“Good People Live Here”
Scrawled along the wall on Cooyong Street, where Braddon meets Civic, four words appeal to Canberrans to remember the humanity and dignity of those living in the soon-to-be-demolished ABC public housing apartments. A swath of Canberra’s ageing public housing is set to be demolished and redeveloped in some of the most in-demand sections of its inner north. What we build and what we demolish say something about who we are, and how we see ourselves and our neighbours.
As the Lonsdale Street end of Braddon grows in its reputation for Melbournesque hipster-chic, property developers have made the most of this renewal of what was formerly a light industrial precinct, by erecting trendy mixed-use buildings that vaguely evoke an industrial past.
Soon to be linked to Braddon’s inner suburb chic by light rail are the shiny new family-friendly (but still pricey) suburbs in the Gungahlin area. This project is part of an effort to redevelop/‘revitalise’ as much of the Northbourne Avenue public housing corridor as possible. The inner north (Braddon in particular) are in demand. A different kind of story is set to be told to those travelling down Northbourne Avenue, or circling the hexagonal outline of Canberra’s business district than that of the ageing Northbourne and ABC apartments we have today.
The Government understands that Northbourne Avenue serves as an introduction to our city for those entering the heart of Canberra via the Hume Highway. They describe the redevelopment of the Northbourne corridor as an opportunity to
“create an environment that promotes a vibrant mix of residents, businesses and retail space and an invigorated gateway to Canberra.”


When considering the kind of statement our Northbourne gateway makes, there is another question to consider: Are we just moving economic inequality out of view to give the illusion of a completely affluent city?
Some have been arguing that there is architectural value to the buildings but critics argue that, given their condition, they’re not only aesthetically unappealing but less than ideal for those living in them. The question should be asked, ‘Why do public housing communities tend to develop bad reputations and why do they tend to degrade in quality to the degree they do?
The nature of public housing is that it provides little in the sense of ownership for the resident. It probably doesn't help that, more broadly, Australian rental laws offer less scope for renters to make their home their own than other countries (less ability to alter the property’s appearance, fewer rights to long-term tenancy). This arguably perpetuates a culture where tenants feel less invested in caring for the properties. This problem is exacerbated by the demoralising anomie created through precarity that characterises the experience of many of those who live in Canberra’s social housing.
Anomie comes from a listlessness associated with sustained defeat, compounded by the condemnation lobbed at many in the precariat by politicians and middle-class commentators castigating them as lazy, directionless, undeserving, socially irresponsible or worse.
The precariat lives with anxiety—chronic insecurity associated not only with teetering on the edge… but also with a fear of losing what they possess even while feeling cheated by not having more. People who fear losing what they have are constantly frustrated. —The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class, pp. 19–20
Reinforcing cycles of defeat, frustration, and depression create the conditions for the condemnation the poor receive for being victims of social injustice. We live in a society where people become poor due to circumstances out of their control. We are also part of a society which thinks of itself as a meritocracy—if you’re wealthy, you’ve earned it, you’ve worked hard to get where you are. If you’re poor, you probably deserve it because you’ve not worked hard enough. Living with precarity drives a desperation that leads some to crime and substance abuse which, in turn, reinforces negative perceptions of poverty.
Most of the people I encountered during the 6 months I lived in Canberra’s social housing were just trying to make a home. For some (especially longer term) residents, there is a sense of having a stake in the place that they call home. There are others who see being offered deteriorating social housing as a crappy band-aid to cover them until such a time as they can re-enter the private market — although frustration at high prices leads them to wonder if it will ever happen. Such a situation does little to cultivate a desire to care for or improve the building and grounds.
Public housing is a symbol of our neighbourliness and hospitality as a community. What we offer our neighbours who need it should reflect our care for them. Therefore, the first step is to ensure they are offered a space that affirms their dignity and affords enough security of tenure that they can feel at home.
There are also ways we can improve the sense of investment by improving the experience of community for public housing tenants. New public housing could incorporate design elements that encourage community building . At the very least, regulations should not be restrictive of tenants’ abilities to enhance their environment — especially as a community. Additionally, intentional efforts to build community and solidarity among social housing tenants are essential. Tenants associations and co-operatives may help toward this end.
Co-operative options could include having residents living as a co-operative within public housing properties, or having space available to public housing tenants in co-operatives that own their own properties. According to Havelock Housing Association managers, other residents, and police, the presence of the Canberra Student Housing Co-operative at Havelock House has improved the tone, reputation and sense of security within its walls. Part of this may be that the co-operative model engenders a sense of ownership that leads its members to invest their energy and resources into improving life at Havelock (e.g. the construction of a shared community garden spearheaded by the co-op).


The option to join the co-operative is not open to other Havelock residents (unless they are tertiary students) and only thirty of about one hundred units are operated by the co-operative, so much of the impact has been through example. Intra-co-op interactions are characterised by trust and mutual support — and making these characteristics visible in social housing can have an incredibly positive impact where pre-existing trust might be low. In parts of the world where co-operative housing is more widespread, some jurisdictions have rented space within those co-operatives for public housing. For example a Danish model allows for government to buy-in as a member of the co-operative to dedicate some of the living space for social housing. Similar models would be possible here in Canberra if the co-operative housing model grows.
Representatives from the ACT Government have discussed their interest in ‘salt and pepper’ options that place public housing tenants among other types of residents. Whether it be by one method or another, the success of this model, just like the success of any new dedicated public housing facilities may depend on the extent to which public housing residents and their neighbours can build community together.
‘Good people live here’ is a statement on which effective public housing can be built. It affirms we’re not just investing in buildings, but the people who live in them. It says that they are worthy of our respect and that the fact that they are in need of housing support is not a reason for their shame, but a challenge that says that we can do better by them. Public housing, instead of being something to keep hidden, could be monuments to our values of community and hospitality. What could be more suitable at the gateway to our community?