Somewhere in some corner of Africa or its diaspora, people are hunched over their phones watching Nigerian journalist David Hundeyin fight another person over their connections with Western imperialism. Last week, it was one target, and the week before it was someone else. The show ends as it always does nowadays. Don’t forget to like, comment, follow, quote, repost, and subscribe, we are told.

Despite the obvious clicktivist hue, there is a genuine energy around Hundeyin. You can feel it in the bants and clap-backs. The feeling goes something like, “Finally, here is someone telling the truth about the empire.” At least, that was how I felt when I read his Cornflakes for Jihad exposé four years ago. If my memory serves me right, I must have sent him a private message on his social media appreciating him and offering to support the kind of work he does in any way possible. I saw someone who could not be bought, who could not be silenced, who named names and backed it up with documents. I did not just follow him on social media; it was as if I became the follower of a modern-day prophet.

It took a while before I noticed my own uneasiness about the cycles of performative outrage that surrounded David Hundeyin’s posts. At first, I thought my discomfort was due to the (sometimes cruel) manner in which he treated anyone critical of him. As time went on, I became more conscious of our growing differences of opinion across a range of subjects, but I could not pinpoint the crux of my distress. Was it his support for postponing elections in Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger? His support of the strident antiunion posture adopted in Dangote’s new refinery? His support of Putin and campaign for a military dictatorship in Nigeria? His sudden turn in favor of Goodluck Jonathan’s policies? His uncritical adulation at the emergence of the arch-neoliberal pied-piper of Nigeria’s youth, Peter Obi? His constant condescending and elitist rants about how Nigerians are not intelligent or capable of any intellection?

For my sins, none of these issues seemed to mark the decisive breaking point in my tolerance for David Hundeyin. What finally did it was my realization that the problem with David Hundeyin and others like him, was structural. I found that my problem was not mainly about his personality or his political opinions, but about what happens after each of his posts. The problem was not the messenger but its reception. The task therefore is not to “cancel” him but to understand the social reality he reflects.

There are two ways to talk about David Hundeyin on social media today, and I have been in both camps (before I got blocked like almost every other commentator that offers a criticism of his opinion). As stated, I was once in the camp of those who regard Hundeyin as a fearless truth teller who is holding the empire accountable, and scaring the establishment. I have also been in the other camp of those who find him to be a reckless and sensationalist journalist —a loose cannon that cannot do the real work of journalism that builds trust. Both sides agree on one thing—David Hundeyin is outside the establishment, and the debate between both camps is often whether his outsider methods are brave and effective or irresponsible. What if this agreement is wrong? What if David Hundeyin was never outside? What if he is not opposing the system but playing a role within the it?

Making these inquiries of myself has led me to a realization that once observed is difficult to unsee. David Hundeyin is not an outsider opposing the establishment; he is instead the establishment’s loudest gatekeeper. He talks like he is against powerful elites and empires, but his real role is to attract people’s genuine anger and resistance and then confuse and waste that energy in loud fights with the same people and institutions. Without evidence, one cannot say that David Hundeyin is a false prophet in the sense of a grifter, a con artist, or a deliberate agent of one or the other side of imperialism. That will be too simple, too conspiratorial, too focused on individual intent rather than structural function. Hundeyin may well believe everything he says. His investigations may contain new facts. His outrage may be genuine. But none of that matters. What matters is where the energy flows. What matters is that the system, the empire, the establishment, the network of power he spends his days attacking, does not collapse when he fights it. Instead, it shines brighter. It gets louder and more dramatic. It turns the conflict into a show.

In this light, he can be seen as something of a court jester. In medieval courts, the jester was the only one who could mock the king, because the jester’s mockery served a function. It provided a controlled release valve for dissent that reinforces rather than undermines the court’s structure. He does not create any real independent power. Instead, he takes people’s anger, turns it into dramatic battles, mixes in some contradictory political commitments, and then profits from the public watching it unfold.

David Hundeyin is not a false prophet of anti-imperialism but an attractor and dissipator of anti-imperialist energy. In physics, an attractor is a point that a system tends to move toward. A pendulum swings until it settles at its lowest point—that point is an attractor. A false attractor is different. It feels like a destination. But when you reach it, in this case, you discover you are still inside the system you thought you were leaving. He could even be the sincerest revolutionary on the continent, but the establishment, which includes the monetized algorithm and its clickbait logic, would still use him as a gatekeeper to direct people’s energy into fights that never move beyond the control and pull of the empire. He occupies the position of the most useful critic of Western imperialism in Nigeria.

An average David Hundeyin follower has a villain—an LGBTQ person, Western-funded NGOs, Omoyele Sowore, paid influencers, BBC, and, notably, the CIA —all of whom Hundeyin valiantly investigates and exposes for the audience to learn about. (“I mean, has no one noticed that AIAC is actually CIA spelled backwards with an extra “A” thrown in to confuse unwitting saps? Use your brains people!”)  Outrage builds. Good guys versus bad guys. The battle line is neatly drawn. Such simplicity is seductively comforting in a very confusing world, but to stay simple, Hundeyin has to leave out all the crucial details that can point to the way forward. These details left out makes it possible to recycle the anger back into the establishment. The anger at the West leaves out any serious analyses of imperialism and recycles the anger into Russian or Chinese imperialism. The anger at President Tinubu leaves out any serious analysis of neoliberal dictatorship and recycles that anger into supporting Peter Obi or Goodluck Jonathan, who share the same neoliberal policies, or into supporting Captain Traoré, whose dictatorship is also silencing dissenting voices. The anger at public corruption leaves out any serious analyses of privatization or the contract system and redirects the anger into the call for Nigeria’s top monopolist Dangote to privately take over petroleum production in Nigeria.

True. The institutional establishment comprises the US State Department, the World Bank and IMF, the Ford Foundation, etc., whose authority is built into the structure of the global system. These institutions have power whether anyone likes them or not. They don’t have to be popular. They just have to be official. But this is not the only establishment. There is also a populist establishment. That’s where far-right politicians like Donald Trump and Putin are positioned. That’s where far-right billionaires like Elon Musk and Peter Thiel are positioned. Their power comes from mass popularity and anti-establishment rhetoric, even when their power to achieve that comes from a direct dependence on establishment structures and institutions. This is the reason why Donald Trump and Elon Musk both own social media platforms and actively use these platforms to push a political or business agenda that stays within the limits of the establishment in each case. Hundeyin’s role is limited to staying popular, even if that will be earned from controversies. From the posts on X to subscriptions on Substack, the popularity that David Hundeyin gets stays within these limits of the establishment.

Hundeyin’s brand is built on exposing the BBC’s failures in Africa, US foreign policy manipulation, or NGO funding of “civil society” groups that undermine real resistance. Without these targets, what would Hundeyin investigate? His content is defined by them. They are the villains in every story. It is worth noting that investigative journalism needs targets, but here the establishment is not just the enemy; it is his subject matter. Remove the establishment, and there is no story to tell. There is no alternative to build. There is no solution to provide.

In this respect, it is instructive to consider Hundeyin’s recent attacks on Omoyele Sowore—and his insistence that Sowore’s acceptance of NGO funding reveals him to be a foreign asset. Full disclosure: I have written opinion articles similar to the current one about Sowore in the past, similarly critiquing his construction of a one-man show, while acknowledging the political innovations of the movement around Omoyele Sowore. Yet I am struck by the way in which Hundeyin’s latest target seems to reinforce his position as a figure in the Nigerian populist establishment. Those accusations of Sowore serve the function of distinguishing Hundeyin from another populist figure and positioning him as the pure outsider—the one who hasn’t been co-opted. This is classic populist politics. You don’t just attack the establishment; you attack other populists who might compete for your audience’s attention. Such opponents are then unveiled as secretly part of the establishment. It’s a way to maintain your position as the one true voice.

The populist establishment are vectors of conflict, not bridges of peace. They facilitate conflict. They take information from the establishment (through investigations) and weaponize it for the public. They take energy from the public (anger, attention) and direct it back into the establishment. Without the establishment, Hundeyin has no targets. His content disappears. Without the public, he has no audience. His platform disappears. Without the conflict between them, he has no function. His role disappears. He is not trying to resolve or transcend the conflict. He is not trying to build a way out. He is sustaining the conflict, because the conflict is what gives him his position.

This is not the same as being part of the institutional establishment. He doesn’t take their money (openly). He doesn’t attend their meetings every time. He doesn’t play by their rules in any obvious way. But his position is structurally dependent on them. They are his foil. They are his subject. They are, in a strange way, his partner in an endless conflict. A genuine outsider, someone truly building an alternative, would not need the establishment at all. The establishment might try to stop them, but the establishment would not be the subject of their work… The subject would be the new thing they’re building. David Hundeyin is not pioneering any model media structure that does not replicate the Big Media where he makes money from engagements and impressions. He is not doing anything new or special that others have not tried before. There is Reno Omokri, who now speaks for the sides he once condemned. There is VDM, who was embroiled in money laundering just after he became a celebrity activist. And there is Omoyele Sowore, who similarly started out as an investigative journalist and critic but has at least contributed to building a social movement and partisan structures to maximize the energy and anger that his citizen journalism brings. This work of building alternative institutions that do not duplicate the institutions of the establishment is actually what distinguishes the populist establishment from the populist anti-establishment.

Yet in focusing our gaze on the populist establishment, are we not guilty of the same critique? I would argue, on the contrary, that what makes it necessary to concern ourselves with David Hundeyin’s antics is the fact that his demagoguery is starting to stand in the way of building a real anti-imperialist alternative in Nigeria and beyond. He is standing in the way of a genuine anti-establishment trying to build alternative institutions. The promise of anti-imperialism is independence from the empire. That will not happen by changing masters from Western empires to China or Russia. That will not happen on a social media platform owned by a Big Tech billionaire—whether it’s X, Facebook, or Telegram. That will happen in building connections, organizing and building alternatives together. David Hundeyin is often taking the attention of those who could build those alternatives away from the real task, and into momentary rage that feeds their complacency and his popularity.

But what are those alternatives? In this case, that will start with building alternative media platforms whose message cannot be controlled by the strings of grants because of its institutional structure, not because of one pure owner of the platform. It will start with social media platforms that are decentralized, instead of the centralized algorithms of X or Meta that amplify controversial and “enrage to engage” content. This is how to make the best out of good intentions.

David Hundeyin is not an agent or a plant. But his fight against the empire is following the logic of the empire he is fighting. The time has come to break the pattern of celebrity activists that amplify controversies for a news cycle, civil rights lawyers who celebrate victories but leave structures intact, investigative journalist who exposes scandals but never builds alternatives, and the “radical” influencer who measures success by media mentions and not by community power. It is time to locate the line between the populist establishment and the populist anti-establishment.

This is a challenge not only to the stars of the movement but also to their “followers.” We must ask ourselves, “If my leader disappeared tomorrow, what would I have built that does not depend on him?” If the answer is “nothing,” then we have not been building alternatives. We have been trapped in what exists; unready for what may be possible.

The alternative is not to stop reading Hundeyin. The alternative is to treat his work as what it is: (sometimes) useful information about what the empire is doing. But not a blueprint for freedom. Not a destination. Not a leader. The real work happens elsewhere in the slow patient construction of institutions that do not require permission, do not seek validation, and do not orient themselves toward the centers of power.