONT?
The phrase “beachfront” sounds simple, but Ghana’s land-tenure system is anything but. A beachfront can involve different legal interests, including customary land, public land, vested land, private interests and environmentally protected areas. The existence of a traditional land interest does not automatically mean everything extending toward the sea can be sold or leased for private development. Equally, the fact that a hotel owns land beside the beach does not automatically mean it owns every piece of land or sand in front of it. That is why the Labadi dispute requires documents, not competing claims.
If the disputed strip is government land, where is the instrument establishing that status? If it is customary land, what is the recognised customary interest? If it was leased by the La Stool, what exactly was leased and under what authority? If it falls within a protected coastal buffer, what planning or environmental instrument establishes that restriction? These are questions for the Lands Commission, planning authorities and, where necessary, the courts.
TRADITIONAL AUTHORITIES CANNOT SELL EVERYTHING
The Labadi dispute also exposes a misunderstanding about customary land. Traditional authorities have an important role in Ghana’s land system, but customary authority does not mean unlimited power to dispose of every piece of land for every purpose. Some stool lands may be vested in the state while the stool retains the beneficial interest. Land transactions must also comply with statutory requirements, planning laws and environmental restrictions. The era in which someone could simply say, “This is stool land, so I can sell it,” cannot be the basis for modern urban development. If traditional authorities have leased portions of beachfront land, the public should be able to establish what interest they had and whether they had the legal authority to grant that lease.
THE BUFFER ZONE QUESTION
Another important issue is the coastal buffer. A beach is not simply vacant land waiting for development. Coastal areas perform environmental, drainage, recreational and public-access functions. The Laboma demolitions demonstrated the consequences of building in environmentally sensitive areas. Authorities said structures there were interfering with the natural water system and were within the Kpeshie Lagoon buffer.
But the same question must follow every demolition: Where were the authorities when the structures were being built? Why were businesses allowed to invest? Why were permits issued, if permits were issued? Why were fees or other charges collected? Why did enforcement wait until businesses had become established and livelihoods depended on them?
If the law reserves an area as a buffer, nobody should be allowed to develop it simply because they have money, connections or a permit obtained through an administrative process. But if authorities knew the area was protected, they must also explain how the development happened in the first place.
WHERE WERE THE ASSEMBLIES?
This is where Ghana’s Assemblies continue to disappoint. The Metropolitan, Municipal and District Assemblies are not spectators in land-use management. They are central to planning, permitting, inspection and enforcement. So where were they when the first block was laid? Where were the physical planners? Where were the building inspectors? Where was the planning committee? Where was the enforcement notice? Where was the Lands Commission? Where were the environmental concerns? The public cannot be told for years that a development is acceptable and then suddenly be told that it has always been illegal. That is not effective planning. It is administrative failure. The Laboma and Labadi cases should force Assemblies to examine how developments in sensitive coastal areas are approved and monitored.
THE POLO BEACH CLUB DISPUTE
The dispute between Polo Beach Club and Labadi Beach Hotel makes the matter even more complicated. Polo Beach Club has maintained that it holds a lease from the La Stool and obtained permits from the La Dade-Kotopon Municipal Assembly. Labadi Beach Hotel, on the other hand, has argued that the beachfront constitutes a buffer zone and that the club was constructed without the requisite approvals. The competing claims have been the subject of legal proceedings. That is precisely why the courts matter. If ownership and development rights are disputed, the law should determine the matter, not bulldozers. A court case should not become irrelevant simply because one party has greater access to state power.
BUT WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG?
This may be the most uncomfortable question for Labadi Beach Hotel. If the beachfront posed such a serious problem to the hotel’s operations, privacy, security and investment, why did it take so long to act? These businesses did not appear overnight. Structures grew. Customers came. Workers were employed. Investments were made. Some operators say they obtained official permits and entered into agreements they believed were legitimate. So what changed? Was there a new assessment? A new interpretation of the land title? A new investment plan? Or did the hotel simply decide it wanted the beachfront back? If the structures were unlawful, enforcement may have been justified. But the delay raises questions about why the issue was not addressed when the first structures appeared.
WHAT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE LOST THEIR LIVELIHOODS?
Behind every demolished structure are people. Waiters. Cooks. Cleaners. Security guards. Event planners. Suppliers. Musicians. Drivers. Small business owners. At Labadi, affected operators have reported significant financial losses and job losses. That is not merely a land dispute. It is a livelihood crisis. If the structures were illegal, that does not mean enforcement should be careless or inhumane. Were businesses given adequate notice? Were movable assets protected? Were legitimate operators distinguished from unlawful occupants? What happens to workers who have suddenly lost their jobs?
Compensation must also be approached carefully. Not everyone whose structure is demolished automatically has a legal right to compensation. But neither should government ignore people who acquired legitimate interests, obtained official approvals or invested based on representations from public institutions. Where compensation is legally due, the process should be transparent and fair. Where it is not, government should still consider appropriate transitional measures for genuinely affected livelihoods.
THE BIGGER PROBLEM
Labadi is not simply about one hotel, one beach club or one traditional authority. It exposes Ghana’s broader problem with development. We allow buildings to rise first and ask questions later. We allow development near wetlands, lagoons and waterways and only act when flooding becomes a crisis. We allow businesses to establish themselves and later discover that the land is “unauthorised.” Then, years later, we send bulldozers and security personnel to enforce laws that should have been enforced from the beginning. We permit development to happen first and regulate it afterwards. That is not sustainable planning. And the people who suffer are often ordinary Ghanaians who invested their savings, borrowed money, created jobs and trusted public institutions to do their jobs.
SO, WHO REALLY OWNS THE LABADI BEACHFRONT?
The honest answer is that this cannot be settled by public opinion, political statements or the presence of a hotel. It must be determined by land documents, surveys, planning records, statutory reservations and, where there is a dispute, the courts. A hotel beside a beach does not automatically own the entire beachfront. But neither does a traditional authority automatically have unrestricted power to lease every part of the coastal area. And a building permit does not turn an unauthorised occupation into lawful ownership. What Ghana needs now is transparency. Let the Lands Commission clarify the registered interests. Let the Assembly disclose what permits were issued and to whom. Let the planning authorities explain whether the disputed area falls within a protected buffer. Let traditional authorities clarify the basis of any leases granted. Let the courts determine contested ownership claims. And let government explain what happens to businesses and workers whose livelihoods have been destroyed.
The real question is not only “Who owns the beach?” It is also: Who approved the development? Who inspected it? Who collected the fees? Who knew? Who failed to act? And who will take responsibility for the consequences? Until Ghana starts answering those questions before the bulldozers arrive, we will continue to build first, demolish later, and call it development.

