On a bright morning in Lagos, a room full of journalists, lawyers and civil society campaigners gathered with a sense of urgency. They had come for a conference, but the mood felt closer to a collective reckoning with Nigeria’s information crisis. The event was organised by the Media Rights Agenda (MRA) and the International Press Centre (IPC) to commemorate the 2026 International Day for Universal Access to Information (IDUAI). The theme, “Freedom of Information in the Age of Disinformation: Why Transparency Matters More Than Ever,” captured an anxious moment in which social media echo chambers, deepfakes and coordinated disinformation campaigns have blurred the line between fact and falsehood. Participants came ready to speak, and they did not mince words. Their central demand was that public institutions prioritise proactive disclosure, publishing information before it is requested rather than waiting for citizens to fight for every document. They argued that in an age of disinformation, disclosure is not a bureaucratic courtesy but a public safety measure. When official data is hidden, withheld or released too late, the public is left with a vacuum. Into that vacuum rush rumour, conspiracy theories, manipulated videos and political propaganda. The conference’s opening statement was blunt: systemic secrecy and poor compliance with Nigeria’s Freedom of Information (FOI) Act, 2011, have undermined public trust and made the country more vulnerable to disinformation. The challenge, as many speakers noted, is not a lack of laws. It is a lack of discipline, a lack of accountability and, in some cases, a deliberate strategy to keep citizens in the dark. The conference would spend the rest of the day trying to turn that stark reality into a practical plan.
The problem, as several speakers explained, is not that the law is unknown. Since 2011, Nigeria’s FOI Act has promised citizens the right to request information from public institutions. But more than a decade later, the gap between promise and practice remains wide and painful. Speakers described government agencies that routinely deny Freedom of Information requests without any legal basis. Others ignore the part of the law that requires them to proactively publish records, even when no one asks. Many delay their responses until the information has lost all usefulness, a tactic that quietly destroys the value of investigative journalism. A document that arrives after an election, after a budget has been passed or after a health crisis has worsened is no longer information; it is a museum piece. Participants warned that this culture of secrecy has created a perfect breeding ground for disinformation. When citizens cannot verify what their government is doing, they are more likely to accept whatever story fits their fears or confirms their biases. In that sense, institutional secrecy and false news are partners. The conference heard disturbing reports of institutional impunity: agencies that violate the FOI Act face no meaningful sanctions, and the citizens who challenge them are forced into prolonged legal battles. Even when courts order disclosure, there is often no one to enforce the judgment. The result is a quiet erosion of trust. People begin to believe that the government has something to hide, not because they know it does, but because every attempt to find out is met with silence, evasion or a reply that can only be called silly. This is not just an administrative problem; it is a democratic emergency. A state that cannot explain itself to its own people loses the moral authority to govern. A society that cannot access records cannot hold power accountable. And in a digital age where misinformation travels in seconds, official silence is no longer neutral. It is an invitation to chaos.
Lanre Arogundade, Executive Director of the International Press Centre and one of the conference’s leading voices, drove this argument home. He stressed that fighting fake news requires more than arming citizens with fact-checking skills. It requires public institutions to fulfil their constitutional duty to provide credible data. In his view, the so-called war on disinformation will fail if it is fought only on social media platforms or in newsrooms. The real frontline is inside ministries, agencies and parastatals where records sit under lock and key. Arogundade insisted that transparency is not a favour extended by a generous government; it is a cornerstone of democratic accountability. When officials release information, they surrender their monopoly over the official story. That is uncomfortable for those in power, but it is essential for democracy. He reminded the audience that the FOI Act was passed to empower citizens, not to protect the state. Used properly, the law can expose corruption, reveal waste, improve service delivery and reduce the space for malicious rumours. But the law only works when institutions make information available as a default. Proactive disclosure, he argued, should be the norm, with secrecy the rare and justified exception. The duty to publish is not simply about compliance with a statute; it is about treating citizens as adults who can make their own judgments if given honest information. This reframing was important for many in the room because it moved the conversation away from individual requests and towards systemic openness. The question is no longer whether a particular journalist can obtain a particular document. The question is whether the entire architecture of state power is built to be visible and answerable. The answer, for now, is too often no. Arogundade’s words echoed in later sessions as participants shared stories of public officials who see requests as attacks rather than as opportunities to build trust. Yet he also reminded the audience that change is possible when pressure is sustained and coordinated.
But the conference was not only about legal procedure or press freedom. Participants were deeply concerned that the benefits of the FOI Act are not reaching everyone. A significant gender gap remains in access to information, and the needs of women and other underserved groups are routinely ignored. Even in a country with a vibrant media, many citizens have no idea they have a right to ask for information. Rural women, people with low literacy, persons with disabilities and those living in areas with poor internet connectivity face structural barriers that are rarely discussed in transparency debates. A woman in a remote community may not know that a hospital has received funds for maternal health. If she did, she might ask why the drugs are not on the shelves. But to ask, she would need to know her rights, have the courage to approach an official and possess the resources to pursue the request. These are not small hurdles. The conference heard that when information systems are designed without thinking about gender, poverty and digital exclusion, they end up serving only the privileged. This is dangerous because disinformation often preys on the same marginalised communities. They are the ones most likely to be targeted by false promises, manipulated videos and fake government announcements. Institutional impunity makes the problem worse: officials who know they will face no consequences are less likely to take requests seriously. Participants argued that any meaningful reform of freedom of information must include a deliberate effort to reach women, young people, rural dwellers and other groups forgotten by the current system. This means translating key information into local languages, building community radio programmes, simplifying official documents and training public servants to treat every citizen with respect. It also means acknowledging that access to information is not a luxury reserved for the elite. It is a basic right that underpins all other rights. Where the right is ignored, democracy becomes a formality and the voices of the vulnerable are lost in the noise. This was not an abstract concern. Speakers described how fake news about government policies spreads fastest among communities with limited access to credible sources. Without official information in their hands, people default to WhatsApp forwards and unverified social media posts. The result is that the people most affected by bad governance are also the ones least equipped to challenge it.
To resolve these bottlenecks, delegates did not leave the Lagos conference with a list of complaints. They left with a strategy. One key resolution was to launch coordinated legal actions against wrongful denials of information. Instead of isolated individuals fighting alone, organisations plan to support strategic litigation that will test the limits of the FOI Act, establish clear case law and force courts to act. There was also a strong commitment to build coalitions between media houses and civil society organisations. These coalitions will use the FOI Act not only for daily reporting but for deep investigative work, including tracking state expenditure and following the money behind public contracts. The conference then issued targeted demands to rescue the transparency law. The Attorney-General of the Federation, who carries national responsibility for enforcement, must step in. He must impose strict punitive directives against non-compliant institutions and ensure that public bodies understand the cost of obstruction. The judiciary is not exempt: judges must grant expedited hearings and fast-track judgments in FOI lawsuits, because a case that takes five years to resolve is not justice; it is another form of denial. Public institutions themselves must establish dedicated FOI desks, digitalise their record-keeping and publish information in open, accessible formats. This means more than scanning old files. It means creating a system where information is considered public until proven otherwise. The National Orientation Agency (NOA) was also called upon to launch nationwide public campaigns to educate citizens about their right to information. Many Nigerians simply do not know the law exists. A government that truly wants to fight disinformation would invest in teaching its people how to ask the right questions, where to submit a request and what to do if they are refused. These demands are not technical formalities. Each one is a practical bridge between the promise of the law and the lived experience of citizens. Delegates understood that without such measures, the FOI Act will remain a dormant document. They resolved to track implementation and publicly name and shame offenders. This is not about embarrassing officials; it is about making accountability the default.
In the end, the Lagos conference concluded with a clear and human message: timely access to verifiable official information is the cornerstone of good governance. It is also a shield for ordinary people. In a country where disinformation has become a weapon of political manipulation, official transparency is not merely a legal nicety. It is a way to protect the right of citizens to know the truth about their own lives. The delegates were realistic about the road ahead. Courts are congested, officials are resistant and public awareness is low. There is no magic switch that will suddenly open every portal and unlock every file. But there is a growing coalition of people who refuse to accept secrecy as normal. Journalists are ready to dig deeper. Civil society groups are ready to support them. Citizens are ready to ask questions. What is missing, perhaps, is the political will to meet them halfway. The conference ended with a sense of renewed resolve rather than empty optimism. Through strategic litigation, coalition building and sustained public pressure, the stakeholders made it clear that they will continue to test the FOI Act until it works. They know that information alone will not solve every problem. But without information, no other solution can take root. The conference did not pretend that transparency would be easy. Yet it insisted that the alternative is far worse. Secrecy, delay and denial do not protect public institutions; they destroy them. In an age of disinformation, an open government is the most reliable source of truth, and an informed citizenry is the strongest defence against manipulation. As one participant put it, sunlight does not cure every illness, but no one wants to live in the dark. The demand from Lagos is simple: let the light in, publish the records, answer the questions and trust the people. When that happens, rumours lose their power, lies become easier to expose and democracy takes another step forward.