wates-wolmar-squatting-real-story

Squatters are usually portrayed as worthless scroungershell-bent on disrupting society. Here at last is the insidestory of the 250,000 people from all walks of life whohave squatted in Britain over the past 12 years.The country is riddled with empty houses and there arethousands of homeless people. When squatters logically putthe two together the result can be electrifying, amazingand occasionally disastrous.SQUATTING the real story is a unique and diverse accountof squatting. Written and produced by squatters, it covers allaspects of the subject:• The history of squatting• Famous squats• The politics of squatting• Squatting as a cultural challenge• The facts behind the myths• Squatting around the worldand much, much more.the real storyContains over 500 photographs plus illustrations, cartoons,poems, songs and 4 pages of posters and murals in colour.Squatting: a revolutionary force or just a bunch of hooligansdoing their own thing? Read this book for the real story.iPaperback £4.90 ISBN 0 9507259 1 9Hardback £11.50 ISBN 0 9507259 0 0

Adam Harvey 1979Illustrated London News 1946 Mike Wigg 1979 Aden Kelly 1973Introducing squatting by Nick Wates Chapter 1Ray Morris 1979Radio Times Hulton 1946Mike Wigg 1979Lawrence Feuchtwanger 1975 Tony Sleep 1979Since 1968, over a quarter of a million people inBritain have walked into an uninhabited houseowned by someone else and proceeded to set uphome, without seeking permission and withoutpaying rent. By doing so, they have becomesquatters. Some have been thrown out withinhours. Others have stayed for months, even years,before being evicted by bailiffs or leaving underthreat of a court order. A few have managed toestablish permanent homes.Most squatting has occurred in old flats andhouses in the larger towns and cities, but everyconceivable type of empty property has beensquatted — from luxury flats to dilapidatedslums, from country cottages to suburban semis,from old churches to disused factories.Squatting is an ancient practice, and has occurredat some stage, in different forms, throughoutthe world. Yet the last 12 years in Britain hasseen a spectacular rise in the number of peoplewho have taken over empty buildings. No longerdoes “squatting” describe the isolated actions ofnumerous individuals. Instead, it has become asocial movement of great significance, whoseimpact upon housing policy has already beenconsiderable, but whose potential has yet, perhaps,to be fully realised.The causesA lack of adequate housing, combined with theexistence of empty property, is the essentialcondition for squatting. The housing shortagehas become a permanent and chronic feature ofBritish society, and there is every sign that it isgetting rapidly worse. A home is one of the mostimportant elements in our lives. Bad housing canruin both physical and mental health, can placeunbearable strains on personal relationships,and can disrupt people’s ability to work and toearn a living. Yet millions of people in thiscountry are still badly housed or, worse, havenowhere they can really call home.There will always be times when property hasto be empty for short periods; when, for example,it is being repaired, or when people move house.But a tragic feature of modern Britain is the vastamount of perfectly habitable property that isneedlessly left unused – much of it for longperiods of time.This glaring contradiction betweenwidespread homelessness and abundant emptyproperty is the basis of squatting. But the link isnot direct, and other factors intervene todetermine the scale and nature of the squattingmovement. On the one hand, it will depend uponthe extent to which property owners and thestate are prepared to use the police, the courts,and straightforward harassment, to defendestablished property rights. On the other hand,the success of squatting depends upon the abilityof squatters and other homeless people toorganise effectively and to obtain support fromother sections of the community.The current phase of squatting, which beganin 1968, is part of a much wider flourishing ofcommunity-based social and political action, firedby the failure of established political channelsand organisations to express the needs of peopleat a local level. Nowhere has this failure beenmore apparent than in the field of housing.Despite endless election promises, no politicalparty has succeeded in ending homelessness, orin reducing the amount of empty property. Thedisillusion that this failure has produced hasprompted thousands of people to take the onlycourse left open to them – to take direct action inpursuit of the housing they need.The achievements of squattingThousands housedThe most obvious achievement of squatting isthe housing of thousands of people who wouldotherwise have been homeless. Tens of thousandsmore, living in overcrowded or slum conditionshave obtained better housing. With between30,000 and 50,000 people squatting at any onetime, the amount of housing brought into use isequivalent to a town the size of Folkestone.Focus for organisationSquatting has provided the homeless and thebadly housed with an effective means of pressurisingthe authorities to improve their livingconditions. There are no housing ‘trade unions’through which the less privileged can effectivelyfight for their interests. The homeless cannot goon strike, and they have only rarely receivedadequate support from tenants’ and residents’associations. In the absence of alternative ways ofmaking their voices heard, squatting provides thehomeless with a means of taking the initiative andwith a focus around which to organise politically.Pressure on governmentSquatting has won some concessions from theauthorities. Occasionally, specific campaigns haveforced councils to house people they had previouslyrefused to help, and to use property which wouldotherwise have remained empty. Generally,however, the impact of squatting has been lessapparent, but both the threat and reality ofsquatting have led to a number of reforms. 1• Councils and other property owners have beenprompted to make better use of their emptyproperty by improving their efficiency or byhanding houses over to organisations capable ofusing them. 2 Thousands of people have beenhoused by councils ‘licensing’ empty short lifeproperties to recognised groups of homelesspeople. These schemes were introduced only aftermilitant squatting campaigns.• On several occasions, squatting campaignshave provided the impetus for councils to buyempty property from private owners, both byvoluntary agreement and by compulsory purchase.• Squatting has led many councils to re-examinetheir housing provision, and to press thegovernment for more resources. For instance,many schemes have been established specificallyfor single people whose housing needs have beenpersistently ignored.• Central government has been nudged into sendingcirculars to councils urging them to make betteruse of their empty property, and while councilshave mostly ignored the circulars, thousands of1

empty properties have been brought into use.• It was in response to squatting that a PrivateMembers’ Bill was tabled in Parliament in 1976 toallow the requisitioning of private property leftempty for more than six months. Although theproposal was defeated, the Labour Governmentembarked on a policy of encouraging councils topurchase property which had been neglected orleft empty by its owners. 3 (In the event the policywas short-lived due to public expenditure cuts.)• Pressure from squatting also helped to put theHousing (Homeless Persons) Act on the Statutebook in 1977. The Act places a legal obligation oncouncils to house certain groups of people, suchas families and the elderly.• Squatting was partly responsible for therenewed enthusiasm, particularly by the 1974Labour Government, for housing co-operatives.Squatters have been in the forefront of the recentmovement for co-operative housing, with at least50 groups of squatters forming themselves intopermanent co-operatives. 4Challenging the plannersThe impact of squatting has not been limited tothe field of housing. Planners, too, have beenobliged to take account of squatters’ demands.Squatting has proved an effective way to challengeproperty speculation, bureaucratic incompetence,public spending cuts and planning megalomania.By moving into areas scheduled for demolition,squatters have frequently brought new life andheart to declining and demoralised communities,enabling them effectively to oppose councils anddevelopers. And, by their willingness to defendpotentially usable buildings from behindbarricades, squatters have been able to force ownersto alter demolition plans or face the possibility ofviolent confrontation and consequent bad publicity.PublicitySquatting has, on occasion, proved extremelyeffective simply as a means of publicising theissues surrounding empty property and homelessness.If carefully planned and organised, theoccupation of an empty building, even for a fewhours, can gain wide and useful publicity.Choosing how to liveSome people have found that, as well asproviding a roof over their head, squatting isable to satisfy their needs for self-determination,independence, experimentation and creativity.Squatters are not plagued with landlords, councilhousing officers, planners or mortgage companiesbreathing down their necks, and many peoplehave taken advantage of this to experiment withalternative ways of living.Many squatters live communally, sharing thefacilities that are available to them. This is oftenforced upon them by circumstance, but after awhile many people have found that they enjoythe absence of the traditional, tightly-knit familygroup. Apart from the economic benefits ofsharing accommodation, communal livingprovides companionship and support.Single people, couples, families, gays, old people— all have shared together in squats. Few of themwould have had the chance to live this way were itnot for squatting. Little shared accommodation isprovided by councils, housing associations or theprivate sector, and that which is available toooften fails because of rigid and centralised managementsystems. Shared living in squats, on theother hand, has often proved more successfulbecause of the combination of self-management,self-selection and the freedom of the inhabitantsto physically adapt buildings.Base for projectsPeople have used the free space provided bysquatted buildings to develop a variety of projectswhich could not have supported market rents.Radical magazines, political organisations, andwomen’s centres have all found a base in squats,and squatting has provided a seed-bed for smallenterprises such as craft workshops, print shopsand bakeries. Vacant land has been squatted tocreate city farms and gardens; a whole host of sociallyuseful, but commercially unviable, enterpriseshave flourished as a result of squatting.Freedom to buildSquatters have to do their own repairs and maintenance.Virtually derelict buildings have beenrenovated by people with no previous experienceand few resources. Learning basic building skillshas enabled people to go beyond choosingwallpaper and making curtains in creating theirhomes. Despite the insecurity, some squattershave undertaken imaginative low-cost conversionsto adapt buildings to their needs, a form of ‘usercontrol’that is normally only available to wealthyowner occupiers.Cohesive communitiesWhere considerable amounts of property are leftempty in the same area, squatting communitieshave sometimes developed. Racial and otherminorities have chosen to live together in orderto maintain cultural traditions, and sometimes todefend themselves against racial attacks. Otherareas have attracted people who wish to experimentwith new forms of community life. Some suchcommunities have been chaotic and oppressive,and have failed to cope with the problems ofanti-social behaviour. Others, held together by acommon struggle against the property ownershave created co-operative environments withrare quakes of cohesion and enthusiasm.Different forms of community ‘self control’ haveevolved, and a variety of alternative ‘welfareservices’ have been spawned: crèches, food co-ops,community workshops, claimants unions, therapygroups. Such communities have often providedsupportive environments for people with physicalor mental disabilities, or people who simply feelinadequate, many of whom might otherwise havefound themselves in institutions.Control from belowSo as well as spotlighting the shortage of housing,Squatting challenges the nature of what housingis available and shows that there are alternatives.In particular it demonstrates the desperate needfor more devolution of power at every level in thehousing system. The difference between how peoplelive when they have a measure of choice and howthey are forced to live when everything is administeredfrom above is astonishing; squatting clearlyshows that people’s satisfaction with their environmenthas as much to do with their control over thatenvironment as with the rigid physical standardsthat administrators seek to impose. Some squattershave been demanding not simply that the stateshould provide housing but that the state shouldprovide the resources for people to house themselves.The experience of collective action, mutual aid,campaigning, repairing houses and communalliving has had a lasting effect on many people.While some remember their days as squatters as anightmare of discomfort, insecurity and fear, manyothers recall the excitement, humour, sense ofliberation and the comradeship of squatting. Somehave become politically active, some have changedtheir lifestyle, and some have gained the ability totackle problems which previously seemed insoluble.Squatting attackedOf course, squatting has not been viewed in thispositive light by those in power. Instead it hasbeen seen as a threat to ‘law and order’ and thedemocratic process, and above all to the sacredrights of private property.Ironically, isolated squatters do not in practicepose a serious threat to private property rights,since they can easily be evicted through thecourts. But as a movement, squatting subvertsthe authority of owners and administrators, andthere is always the possibility of the movementescalating, and even extending the principles ofdirect action into other fields.Squatting has therefore been attacked frommany sides.• Private property owners have consistentlylobbied for tougher measures against squatters,and they have enjoyed the almost unanimousbacking of the media. At times, it is true, thespread of squatting has been accelerated bypublicity, and certain campaigns have benefitedimmensely from sympathetic coverage. But thepolitical stance of newspaper owners, combinedwith the commercial need for sensation, has ledthe media largely to ignore the causes and thebenefits of squatting. Instead, squatters havebeen attacked at times with almost religiousfervour. They have been accused of everyconceivable evil, from having lice to beingworkshy. Lies, deceit, half-truths, fabrications,even infiltration with journalists posing ashomeless people — every trick in the armoury ofthe popular press has been brought to bearagainst the hapless squatter. A popularmythology has thus been created that allsquatters are parasitic deviants who stealpeople’s houses and constitute a threat toeverything decent in society. Surveys5 haveconsistently shown that these images are totallyfalse, but they are sufficiently widely accepted toencourage much hostility towards squatters.• Public authorities and politicians of all majorpolitical parties have always attacked squatting,seeing it as a ‘problem’ to be stamped out, ratherthan as a symptom of the housing crisis. Whilesometimes tolerating it for pragmatic reasons,councils have consistently tried to discouragesquatting. Houses have been boarded up, guttedor even demolished to prevent people usingthem. Service authorities have been instructed,to disconnect gas, water and electricity fromsquatted houses. Publicity campaigns have beenwaged to discredit squatters, with accusationsthat they jump waiting lists, smash up houses,hold up development programmes and costcouncils money. Once again, surveys have shownthe reality to be completely different but theaccusations have served as a convenientsmokescreen to hide some of the failings ofcouncils’ housing programmes. Many councilsevict squatters long before buildings are needed,on occasion using hired thugs to carry out theirwork illegally. Little attempt has been made tounderstand the positive aspects of squatting, andcouncils’ responses have been almost totallynegative.• Successive governments have advised councilson how best to ‘contain’ squatting and haveintroduced anti-squatting legislation. Legalrestraints have been progressively strengthened,culminating in 1977 with the Criminal Law Actwhich, while not making squatting illegal, doesmake it slightly more difficult.The need for organisationCommon needs and common enemies mean thatsquatters have to organise themselves and gainsupport from others if they want to do more thanobtain temporary crash-pads.The vast majority of squatters do not see theiractions in political terms, their sole aim being toprovide themselves with somewhere to live. Theyoften have no contact with other squatters, hidetheir status for fear of hostile reactions fromneighbours, and are usually evicted after a shortstay only to squat somewhere else. But somesquatters have organised themselves, and at alocal level have often been extremely successfulin protecting their interests.On a wider level, the movement has beenpolitically fragmented. Libertarians, anarchists,marxists, liberals, trotskyists, socialists,communists, social democrats andconservationists — including prominentmembers of the Labour, Liberal and (on oneoccasion) Conservative parties — have all takenup squatting.6 Each has seen it as a tool forchange, but change in very different directions.Despite this broad spectrum of support, nopolitical party has taken a consistent interest insquatting. Even those on the left have largelyignored it. The explanation lies in the rapidlychanging and volatile nature of squatting, whichmakes it difficult to organise. While politicalgroups may plan specific actions to achievespecific goals, they can never control squatting ingeneral. There will always be people who willsquat in a different way, using different tactics toachieve different ends.At the same time, the actions of one group ofsquatters inevitably affects the prospects ofothers. Much squatting has been undertaken byindividuals acting in isolation. But this has onlybeen possible because of the collective strength ofthe movement as a whole, which has establishedthe legal and political framework within whichsquatting, in all its variety of forms, hasdeveloped.Both the uncontrollable diversity and theinterdependence of squatting must be understoodif some of the mistakes and confusions of thepast are to be avoided in the future.Future prospectsThe present Tory government intends to cuthousing expenditure by half between 1980 and1984, and has no plans to curb the amount ofproperty left empty. So an increasing number ofpeople will have no better option than to squatempty property to get a home. Indeed, after adecline in squatting at the end of the seventiesdue to the concessions granted to squatters and touncertainty about the Criminal Law Act, by 1980squatting was already on the increase again.But as this book goes to press (Autumn 1980)the organisational level of the squattingmovement has reached a low ebb. If the newwave of squatting is to be more than simply themultiplication of isolated occupations, thensquatters must reorganise: they must learn fromthe experience of the past, and must developmeans to provide collectively the legal, financialand other essential back-up services.Equally important will be the ability of squattersto obtain wider support for their actions; fromtenants and residents associations, communitygroups, trade unions, political parties and thegeneral public. If the experience, energy and creativityof the squatting movement can be linked upwith the strength of all the millions of otherswho need to see housing put back at the top ofthe political agenda, then ‘decent housing for all’might come a little nearer to being a reality.Next time you pass a boarded up house, thinkabout it. •2 3

The SquattersChapter2Shelter Picture Library 1974Who are the squatters? Why do people squat? The quotes1 on the following pages provide someanswers. They are all from squatters or people intending to squat. The photographs are all ofsquatters. (More details and statistics on squatters can be found on page 230.)‘I am a squatter. [The house] had been empty a long time, and I had nowhere to go. Now it seems thata person wants to purchase it for a holiday home and of course they keep pestering me to get out, butI have nowhere to go. I have tried everywhere to find accommodation without success.’(Fakenham, Norfolk, September 1976)‘I was in a flat and it was unbearable and I applied for a transfer. Every time I went out I washaving windows broken and my meter robbed. I asked the council if I could have the house next doorto my mother in Hyde. Even my MP requested a transfer for me and they had a medical certificatefrom my doctor as I was under severe nervous strain. But they said I would have to stay there foranother four years. I could not anyway stay there any longer. My children and myself were justvictimised beyond endurance so I have squatted.’(Hyde, Cheshire, November 1977)Adam Harvey 1978‘At the moment we live in a one room flatlet. We are my husband, myself and daughter (3 months old).We have been given notice to quit and can’t just sit back and let it happen. I must do something. Wehave tried all sorts of rented accommodation, but with a child nobody wants to know. Even when wego down to the council, all they say is they can’t do anything until we are evicted. Somehow I don’tthink I could face that.’(Bournemouth Dorset, August 1975)‘I have been on Manchester Council’s housing list for 12 months awaiting one bedroomaccommodation. I live with my aunt and my 69 year old grandmother who I have to share a bedroomwith. My gran is bedridden with chronic bronchitis and emphysema. My aunt and I do not get on anddue to this I have been in hospital twice with overdoses. My aunt has given me notice to quit but Ihave nowhere to go so I have thought of squatting.’(Manchester, April 1977)‘Landlords don’t like seamen. Squatting’s the only possible thing for a seaman. You don’t want to payrent when you’re away eight or ten months of the year. I don’t earn enough to be able to afford bedand-breakfastor hostels and in the seamen’s mission you can’t bring your girl friend in. There’s nofreedom. I like squatting as well. If makes me feel a lot freer. It s the same as having a place of yourown.’(London, 1975)‘We applied for a council house in July 1974 when we were in apartments with a young man and hiswife and child. Then while my wife was in hospital having our baby, I went to court for a minoroffence and was given a six month prison sentence. The couple we were living with then told my wifewe could no longer live there. My mother-in-law took my wife and baby in but they were back and4Topix 1977

Daily TelegraphTime Out 1973Raissa Page 1978forward to the welfare for help to find accommodation as they knew they had no room to put the threeof us up when I came home. I also had prison welfare people trying to help, pleading with the council,but we had no satisfaction.‘When I was discharged in April my wife’s friend and her husband said we could stay there for a fewweeks until we could find somewhere else. Then the council said that they didn’t allow sub-tenantsand if we didn’t get out then they would evict the others. We then bought a caravan and from May upuntil a few weeks ago we lived in there. We had it parked on a piece of spare council land with agarage a few hundred yards down the road where we got our water and used their toilet facilities.Then the other week the council started harassing us saying they wanted the ground to build on. Theythen issued us with a letter to quit the site in seven days and they also said not to put the caravan onany other council property. All the caravan parks are full and have waiting lists of up to three years.So we had nowhere to go – so we moved out of the caravan into this house [a squat].’(Blackwood, Gwent, Wales, November 1975)‘What is the law concerning 15 year old squatters who don’t get on with their parents very well, sothey can’t live at home? You see, I don’t think I can stand being at home much longer. PS Don’t writeor phone my parents.’(Petersfield, Hampshire, March 1976)‘The council said we’d have to wait eight or nine years, so we put our names on the New Towns listinstead. If they ask us to go to halfway accommodation we won’t go. My husband was in that when hewas young and caught diseases and really hated it.’(London, 1975)‘I have taken the course to squat as I have no other alternative; as we are living in appallingconditions, and it is taking it’s toll on my wife and small son. I am frightened of losing them.’(Watford, Hertfordshire, January 1976)I am in hospital at the moment due to having nowhere else to go. It has nearly given me a nervousbreakdown. I am 28 years of age and have just come out of prison after serving one year of mysentence but since coming out I can find no flat. I intend to squat in the near future.’(Sefton General Hospital, Liverpool, April 1976)‘The council gave me a letter to take to a hotel in Muswell Hill. They showed me a single room andsaid there were no facilities for children. They told us we would have to be out for four or five hourseach day. I said to Brian it would just be awful. We moved into a squat instead.’(London, 1975)I leave jail [soon] and am homeless. I have a council owned place in mind [to squat] but wish to keepwithin the law as I have been in prison for two years. Any short stay place would be beyond mymeans as I will only have a jail discharge grant.’(Her Majesty’s Prison, Wotton-under-edge, Gloucester, March 1979)I moved to Hebden Bridge in December 1972 having then been homeless for 2 months after [the]previous landlord had evicted us — myself and 5-year-old son — in order to sell the house in whichwe had lived for 4 years, to be converted into offices. Travelling around looking for a home we passedthrough Hebden Bridge, liked it, found a house and lived here through 1973.‘Then we reluctantly moved away to find work and rented a farmhouse in a small Norfolk village.The landlord got planning permission to demolish the house and build 6 bungalows on the land. Ithen went to the West Norfolk Housing Department and Social Services, who flatly refused to help,saying that they have no statutory obligation to rehouse the homeless, and that I hadn’t lived in WestNorfolk for 5 years — their waiting list qualification period. Meanwhile we slept in a garage just over6John Ter Marsch 1979Adam Harvey 1978Adam Harvey 1978Adam Harvey 19787

Adam Harvey 1978the Cambridgeshire border. There was nowhere to rent in East Anglia.Then I returned to Hebden Bridge hoping to find a house to rent, but the housing situation was farworse than in 1973.’(Hebden Bridge, Yorkshire, 1976)‘It was always one room; I’ve never been lucky enough to find a flat. Landladies prefer students toworking men. Single people have no chance of getting accommodation. I’m definitely not going into ahostel’.(London, 1975)Lie of LandRay 1978Mike Goldwater 1979‘It started off because I couldn’t get anything else, now it would be because you’re not inhibited. Itshould be possible for me to do what I want to do in my own environment. I don’t see what thecouncil would have to offer.’(London, 1975)‘My brother-in-law [John] went to see the landlord of a house which has been standing empty for 18months and asked him if he could rent it off him. This man was rude to John and said he had nointention of letting his house and told John to clear off. This was the straw that broke the camel’sback. John and Sally moved into the house. They have been there now for two weeks, but the landlordhasn’t found out yet. They have no furniture, light or heat and they sleep in sleeping bags. We areterrified about what might happen to them.’(Leicester, October 1976)‘After ten years in bedsits I needed to stretch my legs. I lived in a van for about three weeks, part ofthat time I spent in Manchester and Sheffield looking for cheaper housing. By the end of October itwas getting very cold in the van. It was uncomfortable and was broken into, and I heard of this placehaving empty rooms.’(London, 1975)‘My wife and I were told by the housing manager that we were to play bat and ball with the Council.If we could find a place to live, and send our rehousing form in, he would, or might, be able to help usget council accommodation.‘We couldn’t find private accommodation, so we decided to squat in empty council property. We had18 points [on the waiting list] before we decided to squat, now it seems we have none. Many times Ihave gone to the Council and asked them “What is homeless?”; they reply “A married couple with achild.”’(St Albans, Hertfordshire, undated)‘I am living with my common law wife, one of her children and one of my own. My wife is also threemonths pregnant. We were living with my wife’s brother and sister in law, but it got so as we were allgetting on each other’s nerves and all on edge. We just had to leave there and squat.’(Liverpool, September 1976)Dave Walking 1979Dave Hoffman 1977Ray 1979Dave Walking 1978Tony Sleep 1979Tony Sleep 1978I had great problems paying the rent. I had been paying a third of my income, but I lost my job andthen all my income went in rent. I stopped paying and I was evicted. It was a really shitty life style. Itdidn’t satisfy my requirements. Paying a tolerable rent meant having just no space.’(London, 1975)‘In the summer of 1971, I was living in my own house in Moss side, Manchester. The house waspurchased from me by the Manchester City Council under a CPO and I received £25 for a 3-bedroomand bathroom terraced house.‘In January of the next year, three demolition workmen came to evict my family and myself on the89

Adam Harvey 1978Tony Sleep 1978Mike Goldwater 1978Adam Harvey 1978Tony Sleep 1979Raissa Page 1978Tony SleepChristopher Phollips 1978Martin Slavin 1972grounds that we were squatting. Despite our protestations they commenced to remove the roof.‘Eventually we were rehoused on the 16th floor of a recently built block. The conditions were, to putit bluntly, awful. Two lifts stopping at alternate floors served 160 apartments. It was very rare forboth to be working at any one time and quite frequently neither was. We had to leave.‘We then moved to Hebden Bridge on the advice of some friends who had been living here for sometime. Our first home was a rented one-up, one-down and kitchen house which we had to leave becausethe Council were buying it (same old story). Nothing else was available so we moved into a derelictcottage on the moors. We came to an agreement with the owner and lived there very happily for 18months. However [the owners] leased the property and again we had to go.‘We left for Scotland in search of work and a place to live. Work of a transient nature was easilyfound, but a home did not fall to hand so easily. Eventually, admitting defeat we came back toHebden Bridge where we at least had friends. No houses were available so here we are squatting.’(Hebden Bridge, Yorkshire, 1976)I have been evicted from my council flat for rent arrears and am now homeless. I am single and onsocial security and as I have no permanent address now they will not pay me my benefit or help mefind new accommodation. So I will have to find somewhere to squat.’(Liverpool, February 1979)‘My wife is divorced and she has four children in voluntary care in Middlesborough. Our situation isthat we can’t get a house unless we have the children and we can’t have the children unless we have ahouse. We both work in or near the town and we cannot get satisfaction from any of the councils wehave been in touch with. Therefore we have taken the law into our own hands to get my wife’schildren and ourselves together as a family.’(Oldham, Lancashire, undated)‘I wanted to live communally in a large household with kids, and the only way to do that was squatting.’(London, 1975)‘We have just squatted a local council property, with the intention of turning it into an action centre,advice centre, craft workshops etc, – much needed in Exeter.’(Exeter, Devon, October 1976)‘There are plenty of places to live on a winter-let basis, but come Easter we find ourselves homeless forthe summer. Understandably, the landlords want to let their flats and cottages to holiday-makers inthe summer for ludicrous rents. We are fairly together people who want somewhere to stay where wecan grow vegetables, keep a few chickens and raise a few kids.’(Liskeard, Cornwall, May 1977)‘[Squatting] was the only way I saw of getting accommodation I could afford and liked, and therewas an element of adventure. I’d have joined the brain drain and gone to South America if I hadn’tsquatted. London is a creative city; creative people always live in a bohemian way. Squatting is abohemian way of life. Anybody interested in community life would extinguish squatting at their peril.I’m a citizen of the oceans, not of any of the suicidal technocracies.’(London, 1975)‘We are considering moving into a cottage out in the mountains here. It’s been condemned for fiveyears. The owner, who’s an old local farmer, was quite happy for people to stay here until quiterecently but the council have started fining him if anyone lives there with his permission. We’re amarried couple. If we knew that we’d be able to stay for a few months at least, we’d move in tomorrowas we’re living in a tent at the moment and it’s very damp.’(Hay-on-Wye, Wales, October 1976)11Dave Hoffman 1978Adam Harvey 1978Syndication International 1976

A decade of squattingPress AssociationThe story of squatting in Britain since 1968by Steve PlattPopperfoto3 Setting the stageThe new squatting wave begins – 1969-19724 Here there and everywhereThe mid-seventies boom in squatting5 Mounting oppositionProperty owners and the media attack squatting6 Fighting backSquaters organise nationally and locally to defendtheir rights7 A whole new ball gameWinning concessions and learning ot live with thenew lawTime OutTony SleepThe TimesMetropolitan Police12 13

Setting the stageThe new squatting wave begins – 1969-1972When I was nine or ten years old I used to go‘exploring’ with friends around the allotments inStoke-on-Trent. A never-ending vista of huts andsheds of all shapes and sizes littered the area. Itwas the early sixties equivalent of an adventureplayground. One day we went into one of thelarger huts and were amazed to discover thatthis ramshackle building was somebody’s home.What had appeared from the outside to benothing more than an oversized store shedturned out to be a tiny house. Technically theoccupants were squatters since they had no legalright or licence of abode. Although they probablypaid the few shillings weekly rent charged forthe allotment, they certainly had no right toconstruct a house on the plot. But lost amidstthat warren of greenhouses, huts and sheds, Idoubt if they were troubled until the site wascleared for a new housing estate.There have always been many such squatters;people who probably do not think of themselvesas squatters and who are certainly not part of anymovement, but squatters all the same. I recentlycame across one such person by accident at theend of an unmade road near Hoddesdon,Hertfordshire, in a large uncultivated field whichbacks onto a small wood. In the shade of the treesthere is the shell of a three-ton truck. The chassisand engine cab are missing and all that remainsis the metal bodywork. To the undiscerning eye itlooks much like any other abandoned vehicle butfor several years it has been the home of anItalian immigrant who works at a local nursery.Many people are still forced into desperate andinadequate solutions to their housing problems.One family in Lancashire recently made theirhome in a metal hopper in a factory yard. Theyinstalled four bunk beds, a makeshift toilet and acooker and, unbeknown to the factory ownersand workers, lived there until one day candles setHome in a factory yard hopper in Lancashire, 1974, ina van in East London, 1978, and on a common inCambridgeshire, 1971. There have always been suchsquatters who may not see themselves as part of any‘movement’.Skelsmerdale & Holland ReporterDavid HoffmanThe GuardianChapter3fire to the hopper’s canvas cover. 1In 1972, a man who had lived with his wife ina car parked outside a transport cafe for ninemonths appealed to others in a similar situationto contact him with a view to organising a lobbyof Parliament. Over 730 people living in cars,vans and abandoned caravans responded to hisrequest, and there must have been many more inthe same position who did not. Bus shelters,shopping arcades, doorways, lift-shafts andbridges, among many other inhospitable places,have provided thousands of grateful homelesswith shelter and protection from the elements.In addition, there has always been a large butunknown number of people for whom there is anelement of choice in their adoption of an unsettledmobile lifestyle, as opposed to society’s efforts totie them to one place. ‘Tramps’ have slept inderelict houses for many centuries and gypsiesare often forced to squat on empty land wheneverthey stop moving. There are many individualcase histories in the following pages. But it hasbeen the successes and failures of squatting as amovement which have determined the presentconditions in which squatting is a real possibilityfor tens of thousands of people. If there is a biasin this section towards the actions of organisedsquatters, it is only because their stories are ofgreater significance for squatters as a whole.The widespread postwar squatting movement(Chapter 9) was effectively crushed in 1946.Throughout the 1950s and 1960s, thoughsquatting was thought not to occur, a few peopledid squat but in complete isolation from anyorganised movement. Then, by publicising theiractivities and consciously encouraging others toimitate them, a group of squatters in late 1968paved the way for squatting to grow from thequiet act of desperate individuals to thewidespread activity which it is today.The rootsIn the late fifties and early sixties, extra-Parliamentary political activity was centred onthe Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament and theCommittee of 100. The latter openly advocateddirect action to further its fight against nucleararms and this marked the revival of the use ofdirect action in non-industrial settings. At thesame time, numerous sociologists publishedresearch confirming the continued existence ofinequality and deprivation. A new generation ofangry young middle-class men and women wereappalled by the fact that the poor were still withus, and the adequately housed majority wereshocked to learn that homelessness and inadequatehousing still afflicted millions of people. Awarenessgrew with the publication of reports like theMilner-Holland survey on London’s housing in1965, TV shows like ‘Cathy Come Home’ (firstbroadcast in 1966) and the formation of Shelter,a national charity campaigning on housing.The Committee of 100, and the experiencewhich people acquired during their involvementwith it, offered new ideas on how to fight thisinjustice. It was becoming apparent that directaction was a means by which concessions couldbe wrung out of a complacent establishment. In alonger-term perspective, some people thought itmight provide a way to build a movementchallenging the actual structure of society. Inmany respects the direct action of the Committeeof 100 against nuclear armaments was purelysymbolic, challenging the state at the pointwhere it could least afford to yield. In contrastthe activists of the late sixties began to makemore realistic demands and moved into areaswhich affected people’s everyday lives.The main impetus for the 1968-69 squattingcampaign came from a loosely-knit group ofradicals, many of whom had been involved withthe Committee of 100 and the Vietnam SolidarityCampaign. Some of them had been active in a longstruggle at King Hill Hostel,West Mailing,in 1966.The hostel, run by Kent County Council for homelessfamilies, operated on antiquated rules, theworst of which was that only mothers and childrencould stay there with husbands only being allowedto see their families at approved visiting times. Agroup of husbands moved into the hostel and refusedto leave.A protracted battle followed, endingin humiliation and defeat for the Council. Thehostel rules were changed and the lesson was clearHarsh conditions in emergency hostels for thehomeless which led to the formation of the LondonSquatters Campaign in the late sixties. The hostelrules (top) were produced by Birmingham CorporationHousing Management Department.Shelter Photo Libraryfor all to see: direct action obtained changes whichyears of pressure through normal democraticchannels had failed to achieve.Activists also came together in other housingcampaigns during 1967 and 1968 and this enableda core of militants to accumulate a valuable fundof contacts and experience before embarking uponsquatting.The idea of squatting was first raised bythe homeless and badly-housed families involvedin these campaigns. Squatting was a naturalextension of direct action into the fight for decenthousing and conditions were ripe for it to succeed.Homelessness was increasing again, as was thestock of empty houses. Public sympathy, on whichthe success of squatting depends, was firmly on theside of the homeless. And there was an organisedgroup of people willing to set things in motion.Rebirth of a squatting movementThe London Squatters Campaign was set up by ameeting of 15 people at the house of Ron Baileyon 18 November 1968. Although no written aimswere set down, Bailey later claimed there wereunwritten ones. One was simply ‘the rehousing offamilies from hostels or slums by means ofsquatting’. But it was also hoped that ‘squattingon a mass scale’ could be sparked off, that thiswould start ‘an all-out attack on the housingauthorities with ordinary people taking actionfor themselves’ and that the campaign wouldhave ‘a radicalising effect on existing movementsin the housing field’. 2In spite of their laudably ambitious hopes, fewof the activists would have found it credible hada visitor from the future told them that theirexample would be followed by tens of thousandsof people seizing houses which did not belong tothem. Their first target was ‘The Hollies’ apartially empty block of luxury flats in WansteadHigh Street, East London. Some of the flats hadbeen empty ever since they were built four yearspreviously and this was seen as symbolic of theinjustice which allowed private property ownersto keep houses empty whilst thousands werehomeless. The occupation for a few hours of theseflats on 1 December 1968 was symbolic too, in a1415

David HopeSquatting spreads.Left: Moving in and staying, Notting Hill, January1969.Right above: Edinburgh squatters occupy flats on theRoyal Mile left empty for four years after conversion bythe Council because no-one could afford the rents.Right below: Occupation of a Brighton Council houseafter a 200-strong meeting of the ‘Rents ProjectCampaign for Better Housing’ decided to take upsquatting, May 1969.Brighton Evening AngusEast London News AgencyThe ScotsmanThe London Squatters’ first act: a three-hour demonstration squat in luxury flats, December 1968.Daily Telegraphdifferent way. It suggested a logical step forward:homeless people could introduce an element ofcontrol into their lives by taking over emptyhouses which the established institutions ofsociety could not or would not use. A week afterthis brief occupation, a separate group ofactivists showed how easy it could be to makeempty houses habitable. For one day they tookover a house in Notting Hill, West London, whichhad been empty for 18 months and cleaned anddecorated it, clearly demonstrating its suitabilityfor use by the homeless.Two weeks later, just before Christmas, theLondon Squatters Campaign occupied All SaintsVicarage, Leyton, a building which the churchhad kept empty for over three years. Homelesspeople were encouraged to be involved in theaction. A few from a Camden Council hostelmanaged to enter before police cordoned off thehouse. The squatters then asked the church tomake the house available to the homeless, but thiswas rejected, almost 1,968 years to the day sinceanother homeless family is reputed to have beenforced to sleep in a barn. The squatters made thispoint forcefully, stayed for a day and left. Thesame weekend, the Notting Hill group occupied ablock of luxury flats, Arundel Court, and againleft voluntarily after a few hours. All the occupationsso far had been symbolic gestures, theirprimary aim being to attract publicity. Howeverthe coverage they received was beginning to fadeand in the new year, the second, more decisive,phase of the campaign began.On 18 January 1969, Maggie O’Shannon andher two children moved into No 7 Camelford RoadNotting Hill, with the aid of the Notting Hillactivists. The Inner London Education Authority(ILEA), which owned the house, reacted predictably:‘This kind of forced entry into privateproperty is tantamount to an attempt to jump thehousing queue’ said a spokesperson. The fact thatthe house was condemned and empty with noplans to fill it seemed to have escaped the ILEA’snotice. But after six weeks of adverse publicity arent book was grudgingly pushed through theletterbox, making Maggie O’Shannon the firstperson since the 1940s to obtain permanenthousing through squatting. Her story was told onTV and in almost every newspaper in thecountry, with the result that the lesson was notlost on other homeless families — MaggieO’Shannon had got a place to live by squatting.Squatting began to spread.Three families movedinto houses in Winnersh, near Reading. In Yorkshire,a family squatted a privately-owned housewhich had been empty for six years and, within amonth,was given a legal tenancy.Squatting groupswere set up in Leeds, where an office block wasoccupied, Edinburgh, Birkenhead, Brighton andManchester as well as in several parts of London.1617

Redbridge thuggeryThe most important struggle though was in Redbridge,East London, an area close to the homes ofseveral of the London Squatters Campaignmembers.Redbridge Council was planning a majorcentral area redevelopment scheme for Ilford. Thescheme had not been officially approved andwould not be started for several years and yet theCouncil was deliberately leaving a large number ofsound houses empty to rot. Attempts to persuadeit to use these houses for short-term lets had failedand some houses were planned to be left emptyfor ten years. On 8 February four houses wereoccupied,families installed and barricades erected.The Council initially attempted to crushsquatting through the courts. First it tried toserve injunctions ordering the squatters to ceasetrespassing but these were evaded. It thenunsuccessfully argued that the squatters wereguilty of ‘forcible detainer’ an offence created in1429 to prevent anyone using violence to retainpossession and asked a magistrate to have themprosecuted. Redbridge Council then succeeded inobtaining possession orders for the squattedhouses but was thwarted when the squattersswopped houses so that people named on thepossession orders were no longer resident in thehouses to which they applied. (A ruling in 1975(pl61) was to make ‘squat-swopping’ ineffectivebut it remained a useful tactic for many years).Annoyed by the prospect of more occupations, theCouncil embarked upon blunter tactics. In onefortnight at the end of February, it gutted 29houses to deter squatters from moving in at acost to the ratepayers of £2,520.But by now squatting in the area was beginningto take root as more and more people approachedthe London Squatters Campaign wanting to squat.During the first weeks of April, several familiesand single parents moved in. Redbridge Council’sdetermination to crush the embryonic squattingmovement was meeting with little success. Buttowards the end of April it was ready to try again.In March, squatters in a Greater London Council(GLC) house, had been threatened with evictionby a group of officially-sanctioned thugs who usedviolence without bothering to obtain court orders.Olive Mercer, who was squatting in the house withher husband and son, was struck in the stomachwith an iron bar. She was pregnant and the blowcaused her to bleed and consequently to lose herbaby. The thuggery only ceased when a doctorSquatters move in to Redbridge’s emptyhouses, February 1969. Barricades arebuilt immediately. It was a first homefor the Beresford children (right) whoseparents had been homeless for 12 years.Chris Smith/ Camera PressJohn TophamPhotocalll FeatureKeystoneinsisted that her daughter, who was in bed withscarlet fever, was too ill to be moved.Redbridge Council was sufficiently ‘impressed’to hire the same thugs to deal with its own‘squatter problem’. The men, some of whomsported National Front badges, were supplied bya firm of private bailiffs run by Barry Quartermainwho the Sunday Times described as a man who‘tears a London telephone directory into halvesand then into quarters as he lectures you aboutthe toughness of his henchmen’. 3 He was later toserve a three-year jail sentence for offencescommitted in pursuit of his ‘business’.On 21 April people squatting in threeRebridge houses were evicted by these bailiffswithout any court orders authorising suchevictions. They were accompanied by a posse ofpolice, Council officials and welfare workers, allof whom ignored the violent methods of thebailiffs. One squatter was beaten up and had hisjaw broken. The Fleming family was forced todress in front of the bailiffs and had theirfurniture smashed and thrown out of thewindows. Another squatter, Ben Beresford, in anaffidavit, described his family’s eviction from oneof the houses:‘While my wife was trying to get somebaby’s clothes, I was told to “stop wastingfucking time”. I was grabbed hold of violentlyby one of the bailiffs and my arm was forcedin a lock behind my back. I was pushed andfrogmarched down the stairs into the waitingvan, and was locked in ... There I was forcedto stay until the end of the eviction’. 4Once the families had been kicked out, workmenwere sent in to wreck the houses, smashingholes in roofs and ripping out staircases to preventre-occupation. There were, however, many otherempty Council houses in the area and by mid-June squatters were once more in occupation ofseveral of them. Redbridge Council tried to useQuartermain’s men again but this time the squatterswere prepared. On 23 June, bailiffs were sentto No. 23 Audrey Road and No. 6 Woodland Road.They met with much more resistance than theyhad bargained for, and the eviction attempts wererebuffed. The national media were alerted, so thatwhen the bailiffs returned at dawn two days later,their thuggery was reported in the press and shownon TV all over the country. Redbridge Councilearned the worst press that a council has everreceived in dealings with squatters. Not only wasFleet Street News AgencyTop: The Fleming family after being illegally evicted inApril 1969 by Redbridge Council. (The house was notneeded until 1976 when it was demolished and the site wasstill unused in 1980). Above: A thug is frogmarched out ofa house by squatters after an abortive attempt to evictthe Flemings from their next squatted home, June 1969.1819

KeystoneLeft: Protected by dustbin lid shields, RedbridgeCouncil’s hired ‘bailiffs’ hurl bottles and bricks in adawn attack on No 6 Woodlands Road. The squattersfought back and, after a fire started, the police finallyintervened. Above: The squatters fight on.The TimesEvening Standardit shown to be pursuing a wasteful andinhumane policy of unnecessarily destroyinghabitable houses, but it was also illegally usingextreme violence against the homeless.The media coverage played a major part inforcing the Council to negotiate despite thereluctance of many councillors and council officers,and in July an agreement with the squatters wasworked out. Some squatter families were to getpermanent council homes, the Council was tocarry out a review of its use of short-life propertyand all gutting was to cease while this reviewwas carried out. The squatters were to meet theCouncil again after it was completed. In order toobtain these concessions, the squatters had tovacate the houses they occupied and stop theircampaign in the area. They voted by a two-thirdsmajority to agree to the Council’s conditions butthe agreement was denounced by some as a‘surrender’ and there was a lot of bitterness onboth sides about the decision.Although it did get housing for some of thesquatting families, the agreement had only asmall effect on Council policy. Redbridge didbring into use some properties not scheduled tobe demolished for seven years but claimed thatmost would cost too much to bring up to habitablestandard. Three years later, in fact, it releasedseveral of the poorer short-life properties to localsquatters. One of the properties that squattersvoluntarily vacated in July 1969 – No 2 WoodlandsRoad — was still empty ten years later. Indeedthe same streets in Redbridge which were thefocus for the 1969 campaign remain blighted bythe same redevelopment scheme in 1980. 5 Toavoid opposition, Redbridge now has a policy of‘prior demolition’, pulling down houses which areon land not needed for several years.Nevertheless,the Redbridge struggle achieved agreat deal. It ensured that owners seeking evictionwent through the courts, affording squatters aminimal degree of security without whichsquatting could not have gone beyond the stageof protest sit-ins. Indeed the London SquattersCampaign’s adroit legal defence establishedprecedents which benefitted squatters for manyyears and many people involved in Ilford wenton to promote squatting in other areas. TheLondon Squatters Campaign renamed itself EastLondon Squatters as new local groups wereestablished all over the capital. The beginningsof squatting on a mass scale had been made.Widespread support and sympathetic publicity helpsthe upsurge in squatting.2021

Illustrated London NewsBrian Weske/ Camera PressSunday TelegraphThe TimesThe occupation of No 144Picadilly. A hostile press anddefiant slogans ensure a permanentsea of onlookers (left), whileinside, people try to establish along-term communal squat. Plasticballs are used both for defence (topleft) and for play (top right).John Haines/ Topix Brian Weske/ Camera Press Daiily TelegraphBrian Weske/ Camera PressBrian Weske/ Camera PressHippydillyThe tide of public opinion which was firmly infavour of squatters in Redbridge turned later in1969 as a result of the terrible publicity attractedby the occupation of a number of prominentbuildings in central London, particularly No 144Piccadilly.September 1969 became the open season forhippy-hunting and squatter-bashing in the press.The main action was centred upon the takeover bythe ‘London Street Commune’ and assortedsupporters of No 144 Piccadilly, an empty schoolin Endell Street, Covent Garden and empty officesin Russell Square, Bloomsbury. No 144 Piccadillywas squatted early in September and when policeevicted its occupants less than three weeks later,many of them moved into the Endell Street school,from which they were evicted after only two days.The Russell Square squat was equally short-lived.The press had already introduced the ‘hippymenace’ to the public earlier that year, but hadnot yet generated the hysteria which erupted inSeptember. The London Street Commune was aloosely organised group of mainly young, longhairedpeople who wanted to find somewhere forhundreds of ‘hippies’ then sleeping rough inLondon’s parks to stay overnight. No 144Piccadilly, a privately owned empty mansion atHyde Park Corner, seemed an ideal place toestablish a communal squat. But any possibilityof this happening was immediately destroyed bythe powerful reaction of the media.‘Drug taking, couples making love while otherslook on, rule by heavy mob armed with ironbars, foul language, filth and stench. THAT isthe scene inside the hippies’ fortress in London’sPiccadilly. These are not rumours but facts,sordid facts which will shock ordinary decent,family-loving people.’ 6declared the front page of The People under theheading ‘HIPPIE THUGS: THE SORDIDTRUTH’.The Times warned in a lead article that‘Molotov cocktails were being manufactured’ inpreparation for a long siege. The Sunday Express,in common with most newspapers, ‘smuggled’reporters and a photographer into the building.Under the heading ‘HIPPIES WITH SWORDSWAIT FOR BATTLE’, the brave journalistsrevealed that the squatters had an armoury consistingof ‘knives, coshes, rocks and even swords’.Media coverage ensured that the crowdoutside No 144 Piccadilly rarely dropped below500 during the day and large sections of it wereextremely hostile and potentially violent. Indeed,until the eviction, most police activity was directedagainst spectators who wanted to ‘deal with’ thesquatters. Little media coverage was given tothese incidents. In one case, when five motorbikesbelonging to people inside were set on fire, notone large circulation paper mentioned it, eventhough every paper reported that the occupantshurled missiles at the people responsible.The media, having created this mood of intensehostility, neglected, by and large, to report how itwas manifested. For example, the saddest momentof these squats was reported only by radical papersand The Guardian.Ayouth climbed onto a windowledge 30 feet above pointed iron railings duringthe eviction of the Endell Street squat. A policemaninside the building tried to grab him. Downin the street a group of onlookers yelled ‘Let himfall’ and ‘Come on, why don’t you jump?’ For amoment it looked as if he might fall; he slipped,lost his footing and was left holding on by onehand. The group of men below cheered but muchto their disappointment, he was saved.Even when No 144 was evicted on 21September, press coverage remained firmly rootedin the fantasies the press had created which seemedto relate more to medieval times or the Wild Westthan to 1969. For the Daily Mirror, the Piccadillyeviction took on the form of the ‘FALL OF HIPPYCASTLE’. The Times emphasised the role of 50young policemen who formed ‘a bridgehead for asupporting column of police waiting nearby’ andits headline bawled ‘SQUATTERS OUSTED BYPOLICE COMMANDO’. The Daily Telegraphcrowed delightedly ‘POLICE ROUT PICCADILLYHIPPIES’.The next day The Times carried an editorialdemanding that squatting be made a criminaloffence, and suggesting ‘Meanwhile, if groups ofhippies continue to roam from one unoccupiedbuilding to another, they could be prosecutedunder the Vagrancy Acts.’Although, looked at objectively, these squatsdid not give a particularly good impression of thesquatting movement, the frenzy of paranoidindignation they aroused was out of all proportionto their significance or to the number of peopleinvolved. Furthermore, the public hostility itselfwas largely responsible for the escalation of thesquatters’ defences and the disintegration oforganisation inside the squats. For example, afterinitially intending to occupy No 144 Piccadillypeaceably and eventually to argue their case incourt, the hippies felt forced to bring in Hell’s2223

Angels to form a defence force against attacks bypolice and skinheads. The Hell’s Angels startedto dominate the squat and there were severalnasty incidents, including a rape. Faced withangry crowds, impending eviction and internaldissent between hippies and Hell’s Angels, whatcould have become peaceful communes housinghomeless young people became chaotic anddisorganised fortresses.For all the talk of violence, there was none atthe evictions. Most of the weapons were figmentsof journalists’ imaginations. Those that reallyexisted – mostly brightly-coloured plastic ballsand fire extinguishers – were relatively harmlessand ineffective. It took just four minutes forpolice to take control of No 144 Piccadilly andlittle longer at Endell Street.The press outcry also provided a smokescreenbehind which civil liberties were being cast to oneside. The eviction of No 144 Piccadilly was not legallyauthorised.The police had no possession orderand used a warrant under the Dangerous DrugsAct to legitimise their entry.In Endell Street 200policemen evicted 63 squatters, all of whom werearrested and charged with resisting the Sheriff.Manyhadadditionalchargeslaidagainst them andmost were refused bail.One month after the arrests32 of them were still being held at AshfordRemand Centre. Eight were singled out as ‘ringleaders’and charged with conspiracy to ‘forciblydetain’ the Endell Street premises under the1429 Forcible Entry Act. After a nine-day trialheld in ultra-conservative Lewes 50 miles fromLondon, all eight were found guilty. Two werejailed for nine months, two sent to detentioncentres, three given suspended jail sentences andone escaped with a £20 fine.The events of September 1969 provide thehistorical basis of later popular and mediaimages of squatters. Labels thrown around freelyat that time stuck. The image of lazy scroungersbent on destroying society became synonymouswith squatters, as Peace News observed:‘The word ‘squatter’ now conjures up a clubwavingsavage who is liable to take over yoursemi-detached the moment you turn your back,and wreck it. A totally misleading image, eveninsofar as it applies to the occupants of No144, let alone to other varieties of squatter.But it will stick, and it will greatly help theQuartermains of this world.’ 7Whether the press campaign against hippysquatters was, as the newspapers would claim, areflection of public outrage or whether, as is morelikely, the campaign itself created that outrage,there is no doubt that the media coverage panderedto people’s worst prejudices, and focused resentmentnot just against hippy squatters but againstsquattersgenerally.Priortotheseevents,thepresshad been equivocal about squatters, and, at times,had supported them wholeheartedly like at Redbridgewhere public opinion lay solidly with thehomeless families involved. But No 144 Piccadillywas totally different.The demands of the Redbridgesquatters had been realisable in the short runwithin the terms of the existing institutionalframework of housing. They sought improvedhousing provision for homeless families and themain issue at stake was bureaucratic inefficiencyin the handling of local authority housing stock.Conflict between the needs of people for housingand the right of property owners to do as theywished with their property – including leaving itempty – was a secondary issue. Squatting in Redbridgewas not so much a challenge to privateproperty rights as it was to incompetent councils.The‘hippy’ squats appeared to present a starkerthreat to private property. The lifestyle of thehippies, or at least the way in which it wasdescribed, was perceived as a challenge to society’smost dearly held values. It called into questionboth the nuclear family and the work ethic, andhowever superficial that challenge was in reality,it was regarded by the public and the state as areal and substantial threat.The London Squatters Campaign vacillated inits attitude to the ‘hippy’ squatters, and in doingso missed one of the most crucial points arisingfrom the central London occupations – theexpression of the growing need for single personaccommodation and more imaginative thinkingin housing provision. Not all young peoplewanted to live in bedsitters or with their parents,and the big squats of September 1969, for alltheir short-comings, did reveal the increasingdemand for communal living arrangementsmanaged by young people themselves.But any serious consideration of the issuesraised by these squats was drowned in the tide ofhysteria. Meanwhile we were left to reflect uponthe unedifying spectacle of Mr Ronald Lyon, aproperty developer, walking into West EndCentral Police Station and donating £1,000 topolice charities in appreciation of the good jobdone in evicting the occupants of No 144Piccadilly. The building stayed empty for threemore years and was then demolished (despitebeing listed) for a luxury hotel.The end of No 144 Piccadilly. Policeon a drugs raid clamber in over the‘drawbridge’ (far left) and evict thesquatters many of whom move to asquatted school in nearby EndellStreet (right).KeystonePopperfotoThe GuardianDaily TelegraphThe Times2425

Siege mentalityIt was not only‘hippy squats’ which ran into troubleat this time. In the midst of the Hippydilly affairAlistair Black, Under Sheriff of Greater London,whose opposition to squatters has since often puthis name in headlines discovered ‘an armoury ofdiabolical weapons’ in No. 22 Rumbold Road,Fulham, after he had evicted squatters from thepremises.Alderman Bill Smith, Leader of the localCouncil said the house was like a ‘World War Onedug-out’ and that the weapons found includedgas chlorine bombs, swagger canes filled with lead,piles of bricks and sticks with sharpened metalends. 8 The squatters were subsequently foundguilty of conspiracy to commit actual bodilyharm to persons attempting lawful entry andreceived suspended prison sentences.In Brighton too squatters went to extremelengths to defend their homes. Squatting inBrighton was launched by the Brighton RentsProject, a broad based campaign for better housingwhich had already received widespread support,including that of the Labour MP for Kemp Town,Dennis Hobden.Squatting was seen as a last resortin the face of an intransigent Conservative Council.Several empty houses were occupied and familiesinstalled. The Council promptly announced thatthe squatters would be struck off the housingwaiting list, and immediately began courtproceedings for eviction. And, as if to emphasiseits lack of concern for the homeless, it proceededto sell No 70 Church Street, a house in the towncentre which it had kept empty for 20 years.Despite numerous arrests of supporters onminor charges, the campaign continued to grow.Towards the end of July 1969, houses in QueensSquare and Wykeham Terrace were squatted. Thearmy, which owned the properties, had beenintending to sell them with vacant possession, butthe presence of squatters meant that this had to bepostponed.The squatters dug in to fight and calledfor support. In the months up to the eviction (on28 November) the local press pilloried the RentsProject and its helpers, warning of ‘private armies’and ‘terrible weapons’ waiting at WykehamTerrace.The dire warnings seemed to be validatedwhen three people from the squat were arrestedfor firebombing a local army recruitment office.The petrol bombs had been made at the squatand several squatters were later sent to prison.These events were widely publicised withdisastrous consequences. In Brighton forinstance, squatting abruptly came to an end andthe Brighton Rents Project disintegrated, tornapart by external hostility and internal divisions.Military-style defences at Wykeham Terrace, Brighton,July 1969.Physical defence of squats was not in itself themain mistake. Indeed in Redbridge, which hadreceived nothing but favourable publicity, it hadbeen essential. On one occasion when a bailiffbroke through the front door of a squatted house,he fell down to the basement as the Council hadremoved the ground floor floorboards. Hismisfortune was compounded as squatters peltedhim with bricks until police intervened. Thedifference was that in Redbridge, physicaldefence was part of an overall strategy and theactions of the squatters were clearly seen (bothin law and by the public) to be in response toviolence on the part of the Council and itsBrighton Evening Angusbailiffs. The weapons in Fulham and Brightonwere, in fact, a direct response to events inRedbridge as a statement, largely ignored by thepress, from the Fulham squatters made clear:‘The stockpiling of weapons must be seenagainst the right background. They wereacquired at a time when certain authoritieswere using private armies of strongarmtoughs on eviction work. When the danger ofthis happening in our case diminished[because the owner showed no intention ofusing violence] the weapons should have beengot rid of. Unfortunately they weren’t.’ 9The reason why the weapons were kept wasthat a kind of siege-mentality had taken over fromreasoned and intelligent action. The task ofphysically defending buildings had completelydominated that of organising an effective defencepolitically.The occupants became involved in an increasinglyintroverted and insular struggle whichbore no relation to tactical or political realities.This failure was exploited to the full by themedia to the detriment of all squatters.Emergence of licensed squattingIn June 1969, negotiations started between SouthEast London Squatters and Lewisham Council,with a view to allowing people to use emptyCouncil properties on short term licences. Thefirst squats in Lewisham coincided with theviolence in Redbridge and Lewisham Council waseager to avoid a similar conflict. The existence ofseveral large redevelopment schemes in theborough meant that a large stock of propertywould be empty for several years and the Councilrealised that if it failed to reach an agreementwith the local squatting group, squatters wouldprobably take over these houses anyway.The negotiations were long and protracted,partly due to the cumbersome process of localgovernment, but also because the Labour minorityopposed any deal with the squatters. At all stages,the squatters’ negotiators pushed for further concessionsbut some squatters felt that they werebeing too conciliatory and betraying the originalideas of the squatting movement. Critics of a ‘deal’pointed to the number of restrictive conditionsinsisted on by the Council. Only Lewishamfamilies on the waiting list were to be housed;dwellings licensed to the squatting group were tobe vacated when required and there would be noguarantee of rehousing.In return the squatters would be licensed touse short-life houses given to them by the Council.(Technically a licensed squatter is not a squatterat all but a licensee: a licensee has permission toremain in a property until the licence is revoked;a squatter does not have the owner’s permission– see p 230). The families who were housedwould have their housing waiting list points‘frozen’ so that their long-term chances of gettinga Council house would not be jeopardised.The critics amongst the squatters argued thatthe conditions imposed by Lewisham made thesquatters totally dependent upon its generosityand its efficiency in the use of its housing stock.There were a number of objections:• How could they be sure the Council wouldhonour the agreement?• What would prevent it from merelyreleasing a handful of dwellings keepingmany more empty?• Why restrict allocation to families living inthe borough?• What about the rights and needs of singlepeople?Supporters of the deal argued that obtaininglicences was a great victory. Families gainedsecurity from eviction and the agreement did notpreclude further militant squatting campaigns ifthe Council failed to deliver the goods. Indeedthe agreement was based upon the threat ofdirect action. Furthermore, they argued that itwas easy to ensure that a family was put on thewaiting list by housing them temporarily at anaddress in the borough – all residents ofLewisham being eligible to put their names onthe waiting list. They also pointed that althoughno offer of permanent rehousing was made,families evicted out of short-life property couldalways find accommodation through Lewisham’sHomeless Families Department.Eventually agreement was reached and on 13December 1969 Sam and Jill Kelly moved into aLewisham house with their ten-month old baby,marking the official recognition of the first licensedsquatters association. Within a few months theLewisham Family Squatting Association had over80 houses and employed Ron Bailey, one of thefounder members of the London SquattersCampaign, as a full-time worker. During the nextfive years, it housed around 100 families at anytimeand at the time of writing it is still operating,The first licensed family squatters move in, Lewisham,December 1969.though with fewer houses than in the past. Ithas long been a thriving model of a short-lifegroup working in harmony with its local council.The creation of licensed squatting emphasised adivision that was developing between ‘responsible’family groups and other squatters, especially ofthe ‘hippy’ variety. This division facilitated thedevelopment of a dual movement by the end of1969 when various groups had forced concessionsout of a few authorities and won licences whilstmany more squatters continued to face hostilereactions. There was a growing lobby in favour ofmaking squatting a criminal offence. This camenot only from expected sources, such as theProperty Owners Protection Society and theConservative Party, but also, and more alarmingly,Topixfrom sections of the Labour Party. Squatterscould thank the tangled and complex laws ofproperty ownership and tenure for the reluctanceto legislate quickly rather than any enlightenedapproach on the part of either major politicalparty in office. In the absence of any centrallydirectedpolicy, the state’s response to squattingvaried immensely between one area and anotherand even between different groups of squatterswithin the same area.Growth and limitations of licensingLocal authorities did not rush to follow theexample set by the Lewisham agreement. On thecontrary, the usual pattern for the emergence oflicensed‘squatting’groupswasthatfirst,squattersmoved into council property and the council wouldstart the eviction process while the squattersresponded by waging a campaign arounddemands for no evictions and the use of emptyDirect action like this occupation of the Labour Party’sHQ at Transport House in May 1971 (above) wasneeded before Labour-controlled Southwark Councilwas prepared to start a licensed squatting scheme. Fewcouncils gave in without such pressure.The Guardian2627

Model Agreement between Councils andFamily Squatting AssociationsInformation Sheet No.7Family Squatting Advisory Service1. ‘The Council of the London Borough of – – –(The Council) will offer to the – – – FamilySquatting Association (The Association) allproperties in the Council’s ownership with aminimum life of nine months and which theCouncil does not propose to use themselves.’2. ‘Such properties shall be offered to theAssociation without charge’.3. ‘The Association will decide whether to acceptor reject properties offered to it. Before officiallyaccepting a property the Association shall bepermitted to enter the property for the purpose ofrepairing it.’4. ‘Anyone rehoused in the properties by theAssociation shall be liable to pay general rates andwater rates.’5. ‘No expense shall fall upon the Council inrespect of any works, repair or maintenance neededat any of the properties.’6. ‘The Association will ensure that the propertiesare only used for the benefit of people registeredwith the Council for housing accommodation andin exceptional cases for any other families,provided that in such exceptional cases theAssociation shall obtain an alternative rehousingcommitment for the families involved.’7. ‘The Association will give the Council vacantpossession of any of the properties when they arerequired by the Council for demolition orrehabilitation and the Council will give theAssociation at least three months notice to vacate.’8. ‘The Association undertakes to use its bestendeavours to rehouse the occupiers of any of theproperties when they are so required, unless(a) the occupiers qualify for Councilaccommodation, or(b) the occupiers have persistently failed in amaterial respect to comply with the termsof the licence granted to them by theAssociation.As regards (a), in assessing eligibility under theCouncil’s points scheme, the occupiers shall bedeemed to have remained in continous occupationof the accommodation they occupied immediatelybefore they were first rehoused by theAssociation.’9. ‘The Council and the Association shall eachnominate four people to serve on a Working Groupto discuss this agreement, its workings, anydisputes or any other matters which may arise. TheWorking Group shall meet whenever either partydecides there is a need for such a meeting.’The number of families in licensed ‘squats’, in Londonboroughs, end of 1973. (Source: FSAS).Jim Radford, Street Research No 2Extracts from Bromley Family SquattersAssociation Leaflet for prospectivelicensed squattersWe are allowed to use the houses for a year orso until they are wanted for demolition. Wehave promised the two councils that we will seethat our families leave when required by themto do so. If you have not been rehoused by thecouncil or anyone else when that time comes wewill certainly try to transfer you to anothersquatting house. But we cannot guarantee orpromise that we will be able to do so.We can only offer accomodation on the clearunderstanding that you will move out when thecouncil ask for the property back.You must take responsibilityThere is no tenant/landlord division amongthe squatters. If you join us you will become alandlord just as much as a tenant. You will beexpected to accept your share of responsibilityfor the whole organisation. You will have anequal voice in our decision-making and youwill be expected to come to meetings and to joinwork parties from time to time to help otherpeople.You will contribute subscriptionsThe sub. for squatting houses is fixed by theassociation at a reasonably low level. It isnormally £3 per week per family. It does notmake you a tenant. It makes you a member.The money is used for the essential repairsneeded BEFORE houses can be occupied, forthe connection of gas, electricity and watersupplies if these are cut off at the road, and foradministrative costs.The sub. does not entitle you to expect theassociation to pay for repairs AFTER you havemoved in. We expect you to do those or pay forthem yourself. But we do try to help oneanother as much as possible.You will be responsible for your own gasand electricity bills and general and waterrates.What happens next?If you are prepared to accept these conditionsand want to squat, fill in the attachedquestionnaire and return it to one of theofficers. You will be visited at home by one ormore members of the association who will thenreport back to the Friday meeting.We will expect to see you at the Fridaymeetings at 77b Thicket Rd., Crystal Palacebeginning at 8 p.m. These are the meetings atwhich decisions are taken on whether or not tosquat a family and where. No discussion abouta family takes place at a meeting unless atleast one member of that family is present. Soif you miss a meeting it means you lose a week.You qualify to be a voting member of theassociation after attending three meetings andthree work parties. The final decision to admityou to membership or not will be taken by themeeting.property. Finally, the council would capitulateand hand over a limited number of its emptyhouses. Councils rarely handed over houses unlessfaced with the threat, or use of, direct action.Nevertheless, licensed squatting became morefirmly established as housing authorities grewmore aware of its value. In June 1970, theGreater London Council (GLC) gave LewishamFamily Squatters Association four houses onlicence and later that year Student CommunityHousing came into being in Camden with housesfrom both the GLC and Camden Council. TowerHamlets, Greenwich and Lambeth soon followedsuit in reaching agreements with their respectivelocal squatting groups and in September 1970the Family Squatting Advisory Service (FSAS)was set up with a £5,000 grant from Shelter.FSAS activist Jim Radford outlined two basicpurposes behind its establishment. 10 There was apractical purpose – to alleviate housing need bymaking use of disused council property: ‘To thisend we were prepared to work, organise,negotiate and, if necessary, fight.’ There was alsoan ideological purpose: ‘To show that ordinarypeople can organise collectively to run their ownaffairs and make their own decisions and thatthe weakest can become strong through theprinciple of mutual aid.’ A fundamentalinnovation of the family squatting groups wasthat they were democratically controlled by thefamilies involved, even if in practice theyfrequently relied on professional leadership.The successful development of the Lewishamgroup made it possible to persuade Shelter tofund FSAS in the belief that it would bring abouta rapid increase in the use of short-life housingand a network of self-help, community-controlledgroups. The grant enabled FSAS to employ twofull-time workers and maintain an office inLewisham. An FSAS hand-out described its jobas‘To service, support and maintain contact withexisting groups and to initiate the setting upof new groups by researching possibilities,development plans, etc in new areas, by contactingand bringing together interested peoplefor this purpose and by assisting and advisingat every stage of the negotiations if needed.’A model agreement between councils andfamily squatting associations was drawn up andFSAS also produced a series of detailed informationsheets on legal, practical and organisationalaspects of squatting, as well as Squat, a bimonthlynews magazine. Interest-free loans of upto £100 and grants of £20 were made available tolocal groups.Soon after its inception FSAS could point tonew agreements reached by groups in Brent,Islington and Wandsworth. By the end of 1971,12 local authorities in London had entered intoagreements with squatting groups many ofwhich were renamed ‘self-help housing’ groups astechnically their members were not squattersbut licensees. By the beginning of 1972, thefamily squatting movement was housing around1,000 people. During that year Ealing Council (inJanuary), Haringey (September) and Hounslow(October) started to give self-help groups shortlifeproperties. Even Redbridge Council finallygave way in June 1972.Outside London, where the housing crisis wasless severe, far fewer squatters obtained licences.There, the condition rather than the availabilityor cost of housing tended to be a greaterproblem. The proportion of squatters in smalltowns was thus smaller than in London and thiscorrespondingly reduced the amount of pressurewhich squatters were able to put on councils.Also, a greater proportion of squatters outsideLondon were in privately-owned property forwhich licences were less forthcoming.Squatting outside London achieved much interms of forcing the release of property for use byhousing associations, charities and other nonsquattinggroups. In 1972, for instance, I wasinvolved with a community project in Stoke-on-Trent; the Community Help and InformationProject (CHIP), which became one of many suchgroups to benefit from the squatting movement.CHIP needed premises from which to operate andthe Council had many empty commercialproperties in the city centre pending demolitionfor a new road. By reaching a licensing agreement,CHIP was able to get a shop and sufficient spaceto run a ‘crash pad’ for people with nowhere tostay. Squatting had provided the impetus for theCouncil to reach an agreement and the means bywhich it could be formalised to its satisfaction –a licence. Councils also awoke to how unnecessaryit was to use expensive bed and breakfast hotelsas temporary accommodation for homelessfamilies when empty short-life property wasavailable as a far cheaper alternative.By May 1973, FSAS estimated there were2,500 licensed squatters in 16 London boroughs,an increase of 150 per cent in little over a year.This rate of increase continued throughout 1973and by the end of the year Student CommunityHousing alone was housing over 700 people. Providedthe groups handed houses back whenrequired, the arrangement was extremelyadvantag-eous for local authorities and thecontinuing pressure of unlicensed squatting wasforcing them to look for ways of avoiding thesquatting ‘problem’. By ‘co-opting’ the familysquatting movement they could exercise controlover a trend which was threatening to usurp alittle of their power. Granting licences to particulargroups which were housing the deserving‘homeless’ also added the bonus of underminingpopular support for squatters without licences.And yet this strategy was unable to halt the‘boom’ in unlicensed squatting which started in1972. Family squatting groups were quicklyinundated with requests for housing which theywere unable to fulfill and most groups hadhousing waiting lists almost as intractable asthose of local authorities. Also, with theexception of Student Community Housing, noneof the groups catered for people without childrenand few would house people from outside theboroughs in which they were based. The failureof licensed groups to cope with the demand forsuch accommodation, coupled with the continuedexistence of a large amount of empty propertywhich councils were unwilling to license, meantthat unlicensed squatting became Increasinglyattractive for a growing number of people.At the end of 1971 when there were about1,000 licensed squatters in London, there werefewer than 1,000 unlicensed squatters. From 1972onwards, however, the number of unlicensedsquatters exceeded the number of licensed ones.The history of squatting after 1971 becomesmore and more concerned with ‘unofficial’squatters and it is to the growth in unlicensedsquatting that we now turn.•28 29

Here there and everywhereThe mid-seventies boom in squattingChapter4the growing number of empty houses, led to thegrowth of squatting both in scale and scope.Barricades in IslingtonThe best-publicised squatting struggle of 1972took place in Islington. Three houses in aredevelopment area, occupied by 19 squatters,including six children and four pregnant women,were threatened with eviction by IslingtonCouncil. Their response was defiant. On 26 Junethey erected barricades at both ends of LeslyStreet to which a sympathetic lorry driver gaveadded strength by dumping several tons of oldbricks. The following day the area social workteam gave its backing to the squatters and thesocial workers even marched down to thebarricades to express their solidarity.No entry! Squatters barricade Lesly Street in Islington,June 1972.Their spokesperson remarked:‘We refuse to act as social policemen. Thesquatters are being made scapegoats; it is notthey who are driving people out of Islingtonbut the speculators who can afford to pay upto £30,000 for a house . . . they are pushing upthe cost of land, interest charges and rents.’ 1The brief presence of barricades in a NorthLondon street (the police cleared them after a day)attracted immense media interest at a time whenthe limitations of licensed ‘squatting’ werebecoming more apparent to people active in thesquatting movement. Indeed, the developingschism between family squatters in licensedproperty and ‘unofficial’ squatters was heightenedduring the course of this struggle. According toDiana Shelley, one of the Islington squatters, JimRadford, of FSAS, attempted to ‘negotiate’ withthe Council on behalf of the squatters withoutconsulting them first. His unwelcome help wasrejected and his ‘initiative’ seen as interference.In fact, these squatters won their struggle.The families were rehoused by the Council andsingle people were left in peace until the housethey occupied was demolished. In addition,Student Community Housing was given its firstlicensed houses by Islington Council as a directoutcome of this fight. Local tenants, moreover,were delighted by the glare of publicity whichfocused attention on the appalling conditions inwhich they were living. The publicity resulted insome people obtaining rehousing much earlierthan the Council had originally intended.The story of these squatters clearly illustratesthe way in which there was never a clear-cutdemarcation between licensed and unlicensedsquatters. Student Community Housing obtainedlicenced properties from the Council as a resultof a struggle by unlicensed squatters who gainedan informal licence thereby making thetransition to licensed status! Indeed, the maindemand of many squatters was for a licence.There were a number of developments whichserved to heighten the housing crisis in the earlyseventies. These were the years of the property‘boom’ when house prices soared, especially innewly ‘desirable’ parts of major towns and cities.The average price of new homes almost doubledin three years. As well as making it more difficultfor people to buy their own homes, the boom alsomade it extremely profitable for landlords to evicttenants and sell the property. In many areas, lowincome tenants were pushed out and their dwellings,often improved with the aid of governmentgrants, were sold off to wealthier newcomers. Insome parts of London, entire neighbourhoodswere altered in a few years by this ‘gentrification’.Property companies also bought rented propertiesto demolish or refurbish for offices or luxuryhomes. Worse still was the scourge of speculatorswho, with land values steadily rising, boughtproperty as an investment with no intention ofusing it. For those people who fell between thetwin stools of home ownership and council housing(ie those who would traditionally have beenhoused intheprivatesector),opportunitieswereshrinking, rents rocketing and security diminishing.This increasing desperation of people at thebottom end of the housing market together withLondon News Service3031

Rural squats:Squatters inTalybont,Dyfed, Wales,1973 (above);Taunton,Somerset,1973(right);and LittleCoxwell,Oxon, 1974(below).Tafod y DdraigBristol United PressWiltshire NewspapersFrom Taunton to ColchesterAlmost half the London boroughs had reachedlicensing arrangements with local squattinggroups by 1972 but, in other parts of Britain,antagonism towards squatters meant that evensmall concessions were granted reluctantly andunder immense pressure.In Kent, for example, in October 1972, MedwayAction Committee for the Homeless squatted anempty school in Gillingham because of theCounty Council’s appalling record in housinghomeless families. In particular, this squat wasprompted by the Council’s failure to provideaccommodation for families who had been livingin holiday chalets on the Isle of Sheppey andwho were forced to leave when the chalets wereclosed at the end of the holiday season.This campaign serves as an example of thebroad-based support which squatting was, onoccasion, able to command. A local vicar wasextremely active on their behalf and the KentEvening Post, whilst not actually encouragingpeople to squat, certainly made it easier for thosealready squatting by organising a very successful‘Homeless at Xmas’ appeal for food, toys, cigarettesand furniture for the people in the school andother homeless in the area. Public support wasso strong that Kent County Council turned ablind eye to the occupation and eventuallyagreed to use the school for homeless people.Support for squatting started to come fromunusual quarters. In November 1971 the Cyreniansa charity for the single homeless which hadbecome exasperated with Brighton Council, squattedthree houses.Social workers,probation officers,housing department officials, councillors andchurchmen, unable to help people find somewhereto live, were suggesting squatting to the homeless.In Slough, for example, the Council’s GeneralPurposes Committee chairperson, John Harley,noted in April 1972 that many private flats in thetown were empty. To the homeless he had a clearmessage: ‘My advice is to squat these places. Ifnecessary I will personally assist you.’ Referringto one family squatting in a house withoutservices, he said, ‘I can tell them about some farmore comfortable places.’ 2As well as involving such diverse people, squattingspread to remote places. Although largelyspontaneous in nature and lacking centraldirection or leadership, it became truly national.At the end of September 1972, a group called theOakley, Buckinghamshire, 1972.Oakley Vigilantes was formed in a smallBuckinghamshire village. They warned that if alocal empty house owned by the Ernest CookTrust was not used within a fortnight they wouldsquat it. One can imagine the rushed work at theTrust which enabled it to announce plans for thehouse within the set time limit.There were many such small victories toprove that squatting, or the threat of it, waseffective. During January 1973, 13 squattersmoved into two houses in Belle Vue Road,Colchester. A few weeks later a further 20 peopleoccupied the empty Woods Sports Club premisesand turned it into a spartan People’s CommunityCentre. The local authority was galvanised intoaction, offering some of its empty houses to alocal Christian Action project. But thisconcession was insufficient to halt the spread ofsquatting in the town and by May 1973 therewere around sixty squatters in Colchester. 3Steve, locally born and bred, and working forthe Council on a building site, typified manythousands of people forced to squat out ofdesperation. Unable to find anywhere to live, hehad slept rough since leaving home at 17 and hadspent the previous winter in a beach hut in WestMersea.In 1973-74 he was squatting in Colchester:‘I feel guilty taking over someone else’s property– sure. But it came down to the simple factthat I needed somewhere to sleep – that’s all. Itisn’t an easy life and I don’t know how peoplethink we do it voluntarily. There is a continualoverriding sense of insecurity. I pray as I comehome that there will be a light on in the house soI’ll have another night with a roof over my head.’Steve worked for as much as 88 hours a weekto save the money to buy his own home. He didnot give his full name for fear of losing his job. ‘Ihave come to the conclusion that to get anythingin this world you have to fight. I have only mypride to keep me going. That’s why I must keepmy job.’ 4All sorts of people were being forced into choosingbetween squatting and homelessness: familiesdenied access to council housing or mortgages,students, unemployed people and others on lowincomes, battered women, gays denied the rightto live as they choose, people with unorthodoxlifestyles, ex-offenders fresh out of prison (inColchester, the Senior Probation Officer said thathe and his colleagues could see no alternativebut to suggest squatting to ‘clients’), and manymore. At times, they combined to form unexpectedalliances. The squatters who had erected thebarricades in Islington, for example, consisted ofan anarcho-pacifist commune (The Living Theatre– London) and three working class families.By the end of 1973, there were about 3,000licensed squatters in London and several hundredoutside the capital. But there were an estimated7,000 unlicensed squatters in London and a further4,000 elsewhere (p 230). Each victory won bysquatters, however small, increased the impetustowards further unlicensed squatting, particularlysince licensing arrangements involved the use ofonly a very small proportion of empty dwellings.Squatting speculatorsNot all squatting was in council property. Indeed,many of the more influential struggles of 1972-1974 were in privately-owned property. In mid1972, for example, squatters began moving intoprivately-owned terraced housing in the ParfettStreet area of the East End of London. Afterseveral battles they succeeded in staying formany years, and eventually prompted the councilto buy the houses with the squatters in occupation.(See Chapter 10 for a more detailed account).Olive Morris and Liz Turnbull became the firstsuccessful squatters of private property in Lambethwhen they occupied a flat above a launderettein Railton Road. Successfully fighting off attemptsat illegal eviction,they set an example for hundredsof homeless young people in Brixton and the flatremained squatted for many years. In June 1973.Lambeth Council gave squatters occupyingmaisonettes in Herne Hill support hy agreeing tonegotiate the purchase of the flats which wereowned by Grandiose Properties Ltd (part of theGerson Berger group) without vacant possession.This encouraged other local squatters to occupymillions of pounds worth of the company’sproperty throughout the borough. The BrixtonWomen’s Centre in Railton Road became a focusfor squatting advice and assistance and between1972 and 1975 was responsible for the squattingof 300 empty private dwellings.These campaigns brought squatters into theforefront of struggles against property developersand speculators and they drew immense localsympathy and support. The picture became familiar.A property company intent on obtainingplanning permission to redevelop began to buyup houses in an area,leaving them empty when possibleand thus precipitating the neighbourhood’sdecline. Residents lost heart and the will to fight.Those that could moved out of their own accordand the neighbourhood deteriorated still further.Squatters entered onto the scene taking overempty houses and restoring them. The squatterswere often young, enthusiastic and willing tofight back, providing the backbone to campaignsagainst redevelopment and speculation.Squatters often worked closely with the existinglocal communities. Unity was forged betweensquatters and other local people, for instance, ina long campaign against Prebbles, an estate agentin Islington.Prebbles was one of a number of estateagents playing an active role in the gentrificationof the area. Regular pickets were organisedoutside the Prebbles office and were so successfulthat the company was compelled to seek a courtinjunction banning them. Prebbles was granted atemporary injunction pending a full hearing. Thecase was never brought to court andwaseventuallydropped in 1978. Nevertheless the action haltedthe pickets (after at least one supporter had beenjailed for defying the injunction) and thecampaign against Prebbles failed in its ultimateobjective. It did, however, make speculators morecautious about moving into Islington.The campaigns in Camden against Joe Levy’sproperty company, Stock Conversion, provideanother good example of squatters and otherresidents fighting against speculators together.Without the involvement of squatters, it is likelythat Stock Conversion would have been able toshape two areas, in Camden High Street andTolmers Square respectively to suit its profitmakingmotives.In the sixties Stock Conversion constructedEuston Centre, a massive 500,000 square footMichael Sheridan/ IFLMichael Sheridan/ IFLPaul McNicholls/ Time OutSquatters and other local residents in Islingtonpicket Prebbles estate agents in protest againstproperty speculators, 1974.3233

office development, on a site formerly consistingof low rent working class housing, workshopsand cheap commercial premises. The companyhad made £64 million profit on this developmentby 1973 and started buying property in similarareas with a view to further office developments.In June 1973 Susan Johns and John Rety wereevicted from No 220 Camden High Street wherethey had lived and run an antique shop for 12years. Cromdale Holdings, a subsidiary of StockConversion, had increased the rent from £15 to£60 per week on acquiring No 220, in order toforce them out. The two gave full support to thepeople who squatted their old home in order toprevent what they described as ‘the carve-up ofCamden High Street.’ The building was used bya number of community groups over the nextnine months and became the organising centre ofthe campaign against Stock Conversion’s plans.Impressed by the strength of local support forthe squatters at No 220, Camden Council passeda resolution giving them its backing. In April1974, the police asked the local fire brigade ifthey could borrow ladders in order to get ontothe roof to evict the squatters as the front of theshop had been barricaded with steel bars andiron bedsteads. The Camden Fire Brigade Unionrefused, saying that it would be ‘the first steptowards a police state’. 5 Six bailiffs backed by120 police were eventually sent to carry out theeviction at 5 am one morning and had to use awinch mounted on a car transporter to tear downthe front door. Backing its verbal support, CamdenCouncil provided a nearby shop for the campaign.During the court proceedings for possession,Cromdale Holdings’ representative had claimedthat the company needed immediate possessionin order to relet the premises; yet, straight afterthe eviction the staircase was smashed, wiringand toilets were ripped out and the building wassecurely boarded up. Companies connected withStock Conversion then owned a quarter of CamdenHigh Street and 50 shops in the area were empty.Two weeks after the eviction, the squattersheld a press conference and demonstration. Theymarched up the High Street and, to cheers fromlocal people, reoccupied the building. By the timeSquatters fight property speculators:Left: West London 1973;Centre: Tolmers Square, Camden, 1975;Right: No 220 Camden High Street, Camden, 1974.Peter Smith/ Time OutPedro GeorgeTony Prime/ Camera Pressthe police arrived, squatters were securely insideand a picket patrolled the pavement outside. Afurious representative from Cromdale was toldby the police that it would have to reapply to thecourts for possession. The company had completelyfailed. It had gone through two court cases, twoevictions, suffered intensive bad publicity andachieved nothing. No 220 remained squatted fortwo more years and the campaign eventuallysucceeded in halting Stock Conversion’sredevelopment plans for Camden High Street.In nearby Tolmers Square too, squattersstaved off attempts at eviction by the samecompany and were instrumental in stopping itsplans for a half million square feet office andcommercial development. 6Squatters became increasingly daring in theirchoice of targets. In January 1974, a group ofactivists pulled off a spectacular publicity coupoccupying Centre Point, the best-known emptybuilding in Britain. Their action required monthsof planning, including the infiltration of the firmsupplying security guards and was performedwith almost military precision. It made the frontpage of every newspaper in the country. CentrePoint, empty since its completion in 1963, was agross affront to the homeless and a powerfulexample of the way companies could make vastprofits simply by owning empty office blocks:built for £5 million in 1963, by 1974 Centre Pointwas worth £45-55 million. The activists demandedthat the building be requisitioned. (CamdenCouncil did later attempt to compulsorily purchase24 luxury flats at the rear of Centre Point butafter protracted and costly legal proceedings, theLaw Lords quashed the Council’s CompulsoryPurchase Order in April 1977. Most of the buildingremained empty until 1980.) As well as publicity,the occupiers received a great deal of supportand, when they left the building after two days,they were greeted by a rally of 3,000 people.The success of this ‘propaganda squat’ promptedothers to follow. On the weekend of 17 May,Hillman House, described locally as Coventry’sCentre Point, was occupied by 60 people. Laterthat month a coalition of radicals in Bristol(where the amount of empty office space quadrupledin less than a year) took over an emptyoffice block in Victoria Street and stayed there amonth. Several homeless families were moved inand Bristol Council shortly afterwards put a banon planning permission for new office building.3435

Press AssociationOccupying Centre Point (left) in central London, January 1974. The block owned by Harry Hyams had beenleft empty for 11 years. Emerging from the West End crowds, 80 people with sleeping bags and other essentialequipment are safely inside within 90 seconds. Barricades are erected immediately (below) and a squatterwho got a job as a security guard in order to obtain the uniform, convinces the police that there is no point instorming the building (bottom left). The squatters’ aim is publicity and they plan to leave peacefully afterthree days. Bottom right: Makeshift sleeping arrangements.Press AssocWhen the squatters come out on Sunday afternoon(right), they are greeted by a large crowd ofsupporters (bottom right) with mixed chants of‘well done’ and ‘stay put’. Bottom left: OrganiserRon Bailey is interviewed by TV men.Martin Slavin Martin SlavinCamera Press Martin SlavinPress Association37

Prince of Wales Crescent, Camden, where squattersexperiment with ‘alternative lifestyles’ and differentforms of community organisation. Below: CommunitySupplies, a cheap organic food supplier.Aden KellyLiz JellinekMike GoldwaterChris Steel-PerkinsTaking the whole streetAs well as raising questions about the amount ofhousing available, squatters increasinglychallenged the nature of housing and the qualityof community life. In many towns whole streetswere empty pending redevelopment schemes,and these were gradually occupied creatingsizeable squatting communities. One of the firstwas in the streets surrounding Prince of WalesCrescent in Camden, where by 1972 there were28O mainly young people squatting. One third ofthem had university or college degrees ordiplomas, yet it was far from being a traditionalmiddle class city neighbourhood.Employment patterns were unconventionalwith most people working freelance or doingcasual work to earn money. The average wage in1972 was estimated at £7 per week. Having beenempty for up to seven years the houses werefairly derelict and conditions were primitive.Skills such as wiring or plumbing had to be selftaughtand shared with people less able to do it.The increased leisure time available to peoplewho often chose to live on low incomes enabledthem to do more for themselves. It also allowedpeople to experiment and put ideas into practice.Several squatters started workshops – electronics,engineering, silk-screening, jewellery and carpentry.A derelict site was turned into a park witha sand pit, paddling pool, cafe and treehouses.Musical events and barbecues were held regularlyand two community newspapers were started. Acreche began and unused food was collected fromnearby markets and distributed free.Enterprises sprang up and flourished both insquats and in buildings licensed by CamdenCouncil:•Community Supplies began as a cheaporganic food supplier, where customers weighed,packed and priced their own goods. Demand wasso great that a bulk store was opened servingpeople from all over Britain.•The Institute of Art and Technologyconverted a former dairy into a centre for artistsand craftsmen working in new media.•The Centre for Advanced Television Studiesbegan as a nationwide information centre forvideo users.•The Craft Shop promoted home crafts suchas candle making and tie-dyeing.•The Guild of African Master Drummersmade high quality drums.Other groups which found a home around theCrescent included Airworks (a centre for air structures),the London Film Makers Co-op, LittleSister of Jesus, European Theatre Exchange, Polytantricand Action Space.Almost everyone lived in shared or communalhouses, often because the houses couldn’t easilybe divided into self-contained flats, but sometimesfor more positive reasons. One person enthusiasticallyendorsed communal living as a response to‘the adverse psychological effects ofindividuals living alone – neurosis, depression,alienation – which can in extreme cases lead topsychosis and general personality breakdown.People in this area have learnt from bitterexperience and have set about changing theircircumstances – hence the development ofcommunity spirit. None of the residents have anydesire to return to the isolation of a bedsitter.’ 7There were leaflets about various objectives ofthe community: a ‘decentralised urban selfmanagedcommunity’, a ‘green revolution in thecity’, finding ‘new ways of human interelationships’,and building a ‘new culture from the pieces of theold’. Inevitably such ideals could not be sustained.They were, in essence a middle class luxury, promotedby people who could often retreat to a wellpaidprofession or a comfortable parental home ifthe going got rough. The relaxed atmosphere alsoattracted some people who shared few of the idealsof early Crescent squatters. At times, drug addicts,alcoholics and thieves threatened to overcome thewhole community. Houses were constantlybroken into, local tenants antagonised and thecommunity spirit started to fall apart.In response, squatters started to form their ownforms of self-help community care. The MentalPatients Union was set up and provided a crisiscentre where people with psychological difficultiescould help each other and remain in contact withsympathetic members of the community. Othergroups dealt with drug dependency and a communitywork directory was established to enablethe unemployed to develop new skills and servea community which could not pay commercialrates. A ‘police force’ was established and someimprovement was made. However, the problemscreated by the people with severe psychologicalor social difficulties manifested on occasion bytheir excessive use of drugs or alcohol remainedboth in the Crescent and in later squattingcommunities. The very transience of mostsquatting communities meant that a satisfactorylong term solution on how to deal with theseproblems seldom had time to develop effectively(unlike in Christiania in Denmark (p213) whereafter a number of years extremely successfulforms of self-management have evolved).In December 1973 the Prince of Wales ResidentsAssociation was set up and an attempt made topersuade the Council to shelve its redevelopmentplans and let the community stay to retain andreinforce its identity.‘It is a genuine organic community. Plannersare searching desperately to produce thisphenomenon in new estates, so far withoutsuccess. Prince of Wales Crescent is anexcellent example of what people can do if leftto their own devices.’ 7An alternative plan was drawn up. Housescould be rehabilitated on a self-help basis costingbetween £300 and £3,000 per dwelling comparedwith £9,000 for new build – saving £1/2 million.A further £300,000 could be saved by turning thestreet into open space instead of knocking downhouses to make one. Mixed uses could be allowedto continue instead of providing just housing and‘turning a socially mixed area into anotherdesert-like council development where theinhabitants are socially homogeneous.’ And morepeople would be housed because the densitycould remainat 180 persons per acre instead ofbeing reduced to 125 persons as laid down ingovernment rule books for redevelopment.The squatters suggested that the Council shouldsee the area as an environment for experimentingwith ways of living, and that it should actuallytake a positive interest in its growth. But theCouncil was not up to the challenge and rejectedthe squatters plan and eventually the squatterswere evicted (p65).Squatting communities grew up all overLondon: at Bristol Gardens, Charrington Street,Tolmers Village, Finsbury Park, Longfellow Roadand many other places. A few similar communitiesoccurred outside the capital, too: Hebden Bridge,Bristol, Brighton etc. Each one was differentdepending on its size, the conditions of theproperty, the amount of security, and the peopleattracted to them. Some were made up of peoplefrom predominantly middle class backgrounds;others were almost exclusively working class.Some, like Prince of Wales Crescent, shared ahippy ideology which never truly adapted toovercome social or political problems.And they all invariably changed rapidly, respondingto external and internal pressures. But commonto most was a sense of identity seldom found intowns. People had a sense of living somewherespecial, symbolised by the street carnivals and partieswhich became a regular feature of squattinglife (see p 190). For some people, albeit only asmall minority of squatters, squatting began to bemore than simply finding a roof, it became fun, itoffered new freedoms, a sense of community...almost a way of life in its own right.3839

Extending frontiers and explosive growthThe success of squatting both as a means ofobtaining accommodation and as a more directlypolitical tactic, led to its continuing growthduring 1974 and 1975. Indeed, these were ‘boom’years, with the number of squatters increasingfrom 15,000 at the end of 1973 to an estimated40-50,000 by mid-1975. Though the majoritywere concentrated in inner London, there werefew towns of any size which escaped. In April1974, for example, a group of young people tookover houses in Queens Terrace, Hebden Bridge,Yorkshire. The local council was worried that toomany young people were leaving the town, buthad not accepted that it was partly due tohousing shortage. Councillor Cyril Farrar, theHousing Committee chairperson, opposed lettingthe squatters stay on the grounds that, ‘Once westart to allow squatting, no one’s house will besafe’. 8 However, such inflexible attitudes did notprevent the spread of squatting in Yorkshire, andby August there were squatters in Halifax,Harrogate, Sheffield, Batley, Huddersfield, Leeds,Barnsley, Bradford and many other towns.The existence of squatting often revealed largenumbers of ‘hidden homeless’, people not shownas homeless in official housing statistics. InNorwich, for example, 19 houses were occupied inthe Sandringham Improvement Area in May 1974,housing 63 people, almost all of them families.40Few, if any, would have been officially classifiedas ‘homeless’; they had come from overcrowdedconditions (such as living with parents),expensive or substandard accommodation orfrom short-let rooms, hotels and hostels. Therewere also people for whom local authoritiesaccepted no responsibility at all – the childlessand families from outside Norwich.At that time most councils did not considerwomen fleeing from domestic violence – ‘batteredwives’ – to be homeless. Such women often needsupport and help from others in the sameposition and normal tenure arrangements do notallow much scope for the communal homes whichbest fulfil such requirements. As a result, largenumbers of battered women turned to squattingand many women’s groups took over houses toprovide refuges where women could escape fromtheir violent partners. Squatted houses forbattered women were opened in Manchester inMarch 1974 and, two months later, in Glasgow.The 1975 takeover of the Palm Court Hotel(p196) in Richmond was the best-publicised butthere were several others.Squatting opened up new possibilities forwomen’s groups, enabling them to find premisesfor a variety of activities. Brixton Women’s Centrewas housed in a squat for several years and playeda leading role in the growth of squatting in Lambeth.In Radnor Terrace, South London, a wom-Thirty battered wives and their children escape from overcrowdedconditions at the women’s aid refuge in Chiswickand take over a former four-star hotel in Richmond ownedby Goodhew Developers Ltd who had deliberately left itto rot for three years. The squat lasted from 1975 to 1979.en’s meeting and resource centre operated until1977 and in Mile End women squatted a houseto use it as a nursery.In Lambeth, the East End, Haringey, Bristoland elsewhere, empty buildings were taken overand used as gay centres. Properties were occupied,too, for offices, workshops, meeting rooms andsocial centres for community groups. Artists,carpenters, mechanics and second-hand furnituredealers operated from squatted premises. A varietyof shops and cafes were established in squats anda group of prostitutes took over empty offices inGreek Street, Soho, from which they plied theirtrade. Several community groups squatted derelictplots of land, converting them into playgrounds,communal gardens, and even urban farms.At the beginning of 1975, Cornwall Terrace, ahistoric Nash building overlooking London’s RegentsPark left empty by the Crown Commissioners,was opened up and rapidly filled by over 300people. In North Islington the number of squattersin three blocks of GLC flats on Hornsey Rise roseto about 350. In the East End of London continuingracial violence was forcing Asian families toleave council flats on estates where they wereSyndication Internationaloften the only non-white residents. The Guardiantold of one family’s experiences:‘Abdul Mumin came to Britain in 1963 to workas a tailor’s machinist in East London. It tookhim ten years to save enough money to bringhis wife and children to Britain and within afew months he lost his rented accommodation.Tower Hamlets put the homeless Mumin familyin a Council flat at Constant House, HarrowLane, Poplar, in July 1973. A week later a boyknocked on the door and coolly said, “I don’tlike you coloured people.” Someone else threwan iron bar as the family stood in the doorway.Every night the door was kicked and thewindows hammered. Within a few months theattacks had grown into the smashing ofwindows. One evening, as Mrs Mumin went tothe dustbins, a youth jumped on her back.Another night three men tried to kick thedoor down. Then one of their four childrenopened the door to a caller and two men and awoman barged in. One man knocked MrMumin to the floor and kicked him in the ribs.He was threatened with a knife and abusedbecause of his race. Soon after that a windowwas smashed, paraffin poured through thehole, and the curtains set alight.’ 9After that incident the Mumins finally decided tojoin several hundred other Bengali families whohad already fled council flats for the security ofsquats in the predominantly Asian district ofSpitalfields. They were aided by Tower HamletsSquatters Union and the Bengali Housing ActionGroup which opened up several blocks to copewith the demand. At its height, one of these,Pelham Buildings, had almost 200 familiessquatting in it.A Lambeth Council report in December 1974,identified 333 unlicensed squats in Council property.This figure added to the number of squatsin private and GLC houses, and to those the Councildid not know about, suggests a total of some3-4,000 squatters in Lambeth alone. Similarly, inAugust 1975, Camden Council reported that 176of its properties were occupied by unlicensed squatters.In addition both boroughs had about 1,000people in licensed property. A London BoroughsAssociation survey published in September 1975estimated that there were 20,000 squatters incouncil property in the capital. And this figure didnot include those in GLC and private dwellings.It was not only in London that squatting hadbecome so common. In February 1975, ManchesterCorporation claimed that 130 houses wereJane Brown/Camera PressDavid Hoffmanoccupied by squatters and issued eviction noticesagainst 100. In fact, many squatters in Councilproperty at this time did not receive evictionnotices, indicating that the number of Councilsquats in Manchester was probably in excess of200.Estimates from various parts of the countryare available for this period. 10 For example:•In Bristol there were around 200-300.•In Portsmouth tnere were 80.•In Brighton about 150.•In Guildford there were 50.•In Swansea there were between 60 and 80.•In Cambridge there were 40.•In Leicester there were 100.Press cuttings from 1975 reveal squats in manyremote rural areas, villages and small towns;from Sotterley in East Anglia to Chertsey inSurrey, from St Ives in Cornwall to Stone inStaffordshire and from Shepton Mallet inSomerset to a small farm near Heathrow Airport.Need had begun to assert itself over centuries ofdeference to the rights of property owners.•Bengalis in London’s East End squat together inrundown buildings rather than face racial violence onmore modern estates.

Squatted land and buildings areput to many uses, London, 1974-7.Adam HarveyDavid HoffmanSyndication IntDavid HoffmanNick WatesDavid HoffmanMike WiggAdam HarveyThe TimesNick WatesCaroline LwinCaroline LwinAdam HarveyAden KellyKosta MatheyAden KellyMark GimsonJack LambertCaroline LwinCaroline LwinCaroline LwinMike GoldwaterNick Watescity farmcity farm breeding hens, ducks and rabbits open air music entertainment workshopposter workshoppractice roomwoodwork shopgrowing tomatoesCharles McKeanallotmentsfood co-operativenew religionsplayground under a motorwayJack Lambertadventure playgroundPhilip Wolmuthartist’s studiobakerycheap foodNick WatesVegan restaurantVegan restaurantbanquetaction centrebookshopsculpture studioworkshopinstrument makingDavid Hoffmanjewellery workshopmotorbike repairshopshopwholefood suppliesNick Watesmeeting room4243

KeystoneTony McGrath/ Camera PressLondon ExpressSquatting in style.Left: Squatters purporting to belong to an organisationcalled MUSTARD (Multi-racial Union of Squatters toAlleviate Racial Discrimination!) take over a £200,000house in Notting Hill Gate, 1976.Above: Behind the Nash facade of Cornwall Terrace inLondon’s Regent Park, 300 new residents start a communalkitchen and a nursery. They also organise meditationclasses and concerts in the spacious rooms, 1975.Below: A luxury house in Palace Gardens, West Londonis occupied by members of WOGS (World Organisationof Gracious Squatters) 1976.Right: The Bishops Avenue (‘Millionaire’s Row’),Hampstead where houses left empty by a bankruptproperty company are squatted, 1977.Far right: Living in Bilba’s abandoned depatment storein Kensington High Street, 1977.44PopperfotoMike Goldwater

The Guardian46Salisbury TimesReading Evening PostPress AssociationSurrey CometTown and country squatters.Far left: Condemned millworkers’ cottagesin Hebden Bridge, Yorkshire, 1976.Top left: Garden life in suburbia,Kingston upon Thames, 1974.Second from top: The ‘Wiltshire Wallies’ atStonehenge where they claim God hastold them to set up camp. The Departmentof the Environment say they need itspermission first and soon starts courtproceedings saying they are bad for thetourist trade!Third from top: Commune in a squat inBracknell, Berkshire, 1974.Bottom: Almshouses in Salisbury, 1976.Faced with a student accomodationcrisis, the 1975 National Union ofStudents conference recommends itsmembers to squat – inspiring a racistcartoon from the Times HigherEducation Supplement.Top right: Already evicted three timesfrom council property, this couple had tomove out of a relative’s house because thecouncil claim it is overcrowded. Theyerect this tent on council land nearby. Thecouncil is unmoved and threatens themwith eviction yet again, Mildenhall,Suffolk, 1975.Second from top: Caravan dwellers squaton council land at Rainworth,Nottinghamshire, 1974. People living incaravans, are increasingly forced to squatbecause of the shortage of official sites.Third from top: Squatters pose for theSunday Times in Birmingham, 1976.Bottom and far right: Sumner House,East London, 1974 where 52 of the 64flats are squatted after Tower HamletsCouncil refuses to support a proposal fora tenant co-operative in the block.Although the squatters are rehoused, theflats are gutted and most remainedderelict in 1980. Hundreds of similarflats in the area are squatted but fewsuccessfully make the transition to co-ops(p90).47Michael Ward/ Topix Sally Soames/ Topix Newsphoto Mansfield John Sturrock/ ReportMichael Ward/ Topix

Mounting oppositionProperty owners and the media attack squattingChapter5‘While there is a large pool of empty property, public and private, it isdifficult to see a reduction in squatting. The best that can be expected isto contain it...’(GLC Director of Housing (Management and Maintenance) report 20January 1976 Hg 746).‘There is no question of the Corporation entering into any agreementwith squatters, or negotiating with them, since they are illegal occupiers.’(Public Relations Department, Bristol Corporation, November 1973).‘The high incidence of squatting should not be considered as a “problem”which by definition is capable of sulution, but as a “condition” to bealleviated rather than cured. While society refects the criminalisation ofsquatting and prohibits the use of private force, the practice can never bestopped. Local authorities must, therefore, use a combination ofavoidance and prevention, together with a variety of cures, in order toreduce the incidence. In this combination it is avoidance and preventionwhich lead the way...’(Report by Co-ordinator of Housing, Islington Council, 20 February 1975.)By the end of 1975 unlicensed squatting hadalmost established itself as a routine method offinding housing in the short term. A number ofhousing officials stated in private that squattinghad to be tolerated, quite simply because it wasimpossible to envisage any alternative for theestimated 40-50,000 squatters.The AdvisoryService for Squatters (ASS) reported in a pressrelease that housing aid centres, social servicedepartments, citizens advice bureaux, probationservices and even the police were regularlyreferring people to them. Brixton Women’s Centrereceived as many as 30-40 referrals in one weekfrom Lambeth Social Services Department.Official attitudes toward squatting were, however,paradoxical. While there was often a measureof acceptance of squatting as inescapable, evennecessary, there was also strong determination tobring it under control. As an officer’s report inNovember 1974 to Lambeth Council’s HousingCommittee put it: ‘The Council is faced with asituation which is clearly out of control and theneed is to bring it under control as quickly aspossible.’Thus, the explosive growth of squattingduring 1974-75 was accompanied by an immenseincrease in opposition unparalleled since 1969.As most squatting took place in council property,the most vociferous opposition tended to comefrom local authorities. They were generally evenless willing to negotiate with the ‘new wave’ ofunlicensed squatters than they had been withfamily squatting groups particularly as there werenow more young, single, and sometimes unorthodox,people squatting. Most councils remainedunwilling to negotiate with either type fearingthat to ‘give in’ would cause a flood of ‘queuejumpers’ to descend on their area in search ofhousing. Everywhere that there was squatting,at least one local councillor would warn of thedanger of becoming a ‘soft touch’ for squatters. Apolicy of immediate eviction was preferred inmost areas.The Labour leader of Tower Hamlets in EastLondon, Paul Beasley, echoed the attitude ofmany councillors when through the local paper,he declared ‘all out war on squatters’ in February1975; ‘We are not going to be taken for a ride; wehave had enough and we are bloody well notgoing to have any more.’ 1Squatting was a headache for councillors andNewsline4849Eviction at Bramley Road, North Kensington, 19 April 1977

Evictionall overEnglandUnion Row, KentKentish Gazette 1974Elephant and Castle Sevenoaks BatterseaBatterseaMartin Slavin 1973Eastcote (below)Mike GoldwaterLaurie Sparham/ IFL 1979CamdenWestminster (below)Middlesex County Press 1975Sevenoaks Chronicle 1975Adam Harvey 1978Regents ParkLondon Express 1975Kendal (below)Westmorland Gazette 1974CamdenSomerset (below)Tony SleepBristol United Press 1974officers; it was exposing the inadequacies of localauthority housing programmes and was seen asa threat to some of the established institutions ofhousing. A Department of the Environment(DOE) consultation paper put it this way:‘Squatting raises the wider and very real problemof the extent to which local authoritiesare having their position, as elected bodiesanswerable to the general electorate,undermined. To the extent that squatters areattempting to buck the system, they clearlycall into question the traditional democraticbasis of current procedures, founded on therule of law and its ordered administration.’ 2Above all, squatting was seen as a threat tothat basic pinion of council bureaucracy — thehousing waiting list. In effect, squatters havegenerally opted out of, or been excluded from, thehousing queue as surveys have consistently shown( p 233). They have made use of properties thatwould otherwise have been empty and have nottaken over houses intended for people on waitinglists. For the vast majority of people whose nameswere on it, the waiting list had become preciselythat – a list upon which you waited . . . and waited . . .and waited. Many councils simply could not copewith the record number of people looking to themfor homes. Unwilling to call for the structuralsocial changes needed to supply housing foreveryone, they made excuses for their failure toact, and instead attempted to clamp down uponpeople who challenged this failure by squatting.The DOE attempted in 1975 to ‘get an agreedapproach to the squatting problem by localhousing authorities and the Department, and todevelop a joint policy.’ 2 But no such policymaterialised. Instead councils employed avariety of techniques in their efforts to prevent,control or halt squatting and during 1973-76these were tested and refined in various areas byboth Labour and Conservative administrations.The Labour-controlled GLC’s policy was typicalof many authorities. In June 1974 it announcedthe first of several ‘new policies’ towards squatters.It intended to be ‘humane but firm’ andexpressed its determination that squatters shouldnot mess up its plans any longer. A GLC reportestimated that 2,000 squatters were occupying390 GLC dwellings. 3 ‘Any attempt to mount a driveagainst all squatters at one time would be whollybeyond the present resources’,” reported theHead of the Housing Department and thus the51Bailiff’s Song (Dedicated to all opressed Bailiffs)There’s something about a BailiffThere’s something about a BailiffThere’s something about a BailiffThat is BAD BAD BADHis job is not his hobbyIt’s banned by the Union lobbyAnd even the Britiish bobby finds it SAD SAD SADIf only he knew what I knowIf only he knew what I knowIf only he knew what I knowIf he KNEW KNEW KNEWHe’d hand in his resignationWithout any hesitationAnd claim for compensation as his DUE DUE DUEBut a bailiff never guessesHow much the British press isA medium that suppressesWhat is TRUE TRUE TRUEThat a Bailiff would go pale if –That he’d get ten years in gaol if –That he’d never get out on bail if –People KNEW KNEW KNEWBailiffs inBatterseaMike Goldwater 1977

Union Place CollectiveCorrugation Street No.5Sevenoaks Chronicle 1975Thousands of habitable houses are vandalisedby owners to stop squtters using them.Top left: Lambeth Council raises the roof inSt Agnes Place, 1976.Bottom left: Police protection for the wreckers,Lambeth, 1976.Middle: Westminster Council gets to work ona house in Bravington Road, 1977.Left: Without waiting for the departure of theelderly tenants, Lambeth’s workmen startdemolition at Radnor Terrace, 1977.Below left and centre: Ritchie House, HornseyRise in the hands of the Greater LondonCouncil, 1975.Below right: Westminster Council smashes upSandringham Flats in Charing Cross Roadin 1973 only to repair them two years later ata cost of £400,000.Covent Garden Community AssociationSquatters Handbook 1978‘humane’ aspect of the policy was that peoplealready squatting would be allowed to remainuntil the buildings were needed. But this did notseem to happen in practice and many squattersall over London were evicted without offers ofalternative accommodation and frequently wellbefore the buildings were needed for development.In the East End, for instance, on Mercer’sEstate, Stepney, there were 69 squatted flats aswell as 177 empty ones – whose occupants facedeviction under the new GLC policy. For threeyears tenants had slowly been moved out inpreparation for demolition, but the DOE thenimposed a preservation order on the flats and sonew plans had to be drawn up.Yet the GLC went through with this unnecessaryeviction making a complete mockery of thestatement by its Housing Committee chairperson,Gladys Dimson, that: ‘Our policy is to use everypossible empty house awaiting redevelopment.’The ‘firm’ aspect of the GLC’s policy involvedtightening security on empty houses to preventany further squatting. Boarding up houses wasnot proving successful as a deterrent and theGLC resorted to gutting, a term used for ‘rippingup floorboards, knocking out windows, takingWestminster Empty Property Action GroupDavid HoffmanNick Watesdown internal doors, moving or destroyingsanitary fittings, etc.’ 5 The ‘etc’ in the statementactually concealed the most objectionable partsof an already objectionable practice e g pouringconcrete down lavatory basins or drains, sawingthrough support joists and breaking roof tiling.Other public authorities also resorted to gutting.The Crown Commissioners not only smashedwashbasins and lavatory bowls but welded metalwindows shut. Although squatters proved adept52 53

Time OutGutting by Quadrant Housing Association, Crystal Palace, 1973 (above). Gutting by Brent Area Health Authority, Brondesbury, 1979 (below).RayMike WiggGutting by Redbridge Council, Lockwood Road, 1979 (above). Lambeth, 1977 (below). Nick Wates

On ‘instructions’ from West Glamorgan Council,electricity board workmen cut supplies to houses inOystermoulh Road, Swansea, even though the squattershad paid their bills, 1974.at repairing gutted houses, this municipalvandalism was responsible for the destruction ofthousands of useable homes.Councils also increased harassment ofsquatters through gas and electricity cut-offstaking advantage of legal confusion on the issue(p. 162 ). Bengali squatters in the East Endsuffered particularly through gas supplies beingdisconnected in properties where gas was theonly safe form of power for heating or cooking asthe electrical wiring was unable to carry highloads. In 1973 the GLC refused the LondonElectricity Board access to houses in CharringtonStreet, Kings Cross, to prevent squattersobtaining a power supply. It was a tactic employedsuccessfully again and again by property ownersas an effective form of back-door eviction.In Bristol, for example, it was used successfullyby both private owners and the local authority.Squatting first occurred in Bristol in October 1972,when four houses owned by a company were occupied.The company instructed the electricity boardnot to connect electricity supplies, and the coldnessof winter helped minimise resistance to eviction.Later, Bristol Council used the same tactic againstover 100 people squatting in houses due to bedemolished for a new road scheme in AshleyRoad. The denial of electricity supplies againreduced the will of the squatters to fight eviction.Squatters in several areas attempted to compeltheir local gas and electricity boards to providesupplies by appealing to the Magistrates Court andin Bristol, squatters went to the High Court. Butall such cases were lost by the squatters and thechances of obtaining supplies of services variedgreatly from area to area depending on the attitudeof the local boards and the owners of the squattedproperties. Minister of Energy Tony Benn statedin Parliament in 1975 that squatters would betreated the same as any other occupiers 6 but inspite of this property owners continued to be ableto deny them gas and electricity supplies.Indeed, the DOE, three months before Bonn’sstatement, had suggested that to deter squattersit ‘would be willing to approach statutoryundertakings centrally, as a supplement to localapproaches by the local authorities to the boardsin their areas, to establish that they would beready to consider not making supplies availableto houses notified to them by a local authority.’ 7A variety of other attempts were made torepress squatting through use of the law.Bradford City Council, for example, triedunsuccessfully to get damages for trespass, costsfor ‘use and occupation’ (which amounted to rent)and other injunctions restraining namedindividuals from squatting. 8 Other authorities,especially outside London, where squatters moreoften had no legal advice or support, tried othertactics like applying for large sums of money incosts against squatters when they obtainedpossession orders. Bath City Council threatenedsquatters in an old stone cottage which had beencondemned as ‘unfit for human habitation’ that ifthey did not leave they would be liable to fines of£100 – plus £20 per every day they remained inthe premises – under public health legislation.The idea that one could be evicted for the sake ofone’s own health added a bizarre twist.South Wales Evening PostThere were cases of children of squatters beingrefused places at local schools and of squattersbeing denied access to the refuse collection service.In 1973 Camden Council even tried to bansquatters from using library facilities by issuinga directive instructing staff that squatters werenot classed as ‘residents’ and were therefore notentitled to borrow books. 9 Attempts were made toprevent squatters obtaining advice from councilaidedadvice groups. In June 1976, for instance,Holloway Housing Aid Centre received a renewalof its £17,000 grant from Islington Council onlyon condition that it guaranteed not to assistsquatters. Islington Council in fact attempted todisguise its empty property by putting up curtainsin windows. Then, having decided that ‘squattinginvasions of Islington’ were being organised by‘certain notorious persons’, considered, in February1975, taking out injunctions stopping these peoplefrom trespassing in Council property. Thisaddition to the arsenal of anti-squatting measureswas only rejected when Islington realised thatthe ‘notorious persons’ would have to be suppliedwith complete lists of empty Council property orotherwise they could claim to be unaware whenthey were in breach of the injunction. 10Council responses were cynical in the extreme.To lower squatters’ public status, housing departmentswould sometimes claim that squatted houseswere just about to be let. Squatters were thereforeseen to be creating hardship, and quite often leftvoluntarily. On one occasion in 1975 CalderdaleHousing Department allocated a house in RoyalTerrace, Hebden Bridge, to a woman and herthree children ten minutes after hearing that ithad been squatted. The flat had been empty for ayear and a half. Six months previously the samewoman had asked the Council if she could livethere and had been told it was not for letting. Infact, the squatters moved out to make way forher but she did not take up the offer. (Some ofthe houses in that street were still empty in 1980.)One of the most ironic deterrents was dreamtup by Conservative-controlled Brighton which hadmaintained a tough line, involving the immediateeviction of all squatters, since 1969. In the summerof 1973, a new campaign began in the town andthe Council, echoing the blinkered assessment ofthe Brighton Evening Argus that ‘squatting is asocial disease which breaks out at intervals’, introduceda new punishment. Eugenia Griffin, andher five-year-old son, who had been sleeping on thebeach before squatting, were not only evicted butalso struck off the housing waiting list.Banning squatters from waiting lists becamequite a common tactic, the hypocrisy of whichwas illustrated in Southwark, South London, in1976. On 8 March, the Senior Lettings Officer ofthe Council wrote to a Mr Orchard as follows:‘With reference to your application for housingassistance, it is observed that you are illegallysquatting ... In view of this irregularity, it willnot be possible to place your name on thehousing waiting list and you are advised tovacate immediately, since only in the event ofyour being able to find alternativeaccommodation within the London Borough ofSouthwark will you be able to register withthis authority for alternative accommodation.’A similar letter was sent to Kathleen Hoey,her husband and their children on 29 October.Yet only the previous day, a social worker in thesame Council had written to the Camberwellsquatting group to which Mr Orchard and theHoeys belonged as follows:‘This is to introduce Colin Myton who urgentlyneeds accommodation. He is staying with friendsat the moment but must leave immediately. Ihope you can help.’Cops and squattersThe police, under heavy pressure from propertyowners, sometimes attempted to bring criminalcharges against squatters, particularly in smalltowns. In July 1975, for example, three squatters inLancashire were charged under the 1824 VagrancyAct with ‘wandering abroad, lodging in an unoccupiedbuilding, failing to give a good account ofthemselves and failing to apply for accommodationwhen directed to a reasonable place of shelter’.More commonly, charges of criminal damage ortheft were laid, although provided that squattersVillain No. 26had not actually taken or damaged anything inentering premises, these were often defeated incourt. Nonetheless, the eagerness with whichmany police officers sought possible charges wasindicative of their hostile attitude to squatters.Police in Twickenham, Surrey, took the unprecedentedstep of announcing figures showing howmany squatters had been arrested over a certainperiod. These figures were not even a truereflection of the level of crime among squattersas they related to arrests not convictions.Needless to say similar figures relating to counciltenants or owner-occupiers were not produced.The police harassed squatters, too, throughraids in search of drugs or, on occasion, even bomband firearms (p 127). The number of raids and thenumber of police involved was disproportionate inrelation to the number of drug-taking squatters.For instance, in the same week in September1977 80-strong police contingents, spearheadedby the Special Patrol Group raided the squattedElizabeth Garrett Anderson maternity home inHampstead, North London 11 and squatted housesin Little Venice, West London, both early in themorning. At the maternity home, the policekicked down almost every door in the building,including one which fell on top of a 58-year-oldwoman, causing a face wound which needed fourstitches. Eleven of the 40 people living in thesquat were arrested but only three were actuallycharged all for possession of small amounts ofcannabis. In Little Venice, people who did not getout of bed immediately also had their doorskicked down but no one was arrested.The role of the police in drug raids on squattedpremises had less to do with maintenance of lawand order than with intimidation. Magistrateshanded over warrants to search squats for drugswithout question and the police often tookadvantage of the lack of public sympathy forsquatters by treating them as they liked. When theSPG kicked down the door to a squatted flat inEmmalisa Court, Islington, during a drugs raid in1975, they were asked why they had not knockedfirst. The answer was: ‘It’s more fun this way.’In addition there was a marked lack of intereston the part of police when squatters themselveswere victims of crime. During the summer of 1976Bengali squats in the East End were firebombed,as were squatted houses in other parts of London– West Hampstead, Brent and Kentish Town. No220 Camden High Street which was being usedas a base by community groups came underharassment from the National Front and on oneoccasion a shotgun was fired through the window.The North London Gay Centre, a squatted housein Finsbury Park was attacked by a bottlethrowinggang of NF youths. These are just a fewexamples of incidents against squatters whichwere not effectively investigated by the police.The covert police attitude appeared to be thatsquatters were ‘fair game’ and not entitled toprotection of the law because they had putthemselves outside it by squatting in the firstplace. When it was arranged for squatters inCamden to give lectures on squatting to the localforce to increase ‘understanding’, eight policemencomplained in a letter to the police magazine, TheJob: ‘The obvious continuation of this policy mustbe that within the foreseeable future we shall belectured by thieves, prostitutes and the like.’ 12In the courts, a series of regressive rulingseroded loopholes that had been used overprevious years (Chapter 14 details this gradualerosion of the law). Possession orders could now,in theory, be obtained in as little as a week butin practice the courts are always so clogged upthat generally they took several weeks. Moresignificantly, possession orders could now be usedagainst unnamed occupants, preventing squatswoppingand they could not be suspendedwithout the owner’s consent. It was also ruledthat it was legal, if inadvisable, for an owner toevict without a court order.The tighter legal context made it increasinglydifficult to mount an effective defence to a posessionorder in court but this did not satisfy manyopponents of squatting for whom substantiallegal reforms seemed long overdue. Since 1971,the Law Commission had been working on areview of the criminal law with the brief toreframe the law relating to trespass. In 1974 theLaw Commission published a proposal that anyact of trespass should be made illegal, once thetrespasser had been asked to leave. In response,the Campaign Against a Criminal Trespass Law(CACTL) was set up by All London Squatters (p87). After much opposition to the proposals, bothfrom CACTL and from diverse organisationsoutside the squatting movement, ranging fromthe police to the trade union movement, the LawCommission reported again in 1976 with lessDraconian proposals that were to makesquatting more difficult but not illegal (pp 161-2).5657

Trouble With NeighboursNot all hostility towards squatters emanatedfrom property owners, and on several occasionscouncils evicted squatters because they claimedto be under strong pressure from local residentswho accused the squatters of causing a nuisance. 13There is a joke about squatters, current indifferent forms in several countries. Residents ina neighbourhood are supposed to have complainedabout noise from squatted houses keeping themawake late into the night. The squatters arereputed to have said in reply that the neighbourswoke them up early in the morning by revvingtheir car engines as they left for work.It is a humorous tale not entirely devoid oftruth. The joke was almost mirrored by events inAugust 1974 in Deal, Kent, where residentscomplained about cars revving up and doorsslamming late at night. They blamed it on theyoung long-haired squatters who had moved intothe street. The local paper quoted squatters assaying: ‘We don’t have cars. The other morningwe were woken up by a neighbour telling us tostop the noise. We had been asleep until then’. 14Normal tenure patterns tend to segregatedifferent classes and types of people. Squattinghas often broken down these divisions enablingworking class people to live in wealthyneighbourhoods or young single people to live inareas of council housing normally restricted tothe elderly or families with children. This hasresulted in occasional clashes of lifestyle as atGrosvenor Road in Twickenham.Squatters first moved into the street in October1972. Bovis, the building firm, had acquired over20 properties in the area for development but didnot have any immediate plans. After the arrivalof the first squatters, the company decided to letLondon and Quadrant Housing Association useall the empty homes. But the Association was completelyunprepared to receive 20 dilapidated semiguttedhouses, so that over the next few monthsmore unlicensed squatters moved in. By April1973, the character of this affluent and spaciousstreet had been totally altered by the ‘invasion’of over 100 squatters. Meanwhile, Alderman Hall,the Leader of Conservative-controlled RichmondCouncil, and Housing Committee ChairpersonGeorge Tremlett, organised a campaign to get thesquatters evicted. They were encouraged in pursuitof this aim by the fact that two LabourCouncillors had given support and encouragementto the squatters. Tremlett accused Labour councillorLady Connor of encouraging ‘riff-raff into theborough and warned: ‘The borough is fast developinga cancer in its midst, a cancer that coulddangerously pollute the quality of our life andthe moral well-being of our children.’ 15 (Ironically,in October 1977, then GLC Housing Chairperson,George Tremlett gave licences to over 5,000squatters in GLC property under an amnesty.)What was this cancer? The Richmond andTwickenham Times published its answer in afanciful article in April 1973 under the heading,‘GARDEN OF EDEN HIPPIES SPREAD WAVEOF TERROR’. Hippies, according to a few unnamedlocal residents, had ‘turned day into night’ withwild parties going on all night in a huge communalgarden: ‘Young revellers danced naked to the musicof live groups’; the area was ‘a hotbed of drugs’;the squatters had an ‘elaborate police warningsystem’, consisting of a scout near the policestation blowing a whistle, the sound being pickedup by a bugler in a tree who immediately relaysthe alarm. The residents the paper claimed tohave interviewed were said to be so terrorised bysquatters that they were afraid to give their names.What had happened, as in other parts of thecountry both then and since, was that among thesquatters there were a minority of anti-socialpeople who showed as little respect for theirneighbours’ way of life as the neighbours did fortheirs. The ethic of tolerance and non-interference,so often prevalent amongst squatters, made itdifficult for the ‘community’ of squatters to try tocontrol the undesirable elements. As a group thesquatters appeared different to other residents.They moved into an area as it was declining andrather than their presence being seen assymptomatic of that decline, it became seen asthe cause of it. In addition, some residents haddeveloped a sense of outrage at the idea of peopleliving rent-free while they were paying highrents in similar houses nearby.Rumours circulated among residents aboutsquatters and were perpetuated by the lack ofsocial contact between the two groups. The truthgot distorted and lies were believed. Every pieceof rubbish dumped in the street and every cardoor slammed late at night was blamed on squatters.What began as the residents’ concern overthe deterioration of the area, turned into resentmentagainst squatters who became the scapegoatsfor everything wrong with central Twickenham.The mobilisation of that resentment wasnot spontaneous and its direction against thesquatters rather than the developers was largelydetermined by the intervention of local worthieslike Hall and Tremlett and the press.Events in Twickenham in 1973 are an exampleof how the stereotyped image of squatters cancarry more weight than the facts. The squatterwas seen as single, unemployed, lazy and fromoutside Twickenham. Yet a survey of 18 housesin September 1973 found: that there were 16children squatting as well as 112 adults; that 61per cent of the adults were working and only 10per cent had not worked since moving into thesquat; and that while 12 months earlier therehad been no squats, 67 per cent of the squattershad lived in Twickenham for over a year and 13per cent had lived there for over 15 years. 16During 1973, conflict between squatters andother local people in Stepney, East London, led toseveral nasty incidents. Squatters had theirwindows smashed and were subjected to variousforms of harassment including physical violence.Houses from which squatters had been evictedand which were not due for immediatedemolition were set on fire by local people toprevent other squatters moving in.In Camden, too, conflict erupted in violence ona few occasions. On 19 April 1973, local ‘vigilantes’threw out squatters from No 35 Marsden Street,the only house in the road with a bathroom.Camden Council had stated that it intended touse the house for a family off the waiting list butafter the squatters had gone, Camden’s first andonly act was to tin up the windows and doors. Afew weeks later the Francis family who lived nextdoor and who had been prominent in kicking outthe squatters apparently had a change of heart.They issued a statement saying that they hadbeen mis-led by the Council and that in futurethey would work alongside squatters to fight badhousing. But the squatters in this particular casemust have been unusually patient and determinedand the Francis family particularly open todiscussion and argument. Very often the dividebetween squatters and neighbours has been tooirrational and wide to allow for any conciliation.When squatters move into a street they are onpublic trial. They are observed in a way that few‘legitimate’ occupiers ever experience, and theirevery action is noted and commented upon. Theywalk a knife-edge between acceptance (andsupport) and hostility (and opposition). By 1975,a growing number of squatters were on thewrong side of that edge. Their failure to takesufficient account of the feelings of neighbours,whether reasonable or not, was increasinglydamaging to their cause.Media mythsWhat really undermined the basis of support forsquatters was a vicious and systematic campaignagainst them conducted by the press and helped,at times, by various politicians and otherinterested parties.At the beginning of 1975, angered by theresistance of squatters, particularly in ElginAvenue, West London, and unwilling to give in todemands for rehousing, the GLC organised a pressconference to expose ‘smash and grab’ squatters.This was a ‘new breed’ of squatter – allegedlyholding up redevelopment schemes by refusing tomove out, taking over houses and flats meant forpeople off the waiting list and damaging property.To support the last point the GLC producedphotographs of damage, said to have been doneby squatters, to new property in Westminster.These allegations, based on a few isolatedincidents, received widespread coverage and setthe tone for the whole year. During the summer,anti-squatter hysteria reached new heights.As in 1969, it was the Sunday People which ledthe way, with a series of three articles, publishedin consecutive weeks in June, containing all theclassic ingredients of sensationalism:‘An Englishman’s home used to be his castle...but today he stands a good chance of havingit taken over by Britain’s growing army ofsquatters. It used to be the long-vacantpremises of property speculators that werethe targets of the live-for-nothing invaders.Now it’s ANYONE’S home . . . even a familycoming back from holiday can find itself lockedout, with strangers in occupation. Squatting,1975, is highly organised, nationwide,spreading rapidly - and DANGEROUS.’ 17The articles painted a picture of a sinister, sophisticatedand unscrupulous squatting movement,equipped with its own legal services, radio station,newspapers, estate agency, police force and healthservice. Eager to take over any dwelling, whetherempty or not, the squatters were portrayed ashardened political militants who lived rent-freeon social security handouts, using the homelessfor their own ends. Upper-class or universityeducatedsquatters were given particular attentionas were two ‘glamorous, polished’ women squattingin Cheltenham. The articles emphasised violence(resisting eviction), squalor (the condition ofsquatted properties), drugs (allegedly usedregularly in squats), and even sex (one beingheaded ‘How a Naked Blonde Beat the Bailiffs’).One month later, The Times letters columnbecame the focus for more damaging and moreinfluential allegations against squatters. On 11July 1975, a letter was published from a MissElizabeth Harper writing from an address inNorthumberland who claimed she had just‘had the appalling experience of turningsquatters out of our home in Kensington, leftlocked and secure three weeks earlier. Thesquatters arrogantly assumed the right tobreak in, to live in our home with their dogs,to sleep in our beds in our sheets, to daubcrude drawings in black on our walls, to useour food, light, heat and telephone, to steal£300 worth of antique furniture and above allto dispose of all our treasured possessions.’According to Miss Harper, the police hadrefused to take any action and she warned that ifthe police continued to turn a blind eye, manyTimes readers could return from holiday to findtheir homes squatted.Three weeks later, a letter was published fromthe Metropolitan Police Solicitor which pointedout that the story set out in Miss Harper’s letter‘was not in accordance with the facts’ on policerecords. Amongst other things, ‘Miss Harper’ wasin fact a Mrs Such who claimed to be a barrister,who had not been on holiday and whose house inKensington was up for sale. (A Frederick Such,presumably Miss Harper’s husband, was residentat the same address in Northumberland and practicedas a barrister in Newcastle.) In other words,it was not her ‘home’. In addition, when policeofficers had gone to the house and told the squattersthe house was occupied, they left ‘withoutany incident occurring’. The telephone which thesquatters had allegedly used had been previouslydisconnected. The Police Solicitor commented:‘I think you will agree that the facts I have set out...present a very different picture from the factsset out in the letter to The Times and that theletter is, to say the least, disingenuous.’ 18 In lesspolite terms, she was lying. (When contacted bythe press, Mrs Such declined to comment on MrLane’s letter.)But the damage had been done. In the interveningthree weeks, there had been a spate of letters,articles and editorials condemning squatting anddemanding tough legislation. Three days after thepublication of the Harper letter, another oneappeared from the Labour Chairperson of the GLCHousing Management Committee, Tony Judge.After stating ‘Miss Elizabeth Harper’s letter rightlydrew attention to the illegal behaviour of squatterswho invade private homes and the reluctanceof the police to take action against them’, Judgewent on to claim that squatters in Elgin Avenuehad held up a GLC housing development, designedfor people in ‘real need’, for a year, and that the‘cost to the public had been incredibly high’. Afterdescribing them as ‘worthless and articulatescroungers whom . . . the country has no conceivableduty to house’, it concluded: ‘It is past time wecleared up the absurdities in the law to reassertthe rights of owners, be they public or private.’ 19The next day, the Under-Sheriff of London,Alistair Black, gave an account in The Times of theproblems faced by his officers under the currentlaw due to the sophistication of squatters’ methodsof defence: ‘In our view, if effective enforcementprocedures are available with a sanction of arrestand possible imprisonment, the scourge of thesquatter will be removed from the already overtroubledand over-burdened housing scene. 20Much of the press coverage relied on the ‘facts’as stated in the Harper letter to assert thatsquatters were now taking over people’s homeswhile they were on holiday, or even out shopping,and indeed this became a widely believed myth.And despite the fact that there were no verifiedcases of this occurring (p 231) – and that the policeconfirmed they would intervene if it ever did –some astute businessmen even offered insurancepolicies against the possibility. Lloyds, for instance,offered full cover of £5,000 including the cost ofalternative accommodation and legal fees for £5a year, and many other organisations includingthe Automobile Association introduced similarschemes. It was an easy way to make money. Adetailed study of press coverage found that thenumber of column inches per day rose dramaticallyduring 1975 and that there was a substantial5859

increase of ‘anti-squatting’ articles as against ‘prosquatting’and ‘neutral’ ones. 21 Coverage focusedon five typical representations of squatters.• Deviants in lifestyle, political views,attitudes or behaviour• Queue jumpers preventing ‘genuine’ peoplefrom being housed• Parasites who cost the ratepayers money• Cheeky and greedy people indulging in alifestyle which is the prerogative of theproperty-owning rich (by occupying mansionsand luxury homes)•A danger to the mortgaged middle class (byoccupying their homes)There were frequent calls for tougher legalmeasures. The Times, for example, editorialised:‘. . . it has become increasingly clear that theact of squatting is no longer carried out by, oron behalf of deprived and homeless people.The new generation of squatters are not byany test poor (or if they are, they need not be).They are usually articulate and sophisticated,and their motives are often cynical in theextreme. At best they are people whose purposeis to live cheaply at other people’s expense.But many of them are motivated politically.Their aim is not to improve the lot of thehomeless (indeed, by their action they areachieving precisely the opposite) but to makepolitical points about the concept of privateproperty, the capitalist system and so on.What is particularly disturbing, ascorrespondence to The Times over the pastweek has shown, is that the position is gettingworse. No longer content with taking overempty properties, some have taken tosquatting in obviously occupied houses. Whatis needed is a law aimed specifically at illegalsquatters . The government should urgentlyconsider bringing in such legislation.’ 22An editorial in the Daily Telegraph even wentso far as to say that squatting was a direct threatto the survival of society and described how‘innumerable houses up and down the countryare now in illegal occupation by organisedgangs of thugs layabouts and revolutionaryfanatics. . In reality the motive for most ofthis squatting is either political – a settledpurpose of subverting public order – or simplegreed and aggression.’ 23The same views were echoed throughout thepopular papers, which vied with each other for1975: A collection of sensationalism, pompous ignoranceand downright lies from politicians and journalists.6061

the most alarming or sinister ‘stories’. The DailyMail decided that‘Many thousands – in all probability themajority – of squatters ... are freeloaders andlayabouts . . . Strong laws are needed to preventthe forces of anarchy which are underminingthe democratic processes of our country.’ 24And a London Evening News ‘investigation’culminated with this editorial comment:‘An Evening News investigation has vividlyrevealed the true face of the new breed ofsquatters who seem to have taken over CentralLondon. And what a nasty face it turns out to be.Many of them are foreign scroungers here for thesocial security and free accommodation. . . It isno good the government waiting for the LawCommission report before amending the law todeal with these housing bandits. By the timeMPs get back from their summer holidays, howmany more of the world’s waifs and strays willbe enjoying their free stays in London?’ 25Watford EveningEcho 5.4.1974Effect of media imageSome MPs did, in fact, respond to this mediaonslaught. At its height a number of MPs calledupon the government to take immediate actionagainst squatters. A Commons motion tabled byConservative Hugh Rossi on 17 July, 1975, calledfor legislation making it an offence to squat. Onehundred and fifteen MPs signed it and at leasttwo attempted to introduce Private Member’sBills on similar lines during the summer.In reality, as several surveys show (pp 230-3),squatters were totally unlike the media’spresentation of them.• The vast majority of squatters improvedtheir properties rather than damaged them.• Squatters did not take over other people’shomes while they were out.• Squatters rarely prevented people in greaterneed from being housed because most squattedhouses were not intended for immediate use.• And in cases where squatters were accusedof trying to hold up development schemes, thisaction was usually part of a wider campaignagainst anti-social developments.Anyway squatters could easily be evictedthrough the courts when property was requiredand such delays were insignificant in comparisonwith even the ordinary delays common to largedevelopment schemes. For example, in ElginAvenue where Tony Judge had claimed thatsquatters held up development work for 12months, building work did not start for sevenmonths after the squatters eventually moved out.While there undoubtedly were isolated cases ofsquatters damaging property, taking drugs andbeing ‘revolutionary fanatics’, ‘foreigners’,‘articulate scroungers’, ‘upper class’ and so on,the vast majority of squatters did not fit thesemythical media stereotypes.In the desperate search for sensationalism, thepress further reinforced these myths in the publicmind. One of the most malicious stories appearedlong after the summer 1975 coverage had peteredout. The London Evening News headlined a story,‘SQUATTERS WON’T QUIT CRASH WIDOW’SHOME’. It began with the sentence ‘Twosquatters who have deprived a Moorgate tubedisaster victim of a new home, today refused toget out.’ 26 A subsequent investigation showedthat the woman was not a Moorgate crash victimbut had been hurt in another tube accident sixyears ago. Nor had she been offered a ‘new’ home– it was a poor standard prefab, on a site wherethere were numerous other empty prefabs. Thesquatters had stressed their willingness to moveinto one of these to make way for her. Finally, thesquatters had a small child and thus the localCouncil had a duty to house them.The images conjured up by the media had aneffect on all squatters. Neighbours who had previouslybeen helpful or ambivalent became hostile.Daily Telegraph 11.9.1975Property owners organise a seminar to learn how todeal with squatting and occupations, 1975.Children who lived in squats were picked on orostracised by other children at school, and knownsquats were ‘forgotten’ by refuse collectors (thusfuelling the myth that squatters lived insqualor). Monica Ferman, secretary of FairhazelTenants Association in Camden, described howone tenant had, by mid-1975, ‘given up almost allforms of work and relaxation, as an obsessionwith squatters had taken over his life’. Thetenant once spotted‘an unfamiliar pushchair standing outside hisbuilding. Purple with fury ... he rushed intothe back garden dustbins with the pushchair.Much soothed by this positive gesture, hewent upstairs to join his family. A minutelater our tenant shot out of the house again toretrieve the pushchair, and he made it just intime to help his wife’s best friend tuck up hertwo-year-old toddler and wave them away.’ 27People with little direct experience of squattersdeveloped wild ideas about their lifestyle. OneWandsworth resident wrote in the local paper‘They are in the bingo halls as soon as the doorsopen; also the betting shops and have a taxi totake them. The Council encourage them byhanding out keys to enter these flats and houses.It is about time something was done about it.’ 28Private property owners became more confidentin dealing with squatters. With the possibility ofbad publicity largely dissipated, wasteful and harshpolicies could be implemented with little fear ofpublic disapproval. In July 1976, for instance, 50people were forced out of the squatted CumberlandHotel, Earls Court, by 15 workmen with fourAlsatians. Dispensing with such niceties as a possessionorder, the owner intruded the workmen toboard up all windows and doors. Faced with thechoice of leaving or being incarcerated, the squatterschose to move on. In Brighton, where mostsquatting was in private property, a squattersunion was set up specifically as a defence againstevictions which were often carried out violentlyby people without possession orders.Local authorities too made use of squatters’ lowpublic status. In Hebden Bridge, for instance, thelinking of 20 long-haired squatters living in oldmillworkers’ cottages in Queens Terrace with themythical evil beings created in the media madethe owners, Calderdale Council, less willing tonegotiate and more able to evict. With more insightthan other newspapers. The Guardianremarked, ‘. . . the Council has a preconceivedimage of them as scruffy, ill-mannered individualswho have been conveniently lumped togetherunder the squatting label’. 29 In fact, many of thesesquatters had previously been private tenants inthe same cottages at Queens Terrace prior to theirpurchase by the Council in 1974. Initial suspicionby other local residents had gradually beenreplaced by a limited degree of acceptance andsupport. Indeed, the squatters secured 500 signaturesto a petition asking that they be allowed tostay and gained the backing of the local LabourParty, the MP for the area, the senior socialworker and the local clergy, both Methodist andCatholic. They also produced detailed plans forthe houses and requested that they be allowed torent or buy them, as they were unsuitable forfamilies from the local authority’s waiting list.Unfortunately, the Tory controlled CalderdaleCouncil was not impressed. When squatterspresented their case in a formal deputation,Councillor Raymond Pearson walked out saying‘I do not see it as part of my duty as an electedrepresentative to talk to people who areoccupying houses illegally.’ 30 Nevertheless, it wasagreed to renovate the houses instead ofdemolishing them as originally planned whichthe squatters saw as a partial victory. But theywere not to be rented to the squatters as theCouncil’s stated policy towards them was thatthey should be sent back to where they came from.Media-inspired antipathy enabled the hardlineopponents of squatting to mobilise support,as Peace News reported: ‘Local Liberal and Torycouncillors/businessmen began to exploit thesituation to stir up antagonisms.’ 31 The squatterswere accused of living in disgusting conditions andscrounging off social security. By November 1976there was talk of a vigilante group of locals preparingto throw out the squatters and the Councilfelt confident enough to evict, refusing to rehouseeven a mother and child, despite a directive fromthe court judge that they should do so. HousingCommittee Chairperson, Robert Sunderland, hadalready declared defiantly: ‘There is no way thatwe are going to rehouse these leeches on society.’Not only did Calderdale Council clamp downon all squatting locally, but councillors andofficers went so far as to travel to London to lobbyparliament (successfully) for an amendment tothe Housing (Homeless Persons) Act, then inParliament. Nicknamed the ‘Calderdale Clause’it allows councils to refuse accommodation topeople who ‘deliberately make themselveshomeless’. This sufficiently ambiguous wordingallows Calderdale Council among others tocontinue avoiding its obligation to the homeless.Councils showed little enthusiasm fornegotiating with squatters or for trying to findways of housing them and were increasinglyprepared to use force to evict them. In Islington,for example, 17 people were arrested when 200police and 20 bailiffs evicted four houses inCharteris Road in June 1976, despite the factthat a survey had identified a hundred Councilownedempty dwellings in the immediate area.A GLC report acknowledged the way in whichthe media prepared the ground for a crackdownon squatting: ‘There is no doubt that, as a resultof the recent press campaign against squatting,public interest in the matter has been aroused. Itis likely that there would be public support formore positive (sic) action on the part of localauthorities in tackling the problem.’ 32And taking the lead, the GLC held yetanother press conference at the beginning of1976 at which yet another scandal was revealed.Squatters, so the unsubstantiated claim went,were employing a ‘Rent-a-Kid’ system, wherebysquatters facing eviction ‘borrowed’ children offriends to get rehoused. 33The media campaign of 1975 and subsequentpress fabrications about squatting were inspiredby a combination of both commercial and politicalmotivation. The coverage made a mockery of thevery notion of freedom of the press and the pursuitof truth. Squatters were merely the latest in along line of victims of a media that is farremovedfrom the ideals it professes to uphold.•63Squatters Army(tune: ‘My old man’s a dustman’)Oh. ....................We’re the squatters ArmyWe’re the ‘won’t pay rent Brigade’We like marijuanaAnd we like getting laidOh, have you read about us?If not you will you betBecause the Sunday PeopleAin’t seen nothing yet1. We piss out of windowsAnd we shit on the floorAnd we shoot up in lavatoriesWell ain’t that wot they’re for2. We don’t work in officesWe don’t work on the stallsWe don’t work in factoriesWe don’t work at all3. We got lice and scabiesFleas and bedbugs tooWe only take our clothes offWhen we want to screw4. We’ll beat up your grandmaCoz we’re a load of thugsWe won’t even noticeCoz wer’re all high on drugs5. We laze around like landlordsLet others rub and scrubThe only landlord that we payRuns our local pub

Fighting backSquatters organise nationally and locally to defend their rightsMetropolitan PoliceChapter6NewslineRayRayLSUNick WatesAdam Harvey William WiseSquatters organisePart of the success of the 1975 campaign againstsquatters lay in the relatively fragmented stateof the movement. It is worth comparing the mediamyth of a highly organised squatting movementwith the reality of that movement’s response to theattacks on it. The only answer that squatters couldoften find was to attempt to persuade the mediato present a more balanced picture. Letters werewritten to newspapers but rarely published; pressconferences were called but largely ignored; theSunday People had its offices picketed one eveningbut its anti-squatter tirades continued unabashed.Journalists who wrote articles favourable tosquatters had them returned by editors.In the face of wide-ranging opposition from theestablishment and the mass media, the squattingmovement, in common with other radical socialmovements, had no complete answer. It remainedisolated and divided, with neither the support northe cohesive political perspective which wouldhave enabled it to mount a more effective responseto the opposition.Many squatters’ reactions to the onslaught wasto play down the fact that they were squatting. Toappease neighbours, some even pretended they werenot squatters and were paying rent. More positively,an increasing number of squatters began to organisein a variety of ways to cope with the threat.The local levelThe most common form of organisation was thelocal squatting group at street or block level. Squattinggroups sprang up all over London (there were14 in Tower Hamlets alone in 1975 1 ) and in manyother towns too. They were usually created toresolve practical problems like opening up housesand repairs and they rarely became very active untileviction loomed. At this point, street meetingswould start being held weekly or even daily. Peoplewould be deployed on a variety of tasks; printingleaflets and news-sheets, negotiating with ownersand housing authorities, handling the legal defence,Squatters keep themselves informedLeft: James Street, London, 1976.Right and centre: Huntley Street, London, 1979.organising social events, raising money, seekingsupport from other groups, finding new squats,liaising with the press and perhaps buildingbarricades.The style of organisation and political strategyvaried enormously from group to group dependingon the nature of the opposition, the aspirationsand skills of the squatters and the emergence orotherwise of leadership. The success of local organisationvaried too, but the potential was showndramatically in 1975 by the victory of the ElginAvenue squatters. After a long and protractedbattle, they managed to persuade the GLC to rehouseall the families in permanent accommodation,and all the single people in short-life property.The most significant factor in the Elgin Avenuevictory was that the squatters had organisedover a period of years. They had built links withimportant local organisations and had gained thesupport of, amongst others, the local MP, thetrades council and the federation of local tenantsand residents associations,Elgin Avenue marked a tremendous victory forthe squatting movement but there was still nogeneral recognition of single people’s right tohousing. The agreement to rehousing was presentedas a one-off deal and statements emphasisedthat it did not apply to other squatters. Indeed,victory in Elgin Avenue proved to be exceptional,as very few other squatters won rehousing. On 7November 1975, 300 police evicted 70 squattersfrom Cornwall Terrace and two months later 150were used at the eviction in Hornsey Rise, once thehome of 350 squatters. In both places brave, butbelated, attempts were made to mobilise shiftingand unstable squatter populations. Such effortscame to little, largely because the squats hadattracted large numbers of people with no interestin organisation or even in squatting as a politicalmovement. When eviction loomed, the residentsmoved on in many cases to new and isolatedsquats. Both of these squats experiencedunpleasant degrees of social disintegration Pettytheft was rife, ‘hard’ drug dealers had moved inand the proportion of people who createdproblems began to exceed the capacity of more‘together’ squatters to cope with them.It was not only disorganised squats which fell tothe bailiffs in the aftermath of the 1975 campaignagainst squatting. Prince of Wales Crescent, inCamden, described in detail earlier (p 38), becamevery chaotic and when the bailiffs turned up inMarch 1976 the number of squatters had fallendrastically – from 300 one year before to under 100.A campaign to persuade Camden Council to allowthe community to remain had failed. Instead thesquatters demanded rehousing for everyone stillliving in the Crescent. In fact, the families wererehoused by the Council and the more establishedprojects were offered rented short-life buildingselsewhere. But for the single people who failed toget rehousing there was no alternative to squattingSquatters’ meetings.Top left: Cleveland Street, London, 1976.Top right: Tower Hamlets, London, 1979.Bottom right: Islington, London, 1979.Bottom centre: Cornwall Terrace, London, 1975.Top centre, bottom left: Tolmers Square, London, 1979.and a group of them took over TrentishoeMansions a block of GLC flats next to CambridgeCircus in central London.The Cornwall Terrace and Hornsey Rise squattersand the thousands of individual squattersevicted during 1975-76 failed to get rehousingbecause of the absence of effective organised action.In contrast, Prince of Wales Crescent squatterswere relatively well organised. Their failure stemmedfrom a variety of other factors, of which theclimate of local opinion created largely by the lifestyleof the squatters was the most significant. Thisaffected the extent to which squatters were ableto mobilise outside support and also underminedtheir confidence, thereby reducing their willing-6465

Squatters’ demonstrate. (See page 234 for where and when.)6667

Associated Newspapers LtdTime OutLSUNick Wates Colchester ExpressA variety of tactics used by squatters.Far left: People chain themselves to Camden Townhall’s balcony, 1977.Left top: Colchester Housing Department offices areoccupied, 1973.Left bottom: Sir John Betjeman is invited to apublicity party by squatters intent on savingseventeenth century houses in Spitalfields, 1977.Top: Lewisham squatters hold a press conference,1972.Above: Squatters negotiate with councillors inWandsworth, 1978.Right top: Camden squatters discuss problems withlocal MP Frank Dobson, 1979.Right bottom: An exhibition in central Brixtonexplains the squatters’ case to the public, 1977.ness to struggle. The Crescent squatters did try tosecure support from local organisations in the sameway that the Elgin Avenue squatters had but itwas a case of too little too late. The difficulty ofattracting outside support was often accentuatedby the parochial attitudes of squatter activists whowere reluctant to get involved in council politicsand their lack of concern for the (often legitimate)complaints by other local residents about thebehaviour of the squatters. Too often squattingwas raised as the major issue with the rights andneeds of other people being forgotten or ignored.In their five years of residence in the Crescent,the squatters only made serious approaches toother local groups when they needed supportagainst eviction; needless to say there was nosudden rush of altruistic support for their cause.There were no infallible blueprints for local organisation.While the Elgin Avenue squatters achievedsome of their goals by confrontation includingthe building of barricades, other groups used thesame tactics and failed. Occasionally successes wereachieved by behind the scenes negotiations withcouncillors (see Chapter 13 on Seymour Buildings).In other cases a lot of noise and publicitywas more effective (see Chapts 10, 11 12), andindeed it is likely that quiet negotiations wereonly made possible as a result of the ‘noise’ beingmade by the squatting movement as a whole.Sometimes a great deal of work had to be done:lobbying, writing letters, preparing alternativeplans, and above all, building up local support,tasks made doubly difficult by the temporary andunstable nature of most squats and theconsequent absence of telephones and contactaddresses. Many activists soon learned that localorganisation had to include social and practicalaspects as well as political ones. People wouldonly start to campaign collectively once they feltthey had some common unity. In the face ofeviction threats, many areas where there wassquatting came alive, with a familiar pattern ofbenefit concerts, jumble sales and other events.Attempts by squatting groups to achieve recognitionas communities usually failed. So too didmost attempts to get rehousing in the same locality.In fact, that was a concession which councils werevery reluctant to make as they were anxious toAdam HarveyUnion Place Collectivebreak up groups that proved strong. Whensuccessful, the most that could usually beexpected was permanent tenancies for familiesand short-life houses on licence for single people– frequently not in the same area. Yet this wasbetter than simply being kicked out from squatto squat which invariably happened in areaswhere there was no organisation.Wider horizonsIn addition to the large number of local groupsthere were several attempts to organise squatterson a wider level. Where a number of groupsexisted in one town or borough, federations weresometimes established to coordinate the activitiesof street groups, mount joint campaigns andenable experience to be shared. Occasionally localgrouips too took important initiatives. For instancein 1974, squatters in West London started the RuffTuff Creem Puff Estate Agency which publishedregular bulletins of squattable empty property allover the country (its activities are described in detailin Chapter 18). Squatters in the East End publishedlists of empty houses and farms in thecountry and another group even put out lists ofunused canal boats in Lancashire. Squatters inIslington produced the first issue of the SquattersHandbook in early 1973 and many otherpublications to spread information and experienceappeared around this time. Street theatre groups,such as Demolition Decorators and Rough Theatre,wrote plays about squatting and injected a senseof humour into squatting demos and benefits.FSAS versus ALSThe first London-wide organisation of unlicensedsquatters to appear, after the demise of the LondonSquatters Campaign in 1969, was All LondonSquatters (ALS). Set up in 1973 in response toan unfavourable ruling in the courts (the McPhailcase, p 160), it reflected the failure of the FamilySquatters Advisory Service (FSAS) to defend theinterests of unlicensed squatters. ALS was amore open organisation which invited theparticipation of both licensed and unlicensedsquatters from all over London. It had norestrictions upon what kinds of groups couldsend representatives, unlike the FSASmanagement committee which only includeddelegates from groups with licensing agreements(mainly because this was the only way in whichFSAS was able to obtain funding from Shelter).The major difference between the two bodieswas essentially political, particularly in their respectiveattitudes towards direct action and unlicensedsquatting. FSAS was often accused ofhaving abandoned direct action and being justanother part of the state housing machinery. Itsresponse, stated in an information sheet, was thatit ‘was not set up to promote direct action’. ALS,on the other hand, was set up for precisely that.Shortly after the formation of ALS, the splitwithin the ranks of the squatting movement cameto a head over the issue of handing back councilowned licensed houses when the occupants werenot being offered rehousing. Groups were facedwith the choice of refusing and thus jeopardisingtheir arrangements with local councils, or ofevicting their own members. The most notableexample of this occurred when Student CommunityHousing (SCH) was asked to return houses givento it by the GLC in Elgin Avenue, West London.This led to a bitter row between SCH and ElginAvenue squatters (see pp 131-2 for details) andduring the dispute, FSAS made the astonishingclaim that some squatting groups were ‘beingmanipulated by property speculators to forcecouncils to agree to demolition or development,or to provide public relations for speculators’!68

Tony SleepThe Squatters Handbook is one of the most usefulsquatters’ publications on how to squat, and is updatedat regular intervals.Right: The Advisory Service for SquattersSHHRLMark Rusher/ IFL 1977Organising on a wider levelLeft: Squatters conventionsAbove: All London Squatters and the Squatters ActionCouncil.The growing militancy of unlicensed squatters,and of those licensed squatters who were refusingto move out when required, was seen as a threatto the ‘reasonable’ approach forcefully advocatedby FSAS:‘Whilst we recognise that breaking or threateningto break agreements may sometimes bejustified, we believe that the success of themovement has rested as much upon ourcollective credibility through keepingagreements as upon our determination to bean active part of the Housing Movement.’This approach assumed that, except in rare instances,owners of empty property could be persuadedby rational argument to make use of it.In opposition to this philosophy, the militantsin ALS believed that licence agreements werenot producing enough houses and that the onlyway to get more was to step up direct action.The divisions within the squatting movementwere again heightened during the Centre Pointoccupation in January 1974. Although it wasorganised by people active in FSAS, many squattersfrom ALS joined the demonstration outsideand were disappointed when the occupiers decidedto leave after only two days as it seemed awaste of the effort that had gone into the occupation.‘Stay put – weekend revolutionaries’, theychanted, and urged those inside to move homelesspeople into the 36 flats attached to Centre Point.They argued that this was not the time for‘token’ protest squats.ALS planned a militant answer to what it sawas the ‘Centre Point letdown’. In March a groupof activists took over 57 Dover Street, a newblock of luxury flats in Mayfair. The flats wereoccupied by homeless families who were evictedafter six weeks.ASS is bornWithin FSAS the schism was almost complete bythis stage. A core of ‘moderates’ became opposedto unlicensed squatting as it attracted bad publicity.FSAS began to disintegrate as a representativeassembly, even of licensed squatting groups, andbitterly split into two factions. By July 1975 thenature of the organisation had completely changedand it renamed itself the Advisory Service for Squatters(ASS), aiming to work closely with unlicensedsquatting groups and individual squatters. Shelter,threatened with a loss of charitable income if itcontinued to support a squatting organisationwithdrew its funding. This loss of income put ASSin a precarious financial position. As there was nomoney to pay wages, the service became entirelydependent upon voluntary unpaid effort but ASSmanaged to survive. Money for stationery, thetelephone and other essential items (including,ironically, rent for its office) was raised throughdonations and benefit concerts. The service wasstill functioning as an advice centre in theAutumn of 1980 as this book went to press.ASS was also different from FSAS in that itceased to attempt to function as a federation oflocal groups and became a collective controlled bythe people who worked for it. The workers wereopposed to the way FSAS had attempted to becomea central body which could speak authoritativelyfor all squatters and which imposed its willupon recalcitrant local groups. The ASS collectivefelt that FSAS had ceased to be a loose associationof free and equal groups but had become acentrally directed monolithic body devoted toleading’ the broad mass of squatters, a form oforganisation incompatible with the structure ofthe squatting movement.Political disagreements hindered the formationduring 1975 of an organisation to replace ALSwhich had virtually ceased to function by thetime the summer media attack was launched.The differences were primarily between thosewho favoured a loose arrangement and whosepolitical views tended to be libertarian oranarchist, and those who favoured a morecentralist arrangement and whose politicstended to be Trotskyist. A Squatters Convention,attended by 250 people, at the end of May 1975,was dominated by this split and failed to produceany concrete mandate for future organisation.SACBut the press campaign of the summer made thecreation of an organisation essential. In August,a London-wide meeting called through ASS, andattended by 100 squatters, accepted a proposalfrom Piers Corbyn – one of the main activists atElgin Avenue – to set up the Squatters ActionCouncil (SAC), ‘a body of elected members delegatedfrom each squatting group in which observersare welcome to participate’. Its purpose wasto ‘organise and campaign to defend squatting andto develop the fight for decent housing for all’. Itsimmediate tasks were to respond to media attacks,mobilise against evictions, organise against theCriminal Trespass Law and build links withtrade unions and tenants organisations.One of SAC’S most effective achievements provedto be organising large scale occupations whichindividual squatters would have found difficult toundertake. For example, in 1977 it organised itsown contribution to the Queen’s Jubilee celebrationsin the form of a long series of ‘Jubilee Squats’.The first, and most daring, took place on JubileeDay (6 June) at No 18 Carlton House Terrace, onthe Mall, a house the Crown Commissioners hadkept empty for two years. As it was on the Queen’sprocession route, the police declared the squat tobe a ‘security risk’ and sent the Special PatrolGroup to evict the occupants. Backed up withAlsatian dogs, they broke in through the roof andwarned the squatters to leave ‘or else’. They did so,but the same night achieved partial revenge bysquatting Camden House, a police-owned blockin central Camden that had been empty for fouryears despite the efforts of Short-Life CommunityHousing (formerly Student Community Housing)to bring it into use. The police displayed a senseof urgency over evicting the squatters which hadbeen completely absent from their efforts to finda use for the block and the eviction was carriedout with a High Court possession order just twomonths after the flats were squatted.SAC, like ALS, was intended to bring togethersquatters from all over London and, in theoryanyway, outside the capital. Yet meetings werefrequently attended by fewer than a dozenpeople, who were sometimes delegates in nameonly, with the result that the strength of bothorganisations lay in the handful of activeindividuals who kept them going, rather than inthe local groups which were supposedlyrepresented. Most squatters never had any senseof identification with either ALS or SAC.Neither of these organisations, nor ASS, reallymanaged to mobilise squatters into an effectivepolitical force. Nonetheless, they did play aninvaluable role: ALS and SAC through theinitiation of particular campaigns, the opening ofmass squats, the organising of actions involvinglarge numbers of people, and the production ofnewssheets, and ASS (and, to a lesser extent,SAC) through the provision of advice and theproduction of the Squatters Handbook (taken onby ASS in 1977) and other informative material. •7071

7273Credits on p234

Squatters’ posters. (See page 234 for who did them.)7475

y Tony AllenMy land – an ancient squatters fableDemolition Decorators at the Ferry Lane occupationCOUNCILLOR’S SONGWe don’t want no Dirty SquattersThey’re all out to help themselvesThey do their own repairsThey know ther own affairsThey make the welfare State look foolishWe like helpless homeless familiesThey can have bed and breakfast – if they payBut if we don’t stop the SquattersThe Dirty Filthy Squattersthey’ll SOLVE THE HOUSING PROBLEM OFTODAYWe’d be redundant –If we don’t stop the Squatters – yesThe Dirty Filthy Squatters – whyThey’ll SOLVE THE HOUSING PROBLEMS OFTODAYLock ‘em away . . .(Squatters Song – anon.)A performance of ‘Squat now while stocks last’ inPrince of Wales Crescent (p38)Mike Goldwater 1979Mike GoldwaterA man is out walking on a hillside.Suddenly the owner appears.‘Get off my land’, he yells.‘What do you mean, your land?’, demandsthe intruder. ‘Who says it’s your land?’‘I do, and I’ve got deeds to prove it.’‘Well, where did you get it from?’‘From my father.’‘And where did he get it from?’‘From his father. He was the seventeenthEarl. The estate originally belonged to thefirst Earl.’‘And how did he get it?’‘He fought for it in the War of the Roses.’‘Right – then I’ll fight you for it.’The law doth punish man or womanThat steals the goose from off the commonBut lets the greater felon looseThat steals the common from the gooseOh I was built in 1893And my owners took care of me.They kept me warm, sound as a bellI was their home, they treated me wellGot taken over by the GLCDifferent tenants came to live in meBut sending workmen round was very rareSinking fast into disrepairThe GLC they’ve treated me real meanCalled me a slum, wrote me out of their scheme,They moved my tenants to another place,Took out my windows and bricked up my faceSent in the heavies to smash up my loo,Ripped out my piping and power points tooTill I was nothing but an empty frameA pawn in their redevelopment gameWhen I was thinking that my life was thruAlong came a woman, her family tooTook down the bricks, put a lock on my doorThey couldn’t stand being homeless no morePut back the windows and another looReplaced my wiring and power points tooPut up some curtainsHelped some friends move in over the streetEverybody’s got a right to a homeAnd there’s houses just a-going to rotIf the Council won’t house you, do it aloneDon’t let houses rot, SQUAT!Hand me me torch and me crowbarPass me a map of the townWhy should we be homelessWhen there’s plenty to go round(tune: – ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’)Its a long wait for a council house,Its a long wait we know,Its a long wait for my council house,Through the wind and rain and snow.‘Come back tomorrow!’We’ve heard it all before,So the next time you see a house that’s empty,Just walk in through that door!Maybe its because I’m a squatter,That I love London town,Maybe its because we’re squattersWe’re going to stop them knocking it down!Doing the Lambeth Squatby Bernard HansonAny time of any dayWhen you go down Lambeth wayYou’ll find us allDoing the Lambeth squat.When the rent is getting highAnd you can’t afford to buyWhy don’t you tryDoing the Lambeth SquatEverything’s bright and breezyDo what you damn well pleaseeHave everything your own wayEach day, all day.Any time of any dayWhen you go down Lambeth wayYou’ll find us allDoing the Lambeth SquatFix a Yale-lock, mend the lightsGet to know your squatter’s rightsAnd join us allDoing the Lambeth Squat.Sunny Brixton welcomes youAnd the Lambeth Council tooCan’t stop us allDoing the Lambeth SquatAs for the planner’s new schemesThey have such lovely daydreamsThey only need to wake upShake up, break up,Revolution just for funVilla Road my home sweet homeWe’ll have a ballDoing the Lambeth Squat“I understand he’s from the GLC Planning Department.”Squatter-singer Carol Grimes at a benefit(tune: – ‘Lilli Marlene’)Little terrace houses where I used to roamRooms rather small but at least it was a home.A dear little garden eight by eightA little fence, a little gateMy little private home, my little private homeWhen the war was over – all the bombin’ doneWe were still together – we still had lots of fun.But then all our neighbours disappearedThey said the slums must all be clearedThey pulled down every stone of my little private home.Now we live in tower blocks – everything’s so cleanFormica tops and a washing-up machine.But why did they make them all so tallOh what a long long way to fallMy feet were on the ground in my little private home.Took a little bus ride just the other dayAll what we passed by was much to my dismayTower blocks a-crumbling in the airIn bad repair and no-one thereBut some terrace houses done up newExtensions for an indoor loo –I wish I’d stayed and fought for my little private home . . .Mike GoldwaterSquatter-comedian Tony Allen(Spoken)Just a week or two ago poor old Uncle Bill,He went and kicked the bucket and left me in his will.The other day I pops round to see me Cousin Clare,She says yer Uncle’s left you his flat in Colville Square.I couldn’t believe me earshe weren’t even in arrears,and me been on the housing list for fifteen years.So I goes straight roundbut I hears an ominous sound,and there stands the landlordwith an ‘ammer in his hand.(Chorus sung to the tune of ‘Any Old Iron’)Corrugated iron, corrugated iron brand new corrugated iron,Yer ‘ouse looks neat, talk about a treat,Corrugated iron from the chimney to the street.No water, no gas and the mains all slashed,Can’t even have a fire on, and the only thing you’ve gotIn yer window box is corrugated iron.(Spoken)I was homeless, pissed off, had nowhere to stayHalf of fucking London tinned up and greyIt was then that I noticed every flat in the blockHad a squatters legal warning and a newly fitted lock.Goodbye bed and breakfast, farewell rentWhy not force a window and take up residence.I’d jemmied a door, and was just climbing throughWhen a copper ups and does me forMalicious damage to that . . .(Spoken)Now the moral of the story is clear for all to seeAnyone half sussed can work it out for free;When you’re gaining entry, opening up a squat,If you have to break in, don’t go getting caught,‘Cos landlords, law courts, councils and the ‘filth’Ain’t no good to no-one, excepting them with wealth,And they’ve got their name on the deedAnd that’s all they really needBut to protect their racketeer KarmaThey’ve got this extra character armourIts that . . .77

Squatters brighten up the environment. (See page 234 for location and credits.)7879

Sketty, Swansea 1975 – Western Mail CardiffBattersea 1977 – Andrew Wiard/ ReportBattersea 1977 – Andrew Wiard/ ReportWestminster 1974 – Sport & GeneralThe Ballad of Terminus RoadEarly one morning the bailiffs marched inTo smash up the home of the Family FlynnPolicemen all round them, theiir grim faces showedTheir heartless intentions at Terminus Road.But with help from their friends and from strong barricades,And with flour, jam and water the siege plans were laidWith banners and megaphones the bailiffs to goadThe squatters were ready at Terminus Road.Surprised by resistance, the bailiffs sent inA young council workman to tear down Fort FlynnBut his heart wasn’t in it, and flour they throwedHe was all doubts and dirt at Terminus Road.The bailiffs drew back to discuss their next moveDetermined the FALSE RIGHTS OF PROPERTY to proveThen sneaked round the back for the next episodeOf the fight for possession of Terminus RoadBrighton 1974 – Syndication InternationalNow a villainous bailiff tries to tear down the placeThickset and dark, a cruel smirk on his faceHe hammered on coldly, eyes glazed like a toadClosing his mind off at Terminus Road.Muck poured down upon him, the barricade’s strong:Two women came close to him and tell him he’s wrongThey get in his way and his iron will corrodeFor he’d have to smash them to smash Terminus Road.Retreating once more they returned to the front,It was Dave on the door who next bore the bruntThe bailiff drew in, Dave’s coat opened and showedhe was chained to the door of Terminus Road!And as squat supporters closed in all aroundThe bailiffs no longer could stand to their groundThe attempt at eviction had been overthrowedThey were forced to retreat along Terminus Road.Camden 1974 – Hampstead & Highgate ExpressLeft: How to get in when your front door is barricaded.Siege rationsBrixton 1973 – Bob Bray/ Time OutWhen all other tactics fail – resisting the bailiffs.Barricades were seldom effective on their own buthave been an essential part of many campaignsBailiff’s defend themselves.Notting Hill 1976 – The TimesCamden 1976 – Julian Stapleton/ Time Out80Elephant & Castle 1972 – Martin SlavinSwindon 1974 – Western Daily Press BristolBattersea 1977 – Mike GoldwaterBrixton 1973 – Bob Bray/ Time Out(tune: ‘Grand Old Duke of York’)Oh! The Labour GLC,They have 10,000 slums,They knock the floors and windows outTo keep out all the bumsBut while we’re in, we’re in,And while they’re out, they’re out,And if they try to get inside,We’ll kick the bastards out!Herne Hill 1973 – Peter Harrap/ ReprtBattersea 1978 – William WiseWest London 1974 – Press AssociationGlastonbury 1973 – Bristol United PressBattersea 1977 – Mike WiggBattersea 1977 – Mike Wigg

A whole new ball gameWinning concessions and learning to live with the new lawBy 1976 the squatting movement was undersustained attack. Even large evictions had ceasedto be newsworthy and there were countless unpublicisedevictions of individual squats. In addition,most squatters left voluntarily without resistance.For instance, in the London Borough of Haringeyat this time, the average life of a squat was threeto four months 1 – an average common to mostareas outside inner London. In many rural areas.where support networks were less welldeveloped, squatting was virtually wiped out.On the other hand, squatters were fighting backand the movement had certainly not been destroyed.Local campaigns, particularly in centralLondon, had achieved significant victories andlong and patient campaigning had persuadedsome councils to soften their hard-line approach.Camden Council, for instance, was prepared toleave squatters in short-life property ‘providingthey are not a nuisance to their neighbours andare not preventing the Council [from] housingpeople off the waiting list’. Camden still took‘immediate legal action to get rid of squatters inanything but its short-life properties’. It stillgutted empty properties to prevent squattingand it rarely offered rehousing to people it evicted.But one important step forward had been made.As a press statement proudly proclaimed on 19March 1975: ‘Camden takes the view that shortlifehouses are better in use than left empty.’The Lambeth fightbackAnother Labour-controlled Borough – Lambeth –was less ‘enlightened’, and it was here that themajor squatting struggles were now fought. Thenumber of squatted Council properties in the boroughhad risen from 333 at the end of 1974, to524 by April 1976. They were scattered but manywere concentrated in Victorian terraces aroundBrixton. Streets like St Agnes Place and Villa Roadwere given new life by their squatter occupants.Squatters first moved in to St Agnes Place in late1974, some of its houses having been empty for14 years. By April 1976, 65 people were squattingthere. Villa Road provided homes for another 200people and the total number of squatters inLambeth, including licensees and squatters inGLC and private property, had topped 5,000.In April 1976, Lambeth Council announced afive-point plan of attack:• Immediate eviction for single squatters.• Power supply cut-offs to squatted premises.• More houses to be ‘sealed up’ or ‘madeuninhabitable’ to deter squatters.• Council-funded groups to have their grantscut if they tolerated squatting.• The use of private investigators to help dealwith squatters. 2In addition, the crackdown on squatters involvedthe demolition of houses long before sites wereactually required. In particular, Villa Road andSt Agnes Place were due to be pulled down fortwo open spaces. Although the Council readilyadmitted that it would not have enough moneyto complete either scheme for five years, itinsisted it wanted to demolish the houses to getrid of the squatters as quickly as possible.By December 1976 almost 100 people weresquatting in St Agnes Place and, anxious to ensurethis number did not increase, the Council gutted anumber of houses immediately the tenants movedout. On 10 December, it expected to do the sameto No 85 without too much difficulty. The tenant,78-year-old Ruby Thompson who had lived therefor 30 years was leaving,but as she went out squattersentered the house from the rear and occupiedthe two top floors, while workers wrecked herground floor flat. (See p 188 for a detailed descriptionof this incident). (The workers were non-union82Chapter7‘Remember – trying to sto squatting is like stamping ona greasy golfball.’(All Lambeth Squatters 1974.)because UCATT, the building workers union, hadinstructed its members to black work involvingthe gutting of good homes.) The press had beenalerted to the event and lambasted the Council.The Evening Standard headlined its story‘Council “vandals” are defied by squatters’ 3 , andthe Sunday Times later ran an editorial under asimilar headline. 4Councils were being urged to cut spending, andyet here was a council deliberately wreckingperfectly good homes for no reason other than avendetta against squatters. Council-bashing in thepress, particularly of Labour councils, became asuitable alternative to squatter-bashing, at leastfor a while. There was strong opposition withinthe Labour Group of the Labour-controlledCouncil for the anti-squatting measures policy.Norwood councillor Ted Knight (later to becomethe Leader of the new left-dominated Labouradministration in 1978) was quoted as saying:‘The Council’s policies are bankrupt. They talkto the waiting list and say it is because ofsquatters. They talk to the homeless and sayit is because of the waiting list. And yet westill have vast quantities of empty property.’ 5Indeed, the administrative resources needed toimplement the policy were not available and,although some unlucky squatters suffered,squatting continued largely unabated in Lambeth.Any reduction in their number was due to theCouncil carrying out its redevelopmentprogramme rather than to its punitive policy.The policy finally foundered when the Councilunderestimated the strength of the opposition toit and overplayed its hand at St Agnes Place.On 19 January 1977, the occupants of St AgnesPlace were awakened by the sound of a hugecrane rigged up with a demolition ball movinginto position outside. The street was closed off bypolice coaches parked across the road and 200Union Place Collectivepolice officers were present ‘to prevent trouble.’Squatters had proved so adept at repairing eventhe most badly gutted houses that this time theCouncil had resolved to make its gutting effective.Again and again the demolition ball swung andsmashed into the roofs and upper floors of theempty houses in St Agnes Place. LambethCouncil had spent £13,600 to hire the demolitioncontractors to do work which its own unionisedemployees refused to do. The squatters, with thehelp of Lambeth Community Law Centre,hurriedly and successfully applied for aninjunction to halt the demolition – but not before16 houses had been wrecked, 10 irretrievably.The outcry which this affair caused brought anend to the Council’s most rabidly anti-squattingpolicies. On 25 January the Labour Group votedto think again about the future of St Agnes Placeand later it agreed to allow the squatters to remainuntil the park could be laid out. Many councillorswere angered by the deceit that had surroundedsending in demolition contractors as the decisionhad been kept secret from all but a handful ofhigh-ranking officers and councillors. Even thepolice were said to have been misled when askedto attend. They were told to come to assist in aneviction and the officer in charge of the operationwas later quoted as saying that he hoped neveragain to be involved in anything similar.The fight for St Agnes Place was a remarkableone. At times official attitudes were completely atodds with the needs of local people. For example,Councillor Carey, leader of the Conservative Group,had seconded the proposal to demolish St AgnesPlace at a Planning Committee meeting with thememorable suggestion that there were already toomany people living in Lambeth and ‘to make surethat the extra population doesn’t stay, we shoulddemolish houses that encourage them to do so.’ 6In the aftermath of the St Agnes Place affair,the entire ‘get tough on squatting’ steamrollerground to a halt, not only in Lambeth, but elsewhere.The continuing presence of squatters inSt Agnes Place and in Villa Road after a similarconfrontation (Chapter 12), constituted a victoryfor all squatters. The outcome of these struggles,moreover, comprised a victory for the homeless inLambeth, because it prevented the loss of housingthat the original plans entailed. The role ofThe ultimate in wrecking. Hired contractors move in toSt Agnes Place under police escort, January 1977.

Architects’ Journal 19.1.1977Union Place Collectivesquatting in forcing policy changes out ofLambeth Council had been absolutely crucial. AsLambeth’s Assistant Director of Housingremarked: ‘If it wasn’t for squatter pressure we’dhave had all these [houses] down months agoand nobody would have noticed.’ 7The successes of squatters in Lambeth wereunexpected at a time when the Government’smajor response to squatting, Part Two of theCriminal Law Bill, was making its way throughParliament. It was widely believed that the Billwould make squatting illegal and property owners,and sometimes even the police, began to act as ifthe provisions in the Bill were already law byevicting people illegally. 8 The impending Bill alsohad a demoralising effect on squatters as fewpeople who did not have legal training couldunderstand its implications and its limitations.84Sally Soames/ TopixTen homes are lost but the street is saved.85

The London Squatters Union is set up in 1977 to helporganisation in the light of the new anti-squatting laws.SQUATTING CHARTERThe Squatting Charter is the basis of membership of the LondonSquatters Union. It states the principles its members fight for inactivity among squatters, tenants and trade unions.1 We stand for decent housing forall as a right. We occupy emptyhouses not other people’s homes.We oppose all homelessnesswhether caused by councils orprivate landlords. The councils’waiting lists are an excuse NOT tohouse people; they are used todivide up the homeless and badlyhoused and justify homelessnesswhile thousands of houses lieempty.2 We are opposed to anydiscrimination over the right tohousing on the grounds of family,status, race, sex, age, origin orbeing an ex-squatter. We are notopposed to a person choosing tolive with other similarly motivatedpeople, and would support housesor groups such as black people,gays and women.3 We are against squatting houseswhere new occupiers aregenuinely in the process of movingin, or the houses are definitelyabout to have improvement workcarried out, but houses left emptyfor an unreasonable time SHOULDbe occupied.4 No evictions of squatters or tenants.We are against evictions by landlordsor councils acting independently orthrough the courts which make peoplehomeless or force them into housingwithout their agreement. Any offers ofrehousing must take into account theneeds and wishes of the occupierssuch as the type, location and state ofrepair of the house and their desire tolive together as a group or community.5 We stand for real communitycontrol of development plans. Allplans should be submitted tomeetings or conferences of tenant,trade union, squatting and communityorganisations so that human socialneeds are put before the pressures ofthe property market and financiers. Weare opposed to removing people fromdevelopment areas without such plansand contracts being signed andpublished.6 Where disputes arise over the useof any accommodation we support thesetting up of local enquiries bytenants, squatters and communitygroups to resolve the matter andensure everybody concerned ishoused.7 We are opposed to vandalism orgutting of houses whether bycouncils, landlords or individuals.We are also opposed to the strippingof fittings and appliances fromhabitable houses.8 We fight for the right of squattersto a supply for gas, electricity, waterand all other services withoutdiscrimination on the same basis asother occupiers. We are stronglyopposed to the use of cut-offs as away of making houses uninhabitable.9 We are totally opposed to anycriminal trespass law and willsupport and organise action againstany attempts to use it – onsquatters, workers, tenants, studentsor anyone.10 We support all tenants,community and other groups instruggles against evictions andhomelessness, and for the provisionof more and better housing.The London Squatters UnionIt was against this background that some squattersattempted in 1977, yet again, to form a more coordinatedorganisation to counter the oppositionthey were now facing. A squatters’ conferencearranged mainly by ASS and attended by 150people, was held in May 1977 to discuss the wayforward. Its main purpose was to try to set up amore representative body than the Squatters ActionCouncil which, for all its achievements, had failedto bring together more than a small number ofsquatters and which could offer little to isolatedand individual squats away from the main areasof squatting activity.Two conflicting methods of organization weresuggested in discussions leading up to theconference. One, advocated principally by themajority of the ASS collective, was an informallyconstituted federation of local groups. The other,backed by many individuals involved with SAC,was a more structured and centralised ‘union’with membership cards and formalised aims andobjectives. The London Squatters Union (LSU)which was closer to the latter form of organisationeventually emerged in July 1977 from thelong series of follow-up meetings that were heldin the months after the conference. Membershipwas open to all squatters, ex-squatters andlicensees for a cost of 25p and lOp per month,and the Squatters Charter, a statement of theUnion’s aims combined with a code of behaviourfor squatters, was adopted as the Union’s policy.Opposing the Criminal Trespass LawA dark cloud had hung over the squatting movementsince 1974 when the Law Commission publishedits proposal to make all forms of trespass,and consequently squatting, illegal. All the eventsdescribed above since that date were affected bythe prospect of the new law. The squatting movement’sresponse had been, perhaps uncharacteristically,swift. At an All London Squatters meetingin 1974 it was decided to set up a campaign tofight the proposals and the Campaign Against aCriminal Trespass Law (CACTL) was born.CACTL’s beginnings were humble. A leafletwas produced and circulated to a variety of organisationsand regular meetings gradually started to beheld. CACTL’s first task was to spread informationabout the proposals which had been poorly publicised.Apart from a few active squatters, not manypeople knew about the new law or understood thebreadth of its scope. The importance of spreadinginformation about the draconian proposals of theLaw Commission was quickly recognised by manypeople both within and outside the squattingmovement, and CACTL grew very quickly. Whereasnone of the London-wide squatting organisations– ALS, SAC and LSU — were ever able to buildany extensive links with organisations outsidethe housing field, CACTL was remarkablysuccessful in obtaining support from the labourmovement and students (see pictures on pp 156-7).CACTL’s success lay in the fact that the proposedCriminal Trespass Law posed a serious threat toworkers and students occupying their places ofwork. Indeed CACTL argued that the real purposeof the legislation was not to wipe out squatting butto stop occupations of factories. The fact thatpoliticians rooting for the new law denied that itwould affect workers only served to emphasisepeople’s fears. By the end of 1975, CACTL was operatingout of rent free offices in West London andhad two full-time workers who were paid a smallwage. CACTL began to receive invitations to sendspeakers to trades councils, trade union branchesand student unions. It soon became clear that inaddition to its primary role of building oppositionto the Trespass Law proposals, CACTL was playinga vital role in forging links between the squattingmovement which had been largely discredited inthe media, and the wider political movement. Ameasure of CACTL’s support can be seen by thefact that in 1976 it had received support from 36trades councils, 85 trade union branches, 51student unions and many other organisations.In its primary aim, CACTL was partly successful.The initial plan to outlaw trespass entirelywas greatly watered down when the Law Commission’sfinal proposals were published in 1976.These were to become Part Two of the CriminalLaw Act 1977 passed in the summer of that year,and brought into effect on 1 December 1977. Fivenew offences relating to squatting and trespasswere created. Specific forms of squatting whichrelated to a minority of squatters (eg squatting onembassy property, squatting in houses that theowner is planning to live in, etc.) were made criminaloffences. It also became legal to evict squatterswhen they were not in the squat (eg they were atwork or shopping) and it was made an offence toresist bailiffs once the owners had obtained a possessionorder (see p 161 for a detailed outline of thenew law). However, squatting had survived thelegal onslaught and had not been made into acriminal offence.Only eight days after the Act came into force,Alan Beddoe was charged, and later convicted of,resisting a bailiff contrary to Section 10 of the Actat an eviction in Battersea, South London. But inits final form, the new Act turned out to be less ofa threat to the squatting movement than mighthave been expected from a Parliament which regardedsquatting as a law and order problem ratherthan as a symptom of housing shortage. Nevertheless,about 25 people were arrested under its provisionsin the first two years of its operation, almostexclusively for ‘obstructing or resisting a bailiff.’While the new law was certainly a set-back anddid make squatting more difficult, it did not makeit illegal. Perhaps its most significant initialeffect was to curb the number of new squats.Unsure of the precise legal position and, perhapsunder the misapprehension that it was nowillegal to squat (a belief, ironically, reinforced bythe propaganda of CACTL), many potentialsquatters were put off. Indeed, in the summer of1978, ASS felt it necessary to mount a campaignwith the slogan ‘Squatting is still legal’.CACTL continued operating with two full timeworkers until the summer of 1979, having widenedits brief by opposing other legislation affecting therights of workers to take direct action: strikes,picketing, the closed shop and so on. In thislatter period, to some extent CACTL lost touchwith the squatting movement which was largelyin disarray. CACTL’s eventual demise came notthrough lack of support, or even of funds, but asa product of its success. The TUC, anxious thatan independent non-party organisation had builtup so much support within the labour movement,began to oppose its progress and in mid-1979CACTL decided to cease to run an office.Some ‘solutions’Ever since squatting re-emerged in 1969, propertyowners had called for tougher legal sanctions, andmany pinned their hopes on the new Criminal LawAct. Yet it became clear well before the law waspassed that it would not end squatting. Despiteconcerted opposition, squatting continued through1977 to 1979, not on the same scale as during theprevious years but sufficient to be seen as a threatby property owners. The experience of almost a8687

Chris Davies/ ReportChris Davies/ Time OutChris Davies/ Time OutTony SleepChris Davies/ ReportUnder pressurefrom squatting, theGreater LondonCouncil devisesnew methods ofusing its ‘hard-tolet’flats and itsderelict houses.Above: peoplequeue all night fora flat. Below: GLCleader HoraceCutler gleefullyannounces thelucky winners of achance to ‘homestead’a derelictproperty to anaudience of lucklesshomelesspeople clearly lessamused by thescheme.decade meant that squatting activists were frequentlycapable of mounting campaigns which led to defeatfor councils or, at least, meant that owners hadto use increasing force to achieve their aims. Massivepolice presence at evictions became commonplaceand frequently this cast the owner in a poor light.A stalemate had been reached and as licensed squattinghad proved to be insufficient to cope, there wasa need to look for other ‘solutions’. Some councilsbegan to explore ways of making their housing systemsmore flexible and providing more accommodationparticularly for single people who were makingup an increasing proportion of squatters. In asimilar vein, central government encouraged thegrowth of the co-operative housing movement.Hard-to-letOne of the more ironic responses to squatting wasinitiated by the GLC. When it evicted the HornseyRise squatters in early 1976, it told them therewere no empty properties available to give themon licence. The occupants of the 1,172 knownunofficially occupied GLC dwellings were told thesame thing. Yet a new lettings scheme had justbeen started for which there appeared to be no lackof available empty properties. This was the ‘difficultto-let’ scheme, whereby dwellings which applicantson the waiting list had consistently turned downare leased to single people and childless coupleson a first-come, first-served or ballot basis. Whenthe scheme was inaugurated in December 1975by the release of 101 homes in Southwark, over600 people turned out to queue for them, manywaiting all night. The next month, a further 120dwellings in Tower Hamlets were put on offerand the scheme mushroomed. Suddenly thereseemed to be no shortage of empty, unwantedaccommodation. The arbitrary allocation systemtoo was not what might have been expected froma Council which had attacked squatting soconsistently, precisely because squatters did notoperate any priorities based on housing need.AmnestyWhile they alleviated the plight of people whomight otherwise have been forced to squat and althoughthey undoubtedly were a response to squatting,the difficult-to-let schemes were not aimedspecifically at squatters. It was not until 1977 thatthe Conservative administration at the GLC electedthe previous May directly confronted the issue ofsquatting. In October, in a sensational aboutturn,it suddenly offered to legitimise theoccupancy of every squatter in GLC premises.The number of GLC squatters had reached anall-time high. The GLC estimated there were 1,438of its properties occupied by squatters but it turnedas out to be over 1,850; the difference between thetwo figures being some 400 squats that the GLCdid not find in its survey. 9 The Conservative leadershiprealised it would be impossible to evict the7,000 people living in these squats and decidedinstead to offer tenancies in GLC properties toevery squatter living in its dwellings on 25 October,provided they registered within a month. Afterthat, it proposed to use ‘all measures which thelaw allows’ against future squatters or those whodid not register. This was seen as ‘a positive stepto end the practice of squatting in Councilaccommodation and to facilitate a restoration oflaw and order’. It was not then a policy rooted inany change of attitude towards squatters, but ameans of ‘dealing on a realistic basis with thosealready in unauthorised occupation’ It wouldprovide the ‘first step’ in ‘an attack on the problemof squatting’. 10 (Author’s emphasis throughout).The Conservatives remained committed to theirelection pledge to end squatting in GLC propertyand the decision to regularise the position of peoplealready squatting was taken for pragmatic reasons.There was no recognition of the fact that squatterstake over houses because of housing need. Bymaking concessions to squatters already in itsproperty, the GLC was hoping to stop all futuresquatting. It adopted imaginative and flexiblepolicies at this stage merely to facilitate implementingtotally rigid and reactionary policies at a laterdate. Its attitude was contradictory; if people squattingin GLC dwellings on 25 October 1977 deservedlegitimate tenancies, then what was likely to be so89advert in Time Outdifferent about squatters who moved in afterthat date?In one sense, by moving squatters into poor conditionflats which really needed to be modernised,the GLC were institutionalising bad housing. Thusmany squatters were rightly suspicious of the GLC’smotives as Squatters News No 7 commented:‘Although the GLC is accepting responsibility formore people, it is also officially increasing thepool of people living in the poor conditionsdictated by the housing cuts.’ Housing conditionsacceptable to squatters were not necessarilyadequate if rent had to be paid for unfit housing.Squatters in 1,300 properties responded to theGLC offer, comprising 1,700 households which contained5,000 people or about 70 per cent of thoseeligible. However, the extent of squatting in GLCdwellings remained considerable after the amnesty.There were 550 squats whose residents did notregister or who had moved in after the amnesty.Some squatters were given tenancies or licencesto properties they were occupying, but the majorityeventually received offers of rehousing in otherGLC homes. According to figures released by theGLC for the first 300 such offers, 90 per cent wereaccepted. Most of the refusals were in the GLC’sWest London District where squatters were offeredrehousing as far away as Slough and Borehamwood.Since the GLC made only one rehousing offer perhousehold, unpopular ones like those presented therecipients with difficult choices. In general, though,it seemed that the GLC tried to be reasonable. Forexample, it offered 150 Bengali families squattingin Pelham Buildings in the East End rehousingin the same area which many of them wereafraid to leave because of racist intimidation andviolence in other parts of East London. The GLCalso allowed several squatter communities toremain in their homes as housing co-operatives.Needless to say squatting did not cease in GLCproperty following the amnesty and the Conservativescarried out their promised crackdown. An antisquattingsquad was established consisting of ‘oneman and four heavies’, according to Housing PolicyChairperson George Tremlett. On discovering squattersin a property, a visit was made and if the squattersdid not agree to leave immediately, possessionorders were sought from the courts. BetweenMarch 1978 and July 1979, 787 possession orderswere obtained, there were 557 evictions and 389‘voluntary’ vacations. At a press conference in July1979 Tremlett declared proudly, but perhaps not

altogether accurately, ‘squatting is contained’. Yetdespite the imperfections of the amnesty and thesubsequent crackdown, the squatting movementhad forced a remarkable concession out of a previouslyimplacable opponent. One important factorbehind these concessions was the change in attitudeof certain influential housing officers. Their experience,day by day, court by court, had convincedthem that there were too many organised squattersin GLC property for it to be possible to evict themall. A conciliatory approach was also made easierbecause a DOE-commissioned survey of squatters,finally published in the previous summer (after along delay and numerous leaks), providedincontrovertible evidence that ‘The majority ofpeople have squatted because of shortage ofaccommodation and not because they are opposedto law and order or they wish to live rent-free.’ 11In addition the media was presenting a morepositive picture of squatting. During the year, aTV documentary ‘Goodbye Longfellow Road’, hadshown squatters in a favourable light and anumber of newspapers carried less hostilearticles (most notably the Evening Standardunder the editorship of Simon Jenkins). Even theDaily Telegraph carried a pro-squatting feature. 12This sudden apparent conversion of the mediawas partly a product of prevailing economiccircumstances. Public expenditure was still beingcut and there was a search for cheap solutions tosocial problems. Squatting is one of the variousmovements which embrace a belief in, or concernwith, the principles of self-help. While for mostthe attraction of self-help is philosophical orpolitical – people solving problems collectively bymutual aid – the attraction for both local andcentral government lies in its cheapness.’ 13The wide-ranging possibilities of self-help inhousing, which squatters helped to demonstrate,were being examined with growing enthusiasmduring 1977. Consequently, many of the propertiesreleased by rehousing squatters during the amnestywere used for the GLC’s new ‘homesteading’scheme. People bought derelict houses on anormal mortgage basis but had the first threeyears interest waived and were supposed tospend the money saved on restoring the property.The high price of even derelict houses in Londonprevented many people from taking part in thescheme, but the fact that 15,000 peopleresponded when it was first advertised showedthe strong demand for some form of self-build.Co-opsA more positive product of the growing interest inself-help solutions in housing was the co-operativemovement and many squatters formed co-ops inthe hope of securing permanent accommodation ascommunities. Co-operative organisational formswere not new to squatters, having been used byboth licensed and unlicensed groups since 1969.Indeed the extensive experience of short-life housinggroups in the field of tenant self-managementhad provided some of the evidence that encouragedwider government interest in increased ‘dwellercontrol’ and participation. For instance. MikeKinghan (author of the DOE sponsored surveyon squatting), used the example of family squattingassociations ‘to demonstrate that the devolution ofhousing management need not necessarily resultin the disasters forecast by the pessimists.’ 14 Sowhen the 1974 Housing Act made Housing AssociationGrants accessible to housing co-ops, interestamong squatters and short-life groups in formalco-operative structures began to grow rapidly.The notion of squatters forming housing cooperativeswas pioneered by the Committee for theFaceless Homeless which squatted Sumner Housein Tower Hamlets in August 1974. The 50 familieswho moved into the flats quickly formed the SumnerHouse Co-op. They never succeeded in theiroriginal aim of obtaining permission to take overand rehabilitate Sumner House as they wereevicted in 1976 but a group of people connectedwith that squat finally formed a bona fide housingco-op, the Poplar West Housing Co-operative.Poplar West has since been wound up by theHousing Corporation for alleged irregularities inthe handling of money, but its role as a pioneerin the field of co-ops for squatters was a vital one.David HoffmanDifferent fates for squatting communities.Above: Squatters in several streets in East Londonsuccessfully make the transition to a housing co-op withpermanent tenure and government funding.Above right and far right: A wake is held on the nightbefore eviction of squatters in Tolmers Square. Everyoneis rehoused by Camden Council after a bitter campaignbut the community is broken up, 1979.Far right: Villa Road squatters commemorate the loss ofone side of the street but battle on to stay permanentlyin the remaining houses (p 149).During 1975, the idea was picked up by anumber of squatter communities. Unsuccessfulefforts were made to form a co-operative atCornwall Terrace and elsewhere but at SeymourBuildings in Westminster which was squatted in1975 the first successful transition from squat toco-op was made (see Chapter 13 for details).The success of the Seymour Co-op, which tooktwo years of hard work, gave encouragement tolicensed groups, many of which were alreadylooking into the possibility of forming co-ops as ameans of transferring the self-management theyhad tried out in short-life property to a permanentsetting. Lewisham Family Squatting Association,Islington Community Housing (an offshoot ofSCH) and other short-life groups had alreadyformed housing co-ops by the end of 1977, andthere were at least eight co-ops established fromshort-life housing groups by mid-1978. 15Squatters, too, showed interest in the events atSeymour Buildings. The GLC amnesty produced aseries of proposals from squatter communities forthe establishment of co-ops, and at the beginningof 1978 the first of these was agreed in principle atBishops Way, Hackney. Numerous other schemeshave emerged among ex-GLC squatters and, whilenot all of them have been successful, a considerablenumber have taken over management of theirhomes. Indeed of 161 housing co-ops andinterested groups listed in the Co-operativeHousing Agency’s 1978 Directory, 11 had beenformed by squatters and 13 had a substantialinput from squatters or ex-squatters.Self-help in housing was getting increasedinstitutional support but the success of co-opsdid not mean that the principle of self-managedcommunities was accepted by councils. Each coophad to be fought for and those that succeededdid so mainly because at a time of cut-backs, theypresented cheap alternatives to councils’ plans.For instance an attempt to establish a co-op by acommunity of squatters in Bristol Gardens, WestLondon failed when the GLC found it could makemore money by selling the houses.Ironically, there was sometimes more chance ofsuccess in Tory areas than Labour ones; the Torycouncils were happy with anything which relievedthem of their housing responsibilities, whereasLabour councils tended to stick dogmatically totheir plans on the grounds that it was in the bestinterests of people on their waiting lists. Forexample, a thriving community of squatters andNick WatesNick Wateslicensees in Winchester Road and Winchester Mewsin Labour-controlled Camden met with littlesuccess. By 1977, over 70 people were squattingthere, many of whom had put considerable energyinto renovating the derelict buildings (pl78). Thecommunity spawned several craft workshops,youth organisations and a wholefood cafeemploying school leavers from the local youthclub. A market sprang up on a vacant site andwas used by people from all over the borough.Festivals were regularly organised. Yet Camdenremained intent on its redevelopment plans,describing the site in its 1977 planning report, APlan for Camden, as ‘largely vacant, temporary’.As with other squatting communities no effortwasmade to understand its positive qualities, andin 1979 the remaining squatters were evicted.The houses in Winchester Road were convertedback into family units, but after demolishing theMews, plans for building new housing fell through.The site remained derelict and the Councilstarted negotiations with hotel developers.The notion of the squatting community wascarried to its ultimate conclusion in 1977 when 120squatters in Freston Road, West London, occupyingGLC property carried out an imaginative stunt.Nick Wates9091

Tony Sleep Tony SleepFrestonia in West London wheresquatters declare independence.Below left: Frestonia’s first birthday.Below: One of three communalgardens created out of wasteland.Below right: Christmas party, 1979.Tony SleepInternational Times Vol 4 No 4Tony SleepTony SleepThey made a unilateral declaration of independencefrom Great Britain and declared a ‘Free IndependentRepublic of Frestonia’. Full membership of11 the United Nations and the EEC was appliedfor, and a telegram sent to the Queen.All the squatters in Freston Road had beenoffered alternative accommodation under the GLCamnesty but the offers were scattered and meantleaving a locality in which many of them workedand had developed close ties. They wanted to berehoused in the neighbourhood together and closeby. The GLC only recognised families as a unit forrehousing, so all inhabitants adopted the surnameBramley, and Frestonia’s motto was ‘We are all onefamily’. A full cabinet of ministers was appointedand all those not in the cabinet were made ambassadors.A letter from the Minister of State forForeign Affairs, David Rappaport-Bramley to theSecretary General of the United Nations declared:‘A Referendum of each inhabitant ofFrestonia was held on Sunday, 30 October,1977, and the overwhelming majority was infavour of self-determination for the people ofthe area, and independence from the previousrulers, Great Britain.The area was recently acquired by theGreater London Council, an organ of the BritishGovernment, and by its own confession, thearea was allowed to deteriorate over the yearsinto a derelict site, with tenants moved out oftheir homes, the well-established communitydestroyed, and empty sites of demolishedbuildings fenced off with corrugated iron andused for dumping rubbish, with halfdemolishedhouses next to people’s homes.Our case is that the GLC and the BritishGovernment, through a long history of neglectandmismanagementofFrestonia,haveforfeitedthe right to determine the future of the area.If delay in processing our application occurs,an invasion into Frestonia and eviction by theGreater London Council and other organs of theBritish Government may occur, in which casethere will exist a crisis with internationalramifications, and the necessity may arise forFrestonia to require the UN to send a tokenpeacekeeping force. These are developmentswhich we must at all costs avoid.’The United Nations did not reply. But the medialoved it, eagerly taking photographs of the fouryear old Minister of State in his pushchair andfor weeks the street was full of TV crews from all9293

over the world.At first the GLC insisted it would continue itsplans for demolishing the houses and developingthe site for industry. Some of the squattersaccepted their amnesty offers but some returnedto Frestonia when they found their new homes tobe too isolated and distant. A housing co-op wasformed, local opinion was mobilised against theplans, and the support of several localorganisations was obtained. Bowing to thispressure and eager to save money, two yearslater the GLC agreed to hand over the site to theNotting Hill Housing Trust which planned to buildnew houses and craft workshops. At the time ofwriting it appears that the squatters will be ableto stay in the new scheme but that their plan forpreserving most of the houses and retaining thecommunal gardens have been ignored.Co-ops were not always a success and manysquatters who became involved in them were criticalof the bureaucratic controls and restrictions imposedon them by the Housing Corporation throughwhich funds for co-ops are chanelled. Despite beingthe most democratic form of public housing, thedependency on public funds of most co-ops limitsthe amount of control that individual membershave over their housing.These bureaucratic barriersand the delays they inevitably created oftenleft many ex-squatters disillusioned about co-ops.Other concessionsOther mildly concessionary policies on homelessnesswere also implemented. The Housing (HomelessPersons) Act came into force on 1 December1977, the same day as the Criminal Law Act. Thisplaced an obligation on councils to provide housingfor certain groups of homeless people deemed atrisk – basically people with children, pensioners,the handicapped, the sick and pregnant women.The Act has not lived up to the high expectationsof its supporters mainly because of loopholes (likethe Calderdale Clause, p 63) and because manygroups of people, including the single and childlesscouples are not helped by it. Nevertheless, thefact that it came into force simultaneously withthe new law on squatting showed that the state’sapproach towards the homeless was ambivalent.A few months earlier, councils had been urgedby central government to improve their use ofempty property. A circular, sent out in July 1977to councils, stated:‘Authorities should aim to develop a constructiveand close working relationship with thehousing association movement and responsiblevoluntary organisations in a position to useshort-life property to alleviate the housingneeds of special groups in their area. Localauthorities should consider the possibility oflicensing responsible groups who apply tooccupy empty property which cannot be broughtinto use in any other way, and who otherwisemight feel driven to unlawful squatting.’ 16The last sentence shows that squatting providedthe impetus for this move.The formation of agencies specialising in the useof short-life property (such as Shelter’s HousingEmergency Office, the Federation of Short-LifeHousing Groups, the Self-Help Housing ResourceLibrary and innumerable local organisations)and the introduction of the ‘mini-HAG’ (HousingAssociation Grant) whereby finance wasavailable through the Housing Corporation forrepairs to short-life dwellings, also facilitated theincreased use of empty property.In Lewisham, for example, where the firstlicenses were given to a squatting group in 1969,the Council had continued its efforts to use thepositive contribution of squatters. Lewisham FamilySelf-Help Housing Association, as the originalFamily Squatting Association had been renamed,still provided homes for 79 families in June 1977.The Council had a policy towards unlicensed squatterswhich, in theory, was the best that might beexpected. According to a paper by the AssistantBorough Housing Officer, when unlicensed squattingdid occur, ‘No action is taken . . . until theproperties are required for redevelopment or thereis evidence of serious nuisance or annoyance toadjoining residents.’ 17 The paper went on to describehow the Council had also offered difficult-to-letproperties to single people, couples and sharers,including an entire estate of flats dissected by amajor road and several tower blocks from whichfamilies had been vacated.Single person new-buildschemes were planned too. The paper readily acknowledgedthat squatting had played a vital role inbringing the Council’s attention to the need to providehousing to people other than nuclear families.Yet squatting continuesBut such flexible approaches had not become thenorm and central government recommendationswere often meaningless at the local level. InPortsmouth for instance, the local squattinggroup was involved in a long fight against theCouncil gutting and demolition of houses in theCumberland Road area prior to a public inquiryinto its future. Attempts to obtain houses forshort-life use met with little success and in aninternal memo of 29 November 1977 the CityEngineer made the Council’s policy clear:‘Properties acquired in this area are acquired forclearance purposes and will not be re-used.Theyare then rendered unattractive to potentialsquatters by breaking up the insides, renderedunattractive to small-time thieves by removingvaluables such as lead, copper etc which againinvolves a certain amount of breaking out andsteps are also taken to combat rodents etc bysealing sewer connections which againnecessitates a certain amount of breaking out’When this policy failed to deter squatters, thecouncil resorted to demolition instead.In 1978 the largest police presence ever seen atan eviction smashed down barricades at HuntleyStreet, one of Britain’s best organised squats. Theeviction was unnecessary, as it was already knownthat the squatters had, the day before, won anagreement for rehousing all the squatters.Five adjoining blocks of flats in Huntley Streetwere squatted in February 1977 in an initiative bythe Squatters Action Council. One block wasallocated to women and children from a batteredwives hostel, and a ground floor flat was used formeetings and an office first for the SquattersActionCouncil and later for the London Squatters Union.The 54 flats which had been empty for four yearseventually housed 160 people including 30children. Three days after the occupation, theArea Health Authority, the owner, announcedplans to convert the flats for nurses and doctors.But it also intended to abandon a lease on anearby nurses home and turn down purpose-builtflats provided by Camden Council. The squattersand the local community campaigned bitterlyagainst the plans which would have reducedhousing and turned a playground into a car park.After the Authority obtained a possession orderat the second attempt in July 1978 the flatswere barricaded and round the clock watchesmaintained. But no barricades and no amount ofsupport for the occupiers could have preventedthe eviction when it came. At dawn on 16 August,650 police armed with riot shields and grapplingLondon ExpressA paramilitary style eviction ends the Huntley Streetsquat, 1979.Middle left: Two police officers known as Nigel andMary cleverly volunteered to do early morning watchduty at the time of the eviction.Middle right: Neither newspaper reporter could count.It emerged at the trial that there were 650 police at theeviction.LSU badgeJulie Barnett Evening Standard9495

hooks and backed up by four bulldozers descendedlike a blue plague. Led by steel helmeted bailiffs,advised by Special Branch experts on political‘subversives’ and spearheaded by the notoriousSpecial Patrol Group (SPG), the police forced anentry within minutes. Fourteen people werearrested for ‘resisting the sheriff contrary toSection 10 of the Criminal Law Act 1977.Police preparations for this paramilitaryoperation were extensive. Helicopters took aerialphotographs, the phone was tapped andsurveillance cameras were mounted in flatsopposite. Most significantly, three weeks beforethe eviction, two police officers, posing as ahomeless couple – Nigel Wildman and MaryMcClosky – moved in as squatters. Their trueidentity was revealed later at the trial of the‘Huntley Street 14’. The eviction, estimated tohave cost over £50,000, was widely condemned.At the court case a year after the eviction, themagistrate eventually decided there wasinsufficient evidence to convict 12 of the defendantsbut two, Piers Corbyn and Jim Paton, were foundguilty. Corbyn received an exemplary 28 daysimprisonment, the first immediate prison sentenceunder the new7 anti-squatting law, but it wasreduced on appeal to 200 hours community service.Paton was given a suspended sentence of 28 daysimprisoment, confirmed on appeal. The evictionwas organised by London’s Under Sheriff, MichaelHarris, who played a prominent role in the evictionof several large squats and seemed to takeparticular delight in evicting groups of squatters.In 1980 he had to resign his post as UnderSheriff following reports in Private Eye alleginghis involvement with the Mafia and pornography. 18While Harris had hoped for harsher sentencesthe operation fulfilled its purpose as a trainingexercise for large scale police actions (not necessarilyagainst squatters) and as a piece of intimidation.Nonetheless the campaign following the evictionreceived widespread support. The Trades UnionCongress that autumn condemned the use of theSPG against squatters and Labour PartyNational Executive Committee speakers at theirannual conference also criticised the eviction.The concessions in council housing policies thathad been gained in 1977-8 and the intimidatoryeffect of both the Criminal Law Act and policeactions led to a marked decline in squatting in1978. Many homeless single people were absorbedinto new council schemes to use difficult-to-letand short-life housing, while potential squatterswere worried by rumours that squatting was nowillegal. In addition these concessions removed alayerofthemostexperiencedandseasonedactivistsfromsquatting.Thesuccessesoforganised squattercommunities, or their eviction and dispersal, ledto a situation in which isolated squats remainedcornmon while concentrations of squatters becamerarer. The natural unit of organisation, the streetor block, was disappearing, partly as a result ofthe success of squatters as part of a larger socialmovement in persuading local authorities to carryout less wholesale redevelopment and more smallscalerehabilitation. Isolated squatters could nothope to reproduce the organisation developed bythose who had lived near each other.Many ex-squatter activists become involved inother fields of housing or political activity, such asthegrowinghousingco-operativemovementorantiracist,anti-fascist struggles. People who cut theirteeth in squatting activity carried their politicalexperiences into other housing struggles. AHousing ActionConvention,inSheffieldinSeptember1978, attracted over 300 people, the majorityof whom had been involved in squatting. From thisemerged the seeds for a new campaigning network,Housing Action, which concentrates on issues ofwider relevance than squatting or empty property.Housing Action had its roots deeply embeddedin the squatting movement, and the squatters and(more commonly) ex-squatters who were closelyinvolved in its formation remained among its keyactivists.There was an attempt by Housing Actionto link the experience and tactics of the squattingmovement (as the most militant and sustainedhousing movement of the seventies) with the moretraditional tenants organisations and labour movementbodies. This worked best in one-off venturesor pieces of direct action. In March 1979, forexample, Housing Action and the London TenantsOrganisation’s GLC group linked up with localtrades unionists to stage a spectacular protest occupationof a GLC show-house at the Ideal HomeExhibition. The ‘Ideal Squat’ was evicted within30 minutes, but not before the 100 or so peopleinvolved had brought the Exhibition to a standstillwith one of the liveliest pieces of protest theatreever enacted over a housing issue.The protest failedto halt the GLC’s policies of selling off councilhouses and running down its housing programme,but it did indicate the possibilities for unitybetween squatters, tenants and trades unionists.Tony SleepMike WiggHousing Action organises a sensational occupation ofthe Greater London Council’s show house at the DailyMail’s Ideal Home Exhibition at Olympia, 1979. Afterhalf an hour of stopping the show, the police end thefun and cart off some of the demonstrators.Tony Sleep9697

Housing Action’s attempts to take this protestaction a stage further by occupying an entire blockof GLC flats on the Ferry Lane Estate inTottenhamalso drew in a wide range of supporters. The flatshad been empty for two years while the GLCprepared plans for their sale to private buyers andthey stood among some 500 empty GLC dwellingson the same estate. The local tenants association,the Labour MP and the Liberal parliamentarycandidate for the area pledged their support. Onetenants association in Dulwich sent a telegramaddressed to ‘The Rightful Occupiers of FerryLane Estate’. Even the security guards employedto defend the properties against squattingexpressed sympathy (an attitude which wasprobably important in persuading the police notto intervene when the occupation first occurred).A similarly wide range of support had beenobtained by the Stop the Blitz Campaign when itorganised the occupation and repair of over 50empty houses in three streets in Redbridge at theend of 1978. It was the same area which had beenthe focus of the famous pitched battles betweenbailiffs and squatters in 1969. At that time theCouncilwasguttinganddemolishingperfectlygoodhouses in a deliberate attempt to force the publicinquiry inspector to agree to their demolition tomake way for a grandiose central area redevelopmentscheme. Nothing changed much. Despitelosing the public inquiry in 1970, the Council drewup another plan which was due to go to a publicinquiry in 1979. In the meantime it continued togut and demolish, presumably hoping to do bettersecond time around. To cover up its wanton wasteof resources, the Council consistently lied to theelectorate,presentedfalsefigurestoofficialsurveysabout empty property and harassed and blackmailedresidents. So eager was it in pursuing its goalsthat on one occasion council workmen by mistakegutted a privately-owned house and boarded itup, preventing the owner from getting in. 19The Stop the Blitz occupation was intendedmore as a protest against thi demolition or guttingprior to a public enquiry than as a squat. Nonetheless,it involved many veteran squatting activistsand was described as a ‘10th birthday celebration’of the contemporary squatting movement.Neither the Ferry Lane squat or the Stop theHousing Action mounts an occupation of GreaterLondon Council flats in Tottenham left empty for twoyears awaiting sale, 1979.Portsmouth Evening NewsCampaigners against ‘prior demolition’ courageouslyattempt to stop the bulldozers in Portsmouth 1978(left) and stage a well-organised protest squat ofseveral streets in Redbridge, 1979 (above and right).Laurie Sparham/ IFLNick Wates Nick WatesRayBlitz campaign were very successful.In Redbridge,the Council’s increased understanding of the law onsquatting and the removal of loopholes which hadbenefitted squatters in the past led to eviction inthree weeks. At Ferry Lane the GLC ditheredlonger, perhaps unsure of the strength of theopposition. Ultimately a combination of electricitycut-offs, the Conservative general election victoryand the fact that none of the activists involved inorganising the occupation actually lived in theflats, led to defeat (and the arrest of 15supporters when police broke up peaceful picketscalled in protest against the eviction). The degreeof planning and organisation behind such actions,and the number of people involved in them (over100 in each case) demonstrated a commitment todirect action which augured well for the future.The Redbridge and Ferry Lane occupationswere also important in publicising the fact thatsquatting had not been made illegal,and during thelatter half of 1979 the decline in the number ofpeoplesquattingcametoanend.Everyagencydealingwith squatters or would-be squatters reporteda renewed activity or heightened interest.IslingtonCouncil, in London, reported that the number ofsquats in its property doubled during 1979 toalmost 200 units, though it failed to see how, inscrapping its housing scheme for single sharers,it was partly the author of its own misfortunes.The Self Help Housing Resource Library reportedan increase in squatting outside London,quotingcases of sizeable new campaigns in Cambridge,Bristol, Stoke-on-Trent and Birmingham duringthe summer of 1979.In London,a number of squatsmade the news, including the occupation of a largeDOE-owned property in Bloomsbury which hadbeen designed by the famous architect JohnNash. The Area Health Authority responsible forthe eviction of Huntley Street had a nursinghome over-looking Highbury Fields (and emptyfor five years) squatted by a group who remainedin occupation for a number of months withoutmains gas, water or electric supplies. Even StPaul’s Cathedral had its Chancellery squatted.Massive cuts in public spending (p 225) and theend of any government commitment to providehomes for all resulted in the renewed growth in thenumber of people squatting. Single people, trappedat the bottom of the housing pile, made up a largeproportion of the new squatters, though peoplewith children were still being forced to squat despitethe Homeless Persons Act. Groups which hadbeen on the verge of collapse were given a freshimpetus by the upsurge. The Advisory Service for9899

Credits on p 2341979-80; Squatting continues . . .Squatters, for example, survived the withdrawal ofmost of its long-serving collective (who, after up tofour years of unpaid advice work,were simply wornout or wanted to spend their time on other things)and continued to function. The London SquattersUnion,which had been virtually inactive for a numberof months, revived itself at the beginning of1980, using the Housing Action office three nightsa week for advisory and organisational work. TheLSU later moved to offices near Trafalgar Square.Other organisations did fold, however. Most localsquatting groups, for instance, were moribund bythe end of 1979, and the Federation of Short-LifeHousing Groups (which at one time could claimalmost 30 different short-life and squattinggroups among its members) only met twice during1979. Others like the Self Help Housing ResourceLibrary, ASS and LSU stumbled on with theefforts of a smaller number of active supporters.Without an influx of energy and activists intosuch groups, their future seems uncertain – andwithout the minimal organisational and advisorycapacities of such groups, the future of squattingwould become even more uncertain.The overall political climate has changed drasticallysince the seventies, and it is doubtful whetherthe concessions won by the squatting movementin the past will be readily repeated. Squatters willneed to be better organised in future in order towin less. They will need to draw upon much widersupport and develop the links that have begun tobe made with other organisations.Squatting will inevitably continue on an individuallevel.Isolatedsquatterswithoutlinkswithanywider movement will continue to take over propertyin order to solve their immediate housing needs.Projections of the housing situation leave no doubtthat the crisis will worsen substantially in theeighties and that homelessness will increase greatly.Thenumber of people needing to squat will rise.Whether squatting will be merely the last resort ofdesperate individuals, or whether it might also beanorganisedmeansforpeopletosecurebetter housing,depends upon how well squatters can organiseas part of wider housing and political movements.•

Some historySquatting in Britain before 19688 The early squattersSix centuries of squatting9 The post war squattersWhat happened when there were no homes for theWorld War Two heroes102 103

The early squattersSix centuries of squattingSquatting is the oldest mode of tenure in theworld, and we are all descended from squatters.This is as true of the Queen with her 176,000acres as it is of the 54 per cent of householdersin Britain who are owner-occupiers. They are allthe ultimate recipients of stolen land, for toregard our planet as a commodity offends everyconceivable principle of natural rights.Two centuries ago the philosopher ThomasSpence argued that the ultimate logic of theprivate possession of land is that the landlord ‘canoblige every living creature to remove off his property’(which to the great distress of humanity isby Colin Wardtoo often put into execution). 1Over a century before Spence, GerrardWinstanley declared that ‘the poorest man hathas true a title and just right to the land as therichest man. Winstanley also held the view,widespread amongst radicals of his day, that theNorman Conquest had deprived the people oftheir land and that with the defeat of Charles I,as ultimate heir of William I, the people had wonback the land by right of conquest. He thusargued that the people who worked on the landhad a legal title to it as well as a natural right.Most cultures have the tradition that the landNew York Public LibraryChapter8Second century Roman amphitheatre at Aries, France,cleverly remodelled for living in during the middle ages.The ‘squatters’ were evicted in 1830, their dwellingsrazed and the remaining fabric reconstituted as aruin. 19was once the common property of the people. ‘Thelandlord owns the peasants but the peasants ownthe land’ is a Russian saying from the days whenlandowners measured their wealth in ‘souls’. InEngland most people mistakenly assume that thepathetic remnants of the common land are in factcommon property. This belief can be seen as asurvival of ancient popular wisdom. For in legalfact, as the historians of the commons assert, ‘Allcommon land is private property. It belongs tosomeone, whether an individual or a corporationand has done so from time immemorial.’ However,they go on to conclude: ‘Common rights were notTop: Seventeenth century squatter’s house on the villagegreen at Airton, Yorkshire.Bottom: Roadside squatter’s cottage in Essex, c1780. 20Daily Telegraph 6.9.1963something specifically granted by a generouslandlord, but were the residue of rights thatwere once more extensive; rights that in allprobability antedate the idea of private propertyin land, and are therefore of vast antiquity.’ 2The Forcible Entry Act 1381 was enacted toestablish order in land disputes. It forbadeforcible entry on any land for any purpose – or soit appeared. It states:‘And also the King defendeth that none fromhenceforth make any entry into any lands andtenements but in case where entry is given bylaw and in such case, not with strong handnor with multitude of people, but only inlawful peaceable and easy manner. And if anyman from henceforth do to the contrary, andthereof be duly convict, he shall be punishedby imprisonment.’In other words, even a squatter who was on landwhen there was a forcible entry committed couldprosecute for forcible entry, affording squattersprotection from violent eviction. Technicalamendments to the Forcible Entry Acts weremade by the Acts of 1391, 1429, 1588 and 1623.The rights of access to, and use of, commonland were absolutely vital to the self-sufficientpeasant economy of the 14th century, eventhough the extent of such land had already beenreduced by enclosures. The series of dreadfulepidemics known as the Black Death reversedthe trend. Mud enclosed arable land reverted torough pasture and waste, and many holdingswhose inhabitants had died or fled were squattedby landless survivors. By the latter half of the16th century the population of England andWales had reached the same size as before theBlack Death, and there was once more enormouspressure, both from lords of the manor and frompoor commoners, to enclose the common land.A folklore (or common law) of squatting grew up.Both in Britain and in many parts of Europe, itwas widely accepted that if a person succeededin erecting a dwelling on common or waste landbetween sunset and sunrise and lighting a fire init, they could not lawfully be dispossessed. Thereare innumerable variants on this formula and onthe definition of the amount of land that might beenclosed. ‘As much as he could inclose in the nightwithin the throw of an axe from the dwelling’ wasthe belief in Radnor in Wales. There are also avariety of mistaken beliefs as to the period of timefor which property should be occupied unchallengedto gain title ranging from six months to 30years. In fact, in English law squatters obtain ‘agood title’ (ie ownership) when they haveretained peaceful possession for twelve yearsagainst the owner. 3Many squatter houses of the 16th to 18thcenturies can be recognised on sight or bystudying large-scale Ordnance Survey maps. Insome counties they are built close by theroadside and parallel to it; in others they areirregularly scattered around the village green orrandomly distributed on it. One historian states:‘Manor court rolls all over England and Walescontain numerous references to these squatterson the wastes in the 17th and 18th centuries.Frequently they were people who had beensqueezed out of the lowland villages where nomore land was available. Hence in a countylike Northamptonshire we find that the socalled‘forest villages’ in the 17th centurywere on an average half as populous again asthe non-forest villages, because they hadattracted so many of the rural poor who foundthe various common rights in the forestssufficient to give them a precarious living.’ 2An Act was passed in the reign of Elizabeth 1‘against the erecting and maintaining ofcottages’, with the aim of ‘avoiding of the greatinconveniences which are found to grow by thecreating ... of great numbers and multitudes ofcottages.’ The Act was really directed against thepoor though according to one account it:‘allowed cottages for the impotent poor to bebuilt on the village waste, with the consent ofthe lord of the manor and the parish officers.Other cottages might be licensed by the justicesin Quarter Sessions, and much of the businessof the Sessions in the 17th century was takenup by the pressing question of cottages, withordering their demolition or sanctioning theirerection, always as a measure connected withpoor relief and the parish poor.’ 4In 1662, after the restoration of the monarchy,the Act of Settlement was passed to restrict themovement of those who were not freeholders orwho could not afford a rent of £10 a year. It declaredthat ‘by some defect of the law, poor peopleare not restrained from going from one parish intoanother and,therefore do endeavour to settle themselvesinthoseparisheswherethereisthebeststock,the largest commons or wastes to build cottages,and the most woods for them to burn and destroy’.104105

Winstanley and the DiggersBetween these two pieces of legislation directedagainst ‘cottagers and paupers’ ie squatters, thereoccurred the most famous of what we would nowcall ‘ideologically-inspired squats’ – when GerrardWinstanley and others calling themselves the‘Diggers’ took over waste ‘common’ land at Waltonon-Thamesin Surrey in 1649 and started tocultivate it communally. They hoped that poorpeople everywhere would follow their example andthat property owners would voluntarily surrendertheir estates and join in communal production.The Digger movement was the culmination of acentury of unauthorised encroachments on forestsand wastes by squatters and commoners, pushedon by land shortage and pressure of population.Setting the background, historian ChristopherHill wrote:‘The Midlands rising of 1607, in which we firstcome across the names Levellers and Diggers,was caused by enclosure. Risings in WesternEngland in the late 1620s and early 1630sturned in large part on royal enclosure andrights of squatters in the forests. Just as thebreakdown of the authority of the state churchin the 1640s allowed underground sects tosurface, so the breakdown of secular authorityreleased a series of riots against enclosure allover the country.’ 5In the pamphlet The New Law of Righteousnesswritten in January 1649, Winstanley set out hiscriticism of the private appropriation of land:‘And this is the beginning of particular interest,buying and selling the Earth, from one particularhand to another, saying “This is mine,” upholdingthis particular propriety by a law ofgovernment of his own making, and therebyrestraining other fellow-creatures from seekingnourishment from their Mother Earth. So thatthough a man was bred up in a Land, yet hemust not work it for himself where he would,but for him who had bought part of the Land,or had come to it by inheritance of hisdeceased parents, and called it his own Land.So that he who had no Land was to work forsmall wages for those who called the Landtheirs. Thereby some are lifted up in the chairof tyranny, and others trod under the footstoolof misery, as if the Earth were made for a few,and not for all men.’ 5This is the cry of the landless peasant everywhere,in his day and ours, and throughout hisTHE DIGGER’S SONGYou noble Diggers all, stand up now, stand up now,You noble Diggers all, stand up now,The waste land to maintain, seeing Cavaliers by nameYour digging does disdain, and persons all defame,Stand up now, stand up now.The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now, stand up now,The lawyers they conjoin, stand up now,To arrest you they advise, such fury they devise,The devil in them lies and hath blinded both their eyes,Stand up now, stand up now.The clergy they come in, stand up now, stand up now,The clergy they come in, stand up now,The clergy they come in, and say it is a sinThat we should now begin, our freedom for to win,Stand up now, stand up nowStand up now, Diggers all.The tithes they yet will have, stand up now, stand up now,The tithes they yet will have, stand up now,The tithes they yet will have, and lawyers their fees crave,And this they say is brave, to make the poor their slaveStand up now, Diggers all.Propaganda produced by the Diggers in the seventeenthcentury, (the language has been modernised). 5pamphlets and public manifestos, Winstanleyreturns to the same theme, declaring for examplein his New Year’s Gift for the Parliament and Army:‘Therefore I say, the Common Land is my ownLand, equal with my Fellow Commoners; and ourtrue propriety by the Law of Creation. It is everyone’s, but not one single one’s.’The Diggers’ invasion of ‘common’ land next toCampe Close at St George’s Hill began on Sunday1 April 1649 and the Council of State was immediatelyinformed by a local landowner that peoplewere sowing the ground with parsnips, carrots andbeans, with the intention of restoring ‘the ancientcommunity of enjoying the fruits of the earth’.The Council of State sent the letter on the sameday to Lord Fairfax, Lord General of the ArmedForces of the Commonwealth, urging him to sendsome forces ‘to Cobham in Surrey and thereabouts,with orders to disperse the people so met, and toprevent the like for the future, that a malignantand disaffected party may not under colour of suchridiculous people have any opportunity to rendezvousthemselves in order to do a greater mischief.’ 6The Diggers were harried and eventually transferredthemselves to Cobham Heath, a mile or twoaway, where after further persecution, and theburning of their huts and furniture, their settlementwas abandoned, exactly a year after the originalsquat. By the beginning of 1650, other Diggercolonies were beginning to appear, at Wellingboroughin Northamptonshire, Cox Hall in Kent, Iverin Buckinghamshire, Barnet in Hertfordshire, Enfieldin Middlesex, Dunstable in Bedfordshire, Bosworthin Leicestershire, and at unknown placesin Gloucestershire and Nottinghamshire. 5 But bythe end of that year the movement had collapsed.Squatting by stealthSquatting continued, as it has always done, on thelevel of the individual family. Most of the privatisationof common land was accomplished not by thelandless peasantry but by landlords with the aidof Enclosure Acts and by wealthy people whoseencroachments were unchallenged. Between 1760and 1860 the enclosure of common lands bylandlords was at its height. In Radnor between1810 and 1882, there were 34 Acts of Parliamentfor enclosing some 50,000 acres of common land.‘A very small portion of this large area wasreserved for the commoners; most of it wasadded to the existing estates of landowners, andthe first action of many landowners was to evictthe squatters. In this they usually succeeded,but in one famous case a solicitor of Presteign(Mr Cecil Parsons) fought the squatters’ caseup to the Court of Common Pleas, in 1835, andwon. When the news of this decision reachedthe backwoods of Radnor, church bells wererung, dinners given in celebration, and ‘thecottagers’ champion’, as Parsons was called,received a handsome presentation. The effigiesof certain landowners were publicly burnt.’ 2John TophamTheirs was a dramatic version of battles thatwere fought all over Britain. Perhaps the feelingthat the Crown in particular had usurped the land,was responsible for the widespread nature of squattingon land which in various guises belonged tothe royal family. The Rev. S. Baring-Gould claimedthat the building in about 1835 of Jolly Lane Cot,near Nexworthy on Dartmoor, was the last occasionwhen the custom of building a house betweensundown and sunrise was put into practice. A smallrental was put upon the place by the Duchy ofCornwall. But in 1932 another writer declared that‘only a few years ago several small enclosures withcottages were stated to have been built on Dartmoorbetween sunset and sunrise.’ 7 A Victorianhistorian of Windsor Castle says that at one timepaupers had squatted in many of the towers. 8 Inthe early 19th century an apple woman called AnnHicks annexed a portion of Hyde Park at the eastend of the Serpentine. Her shanty was known asthe White Cottage, and was steadily improved.‘From a stall with an awning, a lock-up shopwas evolved. Then a small back enclosureappeared including four walls with windowsand a door.The height of the building was nextincreased, and under the excuse of repairingthe roof a chimney was provided. The nextstep was to get a hurdle erected to prevent thecurious from peeping in at the window. Thefence by degrees was moved outwards, until afair amount of space was enclosed. At thisstage the authorities interfered and securedpossession of the domain of Ann Hicks whowas granted a small allowance.’ 9Another squatter who gradually increased herholding was Mrs Kit Nash, who at the turn ofthis century had a cottage between Hamer Greenand Burnham Green in Hertfordshire.‘Year by year she extended the boundaries ofher plot by trimming the bramble hedges alwaysfrom the inside, allowing them to spread andflourish on the outside. There was a complaint,but she dealt with that by brandishing apitchfork. She had only a squatter’s title tothe land, but after her death this was legallyregistered in her name by the local authority,and it was sold, so that they could recover themoney which she owed them.’ 10By comparison with the landless labourer, thesquatter had seized a degree of freedom which, asmy examples indicate, was tenaciously extendedover time. One writer cites the complaint of theSeventeeth and eighteenth century squatters.Top: Extract from a petition by a family who had beenforced by the Lord of the Manor of Stoke and Stoughtonto demolish their squatted mud cottage.Following the petition, the Lord granted them analternative site. 1806. 22Middle: Petition by roadside squatters appealing to theDuchess of Bridgewater for her protection after a noticeto quit had been served by the local surveyor.After 1831. 23Bottom: Certficate from the Rector of Wheathamstead insupport of a squatter on Harpenden common whofeared that the Steward of the Manor would demolishhis cottage. 1726. 23churchwardens of the Oxfordshire village ofHeadington Quarry, about the Steel and Parsonsfamilies there: ‘Some 40 or 50 years ago twosmall huts were erected upon this land, and theywere inhabited by some poor people, and fromtime to time the buildings have increased intotwo cottages and the occupants have enclosed apiece of the ground as gardens, but for none ofthis do they pay any rent.’ 11Property: theft or freedom?There is a gulf between the approach to squattingof Gerrard Winstanley and that of Mrs Kit Nashwho had poachers’ pockets sewn into her skirts.It is the gulf between socialism and individualism:a gulf spanned by the French anarchist Pierre-Joseph Proudhon in two famous utterances. In1840 he gave the world the phrase ‘Property isTheft’ (and these words were painted in lettersthree feet high on the walls of No 144 Piccadilly(p 22) in September 1969). But he also assertedthat ‘Property is Freedom’, thinking of people’sright to control the house they live in and theland and tools they need to work and live. 12‘No man’, said Winstanley, ‘shall have any moreland than he can labour himself, or have othersto labour with him in love, working together andeating bread together.’ This is precisely thedifference between the appropriation of land bysquatters and that by enclosers.There were a few examples of ‘ideological’squats at the turn of this century. At Whitewayin Gloucestershire, a Tolstoy an anarchist colonywas set up in 1898 and the title deeds to 40acres of land were ceremonially burnt tosymbolise the fact that it was held in common.Eight years later, ‘land-grabbers’ occupiedempty sites in several towns including ManchesterLeeds, Plaistow and Bradford. The basic idea ofthe movement according to one writer ‘was tograb land (or in some cases borrow it) that wasnot being used and to cultivate it whereby thehungry could grow their own foods and obtain aliving from their own methods.’ 13 It was a responseto massive unemployment, poverty and hunger andthe organisers saw the ‘back-to-the-land’ approachas a way of breaking workers’ dependence on thecapitalist system. In the event, none of theseactions lasted very long. The Manchester occupationwas quickly broken up with police support: ‘Theturf buildings were knocked down, the crops106107

Bradford City LibraryBradford City LibraryBradford City Libraryuprooted and the cooking utensils thrown downthe highway.’ In Leeds‘a gang of about 20 roughs led by a wellknownlocal character raided the camp late atnight. The camp was completely destroyed,most of the campers were beaten up and alltheir possessions heaped on the camp fire. Itseemed pretty obvious that the landownershad paid the gang to carry out the raid.’ 13The Bradford occupation was more fortunatebut finally petered out after three months due tolack of support from the authorities, shortage ofmoney and the approach of winter.Perhaps a closer attention to local history, courtrecords and the Land Registry will reveal forgottensagas of the deliberate and public occupation ofempty property or of vacant sites in the cities. The19th century provides many examples of battlesfought both in the courts and through direct actionto resist the enclosure of urban common land, andthose struggles are responsible for the survival ofany urban commons today. But in these disputesthe individual encroacher was just as much theenemy as the lord-of-the-manor encloser.Evidence of the extent of urban squatting ishard to find, partly because illicit occupiers of abuilding would be unlikely to advertise theirpresence. For the overcrowded urban poor of the18th and 19th century city, the difference inquality between the poorest of lodgings for whichrent was paid and those which were occupiedwithout payment was almost academic. TheMedical Officers of the London Parishescomplained to the Poor Law Commissioners in1838 of ‘the habit at lodging in previouslydeserted houses, cellars etc’, and many of theoccupants of hovels, sheds and cattle-stalls livedbelow the level of a three-pence-a-week rent. 14In the growing British cities of the 19thcentury, it is easy to imagine that there werehouses whose owners – through death, emigration,imprisonment or abandonment – failed to collectPostcards produced by the Girlington ‘Klondike’ inBradford, 1906. Derelict land owned by the MidlandRailway was taken by ‘land grabbers’ who plantedvegetables and built small stone huts. The squat wasstrictly organised with recognised leaders, communalmeals and a ban on liquor. Impassioned orators,including a local councillor, spoke at open air meetingsattended by up to 1,000 people. Winstanley and WilliamMorris were much quoted.their rents, while the tenants became the de factoowners. This might only be revealed by 20thcentury redevelopment by which time theoccupiers would have acquired what is universallyknown as ‘squatters’ rights’. Such instances onlybecome news when the title is disputed.Registration of title to land was introduced inEngland and Wales by the Land Registry Act 1862,‘to give certainty to the title to real estates and tofacilitate the proof thereof. The registration systemat present covers areas of England and Walescontaining about two-thirds of the populationand will eventually cover the whole country.Even then, it will still remain possible to acquireownership through squatters’ rights by squattingin the same place for 12 successive years (p 105).In the past, there was no equivalent of thesquatters’ movements of today, precisely becausethere were never such glaring examples of bothpublic authorities and private investors choosing toleave habitable properties empty over long periods,rather than rent them to people in need. In theperiod which ended with the First World War,when 90 per cent of housing was privately rentedand there were no rent acts, ordinary houses inplaces where there was any demand were seldomempty for long. When a speculator miscalculatedas in Pimlico in London, where the builder Cubittanticipated another Belgravia of opulent onefamilyhouses, but rapidly adapted to a humblermarket to get some kind of return on hisinvestment, it was unusual for landlords to foregorent income altogether. The tendency towards thereplacement of a multiplicity of landlords ofordinary rented housing by one monopoly landlord– the local authority – is a side-effect both ofchanges in the economics of housing and ofofficial policy. I have illustrated elsewhere 16 theresulting loss of freedom of choice and ease ofmovement which was once taken for grantedeven by very poor families. The state has failed toprovide for the consequences of its intervention.The 1945/46 squatters’ movement (Chapter 9)was preceded, not only by several wartimeseizures by homeless families of emptyrequisitioned property, but also by an event justafter the First World War. During that war thegovernment had built a large colony for Belgianrefugees, Elizabethville, at Birtley in CountyDurham. George Woodcock records that‘there were about 650 concrete huts with drainage,water, electricity, roads, a school and ahospital. The whole place was surrounded byheavy park railings with locked gates. At theend of the war the refugees returned home, thecamp was deserted and locked up. Meanwhilethe housing shortage had become acute, andone night the gates of the camp were brokendown and a number of working class familiesestablished themselves in the huts. The numbersoon increased, and before the authoritiesawoke sufficiently to take action, a large settlementwas already in being. The government,realising that some considerable measure offorce would be necessary to eject the newdwellers, gave in and accepted the situation.’ 17This same district of villages huddled aroundcoal mines has a tradition of another kind ofsquatting. Before the nationalisation of the coalindustry in 1947, the miners and their familieslived in houses belonging to the colliery owners. Aminer who was sacked was simultaneously evictedfrom the company’s housing. Such families wereobliged to move into the ‘crees’, cabins or huts theyhad built in the allotment gardens which theyrented for 2s 6d a year from the local council. Inthe thirties, 32 families were living like this onthe allotments in Horden, County Durham, whileothers were reduced to living in caves along thebeach between Easington Colliery and Blackball.In one instance, a family was evicted three timesin two days because the man was sacked from onepit, taken on at another belonging to the samecompany but sacked when this was discovered,and sacked from a third in similar circumstances.His unfortunate family shunted its belongings ona handcart from one village to another, ending inthe allotment gardens. Boys who lost their jobsat the mines would be obliged to leave theirparental colliery-owned home, and move into ahut on the allotments, returning at weekends fora bath. One family at Horden Colliery, resignedto living on the allotments, bought with theirsavings a hut from a mail-order firm andcontrived a kitchen and other amenities. 18The pre-history of squatting can only be foundin the margins of the history of housing. But thefragments of folklore and anecdote that weaccumulate, whether of the occupation of land bythe landless in rural society, or that of houses bythe homeless in urban society, have as a commonfactor the assertion of the very ancient beliefthat once we are on this earth we have a naturalright to a share of it.•108 109

The post war squattersby Andrew FriendWhat happened when there were no homes for the World War Two heroesBritain entered the Second World War with anacute housing crisis. During the war theconstruction industry was cut by two-thirds andthe remaining work force was almost exclusivelyengaged on state contracts. As a result, six yearsof house building was lost, an amount equivalentto nearly ten per cent of the housing stock. Inaddition, bombing destroyed 110,000 houses andnearly 850,000 more were evacuated because ofstructural damage. Demobilisation meant thatnew households were forming at anunprecedented rate, nearly a million marriageshaving taken place during the war.The last two years of the war saw worseninghousing conditions accompanied by a growingwave of hope and determination that there wouldbe no return to the poverty and unemployment ofthe thirties. In the coalition Cabinet, the Labourleadership began to have increasing influence onsocial policy and the planning of post-war rebuilding.By late 1944, a section of theConservative Party had swung behind the bannerof social reform. Their spokesman Quintin Hoggsummed up their position in a memorablesentence: ‘Either we give the people social reformor they will give us social revolution.’ 1 For theLabour Party, state welfare provision and theexpansion of public housing were long-held goals.For the ruling class, the major section of whichidentified with the Tory Party, there would beclear economic advantages in having a healthyand well-housed work force after the war.The result was a measure of consensusbetween the two parties which were both, by theend of 1944, making competing promises onhousing policy. The public inference was that theorganisational power of the state would not onlyharness the private building industry to the needsof the public sector, but would also override theshort-term interests of property, as it had throughrequisitioning during the war, in order to achievedecent housing for all. Throughout the war years,government leaders had been making extravagantappeals to national unity and obtaining theloyalty of the working class by making promises.As the General Election campaign of 1945 gotunde way, the homeless and those living inovercrowded conditions had high expectations ofbeing helped to obtain improved housing.Phase 1 – the VigilantesIn May 1945, the male members of seven familieswere arrested after occupying an empty mansionat Blantyre in Scotland. They were fined afterbeing convicted of trespass – unlike in Englandand Wales, a criminal offence in Scotland sincethe Highland clearances. A few weeks later inBrighton, a group called the Vigilantes beganbreaking into empty houses and installing boththemselves and other homeless households. Thegroup’s activities received considerable localsupport in an area where landlords often leftproperty empty in order to profit from highholiday rents during the short summer season.Civil action for possession, which could only bestarted by the absent owners, was slow. By thefirst week in July, the Vigilantes (or ‘the SecretCommittee of Ex-Servicemen’) were claiming amembership of 1,000 and squatting was beginningto spread along the coast to other resorts and tocities like Birmingham, Liverpool and London.This movement was the result of local initiativesrather than an organised extension of activity bythe Brighton group. However, the press, by reportingeach incident in some detail, helped to establishcommunication and from this a measure oforganisation was fostered. By mid-July, leadingmembers of the Brighton group – anarchists with110Chapter9experience of unemployment and anti-fasciststruggles before the war – were travelling toother towns to address public meetings.The role of press reporting in helping squattingto spread was well understood by Churchill. In aCabinet memorandum which advised law officersand the police to consider ‘all means to puttingan end to these pranks’, he asked the Minister ofInformation to ‘induce’ the newspapers to curtailtheir coverage. Although avowing they wereapolitical, the Vigilantes raised a radical demand:that empty property in the private sector should berequisitioned for immediate use by the homeless.As one of its last acts, Churchill’s governmentboth in response to public support for theVigilantes and as a piece of electoral opportunism– introduced powers for local authorities torequisition for civilian purposes. This move, plusincreased police action and the advent of a Labourgovernment, led to the decline of squatting inprivate property until the following year.The requisitioning measure gave localauthorities the power to take over empty housesbut did not impose a duty on them to do so. Theextent to which this power was used varied widely.Extensive requisitioning took place in some Labourcontrolledtowns and cities where there werelong waiting lists. Bristol’s policy of requisitioningevery house advertised for sale attracted thewrath of the London Evening Standard whichsaw it (correctly) as a threat to the privatesector. In other areas where lawyers and estateagents were on the council, the powers appear tohave been used little, if at all. Reynolds Newsnoted ‘there is a deep suspicion that whilerequisitioning notices are being put up to allaypublic criticism, a go-slow policy is being followedin order to prevent good homes being taken over.Owners of homes in the £4000-£5000 range feartheir use by the homeless will reduce their value.’ 2Phase 2 – taking over service campsAs demobilisation gathered pace at the beginningof 1946, overcrowding grew, prosecutions forvagrancy became more frequent and waiting listsgot longer. There was growing disillusionmentwith the slow progress of the ambitious housingprogramme. At the same time, army camps anddepots were emptying.The second phase of squatting began in the latespring of 1946 and involved the mass takeover ofservice camps. The first recorded instance was ofa family moving into the officers’ mess of anunoccupied anti-aircraft camp outside Scunthorpe,on 8 May. 3 By the next evening, news of theiraction had travelled round the town and they hadbeen joined by other families who took over Nissenhuts on the site. This pattern was repeated atother camps in the area as families broke intothem, chalked their names on doors ofparticular huts (the common way of booking in)and then left to fetch their possessions.After these events were reported in the press,several camps around Sheffield were taken over.During the following month, 20 local authoritiesreported squatting in their areas – and by thebeginning of August, the movement had spreadthroughout the country.Once again the role of the press in reportingboth the seizures and the authorities’ confusedreactions to them, had a major influence on therapid spread of squatting. On 6 August, aNorthern Command spokesman was reported assaying ‘The army cannot prevent squatters frommoving into disused military installations and itFamilies occupying empty army huts at Stratford,East London in 1946. By the autumn of that year,45,000 people were squatting in 1,000 ex-service camps.

cannot turn them out’. 4 Over 30 camps, in widelydifferent areas, were taken over in the next twodays. The following day the War Office issued astatement saying that the squatters were trespassersbut that no immediate action would be taken.As the extent of the administrative confusion becameclear the pace of the occupations accelerated.A report from the News Chronicle gives a goodidea of what life was like in the Nissen hut colonies:‘It was a case of first come first served when itbegan. But only a few days passed before thechaos began to sort itself out. A camp committeewas elected and began to establish its authorityand the camp began to crystallise into acommunity of 500 men and women determinedto make the best of their new homes. Subcommitteeswere established for health, socialactivities, construction work and campamenities. A communal kitchen is operatingand there is a clinic where the services of alocal health visitor are available. Plans are nowbeing considered for a co-op shop. Eight shillingsa week is regularly collected for the camp fund.Women play a big part on all the organisingcommittees and a nursery has been organised.There is an almost palpable feeling of freedom,of having emerged into a wider life than hadever been thought possible. Help is freelygiven to those unable to do their own repairs.Builders, carpenters and decorators help theirneighbours without any thought of payment.Mrs Sones is camp secretary. I asked her ifshe thought they would stick it out. “Just goround and tell them they have got to go, andsee what they say” was her reply.’ 5The degree to which families had to fight tostay where they were depended largely on theattitude of the local authorities. In some placesthere was tacit collusion reflecting antagonismbetween local and central government. For instancein Berkshire, a rumour went round a village thata local camp had been allocated by the War Officeto Polish soldiers of General Anders’ Army. Thewhole village, with a population of 3,000 and awaiting list of nearly 1,000, mobilised en masseto take the camp over. The next day AmershamCouncil issued a statement saying that it hadbeen requesting the camp to be turned over to itfor housing for the previous six months and hadreceived no reply from the War Office. While theCouncil did not wish to take sides in the disputebetween the War Office and the squatters, itwould connect the services and provideamenities in the interests of health and safety.In other cases squatters met with both refusalof services and threats of being struck off thewaiting list for permanent housing. Refusal ofregistration for milk rations became a means ofharassment. In such areas the camps linkedtogether to form Squatters Protection Societies aswell as organising internally. Where confrontationswith local authorities took place, the strongdegree of support for squatters became obvious:‘A flag flew over the Manor Lane gunsite inSheffield last night. The squatters had won aday long battle with city officials against removalto the workhouse from their Nissen huts.Earlier, hundreds of people had lined theroads leading to the camp to watch the arrivalof police, aldermen and officials. With themcame two double-decker buses, an ambulance,police radio cars and two lorries carryingdemolition men.Men, women and children were cheered asthey faced the eviction party at the gates. Theylistened while Alderman F Thraves, Socialistleader of the City Council, tried to persuadethem to leave in their own interests. This wasthe signal for a general outburst. “We’re notgoing to the workhouse. Our men did not fightto go to the workhouse. How would you like totake your wife to Firvale?” women shouted.Deadlock was reached when the foreman ofthe demolition gang told the officials his menrefused to pull down the huts while the peoplewere in them. At this point the official partyretreated.’ 6In Bristol, where a ‘squat city’ of 800 peoplehad formed, the local Council was split by theissue. While some councillors publicly supportedthe squatters and called for conversion work to bedone on the camp, the Council’s leaders held thatsquatting was ‘akin to mob law’ and set dangerousprecedents through by-passing the waiting list. AsService camp squatters in 1946. Top left: A barricade ofarmy lorries fails to stop an ex-sailor and his wife frommoving into a camp near Amersham. Top right: Twosquatters constructing a radio set for their Nissen huthome at Bushy Park, Hampton. Bottom: Collectiveorganisation of repairs, cooking and child care was afeature of life in many squatted camps as shown in thisformer US Air Force dance hall used as a nursery for100 children. Far right: Langley Way, Watford.KeystoneFox PhotosFox Photosa result, services were refused on the groundsthat if they were connected the squatters wouldstay and a slum would develop.Six months after the Fielding family movedinto the officers mess at Scunthorpe, Parliamentwas told that 45,000 people were thought to besquatting at 1,000 sites throughout the UnitedKingdom. The camp squats represented directaction and self-organisation of the homeless on amassive scale. As such they presented problemsof management and public order to the state.Army units did not see the protection of unwantedcamps as part of their duty – in fact it seems thatdeparting commanders often co-operated withthe first squatters to arrive, especially when theywere demobbed soldiers. Regional commandersreferred the problem to the War Office and fromthere it reached Cabinet level. On 13 August theCabinet considered a report from the ParliamentaryUnder Secretary at the War Office: thedilemma was that concessions would lead tofurther squatting whilst wholesale evictions wouldnot be tolerated by public opinion. Guarding emptycamps also presented problems: public opinionwas unlikely to tolerate refugee guards protectingthem prior to the arrival of their compatriots butthe only other troops available were new recruitsin training. The prospect of raw troops confrontingdemobbed veterans was unacceptable to theCabinet. Unable to decide on a course of action, themeeting agreed to set up an inter-departmentalcommittee to look at possible police action, thefuture of the camps in general and the possibilitiesof persuading the press to cut down on its coverage.Four days later the Ministry of Health whichwas responsible for housing issued a statementaccusing squatters of sabotaging the fair andorderly progress of rehousing and announcingthat the camps had to be cleared before winter.In fact no decision had been reached on a deadlinebut it was clearly an attempt to stem the tideof occupations. The government’s intention cameacross in its appeal to public opinion: ‘It is doubtfulwhether the people will support a local authorityin not only acquiescing to queue-jumping but ingoing further and providing the queue-jumperswith improvements in adapting the camps tofamily use.’ It was also announced that jobs ascamp caretakers would be advertised at labourexchanges in order to prevent squatting.Squatting in camps continued during the followingdays and spread to other types of building:disused schools, a race track and greyhoundstadium, and on 29 August, two big hotels in thecentre of Glasgow. Police intervention backed byScotland’s criminal law quickly brought the latteroccupations to an end but the Ministry of Healthstatement had done little to stem the tide. TheCabinet met and decided to start ‘methodicalsquatting’ or – to use the terminology of thesixties – to offer licences in short-life property.The Ministry of Health announced that in nearlyall cases people would be allowed to stay wherethey were but management responsibility wouldpass to local authorities who would collect rentand rates. Legal action would be taken only inextreme cases and rehousing would be offered tothose displaced.It was far from a total victory for the homelessor a total loss for the state as the next two yearswere to show. But the important factor was thatdirect action had been seen to change policy andto get housing for thousands of families in need.The stage was thus set for a far more directchallenge to the authority of the LabourGovernment and ‘the rule of law’.Fox Photos112113

Squatters take over luxury flats in London, 1946.Left: Moving in – Ealing, West London.Below: Belongings being handed over a locked gate at FountainCourt, Pimlico.Right: Queueing for Sunday lunch cooked on an open wood firebehind Duchess of Bedford House.Far right: Harry Pollitt, General Secretary of the CommunistParty, addresses an open air squatters’ meeting near Duchess ofBedford House (12 September).Illustrated London NewsKeystoneIllustrated London NewsIllustrated London NewsPhase 3 – into the West EndOn Monday 9 September 1946 The Times ranthis story under the headline: ‘1500 SquattersOccupy Luxury Flats. Audacious Operation inWest End’.‘Squatting spread to West London yesterdayGroups of people carrying bedding convergedon High Street Kensington at 2 o’clock in theafternoon. In a well organised operation theyseized Duchess of Bedford House – a sevenstoreyblock of flats in Campden Hill. Withinten minutes 1,000 people, about 400 families,were through the doors and being directed toindividual flats. Other Kensington premisesseized were in Upper Phillimore Gardens andin Holland Park Road.The block of flats, which command a rent ofabout £15 each, are the property of thePrudential Assurance Company but have latelybeen in the control of the Ministry of Works,who are due to carry out renovation work onthe building before returning it to the ownersfor leasing . . .Several of the families were those of servingsoldiers who spent an afternoon of their leavemoving in. The squatters were mainly youngmarried couples carrying the bare essentialsfor the night. Police arrived and madethemselves helpful to people and an inspectorarranged for a WVS van to supply hot drinks.Mr Denis Godwin, Secretary of the CommunistParty’s London District, said; “We havebeen waiting a long time for places such asthese to be taken over for housing the homeless.We hope the action taken today by 1,500Londoners will call attention to the existenceof places such as these.”Before the squatters went to bed, blockcommittees were set up to look after thearrangements for heating and cooking.Nominal rents will be collected from all thefamilies. This morning a deputation will besent to Kensington Town Hall to ask for theflats to be requisitioned and for all amenities,gas, water and electricity to be supplied.’Over the next two days 60 families forced theirway into Fountain Court, Pimlico and smallergroups occupied the 630-room Ivanhoe Hotel inBloomsbury and Abbey Lodge, a block of flatsnear Regent’s Park. The occupations wereevidently well planned and Communist Party (CP)members, many of whom had been active in prewartenants’ struggles in the East End, played aprominent organising role. From the outset, theLondon occupations had a more directly politicalface as CP councillors gave public pledges ‘to helpthis movement spread until local councils act.’Through the pages of the Daily Worker, and inletters delivered by delegations to Downing Streetand the Ministry of Health, a series of demandswere raised: requisitioning of the occupiedbuildings, connection of services and security oftenure for squatters. On questions of wider policy,the ending of de-requisitioning, central governmentcompulsion where councils failed to take overempty houses and stricter control on licences forrepairs (i e that working class houses should berepaired first) were demanded.As a way of raisingthese demands, action around Duchess of BedfordHouse was entirely appropriate as KensingtonCouncil had refused the block when offered it bythe Ministry of Works on the grounds that theflats were not suitable (i e too good for) homelessfamilies.Furthermore,the block was in a bourgeoisarea where many houses had stood empty sincethe upper class exodus during the Blitz and preciousresources were being spent on repairing itfor its return to the luxury end of the privaterented sector.Fountain Court was not such a good target,either in terms of the living conditions for thesquatters, or in terms of planned future use: aloneamong the big blocks occupied, it was already destinedfor the public sector andWestminster Councilhad already approved a scheme of works. Thisallowed anti-squatter reports to infer that all theblock occupations were the work of queue-jumpersand made it easier to obscure the organisers’ realintent – to prevent the resuscitation of theprivate sector at the expense of the homeless.During the two weeks following the Septemberoccupations, the government was thinking of wayof preventing a new wave of squatting, in theknowledge that overtly oppressive action could notbe taken against the squatters unless public opi-114115

nion had first been turned. Government strategyemerged as a combination of propaganda –primarily aimed at splitting the squatters and theCP – and deft use of the legal system and the police.A Cabinet memorandum of 12 September records:‘Ministers considered that further steps shouldbe taken to bring it home to the public that thesquatters were overriding the claims of manypeople who had been waiting a long time forhouses and that the effect of their activitieswould be to delay the completion of rehousing’.In turning public opinion, the Labour Governmentnow found willing allies in the Tory press. Itis interesting to compare the reporting of the campsquats with that of the block occupations. Duringthe summer, factual reporting on the news pageswas usually combined with human interestmaterial (e g squat births and marriages) on thefeatures pages. Editorials often congratulated thesquatters on the happy side-effect of their initiativein exposing the maladministration of theLabour Government: those members of the upperclasses who felt that the presence of a LabourGovernment in Westminster was equivalent toenemy occupation were not particularly hostile tosquatters while they confined their activities tostate property.With the seizure of privately-ownedcentral London blocks all this changed: editorialscalled for stern action in defence of the legitimaterights of property owners and rallied to thegovernment. ‘The homeless who are being dupedbytheCommunists’becamestockcharacters in thereports. The Daily Mail and the Daily Express excelledat trying to stir up feeling against squatters,by giving front page coverage to unsubstantiatedreports of householders afraid to go out shoppingfor fear their houses would be squatted and of arush to buy padlocks throughout suburbia – veryreminiscent of the same lies perpetrated in thepresent-day squatting movement. Alone amongall the papers, the Daily Worker gave seriouscoverage to the housing issues involved.At a Cabinet meeting on the day of the Duchessof Bedford seizure, it was felt that criminal prosecutionsagainst squatters could fail because juriesmight be unwilling to convict because of sympathywith the squatters cause. The government gaveinstructions to the police to guard all empty buildingsin the centre of London and all police leavewas cancelled. Further instructions were sent tolocal authorities (both in London and other majorcities) to refuse services and Sir Hartley Shawcross,theAttorneyGeneral,wasinstructed to startpossession proceedings to recover governmentproperty and to contact the owners in other cases.The Special Branch (which had to admit tohaving no advance knowledge of the occupations)was instructed to investigate the squattersorganisation and ascertain its future plans.Police cordons were set up at the Abbey Lodgeand Ivanhoe occupations. While food and beddingwas thrown in, people could not come and go asthey wished, and for the squatters it became acase of sitting it out. Confrontations betweensupporters and both foot and mounted policefailed to break the cordons. Some arrests weremade. No large blocks were occupied in the latterhalf of the week, although the originaloccupations did have a triggering effect andisolated privately-owned houses were squattedindependently throughout the London suburbs.On the political level, squatters delegations metwith consistent brush-offs. By Saturday 14September, the Director of Public Prosecutionshad obtained Cabinet permission to obtain thearrest of the five CP members prominent in thesquatters organisation – they included theLondon District Secretary, three local councillorsand the secretary of the residents committee atDuchess of Bedford House. They were chargedwith conspiring and incitement to trespass. Thatafternoon 12,000 people rallied in LeicesterSquare in support of the squatters.Two days later, the five appeared in court andwere bailed to reappear. The next day, the HighCourt granted the Attorney General an interiminjunction against the continuance of thetrespass by certain named people at Duchess ofBedford House. Downing Street promptly issueda press release intended to distort the meaningof the judgement, offering an effective mixture ofcarrot and stick to the squatting families:‘Her Majesty’s Government think it right tocall the attention of all those in unauthorisedoccupation of houses and flats and certainother buildings required for public purposes tothe fact that the High Court today madeorders at the instance of the Ministry ofWorks against various trespassers in thepremises known as Duchess of Bedford Houseforbidding the continuance of the trespass.The High Court has accordingly made itclear beyond all doubt that the action of thoseoccupying the premises without legal authorityis illegal. Those who have squatted in suchpremises no longer have any excuse for notrecognising the illegality of their actions andshould quit the premises at once. It will be theduty of the police to prevent furtheroccupations.The Government will not press proceedingsfor damages against those who have left voluntarily.HMG will recommend to local authoritiesthat those who now leave voluntarily shouldnot lose such claims to priority rehousing asthey may already have had.’The day after this press release, the families atDuchess of Bedford House announced they wouldleave the following Friday – they also asked forthe London County Council to make a rest centreavailable for those who had nowhere else to go.Before Duchess of Bedford House was evacuated,the other buildings had already been voluntarilyvacated. When the squatters left Duchess ofBedford House, The Times applauded the ‘returnto common sense’. The families, who had reducedFox PhotosFox PhotosKeystoneDaily Mail 13.9.1946Fox PhotosUnder siege at Abbey Lodge. Far left: Squatters appeal for support from behind apolice cordon. Left: Police question a woman who threw a parcel of food to herhusband inside. Above: Passers-by hear the squatters’ appeal.Keystone12,000 people demonstrate in support of the squatters(left) but the government is unmoved and a few dayslater the squatters have to leave (above) after theAttorney General is granted an injunction.116117

I asked them how they had liked squatting. ‘It’s been marvellous! No landlady to say “Be quiet! . .” When I first heard the kids making a row atBedford House I wanted to say “Sh-h-h!” We used to have to walk across our room in carpet slippers. And the bath! We boiled up water and put itstraight in it! Squatting there was an experience I shall never forget. Everybody was so kind, you only had to say what you wanted and they’d getit for you. There was no time to get disheartened, with the concerts and everthing, and we felt we were doing right, although some people mightnot think so. You see, one half of the world doesn’t know how the other half lives. As to the way the squatters stuck together, I was surprised at itmyself. People say the working classes get disheartened quickly, and even I was surprised at the way they all stood together.’Woman squatter, quoted in pilot papers, November 1946,‘Who are the Squatters’ by Diana Murray Hill.Keystonethe waiting lists by housing themselves in emptyproperty, went to a rest centre and were slowlyrehoused by the London County Council. Duchessof Bedford House was eventually returned to itsowners for luxury renting after the Ministry ofWorks had spent £5,000 on repairing it.Squatters from luxury flats in central London arrive inthe blitzed East End where they are directed to theirnew ‘home’ – a reception centre.The cause of failureIt is difficult to judge at this distance the degreeto which the Communist Party controlled theorganisation of the London occupations. It isclear that having placed itself in a position ofleadership, it failed to mobilise popular or tradeunion support and that this must be seen as amajor factor in the sudden collapse of theoccupations.During the summer of 1946, trade unionists inseveral northern towns had blacked work involvingthe wrecking of buildings as a deterrent tosquatting. Direct labour force workers in NorthLondon had organised work parties to divertbuilding materials to two squatted camps. Minersin Yorkshire had imposed an overtime ban whenmine officials had tried to evict a family squattingin a colliery house. During the week of 9-16September, officials of the building trades unionswere inundated with resolutions supportingsquatters, and demanding requisitioning and anend to the black market in repairs. De Havillandworkers in West London announced they wouldstrike if force was used to evict squatters. On theday the High Court injunction was granted, theLondon Trades Council, theoretically representing600,000 workers, backed the squatters.These events show that there was not merelysympathy for squatters among organised workers– the two groups overlapped far more than theydo now – but that there also existed the potentialfor workplace action in support of occupations ofresidential property. Yet at no time did the CP callfor industrial action to get services connected orto further the demand for wider requisitioning.This is surprising considering that in 1945 theCommunist Party, with a membership of 45,000,was at the height of its influence in the tradeunion movement. Tactics were confined to organisingthe Leicester Square demonstration andsending delegations to Atlee, Bevan and the townhalls. This meant that once the authorities’ hardline in defence of property had emerged, thesquatters found themselves increasingly engagedin conflict on the authorities terms, whether inthe courtroom or behind cordons. When the courtorders were granted, there was no attempt toorganise resistance to the evictions. Theconspiracy charges had instilled the desiredeffect of intimidation despite the scale of theLeicester Square demonstration that had beenorganised at such short notice.In retrospect, it is clear that only thewidening of support through industrial actioncould have brought an end to de-requisitioning,the declared aim of the Communist Party, bysustaining the London occupations and exposingthe contradictions of Labour’s housing policy. Thechances of success for this demand can be judgedby a Cabinet minute of 12 September. AneurinBevan, after indicating the slow progress of therehousing programme and the seriousness of thehousing shortage, requested that some Londonhotels about to be de-requisitioned should beused for the homeless:‘The Chancellor of the Exchequer and thePresident of the Board of Trade said theywould have very great difficulty in agreeing asthere was a serious shortage of hotelaccommodation in London.For the purposes of the export drive themost important thing was that buyers shouldbe able to come freely to London. Plans hadalso been laid to attract to this country in1947 about 150,000 tourists who would spenda substantial amount of foreign exchange.These plans could not be carried into effectwithout adequate hotel accommodation.’So foreign exchange was deemed moreimportant that permanent housing and derequisitioningcontinued.The winter of 1946/7 was a bitter one for thecamp squatters and ‘hut-dwellers’ as they cameto be known. They found themselves increasinglyisolated at the bottom of the housing pile – despitethe recognition they had won during the summer.As the winter approached the Minister of Health,Bevan, blamed the camp squatters for thediversion of building materials, and linked thisto the slow progress of the housing programme; aconvenient fiction given the mounting unpopularityof the government.The story of a family of six from Liverpoolillustrates the double bind many of the campsquatters found themselves in. They had movedfrom a slum house which they had shared withtwo other families, into a service camp. Sixmonths later they moved back into their originalhouse after two of their children had died ofpneumonia – overcrowding being preferable toNissen hut conditions in winter.A large number of camps had servicesconnected and although in some areas campassociations kept up effective pressure forrehousing, many of the camps taken over in1946, remained in use as the ‘runt-end’ of thepublic housing system until the end of the ‘fifties.Others were used by the social services to househomeless families and were only graduallyphased out as ‘reception centres’ were introduced.In many ways the camps became the forerunnersof today’s bed-and-breakfast establishments.The squatting movement of 1945/46 was asudden affair by comparison with the present oneand appears more overtly ‘politicised’. In manyways squatting was nearer the mainstream ofworking-class life but the unity of squatters wasfragile and quickly dissipated under the impactof adverse publicity. As a movement it drew moreon a tradition of self-help and on the high levelsof expectation fostered by the war, than on a masssocialist current consciously rejecting thereformism of the Labour Party. It is important toremember that it occurred at the beginning ofthe post-war era when the promise of the LabourParty to provide decent housing for all throughintervention in a mixed economy had yet to beexposed as a lie. The suddenness of the movementcan be accounted for by the fact that it was bornof extraordinary pressures – particularly thoseresulting from enormous population movementsin a short time – rather than from the steadyworking of the system’s contradictions that led tothe re-emergence of squatting in the ‘sixties.Ironically, had the occupations of the luxury blocksnot failed, the ‘sixties squatting might neverhave happened. For on 12 September 1946, TheTimes revealed that the Cabinet had instructedthe Home Office to draft a law making squattinga criminal offence. In the event, because of thequick collapse of the occupations, no Bill evercame into Parliament, sparing later squattersfrom the yoke of the criminal law.•118 119

Success on the streetsFour successful squatting campaigns10 Better than the telly any dayOutwitting a private landlord in London’s East End– Myrdle and Parfett Streets11 We won, you should fight them tooGrinding down the Greater London Council inWest London – Elgin Avenue12 Victory VillaChallenging the planners in South London13 Is there life after squatting?Winning a permanent home by forming a co-op incentral London – Seymour Buildings120121

Better than the telly any dayOutwitting a private landlord in London’s East End – Myrdle and Parfett StreetsCome all you good people,And hear what we sing,For a home to live in,Is a wonderful thing.With friends all around,Who all feel the same,So don’t go and join in,The Profiteers Game.From hostel to hostel,We’ve wandered around,We’ve slept in the gutter,We’ve slept on the ground,We’re all sick and tired,Of what this all means,So squatting must conquer,These property fiends.We don’t mind at all,If we kick out the police,They don’t seem to want us,To live here in peace,And as for the bailiffs,We’ll treat them the same,They all play their part,In the profiteers game.Come every East Ender,Come round and join in,We know demolition,Is a horrible thing,We must save the spirit,And fight for our lives,For our streets and the river,To all stay alive.by Ann PettittChapter10My involvement with squatting began in 1969when, as a single person clattering about on theroulette wheel of London’s housing market, IlandedinasharedhouserentedfromtheGreaterLondon Council (GLC), round the corner fromthe Arbour Square squat in the East End.The Arbour Square squat was started by agroup called the Campaign to Clear Hostels andSlums – an off-shoot of the Redbridge campaign(pp 18-21). Flats in Arbour House, which hadbeen vacant for 18 months after being emptied byTower Hamlets Council ‘for rehabilitation’, didnot squat. Most of the people involved in thistiny, informal group – including myself – did notconsider their own housing needs to be veryimportant. We continued the tradition begun inRedbridge that people who actually squattedwere working-class families, with the initiativecoming from young radical non-squatters whosemotive was to expose the inadequacies of thehousing system through the use of direct action.After almost two years of court cases,harassment, barricading and much internaldissension, the squat ended with theestablishment of the Tower Hamlets FamilySquatting Association which operated alongsimilar lines to family squatting associations inother boroughs (p 26). As its name implies, thisorganisation enshrined the principle of familybasedrespectability – single people were notconsidered ‘eligible’ for squatting. It soonacquired a waiting-list of its own and eventuallypetered out.The real impetus of squatting turned in anotherdirection. In 1970, housing provision still reflectedthe belief that young people ought to live withtheir parents until marriage and then put theirnames down for a council flat or buy a house with amortgage. But since the late fifties there had beenan increasing number of young people who hadleft their parents’ home, often because of bitterquarrels over cultural and political differences,and who then competed for a dwindling numberof over-priced flats and houses owned by privatelandlords.My own housing story was typical; a history ofconstant threat of eviction from a bewilderingvariety of flats and houses, all furnished as furnishedtenants had virtually no rights at that time.All were done up in the same taste with largebrown furniture that cost nothing because nobodyelse wanted it. Landlords charged absurdly highrents and when taken to rent tribunals, exercisedtheir legal right to throw out the tenants after six,and in some cases three, months. Tenants beganto get tired of looking for a flat, forking out fourweeks rent in advance, going to the rent tribunalwhich halved their rent and getting a notice toquit. All over London, people who could not becalled ‘families’ and who therefore had not theremotest chance of getting housed by localauthorities, were queuing up outside flat agencies,getting up early for the first edition of the EveningStandard, borrowing the universal ‘key money’,living hemmed in by junk furniture and pettyregulations and not knowing whether the landlordmight take it into his head to evict. And if one wasnot an engaged couple waiting to move into anewly-bought house, or two single men lookinglike the good guys in British ‘B’ movies of thefifties with references going back ten years, thenthere was little chance of getting a flat. Therewere a lot of rather desperate people.So why did the simple and obvious solutionnot occur to us sooner, us being well-educated,bright and all? Somehow we accepted thereasoning which implied that if one wasn’t in a‘family’, then one didn’t need a permanent homeof one’s own. My own train of thought wentsomething like this: ‘Me? But I’ve got a degree!How can I justify needing to squat? I don’t lookdeserving enough. It’ll make squatting look sillyif people like me do it, with no cockney accentsand no children.’ Then it occurred to me, and tomany others like me, that if people like us didnot squat, private landlords could carry on doingwhat they liked – and anyway, didn’t we, afterall, need housing as much as anyone else? Thenthere was another argument in favour of squatting,more forcible than all those rationalisations: wehad nothing to lose, since even if we played thegame right and housed ourselves ‘legally’, westill got thrown out anyway.Myrdle StreetThere was then the question of where to squat.We chose a short street of three-storey terracing(four if you count the basement) called MyrdleStreet, just to the east of the City of London. ‘We’consisted of myself, at that time employed as ateacher and four others, all unemployed and allof whom had been involved in the Redbridgesquat or in libertarian politics.David HoffmanThe housing was privately owned, much of itby Epracent, a small textile business. In thefifties Epracent had bought a lot of properties inMyrdle Street and adjacent Parfett Street for afew hundred pounds each, and was allowingthem to run down by failing to carry out repairsand leaving houses empty as tenants died. TowerHamlets Council had designated the area forclearance but had, as yet, no plans forpurchasing the properties. The house we pickedhad been empty for two years and others hadbeen empty for up to four.We squatted No 20 Myrdle Street one night ofnervous fiddling with windows and jemmies inMarch 1972. We bunged in our furniture,reconnected the electricity, decorated the placeand it became a cheerful – well, not always, butcosy – home.However much we quarrelled amongst ourselvesabout the world in general, we knew wewould fight together to defend our home. Therewasn’t any argument on that point. If Epracenthad offered us a rent book, we would have paid upprovided the amount was reasonable. We reallywanted a stable home and we were used to payingrent. We were less clear about whether we wouldhave accepted rehousing in a different sort ofaccommodation. We rather liked living in oldhouses. Architecturally they suited our lifestylewhich was to have several people in a household,each with their own room but sharing a kitchenand living room. Houses that might have beenawkward for nuclear families were ideal for us.Shortly after we moved in, another Epracenthouse in nearby Parfett Street was squatted byfour young people – a trainee teacher, anaccountant, and an actor and director working ina fringe ‘community’ theatre (the Half Moon)which had just been established in an oldsynagogue nearby. Had these last two notsquatted, they would have had to travel longdistances to work because there would have beenlittle chance of finding housing in the East Endwhich has very little private rented housing.After three months, Epracent started countycourt proceedings against us to regain possession.We threw in as many legal ploys as our advisers– solicitors from the Child Poverty Action Groupand from a Hackney firm – could find, and weplayed for time knowing that the more publicitywe generated, the more support we’d get.The best weapon we had was our telephone.This was the secret of our success with the press.Not only could we phone them up at all hours ofthe day and night, keeping up a steady barrageuntil it began to sound like a good story simplybecause of the sheer familiarity of the name (thesame principle that sells washing powder), butthey could phone us. By the time we eventuallylost the case in court the name Myrdle Streetrang a bell with most news editors.Politically, we decided to put pressure on theCouncil. Although it was not directly involved, itcould do a lot more about housing than Epracentwho were pretty small fry landlords. As oureviction approached we marched to the Town Hallto ask the Council to take over the properties anduse them for housing and we distributed leafletsappealing to local people for support. We lookedabout as ‘local’ as a herd of wildebeeste, butreactions from many people were sympathetic.122123

(tune: ‘Wraggle-Taggle Gypsies’)Three hundred squatters stood,On the town hall steps,Their voices rang all around the town,The town clerk hid,Behind his desk,As every house came crashing down.Martin SlavinDavid HoffmanSquatters and supporters march to the town hall demandingthat an eviction by a property company be stopped, but acouncil spokesman (left) says the council will not intervene.Martin SlavinGrey raincoats and fish-net tightsMost of our active support came from people likeourselves – young members of London’slibertarian left. The Trotskyite groups did notsupport squatting at this stage, chiefly, I think,because not enough people were involved to callit a ‘mass movement’. That sweeping phrase, ‘thebroad masses of the homeless and badly-housed’,had yet to be concocted. We had the consistentsupport (by this I mean turning up whennumbers were required for marches or evictions)of people in the local Communist Party and thelocal claimants union.The grey-raincoated CP stalwarts presented apiquant contrast to our supporters in Gay Lib whowould turn up no matter how foul the weather infull evening dress, fish-net tights, silver lurexfeather boas and all. The chairman of the StepneyTrades Council would eye the leggy ‘ladies’bleakly from the shelter of the flats opposite, nodoubt wondering what strange political twist hadbrought him into such a partnership. The eyes ofthe local population opened wider and wider andthen frequently narrowed to unappreciative slits.It mattered that we made sense to them, so weprinted leaflets and got up a petition. We wereopposite a block of grim thirties tenements thatlooked like the set for a Jack the Ripper filmwith narrow unlit arches between the tiny flatsand the constant drip of water from somethingleaky somewhere.Many of the flats were still occupied by theageing CP members who had made Stepney ‘red’in the ‘thirties through organising rent strikes,fighting the fascists. These people supported usfrom the start and really seemed to enjoy seeinga bit of defiance. But taking our petition round –arguing on someone else’s doorstep why oneshouldn’t be thrown out of one’s home – wasn’teasy. Although we always stressed our willingnessto pay rent, there were plenty of people whobelieved that we squatted simply to avoid whatthey saw as ‘man’s inevitable lot’, namely thepaying of rent, and that we shouldn’t get awaywith such cheek. The best comment came from aParfett Street tenant who said we were‘better thanthe telly any day’. But people in the immediateneighbourhood had been having battles with theirlandlords for years over repairs and were glad tosee someone else standing up to them. When wefirst opened up empty houses in Parfett Street, itwas terrific to look out of the back window andsee people waving and cheering out of theirwindows.In those early days, courts gave one a date onwhich one might reasonably expect to be evicted(a practice which ended with the Myrdle Streeteviction). This was why the Myrdle Streetcampaign was so well covered by the press. Wewere on the phone non-stop and were rewardedwith the presence of many reporters and threecamera teams. One BBC2 team was inside thebarricaded house with us and this film won the‘News Film of the Year’ award! (I can’t think why,because much of their film consisted of stilted‘meetings’ staged in our kitchen and shots of uswaving at the crowd below.) Our barricades,although lovingly fashioned, were pretty symbolicsince most of our belongings had already beenshifted to our new squat round the corner inParfett Street, another house belonging toEpracent. The tactic of simply re-squatting thesame house after eviction did not occur to us then.So why did we bother to resist? Quite simplyfor the sake of the event. Given the orientation ofthe British press, events are the only means bywhich to get a message across. This makes ussound like cheap thrill-seekers. But someone hasnto call the landlords’ bluff. Evictions are acts ofviolence, and every one points out the fact thatwe still live in a society where that basic humanneed for a home is not guaranteed. Furthermore,evictions cost landlords money and every onethat is awkward to enact, because it is resisted,encourages others to resist and discourageslandlords from evicting. This is why we ‘chose’ tobe evicted rather than to leave quietly.By the time the bailiffs arrived we had about200 people sitting down outside the house. Thepolice, who had set up cordons across the ends ofthe street, trampled on people as they tried toclear a path for the man who carried a somewhatsymbolic-looking hammer. What nobody in thestreet knew was that behind the discreet-lookingcurtains, the window was solidly boarded up. Theman smashed the glass with a mighty blow of hishammer, whereupon it rebounded splendidly, andhe gave up. The police retired, everyone cheered,our supporters went to the pub, and wewondered what to do next.We settled into an odd life behind the barricades,comforting ourselves with massive mealsand climbing in and out by a ladder to the firstfloorwindow. Those of us who worked wouldBailiffs try to evict squatters from a house in Myrdle Streetbut 200 people sitting in the street and barricades concealedbehind the windows defeat them.David HoffmanMartin Slavin Martin SlavinAll I want is a home somewhere,Far away from the cold night air,Without a landlord there,Oh, wouldn’t it be luverly!Oh, so luverly,Squatting in a house,Just where we will,We won’t budge if the bailiff creeps,Over the window sill.Someones hammers bashing on my door,Don’t know what they’re doing it for,They can’t get in any more,Oh, wouldn’t it be luverly!124125

The TimesDavid HoffmanDavid HoffmanDavid HoffmanDavid HoffmanPeter Harrap/ Reportleave by this unorthodox fashion in the morningnot knowing whether the ‘real’ eviction wouldhave happened by the time we got back. Themost uncomfortable thing was going to bed atnight not knowing whether one would be wokenat dawn by the sound of a sledge-hammersmashing down the front door.About a fortnight after the foiled evictionattempt, I was woken early one morning by ashuffling noise from the back yard. I looked outof the window and saw a line of large men. Thefirst one was raising a sledge-hammer to our backdoor and the last one was emerging from the backdoor of our next door neighbours. (It was a pityabout our next door neighbours: one of them wasa self-confessed fascist and they all hated us,delighting in any pretext to call the police.) Wewere all up in the dawn grey, pulling on clotheslike we were backstage with the bell ringing. Iwent to the front window and there were anotherdozen or so biggies getting to work on the frontdoor. I went to the telephone, sat on the floor andstarted on our press and call-out lists. Someonepulled out the telephone and blue legs said‘Come on, out’. You can’t argue very much whensurrounded by big men with sledge-hammersand policemen, so out we went. We took upresidence in Parfett Street round the corner.Parfett StreetEpracent put a lock on the door of our old housein Myrdle Street and left it empty. The companyowned seven other empty houses in Parfett Street,only two of which were squatted. By now we werewell-known and were being rung up not only byfriends and acquaintances eager to get out of therestrictions of life in ‘private rentaville’, but alsoby the Social Services Department of the Councilasking if we could help their really desperatelyhomeless families to squat. One Sunday with thehelp of the future occupants, we opened up allfive remaining empty houses connecting up theelectricity as we went.We were now a very mixed group, includingseveral families, a pair of couples who would tellhair-raising tales about their partner’s violent tendenciesand a household of men who remained upto the morning of the eviction when they scurriedThe squatters’ street theatre provokes a variety ofresponses from the long-standing residents.off carrying a suitcase, anxious to avoid contactwith the police. Two of the families had beensharing accommodation with their parents whowere tenants in the street. One of these laterdenied they were squatters and ‘sold’ their squatto an Asian family, an East End practice thatbecame quite widespread.When we moved into Parfett Street we feltwe’d had enough of moving. Our old house wassquatted after a couple of months so we might aswell have moved back straightaway ourselves.We made a private resolution that this time wewouldn’t be shifted and that if we were evictedwe’d go straight back. Court proceedings weresoon started against five households.We moved to Parfett Street in February 1973and by October, Epracent once again had awarrant to evict. Over the summer we picketedtheir offices and held a street theatre event. Thislatter festive occasion came to an abrupt haltwhen, just as pretend ‘ogre capitalist’ confrontedpretend ‘oppressed tenant’, a head shot out of anupstairs window. Its owner (a real oppressedtenant) delivered the following diatribe for thebenefit of the assembled press: ‘Why don’t you allshut up! I work nights, I’m trying to get somebleedin’ sleep. Why haven’t you all got jobs?What are you all doing down here anyway, loadof bloody layabouts dressing up and dancingabout with nothing better to do?’An uncomfortable silence followed andeverybody shuffled off down the other end of thestreet to watch our oppressed tenant finallyoutwit our capitalist ogre; a performance faroutmatched in gusto by the arguments which ourneighbour’s outburst had unleashed up and downthe street.Parfett and Myrdle Streets are what isdescribed in estate-agentese as ‘intimate’. To sitby a window on the street is a full-timeoccupation for some residents. There is no doubtthat the squatters provided enormousentertainment value particularly at the height ofthe summer when our numbers were swelled byexotic visitors from the continent.As eviction time approached (unlike the firsttime we didn’t know exactly when it would happen)we carried on living strictly as usual in ourhouses. A tension developed between those whothought that barricades and a stockpile of heavythings on the roof was the best response to aneviction threat, and those who wanted to damagethe house as little as possible in order to returnafter an eviction and carry on living in it. Nobarricades at all was a bit much for those forwhom squatting and barricades went togetherlike cheese and onion. So we compromised andhad ‘light’ barricades, designed to give us enoughtime to get our knickers on in the event of adawn eviction. (Evictions always happen atdawn, which for the left-wing activist, whoalways stays up nattering until at least 2 am, isthe groggiest time of the twenty-four hours.)Another household put up ‘heavy’ barricades.The police at this time were conducting dawnraids all over London on houses with politicalconnections, ostensibly in connection withIreland, but more probably just for general infogathering.They decided to raid the house thathad (unbeknown to them) been heavilybarricaded. Naturally we all thought it was theexpected eviction being carried out in a ratheramateur fashion by three men kicking at thedoor. The Special Branch men must have beensurprised to find windows flying open all alongthe street as people shouted ‘Leave them aloneyou bastards! All they want is somewhere tolive.’ Their shouts of ‘Open up! This is the police’were met with derision: ‘Don’t come that with us.We know you’re bailiffs.’ It took them threequartersof an hour to get inside and they musthave been disappointed not to find the LondonHQ of the Irish bombing campaign.This event shook us but we still refused to makeany preparations for eviction, such as packingup stereos, bits of china, plants and so on. Ourattitude was more one of stolid obstinacy than offiery militancy. We refused to concede anypossibility that we might have to leave our homes.Homes for dogs?When the eviction did come, about a fortnight afterthe police raid, it was in style. Five pantechniconshired by Epracent (‘Look at that – they even gettheir removals for free’ one neighbour remarkedsourly) arrived at dawn, complete with a policecordon at both ends of the street. Within a fewminutes every house was entered by police andhired workmen who brought in packing casesand plastic bags into which they began throwingall our property. The operation lasted untilmidday by which time friends, neighbours anda few reporters had gathered. This time the126 127

David HoffmanDavid HoffmanPeter Harrap/ ReportDavid Hoffmanindispensable phone, with the vital lists, was in asquat across the road not threatened with eviction.When everything was packed up and we wereall standing around in the road with the presstaking photos of the family with two little girls(who were probably in the worst position butlooked remarkably cheerful about it), Epracent’sagent put flimsy locks on the doors. The reasonfor the flimsy locks then came round the corner.A van full of Alsatian dogs was driven up and aflinty-faced character led one dog into eachhouse. The press, who had been losing interestand were on the point of drifting away, leaptforward to snap the doggies and got on the phoneto their papers. An emotion united the crowd inthe street like jam reaching its setting point.Even those hostile to squatters were scandalisedat the prospect of Alsatians as neighbours. Jeers,songs (‘How much is that doggie in the window?’)and painted slogans (‘People used to live in thishouse, now it’s gone to the dogs’) were instantlythrown up. We had been downcast by theeviction but now elation spread.We phoned every squatting group we knew.We didn’t plan anything but just asked people tocome down and told them what had happened.We phoned all the papers which had yawned andsaid ‘What, again?’ when we’d told them we hadbeen evicted. The new development was a greatstory, with plenty of ‘visuals’ provided by dogshanging their heads out of upstairs windowsbarking ferociously. By the evening the streetwas full of people. Then, as it grew dark, asquatter from Lewisham who had worked forSecuricor said he was confident that he couldtake the dogs out safely. An impromptu streetmeeting was held from the steps of one of thehouses and everyone was in favour of smashingthe locks and taking the dogs out.The crowd gathered around the first housewhile the lock was smashed off and our intrepiddog-handler entered. People went to both ends ofthe short street to form a cordon in case thepolice turned up, as everyone expected them toat any minute. A shout from inside the house forOn eviction day in Parfett Street, the police seal off theroad. The squatters are ejected and their belongingsbundled into furniture vans. They decide to sleep on thepavement but later that night recoccupy the houseswhere they are to remain for many years.a broom and a plate of dog-food which were dulyprovided. Then, after what seemed like a terriblylong time, with everyone very tense, a shoutcame: ‘We’re coming out!’ Instant, completesilence fell and the crowd took a step backwardsas though a grizzly bear were about to make itsappearance in the doorway. The man appearedholding a rather pleased-looking young Alsatianon a lead and to cheering and popping flashbulbs,he led it out to a car and locked it in.We moved across the road to the second house,while neighbours swept out the first as the doghad shat in the house, and carried in mattressesfor the occupants to sleep on. The second dog wasquickly taken out of the next house and put inanother car. Then a few police arrived putting astop to any more lock-smashing. The evictedsquatters and some supporters spent the night inthe two liberated houses to guard against a raid.Early the next morning, the security firmwhich had hired out the Alsatians came toremove the dogs from the remaining houseswhich were then reoccupied by squatters. A highupofficial in the local police station later told asquatter that the police on parade had cheeredthat morning when told that the squatters wereback in occupation.Our audacity certainly made us popularlocally and it made a jaunty news story too. Asthe Guardian put it, ‘Squatters 5, Alsatian dogs0’. This time it seemed Epracent was beaten. Thecompany could have taken us to court again butpresumably we’d have had to be jailed forcontempt. And we’d gone so far that we wouldhave gone to jail for our homes. But we didn’thave to. We continued to live in Parfett Streetand are still there now, seven years later.AftermathOur policy was always to put pressure on TowerHamlets to compulsorily purchase the houses –with us in them, of course. It was potentially amost lucrative site, right next to the expandingCity and we knew that the only hope of preventingoffice development was for it to becomepublicly-owned. This was also the only way we’dbe able to stay in the houses for any length oftime. In 1975, two years after the dogs episode,the Council finally passed a resolution to compulsorilypurchase our properties but ‘with vacantpossession of the properties illegally occupied’. In129other words it was putting pressure on Epracentto get us out first.We immediately asked for a meeting withCouncil leaders and officers and, presumably onour track record, were given one. We put forwarda case that squatters were a positive and vitalforce within the community, often initiatingprojects such as playgroups for children orliteracy classes for immigrants: we argued thatsingle people had to be housed somewhere andthat we would not go without a battle as we hadput a lot of work into making the houses ourhomes. Whether it was the persuasion or thethreats we do not know, but this line met withsuccess and the Council decided to let us staywith a licence for £2 per week.At the time of our big battles we wereconsidered paragons of organisation andefficiency. Of course we weren’t but we did get afew things right. I’ve already mentioned theimportance of a phone. There’s also the point thatwe did improve our squats, carrying out structuralalterations, installing bathrooms, mending roofsand so on. People have said ‘Why bother to do allthat when you’re going to get thrown outanyway?’ But that’s the point: why accept thatone’s going to be thrown out? Someone should beliving in that house; it might as well be you.Lefties are too fond of putting themselves intocategories apart from the people whose needsthey theorise about. In Parfett Street some of uswere working-class families with children whilstothers were highly educated middle-class youngsingle people (and one of us was a grandmotherand an ex-Hackney councillor) but we all had afirm basis of common ground: our desire andneed for a home. ‘The personal is political’ is atruism that slips lightly off the lips of newlefties. Squatting shows the truth of this verywell and this is why the term ‘squatting forpolitical reasons’ is nonsensical. You squatbecause you need to and that is political.•Red is the Colour,Housing is the game,We’ll stick together,Cos’ living is our game,So squat right on thru wind and rain,Cos’ ‘Stepney Squatters’ is our name.

We won, you should fight them tooGrinding down the GreaterLondon Council in WestLondon – Elgin Avenueby Piers Corbyn‘It was a great achievement. The mostimportant thing was the Street meetingswhere we voted as one body. We decidedwhere we were going. I was excited andscared for a fortnight before the day. Iwas scared to go to court, but after it Iwas more determined. Even if we lost, itwould have been worth it – we would havewon our self-respect. I’ve never fought foranything til now. I now think more peopleshould fight. If I see any injustice againI’ll fight it.’ (Mr Callaghan, a 40-year-oldseaman from the North who came toLondon with his wife and three-year-olddaughter to look for work. He got ajob as an assistant schoolkeeper but hadnowhere to live.)Chapter11Peter Harrap/ ReportThe end and the beginning‘We won, you should fight them too. It’s not whatthey say but what we do that counts’. This is thestatement which was painted on corrugated ironin Elgin Avenue to mark the victory of squattersover the Greater London Council (GLC) on 15October 1975. On that sunny day, 200 peoplesquatting in Elgin Avenue gathered behindbarricades made of corrugated iron, wood, barbedwire, old doors and anything else people couldlay hands on. More squatters, tenants and tradeunionists came from other parts of London tosupport them. The street was full of TV camerasand journalists. Squatters climbed along roofs,some armed with bottles and stones. The Sheriff,police and GLC officials were impatientlywaiting for the squatters’ inspection team toreturn from looking at houses offered by theGLC for rehousing.An hour after the original deadline given bythe Sheriff, a representative of the team returnedand, after a quick meeting of our negotiatingteam, I made a speech over the loud speaker:‘Fellow squatters from this street and aroundLondon, members of the Paddington Federationof Tenants and Residents Associations, membersofWestminsterTrades Council,Paddington LabourParty and the Young Liberals, we can now say theday is ours. Our joint delegation has inspectedthe offers to single people in Camberwell and asample flat for the families. We are happy toreport that all these are satisfactory. We willtherefore take down the barricades and the GLCis providing us with transport to our new homes.’All around people cheered, cameras whirredand journalists scribbled. It was a moment ofgreat emotion. The pent-up anger from years ofhomelessness and being mercilessly moved onfrom squat to squat screamed out as we shouted‘EVICTIONS – OUT; HOUSING FOR ALL – IN!’at the tops of our voices smashing down thebarricades with great fervour.The Elgin Avenue victory was a massive stepforward for the whole squatting and housingmovement to the consternation of reactionarypoliticians in local and central government. Thepapers were full of doleful reflection for weeks.Despite physical hardship, despite our selfdoubtsand those of our supporters, despite abarrage of anti-squatting hysteria, we had won,and our victory was reported in Australia, Spain,the USA and the Soviet Union.The struggle began with small steps. It wouldnot have been won if we had not won those firststeps. The squat known as ‘Elgin Avenue’occurred in a number of tumbledown Victorianhouses numbered 9-51 Elgin Avenue, Maida Hill,London W9. The GLC compulsorily purchasedthese and other houses in the area during thelate sixties and early seventies, and left themempty because its plans were ‘delayed’.The first squat in the street took place in March1972 when two houses were taken over by exmentalpatients from Horton Hospital and ‘hippies’.These people were violently evicted withouta court order by police and GLC agents. But theGLC was embarrassed by the evictions and shortlyafterwards agreed to hand over empty houses toStudent Community Housing (SCH), a Camdenbasedshort-life housing organisation affiliated tothe Family Squatting Advisory Service (FSAS) (p29). In a curious bureaucratic compromise, theGLC only handed over half the empty houses inthe street and the rest were squatted that summer.My brother and I squatted with some friends inNo 19. We checked with SCH that the house hadnotbeenallocatedtothemandthenaskedtheGLCfor permission to stay. The house was suddenlyhanded to SCH, making us SCH members. I didnot become interested in what was happening tothe street until May 1973 when SCH announcedits intention to give back all its houses in thestreet to the GLC which wanted them forredevelopment but was not prepared to providerehousing for the people in them.At this time both squatting and licensing arrangementswere increasing. Licensing, althoughlargely an attempt by councils to limit andcontrol squatting, had the opposite effect in manyareas. It seemed logical to many single homelesspeople that if empty houses were available for‘giving’ (licensing), they were also available fortaking if not given. Increasing pressure fromsquatting meant that the licensing system whichinvolved handing back houses without rehousingguarantees was bound to break. Elgin Avenuewas the crunch-point for that system.Breaking the reformists’ gripAs a member of the International Marxist Group(IMG) I discussed the situation of Elgin Avenuewith comrades locally and it was agreed to ‘takeup’ the issue. Three of us produced a duplicatedleaflet which called a meeting for people in thestreet and contained three historic slogans: ‘Noevictions! Housing for all’ and ‘GLC, show us thePlans.’ A few days later 25 people met in thegarden behind 19 Elgin Avenue and discussed ourpredicament. Most people did not believe we coulddefeat SCH; some thought we should ‘squat on’elsewhere without a fight; some wanted nationalisationof all land; and some said we shoulddemand ‘Free Housing For All’. But we did decideon one thing; to struggle against the proposedeviction by SCH and the GLC. We agreed to haveregular weekly meetings and to produce a weeklynews-sheet to keep everyone involved. Thedecisions of that day were the seeds of victory. Weproduced a news-sheet called Elgin AvenueStruggles? Yes! or EASY. At this time only ahandful of people were interested in the struggle.Our first success was at a meeting at ElginAvenue of SCH members on 3 July 1973. Weproposed a resolution which read:‘SCH supports the right of SCH tenants andsquatters in Elgin Avenue to fight against evictionand for housing for all, and supports theirdecision to stay in Elgin Avenue until the planshave been thoroughly discussed and acceptedas reasonable and everyone – squatters andSCH tenants – is guaranteed rehousing’130131

The battle within the squatting movement. ElginAvenue squatters picket Student Community Housing,a licensed squatters’ organisation.Jenny Fleet/ Time OutAlthough people from SCH head office opposed theresolution (suggesting instead that we should beevicted by SCH if necessary), it was passed by 17votes to 9. But this was by no means the end ofthe matter.The principal SCH office workers werelivid at the decision and saw (rightly) the struggleas a test for their own survival. They told us thatour struggle would ‘upset the polite arrangementsSCH had with the GLC’ and that our actions were‘against the interest of more deserving people onthe waiting list’. Two weeks later they succeededin reversing the decision at another meetingwhich was not billed to discuss such a reversaland at which there were no Elgin activists.We were annoyed by this manoeuvre – thefirst of many. Our struggle had to expand itshorizons. We formed a link with left-wing SCHworkers and with the people who had just squatted220 Camden High Street, a shop near theSCH office (p 34). We organised a picket of SCH’shead office and drew in squatters and SCH membersfrom other parts of London. We put forwardacomplete line on the whole way forward for boththe licensed and unlicensed squatting movementbecause we realised that if we did not do so ourstruggle would become isolated and defeated. Weargued that licensed and unlicensed squattersmust unite in action and that all ‘official’ squattingorganisations should actively support unlawfulsquatting to get houses from the authorities. Wesaid the ‘waiting list’ was a political device todivide and weaken the real housing movement; thehomeless are not responsible for homelessnessand no-one should have to wait for a home.Instead, empty houses should be used.On 24 July, the biggest-ever SCH meeting washeld. Our resolution was passed by 50 votes to 16with 60 abstentions. Our success surprised andboosted people in Elgin Avenue, most of whomhad not believed we could ‘beat’ SCH. Yet thenecessity to get a firmer base of support wasclear.Exploding horizonsOur regular ‘street unity meetings’ had beenexpanding to involve people from nearby streetsand on 7 August we adopted the title ‘Maida HillSquatters and Tenants Association’, the aimbeing to draw in all local squatters, SCHmembers and tenants. Although initially nodifferent from what had gone before, the creationof an organisation was a great help in cementingthe struggle which soon moved to a higher plane.At the beginning of August, SCH’s head officereceived a letter from the Family SquattingAdvisory Service which the two organisations hadcooked up together. It threatened to disaffiliateSCH if it refused to keep its agreement with theGLC to clear Elgin Avenue for redevelopment. InEASY No 11 we spelt out our response:‘FSAS expelling SCH does not matter to anyonewho wants to fight for a roof, because FSASdoes not support actual struggles, they rely onthe Law. The reason why FSAS adopts thisbizarre role is because they are desperate toshow how ‘nice’ they are and deserving offinance from charity bodies. The dominantgroup in SCH office and FSAS are prepared touse the organisations and their members,which they are supposed to serve, as politicalfootballs to further their own narrow “I’m allright, Jack” interests.’We took the matter to a meeting of the recentlyformed All London Squatters (ALS – p 69). Weproposed a resolution which was agreed withoutopposition: ‘ALS do not accept that any organisationwhich professes to be part of the ‘broadmovement of the homeless and the badly housed’can support, promote, or carry out the eviction ofany people – be they squatters or tenants – whoare fighting for a roof over their heads.’It also warned that unless FSAS withdrew itsthreat: ‘FSAS will be expelled from the AllLondon Squatters organisation and the activitiesof its affiliated organisations which supportFSAS policy will be opposed in every locality.’ Ofcourse this last section of the resolution waspartly humorous because FSAS was notinterested in participating in ALS anyway.On 11 August, FSAS held a conference for itsaffiliated groups and we attended as part of theSCH contingent. We hammered away ourmessage that evictions were unacceptable andthat FSAS was consolidating the weaknesses, notthe strengths of the squatting movement.Despite the vehement opposition of some of theFSAS leadership the meeting votedoverwhelmingly for ‘the suspension of theimportant FSAS decision on SCH and ElginAvenue’. We used FSAS’s claims to democracy toforce the issue into the open. The motion askedmember groups to discuss the question and givethe votes of their meetings to the FSAS office.We sent letters to all FSAS groups requestingmeetings to discuss the issue. We organised a leftcaucus in SCH – consisting of a few IMGmembers and many sympathisers – to developthe campaign. We argued vigorously at meetingsof licensed squatting groups all over London. Themajority supported us, forcing the FSASleadership to backtrack. The FSAS managementcommittee meeting in September agreed that‘breaking, or threatening to break agreementsmay sometimes be justified’ but then voted for‘conditional disaffiliation’ of SCH from FSAS,whatever that meant.In these months we were witnessing thebreaking of the reformists’ hold on the licensedsquatting movement. We said that the ‘official’groups had a choice: either they must rely on thestate and become co-opted into the framework ofcouncil policies to provide a slum roof for thewaiting list, or they must rely on a united movementof unlicensed and licensed squatters withbacking from the labour movement. As the basisfor reformist policies shrunk, so ours expanded.Living our ideasWe did not rest on the laurels we had won so rapidlyin the three months since the first Elgin Avenuestreet meeting.The SCH left caucus and Maida HillSquatters stepped up activity to get support frombeyond the squatting and housing movement. Wetook resolutions to conferences and organisedsolidarity support for squatting and housingstruggles everywhere. We argued that SCH andother licensed squatting groups should activelytake over empty houses and fight to keep them.The first test came on 24 September at 69Warrington Crescent, a 25-room hotel-likebuilding in a quiet, expensive part of Maida Vale.A ‘brigade’ of 14 squatters from Elgin Avenueand some SCH workers took it over, hoping touse it for student and other accommodation. Butthe police were tipped off by neighbours andbroke in at midnight, only half-an-hour after wehad started the operation. Most of us spent thenight in cells and an SCH worker and myselfwere planted with drugs.In the morning the Chief Inspector gave me alecture: ‘Squatting is one thing, you have to livesomewhere. But squatting in Maida Vale isanother. Stick to your own patch’. We turned thisattack, and indeed every other attack in the nexttwo years, back onto the authorities: Maida HillSquatters picketed the police station protestingagainst harassment. The drug case against mewas dropped when the police realised I had gotoff a previous drug frame-up and that theywould come unstuck. However the SCH workerhad previous convictions and six months later hewas sent to prison. The failure of 69 WarringtonCrescent did not stop us and in the next fewmonths a number of houses were taken over,particularly in Camden.In November we initiated a conference throughwhich we hoped to draw together licensed and unlicensedsquatters. The conference, which hadbeen planned in the left caucus, was supported byALS and organised by activists at 220 CamdenHigh Street. It was attended by 150 people includingrepresentatives of licensed groups as well asmany new and long-standing ‘mainstream’ squatters.We suggested that there should be morevigorous efforts to squat better property and thatwe should defend more squats by escalatingcampaigns such as occupying more propertybelonging to owners threatening to evict squatters.The main debate was between ‘anarchist/libertarian’ currents and ‘revolutionary/marxist’currents. John Pollard and Sid Rawle, longstandingCamden squatters, put forward the callfor ‘Free Housing for All’. Our line was ‘NoEvictions – Housing for All’ and we said that thequestion of rent was largely a question of income.Our view was that putting forward ‘Free Housingfor All’ only confused the labour movement. Onegroup of ‘libertarians’ continually interrupted atthe beginning of the meeting because of theiropposition to anything ‘too structured’. Thiscurrent, in various shapes and forms, has actedon other occasions over the years to thedetriment of the movement. However, despitethese differences on general matters, it wasaccepted that joint activity could be organised indefence of squats and in mounting campaigns.Back on the home frontThe intense activity and involvement of Maida HillSquatters outside the area inspired more localactions. At the end of October we embarked on acampaign against the Church Commissioners,God’s housing managers on Earth, which hadhundreds of empty houses. They were also raisingrents and evicting squats. Our campaign helpedgain support for squatting from local tenantsorganisations in the newly-formed PaddingtonFederation of Tenants and Residents Associations(PFTRA) of which Maida Hill Squatters andTenants Association was a founder member.Many tenant activists did not accept squattingin council property (eg Elgin Avenue) becausethey believed it was somehow jumping the ‘waitinglist’ but they did think that squatting in privateproperty was useful. Our campaign against theChurch Commissioners and other privatelandlords enabled us to get support from tenantsfor squatting which was then used to support ourstruggle in council housing.These hectic external campaigns did not meanthat day-to-day life of the Maida Hill communitywas ignored. On the contrary, activity increased.Street meetings organised clean-ups to removerubbish from gardens. On 5 November Maida HillSquatters held a fantastic bonfire and fireworkswhich drew 200 local people. Jumble sales werorganised to make money and spread propagandato local tenants.At the end of November, the street meetingtook an important step forward in organisationby deciding to ask everyone to pay lOp per week‘voluntary contribution’ to a street fund tofinance leaflets, tools, paint, EASY and so on. Weopened up two empty shops and turned theminto Maida Hill Squatters community centre. Weorganised a community ‘self-defence force’ to dealwith anti-social people in the community (likethieves) and to protect ourselves from illegaleviction and police harassment. These activitieswere part of a coherent political whole. Peopledid not have to accept any ‘whole’ to join in themany parts, but the fact that some people hadsuch an understanding was very important inunifying and motivating what we did.Fighting the LEBBy November 1973, even though the GLCpoliticians were dithering, GLC bureaucrats,worried by our success, decided to use back-doormethods of harassment through an alliance withthe London Electricity Board (LEB). One day, LEBworkmen dug holes in the street outside squatsin Walterton Road, which adjoins Elgin Avenue,intending to cut off supplies but an instant picketstopped them dead in their tracks. In the daysthat followed the holes were successively dug upby LEB workmen and filled in by squatters.132133

Maida Hill Squatters, through Paddington LawCentre, issued a summons to stop the cut-offs. TheLEB was acting on GLC instructions; in legal jargonthe GLC was ‘restraining them from enteringthe premises for the purpose of connecting electricity’(p 162).Not wanting to escalate the struggleat this time, the GLC climbed down temporarilyand allowed the squatters to have electricity. However,after a month of confusion about plans forthe street (simultaneously ‘imminent’ and ‘a longway off) the GLC and LEB announced a renewedintention to cut off supplies. They wanted to testthe matter in court, and a case was scheduled.Meanwhile, other councils, particularlyIslington, were attacking squats through theLEB. ALS set up an Electricity Action Committeeof squatters from Maida Hill and Islington toobtain ‘Electricity-for-all’. The occupation of threealternative LEB showrooms was planned. On 11January 1974, 100 squatters met in KensingtonGardens and misled the police and LEB intobelieving they were going to attack theshowrooms responsible for Walterton Road, inQueensway. The crowd was led off to a nonexistentbus and in Notting Hill Gate ran intothe LEB showrooms there instead.Police were locked out and LEB officials wereasked to bring in top brass to negotiate. The policestood 200 yards away from the door as the highofficials entered and crowds of people inside andoutside the building chanted and waved. Someheadway was being made with the negotiationswhen Special Patrol Group police smashed theirway in upstairs. The occupiers were dispersedwith 31 arrests. Twenty-six of them were chargedand most were eventually fined though one manfrom Islington got a six months prison sentence.The occupation and arrests made front pagenews in most daily papers, and were reported onBBC World Service News. The police had overreacted.The GLC was embarrassed and asked tomeet us. Gladys Dimson, chairperson of the GLCHousing Development Committee, apologised for‘grave mistakes’ and said the GLC would allowthe LEB to reconnect. But the authorities stillinsisted that the court case should go ahead. TheElectricity Action Group held a number of publicmeetings around London and in Februaryorganised a picket of LEB offices first at ErgonHouse in Westminster then at the LEB headoffice in the City.At Marylebone Magistrates Court a few dayslater, the court ruled that the LEB won its case‘by the narrowest possible margin’ on the groundthat squatters were not ‘lawful’ occupiers.However the GLC and LEB had already agreedto connect Walterton Road. The campaign hadwon in the streets and lost in the courts!Permanent expansionOur concept of organisation in Maida Hill by thespring of 1974 could be best described as ‘permanentexpansion’.To ‘stand still’ would be to shrink,because many squatters naturally moved on ifthey found better homes and the most active incampaigns and struggles were often the morerecent arrivals. Squatters from Elgin Avenue wereactively involved in other militant squatting campaignsincluding the defence of No 220 CamdenHigh Street and Dover Street (p 34 and p 70).Homeless people flooded to us referred fromhousing advice centres, council social workers,the police (yes!) probation officers and from manyother unlikely sources. They were generallyyoungish workers and poor families, not the‘hippy types’ who had dominated the scene twoyears before. In March 1974, Maida Hill Squattersstarted an offensive against Westminster CityCouncil. ‘Canal Flats’ on the Harrow Road weresquatted to take the expanding flow of homelesspeople. The Council intended to demolish theseflats to make way for the most unwanted ‘parkspace’ imaginable – a six-yard strip bounded by asmelly canal and a busy road.There was much local opposition to the plansso the squat got support. The Canal Flats struggle– Maida Hill’s ‘front line’ at the time – was animportant dress rehearsal for gaining the supportthat we would need in the future. I stood as ‘theSquatters and Tenants’ candidate for WestminsterCouncil in the Harrow Road ward in the CouncilElections in early May. We made Canal Flats,Elgin Avenue and the whole question of housingan issue, arguing that squatting was thefrontline of the struggle for decent housing. I gotover 150 votes beating several other minoritycandidates.The crunch came for Canal Flats in June. Wehad pickets of the Council and at the court wherethe possession orders were being heard. Leaflets,posters and petition forms were produced. Weeven got the backing of Westminster’s Labourcouncillors but the Tory leadership was not quiteforced to give in. The downtrodden people in thebuilding were willing, if erratic, fighters but wereunsure of the need for barricades. Events on 14June helped to make up their minds. The frontpage of the Daily Mirror reported how squattersat Terminus Road in Brighton had successfullyheld off bailiffs (p 81). Canal Flats had beentipped off about their eviction date – Monday 17June. Over the weekend squatters pouredcement in water cock holes to stop them beingturned off, barricades were built and a look-outsystem outside the flats organised.Two busloads of bailiffs and police arrived at8 am on Monday morning. After a token knockSquatters evicted from the Canal Flats sit dejectedly onthe street but are cheered later in the day when theytake over other houses.on some of the doors, they used sledgehammersand a battering ram to try to get in. Rubbish wasthrown from the windows and the policesergeant in charge was hit by a dustbin load ofsewage water.It took an hour for the 70 occupants to beevicted. They sat on their belongings heaped inthe morning drizzle on the pavement. People ontheir way to work gazed in amazement and busesslowed down to look at the grim sight of kids onthe pavement. The squatters moved up the roadand took over the Social Services waiting room.The families were offered ‘bed and breakfast’.They refused it and demanded ‘breakfast for all’instead! The social workers agreed to finance avan to take people to new squats. In keeping withMaida Hill’s guarantee to find a home for everyonewho struggled, a group went off to open newGraham Lee/ Time Outsquats nearby (Westminster Council property ofcourse!) and everyone was moved at Councilexpense!The struggle made a tremendous impact onlocal tenants. For the next few weeks we couldsquat on the nearby Queens Park estate more orless at will, with the active assistance of localchildren. We made a point of putting familiesreferred to us by Social Services into those houses.Round twoThe GLC had set SCH various deadlines by whichElgin Avenue had to be cleared, but all thesedates – July ’73, February ’74, May ’74 – passedwithout incident. In May the GLC hurriedlycalled a meeting at County Hall for SCH andMaida Hill representatives to ‘see the plans’ forElgin Avenue. They showed us a very nice balsawood model. We said it looked fine but we wouldnot go unless we got rehousing for all. A monthlater GLC officials came to Elgin Avenue seekingthe names of occupants for ‘possible rehousing orlegal [ie eviction] purposes’. This was followed bypublic statements of hostility. The GLCannounced a ‘humane but firm’ policy towardssquatters in general and took steps against themin other parts of London (p 48). ALS hit back andset up a GLC Action Group comprising of‘mainstream’ and licensed GLC squatters.The Action Group started off with pickets ofthe GLC on 2 July – the full Council meeting –and three days later when Stepney Squattersmet Gladys Dimson. She agreed to meet MaidaHill Squatters on 17 July so we organised aseries of activities building up to that meeting.We painted and improved the houses in ElginAvenue and printed leaflets for the public. A ‘dayof explanation and activity’ and an ‘open day’impressed a lot of local people who read ourdisplay on the wall at the corner of Elgin Avenue(which became a permanent feature of ourstruggle) and visited our houses.On 11 July over 100 squatters and tenantsattended a public meeting to defend Elgin Avenue.The Vice Chairperson of the GLC HousingCommittee and a high official (Fred ‘I did it off myown bat’ Hogbin, a nickname earned for his rolein the LEB cut-off struggle) came. Supportingspeakers at the meeting included people fromPFTRA, Student Community Housing and WestminsterTrades Council. The meeting reflectedthe rainbow of people in Elgin Avenue’s shiftingpopulation.There were druggies,junkies,students,‘together people’, ‘nutters’, battered working-classfamilies with children and older childless couples.But despite the diversity we had a common cause.We made three points:• The struggle of Elgin Avenue was part ofthe fight against the general rot and run-down ofPaddington.• Plans for the street must be seen andapproved by the community and, whatever theoutcome, there must be no evictions and alloccupants should be rehoused.• The GLC, instead of rushing against usshould start work on nearby vacant building sites.Our style of negotiation was never cap-inhand,but ‘offensive’. To keep the initiative wesquatted empty ‘high rent’ GLC property. Labourhad supposedly abolished this category and theleadership was embarassed. Next, we took over ablock of disused firemen’s flats in CarmeliteStreet off Fleet Street which the GLC had sold tospeculators.A lively picket backed up the negotiations atCounty Hall on 17 July while the Daily Telegraphcarried a ‘no concessions’ call to the GLC. Ourdelegation consisted of representatives of MaidaHill, SCH and PFTRA. The Vice Chairperson ofthe Housing Committee agreed to offer rehousing:rented accommodation for families and short-lifehousing for single people. His offer appeared tobe in good faith but we were uneasy since weknew he was on the right of the Labour Party.We inspected the offers for single people. A few ofthem were satisfactory but as a whole they weretotally unacceptable: some were bricked up, hadall their services cut off and had holes in the roofand a few had even been demolished! We rejectedthe offer. The GLC suggested a few more tokenhouses and then announced we were ‘unreasonable’.In August, eviction summonses were issuedfor a court appearance on September 10.Still hoping to get the ‘hearts and minds’ ofmore local tenants, and anxious to appearpolitically reasonable, the GLC gave an exhibitionof the plans as we had demanded. We welcomedthis and held our own counter-exhibition andvideo show simultaneously in the same building!About 100 squatters joined the court picket.Eviction orders were granted after a three-dayhearing but we won a stay of execution pendingconsideration of an appeal.The six weeks between134135

the first court case and the appeal were a testingtime. Some of the ‘together’ people left and moredesperate people came to the street. Maida HillSquatters embarked on an extended publiccampaign, making use of the October 1974 generalelection. We intervened in election meetings,spoke at meetings to students, squatters andtenants (as far away as Portsmouth), harassedthe GLC Housing Vice Chairperson at his home,and occupied the GLC Western District Office.EASY No 63 summed up our ‘internal’ campaign:‘As the crunch looms for Elgin Avenue, DON’TJUST WATCH – JOIN ACTIVITY NOW!Together we are strong. . .’ Everyone in ElginAvenue was asked to talk about four points.• Togetherness: every house should be ‘together’and on guard against thieves. In this periodthe community suffered from fear of evictionand it was more important than ever for thestreet meetings to take action against peoplewho took advantage of the ‘untogetherness’.• Barricades: they would strengthen our politicalcampaign and viceversa.• Alternatives for housing had to be ready incase of any evictions.Squatters at Elgin Avenue (left) followingtheir successful appeal againsta possession order in the High Courtearn the congratulations (right) oflocal residents.• The external campaign.The Appeal was finally held in the High Courton 23 October. The three judges were not theusual hard line squat bashing crew but more moderate‘legal minds’. In negotiations the GLC hadgiven us a licence to stay till 1 September but hadstarted proceedings before that date. The courtruled that possession proceedings could not bestarted until licenses had been terminated. TheGLC’s case was thrown out. We were jubilant.The phoney warThe GLC was furious, its lawyers were badlyshaken and the politicians had to prepare theground for another confrontation. So nothing happenedfor a while apart from the GLC publiclyrepeating its hostility and declaring itself ‘incommunicado’.We used the time of this ‘phoney war’to throw the GLC’s arguments back in its face.The Maida Hill Squatters community had beenstrained by the summer anti eviction struggle. Theperiod of the ‘phoney war’ gave time to regainstrength. EASY No 65 which announced the victoryat the Court of Appeal discussed ‘What isElgin Avenue?’:‘To many people the most important thing aboutElgin was always “community feeling”.This feeling is really a product of the state ofthe struggle. As the struggle changed so didthe community feeling. To other squattersElgin Avenue is just “a place to live” whichneeds fighting for. To London’s homeless ElginAvenue is a place to find a home. For thehousing and labour movement Elgin Avenueis “the homeless and badly housed fightingback”. Elgin Avenue is all of these things.That’s why it is important.’A committee answerable to street meetings waschosen to produce the newsletter, collect thestreet fund, and mobilise people to come to streetmeetings. An office was opened every evening in19 Elgin Avenue to find squats for homelesspeople and be a permanent centre for repairs,education, agitation and organisation. The GLCstarted niggling harassment and broke itspromise to ‘unconditionally’ rehouse ElginAvenue families saying ‘all offers were off’. Oneparticular single mother had been given an offerwhich she accepted only to be told it wasPeter Harrap/ Report‘withdrawn’. She squatted the house whereuponthe GLC re-instated the offer!On 20 January 1975 the GLC launched amassive political offensive at a press conference.‘Smash-and-grab squatters’ were invented. This‘new breed’, it was claimed, had damaged GLChouses in Warwick Avenue and there was photographicevidence to prove it. These were the typeof ‘hippies, drop-outs, political agitators andyoung tourists’ who lived in Elgin Avenue the GLCleadership blurted, promising to evict us ‘soon’.Maida Hill Squatters hit back with a pressstatement, and All London Squatters GLC ActionGroup, the only really active part of ALS, called apress conference. We showed, also with photos,that the GLC were the ‘real vandals’ and haddeliberately smashed up houses to stop squatting.The GLC was shedding crocodile tears overisolated incidents in order to create a bogeyimage of squatters. Our counter attack negatedmost of the effect of the GLC’s propaganda locally.New ways in self-sufficiencyThere was no time to lose in the struggle to forgeElgin Avenue and Maida Hill into a self-reliantfighting force which could meet another GLCoffensive. Squatters’ work tokens were introducedas a means by which unemployed people couldwork for the community and benefit directly. Anybodywho did community work such as mendingroofs, building barricades or distributing leafletscould claim work tokens. A one hour work tokenwas exchangeable for a meal at That Tea Room,Maida Hill Squatters’ community cafe in GreatWestern Road. The tokens could not be exchaneddirectly for money and were financed by thestreet fund and subsidised by That Tea Room.Work parties consequently became bigger andmore effective encouraging even more people tojoin in many of whom did not claim the tokens.People’s Courts were formally created tocombat rip-offs by anti-social elements and tobring disputes which could not be resolved in asingle house under collective jurisdiction. ThePeople’s Court was a special open street meetingwhich was simultaneously ‘judge, jury andexecutioner’. For example, one People’s Courtbanned a certain Mousey’ from Maida Hillsquats for stealing lead off the roofs of ElginAvenue while another set up a Committee ofInquiry to resolve a dispute between two peopleover the ownership of certain property.A number of Maida Hill squatters helped RadioConcorde, an illegal radio station which oftenbroadcast squatting news.Although not started bysquatters, the station frequently broadcast fromsquats such as 101 Walterton Road, the home ofNick WatesMaida Hill Squatters’ communitycafe provides meals for people whoearn work tokens by undertakingcommunal work. Started in a squatin 1974 the cafe lasted for six years.Nick Watesthe illustrious rock (embryonic punk) band the101ers. Along with others, I was arrested forillegal broadcasting.GLC war of attritionThe GLC followed up its political attack withphysical harassment in a sort of war of attritionconducted in conjunction with other authorities.At the beginning of March, armed Special PatrolGroup police raided three houses in ElginAvenue ‘looking for bombers’. They chose themore disorganised houses in the street and brokedown doors in James Bond style.A few days later. Gas Board workers pretendingto be from the post office, cut off all the gasto Elgin Avenue squats. An official inadvertentlyadmitted that the GLC had ordered this althoughthe GLC denied this later.The excuse given by theGas Board was that the mains in Elgin Avenuewere likely to be unsafe even though tenantedhouses on the same mains were not cut off!Demolition was the next round of GLC harassment.InApril,itstuck demolition notices on emptywrecked houses and some occupied ones. This wasa clear attempt to structurally weaken occupiedhouses and demoralise squatters in them. Weresponded with pickets and presented a discussiondocument on ‘How Elgin Avenue could be vacated136137

Peter Johns/ The GuardianPress AssociationCorrugated TImes No.3A war of attrition with no surrender from eiither side.Martin SlavinPreparing for the bailiffs: building barricades andcampaigning.Tony Stevens/ Reportpeacefully’. The GLC drew back from demolitionsand agreed to leave the roofs on the derelicthouses next to squats. It reverted to guttinginstead.These trials were not the only ones.In February,the sewage pipes gave trouble and were onlycleared after much pressure. The post deliveryand dustbin collection stopped coming for a whilein the spring. When people complained that theirdole cheques had been suspended they were told:‘Elgin Avenue is empty as far as we know’. Oursupporters were kept involved in the fightbackagainst these physical harassments and all ouractions were reported in the press. So althoughwe lost our gas, and the street looked more of an‘eyesore’, the struggle gained more politicalsupport and the newer squatters in Elgin Avenuelearned quickly about their enemy.In May, the GLC housing leadership changed,but the new boss, Richard Balfe, was unwilling totalk.At the same time two local squatters repeatedtheir efforts to get into the Labour Party. Theyhad been obstructed by local party hacks twomonths previously because they were squatting.This time we put pressure on Transport House,so they were able to join and put our line withinthe party.At the beginning of June, local GLC councillorJean Merriton who had been appointed GLC‘evictions co-ordinator’, announced that the GLCintended to throw us out shortly. We replied thatwe would fight behind barricades if need be. Wefelt ready to face the GLC and the mountingpress attacks. Our confidence was boosted at thesecond birthday of Maida Hill on 14 June. Fourhundred people joined festivities on a new ‘landsquat’ behind That Tea Room. Food, amusementstalls, sale of old EASYs, fire-eating, dancing andgames followed by a bop with squatters’ bands inthe evening, reminded us all we had somethingworth defending.A long hot summerThanks to our forthright response to every action,Elgin Avenue was stronger than ever but the GLCwas determined to get rid of us. We knew somethinghad to happen. On 11 July, the infamousorganised squat-bashing campaign began withthe Harper letter in the Times (p59) and a fewdays later court summonses were served on thestreet for the second time. A lively picket markedthe first preliminary hearing at the High Courton 7 August when it was arranged for a judge toconsider on 20 August whether the case shouldbe heard over the court vacation.Elgin Avenue was militant and defiant in theface of the GLC’s legal moves. A street meetingdecided to enlarge the EASY Committee into anAction Group which met almost daily throughoutthe summer. We picketed the High Court on 20and 21 August when a judge considered theGLC’s application for an emergency (vacation)hearing. However the judge, probably preferringgolf to sitting through days of a heavy case, fixeda hearing for 8 October stating that the GLC hadhad a whole year to prepare the case, so it couldnot have been so urgent.The street meeting’s decision to buildbarricades and the fact that Elgin Avenue had bynow become a test case ‘hooked’ the media. Everythingwe did, good or bad, got publicity. Evenmore homeless people flooded to Elgin Avenue. Wehoused some by expanding into formerly derelicthouses and into those which we had repairedafter the GLC gutted them. September was ‘makeor break’ for Elgin Avenue. The internal ‘togetherness’campaign had to succeed in getting everyoneto stand and fight together.The external campaignhad to turn the tables on the GLC. EASY declaredthat ‘Elgin Avenue itself will be an exhibition ofstruggle’. Work was organised to paint and repairhouses and improve their appearance. Aphotograph exhibition was held permanently inthe office at No 19 Elgin Avenue. Its openingwords were ‘The GLC treads on the most needyand weak, but fears those who organise’.The open day and ‘best kept squat’ competitionwere a great success. Visitors were convinced thatwe should be actively supported. Local papersprinted photos of an occupant of the ‘best keptsquat’, a little girl who the ‘GLC want to evict’.The struggle made a crucial political advance atthe Young Liberals National Housing Conferencein Brighton on 7 September. The Young Liberalswere keen and active supporters of ElginAvenue. Their help included practical work inbuilding barricades and political action. Theyinvited Richard Balfe and I to speak at theconference without telling Balfe I was coming.Balfe at first refused to hear my questions (‘forlegal reasons’) but he could not avoid makingstatements after I had made a speech. He madethree baseless claims which gave us the ammunitionwe needed to split the local Labour Party:• ‘Elgin Avenue squatters are holding updevelopment.’ In fact the GLC could haverehoused us one year before.• ‘Elgin Avenue squatters are demanding tobe rehoused all together.’ A lie created by theGLC to justify eviction.• ‘The local Labour Party called for theeviction of Elgin Avenue.’On this last point we wrote an open letter to thelocal Harrow Road Ward Party and the PaddingtonGeneral Management Committee to force a debate.This revealed that neither of them had called forthe Elgin Avenue eviction. The PaddingtonLabour Party was split on the issue and referredthe matter to its executive committee.The last seven daysIn the final week, Elgin Avenue squatterscompletely turned the tables on the GLC. We hadthe initiative all the time. The GLC dithered andthen surrendered. This was a dramatic reversalof July’s week of co-ordinated squat-bashing. Theweek started with leaflets and press and TVcoverage which reached millions of people.The High Court on 8 October was buzzing withsquatters from all over London and a picket wasmounted outside. Many newspapers printed thefirst paragraphs of my court statement (affidavit):‘The history of Elgin Avenue and its occupantsis a history of the worsening housing situationand the desperate struggles of tens ofthousands of homeless and badly housedpeople in Britain today. The GLC and itsleaders sees the resistance to homelessness ofthe occupants of Elgin Avenue and theexample this sets for other housing strugglesas a serious threat to the housing policies ofthemselves and the government . . .’After three days, the Judge granted theeviction order. However, he had clearly formed the138139

impression that we were not all ‘evil scroungers’and that a confrontation with us would damagethe image of both courts and councils. In a veryfavourable summing up, he said he had ‘listenedsympathetically to some very sad cases ofhomelessness from perfectly decent people’ andadvised the GLC to make ‘a phased evacuationin discussion with Mr Corbyn’. This was a clearcall to the GLC to rehouse us. We had neverhoped to win the court case legally but we hadsucceeded in using it politically.But immediately after, the Under Sheriff,Michael Harris, warned us that he ‘may well beround early next week’. The weekend was spentenergetically building barricades and paintingslogans to make ‘a Steel Elgin’. Journalists wereconstantly around. The most untogether, freakedoutindividuals found a purpose and joined in. Acertain ‘Shaky Dave’ for example, who hadnervous shakes and normally did nothing, wasvigorously building barricades. The struggle inthose weeks did more for many people than yearsof drug prescriptions, doctors and social workers.“The Big 3’ – Michael Harris, CommanderHunter of the Metropolitan Police, and ChiefSuperintendent Howell of Harrow Road Police –paid our office a visit on the morning of Monday13 October. They asked if we would go peacefullyand warned threateningly that resistance toeviction was illegal under the Sheriffs Act. Ireplied, ‘The position is that no one voluntarilyleaves unless everyone is given rehousing’.At lunch-time we held a press conferenceentitled ‘How the GLC can peacefully resolve theElgin Avenue confrontation and how decenthousing for all can be achieved in Britain in oneUnder-Sheriff Harris (left) and Commander Hunter(right) visit the squatters’ office to warn them not toresist. The author is on the phone to his MP and is withthe squatters’ solicitor.year’. There we revealed a confidential letter inwhich a GLC housing official stated that the GLChad more empty property than it could cope with,and was considering letting to people ‘who do notnormally qualify’ (the beginning of the ‘hard-tolet’systemlater much used, p 89). The EveningStandard lessened the GLC’s embarrassment byignoring the fact that we had exposed this andinstead portrayed it as a new policy which putthe GLC in a reasonable and sensible light.Arthur Latham, the local Labour MP, sent hisapologies to the press conference and said wecould make his support public.Workers PressIn the afternoon, we received a phone call fromthe GLC solicitor asking for a delegation to meetthe GLC with a full list of all the occupants ofElgin Avenue. The meeting was bizarre. Balfestated we would all be rehoused according to thecampaign formula: families and old people in GLCrented flats, and single people in licensed shortlifehousing. We wanted to know what wouldhappen to the single people after their short-lifehousing was wanted back by the GLC and weretold the whole deal was with the full understandingthat there would be ‘every co-operation in thefuture.’ That meant we could expect to be rehousedagain! However, Balfe refused to ‘interfere’ withthe Sheriff’s deadline of Wednesday morning,claiming it was ‘impossible’ – which everyone inthe room knew was utter nonsense.Next day, GLC officials visited Elgin Avenueto check details of the families but they had nolist of short-life houses for the single people.Later that day, at a televised meeting in ElginAvenue, Michael Harris and Commander Hunterconfirmed they would come the next day (Wednesday)and asked if we would go ‘peacefully’. Wesaid all the rehousing offers had to be inspectedand accepted before we left. The full GLCmeeting debated the matter all afternoon andBalfe appeared on TV at 6.30 pm saying that thelists were ‘on their way’. The short-life list arrivedat 10 pm and our inspection team went to Camberwellin South London to look at the houses.At 11 pm a packed meeting of squatters agreeda unanimous position statement: both the ‘shortlife’and the ‘family flats’ lists had to be receivedand inspected by the time the Sheriff came and ifthey were not, we would ‘insist on time to resolvethe situation’. A delegation consisting of representativesof single people, families, the TenantsFederation, Trades Council and Young Liberalswas chosen to negotiate in front of the barricades.The strengthening of barricades was continuedovernight. The inspection team reported back inthe small hours. The houses for single peoplewere OK, much better, in fact, than Elgin Avenue.In the morning Graham Walters (acting for thefamilies) and I went to the GLC Western DistrictOffice to demand the family housing list. Theyagreed under pressure that a sample flat (theone allocated to Graham Walters’ family) couldbe inspected, and brought the rest of the list at11.30 am. When Graham Walters returned happyhalf an hour later, we knew we had won.The three lessons of Elgin AvenueWell over 1,000 people lived in Elgin Avenue forvarious lengths of time. They were a crosssection of London’s homeless who, after adesperate search for somewhere to live, hadfound themselves ‘at the end of the line’ in ElginAvenue. They included young ‘roughnecks’,middle-class drop-outs, ‘hippies’, buildingworkers, dishwashers, the sick andunemployable, families and more, though at theend the middle-class people had almost all left.They were not generally political when theyarrived but the environment they were throwninto overcame the isolation and atomisation ofmost living situations and they learned fast.Elgin Avenue’s struggle won for three reasons:• First, we had public campaign policieswhich related to the whole housing crisis. Thatway we got political support from the labourmovement. We showed how our struggle was partof the whole fight for decent housing for all, howthe waiting list is a con trick, how there is asolution to the housing crisis and how thesquatters struggle can be in the forefront of it.• Second, we were democratically organisedso that everyone could join in and know thatwhat they did was part of what everyone wasdoing. Street meetings, social events, electeddelegations, work tokens and EASY allcontributed to this democratic cohesion.• Third, we were ready to defy the law.Webuilt barricades which took our stand to itslogical conclusion. This proved we were seriousand not squatting for fun. It made our wordsabout the housing crisis more meaningful andour message stronger.Together these three factors ensured that inthe final confrontation human justice would be onour side and the GLC and other authoritieswould lose too much if they evicted us. Whateverhappened they had to lose and we had to win. Thevictory of Elgin Avenue, like so many struggles ofthe downtrodden, proves the indomitable spirit ofhumanity. The lessons from that street and otherstruggles before it will be used in a thousandstruggles to come in housing and the workplaceuntil capitalism is finally smashed and our worldwill be ours. •Victory is announced‘If the GLC had not given us what we wanted Iwas ready to resist. They would have had to putme and my child out screaming. The mostimportant thing was the way we stuck togetheragainst their months of harassment. People onthe waiting list should fight too. I’m going totell tenants in my new block they could havegood things if they fought.’ (Sonia White, aged27 with a one-year old son).London ExpressPhilip Wolmuth140

Victory Villaby Nick Anning and Jill SimpsonChallenging the planners in South LondonThe planners’ planThe area around Villa Road is still rather quaintlylabelled ‘Angell Town’ on the maps; a legacy of apast which includes the old manorial estate ofStockwell and the eccentric landowner JohnAngell who died in 1784. To those who live herenow, this is part of Brixton in the London Boroughof Lambeth with the market and the Victoria Linetube station a few minutes walk away.What the maps do not show is the presentstate of the immediate vicinity of Villa Road. Acentury and a half of social change hastransformed an upper class prosperous Victorianmerchant enclave into an area of mainly workingclass housing. But the change wrought in just afew years by Lambeth Council’s planners hasbeen far more radical than that gradualtransformation. The majority of houses whichstood in 1965 have been demolished and VillaRoad too, would have disappeared if the plannershad had their way. The fact that most of it stillstands is the result of a protracted battlebetween the squatter community and theCouncil’s bureaucrats and councillors.The origins of this battle can be found in TheBrixton Plan 1 , an intriguing document producedby Lambeth in 1969, and in the events that ledup to its publication. Indeed, Villa Road’s veryexistence as a squatter community arises fromthe Plan, its initial shortcomings, its lack offlexibility in the face of economic changes andthe refusal of leading Lambeth councillors andplanners to engage in meaningful consultation.Their intransigeance in refusing to admit thatthe plans might be wrong or open to revision wasa further contributing factor.The Plan had its roots in the optimistic climateof Harold Wilson’s first government in the earlysixties. The Greater London Council (GLC) askedthe recently enlarged London boroughs to drawVilla Road area, 1970 (top), and as envisaged in theBrixton Plan (above).Chapter12up community plans in line with the GLC’soverall strategy for taking the metropolisgleaming into the seventies. Lambeth respondedeagerly to this prompting, only too anxious toestablish itself as one of the more enterprisinginner London boroughs.The scale and scope of its redevelopment planwas tremendously ambitious. Lambeth was to betransformed into an even more splendid memorialto the planners’ megalomania than neighbouringCroydon with Brixton as its showcase. Brixtontown centre was to be completely rebuilt,incorporating a huge transport interchangecomplex where a six-lane highway, motorway box,main line railway and underground intersected.Brixton’s social mix was to completely changewith middle-class commuters flocking south ofthe Thames, to bring renewed prosperity and torejuvenate business and commerce. Ravenseft,the property company which gave nearbyElephant and Castle its unloved redevelopment,expressed interest in the plan for Brixton.Tarmac, the road building firm, was givenpermission to build an office block on condition ithelped to fund a new leisure centre. The InnerLondon Education Authority talked of newschools and a new site for South West LondonCollege. The dream seemed possible.The plan would involve demolishing the fadingbastions of Brixton’s Victorian and Edwardiansplendour, epitomised by the very name VillaRoad. These houses were to be replaced withmodern homes for the working class of Lambeth.Angell Town was zoned for residential use, BrixtonRoad was to become a six-lane expresswayand three proposed new housing developments(Brixton Town Centre, Myatts Fields andStockwell Park Estate) would completely removeold Angell Town from the map. About 400 houseswere to be demolished and their occupants‘decanted’. Some low rise, high density modemestates were to be constructed but at the core ofthe plan was the construction of five 52 storeytower blocks. Brixton Towers was the apt namechosen for this development which, at 600 feethigh, was to be the highest housing scheme outsideChicago. A large park was planned, in linewith the GLC’s recommendations, to serve the6,000 residents of the new estates. The schemewas a tribute to the planners’ megalomania.The aim seems to have been to establish poolsof high density council housing with limitedaccess, restricting traffic to major perimeter roadswhere a facade of rehabilitated properties wouldThe North side of Villa Roadgive a false respectability to a disembowelledinterior. Stockwell Park Estate, the first of thethree estates to be completed, has already provedthe disastrous nature of this type of development.Completed in 1971, it has suffered from dampness,lack of repairs and vandalism. For several years,its purpose-built garages remained unused and,until recently, it had a reputation as a ‘sinkestate’ for so-called ‘problem families’.In the heady climate of the sixties, this type of‘macroplanning’ was taken as approved by theballot box and by public enquiries. It was assumedthat the professional planners ‘knew best’ and themajority of Lambeth’s 300,000 population wereunaware of, let alone consulted about, the farreachingnature of these plans.First stirringsIn 1967 Lambeth Council obtained a CompulsoryPurchase Order (CPO) on the Angell Town area,despite a number of objections at the publicenquiry. The familiar pattern of blight set in.Residents, promised rehousing in the imminentfuture, no longer maintained their houses as theywere soon to be demolished. Tenants in multioccupiedhouses found it increasingly difficult topress the Council for repairs and maintenance,and tried to obtain immediate rehousing.The long years of Labour dominance in Lambethwere interrupted with three years of Toryrule but this was of little consequence to themonolithic plan. It drew support from Conservativesand Labour alike, although a radical caucusUnion Place Collective142143

in the Labour Party known as the ‘NorwoodGroup’ began to voice misgivings during Labour’sspell in opposition. By the time Labour regainedcontrol in 1971, Angell Town was a depressed anddemoralised area, as voting figures for the ward inlocal elections showed. Though staunchly Labour,turn-out in Angell Ward has been the lowest ofall Lambeth’s 20 wards since 1971, averagingonly about 25 per cent of the electorate.The newly returned Labour administration of1971 contained a sizeable left-wing influencethrough the Norwood Group and had high hopesof cutting back the massive 14,000 waiting listfor council homes. However by now they wereprisoners of processes originating with the Plan.Population counts in clearance areas were provinginaccurate, mainly because live-in landlords, multioccupiersand extended families were reluctant,through fear of public health regulations, to givefull details of the number of people in their houses.As ‘decanting’ took place from development areas,more and more people began to find themselvesineligible for rehousing, or were given offers ofaccommodation unsuitable for their needs. Mosthouses were boarded up or gutted, adding toblight. Homelessness grew rapidly.Despite the Labour Group’s optimism, thebuilding programme slowed down. Lambeth’starget of 1,000 new homes per year from 1971-8was never met. Many people, particularly LabourParty members, began to realise that sweepingclearance programmes destroyed large numbersof houses in good condition as well as unfit ones.With a tighter economic climate and aConservative Government opposed tomunicipalisation in office, some of the steam hadalready gone out of Lambeth’s redevelopmentplans by 1971, only two years after thepublication of The Brixton Plan.The neighbourhood councilThe Norwood Group of councillors both paralleledand reflected the upsurge of radical, libertarianand revolutionary politics in Brixton duringthe early seventies. Dissatisfaction with Lambeth’splanning processes and its inability to cope withhousing and homelessness gave focus to a numberof dissenting community-based groups. Activistsin these groups were instrumental in establishinga strong squatting movement for single people –the main section of Lambeth’s population whosehousing needs went unrecognised.The Labour Council began to establish NeighbourhoodCouncils at ward level on its return topower in 1971. Their creation raised the prospectof a genuinely more participatory form of democracy.For example, Angell Ward NeighbourhoodCouncil quickly became the focus of well-organisedagitation on behalf of local tenants. It aimed to bea representative body based on tenants associationsand street groups. A delegated committeewas established to campaign around local issuesand to report directly to the Council via Lambeth’sNeighbourhood Councils Sub-Committee, to someextent outflanking the position of local councillor(one of whom was the Labour Group leader).The St John’s Street Group was one of severalstreet groups set up in 1972 under the wing ofthe Neighbourhood Council. Its membershipincluded residents of both Villa Road and St John’sCrescent as the two streets were suffering fromblight arising out of the same plans. Most of theimmediate area was scheduled to be pulled downto form part of the new Angell Park. Villa Roadtenants wanted rehousing while those in neighbouringSt John’s Crescent were campaigningabout the poor state of repair of their properties.The Street Group began a series of direct actions(eg a rent strike and the dumping of uncollectedrubbish at the nearby area housing office) to putpressure on the Council. As a result, many VillaRoad tenants were rehoused and their housesboarded up. Most also had their services cut offand drains sealed with concrete to discouragesquatting. More sensibly, a few of the houseswere allocated on licence to Lambeth Self-Help, ashort-life housing group whose office was roundthe corner in Brixton Road.Squatters enter the fraySome of the Neighbourhood Council activistsmoved into No 20 Villa Road, one of the houseshanded over to Lambeth Self-Help, in early 1973.That summer another house in Villa Road wassquatted. No 20 became the centre of St John’sStreet Group activity, providing an importantpoint of contact with the Neighbourhood Council,Lambeth Self-Help and unofficial squatters. In1974, other houses on Villa Road were squatted,mainly by groups of homeless single people. Manyhad previous experience of squatting either inLambeth or in other London boroughs wherecouncils were starting to clamp down onsquatters, reinforcing the pool of experience, skilland political solidarity which was to be thestrength of the Villa Road community. The factthat a certain number of people came fromoutside Lambeth was frequently used in antisquattingpropaganda.Meanwhile, the Labour Council was moving tothe right and a strong anti-squatter consensushad begun to emerge, particularly after the 1974council elections. The new Chairperson of theHousing Committee and his Deputy were in theforefront of this opposition to squatters. Theirproposals for ending the ‘squatting problem’, farfrom dealing with the root causes of homelessness,merely attempted to erase symptoms and metwith little success. In fact, the autumn of 1974saw the formation of All Lambeth Squatters, amilitant body representing most of the borough’ssquatters. It mobilised 600 people to a majorpublic meeting at the Town Hall in December1974 to protest at the Council’s proposals to end‘unofficial’ squatting in its property. 2The rightward-leaning Council took all theteeth out of the Neighbourhood Councils and theone in Angell Ward, torn by internal disputes,ceased to function by the end of 1973. That wasnot to say that the issue of redevelopment forAngell Town was not still of major interest to thelocal residents. The Brixton Towers project hadbeen dropped, throwing into question the wholeplan. Furthermore, the programme of rehousingand demolition was proceeding slower thanexpected forcing the Council to consider itsshort-term plans for the area. It came up withthe idea of a ‘temporary open space’ which was toinvolve the demolition of Villa Road and StJohn’s Crescent.According to a Council brochure published inJune 1974, this open space was to be theforerunner of a larger Angell Park with play andrecreation facilities. Walkways linking the parkto smaller areas of open space (‘green fingers’)alongside Brixton Road were to be built and afootbridge over that busy road was to link it withthe densely populated Stockwell Park Estate.The justification for the plan was that the highdensity of housing proposed for the nearby MyattsFields South and Brixton Town Centre North estatesrequired open space of the local park varietywithin a quarter of a mile radius. What was notpublicly admitted was that the construction ofthese estates would involve a much smallerincrease in the area’s population than had beenoriginally envisaged. 3 Instead of 3,000, the figurewas now admitted to be nearer 800, hardlyenough to justify the creation of a park thatwould involve the demolition of much goodhousing. In any case, money for the open space,let alone the park, was not to be available untilautumn 1976, and in June 1974 housing officialsdeclared that the Council would not require VillaRoad houses until summer 1976.Arguably, this amounted to a legal licence tooccupy the houses. Probably the Council wouldhave had little further trouble from the VillaRoad squatters had it not been for two factors:the continuous programme of wrecking andvandalising houses in the vicinity and theCouncil leadership’s adherence to a hardlinepolicy on squatting and homelessness. Thecombination of these two factors increasedmilitant opposition to the Council’s politiciansand bureaucrats which culminated in a full-scaleconfrontation in the summer of 1976.A week of action in September 1974 led to morehouses being squatted and saw the first meetingsof the Villa Road Street Group (not to be confusedwith the by-then defunct St John’s Street Group).The members of the Group had come togetherfairly randomly and their demands werenaturally different. For instance, there wereLambeth Self-Help members for whom rehousingwas top priority; single people who demandedthe principle of rehousing but wished to developcreative alternatives; and students and foreignerswho were in desperate need of accommodationbut whose transient presence or precarious legalstatus kept them outside the housing strugglewhich was taking place around them.By the end of 1974, 15 houses in Villa Roadand one in Brixton Road (No 315) had beensquatted by Street Group members who nownumbered about a hundred. Like in othersquatted streets common interests drew peopletogether and gave the street its own identity(see, for example, Chapter 17 on St Agnes Placeand Chapter 11 on Elgin Avenue). The StreetGroup became a focus for the organisation ofsocial as well as political activities. For instance,in the summer of 1975, a street carnival attractedover 1,000 people. A cafe, food co-operative, bandand news-sheet (Villain) were further activitiesof the now-thriving street.But it was a community living under apermanent threat and a stark reminder of thatwas the eviction of No 315 Brixton Road in April1975. The house along with two others whichwere too badly vandalised to have been squatted,were pulled down as part of the Council’spreparation for the footbridge linking theproposed park with the Stockwell Park Estate.The dust had hardly settled after the demolitionwhen the Council announced the cancellation ofthe footbridge plan. 4 The site was left unused forfive years and then grassed over.Events like this tended to harden theopposition to the Council in the Street Group.Another five houses had been squatted during1975, including those with serious faults whichneeded a lot of sustained work like re-roofing,plumbing, rewiring and unblocking drains.The population of the street was nowapproaching 200. Three houses in St John’sCrescent which had been emptied in preparationfor demolition were taken over with the help ofthe departing tenants. Several other houses inthe Crescent and Brixton Road were wreckedand demolished by the Council, still intent onimplementing its temporary open space plan.Squatters were increasingly becoming a thornin the Council’s side. Following the failure of theCouncil’s 1974 initiative to bring squatting undercontrol, the Council tried again. It published apolicy proposing a ‘final solution’ to the twin‘problems’ of homelessness and squatting. Itcombined measures aimed at discouraginghomeless people from applying to the Council forhousing – like tighter definitions of who would beaccepted and higher hostel fees – with a rehashof the same old anti-squatting ploys – like moregutting. The policy was eventually passed in April1976 after considerable opposition both withinthe Labour Party from the Norwood Group andfrom homeless people and squatters.In a sense, Villa Road, and later St Agnes Place,were the testing grounds for this new policy.Although the Council had agreed to meet VillaRoad Street Group representatives in February,its position was unyielding. Twenty-one of the 32houses in Villa Road were to be demolished withinfour months and the street would be closed off foropen space. Moreover, the Council told theStreet Group that when the houses were evicted,families would be referred to the Council’s homelessfamilies unit but single people would just haveto ‘make their own arrangements’. The future ofthe remaining 11 houses was less certain as theywere earmarked for a junior school that, even in1976, was unlikely ever to be built.The Trades Council InquiryIt was clear that the Street Group could not fightthe Council without outside support. There wasalready considerable local dissatisfaction withthe Council for its failure to change the plans forthe area and the Street Group, in an attempt toharness available support, organised a publicmeeting in April 1976 to discuss courses ofaction. At the meeting, which was well-attended,it was decided to initiate a Trades CouncilInquiry into local housing and recreationalneeds. This idea was supported by a wide rangeof people and groups including the vicar of StJohn’s Church which overlooks Villa Road andthe ward Labour Party. A committee includingtwo Street Group representatives was set up tocollect evidence and prepare a report.The Trades Council Inquiry report was to bepresented to a public meeting of 200 people atSt. John’s School two months later. Lambeth’sChief Planning Officer, its Deputy Director ofHousing and an alderman came to hear theircritics and see the meeting vote overwhelminglyin favour of the report’s recommendations. Thesewere:• No more demolitions, wreckings or evictions.• Smaller, more easily supervised play-spacesshould be created from existing empty sites,rather than clinging stubbornly to a plan for onelarge park.• Money saved by stopping evictions,wreckings and demolition should be spent onrepairs on nearby estates or rehabilitation ofolder property.• The Council should recognise the strongcommunity in the area and take that as thestarting point for allowing active participation bylocal people in the planning process.The Council’s representatives made noconcession to these views except to suggestrather insultingly that the report might beadmissible for discussion as a ‘local petition’.They firmly rejected the meeting’srecommendation that the Trades Council Reportshould be considered at the next Councilmeeting.144145

The wreckers. Top and bottom: Sound houses inBrixton Road are demolished for a park, 1978.Centre: A Lambeth Council van acquires an aptgraffitto (and two flat tyres) while its occupantsdestroy a perfectly habitabe house round the corner,Radnor Terrace, 1977.Union Place CollectiveChris Davies/ ReportWhilst the Inquiry had been collecting its evidence,there had been a further series of confrontationsbetween squatters and wreckers. TheTrades Council had passed a resolution blackingthe wrecking of good houses and the Council wasforced to find non-union labour to do its dirty work.The squatters managed to take over one house inBrixton Road before it was wrecked (No 321) butanother (No 325) was gutted by workmen underpolice protection. The culmination of these battlesbetween squatters and wreckers was to be at St.Agnes Place in January 1977, an action whichattracted widespread national publicity (p 85).Both these wreckings and the Inquiry attractedlocal press coverage and support for the squatterswidened. Several Norwood councillors, promptedby a letter from the Street Group, began to giveactive support as well as inside information onthe Council’s position. Links with the locallabour movement were helped by squatters’support for a construction workers picket duringa strike at the Tarmac site in the town centreand for an unemployed building workers march.To the barricadesWith careful timing, the Council made its initialresponse to the Inquiry’s report the day after itwas released when all the houses occupied by theStreet Group (except those on the school site)received county court summonses for possession.The court cases were scheduled for 30 June, acouple of weeks away, and the Street Group’sresponse was immediate: a defence committee wasorganised to barricade all threatened houses, coordinatea legal defence, publicise the campaign,set up an early warning system and much more.At the court hearing, the judge criticised theCouncil for its sloppy preparation and only eightout of fifteen possession orders were granted.Although this was a partial victory, the barricadesobviously had to remain. The Street Group embarkedon a series of militant actions with supportfrom other Lambeth squatters aimed at forcing theCouncil to reconsider the Trades Council Inquiry’sfindings which it had rejected at a heavilypicketedmeeting and at getting the Council tooffer rehousing to Villa Road squatters. First, theLambeth Housing Advice Centre was occupied foran afternoon in July and, a month later, followingthe breakdown of negotiations, the PlanningAdvice Centre received the same treatment. ThisStopping the wreckers. Top: Squatters bravely by-passpolice guarding the doors while Council workmen startgutting before the departing tenants have finishedpacking – the house is saved for a few more years, 1976.Centre: the squatters’ van, 1976. Bottom: Town hallpicket, 1977.Union Place CollectiveUnion Place Collectivedid not prevent the planning and housingcommittees from formally rejecting the TradesCouncil Report but both occupations achievedtheir primary objective in getting Lambeth roundthe negotiating table. The Street Group’s initialposition was for rehousing as a community butas the talks continued, it was decided to agree toconsider individual rehousing. Staying in VillaRoad on a permanent basis was not an optionconsidered seriously by either side at this stage.After the second occupation and a survey ofempty property in the borough by the squatters,the Council representatives said they might beprepared to look for individual properties forrehousing. The Street Group’s minimum demandwas rehousing for 120 people knowing full wellthat any offer of rehousing would breach boththe squatting and homelessness policies.In October, the Council made an offer of 17houses to the Street Group but the houses werein such a bad condition that the sincerity of itsmotives could clearly be questioned. The StreetGroup had no option but to reject them despite thestrain that living behind barricades was causing.The defences could never be made impregnableand the difficulties of living permanently underthe threat of immediate eviction was too much formany people who left, sometimes to unthreatenedhouses up the street. They were generally replacedby even more determined opponents of the Counciland morale in the street was further boosted bythe occupation of the remaining tenanted andlicensed houses in the threatened part of thestreet whose occupants were all rehoused.After the rejection of the offer, no further wordcame from the Council though it seemed clearthat it was reluctant at this stage to send in thebailiffs. A war of attrition set in, marked by twointeresting developments.First, a sympathetic councillor was selected tostand in the by-election of November 1976 causedby the death of an Angell Ward councillor. Theselection was a success for the Street Group’smembers in the ward Labour Party whose voteswere decisive. It was a rebuff for the Council’sleader whose nominee failed to win selection andhelped to chip away the right’s narrow majoritywithin the Labour Group, contributing directly tothe leftward movement that eventually put theNorwood Group with a left-wing leader in powerat the local elections of May 1978.Secondly, in October, the Department of theEnvironment (DOE) held a public inquiry overthe Council’s application to close Villa Road.Several local organisations, including the StreetGroup, presented evidence against closure. Aninquiry which should have been over in a daystretched to ten. Each point was stronglycontested since the Street Group realised that ifthe Council was unable to close Villa Road itsplan for the park would need drasticmodification. The DOE inspector promised tomake his report a matter of urgency.The turning pointAs the Council still did not have possession orderson all the houses, it now restarted court proceedingsagainst all the squatted houses (except thoseon the school site) – this time in the High Court.The Street Group hurriedly drew up a detailedlegal defence, arguing a general licence on thegrounds that official negotiations with the Councilhad never been formally terminated. Villa Road’scase was strengthened by statements from twoLambeth councillors. The hearing opened inJanuary 1977, marked by a picket, street theatreand live music outside the High Court.Judging by its legal representatives’ responseat the preliminary hearing, the Council had notanticipated any legal defence and the case wasadjourned twice. The Council’s reason for goingto the High Court instead of the county courtwas that a High Court order for possessionallows the police to assist directly in carrying outthe eviction. A county court order did not givethe police power to intervene except to guardagainst a possible ‘breach of the peace.’ Events atnearby St. Agnes Place in January had set anugly precedent and showed the Council was nowprepared for full scale battles with squatters.Over 250 police had arrived at dawn in St AgnesPlace to preside over the demolition with a balland chain of empty houses although thedemolition was stopped within hours by a hastilyinitiated court injunction by the squatters.In the event, the St Agnes Place affair put LambethCouncil at a moral disadvantage and had animportant effect on events in Villa Road. LabourGroup leader David Stimpson had staked his hardlinereputation on an outright confrontation butthe failure to demolish all the houses and the resultingbad publicity put his political future in doubt.To make matters worse for Stimpson, the DOEinspector’s report on the public inquiry into theclosure of Villa Road was published around thesame time. It ruled against the Council: VillaRoad had to stay open until revised plans forBrixton Town Centre North were devised ‘inconsultation with all interested parties’.The remnants of The Brixton Plan hadalready started to crumble around the Councilwhen Ravenseft, one of the major backers, hadpulled out the previous summer. With theunfavourable report from the DOE inspector andnews that the construction of the school plannedfor the top end of Villa Road was to be deferredindefinitely, the planners had to go back to thedrawing board. The Brixton Plan was even moreof a pipedream than it had been in 1969.By the time the High Court hearing resumedin March, the Council had been forced into aposition where it had to compromise. The judgeencouraged the Council and the Street Group tosettle out of court as, in the end, the granting ofa possession order was inevitable. After some hardbargaining, the Street Group got a three monthsstay of execution to 3 June 1977 and costs of £50awarded against it, a considerable saving on theestimated £7,000 the case had cost Lambeth.June 3 passed uneventfully as did the firstanniversary of the erection of the barricades.Indeed, they were to stay up almost another yearuntil in March 1978 the squatters felt confidentenough of the Council’s intentions to take themdown. No attempt had ever been made to breachthem.With the DOE inspector’s decision not to closethe road and the absence of revised plans for thearea, the possibility now emerged that the fate ofthe two sides of the street could be different. Thesouth side (12 houses) backed onto a triangle,two-thirds of which was already demolished forthe open space. On the other hand, the north side(20 houses) backed onto a new council estate andits demolition would add little space to the parkarea even assuming that permission to close VillaRoad were obtained. Therefore, the Street Groupdecided to accept demolition of the south sideprovided that everyone was rehoused, and to pushfor the houses on the north side to be retainedand rehabilitated, ideally as a housing co-op forthe existing squatters. Negotiations were resumedon this basis and Lambeth kept talking: clearly,it didn’t want a repeat of the St Agnes Placedisaster.146147

Angela Phillips/ Time OutUnion Place CollectiveA new CouncilThe first tangible gain for the Street Group camein March 1978, when two short-life houses wereoffered to people being rehoused from the southside. But the most important event came twomonths later, when a new left-Labour Councilwas elected with Ted Knight, a ‘self confessedmarxist’ and Matthew Warburton, a first timecouncillor, as leader and housing chairpersonrespectively. It was a significant victory in that itrepresented as radical a shift in policy as avictory by the Tories – in the other direction, ofcourse. Squatters in both Villa Road and StAgnes Place had contributed directly to theleftwards swing and the new leaders had pledgedto adopt more sympathetic policies.Lambeth housing department officials nowpressed for the demolition of houses on the southside, to make way for the new Angell Park, andsuggested that all Villa Road Street Group membersjoin Lambeth Self-Help Housing. It appearedthat a new atmosphere of negotiation was beingcreated but the same housing department officersdid the negotiating and the Plan had not been totallyabandoned. Eventually the Street Group agreed,very reluctantly, to the south side of Villa Roadbeing vacated, with all occupants being rehoused inproperty with at least 18 months life. Demolitionwas to begin on 24 July 1978 and the fourth annualVilla Road carnival was made spectacular by one ofthe vacated houses on the south side being burntdown as a defiant gesture of protest. All the housesaccepted for rehousing were in the borough,though some were in Norwood, several miles away.The Street Group, left to its own devices,requested details of the Council’s plans for therehabilitation of Villa Road north side. It’s mainaim was to keep the north side houses. Inspired bythe growth of housing co-ops in other areas (p 90-l),the Street Group decided to propose a co-op forVilla Road. In January 1979 an ‘outline proposal’was sent to the housing directorate suggestingfour possible types of co-op but with an expressedpreference for a management co-op. In this type ofco-op, the Council continues to own the propertywhilst handing over responsibilities for rentcollection, maintenance and management to theco-op. Rehabilitation is financed either by local orTop: Squatters about to be ejected from a Councilmeeting, 1974.Bottom: DOE inspector visits Villa Road, 1976.central government. It was felt that other typesof co-op involving the sale of council housingstock were politically unacceptable.The co-op proposals were presented to the housingcommittee in April 1979 and formal approvalwas given for the chairman to continue negotiationswith the Street Group for setting up a co-op. Theclimate had certainly changed and althoughsquatting was still regarded as a ‘problem’, theCouncil now negotiated rather than evicted, atleast with large groups. Lambeth officers were reluctantto embark on this scheme which was entirelynew to the borough and instead suggested a jointmanagement/ownership co-op. Houses in Villa Roadwould form the management wing, and the ownershipbranch would be in a nearby Housing ActionArea. This was to ensure that four or five houses inVilla Road could be used to accommodate large familiesfrom Lambeth’s waiting list. It seemed ironicthat Lambeth was now short of large houses whenthe previous administration had operated a policyof systematic demolition of such houses. Theplanning machine had done a complete U-turn.The Street Group now had to change its tactics.Instead of militant campaigns with barricadesand regular occupations of council offices, it hadto get down to the nitty gritty of filling in formsto register as a friendly society and as a co-op,finding a development agent (Solon HousingAssociation was eventually selected) and workingout detailed costings for the rehabilitation. It wasno longer a matter of just saving the houses, it wasa question of getting the long-term best deal forStreet Group members and Lambeth’s homeless.After Solon had submitted detailed costings inJanuary 1980 (it worked out at about £7,000 perbed space), the housing committee agreed, thefollowing month, to support Villa Road’s applicationto the Housing Corporation (a quango throughwhich government money is channelled to housingassociations and co-ops) for funding to rehabilitatethe houses. Lambeth would grant Villa Road a 40year lease. The recommendations were notpassed without dissent. Some of the old antisquattingbrigade were still on the committee,intent on eviction without rehousing for VillaRoad squatters. But Street Group members nowno longer had to live day to day under threat ofeviction – they could dream of still living in VillaRoad and collecting their pensions.Not everything was different. Two houses onthe corner of Villa Road, Nos 64 and 66 WiltshireLambeth town hall occupied, 1977.Road were demolished in April 1980. They hadbeen squatted in October 1976 following an unsuccessfulwrecking attempt by the Council. They hadprovided housing for some 20 people for three andahalf years and were now being pulled down tomake way for the Angell Park play centre scheduledto start in June 1980. Yet three months later, not abrick had been laid. At least now Lambeth offeredall the occupants short-life or permanent rehousing.The first scheme was rejected by the HousingCorporation but a different plan was submitted inJuly 1980 involving the conversion of the housesto accommodate 12 or 13 people each, rather morethan the number already living there. Conversioncosts were appreciably lower (under £4,500 perbed space) and the scheme had, in the words ofthe manager of the housing advice centre, ‘toppriority’ from the Council with support from bothcouncil officers and councillors.Victory Villa?The change in relationship between Villa Road, asquatted street in Lambeth, and the local councilbetween 1974 and 1980 from a harsh antisquattingpolicy to negotiations for a housing coopcould not have been more dramatic. But whatelse has been achieved by six years of squattingin Villa Road? The squatters arrived late inAngell Town and it would be nice to imagine thathad they arrived earlier, they would have posedan even greater challenge to the lunacies of theplanners. But, in the event the achievements ofthe squatters have been significant, both forthemselves and for the immediate community:• Homes have been provided for the equivalentof 1,000 people for a year in houses which wouldotherwise have been gutted or demolished.Union Place Collective• About 25 people have obtained two yearlicences and 15 have obtained counciltenancies from Lambeth.• About 160 people are in the process of obtainingpermanent housing as a co-op, remainingtogether as a community. Working with Solon’sarchitects, they will be able to have a considerablemeasure of control over the rehabilitationof the houses, retaining many of the collectivearrangements and physical adaptations whichhave developed over the years (p 175).• Twenty elegant 19th century houses havebeen saved from demolition and a usefulstreet prevented from being closed.• Control of Lambeth Council has significantlyshifted partly thanks to the Villa Road squatters.• And, less tangibly, although few peoplestayed in Villa Road for all the six years ofstruggle, a cohesive street community wascreated which many people enjoyed living in.Squatters in Villa Road, like those in otherstreets in Lambeth which won concessions fromthe Council (St Agnes Place, Heath Road, RectoryGardens, and St Alphonsus Road) challenged thecomplacency and smugness of the bureaucratsand won. That was the real victory in Villa Road.What happened in Villa Road could havehappened just as easily in other blighted streetsin Lambeth or elsewhere. The squatters organisation,their use of direct action and their insistencethat planning and housing are two sides of thesame coin challenged the complacency and smugnessof the bureaucrats. Villa Road’s real victorywas to prove that plans are not inviolable, andthat people can affect and be directly involved inplanning processes that determine their livingconditions. Considering what Villa Road was upagainst, that is no small achievement. •148149

Is there life after squatting?Winning a permanent home by forming a co-op in central London – Seymour Buildingsby Tristan WoodSebotee1975 January Seymour buildings squatted.FebruaryMarchNovemberChapter13Residents Group forms and beginsnegotiations with WestminsterCouncil for a short-term licence.Association enters negotiations onsquatters’ behalf.Electricity supply connected.1976 March Westminster and Christian ActionHousing Association sign short-termlicence agreement. Squatters formCo-operative Development Group.AprilJuneJulyWestminster announces its plans to redevelopSeymour Buildings for officesand housing.Seymour Housing Co-operative isregistered with the Registrar ofFriendly Societies. Co-operativeDevelopment Group produces itsresponse – a proposal to rehabilitatesome of the buildings for singlepersons’ accommodation within a cooperativemanagement structure – andbegins negotiations with Westminster,the Housing Corporation and theDepartment of the Environment.Co-operative starts lobbyingWestminster councillors andstrengthens its original proposal.1977 March Department of the Environmentrejects Westminster’s plans. SeymourHousing Co-operative is registeredwith the Housing Corporation.AprilMayJuneHousing Corporation includes Cooperativein its ‘77/ ’78 programme.35-year leasehold purchase is agreed.Westminster scraps its own redevelopmentplans.Westminster agrees to offer 35-yearleasehold on East and West blocks ofSeymour Buildings to SeymourHousing Co-operative.1978 September Leasehold agreement is signed.Squatters now effecttively ownSeymour Buildings.The Seymour Buildings squat is different frommany of the squats described in the book. Herethe squatters obtained for themselvespermanent, high-standard accommodation, in theproperty they squatted. Their fight both to retainthe buildings and to keep housing managementcontrol is an example of the single-mindedness,flexibility and organisational strength nownecessary in the face of the Criminal Law Act.Somewhere to liveSeymour Buildings are five blocks of Victoriantenement flats in Seymour Place, off the EdgwareRoad, in central London. The original owners, theArtisans and General Workers Property Company,hit financial troubles in the sixties and the sitewas taken over by Westminster City Council. TheCouncil rehoused the occupants from the substandarddwellings and for eight years the blocksstood empty. During this time, the Council’s planfor the blocks vacillated between five options:renovation; demolition and rebuilding; selling;handing them over to a housing association; andleasing the site to a developer.Westminster’s indecision was challenged inJanuary 1975, when 40 of us squatted the site. Ascouting trip had failed to reveal the poor stateof the buildings. The Central Block wasuninhabitable, riddled with both wet and dry rotas a result of vandalism. None of the blocks hadelectricity, and the water supply to the WestBlock (where most of us had based ourselves)seemed unrepairable. Bearing in mind the shortlife of most squats, it seemed hardly worthembarking on the huge repair job and almost allthe occupants decided to leave in the cold light ofthe first morning.The remnants of the initial party concentratedon survival. Paranoia ruled. Everyone moved tothe East Block where work on restoring servicespromised to be easier. Plumbing and sewagesystems were rapidly renovated in the belief thatinadequate public health provision would giveWestminster a suitable excuse for quick eviction.It was felt that the more squatters there were, thestronger would be the occupation’s bargainingposition. So adverts were placed on college noticeboards,friends were contacted and Time Out ‘FlatsWanted’ advertisers were telephoned. Withinthree weeks, all 48 habitable flats were taken.With at least 75 per cent of the occupants beingnewcomers to squatting, initial organisation waslargely undertaken by two or three people withprevious squatting experience. Unbeknown tothe majority of residents, these people operatedtheir own vetting procedure because they felt theoccupation needed energetic people with longtermcommitment. Callers who appearedunlikely to have this commitment were givenpessimistic views on the squat’s future and werenever seen again.Demanding a licenceAt the end of the first fortnight, a meeting ofcurrent and future occupants established theSeymour Buildings Residents Group and electeda Central Committee. The Committee’s brief wasto obtain a licence for short-term occupation fromWestminster City Council. However, as it wasknown that Westminster was uncertain about itsplans for the site, there was already serious talkof trying to obtain the building permanently. Ashort-term licence was seen as the first steptowards this. The meeting also agreed that theResidents Group should have a writtenconstitution (partly to impress Westminster andpartly to provide community guidelines) and thateach occupant should pay a ‘membership levy’ of£1 a week to the Group for plumbing andelectrical work.The decision to form a residents’ group ratherthan a squatters’ group was indicative of ourcautious approach. The last major squat in theBorough, at Canal Flats, had ended in beingbulldozed by Westminster at short notice (p l34).Cornwall Terrace was, at the time, keeping themedia happy with a continuous scream of‘squatter scandal’ stories (p 60), so SeymourBuildings was able to develop away from thespotlight of publicity. There was already anencouraging amount of support from neighboursand local tradespeople, glad to see SeymourBuildings in use again and providing increasedlocal custom. A ‘play it by ear’ negotiations policytowards the Council was evolved, with an initialaim of impressing officers with our organisationand ‘reasonable’ approach.By the time formal negotiations for a licencebegan, approximately 60 people were in occupation.This included two families with childrenwhich worried the Council as it had no wish totake on any rehousing liability. Because the buildingswith their stone stairways and small twoand three room flats were obviously unsuited tofamily use, the Residents Group was prepared toassure the Council that no more families wouldbeadmitted to the squat. But we also impliedthat should the Council decide to evict ratherthan negotiate, more families could easily bemoved in. The negotiating team was similarlyable to exploit Council fantasies about squattersby implying that Seymour Buildings could bepassed on to less reasonable people should alicence deal fall through. The Council expresseda willingness to negotiate for a licence, butstressed it would not negotiate with an ad hocbody like the Residents Group.Within a fortnight, Christian Action HousingAssociation was brought in to negotiate on theGroup’s behalf. The Association had lain dormantfor several years but was being revived with theaim of providing housing for single homelesspeople not in need of social work support. TheAssociation was impressed with our organisationat Seymour Buildings and agreed to take thescheme on as a pilot project.Negotiations between the Association andWestminster began in March 1975, and dragged onfor a year. There were two major problems duringthis period, one psychological and the otherpractical: first to keep up residents’ morale amidsta vacuum of insecurity and occasional pessimisticrumours, and second, to try to connect an electricitysupply in the flats. It was discovered thatthe existing system was inadequate and unsafe,and that it would cost about £3,000 to install andconnect a replacement. Membership levies wereincreased to an average of £3 per flat, jumblesales were held, and a loan was obtained on theResidents Group’s bank account. After ninemonths without electricity, the first flats wereconnected: the junction box had been designed bya resident architecture student and a system ofcables installed by teams of residents.At the end of the squat’s first year, practicallyall the flats had electricity and had been madeinto comfortable homes. In March 1976, Westminsterfinally granted a licence for an unspecifiedperiod to Christian Action Housing Association.The internal structure at Seymour Buildings hadbecome quite settled. The Central Committee ranthe community with three block treasurerscollecting and banking levies. Once the licence wassigned, a Management Committee (comprising a150151

Planning a futureSeymour NewsltterMike Goldwaterlocal chairperson, three housing association andthree Residents Group members) was set up toensure the licence terms were adhered to, and tosort out any legal problems which might arise.The Residents Group still handled the levies,channelling £450 a year to Christian ActionHousing Association, which then passed on £350to Westminster to cover the licence fee andinsurance. The rest (roughly £7,000) was used bythe Residents Group for improvements, andmaintenance.Digging inBy the end of 1975, some residents’ thoughts hadbecome focused on securing Seymour Buildingspermanently while retaining community selfmanagement.A newspaper article on thebeginnings of a housing co-operative formed bysquatters at Summer House in East London(p 90) caught our imagination and a few of usbegan to find out about housing co-ops.The basic co-operative structure was establishedin Britain in 1844 by the Rochdale EquitablePioneers Society. Many other countries – notablyScandinavia, Eastern Europe, Canada and theUSA – have since applied the Rochdale cooperativeprinciples to housing but in this countrysimilar moves were for a long time hampered byunfavourable legislation. In 1974, however, RegFreeson the Minister for Housing and Constructionset up a government working party to lookinto ways of encouraging and assisting cooperativehousing initiatives, and several of itsrecommendations were incorporated into theHousing Rents and Subsidies Act 1975. This Actenables groups to form themselves into co-ops (ata cost of £1 per member, plus the £80 or so it tookto become a registered friendly society) and then,like housing associations, they can seek publicfunding for housing schemes from local authoritiesor from the Housing Corporation. Once ascheme is built, registered rents are passed on tothe funding authority after deduction of allowancesto the co-op for management and maintenancework. The Department of the Environment(DOE) subsidises the balance of the mortgagerepayments.The advantage of co-ops is that they run themselvesdemocratically (one member – one vote)and control both development and managementof their property. Active participation by memberscan bring about savings on the managementand maintenance allowances, and the co-operativecan then decide either to increase facilities or toallow some ‘rent-free’ weeks. If, on the other hand,co-ops run into financial difficulties not of theirown making, they can be assisted with furtherfunding from local authorities or with RevenueDeficit Grants from the Housing Corporation.A week after the signing of the licence, amember of the Sumner House Co-op addressed ameeting of the Residents Group, which decidedto approve the formation of a co-op. The meetingset up a Development Group with the aim ofestablishing a long-term housing co-operative atSeymour Buildings, or, failing this, to seek outalternative property in which the wholecommunity could be re-housed within a cooperativestructure.Reeling and dealingAt about the same time (April 1976),Westminster announced plans for demolition andredevelopment of the site to provide offices andaccommodation for families and the elderly. Thescheme was to cost £13/4m and was planned tostart in November 1976. The Development Groupreacted by rushing out a statement of intent tothe Council and promising to deliver a follow-upproposal for the site at the end of two months.Our scheme – developed by resident architecturalstudents – took into account three points:the chronic need for suitable accommodation incentral London for young single people; the factthat the existing flats at Seymour Buildings wereparticularly suited for conversion into such accommodation;and the fact that a community of 65young single people was already living there.Both Development Group and Council architectsagreed that the Central Block should bedemolished. We therefore proposed rehabilitationof the East and West Blocks to provide accommodationfor 90 single people (the two families couldhave been incorporated into the scheme, but bothhad left by then). This would cost £1/2m. Thecommunity would function as a housing co-opand the local authority would have the right tonominate single people from its waiting list to filla percentage of vacancies. Solon (North London)Housing Association was brought in to check thetechnical details of the proposal and the Departmentof the Environment was informed of ourplans.There were two main authorities which had tobe won over for the scheme to succeed – WestminsterCity Council which owned the property, andthe Housing Corporation which had the funds tofinance the project. We immediately scored twosuccesses. In June 1976, Seymour Housing CooperativeLimited was registered with theRegistrar of Friendly Societies. We were now alegal entity and could negotiate direct with theparties concerned. At the same time, our architecturalproposal sufficiently impressed WestminsterCouncil for its Residential Property Committee todecide to hold back on its redevelopment scheme.We were thus granted some breathing space overthe summer recess to polish up our proposal.The Co-op’s initial progress had to be backedup by wider negotiations. Over the summer,contact was made with a number of Westminstercouncillors and introductory visits to SeymourBuildings arranged. We concentrated on winningover the immense Conservative majority. Ourconfidence helped us to establish credibility andthe councillors appeared to be genuinelyinterested in finding out about co-ops. Afterbeing persuaded that the need for single personhousing outweighed accusations of squattersjumping the waiting list, the Labour Group alsoagreed to support us in a low-profile way. Councilofficials were made to realise that our plans werefor a permanent future at Seymour Buildingsand that we were not interested in any shorttermarrangements.We had to go through a similar process withthe Housing Corporation. It took severalfrustrating months – and much prompting fromboth ourselves and the new government-backedCo-operative Housing Agency – before theCorporation finally agreed to state its support inprinciple for the scheme.The Development Group was also conscious ofthe need for an education programme on co-opswithin Seymour Buildings: Harold Campbell,Chairperson of the government working party onthe subject, was invited to speak at a meeting ofresidents, and handouts, papers and reading-listswere produced, giving information both on theplans at Seymour and on housing co-ops generally.Soon, over half of the residents had becomemembers of the Co-op. A sub-committee set up toexamine the existing management structure recommendeda transitional structure which couldbe adapted easily once the Co-op acquired controlof the property.Meanwhile, the Residents Group continued tooversee the day-to-day running while the DevelopmentGroup was concerned with the future of thecommunity and also dealt with flat allocation (toget a flat in Seymour Buildings you now had to bea Co-op member). A proportion of the levies paidby Co-op members to the Residents Groupfinanced the Development Group’s activities. On amore eneral level, decision-making was devolvedaway from a Central Committee down to BlockCommittees, giving everyone more opportunity tobe involved. The Development Group initiated anumber of sub-groups to deal with negotiations,tenancy selection, alternative accommodation (incase plans for Seymour Buildings fell through)and publicity. These sub-groups met informallyand were open to all members.The September meeting of Westminster’sResidential Property Committee decided to goahead in seeking Department of the Environmentapproval for its redevelopment of the sitebut it also agreed to conduct a feasibility studyon what could be done with the rest of the site ifthe Co-op’s proposal was taken up. The Councilwas leaving its options open.The Council considered the scheme mainly onits financial implications. Our proposal wouldbring £1/2m of Housing Corporation funds into theborough allowing the Council to divert its fundsto other housing priorities. In all our leaflets anddiscussions with councillors, we emphasised thefinancial benefits to Westminster. We also tried toshow that the Council’s redevelopment planwould provide expensive hard-to-let shop andoffice units, whilst in our proposals there were nooffices and existing shop units could be retainedby Westminster for rehabilitation and letting ata reasonable price.Council plans demolishedDuring the early months of 1977, morale was lowas Westminster kept postponing any decision. ItsArchitects Department was delaying its report onSeymour Buildings as it was desperately trying tocome up with an alternative as attractive as ourproposal. The rivalry between the Architects Departmentand the Co-op was heightened by thefact that the Co-op’s proposal had been drawn upwith the help of Council plans provided by anTristan WoodMike GoldwaterForming a co-op152153

Mike GoldwaterMike GoldwaterTristan WoodMike GoldwaterMike Goldwateremployee in the Department, who, at the time,was confident that amateurs like us stood nochance of producing a scheme superior to his.When we did, two years of his work were wasted.During this lull, a lot of effort was put intopractical work to improve living conditions.Plumber and electrician teams were set up; thefood co-operative which had operated the previousyear was revived; and work was begun on a roofgarden and on designing a temporary hot watersystem (we had been two years without hot water).There was also activity on the wider cooperativefront. Solon (North London) HousingAssociation decided to become a secondary cooperativeservice agency, and Seymour became oneof the founder-members of Solon Co-operativeHousing Services Limited. The management ofthis new organisation consisted of primaryhousing co-ops which determined Solon’s policies,priorities and workload. Any profits made by theorganisation could be channelled back into cooperativehousing rather than into the pockets ofa non-accountable architects firm.News that the DOE had refused to sanction theCouncil’s plans because of its high site densityheralded victory in our fight for Seymour Buildings.In March, 1977, Seymour Housing Cooperativewas registered with the HousingCorporation and became eligible for governmentfunding. The following month, notice wasreceived that the Co-op had been included in theCorporation’s allocation programme for 1977/78.Meanwhile the District and City Valuers agreed ona leasehold purchase price of £140,000; well withinthe relevant acquisition cost limits. Furthernegotiations with Westminster settled on theCouncil exercising a 50 per cent nominationsagreement to the Co-op once rehabilitation wascompleted. It was also suggested that the Co-opwould have a say in landscaping the courtyardarea following demolition of the Central Block.Such discussions indicated that it was only amatter of time before the Co-op gained legalcontrol of Seymour Buildings. And consequently, inMay, the Residential Property Committee at lastgrew impatient with the Council architects andrecommended in favour of the Co-op’s proposal.In June, the full Council decided to offer the Coopa 35 year lease on Seymour Buildings.Life inside Seymour Buildings. Centre bottom: Thesquatters’ electrics.Is there life after squatting?Although the restrained, drawn-out negotiationsand the consequent low-profile policy meant asacrifice of the drama and excitement traditionallyassociated with squatting, Seymour’s occupantshave continued to see themselves as squatters. Ourstrength has undoubtedly been our organisationand some people found this too much and left formore ‘laid-back’ squats. But the aim at SeymourBuildings has always been to achieve more thanbeing a temporary nuisance to the housing departmentand this meant working hard on decisionmakingstructures, on the buildings themselvesand on contacts with relevant authorities.Looking back, the main problem appears tohave been the need for speed. Whilst squatters, wewere insecure; we had to move quickly to retain achance of staying at Seymour Buildings. After ashort-lived education programme, know-how andinformation became restricted to a small core ofpeople within the Development Group. Negotiationstook precedence and the mass of residentswere left behind. This, in turn, created dependenceon a handful of people. Towards the end of 1977,those most closely involved either cut back ontheir activities or withdrew from the DevelopmentGroup completely. Consequently, a number oflargely inexperienced and uninformed people wereleft to steer the Co-op through the final stages ofthe leasehold agreement. Some had difficulty ingrasping the fact that the Co-op had achieved apowerful position for itself in negotiating withother bodies and a rift developed. Some residentsaccepted Seymour Buildings as a success simply interms of a squat having obtained long-life accommodationfor itself. Others regarded that attitude aspreventing the community using its power andtalents to fully explore co-operative living and tobecome a strong voice on local issues, particularlyhousing. Nevertheless, the leasehold agreementbetween the Co-operative and Westminster wascompleted and signed in September 1978.Involvement in the London squatting ‘movement’has been sporadic. Seymour Buildings squattersplayed a part in the ‘anti-press lies’ campaignin the summer of 1975, but with the formation ofa representative-based Squatters Action Councillater that year (p 71), our involvement waned aswe could not see how one person could representthe diverse views of those living at SeymourBuildings. It was also difficult for us to stomachthe prevalent prejudice against licensed squattersand the tendency towards confrontation tacticswhilst we were finding a licence and friendlynegotiations essential steps towards a long-termsolution.Our evolution into a housing co-operativeseemed a natural process. At a workshop onhousing co-operatives in June 1976, wepresented a paper provocatively entitled: ‘Werefuse to accept the squatters’ traditional role ofcontinually shifting from one set of short-lifeslum property to another . . .’ Unfortunately, fewother squatters attended the workshop.Ten months later, however, a workshop oncooperatives (and short-life schemes) was one ofthe most popular events of the London Squatters’Conference, undoubtedly due to the threat posedby the Criminal Law Bill. The GLC ‘SquattersAmnesty’ the following autumn caused a largewave of interest in co-ops from squattersthroughout London (p 90).The Tory GLC’s sponsorship of co-ops is awelcome input to the emerging housing co-opmovement but has increased suspicion of co-opsfrom certain leftist factions including somesquatting groups. It is easy, they argue, to seeauthorities setting up co-ops simply to farm offtheir housing responsibilities. The result, theyforecast, will be the creation of a housing elitedivorced from the tenants movement as a whole.It does not have to be that way. Squatting hasalready shown that carrying out one’s ownmanagement and maintenance tasks can be funand is often less wasteful both in terms offinance and materials. The experience ofSeymour Buildings shows that co-ops can offer asuitable long-term solution for many squats. Asrecognised co-operative groups, squatters canadd their strength to tenants’ demands forreasonable rents, greater housing investment,increased rights and decent housing for all.At the same time, adopting a co-operativeapproach calls for a more organised approach tosquatting. Occupations of buildings must be seenas important gains in the housing struggle, to bekept and developed rather than squandered astemporary crash pads.•154 155

The lawThe effect of the law on squatters14 The erosion of squattersrightsHow judges and politicians have gradually156 157

The erosion of squatters rightsHow judges and politicians have gradually tightened the law on squattingby David Watkinson‘What is a squatter? He is one who, without any colour of right enters on an unoccupied house or land, intending to stay there as long as he can. He mayseek to justify or excuse his conduct. He may say that he was homeless and that this house or land was standind empty, doing nothing. But this plea is ofno avail in Law.’ (Lord Denning MR, McPhail v Persons Unknown, 1973 WLR71)Squatters have always had a close relationship withthe law. Many squatters have regarded the law as asource of protection, but the law has only fulfilledthis role sporadically and to a diminishing extent.However, were it not for certain ‘squatters’ rights’,squatting would undoubtedly not have establisheditself as it has done. The adroit use of the law bysquatters has frequently delayed evictions andprovided time for organisation and negotiation.The period from 1969 to 1977 was the high pointfor such opportunity. The law hardened againstsquatters during that time and so did theattitudes of judges who administer it. Thischapter looks at the way the law has reacted tothe growth of squatting and how this reactionrelates to the law’s essential functions.Unlawful but not illegalEnglish law has never regarded squatting by itselfas a criminal offence. In law a squatter is a trespasser.He is on property which someone else owns(or to which someone else is entitled to possession)without their permission. Trespass has never beenthe concern of criminal law (with minor exceptions,such as trespass on the railways) as it is notregarded as a matter between the individual andthe state. Instead it is regarded as a civil matter;a dispute between individuals over the possessionof property, which the owner must sort out withthe trespasser in civil courts where disputesbetween individuals are tried. Provided courtprocedure is followed correctly, an owner – or theperson legally entitled to possession – will alwayssucceed in a claim for a ‘possession order’. Theowner is then entitled to the services of the courtbailiffs in evicting a trespasser who remains inoccupation.In England, therefore, squatting is unlawful(ie an action which is wrongful by virtue of thecivil law) but not illegal (ie an action which iswrongful by virtue of the criminal law). The oldfarmers’ favourite, ‘Trespassers will beprosecuted’ is thus a con.The position is different in Scotland. By theTrespass (Scotland) Act 1865, it is a criminaloffence to ‘lodge in any premises or encamp onany land which is private property without theconsent or permission of the owner or legaloccupier’. The maximum penalty is a fine andimprisonment up to 21 days.Despite trespass not being a criminal offence inEngland, one of the law’s prime functions is theprotection of property. Owners have a legal rightto the possession of their property. There are afew restraints such as planning and compulsorypurchase legislation but their limited numberconfirms the sanctity of private property in acapitalist society. The law is not an independentarbiter enforcing fairness and morality. This mayappear to be stating the obvious but there is amyth fostered by the state and by judges that thelaw is in some sense abstracted from the societyin which it operates: the myth of impartiality andof doing ‘justice’. But that justice means that eachperson is entitled to only those rights the rules ofcapitalist society allow them – and one of thoserules is that trespassers have no right to possessionof land they trespass upon, regardless of theirneed or the reason the owner wants them off. Ifan owner wishes to keep a house empty and unusedfor many years at a time of housing shortage,the law will protect that right.It is perhaps surprising that squatters haveoccasionally had considerable success incontesting possession orders. For example• In November 1974, Elgin Avenue squatterswon a case on appeal (p 136).• In March 1977, Villa Road squatters earnt adelay of four months through arguing a licencein the High Court. They had already gained ayear through winning in the county court.• In April 1978, Huntley Street squatters in ‘central London had the case against themdismissed through claiming a licence (p 94).In all these cases, the squatters won extra timein which to organise politically. However, thesesuccesses need to be put in an overall context.They were all gained through the owner makingmistakes in using court procedure because of theway in which the rules are formed. But wherethe rules have shown themselves to hinder theessential function of guaranteeing possession tothe owner, they have, over time, been altered.It must be remembered too, that mostsquatters do not have any knowledge of the law.Because of their ignorance, squatters have notbeen able to put forward defences that were opento them in court cases or have been pressuredinto leaving squats when there was no legalnecessity to do so.In response to the need for legal advice, boththe Advisory Service for Squatters and Releasedeveloped considerable expertise in helpingsquatters to fight cases and through their advicemany court cases were won and many squatterssuccessfully resisted attempts by police to conthem out of their homes.The Forcible Entry ActsSquatting in 1969 commenced by takingadvantage of the long established principle thattrespass is not a crime. Consequently immediateeviction by police was not possible. Moreoversquatters could rely on the criminal law for somevital protection from forcible eviction by owners.For years every squatter invoked the ForcibleEntry Act of 1381 to counter threats of forcibleeviction without a court order. Enacted toestablish order in land disputes, it forbadeforcible entry on any land for any purpose – or soit appeared. Halsbury’s ‘Laws of England’ states:‘A person commits an offence both at commonlaw and by statute who enters forcibly upon anylands or tenements without due warrant of law.The offence is punishable with imprisonmentand fine. The offence may be committedwithout any person being assaulted. If personstake possession of either house or land, andthere is any kind of violence in the manner ofentry . . . that is sufficient.A mere trespass will not support anindictment for forcible entry; there must beevidence of such force ... as is calculated toprevent any resistance. If a person enterspeaceably into a house but turns the occupantout of possession by force, this may, it seems,be a forcible entry. It is not a forcible entrywhere entry is obtained through an unclosedwindow or by opening a door with a key.’ 1In other words, even a squatter who was onland when there was a forcible entry couldprosecute for forcible entry and no squatter couldbe convicted of forcible entry provided no forcewas used to enter unoccupied property. This wassimple enough. Most empty houses had open windows,doors or other means of access. If squatterssecured the property (for example by putting alock of their own on the door thus making itimpossible for the owner to enter except by force),then the owner could not enter and carry out aneviction without breaking the criminal law whichfew owners were prepared to do.The squatterswere normally secure until the owner obtained apossession order from the civil courts. WhenTop: A legal warning notice pinned on a squatter’s frontdoor to deter the owner from attempting to evict withouta court order. Pre 1977 Criminal law Act.Middle: Sample warning notice after the Act.Bottom: A summons against squatters in a block of flats.Reading Evening PostRedbridge council used hired thugs to evict squattersin 1969 (p 19), it brought public sympathyfor for squatters and convictions for the bailiffs.Speeding up court procedureIn 1970 it was quite difficult for owners to evictsquatters. As we have seen, they could not useforce and furthermore there was a major stumblingblock in using the court procedures; ownershad to find out the names of the squatters beforethey could seek possession. Possession orderscould not be made against unnamed people andeven when possession orders were obtained, theycould be executed only against the people namedon them. This allowed squatters to swap housesbefore the bailiffs came to prevent eviction.Obviously this state of affairs could not beallowed to continue. In 1970, new procedureswere devised to allow an owner to obtain a possessionorder against unnamed trespassers after sevendays of service of the summons. The owner wasgiven the choice of taking the matter to the HighCourt or to the county court (if the rateable valueof the property was less than £1,000), where proceedingsare cheaper. The new procedures werecalled Order 113 of the Rules of the SupremeCourt and Order 26 of the County Court Rules.Overturning precedent, the new rules alsoallowed owners to recover possession against‘persons unknown’ who were in occupationprovided they could show to the court that theyhad taken ‘reasonable steps’ to discover thenames. This normally meant describing visits bythe owner to the squatted property for thepurpose of asking the names of people there.Often up to a dozen visits would be made atdifferent times of the day. For a time the courtsapplied these rules with a certain amount ofcare. Judges spoke of a ‘very special procedure’which must be ‘strictly’ complied with. 2 Moreoverduring the early seventies when the propertyboom was approaching its peak the public washostile towards property speculators andrelatively sympathetic to the homeless who wereforced to squat. Many judges were affected bythese feelings and took them into account.When applying the law to the facts of a particularcase, judges generally have a choice as to howto exercise their power. To hold that the rulesmust be strictly complied with, as judges didinitially, was favourable to squatters, since, if an158159

19731974197519761977Possession orders granted and refused,1973 to 1977Applicationsfiled7761,6203,6894,7564,454Possessionordersgranted6051,3283,0964,1863,838Possessionordersrefused1437498066This table shows the effectiveness of 0.26 forsecuring possession orders and iindicates therapid increase of squatting,particularly between1973 and 1975. Each entry refers to ahousehold, not an individual.No similar statistics are available from theHigh Court relating to the use of Order 113.However, the statistical section of the LordChancellors office estimates the number oforders gained in 1977 to be 1,200 and it isprobable that the rate of refusals is similarlylow. (Source: Judicial Statistics. There are noseparate statistics for Order 26 applicationsprior to 1973. There are also no statisticsshowing the breakdown between squatting andnon-squatting cases under Order 26 and Order113. However, the vast majority of such casesinvolve squatters.)owner made a mistake in the procedure, thejudge would often dismiss the case or adjourn it.If a possession order was granted – as it was inthe vast majority of cases – judges frequentlygave squatters time to find alternative housingby exercising their power to suspend theexecution of possession orders for a few weeks.Judges did not always make these concessionssimply out of sympathy. On numerous occasionscourt cases have been fought backed by press andpolitical campaigning by squatters, with pickets,banners and placards outside the court on the dayof the hearing. Public galleries have been packedwith squatters and their supporters and childrenhave crawled up to the judge’s bench. When theVilla Road cases (p 147) were heard in the HighCourt, a picket outside played the ‘Lambeth Walk’on a piano. Squatters have movingly described incourt what it is like to be homeless andpresented evidence of the housing crisis. All thisactivity helped to influence court decisionsalthough no judge would ever admit it.The law tightens its grip‘The courts must for the sake of law and ordertake a firm stand. They must refuse to admit theplea of necessity to the hungry and homeless andtrust that their distress will be relieved by thecharitable and the good.’ 3During the early seventies, squatting increased,particularly in London, and in 1972 the LawCommission started its considerations on whetherthe criminal law should be tightened up in relationto trespass (p 57 ). It was not only squatting thatgalvanised the government into action for thiswas also the time of the Clydeside ship-builders’work-in, the occupation of the Fisher Bendixfactory in Kirkby and many other similar actionsby workers and students.But the time lag in framing legislation meantthat it was the civil courts which started the legalbacklash against squatters. The Court of Appealunder Lord Denning (Master of the Rolls) playedthe leading role. First, in 1971, it rejected argumentsthat it was a defence to Order 113 that thelocal authority seeking to use it against squatterswas in breach of its statutory duty to providetemporary accommodation for the homelessunder the National Assistance Act 1948. 3 It alsorejected the argument that the defence of‘necessity’ was available to squatters, ie that thewrongful act (trespass) was justified by a real andimminent danger (homelessness) that could nototherwise be averted. This was hardly surprising,but it closed up one possible line of defence.By the law of precedent, any decision like thison a point of law made by a high-ranking court,such as the House of Lords or the Court of Appeal,is binding on all lower courts. Decisions of HighCourt judges are normally followed by other HighCourt judges. Thus each specific case mentionedin this section affects the law relating to squatting.In 1973 Denning was again presiding in thecourt which decided that in squatting cases, thejudge did not have the power to delay the evictiononce the possession order was granted. This wasthe famous McPhail 4 decision and it meant thatsquatters could be evicted while on their wayhome from court. It was the remainder of thesame judgement that showed that any toleranceof squatters by the law was coming to an end.Denning held that the Forcible Entry Act did notapply to squatters at all. His judgement sweptaway the basic premise on which the squattingmovement had begun and six hundred years oflegal rights with it. He said:‘The owner is not obliged to go to the courts toobtain possession. He is entitled if he sodesires to take the remedy into his ownhands. He can go in himself and turn themout without the aid of the courts of justice.This is not a course to be recommendedbecause of the disturbance which might follow.But the legality of it is beyond question . . .Even though the owner himself should useforce, then so long as he uses no more forcethan is reasonably necessary, he is not himselfliable either criminally or civilly.’Legal commentators have not on the wholesupported Denning’s judgement as being correctin law. The Law Commission described it as ‘oversimplified’when it finally reported on this areaof the law. 5 Indeed, fortunately there was so muchuncertainty over it that landlords rarely used it asa justification for forcible eviction and continuedto apply for possession orders through the courts.Denning continued to whittle away at thelimited protection given to squatters by the courtprocess. In 1975, Order 113 was used againststudents in occupation at Warwick University. Thetrial judge found that the university had failed totake ‘reasonable steps’ to discover the names of allthe occupiers. Denning overturned this judgementon appeal. It was enough, he said, to namethe ringleaders and cover the rest with ‘personsunknown’. Ominously, in his judgement he said:‘Irregularities no longer nullify the proceedings.People who defy the law cannot be allowed toavoid it by putting up technical objections.’ 6This last comment indicated that he felt thatthe requirement to take ‘reasonable steps’ toidentify occupiers was superfluous. The WarwickUniversity case was soon followed by BurstonFinance Limited v Wilkins 7 a case which furtherweakened the ‘reasonable steps’ defence. Thejudge found that the landlord had clearly failedto take ‘reasonable steps’ but the squatters allknew of the proceedings anyway. This enabled thejudge to release the landlord from the obligationto take ‘reasonable steps’. Landlords thus hadtheir task made easier by a deletion of part ofthe judges rule book. This process was officiallyconcluded in July 1977 when new rules for bothHigh Court and county court proceedings wereissued. They cut the seven day advance warningperiod to five and removed altogether therequirement to take ‘reasonable steps’.Landlords thus had their already easy taskmade much easier by a judicial deletion of part ofthe judges’ rule book. This process concluded inJuly 1977 when new rules came into force cuttingthe seven day period of the summons to five, andremoving altogether the need to take reasonablesteps, simply substituting a requirement that thelandlord state in his affidavit that he does notknow the names of any of the occupiers.Apparently the senior lawyers who drafted therules no longer regarded it as desirable that ownersshould make any effort to discover information onthe squatters. Consequently squatters no longerknew that possession proceedings were being takenuntil the summons was actually served on the property.They no longer had the advance warning thatvisits from owners or their agents making enquiriesonce represented. Worse still, since only twocopies of the summons had to be served when proceedingswere against ‘persons unknown’ only, notall occupiers necessarily received notice of thehearing. They were given even less time to preparea defence or to find alternative housing. (The easeand speed of the new rules were a gift to unscrupulouslandlords who could try to use themto evict protected tenants who were unaware oftheir rights, a practice which had already grownup since the creation of Order 113 and Order 26.)The legal position of squatters was underminedin other ways. For example, the loophole wherebysquatters could swop houses was closed up in 1975by a case 8 at the Divisional Court of the QueensBench Division of the High Court. The courtdecided that it was the duty of bailiffs executinga possession order to evict everyone on thepremises whether named in the order or not. Thepossession order related to the premises, not thepeople on it. This decision affected many peoplewho weren’t squatters, particularly sub-tenants.Into the criminal arenaDuring this gradual erosion of the legal positionof squatters in the civil courts, the Law Commissionhad been at work framing the legislation thatwas eventually to become Part Two of theCriminal Law Act 1977. 9 The Law Commission’sbrief, given to it by Lord Hailsham in 1972, was‘to examine the statutes of forcible entry 1381to 1623 and relevant common law defences andto consider in what circumstances entering orremaining upon property should constitute acriminal offence or offences and in what formany such offence or offences should be cast’ 10The Law Commission is a body selected fromthe legal profession to examine areas of the lawthat the government of the day considers to be inneed of reform. Its proposals for new legislationare generally enacted.Lord Hailsham soon showed where his inclinationslay. Sitting in the House of Lords, he gavejudgement in 1973 in a case 11 involving a numberof students who had occupied the Sierra LeoneHigh Commission in London. They had beencharged with conspiracy to trespass, a strangecharge in view of the fact that trespass is not acrime. Hailsham astonishingly decided that sincetrespass was a tort (a legal term meaning awrongful act or omission which, if damage orinjury results, can be sued for in the civil courts),it was a criminal offence to conspire to commit it.Single-handedly he presented prosecutingauthorities with a charge that theoretically couldbe used against squatters or anyone taking partin any kind of occupation (e.g. workers or studentsit-ins). In fact, because of the legal dubiousnessof this decision, the offence, with one exception,was only used in relation to embassy occupationsand it was abolished by the Criminal Law Act.The Law Commission’s first report 10 on thequestion of trespass was devastatingly simple. Itrecommended that the Forcible Entry Actsshould be repealed and ‘conspiracy to trespass’should be abolished. In their place it proposedtwo new offences the effect of which would havebeen to make all forms of trespass a criminaloffence if the trespasser ‘failed to leave as soonas reasonably practicable after being ordered todo so by a person entitled to occupation.’The Law Commission received a barrage ofopposition to this proposal from trade unions, theTUC, students unions, the NUS, and housing,squatting and community groups many of whomhad been alerted by the newly-formed CampaignAgainst a Criminal Trespass Law (p 87). Evensome local authorities (including the GLC) andthe Association of Chief Police Officers opposed itand the Law Commission modified its proposalsin its final report published in March 19769. Thisstill represented an extension of the criminal lawinto the area of trespass. Five more carefullydefined offences were now proposed. With somefurther modifications and extensions theseoffences became law as part of the Criminal LawAct 1977 in December of that year.The new offencesConspiracy to trespass was abolished by theCriminal Law Act. However, agreements by twoor more persons to commit any of the five newoffences created in the same Act would bepunishable as conspiracies.The five new offences which came into force inDecember 1977 are:• Using or threatening violence to secureentry knowing there is someone presentopposed to the entry (Section 6)• Being on premises as a trespasser andfailing to leave after having been required todo so by a displaced residential occupier or aprotected intending occupier (Section 7)• Trespassing with a weapon of offence(Section 8)• Trespassing on embassy or consularproperty (Section 9)• Resisting or obstructing a bailiff or sheriffexecuting a possession order under Order 113or 26 (Section 10)It was a clever compromise between the originalsuggestions and those of their critics. The combinedeffect was to make squatting more difficult butnot impossible. By repealing the Forcible EntryActs and replacing them with Section 6, it becomespossible for landlords to evict squatters whilst theyare all out, for clearly, if there are people on thepremises who make their presence known, thenit is an offence to try to evict them. Section 6 thusleaves squatters with a degree of protection greaterthan if the McPhail decision had been allowedto stand but less than implied in the old ForcibleEntry Acts. Many landlords and local authoritiesare reluctant to try to enter property knowing itto be squatted in case the occupants reactviolently, so even after the Act came into force,most evictions continued to be through the courts.Squatters themselves do not commit an offenceunder Section 6 when initially moving into emptyproperty since there is no one already on the160161

premises. They must take care not to be caughtbreaking anything as they can then beprosecuted for criminal damage.The other offences are designed to hinder squattersin specific circumstances but not to make trespassgenerally into a criminal offence. Section 7creates the legal concepts of ‘displaced residentialoccupiers’ and ‘protected intending occupiers’ whoare protected from squatters. The first is merely aperson who is living in a house and who has beendisplaced by squatters. This refers to the myth ofpeople coming back from holiday to find squattersensconced in their bedroom. The ‘protectedintending occupier’ refers to certain categories ofpeople (e g council tenants and some purchasersof newly bought houses) who are prevented frommoving into their new homes by squatters. Boththese concepts are open to abuse by unscrupulousowners but the underlying intention is to securerapid repossession rather than criminalconvictions against the unlucky squatters.Section 8 is a wide-ranging offence that technicallycould be used against any squatter whocarries a pen knife. It represents a theoreticalrather than an actual threat against squatters asno instances of successful convictions had beenrecorded in the first two years of it being inforce. Section 9 is largely aimed at the type ofembassy occupation that resulted in the Kamaradecision and interestingly was not appliedagainst the squatters who took over theCambodian embassy left empty as a result of thechange of regime in that country (p 196).The intention behind Section 10 is fairly unequivocal.It is aimed at squatters who are preparedto put up any resistance against eviction.It presents the greatest threat of prosecution forsquatters as barricades and attempts to ward offbailiffs have been an integral part of many squattingstruggles. Not surprisingly, alone out of theseoffences, it resulted in several successful prosecutionsin the first two years of the Act both againstsquatters and against students involved in ‘sitins’.Not all prosecutions under this section havebeen successful. For example, out of 14 squatterscharged with ‘resisting a sheriff at Huntley Street,12 were acquitted because the sheriff could notprove that any of them had participated in theconstruction of the barricades although theywere behind them at the time of the eviction.All five of these offences are punishable by aprison sentence and therefore their potential as adeterrent to squatting should not be underestimated.However, they do not make trespass or squattingillegal except in very limited circumstancesand on embassy property. As they stand, theyrepresent one more turn in the law’s screw againstsquatters but they do not spell the end of squatting.And it’s not only squattersChanges in the law originally made to deal withsquatters later often extend their scope to coverother situations – including those in which theoccupiers did not enter as trespassers. AlthoughOrder 113 was introduced to speed up the evictionof squatters, it is now used regularly to evictstudents and workers in occupations. 12 Every alterationof the rules so far as squatters are concernedapplies to such occupations as well. In the eyes ofthe law, students and workers in occupation aretrespassers from the outset since they do nothave the permission of the owner to occupy.Withdrawal of permission by the owner canalso make licensees into trespassers. Licenseesare occupiers who have permission to occupyfrom the owner but do not have the status oftenants. Licensees can be lodgers, flat-sharers,people in bed-and-breakfasts or hostels and soon. Owners can terminate their right to occupyby giving reasonable notice and once the notice isup, the occupier becomes a trespasser. In thatcase, Order 113 or Order 26 can be used to evict.This was decided by the Court of Appeal in acase concerning Student Community Housing, ashort-life housing association. 13The result of these decisions is that manypeople who do not regard themselves assquatters find themselves being evicted by the‘squatters procedures’, with all the consequencesthat entails, i e the speed with which they comebefore the court and the absence of time to leaveafter the possession order has been granted.In some cases, landlords have even used Order113 and Order 26 to seek possession orders againsttenants, relying on the speed of the proceedingsand the tenants’ inexperience to see them throughto their rapidly-executed possession order. It isthis kind of behaviour that makes even more seriousthe consequences of simplifying procedures.The full scope of the new criminal offenceshas yet to be tested in the courts but the patternso far has been that legislation introduced to dealwith squatting has also been used against otheractivities perceived by the judiciary as being undesirableor having little claim to the protectionof the law. There is no reason to suppose it willbe different with the Criminal Law Act.Services threatenedSquatters were initially able to take advantage oflegislation relating to the supply of services (water,gas, electricity) to obtain them legally and withoutdifficulty. The Electric Lighting (Clauses) Act1899, Gas Act 1972 and Water Act 1945 lay aduty on the appropriate authority to supply theowner or occupier of any premises on request.The legislation contains no definition of the word‘occupier’, so for several years squatters wereable to argue that the authorities were obligedby statute to provide services, and that if theyrefused to do so the authority could be prosecuted.The authorities seldom refused absolutely tosupply squats, though there often needed to bediscussion and argument about it, and on occasionsquatters took direct action by occupying showrooms(p 134). On other occasions, large depositswere demanded.A decision early in 1975 was arguably moreimportant and potentially disastrous forsquatters as it threatened their supplies of theseservices. Squatters in Bristol sued the ElectricityBoard which had cut off their supply for aninjunction to have it put back on. 14 They pointedto the duty to supply the ‘occupier’ on demand inthe Electric Lighting (Clauses) Act 1899. Thejudge, however, referred to Denning’s decision inthe McPhail case in which he said:‘The squatters were themselves guilty of theoffence of forcible entry contrary to the Statuteof 1381. When they broke in, they entered“with strong hand” which the statute forbids.[There was in fact no evidence in the case thatthe squatters had broken in to the house.]They were not only guilty of a civil wrong.They were trespassers so long as theyremained there. The owner never acquiescedin their presence there. So the trespassersnever gained possession.’ 14The judge in the Bristol case was thus able to inferthat the squatters’ occupation was unlawful andby a judicial sleight of hand he added in the word‘lawful’ into the Act, thereby giving only lawfuloccupiers the right to an electricity supply. Andas the same wording occurs in the laws relating tothe supply of gas and water, a similarinterpretation can be made in respect of theirsupply. Squatters were thus no longer able tocompel authorities to supply services.The judge based his interpretation on the discreditedprinciples of Denning in McPhail. He alsoignored the ‘public health’ nature of the statutesrelating to the supply of services, as occupiedhouses without service supplies are a danger tohealth whether their occupants are owners,tenants or squatters. The term ‘occupier’ is usedin the legislation concerning the obligation topay rates and indeed it has been decided thatoccupiers who are trespassers are bound to payrates. 15 The duplicity of the law is well illustratedby this state of affairs: where it is advantageousfor squatters to be defined as occupiers, judgesrefuse to do so; on the other hand, when it meansthat squatters incur liabilities, judges have nohesitation in defining them as occupiers.Increasingly squatters have had difficulty inpersuading electricity boards to connect supplies.The London Electricity Board even disconnectedone block of flats, Trentishoe Mansions, in centralLondon, in 1977 after it had agreed to supply thesquatters and had even taken a deposit. Manysquatters have been forced to live without electricityand others have abandoned their homesbecause of the lack of service supplies. After theBristol case, certain local authorities quicklybecame notorious at arranging with the boardsto prevent squatters obtaining supplies whilst inother areas squatters did not have any problems.Worse still, some squatters have been prosecutedfor stealing electricity after they were refused alegal supply and had connected the supply themselves.Even where boards have been cooperative,they have tended to ask for larger deposits fromsquatters than from other consumers.ConclusionOccasionally judges have expressed sympathy forsquatters and their disapproval of owners leavingproperty empty. For instance, in a well publicisedcase in December 1974, Justice Templemancastigated the Crown Estate Commissioners fortheir handling of property near Regents Park:‘It seems to me a positive scandal that theproperty has been vacant since March 1970. Noexplanation is given in the affidavit. Counsel,struggling to do his best, tells me that therewere negotiations with somebody for a year;and since then the Commissioners have beenwrapped up in planning law and redevelopment.He also informed me, rather loftily, thatas a matter of policy the Crown EstateCommissioners do not deal with SquattersAssociations or people of that kind ... In myjudgement . . . it is profoundly unsatisfactory ...that nobody has enjoyed this property since1970, in a part of the world where the housingneeds are widely known to be extreme.’ 16While unable to avoid granting possession orders,sympathetic judges could delay proceedings byapplying court procedures rigorously, and couldsoften the blow by, for example, using theirauthority with owners to persuade them to allowsquatters time to make alternative arrangements.However, when the interests of owners are setagainst those of squatters on a point of law, it hasalways been the interests of owners that haveultimately prevailed. This has been especially truein decisions from ‘higher courts’ and in particularthe important Court of Appeal, headed by LordDenning. The owner’s right to possession is paramountin the eyes of the judiciary. If threatened,even by the technicalities of the law itself as usedby squatters, then that right must be protected.The law has not treated squatters as a classof person deserving any rights in law but ratheras a problem against which measures must betaken. The limited amount of toleration allowedthem by the law has been removed piece bypiece. New criminal offences have been createdto put further pressure on them. Althoughtrespass is still not a criminal offence, steps havebeen taken in that direction. Squatters are beingmoved from the position of individuals in disputewith landlords over possession of property tothat of criminals liable to have the penalmachinery of the state used against them. •162 163

A chosen way ofMore than a roof – squatting can be good for you15 Using the spaceCreating homes out of abandoned buildings16 Learning to learnThe confessions of a layabout, hippie, anarchistwoman squatter17 Outpost of a new cultureSquatting communities as a different way of life18 The squatters estate agencyThe inside story of Ruff Tuff Creem Puff, theonly estate agency for squatters19 From skippering to squattingSquatting as an alternative to hostels andlodging houses

Using the spaceby Andrew InghamChapter15Dave WalkingCreating homes out of abandoned buildingsI Peter Manzoni, restorer, of 29 Winchester Road,NW3, in the I.ondon Borough of Camden, dohereby make oath and say as follows: “On or aboutthe 30th June 1973, Mr Alan Shortland, Mr NigelPalmer-Jones and myself, the first three nameddefendants, having noticed that the premisesknown as 29 Winchester Road were open, unoccupiedand in an advanced stage of decay,entered thereon with the express intention ofcreating a home.One aspect of squatting that has escaped therelentless probing of our national and local mediais the way that derelict buildings can be turnedinto homes by freeloaders, bums, drug addictsand lefties. Some people might suppose thatempty, derelict buildings simply become occupiedderelict buildings – and in a few cases this mightbe true. The more cynical might imagine thatsquatters select their new residences with greatcare, so as not to inconvenience themselves withthe bother of renovation or redecoration – andthis too, can sometimes be true.But for the majority who squat the reality isvery different. They must transform condemned,derelict, abandoned and often deliberately guttedbuildings into habitable homes with littleresources or expertise, and at a fraction of the‘normal’ cost.Behind all the generated hysteria of the mediaand the political posturing, and beyond the social,legal and philosophical arguments, there is thereality of people housing themselves in difficultcircumstances. Anyone who moves into a derelicthouse, perhaps in the middle of winter, often withkids, possibly without electricity, gas or water,and faced with major repairs and the ever presentthreat of eviction, is not having it easy. Nor arethey freeloaders or spongers. In a sane worldthey’d receive the Queens Award for Industry.Instead, their efforts are ignored and they arediscouraged and hindered in every possible way.Most people come to squatting out ofdesperation. It is an interim, emergency solution,even a necessary ‘phase’ to qualify for a proper(council) house. They squat begrudgingly, feel thesocial stigma and can’t wait to get out. But thereare a few who squat out of frustration withofficial options, official deceptions and officialsolutions. It is not that they have to squat, butthat it is their best alternative. They findsquatting an opportunity, not a misfortune, andfind in it a means of coming closer to the way inwhich they would like to live. They find that theuniformity of lifestyle that society demandsexists much less within squats and squattingcommunities. For these people, squatting, despiteits disadvantages, works.There are many examples of how it works.Houses have been extensively altered, some moreadventurously and imaginatively than others,but each showing an individual search foridentity with the home. Houses have beentailored to fit the occupants, rather than theoccupants simply fitting themselves into thehouses. Occasionally people have added to theirenvironment those touches of fantasy, romance,eccentricity, imagination and joy that grow out ofpeople’s enjoyment of what they do. In one house,for instance, a room was entered through acupboard on a half landing. It was in fact a roomof the house next door but the dividing wall hadbeen knocked through because two lovers livedon either side. In another house a squatterpitched a tent in his room, painted the walls andceiling blue and carpeted the floor with thatexpensive imitation grass of the type favoured bygreengrocers.Top: Fire damaged house converted for community use,Villa Road, Lambeth 1979 (see p 175).Middle: Winchester Road, Camden, 1978.Bottom: Split-level living, Winchester Road, Camden, 1978.Far right: Converted loft space, Thicket Road, Bromley, 1976.Occasionally creative alterations may havenegative side effects like for one squatter whogradually removed from his room all unnecessarydecoration, the architraves, the skirtingboards, the picture rails and eventually even theplaster and lath from the ceiling – at which pointhe discovered its excellent sound proofingqualities. Another squatter sawed square theends of several large cable drums, packing themtogether to make a raised floor, leaving a gap inthe centre of the room to form a sunken bed. Itproved immensely impractical. All the debris ofthe room ended up in his bed, the door neededsevere surgery and the guy downstairs requiredscaffolding to hold the ceiling up!But these realised fantasies come later. First,there are the basic repairs.Before squatting a house it’s useful toundertake a little investigation – checking thephysical condition, the availability of services(gas, water, electricity) and the damage to thevarious installations. A working sink or toilet arelucky finds. The London Electricity Board (LEB)kindly indicates if the supply has been cut off atthe mains by writing ‘LEB OFF’ on the door. Justbefore I moved into a squat, a friend livingnearby noticed a hole being dug outside the frontdoor by an LEB workman. Luckily it takesdifferent workmen to dig and to cut, so before thelatter arrived, the hole was filled in and ‘LEBOFF’ appeared on the door.While such efforts are worthwhile, manysquatters have been surprised to find that life canexist without these ‘essential services’. Thoughnot everybody wants to live in this way, watercan be carried from nearby taps and cookers canbe fired with Calor gas, coal or wood. Many peoplehave discovered the delights of gas and paraffinlamps, and open fires. Alternatively electricityand water supplies can be connected from nearbyMike GoldwaterRay166Ray167

Prince of Wales Crescent, Camden, 1973 – Aden kellyVilla Road, Lambeth – Union Place CollectiveBow Tiangle, Tower Hamlets – Mike GoldwaterFarmbridge Road, Bromley, 1979 – Dave WalkingAden KellyOpening up the roof A greenhouse in the loft Wind generatorNew floors out of scaffoldingA pub bar makes a good kitchen work surfaceAden KellyRoger Sapsford/ Ismail AsmalBottle lampRoger Sapsford/ Ismail AsmalRoger Sapsford/ Ismail AsmalIce skate handleA kitchen out of floorboardsAndrew InghamNick WatesNick WatesAndrew InghamNick Wates Roger Sapsford/ Ismail AsmalExterior workSpace and shelving instead of a wallA bath in the living room

Frestonia, West London – Tony SleepWest Norwood, South London – Dave WalkingSauna from floorboards and oil drumPrince of Wales Crescent, Camden, 1973 – Aden KellySilverdale, Sydenham, 1975 – Dave WalkingJar storage and cat flapKitchen windowUnion Square, Lambeth, 1977 – Adam HarveyBeckenham, Kent, 1979 – Dave WalkingTolmers Square, London, 1978 – Nick WatesVilla Road, Lambeth, 1979 – Union Place CollectiveFrestonia, West London, 1979 – Tony SleepBeaumont Rise, Islington, 1979 – Adam HarveyPriory Grove, Lambeth – Roger Sapsford/ Ismail AsmalBrondesbury, London, 1979 – Tony Sleep170

BEFOREAFTERAndrew InghamTony Sleep 1978Tony Sleep 1977Richard & Sally Greenhill/ Time OutRichard & Sally Greenhill/ Time OutPriory Grove, Lambeth Freston Road, West London Priory Grove, Lambeth172houses by means of flexible piping and trailingleads. Although not illegal, this solution caninvolve complex cover-up jobs in the event ofinspection from officials if the supplier is not tobe cut off too.Restoring water, gas and electricity supplies,mending drains, roofs, windows and floors,plastering and decorating are tasks undertakenby most squatters. To the inexperienced theymight seem impossible. If professional tradesmenwere called in they would cost a fortune. Butmost repairs are common sense and can be donecheaply with very few tools. It’s ideal if there issomeone to demonstrate how to do them, but, ifnot, there are books (pp 236-7), pamphlets,evening classes and over the counter advice.The most consistent argument raised againstpeople doing their own repairs is the danger.There is of course danger in making alterationsand installing services. But there is also dangerin being ignorant of them. No-one I know hasbeen seriously hurt by doing their own repairs.No-one would claim that squatters’ repairs arecarried out to the same standard as aprofessional job – they simply don’t need to be.That they work, last a few years and can bepatched up again is enough. Using labourintensivemethods, salvaged materials andfittings (often from skips) sharing knowledge andgenerally ‘making do’ enables squatters to dowhat officialdom with its regulations dare notattempt. In practice squatting repairs are astrange mixture. There are elements ofpragmatism like the use of polythene pipe forcold water plumbing which enables a house to beplumbed easily and cheaply; ingenuity like thepeople who used a gang plank for a missingflight of stairs; baroque fantasy like the leakypipe whose drips were caught in an upturnedtruncated Fairy Liquid bottle and redirected viaa hose pipe and bent wire coat hanger into thelavatory pan; and desperate ‘cunning’ like theburst cold water pipe to a bath tap that sent thesquatters onto the street in panic, only for apasser-by to hammer the pipe flat, which meantthat for ever more cold water had to be piped viaa hose from the basin tap.Learning to do these repairs, no matter howbadly, can liberate people from the mystery andtyranny of the workings of a house and, eventually,from dependence on expensive professional services.Some squatters have gone on to start smallbuilding firms after doing an ‘apprenticeship’ ontheir own home. Once learnt, these skills arenever forgotten. One may lose a squat, but oneneed never lose the experience necessary tosquat again and again. The experience andability become in themselves a security.Many people are appalled by – what they seeas – squalor in squats and by surroundings whichbear no resemblance to the Sunday colour supplementimage of an ideal home.But they forget thatthe squatters may wish or need to live in theirown way, that they may have entirely differentpriorities and may, of necessity, be ‘making do’.They cannot easily know what conditions existedinitially, nor under what circumstancesimprovements are made or planned, for mostsquats are never ‘finished’. Nor do these criticsunderstand that having the freedom to makethese changes is what gives the squatters thechance to identify with them. The power to shapeone’s environment can be more important than theend result and squatters are forced to recognisethe process – the ‘doing’ – over the product.The relationship between a squatter and hisor her house is unique. Tenants who rentprivately are living in another person’s housewith that person’s tastes and restrictions. Theypay through the nose for conditions that can beno better than a squat.Council tenants can only relate to their dwellingin a restricted and prescribed way. There isno opportunity for personal whim or expressionand little incentive to repair, maintain orimprove – nor any possibility of anything but‘normal’ social arrangements: whoever heard of acommune being started on a council estate?And owner occupiers (particularly themajority who have to rely on mortgages) mustalways restrict themselves to changes andadditions which retain or improve the resalevalue of the property. They must abide by therules, regulations and opinions of officialdom.Social arrangements are restricted by the natureof the houses that are mortgageable and by thestandards and whims of those who lend money.Try getting a mortgage as a homosexual couple!Apart from the ultimate sanction of evictionsquatters alone are free of most petty bureaucraticcontrols, of property values and of landlords. Thisallows them to do things that would be difficultor impossible in other types of accommodation: topractise rock and roll till 5 am in the morning or173Aden Kelly 1973Tony Sleep 1980Tony Sleep 1979Catching the drips: Prince of Wales Crescent (above)and Freston RoadImprovised drainpipes: Freston Road and Fieldgate MansionsDave Hoffman 1980

Proposal by squatters in Hebden Bridge, Yorkshire, forthe long term conversion of their hillside terrace (p 46),1976. It envisaged;• Workshops for printing, sign-writing, weaving andmaking clothes.•Two children’s houses: one each for the under-fives andthe older children. These would incorporate play andsleeping space, a creche and education facilities.• A house for common activities with two bathrooms, asauna, TV rooms, music room, quiet room/library andlaundry.• Sixteen self-contained flats.• Wind generator and organic garden.The squatters offered to do most of the building workthemselves but Calderdale Council rejected the proposalin favour of an expensive conversion into standardnuclear family units.How squatters adapted terraced Victorianhouses in Villa Road, Lambeth, to suit theirneeds. Following a protracted battle with theCouncil, the squatters may well be allowed tostay permanently (see Chapter 12).Nos 37 and 39 operate as one household with14 bedrooms and a large communal living,eating and cooking area in the rear basementswhere the party wall has been knocked through.Practically gutted by fire, No 11 wasconverted into a cafe/meeting room/dancing space/theatre on three floorswith platforms at split levels. It was laterconverted into 3 bedrooms because ofpressure of space and lack of communalmaintenance.No 9 and 7 have beenknocked together in twoplaces to form one housewith 12 bedrooms andmany communal facilities,apart from a roomon the ground floorwhere an elderly manlives a self-containedexistence. Corrugatediron has been left on onewindow to create aphotographic darkroom.to be able to work and live in the same houseperhaps by setting up workshops and smallbusinesses. For some it’s an opportunity not tocare, to live in neglect and squalor, or to have aconstant stream of deadbeats and acid casualtiesdossing down on every available inch of floorspace. It can be a chance to live alone, Buddhalike,or to live with many others, sharingcooking, repairs, childcare, the garden and eachother. Where many squatters have moved into awhole area, communality can extend beyond theboundaries of each house turning the wholestreet into an intimate living place. Communityshops, restaurants, bulk buying, creches,workshops and small businesses have all had achance to exist in squatting communities. (p42)While buildings can never make a community,it helps a community if it can adapt its buildingsto its growing and changing needs. So after basicrepairs come alterations which make interactioneasier – tearing down partitions, garden walls,enlarging rooms and connecting houses.It is ironic that in many areas awaiting demolition,squatters, using only their initiative andtheir meagre resources have installed for the firsttime bathrooms, inside toilets and hot runningwater. It is ironic too that they have frequentlygone on to establish flourishing, dynamic selfsupportingcommunities which planners,architects and bureaucrats have found so hard tocreate despite the resources available to them.Squatting is a very human activity, full ofcontradiction, inconsistency, wonder anddesperation. It contrasts so sharply with oursociety’s general approach to problems that it isseen as a problem. The great tragedy of the postwar rebuilding programme is its failure to haveallowed ordinary people to contribute positivelyto their own environment. Instead it was left to afew experts – idealistic, enthusiastic, but wrongheaded– to arrange it all for everyone else.The outcome is all around us – mediocre, meanand inadequate modem council housing. Slumshave been cleared and replaced with buildingsthat have bathrooms, but are of little betterquality. The cost has been huge, both financial andin terms of the destruction of communities andthe waste represented by unoccupied land andhouses. In the street where I live, one resident wastold 35 years ago not to do any improvements orrepairs as it would all be coming down soon.There is still no sign of the development.Providing everyone with a bathroom hasproved both impossible and undesirable. There isan obsession to rationalise, and to adoptuniversal standards for everything. In 1961 theParker Morris Report described a house in termsof the activities it must contain – watching TV,taking a bath and getting a wardrobe up thestairs. It was considered a great breakthrough.But its minimums rapidly became maximums,and in any case, on whose activities was itbased? Not mine.To illustrate the insanity of taking thesethings to extremes is The Bathroom, a 300 pagebook published by Penguin based on a seven yearresearch project to describe the activities andfacilities of the bathroom, from piss trajectoriesto ‘expectorating’, and from cleaning of thebathroom to inserting contact lenses.Working and living, learning and dying are allruthlessly separated in the name of environmentalimprovement. But the result is always tomake things poorer, more obvious, predictable andboring. The environment has been dehumanised.Houses are more than just machines for living inand the cities more than a few aestheticallyplacedtower blocks amongst areas of grass.Andy Milburn, September 1980The small house wasbuilt in the gardensby a man andwoman who retainlinks with severalhouses for services(see also p 177).174175

Caroline LwinAdam HarveyAdam HarveySquatters buildLeft: A roof extension made from salvagedtimber and slates, Priory Grove, Lambeth, 1975.Below: A glass fibre and timber home built bysquatters on the ruins of a house from whichthey had been evicted, Grosvenor Road,Twickenham, 1976.Right: A house under construction and (farright) a (different) small house built in the backgardens of a squatted street, Villa Road,Lambeth 1978-80.Syndication InternationalTony Sleep 1977Union Place CollectiveUnion Place CollectiveLiz MillenLiz MillenRationalisation is an attempt to make anessentially amorphous, open ended human experiencedefineable and quantifiable. Architectsand planners in particular rely on numerous‘design guides’ so that a ‘guide to user needs witha check list’ has come to replace real people!As more and more is defined, rationalised andcontrolled, less and less is left to chance personalchoice, or individual responsibility. Everyonefrom the architect to the labourer becomesincreasingly dissociated from what he or she isdoing. One only need look at the results to seethe boredom and indifference in every brick. Theonly return for the day’s work is the wagepacket, which in turn buys the relief to the day’sboredom.Whenever the government is faced withensuring a precise standard for safety or whatever,it is always in the same way. It removes allresponsibility from the public and invests it inthe professional institution. All professions relyon an elaborate system of deferred responsibilityto consultants, regulations, by-laws, legaldefinitions, official reports and guides andultimately to heavy insurance.People are increasingly encouraged to beignorant about more and more things. In our 12or 15 years of schooling, what are we taughtabout our own personal or communal survival,about building or growing food or about healthcare and diet? Little of any practical value.People have no choice but to rely on ‘experts’ sothose unable to afford them go without anyadvice.In the past people could build their ownhomes but gradually laws were passed, oftenwith the best intentions, which madeprofessionals responsible for this aspect of ourlives. Today anyone trying to provide forthemselves is discouraged or prevented. They areconsidered deviants and the monopolistic statusof professionals has been created.It is my hope that in squatting there are theseeds of real humane alternatives to thisinstitutionalism of life. Through squattingthousands of people have housed themselves fornext to nothing and had the opportunity to livein ways that could never be imagined in thereams of studies, researches and reports of theexperts. To those who care to look properly,squatting is a positive creative force in the dyingurban environment. •176 177

‘I Peter Manzoni, restorer, of No 29 WinchesterRoad NW3 in the London Borough of Camden,do hereby make oath and say as follows:On, or about, 30th of June 1973, Mr AllanShortland, Mr Nigel Palmer-Jones and myselfhaving noticed that the premises known as No 29Winchester Road were open, unoccupied and inan advanced stage of decay, entered thereon withthe express intention of creating a home. Desiringto communicate this to those having a legalinterest in the property, the said three defendantswent, within a few days, to Student CommunityHousing and asked whether they still had anyinterest in the property. They said they had none,which confirmed reports that the building wasgenerally deemed to be beyond repair and wouldprobably be demolished.The entrance hall of the house had been usedas a place to dispose of unwanted buildingtimber. A difficult climb over this led to the shoppremises. The shop front had been termed a‘dangerous structure ‘ by the District Surveyor onaccount of its frontal timber beams being rotten.The basement and back yard had been used asan engineering works. No waste had left thebasement in many years. The industrial wastehad been loaded into the cellars first, then, asthey filled up it had been dumped into the leastused passageways and finally the back and lowerback yards and what had been a scullery inmuch earlier times. These were now a scene ofcommercial waste, rotting refuse, rubble andvermin. I chased a rat, in the yard.A flow of people making very short-term use ofthe property had left their traces there in manybizarre forms. The house was strewn all over withabandoned objects, all of which were disused,defunct or broken.The three upper flats had several windowsmissing and were by now inhabited by many nestingbirds. The floors at the back of the top twoflats were unsafe to walk on and warnings hadbeen painted on the doors to this effect. The bathroomfloors were near collapse as were also thefollowing: the ceilings in the top flat, part of theinterior wall adjacent to the stairs between thefirst and second floors; the front ends of the twomain roof beams which form the valley; the lintelsabove many windows on the first and second floors;all the ceilings on the main staircase, entrance halland back lobby; the basement stairs; the sculleryceiling; the door to the lower back yard, withsurrounding frame and lintel: the floor of theback lobby and part of the shop floor, throughwhich I fell. The basement floor was unusable asmuch of it was by now merely earth.The flats had suffered severely from the unimpededentry of rainwater through the roof andmissing windows. This had evidently been goingon for several years and had led to an uncheckedoutbreak of dry rot, a fungus which is greatlypromoted by water. The main exterior wall at theback of the house had been seriously weakened byan ill-executed addition of bathrooms to the flats,built up on the outside with doorways crudely cutthrough the brickwork. Dry rot had ravaged thebrickwork here and loosened all the plaster insidethe bathrooms. The remains of the plumbing andgas installations hung in disuse ready to fallthrough the floors.Given the condition and contents of thepremises it soon became obvious that the kind ofrepairs the house needed, involving a great dealof excavation, replacement of structural timbers,and rebricking of the exterior wall, could not becarried out on a short-term basis. Either thehouse should be abandoned and allowed tocollapse or it should be given an entirely newlease of life. It was decided by Mr Palmer-Jonesand myself to make the building viable foranother century. The premises were thoroughlyexcavated as the restoration got under way. Allaffected structural timbers were duly replacedand no doubtful timbers were allowed to stay.Camden ‘s District Surveyor came to inspectthe dangerous beam above the shop front in thesummer of 1973 and condoned the standard towhich the rest of the house was being repaired.He came up to the top of the house and inspectedthe front lintels replaced by us. In my presence hesaid to a person with him that this sort ofinitiative would have to be encouraged ‘given thepresent housing situation’. He offered his furtheradvice to us, should we wish to consult him atany time in the future. I felt that our work wasacceptable to the Council and this incidentencouraged me in my work and the belief that theplaintiffs had accepted our constructive presencewhere vandalism had been before.I have paid rates since January 1974.Since many of the walls and ceilings, particularlyon the top floor where rain had penetratedmost, were beyond redemption it seemed mosteconomic to remove them altogether and encourageRayNick WatesNick WatesNo 29 Winchester Road, Camden, aderelict house rehabilitated bysquatters (see also p 167 for firstfloor). Far left: Ground floor workshopwith stained glass window.Second from left: An original placefor the bath. There is a shower andwash-basin under the bath platform.Below and bottom right: All internalwalls and ceiling removed tocreate a large dining/living roomon the top floor. Right: Bed platform.Below right: New fire-place.In 1979 Camden Council evictedthe squtters and spent £100,000converting the house into three flatshousing a total of seven people.Nick WatesNick Wates Nick Wates Nick Watesan open area which might be shared by all.The house has evolved into a shared structurewith much open space inside. Facilities are sharedon the top floor, in the newly-built bathroom andshower and in the basement. There are twobusinesses on the ground floor. These comprise myown workshop for restoration work on, off and tothe premises; and Mr Shortland ‘s workshop forhandmade furniture, which also related to hisadditional work as an evening craft instructor.Both of these workshops have been fitted out tothe requirements of the defendants’ trades, andneeded extensive work doing to them before that.All of this work has had to be done in stageswhilst the defendants have lived amid the demolitionwork, earning their livelihoods to finance itand spending much of their free time building thehome, except where it has been possible to workfull-time on the house. At last, during the past sixmonths, no more, has the house come to feel cleanand sound enough to be a home.The defendants knew of the plaintiffs’ intentionto redevelop the site, but since so many schemesfor the site have been put forward and abandoned,not only during the time that the defendants havelived there, but during the several years in whichthe property stood empty and was vandalised,that it has become impossible to believe that theplaintiffs have any cogent or durable idea as towhat sort of development they wish to bring about.No 29 Winchester Road is an example of anapproach to housing which is becoming current.It is an extended family made up of single parents,couples, individuals and children who live andwork together sharing facilities. By removing thepsychological barriers which cause people to livein self-contained units it is possible to poolresources and so withstand economic inflation.If the proposed eviction were to take placeseveral of these people would become a burden onthe state and part of a widespread experiment inhuman relations would have been terminated.The discouragement of this approach to housingin London will lead to further waste, and therecycling of waste is now one of the next frontiersof economic growth. Any initiative such as hasbeen shown in this case is surely worthy ofencouragement, especially where a traditionalterrace has been saved.’(Affidavit filed by Peter Manzoni in the HighCourt when opposing a possession order byCamden Council 1977 [editors’ emphasis] ).178179

Learning to learnby Pat MoanChapter16Eva NewnhamMoving into 29 Harecourt Road was like cominghome.I guess what it is with squatting iscommunity – a textbook word, till you try it. Aplace where strange exotic tribes of natives live.Now I live in Finsbury Park, Islington. Acommunity. And boy, is it strange. Here there islife.People don’t just sleep here. They live here –work, play, sit on the front porch talking andsinging, drinking beer.Graffiti. Posters of past campaigns. Dossersloons, artists. Dogs, a goose.There is conflict of course. We all know aboutthat. But its the co-operation that really knocksme over.I’m sick of reading and hearing all the timeabout squatting that it is a problem, a dragsomething interim till we ‘solve’ the problem ‘No More Crummy Jobs!Squatting is the most fun I’ve ever had. No rent.Whoopee! No rent means you can give up full-timeemployment firstly due to needing less moneyand secondly due to having more fun not working.Most jobs in our society either don’t needdoing or could be done vastly more efficiently,that is, with less waste of time and resources.And most people doing most of these jobsknow it. Deep down, or maybe not even verydeep, they know that they are wasting their lives– somehow this crummy job is not Life.For example, factory workers spend most oftheir time engaged in the production of junk thatis designed to fall apart. Besides which quiteoften the people making the stuff couldn’t everafford to buy it.Wasted LivesSo vast numbers of factory workers, moneycollectors, bureaucrats, teachers, students, etc,are exhausted dulled, and demoralized by themeaningless way they spend their lives.They become escapists. They learn tosubstitute consumption for action. They becomeGood Citizens. Buying cars, buying clothes,buying houses, buying . . .Sometimes people try to fall ‘in love’ and/orget married and/or have babies in order to feelmore useful and relieve the boredom When itdoesnt work, they may add ‘guilty’ and ‘bitter’ tothe other bad things they feel.Taking Care of MeAs a squatter, I find my need for the glitteringworld of status possessions becoming less and less.Buying less and enjoying it more.Because we spend less time at jobs we canspend more time taking care of our own needswhich in turn saves a great deal of money. Youcouldn’t work a 40-hour week and scrounge,mend motorcycles, build, paint, make your ownmusic, clothes, jam, etc.In fact, you’re lucky if you can do more thancollapse.1976My daily life has been totally transformed.When you are no longer impaled on a 40-hourwork week trying to pay the rent and indulgingin expensive week-end, escapist diversion, whatyou are left with is time.Time to do things, time to make things, timefor yourself, time for others.We have time to get down to the business ofliving.By really living together in a group the monetaryvalue that is placed on certain functions by a consumersociety is replaced by our own values whichare based on REAL needs and REAL pleasures . . .A tasty meal is one of the great pleasures oflife and is recognised as such.The ability to prepare it is appreciated asmuch as the ability to fix the radio.The competitive and comparative approach isreplaced by a co-operative one.Learning to LearnIn this climate,skills are easily and joyously passedalong. For one thing, if you don’t share your skillsStreet party in Athelstane Road, June 1976Above: The street ‘spirit’.Left and right: Streetswimming pool.Pat MoanPat Moan

Penne David‘The Squatters Show’ by thePersons Unknown streettheatre groupit means you get stuck doing this one thing morethan you want.It feels good to be showing someone how to dosomething.It does not feel so good to be doing somethingfor someone who could be doing it themselves.While a bit of plumbing for yourself is satisfyingdoing it as a job, as a hireling, it is a bore.Squatters have given and taken free crashcourses in plumbing and electricity as well as justshowing friends how to do things ...like juggling,music, printing, photography and mechanics.This style of learning and teaching isfundamentally a desire to learn or pass oninformation and skills as opposed to a desire toeither get or keep a job.It is leading to the breakdown of mystiqueand obfuscation, which can no longer appear inthe guise of real communication.Death to Sex RolesPeople in this situation do not feel threatened byother people’s competence. And somewhere at thecore of all this lies the dying phenomenon ofsexual role-playing. Hallelujah!Differences become interesting instead ofscary as men and women become friends. Dittomen and men and women and women.We share a vision which involves arecognition of other people as fellow beings, eachwith a story to tell.People ask questions as opposed to pretendingthey know something which they don’t.People answer questions straight withoutpatronising or sneering at the questioner.Last year, B S (before squatting) I felt isolated,wanting something, not knowing what – just whatNOT. I wanted a community of peers, support,like-minded people so as not to be alwaysdefending myself and my outlook.I was ripe for squatting. When one is ripe, onecreates opportunities.The quality of my everyday life has neverbeen better.This is the revolution. It is on now. Not only isit bloodless and leaderless, it is fun.(Written by Pat Moan and first published in TheSquatter (see p. 185), Islington, London, 1976.)Above: Athelstane Road after eviction.Below: Fighting eviction in Charteris Road.Maureen O’ConnorFive years onMy horizon no longer shimmers with the promiseof free-housing revolution. I really believed, then,that squatting was such a good idea that obviously,very soon, everyone would do it. I feel slightlyfoolish now, even though I still think squatting isa good idea and everyone should do it.I miss the thrill of ripping off corrugated iron,the satisfaction of talking the gas man out ofcutting off my supply, the fluidity betweenhouses the general inventiveness andsatisfaction of getting something for nothing. Theeffects still ripple through my life and are part ofme now. The world was at my feet and for thefirst time in my life I really got into doing what Iwanted to do, instead of what I was supposed todo. I think men generally have a broader rangeof opportunities so I doubt if they experience thisfreedom as intensely as women.Squatting has been a tremendous influence onthe lives of many women. And vice-versa. FreeSpace in which grew, and still grow, women’shouses, women’s communities, refuges forbattered women and women’s centres. Nothaving to pay rent freed women to start uppresses, art places, bookshops – none of whichwould have happened if we’d had to pay rent. Awave of women plumbers, electricians,carpenters, mechanics, activists, musicians andartists came out of the squatting boom.Since 1975 I have been amazed over and over bythe dynamic women of the squatting movement:intimidating bailiffs, shaming police andembarrassing politicians in a direct and forcefulway which most men are incapable of becausethey are so emotionally contained. One day inFinsbury Park the bailiffs evicted a woman andher six children. A group of us rallied in thestreet and an Irish woman neighbour gave thosecops such a talking-to that half an hour laterthey were helping to move the furniture backinto the house from which it had just been taken.We had a lot of little victories like that whichmade up for the fear and insecurity. Things thatmade us mad, spurred us on, got us high. Aswomen, we really started to feel our power, individuallyas well as collectively.There was a generalchallenging stance in the whole atmosphere. Itwas illegal (I thought). Stealing houses (they said).It was taking a risk, breaking the law and onceyou’d done it and started thinking about whyhouses were empty, it made you think about a lotof things. You’d crossed a line, you’d hit thebottom and it wasn’t so bad. In fact it was veryliberating leading on to the next question: whatabout all these other stupid laws, conventionsand attitudes which people hold sacred?Brenda: ‘Since the neighbours were all gossipingabout us anyway I felt I could do what I wanted.I just cared less what people thought.’We kept finding out that we weren’t powerlessand they weren’t omnipotent. Possibilities bloomedbefore my eyes. The whole area of skill-sharingopened up a wealth of possibilities to women. Ifelt very encouraged by things going wrong formen, like when Pete’s lovingly constructed flowerboxes, finished and varnished, sprang apart inthe first rain. It’s more encouraging, when you’relearning, to see people try and fail rather thansimply succeed. You feel there’s hope for you.Pat: ‘I never used to saw until I started squatting.I’m sure I’d never picked one up.’Christine: ‘No, I never either. I used to just fightwith a saw. Now I’m quite a good saw-er. No. Iam, I’m really good.’Pat: ‘I saw Mo sawing and thought if she can doit, I can do it. She showed me how to start it off. Ithink up to that point I’d just felt you were bornknowing or not knowing. I realised someonecould actually teach you something like that. Iremember Pete, on the other hand, coming alongwhile I was sawing and saying, “You ‘re not doingit straight. shall I do it for you?” by which timehe was actually trying to take the saw out of myhand. I fought him for it. I felt he was showingoff under the pretext of being helpful.’Christine: ‘Oh yeah, he really fancies himselfquite a saw-er.’ (Laughter)It became apparent too, that a lot of timesmen really didn’t want you to know how to dosomething that they did. As I was having reallypositive experiences of women sharing knowledgewith me I was able to see, for the first time, thatjust because a man agreed to show you how to dosomething it didn’t mean he would necessarilyshow you in a way that would be helpful. Forexample, instead of showing you how to play asimple chord on the guitar like E, he shows you183

a difficult one like F barre. All of which meantthat if I didn’t get the hang of somethingstraight away I no longer thought, ‘Oh I’museless and can’t do anything right’, but began tothink more critically about who was showing meand what their trip was.For us women, the more skilled and confidentwe became, the angrier we got about being ignored,particularly by certain men fancying themselvesas Leaders, Experts or Lady Killers. While I wasworking on the first and last issue of The Squatter,which was largely produced by me and Al Rees, afriend of his from the left rolled up to help out atthe end. He only talked to Al, he only looked atAl and he only asked Al questions. It was like Iwas invisible. And I thought well that’s really IT.If you work with a man on anything, then it isalways seen that he did it and you helped him.So then I started living with women. I reallyneeded to know that we could get it all togetherand be recognised that we could get it all together.If there were men around most of them just hadthis way of not letting you get around to anything.Like when Penny was going to put the toilet in, shewent on a squatters plumbing course and whileshe was still thinking about it, Michael whippedit in. Of course, we were glad to have the toiletMike Goldwater 1979done and Penny felt she couldn’t complain. But itdidn’t do much for her confidence.There was a lot of shame involved in notknowing. I mean if you believed in beingcompetent – but weren’t, and felt embarassed orawkward about asking. If you didn’t know how tochange a fuse a man would take it as furtherevidence of your general ineptitude whereas awoman would show you how. And when youbegan to succeed instead of fail, asking becameeasier so it was a kind of habit you developed. Asa child I remember that whenever I asked myfather what was some tool or other, his stockreply was ‘It’s to make little girls ask questions.’It became more important as time went on, notonly for myself but for ‘myself-as-a-woman’ that Iput in the slog and kept at things until I could dothem. I had to break a habit of giving up easily. Iwanted to be able to learn from women. I wantednever to feel ashamed of not knowing. I amprepared to learn from men but I’m not preparedto be squashed and I do know the difference.Christine: ‘It was a whole sort of reawakening. Asense of freedom like I had when I was a kid.Suddenly I had it all there again. There was anything you could do and it was all right! It wasjust amazing. Ever since then when I’ve movedout of squatting communities I’ve found thepeople really stodgy and boring. They just haven’tgone through all that shedding of values thatgoes on when you squnt. And the whole energycurrent was great.’Kathy: ‘The houses were. things to do inthemselves and it was really creative, too.’Christine: ‘Oh yeah, it was really DO-power,Union Place Collectiveinstead of just sitting around talking.’Brenda: ‘I’d been on the fringe of squatting for along time before I squatted. I experienced it asbeing a place for freaks to crash and screw ...disorganised and I certainly didn ‘t want to do it...sleeping in dirty sleeping bags on the floor ...being really dirty and untogether. But those placesweren’t households, they were very transient.’Even the cosy squats tended to be prettymessy, and were a lot of work and a guaranteedcure to being fastidious. Most of them neededmajor work. So it was big dirty work we went infor, knocking down walls and building platformbeds rather than worrying about clean floors andsparkling glasses. The whole lowering ofstandards on the housekeeping front was a bigrelease for women. And because the houses wereactually being thrown away by society, we had alot of freedom to practice, to bodge and to playwith paints and colours.Some squatted houses were more of a no-man’sland than others, like around Broadway Marketin Hackney where the majority were all-womenhouses and the women ran the Broadway MarketSquatters Association.Pat MoanPonk: ‘The women helped me get into a house. Mybrother and male friend didn ‘t turn up until itwas all over – a typical pattern in BroadwayMarket, I was to discover.’Pat: ‘What? Women doing the breaking in?’Ponk: ‘Yeah. Wasn’t it like that all over?’Pat: ‘Oh no. It must have been like that becauseyou were all women there and talked to thewomen who turned up, not the men.’Ponk: ‘Yes. I suppose we just ignored them. Inever really thought about that. Meeting thosewomen really changed my life. For me, it’s reallyall been about women’.Kathy: ‘If I hadn’t discovered squatting and,more important, squatting with women I wouldnever have had the opportunity to take on thingsthat had, at one time, seemed impossible. Itstarted out with practical things and became awhole attitude of mind.’For me too, squatting has been about women,about power, about independence and breaking adeadening pattern of passivity. •Squatters’ paper published in Islington, London, 1976.Tony Sleep 1980184185

Outpost of a new cultureSquatting communities as a different way of lifeby Tom OsbornChapter17Defying the wreckers from the rooftopsUnion Place Collectiveeat, and use a lot of our resources together. Thisis the case for most of the houses in the street.The street is a community. We had a Christmasparty with 30 people and many dishes fromdifferent houses. We closed the street (officially)on Jubilee Day 1977 and had an outdoorbreakfast with 60 people. We borrow (andsometimes lose) each other’s tools. The fewworking bathrooms are used by everyone.Together we work out our strategy in the fightfor the street to stay up and for us to stay in it.We work out our relationships with otherorganisations and the co-ordination of repairs andrehabilitation. We belong to a vegetable co-opand a co-op for storable food has started withinthe street. We share a compost heap. We allprovide food throw-outs for chickens. There was aband in the street which made music for all ofus. We dance together and play football together.We have moved some way towards collectiveownership, towards sharing our resources and towardsbeginning to answer that question: ‘How canFrisbee in the ruinsAnna KolpyI want to write about squatting as part of alarger movement towards a new culture.Squatters are a kind of urban pioneer. Theysettle the desert wastes of our cities, and as withall pioneers, they bring a new culture.Most of the pioneers we know about were propagatingcivilisation. They civilised the open spacesand the ‘savages’ that lived there – and theircivilisation too often ended up destroying both thenatural environment and the culture of the peoplewho were part of it. Squatters, however, are engagedin a de-civilising process – that is if we definecivilisation as our existing technological, bureaucratic,exploitative and alienating culture. Theiraim is an alternative society, a better life no less.When people make the choice to squat, theydo not say to themselves: ‘I am doing this to makea better society’. Their choice is the product ofthe pressures encountered in “life beforesquatting’. In many cases they may be actuallyon the streets, or more likely, living in temporaryaccommodation, unable to find work, withoutsavings, and lacking skills and qualifications. Isometimes call this the working-class choice tosquat. Alternatively, people may be refusing tocontinue in the vicious circle of earning in orderto live in a way that enables them to earn thatmuch. They may be well-educated or in theprocess of becoming so, but they won’t use theirtraining within the existing culture. This is whatyou could call the middle-class choice to squat.In becoming squatters, people begin to changethe nature of their relationships with oneanother. They take some steps out of their oldclass position not merely into another buttowards a classless society. And in becomingsquatters people also change the nature of theirrelationship with the physical environment. Theurban pioneers, opening up houses in the desertspaces left by the existing culture are workingtowards a new technological independence. Theybegin to make a new culture.The characteristics of this new culture aredemonstrated in the way people relate to eachother, to the physical environment and to existingsociety. In this chapter I am trying to show how Ihave experienced these characteristics as asquatter in St Agnes Place, Lambeth.Anna KolpySt Agnes PlaceIt would be hard to think of a more compellingroad to involvement than defending one’s dwellingplace against wasteful destruction in the face ofa desperate need for housing! My committmentto the street’s struggle (pp 82-85), and my lovefor the people I lived with grew each time ahouse was wrecked and each time we worked outways to try to prevent it. The external threatsand our resistance to them certainly brought ustogether. Yet, in another way, they were aninterference with the actual life of the street.To start with, people live communally, ratherthan as isolated individuals or family units. I livein a house with five other people. We buy food,Nick WatesStreet breakfast, Jubilee Day, 1977we use the world together?’ This is what thesharing of property is about, jointly owning whatis available. It is also what the sharing of poweris about, jointly managing what is jointly owned.It changes the meaning of both ownership andmanagement.The street meeting has been particularly interesting.It has met regularly every week for threeyears. It is open to everyone. On one or two occasionswhen greater than average stress causedheightened emotions at large meetings, we decidedto have a chairperson. But most meetings have nochairperson, yet we get through the business withanything from 12 to 60 people present. We do nothave a permanent ‘secretary’. Yet someone at themeeting takes responsibility for minutes and theyAnna Kolpynearly always get written, duplicated and distributedto every house. We do not have a treasurer,but money is regularly collected by each house fora central fund and we have a bank account. Thefund is for house repairs and its allocation isdecided on by the meeting. (In May 1978, the ‘rent’was £1 per person per week or 50p for claimants.)There are task groups for particular jobs butno permanent central committee. So the streetmeeting itself has ‘management’ authority for alldecisions. It is thus a true assembly: every personwho lives in the street has a voice and joint responsibilityfor what happens. Sometimes peoplebring difficulties and disputes within houses to thestreet meeting to help resolve them as a kind ofDancing in the street186187

court of appeal.For several weeks, one area of dispute was to dowith that old chestnut, the tension between organisationand spontaneity. Some people wanted to laydown that the street meeting had certain definitepowers – such as deciding which people movedinto the street, for example. They were scaredthat chaos might arise if every house or evenevery individual simply made their own decisions.Others insisted that the street meeting neithershould, nor could, have any actual power. Theywere scared of the authoritarian bureaucracythat could arise if we gave too much power to themeeting. There was a great deal of argument anddiscussion and it helped understanding whenpeople saw the issue in terms of their fears ofboth bureaucracy and chaos and accepted thatwe needed both organisation and spontaneity.There has never been any articulatedresolution, nor any formal powers worked out forthe street meeting. But somehow it does exertpressure: most people do, on the whole, pay their‘rent’; newcomers have been dissuaded fromoccupying empty houses already designated foruse; disapproval of ‘anti-social’ behaviour has gothome and reconciliations have somehowresulted. It has been a very ad hoc, pragmaticform of organisation without authority.St Agnes Place has always been towards theanarchist end of the political spectrum, with aclimate of tolerance. Even at the time of wreckingsand confrontations, when we desperately neededthe presence of as many people as possible, noone was censured when they did not turn out.There seemed to be a conscious effort to alloweach person to make his or her own decision.In practice, crucial ‘decisions’ were made notat meetings but actually on the spot by weight ofspontaneous opinion. An example is theoccupation of No 85 on the day when the tenantmoved out and the Council wreckers moved in.The tenancy was in the lower half of the house,the upper half being empty. So, technically, wecould have squatted the upper half if we couldhave got in. But the tenant was a crotchety oldlady who was paranoid (understandably, consideringthe turmoil she had suffered in that blightedstreet) about both the Council and the squattersand she would not allow us through her flat. Wealso knew the wreckers would really go to townon this house. In the last one, they had sawnthrough joists and broken through the roof, as wellas tearing out the services. The previous wreckinghad been a half-hearted job; squatters had movedin within a week and had quickly repaired muchof the damage. So the score stood at ‘one all’.The question of how and when to move into thetop half of No 85 was crucial. Various plans weresuggested at street meetings including ideaswhich needed preparation before the day. Adecision was even taken to carry some of them outbut not implemented. On the day itself, a crowdof us gathered in the house next door facing thedilemma: move in too early and the police wouldkick us out; move in too late and the wreckerswould be in possession. In the event, we choseexactly the right moment. Until that moment,nobody could have said what would happen. Thearrival of police was ignored as was that of theCouncil’s Construction (sic) Department van (thewreckers team!). The moment came – somethingto do with the approach of the Council officialwho would let in the wreckers – when suddenlythere was no doubt and everyone surgedforward. Downstairs, the wreckers destroyedservices, ripped out floors, smashed windows andframes, and even removed the stairs up to thelanding window but no further because thepolice fortunately conceded that legally we hadto have access! We saved the top flat and, mostimportant, the roof. The whole house wasrepaired by squatters and is lived in again.This decision-making process was an eyeopenerto me. I had always believed in makingjoint decisions and being committed to them.This was another process – joint decision-makingin action.There has always been a conscious effort not tohave ‘key people’ or fixed roles. People do a taskfor a time while their energy for it lasts and thenanother takes over. It means that things do notalways get done. But on the whole the importantthings are done, and with more pleasure and lesssense of burden than usual.Fixed and traditional sex roles too are changed,sometimes just naturally, sometimes with consciousthought through women’s and men’s groups.Women can be seen repairing bicycles and cars,mending roofs and window panes. Men can beseen giving children baths and hanging outwashing. Women and men together write postersand negotiate with councillors. It is taken forgranted that cooking and housework are shared.There are other things I have learned duringmy time in St Agnes Place. One of them is how totolerate dirt and disorder, and things being out ofplace or unfinished. Keeping things ‘neat and tidy’is one of the props of the existing culture. It is astandard description of ‘well-behaved’ patients inmental hospitals. We just have to get it out of oursystem – and out of the system. There are thedifficulties of sharing too, like not having one’stools returned and learning how to return toolsand to be tidy when it is important: doing thingsbecause people want to or because they are needed,rather than because there are rules to follow.When, and by whom, the washing up gets done isno triviality but a symbol of freedom and organisation.Learning both what we, and other people,need; facing one’s fear in a confrontation with theCouncil or the police; getting on with it when youwant to do something and finding out for yourselfwhat can be done, practically or in terms of otherpeople’s sensitivities (the true meaning of selfhelp);accepting other people’s differences, andhaving your own accepted, dealing with someone’sfreak-out or your own: all these are a part ofliving in a community like St Agnes Place.This ‘therapeutic’ aspect of squatting isinseparable from the growth of new ownership ordecision-making structures. It is an integral partof the healing process of escaping the old cultureand the formative process of building a new one.The Physical EnvironmentThe attitude of squatters to the physicalenvironment expresses itself most strongly in theway houses are used and repairs undertaken.First, practical tasks are carried out as far aspossible by squatters themselves. People learnhow to do their own wiring, plumbing, glazingand guttering. Expertise is not rejected butdemystified and no longer used as an instrumentof control and bureaucracy. And second, existingmaterials are employed wherever possible. Themyth that it is quicker, simpler, safer, economicaland more efficient to scrap and replace the oldwith the new is challenged.The power of the ‘expert’ and the drive to usenew products are connected as both are manifestationsof our existing culture. The squatter’srelationship with the physical environment is notjust to do with mending one’s own living space butis a central part of the urban pioneer’s confrontationwith the existing culture. For instance, inour street, two houses were so badly gutted bythe Council to prevent squatting that theDistrict Surveyor put ‘dangerous structure’notices on them. Most of the joists had been cutout and the walls were therefore in danger ofcollapse. The Council had been ordered to putscaffolding around the houses to support them.At this time the Council’s decision on whether ornot to keep the street standing depended onHousing Corporation grants for rehabilitationand for a time these were withheld on theground that it would be too expensive.It was in this context that we decided to repairthe two gutted houses. They were not among thehouses even considered for rehabilitation by theCouncil as they were so badly damaged. Oneobjective was to demonstrate how much can bedone for very little financial outlay. The total costwas £900 compared with the Council’s estimatesof £3,500–£5,000, although of course we had nolabour costs.Once we start to look closely at the squatter’srelationship with the physical environment, weperceive more and more how this connects withthe way the new culture relates to outside society.In other words, we have to talk about politics.Lambeth Self-HelpThere is the politics of personal relationships, ofthe use of possessions, of the way meetings areconducted, decisions made and actions planned;there is too, the politics of doing your own practicalwork, of learning skills, using old materialsand mending buildings. But it is in its relationshipto conventional society that the characteristics ofthe new culture become most clearly political.In July 1977, the Council agreed to hand overa number of houses in the street to Lambeth Self-Help Housing Association for short-term use. Buta number of obstacles came up such as the questionof allocation. The Council was pushing forcontrol over the allocation of all places even whenindividual rooms became empty in communalhouses. There was also the question of the statusof St Agnes Place. The Council attempted torefuse to deal directly with us as a collective andto go through Lambeth Self-Help. Under the termsof the rehabilitation proposal we were all tobecome members of Lambeth Self-Help HousingAssociation. On the other hand, we were alreadya community and Lambeth Self-Help did not wantto interfere with our autonomy.Lambeth Self-Help is worth describing in detail.It started in 1971 as a family squatting groupand later was given short-life licences on houseswhich it renovated. In 1977 it was housing 250adults (mostly families) in 110 houses belongingto Lambeth Council and the GLC. All the peoplein its houses are members who are jointlyresponsible for running the Association.Members paid £1 per week per single person or£4 per week for families which is used to repairother houses and run the organisation. This wasits only source of revenue until 1975 when it wasgiven an annual grant from the Council and‘mini-HAG’ grants from central government forthe rehabilitation of short-life properties.The allocation of houses by Lambeth Self-Help is fairly remarkable. Every Wednesdaynight there is a meeting for people who haveapplied for housing. It is their own meeting andthey decide who will get the next tenancy. Apartfrom the applicants, it will be attended only byone or two existing members and a paid officer ofLambeth Self-Help to provide information.Everybody has to explain their needs and listento those of other people. They also visit eachother’s existing accommodation. Since people arelikely to have been attending for a long timebefore they get their own house, there will be amutual understanding of problems and asensible judgement can be made. It is a trulydemocratic process. It means that neither theCouncil, to its chagrin, nor Lambeth Self-Helpcan make direct nominations. The decision ismade by the people who are most affected.The Council does, in fact, indirectly influenceallocation since 75 per cent of people’who contactLambeth Self-Help are sent by its Housing AdviceCentre and its Social Services Department. But itis the Lambeth Self-Help ‘New Members Meeting’that allocates places. It is easy to see that such ademocratic organisation is threatening to thehierarchical controlling set-up that prevails inour society; and that the education in collectivitywhich it provides is an example to uphold.The outpost in the existing cultureThis issue of control comes into every reaction ofsociety to the new culture. It is the same withthe efforts to negate the collective organism of StAgnes Place. The Council has tried to avoid givingthe rehabilitation of our houses to Lambeth Self-Help, in the belief that another association wouldbe more authoritarian and easier for it to dealwith. Attempts by Council officials, police, andjournalists, to deal with ‘leaders’ has become awell-known joke in St Agnes.‘Who is your leader?’ they say.And we say ‘We are all leaders’, ‘We don’t haveleaders’ or ‘Talk to us all’.When we carefully designate ‘spokespeople’,they are immediately considered leaders.The concept of a non-hierarchical group is athreat to the established culture’s structure ofcontrol. That is why outposts of the new culturecannot be tolerated. Planning and healthregulations and allocation systems are allstructures of control. The idea that people canactually control themselves seems to be quiteterrifying. Any real encroachment on the systemof private property, or the control that needs tobe wielded to maintain it, is gradually squashed.The whittling away of ‘squatters’ rights’ by thecourts and the enactment of the Criminal LawAct (Chapter 14) are both parts of this process.How do squatting, the new culture and thereaction to it fit into a formal analysis which helpsus to understand our existing culture as a systemand to change it? Squatting is not, after all, at thetraditional point of primary struggle, ie production.So squatters are a sort of second-class revolutionary.Many squatters are in any case suspicious ofhardline revolutionary positions, finding themdifficult to apply to their own experience.According to traditional Marxist orthodoxy, itis the working-class who will change things andit is politically ‘correct’ to relate everything to theworking-class. People tend to be self-conscious andeven somewhat shameful of what may be relatedto the middle-class. Yet when one looks at a smallchanged society such as St Agnes Place this doesnot seem to be quite right as it is a largely ‘middleclass’squat in two ways. First, two-thirds of thepeople there come from middle-class backgroundsor work at middle-class occupations. Second, onepart of the campaign by the street in its strugglewith the Council is a middle-class campaign. Thus,we have used contacts with the liberal press whichhas focused on the planning and conservationaspects of the issue that are those most likely toappeal to a middle-class readership; and we havemade use of the law in the form of an injunctionrestraining the Council from demolishing the188189

Mike WiggKlaus KaldeTony SleepCaroline LwinSquatter community life.Left: Covent Garden and Bloomsbury Squatters tug of war team,1979.Bottom Left: Street party in Longfellow Road, East London, 1977.Below: Communal breakfast at 7.30 am, Freston Road, 1977.Bottom: Bonfire night party in Drummond Street, Camden, 1974.Right: Children’s events, Villa Road, 1979.Below right: Picnic in the communal garden, Freston Road, 1978.Bottom right: Benefit concert for a woman who lost her baby andneeded a holiday, Freston Road, West London, 1976.Dave WalkingTony SleepTony Sleephouses in the street.This does not mean that St Agnes Place has nopolitical value. The definition of ‘middle class’ isdifficult. To speak about a middle-class backgroundis complex enough but when we refer to middleclassjobs or a middle-class campaign, there is animportant distinction to make: we have not beenfurthering middle-class interests but we havemade use of our middle-class skills.A parallel distinction can be made for workingclassskills – between using them in a situationwhere they are making a profit for a privilegedowner and where people own what they produce.I now know how to put new sash-cords in awindow; I shall never again have to pay someoneto do it for me. One day I asked someone in thestreet ‘Have you seen the agenda?’; she replied‘What is an agenda?’; I explained and she cannow be that much less powerless at meetings.What I think is happening in St Agnes Place isthat both middle-class and working-class peopleare moving out of the class positions determinedby the existing culture. In their changed relationshipswith each other and with the physicalenvironment, they have formed a small classlesssociety or at least the outpost of one. This is closeto the impulse that inspired the libertarian leftof the ‘sixties, to the political analysis of BigFlame and to the concept of struggle on a‘reproductive’ as well as a productive front.Squatting has a number of strengths as a forcefor change towards a new culture. First, it combinesa point of action – finding a house – with acontinuing process of living. Second, it bringstogether middle-class and working-class responsesto aspects of the existing society which havebecome intolerable. Third, although it is not astruggle in a place of production, it is right in themiddle of a reproductive struggle: a struggle withthe existing culture’s way of reproducing theright sort of people for feeding into the existingproductive system. (The new culture needs tobecome independent in production as squatterssupport the existing consumer society too muchby scavenging on it). And finally, it is a placewhere traditional working-class and middle-classskills can join to complement each other.What the new culture is about is not so muchfighting the system as building something new,showing it can work and saying ‘Come and joinus’. Squatters are pioneers in the city who canshow what is possible and how good it is.•Adam HarveyDave WalkingNegative aspects of squatter communities.Above: A theif makes his getaway from a squat aftersexually assaulting a woman and stealing her purse,Freston Road 1979.Below: Trying to cope with people who abuse the relaxedatmosphere of squatting – Trinity Road, Wandsworth,1978 (left), Villa Road, Lambeth, 1979 (right).Tony Sleep190 191

The squatters estate agencyThe Ruff Tuff Creem Puff Estate Agency wasfounded in 1974 by ‘Mad Dog, Fluke and Flame’,Gods’ Groupies, stimulated by their squatting ofthe ‘Meat Roxy’, a former Bingo Hall inLancaster Road, North Kensington, where everySaturday three or four hundred people gatheredfor a free ball. Electricity was re-routed from asquatted house at the back, a large double bedput in the middle of the auditorium for people toaccompany the music in their lubricious fashion,and above the stage in letters four feet highthere was written: CIVILISATION HATHTURNED HER BACK ON THEE. REJOICE,SHE HATH AN UGLY FACE.At the end of the day, half the people seducedinto coming had nowhere to go. It being winter,and our social consciences being intricately plucked,the Meat Roxy was established as a place tolive as well, but gradually, perhaps through theloudness of the music, the roof fell in. Otheraccommodation had to be found for these errantspace gipsies, Tuinal freaks, lushes and werewolvesclamouring for shelter from the wind andthe rain and the cold in the Ladbroke Archipelago.A set of house-breaking equipment was purchased,and a small survey of the neighbourhoodcarried out. Empty properties sprang up likemushrooms and were cropped. The first bulletinby Heathcote WilliamsThe inside story of Ruff Tuff Creem Puff, the only estate agency for squattersadvertising their availability was Gestetneredand published in an almost unreadable edition of150 copies, and the Ruff Tuff Creem Puff EstateAgency (named after a Robert Crumb cartooncharacter) was registered as a working charity(Astral registration number 666).Since then 23 bulletins have been published,ranging from one foolscap side to eight, andlisting empty properties available in England,Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Holland, Italy andYugoslavia.’ A nucleus of seven or so peopleworked under the umbrella of the agency:whoever lived in our house became involved. Thehouse was often watched and the possibility ofprosecution for incitement or conspiracy totrespass frequently lurked on the back-burner.Office hours were round the clock.People were sent to us from almost anywhere:social services departments, highly fundedpressure groups such as Shelter or the Campaignfor the Homeless and Rootless, occasionallyHarrow Road Police Station, and BIT, the hipVatican and self-help centre down the road. It wasa house rule that anyone could stay for a nightin the house until we found them somewherepermanent. On average, 15 to 20 people cameround looking for somewhere to live each day.We opened up places for people but oftenfound that many of them regarded us as the landlord.They would come back half a dozen timescomplaining about roofs, drains and windows andChapter18it was a long time before it occurred to them thatthey could do anything about the place themselves.Fluke often fell back sardonically in thesecircumstances on the ancient Arab saying: ‘If yourescue a man from drowning, you have to lookafter him for the rest of your life.’ In most cases wetold people where the house was, what its historywas as far as we knew, explained the score in lawand lent them any available equipment.The surface problem was homelessness, and inmany cases when that was solved everything wascool. We’d see the person we’d fixed up and findthat their days were glowing again,and they wouldpromise to keep us fed with any empty places thatthey had noticed. But in many other cases homelessnesshad created far worse problems. Peoplewho had no house built houses inside their heads;people who’d been chronically rejected over a longperiod lived in a shell and sat in the office withoutbeing able to speak. Getting fixed up with a placegot transmuted into getting a fix. Being warmhad changed into a whiskey-sodden rush.One man sat in the dilapidated chair in thecorner of the kitchen-cum-office for two dayswithout saying a word and then suddenly leaptup and stuck a knife into Fluke.The knifefortunately was fairly blunt and came out withoutany brown rice on the end. Gently asked for someexplanation, it transpired that he’d had nowhereto live for two years save a mausoleum inHighgate Cemetery. The spirits had apparentlycommanded this act: ‘Fluke is a good man beingbad but I caught him when he was a bad manbeing good.’ And then there followed anindecipherable word salad based on hisconnections with the spirit world. It made us feelthat handing out houses to people for nothingwas all right but that it often wasn’t enough.Another man, who’d just come out ofParkhurst where he’d been serving nine years forarmed robbery involving £30,000 worth ofplatinum, crashed through the door in a feverishstate and said: ‘You’re social workers, aren’t you?’in an almost accusing manner.The accusation was denied.‘Hang on, hang on, look how ‘bout I get a weebottle of something. What you drink? Wine? I’llget some.’He reappeared with six bottles of Mateus anda two foot square box of chocolates ‘fur thekiddie’. He said: ‘You wondering why I’m doingall this aren’t you? Well, I’ll tell you. I need yourhelp. You have drugs here don’t you? You peoplehave drugs?’‘Only the look in our eyes, that’s all.’‘No, seriously, you have drugs here? You’rehippies aren’t you? Hippies always have drugs.I’ll pay you for it . . .’Not to let the chance of a deal go begging,Cocke Lorrell who’d just done a run of threeweights, pulled out his scales and said: ‘Howmuch do you want?’ fondling a large polythenebag filled with the stinking soul-smoke.‘What’s that?’‘Best Buddha Grass.’He was mystified. The theft of those nineyears of his life had meant that he’d missedWeed Power.‘Dope,’ said Cocke Lorrell, ‘it’s grass. Dope forever, for ever loaded.’‘Oh, no. I don’t want that. I want somecyanide.’There was a deathly hush. It transpired that hecouldn’t stand being outside. He just didn’t knowwhere to put himself. He tried to ‘buy a fewfriends’, as he put it, but ‘no one wants to know’.He went on raving about the cyanide,convinced that if the coast was cleared with alarge backhander we’d supply it: ‘I’ll pay you forit. I’ll make it worth your while, believe me,’ andhe spilt a wad of £20 notes onto the table.Cocke took him to the window (which was onthe third floor) and said: ‘Look you can have thiswindow cheap.’‘What you mean?’‘You can throw yourself out of this window for10p’ and gave him a giant cuddle. His face beganto crease into a smile.Cocke hugged him so hard and rubbed him andinsulted him:‘Your life’s not yours to take,dummy’,and then settled him down to his wine, told himthe cream of his police jokes and then got him sostoned that he was wandering around the houseall night in his knickers reciting Gaelic sagas.His life was a little safer than before.One visitor called Julia came looking for aplace to live, scanned the bulletins along with alarge map of London that had colour-coded pinsstuck into it:• Red: ‘Squatted, but might be room’• Green: ‘Ripe for plucking’• Blue: ‘Empty but needs a lot of love’Julia said: ‘I think I’ll try Freston Road it’snear where I work.’‘Where is that?’ said Fluke, passing the timeof day.‘Oh, Hammersmith Town Hall in the HousingDepartment.’Fluke looked slightly stunned: ‘How wouldyour colleagues feel about your squatting?’‘Oh, I don’t think they’d mind. Except for theones who’re members of the National Front.’And despite the existence of five members ofthe National Front working in the Housing Departmentof a soi-disant socialist council, Julia wasable to half-inch lists of empty properties fromthe council files. She became the Mata Hari ofRuff Tuff, forcing the size of the bulletins upfrom four pages to eight. Other useful informantsincluded a telephone engineer, a postman and aGas Board official.Freston Road in fact, became almost entirelysquatted through Ruff Tuff activity and wasturned into an almost ideal version of Squat City,much beloved of gutter cartoonists (pp 91-4).The walled-in gardens were joined togetherinto one large communal garden which almostfed the entire street. A squatted shop opened,selling wholefoods at knock-down prices, andthere was a kind of synergy present wherepeople bopped in and out of each other’s houses,doors left open to the street. If any problemarose, the load was immediately spread around.On rare and extreme occasions the CosmicJoker evicts the Social Worker in the tactics ofthe Agency. A German once entered the office,dressed in a gold lame suit, and followed by hisfamily all in fresh sheepskins from Afghanistan,lavishly embroidered: ‘I would like please a placewith bath, and garden for the kinder, and mittelefon. I am from Endless Music. We are biggestRock and Roll band in Germany and we havemany contracts with Island Records. You give aplace to us now bitte?’Mad Dog stood up and surveyed the littlescene. ‘Well,’ he said, pretending to consult thelatest bulletin, ‘Yeah, I think we got just theplace.’‘Ja? gut, gut.’‘Yeah, you take the tube to Green Park. Turnright out of the entrance.’‘Ja, ja.’‘And you’ll find a huge building on the righthand side. We’ll let them know you’re coming.’‘How will I find it again please?’ (scribblinggreedily).‘It’s right on Piccadilly, near St James’ Street.It’s just been squatted. There’s a man from RuffTuff on the door, dressed in a huge black frockcoat, with gold braid, just like your suit, and for192193Mathew Freeth

a joke he’s got a badge on his cap with the words“Ritz Hotel”. Just tell him you’ve come from theRuff Tuff Creem Puff Estate Agency and yourrooms will be waiting for you.’Through the good auspices of Patrick the postman,a partner in the agency, six houses werefound and cracked for Chiswick Women’s Aid whoseemed to need a house per week. One windynight Tony from Rough Theatre bopped in with avan, scored Gareth, Mary Jane, Mad Dog, andJonathan Marconi, and they all tooled off to Richmondwhere Tony claimed there was a derelicthotel once used by the BBC in the thirties andforties to transmit the tea-time concerts of MaxJaffa and the Palm Court Orchestra.They found a strange haunted place by theriver, strongly barricaded with two-by-four joistsnailed down to the floor inside. It took about twohours to crack as they had to wait for trafficnoise to cover each snap of the jemmy. The PalmCourt Hotel had been a giant pigeon loft forthree years and was recycled as a little palace for30 battered wives and their offspring.The bulletins listed anything from a hovel to apalace and had a style of their own: ‘36 St Luke’sRoad. Empty two years. Entry through rear. Noroof. Suit astronomer.’ Some houses in Norfolkbelonging to the Royal Family were squattedafter featuring in the bulletins, Mick Jagger’sunused country house found some occupants, andthe Cambodian Embassy was squatted whenabandoned after the overthrow of the Buddhistoligarchy of Prince Sihanouk. Two Mercedes carswere found in the garage of this weird housecum-templeand the only way that the squatterscould be evicted was if the Khmer Rouge haddecided to move into the London PropertyMarket. They were still in occupation at thebeginning of 1980. Buckingham Palace with its614 rooms often featured.All the time while bulletins were being pumpedout and houses being cracked, the gutter presskept up a shrill and hate-filled descant. Squattersare vermin, proclaimed the Daily Express. Theyhave lice, shrilled the Evening News which employeda spy to insinuate himself with squattersand obtain free board and lodging only to trashthem later in his paper for an enormous fee. Thesquatters are an ‘Army of Vagabonds led by dangerousleft-wing agitators’, squawked the SundayPeople; and it ran a three-part series on squatting,leaving the gentle reader with the impression thatthey were all armed, dope-infested layaboutswho should be garrotted.One of the partners in Ruff Tuff was fried bythe Sunday People on their front page: ‘ The oldEtonian house grabber: he jemmies way in forsquatters,’ presenting him as a near psychopathwho would prefer to crack his way through ablock of houses on his way to the shops ratherthan walk round the corner. The reporter hadsubtly gained an interview in the Ruff Tuff officeby pretending to be from Cardiff Friends of theEarth who were, he claimed, doing a survey onsquatting. He was duly given an extensiverundown on the homelessness situation inLondon – 100,000 houses empty, 30,000 peoplesquatting, etc – together with a brief but poeticsoliloquy about Wat Tyler, Gerrard Winstanley(‘The world is a common treasure house to all . . .there is no my thing, no your thing’), andProudhon; all little gurus of this yippie cabal.Mad Dog saw the paper the next week andwhile everyone else was having apoplexy, muttered‘Revenge is a meal best eaten cold’. Four weekslater the reporter found that as a result of hisown house being put on the bulletins and describedtherein as the Sunday People Rest Home(‘anyone on a bad trip, tuinal freaks etc,especially welcome’), he was daily invaded bylone dementoes of every description. The realCardiff Friends of the Earth delivered a lorryload of cement to his front garden cash-ondeliveryand he was forced to change hisaccommodation. Whether he had to squat or notwas never revealed. ‘Teach the bitch to tamperwith Aristocrats Lib,’ was Mad Dog’s comment.The cosy liberal papers stayed fairly silent. TheGuardian published a couple of moody picturesof a child in front of a corrugated iron fence. TheTimes reporter at the battle of Elgin Avenuedisclosed that he’d been unable to file any of hisstories about squatting for the last two weeks. ‘It’seditorial policy,’ he told us. At the same time, TheTimes was quite gaily publishing some extraordinaryletters in its correspondence columns,one of which suggested that all squatters shouldbe evicted from third-storey windows (see p 59).On another occasion the stencils for a newbulletin were hanging from a bulldog clip on thewall for all to survey the new mass of availablehouses before they went on to BIT’S Gestetner. Aman came in claiming to be homeless and wasleft to study the stencils while people in the officewent about their business in the next room.When they came back, he’d disappeared with thestencils which he sold to the Evening Standard.The Evening Standard tried to confirm thestory on the phone the next day but got veryshort shrift from Fluke since it was then that weknew where the stencils had gone – stencilswhich represented seven people’s carefulresearch for about three weeks.‘This is the Evening Standard. I have to tellyou that Bulletin 17 has come into our hands. Ican’t tell you how but we have a photo-copy of itand we think that it contains a great deal ofhighly contentious material . . .’‘Do you now? Well, listen, baby blue, if you’rehomeless I’ll speak to you, if you’re not you canrot off . . .’‘Before you put the phone down, I should tellyou that we’re going to publish this material.’‘Great! The wider circulation it gets, thebetter. Join the Legion of Joy. Freedom is a fulltimecareer.’‘Well, you can put it like that if you like. Butcan I ask you this . . er . . I’m looking through itnow. You recommend a certain kind of implementfor breaking into houses with mortise locks on . . .I think it’s a bolster, or a raker, yes, here it is, afour-inch raker. What do you have to say aboutthat?’‘Listen, there are about 10,000 people sleepingrough in London, in all weathers, and a lot ofthem are kitty-corner to you, Fat Cat, right on theThames Embankment. That’s what I have to sayabout that. You think every house was opened upby the wind? People need to know how to do it.They’re not ghosts. They can’t walk through walls.Goodbye. Sleep well in your Beaverbrook Bed.’Next day the Evening Standard appearedwith a front-page headline large enough tobruise your retina: ‘SECRET SQUATTERSPLAN FOR A MASS TAKE-OVER IN LONDON’.The bulletin mysteriously returned later thatnight, rolled up in the front door handle andstained with whiskey. Conspiracy to trespass wasmentioned in the article and the prospect of itbegan to cause some consternation.‘Conspiracy to trespass . . . We could all getfive years . . .’‘Ah fuck it, what you keep muttering that for ...Conspiracy to trespass, it’s just some legalshibboleth. To conspire, you know what thatmeans? “To breathe together”. Con-spirare . . . Idon’t mind doing that, do you? And trespass, youknow what the origin of that word is? To “passthrough, to transcend”. That’s the dictionarymeaning. Straight up.’‘They won’t pay much attention to that incourt. I think discretion is the better part ofvalour.’‘Sure.’ The doorbell rings.‘There’s someone at the door. Life goes on.’Two slinky and silky gentlemen file in, onekvetching about his landlady having stolen hismattress because it had ‘perverted liquids on it’,vetting his phone calls and opening his mail, allfor the princely sum of £52 per month. He looksthrough the new list, glancing at the antics ofWindsor the black tom from time to timecommenting ‘Isn’t she butch?’, and then drapesour jemmy elegantly over his arm to go crack arecommended flat in nearby Powis Square.A silent woman with a large scar on her headasks about some houses in Orsett Terrace, Paddington.She’s escaping the violent vagaries ofher husband by staying with a friend in a councilflat where she has to creep in and out because thecouple on the ground floor suspect her friend ofsub-letting and are in constant contact with thecouncil’s Complaints Department. She’s neversquatted before. She works as a night cleanerand seems desperate. ‘Can you fix me up in thatstreet?’ she asks. ‘They got lights in the windowat night. They seem nice people.’ She’s fixed upwith an introduction and a little later, her ownplace.A junkie seeps in: ‘I don’t want any placewhere the postal district is an odd number. Idon’t want N19 or Wl for a start.’‘Paddington? W2?’‘No. God’s told me Paddington’s bad for me.’After similar objections to almost every place onthe lists he starts metronomically rubbing thetrack-marks on his left arm. ‘Why are you doingthat?’ says Cocke Lorrell.‘God has told me that my left arm is bad forme so I got to keep stabbing it ... with stuff.’He stays for several hours, alternatelybrutalising and then nursing his diabolicacupuncture points until he coincides withsomeone who’s just had a cure. He is enveigledaway to Cold Turkey Towers in Cornwall Terrace,having been convinced that NW1 is not really anodd number and that anyway, ‘When you getreally high on mathematics you realise thatthere’s no such thing as one’; and for the firsttime, this gutter St Sebastian smiles.A family phone up. They’re paying £42 perweek for bed and breakfast in St Albans. Mad Dogscreams at them:‘In St Albans? Forty-two pounds?pounds? Where the fuck is St Albans anyway? . ..Just south of Greenland ain’t it? Well put onyour snow shoes and get your asses down heretoute vite.’ And then they come a few hours later,bedraggled and burnt out from rent slavery andscore themselves a whole house in Richmond.Letters also pour in demanding the bulletins:‘Dear Sir, Madam, Hippy or Freak. I amdoing important mind work and need a quietplace . . .’‘Dear Rough Tough Creamers, please sendbulletins of everywhere in the world, we are tiredof somewhere . . .’‘Dear Agency, I am living in a furnishedroom with my two children and paying £10 aweek.Please can you help me? Please answer soon.’There have also been death threats on thephone. One was just a tape-loop endlessly repeating:‘Hello, hello, hello. You’re a dead man. Don’tlaugh.’ Well, to quote the Illuminatus, ‘If it doesn’tmake you laugh, it isn’t true.’ It didn’t make uslaugh and fortunately it wasn’t. But who was it?Enraged property speculator? A hit-man hired byMegalopolis? The National Grunt? Ah well,forget it, paranoia is the gout of acid-anointedyouth.Sometimes it has been very boring, sometimesvery exciting. People would say: ‘How can youafford to do it? Is there any charge for thesebulletins?’ Nope. It’s time for the Gospel of Freeto lurch back to life. It’s time the visionaries gotit on and the realists dreamt. All we want is aGarden of Eden where none of the fruit isforbidden. Communism never started – it’sprivate property that was the new idea.In most cases we thought about as much ofsquatting a house as picking up a butt-end offthe street. Why? Because, to wax philosophic fora moment, we live in square rooms and we’retreated as products instead of Beings, in rowsand rows of square rooms where we’re all meantto be the same. In streets where there are 30,000gas stoves, 30,000 TV sets, 30,000 baths, fridgesand cars, when with a little co-operation (whichKropotkin showed in Mutual Aid was thestrongest force in nature), maybe one or two ofeach would be enough.Some squats have broken through – FrestonRoad, Bristol Gardens and Cornwall Terrace –with walls knocked down so that you could walkalong the street inside the building. Imagine ahuge refectory table on the ground floor of everystreet, and a huge refectory bed on the top floor.Whether you’re a yipped-up hipped-upcommunalist or no, the reduction in fire hazardis strong in its favour.Jesus was born a squatter though the ChurchCommissioners (one of London’s largest slumowners and property speculators) would neveracknowledge it. When squatters are presented asinhuman, someone’s trying to feed into the tapes:‘You don’t exist. You don’t own anything, so whoare you? How can we recognise you?’When people are evicted someone is playingGod and saying that their life in that place isworthless. When we were being evicted from oneRuff Tuff house we said to the landlord: ‘Youwant your house back? Then come here and livewith us.’Squatting is acupuncture for the deathculture. Freedom is not yet quite free but thesquatting community can give you a goodwholesale price.•196197

From skippering to squattingSquatting as an alternative to hostels and lodging housesby Celia BrownChapter19‘Dear Sir/Madam,We write to you as a group of men who use the Kingsway Day Centre and who have been discussing our circumstances. We want our voice to beheard.Those of us who use Bruce House are disgusted at the conditions there. The toilets are not fit for human use, and nobody bothers to clear the pigeonmess from the tables where we eat. A lot of the problems of hostels are caused because, they are hostels. Why do we have to live in hostels, year-in year-outwith our social security benefits geared to hostel rates? These hostels were intended for emergencies but are full of ‘regulars’ who book in week after week.But they are not designed for regular lodging, and we keep out others with emergency needs. What you have done is to turn us into hostel dwellers andforced us to adopt a way of life you disapprove of.What we need is decent accommodation suitable for single persons to live in, with some independence and self-respect. Some of the Day Centre peoplehave recently become tenants in a short-life house. The property has not been turned into a slum, nor wrecked, nor burnt down. But because of our presentcircumstances, people do not want us as neighbours, and do not want to give us lodgings. There are very few bed-sitters going, and landlords demandsomething like £60 deposit and £40 rent in advance. We do not have that kind of money, and even if we had we should still find it hard to get anywhere.’(Letter to Westminster Council, 1976)‘I call in at the labour Exchange and see if there’s any jobs going but there isn’t and it’s been like this for months now, as the employment situation hasbeen very bad. This job finding has always been a sore point with me, as I can’t seem able to stick at a job, but not only that, when I get money in mypocket I go wild and start drinking heavily and landing up in trouble, at the same time as losing the job.On the other hand if I don’t work, I don’t drink and don’t miss it and I find myself doing things that I’ve always wanted to do, such as writing poetryshort articles, and painting, so what’s the answer, not only for me but for thousands like me? We don’t want to destroy other people’s lives, we want to live,and live decent like everyone else. We are all so fed up with filthy, lousy doss-houses and spikes that are destroying decent men and women. Not only haveyou got to be drunk or drugged to live in these places, you also have to lose your pride and dignity, because one isn’t a man any more, or if he tries to beit’s impossible.’ (From a short story by Eddie Brinley)Hostels for the homelessHostels for single homeless people are provided by both commercial and charitable organisations. The term applies to night shelters, common lodginghouses, boarding houses, hotels, rehabilitation projects, community houses and so on.A survey Hostels and Lodgings for Single People (HMSO 1976) found 31,253 beds in hostels and lodgings for single people which it covered, 2,872 ofwhich were in dormitories for 20 or more people.Standards of accommodation using basic Government minimum standards applying to lavatories, wash basins and baths per bed were appalling. 78per cent of beds were in establishments below at least one of the basic standards, whilst 57 per cent were in establishments below all three basicstandards. Furthermore, 85 per cent of hostels were in buildings built before 1914.SkipperingThe use of empty property by homeless people hasa longer history and is more widespread than thepublic attention given to squatting in recent yearsmight suggest. Homelessness is not a new problemparticularly for older single people working forlow pay or unemployed. Lacking rights to publichousing, these people have traditionally beenforced into degrading conditions in lodginghouses or government reception centres (nowcalled resettlement units). They get labelled bysociety as ‘down and outs’, ‘dossers’, ‘tramps’ or‘derelicts’ and are accordingly discriminatedagainst.As a relief from hostel life many have gone‘skippering’; a term which embraces sleeping onpark benches, in railway stations, under hedges,or in empty buildings. Buildings are usually usedonly for a few days but some people may usethem for longer and talk of ‘having a skipper’.‘Having a skipper’ differs from ‘having asquat’ because of the attitudes people havetowards it. Legally there is no difference (exceptthat skipperers don’t usually change the lock andthus don’t claim possesion) but skipperers thinkthey’ve no rights to the property and will bethrown out or prosecuted if they are discovered.Therefore they live in secret, trying to keephidden from police and from neighbours whomight report their presence. Corrugated iron isleft over windows and a secret access may bedevised. One man, for instance, used to climb adrainpipe and enter by upper floor windows. 1 Inanother case a group tunnelled through theparty walls of a terrace of houses and lived inthe house furthest from the secret back windowentrance. This strategy contrasts with boldlychanging the lock and being ready to defend aright to occupy in the typical squat.Secrecy has many drawbacks. Services cannotbe connected officially so that if they are not alreadylaid on, people have to live without lightingor heating, and may resort to burning floorboardsfor warmth and cooking. Difficulty of accesscreates the risk of people being trapped when illas happened to one of the group in the terracementioned above.When he finally made it throughall the holes in the walls, an ambulanceman saidhe was just drunk and he died in the police station.Venturing outside demands physical exertion andrisks discovery. So if there is no toilet, people mayresort to using a room or corner, moving on whenconditions become unbearable. As a result ofthese difficulties, skippering is not approachedwith any great expectations. With no security oftenure, and no benefit to be gained from goodpublic relations, skipperers seldom bother to carefor houses and may cause damage with fires, andby taking copper or lead for sale.Lack of a proper home affects many otheraspects of life which the well-housed take forgranted. For example, people who spend mostnights in dormitories without safe storage cannotcarry around anything but a few clothes.Skipperers, therefore, tend to lack possessionsand this, coupled with poverty and insecurity,means that skippers are usually sparse and littleenergy is spent on maintaining them.People without a permanent home also lackthe practical and emotional support of a constantnetwork of relationships. Friends are frequentlyparted by hospitalisation, death or arrest (underthe vagrancy or drunkenness laws 2 ). Alone, andvulnerable to theft and mugging, they aresuspicious of others and may keep the location oftheir skipper secret, reducing potential solidaritystill further. Skippers can also become chaoticbecause of heavy drinking and mentaldisturbance, caused partly by society’s failure tohouse discharged mental patients 3 and partly bythe conditions they have experienced.Alternatives to skippering – charities orsquattingThe upsurge of squatting during the seventieswas paralleled by the growth of new-stylecharities for the single homeless offering‘community houses’. Yet many of the homelessstill prefer skippering.Many charities treat skipperers as‘inadequates’who require supervised therapeutic accommodation.Thecharities may also suggest that some aresubmerged in a deviant life ‘outside’ society fromwhich they must be enticed for their own good.Skippering is seen as evidence that skipperersare odd, rather than that the alternative offeredby charities is unsatisfactory. But if the charitiessaw their ‘clients’ as full human beings, theywould realise that many people prefer skippersfor the same reason that most people prefer theirhomes to institutions, and that the charities’community houses are still institutions. Thesepeople are seeking to control their home lives: tolive with people of their choice, and to be able todo what they want to, when they want to, in theprivacy which other people take for granted. Asone man put it: ‘The trouble with going into acharity hostel is that you pass from being yourown man to a kept man.’The talk of ‘inadequacy’ and ‘deviancy’encourages public belief that homelessness is thefault of its victims. Worse, in order to gainfinancial support, charity appeals refer to ‘downand-outs’,‘dossers’ or ‘vagrant alcoholics’ andshow pictures of dirty dishevelled old men andwomen begging, or sleeping amidst a debris ofbottles. These stereotypes pick on the mostunusual-looking homeless people and use thevisual effects of poverty and distress to makepeople seem strange and even frightening in anattempt to shock the public into giving money.The net effect of the charity ‘industry’ ishowever unintentionally, to perpetuate the idea ofalien and untouchable outcasts so continuing therejection of homeless single people which trapsthem in the homelessness scene. When living in‘community houses’, lodging houses (doss-houses)or skippers,the lack of a respectable address markspeople as ‘homeless’. Prospective employers andlandladies/lords turn them away. The state forcespeople into ‘doss houses’ through the policy ofSocial Security offices which give people withoutan address vouchers to hostels instead of rent. 4 Infact, many people do not claim social security becausethey are so badly treated at the special ‘NoFixedAbode’ offices.The state then threatens themwith the vagrancy laws and a criminal record.The charities have come to act as unreliableintermediaries between the homeless and thestate which ought to be providing them with basicrights. Stigmatised homeless people often have to1981976

Chris Schwarz/ CHARget the backing of a charity worker even to get admittedto hospital. So the ‘client’ and staff workerare trapped into presenting the ‘deserving’ homelessperson as someone who is inadequate or hasbeen converted from their ‘deviant lifestyle’. Forexample, funds are on occasion given for housingalcoholics, so ‘clients’ have to be presented as such.Resentment against the professional salariespaid to staff for their supervising role, and thedemoralising effect of powerlessness and of beingtreated as inferior, lead residents to be uncooperativeor to believe that they actually arepeculiar. This in turn reinforces the prejudices ofthe staff. Their power over the ‘client’ makes itvirtually impossible for truly equal anddignifying relationships to develop and makes amockery of the word ‘community’. 6Squatting as a solutionIn contrast, squatting has enabled many peopleto house themselves and to be in a position to puthousing demands on the authorities which cannotbe so easily ignored. Squatting harnesses people’senergy and resources and does not make themwait years begging for houses. Individuals arethen no longer trapped, because they can presentthemselves as normal to employers and others,since they have a postal address (unlike a skipper)which is not stigmatised (unlike a charity address).Whereas nearly all charities confine theirTrafalger Square rally by homeless people and hosteldwellers demanding proper housing instead of dirtyhostels, 1980.Mike Wells‘clients’ to ‘living with their own kind’ (as definedby others), squatting has enabled a range of peopleto live together who in normal circumstanceswould have shunned each other. This has helpednot only ‘dossers’ but also ex-prisoners, ‘junkies’ex-mental patients and people with disabilities.Squatting can give people practical proof oftheir own potential with which to counter the‘inadequacy’ labels of agencies. One man, for instance,who had squatted, and then helped othersto squat, was outraged when a charity workersuggested that ‘street level’ dossers would not beable to cope as tenants, unlike some ex-lodginghouse men who had successfully settled in hard-toletflats.The man explained that he did not like thehostel regime and had therefore got himself a goodsquat. This went against all the preconceptionsof the charity worker who preferred to pity himrather than admire his achievements.Not all poor single people who experience acrisis become homeless. The people most likely toget trapped in homelessness are those who haveno family or friends to fall back on; for example,people from institutions like childrens’ homes,prisons and mental hospitals. Others lose contactby working in jobs which require long periodsaway from home such as the army and merchantnavy. Squatting has often been remarkable inproviding informal friendly support for suchindividuals by bringing together people from manybackgrounds who share a housing need and asense of common purpose and identity. Peopleshare responsibility for their living accommodationand are dependent on each other. Varioustypes of social contact develop from practical andpolitical activities:contacts within houses,betweensquats and between squatting communities.People who live in lodging houses and skipperdo bear more than an average load of personalproblems, but their basic requirements in orderto be able to deal with them are secure housing,dignity, a secure and adequate income, worthwhileways of spending time, friends, and a purpose forliving. Squatting can provide a basis from whichpeople can work out their own solutions. Squattingcommunities have contained many examples ofpeople who share a particular problem squattingtogether and providing support for each other, includinggroups of ex-mental patients, junkies andwomen.There could be squats of people with drinkproblems supporting each other; there alreadyare heavy drinkers living successfully in squats.Squatting can also facilitate collectiveorganisation for exerting political pressure toimprove conditions. Squatting lacks the furtivesecrecy involved in skippering and clearly hasmore potential as a political force.Housing must be part of an overallimprovement in the combination ofcircumstances which at present oppress peopleand squatting can make this possible.Barriers to squattingMany skipperers express interest in squatting butare put off by the media image of squatters ashippies or nasty political agitators. Since squattershave been publicly condemned, it is not obviousthat squatting can be a step towards improvedstatus. It may appear simply to be a risky andshort-lived housing improvement and they maynot understand exactly what squatting is.Many people do not realise that they aredossers only as long as they think of themselvesas such and allow themselves to be treated asdossers. To be a squatter all they need to do is toput a lock on the door.Others may think they are squatting when theyare actually still using the skippering strategy andexperiencing its drawbacks. Skipperers need morecontact with squatters to learn about the possibilitiesand how to squat effectively. Skipperers arealso hindered from squatting by the attitudetowards ‘dossers’ of the police, the authoritiesand even many squatters. The police for instancefrequently attempt to distinguish between ‘real’Michael Abrahamssquatters and ‘dossers’ as in this example of anillegal eviction reported in SAC News in February1977: ‘The police claimed that the occupiers werenot squatters but that because they had very fewpossessions they were dossers’.The experience of these attitudes can encouragepeople to believe that they are essentiallydifferent from squatters. Ex-skippers, therefore,particularly need backing from squatters’organisations or other groups when they squat.Unfortunately squatters are not always helpful.In 1977,I visited several squatting groups suggestingthat skipperers should be offered support.Many squatters knew virtually nothing about skipperingwhilst others had the normal stereotypedimage of ‘dossers’ formed from the media andfrom street encounters with people who appearedstrange and awkward. Yet these squatters oftenhad ex-skipperers living among them whom theydid not identify as ‘dossers’ because they did notstand out as unusual and kept quiet about theirstigmatised backgrounds. One of these ex-skippererseven spoke out against ‘dossers’ in a squatters’street meeting I addressed, and took a long time toadmit his background in a later interview: ‘This islike these so-called dossers that hang around . . .People reject them, they throw them aside,they’re rejected from society. I mean, I’ve beenrejected from society. I used to sleep in Green Park.Sadly, the unpleasant consequences of homelessnessand the ‘skippering strategy’ have earnedskipperers a bad name and obscured the commonaspectofskipperersandsquattersasusersofemptyMike Wells200201

HARRYWhen Harry was drafted into the army during theSecond World War he left a wife and five kids inManchester. When he returned his wife had been‘messing about with someone else ‘, so he wentback into the army until 1950 and then went toLondon, where he wheeled a barrow round thestreets buying and selling odds and ends.‘I first stopped in Black friars Salvation Armybut that was no good. My clothes got stolen and Ihate them fuckin’ lice. I thought, sod that, I’m nothaving that any more. So I went skippering. Afterthat lodging house I said I’d never stay inanother lodging house again. I’ve slept all overthe fuckin’ place: in railway wagons in the backof Euston, in Regents Park, under the arches atCharing Cross, under boats but the police turnedme out, under the Brighton pier – coppers nevercame there because it was too low for theirhelmets. I slept in a boiler house in Paddingtonfor two years. The inspector said “If you staydown there you’ll be doing me a favour. Put acouple of shovels of coal on at four or five in themorning.” I got breakfast in a convent – thedown-and-outs used to queue up, and I used toqueue up with them.‘I had a lodging in Mornington Terrace for sixyears – 35 bob a week – but the house got boughtout and I had to get out. I lodged in Islington fora while – the same thing happened there too. Icouldn ‘t find a bleedin’ room, so I wentskippering again. I had to. I used to skipper inEuston Street. The owner gave me a key and said“don’t say nothing to nobody. “I lived in thebasement for two years. What put the hat on itwas the winos putting dog ends on the mattressesand setting fire to them. Council came round andtinned them up. I told them “I’m a tenant, lookI’ve got a key”. They said “You’ll have to be outtomorrow or we’ll have to throw you out”. Afterthat I slept in an old van in Whit field Street.Then I met Francis who had squatted in thehouses in Euston Street which the Council hadtinned up. She used to give me food and things.She gave me a room.’Harry squatted with a group of students in acommunal house for three years, taking an activepart in the life of the local squatting community.When Camden Council wanted the house back in1976, pressure from the squatting group gotHarry – bronchitic and now aged 65 – apermanent council tenancy.CRIQUETTECriquette was a heroin addict. For several yearsshe moved from one bed and breakfast hotel toanother, leaving by the backstairs because shehad no money to pay the bills. Her two childrenwere in care. In 1974, with her boyfriend Pete –an addict – she squatted a derelict house in awell-established squatting community. Othersquatters helped her to connect electricity andobtain furniture:‘At that time we were incapable of doing thingsfor ourselves . . . I was overwhelmed by theamount of support; meeting people who actuallycared and treated me as a human being insteadof being below human life. It made me realisethat not everyone in the world is shits. I madefriends for the first time since coming to London.It’s the only place where I found people who careda damn. Professionals just said “pull yourselftogether” and sent me away.’Having a relatively secure home and being in asupportive community, she developed the confidenceto take a two year course to end her heroinNick Watesaddiction and get her children out of care:‘This place rehabilitated me in so far as Icould start a new life. If it hadn ‘t been for thepeople here I would have rotted away. I’d havebeen dead if I hadn’t found this place.’JOHNJohn squatted in an organised street afterskippering for many years.‘I’ve been on the streets many times, before Iknew or understood anything about the meaningof squatting or to understand that you couldsquat with a communion of people. I didn’tunderstand this at all, I only thought it was ifyou went and slept in an old house “Oh, I’ll stayhere tonight because if I’m here any longer theneighbours around will fetch the police and I’mgoing to get thrown out”. It happened to me quitea few times and I got fed up of it you see. I had tokeep moving on and moving on.One time I was thrown out. There was no courtorder issued against me. I was at work at thetime and my stuff was just thrown out on thestreet. The door was just nailed up and I had nochance of getting into it.’John said that then he thought of himself as adosser, but he changed over to seeing himself as asquatter when he realised that by doing so hecould not be thrown out so easily. The differencebetween living in the squatting community afterbeing on his own is very important to him.‘Living on your own is like being shut away,you know, shut of f from the world, you know, youfeel shut away, you feel not wanted, it’s like beingin prison, you ‘re sort of shut away from thatsociety and between you and society there’s agreat wall and the only people that are with youis the people you ‘re in prison with sort of thing.’Mike Wellsproperty who, despite the hardships involved,choose self-reliance and independence inpreference to the poor, institutionalaccommodation available to homeless people.In many areas skipperers used houses beforeothers squatted them. Sometimes skipperers havebeen effectively evicted by squatters as theyreturned to find locks on the doors of the housesthey had been using. On occasions, this has resultedin physical confrontation 7 . Mostly the skipperershave been pushed out, but at times they havebeen absorbed into squatting communities or havesimply continued to live side by side. Yet whenpeople have continued skippering in a destructivefashion it has endangered squatters’ attempts topresent themselves as ‘responsible’ users of emptyproperty, thus providing an incentive to dissociatethemselves from ‘winos’ or ‘dossers’. Homelesspeople who are used to having to wangle theirway into charities and obey staff whom theyresent have approached squatting communitieswithout realising that they are fundamentallydifferent. This has made squatters suspicious ofanyone who looks like a ‘dosser’. For instance asquatter in St. Agnes Place, Lambeth, said:‘People’s reaction now about old blokes cominground – it depends on if they’re really sort ofgrasping and they’re obviously lying andthey’re out for what they can get. There wasone bloke like that who was really hard totake. He just let the house he was living incollapse. People ripped off the lead and he letthe LEB in to cut off the electricity. So it’sbeen really hard, because of that kind ofhistory when someone does come roundlooking for a place to live who is asking you todo everything for them, which is what some ofthese people have done, then you’re reallywary because of previous experience.’Dialogue is needed about why self-help is important.With squatting no one gets paid for socialwork. There is not the built-in inequality in relationshipsthat one finds in institutions. Squattingis not an inferior form of state hand-out whichdeserves to be abused. Getting a house together isa step towards taking control over one’s own lifeand circumstances rather than the strictly limitedform of participation offered by institutions wherethe real control is with the social workers. When‘dossers’ join squatting groups, these issues needto be discussed as otherwise squatters can beviewed as social workers trying to impose self-help.Organizing to end the ‘dosser’ problemDespite these conflicts and prejudices on both‘sides’, squatters who have made an effort tocontact ‘dossers’ have been welcomed as ‘one ofus’ in contrast to ‘one of those social workers’. Theachievements of the squatting movement are ableto inspire the feeling that people can fight backand squatting can provide new hope for peoplewho feel powerless and politically isolated.In 1976, I helped to start a political organisationcalled PROD (Preservation of the Rights ofDossers). It was clear that many ‘dossers’ want tosee political changes and an end to prejudice anddiscrimination. But homelessness makes politicalorganisation difficult. The people are preoccupiedwith daily survival, hard to contact and afraid ofbeing barred from lodging houses and day centresfor their political activities. PROD saw squattingas a possible solution and felt that this would alsobe a step towards political consciousness. Puttingone’s own lock on the door declares a right tosomewhere to live. Taking the boards down fromthe windows symbolizes a removal of the barrierbetween society and people ‘outside’ it.PROD never really got off the ground. Butwhatever future organisation occurs, differentlabels must not be allowed to disguise commoninterests and common humanity, nor to implyassumptions about the wide range of people whoare lumped together by them. In order to uniteall people with common interests we must rejectthe isolation of particular problem ‘groups’ fromeach other and be suspicious of categoriesdevised for administrative convenience andsocial control. Squatters’ groups, the ClaimantsUnion, trade unions and residents associationscould all provide a basis for political organisationrelevant to ‘dossers’ problems.Until recently, ‘single homelessness’ wascharacterised as being to do with ‘dossers’ and‘inadequacy’. 8 Thus squatting gained support iffamilies were housed, but single people receivedscant consideration. This meant that the totallyinadequate Housing (Homeless Persons) Act waspassed in 1977 limiting statutory provision topriority groups of single people (the old and thesick) because the Government claimed thatcouncils could not afford to house everyone inneed. At the same time the Criminal Law Actwas brought in to intimidate squatters whilst thevagrancy laws remain a permanent threat.•Mike Wells 1980202203

Squatting around theIts not just Britain – looking further afield.20 Everybody’s doing itSquatting in The Netherlands, Ireland, Denmark,Portugal, Italy, Hong Kong and other places204205

Everybody’s doing itA look at some of the world’s diverse squatting movementsThis chapter presents some information aboutsquatting around the world. It is not acomprehensive survey of worldwide squatting,but shows a range of different approaches andtactics which have been tried.There are two types of squatting: on land andin empty buildings. The former is a much moreextensive phenomenon than the latter, but it isonly discussed briefly here because considerableliterature already exists about it. The rest of thechapter covers squatting in buildings.Land SquattingAs much as one tenth of the global population ishoused in urban squatting communities.Almost allmajor cities in Asia, Africa and South Americahave vast squatter settlements on the outskirts.These have many different names, e g shantytowns, bidonvilles in French (meaning ‘tin towns’),gourbevilles in Tunisia, favelas in Brazil, coloniasparacaidistas (parachutists) in Mexico and so on.In many cases a substantial proportion ofinhabitants of a city are squatters: for example inthe mid 1960s in Lima, Peru, 45 per cent of thepopulation (more than a million) were squatters,in Djakarta, Indonesia, 25 per cent (750,000people) and in Ankara,Turkey nearly 50 per cent. 2Migrants flood to the cities from the countrysidein search of work and initially sleep outsideor find somewhere with relatives or friends. Theonly way that they can get reasonably permanentroofs over their heads is by building shacks forthemselves on unused land at the edge of thecity. To achieve this they usually work in groupsand take possession of land by building shacksovernight; sometimes there are small firmswhich specialise in this clandestine operation.Some authoritarian governments, like SouthAfrica, Chile and Indonesia, have completelyby Mark GimsonNick WatesMonique HervoPaul Almassy/ Camera PressRadio Times Hulton Picture LibraryChapter20Self built homes on squatted land.Top left: Paris, France.Top centre: Malaya, 1950.Top right: Salisbury, Zimbabwe.Bottom left: Guatemala City, Guatemala, 1976.Bottom centre: Bombay, India.Bottom right: Tondo, Manila, Phillipines, 1976.Hagar Shour/ Camera Pressdestroyed such settlements without providingany alternative. But in most countries the vastnumber of squatters and the lack of alternativeshave compelled reluctant authorities to recognisesquatter settlements and grudgingly to helpprovide water supplies, electricity and drains.Before this living conditions are often appalling,and the installation of services is a turning pointin the battle for a reasonable place to live. Thesquatters then continue gradually to improvetheir houses and slowly the settlements becomean established part of the city.This process is mainly confined to the thirdworld, although it also occurs on the peripheriesof Southern European cities like Athens, MadridLisbon and Naples and in bidonvilles outside Paris.With the extraordinarily rapid growth of thirdworld cities we can see the property market developingvery quickly.Within a few years of occupyingland, squatters regard themselves as the owners,and sometimes sublet or sell their dwellings.Although this ‘third world squatting’ is adifferent phenomenon from the squatting ofempty buildings in Britain, there are importantsimilarities in both cases squatting isunauthorised direct action by poorer members ofthe society and in both cases it is perceived as athreat by the property-owning class.Squatting in empty houses has recently beentaking place throughout Western Europe. Theavailability of empty property is obviously a prerequisitefor this type of squatting, andhomelessness or intolerable living conditions arethe main stimulus. Often the authorities, backedup by repressive laws, have reacted morestrongly than in Britain.West GermanyIn Germany the law of Hausfriedensbruch(breaking the peace of a building or piece of land)is rather like the rejected criminal trespassproposals in Britain. Squatters can be arrestedimmediately on instructions from the owner.Similarly, owners can easily obtain eviction orderswhich can be executed with help from the police.After eviction and arrest for Hausfriedensbruchsquatters in Germany have frequently been chargedwith other offences: burglary, criminal damageand conspiracy.The legal position and the strengthof the German police makes squatting a veryclandestine activity. Buildings have to be carefullyselected and secretly taken over; either in the hopethat the owners will not find out straightaway orwith the prospect of an immediate violentconfrontation. In either case squats can onlysurvive if backed by an organised campaignwhich raises the political stakes so high that theauthorities hold their fire.Despite these adverse conditions, squatting hasdeveloped in Germany. Church and universityauthorities have on occasion acquiesced to the presenceof squatters and on other occasions, violentdefence campaigns have held off the police.The first known squat since the war tookplace in September 1970 in Frankfurt’s WestEnd when 23 tenement buildings were occupied.During 1973 and 1974 the Frankfurt authoritiescarried out a successful campaign to stamp outsquatting, culminating in police using tear-gas inevictions. By 1976, they claimed there were onlytwo squats left in the city. Many of the squatters(and rent strikers) were Turkish or Italianimmigrants although it was difficult for them to beinvolved in direct action because of theirprecarious legal position under the ‘guest worker’system which enables them to be deported orrefused new work permits on the slightest pretext.Other big German cities such as Munich andHamburg have had only a handful of squats TheWest German establishment has always beenquick to describe all squatters as ‘terrorists’,thereby justifying the use of all availablemethods of repression.With rapidly rising rents and a reduction of antiterroristtensions, there have been new squattinginitiatives in 1979 and 1980. As in several otherEuropean countries, many of these have beenmore an expression of alienation from the atomisedlifestyle imposed by the planning system thana reflection of absolute housing shortage In thesummer of 1979 there was a wave of squatting inWest Berlin in the Kreuzberg district, animmigrant area, where many dilapidated flatswere taken over and repaired. This activity isnow called Instand(be) setzung (rehabilitationoccupation).Support for the squatters and thelocal political situation has prevented eviction.Theformer Nazi film studios were also taken over andin Spring 1980 the squatters were legitimised forthree years and allowed to pay rent.Around the same time, students squatted adisused eye hospital attached to the university inGottmgen where there was an acute student206207

The end of a squat in Hamburg, West Germany, afterand attack by 400 police, 1973.housing crisis. They mounted a large campaigneventually forcing the authorities to granttenancies to many of them. In February 1980, asquatters conference was held in the hospital. Itshowed that squatting now existed in dozens ofGerman towns where such activity had previouslybeen unknown, and people from 26 towns attendedthe conference. By summer 1980 houses in tenstreets were squatted in Cologne and groupswere also established in Aachen, Braunschweig,Tubingen, Frieburg, Frankfurt and Giessen.Although this squatting movement generallyinvolves fewer squatters than in Holland,Denmarkor Britain, the legal and political situation meansthey must be highly organised and politicallyaware, and with a deepening housing crisis theyare bound to make an important contribution tothe German political scene.KeystoneThe NetherlandsIn the Netherlands most squatting (kraken inDutch, meaning ‘to crack’) has been in Amsterdam,but it is extensive in every large Dutch city. Amsterdam,with a population of 700,000 has 5,000people on the waiting list and it takes four years toget to the top of it. Squatting first emerged in themid sixties and it has grown steadily ever since.In the spring of 1980 the authorities estimatedthat there were between 6,000 and 7,000 squattedhouses in Amsterdam alone with a slightly smallernumber in the rest of Holland. Squatters have hada strong influence on city planning issues by focusingopposition to road building, hotel and officeplans and by fighting to maintain low-incomehousing in the city centre.One of the most dynamic and spectacularsquatting groups was in the Nieuwmarkt area inthe centre of Amsterdam. In the late 1960s thetown council decided to build an undergroundline through the area, which, because of theswampy soil conditions, meant demolishing allthe buildings on the proposed route, most ofwhich provided low rent houses. Many peopleopposed the plans, not only because it meant thelarge-scale demolition of a historic part of thecity, but also because they knew that the housingwould be replaced by offices, banks and hotels,and that the residents would be decanted intogigantic housing estates outside the city.About 300 squatters occupied houses on theroute of the projected underground, and in 1975the struggle came to a head when the town counciltried to evict them. The squatters barricaded thebuildings using welded sheet steel and anti-teargascurtains on all windows. A kind of drawbridgemade of steel cables and decorated with cartoonswas hung between two buildings and a brightlypainted ‘people’s tank’ attempted to confuse thepolice! A human barricade was formed round thebuilding, police vehicles were overturned andsprayed with paint to make them look ridiculous.The police, heavily armed with tear-gas, watercannons and an armoured car, finally occupied thebuilding which was then demolished within anhour.Several people were arrested (and subsequentlyjailed) and others suffered minor injuries. A‘funeral’ was arranged the following day at which3,000 people laid flowers on the rubble.Although the squatters lost the immediate battleto save the buildings,the general population,nowalerted to the threat to the city, was so shockedby the violent confrontations shown on televisionthat the authorities were forced to scrap plans tobuild any more underground lines in the city.Similar though less spectacular campaigns ledto the authorities rejecting proposals for officedevelopments and road schemes. In all thecampaigns, squatters joined forces with otherlocal people and provided the main impetuslargely because they had the time and energy.The Nieuwmarkt squatters developed highlyefficient forms of organisation. A key feature wasthe communal fund. Each squatter was expected– though not compelled – to pay 10 gilders (£2)per week, three-quarters of which was used topay for building services, and one quarter tomeet ‘action costs’ such as posters, leaflets andother campaign expenses. To avoid centralisationthere was no single fund, but each house or blockof houses kept the money. At one time, decisionsabout expenditure were made at centralmeetings but later people who needed moneypresented their project to each household, whichthen decided how much to allocate. As well asbeing an expression of solidarity, this fundenabled many projects to be carried out whichwould not otherwise have started; for instance,the occupation of offices and warehouses andtheir conversion into housing within a month ortwo. The group could also boast a cafe, aprintshop, a bookshop and an illegal radiostation. In 1977 when the squatters in Villa Roadin London were mounting a campaign to avoideviction, Amsterdam squatters sent £200 out oftheir funds in support. Few British squattinggroups ever had as much money in their kitties.The local action groups linked with othergroups both in Amsterdam and elsewhere in Hollandby means of representative meetings. By 1980there were 15 information centres in Amsterdamwith weekly consulting hours for prospectivesquatters, and an extensive monthly bulletin waspublished. Because many of the property speculatorsin Amsterdam are British, occasional tripshave been made to Britain to attend propertydevelopers conferences and to attempt to obtaininformation about particular developers plans.Information networks are more highly developedthan in British squatting groups, with informationabout developments constantly leaked from insidesources and computers used to trace changes inproperty ownership. A comprehensive file ofbuilding permits inAmsterdam was started in 1977which enables squatters to know the owners ofempty buildings and their plans. Speculators andpoliticians in Holland have tried but failed tostamp out squatting. Between 1977 and 1979squatters in Holland organised a whole series ofboth local and national demonstrations andoccupations against the Government’s proposedanti-squatting laws. Under the slogan ‘Kraak deanli-kraak wet’ (break the anti-squatting law), inJanuary 1978 1,500 squatters from 30 differenttowns and cities marched through Amsterdam.On September 21 1978, 150 Dutch squattersbesieged the British Embassy at The Hague inBlauwe MaandagTony SleepTony SleepTony SleepSquatters organise in Amsterdam.Top left: A stencilled wall shows where a house used tobe.Top second from left: Tarring and feathering a Britishproperty speculator’s offices.Top second from right: Building street barricades fromcobble stones.Top right: Welding sheet steel barricades.Above left: Collecting a levy helps pay for house repairs,pirate radio stations and much more.Above right: Monitoring of police radio withcomputerised scanners is done 24 hours a day to getadvance warning of police activity.Left: The Golden Crowbar, one of several unlicensedbars run illegally by squatters to raise money. Staff areunpaid and drinks are cheap.Right: Internal alarm intercom system in a fortifiedsquat. Each floor can be sealed off separately.Tony SleepTony Sleep208209

Battles in Amsterdam.Above: Nieuwmarkt, 1975. Police use watercannonagainst a squat on the route of the Metro. Thesquatters throw paint on police cars. All windows have‘curtains’ against teargas and an improvised bridgeprovides a means of escape.Centre, left and right: Vondelstraat, February/March1980. Streets are barricaded in several places toprotect a squat (shown in the left of the top twophotos) which is threatened with eviction. A few nightslater, a convoy of tanks arrives and the barricades arecleared despite resistance.Far right: Prins Hendrikkade, August 1980. 2,000police and a remarkable array of special equipment(including converted skips full of armed police to belowered onto the roof) is used to evict a single squat.In the event the authorities looked rather foolish sinceonly one squatter and 10 journalists were in thebuilding, the rest having slipped out.Blauwe MaandagPieter Boersmasupport of the Huntley Street 14 arrested underthe Criminal Law Act (pp 94-6). The action wasintended as a warning to the Dutch governmentagainst their own moves to bring in legislation.The squatters started to board up the embassyin the style of British speculators boarding upbuildings in Holland and shoved toy bulldozersthrough the letter box as a reminder of HuntleyStreet. Fifty-seven people were arrested, held forfour days, and later fined.These actions are not spontaneous. Meetings ofrepresentativesfromsquattinggroupsdecidewhento take initiatives like this and funds are raisedfrom the regular squatters contributions to theirfunds in different neighbourhoods and large sumsare also made in cafes and bars run by squatters.The size of the Kraak de Anti-Kraak Wet campaignand the strength of the squatting movementhas made it impossible for the coalition governmentto pass the anti-squatting laws withoutitself cracking apart. At the end of 1979 the citywideorganisation ofAmsterdam squatters reachednew heights with the successful development anddefence of the Grotte Keyser squatters organisingcentre on the Keyser Gracht (Keyser Canal) incentral Amsterdam. This group of grand townhouses was made into a fortress in December 1979with steel, wood, barbed wire, exploding potatocrackers (!) and paint bombs. The authorities gaveup without trying to breach its defences and asquatters pirate radio was later established in thesquat. The Grotte Keyser, still going in summer1980,played an important role in struggles to come.Dutch squatters hit the world headlines inMarch 1980 when tanks were sent in to clear a ‘No-Go’ area set up by squatters in Amsterdam. Thesquatters had created a ‘No Go’ area blockingroads and tramlines in the middle of the city inresponse to the eviction a week earlier of squats inVondelstraat which the authorities didn’t want tosee becoming another Grotte Keyser. The squatswere re-occupied on 29 February and the ‘No Go’area was created to defend them. Although thebarricades were pulled down on 3 March by policearmed with water cannon and tanks armed withshovel scoops, the Vondelstraat squats were leftalone. That evening 12,000 people demonstratedsupport for the squatters in a rally in Central Amsterdam.Squatters regained the attention of theworld’s media two months later when together withother anti-monarchists, they organised a massivedemonstration to protest against the coronation210Anpfoto/ Press Association211Associated PressAmpfoto/ Press AssociationAmpfoto/ Press Association

of Queen Beatrice under the slogan ‘No housing– no crowning’.Despite massive confrontations with theauthorities, the squatters have managed to stayin the key areas of Amsterdam. The authoritiesare reluctant to use all their might against theDutch squatting movement as it has attracted somuch support. It remains an inspiration forhousing and planning struggles everywhere.FranceIt was in France that the recent era of direct actionwas ushered in with the near revolution of May1968. Despite this, squatting has been restricted toa few determined activists.Owners have been quickto carry out evictions without going through thecourts and a law which forbids evictions betweenDecember and March was, for a long time, said bythe authorities not to apply to squatters. This lawmeans that seasonal squatting and skippering iswidespread. People who sleep rough in thesummer take to ramshackle squats in the wintermonths but usually vacate them in the springunless they have become more organised andconscious of their rights in the meantime.It has only recently been established thatpolice do need a court order to evict, and since1976 there have been a few squats in Paris andother French cities – Tours, Lyon, Lille,Strasbourg, Grenoble, Caen and Toulouse. In1978 there were many squatters in Paris, mostlyto the south of Montparnasse in a decaying area,or in the east around Belleville.Many Paris flats have been taken over indecaying blocks where tenants were in the processof being evicted. 4 Squatters also played a part inhelping neighbourhood groups oppose and eventuallydefeat plans to build a new urban motorwayfrom the south into the heart of Paris. In the southof France,six farms have been squatted and farmedfor years as part of the massive non-violent campaignto save 42,000 acres of the Larzac plateaufrom being used as an army training camp. 5 Elsewheresquatters have attacked redevelopmentplans and property speculation. In 1979 mostsquats were evicted and the absence of any realsquatters organisation or coherent strategy meantthat by 1980 there were only a few left. However,the Paris community centre and workshop squat inRue des Pyrenees and other related buildings hadwide support and may be the centre of a new wave.Squatters demonstrate ‘for a living city’ in Stockholm,Sweden, 1977.Sweden and FinlandIn Sweden squatting has been erratic but neverthelesson a number of occasions spectacularsquats have gained support for housing rightsand had an impact on planning decisions.About 60 people moved into a block of emptyflats in Krukmarkargatan, Stockholm in October1977 in an attempt to stop demolition. The squat,which was known as ‘The Mole Squat’ was initiallyheavily attacked by the Stockholm Tenants Unionwhose representative denounced the squatters as‘housing thieves’ and made the usual attempt tosplit the badly housed against each other:‘How did they get their flats in the inner city?Not by standing in the housing queue andwaiting their turn. They by-passed all theloyal tenants who have waited for their wornoutflats to be replaced by modern ones.Clenched-fist politics on the housing frontcan never be accepted.’ 6However the Mole squat fought back. It becamea centre to help the homeless and drug addictsas well as a part of the struggle against wantondemolition. The ‘Mole’ squat was evicted inAugust 1978 in a typically Swedish liberal way.The police surrounded the building and gave theoccupants two days to leave. They refused andthe police eventually moved in amidst a massivedemonstration of thousands of supporters.In Finland squatting has been growing. InHelsinki the Lepakko hostel was squatted in thesummer of 1979. Eventually the authoritiesagreed to the occupation and gave funds forrepairs. Encouraged by this, other occupationshave taken place, and some politicians nowbelieve they miscalculated when they legitimisedthe Lepakko occupation.Micke BergIrelandThere was a marked growth in squatting on bothsides of the border in the late sixties and seventies.In Northern Ireland the large populationmovements of 1971-2 caused by the sectarianconflict led to widespread homelessness and manyabandoned homes. Squatting has been a featureof every outbreak of sectarian violence and thecurrent war (which has resulted in housing beingalmost entirely segregated on religious grounds)has spawned a massive outbreak of squatting. Forinstance, in January 1977, there were 6,168 squatsin property belonging to the Northern IrelandHousing Executive (the only public housingauthority) according to official statistics. Therewas also some squatting in private propertygiving a total of at least 30,000 squatters. Sincethen numbers have declined somewhat.In some areas during the mid-seventies, theExecutive lost control over its housing as squattingwas organised by para-military groups of bothreligious denominations. At times, it was easierto obtain housing from the Irish RepublicanArmy or the Ulster Defence Association whicheven operate a points system for the allocation ofhousing, than from the Executive. 8Squatting has been most prevalent inCatholic areas, particularly in Belfast and, to alesser extent Derry, as the shortage of housing isgreater in Catholic areas. Squatters occupy alltypes of property both old and new. Their motiveis often to stay in an area in which they feel saferather than to avoid homelessness.Recently the para-military groups have beenless involved, and people squatting tend to do iton an individual unorganised basis. Recognisingits inability to cope, the Executive has legalisedmany squatters by giving them licensee statusand issuing them with ‘use and occupation’ rentbooks. Eviction of squatters in many areas isdifficult because of fear of violence. Out of 3,781Executive properties squatted in July 1980, courtaction had only been started against 315 andonly 89 of these were awaiting eviction by thebailiffs. 9 Under current legislation, the Executiveis obliged to rehouse most evicted squatters, afurther deterrent to evicting them.Technically, squatting is illegal in NorthernIreland under an act passed in 1946 in responseto a wave of squatting initiated, as in England,by returning soldiers (see Chapter 9). It enablescourts to give a maximum of three monthsimprisonment and a small fine. However, inpractice few squatters are prosecuted and eventhen they are merely given fines and evictedrather than imprisoned.Squatting in the Republic is largely confinedto tower blocks in Dublin. These were builthastily following a housing emergency in 1963-9when it was discovered that many of Dublin’stenement blocks were unsafe.People moving out of the blocks started a waveof squatting. According to Dublin Corporationthere were 840 squatted homes in 1976 and 500in 1980. A relatively tolerant attitude towardssquatters is forced on the Corporation by theirreadiness to resist eviction forcibly. Furthermore,as in the North, most people squatting qualifyfor rehousing. Many squatters have had theiroccupancy legalised by a licensee arrangementwhereby they become ‘non-regularised’ tenants.As well as the tower blocks, a few of theCorporation’s derelict properties have beensquatted by single people and there is a littlesquatting in the private sector. Squatters in theRepublic appear not to be organised in any way,choosing instead to ‘lie low’ and are opposed bythe powerful Irish tenants movement.DenmarkThere were one or two isolated squats in Denmarkin the mid-sixties.Then with the student uprisingsat the end of the decade, groups of ‘slumstormers’started occupying empty privately-ownedbuildings in Copenhagen in protest againstproperty speculation. Later on the movementspread to other towns like Aalborg, Aarhus andRanders.There has never been much homelessnessin Denmark, and squatting has been integratedinto other environmental and housing campaigns.In the spring of 1980 one such campaignreached a climax. For several years an adventureplayground had been set up on a former car parkin Noerrebro, a district of central Copenhagen.Several attempts to evict were resisted bythousands of local residents and sympathisers.Although the police were eventually successful,riots continued for several days; eight buses wereused as barricades, and hundreds of people werearrested.In Denmark, from 1966 onwards, various Actsof Parliament relaxed controls and removed otherrestrictions on landlords with the result that rentsrose drastically. A law which enables councils torequisition flats empty for more than four weeksseldom used, and even then only following localpressure but the law does deter property ownersfrom leaving property empty for long.Police in Denmark can evict squatters withoutresorting to the courts at the request of the ownertherefore squatting has always been undertakenby organised groups which have often occupiedthe same building several times until the policetired of throwing them out. Technically squatterscan be arrested and jailed, but after a few initialarrests, this has rarely happened because ofcampaigns by squatting groups using sloganslike ‘if you are homeless, go to jail’.After 1971, squatting groups increasinglydeveloped links with neighbourhood actiongroups and, after 1977, with unions. The‘slumstormer’ groups also worked closely withtenants’ associations. In the early seventies, mostsquatting was in old buildings but later on newflats were taken over in protest at high rents.Courts have more discretion than in Britain. InMay 1978 at Denmark’s largest hospital inAarhus, unemployed young people occupied morethan 30 nurses’ flats, some of which had beenempty for over two years. The hospitalauthorities took the case to court, but the courtruled that the squatters could remain until suchtime as the nurses wanted the flats.Copenhagen is the scene of Christiania,Denmark’s most spectacular squat. It is in thecentre of the city just a few minutes walk fromthe Stock Exchange and Danish governmentbuildings. This 54 acre site used to be a navalbarracks until it was abandoned in 1970 andsoon taken over by squatters. There are about175 buildings ranging from large barrack blocksand halls with space for hundreds of peopledown to small huts. The squatters havegradually expanded their territory to includeboth banks of a beautiful lake which used to bepart of the defences.Many of the buildings have been brightly paintedand trees and grass have been planted whereformerly there were concrete parade grounds.Most of the structures have been care-fullyrepaired using second-hand materials, and somenew dwellings have been built. It is a haven forartists and musicians and many businesses havesprung up, e g furniture restorers, a blacksmith,a large theatre group, restaurants, a bakery andnumerous bars. The Free Town has also spawnedis its own post office, kindergarten, clinic andcommunal bath house. One of the few rules isthat cars are not allowed in and mostChristianites walk or ride bikes.The permanent population of Christiania isabout 1,000 although in summer there is probablytwice that number. In January 1976, a Copenhagenmagistrate tried to find out particularsif about the Christianites. Of the 562 inhabitantswho gave details, about 200 were not Danes,about half of those being from other Scandinaviancountries. There were about 90 one-parent familiesand 10 runaway children. Only about 50 peoplewere in full time employment outside Christiania,but many others had an income within the FreeTown. 10 The conventions of western society areconfidently flaunted because Christiania is largeenough to constitute a self-contained world.The Christianites have no appointed leaders.There is a decentralised structure by which thesettlement is divided into districts, each of whichdeals with any local problems or conflicts.Problems affecting the whole of Christiania go toan open meeting of the whole community, anddecisions are only made by consensus. Variousworking groups exist to deal with particularaspects of community life like information,cleaning up, tree planting, fire protection, festivalorganisation and so on.Christiania has become so well known inDenmark that at weekends coaches of touristspull up outside and disgorge their occupants to‘see how the hippies live’. The impression thatmany of them take away is quite misleadingbecause the first people to greet visitors areusually drug dealers. As in many Britishsquatting communities, the freedom and absenceof controls attracts drug addicts, alcoholics andcriminals and at times the problems created bythem have been in danger of swamping the morecreative aspects of the community. Variousattempts were made to overcome thesedifficulties and in October 1979, 3,000 peopleturned up to Christiania’s Great Hall to launch aPeople’s Movement Against Hard Drugs. Dealersof hard drugs were banned and addicts told to goto special houses made available in the countryfor a period of at least six months. Those whoobjected were banished. The Movement subsequentlyspread to other parts of Denmark.Public reaction to Christiania was initially212213

hostile, partly because it was hard to find outabout what was really happening there. Butsupport grew steadily. During 1976 for instanceDanish television arranged for a trade unionistand his family to live for a week in Christiania.The resulting programme influenced many Danesto re-examine the previous hostile press whichChristiania had received, because it showed thefamily gradually being won over to the qualitiesof the place. The traditional political left hastended to dismiss Christiania as ‘escapist’ andirrelevant to the class struggle, but has increasinglyfound it hard to ignore the Free Town.The Danish authorities have been divided intheir attitude to Christiania. For three yearsfrom 1973 to 1976, it was accepted by thegovernment as a ‘temporary social experiment’ inrecognition of the fact that many refugees frommodern life and problems were finding a haventhere. On 1 April, 1976, this agreement expiredand Christiania was threatened with eviction. A‘rainbow army’ was organised in defence, socalled because of the use of colours to symbolisedifferent activities which people could put theirenergies into, and 30,000 people demonstrated inthe city centre.Lengthy court cases delayed eviction for twoyears and when Christiania finally lost in court,an elaborate defence strategy was preparedbased on openess and non-violence. In the eventof an eviction attempt a rather ambitiousscenario was envisaged:•Church bells would be rung and sirens set off•A sophisticated telephone network wouldspread the alert throughout the country in minutes•Copenhagen’s bridges would be blocked bydemonstrators•Trains would be halted by people lying onthe tracks•Football matches would be played on airportrunways•Bonfires would be lit in the streets•Pirate radio stations would intervene onlocal broadcasting stations•Traffic would be disrupted throughout the city•All taxis would immediately be askedthrough their radios to converge on ChristianiaThis co-ordinated plan for social disruptionthroughout the country was described by a formerchief of the NATO Defence College in Rome onRadio Denmark as ‘sound, extraordinarily intelligent,and strategically well-thought through.’ FacedNick WatesBuilding homes from waste materials.View from a neighbouring church spire.Bicycle workshop214Tom BurrowsNick WatesMark EdwardsMark EdwardsChristiania, a 54 acresquat near the centreof Copenhagen,Denmark.A homeopathic clinicNick WatesNick WatesRestaurant/bar in a bunkerCars are not allowedChristiania’s Santa Claus army215Nick WatesClothes are unnecessary in warm weatherUsing the lake and the bars. Bottom right: Badge from the ‘people’s campaign against hard drugs’.Nick WatesMark Edwards

with increasing public support for Christiania, theGovernment agreed to allow it to remain untilplans for the area have been drawn up. At thetime of writing (summer 1980) it appears asthough Christiania will remain indefinitely, butChristianites fear that the Government willimpose conditions and restrictions whicheffectively will destroy it.SpainOne of the centres of squatting in post-FrancoSpain has been El Ferrol, ironically the lateGeneral Franco’s home town. An official report inOctober 1977 reported 404 squatted dwellingsthere, and 1754 in the whole of Spain. The reportrecommended strategies which British readersmay find familiar: promises of action torequisition empty property, regularising thesituation of ‘deserving’ squatters and strongaction against squatters who were not ‘deserving’or refused to be ‘regularised’. 11PortugalIn Portugal, squatting was an importantcomponent of political developments after theoverthrow of the fascist regime on 25 April 1974.Within a year of the coup there were 5000squatted houses in the Lisbon area alone. 12 By1976 there were an estimated 80,000 squattersin the whole country. 13 In the words of aPortuguese sociologist: 14‘Though the occupation movement startedrather spontaneously and lacked organisationat first, soon commissions of slum residentswere created to structure the movement andcontrol the occupations, to defend them and tofight against opportunism.The movement extended to include theoccupation of vacant houses privately owned.In other instances, groups of tenants decided tostop paying rents considered to be speculative.When eviction orders were passed they refusedto leave the houses; when the police or thearmed forces were called upon to intervene, theresidents offered resistance and in some casesmanaged to stay. The provisional governmentrecognised the bad housing conditions of theworking class, but considered the occupationsillegal. In September 1974, a decree was passedsetting a period of four months for all landlordsto declare their vacant houses. Mostlandlords evaded the law.In spite of military and police repression theoccupation movement continued to expand. Bythe beginning of 1975 it had become a nationalmovement. Some organisations of the revolutionaryleft started supporting it and werethemselves responsible for several occupationsin order to set up popular clinics, culturalcentres, nursery schools etc. The big politicalparties, including the Socialist and CommunistParties, condemned the occupations as being“anarchic” and “adventurist” behaviour.’In 1975, buildings were occupied both forresidential and communal purposes ranging fromhotels used as meeting places to big houses usedfor children’s play centres. The squats that werelived in were generally larger than those inBritain and were taken over as mass collectivesquats. Olivais Square in Lisbon, for example,was taken over by a group of 500 peopleorganised by left wing militants.In that exciting post-revolutionary atmosphere,the obvious next step was to expropriate propertyowned by the rich. Consequently many emptyhouses and vast amounts of land owned byaffluent landlords were taken over and otherstruggles on housing developed. For example, inSetubal, groups of tenants banded together andpaid half their normal rent. They received suchstrong support in the factories that thegovernment found it difficult to evict them.Some squatters had their occupationlegitimised. They had to find the owner, get anevaluation from the tax department and negotiatea rent based on it. Neighbourhood associationsco-ordinated this process. The other side of thiscoin was that squatters who did not do this werethreatened with eviction, after the spring of1976. 15 The Portuguese authorities have thusused the same tactic as the British and Spanish,dividing squatters into ‘legal’ and ‘illegal’.In the event, most of these struggles peteredout as the government gradually re-establishedprivate property rights, outlawing both squattingand factory occupations.ItalyItaly is probably the only European country wheresquatting over the last ten years has been as widespreadas in the UK and Holland. Italian police216have the power to evict squatters immediately,therefore squatting has usually been on a verybig scale, large groups of people occupying emptyblocks of flats. Squatters have often beensupported, for the first few days at least, by largenumbers of sympathisers. In Italy there is littlepublic sector housing and, even more than inother countries, luxury flats rather than cheaphousing have been built. It is common for theseflats to stand empty for months or even yearsbefore tenants who can afford the rent are found.A day in a squatting struggle in Rome, 28 April1971, is described here by some of those involved:‘Very early in the morning a group of familiestake over another block of flats. Nobody knowsyet whether the flats belong to the council ornot. People begin to organise, staircase bystaircase, while other families continue toarrive. In the afternoon there’s a festive moodabout the place; a turntable with loudspeakershas been installed on the balcony of one block,and all the other balconies are crowded withpeople who’ve come to take a look round, or tosee friends or families who are squatting.The first assembly takes place with ahundred squatters present. There’s a generalconsensus of opinion: “If the flats are private,then the council should buy them and givethem to us.” The first police begin to arrive.Nobody takes any notice. Workers from otherareas arrive to talk about the problemsthey’re having. They promise to do the same,and encourage people not to give in. By about8pm every block (about 400 flats) in the ViaAngeli is occupied. And as other familiesarrive they occcupy neighbouring blocks offlats. People arrive with frying pans,mattresses, cookers. They mean to stay.’ 16In one of the most publicised squats 70 familiesoccupied flats in the Via Tibaldi in Milan in June1971. A week of battles with the authoritiesculminated in a demonstration of 30,000 people insupport of the squatters who were finally rehousedby the council. Partly because of the large scale oforganisation required for a successful action,squatting in Italy has mainly been confined to thelargest cities – Milan, Turin, Rome and Naples.In 1974 it was claimed that there were 3000families squatting in Rome. 17 But some squattinghas been reported in smaller places such asPalermo, Livorno, Salerno, Bologna, Florence andVenice. In 1976 an Italian journalist estimatedSquatting in Italy.Left: Occupying a church, Rome,1974Top right: Home in a grandstandat the Parioli Racecourse, Rome,1955.Middle and bottom right: Massoccupations of flats in Milan,1968-1972.217KeystoneKeystoneUniversita ArchitetturaUniversita Architettura

that squatting ‘has already provided more than10,000 homes in recent years. Squatting no longerreceives much coverage in the Italian newspapersas it has become such a frequent affair, especiallyin the large cities, that it is no longer news.’ 18 TheItalian Communist Party has discouragedsquatting, even calling squatters ‘enemies of theworking class’. Squatting as a decentralised activitychallenges and threatens the Party’s strategy ofrevolution. By contrast anarchist and revolutionaryleft groups like Lotta Continua and AvanguardiaOperaia have used squatting as a tactic.A recent trend has been the occupation ofproperties more like British squats, ie decayinghouses and flats in residential parts of cities. Partsof these have become community centres, cafesand alternative shops which also act as bases forextra-parliamentary political groups. Theseinitiatives were given a boost by the proliferationof ‘free’ broadcasting following a decision of theconstitutional court in June 1976 which removedthe state monopoly on broadcasting. In thefollowing year, at least 1200 radio stations and 60television stations were set up throughout Italy,many of them organised by political groups.Another important feature of Italiansquatting is the strong link with local factories.To survive initial police opposition squats have tobe organised in advance, and this has often beendone from within factories. Sometimes, afterevictions, blocks have to be re-squatted severaltimes until the police give up. In Milan andTurin squatters have often been migrantworkers and families who have moved from thepoverty-stricken south of Italy to find work.In 1973 in Palermo, building workers movedwith their families into a block of flats whichthey had just finished building!Trade unionists, immigrants and politicalparties have not been the only people to beinvolved in squatting. The rapidly expandingItalian women’s movement has established feministcentres in several cities by squatting. In Milanfor example, the Teresa Batista Commune of about50 women was set up in a disused palazzo in thecentre of the city in May 1976. The womenexplained to journalists ‘we have seized thehousing which this city denies us because we makea living from precarious jobs at low salaries andbecause we are the worst hit by unemployment.’ 19They pointed out that landlords sometimesrefused to let flats to groups of women on thegrounds that a group of women would only wantto live together to set up a brothel. For severalyears the squatted Casa delle Donne (Women’sHouse) in Rome has been both a place for womento live and an organising centre for the women’smovement.In the late seventies there were fewer newoccupations of empty buildings. Like in Germany‘terrorist’ outrages have made fringe activities andalternative experiments difficult or even dangerous.Other developed countriesIn developed capitalist cities outside westernEurope there has also been squatting in buildings.In the United States there has been very littlesquatting in the last few years. As in some othercountries where the police can evict immediately,most squatting has been a tactical action to drawattention to housing conditions rather than a wayfor people to house themselves. In 1969 and 1970however, there was a wave of squatting in NewYork. This resulted from the fact that privateblocks of flats are taken over by the city authoritiesif local rates have not been paid for a longtime. New York is full of privately-owned blocksin a bad state of disrepair. Landlords, realisingtheir buildings were too expensive to repair andvirtually worthless, would collect rent and ratesfrom the tenants but not pay the rates to the cityauthorities, hoping to make more money than theThe authorities in Vancouver, Canada, end a long battlewith a squatter on the seashore by burning down thehouse while the squatter is out 1974.Tom BurrowsYoung couples squat in newly built empty apartmentblocks in Tel Aviv, Israel, to dramatise their housingdifficulties, 1971.building was worth before the city authoritiesconfiscated it. When people realised this washappening, they would stop paying rent andsquatters would occupy any empty flats. Thesquatters in these “blighted’ New York blockswere mostly blacks or Puerto Ricans. A few ofthe occupations lasted for several years like onein Manhattan where 80 families stayed for fiveyears. 20In Canada between the Second World War and1971 the affluent city of Vancouver cleared theshacks of about 20,000 squatters from the waterfront.A new community has been set up onnearby Hornby island, partly by the displacedwaterfront squatters. The houses are self-builtfrom the endless supplies of driftwood whichwash up on the beaches. 21In Australia, the law on squatting is similar tothat in Britain. In the North Fitzroy area ofMelbourne there was some squatting by a women’sgroup during 1975 and 1976. In Canberra, in 1974a disused barracks was squatted, and squatters inSydney have benefitted from the support of thelocal building workers. Going beyond traditionalpreoccupations of pay and working conditions, theunions there imposed ‘green bans’ whereby theyrefused to take part in demolition or constructionwhich they regarded as environmentally damaging.Thus building workers supported squatters inAssociated PressVictoria Street, in the Woolloomooloo district ofSydney in 1973 and 1974. The struggle exposedextensive corruption, Mafia links withspeculators and extensive financial wheeling anddealing. This encouraging intervention byworkers in wider issues has been copied in alimited way in Britain, notably over the proposeddemolition of Birmingham Post Office.It is difficult to know how to categorise theroof-top squatters in Hong Kong (still a Britishcolony) who numbered about 50,000 in 1972. 22Squatters are defined by the authorities there as‘occupants of any illegal structure on Crown Land,including pavement dwellers (but not summerstreet sleepers), occupants of caves and tunnels,roof-top and other squatters on private land,marine squatters in derelict boats or hulks’ 23There were almost 275,000 of these people in1975. 24Roof-top squatters in Hong Kong, 1978.Communist countriesWe know that there are community actionstruggles in Eastern Europe, but is there anyseizure of property which could be described assquatting? Rumours have reached the West thatthere has been some squatting in Poland, but inthe USSR authorities have consistently denied theexistence of squatting in their country. In Yugoslavia,however, there has definitely been somesquatting. In Ljubljana most squatters aremigrants from the south of the country who occupypublicly-owned empty flats. They maintain a lowprofile and have not organised collectively.In the winter of 1977-8 there was a wellpublicisedsquat. A group of 25 young people,mainly students, took over a large house in thecentre of Ljubljana. Following critical articles inthe media which tried to discredit the action byaccusing them of stealing property andprovoking ‘anarchy in society’, the squatters leftafter a fortnight.In East Berlin there is a ‘homesteading’programme similar to the Greater LondonCouncil’s scheme (p 89). Neighbourhood councilslet groups of young East Berliners live rent-freein previously empty and decaying properties oncondition that they renovate them. Suchprogrammes are a step towards making betteruse of available resources and could beconsidered as an official version of squatting.SummaryThe pattern of squatting throughout the world isa myriad of struggles. Each country has its owntraditions, laws, political and social system andlevel of economic development. Nevertheless thereare a few meaningful and useful generalisations.Throughout the cities of the developed world,similar developments have been taking place: thebuilding of motorways through working-classneighbourhoods, the decanting of people fromtheir traditional communities into alienating andisolating high-rise environments, and theconstruction of massive office developments. Inopposition to these and to demand adequatehousing and social facilities a dramatic upsurge ofdirect action has taken place in the last ten yearswith campaigns on such diverse issues as nuclearpower, gay rights and high rents. Similarly, theestablished orders have had to devise newstrategies for dealing with the ‘threat’. Britain isone of the countries where the standard techniqueshas been to co-opt the activists and defuse thestruggle rather than confront them head-on.Not only are similar battles being fought allover the world, but in many cases they are againstthe same enemy. For example, during the 1950s,British property developers evolved a particularlybrutal and effective technique of making vastprofits from office building. Neither the decliningBritish economy nor public outrage over theeffects on the environment stopped them; theysimply moved on to new pastures – first to otherEuropean countries like the Netherlands, andmore recently to Australia and South America.It has been difficult enough for squatters toorganise on a national basis let alone an internationalone. Yet, some links between squattingscampaigns in different countries have been made.Dutch, Swedish and British squatters haveseveral times demonstrated solidarity with oneanother at embassy demonstrations. Squattersfrom Christiania toured Europe showing filmsand slides and consequently, when the Free Townfaced eviction, squatters from many countriestravelled to support them. Coverage in the mediahas helped to spread squatting to othercountries. For example, the growing movement inWest Germany was partly inspired by the sighton TV of Dutch squatters triumphing over theauthorities. Informal links such as visits abroadby squatting activists have also proved to be animportant source of information and inspiration.This brief outline of squatting around theworld has uncovered marked differences bothbetween the various movements and even withineach country. For example, in Holland, Denmarkand West Germany, most squatters have beenyoung people often with strong political motivesand seeking to live in a way that only squattingenables them to do. Squatters in other countrieslike France or Yugoslavia have often beenmigrants faced with little prospect of findinghousing and yet others, like in the United States,began to squat virtually by mistake. Squatters inPortugal were at the forefront of a revolutionarymovement which the Western Alliance saw as athreat whilst squatters in Italy are dismissed bythe Communist Party as a trivial diversion.Private control of landed property is one of thebasic features of a capitalist system; and landedproperty has become an increasing proportion ofwealth in capitalist countries, for example from20 per cent to 26 per cent during the sixties inBritain. 25 The basic drive of squatting in allcorners of the world has been the fight foreveryone to have the use of a decent home orpiece of land, and this has meant that it hasexposed bad housing conditions and the unjustdistribution of housing resources. In London,Milan, Buenos Aires and Lagos, there is a vastdisparity between good housing and bad housing,sparking off the demand that housing should beallocated not on the basis of private wealth andeconomic power, but according to need. Squattingby itself does not do this – it cannot because it isarbitrary and piecemeal – but it is a step towardsreasonable conditions for some of the poorestpeople. Squatting is only a temporary solutionbut as a component of progressive change in latecapitalism it will continue to be significant. •218219

The backgroundThe housing crisisA short summaryEmpty propertyFacts and figuresMyth and factStatistics on squatting and squatters220 221

The housing crisisA short summary‘The government has failed to accept the principlethat everyone has the right to a home and as aresult has not given the provision of housing foreverybody the priority it requires. In our view in acivilised society one of the essential rights of everyperson should be the right to a decent home. Thisright has not been recognised by our society and sopeople have been forced into squatting. Squattingis not separate from the housing problem but partof it and can only be solved with it.’(Squatting, trespass and civil liberties NationalCouncil for Civil Liberties, January 1976).There is no date to which the start of the housingcrisis can be traced. Ever since our ancestorsmoved out of their caves and jumped from theirtrees, there has probably been a shortage of decentaccommodation in Britain. Certainly, in modernhistory, there is no year which can be selected as aperiod when there was not a shortfall of housing.Indeed, by most criteria, the inhabitants of ourdensely populated island are better housed nowthan at any time in recent history. There are fewerhouses in disrepair, a higher proportion of moremodern housing and less overcrowding. Yet, thereis no doubt that there is still a terrible housingcrisis. There is a large unmet demand for goodclean, dry, well-designed housing in the rightplaces. There is too, a seemingly endless stream ofhomeless and badly housed people whose needsare never likely to be properly met even if mostdo, eventually, end up under some type of roof.As this book goes to press, we are at a watershed.Whilst the Labour Government of 1974-9substantially cut spending on housing, the Torieselected in 1979 are now paring it down to a bareminimum virtually putting an end to the buildingof council houses. So whilst we are still reapingthe benefits of housing schemes started during theLabour years, the supply will soon dry up. Wewill then enter a ‘new housing crisis’ whosedimensions we can only estimate. The factspresented in this brief summary must be viewedin the context that things are going to get worse.They refer to England and Wales only, exceptwhere otherwise indicated.Cartoonfrom“TheStar”Sept 181946.Housing needIt is difficult to obtain an accurate picture of thenature of the housing shortage without going intoa lot of technical detail that would be inappropriatehere. To give one example, it is actually very difficultto assess housing need. The sort of questionsthat have to be asked are: What amount of spaceshould each person/family have? Where do peoplewant to live? Are people who are currently sharingwith another household doing so voluntarily ordo they want their own accommodation? Is thepopulation increasing? There are numerous otherquestions that have to be answered before anyfirm statements can be made.What is clear from available information is thatoverall there is a shortage of housing. The lastcomprehensive assessment of housing need wasproduced by the Labour Government in its GreenPaper on Housing 1 published in 1977. It estimatedthat a programme of about 300,000 new homes inEngland and Wales per year was needed to ensurea continued improvement in housing conditions.That year the target was already well out of reachwith 267,000 homes in Great Britain (236,000 inEngland and Wales) being started. But by 1980,construction levels were running at only about160,000 new homes per year and the Green Paper’sfigure appears to be an impossible dream (seetable 1). A report by a Parliamentary Committee 2published in the summer of 1980 estimated thatby the mid-eighties, there would be a shortfall ofhalf a million homes in England and Wales.Table 1Housing starts 1945-1980 in Great Britain(1,000s)19511955196019651970197519761977197819791980 (prediction)Council*1921851261811541741711321078050Private27128183211165149155135157140110(Source: Housing Statistics, Housing andConstruction Statistics, DOE)* including housing associationsTotal219313309392319323325267265220160As was noted above, in a sense we’ve never hadit so good. The massive post-war buildingprogramme brought reasonably decent housingto a lot of people who had hitherto lived insqualor. In 1951 there were just over eightmillion households living in unfit, substandardor overcrowded conditions. In 1976 this numberhad fallen to 800,000 3 . In the mid-sixties thenumber of homes became greater than thenumber of households for the first time in livingmemory (probably since the plague). Thedifference has gradually increased and by 1977there were 20.8 million homes and yet only 20mhouseholds, a surplus of 800,000. Surprisingly,this does not mean that there is no overallshortage, nor does it mean that there is nohomelessness. Therather rosy statistics have tobe qualified in a number of ways:• It has been variously estimated that thereare between 550,000 and 770,000 4 homes empty(see next chapter on empty property).• There are almost 150,000 5 second homeswhich are used only for holidays and week-ends.• There are an unknown number of ‘hiddenhouseholds’ – people living with friends orrelatives who would prefer to have their ownaccommodation if it were available at a pricethey could afford.• Many houses are in the wrong place as peopledon’t want to live there as there are no jobs.The condition of the housing stock must alsobe considered when looking at the balancebetween demand and supply. According to thelatest statistics available 6 there are:• 900,000 homes officially categorised as ‘unfitfor human habitation’, 700,000 of which areoccupied.• Over one million homes officially catesorisedas fit but needing at least £1,000 (1976 prices)spent on repairs to bring them up to standard.• Almost one million homes lacking at leastone or more basic amenities like hot water or abath.• Even a lot of the housing built since the waris in a bad condition. Tower blocks in particularhave degenerated quickly and several havealready been demolished less than 20 years afterconstruction. Many new council estates havebeen so badly designed that dampness developsas soon as they are built.The construction rate has already been examinedabove but the rate at which houses are improvedor renovated is another important indicator ofwhether housing conditions are improving. Indeed,the improvement rate increased during 1979 and1980 after a decline for several years but it ishardly keeping up with the rate at which housesare becoming unfit. In 1979 160,000 houses wererenovated and 30,000 demolished in England 7 butit is estimated that 150,000 per year are becomingunfit 8 making the net gain quite small (table 2).Also, once the cuts implemented by the ConservativeGovernment start to affect the number ofrenovations, the result may well be that more housesstart to become unfit than are being repaired.Table 2Renovations with the aid of agrant or subsidy in England(both public and private)(thousands)1974 2701975 1261976 1211977 1131978 1341979 160(Source: Housing and Construction Statistics DOE)All these facts present a sad indictment of thefailure of successive governments to meet housingneed. The situation they present was accuratelysummed up in the Green Paper: ‘One in ten(households in England and Wales) are living incircumstances which are just not acceptable bycontemporary standards. This is the hard core ofhousing need, and it shades into housingconditions which though less unsatisfactory arenot good enough and ought to be improved.’ 9It would be appropriate to have statistics forthe number of people actually homeless. There aretwo problems here First, it is almost as difficultto define homelessness as it is to define housingneed. All people living in intolerable conditionsare in a sense homeless. People living in bed andbreakfast hotels and hostels as well as thoseliterally tramping the streets can also be consideredhomeless. Secondly, no statistics covering allhomeless are available. The only ones that areproduced cover only a fraction of the homeless –namely families and other households who havebeen accepted as homeless by a council and offeredaccommodation (table 3). These figures completelyignore those people who are not normally eligiblefor council housing – single people, childlesscouples and those with no children under the ageof 16. Indeed, CHAR, the campaign for the singlehomeless, estimates that there are at least 100,000people sleeping rough or in hostels, lodging housesand resettlement units (‘spikes’) or living in institutionslike mental hospitals and prisons for noother reason than they have nowhere else to go.CHAR admits that this figure is a ‘guesstimate’which, if anything, errs on the conservative side.A new law, the Housing (Homeless Persons) Act,came into force at the end of 1977 and made it aduty for councils to take in certain categories ofhomeless people: families with children, pregnantwomen, old people and people vulnerable throughage or health. As can be seen from table 3, thenumber of homeless leaped in 1978, the first fullyear of its operation. This can be partly explainedby a change in the procedure of collecting statisticsbut it also shows a real increase in the number ofhomeless, many of whom might have been rejectedby councils before the Act came into force. However,far from guaranteeing housing for all, the Actexcludes not only people without children but alsofamilies who are deemed to have made themselves‘intentionally homeless’ (ie those who in the council’sview, have left accommodation by choice).The exact definition of intentionality is open to avariety of interpretations and some councils haveused it to exclude people evicted because of rentarrears, those who have moved to look for employment,people sacked from jobs with tied accommodation,etc. This explains why a large proportionof squatters are people with children (see p 233)despite the existence of an Act which wouldappear to give them a right to council housing.Table 3Number of homeless households accepted bycouncils (England)1976 33,7201977 31,8101978 53,1101979 56,020(Source: Housing and Construction Statistics DOE)222223

The housing crisis cannot be conceived only interms of numbers. Too much housing is designed,regulated and managed by people who have littlein common with those who live there and evenless understanding of their needs. Except for thevery rich, there is not much opportunity forpeople to influence the nature of their housingand provision is only made for people who arehappy to live in privatised and standardisedunits designed for nuclear families. As there isstill so much homelessnes, it is hardly surprisingthat most attention is focused on the quantity ofhousing. But, even if there were ‘housing for all’,there would still be a housing crisis, albeit of adifferent kind – one of quality and control.The optionsHomelessness can best be brought into focus byconsidering the options, or rather the lack ofthem, for people without anywhere to live. Justover half the population live in owner occupiedhouses in this country, a third are in councilhousing and most of the rest rent privately orfrom housing associations financed bygovernment subsidy. Can homeless people getaccess to any of these types of housing? Theoptions open to them are extremely limited:• Buying. An average house or flat in the summerof 1980 cost £23,000 10 (£29,000 in London)whilst the average wage was £6,000 11 per year.Since the maximum mortgage granted by buildingsocieties is between 2 1 /4 and 2 3 /4 times the lender’sincome (depending on the mortgage rate), andthe societies require a substantial initial deposit,house purchase is clearly not an option open tomost people in middle, let, alone low, incomebrackets.• Renting from a council. People covered by theHousing (Homeless Persons) Act who are homelesshave a right to a council home. Yet, thousandswho should be taken in are refused because, forexample, they cannot get a job in the area wherethe council has offered them a home or they arejudged to be intentionally homeless. And, althoughcouncils usually accept single people and childlesscouples onto their waiting lists, they house veryfew people who are not covered by the Act. Also,councils do not generally take in people who areliving in overcrowded or bad conditions who, if awider definition of homelessness is accepted,should have a right to be housed. These peoplecan only sign on a waiting list and hope to reachthe top of it. But waiting lists are increasinglybecoming a mere bureaucratic device to trickpeople into believing that they have a hope of adecent house. In 1978, a million households hadsigned on to a waiting list 12 but only a tinyproportion could expect ever to obtain a councilhouse. Most council houses that become availableare let to homeless people who get priority or tothose ‘decanted’ from development areas. Mostcouncils operate points systems based on thestate of the applicant’s present housing and onlypeople with lots of points (ie those in the worsthousing) will stand a chance of being rehoused.• Renting from a housing association.Housing associations experienced a rapid growthin the second half of the seventies thanks tomassive injections of government money. Most ofthe people accepted by housing associations havebeen referred to them by councils andassociations operate very similar allocationpolicies. With the exception of a few housingassociations which specialise in housing singlepeople, a liousing association tenancy is notnormally an option open to people who are notcovered by the Housing (Homeless Persons) Act.• Renting from a private landlord. There isvery little private rented accommodation. Althoughin 1914, 90 per cent of the population rentedprivately, now only just over 10 per cent of thepopulation live in this type of accommodation. 13 Althoughthe Rent Act is supposed to protect peoplewho rent privately by giving them security of tenureand controlling the rent level, in practice thereis so much demand for it that people are oftenprepared to sign their rights away and pay exorbitantrents just to get a place to live. Privatelandlords normally only let to people withoutchildren so renting privately is not an optionopen to families.• Other types of housing. There are a fewother types of tenure which form a tiny percentageof the housing stock and normally require a lot ofeffort (and luck) to get a home. Self-build is ruledout as an option for those in greatest need by highland costs, rigid planning laws and lack of finance.(Nevertheless, one company specialising in themanagement of self-build schemes estimated that215 self-build houses were completed in 1979 14 .)A group of seven or more people can form a co-opto house themselves and while the number ofpeople doing this has increased over the past fewyears, it is still extremely difficult to overcomethe bureaucratic hurdles and obtain the finance.It is clear that one of the main options for thebadly housed and the homeless is a council orhousing association home. But far fromrecognising that need, successive governmentshave reduced spending on housing (table 4).Table 4Government spending on housing (at 1979prices)(actual) £ million1974/5 7,1541975/6 6,2991976/7 6,2621977/8 5,5191978/9 5,2561979/80 5,372(projected)1980/1 4,7001981/2 3,8401982/3 3,2501983/4 2,790(Source: Government Expenditure Plans 1980/1 –1983/4)These figures are the annual spending onhousing except for mortgage tax relief. Most ofthis money is spent on repaying debts, interestcharges, rent rebates and other non-buildinghousing costs. Only a small proportion is spenton bricks and mortar (and this proportion will beeven smaller as total spending falls because mostof the non-building spending like rent rebates anddebt and interest charges cannot be reduced).The effect of these cuts on an already gloomysituation hardly needs to be spelt out. Waitinglists become even more of a sick joke than theyalready are. Many councils, particularly in largetowns, are already at the point where they canonly cope with the demands of those theyconsider to be homeless. The needs of the badlyhoused remain unmet and soon, councils mightdecide to shirk their responsibilities with theresult that, once again there will be homelesschildren walking the streets.This brief section demonstrates that howevermuch propaganda has been produced bysuccessive governments implying the housingcrisis has been consigned to history, the reality ofthat crisis is still with us. Lack of adequatehousing has always been the underlying cause ofsquatting. Housing is one of the most importantbasic needs and it is difficult to lead a happy andfulfilling life without a decent home. That somany people are still denied access to one is anational scandal and the best possible argumentin favour of an organised squatting movement. •9,0008,0007,0006,0005,0004,0003,0002,0001,0000£ million (1979 prices)defencehousingFinancial year1974/75 1975/76 1976/77 1977/78 1978/79 1979/80 1980/81 1981/82 1982/83 1983/84Government spending 1975-1984(Source: The Government’s Expenditure Plans, 1980/81 to 1983/84, HMSO, 1980. Note: Figures from 1980 onwardsare estimates. Total government expenditure is expected to be at the same level in 1983/84 as it was in 1974/75.)224225

Empty propertyFacts and figuresTable 1 – Empty property surveys in England and WalesArea Number of empty homes DateEngland 1 and 2 550,000 – 770,000 1977Greater London 3 72,000 (houses empty 1975for three months)Cambridge 4 300 (within a mile of the 1977city centre)Cardiff 5 725 1977Kensington andChelsea 6 (London) 3,557 (floors) 1978North Wiltshire 7 794 (private property only) 1974Nottingham 8 4,400 (4.5 per cent of housing 1977stock)Sheffield 9 2,561 (central area) 1976South Brent 10 1,621 1977Southwark 11 1,066 1975(London)(three wards only)Table 2 – Length of time property was left emptyArea Survey results DateEngland 1 66 per cent of dwellings had 1977been empty for more than 3 months,21 per cent for more than 2 years and7 per cent for more than 5 yearsEngland 12 100,000 empty of which 22,000 1979had been empty a year previouslyExeter 13 177 properties empty for 6 months, 1976a third of which had been empty for2 yearsIslington 14 2,262 dwellings empty for 6 months, 1975805 of which had been empty for2 yearsNorth Wiltshire 7 550 of the 794 houses were still 1974empty 18 months laterOxford 15 Of 40 empty properties, 16 had 1976been empty for a year and 5for 5 yearsPaddington 16 3,048 empty properties of which 953 1974had been empty 2 years beforeSouthwark 1786 per cent of empty houses hadbeen empty 6 months previously20,00016,00012,0008,0004,000‘The best way of preventing a property from beingsquatted is to see that it is occupied, and that theperiod for which any property has to be empty iskept to a minimum.’ (Department of theEnvironment Consultation Paper on Squatting,August 1975).How many?Official figures consistently show the existence ofsubstantial amount of empty property. There hasbeen no comprehensive survey since the 1971Census which identified 675,000 vacant homes.More recent estimates range from the 1977Labour Force Survey’s figure of 770,000 2 to 550,000given in the Vacant Property Survey 1 which useda tighter definition of ‘empty’. The NationalDwelling and Housing Survey 18 also carried outin 1977, gave a figure of 750,000 vacant homes.All three surveys relate to England only.Whatever the precise figures, there hascertainly been a large rise in the number ofempty homes during the past 25 years. Thegraph below shows this for Birmingham.The Census showed that empty homes wereconcentrated in certain areas, notably remote ruralregions (e g Cornwall where 7.4 per cent of homeswere empty) and some inner city areas (such asLambeth, Islington and Lewisham in London).4321Local surveys, often undertaken by voluntarygroups are the only more recent source of data,though some information on regional variationshas become available. 1 Some examples are given intable 1, and table 2 shows that a large proportionof empty homes are vacant for long periods.Surveys by voluntary local groups tend tounderstate the number of empty homes, mainlybecause the people doing the survey are unableto gain access to property. Many owners disguisetheir empty property, say by putting up curtains,in order to deter squatters and vandals.Nevertheless, figures from local groups are morelikely to produce accurate figures than thoseprovided by local authorities as the latter tend tobe obtained from the rating list or are pureguesswork. The rating list is notoriouslyunreliable because many owners do not notify thecouncil when their property is empty (particularlyif the council charges the same rates on emptyand occupied property) and because many emptyproperties, eg those awaiting demolition, aretaken off the list entirely.Local authorities are also very unreliable whenestimating the number of their own propertieswhich are empty. For example, in the 1975 LondonBoroughs Association survey, Lewisham councilclaimed to have only 27 empty properties.Yet, RonBailey 19 was able to list 34 properties in a handfulof streets that had been empty for over threeyears and it is obvious that for a large authoritylike Lewisham with a lot of redevelop-ment workin progress, such a low figure is plainly ridiculous.This type of underestimate puts into question thevalue of such surveys. Neverthe-less, althoughempty property statistics vary in reliability, theypaint an overall picture that demonstrates one ofthe main causes of the prevalence of squatting.0Date01955 1960 1965 1970 1973Who owns empty homes?Unfortunately the Census data does not distinguishbetween the public and private sectors. ThePercentage of housing stock emptyGLC figures for 1975 suggest that the privatesector is overwhelmingly to blame for the largeNumber of housesprivate sectorpublic sectorHow long empty – months3-6 6-12 12-24 over 24Empty property in London (GLC figures). 3number of empty houses in London. Of 72,000homes empty for over three months, 60,000 wereprivately-owned. 3 According to these figures,there were five times as many privately-ownedempty dwellings as publicly-owned ones.However, it is difficult to take these figures atface value in view of the local authorities’tendency to underestimate their own emptydwellings. Other surveys have painted a ratherdifferent picture. For example,• One survey found that while Southwark andthe GLC combined owned 60 per cent of thehouses in three wards, they owned 75 per centof the empty dwellings. 17• Of 2,561 empty houses in the Sheffieldsurvey, no less than 2,414 were owned by thelocal council. 9• 32 per cent of dwellings identified as emptyin Kensington and Chelsea were publiclyownedand only 11 per cent of property in theborough is owned by the Council and theGLC. 3Obviously in rural areas the vast majority ofempty property tends to be in private handswhich is more a reflection of ownership patternsthan anything else.The balance of ownership of empty propertyvaries greatly according to local conditions, butwhile the GLC figures give a distorted view of thisbalance, there is little doubt that the belief thatlocal authorities are the worst offenders in keepingproperty empty is a misconception. Private ownersare worse as shown by the Vacant PropertySurvey 1 which found that although only 13 percent of the housing stock is rented privately, 40per cent of empty homes came from that sector.Councils owned only 21 per cent of empty homeswhile owning 31 per cent of occupied dwellings.The equivalent figures for owner occupied homeswere 32 per cent and 56 per cent.The cost of empty housesEmpty property costs money in a number ofways. There is a loss of rent income, and usuallya reduction or loss of rates revenue too. It wasestimated in 1980 that Islington Council waslosing at least £45,000 per week in rent andrates from its 3,000 empty dwellings. 20Empty houses also have more direct costs. Itis expensive to board up empty properties, to se¬cure them after vandals or thieves have brokenin, to clear away rubbish that is inevitablydumped in gardens, and to ‘gut’ them to preventsquatting. If it is intended to use them again,there is the cost of deterioration while they standempty. In many urban areas, houses left emptyfor more than a few weeks have windowssmashed by kids and wiring and piping stolen bythieves. Lead flashing is stolen from roofs andrain then causes severe damage. HollowayTenants Co-op estimated the cost of keeping ahouse in Hornsey Rise Gardens, Islington, emptyfor 22 months (October 1976 – August 1978) as£2,400, over £40 per week. This was made up bythe costs of securing the house, vandalism andrates. Similarly, Islington Council found that twoflats left empty for four years cost over £9,000. 20And while properties stand empty, both localand central government spend fortunes onrunning hostels and other unsatisfactoryaccommodation for homeless people. The averagecost of running hostels and reception centres forthe homeless in 1977 (excluding capital costs)was approximately £30 per week for eachfamily. 21 The cost of putting homeless families inbed and breakfast hotels is still higher. In 1974,according to DHSS returns, it was £40 per week,and it is now likely to be over double.During the period 1970-76, 15,538 childrenwere taken into care because of their parents’homelessness. Since the weekly cost of keeping achild in care was around £36 per week, and assumingan average stay of seven weeks, the total costover the period was £4 million quite apart fromthe traumatic effect on both parents and children.Keeping property empty, then, is a significantdrain upon funds, since public bodies must usemore expensive alternative accommodation.In addition to the financial cost of emptyhouses, there is an enormous social cost. Emptyhouses are unpleasant for neighbours; theyattract vermin which once established do notdifferentiate between empty houses and occupieones and they become damp. They are a cause ofworry and concern to local people as a firehazard and they attract vandals and thieves.Where many houses are empty in the same area,shops and other community facilities may beforced to close because of dwindling custom.Why property is empty - public sectorOf course a certain amount of empty property isinevitable when houses are rehabilitated or peoplemove. Councils reckon that a vacancy rate of fourper cent is reasonable in their own property,though with efficient management and quickerlettings, a much lower rate could be achieved.There are three major categories of empty propertyin the public sector: properties purchased forslum clearance, road schemes or other forms ofredevelopment; properties awaiting improvementor renovation; and properties between lettings.There are a variety of reasons why all thesecategories of property are left empty for longperiods. Here are a few of them, some of whichapply to all types and others which are specific tosome of the categories outlined above.Lengthy purchase periodsIn large redevelopment or renovation schemes,houses are normally purchased by councils overa period of years and problems over buyingindividual dwellings can hold up an entirescheme, particularly because of the lengthyprocedures attached to compulsory purchases andappeals. Since councils do not find it convenientto manage property on the basis of short- ormedium-term lettings, houses acquired during thebeginning of the purchase period tend to remainempty until the whole area is ready for demolition.Policy and planning changesThese have been particularly significant in recentyears due to different approaches to planning orchanges in political control at both national orlocal levels. In particular, the widespread switchfrom wholesale redevelopment towards rehabilitationhas resulted in extensive delays while plansare redrawn. Cuts in public expenditure have alsoled to schemes being scrapped or delayed, andthose councils which purchased large numbers ofsubstandard properties following the election ofthe Labour Government in 1974 found themselvesunable to meet their rehabilitation programmesbecause of subsequent cuts. On a local226227

level, specific circumstances can bring aboutchanges of plan which lengthen the time for whichproperty lies empty. Road schemes are particularlysusceptible to frequent alterations according, forexample, to the financial situation, the compositionof local or central government and environmentallobbying. Some schemes are planned yearsin advance of money being available to financethem or permission being granted. According tothe National Empty Homes Campaign, for example,some houses in Birmingham remain emptyin preparation for road schemes planned in 1946.The building industryApart from technical difficulties which can wastetime, the chaotic state of the building industryresults in extensive delays. A typical constructionproject will involve dozens of sub-contractors, eachdealing with specific tasks and all dependent uponthe efficient operation of the others. A strike or asupply problem affecting one sub-contractor canhold up the work of the others. Because localauthorities are compelled to accept the lowesttender for any job, they often have to deal withfirms who bankrupt themselves in the process oftrying to meet the tender. These difficulties notonly result in property due for renovation beingempty for long periods, but also lead to delaysbetween demolition and redevelopment.ScaleThe large scale of projects is a key factor inproperties remaining empty for long periods. ALondon Boroughs Association paper commentedin 1975 that management problems ‘multiplyexponentially with the size of programmes beingmounted’. 22 The financial (let alone social) cost oflost accommodation due to the size of schemes isseldom taken into account when discussing theirso-called ‘economies of scale’.BureaucracyDelays result from the division of responsibilitiesin council bureaucracies between different officialsand offices, aggravated by a lack of detailed localknowledge. Responsibility for repairs, allocations,maintenance, rent collection, evictions and othertasks are frequently in the hands of separateofficials and departments possibly located inoffices far from the properties concened. TheBradford Housing Action Group has even shownthat the reason housing on some estates inBradford is empty for so long is not a reflectionof letting problems per se, but the time taken toidentify empty property. In other words, thecouncil allocations section is not aware of whenflats become empty. It is a common problem, andthere are even cases of councils not being awarethat they own a particular house at all!Power structuresThe decision-making structure of localgovernment is extremely cumbersome andconfused. Sometimes, it is not clear in whichcommittee a decision should be taken and, onother occasions, relatively minor decisions haveto be ratified by a number of different people orby committees which meet only infrequently. Inturn, these decisions may then have to be agreedupon by a full council meeting or even referred tocentral government. There is little room forflexibility or personal initiative. Successfulcareers are had by local government officers whodo not make mistakes or take controversialdecisions, not by those with a flair for experimentor imagination. Keeping property empty is safer,and the outcome, unless squatters move in, morepredictable and manageable.Allocations systemsBureaucratic rigidity is added to by the inflexibilityof council allocation systems. Many properties areempty because of the refusal of local authoritiesto acknowledge that housing which is unsuitablefor normal categories of waiting list applicantswould be gratefully accepted by other people. Forexample, young, childless people are frequentlywilling – and may even wish – to live in housingwhich is unsuitable for people with children. AShelter survey in 1980 revealed that according tothe councils’ own estimates, they owned 250,000difficult-to-let homes. 12Lack of willWhile it is inevitable that a small proportion ofproperty will always have to be empty at anygiven time, there is little excuse at a time ofhousing shortage for the large amount of emptyproperty, or the length of time for which much ofit stays empty. Government policy has beenmade clear on a number of occasions. Forinstance, under the Conservatives in 1974 theDepartment of the Environment issued acircular 23 which stated:‘Maximum use should be made of short-lifeproperty acquired for such purposes as redevelopmentor roadworks . . . Authorities shouldnot abandon or board up properties prematurelyor leave them for vandals . . . [They should]use properties awaiting development on atemporary basis . . . [andl work with localhousing associations or voluntary bodiesincluding reliable squatter organisations.’This was reinforced by a Labour Governmentcircular 24 in 1977 which stated:‘Whenever a local authority holds or acquiresresidential property for redevelopment . . .this property should be used as livingaccommodation for the longest possible time.’Too little attention has been paid to eithercircular. The over-riding problem is the lack ofwill or determination of elected councillors andcouncil officers to ensure that property is used tothe maximum extent possible, and the absence oflegislation to make them do so.Councils are not the only public bodies withempty property. Public bodies such as health andeducation authorities sometimes own propertywhich is empty pending schemes that have had tobe scrapped or postponed due to public spendingcuts. In addition, public corporations, like BritishRail, the Post Office and British Waterways, ownlarge amounts of property for future developmentwhich they are unwilling to let. Other publicbodies own large amounts of empty housing. TheMinistry of Defence has thousands of units ofaccommodation for servicemen which are kept inreserve for any future evacuation of forces personnelfrom overseas and left empty in the meantime.These public bodies frequently suffer from thesame bureaucratic organisational problems ascouncils, referred to above. In addition, having nostatutory responsibility for housing they have littleincentive to use their empty property efficiently.Housing associations, though, are probably theworst offenders in the public sector after councils.One survey 16 by tenants of Paddington ChurchesHousing Association found 49 per cent of theassociation’s property in Paddington to be empty.Inefficiency and the rapid growth of someassociations are to blame as well as other factorsmentioned above as causes of empty councilhousing. Housing associations also suffer fromthe lengthy bureaucratic procedures they have tofulfil before obtaining grant approval for projects.Why property is empty – private sectorPublic sector empty property naturally arousesmost concern, simply because it is publicresources which are being wasted, but, as shownearlier, the private sector is probably more atfault. Private owners often claim that theirproperty is empty for reasons beyond theircontrol, and occasionally this may be true. Butagain the absence of any determination by ownersto make the best use of their property and thelack of any effective legislation to make them doso are the major underlying causes. Here are themain reasons for private property being empty.SpeculationSpeculative motives have always been at the rootof much property lying empty, reflecting theincreasing role that property plays as a financial,rather than a social asset. Speculators come indifferent sizes. At one extreme there are thegiant property development companies whichbuy up large areas of housing in the hope ofredeveloping or refurbishing for a moreprofitable use. In the process of assembling land,property can be left empty for years, bothbecause companies are not equipped to managehousing, and because they deliberately leave itempty to hasten the decline of the communityand deterioration of the buildings. Permission forredeveloping may then be easier to obtain fromthe relevant authorities. Then there are thespeculators who own property which they keepempty until the market is right for selling orletting. The constant changes in the propertymarket encourage this by making it beneficial forthe seller sometimes to withhold sale despitehigh interest rates. Speculation is not theprerogative of property companies; trade unionpension funds, insurance companies and buildingsocieties all invest their money in this way. Evenindividual owner occupiers get caught up in theupward spiralling value of property. Estateagents will advise sellers that their property isworth more than it really is, and sellers maywait for years in the hope of realising theinflated prices.Planning blightPrivate property is frequently left empty becauseplanners have indicated that it may be neededfor future development. People then become unwillingto invest in it and areas gradually declineas maintenance is not done.Security of tenureSecurity of tenure and statutory rent controlhave undoubtedly been responsible for someempty property. Landlords who, finding ituneconomic to rent out their property decide tosell it. Individual flats may then remain emptyfor years while the landlords try to persuade orharass the remaining tenants to leave in order tosell the whole building with vacant possession. Itis worth noting that contrary to what is oftensuggested, official figures show that only between8,000 and 31,000 homes are vacant because ofthe ‘impact of the Rent Acts’, much less than isusually claimed. 25Red liningBuilding societies ‘red line’ certain areas in whichthey refuse to give mortgages. This has the effectof increasing the number of empty properties assellers are unable to find buyers in those areas.Closing orders and listed buildingsProperty owners with closing orders on theirdwellings because of unfitness are often unwillingor unable to bring them up to the necessarystandard. These houses therefore remainunoccupied, often indefinitely or until bought bythe council.A similar situation occurs with certainlisted buildings whose owners do not want tospend money on renovation. They leave themempty, hoping they will deteriorate sufficientlyfor permission to be granted for demolition.Second homesParticularly in tourist areas, many houses areleft empty because they are owned by rich peoplewho live in the cities elsewhere for most of theyear. There are 200,000 second homes in the UKand the number is increasing by around 12,000each year. These are not included in statistics forempty homes.Bureaucratic delaysDelays in obtaining planning permission and homeimprovement grants are a frequent cause ofproperty remaining empty longer than necessary.Owners unknown and inheritance disputesA few buildings are empty for long periods becauseowners cannot be traced or are involved withliquidation or inheritance disputes. The ExeterHousing Action Group, for instance, found onehouse that had been empty for 20 years becauseits owner was in an old people’s home.13Prior demolitionOne alternative to leaving houses empty is toknock them down. There is not a single town inthe UK which does not have its share of derelictland, on which homes were demolished longbefore the sites were needed. Graffiti oncorrugated iron around one derelict plot inBrixton Road, Lambeth, tells its own story:• Jan 1975: 19 adults and 8 children living here• Mar 1975: evicted to build a footbridge• Sep 1975: £12,000 paid to demolition firm• Dec 1975: footbridge plan droppedThe site was still derelict at the beginning of 1980.Then there was the case of the Totterdowndistrict of Bristol:‘Here both the County Council and the localcouncil acquired properties for road schemesand other development . . . a total of 479properties were purchased. A question to AvonCounty Council and Bristol Council asking“How many empty houses do you own in theTotterdown area?” would produce the answer“Seven”. However, the question, “How manyoccupied houses do you own in the Totterdownarea?” would produce the answer “Two”. Theother 470 properties were demolished betweenone and three years ago; half of Totterdownhas been razed to the ground.The development schemes are not due tocommence for at least five years.’ 26‘Prior demolition’ is even worse than keepingproperty empty, because it removes thepossibility of putting pressure on owners to usethe houses. Local authorities sometimes evendemolish houses in a neighbourhood before thepublic inquiry into its future, thereby presentingresidents with a fait accompli. 27Solutions to empty propertyA vast number of ‘solutions’ have been putforward for reducing the amount of emptyproperty, ranging from requisitioning to speedingup bureaucratic procedures. Although some havebeen tried half-heartedly, there has never beenthe political will to make them effective. •228229

Myth and factStatistics on squatting and squatters50,00040,00030,00020,00010,0000Number of squattersWhat is a squatter?A squatter is a person who occupies land or emptybuildings without legal title and without payingrent. 1 Most recent squatting in Britain has consistedof people occupying buildings although therehave been some land squats,particularly by gypsiesand other travellers. In legal terms squatters aretrespassers. This does not mean they are committinga criminal offence as trespass is a civil matterand the concern of the owner and the trespasserrather than the police (except in Scotland, p 158).The term ‘licensed squatter’ is used many timesin this book. A licence means permission or authorityto do something so, in fact, the term is a misnomer;either people are squatters without permissionto be in the property or they are licenseeswho have been granted the right to be there by theowner. So what is a licensed squatter? The termis used in a specific way in this book (reflectingcommon usage) to refer to people who have permissionto occupy empty homes on a temporarybasis. They may be people who took over a houseas squatters but were given permission to stayby the owner or they may belong to a short lifehousing group which manages houses given to iton licence by the local council or a housingassociation. Licences may have variousconditions attached to them and some licenseeseven pay rent (though they are not covered bythe Rent Act) to the owner or the housing groupmanaging the property. Licences need not be inwriting and have sometimes been giveninadvertently by an owner who says, forexample, ‘You can stay until the summer’.Extent and growth of squattingAfter a slow growth initially, the number ofpeople squatting increased dramatically between1971 and 1975. It stayed constant for severalyears at the peak level of around 50,000 people.After 1977, the year in which a new law, theCriminal Law Act, was passed in an attempt toreduce the number of squatters, there was adownturn until 1979 when squatting started toincrease again. The graph shown here is anecessarily tentative attempt to plot the courseof squatting since 1969. 2Any estimate of the number of squatters isinevitably a matter of educated guesswork. Squatsare constantly being opened up or evicted; somelast for several years and others for only a fewhours and this makes it difficult to keep count ofthem. Also it can be in the best interests of squattersto keep their presence secret from peoplecarrying out surveys or asking for information.Therefore property owners, particularly largecompanies or councils, may well be unaware oftheir existence. There is no system for recordingthe number of squats in private property, andeven councils, when they have estimates at all1969 1970 1971 1972 1973 1974 1975 1976 1977 1978 1979 1980Extent of squatting in Britain, 1968-1980. 2Datehave consistently underestimated the number oftheir properties occupied by squatters.For instance, when the Greater London Councilgave an amnesty to all its squatters (p 89), itconducted a detailed survey which revealed1,438 squatted properties. In fact, during themonth it gave squatters to register, a further 400squats were made known by the occupierscoming forward to sign up for the amnesty. Inother words, it underestimated the number ofsquats in GLC property by almost a third. 3Or, in another example, in 1976 HaringeyCouncil supplied a supposedly comprehensivelist of its squatted properties to assist a survey4of squatting in the borough. On investigation, itturned out that of the 22 addresses supplied, 11were empty or demolished and one was tenanted.The survey revealed a further 21 council-ownedsquats of which Haringey was unaware.The graph of the growth of squatting is basedon estimates from organisations closely involvedin squatting, the limited number of availablesurveys and court records of possession orders (p160). One other ‘guesstimate’ helps to provide aninsight into the scale of the phenomenon ofsquatting. If the graph is at all accurate, then,assuming an average length of a squat is threemonths, over a quarter of a million peoplesquatted at some time in the seventies.Where people squatThe majority of both unlicensed and licensedsquatters since 1969 have been in London. By1975, for example, there were over 2,000 houseslicensed to squatters in London compared withunder 500 outside 5 and this imbalance has beena consistent feature of squatting throughout thepresent wave.Squatting is a mainly urban phenomenon.Even within towns, squatters have tended toconcentrate in specific districts. A survey 6 in1977 found that most squatting in Londonoccurred in 10 boroughs and in another 10 therewas hardly any. Within boroughs too, there hasfrequently been a marked concentration as in theHaringey survey mentioned above where overhalf the squats were in three wards.There are good reasons for this concentration.The most suitable properties for squatting arethose owned by local authorities or other largeinstitutions. They must also be in reasonablestructural condition and likely to remain emptyfor some time. Areas where large-scaleredevelopment or rehabilitation is planned oftencontain large numbers of houses well-suited onall these counts and likely to attract squatters.These districts also tend to be areas of housingstress where homelessness and overcrowding arecommon. Empty houses are likely to proveattractive to local people living in bad housingconditions particularly once a few of the mostdesperate have taken the plunge and startedsquatting. There is a snowball effect. As morepeople squat in a particular street, locality ortown, the stronger they become as a group, andthe less likely they are to be harassed or evicted.Information about how to squat, the location ofsuitable property and how to get servicesconnected becomes easier to obtain. The lack ofsuch effective information and support networksis partly responsible for the small amount ofsquatting in many towns outside London. Butthe main reason for the heavy concentration inthe capital is the peculiar nature of its housingproblems, and its unique role in attracting so manypeople seeking a better life and employment.Also, the size of the housing problem in Londonis, in terms of absolute homelessness (as opposedto housing conditions), the worst in the UK. 7Who owns the houses?Although there is always more empty privatelyownedthan publicly-owned property (see p 227),most squatting has taken place in publicly-ownedhousing and, in particular, council property. Thisis not because public bodies have shown anysympathy for squatters but because of theirpublic accountability. Squatters can embarrassthem by highlighting the existence of councilownedempty property. The fear of bad publicitycan make them unwilling to evict squatters fromhouses for which they have no plans and makethem unwilling to attempt strongarm tactics.The vast majority of squatted property isawaiting demolition or renovation. The muchpublicised notion of squatters jumping thehousing waiting list is therefore largely withoutfoundation but remains the root cause of muchresentment against squatters. Indeed, even ifthey do take over property that is about to be let,they can be evicted very quickly.The Haringey survey, for instance, found thatof 122 squats, only three were required by theCouncil as part of its permanent housing stock(ie ready to let) . Over half were privately ownedand those owned by Haringey were eitherawaiting renovation or demolition. The squatshad been empty, on average, for over six months.And a survey in 1975 of squatters in councilproperty commissioned by the Department of theEnvironment (DOE) found that only one sixth ofthe sample was in permanent stock and thateven much of this was regarded as ‘difficult-tolet’.8 The reality is not that squatters jump thehousing waiting list or deprive others of a homebut rather that they opt out of the queuealtogether and make use of houses that wouldotherwise be empty.Holiday squattersA lot of publicity has also been given to the taleof squatters who take over homes whilst theinhabitants are on holiday or even just outshopping. Again, this myth has generated afantastic amount of public hostility towardssquatting. Yet, there is no substantiated report ofit ever happening although many journalists andresearchers have tried to find examples.Both at a local and a national level, the ideahas been largely discounted except by a fewsensation-seeking politicians. For example, theLondon Boroughs Association reported inSeptember 1975: ‘The Association has had nogenuine cases of squatting in occupied propertydrawn to its attention and is forced to regardthis particular area of discussion as a red herring,if not deliberate scare-mongering.’ 9 And in parliament,Home Office Minister Brynmor John said inJune 1976, in reply to a question about squattersin occupied property: ‘The limited evidenceavailable suggests that instances of this kind ofsquatting are rare.’ 10 In fact squatters taking overoccupied property would receive short shrift fromthe law as the Metropolitan Police CommissionerSir Robert Mark made plain in 1975:‘In order to relieve any ill-founded publicanxiety resulting from recent press publicityabout squatting, I wish it to be known thatthe Metropolitan Police will have nohesitation in assisting the lawful occupiers offurnished accommodation to eject anyone inunauthorised occupation of it.’ 11Nevertheless, Parliament felt it necessary to230231

include in part of the Criminal Law Act, passed in1977, a section which made it a criminal offenceto squat occupied property. Needless to say, noonehas ever been charged with that offence. Yet,the Automobile Association continues to have aspart of its standard ‘five star’ insurance formotorists touring abroad, a clause which promisesto refund expenses caused by ‘unauthorisedoccupation by squatters’. There appears to havebeen no claims for such expenses.’ 12There have been some instances of squattersmoving into local authority or housingassociation property already allocated topermanent tenants. This is inevitable given thatit is normally impossible for a would-be squatterto find out whether a home is empty for a validreason or not, or how long it is likely to remainempty. Indeed, it is often impossible even to findout who owns an empty property as the LandRegistry is not open to the public and inevitablyproperty owners will claim that their emptyproperty is about to be used. Most squatters havemoved out willingly when they have discoveredthat the home they have just moved into is aboutto be let and squatting organisations havecriticised people who failed to do so (p 86). Thisis now covered by the Criminal Law Act whichmakes it an offence not to leave council-ownedproperty about to be let when asked to do so.Builders or wreckers?Squatters are frequently accused of causing damageto properties that they occupy but instanceTable 1Major repairs by squattersWork carried out on squats (DOE survey) 8PercentageWiring 35Plumbing/gas 32Roofing 15Replacing windows 38Replacing floorboards 12Repairing ceilings 8Redecoration 55Removing rubbish 25Plastering 13Other 1None 23Many squatters had undertaken more than oneof these repairs.of this have in fact been very rare. More typicallysquatters have greatly improved the houses theyoccupy. For example, the DOE survey found that71 per cent of squatters claimed to have madesome kind of improvement to the property theyoccupied and other surveys have confirmed this.Indeed, the very presence of squatters oftenprevents damage as empty houses are an easytarget for lead thieves, totters and vandals. Muchof the damage attributed to squatters is usuallydone before they move in or after they have gone.On several occasions, councils have blamedsquatters for damage done by their own workmen.Indeed, any damage squatters may havecaused pales into insignificance when comparedwith the deliberate destruction of habitablehouses (‘gutting’) by property owners, especiallycouncils, in trying to prevent squatting (p 52).When both the cost of deterioration in emptyhouses (p 227) and the improvements made bysquatters are taken into account, it is evidentthat squatters have added millions of pounds tothe value of the houses they have occupied.A burden on the ratepayer?In addition to allegations that squatters damageproperty, councils often attribute other costs tothem such as lost rates or rent revenue. Yet,since most of the squatted houses would haveotherwise been empty, they would not havegenerated any income.Most squatters,particularlythose who manage to stay for some time, payrates and that money more than offsets the lossof rent in those rare cases where squatters havemoved into property about to be let.Many of the real administrative costs attachedto squatters moving into council properties areavoidable. The cost of eviction proceedings, forexample, could be greatly reduced by flexiblepolicies whereby squatters would be allowed toremain in property until it was required andthen offered alternative short-life housing.If the cost of alternative accommodation inhostels, resettlement units or bed and breakfasthotels is taken into account, it is clear thatsquatters have actually saved councils largesums of money. The majority of squatters havebeen people with children and virtually all ofthese people should have been housed bycouncils were they not squatting. Since they wouldhave been put into expensive hostels or bed andbreakfast hotels which are subsidised bycouncils, the amount of money squatting hassaved councils is immense.Who are the squatters?‘The word ‘squatter’ is often used as though it is asingle genus. In fact, about the only safe statementin this field is that one cannot generalise aboutsquatters’. (Report by GLC Acting Head of theHousing Department, 28 May 1974)‘Squatters are not a homogenous group. Some,whether families or single people, have a genuineneed for housing . . . Some have politicalobjectives – either to influence central and localgovernment housing policies, or to bring aboutmore far-reaching changes. Others may prefer thelife-style of squatting and its cheapness; or theymay be existing council tenants trying to force thecoucil into giving them a transfer, or the childrenof tenants trying to obtain their tenancy. Yetothers may be disaffected groups or individualswho welcome the freedom and anonymity ofsquatting, may be passing through or tourists.The list could go on.’ (DOE Consultation Paperon Squatting, August 1975)‘The squatting population is largely composed ofthose to whom access to local authority housing isbarred, for whom ownership of their own home isimpossible or unsuitable, and for whom theprivate-rented sector is no longer a source ofcheap, adequate housing.’ (A survey of squatters,Mike Kinghan, August 1976)A great deal of opposition to squatters has beenfounded on ill-informed generalisations about thesort of people who squat. For example, it is oftensuggested that they are different from thedeserving homeless. It is implied that their needis not genuine and they are typecast as middleclassrebels living off the state.In fact, squatters no more form an easilyidentifiable group than owner occupiers or counciltenants. A wide range of different kinds of peoplewith a variety of beliefs, ideas and lifestyles havesquatted. Generalisations are difficult to makebut surveys do provide some of the basicinformation needed to get an overall picture.Both the DOE and Haringey surveys found thatmost people claimed they were squatting becauseTable 2Reasons for squattingIn response to the question ‘Which of thefollowing do you consider to be your mainreason for squatting?’ (DOE Survey) 8PercentageI wanted to live communallywith other people 9I couldn’t find anywhere at arent I could afford 59I wanted to make a protestabout houses being leftempty 13I wanted to leave money forother things than rent 3I wanted the freedom that )squatting offers )I wanted to be able to spend )my time as I like without ) 8having to earn money to )pay rent )All others 11In response to the question ‘Which of thefollowing correspond with your ownreason(s) for squatting?’ (Haringey survey) 4PercentageI couldn’t find any rentedaccommodation which wassuitable and cheap enough 96I wanted to live communallywith othersI wanted to live cheaply so asnot to have to work 11I couldn’t be bothered tolook for otheraccommodation 7I wanted better housing thanwould otherwise be availableto me 16I did it as a protest 8I wanted to get involved in somekind of social or politicalaction 3I will not be in the area longenough to make it worthwhilelooking for somewhereelse 3In each case, some people gave more thanone reason, so totals add up to more than100.they could not find other accommodation at aprice they could afford (table 2). Although somepeople squat because it provides moreopportunities for independence and communalliving, and others have squatted for politicalreasons, they form a tiny minority of the squatterpopulation. Surveys show that a high proportionof squatters are unemployed (27 per cent and 23per cent respectively in the Haringey and DOEsurveys). This is a huge proportion even by thestandards of a depressed area. These figures canbe partly explained by the fact that squatterstend to be young and unskilled. For example, theDOE survey found that ‘three-quarters of therespondents were aged under 30 and only 10 percent were over 40’. Surveys also show that adisproportionate number of squatters areunskilled or semi-skilled workers with lowincomes, little savings and few educational orvocational qualifications. In the DOE survey, 75per cent of the squatters had finished their formaleducation before reaching 18. In Haringey, 60 percent of the respondents had no educational orvocational qualifications and in the DOE surveyonly 13 per cent of the males working full timeearned over £50 weekly in 1975. It is importantto note that many of the squatters who aretechnically counted as unemployed in fact spendtheir time engaged in long-term projects or learnskills which stand them in good stead whenlooking for employment in the future.While most squatters are naturally pleasednot to have to pay rent, this is not a majorreason why they choose to squat. Many squattersoffer to pay rent but this is normally refused byowners as they fear – frequently withjustification – that acceptance would turn thesquatters into tenants with the right to staypermanently. Other bills like rates and servicesare normally paid by longer-term squattersalthough councils sometimes refuse rate paymentsfrom squatters, and gas and electricity boardsmay refuse even to supply squatters (p56).It is unfair to condemn squatters as the onlypeople who get a free ride when it comes tohousing. Many owner-occupiers with mortgageseffectively get free housing (or even make aprofit out of it) thanks to generous taxconcessions and to the rapid rise in house prices.Some squats, particularly those in centralLondon have been heavily dominated by singlepeople.For example, there were only 11 children out of186 squatters in Tolmers Village, Camden in1975. 13 But most squats have had a high proportionof people with children. In the Haringey andDOE surveys, 51 per cent and 54 per cent respectivelyof the houses visited were occupied bypeople with children. Surveys in Lambeth 14 (over60 per cent) and Cardiff 15 (77 per cent) revealedeven higher figures.The disparity can be explainedpartly in terms of the respective areas covered bythe surveys. Central London is traditionally anarea where single people form a high proportionof the population whereas Haringey isn’t. Butmore important is that squats like Tolmers Villagewith a long history of struggle against the ownerstend to attract young single people who are betterable to cope with living under the permanentthreat of eviction and who want to live in thesort of community that is created in these masssquats. Most of the people covered in the surveyslived outside such communities, isolated from anyother squatters and are a more representativesample of the overall squatting population.One more myth needs to be blown – thenotion of squatters as being mainly outsiders orforeigners. The Lambeth survey found ‘two-thirdsof the squatters came from within the borough’and similarly, in Haringey, almost half therespondents (47 per cent) were born in London.Those who have come from outside the area haveusually moved in search of jobs, something thathas been encouraged by successive governments.Yet, when they leave their home town, they findthat councils tend to discriminate against peoplefrom outside their area and squatting becomesthe only possibility.The message from the surveys is clear. Thestandard stereotypes of squatters created by theiropponents and perpetuated by the media do nothold water on closer examination. Yet, they live onthanks to the vast amount of publicity they havebeen given. The truth, as usual, is much less remarkable.Squatters are not articulate scroungersor hippy drop-outs.They are a fairly random crosssectionof the population who, in times of highunemployment, expensive rents and widespreadhousing shortage have squatted out of need. •232233

NotesWho said what, when.1 Ron Dinsey, Brent Councillor, quotedin the Kilbum Times, 14 November,1975.2 Douglas Eden,Vice-chairman, GLCHousing Development Committee,Daily Telegraph, 4 April 1975.3 George Tremlett, GLC housing chairperson,quoted in Evening News, 13December 1978.4 Ron Bailey, The Squatters, Penguin1973.5 Greater London Council ConservativeParty Manifesto, 1977.6 Under Sheriff of London AlistairBlack, quoted in Evening Standard,15 July 1975.7 David Stimpson, Leader of LambethCouncil, letter to The Guardian, 20December 1978.8 Charles Abrams in Housing in theModern World, p 12.9 Under Sheriff of London, MichaelHarris, 28 April, 1976, at the evictionof squatters in HornseyRise, London.10 Jack London, The People of the Abyss,1903.11 Anarchy no 16, 1975.DemonstrationsThe pastiche on pages 66 and 67 is madeup of photographs from Cambridge,Guildhall, 1972 – Cambridge EveningNews; Canterbury. Longport Court,1974and Municipal Buildings, 1975 – KentishGazette;Cardiff, 1975 – John Sturrock/Report; London: CACTL march, 1977 –Nick Wates; Centre Point, 1974 – MartinSlavin; High Court, 1975 – Liz Jellinekand AndrewWiard/Report;IslingtonTown Hall, 1975 – Lawrence Fechtwangerand John Sturrock/Report;Islington gas showrooms, 1975 – JohnRasmussen/Report;Marylebone MagistratesCourt,1974;Olympia,1975(?) –Aden Kclly; Prince of Wales Crescent,1973 – Time Out; Sunday People picket,1975 – Chris Davies/ Report;TowerHamlets council cham-ber – Tony Bock/Time Out;Tower Hamlets, 1973 – MartinSlavin, and 1974–PeterHarrap/Report;Swansea, Skctty, 1975 – Western Mail;York, 1975 – Northern Echo, Darlington.GraffitiLocation and credits for photos on pages72 and 731 Shirland Road, West London –Westminster Empty Property ActionGroup.2 Prince of Wales Crescent, NorthLondon – Aden Kelly.3 Westboume Park Road, West London– Philip Wolmuth.4 and 6 Cumberland Road, Portsmouth,1978 – NickWates.7 Great Western Road, West London –Philip Wolmuth.8 Hornsey Rise, North London – 1975.9 West London – International Times.10 Burton Street, Central London, 1979– Ray.11 North London, 1973 – Aden Kelly.12 Westboume Grove, West London,1977 – Philip Wolmuth.13 Prince of Wales Crescent, NorthLondon, 1976 – Kevin Tilfourd/Time Out.14 Elgin Avenue, West London, 1974– London Express.15 St Agnes Place, South London, 1977– Nick Wates.16 and 17 Prince of Wales Crescent,London, 1975 – Mike Goldwater.18 Great Western Road, West London,1977 – Philip Wolmuth.19 Villa Road, South London, 1977 –Philip Wolmuth.20 Villa Road, South London –Union Place Collective.21 Cumberland Road, Portsmouth,1978 – Nick Wates.Squatters brighten up theenvironment.Location and credits for photos onpages 78 and 79.1-6 Villa Road, Lambeth – Union PlaceCollective.7-11 Villa Road, Lambeth – Self HelpHousing Resource Library.14 James Street, Covent Garden– Nick Wates.12-13 Tolmcrs Square, Camden – Lwin.Squatters’ postersThe posters on pages 74 and 75 wereproduced by the Campaign Against theCriminal Trespass Law, Freston Roadsquatters, Chris Harper, Huntley Streetsquatters, Islington Single HomelessCampaign, Isling-ton squatters, LenthallRoad Work-shop, Paddington Print Shop,the Poster Collective, Red Dragon PrintCollective, Tolmers Village ActionGroup, Union Place Collective, VillaRoad Street Group, Westminster EmptyProperty Action Group and others whoare unknown.1979-80 squatsCredits f or p 100 and p 101Medway: South Eastern Newspapers;Harrogate: Ackrill Newspapers Ltd; OldStreet: Ray; Dorset: Reg Vincent; KingsCross: London News Service; Cambridge:London Squatters Union; Chislehurst:Dave Walkling; Hackney: MikeGoldwater; ‘Nice house’ banner: MikeWigg; Badge: London Squatters Union;‘Whoops’ cutting: East LondonAdvertiser, 23 May 1980; ‘Its curtains’cutting: Islington Gazette, 7 September1979; ‘We are still winning’: Yona Kroch.1 Introducing squatting1 Except where indicated, evidence forthe influence of squatting is based on‘off the record’ discussions betweenthe author and Department of theEnvironment officials.2 See for instance the following reports:London Boroughs Association, 2.51973; Greater London Council, 28.5.1974; Lambeth Council, 11.11.1974and IslingtonCouncil, 20.2.1975.These clearly indicate that squattingprovided the basis for reforms.3 Department of the EnvironmentPress Release, 28.7.1977.4 Self Help Housing Resource Libraryfigures.5 See Myth and Fact, p 230-233.6 Labour: see for instance The squattersby Ron Bailey, p 189; Liberal: see forinstance p 139; Conservative: seeEvening News, 4.8.1975.2 The squatters1 London quotes are from A Survey ofSquatters by Mike Kinghan. Thosefrom out of London are taken fromunsolicited letters sent to theAdvisory Service for Squatters withthe exception of those from HebdenBridge which were taken from areport prepared by squatters therefor Calderdale Council. Some of theletters have been abridged.3 Setting the stage1 Skelmersdale and Holland Reporter,22 May 1974.2 Ron Bailey, The Squatters, Penguin,1973.3 Sunday Times, 18 May 1969.4 Ron Bailey, The Homeless and theEmpty Houses,Penguin, 1977.5 See Housing Emergency Office.Dictatorsin the Town Hall, Shelter, 1980.6 The People, 21 September 1969.7 26 September 1969.8 Fulhamchronicle,26September1969.9 Quoted in West London Observer, 2October 1969.10 ‘What Squatting Means’, an articlein Deptford Comment, 1971.4 Squatters here, there and1 The Guardian, 28 June 1972.2 Quoted in Slough Evening Mail, 4April 1973.3 Author’s estimate (probably low)based on squats reported in EastAnglian Daily Times, May 1973.4 Essex County Standard,25May 1973.5 People’s News Service.6 See NickWates,The Battle forTolmers Square, Routledge andKegan Paul, 1976.7 Prince ofWales Residents’Associationstatement to public inquiry, 1973.8 Local newspaper cutting, undated,available at Self Help HousingResource Library.9 TheGuardian,21September 1975.10 The Bristol figure is an author’sestimate based on local presscoverage of squatting; thePortsmouth figure is from SquattersNews No 2; Brighton Evening Argus,29 April 1975; Surrey DailyAdvertiser, 7 March 1975; TheSwansea figure is from SquattersNews Bulletin, No 2; CambridgeEvening News, 25 March 1975; andLeicester Mercury, 29 July 1975.5 Mounting opposition1 East London Advertiser, 21 February1975.2 Department of the Environment(DOE), Consultation Paper onSquatting, August 1975.3 Greater London Council (GLC),Housing Management CommitteeReport, April 1974; Tower Hamletscontained the highest number (120)followed by Hammersmith (55),Islington (45) and Hackney (40).4 Report by Acting Head of Housing,GLC,28 May 1974.5 As previous reference.6 Hansard, 24 November 1975.7 DOE, Consultation Paper onSquatting (as reference 2 above).8 The case was heard in the HighCourt at Leeds on 17 June 1975.9 Memo from Camdcn LibrariesDepartment to all branch libraries,September 1973.10 Report by Co-ordinator of Housing onSquatters, 20 February 1975.11 Not to be confused with theElizabeth Garrett AndersonHospital, Euston Road, also thescene of an occupation.12 Peace News, 21 September 1973.13 As per reference 4 above. Examplesquoted were Mercers Estate (TowerHamlets), Poynings Road (Islington)and Walterton Road (Westminster).14 Kentish Times, 29 August 1974.15 Article by George Tremlettpublished as part of a collection ofpapers in Squatting Seminar, Schoolfor Advanced Urban Studies, BristolUniversity, 14 April 1974.16 Chris Whitehouse, ‘A Survey ofSquatters in Central Twickenham’,September 1973, published inSquatting Seminar as per previousreference.17 8 June 1975.18 6 August 1975.19 14 July 1975.20 The Times, 15 July 1975.21 Brian Winterbotham, ‘The change inthe presentation of squatting, 1969-75’, M Phil thesis, Exeter University,1976.22 16 August 1975.23 16 July 1975.24 19 August 1975.25 30 July 1975.26 ShelterInformationBulletin,19-25February 1976.27 Monica Ferman, Squatters as Neighbours,discussion paper published forFairhazel Tenants Association.28 Wandsworth Borough News,February 1975.29 27 September 1976.30 Evening Courier, 19 March 1976.31 14 May 1976; see also Peace News,21 May 1076.32 Director of Housing, ‘Squatting in theCouncil’sDwellings’,20January1976.33 The original – and clearly absurd –claim for rent-a-kid was in anarticle by Corina Adam in the NewStatesman, 18 July 1975, entitledThe Politics of Squatting’,but it was apress statement by the GLC inJanuary 1976 which attracted themedia’s attention.6 Squatters organise1 Mark Phillips, Same Old Struggle,Self Help Housing Resource Library,1978.7 A Whole New Ball Game1 Steve Platt, Squatting in Haringey,1976, reprinted by SHHRL, 1977.2 Time Out, 30 April 1976.3 EveningStandard,10December1976.4 Sunday Times,12December 1976.5 As reference 2 above.6 Quoted by Bernard Levin in TheTimes, 11 January 1977 from officialcouncil minutes.7 Sunday Times, 5 December 1976.8 Christian Wolmar, Homes or Jails,Release Publications, 1976.9 Squatters News No 10.10 The quotes are taken from the GLCHousing Policy Committee Report,24 October 1977 and from advertisementsplaced in various publicationsby the GLC during November 1977.11 Mike Kinghan, London Squatters,Shelter 1977.12 Daily Telegraph, 9 February 1977,contained an article by Steve Platt.13 Steve Platt, Self Help, Squattingand Public Policy, SHHRL, 1978.14 Housing Review, August 1974.15 SHHRL survey of co-ops listed in theCo-operative Housing Agency’s 1978Directory of Housing Co-operatives.16 DOE, Better Use of Vacant and UnderoccupiedProperty, Circular 76/77,July 1977.17 Paper delivered to Centre for EnvironmentalStudies Workshop, 21October 1977.18 Private Eye, 18 January 1980.19 Housing Emergency Office, Dictatorsin the Town Hall, Shelter, 1980.8 The early squatters1 Thomas Spence:‘A lecture Read at thePhilosophical Society in Newcastle onNovember 8th 1775, for Printing ofwhich the Society did the author theHonour to expel him.’ Reprinted in M.Beer (ed). The Pioneers of LandReform, G Bell & Sons 1920.2 W G Hoskins and L Dudley Stamp,The Common Lands of England andWales, Collins 1963.3 The Limitation Acts.4 M Dorothy George,England inTransition,1931,reprintedby Penguin 1953.5 ChristopherHill (ed), Gerrard Winstanley’sThe Law of Freedom andother Writings,Pelican Classics 1973.See also P Bowden in J Thirsk (ed),The Agrarian History of England, VolIV,Cambridge University Press,1967.6 Lewis H Berens,The Digger Movementin the Days of the Commonwealth,1906, reprinted by Holland Pressand Merlin Press 1961.7 S Baring-Gould, Dartmoor Idylls,1896; Robert Burnard, DartmoorPictorial Records, 1932.8 William Hepworth Dixon, RoyalWindsor,Vol 4,Hurst & Blackett 1879.9 H Askew in Notes and Queries, 30July 1932.10 Katherine Lloyd,‘Poachers Pockets inher skirts’. Country Life,11Oct 1973.11 Raphael Samuel, ‘Quarry Roughs’:life and labour in Headington Quarry,1860-19 20’, in R Samuel (ed). VillageLifeandLabour,RoutledgeandKeganPaul 1975. See also Illustrated Guideto the New Forest,Ward Lock, 1925.12 P-J Proudhon, What is Property?,Dover edition 1970.13 Ronnie Wharton, The Girlington‘Klondike’, Roar projects, Bradford1978 (obtainable from 132 UpperWoodland Road, Bradford).14 M Dorothy George, London Life in theEighteenth Century, 1925, reprintedby Penguin 1965.15 For the Land Registry Act and the lawof ‘adverse possession’ see Ruoff andRoper, Registered Conveyancing,Sweet and Maxwell 1972. See alsoDiana Brahams, ‘Adverse Possession:The Squatter’s Title’, Estates Gazette,22 Oct and 29 Oct 1977.16 Colin Ward, ‘Lost Freedom inHousing’, New Society, 12 May 1977.17 George Woodcock, Homes or Hovels?,Freedom Press, 1944.18 Peterlee Artist Project Report,Northern Arts, 1976.19 Reproduced from The ProdigiousBuilders by Bernard Rudofsky,Secker and Warburg, London, 1977.20 Daily Telegraph, 6 Sept 1963.21 Drawing by Bertha Stamp from TheTruth about Cottages by John Woodforde,Routledge and Kegan Paul,London,1969.22 From Lord Onslow’s records, SurreyCounty Council Record Office.23 From Hertfordshire County CouncilRecord Office.9 The postwar squatters1 Quoted in Peter Dickens, ‘Squattingand the State’, New Society, 5 May1977. This article contains a moredetailed account of the Vigilantes.2 Reynolds News, 12 October 1945.3 See Colin Ward, Housing: anAnarchist Approach, Freedom Press,1976, p.20. This book containsseveral contemporary articles.4 News Chronicle, 20 August 1946.5 Daily Mail, 27 August 1946.6 This is a summary of various contemporarylocal newspaper reports, all ofwhich are available at the Self HelpHousing Resource Library.7 D Murray Hill, ‘Who are theSquatters?’ Pilot Papers, November1946.12 Victoiy Villa1 The Brixton Plan, Second report ofthe working party of officers to theDevelopment Committee of theLondon Borough of Lambeth,June 69.2 Cynthia Cockburn’s book The LocalState, Pluto Press, 1977, gives adetailed account of these proposalsand the All Lambeth Squatterscampaign against them (pp 76-87).There is also a valuable analysis ofthe Neighbourhood Councils schemein Lambeth (pp 139-57).3 Myatts Fields South Public OpenSpace, London Borough of Lambeth,June’ 74.4 ‘The £100,000 footbridge to nowhere’,Evening Standard, 28 October 1975.Critical articles also appeared in thelocal press.14 The erosion of squatters’ rights1 Fourth edition, volume 2, para 863.2 Pennycuick V–C in Re 9 Orpen Road(1971) 1 A11ER 944.3 London Borough of Southwark vWilliams (1971) Ch 734; the quote isfrom Lord Denning’s judgement.4 McPhail v Persons Unknown (1973)3 WLR 71.5 Law Commission, Report on Conspiracyand the Criminal Law, 1976,p50.6 Warwick University v De Graaf (1975)1 WLR 1130.7 Burston Finance Limited v Wilkins,The Times, 16 July 1975.8 R v Wandsworth County Court exparte London Borough of Wandsworth(1975) 1 WLR 1114.9 Law Commissionm Report onConspiracy and the Criminal Law,1976.10 Law Commission’s Working Paper,Criminal Law: Offences of EnteringandRemainingonPropertyp2,June‘74.11 R v Kamara (1973) 3 WLR 198.12 For instance, Warwick University vDe Graffand Cros field Electronics vBaginsky (1975) 1 WLR 1135.13 GLC v Jenkins (1975) 7 WLR 155.14 Woodcock v South Western ElectricityBoard (1975) 1 WLR 983.15 Re Briant Colour Printing Company(1977) 1 WLR 942.16 Judgement in Re Albany Street, 11December 1974.19 From skippering to squatting1 P Phillimore, A Dosser’s World: Astudy of a Vagrant Population inLondon, MA dissertation. Universityof Edinburgh, 1973,p502 Under the Vagrancy Act 1824Section 4 (amended by Section 1 ofthe Vagrancy Act 1935), a person canbe arrested if he persistentlywanders abroad and persistentlyrefuses to go to an accessible place offree shelter to which a constable hasdirected him. ‘A place of free shelter’usually means a GovernmentReception Centre. The suspectedpersons law (Sus) is also contained inSection 4 of the 1824 Act. A personis guilty of the offence if he is a suspectedperson or reputed thief in apublic place intending to commit anoffence. It is used primarily againstyoung blacks, people with criminalrecords, and homeless people. Drunkennessis an offence under section 12of the Licensing Act 1872. SeeDrunken Neglect - the failure toprovide alternatives to prison for thehomeless alcoholic, CHARpublication, July 1974.3 The Mental Health Act 1959 whichaimed at ‘community care’ resulted inthe discharge of many patients intohomelessness. See H R Rollin, TheMentally Abnormal Offender andthe Law, London, Pergamon, 1969,pp 118-9.4 Third Class Claimants, CHAR; NoFixed Abode, Kingsway; Catering forHomeless Workers?, CHAR and theLow Pay Unit.5 Sec M Drake and T Bicbuych, Policyand Provision for the SingleHomeless: a position paper. PersonalSocial Services Council, 1977.6 Ted Eagle’s unpublished writingshave been heavily drawn upon.7 For instance at St Oswald’s Place,Lambeth.8 Compare Jeremy Sandford’s Edna theInebriate Woman with his Cathy,Come Home.20 Everybody’s doing it1 The sections on West Germany andSweden and the last part of thesection on Netherlands were writtenby Piers Corbyn.NickWates wrote thefirst part of the Netherlands sectionand the First and last parts of thesection on Denmark. The Irelandsection was written by ChristianWolmar.2 Figures from M Juppenlatz, Cities inTransformation, University ofQueensland Presss, 1970.3 Jockim Neander of Die Welt, writingin The Times, 3 February 1976.4 Le Nouvel Observateur, 25December 1977.5 Peace News, 15 December 1978.6 Dagens Nyheter, 4 November 1977.7 Northern Ireland Housing Executive,Sixth Annual Report.8 Jenny Smith, ‘Keeping roofs overtroubled heads’. Municipal Review,May 1973.9 Figures from Northern IrelandHousing Executive spokeswoman,September 1980.10 Figures from Kai Lemburg, Two CaseStudies in Management of PubliclyOwned Land in Copenhagen’.11 Report by the Ministry of PublicWorks, Madrid, October 1977.12 Information from Phil Mailer,Portugal, the Impossible Revolution,Chapter 9.13 The Times, 1 September 1976.14 Boaventura de Sousa Santo,‘Law andRevolution in Portugal’, a paperdelivered at the conference on‘Economic Change and SocialControl’, Vienna, 10-13 September1976.15 Peoples News Service, 8 December1975.16 Take Over the City, Rising Free,1973.17 Lotta Continua, 9 February 1974.18 Emilio Pucci of La Stampa, writing inThe Times, 3 February 1976.19 Quoted in a report by Campbcll Pagein The Guardian, 23 May 1976.20 Peoples News Service, 26 June 1975.21 For a fuller account of this secArchitectural Design, October 1976.22 Hong Kong’s ResettlementProgramme, July 1972.23 Report of the 1963 Working Party onGovernment Policies and Practiceswith regard to ‘squatters,resettlement and government lowcost housing’.24 Hong Kong Government, OfficialReport 1976, page 98.25 Figures given by R M Cox in ‘LandNationalisation’, a thesis forUniversity College, London, 1974.The housing crisis1 Department of the Environment(DOE), Housing Policy, a ConsultativeDocument,HMSO (Cmnd 6851),1977.2 The First Report of the environmentCommittee, HMSO. 1980.3 House Condition Survey. 1976,HMSO, 1978.4 Marparet Bone andVal Mason,EmptyHousing in England,HMSO,1980,p3.5 DOE, Housing Policy, TechnicalVolume No 1, HMSO, 1977, p76.6 As reference 3.7 DOE press release. 7 Aupust 1980,No 325.8 Roof, July 1979, p 110.9 As reference 1, p 12.10 The house price figures relate to thefirst quarter of 1980 and are takenfrom a DOE press release, 4 August1980, No 318.11 New Earnings Survey, a monthlypubliscation obtainable from HMSO.12 Shelter Election Manifesto, Shelter,1979.13 As reference 1, p71.14 Local Government News,August1980, p25.Empty property1 Margaret Bone and Val Mason,Empty Housing in England – aReport on the 1977 Vacant PropertySurvey, Office of PopulationCensuses and Surveys, HMSO, 1980.2 Department of the Environment(DOE). Labour Force Survey, 1977.3 Greater London A nnual A hstract ofStatistics, annual.4 Cambridge Empty Property ActionGroup, Another Empty Home, 1977and follow up report, 1979.5 National Empty Homes Campaign,Summary of Empty Property Surveysfrom throughout Britain, 1977.6 Kcnsington and Chelsca EmptyHomes Group, What Housing?, 1978.7 As reference 5 above.8 Figures reported to NottinghamCouncil Housing Committee in reportby housing research officer,June 1977.9 Sheffield Community Action, WhyEmpty?, 1976.10 Harlcsden Advice Centre and BrentCommunity Housing, Empty Homesin South Brent, 1977.11 Southwark Forum, Empty Propertyin Southwark, CHAR, 1975.12 Roof, March 1980, pp 52-4.13 Exeter Housing Group, Why Empty?Housing in Exeter, 1976 and Whystill Empty?, 1978.14 As reference 3 above.15 Oxford Shelter Group, EmptyProperty Survey, 1976.16 Paddington Federation of Tenantsand Residents Associations, EmptyProperties in Paddington, 1976.17 As reference 11 above.18 DOE, National Housing and DwellingSurvey, 1977.19 Ron Bailey, The Homeless and theEmpty Houses, Penguin, 1977.20 Islington Gazette, 8 August 1980.21 As reference 19 above, pp 56-7.22 London Boroughs Association,‘Observations on DOE ConsultativeDocument: Squatting*, September1975.23 DOE, Circular 18/74, February 1974.24 DOE, Better Use of Vacant andUnder-occupied Property, Circular76/77, July 1977.25 As reference 1 above, p 60.26 As reference 19 above, p 157.27 Shelter, Buy up. Brick up andDemolish, 1979.234 235

28 Morcton C and Tatc J, ‘The VacancyReserve’, Town Planning Review Vol26 No 1, 1975.Myth and fact1 In Australia, squatters are largescale farmers who are tenants of thecrown. Typically wealthy andinfluential, they have beennicknamed the squattocracy.2 Sources for the graph: 1969 and 1971,author’s estimate; 1973 and 1974,Family Squatting Advisory Serviceestimate; 1975, Advisory Service forSquatters estimate; 1977-1980, SelfHelp Housing Resource Libraryestimate. As explained in the text,the figures are only estimates butthey have not been seriouslychallenged and have been widelyaccepted by the media.3 Squatters News, No 10.4 Steve Platt, Squatting in Haringey,1976. A borough-wide survery of 150squatters in Haringey carried outwith the co-operation of Haringeyhousing department officials.Available from the SHHRL. It isreferred to numerous times in thisappendix. There have been abouthalf a dozen surveys of squattersand most are quoted in this section.5 SHHRL, Squatting, Empty Propertyand Public Policy, a survey of localauthorities, 1977.6 As previous reference.7 Statistics on homelessness publishedregularly by the DOE in Housingand Construction Statistics.8 Mike Kinghan, Squatters in London,Shelter publication 1977, A surveycommissioned from the Institute ofCommunity Studies by the DOE of160 squatted dwellings in the Londonboroughs of Lambeth, Camden,Southwark, Tower Hamlets, WalthamForest and Islington. The survey wascarried out in early 1975. It is referredto numerous times in this appendix.9 London Boroughs Association replyto DOE Consultation Paper onSquatting published in August 1975.10 Hansard, 21 June 1976.11 The Times, 8 August 1975.12 Roof, May 1979, p 72.13 Nick Wates, The Battle for TolmcrsSquare, Routledge and Kegan Paul,‘76.14 Unauthorised Squatting in CouncilDwellings,ALambeth Council surveyof 150 squatted council homes, 1974.15 Before You Open Your Big Mouth, asurvey of 17 squats in Cardiff,Cardiff Housing Action, 1976.Late creditsThanks are due to Atalia Avrahami,Peter Bishop, Community Press,Morning Litho Printers, John Owen,Jonathan Reid, Colin Smith, Bernard,Joanna, Oliver and Rosalind Wales,Paul Webster and Werner Ullah.The Index was compiled by Phil Jeffries.The photo on page 111 by JohnTopham.BibliographyOnly material specifically relating tosquatting is listed in this bibliographyand no attempt has been made to coverwider aspects of housing, empty property,direct action etc. The bibliography hasbeen compiled by the Self Help HousingResource Library whose address can befound in the section on informationcentres. The Library holds most of thematerial listed here and has a largecollection of leaflets, newssheets andother material produced by squatters.Not all material has been fullyreferenced because of the failure ofpublishers to provide detailedinformation. For reference material onsquatting before 1968 see the notes tochapters 8 and 9 (p 235).Books, pamphlets, studies and surveysAdvisory Service for Squatters, SquattersHandbook, sixth edition, 1979.Bailey R, The Grief Report, Shelter, 1972;The Squatters, Penguin, 1973; SquattingTactics,Wildcat Supplement No 3, 1974:Squatting, Trespass and the LawCommission Report, HereticalPublications, 1976; The Homeless andthe Empty Houses, Penguin, 1977; WhoControls County Hall, Thicket HousingCo-op, 1977; Dictators in the Town Hall,Housing Emergency Office, Shelter, 1980.Bailey R, Mahoney T and Conn M,Evicted, London Squatters Campaign,1969.Beam A, Rehearsal for the Year 2000,Revelaction Press, 1976.Blake M, Study of Squatting in TowerHamlets, Polytechnic of North London,1975.Bromley Family Squatters Association,Squatting in Bromley, 1972.Campaign Against A Criminal TrespassLaw, Trespass Laws – an Attack onDirect Action, 1977; The Secret RentAct, 1977; Workplace Occupations andthe Law, 1978; The Huntley StreetEviction, 1978; Whose Law and Order?,1979.Campaign for the Homeless andRootless and others. Empty Property, AGuide for Local Action, 1975.Cant, D H, Squatting and PrivateProperty Rights,Town PlanningDiscussion Paper No 24, UniversityCollege, 1976. Cardiff Housing Action,Before You Open Your Big Mouth, 1976.Cockburn C, The Local State, PlutoPress, 1977.Corbyn P, Students and the Struggle forDecent Housing for all, Maida HillSquatters, 1973; Housing, Squattingand the Urban Crisis, InternationalMarxist Group,1975.Dancing House Squatters, DancingHouse Squat, Nottingham People’sCentre, 1975Dobson E, Squatting: the LastAlternative in this Jubilee Year,Middlesex Polytechnic, 1978.Ferman M, Squatters as Neighbours,Fairhazel Tenants Association, 1975.Gimson M, Without Colour of Right:Squatting in Britain, 1976.Haldane Society of Socialist Lawyers,Criminal Law Bill, 1977.Ingham A, Self Help House RepairsManual, Penguin, 1975.Islington Squatters, SquattersHandbook, first edition, 1973.Jackson C, Lambeth Interface, 1975.King N, Huntley Street, GLCAEuropean Urban Term, 1979.Kinghan M, A Survey of Squatters,Institute of Community Studies, 1976;Squatters in London, Shelter, 1977.Laing A, The Criminal Trespass Bill –Law in a Capitalist Society, 1977.Lambeth Self-help housing. AnnualGeneral Report: Squatting in Lambeth,1972-3; A Report from Lambeth Self-Help Housing Association, 1975.London Squatters Campaign, TheThuggery of Redbridgc Council, 1969;Squatting in Ilford, 1969.Mahoney T, Squatting, IdiotInternational 1970.National Council for Civil Liberties,Squatting, Trespass and Civil liberties,1976.O’Malley J, The Politics of CommunityAction, Spokesman Books, 1977.Paris C and Poppleston G, Squatting: aBibliography, Occasional Paper No 3,Centre for Environmental Studies, 1978.Phillips M, Homelessness and Tenants’Control: Struggles for Council Housingin Tower Hamlets 1974-6, Dame ColetHouse, 1977.Platt S, Squatting in Haringey, 1976; SelfHelp, Squatting and Public Policy, 1977.Pollard J, Squat, September 1972.Radford J, Squatting Report, OffbeatPublicity Service, 1969; SquattingAssociation, Fabian Tract 400, 1970.Release, Entering and Remaining onProperty, 1974.Rough Theatre, Rough Theatre Plavs,Open Head Press, 1977.Robinson D, Wasted Houses in Kentish236Town, NW5 Neighbourhood Centre,1972.Rudofsky B, The Prodigious Builders,Seeker and Warburg, 1977.St Agnes Place Squatters, History of StAgnes to November 1976, 1976.Self Help Housing Resource Library,Squatters – Myth and Fact, 1977.Seymour Housing Co-op, We Refuse toAccept the Squatters’ Traditional Role,1976.Shearer J, Squatting in Bristol, StudentCommunity Housing, 1975.Shelter, Buy up. Brick up and Demolish,1979.Solidarity South London, The Squatters– A Report and Critique of Ilford, 1969.Squatters Action Council, Squatting –what’s it all About?, 1976.Stepney Squatters, Flashpoint, 1975.Turner C, London Squatter GroupsBecoming Housing Co-operatives, PoplarWest Housing Co-op, 1977.University of Bristol, SquattingSeminar, School for Advanced UrbanStudies, 1975.Ward C, Housing: an AnarchistApproach, Freedom Press, 1976.Wates N, Squatting at Arbour House,Bartlett, University College London,1973; Squatting as a Force in Planning,Bartlett, University College London,1973; The Battle for Tolmers Square,Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1976.Watkinson D, Eviction Procedures andthe Law Relating to Squatting, LegalAction Group Guide No 1, Law in aHousing Crisis, 1975.Winterbotham B, The Change in PressPresentation of Squatting, 1969-75,thesis, Exeter University, 1976.Wolmar C, Homes or Jails, ReleasePublications, 1976.Official and Parliamentary ReportsThis is only a selection of the largenumber of reports on squatting by localauthorities, central government andother official bodies.Department of the Environment,Consultation Paper on Squatting, 1975.Greater London Council, Report byActing Head of Housing Department,‘Squatting’, 28 May 1975; ‘Offences ofEntering and Remaining on Property’,2 January 1976; ‘Squatting in theCouncil’s Dwellings; Reappraisal ofPolicy’, 20 January 1976; ‘Squatting –a proposal for future action to attackthe problem’, Housing Committeereport, 24 October 1977.Islington Council, ‘Squatters’, HousingCommittee report, 20 February 1975.Lambeth Council, ‘UnauthorisedSquatting in Council Dwellings’,Housing Committee, 10 January 1975.Law Commission, Offences of Enteringand Remaining on Property,WorkingPaper No 54, 1974; Conspiracy andCriminal Law Reform, 1976.London Boroughs Association,‘Observations on DOE ConsultativeDocument: Squatting’, September 1975.Parliament. References were made tosquatters on the following datesbetween 1974 and 1976: 22 May 1974;13 February 1975; 14 July 1975; 22 July1975; 31 July 1975; 15 October 1975;16 October 1975; 20 November 1975;24 November 1975; 25 November 1975;1 May 1976. The Criminal Law Billwhich changed the law on squattingwas introduced in the House of Lordson 1 December 1976 and eventually waspassed on 29 July 1977. Between thesetwo dates there were numerous debateson the squatting provisions in the Bill.Newspapers and periodicalsThis is a selection of the most importantmaterial published on squatting, mostof which is available from the Self HelpHousing Resource Library.Absolon P, ‘Meditation on Squatting’,Crucible, March 1973.Adam C, “The Politics of Squatting’,New Statesman, 18 July 1975.Albert T, ‘Why they Became Squatters’,Times Educational Supplement, 1February 1974.Baily M, ‘Squatters Want to Borrow£500,000’, The Times, 14 October 1975.Balfe R, ‘Squatter Bashing: Symbol ofCrisis’, Sunday Times,2November 1975.Barker D, ‘Squatters Serenade theBailiffs Men’, The Guardian, 13 October1973.Barstow A, ‘Squatting’, Morning Star, 6and 22 November 1974.Black Dwarf, ‘Squatters’, July 1 969;‘The Quiet Squatters of Arbour Square’,23 March 1970.Boston R, ‘Homing In’, New Society’, 6March 1969.Bradney D, ‘Family Shuttle’, TheGuardian, 26 August 1975.Brittain V, ‘Squatters Rights andWrongs’, Illustrated London News,August 1975.Camden Tenant, ‘Up against the Law’,summer 1977.Chippindale P, ‘A Dog’s Life for theProperty Men’, The Guardian, 5 October1973; ‘Centre Point’, The Guardian, 22January 1974.Clare J, ‘Council Damaging Houses’,The Times, 7 July 1969; ‘Squatters witha touch of the Forsytes’, The Observer,12 January 1975.Corbyn P, ‘Squatting and Social Work’,Community Care, 1975; ‘The SquattingMovement’, Labour Monthly, 1980.Coggan D, ‘The Politics of Squatting’,Police Review, 25 February 1977.Davies T, ‘Boom in New-Style Squatting’,Sunday Telegraph, 2 February 1975.Dickens P, ‘Squatting and the State’,New Society, 5 May 1977.Economist, ‘Less Welcome Guests’, 25January 1975; ‘On The Move’, 27September 1975.Foot P, ‘Good Buy Piccadilly’, PrivateEye, 10 October 1969.Forgan L, ‘Too easy to Dismiss them asa Damn Nuisance’, Evening Standard,27 January 1977.Foulkcs C, ‘Fulham’s Squatters’, FulhamChronicle, 29 August 1975.Franey R, ‘AA’s Premium on Mythology’,Roof, May 1979.Freeman L, ‘Squatting Within the Law’,Municipal and Public Services Journal,9 July 1971.Gansell N, ‘Squatting: A Home of YourOwn’, East London Advertiser, 14March 1975.Geddes D, ‘Should Squatting be aCriminal Act’, The Times, 28 January1976.Gimson M, Lwin C and Wates N,‘Squatting: The Fourth Arm of Housing’,Architectural Design, April 1976.Gray B and Booker C, ‘Councils ofWreckers’, Sunday Times, 12 May 1973.Green M, ‘Belfield: A Powder Keg Readyto Explode’, Rochdale Observer, 8 March1975.Griffith J, ‘Squatters as Criminals’, NewStatesman, 2 April 1976.Grimes A, ‘Squatters’, ManchesterEvening News,17 April 1975.Hamilton A, ‘Squatting’, The Times, 25and 29 March and 6 and 9 April 1976.Hanson A, ‘Squatters Law’, TheGuardian, 30 July 1975.Harmer H, ‘No Place Like Home’, NewStatesman, 21 February 1975.Harrison P, ‘Squatters’, New Society, 25January 1973.Help,‘Anatomy of an eviction’, August1969.Hopkin A, ‘Squatting is not a SoftOption’, Over 21, September 1977.Hughes W and Humphry D, ‘CounterSquatting’, The Spectator, 21 February1976.Islington Squatters Group, ‘OccupationDiary’, Inside Story, September 1972.Jordan P, ‘Councils House NewWeapon’, The Guardian, 15 July 1975.Keyworth F, ‘And Squatters Went onTrial’, Morning Star, 14 January 1977.Kinghan M, ‘Squatting in London’, NewSociety, 2 May 1974; Tenant Selfmanagement:The Experience of FamilySquatting Associations’, HousingReview, July/August 1974.Kingsgate Squatters, ‘What’sRevolutionary about Squatting?’Anarchy 16, 1975.Laurance R, ‘A Look at the OutsideWorld’, Times Educational Supplement,1 March 1974.Laurence P, ‘Priest Held at SquatterCamp’, The Guardian, 12 August 1977.Laurie P, ‘Squatters – People of theAbyss’, Sunday Times,7December 1969.Levin B, “They certainly know how tolet the grass grow down Lambeth way’.The Times, 11 January 1977.Litterick I, ‘Group Squat’, New Society,17 February 1972.Longley C, ‘Success story of thesquatters’, The Times, 9 November1970; ‘The changing face of squatting’,The Times, 10 November 1970.Marks S, ‘Squatting at the Crossroads’,Municipal and Public Services Journal,20 September 1974.Morris R, ‘Squatter Crisis GetttingWorse’, The Observer, 4 February 1973;‘Squatters’ Community’, The Observer, 4March 1973.New Society,To squat or not’, 29 May1969.Paris C and Popplestone G, ‘Squattingand the Criminal Law Act: Problem orSolution’, Centre for EnvironmentalStudies Review, 1977.Peace News has had a number ofarticles on squatting.Perry D, ‘Experience of Squatters atRedbridge’, Housing, September 1969.Pettit A and Wade B, ‘Good Squat Guide’,Undercurrents 21, April/May 1977.Platt S, ‘Squatters: The New Criminals’,Hampstead and Highgate Express andNews, 5 April 1976; ‘In Defence ofSquatting’, Daily Telegraph, February1977.Pollard J, ‘Squatting in the City’,Architectural Design, August 1973.Private Eye, ‘Harris greed’, 18 January1980.Radford J, ‘Squatting Prospects’, NewSociety, 30 July 1970.Righter R, ‘73 Families could Live in thisStreet’, Sunday Times,1November 1976.Sigal C, ‘144 Piccadilly’, New Society,1969.Sims L, The Squatters’, InternationalSocialism, No 41.Smith C, ‘Elgin Avenue Sit-Out’, TheObserver, 20 July 1975.Time Out has consistently givenextensive coverage to squattingthroughout the current wave. Seeabove, Paris C and Poppleston G,Squatting: A Bibliography.Underwood J, ‘Squatters’, HousingMonthly, July 1975.Walker M, ‘Rent a Squatter’, TheGuardian,22December 1972; ‘SquattersPaint a Festival Red’, The Guardian, 7May 1973; ‘No Place Like Home’, TheGuardian, 10 September 1975.Walter N, ‘The New Squatters’, TheListener, 15 May 1969.Ward C, ‘Direct Action for Houses: TheStory of the Squatters’, Anarchy 23.Watts N, ‘Squatting: Born of an OverorganisedSociety’, Municipal Journal,25 July 1975.Weightman G, ‘Varieties of Squatting’,New Society, 23 June 1977.White D, The New Settlers’, NewSociety, 14 December 1972.White M, ‘Roof Justice’, The Guardian,26 May 1973; ‘Cornwall Terrace’, TheGuardian, 22 February 1975.Wilcox D, ‘The Squatter; Who’s heSqueezing out?’, Evening Standard, 13January 1975.Windsor J, ‘Siege of Parfett Street’, TheGuardian, 1 March 1973.Wolmar C, ‘Squatters’, New Society, 1August 1975; ‘Psychology of theCriminal Trespass Law’, Roof, January1979; There’s no Place like Home’,The Leveller, April 1979.Woolley T, ‘Squatting under Attack’,Architectural Design, November 1975;‘Politics of Housing’, ArchitecturalDesign, April 1976.Young J, ‘Dangerous Fallacies’, TheTimes, 19 February 1975.Numerous squatting groups have attimes produced newssheets on a regularbasis. For example Maida Hill Squattersproduced over 100 editions of EASY, andVilla Road Squatters produced 30 issuesof Villain. There have been severalsquatters periodicals aimed at a wideraudience of which the most importantare Squatters News published by theLondon Squatters Union (1977- ); SACNews published by the Squatters ActionCouncil (1975-7) and Squatters NewsBulletin published by the FamilySquatting Advisory Service (laterAdvisory Service for Squatters) (1975).InternationalThis selection of material is necessarilybrief and is a ‘taster’ rather than acomprehensive bibliography. Titles arein the national language except whereindicated. A comprehensive bibliographyon land squatting – which has beenexcluded here – can be obtained fromthe Architectural Association, 34-6Bedford Square, London WC1.AUSTRALIASydney Squatters, The City Squatter,Sydney,1975.CANADAHogan I, ‘Self-Help/Squatting’,Architectural Design, October 1976.DENMARK.Blum J, The Free Town of Christiania,National Museum of Denmark, 1977,available in English and Danish.Edwards M, Christiania, Experimentsin Living, Thule Press, to be publishedin 1981 in English (Danish and Germaneditions already in print).Editions Alternatives et Paralleles,Christiania, Paris 1979, in French.Support Christiania England Group,Freetown Christiania, Self Help HousingResource Library, 1977, in English.FRANCE‘Les Bulldozers du Quatorzieme’, LeNouvel Observateur, 25 December 1977.‘L’Hiver des Squatters’, La GueuleOuverte, Combat Non-Violent, 8December 1977.GERMANYRoth J and Wenzel A, Frankfurt, Zerstorung-Terror-Folter,In Namen desGesetzes, an account of squatting inFrankfurt, Megapress, Frankfurt, 1974.IRELANDNorthern Ireland Community RelationsCommission, Intimidation in Housing,1974, Chapter 10.ITALYDaolia A, Le Lotte per la Casa in Italia,Feltrinelli, Milan, 1974.Lotto Continua, a daily Italiannewspaper, has consistently coveredsquatting.Rising Free, Take Over the City, 1973(in English).NETHERLANDSBijlsma A and Salverda F, ‘DeNieuwmarkt als Wingewest’, VrijNederland, 20 May 1978.Davidson and Tijen, Today this House,237Tomorrow the City, Community Press,1972, in English.Dekker A, ‘Older Women – We LiveHere’, Spare Rib, July 1980.Protestante Stichting Bibliotheekwezen,Kraken in Nederlands, 1978.PORTUGALEven geduld, deze straat is gekraakt,a photo-book on the Vondelstraat squat.Handleiding voor krakers, Dutchsquatters handbook.Mailer P, Portugal, the ImpossibleRevolution, Solidarity, 1977, chapter 9,in English.MISCELLANEOUSHollister R, Squatting – theComparative Effectiveness of a HousingProtest Tactic in Britain, Ireland andthe US, 1972.See also SAC News and SquattersNews.Information centresAdvisory Service for Squatters, 2 StPaul’s Road, London N1 (tel: 01 3598814).AHAS, 5 Dryden Street, London WC2E9NW (Community initiatives)London Squatters Union, 48 KingWilliam IV Street, London WC2.Self Help Housing Resource Library,Polytechnic of North London, 2-16 EdenGrove, London N7 8DB (tcl: 01 607 2789x 2065).InternationalDenmark: Stot Christiania,Dronningsgade 14, 1420 Copenhagen.Italy: Unione Inqilini, Florence.Netherlands: WoongroepStaatsliedenbuurt, v Hogendorpstr,124/73, Amsterdam (tel: 860994).West Germany: Burgerinitiativc S036,Sorauer Str 28, 1 Berlin 36.Films and videosThis list does not include materialmade for television.Living Free, about Prince of WalesCrescent, 1973, 20 mins, b/w, video,from Fantasy Factory, 42 TheobaldsRoad, London WC1.‘Squat’, about a family squatting inBristol, directed by Malir G, 1974, 44mins, from Contemporary Films, 55Greek Street, London W1V 6DB.Elgin Avenue, 1974, 15 mins, b/w, video,from Squatters History Group, 55 InnisHouse, East Street, London SE17 (tel;01-701 5691).Winstanley, about the Diggersoccupation of common land in theseventeenth century, directed byBrownslow K and Mollo A, 95 mins, b/w,from Contemporary Films (see above).Whose building is it anyway?, aboutSeymour Building squat becoming a coop,directed by Ellis G, 1978, 30 mins,video from Self Help Housing ResourceLibrary.Cumberland Road and the fight againstdemolition, Portsmouth, 1978, 35 mins,b/w, Sony 1 ⁄2 inch high density reel-reel,from Southsea Self Help Housing, 81‘Cumberland Road, Southsea, Hants.Huntley Street: a housing struggle, aboutthe Huntley Street squat 1978, 28 mins,b/w, Sony 1 ⁄2 inch high density reel-reeland in Umatic Cassette, from SquattersHistory Group (see above).Woolloomooloo, about a struggle againstredevelopment in Sydney, Australia inwhich squatters played a part, 1978,directed by Fiske P, Gailey P and WhiteD, 75 mins, b/w.Wreckers in the town hall, aboutwrecking and prior demolition bycouncils, 1979, 30 mins, colour, video,from Housing Emergency Office, 157Waterloos Road, London SE1 8UU.Bloomsbury Square, the squat and itslife, directed by Ibarra G, 1979, fromSquatters History Group (see above).Squatting – life and times, the historyof squatting up to 1979, Film WorkGroup Production, 1980, 51 mins. SonyUmatic Cassette, from SquattersHistory Group (see above).A Vondelbridge too far, about the no goarea inAmsterdam,1980,49 mins,colour.Sony 1 ⁄2 inch Umatic Cassette, fromSquatters History Group (see above).A kingdom for a house, about thesquatter-lcd riots against the coronationin Amsterdam 1980, 60 mins, colour,16mm. from Squatters History Group(see above).International Times

IndexPlace IndexFor England, Scotland and Wales,towns are listed under counties andstreets under towns. For London,streets are listed under boroughs.AVONBath 56Bristol 35, 39-41, 48, 56, 99, 110,112-3Ashley Rd 56Totterdown 229BEDFORDSHIREDunstable 106BERKSHIRE 112Amersham 112Bracknell 46Slough 32, 89Windsor Castle 107Winnersh 17BUCKINGHAMSHIRE 32Iver 106CAMBRIDGESHIRE 14Cambridge 41, 66-7, 99CHESHIREHyde 4CORNWALL 226Liskeard 11St Ives 41CUMBRIAKendal 51DEVONDartmoor 107Exeter 11, 229DORSETBournemouth 4Portland 100DURHAMBlackball 109Easington Colliery 109Elizabethville, Birtley 109DYFEDTalybont 32ESSEXBorehamwood 89Colchester 32-3, 68Bellevue Rd 32Woods Sports Club 32Snaresbrook (The Hollies) 15GLAMORGANCardiff 66-7, 233Swansea 41Oystermouth Rd 56Sketty 66-7GLOUCESTERSHIRE 106Cheltenham 59Whiteway 107Wotton-under-edgeHM Prison 6GWENTBlackwood 6HAMPSHIREGuildford 41Petersfield 6Portsmouth 41, 94Cumberland Rd 72-3, 94, 99HERTFORDSHIREBurnham Green 107Hoddesdon 14St Albans 9, 197Watford 6Langley Way 112KENTCanterbury 66-7Chislehurst 100Cox Hall 106Deal 58Gillingham 32Isle of Sheppcy 32Little Stoke 100Sevenoaks 50Union Row 50West Mailing 15Kings Hill Hostel 15LANCASHIRE 14, 57, 68Birkenhead 17Liverpool 11, 110, 119Sefton General Hospital 6Oldham 11LEICESTERSHIREBosworth 106Leicester 9, 41LINCOLNSHIREScunthorpe 111, 113LONDONBarnet 106Brent 29, 57Brondesbury 54Bromley 28Crystal Palace 54, 74Farmbridge Rd 168Thicket Rd 167Camden 16, 29, 33-8, 41, 50-1,56-8, 62, 65, 82, 94, 133Bishops Ave 44Bloomsbury Square 99-100Burton St 72-3Camden High St (No 220) 33-5,57, 132-4Camden House 71Centrepoint 35-7, 66-7, 70Charrington St 39, 56Drummond St 74-5, 190Elizabeth Garrett AndersonHospital, maternity home 57Endell St 22-5Euston Centre 33Huntley St 64, 74-5, 94-6, 99,158, 162Ivanhoe Hotel 115James St 64, 74-5, 100Kentish Town 57Kingsway Day Centre 198Marsden St 58Prince of Wales Cres 38-9,65-8, 72-3, 76, 168Russell Sq 22Sandringham Flats(Charing Cross) 53Tolmers Sq 33-5, 39, 65, 74-5,91, 233Trentishoe Mansions 65, 163West Hamstead 57Winchester Rd 91, 166-7, 178-9City of LondonCarmalite St Fire Station 135St Pauls CathedralChancellery 99Croydon 142Ealing 29, 114Enfield 106Greenwich 29Hackney 100Bishops Way 90, 168Broadway Market 184Old St 100HammersmithBramley Rd 49Cumberland Hotel 62Gt Western Rd 72-3Olympia 66-7, 96Rumbold Rd 26Haringey 29, 40. 82, 231-3Ferry Lane 76, 98-9Finsbury Park 57HarrowEastcote 50HounslowHeathrow Airport 41Islington 29, 48, 56, 65-7, 69, 134,226Athelstane Rd 181-3CharterisRd 63. 181-5EmmalisaCt 57Finsbury Park 39, 180-5Harecourt Rd 180Highbury Fields 99 ,.Hornsey Rise 40, 53, 65, 72-3,89Hornsey Rise Gdns 227Lesly St 31, 33Kensington and Chelsea 227Arundel Ct 16Camelford Rd 17Duchess of Bedford Ho,Campden Hill 114-9Holland PR Rd 114Kensington Gdns 134Kensington High St 44Kensington Town Hall 115Notting Hill Gate 44Palace Gdns 44Upper Phillimore Gdns 114Westbourne Grove 72-3Kingston-upon-Thames 46Lambeth 29, 40-3. 48, 55. 68, 226,233Angell Town 142, 149Brixton Rd 142-6Brixton Towers 42-3Brixton Town Centre 142, 144Heath Rd 149HerneHill 33Myatts Fields 142, 144Priory Grove 171-2, 176Radnor Tce 53,146Railton Rd 33Rectory Gdns 149St Agnes Place 52, 72-5, 82-5,145-9, 186-191St Alphonsus Rd 149St Johns Cres 144-5, 229Stockwell Park Estate 142-3Villa Rd 72-3,82,91,121,142-9,158, 160,167-8, 175-6, 190Wiltshire Rd 149Lewisham 26-8, 94, 226NewhamPlaistow 107Redbridge 25-6, 29, 98-9,122-3,159All Saints Vicarage, Leyton 16Audrey Rd 19Ilford 18, 21Lockwood Rd 55Woodland Rd 19-21RichmondPalm Court Hotel 40, 196Southwark 27, 57, 89, 227Camberwell 131. 141Elephant & Castle 50, 142Tower Hamlets 29, 48, 64Arbour Sq 122Constant Ho, Harrow Lane 41Longfellow Rd 39, 90, 190Mercer’s Estate 53Mile End 40Myrdle St 121-7Parfett St 33, 121-9Pelham Ho 89Spitalfields 41, 68-9Stepney 33, 47, 53, 58Sumner Ho 47, 90, 152Twickenham 57-8BusheyPark 112GrosvenorTce 58, 176Radnor Tee 40Waltham ForestStratford 111Wandsworth 29, 62, 68Battersea 50-1, 87WestminsterAbbey Lodge 115-7Belgravia 109Bravington Rd 53Bristol Gdns 39, 57, 91, 197Bruce Ho 198Canal Flats Harrow Rd 134,151Carlton House Tee 71Cleveland St 65Cornwall Tee 40, 44, 65, 90,151,197Dover St 70, 134Elgin Ave 59, 62, 64-69, 72-3121, 130-41, 145, 158Fountain Ct, Pimlico 114-5Greek St 40Hyde Park-White Cottage 10Lancaster Rd 192Leicester Sq 117Piccadilly (No 144) 22-5, 107Pimlico 109Queens Park Estate 135Regents Park 40, 44, 50Seymour Buildings 90, 121,150-5Shirland Rd 72-3Trafalgar Sq 200Walterton Rd 133, 137Warrington Cres 133Westbourne Park Rd 72-3LOTHIANEdinburghRoyal Mile 17MANCHESTER 4, 17, 40-1, 107-9NORFOLKFakenham 4Norwich 40Sotterley 41NORTHAMPTONSHIRE 105Wellingborough 106NOTTINGHAMSHIRE 106Rainworth 47OXFORDSHIRECoxwell 32Headington Quarry 107POWYSHay-on-Wye 11SOMERSET 51Shepton Mallet 41Taunton 32STAFFORDSHIREStoke-on-Trent 14, 29, 99Stone 41STRATHCLYDEBlantyre 110Glasgow 40, 113SUFFOLKMildenhall 47SURREYChertsey 41Cobham Heath 106St Georges Hill 106Walton-on-Thames 106SUSSEXBrighton 17, 32, 39, 41, 56, 63,110Church St 26Queens Sq 26Terminus Rd 81, 134WykehamTce 26WEST MIDLANDSBirmingham 47, 99, 110CoventryHillman Ho 35WILTSHIRESalisbury 46Stonehenge 46YORKSHIREAirton 105Barnsley 40Batley 40Bradford 40, 56Girlington ‘Klondike’ 107-9Calderdale 56, 63, 174Halifax 40Harrogate 40, 100Hebden Bridge 9, 11, 39, 174Queens Tce 40, 63Royal Tce 56Huddersfield 40Leeds 17, 40,107-9Sheffield 40, 111Firvale (workhouse) 112Manor la 112York 66-7OVERSEASDenmark 39, 205, 213-6France 104, 207, 212Guatemala 207Hong Kong 205India 207Indonesia 206Ireland 205, 212-3Italy 205, 216-8Malaya 207Netherlands 205, 208-212Peru 206Philippines 207Portugal 205, 216Scandinavia 205, 212Spain 216Turkey 206West Germany 207-8Zimbabwe 207General IndexAdvisory Service for Squatters(ASS) see also FSAS48, 70-1, 87, 99-101, 158All Lambeth Squatters 82, 144All London Squatters (ALS) 57,69-71, 87, 132-7Area Health Authorities 54, 94, 99Artisans and General WorkersProperty Co 151Automobile Association 59, 232Bailiffs and Sheriffs 1, 18-20, 24-6,34, 59, 80-1, 87, 96,98, 125-9,131,134, 140, 159, 183Barricades 80-1, 112-3, 122, 125-9,136, 138-141, 146, 148BIT 192, 196Bovis Construction 58Brixton Women’s Centre 33, 40, 48Broadway Market SquattersAssociation 184Camberwell Squatting Group 57Cambodian Embassy 162Campaign Against CriminalTrespass Law (CACTL) 57,66-7, 87, 156-7, 161Campaign for the Homeless andRootless 192, 223Campaign to Clear Hostels andSlums 122‘Cathy Come Home’ 15Child Poverty Action Group 123Chiswick Women’s Aid 40, 196Church Commissioners 133,197Comittee for the FacelessHomeless 90Committee of 100 15Community Help and InformationProject (Chip) 29Co-operative Housing Agency 91Criminal Law Bill/Act 1977, 3, 85,87-9,94, 96, 151, 155, 161, 189,203, 230, 232‘Criminal Trespass Law’ 71,119,and see Criminal Law BillCromdale Holdings 34-5Crown Estate Commissioners 40,53, 71, 163Demolition Decorators 69, 76EASY (Elgin Avenue Struggles?Yes!) 131-3, 136, 138-141Electricity cut-offs 56, 99, 133-4,162-3Epracent Ltd 123-9Ernest Cook Trust 32Exeter Housing Action Group 229Fairhazel Tenants Association 62Family Squatting Advisory Service(FSAS) 28-31, 69-70, 131-2,see also ASSFederation of Short-Life HousingGroups 94, 101Fire Brigades Union 34Forcible Entry Acts 18, 25, 105,159-61Gay centres 40, 57Gerson Berger group 33‘Goodbye Longfellow Road’ 90Goodhew Developers Ltd 40Government Departments:Board of Trade 119Dept of Energy 56Dept of Environment (DOE)46, 51, 53, 56»90, 99-100,147-8, 150-6, 228, 231Exchequer 119Home Office 119, 231Ministry of Defence 112-3, 228MinistryofHealth113,115,119Ministry of Housing andConstruction 152Ministry of Information 110Ministry of Works 114-9Grandiose Properties Ltd 33Greater London Council (GLC)18,29,40-1,48. 51, 53, 56, 58-9,63, 82, 88-94, 96-9, 121-2,130-142,189, 226-7, 231‘Hard-to-let’ scheme 89‘Homesteading’ 88, 90asLondonCountyCouncil117-9Squatters’amnesty’ 89,115‘Harper’ letter 59, 138Hell’s Angels 23-4Holloway Housing Aid Centre 56Homeless at Xmas 32Housing Action 96-101Convention 96Housing associations 54, 58, 94,149-155, 228Housing co-operatives 2, 47,80-90, 94, 148-155, 227Housing Corporation 90, 94,149-155, 189Housing Emergency Office (HEO)94Ideal Home Exhibition 66-7, 96-7Islington Community Housing 90Lambeth Self-Help Housing144-5, 148, 189Lambeth Trades Council Inquiry145-7Law Commission 57, 87, 160-1Lewisham Family SquattersAssociation 27, 29, 68, 90, 94Licence, definition of 162Living Theatre (London) 33London Boroughs Association 41,228,231,London Electricity Board (LEB)56,133-4, 163, 166London Squatters Campaign 15-8,21,25,27,69London Squatters Union (LSU)86-7, 94, 101London Street Commune 22-5London Tenants Organisation 96Maida Hill Squatters and TenantsAssociation 132-7National Empty Homes Campaign228National Front 19, 57, 193National Union of Students (NUS)47, 161,One-O-One’ers 137Paddington federation of Tenantsand Residents Associations(PFTRA) 131, 133, 135, 141Paddington Law Centre 134‘Persons Unknown’ theatre group182Police 19, 23-4, 48, 57-9, 89, 94-6,110, 113-7, 125-9, 131, 133-4,140-1, 158, 183Association of Chief PoliceOfficers 161Metropolitan Commissioner231Metropolitan Police Solicitor 59Mounted 117Police spiesSpecial Branch 116, 127Special Patrol Group 57, 71,96, 134, 137Prebbles 33Preservation of the Rights ofDossers (PROD) 203Press, attacks on squatters 3, 26-9,58-63, 110-1, 114-6, 135-8,Press, use of by squatters 123129, 131, 189Property Owners ProtectionSociety 27Prudential Assurance Co 114Radio Concorde 137Ravenseft Ltd 142, 147Release 158Rents Project Campaign forBetter Housing 17, 26Rochdale Equitable PioneersSociety 152Rough Theatre 69, 76Ruff, Tuff, Creem Puff EstateAgency 69, 192-8Secret Committee of Ex-Servicemen, see VigilantesSelf-Help Housing ResourceLibrary 94, 99, 101Shelter 15, 29, 70, 192Sierra Leone High Commission161Skippering 14, 198-203South East London Squatters 26‘Squat’ (bi-monthly magazine) 29‘The Squatter’ 184-5Squatters Action Council (SAC)71, 87, 94, 155‘SAC News’ 201Squatters Charter 86-7Squatters Conference (April 1977)87, 155Squatters Convention (May 1975)71Squatters Handbook 69-71‘Squatters News’ 86, 89Squatters Protection Societies 112‘Squatting is Still Legal’ campaign87Stepney Squatters 135Stepney Trades Council 124Stock Converson Ltd 33-5Stop the Blitz Campaign 98-9Student Community Housing(SCH) 29, 31, 69-71, 90, 131-5Tarmac Ltd 142That Tea Room 137-8Tower Hamlets Squatters Union 41Trades Union Congress (TUC) 87,96, 161Travellers 47, 100, 230Trespass, Conspiracy to. 117-9, 161Trespass (Scotland) Act 1865 113,158Vagrancy Acts 23, 57, 111, 199, 203Vietnam Solidarity Campaign 15VigilantesBrighton 110Oakley 32‘Villain’ 145Warwick University 160Westminster Trades Council 131,135Wiltshire Wallies 46239

The contributorsNick Anning, born 1942, formerly lectured at Nottingham University in Russian(1966-76), now a freelance writer and translator. Lived in Charrington Street squat inCamden in the spring of 1973 and has been squatting in Villa Road, Brixton since theend of 1974.Celia Brown, born 1954, squatted briefly in an ‘anarchist’ squat in Lewisham in 1972while still at school and more recently in Vauxhall, Lambeth and Huntley Street, centralLondon. Spent four months as an uneasy ‘do-gooder’ with the St Mungo CommunityTrust for the homeless. Met Ted Eagle an ‘ex-dosser’ who had worked for ‘singlehomeless charities’ and who wanted to start something different. Consequently, starteda research degree on ‘dossers’ in order to be able to help him with PROD – Preservationof the Rights Of Dossers.Piers Corbyn, born 1947, is a ‘squatting, Trotskyite astrophysicist’ who was involved inthe Elgin Avenue squat and in the development of the Squatters Action Council and theLondon Squatters Union. Had tea with the Queen when president of Imperial Collegestudents union. Member of International Marxist Group since 1970 and still active insquatting and physics. Works as a teacher in London.Andrew Friend, born 1952, has been a housing worker at Release and a researcher atGarratt Lane Law Centre in Wandsworth. Lived for four years as a licensed squatter inBrixton and is at present co-authoring a book on the urban crisis to be published byPluto Press in the spring of 1981. Now works as a researcher for the Catholic HousingAid Society.Mark Gimson, born 1951, has been squatting in the Regents Park area of London since1974 in property owned by the Crown Commissioners. Travelled widely throughoutEurope, Africa and China and is now working on community projects with Support, agroup of radical architects and builders.Andrew Ingham, born 1945, worked as a graphic designer before studying architectureand being introduced to ‘housing problems’ and squatting. Has lived in licensed squatsin Crystal Palace and Stockwell since 1971. Author of Self Help House Repairs Manual(Penguin).Caroline Lwin, born 1952, squatted in Tolmers Square, Camden between 1973 and1979. Is an architect and graphic designer and is currently working with a communitydevelopment group in London’s docklands where she now lives.Andy Milburn, born 1951, squatted in 1973 near Tolmers Square, Camden. Afterstudying architecture, for the past six years has worked as a bricklayer and generalbuilder in Sheffield.Pat Moan, born 1950, lived in various squats in Islington and Hackney since 1974.Was involved in the successful campaign to stop the redevelopment of the Charteris Roadarea of Finsbury Park, Islington. Works for the Lenthall Road Workshop which producesgraphics, posters and photos to publicise squatting and other community campaigns.Ann Pettitt, born 1947, tried unsuccessfully to find squatting when a student in Bristol.But squatting found her when she moved to live in the East End of London round thecorner from Arbour Square squat. Lived in London (1969-1977) and worked as a teacherand solicitor’s clerk. Now a semi self-sufficient housewife living on an intensivelycultivated ‘tinyholding’ in Wales where she feeds, kills and eats lots of animals. Isinvolved in the local anti-nuclear and disarmament campaign.Tom Osborn, born 1931, has owned a house on a mortgage and presented a five hourobjection at a compulsory purchase inquiry. In the course of a varied middle class life,has been a doctor, psychiatrist, stage director, translator, group leader, polytechniclecturer and teacher of massage. Squatted in St Agnes Place, Lambeth from 1976 to1978.Steve Platt, born 1954. has lived in squats and licensed property since moving toLondon in 1973. Carried out a research project on squatting in Haringey (1976). Workedfor the Self Help Housing Resources Library for several years and is now a co-ordinatorof Islington Community Housing, a short-life housing group.Jill Simpson, born 1949, came to Villa Road, Brixton, in December 1974 through adesire to live in a communal house and because she felt that what was happening onhousing issues in Lambeth was important. Currently works for a solicitor’s firm inBrixton as a clerk.Colin Ward, born 1924, is the author of Anarchy in Action, Tenants Take Over(Architectural Press), Housing: An Anarchist Approach, (Freedom Press) and TheChild in the City (Architectural Press). Worked for the Town and Country PlanningAssociation until recently.Nick Wates, born 1951, squatted in Tolmers Square, Camden between 1973 and 1979.Wrote The Battle for Tolmers Square (Routledge & Kegan Paul) and was assistant newseditor of Architects’ Journal for two years. Now working as a freelance journalist.David Watkinson, born 1947, is a barrister who has represented and advised squatterson numerous occasions during the past six years both inside and outside his practice.Member of the Campaign Against A Criminal Trespass Law and a founder member ofthe first barrister’s collective in Britain. Co-author of Squatting, Trespass and Civilliberties, a pamphlet published by the National Council for Civil Liberties and is acontributor to Civil Rights Guide (NCCL).Heathcote Williams, born 1941, is a playwright and his plays include AC/DC, TheImmortalist, Hancock’s Half Hour, and The Speakers. Squatted in Notting Hill forseveral years during which time he founded the Ruff Tuff Creem Puff Estate Agencywhich provided free accommodation for the homeless.Christian Wolmar, born 1949, has been a journalist for most of his working life exceptfor a three year period as a housing adviser with Release. Squatted in Villa Road,Brixton for four years. Was a member of the Advisory Service collective for severalyears and helped to produce the two most recent editions of the Squatters Handbook.Co-authored Trouble with the Law, the Release Bust Book (Pluto Press) and currentlyworks for Roof, Shelter’s housing magazine.Tristan Wood, born 1950, trained and worked as a journalist in the West Countrycontributing to several ‘underground’ papers. Moved to London in 1974, squatted inSeymour Buildings in January 1975 where he still lives. Former secretary of theSeymour Buildings Residents’ Group and of Seymour Housing Co-operative. For thepast four years has worked for housing associations and is also a teacher of reevaluationcounselling.240