Parties need a strategic housing policy that accounts for renters. Photo: Getty
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As more people rent, politicians can't rely on the same old home-owning swing voters

Parties will have to shift focus as, by the next census in 2021, roughly 104 parliamentary seats will have a majority of households that are renting.

The First Past The Post electoral system leads to some pretty stagnant thinking when it comes to the main political parties. They’re basically all chasing the votes of the same home-owning swing voters in the provinces with a garnish of xenophobia on the side to win back the Ukip waverers. But the electoral calculus is changing and we’re starting to see politicians respond to this.

Recently we crunched the numbers from the past two census returns, remapping the data against the current parliamentary boundaries. And we found that by the next census in 2021, roughly 104 parliamentary seats will have a majority of households that are renting. Unsurprisingly, 49 seats, almost half the total, were in London, with most of the rest in other urban areas.

This leaves the parties with a conundrum; can you be a party that is for provincial baby boomers and the urban young at the same time? And with the London election only one year after the general election, this isn't an abstract question.

The mayoralty can only be won by Labour, the Conservatives or an insurgent independent candidate - maybe a Green. The Conservatives are facing a problem in the form of a rapid decrease in the number of homeowners compared to renters, however, with a colourful candidate and a low Labour turnout, they can still win.

Labour on the other hand has a bigger problem. Its lack of a coherent housing policy lets down the 35% of Londoners who, according to Ipsos Mori, say that housing is their number one issue of concern. A failure to address this is precisely what will give the Conservatives the low Labour turnout that they need.


Most of Labour's putative mayoral candidates have clearly recognised that they have no chance of winning if they toe the party line and Hackney MP Diane Abbott has gone further than the rest with her publication this week (with us) of her proposal for a modern take on rent controls.

This plan sets a low cap, related to council tax bands, but allows landlords to breach that cap on the condition that they pay 50% of the excess into a social housebuilding investment fund controlled by the Mayor.

The graceful effect of this is that landlords either charge low rents, or they fund housing supply, which will bring rents down, creating a long term market convergence towards the capped price. The more they charge, the more they fund truly affordable housing.

We're happy to work with any mayoral hopeful (OK, not the BNP) to come up with great housing policies. But Labour will scupper the chances of its own candidate if they fail - potentially in government - to win credibility with London's renters.

Failing to address the London housing crisis or to empower a candidate to do so will leave Londoners hungry for a better option. This is just the sort of fertile ground in which someone like Russell Brand, or the Green Party could seed a strong mayoral candidacy.

Electoral failure for Labour doesn't depend on an insurgent candidate winning. Labour will know it has lost its London heartlands if it comes third, even if that insurgent candidate only comes second. This would highlight, ward by ward in fact, those areas of London that are willing to vote for what they really want rather than just voting Labour to keep out the Conservatives.

In a fragmenting political landscape Labour still clings desperately to its "least bad potential government" electoral strategy, which has already allowed the SNP, Ukip and the Greens to eat away at their support. With a strategic housing policy that actually addresses the crisis people face, Labour could start to win back enthusiastic supporters. And if they (or the other parties) would like such a policy platform, we're happy to help them develop it.

Alex Hilton is director of Generation Rent. See its rent control campaign here and read its publication on rent control here.

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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.