The legal storm swirling around AREWA24 and the Northern Broadcast Media Owners Association (NBMOA) has revived an old debate about the reach of Nigeria’s broadcasting laws. When Justice Omotosho of the Federal High Court in Abuja recently dismissed NBMOA’s case against the Hausa-language satellite channel, ruling that it is a content creator rather than a broadcaster, the decision struck a chord with many who have long wondered where exactly AREWA24 fits into Nigeria’s regulatory framework.
This is not the first time the question has been raised. Years back, when a controversy erupted over the Kano State Censors Board banning some of AREWA24’s programmes, I, in a Facebook post and later in an interview with the BBC Hausa Service Radio, explained that the channel’s status was not straightforward.
TheNational Broadcasting Commission, as the regulator, licenses terrestrial broadcasters—those who transmit directly from Nigerian soil. It also licenses satellite channels that uplink or downlink signals from within Nigeria. But AREWA24, while it has a production studio in Kano, beams its signals from abroad. In that sense, it does not need a conventional NBC licence to operate as a free-to-air satellite channel. Its relationship with NBC arises only when it seeks to be included in pay-TV bouquets such as StarTimes. In that context, it obtained a Digital Satellite Broadcast licence, a recognition that its distribution through Nigerian platforms requires some regulatory oversight.
That dual status explains why the matter is so contentious. On the one hand, AREWA24 looks and acts very much like a local broadcaster. It maintains offices in Kano and Lagos, produces Hausa dramas and imported content for Nigerian audiences, and issues advertising rate cards in naira to Nigerian clients. On the other hand, its technical transmission is routed through facilities abroad, making it similar in nature to channels like the BBC, the Voice of America, and Radio France Internationale, which all broadcast into Nigeria without NBC licences because they do not transmit from within the country. It was precisely this distinction that I stressed in my earlier clarification, and the same confusion remains at the heart of the current dispute.
NBMOA insists that this distinction is too convenient, arguing that AREWA24 should be bound by the same obligations that Nigerian broadcasters face. From their perspective, it is unfair that indigenous stations struggle under the heavy weight of regulation, local content requirements, and licensing fees, while a foreign-owned channel with offices in Nigeria can sidestep much of this and still compete for the same advertisers and audience. They describe it as an uneven playing field that undermines local industry and even threatens national security and cultural policy.
Yet the matter is complicated by the fact that some stations associated with NBMOA have also relied on satellite distribution models. Channels like Liberty TV, Farin Wata TV, and even bigger players like TVC all transmit via satellite, and questions have occasionally been raised as to whether their arrangements meet the NBC’s strictest interpretation of licensing requirements. This raises the uncomfortable possibility that NBMOA’s grievance with AREWA24 is not simply about regulation but also about market rivalry, with both sides exploiting grey areas in the broadcast code to their advantage.
Justice Omotosho, in dismissing NBMOA’s case, took a narrow view of the law. By classifying AREWA24 as a content creator and not a broadcaster, the court effectively placed it in the same category as foreign networks broadcasting into Nigeria from abroad. In doing so, the judgment reinforced the interpretation that Nigeria’s jurisdiction stops at its borders unless a station directly transmits from within. The ruling has been condemned by NBMOA as a miscarriage of justice and they have taken the matter to the Court of Appeal, hoping for a broader reading of the NBC Act that would recognize uplink and downlink facilities in Kano as broadcast activities in their own right.
The implications are enormous. If the appeal fails, the decision could open the door for more foreign-owned channels to replicate AREWA24’s model, setting up offices and studios in Nigeria but transmitting via satellite from abroad, thereby operating beyond NBC’s full control. If the appeal succeeds, the courts could strengthen the regulator’s hand, forcing all such channels to seek licences and comply with local broadcasting codes. Either way, the case exposes the ambiguity of Nigeria’s media laws in an age where content creation and signal transmission are no longer neatly separated.
The AREWA24 controversy is not just about one station. It is about whether Nigeria’s broadcast regulation can keep pace with modern technology and globalized media. It is about whether the law should privilege openness to foreign investment or lean toward protecting indigenous broadcasters and cultural sovereignty. And it is about the delicate balance between competition, fairness, and national interest in a media landscape where boundaries are increasingly blurred.
As the matter shifts to the Court of Appeal, the outcome will determine more than the fate of AREWA24. It will test the strength of Nigeria’s broadcasting code itself, deciding whether it is robust enough to regulate a hybrid media environment or too narrow to capture the complexities of satellite-era broadcasting. What I observed years ago about AREWA24’s unique regulatory position has now become the very subject of a legal battle, showing just how unsettled Nigeria’s broadcasting landscape remains.