Just over 20 years ago, the then senior editor at The Economist, Frances Cairncross, published arguably the most influential and widely-read late 20th century study of technological change on economic and social life. It was called The Death of Distance.
Part investigation of what had already happened, part prediction of what would happen next, it chimed perfectly with a globalised, self-confident moment when Bill Clinton was still President of the United States and Tony Blair had just been elected British Prime Minister. The Berlin Wall had been torn down eight years previously, and the Soviet Union had been in its grave for six.
The infinite potential for the “world wide web” to underpin the world-wide spread of free markets, liberalism and good governance seemed hard to argue with. Prices would fall. Markets would open. That long-predicted phenomenon, the global village, would finally come to pass. And politics would be reduced to a periodic shuffling of the managerial team — based not on ideology but on “key performance indicators“. For a few years, The Death of Distance was a must-read to be picked up in airport bookstalls by executives living the globalised dream, and stored in briefcases alongside 2G mobile phones and very early Blackberries.
In 2019, such fin de siècle dreams seem very far away. Place still matters. The most successful cities and areas continue to pull away from the rest under almost any metric you care to use, whether economic growth, life chances, health or lifespan — and this is particularly true if you are poor. Meanwhile, far from being reduced to a “retail” exercise in choosing different variants of the same globalised flavour, British politics is now an all all-you-can-eat buffet — from full-service socialism through dirigiste Toryism to a post-Brexit bonfire of the regulations.
The social enterprise that I run, Create Streets, understands that place will always matter. We work with community groups to co-design proposals to try to improve them. This has allowed us to form a snapshot of how people feel about where they live and what is happening to it. Whether rich or poor, town or country, nearly everyone worries about the current state and future outlook of where they live. Of course, there is an economic side to this, especially in ex-industrial or seaside towns where shops, pubs or services are closing. And, depending on your politics, you may wish to blame “austerity”, as crime rises and begging and homelessness rise.
But, grievous though these are, there is something more profound going on even in quite prosperous areas: people are losing their sense of home, of their place in the world. They worry that their local neighbourhoods have lost, are losing or are going to lose their heart, their sense of being from here.
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