Democracy Birthed Our Cities: But Are They Built for Everyone?
Democracy Birthed our Cities: But are They Built for Everyone?
Twenty-five years ago, in 1999, Nigeria transitioned into a new era. Democracy returned with hope, ambition, and a collective yearning for freedom and equity. It wasn't just about political power returning to the people; it was about access to education, to jobs, and perhaps most importantly, to shelter.
For decades before, housing and land ownership in Nigeria were privileges reserved for the elite, dictated by rigid systems and centralised planning that often excluded the everyday citizen. But with democracy came the promise of a shift: a vision that every Nigerian, regardless of class or location, would have the right to live with dignity in a city that worked for them.
Indeed, democracy birthed our cities. Lagos became a megacity of dreams and contradictions. Abuja expanded into a modern capital. Port Harcourt, Enugu, Kano, and Ibadan all changed. Skyscrapers climbed higher, estates sprawled wider, and gated communities became symbols of middle-class progress. But for many, these transformations didn’t translate into real change.
The question remains: Who are these cities built for?
As Nigeria's urban population swells, millions still live in slums, unplanned settlements, and unsafe housing. Informal markets exist side by side with luxury apartments, and many citizens watch from the sidelines as bulldozers clear what little they call home to make way for "modern development."
The gap between the governed and the governing is visible in every cement block that goes up without consultation. Urban planning should be participatory. Cities should reflect the voices, needs, and cultures of the people who live in them. But in too many cases, planning decisions are top-down, influenced by power, proximity, or profit.
And yet, the story isn't all bleak.
Thanks to democracy, housing policy is no longer solely dictated by military decrees. We’ve seen the rise of mass housing initiatives, new mortgage systems, digital land registries, and more active civil society organisations advocating for housing rights. In Lagos, programs like the Rent-to-Own scheme gave middle-class Nigerians a shot at ownership. Across the nation, new voices have entered the arena—urban planners, architects, developers, and youth-led housing movements.
But progress has been uneven.
Democracy gave us tools but not yet the full blueprint. We still struggle with housing deficits, land use corruption, poor building standards, and a lack of inclusivity in planning processes. The path to equitable real estate access remains under construction.
To truly honor 25 years of democracy, we must ask bold questions:
Who gets to live in Nigerian cities, and who gets pushed out?
Are our housing policies inclusive, or are they widening the gap?
How do we ensure that the next 25 years bring cities that are not just built, but built for all?
Democracy is more than voting every four years. It is about visibility, representation, and participation in every part of society, especially in how we build our homes and design our cities.
As we mark Democracy Day, let us challenge ourselves to dream of a new kind of urban Nigeria: one where planning is inclusive, shelter is accessible, and every Nigerian has a say in shaping the city they call home.
Because the right to shelter is not a privilege. It is a fundamental promise of democracy.
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