Sharp tactics: the spikes on the ground outside a London block of flats which sparked outrage. Photo: Getty
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Laurie Penny on rough sleeping: A war on homelessness should mean shelter, not metal spikes

Rough sleeping has almost doubled in London in the past few years and private businesses are making it tough for the new homeless to put down their blankets.

"Social housing, not social cleansing." Not long ago, on the hottest day of the year, I saw these words scrawled on a bedsheet in the boiling sun, draped on the gate of an empty east London council home whose tenants had been evicted to make way for “redevelopment”.

There was a time when such a statement would have been considered hyperbolic, but on the Carpenters Estate in Stratford, with its boarded-up windows and vacant lots tucked away behind the glittering Westfield shopping centre, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched. Rents are soaring and London is becoming a city for the rich, with the poor driven out of their communities, away from their families, jobs and schools.

Stratford is only a few miles from Westminster but for the housing minister Kris Hopkins it must seem like a different world – one in which alien people live, scroungers who listen to Pharrell and don’t vote Tory. “I bought a house,” he said in April, defending the soaring price of property across the UK on Newsnight, “and I expect the value to rise”. Hopkins is making money in the new housing bubble. Lucky him. Unfortunately, for the millions of people across the country who are watching their incomes devoured by punishing rent rises, reassurances that the rich are getting richer will be no comfort.

The housing minister is doubly fortunate because, as an MP, he is among the few who can afford to rent in London. It has emerged that some 300 MPs are claiming expenses to rent a second home here and those housing benefits are the only ones not being cut.

Many of the MPs claiming them are the same Tories who voted for the bedroom tax. Last year, Hopkins claimed £18,045 in rent payments for his second home. The employment minister Esther McVey, another supporter of the bedroom tax, claimed £17,227 – presumably for an enormous glass house from which to throw stones.

Can politicians such as these conceive what it means to lack a safe place to live? To be forced to move every six months, preventing your kids from ever settling in at school? To breathe in mouldy air and share a bathroom with ten strangers where the leaky shower always runs cold? We must assume that they can’t imagine it, because the alternative is that they just don’t care.

The scale of the housing crisis in Britain and particularly in London is difficult to overstate. It’s not just a matter of building more homes. There is plenty of housing stock to go around but it is unevenly dis­tributed. Thousands of properties stand empty, accumulating value for the global super-rich, while ordinary workers are increasingly unable to afford to live in cities and 7 per cent of homes in the capital are overcrowded.

Rent controls are the obvious solution but the Conservative Party will go to the wall before it does anything at all to help those who do not own property. So the government’s stopgap has been the Help to Buy scheme – underwriting first-time mortgages with state aid, a policy that may have lit the long fuse of a second financial collapse. The IMF has stepped in to warn the Chancellor that this new housing bubble must be addressed but no emergency measures have been taken. No rent controls. No social construction projects.

Around the capital, where house prices have risen 18.2 per cent this year, metal spikes are appearing on park benches and street corners. Rough sleeping has almost doubled in London in the past few years and private businesses are making it tough for the new homeless to put down their blankets.

Many of us can no longer afford to rent in London – not even if we work full-time. This includes the nurses, teachers and transport workers who make the capital what it is, as well as the artists and students who keep it trendy. As many as 26 per cent of Londoners claimed housing benefit in 2012 and most of those were working. Instead of capping out-of-control rents, the government has chosen to cut housing benefit and artificially inflate the property market. What this means is quite simple. Landlords are doing everything they can to evict tenants to make way for those who can afford average rents of £1,500 per month and rising. Pretty soon, that’s going to be the housing minister and nobody else.

All of this has happened before. In 1832, fearful of the social unrest that was sweeping Europe, the Whigs decided to extend the voting franchise to middle-class men who owned property. For almost a century, you were only allowed to participate in democracy if you had the title to land, buildings or both. Fast-forward 200 years and, yet again, it’s property owners who matter most in our nominal democracy. The Conservative Party has it in for renters. People who rent tend not to vote Tory – so why should they get somewhere safe to live?

When the Tories speak of a “property-owning democracy”, they mean it quite literally. This is becoming a country in which only those who own property matter to the state. That’s what social cleansing looks like and the closer you examine it, the dirtier it looks. By the time this new housing bubble bursts, it will be too late. The British housing crisis is a social, cultural and financial disaster. If action isn’t taken to turn it around, all of us will pay. 

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

This article first appeared in the 11 June 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The last World Cup

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Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

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