Photo: Author's own.
Show Hide image

At the Sweets Way show home, activists are standing up to developers using hammers and paintbrushes

Campaigners are renovating a condemned home in a Barnet estate to show that regeneration doesn't have to mean demolition. 

The Sweets Way estate is an eerie place to visit. In the surrounding suburbs of Totteridge and Whetstone, families wander along the streets and washing flutters in back gardens, but in the cluster of streets that make up the estate, all is quiet. The windows and doors of the 140-odd houses are fitted with brown metal muzzles, occasionally brightened with bits of graffiti. Overflowing bins sit in empty lots. In fact, the only signs of life are the cars that line every street: the area’s office workers have been quick to capitalise on the disappearance of Sweets Way’s residents.

But at the heart of the ghost town, at number 153, is one house with all its windows intact and a freshly planted garden. Here, a group of ex-residents and activists are sawing, painting and cabinet-making in order to turn the house back into a home. 

Houses on the estate. Many have bits of graffiti on windows and doors, left by ex-residents during protests and occupations.

The story of Sweets Way’s evictions is well-worn: it mirrors the narrative of estates across London. Since 2006, the estate was occupied by private tenants and members of the Notting Hill Housing Trust. But the long-term plan since owners Annington Homes ended their contract with the Ministry of Defence (pre-2006, service personnel lived there) has always been redevelopment.

Annington Homes plans to build 288 residences on the site, starting later this year. Ex-residents of Sweets Way call these “luxury apartments”; Annington describes them as “new, better designed homes”, which would increase the current number of dwellings by 100 per cent. The reality, as always, is somewhere in the middle: the new homes would certainly be more densely built, but only around 60 of them would be classed as “affordable”, while none would be available to social tenants. Meanwhile, Barnet council defines “affordable” as “up to 80 per cent of market rents”, which, for most, is anything but. 

Overall, it’s unlikely many, or any, of Sweets Ways’ ex-tenants would be able to afford live there again. Since planning permission was approved in November last year, families have resisted the plans through occupations and protests. Now, though, all but one of the families have been successfully evicted (the final family has been issued with a possession order). 

The Sweets Way “show home”, meanwhile, has been occupied so campaigners can show the council and the public what’s possible with a few days, a few volunteers, and a couple of hundred pounds donated by activist groups. On Tuesday, campaigner Liam showed me round as volunteers arrive and get down to sanding and painting. “None of us have much experience with this stuff,” he tells me – though the group has had some help from a local plumber, glazier, and cabinetmaker – as he proudly points out a section of kitchen floor made from reclaimed pieces of slate. 

Flooring in the kitchen. The slate came from a derelict factory nearby.

To make things even harder, the campaigners say Annington Homes destroyed facilities in homes across the estate after the evictions to make them unliveable, and make life for occupiers more difficult. This included ripping out waste water pipes, smashing porcelain and pulling out kitchen cabinets. In some homes, there were even holes gouged in the roof. (I approached Annington Homes about this, but they declined to comment on the destruction specifically.) So the renovators weren’t even starting from scratch – before they could set about repairs, they had to clear the house of the damage done to it by the developers. 

Campaigners say that the estate's owners smashed up the houses' interiors to make them unlivable and prevent more occupations. This is the bathroom in the "anti-show home" next door.

No one I spoke to remembers who first had the idea for the show home, and the home next door, which has been left in its smashed-up state to show what the campaigners have achieved in the show home. But at the heart of the operation is Polish-born Anna, who was laying floorboards made of old pallets on the landing when I looked around. She lived on the estate before she was evicted into temporary accommodation with her children.  

For her, the show home represents a kind of third way for regeneration: “If councils gave residents a few thousand pounds, and access to local contractors, they would fix up homes for the sake of keeping their community. They just need to give us a chance.” Meanwhile, her children play downstairs in a police hat and butterfly wings. “They love Sweets Way, they’re so pleased to be back,” she says.

They’re not the only ones: while Anna is no doubt exhausted, and discouraged from the standoff with Barnet Homes, the council, and the estate’s owners (she tried to explain the renovation idea to the head of Barnet council, who “did not get on board”) she seems invigorated by the restoration project. “It will be very rustic when it’s finished,” she says, showing me the floorboards in the second bedroom. “I have such a beautiful sink for this room – would you like to see it? I’m so excited about it!” She leads me downstairs and we admire the wooden structure together. 

 

"The yellow wall has been controversial. In fact, the biggest arguments on this campaign so far have been over paint colours" - Liam.

So how will she feel if and when the show home, along with the rest of Sweets Way, is demolished? “It’ll be really sad, especially after all the work we’ve put into this house. But maybe we’ll inspire other people to do the same before it’s too late – or inspire councils to see that they don’t have to demolish estates to make them livable.” 

Figures obtained by the Independent show that between July and September 2014, Barnet arranged 306 homeless placements in accommodation outside the borough – it effectively gave up on housing its poorer residents. Anna’s temporary accommodation is currently within the borough, but her family could easily be moved to another borough, miles away from home. The uncaring exile of residents from their communities is at the heart of the anger at Sweets Way, and the attempts to salvage it using basic tools and pots and paint show both how little power residents have in the face of redevelopment, and how hard they’re willing to try. 

The show home's landing, with an inscription by Anna.

The show home is open to visitors today - head down if you can to 153 Sweets Way N20 9EU.

All photos: Author's own. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.

Getty
Show Hide image

Labour's establishment suspects a Momentum conspiracy - they're right

Bernie Sanders-style organisers are determined to rewire the party's machine.  

If you wanted to understand the basic dynamics of this year’s Labour leadership contest, Brighton and Hove District Labour Party is a good microcosm. On Saturday 9 July, a day before Angela Eagle was to announce her leadership bid, hundreds of members flooded into its AGM. Despite the room having a capacity of over 250, the meeting had to be held in three batches, with members forming an orderly queue. The result of the massive turnout was clear in political terms – pro-Corbyn candidates won every position on the local executive committee. 

Many in the room hailed the turnout and the result. But others claimed that some in the crowd had engaged in abuse and harassment.The national party decided that, rather than first investigate individuals, it would suspend Brighton and Hove. Add this to the national ban on local meetings and events during the leadership election, and it is easy to see why Labour seems to have an uneasy relationship with mass politics. To put it a less neutral way, the party machine is in a state of open warfare against Corbyn and his supporters.

Brighton and Hove illustrates how local activists have continued to organise – in an even more innovative and effective way than before. On Thursday 21 July, the week following the CLP’s suspension, the local Momentum group organised a mass meeting. More than 200 people showed up, with the mood defiant and pumped up.  Rather than listen to speeches, the room then became a road test for a new "campaign meetup", a more modestly titled version of the "barnstorms" used by the Bernie Sanders campaign. Activists broke up into small groups to discuss the strategy of the campaign and then even smaller groups to organise action on a very local level. By the end of the night, 20 phonebanking sessions had been planned at a branch level over the following week. 

In the past, organising inside the Labour Party was seen as a slightly cloak and dagger affair. When the Labour Party bureaucracy expelled leftwing activists in past decades, many on went further underground, organising in semi-secrecy. Now, Momentum is doing the exact opposite. 

The emphasis of the Corbyn campaign is on making its strategy, volunteer hubs and events listings as open and accessible as possible. Interactive maps will allow local activists to advertise hundreds of events, and then contact people in their area. When they gather to phonebank in they will be using a custom-built web app which will enable tens of thousands of callers to ring hundreds of thousands of numbers, from wherever they are.

As Momentum has learned to its cost, there is a trade-off between a campaign’s openness and its ability to stage manage events. But in the new politics of the Labour party, in which both the numbers of interested people and the capacity to connect with them directly are increasing exponentially, there is simply no contest. In order to win the next general election, Labour will have to master these tactics on a much bigger scale. The leadership election is the road test. 

Even many moderates seem to accept that the days of simply triangulating towards the centre and getting cozy with the Murdoch press are over. Labour needs to reach people and communities directly with an ambitious digital strategy and an army of self-organising activists. It is this kind of mass politics that delivered a "no" vote in Greece’s referendum on the terms of the Eurozone bailout last summer – defying pretty much the whole of the media, business and political establishment. 

The problem for Corbyn's challenger, Owen Smith, is that many of his backers have an open problem with this type of mass politics. Rather than investigate allegations of abuse, they have supported the suspension of CLPs. Rather than seeing the heightened emotions that come with mass mobilisations as side-effects which needs to be controlled, they have sought to joins unconnected acts of harassment, in order to smear Jeremy Corbyn. The MP Ben Bradshaw has even seemed to accuse Momentum of organising a conspiracy to physically attack Labour MPs.

The real conspiracy is much bigger than that. Hundreds of thousands of people are arriving, enthusiastic and determined, into the Labour party. These people, and their ability to convince the communities of which they are a part, threaten Britain’s political equilibrium, both the Conservatives and the Labour establishment. When the greatest hope for Labour becomes your greatest nightmare, you have good call to feel alarmed.