Neighbourhoods

Compound interest

Here's a lesson in grassroots democracy, from Libya. The BBC have a short report from Gabriel Gatehouse on a local democratic initiative emerging from the ruins of Colonel Gaddafi's former compound in Tripoli.

After Gaddafi's cronies fled, apparently some 68 families moved in to the various buildings, some of which are extensive villas, some 'little more than concrete bunkers'. There is public discussion about turning the compound into a large park, but the squatters have organised themselves already, formed a residents' assocation, sent a petition to the national transitional council, and begun the process of negotiating another solution.

 

Local democratic participation and parking

I sometimes wonder whether, in late medieval cities, there were disputes about where people left their carts. Car parking is a major issue in contemporary neighbourhoods, and inconsiderate parking infuriates people. Maybe some kinds of personality just get sparked by the very idea of public space, and always have done.

I’m not known for defending car drivers, but when you have situations where residents cannot get their own cars out of their driveways because others have left their vehicles in the way for long periods of time, you have to ask whether there’s a problem understanding that others have a right of access to public space.

A week ago I designed and ran a consultative process for a public meeting about car parking, in a large village on the outskirts of Sheffield. The material I had to work with included a lot of written remarks in open questions from an online survey, many of which suggested solutions and many of which consisted of repeated annoyance at inconsiderate drivers.

The process I came up with may have helped move things on. One reason is that most participants apparently were expecting a conventional public meeting in which councillors said something from the front, were shouted at by a few worked-up voices from the rows, and nothing much changed as a consequence. There were no rows (in either pronunciation) – the chairs were set around tables, people had the chance to shape their own agenda (and therefore found it hard to complain if the meeting did not discuss what they wanted discussed); they had the opportunity to augment and comment, in groups, on every live proposition as it was passed round, using pre-formatted sheets which included a street map; and they had the chance to vote, at the end, on preferred options to address the parking problem. There was no disruption. It was local participative democracy in action.

What was striking for me was the genuine sense of novelty among the participants, which I’m still absorbing. The sceptical might argue that just because some southerner comes in with an arty-farty creative approach, it doesn’t mean anything will change as a consequence. That remains to be seen. But I sensed from various comments afterwards that some people were grateful for a completely fresh experience of genuinely participative local democracy, which was, well, revelatory to them. That’s change, in itself.

The car resembles the traditional meeting as symbolic of communication confusion: it helps us to share some information (like status, power or detachment); in a car you can say ‘we’ve been through’ somewhere much as the conventional meeting ‘goes through’ an agenda. And cars really mess up interaction, and all the unseen benefits that go with interaction.

 

A socio-economic indicator for our times?

It's January, I’ve been working on my tax return and the last two bits of data I had to find were (i) bank and building society interest; and (ii) charitable donations. At first I thought, wouldn’t it be symbolic if the latter turned out higher than the former, times being what they are? Then I thought, might we have here an interesting indicator?

As the data are officially collected it should be possible to compute an accurate average ratio (whatever it might be - any guesses?) expecting the interest earned to be higher than the formal recorded giving. And have a debate about what might be the optimum ratio, given other economic conditions.

Our government wants both, I assume, but I don't think they'd want to see a negative ratio. I know claimed tax relief is only a partial indicator of what is given, but the charitable sector could come up with a formula to account for unrecorded giving as well…

(And yes, it turned out that for tax year 2010-11 I had a negative ratio. I guess I'm just a spoiler).

Having to use the state

“The only time that I use the state,” one financier worth an estimated £500 million confided in me recently, “is when my driver drives on public roads from the City to my country estate. I don’t like it, but I can’t help it.”

(From an article on The rise of the overclass by Peter Oborne in the Telegraph this evening).

Yup, we're all sighing commiserations, it must be tough. But it may be worth pointing out that this financier is deluding himself or herself, quite why is not clear.

The country estate or the offices he or she uses for meetings, for instance, are likely to make use of electricity provided by companies that are regulated by the state. The financier possibly occasionally consumes food or drink that has been contaminated by publicly-regulated water. (Or uses a lavatory ditto).

The education of others who the financier has to deal with, will in many cases have been provided by the state, which is usually an advantage, I suggest. Also their health: the financier presumably benefits from dealing with and perhaps employing healthy, educated people. It probably also helps if they have decent housing, whether or not the financier cares about that.

Then there's the existence of a wider managed economy (ah, ok maybe not). Or the existence of a police force maintaining order, which might just have helped the financier indirectly to make his or her millions. Then there's the publicly funded research which invents, develops and refines materials, technologies, substances, goods and services. And a legal system to ensure that he or she can seek justice if wronged (no further questions, your honour). And so on.

This person thinks the state is an irrelevance to them whereas of course they simply can’t move, or make a profit, without it.

The more I see of it, the harder I find it to overlook the persistent connection between wealth, arrogance and rank stupidity.

 

Parkinson’s Neighbours’ Law

Parkinson’s Wife’s Law – work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion, and he still hasn’t done what I wanted.

Parkinson’s Neighbours’ Law – work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion, and then they have an almighty row about it.

 

Christenings and funerals

Striking story from Steph Jennings on Podnosh about Mosies, a resident of Handsworth in Birmingham, who is working with a group to help influence people who are stuck with the perception that joining a gang is their only option.

'The girls have babies and the boys shoot and stab each other. I’ve lost count of the amount of christenings and funerals I’ve been to but I’ve never been to a wedding that’s just not what we do.'

And Steph is right in observing that you're unlikely to get this kind of story or insight from the prescribed training session format. Semi-formal community-based occasions, like the social media surgeries Podnosh are involved in, are more likely to nurture the sense of camaraderie and ownership that stimulates a shared determination to bring about change.

 

 

Occupy London wish list

I just caught up with this pic by Alan Stanton of the Occupy London wish list. Also needed, I suggest, is a web cam focussed on this board, then we could all keep an eye on it.

 

 

Neighbouring, older people and those who live alone: statistically they don’t stand out

Thank you to ICM Research, who have published questions and data from a recent survey of neighbouring and concerns about winter (the Home Alone survey), carried out for AA Home Emergency Response. In spite of attempts in the press release to put an alarmist spin on the findings, I think they’re largely reassuring.

The claim is made that

‘Overall more than one in eight people (13%) say they don't know any of their neighbours.’

Among those who live alone, the figure rises unsurprisingly, but only to 16 per cent. For those who live with friends, it’s a whopping 30 per cent, but this goes unremarked. It may be worth pointing out that quite a lot of people prefer to have nothing to do with their neighbours; and quite a lot of people will have been in their current place of residence for only a short time (length of residence is not included as a variable).

What the data show is a little more nuanced than the quote above, with a decent attempt to get beyond the blurring caused by the word ‘know’. The results include the following questions and overall percentages:

I would recognise my neighbours but I don't know them to speak to: 7%

I wouldn't recognise most of my neighbours: 5%

I wouldn't recognise any of my neighbours: 1%

I think I preferred the question that was used in the 2008 Full of Life survey, which asked people to indicate if they knew their neighbours well enough to say 'hello'. (With the change of government, the Full of Life study has now disappeared from the DWP website, but at the time I noted that 93 per cent said that they did).

The Home Alone survey shows very little variation between social grades. There’s a remarkable consistency in these two sets of responses, for instance:

	All	AB	C1	C2	DE
I know most of my neighbours	38%	38%	39%	38%	37%
I wouldn't recognise any of my neighbours	5%	4%	6%	5%	4%

The 2010 YouGov survey for the Co-Op used two social grade categories (ABC1 and C2DE) and similarly showed negligible difference in responses to the question ‘Approximately how many of your current neighbours would you say you know by name?’

The Home Alone survey was designed to probe for the need for help or support ‘if you had a problem at home’. According to the results, older people are as likely as the rest of us to know someone within range and certainly on their street, who they can call for help. Overall, 51 per cent of respondents said the nearest was within a quarter of a mile (14 per cent said ‘on my street’); 59 per cent of the over-65s claimed this, with 17 per cent saying ‘on my street’. Again, that's reassuring.

The question is slightly spoiled by the wording, which refers to ‘the nearest friend or family member’: it would have helped to be clear as to whether or not neighbours are assumed to be included, since on the whole they are neither friend nor kin.

But it’s still an interesting question with some unexpected results. For instance, among those who say they ‘know all’ their neighbours, almost a quarter (24 per cent) would go beyond a quarter of a mile to get help if they had a problem at home; and 37 per cent of those who say they ‘know most’ of their neighbours would do so. That’s quite a lot of people who we’d expect to be on good terms with their neighbours but who would go beyond the immediate neighbourhood in case of need.

Previously:

Five per cent have no contact with neighbours

Older and young people relate differently to neighbours: shock news

OK, how well do you know your 'immediate' neighbours?

Shock news: neighbourliness might or might not be in decline

Six per cent would prefer no contact with neighbours

 

Pavements, litter and decoration

Pavements (sidewalks to some) are littered more easily than they can be inscribed, but the former can provoke the latter.

Be warned: using chalk to broadcast a message may seem harmless, but previous posts on this blog (see links below) have shown this not to be the case. Some people may more readily take offence at pavement chalking than dog mess or random chewing gum.

The image below is of artist Ben Wilson who paints on pieces of discarded gum. Apparently he was arrested, something British cops like to do if someone seems a bit strange to them. BBC video here.

 

 

 

 

Previously:

Pavement chalking: this time seen in a positive light

'If it can be washed away, it's not graffiti. But'

Pavement chalking epidemic?

Footnote on pavement chalking

Floor targets

Neighbourliness and the natural disaster effect

Here’s an article by Queensland sociologist Lynda Cheshire, reflecting on the contrast between neighbourly behaviour during the floods in that state last year, and a reported ‘rise in neighbourly tensions’ that apparently characterises contemporary Australian life. Why are neighbours still there when needed, she asks, 'even if their noise, smells and habits are cause for complaint the rest of the time?'

Cheshire notes that the contrast might partly be explained by an increased ability to avoid confrontation by referring difficulties to official intermediaries (like this example I blogged not long ago) and points out that this is ‘a costly habit’:

‘There is a possibility that the wave of goodwill exhibited during the floods will minimise neighbourly conflicts, or at least reduce registered complaints. But it may also create new sets of expectations about neighbours and new forms of conflict if these normative codes are breached.’

I’m reminded that some months ago I wrote about the way supportive neighbourly responses in time of large-scale disasters throw up somewhat nostalgic reflections about how our societies have 'lost' the values that are warmly evidenced in time of adversity. Cheshire’s article does not come into that category, although she does appear at least in this case to reproduce uncritically the received narrative of decline. I'd like to know more about whether neighbourliness in Australia really has declined and in what ways, and how that compares with the UK where similar claims are so often made.

 

Foretelling the crash

It’s nearly ten years since the death of Ivan Illich. A few years ago I found his work was out of print, which maybe helps to explain how come we’re in such a mess. We need to make more of his wisdom.

Looking for something else the other day, I found myself re-reading sections of Tools for conviviality. I'm sure I'm not the first to point this out, but this bit strikes me as grimly prophetic:

Almost overnight people will lose confidence not only in the major institutions but also in the miracle of prescriptions of the would-be crisis managers. The ability of the present institutions to define values such as education, health, welfare, transportation, or news will suddenly be extinguished because it will be recognized as an illusion.

This crisis may be triggered by an unforeseen event, as the Great Depression was touched off by the Wall Street Crash. Some fortuitous coincidence will render publicly obvious the structural contradictions between stated purposes and effective results in our major institutions...

People who invoke the spectre of a hopelessly growth-oriented majority seem incapable of envisaging political behaviour in a crash. Business ceases to be as usual when the populace loses confidence in industrial productivity, and not just in paper currency…

Governments think they can deal with the breakdown of utilities, the disruption of the educational system, intolerable transportation, the chaos of the judicial process, the violent disaffection of the young. Each is dealt with as a separate phenomenon, each is explained by a different report…

Tools for conviviality, 1973, chapter 5.