By ANIETIE UDOBIT, ABUJA
The 2026 Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) Annual General Conference in Port Harcourt will long be remembered not for the technical legal papers presented, but for the storm generated by a single non-lawyer invitee. The presence of social media activist Martins Vincent Otse, popularly known as VeryDarkMan (VDM), as a security panelist and award recipient has exposed a profound ideological rift within Nigeria’s legal elite and the public.
To many ordinary Nigerians, VDM’s appearance was a breath of fresh air. Speaking on the plenary panel titled “Known Gunmen,” the activist did what few elites dare to do: he looked security chiefs in the eye and accused corrupt elements within their ranks of enabling the country’s kidnap-for-ransom syndicates. His unfiltered feedback hit a nerve, forcing the Nigeria Police Force to immediately open an investigation into his claims. For his supporters, this is justice in its rawest, most functional form—disruptive, immediate, and accessible to the grassroots.
Grow your business with us
However, within the bar, the reaction has been one of deep anxiety and fierce criticism. Senior Advocate of Nigeria, Femi Falana, leading a chorus of worried practitioners, openly lamented the “carnival-like” direction of the conference. Critics argue that by handing its platform and a special recognition award to a digital creator known for aggressive public commentary, the Mazi Afam Osigwe-led NBA leadership has sacrificed professional standards on the altar of internet clout.
This tension raises a fundamental historical question: Have non-lawyers always been a part of Nigeria’s legal evolution?
The answer is yes, but the criteria for their inclusion has fundamentally changed. During the mid-to-late 20th century, an era dominated by legal titans like Sir Udo Udoma, the NBA regularly threw its doors open to non-lawyers. Sir Udo Udoma, a towering intellectual who served as the Chief Justice of Uganda and a Justice of Nigeria’s Supreme Court, operated in a system where legal discourse was enriched by multidisciplinary experts. In those days, non-lawyer invitees were world-class sociologists, economic planners, medical authorities, and veteran statesmen. They were invited to provide structured, empirical data to help lawyers shape public policy.
The contrast between the Udoma era and the 2026 conference highlights the core of the current crisis. The issue is not that VDM is a non-lawyer; it is that his currency is digital populism, not institutional expertise.
For Nigeria, this shift represents a democratization of public grievance. Citizens have grown weary of slow-moving courts and polished, polite legal seminars that yield few real-world results. They prefer the instant accountability of digital activism.
For the legal profession, however, it is an identity crisis. If the NBA continues down this path, it risks morphing from an elite intellectual guild into a populist arena.
While VDM’s disruptive methods have successfully forced a bureaucratic police force to react, the long-term survival of Nigeria’s justice system cannot rely on social media trends.
As the dust settles on Port Harcourt 2026, the legal community must find a way to bridge this gap. The Bar must remain open to the raw realities of the Nigerian people, but it must do so without losing the intellectual rigor, decorum, and structural excellence that leaders like Sir Udo Udoma spent their entire lives building.
About The Author