Housing associations' deal over right to buy could lead to the "social cleansing" of rich British cities

East London's New Era Estate. Image: Getty.

A gun to the head

Housing associations have until five o’clock on Friday afternoon to accept a “voluntary” deal on the right to buy that could change social housing for ever.

With 2.3m homes, housing associations are now the majority provider of affordable housing in Britain. The Conservative government was elected on a clear manifesto commitment to give housing association tenants parity with council tenants, by allowing them to buy their homes at a discount.

Yet rather than face the prospect of legislation that would force associations to sell their homes, the sector’s trade body, the National Housing Federation, has spent the summer conducting secret negotiations to offer a “voluntary deal” to the government. 

There is a great deal of ambiguity about the exact legal status of housing associations – but at present, their £60bn of debt does not sit on the government’s balance sheet. A compulsory Right to Buy scheme could change this forever: if private assets can be forcibly sold, they are clearly not private assets.

If the government were to find that it “owns” the debt, it could decide to move to privatise housing associations. The rumour is that investment bank Goldman Sachs has been appointed, to model how a nationalisation and privatisation of housing associations could be carried out. 

The NHF believes that introducing a voluntary Right to Buy scheme will avoid compulsion and stave off privatisation. To gauge how many housing associations would follow any voluntary scheme, it sent a form that resembles a ballot paper to 1,100 members of the NHF. Each association will get a vote proportional to the number of homes that they own.


In other words, a large association with 60,000 homes will have 60,000 votes on a single ballot paper. It’s akin to the old union block vote and, according to some critics, deeply undemocratic. (Editor’s note: The NHF say this is because it wishes to know how many homes would be included in the policy.)

Crucially, government statements earlier this year suggested that the discounts offered to tenants (up to £104,900 in London, £77,900 elsewhere) will be funded by the forced sale of high value council owned properties. The NHF doesn’t appear to have consulted the local authorities who would be affected by this “secret” deal, and many councillors are extremely angry.

The deal would allow housing associations to retain the receipt from any sales, and to build a replacement property of any tenure, including properties for outright sale. But individual housing associations will not be required to replace every property sold, or to replace them in the same area.

Instead, the sales and replacements will be totted up nationally – so associations could, at least in theory, sell high value properties in inner London and replace them in Sunderland. Critics fear that the Right to Buy, coupled with the forced sale of council stock, will lead to “social cleansing” in inner London and high value cities like Oxford and Cambridge. 

There are a number of questions hanging over this deal. How can housing associations be expected to make such a momentous decision so rapidly and based upon such scant information? Do individual housing associations and their trade body have a mandate to sell off what some still see as much-needed public assets?

Should the 66,000 families in temporary accommodation have a say? Or the 1.4m people on waiting lists? Or the millions of taxpayers who funded these schemes in the first place? And, crucially, why should Parliament be denied a vote on this critical issue?

The more you look at it, the more this looks like a grubby deal that requires proper public debate.

Colin Wiles is a housing and planning consultant at Wiles Consulting.

 
 
 
 

What’s behind the rise of the ornamental restaurant toilet?

Toilets at Sketch restaurant, London. Image: Nik Stanbridge/Flickr.

A few weeks ago, I found myself in the toilets of a zeitgeisty new Italian restaurant in east London called Gloria. As with so many contemporary restaurant toilets, those in question were an aesthetic extension of the establishment’s soul. The inventive menu was matched by two-way mirrored toilet doors.

The setup was this: cubicle occupants could see out while the unisex crowd milling around the taps could check their outfits on the exterior mirrors. All fun and games, I thought. But then I found myself mid toilet with a guy peering into my door to change his contact lens. Either he had spectacularly bad manners or he was unaware of the two-way door thing. (Let’s hope it’s the latter.)

Gloria’s toilets aren’t unique in their attempt to be distinctive. The loos at nearby Mr Fogg’s Maritime Club & Distillery are adorned with specimen boards of dead spiders. Meanwhile, Edinburgh’s The Sun Inn invites patrons to pee in buckets, and trumpets double as urinals in The Bell Inn in East Sussex. Men can wee into the vista if they’re dining in the Shard. And Sketch’s ovum shaped loos are the stuff of urban legend.

Further afield, transparent doors become frosted only after they’re locked at Brussels’ Belga Queen. In Otto’s Bierhalle in Toronto, diners can press a button to activate their own private rave. And the toilets in Robot Restaurant in Tokyo have gold-plated interiors and dancing robots.

What’s behind this trend? Are quirky toilets just a bit of fun – or an unnecessary complication to the simple act of going for a wee and checking you don’t have tomato sauce on your chin?

Yotam Ottolenghi’s London flagship restaurant Nopi crops up often in conversations about restaurant bathrooms. A hall of mirrors glitters enticingly ahead of loo-bound diners. “The bathroom needs to be the nicest part [of] the whole place because that’s where you’re on your own,” says Alex Meitlis, the designer behind the space.

But no one is truly alone in 2019. If surveys are to be believed, nearly 65 per cent of millennials take their phone to the bathroom with them. Mike Gibson, who edits the London food and drink magazine Foodism agrees that the bathroom selfie – searches for which, incidentally, yield over 1.5m results on Instagram – is part of the reason that contemporary lavatory design is so attention seeking.


“Any new venue that's opening will be super aware that there's probably not an inch of their restaurant that won't be photographed or filmed at some point”, he says. But bathrooms like Nopi’s predate this trend. Indeed, Meitlis believes he has created a haven from the smartphone obsession; Nopi’s mirrors are angled in such a way that means you have to seek out your reflection. “You can choose whether to look for yourself in the mirror or not.”

Another driving force is the increasingly competitive restaurant landscape. “It’s almost like there’s some sort of ever-escalating competition going on amongst new openings, which makes every visit a faintly terrifying experience”, says food writer and New Statesman contributor Felicity Cloake. Gibson agrees. “Restaurants want an edge wherever possible, and design definitely comes into that.”

So novelty bathrooms get you noticed, promote social media engagement and entertain diners who are momentarily without the distraction of company. (Although, it must be said, quirky bathrooms tend to make the loo trip a more sociable experience; a Gloria spokesperson described the restaurant’s toilets as somewhere you can “have a good laugh and meet people along the way.”)

Nevertheless, I’m not the only one who finds bathroom surprises disconcerting.  One TripAdvisor user thought the Belga Queen loos were “scary”. And a friend reports that her wonderment at the Nopi bathroom was laced with mirror maze induced nausea – and mild panic when she realised she didn’t know the way out. Should restaurants save the thrills for the food?

“I think it's important not to be too snarky about these things – restaurants are meant to playful,” says Gibson. Cloake agrees that novelty is fine, but adds: “my favourite are places like Zelman Meats in Soho that have somewhere in the dining room where you can easily wash your hands before sitting down and tucking in.”

So perhaps we should leave toilets unadorned and instead ramp up the ornamentation elsewhere. Until then, I’ll be erecting a makeshift curtain in all mirrored toilets I encounter in future. An extreme reaction, you might say. But, as I wish I could have told the rogue contact lens inserter, it’s not nice to pry into someone else’s business.