Psychosocial relationships: William Morris, Walthamstow and gentrification

William Morris (1834-1896), noted designer and socialist, spent six years of his life, from the age of fourteen to twenty-two in what is now the William Morris Gallery in Lloyd Park, E17. Of course, many London buildings and even houses are marked by a, sometimes short, residency by famous public figures. They give culture and flavor to an area, often done as part of local area boosterism.

In Walthamstow, I would argue there is a confluence between the psychosocial spatiality of the area and the legacy of William Morris. This is, of course, much to do with the history of the house itself. The William Morris Gallery was first established in Morris's old residency in 1950, with artists Sir Frank Brangwyn and Arthur Mackmurdo donating collections to it, as well as housing many artifacts from Morris himself. From 2011 to 2012 it was substantially renovated, and as I have noted elsewhere on this blog, has become a key flagship regeneration project and influence.

Looking more closely, however, at the now sanitised history of the William Morris Gallery, other confluences become more important. Morris was a socialist and activist, challenging both social injustices and the idea that the working-class should live an aesthetically impoverished life. An often-neglected fact of the Gallery's history is that Waltham Forest Council tried to sell the building twice, along with all its contents, and it was only rescued and eventually renovated as a result of a sustained campaign by residents. Residents surely felt that their heritage, what makes their locale special, should not be sold off to the highest bidder, merely because Waltham Forest was an impoverished borough hampered by a Council with a similarly impoverished imagination, according to one commentator. 

Despite the fact that the slogan by Morris “Fellowship is life, and lack of fellowship is death,” is engraved on the walls of the Town Hall, it took the population of Walthamstow and beyond to fully realise Morris’s vision and potential. Socialism, or fellowship if you prefer, is always embodied by the actions of the people, and maybe we need landmarks of our common history to remind us what to do in times of crisis and neglect.

The fellowship of Walthamstow is not just confined to the Gallery, however. For some reason, a historical memory of this activism hangs about the air like the diesel fumes from the North Circular. Walthamstow does not accept treating people who lack wealth like they are nothing, and it does not tolerate racism (there are of course racists in the Borough, it’s just that they feel inclined to be quiet about it, which is sometimes better than nothing). It has found ways to work together and to make do, like the excellent Walthamstow Sell or Swap Facebook group and other spirited community groups.

Not to romanticise, Walthamstow has immense social problems and sometimes, in the words of the sociologist Jock Young (spoken of London not just WF), a ‘lightly engaged community.' But somehow, the greater sense of togetherness alleviates some of the worst stresses of living in this fraught city. At least, that's what it has felt like in the five years I have lived here. Like all communities, it has its arguments, but the overall impact is one that produces security. It is like many in the population have listened to the historical residue of Morris and said, "yes, we will at least try.” I have referred to Walthamstow in the past as a great example of what sociologists like to call community resilience.

I wonder how much of this sense of community will prevail with the current drive to gentrification? It has been whispered that some of the new businesses coming into the area have not shown enthusiasm for working with local people or local businesses. High-rise flat developments are springing up everywhere, and if the Panama Papers tell us anything, it’s that they won’t be bought by local families or even people who want to live in them. People are all being priced out of the housing market, or, in the case of the Butterfields Estate scandal, having their homes forcibly sold from underneath them. Anecdotally, there seems to be less of a desire to strike up conversations with total strangers; a phenomenon has always been an interesting feature of traditional Walthamstow. The dual impact of austerity and gentrification may create a rapidly divided population, which also fragments and segregates space and culture.

So what can be done, if we don’t just want to witness this transformation with passive acceptance?

Next City published an illuminating shortarticle about how to resist gentrification, and the overall emphasis was making use of local expertise, encouraging democratisation, and making sure the community retains a balance of its existing population by making them stakeholders in local change. Other methods have also been tried in the US, such as the example of West Berkeley. Seemingly in this most rapacious of capitalist economies, people have found ways to resist.

At home, there has been a petition going around the area arguing for a need for Waltham Forest to set up a Design Panel to ensure the ‘soul’ of Walthamstow doesn't get lost. Design, of course, has a variety of meanings. It's not just about aesthetics. Design can be about community building, creating social space, and security. Seeing this in place would be a great movement. A panel can bring together expertise and opinion to understand and respond to planning proposals. It could pull in stakeholders across the Borough.

It's worth doing something. Making William Morris into a figurehead for the gentrification of Walthamstow would be too much of a horrible irony.

Header image by John W. Schulze. 

I am pleased to report that the Butterfields Estate has been purchased by Dolphin Living, and is safe, for now.