Circular Road vs Makoko: A Tale of Two States, Two Ideologies, and the True Meaning of Development in Nigeria
In contemporary Nigeria, the debate over development is no longer just about infrastructure; it is about how development is pursued, who it serves, and what it costs in human terms. Nowhere is this contrast more visible than in the unfolding stories of the Oyo State Circular Road project under Governor Seyi Makinde and the recurring crises surrounding urban renewal efforts in Makoko, Lagos State. These two cases, though separated by geography, reveal a deeper ideological divide in governance, leadership philosophy, and respect for human dignity.
At its core, development should be about improving lives, expanding opportunity, and building prosperity without erasing humanity. Yet, in Nigeria, infrastructure projects have too often become symbols of exclusion, displacement, and state violence. Against this backdrop, the Oyo Circular Road project has emerged not merely as a transport initiative but as a case study in people-centered governance, while Makoko has once again become a painful reminder of what happens when development is enforced through coercion rather than consent.
Oyo Circular Road: Infrastructure with a Human Face
The Oyo State Circular Road project is one of the most ambitious infrastructure undertakings in the state’s recent history. Designed to decongest Ibadan, improve connectivity, boost commerce, and open up new economic corridors, the project has significant long-term benefits for residents, investors, and commuters alike. However, like all large-scale infrastructure developments, it inevitably affects existing communities, farmlands, and livelihoods.
What distinguishes Governor Seyi Makinde’s approach is not the scale of the project but the method of its execution. From the outset, the Makinde administration emphasized engagement, transparency, and compensation. Rather than treating affected residents as obstacles to be removed, the government recognized them as stakeholders whose lives and futures mattered. Community consultations were held, grievances were documented, and resettlement and compensation frameworks were discussed openly.
This approach aligns with global best practices in infrastructure development, where social impact assessments, stakeholder engagement, and humane resettlement processes are considered essential components of sustainable development. International development institutions consistently stress that projects succeed not only when roads are built, but when trust is built alongside them.
Governor Makinde’s insistence on dialogue over force reflects a deeper understanding of leadership. Power, in this context, is not about intimidation but about responsibility. By choosing negotiation over coercion, the Oyo State government avoided unnecessary conflict, preserved social harmony, and demonstrated that development does not have to come at the expense of human dignity.
Importantly, this was not accidental or cosmetic governance. It was a deliberate policy choice rooted in empathy and political maturity. It showed a governor who understands that legitimacy flows from the people, not from the barrel of a gun or the deployment of armed security forces.
Makoko: Development as Trauma
The situation in Makoko, Lagos State, presents a starkly different narrative. Makoko is not just a community; it is a symbol of Nigeria’s complex urban realities. For decades, it has existed on the margins of Lagos’ rapid expansion—home to thousands of people, a center of informal economic activity, and a subject of numerous studies by local and international organizations examining urban poverty, housing, and resilience.
Yet, whenever “development” is mentioned in relation to Makoko, it is almost always accompanied by fear. Past experiences have conditioned residents to associate government action with demolition, displacement, and violence. These fears were tragically reinforced when residents reportedly encountered armed police, tear gas, injuries, and chaos during recent enforcement actions linked to urban planning and regeneration.
Instead of structured engagement, transparent communication, or phased resettlement plans, the state’s presence manifested as force. Homes were disrupted, livelihoods destabilized, and already vulnerable citizens pushed further into insecurity. This approach reduces development to a blunt instrument, stripping it of its moral and social purpose.
Globally, Makoko has often been cited in academic and policy circles as an example of how informal settlements can be integrated into urban planning through innovation rather than destruction. Floating schools, community-driven mapping, and participatory planning models have all been proposed and, in some cases, piloted. Yet, these ideas repeatedly give way to a default culture of eviction and enforcement.
What makes this particularly troubling is that Lagos State positions itself as Nigeria’s model megacity—a beacon of progress and modernity. However, a city cannot claim global status while repeatedly violating the rights and dignity of its poorest residents. Development achieved through fear is not progress; it is oppression dressed up as urban renewal.
The Silence and Hypocrisy of the Oyo APC
Perhaps the most politically revealing aspect of this contrast is the reaction—or lack thereof—from the All Progressives Congress (APC), particularly in Oyo State. For weeks, the Oyo APC has amplified criticisms of the Circular Road project, framing it as oppressive, insensitive, or poorly conceived. Press statements, social media campaigns, and public rhetoric have been deployed to manufacture outrage.
Yet, when confronted with the violent treatment of Makoko residents by an APC-led government in Lagos, the same voices fall silent. There is no condemnation, no demand for accountability, no expression of solidarity with victims. This selective activism exposes a fundamental lack of principle.
If the concern were truly about the welfare of citizens, then outrage would be consistent, regardless of which party holds power. Instead, what we see is partisan opportunism—criticism weaponized against opponents and silence reserved for allies. This double standard undermines the APC’s moral credibility and reveals that their interest lies not in justice or humane governance, but in power acquisition.
Political parties are ultimately judged not by their slogans but by their actions and their willingness to uphold values even when it is inconvenient. On this score, the contrast could not be clearer.
2027 and the Battle for Oyo’s Soul
As the 2027 elections draw closer, these events take on greater significance. Elections are not merely contests between candidates; they are referendums on governance models. Oyo State stands at a crossroads between two fundamentally different philosophies of leadership.
On one side is a government that prioritizes consultation, dignity, and inclusion—a government that understands development as a shared journey with the people. On the other is a political machine whose dominant blueprint, as seen in Lagos, relies heavily on force, intimidation, and displacement, particularly when dealing with the poor and powerless.
The APC’s strategy appears to rely on distortion: attacking people-centered projects in Oyo while concealing or normalizing authoritarian practices in Lagos. But history has shown that propaganda has limits. Lived experiences eventually cut through political noise.
Governor Makinde’s administration, whatever its imperfections, has demonstrated a consistent pattern of engagement and restraint. By carrying the people along, even in difficult projects, it reinforces democratic norms and strengthens social trust. That trust is an asset no amount of propaganda can easily destroy.
A Choice That Will Echo in History
Ultimately, the comparison between the Oyo Circular Road and Makoko is not just about roads or communities. It is about the kind of society Nigerians want to build. Do we want a country where development is negotiated and humane, or one where it is imposed through fear? Do we value citizens as partners or treat them as expendable?
The choice before Oyo people—and Nigerians more broadly—is indeed simple and clear. One path leads to governance that listens, serves, and protects. The other leads to a system that rules through force, thrives on hypocrisy, and sacrifices human dignity at the altar of power.
History has a long memory. It will remember who spoke up, who stayed silent, and who stood with the people when it mattered most.
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