Nigeria’s social media scene is the fastest growing on the continent. Nigerians, like their global counterparts, have built digital empires, made money online, shared their artistic endeavours and reached wide audiences on several platforms. They start conversations, set trends, build communities, teach, market, collaborate, tell stories, highlight culture, support people, entertain, try out new ideas, shape opinions, and turn their visibility into money-making opportunities. While many create or follow content, a smaller group of influential figures shape conversations, trends, and opinions online. But if there is one thing they lack, it’s accountability.
In December 2025, popular TikToker Habeeb Hamzat, known as Peller, was arrested for attempted suicide and reckless driving that ended in a serious crash during a live stream. Reports have it that Peller crashed his car on purpose after his girlfriend, another TikToker, broke up with him, and the suicidal attempt was not genuine but for clout. The video quickly went viral, with many Nigerians calling for his immediate arrest. Within days, the Lagos State Police Command issued a statement promising a public investigation and prosecution of the Tiktoker.
Another similar case happened in November 2025, when Twitch streamer Shank Comics crashed his car live on stream. In the video, which resurfaced in March 2026, he is shown speeding before losing control and hitting a roadblock. Shank, seeing the outrage online, said the crash was part of a paid plot against him, which made people skeptical about his story and called for his arrest and cancellation. Both incidents became media controversies, but over time, the stories shifted to support the influencers, and calls for accountability faded. These two incidents involved road crimes and should have led to legal and social repercussions, as they recklessly endangered other road users .
This April, several fraud cases involving social media personalities have gone viral, exposing a pattern of popular people leveraging social media for personal gain and refusing to be held accountable. One such example is Twitter influencer and jersey merchant, Abazz, who was paid by Nigerian footballer Victor Osimhen, to give out custom jerseys to some X (Twitter) users but ended up sending low-quality jerseys. This sparked an outrage on X, as most people demanded accountability and criticized the dishonesty in how the influencer handled the distribution of the jerseys.
A similar pattern of exploiting public trust played out on a more emotional scale when self-acclaimed relationship expert Blessing Okoro, popularly known as Blessing CEO, was recently embroiled in a health crisis controversy after posting emotional videos in which she claimed to have been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. Following an outpouring of kindness from well meaning Nigerians, she raised about 13 million naira in donations. However, inconsistencies began to follow her claims, there were claims that she forged and used someone else’s test results as proof of ailment. She’d later claim it was a misunderstanding and insisted she owed no one an apology over the potential fraud, which led to more calls for an investigation and a wider debate about social media accountability and the spread of medical fraud on social media. The evidence, her claims, and testimonies from people who sent her money are all available online. People are calling for her arrest, alleging this action constitutes extortion and cybercrime under Nigerian law. Under Section 14 of the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015, any person who with intent to defraud sends electronic message, materially misrepresents any fact, or set of facts upon which reliance the recipient or another person is caused to suffer any damage or loss, commits an offence and shall be liable on conviction to imprisonment for a term of not less than 5 years and to a fine of not less than N10,000,000.00 or to both fine and imprisonment. Based on this legal provision, it can be argued that Blessing CEO’s actions constitute fraud against the public.
When action is not taken, popular figures become repeat offenders, with no fear of consequences. Some go as low as to objectify, body-shame, and normalize harmful ideas under the guise of content. Others use their platforms to promote unregulated or harmful products and questionable brands, prioritizing profit and controversy over followers’ trust. Without rules, these figures exploit their visibility for personal gain.
The root problem is that Nigeria’s social media has grown quickly but without any real legal guardrails for behaviour online. It’s now easy for people to gain trust and authority online without being accountable to anyone. The laws governing online behavior are weak or poorly implemented, and these platforms reward attention rather than accuracy.
Accountability needs to go beyond viral outrage or short-term reactions to crimes or misconduct by popular people. It must lead to real change. We need to do more than just criticize or temporarily withdraw support. Everyone should commit to consistently calling out harmful behavior, reporting it to authorities, and refusing support to those who do wrong.
The response by Nigerians to Naira Marley after Mohbad’s death is a good example of how to use social media to push for accountability. The ensuing backlash hurt his reputation, reduced his streams, and affected some of his industry connections, showing that online communities can challenge power and demand accountability. Even though these moments seem powerful, social media cancellations rarely lead to lasting accountability. People forget, fans remain loyal, and there are often no real consequences. This also shows that social media outrage cannot stand-in for the law, at best, it can highlight problems, but rarely ever delivers real justice, reducing serious issues to just trends or gist.
Earlier this week, DJ Tunez and Burna Boy were seen in a viral video, involved in a physical altercation at a club, adding another layer to the ongoing conversation around accountability with popular people in Nigeria. In a follow-up clip that circulated widely, Burna Boy appeared to openly acknowledge the assault. This is not the first time Burna Boy has been in the news over allegations of violent and erratic behavior, with past incidents like his alleged link to the 2017 assault of fellow artist Mr 2Kay and the 2022 Lagos Cubana nightclub shooting involving members of his entourage, as well as repeated reports of altercations and public feuds. Instead of sustained calls for accountability or legal repercussions for his actions, the narrative has quickly turned into fan wars, with supporters on both sides defending their preferred artist and turning real incidents into entertainment rather than matters that warrant scrutiny.
None of the crimes mentioned above have been fully prosecuted. Real accountability should come from formal institutions, like the police, Economic and Financial Crimes Commission for fraud, the Federal Road Safety Corps for traffic laws, the National Agency for Food and Drug Administration and Control for product regulation, and the Federal Competition and Consumer Protection Commission for consumer protection. But even with the presence of these institutions, enforcement is uneven, low-profile people are prosecuted as they should be when they commit crimes, but often scapegoated, while popular offenders are protected and, most of the time, avoid consequences.
The case of Anthony Joshua’s driver is a clear example of how accountability in high-profile incidents can quickly be used to scapegoat low-profile citizens. On December 29, 2025, a Lexus SUV driven by Adeniyi Mobolaji Kayode crashed into a stationary truck on the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway, killing two of Anthony Joshua’s close associates, while Joshua escaped with minor injuries. Kayode was subsequently charged on four counts, including dangerous driving causing death and driving without a valid licence.
However, the case is not as straightforward as the charges make it seem. Early investigations found that excessive speed and a burst tyre happened just before the crash, and Kayode’s family believes mechanical failure could have been a factor. These details make it hard to blame just one person. Some critics have also questioned the overall safety of the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway, which is known for poor enforcement and dangers like parked trucks in active lanes. Still, because the case is high-profile, most of the public focus has stayed on the driver, making a complex situation seem like only one person’s fault, even though the legal process is still ongoing.
This brings up an important question: who should be responsible for ensuring real accountability? Oftentimes, people and groups don’t take formal action because they lack resources, don’t know how, fear backlash, or don’t trust the system. As a result, people bring problems online, and outrage stands in for justice. When no one is legally accountable, fraud, misinformation, and various forms of crime become normal because no one challenges them where it really matters. For accountability to move beyond what it is today, advocacy groups, NGOs, and law enforcement organizations must bridge the gap between social media outrage and formal institutional action. Turning online evidence into formal complaints and sustained petitions is necessary, but without collective effort beyond online reactions, true accountability will remain the same.
Real accountability starts with strong institutions acting independently and knowing how to apply penalties without constant public prompt. Social media still matters, but it should be used to support legal action and keep the issue in the public eye, not to replace proper legal steps. Most importantly, accountability depends on follow-up, tracking cases, asking for updates, and not letting issues disappear with the next news story. This is where legal advocates, journalists, and civil society play a key role, keeping up the pressure, helping victims navigate the system, and ensuring public attention leads to real consequences.
And for accountability to matter, the rules must be the same for everyone, whether they are famous or not. This means not just changing how institutions act, but also how Nigerians respond. It’s not enough to collect evidence, post threads, or demand justice online; people must report offenders, follow up on cases, and use the system to achieve real results. If we only cancel people online, we are not truly holding them accountable—we are just taking part in a cycle of attention and outrage without real action.
