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Policy Exchange's Place Matters Newsletter
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Prosperity • People • Place • Patriotism
By Ike Ijeh
Introduction to the newsletter

Since the publication of our last newsletter in the summer, Street Votes, perhaps Building Beautiful’s signature policy proposal to date, has attracted national attention. Street Votes proposes a system where residents are given the power to control developments in their street and potentially share in their profit by voting for the adoption of a local design code. It is this design code, rather than the local planning authority, that would then effectively set the statutory rules by which subsequent developments must abide. 

The newly-installed Secretary of State for Levelling Up, Housing and Communities, Michael Gove, has been effusive in his praise of the proposals telling a parliamentary committee that he “loves” them and informing the House of Commons that he plans to have the measures passed into law. Commending the scheme to this house, he remarked that “it is rare that we have legislation that combines greater democratic control with the potential for the beautification —for want of a better word—of our urban and suburban environment, and also unlocks the potential for the value of individuals’ homes to be enhanced by additional development. It is a triple whammy of good news.” 

The clear opportunity Street Votes presents to help realise the government’s flagship levelling-up policy promises to ensure that this cornerstone Policy Exchange research recommendation could prove vital in helping to transform and improve the UK housing and planning sectors. The levelling-up white paper has now been delayed until early next year but we wait with some anticipation to see what role Street Votes and other Building Beautiful recommendations may play within it.  

And yet, despite these successes, Building Beautiful still has much to do. Polling carried out by Policy Exchange this month shows that 66% of the 1,859 respondents questioned had never heard of the Building Beautiful programme. This represents a massive challenge and opportunity for the government. If the government is serious about levelling-up and addressing the housing crisis then it must grasp more assertively the opportunities Building Beautiful’s core principles of design quality and democratic empowerment present to revitalise our built environment and incentivise communities to realise change.

Calls for that change might also be gathering pace on government backbenches. A policy paper released in the autumn might provide an indication for how Building Beautiful’s democratisation agenda might be embedded within a transformative political framework. Trusting the People has been written by ten backbench Tory MPs and has been co-published by the New Social Covenant Unit whose co-founder is now Gove’s parliamentary aide.  It calls for a dramatic return of power to local communities. Central to these plans are calls for residents to be made the “ultimate arbiters” of developments in their area and for neighbourhood planning to be made “universal”. This builds on findings from a 2018 Policy Exchange poll which found that 85% of respondents across all socioeconomic groups said new homes should either fit in with their more traditional surroundings or be identical to homes already in the area.

Politically the report’s proposals fall within the wider legislative pursuit of making the Planning Bill currently progressing through Parliament more acceptable to communities, some of whom felt it would leave them with less of a say on housing developments rather than more. The electoral consequences of this were brutally demonstrated, from the government’s perspective at least, at June’s Chesham and Amersham by-election. Philosophically the new proposals fall perfectly into the vision of community empowerment fundamental to the Building Beautiful movement and consistently championed by multiple Policy Exchange papers in recent years.

The case for a strategic reaffirmation of the Building Beautiful programme is also made by other conclusions our more recent polling has revealed. The RIBA Stirling Prize is the most prestigious prize in British architecture and confers annual awards for what architectural judges vote to be the best building in Britain. Yet of the ten past Stirling Prize winners, it is the two that embody traditional design principles, Goldsmith Street Housing in Norwich by Michel Riches Architects (2019 winner) and Astley Castle Renovation by Witherford Watson Mann Architects (2013 winner) that the public selected as their first and second favourite entrants respectively. This reveals a clear public appetite for the design principles that underpin the Building Beautiful programme.

One area that conspicuously and consistently fails to embrace these principles is tall buildings. In a number of British cities in recent decades and none more so than London, tall buildings have often wreaked damage on skyline and character. Policy Exchange has undertaken some of the most widespread and significant polling in this area compiled in years and the results are startling. 

41% of respondents believe London’s wave of tall buildings have worsened the city’s skyline as opposed to only 25% who believe it has been improved. 43% believe the view from Waterloo Bridge has been rendered less beautiful over the same period while only 23% believe the opposite. 45% of respondents believe tall buildings have harmed London’s historic character with 21% believing it has been enhanced by them. 65% believe tall buildings should not be built in historic areas at all and a staggering 71% insist they must not be allowed to intrude on historic views. 

And most compelling from a planning policy point of view, only 24% of people believe they have been adequately consulted about whether tall buildings should or shouldn’t be permitted and 56% believe new planning regulations should be introduced to more effectively control the development of tall buildings. 

It is for these reasons that in this newsletter and beyond, Policy Exchange will be arguing for a new tall buildings policy to be introduced for London and a national framework to guide the development of tall buildings in all British cities where they are proposed. Not only do we believe this to be fully in line with Building Beautiful’s principles of design quality and greater democratisation of the planning process, but we believe such a call is vindicated by our poll results which show clear public dissatisfaction with the current situation and a desire for greater public involvement in how tall buildings are allowed to impact their urban characters, cityscapes and communities.

Heritage has featured much in the headlines since the publication of our last newsletter. While not exactly a shock to many, Liverpool’s historic loss of its World Heritage Site status in the summer was acutely disappointing and poses serious questions for the political and cultural priority we as a country give to heritage assets. The Marble Arch Mound fiasco also exposes stark inadequacies in both our approach to appropriate development around historic national monuments and enhancing public space. 

The COP26 Climate Change Conference that took place in Glasgow in the autumn and the surprise planning inquiry decision to reject the proposals for the City of London’s Tulip observation tower proposals have ensured that environmental issues now dominate the headlines and are also explored in further detail in this newsletter. Climate change may also have the potential to influence the Building Beautiful agenda and the Prince of Wales’s latest proposals for a 2,500-unit, sustainable, “landscape-led” new town in Faversham, Kent might show how. The plans make an explicit connection between net-zero development and traditional design and could form a template for how the two principles might overlap in the future. If the new commitment to climate awareness in construction could be harnessed to a rediscovery of traditional and more sustainable design methods and principles in housebuilding then the Building Beautiful programme could become a key component in realising the government’s environmental as well as housebuilding ambitions.

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Despite these welcome developments there is still much to do to solve Britain’s housing crisis. Despite the success of Building Beautiful in proposing measures like Street Votes and in implementing new government policy decisions such as the new Office for Place and the adoption of a National Model Design Code, all too often the public are still resistant to new housing because they essentially fear it will be too ugly. Our polling showed that only 32% believe that the Building Beautiful programme could improve the quality of new UK housing indicating that there are still profound trust issues between the public and the various bodies they look towards for the delivery of housing stock. 

Equally, housebuilders are yet to be fully convinced of the benefits of viewing architectural quality as an integral rather than optional business commodity. And politicians are still fearful of a vicious circle in which both promoting or rejecting new housing has the potential to irritate vast swathes of the electorate. All these challenges are part of the reason why Britain isn’t building enough homes. It will now fall to Michael Gove and his new levelling-up department to square these circles. Britain’s housing crisis is by no means over. But some of the tools that have the potential to ease or even end it are now in place.

Ike Ijeh
Place Matters is always keen to be informed of housing and architectural developments across the country which you deem to be of either exceptionally high or low quality. Please send these to ikeijeh.px@gmail.com and I would be happy to consider them for inclusion in future newsletters. Thank you.
 

Contents
  1. In Memoriam – James Brokenshire                            
  2. In Memoriam – Owen Luder   
  3. In Memoriam – Richard Rogers
  4. In Memoriam – Chris Wilkinson         
  5. The Carbon Conundrum                                            
  6. The Legacy of Liverpool’s UNESCO Demotion            
  7. Building Beautiful Spaces                                           
  8. Tall Storeys: Height vs Heritage                                  
  9. Beauty & the Beast

In Memoriam


James Brokenshire
1968 - 2021

The untimely death at the age of 53 of former Secretary of State for Housing, Communities and Local Government, James Brokenshire is a great loss not just for his friends and parliamentary colleagues but for those who care about the built environment. Brokenshire’s parliamentary career lasted 16 years and in it he had served in a number of senior ministerial roles including as Secretary of State for Northern Ireland and more recently as Minister of State for Security. 

It is perhaps for his 15-month tenure as Housing Secretary that he will be most keenly remembered. During this relatively short period, Brokenshire set policy trends in motion whose benefits have yet to be seen in full. He was a stalwart champion of the Building Beautiful programme, he established the landmark Building Beautiful Building Better Commission some of whose recommendations in the form of an Office for Place and a National Design Code have now been realised and, in appointing acclaimed conservative philosopher Sir Roger Scruton as its chair, gave the Commission an intellectual heft that went some way to neutering its detractors. 

And, at least at the beginning, there were many detractors. Brokenshire became a lightning-rod for intense opposition to the Building Beautiful programme from planners, architects and even from within his own Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government. 

Brokenshire bore all these tribulations with his customary good nature and soft-spoken charm. While Building Beautiful still has much more to achieve, it is inconceivable that it would have made the impact it has thus far without Brokenshire’s unwavering commitment and support. It is not true that all political careers end in failure. In helping to reinstall beauty back into our collective consciousness, Brokenshire’s legacy will live on in the constellation of British towns, cities, communities and homes his policies quietly sought to rejuvenate and which forms the reassuring backbone of our national life.

In Memoriam


Owen Luder
1928 – 2021 

The untimely death at the age of 53 of former Secretary of State for Housing, Communities and Local Government, James Brokenshire is a great loss not just for his friends and parliamentary colleagues but for those who care about the built environment. Brokenshire’s parliamentary career lasted 16 years and in it he had served in a number of senior ministerial roles including as Secretary of State for Northern Ireland and more recently as Minister of State for Security. 

It is perhaps for his 15-month tenure as Housing Secretary that he will be most keenly remembered. During this relatively short period, Brokenshire set policy trends in motion whose benefits have yet to be seen in full. He was a stalwart champion of the Building Beautiful programme, he established the landmark Building Beautiful Building Better Commission some of whose recommendations in the form of an Office for Place and a National Design Code have now been realised and, in appointing acclaimed conservative philosopher Sir Roger Scruton as its chair, gave the Commission an intellectual heft that went some way to neutering its detractors. 

And, at least at the beginning, there were many detractors. Brokenshire became a lightning-rod for intense opposition to the Building Beautiful programme from planners, architects and even from within his own Ministry of Housing, Communities and Local Government. 

Brokenshire bore all these tribulations with his customary good nature and soft-spoken charm. While Building Beautiful still has much more to achieve, it is inconceivable that it would have made the impact it has thus far without Brokenshire’s unwavering commitment and support. It is not true that all political careers end in failure. In helping to reinstall beauty back into our collective consciousness, Brokenshire’s legacy will live on in the constellation of British towns, cities, communities and homes his policies quietly sought to rejuvenate and which forms the reassuring backbone of our national life.

Trinity Square, Gateshead; 1967-2010

In Memoriam


Lord Richard Rogers
1933 - 2021

The sad death of Richard Rogers just before Christmas marks the passing of one of the greatest architectural figures of our age. For three consecutive decades from the 1970s onwards Rogers was responsible for creating arguably the defining building of the decade in both Britain and France. In the 1970s he and his practice partner at the time Italian modernist Renzo Piano designed the Pompidou Centre museum in Paris, finally prising open the door to foreign architects that France’s famously hermetic architectural system had left firmly shut for centuries. In so doing Rogers helped create a gregarious, high-tech, industrial machine right in the centre of historic Paris that initially terrorised conservative Parisian sensitivities before eventually being accepted as one of the most popular museums in the capital.

In the 1980s Rogers moved his attention to London and in the infamous Lloyds Building in the City created arguably the most controversial major British building of the decade. With its radical ‘inside-out’ construction dramatically placing cores, ductwork and services on the outside thereby optimising the interior for habitable space, it delighted modernists by quite literally turned a century of office architectural convention on its head. But in doing so it outraged conservationists by pugilistically projecting its armour-plated, high-tech, hyper-industrial, ‘oil-rig’ machine aesthetic to its helpless historic surroundings.

And in the 1990s Rogers won what was probably the keynote British public commission of the decade when he was selected to design the Millennium Dome, home to the Labour government’s ambitious Millennium Exhibition. Less mechanistically uncompromising than its predecessors, it still maintained Rogers’ trademark technical ingenuity by erecting a vast spherical, glass-fibre, tensile structure so lightweight that the building weighs less than the air inside it.

While Rogers was worshipped by the architectural establishment, it is no secret that he was no advocate of traditionalism and would never, ever have subscribed to the Scrutonian ideals that underpin the Building Beautiful movement. Like many schooled in the Modernist orthodoxy Rogers did not see beauty as a tangible or viable aesthetic commodity but more as an ideological construct that, if necessary, could be procured through the purity of technological ingenuity and structural expressionism, features particularly synonymous with his work. 

Accordingly, Rogers, along with one-time practice partner Normal Foster at the start of his career, was a pioneer of the High-Tech style, Modernism’s defiant last stand which pursued a radical new functionalist, industrial style of architecture developed from the early 1970s that celebrated buildings as machines. Decoration, contextual empathy, historic sensitivity and traditional ideas of beauty were utterly banished.

As a result, in the Battle of the Styles that raged between modernists and traditionalists in the 1980s Rogers was frequently cast as the archetypal hero to the former and bogeyman to the latter. His most unlikely nemesis throughout his career emerged as none other than the Prince of Wales whose much-publicised and at times outspoken traditionalist sympathies irked both Rogers and the architectural establishment. 

In a number of bruising skirmishes on various showpiece projects such as the National Gallery Extension, Paternoster Square, the Royal Opera House redevelopment and Chelsea Barracks, the prince and the architect essentially fought a bitter proxy war for their respective architectural ideologies.

But while Rogers stood for much that traditionalism was against, he made three significant contributions to the canon of architecture that transcend style and will inevitably define his legacy. Intriguingly these achievements concentrate more on his activism than his architecture. First was his highly prescient environmentalism and in his seminal 1995 book, Cities for a Small Planet, Rogers’ impassioned arguments for compact cities, efficient public transport and local materials expertly foreshadowed today’s sustainability movement. They also influenced a new generation of architects.

His second legacy contribution was his extraordinarily high regard for public realm and public spaces. While many Modernists were ideologically ambivalent about public space preferring to focus objectively on their buildings instead, Rogers saw public space as an essential conduit for urban life and civic engagement and sought to prioritise them accordingly. While his buildings might project mechanistic aggression stylistically, his approach to public realm engagement, as evidenced by his dynamic, partially submerged public plaza at the base of his City of London Leadenhall Tower (2014), displayed an altogether more humane and creative approach. 

Again, he displayed admirable prescience here too. In the landmark 1986 London As It Could Be exhibition at the Royal Academy, his masterplanning ideas for pedestrianising public spaces in central London were eventually partially realised by the part-pedestrianisation of Trafalgar Square in 2003 by his old partner, Norman Foster.

And Rogers’ third and probably foremost legacy was his extraordinary political effectiveness, a skill for which architects are not commonly known. Rogers was deeply ingratiated with the New Labour government of the late 1990s and 2000s and in 1992 along with Shadow Minister for the Arts and Media at the time Mark Fisher, had written A New London, an extraordinary book-manifesto calling for radical change in the capital’s urban infrastructure and public realm. 

Shortly after Labour was elected in 1997 Rogers was asked to chair the government’s new Urban Task Force charged with arresting urban decline. Its ground-breaking 1999 Report, Towards An Urban Renaissance, was hugely influential and set in motion many of the built environment policy positions – such as urban densification and housing planning guidance – that are still in operation today. After the reinstallation of the London mayoralty in 2000, Rogers was also chief urban advisor to Mayor Ken Livingstone during both his terms in office.

Rogers was undoubtedly a divisive figure. He often appeared to delight in provoking traditionalists and, like many great artists perhaps, rarely seemed interested in marrying conviction with consensus. He was also a contradictory figure; many were puzzled when an architect who had made such great play of his social awareness and political activism accepted the commission to design what were at the time the most expensive flats in the world at London’s One Hyde Park (2011).

But in his environmental activism, public space engagement and most strongly in his exceptional political commitment, Rogers achieved an historic level of influence on the urban framework and landscape of Britain that architects rarely attain. He undoubtedly leaves behind an extraordinary body of architectural work. But there is a strong argument to claim that his greatest legacy lies not in the places he designed but the policies he wrote. 

In Memoriam


Chris Wilkinson
1945 - 2021

Chris Wilkinson was one half of a ground-breaking, RIBA Stirling Prize-winning British architectural practice, Wilkinson Eyre, that arguably did more to transform architecture and engineering into visual spectacle than any since designer Brunel. Like Brunel Wilkinson was obsessed with infrastructure, was a fastidious futurist and had the utmost faith in the ability of technology to provide innovative solutions that would enhance our urban environment and ultimately uplift the human spirit. And like Brunel, he pushed the boundaries of engineering to produce a series of structural spectaculars across the world that, though they clearly rejected traditionalism, exhibited a scale, intricacy and technological purity that frequently attained a theatrical, sculptural beauty all of their own.

It is perhaps this final aspect that separates Wilkinson most from his High-Tech contemporaries. Like Richard Rogers, Norman Foster and Michael Hopkins, all of whom he worked with at the start of his career, Wilkinson was a committed subscriber to the High-Tech style, Modernism’s final, defiant push for industrial efficiency and technological functionalism before it was all swept away in the 1980s by the surge of Post-Modernism. 
But unlike many of his High-Tech peers and again like Brunel, Wilkinson had an eye for something else too, purity of form. For him, it was fine to assemble and process buildings like machines, as High-Tech instructed. But if these machine-buildings could have clean lines and elegant forms too, all the better. 

We see this intriguing fusion between elegance and engineering in Wilkinson’s best work. At the extraordinary Gardens By the Bay in Singapore he casts two gigantic glass conservatories as a pair of serrated elliptical domes inspired by the naturalistic form of an orchid flower. And in China’s Guangzhou IFC skyscraper, the gentle double-curved geometry of the façade helps create a gently twisting sculptural form. 

But as a consummate architect-engineer in Brunel’s own tradition, it is arguably on Wilkinson’s extraordinary collection of bridges where we see his extreme technological prowess modelled into forms of enduring visual beauty. At the famous Gateshead Millennium Bridge, walkway and arch are strung together by a series of tensile cables that allow the swooping curves of both to be dramatically tilted to allow ships to path underneath. Similar swinging bridges in locations as far afield as Denmark to London’s Denmark followed a similar pattern. And perhaps most memorably at his stunning Bridge of Aspiration that links London’s Royal Opera House to the adjacent Royal Ballet School across a narrow alley, the bridge’s rectilinear frame shudders and twists with the compressive fluidity of a concertina being successively compressed and released between two palms. 

The latter project also highlights Wilkinson’s ease working with historic contexts, conditions in which High-Tech almost never finds itself comfortable. This was again displayed at his refurbishment of Giles Gilbert Scott’s Weston Library in Oxford, where Wilkinson’s clean lines and gentle reorganisation sensitively extend the host 1930s building. 

Wilkinson leaves behind an extraordinary legacy of remarkable buildings and structures that prove that in the right hands, technology, engineering and beauty can comfortably co-exist.

The Carbon Conundrum


Carbon appears to be the new policy frontline that determines whether buildings should be allowed to stay or go. But is it right that environmental concerns should trump all others when determining beauty and civic good?
The decision in November to reject the City of London Tulip observation tower proposals at public inquiry surprised many and is thought to be the first time carbon concerns have contributed to the cancellation of a major development.

What do the now vanquished plans for the 305m Tulip observation tower in the City of London have to do with Marks & Spencer’s flagship store at Marble Arch? The answer can be summed up in one word: carbon. And the varying fates of each building provides an intriguing indication of the extent to which climate change and growing concerns about excessive carbon use in construction are now driving urban development and have the potential to become major arbiters of what our cities will look like in the future. 

After years of controversy, the Tulip scheme was finally rejected at public inquiry in November. The secretary of state produced a number of reasons for his decision, most of which were expected. These included patently valid concerns about heritage impact, height and design. But one reason surprised many, the proposals were also rejected for the vast amounts of concrete required for their lift shafts and foundations and they were consequently deemed “unsustainable” and incompatible with the climate change agenda.

Now on one level it is possible to observe that these remarks require more than a shade of cognitive license. Hospitals, airports, roads and housing also consume vast amounts of concrete too, are these buildings now going to fall foul of government policy as well? But cynicism aside, it is now believed that the Tulip has inadvertently made history in a way it did not intend by becoming the first major building to be rejected on the basis of excessive carbon consumption. 

Four miles to the west another storm is brewing. M&S Marble Arch store is the retail chain’s flagship property and was once so popular that at one point it made more made more money per square foot than any other shop in the world. It is housed in a handsome if unassuming 1930 block appointed in the same mix of Art Deco and stripped neo-baroque classicism that characterises so much of Oxford Street and particularly nearby Regent Street but is (rightly) stylistically subordinate to the spectacular Selfridge’s next door. 

So subordinate in fact that M&S has decided to demolish it and last month won planning permission from what would seem to be an increasingly renegade Westminster City Council (see Marble Arch Mound) to replace it with a charmless slab blankly sporting the lobotomised vacuity of a business park. The move has sparked howls of outrage from the public, critics and commentators alike yet, failing a last-minute spot-listing or a change of heart from M&S, yet another key piece of West End heritage is to be lost.
The proposal to replace the existing M&S flagship store (left) with a new building has sparked a furious reaction from both heritage and environmental campaigners. 

There is of course no question that the current building should be saved. In both architectural and urbanistic terms it is infinitely superior to its successor and its loss will mark a spiteful surge of uglification on Oxford Street’s streetscape executed under the spurious motivational umbrella of ‘regeneration’, all of which is anathema to Building Beautiful ideals.

But there is another important point which campaigners have raised which links this situation to that faced by the Tulip. Many have rightly remarked that Westminster’s justification that the new building will generate net zero carbon is nullified by the fact that the demolition of the existing store will squander 39,500 tonnes of embodied carbon, namely the amount of carbon emitted during the construction of a building through processes like transport and material manufacture. Considering that Westminster City Council issued a volley of virtuous tweets about climate change the very morning after the decision to demolish the store was reached, one imagines the environmental irony of their planning committee’s conclusion has made a greater impact elsewhere.

So at the Tulip carbon has been used to condemn the building but at Marble Arch it is being used to try and save it. On the face of it, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this state of affairs and if the carbon argument can help secure the store’s survival then it should be relentlessly deployed. 

However, the potential problem arises if we take the embodied carbon argument to its extremity which would inevitably decree that no building should ever be demolished. Yes, M&S Marble Arch is worth saving purely on aesthetic, architectural and heritage grounds alone. But what if the situation were inversed and the building in question is an obstreperous eyesore or a nihilistic 1960s tower block that has terrorised a low-rise suburban town centre for decades, scenarios that regularly apply across the country? Must we never knock down bad as well as good buildings in the name of saving embodied carbon? And what would this mean for the future evolution of our townscapes? Does climate change mean they must essentially remain the same forever?
A rigorously applied embodied carbon retention approach might have made the demolition of eyesores like Newcastle’s Westgate House (1972) more difficult.

The counter to this argument is a convincing one: adaptation. This essentially requires the building to be stripped back to its structural frame on top of which a new function or façade can be overlaid without demolition and without embodied carbon being lost. Adaptive reuse and refurbishment of historic buildings is a burgeoning sector that frequently produces brilliant results and scores of buildings, from old ones like Alexandra Palace Theatre to newer ones like Centre Point, show how successful the process can be. 

But the fact remains that no amount of adaptation will transform a 20-storey tower block into a four-storey townhouse and as a society we will need to make bold decisions about when embodied carbon must be sacrificed for the greater civic good. In so doing we will also need to shed societal and cultural reticence about defining beautify and become more assertive about the aesthetic, urban and heritage implications and credentials of any given proposal. Then we must have the confidence to ensure that these properties are given the singular priority they deserve.

Of course civilisation can face no greater challenge than saving the planet and reversing climate change must remain a paramount political and architectural ambition. But so too should the mission to ensure that our buildings and cities are either adapted or retained on the basis of the needs and preferences of those who inhabit them. Minimising carbon is a responsibility but in a holistic society that exercises nuance and discretion where necessary, it need not always be the rule.

The Legacy of Liverpool’s UNESCO Demotion


What does the loss of Liverpool’s UNESCO World Heritage Site status mean for architecture, development and UK planning policy?
The black prism of the Mann Island development (2013) and the chequerboard cladding of the 40-storey West Tower (2007) behind it (both centre) are just two of the controversial projects visible from Liverpool’s historic Pier Head and Albert Dock that helped contribute to the city’s delisting as a UNESCO World Heritage site this summer. 

This summer, Liverpool became one of only two cities in the world to ever be stripped of its UNESCO World Heritage Site status. The other city was the German baroque marvel of Dresden, punished in 2009, perhaps excessively, for a single new bridge which UNESCO sourly derided as an “eyesore”. Liverpool’s supposed crimes, in UNESCO’s eyes at least, were more egregious and focused on what it described as the “irreversible loss” of the “outstanding universal value” of Liverpool’s waterfront and the historic docks that line them. It cited a number of what it saw as insensitive and inappropriate developments that harmed the setting and integrity of the World Heritage Site, including Everton football club’s proposed £500m new stadium but chiefly the controversial, long-running saga of the £5.5bn Liverpool Waters riverfront regeneration project.

City burghers and politicians reacted with predictable fury. Former housing minister Robert Jenrick observed that the UNESCO move was “..disappointing. Liverpool demonstrably has world class heritage sites and UNESCO should support imaginative urban regeneration, not fight against it.” Warming to this theme, Liverpool City Region Metro Mayor Steve Rotheram expanded on it. “Places like Liverpool should not be faced with the binary choice between maintaining heritage status or regenerating left behind communities – and the wealth of jobs and opportunities that come with it.” And Militant firebrand former Liverpool City Council Deputy Leader Derek Hatton fumed that “We don’t need an undemocratic, self-appointed body, needing a sat nav to find their way to Liverpool, meeting 3000 miles away telling us how to develop our city. Yes heritage is important but so are jobs and homes. Tell UNESCO to stick their World Heritage List.”

Hatton’s democracy point is interesting. UNESCO is indeed an unelected body and they certainly do not enjoy any democratic mandate to override elected city officials on how best to develop their city. But this point is neutered by the fact that UNESCO World Heritage Site listing requires a voluntary application from the prospective recipient and it is those same elected city officials who chose to apply for Liverpool’s listed status in 2004 and who were presumably well aware of the rules and responsibilities acceptance entailed. It is certainly possible to separate scepticism about UNESCO’s democratic mandate from recognition of the conservation infractions they raise.

The more tangible, and worrying aspect of much of the reaction is the implication made by both Jenrick and Rotherham that protecting heritage and achieving regeneration is a choice between two diametrically opposed outcomes. It isn’t. Both can be secured simultaneously and had Liverpool’s authorities made greater efforts to do so it might still have its World Heritage Site listing today. The real choice Liverpool, and all cities who rightly wish to grow and develop, are faced with is between good and bad architecture. And all too often in its nonchalant embrace of bland and anodyne proposals that harmed both heritage and context at its waterfront and beyond, Liverpool, despite repeated warnings, chose the latter.
Though outside the World Heritage Site the former 1912 Futurist Cinema (left) was within its buffer zone and its controversial demolition and replacement with a dystopian metal slab in 2018 (right) under the inevitable guise of ‘regeneration’ summarised what many felt was the city’s reckless and irresponsible attitude towards heritage and conservation.

The sorriest element of this saga is that not only has Liverpool’s great maritime heritage left it with a spectacular architectural legacy (English Heritage describe it as “England’s finest Victorian city”) but in recent decades Liverpool has set the national benchmark for best practice in heritage regeneration. The seminal redevelopment of the Albert Dock in the 1980s, enabled by the first Thatcher government’s visionary Merseyside Development Corporation, has transformed it into the most visited mixed-use attraction in the UK today and the ongoing regeneration of the colossal 2 million ft² Stanley Dock is being pursued with similar ambition and creativity. 
The Titanic Hotel in Liverpool’s regenerated Stanley Dock (Darmody Architecture, 2014) offers a superlative example of how heritage can be harnessed in contemporary developments.

Both schemes, as well as countless others throughout the city, show that it is possible to imaginatively and creatively adapt and reimagine derelict historic buildings for modern purposes and to also intersperse them with vigorous but sensitive contemporary additions. That the vision behind these precedents could not be extrapolated to form a wider civic procedural framework for how the city as a whole navigates between old and new is both tragic and perverse. Moreover, that would have been exactly the kind of statutory initiative that could well have allowed Liverpool to retain its UNESCO listing.

It is a tragedy not solely realised by poor architecture but again, by the lack of effective planning policy at local and national level. Management of UK heritage assets must usually negotiate a fractured and often contradictory triumvirate of statutory overseers. First the local authority, often unduly beholden, as was alleged to be the case in Liverpool, to developer interests. Then the Department of Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) which is ultimately responsible for the protection of heritage assets. And then finally the Department for Levelling Up, Housing & Communities which controls planning regulations and has the ultimate power to award or deny permission to controversial proposals. Particularly where the state is concerned, multiplication of responsibilities inevitably leads to their marginalisation. Heritage desperately needs a more forensic statutory focus to protect it.

For all Britain’s reputation as a country that clings to its past, this disjointed governmental structure is also indicative of a culture and society that often assumes heritage will be there forever and can therefore be taken for granted. How else to explain Liverpool Waters’ proposals to infill one of the world’s largest surviving Victorian dock networks with a wall of obstreperous skyscrapers? Like an elderly but much-loved dowager aunt, we imagine our heritage will survive on a diet of occasional phone calls and Christmas cards until inevitably claimed by the coil of mortality. This will not do. If we want to ensure that more of our revered historic buildings avoid the punishment that both UNESCO and local and central government have variously and recently administered to Liverpool, then we must first understand that heritage is a responsibility not a right.
 

Building Beautiful Spaces


It’s time to give public space the priority it deserves.
Sadly, one of Boris Johnson’s first policy decisions when he was elected Mayor of London in 2008 was to scrap plans for the pedestrianisation of Parliament Square. They should be revived. © Hawkins Brown

The Building Beautiful programme has rightly focused primarily on buildings but public spaces are the glue that hold our cities and communities together. No matter how celebrated or respected or well-designed its buildings, no city or neighbourhood with poor public spaces will flourish. In the UK the profile and quality of public spaces has improved exponentially in recent decades.

Public spaces were once considered an optional adjunct to the main business of buildings, frequently belittled or maligned as little more than circulatory conduits that fell firmly within the remit of the traffic engineer rather than the architect or urbanist. But today public space design is a discipline in its own right and there is now an established awareness that these spaces matter, even if the results are often less than successful.

Into the latter category must sadly fall one of the chief controversies of the summer, the disastrous Marble Arch Mound. Opening to risible reviews in July, the £6m attraction – a temporary 25m-high metal stump designed by Dutch architects MVRDV as an artificial hill - has endured so ferocious an onslaught of ridicule and derision that not only has the Deputy Leader of Westminster Council resigned but its entrance fee has been scrapped.

But the most tragic aspect of the mound and the reason why it offers such a sobering lesson for all those who desperately believe in the importance of public space is that the mound is a gross distraction from what Marble Arch and scores of other traffic dominated junctions across the country need: namely, an intelligently redesigned public space that prioritizes pedestrians over traffic; brings genuine enhancement to the public realm; offers greater contextual empathy; and, in Marble Arch’s case, provides an improved setting for public or national monuments. 
While the addition of a light show in its interior attracted visitors, the Marble Arch Mound remains a public relations and public space disaster.

The latter issue is particularly vexatious for Marble Arch. The mound was devised by Westminster City Council as a means to entice visitors back to the West End in general and the adjacent Oxford Street in particular after the economic battering they have suffered in the wake of the pandemic. This is a worthy enough ambition. The problem was that this location already contained an attraction that, with some imaginative realisation of some of the aforesaid improvements, was fully capable of achieving the council’s goals: the elegant and graceful Marble Arch monument itself.  

But instead the gimmick has triumphed over the good and the venerable symbolic prominence of one of Europe’s finest neo-classical gateways has been carelessly compromised in favour of the fleeting, illusory rush of contrived gratification channelled in the form of an expensive municipal trinket which, beyond the hollow glamour of the new, signifies, symbolises and contributes nothing.

Even more unsettling is Westminster City Council’s now tarnished reputation as a responsible custodian of heritage. The fact that the local authority with more listed buildings than any other in the UK is capable of treating its own heritage with such casual indignity is indicative of wider planning incompetency that all too frequently views heritage as a quaint historical caricature rather than an intrinsic part of our contemporary civic character and conversation.

Sadly, such indignities are present at scores of other major public spaces in London and they all speak of a society that, despite many welcome advances in this area, still does not habitually give public space the prominence and respect it deserves. Rather than being the grand ceremonial entrance to London it was originally conceived to be, Hyde Park Corner remains a vapid jumble of monuments strangulated by a girdle of traffic. 

No Piazza San Marco or Notre Dame de Paris cathedral square for Westminster Abbey either; instead its magnificent West Front is forced to sulk awkwardly in the corner of a car park. And Parliament Square, civic retainer of the Mother of Parliaments, remains a truculent rectilinear roundabout where any meaningful relationship between its central space and the sublime procession of monuments that surround it is utterly severed by a dark halo of tarmac. 
 
How can it be possible that the small regional French town of Auch (left) affords its cathedral a quality of public space that we cannot provide at what is in effect our joint national church of Westminster Abbey (right)?

This is not just an issue for London. These are emblematic national spaces that project an image of Britain and how we see ourselves to the outside world. Unless we urgently and dramatically improve them, we cannot truly claim to be a society that understands the true symbiotic value of cities, places and people. 

All is not lost however and, in some areas, London in particular is making great strides with its efforts to revitalise public space. Construction is underway at the Strand/Aldwych pedestrianisation scheme which will see the entire southern side of Aldwych closed to traffic and a new linear public square erected in its place. Bank Junction, for centuries a snarling knuckle of traffic, will be part-pedestrianised to prioritise cyclists and pedestrians and afford a finer setting for the iconic City institutions that surround it. 

And across the capital former roundabouts at locations like Archway, Highbury & Islington, Old Street and Elephant & Castle are having their roadways radically reconfigured to create new public squares. Even Marble Arch has an aspirational redevelopment masterplan in the works which goes some way to addressing some of the current public space inadequacies of the site. Pedestrianisation need not always be the solution but an enhanced public realm should always be the goal.

However the Marble Arch imbroglio has still had a final, vindictive laugh that offers a salutary lesson on the political perils of trivialising public space concerns. Chastened by criticism, Westminster City Council has now nervously put ambitious plans to part-pedestrianise Oxford Street and create new twin piazzas at Oxford Circus on ice. The irony is that unlike the Marble Arch Mound, these plans offered profound urban benefits and represented a careful compromise between traffic and pedestrians for a site that has been a public realm conundrum for decades. Gimmicks may be temporary but in a city where municipal change evolves as glacially as in London, they have the potential to leave permanent and lasting damage.

Tall Storeys: Height vs Heritage


In recent decades tall buildings have changed London beyond recognition. A new, comprehensive, city-wide tall buildings policy is urgently required if we are to save what remains of its skyline and character.
The apocalyptic overshadowing of Southwark’s Grade II* listed Hopton’s Almshouses (1752) by the Neo Bankside development (2012) is one of countless examples across the capital where the incongruous design and location of tall buildings has damaged London’s urban and historic character. 

With hundreds of tall buildings proposed and built in the capital since the Gherkin won planning permission in 2000 and an estimated 597 currently in the planning pipeline for this year alone, London’s urban form has changed more dramatically over the past 20 years than it did for the bulk of the 200 years that preceded it.

Why does this matter? London is a city famed for its dynamism and change so why shouldn’t this be reflected in its urban form? It matters for three reasons. First London may be a modern city but it is also an ancient one and from the City of London to Nine Elms the capital is now littered with painful contextual incongruities that reflect a fundamental failure to sensibly reconcile tall buildings with London’s vital built heritage.
 
Secondly these buildings mark a fundamental change in London’s traditional low and mid-rise character and urban identity, as significant a change as Chicago or New York suddenly deciding to abandon high-rises in favour of lower buildings. Whereas in those cities it would be unthinkable that such a shift would be implemented without at least some form of public debate, London has been radically transformed without even a shred of democratic notification or consent. It is a bizarre reversal of comparative urban traditions that it is now easier in planning terms to build a skyscraper in a London suburb than it would be in an American one.

And thirdly, many of these buildings are poorly designed and display astonishing contextual insensitivity, either towering boorishly over suburban neighbourhoods or national monuments or armour-plated with cladding or shapes so vindictively obtuse that they somehow manage to combine belligerence and mediocrity with ease. London may be a taller city than it was 20 years ago but as its shambolic skyline painfully demonstrates, it is also, regrettably, an uglier one.
While they usually enjoy unwarranted prominence on its skyline and in its views, London’s recent generation of tall buildings have rarely been designed with beauty in mind.

These conclusions are sadly reflected in recent polling Policy Exchange has undertaken in this area and which flies in the face of the tall buildings planning and development precedents London has set in recent decades. 71% of the 1,859 respondents polled believe that tall buildings should not be allowed to intrude onto historic views. 65% believe tall buildings should not be built in historic areas at all, a damning indictment of the City of London’s policy in particular.

45% of respondents believe tall buildings have harmed London’s historic character with 21% believing it has been enhanced by them. 43% believe the view from Waterloo Bridge has been rendered less beautiful by the addition of tall buildings over the last 20 years while only 23% believe the opposite. 41% believe London’s wave of tall buildings have worsened the city’s skyline as opposed to only 25% who believe it has improved it. 

What can be done about this? As with most areas of planning it is policy that must take a lead but regrettably it has proved sorely lacking. The London View Management Framework superimposes a number of protected viewing corridors across the city and is designed to preserve views of landmarks like Big Ben and St. Paul’s. But it is more selective than strategic and, as the farce of a Stratford skyscraper recently obscuring the allegedly protected 300-year-old view of St. Paul’s from Richmond Park pitifully demonstrated, it is entirely unfit for its modern-day purpose.

Robert Jenrick’s solution was to allow London’s boroughs to set their own tall buildings policy, as he detailed at a Policy Exchange seminar in July:
The controversial proposals for the St. Michael’s development in Manchester are an example of how the renewed friction between height and heritage that London has witnessed in recent decades has now been exported to other British cities. The £200m mixed-use plans are being pursued by the development company of former footballer Gary Neville but despite planning permission being granted in 2018 the project has been dogged by intense local and heritage opposition. This largely centred on the height of proposed buildings and early proposals to demolish a number of historic buildings. Historic England labelled original high-rise designs “aggressive” and argued that the scheme was not good enough to “justify the damage it would cause to the streets around the site and to the setting of the city’s most important buildings and spaces”. Demolition for an amended version of the scheme began in April 2021. The © Hodder + Partners

‘I used my powers to direct the Mayor of London that the London Plan should enable every local authority to come up with their own tall buildings policy so that any borough could say where they do want tall buildings and where they don’t.”
 
This might be all well and good for individual boroughs but it is a hopeless solution for London as a whole because it ignores the fact that London’s politically autonomous borough hierarchy means boroughs are not required to take responsibility for the impact tall buildings may have beyond their boundary. The farcical result is boroughs playing urban sheriff to complain about developments beyond their boundaries while often simultaneously implementing their own developments that cause exactly the same consternation elsewhere. 

The solution to all this is simple. London needs a definitive, coherent, city-wide tall buildings policy that guides the development of high-rise buildings across the city and ensures they are sensitively located and of a consistent high architectural quality. This will by no means be designed to suppress tall buildings. A well-designed skyscraper can be a thing of awesome beauty and for good or ill they are now part of our architectural lexicon. But it will merely ensure that their cumulative impact is adequately considered and London is able to articulate a high-rise vision for the city as a whole rather than as 33 autonomous borough fiefdoms.  

The call for such a policy is backed overwhelmingly by the results of our poll. 56% of respondents believed new planning regulations should be introduced to more effectively control the development of tall buildings. 41% felt that current planning regulations are inadequate as opposed to 31% who thought otherwise. Crucially 64% felt they wanted a more significant say in whether or not tall buildings are built. And most alarmingly of all from a democratic standpoint, the exact same amount thought this significant say had been denied to them. 

While tall buildings are particularly sensitive to local issues and contexts, Such a policy could also be set within a broader and more strategic national tall buildings policy framework and thereby applied to cities across the UK which have felt similar pressures. Manchester, Birmingham, Liverpool and Norwich are just some that have struggled to similarly reconcile height and heritage. It could also ensure that tall buildings are statutorily compelled to make a meaningful contribution to London’s housing crisis rather than being cynically deployed as a default developer device designed to maximise lettable area. It is perverse that despite the fact that the vast majority of tall building proposals in London are residential rather than office, the housing crisis remains in as robust form as ever. Only 11% of respondents to our poll believed that London’s explosion of tall buildings had significantly improved the availability of housing in the capital.

The alternative is that London spends the next 20 years continuing down its current path of harmful, haphazard and opportunistic high-rise development that slowly but surely chips away at the charm and character that makes the capital so attractive to developers in the first place. And in their place all we will be left with is an incongruous, identikit brand of globalised architectural anonymity that turns London into a rusty pantomime of Toronto or Dubai. The time to act is now and unless the capital gets the strategic, coordinated high-rise policy it deserves, London’s goose will carry on poisoning her golden egg.
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