Why Makoko Could Become Lagos’ Boldest Urban Experiment

The sight of bulldozers advancing into Makoko often triggers an immediate and emotional response. Images of wooden homes collapsing into the lagoon are unsettling, not only because buildings are being destroyed, but because lives, histories and fragile livelihoods are disrupted in the process. Such reactions are neither irrational nor sentimental; they reflect deep-seated anxieties about how power is exercised in Lagos and who ultimately bears the cost of urban transformation.

Yet public policy must operate at the difficult intersection of empathy and responsibility. Makoko represents one of Lagos’ most complex urban dilemmas: how to manage growth, safety, environmental risk and climate vulnerability without reinforcing injustice or deepening social exclusion. The real question is not whether intervention is necessary, but how it is conceived, sequenced and implemented.

Often dubbed the “Venice of Africa,” Makoko occupies a unique place in Lagos’ urban landscape. Tens of thousands of residents live and work on the lagoon, many tracing their roots there across generations. Long before Lagos became a megacity, Makoko’s economy revolved around fishing, boat-building and water transport. Its informality is less a deliberate defiance of law than the result of decades of state absence, weak housing provision and urbanisation that outpaced planning systems.

This context is crucial. Makoko did not emerge in isolation. Its growth reflects broader failures in affordable housing delivery, urban inclusion and coastal management. To define the settlement solely as an illegal encroachment oversimplifies a complex reality and unfairly transfers responsibility onto residents who adapted creatively where formal systems failed.

Government engagement with Makoko has evolved, though not without costly missteps. The 2012 demolition exercises, justified on safety and environmental grounds, were widely criticised for poor consultation, inadequate notice and insufficient resettlement planning. Those actions entrenched distrust between residents and authorities, a legacy that still shapes public perception today.

Between 2013 and 2016, perspectives began to shift. Urban planners, architects, NGOs and international partners increasingly advocated upgrading rather than eradication. Proposals emerged for safer stilt housing, improved sanitation and regulated waterfront zoning. Crucially, these ideas recognised Makoko’s residents as partners, not obstacles, to sustainable planning. However, most initiatives stalled at pilot stages, with limited large-scale implementation.

From 2017 to 2020, Lagos intensified its focus on climate resilience and coastal protection. Informal waterfront settlements were increasingly viewed through the lenses of flood risk, environmental degradation and disaster prevention. These concerns are legitimate: fire outbreaks, drownings, structural collapses and disease outbreaks remain persistent dangers in Makoko. Still, reducing risk does not automatically justify displacement, particularly when safer, in-situ alternatives exist.

Since 2021, Lagos has moved toward a more structured intervention strategy, combining enforcement against new encroachments with redevelopment proposals under the emerging Lagos Water City model. This framework seeks to transform vulnerable waterfront communities into regulated, climate-resilient urban districts aligned with global waterfront development standards.

Within this context, the Water City model offers a chance to reimagine Makoko, not as a problem to be erased, but as a prototype for water-adapted urban living. If pursued inclusively, it could improve residents’ quality of life while reshaping how Lagos confronts climate change and urban pressure.

At the heart of this vision is housing that works with water rather than against it. Upgrading existing stilt homes into safer, flood-resilient structures would reduce seasonal flooding risks while allowing residents to remain within their historic environment. Public health gains would follow. Chronic sanitation challenges have long polluted the lagoon and exposed residents, especially children, to preventable diseases. Integrating modern sanitation and waste management systems would improve health outcomes and restore ecological balance.

Mobility presents another major opportunity. Formal jetties and regulated water transport could provide faster, cheaper access to schools, markets, healthcare and jobs. In a city paralysed by traffic congestion, water-based transport could better connect Makoko to the wider Lagos economy.

Economically, the Water City model could legitimise and expand existing livelihoods. Fishing, aquaculture, canoe-making and boat repairs, already central to survival in Makoko, could be modernised and integrated into Lagos’ growing blue economy. Community-led tourism and waterfront commerce could generate employment without erasing cultural identity.

Execution, however, remains critical. Demolitions carried out ahead of clear, trusted redevelopment pathways risk undermining stated objectives. Where enforcement is not matched by guarantees of rehousing, compensation and livelihood protection, scepticism is inevitable. A Water City cannot be built on uncertainty.

The state is right to regulate land use and safeguard public safety. It is also justified in addressing environmental damage to the lagoon. But authority must be matched with accountability. Regulation without inclusion breeds resistance, not order. Environmental protection should motivate upgrading as much as clearance. Makoko’s sanitation crisis stems from neglect as much as informality, and addressing it requires investment in core urban services, not exclusion.

Globally, experience supports this approach. From Brazil to India and South Africa, informal settlements have been transformed into productive urban districts through partnership rather than force. While such transitions are rarely painless, they succeed when guided by transparency, resident participation and credible commitments to improvement over displacement.

Lagos has taken tentative steps in this direction. Since 2021, the Sanwo-Olu administration has earmarked $2 million for Makoko’s waterfront redevelopment, signalling intent to integrate the community into broader renewal plans. Still, funding alone is insufficient. Trust will only be rebuilt through consistent engagement, transparency and visible successes on the ground.

Makoko’s future need not be defined by demolition footage or protest slogans. It could become one of Lagos’ most important urban experiments—evidence that a megacity can confront informality, climate risk and inequality without defaulting to exclusion. Achieving that vision depends on whether authority is balanced with compassion, and ambition with accountability.

If pursued with patience, genuine consultation and firm protections for residents, the Water City model could transform Makoko into a living laboratory for inclusive, water-based development in Africa. In that future, Makoko would no longer symbolise failure or disorder, but the possibility that Lagos can grow without leaving its most vulnerable communities behind.