Every election season brings a fresh wave of digital chaos. A single WhatsApp message, written in a panic and forwarded dozens of times, can convince people that a candidate has withdrawn, that ballot boxes have been stuffed, or that soldiers from a neighboring country have crossed the border. A manipulated TikTok video can show a leader saying something they never said, while an urgent breaking-news alert on Facebook, designed to look perfectly authentic, can push citizens into the streets. In democracies around the world, such falsehoods corrode the very idea of informed consent. Africa is no exception. As artificial intelligence makes it increasingly easy to fake voices, faces, and footage, many governments now say they are investing heavily in media literacy and fact-checking to help citizens defend themselves. But behind this well-meaning language lies a murkier reality. Some governments genuinely want to protect public understanding; others use the fight against misinformation as a shield, cracking down on critics, silencing dissenting voices, and steering public opinion in directions that suit those in power. The struggle is not simply truth versus lies. It is also about who gets to define the truth—and whether ordinary people are being educated, or managed, by those who hold power.
Civil society groups have stepped into the gaps that governments leave open, but their work is fragile and underfunded. Dani Madrid-Morales, a journalism lecturer at the University of Sheffield, is blunt about the scale of the problem: very few countries, if any, are doing a genuinely good job at beating the influence of fake news. Yet across Africa, civil society initiatives are trying to fill the void. In South Africa, organizations such as Africa Check and Media Monitoring Africa work together to highlight how disinformation distorts elections. Similar coalitions exist in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Senegal. These groups train journalists, verify claims, and publish fact-checks in local languages. But their work tends to spike around election periods and then fade, because funding dries up and sustained engagement with communities is hard to maintain. Meanwhile, governments themselves are often part of the problem. Madrid-Morales distinguishes between three types of disinformation: scams that ordinary citizens fall for, foreign influence operations designed to shape public opinion from outside, and political disinformation campaigns that originate inside a country to deliberately derail impartial views. Governments, he argues, are particularly interested in that third category. In the Sahel, for example, military governments in Burkina Faso and Mali have shut down media outlets, prosecuted journalists, and expelled foreign correspondents. Their aim is not necessarily to recruit followers, but to prevent negative information about themselves from circulating at all. In such environments, civil society organizations become lifelines for democracy, yet they are also the first to be accused of being agents of foreign powers.
Foreign powers, for their part, are deeply involved in shaping how Africans see the world. Afrobarometer, a pan-African research network, asked people across the continent how they viewed the influence of major international actors. More than 60 percent of respondents saw China’s political and economic influence positively, while 52 percent viewed the United States positively. Neither China nor the United States has a colonial history in Africa, which partly explains their favorable standing; both are also heavily invested in infrastructure projects and economic partnerships that generate goodwill. The picture for former colonial powers is very different. In French-speaking countries, only 34 percent of respondents viewed France’s ongoing influence positively, a difference that reflects the lingering memory of past injustices and contemporary frustrations. But Komi Amewonou from Afrobarometer warns against assuming that these attitudes are the result of targeted propaganda campaigns. Instead, he suggests, they are often produced by local governments that let negative perceptions run their course rather than actively encouraging a more balanced view. Foreign influence is therefore not always a matter of clever disinformation operations. Sometimes it is simply a space that other powers occupy because local leaders fail to shape the narrative themselves. This makes the information environment even more volatile: people may distrust traditional sources, turn to social media for answers, and become vulnerable to both foreign messages and domestic manipulation, all while governments claim they are trying to protect the public.
In some countries, media literacy initiatives are trying to give people the tools to think for themselves. In Ghana, the NGO Penplusbytes runs a project called Caravan of Hope, supported by the German development agency GIZ and DW Akademie. It takes media literacy training directly to rural communities through theater performances, role-playing exercises, public discussions, and videos in local languages. The project has reached around 3,000 people in five districts so far. It deliberately involves trusted community figures, because studies show that people are most likely to believe those they know personally—traditional village leaders, elders, and local representatives. Rebecca Avusu, who helped develop the project, says the core message is simple: information must be verified before people believe it or pass it on. This is especially important for those without smartphones or with limited formal education, who are often left out of digital safety discussions. South Africa has taken a similar approach. Africa Check, one of the continent’s best-known fact-checking organizations, visits schools and teaches students how to identify manipulated images, verify sources, and deal with misinformation circulating in WhatsApp groups. But there is a downside to media literacy programs as well. Madrid-Morales points to research from South Africa showing that while some young people become more discerning, others lose trust in almost every source they encounter. They end up not knowing what to believe at all, which can be just as dangerous as believing false information. Media literacy, in other words, is not a magic bullet. It can be empowering, but if it is not balanced with respect for reliable journalism and public institutions, it can also create confusion, cynicism, and a retreat from civic life.
Elsewhere on the continent, the fight against disinformation has become entangled with government power in deeply troubling ways. In Nigeria, the International Media and Information Literacy Institute (IMILI) was recently opened in Abuja under the auspices of UNESCO, with a mission to promote research, training, and international cooperation in media literacy. The Nigerian government has spoken of wanting to play a leading role in Africa in the struggle against fake news. But civil rights groups say the state often blurs the line between fighting disinformation and silencing dissent. A law designed to stop false information can easily be used to punish a journalist who criticizes the government, or a citizen who shares an uncomfortable opinion. In Kenya, similar concerns have arisen. The Media Council of Kenya has been tasked with supporting journalists and boosting fact-checking initiatives, but its scope of operation is limited by the country’s laws, particularly legislation supposedly intended to target the spread of false information. Critics argue that such laws can be abused to suppress views that oppose the government. Madrid-Morales insists that independent oversight bodies are essential to ensure that people do not refrain from expressing themselves publicly out of fear of reprisal. In Mozambique, the media institute MISA has launched a number of fact-checking initiatives, including MISACheck, which trains young journalists and social activists in verification techniques. Olivia Massango, vice-president of MISA, is skeptical of state authorities. When something becomes inconvenient, she says, the government invokes public interest, but ultimately it often ends up protecting only what suits it. She warns that combating disinformation must never mean criminalizing opinions, criticism, or journalistic work. Her words capture a fear shared by many across the continent: that the legitimate fight against fake news is being twisted into a weapon against free expression.
The influence of European models adds another layer of complexity. More and more African nations are looking to Europe for ways to regulate online content and fight fake news. Morocco and Senegal, for example, have proposed disinformation legislation that is widely inspired by EU standards. Madrid-Morales notes that following strong European legislation can be successful, but only if independent oversight and enforcement mechanisms are put in place. In both Senegal and Morocco, those mechanisms have not yet been established, and both countries have had to contend with political instability influenced by fake news. The danger is that a law written with good intentions becomes a tool for those in power to punish inconvenient voices. Rebecca Avusu echoes this concern, warning that laws designed to combat disinformation should not become instruments for silencing people who question government decisions or express legitimate opinions. The challenge is to build a society where citizens can distinguish between reliable information and falsehood, while still enjoying the freedom to speak, criticize, and debate openly. That balance is incredibly difficult to strike. It requires media literacy programs that are genuinely educational, not politically contrived; fact-checkers who are independent, not state instruments; and laws that protect democracy, not those who hold power. The real test for Africa, and indeed for every democracy, is whether we can confront misinformation without losing the very freedoms that democracy depends on. The technology will continue to evolve, and the lies will become more sophisticated. But the answer is not less public speech. It is more discernment, more trust in independent institutions, and a commitment to protecting the human right to know, and to question, and to disagree.