Politics can be a bruising business, and the battle for perception often begins long before a single rally crowd gathers. That was the spirit of the accusation made by the All Progressives Congress Presidential Campaign Council (APC PCC) against former Vice-President Atiku Abubakar and the African Democratic Congress (ADC) on Saturday, just as the party was preparing to launch its presidential campaign in Kaduna. In a strongly worded statement, Dele Alake, the Minister of Solid Minerals Development who also serves as the council’s spokesperson, said the APC had uncovered “a well-orchestrated, devious plan” to discredit the event. The alleged target of the plot was not only the rally itself but also President Bola Tinubu, Governor Uba Sani of Kaduna State, and the leadership of the APC. The campaign council claimed that the opposition intended to use deepfake videos, counterfeit documents, and carefully planted misinformation to mislead the public and manipulate public opinion. According to Alake, these tactics involved the use of artificial intelligence and coordinated fake news operations across social media and mainstream platforms. The accusations came ahead of the flag-off, which had been scheduled for 10 a.m., and they reflected the raw tension of a political campaign being fought as much online as on the streets. As with many claims made in the heat of an election season, these allegations have not been independently verified, but they had already begun to shape the public conversation around the APC’s much-anticipated Kaduna rally.
Alake went on to describe what he said was the first wave of the opposition’s supposed tactics. In the twenty-four hours before the rally, he said, a photograph began circulating online showing a security vehicle parked near one of the APC’s campaign billboards in Kaduna metropolis. To an ordinary viewer, the image might have looked like proof that the party had deployed security personnel to guard its billboards from angry residents. But the APC PCC offered a very different interpretation. The vehicle, Alake said, had simply been on routine patrol and had happened to stop at a junction near the billboard. He accused the opposition of twisting that innocuous moment into a sinister story, and then of planting that story in a national newspaper that the APC described as having an anti-government and anti-APC editorial stance. According to the council, some of the videos and pictures circulating online had been shared on Atiku’s verified social media accounts, while Atiku himself had reportedly shared a newspaper report that the APC dismissed as false and misleading. The purpose, the APC alleged, was to attract attention, drive online engagement, and create the impression that ordinary residents of Kaduna were hostile to the ruling party. The council called the narrative mischievous and insisted that the security presence in the photograph was routine, unremarkable, and entirely unconnected to any special mission to protect a billboard. For the APC, the episode was a small sample of a much larger deception designed to undermine the rally before it even began.
The second piece of supposed evidence was a letter. A document claiming to be written by Governor Uba Sani had begun making rounds, addressed to the APC PCC’s Director-General, Senator Abdulaziz Yari. The letter reportedly claimed that the Kaduna State Government had released ₦2.3 trillion to host the party’s campaign rally. The APC dismissed the document as a transparent fake, and Alake used the moment to make a pointed arithmetic argument. “How much is the entire annual revenue of Kaduna State, or any state, for that matter, that a state would spend N2.3 trillion to host a rally?” the statement asked. The APC went further, noting that the ₦2.3 trillion figure exceeded the combined budgets of Kaduna State for three full years. For context, Kaduna’s budgets were listed as ₦458.271 billion in 2024, ₦790.439 billion in 2025, and ₦985.9 billion in 2026. Even together, those three annual budgets were still less than the alleged amount. The point was clear: no responsible government would spend such an absurd sum on a single political event, and anyone who understood basic public finance should recognize the letter as a clumsy forgery. Yet the document had already circulated widely, moving through messaging apps and social media platforms, and it may have left a false impression before the denial could catch up with it. The APC council said it was “still at a loss” trying to understand how anyone could invent such an outrageous claim, but it also made clear that the letter was part of a broader scheme.
The APC council said these two episodes were only the beginning. As the rally got underway, it warned, the opposition planned to push out more material, including old clips, doctored footage, and deepfake videos, all intended to show purported resentment among the people of Kaduna. The statement blamed what it called “Atiku and his hirelings” and the ADC for perfecting these plans. It accused them of running fake news operations that extended to both mainstream news platforms and social media. According to the APC PCC, the plan included the use of artificial intelligence, counterfeit documents, and manipulated videos to discredit the party and its leaders. Alake’s language was intentionally blunt: the plot was “malicious and ignoble,” and the public needed to be alert. The council said it had seen these tactics being deployed in the last twenty-four hours, and it expected more of the same as the day went on. The statement served as both a warning and a preemptive defense. In the age of deepfakes, the APC seemed to be saying, images are no longer reliable proof of anything. The party wanted voters to be skeptical of any negative content emerging from the Kaduna rally, particularly content that looked dramatic or emotionally charged. Whether or not the allegations were accurate, they underscored the deep suspicion between Nigeria’s political camps and the extent to which modern campaigns are fought through screens, shares, and snippets.
Read against the broader political backdrop, the allegations carry a deeply human dimension. Political rallies are not just logistical exercises; they are emotional and symbolic statements. The APC’s flag-off in Kaduna was meant to be a powerful moment, an opportunity to project strength, unity, and momentum. But in the hours before the event, the conversation was cluttered with questions about security vehicles, billboards, and state money. The APC responded the way campaigns often do when they feel threatened: by naming the opponents, describing the plot in dramatic terms, and appealing to common sense. Alake’s point about the ₦2.3 trillion figure was designed to make people pause and think. He wanted voters to ask themselves whether the story made sense, whether a state government would really spend such an amount on a rally, and whether a single photograph could be interpreted in multiple ways. In doing so, he invited the public to become active verifiers rather than passive consumers of viral content. He also signaled that the APC would be watching closely for further attempts at disinformation as the campaign develops. For the average citizen scrolling through their phone, the episode was a reminder that a screenshot is not always evidence, and a document is not always real. It was also a reminder that political actors will always try to shape the story, and that the truth often depends on who is telling it.
In the end, the statement from the APC PCC did more than simply deny the authenticity of a photograph and a letter. It framed the entire episode as a coordinated assault on the party’s reputation, led by Atiku and the ADC, with the goal of deceiving the public and discrediting President Tinubu, Governor Uba Sani, and the APC leadership. The council said it had uncovered the plot and wanted the public to be aware of it. What remains unclear, pending independent verification or a response from those accused, is how much of the narrative is true. Some details from the original report, including the videos said to have appeared on Atiku’s verified accounts, Alake’s official title, and the timing of the 10 a.m. flag-off, are based on the APC’s own statement and have not been independently confirmed. But the episode has already become part of the story of the Kaduna flag-off. The rally, which was intended to launch the APC’s presidential campaign with fanfare, found itself accompanied by a noisy subplot of accusations, denials, and questions about what voters should believe. For the public, the incident is a cautionary tale about the dangers of sharing information in a highly charged political environment. The battle for Nigeria’s future will be won not only in polling units but also in the minds of citizens who must decide which sources to trust, which stories to accept, and which images to question before they click share.