Land in Lagos is more than soil and buildings. It is the foundation of livelihoods, shelter, commerce, and cultural heritage. Yet, under Nigerian law, particularly the Land Use Act 1978 (as applicable in Lagos State), all land is vested in the governor to hold in trust for the people.
One of the most debated concepts in this framework is “overriding public interest,” a principle that allows the government to revoke existing rights of occupancy for certain purposes deemed beneficial to the public.
In theory, overriding public interest is a safety valve for societal needs. It covers uses such as urban planning, infrastructure development, public utilities, environmental protection, and resource management.
In Lagos—Nigeria’s economic nerve centre—this often translates into land being acquired for road expansions, mass transit corridors, housing schemes, schools, hospitals, and other public facilities.
However, in practice, it is a concept that sparks both legal and emotional battles. For the landholder, “public interest” can feel like a polite mask for dispossession, especially when acquisition processes are rushed, compensation is inadequate, or communication is poor. For the state, delays in accessing needed land can stall major projects that benefit millions.
The challenge lies in the balance. The law provides that where land title is revoked in the overriding public interest, the holder is entitled to prompt payment of adequate compensation for the unexhausted development and improvements (buildings, crops, and other developments). Yet, disputes often arise over valuation methods, timelines for payment, and the transparency of the process. In Lagos, where land values can skyrocket overnight, delays in compensation may result in payouts that no longer reflect market realities.
There is also the grey area of defining “public interest.” While a new highway or hospital is easy to classify, acquisitions for projects driven by public–private partnerships (PPPs) or commercial redevelopment often blur the lines. If a community is displaced for a luxury estate marketed to the affluent, can that truly be called overriding public interest? These questions test the ethical boundaries of policy.
To strengthen trust, Lagos needs more than legal provisions. It needs procedural fairness and community engagement. Before any revocation, affected communities should be meaningfully consulted, not merely notified. Compensation should reflect not just the physical improvements, but also livelihood disruptions and relocation costs. Independent valuation, clear timelines, and grievance redress mechanisms should be standard.
Furthermore, technology can help. Publishing acquisition notices, project justifications, and compensation schedules online would promote transparency and allow public scrutiny. In a city where rumours spread faster than official statements, proactive disclosure is the antidote to suspicion.
Overriding public interest should be a shield for collective good, not a sword for unchecked power. In Lagos, where the pressure for land will only intensify, the government’s ability to wield this power fairly will define whether development is seen as progress or displacement. The law grants the authority; wisdom and fairness must guide its use.
Credit:The Guardian