In Jos, Plateau State, a room full of Muslim and Christian religious leaders, media professionals, and community influencers gathered recently for something more urgent than a routine workshop. With Nigeria’s 2027 general election still a couple of years away, they were already confronting a storm: a polluted information landscape in which false stories, manipulated images, and foreign interference are increasingly difficult to distinguish from truth. The two-day event, organised by Alkalanci, a fact-checking and media literacy organisation, in collaboration with the Institute for Media and Digital Innovation (IMDIL), carried the theme “Scaling Faith-Based Resilience Against Disinformation and FIMI.” The goal was not simply to teach people how to spot lies, but to build a durable culture of verification and careful speech among the country’s most influential voices. For centuries, religious leaders have shaped moral life and social trust; now, with elections approaching, their words could either protect a fragile peace or become fuel for violence. The atmosphere reflected that weight. Clerics, imams, pastors, journalists, and youth advocates set aside theological differences to face a common threat. They discussed how misinformation has become a weapon, how artificial intelligence is being used to create convincing fake content, and how foreign actors can exploit local divisions for their own strategic ends. The organisers made clear that this was not theoretical. In previous Nigerian election cycles, disinformation has helped spark violence, deepened ethno-religious mistrust, and damaged public confidence in democratic institutions. By bringing Christian and Muslim leaders together in Jos, the training was designed to create a shared language about truth and harm. The expectation was that participants would leave not only with practical fact-checking skills, but also with a renewed sense of responsibility for every message they share. The silence in the room during the opening talks told the story: this issue is no longer an obscure media concern, but a matter of life and death.
Alhassan Bala, editor of Alkalanci, opened the session with a warning that cut through polite formality. He told the gathering that false information has become one of the gravest threats to Nigeria’s security, social cohesion, and democratic future. What made the danger even more serious, he explained, is technology. The rapid development of artificial intelligence now allows anyone with basic digital tools to fabricate images, videos, and audio recordings that look indistinguishable from authentic material. A fabricated video of a religious leader making inflammatory remarks can go viral in minutes, potentially triggering retaliatory violence before anyone has a chance to issue a correction. As political activities begin to ramp up for the 2027 elections, Bala warned that malicious actors—political opportunists, foreign intelligence agencies, or mere provocateurs—are likely to use these technologies to exploit Nigeria’s religious and ethnic differences. He stressed that the most effective defense is not complex software, but simple discipline: pause, verify, and think before sharing. “When in doubt, do not share,” he said. The line became both a practical instruction and an ethical imperative. Bala urged religious leaders to adopt that principle in their own ministries, because a clergyman’s word carries enormous moral weight. When an imam or pastor repeats a false claim, he said, the lie gains an aura of truth simply because of the source. The consequences can be catastrophic. False statements about attacks on churches or mosques, manipulated tributes, or fabricated election results have, in the past, led to mob violence and reprisal attacks. Bala’s message was clear: whether the misinformation is homemade or imported, whether it is spread deliberately or carelessly, the result is the same. It erodes trust, deepens wounds, and makes peaceful coexistence harder. His words were not a criticism of technology, but a call to renew humanity’s most ancient safeguards: questioning, listening carefully, and refusing to weaponise speech.
Oriola Odetoye, who leads the Cyber and Hybrid Threats Programme for the UK Foreign, Commonwealth and Development Office’s Integrated Security Fund in West Africa, added an international dimension to the conversation. He reaffirmed the United Kingdom’s commitment to helping Nigeria counter foreign information manipulation and other hybrid threats. This support is delivered through the UK-Nigeria Security and Defence Partnership, which recognises that elections are not the only battlegrounds for national stability. In modern conflict, information itself is a weapon. Foreign actors can amplify false narratives, fund social media campaigns, or create fake news sites designed to look Nigerian in order to inflame tensions and distract governments. Odetoye described religious and community leaders as critical stakeholders in this fight because they are trusted far more than institutions or algorithms. When a respected cleric releases a statement, it can calm a community or set it alight. The UK intervention, therefore, is not just about cyber security or technical fixes; it is about investing in trustworthy voices. He disclosed that the programme would be expanded to Plateau, Kano, Adamawa, and Benue states, complementing ongoing federal-level efforts. These states have all felt the impacts of religious, ethnic, or resource-based violence at different times, and their social fabrics remain fragile. Bringing this training directly to local leaders recognises that top-down directives are not enough. The roots of resilience are found in neighbourhoods and congregations, in the conversations that happen after Friday prayers and Sunday services. Odetoye’s presence also reassured participants that the issue is being taken seriously at the highest levels of international partnership. But he was careful not to suggest that foreign support could save Nigeria from itself. The real work, he insisted, must be done by Nigerians—clergy, journalists, parents, and ordinary citizens. External partners can provide training, resources, and encouragement, but they cannot rebuild a community’s immunity to lies. That immunity has to be cultivated from within, one relationship and one truth at a time.
The religious leaders who spoke at the workshop brought the warnings home with moral clarity. Haruna Tanko, representing the Jama’atu Nasril Islam (JNI), cautioned against the deliberate spread of false information for political, religious, or personal gain. He reminded the audience that deception is not just a strategic error; it is a moral failure. In communities already divided along ethnic and religious lines, a single fabricated story can create unnecessary fear, deepen old hatreds, and provoke avoidable crises—especially during election periods. Tanko called on Muslims and Christians to reflect the core teachings of their faiths by upholding truthfulness, peace, and responsible communication. He went further to suggest that misinformation often thrives because of poor governance and unaccountable leadership. When citizens feel unheard, they become more susceptible to conspiracy theories and scapegoating. Trustworthy communication, therefore, must be accompanied by accountable leadership and genuine efforts to improve people’s lives. Similarly, the Chairman of the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN), Plateau State Chapter, Rev. Dunka Gomwalk, urged religious leaders to strengthen interfaith dialogue and encourage their followers to verify information before passing it on. He warned that unverified social media posts and impulsive public comments can do tremendous damage. A statement made in anger or without checking facts can travel rapidly, forcing entire communities to choose sides before the truth is known. Gomwalk said he was optimistic that the workshop would produce practical strategies and collaborative approaches for faith communities to promote mutual coexistence. His presence was particularly significant: Plateau State has experienced repeated cycles of communal violence, and religious leaders often carry the burden of either healing or intensifying those wounds. By standing together, the JNI and CAN representatives sent a message that countering misinformation is not a Christian issue or Muslim issue—it is a shared responsibility. The two leaders, from different traditions, spoke with one voice about the importance of facts, honesty, and the courage to say “I was wrong” when a reposted message turns out to be false. It was a striking image of unity in a divided media landscape.
Alkalanci’s Programme Manager, Bamas Victoria, outlined the methods being used to make this vision concrete. The organisation has been strengthening community resilience through fact-checking training, media literacy initiatives, and public awareness campaigns. It is not enough, she argued, to tell people that misinformation is bad. They need practical skills: how to use reverse image searches, how to read source credibility, how to trace a claim back to its original context, and how to recognise the emotional manipulation that often accompanies fake content. Victoria explained that the programme equips religious leaders, educators, and other stakeholders to identify information manipulation and to distinguish between legitimate opinion, honest error, and deliberate propaganda. One of the most important aspects of the initiative is its multiplier effect. Follow-up training sessions have been held in different locations, allowing participants to transfer what they learned to their own communities. In this way, a single workshop in Jos can ripple outward to villages, towns, and city neighbourhoods, expanding the reach of counter-disinformation efforts far beyond the room’s walls. Victoria expressed confidence in the relationship being built between religious leaders, civil society platforms, and the media. She noted that trust is the most powerful counterweight to falsehood. If citizens have a reliable source to verify information, and if their religious leaders model truthfulness, the demand for fabricated content will begin to shrink. Her remarks were practical and grounded, avoiding abstract rhetoric in favour of hands-on guidance. The participants did not leave with certificates alone; they left with checklists, contacts, and a plan for how to train others when they returned home. In a country where many people receive news through WhatsApp forwards and social media screenshots, grassroots media literacy is not a luxury—it is a necessity. For women and young people, who are often targeted by manipulative content, these skills can be especially empowering. Victoria’s presentation reminded everyone that fact-checking is not a profession reserved for journalists; it is an everyday defence mechanism for societies under information attack.
As the two-day workshop drew to a close, the central message was impossible to ignore: the fight against misinformation will intensify as Nigeria approaches the 2027 general election, and faith leaders will be on the front lines. Organisers said the initiative is designed to empower these leaders to become stronger advocates for truth, peace, and responsible information sharing. But the success of the workshop will be measured not in catchy slogans or photo opportunities, but in the thousands of small decisions participants make in the months ahead. Will they take a second to check before forwarding a viral message? Will they interrupt a conversation that demonises the other religion? Will they be brave enough to correct a falsehood even when it benefits their own side? The stakes are enormous. Elections in Nigeria are tests of institutional strength and social trust, and disinformation has already proven that it can undermine both. The presence of foreign actors and AI-generated content only increases the complexity. This workshop in Jos was a collective reckoning with that reality. It brought together imams and pastors, fact-checkers and social media managers, and ordinary citizens who have witnessed the cost of hatred. It did not pretend that social media can be perfect, or that all information will be clean. It simply insisted that people are not powerless. Every participant who leaves with a new skill and a renewed commitment becomes an antidote to manipulation. If religious leaders model patience and honesty, their congregations are more likely to imitate those virtues. If journalists and media stakeholders prioritise accuracy over speed, the public will have reliable beacons in a storm of noise. The road to 2027 is long, but it begins with small acts of verification. The lesson from the Jos workshop, repeated in different languages and traditions, was simple and profound: before you share, pause. Before you speak, pray. Before you believe, check. In a world saturated with half-truths and manufactured outrage, that discipline may be the most faithful thing a religious leader can offer. The organisers left no doubt that this is only the beginning. As the programme expands to Kano, Adamawa, Benue, and beyond, the hope is that a culture of truth will take root, one community at a time.