It was a Monday morning in Abuja, and the mood inside the conference hall was far from routine. Journalists, election monitors, civil society leaders, and international diplomats had gathered for a two-day National Summit on Electoral Information Integrity, all of them carrying the same heavy concern: Nigerian democracy is in trouble, not necessarily because of violence or ballot box theft, but because of a quieter, more insidious threat—information pollution. At the center of the gathering was Dr. Lanre Arogundade, the Executive Director of the International Press Centre, who opened the summit with a sobering reminder of what had already happened. In the 2023 general elections, voter turnout fell to 26.7 percent, the lowest since Nigeria returned to democratic rule in 1999. That number means more than seven out of every ten registered Nigerians chose not to vote, and while many factors contributed to that apathy, Arogundade and others see the spread of false information and the erosion of public trust as central culprits. The summit, themed “Beyond the Ballot: Safeguarding Electoral Information Integrity in the Age of AI,” was designed to confront this reality head-on. The central question was not just why Nigerians stayed home in 2023, but how to ensure that by 2027 they can trust what they see, hear, and read enough to participate in their own democracy.
Arogundade did not present the problem as a vague worry. He brought data, and the data painted a stark picture of an information environment that has changed dramatically since the last election cycle. Citing findings attributed to the Nigeria Fact-Checkers Coalition, he revealed that 63 percent of claims related to presidential and National Assembly elections reviewed during the 2023 campaign were entirely false. Even more alarming, false claims spread to secondary social media platforms within an average of eleven minutes—fast enough to reach millions of people before any verification could take place. This is not an abstract problem. In a country with roughly 148 million internet users, where a recent survey showed that 52 percent rely primarily on social media for political news, the platforms where Nigerians form their opinions are the same platforms where deception thrives. In the South-East, the reliance on social media for political news exceeded 82 percent, and more than four in ten voters in that region reportedly did not verify information they received through these channels. Imagine that for a moment: a voter in Enugu or Aba scrolls through their phone, sees a video or a post claiming that a candidate has stepped down, or that results have been manipulated, and simply accepts it because it aligns with their fears or hopes. No fact-checking, no pause, no question about the source. When most people get their political reality from unverified social media, the consequences are not just personal—they become national. Arogundade warned that this environment makes citizens increasingly vulnerable to manipulation, and he made clear that the old approach of simply urging people to be careful is no longer enough.
The rapid evolution of technology is making the problem even more dangerous, and this was one of the most striking parts of Arogundade’s address. He pointed to the growing use of voice cloning, forged result sheets, and other forms of digitally manipulated content, warning that these tools can make it almost impossible for ordinary citizens to distinguish authentic information from deliberate falsehoods. Consider what this means in practice. A few years ago, a fake news story might have been a badly written website or a blurry image. Today, artificial intelligence can replicate a politician’s voice with chilling accuracy, produce videos of people saying things they never said, and generate documents that look officially perfect. The threat, however, cuts in two directions. Arogundade expressed deep concern that genuine evidence could now be dismissed as AI-generated. This is a new kind of accountability crisis: if every video, recording, or document can be labeled a deepfake, then even the most truthful evidence can be neutralized. A journalist could capture a real conversation showing electoral malpractice, and a tech-savvy official could simply say, “That’s AI,” and watch the public discussion dissolve into confusion. This dynamic does not just weaken the chances of holding bad actors accountable; it corrodes the very idea of shared truth. When nothing can be proven, everything becomes suspect, and in that fog, democratic institutions struggle to function. For ordinary Nigerians, the practical effect is paralyzing. They may see something that matters for their lives, their communities, or their country, but they no longer know whether they can trust their own eyes and ears. That is a profoundly disorienting experience, and it feeds directly into the kind of withdrawal and cynicism that led to the record-low turnout in 2023.
This is why Arogundade’s message went beyond merely describing the problem. He urged stakeholders to move past awareness campaigns and establish practical mechanisms for identifying, verifying, and responding to information threats before, during, and after elections. In particular, he proposed the creation of an Electoral Information Integrity Response Protocol and the adoption of what he called an Abuja Commitment—a framework that would allow Nigerian institutions to coordinate their actions before the 2027 general elections. “Awareness alone is insufficient,” he said. “Nigeria needs a trusted, coordinated, rights-respecting system enabling institutions to anticipate threats, verify evidence, escalate incidents, and communicate authoritatively.” The language may sound technical, but the underlying idea is deeply human. In a society facing an information emergency, there must be an emergency response system, much like the one that exists for public health crises or natural disasters. When a dangerous rumor begins to spread, someone needs to be able to flag it, verify it, debunk it, and reassure the public with credible information. That cannot be improvised on election day; it must be planned, tested, and staffed long before voting begins. Arogundade stressed that all institutions, systems, and people must be ready, and safeguards must be in place before the first ballot is cast in 2027. His proposal was not about censorship or control; it was about building a trusted network that could protect the integrity of information while respecting the rights of citizens and journalists. The summit itself, organized by the International Press Centre in collaboration with the Centre for Media and Society and Development Alternatives Incorporated, with support from the European Union Support to Democratic Governance in Nigeria, was an attempt to lay the groundwork for exactly that kind of coordination.
The European Union Ambassador to Nigeria and ECOWAS, Gautier Mignot, brought an international perspective that echoed and deepened the concerns raised by Arogundade. Mignot warned that an election can be undermined without a single ballot being altered or a single voting machine being touched. He spoke of the power of fabricated announcements to send voters to the wrong polling location, and of false claims about results that can deepen suspicion before verified information ever reaches the public. “The immediate target is information; the deeper target is trust,” he said. This is a crucial observation, because it shifts the focus from protecting physical ballots to protecting the psychological and social foundations of democracy. Mignot acknowledged that information manipulation during elections is a growing challenge across Europe and Africa alike, and he noted that advances in artificial intelligence have made deceptive content easier to produce and more difficult to detect. Yet he also offered an important caution: technology should not become the entire story. “A misleading message does not need sophisticated AI to cause harm,” he said, “nor should uncertainty about whether a recording is AI-generated prevent us from checking whether the instruction it contains is genuine.” In other words, citizens and institutions should not become so obsessed with deepfakes that they forget to ask basic questions: Does this information make sense? Is this source reliable? What does the official record say? The task, Mignot insisted, is broader than detecting fake videos; it is to build an electoral and information environment in which reliable information is available, institutions communicate credibly, independent journalism can flourish, and manipulation meets a prepared response. He identified three priorities for Nigeria as it prepares for 2027: early preparedness, stronger partnerships, and the protection of democratic rights. On preparedness, he was blunt: “Election day is too late to establish verification contacts, clarify responsibilities, or agree on who can authorise a public correction. Those arrangements should be developed and tested now.” On partnerships, he called for collaboration among electoral institutions, digital platforms, media organizations, and civil society. And on rights, he delivered a warning that was both timely and essential: countering manipulation must never become a justification for silencing criticism, suppressing inconvenient reporting, or treating political disagreement as a threat. He reminded the room that a citizen questioning an institution is not necessarily spreading misinformation, and a journalist reporting a failure is performing a democratic function.
As the summit unfolded, there was a sense that this was not just another conference with another set of lofty declarations. The stakes were concrete, and the clock was ticking. Already, the Independent National Electoral Commission has begun preparing for 2027, announcing measures to strengthen its capacity to address emerging technological threats, including the establishment of an artificial intelligence unit. The commission has also assured Nigerians that algorithms will not determine the outcome of the 2027 elections. But Arogundade and others at the summit made clear that institutional promises are not enough. An AI unit on paper means little without adequate capacity, effective coordination, and appropriate safeguards. The systems must be tested, the people must be trained, and the protections for civil liberties must be woven into every procedure. The summit’s theme, “Beyond the Ballot,” captured this idea perfectly: safeguarding election integrity is not just about what happens at the polling station on election day. It is about the months and years of information flows that shape voters’ perceptions, the relationships between institutions and citizens, and the ability of independent voices to tell the truth without fear. The low turnout in 2023 was a symptom of a deeper sickness—a loss of faith in the idea that voting makes a difference. Rebuilding that faith will not happen through a single initiative or a single election cycle. It will require sustained, patient, coordinated work by all actors in Nigerian society. It will also require a level of honesty and humility, an acknowledgment that the information crisis is real, that no institution is immune to it, and that the solutions cannot be imposed from above but must be built together. If the conversations in Abuja signal anything, it is that Nigeria still has time to get this right. The 2027 elections are not yet here, and the choices made now, in newsrooms, in government offices, on digital platforms, and in living rooms across the country, will determine whether the next election can be trusted. The task is enormous, but as the summit demonstrated, so is the determination to meet it. Democracy, after all, is not a machine that runs itself; it is a human project, and it survives only as long as people believe in it and act on that belief. The road to 2027 will not be easy, but with honest leadership, rigorous verification, and a renewed commitment to truth, Nigeria can still prove that the ballot is stronger than the lie.