Inside Nigeria’s Digital War On Women: How Tech-Driven Violence Is Expanding Faster Than The Systems Meant To Stop It

   

By HAUWA MAGANA

AS the world prepares for this year’s United Nations 16 Days of Activism on Violence Against Women and Girls, Nigeria confronts a growing crisis that remains dangerously underestimated: technology-facilitated gender-based violence (TF-GBV). What was once dismissed as “online misconduct” has evolved into a powerful tool for intimidation, silencing, and real-world harm—enabled by weak laws, poor enforcement, cultural stigma, and an expanding digital ecosystem where impunity thrives.

A 2020 Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) study found that 91% of African women have witnessed online harassment—an alarming figure that mirrors Nigeria’s own digital landscape, where misogynistic attacks have become routine. What begins online rarely stays there; it metastasizes into physical threats, reputational destruction, and long-term psychological trauma.

Two high-profile cases illustrate the dangerous convergence of digital hate and offline violence. Senator Natasha Akpoti endured a coordinated smear campaign after confronting the Senate leadership—memes, fabricated personal details, and misogynistic slurs that eventually escalated into an attack on her home. Activist Aisha Yesufu faced death threats, racist caricatures, and mass-reporting attacks designed to silence her, especially during #EndSARS. Their stories capture a broader truth: no woman in public life is spared, and private citizens fare even worse.

A Failing System: When Digital Abuse Isn’t Treated as Crime

Executive Director of TechHerNG, Chioma Agwuegbo, says the core problem is systemic abdication. Nigeria has cybercrime and VAPP laws on paper, but “the clauses are ambiguous, and enforcement is almost nonexistent.” Police officers often lack digital investigative skills—and in some cases, even violate survivors’ privacy. One victim who reported abuse through TechHer’s Kuram platform was asked by officers to send her intimate images via WhatsApp.

Agwuegbo says the justice system simply does not take digital threats seriously:
“The threat of violence is itself violence, but officers treat online abuse as domestic issues or gossip.”

Victim-blaming remains entrenched. Survivors are routinely lectured on morality rather than protected from predators.

Conflicting laws make the landscape even harsher. Queer women, already criminalised under the vaguely applied Same Sex Marriage Prohibition Act, avoid reporting abuse altogether for fear of retaliation. Costly legal processes, digital illiteracy, and inaccessible systems further push survivors into silence.

Impunity as Policy: A Culture That Protects Perpetrators

Nigeria’s online spaces have become fertile ground for fabrications: fake WhatsApp “confessions,” doctored sex videos, manufactured screenshots—tools increasingly weaponised against young women. Agwuegbo warns that “there are no consequences, and that is the biggest problem.”

Tech companies are not blameless. Community standards exist, but enforcement is inconsistent, opaque, and often unavailable to Nigerian users. Yet as gender advocates insist, accountability must start at home before Nigeria can demand more from Silicon Valley.

A Digital Environment Turning Hostile

Founder of She Forum Africa, Inimfon Etuk, argues that the digital world—once imagined as liberatory—is becoming one of the most dangerous spaces for women and girls. Weak regulation, outdated laws, and platform anonymity enable abuse to flourish. Viral mob behaviour worsens the situation.

“The bandwagon effect is our digital jungle justice,” Etuk says. Once harmful content trends, thousands join in, amplifying shame and emboldening perpetrators.

Girls on the Frontline: The Most Vulnerable Users

Beyond the Classroom Foundation’s founder, Raquel Daniel, reveals that young girls, especially those in underserved communities, are increasingly exposed to online grooming, harassment, and cyberbullying. Her projects—DigiUp Girls and Safer Girls—teach digital literacy and risk awareness, but she admits the structural barriers are enormous.

Cultural norms that instruct girls to “stay quiet” or “avoid shame” follow them into digital spaces, while low digital literacy leaves many unable to recognize or report abuse.

“When girls know nothing will be done, they stay silent. And silence is where digital violence grows.”

Fragmented Agencies, Fractured Protection

Evelyn Ugbe of the RACE Centre maps out a regulatory system riddled with gaps. Agencies like NITDA, NCC, and NAPTIP operate in silos with little coordination, and tech platforms rarely have a physical presence in Nigeria, complicating partnership and enforcement efforts. The Cybercrimes Act, she says, is poorly suited for gender-specific harms, while officers lack training to act on the VAPP Act’s digital provisions.

Patriarchy + Anonymity = A Perfect Storm

NIGAWD’s Executive Director, Abimbola Aladejare-Salako, points to anonymity and patriarchal norms as twin drivers of online abuse. Many abusers hide behind faceless accounts, while low platform age-verification exposes children to unfiltered risks. Reporting systems are weak, and many survivors never receive feedback after filing complaints.

What Must Change

Across interviews, experts converge on one truth: Nigeria cannot fight digital violence with outdated laws, untrained officers, weak infrastructure, or cultural silence.

Immediate priorities include:

• Passage of comprehensive digital safety legislation, including the Child Online Access Protection Bill.

• Stronger enforcement of the Cybercrimes Act and VAPP Act with gender-specific clarity.

• Mandatory training for law enforcement on digital forensics and survivor-centered response.

• Platform accountability and age-appropriate safeguards.

• National digital literacy programs targeting girls, parents, teachers, and caregivers.

• Survivor-support systems that reject stigma and protect confidentiality.

• Inclusion of boys and men in prevention efforts.

Agwuegbo adds that broader structural reforms—like universal digital access, school infrastructure, and teacher upskilling—are foundational. “You can’t talk digital safety where there is no electricity or internet access,” she notes.

Etuk insists policy must anchor the fight. Strong privacy laws, clearer frameworks, and the enforcement of global instruments like the UN Cybercrime Convention of 2024 are essential.

Her final message echoes across all voices:

“Digital violence must be treated like any other crime. Without consequences, nothing changes.”

As Nigeria enters the 16 Days of Activism, the question is no longer whether digital violence exists—it is whether the country is willing to confront the systems that allow it to thrive. The protection of millions of women and girls depends on that answer.