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The curious case of Nigeria’s bans 09 May 2025

Nigeria seems to have a curious habit of banning various entities. Whether it is songs deemed too controversial, films considered too explicit, or even essential economic activities, the country's authorities often resort to the blunt instrument of prohibition, only to witness these banned items surge in popularity and demand. This resembles a Sisyphean task, constantly trying to hold back the relentless tide with a mere bucket – ultimately futile and quite messy.

Consider, for instance, the case of Eedris Abdulkareem’s "Tell Your Papa." On 11 April 2025, the Nigerian Broadcasting Commission (NBC), in its infinite wisdom, deemed the track unfit for public consumption. The result? On Sunday, April 13th, I witnessed a defiant act of protest that led to a dramatic increase in listens on digital streaming platforms.

This isn't a blip in the grand narrative of Nigerian governance. The Nigerian government has repeatedly suppressed artistic expression or imposed strict control over market forces through prohibitions. Yet, the consistent result of these efforts is an almost predictable opposite of the intended effect. Whether in music, the vibrant tapestry of Nollywood cinema, or the complex and evolving world of cryptocurrency, such bans inevitably fuel curiosity, breed rebellion, and cultivate a thriving underground demand that proves far more resistant to control.

This recurring phenomenon serves as a near-perfect illustration of the Streisand Effect. This peculiar psychological quirk dictates that any attempt to censor or suppress information, a product, or an activity will, paradoxically, only draws greater attention to it. The very act of prohibition becomes a form of perverse advertisement, amplifying the visibility and desirability of what the authorities sought to eradicate. When Falz released his politically charged "This is Nigeria" in 2018 – a searing critique of corruption, social decay, and the myriad ills plaguing the country – the NBC, in its role as a moral arbiter, deemed it "too controversial" and promptly banned it. The expectation, presumably, was that the song would quietly fade into obscurity, its message silenced. However, the reality proved quite different. Instead of disappearing, "This is Nigeria" went viral, igniting passionate national debates across traditional and social media platforms and spawning a wave of satirical memes that further cemented its place in the national consciousness. Far from achieving its aim, the ban only served to amplify its impact, providing a stark demonstration that attempts to silence dissent often backfire spectacularly.

This pattern of counterproductive censorship extends beyond the music industry. The vibrant and often provocative world of Nollywood cinema has also faced the authorities' restrictive tendencies. In 2020, the film "Oloture," a gritty and unflinching portrayal of the horrors of sex trafficking, encountered significant resistance from regulators who deemed its content too explicit for public viewing. The censors, perhaps believing they were protecting the public from exposure to such a disturbing visual, sought to limit its distribution and visibility. Yet, rather than stifling its reach and diminishing its impact, the ensuing controversy acted as a powerful catalyst, driving massive viewership on streaming platforms like Netflix. "Oloture" became one of the most-watched Nigerian films of that year, with its critical acclaim and commercial success directly fuelled by the very attempts to suppress it. The underlying lesson, repeated with almost monotonous regularity, is clear: attempts to suppress art perceived as provocative or challenging only make it more appealing, sought-after, and, ultimately, more influential.

The flawed logic behind these artistic and cultural prohibitions also extends to Nigeria's economic policies. The Buhari administration offers a particularly rich context for examining the counterproductive nature of these bans, as several key prohibitions not only failed to achieve their intended objectives but also actively worsened the very issues they were supposedly introduced to address.

In February 2021, the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) banned financial institutions from facilitating cryptocurrency transactions, citing concerns about fraud, money laundering, and threats to financial stability. The CBN aimed to curb speculative trading and protect the naira's value, but the policy backfired. Instead of quashing demand, it drove crypto activity underground, forcing traders and investors into the shadows. Peer-to-peer (P2P) transactions surged over 30%, and Nigeria remained a major cryptocurrency market, demonstrating demand resilience despite the regulatory prohibition. The ban also damaged Nigeria's fintech reputation, pushing talented entrepreneurs and developers to more crypto-friendly countries like Kenya and South Africa, resulting in a "brain drain" that hindered Nigeria's digital economic potential. Ultimately, the CBN's prohibition inadvertently fostered the very environment it sought to prevent, making it harder to track illicit transactions. By 2023, acknowledging the policy's failure and economic costs, the government reversed its stance, accepting sensible regulation as the superior approach.    

The Buhari government also imposed strict restrictions and tariffs on rice imports to boost local production and attain self-sufficiency. While this initially increased domestic rice output, it also led to a dramatic and sustained rise in local rice prices, placing a heavy burden on Nigerian consumers. The cost of a 50kg bag of rice soared from around N15,000 to nearly N40,000, significantly contributing to inflationary pressures and eroding purchasing power. Meanwhile, smuggled foreign rice remained widely available, often at lower prices than the inflated local variety. This created a perverse incentive, fostering sophisticated smuggling networks, particularly across Nigeria's borders with Benin, and disrupting market dynamics.    

My last example is the 2021’s Twitter ban. This unprecedented ban came after the removal of President Buhari's tweet, which was deemed to contain threats of violence. The government justified the ban as necessary to combat "misinformation" and address "national security threats." However, millions of Nigerians circumvented the ban using VPNs, rendering it largely ineffective. The economic impact was significant, with Nigeria's economy losing an estimated $500 million, particularly affecting the tech sector. Businesses, especially SMEs relying on Twitter, faced revenue losses, as did influencers and media organisations. Additionally, the ban harmed Nigeria's investment climate. Although the suspension was lifted in January 2022, it notably undermined the government's credibility and reinforced perceptions of authoritarianism.

The recurring pattern of failure associated with bans in Nigeria can be attributed to a confluence of psychological and practical factors. Firstly, there's the unavoidable Streisand Effect: as discussed earlier, attempts to suppress information, products, or activities invariably lead to increased attention and desirability. The forbidden fruit, it seems, is always the sweetest. Secondly, there is a critical lack of viable alternatives. Banning something without providing a readily accessible and appealing alternative effectively forces people to seek underground or illicit solutions. When legitimate channels are closed off, a black market will inevitably emerge to fill the void.    

Thirdly, the pervasive issue of weak enforcement remains a significant concern. Nigeria's porous borders, combined with widespread corruption within its institutions, make it notoriously easy to bypass restrictions and prohibitions. Smuggling flourishes, regulations are disregarded, and the state's authority is compromised. Lastly, a profound public distrust exists.  When bans are viewed as politically motivated – aimed at silencing critics or protecting vested interests rather than serving the public good – they inevitably foster defiance and resistance.  Public trust in the government's intentions is crucial for any policy to succeed, yet this trust is often lacking.

Instead of consistently resorting to heavy-handed and counterproductive prohibitions, the Nigerian government should adopt a more intelligent, nuanced, and proactive approach to governance, prioritising engagement, regulation, and incentives over suppression. For instance, in the arts and culture sector, regulators should move beyond knee-jerk bans on controversial music or films, fostering open dialogue with creators, encouraging responsible messaging, and promoting industry self-regulation. Similarly, in fintech, the government should recognise that outright bans are rarely the answer; rather than stifling innovation with blanket prohibitions, it should create clear and sensible regulations, such as licensing frameworks for cryptocurrency exchanges, to protect investors while allowing the sector to flourish. Furthermore, to boost local production, as with rice, government efforts should focus on providing meaningful support to domestic producers through subsidies, infrastructure investment, training, and quality control, rather than simply restricting imports. Crucially, no policy can succeed without effective enforcement, so addressing pervasive corruption within Nigeria's institutions, particularly at border crossings and regulatory agencies, is absolutely vital. Without a commitment to transparency, accountability, and the rule of law, bans will remain largely meaningless.

History, both in Nigeria and globally, has repeatedly demonstrated the inherent futility of relying on bans as a primary governance tool. From America's disastrous experiment with alcohol prohibition in the 1920s to Nigeria's more recent crypto and Twitter debacles, the evidence is overwhelming: prohibitions, more often than not, amplify demand, encourage defiance, and ultimately undermine the authority of the state.

The Nigerian government must internalise the fundamental lesson that effective governance is not about suppression, control, or the use of brute force. Instead, it is about fostering a climate of trust, promoting constructive engagement, implementing smart and evidence-based regulations, and utilising economic incentives to guide behaviour. Until this lesson is truly learned and consistently applied across all sectors, every ill-conceived and poorly executed ban will only reinforce one universal truth: in the complex and often unpredictable world of human behaviour, prohibition remains, with an almost ironic inevitability, the most effective form of advertisement.

Cheta Nwanze is Lead Partner at SBM Intelligence.