A closer look at the demolition of Makoko sheds light on Lagos’ housing policies and what it means for the residents.
When communities are displaced, the first people who are affected are rarely abstract. Women lose their safety net, their homes and the networks that sustain households and communities. Children lose proximity to familiarity, schools, life as they know it, and stability. Safety becomes uncertain long before explanations of housing policies arrive.
The demolition of Makoko — a waterfront settlement that has existed for generations — sits at the intersection of an attempt to build a new future and the displacement of hundreds of Nigerians. While the demolition itself occurred in late 2025 and early 2026, its relevance lies in what it reveals about the governance of urban life, housing provision, and how the city manages informal settlements as they continue to expand.
We’ve outlined what happened during the demolition of Makoko, examining the settlement’s long and complex relationship with government authorities, and we consider what it suggests about the future of housing in Lagos State.
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What happened during the demolition of Makoko?
In late December 2025, the Lagos State Government commenced demolition activities in parts of Makoko, citing public safety concerns related to structures built under high-tension power lines and within restricted waterfront areas. Government officials described the exercise as an enforcement of existing physical planning and environmental regulations.
As the demolition continued into January 2026, residents and civil society organisations reported that the scope of the exercise extended beyond the initially identified areas. According to community leaders and civil society groups, the state government had initially communicated that it would restrict the exercise to a 30-metre setback from high-tension power lines for public safety.
However, reports from the field indicate that the demolition has extended beyond 100 metres into the residential core of the waterfront. According to housing advocates, residential buildings, schools, churches, and informal health facilities were demolished, including structures residents believed fell outside the agreed safety corridors.
Estimates from non-governmental organisations suggest that more than 10,000 residents across Makoko and neighbouring Oworonshoki were displaced, with thousands of structures demolished. The Lagos State Government has not released any independently verified consolidated displacement figure.
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Immediate outcomes of the demolition
Global media often reduces Makoko to a label: Africa’s largest floating slum.. But this framing obscures what Makoko actually is — a living, constantly adapting urban ecosystem that predates modern Lagos. For generations, it has been home to fishing communities whose architecture evolved in response to water, climate, and economic survival.
Following the demolition of Makoko, displaced residents sought temporary shelter in nearby communities, religious centres, makeshift structures, and in some cases, boats along the lagoon. Fishing, petty trading, and waterfront access livelihoods experienced disruption.
During the demolition, advocacy groups and community leaders documented cases of interrupted schooling, suspended immunisation services, and increased exposure to health and safety risks, particularly for children and older residents. At least three deaths — including two infants and a 70-year-old woman — have been linked to these demolitions, through chaotic evacuations, stress, or lack of medical access.
The Lagos State Government stated that it made relief support and stipends available to affected residents. Reports by Take It Back Movement, a human-rights group, show that the state government is paying compensation to verified homeowners. Amounts range from 300,000 to 5 million naira, depending on the type of home. However, some residents and advocacy groups dispute the adequacy, reach, and transparency of the offered assistance.
Gendered and generational impacts of displacement
Across urban displacement contexts, women and children are consistently identified as among the most affected groups following forced evictions and demolitions. This pattern is not unique to the demolition of Makoko, but it provides important context for understanding the longer-term social impact of such actions.
One of the most immediate effects of demolition without structured resettlement is economic disruption. Dismantling trading networks, home-based businesses, and community childcare arrangements — frequently organised and sustained by women — historically heightens women’s vulnerability. Loss of proximity to markets and customers can result in rapid income decline, while caregiving responsibilities increase as households adjust to unstable living conditions.
These economic pressures often intersect with the experiences of children. Displacement commonly leads to interruptions in education, healthcare, and daily routines. Following past demolitions, urban centres have recorded increased school dropout rates — particularly among the girl-child, longer commuting distances to schools, and delays in immunisation and access to healthcare. Where housing insecurity persists, displacement has also been associated with psychological stress in children.
Besides economic and educational impacts, displacement raises documented security concerns. Women and girls living in temporary shelters, overcrowded spaces, or open environments face increased exposure to harassment and gender-based violence. Such incidents are frequently underreported and insufficiently investigated, particularly in the absence of formal shelter arrangements and protection mechanisms.
Over time, the loss of a familiar environment combined with economic stress within households can increase children’s vulnerability to child labour.
Taken together, these outcomes suggest that the full social consequences of displacement — especially for women and children — remain insufficiently addressed within broader urban planning and housing policy discussions.
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Government interventions, warnings, and historical precedent
Makoko is one of the oldest informal settlements, with origins tracing back more than a century, even before the existence of Lagos as a state. Despite its longevity, Makoko has existed in a state of legal ambiguity. Although successive governments have periodically regulated it, they have never formally integrated it into Lagos’ urban planning framework.
This has resulted in intermittent government interventions, including surveys, partial demolitions, threatened evictions, and proposed redevelopment plans that were never fully realised. In 2012, a large-scale demolition attempt in Makoko attracted international attention and criticism, prompting the Lagos State Government at the time to suspend further action and initiate limited engagement with community leaders.
Since then, the state government has reported sending multiple evacuation notices and warnings over several years, particularly concerning waterfront setbacks and power infrastructure. Government authorities argue that these notices demonstrate long-standing intent and adequate warning. However, critics argue that while notices were issued, timelines were often unclear, enforcement inconsistent, and resettlement arrangements insufficient.
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Government procedures and position on the demolition
The Lagos State Government has consistently framed the demolition of Makoko as a safety-driven and regulatory exercise. Officials maintain that structures built near high-tension power lines and unregulated waterfront zones pose significant risks to life and infrastructure.
Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu also stated that the government is acting within its mandate to enforce planning laws and protect public safety, while accusing some non-governmental organisations of exaggerating the scale and intent of the demolition for advocacy or funding purposes.
The government has highlighted ongoing housing projects across Lagos as evidence of its efforts to address housing supply challenges. However, these projects do not specifically serve Makoko’s displaced residents.
What the demolition of Makoko means for Lagos housing policy
Makoko is not an anomaly. It follows a long and painful history of forced evictions in Lagos — from Maroko in the 1990s to Otodo-Gbame in 2017, Oko-Baba and Ayetoro in 2024, and more recently, Oworonshoki in 2025. In each case, low-income communities are evacuated in the name of urban renewal. However, replacement housing consistently fails to materialise and make up for the damage caused to these residents’ lives. Waterfront land, once cleared, often re-emerges as commercial or luxury real estate.
Makoko’s demolition reopens a central policy question: where do displaced residents go? The city faces a severe housing deficit estimated in the millions, driven by rapid urbanisation, rising land values, and a limited supply of affordable housing. The question is no longer whether Lagos is developing. It is whether it is developing equitably. The city expands — but only upward and outward for those who can afford it.
The former Minister of Education, Oby Ezekwesil, argued that demolition-led urban management, when not accompanied by clear resettlement strategies, does not reduce housing demand. Instead, displaced residents often relocate to other informal settlements, extending rather than resolving the housing challenge.
Housing analysts also note that many state-led housing developments remain financially inaccessible to low-income earners, who constitute a significant portion of Lagos’ population. As a result, informal settlements continue to function as the primary housing option for millions of residents.
Presently, there is no publicly detailed, Makoko-specific resettlement plan outlining where displaced residents will be housed or how livelihoods will be preserved. Critics argue that without such frameworks, demolitions risk deepening housing insecurity rather than addressing its root causes.
Broader implications for Lagos as a megacity
The demolition of Makoko reflects broader tensions faced by rapidly growing megacities, where informal housing expands faster than formal planning and housing supply.
Supporters of strict regulatory enforcement argue that safety, environmental protection, and infrastructure management require decisive action. Critics counter that enforcement without parallel investment in affordable housing and community integration risks perpetuating cycles of displacement.
Lagos’ future development depends not only on physical infrastructure and regulation. It also relies on how effectively the city incorporates its low-income residents into long-term housing and urban planning strategies. The demolition of Makoko, therefore, stands less as an isolated incident and more as a case study in how Lagos negotiates growth, governance, and inclusion.
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