It feels like ages since I’ve seen such a comprehensive and heartfelt plea for responsible media from a prominent figure like Joash Amupitan, the Chairman of Nigeria’s Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC). He recently stood before the 81st General Assembly of the Broadcasting Organisations of Nigeria, and his message wasn’t just a dry-as-dust lecture from a bureaucrat; it was a deeply human appeal, a call to arms for those guardians of the airwaves to protect the very soul of Nigerian democracy as we look ahead to the 2027 general election. He spoke with the earnestness of someone who truly understands the power of words and images, and how, in the wrong hands, they can unravel a nation.
Imagine him there, a man burdened with the immense responsibility of ensuring free and fair elections, looking out at an audience made up of the very people who shape public opinion every single day. He wasn’t just warning them; he was practically imploring them to understand the gravity of their role. He painted a stark picture – the integrity of the upcoming elections, he stressed, isn’t just about ballot boxes and polling units anymore. It’s about how responsibly the airwaves are managed, how carefully information is handled. He called the information space “a critical battleground,” and you could almost feel the weight of truth in his words. It’s a sentiment that resonates deeply, isn’t it? In an age where a lie can travel halfway around the world before the truth even ties its shoes, the media holds an unprecedented power to either build trust or sow chaos. Amupitan made it clear: the biggest danger to credible elections might no longer be physical violence or ballot stuffing, but the insidious creep of false information, amplified and spread like wildfire through unchecked broadcasts. It’s a terrifying prospect, a silent enemy that can undermine the foundational principles of democracy without a single shot being fired. He wasn’t just talking about abstract concepts; he was talking about the very fabric of Nigerian society, torn apart by divisive rhetoric and outright fabrications.
His speech wasn’t just about the dangers, though; it was also a firm reminder of the rules of the game, the legal framework that’s meant to guide broadcast media. He brought up the Electoral Act 2026, which, in its essence, is a roadmap for fairness. He specifically highlighted the critical aspect of equal access to media platforms for all political parties. With 22 registered parties vying for attention, he emphasized that ensuring equitable airtime and unbiased coverage isn’t just a nice-to-have; it’s a legal obligation. This isn’t a discretionary matter, he underscored, but a fundamental requirement to ensure that every voice, big or small, has a fair chance to be heard. He then delved into the more insidious aspects of irresponsible broadcasting, drawing attention to provisions of the law that strictly forbid the use of abusive, inflammatory, or divisive language. He articulated the very real danger that such rhetoric poses – the potential to incite ethnic, religious, or sectional tensions, which, let’s be honest, could easily destabilize the entire electoral process and tear at the delicate threads of national cohesion. He urged media practitioners to remember their fundamental oath: to uphold professionalism, not just as a buzzword, but as a guiding principle in every report, every commentary, every discussion. It was a plea for integrity over sensationalism, for unity over division.
Amupitan, with the wisdom of experience, also reminded broadcasters of a crucial, often overlooked, provision: the mandatory 24-hour “cooling-off period” before Election Day. This isn’t some arbitrary rule; it’s a carefully considered measure, designed to give voters a vital window of calm. During this period, all political campaigns and advertisements are prohibited, allowing people to reflect, to process the information they’ve received, and to make informed decisions free from the last-minute manipulation and misinformation that can often cloud judgment. It’s a moment of quiet contemplation before a momentous choice, and the media’s role in respecting that silence is paramount. He acknowledged the constitutional guarantee of freedom of expression, a cornerstone of any democracy. But with a nuanced understanding, he quickly qualified it, stressing that such freedom isn’t absolute. It must, he asserted, be exercised within the framework of the law. He drew a powerful analogy, explaining that the airwaves, as a public resource, carry an inherent responsibility. This means that both regulators and operators have a shared duty to ensure equitable access and responsible usage, especially during the high-stakes period of elections. It brings to mind the old adage: your right to swing your fist ends where my nose begins. In this context, the unbridled right to broadcast ends where the integrity of the election and the peace of the nation begin.
He went further, underscoring the crucial partnership between INEC and the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) in safeguarding the integrity of political broadcasting. It’s a collaborative effort, a joint watch over the media landscape. However, ever the realist, he didn’t shy away from identifying the hurdles they face. He spoke of “regulatory overlaps,” where lines become blurred, and “enforcement gaps,” where good intentions sometimes fall short. He also pointed to the rapidly changing media landscape, the “increasing convergence of traditional and digital media,” which has undeniably made effective monitoring a far more complex undertaking. It’s like trying to patrol a constantly shifting, expanding city with the same number of officers. He raised very valid concerns about what he called the “incumbency advantage” in state-owned media – a situation where the ruling party often receives disproportionate coverage, effectively drowning out dissenting voices. And then there’s the growing “commercialisation of political airtime,” a trend that, as he rightly warned, could seriously disadvantage smaller political parties, who simply don’t have the deep pockets to compete. This creates an uneven playing field, shaking the very foundation of credible elections.
To tackle these formidable challenges, Amupitan didn’t just lament; he proposed solutions. He called for “stronger collaboration” between regulatory bodies, urging them to work hand-in-hand rather than in silos. He advocated for “clearer legal definitions of equal access,” so there’s no room for ambiguity or exploitation. He championed “improved fact-checking mechanisms,” recognizing that in the age of misinformation, robust verification is our first line of defense. And crucially, he called for “greater transparency in political advertising,” including the full disclosure of sponsorship and pricing. Voters deserve to know who is funding what, and how much influence money is buying. His final charge to broadcast organizations was perhaps the most poignant: to prioritize “truth and professionalism over profit.” It was a direct appeal to their conscience, urging them to verify information meticulously before disseminating it and to actively combat the insidious spread of fake news. He didn’t just want them to be reactive; he called on them to play a proactive role, to mobilize citizens to participate fully in the electoral process, to foster an informed and engaged electorate. He closed by reassuring them of INEC’s unwavering commitment to transparency, advising broadcasters to treat INEC’s official platforms as the authoritative source of electoral information and promising continued engagement with designated spokespersons. His closing words resonated deeply: the credibility of the 2027 general election, he reiterated, hinges not just on logistics and technology, but fundamentally on the integrity of the information environment. It was a heartfelt plea for the media to act responsibly, in the overriding interest of Nigeria’s precious democracy. It was a reminder that the fate of a nation, truly, often rests on the stories we choose to tell, and how we choose to tell them.