Is it quicker to build homes on large sites, or small?

Too slow, guys. Image: Getty.

The associate director of planning consultancy Nathaniel Lichfield & Partners explains why large new housing sites aren’t a silver bullet.

Most people now agree that we need to build significantly more homes than we currently do – and the government wants planning to think big in how it goes about achieving this objective.

With its “locally-led” garden towns and villages agenda, and last December’s consultation on proposed changes to the National Planning Policy Framework to encourage new settlements, local planning authorities and developers are being encouraged to look closely at bringing forward large-scale housing development projects.

On paper, this emphasis on large sites is useful: with just one site of several thousands of homes, a district can meet a significant proportion of its housing requirement. Moreover, their sheer size can stimulate the local economy and drive innovation as the site and infrastructure are developed.

However, large sites are not a silver bullet. Their scale and complexity mean that they take time to plan and require significant upfront capital investment. Furthermore, there is a need to be realistic about how quickly they can deliver new homes – such sites are not immune to the challenges and risks of the market.

Our latest research report, Start to Finish, analyses the lead-in times, planning period and delivery phases of housing sites. Here are our key findings.


Planning period

Before any homes can be built on-site, an outline or full planning application needs to be submitted and planning permission (followed by reserved matters approval for outline applications) has to be granted. A Section 106 obligation will generally need to be entered into. Pre-commencement conditions need to be discharged before any development start on-site. 

Our research shows that both the planning period (from application to decision), and the period of time between permission being granted and the first home being built, depends on the complexity of the site, which frequently correlates with its size.

And the larger the site, the longer the planning application determination period. Sites outside of London of between 100 and 499 units take, on average, 2.5 years – at least half the time required for sites of over 1,000 units – reflecting differing levels of site complexity.

By contrast, smaller sites take longer to deliver the first home after planning approval. This period of development takes just over 18 months for sites – outside of London – of under 500 units; but, perhaps surprisingly, this is significantly quicker on larger sites – in particular, on the largest 2,000+ dwelling sites, the time period from planning to first completion was under a year. This could be because larger sites may more often have larger housebuilders on board by the time an implementable permission is secured, thus be able to mobilise resources quicker.

Planning period by site size. Source: NLP analysis.

Housing delivery rates

It is widely recognised that build rates on sites are dictated by the number of sales outlets and market absorption rates. Self-evidently, large sites will frequently have more than one housebuilder building and selling homes. The larger the site, the greater the number of different housebuilders on-site and the faster the delivery rate. 

Based on our research, we found that, on average, sites of 100 to 1,000 units will typically deliver 60 units each year, while sites of 2,000 or more will deliver over 160 units per annum.

However, it is worth noting that while larger sites have a higher delivery rate due to the number of additional outlets, they take longer to plan and start on-site. There is also significant variation from the average: some sites can be quicker, others slower. And there are fluctuations from year to year.

Housing delivery by site size. Source: NLP analysis.

Our analysis shows that markets really do matter for housing delivery rates. Using estimates of land value with residential planning permissions at local authority level – as a proxy for market demand and economic strength – relatively stronger markets tend to have higher delivery rates.

This raises an important point about absorption rates: in stronger areas, housebuilders are able to build homes at a faster rate and sell them at the value they expect.

Housing delivery rates and market strength. Source: NLP analysis.

Where viable, housing sites with a larger proportion of affordable homes deliver more quickly. For both large and small-scale sites, developments with 40 per cent or more affordable housing have a build rate that is around 50 per cent higher, compared to developments with less than 10 per cent affordable housing.

The relationship between affordable housing provision and delivery rate is complex and rests on a variety of factors including viability and the level of grant or subsidy available to housing associations. On large sites, securing affordable housing “sales” can benefit housebuilder cash flow by providing financial certainty, which can be beneficial, particularly early on in a larger scale development.

However, it does demonstrate that – where viable – a tenure mix that extends beyond just housing for sale can help overcome the natural limitations associated with absorption rates. So the introduction of self-build and private rented properties might similarly increase rates of development.

Affordable housing provision and housing delivery. Source: NLP analysis.

If we are serious about achieving the Government’s target of one million homes built by 2020 – or indeed, deliver the 300,0000 per year that are needed – we need to recognise that it is about much more than just having a headline number of units in plan allocations or with planning permission. We need to understand trajectories of development: the length of time it takes for sites to come forward and the rate at which they deliver homes.

Every site is different, and there is a need for local authorities to understand the barriers and drivers of delivery in their area, seek to allocate appropriate housing sites in response and then closely monitor their progress.

Joe Sarling is associate director of planning consultancy Nathaniel Lichfield & Partners. This article was originally posted on the firm’s blog

Want more of this stuff? Follow CityMetric on Twitter or Facebook.

 
 
 
 

How the rise of anti-crime politics caused lasting harm to Black Americans

"I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become," James Forman Jr. says. (David McNew/Getty Images)

The police killing of George Floyd, and the protest movement that emerged from it, has reinvigorated a national conversation around reinventing criminal justice policy in the United States.

At the same time, reports that violent crime is rising in many US cities have resurrected talk of the much-disputed “Ferguson effect,” a theory put forward by law enforcement professionals, and some researchers, who argued that police slowdowns in the wake of the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests resulted in elevated rates of violent crime. President Donald Trump is trying to weaponise this narrative, paired with images of federal officers clashing with protesters in the streets of Portland, to wage a 1968-style backlash election campaign.

“People who want to mobilise a lock-them-up style of either policing or prosecution have tried to weaponise those short-term increases,” says James Forman Jr., professor of law at Yale Law School. “Criminologists will say you have to be very, very cautious about short-term movement [in crime statistics]. We don't know whether or not what we're seeing right now [with violent crime increasing] is going to sustain itself. But the fact is, it's here and people are talking about it.”

In 2018, Forman won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction for his book Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America. Drawing on his experience as a public defender in Washington, DC, he traced the emergence of anti-crime politics in late 20th century Black communities. Forman showed how newly empowered Black politicians fought for policies they believed would protect and uplift Black Americans, but inadvertently contributed to mass incarceration. 


CityMetric recently caught up with Forman to discuss crime trends, where he sees reason for hope in this moment and how the Black political class’s attitude toward crime and punishment has shifted since the latter part of the 20th century. 

This interview has been edited and condensed. 

There is talk right now about a resurgence of crime and violence in American cities. We saw similar, more localised concerns after the initial 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in Ferguson and Baltimore. Do you fear this could reinvigorate the kind of politics you describe in your book among segments of the Black community and political class?

I fear that it could be reinvigorated nationally and also in the Black political class. Look at the political conversations that are happening in Atlanta right now, for example, a city that also has seen a short-term uptick in crime as it is a site of a lot of protests about George Floyd and Breonna Taylor on the national level, as well as Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery more locally in Georgia.

I think that you can already see in some of the language of the local elected officials this idea that we have to be very careful about pulling back. [They are saying] “while the protesters may make some valid points, we can't risk returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Those decades really traumatised the United States, and particularly traumatised Black communities. There's a deep fear about returning to the levels of the violence that we saw in the crack years.

You write a lot about class divides among Black Americans, where middle income and elite Black people don't suffer as much from extremely punitive policies. They also have closer ties to the politicians who are creating these policies. There are very specific groups of people, even in marginalised communities, whose voices are heard.  As a result of these dynamics, you write about Black politicians fighting for things like mandatory minimum prison sentences or against decriminalising marijuana. Is there still that disconnect between those who suffer the most from criminal justice policies and those who are actually heard in political discourse?  

Let me just say a caveat, that when we talk about class divisions in the Black community it's important to hold two truths in our head at the same time. Bruce Western and others have shown the way in which class, educational status, income can dramatically reduce the likelihood of being hardest hit by the criminal system – namely incarcerated. Middle class and upper middle class Black people get some measure of protection. It's also true at the same time that Black people of all classes are worse off relative to their class counterparts in the white community. 

One area where class is least protective is policing and police stops. The police do not know how many degrees you have. They don't know how much money you have in your bank account. I want to be very clear that in making this point about class, I'm not making the argument that race or racism don't matter in this context. 

In terms of how it plays out now, I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become. Twenty or 30 years ago they had a consciousness, but there's levels of understanding. Many of the people I write about in the book wanted to promote the interests of the Black community. They weren't motivated by indifference or callousness. When presented with mounting evidence of how awful this system has been in Black lives, they're reconsidering and recalibrating. 

Lots of former elected officials have said to me some version of “I didn't know at the time and I appreciate that you showed us in our full complexity. I appreciate that you showed the pressures we were under. If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have been less quick to go along with some of these harsh measures.” 

The second thing that has affected the Black political class has been the emerging movements, led by Black people in particular and led by young people. They not only educated leaders, but pressured them and made them understand that there is a political cost. If you're not moved by the moral argument, then you'll be moved by the political argument. You'll be moved by the people protesting outside the office of District Attorney Jackie Lacey in Los Angeles, for example, where Black Lives Matter LA has held, I believe, a year of consecutive protests against a Black district attorney who has had really some of the worst practices.

From what I can tell, she's been pressured by the movement to change some of her positions on important issues like prosecution of low-level drug offenders, for example, and the aggressiveness with which she prosecutes police officers for acts of violence.

What do you make of the calls to defend or even abolish the police?

What I find so compelling about abolition, initially in the prison context and extended to the police as well, is that it shifts the conversation and forces us to go through experiments in which we imagine what it would take to build that world. I think that exercise is very important, because it pushes us further than we are naturally inclined to go. Cultivating a broader imagination is an incredibly important part of this work, because as you know from my book, often it was lack of imagination that caused people to fall back on [punitive policies]. 

That's what caused D.C. Councilmember David Clarke to call the police rather than public health experts when he was overwhelmed with letters about heroin addicts in public space. He was anti-drug war, but he couldn't imagine responding to a call for help with heroin addicts with anything other than police. That's a very common move from even really good and progressive people. 

People who are for defunding, for abolition, are absolutely right about reinvesting that money into alternative structures that support communities. But the reinvestment part doesn't follow naturally from the terms. We might want to come up with a term that captures the new stuff we want to do. I think that's particularly important because one of the reasons Black communities have ended up supporting more police is that Black communities have always wanted their fair share of the resources.

Then, the evidence suggests the United States has too many police officers doing prophylactic, preventative, or stop-and-frisk style policing. The style of policing that leads to district level harassment, pulling people over for no reason. But we have too little investment in the parts of police departments that investigate unsolved crimes. I'm talking about the investigator or the detective who comes to your house after there's been a robbery, an assault, a rape, or homicide. 

As compared to European countries, in the United States we actually underinvest in those parts of our police departments. Jill Leovy’s book Ghettoside shows this in dramatic detail. She describes an LAPD that's stopping and frisking Black drivers wantonly and yet the homicide detectives are still relying on a fax machine and the fax machine is broken. They have to go with their own money to Staples to buy a printer. Meanwhile, other aspects of the department are kitted out in this ridiculous riot gear that makes them look like they're in Fallujah. 

That under investment is particularly damaging to Black communities because we're disproportionately victimised by crime. Because of racism and this allocation of resources, the police are less likely to respond in Black communities. The kids I used to work with in the charter schools in DC, we talk about no snitching, but one of the reasons they would never call the police after they'd been victimised by crime is they would say, “They're not even going to come. You're wasting time.” 

I did a Q&A with Jill Leovy too and her argument is one I've struggled to articulate in our present moment. She argues the state doesn't have a monopoly on violence in low-income Black neighbourhoods, because investigations of violence are deemphasised and crime victims or their loved ones often take retribution into their own hands.  But right now, establishing or preserving the state's monopoly on violence isn't an appealing talking point. 

Yes, this is another thing nobody's talking about. Whatever we're going to do instead of the police has to be accountable to the public. The best, most direct way to have accountability is to have the individuals be public employees. As long as we have 300 million guns in this country at least some of those state employees are going to themselves be armed. It's unreasonable to ask them to do the job without it. Not as many need to be armed as are armed now, but some of them need to be. But they can't be hiding behind union contracts or civil service protections which make it impossible to remove even the worst performing, most abusive officers. 

We can not call them police if we want to. That's semantic, but maybe symbolism matters. But those people have to be state employees. They can work with community-based nonprofits, but there are also communities that don't have as robust of a nonprofit network, and they deserve protection too. These [community] groups have to be accountable to the state and, when they don't exist, the state has to be there. 

Progressives get all the points I just made when it's applied to education. The notion that things be public and accountable to the state is understood when it comes to schools. It's exactly why so many people on the left are opposed to charter schools, because they say they don't have public accountability. They want these things to be a state function. But this point about the difficulty in removing this entirely from the hands of the state is, I think, one that liberals and progressives understand from other contexts.

Jake Blumgart is a staff writer at CityMetric.