Lagos State and its Anti-People Policies: Development at What Cost?

Lagos State has long positioned itself as Nigeria’s economic powerhouse, a megacity striving toward global recognition. Yet beneath the gleaming billboards advertising its smart city aspirations lies a troubling pattern: policies that prioritize aesthetics over the welfare of the city’s residents. Last week, the familiar roar of bulldozers echoed through Makoko, the sprawling waterfront settlement often called the “Venice of Africa.” Videos circulating online showed clouds of tear gas dispersing terrified residents, structures collapsing into the lagoon, families scrambling to salvage what little they could carry. What the footage didn’t show was the alternative housing arrangements for the displaced, because there were none.

This wasn’t  Makoko’s first encounter with state-sanctioned demolition. The community has faced similar evictions repeatedly over the past decade, each justified with familiar rhetoric about illegality, environmental concerns, and urban renewal. What remains consistent is the absence of resettlement plans or compensation for those who lose everything. The pattern reveals a flaw in Lagos State’s approach to urban development: the poor are treated as obstacles to progress rather than citizens deserving of inclusion in the city’s future.

In what officials frame as efforts to “restore order” and “ sanitize” the city, Lagos State has intensified its crackdown on street begging and homelessness. Recent videos have captured enforcement officers arresting destitute individuals, including children—one viral clip showed a crying child being hauled away by officials who insisted they were maintaining public decorum. The Lagos State Prohibition of Begging and Destitute Persons Law treats visible poverty as a criminal offense punishable by fines or rehabilitation in government facilities. If begging is outlawed without addressing the socioeconomic conditions that drive people to the streets, where exactly are Lagos’s most desperate citizens supposed to go?

Homelessness in Lagos is the endpoint of systemic failures. Arresting homeless people without providing affordable housing or alternatives is simply moving the problem out of sight, not solving it. Lagos’ infrastructure tells you clearly who it was designed for: those who can afford vehicles. For the millions who navigate the city on foot, daily life is a gauntlet of hazards. Sidewalks, where they exist at all, are broken or occupied by commercial activities and parked vehicles. The few pedestrian bridges scattered across Lagos are poorly lit, unmonitored structures that have become havens for criminals. Faced with the choice between potential assault overhead or vehicular hazards below, many pedestrians choose the roadways. It’s a grim calculus, and the fact that citizens regularly deem highway-dodging safer than using designated crossings reveals everything wrong with the infrastructure. Yet, enforcement officers arrest jaywalkers without fixing the problem that would make anyone choose scaling oncoming traffic over bridges built expressly to keep them safe.

For a state with an Environmental Protection Agency and regular sanitation exercises, Lagos remains stubbornly filthy. Mountains of refuse pile up in neighborhoods across the metropolis. Drainage channels are clogged with plastic and waste, contributing to the flooding that paralyzes the city with each heavy rain. The Lagos State Waste Management Authority (LAWMA) and the Private Sector Participation in refuse collection were meant to transform the city’s sanitation. Yet collection remains irregular in many areas, particularly lower-income neighborhoods. 

Perhaps most concerning is the manner in which government officials engage with ordinary Lagosians. There’s a pervasive attitude of contempt. Viral videos regularly show state officials—from LASEPA to the Lagos State Traffic Management Authority (LASTMA)—interacting with residents in ways that suggest power over people. This isn’t about incidents of individual officers behaving badly. It reflects a governance philosophy where citizens, particularly poor ones, are problems to be managed, controlled, and when necessary, removed. 

Lagos State has ambitious plans, which aren’t inherently bad. Cities must develop. But development that displaces without relocating, and criminalizes poverty without addressing its roots; prioritizes vehicles over pedestrians, and treats vulnerable citizens as nuisances rather than people deserving dignity, is fundamentally anti-people. True urban development shouldn’t just build infrastructure; it should also build equity. Until Lagos State policies reflect that understanding, the bulldozers, the arrests, and the displacement will sadly continue, and so will the growing chasm between the city’s ambitions and its soul.