When nearly two million young Nigerians filed into computer-based test centres this year, they carried with them the weight of ambition, sacrifice, and hope. But for 6,458 of them, those dreams were frozen under suspicion—not due to laziness or lack of preparation, but because of high-tech fraud.
In August, the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) launched a probe into thousands of UTME results after uncovering evidence of sophisticated malpractice. Out of the 1,931,467 candidates who sat for the exam, many now face disqualification over allegations of identity manipulation, image blending, and even attempts to hack the local networks of test centres. Nineteen accredited centres were implicated in collusion, revealing a disturbing truth: the very institutions meant to uphold fairness are now part of the problem.
The numbers tell a sobering story. In 2022, only 94 cases of malpractice were reported. In 2023, that number dropped to 84—seemingly a sign of progress. But by 2024, cases surged to 2,157, and in 2025, thousands more are under scrutiny. This exponential rise marks a shift from crude impersonation to coordinated, tech-enabled fraud. What was once the domain of dishonest students has evolved into networks of actors—some insiders—weaponising technology to bend the rules.
JAMB’s introduction of computer-based testing (CBT) in 2013 was meant to shut the door on traditional malpractice. For decades, “miracle centres” had defined Nigeria’s exam fraud industry, leaking papers or providing answers mid-exam. CBT was supposed to end that. But these centres adapted, infiltrating CBT networks to access questions before test time.
Today’s methods are alarmingly advanced. Impersonation has morphed into “finger pairing,” where fraudsters register with multiple fingerprints or use prosthetics to bypass biometric verification. Some candidates even exploit albinism claims to evade biometric cameras. The leak of exam questions has shifted from physical scripts to digital breaches—attempts to infiltrate Local Area Networks, often aided by insiders, resemble cyberattacks more than schoolyard cheating.
The most troubling development is the role of accredited centres. The 19 flagged this year show that malpractice is no longer just a candidate issue—it’s institutional. When exam administrators collude with candidates, the system is compromised from within. Unlike individual cheats, corrupt centres can taint the results of thousands.
Globally, exam fraud is a familiar battle. During the COVID-19 pandemic, universities deployed AI proctoring tools to monitor online exams, only to be outwitted by simple hacks. SAT and GRE organisers faced similar dilemmas. But in Nigeria, the stakes are higher. Exam fraud here is a multi-billion-naira industry, thriving on desperation, weak enforcement, and a culture of shortcuts.
Behind the statistics are real lives. Some candidates may be guilty, but many are innocent—victims of flawed biometric scans, false flags, or corrupt officials. For families who invested years of savings in tutoring and registration, the prospect of losing an academic year is a punishment harsher than the crime.
The broader consequence is a collapse in trust. If candidates and parents believe UTME results can be manipulated or sold, faith in meritocracy crumbles. Education has long been Nigeria’s most reliable ladder of social mobility. But if malpractice dominates headlines, genuine students may begin to wonder whether hard work still pays.
There’s also a reputational cost. Nigerian degrees already face skepticism abroad. News of biometric fraud and hacked exam centres only deepens doubts about the integrity of the system. Even local employers, already wary of graduate competence, gain another reason to question whether degrees reflect ability or fraud.
Perhaps most damaging is the message this sends to the youth. In a country where corruption often feels like the norm, watching peers cheat their way into university without consequence signals that dishonesty is rewarded. Those who learn to hack CBT servers at 17 may later apply the same skills to bank fraud, election rigging, or cybercrime. Instead of nurturing innovators, we risk grooming tech-enabled cheats.
The crisis at JAMB’s doorstep is not just about education—it’s a mirror of Nigeria’s digital fragility. If exam cheats can breach CBT networks and clone fingerprints, what does that say about the security of voter databases, banking systems, or national IDs? A society that tolerates cheating in education is effectively training its next wave of cybercriminals.
Solving this requires more than committees or mass result cancellations. Nigeria is in a digital arms race between regulation and fraud. To win, we must stay ahead. JAMB must invest in stronger digital infrastructure. Biometric verification alone is insufficient. Multi-layered authentication—combining biometrics with behavioural analysis, keystroke recognition, and AI-driven monitoring—should become standard. Accredited centres must undergo rigorous audits. Staff rotation and external oversight can reduce insider collusion. Cybersecurity partnerships are essential. Collaborations with edtech firms and global testing bodies can bring in expertise Nigeria currently lacks.
But JAMB cannot fight this battle alone. Agencies like the National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA) must become active partners. Exam malpractice has crossed into the realm of cybersecurity and demands the same vigilance used to protect banks and government databases.
Technology alone won’t solve this. The deeper battle is cultural. Integrity must be valued as highly as grades. This means harsher penalties for cheats—but also celebrating honest success. Schools should teach digital ethics, helping students understand that hacking an exam is no different from stealing a future.
Speed matters. Innocent students should not suffer months of uncertainty. Swift investigations, transparent appeals, and clear resolutions will help restore public confidence. Without that, every rumour becomes a stain on the entire process.
The UTME was designed to be Nigeria’s fairest gateway into higher education—a system where ability could outshine privilege. But if fraudsters can outwit biometric scanners, compromise exam centres, and infiltrate networks, then meritocracy itself is under siege.
This is not just about JAMB or the 6,458 results under suspicion. It’s about whether Nigeria can still guarantee that talent and hard work are rewarded in a digital age where even honesty feels hackable.
The real exam before the country is not multiple choice—it’s a test of integrity. If Nigeria fails to adapt its education system to the realities of modern technology, it risks nurturing a generation brilliant at beating the system but wholly unprepared to build the nation. And that is a result we cannot afford.
Shuaib S. Agaka is a tech journalist based in Kano.
