This is why we ignore official UK city status: because it's really, really stupid

Doesn't look much like a city to me. St David's Cathedral. Image: Chris Rivers/Wikimedia Commons.

 This is St David's.

Click to expand, should that be something you wish to do. Image: Google.

St David's lies on the River Alun, on the aptly named St David's Peninsula in Pembrokeshire, the western extremity of Wales. It has a cathedral. It has a city hall.

But that's about all it has, if we're honest, because St David's is tiny: its population at the time of the 2011 census was just 1,841, which is a fraction of the population of a fair sized housing estate.

For this reason, it's not the sort of place that CityMetric would normally have much to say about. It’s not a major regional economic centre; there is no plan for a St David’s city devolution settlement. And there’s definitely no St David's Metro network because, well, look:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

I mean, what would be the point?

So why are we banging on about it today? Because, for 22 years, St David's has been Britain's smallest city. It was considered a city in archaic times, but lost the title in the 19th century when somebody pointed out it was silly. But we live in a very silly age, so in 1994, despite the fact it hadn’t really grown since then, it got its title back again.

This country is ludicrous sometimes.

St David’s is the most extreme example – but it's not the only UK "city" that is frankly not really worthy of the name. Here's St Asaph, at the other end of Wales, in Denbighshire:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

St Asaph is a bustling place compared to St David's: an incredible 3,355 people live there, and it even has a main road (the A55!). But it's still pretty small, as you can tell from the fact that, if you switch to Google Earth, you can just about make out individual houses.

Click to expand. Image: Google.

Then there's Wells, in Somerset, which with 10,500 people is a veritable metropolis:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

Truro, the capital of Cornwall, has nearly 19,000 people, making it almost twice as big again. And is so big that different districts of it actually have their own names:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

But it’s still only about an eighth the size of even the smallest London borough.

All these places have two things in common. One is that they have been recognised as cities by the British government, by either Royal Charter (a form of legal instrument in which the Crown bestows some ancient right), or letters patent (same).

Such status used to be pretty ad hoc and informal: some cities have had it for "time immemorial" (a posh way of saying "since no one knows when"); others were granted it by Henry VIII, when his campaign to reform the church required the setting up of a bunch of new cathedrals in a 16th century attempt to break up a sort of religious monopoly.

Then, three hundred years later, Queen Victoria started visiting places scattering city status in her wake. And these days roughly once a decade assorted local authorities spend a lot of public money trying to win ceremonial city status, which is definitely not a waste of anyone's time or money or anything.

The other thing these cities have in common is that today, with varying degrees of irony, people have mentioned their names to us on social media, and demanded to know why CityMetric doesn't recognise them as British cities.  Especially when we do recognise places that very definitely aren’t cities.

All this came up because, earlier, we ran an article under the following headline:

Southend is Britain's only high-wage, high-welfare city. What gives?

That article, by the Centre for Cities' Paul Swinney, is a fascinatingly wonkish piece of work about the unusual demographic and financial problems faced by the Essex commuter-town-cum-seaside-resort. But a lot of people seemed to reject the premise of the question, because they were too busy responding with things like this:

Now, officially, that much is true. Southend put in a bid for city status in 2012, but was rejected in favour of Essex’s county town, Chelmsford.

And yet, Southend is still comfortably the largest settlement in the county – indeed, in the whole of the East of England. The borough proper has a population of around 175,000; its wider urban area nearly 300,000. You could comfortably fit the whole of St David's into its central shopping area:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

Zoom the map out to the point where you can see most of the Southend area and, at the same scale, St David's all but disappears:

Click to expand. Image: Google.

So, in official legal terms, no, Southend is not a city, and yes, St David's is.

But in any sense that should matter to anyone who isn't a direct descendent of Edward III – population, economy, effect on the environment – it seems to us that Southend, a place substantially bigger than Reykjavík, has a far greater claim to coverage on a cities-focused news website than St David's.

So do places like Middlesbrough, and Bournemouth, and Reading, none of which are officially cities, but all of which face city-style problems. There's no universally accepted way of defining what should count as a city and what doesn't – but it seems self evident to us that places with 200,000 people have a better claim than those with 10,000 people.  

And so, while the British government keeps granting city status to villages with delusions of grandeur, or cities that are actually bits of other cities, we intend to go on ignoring it.

So there.


(And incidentally: No, you don't need a cathedral to win city status because it's not 1534. They scrapped that rule in the 19th century. So now you know.)

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric, and tweets as @jonnelledge.

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Five ways in which the rest of the world can avoid the homelessness crisis plaguing the US

Housing for all. Image: Nicobobinus/Flickr/creative commons.

Homelessness is a growing problem in the UK, where the number of people sleeping rough has doubled since 2010, yet it is dwarfed by the scale of the issue in the US. More than 500,000 homeless were found across the US during just one night, compared to the UK’s 2017 count of 4,751. Changes in the definition of homelessness and flawed methodologies suggest that the true number for the US could be anywhere from 2.5 to 10.2 times greater.

Millions more live in overcrowded or slum housing, forced to choose between the damage that poor conditions do to their physical and mental health, and the street. All of the US’s housing issues – from foreclosures to evictions to poor conditions – hit communities of colour the hardest.

This is due to a legacy of discrimination, which continues to undercut any commitment to safe and decent housing for all residents, whether in the private or public sector. In my recent book, City of Segregation, I explain how the long, violent history of creating spaces for the white and privileged classes is embedded in a number of practices, which continue in US cities to this day.

Exporting inequality

As private developers and investors seek out urban land in major cities around the world to secure their fortunes, real estate patterns and practices developed within the US are increasingly being observed elsewhere.

In cities as diverse as London, Sydney and Durban, community groups which have been working for decades to improve their neighbourhoods languish with little public or private resource. Meanwhile, developers create spaces for foreign investors and new residents, who anticipate certain protections and privileges such as greater security, high quality amenities and neighbours with similar interests and backgrounds.

This is a driving force behind rising evictions and the criminalisation of homelessness, alongside gated communities, hostile architecture, “broken windows” policing with its focus on prosecuting activities such as graffiti or jaywalking and the growing privatisation of public spaces through regeneration.

But there is still time for other countries to choose a different path. The UK, in particular, can build on the legacies of the post-war political consensus that all residents should have access to quality housing, and its acknowledgement of institutional racism and some history of government anti-racist campaigning.

Both legacies should be improved, but a renewed commitment to a programme of housing and anti-racism are central to increasing equality, prosperity and well-being for all. Based on my research, I’ve come up with five steps which the UK and countries like it can follow, to ensure that future development reduces – rather than drives – homelessness and inequality.


1. Build social housing

Unlike the US, the UK acknowledges a right to a home, and within living memory provided it for a huge swathe of British society. Social housing – whether in the form of traditional council flats, cooperatives or community land trusts – provides a variety of housing types and keeps rents from rising too far beyond wages.

When social housing is widely available, it makes a huge difference to people who – for one reason or another, and often through no fault of their own – become homeless. With social housing to fall back on, homelessness is a temporary condition which can be safely resolved. Without it, homelessness can become a life-destroying downwards spiral.

2. Preserve and expand community assets

Severe segregation in the US stripped entire communities of access to quality food, jobs, education, green spaces, services, banks and loans. Poverty is endemic, and can easily tip into homelessness. While far from perfect, the UK’s post-war commitment to universal provision of services, such as education and health care, and building social housing across all neighbourhoods underpinned a surge in upward mobility.

This achievement should be salvaged from the damage done by Right To Buy – a policy which sold off social housing without replacing it – and austerity, which has prompted a sell-off of public assets and land, as well as the closure of childrens’ services, libraries and community centres.

3. Decommodify housing

A market geared towards building apartment blocks for the portfolios of investors who will never live in them cannot produce the kind of housing and neighbourhoods which residents need, much less at a price they can afford.

While London has been badly affected for some time, this trend is now spreading to other areas of the UK and Europe. Local and national governments must act to prevent global demand for housing as investments from driving prices beyond the reach of those who need real homes.

4. Build communities, not walls

Gates, bars, armed security and homeowner restrictions are all ugly traits of private housing developed within the US context of desperate inequality and racism. The UK has a long and vibrant tradition of community development, creating a supportive built environment and social infrastructure of schools, libraries and other municipal services for residents.

Community assets. Image: Helen K/Flickr/creative commons.

This kind of development, and the social mobility and growing equality it fosters, safeguards public health and safety – not big walls, barbed wire and security guards. The private rented sector in the UK should be regulated to bring it more in line with Europe, where tenants prosper with security of tenure and strong regulation of rents and rent increases.

5. Raise your voice

Those who are bearing the brunt of our current housing crisis must be at the centre of efforts to change it. From tenants’ associations and renters’ unions, to campaign groups such as Justice for Grenfell, it’s vital to support those voices advocating fairer housing rights.

This also means rejecting austerity’s constant cuts to public services, funding social support for physical and mental health and ensuring that homes are safe, decent and secure, to create a safety net for those who are working to improve their communities.

The Conversation

Andrea Gibbons, Researcher in Sustainable Housing and Urban Studies, University of Salford.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.