It started like a scene from a political thriller—an official-looking document on a presidential letterhead, bearing what appeared to be a legitimate signature, announcing that Mohammed Babangida, son of former military ruler Ibrahim Babangida, had rejected his appointment as Chairman of the Bank of Agriculture. The news exploded across social media, gaining traction and credibility when shared by none other than Dele Momodu, a seasoned media figure. But then came the twist: it was all fake. The public was stunned. If even experienced journalists could fall for such a fabrication, who among us is safe?
This came on the heels of another widely circulated—and equally false—story: that former President Muhammadu Buhari had divorced his wife, Aisha. Again, the story was propagated by notable figures and platforms before being debunked. Yet, the damage was already done. The seed of doubt had been planted, and a familiar question began to echo louder: are we all becoming victims of fake news?
I had my own personal experience. I sent an important document to a relative, only to discover later that he dismissed it as fake and never even opened it. I was genuinely shocked. If legitimate documents are being ignored while cleverly crafted fakes are accepted as truth, then we are deep into a crisis of trust and discernment.
This epidemic of misinformation is alarming. Many people now dismiss real news out of fear it’s fake, while simultaneously falling for cleverly disguised lies that play to their emotions and expectations. It’s not just the uneducated or the “masses.” It’s everyone—from the elite to the everyday citizen. In many conversations with locals or less-informed individuals, I’m often taken aback by the deep-seated ideas they hold—ideas shaped not by facts, but by half-truths and outright lies that spread like wildfire.
Fake news today often travels faster than the truth. Why? Because it’s emotional, sensational, and precisely timed. The creators of fake news are not amateurs—they are emotional tacticians, crafting narratives that hook into public sentiment. They know what you care about, what you fear, what excites you—and they exploit it masterfully.
Take the example of job scams. When a government agency announces a recruitment drive, fake versions of the announcement appear almost instantly. Desperate job seekers, driven by urgency and hope, become easy targets. The news feels real, the urgency feels genuine, and just like that, people are caught in a lie.
We are not just victims—we’re also culprits. The thrill of being the first to share breaking news can override our caution. We click “share” without checking. We judge a story based on its headline, or worse, just the image. I remember once writing an article on rising road accidents. It was published alongside my photo—and within minutes, I started receiving concerned calls from people who thought I had been in a crash. All they saw was the picture and a headline. The details didn’t matter.
Even well-meaning messages can be twisted. I once wrote a thoughtful piece suggesting a candidate should be considered for an appointment. Somehow, it was misconstrued as an official endorsement—and soon, congratulatory messages flooded in. The misinterpretation was both embarrassing and instructive. It showed how easily even clear communication can be hijacked by perception.
The most dangerous fake news stories are those that are “too good to be true”—or worse, those that confirm what we already want to believe. That’s how fake news thrives: wishful thinking, emotional resonance, and just enough plausibility to bypass our internal fact-checker.
Some ads or public announcements are so poorly presented—no institutional name, no location, just a random phone number—that even if genuine, people ignore them. Mistrust is the new default.
But this crisis goes beyond embarrassment or confusion. Fake news is tearing at the social fabric. It fuels hate, deepens ethnic divides, and amplifies anti-government sentiment. It shapes public opinion in subtle yet dangerous ways. Consider this: some Nigerians—educated ones—truly believed that Buhari had died and been replaced by a clone. That narrative, bizarre as it was, gained traction because it fit into an emotional and political narrative that people wanted to believe.
The consequences are massive. Fake news undermines institutions, erodes trust, and makes it harder for people to distinguish fact from fiction. It’s a tool of manipulation—used to sway elections, divide communities, and incite unrest. During the COVID-19 pandemic, misinformation about vaccines ran wild, going largely unchallenged in many areas. As a result, conspiracy theories hardened into “truths,” and anyone offering a different view was seen as suspicious.
It’s now normal to see people become fanatics over mere opinions, shutting down any opposing views. The line between commentary and journalism has blurred. Political figures are now mythologized—first Buhari was the “Messiah” of the North, now Peter Obi is seen by many as a faultless savior. Any news that supports this illusion is shared without question. Any news that challenges it? Instantly attacked.
This isn’t just an online issue. It spills into real life—cyberbullying, harassment, even jungle justice. People are shamed, silenced, or punished simply for having a different view. The truth is increasingly unwelcome if it disrupts the comfort of a popular lie.
The most disappointing aspect? Even the most educated, the so-called gatekeepers of reason, are falling for it. Not because they don’t know better, but because fake news plays to their feelings. And as Prof. Farooq Kperogi once said, in today’s world, “feelings drive news more than evidence.” That’s a scary reality.
So, what can we do? We must first admit that the problem is not just “out there.” It’s within us. Our eagerness to believe, our impulse to share, our unwillingness to question—these are the cracks fake news seeps through. Media literacy is no longer optional; it’s a survival skill. Fact-checking must become second nature. Platforms and publishers must be held to account—but so must we.
The fight against fake news is about more than correcting falsehoods. It’s about protecting democracy, public health, and social harmony. We must choose truth—not because it’s always comfortable or popular, but because without it, everything else eventually falls apart.
Are we all gullible? Maybe. But we don’t have to stay that way.
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