BY ABADOM LAWRENCE AMECHI
ON MAY 2, 2024, I published an article on this platform titled: “This Expressway May Lead To Nowhere.” In that article, I argued that, considering Nigeria’s prevailing economic challenges, the proposed Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway was a misplaced priority. With an estimated cost of about ₦15 trillion, the project appeared too expensive for a country struggling to meet its most pressing obligations. At a time when insecurity was consuming enormous resources, existing roads had become virtually impassable, and millions of Nigerians were battling economic hardship, I questioned the wisdom of committing such a staggering sum to a new highway.
My argument was simple: if a comprehensive needs assessment had been conducted before the project was conceived, the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway would not have emerged as Nigeria’s number-one infrastructure priority.
The coastal highway has attracted criticism from several Nigerians, including Peter Obi and Donald Duke, who have questioned its priority in the face of the country’s competing infrastructure needs. A central argument against the project is that the federal government ought to have concentrated its resources on rehabilitating existing national and hinterland roads before embarking on a new highway of such enormous financial and technical proportions.
Unfortunately, our political leaders have developed a disturbing appetite for grandiose projects that generate enormous excitement at their inception but are abandoned before completion. Nigeria is littered with such projects, many of which were announced with great fanfare, awarded to contractors, and subsequently abandoned after substantial public funds had been committed. The Mambilla Hydroelectric Power Project, the numerous Independent Power Projects (IPPs) and National Integrated Power Projects (NIPPs), and the Ajaokuta Steel Complex are among the many examples that readily come to mind.
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These abandoned projects are not merely monuments to government failure; they represent lost opportunities, wasted public resources, and the frustration of a nation whose development has been repeatedly held hostage by poor planning, misplaced priorities, and a lack of accountability.
It was against this background that many of us expressed reservations about the coastal highway. Our apprehension was not necessarily rooted in an aversion to development or an unwillingness to acknowledge the government’s good intentions. Rather, it was informed by the bitter lessons of history. Nigeria’s political class has repeatedly demonstrated an unfortunate inability to translate ambitious infrastructure announcements into completed projects that deliver tangible benefits to citizens. Indeed, much of the country’s foundational infrastructure was constructed under military administrations, a fact that makes the disappointing record of successive civilian governments even more difficult to defend.
Those of us who questioned the wisdom of the coastal highway were consequently dismissed by some as professional critics who could never see anything good in government. Yet criticism is not an act of hostility against the state. In a democracy, questioning the cost, feasibility, and relevance of a public project is a civic responsibility, particularly when the project involves trillions of naira in taxpayers’ money.
Recent developments surrounding the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway have only reinforced the concerns that informed my original argument.
The Cost of a Grand Ambition
The coastal highway has attracted criticism from several Nigerians, including Peter Obi and Donald Duke, who have questioned its priority in the face of the country’s competing infrastructure needs. A central argument against the project is that the federal government ought to have concentrated its resources on rehabilitating existing national and hinterland roads before embarking on a new highway of such enormous financial and technical proportions.
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This argument is difficult to dismiss. What is the justification for committing trillions of naira to a new road when existing highways across the country have deteriorated to the point where motorists spend hours, sometimes days, struggling to complete journeys that should ordinarily take only a few hours?
The concern, however, extends beyond the project’s cost to the manner in which it was conceived and awarded. Questions have been raised about the transparency of the procurement process, the extent of competitive bidding, and whether the necessary feasibility studies, environmental assessments, engineering investigations, and detailed design analyses were adequately completed before the contract was awarded.
It would be a remarkable feat, indeed, if the entire highway were completed as originally promised and reached Calabar within a realistic and clearly defined timeframe. For President Bola Tinubu, delivering the project in its entirety would be a major infrastructure achievement. But until the road is completed, Nigerians are entitled to scrutinise the assumptions, costs, and promises surrounding it.
For a project of this magnitude, Nigerians are entitled to demand answers. What alternatives were considered? What criteria informed the selection of the route? What were the findings of the feasibility studies? What mechanisms are in place to prevent cost overruns, ensure accountability, and guarantee completion?
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These are not unreasonable questions. They are fundamental issues that any responsible government should be prepared to address.
In this modern era, a project of such financial and strategic importance should not be shrouded in uncertainty. The greater the public investment, the greater the obligation to ensure transparency. Where government fails to provide sufficient information, it creates a vacuum that speculation, suspicion, and conspiracy theories will inevitably fill.
Unfortunately, that appears to be what is happening with the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway.
When Development Becomes a Source of Displacement
Another troubling dimension of the project is the demolition of homes, businesses, and other properties along its right-of-way. For the people affected, these demolitions are not simply engineering inconveniences or unavoidable statistics in a development report. They represent the destruction of livelihoods, the loss of investments, the disruption of communities, and, in some cases, the collapse of entire family economies.
Development should improve people’s lives, not reduce them to collateral damage in the pursuit of political ambition.
Where demolitions are necessary in the public interest, affected citizens deserve transparent procedures, adequate notice, fair compensation, and humane treatment. A government that claims to be building a better future must not be indifferent to the suffering of the people whose present it disrupts.
For many Nigerians, the controversy surrounding the coastal highway goes beyond the physical construction of a road. Some suspect that the project may have political considerations, including the mobilisation of resources ahead of the 2027 general election. Others believe its more immediate economic purpose may be to strengthen the Lagos–Ogun maritime corridor, potentially giving the South-West an additional infrastructure advantage over other regions, particularly the South-East and South-South.
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There are also suspicions that the highway may not ultimately extend to Calabar as originally envisaged, but could terminate somewhere within the Lagos–Ogun axis.
These remain allegations and suspicions, not established facts. Nevertheless, their persistence is itself an indication of the serious deficit of public confidence surrounding the project. When citizens cannot clearly distinguish between a government’s declared intentions and the actual direction of its policies, the responsibility lies with the government to provide credible explanations.
The controversy has become even more pronounced following the reported September 2026 agreement between the Ogun State Government and DP World MEA FZE to develop a deep-sea port and the Ogun State Blue Marine Special Economic Zone in Ogun Waterside Local Government Area.
For those who suspect that the coastal highway is closely connected to a broader strategy for developing the Lagos–Ogun maritime corridor, this development is likely to reinforce their concerns. It does not, by itself, establish that the highway is designed to serve a limited geographical or political purpose. However, it makes transparency about the highway’s ultimate route, economic objectives, and relationship with other maritime projects even more imperative.
The public deserves clarity, not competing narratives.
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The reported attempts to alter aspects of the original highway plan have also raised questions about the project’s direction. Where a project of this magnitude undergoes significant changes, the government owes Nigerians a clear explanation of what has changed, why the changes became necessary, and what implications they have for the cost, route, timeline, and ultimate destination of the road.
A project that begins with a clearly announced destination should not gradually become an exercise in shifting expectations.
Will the Road Actually Reach Calabar?
One of the most persistent concerns about the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway is whether it can be completed along its entire proposed route, particularly through the difficult terrain of the Niger Delta.
The coastal environment presents substantial engineering challenges, including deep swamps, marshlands, waterways, and unstable ground. These conditions demand careful planning, specialised engineering solutions, extensive environmental assessments, and enormous financial commitments.
Critics have therefore questioned whether the government has fully accounted for the technical and financial implications of constructing the road through these difficult terrains, including areas of Bayelsa and other parts of the Niger Delta.
The fear is that Nigeria could end up with an expensive highway that makes considerable progress in some locations but encounters prohibitive technical or financial obstacles before reaching its intended destination.
A country that depends almost exclusively on its roads to move goods places an enormous burden on its highways, increases logistics costs, and leaves its economy vulnerable whenever major transport corridors become congested or impassable.
If that happens, the coastal highway could become another addition to our growing catalogue of ambitious but unfinished public projects.
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It would be a remarkable feat, indeed, if the entire highway were completed as originally promised and reached Calabar within a realistic and clearly defined timeframe. For President Bola Tinubu, delivering the project in its entirety would be a major infrastructure achievement. But until the road is completed, Nigerians are entitled to scrutinise the assumptions, costs, and promises surrounding it.
This is precisely why the government must resist the temptation to use the deteriorating condition of the East–West Road as a justification for abandoning or fundamentally altering the coastal highway’s original objective.
If the government has concluded that the East–West Road requires comprehensive reconstruction, it should develop a separate plan, provide the necessary funding, and award the relevant contracts transparently. The reconstruction of one road should not become an excuse for quietly abandoning another project whose original purpose was clearly communicated to the public.
Both projects should be assessed on their own merits, with their costs, benefits, feasibility, and completion timelines made public.
Anything less would deepen the suspicion that Nigeria’s infrastructure planning is driven more by political expediency than by a coherent national development strategy.
Where Are the Patriots in Government?
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of this controversy is not the coastal highway itself but what it reveals about the quality of our democracy.
Where are the patriots in the National Executive Council, the State Executive Councils, and the National Assembly who can look a president in the face and say: “Mr President, this may be a good project, but it is not our most urgent priority at this time”?
A functional democracy should not depend on the assumption that everything a president proposes must automatically become a national priority. The responsibility of those who occupy public office is not merely to endorse presidential decisions but to interrogate them, examine their implications, and ensure that they serve the broader public interest.
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Unfortunately, our democracy increasingly appears to operate on the principle that whatever the president declares a priority must become one, regardless of the country’s competing needs.
This is not responsible governance. It is an abdication of independent judgment.
A president may possess the constitutional authority to initiate projects and set policy directions, but that authority does not make every decision economically sound or strategically wise. National development requires robust debate, objective needs assessments, institutional independence, and the courage to challenge decisions that may not serve the country’s best interests.
The coastal highway controversy illustrates the consequences of a political culture in which questioning the president’s priorities can be mistaken for disloyalty.
The duty of elected representatives is to the Nigerian people, not to the political comfort of the president. When public funds are at stake, silence is not patriotism, and unquestioning loyalty is not leadership.
Functional Seaports Before Another Grand Highway
One of the strongest arguments against treating the coastal highway as a leading national priority is the failure to fully develop and utilise Nigeria’s existing maritime infrastructure.
Why should a country blessed with an extensive coastline and several strategically located seaports continue to concentrate so much of its maritime traffic around Lagos when other ports could serve as engines of economic growth for their respective regions?
The ports in Warri, Port Harcourt, and Calabar possess the potential to stimulate trade, create employment, support industrial development, and reduce the logistical burden on the Lagos ports. Yet their ability to perform these functions effectively remains constrained by infrastructure, operational, and connectivity challenges.
Imagine what would happen if the federal government developed these ports, improved their operational efficiency, and connected them to reliable road and rail networks.
Importers and manufacturers in Aba, Umuahia, Nnewi, Port Harcourt, and Calabar would have stronger incentives to move goods through ports closer to their businesses. Traders and industrialists in Warri, Benin City, Onitsha and Asaba could also benefit from improved access to the Warri port and other suitable maritime facilities.
Such a strategy would distribute economic opportunities more evenly, reduce pressure on the Apapa and Tin Can Island ports in Lagos, shorten some supply chains, and create employment across multiple regions.
Instead of concentrating investment in a single corridor, the government would be strengthening several economic centres simultaneously.
This is what a balanced national development strategy should look like.
The same logic raises questions about the commercial priorities behind the proposed Gateway Deep Sea Port in Ogun State, particularly in the context of other existing and proposed ports in the wider region.
The proposed Ibom Deep Seaport, for instance, deserves a rigorous comparative assessment alongside the Gateway project. Such an assessment should examine market demand, proximity to existing ports, hinterland connectivity, cargo projections, construction costs, and long-term commercial viability.
The objective should not be to deny any region the opportunity to develop. Every part of Nigeria deserves investment. Rather, public policy should ensure that competing projects are assessed objectively and that scarce public resources are committed to projects capable of delivering the greatest national economic benefits.
The question is not whether Ogun State deserves a deep-sea port. It is whether the government’s overall maritime strategy is coherent, economically justified, and sufficiently balanced to serve the country as a whole.
Dredge the Niger and Unlock the Economy
Nigeria should also look beyond roads as the principal means of moving goods across the country.
The dredging and sustainable development of the River Niger, subject to rigorous environmental and economic assessments, could help unlock the potential of inland water transportation and improve the commercial viability of the Onitsha River Port.
With the appropriate navigational infrastructure, cargo could move more efficiently from suitable coastal ports to inland locations along the Niger, reducing dependence on road transport for certain categories of goods.
The benefits could extend beyond Onitsha to Lokoja and other locations where inland water transportation is commercially and technically feasible.
Such an approach would not eliminate the need for good roads. Rather, it would create a more integrated transportation system in which roads, railways, seaports, and inland waterways complement one another.
A country that depends almost exclusively on its roads to move goods places an enormous burden on its highways, increases logistics costs, and leaves its economy vulnerable whenever major transport corridors become congested or impassable.
Nigeria needs a transportation policy that recognises the economic value of integrating different modes of transport instead of treating every new road as an independent achievement.
A West–East Railway May Be More Strategic
Beyond inland waterways, a properly planned West–East railway connecting Lagos and Ibadan with major commercial and industrial centres in the South-East and South-South could deliver substantial economic benefits.
A railway corridor that connects major cities, industrial clusters, agricultural production centres, and functional seaports would facilitate the movement of passengers and freight, reduce transportation costs, and stimulate investment along its route.
For a country seeking to expand production, improve regional integration, and reduce the cost of doing business, the economic case for such a railway deserves serious consideration.
The South-East and South-South are home to important commercial centres, industrial clusters, agricultural activities, and vast human capital. Their economic potential should not be constrained by deteriorating roads and expensive, unreliable transportation.
A railway linking these regions to the South-West would strengthen domestic trade and improve the movement of goods between the country’s major economic centres.
When the potential benefits of such a railway are considered alongside the need to rehabilitate existing highways, develop functional ports, and improve inland water transportation, the question becomes unavoidable: should the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway have been the dominant infrastructure priority at this time?
My position remains that a comprehensive assessment of Nigeria’s needs should have given greater urgency to repairing existing roads, improving maritime infrastructure, and developing an integrated national transportation network.
The issue is not that Nigeria should stop building new roads. It is that the country must stop confusing the size of a project with the importance of its benefits.
The East–West Road and the Abandoned Promise of Development
For the people of the South-South, the condition of the East–West Road provides a particularly painful illustration of Nigeria’s infrastructure crisis.
For decades, the road has been associated with severe deterioration, traffic gridlock, and journeys that can leave motorists stranded for hours or even days. Its condition has imposed substantial costs on businesses, disrupted the movement of agricultural produce, and frustrated the daily activities of residents across the region.
A properly reconstructed East–West Road would be transformative for the South-South. It would improve connectivity between communities, facilitate trade, support industrial development, and make it easier for people to access markets, schools, hospitals, and other essential services.
Its benefits would extend beyond the immediate corridor because it connects important economic centres and communities across the region.
Indeed, I would argue that the reconstruction of the East–West Road could deliver more immediate and direct benefits to the South-South than a new coastal highway whose completion, cost, and eventual economic returns remain subjects of public debate.
It could also do more to strengthen public confidence in the federal government than political declarations about governors defecting to the ruling party.
Political defections may enlarge a party’s membership or improve its electoral calculations, but they do not automatically translate into better living conditions for citizens. Roads, reliable electricity, security, employment, functional hospitals, and affordable transportation are what people experience in their daily lives.
A government that wants to win the hearts of the people should focus on projects whose benefits they can see and feel.
The South-East faces similar challenges. Poor road infrastructure continues to undermine commerce, increase transportation costs, and frustrate the movement of goods and people across the region.
If the political leaders of the South-East and South-South were asked to identify their most urgent infrastructure needs through a transparent and credible consultation process, I strongly suspect that the rehabilitation of existing roads, including the East–West Road, and the development of functional ports would feature prominently.
For the avoidance of doubt, I believe the coastal highway should proceed in accordance with its stated objective of connecting Lagos to Calabar, provided the government can demonstrate its feasibility, financing, and commitment to completing the entire route. The East–West Road should not be used as an excuse to abandon the coastal highway, just as the coastal highway should not be used to neglect the East–West Road or other critical infrastructure.
It is difficult to imagine that communities struggling with deteriorating roads would unanimously rank a new coastal highway above the infrastructure they need to keep their existing economies functioning.
This is why infrastructure planning must begin with the people and their needs, rather than with the political ambitions of those in power.
The Danger of Regional Competition
Nigeria is a vast country with enormous economic potential. Its future prosperity depends on its ability to empower every region with the infrastructure required to contribute meaningfully to national development.
No region should have to lose for another to prosper. The South-West deserves development, but so do the South-East, South-South, North-Central, North-East, and North-West.
The problem begins when infrastructure development is perceived as a competition for political advantage rather than a national strategy for expanding economic opportunities.
If the coastal highway is completed and delivers its promised benefits, Nigerians should welcome it. But if other regions continue to suffer from dilapidated roads, underutilised ports, inadequate rail connections, and chronic infrastructure deficits, the government must explain how its spending priorities are advancing balanced national development.
The objective should be to build a stronger Nigerian economy, not merely to produce impressive infrastructure announcements or create the appearance that one region is being favoured over another.
I am particularly concerned that some political leaders in the South-South have defended the coastal highway with extraordinary enthusiasm, perhaps because they see support for the project as an opportunity to demonstrate loyalty to the president or secure political recognition.
I hope their confidence proves justified. But political loyalty is no substitute for engineering feasibility, adequate financing, and a credible completion plan.
Those defending the project should insist on the same transparency and accountability that critics are demanding. They should want to know whether the highway will reach Calabar, how much it will ultimately cost, when it will be completed, and what economic benefits it will deliver to the communities along its entire route.
Defending a project should never mean surrendering the right to ask questions about its implementation.
The people of the South-South deserve more than promises. They deserve infrastructure that is completed, functional, and capable of transforming their economic circumstances.
2027 Will Be aTest of Public Confidence
Ultimately, the controversy surrounding the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway is part of a larger debate about governance, accountability, and the priorities of the Tinubu administration.
The 2027 general election will provide Nigerians with an opportunity to assess the government’s performance against its promises. Voters will consider not merely the number of projects announced or the amount of money said to have been committed, but whether their living conditions have improved.
They will consider the state of the economy, the cost of living, the security situation, the condition of their roads, the availability of jobs, and the government’s ability to deliver essential services.
No amount of political mobilisation or the defection of governors can permanently substitute for public satisfaction with governance.
The real test of leadership is not how many political officeholders can be persuaded to join the ruling party, but how many ordinary Nigerians believe their lives have improved under its administration.
I remain convinced that a free, fair, and credible election in 2027 will provide a clearer picture of public sentiment than the political alignments currently being celebrated by the government and its supporters.
For me, the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway represents a broader question about the direction of Nigeria’s development. Are we building infrastructure according to clearly established national needs, or are we allowing political ambition to determine which projects receive priority?
Are we investing in a connected national economy, or are we concentrating resources in projects whose wider benefits have not been adequately explained?
Are our elected representatives exercising independent judgment, or have they become so dependent on presidential approval that they can no longer distinguish between a good project and a good project at the wrong time?
These are questions that Nigerians must continue to ask.
My position has not changed since I wrote “This Expressway May Lead to Nowhere” in May 2024. Nigeria needs roads, railways, ports, and other critical infrastructure. But it also needs responsible planning, transparent procurement, sound economic judgment, and leaders who understand that public resources are limited and must be deployed where they can produce the greatest benefits.
For the avoidance of doubt, I believe the coastal highway should proceed in accordance with its stated objective of connecting Lagos to Calabar, provided the government can demonstrate its feasibility, financing, and commitment to completing the entire route. The East–West Road should not be used as an excuse to abandon the coastal highway, just as the coastal highway should not be used to neglect the East–West Road or other critical infrastructure.
Both projects should be treated as distinct commitments, with their respective costs, funding arrangements, timelines, and implementation plans made transparent to the public.
If the government is confident in the coastal highway, it should have nothing to fear from scrutiny. It should publish the relevant studies, clarify the route, explain any changes to the original plan, and demonstrate how the project will be completed.
That is how public confidence is earned.
Nigeria does not lack ambitious projects. What it lacks is a consistent record of completing them, maintaining them, and ensuring that they respond to the actual needs of the people.
A country cannot build its way out of poverty by announcing increasingly expensive projects while neglecting the foundations of its existing economy.
The ultimate measure of development is not the grandeur of the promise but the reality of the delivery.
Until the Lagos–Calabar Coastal Highway reaches its intended destination and delivers the benefits promised to Nigerians, the questions raised by its critics will remain legitimate.
And if it eventually becomes another expensive monument to political ambition rather than a completed instrument of national development, history will judge those who insisted that the project was a priority while more urgent needs remained unattended.
Comrade Amechi is a good-governance advocate and trade union activist.
