“You need only look up to see you’re rarely alone”: on the owls of Leeds

The owl on the front of Leeds Civil Hall. Image: Getty.

Change is nothing new when it comes to cities. I lived in Leeds for four years as a student, and in that time I saw a lot of architectural innovation. The Leeds First Direct Arena went up, as did Trinity, the huge, glassy shopping haven; the University itself has been in a near-permanent state of construction for the last few years.  The centre looks very different now compared to when I first moved there in 2012.

Through all of this modernisation and change, though, the plethora of decorative owls adorning the city’s buildings remained an ever-stable constant, taking the updates in their stride.

Owls have been part of Leeds’ heritage since their addition to the city’s coat of arms back in 1626. Three owls feature on the coat of arms, two flanking a golden fleece – a nod to wool textiles, Leeds’ most prominent industry at the time – and another perched at the top. The owls were originally depicted as silver in colour, and originated from Yorkshire MP Sir John Saville’s family coat of arms. They were added to the crest when he became first Alderman of Leeds – the titular head of the city council.

The Savilles came to Leeds from Anjou, in France, when William the Conqueror gifted them a large amount of land in Yorkshire in exchange for their support at the Battle of Hastings.


After their induction into the crest, the owls became both an accepted and expected part of Leeds’ civic persona. For over 400 years, it has been a tradition to integrate an owl or two into any new major building in the city.

In 2004, local artists Antonia Stowe and Clifford Stead set about investigating the history of the city’s owls and their inclusion on the Leeds coat of arms. They spent years on it, and their discoveries led to the opening of the Leeds Owl Trail in 2009.

In fact, there are two trails to follow: the Civic Owl Trail, consists of 10 sites mainly focused around the Civic Hall, while the Grand Owl Trail, takes in 25 spread all over the city centre. But those 25 owls are by no means an exhaustive list: owls lurk in every nook and cranny of the city, from tiny graffiti doodles on street corners to pins and badges decorating warm winter coats. 

The owls range dramatically in scale and design. The largest and most prominent owls are the four, nine-foot-tall birds that sit commandingly atop columns at the front and rear of the Civic Hall. They were created by the architect John Thorp, the last person to hold the title of Civic Architect in the UK, and were installed in 2000. It’s fitting that Thorp was the one to create these gargantuan guardians; he’s often cited as being the man who shaped modern Leeds.  

An interactive map of the owls.

Looking down over the city and its residents from their fixed perches, you might expect the owls to lend an oppressive, Big Brother-esque feeling to the streets. But, I find them rather comforting in their quiet immutability and stoicism. They’re there through every season, watching from many a building top or street corner – you need only look up to see you’re rarely alone in Leeds. It’s hard to imagine anyone who couldn’t find something to enjoy in the game of owl-spotting – except, perhaps, ornithophobes.

The owls have seen me at my best (coming out of my finals, ecstatic to be finished); and at my worst (most likely the early hours of the morning the day after those finals, one too many pints down). Every time I glimpse something adorned with owls, I think of Leeds; it never fails to make me smile.

Some cities have roaring lions, some have fire-breathing dragons, but Leeds will always have its beloved feathered patrons to watch over its residents, unblinking and omniscient.  

Hannah Tomes tweets as @_hannah_tomes.

 
 
 
 

“Stop worrying about hairdressers”: The UK government has misdiagnosed its productivity problem

We’re going as fast as we can, here. Image: Getty.

Gonna level with you here, I have mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, I’m a huge fan of schadenfreude, so learning that it the government has messed up in a previously unsuspected way gives me this sort of warm glow inside. On the other hand, the way it’s been screwing up is probably making the country poorer, and exacerbating the north south divide. So, mixed reviews really.

Here’s the story. This week the Centre for Cities (CfC) published a major report on Britain’s productivity problem. For the last 200 years, ever since the industrial revolution, this country has got steadily richer. Since the financial crash, though, that seems to have stopped.

The standard narrative on this has it that the problem lies in the ‘long tail’ of unproductive businesses – that is, those that produce less value per hour. Get those guys humming, the thinking goes, and the productivity problem is sorted.

But the CfC’s new report says that this is exactly wrong. The wrong tail: Why Britain’s ‘long tail’ is not the cause of its productivity problems (excellent pun, there) delves into the data on productivity in different types of businesses and different cities, to demonstrate two big points.

The first is that the long tail is the wrong place to look for productivity gains. Many low productivity businesses are low productivity for a reason:

The ability of manufacturing to automate certain processes, or the development of ever more sophisticated computer software in information and communications have greatly increased the output that a worker produces in these industries. But while a fitness instructor may use a smartphone today in place of a ghetto blaster in 1990, he or she can still only instruct one class at a time. And a waiter or waitress can only serve so many tables. Of course, improvements such as the introduction of handheld electronic devices allow orders to be sent to the kitchen more efficiently, will bring benefits, but this improvements won’t radically increase the output of the waiter.

I’d add to that: there is only so fast that people want to eat. There’s a physical limit on the number of diners any restaurant can actually feed.

At any rate, the result of this is that it’s stupid to expect local service businesses to make step changes in productivity. If we actually want to improve productivity we should focus on those which are exporting services to a bigger market.  There are fewer of these, but the potential gains are much bigger. Here’s a chart:

The y-axis reflects number of businesses at different productivities, shown on the x-axis. So bigger numbers on the left are bad; bigger numbers on the right are good. 

The question of which exporting businesses are struggling to expand productivity is what leads to the report’s second insight:

Specifically it is the underperformance of exporting businesses in cities outside of the Greater South East that causes not only divergences across the country in wages and standards of living, but also hampers national productivity. These cities in particular should be of greatest concern to policy makers attempting to improve UK productivity overall.

In other words, it turned out, again, to the north-south divide that did it. I’m shocked. Are you shocked? This is my shocked face.

The best way to demonstrate this shocking insight is with some more graphs. This first one shows the distribution of productivity in local services business in four different types of place: cities in the south east (GSE) in light green, cities in the rest of the country (RoGB) in dark green, non-urban areas in the south east in purple, non-urban areas everywhere else in turquoise.

The four lines are fairly consistent. The light green, representing south eastern cities has a lower peak on the left, meaning slightly fewer low productivity businesses, but is slightly higher on the right, meaning slightly more high productivity businesses. In other words, local services businesses in the south eastern cities are more productive than those elsewhere – but the gap is pretty narrow. 

Now check out the same graph for exporting businesses:

The differences are much more pronounced. Areas outside those south eastern cities have many more lower productivity businesses (the peaks on the left) and significantly fewer high productivity ones (the lower numbers on the right).

In fact, outside the south east, cities are actually less productive than non-urban areas. This is really not what you’d expect to see, and no a good sign for the health of the economy:

The report also uses a few specific examples to illustrate this point. Compare Reading, one of Britain’s richest medium sized cities, with Hull, one of its poorest:

Or, looking to bigger cities, here’s Bristol and Sheffield:

In both cases, the poorer northern cities are clearly lacking in high-value exporting businesses. This is a problem because these don’t just provide well-paying jobs now: they’re also the ones that have the potential to make productivity gains that can lead to even better jobs. The report concludes:

This is a major cause for concern for the national economy – the underperformance of these cities goes a long way to explain both why the rest of Britain lags behind the Greater South East and why it performs poorly on a

European level. To illustrate the impact, if all cities were as productive as those in the Greater South East, the British economy would be 15 per cent more productive and £225bn larger. This is equivalent to Britain being home to four extra city economies the size of Birmingham.

In other words, the lesson here is: stop worrying about the productivity of hairdressers. Start worrying about the productivity of Hull.


You can read the Centre for Cities’ full report here.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and on Facebook as JonnElledgeWrites

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