We have to rein in meddling councils

The successful judicial review brought by West Dulwich campaigners against a Low Traffic Neighbourhood gives hope to residents elsewhere that similar schemes may be ruled illegal.

Supporters of the West Dulwich Action Group raised £50 000 to take Lambeth Council to court after the council went ahead with the LTN despite its own consultation returning a majority (67.5 per cent) unhappy with the scheme. Earlier this month, Judge Smith ruled that there had been a “serious failing” by the authorities and that Lambeth “had not taken into account all material considerations”.

The judgment — the first of its kind, which sets a legal precedent — raises a host of questions. The first and most obvious concerns the repayment of the fines issued to those who fell foul of the cameras enforcing the scheme: since the LTN was introduced last September, Lambeth has raked in over a million in fines.

Lambeth seems unchastened by the ruling. Deputy leader Rezina Chowdray says the LTN will “remain in place” while awaiting “further directions from the court”, which I take to mean “what they can get away with”. This refusal to internalise feedback, whether it comes from a High Court judge or the residents councillors are elected to serve, is part of a pattern. Lambeth, home to the notorious Streatham Wells LTN which was suspended last year amid highly-publicised chaos, is planning yet more LTNs. The latest is the “Wyvil Healthy Neighbourhood” — a new name for roadblocks in an area I’ve never heard of despite knowing Lambeth for decades.

I know this municipal tone-deafness all too well. Two years ago, I co-founded a campaign against Bristol’s first LTN — “Liveable Neighbourhood” in Bristolian corporate jargon — and have since watched Bristol City Council disregard every one of the many ways in which locals told them they did not want the scheme. These included a majority opposition in the council consultation and a petition signed by thousands. The Facebook group that sprung up in response to the first roadblocks told a community-wide tale of woe, with post after post detailing longer journey times and hours stuck in traffic. There was talk of feeling trapped and of selling up. Some residents even lay down in the road to stop the contractors installing the roadblocks. The council responded with a mix of stealth and brute force, bringing the police in to “protect” the contractors as they installed the roadblocks overnight. It is planning a new, larger LTN in the south of Bristol.

Should councillors’ proven disregard for the public be considered malfeasance? If so, what should the consequences be? Resignation? Should there be financial compensation for the suffering and loss of business their measures cause?

It’s time to take a step back and look at the role and powers of councils

These questions don’t fully address the deeper issues raised by councils appearing to go ultra vires — “beyond the law”. Taxpayers would pick up the bill for any compensation: even the repayment of the fines of Lambeth’s illegal scheme will carry an administrative burden. If you’re a thick-skinned councillor or senior official carried away by a sense of your own power, there’s no real consequence for going against the will of the people — and unlike West Dulwich, which is home to affluent professionals, many communities don’t have the resources to mount legal challenges.

It’s time to take a step back and look at the role and powers of councils. Once — which I saw in a previous life as a public policy journalist covering local government — they behaved as local service providers whose purpose was to collect the rubbish and administer social care. If they had time and money available, councils might engage in “community initiatives”. But they were never there to impose way-of-life changing policies, arrogating the right to decide who goes where and at what price.

Covid saw a sea-change in the behaviour of councils. Encouraged by central government, the first LTNs were about making streets “safe” from infectious disease. Without any public debate or parliamentary scrutiny, this morphed into Active Travel and, depending on who’s speaking, closing roads became about climate, pollution, congestion or safety. Using Experimental Traffic Regulation Orders as the legal basis, councils “nudged” people out of their cars through the simple expedient of making driving more difficult. 

Clean Air Schemes punish the owners of older vehicles by making them drive the long way round. Meanwhile the cost of parking permits has risen steadily, forming a stealth tax on car ownership. A decade ago, research by esure demonstrated that they had risen by an average of 51 per cent. Now, Islington Council, for example, can charge a car owner £860 for the privilege of parking outside their own home. The justifications vary from managing congestion to the need to raise more revenue, but to the average citizen they’re just another charge they pay to the authorities.

The growing autocratic nature of councils is a trend which extends beyond traffic

As I wrote for The Critic last year, I was dismayed to arrive in Avebury for the Summer Solstice and find the local authorities had commandeered the entire area. Bollards and plastic fencing made it impossible to park for miles around; even residents were not “allowed” to receive visitors by car. We found an illicit corner a long walk away from the stones and toughed it out. But I would not be tempted to return to a gathering that felt like a cross between a school sports day and a military occupation.

The growing autocratic nature of councils is a trend which extends beyond traffic. Last year, Thanet District Council attempted to control what people say in public. Under a Public Space Protection Order “all persons [were] prohibited from using foul or abusive language in such a manner that is loud and can be heard by others and cause either alarm or distress to any other person in any public place.” Miscreants could be issued with fines of up to £100 by police or council enforcement officers. The council backed down after the Free Speech Union threatened to take them to court.

There are other examples beyond the scope of this piece. For example, with councils’ talk of restricting the consumption of meat to save the planet, it’s not beyond the bounds of possibility for Net Zero-obsessed councillors to make trading licences conditional on veganism or a “meat levy”.

Do we really want to live this in modern Britain? We’ve come a long way from the times when the land was carved up into fiefdoms, their inhabitants expected to abide by whatever rules their particular overlord saw fit to impose. We seem to be sliding into a future where you need permits to go about your daily life. In East Bristol a council official must decide you’re an “official” carer before you can get an exemption to drive into the new LTN and in Oxford residents are going to be allocated a ration of permits in order to drive between “zones”.

Yesenda Maxtone Graham writes that the ruling against the Lambeth LTN gives Oxford residents suffering under the Cowley LTN known as “Gant’s gridlock” hope. Wyvil campaigners are hoping they can learn from the West Dulwich group and mount their own legal action. But it’s a crying shame that we’ve arrived at a point where communities repeatedly have to fight for their rights, expending huge amounts of energy and money in the process. It’s important to remember that judicial review focuses on the legality of an issue rather than its desirability or morality; another ruling could favour an oppressive council, leaving locals stuck behind their bollards.

It’s clear the current system isn’t robust enough to protect us from overbearing councils. Consultation results are disregarded. Residents’ protests don’t work. Media coverage has no effect. Legal rulings are taken lightly. What’s a democracy to do?

Should formal limits be put on the powers of councils? Do local citizens need a charter of rights? It’s high time we had a constitutional-style conversation about the role and reach of the town hall.