Adam Hawksbee is Deputy Director of the think tank Onward.
What gives you pride in your area? If you close your eyes and think about the things in your town, village, or city that make you proud, which features come to mind? What makes you feel happy to call it home?
You’re likely thinking about one of four things: a historic building, a public park, a sports club, or a pub.
This list might sound overly simple. But my time spent in towns across Britain, both at the think tank Onward and more recently as chair of the Government’s Towns Unit, suggests that some or all of these elements underpin local pride. Where they are looked after, places feel happier; where they are forgotten, areas quickly feel lost. The sense of pride they engender doesn’t just matter for an area’s psychology but can underpin long-term prosperity.
First, historic buildings. Heritage connects a local area to its past, making local identity tangible. One resident in South Shields told me she drives the long way home every day to get a glimpse of their Edwardian Town Hall. In Clacton residents speak of the pride they get from Clacton Pier, open since the late 19th Century and only fifty years ago host to dolphins and killer whales in an open-air aquarium. Some of these buildings connect an area’s economic past and future: in Burnley, the formerly derelict Newtown Mill is being transformed into a campus for the University of Central Lancashire.
In too many towns, these pieces of the past are falling into disrepair. Irresponsible foreign owners or cash-strapped councils struggle with upkeep: Historic England’s “Heritage at Risk Register” had almost 5,000 sites throughout 2023. In many towns, it’s Wetherspoons who have stepped into the breach, turning old cinemas, churches, and town halls into modern civic spaces. Where these buildings are boarded up or covered in graffiti, it’s a collective insult to an area’s identity and a painful hit to their pride.
Second, public parks. In Walsall, residents boast about the 170 acre Arboretum in the middle of town. A South Tyneside business owner claimed that the beachfront made his patch “the Algarve with a fleece”. Ask any resident of Darwen what makes it unique, and they’ll point to the Darwen Moor. Green spaces allow people to walk their dogs and catch their breath after a long day, in a ritual linked to a particular place.
The problem with many of our parks is that they feel unsafe. In the most deprived parts of the country, stubbornly high levels of antisocial behaviour turn residents away, particularly women and girls. In some, parks have become hotspots for county lines drug crime, with young people congregating for all the wrong reasons.
Third, sports clubs. If you ask someone in Oldham about the fortune of their town, they’ll point you to Oldham Athletic – the only football team in history to go from Premier League to non-league. The impact of irresponsible foreign ownership wasn’t just felt on the pitch, but in a fracturing of the relationship between the club and the community. Pitch invaders at the final game before Oldham’s relegation held a banner with a simple message: “Get out of our club”.
In other areas, clubs are building a sense of belonging. Once a year, every eight-year-old in Accrington gets a free Accrington Stanley football shirt – around 1,000 kids who turn up at the club in coaches to be handed their kit from a member of the first team. That’s partly because Andy Holt, club chairman and a local businessman, couldn’t stand seeing the kids in kits for Blackburn or (worse) Liverpool. But it’s also a core part of how the Accrington Stanley Community Foundation sees its role in building a positive local identity.
Fourth, pubs or cafes. In the 1980s, the sociologist Ray Oldenburg wrote about “The Great Good Place”, the third spaces that are neither work nor home and build a sense of local community. Our “Great Good Places” look a little different today to the traditional pub or coffee shop. In Barry, South Wales, the former pumphouse for the docks now hosts a cocktail and espresso bar full of prams and puppies. The Kings Head in Blyth is a converted pub hosting a community cafe and gallery displaying local artists. In Bexhill people gather on the balconies of the De La Warr Pavilion, a 1930s Modernist music venue situated on the waterfront.
Many of these spaces are also under threat. A toxic cocktail of tight labour markets, high energy costs, business rates, and soaring rents means that even popular haunts are shutting their doors. Every closure chips away at local pride, as high streets become dotted with bookies and vape shops.
Some say that all of these features of a place are just about how rich or poor it is. Focusing on an area’s social fabric, on what Rachel Wolf of Public First refers to as “hanging baskets and graffiti on the cenotaph”, is just a distraction from the economic fundamentals.
What this argument misses is the link between pride and prosperity. Recently, I had a chance to visit Nelson, in Pendle, and speak with a dozen or so teenagers in a youth centre about their hopes for the town. I asked the group whether any of them wanted to stay in Nelson. They all, in disbelieving unison, said no. When pressed, one young person sitting quietly in the corner offered his reason: “They can’t even be bothered to put up Christmas lights here – they don’t care, why should I?”
When there’s no pride in a place or sense of belonging, those with talent, means and motive move away. The majority remain and resent it. Treasury models too often miss this – there’s no way to regenerate left-behind towns unless they become places people are proud to stay in. Although heritage, parks, football clubs, and pubs might seem trivial, they are the intangible anchors that encourage people to look for jobs locally, tolerate a slightly longer commute, or try to start a business in their hometown.
All of this puts a premium on stewardship, a principle at the heart of conservatism. The assets that build pride can take generations to acquire their power but can have it dashed in moments. Irresponsible owners, whether foreign businessmen or poorly managed councils, damage far more than their bottom line when they fail – they tear our social fabric.
Pride may seem ephemeral, difficult for Whitehall to measure, and even harder for policy to create. But we can protect it, by identifying what people are proud of and ensuring that those features are guarded, invested in, and celebrated.
People deserve to be proud of the places they live in. Our politics should focus more on building that pride.
Adam Hawksbee is Deputy Director of the think tank Onward.
What gives you pride in your area? If you close your eyes and think about the things in your town, village, or city that make you proud, which features come to mind? What makes you feel happy to call it home?
You’re likely thinking about one of four things: a historic building, a public park, a sports club, or a pub.
This list might sound overly simple. But my time spent in towns across Britain, both at the think tank Onward and more recently as chair of the Government’s Towns Unit, suggests that some or all of these elements underpin local pride. Where they are looked after, places feel happier; where they are forgotten, areas quickly feel lost. The sense of pride they engender doesn’t just matter for an area’s psychology but can underpin long-term prosperity.
First, historic buildings. Heritage connects a local area to its past, making local identity tangible. One resident in South Shields told me she drives the long way home every day to get a glimpse of their Edwardian Town Hall. In Clacton residents speak of the pride they get from Clacton Pier, open since the late 19th Century and only fifty years ago host to dolphins and killer whales in an open-air aquarium. Some of these buildings connect an area’s economic past and future: in Burnley, the formerly derelict Newtown Mill is being transformed into a campus for the University of Central Lancashire.
In too many towns, these pieces of the past are falling into disrepair. Irresponsible foreign owners or cash-strapped councils struggle with upkeep: Historic England’s “Heritage at Risk Register” had almost 5,000 sites throughout 2023. In many towns, it’s Wetherspoons who have stepped into the breach, turning old cinemas, churches, and town halls into modern civic spaces. Where these buildings are boarded up or covered in graffiti, it’s a collective insult to an area’s identity and a painful hit to their pride.
Second, public parks. In Walsall, residents boast about the 170 acre Arboretum in the middle of town. A South Tyneside business owner claimed that the beachfront made his patch “the Algarve with a fleece”. Ask any resident of Darwen what makes it unique, and they’ll point to the Darwen Moor. Green spaces allow people to walk their dogs and catch their breath after a long day, in a ritual linked to a particular place.
The problem with many of our parks is that they feel unsafe. In the most deprived parts of the country, stubbornly high levels of antisocial behaviour turn residents away, particularly women and girls. In some, parks have become hotspots for county lines drug crime, with young people congregating for all the wrong reasons.
Third, sports clubs. If you ask someone in Oldham about the fortune of their town, they’ll point you to Oldham Athletic – the only football team in history to go from Premier League to non-league. The impact of irresponsible foreign ownership wasn’t just felt on the pitch, but in a fracturing of the relationship between the club and the community. Pitch invaders at the final game before Oldham’s relegation held a banner with a simple message: “Get out of our club”.
In other areas, clubs are building a sense of belonging. Once a year, every eight-year-old in Accrington gets a free Accrington Stanley football shirt – around 1,000 kids who turn up at the club in coaches to be handed their kit from a member of the first team. That’s partly because Andy Holt, club chairman and a local businessman, couldn’t stand seeing the kids in kits for Blackburn or (worse) Liverpool. But it’s also a core part of how the Accrington Stanley Community Foundation sees its role in building a positive local identity.
Fourth, pubs or cafes. In the 1980s, the sociologist Ray Oldenburg wrote about “The Great Good Place”, the third spaces that are neither work nor home and build a sense of local community. Our “Great Good Places” look a little different today to the traditional pub or coffee shop. In Barry, South Wales, the former pumphouse for the docks now hosts a cocktail and espresso bar full of prams and puppies. The Kings Head in Blyth is a converted pub hosting a community cafe and gallery displaying local artists. In Bexhill people gather on the balconies of the De La Warr Pavilion, a 1930s Modernist music venue situated on the waterfront.
Many of these spaces are also under threat. A toxic cocktail of tight labour markets, high energy costs, business rates, and soaring rents means that even popular haunts are shutting their doors. Every closure chips away at local pride, as high streets become dotted with bookies and vape shops.
Some say that all of these features of a place are just about how rich or poor it is. Focusing on an area’s social fabric, on what Rachel Wolf of Public First refers to as “hanging baskets and graffiti on the cenotaph”, is just a distraction from the economic fundamentals.
What this argument misses is the link between pride and prosperity. Recently, I had a chance to visit Nelson, in Pendle, and speak with a dozen or so teenagers in a youth centre about their hopes for the town. I asked the group whether any of them wanted to stay in Nelson. They all, in disbelieving unison, said no. When pressed, one young person sitting quietly in the corner offered his reason: “They can’t even be bothered to put up Christmas lights here – they don’t care, why should I?”
When there’s no pride in a place or sense of belonging, those with talent, means and motive move away. The majority remain and resent it. Treasury models too often miss this – there’s no way to regenerate left-behind towns unless they become places people are proud to stay in. Although heritage, parks, football clubs, and pubs might seem trivial, they are the intangible anchors that encourage people to look for jobs locally, tolerate a slightly longer commute, or try to start a business in their hometown.
All of this puts a premium on stewardship, a principle at the heart of conservatism. The assets that build pride can take generations to acquire their power but can have it dashed in moments. Irresponsible owners, whether foreign businessmen or poorly managed councils, damage far more than their bottom line when they fail – they tear our social fabric.
Pride may seem ephemeral, difficult for Whitehall to measure, and even harder for policy to create. But we can protect it, by identifying what people are proud of and ensuring that those features are guarded, invested in, and celebrated.
People deserve to be proud of the places they live in. Our politics should focus more on building that pride.