To bridge England’s productivity gap, the government should plan the north’s housing and transport together

Houses and bicycles in Hulme, Greater Manchester. Image: Getty.

At a meeting with the Northern Metro Mayors last year, chancellor Philip Hammond said that increasing productivity in the north of England is vital to the government’s plans to boost economic growth.

The scale of that productivity challenge is vast. According to an excellent report from the Centre for Cities, cities in the South East of England are a whopping 44 per cent more productive than cities in other parts of the country. The think tank estimates that, if all British cities were as productive as those in the South East, the national economy would be over £200bn larger. 

To boost productivity levels across Britain, regions need to be able to attract and maintain the kind of highly skilled talent which companies seek when choosing where to set up their operating base. A recent Homes for the North report found that over the past decade 300,000 highly skilled workers had left the north. Retaining this talent will require both better transport links and more quality and affordable homes. The challenge is enormous. 

To be fair to the government, the aim of its modern industrial strategy is to tackle the productivity problem over the next 30 years, ensuring that all parts of Britain can participate in and prosper in what policy wonks have termed “the fourth industrial revolution” – the labour market of the future. 

While the fruits of this industrial strategy will not be felt immediately, the government has made some other encouraging moves which could help attract investment and talent to the north. 

The decision to establish combined authorities and regional mayors to allow local councils to pool responsibilities and receive specific functions from central government means locally elected and accountable leaders, not Whitehall, will be responsible for more decisions over housing and transport investment. 

It is also good news that Transport for the North (TfN) will become a statutory body. TfN is a true pan northern organisation which can help identify the infrastructure priorities that the region wants and needs. The government’s decision to create a sub-national transport body is welcome – although it does need budget responsibilities to be truly transformational.

Research from the Mace demonstrates the opportunities that TfN could grasp to deliver real economic growth across the north. The construction consultancy found that reducing average journey times by 60 seconds across the north of England could lead to £1bn a year extra in productivity gains. 

However, when it comes to housing in the north the picture is less rosy. While the Prime Minister has clearly made housing a political and economic priority, recent moves by the Government risk undermining the housebuilding efforts across the north.

The reason for this can be traced to a set of proposed changes the government put forward before Christmas on how local councils assess future housing need. The aim was to exert pressure on local authorities to increase the number of new homes they plan to build. Unfortunately the draft methodology is flawed. It focuses on councils using a new, backwards-looking methodology based on growth assumptions which reflect today’s problems rather than tomorrow’s aspirations.


Councils are not required to plan housing to match their plans for economic growth. Instead the new numbers will only require them to plan in accordance with what is in effect historic trends. If this seems counter-intuitive, hostile to aspiration and growth, it is because it is. As a result, thousands of homes have been shaved off local benchmarks in the north. The proposed changes effectively amount to an anti-northern bias and a potential cap on economic growth across the north. Common sense must prevail.

New quality housing for rent and for purchase – hand in hand with an upgraded transport system – could act as an economic boon to the northern economy. However, infrastructure investment is currently viewed in silos. Decisions over new or upgraded road and rail routes have to be made in conjunction with an assessment of how many new homes should be built as demand increases. Quite simply, if the necessary homes do not follow, there is a danger that infrastructure investment will be squandered. 

Improving infrastructure across the north could truly unleash the Northern Powerhouse. The further devolution of powers is vital. So too is unlocking the purse strings and giving local leaders the funding they require. Finally, the north needs a sub-national coordinating body – whether under the auspices of TfN or something else – which can deliver a coherent plan to deliver the investment we need in our railways and roads, energy infrastructure, as well the hundreds of thousands of new homes the region requires over the coming decades. 

If the chancellor seizes this agenda then the government’s industrial strategy really could work in the interests of the north.

Mark Henderson is chair of Homes for the North.

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How getting a dog made me hate London less

A dog called Martha. Image: Jamie Ross.

I never have been anything but a staunch hater of London. Growing up in what a friend from Chicago called “a forest reserve”, my entire life has been split between a suburban one in a leafy town near Dayton, Ohio and an urban one, spent in stupidly pretty, and still fairly leafy, Edinburgh. I moved to London for a hot second in 2016, hated my job as well as my surroundings, and left, pretty much immediately.

And then, almost two years later, I was offered my current role at the New Statesman, and I packed up my shit and dragged my reluctant boyfriend with me to do it all over again. I sort of enjoyed my summer in London – but I felt strongly that living in the city would never feel like anything other than a necessary evil.

I live in – this is your moment to laugh and call me a posh prick – Notting Hill. It’s a decent location, has more trees and parks than other parts of the city, and, most importantly, is the closest I could get to replicating my old neighbourhood of Stockbridge in Edinburgh, which I loved dearly. But even this isn’t enough to entirely counteract the fact my physical surroundings, on my commute to the office by the Temple, made me feel constantly claustrophobic and stressed. London is cold and unfriendly, compared to many parts of this country, and it is filthy – not in a snobby, prissy, precious fuckhead way, but in a “My life expectancy has probably dropped by three years breathing in this polluted air and stepping on broken glass” way. For my first few months in London, in the middle of the heat wave, walking the streets was like walking through an endless sludge: this was not a city I liked nor one I, really, wanted to live in.

Until I got a puppy.

The one condition my boyfriend imposed when he agreed to trudge down to London with me was that we find a flat where our letting agreement said that we could have dog. So, three months after our move, we got Martha, a twelve-week-old black cockapoo.

Getting her changed our lives in a lot of ways. It’s made it impossible for us to leave the house without having a human being on attendance to watch her like a hawk. It means I now have to wake up at 6:45am every day, weekends included, so that she can take a shit. She has improved our lives remarkably - I mean, we have a living floof doing sweet and adorable shit in our house – but she has changed things a lot.

And the thing I least expected this goddam dog to change has been the way has made me feel more integrated into this godforsaken city: she’s made me appreciate London, even with its downsides.

Actually, something else happened, without which I don’t think my point of view would have changed. Almost immediately after getting Martha – and I mean, like, within hours – I contracted a disgusting cold. The day after that cold cleared up, I got violent conjunctivitis, like the disgusting seven-year-old I am, which took a week to get over.

These two illnesses, combined, lasted around two weeks, so I was trapped at home for roughly seven days of the ten I would normally have been at work. That meant I was around to relieve the puppy burden from my home-working boyfriend.

I was tasked with dragging my puss-filled eyes out to let our dog have a run around, and to get her to piss every couple of hours. This new responsibility forced me to explore the neighbourhood that, for the three months previous, I had generally ignored. What I thought was the worst timing known to man was, not to exaggerate, life-changing. I’m not sure I would have come to this realisation about my new home had it not happened.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Another great day at the park! Pic by fellow small creature @esther.dominy.

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

Happy City by Charles Montgomery is a book all about how urban planning can make or break our wellbeing – what commutes, cars, bikes, and greenspace do to our mental health. One portion of the book is spent debunking the idea that the sheer amount of greenspace in an area is what makes us happy. Montgomery argues that it’s actually the regularity of greenspace that makes a real difference – it’s not just how much grass and trees there is in the city you live in, but how often you get to see it.


Pre-Martha, my exposure to grass amounted to the occasional lunch in a garden and a visit to Hyde Park once or twice a month. But within a matter of days of getting a dog, I learned that I had not one, not two, not three, but five (five!) piss locations within five (again: five!) minutes of my house. Some were suitable for little more than the aforementioned – but others gave her enough room to run after sticks, leaves, tennis balls, and, her favourite, other dogs, so that she’d be pleasantly exhausted for the rest of the day. What I originally thought was just an expanse of buildings and pavement stretching from my flat to Hyde Park was actually filled with pockets of green spaces that made this trash-laden hell-hole feel a lot less oppressive.

Spending time at parks where other dogs also go to piss meant I started to make relationships with other dog-owners too. For the first time in any place I’ve lived in outside of my home town, I actually started to meet my neighbours, and learn about things that were happening in my neighbourhood, that I would never otherwise never known about. I now know Tiggy, Rex, Bubba, and Charlie, as well as their respective owners. I also know about good pubs, family-run restaurants, and free events that are far better than the deeply average, pretentious brunch place recommended to me by The Culture Trip. My neighbourhood has feeling like a dead space between Tesco, my bus stop, and the tube, to a place I can see as a respite from the rest of this stressful city, full of people I know and new places I’d have otherwise not thought twice about.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Me and some new friends from the other day! Hoping for some more social time this weekend 

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

And taking her out at the same time every day, around the 7am mark, means we then almost always run into the same people. A very sweet kid walks to school around the same time and always smiles at her. We see the same woman with her dog, who always greets Martha with aggressive barking, ultimately ending in a congenial ass sniff. We let her jump up at the incredibly patient builders doing construction on a building at the end of our street.

This morning ritual, seeing my neighbourhood when it’s not rammed with tourists but is quiet and reserved for people who live or work nearby, has become a way to decompress at the start of every day. And as a woman, being up and out when it’s often dark, but seeing people I now recognise, means my neighbourhood has become less intimidating. For the first time in London, I feel safe and comfortable even late at night.

Beyond the confines of my neighbourhood, Martha has made me see London, not for what it does for me, but for what it provides for her. Never have I ever had such an appreciation for London’s public transport system than when I got my dog, who wears a big stupid grin at all times when riding the bus. (Her internal monologue honestly appears to be an endless loop of, “ALL OF THIS STUFF WOW MORE STUFF OH GOD REALLY COULD THERE ACTUALLY BE MORE STUFF HELLO EVERYONE HI OH HI WOULD YOU LIKE TO PET MY HEAD?”)

Even long journeys are now a delight, because watching your puppy be amazed, fascinated, and happy at all times, eventually passing out from exhaustion at all the energy expended, is incredibly heart-warming. Faced from the bus, London, even at its busiest, feels far better with my dog than on my own: her pure, unadulterated excitement is enough to make holding a wild animal on a packed motor vehicle worthwhile.

 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

dad taught me love • dad taught me patience • dad taught me pain

A post shared by Martha The Dog (@heythereitsmartha) on

I’m almost certain I will never love London. I don’t think I will ever feel charmed enough by the charming parts to outweigh the onslaught of the, often, literal shit it brings with it. Not everything about having a dog in London is great, of course: there is trash everywhere, trash I used to pass nonchalantly but now have to heave my dog away from in case she eats a used condom or even another dog’s shit. And, obviously, living in a city is probably never great for an animal compared to, say, a suburb or the countryside.

But through my dog I’ve learned what’s actually around me, not just what I narrowly perceive on my begrudging walk to work. Doing that has made London feel a lot less like my own personal hell. Slowly, Martha is making London like some kind of twisted, imperfect, home for me.

Sarah Manavis is the digital culture and tech writer at the New Statesman. She tweets as @sarahmanavis.

Martha Ross-Manavis is small and cute dog. You can follow her on Instagram at @heythereitsmartha.