By Collins Mtika
In Malawi, as in much of the world, truth feels increasingly fragile. A single voice note, a recycled image, or a statistic stripped of context can race through WhatsApp groups like wildfire in the dry season, reshaping public opinion before facts have time to catch up.
This is not just background noise. It is a daily battle over reality itself, one that distorts conversations on everything from public health to human rights. But what if the answer to this flood of falsehoods is not more noise, but a stronger frontline of defenders?
That question lay at the heart of a six-month fellowship launched in April 2025 by Code for Africa (CfA), supported by the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
The goal was ambitious yet clear: equip Southern Africa’s watchdogs with the data skills, ethical grounding, and digital tools to push back against disinformation.
I joined the fellowship as an investigative journalist with the Centre for Investigative Journalism Malawi (CIJM). What followed was less a training course than a re-engineering of how I approach journalism.
By the end, it was clear that information resilience is not just possible; it is already being built.
The toolkit: mastering digital verification
The biggest shift was moving from chasing headlines to proactively investigating claims with an evidence-first approach. The training, delivered through CfA’s academy. AFRICA platform was a digital boot camp.
The curriculum covered everything from fact-checking basics to advanced techniques for spotting coordinated inauthentic behaviour (CIB) and protecting our own data. At its core was a five-step process we drilled into every claim: define, trace, scrutinise, contextualise, and publish with transparency.
That discipline changed everything. Instead of quick keyword searches, we worked with Open-Source Intelligence (OSINT): network mapping, metadata analysis, and exposing the hidden actors behind false narratives.
Equally important was learning to dissect the flood of manipulated photos, videos, and audio. Through hands-on exercises, we learnt to pull apart doctored videos frame by frame and trace images back to their true origins.
And all of it rested on ethics. Guided by the International Fact-Checking Network’s principles, we were reminded that credibility comes not from speed but from impartiality, transparency, and accountability. That toolkit is now the backbone of my work.
In practice: debunking dangerous narratives with data
Training in hand, the real test was applying it to live claims, the kind of shaping conversations in villages, markets, and parliaments.
Take child marriage. A national newspaper reported that Malawi had the eighth-highest rate globally. It was a shocking claim, but was it true? By checking UNICEF’s 2024 dataset, we found the real ranking was 14th. Still a crisis, but precision matters. Policymakers, campaigners, and readers need accuracy, not alarm.
Then came the “bed-camping” controversy in boarding schools, where overcrowding forced students to share beds. Some framed it as proof of “lesbian tendencies”, sparking disciplinary action. Our investigation showed something different: hostels were operating at nearly double capacity.
Homosexuality had been weaponised as an accusation, but the root issue was systemic neglect in education infrastructure. Our fact-check rated the claim “Partly False,” but more importantly, it shifted the debate from moral panic to policy failure.
Even climate reporting demanded this rigor. A widely shared claim said Malawi lost 59,000 football fields of forest between 2015 and 2020. We did the maths.
The real figure, based on UN FAO data, was closer to 288,000 hectares, over 403,000 football pitches. The story was not that the crisis had been overstated. It had been badly understated.
The nuance is the story
One of the deepest lessons was that facts alone are not enough. A technically correct verdict can still mislead if stripped of context. The real power lies in nuance.
For example, claims circulated that women in Malawi were taking their own lives because of unwanted pregnancies. Police data and expert interviews showed this was “False”. Men still account for most suicides, and unwanted pregnancy was not recorded as a main driver.
But stopping there would have been irresponsible.
Our reporting added context: high adolescent pregnancy rates and restrictive laws that push young women into unsafe abortions. The verdict alone was too narrow; the layered story told the truth.
Another challenge came in debates over language: should we say “sex worker” or “sexually exploited woman”? Neither term is neutral. One side, including sex worker–led groups, argues for recognition and rights.
The other insists the term hides exploitation. We rated the claim “Inconclusive” and instead unpacked the competing perspectives. What could have been a shouting match became a public education piece.
A reusable model for truth
The fellowship did not just sharpen a few journalists. It built a model for resilience against disinformation, rooted in data, transparency, and respect for nuance.
And it is reusable. The methods are not proprietary. Journalists, researchers, civil society groups, and even engaged citizens can adopt them. Start by questioning sensational claims. Trace them back to primary sources.
Add context, even when it complicates the story. And trust your audience with complexity; they can handle it.
The fight against disinformation will not be won by out-shouting falsehoods. It will be won by careful, credible, and context-rich reporting. That is how we reclaim reality, one fact-check at a time.
