Media Police
Truth Watch is a public interest column dedicated to exposing false claims, spotlighting ethical concerns in journalism, and equipping the public with tools to navigate today’s fast-changing information landscape.
The feature is part of a wider effort to strengthen truth and accountability in media.
Top false claims of the week
Fake Seyi Tinubu appointment fooled Nigerians
It all started with a screenshot. It looked official—State House logo, formal fonts, even a date stamp. The message was bold: President Bola Tinubu had appointed his son, Seyi Tinubu, as “Special Adviser on Oil.” The image spread quickly on WhatsApp, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter). Many people believed it straight away. It looked too real to be fake.
But on August 26, the presidency set the record straight. The so-called press release was fake. Officials called it “a crude fabrication designed to mislead the public” and urged Nigerians to follow only the official State House website or verified handles for announcements.
Soon after, fact-checkers at Dubawa and Africa Check confirmed the same. The fonts were mismatched, the text showed signs of editing, and the file had been copied from a 2023 release about something entirely different.
So why did so many fall for it? Because it felt believable. Nigeria has a long history of appointments going to family or close allies. As one civil servant in Abuja told Media Police: “I didn’t doubt it for a second. In this country, we’ve seen worse.” Fake news spreads fast not because it is true, but because it sounds like it could be.
This is not new. In 2022, a fake Central Bank memo claimed the N200 note would be redesigned, causing panic until officials denied it. In 2020, another forged circular said COVID-19 lockdowns had been secretly lifted. Both spread widely before the truth caught up.
The lesson is clear: a screenshot doesn’t prove anything. Anyone can fake one in minutes. Before you share, check the official website or a trusted news outlet. One careless forward may feel harmless, but when millions do the same, lies end up louder than the truth.
The fake dollar promise
On August 25, a WhatsApp voice note swept across Nigeria. The anonymous speaker sounded calm and confident, claiming to have “insider information” that the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) would peg the naira at N250 to the dollar starting September 1. He urged listeners to hold onto their dollars and wait for the windfall. For millions of Nigerians already squeezed by inflation, the promise was too tempting to ignore.
The rumour spread like wildfire—and it didn’t just circulate, it changed behaviour. In Abuja’s Wuse Market, forex traders froze transactions, waiting for the supposed new rate. In Lagos, electronics importers delayed orders, convinced their costs would soon fall. In Kano’s Sabon Gari, shopkeepers hiked prices, hedging against expected chaos. A single unverified voice note managed to warp economic decisions across the country.
By August 27, the CBN was forced to respond. In a statement on its official website, the Bank dismissed the message as “false, malicious, and intended to mislead the public.” Independent investigations by Premium Times and Africa Check confirmed there was no such policy.
Digging deeper, investigators linked the voice note to a Ponzi-style forex investment scheme, notorious for luring victims with promises of insider knowledge.
This was not the first time. Back in 2021, another viral claim insisted that the naira would soon be pegged at N150 to the dollar. That too was traced to a fraudulent investment syndicate. Many people lost money by delaying transactions, all because they believed whispers of easy profit. In both cases, disinformation preyed on ordinary Nigerians’ economic desperation, offering a fantasy of sudden relief.
The danger is clear: fake economic news doesn’t just mislead, it distorts reality. It affects real markets, real businesses, and real households. Nigerians must learn to treat every so-called “insider” voice note with deep suspicion. Forex policy is only confirmed through the CBN, not anonymous messages. Believing otherwise can be costly.
Media ethics spotlight
Cybercrime law: Protecting citizens or threatening free speech?
Nigeria’s online space shifted dramatically on August 28 when the national assembly passed the Cybercrimes Act 2025, a sweeping law that criminalises publishing false or misleading content online. Under the Act, offenders face up to two years in prison or fines as high as N7 million.
Even group administrators on WhatsApp, Facebook, or Telegram can now be held liable for illegal posts shared by members—if they knowingly allow them. Posts that stir ethnic or religious hatred could carry penalties as severe as life imprisonment.
Supporters say this law is long overdue. They point to the real damage disinformation has caused. In 2023, false WhatsApp rumours about contaminated tomatoes spread panic and disrupted markets across the north.
In 2020, another viral claim that drinking saltwater could cure COVID-19 sent hundreds of Nigerians rushing to hospitals with hypertension. Lawmakers argue that unchecked lies can destroy lives and livelihoods, and they believe the new Act provides strong deterrence against those who deliberately spread them.
But critics are sounding the alarm. The language of the Act is broad and vague. What exactly counts as “false”? Who decides what is “offensive”? Human rights groups fear the definitions are too loose and could be bent to target political opponents or silence uncomfortable voices.
They point to Singapore’s 2019 fake news law as a cautionary tale: while created to fight online falsehoods, it has frequently been used to stifle government critics. Civil society groups warn that Nigeria could easily slip into the same pattern, where the fight against disinformation becomes an excuse for censorship.
The challenge is real. Nigeria urgently needs effective tools to curb disinformation—our democracy and public health have already paid a heavy price for viral lies. But laws must be carefully crafted. If enforcement is heavy-handed or politically motivated, the Cybercrimes Act could punish dissent as harshly as deception. Instead of protecting citizens from lies, it may end up muzzling free expression.
The line between safeguarding truth and suppressing voices is thin. Without transparent, fair, and accountable enforcement, this new law risks becoming a weapon against journalism and democracy itself.
Billboards in newspaper
Drive through Abuja and you can’t miss them: giant posters of Nyesom Wike, minister of the federal capital territory (FCT), plastered across walls and highways, boldly celebrating his works. They are bright, colourful, and loudly political.
Nobody mistakes them for journalism—they are adverts, plain and simple. The trouble begins when the same style slips into newspapers and news sites, but this time dressed up as “news.” A glowing story about a politician’s achievements, published without any note that it was paid for, is nothing more than a billboard in disguise. Yet many outlets have made this normal, serving publicity while pretending it is journalism.
This problem has been around for years. During the 2023 elections, some websites pumped out hundreds of articles every month that blurred fact and propaganda. A BBC investigation showed how many of these “reports” were outright fabrications, designed to sway voters and push traffic.
The trick was simple: mix political spin with a little real information and publish it under a news banner. To the average reader, it looked genuine. The result was confusion—and citizens left wondering who or what to trust.
It doesn’t stop there. Political campaigns regularly pay for advertorials—long write-ups that appear in papers and online praising one candidate or the other. By law, these should carry a clear label such as “Advertisement” or “Sponsored.”
But most of the time the label is missing or hidden in fine print. Readers scanning through are led to believe they are reading fair reporting, when in truth they are consuming campaign material. At one point, several newspapers ran full-page features praising different governors on the same day, all with nearly identical language. It was clear the words came from press offices, not reporters.
The danger is obvious. Journalism is supposed to help citizens separate fact from spin, not blend the two together. When advertising sneaks in without a label, the wall between independent reporting and paid content collapses. Once that happens, every headline becomes suspect. If readers can’t trust what they see on the front page, then the press loses the one thing it cannot afford to lose—credibility.
Other countries take this seriously. In the UK and U.S., rules require adverts and sponsored stories to be clearly marked, often in bold letters. Nigeria has similar rules through its regulator, the Advertising Regulatory Council of Nigeria (ARCON), but enforcement is weak and often ignored. Without consequences, the bad habit of passing off adverts as news will only spread.
The lesson is simple: a billboard belongs on a roadside, not inside a newspaper pretending to be journalism. A paper that fails to draw that line stops being a newspaper and becomes nothing more than a campaign leaflet.
Tool of the week
Media literacy clubs: Students learning to see through the screens
In a move that feels both smart and timely, the National Film and Video Censors Board (NFVCB) launched media literacy clubs in secondary schools across Osun state in May 2025. The clubs, part of the “Making Safer Choices and Safeguarding Young Minds” campaign, began in Osogbo with pilot programs at three schools.
Each club includes ten students led by a coordinating teacher and supported by the ministry of education. The goal? Help students learn to pick age-appropriate media, understand film ratings, and think critically about what they watch, including spotting dangerous or misleading content.
Paul Aliwon, NFVCB’s deputy director, said the clubs would function like any extra-curricular group, with competitions, mentorship from filmmakers, and even a WhatsApp support line for students who need help. It’s a space where young people can learn to question what they see, rather than passively consume.
By training young people to think before they watch, share, or believe, the clubs are helping build a culture of safe and thoughtful media use in communities that need it most.
Quote of the Week
“Freedom of the press is not just important to democracy, it is democracy.”
— Walter Cronkite, legendary American broadcaster once known as “the most trusted man in America.”
