Social Media and Crisis Communication in Nigeria: Lifeline or Landmine?

Social Media and Crisis Communication in Nigeria: Lifeline or Landmine?

When the fuel tanker exploded in Ibadan earlier this year, the first reports did not come from National Emergency Management Agency ( NEMA), the police, or television crews. They came from shaky videos uploaded to WhatsApp and TikTok by ordinary Nigerians. The same pattern emerged during the #EndSARS, #EndBadGoverance protests, the Abuja–Kaduna train accident, and the devastating Borno State flood of 2025. In Nigeria today, social media has become the frontline of crisis communication, a tool that can save lives but also one that can ignite panic.

Its power is undeniable. A tweet about a blocked road can redirect ambulances. A Facebook post about missing children can reunite families. During #EndSARS and the #EndBadGovernance protests, Instagram and Facebook livestreams pierced the veil of state silence and carried Nigerian voices to the world stage. In a nation where official channels often move too slowly, social media has become the heartbeat of public alert and response.

Social media-platforms

Yet the same platforms that transmit lifesaving updates also breed dangerous rumours. False alarms of fresh attacks can trigger chaos. Unverified claims about kidnappings or flood relief corrode the fragile trust between citizens and the state. In fragile democracies like ours, poor communication from authorities creates a vacuum, and social media fills it sometimes recklessly, often harmfully.

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The real challenge, then, is not whether social media should be part of crisis communication. It already is. The question is whether Nigeria can harness its speed for truth and reassurance, rather than allow it to magnify fear and suspicion.

To do this, government must abandon the habit of cold, delayed press statements and embrace real-time, transparent updates delivered in plain, human language. Technology platforms must also invest more seriously in countering misinformation in places like Nigeria, where the stakes are high. And citizens themselves must develop the discipline to pause, verify, and reflect before forwarding a message that could spread panic.

Crisis communication is no longer a matter of public relations; it is a matter of survival. When handled with empathy and credibility, it rebuilds trust, calms tensions, and strengthens democracy. When handled poorly, it deepens wounds, fuels unrest, and hands oxygen to extremists.

Nigeria’s next protest, flood, or tragedy will not wait for the nine o’clock news. The difference between chaos and resilience may rest on how responsibly we and those who lead us choose to use the screens in our hands.