What Ghana’s foreign‑built landmarks tell us about its global relationships

Irene Appeaning Addo, University of Ghana

The call to prayer echoes across the neighbourhood as people congregate under the sweeping domes and tall minarets of Ghana’s National Mosque in Accra. For many, it is a place of faith, community and national pride. Yet, few pause to consider that this landmark – now firmly part of Accra’s skyline – was funded and built by Turkey.

This detail points to a bigger story. Some of Ghana’s most important public buildings are shaped by global relationships as much as local needs. And those relationships are not just economic; they are deeply political.

Therefore buildings are not just functional. They are powerful expressions of political power, used to describe and project ideas about hierarchy, state authority, solidarity and modernity.

As a result, architecture can be used to explore the identity and ideology of African states and international partners who choose to finance or donate new buildings to Africa featuring western architectural aesthetics.

I am a scholar of African architecture. I collaborated with scholars from different areas of expertise, including political scientists, on a project that studied the connection between architecture and power in Africa. From Ghana, two projects were used to illustrate international relations in architecture, highlighting the interplay of power and agency. One was the National Mosque and the other was the seat of Ghana’s government, Jubilee House, an edifice funded by the government of India.

Ghana and India’s ties can be traced to their co-founding of the Non-Aligned Movement. These were a group of states not formally aligned with major power blocs during the cold war. Ghana and Turkey’s relationship goes as far back as 1957. Turkey is one of the leading investors in Ghana’s economy.

Our work established that when a country finances and constructs a major building abroad, it leaves a visible and lasting imprint on another nation’s landscape. The building becomes part of everyday life while reflecting the influence of its external sponsor. These buildings normalise the presence of the sponsoring nation and are a constant reminder of its political interests.

History written in buildings

Foreigners have been shaping Ghana’s built environment for centuries, from colonial forts along the coast to post-independence modernist projects designed by international architects.

Ghana’s architecture tells a layered story of power and exchange. During the colonial era, Europeans constructed forts and castles that dominated coastal landscapes. These were not just military structures; they were symbols of control and gateways to global trade networks, including the transatlantic slave trade. Sections of these buildings were later repurposed as schools, embedding education within spaces marked by violence and coercion.

This dual legacy highlights how architecture can carry multiple, often conflicting meanings over time.

After independence, Ghana sought to project a new national identity through modern architecture.

Foreign architects were commissioned to design housing, universities and civic buildings that would signal progress and global relevance. This moment reflected both aspiration and dependence: a desire to appear modern on the world stage, combined with reliance on external expertise and resources.

‘Soft power’

Today, Ghana continues to engage with global partners through architecture and infrastructure development. The National Mosque is one example. Backed by Turkey with the active involvement of Ghanaian Muslims, it represents both religious solidarity and diplomatic outreach underpinned by local agency.

Its scale, design and prominence make it a visible marker of Turkey’s presence in Ghana. The National Mosque Complex is modelled after the Ottoman-era Sultan Ahmed Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey. The national mosque in Accra features domes, semi-domes and arcaded porticos. These are the characteristics of Ottoman architecture, a predominant classical style for mosques in Turkey and the Islamic world.

Another example of political “gift” is Jubilee House, the seat of government. While financed and constructed with support from India, it incorporates the form of the Akan stool, a deeply significant symbol of authority in Ghanaian culture. This blending of external funding with local agency and symbolism shows that these projects are not simply imposed. They are shaped through negotiation.

Across the continent, similar patterns can be seen. China has funded major government buildings, including the African Union headquarters in Addis Ababa and the Zimbabwe parliamentary complex. These projects are often described as “gifts”, but they also reflect strategic relationships and long-term influence. Political scientist Innocent Batsani-Ncube has illustrated how China’s large-scale investment in the Zimbabwe parliament is used as a proxy for its sustained activities in and around African parliamentary institutions.

Ghana’s case

It is easy to view foreign-funded infrastructure as purely beneficial, especially given Ghana’s development needs. But architecture is never neutral. Buildings embody power relationships in terms of the scale, materiality, the architectural features and the location in urban areas.

They reflect who has the resources to design, finance and construct, and whose ideas are ultimately realised in physical form. A mosque, a parliament or a presidential palace is not just a functional space; it is a statement about identity, legitimacy and global belonging of both the sponsor and the recipient country. In this sense, architecture becomes part of diplomacy. It is a way of making relationships visible – and durable.

Describing these projects simply as soft power, however, does not capture the full picture. Soft power theory often assumes that influence flows smoothly from powerful countries to less powerful ones.

Ghana’s experience suggests something more complex. Buildings cannot simply be “exported” like films or fashion. They are rooted in specific places, histories and communities. This creates friction.

For example, Ghana’s engagement with foreign-built projects often involves negotiation over design, symbolism and use. Local government officials, religious leaders and communities play a role in shaping outcomes.

In the case of the National Mosque, Ghanaian Muslim communities were not passive recipients. Their advocacy and social influence were crucial to the project’s realisation. Similarly, the incorporation of the Akan stool in Jubilee House reflects an effort to assert cultural identity. These examples show that foreign influence is most often mediated by local contexts.

Ghanaian actors’ agency in these processes has limits, however. Many decisions about large-scale projects are made by political elites. As a result, the interests reflected in these buildings may not represent the broader population.

These examples point to broader questions. Do foreign-funded buildings contribute to long-term development, or are they primarily symbolic? How can Ghana ensure that such projects reflect local priorities and needs? And what does it mean to build a national identity in a world shaped by global partnerships?

The links among soft power, public and cultural diplomacy, and development across the continent will continue to be subjects of research.

International relations scholars Joanne Tomkinson and Julia Gallagher contributed to the research that this article is derived from.

Irene Appeaning Addo, Associate Professor of African Architecture, University of Ghana

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