There is an old saying in media circles that writing a rejoinder is like pouring petrol on fire—it brings more attention to the flame. The argument goes that once you respond to a negative article, those who had not even noticed the original story will now rush to look for it, and worse still, many will end up believing the original version more firmly.
I have often found myself in the middle of this dilemma. In journalism, it is not a theoretical matter; it is a real choice one must make when a story comes out that is inaccurate, damaging, or outright false. Do you let it pass? Or do you confront it head-on with a rejoinder?
In my experience, the first version of a story frames the narrative. Readers absorb it as truth, even if it is incomplete or misleading. Later corrections rarely carry the same weight. That is why fake news so often outruns clarifications.
I remember vividly how the 2014 #BringBackOurGirls campaign unfolded. Early reports about the Chibok abductions were framed in ways that made many Nigerians skeptical, even dismissive. When government voices later tried to issue denials or cautious responses, the damage was already done. The first story had taken root, and everything else was treated as “damage control.”
There have been times when I saw rejoinders backfire spectacularly. During the Goodluck Jonathan years, for instance, his media team—people like Reno Omokri and Reuben Abati—were constantly issuing rejoinders to critics. Each time they did, Nigerians went back to read the original accusations more carefully. The rebuttals often sounded defensive, and instead of calming the storm, they kept controversies alive.
Even outside the presidency, I’ve observed the same pattern. A good example was when the Nigerian Army clashed with Amnesty International over human rights reports. Each rebuttal the military issued—denouncing Amnesty as biased—sent people rushing to read Amnesty’s original report. For some, the vehemence of the army’s denials only reinforced the sense that the allegations were true.
Yet, I have also seen the danger of silence. If a damaging story is left unchallenged, it becomes the only record available.
When President Muhammadu Buhari fell ill in 2017, rumors quickly spread that he had died in a London hospital. The Presidency initially tried silence, hoping the gossip would fade. Instead, that silence gave life to conspiracy theories—including the wild story about a “Jubril from Sudan” body double. By the time photographs and official statements were released as a form of rejoinder, the silence had already cost the government credibility.
Another example I recall was in 2018, when Daily Trust published a hard-hitting report on the Nigerian military’s failures against Boko Haram. The army’s rejoinder was harsh, accusing the paper of undermining national security. Did that response bring more attention to the original story? Certainly. But it also ensured that history would not record only one side. Without that rebuttal, the narrative of a military in total disarray would have stood unchallenged.
What I have learned is that the answer is not to avoid rejoinders entirely, as some ineffective spokespersons always advise, but to issue them with care. A rejoinder should never begin with a flat denial, because that only repeats and reinforces the original claim. It is far more effective to lead with the truth. For example, instead of saying, “It is false that we squandered funds,” the better way is to state clearly what was received and how it was spent.
Equally important is evidence. Readers do not trust mere denials; they trust facts, figures, documents, and verifiable records. Without these, a rejoinder sounds like noise.
There is also the matter of framing. If you respond only within the critic’s narrative, you remain trapped. A more successful rejoinder shifts the conversation entirely. When accused of waste, for instance, the wiser move is to highlight tangible results and the broader context.
And finally, not every accusation deserves a rejoinder. Some stories collapse under their own weakness and disappear if ignored. Others, however, are too damaging to be left unattended. The skill lies in knowing which battles to fight.
So, is the belief correct that rejoinders are always inadvisable? I would say it is a half-truth. Yes, they sometimes revive old fires and risk amplifying baseless accusations. But silence, in many cases, is worse—it allows falsehood to harden into accepted fact.
As a journalist, I have learned that every rejoinder must be weighed like a surgical strike, not fired like a loose cannon. When crafted with evidence, clarity, and a reframing of the narrative, a rejoinder is more than a defense—it is a tool for accountability and truth-telling.
In the end, what matters is not whether you respond, but how you respond.
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