Councils are granting enough planning permissions – so why aren't we building housing?

The good old days. Image: Hulton Archive/Getty.

One of the central housing objectives of David Cameron’s government was to liberalise the planning system and increase the amount of land that was permissioned for residential development.

To be fair, in that respect, it didn’t do too bad a job. The number of units given planning permission in England increased from 176,209 in 2011 to 261,644 in 2015. The planning system is now yielding enough permissions to meet the roughly 250,000 new homes many housing economists think we need to keep up with household growth.

This doesn’t mean they are all in precisely the right places – although London’s permissions are running at around 50,000 a year, according to the latest figures from the Department for Communities & Local Government (DCLG), more or less in line with what the capital is thought to need. Nor does it mean that they are all necessarily in a position to be built out the very next day.

But, still, the number of plots approved for residential development in a given year has increased dramatically, by 48 per cent between 2011 and 2015.

Here’s the thing, though: this has not been matched by anything like a corresponding increase in building activity. Starts have risen over the same period by just 26 per cent, from 110,820 in 2011 to only 139,680 in 2015. If we’re ever to increase housing supply to the required levels, this growing shortfall between permissions and starts will need to be addressed and overcome.

Now, the Home Builders Federation (HBF) dismisses the starts figures as unreliable. And it is true that they probably underestimate activity somewhat  usually by a few thousand units, sometimes possibly by up to 20,000 units.

But even 20,000 (and I’m being really generous there) is nothing compared with the gap that has emerged between new planning permissions and building starts – a gap which was 65,389 in 2011 and, by 2015, have grown to a massive 121,964.

Sure, there is a little bit of give in the figures, but the trend is clear: homes simply aren’t being built as quickly as they are being approved by planners.

Another way of measuring this is to look at the completions numbers from the government’s other housebuilding data series, the more reliable “Net supply of housing”; this is published each November and is the HBF’s preferred source of figures.

Of course, completions take rather longer than start’s, so we have to allow for a degree of timelag: builders reckon homes take two to threee years to proceed from planning permission to being ready for occupation.

But even allowing for that, the same discrepancy occurs. There were 195,300 homes approved in 2012, for example; three years later there were still only 155,080 completions. Whichever we cut this, whether we look at starts or completions, it is clear that building activity has not responded proportionately to the rapid increase in land ripe for development.

The gap between permissions and building activity that has emerged since 2011 can be appreciated at a glance from the following graph. Note too that, pre-crash, while there was a gap back then, it was much tighter.

So what’s behind this? To be fair to developers, many of these planning permissions may not be in their possession. There has long been an issue of non-building landowners (speculators, historic landowners, public sector agencies, and so on) sitting tight while their holdings rise in value. This has been well documented in London by the consultants Molior.

However, Molior has charted a decline not an increase in the number of unbuilt planning permissions being held by non-builders over recent years, from 45 per cent in 2012 to 32 per cent in 2014.

So that still leaves two-thirds of unimplemented permissions in the capital in the hands of developers. So why are they not throwing up houses? Is there not a shortage of homes in this country?

Unfortunately the private housebuilding industry does not cater to housing need: it caters to effective demand. The building activity depicted in the graph above (minus 20,000 or so housing association starts each year) reflects not how many houses could be built, but how many willing buyers there are ready to purchase a new-build property at current market prices.

Developers do not build out sites as quickly as they physically can. They build them out as quickly as people are prepared to buy them – at the current market price or higher. As Philip Barnes, group land and planning director at Barratt Developments, recently observed:

The reality is that housebuilders, as return-on-capital businesses are not able to build our products at a pace faster than our customers will purchase them, at the market value.

“We could in theory cut prices to speed up sales – but we have based our land purchase price on the estimated market values so we don’t have this option in practice.”

Does this amount to landbanking? Developers say it doesn’t.

But, whatever we might call this process, the effect is that they are not releasing land with houses on it back into the market until it has reached the price they need to achieve to turn a profit. They are acting perfectly rationally in the present market – if I were a housebuilder I would do the same – but this is not an arrangement which is compatible with dramatically increasing the number of homes to plug a housing shortage.

Addressing this dynamic is something that Theresa May’s government must prioritise if it is to make any real headway on housing. There are various policies that have been uggested for tackling it. Opening up the market to SME builders by increasing the number of smaller development sites would be a good start, although it is unlikely this would make quite the difference that is needed.


A bolder route would be for the government or councils to directly commission builders (including, again, many SMEs) to put up the houses we need, and so bypass the private sector; but this will involve spending a good chunk of money.

Short of that, private developers will have to be incentivised to build more quickly. This will probably mean giving – and requiring – local authorities the power to impose contractual obligations about the pace of development when granting planning permission in the first place. It will mean creating a framework within which developers do not bid each other up for every plot of land to such a price that they cannot afford to build it out at speed.

If it is clear and explicit enough, the local authority’s requirements for all developments could be used by developers to signal to landowners that they cannot pay above a certain price for the land. Land prices, the repositary for most of the inflated value in housing, would be anchored.

Don’t get me wrong: we are still going to need lots more land, in perpetuity, to keep the housing pipeline going. This is not a Nimbys’ charter. It will still be a big task to ensure enough new homes are approved by planners – and in the right places – to meet the rapidly growing need for housing.

But the principal challenge right now is not increasing the numbers of new planning permissions. It’s getting those that are granted built out much more quickly.

Daniel Bentley is editorial director at the think tank Civitas and tweets @danielbentley. His briefing paper “Planning approvals vs housebuilding activity, 2006-2015” was published this week. 

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Outdoor dining is a lifeline for restaurants, but cities don’t always make it easy

(Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)

In downtown Toronto, café owners Toula and Peter Bekiaris were recently granted something to help them through the Covid-19 pandemic: a piece of the street outside their doors.

They got this space for their pastry and coffee shop, Filosophy, through a city-led initiative called CaféTO, created in response to the pandemic. The programme helps clusters of neighbouring restaurants want to set up outdoor patios on streets or sidewalks. As part of the initiative, Filosophy was able to expand from a two-seater bench out front to an eight-seat curbside patio, allowing it to welcome back patrons to a plot of the street separated from traffic by orange and black pylons.

“To have that little slice of pre-Covid feeling is rejuvenating for sure,” Toula Bekiaris says.


As the pandemic brings a generation of bars and restaurants to the brink of collapse, cities everywhere are seeing businesses spill out of their front doors and onto nearby sidewalks and streets. For many desperate small business owners, it’s their last best hope to claw back any business at all.

Bekiaris said the program brought her block back to life – but it also left her with a question. Toronto bylaws don’t normally make it easy for bars and restaurants to have sidewalk and curbside patios. She wondered, “My gosh, why are we not able to do this more regularly?”

Many cities have long had strict rules and steep fees that govern outdoor dining in public spaces. In places that were slow to adapt, or that haven’t adapted at all, this has caused tension for restaurant owners who are just trying to survive.

In Tel Aviv, for example, a schnitzel restaurant owner was filmed begging police to not issue him a ticket for having tables on the sidewalk outside of his shop. In New York City, businesses openly flouted rules that initially forbade outdoor eating and drinking. In the typically traffic-clogged Lima – the capital of Peru, one of the hardest-hit nations in the world for Covid – patios are scattered across sidewalks, but don’t have access to street space, which is still mainly centred around cars. “In the present-day context, the street has never been more important,” urban designer Mariana Alegre writes in a Peruvian newspaper.

As the terrasse aesthetic made famous by Paris and Montreal finds footing in cities that aren’t typically known for outdoor patronage, business owners and officials alike are finding that it’s not as simple as setting up some tables and chairs outside. The experiences of five different cities trying to embrace outdoor patios offer some useful lessons for understanding what can go wrong, and how it can be done right.

Vilnius


Vilnius was an early adopter of the outdoor dining trend. (Petras Malukas/AFP via Getty Images)

In April, the Lithuanian capital made global headlines for promising to allow bars and restaurants to use public space to set up a “giant outdoor café.”

“Plazas, squares, streets – nearby cafés will be allowed to set up outdoor tables free of charge this season,” Vilnius’s mayor Remigijus Šimašius said at the time.

There were good intentions behind the plan, but a report by nightlife consultancy VibeLab suggests the city didn’t quite pull it off. The Vilnius case study in the report says physical distancing was hard to maintain on narrow streets. There was a lack of government planning and communication. The city didn’t measure the economic impact of the initiative. Locals complained about street noise.

Mark Adam Harold, Vilnius’s night mayor and the founder of Vilnius Night Alliance, said in the VibeLab report that the “appearance of vibrancy in the streets of Vilnius led to a decrease in public support for the still-struggling hospitality sector, as people assumed the economic crisis was over.”

Still, the political will to do something radical – even if it meant mistakes were made in the process – can be a foreign concept in some places. Vilnius showed that change, often so slow in municipal politics, can happen fast in extenuating circumstances.

In July, Vilnius took it a step further, closing down some central streets to car traffic as a way to lure different kinds of people to the Old Town. “Cars cannot dominate the most sensitive and beautiful part of our city. Vilnius is choosing to be a city of the future now,” said Šimašius.  

New York City


New York City plans to bring back outdoor dining again in the spring of 2021. (Theo Wargo/Getty Images)

As soon as it was warm enough to eat and drink outside, New Yorkers were doing it. The empty streets and desolate sidewalks made it easy to claim a piece of pavement – prompting some to jump the gun on Phase 2 reopening. “I need every dollar I can get,” a Little Italy restaurant owner said, explaining his guerrilla patio to Eater back in June. “I’m hanging on by a shoestring here.”

Since those early pandemic days, New York City has moved to formalise outdoor dining, launching its Open Restaurants and Open Streets programmes. They allow establishments to set up sidewalk and curbside patios for patrons, and in some cases, even extend their restaurant’s real estate right across the street. The city says more than 9,000 businesses have signed up for Open Restaurants since June. It’s been such a success that the mayor’s office said it would do it again in the spring of 2021.

"In just two months, Open Restaurants has helped re-imagine our public spaces – bringing New Yorkers together to safely enjoy outdoor dining and helping to rescue a critical industry at the same time," said DOT Commissioner Polly Trottenberg in a news release announcing the 2021 extension.

Kristin Vincent is an owner of Sel Rrose, Home Sweet Home and Figure 19 in New York City, as well as a Sel Rrose location in Montauk. She says she already had a sidewalk patio permit for Sel Rrose in Manhattan’s Lower East Side prior to the pandemic, for which she pays approximately $25,000 annually, usually paid in three-month installments. When the last installment came due, the city waived payment.

Vincent says the city’s also been more lax about monitoring the sidewalk, which she has warmly welcomed. “They used to police outdoor seating – if you went an inch outside the zone of where you’re supposed to be, you’d get a ticket. If you stayed open for 10 minutes past when you were supposed to [close], you’d get a ticket. If neighbours were complaining that you’re outside, they’d pull your outdoor seating away. It was such an ‘honour’ to have outdoor seating,” she says.

Vincent sincerely hopes the city reconsiders its entire approach to outdoor seating even after the pandemic has ended – but she isn’t sure that’s realistic. While Home Sweet Home and Figure 19 have remained closed because of lack of outdoor space, she has had to manage a never-ending list of changing rules for the two Sel Rrose locations. Most recently, she’s had to contend with New York City’s ban on selling alcoholic drinks without food.

“Why can’t it just be drinks?” she asks. If the goal is to prevent the spread of Covid-19, she wonders why they’re still enforcing Prohibition-style rules on to-go drinks. Those little details add up, Vincent says, making it challenging for bars and restaurants to make money. Right now, the Lower East Side location is earning around 30% of the sales it made this time last year.

The nitpicking isn’t unique to New York City. At the Montauk location, she built an outdoor patio in preparation for opening only to be told it was in the wrong place. That said, that location is doing better (about 65% of sales) because the area is a phase ahead of the city, allowing for 50% indoor seating capacity.

She says allowing indoor seating will be critical to New York City bars and restaurants as summer turns to fall, and fall turns to winter. “We have to open inside – have to. We’ll even take 50%,” she says.

Montreal


Montreal reduced its usual fee for terrasse permits. (Eric Thomas/AFP via Getty Images)

Sergio Da Silva’s Montreal bar and music venue, Turbo Haüs, has been skating by on the thinnest of margins. The Latin Quarter business was closed for months, finally reopening as a terrasse-only bar in the second week of July. 

In terms of Covid measures, Montreal has pedestrianised key streets including St-Denis, where Turbo Haüs is located (for what it’s worth, it normally pedestrianises St-Denis during the summer). It also reduced the terrasse permit fee, and in Turbo Haüs’s case waived the $3,000–$4,000 it would have owed the city as reimbursement for the three metered parking spaces taken over by its mega-terrasse. But Da Silva still paid $2,000 to comply with the rest of the permitting process, including the $500 in permit fees he paid prior to the Covid discount.

Anecdotally, he says, it seems the city’s invitation to businesses to set up terrasses hasn’t been met with the kind of speed some businesses were hoping for. His neighbour across the street applied for a permit, and was still waiting even after Turbo Haüs opened. “The entire process just seemed more difficult than it was before,” he says.

It’s been a frustrating summer. It was supposed to be the bar’s time to squirrel away money for the quieter winter season. Instead, Da Silva says, he’s mostly just making enough to stay open right now. “This would have been a really, really good summer for us. We had everything in place to put a giant dent in all our debts, and we were looking forward to actually paying ourselves a livable sum. And then this kind of thing happened,” he says. He predicts this winter is when the thread that so many bars and restaurants are holding onto will finally snap.

“You should wait to see what it looks like in the winter slow season,” he says. “That's when a lot of places are actually going to be shutting down.”

Assuming most bars and restaurants won’t be able to operate at 50% or greater capacity in the winter, a small business rent forgiveness programme that gives money to tenants (rather than directly to landlords) may be the only way governments can prevent mass closures.

Tel Aviv


Tel Aviv's approach to outdoor dining left many restaurants wondering if they would be able to survive. (Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images)

Tel Aviv’s outdoor patio story has emerged in fits and starts. In May, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told people to “Go out and have a good time”.

In early July, The Times of Israel published the video of the schnitzel restaurateur pleading with police not to fine him for having a couple of tables and chairs out on the sidewalk. “Business owners give this city culture, entertainment. There’s no work and I’m even fined! I have three kids to feed, where will I get the money from?” he cried.

Three days later, the Israeli metropolis published a news release saying it was sacrificing road space for on-street dining platforms in its trendy restaurant district, on Chayim Vital Street. The city also pedestrianised 11 streets, placing chairs and umbrellas in the new car-free zones to encourage people to use their new public space. The following day, the city gave restaurants only a few hours’ warning about an open-ended closure order, which many restaurateurs vowed to disobey. They won, but within the same month, 34 restaurants were fined for serving unmasked patrons.

The backlash Tel Aviv has received from the bar and restaurant industry has been deserved. The lack of clear guidelines, ever-changing rules and unavailability of aid and support has left many businesses in the lurch, wondering if they’ll ever be able to come back from Covid.

Toronto

In pre-Covid times, Harsh Chawla says his popular Indian restaurant Pukka would routinely turn around 250 seats on a normal Saturday. Now, in a summer without tourism, nor Toronto’s Summerlicious restaurant festival, nor indoor dining, his 24-seat curbside patio has been a saving grace. “I always say, anything better than zero is a win for us,” he says.

Chawla says he helped rally his neighbours around CaféTO’s proposal of shutting down on-street parking spaces in favor of dining nooks. He came up against worries that reduced parking would mean reduced business for them – a common concern that a growing body of research demonstrates is not actually true. Eventually his stretch of St. Clair Street West came to a compromise allowing for the conversion of some parking spots.

Trevor McIntyre, global director of placemaking at IBI Group, is a consultant on the CaféTO programme. He sees the lane and parking spot closures as big wins in a city that allocates an incredible amount of space to cars, even with mounting pedestrian and cyclist deaths. “We've slowed down traffic considerably – cars slow down, the whole pace slows down. You take away the on-street parking, and it encourages people to get out and walk. You start seeing higher volumes of people,” says McIntyre.

In this experiment, curbside patios and more heavily pedestrianised areas are driving more business to areas than parking does. Chawla likes the results.

“Hopefully we do this next year, and the year after, and the year after, because I think it gives us character to the street, it gives character to the neighbourhood,” says the restaurateur. “Our summers are so short-lived in Canada, in Toronto – so why not have more spaces outside so people can enjoy it?”

Tracey Lindeman is a freelance writer based in Ottawa.