With Bamidele Kolawole
Nigeria’s cyberspace has become as combustible as it is connected. With the anonymity of social media and the speed at which content travels, fake news and defamatory speech now carry consequences that can outpace the law designed to restrain them. This piece examines the harm caused by such content, explores the statutory and common-law framework governing it, and considers whether Nigeria’s regulatory response has struck the right balance between maintaining order and protecting freedom of expression.
As social media continues to shape public discourse, the distinction between legitimate criticism, freedom of expression and unlawful publication has become increasingly important. The ease with which unverified information can be created and widely disseminated raises significant legal and societal concerns, particularly where such information damages an individual’s reputation or threatens public confidence.
Below are the reactions and perspectives of legal experts:
Socio-culturally, in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with truth, and the Word was truth. From the dawn of human civilisation, across every culture and clime, the spoken and written word has carried within it the awesome power to build empires or tear them asunder, to heal the broken spirit or wound the innocent soul, to illuminate the path of justice or cast shadows of deception upon the land. It is this sacred power of words that makes the spreading of fake news and defamatory speeches not merely a legal transgression, but a profound moral failing a cultural wickedness that strikes at the very heart of what it means to be human.
To understand the depth of this moral failing, one must look to the ancient wisdom of the Yoruba people, among whom I proudly count myself. In the rich tapestry of Yoruba culture, there exists a concept of profound ethical significance: Ọmọlúwàbí. This is not merely a word; it is a way of life, a philosophy of character, a standard of conduct that elevates the individual above the base instincts of selfishness and deceit. The Ọmọlúwàbí is one who embodies ìwà pẹ̀lẹ́ gentle character; one whose tongue speaks truth even when falsehood would be more profitable; one whose hands do no harm to the reputation of another; one whose heart beats in rhythm with the collective well-being of the community. The Ọmọlúwàbí understands that a person’s name is their most precious inheritance, that reputation is the shadow that follows a person long after their physical form has returned to the earth, and that to speak falsely against another is to commit an act of spiritual violence that reverberates across generations.
Fake news and defamatory speeches, therefore, are not merely offences against the statutes of the land. They are an affront to the Ọmọlúwàbí culture. They represent the triumph of the elder without wisdom, the person of influence who uses their platform not to enlighten but to deceive. They embody the character of the hater, the one who speaks with a forked tongue, who sows discord in the community, who trades in the currency of falsehood for personal gain or malicious satisfaction. In the traditional Yoruba worldview, such a person is not merely shunned; they are considered a threat to the social fabric itself, for the Yoruba know that when the foundation of truth is eroded, the entire house of society collapses upon itself.
But this cultural wickedness extends far beyond the boundaries of any single ethnic tradition. It is offensive against humanity in its universal dignity. Every human being, by virtue of their humanity, possesses an inherent worth that demands respect. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights recognises this truth when it proclaims that all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. When one spreads fake news about another, when one utters defamatory words that cast aspersions upon a person’s character, one does not merely injure that individual. One assaults the very concept of human dignity itself. One reduces a fellow human being created in the image of the divine, bearer of infinite worth—to a caricature of falsehood, a puppet of malicious narrative, a victim of words that wound deeper than any blade.
Moreover, fake news and defamatory speeches violate the social well-being of humanity itself. Society is not a mere collection of individuals; it is a living organism, a delicate ecosystem of trust and mutual reliance. Like the human body, society functions only when its constituent parts operate in harmony, when information flows like blood through its veins, nourishing every cell with truth and clarity. Fake news is a toxin in this bloodstream. It is the cancer that metastasises through the body politic, corrupting the organs of governance, paralyzing the limbs of commerce, and attacking the very immune system of social cohesion. When citizens cannot distinguish truth from falsehood, when the information environment is polluted with deliberate deception, the social contract itself begins to unravel. Democracy, which depends upon an informed citizenry making rational choices, withers under the assault of manipulated narratives. Peace, which requires mutual understanding and a shared reality, crumbles when competing fictions replace common truth. Progress, which demands collective action based on accurate assessments of challenges, stalls when falsehoods distort our perception of reality.
In the Nigerian context, these dangers are not theoretical abstractions. We have witnessed, with painful frequency, how fake news has inflamed ethnic tensions, incited violence, undermined public health efforts, and distorted electoral processes. We have seen how a single false tweet, a fabricated video or a malicious rumour can cascade through social media platforms, leaving in its wake destroyed reputations, fractured communities and, sometimes, even lost lives. The digital age, for all its blessings of connectivity and democratised expression, has also created unprecedented opportunities for the weaponisation of information. The same platforms that allow a young entrepreneur in Lagos to reach global markets also enable anonymous actors to launch coordinated disinformation campaigns. The same tools that empower citizen journalists to expose corruption also facilitate the manufacture and dissemination of elaborate falsehoods designed to destroy the innocent.
It is against this backdrop that the Nigerian legal framework has evolved, seeking to strike that delicate balance between protecting the fundamental right to freedom of expression and safeguarding the equally fundamental rights to dignity, reputation and social order. This legal regime, while imperfect and in need of continuous refinement, represents a serious attempt to impose accountability upon the digital wilderness.
The foundational document of our legal order, the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended), enshrines freedom of expression as a fundamental human right under Section 39. This provision guarantees to every Nigerian the right to freely express themselves, to hold opinions, and to receive and impart ideas and information without interference. It is a right of transcendent importance—the oxygen of democracy, the shield of the powerless against the powerful, and the instrument by which society holds its leaders accountable and citizens engage in the robust exchange of ideas that fuels progress. But the Constitution, in its wisdom, recognises that no right is absolute, and that the unfettered exercise of one person’s freedom must not become the instrument of another person’s destruction. Section 45(1) of the Constitution therefore permits reasonable restrictions on fundamental rights, including freedom of expression, provided such restrictions are justifiable in a democratic society in the interest of public order, public morality, public health, or for the purpose of protecting the rights and freedoms of other persons. Section 34(1) further protects the dignity of every person, creating a constitutional counterweight that prevents the abuse of expression from trampling upon the essential worth of the human person.
It is within this constitutional architecture that the law of defamation finds its legitimate place. Defamation, at its core, is the publication of a false statement that injures the reputation of another. Nigerian law recognises two species of this tort: libel, which is defamation in permanent form, such as writing, print or digital publication; and slander, which is defamation in transient form, typically spoken words or gestures. The distinction is not merely academic. Libel is treated with greater severity because of its enduring nature, its capacity for widespread dissemination and the permanence of the harm it inflicts. In the digital age, this distinction has taken on renewed significance, for every social media post, every blog entry and every WhatsApp broadcast is a form of libel—permanent, searchable and capable of infinite replication.
The statutory framework for addressing defamation in Nigeria is found in the Criminal Code Act, applicable in the Southern states, and the Penal Code Act, applicable in the Northern states. Sections 373 to 381 of the Criminal Code define defamatory matter as any expression likely to expose a person to hatred, contempt or ridicule, or to damage their professional or business reputation. The breadth of this definition is striking in its recognition that defamation is not limited to direct falsehoods but extends to insinuations, ironies and implications that achieve the same destructive effect. The Criminal Code similarly criminalises defamation, reflecting a national consensus that the protection of reputation is a matter of public importance warranting the sanction of the criminal law.
However, it is the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015 that most directly addresses the specific challenges of fake news and defamatory speeches in the digital realm. Section 24 of this Act criminalises the knowing transmission of false messages through computer systems for purposes such as causing annoyance, insult, hatred, ill will or injury to another person. This provision represents a legislative recognition that the internet is not a lawless frontier but a space where legal accountability must follow digital conduct. The Act imposes substantial penalties, including fines and imprisonment, upon conviction, signalling the seriousness with which Nigerian law regards online defamation and disinformation.
The judicial approach to defamation in Nigeria has been marked by a consistent commitment to protecting reputation while remaining mindful of the constitutional imperative of free expression. Nigerian courts have held that, to succeed in a defamation claim, a claimant must establish the existence of a false statement of fact, publication to a third party, fault on the part of the defendant, and resulting damage to reputation. The courts have insisted on strict proof of these elements, particularly the requirement that the claimant must be clearly identifiable as the person defamed. They have adopted the standard of the reasonable person: would reasonable persons, familiar with the circumstances, understand the words as referring to the claimant and as lowering their reputation in the estimation of right-thinking members of society?
In landmark decisions, the Nigerian judiciary has affirmed that public officials must tolerate a higher degree of criticism than private citizens, recognising that democratic accountability requires robust scrutiny of those who hold public power. In Arthur Nwankwo v. The State, the courts warned that criminal sanctions for defamation could be weaponised to silence the press and suppress democratic participation, a concern that resonates with particular force in the digital era, where the line between citizen and journalist has blurred. Yet the courts have also been clear that this heightened tolerance for criticism does not extend to false statements of fact made with malicious intent or reckless disregard for the truth. The law draws a line, fine but firm, between legitimate commentary and defamatory falsehood.
The remedies available under Nigerian law for victims of fake news and defamation reflect the dual objectives of vindication and deterrence. A successful claimant may be awarded damages, not as a windfall but as compensation for genuine harm suffered and as vindication of their tarnished reputation. In cases of particularly egregious conduct, where the defendant calculated that the profit from publication would exceed any damages awarded, punitive or exemplary damages may be imposed to punish and deter. Injunctions may be sought to prevent impending publication, preserving reputation before it is destroyed. In appropriate cases, the court may order a correction or apology, requiring the purveyor of falsehood to publicly acknowledge their wrong.
Yet the law, for all its majesty, is not sufficient unto itself. The legal regime in Nigerian cyberspace is a necessary but insufficient response to the challenge of fake news and defamation. The law can punish the transgressor, but it cannot alone cultivate the virtue of truthfulness. The law can award damages, but it cannot fully restore a reputation shattered by viral falsehood. The law can impose sentences, but it cannot heal the social wounds inflicted by deliberate deception. What is needed, beyond the coercive power of the state, is a cultural renaissance, a return to the values of the Ọmọlúwàbí, a reaffirmation of the sacred duty to speak truth, and a collective commitment to the proposition that the health of our society depends upon the integrity of our words.
This cultural dimension is not separate from the legal; it is its foundation. Laws against defamation derive their legitimacy and their power from the moral consensus of the society they serve. When that consensus erodes, when truth becomes merely one narrative among many, and when the pursuit of clicks and engagement overrides the commitment to accuracy, the law becomes a hollow shell, enforcing norms that no longer command popular allegiance. The task before us, therefore, is not merely to strengthen legal penalties or to expand regulatory oversight, important as these may be. It is to rebuild the cultural infrastructure of truth, to rekindle in every Nigerian heart the flame of Ọmọlúwàbí, and to make the speaking of falsehood against another as socially unacceptable as theft or violence.
In practical terms, this cultural renewal must manifest in multiple domains. In our educational institutions, we must teach media literacy and critical thinking, equipping young Nigerians with the skills to evaluate sources, verify claims and recognise manipulation. In our religious and traditional institutions, we must reaffirm the spiritual and ethical imperatives of truthfulness, drawing upon the rich reservoirs of wisdom in our diverse cultural traditions. In our media organisations, we must strengthen professional standards and editorial accountability, ensuring that the pursuit of speed does not sacrifice the commitment to accuracy. On social media platforms, we must encourage responsible conduct, making the pause before posting, the verification before sharing and the reflection before reacting habitual practices of digital citizenship.
The legal regime must also evolve to meet the challenges of an ever-changing technological landscape. The Cybercrimes Act, while groundbreaking in its time, requires periodic review to address emerging forms of digital manipulation, from deepfakes to coordinated inauthentic behaviour. The courts must continue to develop structured guidelines for adjudicating digital defamation cases, providing clarity and consistency in an area of law that remains in flux. Policymakers must also engage in dialogue with technology companies, civil society and the public to ensure that regulatory responses are proportionate, effective and respectful of fundamental rights.
Let me conclude with a reflection that returns us to where we began. The Yoruba people have a proverb: “Àgbà kì í wà lọ́jà, kí orí ọmọ tuntun wo.” The elder does not sit in the marketplace while the child’s head is being wrongly placed at the back of its mother’s head. It is a call to responsibility, to intervention and to the protection of the vulnerable from harm. In the marketplace of ideas that is Nigerian cyberspace, we are all elders in our own spheres of influence. We have a duty, not merely legal but moral, not merely individual but collective, to ensure that the heads of the innocent are not shaved by the razors of falsehood, that the reputations of our fellow citizens are not butchered by the blades of defamation, and that the social fabric of our nation is not torn asunder by the spreading of fake news.
Fake news and defamatory speeches are cultural wickedness because they violate the Ọmọlúwàbí ideal. They are legally criminal because they assault rights protected by our Constitution and statutes. They are offences against humanity because they degrade the dignity that is the birthright of every person. And they are threats to social well-being because they corrode the trust upon which all human cooperation depends.
In the end, the question before us is not merely what the law permits or prohibits. It is what kind of people we choose to be. Do we choose to be Ọmọlúwàbí—bearers of good character, speakers of truth and builders of community? Or do we choose to be purveyors of falsehood, merchants of malice and architects of discord? The answer we give, in our words and our conduct, in our laws and our culture, will determine whether Nigerian cyberspace becomes a garden of enlightenment or a wilderness of deception. For my part, I choose the path of the Ọmọlúwàbí. I choose truth. I choose dignity. I choose the social well-being of all humanity. And I invite every Nigerian to walk this path with me.
Every day, millions of Nigerians wake up to a flood of WhatsApp forwards, Twitter/X threads, and Facebook posts—some true, many half-true, and a good number entirely fabricated. A rumour about a bank collapse can trigger a run on deposits before noon. A doctored video can spark ethnic tension before dinner. A false allegation, shared a thousand times, can destroy a reputation built over decades—all before the subject even knows it exists. This is the reality of Nigeria’s cyberspace: a place of enormous democratic promise and an equally enormous capacity for harm.
The question is not whether this harm is real—it plainly is—but whether the laws Nigeria has enacted to address it are fit for purpose, or whether, in trying to cure the disease, they have created a different illness altogether.
The Legal Architecture
Nigeria’s response to online falsehood and defamatory speech rests on several pillars. The oldest is the common law tort of defamation, alongside the criminal defamation provisions in the Criminal Code (Sections 373–375, applicable in the South) and the Penal Code (in the North). These predate the internet but have been extended to cover online statements, since a defamatory post is, in essence, a defamatory publication regardless of the medium.
The newer and more controversial pillar is Section 24 of the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015, popularly known as the ‘cyberstalking’ provision. In its original form, it criminalised messages that were ‘grossly offensive’, ‘indecent’, or sent to cause ‘annoyance’, ‘insult’, or ‘needless anxiety’—language so broad that almost any strongly worded tweet could, in theory, attract prosecution. It was this provision, more than any other, that came to define Nigeria’s fake-news enforcement regime, and not for the better.
A Law Repeatedly Rebuked
By 2022, the ECOWAS Community Court of Justice had already condemned Section 24 as arbitrary, vague, and repressive, and ordered the Nigerian Government to repeal or amend it for violating the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. That order was not obeyed for years. In the interim, journalists, bloggers, and activists—including high-profile figures—were arrested, detained, and prosecuted under the section, often for reporting or commentary that governments simply found unflattering.
It took until February 2024 for the National Assembly to act, passing the Cybercrimes (Amendment) Act, which narrowed Section 24 to target messages known to be false and sent specifically to cause a breakdown of law and order or a threat to life. On paper, this was progress: the vague, feelings-based language of ‘annoyance’ and ‘insult’ was stripped out.
In practice, the improvement has been modest. Civil society groups and press-freedom organisations continue to report arrests of journalists and social media users under the amended section, arguing that phrases such as ‘breakdown of law and order’ remain undefined and elastic enough to be applied selectively. The Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project has gone as far as returning to the ECOWAS Court to argue that even the amended provision falls short of Nigeria’s human rights obligations.
Meanwhile, ordinary criminal defamation prosecutions—as seen in the widely publicised case of activist Dele Farotimi, charged both under the Criminal Code and the Cybercrimes Act over allegations made in a published book and online commentary—show how the two regimes now operate in tandem, sometimes against the same defendant for the same underlying speech.
The Core Tension
Herein lies the central critique of Nigeria’s cyberspace legal regime: it conflates two distinct problems—the spread of demonstrably false information that threatens public safety, and the airing of uncomfortable truths or honest opinions that merely embarrass powerful people. A well-drafted law would sharply separate these. Nigeria’s current framework, despite the 2024 amendment, still leaves enough interpretive room for the two to blur into one another, and enforcement patterns suggest that room is being used.
There is also a structural problem: criminal defamation itself. Most democracies have moved away from jailing people over reputational disputes, preferring civil remedies—damages, retractions, and injunctions—which compensate victims without giving the state a tool to silence critics. Nigeria retains criminal defamation on its books, and its cyber statute effectively criminalised a wide swathe of online expression alongside it, creating a double jeopardy of sorts for online speakers: civil liability and criminal prosecution for the same words.
None of this is to excuse those who deliberately manufacture falsehoods to defraud, incite violence, or destroy reputations for personal or political gain. Genuine victims of online defamation and disinformation—private citizens as much as public figures—deserve real, accessible remedies. The law’s legitimate interest in public order and individual dignity is not in dispute.
What Reform Should Look Like
A more defensible regime would do three things. First, it would decriminalise ordinary defamation, reserving criminal sanctions for the narrow category of false speech that demonstrably incites violence or causes serious public danger—with that category defined with precision, not left to prosecutorial discretion. Second, it would require judicial oversight before arrests or content takedowns under cyber laws, rather than leaving those powers largely in the hands of the police and security agencies. Third, it would build out faster, cheaper civil channels—media councils, mediation, and expedited court tracks—so that ordinary Nigerians defamed online are not forced to choose between an expensive lawsuit and helpless silence.
Nigeria does not lack the ambition to regulate its cyberspace responsibly. What it still lacks is the legislative precision and institutional restraint to do so without becoming, in the process, the very obstacle to free expression that the law was meant to protect citizens from.
The cyberspace has become a veritable tool in modern technology, aimed at enhancing the transmission and/or dissemination of information more easily and quickly, particularly with the advent of Information and Communication Technology (ICT), newspapers, social media and telecommunications, to mention a few.
Notwithstanding this, cyberspace has been abused by persons seeking to undermine its significance and usefulness in modern technology. Hence, it is not uncommon to find journalists or social media users employing these technological tools to injure the reputation of individuals through the dissemination of fake news and defamatory statements. Perhaps, these acts are motivated by greed and/or an inordinate quest for money, or by a desire to exert power or undue influence in order to diminish the integrity of another individual.
The law has, however, provided remedies for affected persons, as encapsulated in the Latin maxim ubi jus ibi remedium (meaning, “where there is a right, there is a remedy”).
With the promulgation of laws such as the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015 (as amended in 2024), the Criminal Code Laws of the Federation of Nigeria, the Nigeria Data Protection Act (NDPA), 2023, and the Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC) Act, the spread of fake news and defamatory statements may attract both criminal and civil liabilities. Notably, Section 375 of the Criminal Code provides:
“Subject to the provisions of this chapter, any person who publishes any defamatory matter is guilty of a misdemeanour and is liable to imprisonment for one year, and any person who publishes any defamatory matter knowing it to be false is liable to imprisonment for two years.”
Similarly, the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015 (as amended in 2024), criminalises the deliberate transmission of false messages through computer systems for purposes such as causing annoyance, insult, hatred, ill will or injury to another person. Upon conviction, offenders may face substantial fines, imprisonment, or both.
In practical terms, however, the Nigerian courts have recognised that individuals who post content on social media are publishers in the eyes of the law. This means that a person who shares false or defamatory statements online may be held liable in the same way as a traditional media house. Thus, to succeed in a defamation claim arising from social media or online publications, a claimant must establish certain core elements. These include the existence of a false statement of fact, publication to a third party, fault on the part of the defendant, and resulting damage to the claimant’s reputation.
Traditionally, the Nigerian legal regime also recognises two forms of defamation: libel and slander. Libel refers to defamatory statements in permanent form, such as writing, print, pictures or other recorded media. Slander, on the other hand, involves defamatory statements in transient form, typically spoken words or gestures.
Hate speech also cuts across public institutions and/or government officials. Such acts may be regarded as sedition, punishable under Sections 50 and 51 of the Criminal Code Act. Sedition, which is closely related to criminal defamation, involves publications intended to bring public officials or institutions into hatred or contempt, or to excite disaffection against them.
That being said, it is imperative to emphasise that the rights of individuals are constitutionally guaranteed and enforceable, although such rights are not absolute. Section 39 of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999 (as amended), provides:
“Every person shall be entitled to freedom of expression, including freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart ideas and information without interference.”
Subsection 2 further provides:
“Without prejudice to the generality of subsection (1) of this section, every person shall be entitled to own, establish and operate any medium for the dissemination of information, ideas and opinions, provided that no person other than the Government of the Federation or of a State, or any other person or body authorised by the President on the fulfilment of a condition laid down by an Act of the National Assembly, shall own, establish or operate a television or wireless broadcasting station for any purpose whatsoever.”
Similarly, Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights states:
“Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.”
Furthermore, Article 9 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights provides:
“1. Every individual shall have the right to receive information.”
“2. Every individual shall have the right to express and disseminate his opinion within the law.”
More particularly, with regard to the dissemination of false news, the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) Act, Cap. N11, Laws of the Federation of Nigeria, 2004, sets standards for broadcasting with the aim of promoting factual, accurate and fair reporting, thereby fostering public trust and confidence. This can, however, be achieved through investigative journalism. The courts have emphasised the importance of investigative journalism in a plethora of cases. One case which emphasises the need for investigative journalism is the celebrated case of Chief F. R. A. Williams v. Daily Times of Nigeria Limited, wherein Chief Williams sued the newspaper company for publishing, in its edition of Monday, 19 November 1979, the headline: “F. R. A. WILLIAMS SUED FOR ₦5 MILLION.” Chief Williams, however, obtained judgment in his favour. What comes to mind, therefore, is the failure of the Defendant to conduct proper investigations before the said report was published.
The Act, as well as the Code of Conduct regulating journalism, among other provisions, also emphasises the need to refrain from the use of vulgar, offensive and defamatory words.
Thus, publishing houses and news media organisations must be circumspect and refrain from using vulgar language or words capable of injuring the character or reputation of an individual, as they may be held liable where they fail to do so.
Such publishing companies, individuals or media outlets may, however, be exonerated where they successfully raise defences such as fair comment, justification and privilege, to mention but a few, provided that the publication is supported by evidence sufficient to rebut the claims of the Plaintiff/Claimant.
In summary and by way of conclusion, it is pertinent to state that investigative journalism is key to prevent the dissemination of false news or misleading information to promote public trust and confidence. This also applies to individuals and where this is achieved, sanity will be restored to the society.
The evolution and growth of Nigeria’s digital ecosystem have transformed public discourse, but they have also accelerated the spread of fake news, coordinated disinformation campaigns, and online defamation. While this digital penetration affects social trust and inflicts real-world damage, the legal mechanisms deployed to address these issues reveal a continuing tension between protecting public order and preserving constitutional rights.
In a multi-ethnic nation like Nigeria, unverified narratives can quickly ignite communal tension and political violence. Online fabrications during election cycles routinely undermine democratic trust and public safety.
Disinformation erodes institutional trust and damages commercial enterprises, while targeted cyber-defamation can irreversibly ruin individual reputations before civil remedies can intervene.
Nigeria addresses digital speech through a combination of statutory, civil, and criminal frameworks:
The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act: Originally enacted in 2015, Section 24 criminalised “cyberstalking” and the transmission of false messages intended to cause “annoyance, insult, or ill will”. Following years of constitutional challenges and an ECOWAS Court ruling condemning its weaponisation against journalists, the law was amended. The 2024 Amendment Act narrowed Section 24 to focus specifically on messages known to be false and sent to cause a threat to life or a breakdown of law and order, removing vague terms such as “grossly offensive” and “annoyance”.
Criminal and Civil Defamation: State Penal and Criminal Codes preserve criminal defamation, which carries the potential for imprisonment. Concurrently, victims of online libel can rely on common-law civil actions to seek damages and injunctions for false publications.
Addressing false information in Nigerian cyberspace requires a shift away from the excessive criminalisation of speech. Strengthening civil defamation procedures, enforcing data protection and digital identity standards, and investing in nationwide digital literacy initiatives offer a more sustainable strategy for tackling misinformation without stifling public debate or undermining constitutional freedoms.
In the past decade, Nigeria’s cyberspace has transformed into both a digital town square and a battleground for narratives. Social media platforms such as WhatsApp, Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), and TikTok have democratised the flow of information, enabling citizens to participate in public discourse. At the same time, these platforms have facilitated the rapid spread of fake news and defamatory statements. The velocity and reach of falsehoods in cyberspace mean that a single post can ignite ethnic tensions, destroy reputations, incite violence, or influence electoral outcomes before corrective measures can be taken. The law must rise to this challenge, but is the current legal regime adequate?
Effects of Fake News
The spread of fake news and defamatory speech online in Nigeria has three principal consequences:
- Public Harm: False information about insecurity, health, or elections undermines public trust and can cause panic, as witnessed during the COVID-19 pandemic and election cycles.
- Personal Harm: Online defamation can irreparably damage careers, businesses, and families. The permanence of the internet exacerbates this harm.
iii. National Security: False and inflammatory speech can be weaponised to incite ethnic, religious, or political violence. The unique speed, anonymity, and borderless nature of cyberspace make these harms more acute than those associated with traditional media.
The Extant Legal Framework
Nigeria lacks a single, comprehensive “Fake News Law”. Instead, regulation is scattered across several enactments:
- Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015 (as amended): The principal legal instrument governing online conduct. Section 24 criminalises intentionally sending grossly offensive, obscene, menacing, or false messages to annoy, harass, threaten, or cause anxiety. Section 24(3) empowers courts to make orders preventing further cyberstalking, providing an important protection for victims. However, the breadth of the language in this provision remains problematic.
- Criminal Code Act and Penal Code: Sections 373–375 of the Criminal Code and Sections 391–392 of the Penal Code address criminal defamation. These statutes predate the internet and are ill-suited to the realities of viral social media. Proof of “publication” is easier online, but questions of intent and jurisdiction are more complex.
- The Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999: Section 39(1) guarantees freedom of expression, while Section 39(3) permits restrictions for public order and the protection of reputation.
- Other Laws: The NBC Code, the Electoral Act 2022, and common-law principles of defamation also apply.
Shortcomings of the Legal Regime
Vagueness and Potential for Abuse: Terms such as “false”, “annoyance”, and “ill will” in the Cybercrimes Act confer wide discretion on law enforcement, potentially leading to the arrest of bloggers and critics rather than genuine purveyors of fake news.
Lack of Remedial Focus: The laws are primarily punitive and lack mechanisms for content takedown, counter-speech, digital literacy, or platform accountability, unlike the EU’s Digital Services Act.
Enforcement Challenges: Issues of jurisdiction, anonymity, and the use of VPNs complicate prosecutions. Often, the harm is irreparable by the time a case reaches court.
Conceptual Gaps: The law does not distinguish between misinformation, disinformation, and malinformation, nor does it adequately protect parody, opinion, or satire.
The Way Forward
A modern legal regime must balance the protection of reputation and public order with the safeguarding of freedom of expression.
Targeted Legislation: Any new law should narrowly define “fake news” and require proof of actual harm and an intent to deceive.
Platform Responsibility: Social media platforms operating in Nigeria should be required to maintain transparent content-moderation and takedown procedures.
Prioritisation of Civil Remedies: Civil defamation actions and corrections should be prioritised over criminal prosecution, except in cases involving genuine threats to national security.
Digital Literacy: Legal reform must be coupled with investment in media literacy by the government, the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA), the media, and educational institutions.
Conclusion
The proliferation of fake news and defamatory speech poses a clear threat to democracy and individual dignity in Nigeria. Existing statutes, particularly the Cybercrimes Act and the Criminal Code, provide a foundation but are blunt instruments that risk suppressing dissent rather than protecting the public. The solution lies not in further criminalisation, but in a more nuanced, rights-compliant legal regime focused on harm, accountability, and education. In the digital age, the law should not suppress speech but ensure that truth has a fair opportunity to prevail.
The geometric expansion of social media and digital platforms in Nigeria has changed the landscape of information, creating opportunities for expression while also providing avenues for the dissemination of false and harmful content. Fake news, which is a form of misleading information presented as fact, and defamatory speech, which injures a person’s reputation, have become recurring issues within the Nigerian cyberspace.
The effects of fake news and defamatory speech cannot be downplayed and can be severe in some circumstances. Politically, fake news has repeatedly undermined public trust and electoral integrity in democratic institutions. During election cycles, false information is used to exploit ethnic and religious divisions, with stories circulating about rigged results, the adoption of candidates, withdrawals, and violence. On the other hand, AI-generated deepfakes and voice clones have created further distortions, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish between authentic and fabricated content. Collectively, these developments have created an atmosphere of reduced voter confidence and an increased risk of post-election violence.
Also, defamatory posts expose individuals to public humiliation, harassment, and mental distress, among other consequences. Victims of defamation often suffer reputational damage that affects their employment and personal relationships and, in extreme cases, exposes them to physical threats. At the community level, false security alerts, alongside claims of bandit invasions or school abductions, have consistently triggered panic, unnecessary displacement, and even mob violence. Misinformation surrounding insecurity has also fostered distrust between citizens and security agencies, sometimes amplifying terrorist narratives or intercommunal suspicion. The consequences are not limited to these alone. Economically, businesses and professionals suffer when false claims circulate about their products, financial integrity, and competence. Such defamatory content can destroy commercial reputations built over many years in a single night.
While Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution (as amended) guarantees freedom of expression, including the freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart ideas, this right is, however, subject to the limitations in Section 45, which permits restrictions that are reasonably justifiable in a democratic society in the interests of defence, public safety, public order, public morality, or the protection of the rights of others. On the other hand, the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015, as amended in 2024, provides in Section 24—the provision most frequently invoked against online speech—a framework for addressing certain forms of harmful online communication. The original provision criminalised the transmission of messages that were “grossly offensive”, indecent, or intended to cause “annoyance, inconvenience, or needless anxiety”. Civil actions for defamation remain available, allowing victims to seek damages, injunctions, and apologies.
There are also regulatory layers, including the Nigerian Communications Act, National Broadcasting Commission codes, the Nigeria Data Protection Act 2023, and the NITDA Code of Practice for Interactive Computer Service Platforms. In terms of institutional enforcement, the Nigeria Police Force, through its cybercrime units, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission in certain cases, NITDA, the National Broadcasting Commission, and the courts have also begun to grapple with issues relating to platform liability, anonymity, and the intersection of defamation with data privacy rights.
While the existence of a dedicated cybercrime statute represents progress in the legal framework, the regime suffers from a series of deficiencies. The initial version of Section 24 was notoriously overbroad and vague, enabling its weaponisation against journalists, activists, and ordinary critics. Civil remedies for defamation are often slow, expensive, and inaccessible to ordinary citizens, while criminal processes can be initiated by powerful complainants with relative ease. Enforcement remains inconsistent and selective. High-profile cases involving journalists and political opponents receive attention, while the bulk of everyday online defamation and coordinated disinformation campaigns go unaddressed and, in some cases, unattended to.
Fake news and defamatory speech in the Nigerian cyberspace cause real and measurable harm to individuals, democratic processes, social cohesion, and national security. The legal framework, which is founded on the Constitution and the amended Cybercrimes Act, provides a basis for responding to these challenges, yet it remains underdeveloped and imperfect. There are also instances of selective enforcement, limited accessibility to civil remedies, and jurisdictional difficulties, all of which undermine the effectiveness of these frameworks. A more balanced approach would prioritise the criminalisation of only the most serious harms, ranging from threats to life to threats to public order; strengthen civil redress mechanisms; impose clearer duties on social media platforms; promote digital literacy; and ensure that enforcement is independent, transparent, and respectful of fundamental rights. It is only through such reforms that Nigeria can protect the integrity of its information space while safeguarding the fundamental right to freedom of expression that underpins a democratic society.
Fake news and defamatory speech in Nigeria’s cyberspace cause severe social harm, ethnic tension, and personal reputational damage. The primary legal framework for combating these issues is the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015 (as amended in 2024), alongside provisions of the Criminal Code and the 1999 Constitution.
The Harm of Fake News and Defamation
Erosion of Truth: False stories spread rapidly and mislead the public on vital issues.
Security Threats: Fake reports can trigger ethnic and religious riots or cause widespread panic.
Reputational Damage: Defamatory posts can ruin careers and damage the reputations of innocent citizens, often without providing them with a quick means of redress.
Impact on Elections: False information can distort political views and influence voters’ choices.
The Nigerian Legal Regime
Cybercrimes Act 2015 (as amended in 2024): Section 24 penalises cyberstalking and the transmission of knowingly false messages intended to cause annoyance, enmity or danger.
Criminal and Penal Codes: Sections 373–381 of the Criminal Code Act (applicable in Southern Nigeria), alongside relevant provisions of the Penal Code applicable in Northern Nigeria, address defamatory libel.
Defamation in Tort: Victims may institute civil actions for damages in the High Courts, seeking financial compensation and, where appropriate, retractions.
Constitutional Balance: Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution guarantees freedom of expression, while Section 45 permits certain limitations to protect the rights and reputations of others.
Legal Challenges and Criticisms
Overreach and Abuse: Security agencies have sometimes been accused of using Section 24 of the Cybercrimes Act to silence journalists, whistle-blowers and critics.
Enforcement Gaps: Cross-border hosting and the use of anonymous accounts can make it difficult to identify and prosecute perpetrators operating from outside Nigeria.
Vague Terms: Terms such as “annoyance” and “inconvenience” in earlier versions of the law were criticised as being too broad, although the 2024 amendments sought to refine the relevant provisions
Catherine Olajumoke Ogunjebi, Esq.
There was a time when a rumour travelled by word of mouth, perhaps from one market square to another. Today, a smartphone can take the same rumour from one person to millions within minutes. A fabricated story posted on Facebook, X, TikTok, WhatsApp or another digital platform can acquire the appearance of truth simply because it has been shared thousands of times. In Nigeria’s increasingly digital society, the question is no longer whether fake news and defamatory speech are harmful. They plainly are. The more difficult question is how far the law should go in controlling them without turning the regulation of cyberspace into a weapon against legitimate expression.
This tension lies at the heart of Nigeria’s cybercrime regime.
The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015 was enacted at a time when Nigeria was confronting an expanding range of technology-enabled offences. Among its provisions was section 24, which created the offence of cyberstalking. The original section 24(1)(b) criminalised the knowing or intentional transmission of a false message through a computer system or network where the purpose was to cause “annoyance, inconvenience, danger, obstruction, insult, injury, criminal intimidation, enmity, hatred, ill will or needless anxiety” to another person. Conviction attracted a fine of up to ₦7 million, imprisonment for up to three years, or both.
On the surface, the provision appeared to provide an appropriate response to the growing problem of harmful online communication. In reality, however, its breadth generated serious concerns. What precisely amounted to “annoyance”? When did criticism become “insult”? Could a journalist’s investigation, a citizen’s complaint against a public official, or a political opinion be transformed into a criminal offence merely because someone found it offensive?
These were not theoretical questions.
The former section 24 was criticised for its vague language and its potential to criminalise legitimate expression. The controversy eventually reached the ECOWAS Court of Justice, which found the provision inconsistent with Nigeria’s obligations concerning freedom of expression and information. The controversy contributed to the subsequent amendment of the provision in 2024.
Fake News: More Than an Internet Nuisance
Fake news is not simply an unpleasant feature of social media. In a country as populous and politically active as Nigeria, false information can have consequences for public safety, elections, businesses, individuals and even national security.
A fabricated report that a particular community has been attacked can provoke panic. A false allegation that a bank is insolvent can trigger a run on the bank. A fabricated health claim can discourage people from seeking appropriate medical treatment. False political information can distort democratic choices. A false allegation against an individual can destroy a career or reputation before that person has an opportunity to respond.
The speed and permanence of digital communication make the problem particularly serious. A newspaper correction may reach thousands; the original false story may have reached millions. Even after deletion, screenshots, reposts and archived copies may continue circulating.
It is therefore understandable that the State seeks legal mechanisms to combat deliberate online falsehoods.
The difficulty, however, is distinguishing deliberate misinformation from mistakes, opinions, satire, criticism and legitimate disagreement.
The 2024 amendment represents a significant attempt to make that distinction clearer. Section 24(1)(b), as amended, focuses on a message that the sender knows to be false and transmits for the purpose of causing a breakdown of law and order, posing a threat to life, or causing such a message to be sent. The provision retains a maximum penalty of ₦7 million or three years’ imprisonment, or both.
This is an improvement over the 2015 formulation. “I dislike what you said” should not be equivalent to “your deliberately fabricated message threatens public order or life”. Criminal law ought to be concerned with demonstrable harm, culpability and clearly defined prohibited conduct.
Defamation and the Problem of Criminalisation
Defamation presents a more complicated question.
The law has a legitimate interest in protecting reputation. Every person has a right not to have his or her reputation unjustifiably destroyed by false statements presented as facts. But reputation must be protected without extinguishing criticism, investigative journalism or public-interest discourse.
Nigeria already has laws dealing with defamation. The traditional distinction between libel and slander has long provided legal remedies for injury to reputation. The emergence of social media has merely changed the medium through which defamatory statements can be disseminated.
This raises an important policy question: should an individual who publishes a defamatory statement online automatically face criminal prosecution merely because the statement was transmitted through a computer or network?
The original section 24 effectively created a significant disparity between offline and online speech. Similar words could potentially expose a person to criminal proceedings when published online, while the corresponding traditional defamation claim would ordinarily be pursued through civil proceedings. Critics argued that this gave the State an unnecessarily powerful tool over digital speech.
The 2024 amendment has narrowed the scope of section 24, but concerns have not disappeared. Section 24(2)(c), for example, addresses communications containing threats to harm the reputation of another person, including threats made for purposes of extortion. Section 24(2)(a) similarly addresses bullying, threatening or harassment where the communication places another person in fear of death, violence or bodily harm.
These provisions are considerably more defensible where the conduct involves threats, extortion, fear of physical harm or genuinely abusive behaviour. They become more problematic where ordinary political criticism or allegations concerning public affairs are treated as cybercrime without careful consideration of context, truth, public interest and intention.
The Constitutional Question
The regulation of online speech must be reconciled with section 39 of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999 (as amended), which protects freedom of expression and the freedom to receive and impart information.
Freedom of expression, however, is not absolute. It does not provide a licence to threaten another person’s life, extort money, deliberately circulate dangerous falsehoods or engage in sustained harassment. The Constitution itself recognises that restrictions may be imposed by law in specified circumstances.
The challenge is therefore not to choose between “free speech” and “public safety”. The challenge is to achieve a constitutionally acceptable balance.
A good cybercrime law should punish harmful conduct, not merely unpopular opinions.
That distinction is fundamental.
If a citizen exposes corruption and the subject of the allegation is offended, offence alone should not transform the publication into cybercrime. If a journalist publishes an investigation in good faith, the remedy should not automatically be arrest and detention. If, on the other hand, an individual knowingly invents a story that a bomb has been planted at a public facility with the intention of causing panic or disorder, criminal intervention is entirely defensible.
The difference is not whether someone is offended. It is whether the law can establish the required elements of the offence.
The Danger of the Digital Mob
While government overreach is a legitimate concern, society must also confront the opposite danger: the digital mob.
Social media has created an environment where allegations are often treated as convictions. A person can be accused in a thirty-second video and condemned by thousands before any investigation takes place. A private dispute can become a national scandal. A false allegation can permanently damage someone’s reputation even if the allegation is later disproved.
The harm is magnified by the economics of social media. Sensational claims attract more attention than corrections. “Breaking” news is often valued more than verified news.
This creates an ethical responsibility for citizens.
The fact that technology permits instantaneous publication does not mean that every piece of information deserves instantaneous publication.
Before sharing a serious allegation, particularly one capable of damaging another person’s reputation, a responsible user should ask: Is it true? What is my source? Have I verified it? Am I communicating fact or opinion? Could the publication cause unjustifiable harm?
Digital citizenship requires more than technological literacy. It requires legal and ethical literacy.
The Law Must Not Become a Weapon
One of the strongest lessons from the controversy surrounding section 24 is that laws designed to protect society can themselves become problematic when drafted or enforced too broadly.
The original provision’s references to “annoyance”, “insult”, “ill will” and “needless anxiety” were especially vulnerable to subjective interpretation. Academic and civil-society commentary has noted that such language created opportunities for the law to be applied against journalists, activists and ordinary citizens whose online criticism was perceived as offensive.
The 2024 amendment is therefore a welcome legislative correction, but it should not be regarded as the end of the conversation.
Law enforcement agencies must understand that criticism is not automatically cyberstalking, disagreement is not automatically harassment, and an allegation is not automatically a criminal falsehood.
Likewise, citizens must understand that freedom of expression comes with responsibility. The internet is not a law-free zone.
Towards a Better Nigerian Cyberspace
Nigeria needs a regulatory framework that is simultaneously tough on genuine cyber abuse and protective of constitutional freedoms.
First, enforcement agencies should receive specialised training on the amended section 24 and should distinguish between legitimate expression, civil defamation, political criticism, harassment, threats and deliberately harmful misinformation.
Second, criminal prosecution should be reserved for conduct that clearly satisfies the statutory elements of an offence. The mere fact that a complainant is influential or offended should never determine whether criminal law is invoked.
Third, the courts must continue to insist upon strict proof of the ingredients of cybercrime. Section 36(12) of the Constitution requires an offence and its penalty to be defined in written law; consequently, criminal provisions must not be stretched through subjective interpretation.
Fourth, Nigeria should strengthen non-criminal mechanisms for resolving reputational disputes online. Corrections, rights of reply, injunctions and civil remedies may, in appropriate cases, provide more proportionate responses than arrest and imprisonment.
Finally, citizens must become more discerning consumers of digital information. No government can legislate society into truthfulness. The fight against fake news ultimately requires a combination of law, digital literacy, responsible journalism, ethical social-media behaviour and effective fact-checking.
Conclusion
Nigeria’s cyberspace is now an extension of its social, political and economic life. What happens online does not remain online. Falsehoods can destroy reputations; defamatory speeches can ruin livelihoods; fabricated information can cause panic; and threats can translate into real-world violence.
The State therefore has a legitimate responsibility to regulate harmful digital conduct.
But that responsibility has limits.
The history of section 24 of the Cybercrimes Act demonstrates why those limits matter. The original 2015 provision sought to address harmful online communication but attracted serious criticism because of its broad and subjective language. The 2024 amendment has narrowed the provision and introduced a more defensible focus on knowingly false communications, public disorder, threats to life, bullying, harassment and related harmful conduct.
The proper objective should not be to create a cyberspace where nobody can speak offensively. Nor should it be to create a cyberspace where people can destroy others with impunity.
The objective should be a digital environment in which truth is valued, reputation is protected, genuine threats are punished, victims have effective remedies, and lawful criticism remains free.
In the final analysis, the strength of Nigeria’s cybercrime regime will not be measured by the number of people arrested for online speech. It will be measured by whether the law can protect citizens from genuine digital harm while preserving the constitutional space necessary for journalism, democratic debate, accountability and dissent.
That is the balance a mature democracy must pursue.
Nigeria’s cyberspace has become as combustible as it is connected. Between the anonymity of social media and the speed at which content travels, fake news and defamatory speech now carry consequences that outrun the law meant to restrain them. This piece examines the harm, interrogates the statutory and common-law framework that governs it, and asks whether Nigeria’s regulatory response has struck the right balance between order and liberty.
Introduction
The proliferation of social media platforms and instant messaging applications has transformed Nigeria’s public discourse. WhatsApp forwards, X (formerly Twitter) threads and Facebook posts now shape public opinion, move markets, provoke communal tension and, on occasion, end careers and reputations overnight. Alongside this transformation has come a troubling companion: the deliberate or careless dissemination of false and defamatory information. What was once confined to the town crier or the tabloid press now spreads unchecked to millions within minutes.
This article critiques the effects of fake news and defamatory speech in Nigeria’s cyberspace and examines the legal regime that has developed, sometimes reactively, to address them. The discussion draws on statutes, case law and constitutional guarantees that must be reconciled with any regulatory response.
Understanding Fake News and Defamation in the Digital Context
“Fake news” has no single settled legal definition in Nigerian law, but it is generally understood as false or misleading information presented as fact and disseminated, whether through malice, negligence or a profit motive, to deceive an audience. Defamation, by contrast, is a well-established tort and, in some circumstances, a criminal offence: the publication of a false statement that lowers a person’s reputation in the estimation of right-thinking members of society, exposes them to hatred, ridicule or contempt, or causes them to be shunned or avoided.
The digital environment complicates both categories. Publication online is instantaneous, often anonymous, easily amplified through shares and retweets, and frequently permanent — a defamatory post may be deleted, but screenshots and caches can ensure that it survives. Nigerian courts have had to adapt inherited common-law principles of defamation, developed for newspapers and broadcast media, to a landscape of hashtags, memes and viral audio notes.
The Harm: Individual, Institutional and National
The effects of fake news and online defamation in Nigeria are neither abstract nor merely reputational. At the individual level, victims suffer psychological distress, loss of employment, damage to businesses and, in some cases, mob violence triggered by false allegations. Several documented incidents of “jungle justice” in Nigeria have been traced to unverified claims, particularly allegations of kidnapping or ritual killing, posted on social media and acted upon before any fact-checking occurred.
At the institutional level, fake news undermines public trust in the press, government agencies and the electoral process. During election cycles, Nigeria has repeatedly witnessed coordinated disinformation campaigns designed to inflame ethnic or religious sentiment, suppress turnout or delegitimise results. At the national level, the cumulative effect is a corrosion of the shared factual basis on which democratic debate depends — what commentators increasingly describe as an “infodemic” that runs parallel to, and sometimes worsens, genuine public health and security crises.
It is this harm that the Nigerian state has repeatedly invoked to justify legislative intervention. The difficulty, as this article argues, is that the remedies chosen have not always been proportionate to the mischief they seek to address.
The Legal Regime: Statutory Framework
- The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015, as Amended in 2024
The Cybercrimes Act remains the principal statute governing online conduct in Nigeria. Section 24 of the original 2015 Act criminalised the sending, by means of a computer system, of messages that were “grossly offensive, pornographic or of an indecent, obscene or menacing character”, or messages known to be false and sent for the purpose of causing “annoyance, inconvenience, danger, obstruction, insult, injury, criminal intimidation, enmity, hatred, ill will or needless anxiety”.
That provision was, for close to a decade, the Government’s principal weapon against online speech it disapproved of. Its vague and elastic language — particularly words such as “annoyance” and “grossly offensive” — was repeatedly criticised by civil society and press-freedom organisations as a tool for silencing journalists, bloggers and government critics rather than as a genuine safeguard against falsehood. The provision was challenged before the Federal High Court and the Court of Appeal, and separately before the ECOWAS Community Court of Justice, which, in 2020, held that Section 24 violated the right to freedom of expression guaranteed under the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and ordered the Nigerian Government to amend or repeal it.
The Federal Government did not give effect to that judgment until the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) (Amendment) Act 2024. Section 5 of the Amendment Act deleted the nebulous language of the original Section 24(1) and narrowed the offence: it is now unlawful to knowingly send a message by computer system that is pornographic, or that the sender knows to be false, for the purpose of causing a breakdown of law and order or posing a threat to life. Conviction attracts a fine of up to ₦7 million, imprisonment of up to three years, or both.
The amendment is a genuine improvement in precision, and it reflects Nigeria’s belated compliance with the ECOWAS Court’s judgment. Yet commentators, including the Nigerian Guild of Editors and the Socio-Economic Rights and Accountability Project, have observed that enforcement in 2025 continued to feature the arrest and prosecution of bloggers and social media users over posts that amounted to criticism of public officials rather than falsehoods threatening public order. The statutory language may now be narrower, but the pattern of its use suggests that legislative reform alone does not guarantee a change in enforcement culture.
- The Criminal Code and Penal Code
Outside the Cybercrimes Act, criminal defamation remains available under the Criminal Code, applicable in southern Nigeria, and, in modified form, under the Penal Code, applicable in the north. Both criminalise the publication of defamatory matter. These provisions predate the internet but have been invoked, alongside the Cybercrimes Act, in cases involving online publication, on the basis that the medium of publication does not change the character of the offence.
- Civil Defamation under Common Law
The tort of defamation, comprising libel (permanent form, which includes online publication) and slander (transient form), remains the primary civil remedy available to a person defamed online. A claimant must establish that the statement was defamatory, referred to them, was published to a third party and was false. Nigerian courts have accepted that a defamatory post, tweet or WhatsApp broadcast constitutes publication in permanent form, and damages have been awarded in a number of reported cases against individuals and, in some instances, media platforms that failed to take down defamatory user-generated content after notice.
The civil route, while doctrinally sound, is often impractical for the ordinary Nigerian. Litigation is slow, the anonymity of many online publishers makes identification difficult, and the cost of pursuing a defamation suit through Nigeria’s court system frequently exceeds what an aggrieved private citizen can bear or is justified by the harm suffered.
- The Nigeria Data Protection Act 2023 and Sectoral Regulation
The Nigeria Data Protection Act 2023, while not a defamation statute, intersects with online falsehoods where personal data is manipulated or misused to construct or amplify a false narrative. Separately, the National Broadcasting Commission and the National Information Technology Development Agency have issued codes and guidelines touching on harmful online content, although their reach over user-generated social media content, as opposed to licensed broadcast media, remains contested.
- Constitutional Guarantees
Any critique of this regime must be read against Sections 39 and 22 of the 1999 Constitution (as amended), which guarantee freedom of expression and the press, and Section 37, which guarantees the right to privacy. Section 45 permits derogation from these rights only where reasonably justifiable in a democratic society in the interests of defence, public safety, public order, public morality, public health or the protection of the rights of others. It is against this proportionality standard that Section 24 of the Cybercrimes Act, both before and after its 2024 amendment, must ultimately be measured.
Critique: Gaps and Tensions in the Regime
Several tensions emerge from this framework. First, there remains no dedicated, coherent statute addressing disinformation as a distinct phenomenon from ordinary online offences. Nigeria continues to regulate fake news through a patchwork of cybercrime, defamation and broadcasting provisions that were never designed with algorithmic amplification in mind.
Second, criminal sanctions under the Cybercrimes Act, even in their narrowed 2024 form, risk having a chilling effect on legitimate journalism and civic commentary, particularly where enforcement agencies retain wide discretion in determining what constitutes a threat to “law and order”. A regime intended to protect the public from falsehood should not become, in practice, a mechanism for protecting public officials from scrutiny.
Third, civil remedies for defamation remain inaccessible to most victims because of cost, delay and the practical difficulty of identifying anonymous or pseudonymous online publishers. This leaves many Nigerians whose reputations are genuinely damaged by online falsehoods without an effective remedy.
Fourth, platform accountability remains underdeveloped. Nigerian law imposes comparatively few obligations on social media intermediaries to act upon notice of defamatory or false content, in contrast to jurisdictions with developed intermediary-liability or notice-and-takedown frameworks.
Recommendations
A more effective legal regime would pursue several reforms in tandem. Legislative clarity should continue in the direction begun by the 2024 amendment, with any offence relating to falsehood defined narrowly, tied to demonstrable and serious harm, and subject to judicial rather than purely executive determination.
Civil defamation procedures should be simplified for online cases, including expedited processes for interim takedown orders pending trial, so that victims are not left with their reputations in ruins while litigation proceeds at its ordinary pace.
Media and digital literacy should be treated as a public policy priority, on the view that an informed public is the most durable defence against disinformation. Finally, engagement with platforms operating in Nigeria should be strengthened, with clearer obligations around reporting mechanisms and responsiveness to verified complaints of defamatory or false content, without ceding to platforms an unaccountable power over Nigerian public discourse.
Conclusion
Fake news and defamatory speech inflict real and often irreversible harm in Nigeria’s cyberspace — to individual reputations, communal peace and the integrity of public discourse. The legal regime that has developed to address this harm, anchored in the Cybercrimes Act, the Criminal and Penal Codes, and the common law of defamation, has moved, however belatedly, towards greater precision, as the 2024 amendment to Section 24 demonstrates.
But precision in the statute book is only the first step. Nigeria’s task now is to ensure that this regime is enforced against genuine falsehoods and their harms, and not deployed, as it too often has been, against the very speech that a free and democratic society is meant to protect.
The Nigerian cyberspace has become one of the fastest means of communication, but also one of the fastest channels for misinformation. With over 100 million internet users, WhatsApp, Facebook, X, TikTok, Snapchat and blogs now shape public opinion more than traditional media.
The dual problems of “fake news”—deliberately false information—and “defamatory speech”—false statements that injure a person’s reputation—have caused mob action, electoral violence, religious tension and reputational damage.
This critique examines their effects and assesses the adequacy of Nigeria’s current legal regime.
- EFFECTS OF SPREADING FAKE NEWS AND DEFAMATORY SPEECH
- Social and Security Effects
Fake news has triggered ethnic clashes, jungle justice and panic. For example, “herdsmen attack” videos that are recycled and recirculated yearly can cause reprisals. Defamatory speech online has also led to loss of employment, social ostracisation and, in some cases, suicide. The harm can be instantaneous and global because of the virality of online content.
- Political Effects
During elections, fake news is used for character assassination and voter suppression. Defamatory posts against candidates can spread faster than official statements from INEC. This erodes public trust in the democratic process.
- Economic Effects
Businesses can be ruined overnight by false claims about their products or allegations of fraud circulated on social media. Defamation in cyberspace can have lasting consequences because of screenshots, reposts and archived content.
- Erosion of Trust
Citizens may find it increasingly difficult to distinguish truth from falsehood. This can create a “post-truth” society in which outrage takes precedence over facts.
THE LEGAL REGIME IN NIGERIAN CYBERSPACE
Nigeria has a patchwork of laws addressing false information and defamatory statements rather than a single “Fake News Act”.
- Criminal Law
- Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act 2015
The Act makes it an offence, subject to its statutory requirements, to send certain false messages for the purpose of causing annoyance, ill will or causing a breakdown of law and order. The provision has attracted criticism because concepts such as “annoyance” and “ill will” may be susceptible to broad interpretation and could potentially be used against journalists, activists and critics.
- Criminal Code Act and Penal Code
Sections 373–375 of the Criminal Code address criminal defamation, while sections 391–392 of the Penal Code address defamation.
A Critique: These provisions pre-date the internet. Although establishing publication to a third party may be easier in the digital environment, enforcement remains slow and presents significant practical challenges.
- Civil Law
Law of Defamation
A victim of defamatory publication may institute a civil action in tort and seek damages. The recognised defences include truth, fair comment and qualified privilege.
A Critique: Litigation can be expensive and slow. By the time judgment is delivered, the defamatory material may already have reached thousands or millions of people, making the reputational damage difficult to reverse.
- Regulatory Framework
- NBC Code, ARCON Code and Proposed Social Media Legislation
These regulatory instruments primarily target broadcasters, advertisers and other regulated entities and have limited direct application to individual social media users.
- Platform Policies
Platforms such as Meta, X and TikTok have community standards and mechanisms for reporting and removing certain forms of harmful or unlawful content.
A CRITIQUE OF THE LEGAL REGIMES
Strengths
Weaknesses
- Cybercrimes Act: Section 24 provides a legal basis for addressing certain harmful false communications.
The provision has been criticised as being vague in some respects. Terms such as “false information” may be susceptible to broad interpretation, creating a risk of interference with freedom of expression under Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution.
- Defamation laws: These laws protect reputation, which is a recognised legal interest.
Jurisdiction and anonymity: Identifying anonymous users can be difficult, particularly where offenders operate from outside Nigeria.
- Developing case law: Nigerian jurisprudence in this area continues to develop as courts confront issues arising from digital communication.
Enforcement gap: Relevant institutions, including the police and regulatory bodies, may face significant capacity challenges in monitoring and responding to millions of online publications.
RECOMMENDATIONS
Amendment of Section 24 of the Cybercrimes Act: The provision should be made more precise. The law should clearly distinguish legitimate political criticism and robust public debate from deliberate misinformation or disinformation that poses a demonstrable threat to public safety.
Greater emphasis on civil remedies: Civil defamation proceedings should, where appropriate, be considered before criminal prosecution. This would help to prevent unnecessary criminalisation of speech while providing victims with an avenue for obtaining appropriate remedies.
Digital literacy: Government agencies and non-governmental organisations should promote digital literacy and teach fact-checking skills in schools and communities.
Co-regulation with digital platforms: Appropriate mechanisms should be developed to facilitate timely removal of unlawful content and the disclosure of the identities of anonymous users pursuant to valid court orders and due process.
Specialised cyber-defamation courts or tribunals: Consideration should be given to establishing specialised mechanisms for the speedy resolution of cyber-defamation disputes, subject to constitutional safeguards and judicial oversight.
CONCLUSION
Fake news and defamatory speech in Nigerian cyberspace are not merely “online gist”; they can be destructive to lives, livelihoods, property and democracy.
The current legal regime provides important tools for addressing these problems, but some of those tools may be blunt, outdated or capable of being misused in ways that threaten legitimate freedom of expression. The law must therefore strike an appropriate balance between protecting individuals and society from harmful falsehoods and safeguarding the constitutional right to freedom of expression under Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution, as well as the right to privacy under Section 37.
Punishment alone will not solve the problem. Nigeria needs a combination of effective legislation, public education, digital literacy, responsible journalism, platform accountability and proportionate enforcement.