Every couple of years, the same false stories come creeping back. A claim that an election was rigged before a single vote has been cast. An old video of violence, stripped of its date and place, suddenly presented as breaking news. For fact-checkers, this means doing the same painstaking work again and again—investigating claims they have already debunked, while new lies keep piling up. It takes time, money, and access to reliable information, none of which are easy to come by. Fact-checkers are the people whose job is to chase claims, test them against evidence, and tell the public what is actually true. As of June 2025, there were around 450 fact-checking organisations in more than 100 countries, including several across Africa. They work in dedicated fact-checking organisations and inside newsrooms with fact-checking desks. In Africa, millions of people now get their news on mobile phones, often inside closed WhatsApp groups where false claims travel quietly and fast. Around elections, false stories about rigging and ethnically charged propaganda can raise tensions dangerously. We are scholars who study the growing impact of misinformation and disinformation. Previous research has looked at how false information damages democracy and society, but far less attention has been paid to the people fighting it. So in a recent study, we set out to understand how fact-checkers in different African countries see their own role and what challenges they face on the ground.
Our study covered four countries: Cameroon, Kenya, Nigeria, and South Africa. We chose them because they represent the range of political systems found in sub-Saharan Africa. Cameroon is officially a democracy, but in practice it has an authoritarian government. Kenya and Nigeria are often called hybrid systems, where elections and constitutional rights exist alongside heavy-handed state power. South Africa has a constitution that protects press freedom, and that freedom is generally respected. Between January and August 2025, we carried out in-depth interviews with 19 professional fact-checkers: five from Cameroon, five from Kenya, five from Nigeria, and four from South Africa. We deliberately chose experienced practitioners who could speak with authority, including people working in fact-checking organisations and in newsrooms. We weren’t trying to measure how common a particular view is across an entire population. We wanted deep insight into how fact-checkers think about their work and why. The clearest finding was that there is no single “African fact-checker.” These professionals see themselves very differently depending on the political system they work in. In a repressive system, fact-checking can shrink into checking celebrity rumours. In more open systems, it can grow into a public service that combines verification, education, and accountability, and it can strengthen democratic resilience among citizens. Across all four countries, we also found that many fact-checkers are moving away from simply declaring claims true or false. They are trying to help people judge information for themselves, including through “prebunking”—a proactive way of informing and warning people about common tricks before they encounter them.
In Cameroon, fact-checkers told us their main job was to debunk false claims spreading online. But they admitted that they mostly stayed away from politics. The reason was fear. One respondent said plainly: “We avoid fact-checking government authorities. It is a risky enterprise to do that.” Instead, they checked claims about fires, road accidents, armed robberies, the death of a public figure, or rumours about footballers, musicians, and influencers. This is a form of self-censorship, and it limits what fact-checking can actually do. Fear also makes the work harder to do well. Good fact-checking depends on showing the public your evidence and your sources. But in Cameroon, officials rarely cooperate, and eyewitnesses are often too afraid to speak. So even when fact-checkers want to do their jobs properly, the system pushes them toward safer subjects. The result is that the most dangerous claims—the ones that could inflame tensions or mislead citizens about their own government—often go unchecked. This is not a failure of effort or skill. It is a direct consequence of living and working under an authoritarian system where asking hard questions can put your safety, your livelihood, or your freedom at risk. The Cameroonian fact-checkers we interviewed were not lazy or cowardly. They were making calculated choices in an environment where the cost of truth-telling can be extremely high.
In Kenya, fact-checkers described a much broader and more confident role. They saw themselves as helping people take part in democracy, settling public disputes about facts, holding leaders accountable, and guiding citizens through an overload of online information. One organisation has set up channels where people can send in viral photos or memes for checking. Mainstream newsrooms are also bringing in specialists to train journalists to trace texts, images, and videos back to their original sources before publishing. Kenyan fact-checkers described organised disinformation campaigns by both government-aligned and opposition groups, which leave ordinary people “at a crossroads” about whom to believe. They also reported harassment and intimidation. Many politicians and officials ignore requests to respond to viral claims, some because they believe the media is against them. Despite these obstacles, Kenyan fact-checkers seem to have carved out a space where they can operate as democratic guides. They are not just correcting falsehoods; they are actively trying to build a more informed public. They understand that in a country where political tensions run high, a single viral lie can spark violence or deepen ethnic divisions. So they see their work as essential to the health of democracy itself. The challenge is that they are doing this work in a highly charged environment, where the very groups spreading disinformation may also have the power to punish those who expose them. Still, the Kenyan fact-checkers we spoke with were determined to keep going, and they framed their work as a form of public service rather than just a job.
In Nigeria, we found a split between two different ideas of the job. Newer fact-checkers, and those working inside newsrooms, tended to see fact-checking as one task within journalism. One said: “My job is mostly verifying viral claims before publication. I still consider myself primarily a journalist.” Senior fact-checkers saw something much bigger. For them, the job includes teaching the public, tracking how false stories spread over time, and preventing real-world harm. As one put it: “What we are essentially going for is information integrity and helping people to develop media literacy.” But they also described serious pressure. “Once a claim touches politics or security, you start receiving warnings, sometimes framed as ‘friendly advice’ but clearly meant to intimidate.” Another said cybercrime and defamation laws were often used to threaten legal action, even when reports were based on evidence. Money was a constant worry, too. “We are chasing misinformation that spreads in minutes with resources that barely sustain daily operations.” This split in Nigeria shows that fact-checking is still a developing field, with different generations and different types of organisations holding different visions. But both sides agree that the work is important and that the environment is difficult. The legal threats and resource shortages are not unique to Nigeria, but they seem particularly intense there, given the country’s size, its vibrant media landscape, and the many political and ethnic fault lines that disinformation can exploit.
In South Africa, fact-checkers saw themselves as filling the gaps that struggling newsrooms leave behind. One said: “We are doing the job that everyone wants or might be doing but doesn’t have the time or the resources to really get into.” They train journalists, students, and community groups, and they publish through partnerships with media outlets, radio, and social media platforms such as TikTok. This surprised us. Given South Africa’s relatively strong press freedom, we expected fact-checkers there to focus heavily on holding politicians to account. Instead, their main concerns were less about the state and more about the public. They spoke about the limits of reacting after a claim has spread: “When you wait for a claim to go viral and then you respond to it, much of the damage has already been done.” And few people want to read a 1,000-word explanation of why a claim is wrong. So South African fact-checkers are trying to get ahead of the problem. They are investing in prebunking, media literacy, and partnerships that help them reach people where they already are. They are also aware that the country’s press freedom, while real, does not protect them from the broader crisis of trust in media. People are increasingly suspicious of all information, including fact-checking itself. That makes the job harder, because even a well-evidenced correction can be dismissed as biased or fake. The South African experience shows that fact-checking in a more open society is not necessarily easier; it just faces different challenges.
So what comes next? Fact-checkers across Africa face different challenges, but they all need greater protection, resources, and public trust to do their work effectively. Governments should stop misusing the law to intimidate fact-checkers, and public officials should respond to requests for comment. Checking facts is not an attack on the state; it is a service to the public. Funders and technology companies should offer long-term support, while newsrooms and fact-checking organisations can strengthen their work through closer collaboration. Media literacy should be taught in schools, and fact-checkers can reach wider audiences through local languages, radio, and shorter formats. But there is no single approach that will work across Africa. Solutions must reflect local political realities and support those working, often at personal risk, to counter false information. The fact-checkers we interviewed are not abstract actors in a theoretical debate. They are real people making real choices every day, often under threat, with limited resources, and with the weight of their societies’ hopes and fears on their shoulders. They deserve more than admiration. They deserve protection, funding, and the cooperation of the institutions they are trying to hold accountable. Christian Nounkeu Tatchou contributed to this article.