On September 11, 2025, Accra’s Kotoka International Airport saw the quiet arrival of 14 West African migrants—most of them Nigerians, with at least one Gambian—deported from the United States under President Donald Trump’s controversial immigration policy. Ghana’s decision to accept these deportees, and its new role as a transit hub for West African migrants expelled from the U.S., has put the small West African nation at the center of a heated international debate over immigration, regional cooperation, and human rights.
The group’s arrival marked the first time Ghana has formally participated in the Trump administration’s expanding deportation program, which seeks to return thousands of undocumented migrants to their home countries or, increasingly, to third-country transit hubs across Africa. According to Reuters, President John Dramani Mahama confirmed that the deportees had landed in Accra as part of an agreement brokered with Washington. "We were approached by the U.S. to accept third-party nationals who were being removed from the U.S., and we agreed with them that West African nationals were acceptable because all our fellow West Africans don’t need a visa to come to our country," Mahama told reporters.
Mahama’s comments, echoed in a BBC interview, underscored Ghana’s commitment to regional obligations. He explained that the country’s participation was grounded in the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) Protocol on Free Movement, which allows citizens of member states to enter and remain in other West African countries visa-free for up to 90 days. "West Africa has the protocol of free movement, and so any West African is free to come to Ghana and stay for 90 days," Mahama said. "If they’re bringing our colleagues back, we have no problem accepting them."
For the deportees themselves, the journey was far from over. Ghanaian authorities provided bus transportation for the Nigerian nationals to return to their home country, while Gambian deportees were to coordinate with their embassy in Accra for onward travel. The Ghanaian government was clear: its role was as a temporary transit point, not a final destination. As Mahama put it, "If they decide to travel from the U.S. to Accra, they don’t need a visa anyway. So if you’re bringing our colleague West Africans back, that’s okay."
This pragmatic approach, however, has not gone unchallenged. Migrant advocates and human rights groups have voiced concern about the safety and well-being of deportees sent to countries that may lack the resources to support them or where they may face uncertain, even dangerous, conditions. According to Reuters, the case of Kilmar Abrego Garcia—who fought deportation amid threats of being sent to Uganda or Eswatini—has come to symbolize the risks involved. His lawyers argued that U.S. authorities attempted to pressure him into a plea deal by threatening relocation to countries where he feared persecution.
The Trump administration’s broader strategy of striking deportation deals with African governments has been swift and, at times, contentious. In July 2025, five migrants were deported to Eswatini and eight to South Sudan. The following month, seven more arrived in Rwanda after Kigali agreed to accept as many as 250 deportees over time. Ghana’s entry into this list of cooperating nations, alongside Rwanda, Uganda, South Sudan, and Eswatini, highlights a growing trend: the U.S. is increasingly looking to Africa as a solution to its immigration enforcement challenges.
The political calculus behind these deals is complex. Some African nations, like Nigeria, have resisted U.S. overtures, citing political and legal concerns. Others, like Ghana, have justified their participation on the grounds of regional solidarity and legal frameworks like the ECOWAS Protocol. President Mahama, for his part, framed the decision as a matter of practicality and regional cooperation, rather than a capitulation to U.S. pressure. "If they’re bringing our colleagues back, we have no problem accepting them," he reiterated during his media encounter at Jubilee House in Accra.
Yet, the policy’s roll-out has been anything but smooth. Many Ghanaians have raised questions about the long-term implications of the agreement. What happens if the number of deportees increases? Will Ghana be forced to shoulder a greater burden if other West African nations refuse to cooperate? And, most importantly, what protections are in place for the migrants themselves?
Meanwhile, in Washington, President Trump has doubled down on his hardline immigration agenda. According to a report released on September 10, 2025, by the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office (CBO), Trump’s plans for mass deportations and other enforcement measures are projected to result in the removal of approximately 320,000 people from the United States over the next ten years. The CBO’s analysis, reported by Reuters, found that 290,000 immigrants could be forcibly removed, with an additional 30,000 leaving voluntarily. Trump’s tax and spending law, passed in July 2025, allocated about $150 billion over four years to support these efforts—covering everything from an expanded southern border wall to new detention centers and thousands of additional law enforcement staff.
The consequences of these policies extend far beyond the individuals directly affected. The CBO warned that the U.S. population will grow more slowly than previously projected, in part due to lower immigration and a declining fertility rate. By 2035, the U.S. population is expected to be 4.5 million lower than earlier estimates. The CBO also noted that deaths are projected to outnumber births by 2031, two years earlier than previously thought. The demographic shift means fewer people in the prime working-age group of 25 to 54, a trend that could have significant implications for the U.S. economy and labor force.
Democrats in Congress have been quick to sound the alarm, warning that mass deportations could harm the U.S. economy and drive up prices for everyday goods. President Trump, on the other hand, has touted his desire for a "baby boom" and floated ideas for encouraging Americans to have more children—a goal the CBO found little evidence to support.
Back in Ghana, the debate continues. While President Mahama’s government insists that its participation in the deportation agreement is both legal and consistent with regional obligations, critics argue that the policy risks turning Ghana into a dumping ground for migrants unwanted by the U.S. or their own home countries. Human rights organizations warn that without adequate safeguards, deportees could face exploitation, discrimination, or worse.
For now, Ghana’s experiment as a transit hub for U.S. deportees is just beginning. The coming months will reveal whether the government can balance its regional commitments with the need to protect vulnerable migrants—and whether the Trump administration’s gamble on African partnerships will pay off, or backfire, on both sides of the Atlantic.
