In Nigeria’s charged socio-political climate, there is a growing expectation, often loudly expressed, rarely examined, that journalists must function like neutral machines: emotionless, voiceless, and perpetually suspended above the fray. It is a neat theory. It is also deeply flawed. Journalists are not robots and cannot be reduced to such. They are citizens who wake up to the same realities, navigate the same economic pressures, and endure the same governance outcomes as the audiences they serve. To demand that they detach entirely from lived experience is to misunderstand both journalism and humanity.
by Adebayo Abubakar
In Nigeria’s charged socio-political climate, there is a growing expectation, often loudly expressed, rarely examined, that journalists must function like neutral machines: emotionless, voiceless, and perpetually suspended above the fray. It is a neat theory. It is also deeply flawed. Journalists are not robots and cannot be reduced to such. They are citizens who wake up to the same realities, navigate the same economic pressures, and endure the same governance outcomes as the audiences they serve. To demand that they detach entirely from lived experience is to misunderstand both journalism and humanity.
The regulatory body, responsible for television and radio broadcasting in Nigeria, the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) recently rolled out a set of guidelines on how a presenter of a programme (socio-political, especially) should not pass off their opinions as facts. Of course, that is one of the ethics of journalism that remains eternally non-negotiable. Like the saying goes: “Opinions are free, but facts are sacred.” So I do not think that needs to be made such a big deal, so much so that, it usurps the amount of time and attention it has been given so far. For most of those who commented on the issue, at the core of the debate lies a basic confusion between news reportage and opinion. Journalism is not a monolith; it is a spectrum. Straight news reporting demands fairness, verification, and balance, rooted in facts. Opinion writing, on the other hand, is the arena for interpretation, critique, and Advocacy. Here, subjectivity is neither a crime, nor an aberration. These are not ethical violations—they are foundational pillars of the craft. But the inability, or refusal, by sections of the public to distinguish between these forms has fueled unnecessary outrage and misplaced accusations of bias.
History itself does not support the myth of the “robot journalist.” As media scholar Professor Farooq Kperogi has noted, journalism did not begin with the rigid objectivity standards often imposed today. The earliest tradition, the advocacy model, was openly partisan. Writers did not pretend neutrality; they argued, persuaded, and challenged authority. It was only later, with the rise of what he calls, “the penny press” in 19th-century America, that the reporting tradition—what many now treat as the only “legitimate” journalism, gained prominence. In other words, opinion is not a deviation from journalism; it is its origin story.
So when did the rules change so drastically in Nigeria? When did we begin to treat journalists as if they must abandon their rights to freedom of expression the moment they pick up a pen or sit behind a microphone? The Nigerian Constitution guarantees these freedoms, and they do not come with an occupational exemption clause. If the pathfinders of the trade in Nigeria were half as neutral as people now try to force journalists to be, we would still be under colonial rule by now.
A journalist, like any other citizen, has the right to support a candidate, critique a government and its policies, or express dissatisfaction with leadership, provided they do not misrepresent opinion as fact within professional reporting. Why can’t a journalist support a Peter Obi, an Atiku Abubakar, a Bola Tinubu, a Rotimi Amaechi or a Rabiu Musa Kwakwanso? That is not what section 22 of the 1999 constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria implies.
Let’s be honest: the outrage among most Nigerians, as it is today, is often selective. When an opinion aligns with their personal political preferences, biases and prejudices, it is celebrated, shared or retweeted, and amplified. But when it challenges deeply held views, or interests, it is dismissed as “unprofessional” or “not journalism.” That is not a principled stance; it is convenience dressed as ethics. If the standard shifts depending on whose ox is gored, then the problem is not journalism; it is intellectual inconsistency. That explains the reason why, someone who applauds a Bayo Onanuga, a Lere Olayinka or a Reno Omokri, would condemn a Rufai Oseni.
Compounding this issue is the blurring of lines between trained journalists and unverified voices in the digital space. Not every blogger or social media commentator is a journalist, just as not every loud voice carries credibility. Professional journalism is anchored in discipline, ethics, and accountability. It requires training, editorial oversight, and a commitment to truth, even when inconvenient. The public must develop the media literacy to distinguish between a rigorously produced report and a sensationalized rumour; between news reportage, and writing an opinion piece.
The solution, therefore, is twofold. First, journalists must uphold the highest standards of their profession, ensuring that opinion is clearly labeled and factual reporting remains uncompromised. There is no defence for those who deliberately blur this line. Second, the public must elevate its understanding of how media works. A society that cannot differentiate between reportage and commentary will continue to misjudge both.
There is a timeless principle often attributed to Voltaire: the defense of one’s right to speak, even in disagreement. That principle is not a luxury; it is the backbone of any functioning democracy. If we accept that the media’s role includes shaping public discourse, setting development agenda, and holding power accountable, then we must also accept that journalists will have voices—sometimes sharp, sometimes uncomfortable, but always necessary. It is not the duty of a journalist to make a political elite comfortable by asking them patronising questions. Rather, is that duty of either their spouses or aides who are usyally “Yes-Sir” men.
In the end, professionalism is the ultimate differentiator. That is why, capacity-building is not optional for a practitioner; it is the currency of credibility. When a journalist invests in skill, depth, and ethical rigour, it shows, clear as daylight, even to the most casual of readers. And in a media landscape crowded with noise, that clarity is not just valuable; it is indispensable.
Journalists are not robots. They are thinking, feeling participants in the society they report on. The goal should not to be, to “silence them” —it is to ensure that when they speak, they do so with integrity, clarity, and unmistakable professionalism.
Abubakar writes from Ilorin, Kwara State. He can be reached via 0805 138 8285 or marxbayour@gmail.com.
