The Profiteers of Premature Obituaries

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

There was a time long ago that a solemn bell tolled only when someone of substance truly kicked the bucket. It was a sign of finality, of transition, of the grand exit. But in Nigeria, the bell now tolls willy-nilly, oftentimes for the living, curiously summoned by mischief-makers with itchy fingers and monetised misadventures. In a digital landscape where the price of truth has depreciated below the naira’s freefalling value, the only commodity more lucrative than scandal is the premature death announcement of a popular figure. Who knew that the business of “killing” celebrities off before their time could be so profitable?  

  Veteran actor Olu Jacobs has lived and died more times than a proverbial cat has lives. Every so often, some enterprising purveyor of untruths announces his supposed departure, prompting a frantic outpouring of tributes and remembrances – only for the man himself, or his family, to make a quiet reappearance (or terse rebuttal) like a character in an unfinished script. Zack Orji, too, was recently escorted to the great beyond in the fevered imaginations of some disreputable headline-chasers, even as he merely rested from the rigours of an ailment. Tony Umez had his turn at being prematurely eulogised, and the inimitable Ngozi Ezeonu found herself having to publicly clarify that she was still among the breathing after some excitable fingers typed her into oblivion.

This macabre obsession with death is not unique to Nigeria. Globally, celebrities and political figures have been subjected to metaphorical assassinations at the hands of reckless media and unscrupulous bloggers. In 2016, the world was briefly convinced that Queen Elizabeth II had passed away after a hoax gained traction on Twitter, causing a royal panic. American actor Morgan Freeman has been reported dead so many times that he once jokingly reassured fans that he was still alive and in search of the source of the rumours. Paul McCartney of The Beatles was famously declared dead in the 1960s, with an entire conspiracy theory spun around his supposed demise. Even the great Nelson Mandela, in his lifetime, found himself prematurely mourned in various fabricated reports before his actual passing. 

  And the gory parade does not stop there. Beyoncé was falsely reported dead on 23 February, 2015, in a fabricated car crash, which triggered a Twitter storm with the hashtag #RIPBeyonce. Jackie Chan, a victim of multiple death hoaxes, was “killed” in Austria in June 2013 while filming a movie, only for another report to “finish him off” again in September. Dutch football legend Johan Cruyff was prematurely mourned by the newspaper De Volkskrant in 2014 when a test version of their website mistakenly announced his death – a full two years before his actual passing. Miley Cyrus, too, has been digitally buried multiple times, from car accidents to suicide hoaxes, including a YouTube hack in 2008 that falsely declared her dead at the hands of a drunk driver. These incidents underscore the global penchant for falsely burying the living, proving that in the age of sensationalism, the world is united in its ability to conjure phantoms of the departed.

It begs the question – why? Why this morbid fascination with fabricating death? The answer, as with most things in the age of clickbait, is simple: engagement and revenue. The unholy matrimony between sensationalism and the internet’s profit model has given birth to a monstrous culture where a fabricated tragedy can bring in more ad revenue than a well-researched exposé. In simpler terms: eyeballs equal money, and nothing grabs attention quite like the premature obituary of a beloved figure.

 One would think that a society whose elders caution against calling death carelessly – lest the grim reaper overhear and take it as an invitation – would be more circumspect. But alas, the lure of instant virality has drowned out cultural caution. Today’s bloggers, newshounds, and social media “journalists” operate without remorse, without scruples, and certainly without fact-checking. They function on the ethos of post first, verify never, apologise only if dragged to court.

 And what of the victims? The true tragedy of these premature death announcements lies not just in the distress they cause to the individuals and their families but also in their insidious ability to erode public trust. When a society is constantly fed falsehoods, it becomes desensitised to truth. The day an actual legend truly passes, there will be an unsettling hesitation before we mourn – just in case it’s another prank for clicks.

 Of course, the solution to this epidemic of fraudulent obituaries is neither simple nor straightforward. Public education on media literacy could help; a discerning populace would be less susceptible to such misinformation. Fact-checking platforms can be empowered to nip false reports in the bud before they gain traction. But let’s not be naïve – the merchants of deception are resilient. They will always find newer, sneakier ways to peddle their wares.

 Regulatory bodies could flex their muscles a little more. The National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) and Nigeria’s cybercrime laws already have some teeth, but they often bite selectively. Stricter enforcement, coupled with tangible repercussions for the perpetrators, could serve as a deterrent. If a handful of these digital Grim Reapers were to face stiff penalties – fines, social media bans, even lawsuits – their peers might think twice before hastily pronouncing someone dead.

Around the world, different nations have tackled disinformation with varying degrees of success. In the UK, laws against malicious communications have been used to prosecute individuals who knowingly spread harmful falsehoods. In a notable case, June Ashimola, 55, who was falsely declared dead, won a High Court case after proving her existence. The court recognized the fraudulent nature of the death certificate and revoked related legal documents.

  In Germany, strict regulations require social media companies to swiftly remove false reports or face heavy fines. Even in the free-speech bastion of the United States, defamation lawsuits have led to substantial settlements against reckless publishers of untruths. Nigeria could take a leaf or two from these playbooks, tailoring solutions to fit our own digital Wild Wild West. Victims of false death reports can pursue legal action for defamation, emotional distress, and other related claims. For instance, Tony Umez expressed intentions to take legal steps against those spreading false narratives about him.

But at the end of the day, the real battle lies in shifting societal values. Until we, as a people, begin to prioritise accuracy over virality, integrity over engagement, and truth over profit, the cycle will continue. Bloggers will keep “killing” celebrities to harvest clicks, and audiences will keep consuming these fabrications without question. If we do not actively reject this culture of falsehood, we may wake up one day to find that the most unbelievable news is the one that is actually true.

And so, to the next aspiring undertaker-turned-blogger who, even as we speak, is sharpening their quill for yet another unfounded obituary: may your drafts wither before they see the light of day. May your clickbait crumble into the abyss of irrelevance. May the living outlive your mischief a thousandfold, and may the souls you so eagerly dispatch in error rise to haunt your conscience till you learn that truth is greater than traffic, and integrity is mightier than mischief. May the internet, in its boundless wisdom, one day awaken to the true worth of credibility over chaos. Amen and Amen!