Residents are fighting back against gentrification in Manchester’s Northern Quarter

A building in Thomas Street, being demolished. Image: Andrea Sandor.

As the claw sunk its teeth into the Victorian warehouse, raining down century-old hand laid brick, the spirit of residents hardened. Soon after, huddled in the back room of Gulliver’s Pub, the Northern Quarter Forum formally adopted a constitution and elected officers. The city council was failing them, and there was no other option but to organise. This was war.

The Northern Quarter is lauded in travel guides and city break round-ups as Manchester’s quirky, indie heartland, replete with independents, hip bars, and evocative street art. What these articles won’t tell you, but residents will, is that the streets are dirty, derelict buildings are crumbling, and upper floors of others are vacant. The homeless bed down for the night, stag and hen parties traipse through, and drunks pass out on the street leaking trails of urine.

So when developer Salboy, owned by billionaire bookie Fred Done, announced at a public consultation about luxury flats that one of the Victorian warehouses on the Soap Street site was to be demolished under emergency orders the next day, residents rallied. It wasn’t the first building to be torn down at a moment’s notice, and, although they didn’t know it yet, a few weeks later an eighteenth century weaver’s cottage would also be dust.

The Northern Quarter in context. Image: Google.

Unease about gentrification had been growing for several months. Arts organisations and long-time independents were forced out when their rents were put up 30-40 per cent overnight. Many of those who remain are hospitality businesses that own multiple seemingly independent establishments, and those moving in have significant capital behind them: in other words, if you think it’s an independent, it’s probably not.

The Northern Quarter has become a hotspot for short-term lets, with visitors throwing all night parties, failing to follow waste management rules, and even, say some, harassing residents in their own buildings. Property management companies are now renting flats as short-term lets rather than to long-term residents, and individuals are building up property portfolios of their own. At the moment, it’s easier to find a let on Airbnb (171 listings) than it is a long-term rent on Rightmove (143 listings).

As in other cities, there is both a concern that short-term lets are pushing up house prices, and long term questions about what sort of economy short-term lets stimulate: night clubs, not hardware stores. While city centre MP Lucy Powell raised the issue with Home Secretary Sajid Javid, he said that London’s 90-day per year restriction will not be introduced elsewhere.

Now developers have moved into the Northern Quarter, touting “luxury” flats. Salboy has three projects in the works – one under construction and two, including Soap Street, seeking planning permission. When, at one consultation, I asked director Simon Ismail to whom these “luxury” flats would be marketed, he answered candidly: not to locals. The only way to make the numbers work – to maximise profit – is to sell at a higher price point to overseas investors.

So is the Northern Quarter a cultural hub or a party district? Is it a cherished conservation area for a diverse mix of residents to call home, or a free-market playground for international capital to make a fast buck?

Manchester City Council has let the area develop “organically,” taking a developer-friendly approach. Despite having powers to issue notices requiring owners of decaying buildings to conduct repairs, some buildings have sat derelict for decades.

RIP. Image: Andrea Sandor.

When I meet with Sir Richard Leese, I ask the leader of the City Council what measures were taken to save the recently demolished buildings. He tells me both were under development, as though the expectation was they were being refurbished. And yet the original Soap Street proposal didn’t propose retaining the Victorian warehouses, and the Thomas Street plans hadn’t yet been submitted.

While Leese cites the number of refurbished buildings in the area and denies the council has allowed buildings to crumble so owners can develop them into profitable luxury flats and hotels, it’s easy to understand why many residents assume this is the case. Even Leese reminds me it can be more profitable to knock down and build new.

It seems what’s happening in the Northern Quarter and elsewhere in Manchester is a version of what has been referred to as “state-led hyper gentrification”: a process in which gentrification is “not just allowed, but abetted by government policies”.

So how did we get here?

Let’s step back a few decades to the 1980s. Manchester, having fallen from its industrial heyday into a depressed backwater, was in a dire state. Between 1951 and 1981, jobs in the city declined by 22 per cent and Manchester residents cleared out of the slummy city centre for the greener fringes. Following deregulation of London’s financial sector in 1986, Manchester’s Labour-run city xouncil switched gears in the 1990’s from a welfare agenda to a market-led approach to attract new investment.

Around this time, artists and architects started moving into the derelict Northern Quarter due to cheap rents, slowly transforming it into a bohemian mecca. Some later formed the Northern Quarter Association, and protected the area’s historic architecture by getting a number of buildings listed.


The Council’s market-led approach appeared to pay off, as Manchester was dubbed the poster child of urban renewal. And there is much to admire. Manchester’s City Centre population grew 149 per cent between 2002-15; jobs increased by 84 per cent between 1998 and 2015. But now the market-driven approach is running away from them: on some estimates, Manchester is growing 15 times faster than it can build housing.

Numerous news stories have profiled Manchester’s housing crisis, particularly the lack of affordable housing. Academic Jonathan Silver, in his report From Homes to Assets, argues this crisis is “not just an outcome of unjust austerity. It has also come about through the relatively recent emergence of housing in Greater Manchester as an investment opportunity for financial actors, from within the UK and increasingly internationally.”

The implications of this shift to financialised housing, Silver argues, “can be seen in the demolition of our built environment heritage, the growing pressures on neighbourhoods such as the Northern Quarter and perhaps most worryingly the lack of balanced communities as the central areas become ghettos for the well-off.”

Here in the Northern Quarter, those pressures are evident. The area is buzzing but also seedy; heroin addicts continue to shoot up in broad daylight. This is the neighbourhood the market made.

Since the Council won’t address this, residents are stepping up to the plate. They’ve forced Salboy to return to their designs; the development firm now propose retaining the remaining warehouse on site. Galvanised, the group are determined to do all they can to save and foster their much loved neighbourhood.

The Labour city council has been in power for over thirty years and faces no meaningful opposition. It’s in the strongest possible position to take an active role and ensure its protecting and fostering sustainable neighbourhoods. And yet, despite the wake-up call of Brexit and the growing opposition to neoliberalism, old habits are dying hard.

The Northern Quarter is a case-study in what happens to a historic area when market logic goes to town. What is loved about the Northern Quarter is not due to the market or the Council but to its residents. And once again, they’re fighting back.

 
 
 
 

Segregated playgrounds are just the start: inequality is built into the fabric of our cities

Yet more luxury flats. Image: Getty.

Developers in London have come under scrutiny for segregating people who live in social or affordable housing from residents who pay market rates. Prominent cases have included children from social housing being blocked from using a playground in a new development, and “poor doors” providing separate entrances for social housing residents.

Of course, segregation has long been a reality in cities around the world. For example, gated communities have been documented in the US cities since the 1970s, while racially segregated urban areas existed in South Africa under apartheid. Research by myself and other academics has shown that urban spaces which divide and exclude society’s poorer or more vulnerable citizens are still expanding rapidly, even replacing public provision of facilities and services – such as parks and playgrounds – in cities around the world.

Gated developments in Gurgaon, India, have created a patchwork of privatised services; elite developments in Hanoi, Vietnam, offer rich residents cleaner air; and luxury condos in Toronto, Canada, displace local residents in favour of foreign investors. An extreme example is the Eko Atlantic project in Nigeria – a private city being built in Lagos, where the majority of other residents face extreme levels of deprivation and poverty.

A commodity, or a right?

Although these developments come with their own unique context and characteristics, they all have one thing in common: they effectively segregate city dwellers. By providing the sorts of facilities and services which would normally be run by public authorities, but reserving them exclusively for certain residents, such developments threaten the wider public’s access to green spaces, decent housing, playgrounds and even safe sewage systems.

Access to basic services, which was once considered to be the right of all citizens, is at risk of becoming a commodity. Privatisation may start with minor services such as the landscaping or upkeep of neighbourhoods: for example, the maintenance of some new-build estates in the UK are being left to developers in return for a service charge. This might seem insignificant, but it introduces an unregulated cost for the residents.

Privatising the provision of municipal services may be seen by some as a way for wealthier residents to enjoy a better standard of living – as in Hanoi. But in the worst cases, it puts in a paywall in front of fundamental services such as sewage disposal – as happened in Gurgaon. In other words, privatisation may start with insignificant services and expand to more fundamental ones, creating greater segregation and inequality in cities.


A divided city

My own research on branded housing projects in Turkey has highlighted the drastic consequences of the gradual expansion of exclusive services and facilities through segregated developments. These private housing developments – known for their extensive use of branding – have sprung up in Istanbul and other Turkish cities over the past two decades, since the government began to favour a more neoliberal approach.

By 2014, there were more than 800 branded housing projects in Istanbul alone. They vary in scale from a single high-rise building to developments aiming to accommodate more than 20,000 residents. Today, this development type can be seen in every city in Turkey, from small towns to the largest metropolitan areas.

The branded housing projects are segregated by design, often featuring a single tower or an enclosing cluster of buildings, as well as walls and fences. They provide an extensive array of services and facilities exclusively for their residents, including parks, playgrounds, sports pitches, health clinics and landscaping.

Making the same services and facilities available within each project effectively prevents interaction between residents and people living outside of their development. What’s more, these projects often exist in neighbourhoods which lack publicly accessible open spaces such as parks and playgrounds.

This is a city-wide problem in Istanbul since the amount of publicly accessible green spaces in Istanbul is as low as 2.2 per cent of the total urban area. In London, 33 per cent of the city’s area is made up of parks and gardens open to the public – which shows the severity of the problem in Istanbul.

These branded housing projects do not feature any affordable units or social housing, so there are no opportunities for less privileged city-dwellers to enjoy vital facilities such as green spaces. This has knock-on effects on excluded residents’ mental and physical health, contributing to greater inequality in these respects, too.

Emerging alternatives

To prevent increasing inequality, exclusion and segregation in cities, fundamental urban services must be maintained or improved and kept in public ownership and made accessible for every city-dweller. There are emerging alternatives that show ways to do this and challenge privatisation policies.

For example, in some cities, local governments have “remunicipalised” key services, bringing them back into public ownership. A report by Dutch think-tank the Transnational Institute identified 235 cases where water supplies were remunicipalised across 37 countries between 2000 and 2015. The water remunicipalisation tracker keeps track of successful examples of remunicipalisation cases around the world, as well as ongoing campaigns.

It is vitally important to keep urban services public and reverse subtle forms or privatisation by focusing on delivering a decent standard of living for all residents. Local authorities need to be committed to this goal – but they must also receive adequate funds from local taxes and central governments. Only then, will quality services be available to all people living in cities.

The Conversation

Bilge Serin, Research Associate, University of Glasgow.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.