A general view of housing in Brixton on January 30, 2013. Photograph: Getty Images.
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We need rent controls to solve London's housing crisis

Too many essential workers are being priced out of the capital. Rent controls could address the uncertainty and unaffordability they face.

In an unusual break from the disagreement, dissent and bickering that pervades politics, consensus has broken out amongst policy makers in the capital: London is in the midst of a housing crisis.

The facts are stark. Private rents in London have risen nine per cent since December 2011. Property price growth has returned to pre-2008 levels and is on the brink of exceeding it.Higher rents make it difficult to save a deposit, and rapid house price growth pushes the size of that deposit further and further out of reach. Indeed, those two factors combined mean that the projected average age by which a young person will be able to buy their first home in London is now 52. Sixty six per cent of first home buyers are supported by the bank of Mum and Dad in order to afford a deposit.

London has reached the point where the cost of housing is affecting productivity growth. We are on the cusp of having to bus in cleaners, retails workers and hospitality staff from the Shires because those on low incomes cannot afford London rents. Londoners on average already spend more than half of their income on paying their rent or mortgage. Not only does that disincentivise the best and brightest teachers and nurses from living in London, it also significantly reduces the disposable income of those with the highest propensity to spend, threatening the future of the retail sector in particular and the economic recovery in general.

London clearly needs to build more homes. A report by London Councils found we have 283,000 too few homes in London now, and we will need a further 526,000 by 2021 to cope with a growing population. But building hundreds of thousands of homes will not happen in the very short- term; meanwhile, Londoners are struggling to pay their rent.  With the monthly rent for a one-bedroom flat in Wandsworth sitting well above £1,100, it has become patently obvious that London needs some form of rent control.

But let me be clear about what I mean when I talk about rent control. I don’t mean the old-school "first generation" rent control that was introduced in the UK during the Great War, which prevents any increase in rents, diminishes investment returns in real-terms over time, and discourages people from becoming landlords. I don’t mean the type of rent control that keeps rents so low that they are not enough to pay for the proper maintenance of a home in a liveable condition. I mean rent controls that nod to the market but allow for the realities of what it is to have a home to live in; the type that are espoused by those who could hardly be called left-wing ideologues, including Angela Merkel and Michael Bloomberg.

Currently in London, a family can move into a home at an expensive but affordable rent. The landlord cannot evict them (except for non-payment of rent) for six months. But after a year that landlord can raise the rent as high as he or she would like to; the rent could be doubled without any notice to the tenant family, putting it completely out of the range of affordability. The family is obliged, then, to move house, move their childrens’ school, probably move to a different part of London, and pay another round of letting fees, bonds and two-months-rent-in-advance. The other option is to seek the landlord’s permission to sublet one of their bedrooms to another family, adding one more to the 207,000 London households already living in overcrowded conditions.

There is an alternative. Take, for example, the German system of rent controls. Renters have indefinite tenancies; a tenant can only be evicted for non payment of rent (over a number of months), damage to the property, unauthorised subletting, or to allow the landlord or a member of his or her family to live in the home or to sell the home. It is in the interests of a landlord to retain their current tenant because the costs of letting agents are borne by the landlord.  The initial rent is set by the market, but cannot be more than 20 per cent higher than similar properties in the area. Rents can be raised according to inflation or due to an increase in the landlord’s costs, but by no more than 20 per cent in any three-year period.  Further, proper maintenance of the property by the landlord is incentivised; a tenant only pays 100 per cent of the rent if the home is in 100 per cent good condition. Perhaps a system like Germany’s is exactly what London needs to address the uncertainty and unaffordability faced by tenants in our private rented sector.

A common criticism of rent controls is that they discourage investment in the private rented sector. But British history since the deregulation of the rental market in the late 80s has shown that argument to be flawed; 89 per cent of landlords are individuals or couples, not builders or developers. In general, they buy pre-existing properties as an investment or nest egg.  They aren’t the part of the housing market that builds new homes in London, though they do compete against first homebuyers for existing properties. The fact that more rental accommodation has not been built in London, with its high rent prices, shows the inelasticity of housing supply in London which has more to do with cautious developers, the planning process, and a scarcity of developable land than it does with rent prices.  

To encourage investment in new homes (rather than locking up investment equity in pre-existing houses), there could be concessions to rent controls on new developments. Maybe rent controls should not apply to any new property built after 1 January 2014. Or maybe they should not apply to the first tenant of any new development; that will have the added benefit of encouraging longer term leases by property developers.

We need to start getting serious about how to address the housing crisis in London, because it’s not just those on minimum wage or housing benefit that are struggling to afford to live here. Teachers, civil servants, retailers and service workers essential to the running of our city are all threatened by the crisis. Though not a silver bullet that will singlehandedly solve the crisis, we should think about how rent controls – done sensibly – can be part of a comprehensive plan to ensure that all Londoners can afford a home in our city.

David Lammy is Labour MP for Tottenham

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Why is it called Storm Doris? The psychological impact of naming a storm

“Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person.”

“Oh, piss off Doris,” cried the nation in unison this morning. No, it wasn't that everyone's local cantankerous old lady had thwacked our ankles with her stick. This is a different, more aggressive Doris. Less Werther’s, more extreme weathers. Less bridge club, more bridge collapse.

This is Storm Doris.

A storm that has brought snow, rain, and furious winds up to 94mph to parts of the UK. There are severe weather warnings of wind, snow and ice across the entire country.

But the real question here is: why is it called that? And what impact does the new Met Office policy of naming storms have on us?

Why do we name storms?

Storm Doris is the latest protagonist in the Met Office’s decision to name storms, a pilot scheme introduced in winter 2015/16 now in its second year.

The scheme was introduced to draw attention to severe weather conditions in Britain, and raise awareness of how to prepare for them.

How do we name storms?

The Name our Storms initiative invites the public to suggest names for storms. You can do this by tweeting the @metoffice using the #nameourstorms hashtag and your suggestion, through its Facebook page, or by emailing them.

These names are collated along with suggestions from Met Éireann and compiled into a list. These are whittled down into 21 names, according to which were most suggested – in alphabetical order and alternating between male and female names. This is done according to the US National Hurricane Naming convention, which excludes the letters Q, U, X, Y and Z because there are thought to be too few common names beginning with these letters.

They have to be human names, which is why suggestions in this list revealed by Wired – including Apocalypse, Gnasher, Megatron, In A Teacup (or Ena Tee Cup) – were rejected. The Met Office received 10,000 submissions for the 2016/17 season. According to a spokesperson, a lot of people submit their own names.

Only storms that could have a “medium” or “high” wind impact in the UK and Ireland are named. If there are more than 21 storms in a year, then the naming system starts from Alpha and goes through the Greek alphabet.

The names for this year are: Angus (19-20 Nov ’16), Barbara (23-24 Dec 2016), Conor (25-26 Dec 2016), Doris (now), Ewan, Fleur, Gabriel, Holly, Ivor, Jacqui, Kamil, Louise, Malcolm, Natalie, Oisín, Penelope, Robert, Susan, Thomas, Valerie and Wilbert.

Why does this violent storm have the name of an elderly lady?

Doris is an incongruous name for this storm, so why was it chosen? A Met Office spokesperson says they were just at that stage in their list of names, and there’s no link between the nature of the storm and its name.

But do people send cosy names for violent weather conditions on purpose? “There’s all sorts in there,” a spokesperson tells me. “People don’t try and use cosy names as such.”

What psychological impact does naming storms have on us?

We know that giving names to objects and animals immediately gives us a human connection with them. That’s why we name things we feel close to: a pet owner names their cat, a sailor names their boat, a bore names their car. We even name our virtual assistants –from Microsoft’s Clippy to Amazon’s Alexa.

This gives us a connection beyond practicality with the thing we’ve named.

Remember the response of Walter Palmer, the guy who killed Cecil the Lion? “If I had known this lion had a name and was important to the country or a study, obviously I wouldn’t have taken it,” he said. “Nobody in our hunting party knew before or after the name of this lion.”

So how does giving a storm a name change our attitude towards it?

Evidence suggests that we take it more seriously – or at least pay closer attention. A YouGov survey following the first seven named storms in the Met Office’s scheme shows that 55 per cent of the people polled took measures to prepare for wild weather after hearing that the oncoming storm had been named.

“There was an immediate acceptance of the storm names through all media,” said Gerald Fleming, Head of Forecasting at Met Éireann, the Irish metereological service. “The severe weather messages were more clearly communicated.”

But personalising a storm can backfire. A controversial US study in 2014 by PNAC (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences) claimed that hurricanes with female names lead to higher death tolls – the more “feminine” the name, like Belle or Cindy, the higher the death toll. This is not because female names are attached to more severe storms; it is reportedly because people take fewer steps to prepare for storms with names they perceive to be unintimidating or weak.

“In judging the intensity of a storm, people appear to be applying their beliefs about how men and women behave,” Sharon Shavitt, a co-author of the study, told the FT at the time. “This makes a female-named hurricane . . . seem gentler and less violent.”

Names have social connotations, and affect our subconscious. Naming a storm can raise awareness of it, but it can also affect our behaviour towards it.

What’s it like sharing a name with a deadly storm?

We should also spare a thought for the impact sharing a name with a notorious weather event can have on a person. Katrina Nicholson, a nurse who lives in Glasgow, says it was “horrible” when the 2005 hurricane – one of the fifth deadliest ever in the US – was given her name.

“It was horrible having something so destructive associated with my name. Homes being destroyed and lives being lost shouldn’t be named after any person,” she tells me over email. “I actually remember at the time meeting an American tourist on a boat trip in Skye and when he heard my name he immediately linked it to the storm – although he quickly felt guilty and then said it was a lovely name! I think to this day there will be many Americans who hate my name because of it.”

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.