These squares are our squares be angry about the privatisation of public space Bradley L Garrett
These squares are our squares be angry about the privatisation of public space
Bradley L Garrett
The public spaces of London, the collective assets of the city’s citizens, are being sold to corporations – privatised – without explanation or apology. The process has been strategically engineered to seem necessary, benign and even inconsequential, but behind the veil, the simple fact is this: the United Kingdom is in the midst of the largest sell-off of common space since the enclosures of the 17th and 18th century, and London is the epicentre of the fire sale.
Cities shape our experiences. As we drift through the winding streets of our capital, our mood is affected by the bustling, menacing or inert environments we encounter. Stumbling upon a quiet square in the middle of a busy day can feel like finding water in the desert. In the days and weeks that follow, we might seek that spot instead of chancing across it, making it ‘ours’ in a meaningful way. Over years living in a city, we all weave mental maps of the squares, parks, paths and gardens where we pause, recharge, and meet. These are our public spaces.
Each of these public spaces also holds within them something less tangible: a potential to transform. They transform day-to-day as they are negotiated between dog walkers, footballers and picnickers, and on a larger scale by festivals, performances and protests. In our most desperate moments as a society, we hold these public spaces as a collective body and defend our broader rights from them. In short, democratic values are coded into our public spaces, and it is precisely because they are collectively owned that we have an expectation that they will be free, open and available when we need them, whoever “we” might be. Public space is a right, not a privilege.
In 2011, the consequences of privatising public land came into sharp focus when Occupy protesters we forced out of Paternoster Square by a court order that revealed that the space was owned by the Mitsubishi Estate Company. It seemed, at the time, too dystopian to be true, that the rules imposed by a corporation could supersede the law of the land.
Soon after, we began hearing about confrontations in other pseudo-public spaces, such as on the land of More London, where City Hall is a public island in a sea of privatised open air space owned by Kuwaiti land barons. It transpires that for the past few decades almost every major redevelopment in London has resulted in the privatisation of public space, including areas around the Olympic Stadium, King’s Cross and Nine Elms.
Local councils, straining under austerity measures and desperate to cut maintenance budgets and to release themselves from liability, are not only complicit in the process but refused to provide useful information in response to Freedom of Information (FOI) requests from the Guardian, stating they either did not have the resources to respond or that they did not hold the data.
Consider for a moment what it means to live in a city where the government does not hold information about where public spaces are, nor any records about when or why they have been sold to private developers.
Given the controversy surrounding the £37.7 million of public money spent on the cancelled Garden Bridge (another pseudo-public space), should the National Audit Office not expand their investigation to ascertain who exactly is behind the enthusiastic sale our public land? Given that last year the government tried (not for the first time) to privatise the Land Registry itself, where this information is held, we are past due in breaking out the tinfoil hats.
Bradley L Garrett
The public spaces of London, the collective assets of the city’s citizens, are being sold to corporations – privatised – without explanation or apology. The process has been strategically engineered to seem necessary, benign and even inconsequential, but behind the veil, the simple fact is this: the United Kingdom is in the midst of the largest sell-off of common space since the enclosures of the 17th and 18th century, and London is the epicentre of the fire sale.
Cities shape our experiences. As we drift through the winding streets of our capital, our mood is affected by the bustling, menacing or inert environments we encounter. Stumbling upon a quiet square in the middle of a busy day can feel like finding water in the desert. In the days and weeks that follow, we might seek that spot instead of chancing across it, making it ‘ours’ in a meaningful way. Over years living in a city, we all weave mental maps of the squares, parks, paths and gardens where we pause, recharge, and meet. These are our public spaces.
Each of these public spaces also holds within them something less tangible: a potential to transform. They transform day-to-day as they are negotiated between dog walkers, footballers and picnickers, and on a larger scale by festivals, performances and protests. In our most desperate moments as a society, we hold these public spaces as a collective body and defend our broader rights from them. In short, democratic values are coded into our public spaces, and it is precisely because they are collectively owned that we have an expectation that they will be free, open and available when we need them, whoever “we” might be. Public space is a right, not a privilege.
In 2011, the consequences of privatising public land came into sharp focus when Occupy protesters we forced out of Paternoster Square by a court order that revealed that the space was owned by the Mitsubishi Estate Company. It seemed, at the time, too dystopian to be true, that the rules imposed by a corporation could supersede the law of the land.
Soon after, we began hearing about confrontations in other pseudo-public spaces, such as on the land of More London, where City Hall is a public island in a sea of privatised open air space owned by Kuwaiti land barons. It transpires that for the past few decades almost every major redevelopment in London has resulted in the privatisation of public space, including areas around the Olympic Stadium, King’s Cross and Nine Elms.
Local councils, straining under austerity measures and desperate to cut maintenance budgets and to release themselves from liability, are not only complicit in the process but refused to provide useful information in response to Freedom of Information (FOI) requests from the Guardian, stating they either did not have the resources to respond or that they did not hold the data.
Consider for a moment what it means to live in a city where the government does not hold information about where public spaces are, nor any records about when or why they have been sold to private developers.
Given the controversy surrounding the £37.7 million of public money spent on the cancelled Garden Bridge (another pseudo-public space), should the National Audit Office not expand their investigation to ascertain who exactly is behind the enthusiastic sale our public land? Given that last year the government tried (not for the first time) to privatise the Land Registry itself, where this information is held, we are past due in breaking out the tinfoil hats.
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