(Photo by Kaizenify via Wikimedia Commons/CC BY-SA 4.0 DEED)
Recently, Nigerian rapper Abdulkareem released a song called “Tell Your Papa,” where he criticized the hardship, insecurity, and hunger in his country and attributed it to the actions of the current president, Bola Tinubu. Nigerian officials promptly banned it from all streaming platforms.
In response to the 2020 #EndSARS and 2024 #EndBadGovernance protests—both grassroots movements against repression—the government has increasingly relied on digital censorship to curb dissent. This includes partial internet shutdowns during protests and the broad application of loosely-defined cybercrime and “fake news” laws to monitor and suppress youth-led digital activism. These developments have created a climate of fear in which core democratic principles and freedoms are under threat.
APC’s Crackdown on Dissent by Silencing Journalists
Ever since the All Progressives Congress (APC)—Nigeria’s conservative centre-right party—came to power in 2015, the country witnessed a dramatic rise in attacks on dissent. The notoriously disputed 2023 elections, in which the APC remained in power thanks to “major logistical problems, disenfranchised voters and a lack of transparency by INEC,” symbolise this shift. According to data from Press Tracker, there were just 68 documented incidents in the seven years before 2015 in which officials regularly monitored, attacked, and arbitrarily arrested journalists. Between 2015 and 2022, that number surged to 750 verified cases.
One such case is that of Daniel Ojukwu, a journalist detained last year under the Cybercrime Act after publishing an investigative report that exposed corruption. His reporting alleged that a government minister, tasked with achieving the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals, misused public funds. The official allegedly ordered the transfer of more than $106,000 to a restaurant in the capital. The government had earmarked the funds to build a school and a learning centre. According to Ojukwu, they never built these facilities.
Another case involves Omoyele Sowore, who officials detained after he reported on national corruption. They arrested him on treason charges after he called for a protest dubbed “Revolution Now,” claiming he intended to overthrow the government. Although the court released Sowore on bail, authorities detained him again the next day under controversial circumstances.
Protests Met With Brutality
Besides journalists, protesters have also been a part of the main target of this systematic oppression. The #EndBadGovernance movement, a series of demonstrations against corruption and mismanagement in August last year, saw citizens express frustration with corruption, unemployment, and poor governance. Police intervention during the protests resulted in the deaths of 24 unarmed protesters. Amnesty International reported that officers “fired live ammunition at close range, often at the head or torso,” suggesting an intent to kill. In the aftermath, more than 1,200 people were detained, including minors.
This growing oppression mirrors the expanding reach and influence of social media in Nigeria. Once heralded during the Arab Spring as a tool for revolution, social media is now increasingly viewed with skepticism. Rather than empowering movements, it has also become part of the authoritarian arsenal used to suppress dissent.
In the case of Nigeria, the fear of a possible revolution from the government’s perspective was exaggerated by the country’s demographics, with over 60% of the population under the age of 25. A generation that’s not only more connected through the digital world but also represents the future of Africa’s most populous democracy.
The System Behind the Suppression
If we examine the systematic design behind this oppression, the Cybercrime Act (CA)—introduced in 2015—forms a critical part of the government’s toolkit. Citizens widely criticized the CA, originally designed to address online crimes such as cyberstalking, internet fraud, and the spread of misinformation. Despite its seemingly protective aims, the law has frequently been applied in ways that suppress dissent.
Sections 24 and 50, in particular, have garnered significant attention and criticism from the media and human rights organizations. Section 24 criminalises the dissemination of false information that “annoys” or “insults” others, with penalties of up to three years in prison and/or a fine of ₦7 million (approximately $4,800).
Although the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) Court ordered the Nigerian government to revise the law, specifically to remove vague terms like “annoyance,” “injury,” and “anxiety,” these provisions remain in use. Authorities continue to rely on them to harass journalists and citizens. Section 50 permits the authorities to transfer detainees across state lines for trial, often infringing on due process and creating logistical barriers to legal representation.
State Surveillance and International Complicity
Beyond the CA, the government has expanded its surveillance and intimidation tactics. These include freezing the bank accounts of #EndSARS activists and funders without legal justification, as well as intercepting SMS and phone communications of journalists and civil society members. These surveillance practices have been closely supported and funded by the UK government.
In 2015, Nigeria formed a “Joint Case Team on Cybercrime,” integrating key Nigerian agencies with direct support from the UK’s National Crime Agency. A visit to the Nigerian cybercrime department of David Hanson, UK Home Office minister, resulted in him praising the place as a “centre of excellence”.
This appreciation for the suppression of dissent is therefore not surprising, as the United Kingdom benefits economically if the APC remains in power, due to its economic interest in Nigerian oil and its investments. And by praising Nigeria’s surveillance systems, the UK fails to hold Nigeria accountable for issues such as rigged elections and violations of political freedoms.
Legal Resistance: GAZEL’s Fight for Justice
In Nigeria, many citizens who cannot afford private legal representation must rely on public defenders. However, due to the shortage of public defenders, Nigeria’s judicial system faces chronic delays, with some trials stretching up to ten years. This is where organizations like GAZEL play a crucial role. GAZEL is an organization that provides urgent legal assistance to individuals who have been unjustly detained, often securing their releases.
In an interview with Spheres of Influence, Isaac Sylvester Agih, a lawyer at GAZEL, notes that many cases concerning the Cybercrime Act, particularly those targeting journalists and activists, are ultimately won. However, that does not diminish the fact that officials continue to persecute many individuals under unequal and undemocratic conditions. “Even under the slightest provocations, people are being arrested, and there has been no stagnation after the 2023 amendment of the Cybercrime Act,” Agih notes.
Section 50 of the law further compounds these injustices by allowing police to transfer detainees to different states for trial. Bail conditions often require individuals to “provide someone with a certain amount of money in the bank account or with a landed property within the region of the lawsuit,” Agih says. Making it systematically challenging, especially for lower-income individuals, to get out on bail.
Protest Suppression and The Illusion of Reform
Protests in Nigeria have become markedly more restricted compared to a decade ago. In the past, demonstrators carried “coffins with pictures of the president’s head on them,” as Agih states, but today, protests are more subdued and often closely monitored by the state.
The Lekki Toll Gate shootings, in which the police killed 12 peaceful protesters, have come to symbolize the deterioration of civil liberties. Authorities now confine demonstrations to specific and limited spaces, such as stadiums, which curtails their ability to grow, spread through cities, or foster broader public unity. Fear of retaliation has left many citizens unwilling to express dissenting views that do not align with government narratives.
This atmosphere of fear extends beyond protesters and journalists. Many of Isaac’s colleagues have experienced some form of intimidation, either by the state or the complainant. Ironically, the protests of the last few years haven’t changed much, according to Isaac. When asked whether the #EndSARS movement, which began to dismantle the notorious Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) who killed and used excessive use force against peaceful protesters —achieved any lasting change, Isaac laughed. “The government just changed their name,” he said. Although the government officially dissolved SARS on October 11, 2020, a new unit called SWAT quickly took its place. Many Nigerians now refer to this as “old wine in a new bottle,” as reports of violence and police abuse continue under a different label.
What’s Next for Digital Freedom?
Looking ahead, freedom of digital expression in Nigeria remains in a precarious position. Isaac warns that conditions will continue to deteriorate unless there is a change in political leadership. He also mentions that “not only activists should fight this problem, but that it is a universal problem that should be fought in all layers of society’s system.”
Despite the efforts of organizations like GAZEL and the resilience of activists resisting state oppression, Nigeria’s increasingly authoritarian stance suggests that repression will likely deepen before any meaningful reforms take root. The ambiguous clause of the Cybercrime Act, coupled with tactics like internet shutdowns, surveillance, and the criminalization of dissent, consistently stifle free speech and peaceful protests.
However, Nigeria’s regional and international relationships influence its domestic policies. The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) court, a regional political and economic union of 15 West African countries, has issued rulings calling for amendments to the Cybercrime Act, particularly targeting vague language that criminalizes dissent.
In addition, Nigeria’s historical ties to the United Kingdom and its commitments under international human rights frameworks can create external pressure to uphold civil liberties. The UK, as a key diplomatic and economic partner, has at times criticized Nigeria’s human rights record, suggesting that diplomatic leverage could be used to promote democratic accountability.
However, this statement can easily be seen as a window dressing statement, since the UK itself lacks in holding Nigeria accountable for violently suppressing its citizens. Isaac also notes that the UK’s quick endorsement of the 2023 elections, despite national and international allegations of fraud, comes as no surprise, as it aligns with the UK’s “economic and strategic interests, as Tinubu’s track record as a former governor was viewed favorably by UK analysts.”
A Crossroads for Digital Rights
Nevertheless, the actual impact of external pressure remains questionable. Authoritarian governments like Nigeria’s frequently reject international criticism, framing it as an intrusion on national sovereignty. Domestically, the government’s characterization of dissent as a security threat continues to entrench fear and control, rather than fostering openness or reform. In response, grassroots movements are adapting by using encrypted communications and legal advocacy networks to resist repression and defend civil liberties.
Nigeria faces a crossroads: it may slide further into digital authoritarianism or witness the rise of a more resilient, technologically-empowered resistance. The outcome will depend not only on internal political dynamics but also on the strength and consistency of regional and international commitments to uphold digital rights and democratic freedoms.
Edited by Atena Abbaspourbenis
