By Moses E. Akhimienmhonan
The controversy surrounding the invitation of Martins Vincent Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan (VDM), to speak at the recent Annual General Conference of the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) in Port Harcourt has generated considerable debate.
Was he the appropriate choice for a professional gathering of lawyers? Did his background and public persona fit the expectations of an NBA conference? Were the concerns raised about his invitation justified?
These are legitimate questions.
But there is another question, perhaps more important, that the controversy seems to have pushed into the background:
Why has Nigeria created a space in which a man with a smartphone and a social-media platform can command the attention and confidence that many established institutions appear to be struggling to retain?
For me, that is the real story.
VDM did not create the vacuum. He found himself standing in it.
When citizens look elsewhere
Over the past few years, VDM has become an unusual phenomenon in Nigeria.
To some Nigerians who feel powerless, ignored or shut out by established institutions, he has become another door to knock on when other doors appear closed.
When people have problems that ordinarily should be taken to the police, some now take them to VDM. When someone believes he has been cheated but cannot afford a prolonged legal battle, social media sometimes becomes the first avenue of appeal. When violent attacks, kidnappings or killings occur, VDM is often among those drawing public attention to the victims and demanding answers.
When someone feels oppressed or ignored by an institution, it is increasingly common to see the person make a video and direct an appeal to him.
Time and again, he has brought attention to cases that might otherwise have disappeared quietly.
That does not mean that everything VDM says or does should be accepted as correct. It certainly does not mean that social media should replace the police, the courts or other legally constituted institutions.
Far from it.
But the phenomenon itself deserves serious examination.
Why are people listening to him?
The Ahoada school project
My reflection on this question deepened recently when I came across a video of VDM inspecting a school project in Ahoada, Rivers State.
The project is being financed by Nigerian music star Burna Boy, who, according to the account surrounding the project, entrusted VDM with overseeing its execution.
Ahoada West Local Government Area is the ancestral home of Burna Boy, and the project appears to be a significant intervention intended to provide educational infrastructure for the community.
VDM was seen walking through the developing facility, taking his followers from one section of the project to another.
There were classrooms, toilets, a clinic, a football field and other facilities under construction.
He explained aspects of the work and discussed how funds were being applied.
I was struck by the apparent emphasis on visibility and accountability.
But another thought immediately followed:
Why should a project intended for the public good require an individual social-media personality to become its public face of accountability?
And that question leads to an even bigger one.
What has happened to the institutions that should ordinarily provide such facilities and guarantee accountability in the first place?
The project therefore presents two contrasting realities.
On one hand, it demonstrates what individuals can achieve when they decide to deploy their resources and influence for the public good.
On the other, it exposes the gaps that emerge when government institutions fail, or are perceived to have failed, to fulfil responsibilities expected of them.
Why VDM?
I also found myself asking another question:
Why did Burna Boy choose VDM?
I cannot speak for the musician, and I do not know all the considerations behind his decision.
But the answer may have something to do with trust, availability and the perception that VDM would remain visibly engaged with the project and publicly account for its progress.
That choice is significant.
It suggests that VDM’s influence may no longer be confined to social-media advocacy or public confrontation.
He is increasingly occupying a space between people who need help and individuals who have resources but are looking for someone they trust to act.
That is precisely what makes his rise worth studying.
The missing link
Nigeria has no shortage of institutions.
We have the police. We have courts, lawyers and judges. We have regulatory agencies, elected representatives, ministries and commissions.
We have some of the finest professionals and most accomplished intellectuals on the continent.
Yet an increasing number of Nigerians appear to believe that one man with a phone and a social-media platform may give them a better chance of being heard than some of the institutions formally established to protect their rights.
That contradiction should concern all of us.
VDM appears to have occupied the space between the citizen and the institution.
He has become, for some people, a missing link between a complaint and the possibility of being heard.
And that is not necessarily a compliment to VDM.
It is, in many respects, an indictment of the system.
Expertise without courage
This phenomenon also raises questions about expertise and public responsibility.
Nigeria has no shortage of educated and highly accomplished professionals. But expertise alone does not guarantee that institutions will act courageously, fairly or independently.
Knowledge becomes most valuable when it is accompanied by the willingness to deploy it in defence of justice and the public interest.
This is where expertise intersects with power.
Public confidence is shaped not only by what professionals know, but also by how freely they are able to exercise their judgement when doing so brings them into conflict with powerful interests.
Over time, some individuals who were once celebrated for speaking truth to power have moved closer to the institutions and actors they once criticised.
Such transitions are not necessarily evidence that principles have been abandoned. Proximity to power can sometimes provide greater opportunities to influence change.
But it can also make sustained criticism more difficult.
The deeper question is therefore this:
How much of the independence that made a public voice distinctive can survive when that voice moves closer to power?
The lawyers who allegedly agree privately
One of VDM’s claims after the NBA conference particularly caught my attention.
In a video clip, he said that some lawyers approached him privately to express support for views he had raised publicly. According to him, they told him they would have liked to express similar views themselves but felt constrained by their profession.
I have not independently verified that claim.
But if it is accurate, it raises a profound question about professional culture.
What happens when people acknowledge a problem privately but are reluctant to confront it publicly?
At what point can concern for the dignity of a profession become an obstacle to acknowledging its shortcomings?
And what should the dignity of a profession ultimately mean if ordinary people are gradually losing confidence in the institutions associated with it?
These are uncomfortable questions, but they are questions worth asking.
Falana and the VDM controversy
This brings me to another dimension of the controversy.
Femi Falana, SAN, has for decades been one of Nigeria’s most prominent voices on human rights, civil liberties and public accountability.
His record of confronting injustice gives his interventions considerable weight.
It is therefore understandable that his criticism of VDM’s invitation to the NBA conference attracted attention.
Falana questioned the wisdom of inviting “somebody from nowhere” to such a professional gathering.
The argument about expertise is understandable. Professional bodies have every right to consider the competence, experience and suitability of speakers invited to their conferences.
But the expression “somebody from nowhere” also raises another question:
Where exactly is nowhere?
By what measure do we decide who counts as “somebody” in Nigeria?
Is recognition determined by professional qualifications, titles, political connections, wealth, family background, polished English or acceptance by the establishment?
Or can public relevance also emerge from the trust an individual earns among ordinary citizens?
I believe that is the question beneath the controversy.
Falana and VDM may have more in common than it appears
Interestingly, Falana and VDM may not be as far apart as the present disagreement suggests.
They belong to different generations and operate in very different ways.
One is a highly respected Senior Advocate of Nigeria with decades of legal and human-rights activism behind him. The other is a social-media personality who has built his influence through direct communication with the public.
Their methods are different.
Their language is different.
Their platforms are different.
But both, in different periods and in different ways, have occupied a space created when citizens lose confidence in formal institutions.
For years, Falana himself became one of the voices Nigerians turned to when they believed established institutions were unwilling or unable to confront powerful interests.
That is why the broader lesson may not be about choosing between Falana and VDM.
It should instead be about asking why Nigerians continue to need people like them in the first place.
Where institutions work effectively, citizens should not have to search for a Falana, a VDM, a courageous journalist or a generous philanthropist before they can be heard.
The danger of replacing institutions with personalities
There is, however, a danger in celebrating personalities too much.
No society can sustainably depend on exceptional individuals.
Individuals are temporary. They can make mistakes. Their circumstances can change. Their loyalties can shift. Even those who begin with the best intentions can eventually become compromised.
Institutions, at their best, are designed to provide continuity beyond personalities.
Justice should not depend on whether a particular influencer is interested in a case.
Police accountability should not depend on whether a particular activist picks up his phone.
Public infrastructure should not depend solely on whether a celebrity chooses to intervene.
Electoral justice should not depend on the influence of individual personalities.
The ultimate goal should therefore be to build institutions strong enough that exceptional individuals become complements to the system rather than substitutes for it.
The judiciary and the wider crisis of confidence
The same concern extends to Nigeria’s electoral and judicial systems.
There is already growing discussion among some opposition political actors about the usefulness or effectiveness of post-election litigation following the 2027 elections.
Whether that ultimately develops into a formal or collective position remains to be seen.
But the very possibility deserves attention.
The courts are supposed to provide a final avenue of redress when electoral processes are disputed.
Therefore, whenever political actors begin speaking as though that avenue may no longer offer sufficient hope, the issue should not simply be dismissed as partisan rhetoric.
The more important question is:
What has brought them to that conclusion?
The issue goes beyond any particular political party or election.
It speaks to public confidence in the judiciary as a credible and dependable mechanism for resolving disputes.
And once confidence in the formal avenue of redress begins to decline, another question inevitably follows:
What is the alternative?
The man without a wig
VDM has no wig.
He has no gown.
He has no SAN after his name.
He holds no political office.
He may lack the polished language and professional pedigree of many people who sat in that conference hall.
Yet he possesses something that some Nigerian institutions are struggling to recover:
the attention and trust of a significant number of ordinary Nigerians.
That trust does not make him infallible.
It does not make him a substitute for lawyers, judges, police officers, regulators or elected officials.
And it certainly should not place him beyond scrutiny.
But it is significant enough to make us ask how he earned it.
The real question
The temptation in moments like this is to focus on the individual.
Is VDM qualified?
Is his dressing appropriate?
Is his language acceptable?
Should he have been invited to the NBA conference?
Are his methods proper?
These questions have their place.
But if we stop there, we may miss the bigger story.
The rise of VDM is telling us something about Nigeria.
When people take police matters to social media, something is missing.
When citizens seek justice from online influencers instead of established institutions, something is missing.
When professional knowledge becomes disconnected from conscience and public responsibility, something is missing.
When professionals acknowledge concerns privately but are reluctant to express them publicly, something is missing.
And when voices once celebrated for challenging power become increasingly identified with defending or explaining the establishment, something is missing.
VDM did not create that missing link.
He simply found himself standing in the widening space between ordinary Nigerians and the institutions that were supposed to serve them.
What should VDM do with the influence?
The extraordinary confidence VDM has acquired among sections of the public is both an opportunity and a responsibility.
His greatest contribution may ultimately not be measured by the number of disputes he intervenes in, the distressed citizens he assists or even the projects he helps supervise.
A more enduring contribution would be to use his influence to turn public attention back towards the institutions that ought to be functioning properly.
He can ask why they failed.
He can demand accountability from those responsible.
He can expose gaps.
He can amplify the voices of victims.
But, perhaps most importantly, he can insist that institutions do their jobs.
That is where the VDM phenomenon can become bigger than VDM himself.
Because the objective should not be to create a permanent society in which citizens must find an influential personality before they can obtain justice.
The objective should be to build a society where the ordinary citizen can walk into a police station, approach a court, contact a regulatory agency or petition a public institution and reasonably expect to be heard.
VDM is the symptom, not the disease
Perhaps, therefore, the controversy surrounding VDM’s appearance at the NBA conference should not end with arguments about whether he deserved to be on the panel.
The more important conversation is about the society that produced his relevance.
VDM may not be the answer.
He may not even be the right person for every problem.
But he is evidence of a question Nigeria has not adequately answered:
Why are people listening to him?
Until established institutions confront that question honestly, dismissing VDM will not make the phenomenon disappear.
The smartphone is not the problem.
The social-media platform is not the problem.
Even VDM himself may not be the problem.
The problem is the widening distance between citizens and the institutions that are supposed to serve them.
Close that distance, restore confidence, make institutions responsive, strengthen accountability and give citizens reason to believe that justice can be obtained without shouting online—and the space occupied by personalities like VDM will naturally shrink.
Until then, he will remain what his rise increasingly suggests he has become:
the face of a missing link.
Moses E. Akhimienmhonan
Writer & Public Affairs Commentator