By Osezua Stephen-Imobhio
Nollywood’s journey—from the market stalls of Alaba and Idumota to playlists on global platforms—is one of Africa’s great stories of creative entrepreneurship. Filmmakers who once hawked tapes and DVDs now build audiences through algorithms, turning local tales into content with international reach. But while distribution has moved from physical to digital, the rules that govern our storytelling have not kept pace. Fragmented regulation, opaque platform moderation and overbroad takedowns threaten to blunt the reach and richness of Nigerian cinema just as the world is finally listening.
This is not an abstract policy debate. The film sector supports livelihoods, trains talent and projects Nigerian narratives worldwide. How we govern content in the digital era will determine whether those dynamics expand or contract. The old model of broadcast regulation—clear jurisdiction, established watchdogs and narrowly technical enforcement—no longer fits a world in which a single video can be streamed on multiple services, recommended by inscrutable algorithms and accessed across dozens of legal systems. Instead of a global consensus, we face regulatory divergence: Europe’s new rules, U.S. legal debates, and diverse experiments across Asia are producing a patchwork of expectations for platforms and creators.
Europe’s Digital Services Act and Digital Markets Act set new standards for transparency, risk mitigation and platform responsibility. The United States continues to wrestle with the scope of Section 230 and intermediary liability. Asian countries are trying a range of models—from light-touch incentivisation to heavier oversight—with very different consequences for creativity and investment. For Nollywood, this fragmentation has practical implications: platforms may geoblock content to avoid legal exposure; automated moderation can strip cultural context from complex works; and inconsistent standards make investors and distributors wary.
There is a paradox at the heart of Nollywood’s digital success. Platforms have democratized distribution and brought unprecedented audiences to African stories. Yet those same platforms operate under moderation systems and commercial incentives designed for other markets. A folk morality tale, a culturally specific depiction of festivals or rites, or a biting satire may be misread by automated systems or removed because a platform prefers conservative takedown policies over contested appeals. The result is a chilling effect that narrows the kinds of stories that travel.
But protecting creativity does not mean ignoring culture. Our traditions, values and collective memory are not dispensable collateral in the race for market access. They are the raw materials of our storytelling and the social glue that gives many films their meaning at home. Countries such as India provide instructive examples of trying to balance filmmakers’ freedom with respect for cultural norms. India’s public debates, certification processes and regulatory frameworks reflect a national conversation about how creative rights and social values intersect, even when that conversation is contested. We can learn from such approaches: adopt mechanisms that acknowledge cultural sensitivities while safeguarding artistic autonomy and preventing censorship from becoming a cloak for political or commercial control.
The answer lies in a framework that protects both our culture and creative freedom. First, Nigeria needs a modern Film Commission that does more than issue permits. It should be an enabling institution—facilitating co-productions, administering incentives, supporting indigenous-language works and serving as a credible interlocutor with global platforms. Within that institution, a culturally informed classification and appeals mechanism must be established. This should be industry-led, transparent, and supported by statute so that ratings are intelligible to platforms and producers, and appeals are prompt, fair and public.
Second, any cultural-protection measures must be narrowly tailored and accompanied by robust safeguards for expression. Certification and content advisories are legitimate tools; blunt bans and opaque takedowns are not. Notice-and-appeal processes must be time-bound and accessible; independent oversight must be available for disputed cases; and any obligations placed on platforms should be proportional to their size and influence to avoid disadvantaging smaller creators and local services.
Third, algorithmic transparency and audits should be required for major platforms operating in Nigeria. Platforms should publish moderation data, show how recommendations are promoted or demoted, and commission independent audits to assess bias against local content. These steps make it harder for cultural content to be invisibly sidelined and allow regulators and creators to hold platforms accountable for systemic disadvantage.
Fourth, cultural protection must be more than regulation. It should be a living part of industry policy: funding and tax incentives for indigenous-language films, festival support that showcases local tradition, training programs that build cultural competence among platform content teams, and civic education that helps audiences understand media literacy and plural values.
We should borrow selectively from other jurisdictions. Europe’s laws remind us of the importance of transparency and platform accountability. South Korea and Japan demonstrate how public support and a strong distribution pipeline can nurture domestic industries without suffocating creativity. India teaches that recognition of cultural concerns can coexist with vigorous artistic debate—provided safeguards exist against arbitrary or politically motivated suppression. By contrast, heavy-handed models elsewhere show the cost of sacrificing artistic vitality for control.
Practical steps are within reach: convene a national consultation of creators, platforms, civil society and cultural custodians to draft a Digital Content Governance White Paper within six months; establish a Film Commission taskforce to propose reforms within a year; pilot an industry-led classification and appeals mechanism with platform buy‑in; require transparency reporting by platforms; and expand funding and co‑production incentives to support culturally rooted storytelling.
Nollywood has always adapted, turning constraint into creativity and local insight into global appeal. The digital age asks a new question: can we design institutions and rules that protect citizens, shield our culture and grow our industry without silencing its inventiveness? If we act now—proactively, pragmatically and with respect for both art and tradition—we can shape a governance model that fits Nigeria. We can ensure our stories travel farther, arrive fairer, and continue to reflect the values and traditions that made them worth telling in the first place.
*Osezua Stephen-Imobhio is Founder of the African Indigenous Language Film Festival and a longstanding stakeholder in the Nigerian film industry.
