What happens to our social media when we die? What becomes of our emails and large social-media following long after we have departed from the world?
According to a 2019 study by the Oxford Internet Institute, Facebook could contain more profiles of the deceased than active users by the end of this century.
The analysis estimated that, based on 2018 user levels, at least 1.4 billion members will die before 2100. In this scenario, the dead could outnumber the living on the platform as early as 2070.
Meanwhile, a survey from 2022 by the Pew Research Center reveals that only 23% of Americans have arranged for someone to manage their digital accounts in the event of their deaths.
In sub-Saharan Africa–where smartphone penetration has broadened rapidly over the years–awareness about concepts like digital wills and digital legacy management remains low.
”I Wanted to Keep Her Memory Alive, but I Couldn’t Even Log In”
Lagos-based photographer Grace Eze recalls trying to access her late sister’s Instagram pictures even though she didn’t have the account password. “Instagram kept sending automated responses. It was like speaking into a void,” she said.
As Eze discovered, gaining access to a user’s online profile after their death is an emotionally draining process riddled with legal complexities.
More often, tech companies prioritise privacy protection over family requests, meaning that unless arrangements were made in advance, immediate family members will find themselves without access to their deceased’s digital accounts.
In response to this concern, social-media apps have introduced tools to help users manage their digital afterlife. Facebook, for example, allows users to designate someone, known as a legacy contact, who can memorialised their profile after death.
Legacy contacts can be permitted to tributes, update profile pictures, and respond to friend requests. However, they cannot read private messages.
In the same vein, Google. offers an Inactive Account Manager to allow users to decide on what should happen to their email and cloud accounts after a certain period of inactivity.
Family relations can memorialise an Instagram account as long as they submit proof of death. The account is then frozen in time. No new logins are allowed.
Despite the scale of this transformation, many people remain unprepared. Many Nigerians either do not know such settings exist, while others avoid them due to the cultural taboos surrounding death.
”In African culture, we don’t like talking about death or making plans as if we are expecting to die,” says Uche Okafor, a tech policy analyst. ”But avoiding the conversation does not stop reality. It only makes it harder for our loved ones when the time comes.”
Legal frameworks play a role. Unlike the US, where the Revised Uniform Fiduciary Access to Digital Assets Act (RUFADAA) provides guidance , Nigeria lacks clear legislation governing access to digital accounts after death.
“The Nigerian Data Protection Regulation (NDPR) focuses on living users’ privacy. It does not address what happens after death,” explains Segun Ajibola, a legal scholar in Abuja.
As a result, grieving families often must navigate the complex policies of foreign tech companies. Without passwords, death certificates or court orders, they often hit a wall.
Grieving in the age of the Internet
Traditional mourning practices in Nigerian traditions involve physical rituals such as graveside visits and community storytelling. But with the rise of social media, grief has shifted online.
”When my uncle passed, we opened a WhatsApp memorial group where people could share prayers and photos,” says Kelechi Obasi, a university student in Abuja. ”It helped, but it also felt strange. Can you really pour libations through a phone?”
Some people embrace these virtual spaces as modern “digital libation”–a way to honour the dead in today’s connected world. But not everyone is comfortable with this shift. Online mourning is more public and permanent than traditional rites.
The Risks of Digital Immortality
There is also a darker side to the digital afterlife. Hackers are increasingly targeting dormant accounts. A 2023 report by cybersecurity firm Kaspersky found a 27% increase in identity theft cases involving deceased individuals.
In an even more controversial trend, some tech firms are developing AI-powered resurrection–chatbots based on a person’s texts, emails, and social-media posts.
In South Korea, a TV documentary titled Meeting You feature a grieving mother interacting face-to-face with a VR version of her deceased daughter in what many found emotional but unsettling.
”Technology is stretching grief into infinity,” says Uche Okafor ”But mourning needs an ending. It’s how we heal.”
In addition to Facebook’s Legacy Contact and Google’s Inactive Account Manager, Okafor recommends practical steps with which Nigerians can preserve their digital legacy, such as appointing a trusted person to manage your digital accounts and writing down important passwords and storing them securely.
“Planning for your digital death is not a curse,” says Uche Okafor. “It is an act of love. It ensures that your memories and your dignity are protected after you are gone.”
The digital afterlife raises profound questions about identity, memory, and mortality in an era where nothing is ever truly deleted.
The digital afterlife raises complex issues as social media platforms like Facebook may soon have more deceased users than active ones. Despite this looming shift, few people plan for managing their digital legacy posthumously, and many remain unaware of the tools available for this purpose. Social media companies like Facebook and Google have developed features such as legacy contacts and inactive account managers to address the handling of digital accounts after death; however, cultural taboos regarding death, particularly in regions like Nigeria, prevent many from utilizing these mechanisms.
The lack of legislation surrounding digital account management posthumously, as seen in Nigeria, poses challenges for grieving families. This complicates accessing deceased individuals' accounts without proper arrangements, often leaving families to navigate foreign tech policies and legal requirements. The rise of digital mourning practices, such as WhatsApp memorial groups, represents a shift from traditional rituals, though not everyone is comfortable with the permanency and public nature of online grieving. Additionally, the digital afterlife presents risks, including identity theft of dormant accounts and controversial AI resurrection technologies that challenge the limits of mourning and healing.
Finally, essential practices for preserving digital legacy include appointing a trusted individual to manage accounts and securely storing passwords. Embracing digital death planning is seen as an act of love, ensuring the protection of memories and dignity, and prompting broader questions about identity and mortality when digital existence seems perpetual.
