“It’s amazing how many buildings you can break into and find there’s already someone squatting in there,” says a woman known as Beth, who in her four or so years of squatting has had this happen three times.
London is about as close to a squatter’s paradise as an empty home hunter can hope to find because there are so many places to squat and people to squat them with. In decades past squatters have made themselves and their goals loud and clear, and though movements have fizzled, rent-free living has never died out in London. It’s as ubiquitous as it has ever been, though it’s difficult to know exact numbers with the silent state that it’s in.
Beth now occupies, alongside 29 others, one of London’s few remaining publicized squats, a University College of London building in Russell Square. Squats in the city are one of two sorts, either the social centre with expressed political goals, or the purely residential, generally kept on the low-down. The Square Social Centre fits clearly in the first category with its café space and extensive calendar of workshops and benefit events, taking place on the floors below the offices-come-bedrooms. Social centre squats like this generally make demands for affordable housing, provide public space in protest at privatization and corporatization, support radical education or community building, or all of the above. But these squats are very few, and even at the Square Social Centre they’ll tell you that originally the squat was mainly just a practical solution to their homelessness. Some will tell you that all squats are inherently political, but still there is a conspicuous lack of uprising. A Square squatter whom we’ll call John, 23, says that in London “there’s not really any organized squatting movement now at all,” and the other residents agree with a shrug.
London had squatting upsurges after both world wars when the returning veterans’ “homes fit for heroes” failed to materialize. Another movement began at the end of the 1960s with families living in vile conditions in East London hostels. Their campaigns forced councils to offer temporary shelter in their derelict abandoned properties, and these short life licences are still offered today, to those who fit very particular criteria. Once families were striking deals young individuals saw an opportunity, but they quickly learned councils were not so willing to give them a hand. They found an added foe in the family squatters themselves, who were embarrassed by media attention given to some particularly chaotic squats. The cleverly-acronymed Advisory Service for Squatters was conceived amid the clashes of these two groups. It was created to help the individuals, but without excluding families, and has been serving squatters in need ever since.
ASS is based in a one room office above the Freedom Bookshop on Whitechapel High Street. Responsible for dealing with the wide variety of squatter requirements across all of England and Wales, the office gets a tad hectic. Collective member Myk Zeitlin, running the office on his own, hangs up one phone only to have another start ringing on the opposite desk. “Oh, this is nothing,” he says.
ASS has tried to make estimates on the number of squatters in London, but has found no reliable way to track the rather sneaky practice. But to give a vague idea, in April 2005 the number of empty homes in London was a colossal 91,219, according to the Empty Homes Agency, which exists to highlight the waste of empty property in England. Abandoned pubs and factories can also be made into homes. As explained in the DIY section of the Squatters Handbook (of which ASS has sold over 160,000 copies since 1976) it’s not hard to make even unusual places quite liveable.
The main business of ASS is to keep up to date with the law, with some help from a very large set of the Encyclopedia of Housing: Law and Practice, shelved alongside a small library that lines the walls. Advising squatters on how to deal with the many sorts of complaints they get from the authorities, explaining what their court papers mean, while also offering practical advice like how to choose an abandoned abode, is a full-time job. The laws on squatting are extensive and filled with catches and loopholes, but above all squatting is legal (though still unlawful, making it a civil matter between squatter and landlord). ASS works to ensure that the fact that squatting is legal and possible is known. John says the legal position here is the reason he and so many others can live as they do, with no thanks to society. Other European cities may be equally hospitable to squatting even though the law forbids it, according to John, because there’s a different culture that is more supportive. Myk adds, “The cops tend to be comparatively decent in London. In smaller places they tend to be more arbitrary.”
Squatters still get in trouble with the law, most commonly on the grounds of “abstracting” electricity. Arrests never seem to amount to any charges as that’s not what they’re after, says Myk. Rather electricity thieves are kept at the station just long enough for landlords to repossess their buildings while they can. This is one of a few ways to evict a squat, as an unguarded one is vulnerable. If squatters are unlucky enough to have popped out for lunch at precisely the time the authorities come knocking, they’ll be out of a home. They have the right not to be evicted in any way that doesn’t follow proper legal process, and gaining entry against the wishes of the occupiers or removing them by force can yield a hefty fine and up to six months in prison. Educated squatters know how to use the laws to their advantage.
The average lifespan of a London squat is about three months, but with a bit of research beforehand squatters can enjoy their homes for years. For a mere £2, anyone can access the Land Registry on the internet and find out the owner of any property in England and Wales. It is always best to know the plans for the property, as one with impending tenancy will be evicted on very short notice. Council properties tend to make better squats than private ones, particularly ones awaiting demolition or renovation, because in that case whole estates can be empty for a long time. Eviction within the first months or even weeks can be frustrating as some squatters put a great deal of work into their homes which have often been left to deteriorate or, in some cases, have been purposely made unliveable by landlords in an effort to fend off unwanted residents. John once entered a home near Baker Street station, hoping to make it his own, only to discover that every one of the many toilets had been filled with concrete. On the contrary, squatters might find friends in unlikely parties, as some owners see tidy tenants as the protectors of their temporarily empty property. They’ll turn a blind eye rather than bothering with the eviction process only to have their property squatted again and perhaps by more unpleasant people.
Learning the tricks of the trade to ensure a long life for a squatted home without trouble from the law is not as easy as it has been. Squatter support groups that used to be across London have died off. They could be very helpful in offering all sorts of services, Myk says, and made his job a bit easier. Myk explains that the groups disappeared along with social housing movements. In corroboration with the word among squatters, “There isn’t that kind of campaign going on,” he says, adding, “There should be.” He attributes this to the fact that London is so expensive that people just can’t afford to be out of a job, and it’s the unemployed that often lead these movements, as they did in the 1970s. The large number of foreign squatters in London also helps to explain the lull. A small majority of the clientele at ASS is from abroad, primarily Eastern Europe, because these people don’t have rights to housing and so are likely to start squats. But they also do not wish to risk contact with the police, and so contribute to the silence of squatters.
This is not to say squatting has lost its political edge. The Square Social Centre may be one of the last squats to openly voice a political purpose, but as they say at ASS, shelter is a basic human right. Therefore all squatters are fighting for their right. “They really have to believe in what they’re doing,” says Myk, “because it’s a lot of work.”
At ASS they also facilitate the growth of a squatters’ community. There’s a steady flow of people in the office who’ve come to check out the message board with ads from squatters either in need of a squat or looking for people to join theirs, and addresses of empty buildings people have spotted. The community comprises people that are not necessarily, or even usually, part of any subculture. “You don’t have to have a silly haircut,” Myk says, quoting a book of interviews with American squatters he once read. They’re not all living in their abandoned properties out of desperation, either. Desire, not just need, drives people to squat. Someone may be able to pay for a place but wants more space than he or she can afford. And for those who wish to spare themselves what can be a painfully slow and degrading process of applying for housing, squatting can seem an empowering alternative. So long as it’s legal and neglected homes abundant, it seems squatters will be drawn to them in quiet droves.