An open letter to Eric Pickles

People are losing control of the public spaces they love. Give local councils a say over betting sho

People are losing control of the public spaces they love. Give local councils a say over betting shops.

Dear Mr Pickles,

I'm writing to invite you to Peckham. People here feel that their high streets are being inundated with betting shops. They feel that they are losing control of the public spaces they love. They look to me and my fellow councillors for leadership, but at present we don't have any meaningful powers to change things. You have the ability to grant us that authority, and we want to show you why.

High Streets First is a new campaign I've launched with the grassroots group Grasp asking you to give local councils a say over betting shops. We launched last week and broke 1,000 signatures in two days. Endorsements came in from MPs including Tom Watson, David Lammy and Harriet Harman. Conservative Councillor David Parsons and the LGA pledged their support for reform. Owen Jones and the blogs got on board. We received great press coverage, and more is on its way.

If you accept invitation an invitation to our borough, I'd start by giving you a tour. At present there are 77 betting shops in Southwark, and more are opening up as businesses close in the downturn. Local people are not against gambling, but they are against this kind of proliferation. On a map, it looks something like this:

map

Map: Harriet Harman MP. The Problem of Betting Shops. November 2011

I don't know how many betting shops there are in your Brentwood and Ongar constituency. I imagine less, because research from the Responsible Gambling Fund suggests they are clustering machines in areas that are poorest. In Southwark the average family income is £17k, and I pass eight bookies on the ten-minute walk to my council surgery.

Dirk Vennix, head of the Association of British Bookmakers, says that betting shops can bring life to empty high streets. I don't doubt that's true in some cases, but that's not happening here. People in Peckham say they are fuelling debt, addiction and anti-social behaviour. They say they are putting off other businesses by blighting the high street.

Some of the biggest concerns come from people who are in the betting industry themselves. This is what one manager from Camberwell, where there are five bookies within 200m, told me:

"In the area I'm in there aren't that many rich people coming in. People who are unemployed, people who are on benefits, and you get a lot of retired men coming in to pass the time. You get younger lot coming in thinking they're going to earn money. Seriously... we're quite close to the Maudsley (hospital for mental health) and we get people who are homeless wanting to double their money... some of the stores open at 7am and we get people coming in and spending their whole day going from one shop to the other, especially people with no money."

"...you have to deal with all sorts of personalities, and some can be very nasty. They do get violent as well. They kick the machines when they're losing. I've seen people pick up stalls and smash them over the machines. They're rude to me but it's just part of the job..."

"...I see people come in from the pawn shops and pay day loan shops, people who pawn their phone chasing their money (that's already been lost). You get to know the customers and they give you their life story and they take advantage. They say "borrow me £1 or £2 and I'll pay you back as soon as I've won". Sometimes they ask you just for a drink or something to eat. Some genuinely don't have the money for that at the end of the day."

This manager says he hates his job, but he does it to pay the bills and look after his daughter. His real dream is to be a youth worker, but there aren't that many opportunities available right now.

Local residents also have their concerns. Georgina Green, secretary of Consort Residents Association, is one of the hundreds who are leaving messages of support on our petition and via email:

Personally feel its morally wrong to encourage folk to gamble, yes to personal choice just not when every other shop screams lose your money to an already stressed out and depressed populous!

This isn't just an issue for Southwark. A number of local councils have tried to challenge unpopular new betting shops and failed. Recently a group of female councillors in Leeds lost a battle to stop a new Ladbrokes opening in the entrance to their historic Morley's market. More concerns have been raised in Northampton. Lewisham has also run into difficulties.

Your own independent review into high streets by Mary Portas recommended you grant local councils the power to decide how many betting shops they want on their streets. Doing this seems consistent with your proud and vocal commitment to localism, and it doesn't cost a penny. Local democracy should be a principle, not a gamble.

Please put High Streets First, and come to Peckham.

Yours,

Cllr Rowenna Davis

Rowenna Davis is a councillor, journalist and author of Tangled up in Blue: Blue Labour and the Struggle for Labour's Soul, published by Ruskin Publishing at £8.99. She is also a Labour councillor.

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

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The idea that sitting all day behind a desk increases your output is a fantasy

If you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them, seems to be the idea.

Scruffy and tieless, I was the odd one out. Taking a break from research in the London Library, I settled at the bar of an Italian restaurant and resumed reading Tony Collins’s excellent book Sport in Capitalist Society. While the hedge-fund managers looked askance, the young Hungarian waiter recognised one of his own. “That was the subject of my PhD,” he explained, before giving me a sparkling history of sport and Hungarian society.

He now juggles waiting tables with writing articles. It’s not easy. He tells me that when he rereads his old academic work, “Sometimes I need a dictionary!” Like many other people in today’s economy, he balances different jobs, the remuneration and fulfilment varying significantly.

As you have probably noticed, it seems that almost everyone is employed but hardly anyone has a job. Of the 42 million people of working age in Britain, 23 million are in a full-time job; roughly 14 million are full-time parents or carers; most of the rest work part-time, or are self-employed, or work for a business that is so small that it is, in effect, a form of self-employment. The “job” – the salary, the subsidised canteen, the pension – is on the wrong side of history. That is both liberating and scary.

There are two separate points here. The first, deriving from the privilege of choice, is that some people (I am one of them) are happier with the variety and freedom of self-employment. The second is that many people do not have a choice: solid, dependable jobs are a dead concept. We had better get used to fending for ourselves, because we are going to have to.

The phrase “portfolio career” was popularised by the management thinker Charles Handy. “I told my children that they would be well advised to look for customers, not bosses,” as Handy put it. “The important difference is that the price tag now goes on people’s produce, not their time.”

This transition from time-serving to genuine contribution can be good news for workers and employers alike. The art of being an employee is to string things out while pretending to be busy. The art of being self-employed is the opposite: getting things done well and efficiently, while being open to taking on new work. Employees gain an incentive to look effortful, the self-employed to look effortless.

The idea that sitting constantly behind a desk increases output, which underpins the old concept of a job, is a fantasy derived from control: if you don’t trust people, at least make sure that you imprison them. As an unfortunate consequence, the projection of phoney “busyness” consumes more energy than actual work and brings a kind of compound stress: always bustling around, never moving forward. “Never walk past the editor’s office without carrying a piece of paper,” young journalists are advised.

When I turned pro as a cricketer, an old hand told me that if I ever felt lost at practice, I should untie my shoelaces and then do them up again. “We don’t measure success by results but by activity,” as Sir Humphrey quips in Yes Minister. Ironically, I had never realised that my career as a sportsman – apparently playful and unserious – would prove to be the outlier for opposite reasons. Where most careers have drifted towards freelance portfolios, professional sport has tightened the leash. When you have to eat, sleep and train according to strict rules, your job is at one extreme end of the control-of-freedom spectrum. Yet even in elite sport there is more room for semi-professionalism than the system usually allows, especially in games – such as cricket – where physical fitness is necessary but not sufficient.

Yet the reality of the portfolio career inevitably brings new problems that are bound up with wider forces. A life that is spent moving from one institution to another – from school, to university, to a lifelong job – is becoming exotic, rather than the norm. For most of us, there will be no retirement party, no carriage clock. It is not just finding income that is being devolved downwards; so, too, is the search for meaning, purpose and identity. We live in what Handy calls a “de-institutionalised society”.

There are civilising aspects to the trend. First, the new employment landscape reduces the likelihood of people wasting their lives in the wrong job just because it is safe. Handy cites data suggesting that 80 per cent of employees feel dissatisfied in corporate jobs while 80 per cent are happy leading freelance lives. Nor does the old lie – that of backloading happiness, with corporate sacrifice giving way to happy retirement – stack up. We are better off balancing duties and pleasures all the way through.

Second, the decline of the job-for-life may gradually undermine the assumption that everyone’s wealth and prospects (let alone their value) can be determined by a couple of questions about an employer’s address. Social assumptions based on (apparent) occupation are increasingly ridiculous. Guess who the scholar is in the Italian restaurant: the waiter. It’s a good lesson. Your Uber driver could be a landscape architect, funding his professional passion with part-time top-ups.

The language of employment (“Where do you work?”) has been slow to catch up with this reality. When asked, “What do you do?” a freelancer can give a full and interesting answer, only to prompt the follow-up question, “So, what do you do, then?” If conversation becomes less like a mortgage questionnaire, that can only be a good thing.

Hugo Rifkind, writing recently in the Times, admired the Scandinavian-inspired decoupling of taste from wealth. “It is a ­better world . . . where you are not judged on the lineage of your sideboard.” I am more radical. It is a better world when you are not judged on your job.

Better or not – and like it or not – we will have to get used to it. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war