Celeb-regeneration? Get me out of here

I spoke too soon. Regeneration isn’t dead. It’s been given the air-kiss of life by celebrities.

In the past few months, we’ve had Mary Portas’ review of High Streets and the launch of the Transform Your Patch campaign with Robbie Savage and Denise Van Outen.

David Cameron appointed Carol Vorderman as his ‘maths tsar’ to improve educational standards. Even Prince Charles felt compelled to draft in Kirsty Allsop to announce his plans for the future of Waterloo market.

Next month, Philip Schofield will launch his BIS-sponsored review of construction skills and training provision in the midlands.

Okay, I made the last one up. But all the others have been in the news and we’ll see more examples of celeb-regeneration as the old models and funding streams fade away.

But is celeb-regeneration any better than what went before?

There’s nothing wrong with celebrity involvement in a cause, especially when they know and care about the issue. Jamie Oliver’s school dinner campaign brought an otherwise neglected problem to national attention. More recently, we’ve had Channel 4’s campaigning series on the empty homes scandal.

We shouldn’t dismiss celebrity involvement if it can help drum up interest and investment, especially at such a dire time for many neighbourhoods. The government has no meaningful strategy for tackling area deprivation, and continuing economic uncertainty means there is little activity outside a few marquee locations.

In his evidence to the regeneration select committee, Grant Shapps declined to challenge the suggestion that 90% of regeneration projects had stalled. With little government attention or private sector interest, maybe a bit of star power is what we need.

My concern is that celeb-regeneration doesn’t address the reasons why regeneration failed in the first place; in fact, it brings out its worst elements.

The old model of regeneration failed because it relied on cosmetic physical changes without addressing the underlying causes of multiple deprivation. It focused on the failings of areas without appreciating their strengths and assets. It gave prominence to outside experts imposing a grand vision, to the exclusion of local people and their aspirations.

The risk is that celebrities become the new ‘experts’; imposing a glossy plan and a set of options that take little account of local needs or desires.

We’ve all become familiar with the format of celebrity-expert documentaries. The famous chef / retailer / hotelier turns up at some failing venture to berate the owners for their stupid choices and gauche tastes. The menu is deemed too long, the service too slow, the interiors too fussy.

After initial conflict, the owners accept the one true path and go about making everything simpler, snappier and sleeker (always, always sleeker). The show ends with the teary-eyed locals expressing their gratitude, and the star is driven out of town in search of new places to ‘rescue’.

That formula works for a 60-minute TV programme, though we’re never shown if the changes made a sustainable difference. It doesn’t apply to neighbourhoods with their own histories, cultures and networks.

Any attempt to tackle deprivation and create better places should be focused on harnessing and strengthening the skills and capacity of local people. They’re the real stars of the show, and they’ll still be there when the cameras are off.

If local people aren’t even in the picture, celeb-regeneration will go the way of regeneration. And the rest of us should carry on looking for alternatives.