“Sadiq Khan has a defining decision to make”: on the morality of demolishing communities against their will

Protesters at Cressingham Gardens. Image: Charlie Clemoes.

Publication of the mayor of London’s revised Good Practice Guide to Estate Regeneration has been suspiciously delayed after Jeremy Corbyn backed resident ballots. Late consultation responses since Grenfell Tower may be one reason. But Sadiq Khan also has a defining decision to make – on residents’ right to vote to approve or reject proposals to demolish their homes.

Whose side will he come down on: some influential Labour councils and land-hungry developers? Or the 2m Londoners living on social housing estates, and the London Assembly’s Labour Group, amongst many others? The signs so far suggest a fudge.

Leaders of boroughs like Haringey don’t want ballots to interfere with their current right to demolish estates against resident opposition. Labour’s shadow housing minister, John Healey, has already been persuaded to clarify that the central party isn’t saying that elections should be required now. Instead votes will only become necessary under a future Labour government, after investment could be stepped up. In other words, Labour now see giving residents voting rights to veto schemes that could ruin their lives is as a good thing – but they’ll have to wait until 2022.

So far, Sadiq Khan has also ignored overwhelming grass roots support for elections. Unlike all other guidance, his draft 2016 standards consciously failed to even recommend ballots, claiming that, “in most cases, surveys... will be appropriate ways to test... views and satisfaction with proposals”.

But topic guides for a recent City Hall Housing Strategy consultation stated that his revised guidance, due “shortly”, will set out “conditions in which ballots will be required”. Campaigners’ relief at a potentially huge policy change was instantly tempered by sickening deja vu. One said, “He’ll give councils a get out again. Somehow. I just know it.”

Boris Johnson also turned a blind eye to communities being wrecked, mostly by Labour councils – though both the motivations behind ‘regeneration’ schemes and their results have changed for the worse since drastic funding cuts. Without naming names, Sadiq Kahn’s manifesto recognised failings, by saying that demolitions should only be allowed if residents support them. Then his original draft guidance claimed surveys were the best measure.  

Elections versus surveys

Ongoing travesties in Lambeth say different. At Central Hill a substantial survey by residents found 78 per cent opposition to demolition, 4 per cent in favour, and 18 per cent don’t knows. By contrast, an independent ‘Test of Opinion’ designed by Lambeth showed 47.6 per cent for; 39.4 per cent against; and 13 per cent undecided. (The figures include residents of all tenures.)

Many questionnaires were filled out by researchers with council officers present at consultation events. Response rates were similar; between 65 per cent-72 per cent of households, or around 38 per cent-40 per cent of all adults. All this suggests that some peoples’ answers depended on who asked the questions and how, and the scant information they were given.

There were similar problems at Cressingham Gardens, where residents complained that initially they weren’t allowed to fill in questionnaires themselves, or see what researchers had written. Their own survey showed 86 per cent opposition versus just 4 per cent support, with a 72 per cent response rate. Lambeth conceded that there was a “preference for refurbishment”, but plans to demolish all 306 homes regardless.


Does anyone really need reminding why Athens invented democracy, not consumer research questionnaires? In both cases majority support for ‘regeneration’ has obviously not been demonstrated. But Lambeth has ruled out ballots, against recommendations from the London Assembly's Housing Committee, and its own Overview & Scrutiny panel, where officers clarified that ‘Tests of Opinion’ only ‘inform’ decisions rather than ‘governing’ them. Consultations were another box-ticking sham to meet a legal duty to ‘meaningfully’ consult.

Whose side will Khan take? Different fudges are possible. On behalf of Labour London Assembly members, housing spokesman Tom Copley expressed, disappointment at the absence of ballots in the case of demolition, proposing that a “certain percentage of residents... calling for a ballot should trigger one”. But who wouldn’t call for a right to vote to protect their futures?

Alternatively, if elections were only required from some future date, councils and housing associations could carry on with existing plans, without having to improve current ‘offers’ to residents to win their support in elections. Alternatively, ballots might only be ‘required’ if minimum conditions aren’t – like providing enough replacement social rent homes are not met.

But such triggers for elections wouldn’t address inherent flaws in redevelopment schemes. Specific standards were glaringly absent from the draft guidelines’ vague principles, which effectively only required landlords not to break shamefully inadequate laws.

Why legal safeguards ruin lives

Votes matter because estate regenerations ruin some peoples’ lives. That’s true even if enough affordable replacement homes are provided and demolitions are carefully phased to deliver a theoretical ‘right to return,’ unlike in Southwark. Commonly held assumptions are false: estates aren’t bulldozed because they need to be, and residents don’t get re-housed on the same terms.

Lambeth’s strategy exposes the inherent flaws. Council-owned companies can deliver more genuinely affordable homes than joint-ventures with developers, because councils can capture a larger share of profit margins, but their plans are still mostly private sector-led. In future public investment could deliver much more.

Under the current system, some tenants will be priced out of their communities by 25 per cent rises in ‘social’ rents for replacement flats, because the rent-setting formula is partly based on property values, which will increase by more than half. Older or poorer owners, unable to transfer mortgages, can be forced into the private rented sector. Shared ownership options can also treble housing costs, and lead to eviction for rent arrears. In the Guardian, Aditya Chakrabortty and Sophie Robinson-Tillett have documented the impacts on some real lives, along with Southwark’s 35 per cent Campaign and Architects for Social Housing.

Increasingly the main selection criteria for demolitions has little or nothing to do with ‘unviable’ repair costs. Instead landlords choose marketable locations with opportunities to increase density, to maximise revenues through public-private partnerships, partly to plug relentless budget cuts to General Fund services like social care.

Accept that logic and we’d start tearing down estates to fund the NHS – except many patients and staff would have nowhere to live. These are the consequences of market fundamentalism in a wilfully incompetent, self-pauperising state. To force schemes through, usually viable alternatives to demolitions are dismissed without even giving residents full information on the costs and revenues for all future options.

If Sadiq Khan decides not to require ballots, starting immediately, he’ll give councils and housing associations a green light to expose his general principles as worthless on the main life-changing issues. In terms of raw politics, here’s his dilemma: no votes to ‘redevelopments’ would reduce overall housing supply, at least short-term; but denying ballots could make him the potential enemy of 2m Londoners.

Then again, most would only find out how vulnerable they are one estate at a time – so the damage in next May’s local elections might be limited to a few ex-Labour councillors in Lambeth, Southwark, and Haringey.

Longer term, Khan’s planning powers will keep putting him centre-stage. Rubber stamping death warrants for Cressingham Gardens or Central Hill would very publicly tear up his manifesto promise to stop forced demolitions and tell 786,000 London households that no one is safe. Significantly, neither estate features among Lambeth’s first Compulsory Purchase Orders.

The political fallout will go on for years, as local Labour Parties split and voters ask: who’s next?

Tony Coyne is a freelance journalist and housing activist living in London.

 
 
 
 

It’s not all cool bridges and very real concerns: In defence of Teesside

Just one of the many interesting bridges you’ll find in Teesside. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

The latest entry in our ‘In Defence Of’ series...

I have to start this with a disclaimer: I’m not writing this from anywhere in Teesside. I’m writing this from Germany, where I live and work. Some of you may remember being told by Norman Tebbit, that instead of complaining that we can’t find jobs, we should get on our bikes (or, more recently, by IDS to get on a bus), and I did. I’m paid well here, to do a job that doesn’t really exist in Teesside. And yet, every time I go home to visit my family, I almost wish I’d stayed.

This isn’t going to be a very straightforward take – I’m hoping to pay my respects to Stockton, Middlesbrough and Hartlepool as well as my native Billingham – but Teesside isn’t a very straightforward place. What county is it in? Cleveland, Stockton-on-Tees, Durham or North Yorkshire depending on how old you are and where you’re standing. I always had great fun ordering online and trying to guess which of the unfamiliar options on the dropdown menu would get my parcel to me.

But regardless of where you draw the lines, Teesside is still there.

Our accent is similarly hard to pin down: Geordie, Mackem, Yorkshire, even Scouse, depending on who’s imitating us. I’ve been pegged as Irish, American and South African by determined people in the past. Our slang is stolen from Scotland, Northumberland, Newcastle and Yorkshire, and, not satisfied, some words are purely our own. Hoy, shan, howay, dinner nanny. We have as many words for classless people as the Romans did for murder.

But regardless of how it sounds to you, Teesside still talks.


On a map of the UK, Teesside sits as an isolated blob of civilisation between the Dales and the sea. Half-urban, half-rural, half-seaside, half-inland, half industrial estate and half nature reserve. A Labour heartland with a Tory mayor. Places that sprang up fully formed in the ICI rush of the 1950s, but that still have Viking place names.

We’ve been portrayed in fiction by Richard Milward, in song by Maximo Park, in statistics by Lady Florence Bell and in cinema by Sir Ridley Scott (our chemical works and power plants inspired the look of Blade Runner). More recently, we’re being portrayed in documentary in The Mighty Redcar, and in the media as an area of left-behind, white working class racists who all voted Leave. But while most of the area is whiter than the average, Middlesbrough mirrors the UK average for racial diversity and has been assigned to resettle more refugees than any other town in the UK – and more than its cut-back council can look after.

And when you look at the numbers, the proportion of the population of Teesside who voted to leave the EU is much less than many other areas. (And yes, of course I voted Remain from my now slightly more precarious home in Frankfurt, joining 100,000 other Teesside Remainers.)

We’re pitied for the loss of the Teesside steelworks and derided for blaming the EU for it (when of course it was our own government’s sabotaging of EU attempts to block Chinese steel dumping that drove that knife in). Even the people who profess to be on our side take our angry, uneducated racism as fact, baking it into the premises of their arguments, which consist of addressing our “racist but real concerns”, and how to reach us.

But whether you understand us or not, whether you miss the point or not, we’ll continue to exist, long after we’ve been forgotten again.

Billingham town centre. One of the first pedestrianised town centres in the UK. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Still, while we’re in the spotlight, why not see what we have to offer? Come to see our rather wonderful collection of interesting bridges. See where the first public steam train ran, from Stockton to Darlington. Visit Mima, the modern art gallery in Middlesbrough and the 1960s utopia of Billingham’s pedestrianised town centre. Feel slightly uncomfortable around all the things that are named for Captain Cook (though the replica of the Endeavour at Stockton riverside is impressive regardless on your thoughts on its captain – and it’s the best you’ll see until they work out whether they’ve found the real one yet). Wander Middlesbrough’s thriving student/hipster district on Linthorpe RoadD – despite being a punchline during my youth, Teesside University has become a respected institution. Visit Billingham’s Folklore Festival in August, where as schoolchildren we’d watch troupes of folk dancers from across the world open-mouthed, and get their autographs afterwards as though they were celebrities.

Fried chicken, white sauce and cheese make the Teesside parmo. Perfect. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Try a parmo. Try the Billingham Catholic Club’s real ale, and stay for the bingo, which is called by a man with the most acrobatic mental arithmetic skills I’ve ever seen. Try a lemon top ice cream from Pacitto’s in Redcar and wonder why no one else has ever done this before. Lemon sorbet and vanilla ice cream! Together at last!

While you’re at the beach, take a ride on the Saltburn Cliff Lift, the oldest operating water-balance cliff lift in the UK. Pretend Saltburn is sort of in Teesside while you’re enjoying the view. Look out on beaches black with sea coal, washed up from undersea seams and nearby coal mines. Visit the golf course by Seaton Carew to catch a glimpse of a curlew or two, and watch the young seagulls pick up golf balls to crack them open by dropping them from a great height. Visit Seal Sands, whose owners can be observed lazing on the estuary banks whenever the tide is out. Or visit Saltholme, the RSPB nature reserve, where you can see avocets, Britain’s weirdest-looking and most beloved seabird.

Nature coexists with industry on Teesside. Image: Stephen Jorgensen-Murray.

Go white water rafting, bell boating or paddleboarding at the Tees Barrage, where there are so many seals that they’ve had to put up guards to keep them out of the way. The Tees used to be too polluted even to support salmon and trout, and now we have too many of one of Britain’s largest native mammals. The return of the seals to the Tees was the first documented case of seals returning to an industrial area. You’d be surprised at how well nature can thrive in the shadow of industry, colonising the quiet fields and marshy ponds on private land that are never disturbed, haunted by sika deer and shelducks, redshanks, knots, stonechats.

Teesside has plenty to offer. What it doesn’t have is the jobs to keep its younger generations from having to get on their bikes and leave. We aren’t aliens, or Jacob Rees-Mogg’s army of goblin henchbrexiteers. We’re just like you, but with more seals and fewer employment opportunities.