Every era thinks it's the worst

Decision-Making

The first detailed survey of the metropolis, ward by ward and street by street, came from the antiquarian John Stow in 1598. He ventured into what were now the City’s suburbs, north, south, east and west. He found new buildings obliterating open spaces, and alleys ‘pestered with small tenements and homely cottages . . . by men that more regard their own private gain than the common good of the city’. Times to Stow were never what they used to be. His London was ‘the most scoffing, respectless and unthankful age that ever was’. Its growth had to stop if it was to remain a habitable metropolis, a litany of woe that would echo throughout London’s subsequent history.

Stow saw migrants everywhere. ‘The gentlemen of all shires do fly and flock to this city, the younger sort of them to see and show vanity, the elder . . . to find a quick and ready market.’ Even the traffic evokes a moan. ‘The world runs on wheels, with many whose parents were glad to go on foot.’ Stow was London’s first urban economist.

John Stow saw London filling with new buildings, cramped tenements, migrants, money-seekers and traffic. He concluded that he lived in “the most scoffing, respectless and unthankful age that ever was”. The year was 1598. Four centuries have passed and the complaint could be read aloud in a local Facebook group without changing the punctuation.

Every generation believes its irritation is evidence of historic collapse. Newcomers are vulgar. Buildings are greedy. Young people show off. Rich people chase profit. The streets are too busy because people use the latest form of transport instead of moving about in the morally superior manner remembered from childhood. The details change; the emotional pleasure remains. Decline makes the speaker innocent. Somebody else arrived and spoiled the place.

This does not mean decline is imaginary. Name it properly. The rent doubled. The bus route disappeared. The market shut. Sewage entered the river on twelve recorded days. Those claims have dates, locations and people responsible for decisions. “London has lost its soul” has none of those inconveniences. It allows a person to condemn flats, bicycles, restaurants, tourists, offices and teenagers with one grand sigh.

I once heard a man complain that a coffee chain had destroyed the character of his high street. He was sitting in a different coffee chain, opened seven years earlier, which had apparently completed the journey from corporate invasion to beloved institution. His friend looked through the window at the new place and said, “The trouble is, people don’t want anything local any more. Anyway, shall we get another—”