Social Media

By Usman Usman Garba

The rapid growth of online media, especially online newspapers, has significantly changed journalism in Nigeria. 

Today, news travels faster than ever before. With just a smartphone, Nigerians can access local, national and international news within seconds. This digital transformation has helped expose corruption, amplify citizens’ voices and bring government closer to the people.

However, these advantages have also created serious challenges. The unchecked rise of numerous online news platforms, many of which lack professional standards, is gradually eroding the quality, credibility, and value of credible news in Nigeria.

Opening an online news platform has become cheap and easy. Unlike traditional print media and broadcast stations, which require licences, physical offices, and trained professionals, many online platforms operate without clear structures or accountability. As a result, individuals with little or no journalism training now run platforms that publish news without proper editorial control.

Without professional gatekeeping, many stories are published without verification, balance or ethical consideration. Headlines are often poorly written, misleading or dotted with grammatical errors. This situation has weakened journalism standards and reduced public confidence in the media.

One of the biggest problems is the unhealthy competition to publish breaking news. Many online platforms rush to be the first to report incidents, especially during political events, security crises or court proceedings. In this race, accuracy is often sacrificed. Rumours, unverified social media posts and hearsays are turned into news.

Additionally, fake news and misinformation have become common online. False reports about elections, insecurity, government policies and public figures spread widely before they can be corrected. 

Unfortunately, corrections rarely receive the same attention as the original false stories. This has made it difficult for many Nigerians to know what to believe and which media organisations to trust.

Plagiarism is another serious challenge. Many online platforms copy stories from credible newspapers, television stations and news agencies without proper attribution. 

Some only change headlines or rearrange paragraphs. This unethical practice discourages investigative journalism and erodes originality.

Media organisations that invest time and resources in quality reporting often lose traffic and revenue to platforms that simply copy and paste content.

Sensationalism has also become widespread. Shocking headlines, exaggerated claims and emotional language are used to attract clicks.

Stories about scandals, rumours, insults and the private lives of public figures often receive more attention than reports on education, healthcare, insecurity, unemployment and the economy. As a result, serious national issues are pushed aside.

Social media has made this situation worse. Many online platforms now rely heavily on Facebook, X (formerly Twitter), WhatsApp and TikTok for traffic. 

To satisfy social media algorithms, content is designed to trend rather than to inform the public. News is judged by likes, shares and comments and not by accuracy or public interest. In this environment, truth is often sacrificed for popularity.

The impact on public trust is alarming. Many Nigerians now dismiss online reports as “fake news” or “social media stories.” Sadly, this growing distrust also affects credible media organisations that still uphold professional standards.

When trust in the media declines, accountability, transparency and good governance suffer.

Economic pressure also plays a role. Many online platforms struggle financially due to low advertising revenue. Some resort to paid news, political propaganda or sponsored stories disguised as journalism. This further blurs the line between news reporting and public relations, thereby misleading the public.

Despite these challenges, online journalism remains vital to Nigeria’s democracy. Digital platforms have helped expose corruption, promote citizen journalism and cover neglected communities. 

The problem is not online media itself, but the lack of professionalism, regulation and ethical commitment. To protect quality journalism, media owners must invest in training, robust editorial systems, and ethical standards.

Journalists must return to the core principles of their profession: truth, accuracy, balance and fairness. Regulatory bodies and professional organisations, such as the Nigerian Union of Journalists, must be more active in enforcing standards and disciplining offenders.

The government also has a role to play, as the Kano State government did with online media by allocating offices and registering them, but regulation must be handled carefully to avoid threatening press freedom. 

Efforts to fight fake news should focus on promoting professionalism, not silencing critical voices. The public is not exempt from responsibility. Nigerians must learn to verify information before sharing it, especially on Facebook, WhatsApp and other social media platforms. Supporting credible media organisations through readership and subscriptions will also help sustain quality journalism.

In conclusion, the state of news in Nigeria is at a crossroads. If the current trend of unprofessional online platforms continues unchecked, quality journalism will suffer greatly. But if journalists, media owners, regulators, and the public work together, Nigeria’s online media space can still become a powerful force for truth, development and democracy.

Usman Usman writes from Kano via usmangarba100@gmail.com.

By Tahir Mahmood Saleh

Kabeer 2Pac’s rise to online fame began in early 2025, when he started posting highly unconventional videos on his TikTok account. Born Kabiru Isma’il and known online as Kabeer2pac (a name he chose in homage to the late American rapper 2Pac Shakur), he quickly garnered massive attention for performing bizarre, often shocking stunts. His content included immersing himself in stagnant open cesspools and smearing sediment on his body, actions he explained were not signs of madness but deliberate attempts to “trend” and gain visibility online (“ɗaukaka na ke nema”).

The TikTok metrics behind his rise were striking. Within months of posting these videos, Kabeer had amassed millions of views and a large following. One of his most-viewed clips, in which he shook off charcoal dust while wearing a distinctive winter jacket, reached over 51 million views, and at one point, his account had approximately 1.8 million followers and 15.1 million likes. These numbers reflect how quickly his brand took off in an environment where the algorithm rewards shocking or novel content.

Kabeer’s content evolved over time as he experimented with different styles and stunts to maintain attention. After his early cesspool videos gained traction, he shifted to other eye-grabbing visuals, such as having bags of charcoal dust dumped on him, which again drew viral attention. This strategy positioned him as a cultural exemplar of the “attention economy,” in which creators leverage extreme content to secure views, engagement, and, eventually, financial or material rewards.

His fame translated into real-world opportunities, though not without controversy. A notable outcome of his online popularity was an invitation from Gwanki Travels and Tours International Ltd in Kaduna, who publicly offered him a free ticket to perform Umrah (a pilgrimage to Mecca). Kabeer expressed gratitude for achieving the fame he sought and noted that such endorsement was among the factors that drove him to continue his work. However, reactions were mixed: while many fans celebrated his creative drive, some religious leaders and critics warned against harmful behaviour and urged investment in education or trade instead.

Despite his meteoric rise, Kabeer himself acknowledged the ephemeral nature of his viral popularity. In later interviews shared online, he said he understood that people might soon tire of his antics as the public constantly seeks fresh content and new personalities. Beyond the sensational stunts, he also sought to diversify his videos by including short comedy skits and dance clips to retain audience interest, a common strategy among creators seeking to build sustainable relevance.

Today, the outcome is telling. There is no consistent content relevance, no major promotion, no formal education leveraged, no lasting sponsorships, no two million followers, just a fading digital footprint. Kabeer2pac’s story is not merely about an individual; it is a cautionary tale.

For Arewa content creators, the lesson is clear: fame without strategy is noise, not power. Visibility alone does not ensure sustainability. Without structure, skill development, personal growth, and long-term planning, viral attention fades as quickly as it arrives. In the digital age, the challenge is not how to trend, but how to remain relevant with dignity, purpose, and value.

Tahir Mahmood Saleh wrote from Kano via tahirmsaleh.seggroup@gmail.com.

By Abdulsalam Alkali

Haruna Muhammad, known on the streets of Maiduguri as ‘ABALE BORNO’, had always chased greener pastures. His journey from his hometown to the bustling Nigerian capital, Abuja, was a familiar blur of hope and hardship. For a long time, he sold apples on Abuja’s streets, dreaming of the day he could return home to his mother and family.

When the month of Ramadan arrived, Abale felt a pull stronger than any market stall could offer. “I travelled from Abuja to Maiduguri, my heart light with the thought of sharing Eid al-Fitr with my loved ones. The journey was long, but the anticipation of reunion kept my spirits high”. Abale recounted with tears.

Back in Maiduguri, Abale slipped into his usual routine, posting short videos on TikTok. ‘’I voiced out my neighbourhood’s frustrations over an unfinished road project and the dilapidated Wadiya Primary School in Gomari Kostin’’ Abale stated. Residents slogging through potholes and the school’s crumbling walls quickly garnered attention.

One morning, seeking a quieter spot to rest during the Ramadan fast, Abale spread his mat under a lone tree inside the school, where he had earlier raised concerns about its dilapidated condition, offering some respite to the neighbourhood. As he lay there, three men approached—a Civilian Joint Task Force member and two policemen in traditional kaftans. “I felt relaxed even after seeing them, as I never thought the videos I made could trigger such a response from security,” Abale recounted.

While in Police Custody

“I was sceptical and confused about my arrest. I was first taken to the G.R.A Police Station, where I was temporarily detained until the Commissioner of Police, now-retired Yusuf Muhammad Lawan, arrived and ordered my transfer to the CRACK Division’’ Abale stated. Crack Division of the Nigeria Police is a unit specialised in tackling armed robbery, theft, and other capital offences.

“While in custody, I was denied access to my phone. I begged the policeman at the counter to help inform my mother. He agreed but charged one thousand naira for a call that lasted less than a minute,” Abale recalled.

At the CRACK Division, “I was informed that my offence was criticising the state government on TikTok, and I was arrested by ‘orders from above.’ There was no proper explanation. I was subjected to a thorough interrogation by scores of policemen, all asking the same question repeatedly: ‘Who is sponsoring you to attack the government?’ They took my phone, tripod, and microphone, searched them, but found nothing. The disappointment on their faces was visible,” he stated.

Abale recalled being treated like a criminal for expressing his community’s frustrations. “A policeman threatened my mother, telling her I was a criminal who would be jailed for no less than 20 years.” He was held for six days, despite laws requiring that an accused person be charged in court within 24 hours, or 48 hours if no court is within proximity, as stipulated by section 35 of the Nigerian Constitution. 

Abale had not initially engaged legal services. “However, a human rights lawyer, Hamza Nuhu Dantani, came to me. He was God-sent.” Abale stated

The Court Case

Abale was charged at Magistrate Court Number 2, popularly known as ‘Koton Madam,’ in Maiduguri. However, the court was in recess, and the case was referred to another magistrate. “The court found no significant reason for my arbitrary detention, and I was released,” Abale said.

Legal Struggle

After his bail was granted, Abale returned to Abuja to recover from the losses and expenses caused by his detention. However, the case was continuously adjourned. “I travelled from Abuja to Maiduguri three times to seek justice and retrieve my gadgets—two phones, pods, and a microphone—but to no avail. There was no conviction, no acquittal. The case was swept under the carpet,” he lamented.

Violations Continued

Suleiman Usman, 26, known as Sultan, was arrested and detained for three days simply for disagreeing with a public office holder on Facebook. “Even after promising my lawyer, I would be released within 24 hours, I spent three days in the cell,” Sultan recounted.

He was arrested after criticising the Executive Secretary of the Borno State Geographic and Information Service on Facebook. “The complainant insisted it amounted to criminal defamation, even though there was no proof. My words were harmless,” Sultan stated. After three days in the CRACK Division, he was released unconditionally.

Similarly, Alhassan Musa, 40, a father of nine, was arrested and detained for five weeks on the orders of Governor Babagana Zulum. “I was carrying passengers near the newly built flyover bridge in Bolori Store when a white Hilux vehicle drove into our way. It was Governor Zulum. He immediately ordered the police to arrest me,” Alhassan stated.

Detained at the CRACK Division for what was clearly a civil matter, Alhassan was repeatedly refused bail. Without formal charges, and only after his lawyer’s intervention, he paid N100,000 to the Borno State Traffic Maintenance Agency (BOTMA) for a traffic violation. “Five weeks of detention went under the carpet, unexplained,” he said.

Amnesty International Nigeria

In August 2025, Amnesty International Nigeria raised concerns over allegations of human rights violations by the Borno State government. “Borno, based on our initial findings, is increasingly becoming a bastion of repression, abuse of office, and unlawful attacks on the right of the people to disagree with those in power. People have the right to agree and disagree with those in power,” the statement read.

It further attests, “People who criticise the governor are being arbitrarily arrested and detained for months or more, without trial or access to a lawyer or family. A detention centre run by the police has now become a den of unlawful detention and ill-treatment. Some are even refused bail in utter disregard for due process.”

The statement was necessitated by the sentencing of five young people to five years imprisonment for organising and participating in an #EndBadGovernance protest.  Efforts to locate them proved abortive, but a relative of one of the sentenced individuals, who chose to remain anonymous, confirmed ‘’they are still in Maiduguri Maximum Correctional Centre”.

Similarly, Ibrahim Muhammad of the National Human Rights Commission in Maiduguri acknowledged the commission’s awareness of such claims but clarified its role. “We must receive a formal complaint, either in person or through other means of communication, before we can act. We have established protocols, and no violation has been officially reported to us,” he stated.

The Borno State Police Public Relations Officer, ASP Nahun Kenneth Daso, declined to comment, insisting on a physical meeting. However, he neither picked up calls nor replied to messages at the appointed time.

What the Law Says

According to lawyer Barr. Alkali Adamu Askira, “No individual, whether a governor or anyone acting under his authority, has the power to arrest and detain any person beyond the constitutionally permitted period of 24 hours, or at most 48 hours where applicable, without either granting bail or arraigning the person before a court of competent jurisdiction.” He further clarified, “Any directive or action that results in unnecessary arrest or prolonged detention outside these legal limits constitutes a gross abuse of power and an act of lawlessness.”

Barr. Askira noted that the remedy is to file fundamental human rights enforcement suits. “Otherwise, we will have rights we cannot enforce,” he stated.

Commenting on Abale and Sultan’s detention, human rights lawyer Barr. Hamza Nuhu Dantani said, “Abale and Sultan’s cases exemplify the endemic abuse of power, suppression, and denial of access to justice by people in authority.” He advised, “Security agencies should respect the rights to freedom of expression,” and urged public office holders to “refrain from using their office to oppress citizens. 

By Muhammad Sulaiman

Tensions erupted at the Bariki Market in Enugu State when a group of Igbo butchers reportedly confronted and attacked their Hausa counterparts over a disagreement tied to meat prices.

According to eyewitnesses, the incident began when Hausa butchers allegedly sold their meat at lower prices, a move that some Igbo traders viewed as undercutting the market. The disagreement escalated into a physical altercation, resulting in injuries and disruption of business activities in the area.

Observers have noted that Igbo traders operate freely across markets in Kano and other parts of northern Nigeria, with no reports of similar incidents. Some commentators expressed concern that the Enugu clash had not received widespread media attention, suggesting that the coverage might have been more prominent had the situation been reversed. However, a video clip of the clashes has been widely shared on social media in Northern Nigeria.

There are also concerns that, in other contexts, such disputes risk being misrepresented as ethnic or communal violence, further heightening tensions.

Market authorities and local security agencies are yet to issue an official statement on the incident.

By Isyaka Laminu Badamasi

It is becoming glaring that the Federal Government is taking Nigerians for granted. A few months back, we were all here condemning the new tax reform introduced by the APC administration led by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu, a reform whose implications will be deeply felt by Nigerians, especially the downtrodden.

Though some analysts and experts argue that the new tax reform is the right step, particularly for an economy whose revenue depends almost 70% on crude oil, my little contribution to the debate is not to analyse the reform or weigh its positive and negative impacts on our well-being. Rather, it is to raise a few critical questions arising from my thoughts on the matter at hand.

My concern is specifically about content creators who were engaged to sensitise Nigerians on the new bill—a development that sparked another debate, one that again exposed our disunity as a people and our lack of seriousness about matters of national importance and those inimical to our well-being. Nigerians, especially Northerners, instead of examining the bill and preparing for constructive criticism, began complaining that none of the selected content creators was from the core North. As if having a core Northern content creator in the sensitisation team would somehow change or reduce the taxes that will eventually be imposed on core Northerners.

With or without any sensitisation or awareness campaign, the new tax reform has come to stay. Regardless of how people accept or reject it, it will be implemented as planned. The content creators engaged by the government may not even understand the policy themselves, let alone be able to sensitise the public properly.

For me, therefore, this entire conversation about the “selection of content creators” is unnecessary. To my understanding, it was technically designed to divert Nigerians’ attention. Instead of focusing on constructive criticism of this inhumane policy, we have been pushed into arguing over who should be involved, when, and how—a distraction that does not help an already fragmented country.

Let us not forget that we are in 2025, in the 21st century—111 years as an amalgamated entity and 65 years as an independent nation, with more than two and a half decades of an uninterrupted democratic dispensation. It is high time we appreciate our togetherness despite the odds and chart a path toward unity. This is especially crucial at this moment, when we are facing serious and multidimensional security challenges, particularly here in the North, ravaged by bandits, insurgents, and kidnappers, with pockets of ethnic and religious conflicts here and there. Do we so easily forget that Nigeria was once declared a “country of particular concern” by the US President, Donald Trump?

It is important for policymakers and implementers to avoid introducing issues that, instead of fostering peaceful coexistence, end up dividing us. Meanwhile, those in positions of authority continue siphoning our meagre resources—resources that have failed to address our critical challenges in health, education, security, and other essential sectors.

On the issue of not engaging or selecting content creators from the core North for this “all-important” sensitisation campaign, the situation is both baffling and questionable. It is strange that the PR unit of the FIRS/FGN did not consider the three major languages—Hausa, Igbo, and Yoruba—alongside English, our official language, as part of their information-dissemination strategy. However, it is still not too late to make corrections.

Whatever the reasons may be, Nigerians—regardless of region or religion—should prepare themselves, as the policy will take effect come January 2026.

Isyaka Laminu Badamasi wrote via makwalla82@gmail.com.

By Wathrayel Bassi Amos‎‎‎

Social media was once celebrated as a force for empowerment, creativity, and free expression. Yet beneath that promise lies a sophisticated system—the algorithm—engineered to keep users endlessly engaged. This unseen mechanism values attention over awareness, pushing content that evokes the strongest emotions: anger, envy, or desire. In today’s digital landscape, shock value has become the new form of currency. The more sensational the content, the greater its reach.‎‎

The algorithm, devoid of moral judgment, amplifies whatever sustains attention the longest—even when it undermines social values. From sexually suggestive dance trends to prank videos glorifying deceit, the boundary between entertainment and immorality grows increasingly faint.

Traditional moral guides—parents, teachers, and religious leaders—now struggle to rival platforms that reward sensationalism over substance. Never has indecency been so readily available, flooding timelines without consent. Some entertainers even release explicit material intentionally, using controversy as a marketing tool. In this new age, modesty has lost its worth, while moral decay is repackaged as strategy.

‎‎Cultural and religious voices continue to warn against this decline. They decry how virtues like humility, discipline, and community spirit are being replaced by an obsession with digital recognition. Success is now measured not by integrity but by influence—the size of one’s following. This transformation goes beyond behavior; it is reshaping the psyche of the youth, cutting them off from the moral and cultural foundations that once defined Nigerian identity.‎‎

The dominance of globalized online content represents a quieter form of cultural colonization. Though Nigeria is politically free, its digital life remains governed by algorithms designed abroad—systems detached from local values. These digital gatekeepers decide what trends, what sells, and what the public sees. Some nations, like China, have moved to restrict foreign platforms to safeguard their moral and cultural integrity.‎‎

Nigeria’s youth—the nation’s largest population segment—now grow up in virtual spaces where moral responsibility is optional and validation is everything. Many define themselves not by character, empathy, or contribution, but by the currency of likes, followers, and views. Digital popularity has replaced moral virtue as the new standard of worth.

‎‎To secure its future, Nigeria must reshape its digital culture around responsibility rather than recklessness. Social media should serve as a platform for enlightenment, not erosion—a space that uplifts intellect instead of promoting indecency. The internet must return to its true purpose: a marketplace of ideas, not a stage for moral decline.‎‎

Wathrayel Bassi Amos wrote from the Department of Mass Communication, University of Maiduguri. ‎

By Hadiza Abdulkadir

Influencers in China will now need to hold a university degree or relevant professional qualifications before discussing serious topics such as medicine, law, education, or finance online, according to new regulations aimed at curbing misinformation.

The policy, announced by Chinese authorities this week, requires prominent online personalities — particularly those with over one million followers — to provide proof of their expertise. Those who fail to comply risk fines of up to ¥100,000 (about $14,000).

Officials say the move is designed to tackle the growing problem of false information and deceptive advertising, especially in areas such as fake medical treatments and supplements that have proliferated on social media.

While supporters argue the measure will help protect the public from misleading content, critics warn it could tighten state control over online speech and limit discussions on critical social issues.

The new rules mark another step in China’s ongoing campaign to regulate its vast and influential online ecosystem, emphasising “professional responsibility” and “accuracy” in digital communication.

By Muhammad Sulaiman

The Nigeria Customs Service (NCS) has dismissed as false a viral social media post claiming to reveal the number of shortlisted candidates per state for the final stage of its 2025 recruitment exercise.

In a public disclaimer, the Service clarified that the publication did not originate from any of its official communication channels and urged the public, especially applicants, to disregard the information entirely.

According to the NCS, the ongoing recruitment process began with an official advertisement on December 27, 2024, attracting a total of 573,523 applications across the Superintendent, Inspectorate, and Customs Assistant cadres. After an initial documentary screening, 286,697 candidates were shortlisted for the first phase of the Computer-Based Test (CBT).

The Service further explained that while all cadres took part in the CBT, only successful applicants under the Superintendent Cadre were invited for the second phase, which will be conducted across the six geopolitical zones in line with candidates’ states of origin.

The NCS reaffirmed its commitment to a transparent, fair, and merit-driven recruitment process, in accordance with the Federal Character principle. It also advised applicants to rely solely on official updates via the NCS Recruitment Update Portal at https://updates.customs.gov.ng for verified information.

By Abba Murtala

In Northern Nigeria today—from Kano to Katsina, Kaduna to Abuja, Gombe to Adamawa and beyond—prostitution is being redefined, repackaged, and repurposed in ways our society is yet to grasp or confront fully. Once seen as an explicit, stigmatised trade practised by women living in brothels or in the fringes of urban society, prostitution has now assumed a form that is more discreet, deceptive, and dangerously normalised.

The new face of prostitution no longer resides in dingy motels or poorly lit street corners. She may very well be your neighbour’s daughter or your daughter, your cousin, your niece, or even your girlfriend (wives, too, have been reported). She lives at home, speaks decently, dresses modestly in public, attends school or has a small job, and blends perfectly into her conservative community. Yet, she is actively engaged in transactional sex.

This new wave of commercial sex work is cloaked in deception. Unlike the “traditional” prostitutes who often migrated far from their family homes to avoid shame and suspicion, these girls remain within the comfort of their homes. The family remains unsuspecting; society remains blind. They are not seen as sex workers, and they don’t identify as such. But the reality is, they sell their bodies to men—usually for money, phones, rent, trips, and more.

Who Are the Clients?

They are not their peers. Young men, even those with questionable morals, typically frown at paying for sex, especially with women their own age, especially since there is the looming risk of exposure. The real clients, therefore, are middle-aged and elderly men—the “uncles.” These men, often above 50, use their financial power to exploit vulnerable young girls. Many are married, influential, and sometimes respected members of the community. They book hotels, arrange flights, and fund the lavish lifestyles of these girls, all in exchange for sexual gratification.

They are the shameless engines driving this trade, creating demand and sustaining the illusion. They are the reason a girl from a struggling family can suddenly afford the latest iPhone, expensive clothes, designer handbags, and weekend trips to Lagos, Abuja or Dubai.

How Does It Happen?

It starts with a desire—often triggered by poverty, peer pressure, or social media fantasies. The girl feels a pressing need for money, attention, and a lifestyle far beyond her family’s means. She may resist menial jobs or honest work, not because she is lazy, but because those options won’t fetch her the quick cash she believes she deserves.

Then comes the network. A friend introduces her to someone. A “pimp”—male or female—slides into her DM. The network is simple but effective—a few conversations, a meeting, a test run. Then the money starts flowing. Once she gains footing, she establishes a base of loyal clients—uncles who can be called upon for any service, at any time, for the right price.

Her life becomes a web of deception. School hours, “friend visits,” or supposed job responsibilities become covers for interstate flights, secret hotel bookings, and clandestine transactions. The richest among them reportedly offer services like anal sex, which are in high demand by some of these predators.

Who Are These Girls?

They are typically from low-income or struggling homes. They reject being categorised as “poor” in public, and they will go to great lengths to appear middle-class or affluent. Many of their families are unaware. In some extreme cases, parents even give silent consent, as long as the money keeps flowing home.

Their greatest assets? Physical beauty, curvy figures, and the naivety that predators exploit. These girls have no business with brothels or street corners. They have gone digital. They operate through WhatsApp groups, TikTok algorithms, and private Facebook pages. With just a few clicks, they are matched with high-paying clients—sometimes in entirely different states.

Why Poverty Is Not an Excuse

Many will point fingers at poverty. But we must be careful not to romanticise or rationalise prostitution as a legitimate response to hardship. Poverty is real, yes—but so is integrity. There are girls in the same communities who, despite hunger and hardship, have chosen honest paths. They work as waitresses, hairdressers, salesgirls, and tutors. They manage small businesses, survive on tight budgets, and still hold their heads high.

Prostitution, especially in this form, is not a product of poverty alone—it is often a product of greed, laziness, entitlement, and a corrupt value system. The growing belief that one must “look rich” or “live big” regardless of how the money is made is at the core of this moral collapse.

Religious warnings are being ignored. Even when confronted, some girls say, “Allah will forgive.” But repentance requires remorse and a firm commitment to change—not a continuous indulgence in sin while hiding behind religious phrases.

The Role of Social Media

Social media is a major culprit. The platforms intended to connect and educate have become virtual marketplaces for the flesh trade. TikTok glorifies vanity, consumerism, and “soft life” narratives. WhatsApp becomes the digital brothel where clients and sex workers finalise deals. Facebook hosts secret groups where sex work is promoted in coded language.

The constant bombardment of luxury lifestyles, body flaunting, and materialism fosters insecurity and desperation among impressionable girls. The result? An endless race to fake perfection—even if it means trading dignity for money.

The Damaging Effects

 • On Families: Many families remain oblivious, and by the time they discover the truth, the damage is irreversible. Reputations are destroyed. Trust is lost.

 • On Society: The normalisation of secret prostitution threatens the very foundation of our cultural and moral values. When immorality becomes invisible, it becomes unstoppable.

 • On Marriages: This trend contributes to rising distrust in relationships and marriages. Husbands are becoming suspicious, wives are growing insecure, and divorce rates are climbing.

 • On Public Health: Increased sexual activity with multiple partners, often without protection, raises the risk of STDs, including HIV/AIDS. Yet, this danger is seldom discussed.

 • On Religion: The erosion of fear of Allah and the disregard for Islamic teachings show how deep this problem runs.

Critical Questions We Must Ask

 • How did we get here?

 • Who failed our girls—parents, clerics, or the government?

 • Why is society silent?

 • What kind of men are sleeping with girls young enough to be their granddaughters?

 • Will we allow another generation to grow up in a society that calls evil “smartness” and shamelessness “hustle”?

Final Warning

This is not a rant. It is a wake-up call. What we are witnessing is not just immorality—it is moral suicide. If we continue to ignore this, we risk raising a generation that believes fornication is business, pimps are mentors, and prostitution is hustle.

Let the uncles be warned: your lust is destroying the daughters of the land. Let the girls know: no amount of iPhones or Dubai trips will cleanse the burden of shame you’re carrying. And let the parents rise: your silence is no longer innocent—it is complicity.

May Allah guide us all, amin.

Abba Murtala, FCH DK, wrote from Gombe via abbamurtala8@gmail.com.

By Haroon Aremu Abiodun

It all began like any other viral moment on Nigerian social media, but then it took a turn. Popular TikTok sensation Hamzat Habeeb Adelaja, popularly known as Peller, shocked followers recently with a post that seemed almost too generous to be true. He was hiring a cameraman for a monthly salary of ₦500,000. The news spread like wildfire, and in no time, graduates, yes, university graduates, trooped in for interviews, hoping to clinch the role under the young entertainer’s banner.

But beneath the glitz of that social media post lies a stark irony, a brutal reflection of Nigeria’s current socioeconomic reality: a secondary school certificate holder interviewing degree holders for a position in the gig economy. Is this a triumph of hustle over education or a symptom of a failing system?

This scenario has ignited widespread controversy. Should someone with Peller’s academic background employ graduates? Is he flaunting success in a way that undermines the value of formal education? Or is he, in his own unorthodox way, contributing to job creation in a country where unemployment is a ticking time bomb?

Regardless of where you stand, one truth remains: Nigeria’s youths are not only unemployed, they are disillusioned.

But, beneath the glamour, is Peller’s youth the key to his controversial rise? At age 20, can Peller truly shoulder the weight of fame, fortune, and the emotional toll that comes with being in the public eye? Fame is a double-edged sword, and wealth earned in the public space, especially in a country like Nigeria, where social values matter, can either elevate or destroy a brand.

Some have attributed his behaviour to immaturity, a lack of exposure, or poor guidance. Others question the roles played by his management and inner circle. Are they enabling his excesses or helping him stay grounded?

Peller’s youth and maturity seem to be dancing to different tunes at times in sync, at other moments, sharply distinct. While his age brings the energy, creativity, and audacity that fuel his rise, it may also limit the depth of judgment that comes with lived experience. Despite his fame and financial success, one thing remains true: maturity isn’t measured by wealth or followers. 

He may be richer or more popular than his advisers, but that doesn’t make guidance obsolete. In fact, the higher one climbs, the more essential wise counsel becomes. No matter our age or status, we all need mentors, correction, and continued learning because growth, like fame, should never outpace wisdom.

This is not Peller’s first brush with public criticism. During the heated JAMB controversy months ago, he was branded a poor role model. Critics say he misuses his influence. Admirers say he is just being himself. But the question is not just what Peller does, it’s what he represents.

When individuals like Peller become the aspiration of thousands of young people, what message are we sending? That fame, regardless of how it’s earned, trumps knowledge, experience, and decorum?

One might ask, is this a systemic failure or a personal flaw? But the deeper question is this: Can we really blame Peller for being a product of a broken system? Or should we point fingers at the society that created him, a society where education is devalued and unemployment drives graduates to accept roles from entertainers with no formal qualifications?

This is a national dilemma. Young people are no longer looking to engineers, doctors, or scholars as role models. They now look to influencers, many of whom may lack the maturity or training to handle such responsibility.

This isn’t just about Peller; it’s about perception, power, and public influence.

The Brand at Risk: PR Implications

From a public relations perspective, Peller’s every move is now under a magnifying glass. As a brand, his current trajectory presents both opportunity and risk. He is loved by many but also watched with scrutiny by an equal number. His brand power lies in his authenticity, but even that must be managed with intentionality because one viral moment can either grow his brand or ruin it.

In a society where cultural norms still dictate public perception, Peller must understand that his brand isn’t just about content; it’s about conduct. His platform gives him power, and with that comes responsibility.

PR experts warn that failing to manage this carefully could result in brand erosion, reduced partnerships, and a gradual loss of public trust. A sustainable career in entertainment requires more than charisma—it demands discipline.

Beyond the Buzz: What should Peller do? It’s easy to dismiss these concerns as envy or moral policing, but that would be a mistake. Peller is a Nigerian pride, a self-made entertainer who carved a niche and created employment. That in itself is commendable. But with influence comes expectation. With status comes scrutiny.

This article is not to tear Peller down. It is to offer a lens of accountability, reflection, and growth. The same media that celebrates must also question, not out of hate, but out of hope that Nigeria’s influencers will see themselves not just as entertainers, but as leaders in a generation gasping for direction.

Peller can choose to be more. He can use his platform to elevate the values of integrity, hard work, and education, even as he continues to thrive in entertainment. He can show that success does not require disrespect, and that influence is not a license for irresponsibility.

Whether he likes it or not, Peller is not just a content creator. He’s a movement. And movements, when misdirected, can lose their magic or worse, mislead millions.

Final Thought

Peller’s story is still unfolding. He is talented, young, and full of potential. This is not a final verdict, but a cautionary tale. The camera is rolling, the nation is watching.

The real question is: What will Peller do next?

Haroon Aremu Abiodun, An Author, public Affairs Analyst. He wrote in via exponentumera@gmail.com