Ar(c)tivism and Policing: Unveiling the Theatrics of Justice and Resistance in Nigeria’s S$\stackrel{\mathbf{̀}}{\mathbf{ọ}}$r$\stackrel{\mathbf{̀}}{\mathbf{ọ}}$-Sókè Movement

Abstract

The S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement, sparked by Nigeria’s 2020 #EndSARS protests, represents a pivotal stand against systemic injustice, with its Yoruba rallying cry “S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-sókè” (“Speak Up” or “Speak Louder”) capturing the collective demand to end police brutality, notably, by the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS). This study employs Digital Artivism as its theoretical lens to investigate the fusion of art and activism within the movement, analyzing how creative and performative expressions amplified its message and mobilized diverse populations. Applying Feldman’s Model of Art Criticism, it dissects the theatrical elements of selected protest artworks, revealing their role in inciting resistance and fostering solidarity in the pursuit of justice. By situating S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè within global discourses on art and social justice, this research underscores its significance as a model of artivism’s power to challenge oppressive systems and inspire collective action. The critique of these artworks illustrates their lasting influence on Nigeria’s socio-political landscape and their resonance with worldwide struggles against systemic violence and inequality. Highlighting the transformative potential of theatrical activism, this study advances understanding of how digital artivism can unite voices, elevate causes, and drive societal change.

1. Introduction

The campaign to disband Nigeria’s infamous Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) ignited on Twitter (now X) in 2017 under the hashtag #EndSARS, setting off a nationwide call to expose the unit’s pervasive violence and impunity. Nigerians took to the platform to share disturbing personal testimonies of brutality inflicted by SARS officers, bringing to light a long-standing pattern of tyranny that had terrorized communities. What began as an online outcry rapidly changed into a decentralized social movement, resulting in mass protests across the country by October 2020. At its peak, the #EndSARS campaign, widely known as the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement (named for the Yoruba phrase meaning “speak up”), garnered over 28 million tweets (Kazeem 2020), transcending national borders to emerge as a global phenomenon.

Mirroring the trajectories of movements like the Arab Spring, Black Lives Matter (BLM), and the Occupy Movement, the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè protests harnessed diverse strategies to amplify their demands. Activists deftly blended social media advocacy with traditional organizing tactics, employing digital billboards at key protest sites like the Lekki Toll Plaza and engaging in grassroots mobilization and coalition building. Organizations such as the Feminist Coalition of Nigeria (FCN) played a key role, coordinating fundraising and logistical support to sustain the movement. Amid these efforts, art emerged as a dynamic and compelling tool, channeling the #EndSARS message to shape public opinion, inspire support, and propel the quest for meaningful police reform.

Art has long played a crucial role in protest movements, instigating social awareness and prompting collective action (Aladro-Vico et al. 2018; Roig-Palmer and Pedneault 2019, p. 91). Artivists—activists who wield creative expression as a tool for advocacy—capitalize on the human mind’s susceptibility to the persuasive power of imagery and performance (Alimen et al. 2023, p. 39). Murals, music, paintings, dance, illustrations, performances, and others have historically delivered resonant messages that rally public sentiment. For example, the iconic BLM murals painted across American streets became enduring symbols of racial justice (Black Lives Matter (BLM) Street Art Gallery n.d.), while freedom songs by artists like Miriam Makeba and Hugh Masekela sustained the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa, amplifying the grassroots resistance on a global stage (Anti-Apartheid Legacy n.d.). Likewise, Bob Marley’s anthems, such as “Get Up, Stand Up” and “Redemption Song”, transcended geographical and temporal boundaries, inspiring movements against oppression and police brutality worldwide.

In Nigeria, this tradition of artistic protest boasts a rich legacy. Fela Kuti’s 1977 track “Sorrow, Tears and Blood” offered an intense critique of state-sponsored violence, while Majek Fashek’s 1989 song “Police Brutality” confronted societal injustices inherent in policing head-on (Agwu 2020). These works, much like Marley’s, endure as catalysts for dialogue and resistance, keeping the demand for justice alive in public consciousness. Building on this heritage, Nigerian artivists during the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement wielded their craft to spotlight police brutality, with young artists at the forefront leveraging their talents to amplify protester voices and draw international attention. In doing so, they challenged stereotypes of youth apathy, showcasing a generation politically engaged and resolute (Campos and Simões 2024, p. 1853).

The sonic landscape of the #EndSARS protests brimmed with protest anthems that captured the movement’s ethos. Songs like Ruggedman’s “Is Police Your Friend?”, Falz’s “This is Nigeria” and “Johnny”, released prior to the 2020 uprisings, laid the groundwork by critiquing systemic failures. During the protests, songs such as Prinx Emmanuel’s “Man Down”, Zlatan’s “Soro Soke”, and Dice Ailes’ “No One” deepened the discourse, while post-protest releases like Chike’s “20-10-20 (Wahala Dey)” and Burna Boy’s “20.10.20” mourned the tragic Lekki Toll Gate massacre that took place on 20 October 2020. Beyond music, performances, such as skits, illustrations, spoken word poetry, and dance, animated protest sites, radiating unity, resilience, and defiance. These artistic interventions not only energized participants but also captivated media attention, bolstering widespread support for the movement’s intents. Influential content creators like Debo Adedayo (Mr Macaroni) and Samuel Perry (Broda Shaggi) further enriched the narrative, using satirical skits to critique police brutality and systemic corruption (Adedayo 2020; Perry 2020).

Outside performances, visual artivism was also prominent during the protests. Artists produced and disseminated paintings (such as the live painting session organized by the art community, Sanusi n.d.), murals, memes, photographs, illustrations, and graphics imbued with potent symbolism. These works featuring clenched fists, broken chains, the phrase “S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-sókè”, and the #EndSARS hashtag, which were widely shared on social media and displayed at protest grounds, articulated the demands for justice and accountability (Siyanbola et al. 2023). Art institutions joined the cause, with initiatives like Art X Lagos recalibrating its 2020 program to foreground the protests through exhibitions and discussions with figures such as Folarin Falana (Falz); Lemi Ghariokwu; and Opal Tometi (now Ayo Tometi), co-founder of BLM (Das 2020). Nigerian diaspora artists, including Laolu Senbanjo and Boma Tende, echoed this solidarity with supportive artworks, reinforcing the movement’s global resonance.

At its core, S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè’s artivism vividly narrates a struggle for justice and resistance against police violence in a nation where youth grapple with systemic disadvantages. This study explores the critical role of art within the movement, with a particular focus on works disseminated by artivists via social media platforms. The movement’s intricate weave of artistic expression and digital engagement presents a compelling case study of how creativity can fuel social transformation. By analyzing this historically significant moment, the article aims to provide a detailed understanding of how art not only reflects but actively shapes resistance, offering insights into its broader implications for protest movements worldwide.

Moreover, this research contributes to and extends existing scholarship on artivism (e.g., Alimen et al. 2023; Danko 2018; Garcia 2023; Aladro-Vico et al. 2018; Campos and Simões 2024) by foregrounding a non-Western context. While global movements like BLM have garnered substantial attention, the digital dimensions of protest art in localized resistance remain underexplored. By applying Feldman’s Model of Art Criticism to selected #EndSARS artworks, this study bridges that gap, offering a detailed framework for understanding how digital artivism amplifies marginalized voices and catalyzes socio-political change.

2. Historical Use of Art in Nigerian Protests and Movements

Artistic resistance in Nigeria is deeply rooted in its cultural and political fabric, serving as a vital instrument for both preserving heritage and challenging power structures. The emergence of modern Nigerian art in the early 20th century, spearheaded by Aina Onabolu, marked a fundamental moment in this tradition. Inspired by socio-political activism in Lagos at the time, Onabolu harnessed art as a tool of anti-colonial resistance, countering European cultural imposition and missionary stereotypes through visual propaganda (Akpang 2016, p. 100). His efforts not only incited anti-imperial sentiment but also laid the groundwork for contemporary Nigerian art, earning him recognition as the “Father of Modern Art in Nigeria” after introducing it into the secondary school curriculum in 1923 (Famule 2014).

This legacy of art in/as protest crystallized during key historical moments. The 1929 Aba Women’s Riot, a revolt against colonial taxation and the excesses of warrant chiefs in southeastern Nigeria, exemplified early artistic resistance. Women in Calabar and Owerri employed traditional performative practices, such as “sitting on a man” (an all-night song-and-dance ritual mocking male authority), to voice their grievances, compelling some warrant chiefs to resign (Titus 2017, p. 100). Similarly, in 1946, Funmilayo Ransome-Kuti led the Abeokuta Women’s Union in a dramatic protest against the Alake of Egbaland’s oppressive policies. Over 10,000 women besieged the palace, wielding chants, subversive songs, and mock funeral rites, including lyrics that boldly inverted gender power dynamics: “For a long time you have used your penis as a mark of authority… Today we shall reverse the order and use our vagina to play the role of husband” (Johnson-Odim and Mba 1997). This theatrical defiance dethroned the monarch and secured women’s representation in local governance.

During Nigeria’s push for independence in the 1950s and 1960s, art became a potent vehicle for nationalist advocacy. Artists like Akinola Lasekan and Ben Enwonwu crafted works that celebrated African identity and critiqued colonial rule. Lasekan’s incisive cartoons in The West African Pilot—earning him the moniker “Lash”—championed political freedom and mental decolonization (Bonhams 2017). Concurrently, the Zaria Art Society, founded in the late 1950s at the Nigerian College of Arts, Science, and Technology, rejected Eurocentric curricula in favor of what they call a “Natural Synthesis” approach (Akpang 2016, p. 115). Members like Bruce Onobrakpeya, Yusuf Grillo, Simon Okeke, and Uche Okeke fused indigenous motifs with modern techniques, thereby fostering a cultural nationalism that mirrored Nigeria’s political aspirations. The Oshogbo School, emerging in the same era, furthered this resistance through workshops driven by a “manifesto of cultural revivalism” (Akpang 2016, p. 118). Artists such as Taiwo Olaniyi (Twins Seven-Seven), Muraina Oyelami, and Nike Okundaye employed Yoruba symbols and narratives to defy colonial erasure, reinforcing art’s role as a wall against domination.

The post-colonial period, marked by military rule, saw artistic resistance intensify. Fela Kuti, the Afrobeat pioneer, epitomized this shift in the 1970s and 1980s, using music to confront Nigeria’s repressive regimes. Songs like “Zombie” and “Coffin for Head of State” blended satire and rhythm to denounce corruption and human rights abuses, transforming his Kalakuta Republic into a hub of art and dissent. Fela’s influence reverberated through subsequent generations, with reggae artists like Majek Fashek and Ras Kimono amplifying social struggles. Fashek’s 1989 track “Police Brutality” directly addressed police violence, while Kimono’s “Under Pressure” and “Kill Apartheid” tackled domestic hardship and global injustice, cementing music’s role in Nigerian protest culture.

Student-led movements further highlighted art’s political potency. The 1978 “Ali Must Go” protests, sparked by fee hikes under Olusegun Obasanjo’s regime, saw students wield mock coffins and chants to demand educational reform, though the victory was marred by the deaths of nine protesters (Odion-Akhaine 2009). In 1989, the Anti-SAP (Structural Adjustment Program) riots against Ibrahim Babangida’s austerity measures began with symbolic parades at the University of Benin before escalating into nationwide unrest as market women and labor unions joined in. The 1993 annulment of the June 12 election ignited further creative dissent, with artists and activists sustaining resistance against Sani Abacha’s subsequent dictatorship. Ken Saro-Wiwa’s literary and performative activism, though costing him his life, spotlighted ecological and social injustices in the Niger Delta.

Entering the 21st century, Nigerian art evolved with digital platforms. The 2012 Occupy Nigeria protests against fuel subsidy removal, mobilized via social media, drew inspiration from the Arab Spring and Occupy movement. Performance artist Jelili Atiku’s “Nigerian Fetish” and songs by Eedris Abdulkareem, Sound Sultan, African China, Femi Kuti, and others energized rallies, while Nollywood stars and comedians lent visibility. This digital turn peaked with the 2020 #EndSARS movement, where murals, protest songs, paintings, skits, and viral illustrations—amplified by figures like Falz, Aisha Yesufu, Debo Macaroni, and Flag Boy—projected resistance globally, building on Nigeria’s storied tradition.

From colonial struggles to contemporary ar(c)tivism, Nigerian art has transcended mere aesthetics to function as a mode of political commentary and collective mobilization. By reclaiming narratives and forging solidarity, this artistic heritage has continually shaped the nation’s resistance landscape, setting the stage for the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$ -Sókè artivism at the heart of this study.

3. Historical Context of SARS and Its Atrocities

SARS was established in Lagos in 1992 as a tactical response to escalating violent crime that plagued Nigeria amid its volatile post-military political landscape. It was designed as an elite unit within the Nigerian Police Force and tasked with combating high-profile criminality through covert intelligence, proactive crime prevention, and the infiltration of criminal networks (Omeni 2022, p. 243). To maximize the unit’s responsiveness, officers operated without uniforms or marked vehicles, a structure intended to preserve its anonymity and enable rapid, unbureaucratic action. This autonomy initially instilled fear in criminal circles, aligning with SARS’ mandate to apprehend masterminds and disrupt organized crime (Omeni 2022, p. 243).

Yet, this operational independence, devoid of robust oversight, sowed the seeds of the unit’s corruption. By 2002, SARS expanded nationwide and, with its autonomy, operated outside the standard police hierarchy; however, this lack of accountability fostered a culture of abuse (Omeni 2022, p. 241). Over time, SARS officers deviated from their mission, erecting roadblocks to extort motorists and targeting young Nigerians they perceived as affluent (often singled out for their appearance, gadgets, or vehicles) under vague pretexts of criminality. The anonymity once key to their effectiveness now shrouded their actions, blurring the line between law enforcement and lawlessness. By the 2010s, SARS had become a byword for terror, notorious for extrajudicial killings, unlawful detentions, torture, and systemic extortion.

Reports of SARS atrocities are countless. In 2013, the discovery of 35 decomposing bodies, suspected to be victims of the unit, in the Ezu River near Awkuzu, Anambra State, shocked the nation (Sahara Reporters 2020). One father, repeatedly extorted by SARS, was made to search the river’s corpses out of desperation to find his missing son dead or alive, a scene later immortalized in Chigozie Obi’s protest art at Lekki Toll Plaza and a strong testament to decades of brutality (see Figure 1). A 2016 Amnesty International report further exposed the horrors of SARS detention centers, such as “the Abattoir” in Abuja, where 130 detainees endured overcrowded cells and routine torture. The report highlighted the unit’s pattern of profiling young Nigerians as fraudsters or criminals based solely on appearance and often without evidence (Amnesty International 2021c).

Efforts to curb SARS’ excesses proved futile. Nigeria’s 2015 and 2017 anti-torture act criminalized inhumane treatment (The Anti-Torture Act 2017), yet enforcement failed, and abuses persisted. In December 2017, then Inspector General Ibrahim Idris announced a reorganization of SARS and, as well, banned roadblock checks (Agency Report 2017); but these measures were superficial, leaving the unit’s impunity intact. In January 2019, the then new Inspector General Muhammed Adamu disbanded the Federal Special Anti-Robbery Squad (FSARS) and the Special Investigation Panel established by his predecessor to investigate SARS abuses (Ewodage 2019). However, these directives also failed to dismantle the unit’s entrenched practices or deliver accountability. Another Amnesty International (2020, June) Report documented at least 82 cases of torture, ill treatment, and extrajudicial executions by SARS between January 2017 and May 2020, underlining a systemic failure to reform.

This unbroken chain of violence and unheeded reform calls fueled public outrage, resulting in the 2020 #EndSARS protests. Nigerians, long subjected to SARS’ reign of terror, mobilized nationwide to demand not just the unit’s dissolution but broader justice and systemic change. The historical trajectory of SARS—from a specialized squad to a symbol of state-sanctioned oppression—frames the urgency and resonance of the ar(c)tivism that emerged in response, as explored in this study.

4. The Rise of the S$\stackrel{\mathbf{̀}}{\mathbf{ọ}}$r$\stackrel{\mathbf{̀}}{\mathbf{ọ}}$-Sókè Movement

The campaign gained traction during the COVID-19 lockdown in early 2020, as police violence surpassed the virus’ toll—reports indicated 18 police-related deaths against 12 from the virus by April (BBC 2020a). The defining moment was on 3 October 2020, when a video surfaced online alleging that SARS officers had killed 22-year-old Joshua Ambrose in Ughelli, Delta State. The police countered that Ambrose, though injured while evading arrest, was alive and receiving treatment (Agbo 2021; Imoudu 2022); however, their denial without providing proof fueled public skepticism. The outrage intensified on 4 October, when other footage showed SARS officers dragging two men from a hotel and extrajudicially executing one on the street, leading to nationwide protests by 7 October (Amnesty International 2021a).

The protests escalated on 10 October, when police fatally shot a bystander, Jimoh Isiaq, during demonstrations in Ogbomosho, Oyo State (Elusoji 2020). In response, the Inspector General Muhammed Adamu, under President Muhammadu Buhari’s directive, announced SARS’ dissolution on 11 October, replacing it with a SWAT unit (BBC 2020b). Yet, protesters, wary of five prior unfulfilled promises since 2015, dismissed this as superficial. The swift unveiling of SWAT, coupled with the government’s failure to address the protesters’ five demands, deepened distrust. These demands were (1) immediate release of detained protesters, (2) justice for victims of police brutality, (3) an independent panel to investigate misconduct, (4) psychological evaluations and retraining for SARS officers, and (5) higher police salaries to deter corruption. On 13 October, the presidency acknowledged these demands and urged an end to protests, but years of broken promises kept demonstrators resolute.

The movement’s global resonance rose on 15 October, when then Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey endorsed #EndSARS, introducing a custom emoji that symbolized solidarity (Larnyoh 2020). Protests spread across Nigerian cities and diaspora hubs like New York, Toronto, Berlin, and London. The slogan “S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-sókè” (“speak up”) came into being on 14 October, during Lagos Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu’s address to protesters; when he was not audible enough, someone shouted “S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-sókè Were!” (“speak up, mad person!”), which prompted laughter in the crowd and eventually became a rallying call for the campaign (Alake 2020). This spirit infused protest venues, with participants putting on shirts inscribed with the phrase, while many artists performed, lending a festive air to the resistance.

The movement’s trajectory shifted tragically on 20 October 2020, at Lekki Toll Plaza, when the Nigerian army opened fire on peaceful protesters, killing at least 12 (Amnesty International 2021d). Nationwide, 38 deaths were reported that day, with 56 total protest-related fatalities attributed to police violence (Amnesty International 2021b). DJ Switch’s Instagram livestream, alongside amateur videos of bloodstained flags and bullet casings, contradicted government denials of the massacre. In its aftermath, hoodlums exploited the chaos, looting warehouses hoarding COVID-19 palliatives, torching police stations, and attacking public infrastructure despite curfews. This wave of looting spread across most states. In the aftermath, authorities responded by freezing protest leaders’ accounts, seizing passports, and fining media outlets like Channels TV and Arise for airing footage, aiming to suppress coverage (Adaramola 2020).

What distinguished S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè was its fusion of art and digital innovation. Visual artists, musicians, poets, actors, and content creators produced works that mobilized support for the movement. Social media platforms not only coordinated the protests but also broadcast real-time evidence, sustaining momentum and global reach. This synergy of artivism and technology empowered grassroots voices (Kelvin and Tsegyu 2022), setting S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè apart from prior movements. Though marred by tragedy, its legacy endures, inspiring this digitally savvy generation to harness creative expression in their calls for accountability and change.

5. Digital Ar(c)tivism

Artivism, a fusion of art and activism, harnesses creative expression to drive social and political transformation. Sandoval and Latorre define it as a “hybrid neologism” reflecting an “organic relationship between art and activism” (cited in Campos and Simões 2024, p. 1856), while Aladro-Vico et al. (2018, p. 13) frame it as a “language of independence and freedom” aimed at immediate social intervention. Globally, artivism manifests through diverse mediums—visual arts (murals, paintings, illustrations, photography), performing arts (theatre, dance, music, spoken word poetry), digital arts (graphic design, memes, video art), literary arts (poetry, prose, storytelling, protest signs and slogans)—capitalizing on art’s ability to transcend linguistic barriers, evoke emotion, and mobilize communities against entrenched norms.

As Danko stated, the concept, though fluid and variably labeled—Activist Art, Socially Engaged Art, Relational Art, among others—centers on a shared intent: leveraging art for societal impact (Danko 2018, p. 239). Its roots stretch across history, from Diego Rivera’s politically charged murals in the early 20th century to the protest songs of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement, and through avant-garde movements like Dadaism and Surrealism, which responded to World War I, and the feminist art of the 1970s, which defied patriarchal structures. These precedents highlight art’s enduring role as a vehicle for resistance and commentary.

The digital age has revolutionized artivism, with social media platforms like Twitter (now X), Instagram, and Facebook amplifying its reach and immediacy. Bypassing traditional media, digital artivists connect directly with global audiences, pushing local struggles into transnational movements. This shift gained prominence during the 2011 Arab Spring, Occupy Movement, and anti-austerity protests in Europe, where digital tools enabled activists to evade censorship, coordinate logistics, and disseminate dissent (Tufekci 2017). Tufekci (2017) highlights how a single click on a Facebook invite could spark revolutionary participation, marking a paradigm shift in protest dynamics.

Digital platforms, however, present both opportunities and challenges. They excel at rapid mobilization—gathering protesters around shared causes via livestreams and hashtags—but often lack the structural depth of traditional organizing, which fosters leadership and resilience (Tufekci 2017, pp. xxiii–iv). In leaderless movements such as #EndSARS, informal spokespersons emerge organically online, wielding influence without formal legitimacy, sometimes leading to internal friction. Yet, this fluidity also democratizes participation, blurring creator–audience boundaries and enabling collaborative protest art.

Campos and Simões (2024) identify eight functions of digital media in artivism: facilitating information access, providing effective support, enabling communication, expressing identity, supporting creative activism, resourcing practices, promoting causes, and fostering projects. These hinge on the internet’s communicative power, which facilitates both content dissemination and interactive engagement. Digital artivism thus challenges dominant narratives, amplifies marginalized voices, and sidesteps traditional gatekeepers such as galleries and critics, offering unfiltered access to millions of audiences. Forms like memes, illustrations, and video art, which are easily shared and remixed, contribute to this reach, as evident in the #BlackLivesMatter movement, where viral visuals of racial injustice united people worldwide in solidarity.

In the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement, digital artivism proved transformative. Viral images, protest songs, paintings, skits, and street performances not only expressed outrage but also mobilized support and reframed narratives around police brutality. Hashtags and user-generated content collectively shaped a unique visual identity, reflecting a participatory culture distinct from elite-driven art. This digital amplification, evident in DJ Switch’s livestream of the Lekki massacre or the #EndSARS emoji endorsed by Jack Dorsey, extended the movement’s resonance beyond Nigeria, linking it to global justice struggles like #BlackLivesMatter.

Adopting digital artivism as a theoretical lens, this study analyzes its role within S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè, exploring how digital mediums expanded the reach of protest art and amplified demands for social justice. By examining key artworks that emerged and their dissemination, this study explores how digital artivism challenged systemic injustice, fostered transnational solidarity, and redefined resistance in a digitally networked age. This framework underscores the movement’s innovation, positioning it as a case study on art’s evolving power to confront oppression and inspire change.

6. Research Framework

This study addresses the following research question: How do the theatrical and performative elements of #EndSARS protest arts amplify the movement’s call for justice and reform? Supporting sub-questions include (1) What artistic techniques and symbols were used to mobilize support?; (2) How did social media dissemination enhance their impact?; and (3) How do these works compare to global artivism traditions?

These questions guide a critical analysis grounded in Digital Artivism and Feldman’s Model of Art Criticism, chosen for their complementary strengths. Digital Artivism frames the study within the digital amplification of protest art (Campos and Simões 2024), while Feldman’s Model offers a systematic lens for dissecting artworks’ form and impact (Feldman 1994). This dual framework is well suited to explore the interplay of artistic practices and activism in a digitally networked movement like S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè.

6.1. Feldman’s Model of Art Criticism

Feldman’s model of art criticism provides a structured and systematic framework for analyzing artworks. Developed by Edmund Burke Feldman, this approach views art criticism as a deliberate and articulate process of verbal or written “talk” about art (Feldman 1994, p. 1). Originally designed for visual arts, the model comprises four interconnected stages—Description, Analysis, Interpretation, and Judgement—that guide a comprehensive critique (See Figure 2). Its adaptability makes it well-suited for examining diverse artistic expressions, from static visuals to performances, within the #EndSARS protests. This study employs Feldman’s model to dissect the artworks’ form, meaning, and impact, revealing their role in digital artivism and resistance against police brutality.

Description

The initial stage entails objectively describing the artworks, detailing their visual elements and textual components without making judgements or interpretations (Feldman 1994, p. 25). For visual works, this includes documenting the artist’s name, title, medium (e.g., digital illustration, mural), materials, and depicted subjects or objects. In the case of performances, description extends to settings, characters, props, costumes, and auditory elements like lyrics or chants. Applied to sampled #EndSARS art, this stage catalogs the factual components of pieces like murals at Lekki Toll Plaza or viral digital arts, establishing a foundation for deeper analysis.

Analysis

The analysis stage delves into the artwork’s compositional and sensory elements (Feldman 1994, p. 28), exploring how visual features (line, color, form, texture) and, for performances, auditory cues interact to construct meaning. Beyond formal qualities, this study contextualizes these elements within the #EndSARS socio-political space, considering the artists’ identities, activist intent, and audience reception. For instance, the interplay of bold typography and clenched fist motifs in digital posters and memes or the defiance stance in protest pictures is examined for its narrative coherence and resonance, revealing how artistic choices amplify the movement’s message.

Interpretation

Interpretation, the most intricate stage, uncovers the artwork’s deeper significance and emotional resonance (Feldman 1994, p. 30). Here, the study integrates formal analysis with contextual insights to decode what the works communicate about the protesters’ lived experiences, police brutality, justice, and human rights. By situating #EndSARS art within broader narratives of freedom and resistance, similar to global movements like Black Lives Matter, this stage probes how these pieces reflect collective trauma and aspirations, translating raw emotion into universal calls for change.

Judgement

The final stage evaluates the artwork’s efficacy, aesthetic merit, and influence (Feldman 1994, p. 36) on the #EndSARS movement. It assesses whether the works successfully conveyed their intended message, mobilized support, and sustained protest momentum, integrating findings from prior stages into a holistic critique. For digital artivism, this includes gauging how online dissemination enhanced visibility and engagement, as with viral hashtags or livestreamed performances. Judgement thus measures the artworks’ contribution to the movement’s goals, affirming their role as both aesthetic objects and activist tools.

By applying Feldman’s model, this study systematically analyzes #EndSARS artworks, bridging their artistic attributes with their socio-political impact. This framework not only reveals the mechanics of digital artivism but also highlights its power to challenge systemic injustice, making it an apt lens for studying the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement’s creative legacy.

6.2. Data Collection and Sampling

This study draws its data from Twitter (now X), a platform instrumental to the #EndSARS movement since its emergence in 2017. As a primary arena for protest coordination and artistic dissemination, Twitter offers a rich archive of the movement’s digital artivism. Data collection centered on hashtags critical to the 2020 protests, such as #EndSARS, #EndPoliceBrutality, #S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$sókè, #EndInjustice, and #EndImpunity, utilizing Twitter’s advanced search functionality to compile a comprehensive dataset. This initial compilation was refined to prioritize visual and performative expressions by artivists and activists whose works achieved prominence during the protests, reflecting their resonance within the movement.

A purposive sampling strategy was employed to select data aligned with the study’s objectives. Impact was assessed through engagement metrics, including retweets, mentions, quotes, and replies, which signaled an artwork’s reach and influence. From this pool, three impactful artworks were chosen for in-depth critique, selected for their significant roles in mobilizing support, sustaining protest momentum, and amplifying marginalized voices. This targeted approach ensures the analysis captures the interplay between artistic expression and socio-political action within the digital sphere.

Limitations include a potential bias toward high-visibility artworks, possibly sidelining less prominent contributions. The reliance on Twitter data also limits the scope to digitally shared content. Future research could explore offline protest art to complement the analysis.

The selected samples are:

1.

“Statue of Liberty”—Protest Image of Aisha Yesufu (Figure 3) captured by Victor Odiba.

2.

“Open Brain Surgery”—Illustrative Performance by Darlington Okoduwa (Figure 4).

3.

“Flag Boy”—Protest Image of Akinwunmi Ibrahim Adebanjo (Figure 5), Photographed by Ayodeji Adegoroye.

7. Findings and Discussion

7.1. Description

Sample I: Protest Image of Aisha Yesufu

The photograph (Figure 3) depicts Aisha Yesufu standing on a public street in Abuja during the protest. She is positioned centrally, legs apart, with a bag slung across her chest. She wears a plain grey hijab covering her head and body, paired with a face mask, and her right hand is raised in a clenched fist. The background features a blurred crowd of protesters, rendered indistinct to emphasize Yesufu as the focal point. The high-contrast image emphasizes her silhouette, particularly the fist, against the backdrop. The hashtag #EndSARS is the only visible text or additional marking that appears within the frame.

Sample II: Illustrative Performance by Darlington

This audiovisual performance (Figure 4), titled with an on-screen warning—“Open Brain Surgery: Operation Room Footage. Viewer’s Discretion Advised. Stop the Killings”—opens with a cut-out diagram of a Nigerian police officer, its badge altered to read “Reform Us Pls”. The artist, Darlington, remains faceless, with the camera framing only his hands against a backdrop of surgical tools set on a sterile surface. The sequence begins with Darlington slicing open the figure’s skull, exposing a brain illustration. Accompanied by a rhythmic monitor beep and Fela Kuti’s “Authority Stealing” in the background, he uses detergent (Klin) and bleach (Hypo) to clean the brain, then extracts objects with forceps: a Chelsea Dry Gin sachet; cigarette; POS machine with debit card; Naira notes; and tags reading “Extrajudicial Killings”, “Bribery”, and “Impunity”. These are replaced with tags labeled “Integrity”, “Protect the Citizen”, “I serve the people, not the Government”, “Dress like Heroes not Thugs”, and “I’m not God”. The video concludes with the brain stitched shut and the officer’s hat repositioned.

Sample III: Flag Boy’s Protest Image

Captured on 10 October 2020 in Alausa, Ikeja, Lagos, this monochromatic photograph (Figure 5) shows Akinwunmi Ibrahim Adebanjo, known as Flag Boy, standing atop a traffic booth. He holds two flagpoles: one with the Nigerian national flag and the other with a white flag bearing the hashtag “#ENDSARS”. Centrally positioned, his upright stance dominates the frame, with protesters in the foreground facing him, their backs turned to the camera. The cloudy sky above and the urban setting below frame the scene, with the flags as the visual focal point. The monochrome palette intensifies the contrast between Adebanjo, the flags, and the surrounding crowd.

7.2. Analysis

Sample I: Protest Image of Aisha Yesufu

The raised fist, a striking visual element, dominates the composition and stands out sharply against the blurred, lighter background of the Abuja protest. The upward thrust of Aisha’s fist, coupled with her centered stance, legs apart and body facing forward, creates a strong, vertical, statuesque figure that draws the eye and establishes her as the focal point amidst the indistinct crowd. Her plain, unembellished hijab stands out against the busy scene behind her, making her silhouette even more distinct and isolating her defiant gesture. This mix of simplicity and demonstration highlights both the collective action’s scale of the protest and the individual role in it. The hijab, a symbol of her belief and background, adds a cultural layer to the image, its modesty juxtaposed with the public defiance of her bold pose. Visible cameras and placards in the background, though secondary, reinforce the protest’s documented energy, their horizontal lines balancing the verticality of her figure. The calm sky above softens the tension of the scene, emphasizing the peaceful determination conveyed by her posture and the quiet strength of the crowd.

Sample II: Illustrative Performance by Darlington

The video’s composition hinges on the combination of visual and auditory elements, framed tightly on Darlington’s hands against a clinical setting filled with surgical tools. At the foreground is a flat, cut-out police figure, while its badge, altered to “Reform Us Pls”, serves as the central object, surrounded by three-dimensional tools like a scalpel and forceps. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor, accompanied by Fela Kuti’s “Authority Stealing”, creates a tense auditory rhythm that perfectly matches the deliberate pace of the brain surgery sequence. The use of Klin detergent and Hypo bleach, ordinary yet strikingly vibrant in color, stands out against the clinical setting. Their application to “clean” the brain creates a satirical twist against the dry paper figure. The extracted items from the brain, like the shiny gin sachet, the black-tip cigarette, a POS machine, and colorful Naira notes, add visual complexity; their varied forms signify layered corruption. Replacement tags like “Integrity” and “Protect the Citizen”, written in clear black on white text, replace the darker extracted ones, signaling a significant shift in tone. The performance ends with the brain being stitched up, the police hat being put back in place, and the monitor’s beeping fading away, merging the narrative through sound and motion.

Sample III: Flag Boy’s Protest Image

The image focuses on Adebanjo’s elevated stance atop the traffic booth, his body forming a vertical statue. He holds two flags—the Nigerian flag (green and white) and the #ENDSARS flag (white with black text)—which wave diagonally across the frame to draw focus. The monochrome palette intensifies this interplay, stripping color to heighten texture with the flags’ fabric ripples against the cloudy sky. In the foreground, a crowd of people faces away from the camera, looking up at Adebanjo. Their dark silhouettes create a horizontal base, balancing his elevated position. The cloudy sky, with its soft shades, adds a calming contrast to the sharp details below. The urban setting, including the traffic booth, traffic light, electric pole, and surroundings, all contribute to the location of the scene in Ikeja, Lagos. The placement of the flags above the crowd further emphasizes their symbolic significance. The green and white of the Nigerian flag represent national identity, while the #ENDSARS flag adds a layer of protest. Together, they create a balance between movement and stillness, making the image both powerful and dynamic.

7.3. Interpretation

Sample I: Protest Image of Aisha Yesufu

Aisha Yesufu’s raised fist embodies the #EndSARS movement’s defiant spirit. This powerful gesture connects to global symbols of resistance, from Civil Rights marches to anti-apartheid protests. This gesture transcends the immediate call to end police brutality, signaling a broader demand for systemic change and an end to state oppression and the inequities that sustain it. At the center of the chaos, Aisha’s strong, steady presence makes her a symbol of collective struggle, inspiring Nigeria’s youth in their fight for justice. The hijab, grounding her in Northern Nigerian Muslim identity, amplifies this defiance, challenging stereotypes about women’s roles and cultural expectations of passivity. Her leadership disrupts patriarchal norms, blending gender, faith, and activism to create a more inclusive vision of resistance. Like the Statue of Liberty, Aisha’s figure—clear and striking against the background—becomes a symbol of hope and freedom. Her image ties Nigeria’s struggle to global human rights movements, showing that the fight for justice knows no borders.

This image not only mobilized protesters but also embodied digital artivism’s multifaceted role in fostering collective identity and resistance. Campos and Simões (2024) highlight that digital platforms serve communicational, creative, and emotional functions, enabling artivists to connect diverse audiences through shared aesthetics and narratives (p. 1859). Yesufu’s protest image, widely shared on Twitter, harnessed these functions by visually articulating defiance, uniting Nigerians across ethnic and social divides, and amplifying victims’ stories. Its global virality, evidenced by millions of retweets and media uptake, aligns with the authors’ notion of digital media as a “virtual public sphere” where artivists build community and challenge hegemonic discourses (p. 1857). By fusing emotional resonance with political critique, the image transformed individual grievances into a collective call for justice, exemplifying digital artivism’s power to reshape public sentiment and drive socio-political engagement (Campos and Simões 2024).

Sample II: Illustrative Performance by Darlington

Darlington uses the metaphor of brain surgery to represent the #EndSARS movement’s demand for deep, internal change within the Nigerian Police Force (NPF). The surgery, performed on a police figure with a badge that says “Reform Us Pls”, symbolizes the need to remove deeply rooted corruption and impunity. It suggests that surface-level changes will not fix a system that is fundamentally broken. By targeting the then Inspector General of Police (IGP) as the main figure, Darlington criticizes the leadership for allowing abuses like extrajudicial killings and extortion to continue. The removal of objects like gin, cigarettes, and POS machines, and their replacement with tags like “Integrity” and “Protect the Citizen”, show a vision for a complete ethical overhaul. This aligns with the movement’s call for accountability and a police force that serves the public, not just the powerful. The satirical use of detergents and Fela Kuti’s “Authority Stealing” infuses the work with biting commentary, amplifying its resonance as artivism. Through this performance, Darlington captures the protesters’ shared hope for a transformed police force, using theatricality to provoke and inspire reform.

Sample III: Flag Boy’s Protest Image

Adebanjo’s act of standing atop the police booth, firmly holding the Nigerian flag and the #EndSARS flag amid chaos, melds patriotism with defiance, redefining national symbols amid protest chaos. The flags wave against a monochrome sky, representing ideals like freedom and unity, yet highlighting the harsh reality of police violence. Standing on the “POLICE” structure, he directly challenges the force’s authority. His elevated position makes his act even more powerful—a bold reclaiming of space. Like the famous 1989 Tiananmen Square protester, he stands alone unshaken, making it a symbol of the courage Nigerian youth show in their fight for change. The black-and-white filter strips the image to its raw emotion, making the moment feel timeless. Captured just days before the Lekki massacre, this scene carries deep significance. The flags, watched by the crowd below, shift from national symbols to banners of resistance, reflecting a hope for justice and a better Nigeria. Adebanjo’s calm resolve amid the chaos embodies the resilience of the movement and its determination for real change.

The Flag Boy photograph reimagines national identity to amplify #EndSARS resistance, embodying digital artivism’s creative and political potency. Campos and Simões (2024) frame digital artivism as subverting dominant narratives through aesthetic innovation on platforms like Twitter, fostering global engagement (p. 1857). By recasting the Nigerian flag—a state symbol—as a protest icon, the image crafts a defiant visual language, aligning with the authors’ view of digital media as a creative experimentation space (p. 1860). Its viral spread on Twitter, reaching millions, facilitated a virtual community of supporters, echoing Campos and Simões’ note on digital media’s role in multiplying connections around shared causes (p. 1860). Blending emotional resonance with critique, the photograph challenged police brutality and sparked collective pride, illustrating digital artivism’s fusion of creativity and activism to globalize localized struggles (Campos and Simões 2024).

7.4. Judgement

Sample I: Protest Image of Aisha Yesufu

Victor Odiba’s photograph of Aisha Yesufu excels aesthetically for its striking visuals and balanced composition. The high-contrast silhouette of her raised fist against the background, paired with the simplicity of her plain hijab, crafts a visually arresting image that commands attention. This clarity gives the photo a strong emotional impact, evoking feelings of defiance and solidarity, and making it a lasting symbol of the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$-Sókè movement. The image spread widely on social media, with many comparing it to the Statue of Liberty. This highlights its effectiveness as a defining visual of the movement, capturing its urgency and aspiration in a single frame. By centering Aisha, a Muslim woman from Kano defying gendered norms, the image mobilizes diverse support, amplifying marginalized voices and fostering intersectional solidarity. As Lippard points out, artivism combines provocation and compassion to inspire both action and reflection (cited in Aladro-Vico et al. 2018, p. 10). This photo does just that, reflecting both the external struggle for justice and the inner resilience of those involved. It has encouraged hesitant young people to join the movement. Its lasting impact comes from connecting individual courage with collective struggle, making it a key force for social change in Nigeria.

Sample II: Illustrative Performance by Darlington

Darlington’s performance piece masterfully merges theatrical precision with sharp satire, creating an immersive critique of systemic police corruption. The clinical setting, layered with the rhythmic beeping of an ECG monitor and Fela Kuti’s song “Authority Stealing”, draws viewers into its grotesque metaphor: a brain surgery that literalizes the extraction of institutional rot. The meticulous brain surgery sequence, from scalp disinfection to the replacement of a “corrupt” brain module, serves as vivid imagery and symbolism for the urgent need of profound systemic reform. As Fuller observes, effective protest art thrives on layered symbolism that compels audiences to interrogate power structures (cited in Alimen et al. 2023, p. 43). Darlington’s work epitomizes this, using surgical imagery to literalize the “disease” of police brutality while proposing radical “treatment” through societal reckoning. The video’s opening warning—“Stop the Killings”—immediately frames the narrative as a call to action, forcing viewers to confront the lethal consequences of state impunity. Shared virally across platforms, the piece amplified the #EndSARS movement’s central demand: accountability as a non-negotiable cure.

The video’s rapid dissemination on Twitter exemplifies how digital platforms expand artivism’s reach and impact. Campos and Simões (2024) highlight how social media democratizes dissent, enabling artivists to bypass traditional gatekeepers and forge global solidarity networks (p. 1859). Darlington’s video, marked by thousands of shares and comments, leveraged Twitter’s algorithmic virality to engage both Nigerian protesters and international allies, illustrating digital artivism’s role in constructing transnational communities of resistance (p. 1860).

The performance’s subversive humor, which is a hallmark of effective satire, enhanced its appeal while delivering a scathing indictment of corruption. This reflects what Campos and Simões term the “creative function of digital artivism”, where aesthetic innovation amplifies political messages (p. 1861). By sparking dialogue on police accountability, the performance not only promoted reform but also empowered viewers to confront systemic issues, demonstrating digital artivism’s capacity to transform passive consumption into active participation (Campos and Simões 2024).

Darlington’s work adds to the movement’s collection of powerful art, demonstrating how art can simplify complex issues into clear, impactful stories that inspire conversation and drive change.

Sample III: Flag Boy’s Protest Image

The photograph of Flag Boy is powerful because of its simple, clean composition and monochrome tones. Adebanjo’s solitary figure atop the police booth, holding flags high, contrasts sharply with the crowd below, creating a striking focal point that blends stillness with motion. It captures both the pride in the resilience of young protesters and the sadness over the violence they are fighting against. The emotional depth of the photo makes it unforgettable, and the black-and-white filter gives it a timeless, serious feel. Shared widely on social media with #EndSARS hashtags, the image helped raised awareness and rally support, turning national flags into symbols of resistance. As Aladro-Vico et al. (2018, p. 12) point out, artivism disrupts conventional communication structures by invading public and social spaces, employing unconventional means to provoke thought and action. Adebanjo’s silent, flag-bearing pose does exactly that, speaking volumes without words. The act became a rallying means for the movement, keeping hope alive for systemic change. It stands as a powerful example of how protest art can inspire and unite people.

8. Conclusions: Ar(c)tivism as a Beacon of Defiance

This study critically analyzed selected artworks from the S$\grave{ọ}$r$\grave{ọ}$ -Sókè protests, achieving its aim to explore how creative expressions amplified protesters’ voices and encouraged hesitant young people to join the movement. Through evocative symbols and shared experiences, these works—Aisha Yesufu’s defiant photograph (Figure 3), Darlington’s theatrical performance (Figure 4), and Adebanjo’s flag-bearing image (Figure 5)—are rooted in justice, resistance, and collective resolve; they elevated the movement’s demands for justice and reform, unveiling the authentic aspirations of Nigerians for an end to police brutality and resonating with audiences both locally and globally.

Artivism propelled the #EndSARS movement, amplifying its call for justice with vivid clarity and urgency. Each artwork, distinct in form, unified around themes of resilience, solidarity, and systemic reform, elevating the movement’s visibility and emotional resonance. Aisha Yesufu’s raised fist, set against Abuja’s protests, radiated defiance, her hijab framing a bold challenge to gender norms and broadening inclusivity. Shared widely on X, the image—likened to global icons of liberty—ignited youth activism, ranking among Nigeria’s top-trending photos of 2020 (Ripples Nigeria 2021). Its glaring power galvanized diverse supporters, embodying digital artivism’s role in mobilizing collective action (Campos and Simões 2024).

Similarly, Flag Boy’s solitary stance atop a police booth, with flags, merged patriotism with protest. This piece is a powerful emblem of courage that amplified the cause across social media and rallied global solidarity during and after the 2020 #EndSARS protests. Flag Boy’s documented engagements solidified his status as an icon in the fight for justice (Abass 2021). Darlington’s video, with its surgical metaphor, visualized the urgent need for police reform; its theatrical critique resonated widely online and reinforced the protesters’ call for accountability.

Collectively, these artworks reflected a society confronting threats to its safety and moral core, serving as potent rallying points that mobilized Nigerians and heightened international awareness of the human cost of police violence. Their aesthetic strength—contrast, symbolism, and theatricality—intensified their emotional and political resonance, sustaining the movement’s momentum and raising consciousness on police brutality’s human toll. Beyond documentation, they inspired action, embodying artivism’s dual role as resistance and renewal, as Lippard suggests, both outward provocation and inward reflection (cited in Aladro-Vico et al. 2018, p. 10); here, these pieces inspired continued engagement and solidarity, amplifying the voices of a generation.

This research affirms artivism as an indispensable tool for challenging oppressive systems and amplifying justice-seeking narratives. The #EndSARS artworks united diverse citizenries, informed global audiences, and catalyzed transformative discourse, demonstrating art’s power to sustain struggles for reform. Through their enduring impact, they highlight the resilience of Nigerian youth, capturing their fight in visually and emotionally compelling forms. As a beacon of defiance, artivism not only elevated the #EndSARS cause but also offers a model for how creative resistance can amplify demands for change, bridging individual expression to collective action.