Catching cruise with content creation on a faked rape claim feels like a sign of the times, an age where attention is currency and virality is victory. Growing up, I often heard a familiar refrain whenever I buried my face in a newspaper: “All these newspaper stories are lies.” It puzzled me. I struggled to understand how an entire profession built on reporting could be dismissed with such sweeping suspicion. Yet that myth persisted among many locals who believed newspapers manufactured drama simply to sell copies. I sometimes wonder whether that skepticism has truly faded or merely migrated from print to pixels.
Today, the theatre has changed. The stage is no longer confined to ink and paper; it is the glowing screen in every palm. Content creation has emerged as the new goldmine, replacing the once-glorious boast of “working in the oil industry” that used to impress admirers and in-laws alike.
Entertainment is now the new oil well. Even the Nigerian music icon D’Banj once described content creation as the goldmine of the new age during a music contest appearance. Talent now travels at the speed of Wi-Fi, and influence can be minted into income overnight. Yet beneath the glamour lies a darker undertone, the relentless pressure to stay visible, to trend, to shock, to set the internet ablaze. Visibility pays, silence starves.
Scholars of media studies call this the “attention economy,” a term popularized by thinkers like Herbert A. Simon, who observed that a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention. In such a marketplace, the loudest voice often wins, not the most truthful. When algorithms reward engagement above ethics, the temptation to stage sensationalism becomes overwhelming. The line between creativity and manipulation begins to blur.
Society once cherished the wisdom: say good or remain silent. It echoes both divine teachings and ancient philosophy. Even Socrates is credited with the idea that speech must pass the tests of truth, goodness, and necessity. Social media, however, has reactivated the impulse to speak at all costs. Group admins demand activity, influencers must maintain relevance, comedians must outdo yesterday’s punchline. The pressure to avoid “dull moments” sometimes mutates into what one might call verbal excess, noise mistaken for impact.
This reflection was reignited by the recent controversy surrounding an 18-year-old TikToker, Mirabel, who admitted that her widely circulated rape allegation was false. The storm intensified when the respected Nigerian singer Simi spoke passionately against rape culture, urging men to hold other men accountable and insisting that false claims should not silence genuine victims. Her intervention, intended as advocacy, ignited backlash from critics who argued that the issue of false accusations deserved equal attention. Screenshots resurfaced, memes multiplied, and she was mockingly nicknamed “Ikorodu Celine Dion.” In the blink of an eye, outrage replaced nuance.
Then came another twist. The social media activist VeryDarkMan disclosed that Mirabel confessed the claim was fabricated. According to him, she described herself as an orphan struggling with addiction and mental health challenges. Rehabilitation was reportedly being arranged. The case shifted to Ogun State for investigation. The internet, however, had already feasted. Reactions continued to pour in, reopening debates about sexual violence, accountability, and the fragile mental health terrain behind viral scandals.
False alarms and knee-jerk activism are not new. Fair commentary demands patience, yet speed is the law of the digital jungle. A similar pattern once played out with Muneerat Abdulsalam, a Facebook personality with a large following, who reportedly posted a video suggesting she had been molested, only to later claim she was merely “catching cruise” to test her fans’ loyalty. The emotional whiplash left many questioning how far creativity can stretch before it snaps into deception.
Even the Nollywood space is not immune. Actress Regina Daniels once posted a video of her husband, Senator Ned Nwoko, filmed in what appeared to be a restroom scenario, again framed as playful mischief. The internet buzzed, speculated, and moved on. Each spectacle reinforces a culture where shock value often eclipses substance.
WhatsApp groups mirror this trend. Messages begin with urgent appeals for bank account numbers or dramatic announcements, only to end with “just kidding.” The joke is the deception. The thrill is the reaction. Yet comedy, in its noblest form, is an art. It requires vision, sensitivity, and awareness of consequences. As communication theorist Jürgen Habermas argued, public discourse thrives on sincerity and mutual understanding; without them, conversation collapses into distortion.
Why, then, do some believe nothing is off-limits, not even criminal or deeply traumatic experiences like rape? Islam, for instance, treats certain utterances with grave seriousness. The Prophet Muhammad taught that actions are judged by intentions, and Islamic jurisprudence holds that statements like divorce cannot be reduced to casual jokes. Words carry weight. Speech has consequences.
It is naïve to imagine that faking rape allegations brings more gain than loss. Even when proven false, the stain lingers on the accused, on genuine victims whose stories may now be doubted, and on the fabric of trust that holds society together. Research in social psychology consistently shows that sensational falsehoods travel faster than corrections, leaving long shadows of suspicion long after truth emerges.
Yet tasteless content often yields immediate rewards: views, followers, brand deals. Politics and religion are not immune to theatrical performance either. A viral clip of a woman declaring she cannot date a faithful man sparks debate. Former governor Nasir El-Rufai occasionally trends for provocative statements. Religious enforcement bodies like Kano Hisbah attract headlines with controversial action of arresting Muslims not fasting. In each case, virality fuels visibility, and visibility sustains relevance.
We now inhabit a culture where talk can be monetized, outrage can be commodified, and sympathy can be staged. But when false alarms become entertainment, society pays a price. Trust erodes. Compassion becomes cautious. Genuine cries for help risk being met with doubt. And those who stage the drama may discover too late that the applause of the crowd is fleeting, but the consequences endure.
Creativity is a gift. Comedy is a craft. Influence is a responsibility. To play with truth, especially on matters as grave as sexual violence is to gamble with the moral health of society. In a world hungry for content, perhaps the rarest and most revolutionary act is not to shock, but to speak with integrity.
Bagudu can be reached at bagudumohammed15197@gmail.com or on 0703 494 3575.
