Failure of a housing estate
Hugh Macpherson
The Gorbals of Glasgow now rests securely in the black museum of inner-city areas Which includes such places as Harlem or the Crater in Aden. It never had the same kind of reputation in Glasgow and, in any case, it was long ago razed to the ground to be replaced by flats designed, some would say regrettably, by Sir Basil Spence. However Glasgow does still have its own ghetto tb Which the natives refer with considerable awe. It is called Blackhill, and Glasgow now faces the unenviable job of trying to correct Years of neglect by the City fathers.
Just as the legend of the Gorbals persists .outside Glasgow, so in the City itself there Is well-attested folklore about Blackhill. kople refer to policemen walking in threes, to houses being stripped of every single accoutrement as soon as they become vacant, down to the kitchen taps, the lavatory seat, and the floorboards, and to locals dying from drinking methylated Spirits. Few save the desperate would accept a Place in this local authority housing estate, and over the years it has developed into a ghetto reinforced by its own reputation. Much of its surviving population is sunk in Chronic apathy and deprivation. Establishing the truth about such an area can be difficult, for those who work there—social workers, politicians and c,lergymen—are sensitive about the people °elng misrepresented. But a walk around Blackhill, and conversations with those working in the area, leave little doubt that it contains some of the most benighted human conditions in the whole of Europe. Yet a third of its inhabitants are decent working people whose homes and Whose children sparkle with cleanliness and who suffer discrimination simply because they live there.
Much the worst part of the estate is its southern end, a miserable wilderness of glass-strewn streets roamed by an incredible number of dogs and children. It is into this area that bus drivers have refused to go because of stoning incidents. The only telephone is inside the small police station, and the depths of apathy to which the local inhabitants have sunk is somehow emphasised by the lack of graffiti on the walls— which at least betoken some rebellion of the human spirit. .Blackhill is a, community of 6,500 lying Within a couple of miles of the city centre and its 1300 or so houses were built mostly in the 1930s. The quality of building is good and similar houses in other areas of the city are pleasant to live in. However, a social study set up by the Strathclyde region last ,Year confirms in effect some of the worst iegends about the area. Almost half of the
population is under fifteen. Housing is severely overcrowded with more than 1.5 persons per room, three times the rate for the rest of overcrowded Glasgow. In one out of six of the houses there is only one parent.
The worker who ends up in Blackhill is usually a labourer—one in three being designated 'unskilled manual.' The proportion for the rest of Scotland is one in ten. In 1971, when the unemployment rate in Scotland was 8 per cent, the Blackhill rate was 33 per cent. Educational attainment is low, the level of health is low; by every social indicator the area is one of appalling deprivation. Indeed the Strathclyde report underplayed, if anything, the worst of Blackhill because the statistics included the northern part of the housing scheme where standards are as high as in other parts of Glasgow. This means that some of the appalling conditions revealed in the report are even worse than the figures would indicate.
Perhaps the most serious aspect of the Blackhill situation is that over the years the local politicians have allowed it to develop into a ghetto by using it as a dumping ground for deprived people. The local Roman Catholic parish priest, Monsignor Coyle, says : We seem to have social work problems from every part of Britain—the Northern Irish, the Welsh. We're a warmhearted city—I think the word must have got around. When some dreadful social problem arrives, the answer is to put them in the lower end of Blackhill for six months.'
Backing for this view came in the social study report. Three out of ten of the area's population had moved from another local authority house within the last five years, and about one in eight move in and out within a year.
Not surprisingly the permanent population have turned into an entrenched community which they value because it offers the security of acceptance. There is no social disgrace, for example, in not paying the rent. 'Moonlighting' (that is, shifting house in the night to avoid rent) and evictions are major problems in Glasgow. The housing department discovered that between 1967 and 1971 the average number of cases for the whole city, with its 170,000 council houses, was just over one in a hundred. In Blackhill, for the same period, the figure was 18.6 per cent—almost one in five.
If electricity is cut off for non-payment, the tenant will think nothing of rigging a cable to the next house which in turn may not pay when the bill comes in. In this situation many of the normal standards of society have simply disappeared. One man lives with a wife and five children while on the other side of the landing he has a mistress with another six of his offspring. Once a week he watches over all eleven while the two ladies go together to the bingo.
Among the local people there is a remarkable loyalty to the area and considerable kindness towards each other. For example, in a town with a long history of religious tensions, a Roman Catholic woman gave a share of her family grave to a Protestant family which lost a child and had nowhere to bury it. And unlike many middle-class areas of Britain there is never any problem in caring for a large family if the mother goes into hospital: the neighbours simply take the children into their homes. Nor do old people lie dead, but unnoticed, for weeks on end. As to crime, there is little or nothing to steal in the area, although it may provide a residence for those who commit crimes elsewhere. The main problem is juvenile delinquency—which is hardly surprising with half the population under fifteen. The local police encounter virtually no violence against themselves. Destruction turns inwards, with domestic brawls, many of which go unremarked, and unreported, unless very serious.
In May of last year the Secretary of State for Scotland announced his consent for an urban renewal scheme which, even in these days of local government economies, would divert more than ten million pounds into the area. In some ways it is the culmination of years of pressure from those working in the area—the clergy, social workers and the excellent local councillor, Duncan Mason. The money is to be spent on cleaning the flats both outside and inside, on improving the local environment, and on providing supervision by social workers—indeed a massive and expensive exercise in social engineering.
The scheme, if implemented, is due to start this summer, but can it redeem the area? Washing the stone exteriors and putting stainless steel sinks in the kitchens will not necessarily change human nature even if supervised by an army of social workers. Perhaps the best treatment for Blackhill would be to bulldoze it down and give the people houses elsewhere. For ghettos do not disappear below coats of paint. Time and perhaps ten million pounds will tell.
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