When the Sultan of Sokoto and President-General of the Nigerian Supreme Council for Islamic Affairs, Alhaji Muhammad Sa’ad Abubakar III, recently called on the Federal Government to establish a law regulating the use of social media, his words struck a deep national chord. To many Nigerians, the Sultan’s concern captured a growing anxiety — that the country’s digital space has become dangerously unrestrained, breeding insults, misinformation, and division on a scale never witnessed before. Yet to others, his call stirred fears of a return to censorship and political control of free expression.
In truth, the Sultan’s message reflects a dilemma at the heart of modern communication: how do we preserve the moral and social fabric of our society without silencing the voices that make democracy thrive? To understand this, we must look closely at the existing legal landscape and the capacity of the institutions meant to regulate the media.
Nigeria’s social media environment is both empowering and destructive. It gives ordinary citizens a voice, enabling them to hold power to account and connect across boundaries. But it has also become a theatre of unfiltered aggression, where anger replaces reason and falsehoods travel faster than facts. The Sultan’s appeal for a law, therefore, is less about restriction and more about responsibility — a moral reminder that liberty without limits can easily turn into chaos.
Contrary to what many believe, Nigeria is not without legal instruments to tackle online misconduct. The Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act of 2015 already criminalizes various forms of online abuse such as cyberstalking, identity theft, harassment, and the deliberate spread of false information. The Data Protection Act of 2023, which evolved from the earlier NDPR framework, protects citizens’ personal data and privacy, both of which are frequently violated in the online space. Even the provisions of the Criminal and Penal Codes on defamation and incitement apply to social media activities.
In theory, therefore, Nigeria has enough laws to check abuse on digital platforms. The real weakness lies not in the absence of law, but in its enforcement. Law enforcement agencies often lack the technical know-how to trace offenders who hide behind pseudonyms and encrypted networks. Investigations into digital crimes are slow and cumbersome, and prosecutions are rare. As a result, offenders act with impunity while victims are left with little or no justice.
Another often-overlooked layer of regulation lies in the Nigeria Broadcasting Code, administered by the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC). Traditionally, the Code governs radio, television, and other broadcast media, setting standards on fairness, decency, and public interest. The sixth edition of the Code, revised in 2020, attempted to expand the NBC’s supervisory powers to include online broadcasting platforms such as web-based services and live streaming channels. The Code clearly forbids hate speech, fake news, and materials that could incite violence or threaten national unity. It also requires broadcasters to ensure factual accuracy and balance in their reports.
However, social media operates in a fundamentally different universe from traditional broadcasting. The Broadcasting Code assumes the presence of editorial control and institutional responsibility — conditions absent in the user-driven chaos of social media. Millions of Nigerians post content simultaneously without any gatekeeping. The question, therefore, is whether the NBC has the technical and institutional capacity to monitor, let alone regulate, such an open ecosystem.
This question leads to the heart of the problem. The NBC still relies heavily on manual monitoring methods to supervise traditional radio and television stations across the country. Its monitoring centers in Abuja, Lagos, and other zones use outdated systems that depend on human observation and physical logging of content. Even with traditional broadcasters, this method is laborious and inadequate. Extending it to the boundless world of social media — where millions of users generate content every second — borders on impossibility.
The Commission’s technical infrastructure is weak, and its staff strength is too small to keep pace with the speed of digital communication. Beyond that, social media platforms are global corporations, operating beyond Nigeria’s jurisdiction. Their servers, algorithms, and decision-making structures are outside NBC’s control. Even if the Commission identifies harmful content, it has neither the legal authority nor the technological reach to compel global platforms to take action swiftly.
Without modern tools such as automated monitoring systems, artificial intelligence-based content analysis, and international cooperation, the NBC cannot effectively regulate social media. Attempting to do so with its current structure would be like trying to catch rain with a basket.
That said, the Sultan’s call should not be dismissed as an attempt to muzzle freedom. It is, at its core, a moral appeal — a plea for responsibility, restraint, and respect in our online interactions. His concern reflects a broader societal fear that the digital space is eroding civility, decency, and empathy — values essential to peace and coexistence. But morality cannot be legislated in isolation. It must be supported by education, awareness, and justice.
Nigeria’s past efforts to enact special “social media” or “hate speech” laws were met with public resistance because they were poorly conceived. Many citizens feared that such laws would become tools for silencing critics or suppressing political dissent. The challenge, therefore, is not whether to regulate, but how to do so wisely — balancing the need for order with the right to free expression.
A more effective path forward lies in modernizing existing laws and institutions. The Cybercrimes Act should be enforced more rigorously, supported by well-trained digital investigators and improved inter-agency collaboration. The Broadcasting Code should be updated to clarify its scope and harmonize it with the realities of online platforms, distinguishing between institutional media and personal expression. The NBC itself must undergo a digital transformation, adopting advanced monitoring systems and partnering with global tech companies to track harmful content without infringing on privacy or free speech.
Equally important is the need for digital literacy across society. Nigerians — young and old — must learn to navigate the online world responsibly, to verify information before sharing, and to disagree without demeaning others. Religious leaders, educators, and the media all have roles to play in this moral and civic reorientation.
Ultimately, Nigeria may not need an entirely new social media law. What it needs is a coordinated system that strengthens existing frameworks, enforces them fairly, and adapts them to new technological realities. It needs institutions that are modern, efficient, and transparent. And above all, it needs citizens who understand that freedom of speech carries with it the duty of truth and respect.
The Sultan of Sokoto has voiced what many Nigerians silently feel — that our digital environment is losing its soul. But restoring that soul requires more than punishment; it demands education, empathy, and shared responsibility. Regulation, in this sense, should not aim to silence voices but to civilize them. Because the real battle for Nigeria’s online future will not be won by laws alone, but by the awakening of conscience in every user who presses “post.”
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