Whose library is it anyway?

After being closed by the Conservative council and then run by Occupy London, Friern Barnet Library is now in the hands of residents. But does this development represent a Pyrrhic victory over the cuts?

On 5 February 2013, activists from Occupy London handed over the keys to Friern Barnet Library to an official from Barnet Council who promptly passed the keys onto the trustees of local residents’ group Friern Barnet Community Library. Ten months on from its closure by the Conservative council and five months on from Occupy London moving in to re-open it as a community facility, this represents a pragmatic victory for Friern Barnet residents.

Public library closures are arguably the hallmark of the Coalition’s austerity programme – at the end of 2012 the Chartered Institute of Public Finance and Accountancy reported that around 350 libraries (out of just over 4,000 nationwide) had closed in the last two years. Some say that by accepting a lease Friern Barnet Community Library has effectively acknowledged Barnet Council’s case for closure and staff cuts. The Chartered Institute of Library and Information Professionals (CILIP) report A Changing Landscape: A Survey of Public Library Authorities in England, Wales, Northern Ireland 2012-13 showed that local authorities were reducing staff and cutting opening hours. They also noted an increase in community managed libraries, which are set to top 120 nationwide, of which Friern Barnet will be one. The Library Campaign by contrast promotes the “improvement of libraries through the activities of friends and user groups” and seeks to “affirm that publicly funded libraries and information services continue to play a key role in lifelong learning”. Have residents won a Pyrrhic victory?

In Friern Barnet, a north London suburb, the library had stood since 1934. A purpose built red brick and limestone structure this building incorporated windows and ventilation blocks specifically designed for its use as a library. As with so many historic libraries up and down the country it is regarded as a beautiful part of the local townscape. This was threatened by Barnet Council’s plans to close the building and sell the site for redevelopment. Despite a vociferous local campaign it was closed in April 2012, leaving a forlorn back-drop to Diamond Jubilee celebrations and the Olympic Torch relay in the summer. Residents in the Save Friern Barnet Library group continued their campaign, including holding weekend pop-up libraries on the green outside. New impetus was added to their cause when activists from Occupy London moved-in in September 2012.

Despite the shameful number of empty homes in Britain residential squatting was criminalised in September 2012. It was therefore to the disdain of Barnet Conservatives that activists moved into the empty Friern Barnet Library a few days later (and also ironic as local Tory MP Mike Freer had campaigned against squatters after some had occupied Saif al-Islam Gaddafi’s mansion in his constituency). The activists quickly gained the support of residents, re-opening the building as Friern Barnet People’s Library. Maureen Ivens, Chairwoman of the Save Friern Barnet Library group, said of all the different groups that had come together "We are here as one".

The campaign was re-invigorated, gaining national and international coverage. The library was arguably better than before. The hours were extended to six-days a week 11am till 7pm. Thousands of books donated by local residents filled the shelves. Regular events such as kids’ parties, live music, yoga and a talk by New Statesman columnist Will Self were put on, creating a genuine community space. However, Barnet Council would not let this continue and brought legal action for repossession.

The case came to court in December 2012, originally adjourned from October – a clear sign that the judge felt the two parties should reach a negotiated settlement. Technically the Council, as owners of the building, were in the right and were granted repossession. But the judge gave a clear direction that the Council should not send in the bailiffs immediately but should negotiate over the establishment of an officially sanctioned community library.

Hemmed in by the judicial decision, the almost contemporaneous listing of the library as a community asset under the Localism Act and the press coverage Barnet Council did indeed negotiate. A number of local residents hurriedly became trustees of the newly formed Friern Barnet Community Library, the group that is to take on a two-year lease from Barnet Council. The library will remain, a volunteer run service with limited public funding.

A local service and a beautiful building are (at least for the time being) saved. Residents and Occupy London stated that the People’s Library was only ever an emergency service organised as a protest; the volunteer service a stop-gap. Both wanted the library to be a publicly-funded professionally-run service. One of the occupiers, housing and squatting activist, Phoenix, stated: “We have collectively helped to save this library from the bulldozer and being sold off for development … we want to make it clear that putting in place a paid librarian is a priority. I believe consensus has been reached with the community on this point. As it stands, the funding offered by the council does not cover a full time librarian, but as the two year lease is negotiated and plans go forward, this will be kept at the front of the conversation.”

The previous public library, however, had limited hours and as its story shows was vulnerable to the Council’s machinations. The new service is to a large extent much better and has brought the community together. Sarah Sackman, the barrister who represented residents and the occupiers at the court case said about the campaign and re-opening “community is more than the market value of a building”.

Is this a victory for Tory cuts and the big society? Is the current situation a rebuff to the Conservatives – communitarianism in action? In this library, in society, in politics in general there is no final winner – only the latest settlement. Who knows how residents will step up to the plate to run the library or how councils will provide services in future. The Save Friern Barnet Library group have stated that they continue to call for the library “to be fully re-incorporated into Barnet’s library network”. Opposition Labour councillor Barry Rawlings said, at the re-opening, “this is the end of a chapter but not the end of the book”.

 

Friern Barnet Library. Photograph: James Dawson
Getty
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In defence of orientalism, the case against Twenty20, and why Ken should watch Son of Saul

My week, from Age Concern to anti-semitism.

Returning late from a party I never much wanted to go to, I leap up and down in the middle of the Harrow Road in the hope of flagging down a taxi, but the drivers don’t notice me. Either they’re haring down the fast lane or they’re too preoccupied cursing Uber to one another on their mobile phones. My father drove a black cab, so I have a deep loyalty to them. But there’s nothing like being left stranded in NW10 in the dead of night to make one reconsider one’s options. I just wish Uber wasn’t called Uber.

Just not cricket

Tired and irritable, I spend the next day watching sport on television – snooker, darts, cricket, anything I can find. But I won’t be following the Indian Premier League’s Twenty20 cricket again. It’s greedy, cynical, over-sponsored and naff. Whenever somebody hits a boundary, cheerleaders in cast-off gym kit previously worn by fourth-form Roedean girls wave tinsel mops.

Matches go to the final over where they’re decided in a thrashathon of sixes hit by mercenaries wielding bats as wide as shovels. Why, in that case, don’t both teams just play a final over each and dispense with the previous 19? I can’t wait for the elegant ennui of a five-day Test match.

Stop! Culture police!

I go to the Delacroix exhibition at the National Gallery to shake off the sensation of all-consuming kitsch. Immediately I realise I have always confused Delacroix with someone else but I can’t decide who. Maybe Jacques-Louis David. The show convincingly argues that Delacroix influenced every artist who came after him except Jeff Koons, who in that case must have been influenced by David. It’s turbulent, moody work, some of the best of it, again to my surprise, being religious painting with the religion taken out. Christ’s followers lamenting his death don’t appear to be expecting miracles. This is a man they loved, cruelly executed. The colours are the colours of insupportable grief.

I love the show but wish the curators hadn’t felt they must apologise for Delacroix finding the North Africans he painted “exotic”. Cultural studies jargon screams from the wall. You can hear the lecturer inveighing against the “appropriating colonial gaze” – John Berger and Edward Said taking all the fun out of marvelling at what’s foreign and desirable. I find myself wondering where they’d stand on the Roedean cheer-leaders of Mumbai.

Taking leave of the senses

My wife drags me to a play at Age Concern’s headquarters in Bloomsbury. When I see where she’s taking me I wonder if she plans to leave me there. The play is called Don’t Leave Me Now and is written by Brian Daniels. It is, to keep it simple, about the effects of dementia on the families and lovers of sufferers. I am not, in all honesty, expecting a good time. It is a reading only, the actors sitting in a long line like a board of examiners, and the audience hunched forward in the attitude of the professionally caring.  My wife is a therapist so this is her world.

Here, unlike in my study, an educated empathy prevails and no one is furious. I fear that art is going to get lost in good intention. But the play turns out to be subtly powerful, sympathetic and sharp, sad and funny; and hearing it read engages me as seeing it performed might not have done. Spared the spectacle of actors throwing their bodies around and singing about their dreams against a backdrop painted by a lesser, Les Mis version of Delacroix, you can concentrate on the words. And where dementia is the villain, words are priceless.

Mixing with the proles

In Bloomsbury again the next day for a bank holiday design and craft fair at Mary Ward House. I have a soft spot for craft fairs, having helped run a craft shop once, and I feel a kinship with the designers sitting bored behind their stalls, answering inane questions about kilns and receiving empty compliments. But it’s the venue that steals the show, a lovely Arts and Crafts house, founded in the 1890s by the novelist Mary Ward with the intention of enabling the wealthy and educated to live among the poor and introduce them to the consolations of beauty and knowledge. We’d call that patronising. We’re wrong. It’s a high ideal, to ease the burden of poverty and ignorance and, in Ward’s words, save us from “the darker, coarser temptations of our human road”.

An Oscar-winning argument for Zionism

Speaking of which, I am unable to empty my mind of Ken Livingstone and his apologists as I sit in the cinema and watch the just-released Academy Award-winning Son of Saul, a devastating film about one prisoner’s attempt to hold on to a vestige of humanity in a Nazi death camp. If you think you know of hell from Dante or Michelangelo, think again. The inferno bodied forth in Son of Saul is no theological apportioning of justice or deserts. It is the evisceration of meaning, the negation of every grand illusion about itself mankind has ever harboured. There has been a fashion, lately, to invoke Gaza as proof that the Holocaust is a lesson that Jews failed to learn – as though one cruelty drives out another, as though suffering is forfeit, and as though we, the observers, must choose between horrors.

I defy even Livingstone to watch this film, in which the Jews, once gassed, become “pieces” – Stücke – and not grasp the overwhelming case for a Jewish place of refuge. Zionism pre-dated the camps, and its fulfilment, if we can call it that, came too late for those millions reduced to the grey powder mountains the Sonderkommandos were tasked with sweeping away. It diminishes one’s sympathy for the Palestinian cause not a jot to recognise the arguments, in a world of dehumanising hate, for Zionism. Indeed, not to recognise those arguments is to embrace the moral insentience whose murderous consequence Son of Saul confronts with numbed horror. 

This article first appeared in the 06 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The longest hatred