THANK YOU for inviting me to deliver this Fabian lecture on building communities, and to launch the Housing & Community Policy Network, an initiative I warmly applaud.

The current debate about addressing the housing shortage, about major projects such as the Thames Gateway, about eco-towns, about our town and city centres, and about the changing face of our rural, urban and sub-urban areas, is a debate which reflects a much deeper and more fundamental set of questions about how we see our society, the individual's role in relation to the state and the market, and the functions and limitations of Government.

It is right that this lecture comes as part of the Fabians' 'Progressive Manifesto' series. There is no more stark difference between the major parties than their attitude towards the housing shortage and the need to build strong communities.

In this lecture I want to set out three principles for building strong, successful, sustainable communities, but before I do that, let me set out my core argument: if ever there was a progressive case for the state to intervene, to correct the failings of the free market, it is in the field of building strong communities. You cannot leave development, regeneration and planning to free markets, which by their nature create overcrowding, chaos, jerry-building, and property speculation.

Free markets do not deliver a co-ordination between different types of transport, nor environmental protection, nor playgrounds for toddlers, nor public squares and open spaces. These things require planning, design, communities working in concert.

Look at the urbanisation of the 18th and 19th centuries to see what an unfettered approach to building delivers: poorly built slums, which were breeding grounds for disease, crime and degradation, existing alongside ghettos of the wealthy, living separate lives. It was only because of social movements to create public parks, clean water, and improved drainage, and because of enlightened philanthropists such as George Peabody and housing reformers such as Octavia Hill, that the Victorian cities were civilised for the majority of people.

But – I don't believe you can purely plan communities, based on a central blue-print or prescriptive design. That's a recipe for sterility and same-ness. You can see the consequences of central planning in the soullessness and social problems of the cities of the Soviet Union, China, or in the post-war estates built on the edges of European cities, described and analysed so expertly by Anne Power in her 'Estates on the Edge'. This top-down approach, characterised in the UK, I'm afraid to say, by some of the Fabian thinkers, seldom, if ever, results in the utopias their originators sought.

Perhaps it is unfair to blame the Fabians for soulless post-war housing estates, because I know that for every Fabian statist centraliser, there has been a Fabian localist decentraliser! We could do worse than to dust down the prolific works of GDH Cole, a former chair and president of the Fabian Society, who did more than anyone to fashion a non-statist decentralised socialism, with power devolved to the lowest level. His ideas for Guild Socialism, for greater workers' control over industry, and for local units of political administration rather than the over-arching state, should inform our own thinking today.

And of course the Fabians kindly agreed to publish my own pamphlet 'Communities in Control' which paved the way for widespread community asset transfer.

My argument is what works is a centrally-devised framework, driven forward by a determined Government, but with space within the framework for creativity, innovation, quirkiness, and experimentation.

Or, in other words, if I may be permitted to quote a lesser known part of Clause IV of the Labour Party constitution: 'the enterprise of the market and the rigour of competition joined with the forces of partnership and co-operation.'

For a useful precedent, I would point to the Fifty New Churches Act of 1711, which set out the goal of 50 churches across London, but then allowed the creative genius of Hawkesmoor and others to deliver them to their own designs. The results were some of the most beautiful buildings in the world.

More recently, the garden suburbs and the New Towns have proved that the central-framework-plus-innovation can deliver places where people want to live, work and bring up families. I was pleased to be able to speak recently at the celebration of 40 years of Milton Keynes, a great success story.

There is still much to be lauded and learnt from the 'garden suburb movement', which insisted on developments which met strict criteria:

• they should cater for all classes of people, and all income groups
• there should be a low housing density
• roads should be wide, and tree-lined
• houses should be separated by hedges, not walls
• woods and public gardens should be free to all
• it should be quiet (with no church bells)

I personally have more time for this ideal for urban living, than I do for the utopias built for the workers by industrialists such as Saltaire, Bourneville, or Port Sunlight, which I have always felt owed more to paternalism and the aggrandisement of the benefactor, than real concern for the residents. And you couldn't get a drink!

If I were feeling cheeky, I might add Poundbury to the list…

As long ago as 1909, the socialist-turned-Liberal minister John Burns defined the aim of town planning as

'the home healthy, the house beautiful, the town pleasant, the city dignified and the suburb salubrious.'

As we look to the present day, and consider this government's ambitious plans for 3 million new homes by 2020, including up to ten eco-towns with 100,000 environmentally-friendly homes, then we must learn these lessons of history to ensure our success.

Earlier I referred to my three guiding principles for building successful, strong, sustainable communities.

Let me explain what they are:

Firstly, and most importantly, people must come first.

People must be at the heart of planning, design, regeneration and building. And people must be central to the running and ownership of assets within communities.

The great lesson from a range of projects and schemes, from the expert patients' programme, the New Deal for Communities programme, Planning for Real exercises, crime and disorder reduction partnerships, participatory budgeting, and tenants' and residents' associations, is that the active participation of a wide range of people from the community adds immeasurable value to any public scheme.

There is no public project which cannot be enhanced and improved by the active involvement of the public. This has come as a surprise to some of the so-called 'experts', who see consultation as the expiry of a period of time.

But the fact is that you can't have sustainable, lasting progressive change without high levels of support from the local community.

This is why I am such an advocate of the transfer of assets for local people to own and run, from land, disused pubs and shops, leisure centres, to housing estates and post offices. The transfer of assets creates the conditions for all kinds of positive results: it can unleash creativity and innovation; it builds a cadre of community champions and equips activists with the basic skills of democracy; it gives communities a sense of pride, cutting down on vandalism; and it can generate streams of income which are sustainable and not doled out at the whims of local authorities, or dare I say, ministers.

As the scope and scale of asset transfer is stepped up, as I believe it should be, it starts to tip the balance of power between the central or local state in favour of local communities, embedding assets in localities in ways that a future centralising government would find hard to remove.

Secondly, communities must be mixed communities.

There has been much debate about the gap between rich and poor in our society. My primary concern has never been that a few people become millionaires; it is that many people remain in poverty. It is not the size of the gap, but the absolute level of poverty which we need to address as a priority, hence the need for the New Deal to tackle unemployment, working family tax credits, increases in pensions for the poorest, and of course the national minimum wage.

But let me introduce a caveat. If affluence is used to create a separateness, a kind of social apartheid between rich and poor, with gated communities with private security, private schools and healthcare and a small but powerful section of society which never mixes with the rest of us, then that should give us real cause for concern.

This is not a new phenomenon. In 1844, Engels described mid-Victorian Manchester thus:

'a person may live in it for years, and go in and out daily without coming into contact with a working-people's quarter or even with workers, that is, so long as he confides himself to his business or to pleasure walks'.

As we build our three million new homes, and create our new communities, I want to see mixtures of tenure, size of property, and household size. We must not create tomorrow's sink estates, nor must we create walled enclaves for the rich.

As housing minister after 1945, Aneurin Bevan famously argued for mixed communities:

'We should try to introduce into our modern villages and towns what was always the lovely feature of English and Welsh villages, where the doctor, the grocer, the butcher and the labourer all lived in the same street. I believe it is essential for the life of a citizen ….. to see the living tapestry of a mixed community.'

In our modern context, with a far more socially and geographically mobile and diverse society than the one Bevan was analysing, there is an even greater need for communities which reflect different faiths, races and social classes. When we consider the impact of immigration on some of our towns, cities, and latterly rural areas, we must ensure that community cohesion is maintained, and no one faith or ethnic group can totally dominate a locality to the exclusion of all others.

There is nothing wrong with enclaves of particular groups – every city benefits from its China Towns, Little Italies, or as in London, Bangla Town, Kangaroo Valley, or Little Korea.

But no neighbourhood should be dominated by one group in ways which make members of other groups feel alienated, insecure or unsafe.

Thirdly, quality of design, architecture and materials must be paramount.

I recently gave a talk at CABE – the Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment – where I made the case for beauty rather than brutality in our public buildings and spaces.

It is clear that the buildings and spaces that surround us have a direct impact on our mental and physical health and well-being, and on our sociability. It is well documented that brutal, ugly buildings and estates contribute to crime, anti-social behaviour and social exclusion. Too many parts of our cities and towns are scarred by the mistakes of well-meaning planners and architects, who had too little regard for the people who would be living in their developments. The drive to build 'units', as they described them, obscured the need for liveability, so that places such as Skelmersdale in Lancashire, Stonebridge in north London, Easterhouse outside of Glasgow, or Blackbirdlees on the outskirts of Oxford, generations of families have struggled with higher-than-average levels of crime, vandalism, unemployment, unresponsive public services and poor quality housing.

I am absolutely determined that we do not make the same mistakes again.

I know that as we drive forward our agenda to build 3 million homes, myself, Caroline Flint, and Gordon Brown are united in our view that quality of design must not be sacrificed in pursuit of targets. As CABE make clear, innovative design and planning can contribute to a variety of progressive aims, from tackling obesity, to helping families with young children, to making life easier for the elderly and people with disabilities, to beating crime, to tackling climate change.

Beautiful, dramatic, iconic and inspiring architecture and design can lift the spirits, generate community spirit and pride, and drive further regeneration.

I cite the Lowry Centre in Salford Quays as an example, or the Imperial War Museum North across the border in Manchester, or Peckham Library, or the Sage in Gateshead.

And it's not just the icons. It's about the cycle lanes, the childrens' playgrounds, the pavement cafes, the public works of art, the allotments and the waterside walkways. It's about using materials which last longer than a couple of years, and designs which will still delight a century from today. It's about environmental sustainability, recycling, renewable energy and more green spaces and trees. In other words, we can't just build the Beetham Towers, but leave the housing estates untouched.

Quality of design must be democratic.

So – if we stick to these three principles – putting people first, creating mixed communities, and insisting on quality design – then we can build the kinds of communities which people will value in the decades ahead, where generations of children can grow up in safety and security, and which contribute to a more prosperous, more cohesive and fairer Britain.

Thank you for listening, and good luck.

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