The coalition’s confusion over planning

The government clearly can’t decide between localism and economic growth.

One of the many timeless phrases that the current Baron Prescott of Kingston-upon-Hull gave to the nation – and to his opponents in the Tory press – was his 1999 musing on preventing inappropriate housing development. "The greenbelt is a Labour achievement," he said. "And we intend to build on it."

Scoffing aside, actually Prescott had a point.

He wanted to build homes and, as much as was practical, he wanted the building to be in existing urban areas. His idea was simple: to direct the development that the country needed to derelict land that has already been used.

In 2000 Prescott ruled that 60 per cent of all new homes had to be built on previously used land. He added a raft of guidance making it harder for councils to approve greenfield planning applications if there were empty so-called "brownfield" sites available.

The target was exceeded: 80 per cent of new homes were built on brownfield, saving thousands of acres of green fields from the bulldozer.

In deprived areas the rules ensured that developers concentrated on regeneration, not on suburban luxury homes, which contributed to the hollowing out of town centres. Of course, it was far from perfect, but the principle was helpful.

"Enemies of enterprise"

In Wednesday's Budget, George Osborne abolished this target. Councils are now to be free to decide whether regeneration is important to them.

But this doesn't just put Prescott's legacy at risk by sending a signal to developers that the government doesn't mind if they build unsustainable, out-of-town developments. It also goes to heart of the coalition's confusion over planning.

The reality is that the number of planning applications has fallen every single quarter since "localist" planning reforms were instituted by the Communities Secretary, Eric Pickles, in May last year. Applications are 22 per cent down from a year ago.

In addition, council plans for 217,000 homes have been scrapped. Meanwhile, the Treasury witnessed a 0.6 per cent fall in construction GDP at the end of last year when things were supposed to be improving. Growth is being jeopardised.

David Cameron identified planners as "enemies of enterprise" but others have pointed the finger at Pickles. For Osborne, something had to be done.

Fundamentally the government is struggling to decide between localism and economic growth – between giving power to the blue-blooded nimby Tories of the shires, or to the red-blooded capitalist Tories of the city. The latter say deregulate to allow out-of-town superstores, edge-of-town housing estates and new motorways; the former say no to all of these.

So Osborne will have been pleased to read the plaudits from the CBI, hailing his achievement in tackling the "chronic obstacle" of the planning system.

But those businesses hailing it should read the fine print. His announcement on brownfield (just one small but important part of the package) was actually localism dressed up as deregulation. In fact, the move, giving powers to every council to set its own targets, could be exactly what developers don't want, replacing one rule with 400.

It means leafy shire districts opposed to development will be able to set higher targets to block development from going ahead. This development is essential if the next generation is to be able to buy homes in these leafy surburbs.

Give us a grin, Prezza

Meanwhile, the other planning measures in the Budget are either so unclear as to be uninterpretable, or are reannouncements of existing policies. No wonder the Office for Budget Responsibility had to admit it was unable to identify anything in the package which caused it to improve its growth forecasts.

Ultimately, the Budget simply underscores this contradiction between localism and growth – there is no attempt to solve it. The localist reforms to the planning system, viewed largely with hostility by those expected to build new homes, go on.

No doubt Prescott will have a wry smile.

Joey Gardiner is assistant editor of Building magazine.

Joey Gardiner is assistant editor at Building magazine

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism