Liverpool city council can find money for a new Everton Stadium. So why can’t it build homes or offices?

Everton’s current grounds, Goodison Park. Image: Getty.

One Saturday night earlier this year, I was quietly entertaining myself by reading some Liverpool City Council minutes on the internet (don’t tell my wife), when I was very disappointed to read something attributed to one of our more prominent local politicians.

Stephen Munby is a Labour Party councillor in the Riverside ward of the City of Liverpool. He was speaking in his capacity as cabinet member for highway & city services, an important and senior role on the council. 

What he said shocked me so much that I immediately decided I would fire off an email to Munby and our seven Liverpool City Region leaders, under the subject line of “BUILD MORE BLOODY OFFICES”. (I blame Jonn Elledge for that; he’s a bad influence on me.) Here’s an extract.

I was shocked by the defeatist attitude publicly displayed by Councillor Munby in these minutes dated 19 December 2017:

For example, it is minuted that he said: “But let’s face it, while we have a duty to improve all our basic services and infrastructure, it could be many years before we ‘catch-up’ with the conventional economies of other core cities like Leeds and Manchester and we are unlikely ever to compete for high paid jobs in financial services.”

I pointed out that, when measured using equivalent criteria, Liverpool already has a much higher population and GVA than Leeds and Greater Liverpool, and already has a very similar GVA per head to Greater Manchester, before adding:

I really hope that this attitude is not prevalent within our civic leadership, for the sake of us all.

Maybe Councillor Munby could positively and publicly lobby for more offices in Liverpool instead. As well as helping to fund Everton Football Club’s new stadium, could Liverpool City Council not also help to fund eight high-rise state-of-the-art Grade A office blocks along Pall Mall? The site is adjacent to Moorfields underground station, served by where 38 trains per hour – a train every 95 seconds – from across Greater Liverpool. Such a development would employ tens of thousands of Liverpool City Region residents in well paid jobs.

Just in case I wasn’t angry enough already, councillor Munby replied to me, and everyone else, 32 minutes later. (I’m guessing he may have been angry too.) Here’s his full reply:

Bless…………..

To be fair, when I fire off an angry email I usually don’t get any reply at all, so I am a bit torn about this one. I mean, it is a reply after all. 

I was intrigued as to who this person was, so I had a look on the internet. On the council’s official website, in the ‘Register of interests’ section, it states that he is a part time case worker for Stephen Twigg, the MP for Liverpool West Derby, and a member of the Unite trade union.  According to a Facebook page​, he has been a Liverpool City Council councillor since 1998​; his home town is Cambridge; and he read History at the University of York in the class of 1976. 

I also found some online documents, which suggest that he may have been an intellectual punk rocker, as well as the editor of a Young Communist League publication called Challenge. Here’s an example of an article he wrote for Marxism Today way back in 1978.

With all that behind him, I must admit that I now felt a bit disappointed at the brevity of the reply that I received.


Anyway, I suspect you want more details of the Everton story I referred to in the last paragraph of my angry email. The Guardian recently reported that Liverpool City Council intends to borrow £280m to loan to Everton Football Club, to help to fund its new £500m stadium, at Bramley Moore Dock, within the £5bn Liverpool Waters development – all with the encouragement of city mayor, and Everton fan, Joe Anderson. 

It makes sense to me that, if Liverpool City Council can borrow £280m to help fund a relatively little used football stadium for a (surely) wealthy Premier League football club, then surely it could borrow a bit more to incentivise the construction of lots of relatively heavily used top class office space for tens of thousands of Liverpolitans to work in full time, too? (I made the case for that back in October.)

Meanwhile, Channel 4 has recently been looking again at the consequences to Liverpool of the last Labour government’s Housing Market Renewal Initiative - the flawed scheme which ‘regenerated’ (read: demolished) about 400,000 homes across the Midlands and the north, as described by SAVE here​. Channel 4 stated that it costs on average £35,000 to renovate one of the condemned properties to an acceptable standard.

So – just to make the sums easy, so that I can keep up – let’s say that the city council decided to renovate 100 of the houses at a total cost of £3.5m. They could then rent out the properties at, say, £500 per month, plus council tax of about £100 per month.

That means that the £3.5m loan would be paid off in about five years, providing a healthy income of £720,000 a year for the council thereafter. Sounds good, doesn’t it? After all, “invest to earn” is a catchphrase of mayor Anderson.

Perhaps the council could even use the new Liverpool City Council house building company called ‘Foundations’, announced in December 2017, to do it?  Or am I tilting at dinosaurs and giant puppets  ?

One last thing. According to Councillor Munby on the official ​Invest Liverpool website, Liverpool is

…one of the UK’s leading financial centres hosting key facilities for Santander, Barclaycard, Handelsbanken, RSA and Bibby Financial Services. Wealth management is a particular strength and Liverpool is ranked as the leading location outside of London, with global firms such as Pershing (subsidiary of The Bank of New York Mellon Corporation) and Investec Wealth and Investment, as well as Rathbones Investment Management.

Just so you know.

Dave Mail is CityMetric’s Liverpool City Region correspondent. He will be updating us on the brave new world of Liverpool City Region, mostly monthly, in ‘E-mail from Liverpool City Region’ and he is on twitter @davemail2017.

 
 
 
 

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.