Simon Jenkins writes:
Now we know.
The glitzy 50-storey tower that looms over London’s Vauxhall and
Pimlico is, as the Guardian revealed yesterday, just a stack of bank deposits.
Once dubbed Prescott Tower, after the minister who approved it against all
advice, it is virtually empty.
At night, vulgar lighting more suited to a casino cannot
conceal the fact that its interior is dark, owned by absent Russians, Nigerians
and Chinese.
It makes no more contribution to London than a gold bar in a bank vault, but
is far more prominent, a great smudge of tainted wealth on the city’s horizon.
In 2003 London’s first elected
mayor, Ken Livingstone, was dazzled by a dinner invitation to the Villa Katoushka outside Cannes.
His hosts were the
titans of London’s property world and he was reportedly soon in thrall to them.
He said he would offer them “the potential to make very good profits” in his new London. He especially
wanted tall buildings; the taller the better.
The developer Gerald Ronson lauded him for his remarkable
“vision”. Tony Pidgley of Berkeley Homes called him “refreshing”.
The mayor was as good as his
word.
He backed Ronson’s monster Heron Tower in
the City. He backed Prescott’s Vauxhall tower. He backed the Bermondsey Shard.
He even spent taxpayers’
money on lawyers to support developers at public inquiries.
At the time the Tory leader of Wandsworth, Eddie Lister,
assailed Livingstone’s obsession with towers as a “one-man dictatorship”.
David
Cameron’s then cities spokesman, John Gummer, compared Livingstone to
Mussolini, and spoke of the towers as “the vulgarity of bigness”.
Yet when Cameron came to power,
this was all forgotten.
In London, property is the most potent lobby. The Tory
mayor, Boris Johnson, increased Livingstone’s rate of
tower approvals, while Lister gratefully took office as his tall-buildings champion.
There was no published plan for the drastic surgery being
inflicted on London’s appearance. No limit was set to the towers’ location or
height.
No one took care of their appearance or bulk, their civic significance
or their role in the life of the capital.
Some 80% of the approvals were for
luxury flats, chiefly marketed as speculations in east Asia.
Such has been the
rate of unrestricted growth, there seems no reason to doubt the dystopian
vision of London’s future depicted in the last Star Trek movie.
Johnson’s current legacy to
London is 54,000 luxury flats priced at over £1m, about
to hit a market that even before the present downturn needed just 4,000 a year.
This bubble simply has to burst. The waste of building resources, energy and
space, the sheer market-wrecking bad planning, beggars belief.
Towers have a perfectly reputable
place in the history of cities.
By their nature they dominate. They mark
victories and royal palaces; they signify civic centres and clustered
downtowns.
The tallest towers, in the United Arab Emirates, Malaysia, Singapore
and China, reflect the priapic obsessions of dictators and the celebrity
cravings of banana republics.
Civilised cities such as Paris,
Rome, Amsterdam – even New York, Boston and San Francisco – either ban new
towers from historic areas or zone them into clusters.
Above all they show some
consideration for the aesthetics of place.
No such considerations
applied to the Vauxhall tower.
Some people like towers, though few want them
everywhere.
Architects love them as “icons”, as bankers love money.
Some cities desperate for space,
such as Hong Kong and Shanghai, build high to cram in the poor, often in dire
conditions.
Studies from Jane Jacobs to Lynsey Hanley catalogue the impact of high living on
family life and community cohesion.
In London, as the Guardian shows,
these buildings have nothing to do with housing supply, let alone low-cost
supply.
Their front doors are manned not by concierges, but by security guards,
like banks.
They are the product of speculative flows of often “dodgy” cash,
seeking an unregulated property market that asks no questions and seeks a quick
profit.
That is all.
Most cities, ironically including
Hong Kong and Singapore, in some way restrict foreign or non-resident
acquisition of property, as do most New York condominiums.
In London gullible
politicians and venal architects have conspired to suborn a great city, simply
because towers seemed vaguely macho and money smells sweet.
Nor do towers have to do with
population density.
The idea that modern cities must “go high” as part of the
densification cause is rubbish. External landscaping and internal servicing
makes them costly and inefficient.
The densest parts of London are the crowded
and desirable low-rise terraces of Victorian Islington, Camden and Kensington.
The recently proposed Paddington Pole, the height of the Shard, had
just 330 flats on 72 storeys. Adjacent, Victorian Bayswater could supply 400 on
the same plot.
London has seen nothing yet. A
row of giant blocks is about to rise around the Shell Centre behind the National Theatre.
The
50-storey cucumber-shaped One Blackfriars is emerging on the bank of the Thames
opposite the Embankment. It will intrude on views of the City far more than
does the Shard.
The line of the Thames will be marked by a series of
jagged broken teeth. Prescott’s tower at Vauxhall is to be joined by two more
apartment stacks next door, one even higher.
Next to Battersea power station
is a crowded over-development on an almost Hong Kong scale, named Malaysia Square and aimed at the Asian super-rich.
Johnson helped sell it in 2014 by actually unveiling the development not in
London but in Kuala Lumpur. It will probably go bust and end up as slums.
At
least the poor may one day live there.
Livingstone and Johnson promoted
these towers not because they cared where ordinary Londoners would live, or
because they had a coherent vision of how a historic city should look in the
21st century.
They knew they were planning “dead” speculations, because plenty
of people told them so. They went ahead because powerful men with money and a
gift for flattery just asked.
It was very British sort of corruption.
The appearance of these
structures on the London horizon must rank as the saddest episode in the city’s
recent history.
We must live with them forever.
But we shall not forget their
facilitators.
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