-Temiro Oluwaseun Tolulope, ACIArb
Journalism in Nigeria has never been a quiet profession. Over the years, my work across media and law has placed me repeatedly at the fault line where reporting meets legal risk. Beyond legal practice, I have spent years working with several media organizations. In my capacity, I have overseen editorial decisions, investigative projects, digital publishing, and newsroom operations often under intense political and institutional pressure. These experiences have made the legal boundaries of journalism more than theoretical to me; they are lived realities that shape what gets published, what gets delayed, and what never sees the light of day. From exposing corruption to amplifying dissenting voices, Nigerian journalists have historically stood at the intersection of power, accountability, and risk. Yet, behind every headline lies an invisible legal line — one that, when crossed, can turn a public-interest story into a police matter, a civil lawsuit, or even a prison sentence.
This article tells the story of that legal line. It explains how Nigerian law both protects and restrains journalism, how defamation and intellectual property theft have become recurring traps for media professionals, and why the digital age has made the journalist’s work more legally dangerous than ever. It is not an academic treatise, but a grounded narrative of law, practice, and consequence.
PRESS FREEDOM IN THEORY, REGULATION IN PRACTICE
At the heart of Nigerian journalism lies Section 39 of the 1999 Constitution. It guarantees freedom of expression and the right to own and operate media platforms. On paper, this provision appears expansive. It promises journalists the freedom to hold opinions, investigate, publish, and disseminate information without interference.
In reality, that freedom is not absolute. Section 45 of the same Constitution quietly qualifies it, allowing laws that restrict expression in the interest of public order, morality, national security, or the protection of the rights of others. This is where the tension begins. Every major legal challenge faced by journalists in Nigeria exists within this constitutional contradiction: freedom granted with one hand, restrained with the other.
Nigeria’s obligations under international law reinforce this delicate balance. Treaties such as the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights recognize press freedom as essential to democracy. Nigerian courts have acknowledged these instruments, yet they have also consistently held that journalism must operate “within the law.” The phrase sounds harmless. In practice, it is where many journalists fall.
Journalism in Nigeria is not entirely unregulated. The Nigerian Press Council exists to promote professional standards and ethical conduct. Alongside it, the Nigeria Union of Journalists provides a binding Code of Ethics covering accuracy, fairness, privacy, attribution, and social responsibility.
Ideally, these bodies should be the first point of accountability when journalists err. Ethical breaches ought to attract corrections, apologies, or professional sanctions. In reality, regulatory oversight often gives way to police intervention. Defamation complaints that should be civil disputes are routinely escalated into criminal arrests. This shift from professional regulation to law enforcement has become one of the most troubling features of media practice in Nigeria.
DEFAMATION: WHEN REPORTING BECOMES A CRIME
Nigerian courts have repeatedly grappled with the tension between reputational protection and press freedom. In Arthur Nwankwo v. The State (1985), the Court of Appeal struck down the use of sedition laws against journalists, warning against the resurrection of colonial-era tools to silence dissent. Similarly, in Aviomoh v. Commissioner of Police (2021), the courts affirmed that defamation, particularly in Lagos State, is better treated as a civil wrong rather than a criminal offence.
Defamation sits at the centre of most legal conflicts involving journalists. Nigerian law recognises both civil and criminal defamation. Civil defamation allows an injured person to seek damages or retractions. Criminal defamation, however, turns reputational harm into a public offence punishable by imprisonment.
Under the Criminal Code and Penal Code, a journalist can be jailed for publishing statements that allegedly injure another person’s reputation. The law does not distinguish clearly between malicious falsehoods and investigative reporting gone wrong. Once a complaint is framed as criminal, the journalist is no longer just a defendant; they are treated as an offender against the state.
While some states, notably Lagos, have decriminalised defamation, the offence remains active in many parts of the country. This uneven legal landscape means that a report published online can be lawful in one jurisdiction and criminal in another.
Courts have increasingly warned against the use of criminal defamation to suppress free speech. Yet arrests persist. The effect is predictable: self-censorship. Journalists avoid sensitive stories not because they lack evidence, but because the cost of defending the truth has become too high.
THE CYBERCRIMES ACT AND THE DIGITAL TRAP
If defamation law is a blunt instrument, the Cybercrimes Act is a flexible one and that flexibility has made it dangerous. Section 24 of the Act criminalises online messages that are considered false, offensive, or intended to cause annoyance or ill-will. For journalists operating in the digital space, this provision has become a legal minefield.
Investigative reports published online are frequently recharacterised as cyberstalking or cyber harassment. Arrests often happen before any judicial determination of falsity. In several cases, journalists have been detained for days or weeks simply for publishing allegations against public officials.
Judicial responses to the Cybercrimes Act have been mixed. In Okedara v. Attorney General of the Federation (2019), the Court of Appeal upheld the constitutionality of Section 24, holding that it did not violate Section 39 of the Constitution. In contrast, the ECOWAS Court of Justice in SERAP v. Federal Republic of Nigeria (2021) held that the same provision was incompatible with Nigeria’s international human rights obligations under the African Charter and the ICCPR, ordering its repeal or amendment.
The tension between domestic enforcement and regional human rights standards became even more pronounced during the Federal Government’s suspension of Twitter in Nigeria. In SERAP v. Federal Republic of Nigeria (ECOWAS Court, 2022), the Court squarely addressed the legality of the Twitter ban, holding that the suspension violated Nigerians’ rights to freedom of expression, access to information, and media freedom under the African Charter and the ICCPR. The Court reaffirmed that digital platforms are now integral to modern journalism and civic participation, and that blanket restrictions on social media amount to unconstitutional gagging of expression.
The decision underscored a recurring pattern in Nigeria’s digital governance: executive actions that restrict online speech often outpace constitutional safeguards, leaving journalists exposed until regional courts intervene. While the judgment strengthened normative protections for digital rights, its limited domestic enforcement highlights the fragility of press freedom in the digital age.
TRUTH IS NOT ALWAYS ENOUGH
Nigerian case law has consistently clarified the limits of truth as a defence. In Oruwari v. Osler (2013), the courts affirmed that truth is a complete defence in defamation. However, Sketch Publishing Co. Ltd v. Ajagbemokeferi (1989) established that fair comment must be based on true facts, while Guardian Newspapers Ltd v. Ajeh (2011) reinforced the protection of honest commentary on matters of public interest. Where statements are made recklessly or maliciously, these defences collapse.
Many journalists assume that truth is a complete shield. Legally, this is only partly correct. Truth is a strong defence in civil defamation, but criminal defamation often requires more. Courts may still ask whether the publication served the public interest.
This distinction matters. A true story published recklessly, without verification or balance, may still attract liability. Nigerian courts have repeatedly emphasised that responsible journalism is as important as factual accuracy. Fair comment, privilege, and public interest reporting remain available defences, but they only protect journalists who can demonstrate good faith and professional diligence.
INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY THEFT: WHEN JOURNALISTS BECOME INFRINGERS
Judicial authority has also reinforced journalists’ obligations under intellectual property law. Nigerian courts have treated plagiarism and unauthorised reproduction as both ethical breaches and legal wrongs, particularly where commercial benefit is derived. The Copyright Act 2022 now strengthens enforcement mechanisms, giving the Nigerian Copyright Commission broader powers to pursue infringers and protect original journalistic works.
Ironically, journalists are not only victims of legal overreach; they can also become violators of the law they expect others to respect. The Copyright Act 2022 grants journalists exclusive rights over their work. Yet the same law criminalizes plagiarism, unauthorized reproduction, and digital republishing without permission.
Copying articles without attribution, lifting photographs from social media, or embedding protected videos without authorization can expose journalists to civil damages and criminal penalties. The digital newsroom has blurred traditional boundaries, but the law has not relaxed its standards.
Fair dealing offers some breathing space, particularly for criticism, review, and reporting of current events. However, fair dealing is not a free pass. Excessive copying, commercial exploitation, or failure to credit sources can quickly cross the line into infringement.
NATIONAL SECURITY AND THE COST OF DISCLOSURE
The courts have shown limited tolerance where national security is invoked. In cases such as the prosecution threats against journalists involved in the Samuel Ogundipe matter (2018), the Official Secrets Act was relied upon to justify detention for possession of classified documents. Conversely, courts have emphasised, as seen in Solomon Okedara v. Attorney General of the Federation (2019), that restrictions on press freedom must remain proportionate and justifiable under Section 45 of the Constitution.
Few laws intimidate journalists more than the Official Secrets Act. Its broad definition of classified information gives security agencies wide discretion to determine what should not be published. Journalists who receive leaked documents face a stark choice: publish and risk imprisonment, or withhold information of clear public importance.
The Freedom of Information Act offers a partial counterweight to the secrecy regime created by the Official Secrets Act. Enacted in 2011, the FOIA grants journalists and citizens the right to request information from public institutions without demonstrating a specific interest. In theory, it is a powerful investigative tool.
In practice, its effectiveness is limited. Broad exemptions for national security, personal privacy, and confidential government records are frequently invoked to deny access. Requests are often ignored or delayed beyond statutory timelines, forcing journalists to rely on unofficial sources and leaked documents — the very materials that expose them to prosecution under secrecy laws. This contradiction places journalists in a legal bind: the law promises access with one hand while threatening punishment with the other.
REAL CONSEQUENCES, REAL PEOPLE
These laws do not operate in abstraction. They have been enforced against real journalists with real consequences. Arrests, prolonged detention, crushing defamation suits, newsroom raids, and forced exile have become familiar responses to investigative reporting.
From the detention of Samuel Ogundipe over leaked police documents, to the repeated arrests of journalists under the Cybercrimes Act, the pattern is consistent. Critical reporting is often met not with rebuttal or civil action, but with police power. The result is a chilling effect that extends beyond the individual journalist to entire newsrooms, where editors increasingly weigh legal risk above public interest.
DIGITAL JOURNALISM: SOCIAL MEDIA, EVIDENCE, AND REPUBLICATION RISKS
The migration of journalism to digital platforms has expanded both reach and liability. Nigerian courts now treat online publications, tweets, blog posts, and messaging app broadcasts as permanent written publications capable of grounding libel actions.
Republication poses particular danger. Sharing, embedding, or reproducing defamatory content can attract the same liability as original publication if done knowingly or negligently. Hyperlinking is generally safer, but journalists may still incur liability where links facilitate access to infringing or defamatory material.
Electronic evidence must also meet strict requirements. Under Section 84 of the Evidence Act, digital materials must be properly authenticated before they are admissible in court. Journalists who rely on screenshots, audio recordings, or leaked digital files without proper verification risk having their evidence rejected — or worse, being accused of fabrication.
REMEDIES, ENFORCEMENT, AND THE MISUSE OF POLICE POWERS
Where journalism genuinely causes harm, Nigerian law already provides adequate civil remedies. Defamed individuals can seek damages, injunctions, apologies, and retractions through the courts. Copyright owners can enforce their rights through civil actions and regulatory bodies such as the Nigerian Copyright Commission.
The growing trend of involving the police in what are essentially civil disputes represents a distortion of the legal process. Courts have repeatedly cautioned against using criminal law as a tool of intimidation or personal vendetta. Regulatory bodies like the Nigerian Press Council and Media Complaints Commission are better suited for resolving ethical disputes without resorting to arrest or detention.
STAYING ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE LEGAL LINE
Navigating Nigeria’s media landscape requires more than courage. Journalists must understand the laws that govern their work, verify facts rigorously, respect intellectual property, and document their editorial processes carefully.
Prompt corrections and sincere apologies can often prevent escalation. Sensitive investigations benefit from pre-publication legal review. Above all, adherence to ethical standards remains the strongest shield. Courts are more inclined to protect journalists who act responsibly than those who publish recklessly.
CONCLUSION: LAW, JOURNALISM, AND DEMOCRATIC SURVIVAL
When journalism crosses the legal line in Nigeria, the consequences are swift and often severe. Yet that line is neither fixed nor always clear. It shifts with political pressure, technological change, and judicial interpretation.
A free press cannot exist without accountability, but accountability must not become a weapon of suppression. The challenge for Nigeria is not to silence journalism, but to regulate it in a way that preserves public interest reporting while respecting legitimate legal boundaries. The future of democratic accountability depends on getting that balance right. offers a counterbalance, granting access to public records. Yet its exceptions — particularly for security and privacy — often swallow the rule. In practice, FOIA requests are delayed, denied, or ignored, leaving journalists dependent on unofficial sources and exposed to legal retaliation.
Behind every legal provision are real journalists who have paid the price of enforcement. Arrests, prolonged detention, costly lawsuits, and forced exile are no longer rare occurrences. The pattern is consistent: critical reporting followed by police involvement, cybercrime charges, or defamation suits with crushing damages.
The cumulative effect is not just personal hardship. It weakens investigative journalism, narrows public discourse, and erodes democratic accountability.
The law does not require journalists to be timid, but it demands that they be careful. Understanding media laws, verifying facts rigorously, respecting intellectual property, and responding promptly to complaints are no longer optional skills. They are survival tools.
Where errors occur, corrections and apologies can prevent escalation. Where stories are sensitive, legal advice before publication can make the difference between impact and incarceration. Above all, ethical journalism remains the strongest defence. Courts are more willing to protect journalists who act responsibly than those who publish recklessly.
Oluwaseun Tolulope Temiro is a Nigerian lawyer and media professional with interests in entertainment law, intellectual property, technology law.
temiroseun@gmail.com
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