A Liverpool Case Study of the Design Dimension of Planning and Development Processes

Can a design-led approach to redevelopment deliver city centre regeneration? A Liverpool case study of the design dimension of planning and development processes

A thesis submitted to The University of Manchester for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Town Planning in the Faculty of Humanities

2017

Victoria Lawson

School of Environment, Education and Development

Contents Contents 1 List of Figures 7 List of Tables 9 Abstract 10 Declaration of Authority 11 Copyright Statement 11 Dedication 12 About the Author 12

Chapter One: Introduction 13 1.1 Introduction 13 1.2 Funding urban-scale development 15 1.3 The rise of the outdoor mall 16 1.4 Introducing the case study 18 1.5 The rationale 19 1.7 Justification 20 1.8 The structure of the thesis 22

Chapter Two: Reviewing the literature and framing the study 24 2.1 Statement of purpose 24 2.2 The development of capitalism and the growth of cities 24 2.3 Urbanised capitalism and aesthetics 25 2.4 Pursuing design quality in the built environment 27 2.4.1 Defining ‘design led’ in the production of space 30 2.4.2 The public’s influence on design 31 2.5 Towards a theoretical framework 33 2.5.1 Critical realism 33 2.5.2 The selection of key theories 35 2.6 Postpolitics 36 2.6.1 Masterplanning 39 2.6.2 Stakeholder practices 41 2.6.3 The ‘design meta-narrative’ 41 2.6.4 Public-private partnerships 41 2.6.5 Shadow consultations 42 2.6.6 Delegated powers 42 2.6.7 The press 42 2.7 Democratic urban settings 43

2.7.1 Privatisation of space 43 2.7.2 Phantom firms 43 2.8 The city makers 44 2.9 Semiotics 45 2.9.1 Problem processing rather than problem solving 46 2.9.2 Symbolism and drama 47 2.9.4 Phenomenology 48 2.9.5 Personal responses to place 49 2.10 Mobilities 50 2.10.1 Global networks and global cities 50 2.10.2 Relational geographies 52 2.10.3 Onward migration and spatial fixes 53 2.10.4 The cosmopolitanization of taste 54 2.10.5 Sophisticated consumers of place 55 2.11 Summary of the most significant gaps in literature 56

Chapter Three: Generating and analysing the data 58 3.1 Introduction 58 3.2 Overview of the study 58 3.3 Justification for the case study approach 60 3.4: Conceptual model 61 3.5 Justification for the choice of case study 63 3.6 The case study strategy 64 3.6.1 Interpretative-historical analysis 65 3.6.2 Semi-structured interviews 66 3.6.3 Online surveys 68 3.6.4 Critical discourse analysis 69 3.7 Alternative data collection methods 70 3.7.1 Observing environmental behaviour 71 3.7.2 Observing physical traces 73 3.7.3 Site analysis 74 3.7.4 Academic robustness 75 3.8 Ethics and informed consent 76 3.9 Recruiting, first contacts and interviews 77 3.10 Accessing an online community 78 3.11 Organisation and analysis of data 80 3.12 Conclusion 81

Chapter Four: How the scene was set for Liverpool One 83 4.1 Introduction 83 4.2 Early success: 1700/1800s to the First World War 83 4.3 Mercantilism 86 4.4 The interwar years: the start of the industrial era 87 4.5 Immediate post-war: The Shennan Plan 90 4.6 Post-war regeneration until 1970 91 4.7 The 1970s: the post-industrial era 97 4.8 The 1980s 100 4.8.1 Merseyside Development Corporation 100 4.8.2 Merseyside Task Force 101 4.8.3 The Militants 102 4.9 The 1990s: the dawn of the urban renaissance era 104 4.9.1 The close of the 1990s 108 4.9.2 New Labour 108 4.9.3 The Unitary Development Plan 109 4.10 Post-2000 to the present day 111 4.10.1 Preparing the ground for Liverpool One 112 4.11 Conclusion 117

Chapter Five: Mediating design at the local level 119 5.1 Introduction 119 5.2 Why the planning mechanisms were reconfigured 119 5.3 The Member Working Group 121 5.4 Weekly Design Review Meetings at the outline stage 122 5.5 Weekly Design Review Meetings at the detailed stage 123 5.6 Policy Backdrop 124 5.7 The culture of people having fun 125 5.8 A hierarchical public consultation process 127 5.8.1 The top tier: major consultees 127 5.8.2 The middle tier: the stakeholders 128 5.8.3 The lower tier: the general public 129 5.8.4 Special consultations 130 5.8.5 The public exhibition 131 5.8.6 Public Design Review Meetings 131 5.8.7 Lobbying councillors 132 5.8.8 The shop 133 5.10 Shadow consultations 135

5.11 Behind closed doors 136 5.12 A phantom firm 137 5.13 A can-do city 139 5.14 A Cautionary Tale: the over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre 140 5.15 Conclusion 143

Chapter Six: Mobilising resistance 146 6.1 Introduction 146 6.2 The Oldest House 147 6.3 The Quakers 150 6.3.1 The negotiations 153 6.4 Quiggins 155 6.4.1 Quiggins and the punch-through arcade 157 6.4.2 A cause célèbre of a displacement argument 160 6.5 One Park West 163 6.5.1 Dealing with dissent 165 6.6 Why so few objections? 166 6.6.1 The right to receive accurate information 166 6.6.2 A confusing process 171 6.6.3 More confusion: who was in control? 172 6.6.4 Overwhelming scale 173 6.6.5 New style consultation 175 6.6.6 Other reasons 176 6.7 Conclusion 177

Chapter Seven: Applying ideas of best practice in the real world 179 7.1 Introduction 179 7.2 A very site-specific response to the city of Liverpool 179 7.2.1 The use of scale 180 7.2.2 A settled feel: the look of age and familiarity 181 7.2.3 Stability 183 7.2.4 Replicating diversity and organic growth 185 7.2.5 The retail offer 185 7.2.6 Weather protection 187 7.2.7 Partaking in the Liverpudlian party atmosphere 189 7.3 The Best Part of the Day 191 7.3.1 Coherency through limited colour palettes 192 7.3.2 Measured quiet/traffic free 192

7.3.3 Predictability of space 193 7.3.4 A pristine environment 195 7.3.5 Seemingly light touch security 196 7.4 Trouble in paradise: the problems of an oasis 198 7.4.1 The edge 198 7.4.2 Backs 199 7.4.3 Techniques associated with segregation 200 7.4.4 The outer edge 202 7.4.5 Zones of influence and chaotic edges 203 7.4.6 The contrast in tight controls 204 7.5 The power of benign good design 204 7.5.1 Socio-spatial impacts of high-end shopping 205 7.5.2 A place that is not for everyone 207 7.5.4 Feelings of exclusion 208 7.5.5 Everything is fine 210 7.5.6 An allowance of space for social good 211 7.5.7 Too much focus on presentation 213 7.6 A strange way to do business 215 7.7 Conclusion 216

Chapter Eight: Creating ‘the right environment’ 218 8.1 Introduction 218 8.2 A backdrop of quality 218 8.3. The British urban renaissance and its continental ideals 219 8.4 The typologies of Liverpool One 223 8.4.1 It’s a Great Estate 223 8.4.2 It’s a mall 223 8.4.3 It’s a mixed-use development 224 8.4.4 It’s a regeneration scheme 224 8.4.5 It’s a large multi-occupied, managed environment 224 8.5 Tribute developments 225 8.6 Wanting a city which is ‘on par’ 231 8.7 Balancing between recognisable and new/fresh 232 8.8 Saying something meaningful about Liverpool itself 235 8.9 Tracing forward 240 8.10 The scheme’s financial geography 242 8.10.1 How LCC accumulates and spends their Liverpool One income 245 8.11 Conclusion 248

Chapter Nine: Main findings 250 9.1 Introduction 250 9.2 Revisiting the study’s primary aim and its objectives 251 9.3 Key theoretical implications of the study 251 9.3.1 Postpolitics 251 9.3.2 Semiotics 252 9.3.3 Mobilities 253 9.4 Theoretical propositions 254 9.4.1 Postpolitical propositions 254 9.4.2 Semiotics propositions 255 9.4.3 Mobilities propositions 255 9.5 The study’s key, more practical findings 256 9.5.1 Design-led schemes can be socially regressive 257 9.5.2 A culture of ‘lightness’ around design 259 9.5.3 Infringements of personal freedoms 259 9.6 Limitations of the study 260 9.7 Recommendations for future research 261 9.8 Final words: the main story recapped 262

References 263

Appendix 1: Participant Information Sheet/Consent Form: Professionals, specialists and lay experts 281 Appendix 2: Participant Information Sheet/Consent Form: Objectors/commentators and users/intended users of the scheme 286 Appendix 3: Semi-structured discussion guide: Professionals, specialists and lay experts 291 Appendix 4: Semi-structured discussion guide: Objectors/commentators and users/intended users of the scheme 294 Appendix 5: Survey Monkey Questions 297 Appendix 6: Time Line 299

List of Figures

Chapter One Figure 1.1: The Grove, Los Angeles 17 Chapter Two Figure 2.1: The 152-page Liverpool One masterplan 40 Chapter Three Figure 3.1: Liverpool One, ground floor with street names 59 Figure 3.2: The pre-development site was brownfield 64 Figure 3.3: The finished scheme 64 Figure 3.4: William H. Whyte observing human-environment interactions 72 Figure 3.5: Personalised shopfront in the Bluecoat Chambers 73 Figure 3.6: Visual aids accompanied the online survey on Flickr 80 Chapter Four Figure 4.1: John Eyres’ map of Liverpool c1765 84 Figure 4.2: College Lane warehouses pre-development, 2005 85 Figure 4.3: College Lane warehouses 85 Figure 4.4: Bluecoat Chambers 85 Figure 4.5: Medical Officer measuring the width of passageways, 1907 88 Figure 4.6: Munitions factory 88 Figure 4.7: Looking from Derby Square towards the Liverpool One site 88 Figure 4.8: Much of the Liverpool One site was bombed during the war 89 Figure 4.9: The area pre-war, 1930s 90 Figure 4.10: The Shennan Plan cover 91 Figure 4.11: The Shennan Plan 91 Figure 4.12: Industrial opportunities in Liverpool, 1954 92 Figure 4.13: City Engineers’ advert promoting Liverpool’s resources 92 Figure 4.14: The central city was very built-up 93 Figure 4.15: The Shankland Plan 95 Figure 4.16: Strand-Paradise Park, later Chavasse Park 95 Figure 4.17: The multi-storey car park/bus station, 2005 96 Figure 4.18: The Moat House Hotel, 2005 96 Figure 4.19: Fire station 97 Figure 4.20: UDCs were given land previously owned by local authorities and statutory undertakers UDCs were given land 101 Figure 4.21: The International Garden Festival, 1984 104 Figure 4.22: The proposed National Discovery Centre 106 Figure 4.23: A plan view of the National Discovery Centre 107

Figure 4.24: The PSDA or Bluecoat Triangle 109 Figure 4.25: The enlarged PSDA 110 Figure 4.26: The Walton Group’s 2000 proposal for Chavasse Park 117 Chapter Five Figure 5.1: The Lord Street shop 134 Figure 5.2: the perceived over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre 143 Chapter Six Figure 6.1: The Oldest House, 2005 148 Figure 6.2: 31 Hanover Street, 2017 148 Figure 6.3: House, interconnecting court and two warehouses 148 Figure 6.4: Stowage plans for the slave ship Brookes 148 Figure 6.5: The Paradise Street terrace, 2005 151 Figure 6.6: The former Quaker Meeting House in Paradise Street 155 Figure 6.7: The new School Lane Meeting House, 2017 155 Figure 6.8: Quiggins, Peter’s Lane, 2005 156 Figure 6.9: Palatine House, 2005 and the rear of the HMV building 159 Figure 6.10: The punch-through arcade and Palantine House 159 Figure 6.11: The attractive facade of Quiggins/Palantine House 160 Figure 6.12: Quiggins became a cause célèbre 161 Figure 6.13: A tower approaching 40 storeys was proposed 164 Figure 6.14: One Park West: eventually the rise was to extend five storeys 164 Figure 6.15: A topographic bowl surrounds the city centre 166 Chapter Seven Figure 7.1: Core retail streets to the River Mersey 180 Figure 7.2: Wall Street was created by cutting through a large block 181 Figure 7.3: Use of patina, weaving old and new 182 Figure 7.4: Use of patina, rounding corners to appear weathered 182 Figure 7.5: Victorian polychrome brickwork inspired frontage 183 Figure 7.6: The Kenyon Steps were to look like they’d always been there 184 Figure 7.7: the safeguarding of the sailors’ home gates 185 Figure 7.8: Paradise Street’s American Eagle 185 Figure 7.9: The scheme’s scale ‘ecosystem’ 186 Figure 7.10: Weather protection plan - canopies, colonnades and arcades 188 Figure 7.11: South John Street’s glazed canopy 188 Figure 7.12: The scheme on a hot day 189 Figure 7.13: Cross section showing the scheme’s undercroft 193 Figure 7.14: The police headquarters/law courts were to be screened 199 Figure 7.15: New routes created to direct attention to desirable vistas 201

Figure 7.16: Directing the eye to the best sights 201 Figure 7.17: The Costa gateway feature 202 Figure 7.18: The Bling Bling Building gateway feature 202 Figure 7.19: The Terrace was perceived to be a socially awkward space 208 Figure 7.20: The Peter’s Lane ‘aspirational quarter’ 215 Chapter Six Figure 8.1: ‘The zig-zag steps’ kinked urban stairway 222 Figure 8.2: Forum Aveiro, Portugal, was Liverpool One’s greatest influence 228 Figure 8.3: South John Street, Liverpool One 228 Figure 8.4: Beurstraverse, Rotterdam 229 Figure 8.5: Marikenstraat, Nijmegen 229 Figure 8.6: The colourfully-lit bridge between John Lewis and its car park 234 Figure 8.7: The FAT kiosk, replaced after four years 234 Figure 8.8: The FAT kiosk replacement 235 Figure 8.9: The origami style ‘folded card’ pavilion in Chavasse Park 237 Figure: 8.10: Harvey Nichols facade 238 Figure 8.11: The Mann Island buildings stand close to the scheme 239 Figure 8.12: The Forever 21 building continuing the contemporary vibe 239

List of Tables Table 3.1: Conceptual model 62 Table 4.1: History of innovative planning and regeneration initiatives in Liverpool most relevant to the Liverpool One site 113 Table 6.1: Liverpool Echo articles ` 169 Table 8.1: Tribute developments 230 Table 8.2: Tracing forward 240 Table 8.3: Parallel schemes 242

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Abstract Can a design-led approach to redevelopment deliver city centre regeneration? A Liverpool case study of the design dimension of planning and development processes

Faced with the problem of city centre decline, on coming to power in 1997 New Labour concluded that if people were to have more positive experiences of urban living, regeneration had to be ‘design led’. In this way, they envisaged an urban renaissance. At the same time, retail was also imagining its own urban renaissance based on the growing popularity of the city centre outdoor mall. Liverpool One captures this mood, both as an outdoor mall and through its explicit aim of developing a scheme in which design excellence would be applied throughout. Following its completion in 2008, Liverpool One now represents the first opportunity to research, in detail, this type of scheme in the UK and the impacts of its design-led approach on city centre decline. To conceptualise the study it draws on the three theories of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities. While semiotics is an established urban design perspective, it is believed that nobody has yet used the emerging literature on postpolitics and mobilities to form a better understanding of contemporary British urbanism in terms of urban design. A key point to make is that the outdoor mall allows the private sector to take over large tracts of the city. Yet from the existing literature it transpired that there were few in-depth case studies examining how planning mechanisms can be utilised to stabilize opportunities for city centre space to be ‘excellently designed’ by the private sector in this way, and very little on UK city centre space being redeveloped into the built form of an outdoor mall.

The mixed qualitative methods study aimed to capture and examine a wide range of perspectives and experiences of design-led regeneration, through 28 interviews, and also through survey research which was entirely conducted over the internet through a novel methodology which sought to engage members of the SkyscraperCity website. The gathered evidence was to ultimately demonstrate how exceptional design can have transforming powers, but also disguising and concealing powers across three key areas. Firstly, design-led schemes can be socially regressive. The promise of high quality design can be utilised to mask less democratic planning processes and can make a scheme acceptable where otherwise there might be opposition. Secondly, a culture of ‘lightness’ can exist around design processes that should be more embroiled in problem solving. Thirdly, while perceived as doing no harm, in finished schemes, high quality design can be used as an aesthetic device to make infringements on personal freedoms acceptable where otherwise there may be protest. Overall the study’s findings emphasise that ‘good design’ is not necessarily benevolent and there needs to be a rethinking about design-led regeneration. The challenge is how to utilise design as a more socially progressive force.

Victoria Lawson, Manchester University, PhD, 22nd September 2017

Declaration of Authenticity

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Dedication

My thanks to the world’s most patient husband, Gordon Heslop, and to my supervisors Prof Graham Haughton and Dr Deljana Iossifova. Thanks also to the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries for all their help and photographs.

About the Author

The author is a Chartered Town Planner who holds a BA (Hons) in Town and Country Planning and a Bachelor of Planning, both from the University of Manchester, and a MA in Urban Design from Birmingham City University. The author has also recently become an Associate Fellow of the Higher Education Academy, and is a Planning Aid volunteer.

Chapter One Introduction

1.1 Introduction Faced with the problem of urban decline in English cities, on coming to power in 1997 New Labour commissioned an Urban Task Force to report on how an urban renaissance might be achieved. Its brief was to recommend practical solutions to bring people back into English cities, towns and urban neighbourhoods. There was to be a positive urban agenda to counter decades of population loss, under investment and physical decay. Instead, urban living was to be seen to be desirable. To better understand what made urban living desirable, the Task Force went on an evidence-gathering trip across England and the Continent, and decided that England was “probably 20 years behind places like Amsterdam and Barcelona” (UTF, 1999, p.7). The Task Force felt that a poor quality of environment had contributed to the English urban exodus and to redress the balance, England must “re-establish the quality of urban design and architecture as part of our everyday culture, as it is in the Netherlands, Spain and the towns and cities of our European neighbours” (UTF, 1999, p.39). From their trip, the Task Force concluded that if people were to have more positive experiences of urban living, regeneration had to be “design led” (UTF, 1999, p.7). As such, their resultant report, Towards an Urban Renaissance (1999), advocated a new vision for urban regeneration based on coordinated action and the joint principles of design excellence, economic strength, environmental responsibility, good governance and social well-being – of which design excellence is of interest to the study. In response to the report, the government published an Urban White Paper in 2000, setting out New Labour’s proposals for the future policy initiatives necessary to champion their urban renaissance. While the white paper was not an urban design document, it demonstrated that design was central in the establishment of New Labour’s evolving attitude to UK urban environments.

Even though the Task Force was careful to set design-led regeneration within an economic, social and sustainability context, there was scepticism that this type of approach could fully address the range of regeneration issues faced by UK cities (Punter, 2010a, p.353). Design-led approaches tend to be regarded as physicalist in origin: the belief that the physical design of cities is a practical art, concerned with producing engaging urban ensembles. In this way, the idea of design-led regeneration appears to draw on the legacy of the City Beautiful Movement, with its belief that improving cities via beautification can increase quality of life. However

13 given the real, daily, economic and social problems of large sections of urban societies, the abilities of a design-led approach to regenerating cities was met with disbelief in some quarters (Punter, 2010c, p.5).

As physical reconstruction and economic recovery go hand in hand, Punter (2010b, xiv) identified the urban renaissance as a product of the exceptionally long 1993- 2006 economic boom and its subsequent surge in new development. When in a boom phase of the development cycle, there is greater financial speculation in the built environment. The Boom led the UK to witness the largest wave of new development, and hence urban change, since the post-war construction era of the 1950s and 1960s (Minton, 2006, p.12). In this context, the strength of the physicalist approach was reversing physical decay by replacing it with a qualitatively much-improved urban environment – which is fundamentally important in the current age of intercity competition. Globalisation processes (more of which later) have reduced the role of ‘the national’ and enabled the ascendance of ‘the city’ as a spatial unit (Cuthbert, 2001; Harvey, 1989; Madanipour, 2007; Sassen, 2005). This has placed cities in a competitive environment against each other. In a global economy cities act as rivals, each trying to attract investors, visitors, shoppers and potential new residents. For local governments, this has engendered new-felt urban needs to create a positive and high quality image of a place, through architectural styles and forms of urban design that respond to such need (Harvey, 1989, p.92). This is especially important to former industrial cities, where their look and feel might be perceived as belonging to a previous factory age. They needed to make a choice between moving with the times or potentially facing obsolescence (Madanipour, 2006, p.191). To remain competitive, these cities could not afford to stay physically locked into their past. In this way, a design-led approach to regeneration offers more than beautification. Pursuing design excellence, as advocated by Towards an Urban Renaissance, can aid the re-imaging and functional transformation of a city. As such, it can be argued that beautification can improve economic conditions and, stemming from this, social conditions via ‘trickle down’. In this way, promoting ‘design’ can be a motor for economic and social regeneration.

However, undergoing a metamorphosis from industrial to post-industrial requires actual new development, and it is large ‘urban-scale’ development projects, in particular, that are perceived to be the winning formula for providing a solid foundation for fostering a city’s future growth and transformation (Swyngedouw, 2007). For the declining industrial city the legacy of brownfield sites, large tracts of

14 land belonging to former heavy industry, was to help make urban-scale developments possible in central areas – and also, in cities like Liverpool, through the aftermath of Second World War bombing. However, despite the availability of under-used land for redevelopment, there remained the question of how the qualitatively much-improved urban landscape envisioned by the Task Force was to be paid for. Indeed the Task Force forewarned that an urban renaissance was not going to come cheaply. It also warned that, without private sector investment, brownfield sites would not be redeveloped (UTF, 1999, p.263). In this light, the next section examines the changing attitudes to funding urban-scale development.

1.2 Funding urban-scale development During the post-war wave of reconstruction of the 1950s and 1960s, planning and design at the urban-scale were almost entirely within the remit of local governments (Madanipour, 2006, p.177). However from the 1980s, with radical reforms introduced by Margaret Thatcher’s conservative government, local governments became unable or unwilling to take the lead. The rise of this particular UK strand of neoliberalism and their subsequent declining fiscal resources led local governments to be increasingly dependent on private – rather than public – funds to provide city improvements. The result was public-private partnerships, whereby urban-scale projects were undertaken by the private sector facilitated by the public sector through entrepreneurial local governance (Biddulph, 2011, p.75). For design-led regeneration, local governments intent on the reimaging and functional transformation of their cities were left reliant on their long-standing role as urban regulators, and negotiating processes, to seek to achieve any desired urban design outcomes of their own. It is within this wider context of the ongoing neoliberalization of UK cities that Towards an Urban Renaissance proposed that public funds needed to “work harder” (UTF, 1999, p.297) in paving the way for attracting much larger sums of private investment. The public purse was to be utilised for land assembly, infrastructure provision and site clearance. Moreover, local governments were to directly partner with the private sector in joint development ventures by sharing investment costs, risks and rewards. Fully endorsing partnership working in this way, it was clear that New Labour’s urban renaissance agenda had a commitment to entrepreneurial local governance and its wider UK neoliberal context. As a repopulating strategy, the urban renaissance was to be a market-led return to urban living. However it was to be through the ‘Third Way’ advocated by New Labour whereby – broadly speaking – a free-market, growth-agenda approach was to be tempered by greater social justice brought about through state intervention.

However, partnership thinking was not new. Despite the Task Force’s penchant for a continental urban vision, partnership working in the USA – which shared the same underlying ideology as partnership working in the UK – had been producing new built environments for some time. Of relevance to the research is that this included new retail environments. Historically, in terms of consumerism and retail initiatives, Western Europe – recovering from the Second World War – was perceived to lag a decade or so behind the USA (Knox, 2011, p.8). As such, the 1970s in the USA saw both the innovative commercial gentrification of decaying business and waterfront districts, pioneered by Boston’s Quincy Market (1979), and the mall-ing of city centres utilising glazed gallerias and atria. Both these built forms required partnership working. They could not have happened without the legislative and financial support of a city’s local government. Grant aid was even available to fund mall schemes in central urban areas (Goss, 1993, pp.23-24). The reasoning was that public funding, when used to help finance a retail development, would enable a city council to build up their tax base and increase their levels of employment.

Running concurrent with these initiatives was the belief that simply pedestrianising existing city centre retail streets was a recipe for failure. With traffic excluded, the walking distance from the car parking to the shops would be too far, while the streets themselves included existing features like children’s playgrounds, which were not regarded as conducive to shopping. Furthermore, pedestrianising existing retail streets was not a clean sweep approach. The streets still contained the same jaded retailers as before, who were perceived to be failing to move with the times in terms of merchandise, upkeep and modernisation (Eisner et al., 1993, pp.359- 360). These traits were believed to disrupt the smooth process of consumption. Therefore a successful retail environment needed to be realized through strict control. It needed to be a strategic space, owned and controlled by a single entity, as evidenced by the success of the USA’s large enclosed suburban malls (Goss, 1993, pp.23-24).

1.3 The rise of the outdoor mall However in 2007, for the first time since mall building began in the 1950’s, no new enclosed suburban malls were built in the USA. The recession, online shopping and the increasing numbers of Americans living in central urban areas have meant that some, but not all, suburban malls are declining (Urberti, 2014). Additionally, for some people, the enclosed mall had come to represent an increasingly antiquated concept. Tastes had moved on. In this light, also contributing to the decline of the

16 enclosed mall was the emergence of new forms of urban shopping centres (Glancey, 2014). Pioneering this new form was The Grove in central Los Angeles (Fig 1.1). Constructed between 1999 and 2002, this contemporary retail built environment superficially appears to be a perfect piece of a traditional city centre, rather than its actual form, which is a 25-acre outdoor mall (The Economist, 2007). At the heart of the scheme’s success, according to its developer, is that people are naturally gregarious and that the USA had failed to provide them with places that met their social needs (The Economist, 2007). This type of space is provided by The Grove. Its outdoor mall form achieves what an American planner quoted in The Guardian describes as, ‘that lifestyle, pedestrian-orientated, indoor-outdoor sweet spot’ (Urberti, 2014). However shopping centres have long worked towards becoming people’s sweet spot – their ‘third place’ – a space beyond home and work/school in which to congregate and recreate (Goss, 1993, p.25). In this way, returning to the UK urban renaissance, with its emphasis on the positives of urban living, retail schemes were clearly positioned to play a role in creating enjoyable urban spaces. In fact, the outdoor mall was a built form which captured both new consumer and leisure habits, and the mood of New Labour’s urban renaissance. In this way, there were actually two contemporary movements which favoured the city centre: an urban renaissance as imagined by New Labour and an urban renaissance as imagined by retail.

Figure 1.1: The Grove, Los Angeles (Photographer: B. Champlin, http://www.welikela.com/street-style-cinema-2015/)

Of interest to the research is that The Boom not only led to a surge in new development, but also affected the production of the built environment in terms of the increasing importance of urban fashion-ability. Fuelled by The Boom, more easily available credit encouraged spending by enabling people to shop without actually accumulating, beforehand, the financial means to do so. With more people shopping more of the time, people became increasingly consumer orientated, with a heightened sensitivity towards design (Knox, 2011, pp.130-131). People became more sophisticated consumers and this included being more sophisticated consumers of place (Cuthbert, 2001, p.299). People became more aestheticized. As such, the discourse of design excellence in urban regeneration was perfectly suited to this shift in sensibilities towards stylish materialism. Set against the wider background detailed in this chapter so far, the design dimension of the UK urban renaissance was – in fact – part of a broader sweep of economic, social and cultural change: “The notion of an ‘urban renaissance’ has become a shorthand way of communicating not just a change in urban policy terms to try to repopulate urban areas but a multi-faceted series of trends in societal lifestyle involving new consuming habits, working-time arrangements, architectural styles and forms of urban governance that have been rolled together to constitute an urban renaissance” (Jones and Ward, 2004, pp.143-144). Retail schemes, with their onus on keeping new and fresh, were perfectly positioned to embrace the urban renaissance agenda, with its focus on what is good about urban areas.

1.4 Introducing the case study It is within this broad context that Liverpool One, the case study under examination, is situated. Liverpool One was “the most complex retail-centred, mixed-use regeneration to be undertaken in the United Kingdom in modern times” (Daramola-Martin, 2009, p.303). Masterplanned predominately during the year 2000, the stage was set for a scheme of this type. As a public-private partnership, public sector involvement was justified based on the competitive city ethos, as well as building up the local tax base and increasing employment. It was The Boom and thus there would be peak investor interest in the outdoor mall form. If that was, such a large development – 42.5 acres – could progress quickly within the boom phase of the economic cycle. Moreover, Liverpool One demonstrated a focus on design that was wider than the direct design of the built environment. A whole ‘design meta-narrative’ framed Liverpool One, shaping both the decision-making and consultation processes. ‘Planning’ was downplayed in favour of ‘design’ with a

18 planning application structured around a masterplan, with a stated clear aim of achieving design excellence and a consultation procedure based around Design Review Meetings. In this way, Liverpool One embodied the New Labour urban renaissance ethos in terms of pursuing design excellence and, additionally, that design was not just an end product but a process, but a core problem solving activity (UTF, 1999, p.39).

1.5 The rationale The core question underpinning the entire study is: can a design-led approach to redevelopment deliver regeneration in city centres previously in decline? To examine this question, the research utilises a case study: Liverpool One. Through a case study approach the study seeks to capture and examine a wide range of perspectives and experiences of design-led regeneration. The research is not about design practice, but the role of design in the planning and development process, with the primary aim of better understanding what different facets of design can or can’t offer regeneration practices – with the broad objectives of:

Identifying how key design moves and decisions are mediated at the local level in planning and development processes, examining the different sets of actors involved,

Critically examining what happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, as exemplified by Liverpool One,

Evaluating how ideas of appropriate design are assembled in a place, including how cities are implicated in each other’s regeneration efforts,

Drawing out key theoretical and practical ideas to develop new approaches to the role of design in planning and development processes, for the benefit of future city centre regeneration efforts.

In order to achieve these aims, a theoretical framework was developed to focus the study (chapter two). The theoretical framework was pragmatically drawn from themes which have been touched upon already. In brief, how the world-wide variants of design ideas might come to be assembled in a place (mobilities), the ways in which entrepreneurial local governance permits the public to become involved with design (postpolitics) and perceptions of what constitutes design excellence in the built environment (semiotics). In addition, throughout the study, there is an emphasis on UK urban design’s close association with the markets.

At this point it should be noted that, while the need to achieve ‘design-led’ development was as a defining argument of Towards an Urban Renaissance, it is a challenging term to define. Regeneration is not literally design led, but – broadly speaking – retail, housing, commerce or leisure led. In this way, it is understood from the outset that to call regeneration ‘design led’ is a misnomer. Certainly, however, design was central to the establishment of the New Labour urban renaissance, giving a huge boost to the urban design dimension of planning and development (Punter, 2010c, p.3). Therefore throughout the study, for clarity of argument, the term ‘design led’ is employed to represent the importance, in city centre regeneration, of achieving a well-designed and qualitatively much-improved urban environment.

1.7 Justification There are two books written about Liverpool One. There is Grosvenor’s book by David Littlefield, Liverpool One: remaking a city centre (2009), which is the developer’s story. Then there is BDP’s book by David Taylor, along with Terry Davenport: Liverpool: regeneration of a city centre (2009) which is the story of the masterplan and the design evolution of the project. Both these books have chapters on the scheme’s planning strategy. In addition, a number of academics have already written about Liverpool One. Peer-reviewed journal articles have been produced by Mike Biddulph (2011), Roy Coleman et al. (2005) and Nicholas Jewell (2016). The PhD thesis of Erwin Heurkens (2012), produced in a book format, is also readily available online. In addition, the academic John Punter (2010b) has edited a book about urban design and the urban renaissance involving a study of the UK’s thirteen largest cities, which includes a chapter section, by Biddulph, on Liverpool One. There is also a 2009 book featuring Liverpool One by the journalist Anna Minton: Ground Control: Fear and happiness in the twenty-first- century city.

Of this previous body of work, Biddulph focused on the extent to which deprived areas of the UK have embraced urban design as a necessary feature of urban regeneration. Coleman on growing corporatisation, surveillance and ‘statecraft’. Jewell on the influence on UK cities of Asian models of consumption-led urbanism achieved through high-density mall designs, though adapted to the lower density UK context. Heurkens on collaboration within public-private partnerships in urban development projects. Minton on growing corporatisation and the privatisation of public space, and Punter focused on the progress made by Towards an Urban

Renaissance, with a particular urban policy emphasis. These are largely topics also investigated, to varying extents, by this research.

However, a key difference between this study and others is that of timing. This study represents the first opportunity to research a scheme like Liverpool One – in detail – some years on from its completion in 2008, giving the research participants an opportunity to really think about the impacts of the scheme. The research was predominately carried out during 2015 – some seven years after Liverpool One’s completion. This time lapse has given the scheme time to mature and people time to reflect on what aspects of the scheme are really worth talking about. In this way, the findings might be different from previous studies because participants have had additional reflection time. In addition, by carrying out research in 2015, the study is able to examine not just the scheme’s gestation, but its early years of use. While the recession/downturn in the development of recent years has meant that the momentum offered by Liverpool One has been lost, the passage of time means that lessons, both positive and negative, are now available to be evaluated and learnt. In addition, another key difference between this study and other academic studies is that Liverpool One represented just one of a number of case studies under investigation. For this research, Liverpool One is the sole case study, enabling design-led regeneration to be explored in greater depth than previously. In fact Biddulph (2011, p.100) identified a limitation of his research was that he had not focused down on the minutiae of the processes behind the production of Liverpool One, which this study does.

Moreover, the study seeks to break new ground by assessing the implications of large-scale outdoor mall-ing as a driver for city centre regeneration, of which Liverpool One is acknowledged as the first of its kind in the UK. There is a lack of critical investigation into this new phenomenon. This is despite the fact outdoor mall-ing creates not just megastructures, but megaforms as it allows private interests to take over both the buildings and the spaces inbetween and subsequently large chunks of a city – and an outdoor mall has to be large, to achieve the required regional retail pull. More than this, Jewell (2016, p.4) contends that malling involves putting ‘tethering’ mechanisms in place within the built environment, channelling people into consumption-driven spaces as they go about their daily business of working, living and commuting. In terms of retail spaces, while Jewell acknowledges the historical influence of American precedents in UK mall development, he argues that, through city centre mall-ing, the morphology of UK cities is changing to adopt a specifically Asian bent. Jewell

21 highlights that it is possible to traverse much of Hong Kong Island without actually leaving an [indoor] mall. In terms of city centre regeneration, the study seeks to examine how the outdoor mall form can be a space for profit and – as part of the New Labour era – achieve social inclusion as part of the ‘Third Way’ compromise between hard economics and social justice. For a scheme like Liverpool One, which is a public-private venture intended to span at least 250 years, issues of social justice extend far beyond the New Labour era.

In terms of the originality of the research, the study also seeks to break new ground by utilising postpolitics and mobilities literature. It is believed that nobody has yet used this emerging literature to form a better understanding of contemporary British urbanism in terms of urban design (chapter two). Additionally, in terms of originality and research methods, the study made use of the internet as an innovative approach to survey research, specifically through the SkyscraperCity website. This website includes a Liverpool One forum and an active discussion board with, at the time of writing, over 13,000 posts stretching back to 2006.

1.8 The structure of the thesis The thesis is structured into nine chapters, the next being a literature review which seeks to structure the study. There then follows a chapter detailing the research methodology. It explains how, guided by the study’s theoretical framework, the data for the study was generated and analysed. Chapter four traces what has happened in Liverpool, until this point in time, both in terms of the emergence of the actual case study site and changing attitudes towards regeneration/design. A key role of chapter four is providing ‘intertextuality’, that is, providing a social and historical context to contemporary events. Next are the four key empirical chapters: the core of the research. They are largely based around the study’s three key theories: postpolitics (chapters five and six), semiotics (chapter seven) and mobilites (chapter eight). Chapters five and six investigate how the scheme’s key design moves and decisions were mediated at the local level, and the different sets of actors involved. There is a focus on the scheme’s planning mechanisms in chapter five and those who mobilised resistance to the scheme in chapter six. Chapter seven examines what happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, as exemplified by Liverpool One. Chapter eight explores how ideas of appropriate design were assembled in a place, and also how cities implicated in each other’s regeneration efforts. To end, a shorter concluding chapter presents the main findings as a discussion of the theoretical implications of

22 the study with respect to urban design, and thematically: drawing together synergies from across the empirical chapters to set out the study’s key, more practical, findings.

Chapter Two Reviewing the literature and framing the study

2.1 Statement of purpose The purpose of this literature review is to create a structure for considering the phenomenon under investigation: the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space. It explains the theories which form the overall framework for the study and introduces useful concepts and themes to help make the later empirical chapters understandable and accessible to the reader. Throughout, numerous questions are raised from the current literature which will be elaborated upon in the empirical chapters. Split into six parts, the review is organised as follows. Firstly it highlights how the relationship between the growth of cities and capitalism is critical to an understanding of the reproduction of city centre space through a scheme like Liverpool One. Then emphasis is laid on the importance of the relationship between urbanised capitalism and the recent growing aesthetic consciousness towards the built environment. Next there is a discussion about the design dimension of planning, highlighting the contested nature of evaluating design quality in the built environment. Following this, the study’s three practice- related theories of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities are set out under the over- arching philosophical perspective of critical realism. To end, the most significant shortcomings of the current literature/knowledge are summarised, which the empirical chapters will seek to extend.

2.2 The development of capitalism and the growth of cities From the outset, when examining issues relating to the production/reproduction of the built environment, it needs to be appreciated that there exists an intimate connection between the development of capitalism and the growth of cities. Harvey (2008, pp.24-30) explains that capitalism must produce surpluses, or surplus value, in order to survive. This surplus value must be then be reinvested in order to generate more surplus value. The result is a process of continuous reinvestment. As such, capitalism is always in a perpetual need to find new profitable terrains in which to reinvest its surpluses and cities have become one such profitable terrain. Through new developments, surpluses are channelled into their built fabric in the hope of a lucrative return. For example, a city centre mall, whether an open or enclosed building type, is an object of value which both sells commodities and is a commodity itself, produced to make a profit for its investors. The development itself is an asset. When the built environment is a product for the achievement of capital accumulation, investing in an urban development is treated much the same

24 as any other kind of investment – stocks or shares, for instance. In this way, the built environment is viewed as a form of urbanised capitalism. As such, cities have come to play an active role in absorbing the surpluses of the capitalist economy and, in turn, through generating profit, the production of more surpluses.

Capitalism also relates to the production/reproduction of cities because long periods of economic growth increase public funds and throughout history some of capitalism’s surpluses have been taxed (Harvey, 2008, p.37). In this way, The Boom increased available public funds and these funds, too, were channelled into the built environment (Madanipour, 2006, p.183). However, as already highlighted, the political context for the spending of public funds has changed since the last large wave of construction in the post-war era. Now urban-scale projects are undertaken by the private sector facilitated by public-private partnerships, with capitalism happy to expand its scope and move into these types of areas which local governments have withdrawn from. This is because capitalism advances not just by developing new goods and production methods, but by energetically pulling more and more areas of life within its reach (Crouch, 2004, p.80). ExUrbe (2013, p.10) call private business practices entering the former public realm in this way “predatory capitalism”.

However an issue with this integration of state and corporate interests is that systems like entrepreneurial governance, with its neoliberal foundations, ensure that the disbursement of capitalism’s surpluses – gleaned through taxes – favours corporate capital and the upper classes in shaping the urban process (Harvey, 2008, pp.37-38). An example of this has already been highlighted, whereby in the USA, in the 1970s, grant aid was used to fund malls in central urban areas. In this way, the public purse ultimately aided corporate capital. For this reason, that public-private partnerships ultimately favour rich ‘elites’, partnership working has a number of critics (Coleman et al., 2005; Forsyth, 2007; Minton, 2006). However, for the public sector, through using its funds to pave the way for attracting private investment, rather than taking a lead role itself, partnership working has led to a reliance on private sector initiative and investment.

2.3 Urbanised capitalism and aesthetics When examining issues relating to the reproduction of city centre space, it also needs to be appreciated that there exists an intimate connection between the development of urbanised capitalism and the growing aesthetic consciousness towards the built environment. Already highlighted were the influence of Towards

25 an Urban Renaissance and a growing sophistication amongst people as consumers of place. However, their effects alone do not fully explain the growing centrality of design in urban development processes. This lies within a broader sweep of, essentially, economic influences which will now be highlighted in this section.

When the built environment is seen as a form of investment into which developments are ‘deposited’, a more aesthetically satisfying built environment is perceived to have more prospects – economically – in terms of attracting users, desirable tenants and shoppers (Cuthbert, 2001, p.298). An aesthetic appeal is extremely important, adding an “alchemical touch” to a scheme (Poynor, 2007, p.136). As such, amongst the financiers behind these developments, this led to an appreciation of the role of high quality design in protecting the value of their asset. This was especially if they might need to onward sell their asset/development at a later date. As urban design was primarily for enhancing profit, rather than adherence to any social or environmental purposes, consequently there were critics of the built environment’s growing aesthetic consciousness (Cuthbert, 2001; Forsyth, 2007; Knox, 2011). Urban design was described as merely the handmaiden of capitalism (Gunder, 2011, p.191), and urban designers were the hired hands of the development industry (Madanipour, 2006, p.189). Yet despite its role in enhancing profit, the intensification of design activity in development processes found widespread popularity (Madanipour, 2004, i). This was not least because the design of urban-scale schemes, through the creation of a new qualitatively much improved public realm, created agreeable open spaces for social interaction.

In these ways there were number of critics who felt that high quality design was being manipulated by the market (Biddulph, 1995; Gaffikin and Sterrett, 2006; Loukaitou-Sideris and Banerjee, 1998; Saunders, 2005; Schurch, 1999). Moreover, the promise of high quality design was perceived to make developments acceptable where otherwise there may have been objections (Madanipour, 2006, pp.182-3; see also Lynch, 1984, p.112). It’s a technique the planning theorist, Kevin Lynch, referred to as adding a visible gloss to a planning proposal to help glide it to approval. In fact, pacifying potential objectors in this way was actually a government-endorsed approach. The now superseded Planning Policy Guidance Note 1, which provided guidance on planning policy, explained that a benefit of pursuing good design was to “help to secure continued public acceptance of necessary new development” (DTLR, 2001, para. 15). Furthermore, as image – rather than social or environmental values – took on an inflated role, this led to the

26 fetishising of design (Biddulph, 1995; Carmona et al., 2010; Gunder, 2011). Biddulph (1995, p.746) highlights that when image becomes of paramount concern, this can result in a distortion of priorities. As such, practices behind the production of new schemes, and any spatial-political consequences they might have, can go unconsidered and unchallenged – a subject returned to primarily in chapter seven.

2.4 Pursuing design quality in the built environment A key point to make, in investigating design-led regeneration, is that the focus of the study is not examining design practice – the three-part process of analysis, design and production which results in changes to the built environment – but the role of design in the planning and development process. As such, there follows a discussion about the design dimension of planning, highlighting the contested nature of evaluating design quality in the built environment. A ‘design led’ approach to regeneration is also defined, before examining the public’s influence on design.

New Labour – on coming to power – inherited what was already an increasingly positive attitude to pursuing design quality in the built environment. Over the preceding half-century, since the 1947 planning act, Punter (1999; 2010a) highlights how, in English planning, concerns over design quality had gradually widened in their remit from enhancing the external appearance of buildings to considering the components of a place and their functionality and liveability – how their design improved people’s living conditions. Initially, post-war, concerns over design quality were focused on aesthetics, especially building elevations. A planning authority’s development control powers were the key mechanism for design control. However, such controls clashed with the idea of design freedom as an integral component of development rights (Punter, 1999, p.138): that the developer/householder had a right to express their own design aspirations and tastes. Moreover, there was also the argument that individuals should be free to use their own creativity to problem solve in the built environment (Cullen, 1960; Landry, 2006). Through the resultant, imaginative design outcomes/solutions cities would be allowed simply to happen, rather than everything being watched by planners (Banham et al., 1969, p.13). While cities that have simply ‘happened’ may appear outwardly disorderly, the argument was that, underneath such places would lie a certain organic integrity and rationality (Amin and Thrift, 2002, p.8).

While Landry (2006, p.395) acknowledges that, if thousands of people were ‘creative’ perhaps visually it would be too much, an issue about such freedom of

27 expression is that individual design decisions may be individually rational, but not collectively rational. A key problem is that design outcomes, in terms of personal taste and design experimentations, don’t visually stop at property boundaries. Instead they spill over them, impacting upon onlookers and passers-by (Sternberg, 2000, p.35). While a subjective debate, someone can suffer negative ‘spillovers’ or positive ‘spillovers’ depending on a building’s design. In this light, although development control interferes with individual liberties, it is arguably for the good of the public. By guiding individual design proposals, planning’s development control mechanisms consider others in a way the actions of individual contributors to the built environment may not. This is beneficial in built environments split up by design decisions made for single, separate purposes, to seek to keep in check inward-focused and self-interested designs. With this, development control brings some cohesiveness to the urban experience. For design quality, this is important as people experience the whole of the built environment: the totality of public and private space.

An issue, however, is that making places collectively more acceptable ‘levels’ them, ironing-out any high points or surprises in the built environment, thereby: “Offering little that can be judged either elevating or depressing, and little that is challenging; it is pleasant enough and comfortable. But it is not a landscape that possesses any real identity of its own” (Relph, 1976, pp.127- 128). Moreover, as well as potentially ironing-out ‘highs’, design controls also aim to bring-up the ‘lows’. However seeking to bring-up the lows became unpopular with the development industry, due to the additional costs involved in higher quality design. This was especially the case when the conservative government came into power in 1979 and there was a much stronger presumption in favour of development. More than ever, design controls were seen as an intrusion on developer freedom, bringing about a strong central government antipathy towards them. Similarly, there was also an ongoing argument from some architectural circles that such controls impinged on their architectural freedom (Punter, 1999, p.153). However, even in the 1980s – “dark days for design control” (Punter, 2010a, p.349) – the government began to see how higher quality design could make development more acceptable to local communities, especially in the south east. At the same time the development industry came to see it was in their interests to raise design standards. They came to appreciate that quality design protected the value of long-term assets in terms of attracting and maintaining occupiers, while the value of high quality design was also being asserted at the

28 local authority level in the regeneration of city centres like Glasgow and Birmingham (Punter, 2010a, pp.349-350). In these ways, concerns over design quality were changing.

At the same time, however, avoiding the additional costs associated with higher quality design had led to “a mass of lowest common denominator designs” (Punter, 2010a, p.363). Through schemes like ‘clone town’ housing estates and big box commercial developments, soullessness became an issue with 1980’s developments (Aravot, 2002; Carmona et al., 2002) – adding to existing concerns about the soullessness of the comprehensive area renewal developments of the 1960s and 1970s. As a reaction against this stark post-war modernism, the townscape/conservation movement had been on the rise since the 1960s, but in the 1980s they saw debates about design quality come to embrace ideas of achieving ‘place quality’ through self-consciously seeking to create an identity for a place: ‘a sense of place’.

By the mid-1990s concerns about design quality deepened further with an increasing awareness of globalisation and the need to protect local distinctiveness. There was also a growing interest in environmental issues and sustainable development, along with a greater concern with regeneration, particularly the role of city centre regeneration/image enhancement in driving forward economic development (Punter, 2007, p.169). As such, the 1990s saw a markedly more positive tone from the conservative central government and rather than restricting local government in their pursuit of design quality, they started to encourage them (Punter, 2010a, p.355). This was particularly evident through the design advice of the 1992 Planning Policy Guidance Note 1, which was strengthened and extended in its 1997 revision. Design became recognised as an important factor in the acceptability of a development proposal, both as a material consideration in planning decisions and through increasing policy sophistication in development plans. To achieve improved place making, every local authority was to formulate their own hierarchy of locally-appropriate, development plan ‘motherhood’ design policies and local guidance which would sit with an integrated package of design frameworks, briefs and urban design statements – alongside established development control mechanisms. In this way, local authorities were to provide clear indications of their design expectations for their areas (Punter, 2010a, p.351). Rather than ‘design’ – as in discussing elevations – the term ‘urban design’ became more commonly used and design quality was embraced in its fullest sense. This included liveability: addressing principles such as achieving ease of movement and

29 legibility, walkable layouts, adaptability and diversity/mix – topics which, broadly speaking, made design debates less about taste and therefore less subjective.

Enhancing liveability also included the quality of the public realm, thus acknowledging its social dimension. This was a turnaround from the 1980s pro- market planning rollback where the public realm seemed either abandoned by all agencies or under threat from the encroachment of private interests (Madanipour, 2004, ii). Instead the outdoor ‘rooms’ of urban streets and squares became more valued than freestanding buildings (Kelbaugh, 2002; Punter, 1999). As such, design quality came to include discussions of urban form possibilities. More than this, by the 1997 revision of the Planning Policy Guidance Note 1, the government enshrined a broad definition of urban design at the heart of planning practice, stating – in short – that urban design covered all the complex relationships between all the elements of built and unbuilt space (Punter, 1999, p.139).

In these ways, the conservatives had begun to develop some elements of an urban renaissance policy in the 1990s (Punter, 2011, p.2), which New Labour took forward – not least through an increased flow of design research and advice. Not only did they commission the UTF, but they also created a national urban design framework which set out the principles, processes and practices through which national design standards could be raised. This included a long line of publications to guide the design of urban form and development control decisions, including the best practice guide the Urban Design Compendium (2000). These were complemented by government policy and guidance documents on issues like designing against crime. In 1999 New Labour also established CABE (Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment) who were charged with raising the profile of urban design and the design quality of new developments. In a more collective pursuit of design quality, CABE delivered further research and best practice advice to all actors in the development process. As such, as New Labour’s time in government progressed, if a local authority had the political will to raise design standards they now had unequivocal government support and comprehensive advice on which to found their efforts (Punter, 2011, p.8).

2.4.1 Defining ‘design led’ in the production of space As the planning system changed to show more sensitivity to urban design, the two became closer to such an extent that it was claimed that good design was indivisible from good planning (ODPM, 2005, para. 33). Better designed places stemmed from good processes – good policies, good frameworks, good briefs, good

30 guidance and good controls – which had drawn on good sources: good surveys, good appraisals and good research studies. Influenced by this, as such, for this study a ‘design led’ approach is defined as a course of action which seeks to successfully manage urban change.

To help clarify ‘design led’ as a course of action, it can be helpful to think of design in the built environment as divided into first-order and second-order design activities, whereby it is their combined efforts which constitute a ‘design led’ approach. First-order design comes about through the technical output of a range development actors such as architects, landscape architects and highway engineers: practitioners who directly design built artefacts. These are ‘first-order’ designers (Carmona et al., 2010, p.18). However, the study recognises design also involves ‘second-order’ designers (Varkki George, 1997, p.52). These are people who aren’t directly designing built artefacts, but their efforts are still a major place shaping force. For example, second-order designers include those who work in public policy, formulating national planning policies or statutory development plan policies. Development control planners, through the design advice they give, are also second-order designers. The work of these second-order designers is important as they provide a web – a framework – to coordinate built projects and ensure that collectively they amount to more than the sum of the parts (Punter, 2010b, p.337). Although termed ‘second-order’, these designers can, in fact, lead the way. They can be vision makers, whereby they are responsible for providing the concepts of how to organise spatial patterns of urban areas (Carmona et al., 2010, p.19). Lang (1994, p.74) calls the same second-order designers visionaries. An example of visionary second-order design work, of relevance to this study, is John Gummer’s 1996 ‘town centres first’ policy which made retail move back into central areas, rather than going out of town. Without this strategic policy there may not have been a city centre retail scheme like Liverpool One to analyse. While a planning policy, ‘Town Centre First’ was also a fundamentally important design move.

2.4.2 The public’s influence on design There is another key group of second-order designers: the public. As concerns over design quality gradually widened, local people clearly had a role to play in ensuring that developments were liveable, attractive and locally distinctive. In this light, the real ethos of urban design should be the everyday life of the end user. However this, in turn, raises questions about the opportunities available for the public to

31 influence scheme designs through public participation in planning and development processes.

Although planning and urban design have grown closer, the fact remains that, space production is regulated and controlled by the planning system. In statutory terms, it is through the local authority’s planning procedures that the public can comment on/object to a planning proposal and seek to influence the design of a scheme. While public participation in the case study scheme is covered in more detail in chapters five and six, generally, members of the public can make an objection and – given that design issues are a material consideration – this includes the opportunity for an objector to say if they think a development is ‘ugly’. However an objection is always stronger if it relates to a development plan policy. When an application is being considered, an objector can speak at a planning committee meeting to enable them to articulate their concerns and feel they are given due weight (more of which in chapter six). If an objector is worried that they won’t have this opportunity to speak because a planning application may be approved by a planning officer under delegated powers, without the requirement for the proposal to be put before a planning committee (more of which in chapter five), they may contact their local councillor and ask for the application to be referred to committee for a full debate – though there is no guarantee this will happen. If planning permission is granted, objectors have no right of appeal against that decision – except for a tiny number of cases which seek a judicial review, meaning that there has been a serious legal error in the council’s processes.

While legally accurate, this ‘pure’ account of public participation stands in isolation of any real life context. On the other hand, one of the strengths of this study, through its case study approach, is that it allows for public participation to be examined, embedded into a real life situation. Furthermore through interviews the study seeks to understand the meaning of public participation as interpreted by those involved in the study. This allows a full picture of public participation in city centre regeneration to be developed – with the caveat that, for this study, a full and contextualised understanding of public participation was hindered by the use of ‘shadow consultations’ in the Liverpool One scheme. These involve interactions between a developer and individuals outside formal planning processes (more of which in chapter five) and result in a subsequent lack of traceable reporting. This dashed initial hopes of charting changes to the case study’s scheme design over time, following feedback at public consultation events, to better ascertain the public’s influence over the design. However, this was not possible.

2.5 Towards a theoretical framework This section explains the study’s theoretical foundations. The rationale for building the research upon the key theories of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities was that, together, they formed a framework that worked well for the phenomenon being studied: the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space. Broadly speaking each theory was regarded as a lens through which to ‘see’ and understand certain aspects of this phenomenon. However it is understood treating a theory as a ‘lens’ or ‘sieve’ can make a study blind to other aspects of the phenomena that are not part of that particular theory (Anfara, 2008, p.5). Anfara continues that using theory as a lens can both reveal meaning, but can also conceal meaning by filtering out pieces of data. As data has to fit within predetermined categories, a theoretical framework actually delimits a study. For this research, this has been mitigated, to a point, by structuring the study around not one, but three key theories – an approach which also seeks to maintain the complexity and interest of the reproduction of city centre space. Despite these drawbacks, using theory guides research towards what is relevant, assists in the naming of what is happening and enables the study to be situated within other research by using the accepted language of each theoretical perspective (Anfara, 2008, p.7). In short, utilising theory enables critical engagement. Moreover, by bringing together three sets of different ideas, the study hopes to generate new linkages and constructive relationships between them. In these ways, the study offers a new direction for urban design studies.

In terms of the originality of the research, while in built environment studies semiotics is already an established perspective, postpolitics and mobilities are new areas of thinking and are not yet part of an established body of urban design theory. As already highlighted, it is believed that nobody has yet used the emerging literature on postpolitics and mobilities to form a better understanding of contemporary urban design. In this way, by introducing this recent theorising to the field, the study seeks to shed new light on urban design controversies, or lack of controversies.

2.5.1 Critical realism The theoretical framework for the study was drawn from themes relating to the reproduction of city centre space, primarily through the reading of peer-reviewed journal articles as a way of examining pre-existing theories in the built environment field. In this way, the study sought to identify theories from the outset of the inquiry, though – frustratingly – many journal articles relating to the built

33 environment did not identify a theoretical framework. Selecting theories was carried out under the over-arching philosophical perspective of critical realism. Critical realists believe the world is complex and messy, but an external reality still exists (Banai, 1995, p.569). The task of research is to explain this messy world. It does this through the development of theories. Theories represent a systematic attempt to better understand reality (Fox et al., 2007, p.71). However critical realists accept the limitations of theories: that they can never perfectly understand or offer direct knowledge of reality (Banai, 1995; Bryman, 2012; Denzin and Lincoln, 1994; Dunne et al., 2005). While there is an external reality, this exists separate from our descriptions of it (Bryman, 2012, p.29). Critical realism also accepts the fallibility of theories in that research findings are partial and temporary in nature: more data could offer a more complete understanding of any social phenomena (Bryman, 2012; Byrne, 2002).

In seeking to explain the world, critical realists believe there are enduring structures and generative mechanisms underlying and producing discernible phenomena/events (Bhaskar, 1989, p.2; see also Banai, 1995, p.570). However phenomena/events are not simply observed by a researcher, but understood through the experiences/perceptions of those involved/affected in order to better understand their motivations, intentions and actions (hence the study’s focus on interviewing). Sexism, for example, might generate certain events, although this example is drawn-on with the caveat that phenomena/events are usually the product of a plurality of underlying structures and generative mechanisms. Given that this plurality of underlying structures and generative mechanisms is not immediately apparent, it is through the practical and theoretical work of researchers that they are identified to be at work. Once identified, then reality can be better understood and change can come about. It is the prospect of change that makes critical realism critical (Bryman, 2012, p.29). The critical of critical realism also relates to the fact any theories/attempts to explain the world should always open to challenge and subjected to the widest possible critical examination (Denzin and Lincoln, 1994, p.110; Denscombe, 2010, p.127).

As critical realism helps guide research where any explanations of the world are concerned with how underlying mechanisms produce phenomena/events, Banai (1995, p.565) highlights its usefulness in informing urban studies, given its ability to integrate social and spatial systems. For this study, drawing upon three different theories lends itself to the critical realist paradigm, which emphasises the complexity of social phenomena and that the belief that no single theory could

34 feasibly hold a monopoly on explanations of the world (Banai, 1995, p.577). Moreover, given the different urban processes at play, some theories are better suited to give clarity to the urban issue under analysis than others. However, when selecting theories to conceptualise the study, care was taken to ensure they were the most applicable theories. In this light, through the reading of journal articles, different theories were tentatively tested and if they appeared to be only partially relevant they were rejected.

2.5.2 The selection of key theories The starting point for creating a theoretical framework was semiotics. Semiotics, in wide terms, relates to the study of signs and symbols and their social connotations as elements of communicative behaviour. In urban environments, built forms can be stylistically arranged – visually and spatially – as a series of signs and, as such, a well-designed urban environment can bring aesthetic pleasure for people. With its focus on built structures and forms, urban semiotics tends towards an approach where best practice in urban design is perceived to be assembled via the use codified systems akin to recipes or patterns (Forsyth, 2007, p.465). These design ideas are then spread via the rolling-out of best practice examples. Urban semiologists believe that, like perfecting a recipe, creating engaging structural compositions can also be perfected. As such, ‘good’ urban design discourse is dominated by semiotics.

However a theoretical framework based on semiotics alone would not generate sufficient insights into the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space. This is for two key reasons. Firstly, although semiotics has an interest in movement – the rolling-out of best practice examples – movement is now far more complex in the current global age. There was a need to bring the discussion up to date. For this reason, while semiotics thinking still informs the parts of the study concerned with design excellence/best practice, the study also draws on mobilities thinking to examine more broadly the inward migration of new design outlooks. Mobilities thinking relates to globalisation and all the different design ideas circuiting the globe, and how ideas are taken from this wider flow and given an actual physical existence in schemes like Liverpool One. The second reason a theoretical framework based on semiotics alone was not considered sufficient is that semiotics tends to ignore the wider context behind the production of space. Yet ‘place’ is a political fact (Lynch. 1976, p.72). In examining the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space, political and institutional analysis is required, for which the study draws upon postpolitical thinking. Postpolitics is recent body of theorising in

35 response to the acceptance of capitalism – in particular the UK strand of neoliberalism – as the dominant model in contemporary political thinking.

By identifying a theoretical foundation from the outset, it was intended to focus the study. The theoretical foundation determined what type of data needed to be gathered and, as such, the theoretical framework influenced the research questions. Subsequently, at the data analysis stage – amongst the wealth of collected data – the theoretical foundation acted as a guide to help make sense of the data and determine what type of data was the most important. In short the theoretical framework provided the structure, the scaffolding, for the study – not least by framing the purpose of the empirical chapters, thus ensuring the appropriate data was generated for each. In this light, postpolitical thinking frames chapters five and six, semiotics frames chapter seven and mobilities frames chapter eight.

2.6 Postpolitics Postpolitics relates to the belief that the capitalist market should be the organisational foundation of society. This is especially since the end of the Cold War period and the fall of the Berlin Wall, which brought to an end the idea that socialism could be an alternative to capitalism. Instead there is a perception that capitalism has won. Wider than this, however, the current ‘postpolitical condition’ has emerged out of economic globalisation, the proliferation and acceptance of different lifestyles (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.91) and the subordination of “politics proper” through managerial-technocratic regimes of governance (Žižek, 2005, p.117). Taking each of these postpolitical features in turn, it is argued that, with economic globalisation (more of which later) has come about a consensus on the necessity of the world capitalist economy. This has led to the subsequent reduction of democratic life to the management of the local consequences of this global necessity (Swyngedouw, 2009, p.601; Corcoran, 2010, p.4). Politics, including local politics, is perceived to work to maintain the status quo of global capitalism and – as such – consensus thrives as people have resigned themselves to this economic reality and its inevitable course of events (Žižek, 2000, p.319). However, while the term ‘consensus’ may suggest peaceful discussion and reasonable agreement, the political philosopher Jacques Rancière argues consensus represents the non-existence of politics (Rancière, 2000, p.123; see also Mouffe, 2005, p.2). Rather than a place of consensus, Rancière argues that politics proper is a form of dissensual activity, characterised by the presence of differences of opinion. For Rancière, politics represents a shared space, a public sphere, in which

36 groups make themselves visible and audible by making their arguments heard by others already in that space – arguments they would not ‘normally’ have a reason to see and hear (Rancière, 2010, p.37). For example, the arguments put forward by advocates working for LGBT equality.

In this way, what was unseen becomes visible and what was previously mere noise is heard as speech (Rancière, 2010, p.38). While historically this political space has centred around more adversarial politics – left versus right, for example – more class-based politics have been superseded by the rise of identity and issue-specific politics (Žižek, 2000; Swyngedouw, 2009; Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012). Again, a case in point is LGBT advocacy work, where voices have arisen from sexuality and gender identity-based communities. By becoming visible and heard, groups politically appear. Therefore politics, in Rancière’s sense, has a radical dimension: it is always in a state of innovation and thus ‘of the moment’. In this way, society comes into being (Swyngedouw, 2009, p.604). However, despite the proliferation of different lifestyles, it is argued that they can’t find a perfect expression in the current postpolitical order because the properly political has been progressively replaced through managerial-technocratic regimes of governance (Žižek, 2005; Swyngedouw, 2009; Corcoran, 2010). The result is a form of societal management where experts and managers are relied upon to resolve conflicts. Through being choreographed by experts and managers in this way, this approach is rendered largely apolitical (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.92). However it is not apolitical for two key reasons. Firstly, managerial-technocratic regimes bring about a subordination of politics whereby more managerial ways of governing reduces politics to ‘policing’ (Rancière, 2000, p.124; see also Mouffe, 2005, p.9). Policing is more concerned with activities which create order/maintain an established order of governance through defined roles, processes and acceptable outcomes. Policies are how order is created (Mouffe, 2005, p.9). In this vein, in planning decisions, policy-making – not politics in Rancière’s sense – are fundamentally important.

The second way managerial-technocratic regimes are not apolitical is the way in which they divide-up people on the basis of their perceived propriety of place, potentially shrinking political participation to those supporting the status quo. This is achieved by developing underlying mechanisms which put margins around Rancière’s perceived political space and thus any political situation (Corcoran, 2010, p.5). Referring to this as the partition or distribution of ‘the sensible’, this puts those who are considered legitimate partners in the debate within the margins,

37 leaving others as noise on the outside (Rancière, 2010, p.36). In this way, consensus is not obtained through dialogue, but through creating boundaries. This is not apolitical. Rather managerial-technocratic governance regimes herald the end of politics (Rancière, 2010, p.43). They make politics appear incompatible with the status quo and thus consensualist practices can flourish despite today’s multiplication of differences and identities, nourished by the consensualism global capitalism demands (Rancière, 2000, p.125). However identity and issue-specific politics are not intrinsically anti-capitalist: they can seek reformist goals that can be satisfied within the capitalist system (Žižek, 2000, p.319). The key issue is equality, and it is through arguing that people demonstrate their equality. As such, the most elementary gesture of depoliticization is to ‘rid’ people of their speech/voice (Rancière, 2010, p.38). In planning/urban design, stakeholder-based practices are an example of creating margins around political participation, to enable these types of privileging and inclusions/exclusions to occur. Postpolitical writers (Žižek, 2000; Mouffe, 2005; Swyngedouw, 2011; Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012) have highlighted the use of these types of mechanisms to predetermine, or foreclose, who is allowed to politically participate. Žižek (2000, p.320) argues that the experts and managers, having structured in advance the very terrain in which political debate can take place, are the victors in political situations. The very absence of struggle and resistance is an indicator that one side – the side of experts/managers – was already victorious from the outset.

In response to ridding people of their voice – scripting them out of political debate – it might be expected that there would be mass pressure by ordinary people, a mass movement even, against such practices. However, we are viewed as living in a post-ideological era, where utopian projects have withered away and ordinary people are allegedly ‘mature’ about the inevitability of the capitalist market now being the organisational foundation of society (Žižek, 2000, p.324). People are realists who understand and accept this, and this acceptance creates a mental block that fundamental social change can ever happen. Those who do not accept this are framed as parochial or regressive ‘outsiders’: traditionalists who are stuck in the past (Swyngedouw, 2009, p.610; Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.93). The result is a politically passive population which has not generated organisations to articulate its demands (Crouch, 2004, pp.29-30).

However, resistance remains. Rather than creating the conditions for a reconciled society, the frustration with the confines of consensual politics inevitably gives way to antagonism and new avenues of dissent. For planning, a key point to make is

38 that disagreements have not been removed, but are instead more carefully stage- managed to limit their disruptive potential to the growth agenda (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.89). Alternatively, disagreements are displaced, as oppositional debate is shifted into arenas outside planning apparatus, for example into the legal arena (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.100). While this is an option for those with the expert support and financial means to participate in a legal challenge (chapter 6), others taking a position of dissent may express/stage their discontent through protest groups, of which the urban environmental justice movement Occupy features in chapter 7.

Despite the many new manifestations of activism that have paralleled foreclosure and consensualism in politics (Swyngedouw, 2011, p.371), such hostility is supposed to be archaic now we have entered this new postpolitical era – eliminated thanks to progress in modern political thinking (Mouffe, 2005, p.3). Yet Swyngedouw (2009, p.615) argues that ‘policing’ practices have actually called these types of protest into being. It is the suffocation of consensus itself that can lead to rupturings like Occupy and the resurfacing of the properly political, as people look for new spaces where fundamental differences can be aired. In this way politics will always re-emerge (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.100; see also Mouffe, 2005, p.4; Swyngedouw, 2009, p.605). The conflictual dimension of social life can’t be eradicated.

With capitalism “the only game in town” (Žižek, 2000, p.321), this has led to claims that planning, as a part of the apparatus of neoliberal governance, has narrowed its purpose to seeking to achieve a mainstream growth agenda. Yet in managing land use changes and the inevitable conflicts around land use, planning has traditionally been “a genuine political space of disagreement” (Swyngedouw, 2007). As such, this section now introduces various consensus-building practices in and around city centre regeneration which will be revisited and explored more fully later, primarily – though not entirely – in chapters five and six. By ‘consensus-building practices’ it is meant practices which allow contradictions in planning and development to be stage-managed, underplayed or displaced, for the benefit of the market.

2.6.1 Masterplanning As The Boom generated the levels of confidence necessary for the long-term planning of investments, masterplanning became popular with developers. Area- wide masterplans promoting place-based visions were perceived to bring a degree of certainty and structure to the market (Madanipour, 2006, p.183). They made

39 the future seem more certain and were especially useful where there were a number of schemes proposed across an area. Additionally, at the site planning level, as projects grew in size and duration, and thus complexity, this made schemes more complicated to deliver. However, masterplanning could help coordinate a scheme’s many component parts and their subsequent phasing.

Moreover, the case study scheme is particularly interesting because its planning application was structured around a 152-page masterplan (Fig. 2.1). From one perspective, this is a good thing, as a masterplan can be viewed as a melting pot, whereby all parties can throw in their issues and hopefully a good result will emerge. In this light, utilising a masterplan in this way chimes with urban renaissance thinking that design was not just an end product, but a core problem solving activity. Indeed a key role of urban design – of which the masterplan is a key vehicle – is to bring “together a diverse range of parties and allowing them to agree on a common programme of action and to act in unison” (Madanipour, 2004, iii). As a melting pot, potentially conflicting pressures, constraints, demands, wish lists, visions, concerns, aspirations and other criteria can be poured into a masterplan. Ideally the result should be a distinct, place-specific set of solutions which are ultimately solidified in physical space (Madanipour, 1997, p.21). However, in light of the postpolitical thinking, this raises questions about whether all parties and all potentially conflicting agendas were given the opportunity to be engaged in Liverpool One’s masterplanning processes.

Figure 2.1: The 152-page Liverpool One masterplan (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

2.6.2 Stakeholder practices Likewise stakeholder practices, on the surface, appear to be a good thing. They are a focused consultation strategy which directs attention upon well-identified stakeholder groups with specific interests. Organised in this way, stakeholder practices give the impression of mass participation. However they are actually a form of limited mass participation (Crouch, 2004, p.116). As already highlighted, through the creation of margins, stakeholder practices enable predetermined political participation and, as such, create outsiders. They prioritise and give a voice to some groups while placing non-stakeholders suspended and silenced on the outside. By scripting-out potential oppositional voices in this way, despite their appearance of mass participation, stakeholder practices are, in fact, “the antithesis of democracy” (Swyngedouw, 2007).

2.6.3 The ‘design meta-narrative’ One aspect of the urban postpolitical condition is how agreement is brokered through ‘feel good’ themes that seem to command agreement as a result of their broadly progressive framing (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2010, p.804; 2012, p.94). For example, achieving sustainable development or an urban renaissance are universally appealing themes. Likewise it could be argued that the case study’s ‘design meta-narrative’ and its pursuit of design excellence are postpolitical because they encouraged support. It would be difficult to disagree with their intentions. However, they could also act as a mask for seeking the unproblematic delivery of growth and development. It is in these ways that some practices related to urban development can seem progressive when democratically they’re actually regressive (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2010, p.812).

2.6.4 Public-private partnerships The underlying foundation of consensus is further deepened by the entanglement between the public and private sector through partnership approaches. Partnership working means the local government has a vested interest in the public acceptance and successful delivery of urban-scale projects (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2012, p.99). Furthermore as local governments’ declining fiscal resources have left them increasingly dependent on private funds to provide city improvements, a consequence has been an extreme lack of confidence in the public sector that they could now perform these types of works, unless under the guidance of the private sector (Crouch, 2004, pp.41-42). For regeneration schemes, this can lead to the planners’ contribution to the development process mainly being the retainment of their long-standing technical expertise in the regulatory functions of planning

(Allmendinger and Haughton, 2010, p.808). However, for all other aspects of place making, local government has “a lot to learn” from the private sector (Crouch, 2004, p.109). Furthermore, as local government, because of declining fiscal resources, withdraws more and more from their former activities – withdrawing from providing for the lives of ordinary people – this can make people apathetic about politics, thus making it easier for corporate interests to privatise the public arena (Crouch, 2004, p.19).

2.6.5 Shadow consultations A characteristic of partnership working, the mixing of statutory and non-statutory mechanisms can mean that, for the general population, it is not always clear that democratic systems are actually being progressively limited. For example, the shadow consultations which are undertaken outside formal planning processes, and then used as a basis on which to make contentious decisions. Developers themselves can undertake these shadow consultations and thus seek to ‘short circuit’ the formal democratic processes of statutory planning (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2010, p.813).

2.6.6 Delegated powers Creating a more market supportive planning system has led to pressure for quicker decisions on proposals. As such, the wide use of delegated powers has enabled working at speed, whereby planning officers determine planning applications without the requirement for the proposal to be put before a planning committee. Working at speed is particularly desirable for urban-scale projects because of their financing. When financial institutions invest in these projects through loans from banks, the financial pressure of these loans then requires working at speed, in order to limit the interest on bank loan repayments. Given that local government has a vested interest in the successful delivery of urban-scale projects, it would be beneficial for them to adapt planning mechanisms to facilitate speed. However, this raises questions about how focusing on delivery and speed impacts on democracy, particularly in terms of public participation in the production of the built environment.

2.6.7 The press There are other ways that political participation can be limited, not only within a project’s planning processes, but also around a project. Participation can be limited via limiting the right of the ordinary person to receive accurate information (Crouch, 2004, p.13). This includes through print journalism. This relates not just

42 the amount of coverage, but that any coverage is pitched as to adequately communicate the political issues and debates around that project (Crouch, 2004, p.49).

2.7 Democratic urban settings It is not just planning mechanisms that can be perceived to be undemocratic, but also the finished urban forms and management structures related to them. This is particularly relevant to outdoor malls as they result in such large megaforms. As such, potentially extensive areas of a city are not covered by more usual, more democratic settings. In this light, the following two key, post-completion issues are now introduced, to be elaborated upon in chapters five and seven.

2.7.1 Privatisation of space Firstly, in some regeneration projects, through the transfer of public assets to private owners, the streets and open spaces are privatised. However once the scheme is complete, if people have an issue with these privatised areas, this leaves concerned citizens with less avenues of action available to seek to address their issues. The right to comment has been moved away from the citizen’s reach (Crouch, 2004, p.102). Concerned citizens can seek to contact the owners, but private firms are difficult to control by democratic means and they have little allegiance to local communities, unlike local government. Along a similar vein is the issue of local government’s role when faced with such public concerns, when a scheme is a partnership venture. This also raises questions about how success is measured for a completed scheme: what is an indicator of the success of these streets and spaces? If a street is privatised, it will be the owners – the private firms – who will choose the indicators of success, not the users (Crouch, 2004, pp.87-88). Yet private firms have an incentive to make profit rather than better the welfare of the public, so their indicators will relate towards consumption, whereas the users may be more concerned about other issues (Crouch, 2004, p.97) – disabled access for example.

2.7.2 Phantom firms Secondly, in terms of democratic urban settings, questions are raised about the implications of allowing firms to embed themselves into cities through partnership working. This is not just through physically controlling large tracts of land, but by allowing firms to embed themselves into public policy. Partnership working can create what the political scientist Colin Crouch calls ‘phantom firms’. A phantom firm is characterised by its capacity to deconstruct itself in order to become

43 dominant in contemporary society (Crouch, 2004, p.35). Crouch argues that it is uncritically accepted that firms position themselves to benefit from public policy, so that public policy protects their investment, rather than betters the welfare of the public. He reminds us that firms are not simply organizations, but concentrations of power and that this type of politicized business elite, a minority interest – albeit a powerful one – has become far more active than the mass of ordinary people in making the political system work for them (Crouch, 2004, p.97).

2.8 The city makers To bring this postpolitical section to a close it needs to be noted that, against the backdrop of entrepreneurial local governance, consensus-building planning practices can progressively limit democratic systems, especially when allied to the speed issue. A key concern is they can potentially result in a political and economic elite taking all the important decisions in the production/reproduction of cities. As a result, the general population is perceived to be not just politically passive, but manipulated (Crouch, 2004, p.21). A small number of people are perceived to be the city makers: they are in the position to shape cities more and more after their own desires, developing a city’s spaces as they feel best. As such, it could be argued that politics and government are increasingly slipping back into the control of privileged elites in a manner characteristic of pre-democratic times, at the cost of egalitarianism (Crouch, 2004, p.6). This is of interest to the research because the case study scheme was developed by Grosvenor, the development company owned by the Duke of Westminster, the late Gerald Grosvenor, who was ranked 5th in the Sunday Times Rich List 2016 with a worth of £9.35 billion. His son is now the Duke of Westminster.

In terms of a small elite shaping cities after their own desires, also of interest is the fact, as already highlighted, that an outdoor mall has to be large to achieve the required regional retail pull. Yet the larger the site, the more demanding it is of time, resources and expertise. As such, only the largest, wealthiest and most experienced development companies can even consider becoming involved with these types of scheme. Additionally, the required financing drives large schemes like outdoor malls into the domain of these types of development companies. It is not only global finance that operates as a key force behind urban-scale schemes, but the element of global finance known as ‘high finance’. High finance is defined as financial transactions involving large sums. The sheer cost of city centre schemes means that only ‘high finance’ can invest in projects of this nature. For instance, listed chronologically, the estimated construction costs of Birmingham’s

27-acre Bullring (dating initially to the 1960s, but redeveloped in 2003) were around £600 million, Birmingham’s 17-acre Brindleyplace (1993) were around £400 million, Bristol’s 36-acre Cabot’s Circus (2008) were around £500 million, the 42.5- acre case-study scheme Liverpool One (2008) were around £1.3 billion and London’s 67-acre Kings Cross (2013) were around £550 million. Additionally, at ‘only’ 6.5 acres, but costs of £378 million, Trinity Leeds opened in 2013 after delays due to the global financial crisis.

These schemes are characterised by a type of development made possible by the large size of development companies and their massive productive capacity that make the production of large parts of cities in short periods of time possible (Madanipour, 2004, ii). They get things done quickly and impressively. In comparison, this makes piecemeal development feel slow paced, ponderous and lacking in verve (Landry, 2006, p.395). In terms of public participation, however, of particular concern is whether such schemes are just too big for people to comment on, in comparison to more piecemeal, single site applications. Another concern is whether there is too much movement too quick to be fully creative. By creative, it is meant that time was allowed for imaginative solutions within the built environment to be fully considered, in a manner Harvey (1989, p.73) defines as the capacity of a city “to handle the unexpected in controlled but creative ways”. This is a different outlook on design than focusing on ideas of design excellence/best practice, which the next section – semiotics – will examine in more detail.

2.9 Semiotics Given the study’s interest in what happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, the study has sought out a case-study scheme with the stated aim of pursuing design excellence. To fully understand what constitutes design excellence/best practice in urbanism, an awareness of the theory of semiotics is necessary. Semiotics is the second key theoretical foundation of the study and the themes introduced in this section will be expanded upon later, primarily in chapter seven, but also in chapter eight. As already highlighted, urban semiotics focuses on the built structures and forms of cities – their structural compositions. In the built environment, successful schemes, or parts of schemes, can be deconstructed in order to be comprehended (Grebner and Bermudez, 1988). In this way, character can be reduced to a set of formal elements.

Best practice guides are an example of this type of thinking. Via a process of clarifying and codifying examples, and then rolling-out the best examples from

45 elsewhere, the intention is to lift up under-performers to higher standards of design. In this way, ideas of ‘good’ urban design are sustained as certain design ideas become anointed as best and naturally rise to the top (McCann, 2011, pp.121-123). Over time these ideas have formed the accumulative rules of place making and have subsequently become a powerful force affecting urban form. In fact, Madanipour (2004, iv) argues that what is currently regarded as ‘good’ urban design is actually the institutionalisation of these types of ideas developed over the past 40 years.

2.9.1 Problem processing rather than problem solving As already highlighted, ‘good’ urban design discourse is dominated by semiotics. However, it is argued that the variations of stylistic arrangements are often lovely, or at least interesting, but they have become icons for urban design practice (Forsyth, 2007, p.462). People can become trapped into thinking that creating engaging structural compositions amounts to urban design, at the expense of seeking to address the real daily problems of large sections of urban societies. In this light, Inam (1999, p.20) argues that “urban designers should focus more on the ‘urban’ of urban design, and become less infatuated with the ‘design’ of urban design”. Similarly, a criticism of Towards an Urban Renaissance is that it focuses on a cure for the urban fabric, rather than on the people. This type of criticism relates to the wider design debate of recent years that urban design, like the general practice of design, has undergone its most fundamental revolution yet and has shifted from being a problem solving activity to a “problem-processing one” (Julier, 2000, p.2). In contrast to urban renaissance thinking that design is core problem solving activity, this is the notion that urban design merely acknowledges and processes urban problems. It does not seek to find solutions to urban problems.

Urban poverty can be used to help aid an understanding of the difference between problem solving and problem processing. While the ‘problem’ of visible urban poverty may be acknowledged in the production of a scheme, design interventions would then work to ensure the scheme wasn’t interrupted by urban poverty. This could be achieved by controlling views via solutions like screening to keep everyday urban problems out of sight, using steps and elevations to direct attention to desirable vistas, the hiding of servant space and various ways of suggesting segregation: gateway features, the use of enclosures, the careful use of (often thematic) segmentations – or ‘quarters’ (Sorkin 1992b, p.215 and p.230). Bruner (1990, p.96) refers to this approach as ‘stonewalling’, whereby everything outside

46 the official narrative of the scheme is silenced or stonewalled. This is particularly relevant to outdoor mall-ing. A retail environment seeks to keep people contentedly within it, while the reality outside evaporates (Goss, 1993, p.32). The intention is that people will relax and spend money. However, when retail is used as a driver for city centre regeneration, particularly through a megaform like an outdoor mall, a key concern is how stonewalling sits with broader regeneration aims of social inclusion.

2.9.2 Symbolism and drama Structural compositions are visual (aesthetic) and spatial (volumetric). These are tangible qualities and, as such, place is a factual event (Madanipour 1996, p.53). However urban design creates not only new visual and spatial futures, but also new symbolic futures. Design can overlay structural compositions with symbolic components and, as such, places can carry symbolic meanings for people beyond their functional meanings as a factual event. The use of symbolic cues sets a certain tone for an environment. Retail schemes, especially, use symbolic cues in order to enhance consumptive behaviour. This is largely because retail scheme designs are based on market research which develops stereotypical profiles of consumers based on class/lifestyle (Goss, 1993, p.31). A specific retail environment is then designed around these profiles. If the environment is aimed to appeal to middle-class shoppers, symbolic cues are consciously used to socially differentiate between high-end and low-end retail. It is all about sending out the right message. Goss continues that, through the use of class-loaded cues – for example gold leaf signage, brass accents and marble floors – a retail environment is designed to specifically appeal to middle-class shoppers, and, by implication, not to appeal to others (see also Aravot, 2002, p.207). However, an issue for city centre regeneration is that people are being socially filtered, which leads to social segregation rather than social integration – a stated aim of Towards an Urban Renaissance. This raises questions about the appropriateness of outdoor mall-ing as an approach to city centre regeneration.

The high-end retail market tends to overlook the poor, whereas city centre streets and open spaces have historically been “the last preserve of something approaching a mixing of all sectors of society” (Boddy, 1992, p.125). While they can’t actually solve the inequalities of urban living, they have presented somewhere where everybody can mix. They are binding agents (Sorkin, 1992a, xv). However this everyman status changes when outdoor mall-ing leads to city centre streets being not only privatisatised, but commodified. Their commodification means that their

47 purpose is focused around money exchange. To facilitate money exchange high- end retail favours the more spectacularised street. This character contrasts with the view of public streets as having a more ordinary, work-a-day, “everyday landscape” that has come about over time (Relph, 1976, p.132). Instead the retail logic is that, by extending the period spent ‘just looking’ in a spectacularised street, this can turn into an imaginative prelude to buying whereby people start mentally trying on products and thus a bond starts to form between them and the object (Crawford, 1992, p.13). This leads to an increased chance of a purchase. In this way, shopping environments are created like theatrical sets in which retail drama can occur (Crawford, 1992, p.22). External space, which once lay outside of the marketplace, becomes a stage prop for the shops themselves, whereby its role is providing “the decor for our acts of consumption” (Boyer, 1992, p.200 and p.204). There is the counter argument, though, of what is wrong with a more spectacularised street? After all, “as long as we are going to shop, why not do so in a pleasant environment?” (Ellis, 2000, p.104). However privatising and commodifying city centre streets as part of a retail scheme raises the issue of a “distortion’ of purpose” (Crouch, 2004, p.85). While there may be no actual, physical gates, their commodification can involve an “elaborate procedure of creating barriers of access” for those with no money to exchange (Crouch, 2004, p.85). Thus people who behave in a ‘non-consumerist’ way may be stigmatised in these spaces (Carter, 2008) – thus silencing other aspects of city life in these streets. Again, this raises questions about the appropriateness of outdoor mall-ing as an approach to city centre regeneration.

2.9.4 Phenomenology In terms of the use of symbolism in built forms to seek to direct human experience, semiotics believes that the object (the built environment) 'sends' information which the subject (the people) 'read' (Grebner and Bermudez, 1988). The main task of the subject (the people) is to decode the messages which have been previously encoded and thus actually exist in the environment. For example the Neo-Georgian housing style has tangible, factual architectural features like formality and balance while, at the same time, reflecting (or symbolising) a historical age of relative peace for this country (Dimbleby, 2007, p.144). It is encoded with messages of calm and stability which, in turn, could help explain its popularity.

In this way, semiotics tends to consider people as malleable and human experience as passive, which the study regards as a limitation of semiotics thinking. As such, while the study draws on semiotics to help conceptualise design excellence/best

48 practice in three dimensional design, for issues relating to symbolism, the related concept of phenomenology is drawn upon. Although not considered to be one of the three key theoretical foundations of the study, phenomenology is an alternative understanding of space and people’s reactions to space. Phenomenology is particularly concerned with understanding a ‘sense of place’ and was made popular in the 1970s by the writers Edward Relph, Christian Norberg-Schulz and Yi-Fu Tuan, among others. However, since the start of the 1990s phenomenology has been discredited for reasons such as an over-emphasis on morphology and symbolism, and paying too little attention to the political and economic realities enmeshed in the production of place (Aravot, 2002, p.206). However, given retail uses symbolism as a subtle method of social control, phenomenology is considered appropriate for this research, in respect of seeking to better understand people’s perceptions of their place in newly designed city centre spaces.

Phenomenology differs from semiotics in that it is 'active’. The subject – the person – takes an active role in their environment, interpreting and interacting with it (Grebner and Bermudez, 1988). In reality people form their own decisions about place-character – about a sense of place – as understood through their own personal response to a place. This is because phenomenology believes that humans actively project their own structures onto the exterior world in order to comprehend it. As such, while designed outcomes can be manipulated, they can only seek influence to the feelings a person holds towards a place: design cannot actually determine people’s feelings towards a place (Relph, 1976, p.17). People are not completely malleable. While an outdoor mall can overlay structural compositions with symbolic cues, it cannot dictate what those symbolic cues mean to people and thus direct human experience.

2.9.5 Personal responses to place Goss (1993, p.43) gives a phenomenological account of how places are experienced. An area of upmarket boutiques polished its marble floors as part of a wider operation to motivate people to spend money. However, instead of feeling motivated, some people experienced feelings of inadequacy when they inevitably compared the shiny marble to their own floors at home. In response, the manager had the shine reduced. In these ways, phenomenology intersects with the belief that a sociocultural discourse takes place between producers and consumers. Biddulph (1995, p.760) points out that it is not as simple as the market leads and the public follow its tastes and values. Instead the relationship between consumer and producer of urban environments is dynamic: they are both shaping and being

49 shaped by each other. In this way, material ‘stuff’, including buildings and external spaces, may need to be changed or updated long before anything is actually physically worn out. This is to avoid a development feeling dated, which is especially important for retail schemes, with their onus on keeping new and fresh.

2.10 Mobilities Mobilities is the third key theoretical foundation of the study, of which the issues raised in this section will be returned to predominately in chapter eight, and also in chapters five and seven. In this study, ‘mobilities’ is used as a lead-term for associated bodies of work which focus on ‘relational geographies’ and urban ‘assemblage’ thinking. Running parallel and intertwined with the acceptance of global capitalism, they represent recent theoretical thinking in response to globalisation, the worldwide movement towards economic, financial and trade integration (Sassen, 2005; Ward, 2010; Massey, 2011; McCann, 2011). Given the research’s interest in the reproduction of city centre space, as already highlighted, ‘moblities’ relates to all the different design ideas circuiting the world in this global age, and how ideas were taken from this wider flow and given an actual physical existence in schemes like Liverpool One. Given this focus on flows, this involves a shift from studying ‘sites’ (cities) to studying ‘fields’: the flows and relations between sites or cities (Burawoy, 2000, xii) – hence the term ‘relational geography’. For this study, the term urban ‘assemblages’ relates to the fact cities are relational in this way – related to each other – but also territorial. Designs are not simply taken from flows from elsewhere, but are embedded in a place. As such, places are urban assemblages: assembled in a place are ideas from elsewhere, but also from close-by (McCann et al., 2013, p.583). More than this, however, it is the actual being in transit/mobilization that changes the character and content of the design idea: designs are always being reinvented between sites. This section will now examine these associated bodies of thinking in more detail, in relation to urban design.

2.10.1 Global networks and global cities Although international trade across borders – including investing in enterprises in other countries – has been taking place for centuries, the movement has speeded up enormously over the last half-century. This is due to financial and investment markets being better enabled to operate internationally, largely as a result of advances in transportation and improved communications (particularly information technologies, including mobile technology) and also through deregulation – as governments cut and simplified regulations in the hope of attracting this

50 increasingly footloose international trade. These key conditions have brought about an associated increase in the mobility and liquidity of capital which, in turn, has led to the development of a global financial system – ‘global finance’ – and a global economy. A global economy is different from international trade. What defines a global economy is that it is connected by global networks. Given that these networks are integrated, in a global economy, financial markets are more interdependent and thus more complex. This means when something happens in one area it can have knock on effects worldwide. This was demonstrated by the global financial meltdown of 2008–2009 triggered by massive losses in the sub- prime mortgage market in the USA (Knox, 2011, p.135).

Globalisation has impacted on the production of the built environment because financial markets now invest in urban development all around the world. The result is an urban process that is global in scope and a planet that has become a building site (Harvey, 2008, p.37). However, the planet has not literally become a building site because not every location is viewed as a potentially profitable terrain to the global financial sector. Instead these globalisation processes are most relevant to the ‘global city’ (Sassen, 2005, p.28). A global city has a precise meaning. It is defined by being successfully ‘plugged’ into the global networks of the global economy. To better understand this plugging-in, global finance can be conceptualised as a connective tissue overlaid across the globe, always in motion, circuiting the globe in a criss-cross manner. At certain points along these circuits, global finance sees paths to the earth’s surface – actual places – where it can come to Earth and invest. Cities are nodes (or moments or events) within these global finance circuits (McCann et al., 2013, p.583). In this way cities are important elements of global systems (Ward, 2010, p.482). This is not least because cities, as nodes, provide a real physical place where – together with the flows of finance – comes an inward migration of new outlooks. For the built environment this means that current thinking on investment/profit and new/emerging ideas about spatiality/design, which had previously been unrelated, can all come together and settle. In this light, the research is interested in which ideas were taken from this wider flow and given an actual physical existence in the case study scheme.

For entrepreneurially-minded local governments, they can help their city become a node by offering the path of least resistance – a smooth corridor – to any potential inward migration of global finance, by adapting their practices to stabilize opportunity structures for private sector investment. This aim is to offer certainty, and is especially important in the current age of intercity competition where cities

“battle” (Carmona, 2009, p.2648) against each other to attract investment. In this competitive environment, offering certainty gives a city an edge on other rival cities who are also seeking to regenerate. In this respect, Coleman et al. (2005, p.2515) called Liverpool One “the jewel in the crown” of developments unfettered by red tape. In response to such claims, the research is interested in focusing down on the minutiae of the processes behind the production of Liverpool One and setting out an in-depth case study of exactly how planning mechanisms can be adapted to offer a smooth corridor to the private sector by helping to stabilize opportunities for investment.

2.10.2 Relational geographies There is, however, another view of intercity relationships which is more nuanced than a ‘battle’. It challenges the “neoliberal mantra” that cities must compete with each other (Massey, 2011, p.11). Rather than perceiving competitive relationships between cities, the counter argument is that perhaps relationships take place within creative fields instead, as cities turn to each other to learn from their successes and failures. For example, having witnessed the transformative successes of global cities, local governments in places like Liverpool may have wished to define and secure the same future for themselves. After all, one way to achieve a comeback is to learn from how others have dealt with the same experiences of real-world problems (Knox, 2011, p.47). In this way, the ascendance of the city has enabled the formation of city-to-city transactions and networks. This means that cities are not just nodes within global finance circuits, but “relational nodes” (McCann, 2011, p.109). This has resulted in not so much battles, but rather “a constellation of different relational geographies” (Massey, 2011, pp.7-8).

Given the shift from studying sites to studying fields, relational geography is interested in how different cities are implicated in each other’s past, present and future (Ward, 2010, p.480). It focuses on how something can happen in one city and how this impacts on sites in other cities. An example is the spread of Icona. Icona’s universal appeal lies in its reputation for luring people back to a city. In this light, iconic schemes around the world are formed via interconnected trajectories which tie them to other distant Icona sites: flows of capital, ideas and information. This results in schemes which are not geographically proximate yet are intensely connected to each other (Sassen, 2005, p.39). In this vein, of interest to the study is how the designs of Liverpool One might be connected to designs elsewhere.

2.10.3 Onward migration and spatial fixes The study also has an interest in the onward migration of design ideas. To return the metaphor of the multiple and intersecting networks criss-crossing the world, next comes the onward migration of design ideas as they are exported back to this connective tissue. Here they will circuit the globe until the next node (or moment) where flows of capital, ideas and information can come together on Earth at a future point in time. The process is continuous, as capitalism searches globally in its perpetual need to find new profitable terrains in which to reinvest its surpluses. However, the belief is that the exported design ideas will have been reinvented in some way during their time ‘on the ground’ in their most recent node/location. They will have changed before being exported back to this connective tissue. A key point to make in terms of design migration, is that design ideas aren’t moved around like jars on shelves (McCann, 2011, p.111). Design ideas don’t generally, literally, migrate from site to site. Instead, being in transit within this connective tissue circuiting the globe, changes the character and content of the mobilized object. In this way, mobilities are different from movement. As such, the study is not only interested in how the designs of Liverpool One might be connected to designs elsewhere, but how they have been reinvented and – following the completion of the scheme – if the onward migration of Liverpool One’s design ideas/processes can be traced.

Furthermore, while the focus of this study is design ideas, all sorts of knowledge, practices, expertise and policies can be extracted from their origins and assembled elsewhere, in a local context where they become a reinvented/mutated version of their original, and then perhaps are exported again (Wang, 2017). For the reproduction of city centre space, within these processes of mobilization, mutation/realization and exportation, a key way designs are reinvented is through becoming territorialised: made local. Local places, people and processes influence scheme designs. In these ways, for the study, the term ‘assemblage’ relates to the idea that cities are both relational and territorial. They are territorial because, through local ground level influences, scheme designs become embedded in a place. Harvey (2008, p.33) reminds us that places are still territorial, that there are still social pressures which seek to reshape the city in a different image from that put forward by developers backed by finance, corporate capital and an increasingly entrepreneurially-minded local state apparatus. These groups do not fully command the whole urban process. Places are not submissive, accepting the urban forms global finance creates. Similarly Madanipour reminds us that the

53 processes of globalisation are not found concentrated in mysterious flows around the earth or in cyberspace, but in cities themselves: “It is in cities that decisions are made and communicated, where the main economic, political and cultural activities take place, and where most people live and work. Their embeddedness, therefore, makes the material conditions of cities a crucial component of the globalization process” (Madanipour, 2006, p.176). There are actually two key processes at play, mobility and territorialisation, and by mixing the two, scheme designs can create their own “spatial fix” (Harvey, 2001). In this light, the ways in which ‘Liverpool’ claimed Liverpool One’s scheme design – territorialised and embedded it into Liverpool, and made Liverpool One its own – are of interest to the study.

2.10.4 The cosmopolitanization of taste In terms of using ideas from close-by, as already highlighted, former industrial cities may actually seek to break from their existing character. Instead they may welcome the new forms of contextuality found in the spaces created by the inward migration of global finance and its new outlooks. Furthermore, while global finance may create new spaces which seek to give a city a new identity which is deliberately directed towards outsiders – investors, tourists, shoppers and conventioneers – this is not to say that the local people are unhappy with this. Seeing new design ideas in their cities offers an eclecticism that people are now familiar with. People carry around in their heads all sorts of images of the city from touristic experiences of other places, from films, photographs, television, exhibitions, travel brochures and magazines. This is our musées imaginaire: our own imaginary collection of design reproductions (Jencks 1987, p.95). Like an imagined museum collection of place imagery, our stock of ‘elsewheres’.

As our ‘elsewheres’ have expanded dramatically through the internet and the growth of tourism, and this has brought about a cosmopolitanization of taste. In turn, the cosmopolitanization of taste puts all kinds of commodities and travelling objects into motion (Hannam et al., 2006, p.2). This includes architecture and urban design, as people want the sorts of designs in their cities that they have seen elsewhere. In this way, the very essence of cosmopolitanism is being able to see things which are new and different without going anywhere: to “be tourists without going on vacation” (Goss, 1993, p.40). In this light, urban design allows people who haven’t physically moved to experience cosmopolitanism. However, despite this cosmopolitanization of taste, the success of a new scheme relies on public

54 acceptance. This is especially true for retail schemes. For their commercial success people cannot feel alienated by their design: “a product should not scare its prospective consumers” (Loukaitou-Sideris and Banerjee, 1998, p.44). A scheme cannot create an aesthetic distance from ordinary people (Gunder, 2011, p.185). While strong, positive, fresh, contemporary and eclectic are all words associated with new city centre schemes, it is a problem if people find designs not fresh or contemporary, but challenging. In this light, creating somewhere with ‘the right character’ is crucial to outdoor mall schemes.

2.10.5 Sophisticated consumers of place As already highlighted, people have become sophisticated consumers of place. It is a pleasurable public experience to visually consume places: to visit places and just look at buildings and scenographies (Boyer, 1992; Julier, 2008; Urry, 1990; 1994). People enjoy the experience of the view. More than this, however, people enjoy ‘streetmospheres’: all the ‘stuff’ in the streets and the life that comes with it (Sircus, 2001, p.129). In fact Julier (2008, p.5) argues against architecture as the primary expression of urban identity. Instead there is a growing interest in the ways in which material ‘stuff’ makes up places: for example, images, information and consumer commodities (Hannam et al., 2006, p.5 and p.14). This material ‘stuff’ forms the “whole visual repertoire of urban culture” (Greed and Roberts, 1998, vii). This has previously been a blind spot in urban design. In this light, the whole city can be considered as a design product (Julier, 2008, p.5). Amanda Burden (former Director of the New York City Planning Department) feels the same. In the 2011 film Urbanism, she argues that everything – everything – you see around you in the city has been thought about and designed by someone, and this collectively is urban design. However, when the whole city is a design product, this includes us: the aesthetics of people.

At this point, it is important to highlight the relationship between the development of capitalism and design. Most design historians recognize design as a specialist activity that emerged with the Industrial Revolution and the realisation that, by giving a product a fashionable appearance it would ultimately become obsolescent to consumers (Knox, 2011, pp.4-5). Thus demand could be continually stimulated and market saturation avoided. Design is always changing so that people keep replacing stuff, again not because it is physically worn out, but because it looks out of date. This includes the built environment. However, little literature could be found on how fashionable built environments impact on people’s perceptions of their place in that space, in terms of their own aesthetics and personally feeling out

55 of date in some way. To return to spectacularised streets and the retail drama metaphor, it is important to note that visiting these types of image-conscious environments, with their onus on presentation, requires some effort. “Backstage behaviour” such as getting made up is required (Zeisel, 2006, p.332). While there is literature on consuming places, little literature could be found examining how people feel – when the whole city is a design product – about being part of that overall design product and thus also being consumed in these places.

2.11 Summary of the most significant gaps in literature To end, the current literature’s most significant shortcomings identified in this chapter are summarised, in order to lay the foundations for the later empirical chapters. As a general comment, whilst it provides useful concepts and an overall framework through which design-led regeneration can be approached, much of the literature suffers from the limitation that the outdoor mall-ing of city centres is such a recent phenomenon. As such, little of the literature actually related directly to this particular built form, especially in the UK. Therefore the study seeks to generate fresh insights into outdoor mall-ing, particularly into its contribution to regeneration. The chapter also illuminated deficiencies in the literature relating to two issues. There were few in-depth case studies of how planning mechanisms can be used to help stabilise opportunities for private sector investment to redevelop city centre space, into outdoor malls for example. As such the study seeks to advance our knowledge of the individual ways in which planning can be adapted and any wider implications of this. Likewise, hardly any literature was found covering our new aesthetic consciousness towards the built environment and how this might extend to the aesthetics of people in those spaces. As such the study seeks to enhance our understanding of the impacts of image-conscious built environments on people, in terms of people feeling out of date in some way.

Many questions were raised by the literature, which are now summarised under the relevant theory. In terms of postpolitics, a key issue related to how focusing on image might mean the practices behind the production of new schemes, and any spatial-political consequences they might have, might go unconsidered and unchallenged. In this way, some design practices may seem progressive when democratically they’re actually regressive, including whether all potentially conflicting agendas are given the opportunity to be engaged in masterplanning processes. This is especially in light of the size of built forms such as the outdoor mall and the speed of their development. In terms of public participation – political participation – of particular concern was whether such schemes are just too big for

56 people to comment on, and about the of role high quality design in making a development acceptable where otherwise there may be opposition. Post- completion, issues were raised over of the allegiance of private firms to local communities if there are problems with the space and – in partnership ventures – the role of the local government when public concerns are raised, and also how phantom firms can position themselves to benefit from public policy.

In relation to semiotics, given the study’s interest in design excellence in city regeneration, questions were raised about what happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and applied to real world. Given the case study is an outdoor mall, this includes a particular interest in how retail’s more spectacularised streets sit within the urban fabric of the existing more ordinary work-a-day city – and about the appropriateness of retail as a driver for city centre regeneration given retail’s ‘stonewalling’ and social filtering techniques, including perceived barriers of access for those with little money to exchange.

In terms of mobilities thinking, questions were raised about, of all the different new/emerging ideas about spatiality and design that are circuiting the globe, which ideas were taken from this wider flow and given an actual physical existence on the ground. The interest is not just about the extent to which scheme designs are relational in this way, but also territorial: embedded in their location and thus reinvented in some way during their time on the ground in their most recent node before being exported back into the global connective tissue. In addition, given the cosmopolitanization of taste, issues were raised about the public acceptance of schemes and about the importance, especially for an outdoor mall, of creating somewhere with ‘the right character’.

Having examined theories that can help inform design-led regeneration, and analysed the problems with the literature, the study will now turn to a consideration of the research methods that have been used to generate various perspectives of people’s own personal design-led regeneration experiences.

Chapter Three Generating and analysing the data

3.1 Introduction This chapter explains how, guided by the study’s theoretical framework, the data for the study was generated and analysed. It seeks to enable the reader to follow the study’s line of reasoning in its data collection and analysis, and to visualize its research design. A research design – put simply – is a logical plan for getting from here to there, where ‘here’ is the initial set of research questions and ‘there’ is some set of conclusions (answers) about these questions (Yin, 2003, p.20). To this end, the chapter is divided into three parts. Firstly there is an overview of the case study scheme, Liverpool One, and a recap of the research questions. The rationale behind choosing a case study approach is then explained, and the justification for choosing Liverpool One is outlined. Secondly, there is a discussion of the data collection processes, followed by – thirdly – the approach taken to structuring and analysing the collected data, and ultimately drawing conclusions.

3.2 Overview of the study The study, overall, seeks to establish more precise understandings of the contribution of various components of urban design to regeneration efforts. To do this, the study utilises the case study approach for its overall research strategy. The case study scheme under analysis is Liverpool One, which covers 42.5 acres of Liverpool City Centre (Fig 3.1). It is a mix of 27 new and 10 retained/refurbished buildings designed by over 20 different architects, arranged – largely – around pedestrianised streets and spaces. It is mainly retail, anchored by the Debenhams and John Lewis department stores. It also features restaurants, cafes and bars. In addition, there are two hotels, 600 new apartments, circa 3,000 car parking spaces, offices, a replacement bus station/bus layover provision, a Quaker Meeting House, the BBC Radio Merseyside broadcasting studios, a retained-but-smaller pre-existing park (Chavasse Park, now five acres rather than the original 6.5 acres) and commercial/leisure facilities including a 14-screen multiplex cinema and an indoor 36-hole adventure golf centre. Plus there are associated servicing and ancillary facilities, much of which are underground (Liverpool City Council, 2002; Unger, 2007).

Figure 3.1: Liverpool One, ground floor with street names (https://www.liverpool-one.com)

More specifically, Liverpool One is an intervention case study. Behind ‘intervention’ lies the idea of a problem which needs a solution. Liverpool One was the proposed solution to the problem of city centre decline. As such, it was an intervention. Not only this, but it was a design-led intervention. The impacts of Liverpool One on the unsatisfactory situation of city centre decline will be evaluated through a series of research questions. With the primary aim of better understanding what different facets of design can or can’t offer regeneration processes, to recap, the research questions are:

How are key design moves and decisions mediated at the local level in planning and development processes, and who are the different sets of actors involved?

What happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, as exemplified by Liverpool One?

How are ideas of appropriate design assembled in a place, and how are cities implicated in each other’s regeneration efforts?

For the benefit of future city centre regeneration efforts, what key theoretical and practical ideas for developing new approaches to the role of design in planning and development processes can be drawn-out?

It is intended that the data collection will form a cohesive response to seeking to answer these over-arching research questions.

3.3 Justification for the case study approach A case study approach was selected as the research strategy. A case study was considered appropriate for two key reasons. Firstly, its strength lies in the fact it’s a kind of “conceptual container” (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.94). A case study can be viewed as a ‘bowl’ within which the researcher can explore theories and find documents, plans, interviewees and other sources of information required for the working through of the research questions. Furthermore, while not a data collection method itself, the case study ‘bowl’ can contain one or more data collection methods as part of a multi-method approach. In this way, a well- designed case study can draw on a variety of data collection methods from a variety of data sources, within a clearly bounded research site – in this case, Liverpool One. Additionally, not only can a full picture of the research site be built- up, but also how the research site sits within its wider context. In short, case studies are the best strategy when the research focuses on a contemporary phenomenon within a real life context, when the researcher has little/no control over events and when ‘how’ or ‘why’ questions are being asked (Yin, 2003, p.1) – which are the circumstances of this research.

The second reason a case study approach was selected is that a case study is all about connecting with theory, and this sits with the study’s over-arching critical realist philosophical perspective that the task of research is to explain a messy world through the development of theories. In this light, investigating Liverpool One is not just a narrative account of a series of events related to design in city centre regeneration, but involves analysis against an appropriate theoretical framework (Blaikie, 2010, p.195). This is especially important for this study as it involves just one case and there are concerns that it is not possible to generalize from the findings of a single case study (Blaikie, 2010; Bryman, 2016). The argument is that a single case can’t possibly be representative and, as such, it cannot yield findings that can be applied more generally to other cases. However, for researchers concerned that their findings will not have relevance beyond their research site, the challenge is not in making statistical generalisations, which seek to tell us about the wider population, but in making theoretical generalisations: generalizing from a study to a theory (De Vaus, 2001; Blaikie, 2010; Bryman, 2016; Groat and Wang, 2002). The power of a case study is the power to

60 generalise to theory, through seeking to tell us something about specific theories. Case study findings allow theory to be corroborated, challenged, refined or extended – or for new connections between theories to be developed. However, all this does not just ‘turn up’, but is deliberately sought out, guided by a theoretical framework. As such, a key point to make is that case studies benefit from the prior development of a theoretical framework to guide date collection and analysis (Blaikie, 2010; De Vaus, 2001; Yin, 2003). Therefore, for this research, the aim of the case study approach is to investigate if general principles from the theoretical framework can be shown to hold in the development of Liverpool One, and to subsequently draw theoretical conclusions from them. In this way, selecting to study Liverpool One seeks to stimulate theory development.

There is a contra-view, however, to the purpose of the case study being to generalise to theory: that the aim of a case study is to illuminate the general by looking at the particular (Denscombe, 1998, p.53) – albeit cautiously and selectively from one case study studied in depth. Contrary to the belief that a single case can’t be representative, by concentrating on one case, the researcher looks for insights that might have wider implications. For this particular study, whether generalising to theory or to the wider population, a key appeal of a case study is that it allows researchers to get a close and detailed view of a phenomenon and study directly the processes that lead to change (Blaikie, 2010, p.196). As such, in the concluding chapter, in addition to seeking to generalise to theory, on a more practical level the study also seeks to identify emerging trends in urban design.

3.4 Conceptual model Table 3.1 shows a conceptual model (or framework) which aims to pull together and make visible the research design for the study. It seeks to visually communicate the study’s logic of inquiry and the direction of the research. In short, the conceptual model demonstrates how the study is going to go about answering the overall research question. In line with the study’s theoretical framework, the theoretical base of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities underpins this conceptual model, but added to theory are other concepts to help explain the study. In this light, the model shows how the case study approach acts as a conceptual container. Within this stands the overarching critical realist perspective that the task of research is to explain a messy world through the development of theories. As such, in the face of the potential mass of available data, each of the three theories acts as a ‘lens’ or ‘sieve’ to prioritise and analyse the data – and also

61 to reveal meaning in the data. In this way, the three theories focus the study. The three theories are artificially separated across four empirical chapters for clarity, allowing the reader to better identify and understand the study’s theoretical base. However they are not silos and throughout the empirical chapters relationships and connections between other chapters are identified. More than this, through identifying synergies across the empirical chapters, in the concluding chapter these synergies are brought together in order to identify the emergence of key trends in urban design – and thereby generalise the findings to the wider population. Also, the concluding chapter generalises to theory through identifying the study’s key theoretical implications. In these two ways it is hoped that the final stage of the study will have relevance beyond the research site and thus shed light on the overall research question: can a design-led approach to redevelopment deliver city centre regeneration?

Table 3.1: Conceptual model

3.5 Justification for the choice of case study Informed by the theoretical framework, the selection of Liverpool One as the case study scheme was strategic. Liverpool One appeared to have particular characteristics that would help answer the overall research questions, by allowing

62 the opportunity to see how a number of concepts and theories were actually shown to hold in a real life situation. Firstly it is an outdoor mall, the built form which “provides the architectural vehicle through which big finance can plan and implement legible large-scale development” (Jewell, 2016, p.32). This is arguably capitalism remaking the city in the shopping mall’s image, which is of interest to a study with postpolitics as a theoretical underpinning. Secondly, Liverpool One chimes with the New Labour urban renaissance ethos. Officials within Liverpool City Council were influenced by New Labour’s thinking about the positive reinvention of urban spaces and their 1999 Development Brief for the scheme embodied much of this new agenda (Littlefield, 2009, pp.39-40). Thirdly, the scheme was built on a partnership between the private sector and Liverpool City Council, an approach favoured by Towards an Urban Renaissance, and on redeveloped land – also a favoured approach. However, while a brownfield site, the pre-development site wasn’t a vacant or abandoned (Fig 3.2): Liverpool City Council had to acquire 248 different interests/ownerships when they assembled land for the finished scheme (Fig 3.3). Fourthly, the scheme’s masterplan, around which its planning application was centred, explicitly stated that the intention was to apply design excellence throughout the scheme design (Grosvenor, 2004, p.24). This is of interest to the study in terms of semiotics and thinking about what happens when ideas of design excellence/best practice are increased in scale and applied to the real world. Fifthly, the timing of the development proposal and planning stages ran concurrent with urban design and regeneration rising to the top of the UK political and architectural agendas, and urban design itself reaching a whole new level of sophistication (Littlefield, 2009, p.41). Sixthly, given the speed, scale and complexity of change the scheme brought about, this is also of interest – postpolitically – as it raises questions about the challenges this poised for planning’s usual democratic processes. Finally, in a study of how design can aid urban regeneration efforts, Liverpool One makes an interesting research object because it is held up as an exemplar by planners and architects. It received a RTPI national award (2008), which led to the scheme being put forward for a European Laureate award for planning excellence (2010), while the scheme’s masterplan was also nominated for the RIBA Stirling Prize (2009).

Figure 3.2: The pre-development site was brownfield – though not vacant or abandoned (early 2000s). Liverpool One boundary (approximate) marked in red (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Figure 3.3: The finished scheme (http://www.e-architect.co.uk/liverpo...80408_park.jpg)

3.6 The case study strategy Liverpool One is information rich with multiple sources from which to collect data on experiences, processes, opinions, relationships and events. By utilising the multiple sources of data – and different data-collection methods – offered by a case study approach and then interrelating a variety of findings into a single set of conclusions,

64 the quality of the research will ultimately be maximised. Not only will the final results be more reliable, but this approach also represents an explicit attempt to preserve the wholeness, unity and integrity of the case (Punch, 2005, p.144). For this study, the sources of data included plans/documents, reports, peer-reviewed journal articles, print journalism and associated web coverage, and other internet sources such as online communities, and commentators – and also people, through interviews and surveys. By utilising these sources, the study intended to be a disciplined approach to investigating Liverpool One’s scheme design.

3.6.1 Interpretative-historical analysis Interpretative-historical analysis was the first step in the study’s path of inquiry and is presented next, in chapter four. Chapter four aims to give an account of what happened in Liverpool, until this point in time, both in terms of the actual physical site and attitudes towards regeneration/design. A key role of chapter four is providing ‘intertextuality’, that is, providing a social and historical context to contemporary events (Bryman, 2012, p.538). ‘Intertextuality’ recognises that even the interview/survey accounts given by the research participants are shaped intertextually. Their accounts are shaped by events beyond the immediate context, by historical experiences and other circumstances in which they are enmeshed. In this way, chapter four seeks to add layers of understanding to the production of Liverpool One, through providing knowledge of prior events.

A key strength of interpretative-historical research is that its findings are constructed as a follow-able narrative (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.167). As such, chapter four takes an array of social-economic-political factors and brings them into a focus in a linear account. After this point, the line of enquiry can move from historical analysis to contemporary phenomena, as recent events are of the most interest. It is worth noting that another key role of chapter four was – by writing this chapter early in the research – this ensured the researcher was knowledgeable about regeneration in Liverpool before going-on to meet with the interviewees.

Like all data collection techniques, interpretative-historical analysis suffers from certain limitations. It is important to highlight methodological limitations because they can lead to theoretical error and, ultimately, misunderstanding. For interpretative-historical, when faced with an array of complex social-economic- political factors, Groat and Wang (2002, p.146) warn against the danger of oversimplification. In addition, there is also a danger that interpretation and narration can slip into fiction (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.165). For this reason the

65 research utilised reliable secondary sources wherever possible: peer-reviewed journals and published academic books. For more recent history, however, this was not possible and print journalism/online articles were utilised more, but professional and news sites – not, for example, blogs.

3.6.2 Semi-structured interviews Interviews were central to the study’s design, and formed the core of the data- collection methods. Their purpose was to gather information which was not documented elsewhere. Although interviewing can be used for the collection of straightforward factual information, interviewing’s strength lies in dealing with the exploration of more complex and subtle phenomena, whereby interviewing, as a method, is attuned to finding out the intricacies of the subject matter (Denscombe, 1998, pp.173-174). An advantage of interviewing is that the researcher can continue to probe and ask questions until they fully understand the situation. In this way the researcher can achieve a depth of information and, in this respect, the interviewees are regarded as key informants (knowledgeable individuals) giving valuable data. Interviewing is a way to gain a substantial body of information: in this case, people’s accounts of their own personal design-led regeneration experiences.

A semi-structured interview approach was adopted, whereby there was a clear list of issues to be addressed while permitting more open-ended answers and for the interviewee to elaborate on points of interest – which allowed for emerging themes to surface (Denscombe, 1998, p.175). The emphasis was on how the interviewer framed and understood the issues, but the interviewee had leeway in how to reply (Bryman, 2012, p.471). All interviews were one-to-one, utilising an interview guide which provided a framework of specific topics to be explored. In reality, however, the interview guide was referred to as a ‘Discussion Guide’ and the interviews were pitched more as a chat to make the experience feel more relaxed. The questions within the Discussion Guide (appendices three and four) were divided into three sections, which were underpinned by the research’s three key theories: postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities. If new avenues of interest came to light, even though the researcher’s role was to listen and learn, the Discussion Guide was intended to help steer interviewees back towards the topics the researcher needed to cover in order to find answers to the research questions.

Again, like the other data collection techniques, semi-structured interviews suffer from certain limitations. Interviewing is very time intensive, not only arranging,

66 travelling and completing the interviews, but the time spent transcribing the dialogue later. Bryman (2012, p.486) points out, that this can be helped by not transcribing material which the researcher knows is not going to be fruitful, and focusing instead on those portions that are useful or relevant. In addition, as the construction of Liverpool One was completed in 2008, this impacted on interviewing in two ways. Firstly, the issues being explored in the interviews were – with the passage of time – increasingly in the past. Also, since 2008, the interviewees had become a more dispersed group as people had moved-on from Liverpool. As such in some instances, face-to-face interviewing was difficult due to time, travel and costs. For this reason telephone interviewing was utilised for six of the interviews.

In terms of a sampling strategy for recruiting interviewees, as the research was examining a certain phenomenon – the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space – it was important that the same phenomenon was documented through different eyes. Therefore the aim of the sampling strategy was to gain a wide perspective on city centre regeneration/urban design. As such, a broad range of views were sought on the Liverpool One scheme. Approached to be interviewed were potential participants ranging from professionals, specialists and experts – including those members of the public who were, in effect, lay experts – and objectors/commentators. The sampling strategy was based on approaching those felt to have a special contribution to make to the study because they had some unique insight or because of the position they held. Collectively they were a well- informed cross section of people and included planners, urban designers, architect- urban designers, commercial retail developers, regeneration professionals, economic development practitioners, academics, local councillors, journalists, activists, objectors and local commentators – including online commentators.

The interviewees were basically the protagonists for different views. This was one reason participants were assured of their anonymity, to try to capture the flavour of any debates. In this vein, the core empirical chapters of five, six, seven and eight draw on the participants’ competing views, as the study sought to develop a fair and holistic overview of Liverpool One. This involved both acknowledging the abundance of praise of Liverpool One, but also critically analysing the scheme in this way. On this note, Liverpool One has many friends and it proved difficult to find critical voices about the scheme outside of academia. This is the reason why, in the empirical chapters, in order to give competing views of the scheme, the voices of the four academics who were interviewed are heard markedly at times – though these people were more than academics. They spoke also as concerned

67 citizens who tried to follow Liverpool One’s scheme design and development processes at the time and, as such, actually fill two positions.

3.6.3 Online surveys While potential interviewees who were involved in the scheme in some way were relatively straightforward to indentify, largely through searching the internet, the study also sought the views of users of the scheme, or parts of the scheme. This was more problematic. Given the sheer numbers of people using and experiencing Liverpool One every day, only a tiny sample of these users could realistically be contacted by the study. As such, some thought was given to how this might be achieved. For example, if the researcher stood in Liverpool One’s streets and stopped passers-by, this could potentially irritate people. Eventually, a sample of users was recruited through the Liverpool One discussion board found at http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?t=340218. Founded in 2002, SkyscraperCity was originally an online forum for skyscraper enthusiasts, before its remit widened to include many urban-related topics.

It was decided that data would be collected from the members of SkyscraperCity’s Liverpool One discussion board through a social survey. Surveys are useful when trying to measure attitudes and orientations in a large population (Babbie, 2014, p.261). By a ‘social survey’ it is meant gathering information by asking questions from a sample of a specified group of people (Buckingham and Saunders, 2004, p.12). In the same vein as the interviews, the survey participants were viewed as key informants, whereby the study wanted to know about their views of Liverpool One and, as such, the survey questions were open-ended. Given that survey participants were being recruited online, it was decided to utilise an online survey. Moreover, online surveys are particularly appropriate when based around web participation (Babbie, 2014, p.293). This was exactly the case with this study, as it targeted those who visited a particular website. In addition, the appeal of SkyscraperCity’s Liverpool One forum was that it offered a body of people who already chatted publically, but amongst themselves, about a range of design issues at Liverpool One. Without a resource such as SkyscraperCity it would have been time consuming and difficult to identify people willing to chat about the scheme’s design by standing in the streets.

Also, it was hoped that the anonymity of an online survey might encourage more candid responses than interviewing someone in person. This was especially as participants were anonymous from the outset, as SkyscraperCity members use an

68 internet identity in the form of a pseudonym. Their ‘real-world’ identity is not known. The self-administered online survey consisted of nine standardised questions (appendix 5). Given there were only nine questions, compared to 17-19 questions in a semi-structured interview, care was taken to frame the nine questions to gather as much information as possible. In selecting the survey questions from the starting point of the 17-19 interview questions, the deleted questions were those felt to potentially generate the least amount of data.

Again, like all data collection techniques, survey research suffers from certain limitations. Compared to semi-structured interviews, surveys are inflexible, especially online surveys where the researcher is not present should the research participant wish to expand on/raise an issue. In addition, with the participants typing their own responses to questions, these responses were much shorter and more superficial than those gained through the semi-structured interviews. However, the survey responses still contained interesting points and – on balance – it was felt that the internet could be used to conduct meaningful research.

3.6.4 Critical discourse analysis While it has been highlighted that Liverpool One, as a case study scheme, was information rich, the research encountered a problem. At the planning application stage, very few planning committee reports on Liverpool One and very little press coverage could be found. This was unanticipated. When tracing a large planning application, especially an application submitted 16 years ago, these are key sources of information. This meant two things for the research. Firstly, interviews became an even more important source of data. They were necessary to gain factual, in- depth, specialist information about the scheme’s planning and development processes. This is an advantage of interviewing, that it can represent the only viable means of finding out the required information (Bryman, 2012, p.495). Secondly, the study’s initial plan to carry out critical discourse analysis on journalistic writing – a source of information for public consumption – was abandoned.

As a data collection technique, the interest in critical discourse analysis stemmed from the study’s theoretical underpinnings in postpolitics. In critical discourse analysis, discourse is believed to exert power, but without force or coercion. Instead discourse can bring about shifts in ideologies and an acceptance of an ideology without the person even noticing. Attention is paid to the ideological basis of the discourse, which seeks to naturalise and thereby render acceptable a certain

69 stance (Bryman, 2012, p.557). Teo (2000, p.9) explains that, while public policy – say, the retail policy of Liverpool’s Unitary Development Plans (UDP) – can be changed to support a certain position, changing people’s attitudes is more difficult. He argues that changing attitudes is achieved through constant, everyday exposure to discourse that tints our perceptions in a subtle, almost subliminal way. In this way, discourse is a potentially powerful way of achieving the dominance of peoples’ minds. In terms of the critical discourse analysis of text, words are merely a surface, and it is through analysing texts that their political and ideological positions can be revealed.

In this light, the study was initially interested in the potential use of the informational infrastructure around Liverpool One to aid public acceptance of both the scheme design and its development processes. For example, the study wished to see if/how any design controversies had been neutralised/depoliticised through journalistic writing. However, there was barely any text to analyse. Many hours were spent at the microfiche facilities in Liverpool’s Central Library, looking for Liverpool Echo articles about the Liverpool One planning application from its submission in January 2001 until consent was granted in September 2002. Only three articles – and only one planning committee report – could be traced to this period. Furthermore, given that examining microfiche films is open to human error, part way through the study it came to light that NewsBank had been created, and covered Liverpool Echo articles from November 2001 onwards. NewsBank is a website accessible only through libraries for searching for press articles. This made the microfiche redundant to the study and also provided an opportunity to check for human error for the period of November 2001 until consent was granted in September 2002, when both the microfiche and NewsBank could be searched. However, both searches found just one article: on the 26th September 2002. This suggests that the microfiche search was not beset with human error.

The fact the media appeared to be doing so little to orientate the public towards the fact such a major planning application was currently being considered is interesting in itself, as is the lack of planning committee reports, and these will be examined further in chapter six. Additionally, with an interest aroused in critical discourse analysis, an alternative way of incorporating it into the study was while reading the interview transcripts. However, like all data collection techniques, critical discourse analysis suffers from certain limitations. There is a debate around whether critical discourse analysis actually produces valid knowledge. Rather, when critical discourse analysis is used alone, its conclusions may amount only to speculation.

3.7 Alternative data collection methods A case study approach allows for any method of data collection, as long as it is practical and ethical (De Vaus, 2001, p.231). As already highlighted, a case study is like a conceptual container within which the researcher can explore theories and information sources in a multi-method approach to data collection. In this light, given a case study is a multi-method approach, this section seeks to demonstrate an awareness of alternative data collection methods to those selected for the study, with a focus on methods used for critiquing the design of built environments. The alternatives were, namely, observing environmental behaviour, observing physical traces and site analysis. It will become evident as the discussion proceeds that there were a number of reasons they weren’t deemed appropriate for this study.

3.7.1 Observing environmental behaviour Observing environmental behaviour involves, over a period of time, regularly and systematically observing people’s behaviour in a case study setting. The aim is to generate data about the behavioural opportunities which built environments might provide or impinge. Once the behavioural side effects of designs are known, built environments can be better designed in the future (Zeisel, 2006, pp.203-204). At its core, it is about the study of human-environment interactions: observing people, their settings and the relationships between the two. William H. Whyte’s The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces (1980) (Fig.3.4), a study of city spaces and why some worked for people while others did not, is an example of this approach (Whyte, 1980, p.10). Likewise Jane Jacobs’ The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961), in which Jacobs aimed to operationalise her conditions for a vital urban life like mixed use and small blocks, was largely behavioural observations made by Jacobs (Zeisel, 2006, p.193), mainly in her own neighbourhood. Indeed, Jacobs herself describes the study as her own observations, inferences and conclusions (Jacobs, 1961, p.16). However, no matter how much care the researcher takes over their observations, because such an approach relies heavily on the researcher’s own reflections and interpretations, any resultant study could be interpreted as a ‘think piece’. By a think piece it is meant there is too much onus on the researcher’s personal opinion. Despite this, Punter (1999, p.146) felt that Jacobs’ analysis and ideas of rediscovering the street provided a much better basis for formulating design policy and best practice than had previously existed in England. This study however, a PhD, is about considering issues from all perspectives, in order to produce balanced arguments and draw robust conclusions from defensible analysis. This can’t be achieved via personal evaluations. As such,

71 data collection methods which may have led to findings which could be interpreted as ‘think pieces’ were avoided.

Figure 3.4: William H. Whyte observing human-environment interactions (Whyte, 1980, backcover)

For this particular study, however, there were further drawbacks with this approach. Firstly, human-environment interactions include people’s perceptual relationships with a space, but people’s perceptions are not something a researcher can collect through behavioural observation, not without the researcher making assumptions about the way people feel. Environment-behaviour observers may assume that the way they personally feel in a built environment is how everybody feels (Zeisel, 2006, p.193). This criticism could be made of Jacobs’ work. This can be overcome by asking questions, but that would move the research away from being an environment-behaviour study more towards participant observation study, which typically involves behavioural observation followed by gathering further data through interviews with those under observation (Bryman, 2016, p.423). In this light, William Foote Whyte’s Street Corner Society (successfully reissued in 1955) is regarded as a pioneer in participant observation as Whyte actually became involved with the street gang he was observing. Likewise, in Donald Appleyard’s Livable Streets (1981), his observations of three streets and the impact of traffic upon the social behaviour of residents was followed-up by survey work to capture what it was really like to live there. Given this particular study’s interest in capturing a wide range of perspectives and experiences of design-led regeneration, it was

72 decided the most appropriate – core – data collection method was interviewing. This allowed a direct way to find out people’s perceptions.

3.7.2 Observing physical traces An unobtrusive data collection method, observing physical traces involves walking around a built environment, systematically looking at the surroundings for physical traces of previous activity. These traces might be by-products of use, adaptations for use, displays of self and public messages. ‘By-products of use’ might be patterns of wear and tear or desire lines across green spaces or leftovers like cigarette ends. ‘Adaptations for use’ involve changing settings to better support activities, and might be upturned crates used as outdoor seating or adaptive redesigning like screens erected for privacy. ‘Displays of self’ are changes people make to their surroundings, like the personalisation of a shop front or cafe (Fig. 3.5). ‘Public messages’ – the idea that built environments can be used to communicate to the public at large – may be official signs erected by institutions or ‘lost cat’ posters or even artworks which might be perceived to convey a certain social meaning. Broadly speaking, physical traces can be left behind unconsciously, like desire lines, or they may be intentional like the personalisation of a shop front. However, it is also important for physical trace observers to see what is not there: an absence of wear and tear for example. Overall, the aim of observing physical traces is to seek to increase the knowledge of the behavioural effects and side effects of design decisions, to enable future design interventions to make settings better suited to what people actually do – as design decisions can potentially limit behaviour (Zeisel, 2006, p.169).

Figure 3.5: Personalised shopfront in Liverpool One’s Bluecoat Chambers (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2015)

From their physical trace observations, researchers can begin to infer how an environment became to be the way it is, how people actually use the environment, how they feel about their surroundings and generally how that particular environment meets the needs of its users (Zeisel, 2006, p.159). However, for this study, in terms of generating data, observing physical traces shares the same issue as observing human-environment interactions: that, through making assumptions, the researcher might falsely infer intent. Additionally, given the study’s viewpoint that a finished design artefact, such as Liverpool One, cannot not be evaluated without acknowledging the processes which stand behind it, through observing physical traces it is difficult to infer process. In this light, the study’s interest in process means it is not possible for a researcher to visit a finished case study scheme and evaluate its design based on what they personally see and experience.

3.7.3 Site analysis Site analysis is, in short, the visual and functional assessment of a place. In design research, analysis of the urban landscape tends to be synthesized into a series of maps, plans, sketches and reports which suggest some principles for urban design, on which future built forms can be based. A number of highly influential urban design studies are actually forms of site analysis, involving sustained critiques of existing built environments. Robert Venturi’s visual observations in Learning from Las Vegas (1968) – through its form analysis – created a taxonomy of structures, styles and symbolism for contemporary built environments. The townscape work of Gordon Cullen in The Concise Townscape (1961), also used visual observations to develop ideas on how urban elements can be manipulated to achieve a positive impact on human emotions – particularly with a view to combating urban soullessness (Cullen, 1961, pp.8-9). Christopher Alexander, in A Pattern Language (1977), created 253 ‘patterns’ or entities found in the built environment and, like Cullen, sought to come to grips with ideas of achieving place quality and improving liveability, again utilising visual observations to develop ideas.

However, the issue with site analysis is that – again – however careful the researcher’s observations, site analysis studies can still be interpreted as think pieces, which is problematic for a PhD. In academic terms, an issue in researching the design of the built environment is that many innovations in urban design thinking have come about without much formal research (Forsyth, 2007, p.464). For example, Alexander et al. (1977, pp.520-521) states – in a discussion of designing outdoor spaces – that it seems likely that our need for enclosure in an urban outdoor space goes back to our most primitive instincts, that when we

74 encountered an open space, we didn’t want to sit in the middle, exposed and vulnerable to attack, but preferred to sit around the edge. In terms of drawing academically robust conclusions, however, there is no way of interviewing early mankind to ascertain if this is really true.

Another example of an influential study in urbanism which is based on site analysis is Kevin Lynch’s The Image of the City (1960), with its classifications of built environments based on how people form mental maps to understand their surroundings and orientate themselves through the five elements of paths, edges, districts, nodes and landmarks. However Lynch’s study involved both site analysis in the central areas of three American cities, followed by interviews with 60 inhabitants (Lynch, 1960, pp.14-15). This again raises the point that data collection methods which tend towards producing think pieces work best when researchers follow-up with other methods to test their assumptions.

3.7.4 Academic robustness All the studies highlighted in this section were creative work, seeking to extend the knowledge base of the urban design field. They resulted in new ways of understanding cities: introducing concepts which have undoubtedly helped us better understand their complexities. They add up to create a range of interesting work. These are key points to make. However many of the studies illustrate how they suffer shortcomings when judged for academic robustness. Look behind a number of studies which have had a great impact on urban design and they have very little base in research (Forsyth, 2007, p.467). Regardless of this, a wide audience has been persuaded by their ideas and, as such, they have gained their own kind of legitimacy (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.84). In design-related research there is a tendency to accept studies if they seem to make sense: if they seem dependable (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.74). This is how confidence is developed in people like Jacobs and Cullen and others. Their concepts capture what a community of informed people agree is a reality about the design of the built environment. This is a trait of these studies: their ability to represent a wide base of feeling (Groat and Wang, 2002, p.85). However a key reason these alternative data collection methods were not deemed appropriate for this particular study was a tendency to rely on personal interpretations to varying degrees. For this study, in seeking to generate various different perspectives of people’s own personal design- led regeneration experiences, interviews and surveys enable the researcher to build up a much fuller picture of the case.

3.8 Ethics and informed consent Given the study’s focus on establishing a detailed understanding of design-led approaches to development in regenerating city centres, it was anticipated that its research activities would pose a low risk in terms of ethical issues. While the interviews were the aspect of data collection where ethical issues were felt most likely to arise, concerns were tempered by the fact participants were being interviewed solely about their role in, or opinion of, the case study scheme under analysis. However, there was an issue, in terms of safeguarding participant dignity and emotional safety, that during the course of the interviews a number of interviewees who were involved in the development partnership reconnected with memories of stress, burn out and marital breakdown stemming from the scheme’s immense work pressures. A colleague was remembered who had died suddenly soon after the scheme’s completion, while working on a large development in India. Several spoke of their reluctance to become involved in a scheme of Liverpool One’s scale, complexity and speed again, and several others were now managing health issues and spoke of being cautious of over-doing things. Given these people obviously worked exceptionally hard on Liverpool One, despite these recounts of personal loss and costs, they were happy to continue with the interviews.

As with any research involving human participants, there were ethical issues surrounding confidentiality and anonymity, and also transparency and consent. Transparency was achieved by distributing Participant Information Sheets before the interviews/surveys which fully described the project, including the purpose of the research, how data would be used and the final intended outcome of the study. The Participant Information Sheets also introduced the researcher and included a weblink to the researcher’s LinkedIn page, where the researcher’s photograph could be found along with a profile focused on the study. This was intended to start to build trust with potential participants. The last page of the Participant Information Sheet was a Consent Form. Informed consent was obtained from every participant. Copies of the Participant Information Sheets and the Consent Form are found in appendices one and two.

Making use of an existing online community – SkyscraperCity – also raised a number of ethical issues. It was not possible for the researcher to be certain who was participating in the online study. A participant could have been a child, for example, and the University of Manchester ethical approval had not been sought for involving participants under 18 years old. There were also online issues around

76 ensuring informed consent was being obtained. As such, the first question of the online survey was given-over to ethics. It stated: “By typing 'I agree' in the text box below you are confirming that you’re at least 18 years old, that you’ve read and understood the Participant Information Sheet and that by completing this online survey, you agree to participate (anonymously) in this research”. Before agreeing, and before even accessing the survey, Participant Information Sheets were embedded within SkyscraperCity private messages and sent to the survey participants to enable informed consent.

In addition, the University of Manchester Ethics Committee approved the study in June 2014, which covered a number of university regulations to which the study had to adhere, including practical measures to ensure confidentiality, compliance with the Data Protection Act and reporting arrangements should any adverse event occur.

3.9 Recruiting, first contacts and interviews With the University of Manchester ethical approval in place, the first contact with potential interviewees was via letter or email, which also – like the Participant Information Sheet – included a weblink to the researcher’s LinkedIn profile. Forty people were approached. Twenty eight agreed to be interviewed, six declined, four never responded and two letters were returned – undelivered – by the Royal Mail, after which point these potential interviewees proved impossible to trace. Of those who declined, all three scheme architects who were approached said ‘no’, plus one economic development practitioner and one councillor. In addition, one activist declined because they were strongly against anonymity and felt that those involved in perceived shortcomings of the Liverpool One development process should be named in the study. No reply came from four people, including one councillor and two objector/commentators and one professional. Of the two undelivered, returned letters it was disappointing that the two potential interviewees who proved impossible to trace had both ran businesses within the pre-redevelopment site and had both been displaced by the scheme. Their views on design-led regeneration would have been valuable. However several interviewees had previously worked in various premises around the pre-redevelopment site and could share insights into displacement. While gender was not part of the sampling strategy, it is worth noting that of the 28 interviews, only five were women (while, judging purely by pseudonyms, no online survey participants appeared to be female).

The interviews were carried out from December 2014 to November 2015. The online surveys were largely collected during February/March 2015. The interviews were, with the interviewee’s permission, audio recorded on two devices – should one malfunction – and were largely conducted in cafes and workplaces in Liverpool city centre. As already highlighted, six interviews took place over the phone because the person was no longer Liverpool-based, or just too busy to meet in person. The telephone interviews were audio recorded by setting the phone to speaker mode, and then having the two recording devices sat next to the phone. The six telephone interviewees were emailed the Participant Information Sheet beforehand, along with any visual aids/prompts that would aid the interview, and either emailed or posted the Consent Form for completion/return – whichever worked best for them.

The interviews were intended to last 60 minutes. While the phone interviews tended to run to time, the interviews which took place in person generally took longer. All interviewees – and online survey participants – were given the questions, the Discussion Guide, beforehand. Given the focus of the study was urban design, visual aids/prompts were necessary for some questions. The Discussion Guide was divided into three sections, with interview questions based around the study’s theoretical foundations of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities. In this light, while finalising the interview questions, the formulation of a chapter matrix proved very useful, by ensuring enough questions were asked under each theory heading to generate enough data for later analysis.

3.10 Accessing an online community At SkyscraperCity, the Liverpool One forum’s most prolific members were approached, in terms of their numbers of posts, as well as those who had posted during 2014, to ensure that current and active users were prioritised. In addition, though not every member gave their location, Liverpool-based members were given preference, to increase the likelihood that they were regularly visiting the scheme. While the main advantage of utilising SkyscraperCity was the relative ease with which it enabled recruitment, it was not a straightforward process. While the Liverpool One discussion board is publically available, SkyscraperCity only enables registered members to directly contact other registered members, and then only after they have posted a minimum of 10 of their own posts. As such, the researcher first registered to SkyscraperCity and then posted 10 posts, each about the study. These included more recent site history from chapter four and were intended to warm potential participants to the study. The weblink to researcher’s

LinkedIn page was also posted, as before to start building trust with potential participants. This was especially important given SkyscraperCity’s use of pseudonyms and the fact the researcher did not want to act anonymously, but maintain openness and transparency instead. However anonymity was guaranteed to those who agreed to complete the online survey, so they knew they could enjoy the same absolute anonymity as chatting online at SkyscraperCity.

With 10 posts in place, the researcher could send private messages via SkyscraperCity to Liverpool One forum members inviting them to participate in the online survey. If they agreed, after receiving the Participant Information Sheet, they were sent another private message with an embedded weblink which led the survey – which resided in Survey Monkey (appendix 5). Founded in 1999, Survey Monkey is an online survey company which provides customizable surveys of up to 10 questions free of charge. Beyond this there is a suite of more sophisticated programs which charge money. While the study’s survey was 10 questions, because the first question was given-over to ethics, this left nine questions directly asking about Liverpool One itself.

The private messaging approach was chosen to avoid undue intrusion into the online world of the Liverpool One forum. It was preferable to, say, posting messages on the Liverpool One discussion board and then gathering any responses. This would have also poised ethical problems in terms of obtaining informed consent from participants. As such, an online survey was intended to respect the discussion board, while allowing its members the opportunity freely express their views the written form, which they already clearly enjoyed doing online at SkyscraperCity.

Fifty five Liverpool One forum members were sent private messages inviting them to participate, and 10 agreed, though the sample was intended to be 20 people – a size felt to be large enough to obtain an adequate amount of data. From the 10 completed online surveys, however, it was apparent that the views expressed on the scheme design were similar in range to those expressed through the semi- structured interviews. In this way, the online surveys were complementary to the interviews, suggesting that an accurate range of perspectives was being drawn from all participants, both online and via interviews.

In order to carry out an online survey, four websites were utilised. As such, four online accounts had to be created, all of which were free of charge. A

SkyscraperCity account was necessary for the recruitment of participants, LinkedIn for providing more information/trust building, Survey Monkey for the actual online survey itself and Flickr for those online survey questions requiring visual aids/prompts (Fig 3.4). A weblink to Flickr was embedded into the relevant survey questions. Given the amount of set-up required to collect 10 completed surveys, this was not a quick and easy way of collecting data. It could be argued it would have been quicker and easier to stand in the street and recruit participants. Furthermore, it was unfortunate that only 10 responses were received because online surveys offer the potential to collect a large number of responses. However, the online surveys did give insights into the views of scheme users, so – despite these issues – they did fulfil their purpose in the data collection process. Plus, these are responses which don’t require later transcription time as they are already typed.

Figure 3.6: Visual aids accompanied the online survey on Flickr

3.11 Organisation and analysis of the collected data All the interviews were transcribed, which was very time consuming, although the process was speeded-up by using Dragon Naturally Speaking (Version 12) speech recognition software. As Dragon had been trained to only recognise one voice – the researcher’s – the researcher would listen to a slowed-down version of an interview through head phones and speak out what the interviewee was saying. Dragon was very good, and could be trained to recognise almost all words used in the research, with a few exceptions. For example, Dragon stubbornly insisted that ‘aesthetics’ was ‘athletics’ and hedonistic was ‘head on a stick’. Once transcribed into Word documents, the interviews were uploaded into NVivo 10, a computer software package designed for qualitative researchers working with text-based information. Likewise, the online survey responses were copied from Survey Monkey into Word documents and then these too, were uploaded into NVivo. In this way, all the raw

80 data from the interviews and surveys were together in NVivo ready for analysis. By ‘raw’ it is meant untouched by the researcher.

The next step was to make sense of the accumulated information. It was intended that analysis would involve three concurrent flows of activity: i) data reduction, ii) data display (graphs, tables, charts...) and iii) drawing conclusions (Miles and Huberman, 1984, p.21). In reality, data displays were hardly used in the study. Given the nature of the study, tables seemed the most appropriate form of data display. However most times, when a table was formulated it became apparent that it was clearer to write the findings in a paragraph instead. In this light, analysis focused on data reduction. Data reduction refers to the process of selecting, focusing, simplifying, abstracting and transforming raw data.

For text-based data, data reduction involves the processes of teasing out codes and concepts and making categories. To this end, a thematic coding framework was created in NVivo. A thematic coding framework is intended to take large quantities of raw data and organise, sharpen and discard it (Miles and Huberman, 1984, p.21). Given that, from the outset, the theoretical framework was to provide the structure – the scaffolding – for the study, the thematic coding framework’s key headings were postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities. However, while NVivo helped organise data under these headings, the codes, concepts and categories themselves were developed inductively through engagement with the interview/survey texts (Denscombe, 1998, p.285). Careful reading, not NVivo, established them. Once in a more manageable form, the data was further reduced in the actual writing of the empirical chapters through focusing and summarising, and then drawing conclusions.

3.12 Conclusion This chapter has explained the research design behind this mixed qualitative methods study, which largely centred around people’s accounts of their own personal design-led regeneration experiences. The accounts were generated through interviews and surveys, but the first step of the inquiry was interpretative- historical analysis to provide a social/historical context to the contemporary events discussed by the research participants. Additionally, the study was influenced throughout by critical discourse analysis. The chapter has also set out the justification for the research design, including the importance of interviews in gaining factual information given the availability of less written materials than anticipated. The approach taken to structuring and analysing the data, and

81 ultimately drawing conclusions was also detailed – highlighting that the thematic coding framework which guided the data analysis was theoretically informed by postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities.

The perspectives expressed throughout the core empirical chapters stem from the 28 interviewees who agreed to take part in the research, unless otherwise specified. If a response came from the additional 10 online survey participants, this will be highlighted. Having explained how the data for the study was generated and analysed, next the research will examine how the land collectively redeveloped as Liverpool One emerged.

Chapter Four How the scene was set for Liverpool One

“They should put a fence round Liverpool and charge admission, for unfortunately it has become a showcase for all that has gone wrong in Britain’s cities” (Daily Mirror, 11 October 1982, cited in Murden, 2006, p.394)

4.1 Introduction When Liverpool City Council’s Paradise Street Development Area (an earlier name for Liverpool One) Compulsory Purchase Order (2003) went before the then First Secretary of State (the Deputy Prime Minister, John Prescott) for determination, the Order was granted, taking “the view that organic piecemeal development over the years has failed to stem the decline of Liverpool” (ODPM, 2004). The Order continued that, therefore, the compulsory acquisition of 42.5 acres of land was necessary to secure successful regeneration. In light of this firm view, and given this study examines a retail scheme as a driver for regeneration, this chapter lays out evolving attitudes to urban regeneration in Liverpool, set against the city’s changing economic-political context. There is a particular interest in the 1930s to the more present day, as during this time Liverpool has been a laboratory for almost every experiment and innovation in modern urban policy and planning (Couch, 2003, p.3). It is against this backdrop that this chapter seeks to contextualise the case study scheme. Chiming with the postpolitical idea that contemporary local governance has been reduced to the management of the local consequences of global capitalism, the chapter surveys Liverpool’s key attempts at its regeneration in response to the flows of western global capital through its mercantile, industrial, post-industrial and urban renaissance eras. The chapter also traces how the land collectively redeveloped as Liverpool One emerged. For clarity, where the focus is narrowed in this way, site-specific context is presented within individual text boxes running concurrent to the overall historical overview.

4.2 Early success: 1700/1800s to the First World War “The history of Liverpool makes for a distinctive and tumultuous urban story” (Sykes et al., 2013, p.315). It sees over three centuries, extremes of both prosperity and decline. Its early success stemmed from its function as a port. Operating from riverside wharfs along the Mersey, Liverpool merchants traded along Britain’s coast and with Ireland, and then with the Americas from the 1600s. However the anchored ships struggled with the Mersey’s strong winds and loading/unloading cargo around its huge tidal range. Therefore in 1715 the

83 merchants who controlled the Liverpool Corporation, the forerunner to what became Liverpool City Council in 1974, took the financial risk of converting an inland tidal creek – believed to be the original ‘Liver Pool’ – into the world’s first commercial, enclosed, wet dock (Fig 4.1). The dock was a great success and further interconnected enclosed docks were added, extending 7.5 miles along the Mersey and forming the most advanced port system in the world. It would grow to enclose 500 acres of water bounded by 80 miles of quayside (Hatton, 2008). Today, parts of the system are within the UNESCO Maritime Mercantile City World Heritage Site.

Figure 4.1: John Eyres’ map of Liverpool c1765. Shows the original 1715 dock, with the Liverpool One boundary overlaid (Taylor and Davenport, 2009, p.9)

1715 until the outbreak of the Second World War The original 1715 dock – and thus the site of the original ‘Liver Pool’ – lies under the Liverpool One development. As part of the development, the 1715 dock was partially excavated in 2001, having been filled-in to create more available building land in the city centre in 1827. A pavement window enables passers-by to peer down into it. Also relevant from this era is that, historically, the high demand for commercial space as close to the docks as possible led to the multi-storey, floorspace-maximising designs of the city centre warehouses (Littlefield, 2009, p.23) – of which two College Lane warehouses were retained and refurbished as part of the scheme (Fig 4.2 and 4.3). As was America’s former consulate on Paradise Street, the first in the world, complete with its American Eagle (Fig 7.8, chpt 7). The site also includes the city centre’s oldest surviving building, the Bluecoat Chambers (1716-1718) (Fig 4.4), now a centre for the contemporary arts. Generally speaking, however, there are few surviving buildings from this era

84 because the 1715 dock brought significant commerce-led growth and old buildings were regularly swept away to accommodate progress (Sharples, 2004, p.3).

Figure 4.2: College Lane warehouses pre- Figure 4.3: College Lane warehouses, 2017 development, 2005 (Photographer: Joe (Photographer: V. Lawson) McCoughlin, Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Figure 4.4: Bluecoat Chambers (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

4.3 Mercantilism As a major port, Liverpool was very much advantaged through the economic- political system of mercantilism. Also known as the ‘old’ international division of labour, this was the colonial system of raw material production in the periphery and manufacturing production in the core of the British Empire, as there was far more money in selling manufactured goods than selling raw materials. To ensure the full mercantilist potential of the colonies, they then served as markets for the manufactured exports. Liverpool was very much a colonial ‘world city’, acting as a central hub handling imported raw materials and exported manufactured goods – with the Atlantic on one side and, on the other, the growing industrial towns of the North West, with their revolutionary manufacturing processes.

As a modern, mercantile city, Liverpool’s wealth was manifested physically in innovative urban infrastructure, pioneering the world’s first intercity railway (with Manchester, 1830) and municipal park (Birkenhead Park, 1847), as well as early expressions of underground, overhead and underwater metro systems, electric tram networks, sewers, technical schools and fresh water supplies (Sykes et al., 2013, pp.305-306). This massive infrastructure investment was supported by the strong municipal government, the Liverpool Corporation – a governing merchant elite – and stimulated yet further growth in trade. The wealth generated in Liverpool was reflected in the fine public buildings which still punctuate the city centre streets – St George’s Hall, for example. In addition, in the city centre, there are many private commercial buildings designed to convey the powerful message that Liverpool was a place where serious money could be made (Stonard, 2010, p.5). However away from the main commercial thoroughfares squalid housing conditions were widespread and Liverpool was frequently a city of causal, poorly paid work and bad health (Couch, 2003; Sharples, 2004) (Fig 4.5).

Figure 4.5: Medical Officer measuring the width of passageways, 1907

(Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

The general good fortunes of the city were shattered by The First World War (1914- 1918). Although it left the British Empire larger than ever, the underlying reality was that Britain could no longer afford to defend it, due to the great expense of the war. Thus began a period of retraction abroad, the beginning of the end of the empire and the subsequent breakdown of mercantilism which had benefitted Liverpool so much.

4.4 The interwar years: the start of the industrial era In addition to the breakdown of mercantilism, America’s Wall Street Crash (1929) affected Liverpool badly. Problems were exacerbated by the decline in industry in Liverpool’s hinterland from the 1930s, especially cotton. Yet it was also during this period that the 1931 census was to record a population peak of 855,000 for Liverpool, which probably rose to 870,000 the following year (Belchem, 2006b, p.516). From this population peak, however, “would begin a process of economic and population decline which would last until the turn of the millennium, seventy years later” (Rink et al., 2012, p.168). For the study, the real story starts here.

With its trading links globally and domestically struggling, it became apparent that the city was too dependent on the port. In response, urban entrepreneurialism got off to an early start in Liverpool (Belchem, 2006a; Meegan, 2003; Sykes et al., 2013). With a keen interest in municipal enterprise, in 1933, to hedge against the further decline of the port, the Liverpool Corporation constructed three runways at an aerodrome at Speke – now Liverpool John Lennon Airport. Then, to help diversify Liverpool’s economic base, in 1936 Parliament granted the Liverpool Corporation new, unprecedented powers of land development and industrial promotion. This enabled the Liverpool Corporation to build industrial estates with factories for sale/lease, adjacent to new homes for workers. However, a key point to make is that these estates were on the peripheries of the city to benefit from proximity to the main road network and cheap land for expansion – compared to the high central city prices for commercial space close the port. Then, with the outbreak of the Second World War (1939-1945) there was no choice but to build some military-related factories – munitions, for example – on the peripheries of the city in order to minimise the danger from explosions (Fig 4.6). As such, in the 1930s, Liverpool began the process of turning the city ‘inside out’ through de- population and de-industrialisation which would continue until the 1970s (Meegan, 2003, p.57). This, ultimately, led to the hollowing out of the urban core.

Figure 4.6: Munitions factory (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

However, the city centre was also active during the Second World War. It provided a control centre for the Battle of the Atlantic: the protracted struggle by the Allies to secure shipping routes across the Atlantic. This meant the docks were busy again with convoys carrying essential war supplies. However, because of its importance in the war effort, Liverpool was the most heavily bombed area of the country outside of London. The Liverpool Blitz – a series of air raids from 1940- 1942 – killed almost 4,000 people, left 3,500 seriously injured and made over 70,000 people homeless (Belchem, 2006a, p.516) (Fig 4.7 and 4.8).

Figure 4.7: Looking from Derby Square towards the Liverpool One site (Sharples and Stonard, 2008, p.76).

Figure 4.8: Much of the Liverpool One site was bombed during the war. Liverpool One boundary (approximate) marked in red (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

The Second World War While commerce-led, piecemeal rebuilding continued on the Liverpool One site through into the 1930s, the outbreak of the Second World War not only ended any construction works, but – given its proximity to the docks – led to much of the Liverpool One site being razed by bombing.

The site’s most significant architectural causality was the massive 1839 Custom House which, until the monumentalisation of the Pier Head through the building of the Three Graces, was the civic focus of the port (Hatton, 2008). The Custom House dominated Canning Place, which was created in 1827 by infilling the original 1715 dock and was once the centre of Georgian Liverpool. Damaged but reparable, the Custom House was demolished in 1948 to generate short term employment, while the grand boulevard which led from Canning Place (now the site of the new bus station) to the Town Hall was erased from the map (Fig 4.9).

Figure 4.9: The area pre-war, 1930s. Note the emergence of new, larger scale office buildings to the right of the Town Hall. Liverpool One boundary (approximate) in red (Stonard, 2010, p.7)

4.5 Immediate post-war: The Shennan Plan The 1947 Town Planning Act laid the foundations of modern town and country planning in the UK, by requiring that local governments prepare a comprehensive development plan to guide their future. As such the City Centre Plan (1947) – or the Shennan Plan as it was known – which had initially surfaced soon after the Liverpool Blitz – was brought out again, polished up and extended, with a vast model that was exhibited to the public. “Liverpool was to be Europeanised” (Dunster, 2008) (Fig 4.10) – with a grand and formal vision for the rebuilding of the city centre, including the Liverpool One site, of large Beaux-Arts blocks set in an extensive new network of spacious boulevards and purpose built precincts, all girded by an inner ring road (Fig 4.11). However, the Shennan Plan was never implemented. The Liverpool Corporation missed out on central government’s financial aid for post-war reconstruction which other cities received – enabling, for example, Coventry and Plymouth to reconstruct with Modernist plans.

Figure 4.10: The Shennan Plan cover. Figure 4.11: The Shennan Plan. Liverpool Liverpool was to be Europeanised (Stonard, One boundary (approximate) in red 2010, p.9) (Stonard, 2010, p.9)

4.6 Post-war regeneration until 1970 Like many British cities, the immediate priority in Liverpool post-war was replacing homes and repairing infrastructure – and also industrialisation. Due to the decline in dock activities, there was a great belief in diversifying the city’s economy into manufacturing, and although Liverpool had initially missed out on financial aid for post-war reconstruction, by 1949 help did come when central government scheduled Liverpool as a Development Area (Belchem, 2006a; Couch, 2003; Murden, 2006). This regional aid was intended to help the regions reorganise their economies for peaceful production rather than the needs of war, and to direct expanding industries into areas struggling with unemployment (Fig 4.12 and 4.13). During the 1950s firms received various forms of subsidy to encourage them to invest Liverpool, but – as in the 1930s – the new industrial investment was to be found in a peripheral arc around Liverpool and was again strategically combined with new housing. This approach sought address central Liverpool’s long-standing problem with over-crowding, ‘slum’ housing and bad health and basically continued the process of hollowing out the urban core which had started before the war.

Figure 4.12: Industrial opportunities in Figure 4.13: City Engineers’ advert Liverpool, 1954 (Courtesy of the Liverpool promoting Liverpool’s resources (no Record Office, Liverpool Libraries) date) (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

The hollowing out was exacerbated by the fact much of the peripheral development was due to the arrival of smaller firms from the older, inner areas of Liverpool and not from outside the region, as anticipated. These firms had been displaced by wartime damage/clearance and from new urban renewal policies, stemming from the 1947 planning act, which sought to separate noxious industries – tanneries, for instance – from residential areas (Healey and Shaw, 1993, p.21). This again made the periphery the obvious place for relocation, leaving the central city a place of economic uncertainty. The periphery also appealed because, through until the mid- 1960s, the city centre still seemed very built-up with a lack of room for expansion on existing sites. Most of the docklands were still operational, railway goods yards were still in use, large manufacturing firms and energy suppliers [town gas works and older, urban coal-fired electricity power stations, which historically located close to where the energy was needed] were still major land users (Couch, 2003, p.18) (Fig 4.14). As such, not only could the periphery offer newly built premises to modern specifications, but it was thought to be the only place a business could expand. Again, all this contributed to the hollowing out of central Liverpool.

Figure 4.14: The central city was very built-up, 1930s (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Despite these issues, central government’s 1950s regional policies did genuinely bring new industries and prosperity to Liverpool. This continued into the 1960s when Liverpool gained Development District status (1960), another redistributive regional policy which incentivised growth industries like car manufacturing to locate to less prosperous areas of the country (Belchem, 2006a; Sykes et al., 2013). The car plants, in combination with a post-war, reconstruction-fuelled economic boom for Britain’s manufactured goods – and thus Liverpool’s port – meant from the mid- 1950s until the mid-1960s, Liverpool enjoyed a significant economic revival. It was a “Golden Age” (Meegan, 2003, p.58). This turned out to be only temporary and collapsed thereafter, leading to “the dark decades between 1970 and the millennium” (Dunster, 2008).

The 1960s

Liverpool City Plan (1965): The Shankland Plan With the focus immediately post-war on housing, infrastructure and industrialisation, it took until the 1960s for attention to turn to the city centre. By this point, Liverpool was enjoying both its Golden Age and its new status as a city internationally renowned for its culture. Energised by the Merseybeat music scene, especially the Beatles, the city displayed a new civic confidence (Murden, 2006, p.394). As such, the scene was set for the “headily upbeat” Liverpool City Plan of 1965 (Sharples 2004, p. 36) – also known as the Shankland Plan.

The “total problem” of Liverpool city centre was assessed, and the main issue was identified as its mainly 1800s roads and buildings that had been changed only fitfully and by piecemeal, uncoordinated actions (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, p.53). It was a city centre designed for the days of the horse and cart, the steamships and the heyday of cotton and coal – and this, in turn, was now driving away potential investment, skills and initiative. Changes would have to be made. As such, the Liverpool Corporation proposed that two-thirds of the city centre should be comprehensively redeveloped to create a new and attractive urban environment (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, p.2).

Designated as an ‘action area’ within the Shankland Plan was the 19.7 acre Strand- Paradise district, which stood on roughly half of what eventually became the Liverpool One site. The district was to include a new city centre community housed in a traffic-free precinct of 800 dwellings in five towers overlooking the first central city park: the Strand-Paradise Park (later Chavasse Park) (Fig 4.15 and 4.16). The park was to also serve the needs of nearby office workers and provide magnificent views over the Mersey. Given the past efforts of decanting the population out of central Liverpool, this represented a first major step towards attracting back to the city centre small households and students and other people who worked there (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, p.122).

The Shankland Plan was to be a major public, private or jointly funded venture, but in reality there was no venture at all. The plan was based on the premise of a twenty per cent growth in population by 1981, along with increasing prosperity (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, p.53) – including the growth of the port. However, there was to be no burgeoning population and no prosperity. Liverpool did not continue to grow. In fact its population fell sharply. The uncertainty over the future direction of the city held back potential investment, and the money was not available to implement the Shankland Plan. However, a great deal of clearance work was undertaken to make way for roads and buildings which, in turn, contributed to the substantial amount of vacant and derelict land in the city centre by the 1970s (Couch, 2003, p.19).

Meanwhile, some structures were completed in accordance with the Shankland Plan. For example the enclosed city centre mall, St John’s Precinct (hereafter referred to as St John’s), and parts of the proposed inner motorway, such as ‘The Strand’ (Strand Street). The Strand-Paradise district was only partially

‘redeveloped’ with the construction of a multi-storey car park/bus station (Fig 4.17), two office buildings (Steers House and Foster House), a hotel (the bunker- like Moat House Hotel) (Fig 4.18) and a fire station (Fig 4.19). Plus an area was grassed over to create Chavasse Park, which – while reconfigured – is the Strand- Paradise district’s only survivor post Liverpool One. Just as the Shankland Plan wished to sweep away much of the physical fabric of the 1800s, in developing Liverpool One it was concluded that these individual buildings were themselves “mistakes” in need of reversal through demolition (Littlefield, 2009, p.29).

Figure 4.15: The Shankland Plan. The relevant section of Liverpool One is highlighted in red (approximate) (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, pp.88-89)

Figure 4.16: Strand-Paradise Park, later Chavasse Park - to the left of the tower blocks (City and County Borough of Liverpool, 1965, p.126)

Figure 4.17: The multi-storey car park/bus station, 2005 (Photographer: Wal Riley, http://www.skyscrapercity.com/showthread.php?p=141622794)

Figure 4.18: The Moat House Hotel, 2005 (Photographer: Joe McCoughlin, Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Figure 4.19: Fire station (https://asenseofplace.com/2013/12/12/the-paradise-project/)

4.7 The 1970s: the post-industrial era While the course of 1900s saw the breakdown of the colonial economic system which had so benefitted Liverpool, the city’s situation worsened after 1970 (Wilks- Heeg, 2003, p.39). Newly emerging patterns of global trade led to the ‘new’ international division of labour. Companies began searching for the cheapest locations for their manufacturing processes – especially the low-cost, labour- intensive parts. Production was relocated to developing countries. With their substantially lower costs than advanced economies like the UK’s, this global structural change saw the demise of Britain’s manufacturing base during the 1970s and 1980s.

This adversely impacted Liverpool due to its diversification into manufacturing over the 1950/60s which had created an over-dependence upon this sector. Plus, by the time all the investment in manufacturing came to fruition, the era of de- industrialisation had arrived (Munck, 2003; Rink at al., 2012). Furthermore Liverpool was particularly vulnerable to factory closures as, in response to the incentives on offer, it tended to be branch plants of nationals/transnationals who had located to the area. The result was “branch plant prosperity” (Belchem, 2006a, p.52). This approach failed catastrophically when, with no particular attachment to Liverpool, once development aid and other short-term incentives were exhausted,

97 the nationals/transnationals were apt to close their Liverpool plants and move on (Belchem, 2006a, p.52). At the same time, labour-saving technological changes in industrial production meant Liverpool’s remaining factories had a reduced need for manpower, while any increased productivity was jobless growth (Meegan, 2003, p.59). Similarly, in the shipping sector, from the 1960s, the increasing mechanisation of cargo handling led a smaller workforce at the docks. Processing became quicker too, and the faster turnaround of ships impacted on the trading environment of the city centre as fewer and fewer ship crews had time to leave the port to spend their money (Murden, 2006, p.431).

Most of the docks closed in 1971, though Seaforth Dock opened in 1972 to accommodate container shipping and the increased the size of ships – to keep the port alive. The docks further suffered because Liverpool’s manufacturing hinterland, through de-industrialisation, descended into “a rust-belt of vacant cotton mills, declining coal fields and stagnant canals” (Skyes et al., 2013, p.307). This meant an ever falling demand in the import/export trade for the docks. Problems were compounded by Britain’s entry into European Economic Community as a fully-fledged member in 1973. This move saw European trade becoming more important while Atlantic trade declined, leaving Liverpool uncompetitive, on the wrong side of the country. At the same time, the national spatial division of labour was pulling the locus of economic activity away from the north and north-west towards the midlands and south-east (Meegan, 2003, p.55). While outside the control of the city and its people, these external economic conditions disadvantaged Liverpool, resulting in its seemingly unstoppable decline.

In addition to these external conditions, Liverpool began to suffer from two major self-inflicted public policy mistakes. First was the city’s failure to anticipate the importance of the city’s sizeable ‘higher order’ service sector in future economic growth (Couch, 2003; Evans, 2003; Wilks-Heeg, 2003). Yet historically Liverpool had a significant port-related business services sector of insurance, banking, finance, legal and shipping companies that operated across the globe. Now part of the UNESCO Maritime Mercantile City World Heritage Site, the fine office buildings of Liverpool’s historic ‘downtown’ central business district stand as a testament to this. However, by the mid-1970s, at a point when Western economies were shifting towards the service sector to help offset the demise of traditional manufacturing Liverpool made no attempt to build on its strengths.

Second was the hollowing out of the city from the 1930s onwards, relocating commercial enterprises and thousands of its active workforce to the peripheries, while at the same time failing to create new industrial space within the city (Couch, 2003; Evans, 2003; Rink et al., 2012; Sykes et al., 2013). The planned ‘overspill’ clearance of some 200,000 people into peripheral municipal housing put them beyond the reach of Liverpool’s local tax base, leaving the city without sufficient wealth-creating residents and businesses – a situation exacerbated by the wealthier population moving to the suburbs from the 1960s, working yet more residents towards the edges. With the falling population, falling densities also made the provision of local community services and commercial activity more difficult to achieve. What is today regarded as the process of ‘inner city’ decline – the economic and social decay of the central areas and the associated deteriorating urban environments – had begun.

With the withdrawal of central government investment and the lack of income through rising unemployment, the urban environment deteriorated rapidly. Whereas in the 1960s the appearance of great swathes of vacant and derelict land in the central city had yet to happen, by the 1970s a substantial amount of such land had appeared (Couch, 2003, pp.18-19). Much of this land was unsuitable for immediate redevelopment by reason of location, access, size, configuration, contamination or the presence of deteriorating structures. Dereliction came to characterise parts of the central city and the pervasive atmosphere of decay became a discouragement to new investment.

By the 1970s urban problems were being defined as the problems of the ‘inner city’: typically defined as areas of poor housing, high unemployment, unstable communities and social problems (Cowan, 2005, p.196). In response to the deteriorating ‘inner city’ situation of the 1970s, a regeneration agenda emerged (Couch, 2003, p.4). Planning policies were to no longer seek dispersal. Instead the Labour central government refocused urban policy on what it could achieve for the inner cities (Cowan, 2005, p.197). The result was the Inner Urban Areas Act (1978) which promoted urban regeneration through a central-local government partnership model. Through the Act there was to be a redirection of funding towards hard-pressed inner city authorities at a time when – due to the deep recession of the 1970s – there had been swingeing cuts in public spending (Couch, 2003, p.7).

4.8 The 1980s The Inner Urban Areas Act was swamped in its efforts by the severity of the recession which hit Liverpool (Biddulph, 2011, p.72). Between 1979 and 1981 the city’s rate of job losses accelerated to a frightening level, especially among the black community, and the frustration and anger led to the Toxteth Riots in July 1981 (Biddulph, 2011; Murden, 2006; Sykes et al., 2013). As a result, central government, fearful of the threat to public order, recognised the need to further address the scale of economic and social deprivation in what had become Britain’s poorest city.

4.8.1 Merseyside Development Corporation Already – shortly before the riots – Margaret Thatcher's Conservative government (1979-1990) had established the Merseyside Development Corporation (MDC) (1981-1998), one of the first two Urban Development Corporations (UDCs) in the country. Led by the then Secretary of State for the Environment, Michael Heseltine, the MDC was a single-minded development agency for the large-scale regeneration of designated areas of the central city, including former docklands. Moving swiftly away from the central-local government partnership model of 1978’s Inner Urban Areas Act, this new partnership model relied on central government working directly with the private sector to deliver regeneration. Private finance and market forces would be the “saviours of the city” (Evans, 2003, p.33). In a strongly property-led approach, private investment would be encouraged by opening up inner-city property markets through the release of derelict land for industry, retail and residential uses. In order to achieve this, UDCs were given large tracts of land previously owned by local authorities and statutory undertakers (Fig 4.20). In addition, UDCs were given the power to grant planning permission in their designated areas. Furthermore, UDCs were non-elected and their boards were independent of local government. They were accountable solely to central government. In these ways the MDC allowed central government to controversially wrestle land and planning controls from Liverpool’s local government, and channel funding directly to forms of development which it could endorse (Biddulph, 2011, p.72). The MDC was central government’s direct conduit into Liverpool. They were an early example of the “bespoke structures of governance” (Allmendinger and Haughton, 2010, p.812) which enabled planning to support a growth agenda.

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Figure 4.19: UDCs were given land previously owned by local authorities and statutory undertakers (Base plan: Couch et al., 2003, p.36)

In response, in its defence, it was argued that the mechanism of the MDC could work quickly and efficiently, as Thatcherite opinion was that local authorities were slow and inefficient and part of the problem of decline. Furthermore central government felt Liverpool City Council were incapable of responding to the scale of problems the city was facing (Murden, 2006, p.438). Not only this, but central government felt private sector dynamism – with its pro-business style of working – was essential to regeneration efforts.

4.8.2 Merseyside Task Force However, the MDC initially struggled with the essential part of its market-orientated approach: attracting inward private funding, due to the fragility of the local economy (Murden, 2006, p.445). Nobody wanted to invest in Liverpool. Therefore, as a result of the riots, another new initiative was launched in October 1981: the Merseyside Task Force (MTF). The MTF had a remit to devise innovative strategies to turn around Liverpool’s long-term inner-city problems – again with a focus of encouraging private investment. The MTF dramatically changed the fortunes of the struggling MDC by encouraging an approach to regeneration based more on tourism, leisure and tertiary employment (Murden, 2006, p.445). The logic was that the benefits accrued from growth in these areas would “trickle down” to more marginalised and impoverished areas of the city (Evans, 2003, p.33).

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4.8.3 The Militants Inward investors were also deterred by Liverpool’s political instability and poor image (Meegan, 2003; Murden, 2006). In the decade leading to 1983, there was an unstable hung council with no party in overall control, which failed to face key issues and avoided difficult decisions, causing confusion and delay and drift. The situation changed dramatically from 1983 to 1986 however, when a hard left faction controlled the city council. This was the “dismal Militant period” (Munck, 2003, p.14). The Militants endorsed a very different approach to regeneration than central government, with their own urban regeneration strategy focused on municipal employment and the renovation/rebuilding of the municipal housing stock. Yet this was at a time Thatcher’s government was seeking to restrain public spending and encourage a less interventionist role for local government (Meegan, 2003, p.61). Differences were widened by the Militants’ “ideological hatred” of Thatcher’s government (Murden, 2006, p.455). They loathed the callous, impersonal forces of global capitalism which Thatcher personified (Sykes et al, 2013, p.310). They blamed the city’s downfall on decisions made in far-away boardrooms (Belchem, 2006a, p.52). They were angry that – when faced with Liverpool’s demise – central government was happy to leave the city to rot (Murden, 2006, p.455). In this way, the Militants fostered feelings in the declining city of “us against the world” (Munck, 2003, p.6).

Set within this context, the Militants embarked on their rapid expansion of municipal house building, against the wishes of – and without adequate funding from – central government (Couch, 2003, p.27). At the same time, unemployment soared and out-migration accelerated as locals moved elsewhere in search of work, leaving Liverpool struggling to maintain an infrastructure built for a city twice its size. As such, Liverpool tried to become a city free from central government while – at the same time – being dependent upon its handouts (Dunster, 2008). To sustain its urban regeneration strategy, the Militants took a number of loans from overseas banks, sank heavily into debt and nearly bankrupted the city council, forcing it to sell off sizeable chunks of municipal real estate (Meegan, 2003, p.61). By the late 1980s, Liverpool was not a city that easily attracted footloose private investment (Couch, 2003, p.21). The city’s image was partly to blame. Economic decay, unemployment, poverty, the Toxteth Riots and the radical politics of the Militants made the city appear penniless and ungovernable. Liverpool had also gained a reputation for having a “strike-happy” workforce due to a succession of industrial struggles in the late 1960s/1970s as workers reacted against the cut- backs brought about by global restructuring (Murden, 2006, p.432). Furthermore

102 the Militants were resolutely against civic boosterism and even closed the council promotional agency, resulting in Liverpool becoming closely identified with restrictive practices. This was also off-putting to investors (Littlefield, 2009; Meegan, 2003). All this did lasting damage to investor confidence and private investment in the city dried up. Sadly, this came at a time when job-creation was so badly needed.

Although Liverpool's fortunes sank to their lowest point in the 1980s, this was also the decade of Liverpool’s pioneer attempts at heritage and cultural tourism (Belchem, 2006a, p.53; Biddulph, 2011, p.73) – spearheaded by its flagship scheme, the Albert Dock. Through the MDC’s reclamation of large areas of the docklands, the derelict 1840s Albert Dock was renovated and re-opened in 1984 as a complex of shops, offices, restaurants and apartments. It was to later include the re-opening of an extended Maritime Museum (1986), the opening of a Granada Television news centre and the Tate Liverpool (both 1988). By housing an outpost of the Tate Gallery, this set a very high standard for future re-use schemes in the city (Sharples, 2004, p.38). In addition there was a Tall Ships Festival (1984) and an International Garden Festival (1984) (Fig 4.21). The MDC funded the garden festival on 35 acres of contaminated land in the south of the city centre, after which the site was to be reinvented as prime real estate, and today some housing has been built. However at the time the Militants chose not to participate in Thatcher- led regeneration approaches and did nothing with the site, instead allowing it to largely return to scrub. Their response to the site brought Militant councillors under fire for wasting the momentum gained from the garden festival’s success (Murden, 2006, p.463). Its popular appeal had led to 3.4 million visitors between May and October. However the MDC’s efforts at reinvigorating the local economy were also severely criticised in the city. It was questioned how the MDC offered value for money when it spend £170 million of public funds to attract only £25 million of private investment, while creating just 1,500 new jobs (Murden, 2006, p.446). Nonetheless the MDC projects, especially the garden festival, were considered important because they generated a “cultural impulse” in the city (Murden, 2006, p.446). Heritage and cultural tourism became viewed as a potentially successful formula for regeneration.

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Figure 4.21: The International Garden Festival, 1984 (https://www.28dayslater.co.uk/pleasure-island-may-2009-report.t40088)

4.9 The 1990s: the dawn of the urban renaissance era “In the '80s and early '90s there seemed little reason for the city to continue to exist. It suffered low investment, high unemployment, and a bad reputation” (Dunster, 2008). The city’s pioneer attempts at cultural tourism failed to turn the tide, and seemingly irreversible economic and demographic decline spiralled Liverpool down into European Union Objective One status in 1993. This programme was set up to aid the EU’s poorest regions, to enable them to come to terms with global structural change. Given that Merseyside had not previously been accorded such status this was an indication of the relative failure of the 1980s regeneration policies (Couch, 2003, p.22). The Objective One status was a mixed blessing. While a lot of money was at stake (£700m for 1993-2000), Objective One status was a blow to the city: “it was frankly embarrassing that this once great city actually qualified for it” (Littlefield, 2009, p.20). Previously, Liverpool had been awarded £400m under Objective Two status (1989 to 1993), having started to bid for subsidies from the European Community to support regeneration the late 1980s. In fact, compiling the EU bids pushed Liverpool’s leaders to start thinking strategically about the future, as the bids required long term planning and timetables of six/seven years (Sweet, 2004). If their applications were successful, how would they spend the funds? Through the analysis undertaken to support Liverpool’s bids, the local economic importance of tourism, culture, leisure and the waterfront – which had already began with Albert Dock – were identified, along with

104 the key role played by external image in attracting or deterring potential inward investment (Couch, 2003, pp.20-21).

The 1990’s saw local government playing a much bigger role in delivering regeneration projects (Couch, 2003, p.163). This contrasted with the 1980s when their potential contribution to regeneration was not recognised, not least because – in their early days – the UDCs generally accepted the Thatcherite opinion that local authorities were part of the problem of decline, not part of the solution (Cowan, 2005, p.421). The 1990s also saw the introduction of competitive bidding for regeneration funds, with the introduction of City Challenge (1992-1998). Funds were allocated to successful local partnerships of public, private and voluntary bodies, thereby introducing the requirement for productive, cross-sectoral partnership working in order to qualify for regeneration funding. Under this new partnership model, Liverpool began to mobilise partnership working arrangements and secured a successful City Challenge bid to fund Liverpool City Centre East projects (£37.5m). Broadly speaking, City Challenge funds – like EU funds – were to enable numerous infrastructure and economic regeneration projects intended to enhance a city's image and the make the city more attractive for private investment.

Liverpool also benefitted from another new scheme, the Single Regeneration Budget (SRB), for which City Challenge had been a forerunner. Launched in 1994, John Major’s conservative government (1990-1997) set about simplifying the regeneration process by merging more than twenty un-coordinated funding schemes for urban re-investment into one Single Regeneration Budget. These un- coordinated schemes, which had developed during the Thatcher years, baffled local authorities and businesses alike. They also led to whole regeneration efforts being less than the sum of their parts, due to the lack of a holistic overview and the involvement of too many agencies (Couch, 2003, pp.163-164). The main purpose of SRB funding was to act as a catalyst for regeneration in the sense that the funding would attract other resources from the private, public and voluntary sectors. Liverpool benefitted from a number of SRB schemes which, again, were allocated on the basis of competitive bids by local partnerships. One such partnership was the Ropewalks Partnership (1993), covering the run-down conservation area around Duke Street/Bold Street, between the city centre and Toxteth which included over 100 listed buildings, but had many redundant warehouses and workshops since the closure of the docks. In terms of a regeneration strategy, public funds were largely focused on the creation of new

105 squares and the rolling-out a huge programme of public realm improvements. These works were intended to encourage the private sector to invest in construction/renovation projects throughout the area. Later, Liverpool One was to herald a different type of development partnership, whereby, facilitated by Liverpool City Council’s land assembly powers, the private sector would control both the buildings and the public realm, and in return the city council would share in the scheme’s financial future.

The early 1990s The partial implementation of the Strand-Paradise district, in conjunction with other piecemeal development, surface car parking, and – in places – years of decline and underinvestment meant that in the 1990’s attention turned to what is now the Liverpool One site. It offered a “genuinely dismal link” between the city’s core shopping streets, the successes of the Albert Dock and the emerging Ropewalks area (Biddulph, 2011, p.85).

As part of its role, the MDC created a Development Brief (1993) for what was known as the Paradise/Strand area, though it resulted in no initial takers (Biddulph, 2011, p.73). It did lead however, in 1996, to the Walton Group buying an ‘option’ on Chavasee Park from the city council, which cost somewhere between £20,000- £26,000 (accounts vary). This gave the Walton Group the right – the first option – to buy and develop Chavasse Park on or before a later date (12 September 2002) for a pre-agreed price. However, the option was only valid if city council’s own plans for the park, to build a National Discovery Centre (Fig 4.22 and 4.23) to mark The Millennium – which was granted planning permission in March 1999 – fell through (Bartlett, 2008). The pre-agreed price for the site was somewhere between £6-£16m (again, accounts vary).

Figure 4.22: The proposed National Discovery Centre (http://www.reimagine.co.nz/gallery/culture-and-events/national-discovery-park/)

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Figure 4.23: A plan view of the National Discovery Centre – with the Liverpool One boundary overlaid in red (Taylor and Davenport, 2009, p.27)

Having benefitted from such extensive public sector funding, the city began to turn itself around from the mid-1990s, albeit at a slow pace (Biddulph, 2010, p.101). After several decades of sustained under investment and market failure, investor confidence started to be restored. From 1995-2001, the city’s first signs of renaissance were being established principally on employment growth in retailing and entertainment: hotels, bars and cafes (Meegan, 2003, p.70). This growth was helped by the expansion of Liverpool John Lennon Airport, the emergence of low cost airlines and the subsequent popularity of European city breaks (Rink et al., 2012, p.172). In addition, to a lesser extent, there was employment growth in banking, finance and insurance, though more in their associated call centres than actual commercial office developments (Meegan, 2003, pp.70-71). The 1990s (and beyond) also saw new housing developments and offices on the MDC’s reclaimed waterfront land. In this way, although the MDC’s regeneration efforts didn’t seem to go very far in solving the large-scale problems which plagued Liverpool, they did eventually start to bear some fruit in the 1990s (Murden, 2006, p.439). However, by 2001, Liverpool had lost 49.5% of its population from its 1930’s peak, as people left in search of employment (Rink et al., 2012, p.165).

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4.9.1 The close of the 1990s In 1998 the political landscape changed for Liverpool, which impacted on the city centre. Since the Militants had been dismissed from office in 1987, the city council had been run by a more moderate Labour group, but in terms of combating urban decline, they hadn’t regarded the city centre as a crucial area for regeneration since political interests and votes lay in other areas of the city (Parkinson and Robson, 2000, p.16). In the early 1990s, Liverpool’s city centre could offer potential voters from a pool of just 2,340 residents (Liverpool Vision, 2013, p.7). However in 1998 the Liberal Democrats were elected and they enthusiastically pursued a modernising agenda for the city council, focusing on urban entrepreneurialism (Murden, 2006, p.473). While historically urban entrepreneurialism had been a Liverpool forte, in the more recent past, the Militant era and its aftermath had delayed the emergence of the more entrepreneurial, pro-business styles of working in local governance that had become evident in Manchester, Glasgow and Birmingham (Jones and Wilks-Heeg, 2004, p.345). While other cities had been quietly “getting on with it”, Liverpool’s turn for attracting private investment and renewal lagged behind (Littlefield, 2009, p.41). The Liberal Democrats, however, announced there would be a “new Liverpool” with an incredibly business friendly agenda (Thomas, 2001a). Basically, “Liverpool wanted to be put back on the map” (Littlefield, 2009, p.48). The Liberal Democrats set their sights on attracting global capital, and central to this ambition was the city centre. Despite its lack of voters, they recognised the city centre’s critical economic significance (Parkinson and Robson, 2000, p.17). Regenerating the city centre would be the engine for driving a new-found prosperity.

4.9.2 New Labour Running concurrent with Liverpool’s new, entrepreneurial civic leadership was New Labour coming to power (1997). The Liberal Democrats were influenced by their thinking on repopulating and revitalizing city centres and by Towards an Urban Renaissance (1999). Liverpool was certainly the type of city to which Towards an Urban Renaissance was directed. It had plenty of reasons to embrace its positive urban agenda, not least because – in commercial terms – the previous approaches to regeneration were not leading to significant levels of private investment (Biddulph, 2010, p.102). The Liberal Democrats swiftly implemented one of the recommendations of the report: the establishment of an Urban Regeneration Company, of which Liverpool Vision (June 1999) was the UK’s first. Liverpool Vision’s role was to focus solely on making development happen in the city centre. It was to draw-up an overall city centre masterplan (2001’s Strategic Regeneration

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Framework), lure-in investors and developers, and secure a steady stream of public funding from various sources (Sweet, 2004). The overall aim was to improve investor confidence, by communicating that Liverpool city centre was a place safe to do business.

4.9.3 The Unitary Development Plan In the 1990s, in terms of the planning policy backdrop, the Local Government Act (1985) had required Unitary Development Plans (UDPs) to be prepared by metropolitan councils, such as Liverpool. A Draft UDP was approved in 1996, and later adopted following retail policy modifications in 2002 (chapter 5). The UDP was especially important to Liverpool because, from 1998, the MDC would become extinct and the city council would become the planning authority again for the former MDC area. As such, documentation needed to be overhauled, especially in the light of Liverpool’s changing economic circumstances. As part of a wider strategy for moving forward, there was a call to investigate the city centre retail function and its future potential. Therefore, in 1999 Liverpool City Council commissioned Healey and Baker to carry out a study. Their subsequent report revealed that Liverpool could rely on a potential catchment population of 2.5 million visitors and that, in terms of its commercial potential as a regional shopping centre, it was short of around 100,000m2 of retail space (Heurkens, 2012, p.294). As such, the city council passed a resolution for the comprehensive redevelopment of the Paradise Street Development Area (PDSA) – often referred to as the Bluecoat Triangle – a triangular zone bounded by Church Street/Lord Street, Hanover Street and South John Street (Fig 4.24). The PDSA was later renamed Liverpool One. On the advice of Healey and Baker, the PDSA was then enlarged significantly because there was no grant aid available for a retail development proposal. Therefore the scheme had to be commercially viable in its own right. Consequently the city council extended the site boundaries into the Ropewalks and towards the Mersey, in order to maximise the available floor space to enable any future developer to gain the biggest possible commercial benefit from the scheme (Fig 4.25).

Figure 4.24: The PSDA or Bluecoat Triangle (Grosvenor, 2004, p.8)

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Figure 4.25: The enlarged PSDA (Grosvenor, 2004, p.9)

The late 1990s The PDSA site was chosen for a retail scheme because the city council was already a significant land owner in this area, through land assembly to deliver the Shankland Plan. This would enable the authority to take on a proactive role in any redevelopment. As such, in June 1999 the city council published an advertisement in newspapers asking developers to state their interest in the area. The result, six years on from the MDC’s Development Brief which had attracted no interest, was a different story. The city council’s Paradise Street Development Brief (1999) attracted 47 expressions of interest from national and international prospective developers (Parker and Garnell, 2006, p.302). This response was a relief for the city council as it confirmed that the private sector shared ambitions for redeveloping Liverpool’s city centre (Heurkens, 2012, p.295). In addition, after several decades of sustained under investment and market failure, it represented a major breakthrough in terms of the city council’s ability to attract new investment (Parker and Garnell, 2006, p.302).

Overall, as the 1990s drew to a close, with over twenty years of public-sector involvement in physical regeneration and government pump-priming spending to stimulate the local economy, the stage was set for the private sector to finally take notice of the redevelopment of the city and get involved (Murden, 2006, p.475). However, while the 1990s may have seen the beginnings of a recovery in the city’s fortunes, the ongoing weaknesses of the local economy were reflected when, in 1999 Objective One status was awarded again for the funding round of 2000-2007. This reflected the deep-seated structural problems Liverpool continued to face (Meegan, 2003, p.72).

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4.10 Post-2000 to the present day The second round of Objective One funding brought a further £840m to Liverpool and extended the city’s years of large-scale injections of Objective One funding from 1993 to 2007 (Neild, 2004). This enabled numerous infrastructure and economic regeneration projects to be delivered in a well-funded, structured manner. Schemes part-funded by European funding (and secured through match- funding from national subsidies and other sources) included: the new public space adjacent to the Metropolitan Cathedral (2006: £1m EU contribution towards £2.6m costs), the restoration of St George’s Hall (2007: £3m towards £18m), the rebuilding of the Pier Head to enable cruise liners to berth right in the city centre (2007: £8.6m towards £19m), the Kings Dock Arena and Convention Centre (2008: £50m towards £400m, the biggest single EU contribution), the Liverpool Canal Link (2009: £7.5m towards £22m), the Lime Street Gateway station improvements (2010: £3m towards £25m), St Pauls Square speculative office space (2007-2011: £9.2m towards £120m) and the building of the Liverpool Museum (2011: £9.4m towards £65m), as well as financial support for the European Capital of Culture in 2008 (£2.5m). Liverpool John Lennon Airport also benefitted, with funding to increase terminal capacity (2002: £23m towards £130m).

The belief in trickle down – first put forward in the days of the MDC – persisted, whereby urban regeneration would extend beyond the renewal of the physical fabric and would bring jobs and thus growth. Social welfare objectives could then be addressed subsequent to growth, through trickle down processes to replenish the poorer constituencies of the city. In this respect, during the decade following 2000, job growth was recorded for the first time in decades (Rink et al., 2012, p.172). This was especially through new private sector investment in shops, bars and cafes. Given Liverpool’s recent past, this growth was “modest, but significant” (Sykes et al., 2013, p.316). Meanwhile, in 2005, the first hotel was delivered without any grant aid: the Crowne Plaza on Princes Dock.

There had been a discouraging “mountain of failures down the recent past” (Clelland, 2008). However, by the late 2000s the future emerging from the construction cranes over the city centre finally felt encouraging (Finch, 2008). In addition to the large EU funded schemes, there were private schemes like the £100m Metquarter (2006: retail) and the £135m Mann Island buildings (2011: office, residential and retail/leisure). The city centre’s renaissance was not all headline projects, however. There has a significant preponderance of smaller mixed-use projects (retail, office and particularly residential) in mainly the

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Ropewalks and the historic ‘downtown’ district, predominately undertaken by small and local developers (Biddulph, 2010, p.108). More than new builds, these schemes included extensions, conversions and refurbishments to existing buildings. In addition, much of the docks and historic ‘downtown’ received UNESCO World Heritage status in 2004, and Liverpool was awarded European Capital of Culture in 2008. All this helped improve the image and reputation of the city.

4.10.1 Preparing the ground for Liverpool One It was Grosvenor’s Liverpool One scheme though, with a total investment value of £1.3 billion, which was Liverpool’s most significant headline development. Liverpool, for many decades, was not able to generate economic growth by itself and had been highly dependent on vast amounts of public subsidy (Table 4.1). However Liverpool One marked the symbolic return of serious money to the city (Sykes et al., 2013, p.312). Not only was Liverpool One the largest of over a hundred projects which had begun to transform the city, but it also doubled the city's retail offer (Hatton, 2008). Though a key point to make is that, while Liverpool One was privately funded, the scheme would not have happened without the groundwork laid down by the EU funding. This demonstrates how Liverpool’s physical transformation has been heavily reliant on public sector policies and funding (BBC, 2006; Meegan, 2003). In this way, the cranes over Liverpool city centre at this time did not signify an overnight success.

Furthermore there has been a mixed degree of successes. In 2003 Everton Football Club failed to raise the funds to build a new stadium at Kings Dock (more on their next proposed stadium, in Kirkby, in chapter five). In the process Everton caused a stir by reportedly applying for £35m of EU public subsidy, despite being a private company. The Fourth Grace proposal on the Mann Island site collapsed in 2004, despite being allocated £37m of EU funds, as spiralling costs meant floorspace had to reconfigured to include more residential. This rendered the scheme unacceptable as a publically funded cultural facility. The Merseytram scheme to reintroduce trams to Liverpool was cancelled in 2005, due to a lack of match funding from central government, although it had been allocated £20m of EU funds. In this light, “one could be forgiven for thinking that conditions in Liverpool have made it difficult, if not impossible, to deliver anything like a major project” (Littlefield, 2009, p.26).

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Table 4.1: History of innovative planning and regeneration initiatives in Liverpool most relevant to the Liverpool One site Initiative Year Purpose English Estates 1936 Parliament granted the Liverpool Corporation powers of land development/industrial promotion, with adjacent workers’ housing Development 1949 Redistributive regional economic development aid, whereby central Area status government directed expanding industries to Liverpool Development 1960 Redistributive regional policy which incentivised growth industries District status like car manufacturing to locate to less prosperous areas of the country Inner Urban 1978 Promoted urban regeneration through a central-local government Areas Act partnership model, through the redirection of funding towards hard-pressed inner city authorities Merseyside 1981 Single-minded development agency for the large-scale Development regeneration of the central city through central government Corporation working directly with the private sector Merseyside 1981 To help the struggling MDC by encouraging innovation in Task Force regeneration The Militants 1983 Urban regeneration strategy focused on municipal employment and the renovation/rebuilding of the municipal housing stock EU Objective 1989 To aid the EU’s poorer regions, to enable them to come to terms Two status with global structural change through funding infrastructure and economic regeneration projects City Challenge 1992 Introduced competitive bidding for regeneration funds: allocated to successful local partnerships of public, private and voluntary bodies EU Objective 1993 To aid the EU’s poorest regions, to enable them to come to terms One status with global structural change Single 1994 Set-out to simplify regeneration process by merging more than Regeneration twenty un-coordinated funding schemes for urban re-investment Budget into one initiative Liverpool Vision 1999 To focus solely on the city centre, through an overall masterplan to lure-in investors, and secure a steady stream of public funding EU Objective 2000 To aid the EU’s poorest regions, to enable them to come to terms One status with global structural change EU Phasing-in 2007 Transitional funding to phase a city into generating economic status growth by itself Mersey Waters 2012 Companies offered tax breaks to locate in Liverpool Waters and Enterprise Zone Wirral Waters EU Phasing-in 2014 Transitional funding to phase a city into generating economic status growth by itself

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The physical transformation of Liverpool city centre was also due to the fact its population boomed. The promotion of urban living saw its population grow from 2,340 residents in the early 1990s to over 33,540 by 2016, of which a significant percentage were students (Liverpool Vision, 2016, p.8). In line with New Labour increasing the numbers of students entering higher education, Liverpool’s city centre population growth has been partly driven by the expansion of the city’s three universities, aided by Liverpool’s low living costs and cultural appeal (Rink et al., 2012, p.172). With this expansion came a rise in professional services, as the city capitalised on the huge knowledge base within its universities (Parker and Garnell, 2006, p.293). As such, there has been a shift from building city centre student accommodation to apartments for young managerial and professional workers. However, despite this shift Liverpool city centre has not become exclusively developed with ‘yuppie’ apartments, with a number of housing associations active in developing new social housing (Biddulph, 2010, p.108). Furthermore, post-2000 the city overall saw a stabilization of its population after decades of both economic and housing-led out-migration. The latest (2011) census showed a 5.5% population increase since 2001 to 466,400 people (Sykes et al., 2013, p.300).

However, while decline appears to have been halted – the city no longer has a net out-migration and the economy is turning – the UK entered a recession in 2008 and Liverpool suffers with ongoing weaknesses in its local economy. Between 2009 and 2014 Liverpool jobs grew by 1.0% which was significantly below the national growth rate of 4.9% (Liverpool City Council, 2016, p.8). Plus, there were concerns about the growth of part-time jobs and loss of full-time jobs. In addition there are significant numbers of people not in employment: from 2006-2015 Liverpool had the UK’s highest percentage of workless households (Office for National Statistics, 2016). For retail as a driver of urban regeneration, these issues affect consumer spending and thus the confidence of retail tenants and investors. In addition, the current economic crisis has made private development finance increasingly difficult to obtain, and the private sector even more reluctant to invest. For Liverpool, there is also a greatly reduced availability of public finance, especially EU money. This is partly due to increased employment and partly due to 2004’s enlargement of the European Union, which meant that Liverpool was no longer one of the poorest regions. As such, for the EU funding rounds until 2020, Liverpool has been awarded ‘phasing-in status’. This is transitional funding to ensure the progress made to date through Objective One funding was not immediately jeopardised by a complete withdrawal of subsidy. To phase into generating economic growth by

114 itself Liverpool was awarded £212m to invest between 2007 and 2013, and £290m for the 2014-2020 period.

Looking ahead, despite the current economic crisis, developer interest remains in the city, most notably with Peel Holdings and their £5.5bn plan to redevelop the northern dock system, launched in 2007. In 2013 the 148 acre Liverpool Waters project gained an outline planning permission which actually spans over three decades (YB News, 2015). Along with Wirral Waters, its sister project across the Mersey, the two schemes form the Mersey Waters Enterprise Zone, which was created when the coalition government designated 24 new Enterprise Zones in England in 2012. This means companies will benefit from tax breaks if they locate there. Liverpool Waters includes a proposed 9,000 apartments, hundreds of offices, hotels, bars offices, restaurants, shops, cultural buildings, a new home for the Cruise Liner Terminal, and possibly – finally – a new stadium for Everton. Described as the “biggest regeneration project in the history of Liverpool” Peel is expecting to see over £300m of work by the end of 2017 (Morby, 2017). With an overall masterplan, but no individual Design Briefs for its 88 construction plots, each plot is being individually released by Peel Holdings to seek to attract developers. The scheme is dependent on attracting inward investment, “with global capital being key” (Sykes et al., 2013, p.314). In this way, Liverpool Waters is a reminder that Liverpool’s regeneration attempts have always been explicitly linked with flows of global capital.

Pre-planning consent (2002) From its 47 responses to the 1999 Development Brief, Liverpool City Council selected Grosvenor as the developer in 2000 and an initial planning application was submitted for the scheme in 2001. However, there was a problem with the site. Having bought an ‘option’ on Chavasee Park from the city council in 1996, in August 2000 the Walton Group had already applied for planning permission. The Walton Group’s proposed development was a £400m shopping mall proposal inside a futuristic membrane roof superstructure, designed by the acclaimed architect Philip Johnson (Fig 4.26). The proposal was for 1.1 million square feet retail complex with leisure facilities, including a 12-screen cinema, bowling alley and theme restaurants, along with open space and a pedestrian footbridge across The Strand to Albert Dock.

However a bitter legal battle ensued as, despite their option-agreement with The Walton Group, the city council now wanted to be development partners with

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Grosvenor and their rival, larger scheme which had actually incorporated Chavasse Park. There had already been one legal battle over the site. In 1999 the Walton Group had successfully argued in the courts that, due to delays, the city council had overrun the time allowed to secure funding for its proposed National Discovery Centre (an August 1999 deadline). This meant the Walton Group was legally entitled to exercise their option over the land. In this way the Walton Group controversially brought down the city council’s £125m plans for their key millennium project (Thomas, 2001b).

When the next row entered the courts, it became more of an urban design battle. City councillors said the futuristic design was “alien to the existing form of the city” (Thomas, 2001b). This was a bold attitude for a city desperate for development (Biddulph, 2010, p.108). The issue was not just its appearance, but the way – underneath its sculpted glass and steel canopy shaped like a giant wave – it was a mall. It was a self-contained, mall-based design and Liverpool City Council had moved away from this type of thinking. The Liverpool One scheme, on the other hand, represented an opportunity to bring vacant sites and buildings back into use, to improve and reuse buildings of historic interest and provide attractive linkages joining Church Street (the main retail area) with the tourist attractions of the docks and the Ropewalks area. Liverpool One was intended to “fuse and unify” these key areas (Parker and Garnell, 2006, p.298).

The city council stalled and didn’t determine Walton’s planning application, meaning the final say came from the Deputy Prime Minister's office on 6 September 2002. The Walton Group scheme was rejected because it was inward looking and was thought to fail to deliver regenerative effects within the wider context (Biddulph, 2010, p.108). Not only this, but the Deputy Prime Minister (John Prescott) considered that the proposal would be “significantly harmful" if built, in terms of its architectural style and its impact on the area’s heritage (Liverpool Echo, 2002). Having failed to gain planning permission, the Walton Group’s option expired the following week. This enabled Chavasse Park’s inclusion into the Grosvenor scheme, which was granted planning permission less than three weeks later (26 September 2002). Extremely disappointed and feeling that their proposal had many merits, the Walton Group pursued financial recompense from the city council by threatening more legal action and was awarded a final settlement of £2m in 2008 (Bartlett, 2008). In addition to this £2m, its court battles with the Walton Group reportedly cost Liverpool City Council £3m in legal fees (Davis, 2002).

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Figure 4.26: The Walton Group’s 2000 proposal for Chavasse Park (Source: http://www.2FMay_Talkpdf&usg=AFQjCNEG6x9y4FvodW8U5kH-deH+BkaTv6Wg)

4.11 Conclusion The historical analysis presented in this chapter has outlined the decline of Liverpool which began in the early 1900s, and was particularly severe after 1970. Although, since the 1930s, the city has been in receipt of a stream of national and – more latterly – European funding initiatives, huge sums of public money have been spent, but to little effect. Liverpool’s problems have stubbornly persisted. However in the decade following 2000, modest – but significant – employment growth has been recorded. Physically, the city centre has undergone something of a renaissance. The main drivers behind this renaissance are the growth of the service sector and the re-urbanisation of the central city, both from the mid-1990s.

To return to the chapter’s introduction, while it may be true that organic piecemeal development over the years had failed to stem Liverpool’s decline, the Deputy Prime Minister (John Prescott) neglected to mention the failure of all other regeneration approaches seeking to stem Liverpool’s decline over a seventy year period from the 1930s. The 1930s and 1950s regional economic aid, the planned out-migration policies of the 1930s-1970s, the 1960s comprehensive redevelopment, the 1970s central-local government partnerships and the 1980s central-private partnerships – they all, for various reasons, failed to deliver long term regeneration to Liverpool, bringing the discussion to this current era of more entrepreneurial, pro-business styles of working in local governance. Throughout these seventy years however, a key point to make is that Liverpool had begun its long relationship with regeneration initiatives and also with alternative planning mechanisms, like the MDC. In addition, despite an apparent reliance on external

117 aid, Liverpool actually has a long history of urban entrepreneurialism. In the following chapters, both these characteristics will be seen continuing throughout the planning and development of Liverpool One.

Whereas for decades a number of factors came together to compound Liverpool’s economic problems, by around 2000, a number of factors came together to aid Liverpool’s recovery. This led to a flurry of construction work. There was the gradual realisation of the value of culture/heritage to tourism and the availability of large quantities of EU money which enabled Liverpool to embark on a well-funded and structured approach to delivering projects – including large headline projects. For city centre regeneration, the Liberal Democrats brought both stability and a new political mood which sat well with New Labour’s aspirations for an urban renaissance, especially the central role they saw for the city centre in their new business friendly agenda for Liverpool. In addition there were cultural and lifestyle changes which increased the public’s interest in city centres as places to live and spend leisure time. There was also the emergence of low cost airlines and the consequent popularity of city breaks, the greatly expanded numbers of students entering Liverpool’s universities and local developers/builders investing in smaller scale, non-headline projects. However, a key point to take from this chapter is that cities can change, and they can change quickly. This is especially in response to the flows of global capital. As Liverpool struggles with ongoing weaknesses in its local economy – low employment growth, the growth of part-time jobs/loss of full- time jobs and a high percentage of workless households – it is a concern that Liverpool One represents a model of regeneration reliant on consumer spending. As seen by examining Liverpool’s turbulent past, there’s a risk – like other regeneration projects – that Liverpool One might fail long-term. On this note, the study now turns from historical context to the more contemporary events of the following four key empirical chapters.

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Chapter Five Mediating design at the local level

5.1 Introduction This chapter builds on the idea, introduced in the literature review, that planning mechanisms can be organised in such a way to help achieve certain ideals. Given that the planning mechanisms for Liverpool One were arranged around a design meta-narrative, outwardly, this might suggest that high quality design was the pursued ideal. However given the design meta-narrative approach allowed for some experimentation, this chapter – under a postpolitical lens – looks deeper into the processes behind the production of Liverpool One. There is a particular interest in the different sets of actors involved in its innovative approaches to planning and who benefitted most from them. To this end, the chapter is set out in two parts. The first part briefly outlines why the planning mechanisms needed to be reconfigured, before setting out the scheme’s decision-making environment. The second part examines the consultation processes which were put in place to inform the decision-making environment, in terms of who was allowed a voice in the processes and if there were any far-reaching implications stemming from Liverpool One’s particular approach to public consultation.

Part one: the decision-making environment

5.2 Why the planning mechanisms were reconfigured Liverpool One’s planning mechanisms were reconfigured due to the size of the scheme and the speed at which the development was to take place. In terms of size, because the lack of grant aid meant the city council itself had pressed for a larger, more commercially viable scheme, for Grosvenor this meant, “the scheme got bigger and bigger: much bigger than we ever envisaged” (development partnership 5). In addition, speed was an issue because, initially, Liverpool One was a largely bank-rolled development. As the scheme was viewed as risky, it proved difficult for Grosvenor to attract equity investors (more of which in chapter eight). As a result, of the projected development costs of £650 million, Grosvenor had to put together £400 million with bank loans (development partnership 5). That’s “a whole load of bank debt” sitting underneath Liverpool One (development partnership 1). Due to the pressures of bank debt/interest, a planning approach was required which would enable working at speed.

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Two key development partners, one with Grosvenor and the other with the city council, explained how they came up with a proposal to enable working at speed, described by the Grosvenor representative as doing “a deal with the city council and the planners [after which] it was very easy, once we had a plan to work to” (development partnership 5). Broadly speaking the plan for working at speed was, first, outline planning permission would be sought through submitting an overarching masterplan for the whole development site of 27 individual buildings across 20 plots and six defined areas of public realm. As the basis of the outline planning application, the masterplan would go before the planning committee to be determined. Following the granting of outline permission, any outstanding details not covered by the masterplan were to be included in a list of reserved matters. Reserved matters would be dealt with via delegated powers, at the planning officer level. Only if there was a major deviation from the masterplan would the determination of a detailed application be elevated to the planning committee (development partnership 3).

At this point it is worth noting that, although for clarity the study refers to the masterplan as being an outline application, it was actually a hybrid application for part outline/part full planning permission. Outline consent was sought for the whole of the masterplan, while two proposed developments – alternative sites for Herbert the Hairdressers and the BBC/Quakers (chapter 6) – sought detailed planning consent straight away. These proposals went before the full planning committee because they were in the Duke Street Conservation Area and also because they were to be seen as exemplars of the quality that was expected to follow, to build trust that the masterplanned-outline/delegated-detailed approach would work (Consultant 3).

While reserved matters are usually issues like appearance, landscaping, means of access, layout and scale, in reality, the masterplan, which was produced by BDP, was a substantial document and was very prescriptive. For each individual plot, the masterplan already included detailed indicative floor schedules, servicing arrangements, means of access, materials, scale, massing and height – plus any special considerations relevant to that particular plot. It also detailed shopfront design concepts and a landscape masterplan. The rationale was that the masterplan would establish how the future detailed development of individual plots would evolve; ensuring the variety of architects working across the site would be working towards common goals. The masterplan was a critical document: given its

120 level of detail, once it gained outline approval the vision for the entire project was “set” (development partnership 3 and 6).

The masterplanned-outline and the delegated-detailed planning stages, combined, allowed the planning process around Liverpool One to be tightly programmed in a way described as: “Pretty much an exemplar approach to getting something of that scale built that quickly and at that complexity ... the whole thing was delivered, almost from start to finish, in 8½ years which is incredibly quick ... an incredible achievement” (development partnership 6). Indeed, in terms of an exemplar approach, such speed helped Liverpool One win its RTPI national award in 2008 in which the jury praised the pace at which the scheme was developed (RTPI, 2009). Meanwhile, ‘le jury’ for its European Laureate award saw a success story based on good urban planning and governance, and close cooperation between the public and private sectors (ECTP, 2010, p.15). Given that awards play a role in rubberstamping seemingly successful processes, the section now sets out how planning mechanisms were reconfigured in the production of Liverpool One.

5.3 The Member Working Group Eight interviewees – five development partners, two councillors and a consultant – were able to discuss the Member Working Group, which was an important mechanism of the Liverpool One planning process. At the outset of the project, a Liverpool City Council Member Working Group of three key councillors was created to select the developer, including the leader of the council. Then after the developer selection stage, the role of the Member Working Group changed from a selection committee to a design forum. At this point, the group also increased in size to “five or six” key councillors (development partnership 3). As a design forum, the councillors were to work with Grosvenor to support and develop the design of Liverpool One, from the initial outline masterplanning stage through to the later detailed designs for individual plots/buildings. They were also involved in the process of architect selection for some buildings. As a design forum, to combat any political division over the scheme, the councillors came from all parties. Additionally, there was a councillor from the Merseytravel Committee. However a key point to make is that the Member Working Group wasn’t a stand-alone design forum, but a ‘cog’ of a wider system of weekly Design Review Meetings.

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5.4 Weekly Design Review Meetings at the outline stage Seven interviewees – development partners, councillors and built environment professionals – were able to talk about their attendance at the Design Review Meetings, which tended to be half a dozen people sat around a table. This would be councillors from the Member Working Group and Grosvenor staff. Managerially, to work through the scheme design, the overall scheme was divided into “bite-sized chunks” (development partnership 6). On Thursdays, Grosvenor would then invite three or four people – architects, designers, developers – to bring forward their ‘chunk’ of the scheme to a Design Review Meeting. The idea of the meetings was that people would come together to look at designs and share their thoughts and exchange information. In addition to the core half dozen, also in attendance – depending on the issues being discussed – were council design advisers and council officers, including planning staff. In this way, the weekly Design Review Meetings were central to the scheme’s decision-making environment. However, a key point to make is that, as a design forum, the Member Working Group – who were different councillors to the planning committee – had no decision-making powers. Additionally, as the representatives of the people, the five/six councillors of the Member Working Group were less than the ten councillors who would normally sit on a planning committee.

With no decision-making powers, the role of councillors at the Design Review Meetings was variously described as sitting-in, commenting and giving opinions. When the issue was raised, during the interviews, that the creation of a Member Working Group had actually removed elected members from decision-making processes, three development partners and one councillor, all from Liverpool City Council, defended the approach: “Well they weren’t [removed]: they were involved the whole way and that is the whole point ... [they] were actually able to influence the scheme much more [than a planning committee councillor]” (development partnership 2).

“[The Member Working Group councillors] were very much involved in the evolution of the designs: not in the decisions, but in the discussions of how the designs evolved. So they ... had their say” (development partnership 3). The four interviewees who defended the approach argued that to be informally involved was more powerful than a councillor’s decision-making role on a planning committee. Yet the next chapter will document the relative ease with which the planning committee modified the height of One Park West. With its vast costs and tight deadlines and its subsequent fear of delays, the irony of this particular

122 development was that the councillors on the planning committee potentially wielded a huge amount of influence over the design of the scheme.

5.5 Weekly Design Review Meetings at the detailed stage After the masterplan gained outline planning approval, at the detailed planning stage, design decisions continued to be made at the weekly Design Review Meetings. Despite the masterplan’s prescriptiveness, there were still over 800 reserved matters set aside for the detailed planning approval stage. At this detailed stage, Place North West (n.d.) reported that a ‘streamlined’ decision- making process was adopted, whereby a dedicated team of officers reviewed and approved designs alongside the developer. However, Place North West were actually describing the use of the weekly Design Review Meetings in combination with delegated powers. Indeed, a Liverpool City Council representative was adamant that they did not streamline the planning process in any way: “when they say streamlined [sighs], we did not alter the statutory planning processes” (development partnership 2). No new bespoke procedures were set-up specifically to deal with Liverpool One. Rather, the council’s own pre-existing Scheme of Delegation was utilised: “We always had delegation of certain things, be they porches, garages or whatever, and then as the government put-in more targets in terms of dealing with planning applications [within set time frames], more applications became delegated” (development partnership 3). Broadly speaking, as the quote suggests, Schemes of Delegation were to deal with small scale development like porches and garages. This was to in order to free-up time for councillors to more closely examine and understand large applications, like Liverpool One. It appears, however, that the city council used an inverse approach to that intended for determining Liverpool One.

While only four interviewees, all development partners, were aware of the use of delegated powers, when it was suggested to these four that the individual buildings of Liverpool One constituted too major a development to be dealt with using delegated powers, the importance of the masterplan was argued: “Once the masterplan was set [approved] ... it gave you huge guidance in terms of the overall layout, massing, scale, materials, etc. Once that had been approved and things [the further detailed applications] fell within that, then – in reality – it was a relatively straightforward, well not straightforward, but it was quite easy then to say the designs were acceptable or otherwise” (development partnership 3).

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Given this straightforwardness, delegated powers were deemed appropriate, although, at that time, the Liverpool City Council Constitution (2001, pp.52-53) didn’t explicitly endorse this approach if an application was ‘straightforward’, that came later in the city council’s 2009 Scheme of Delegation. Despite this, under other conditions set-out in the 2001 Constitution, it was still deemed permissible for the outstanding issues stemming from the masterplan to be dealt with via delegated powers. As such, the 800-plus reserved matters were stored in – and ultimately discharged from – a huge matrix: ticked off one-by-one via officer delegation. This approach could facilitate speed because once a building’s reserved matters were discharged, work could start on site. This enabled the development to start even when, overall, there were outstanding detailed design issues. In this way, building work began on site in November 2004, despite the fact the scheme achieved its final discharge of reserved matters four years later, in October 2008.

For the public, the use of delegated powers did not affect a person’s ability to object, it affected how the council dealt with those objections. In terms of public comment, a detailed application would be submitted to the local planning authority as an application for reserved matters and would be advertised in the normal way. If there were no objections, or one or two objections that were not considered to be significant by the planning officers, the applications were dealt with at officer level. They would make the decision and any objectors would not have the ability to go to the planning committee with their objections (development partnership 3). This is, arguably, an example of a managerial-technocratic regime of governance, highlighted previously, whereby experts and managers resolve conflicts, thus enabling them to maintain an established order and acceptable outcomes. This approach also raises questions about ‘gatekeepers’. By gatekeepers it is meant individuals who control access to something. In this case the gatekeepers, planning officers, controlled entrances into democratic processes through utilising the Scheme of Delegation to decide themselves which applications had sufficient issues to go before the planning committee for determination. Of the 800-plus reserved matters stemming from the masterplan, there was only one issue: the height of One Park West (chapter 6).

5.6 Policy Backdrop It needs to be noted that, for development control purposes, the Scheme of Delegation could only be used to determine planning decisions which were in accordance with the planning policies of the UDP. In this respect the city council had a problem: it could not use delegated powers for Liverpool One. There were no

124 policy foundations on which to base planning decisions. The planning policies of Liverpool’s 1996 Draft UDP, despite setting out the planning agenda for the whole of Liverpool, made little or no mention of the Liverpool One site (Littlefield, 2009, p.89). This also meant that there were no policy foundations on which to base decisions relating to any compulsory purchase orders (CPOs) required for land assembly (chapter 6). The Draft UDP’s silence meant Grosvenor’s planning application lacked a backdrop of certainty for the scheme to progress.

In fact, the Draft UDP’s policies supported the rival Walton scheme. For the city council, “we had a UDP which basically supported the Walton scheme when we had proposed the Grosvenor scheme” (development partnership 3). As such, given that they had proposed the Liverpool One scheme in the first instance, “we had to change – I’m not supposed to say this – but we had to change policy, which we did, we did” (development partnership 3). Only two interviewees, both development partners, were able to talk knowledgably about the policy backdrop and about drafting whole planning policies around Grosvenor’s scheme – though it must be borne in mind that their masterplan was a response to the city council’s own Development Brief for the site. With no policy backdrop in place, initially the city council tried to tag their intentions for a new retail development onto the 1996 Draft UDP as supplementary planning guidance. However it quickly became clear that this was not the right way to approach the issue and the city council actually needed to amend the UDP. While this required a public inquiry, strengthening the policy position to support the Grosvenor scheme would give more weight to Liverpool One’s planning application should there be any objections. In this way, the masterplan gained approval in September 2002 against an emerging UDP with its amended, supportive policies, while the emerging UDP itself was adopted by Liverpool City Council in November 2002.

5.7 The culture of people having fun Through the Design Review Meetings, it took nine months to produce the masterplan. The breakneck speed of this achievement was accredited both to the fact that, “managerially, the Design Review Meetings dealt with the designs with ruthless efficiency” (consultant 3), and that those involved in the meetings were sharing the same “synergy” and thus “going in one direction” (development partnership 6). Indeed, much of the language so far relating to the Member Working Group and the Design Review Meetings hints at consensus: supporting, sharing thoughts, exchanging information and now working in synergy – with the exception, that is, of Merseytravel.

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Three interviewees who were privy to the inner workings of the Design Review Meetings commented negatively on Merseytravel. Given they held such a key site – their bus station stood where Debenhams now stands – Merseytravel were in a strong position to negotiate good public transport outcomes. However, disappointment was expressed that negotiating with Merseytravel drew-out the design process: “I think Merseytravel slowed it down ... and they should be a bit appalled ... if you slow the process down you start to cost people a lot of money ... if you’re borrowing money” (local partnership 1). In this light, it appeared that dissenters at the Design Review Meetings were judged harshly. With their focus on public transport, Merseytravel were perceived to be out-of-step with the consensus of facilitating development. However it appears that Merseytravel were an anomaly in terms of the general atmosphere of the Design Review Meetings, where it was commented that: “It was a kind of culture, this was very much people having fun. This is fun, you know ... and it was a very, very pleasurable experience ... I remember it is something very positive and ... the personal dynamics did help a lot. I mean, most of the people involved got on very well and that was good luck” (local politician 2). This quote raises questions about was it good luck or were people having fun because Liverpool One’s scheme design lacked gravity: “Issues about poverty, crime rates, obesity, I don’t know, health issues in the city, poor levels of education, the amount of homeless people: all that stuff is cut out, because they are not interested: that, to them, is a cross, not a tick” (academic 4). Given that the scheme covered 42.5 acres of Liverpool city centre, it would be expected that these types of issues would have surfaced.

However Liverpool One is, of course, an outdoor mall. As such a development partner explained their starting point for the scheme design: “We ... [came] from a standing point of saying ... ‘well, what do we have to take from a shopping centre?’ And quite obviously we took the roof off and took the doors away, and turned the architecture around and, in actual fact, although we never ever call ourselves a shopping centre, everything back of house here is identical to a shopping centre” (development partnership 1). In light of this quote, dealing with issues like poverty or obesity are not going to cross the scheme’s ‘foyers’ and enter its 42.5 acre space with ease: dealing with public transport seemed problematic enough. A key concern is that the Liverpool

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One scheme design may have been foreclosed from the outset, in terms of which urban issues were to be addressed. Furthermore, beyond shopping and image, the backdrop of fun/synergy was not going to help broaden the range of urban issues the scheme might seek to address: “I think it is when it all gets too pal-ly and everyone knows each other and here is another one: you know, can you just tick that box please and we will get on with building. That is when people get suspicious, isn’t it? ... So I think some sort of, you know, fresh air and external scrutiny is a good thing” (national regeneration organisation 2). As such, the second part of the chapter investigates how others were able to seek to influence the scheme’s decision-making environment: those points where fresh air and external scrutiny were allowed into the designs, for those outside of the Design Review Meetings.

Part two: the consultation processes

5.8 A hierarchical public consultation process In terms of public consultation, one development partner said of the process: “I think externally it might look like there were very few consultations and it was all done quickly, in reality it was actually a very thought-out process which involved as many people as it could” (development partnership 3). The consultation processes were well thought-through, primarily in terms of who was to be engaged with at different stages. As such, the public consultation was “tiered” (development partnership 1), with a “descending order” (local politician 2). It was a hierarchical programme which focused on major consultees, then invite-only stakeholders, then invite-only special consultations and then the general public – in that sequence. This raises questions about who was allowed to take part in the process, about whether boundaries were put around public participation – political participation – enabling the privileging of some voices and the exclusion of others.

5.8.1 The top tier: major consultees In this hierarchy, the top tier to be consulted over the scheme’s design were the “major consultees” (development partnership 3). The major consultees mentioned by interviewees were English Heritage (now Historic England) and CABE, and also the NWDA (North West Development Agency), although the scheme was not grant aided. Given English Heritage were also a statutory consultee in the planning

127 system, the development partners took their comments very seriously, as evidenced in the One Park West example (chapter 6). For a major consultee: “[The Liverpool One process] was a good process from our point of view ... on the whole, when we recommended changes they were definitely listened to. It was a very fair process: a sort of good collaborative process” (national regeneration organisation 1). Major consultees were involved in the design through being invited to a number of Design Review Meetings, which they regarded as a very effective design steering group. In addition, English Heritage were invited to specific pre-application discussions about particular sites and big builds. CABE, on the other hand, were not a statutory consultee in the planning system, but they were invited to occasionally attend the Design Review Meetings to engage in, support and inform the process (development partnership 1). However, given that the consultation processes were tiered, another group – a local group who represented Liverpool’s built environment – expressed their ongoing frustration that they were not on the city council’s list of major consultees for Liverpool One or any other project, which left them feeling excluded (local NGO 4). This is a problem with a hierarchical approach: it creates outsiders to that particular tier.

5.8.2 The middle tier: the stakeholders “The next tier down” (development partnership 1) was the stakeholder panel. Eleven interviewees – eight involved with the scheme design, two local academics and a representative from a local built environment lobby – discussed their differing perceptions of Grosvenor’s stakeholder approach. These ranged from being impressed by its coverage of interest groups (national regeneration organisation 2) to - conversely – being frustrated, for failing to make not only the major consultees list, but also the stakeholders list, despite their role representing a local built heritage interest group (local NGO 4). As already highlighted, a criticism of stakeholder practices is that they put margins around public participation. However, one development partner insisted that consultation processes had to be limited in this way because deadlines were so tight, but insisted they were still fair: “We streamlined it [the consultation process] because we knew we had to do that, but it was a very inclusive way of streamlining it ... I think while some people might say the process was not inclusive, I think it was very inclusive in terms of the involvement of as many people as we could” (development partnership 3). To create Liverpool One’s stakeholder panel, the city centre’s pre-existing Liverpool Vision stakeholder panel was utilised. Liverpool Vision had previously set-up this

128 panel to act as their sounding board as they produced their Strategic Regeneration Framework (SRF) (2000). This document cost £1.4 million to produce (local partnership 1). However despite this huge expenditure the consultation was not perceived to have had a very far reach. The stakeholder panel was regarded as very business orientated: “I think that the SRF, that was effectively a consultation of local political business leaders” (academic 3). This highlights an issue which has already been raised: the dividing-up of people on the basis of their perceived propriety of place and thus potentially shrinking political participation to those supporting the status quo. By utilising the existing fabric of institutional players in Liverpool city centre in this way, it could be argued that Liverpool One continued a process of privileging the most economically powerful in the city over others. While it also included organisations such as the fire service and the police, the Liverpool One stakeholder panel was referred to as “a select 200 people” (development partnership 3).

The stakeholders weren’t invited to the Design Review Meetings, but to Stakeholder Presentations instead. Here, these select 200 people were allowed to be involved in the crucial stage of the design leading to the submission of the masterplan planning application in 2001. By inviting stakeholder involvement: “the idea was [that] there should be a masterplan which was as well consulted as any masterplan in the history of masterplanning” (local partnership 1). However it is difficult to see how this could be achieved when stakeholder involvement was invite-only. As such, it was commented that: “All I am getting from it is: this is a clique of local elites figuring out the best way for capital – in other words big business – to be comfortable and run their own affairs in a city like Liverpool” (academic 4). After the masterplan gained planning permission, the Stakeholder Presentations continued, though there were varying views on how often these took place. One interviewee said monthly, three said quarterly and one thought there were “not that many” (local politician 2). However, it is clear that, throughout the outline and detailed stages, stakeholder involvement was invite-only (development partnership 4 and 6). This, for one academic was fundamentally an issue: “it is still them [Grosvenor] allowing, which I have a problem with” (academic 4) – that for something as important as exploring different potential development futures for 42.5 acres of Liverpool city centre, participation was invite-only.

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5.8.3 The lower tier: the general public In terms of the ‘will of the people’ for the future of Liverpool city centre, one development partner perceived there to be a city-wide consensus in support of Liverpool One: “The city council represents the public at large and the city council were very clear about what we wanted to achieve, which I think was broadly reflecting what the community at large wanted to achieve in the city centre” (development partnership 3). Beyond relying on the city council to represent them, this section sets out the key points in the development process where there was interaction between the developers and the general public: the third tier in the consultation hierarchy. At these points, the general public could actually seek to have an input into the scheme’s design.

5.8.4 Special consultations During the interviews, when a development partner was pressed on how the general public helped shape the project, the response was: “Erm [long silence] well, I will go back to the fact that Grosvenor ... were exemplary in terms of how they went about this. So if you talk about the general public, you would talk first of all about particular interest groups: being the disabled, the cycling lobby, literally dozens and dozens of lobbies – each of these was engaged separately by Grosvenor. They would have separate meetings, dedicated presentations. So there was a huge separate raft of/tier of meetings for those groups” (development partnership 6). These ‘special consultations’ between Grosvenor and interested parties were referred to by five interviewees, both development partners and invitees. They were characterised by the sense of being an open negotiation, while at the same time closed to just those invited. An example of a special consultation were the 12 people invited to an evening meeting at Grosvenor’s offices to discuss the street names for Liverpool One (development partnership 5 and local NGO 2).

However, one interviewee, having taken part in the special consultations recalled that, while they were not seriously alarmed by this approach, looking back, perhaps they had been too readily taken in by Grosvenor’s step-by-step handling of the process. They highlighted the fact they’d never seen this handling process tested, under pressure and, as such, they were unaware if it was actually receptive to criticism or constructive argument (local NGO 4). It could be argued that the key reason the process was not tested under pressure was that it the special

130 consultations relied on inviting and meeting with people separately. This could be perceived as a wilful effort on Grosvenor’s part to prevent people from encountering each other and coming together. This is the idea of divide and rule, that when dissipated, people have less power.

5.8.5 The public exhibition Grosvenor held a public exhibition of the proposals, Wednesday to Saturday, 9th- 12th May 2001, at the Abney Buildings in Hanover Street (Peel and Lloyd, 2008, p.380). This fell into the time period between the registration of the planning application on 17 January 2001 – when the scheme entered the formal planning arena – and outline planning permission being granted on 26 September 2002. This was a crucial period to influence the design. The public exhibition provided information about the Liverpool One plans, and the public could provide feedback. Littlefield (2009, p.244) and Taylor and Davenport (2009, p.62) reported that the masterplan was amended in October 2001 to take account of feedback from the exhibition. Regrettably no planning committee report could be found detailing any amendments at this time, and not one respondent mentioned the exhibition, still less any amendments which stemmed from it. The information is lost. This is a recurring issue with Liverpool One’s planning approach: a lack of traceable reporting.

5.8.6 Public Design Review Meetings In addition to the special consultations and the public exhibition, there were “occasional Public Design Review Meetings” (development partnership 6). However, one interviewee was adamant that to call them ‘meetings’ was a misnomer, that they were not collaborative like a meeting: “no, they were more ‘events’, like ‘public events’” (academic 1). Seven interviewees discussed the Public Design Review Meetings, four attendees and three of those involved in the scheme design. An example of a Public Design Review Meeting was an event – open to everybody – held at the Maritime Museum to discuss the design of Chavasse Park. With an estimated 200/300 people present, this felt like “genuine consultation” (consultant 3). It was put to the general public that approximately five acres had been allocated for Chavasse Park, and what did people think about the park’s name and whether its surfacing should be green or paved like a city square.

Unfortunately, especially when this was perceived as genuine consultation, when aligned in time, the Liverpool Echo reported that this event took place in October

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2004 (James, 2004). This is very late in the development cycle. It is after even the second, revised, masterplan had been granted planning permission in June 2004 (chapter 6). Referred to as the “the final, final masterplan reiteration” (development partnership 6), it included a ‘landscape masterplan’ which showed a version of Chavasse Park almost identical to what was later built. All that differs is the alignment of some paths. Indeed one interviewee, present at the meeting, lamented that Grosvenor’s consultation style was just for show, “I mean, no doubt there were people who would say it was all just theatre and Grosvenor had already decided what they wanted to do” (national regeneration organisation 2). It appears they may have been right. This raises questions around, if the design was already ‘set’, why hold meetings such as this? In democratic terms, it could be argued that Grosvenor was wasting the time of 200-300 people. Not only this, but throughout this chapter, any input from the general public which Grosvenor sought to accommodate in the design were rather mild issues: naming the streets and naming the park/the type of surfacing in the park.

5.8.7 Lobbying councillors For the public concerned about a planning application, it is also perfectly acceptable to directly approach both the planning committee councillors and the councillors for the affected ward. While planning committee councillors are required preserve their impartiality until the statutory decision-making point at the committee meeting, a ward councillor can speak freely and can address the planning committee in their capacity as a local expert. In this way, directly approaching councillors is another avenue for the general public to seek to influence the scheme design. In this light, during the interviews, when a ward councillor was asked if they had put forward the views of their constituents about Liverpool One, the reply was: “I am wary of over claiming to represent the vox pop. I am elected by people and my job is to bring my judgement to bear. And I do talk to residents and discuss their views with them quite a lot. But in something like this, you know, the idea that I could say, ‘I have been talking to the residents of [such and such] street and they have told me, ‘this is not going to happen on that site’ – no – I did not generally go like that, because it is not very helpful. And, as I have said, it was a very collaborative approach, so” (local politician 2). This quote raises questions about whether potential differences of opinion were deliberately kept out of the Design Review Meetings by councillors themselves in order to maintain the meetings’ synergy and spirit of collaboration. The

132 interviewee seemed reluctant to spoil things by introducing the views of their constituents, which potentially could have the brought differences of opinion into the room. While ‘not very helpful’, as previously highlighted, the presence of dissensus is actually ‘politics proper’.

Moreover, an account was given of the Member Working Group relying on Grosvenor to tell them the views of their own constituents, rather than the other way around – when Grosvenor led some walkabouts with residents from the surrounding communities, during which an issue was raised about the preserving of certain vistas: “I thought was an interesting example about how smart [Grosvenor] was at picking up on that. So yes ... there were those walkabouts and then ... [Grosvenor staff] would feed-in salient points from that, into the Member Working Group for people’s views – which would then be expanded upon” (local politician 2). This quote raises questions about, in partnership working, relying on the private sector to feed-in constituents’ views and the potential in this approach for the private sector to ‘gatekeep’: to decide for themselves which comments are ‘salient’ and thus reported to the Member Working Group. It could be argued that these latter two quotes illustrate an ‘evacuation’ of the properly political by politicians themselves. Collaboration with the private sector was prioritised instead.

5.8.8 The shop A decision which gained Grosvenor considerable kudos, however, was opening an “incredibly informative” (development partnership 6) shop on Lord Street. Lord Street is an extension of Church Street. Twelve interviewees discussed the shop: eight involved in the scheme design and four who called-in the shop at some point. Known as the Paradise Project Information Centre, it was open standard retailing hours, seven days a week. The shop’s main feature was a model of the scheme, which represented the masterplan and was updated as detailed planning was granted for individual buildings (Fig 5.1). People could also fill out comment forms and speak to the shop’s two staff to be kept informed about the scheme. However, the shop opened in November 2004. This is very late in the development cycle. Five days after the shop opened, work started on site. As a consequence of the timing: “People [were] coming into the shop all the time ... although we were inviting comments in, I think that if anyone had started to question the basic

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principles of Liverpool One that would have been problematic. And I think they would have received a polite, thank you for your comments, but no thanks” (development partnership 4). However, the shop was operating in the phase when the 800-plus reserved matters were gradually seeking approval at the detailed planning stage. This meant that the public did not need to be invited to comment, they had a legal right to comment through the statutory planning system. There was still scope for objections through the formal planning system until October 2008 when the last reserved matter was discharged from the matrix. In this light, the shop was viewed by one interviewee as: “A PR exercise, really, on the part of Liverpool One: trying to overcome any objections you might have by persuading you that, ‘yes, but it does cover that’ – that’s how I remember it” (local commentator 1). If the purpose of the shop was to overcome any objections as the scheme design was being developed in detail, to enable applications to be dealt with via delegated powers without significant objection, then it worked. As a development partner highlighted, at the detailed stage, “there wasn’t ... a huge amount of objection” (development partnership 3). Only one detailed application went before a full planning committee: One Park West. In this way, it could be argued that the shop was another form of gatekeeping, keeping people from more democratic processes.

Figure 5.1: The Lord Street shop (https://asenseofplace.com/2013/12/12/the-paradise-project/)

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5.10 Shadow consultations Issues with the consultation were wider than its hierarchical approach, which the rest of this chapter now examines. The fact that the shop was inviting the public to fill out comment forms when they had a legal right to comment within the formal planning arena raises the issue of the co-existence of shadow consultations alongside the statutory planning system. A key feature of Liverpool One was the use of informal “shadow consultation” processes (academic 2). Although public consultation is a role traditionally regarded as the responsibility of the local authority, shadow consultations are non-statutory processes undertaken by the developer. A development partner argued that shadow consultations were a better option because they allowed Grosvenor to curate an entire level of dialogue above and beyond what would normally happen, enabling Grosvenor to collect hundreds and hundreds of comments (development partnership 6). Another interviewee claimed that “probably tens of thousands of people” went through the shadow consultation processes (local partnership 1). Yet a key point to make is that not one interviewee could give a definite answer to what happened to the public feedback gleaned from all this. Again there is a lack of traceable reporting.

As with the feedback from the public exhibition, no committee reports could be found detailing any comments or any resultant changes to the scheme design from the shadow consultations. When asked how the planning committee received the shadow consultations feedback, one reply was “well, they [the planning committee] wouldn’t because these were discussions that the developer was having with individuals” (development partnership 3). There were no reporting mechanisms in place to convey to the planning committee what the people had to say, whereas traditionally: “The world is bad and crooked and horrible. We know that, but actually there is a mechanism to object ... and if things don’t get to that level – someone sets up some Facebook page or something – and does not actually use the system, then it won’t make a difference, really. Not unless you are lucky and you get a councillor on your side or something. But, you know, anybody can write in and object: anybody. So it does exist” (academic 2). Through the interviews it was not known how the shadow consultation feedback was dealt with. In terms of a more transparent process, if a traditional planning approach had been taken, public feedback would have taken the form of a written representation which would have been recorded and put before a minuted planning committee meeting. In addition, to enable an objector to articulate their concerns and feel they are given due weight, they would have been able to seek public

135 speaking rights at the meeting. As one academic highlighted, “even if it does not change anything in this case, it is on the record: it is there: it is a public thing” (academic 2). It would be possible, to this day, to read the relevant committee reports. Conversely, through the shadow consultation approach, the information appears to have been lost. It could be argued that this facilitates gate-keeping because it is not known which concerns were expressed, but never addressed.

5.11 Behind closed doors Given the large private sector involvement in the scheme, there may have been an expectation that Liverpool City Council would have sought to gain greater public confidence by carrying out its planning responsibilities very openly, to ensure they were being conducted fairly. Conversely the city council went behind closed doors, rejecting the traditional planning committee approach in favour of the Member Working Group/Design Review Meetings – facilitated by high levels of officer delegation. In fact, the scheme design only went before a planning committee three times: in September 2002 when outline planning permission was granted for the masterplan, when outline planning permission was granted for the revised masterplan in June 2004 and then later in October 2006 when detailed planning permission was granted for One Park West.

Five interviewees, two who represented local built environment groups, two local academics and a local consultant, relayed their concerns that negotiations took place behind closed doors: “I thought it raised questions about democracy and accountability ... about the fact that some of the debates around Liverpool One were not in the public domain ... they were relatively hidden negotiations that went on between developers and local politically interested parties” (academic 4). In defence of the planning approach, one councillor argued that negotiations were “done very, very openly and transparently – not with the public, necessarily, but within ourselves” (local politician 1). Despite these issues, however, there was a view expressed by nine interviewees, from a range of backgrounds, that various undemocratic processes and practices were permissible because, design wise, the end scheme was a good scheme (though not one objector expressed this sentiment).

The scheme’s good design helped the scheme to be perceived as doing no harm: “As a process, it is certainly a bit opaque, isn’t it? But ... it does show that the people of Liverpool, you know, they trust Liverpool One, or they are

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happy for Liverpool One to be controlled by the company who controls it at the moment because it is not seen as doing damage. But that might change if they start to come up with some horrors. So far it is such a high quality environment, relative to what was there before and relative to much of the rest of the city still. I think they [Grosvenor] are going to be given some leeway ... people do think it is in safe hands for now, definitely ... that could change. I mean you might get a different management regime or a different council regime that suddenly becomes quite oppressive in those spaces – that’s conceivable. But it hasn’t happened yet. You could say it slightly has, the way some of those funkier aspects of the scheme [the Habitat facade, Fig 7.5, chpt 7 and the FAT kiosk, Fig 8.7, chpt 8] have been eroded without any real protest or any real consultation, you can sort of see ... you know, a glint of the iron fist behind the velvet glove there ... . You can see how, suddenly, this self-policing, self-contained city state within a city could start to be some things which weren’t so good for the city” (consultant 2). Though lengthy, this quote is important as it usefully captures how a scheme like Liverpool One can be controversial, but popular – and how Grosvenor currently represents a “benevolent authority” (Goss, 1993, p.30), but these are uncertain times. Not everyone is swayed by ‘good’ design, however: “I am not interested in the fabric, even though I can appreciate that it is high quality fabric, but it [Liverpool One] raises questions about public-ness” (academic 4). In this light, it could be argued that a sense of a democratic deficit is actually being smoke screened behind high quality, ‘good design’.

5.12 A phantom firm The development partnership between Grosvenor and Liverpool City Council was not based purely on money. Two interviewees highlighted that Grosvenor’s wasn’t the best financial offer. “The reason that we appointed Grosvenor in the first place, compared to the other big developer bids, was the way in which they were prepared to work with us as a city [council]: so culture, values, ethos” (local politician 1). However, it could be argued that Grosvenor acted as a phantom firm: “they just chimed in with what the city council wanted” (consultant 3). This is what phantom firms do. Phantom firms are characterised in this way: by their capacity to deconstruct themselves in order to become dominant in contemporary society (Crouch, 2004, p.35). This raises questions about, through Liverpool One, whether Grosvenor grew in dominance in the city of Liverpool, not just through physically controlling large tracts of land, but also by embedding themselves into public policy. Only one interviewee, an academic, felt strongly about this:

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“I would argue that this is the future, at the moment, as depressing as it is, of urban regeneration: it is essentially to get enclaves. That is why we call it an enclave, it is the private sector pumping-in billions ... and then having a big role in local government” (academic 4). In terms of Grosvenor embedding itself into Liverpool in terms of public policy, there were two examples in the study. Firstly there was the revision of the UDP policies to support Grosvenor’s scheme. Secondly, through partnership working with local government, Grosvenor became positioned to benefit from public policy post-completion of Liverpool One. The adoption of the North West’s Regional Spatial Strategy in September 2008 enshrined in policy that Liverpool city centre – along with Manchester/Salford city centre – was top of the retail hierarchy in the region. This included Grosvenor’s 42.5 acres. Protected by planning policy, these city centres could not have their vitality and viability undermined by other large scale retail proposals. In this way, public policy, intended to better the welfare of the public, can be utilised by a firm like Grosvenor to achieve favourable conditions for themselves.

With public policy now protecting Grosvenor’s investment, in 2008 the firm demonstrated its growing dominance in Liverpool by objecting to another significant planning application in the city region. There were plans for a new £400m, 50,000- seater premiership football stadium for Everton, in Kirkby. In a joint venture with Tesco, the plans – which originated in 2006 – were for a stadium with 50 shops, a hotel and car parking. Obviously, Grosvenor did not want the Everton scheme. The whole point of Liverpool One is to “keep the money flowing into this part of the city” (regional regeneration organisation 2). Grosvenor did not want money flowing elsewhere. To protect retail in the city centre, both Liverpool City Council and Grosvenor objected, independently. Ironically – considering Liverpool City Council had tailored planning policy to suit the Grosvenor scheme – most of Grosvenor’s objection letter of February 2008 was based around an absence of policy support for a proposal of the scale of the Everton/Tesco scheme (Drivas Jonas, 2008). This was very much like the situation for the Liverpool One scheme, initially. In their objection, through a lengthy policy inventory, Grosvenor argued that the scheme was not plan-led. It was not envisaged by any adopted or emerging planning policy, including in the relevant UDP – Knowsley’s – and, at that time, the soon-to- be-adopted Regional Spatial Strategy. Despite the objections, Knowsley Council approved the scheme as they felt that regeneration benefits would outweigh the conflicts with planning policies. However, the scheme was later rejected in 2009, by central government, following a 2008 public inquiry. In this way, a firm,

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Grosvenor, used the state – state planning policy – to achieve favourable conditions for themselves. However, to an un-informed reader of Liverpool’s planning policy, Grosvenor’s road to dominance would be invisible, hence the term, ‘phantom’ firm.

With parallels to the way Grosvenor met with the general public separately when conducting their special consultations, of interest was the power behind 42.5 acres of city centre space when under single ownership, compared to dissipated voices across the same space. In the next chapter it will be seen that across the pre- development site concerned groups/individuals who owned land, property or interests, despite a shared cause, did not unite to object to the Liverpool One planning application. When one property owner was asked why they did not come together in a unified approach to objecting, they replied that as “you can imagine we were quite tied-up with our own building, to know what was going to happen to that” (local NGO 3). Individual objectors, separate in this way, did not appear to be as influential as Grosvenor in objecting to the Tesco/Everton scheme. Facilitated by Liverpool City Council’s land assembly powers, Grosvenor turned a 42.5 acre space previously occupied by 248 different interests/ownerships into “one thing” (national regeneration organisation 2). If that same 42.5 acres had still been a proliferation of ordinary people and ownerships, and of smaller premises/businesses, those people might not have come together and objected to the Tesco/Everton scheme in the way Grosvenor did. In this light, Crouch (2004, p.97) reminds us that “firms are not simply organizations, but concentrations of power”. Grosvenor represents a type of politicized business elite which is a minority interest, but a powerful one. Through its success at objecting to a rival development, Grosvenor demonstrated how it was more effective than the mass of ordinary people in making the political system work for them.

5.13 A can-do city There are a number of concrete planning practices highlighted in this chapter that could be considered to progressively limit democratic systems – especially when viewed collectively and aligned in time. Alternatively, these same practices could be viewed as the types of appropriate governance mechanisms that were required to effectively kick start regeneration processes (Parker and Garnell. 2006, p.294). This was the argument of Charlie Parker, Executive Director for Regeneration at Liverpool City Council (1999 to 2006). Reconfiguring planning practices to facilitate development/regeneration signifies a can-do city: “we are a can-do city ... building the whole of Liverpool One is what a can-do city does” (local partnership 1). For one academic, however, the notion of a can-do city was worrying:

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“[They said] ‘we are a can-do city’. I just said, well, what does can-do mean? ... And they said, ‘well, we can get around red tape: we can just get things done quicker: that is attractive to businesses’. So I said, ‘okay: I see what you mean: so you are not interested in public debate’. That is what they are saying to me: let’s get rid of all that stuff ... this is an exciting new time for cities because we are moving beyond red tape. You know, red tape to them means democracy” (academic 4). In response to this type of criticism, one development partner defended the process, highlighting the scheme’s awards and pointing out that “therefore the process of getting to those [awards] must have been a good process” (development partnership 3). Given that Liverpool One was held up as an exemplar in this way, this raises questions about whether utilising arguably less democratic processes really mattered, when the end result – the built environment – was award- winningly good. The awards aside, were there any far-reaching implications stemming from Liverpool One’s planning processes: did less democratic processes lead to less democratic built forms? This issue is examined in the next section, which investigates the perceived over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre.

5.14 A Cautionary Tale: the over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre Once completed, as a largely pedestrianised scheme, Liverpool One increased the overall traffic-free area of Liverpool city centre. While respondents were not asked a question about pedestrianisation, four interviewees, all involved in the scheme design or the design of Liverpool city centre generally, referred to this process of pedestrianisation as creating the walkable city. As such, they viewed it positively. In contrast, six other interviewees (three with limited mobility, two involved in the scheme design and one interviewee who had previously shopped for hardware in the area) felt that, through the completion of Liverpool One, Liverpool city centre now had problems which stemmed from being over-pedestrianised. For the three interviewees with limited mobility, over-pedestrianisation meant that Liverpool city centre was the opposite of walkable because it had expanded into a space so large it could no longer be penetrated from the edge. It was emphasized this was particularly an issue for those with limited mobility who relied on the bus.

As already highlighted, before Liverpool One, the bus station (Fig 4.17, chapter 4) stood in a central location, where Debenhams now stands. The bus station “was in exactly the right place for everybody” (local NGO 2). However, it had to be moved because of the challenges of accommodating the weight of a bus station atop the scheme’s underground parking/servicing. It now stands between The Hilton and

140 the police headquarters, an area sometimes identified as being the back of Liverpool One (chapter 7). In this way, bus routes are only to reach Liverpool One, rather than go through it (Fig 5.2). In addition to the weight issue, the total pedestrianisation of the space also inevitably pushed a bus station to the periphery, along with any other vehicular movement. Taxis, for example, were unable to drive into the scheme to drop off/pick up customers with limited mobility directly outside a shop. In these ways, two interviewees involved in the scheme design recognised that wholesale pedestrianisation had caused problems and felt it was old-fashioned thinking. Liverpool One was contrasted with Birmingham city centre which had a protracted way of allowing for vehicular movement.

Additionally, one interviewee highlighted that over-pedestrianisation had limited the type of shop that could locate Liverpool city centre, including Liverpool One. For example, a shop like Rapid Hardware, formerly on Renshaw Street was brought up by two online survey participants and seven interviewees – mainly built environment professionals and those working in the promotion of commerce. It was widely admired as a local, home-grown Liverpudlian store, but it could not survive when it moved – arguably unwisely – into a more central, but pedestrianised area. This was because buying hardware often required the use of a car. In this way, certain types of business were automatically excluded from a scheme like Liverpool One.

While debating the merits of pedestrianisation in the face of these issues, one interviewee involved in the scheme design, made the revelation that – ultimately – full pedestrianisation with no vehicular access was necessary not for achieving walkability, but to enable shop windows to remain shutterless at night. The shops’ insurers – because of ram-raiding – wanted shutters, but both the city council and Grosvenor did not. They wanted the scheme to feel pleasant after dark, so people would walk through it, and it was feared that night-time shutters would impact negatively on the whole atmosphere of the place. With the help of the local police design and liaison staff, the shops’ insurers were eventually convinced that the full pedestrianisation of the streets, with no vehicular access, would mean no ram raiders and therefore no need for shutters.

Despite this care over the scheme after dark, only two interviewees, both consultants, mentioned that they, personally, used the scheme at this time. For them, when night fell on Liverpool One, the scheme took-on a certain eerie atmosphere. For one, the lack of traffic made the streets so quiet it was possible to

141 hear people’s conversations, making the space not threatening, but not as comfortable as it should have been. For the other, the streets, being singular shopping environments, were deserted at night as there was no reason for anyone to go there. This they found unnerving: “You wonder, if anyone wanted to hang around – and if anyone attacked you – would this be seen? Would anyone see you? I’m sure you’ll be on CCTV but it just doesn’t feel, for me – because of the particular way they’ve stacked the uses [having pure retail at street level] – it doesn’t feel safe to me at certain times of the night. The deadness does put me off. I just think, can I be bothered going through ... it’s quite a big area where there’s nothing happening ... and that’s off-putting, that’s off-putting” (consultant 1). While some passing night time traffic could have provided informal surveillance, despite the development partners’ ambition for the scheme which felt pleasant after dark, Liverpool One is in danger of being a two-shift district: alive during the day and dead at night – a situation complicated, rather than straightforwardly enhanced, by pedestrianisation.

The perceived over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre is an example a design decision made about shutterless windows, where the ramifications of this decision have been far reaching. However, in retrospect it seems obvious that moving the bus station to the periphery, while at the same increasing the number of traffic-free streets in Liverpool city centre, was going to make accessibility difficult for some people with limited mobility. This raises questions about would these issues have been foreseen if the consultation process had been more fully open to the public, rather than hierarchical and invite-only – especially in the earlier, crucial masterplanning stages.

During the interviews, when a development partner was asked how those involved in the scheme design had gathered local insights, it emerged that the knowledge of Liverpool’s particularities had been ‘stakeholdered’. The city council set-up LUDCAP (Liverpool Urban Design and Conservation Advisory Panel), which included lay members and architects, to provide “local expertise” (development partnership 3). Yet the problems relating to over-pedestrianising Liverpool city centre were missed. The fact that the core of Liverpool was now inaccessible to a number of its citizens could be considered a significant civic failing of Liverpool One.

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Figure 5.2: the perceived over-pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre (Base map: http://wikimapia.org/2177500/Liverpool-One)

5.15 Conclusion At the outset of this chapter, an interest was expressed in who benefitted most from Liverpool One’s innovative approaches to planning. While unable to pinpoint exactly how, one consultant involved in the Design Review Meetings and the scheme design, certainly felt like a beneficiary of the approach: “In many ways [it] went like clockwork ... and all those of us involved in it got what we wanted with effectively no real compromise ... no compromises, no compromises at all – it is masterful. I am not even sure how it was done” (consultant 3). The findings of this chapter suggest that ‘it was done’, primarily, via systems of foreclosing and gatekeeping which largely prevented contentious issues/debates from entering the planning/design of the scheme. Given the starting point for the scheme was a roofless, wall-less mall, its primary concerns would – arguably – have been those relating to shopping and image. While people were having fun at the Design Review Meetings, this was a major urban-scale development, which raises questions about how a range of urban issues largely appeared to fail to cross the scheme’s ‘foyers’ and enter its 42.5 acre space. When examined under a

143 postpolitical lens, the scheme’s planning mechanisms seemed to help by working to keep such a narrow focus for the scheme.

Foreclosing was maintained by keeping decision-making to a small, elite group at the Design Review Meetings. When external influences were allowed to see the designs, a hierarchical approach to public consultation was put in place, tiered from major consultees, to a select 200 stakeholders, to the last tier: the general public. This potentially kept opportunities for public debate to a minimum, especially as the ‘special consultations’ with the general public relied on inviting and meeting with people separately. This could be perceived as a wilful effort on Grosvenor’s part to prevent people from meeting each other and potentially joining forces to comment on the scheme. When dissipated, people have less power.

Foreclosure, however, would not have been able to operate without gatekeepers across both the ‘masterplanned-outline’ and the ‘delegated-detailed’ planning stages. For example, gatekeepers decided which select 200 people to include on the stakeholder list. Gatekeepers staffed the shadow consultation processes, choosing which design issues to prioritise. Gatekeeping included the way Grosvenor, not councillors, fed-in the ‘salient’ views of the constituents regarding the scheme into the Design Review Meetings. Gatekeeping was also observed in the actions of the councillors themselves, who seemed reluctant to spoil the atmosphere of the Design Review Meetings by introducing the potentially different views of their constituents. Collaboration with the private sector appeared to be prioritised instead. At the detailed stage, gatekeeping continued with the planners who, through the high levels of officer delegation, utilised the Scheme of Delegation to decide which comments should go before the planning committee. Gatekeeping was also suspected to be at work in the shop, pacifying objectors and steering their comments into the shadow consultation arena rather than the statutory planning system. In these ways, it appears that foreclosing and gatekeeping practices effectively evacuated planning’s formerly political spaces.

Throughout, it was difficult to say if gatekeeping was actually happening because the scheme was characterised by a lack of traceable reporting. In this way, it is not known if valid concerns were raised, but not addressed through the project. While Liverpool One’s innovative approaches to planning allowed for a fast pace, it was significant that they failed to fully consider issues like the risk of over- pedestrianising Liverpool city centre. With this ongoing problem, issues relating to democracy did not end with untraceable paperwork and a planning process which

144 ceased in 2008. It could be claimed that a lasting legacy of less democratic consultation processes are less democratic built environments, apparent in the concerns about over-pedestrianisation. Despite these shortcomings, however, Liverpool One demonstrates how a scheme can be controversial, but popular, because of its high quality design. It could be argued that smoke screened behind high quality, ‘good design’, though, were both a sense of a democratic deficit and Grosvenor’s manoeuvres as a ‘phantom firm’ – embedding itself within public policy to protect its investment and using this position to object to rival schemes elsewhere in the city.

Through the largely institutional analysis presented in this chapter, it seems that the reconfiguration of planning mechanisms was actually, primarily, to facilitate a frictionless, ‘clockwork’ planning process. However, not covered by this chapter are those people who did actually cause friction: they entered the formal planning arena and objected to the masterplan/detailed applications. These efforts are covered in the next chapter: ‘Mobilising Resistance’.

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Chapter Six Mobilising resistance

6.1 Introduction This chapter continues to identify how key design moves and decisions were mediated at the local level, with a particular interest in how people mobilised resistance to the scheme via the statutory planning system. In terms of mobilising resistance, four interviewees highlighted how combative Liverpudlians could be, how “bolshie” (academic 4) or “stroppy” (local commentator 1). Indeed, “one thing about Liverpool is that people always have an opinion and that people are not shy in coming forward and telling you what that opinion is” (development partnership 4). Yet against this backdrop, it may come as a surprise that only eight representations were made by non-shy people expressing an opinion about the scheme via the statutory planning system. There were nine, actually, including a person seeking reassurance that a grave would remain in place within the scheme, as there is, on the periphery of the development, part of a former church yard which is now a memorial garden. Other than the grave, there were four components of the scheme which people objected to formally and went before the planning committee. These were The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House and the Quiggins premises, on 26 September 2002 (Liverpool City Council, 2002) when outline planning permission was granted for the masterplan. Then later, on 24 October 2006, the detailed application for One Park West went before a planning committee because English Heritage had warned that they would object if their concerns about the building’s height weren’t addressed (Liverpool City Council, 2006). While they didn’t actually object, however, two members of the public did.

At this point, it is important to note that the number of statutory objections are complicated by the fact that, in February 2004 Grosvenor were forced, reluctantly, to submit a revised planning application (with an updated masterplan) which dealt with specific changes to the south-west corner of the scheme, primarily regarding the final site for the bus station after an agreement was reached with Merseytravel. The revised application was granted planning permission in June 2004 (Liverpool City Council, 2004). When it went before the planning committee, the original objections were appended to the accompanying committee report, as well as any new objections to the revised masterplan (development partnership 3). The planning committee report shows that verbal representations were made again from two objectors, each fighting to save The Oldest House and the Quaker Meeting

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House, which were not demolished until 2006. There were no fresh objectors, despite the fact the whole scheme was resubmitted, not just the south-west corner.

While the second masterplan needs noting, for the purposes of the study, the interest is in the processes around the 2001 application, as it was not known at that time that revisions would result in a second, 2004, submission. Despite the two objectors to the 2004 masterplan, the study maintains that there were still only six different objectors at the masterplan stage (and two objectors at the detailed stage) because the two objectors to the 2004 masterplan were repeat objectors from 2002. With this clarified, the chapter now investigates how resistance was mobilised to four components of the scheme – The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House, Quiggins and One Park West – by treating each building as a small case study. As with the previous chapter, analysis is conducted under a postpolitical lens. To finish, the chapter then examines the various viewpoints on why so few people objected to the scheme.

6.2 The Oldest House The Minutes from the City Council’s Planning Committee meeting on 26 September 2002 show that three sets of objectors made representations in relation to the proposed demolition of The Oldest House: the Merseyside Civic Society, Save Our City Campaign and a local architect. Ten interviewees – five involved in the scheme design and five not involved – discussed The Oldest House. The Oldest House, as it was known locally, stood at 31 Hanover Street and was described as a small, plain, early Georgian house and a rather non-descript shell (Fig 6.1, and today Fig 6.2). Even those who fought to integrate the house into the scheme described it as a very neglected and shabby building. In response to requests by the local built heritage lobby, English Heritage had twice declined to list the building because it had been so altered over its many years of use. However, uniquely, it had a slightly crooked lane at the back – an old court – with a sign overhead that stated the court number, which linked with the two listed, College Lane warehouses, which were refurbished as part of Liverpool One (Fig 4.2 and 4.3, chpt 4). This was the old way. Merchants began small and lived in close proximity to their warehouse. As all three components had survived – the merchant’s house, the warehouse and the interconnecting court (Fig 6.3) – the objectors felt the house was very important. It was understood to be the only example left anywhere in Liverpool. The house was also a “very famous Georgian house” (academic 2) because, as the name suggests, it was thought to be the oldest house in Liverpool. It was thought to date from 1720. It was also interesting because of the history of

147 its ownership. It was believed to be the home of the Liverpool merchant, Joseph Brookes, whose stowage plans for his slave ship Brookes, built in Liverpool in 1781, were meticulously documented and became a well-known cross section image of the overcrowded conditions of a slave ship (Fig 6.4).

Figure 6.1: The Oldest House, 2005 Figure 6.2: 31 Hanover Street, 2017. (Photographer: Joe McCoughlin, Liverpool The crooked lane was retained (left)

Record Office, Liverpool Libraries) (Photographer: V. Lawson)

Figure 6.3: House, interconnecting Figure 6.4: Stowage plans for the

court and two warehouses (Base plan: slave ship Brookes Liverpool City Council, 2005, p.8) (https://ageofsail.wordpress.com/ 2009/03/22/britain-and-slavery/) 148

Three development partners gave a number of reasons why they did not want to keep The Oldest House. They accepted that historically, yes, The Oldest House was significant, but architecturally the house itself was of no particular merit. The facade had been changed so many times it was regarded as completely meaningless. “It certainly wasn’t listed” was the planning perspective on the matter (development partnership 3). Ultimately it was believed that the scheme was stronger and better for omitting The Oldest House because its location conflicted with the masterplan. It stood at a point – Site 3 – which was designated as Multi-level Unit Shopping. Site 3 stretched from 31 Hanover Street to the corner of College Lane, creating a triangular-shaped building which needed emphasising as a prominent corner site. The presence of The Oldest House would have spoilt the coherency of the design.

Two of the three who gave representations to seek to save The Oldest House were interviewed. To mobilise resistance, the objectors initially relied on verbally communicating their concerns at the Public Design Review Meetings organised by Grosvenor, which they had seen advertised. They were not invited to the stakeholder meetings. Although some fellow objectors were too shy to speak out, on the whole, having verbally communicated the historical importance of The Oldest House, the objectors felt satisfied when Grosvenor promised to take a closer look at the building. The objectors were therefore taken by surprise at a later Public Design Review Meeting when an architect presented the proposals for the area, which made it clear that The Oldest House wasn’t included. In this way, the objectors came to feel that, at these Public Design Review Meetings, “we were allowed to have our say and they [Grosvenor] would listen to you very politely, but were going to do what they wanted to do” (local NGO 2). Feeling that they had failed completely to communicate why The Oldest House mattered, a further meeting was organised directly with Grosvenor: “I thought that if we could give enough information about why we thought it [The Oldest House] was important, what we thought could be done with it and how interesting it could be – the fact that it’s different from the other things – but it made no difference, they had made up their minds” (local NGO 2). At the meeting the objectors learnt that the building could not stay because Grosvenor wanted a consistent scale along Hanover Street, which a smaller building like The Oldest House would interrupt. On this, “Grosvenor were adamant and they just wouldn’t budge ... talk about granite” (local NGO 2).

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However, as one development partner pointed out, if objectors felt Grosvenor had not listened to their concerns, once the scheme entered the formal planning arena, via the submission of an actual planning application, then they would have been able to comment on The Oldest House again (development partnership 3). This is misleading, though, as it suggests the process was sequential: that the shadow consultations happened first, followed by opportunities to comment through the statutory planning system. Yet the previous chapter demonstrated that only the major consultees and the select 200 stakeholders had two opportunities to comment in this way: both before and after the masterplan planning application.

However, during the interview, the objector was asked if they’d objected to the scheme through the statutory planning system. The objector said that dealing with Grosvenor left them too jaded to fight to save The Oldest House through the formal planning arena. They couldn’t see the point: “I haven’t the energy anymore, to pursue things like that” (local NGO 2). Given their jadedness, the objector was asked if they wished, in retrospect, they had devoted their energy solely into the statutory planning processes and used established channels for communicating the importance of The Oldest House to the planning committee and ward councillors. It was suggested that this might have been a better use of their time and resources than dealing with Grosvenor through shadow consultations. However, they said they thought they had statutorily objected, by speaking out at Grosvenor’s Public Design Review Meetings, plus that: “I don’t even think there was a planning application, I just realised that this [The Oldest House] was likely to go once I saw that presentation that the architect for that area had produced” (local NGO 2). However, the planning committee report from September 2002 showed that this particular objector did write to the city council and was given speaking rights at the September 2002 planning committee meeting where the masterplan gained outline planning permission. Their representation had no effect and The Oldest House was later demolished.

6.3 The Quakers The minutes from the City Council’s Planning Committee meeting on 26 September 2002 show that representatives from the Quakers made a deputation in relation to the proposed demolition of the Quaker Meeting House. Four interviewees were able to discuss the Quaker Meeting House – three involved in the scheme design and one objector – which stood in a terrace at 65 Paradise Street, joined on its northern side to the BBC and Herbert the Hairdresser (Fig 6.5). The Quakers were

150 interesting because of their determination to keep their freehold, which they did, even though they were relocated elsewhere within the scheme. They are now the only true freehold on the Liverpool One site (development partnership 1). They were determined to keep their freehold so they would be free to protest on their own premises. “The reason we wanted to keep our freehold is because if we wanted to, say, object to something – stand out on the pavement and object to ... the bombing of Syria or something – and it was leasehold, they [Grosvenor] could tell us ‘no, you cannot do that here’ ... [but with a freehold] then we can do what we want” (local NGO 3). In fact, their former premises in Paradise Street had studs in front which marked out their freehold area on the pavement: “the idea being that we could actually have some banners or something outside and nobody could object” (local NGO 3). This is similar to the debate in the previous chapter whereby Grosvenor were perceived to be the ones to ‘allow’ political participation in exploring different development futures for 42.5 acres of city centre space.

Figure 6.5: The Paradise Street terrace, 2005. The Quaker Meeting House was joined on its northern side to BBC Radio Merseyside and Herbert the Hairdresser (blue canopy) (Photographer: Joe McCoughlin, Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Now – post-completion – again Grosvenor were the ones to ‘allow’, by saying whether an act was acceptable or not. This raises one of the key debates about Liverpool One, that behaviour in its spaces has to be vetted by Grosvenor:

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“Even though there are, you know, no big, heavy security guards and floodlights – it is not Stalag 17 [a 1953 film which tells the story of a group of American airmen held in a prisoner of war camp], I know that, but it is also a place which is relatively restrictive in terms of the behaviours that can take place in there ... and that says a lot to me” (academic 4). However on the subject of ‘allowing’, while some saw a city centre space, Grosvenor, as already highlighted, saw a shopping centre: “We came at it a different way, in terms of what are all the good things about a shopping centre environment? Well, you control everything in your front door, you control your own environment, you are a bit of a master of your own destiny” (development partnership 1). With Grosvenor’s focus on control/being masters of their own destiny, the Quakers were disappointed that they had not thought of the city centre holistically enough. Rather than viewing the site as a potential shopping centre environment, the Quakers would have liked some value being put on the fact they were the only church still in existence in the city centre. Objectors to the demolition of The Oldest House felt the same, that Grosvenor were predictably commercially-minded and didn’t look at the city centre holistically. They felt Grosvenor was just interested in making the area a place where people would spend money, whereas the objectors wanted to see non-commercial uses within the scheme.

However, thinking un-holistically about the Liverpool One site also stemmed from Liverpool Vision. They had effectively zoned the city centre in 2001, designating the area where Liverpool One stands as the ‘Retail Core’. This creation of zones, or urban quarters, enabled a compartmentalised rather than holistic approach to development: “[Liverpool One] was to make money. The backdrop to this, I should explain, is Liverpool Vision did a strategic masterplan [the Strategic Regeneration Framework] of the city centre overall, which was very much zoned: so this [Liverpool One] is retail ... so it was never conceived that this zone would have other functions [other than retail] in there at all” (local politician 2). This relates to an issue raised in the previous chapter: that of ‘foreclosing’. In this example, it could be argued that zoning/quartering is actually a postpolitical mechanism in that it enables the foreclosure of the urban/social issues that will be addressed in a particular ‘zone’ or ‘quarter’. In this way, Liverpool Vision’s zoning/quartering paved the way for an outdoor mall development, but when the zoning/quartering approach was challenged – generally, not specifically to the Quakers – the reply was:

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“If the guys are upset about this, go do something interesting somewhere else ... make your own quarter, but this [Liverpool One] quarter has to change” (local partnership 1). As highlighted in the quote, quartering – thinking about cities as isolated categories – can be a useful way of spatial ordering to bring about urban change. However quartering can potentially be utilised to side-step urban/social issues that are regarded to be not applicable, not relevant, to that particular quarter: the future of a church in a retail zone for example. Quartering can create an ease with which to dismiss various, valid concerns and, as such, some caution is required in its application.

6.3.1 The negotiations Grosvenor approached the Quakers very, very early on in the scheme and took them out for tea in a hotel to tell them about their proposals to demolish their Meeting House (local NGO 3). However Grosvenor was to quickly learn that the Quakers had a very strong objection, as this was not the first time their city centre Meeting House had been CPOed to make way for a comprehensive regeneration scheme. In 1946 they had settled behind the Walker Art Gallery, but their Meeting House was compulsorily acquired and demolished in 1967 to make way for the Shankland Plan ’s proposed new urban motorway. They did not, however, have anywhere to move to, and for some time they had to meet in the basement of the Anglican Cathedral. In fact, for the next 15 years they never had their own Meeting House, until 1982 when they acquired a new site in Paradise Street. When it was proposed that this Paradise Street building would also be CPOed – having learnt from past mistakes – they decided that this time they would not move from their site if they had nowhere to go. This is why they insisted on having their new Meeting House in School Lane physically built before they moved from Paradise Street. In addition, apart from their time in the Anglican Cathedral’s basement: “We have always had freehold sites for the Meeting House in the centre of Liverpool for about 300 years and we were determined to keep that. And we have, in fact, in the end. But it took years and years ... [when we entered the CPO inquiry] half of you knows it is a foregone conclusion, that however much you fight it, you are not going to win. But you somehow feel you have got to, in order to feel, well, at least we tried” (local NGO 3). So strong was their objection that the Quakers objected both to the planning proposals and the CPO, employing a QC for the inquiry. They also had an ex town planner in the group and the original architect of the Paradise Street Meeting House. He felt very vehemently that there should be equivalent reinstatement, and

153 encouraged the Quakers to secure this. Equivalent reinstatement included car parking, so the new School Lane Meeting House has some ground floor car parking because the Paradise Street Meeting House had, in accordance with the Shankland Plan, parking throughout ground floor with a first floor walkway/access (Fig 6.6). At the time, this was intended to end the entanglement of motorists and pedestrians. Grosvenor even arranged for the BBC to lease car-parking space, to secure the Quakers some income, which had been an informal arrangement between the two in Paradise Street: “Grosvenor fixed all that up – which we were slightly taken aback by” (local NGO 3). In this way, Grosvenor was respectful of organic processes at play in the area.

The Quakers were approached so early in the scheme because Grosvenor needed to relocate the Quakers and their neighbours the BBC and Herbert the Hairdresser out of the central areas of the proposed scheme. These Paradise Street properties occupied future prime retail sites, especially the Meeting House which was located directly opposite where John Lewis now stands. This is also why there was urgency about clearing peripheral buildings like The Oldest House, to enable the relocations from central areas to commence (development partnership 3). Aware that the Quakers and Quiggins (more of which in the next section) were going to mount a legal challenge to their CPOs, Grosvenor relentlessly pursued potential anchor stores, aware that they could not seek to take people’s land unless they had a viable scheme (Littlefield, 2009, p.97). As such, John Lewis was signed for Liverpool One by October 2003. With this in place, “Grosvenor were so determined to get our Meeting House, you know, that in the end they said, ‘okay: if you move you can still have freehold’” (local NGO 3). In this way, through the Quakers’ prime position opposite John Lewis, the new School Lane Meeting House is now the only freehold on the site. To this day, Grosvenor says that they take their hat off to the Quakers, for the way a fairly small minority group managed to secure their relocation: “To be fair ... the Quakers were the only people who were prepared to stand up and have a constructive debate with us over the CPO and relocation, and put together quite a strong case for not being moved” (development partnership 1). To be fair, The Oldest House also appeared to have a strong case, yet it was demolished. The success of the Quakers clearly stems from the fact their prime Paradise Street location opposite John Lewis was a powerful bargaining tool. Also, while unsuccessful in objecting to the planning proposals, were able to remain in

154 the debate for longer because they could afford legal expertise in the form of a QC for the CPO inquiry.

Although they were annoyed that their Paradise Street building was only 24 years old when it was demolished in 2006, for the Quakers, they felt the move to School Lane was not entirely a bad thing for them (Fig 6.7). They got up-to-date disabled facilities, they opened a cafe to take advantage of the School Lane footfall which is higher than the pre-redevelopment Paradise Street and they benefit from Grosvenor’s higher street cleaning standards, even though they are not part of the head lease. In addition, in the interviews, non-Quakers admired the premises both internally and externally. Inside were really nice spaces that could be used by others, like a community space, while its adjacent peace garden was a pleasant space to sit, and unique to the concept of a shopping centre (academic 2). However, the Quakers were disappointed that, for security reasons, their new Meeting House had to be rather fortress-like, and not as welcoming as they would have liked – while accepting that they are in the city centre of Liverpool.

Figure 6.6: The former Quaker Meeting Figure 6.7: The new School Lane House in Paradise Street (Courtesy of the Meeting House, 2017 (Photographer: Liverpool Friends) V. Lawson)

6.4 Quiggins The Minutes from the City Council’s Planning Committee meeting on 26 September 2002 show that representatives and tenants of Quiggins made a deputation in relation to the future of the Quiggins business. Quiggins opened in 1988 and soon

155 became known for its stalls catering for small art, crafts, antiques, tattoos, piercings and clothing businesses, as well as for local music. It became known as an alternative shopping centre and also a creative hub and a meeting place: “it had the great cafe at the top” (local commentator 2). It was a quirky place, with quite a following, to the extent it had become regarded as part of Liverpool culture. Housed in the 1866 Palatine House and adjacent warehouse premises (Fig 6.8), the Quiggins premises stretched to fill a whole frontage of Peter’s Lane, between School Lane and College Lane. The proposals outlined that, while the Palatine House was to remain, the warehouses were to be demolished. However the business of Quiggins was to be removed from the site. Twenty seven respondents – 22 interviewees, from a range of backgrounds, and five survey participants – discussed Quiggins.

Figure 6.8: Quiggins, Peter’s Lane, 2005. Palatine House (cream-coloured facade) could remain, but the attached red-brick warehouses were to be demolished (Photographer: Joe McCoughlin, Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

Within the buildings there were almost 50 stalls that employed roughly 250 people. Given many of those involved with the stalls were self-employed, Quiggins seemed to be the type of development the city council would want to support. As such, there was an expectation that Liverpool City Council would seek to retain Quiggins, in their role as development partners: “Places like Quiggins, they were genuine entrepreneurs in there, in the sense of they were trying to establish, albeit small scale, businesses – doing unusual

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things, which involve them being creative. So yes, I could have seen a space for that [incorporated into Liverpool One] and people were quite optimistic at the time, but it was clear that that was not going to happen – quite quickly” (academic 4). It ‘quickly’ became apparent that the business of Quiggins had to be removed because, through the masterplan and the reconfiguring of urban space, Quiggins had shifted from occupying an ‘edge’ city centre retail location, to a location that was considered absolutely critical to the project. Its location was critical because, as three development partners explained, the foundations of Liverpool One masterplan were built on potential footfall. As the starting point, the masterplanning process looked at the number of people walking down Church Street, Liverpool’s main shopping street and how these people could be deflected into the scheme.

6.4.1 Quiggins and the punch-through arcade Overall the masterplan was based on the principle that a retail circuit is strongest in a triangle, with a layout centred around creating an active walking circuit between three anchor stores, as people would go from one to another. In this way, the anchor stores generated the strength of the circuit, with the overall aim of achieving equal strength all the way around the triangle. This strength would give the scheme its rental tone, and its rental tone would, in turn, determine the scheme’s commercial viability. In terms of achieving equal strength, tone and commercial viability, a business like Quiggins was perceived as a weak link. Moreover, given that Quiggins had traded successfully before on the edge, Grosvenor argued that they could be successfully relocated to the scheme’s peripheries or somewhere outside of the scheme (development partnership 5).

The location of Quiggins was not just critical, but so very critical because originally the three anchor stores were to be all within the Liverpool One scheme itself. However, Grosvenor could not attract a third anchor, so Marks and Spencer’s on Church Street became the third anchor instead. This was good news for the city council who hoped this would help the benefits of Liverpool One spill over into the existing retail core. As such, there is a Section 106 agreement accompanying the Liverpool One planning permission which states that Marks and Spencer’s and John Lewis cannot both be located within the Liverpool One scheme. However, if the masterplanners could not get the triangular connectivity between Marks and Spencer’s and the rest of the scheme to work, the retail circuit would have been more of a dumbbell arrangement between John Lewis and Debenhams, and Church

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Street would have died (development partnership 2). In this way, deflecting people from Church Street/Marks and Spencer’s through into Peter’s Lane and the scheme was crucial. However, given an existing block stood between Church Street and Peter’s Lane, it was decided the solution was to punch through this block and create a new arcade – Keys Court.

At the end of this new punch-through arcade, however, would stand Quiggins: “right where the punters come in” (development partnership 5) (Fig 6.9 and 6.10). The problem was that Quiggins was essentially for people who were interested in cheap culture (academic 4), while through the redevelopment, Peter’s Lane was to become the high-end area of the scheme, a space where aspirational boutiques would locate. It was feared that the presence of Quiggins could impact negatively on potential footfall, especially, as highlighted by five interviewees – predominately by local commentators – because it was a place associated with Emos, Goths and Moshers who tended to hang around outside. Despite these concerns, however, for many people Quiggins – being something of a treasure trove – was one of the best shopping experiences Liverpool offered.

Furthermore, to create the punch-through arcade, Grosvenor had bought the old HMV building “which cost Grosvenor an awful lot of money: a figure of £30-£40 million springs to mind – a very, very expensive thing” (development partnership 6). For a comparator, the BHS building further along the same street sold for £17 million in 2015. Grosvenor took a risk, paying so much money for a design idea that may not work, but they believed the punch-through arcade was an essential connection for the project to succeed. “You could argue the scheme couldn’t have happened without them [Quiggins] moving: it was that critical” (development partnership 6). After such great expense, the punch-through arcade had to attract people from Church Street to walk through it and into the scheme. It could not fail, and therefore it could not terminate at Quiggins.

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Figure 6.9: Palatine House, 2005 and the Figure 6.10: The punch-through arcade and rear of the HMV building (Photographer: Palantine House (Photographer: V. Lawson) Joe McCoughlin, Liverpool Record Office,

Liverpool Libraries)

Quiggins differed from The Oldest House and the Quaker Meeting House because Palatine House, a key part of its premises, could stay. Like The Oldest House, Palatine House wasn’t listed or within a conservation area. However, its attractive frontage was identified as ‘valuable’ in the masterplan and something Grosvenor very much wanted to retain (development partnership 6) (Fig 6.11). As such, the building could stay, but the business of Quiggins had to go. As an outdoor mall development Grosvenor needed control of both the internal and external spaces. Quiggins occupancy of their buildings presented a lot of unknowns, especially, it was perceived, in light of the two brothers who owned Quiggins: “Was the operator of the sort of mindset that could have sat in harmony in a large, multi-occupied, managed environment? I don’t think so” (development partnership 1). Despite the fact they had apparently successfully traded since 1988, through the outdoor mall-ing process of city centre spaces, Quiggins became regarded as unpredictable. Keeping a space like Quiggins would have been “like keeping a nest of vipers in terms of potential risks that could nip up and bite you at any stage” (consultant 3). More than this, it was argued by three interviewees – all built

159 environment professionals – that if Quiggins had stayed under the new head lease, Grosvenor would have simply priced-out its small business enterprises. They would have been unable to meet the increased rental costs. Given the size of the investment Grosvenor had put in, and the returns they needed to make on that investment, Quiggins would not be commercially strong enough to be able to deliver the returns Grosvenor needed to see.

Figure 6.11: The attractive facade of Quiggins/Palantine House (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quiggins)

6.4.2 A cause célèbre of a displacement argument By September 2002, when outline planning permission was approved to part demolish/part restore their premises, Quiggins had spent 15 months collecting signatures for a petition for their business to remain. This had no impact on the decision of the planning committee. Quiggins, however, continued their campaign and, along the way, became a cause célèbre of a displacement argument (Fig 6.12). Like the Quakers, their next step was to oppose the CPOs which the city council promoted in March 2003. The CPO Inquiry ran from November 2003 to January 2004. The city council/Grosvenor argued how critical the location of Quiggins was to the triangular retail circuit. Quiggins argued their contribution to Liverpool life including jobs, culture, vitality and diversity – and that Quiggins was continuing the Liverpool tradition of contributing to popular and youth culture which had been defining Liverpool's place in the world over the last 40 years (Kelly, 2003). The Inspector found in favour of the of the city council/Grosvenor

160 partnership, agreeing that, in order to succeed, the development must be comprehensive and not piecemeal and that Quiggins could not be left out of the demolition programme.

Figure 6.12: Quiggins became the cause célèbre of a displacement argument (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

However Quiggins kept on fighting, having a 50,000 signature petition presented to the House of Commons in March 2004 (Jones and Wilks-Heeg, 2004, p.354). They also threatened a High Court action to appeal against the CPO decision (Littlefield, 2009, p.103). The issue was that a CPO was only to be undertaken for ‘public benefit’. The petition was believed to have ratcheted up to 150,000 signatures, before the owners of Quiggins eventually dropped their fight (although it was not possible to find out why: Quiggins were one of the letters returned – undelivered – by the Royal Mail, after which point the owners proved impossible to trace). They had always refused relocation packages and had insisted on staying put. Eventually, still determined not take a relocation package, they took a financial deal instead and Quggins closed in July 2006. A number of the stall owners re-opened at the Grand Central Hall in Renshaw Street, under the banner ‘Quiggins at Grand Central’, retaining the alternative shopping ethos. However they later dropped ‘Quiggins’ from their title after one of the Quiggins brothers became a significant figure in the Merseyside BNP.

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After being displaced, given that Quiggins-type activities moved to another part of the city, seven interviewees from various backgrounds and two online survey participants wondered what all the fuss was about: “so, what was the big deal?” (development partnership 5). In fact one interviewee and one online survey respondent felt that Quiggins was better suited to trading in an edge location, rather than the mainstream retail area Peter’s Lane had become. On the other side of the argument though, it was asked why did Grosvenor fuss so much? Quiggins was still shopping/commerce. It represented a stage on a shopper’s continuum: the people in Quiggins at 18 are the same people found in Cath Kidston at 35 (academic 2). Indeed fifteen respondents, two online survey participants and 13 interviewees – including three development partners – listed a number of reasons why Quiggins would have been beneficial to Liverpool One.

Primarily, two of the development partners, along with nine others – believed that the finished scheme lacks an alternative niche, an 'independent' quarter, and Quiggins staying would have given an extra edge to Liverpool One which it is now trying to find: “I mean, the thing about youth culture and everything else – they are actually trying to get that: the quirkiness, you know ... it does appeal to a certain demographic and I think Quiggins staying there would have helped that process enormously because it could tap-into that pre-existing condition [quirkiness]. I don’t think it was fully appreciated and I think it is a lost opportunity” (development partnership 4). More than a lost opportunity, given its quirkiness and its Liverpool following, the removal of Quiggins was regarded as a defeat by one academic: “That was a defeat, and it was a PR defeat as well. It was an easy win, but it was one which they gave away. I mean, they probably could have kept that [Quiggins] there and ... they would have been – you know – in heaven probably: ‘Look at this incredible scheme. It is an amazing design, it is this, that, and the other AND it was sensitive to the existing culture’, then BANG you are going to get some award for something else” (academic 2). In fact four interviewees, none of whom were involved in the scheme design, highlighted that removing Quiggins from the site displayed insensitivity to existing Liverpool culture.

For the study a key point to make is, that when read together, the accounts of The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House and Quiggins demonstrate that whenever the scheme went before the planning committee, the voices of ordinary citizens

162 seemed to be irrelevant. Nothing changed: there were no actual adaptations to the masterplan. Yet there has been a tendency, in the study so far, to assume that if the planning committee had been more involved – more so than the Member Working Group/delegated powers arrangement – then people would have had more of a voice and more of an opportunity to influence the design. These three accounts suggest that this wasn’t necessarily true. It wasn’t until One Park West that the planning committee was seen to act.

6.5 One Park West In contrast to The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House and Quiggins, when the masterplan gained outline planning permission in September 2002, nobody commented on One Park West. This building went before the planning committee later, at its detailed planning stage on 24 October 2006 because it was regarded as a major departure from its outline permission in terms of height. Its detailed design rose higher than the 13 storeys agreed in the masterplan and, at the Design Review Meetings, English Heritage felt One Park West was too high. As such, lowering the height of One Park West “was very much on the instigation of English Heritage: they indicated that they would [formally] object” (development partnership 3). Therefore One Park West was not be dealt with via delegated powers after the initial planning consent had been granted. Instead it went before the planning committee. However English Heritage didn’t actually formally object, but the committee report of 24 October 2006 noted verbal deputations were given by two objectors who were members of the public. Interestingly, of the eighteen interviewees – from a range of backgrounds – who discussed One Park West, none seemed aware of these two people: they weren’t mentioned. All the discussion centred around English Heritage.

One Park West is a residential building of 326 apartments. In addition there are restaurants, offices and a gym on the lower levels. There is also car parking. It was intended to be a landmark building: something of a punctuation point, performing on the skyline in much the same way as – historically – the Custom House had done, when it stood roughly on this site (Littlefield, 2009, p.173) (Fig 4.9, chpt 4). It was to be something gestural, especially as the building flanks both Chavasse Park and the edge of the scheme along The Strand. Therefore, initially the architect, Caesar Pelli, proposed a tower approaching 40 storeys (Fig 6.13). This was despite the fact outline planning permission had been granted for a building that rose to 13 storeys at its highest point. Following opposition from English Heritage, 40 storeys were reduced to 20 storeys. However, due to further

163 opposition from English Heritage, 20 storeys were lowered to 17 storeys. Then, to compensate for the loss of these three storeys the floor space was then increased in the main bulk of the building by adding another storey, to seek to maintain the building’s commercial value. This means that, when viewed looking towards the Mersey, the highest point of the building now extends only five storeys above the bulk of the building (Fig 6.14).

Figure 6.13: A tower approaching 40 storeys was proposed (Taylor and Davenport, 2009, p.87)

Figure 6.14: One Park West: eventually the rise was to extend five storeys (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

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Attitudes were divided on whether the truncation of the tower mattered. On one hand, ten interviewees felt One Park West looked pathetic, stumpy, compromised and out of balance. Of these ten, nine attended the Design Review Meetings. They generally felt that Caesar Pelli’s higher versions were the right solutions for the site, especially as the architect had explored all sorts of massing options and had done a tremendous amount of work to support his judgement: “the [20 storey] scheme was entirely acceptable ... it worked extremely well: we did not think it affected the topography ... English Heritage did” (development partnership 3). On the other hand, six interviewees – none of whom were involved in the Design Review Meetings – thought the building looked fine. Of these, there was the attitude held by two interviewees, both academics, that the height debate was a fuss over nothing: “The Caesar Pelli thing, which they always moan about, it should have been higher: it makes no difference, it makes no difference at all – sorry. That is just architects worrying. It is an interesting shape. It is quite nice. It does this elliptical effect on the Park: it works quite well. It did not need to be higher to achieve that. You know, but high towers are what people want” (academic 2). However, the One Park West height debate came at a time when the city council was getting very sensitive about UNESCO and their broader comments about cities not respecting world heritage status (development partnership 6). As such English Heritage was regarded as a powerful player, as they were not only one of the scheme’s major consultees, but a planning statutory consultee, and were also perceived to be carrying the UNESCO people along with them.

6.5.1 Dealing with dissent Only one interviewee, with a regional regeneration organisation, spoke in support of English Heritage’s efforts to have the height of One Park West reduced. They felt that, overall, the involvement of English Heritage could only have a positive effect on the townscape. English Heritage’s concerns related to the shallow, but distinctive topographic bowl that surrounded the city centre to the east and south, climbing uphill towards the ridge where the Anglican Cathedral stands (Fig 6.15). English Heritage felt this bowl was fundamental to the city’s character and structure, as a topographical feature which focused activity and visual connections down into the city centre and ultimately out and along to the Pier Head and former docks. This feature, coupled with the River Mersey, effectively bounded the central area of Liverpool. In this way the topography of the city played an important role in forming its character and historic development. It was because this bowl is not

165 symmetrical, but only to the east and south of the city centre, that English Heritage supported a cluster of tall buildings only to the north of the city centre. However, given that Liverpool One sat in the base of the bowl, English Heritage felt that this was not the place for height, and that a 20 storey One Park West, in a small way, interrupted the relationship between townscape and topography. In this way, views were important to English Heritage, in terms of preserving how these views are structured by the topography of the wider city. However, the popular belief was that the height of the building simply blocked views: only one interviewee mentioned (negatively) English Heritage’s carefulness regarding the Liverpool’s topography – even amongst those who attended the Design Review Meetings.

Figure 6.15: A topographic bowl surrounds the city centre to the east and south, climbing uphill towards the Anglican Cathedral (Courtesy of the Liverpool Record Office, Liverpool Libraries)

As the use of delegated powers was only permitted if everything was working within the scope of the masterplan, One Park West went before a planning committee for the councillors to make the judgement. They decided that three storeys were to be taken from the highest point of the building. Grosvenor could have appealed against the planning committee’s decision, but they didn’t. A development partner explained that they did not have the time. They had reached a stage where the

166 scheme had to be completed as soon as possible for financial reasons. This was not only the pressures of bank debt. In 2003 a public promise had been made that Liverpool One would be finished in time for European Capital of Culture in 2008. At the outset of the scheme, European Capital of Culture had not been awarded to Liverpool, so the completion date was later, but now Grosvenor could not afford to be slowed up by a formal objection, so they yielded to the wishes of English Heritage. They also rejected advice to build One Park West in such a way that flexibility was left to add the extra floors later, to keep fighting for planning permission. They said “that is not Grosvenor’s way: we will redesign it so that the geometry comes to three storeys less [at 17 storeys]” (consultant 3). In this way, One Park West demonstrates how the planning committee councillors, when they acted, wielded a huge amount of influence over the design of the scheme. This contrasts with the view highlighted in the previous chapter, that a councillor’s role on the Member Working Group at the Design Review Meetings was regarded as more powerful than a councillor’s decision-making role on a planning committee.

Interestingly, a development partner revealed that one man, a member of the public, was working behind the scenes, putting pressure on English Heritage to object to the building’s height: “one guy actually, one person: that’s one person” (development partnership 2). If this was the case, this ordinary citizen managed to sidestep the fact they were not on the stakeholders list, and certainly not a major consultee, to push an issue into the formal planning arena and have it, ultimately, put before a planning committee for them to make the decision. A scenario like this had been a concern from the outset: “If you look at Edge Lane Corridor [a new access road into Liverpool], for instance, is that was meant to be open and completed by the opening of this [Liverpool one] project [2008], but it has only just been completed in the last couple of years [2013/14]. It was, I think, a single objector stalling the whole process” (consultant 3). Whatever the driver for their opposition, like Merseytravel before them, English Heritage were viewed negatively because they stepped-out of the consensus which seemed to typify the scheme. This difference of opinion caused confusion: “I got very angry with English Heritage when they chopped the top off One Park West: three storeys. Everybody got angry ... and it looks to me, it looks stunted. Now that was English Heritage. Whether they were having a last kick? Because they always had been quite supportive in the masterplanning process. You thought everybody was on-board” (consultant 3).

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For English Heritage, though, it wasn’t just the height of the building which was the problem. The architectural language of the building remained the same: an architecturally insipid building which wasn’t really characterful enough for Liverpool or the rest of the scheme (national regeneration organisation 1). Three others were also disappointed, commenting that One Park West looked like a 1960s technical college, was neither leading edge nor sensitive, was generally just not as attractive as it could have been and had poor elevations – especially on The Strand. Given this list of complaints, this raises questions about why these types of issues weren’t communicated in the form of objections in the statutory planning process. This will be examined in the next section.

6.6 Why so few objections? The remainder of this chapter examines various viewpoints as to why there were only six objections via the statutory planning system, beyond those already highlighted in this chapter of people feeling too jaded from interacting with Grosvenor to continue their campaigns, and that people thought they had statutorily objected by speaking out at shadow consultation events. There were actually three points where the general public could have entered the formal planning arena and commented on the scheme. Firstly, there was the initial planning application, which was considered over the period of January 2001 to September 2002. Secondly, there was the revised planning application of February 2004, which was granted planning permission in June 2004. It went through the planning system fairly quickly because much of the scheme remained unchanged (Taylor and Davenport, 2009, p.63). The third key point at which the public could enter the statutory planning arena and comment on the scheme was at the detailed application stage, as approval was sought for the 800-plus reserved matters.

6.6.1 The right to receive accurate information It was highlighted that there were always opportunities for the public to object (development partnership 3). This raises the issue of how the public would have known about the Liverpool One proposal. The most obvious way would have been through receiving information through the local press. In terms of coverage in the press it was argued that: “Oh, there was plenty ... there was a huge amount of press publicity about the scheme relating to both planning applications [the original masterplan in 2001 and the revised masterplan in 2004]. They were all advertised in the press, there were articles about them” (development partnership 3). Unconvinced by such claims, one academic reacted with:

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“I would be asking: what is the minimum you have to do [to publicise a planning application]? Is it just an advert the local paper? Where to stick the advert? ... I suspect that it is sufficient in law nowadays to stick an advert somewhere and ... [claim] nobody has got an objection. That is democracy nowadays” (academic 4). In light of this scepticism regarding huge amounts of press publicity, a microfiche search of the Liverpool Echo was conducted at Liverpool City Library for the crucial 20 months during which the general public could have tried to influence the scheme’s design. This was the time period bookended by 17 January 2001, the registration of the planning application, and 26 September 2002, the day outline planning permission was granted. If people wished to make comments after this point: “That was people waking up after the event ... Everybody says: why was there a lack of objections? Were people not allowed their say on it? Yes they were but it was very early on in the process and if people had not objected at the outline stage [the masterplan] then it was difficult to object ... because principles had already been established” (development partnership 3). The Liverpool Echo is Liverpool's daily newspaper. According to its Combined Total Circulation Certificate 2016, it has an average daily circulation of 52,984. Table 6.1 charts the articles, not statutory planning notices/adverts, in the Liverpool Echo about the scheme.

Table 6.1: Liverpool Echo articles Articles from 17 January 2001 (the registration of the planning application) to 26 September 2002 (the granting of outline planning permission) Date Title of article Length 17.01.2001 Duke’s £600m masterplan for the city 1 page spread with photos 18.01.2001 The Palaces of Westminster 2 page spread with photos 26.09.2002 City’s new look starts here ... 1 page spread with photos

From Table 6.1, given the silence about the scheme, this relates to the postpolitical argument that political participation can be limited by limiting the right of the ordinary person to receive accurate information, including through print journalism. Admittedly, later, there was press coverage. Indeed, Grosvenor employed a strategy of often giving the Liverpool Echo stories ahead of trade and national titles to ensure that consumers 15 to 30 minutes drive time from Liverpool city centre felt fully involved in the development of the scheme (Daramola-Martin, 2009, p.309). However people are more than just consumers.

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The right of the ordinary person to receive accurate information through print journalism also relates to the fact any coverage is pitched to adequately communicate the political issues and debates around a project. For example, the fact only one person understood that the debate around the height of One Park West was more about topography than blocking views. A lack of adequately pitched press coverage could have been partly to blame for this. Likewise, on the issue of city centre space passing from public to private ownership through Liverpool One: “[In the] local media ... I don’t know whether there was the level of political debate about this, and I mean ‘political’ in terms of exploring options ... it did seem like a fait accompli: like ‘it [Liverpool One] is brilliant’” (academic 3). Similarly, another academic felt that the content of articles in the local press was inappropriate: “Well, the things that I got from The Echo – and there was another paper called The Daily Post at that time – were things like, I mean, Liverpool One was reported, but it was always celebratory in the local press: it was always like a good thing: this is going to do wonders for Liverpool because of its battered image for the last twenty years – and it is also going to transform the city” (academic 4). The other local newspaper mentioned in interviews, The Daily Post, is no longer in- print. It was directed towards the political and business elite in the city, with a much smaller circulation than The Echo: “They were big advocates for this new model of regeneration: I used to say sometimes, The Daily Post, you might as well just look on Liverpool Vision’s website because they just published things which were basically puff pieces, you know, they weren’t even mediated in any way. It was just like, ‘this is really good’ ... the local media in that period of time was completely onside: The Echo, The Post. Oh!” (academic 3). The two academics felt that, given the size and controversies of the scheme, especially the privatisation of public space, that such ‘sunshine’ or ‘blue-sky’ pieces in the local press were not fully appropriate: “I have no idea about opposition because I think there was no great public debate about Liverpool One, from what I can remember” (academic 4). The lack of coverage in the Liverpool Echo would have only helped quieten public debate about the scheme.

Furthermore, it was explained that the decision to use delegated powers so extensively was based not just on speed, but also on “the knowledge that there was general support for what was being proposed” (development partnership 3). This

170 raises questions, given that there was such little coverage in the press, of how could this have been known for sure? The use of shadow consultations also limited press coverage. Planning committee meetings can be attended by journalists, where they can report both from the meeting itself and from the committee reports. However there were only three planning committee meetings (26 September 2002, 8 June 2004 and 24 October 2006) for the press to attend. This lack of information frustrated one academic: “Basically, I was interested ... I just wanted to understand a process like Liverpool One, which is a new kind of idea about urban regeneration/design – relatively new – and Liverpool was something of an experiment in that kind of newness ... I was interested in that ... [but] the debates around Liverpool One were not in the public domain” (academic 4). It can be argued that the silence in local press during its earlier, influential stages helped enable the ‘clockwork’ planning processes of the previous chapter – and demonstrated that a consensus for development can be built both within planning processes, and also in the structures around them.

6.6.2 A confusing process Five interviewees, all involved in the scheme design, argued that the reconfiguration of planning processes allowed more opportunity for the public to comment than “would normally happen: here are the drawings, here’s the application, go and speak to the planners” (development partnership 6). This is a familiar drill however. In contrast six interviewees, who had all commented on the scheme in some way, from statutorily objecting to filling out forms in the Lord Street shop, revealed various ways in which the reconfiguration of planning processes brought confusion. Overall, this confusion may have contributed to such a small number of people utilising the statutory planning system to object.

“Nobody really knew what was going on” (local NGO 2) claimed one individual, who had been described by other interviewees as a very tenacious and seasoned objector. However this seasoned objector didn’t know there was a Member Working Group in place, though on learning this, they could immediately understand its merits concerning speed: “that figures… using an inner group, but – well – otherwise it could have dragged on for years and years and years and nobody wanted that” (local NGO 2). This same objector also didn’t know delegated powers had been so extensively utilised. In this, however, they were not alone. Two interviewees who were actually involved in the scheme design also did not know that delegated powers had been utilised to such an extent:

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“I am really not sure that is accurate ... I tell you why, because people would have kicked off. So the fact that I have absolutely no memory of that happening [people kicking off] suggests to me that, that is slightly misleading” (local politician 2). Yet delegated powers were extensively used and nobody kicked-off, because – it could be argued – people were confused by the process and this confusion contributed to a lack of public response.

In defence of the planning process, in terms of accessibility to statutory consultation exercises, two development partners claimed that “there was just loads of opportunity for people to get involved” (development partnership 4). In addition: “If you just think of the process as having been consulted upon ad nauseam, at every turn, really, right the way through: there was so much going on, in terms of consultation at the strategic level and then down to the details of the scheme” (development partnership 2). However both these interviewees bundled into the consultation process not just the Liverpool One outline and detailed planning applications, but the public inquiries into the opposing Walton scheme, the UDP retail policy modification, and the CPO process. However, the general public were perhaps not planning savvy enough to know their way around statutory consultation exercises in this way.

6.6.3 More confusion: who was in control? From first being aware of the proposals, two objectors, who were seeking to save two separate premises, both expressed confusion in terms of who was responsible for the overall site. There was a belief that, within the site boundaries, the city council had already handed over their responsibility for the urban fabric to Grosvenor: “It wasn’t Grosvenor’s responsibility to preserve the existing fabric of the city ... it’s our city council who was responsible to look after the city and their methods of doing it was to just put it into Grosvenor’s hands” (local NGO 2). Subsequently, this belief led to a certain amount of apathy about commenting on the proposals. However such a belief was dismissed by one development partner as absolute rubbish. Yet, there seems to be an element of truth, in that the decisions were made at the weekly Design Review Meetings, where six of the eight interviewees in attendance made it clear that Grosvenor were in control. Grosvenor’s commercial staff were identified as having the greatest influence over decision-making, followed by their core design team. Comments included that

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Grosvenor held the reigns “very, very tightly” (local politician 1), that they “just owned the process” (development partnership 4) and that when it came to final decisions, it was Grosvenor, “as ever”, who would get their way (development partnership 6).

In their defence, Grosvenor, given the huge sum of money they were investing into Liverpool, expected full control. A critical point was described, approaching two years into the process, when key city council executives thought they should be in control, rather than Grosvenor: “[We] just had to go in and say, ‘I’m sorry, but if you want us to deliver this – and we are going to put in a huge amount of money and we are taking some huge risks – now you have done your part, and we will tell you and talk to you all the time, but we are going to drive this otherwise we are not [partaking]” (development partnership 5). However, when objectors perceived these types of scenario to be the case, it was denied. In fact it was described as absolute rubbish. However there was a more nuanced view than outright denial that the city council handed over the development site to Grosvenor: “No, we didn’t: it was a partnership. I mean, people have got to be realistic here: if somebody is spending £950 million in your city [final bill: £1.3 billion] and you haven’t got any money [laughing]: you know what I’m saying?” (development partnership 2). However, this debate highlights that partnership working – and the subsequent entanglement – between the public and private sector can be confusing to the public and potential objectors.

6.6.4 Overwhelming scale The sheer size of the scheme was blamed for the lack of statutory objections, with six interviewees, all involved in the scheme design, highlighting the problems of consulting over such a vast scheme. However, an interesting point to make is that there were no ‘macro scale’ objections. Each statutory objector focused-down on one component part of the scheme: The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House, Quiggins and One Park West. Despite this, the statutory planning system was considered to be inadequate for dealing the required consultation: “you cannot, you cannot, deliver this scale and size in standard British planning processes” (development partnership 1). Therefore:

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“There was, rightly, an enormous non–statutory consultation, because I think the statutory one is so mean and minimal ... so limited ... it’s not going to inform the scheme this big” (local partnership 1). The belief that informal/shadow consultations were superior to traditional approaches to statutory consultation was a view held by five interviewees, all involved in the scheme design. It is also worth noting however, that despite so much support for the informal in the Liverpool One planning processes, both Grosvenor and Liverpool City Council absolutely focused on statutory mechanisms when they objected to the Tesco/Everton scheme. Furthermore to claim that scale prevents the use of statutory mechanisms presents a double blow for democracy. Not only does outdoor mall-ing allow private interests to take over large tracts of city centres, including the public realm, but then – dismissed for unable to cope with scale – statutory planning processes are replaced with practices that appear to short circuit planning‘s usual democratic processes.

To expand on informal, shadow consultation processes, they were also regarded as superior because the earlier people were involved, the lesser the likelihood of conflict at a later stage (development partnership 3). It was explained how whole Liverpool One process was geared to avoid, at the end of the day, come the planning application, a major objection – which it was accurately pointed out “by and large, it was very successful [in achieving]” (development partnership 6). Putting aside the fact that consultation on the scheme design in the earlier, crucial stages of Liverpool One was invite-only, this type of thinking encapsulates the belief – shared by the two planners who were interviewed – that consensus is actually achievable in planning. In fact, one development partner believed that consensus was possible to the extent that statutory objections were evidence of public sector planners failing in their work: “The name of the game was to get people on board so that you did not have objections and that was pretty well what we were all about ... you know, if you can get everybody on board, so when it goes into the public domain in the statutory [planning] sense, if you have done your job right, you should not have an issue” (development partnership 2). This is actually a worrying concept for UK public sector planners: that they, themselves, should shoulder the responsibility for their performance based on whether or not statutory objections are received. This is individualising what is actually a social issue. There are differences of opinion in society and nobody has failed to do their job right if there are objections, especially as land use changes have traditionally an area of huge disagreements.

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6.6.5 New style consultation There was also distinct change in attitudes towards planning evidenced in the use of terms like ‘positive’ and ‘negative’. Liverpool One’s particular reconfiguration of planning processes “you know, had to be positive” (development partnership 6). Five interviewees used the terms positive and negative to refer to the scheme’s consultation processes. Three interviewees involved in the scheme design felt that promoting the scheme typified ‘positivity’, while two local activists, both academics, felt accused of ‘negativity’ for speaking out about various concerns relating to Liverpool One. A sixth interviewee stated that they wouldn’t have objected because they were a positive person. Indeed, public consultation was portrayed as a battle between positive and negative thinking: “[Responses] were not always positive from a lot of different perspectives, but there was enough weight and strength in those people that were pushing it [Liverpool One] forward to, well, basically eliminate the negative forces that were coming (local partnership 1). One such oncoming negative force, who spoke-out about issues, recalled that: “Yes, I was seen as negative: absolutely. I do not have a problem with that, I do not really care. I could just turn that around and say well, why are you just a cheerful robot? That is an equally valid insult, but then to me, they are cheerful robots, because they won’t allow negativity into any campaign or any image or any document or anything they publish about Liverpool One: it cannot be negative” (academic 4). For another interviewee, also caught up in the positive/negative divide: “I was saying, I did not know that it was just for or against: let’s just open up some discussion about, you know, what sort of [development] model is this? And does it work? What types of jobs will be created? ... Just opening up those types of quite prosaic mundane questions became treated with some hostility ... I actually got, honestly, without being too self-indulgent, I was actually attacked – not physically, but people saying, ‘oh gosh, you are so negative’” (academic 3). Seeking to dismiss legitimate concerns about Liverpool One as simply negative thoughts has parallels to an issue raised in the literature review: that people are realistic about the inevitability of the capitalist market being the organisational foundation of society, and those who don’t accept this are framed as parochial or regressive traditionalists. From the study, it could be argued that those who don’t accept this are also framed as ‘negative thinkers’. This is a troubling turn in statutory planning – a process traditionally concerned with the presence of

175 differences of opinion. Differences of opinion are not the same thing as expressing positive and negative thoughts.

Perhaps related to the issue of dismissing different perspectives as negative thinking, there was a belief that statutory consultation was rather unnecessary because they were doing the right thing anyway: “I think everybody – myself included – was focused on getting it [Liverpool One] delivered ... we all thought we were doing the right thing so that’s what the push was. We went through the whole process of making sure that everybody was [informally/shadow] consulted with my personal expectation that there would then be a formal consultation [at some point], but I thought it would be fairly formal and forgone, because we were doing the right thing anyway” (local partnership 1). Six interviewees, four of whom were involved in the scheme design, discussed Grosvenor’s consultation style which, while regarded as extensive, was generally not felt to be genuine consultation leading to scheme adaptations. It was a new style consultation which was more about Grosvenor taking people on a journey with them (development partnership 4). Others remarked that Grosvenor’s knew they had a good scheme so they were showing-off and generating excitement and civic support, as opposed to consulting. Despite this, on Grosvenor’s part, regardless of the fact it may have deterred objections, it was still felt to be a sincere consultation process.

6.6.6 Other reasons Finally, there were three remaining viewpoints on why there were so few statutory objections. Two interviewees – a key development partner and a local commentator – held the view that it was public apathy. People had seen so many plans of schemes which were never built, so they did not believe Liverpool One would happen: “They had been promised so many times ... so there was a degree of, ‘well, it is our city, it was bombed in the war, nobody has cared for it since, how much worse could it really get/don’t think anybody is actually going to do it’” (development partnership 1). Secondly, and conversely, five interviewees – four development partners and a local planning consultant – believed there were so few statutory objectors, not through lack of interest, but because there was a huge appetite to have a scheme of this sort and therefore people did not object: “you can’t really blame the good people of Liverpool for wanting a nice place to go shopping” (consultant 2). Thirdly,

176 three interviewees – a planning consultant, a local commentator and an academic – expressed the sentiment of why not allow the private sector to have a go at regenerating the city centre? This was underpinned by feelings that Liverpool continued to be ignored by central government. While “the government was not interested. Grosvenor and the Duke of Westminster stuck his head out and he went for it” (local commentator 2). Furthermore there was a curiosity about the private sector: “Liverpool had a go at bringing down capitalism on its own in the 1980s [the Militants] and it kind of lost and got pretty ruthlessly punished for having a go. I think it is time it settled: it has done its deal with The Devil of Capitalism” (consultant 2). In this small way, there was a surprising tolerance towards capitalistic approaches to redeveloping Liverpool’s city centre spaces, and thus – arguably – very few objections.

6.7 Conclusion Interestingly, only one interviewee said that they thought the promise of high quality design was to make Liverpool One acceptable where otherwise there may have been planning objections, a technique of pacifying potential objectors identified in the literature review. Instead an array of views was put forward as to why there were so few objections to Liverpool One. Given the chapter’s interest in postpolitics, three practices – in particular – can be identified which potentially deterred objectors and thus annulled dissent. Firstly there was the silence in the local press during the scheme’s earlier, influential stages which could only have helped limit public debate about the scheme. Secondly there was the confusion caused by partnership working, as to who was responsible for the urban fabric within the site boundaries, right from the outset of the proposals. The belief that Grosvenor was already in control may have caused apathy amongst potential objectors: that – if this was the case – there was no point in objecting. Thirdly outdoor mall-ing not only allowed private interests to take over large tracts of Liverpool city centre, but then brought about the dismissal of standard planning practices on the grounds that they would be unable to cope with the scale of the scheme. Instead they were replaced with practices that appeared to short circuit planning‘s usual democratic processes. In this way, delivering an urban-scale project like Liverpool One delivered a double blow for democracy.

In terms of postpolitics, also significant were not planning mechanisms, but shifts in thinking. In this light, there were two changing attitudes of particular interest.

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Firstly, two planners believed consensus was achievable in planning. Indeed, one of the two thought that planners were responsible if statutory objections were received. This is individualising what is actually a social issue. This, arguably, is a danger of partnership working: that shifts in thinking and acceptances of certain ideologies can occur, perhaps without the planner even really noticing. Somehow, an alternative construction of the problem had come about, whereby the issue in hand was not the content of the objection, but that an objection had even been lodged. A second changing attitude was towards those who had raised issues about the scheme and had subsequently been framed as ‘negative thinkers’. Postpolitically, both these changing attitudes are interesting because they both move planning away from being a dissensual activity, characterised by the presence of differences of opinion – despite the fact planning has traditionally been a genuine political space of disagreement.

Furthermore, this chapter built-on the findings of the previous postpolitical chapter. This was particularly in terms of ‘foreclosure’, whereby it could be argued that urban quartering is actually a postpolitical mechanism in that it enables the foreclosure of the urban/social issues that will be addressed in a particular zone or urban quarter. Quartering can create an ease with which to dismiss valid concerns. In addition, the debate of ‘allowing’ continued. Whereas Grosvenor had previously been perceived to be the ones to ‘allow’ political participation in the planning/design stages, post-completion – again Grosvenor were the ones to ‘allow’: this time by saying whether behaviour within the scheme was acceptable or not.

Conversely, one issue did not build on the assumptions of the previous chapter. When read together, the accounts of The Oldest House, the Quaker Meeting House and Quiggins demonstrated that whenever the scheme went before the planning committee, the voices of ordinary citizens seemed to be irrelevant. In the previous chapter, however, there had been a tendency to assume that if the planning committee had been more involved – more so than the Member Working Group/delegated powers arrangement – then people would have had more of a voice and more of an opportunity to influence the design. However these three accounts suggest that this wasn’t necessarily true.

Throughout this, and the previous chapter, there are arguably many examples of postpolitical planning practices. Despite this, Liverpool One is still a very popular scheme, largely because of its high quality design, which is the focus of the next chapter: ‘Applying ideas of best practice in the real world’.

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Chapter Seven Applying ideas of best practice in the real world

7.1 Introduction Liverpool One’s masterplan advocated the comprehensive renaissance of the area through creating buildings of density and variety, urban quarters and linkages to the rest of the city centre, while extending the existing retail core around Church Street, conserving and enhancing the site’s heritage and other positive attributes, and applying design excellence throughout (Grosvenor, 2004, p.24). Broadly speaking, all these aims were achieved and, as already highlighted, Liverpool One is the beneficiary of several notable awards. Indeed, one interviewee described the scheme as “almost as near a perfect planning project as you could imagine” (regional regeneration organisation 2), while to another it was “like an urban design case study: a really good example” (national regeneration organisation 1). The latter quote, especially, encapsulates the belief that ‘good’ built environments can be clarified and codified to be understood – that creating engaging structural compositions can be perfected – and that design ideas can be spread via the rolling-out of best practice case studies. In this vein, this chapter seeks to critically examine what happens when ideas of design excellence/best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, as exemplified by Liverpool One. The chapter is divided into two parts. The first part will outline the ways in which Liverpool One is perceived to have gone beyond good design and, as one interviewee put matters, raised the game for city centre regeneration projects (national regeneration organisation 1). The second part analyses how Liverpool One, as an outdoor mall, developed into a high quality ‘oasis’ and the tensions around how this sits within the urban fabric of the existing more ordinary work-a-day city. There is also a focus, in this second part, on examining the underlying premise that high standards of urban design are benign and, in some way, universally in the public good.

Part one: a good example of contextual design

7.2 A very site-specific response to the city of Liverpool Liverpool One has a lot of friends: “in architectural and urban design circles, I’d say that Liverpool One is widely admired by the sorts of people who review these projects” (national regeneration organisation 2). From the study it emerged that, in many respects, this admiration stemmed from the fact the scheme was regarded as a very site-specific response to the city of Liverpool. It was described as “wonderfully, wonderfully contextual design” (development partnership 4). In

179 terms of being a response to the city of Liverpool, without doubt, with 21 responses – 15 interviewees from all backgrounds and six online survey participants– the scheme’s greatest success was opening-up the city to its own waterfront, particularly the Albert Dock area (Fig 7.1). Despite being regarded as the city’s biggest asset in terms of culture, heritage and amenity, before Liverpool One there had not been a obvious, natural route from the core retail streets to the River Mersey: “the waterfront seemed like a long walk and few people bothered” (local commentator 6). Beyond this stand-out achievement, this section will now critically examine the accumulation of ways in which the scheme became regarded as a good example of contextual design.

Figure 7.1: Core retail streets to the River Mersey (Grosvenor, 2004, p.86)

7.2.1 The use of scale Seven interviewees, all but one built environment professionals, observed that the scheme featured an appealing and quite sophisticated change in scale, with a carefully considered strategy to distinguish between the scheme’s tighter-grained East End and the larger-scale development at its West End, towards the River

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Mersey. At the East End, the existing built fabric of the Bluecoat and the Duke Street Conservation Area defined a development approach based on a mix of retained and new infill buildings and a more intimate scale – with smaller footprints and narrower streets. Extra interest to the townscape was added by ensuring that the new infill buildings were allocated to a number of different architects. Meanwhile at the West End, the scheme changed in reference to its surroundings as it reached the world city scale of the waterfront and the River Mersey. It was able to go higher and larger, providing modern retail space to accommodate department stores and other large, clear floor-plate retailers. The resultant buildings were bigger and felt to be more showy than the new buildings on the East End (see later: Fig 7.8). However, despite the necessary size of these buildings, four interviewees involved in the scheme design described how care was taken to ensure they did not become too monolithic, which included cutting through the largest blocks with streets. As such, Wall Street and the reconfigured College Lane were created in this way (Fig 7.2).

Figure 7.2: Wall Street was created by cutting through a large block (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

7.2.2 A settled feel: the look of age and familiarity Despite being big and showy in parts, overall, the scheme was perceived to have a settled feel by nine respondents: one online survey participant and eight interviewees, of whom six were built environment professionals. There was felt to be a sense of longevity about the scheme. This was despite the fact only 10 181 buildings were preserved, though these included warehouses and Georgian frontages. The scheme was felt to be so settled that, despite its contemporary architectural qualities, someone visiting for the first time might think Liverpool One had been there for years. This was quite an achievement given that Grosvenor said the scheme, apart from the preserved buildings, must always be modern. There was to be no pastiche. Instead more of a look of age was favoured. This was more easily achievable at the East End, where weaving the new with the old gave an extra patina to the scheme (Fig 7.3). This part of the scheme was admired for having real texture and variety to it, and was identified by a further eight interviewees from various backgrounds as the most attractive part of the scheme. Yet, to the West End, other patina techniques were used like rounding the corners and sharp lines of some buildings to make it seem like they had been weathered by the elements, echoing the old buildings found in the docks (Fig 7.4). In addition, one online survey participant and seven interviewees – who were largely not involved in the scheme design – noted the use of materials familiar to Liverpool, predominantly ‘classic’ red sandstone – to which the city’s prevailing red colouring was attributed – along with jura limestone and to a lesser extent granite, as well as borrowing from redbrick Northern England. While, one interviewee and one online survey participant were aware that the design of the former Habitat frontage (Fig 7.5) was based on the Victorian polychrome brickwork found elsewhere in the city, though two other interviewees were dismissive towards the frontage because they felt it did not identify with Liverpool. Generally speaking, however, using materials found in the city helped the scheme feel settled.

Figure 7.3: Use of patina by weaving Figure 7.4: Use of patina by rounding old and new (Photographer: corners to appear weathered V. Lawson, 2017) (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017) 182

Figure 7.5: Victorian polychrome brickwork inspired frontage (https://www.yelp.co.uk/biz/habitat-liverpool)

7.2.3 Stability Furthermore, as a new ‘plug-in’ development, the scheme was used to repair and re-knit the existing adjacent street network. Although it was not actually a reinstatement of the area’s original, pre-war street pattern, as a number of respondents believed, Liverpool One did create a version of a traditional street pattern. The result was a “sort of artificial street plan that they say gives you a feeling of what it was like” (local commentator 1). The streets also sat within their own hierarchy, with primary streets like the boulevard-style Paradise Street and the narrower, more secondary streets around the Bluecoat. Although not commented upon by the respondents, site analysis revealed that, in the process of re-knitting into the adjacent street network, Liverpool One made good use of the traditional typologies of the city. Not only were streets and blocks utilised, but small squares, terraces, urban stairways, arcades and passageways. These features added to the sense of longevity about the scheme. For example, the Kenyon Steps, the urban stairway leading up to the park, were intended to look like they had always been there (Littlefield, 2009, p.167) (Fig 7.6).

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Figure 7.6: The Kenyon Steps were to look like they’d always been there (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2015)

In addition, fourteen interviewees across all backgrounds noted ways in which the scheme featured civilities: thoughtful touches. For example, to demonstrate the importance of simple courtesy there was a deliberate decision to combine the smart entrance to Grosvenor’s management suite with that of the public toilets. More generally, however, people mentioned urban niceties such as street clocks – one at the bus station and another at Paradise Place (the space outside John Lewis) – the Quaker peace garden, the atrium under Chavasse Park and the safeguarding/display of both the gates of a former sailors home on the site (Fig 7.7) and Paradise Street’s American Eagle (Fig 7.8). The Eagle is now a replica however, the wooden original was restored and moved to the Museum of Liverpool in 2014. As such, it was commented that there are “these small sorts of things that you are discovering in layers ... so there is that level of surprise” (academic 1). At seven responses, the small touch which came most to people’s minds was the pavement window into the 1715 Old Dock – although five of these were negative. Basically it was felt to be too-small-a-touch given the dock’s historic importance. It could have been designed and managed better. However, this disappointment aside, by making the scheme feel visually civilised and respectful, the urban niceties added another layer of stability to the scheme.

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Figure 7.7: the safeguarding of the Figure 7.8: Paradise Street’s sailors’ home gates (Photographer: American Eagle (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017) V. Lawson, 2017)

7.2.4 Replicating diversity and organic growth Six interviewees, all involved in designing Liverpool One, explained that part of the scheme’s thinking was to seek to replicate the diversity and sense of organic growth of a traditional mixed-use city centre area. This was achieved through the use of 27 different architectural practices to deliver the individual buildings. The traditional, organic city was also the underlying premise of the scheme design in terms of its future, long-term adaptability. Change was regarded as inevitable, especially in a retail environment, so the scheme was designed to accept gradual organic change as it was already – as an ensemble of individual buildings – quite adaptable. A building could be replaced and it wouldn’t fundamentally undermine the overall qualities of the scheme.

7.2.5 The retail offer Broadly speaking, while looking around Liverpool One’s shops, there is no means to determine a regional location. It is almost all chain stores. However two interviewees felt the scheme to be unique to Liverpool because the football shops of both Liverpool FC and Everton FC were there. In fact, given its Liverpool One location, the Everton shop enjoys a pun with its name: ‘Everton Two’. Five more interviewees mentioned there was a local shop, Utility, within the scheme. Generally, though, it is not obvious that Liverpool One is contextual in terms of its retail offer. As such, three interviewees and one online survey participant

185 expressed their disappointment over the lack of small, independent shops. However four interviewees – all involved in the scheme design – conveyed both their attempts to include a home-grown retail element and their frustration that the public do not realise just how hard it is, in a commercial environment, to get schemes like Liverpool One to work. While the more human scale around the Bluecoat was very attractive, it was explained that the requirements of larger stores were far outside the scale offered by this type of townscape. Therefore, to achieve the scheme’s overall viability, they sought to create an ‘ecosystem’ whereby the inclusion of smaller units on the East End was workable because, commercially, the scheme was driven by the West End (Fig 7.9). Financially, the scheme was dependent on the large, modern retail spaces delivered by Paradise Street and South John Street. Furthermore, in terms of trying to accommodate small, independent shops, one interviewee explained that, when faced with a large single block or a stretch of blank facade, the design team had tried to persuade tenants to have some small units let-into the sides. However only Debenhams would agree to this and now has a jeweller and, just a little kiosk, a clock repairers set within its department store facade.

Figure 7.9: The scheme’s scale ‘ecosystem’. Smaller units at the East End and large floor plates at the West End (Base plan: https://www.bdonline.co.uk/news/liverpools-1-billion-city-centre)

Small kiosks were also added to some of the streets, like Paradise Street, which seven respondents felt was too wide and too high – canyon-like – and bland, with not enough going on. For an online survey participant kiosks were not the answer,

186 however, and were just clutter. However, despite these initiatives, the concerns about the lack of small independents to accommodate home-grown businesses was understandable given how Liverpool had suffered in the past due to its reliance on a branch plant template. Older Liverpool people do not need a particularly long memory to recall that, with no particular attachment to the city, when profits dropped, the branches were shut. The chain stores of Liverpool One could easily repeat this approach. For instance, there was great enthusiasm when “the mould was broken” (consultant 3) by Jamie’s Italian insisting they wanted to be on a high street (Paradise Street) and not in the restaurant zone, The Terrace. However Jamie’s Italian has announced the closure of six of its 42 UK restaurants, while planning to open 22 branches overseas (Thompson, 2017). Although Liverpool One’s branch was not one of the six to be closed, this is a reminder of capitalism’s perpetual need to find new, more profitable terrains and how easily Liverpool could be discarded.

7.2.6 Weather protection The issue was raised that Liverpool was not a particularly climatically blessed city, especially with winds coming up from the River Mersey. Five interviewees, including a development partner, found the scheme to be cold, windy and wet at times, and felt that more could have been done to provide weather protection. In contrast, six interviewees, from various backgrounds, felt the scheme responded to its locality by providing weather protection. It was noted that a huge amount of work had gone into ensuring its environment was comfortable. Through the main thoroughfares of the project, the routes were weather protected by canopies, colonnades or overhanging buildings to create semi-covered streets (Fig 7.10), while the arcades – in effect – are fully covered streets. The design of the Chavasse Park/South John Street area, especially, had been tested in wind tunnels. As a result the glazed canopy at the head of the park acts like an aerofoil deflecting both the rain and the wind away from South John Street (Fig 7.11). In these ways, the designers of the scheme sought to achieve the best of both worlds: the open air, yet comfort. This is appreciated by some visiting the site: “you can go there and you can experience that feeling of space and light and the natural environment of the city” (academic 2).

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Figure 7.10: Weather protection plan - canopies, colonnades and arcades (Grosvenor, 2004, p.144)

Figure 7.11: South John Street’s glazed canopy. It acts as an aerofoil deflecting both rain and winds from the River Mersey (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

Moreover, despite the issues relating poor weather, five interviewees – predominately built environment professionals – noted that being open did enable

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Liverpool One to utilise seasonal activities to increase footfall. For example, winter brought an open-air ice rink in the park, Santa’s Grotto and Christmas stalls, while summer brought quirky street initiatives like Tickling the Ivories – the communal outdoor pianos initiative – deck chairs, book swap trees, ping-pong tables and a beach in the park: “a nice, little, gentle thing, just children with buckets and spades” (local commentator 2). In fact, a development partner highlighted that, when the sun came out, the footfall – though not the commercial turnover – jumped significantly compared to national trends for shopping developments. Given that, on a hot day Liverpool One’s visitor numbers soar, but retail spend doesn’t, this suggests that at these times, the scheme’s innate value as a civic space comes to the forefront. It is not just an area of organised shopping. People can enjoy strolling, the park and ice-creams, while children can play in the water fountains (Fig 7.12) and the links through to the Albert Dock and other attractions along the River Mersey can be fully utilised. It appears that, as a civic space, on summer days the scheme is its most successful.

Figure 7.12: The scheme on a hot day. Note also the references in the design to Liverpool Castle, in the natural stone ‘curtain wall’ and the park’s elevated topography reminiscent of the plateau on which the castle once stood (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2015)

7.2.7 Partaking in the Liverpudlian party atmosphere Though not as obvious as being physically site specific, the scheme was perceived to be contextual by three interviewees because it sat within the mood of the city,

189 which was felt to be fun loving, with very sociable people who liked to enjoy themselves. This was especially the case with the inclusion of the scheme’s quirky street initiatives: “People say that Liverpool’s got this sort of big, party, carnival atmosphere. It always does, anyway, at the weekends generally – but especially so in the summer. I can see people being seduced by it, and it’s very palpable and I think certainly Liverpool One partakes in that and the pianos and the ping- pong tables and all of that, you know, I think that all contributes to that. It is, sort of like, you’re on holiday ... I just think they [the quirky street initiatives] just bring the whole thing together ... it is not just about shopping, it is about, just enjoying the city: just enjoying the space on the streets and enjoying being with other people” (Local commentator 2). There was a feel good factor about the scheme. Arguably, this is not surprising given Liverpool One’s lineage to The Grove in Los Angeles. According to its developer, The Grove aimed to create a festive, holiday atmosphere in order to attract people to “hang out” there and end up spending money because ‘‘you buy things when you're on holiday that you wouldn't buy otherwise” (The Economist, 2007). Outdoor malls seek to make people feel the lightness of being on holiday, to provoke associative moods. Indeed, it has long been confirmed by consumer research that the more optimistic people feel about the world, the more willing they are to spend money, quite aside from their own personal finances (Crawford, 1992, p.11). However, this highlights how very attractive they need to be, to be successful: “I don’t think Liverpool One is like an iron cage: it is not like a purely rationalised model of consumption. I don’t know what that would look like. I don’t think it would be successful, because I don’t think people would like to shop there. And I think that is what Grosvenor got onto. It needs to be somewhere where people want to spend time ... you have got to want to go there” (academic 3). In this light, creating a holiday atmosphere with beaches and buckets and spades and old fashioned fun, was only truly appealing when viewed through more innocent eyes. Viewed alternatively – commercially – they are to soften the scheme’s edge, so that it is not just a hard retail offer.

In this light, two interviewees – both academics – strongly disagreed that Liverpool One’s carnival atmosphere was in some way Liverpudlian. Instead the quirky street initiatives they were to give capitalism a more human face. Rather than making

190 the streets evocative of a holiday or festival, they represented a kind of forced spontaneity: “What is this notion of fun? What is it actually about? What is underpinning it? It is about consumption, at the end of the day, and keeping people in the city [longer, so they will spend more money]: however we can do that. ... It is all about: ‘this is not a shopping centre’. Yes it is. That is exactly what it is: it is a shopping centre, but we will put deck chairs out as a friendly welcome” (academic 4). However two further interviewees, another academic and a development partner, felt that the only way shopping as a spatial activity – in a three dimensional space – could compete with internet shopping was to make ‘going to town’ more of an entertainment experience. As such Liverpool One had to be about more than just shopping, it needed to tap into the idea of a shopping area offering recreation.

On this note, to bring this first part of the chapter to an end, it needs to be acknowledged that, generally, many aspects of Liverpool One’s scheme design were well done – especially in terms of being a very site-specific response to Liverpool. In fact, design wise, Liverpool One enjoyed so many genuinely successful moments that it became viewed as something of an ‘oasis’ within the city centre. In this light, the second part of the chapter now analyses how Liverpool One, as an outdoor mall, developed into an oasis and the tensions around how this sits within the urban fabric of the existing more ordinary work-a-day city.

Part two: the Liverpool One oasis

7.3 The Best Part of the Day Four interviewees – three who worked in promoting commerce and one built environment professional – described Liverpool One as an oasis, a haven, a place that sits still within the hustle and bustle of the city centre, somewhere to spend time getting away from it all and a place offering pressure relief. Whereas Chavasse Park was always intended to be the Liverpool One’s sedentary/semi- active space, it was apparent that an oasis-like ambience had spread across the scheme. This was so much so that a step change of feeling was identified on entering Liverpool One from the adjacent areas. From the study it was clear that the sense of being in an oasis was a major accomplishment of the scheme. However becoming an oasis was not an underlying principle of the development identified in the masterplan. It appears to have come about as more of a by- product of other initiatives. As such, this section examines the design and

191 management measures which have enabled a new development like Liverpool One to ‘sit still’, as it was put, within the existing fabric of the city centre.

7.3.1 Coherency through limited colour palettes In terms of building the sense of an oasis, the buildings provided the scenery for two interviewees and one online survey participant. They felt the coherency of Liverpool One’s design, through its use of limited colour palettes, created wholly the same design feel and a calm ambience, making it distinct from the rest of the city. Furthermore, the subtlety of the quality of the building materials helped to create an oasis-like ambience, in that the architecture of Liverpool One was felt to be neutral and did not edge into peoples’ consciousness. A palette of materials, and therefore colours, was actually defined in the masterplan, although the palette varied across the scheme. However, while the scheme was perceived to be very politely designed, three interviewees felt that the scheme lacked pizzazz (an issue examined further in the next chapter).

7.3.2 Measured quiet/traffic free Although Liverpool One was referred to as a space in which to spend time getting away from it all, in 2016, this urban idyll welcomed over 29 million visitors (Langshaw, 2017). Rather than a lack of footfall, the scheme’s oasis-like ambience stemmed from the tempo with which people used the space. Despite the issues highlighted previously relating to over-pedestrianisation, without doubt, being largely traffic-free helped the scheme feel more peaceful. Nine interviewees from across all backgrounds referred to pedestrianisation in a positive light, for example: “being pedestrianised … people can amble and walk slowly, they don’t feel under threat, which you do on a crammed pavement next to moving traffic ... it’s utterly relaxed” (local partnership 1). Furthermore, people who had arrived by car could relax knowing their car was safe in “a lovely, shiny car park ... down there” (regional regeneration organisation 2). ‘Down there’ referred to the 2,000 car parking spaces hidden away under Liverpool One, along with two undercrofts providing underground servicing for 85% of the scheme (Grosvenor, 2004, p.44) (Fig.7.13). Six interviewees, mainly involved in the scheme design, discussed the underground infrastructure, which meant that – above ground – there were not even delivery vehicles in the pedestrianised streets.

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Figure 7.13: Cross section showing the scheme’s undercroft (Grosvenor, 2004, p.8)

The underground infrastructure also enhanced the quality of the streetscapes because people didn’t see, smell or encounter the waste cooking oils/waste food coming from the restaurants, the waste from the park and from businesses like the cinema, and all the waste that comes from hundreds of daily shopping movements. All this, along with all the usual building services required for any large commercial shopping facility, were completely hidden away out of sight. This came at a cost however: “Liverpool One spent very heavily on its underground service routes which, I think, I would not advise anybody to do again. I mean, £250 million, something like that” (consultant 3). Despite the costs, the approach appeared to be working: an online survey participant observed that people gravitated to Liverpool One because of the improved streetscene over the rest of the city centre. In fact, such was its gravitational pull that Church Street was now regarded as “the edge” of Liverpool’s retail core (local NGO 1). Whereas for years it was without doubt Liverpool’s main shopping street.

7.3.3 Predictability of space It was more than pedestrianisation which made Liverpool One feel relaxed. After all, Church Street has long been pedestrianised, but it was not described as relaxed: “[The street has] a little bit too much life ... there are too many buskers, too many street artists ... that is a Liverpool reality. You get that as soon as you walk out of Liverpool One ... [a scheme] which sweeps away all those,

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sometimes disreputable, elements of Church Street” (regional regeneration organisation 2).

“The [Church Street] illegal street trading: there is a discomfort, the ... people who pounce on you, the uncertainty of quite what is going on here? (local politician 1). Five interviewees – four built environment professionals and one councillor – contrasted the discomfort and uncertainty experienced in a space like Church Street with the predictability of space offered by Liverpool One. Rather than anything could happen, in Liverpool One the possibilities of what can happen in a space were reduced to those things organised around a day out shopping, meaning that Liverpool One visitors could just relax and enjoy the pleasure of the experience. This both played to the wider family appeal and created an enjoyment about the scheme. If something happened in a Liverpool One space it was not random, but organised, thus: “Children, grandparents ... they will feel safe with these sorts of things which are really, really enjoyable, like being able to sit down at a piano or pass and see a child playing on the piano – nobody will worry about them” (local politician 1). However, this raises questions about whether Liverpool One’s spaces were so predictable that nothing interesting was perceived to actually happen within them. Twenty-six interviewees were asked how the public were responding to particular spaces within Liverpool One, including who was colonising them: using the spaces for self-entertainment in some way. The interview question was widely met with silence, with 10 people – of which five were involved in the scheme design – unable to think of any space that had been colonised by anyone. Another five thought that coffee drinkers at outdoor cafe tables were colonising Liverpool One’s spaces. The main group of colonisers, however, were felt to be teenagers: the Goths, Moshers and Emos. Seven interviewees – of whom only one was involved in the scheme design – noted that they had made encroachments into Chavasse Park from the Queen Victoria monument on Derby Square, although the search for a teenage hangout had been ongoing since the loss of Quiggins, where they had liked to congregate in the deep doorwells and other spaces of the area outside. As such Chavasse Park was “was quite a young person’s meeting place I thought, for a while, hundreds of them as well” (local media 1). However, the teenagers were repelled from Chavasse Park: “they said, basically, we Grosvenor ... the Goths who hang around in Derby Square, we don’t want them” (consultant 3). It appeared

194 that lingering without spending – self entertainment – wasn’t popular. Leisure, largely, has to be bought in Liverpool One: “There are not that many places where you can sit down, free ... and not feel you have got to buy a coffee, which is the problem, isn’t it, if you have not got a lot of money” (local partnership 2). Twelve interviewees mentioned they used the scheme’s coffee houses, which were described as a nice version of public space – although interestingly, apart from two councillors, nobody used the coffee houses who had been involved with the scheme design. Furthermore, there appeared to be a divide between colonisers with some money – even for coffee – and others, like the teenagers. For one group the scheme was socially improving, but the other group was prevented from attaching themselves to their own personal urban renaissance in the space and were repelled instead.

7.3.4 A pristine environment One online survey participant and ten interviewees, including five involved in the scheme design, held the view that the scheme was kept ultraclean in order to attract people and allow them to enjoy the place, so that they could relax. It was commented that this was the primary reason Grosvenor had invested so heavily in underground infrastructure. Of these eleven, three felt that the intention was to make people feel so relaxed in Liverpool One that they would spend more money: “I think surroundings can make people feel good, and they usually spend more if they're feeling positive and optimistic” (local commentator 11). In reply to these types of comment, the response from a development partner was: “I do not think it is as direct as that. Do we work hard on ‘clean, safe and secure’ as our three basic hygiene standards? Yes, absolutely, we do. And I think that probably then means that people can relax that little bit more, which probably then means they hang around a little bit more and inevitably in an environment where there is the opportunity to spend, then you probably do” (development partnership 1). However there was concern from one academic that spaces like Liverpool One which were always clean made their more ordinary neighbours look more tatty and thus encouraged abjection. In other words, these ultraclean, shiny places might encourage the rejection anything dirty, and that might involve homeless people: “If any dirt enters this space [Liverpool One] – that includes dirty individuals as well as just dirt – then you notice it and you become a little bit intolerant towards it. And I do not know if that is a good idea, because life is a bit dirty sometimes: it is messy” (academic 4).

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Only four interviewees, three of whom were academics, thought that Liverpool One was a bit too clean and too sanitised. Broadly speaking, most respondents felt that such a clean space was very pleasant.

In response to Liverpool One’s pristine environment, three interviewees noted that neighbouring businesses, chiefly the Church Street BID (Business Improvement District) area, were trying smarten-up to compete – aided by £75 million of public money for public realm improvements. Despite this, one online survey participant and nine interviewees – who almost all worked in promoting commerce, the media, academia and regeneration – listed their issues with Church Street and to a lesser extent, The Ropewalks, which are both adjacent to Liverpool One. These included graffiti, vandalism, dirt, chewing gum, litter, heavy drinking, men urinating in corners, un-cleaned-up spillages and vomit, begging, illegal street trading, advertising and other clutter, and falling over cracked paving stones, dented bollards and things that have been left where people walk. These issues were not found in Liverpool One with the exception of heavy drinking, in Chavasse Park. Criticised pre-Liverpool One for being a green space “full of the drunk and the dispossessed” (local commentator 2), two interviewees noted that heavy drinking endured, though now the drinkers were sat at tables in outdoor bars and paying a lot more. Yet despite attempts to manage this list of issues, Liverpool One’s neighbours couldn’t compete with the scheme’s underground infrastructure – a facility that was felt to elevate the quality of Liverpool One’s environment above any other adjacent streets, however well-managed. Furthermore, the sheer expense of providing underground parking/servicing will ensure that Liverpool One will always be in a league of its own. This raises questions about the fair handedness of Liverpool City Council in their approach across the city centre, given their conflicted role as development partners in a scheme which has such advantages over its neighbours.

7.3.5 Seemingly light touch security Ten interviewees from all backgrounds and two online survey participants felt the level of comfort experienced in Liverpool One was enhanced by the fact the scheme had a safe, busy feel to it. In addition, credit was given to Grosvenor for managing the scheme’s security with a seemingly light touch. However, it was acknowledged that, while security was very, very discreet, the control was definitely there. Indeed the scheme’s measured quiet was only achievable through Grosvenor being very much in control of the people within the scheme: there are about 400 security cameras in Liverpool One, which far dwarfs the city as a whole. Through these

196 cameras, a development partner explained that if someone was seen doing something Grosvenor didn’t particularly want people to do, security guards were sent to have a chat with that person. This was preferable to having unwelcoming signs around the scheme saying “‘no bikes’, ‘no ball games’, ‘no this’, ‘no that’” (development partnership 1). Known as the Redcoats, they were mocked for trying to be a welcoming version of a security guard. They were likened to Butlins Redcoats. For others though, the Butlins-style makeover, whereby the Redcoats were both security guards and friendly helpers, seemed to work and their presence was not deemed authoritarian: “there are all these Liverpool One guides walking around, and I think people feel safer because of that: it’s not, you know, oppressive” (regional regeneration organisation 1).

Yet in reality personal freedoms were lost in Liverpool One. An example given by Grosvenor, of something that would qualify for a chat from a Redcoat, was having a snooze on the seating. To combat snoozing: “you just have to have the Boys in Red [Redcoats] out there, walking around and giving people a prod when they nod off” (development partnership 1). Four interviewees said they had been on the receiving end of a Redcoat’s chat: an academic for taking photos, an economic development practitioner for taking a study group into Liverpool One and another academic for cycling within the scheme – although the latter felt they were more shouted at, than chatted to. A further interviewee, a planning consultant, even returned to their bicycle to find the Redcoats had attached an additional lock to it, making it impossible for them to move it: “If you park your bike in certain places, chain it to certain railings, you will find a label on it when you get back, saying you don’t chain it here. One time I had to go to the security offices to get them to unlock my bike: they lock it on [to the railings], so you have to go to them to have it unlocked and then they give you a polite lecture about where to leave your bike” (consultant 2). Snoozing, taking photos, walking in groups and riding/parking bicycles are hardly deviant behaviours. The fact these behaviours were problematic again raises one of the key debates about Liverpool One: that it is a place which is relatively restrictive in terms of the behaviours that can take place in there. The issue was first raised in chapter six, with the determination of the Quakers to keep their freehold so they could stand outside their building and hold protests.

The issue of having a behavioural code determined and enforced by private ownership was raised as a concern by eight interviewees – particularly academics and local commentators/objectors. However, even the interviewee who received

197 the polite, but “bit oppressive” lecture on cycle parking felt that they could begrudgingly settle for only using the scheme’s designated cycle-parking facilities because, overall, they were delighted by Liverpool One, and by the fact such a scheme had been delivered in Liverpool (consultant 2). If aesthetics were so important to Liverpool One, then they were willing to give and take a little on where to park a bicycle. This has parallels with the claim made in the literature review that the promise of high quality design can help keep planning processes frictionless, where otherwise there might be objections. In Liverpool One’s case, it could be argued that high quality design is being used as an aesthetic device to make infringements on personal freedoms acceptable where otherwise there might be protest. By fetishising design in this way, image is of paramount concern, rather than social values or personal freedoms. As a result, Liverpool One was forgiven for its infringements – however small – partly because it was such a high quality, and thus popular, scheme.

7.4 Trouble in paradise: the problems of an oasis As a new ‘plug-in’ development, Liverpool One was able to sit still within the existing fabric of the city. This raises questions around how this was achieved. As such this section examines the dynamics which have enabled Liverpool One to remain unruffled by its city centre surroundings. Furthermore, given that the scheme sought to be a an example of design excellence, this also raises questions of how very high quality design sits within the existing built environment of the more ordinary, work-a-day city around it. In this respect, there is a particular focus on the edge of the scheme.

7.4.1 The edge Five respondents: three online survey participants and two interviewees described Liverpool One as seamless in the way sat within its neighbouring built environment. In fact one development partner had heard from people that they didn’t know where the project stopped and started because it was so well integrated into the city. However, repeatedly, in the study, the weakest aspect of the scheme was identified as its edge. One online survey participant and fourteen interviewees – predominately built environment professionals – identified various issues around the edge of Liverpool One. However, the irony of the edge being the weakest feature was that the scheme was intended to be an exercise in building in the round. It was not supposed to have backs or an outside edge. It was supposed to be fully worked into the fabric of the city.

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7.4.2 Backs Five interviewees – two councillors, a journalist, an academic and a development partner – brought up various problems posed by the scheme’s not-supposed-to- exist backs, although one academic felt it was ridiculous to even think a scheme could be developed that did not have backs. (Given its underground infrastructure though, Liverpool One was well positioned to try.) There was the problem from the outset in that, to the west, the scheme was book-ended by the law courts and the police headquarters. One of the challenges of the scheme was actually to cover these “deeply ugly buildings” (local politician 2). As such, the police headquarters were to be screened by The Hilton, and the law courts were to be screened by One Park West, but seeking to screen existing buildings with new buildings, while not creating a back to your own scheme, proved difficult. This was especially, in the case of Liverpool One, where the two key screening buildings of The Hilton and One Park West were also being utilised to form an enclosure around Chavasse Park (Fig 7.14).

Figure 7.14: The police headquarters and the law courts were to be screened - by The Hilton (right) and One Park West (left) (Base plan: http://www.bdp.com/en/projects/a-e/Chavasse-Park/)

It was noted by four interviewees that the worst area for feeling like a back, and for having a weak sense of identity, was around the bus station/John Lewis/The Hilton. However, this was the opposite of what Liverpool City Council had wanted for the area. The idea had been to open this back section into the adjacent parts of the city. Unfortunately, this hadn’t been perceived to work, with three interviewees

199 identifying weak connections with the Baltic area and also – with the south side of the John Lewis car park in particular – presenting a definite backside to the adjacent area of social housing. In fact the whole area to the south of South John Street was described as fragmented, and lacking the extra care required when a commercial space ends and a residential space starts. However some of the blame was pinned on John Lewis who refused to have doors on the outside edge of the scheme, to greet those arriving via Duke Street and those arriving from the bus station. Following pressure from Liverpool City Council, however, they agreed to have doors facing the buses. Despite their admitted nervousness about challenging John Lewis, the door facing the bus station was viewed as a small victory for social equality.

7.4.3 Techniques associated with segregation Although it was regarded by some to fit seamlessly into the city, the scheme’s design used many techniques associated with segregation. Altogether seven respondents – six interviewees and one online survey participant – discussed physical techniques which actually made the scheme feel separate from the rest of the city. These included, as already highlighted, the coherency of design/limited colour palettes and using new buildings for screening. Also mentioned was designing the faceted sides of the bridge between John Lewis and its car park to allow those crossing to see only the desirable views. On one side people saw the Cathedral, but no dull buildings, and then when they crossed the other way they saw views to the Albert dock, but not the bus station. Although not mentioned by respondents, from site visits, it was clear that, where new routes had been created, they directed attention to desirable vistas like the zig-zag steps (Fig 7.15). The niches in the rooflines too, directed the eye to the best sights (Fig 7.16). In these sorts of ways, two interviewees noted that the scheme had began to create its own kind of slightly rarefied feel, with an almost Disney-like air to the streets. While not mentioned by the respondents, again from site visits, it could be argued that the hiding of servant space within the underground infrastructure could only intensify this.

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Figure 7.15: New routes directed Figure 7.16: Directing the eye to the

attention to desirable vistas best sights (Littlefield, 2009, p.160)

(Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

Again, from site visits, other ways of suggesting segregation were identified. The beginning of Liverpool One was heralded by gateway features, including the playful Costa Coffee with its coloured pipes (Fig 7.17) and the vaulting geometries of the Bling Bling Building (Fig 7.18). There was also the use of the five urban quarters within the scheme (more of which in section 7.5.6). By carefully dividing the scheme into segmentations in this way, the quarters were themed to feel distinct from the rest of the city while still physically being a part of it. In these ways, despite scheme designers laying an emphasis on building in the round, Liverpool One did much to ensure the scheme wasn’t interrupted by its surroundings. This relates to the concept of ‘stonewalling’ which was introduced in the literature review, whereby everything outside the official narrative of, say, an outdoor mall is silenced or stonewalled to keep people contentedly within it, while the reality outside evaporates. However, when an outdoor mall is used as a driver for city centre regeneration, this raises questions about how stonewalling sits with broader regeneration aims of social inclusion.

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Figure 7.17: The Costa gateway Figure 7.18: The Bling Bling Building

feature (Photographer: V. Lawson, gateway feature (Photographer: V. 2017) Lawson, 2017)

7.4.4 The outer edge Liverpool One also had edge issues further afield: one academic highlighted the issue that the scheme actually had an outer edge. Before and during the building of Liverpool One, the road corridor between the M62 and Liverpool city centre was being widened to create a consistent dual carriageway/urban boulevard: the Edge Lane expressway. With a planned finish date of 2008, it was intended to be a modern gateway into the city centre. However, it involved demolishing over 400 homes in the inner urban neighbourhoods of Edge Hill and Kensington, where there were: “Compulsory purchase orders all over the place to knock down hundreds of houses, hundreds of homes, to get that gateway through to places like Liverpool One ... yes, there has got to be ease of access, but the knock-on effect of that was to destroy communities, poor communities, on the way into the city” (academic 4). This raises two issues. Firstly, poor neighbourhoods suffered to create the large highway capacity which enables Liverpool One, a very expensive investment, to flourish and produce a return. Secondly, while Grosvenor felt it was fundamental to point out that the scheme was 100% private investment and “not a single penny of public money went into the Liverpool One project” (development partnership 6), its outer edge demonstrates how the public purse paid for the necessary infrastructure and peripheral work which, again, allow this scheme to flourish. The cost of the

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Edge Lane expressway alone was £65 million. Additionally, the scheme cost the council about £10 million in terms of staff resources (development partnership 3) – while the CPO land assembly bill came to £140 million (Unger, 2007). It could be argued that this – ideologically – is an attempt to privatise public funds.

7.4.5 Zones of influence and chaotic edges While Liverpool One was able to sit still as a haven/oasis within the existing city centre, activity was felt to be pushed out instead to its boundaries. Traffic, for example, concerned six interviewees. While Liverpool One was pedestrianised, the streets which girded it were described as turning into racetracks. The Strand had long been busy, but Hanover Street in particular – post-completion of Liverpool One – had new problems. It had become, basically, traffic frazzled. It was felt it lacked the capacity to service the new bus station. However, more worryingly, its casualty rates had become one of the highest in, not only Liverpool, but the country. Other activity was pushed to the boundaries too. As already highlighted, the Goths, Moshers and Emos were pushed back to the scheme’s edge, to Derby Square. In addition, one academic mentioned that there had been two Occupy movements (The Love Activists Merseyside) on the fringes of Liverpool One. On the northern side a building was claimed for the homeless, and then on the southern side (in the Ropewalks) a recently closed community pub was claimed, in protest of its loss: “they would not be able to do that in Liverpool One: that is for sure” (academic 4).

In terms of the chaotic edges of Liverpool One, a key point to make is that, from the outset of the scheme in the 1990s, the council had put forward the idea of a key development site bounded by “zones of influence” (Littlefield, 2009, p.26) (Fig 4.23, chapter 4). Although only mentioned by one interviewee, a development partner, they recalled how the city council put a fuzzy line around the scheme and said, “you developer, go away and tell us how your scheme can best integrate with the city and best encourages other developments in the peripheral areas to our prime site” (development partnership 6). The developer was to work towards a design that would help regenerate the adjacent areas, the zones of influence, so that the benefits of the scheme would spread out. However, post-completion, the edge problems of Liverpool One raise questions about whether this zone is too chaotic to effectively encourage regeneration.

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7.4.6 The contrast in tight controls There was also felt to be disorder around the edges because of the differences in policy covering the public streets and the more strict private corporate controls of Liverpool One. In terms of policy, Church Street was perceived to be: “Full of things like buskers which we don’t control, sellers which we can’t control ... and begging and all of that type of stuff. ... There are certain times in the week, particularly Saturdays, when it is not a nice experience being on Church Street” (local NGO 1). No auditions are required for busking in Liverpool’s public streets. In 2012, due to the sheer amount of public opposition, Liverpool City Council soon abandoned its so-called ‘Simon Cowell clause’ which allowed the police or council officials stop ‘poor quality’ performances. Buskers do need to audition to perform in Liverpool One, however, through submitting their performances via YouTube.

7.5 The power of benign good design

“It works: it’s been a very clever piece of master planning” (regional regeneration organisation 1)

“It [Liverpool One] works brilliantly” (regional regeneration organisation 2)

“It’s just an environment that works” (consultant 2)

“The whole thing works” (consultant 1)

“We can all agree it works” (academic 2)

Despite such praise, the aim of this section is to examine whether Liverpool One universally works, or perhaps works for some people, some of the time. Although the scheme was regarded as “more welcoming than a normal high street” (regional regeneration organisation 1), from the study it became clear that there were some people who were not seen there. The first part of this section examines which people were perceived to be missing from Liverpool One, before exploring why even some people who use the scheme feel uncomfortable within the scheme’s spaces.

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Examining these issues is important as people working to secure high quality urban design tend to do so in the understanding that such work is in the general public interest (Biddulph, 2011, p.101). ‘Good design’ is beneficial for people – or at worst, benign. However, the findings in this section contest that view.

7.5.1 Socio-spatial impacts of high-end shopping The ambition of Liverpool One was not only to develop a massive new extension to Liverpool’s retail offer, but an extension of higher quality with a superior mix (Littlefield, 2009, p.34). However, how was Liverpool to lift its retail offer without causing polarisation? This is especially relevant in the light of two issues. Firstly, before Liverpool One, seven interviewees – of whom none were involved in the scheme design – highlighted that the city was more happenstance in its retail offer. It was the opposite of polarised. There would be an expensive shop next to a not- so-expensive shop. While there were upmarket shops, Ted Baker for example, with the exception of those in the 2006 Metquarter scheme, they tended to be scattered. Thus, because they stood alone, they failed to change people’s impression of Liverpool. This brings matters to the second issue, that Liverpool One had an opposite approach. It was intended that the more attractive shops would agglomerate in Liverpool One. The theory is that retail agglomeration occurs because, when clustered together, upmarket shops can attract more people – people for whom a single unit would not be that appealing. Agglomeration was key to Grosvenor because they were openly targeting the scheme towards the middle classes, particularly middle-class housewives in the region who were too easily diverted to Chester or Manchester (Unger, 2007). The sheer quality of Liverpool One’s environment was intended to encourage the middle classes to visit.

Nine interviewees believed that Liverpool One was specifically designed to appeal to the middle classes or to ‘The Wirral’ – including two development partners – which, it could be argued, is a colloquialism for the middle classes in the Merseyside area. Of these, four felt that in terms of the provision of space, Liverpool had lacked a suitable response to the middle classes and that a whole new area of the city catering for middle-class shoppers was much needed. This, in turn, was regarded an indicator of a mature city: “Everywhere has got a place, hasn’t it, and a purpose to play in a city. This [Liverpool One] has a purpose: and it does not detract that much from other purposes ... cities are variegated, they are diverse aren’t they?” (academic 2).

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“There is a place in the city for everybody now ... you have different areas where people find their place, you know what I mean. And I think Liverpool One has contributed to that. ... It has created more areas for people to find a place for themselves. ... Now everyone has a place, and for some that’s St John’s” (local commentator 2)”. The reference to St John’s highlights the issue of polarisation in Liverpool city centre. In total thirteen interviewees and two online survey participants brought up St John’s and portrayed it as a total contrast to Liverpool One – though, interestingly, not one person involved in the scheme design discussed St John’s. In St John’s virtually every store was described as a bottom-end-of-the-market discount clothing outlet: “if you want absolute bargain basement you go to St John’s” (local NGO 4). Likewise the area beside St John’s, Williamson Square, was brought up by six interviewees – again no scheme designers – with most expressing their concern about its descent from the home of the former, pre- Liverpool One John Lewis store to offering the lowest grade shopping there is. To compound matters, as four interviewees – including two development partners – highlighted, the sheer success of connecting the city centre with its waterfront had caused a draining downhill of development activity, towards the River Mersey. In fact, Liverpool One’s most upmarket businesses, which were perceived to be John Lewis and The Hilton, were deep into the scheme, almost at the River Mersey. In this way, Liverpool One could benefit from its proximity to the waterfront attractions and the heavy footfall heading towards them. As such the axis of the city had shifted towards the River Mersey, to the benefit of Liverpool One.

The end result was polarisation, though rather than polarisation, several interviewees – including a local councillor – just saw different people with different shopping needs resulting in different retail offers in separate positions. It was pointed out that all retail offers couldn’t be jammed up in Liverpool One. Polarisation was perceived instead as a form of ‘balance’. Liverpool city centre had previously felt dominated by cheap, subsistence, bargain-hunting shopping (Taylor and Davenport, 2009, p.30). By introducing a more luxury element this could bring balance to the city centre, and thus help reinvigorate it as a whole. A similar argument has been made about introducing more upmarket housing into deprived areas to introduce more affluent people to balance communities and reinvigorate local housing markets (Biddulph, 2011, p.100). However, a key point to make is that different social groups were not spread evenly throughout the city centre. From a social cohesion point of view this makes Liverpool One in danger of

206 becoming an enclave because the retail offer is segregating different sections of society.

7.5.2 A place that is not for everyone In the face of criticism that Liverpool One only catered for more affluent shoppers, a development partner defended the scheme. They highlighted that their market research showed that nearly everyone who lived ‘in core’, the catchment of 30 minutes drive time from the scheme, shopped with Liverpool One: “in terms of what that demographic profile looks like, that core is not the affluent” (development partnership 1). However the development partner would concede that Liverpool One was a very expensive investment which needed to produce a return, and that – in order to do that – rents had to be pushed up to the point where only the upper market traders could locate in Liverpool One. This was regarded as one of the successes of the scheme: “I think that is a positive feature of it: [that] the rental level is such that it keeps out things which might detract from the overall brand that it is promoting” (national regeneration organisation 2). Ten interviewees – of which only one was involved in the scheme design – felt that the store mix dictated who was to be found within the scheme, with about half of these believing the overall brand being promoted was aspirational, predominately through John Lewis, but also through iconic stores like Apple, Nike and Bose. It was highlighted that, for places to work, they had to be appealing, they have to motivate somehow and these types of stores motivated. However, this type of store mix was far removed from the concerns of the city’s poorest. Five interviewees, all of whom had worked in the area at some point, pointed out that were certain types of people who were never seen there. They listed ‘scallies’ (a colloquialism for roguish, self-assured youths), the unemployed, ‘rough people’ and poorer locals. In this way, by keeping the rental level high and the store mix aspirational, this can also be perceived as one of the failings of Liverpool One.

Liverpool One was not for everyone, people had to have money, a certain type of status to go there. However, it was felt that “Grosvenor would be careful about how they said that” (academic 3). The counter argument was that people with little money can still go and look around Liverpool One because that does not cost a penny: “In the early days, there was quite a lot of people saying, ‘oh it’s not for me’ you know, I could not afford to go there. And we would sort of say, ‘well

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have you actually been to have a look around because it does not cost you a penny?’. And the answer was always, ‘no’” (development partnership 1). While the development partner sounded surprised that the answer was always no, two academics wondered why, for people with little money, why they would do this. Walking past a lot of expensive shops when they couldn’t buy anything would be depressing and would just remind them about how poor they were. Indeed, the two academics felt that those developing Liverpool One perhaps lacked sensitivity about how being in these spaces would feel to those with little money. The terrace of restaurants was given as an example of one such mis-judgement. It was noted by a third interviewee that, while the steps were intended to be a gathering place where people would sit, the space was not working-out as originally envisaged. Instead, the reality of The Terrace was a socially awkward space. The diners were on the upper deck and then, sat on the steps, the non-diners would actually be gathering at their feet (Fig 7.19). It was as if those on the steps were “the hoi polloi” (academic 3): the lower orders.

Figure 7.19: The Terrace was perceived to be a socially awkward space (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2016)

7.5.4 Feelings of exclusion In response to this type of critique of Liverpool One’s spaces, there were some rather harsh words on the topic of people feeling excluded: “I think that nobody is excluded, yet people feel themselves to be excluded. I would not be aware of what or how all the reasons for it” (local politician 1).

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“[Liverpool One] wasn’t designed specifically to exclude people. It was designed to give a high-quality city centre and to help connectivity throughout the city centre, okay? ... If you choose not to use it because you feel uncomfortable in it then I don’t think that is Grosvenor’s or the city council’s problem. I don’t think it is an issue for them, I think it is an issue for others, yeah? They do not have bouncers on the doors ... if you feel uncomfortable walking across that boundary into Liverpool One, I don’t think it is necessarily the fault of Grosvenor” (development partnership 4). While there were no bouncers, there was still a sensed admission criteria, a certain pressure: “There are people in Liverpool who do not go into Liverpool One. They just know, because the message is there, that it is not the space for us. Now, that does not mean there are people on the door saying: ‘you can’t come in’” (academic 4). Yet it appears it is the individual’s problem if they feel a sensed admissions criteria. Again this is individualising what is actually a social issue, a problem first highlighted in the previous chapter with the belief that planners should shoulder the responsibility if statutory objections are received. Similarly, the following comment captures the same attitude in relation to the decline of neighbouring retailing areas: “It [Liverpool One] has been ... negative for the traditional [shopping] area around the Metquarter and St John’s, but that is their fault really, not Liverpool One’s fault” (local politician 2). It is the neighbouring retailers’ fault that they are not doing well: the city council helped create the polarisation and then expects those now ‘herded’ into less attractive areas to shoulder responsibility for their performance. Swyngehouw (2009, p.612) highlights this postpolitical tendency: that problems are not the result of the ‘system’ and its non-egalitarian approaches, but are the fault of outsiders – they are blamed when things don’t work.

This might help explain why there appears to be an unwillingness to confront the relationship between design and social injustice. While, for politicians, delivering a scheme like Liverpool One can bring political glory – it is, after all, a very visible sign of Liverpool City Council’s achievements – there seems to be a lack of desire to probe more deeply into those aspects of Liverpool One which are not working. This may be because Liverpool One is working for Liverpool City Council: it works very well, financially. The city council benefits from the scheme in that the more money it makes, the more money the council receives (chapter 8). However viewing Liverpool One purely as a financial success can hinder a better understanding of the

209 wider logic at play in developing schemes of this nature – which is ultimately harmful to good governance. However, to refer back to the second quote in this section: it is true that no blame can be pinned on Grosvenor if people feel uncomfortable walking across the boundary into Liverpool One. Grosvenor is a private firm and there can be no obligation on any firm to try to meet everybody’s needs (Crouch, 2004, p.89). They can choose – across their 42.5 acres – which segments of society they wish to cater for. However, public services differ fundamentally from this, in that they must be universal in their potential scope. Liverpool City Council should provide for those members of the public in which Grosvenor – or any other private profit-making firm – has no interest. If it is anyone’s fault that some people avoid Liverpool One, it could be argued it’s the fault of Grosvenor’s development partners, Liverpool City Council. The masterplan explicitly stated that the scheme was to be inclusive (Grosvenor, 2004, p.5). However, other than being a nice place to walk through on a sunny day it’s not wholly apparent how that was to be achieved.

There are other ideological issues too, all of which have been covered by the press. Liverpool City Council is the development partner in a scheme where, in 2016, two businesses – Monsoon and Sports Direct – were under investigation for failing to pay workers the minimum wage. A third business, Barbar Barbar was in the papers for not allowing women to enter, only ‘gentlemen’. Then Waterstones hit the headlines for going incognito, under different names and opening branches that masqueraded as small independent book stores, prompting accusations of deception. While previously, in the construction phase, the scheme had featured in the press for banning Trade Unions from the site and the death of a construction worker – an illegal immigrant. Generally though, for all its issues, the scheme was defended for creating employment and fourteen interviewees from all backgrounds acknowledged that Liverpool One had brought jobs to the city – though admittedly largely low skill/low wage service industry jobs. In a scheme that repeatedly comes across as largely concerned with identifying profitability, job creation is one way in which Liverpool One is about alleviating poverty.

7.5.5 Everything is fine Fifteen of the total 28 interviewees – from all backgrounds – expressed support for the creation of a new city quarter regardless of loss of happenstance and polarisation. Moreover eight interviewees – including a key development partner – acknowledged displacement had happened because of Liverpool One. This was especially for those who could not retain their former trading position in the area

210 and had been driven out by high rents. However, repeated by all eight was the perception of Liverpool as a big place, with a plentiful vacant shops and sites for the displaced to relocate: “we’re not short of empty space” (regional regeneration organisation 1). Given this general indifference, it could be argued that most of those involved in the study were happy with Liverpool One because they felt some gentrification wouldn’t do Liverpool any harm. Ultimately “[we want] an environment which is normal” (local politician 1). Rather than ‘normal’, previously Liverpool was felt to be behind the times: “So what it [Liverpool One] really did was, it dragged Liverpool into the same kind of space that, I suppose, that all the other cities in the UK had already been occupying for quite some time” (regional regeneration organisation 2). Three online survey respondents and nine interviewees – three built environment professionals, two local commentators, two economic development practitioners, an academic and a councillor – and described Liverpool One as, essentially, a ‘catch- up’ project. For them, Liverpool had been a city asleep. It had fallen behind the times and needed to catch up on the already-redesigned city centres, like Birmingham, and other regional shopping areas like Chester and Southport. However six interviewees – three built environment professionals, a local commentator, an economic development practitioner and an academic – highlighted that falling behind Manchester was the greatest concern. In this light, if the creation of a new city centre district meant loss of happenstance, polarisation and displacement, then this was generally perceived to be fine. If Liverpool was to achieve its qualitative and quantitative breakthrough in its retail offer, then “something had to give, didn’t it?” (regional regeneration organisation 1).

7.5.6 An allowance of space for social good In terms of offering something for the poorer people of Liverpool, one suggestion, by an academic, was an allowance of space for a social good. This would have given people a reason to enter the scheme which was not about consumption, other than the Quaker Meeting House/peace garden and Chavasse Park. It would have been a nice gesture, to make the scheme feel more welcoming. The academic continued that, whereas the Victorians sought to elevate the public by gifting facilities like Liverpool’s Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool One was only aspirational in terms of aspirational consumption – though peppered with attempts to manufacture civic-ness, like playing ping-pong.

No secret was made about the fact Liverpool One was created around consumer profiles. It was explained that the masterplanners and the commercial team

211 worked in parallel developing their marketing and lettings strategies and intentionally created thematic segmentations of a space based on ideal consumers (development partnership 6). This is how the scheme came to be divided into five urban quarters, each with its own character, ambience and scale. Hanover Street was to be suburban comfort, Paradise Street was to be urban fashion or urban intelligence, Peter’s Lane was to be high quality, aspirational boutiques or symbols of success, South John Street was to be family-centred mid-market or happy families and The Park was to be all about leisure (Grosvenor, n.d.). Despite the fact the quartering was so closely allied to consumption, one councillor involved in the scheme design insisted that “we certainly did not want something which did not feel right to the population and to the city/citizens” (local politician 1). However, this raises questions about those citizens who are not in a financial position to consume, an issue which led one academic to ask: “What is a public citizen nowadays? What kind of city are we creating? ... I want to know what they mean by ambience [quartering] and what was the idea behind this part of the design [creating ambiences] ... What was the thinking? What is your ideal citizen? What are they doing in that space? The ideal citizen here is a shopper – first and foremost” (academic 4). CABE supported the 'city quarter' model of urban design implied by Liverpool One’s masterplan (CABE, 2004, p.25). For CABE quartering was associated with varying the scheme’s nature and scale across the site. However, as highlighted in the previous chapter, city quartering can be used to potentially foreclose which urban/social issues will be addressed in an area. When intertwined with a consumer profile approach, foreclosing issues could potentially become quite extreme. In this way, despite CABE’s support, city quartering can represent an urban design ideal that can become distorted in its delivery.

However, three interviewees highlighted that the scheme could still be dominated by consumption and provide a service to the citizens of Liverpool. All it had to do was sell groceries and necessary provisions there. Other than a first-floor Post Office and a Tesco on its edge, there was felt to be no opportunities within the scheme to do a weekly shop. Again, from a social cohesion point of view, by not offering weekly food shopping, Liverpool One was felt to be in danger of becoming an enclave. In contrast, St John’s – although marred by an oversupply of pound shops and an aesthetically disappointing design – was acknowledged for providing a local service in terms of the goods sold there, “St John’s is fundamentally important: it provides household shopping” (academic 2). Similar to the over- pedestrianisation issues highlighted previously, not providing for grocery shopping

212 was considered a civic failing of the scheme.

7.5.7 Too much focus on presentation To refer to the literature review, the whole city can be considered as a design product. However, this can extend to us: the aesthetics of people. With an onus on design/presentation can come a certain amount of pressure about personal presentation. In the literature, Zeisel highlighted that spaces like Liverpool One are like a stage set. For visitors to this stage set, some back-stage preparation is required. People can feel the need to smarten up before visiting, as evidenced in the following quote: “You have to put some effort in. As much as they tried to promote them as relaxed spaces, they are actually spaces that you need to invest a lot of labour into ... to actually prepare yourself to go into that space. And you do that yourself, you know, nobody is ordering you to do it, but you are kind of sensible enough to know that you are going somewhere so you have got to dress up. You are not going down the market. You are not going down to your Tesco Metro at the end of the road, you are going into Liverpool One, and that is important” (academic 4). This quote usefully captures the essence of self-correction: that if a certain tone is set by a place – and people are willing to put-in the effort – they respond to that tone. People are self correcting. For example, Grosvenor believed at Liverpool One people were looking for “a fabulous environment” (Littlefield, 2009, p.141). Self- correction suggests that when faced with a fabulous environment, people would rise to the occasion and dress up more to enter that space.

The problem is, then people might look around themselves and feel that other people were better dressed – causing some to feel that they are actually in competition with other people in that space (academic 4). In these ways, although much was made of Liverpool One’s environment being largely neutral and background, it was actually powerful. Far from being neutral, space can represent itself to people in a certain way and people’s sense-of-self can change when they go into that space. In this vein, from the research it emerged that some people – even regular users – did not feel comfortable in the spaces of Liverpool One. This discomfort stemmed from a perceived pressure about how people should present themselves, a pressure that was felt to be an extension of society in general, including through websites like Facebook. For instance one interviewee, an academic, said that they had heard many times – mainly, though not entirely, from

213 students – that they will go into a space in Liverpool One and instantly feel a discomfort: “I always say, why are you feeling uncomfortable? [The reply is] I have not got money to spend in here. I do not look right to be in this shop. I am not either young enough or old enough to be in the shop ... there is this un- comfortableness, even for people who use the space regularly ... [and] they just felt ... that they were in competition with other people in that space ... so there is kind of a new elitism, which is not a very healthy thing ... it is all about anxiety ... and how do you present yourself. So this is all about presentation which is having – I would say – a negative impact on some of us, sometimes” (academic 4). Yet, this anxiety is contra to the thinking behind the scheme, whereby “it was hoped that the whole sense of success in there [Liverpool One] would rub-off on people and they would feel comfortable” (local partnership 1). In this way, people were supposed to pick-up on the cues of success and fabulousness and feel comfortable, not anxious. This unpredictability of people’s feelings relates to phenomenology, that people form their own decisions about place-character as understood through their own personal response to a place. As such, an onus on presentation can work in other ways than intended by the designers.

For sceptics of self-correction, it was actually observed to be at work in Liverpool One, in its quartering. One interviewee, a local journalist, pointed out that very few families with screaming kids were seen in the prestige design area (Peter’s Lane) and that, instead, this group gravitated to where they felt more comfortable, South John Street. Of course, this was the intention behind the design, in its thematic quartering, whereby the design team were given clear briefs about the environment they were to create and how to reflect this in its materials: “In South John Street, you want an environment where you come with your three-year-old ... and if they are racing up and down this is quite deliberately an environment where families come and it is a bit more robust: you would never dream of putting bronze finishes [as found in Peter’s Lane] down that sort of environment” (development partnership 1). While this quote depicts quartering as a practical, no-nonsense design approach, two academics felt that it was more about social control than architecture. While acknowledging that thematic quartering did not literally mean that South John Street ‘midmarket home’ people could not enter the luxury townscape of the Peter’s Lane arcade, the ‘aspirational quarter’ – “of course they can” (academic 3) – it was

214 highlighted that some people would be receiving the message that this space was not somewhere for them.

Meanwhile the scheme’s thematic quartering was viewed as a form of social control whereby design was used to create boundaries without the use of literal mounted gates and walls, but rather by using symbolism so that, when a person walks into a space, the ambience changes almost instantly. In Peter’s Lane arcade for example – Liverpool One’s area of extreme gentrification – its highly polished aesthetic of bronze finishes, gold font and shiny black granite all act as boundary markers, subtly influencing people. Via cues signalling social status people form a perception of their place within in a space. This is especially in conjunction with the positional goods on show in shop fronts, targeted exclusively towards the well off. In this respect, spaces like Peter’s Lane are different things to different people (Fig 7.20). Surrounded by these cues some people might be comfortable and motivated to spend, while some people might leave.

Figure 7.20: The Peter’s Lane ‘aspirational quarter’. Bronze finishes, gold font and shiny black granite (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2015)

7.6 A strange way to do business In these previous sections, two issues have been raised which seem a strange way to do business. Firstly to build an area of organised shopping that makes some people feel excluded, and secondly, feel a discomfort. This raises the question that, surely that’s bad design? However, historically there has always been a close relationship between design and capitalism. Design changes so people keep replacing stuff, not because it is physically worn out, but because it looks out of date. In this way demand is continually stimulated and market saturation is avoided. It could be argued that people are supposed to feel wrong in spaces like

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Peter’s Lane – the wrong age, the wrong class or from the economic background – then people will spend money buying something to make them feel right again. This is another, more uncomfortable way to motivate people to spend. In these ways, it is clear that design is not benign.

7.7 Conclusion This chapter set out to critically examine what happens when ideas of design excellence/best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, with an interest in examining the underlying premise that high standards of urban design are benign and, in some way, universally in the public good. In this light, the findings of the chapter suggest that ideas of design excellence/best practice are not always the same as designing and managing an area of organised shopping in the best manner for local people. This was particularly evidenced by the simple fact there was nowhere to do a weekly shop in Liverpool One. With no grocery shopping, while Liverpool One may be free to visit, it is a civic space only fully open to a leisure class. It is an environment where people need money if they are going to fully engage with it. In this way, for those with money the scheme is socially improving, but a lack of money prevents others from attaching themselves to their own personal urban renaissance in its spaces.

It is also clear that there are infringements of personal freedoms taking place in Liverpool One which are justified under the cloak of design excellence, but at this point in time these are generally traded-off and accepted. Likewise, polarisation, displacement and the loss of happenstance were generally perceived to be fine – not least because it was hoped that Liverpool One, by introducing a more luxury element to Liverpool’s retail offer, could bring balance to the city centre. In a similar vein, nobody seemed to mind that Liverpool One was physically laid-out to ‘stonewall’ Liverpool realities outside.

In addition there were issues around the appropriateness of Liverpool City Council being a development partner in what might be perceived to be a middle-class shopping development – and one which has significant advantages over its neighbours in terms of amenity. A key concern was the extent to which the city council were fair handed in their approach to Liverpool city centre as a whole. Similarly, given that the public purse paid for city council staff resources, land assembly and for the necessary peripheral work which allow this scheme to flourish, it could be argued that this – ideologically – was an attempt to privatise public funds. Also, in terms of flourishing, while Liverpool One appeared to take the

216 strains and tensions of daily urban life in its own uniquely dignified manner, this was achieved via strict controls on the types of activities and behaviours that could take place there. This pushed various types of activity to its edges, making them the most chaotic aspect of the scheme. This raises questions about whether this edge zone is now too chaotic to effectively encourage regeneration, as initially anticipated in the idea of ‘zones of influence’.

Moreover, despite its reputation as an oasis, there is a lot of stress about Liverpool One. For example, there is stress on traffic-frazzled Hanover Street, there is stress for those in the gateway neighbourhoods of Edge Hill and Kensington, there is stress for adjacent businesses watching shoppers gravitate to the scheme’s better- quality streetscenes, there is stress for people with little money and there is a stress around self-presentation for those people who feel like they are part of a design product. To help illustrate this point, to personify Liverpool One, the scheme is like an inflexible perfectionist who creates stress for those around them. From its Redcoats to its colour-coded buildings, it could be argued that Liverpool One is an obsessively ordered landscape. Furthermore, those responsible for the scheme can seem unvexed by the stress, preferring instead to individualise what are actually social issues or – in fact – issues caused by urban systems they themselves created.

Finally, at the beginning of this chapter, the scheme was described as being like ‘an urban design case study’. However from a postpolitical perspective, it could be argued that viewing the scheme in this way isn’t necessarily a good thing. Through studying case studies like Liverpool One, urban design has come to embrace consensus in the form of focusing on best practice. However a key concern is whether a reliance on best practice enables solutions that side-step debate over properly political questions of how a specific city centre should be redeveloped to address its specific issues. Instead, focusing on best practice can deny the legitimacy of more radical alternatives that could be brought forward for city centre spaces. However this topic, what is best to build in a space, is covered in more detail in the next chapter: ‘Creating the right environment’.

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Chapter Eight Creating ‘the right environment’

8.1 Introduction It was claimed that the success of Liverpool One lay in creating “the right environment” (development partnership 6). This raises questions about where ideas about appropriate design, ‘the right environment’, are generated from. In this light, the Liverpool One scheme was identified as having three major influences: 1. The ‘quality’ message of the British urban renaissance, and its continental ideals, 2. The serial repetition of successful retail models (ideas from elsewhere), 3. Saying something meaningful about Liverpool (ideas from close by). As such, this chapter is divided into three parts. Given the study’s interest in the extent to which mobilities thinking can help form a better understanding of contemporary British urbanism, it draws on how different cities are implicated in each other’s past, present and future. The first part analyses the influence of other cities over the design of Liverpool One, particularly continental ideals, and the impacts of using their ideas. The second part examines the reinvention/realization and potential exportation of design ideas, whereby Liverpool One’s designs would have been altered from their origins by becoming territorialised: made local to Liverpool by the people and processes which influenced the scheme. In this way a scheme design is both relational and territorial. Given the chapter, to this point, has been uncovering the thinking behind the scheme’s ‘design geography’, the third and final section seeks to uncover the scheme’s ‘financial geography’. This, obviously, is vital as a scheme like Liverpool One is not driven by spreading ideas about spatiality and design, but by providing a real, physical place where finance and current thinking on investment and profit can locate.

Part One: outside influences

8.2 A backdrop of quality A huge influence over the design of Liverpool One was ‘quality’. Five interviewees, all with Liverpool City Council, explained that the council was intent on achieving quality. Influenced by New Labour’s urban renaissance thinking, it was decided that Liverpool One was to be about “quality, quality, quality, quality” (local politician 1). It was explained that, while the urban renaissance literature did not actually inform any specific design decisions, it provided atmospherics: a particular

218 atmosphere in which it was easier to push for design quality. Quality was crucial because it was to be through a high quality city centre intervention that Liverpool City Council sought to help reverse the city’s poor image: “If you think of the timings of this – we had just had the Healey and Baker retail report of 1999 commissioned: the same year as the Rogers report [Towards an Urban Renaissance] came out - about quality and everything else. On this, Liverpool City Council based a really clear Development Brief ... [because] we had an administration here in the council that was planning to change the image of Liverpool so ... we wanted Liverpool One to add to that rebranding of the city. So, quality” (development partnership 4). Fortunately, their aspirations for quality became a reality because Grosvenor, within financial limits, also embraced quality: “Grosvenor ... was absolutely hell-bent on delivering quality, in a commercial context of course, but quality” (development partnership 4). Fifteen interviewees, of which 11 were built environment professionals, plus one online survey participant noted the high quality of Liverpool One. This was in terms of both the scheme’s expensive materials and the thoughtfulness of its design.

Grosvenor’s commitment to quality was perceived to stem from three sources. Firstly, they needed to honour their initial commitment to the quality requirements of the Development Brief, as this commitment had formed the basis on which they’d been selected as development partners. Secondly, Grosvenor required high specifications/standards if the scheme was to stand the test of time, given they were to hold the site’s head lease for the next 250 years. Thirdly, a high quality environment, though more expensive to build, would be more stable in the long term as it would continue to attract shoppers and retail tenants. In these ways, in terms of quality there was a happy union between Liverpool City Council, Grosvenor and urban renaissance ideals.

8.3. The British urban renaissance and its continental ideals Seven interviewees – predominately built environment professionals – saw Liverpool One as very much part of the UK urban renaissance. This was especially in terms of its timing. As the scheme had come late to the table, Liverpool was able to learn from other regenerated British city centres, and as an accumulation of all this knowledge, Liverpool One was perceived to have ridden the crest of the urban design wave: representing the Zeitgeist of this country’s urban renaissance movement. However a key point to make is that British cites, in general, were perceived to be lagging behind the Continent. Emerging through the urban

219 renaissance literature was not only a penchant for quality, but for a continental urban vision. As such, six further interviewees – four involved in the scheme design, a consultant and an academic – felt that the ultimate aim of Liverpool One was to help Liverpool position itself as a top tier European city: “The whole, kind of, exciting New Labour in Britain [were] pushing the point to say: ‘we want to be more like continental cities: we have fallen behind the environment of continental cities’ ... [and] things like Liverpool One ... are arguably part of that New Labour urban renaissance” (consultant 2).

“Grosvenor did actually lose ... [their] temper with councillors about the state of the city. ... they didn’t think that anyone really understood what they had to do to become a Copenhagen or a Rotterdam ... Grosvenor said, ‘you really have to move Liverpool onto another planet’” (consultant 3). The ultimate ideal was not to emulate other British cities, but continental ones. As places to aim for – as well as Copenhagen and Rotterdam – Hamburg, Barcelona, Paris and Lisbon were listed, as well as a general admiration for what was perceived as the Dutch design response to regeneration.

Given Grosvenor had head-hunted key staff from The Netherlands, there were felt to be Dutch synergies pulled through the scheme. Against this backdrop, at the Design Review Meetings: “Oh, we had long conversations about other cities, you know, everybody would throw in [cities], particularly European cities ... we discussed lots of different examples of urban architecture, and you know people would go off on one and have side conversations. It was, you know, a very free-floating discussion: genuinely intellectual, genuinely reflective ... very amiable and interesting” (local politician 2). However one academic was angered by this approach: where a select few were chatting about continental urban architecture/infrastructure, rather than holding thorough consultation about the reality of life for Liverpool people, especially poorer people: “That is the game they are playing: it is a game, and all cities do it ... this thing we call ‘mobile urbanism’ just means that different kinds of cities swap ideas, but it is the same people swapping those ideas. It is the local elite swapping those ideas. It is fractions of capital swapping those ideas to the exclusion of public debate” (academic 4). This raises questions about whether, by looking ‘elsewhere’ at examples of urban architecture/infrastructure, the development partners overlooked local issues. This

220 repeats a theme first highlighted in chapter five, that Liverpool One’s processes seemed to dispense with the gravity of design. A drawback of British urban renaissance thinking, with its elevation of continental ideals, is it appears to give a lightness to design processes that should be more embroiled in problem solving. It also muddies the waters as to where the credit goes for new initiatives, to British cities themselves for seeking to solve their own problems, or to the Continent for providing the idea. At Liverpool One, with the provision of Citybikes, cycling was somehow seen as a Dutch import, rather than acknowledging that Liverpool has historically had a reliance on cycling, along with other cities with docks like Hull. Cycling has been a home-grown transport solution for shift workers when public transport may not be on offer.

Then there was the tram debate. Twelve interviewees – 10 built environment professionals, a local commentator and an academic – discussed various issues relating to Merseytram, the 100% street-running network aimed at areas with low car ownership and no rail access. Merseytram was never built, despite being eligible for £20m of European Objective One funding. Merseytram was both dismissed as an attempt to emulate continental cities and accepted as a place- specific attempt to address poverty and long-standing issues relating to the hollowing out of Liverpool: “Paradise Street, which is nice and wide ... was designed to take the tram. Somebody had the – utterly ludicrous – idea that Liverpool should have trams because ... a lot of continental cities have trams” (consultant 3).

“The tram was to serve poorer areas of Liverpool – Kirkby and other deprived parts of the city – along a corridor not already serviced by Merseyrail. The tram also, on the way, was to link with employment areas [and] ... there is always the argument to repopulate the city following its hollowing out, and the tram could have helped achieve that by having new housing close to new stations” (local NGO 4). While Merseytram was never built, there was a physical example within the scheme of a design which initially set out to copy the Continent, but the end result was thoroughly Liverpool. Two interviewees described how the zig-zag steps were redesigned from the original version based on the grand urban staircases found in Lisbon and Paris, into the kinked urban stairway that is seen today (Fig 8.1). After input from a Liverpool City Council building control officer, the stairs were redesigned with “Liverpool on a Friday night in mind, you know” (consultant 3). They were specifically designed to limit how far an intoxicated person could tumble

221 downwards, via regular landings which each featured a turn. The end result, as seen in a later section, is regarded as one of the high points of the scheme, more so than the Kenyon Steps, a more traditional, continental-style stone urban staircase (Fig 7.6, chpt 7). This demonstrates that home-grown problem solving can yield better results than looking to the Continent.

Figure 8.1: ‘The zig-zag steps’ kinked urban stairway (Photographer: V. Lawson)

To end this section, the Continent clearly influenced the scheme design both through the mood of the British urban renaissance literature and through actually seeking to emulate examples of continental urban infrastructure/architecture. Examples like trams, Citybike schemes and urban staircases, however, tend to present certain Continental stereotypes, as if schemes like Liverpool One are seeking to meet certain aspirational ‘benchmarks’. It could be argued that if Liverpool takes on certain continental characteristics, this will increase its chances of being referenced as a top tier European city. In this vein, the next section further examines the copying ideas from elsewhere, with a particular interest in how – through the repetition of successful design ideas - cities become implicated in each other’s design-led regeneration efforts.

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8.4 The typologies of Liverpool One While this chapter analyses outside influences, in terms of which urban development model the scheme designers drew upon for ideas, Liverpool One is an interesting research object because the scheme had different identities for different people. While the study refers to the scheme as an outdoor mall, it was also identified as a Great Estate, a mall, a mixed-use development, a regeneration scheme and a multi-occupied, managed environment.

8.4.1 It’s a Great Estate One online survey participant plus six interviewees – three economic development practitioners, a local commentator, a councillor and a built environment professional – referred to Liverpool One as an estate. While an estate could be a pocket of the city where everything was more intensively managed by the landowners, like Liverpool’s Cavern Walks shopping centre or the Metquarter, Liverpool One was predominately referred to as a Great Estate, like those found in London. This was because it had been built by the aristocracy. With this were the perceived benefits of stewardship, whereby members of the aristocracy, single landowners, will develop and determine and then manage the entire built form for the long term.

8.4.2 It’s a mall For seven interviewees – two participants who work in promoting commerce, two academics, two local commentators and a built environment professional – Liverpool One was a very modern interpretation of a mall. A Grosvenor representative was not shy about admitting their starting point was a mall: “Quite obviously we took the roof off and took the doors away, and turned the architecture around [so it was also outward, as well as inward, facing] and, in actual fact, although we never ever call ourselves a shopping centre, everything back of house here is identical to a shopping centre” (development partnership 1). Like enclosed malls across the world, as well as shops, Liverpool One had everything that people might want from a good day out. There were cafes, restaurants, bars, a cinema, a health club, indoor crazy golf and a park. There were also two hotels. As such, Liverpool One was described by one online survey participant and thirteen interviewees – seven built environment professionals, two academics, two local commentators, a councillor and an economic development practitioner – as being a visitor attraction. However, unlike an enclosed mall, its appeal as a visitor attraction also lay in its linkages to the surrounding cultural

223 facilities like the Bluecoat and the waterfront. It was even perceived to be a gateway – a portal – to the city around it.

8.4.3 It’s a mixed-use development Given that, in addition to shops, there was hospitality and also apartments and offices, Liverpool One was perceived by five interviewees – two academics, two built environment professionals and a economic development practitioner – to be a mixed-use development. However most applied caveats to their use of the term ‘mixed use’, for two key reasons. Firstly, shops and hospitality were all about consumption, so Liverpool One was actually more about mono-use. Secondly, Liverpool One was regarded as a poor version of mixed-use, in that there was no complexity or intricacy about mixing its uses. It is only mixed-use in the sense that a line could be drawn around the scheme and there would be mixed-uses within that line.

8.4.4 It’s a regeneration scheme Only four interviewees – two built environment professionals, an economic development practitioner and a councillor – explicitly referred to Liverpool One as a regeneration project. However, another five online survey participants and ten interviewees from all backgrounds discussed various ways in which the scheme ‘ticked regeneration boxes’. Broadly speaking, it was regarded as a regeneration scheme because it turned around a below-average part of town, and helped re- image Liverpool to visitors and investors. By below-average, it was meant that the pre-development site was perceived as an under-utilised, run-down, fragmented area of poor design quality. However, not one respondent was able to say how the scheme worked to achieve the more comprehensive regeneration of the city, including socially.

8.4.5 It’s a large multi-occupied, managed environment Grosvenor representatives did not call the scheme ‘mixed use’. Instead two development partners explained that the scheme was a large, multi-occupied, managed environment. This was quite different from mixed-use. A key difference was is that a large, multi-occupied, managed environment, like Liverpool One was designed for achieving a good return on an investment by maximising revenue and minimizing operating costs. Grosvenor strives for a scheme where, ideally, every square metre works: it pays for itself. This makes space which isn’t paying for itself problematic. For its commercial viability, the scheme, as an investment, cannot tolerate spaces for non-profit-making activities, which is akin to ‘empty

224 space’. For instance, a crèche – its inclusion a planning condition – stands moth- balled in Liverpool One, above Starbucks on Paradise Street. It was never opened because it was deemed that it would not make enough money. Furthermore, ‘empty’ space was considered problematic in management terms too. For example, a Grosvenor representative reported that they were regularly asked to provide a multi-faith prayer room, a request to which they: “Do push back [because] prayer rooms are quite difficult spaces to manage ... because empty spaces in this sort of environment are a little bit of a concern. They are probably harder to manage than they are in airports” (development partnership 1). The reference to airports relates to the militant atheist who was found guilty in 2010 of leaving grossly offensive religious images in the multi-faith prayer room at Liverpool's John Lennon airport (Liverpool Echo, 2010). This was not the type of publicity Liverpool One would want for its scheme, though eventually, in 2013, a Quiet Room was created in the freehold Quaker Meeting House for use as a public multi-faith prayer room. However, for Grosvenor, a public multi-faith prayer room was potentially too volatile a space to include.

The issue of non-profit making floor space demonstrates how Liverpool One cannot actually operate as a mixed-use scheme. Yet given Liverpool One was a partnership venture, when it was put to a city council representative that they could have pressed for the inclusion of non-profit making uses, a toy library for example, the reply was that: “It would have been mad, right, [to have non-commercial space] either we would have lost significant sums of money by taking that [land] out of the scheme, and if we were renting [the space back, under the head lease] it would have cost us a bloody fortune – so why do it? It would have been a very bad deal” (local politician 2). This quote reiterates that Liverpool One was about determined money making for the public sector as well as the private sector. It also, in terms of achieving a British urban renaissance, casts doubt on the merits of this type of large retail-led scheme in sustaining the more comprehensive regeneration of a city centre, including socially – even when it’s a public-private partnership venture.

8.5 Tribute developments Having examined different perceptions of the scheme, this section investigates where those involved in the scheme design drew their key ideas. Two of the more commercially-orientated development partners – both representatives of Grosvenor

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– spoke openly of almost cherry-picking from the most attractive schemes elsewhere. In this light, while more obvious from the interviews than from Table 8.1, Liverpool One was, primarily, a tribute development to Forum Aveiro in Aveiro, Portugal (Fig 8.2). Owned by CBRE Global Investors, Forum Aveiro opened 10 years before Liverpool One in 1998 and won the 1999 MIPIM (Le marché international des professionnels de l’immobilier) award for the best shopping centre in Europe. To align these things in time, in 1999 Grosvenor were assembling their masterplanning team, ahead of their successful selection as development partners the following year. Forum Aveiro was built as a well-connected, open-air shopping complex in a city centre location, with a two-tiered street, roof-top park, food court, cinema, underground car parking and a number of apartments. While not a carbon copy, Liverpool One has much in common with Forum Aveiro, especially the South John Street/Chavasse Park area (Fig 8.3 and 7.11, chpt 7).

The two development partners admired Forum Aveiro and discussed the ways in which Liverpool One was an explicit reference to the Portuguese scheme. They liked the way Forum Aveiro was open air, they liked its canopies with the suggestion of netting about them, they liked the planting, they liked the elevated green space, they liked the arc of the street and the way the street was designed around two-tiers. Forum Aveiro was, in short, “very nice” (development partnership 5). They also liked the use of natural stone and the vibe it gave, as if the scheme was giving a nod to Portugal’s Roman past, in that it was almost like an amphitheatre. Later, Liverpool One was to include something similar. Three interviewees highlighted the echoes of mediaeval Liverpool in the design of Chavasse Park, with its natural stone ‘curtain wall’ reminiscent of Liverpool Castle, which had stood in the area atop a plateau overlooking the river: represented today in the park’s elevated topography.

In these ways Forum Aveiro and Liverpool One are sites which are not geographically proximate yet they are intensely connected to each other. They have a key difference, however: scale. Forum Aveiro has 17,500m2 of gross leaseable area, compared to Liverpool One’s 154,000m2. Scale was always a problem when looking elsewhere for design ideas. This is why, although Table 8.1 suggests the South John Street area was primarily based on the two-tier Beurstraverse in Rotterdam (Fig 8.4), the two key development partners disagreed. While they liked Beurstraverse and admitted they took a lot from it – with the arc of the street and its canopy on one side – but in terms of being a useful precedent it was just too small. Beurstraverse was much smaller than even Forum Aveiro.

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They had also looked to another Dutch example, a two-tier street – Marikenstraat – in Nijmegen, but found Marikenstraat bleak, with no canopies at all (Fig 8.5). As such, the Portuguese scheme was the main design influence, but adapted to a British climate. For interest, Table 8.1 highlights the main design features of Liverpool One which were perceived to have come from elsewhere. The frequent references to The Netherlands and Birmingham reflect where Liverpool One design staff had been previously employed.

Liverpool One, with its interrelated problem of the size of the scheme/edge issues, had no precedents on which to draw in terms of scale: “in modern retail terms, this [Liverpool One] was new thinking and there were no comparable large-scale precedents ... examples in other cities are hard to find” (consultant 3). In terms of its size, Liverpool One was something of an urban experiment. Given Liverpool One had nowhere to refer to, over issues relating to scale, this illustrates how cities seeking to recreate precedents from other cities can be a very positive process. Looking elsewhere allows cities to learn from each other. In this way, it could be argued that if there had been a comparable scheme as large as Liverpool One, those involved in the scheme design could have been better informed regarding potential edge issues.

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Figure 8.2: Forum Aveiro, Portugal, was Liverpool One’s greatest influence (https://www.tripadvisor.ie/LocationPhotoDirectLinkForum_Aveiro_Portugal.html)

Figure 8.3: South John Street, Liverpool One (http://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/whats- on/shopping/students-can-great-discounts-liverpool-11882327)

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Figure 8.4: Beurstraverse, Rotterdam. Key development partners liked this scheme and revealed that they took a lot from it (http://www.roeldijkstra.nl/foto.asp?ID=1174377)

Figure 8.5: Marikenstraat, Nijmegen. Without canopies, the scheme was felt to be bleak (http://www.dearchitect.nl/architectuur/blog/2013/11/emancipatie-van-architectuur- 10192491)

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Table 8.1: Tribute developments Characteristic of Liverpool One (2008): Tribute development to: * * * Two-tier street (South John Street) Beurstraverse, Rotterdam, 8 6 Holland, completed in 1993 Two-tier street and elevated green space, as Forum Aveiro, Portugal, 0 2 part of a retail scheme (Chavasse Park) completed in 1998 Two-tier street Chester Rows, medieval origins 2 1 Two-tier street, as part of a larger city centre Marikenstraat, Nijmegen, 0 1 scheme Holland, built as part of a larger city centre regeneration scheme spanning 1993-2000 Use of different architects within an overall Brindleyplace, Birmingham, 0 1 master plan to replicate organic growth completed in 1993 (non-retail) Providing a network of privately owned 24- Brindleyplace, Birmingham, 0 1 hour streets completed in 1993 (non-retail) Introducing an open street into a mall Bullring, Birmingham, opened 0 1 development 2003 Recreating an urban grid, rather than a Exchange Square area, 0 1 shopping mall Manchester (IRA bomb damaged area: 1996), completed in 2002 Recreating a permeable block plan Paternoster Square, London, 1 0 masterplan 1996, completed 2003 Peter’s Lane arcade Leeds arcades/Burlington 0 2 Arcade, London Masterplanned open blocks, but with different Potsdamer Platz, Berlin 1 1 architects to replicate organic growth Use of different architects within an overall De Resident, The Hague, con- 0 1 master plan to replicate organic growth structed 1998-2001 (office led) The idea of shopping-led regeneration Exchange Square area, 2 0 Manchester (IRA bomb damaged area: 1996), completed in 2002 Using natural sloping topology to change the Festival Place, Basingstoke, 0 1 levels within a new scheme (South John opened 2002 Street) Reinventing an area as high status shopping Marylebone High Street, London 1 0 Great Estate (Howard de Walden), revitalised through the 1990s * As perceived by the public ** Insights from those involved in the scheme design Tribute developments were identified from 19 responses to interviews and online surveys

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No strong opinions were expressed about utilising design ideas from elsewhere, although two interviewees – both built environment professionals – and one online survey participant felt Liverpool One had adapted designs from elsewhere effectively: “I think some of the architectural language is contemporary for when it was being designed, but don’t walk around there thinking, ‘Oh gosh, there’s one of them in Newcastle or there’s one of those in Manchester’” (national regeneration organisation 1). The lack of strong opinion suggested the scheme design was about right, in its use of designs from elsewhere. However, in terms of a contemporary architectural language, Liverpool One may not have obviously borrowed from other cities because new schemes tend to look the same. This was a key point made by nine interviewees – mainly local commentators, academics and economic development practitioners. Liverpool One was felt to share a homogeneity with schemes across Europe, a style that can be summarised from the interviews as ‘General European/Scandinavian Light Commercial Modern’.

8.6 Wanting a city which is ‘on par’ Of the nine interviewees who felt the scheme could be anywhere in Europe – of whom only one was involved in the scheme design – while five felt that this homogeneity was regrettable, four made an interesting point. While Liverpool One “just feels like you could be anywhere ... that’s not necessarily a bad thing” (consultant 1). If somebody looks around Liverpool One and feels that they could be anywhere, this means they are surrounded by a certain standard of environment that’s found in other major cities: “You want to live in a city which is on par and you want your city to be the best it can, you want your children to have opportunities, you want it to be a nice place to live, you want to have work and enjoyment and leisure: all of these obvious human things which people want. Of course we [Liverpudlians] want that” (local commentator 2). In this light, even if Liverpool One simply resembled everywhere else, a percentage of people didn’t mind. They just wanted Liverpool to be on par. For them, it seemed that design migration could have been as simple as moving design ideas around like jars on shelves: they wanted to catch-up more than innovate or overtake. This contrasts with mobilities thinking whereby it is emphasised that it is the actual being in transit, or mobilization, that changes the character and content of the mobilized object: the design idea. An academic made a similar point, that

231 design migration can actually be about delivering places that people can understand because they have seen them before: “I think that, ‘on the move again’, it is designed to explain the space in terms that the people might already understand. So, you don’t want something which you have not seen anywhere else: the developers ... want something which looks a bit like something you might recognise as an area where, young professionals might shop, or people who are buying homewares might shop, you know ... you want to know where you are going ... you want signposts, not literally but more about, ‘what type of place is this?’ ... It is a legibility device. It is designed to communicate to people what types of things go on here. And you are not supposed to be in any doubt about that ... so I think that, that thing about mobility is interesting: the architects are mobile, [but] they are not doing anything particularly maverick” (academic 3). In this way, the scheme design was about signposting a certain commercial vernacular. This something a retail scheme needs to achieve: “it is about that connection with the customer, that final hurdle that they, that everybody, has to jump through now-a-days” (local media 1). However, in terms of mobilities thinking, an outdoor mall is not necessarily re-invented during its time on the ground in its most recent location because it is a built form which is about delivering a place which is recognisable. At the same time, however, retail space has traditionally offered the opportunity for people to experience what is new and fresh. This dilemma between recognisable and new/fresh is examined in the next section.

8.7 Balancing between recognisable and new/fresh While Grosvenor would not compromise on quality in terms of building materials, design quality is always more debatable. In terms of design quality, 14 interviewees described the architecture as looking and feeling nice. Five scheme designers are in this count, including two very involved councillors. Comments included, “it is interesting, Liverpool One, because it is a collection of ‘okay architecture’: it is good, but it is not outstanding” (academic 2) – and “I don’t know whether there is any exceptional architecture on the site, I don’t think there is, but it is all pretty, bloody solid, isn’t it?” (academic 3). The architecture was described as subtle, mild-mannered, neutral, reserved, elegant and inoffensive, but also samey. One academic argued that it was samey to the extent that there was no need for the development partnership to make such a thing about 27 different architectural practices working on the scheme, because nobody would know. One architectural firm could have made buildings that different.

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Favouring more neutral architecture can be traced to the masterplan, which had assigned each building a role as either a background or signature ‘headline’ building. Broadly speaking, there was a feeling that there were too many background buildings and not enough headlines: high points. However, when there was a high point, they were regarded as really nice. Identified as the most popular were the colourfully-piped Costa facade (five interviewees, of which all were involved in the scheme design) (Fig 7.17, chpt 7), the Bling Bling building (five interviewees, of which four were involved in the scheme design) (Fig 7.18, chpt 7), the zig-zag steps (five interviewees, of which three were involved in the scheme design) (Fig 8.1 and 7.15, chpt 7) and the colourfully-lit bridge between John Lewis and its car park (three interviewees and one online survey participant, of which none were involved in the scheme design, making it a sort of ‘people’s choice’) (Fig 8.6). Of the Costa building, one interviewee stated that: “The most, in a way, the most memorable or striking single moment of the scheme ... is the [Costa] building with the brightly coloured strips [pipes] ... I am convinced the project as a whole is better for having something like that in it, because other bits of it are, frankly, slightly dull. So you need little moments like that to enrich it visually” (national regeneration organisation 2). However, a key point to make is, if outdoor mall-ing is about delivering places that people can understand because they have seen them before, people today have seen more places than ever before. Our expanded musées imaginaire have resulted in a cosmopolitanization of taste. Yet, while urban design allows people who haven’t physically moved to experience cosmopolitanism, only two respondents – an interviewee and an online survey participant – felt that the scheme was cosmopolitan. A ‘cosmopolitan’ scheme is a scheme where people can come into contact with different types of ideas about architecture, urban design and spatiality without actually having to travel to experience them. In this light three interviewees, incidentally all retired, felt that the scheme lacked variety, bright colour, punch and pizzazz: “I think people are used to bright colours and lots of colour and everything, particularly now. I’m sure people, now, would be used to that sort of thing” (local commentator 1). In contrast, a further four interviewees and one online survey participant – none of whom were involved in the scheme design – felt strongly that the scheme was adventurous. They felt it was quirky, individualistic and diverse.

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Figure 8.6: The colourfully-lit bridge between John Lewis and its car park

(https://www.e- architect.co.uk/architects/wilki

nson-eyre)

In light of the debate about adventurous designs, a development partner outlined the problem with bright colour, punch and pizzazz. Using the example of the FAT kiosk (Fig 8.7) – a bespoke piece by FAT Architects – it was explained that its architecture shouted much louder than the retailing ever could. Plus its faceted shop front made it difficult to gain insights into the retailing inside. Hence the FAT kiosk was replaced in 2012, after just four years (Fig 8.8): “It looked cool, but Liverpool One ultimately isn’t a Design Expo. It is a rapacious machine for high capitalist worship, you know. It’s for making money and it is pretty good at it, as far as I can see” (consultant 2). Ultimately Liverpool One was a retail-led scheme, not an architecturally-led scheme, and commercially, for the site, more neutral architecture worked better. However, the fact that there is a division of opinion suggests that the designs, in terms of neutral/adventurous, were – again – about right.

Figure 8.7: The FAT kiosk, replaced after four years Note that the kiosk was located in Keys Court: the punch-through arcade (https://www.flickr.com/photos/lsauld/3660514229/in/photostream/)

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Figure 8.8: The FAT kiosk replacement (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017) Part Two: the reinvention/realization/exportation of design ideas

8.8 Saying something meaningful about Liverpool itself Scheme designs, particularly for an urban-scale project, are both relational and territorial. They are an assemblage of ideas from elsewhere, but also from close by. As such, this section examines the ways in which Liverpool One was felt to be embedded into the city and thus said something meaningful about Liverpool itself. On this topic, however – of scheme designs being relational – two interviewees who were involved in the scheme design were very uncomfortable with the concept of assemblages, as if utilising ideas from elsewhere amounted to copying. Both claimed they initially had their own ideas, but would then test them to see if they had worked elsewhere and, if so, would seek comfort in this. Meanwhile a third interviewee was absolutely adamant that Liverpool itself informed the design of Liverpool One. It was self dictated: “The precedents came from Liverpool ... as opposed to coming up with a style that you might have taken from somewhere else, we were trying to build from within ... I think the most important thing was Liverpool itself was allowed to dictate form: it made it [Liverpool made Liverpool One]” (local partnership 1). However a key point to make is that, while the previous chapter identified the scheme as being a very site-specific response to the city of Liverpool, the focus is now on the more elusive ideas of how Liverpool One was perceived to say “‘this is Liverpool’, this is not anywhere else, it’s us: it is us” (local politician 1). This was especially in light of the fact the architects, apart from one, had all come from elsewhere – a point made by six interviewees: mainly development partners and academics, plus one participant who worked in promoting commerce.

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In response to criticisms of this lack of local contribution, it was argued that the whole point of using internationally recognised architects was exactly because they were in a position to carry ideas from one place to the next – and for sophisticated market branding to help persuade investors and retailers around the world to choose Liverpool (local politician 1). In anticipation, however, of designs by outside architects potentially failing to connect with the larger site of Liverpool, the city council’s Development Brief specified that the scheme was to provide uniquely Liverpool elements: “we were looking for things which were different, that were special, that were relevant” (development partnership 2). However, while five of the six development partners interviewed felt that the scheme was ‘of its place’, six interviewees who weren’t development partners felt strongly that there is nothing particularly Liverpool about Liverpool One: “There is nothing local about it. You could go to almost any city in the world, any advanced, consumer–orientated type of city, and see a Liverpool One. It has got nothing to do with Liverpool” (academic 4). Three of the four academics interviewed questioned how the scheme was communicating ‘this is Liverpool’: “what would it mean to say you do something specifically about Liverpool? What would that look like?” (academic 3). The argument continued with: “What is it [Liverpool One] actually about? How can we seize that as a phenomenon and say something about it that is meaningful, that is not just repeating something which would probably be the same in hundreds of other cities – and is valid” (academic 2). In the face of this challenge, from the interviews, there were a number of ways in which Liverpool One was felt to say something meaningful about Liverpool. The references in the design to Liverpool Castle have already been highlighted (Fig 7.12, chpt 7). Two interviewees thought that One Park West paid lip service to Liverpool’s history by resembling the prow of a ship, and two interviewees acknowledged that a Liverpool architectural practice had been given the small origami style ‘folded card’ pavilion in Chavasse Park to design (Fig 8.9). This was regarded as a modest development, but within their firepower. Three interviewees felt the redesigned, elevated Chavasse Park felt unique to Liverpool, with its views across the River Mersey. Additionally, two interviewees felt that Liverpool One had borrowed from other eras in time, when there were more dense concentrations of people on Liverpool’s streets – by trying to design a scheme that could achieve this again.

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Figure 8.9: The origami style ‘folded card’ pavilion in Chavasse Park. The only building designed by a local architectural practice

(http://www.ewa.co.uk/project/c

havasse-park-pavilion)

Three interviewees felt that Liverpool One had a strong architectural offer, which was historically consistent with Liverpool: “I think it [Liverpool One] carries Liverpool’s tradition of being a little bit devil-may-care with its own aesthetic, really” (local media 1). Its high points, in particular, were felt to be in the spirit of Liverpool by building on the architectural strength of the existing city, especially the downtown area. UNESCO designated, the interesting townscape stemmed from the rich merchants who spent a lot of money on architects and all kinds of different architectural styles for their office buildings in the area. Despite its strong architectural offer, however, three further interviewees highlighted that the scheme stopped short of adding new icons to the city. While it had its headline buildings, “there is not a single building that has been put there that would ever get anywhere near, you know, St George’s Hall, the Town Hall, the two cathedrals, the Three Graces” (local partnership 2). Broadly speaking, it was felt the city didn’t need Liverpool One to add another iconic building: “I do actually quite like that Liverpool just said ‘no, we don’t need that’” (academic 1). Liverpool had enough symbols that people could associate with the city. However nine interviewees – four development partners, a journalist, a consultant, a regeneration professional, an academic and a local commentator – highlighted the role of sightlines to bring Liverpool icons actually into the scheme and make it a place which was still recognisably part of Liverpool. The idea was to have a landmark-orientated scheme whereby sightlines to established city landmarks were achieved via cut-throughs and cut-out roof niches. As such there are sightlines to the Bluecoat cupola (Fig 7.16, chpt 7), the Anglican Cathedral and the liver buildings/liver birds, as well as opened-up new vistas of the waterfront that had been hidden for years.

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Given Liverpool One was such a major development, bringing established city landmarks into the scheme was to also enhance navigation. However, on the topic of the size of the scheme, three built environment professionals and one online survey participant felt the scheme was still too large to stand within and look around and think ‘this is Liverpool’. Furthermore, they questioned how important it was, for a major new development to be ‘of its place’. Instead they acknowledged that things move on, that the city is always in motion, especially when large scheme is introduced into the urban fabric: “I think that is a lot of the stuff about responsiveness to place in design is a lot of nonsense for major projects, because when a major project comes along, it sort of creates its own sense of place – if you see what I mean – and it cannot be spending all its time responding to things around it” (national regeneration organisation 2). Also, given the amount of new development in Liverpool city centre, it was felt that architects were looking to the city’s more modern buildings for influence. The design of the Liverpool One’s Harvey Nichols facade (2012, formerly the Habitat facade) (Fig 8.10 and 7.5, chpt 7) was believed to be influenced by the Mann Island Buildings (2010-2013) (Fig 8.11), which stand close to the scheme. Meanwhile, the design of Church Street’s new Forever 21 building (2014) (Fig 8.12) was felt to be generally influenced by Liverpool One’s contemporary vibe. In this way Liverpool One itself was starting to generate a new context for future development in the city centre. Overall, however, in the debate of how local Liverpool One is/isn’t – again – given there is debate rather than a settled answer, this suggests that the scheme is about right.

Figure 8.10: Harvey Nichols facade. Formerly the Habitat facade (Fig 7.5, chpt 7), the new frontage was believed to be influenced by the Mann Island Buildings (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

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Figure 8.11: The Mann Island buildings stand close to the scheme (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

Figure 8.12: The Forever 21 building continuing the contemporary vibe (Photographer: V. Lawson, 2017)

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8.9 Tracing forward This section traces forward and examines if ideas stemming from Liverpool One which have been copied elsewhere. However, while there was optimism that Liverpool One would inspire subsequent designs – “Liverpool One is the first of its kind, others will surely follow” (regional regeneration organisation 1) – there was a problem. Five interviewees believed the recession and the resultant downturn in development following the completion of Liverpool One had halted the onward migration of ideas. While the momentum offered by Liverpool One was felt to be lost, particpants did identify some ideas they felt could be traced forward (Table 8.2).

Table 8.2: Tracing Forward Features comparable to Liverpool One Onward Migration Using natural topography to change the Trinity Leeds levels within the scheme, opening-up key Initial planning application in 2003, site views, aiding city centre connectivity, a clearance in 2008, stalled in 2009 due to the streetscene which feels close to open air global financial crisis, recommenced in 2010, (but is actually covered) completed in 2013. Developer: Land Securities Mixed practice: hybrid scheme featuring Westfield Stratford City, London both a covered mall and a ‘community Consent granted 2005/opened 2011. feel’ open streetscene Developer: Westfield Group Masterplan approach, landmark Chester Northgate orientated, urban blocks and open streets, Consent granted: 2016. Applicant: Cheshire establishment of a Member Working Group West and Chester Council, to progress proposals to a stage where the private sector is willing to invest) ‘Traced forward’ aspects indentified from 9 responses to interviews and online surveys

Although not yet built, the Chester Northgate scheme, which gained planning consent in 2016, was identified as the most explicit reference to Liverpool One by a well-informed interviewee. As Liverpool One staff were employed to work on Chester Northgate, Liverpool One ideas went with them. They took the masterplan approach, the outdoor mall form of streets/blocks and opening-up key views to the Cathedral and the countryside beyond the scheme. The same interviewee also noted that the Trinity Leeds scheme, completed in 2013, had also adopted the principle of opening-up key views. However, one academic thought that opening- up views was contrived: “a bit trite” (academic 3). This demonstrates, in terms of design migration, how the repetition of a design idea can only be repeated a number of times before it is perceived to go stale. Also, at Chester Northgate, a Member Working Group was set up (Table 8.2). Given that the Member Working 240

Group was regarded as fundamental to the process in Liverpool, “in Chester we did exactly the same” (development partnership 3). This demonstrates not only how staff can be the carriers of ideas, but the problem of the migration ideas when no critical analysis has taken place. As highlighted in chapter five, while the Member Working Group facilitated speed, compared to planning’s usual democratic processes, it was a weak mechanism.

In terms of design migration, one online survey participant and three interviewees – a scheme objector and, interestingly, three development partners – felt that Liverpool One was desperately short of a focal point: a main square or landmark space. Paradise Place was felt to be lacking as the scheme’s main focal point for events. The key development partner explained that there was no landmark space because the masterplan had been all predicated on historic street patterns and there had never been a large square in the area to reinvent. However, from a commercial perspective, the omission of a landmark space at the level of the shops was regretted because Grosvenor did not really want to drive people up to Chavasse Park, away from the shops, to the scheme’s only large space. Interestingly, two subsequent developments completed after Liverpool One, Trinity Leeds and London’s Westfield Stratford City, both feature large covered hubs – whilst also having open streetscenes. Likewise the parallel schemes of Bristol’s Cabot Circus and Belfast’s Victoria Square also feature large covered hubs. For interest, Liverpool One’s parallel schemes are detailed in Table 8.3. Furthermore, in 2011 Barton Square, the 2008 open-air annex to Manchester’s Trafford Centre, was granted planning permission to glaze over its outdoor courtyard to protect against the weather. Given that “the [Liverpool One] scheme was undoubtedly influential: it has been visited by, you know, anybody and everybody in the industry, basically” (development partnership 6), it could be argued that other retail developers would rather not reproduce such an open scheme. So, while one interviewee felt that, in terms of design migration, Westfield Stratford City (2011) was obviously a place which “blatantly didn’t look to Liverpool One” (consultant 2), in fact, they possibly had and opted for a hybrid scheme instead: an open streetscene, but a covered hub. In terms of tracing forward design ideas, other schemes will be seeking to learn from Liverpool One’s successes, but also its perceived mistakes.

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Table 8.3: Parallel Schemes Type of scheme Liverpool One contemporary with: An open street retail scheme, with glazed Princesshay, Exeter canopy sections Date of initial planning application: 1998 Consent granted: 2003 Date of Completion: 2007 Developer: Land Securities Retail-led mixed-use, two covered multi-level Victoria Square, Belfast streets linked to public space under a glass Date of initial planning application: 2001 dome, pedestrian links to surrounding areas Consent granted: 2003 Date of Completion: 2008 Developer: Multi Development Corporation Designed by: BDP and T+T Design Retail-led mixed-use with three covered Cabot Circus, Bristol two/three-level streets with glazed canopies Date of initial planning application: 2003 Date of Completion: 2008 Developer: Land Securities The parallel schemes were indentified from 13 responses to interviews and online surveys

Part three: financial geographies

8.10 The scheme’s financial geography As Liverpool One represents a node within circuits of global finance, the third section of this chapter seeks to uncover the scheme’s ‘financial geography’. As this section unfolds, it becomes clear that global finance was a key force behind the scheme. Despite this, six interviewees – four development partners, a local commentator and a regeneration professional – perceived the scheme to be meaningful to Liverpool because it was built by a local: the late Duke of Westminster, who lived in the city region – near Chester. The scheme’s financial geography is interesting because of its mix of global finance and the role of a local Duke. He was perceived to have a personal relationship with Liverpool, which extended to having a great fondness and philanthropic feelings towards the city, though he was not considered an actual philanthropist: “The Duke of Westminster ... was very clear that he wanted to do the scheme and that the scheme would be completed ... he was absolutely adamant that he was going to do this for the city” (development partnership 3). In fact, it was the Duke who made the public promise to deliver the scheme ahead of schedule, in time for the 2008 European Capital of Culture. This was news to his key staff who listened to him make this pledge on the radio. The promise created a

242 huge urgency around the scheme: “then it went very fast: far too fast ... it was a ridiculously fast project ... we had to move all the time: fast, fast, fast” (development partnership 5). The promise also created financial pressures. To finish early Grosvenor had to put more and more money into the scheme, especially to cover acceleration costs, which contributed to Grosvenor’s cost-overruns. It is worth examining the cost-overruns because Grosvenor made “massive, massive losses that will never be [recouped]: well, we have written them off” (development partnership 1).

Two key development partners were able to discuss financial issues in detail. While the projected development costs for Liverpool One were initially £650 million, rising to the region of £900 million, it is estimated that the final development costs were about £1.3 billion. Of the cost-overruns, a Grosvenor representative said, “I won’t tell you what the figure was, but it was tens of millions of pounds” (development partnership 5). Others estimate the cost-overruns to be £200m (development partnership 6) to £300-£400m (development partnership 3). As well as acceleration costs, Grosvenor also lost money through cost-capping for co-investors and through internally selling Liverpool One to its co-investors on a pre-agreed date. These processes will now be explained.

For all the impression of Grosvenor being local, and thus Liverpool One being local, Grosvenor actually only own an 18% stake of Liverpool One. It is one of six investors in the Grosvenor Liverpool Fund. The Grosvenor Liverpool Fund was set up in the early days of the development as the vehicle to fund Liverpool One. It was the entity which allowed co-investors – equity investors – to buy a stake in Liverpool One. Equity investors are institutions who invest money into the development of a scheme in exchange for a share its ownership when it is completed. In this way, on the day Liverpool One opened its doors for business in 2008, it was internally sold to its equity investors: that was the deal. On this day, the Grosvenor Liverpool Fund flipped from a development vehicle to an investment vehicle. In this way, Grosvenor is now one of six co-investors – six equity investors – in the Grosvenor Liverpool Fund. In 2009, the other five equity investors were Hermes, Liverpool Victoria, Maroon Capital, Redevco Properties UK and – on behalf of a private Middle Eastern client – Aberdeen Property Investors (Littlefield, 2009, p.246).

The two development partners explained that, originally, Grosvenor had a co- investor, Henderson Global Investors. However the focus on quality led

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Hendersons to pull-out of Liverpool One in 2002. Hendersons wanted to make money and the quality being brought forward was financially unsustainable for them (local partnership 1). Following the departure of Hendersons, Grosvenor followed a twin-track approach to funding the development. They pursued both new equity investors to invest in the Grosvenor Liverpool Fund, and bank loans. Grosvenor needed bank loans initially because it proved difficult to attract equity investors as the scheme was viewed as risky. In fact, Grosvenor started the project funded by banks alone – the four banks of Barclays, Eurohypo, HSBC and Royal Bank of Scotland UK (Littlefield, 2009, p.246). To entice potential equity investors, Grosvenor agreed to reduce their financial risk by cost-capping. As such, when equity investors bought a stake in the Grosvenor Liverpool Fund they knew the set amount of costs they were putting in. Beyond that set amount – apart from a contingency fund of £50 million – any cost-overruns, such as the acceleration costs to finish by 2008, were to be borne by Grosvenor alone.

Furthermore, Grosvenor lost even more money through internally selling Liverpool One to its equity investors on a pre-agreed date: “Now that [timing] would have been a really, really smart deal, if we had not had the huge banking crisis and everything collapsed ... [because] if you bought all your land at the peak of the market, procured all your construction at the peak of the market and then you are locked into a date and sell it at the bottom of the market: your fault! ... ‘Grosvenor-as-a-developer’ really has not benefited at all ... Liverpool One was a fundamental disaster financially ... [with] a massive costs overrun Liverpool One made a thumping loss” (development partnership 1). In these three ways – acceleration costs, cost-capping agreements and the deal to sell the scheme on a set date – financially the scheme did not go well for Grosvenor. To help illustrate the immense financial pressure of the scheme, spending on construction was ticking along at the rate of £20m a month, peaking at an estimated £25m (Unger, 2007): “The money was a big issue: it was terrible: every board meeting I went to: the money went up and up. But no, the company [Grosvenor] said we can/we will put the money in, and then we will take a longer haul [meaning Grosvenor will hope to recoup the money, over the years, as one of the six equity investment partners] ... so there we are: it was only that company which could have done it. And that is a fortunate thing. We, as Grosvenor, we put much more investment into it than any other development company would have done and could have done” (development partnership 5).

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Furthermore, it was highlighted that when facing the Grosvenor board, the scheme’s planning mechanisms, which had been put in place to facilitate speed and certainty for Grosvenor, were a huge help. The board would be reassured that appropriate procedures were in place and the board – in turn – would agree to increase the budget to cover acceleration costs. It is interesting to hear this positive perspective on the planning mechanisms. It contrasts to chapters five and six which tended to focus on the costs to democracy of planning mechanisms that kept statutory objections to the minimum and decision making to a small economic and political elite. Given that Grosvenor’s “investment was such that it dented a big hole in even the Duke’s coffers” (development partnership 6), this privileged position clearly does not come cheap.

A key point of detailing Grosvenor’s losses is to highlight that, while not philanthropists, for the city of Liverpool and for Liverpool City Council, it was indeed very fortunate that Grosvenor was the developer. Grosvenor would not compromise on quality or cut corners in the development phase. Instead they gambled that, in the long, long haul, through Grosvenor’s 18% stake as an equity investor, they might recoup their money. In this way, while not a philanthropist, it could be argued that the Duke was a friend of Liverpool. Without the role of the late Duke of Westminster, it appears that Liverpool One would not have been built to such a high standard. The scheme was something of a one-off. In this way, there is something uniquely Liverpool about Liverpool One.

8.10.1 How LCC accumulates and spends their Liverpool One income Given that Liverpool One was to make money for Liverpool City Council, this raises questions about how this money is accumulated and spent. One academic expressed their frustration that the public are not able to fully get to grips with how Liverpool City Council accumulates money from Liverpool One, and felt that these things were important to explain: “One of the effects of the Liverpool One development – this model of regeneration – is that it makes accountability more difficult. So, you know, who does benefit accrue? I don’t know. All the yield from the space, how much does the council get? I don’t know. Is this for a public good? I don’t know” (academic 3). The situation is not helped by this information being difficult to locate. No Liverpool City Council committee report could be found which detailed the financial arrangements between Liverpool City Council and Grosvenor, and while only two interviewees – two key development partners – were able to discuss Liverpool City

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Council’s financial arrangements in depth, only two more had a fair amount of knowledge – a councillor and a development partner – and three further development partners had some knowledge. Beyond these people, only one ‘outsider’ to the scheme – a now retired regeneration professional – understood the finances. Broadly speaking, the financial arrangements were not understood. However, primarily from interviews, it was established Liverpool City Council makes/saves money through Liverpool One in the following ways: 1. Via the granting of the head lease (via cash flow), 2. Via overage, 3. Through 160 extra business rates, 4. Through being relieved of the maintenance costs across the 42.5 acres, including the legal responsibility for personal injury claims. This section will now examine each of these in detail.

Liverpool City Council remains the landowner of the site: they have the freehold. Interestingly, the city council would not sell the land to Grosvenor because the bad press associated with the Militants previously selling off chunks of municipal real estate. Instead, they granted Grosvenor a head lease for 250 years, which in the commercial environment is a very long lease. After 250 years, opinion was divided about what would happen to the land. A city council representative believed that “the 250 years is a freehold effectively: we gave the freehold to Grosvenor” (development partnership 3), while a Grosvenor representative believed the opposite: “the land will eventually go back to the city [council]” (development partnership 5). In the meantime, as a consequence of granting the head lease, Liverpool City Council receives 5% of Liverpool One’s ‘cash flow’ (Unger, 2007). ‘Cash flow’ is Liverpool One’s total annual income once all expenses – insurance, maintenance, utilities and so on – have been paid. Capitalised, this 5% means every year the city council get several millions of pounds (development partnership 5). In this way, the city council makes an immediate, guaranteed and long term financial return from Liverpool One.

Liverpool City Council does not receive any ground rent. However, while not an immediate or guaranteed return, they also receive money from overage. Overage is a percentage share of the rent paid by the tenants that comes in every year, which goes to the city council. Through granting the head lease, Liverpool City Council and Grosvenor are co-landlords. The tenants’ sub leases are in the names of Grosvenor and the city council and the tenant. However, this overage is only payable to the city council when Liverpool One profits have gone over and above a

246 set, pre-agreed threshold – which they have: “Liverpool City Council just takes a slice of it [the rent that comes in every year]: a fairly small slice to be perfectly honest with you” (development partnership 1). Heurkens (2012, p.306) put the overage ‘slice’ at a 5% share of the rent. The Liverpool Echo (2004) reported that the combined income from the cash flow payment and from overage was around £5-£6m a year, which equated to more than 5% of Liverpool City Council’s income. While these figures stem from 2004 – the most current that could be found – it is clear from the way in which the financial arrangements are calculated that, if the scheme is doing well and profits increase, the amount received by Liverpool City Council will increase. In these ways, although the operation of the site is firmly in the hands of Grosvenor, the city council shares in the scheme and in the financial success of the scheme.

This raises questions about where the money accumulated from Liverpool One is spent. Of the money Liverpool City Council makes from Liverpool One, until 2020/25 the intention is to spend this money on keeping council taxes down (Liverpool Echo, 2004). Unger (2007) highlights that council taxes have been controversial in Liverpool because they were high – apparently the highest in the country – to finish paying off the debts run up by the Militants. In this way, the £5- £6m per year that Liverpool City Council receives from Liverpool One is distributed evenly across the city. This is a different approach to delivering the benefits of regeneration compared with the European Union programme which gave something extra to those most in need, for example improved education, training and employment services (Meegan, 2003, p.64). As such, it could be argued that rather than a blanket approach, Liverpool City Council’s estimated £5-£6m a year could be targeted at those most in need in the city. Alternatively, given the issues relating to the scheme’s edge, the money could be used as recompense and targeted at those most disadvantaged by Liverpool One.

Finally, on the subject matter of how Liverpool City Council makes money through Liverpool One, they also receive the additional business rates from the estimated 160 new Liverpool One businesses. Plus, as well as making money, Liverpool One saves money for the city council through controlling the former public streets and open spaces. In this way, Liverpool City Council is relieved of the maintenance and running costs for a large part of the city centre. These costs are the highest in the city centre due to the high footfall and the legal obligation to ensure external spaces are free from hazards which may lead to accidents, including trips and falls.

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Grosvenor is now legally responsible if somebody trips over, say, a paving stone and makes a personal injury claim.

8.11 Conclusion This chapter sought to gain insights into appropriate design in city centre regeneration. In this light, the study found two key challenges for Liverpool One. Firstly, how well it utilised both design ideas from close-by and from elsewhere. Secondly, how well it mixed neutral and adventurous architecture. Given there was a difference of opinion across all these issues, this presence of debate suggests that Liverpool One was good at balancing and its designs were about right. However, while no strong opinions were expressed about looking elsewhere for design ideas, there was a caveat that it was difficult to gauge if Liverpool One had obviously borrowed from elsewhere because there was homogeneity about new schemes across the UK and the Continent.

There were clear opinions on other issues, however. Generally speaking, it was agreed that the scheme was high quality. This positive outcome was a happy union between Liverpool City Council, Grosvenor and British urban renaissance ideals. Another positive was that, in terms of the British urban renaissance movement, Liverpool One was perceived to represent the Zeitgeist. However, the ultimate aim was not to become a top tier British city, but a top tier continental one. By taking on certain continental characteristics, Liverpool could increase its chances of being categorised in this way. There were, however, several drawbacks to looking elsewhere while designing a major development like Liverpool One. Firstly, looking elsewhere can lead to problems in Liverpool to be overlooked. Similarly, through seeking to emulate examples of continental urban infrastructure/architecture, like tram systems and urban staircases, it seems to give a lightness to design processes that should be more embroiled in problem solving. In this way, looking elsewhere appears to help dispense with the gravity of design. Finally, the tendency to reference the Continent muddies the waters as to where the credit goes for new initiatives: to British cities themselves for seeking to solve their own problems, or to the Continent for providing the idea.

Given the chapter had a particular interest on the extent to which mobilities thinking can help form a better understanding of contemporary British urbanism, there are three key points to make. Firstly, for urban designers there was an issue of not wanting to be seen to be copying from elsewhere. They were creative enough to think of their own ideas. However, more commercially-orientated

248 development partners spoke openly of almost cherry-picking from the most attractive schemes in other parts of the world. Secondly, a key point about outdoor mall-ing is that people are not supposed to be in any doubt they are in a retail environment. Scheme designs are actually about delivering places that people can understand because they have seen them before. In this light, design migration is more akin to moving design ideas around like jars on shelves, as opposed to trying to innovate. However this contrasts with mobilities thinking whereby it is emphasised that it is the actual being in transit, or mobilization, that changes the character and content of the design idea. Thirdly, in terms of urban mobilities, it is not just policy makers and architects who are moving, but the minds and imaginations of the general public are on the move too. In terms of architecture and urban design our musées imaginaire have expanded dramatically and this has brought about a cosmopolitanization of taste. In this way, mobilities literature would do well to think about how the public moves through their musées imaginaires – their imagined museum collection of place imagery – and how this may make the public acceptance of certain designs and design policies easier.

Finally, to bring both this chapter and the four key empirical chapters to an end, through the discussion of the different typologies Liverpool One was felt to represent, the scheme has flaws in terms of sustaining urban regeneration. While the study refers to Liverpool One as an outdoor mall it is, more accurately, a large, multi-occupied, managed environment which struggles to cope with non-profit making uses like crèches and multi-faith prayer rooms. This does not bode well for a 250 year life span of 42.5 acres of city centre space in terms of meeting social needs. It is an urban development model that does not view the city centre holistically, which was a criticism of the scheme from the outset.

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Chapter Nine Main findings

9.1 Introduction The core question underpinning the entire study is: can a design-led approach to redevelopment deliver city centre regeneration? It has an interest in the success of design-led approaches to development in regenerating city centres previously in decline. To examine this question, the research utilised a case study, Liverpool One, and set out its findings across the preceding four empirical chapters. To draw the study to a close, this concluding chapter now seeks to do five things. The first section revisits the study’s aims. The second, third and fourth sections present the study’s main findings, as a discussion of the theoretical implications of the study with respect to urban design, and then thematically – cutting across the empirical chapters and setting out the study’s key, more practical, findings. The fifth section reflects on the limitations of the study and the sixth section identifies areas for future research. To end, the last section recaps the study’s main story.

9.2 Revisiting the study’s primary aim and its objectives Guided by the study’s theoretical framework, the empirical chapters sought to capture and examine a wide range of perspectives and experiences of design-led regeneration, with the primary aim of better understanding what different facets of design can or can’t offer regeneration processes. To recap, the empirical chapters set out with the broad objectives of:

Identifying how key design moves and decisions are mediated at the local level in planning and development processes, examining the different sets of actors involved. This aim was largely addressed by the postpolitical chapters of five and six.

Critically examining what happens when ideas of best practice are increased in scale and built in the real world, as exemplified by Liverpool One. This aim was largely addressed by the semiotics chapter: chapter seven.

Evaluating how ideas of appropriate design are assembled in a place and how cities are implicated in each other’s regeneration efforts. This aim was largely addressed by the mobilities chapter: chapter eight.

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Drawing out key theoretical and practical ideas to develop new approaches to the role of design, in planning and development processes for the benefit of future city centre regeneration efforts. This aim will be addressed by this chapter.

9.3 Key theoretical implications of the study From the data gathered in the four empirical chapters, this section seeks to generalise to theory by drawing out the study’s main findings in terms of the key theoretical implications of the study with respect to urban design. In this way, the findings have relevance beyond the particular research site of Liverpool One.

9.3.1 Postpolitics In terms of extending recent theorising on postpolitics, from the existing literature it transpired that there was little research which focused down on the minutiae of the processes behind the production of a scheme like Liverpool One. Examined under a postpolitical lens, the interest was in setting-out an in-depth case study of how planning mechanisms can be adapted to help stabilize opportunities for private sector investment. In this light, when the scheme’s experimental design meta- narrative approach was analysed, interesting findings were exposed. Revealed was a reconfiguring of planning processes and, running parallel, a system of foreclosing and gatekeeping. Together they largely prevented contentious issues/debates from entering the planning/design of the scheme.

In terms of the reconfiguring of planning processes within this design meta- narrative, design was not just about the appearance and functionality of the end product, but was also inherent in the processes which stand behind the production of the scheme. On examination, however, many component parts of the design meta-narrative appeared to be postpolitical mechanisms for delivering a large scheme in the quickest, most frictionless way possible. As one interviewee commented, it went like clockwork. This is especially when the mechanisms are viewed collectively and aligned in time. Examples of arguably postpolitical mechanisms included the use of a Member Working Group/Design Review Meetings rather than a traditional planning committee and a tiered, hierarchical consultation package, which allowed some people more of a voice in the process than others.

In terms of a system of foreclosing and gatekeeping being in place, by ‘foreclosing’ it is meant the foreclosure of the urban/social issues that will be addressed by a scheme. Foreclosing was deep-rooted within Liverpool One in several ways. The

251 site had already been foreclosed by zoning/quartering by Liverpool Vision: as the ‘Retail Core’, it was highlighted that the space was to make money. Then, arguably, given the starting point for the scheme was a roofless, wall-less mall, its primary concerns would have been foreclosed to those relating to shopping. Post- completion, as a large multi-occupied, managed environment, issues relating to foreclosing continued as Liverpool One struggled to accommodate low/non-profit making facilities like a crèche or a multi-faith prayer room. In these ways, the ability to foreclose which urban/social issues it will address across its 42.5 city centre acres has been a defining characteristic of the scheme since its outset.

Foreclosure, however, would not have been possible without multiple gatekeepers across both the ‘masterplanned-outline’ and the ‘delegated-detailed’ planning stages. By ‘gatekeepers’ it is meant individuals who control access to something: in this case entrance into democratic processes where the public could have sought to expand the range of urban/social issues they wished to see the scheme address. For example, gatekeepers decided which select 200 people to include on the stakeholder list and through the high levels of officer delegation, which comments should go before the planning committee. Ultimately, in these ways, it appears that foreclosing and gatekeeping practices effectively evacuated planning’s formerly political spaces.

9.3.2 Semiotics As an established urban design perspective, the key theoretical implications of the study in terms of semiotics relate to how it informs thinking about creating new symbolic futures (as well as visual and spatial futures). The fact that a place has symbolic meanings beyond its physical layout is particularly relevant to retail developments like Liverpool One. Retail planning uses symbolism as a subtle and unspoken method of social control, by loading the surface design of its built environments with cues. Indeed, retail planning relies heavily on cues. In this light, if outdoor mall-ing is to be a driver for city centre regeneration, theorising about space and people’s reaction to space should be given more significance in the practice of urban design. This builds on the argument made by Aravot in the literature review that using space theories – she gave the example of phenomenology – has become discredited within urban design, for reasons such as an over-emphasis on morphology and symbolism, and paying too little attention to the political and economic realities enmeshed in the production of place. However symbolism is a key part of retail planning and thus, with the emergence of outdoor mall-ing, city centre regeneration.

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Moreover, understanding the use of symbolism is more acute in areas of severe deprivation, where retail schemes like Liverpool One are believed to potentially ‘balance’ a city centre by bringing in more affluent people. This is achieved through combining attractive shops with class-loaded cues. However a key concern is that an unawareness of space theory might contribute to an uncritical acceptance of scheme designs which seek to socially filter people through symbolism/cues. For example, the study revealed a sensed entrance criteria for Liverpool One. In terms of social inclusion, this issue is exacerbated by the sheer size of schemes like Liverpool One. Potentially, large tracts of city centres could stand behind a sensed entrance criteria. Furthermore, it needs emphasising that this is a ‘sensed’ criteria and without solid, up-to-date theoretical foundations on which to debate, it is more difficult to argue the significant socio-spatial impacts of something that is ‘only’ sensed. It was highlighted in the study that Liverpool One has no gates or bouncers. However, if there were actual gates or bouncers, there would be something solid – something tangible – around which to base a debate. As such, there is a need to bring the theoretical discussion about space and people’s reaction to space up to date.

9.3.3 Mobilities While it was believed that no-one has yet used the emerging literature on mobilities to form a better understanding of contemporary British urbanism in terms of urban design, a key point to make is that the study’s findings did not fully support mobilities thinking. While the literature review highlighted that, in terms of design migration, design ideas aren’t moved around like jars on shelves – design ideas don’t literally migrate from site to site – the study did not find this to be the case. Contra to mobilities thinking, being in transit hadn’t significantly changed the character and content of design ideas at Liverpool One. Instead, Grosvenor delivered a place that people would understand because they had seen it before. As a retail scheme, Liverpool One’s built environment needed to signpost a certain commercial vernacular if it was to successfully make a connection with the customer. In short, the scheme design was to be a legibility device. It needed to look like somewhere recognisable, as a place people go to shop.

However, looking like a place people have seen before doesn’t necessarily mean conservatism. In terms of urban mobilities, it is not just policy makers and architects who are moving, but the minds and imaginations of the general public too. For architecture and urban design, this means our musées imaginaire have expanded dramatically and this has brought about a cosmopolitanization of taste.

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In this way, mobilities literature would do well to think about how the public moves through their musées imaginaires – their stock of ‘elsewheres’ – and how this may make the public acceptance of certain designs and design policies easier. In terms extending recent theorising on mobilities by applying it to the subject of urban design, this is a key point to make.

9.4 Theoretical propositions At the start of the study, certain concepts, assumptions, expectations and beliefs were drawn-upon to inform the research design. A number of initial theoretical propositions were set out, relating to the study’s theoretical base of postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities. Put simply, these propositions stated what the study thought was ‘going on’ at that point in time. Now at the end of the study, this raises questions about whether the findings offer supporting or differing insights to these initial propositions, which are now discussed, taking postpolitics, semiotics and mobilities in turn.

9.4.1 Postpolitical propositions The study drew on postpolitical thinking to aid political and institutional analysis: the wider context around the production of space. True to the initial propositions, outside of the development partnership, participants tended to accept the ‘economic reality’ of the world capitalist economy and the need to accommodate this at the local level through a mainstream growth agenda. The vast majority of the participants made trade-offs between their personal issues with capitalism and the benefits they felt Liverpool One brought to the city. However four participants stand out as being consistently out of step with this consensus. They were a local academic, two scheme objectors and, not a statutory objector, but somebody who completed comment forms in the Lord Street shop. For the latter three, they struggled to accept how the city centre was being redeveloped in such a purely commercially-minded way, rather than more holistically. The academic, on the other hand, struggled with how the scheme focused on the urban fabric, rather than the people of Liverpool. Additionally, true to the initial theoretical propositions, within the development partnership there were many component parts of the Liverpool One’s planning and development processes which could be interpreted as postpolitical mechanisms. This was not surprising given Liverpool One was a partnership between Grosvenor – a private company – and a city council who wished to gain a reputation as being incredibly business friendly. What was surprising, however, was the sheer extent to which postpolitical mechanisms were at play – a number of which have already been highlighted in section 9.3.1. It was

254 a more extensive postpolitical study than initially anticipated. In fact, for a scheme admired as an example of almost text book ‘good’ urban design, Liverpool One is – perhaps – a text book example of a postpolitical city centre regeneration scheme.

9.4.2 Semiotics propositions Semiotics was intended to inform the parts of the study concerned with design excellence and best practice. In this light, it would seem that semiotics thinking would be uncontroversial: who could argue against a scheme which prioritised design excellence? Predictably, hardly any participants did. There was only one voice – the same academic already mentioned in section 9.4.1 – who outright rejected such a universally appealing theme, prioritising instead concerns over Liverpool One’s public-ness. However a key point to make is that, while the pursuit of design excellence/best practice is not itself problematic, it can have consequences which are problematic. At the outset of the study the levels of stress associated with Liverpool One’s ‘good’ design were largely unanticipated. Yet as the study unfolded there were numerous examples of such stress, including increased traffic/accidents around the edge of the largely pedestrianised scheme, adjacent businesses watching shoppers gravitate to the scheme’s better-quality streetscenes and personal feelings of exclusion for those with little money. Ironically, despite the scheme’s seemingly universally popular ‘good’ design, many of the stresses are actually side effects of the scheme’s pursuit of design excellence.

9.4.3 Mobilities propositions The study drew on mobilities thinking to examine the inward migration of new design outlooks. Some of the initial propositions were shown to hold in the development of Liverpool One. For example, that the public were increasingly accustomed to eclecticism in architecture, though – conversely – retail developers preferred more conservative architectural styles which didn’t intimidate potential customers. As such there were differing perspectives on what styles of architecture were the most appropriate for Liverpool One. In terms of the origins of Liverpool One’s design ideas, differing perspectives came from within the development partnership itself. While designers did not want to be associated with copying from elsewhere, the more commercially-orientated development partners spoke openly of almost cherry-picking from the most attractive schemes around the world. Significant however, as already highlighted in section 9.3.3, was that contra to mobilities thinking, being in transit hadn’t significantly changed the design ideas at

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Liverpool One. Instead Grosvenor delivered a retail scheme that people would understand because they had seen it before.

Yet at the start of the study, assumptions were made that places were not submissive to the types of scheme designs developed by global finance and, as such, firms like Grosvenor. Rather designs were territorialised: made local through the influence of local people. This proposition was shown not to hold in the development of Liverpool One. This is perhaps a little surprising in light of the timing of the initial planning application – 2001 – in the midst of advances within the statutory planning system for promoting design quality, particularly during the 1990s. This included the ability to object to a scheme on the grounds of design, enabling locals the opportunity to seek to ensure developments were not just attractive, but liveable and locally distinctive. However, only eight people used Liverpool One’s statutory planning processes in this way. Others utilised the scheme’s shadow consultations, which lay outside of formal planning processes. If there were other views on ways to territorialise Liverpool One’s designs, because of the reconfiguring of the scheme’s planning process in this way, these views were not formally heard. However, as learnt from chapter six, whenever the scheme went before the planning committee and the voices of the statutory objectors had the chance to be heard, they seemed to be irrelevant. This raises questions, in the light of mobilities thinking, of how Liverpool One’s scheme design was actually going to be territorialised, and suggests that, despite the scheme’s design meta- narrative, there was perhaps not the interest from the development partnership in addressing the multiple design agendas in the built environment.

9.5 The study’s key, more practical findings It is not intended – in presenting the study’s key, more practical findings – to repeat the conclusions to each of the four empirical chapters. Instead this section seeks to generalise to the wider population, by identifying synergies found across these chapters which may have wider implications beyond the research site. In this way, by identifying synergies, the evidence from the research strongly suggests the emergence of three key trends in urban design:

Firstly, design-led schemes can be socially regressive. The promise of high quality can be utilised to mask less democratic planning processes and thus make a scheme more acceptable,

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Secondly, a culture of ‘lightness’ can exist around design when it should be more embroiled in problem solving. This can dispense with the notion that there should be any gravity to design,

Thirdly, while perceived as doing no harm, post-completion, a focus on high quality design can be used as an aesthetic device to make infringements on personal freedoms acceptable where otherwise there may be protest.

These are the key findings at the core of what the study has to offer the built environment field, in terms of better understanding what different facets of design can or can’t offer regeneration processes. Overall the study’s findings emphasise that ‘good design’ is not necessarily a benevolent force and there needs to be a rethinking about design-led regeneration. In this light, the findings will now be explained more fully.

9.5.1 Design-led schemes can be socially regressive Design wise, Liverpool One has many genuinely successful moments, with the creation of a qualitatively much-improved urban environment, which is largely sensitive to the physical context of Liverpool and features a number of new urban niceties such as water features and a peace garden. Against this backdrop eight interviewees, including scheme objectors and commentators, were asked if the finished scheme had either fallen short or exceeded their expectations. While three avoided answering, five admitted that the scheme had exceeded their expectations and – one thought – the expectations of most people. However there remain issues relating to various socially regressive impacts of the scheme, which are, in summary: 1. By thinking about cities as isolated categories and quartering the built fabric there was a belief that social issues could be dealt with somewhere else and were not part of the 42.5 acres of city centre covered by the scheme. In this way, quartering created an ease with which to dismiss social/urban concerns. 2. Quartering also impacted on the city centre’s pre-existing trading environment, which had previously been characterised by a retail happenstance of upmarket shops alongside less upmarket shops. Post Liverpool One, the attractive shops tended to relocate and had agglomerated within the scheme, causing polarising conditions in the city centre. In addition, there was the displacement of those who could not retain their former trading position on the site and had been driven out by high rents.

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3. Smoke screened behind its high quality scheme were Grosvenor’s manoeuvres as a ‘phantom firm’, embedding itself within public policy to protect its investment and using this position to object to rival schemes elsewhere in the city. Given that Grosvenor represents the aristocracy, in ways like this – arguably – cities are slipping back into the control of privileged elites in a manner characteristic of pre-democratic times. 4. In developing the scheme, given that the public purse paid for city council staff resources, land assembly and for the necessary peripheral work which allow this scheme to flourish, it could be argued that this – ideologically – was an attempt to privatise public funds. Funds were used to aid Grosvenor, rather than directly better the welfare of the public – although it also could be argued that the public does benefit as Liverpool City Council financially benefits from the scheme. 5. By using various ways of suggesting segregation from the rest of the city – for example gateway features and thematic quarters – Liverpool One facilitates ‘stonewalling’: whereby everything outside the official narrative of the scheme is silenced or stonewalled. While for shoppers, the reality outside is intended to evaporate, this raises questions of how the scheme design sits with broader regeneration aims of social inclusion. 6. While those developing the scheme showed a great deal of sensitivity towards the existing built fabric of Liverpool, they perhaps lacked sensitivity towards some sectors of Liverpool’s people. There could have been more thought about how being in its spaces would feel to those with little money. There are socially awkward spaces, including the The Terrace and the idea that diners would sit on the upper deck and non-diners would sit on the steps, at their feet. 7. When asked the question, who is colonising the scheme’s outdoor spaces, in terms of using them for self-entertainment, the most common response was ‘nobody’. With this comes the suggestion that leisure has to be bought in Liverpool One. 8. By limiting participation through the right of the ordinary person to receive accurate information through print journalism, the political issues and debates around the project were not adequately communicated both in terms of the amount of press coverage and that any coverage was adequately pitched to make issues/debates understood.

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9.5.2 A culture of ‘lightness’ around design Within the design meta-narrative which framed the scheme, design was to be a key problem solving activity. Yet, rather than being embroiled in problem solving, those involved spoke fondly of the design process, which appeared to be rather rosy – fun even. While it can be argued that – generally – the systems of foreclosing and gatekeeping helped create this atmosphere of fun by limiting problems to address and protests to deal with, the findings also suggest that design processes felt ‘light’ for two further reasons: 1. By looking elsewhere and seeking to emulate examples of continental urban infrastructure and architecture, like Citybike schemes and urban staircases, the problems of Liverpool itself could potentially have been overlooked. (Though, at the same time, looking elsewhere was beneficial as it enabled lessons to be learnt from the mistakes of others: as evidenced in the fact there was nowhere of Liverpool One’s scale from which to learn about edge issues – the scheme’s edge being subsequently identified as its weakest aspect.) 2. Similarly, while Liverpool One was admired as a best practice case study – an example of almost text book ‘good’ urban design – a focus on best practice can enable urban design to embrace consensus and potentially side-step debate over properly political questions of how a specific city centre should be redeveloped to address its own specific issues. In this way, focusing on best practice can deny the legitimacy of more radical alternatives that could be brought forward for city centre spaces and, again, keep design ‘light’.

9.5.3 Infringements of personal freedoms In addition to the undemocratic processes already highlighted, Liverpool One also raised questions about public-ness in terms of the infringements of personal freedoms, post-completion, on the site (an issue foreseen by the Quakers right from the outset of the proposals): 1. In reality, the only way Liverpool One was able to take the strains and tensions of daily urban life was via strict controls on the types of activities and behaviours that could take place there. While this helped gain the scheme a reputation as an oasis, it also meant that Grosvenor excluded uses that it could not fully control: a multi-faith prayer room, begging and traffic, for example. This, in turn, pushed many activities to the edge of the scheme, with consequences such as increased traffic accident figures on Hanover Street. In terms of a multi-faith prayer room, the Quaker

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Meeting House, the only freehold within the scheme, eventually provided this facility. However, this raises questions about, if we’re reliant on the aristocracy to develop and the church to do good works, what is the role of Liverpool City Council exactly? In this way, Liverpool One demonstrates how society can start to go backwards. 2. As a largely traffic-free scheme, on completion, a civic failing of the Liverpool One was identified as its contribution to the perceived over- pedestrianisation of Liverpool city centre. Some people with mobility issues could no longer penetrate the enlarged pedestrianised core from its edge. Given the number of less democratic practices involved in the planning process, this raises questions about whether pedestrianisation would have been approached differently if public consultation had been undertaken in a more inclusive manner. 3. While arguably a personal choice to infringe your own freedoms, some people felt a sensed entrance criteria and did not enter the scheme, while others – given the scheme’s focus on aesthetics – experienced a certain amount of stress about personal presentation while in the scheme.

However a key point to make is that while Liverpool One raises issues, particularly in terms of undemocratic processes and infringements to personal freedoms, such issues are permissible because the end scheme is a good scheme. When faced with a scheme of such exceptional design quality people are prepared to make trade- offs. In this way, Liverpool One demonstrates how a development can be controversial, but popular.

9.6 Limitations of the study There are a number of key limitations to the study. As previously highlighted, using a theoretical framework as a lens to focus a study can both reveal meaning, but it can also conceal meaning by filtering out pieces of data. In this way, a theoretical framework actually delimits a study by possibly blinding the research to aspects of the phenomena that are not part of its chosen theories.

Obviously, as a small scale PhD study with a stated aim of capturing and examining a wide range of perspectives and experiences of design-led regeneration, there was an issue with sample size. Generally speaking however, through the involvement of 38 participants – 28 interviewees and 10 online survey respondents – it was felt that significant relationships were identified from the data. However, there was an issue, highlighted by one interviewee who was regrettably interviewee number 26,

260 which was felt to be so interesting it was unfortunate that only two others – interviewees 27 and 28 – could be asked about the same experiences. This related to the stress some people suffered when they felt like they were part of a design product while in the spaces of Liverpool One. It was highlighted that some people would subsequently compare themselves to others in the space and feel like they were in competition with those others, in terms of aesthetics/appearances. Given the study’s focus on design-led development, not being able to fully examine this issue left the study with a sense of unasked questions.

Looking forward, these three limitations could be overcome in future research by viewing the same phenomenon, the reproduction/regeneration of city centre space, under different theoretical lenses, by studying more case studies comparable to Liverpool One and by having a larger sample size. It is not felt, however, that these limitations have seriously impacted on the overall findings and conclusions of the study because a wealth of data was still gathered and analyzed within the space and time limits of the study.

9.7 Recommendations for future research From the previous section, the existence of unasked questions points to the need for further research, in this instance a targeted study investigating how our new aesthetic consciousness towards the built environment might extend to the aesthetics of people in those spaces and cause stress. There is potential for post- doctoral study to explore this interesting twist which is also of relevance to space theory and the call – in an earlier section – for a revival in theorising about space and people’s reactions to space.

In terms of postpolitics and planning practice, future research is also recommended into local government planners and changing attitudes towards achieving consensus in planning. This is especially when planners are involved in partnership working and their possible acceptance of private sector ideologies, perhaps without the planner even really noticing. For example, for one planner who was interviewed believed that receiving planning objections meant they had failed at their work. Somehow, an alternative construction of the problem had come about, whereby the issue in hand was not the content of the objection, but that an objection had been lodged.

There is also some potential for post-doctoral work around the issue of ‘planning’ being downplayed in favour of ‘design’ and emergent design meta-narrative

261 approaches to structuring planning applications, shaping not just the application itself, but the decision-making and the consultation processes. Experimentations of this nature require ongoing critical analysis.

9.8 Final words: the main story recapped The study took place within in the context of Liverpool city centre and the 42.5 acre Liverpool One scheme. Broadly speaking, it is a scheme of exceptional quality and has won several awards and has many admirers. The outstanding success of this project is attributed to its extreme commitment to design excellence by both the city council and the developer. Indeed when the study commenced it was not anticipated that, when scrutinised, the scheme’s approach to design – both as a process and an end product – would unfold to embody socially regressive practices, undemocratic processes and infringements of personal freedoms. These design characteristics were not immediately obvious. However the gathered evidence was to ultimately demonstrate how exceptional design can have transforming powers, but also disguising and concealing powers. As such, Liverpool One’s approach to design has only partially delivered in terms of aiding urban regeneration efforts. Physically, there is a qualitatively much-improved urban environment. However as a regeneration scheme, beyond the physical improvement of the urban fabric, Liverpool One was examined as to how it worked to achieve the comprehensive regeneration of the city, including socially. In this light, the project meets few social ideals, although it is socially improving for the many people who are now able to have more positive experiences of Liverpool city centre. However people can’t participate civically in the scheme if they have little money. This raises questions about how people are enabled or prevented from attaching themselves to their own personal urban renaissance in Liverpool One’s spaces. Overall, the study’s findings emphasise that design is not necessarily a benevolent force, and in this light, the study argues that there needs to be a rethinking about design-led regeneration. The challenge for those involved in schemes like Liverpool One is how to utilise design as a more socially progressive force.

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Žižek S., 2000. Holding the Place. In: J. Butler, E. Laclau and S. Žižek, eds. 2000. Contingency, Hegemony, Universality: contemporary dialogues on the left. Verso: London, pp.308-329.

Žižek S., 2005. Against human rights. New Left Review 34, pp.115-31.

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Appendix 1

December 2014

School of Environment, Education and Development The University of Manchester

Design-led Regeneration Research Project Participant Information Sheet: Professionals

The purpose of this guide is to help answer any questions you might have about being interviewed for the research project being undertaken by Victoria Lawson, a PhD Researcher at the University of Manchester.

What is the project? The project is examining the ‘design’ of ‘design-led’ regeneration. The idea that regeneration should be design-driven helped shape the approach to development throughout the New Labour period. The aim of the study is to explore the success of the ‘design-led’ approach, using Liverpool One as its case study scheme. Liverpool One has been chosen for analysis because, during the planning and construction phases, it was regarded as a regeneration scheme committed to delivering design excellence.

Who is the researcher? The researcher is Victoria Lawson, a Chartered Town Planner & qualified Urban Designer with 20 years of experience in roles of responsibility in regeneration and environmental projects. Victoria studied in the UK and The Netherlands and has practiced in the UK and New Zealand. She is currently a PhD Researcher and Teaching Assistant at University of Manchester. You can see Victoria’s profile at: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/victoria-lawson/46/b87/52

What is the research for? The research is the central part of Victoria’s doctoral research for a PhD in Town Planning at the University of Manchester. The information gathered will be used in

281 her doctoral dissertation – a long piece of work between 80,000 and 100,000 words – and in articles in academic journals and presentations at conferences.

Why have I been chosen for the study? You have been invited to be interviewed because you were a key player in the development of the Liverpool One scheme. By ‘key player’ it is meant people who know about the research’s most significant areas of interest. In this way, you have some special contribution to make to the study because, for example, you have some unique insight or because of the position you held.

What would I be asked to do if I took part? You would be invited to take part in an interview, which would take place in person or over the phone. The interview would last around 60 minutes. You would be interviewed solely about your role in the development of the Liverpool One scheme. With your permission the interview will be audio-recorded (but whatever is said during the interview is entirely confidential).

What happens to the information collected from me? The interview material will be used for research purposes only. It will be analysed and presented in the researcher’s doctoral dissertation – as well as in publications in academic journals and presentations at conferences. At all times, however, your information will be anonymous (a pseudonym will be used from the outset, so that the interview material is not directly attached to you). There will be no mention of individual participants.

Will I be paid? No, unfortunately. Participants are asked to take part on a voluntary basis.

The Consent Form explained The Consent Form, on the last page, gives your consent to participate in the research. It will be signed on the day of the interview. Before signing, however, the researcher will go over the form with you and answer any questions you may have.

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Contact for further information The researcher’s details are:

Victoria Lawson BA, BPL, MA (Urban Design), MRTPI PhD Researcher School of Environment and Development University of Manchester Oxford Road Manchester M13 9PL [email protected]

What if something goes wrong? If there are any issues regarding this research that you would prefer not to discuss with the researcher, please contact the Research Practice and Governance Coordinator by writing to The Research Office, Christie Building, The University of Manchester, Oxford Road, Manchester M13 9PL, or by emailing Research- [email protected] or by telephoning 0161 275 7583 or 0161 175 8093.

Your rights If you agree to be interviewed, as a research participant you have certain rights that you need to be aware of. These are as follows:

You have the right to withdraw from this research at any time. You have the right to terminate the interview at any time and for any reason. You have the right to decline answering any questions that you feel are too personal in nature. You have a right to report unethical research behaviour to the University of Manchester Research Practice and Governance Coordinator. You have a right to access any and all recordings, notes and other forms of data that you have provided. You have the right to be anonymous and maintain confidentiality of your participation in this research unless otherwise directed by legal proceedings. You have a right to have your data protected in accordance with the UK’s Data Protection Act 1998. You have the right to veto the inclusion of any information that you consider to be too personal or otherwise in nature.

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You have a right to disagree with the researcher’s interpretation of your accounts during the interview, and to present a different opinion. Every effort will be made to take your viewpoint into account. You have a right to request and receive a copy of any publication or presentation materials that includes information from this research. You have a right to opt out of any or all of the interview recording methods and to discuss alternative methods of data collection.

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Design-led Regeneration Research Project Victoria Lawson, PhD Researcher, University of Manchester Consent Form

If you are happy to participate in the study please complete and sign the consent form below. Please initial box I confirm that I have read the Participant Information Sheet about the above study and have had the opportunity to consider the information and ask any questions – which have been answered satisfactorily.

I understand that my participation in the study is voluntary and that I am free to withdraw at any time without giving a reason.

I agree to the interview being audio-recorded.

I agree that any data collected may be passed to other researchers in an anonymous form.

I agree that interview materials, once analysed, may be published in an anonymous form in academic books or journals.

I agree to take part in the above project.

______Signature Date Name of participant

______Signature Date Name of person taking consent

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Appendix 2

December 2014 School of Environment, Education and Development The University of Manchester

Design-led Regeneration Research Project Participant Information Sheet

If you have access to the internet, you can see Victoria’s profile at: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/victoria-lawson/46/b87/52

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What is the research for? The research is the central part of Victoria’s doctoral research for a PhD in Town Planning at the University of Manchester. The information gathered will be used in her doctoral dissertation – a long piece of work between 80,000 and 100,000 words – and in articles in academic journals and presentations at conferences.

Why have I been chosen for the study? You have been invited to be interviewed because you have a current or historical involvement with the Liverpool One development. You may have previously commented on, or objected to, the scheme (for instance, in a blog). Alternatively, you may currently use the Liverpool One scheme as a shopper/customer. Either way, your personal opinions about the scheme are of interest to the research – especially your opinions about the scheme’s design.

What would I be asked to do if I took part? You would be invited to take part in an interview, which would take place in person or over the phone. The interview would last around 45 minutes. You would be interviewed solely about your opinions of the case study scheme under analysis (Liverpool One), particularly your opinions of the scheme’s design. With your permission the interview will be audio-recorded (but whatever is said during the interview is entirely confidential).

Will I be paid? No, unfortunately. Participants are asked to take part on a voluntary basis.

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Contact for further information The researcher’s details are:

Victoria Lawson BA, BPL, MA (Urban Design), MRTPI PhD Researcher School of Environment and Development University of Manchester Oxford Road Manchester M13 9PL [email protected]

Your rights If you agree to be interviewed, as a research participant you have certain rights that you need to be aware of. These are as follows:

288

289

Design-led Regeneration Research Project Victoria Lawson, PhD Researcher, University of Manchester Consent Form

I understand that my participation in the study is voluntary and that I am free to withdraw at any time without giving a reason.

I agree to the interview being audio-recorded.

I agree that any data collected may be passed to other researchers in an anonymous form.

I agree that interview materials, once analysed, may be published in an anonymous form in academic books or journals.

I agree to take part in the above project.

______Signature Date Name of participant

______Signature Date Name of person taking consent

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Appendix 3

The University of Manchester School of Environment, Education and Development

Design-led Regeneration Research Project Semi-structured discussion guide: Professionals, specialists and lay experts

It is anticipated that, due to the various roles involved in the development

of Liverpool One, interviewees may not be in a position to fully answer

every question within this guide.

Introduction 0.1 What was your role in the development of Liverpool One?

Section One. Design on the move Questions in this section examine the ways in which design is always on the move, from establishing the initial scheme to changes made to Liverpool One since its 2008 completion.

1.1 Do you think the people developing Liverpool One were drawing on particular ideas that seemed to work in other cities? If so, how do you feel about seeing these ideas, now, in Liverpool?

1.2 Are you also able to ‘trace forward’ and identify schemes elsewhere, completed after 2008, which have borrowed aspects of Liverpool One’s scheme design?

1.3 How effective do you think the design team was in striking a balance between utilising precedents which have worked elsewhere and doing something different because it’s Liverpool?

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Changes since the scheme’s completion 1.4 Which aspects of Liverpool One’s design have been adapted since 2008? Why do you think these parts of the scheme have been redesigned and do you feel the adaptations have worked?

1.5 How have the public reacted to the more quirky types of initiative Liverpool One has introduced to the shopping experience, e.g. beaches, book-swap trees, pianos, deck chairs, ping-pong tables...? Do you think it’s important that these initiatives are regularly changed – if so, why?

1.6 How are tenants and the public responding to particular spaces within Liverpool One? Are certain parts being colonised, adapted, accepted, avoided... ?

Section Two. Design excellence This section seeks to generate a more complete picture of the pursuit of design excellence and achieving something worthwhile on the ground.

2.1 Do you think the site needed to be cleared and so comprehensively redeveloped or could certain aspects – Quiggins for instance – have been successfully integrated?

2.2 When people go into the post office, they behave post office: likewise Liverpool One believes their scheme design can affect people’s behaviour (encouraging them to spend more). In what ways do you personally think people respond to the scheme, in terms of adapting their behaviour?

2.3 Good design should be for the benefit of all: who do you think has benefitted the most – and the least – from the Liverpool One development?

The input of others into achieving the best designs 2.4 What were the particular pressures of dealing with such a large, complex scheme, within such tight deadlines – especially in terms of allowing sufficient time to address local comments and feedback?

2.5 Do you think it was a good or bad idea to streamline the planning permission process – and why? Would you recommend this approach to others doing similar large scale projects?

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2.6 Of the comments and feedback received while finalising the designs, who do you think had the greatest influence over potential changes to the scheme? How and why did their comments have more of an impact than others?

Section Three. Leading edge design Both the developer and the City Council have referred to the scheme design as leading edge. Questions in this section relate to the implications of utilising leading edge design in city centre regeneration.

3.1 How well do you think the scheme reconciles pressures relating to building in context on one hand and introducing contemporary, leading edge designs on the other – especially with regard to the proximity of the Maritime Mercantile City World Heritage Site?

3.2 Do you think the design team has created a particular ambience for Liverpool One? If so, what is it – and does it vary across different areas within the scheme?

3.3 Which aspects of Liverpool One’s scheme design do you find the most appealing, and the most off-putting, and why?

Conclusion 4.1 What do you think have been the knock-on effects of the Liverpool One development across the city? Have they been positive or negative?

4.2 What have you learnt from the development of Liverpool One  as a process?  as a completed scheme?

4.3 Is there anything else you want to tell the research?

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Appendix 4

The University of Manchester School of Environment, Education and Development

Design-led Regeneration Research Project Semi-structured discussion guide: Objectors/commentators and users/intended users of the scheme

1.1 Are there aspects of the scheme’s design which you are familiar with from other cities? How do you feel about seeing these ideas, now, in Liverpool?

1.2 Are there aspects of the scheme which you feel are distinct to Liverpool? If so, in what ways?

1.3 Which aspects of Liverpool One’s design have been adapted since 2008? Why do you think these parts of the scheme have been redesigned and do you feel the adaptations have worked?

1.4 What do you think Liverpool One is trying to achieve with the more quirky types of initiative they’ve introduced, e.g. beaches, book-swap trees, pianos, deck chairs, ping-pong tables... ? Do you think it’s important that these initiatives are regularly changed and if so, why?

1.5 How are you, other members of the public and tenants responding to particular spaces within Liverpool One? Are certain parts being colonised, adapted, accepted, avoided...?

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Section Two. Seeking to improve the proposed designs This section is most relevant to those who have objected or commented on the Liverpool One scheme (at a stakeholders meeting or in a blog, for instance). For others, don’t worry if you can’t – or don’t want to – answer any questions in this section.

2.1 If you wished to formally comment or object during the design stage of the scheme, what were the ways you could make yourself heard to the developer and the City Council? What were your comments/objections?

2.2 Are you aware of any modifications made to the design of the scheme in response to your comments, feedback or objections – or those of other people?

2.3 Has the finished scheme either fallen short or exceeded your expectations – and in what ways? Looking back, do you think your objections or concerns were overstated or understated?

Section Three. Your experiences of Liverpool One The developer has referred to Liverpool One as a ‘leading edge’ scheme which aimed to achieve ‘design excellence’. Questions in this section relate to how these approaches to design have affected your experiences of Liverpool One.

3.1 Which urban problems do you feel Liverpool One has addressed – and what would you still like to see addressed by Liverpool One?

3.2 Do you think the design team has created a particular ambience for Liverpool One? If so, what is it – and does it vary across different areas within the scheme?

3.3 How well do you think the scheme reconciles pressures relating to building in context on one hand and introducing contemporary, leading edge designs on the other – especially with regard to the proximity of the Maritime Mercantile City World Heritage Site?

3.4 Do you think the site needed to be cleared and so comprehensively redeveloped or could certain aspects – Quiggins for instance – have been successfully integrated?

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3.5 When people go into the post office, they behave post office: likewise Liverpool One believes their scheme design can affect people’s behaviour (encouraging them to spend more). In what ways do you personally think people respond to the scheme, in terms of adapting their behaviour?

3.6 Which aspects of Liverpool One’s scheme design do you find the most appealing, and the most off-putting, and why?

3.7 Good design should be for the benefit of all: who do you think has benefitted the most – and the least – from the Liverpool One development?

Conclusion 4.1 What do you think have been the knock-on effects of the Liverpool One development across the city? Have they been positive or negative?

4.2 Is there anything else you want to tell the research?

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Appendix 5

Survey Monkey Questions Victoria Lawson, 11th February 2015

Design led regeneration research project: Liverpool One 1. By clicking “I agree” below you are confirming that you’re at least 18 years old, that you’ve read and understood the Participant Information Sheet and that by completing this online survey, you agree to participate (anonymously) in this research.

Design on the Move 2. Have the Liverpool One design team drawn-on particular ideas which you are familiar with from other cities? If so, how effective do you think the design team was in striking a balance between utilising precedents which seem to work elsewhere and doing something different because it’s Liverpool?

3. Do you think the site needed to be cleared and so comprehensively redeveloped or could certain aspects – Quiggins for instance – have been successfully integrated?

4. Which aspects of Liverpool One’s design have been adapted since 2008? Why do you think these parts of the scheme have been redesigned and do you feel the adaptations have worked? (Prompts: the FAT kiosk, the Habitat facade...)

5. What do you think Liverpool One is trying to achieve with the more quirky types of initiative they’ve introduced, e.g. beaches, book-swap trees, pianos, deck chairs, ping-pong tables...? Do you think it’s important that these initiatives are regularly changed – if so, why?

Design Excellence 6. Which urban problems do you feel Liverpool One has addressed – and what would you still like to see addressed by Liverpool One? Do you feel there’s anything missing from the scheme?

7. When people go into the post office, they behave post office. Likewise Liverpool One believes their scheme design can affect people’s behaviour: that design can

297 choreograph people’s behaviour (encouraging them to spend more). In what ways do you personally think people respond to the scheme, in terms of adapting their behaviour?

8. Do you think the design team has created a particular ambience for Liverpool One? If so, what is it – and does it vary across different areas within the scheme?

9. Which aspects of Liverpool One’s scheme design do you find the most appealing, and the most off-putting, and why?

10. Good design should be for the benefit of all: who do you think has benefitted the most – and the least – from the Liverpool One development?

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Appendix 6

Time Line Informed by Littlefield (2009, p.245), interviews and various documentation.

1995-1997 Ambitions for the City Centre (1997) (Liverpool City Council): as the city council was going to become the planning authority again for the former MDC area, a strategy for moving the city centre forward was required. This strategic document came as a result of conferences and seminars with various city centre stakeholders: retailers, businesses and developers.

Ambitions for the City Centre identifies the need for a study of the city centre retail function.

1996 A Draft UDP is approved which makes little mention of the Liverpool One site, meaning the scheme, initially, lacked the certainty of a policy backdrop to progress.

March 1998 The MDC is wound-up. The city council is the planning authority for the city centre again.

May 1998 The Liberal Democrats win control of Liverpool City Council and start to enthusiastically pursue a modernising agenda for the city council, focusing on urban entrepreneurialism.

June 1998 Following Ambitions for the City Centre, Liverpool City Council commission Healey and Baker to carry-out a study investigating the potential of Liverpool as a retail destination.

February/March 1999 Healey and Baker issue their City Centre Retail Strategy Report, revealing that Liverpool was short of around 100,000m2 of retail space – plus a quality shopping experience was required, rather than the more ordinary present offer.

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April 1999 Liverpool City Council passes a resolution for the comprehensive redevelopment of the Paradise Street Development Area (PDSA). The PDSA is later renamed Liverpool One.

To guide new retail development and provide clearness about the local authority’s intentions for the area, the city council prepared additional planning guidance: the Paradise Street Development Area Planning Framework.

June 1999 The city council publishes an advertisement in newspapers asking developers to state their interest in the area. Forty-seven responses are received.

The City Centre Retail Strategy Report and the Paradise Street Development Area Planning Framework are to be the basis for developer selection.

June 1999 Liverpool Vision is created. They produce an overall city centre masterplan, the Strategic Regeneration Framework (2001).

August 1999 Grosvenor assembles its master planning team.

October 1999 Potential development partners are short listed to seven developers. They are issued an outline development brief and then give their responses, including formal presentations to the city council.

March 2000 Liverpool City Council selects Grosvenor as the developer.

February/March 2000 – September/October 2000 Detailed work starts on the masterplan and is completed within nine months.

April - September 2000 Masterplanning in consultation with stakeholders.

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September 2000 General outline of the masterplan is in place.

17 January 2001 The initial planning application is submitted. It is a hybrid application for part outline/part full planning permission.

May 2001 Grosvenor holds a public exhibition of the proposals: Wednesday to Saturday, 9th- 12th May, at the Abney Buildings in Hanover Street to provide information about the PDSA plans and for the public to provide feedback.

May 2002 The inspector chairing the UDP public inquiry publishes a report accepting the city council’s case for modifying the retail policies of the UDP to include the Liverpool One site.

July 2002 The Inspector chairing the public inquiry over the Walton Group application for Chavasse Park finds in favour of the of the city council/Grosvenor partnership and dismisses Walton’s application.

September 2002 The initial planning application is granted (26 September 2002). Detailed planning permission for individual buildings follows, via delegated powers, apart from One Park West.

November 2002 The UDP is adopted by Liverpool City Council following retail policy modifications to support the Liverpool One scheme – with Healey and Baker’s City Centre Retail Strategy Report and the Paradise Street Development Area Planning Framework underlying the new retail policies.

December 2002 The city council and Grosvenor sign their Development and Section 106 Agreement.

January 2003 Liverpool ‘Maritime Mercantile City’ nominated as a World Heritage Site.

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March 2003 Compulsory Purchase Orders issued for land assembly across the site by the city council.

June 2003 The UK government announces Liverpool as the European Capital of Culture 2008. The Duke of Westminster publically promises to finish the scheme in time for the city’s big year.

November 2003 - January 2004 CPO Inquiry into Compulsory Purchase Orders.

February 2004 Grosvenor submits a revised planning application, with an updated masterplan, to address specific issues in the south-west corner of the scheme.

May 2004 The Inspector finds in favour of the of the city council/Grosvenor partnership: the Compulsory Purchase Orders are confirmed, without modification.

June 2004 The revised masterplan application is approved (8 June 2004).

July 2004 Liverpool ‘Maritime Mercantile City’ World Heritage Site designated by UNESCO.

17 November 2004 The Paradise Project Public Information Centre opens on Lord Street.

22 November 2004 The first hole is dug into the ground: principal building work begins on site.

June 2005 The tram project, whereby trams were to run down Paradise Street, is cancelled.

November 2005 The PDSA is rebranded Liverpool One.

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November 2005 The bus station and Liver Street multi-storey car park opens.

October 2006 One Park West detailed planning application goes before the planning committee for consideration (24 October 2006).

February - May 2007 The new premises of the relocated Herbert the Hairdresser, BBC Radio Merseyside and the Quakers are opened.

2008 Liverpool’s year as European Capital of Culture.

May 2008 Opening of Phase One: South John Street, Paradise Street and the anchor stores.

October 2008 The scheme achieves its final discharge of conditions from the matrix of reserved matters.

November 2008 Opening of Phase Two: the entire site, including Chavasse Park, is now open to the public.

Spring 2009 Completion of the Hilton Hotel and the restoration of properties along School Lane and Hanover Street.

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