Obafemi Hamzat and the Lagos State future: Between electoral expediency and governing reality

As the 2027 general election approaches with the inexorable certainty of a tide that waits for no man, there is a familiar rhythm that plays out across the political landscape of Lagos State. The air thickens with promises, the streets swell with campaign paraphernalia, and those who hold power-or seek to-suddenly discover a newfound lenity toward behaviours that, in less politically charged seasons, would invite swift rebuke. Political supporters and cronies, emboldened by the proximity of the ballot, conduct themselves with an impunity that suggests the rules of governance have been suspended. Yet, for all the theatre of electoral politics, one truth remains stubbornly undeniable: the reality that will confront the next government, whether it be that of Dr. Obafemi Hamzat or another, will not be swayed by campaign slogans or the frenzied loyalty of party faithful. 

Dr. Obafemi Hamzat, the Lagos State deputy governor who recently emerged as the All Progressives Congress (APC) governorship candidate with a resounding 657,917 votes against his sole rival’s single vote, stands at the threshold of history as the first deputy governor to secure a governorship ticket in the state. With the endorsement of President Bola Tinubu and Governor Babajide Sanwo-Olu, his path to the pinnacle of Lagos politics appears assured. But the question that must be asked, and asked with the urgency that the moment demands, is whether the machinery of electoral victory can translate into the machinery of effective governance. For the challenges that await are not the stuff of political rhetoric; they are the gritty, unglamorous, and deeply consequential realities of a megacity straining at its seams.

Consider, first, the hydra-headed monster of housing that has turned the Lagos dream into a nightmare for millions. The Lagos State Government has unveiled the Tenancy and Recovery of Premises Bill 2025, a legislative effort to curb arbitrary rent increases, cap advance rent at one year, and limit agency fees to five per cent. The bill also empowers courts to determine whether rent hikes are reasonable by comparing rents in similar locations. On paper, this is commendable progress. But the gap between legislation and lived reality yawns as wide as the Atlantic.

The statistics are staggering. According to June 2026 rental estimates from Statisense, the average annual asking rent for a two-bedroom apartment in Lagos climbed to N8.1 million, representing a 22.7 per cent increase from the previous year. A worker earning the Lagos State minimum wage of N85,000 monthly would need almost eight years of total earnings to afford that single year’s rent. In upscale areas, annual rents for one-bedroom apartments have reached as high as N20.9 million. Residents now spend between 50 and 70 per cent of their income on rent, far above the globally recommended threshold of 30 per cent. One resident of Ajegunle, Ketu, Isolo, Badagry, to mention but a few, saw his rent for a single room rise from N800,000 to N1,500,000 in a single year; when he could not afford it, his landlord told him to move out. This is not a housing crisis; this is a housing catastrophe.

The new tenancy law, however well-intentioned, cannot by itself solve a crisis rooted in a housing deficit estimated at 29 million units nationwide and a population projected to reach 34 million within the next four years. The question for the next government is not whether it can pass laws, but whether it can build homes, and build them at a scale and speed that match the demographic tidal wave.

Then there is the matter of security, or rather, the growing insecurity that has transformed Lagos from Africa’s commercial capital into a theatre of lawlessness. The government has warned celebrities and residents against giving money to “area boys” and street miscreants, arguing that such acts only fuel insecurity. The warning came after a viral video showed touts chasing the convoy of Afrobeats superstar Burna Boy. But the problem runs far deeper than celebrity harassment. Along the Lekki-Epe Expressway, homeless boys and teenagers have been terrorising motorists with harassment, extortion, and assault. Deputy Governor Hamzat has vowed to remove these “car spotters” from the streets, describing their actions as “strictly criminal” and confirming that arrests have been made.

Yet the rot extends beyond street-level thuggery. In August 2026, suspected land grabbers and hundreds of armed thugs invaded Santos Layout, Valley Estate, and adjoining communities in Alimosho, vandalising homes and businesses over a three-day rampage. Residents alleged that about 400 armed thugs stormed the communities, armed with bottles and openly smoking, while police stood by. One resident’s desperate plea captures the depth of the crisis: “We don’t trust the police or the military anymore. They even told us the courts are not sitting now, so what are we supposed to do?”

Infrastructure vandalism has reached epidemic proportions. Scavengers have been caught on CCTV removing iron reinforcements from the pillars of the Alakija-Festac link bridge, compromising its structural integrity. Thirty suspected vandals were recently sentenced to two months’ imprisonment each for vandalising bridges across Lagos. But two months for compromising the safety of thousands of lives? This is not justice; this is a mockery of it. The Lagos State House of Assembly has called for tougher measures, but the question remains: will the next government have the political will to match rhetoric with action?

Perhaps the most troubling dimension of Lagos governance is the cancer of corruption at the local government level-a cancer that has metastasised to the point where democracy itself has become a curse rather than a blessing. The revelations are nothing short of scandalous. A former chairperson of a Local Council Development Area received N512 million from the Federation Account three days before her tenure ended, spent N492 million in 72 hours, and left behind a paltry N20 million for her successor. According to verifiable records, the same LCDA received N4.8 billion in allocation between January and July 2025. A newly built multi-million-naira hotel in Osogbo and a property in Magodo GRA Phase 2 have been linked to this same former chairperson.

The report submitted to the Speaker of the Lagos State House of Assembly paints a damning picture: “The brazen mismanagement of public funds by immediate past and newly elected Local Government chairmen in Lagos State is unparalleled by any Local Government in Nigeria.” There is a disturbing pattern of looting, particularly the diversion of monthly Joint Allocation Committee funds. The report further alleges that management officials buy their postings from the Local Government Service Commission at costs ranging from N5 million to N20 million, with monthly premiums of N2.5 million for “Category A” local governments. One chairman has allegedly embarked on lavish trips to London, Saudi Arabia, and Dubai for “birthday festivities of an urbane Oba,” while another stands accused of siphoning over N2 billion to construct private properties.

In this cesspool of corruption, thugs are appointed as supervisors and senior special assistants. Empowerment programmes are run without transparency or accountability, their records as ambiguous as an elephant’s footprint in a dust storm. The social contract between the government and the governed has been shredded, and in its place we have a system where political patronage trumps public service, where loyalty to party is rewarded with access to the public till, and where the people for whom democracy was supposedly designed are reduced to mere spectators in their own dispossession.

The next government cannot afford to ignore this rot. The question is not whether Dr. Hamzat, if elected, will be complicit in these practices-his record as deputy governor suggests a technocratic disposition-but whether he will have the courage and the political capital to confront a system that has made corruption its operating system. The local government system in Lagos, with its 20 local governments and 37 LCDAs, represents the frontline of governance for millions of residents. If that frontline is manned by looters and their cronies, then the entire edifice of democratic governance is a hollow sham.

Beyond these immediate crises lies the deeper question of infrastructure and the cost of living-the twin pillars upon which the liveability of Lagos rests. Deputy Governor Hamzat has disclosed that the state has spent more than N700 billion on road rehabilitation over the past 15 years. The Lagos State Public Works Corporation has expanded its maintenance gangs from 14 to 34 teams. There are now 9,911 roads across the state requiring regular maintenance. Yet the scale of the challenge far outstrips the resources available. Hamzat himself has acknowledged that available resources remain inadequate compared with the scale of infrastructure needs. The proposed Fourth Mainland Bridge remains on the government’s agenda but requires substantial financial resources.

Transportation, the lifeblood of any megacity, has become a source of daily anguish for millions. BRT fares increased by 13 per cent in 2026, following an 18 per cent increase in February 2025. Commuters lament that these increases came despite modest energy prices. A worker interviewed by BusinessDay noted that her daily transport cost had risen from N900 to N1,300. When transportation consumes such a significant portion of a worker’s income, and when rent consumes 50 to 70 per cent of that same income, the result is a population that is perpetually one crisis away from destitution.

The Nigeria Labour Congress has demanded a minimum wage of N150,000 for Lagos workers, arguing that the current N85,000 is insufficient to cover basic needs. Even a proposed N225,000 minimum wage, some experts argue, may still not be enough given the astronomical cost of housing, transportation, and food in Lagos. This is the arithmetic of survival in Lagos, and it does not favour the ordinary resident.

Then there is the scourge of hard drugs-a crisis that has been allowed to fester while the government focuses on enforcement rather than rehabilitation. The National Drug Law Enforcement Agency has reported that some rehabilitated clients are now excelling academically, and the agency has partnered with organisations to provide skills development. But these efforts remain woefully inadequate compared with the scale of the problem. The question is not merely how to punish offenders but how to rehabilitate them, how to develop skills that can make Lagos self-sufficient and capable of exporting specialised expertise. A society that only punishes without rehabilitating is a society that has given up on redemption-and on itself.

Food and agricultural needs present another frontier of governance failure. The Lagos State Government has unveiled ambitious plans: a N1 trillion food security fund, a N16.14 trillion food economy plan, and a target of 40 per cent food self-sufficiency through the cultivation of over 30,000 hectares of agricultural land. Over 66,000 beneficiaries have received support through various agricultural initiatives. A mid-level agro-produce hub has been unveiled in Agege. Yet the gap between planning and implementation remains vast. Food prices continue to soar, and the dream of food security remains distant for millions who struggle to put three square meals on their tables.

The truth, and we need sincerity that can only be achieved by being truthful to ourselves, is that Lagos is at a crossroads. The election of 2027 will not be a mere transfer of power; it will be a verdict on whether the political class is capable of rising above its self-interest to address the existential challenges confronting the state. Dr. Obafemi Hamzat has promised to “continue to build a Lagos that works for all.” But the path from promise to performance is littered with the debris of broken pledges.

The social contract in Lagos is broken. The people pay taxes, endure daily hardships, and watch as their leaders enrich themselves while the infrastructure crumbles, the rent soars, the miscreants roam freely, and the cost of living becomes a sentence of perpetual struggle. The next government, whether led by Hamzat or another, must recognise that the days of business as usual are over. The people are watching, and they are angry. The 2027 election will not be won by those who merely promise; it will be won by those who have demonstrated the capacity to deliver.

For Lagos to fulfil its promise as Africa’s greatest city, it must first confront its greatest failures. The housing crisis demands not just laws but homes. The security crisis demands not just arrests but a fundamental rethinking of how safety is guaranteed. The corruption crisis demands not just investigations but a systemic cleansing of the local government system. The infrastructure crisis demands not just budgets but the political will to prioritise the needs of the many over the interests of the few.

The question before us is not whether Femi Hamzat will be the next governor of Lagos State; that seems increasingly likely. The question is whether he and those who will govern alongside him have the vision, the courage, and the integrity to confront the hydra-headed monsters that threaten to consume the Lagos dream. The answer to that question will determine not just the future of one man or one administration, but the future of Lagos itself. And that future, dear reader, is a future we cannot afford to leave to chance.