When the woman from the health centre arrived at her door, Mama Zainab refused to let her in. “You’re not giving my child that poison,” she said, slamming the door shut. Her source? A viral Facebook post claimed polio vaccines were a Western plot to sterilise children.
Fatima had a similar mindset. She believed anything medical from Western countries had been tampered with, and vaccines were suspected. Her children had never been immunised, and she saw no difference between them and those who were.
I remember growing up in northern Nigeria, watching health workers walk from compound to compound in their bright uniforms and even brighter smiles. They carried blue bags filled with mosquito nets, paracetamol, baby clothes, and soap.
On those days, the streets buzzed with excitement. Mothers lined up under the sun with their babies. It wasn’t just the freebies, it was the trust they symbolised. The belief was that these women were bringing help, not harm.
But when they came empty-handed, the welcome turned cold. Doors closed. Faces turned away. Whispers followed:
“They’ve come again. Don’t let them touch your child.”
Even more disturbing? Some health workers themselves distrust vaccines. One house officer dismissed the hepatitis B vaccine as a “jihad”, claiming it increased the risk of disease. Yet, the erosion of public trust extends beyond vaccine campaigns. Today, many Nigerians are sceptical of government advisories, international health guidelines, and even humanitarian health interventions. When confidence in public institutions breaks down, even the most effective health systems become paralysed.
Real-Life Impacts in Nigeria
The effects of information disorder are not hypothetical; they have already shaped Nigeria’s public health landscape in dangerous ways.
Polio Vaccine Boycotts
In the early 2000s, Northern Nigeria became the epicentre of a vaccine boycott, fuelled by rumours that polio vaccines were laced with anti-fertility agents. Prominent religious and political figures amplified the narrative, leading several states to suspend immunisation campaigns. The result? A resurgence of polio, not just in Nigeria but across neighbouring countries, has hindered global eradication efforts for years. This direct correlation between misinformation and disease resurgence highlights the fatal impact of eroded trust.
COVID-19 Myths and Mistrust
During the COVID-19 pandemic, misinformation spread faster than the virus itself. Facebook posts claimed that drinking ginger and garlic mixtures could prevent infection. Others insisted that 5G technology was responsible for the disease. And when vaccines finally arrived, new conspiracy theories filled the vacuum: that the shots contained microchips or that COVID was a hoax designed to syphon donor funds.
Covid misinformation posters; Sources: BBC, Megpolice
Ebola Denial in 2014
When Ebola struck in 2014, some Nigerians initially dismissed it as a “Western disease”, something that couldn’t possibly affect Africans. Others spread a false remedy: bathing in saltwater. The rumour was so widespread that hospitals reported cases of salt poisoning, and at least two deaths were attributed to the myth. This event underscored how rapidly dangerous myths can spread and lead to fatal non-compliance with basic public health rules.
Each of these events illustrates how disinformation isn’t just a digital nuisance, it has real, sometimes fatal, consequences. For example, it can lead to reduced funding and support for global partnerships due to mistrust in data integrity and effectiveness.
The Anatomy of Distrust: How Information Disorder Takes Hold
Mama Zainab’s and Fatima’s stories reflect a deeper, more pervasive problem: the strategic creation and rapid spread of misinformation. This isn’t accidental; it’s deliberate, exploiting social divisions and fears.
In Nigeria, information disorder thrives by:
- Exploiting Cultural and Religious Sensitivities: Misinformation taps into deeply held beliefs, portraying health efforts as attacks on religion or tradition, making it difficult for people to accept facts.
- Weaponising Historical Grievances: Past government failures or perceived exploitation are revived to cast current health initiatives as part of ongoing deceit.
- Leveraging Social Media Ecosystems: Platforms such as Facebook, WhatsApp, and TikTok facilitate the swift dissemination of information and the formation of echo chambers. Voice notes and forwarded messages, common in Nigerian digital communication, complicate fact-checking.
- Filling Information Voids: When official communication is slow, unclear, or distrusted, sensational stories fill the gap, resonating with fears and anxieties.
- The Power of Personal Narratives: A compelling story from a trusted friend or family, true or not, can outweigh official guidance, as seen in Fatima’s belief system.
This preference for personal, familiar narratives is not surprising. According to Lois Ugbede, Assistant Editor at DUBAWA, a leading fact-checking organisation, “many health myths are passed down through generations.” These deeply ingrained beliefs significantly shape how people respond to public health campaigns.
“Nigerians don’t like to read or ask questions,” she adds. “We often accept what we’re told—especially if it’s from someone we know.”
The Role of Platforms & Influencers
Misinformation doesn’t spread on its own; people and platforms enable it. In Nigeria, social media platforms WhatsApp, Facebook, and TikTok serve as powerful amplifiers of health hoaxes.
WhatsApp, with its end-to-end encryption and deep community penetration, allows unverified messages to spread rapidly within private networks. Voice notes and forwarded texts — often starting with “My cousin works at the ministry…” — carry a false sense of authority and urgency.
Religious sermons, viral TikTok clips, and pseudo-experts further complicate the landscape. Some preachers claim to have divine insight into the origins of disease. Others promote unproven remedies as “natural cures” or “spiritual cleanses.” These messages are emotional, familiar, and easy to share, making them more influential than official health advisories.
In such a crowded, chaotic digital space, it’s increasingly difficult for the average person to distinguish truth from manipulation, especially when AI-generated content mimics trusted sources. Silas Jonathan, a Disinformation expert, says he fears what truth and fact may mean to people in the years to come because of AI. “When you begin to think about the impact of AI on information manipulation and how believable it is, you begin to worry about what happens if such sophistication is channelled to health misinformation,” Jonathan says.
As Lois Ugbede from DUBAWA explains:
“Even people with no medical knowledge can spread dangerous information online. The problem is, they’re trusted.”
This misplaced trust is what makes health misinformation so difficult to combat.
And even when misinformation is debunked, she says, “the narratives keep changing. Sometimes, even when people accept the correction, they still won’t take action”, said Ugbede.
What Can Be Done?
Information disorder is a public health crisis, but it is not insurmountable. Solutions must be holistic, locally informed, and collaborative:
- Digital Literacy Campaigns: Equip communities with critical thinking skills to identify and question dubious health information. Teach beyond “fake news” spotting; help people evaluate sources, detect logical fallacies, and assess evidence. Employ indigenous languages and illustrations that resonate with local cultures. This can be done through workshops, community outreach, radio programmes, and online tools tailored to specific regions. Embed digital literacy in school curricula for long-term impact.
- Tech–Civil Society Partnerships: To combat information disorder in public health, technology companies such as Meta and WhatsApp should collaborate with Nigerian fact-checking organisations and non-governmental organisations. These local entities possess contextual understanding and enjoy community trust. Together, they can develop real-time misinformation flagging tools, run public awareness campaigns, and share data on disinformation trends for a proactive response.
- Empower Health Workers: Community health workers need smartphones loaded with verified health information and user-friendly apps. Train them to recognise misinformation and engage respectfully with communities to correct false narratives.
Towards a Collective Responsibility
Fighting health misinformation is not the job of any one group. Governments, technology platforms, journalists, health workers, community leaders, and citizens all have roles to play.
As Lois Ugbede rightly points out, “there’s too much misinformation to debunk,” and it evolves constantly. But that makes it all the more urgent to act collectively and persistently.
We must question, verify, and share responsibly. Only through collective vigilance and proactive engagement can we rebuild trust in public health institutions, so that when help knocks on our doors, it is welcomed with hope, not fear.
