Housing Crisis: How Legal Loopholes, Corrupt Elites, and Government Inaction Fuel a False Land Ownership Boom
Housing Crisis: How Legal Loopholes, Corrupt Elites, and Government Inaction Fuel a False Land Ownership Boom
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Housing Crisis: How Legal Loopholes, Corrupt Elites, and Government Inaction Fuel a False Land Ownership Boom |
By Daniel Okonkwo:
In a country grappling with an alarming housing deficit, the sight of sprawling estates and vacant luxury buildings in Abuja’s most exclusive districts is a painful irony. While millions of Nigerians struggle to find affordable homes, thousands of properties remain unoccupied—some for over two decades.
A common urban myth, whispered among those familiar with Nigerian land law, claims that if a person occupies an abandoned property for 12 years without interference, they can legally claim ownership. This belief is partially grounded in truth. The Limitation Act of 1966 sets a 12-year limitation period within which a landowner must reclaim possession or risk losing their legal rights through adverse possession.
However, the application of adverse possession in Nigeria is anything but simple. For a claim to succeed, certain legal conditions must be strictly met:
The possession must be visible enough to put the rightful owner on notice continuous occupation must be uninterrupted for 12 years.
The squatter must control the property like an owner, excluding others. The occupation must be without the consent or agreement of the original owner.
These requirements are difficult to meet, and Nigerian courts tend to scrutinize such claims with increasing intensity. With advancements in land registration systems and legal oversight, successful adverse possession cases are rare. More importantly, anyone occupying property without consent risks legal consequences if discovered within the statutory period—trespassing being a key offence.
Thus, while the law theoretically provides a path to ownership through long-term occupation, it is not a strategy that should be pursued casually or without legal counsel.
Beyond the legal gray areas of ownership lies a deeper, more insidious problem—the failure of government land allocation policies and the unchecked greed of certain elites. Across Abuja and other cities, it has become commonplace for influential individuals to acquire vast swathes of land, sometimes amounting to hundreds of hectares, under the guise of developing infrastructure or housing.
These allocations, initially intended to serve the public good, often go undeveloped for years—if not decades. Instead of building for the people, many recipients of such lands hold them as speculative investments or sell them off for massive personal profits. This practice directly contradicts the original intent of land allocations, which is to promote housing, economic activity, and social equity.
Sadly, paying ground rent is often seen as enough to satisfy statutory requirements, despite the failure to build or contribute meaningfully to the urban landscape. This is a betrayal of public trust and a gross abuse of privilege.
The Land Use Act of 1978 was a landmark piece of legislation aimed at unifying Nigeria’s fragmented land tenure systems. By vesting all land in the hands of state governors to hold in trust for the people,
The act sought to simplify land ownership, prevent land speculation, ensure equitable access to land for all Nigerians, and promote effective utilization of land for economic development.
Unfortunately, weak enforcement, corruption, and political patronage have undermined these noble goals. Instead of serving the public, the law has been used to entrench inequality—enabling a few powerful individuals to monopolize land while millions remain landless.
The hoarding of undeveloped land is not just a legal failure—it is a moral atrocity. In Abuja, it has led to a situation where entire communities are denied access to land that was meant to support them. Estates meant to house thousands lie fallow, while citizens are squeezed into overpriced, underdeveloped outskirts. This is the height of man’s wickedness to his fellow man.
One of the most disturbing trends in the capital is the proliferation of vacant luxury properties. In areas like Asokoro, Maitama, Jabi, Wuse 2, and Gwarimpa, it’s not uncommon to see row upon row of multi-million-naira mansions—completely unoccupied.
Why build homes no one lives in?
Investigations and expert reports suggest that many of these properties are tools for money laundering or vehicles for storing illicit wealth. Constructed without the intention of being sold or rented, they serve as covert banks for stolen public funds. Their existence not only distorts the real estate market but also contributes significantly to Nigeria’s housing crisis.
Meanwhile, affordable housing schemes remain underfunded, poorly executed, or riddled with red tape. The masses are left to battle escalating rents and exploitative landlords, while the city’s skyline is dotted with the empty monuments of corruption.
It's time to revoke and reclaim. The Nigerian government—both at the federal and state levels—can no longer afford to turn a blind eye. It is time to revoke allocations where individuals have failed to develop land within the agreed-upon timeframe. Ground rent alone is not a sufficient demonstration of compliance.
Land should be for the people—not for a privileged few. If a property lies unoccupied and unused for more than a decade, especially when it was allocated for public-interest projects, the government must act decisively. Legal provisions should be enforced, new policies introduced, and defaulters held accountable. Without bold action, Abuja’s housing crisis will only deepen, and the dream of homeownership will remain elusive for most Nigerians.
The question of land in Nigeria is not just about ownership—it’s about justice, equity, and national development. The continued misuse, hoarding, and abandonment of land and housing projects are a betrayal of the social contract and a direct attack on citizens’ right to shelter.
Whether through tightening the enforcement of adverse possession laws, revisiting the Land Use Act, or revoking idle allocations, one truth is clear: Nigeria must reclaim its land for its people.
Until then, the housing crisis will rage on—not due to a lack of space, but due to the greed of a few and the silence of the state.
Daniel Okonkwo is a seasoned writer, human rights advocate, and public affairs analyst. He is known for his thought-provoking articles on governance, justice, and social equity. Through Profile International Human Rights Advocate, he continues to spotlight issues affecting Nigeria and beyond, amplifying voices that demand accountability and reform.
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