Where is Sir Titus Salt when you need him, eh? Your mileage may vary of course, but despite the strenuous even-handededness of the opening of Manctopia: Billion Pound Property Boom (BBC Two), it would, I suspect, have been hard for most of us not to yearn for a world in which capitalism could expect to be fettered if not by a strong, egalitarian-minded government (I know, I’m laughing as I type) then at least by idiosyncratic blends of philanthropy, Christian duty, moral obligation and practicality, occasionally embodied in rich and powerful individuals.
The new four-part documentary series about the massive redevelopment of Manchester city centre – where the population has doubled to 60,000 since George Osborne announced his “northern powerhouse” plan in 2014 – followed the stories of people emblematic of the haves and the have-nots. With every pocket of still-affordable housing that is razed and every luxury high-rise that goes up, these two groups are becoming even more distinguishable, with the series illuminating the effects of gentrification – especially in its fastest, most forcible form – on a region.
On the “haves” side were estate agent owner Jennie Platt, whose days are spent showing clients round £1m-plus flats, where the state-of-the-art hobs remain unused even after three sets of tenants have been and gone, and property developer Tim Heatley. He is spending £2m a week transforming the decidedly ropey area around Manchester Piccadilly station in the hope of making what he is rebranding as “Piccadilly East” the new destination of choice for investors and well-heeled renters.
As mentioned, the makers have resisted the temptation to make this a story of downtrodden heroes and money-mad villains. In Heatley, they have found someone who comes across as human and humane – a businessman presented with an opportunity to make a lot of something out of a lot of nothing, rather than a diabolical being wishing to become lord and master of all he lucratively surveys. “You can feel the city bashing up against itself,” he says, showing us a squalid patch of the derelict land “on the edge of the doughnut of deprivation” on which he is building. It is littered with drug paraphernalia and has the price of a blowjob written on a piece of wood propped up against the rickety fence (£4.99, and God forgive me but I did wonder why you’d want to introduce even the notion of dealing with change in such a set-up).
On the have-nots-and-soon-to-have-less side is Christina Hughes. Despite never missing a rent payment or bill, thanks to a 30-hour-a-week job and living near her mother who can provide childcare while she works, rapid gentrification has meant she has been given an eviction notice by her landlady. Rents have increased so much that she will almost certainly have to leave the area, taking the children out of school and the family away from its support network.
In the could-hardly-have-less-already corner are two long-term clients of the Narrowgate homeless shelter – Richard Ravenscroft, whose settled life fell apart after his brother died suddenly, and Michael Washington, who has struggled with alcoholism for most of his life. They have become the very best of friends, and clearly find strength and support in each other that little else provides. As single, relatively fit men with no dependents they are low-priority candidates for the tiny amount of council accommodation available. “I’ve no purpose,” Richard says, as they face another day of aimless walking. “That’s a very silly way of thinking,” Michael, the older of the two, gently chides.
If the programme avoids the pitfalls of demonisation and sanctification, it perhaps does fall into the trap of focusing too narrowly on individual stories. It does provide some figures and frightening statistics (rents are up 40% over the last five years, there are some 97,000 people on the region’s housing waiting list, and so on), and gives enough detailed attention to the points allocation and bidding process that applicants must go through for its inhumanity to speak for itself. But in more and more febrile, extraordinary times it feels increasingly that this is no longer enough. The absence of specific information on which governments and policies got us to this place feels almost like a moral failure at this point.Or maybe we should just run a reality show contest to find the next Titus Salt. Who can say?
