When I was a child growing up in rural Surrey, I could never imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to preserve the wondrous landscapes of Britain, only to replace them with concrete and tarmac for roads, houses, and airports. As I’ve gotten older, this disbelief has only grown stronger.
Take Ashtead, for example — a small town not far from where I live. The local council wants to build 270 new homes on green belt land, despite furious local opposition. Even the council themselves are divided on the issue, pushing it through due to fear of top-down reprisal. In nearby Langley Vale Village, there’s talk of potentially 110 homes being developed on equally green agricultural land that has been part of the local farming area for generations.
These are just two examples of dozens from my area alone. These plans are unpopular and have sparked fierce backlash and debate in the community. People wonder: Why do we have so little say in decisions that transform our neighbourhoods? Why do we often feel powerless against developers and top-down mandates?
Now, as I did then, I believe that Britain is still (at least for now) a beautiful country. However, my view of our island has matured to balance what I feel we have lost alongside what we’ve gained.
At 29 years old, many assume my generation is full of pro-modernist, latte-sipping, avocado toast-eating, Netflix-bingeing apathetics who don’t value the past and would bulldoze anything if it meant lowering house prices. This stereotype is not just wrong — it’s dangerous. Many of us care about more than just house prices; we care about landscape, beauty, nature and history. We want to preserve what was, and we think seriously about what is to come.
Many young people hear the mood of the nation and agree that things are broken. But I don’t believe that a centralised, managerial approach with top-down policies is the way to fix this or make the country happier.
A big reason why Brits feel broken is that they have no control over their futures. Stagnant wages, rising living costs, and soaring house prices force many to delay milestones like having children, marriage, or retirement. But I believe the problem runs deeper. This apathy — and misery — comes from a lack of local agency, community, and belonging. Money is necessary, but the soul of a community comes from local decision-making, not cash.
Nowhere is this absence of local control clearer than in the planning system. Central London Starmerites (and many others before them) claim that communities, especially in the Home Counties, are just NIMBYs blocking progress to boost the economy. But it’s far more complicated than this.
Today’s planning process is little more than a tick-box exercise. Communities are asked for input, then routinely ignored. When a local council rejects a development, it’s often overturned on appeal by higher authorities. Councillors face political backlash but have little real power to protect their communities. What looks like democracy is, in practice, centralisation.
This suppression of local democracy breeds apathy and resentment. People feel decisions are imposed on them, not made for them.
So here’s an alternative — one I doubt either major national party would support, but let’s dream.
In Switzerland, local communities decide their fate through direct democracy, sometimes gathering in town squares to vote on local issues. Local infrastructure, zoning, education, and some taxation are set at the local level. The central government only plays a guiding role in essential services and national taxes.
You might ask: won’t richer areas just set tax rates low to outcompete poorer ones, increasing inequality? Two mechanisms prevent this. First, Swiss local tax rates operate within regulated bands, maintaining rough parity. Second, a redistributive model transfers wealth from richer to poorer areas, ensuring local empowerment without worsening inequality.
I would love to see this model brought to Britain. It would shake up the old, sclerotic national parties and restore real power to local people. Local councillors represent diverse parties and interests but are currently toothless. A Swiss-style local democracy would change that.
“But what if they don’t build enough houses? What if businesses move to areas with better tax rates?” Then communities will respond accordingly. Challenges would remain, but at least people would be deciding their own trade-offs and paths forward.
Unfortunately, the UK is moving away from local democracy. Surrey provides a stark example. Our 11 boroughs are slated to merge into 2 or 3 “super authorities,” with a directly elected mayor gaining sweeping powers over the county. How is this real devolution? It centralises power into a system locals had no say in creating — allowing the government to push through top-down housing targets, often against local wishes.
In a Swiss or similar system, we’d live in a country truly made for the people, by the people — with agency, dignity, and hope for the future. I believe that Brits are capable of running their own communities, and it is patronising to suggest otherwise.
I wait with bated breath to see the fallout that is yet to come from this government’s drive towards centralisation, continuing a tradition in this country that has hollowed out local communities for decades.
I can only hope we the people see the light before it’s too late.
Matthew P. Dunn
