Love him or loathe him, VeryDarkMan (VDM) has become one of the most talked-about public figures in Nigeria today.
His videos ignite fierce debates. His methods offend some and inspire others. His critics accuse him of sensationalism; his admirers hail him as a fearless defender of the ordinary Nigerian. Yet beyond the arguments over his style lies a far more important question:
Why has one young man, armed with nothing more than a smartphone, become one of the loudest voices demanding accountability in a nation of over 200 million people?
The answer says less about VeryDarkMan than it does about Nigeria.
It speaks to a country where many of the institutions and personalities that once challenged power have grown quieter, weaker, or more accommodating. It reveals a vacuum in public life—a vacuum into which a new generation of dissenters has inevitably stepped.
VeryDarkMan did not create that vacuum. He simply occupies it.
There was a time in Nigeria when the ordinary citizen was never left to confront power alone.
There was always someone standing at the barricades.
Wole Soyinka wielded the power of the pen, the stage and the moral imagination. Gani Fawehinmi transformed the courtroom into a battlefield for justice and constitutionalism. Tai Solarin challenged authority with uncommon courage and lived the values he preached. Alao Aka-Bashorun, Kanmi Ishola Osobu and Femi Falana transformed the legal profession into a formidable platform for defending democracy and the rule of law. Justices Akinola Aguda, Chukwudifu Oputa, Kayode Esho and several others formed an informal tradition of judicial activism, delivering courageous and progressive judgments from the bench. Meanwhile, Beko Ransome-Kuti mobilised the medical profession in the service of freedom and human rights.
The press was truly the Fourth Estate. Newspapers investigated, questioned and unsettled those in authority. Ayodele Awojobi confronted incompetence wherever he found it. Obafemi Awolowo’s interventions carried such moral weight that governments ignored them at their peril. Every week, Fela Anikulapo-Kuti used music to ridicule corruption and expose the absurdities of military rule. In the North, Balarabe Musa remained a relentless voice against feudal politics and authoritarianism.
On the campuses, student leaders—including young activists such as Omoyele Sowore—were not merely advocates for better hostels or cheaper meals; they were the conscience of the nation. The labour movement did not issue empty threats; it organised, mobilised and acted. Intellectuals such as Edwin Madunagu, Segun Osoba, Biodun Jeyifo, Bala Usman and Jibo Ibrahim supplied the scholarship and ideological clarity that exposed the systematic plunder of Nigeria and challenged the myths used to justify oppression. Even within the military—yes, the military—officers like Colonel Abubakar Dangiwa Umar and a handful of others defied convention and risked everything to stand on the side of democracy.
It was not a perfect era. Governments were often repressive. Activists were harassed, detained and, in some cases, killed. Yet power always knew that someone was watching, someone was questioning, someone was prepared to resist.
The people were never entirely abandoned.
Today, much of that ecosystem of organised dissent has withered.
Many institutions that once challenged power now seek accommodation with it. Sections of the media have become timid or transactional. Civil society is fragmented. Labour often hesitates or compromises. Student unionism has lost much of its national influence. Too many intellectuals have retreated into consultancy, partisan comfort or silence.
The consequence is that public anger often finds no organised expression.
Into that vacuum has stepped VeryDarkMan.
Whether one admires him or dislikes him is, in many respects, beside the point.
Like many disruptive figures before him, he provokes strong emotions. His methods are unconventional. His language is often abrasive. His interventions can be impulsive and controversial. Yet it is difficult to deny that he has succeeded in doing what many established institutions have failed to do: he has captured the attention of millions of young Nigerians and channelled their frustrations into national conversations about injustice, abuse of power, corruption and accountability.
History teaches us that every generation produces its own dissenters.
They rarely look alike.
They do not speak the same language or employ the same methods.
Fela was not Gani.
Gani was not Soyinka.
Soyinka was not Beko.
None resembled Tai Solarin.
Each reflected the realities, technologies and political circumstances of his own time.
