Fairytale housing is building up new problems

Solve one social problem but don't cause another crisis.

Imogen Ball

Imogen is a writer, mum, and priest on a new housing development in the South-West of England.

A CGI of a new housing estate viewed from above.

Home Builders Federation.

This time last year Labour promised 1.5 million new homes as part of its election campaign. Now plans are afoot to get these houses well and truly off the ground. New housing is seen as the salvific answer to one of Britain’s greatest social problems. The housing crisis sees rent-avoiding sofa surfers, impossibly high interest rates (except from the bank of mum and dad), and a scarcity of social housing.

New builds are to the housing crisis what the fairy godmother was to Cinderella. Adequate and safe housing is an essential infrastructure for any society and is a fundamental human right. With an influx of new properties on the market, prices fall, social and affordable housing increases, and people are able to buy before their inheritance arrives. Families on housing waiting lists can live in a home somewhere they know. New housing offers Britons opportunities to find, purchase, and live in their forever, fairytale homes. In theory.

It could turn out to be a nightmare. We are instead sentencing them to social and spiritual isolation. By focusing on building houses, we fail to meet the essential human need for community, social interaction, and connection. (Wo)man is not, and never will be an island. Building homes is not enough. We must also build communities.

As we build community we safeguard against the epidemic of loneliness, segregation, and isolation

On new housing developments, organic community creation is challenging. Momentum is required to create communities. The government’s house building target does recognise the need for infrastructures such as doctor’s surgeries and schools. But these are not developers’ priorities. And they are also not enough to embed community into those new developments.

Can you imagine your fairytale home without the corner shop for an emergency pint of milk? Or without the café for bleary eyed mums and babes? Or without the play park, pub, poo bin, and postbox? Can you imagine your happily ever after will be without a local hall for big birthday celebrations, for scout groups, and for Pilates? What about a church, with bells ringing out the universal soundtrack of Sunday mornings, offering a space to breathe, to pray, and to explore your own spiritual journey?

We have recently moved onto a new housing development and have seen firsthand the need for community amongst these supposedly dream homes. We are also part of a new church here, writing a different story and weaving community throughout the development. Knowing our neighbours’ names and giving and receiving help are part of embracing social interaction. Our pop-up coffee bike is a place where people can gather and get to know one another around a nearly-expertly brewed beverage. This is the beginning of human connection within a community.

But the church also offers a place for spiritual connection. New housing without the opportunities for human and spiritual connection leave residents on a cliffhanger. The church offers people another ending to their fairytale. Because the dream-like show-home does not become our own and we are left with the disappointment of reality. The story of Jesus speaks of miracles not magic wands, redemption not Red Riding Hood, the Prince of Peace not Prince Charming. In the void left by developers, Jesus can speak, the Spirit can move, and the church can show up to offer human and spiritual connection and meaningful community.

Though these new builds may solve the housing crisis, they may also contribute to a crisis of community across our nation. But as we build community we safeguard against the epidemic of loneliness, segregation, and isolation. We imagine spaces into being so that community can flourish. Perhaps then we can look forward together to a different kind of happily ever after.

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Politics

26 February 2024

3 min read

When tradition deserves a break

Upsetting a convention caused uproar, so is it right to break with tradition?

Yaroslav Walker

Yaroslav is Vicar of Christ Church, Hampstead.

A robed and seated man, in a speaker's chair talks and gesticulates.

The House of Common's Speaker.

Parliament TV.

“Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since a speaker of the Commons stood down from its high chair with dignity and to applause.” Thus wrote Andrew Rawnsley in the Guardian this Sunday. Last week the House of Commons erupted. An unedifying lava-spew of recrimination and anger flowed through the corridors of power as the Speaker of the House, The Right Honourable Sir Lindsay Hoyle, broke parliamentary convention to the seeming benefit of the Labour Party. Memories of his predecessors’ playing fast-and-loose with Parliamentary procedure pushed buttons. The SNP’s Gaelic fury founded a flurry of calls for the Speaker to step-down, and it was not until he gave a near-tearful apology that some calm seemed to be restored. Opponents cried foul - ‘how dare he upend the conventions of the House!?’ - while supporters jumped to his aid - ‘he was just trying to protect MPs from further harassment over the Israel-Gaza debate!’ - and everyone was unhappy…

The technicalities of this convention (that multiple amendments are not called upon for voting during an Opposition Day Debate) are less interesting to me than the fact that the convention exists. ‘Convention’ is another word for ‘tradition’. Traditions are important. Our famously ‘unwritten’ Constitution relies heavily on tradition, especially for the smooth running of Parliament. Rather than having the process of legislating and governing micro-managed with procedural minutiae, the Commons operate on the basis of nurturing and conforming to its traditions. In essence, the House of Commons operates on the basis of respect - by respecting the traditions of the House, Parliamentarians grow to respect each other as fellow followers of tradition. Exterior action builds-up interior disposition. Practice influences sentiment.

At least, that’s my romantic take on it. Traditions give some coherence to a society - from the society of elected MPs right through the society of a nation - and allow it to flourish. Traditions bind people together. Traditions unite. You may come from a different part of the country than your neighbour, have different family values, have a different religion or skin-colour or education-level, etc…but you can be united in the traditions you follow. Whether it’s having a roast on a Sunday, going to a Carol Service in December, singing Three Lions in a World Cup year, the traditions you share despite all other differences give you a common cause with those around you.

This is not to say that traditions can’t have a dark side. Some traditions can alienate guests. Some traditions can stifle creativity and innovation. Some traditions can be maintained purely to bamboozle the uninitiated for the benefit of those in the know. In extremis, some traditions can lead to groupthink, to the othering of those who don’t share them, to jingoism and hatred; St Paul wrote that it was the zeal for the traditions of his fathers than led him to persecute the first Christians. Traditions should never be taken for granted or left unexamined. Traditions are roses - beautiful and sweet-smelling, but always in need of pruning. But let the gardener prune carefully - you want some roses left for the garden.

When the scribes and Pharisees try to trick and trap Jesus with impossible thought experiments, they often quote their traditions. Jesus always wins the debate. He wins in the face of their traditionalism. He wins by being a radical. RADICAL! His radicalism is not marked by the abandonment of the concept of tradition, but by deep respect for it. The Sermon on the Mount is probably the most famous speech about the importance of tradition - “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times…But I say to you…” - keeping the traditions of God in the face of the self-serving traditions of men. The scribes and the Pharisees are the White Witch to Jesus’ Aslan: ‘“It means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time.”’

Not every critic last week will have genuinely cared about the traditions of the House of Commons. Many will have mouthed the words but would have happily stood by if the breaking of convention benefited them. Nevertheless, we must take tradition, and it’s breaking, seriously. Traditions nurtures the relationships of MPs. Traditions nurture the relationships of neighbours and fellow citizens. Traditions nurture relationship with God, as the traditional rhythms of religious practice and Church seasons help order prayer and worship. Perhaps we’ll look back on the upturning of this particular Commons tradition and recognise it as the right rejection of an outdated convention…but let's be cautious. Traditions are important. Break them with care.