The threat of Hexit: could the London Borough of Havering really be about to secede from the capital?

Here we go again. Image: Getty.

It’s easy, when talking about politics, to belittle your opponents: to treat those who disagree with you, not as smart, decent, honourable people who simply happen to hold different views, but as misguided, stupid or, worst of all, evil.

This problem, I suspect, has always been there. But now, in the age of social media and filter bubbles, we can see it happening in real time. Indeed, we can get pulled into it, finding ourselves moved to mock or abuse the other side by nothing more than the desire for the likes or retweets that signal the approval of the in group.

This is a terrible trend that is gradually rotting the body politic from the inside, and I wish I knew how to stop it. Sadly, I don’t. So:

Bloody hell, look at this bunch of fucking muppets. From the Evening Standard:

Havering Council is set to vote on a plan dubbed ‘Hexit’, under which it would seek to renegotiate its relationship with the London Mayor and City Hall.

But the proposal - tabled by Ukip councillor Lawrence Webb - has split opinion in the borough.

Mr Webb said the plan was about “taking control” of the area’s future, but critics argued it could lead to major changes in policing and other emergency services.

Havering, if you’ve never been there, is London’s easternmost borough: a chevron-shaped chunk of suburbia pointing out into Essex, the county from which it was carved and to which it still feels an emotional pull. Its largest town is Romford; it also contains Hornchurch, Upminster and not a great deal else.

It is also, it’s worth noting, London’s whitest borough. In 2013, the population of London was 42 per cent black or minority ethnic. In Havering, it was just 14, which actually makes it slightly whiter than England as a whole (15 per cent). This may go some way to explain the borough’s identity crisis, and the fact that, even after 52 years as part of the capital, many there don’t feel like Londoners.

Much of the city prides itself on its diversity and its openness to people of all races and identities. Havering, though, looks politically much more like the Essex commuter towns to its east. Nearly 70 per cent of its voters opted for Leave in last year’s referendum on Brexit. Of the borough’s 54 councillors, just two are from the Labour party. It’s dwarfed not only by the Tories (22) and UKIP (6), but by three different residents’ associations. The borders of Havering are just eight miles from Hackney. Culturally, though, they’re on different planets.

So. Leaving Greater London would be a sensible idea then, right?

Wrong. It would be a very, very silly one.

Lawrence Webb has form for this kind of embarrassing grandstanding. In January 2016, the UKIP councillor orchestrated another vote, in which Havering voted to leave the European Union. What the point of this was I’m not exactly clear, since London Boroughs are not really allowed to set their own foreign policy, but it clearly made the local UKIP lot feel big, which I guess was the important thing.


(When I wrote about this, incidentally, I was accused on Twitter of being a typical metro lib showing contempt for the natives. I pointed out that I grew up in Havering, that most of my family still live there, and that I in fact I am one of the natives. I also asked my accusers when they’d last visited a place they were so concerned to speak for. Eighteen months on, I am still awaiting their response.)

In fact, there are genuine parallels between Brexit and Hexit: both votes represent a clash between identity and practicality. Yes, in terms of how people perceive of themselves, there are many in the borough who think of it as Essex more than London. But when you’re thinking about boring practical things like transport, policing or emergency services – or, in the case of Brexit, like trade regulations or what to do with nuclear fuels – identity is not always a great guide to what you should do.

After all, the residents of Havering need to be able to commute to the City or Canary wharf. The local buses need to cross borough boundaries, into Barking or Redbridge. The borough is part of London’s housing market, too, so the idea of running an entirely independent planning policy strikes me as a nonsense: in physical terms, it’s part of the broader conurbation, and it makes sense to manage it as such.

What’s more, were the council to quit London and become a unitary authority, it would find itself responsible for a whole bunch of support services that are currently pooled across Greater London. This, one suspects, might be expensive. To be fair to the council leader, the Tory Roger Ramsey, he seems acutely aware of this:

...Ramsey slammed the idea, saying the potential move would be a “complex adjustment” for Havering residents that would affect major services.

He said: “We’re part of the Metropolitan Police, the London Fire Brigade, Transport for London, and that would be lost.”

In other words, feeling like you’re from Essex is all very well. But you still can’t eat sovereignty.

The vote on whether to renegotiate Havering’s relationship to the capital takes place on Wednesday 26 July. But the results won’t matter, I suspect. As a council vote, not a referendum, it will carry less force than the Brexit vote. More importantly, the council has no power to unilaterally quit Greater London. To quote a spokesman for the communities department:

“The boundaries in London are set by parliament – any changes would require further legislation.”

Somehow, I don’t imagine this being a priority. So my instinct is that Hexit is never going to happen.

Then again, I thought that about Brexit, too.

Bloody hell, though. Look at these muppets.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and also has a Facebook page now for some reason. 

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Does it matter that TfL are renaming White Hart Lane station Tottenham Hotspur?

New White Hart Lane. Image: Getty.

Pretend for a moment that you’re travelling in the London of 1932. You’re taking the Piccadilly Line northbound and alight at Gillespie Road station. The name should be obvious: it’s inscribed in bespoke brown tiling on the platform.

But that 31 October, following an intense campaign by the eponymous football club, the London County Council changed the station’s name to Arsenal (Highbury Hill). The area’s growing association with the name “Arsenal” ended in a lengthy negotiation that changed maps, signs and train tickets alike. Football had acquired so much power that it changed the name of not just a Tube station but an entire suburb, even before the era of Wenger or the Emirates.

Now the spectre of name changes is on the horizon once again. As Tottenham Hotspur FC inches closer to completing its new stadium, the club is clamouring for a renamed Overground station. Despite the fact the new stadium is located on almost exactly the same site as the old just off White Hart Lane, and fans have long been calling the scaffolding-laden mess “New White Hart Lane”, the club’s executive director is adamant that the station’s existing name cannot stand. White Hart Lane station, on the Overground line leaving Liverpool Street, is set to be renamed “Tottenham Hotspur”, at a cost to the club of £14.7m.

Little has been made of the fact that this peculiar PR kerfuffle is tied to Spurs’ failure to convince Nike to sponsor the venue. Some sources have even claimed that the sponsorship is yet to be finalised because it is somehow contingent on the renaming of the Overground station; beyond the ridiculous Johnson-era vanity project that was the Emirates Air Line, it seems improbable that TfL will allow any more corporate-flavoured information pollution. There will be no “Nike Stadium” station on the way to Enfield, much as there is no “Emirates” on the way to Cockfosters, especially if public consultation gets a look in.

The scene of the crime. Image: TfL.

But there’s a problem with the new name, all the same. “White Hart Lane” already means “football stadium”, in the same way Loftus Road or Stamford Bridge do. Changing it to “Tottenham Hotspur” risks opening the floodgates to an “O2 North Greenwich” or a “Virgin Euston” at some point in future, names as banal as there are dystopian. The Greater London Authority has promised to spend the £14.7m fee on community programmes in the local area – but that’s not much money to set the precedent that a private company can mess about with the Tube map.


What’s more, as CityMetric has often observed, there are plenty of station names across London that could do with a tidy up. Picking one that’s perfect already and asking for £14.7m to change it is adding insult to injury. How much would it cost a community group if they asked to change the name of Goodge Street to Fitzrovia? Why does a vast corporate entity backed by international sponsors and thousands of season ticket holders get to set the standard?

Back in Arsenal’s day, changing names on the Tube must have been easy; changes could be accommodated gradually without bothering the every day traveller. But in our world of online information, maps and apps, name changes are rather more complicated.

The question is – if TfL can bring itself to balefully accept this particular proposition, why can’t it accept ours? Why sort out a single non-issue on the Tube Map when you can catch lots of real ones in one go? A day’s pandemonium might just be a price worth paying to fix the Bethnal Greens problem once and for all.