Nigeria's Endangered Megacity: Lagos's Leaders Profit While Its Buildings Fall

 

The Lagos State government has turned a blind eye to the repeated building collapses, proving that corruption, not construction, is the city's strongest foundation. In plain terms, every collapsed building in Lagos is a gravestone for the victims of government negligence and systemic corruption, yet the officials responsible walk free.

In Lagos, it seems that buildings aren't the only things that are constructed poorly—so too are the systems meant to keep them upright. The tragedy of Lagos's collapsing structures is no mere accident; it's the inevitable result of corruption embedded in every brick of the city's architecture. The situation is dire, with a building collapsing almost every two weeks this year, yet the only thing that remains steadfast is the impunity that allows such disasters to continue unabated. The system is a blueprint for failure, a tragic irony in a city where regulations exist on paper but crumble in practice.

The term "building-collapse capital of Nigeria" might seem hyperbolic, but it's an unfortunate truth for Lagos. Over the past 12 years, at least 90 buildings have fallen, burying more than 350 lives under the rubble. These deaths are not just numbers; they are a damning indictment of a government that has failed to protect its citizens. When a 21-story luxury building in Ikoyi collapsed in 2021, killing 42 people, the horror wasn't just in the loss of life but in the sheer predictability of it. This wasn't a freak accident; it was the result of a corrupt system that allows unqualified contractors to cut corners without fear of repercussions.

Lagos has all the trappings of a functioning regulatory system—on the surface. There are agencies like the Lagos State Physical Planning Permit Authority (LASPPPA) and the Lagos State Building Control Agency (LASBCA), supposedly tasked with approving construction plans and ensuring that buildings are safe. The Standards Organisation of Nigeria (SON) is meant to ensure that only quality materials are used in construction. Yet, when buildings keep collapsing, it becomes clear that these agencies are little more than paper tigers, roaring with regulations but utterly toothless in enforcement.

The collapse of the Ikoyi building should have been a wake-up call. An investigation was launched, a report was prepared, and recommendations were made. But here we are, nearly three years later, and that report remains under lock and key with the Lagos State Governor. Why? Because to release it would be to acknowledge the government's own culpability. Even the coroner, in a rare moment of judicial clarity, didn't mince words, blaming the collapse on government negligence. Yet, despite this damning judgment, no one has been held accountable. The report gathers dust, the recommendations remain unimplemented, and the cycle of collapse and death continues.

The scale of this tragedy is amplified by Lagos's rapid growth. With a population exceeding 20 million, the demand for housing and commercial property has created a frenzied construction environment. Yet, the system hasn't scaled to meet the demand. LASBCA has a mere 300 inspectors and supervisors for a city that should have thousands. This understaffing isn't just a logistical issue; it's a fatal flaw. Each of Lagos's 57 local government areas should have at least 100 inspectors, but instead, they are left woefully unmonitored, a fact that unscrupulous contractors exploit with deadly efficiency.

Corruption is the mortar that binds these systemic failures together. Inspectors are bribed to look the other way, fake certificates are issued, and substandard materials are allowed to flood the market. It's no secret that political influence shields the guilty. A Lagos state politician, speaking anonymously, confirmed that connections to power are an all-access pass to immunity. Even when violations are identified post-collapse, there are no prosecutions. The rich and well-connected are untouchable, free to continue their deadly business as usual.

The result is a city where the only thing that collapses more frequently than buildings is the hope that things might ever change. The Lagos State Emergency Management Agency has already recorded 19 building collapses this year, and the number is likely to climb higher. And yet, as the head of the Council for the Regulation of Engineering in Nigeria pointed out, the country lacks the resources and expertise to properly investigate these incidents. It's a vicious cycle: corruption leads to poorly constructed buildings, which collapse, leading to more deaths, which are then inadequately investigated due to lack of resources, allowing the corruption to continue unchecked.

In a functioning system, each collapse would be a scandal, a cause for outrage and immediate reform. But in Lagos, it has become routine, a background hum of disaster that no longer shocks. The government offers platitudes and promises but no meaningful action. Meanwhile, the bodies pile up, and the rubble grows higher.

The situation in Lagos is a perfect storm of greed, negligence, and impunity. Regulations exist, but they are ignored. Inspectors are employed, but they are bribed. Reports are written, but they are buried. And through it all, the government, which should be the guardian of public safety, is instead the architect of this ongoing disaster. The real tragedy isn't just the lives lost in these collapses—it's the lives that will continue to be lost because nothing ever changes.

In the end, perhaps the only structure in Lagos that will never fall is the towering edifice of corruption that props up this broken system. And as long as that remains standing, the people of Lagos will continue to live—and die—in its shadow.