At a political rally in Uyo on November 6, 2026, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu sought to ridicule Peter Obi over erosion in Anambra State. “In Anambra State, he could not confront erosion. I, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, confronted the Atlantic Ocean,” he declared triumphantly. The statement was intended to showcase his leadership credentials. Unfortunately, Tinubu chose the wrong water problem to celebrate.
For a man who governed Lagos for eight years and whose political establishment has dominated the state for nearly 27 years, providing safe, treated, pipe-borne water to ordinary Lagosians would have been a far more meaningful accomplishment. Instead, millions of residents of Nigeria’s commercial capital remain without reliable public water supply, one of the most elementary requirements of a modern city.
This raises a fundamental question about how we assess political leadership. Virtually any government with access to public funds can award contracts for roads, bridges and other infrastructure. In a country where inflated contracts and procurement abuses are recurring concerns, the monetary value of projects is a particularly questionable measure of achievement. The true test of leadership is the wisdom of its priorities: identifying society’s most pressing needs, allocating resources accordingly and delivering measurable improvements in people’s lives. Impressive monuments cannot substitute for fundamental human needs.
Consider the astonishing figures recently disclosed by the Lagos Water Corporation. In October 2026, the corporation acknowledged that Lagos requires approximately 540 million gallons of water daily, yet its actual average production in 2025 was only 7.21 million gallons, a miserable 1.34% of estimated demand. Even more disturbing, its installed production capacity is approximately 210 million gallons daily, meaning that only 3.4% of that capacity was utilised.
These are not opposition propaganda. They are figures from the government’s own water corporation. Although it revised its estimate of residents covered by its distribution network from 1.03% to 8.3%, even the revised figure offers no assurance of regular, safe and dependable supply.
What an indictment of nearly three decades of political continuity!
Predictably, defenders of the Lagos development narrative may attribute this situation to population growth. But historical figures undermine that excuse. Metropolitan Lagos grew from approximately 762,000 residents in 1960 to 1.41 million in 1970, an increase of 85.4%. Population growth was approximately 82% in the 1970s and 85.2% in the 1980s, declining to 52.8% in the 1990s, 43.4% in the 2000s and 37.6% in the 2010s.
Although the population increased, its percentage growth generally slowed after 1990. Lagos did not suddenly become a megacity overnight. Indeed, Lagos Water Corporation’s records confirm that, as far back as 1979, the state government received a study projecting water requirements through the year 2000. Population growth was therefore not merely foreseeable; it had already been incorporated into infrastructure planning.
I speak from personal experience. I grew up in Ebute Metta, a modest, largely lower-middle-income neighbourhood of Lagos. We were raised with pipe-borne water. Where water did not run directly into homes, public taps were generally available nearby. Treated public water was not a luxury reserved for the affluent. When Alhaji Lateef Jakande became governor in 1979, his administration expanded water infrastructure, initiating ten mini-waterworks across the state.
Historical records indicate that approximately 47% of metropolitan Lagos residents had access to public potable water in 1985, albeit at reduced service levels. Although that measure differs from today’s estimated 8.3% distribution-network coverage, the contrast raises a disturbing question: How did Lagos move from expanding public water access to a situation where the overwhelming majority of residents cannot rely on it?
Lagos established its first public waterworks at Iju in 1910, over a century ago. It also possesses established freshwater sources, including the Ogun River system. Providing treated water is neither experimental nor some extraordinary scientific achievement. Modern cities routinely treat and distribute water to millions. The challenge is sustaining the infrastructure, maintenance and institutional discipline necessary to make the system work.
Instead, Lagosians have been left to finance an essential service themselves. Those who can afford boreholes drill them. Others purchase water from vendors or depend on sachet water, popularly called pure water. Families already struggling with food prices, rent and transportation must shoulder yet another financial burden.
And here comes perhaps the most revealing demonstration of the government’s priorities. Lagos authorities have also imposed regulatory charges on privately drilled boreholes, particularly those serving businesses. In 2018, the Lagos Chamber of Commerce and Industry protested borehole permit fees, abstraction charges and related levies. Following prolonged opposition, the government waived five years of disputed arrears and reduced certain charges by 75% in 2021.
The controversy resurfaced in 2026 when regulators threatened enforcement against unauthorised boreholes. Following public criticism, the government denied introducing a new borehole tax, insisting it was enforcing existing regulations. Although qualifying household boreholes are exempt from licensing, the fundamental question remains: Should a government that cannot adequately supply public water be so enthusiastic about imposing financial and regulatory burdens on those compelled to provide it themselves? It makes me wonder whether Lagosians will someday be required to pay levies for using generators!
Even the supposed purity of packaged water deserves scrutiny. A February 2026 study published in Scientific Reports, examining 29 sachet-water samples across Lagos, found lead concentrations exceeding WHO limits in 65.5% of samples and arsenic in 51.7%. Although the sample was too small to condemn all sachet water, the findings raise serious questions about water quality and regulatory oversight.
The health consequences extend further. Unsafe drinking water and inadequate sanitation increase exposure to typhoid, cholera and other waterborne diseases. Poor drainage and stagnant water also encourage mosquito breeding, contributing to malaria transmission. The resulting illnesses consume household incomes, cause lost working hours, impose healthcare expenses and, tragically, claim lives. These burdens fall disproportionately on already impoverished citizens.
Then comes another bitter irony. Dependence on sachet water generates enormous quantities of plastic waste, much of it accumulating in streets and drainage channels. Yet citizens face sanitation enforcement and penalties even where refuse collection and disposal facilities are inadequate. Nobody should excuse indiscriminate littering, but government cannot abdicate its responsibilities while punishing citizens for consequences its own service deficiencies help create.
And while Tinubu celebrates conquering the Atlantic, there is another water problem Lagos desperately needs to conquer: flooding. Year after year, heavy rains submerge streets, inundate homes and destroy livelihoods. Inadequate drainage, blocked waterways, uncontrolled development on wetlands and floodplains, and weak planning enforcement compound the effects of intense rainfall and rising sea levels. Indeed, in September 2025, the Lagos State Government suspended reclamation projects over environmental concerns, including increased flooding risks. Surely, conquering water should also mean protecting ordinary citizens from the water that repeatedly invades their homes.
This brings us back to Tinubu’s celebrated conquest of the Atlantic. Coastal protection has legitimate engineering and economic value. But protecting valuable coastal property and creating exclusive developments primarily associated with the wealthiest one per cent cannot substitute for providing essential services to millions of ordinary residents.
The issue is not whether erosion in Anambra deserved attention. Indeed, Obi’s supporters have produced evidence of his administration’s role in advancing the World Bank-supported erosion-management programme. The issue is the standard by which Tinubu asks Nigerians to judge his own performance.
Lagos is frequently presented as Nigeria’s model of modern development. But skyscrapers, luxury estates, reclaimed land and imposing highways do not, by themselves, define a modern city. Modernity must also be measured by the quality of life its infrastructure makes possible for ordinary citizens.
After nearly 27 years of political continuity, Lagosians deserve an accounting of expenditure on public water infrastructure, why existing facilities operate at a fraction of capacity, and when dependable treated water will reach their homes.
Leadership is not ultimately measured by the number, size or cost of contracts awarded, but by the judgment behind the priorities chosen and the measurable benefits delivered to society.
A government may celebrate protecting the Atlantic coastline. But it must also answer for the millions who cannot obtain safe drinking water from a public tap and the communities repeatedly devastated by flooding.
Tinubu may have confronted the Atlantic Ocean. But the water that matters most to ordinary Lagosians remains unconquered.
That is the water problem he should have been talking about.
Dr. Michael Oriade is a lawyer, information technology expert, and public policy analyst based in the United States. He can be reached at ade.oriade@yahoo.com.
On Tue, Nov 10, 2026 at 5:59 AM Michael Ade Oriade <adeoriade@gmail.com> wrote:
ENDTinubu Conquered the Wrong Water
Michael Oriade, Ph.D.
At a political rally in Uyo on November 6, 2026, President Bola Ahmed Tinubu sought to ridicule Peter Obi over erosion in Anambra State. “In Anambra State, he could not confront erosion. I, Bola Ahmed Tinubu, confronted the Atlantic Ocean,” he declared triumphantly. The statement was intended to showcase his leadership credentials. Unfortunately, Tinubu chose the wrong water problem to celebrate.For a man who governed Lagos for eight years and whose political establishment has dominated the state for nearly 27 years, providing safe, treated, pipe-borne water to ordinary Lagosians would have been a far more meaningful accomplishment. Instead, millions of residents of Nigeria’s commercial capital remain without reliable public water supply, one of the most elementary requirements of a modern city.
This raises a fundamental question about how we assess political leadership. Virtually any government with access to public funds can award contracts for roads, bridges, buildings and other infrastructure. Awarding contracts is not evidence of extraordinary intelligence or visionary leadership. Indeed, in a country where inflated contracts, procurement abuses and abandoned projects are recurring concerns, the monetary value of projects is a particularly questionable measure of achievement.
The true test of leadership is the wisdom of its priorities: identifying the most pressing needs of society, allocating scarce resources accordingly, and delivering measurable improvements in people’s lives. A government that builds impressive monuments while neglecting essential services has not necessarily demonstrated superior leadership. It may simply have demonstrated a preference for visible projects over fundamental human needs.
Consider the astonishing figures recently disclosed by the Lagos Water Corporation. In October 2026, the corporation acknowledged that Lagos requires approximately 540 million gallons of water daily, yet its average actual production in 2025 was only 7.21 million gallons. That represents a miserable 1.34% of estimated demand. Even more disturbing, the corporation has an installed production capacity of approximately 210 million gallons daily, meaning that only about 3.4% of that capacity was utilised.
These are not opposition propaganda. They are figures from the state government’s own water corporation.
Although the corporation revised its estimate of residents covered by its distribution network from 1.03% to 8.3%, even the revised figure offers no assurance that those residents receive regular, safe and dependable water.
What an indictment of nearly three decades of political continuity!
Predictably, defenders of the Lagos development narrative may attribute this situation to rapid population growth. But the historical figures undermine that excuse. Historical metropolitan population estimates show that Lagos grew from approximately 762,000 residents in 1960 to 1.41 million in 1970, an increase of 85.4%. The population rose by another 82% during the 1970s and 85.2% during the 1980s. Interestingly, the percentage increases subsequently declined to 52.8% in the 1990s, 43.4% in the 2000s and 37.6% in the 2010s.
In other words, Lagos has experienced sustained, foreseeable population growth for generations, with its rate of expansion generally slowing in percentage terms since 1990. It did not suddenly become a megacity overnight. The very purpose of long-term urban planning is to anticipate such growth and expand essential infrastructure accordingly.There is an even more revealing historical fact. Lagos Water Corporation’s own records acknowledge that, as far back as 1979, the state government received a study projecting the city’s water requirements through the year 2000. Plans to expand water treatment facilities and distribution networks were consequently developed decades ago. Population growth was therefore not merely foreseeable; it had actually been studied and incorporated into infrastructure planning.
Lagos established its first public waterworks at Iju in 1910, more than a century ago. The city also possesses established freshwater sources, including the Ogun River system. Providing treated water is neither an experimental undertaking nor some extraordinary scientific achievement. Modern cities routinely treat and distribute water to millions of residents. The challenge is sustaining the infrastructure, maintenance, financing and institutional discipline necessary to make the system work.
Instead, Lagosians have largely been left to privately finance an essential service. Those who can afford boreholes drill them. Others purchase water from vendors, while many depend on sachet water, popularly called pure water. Households already struggling with food prices, rent and transportation must shoulder an additional financial burden that a functioning public water system would substantially reduce.
And here comes perhaps the most revealing demonstration of the government’s priorities. Not content with leaving residents and businesses to provide their own water, Lagos authorities have also imposed regulatory charges on private boreholes. As far back as 2018, the Lagos Chamber of Commerce and Industry publicly protested borehole permit fees, application fees, abstraction charges and water-treatment levies. In 2021, following prolonged opposition from business organisations, the government agreed to waive five years of disputed arrears and reduce certain borehole-related charges by 75%.
The controversy has resurfaced. In October 2026, the Lagos State Water Regulatory Commission warned that unauthorised boreholes could be sealed and operators prosecuted. Following public criticism, the government insisted it had introduced no new borehole tax and was merely enforcing existing environmental regulations. Admittedly, the law exempts qualifying household boreholes from licensing, and groundwater protection is a legitimate regulatory concern. But the history of charges on commercial water users, coupled with the government’s renewed enforcement threats, raises an uncomfortable question: Should a government that cannot adequately supply public water be so enthusiastic about imposing financial and regulatory burdens on those compelled to provide it themselves?
Even the supposed purity of packaged water deserves scrutiny. A February 2026 study published in Scientific Reports, examining 29 sachet-water samples collected across Lagos, found lead concentrations exceeding WHO limits in 65.5% of samples and arsenic in 51.7%. Although the limited sample cannot establish that all sachet water is unsafe, the findings raise troubling questions about water quality and regulatory oversight.
The health consequences extend beyond potentially contaminated packaged water. Unsafe drinking water and inadequate sanitation increase exposure to typhoid, cholera and other waterborne diseases. Poor drainage and stagnant water can also encourage mosquito breeding, contributing to malaria transmission. The consequences include preventable illness, loss of productive working hours, healthcare expenditure and, tragically, deaths. These costs fall disproportionately on citizens already struggling to survive.
Then comes another bitter irony. Residents compelled to depend on sachet water generate enormous quantities of plastic waste. Discarded sachets accumulate in streets, gutters and drainage channels, contributing to Lagos’s environmental problems. Yet citizens face sanitation enforcement and penalties even where refuse collection and disposal facilities are inadequate or unreliable.
Nobody should excuse indiscriminate littering. But what kind of governance leaves citizens to provide their own drinking water, fails to establish adequate waste-management systems, and then concentrates on punishing them for the resulting environmental disorder? Government cannot abdicate its responsibilities while demanding perfect compliance from those bearing the consequences of its shortcomings.
This brings us back to Tinubu’s celebrated conquest of the Atlantic. Coastal protection is certainly important, and the Eko Atlantic development has legitimate engineering and economic objectives. But the conception of a coastal project, or the construction of an imposing seawall, cannot substitute for providing basic services to the wider population. One protects valuable coastal property; the other directly affects the health, dignity and daily survival of millions of people.
The issue is not whether erosion in Anambra deserved attention, nor does Tinubu’s accusation establish what Obi did or failed to do about it. The issue is the standard by which Tinubu asks Nigerians to judge his own performance.
Lagos is frequently presented as Nigeria’s model of modern development. But skyscrapers, luxury estates, reclaimed land and imposing highways cannot, by themselves, define a modern city. A modern city must provide essential public services that improve the quality of life of its residents, regardless of their economic circumstances.
After nearly 27 years of political continuity, Lagosians deserve an explanation of why the public water system produces barely 1.34% of estimated daily demand, why existing facilities operate at a fraction of installed capacity, and what successive administrations have achieved with the resources allocated to this essential service.
Leadership is not ultimately measured by the number, size or cost of contracts awarded, but by the judgment behind the priorities chosen and the measurable benefits delivered to society.
A government may legitimately celebrate protecting the Atlantic coastline. But it must also answer for the millions of people who cannot obtain safe, treated water from a public tap.
Tinubu may have confronted the Atlantic Ocean. But the water that matters most to ordinary Lagosians remains unconquered.
That is the water problem he should have been talking about.
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