What Risks In Whose Risk Society? 
An assessment of what effect, if any, the historic 
and contemporary socio-economic conditions and 
expectations of the community of Sands End, 
Fulham, London, had on the character and dynamics 
of the 1983-1984 debate over the decontamination 
and demolition of Fulham Power Station. 
by 
Simon Ashley Bennett 
Centre for Research into Innovation, Culture and 
Technology 
Department of Human Sciences 
Brunel University 
September 1996 
A Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of 
Philosophy 
(Volume 1 of 2) 
Abstract 
The thesis discusses the mediating role of socio- 
economic factors in risk debates through an examination 
of the decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power 
Station in 1983-1984. 
The power station was built between the wars by and for 
the people of Fulham. " Located on the Thames in the 
neighbourhood of Sands End, it generated electricity and 
provided employment until 1978, when it was sold to a 
property development company. 
During the decontamination, a quantity of asbestos was 
released into the environment. A protest group was 
formed to secure better standards of work at the site. 
The group never had more than a dozen active members. 
All the members were middle-class. 
At the time of the decontamination and demolition, Sands 
End was a poor neighbourhood. A majority of the local 
population faced many 'social' as well as environmental 
hazards. Amongst these were sub-standard housing, 
unemployment, under-employment, low wages, inadequate 
work and educational skills and crime. 
The thesis discusses whether the neighbourhood's socio- 
economic problems had any bearing on the character and 
dynamics of the power station debate. It suggests that 
the social geography and economic status of Sands End 
had two major effects on the debate. Firstly, 
gentrification provided the neighbourhood with a (small) 
middle-class constituency receptive to issues of 
environmental risk, such as the long-term health 
implications of airborne asbestos dust. Secondly, the 
neighbourhood's pressing social and economic problems 
mitigated against a wider involvement in the campaign. 
Most residents were too preoccupied with meeting their 
social and economic needs to become actively involved. 
The thesis also suggests that the population's 
experience of Fulham Power Station as a source of 
'convenient' electrical power, employment and civic 
pride may have made it difficult for those native to 
Sands End to accept the activists' construction of the 
power station as a source of danger. 
Acknowledgements 
My thanks go to all those who gave advice and 
encouragement. These include, most particularly, my 
Supervisor Dr. Alan Irwin, Reader in Sociology at the 
Faculty of Human Sciences, and avid Sunderland F. C. 
supporter. All those at the Centre for Research into 
Innovation, Culture and Technology, who gave me an 
office for the duration, and who, with Dr. Irwin, got me 
an ESRC grant. To Dr. Julian Petley, whose M. A. in 
Communications and Technology, by introducing me to the 
work of Irwin et al, inspired me to take my studies 
further. And, reaching way back in time to the 1970s, 
Professor Bob Haig and Dr. David Morris, whose B. A. in 
Public Administration at Sheffield City Polytechnic 
rescued me from failed A-Levels and an uncertain future. 
Introduction p. 1 
Chapter 1: A Sociology and Politics of Risk and Hazard p. 8 
1 Introduction 
2A Sociology of'Risk and Hazard 
2.1 Beck on 'Epochal Shifts' 
2.1.1 Introduction 
2.1.2 Inclusivity and Continuity 
2.2 Beck's 'Reflexive Modernity' 
2.2.1 Introduction 
2.2.2 Cartesian Cannibalism 
2.3 Beck on the 'Unpicking' of Science 
2.3.1 Introduction 
2.3.2 Science as Discourse 
2.4 Beck on the end of the Other' 
2.4.1 Introduction 
2.4.2 Ubiquitous Hazard 
2.5 Beck on the Techno-Bureaucratic Control 
2.5.1 Introduction 
2.5.2 Schizophrenic Science? 
3A Politics of Risk and Hazard 
3.1 Beck on 'Truncated Democracy' 
3.1.1 Introduction 
3.1.2 Unaccountable Power 
3.2 Beck on People Power 
3.2.1 Introduction 
3.2.2 The 'Revolution of the Subject' 
3.3 Beck on 'Scientization' 
3.3.1 Introduction 
3.3.2 Populist Science 
4 The Discourse in Summary 
of Hazard 
Chapter 2: Needed: A Political Economy of Risk and 
Hazard? 
1 Introduction 
2 The Complete Picture? 
2.1 A Subjectively Constituted Kaleidoscope of 
Risks and Hazards 
p. 82 
3 Conclusion 
Chapter 3: The Study Area: The Physical, Social and 
Economic and Environmental History of Sands End 
1 Introduction 
2A History of Sands End 
2.1 Physical Development 
2.1.1 Fulham Power Station: Catalyst of Twentieth 
Century Development 
2.2 Social and Economic Development 
2.3 Environmental Developments 
3 Conclusion 
Chapter 4: Formal and Informal Politics in Sands End 
1 Introduction 
2 Informal Political Culture 
2.1 Townmead Estate Residents Revolt Over Road 
(TERROR) 
2.2 The Association of Residents in Sands End 
2.2.1 History 
2.2.2 Objectives 
2.2.3 Interests, Campaigns and Sponsorships 
2.2.4 Financing 
2.2.5 Public Participation in, and Perception of ARISE 
2.2.6 Conclusion 
2.3 Other Groups and Initiatives 
2.4 Philanthropy 
3 Formal Political Culture 
3.1 Parliamentary Representation 
3.2 The Greater London Council (GLC) 
3.3 The London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham 
(LBHF) 
3.3.1 LBHF from 1980 to the Present 
3.3.2 News from the Town Hall 
4 The Local Press 
4.1 Introduction 
4.2 The Agenda 
5 Conclusion 
Chapter 5: Asbestos -A Risk issue? 
1 Introduction 
2 Cancer - The 'Disease of Civilisation' 
2.1 Characteristics of the Disease 
2.2 Prevalence of the Disease 
2.3 The Causes of Cancer 
2.3.1 Introduction 
2.3.2 The 'Establishment' View 
2.3.3 The 'Radical' View 
2.3.4 Conclusion 
p. 126 
p. 211 
p. 240 
2.4 Treatment 
2.4.1 'The War on Cancer' 
2.4.2 Victory, Stalemate or Defeat? 
2.4.3 The Social Construction of Anti-Cancer Strategies 
2.5 Conclusion 
3 Asbestos 
3.1 Nature, History and Uses 
3.2 Asbestos: 'Wonder Mineral' 
3.3 Asbestos: 'Health-Disaster' 
3.3.1 Introduction 
3.3.2 The Opposition's Case 
4 Mesothelioma 
4.1 Introduction 
4.1.1 Michael Watson's Death 
4.1.2 David Standen's Death 
4.2 Prevalence of the Disease 
4.3 Characteristics of the Disease 
4.4 The Debate Over Causation 
4.4.1 Introduction 
4.4.2 The Optimists 
4.4.3 The Pessimists 
5 Conclusion 
Chapter 6: Fulham Power Station: Decontamination 
and Demolition 
1 Introduction 
2 Chronology 
2.1 The Decontamination and Demolition of Fulham 
Power Station 
2.2 Relevant Incidents and Developments Prior to 
the Fulham Power Station Debate 
2.3 Relevant Incidents and Developments that Occurred 
During the Fulham Power Station Debate 
3 Conclusion 
Chapter 7: Fulham Power Station: Activism 
1 Introduction 
2 Methodology 
2.1 Introduction 
2.2 Narrative Sources 
2.2.1 Contemporary Interviews 
2.2.2 Press and Periodical Reporting 
2.2.3 Broadcast Media 
3 Data 
3.1 Interview Accounts 
3.1.1 Introduction 
3.1.2 Responses 
3.2 Press and Periodical Reporting 
p. 318 
p. 365 
3.2.1 Introduction 
3.2.2 Press Reporting of 
3.2.3 Press Reporting of 
3.2.4 Press Reporting of 
(other than TERROR) 
3.3 Radio Reporting 
3.3.1 Introduction 
3.3.2 Conflict On Air 
4 Conclusion 
the Views of TERROR Activists 
the Views of the General Public 
the Views of Local Groups 
Chapter 8: The Fulham Power Station Debate: 
Themes and Characteristics 
1 Introduction 
2 Themes of the Debate 
2.1 The Construction of a Hazard 
2.1.1 Conclusion 
2.2 A Question of Attribution 
2.2.1 Conclusion 
2.3 Responsibility, Accountability, Trust 
3 Characteristics of the Debate 
3.1 The Demonstrably Risk-Conscious 
3.2 The Demonstrably Risk-Conscious: Conclusion 
4 Themes and Characteristics: Conclusion 
Conclusion 
1 Introduction 
2 Context 
2.1 Socio-Economic 
2.1.1 Introduction 
2.1.2 Macro 
2.1.3 Micro 
2.1.4 Conclusion 
2.2 Other Environmental Issues as Context 
2.2.1 Introduction 
2.2.2 Contemporary Environmental Concerns 
2.2.3 Commercial Asbestos vies with Domestic Asbestos 
for Public Attention 
2.2.4 Conclusion 
3A Class Act? 
3.1 Introduction 
3.2 Pedigree of the Power Station Activists 
3.3 Conclusion 
4A Climate for Protest? 
p. 417 
p. 455 
5 The Verdict 
Bibliography p. 492 
Appendices 
Introduction 
In his seminal work, Risk Society, Ulrich Beck. claims 
that, in the various 'welfare states of the West'; 
[T]he struggle for one's 'daily bread' has 
lost its urgency as a cardinal problem 
overshadowing everything else... 
He also claims that, as a natural corollary of this 
development; 
[T] he knowledge is spreading that the sources 
of wealth are 'polluted' by growing 'hazardous 
side effects' (P. 20). 
These complementary developments are two of the chief 
characteristics of the 'Risk Society'. 
The Risk Society is a society in which the general 
public, freed from the shackles of economic need, are at 
liberty to ponder the multiplying risks and hazards of 
unbridled 'techno-scientific' development. 
Beck acknowledges, however, that even in the most 
prosperous European country, Germany, the Risk Society 
has not yet been fully realised. Germany is in a period 
of transition from the old to the new: 
We do not yet live in a Risk Society, but we 
also no longer live only within the 
distribution conflicts of scarcity societies 
(p. 20). 
Through the medium of the Risk Society concept, Beck has 
given us a powerful heuristic: a new and imaginative way 
of comprehending our kaleidoscopic and rapidly 
1 
transforming fin-de-siecle world. To this extent, the 
concept could be said to constitute a 'grand narrative' 
on 'late Modernity'. 
Beck's 'grand narrative', however, is written from the 
perspective of one of the richest countries in Europe. 
Of course, Beck is careful to point out that even 
Germany has not yet achieved the Nirvana of a completely 
reflexive, self-aware Risk Society, in which "the logic 
of wealth distribution in a society of scarcity" is 
superseded by "the logic of risk distribution in late 
modernity" (p. 19). Not even in Germany have "problems of 
overweight take[n] the place of hunger" in all cases 
(p. 20). 
Accepting Beck's view that we live in a time of 
'multiplying techno-scientific risks and hazards', it 
should not be forgotten that such novel risks and 
hazards are perceived and evaluated in specific social, 
economic and political contexts - contexts often rich in 
such familiar and potentially debilitating socio- 
economic risks and hazards as low pay, casualised 
labour, underemployment, unemployment, drug abuse, crime 
and sub-standard housing. Such problems affect different 
countries in different degrees. Indeed, they can affect 
different regions or even different neighbourhoods in 
different degrees. Such 'uneveness' would seem to sound 
a note of caution with respect to 'grand narrative'. 
The persistence (at least in Britain) of socio-economic 
risks and hazards, raises a rather interesting question, 
namely; To what extent do such 'social' risks mediate 
2 
the public's perception of, and reaction to the 
'multiplying techno-scientific risks and hazards' of 
late Modernity? 
XThis 
question is grounded in some very interesting and 
revealing research, much of which originates in the 
United States. For example, in the 1987 publication, 
Neighbourhood and Community Environments (Plenum, US), 
Michael Edelstein and Abraham Wandersman investigated 
the reaction of Niagara's chemical workers to the Love 
Canal chemical contamination scare. What they discovered 
seemed to suggest that socio-economic factors may 
influence risk perceptions: 
At Love Canal, many men worked in the chemical 
industry. They were more likely to engage in 
denial over the potential ill effects of 
chemical exposure. They may also have felt 
loyal to their employers and/or feared that 
the toxic issue might cause them to lose their 
fobs [My emphasis] (p. 85) . 
A journalistic piece written about the workers of 
'Chemical Valley' in West Virginia (one of the poorest 
states in the Union) shortly after the Bhopal chemical 
disaster in India revealed a similar mentality. As one 
chemical worker put it; 
What are you going to do? I worry all the time 
about the stuff I smell and about some of the 
things I've seen over there. But I'm making 
$11 an hour doing inside work. In West 
Virginia, you don't walk away from top dollar 
like that (Chaze, W. L., 'Grim Cloud Of Worry 
Reaches U. S. ', U. S. News and World Report, 
December 17,1984, p. 27). 
Thus it can be seen that, at least on the basis of this 
3 
trans-Atlantic evidence, socio-economic factors may at 
least influence - if not determine - attitudes to 
techno-scientific risks and hazards. 
Of course, the question may be posed in a number of 
ways. In the cases quoted above, the interviewees' 
perceptions of techno-scientific risks and hazards were 
mediated by economic considerations. Fear of 
unemployment, and of its consequences in economically 
depressed communities, appeared to 'de-sensitise' the 
Chemical Valley and Niagara workers to risk. At the 
other end of the spectrum, it is worth asking whether 
material wealth and physical comfort can serve to 
heighten a person's sensitivity to techno-scientific 
risks and hazards. (Perhaps this is what Beck is seeing 
in Germany). 
Both these questions are addressed in the study which 
lies at the heart of this thesis, namely a detailed 
review of the events surrounding the decontamination and 
demolition of a redundant power station in Sands End, 
Fulham, West London, between 1983 and 1984. 
Fulham Power Station was sold by the Central Electricity 
Generating Board in 1983 to a property development 
company, on the understanding that it would be safely 
stripped of asbestos, the major contaminant at the 
station, and then demolished. Unfortunately, due to the 
inexperience of the decontamination and demolition 
contractors engaged by the property company, and alleged 
incompetence of the responsible supervisory authorities, 
asbestos dust was released into the environment. A 
4 
protest group was formed, which, after determined 
lobbying, forced the agencies and companies involved to 
improve their performance, and the government of the day 
to reverse its power station sales policy. 
The group that ran the-power station campaign numbered 
no more than a dozen residents. It was led by a cabal of 
three. All the campaigners were middle-class. Most were 
newcomers to Sands End. Although the group held a couple 
of well attended public meetings, most residents played 
no active part in the campaign. 
Sands End was, at the time of the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station, a neighbourhood with 
numerous deep-seated social and economic problems, many 
of which had been around, in one form or another, since 
the early Nineteenth Century. 
At the same time, gentrification was beginning to change 
the neighbourhood's social complexion. 
Thus the question arises as to what bearing - if any - 
the neighbourhood's social and economic milieu had on 
the 'character and dynamics of the debate over the 
decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power Station'. 
The question is addressed here in a number of stages: 
Given the focus of the research - namely a community's 
reaction to an issue of environmental risk - Chapter 1 
offers a detailed analysis of Beck's 'Risk Society' 
thesis, couched in a more general analysis of the 
conditions of late Modernity as they are seen to apply 
in Britain. To this end, the work of people like Anthony 
S 
Giddens and the New Times contributing authors is quoted 
at some length. The resulting sociological analysis of 
Britain in the 1980s and 1990s allows the events of 
1983-1984 to be placed in some sort of macro socio- 
economic context. 
Having explored the 'Risk Society' thesis at some 
length, Chapter 2 discusses whether socio-economic 
factors may, under certain circumstances, influence risk 
perception and behaviour. To this end, a number of 
journalistic investigations (as well as formal academic 
studies) are quoted. The intention, as elsewhere in this 
thesis, is to let the workers and public speak for 
themselves on the matter of techno-scientific risk. 
Having examined the national social, economic and 
political context to the power station debate in Chapter 
1, Chapter 3 describes the social and economic 
conditions that obtained specifically in Sands End at 
the time of the debate. (For completeness, the 
neighbourhood's environmental and physical conditions 
are also described). 
The emphasis on context is continued into Chapter 4, 
which describes the local political scene at the time of 
the power station debate. (The chapter covers both 
formal and informal political activity). 
Chapter 5 is something of a diversion (albeit a 
necessary one) in that it focuses not on Sands End and 
the power station campaign per se, but rather on the 
contaminant at the heart of the risk debate - asbestos. 
Disagreements over the mineral's carcinogenic status 
6 
(its propensity to cause cancer) are described in 
detail. The intention is to show what information the 
public could have expected to be given on asbestos - and 
on the 'cancer epidemic' in general - at the time of the 
debate. 
Chapter 6 refocuses on the events of 1983-1984 with a 
detailed history of the decontamination and demolition 
of Fulham Power Station. This is a factual history. The 
activists' subjective views are examined in Chapter 7. 
Cha, Dter 7 lets the activists 'speak for themselves' on 
the decontamination and demolition. The activists' own 
views, and those they ascribed to the general public, 
are reproduced at length. 
Chapter 8 lists the major themes and characteristics of 
the protest. The themes are distilled from the various 
narratives reproduced in Chapter 7. The characteristics 
are synthesised from both the history of the protest and 
the activists' narratives. 
The Conclusion addresses the question at the heart of 
the thesis directly, namely, did the historic and 
contemporary socio-economic conditions of Sands End have 
any bearing on the campaign over the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station? 
7 
Chapter 1 
A Sociology and Politics of Risk and Hazard. 
1 Introduction. 
This chapter has two 'main objectives. Firstly, to 
develop a general theory of the techno-scientific risks 
and hazards and changing social dynamics of our fin-de- 
siecle world. And secondly, to provide a viable 
sociological 'tool kit' for an analysis of the 
labyrinthine social, economic and techno-scientific 
dynamics of the Fulham Power Station debate. To these 
ends, the chapter focuses on the work of Ulrich Beck, 
whose book, Risk Society, has been widely praised for 
its contribution to our understanding of 'late 
Modernity'. Risk Society (originally published in 
Germany in 1986 but not published in Britain until 
1992), has been called a "Remarkable book" that "Gives 
one cause to think again about whether a new model might 
not be becoming available for thinking about our times" 
(Rustin, M., 'Incomplete Modernity: Ulrich Beck's Risk 
Society', Radical Philosophy 67, Summer, 1994, Britain, 
p. 3). While there has been some adverse comment, one 
reviewer stating, for example, that Risk Society 
contains "More assertion than evidence" (Hall, J. R., 
'Risk Society: Towards A New Modernity', Sociological 
Review, Volume 42, Number 2, May 1994, Britain, p. 345), 
the consensus has been that the work provides a 
promising stepping-off point for an exploration of the 
condition of late Modernity - and especially of 
contemporary techno-scientific risks and hazards. The 
8 
interest shown by Anthony Giddens, and numerous other 
sociologists and political scientists in Beck's work 
further attests to its importance. 
Despite being well received, it has been said that 
Beck's work is too culturally specific to be generally 
applied. As Rustin puts it, "[Risk Society] is informed 
theoretically by Habermas... and by the anti- 
productionist concerns of the Greens, who have acquired 
in West Germany a unique degree of representation and 
influence; and by a well-grounded sociology of German 
society... " (Op Cit, p. 3) . British Greens enjoy 
significantly less power than their German counterparts. 
Indeed, the British green movement is in something of a 
crisis, as evinced by the 1994 attempt at political 
retrenchment (Schoon, N., 'Green Leaders Seek Charity 
Allies', The Independent, June 2,1994). To counter the 
criticism that Beck's work is culturally myopic, the 
chapter 'triangulates' Beck's analysis with that of 
Giddens and the authors of New Times (who include such 
luminaries as Stuart Hall, Beatrix Campbell, Geoff 
Mulgan, Fred Steward and Martin Jacques). 
It is noteworthy that Ulrich Beck wrote Risk Society at 
about the same time as the Fulham Power Station debate 
(which raged during the early 1980s). The fact that the 
book is a contemporary of the debate provides a further 
justification - if one were needed - for its prominence 
in this study. 
9 
2A Sociology of Risk and Hazard. 
2.1 Beck on 'Epochal Shifts,. 
2.1.1 Introduction. 
Beck's view that epochs interpenetrate and overlap helps 
us to understand the complex (and sometimes confused) 
social, economic and political dynamics of Fulham at the 
time of the power station debate. (The development of 
Fulham, and particularly of Sands End, will be traced in 
detail in Chapter 3). 
2.1.2 Inclusivity and Continuity. 
While it is fashionable in some quarters to talk of a 
transition from industrial to 'post-industrial' society, 
or, rather more esoterically, from 'Modernity' to 'late' 
or 'post-Modernity', Beck asserts that industrial 
production, albeit in modified form, is still a corner- 
stone of even the most advanced Northern economies. 
While he concedes that "Industrial society is a 
permanently revolutionary society", he is adamant that 
"After each industrial revolution what remains is an 
industrial society". Indeed, the new, industrial 
society may be "Perhaps that bit more industrial" than 
the old (Beck, U., Risk Society, Sage, Britain, 1992, 
p. il) . 
Beck is careful not to overstate the importance of 
apparently 'revolutionary' developments in manufacture. 
Much has been made, for example, of new systems of 
'flexible production', where the characteristics of a 
10 
product can be quickly changed to meet new market 
conditions. However, as Beck points out, innovations 
like flexible production are underpinned by classic 
'Fordist' production methods. Such methods were 
pioneered by Henry Ford at his River Rouge automobile 
plant in the United States in the first half of the 
Twentieth Century. Ford, determined to beat his 
competitors on both price and quality, developed a 
system of manufacture known as 'mass production'. While 
his competitors were content to produce small numbers of 
cars largely by hand, Henry Ford developed the highly 
mechanised 'flowline' system of production, whereby 
vehicles were built on a moving 'assembly line' by 
workers who performed a small number of highly specified 
tasks, often with the aid of single function machines. 
Mechanisation, in concert with the close direction of 
human effort, enabled large numbers of cars to be 
produced at relatively low cost. The 'economies of 
scale' achieved at River Rouge and other Ford plants 
like the Dagenham works in East London, enabled the Ford 
Corporation to dominate the car market for many years. 
'Fordism' was an outstanding success for its inventor 
and his customers, and later for his competitors. 
The hegemony of Fordist production methods lasted until 
the 1973 Yom Kippur War, when oil prices rose 
dramatically as a consequence of the Arab-Israeli 
conflict (Hutton, W., The State We're In, Cape, Britain, 
1995, p. 59). The changed market conditions that followed 
the war prompted firms to seek to reduce wage costs to 
restore profit margins and market share. The panacea 
11 
seemed to lie partly in new systems of 'flexible 
production' (Murray, R., 'Fordism and Post-Fordism' in 
Hall, S., and Jacques, M., (Eds) New Times, Lawrence and 
Wishart, Britain, 1989, p. 42). Using programmable 
machine tools and other forms of 'flexibilised 
manufacture', firms were able to produce a much wider 
range of designs. This allowed them to both create and 
respond to 'niche' markets. The era of 'customisation' 
had arrived. Such developments led economists and 
sociologists to talk of a new age of 'post-Fordism', 
where rapidly multiplying tastes and preferences could 
be satisfied by increasingly differentiated product 
ranges. 
However, following Beck's analysis, talk of an 'epochal 
shift' from Fordism to post-Fordism, or from modernity 
to late or post-Modernity, is decidedly premature 
(Rustin, M., 'The Trouble With 'New Times'', in New 
Times, Op Cit, p. 308). As mentioned above, flexible 
production systems are underwritten by Fordist 
production methods: The car industry prides itself on 
the greatly expanded range of models and 'trim levels' 
now offered. But closer examination reveals that while 
the cars are superficially different, the basic 
engineering is remarkably consistent across all models. 
Because of the very high development costs of basic 
engineering, the same chassis and running gear will be 
used for a range of ostensibly 'individual' automobiles. 
Even 'innovatory' customisation processes depend 
ultimately on old-style Fordist production methods, with 
smaller components being mass produced by subsidiary or 
12 
sub-contracting firms. The production runs may be 
shorter, but components are still produced in numbers 
sufficient to achieve the all-important economies of 
scale that keep costs low and help maintain profit 
margins. In this way, Fordism (albeit in modified form) 
survives in a 'Post-Fordist' world. As Beck puts it, 
today's 'flexibilised', niche-marketed products are "New 
types of hybrids, mass-produced and individualised" 
(Ibid, p. 220) . What Beck 
is trying to say is that 
'epochal shifts' are never as clean and final as some 
totalising theorists would have us believe. Yes, the 
1970s saw the development of new modes of production, 
but these were (necessarily) underwritten by Fordist 
production techniques. 
Society is 'messy': In Beck's words, "The future... is 
just beginning to take shape against the still 
predominant past" (Ibid, p. 9). This is quite obviously 
the case in Sands End, where elegant glass and marble 
condominiums built to house the rich stand cheek by jowl 
with decaying Victorian and Edwardian terraced houses, 
and where Internet-linked air conditioned offices 
overlook car breaking yards and waste transfer stations 
where the workers sleep in poky caravans. Such a complex 
reality is not amenable to simplistic analyses. 
Different modes of economic production and of social 
organisation interpenetrate and overlap. To say that we 
live in a 'post-Fordist' epoch is plainly wrong, not 
least because the economic development of the southern 
hemisphere rests firmly on Fordist industries exported 
by the north. Witness, for example, the export of low 
13 
value-added chemical production processes to the Third 
World (The Financial Times, October 20,1994), or the 
export of consumer durable assembly lines to Mexico from 
North America (The Observer, December 12,1993). Talk of 
a 'post-Fordist', 'post-industrial' or even 'post- 
modern' economic and social order may sell newspaper 
copy, but reality is rather more complex. And for 
newspaper or magazine editors, perhaps rather less 
exciting. 
The consensus amongst many of Beck's contemporaries is 
very much that the periodization of social and economic 
history into distinct, mutually exclusive epochs, is 
inappropriate. The categorisation of the 1980s and 1990s 
as 'post-Fordist' hides a richer economic and social 
tableau. As Michael Rustin writes in New Times: 
Post-Fordism is better seen as one ideal- 
typical model or strategy of production and 
regulation, co-present with others in a 
complex historical ensemble, than as a valid 
totalising description of an emerging social 
formation here and now [My emphasis] (p. 308). 
New Times authors challenge Benedict Anderson's 
assertion that history consists of 'empty, homogeneous 
time'. Rather, history consists of "Processes with 
different time-scales and trajectories [that] may be 
convened in the same conjuncture" (Ibid, p. 126). While 
New Times contributors admit to the advent of post- 
Fordist forms of economic and social organisation, they 
are convinced that "We are not debating an oc al 
shift, of the order of the famous transition from 
feudalism to capitalism" (Ibid, p. 127). While post- 
14 
Fordist or flexibilised production systems constitute 
the vanguard of economic development, they are supported 
by more 'traditional' forms of economic organisation. 
This is why Hall and Jacques qualify the statement 
"Post-Fordism is at the leading-edge of change, 
increasingly setting the tone of society... " with the 
admission that "Fordism is still alive and well in many 
places" (Ibid, p. 12). Indeed, if Robin Murray is correct 
in his assertion that "In many sectors... industry [is] 
frozen in Fordism" (Ibid, p. 51), then British society is 
much less changed than Hall and Jacques acknowledge. And 
where changes have taken place, they have not always 
followed the post-Fordist stereotype of intense 
automation and de-manning. At IBM's Greenock circuit 
board factory, for example, the intelligent robots 
introduced during the 1980s have been replaced by 
humans. This 'regressive modernisation' resulted from 
the discovery that even the most intelligent and 'open' 
machines were not as efficient as humans on flexibilised 
production lines. As an IBM Human Relations specialist 
explains: 
We don't use [robots] now... our customers 
began to want their computers more customised 
- tailored to individual needs. We looked at 
the robots, compared the cost of reprogramming 
them with the performance of the average human 
worker. . . and went 
back to humans. Much cheaper 
and more efficient (Kane, P., 'The Man 
Machines', The Guardian, Weekend Magazine, 
August 7,1993). 
It is therefore important to recognise that while post- 
Fordist forms of economic organisation are (slowly) 
emerging, such new forms are underpinned by Fordist 
15 
structures and practices. These structures do not 
constitute a 'reverse salient', but are an essential 
prerequisite to whatever post-Fordist innovation might 
take place. Social and economic development arises out 
of a messy and chaotic melange of 'old' and new, forms 
of organisation. (This is especially true of Sands End). 
Consequently, the easy periodizations of contemporary 
society offered by the post-Fordists, post- 
industrialists and post-Modernists are largely 
irrelevant. As Charlie Leadbeater has put it; 
When I conjure images of the old ideal of 
progress I see a fleet of combine harvesters 
sweeping relentlessly, blindly, through a 
field of corn. When I imagine the new ideal of 
progress I see an agitated metronome clicking 
erratically backwards and forwards. For the 
new ideal of progress is not about linear, 
straight, predictable lines. It is about a 
series of dualities and tensions. Tensions 
between modernisation and history, uncertainty 
and security, strategy and flexibility. .. The 
metronome is constantly moving between these 
poles... Indeed sometimes it appears to move in 
both directions at once [My emphasis] (Hall, 
S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 409). 
As mentioned earlier, the uneven quality of contemporary 
economic development can be observed in Sands End where 
shopping malls and corporate headquarters operate cheek- 
by-jowl with waste transfer stations, car breakers and 
small workshops. 
Social change, too, is inherently uneven. For example, 
while, according to 'The UK's First Report to the UN 
Committee on the Rights of the Child', "Real disposable 
income of all types of families is now on average 
appreciably higher than in 1979" [My emphasis], the 
16 
number of British children living in poverty trebled 
between 1979 and 1992. Further, the real income of the 
poorest 10% of British families fell by 14% over the 
same period (Lansdown, G., 'Seen But Not Heard', The 
Guardian, March 23,1994). It is therefore clear that 
the statement 'real disposable income.. . 
is now on 
average appreciably higher than in 1979' hides a more 
complex, 'messy' reality. Such totalising narratives 
(expediently) gloss over a much more confused and 
unsatisfactory picture. It will be shown later that 
uneven socio-economic development is very much a 
characteristic of the history of Sands End. 
The same sort of uneveness is to be found in urban 
development, where much lauded renewal schemes like 
London Docklands, or the Leeds canal basin scheme with 
its Taylor Woodrow apartments, Royal Armouries Museum 
and £600,000 foot-bridge (Binney, M., 'Building A Future 
On The Waterfront', The Times, February 5,1994), lie 
alongside large tracts of inner city decay and 
dereliction. As Geoff Mulgan puts it, "The cities of the 
future divide between gleaming skyscrapers housing the 
core workers in the ministries and transnational 
corporations, and a brutalised, 
impoverished. . . periphery, set in the blackened remains 
of the industrial age" (Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op 
Cit, p. 263). For Beatrix Campbell, 'impoverished 
peripheries' are now commonplace: "These neighbourhoods 
exist everywhere. They are often the size of a small 
town, not exotic exceptions... They shape the character 
of the national landscape no less than chimneys, the 
17 
post office.. . or motorways" (Campbell, B., Goliath, 
Methuen, Britain, 1993, p. xi). Anyone who has walked the 
bleak, under-invested estates of Canning Town in East 
London, and has drawn a comparison with the marble and 
aluminium-clad monoliths of Canary Wharf cannot doubt 
the veracity of such observations. Again, these 
conditions may be observed in Sands End, where gleaming, 
concierge-served private residential towers hover over a 
decaying tableau of Victorian and Edwardian dwellings 
and under-invested high rise council blocks. 
2.2 Beck's 'Reflexive Modernity'. 
2.2.1 Introduction. 
Beck's discourse on 'reflexivity' suggests why some of 
the residents of Sands End objected so strongly to the 
demolition of their power station: A general reflexivity 
served to heighten the activists environmental and risk 
consciousness, while a personal reflexivity provided the 
motivation and confidence for action. (Beck's discourse 
on the increased personal reflexivity, expectation and 
confidence of women in late-modernity may be of some 
relevance to the social dynamics of the Fulham Power 
Station debate, in which a number of previously 
politically inactive local women played a prominent 
part). In his assertion that reflexivity is chiefly the 
prerogative of the better off Beck also provides an 
explanation for the inactivity (or distraction? ) of the 
majority of the residents of Sands End during the 
debate. 
18 
2.2.2 Cartesian Cannibalism. 
Early in Risk Society, Beck asserts that "... We are 
witnessing not the end but the beginning of modernity" 
(Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 10). This contemporary modernity is 
a 'reflexive' modernity. It is a modernity "Beyond its 
classical industrial design" (Ibid, p. 10) . It 
is a 
modernity that displays both continuity and 
discontinuity with past forms. While reflexive modernity 
is no less industrial than its Nineteenth Century 
antecedent (see 2.1.2, above), its core philosophy of 
progress through science and technology is subjected to 
an intense critique. Therefore, while 'reflexive 
modernity' is still very much an industrial modernity, 
it is fundamentally a questioning, or doubting 
modernity. As Beck explains: 
[W] hile in classical industrial society the 
'logic' of wealth production dominates the 
'logic' of risk production, in the risk 
society this relationship is reversed... The 
productive forces have lost their 
innocence... The gain in power from techno- 
economic 'progress' is being increasingly 
overshadowed by the production of risks (Ibid, 
p. 12). 
Thus reflexive modernity produces a 'Risk Society'. The 
term 'reflexivity' is used by Beck to represent two 
quite different, but interrelated processes. The first 
process is that of a planet, transformed by industry and 
neglect, 'turning against itself'. In this first sense, 
industrial poisoning threatens both the health of the 
planet and its animal and human inhabitants. This is the 
'boomerang effect', where man is undone by his own 
19 
arrogance and complacency. The second meaning of the 
term 'reflexivity' is a heightened awareness of the 
environmental disamenities resulting from unbridled 
wealth production. The Cartesian ideal of 'Homo Faber' - 
man the inventor - man the master of nature - is called 
into question by an' increasingly reflexive population. 
This scepticism is a phenomenon peculiar, according to 
Beck, to the rich, sated societies of the Northern 
hemisphere. Here, the 'triumph of technology', in 
concert with sophisticated welfare systems, has banished 
need (although wants are seldom satisfied). As Beck puts 
it, in the First World "The commonality of anxiety takes 
the place of the commonality of need" (Ibid, p. 49). 
The relative prosperity of First World countries is 
quite startling. While per-capita gross national product 
(GNP) in China, for example, a country undergoing a 
'dramatic' economic transformation, is $350 per annum, 
per-capita GNP in Britain is $14,610 per annum. While 
per-capita GNP in Indonesia, a country often criticised 
for over exploiting' its natural resources (chiefly 
forests), is $500 per annum, per-capita GNP in the 
United States (a country often critical of those who 
, over exploit' their resources) is $20,910 per annum. At 
the top of the league table of wealth is Switzerland, 
with a per-capita GNP of $29,880 per annum ('Number 
Crunching The World', The New Internationalist, 
No. 232/June 1992). Such relative prosperity encourages - 
or at least makes possible -a heightened 'risk 
consciousness' amongst Northern peoples: 
In the welfare states of the West a double 
20 
process is taking place.. . On the one hand, the 
struggle for one's 'daily bread' has lost its 
urgency... compared to material subsistence in 
the first half of this century and to a Third 
World menaced by hunger... 
Parallel to that, the knowledge is spreading 
that the sources of wealth are 'polluted' by 
growing 'hazardous side effects'. This.. . has 
remained unnoticed for a long time in the 
efforts to overcome poverty. This dark side 
is. 
. . gaining 
importance through the over- 
development of productive forces... 
Both sources feed a growing critique of 
modernisation, which loudly... determines 
public discussions (Beck, U., Risk Society, 
p. 20). 
While Beck makes a major contribution to our 
understanding of the socio-political dynamics of late 
modernity, his economic analysis is perhaps a little 
crude. Thus Beck pays little attention to the effect 
inequalities within countries might have on the 
propensity and capacity of its people to reflect upon 
and improve their physical environment. As contemporary 
research shows, many British people are still 
'struggling for their daily bread'. Thus, according to 
one commentator, "[T]he Conservatives' social policy has 
created more poor people and cemented them in" (Toynbee, 
P., 'Ways Without Means' in Search, Joseph Rowntree 
Foundation, Summer, 1996, p. 25). (The applicability of 
Beck's economic analysis to the British experience will 
be explored in detail later). 
Beck's assertion that the 'hazardous side effects' of 
industry have remained 'unnoticed for a long time, will 
also be debated, in light of evidence that working 
people have a long-standing consciousness of industrial 
risk and hazard -a consciousness that, on occasion, has 
21 
translated into action. (Consider, for example, the 1888 
'matchgirls' strike' over working conditions at the 
Bryant and May factory in Bow, East London. The strike, 
partly a protest over "'Phossy jaw' - the loss of teeth 
and gums through breathing phosphorous when making 
matches" ('Social Change, Geography and Policy', Open 
University, 1982, p. 64), brought all of Bryant and May's 
672 women workers out in a successful action). 
Beck's reflexive modernity heralds other novel 
developments besides a heightened sensitivity to 
environmental disamenity and physical hazard. Foremost 
amongst these is a 'personal reflexivity', or 
questioning of established patterns of life and social 
mores. While we still live in an industrial society (See 
2.1.2, above), the nuclear family, foundation stone of 
that form of social organisation, is fragmenting. Within 
the family, the 'embedded standard biographies' are 
being re-written in the context of wider social and 
economic changes, such as increased female employment 
(in the future some 80% of new jobs will be for women), 
equality of educational opportunity, free and convenient 
birth control and easier divorce. According to Beck, 
these liberations herald a higher form of modernity, 
even a mature modernity. In the latter half of the 
Twentieth Century, not only is industry reaching its 
zenith, but citizens of the new modernity are achieving 
new heights of liberation and self-expression. Today, 
because people "Are set free from the apparently 
naturally ordained ways of life" (Beck, U., Op Cit, 
p. 153), the myth that Nineteenth Century industrial 
22 
society was a truly 'modern' society is exploded. 
A defining characteristic of this 'new modernity' is 
what Beck calls 'individualisation', by which he means 
the development of a powerful and radical 'politics of 
individual identity'. (It will be shown later that 
'individualisation' was also a defining characteristic 
of the Fulham Power Station debate). As he explains, 
individualisation relates to "The demand for control of 
one's own money, time, living space and body" (Ibid, 
p. 92). Individualisation is about women and men (but 
especially women) rejecting established forms of social 
structuration, such as the nuclear family, gender roles 
or religious practice, and defining a life and identity 
from within. Beck's observations are supported by market 
research on contemporary attitudes to families, jobs and 
partners. As Mintel's Family Lifestyles 1993 report put 
it, 90s parents "Do not see themselves solely as 'Mum' 
or 'Dad', but are aware of the need to keep in touch 
with the person they were before they became parents". 
The report goes on; 
Clearly parents need the opportunity to 
express themselves as people in their own 
right rather than as simply mothers or 
fathers: this is especially true of mothers, 
who are still in the greatest danger of losing 
their identity amid the demands of motherhood. 
The report concludes that the trend towards smaller 
families is as much a product of 'growing individualism' 
as of economic pressures (Family Lifestyles 1993 in The 
Independent, July 28,1993, p. 5). However, while 
processes of individuation and self actualisation can be 
23 
hugely rewarding, there are, as Beck reminds us, 
significant obstacles to liberation. These 
countervailing forces are particularly acute for women. 
For example, while it is true that there are now more 
educational opportunities for women, employment choices 
are limited. The chances of a woman finding a job 
commensurate with her qualifications and intellectual 
skills are comparatively low. While the number of jobs 
for women is increasing, the jobs are often low paid, 
low-skilled, part-time, non-pensioned and insecure 
(Curtice, J., 'Satisfying Work - If You Can Get It' in 
Jowell, R., et al, International Social Attitudes: The 
10th BSA Report, Dartmouth, Britain, 1993, p. 107). 
Therefore, while women may be 'free from, traditional 
constraints, structural inequalities and 
institutionalised discrimination mean that they are not 
'free to' realise their potential. 
Women who successfully liberate themselves from 
(potentially oppressive) traditional networks become, to 
use Beck's phrase, 'wage dependent'. When such wages are 
inadequate, a new, gendered underclass can begin to 
emerge. Inevitably, male dominated industrial, 
bureaucratic and political elites seek to maintain their 
hegemony by closing down opportunities to women. The 
resulting disjuncture between consciousness and 
conditions creates conflict. 'Sex War' results: 
This ... mixture of new consciousness and old 
conditions is explosive... Through more equal 
educational opportunities and an increased 
awareness of their position, young women have 
built up expectations of more equality... which 
encounter contrary developments in the labour 
24 
market and in male behaviour... [M] en have 
practised a rhetoric of equality, without 
matching their words with deeds. On both sides 
the ice of illusion has grown thin... 
There is much to be said for the prognosis of 
a long conflict; the opposition of the sexes 
will determine the coming years (Beck, U., Op 
Cit, p. 103). 
Current social research confirms Beck's observations on 
the position of women in society. As a report from the 
Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) has pointed 
out, the nuclear family "Does not represent reality" (Mc 
Gourty, C., 'Dream Of Equality Turns To Dust For Most 
Women', The Daily Telegraph, August 31,1993) for the 
majority of young people. Out of a large sample of women 
born in 1958, eighteen percent had been divorced by the 
age of 33 (Ibid). Because of the poor quality of the 
jobs available to most women, marital breakdowns "Were 
creating a new underclass of women trapped in an 
'economic ghetto' from which they might never escape" 
(Ibid). As a consequence of structural inequalities and 
institutionalised discrimination, women had become 
"Disillusioned with work and politics". Indeed, such 
were the odds against them achieving their potential 
through work that "Less than half thought that having a 
job was better than being unemployed" (Ibid). 
The ESRC report confirms Beck's view that a gendered 
poverty trap has been created. As one of the authors of 
the ESRC study puts it; 
Women tend to leave the labour market when 
they have children, thereby losing their 
earning power. If they split up with their 
partner, they are no longer in a position to 
earn a living wage for themselves and their 
children. They become highly dependent on 
25 
state benefits or earning low wages (Ibid). 
It should be noted, however, that while the ESRC report 
provides a useful empirical view of contemporary 
behaviour, it lacks the scope and vision of Beck's more 
holistic analysis. Thus while Beck recognises marital 
breakdown, he also emphasises that women and men 
continually remake their lives. Only a 'longitudinal' 
(as Beck would have it) analysis can reveal the 
'reflexive', often experimental character of personal 
biography: 
Each person lives through several family lives 
as well as non-familial forms of life, 
depending on the life phase, and for that very 
reason lives more and more his/her own 
biography. . . This biographical pluralism of forms of life i. e. the alternation between 
families, mixed with... other forms of living 
together or alone, is becoming 
the... 'norm'... (Beck, Op Cit, p. 115). 
One of the consequences of 'individualisation' is that 
class distinctions are less important: Behaviour is less 
'determined' by class. A better educated, more assertive 
proletariat is less willing to acquiesce to prescribed 
behaviour patterns. 
People no longer define themselves through class 
membership. Rather, they define themselves through 
personal politics, modes of living (often a considered 
articulation of personal politics), and patterns of 
consumption. It is 'lifestyle', not class, that 
underpins the contemporary social mosaic. Issues of 
class conflict no longer constitute the political motor 
of society. Rather, the atomised, individualised 
26 
citizens of the 1990s unite around issues of, for 
example, gender, race, sexuality, risk or environmental 
degradation. The multiplication of issues and 
accompanying lobbies generates a complex tapestry of 
interests, loyalties and agitprop. As Beck explains; 
It is possible to cheerfully embrace seemingly 
contradictory causes, for example, to join 
forces with local residents in protests 
against noise pollution by air traffic, to 
belong to the Metalworkers' Union, and yet - 
in the face of impending economic crisis - to 
vote conservative. Such coalitions represent 
pragmatic alliances in the individual struggle 
for existence (Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 101). 
Society has become highly complex. It is no longer 
possible to simply 'read off' attitudes from crude 
indicators like a subject's parentage, place of birth, 
schooling, occupation, place of residence or socio- 
economic status. The easy categorisations of class-based 
analyses are rendered useless by the 'messiness' of 
contemporary society. 
The dysfunctional 'boomerang effects' of contemporary 
technologies noted by Beck attract comment from both 
Giddens and the New Times authors. Giddens, for example, 
talks of 'techno- epidemics' - "Illnesses generated by 
technological influences, such as those producing 
pollution of air, water or food" (Giddens, A., Beyond 
Left and Right: The Future of Radical Politics, Polity 
Press, Britain, 1994, p. 78). For Giddens, modern 
technologies, such as nuclear and genetic technologies, 
expose us to 'high consequence risks'. Such novel risks 
"Are... particularly worrying, because we have little or 
27 
no way of 'testing them out'. We cannot learn from them 
and move on, because if things go wrong the results are 
likely to be cataclysmic" (Ibid p. 79). 
The New Times authors make the point that such risks 
serve to heighten suspicion of the meta-narratives of 
science and technology. According to Charlie Leadbeater, 
for example, people today are less convinced of the need 
to dominate nature through science. In the 1990s, the 
view is very much that needs should be met not by 
bending nature to our own anthropocentric ends, but 
rather by acting with nature, creating a powerful 
synergy of human and natural effort. As Leadbeater puts 
it, there is "A mounting doubt that progress is 
rationality's conquest of the irrational". Such doubt 
"Has contributed to the demise of planners and experts 
as special guardians of progress" (Hall, S., and 
Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 405). Progress, in short, no 
longer means 'the liquidation of unruliness', but rather 
the recognition that salvation lies in a symbiotic 
relationship between man and nature. This is a world not 
of Darwinian competition and conquest, but of 
cooperation and mutuality. (For Giddens, the changing 
relationship between mankind and nature heralds a new 
medievalism'. This is an epoch in which "[T]he 
Promethean outlook which so influenced Marx [is] more or 
less abandoned"; an epoch in which the resulting 
"Drawing-back from the ambitions of the Enlightenment" 
brings about a more sympathetic relationship with Mother 
Nature (Op Cit, p. 79)). 
on the question of risk awareness as a characteristic of 
28 
reflexive modernity, there seems to be a consensus that 
the Nineties person is more concerned about the 
'negative externalities' of growth than her/his 
ancestors. As Giddens puts it, "Defending the 
environment, rescuing nature, advocating green values - 
these notions have become commonplace" (Op Cit, p. 203). 
According to Fred Steward, such heightened environmental 
consciousness has given rise to demands for "A positive 
commitment to pre-empting indirect and subtle 
[environmental] threats" (Steward in Hall, S., and 
Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 68), rather than the post-hoc 
approach of so much contemporary legislation. 
There is also some evidence that capital itself is 
becoming more risk-conscious and environmentally 
conscientious. Witness, for example, the 'Responsible 
Care' programme of the petrochemicals sector, which aims 
"To reverse the chemical industry's worsening image by a 
combination of continuously improving environmental 
performance and a new responsiveness to public concerns" 
(Chemical Week (International Edition), July 7-14,1993, 
p. 16). Ironically, one of the best examples of 
'reflexive capital' is given by the US asbestos industry 
which, after years of indifference towards its workers, 
has finally made the connection between worker health 
and safety, and productivity (helped, no doubt, by 
tougher Federal legislation and a snowstorm of 
litigation against the industry). As one 'enlightened' 
asbestos industry executive put it: 
[P]eople rarely do their best work for an 
employer who neglects their welfare... Labour 
29 
relations, productivity, dust abatement, 
profitability, health and safety - it struck 
me that at some level these were all the same 
issue... 
I realised that key operating indicators 
like downtime, material usage, quality and 
productivity were as much a function of 
attitudes as they were of mechanics. I 
remembered what . 
I'd been told about 
recalcitrant unions, and I suddenly saw that 
we had the labour relations we deserved... 
As dust counts fell, so did our costs. 
We had probably made not a single change that 
someone hadn't thought of years earlier; the 
difference was that now we were actually 
making them. The plant's productivity rose. 
People seemed to care more than they did 
before (Sells, B., 'What Asbestos Taught Me 
About Managing Risk', Harvard Business Review, 
March-April, 1994, p. 79 and p. 82). 
In Britain, the New Times authors see the new 
environmental consciousness articulated in the Green 
movement, whose policies set the tone of the 'new 
medievalism': 
[For the Greens] the wholesomeness of air, 
food and water are more central than the size 
of the pay packet. The beauty of the 
environment overrides the growth in GNP. Job 
satisfaction and the fulfilment of mixing work 
and leisure to personal taste are considered 
more important than... full employment 
(Steward, F., 'Green Times' in Hall, S., and 
Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 69). 
For the New Times authors, a sense of 'imbalance' - of 
things being out of kilter - feeds support for the Green 
movement. People are concerned that a ruthless 
exploitation has knocked nature 'off centre', and that 
the economic prosperity of the Northern minority has 
been achieved at the expense of the Southern majority. 
(Greens refer to Southern peoples as living in the First 
World, in recognition of their numerical superiority 
over the wealthy minority in the North) . The 'new 
30 
medievalism' "Is reflected in disillusion with the 
dominant political philosophies, and in the various 
green and new age movements where there is a heavy 
emphasis on... the whole rather than the parts" (Mulgan, 
G., 'Uncertainty, Reversibility and Variety' in Hall, 
S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 381). According to 
Giddens, the new movements reflect a suspicion that 
"Modernity... has become experimental -a grand 
experiment with all our lives caught up in it... " (Op 
Cit, p. 215). 
Interest in ideas of balance and sustainable development 
is fostered by the media and in schools: 
(A] 11 the media - movies, television, music, 
radio - participate endlessly in this largely 
unorganised, subversive education in aesthetic 
awareness. So do the schools, in art and 
biology classes, in student outings, in films 
and recordings, which release young minds from 
an exclusive training in abstract... theories 
into the realm of concrete nature, complete 
and whole and mysterious (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., (Eds) The Earth Report, Mitchell 
Beazley Publishers, Britain, 1988 p. 19). 
According to 'green academics', the consequence of this 
increased aesthetic awareness is that Greens "Have 
changed the course of political discourse not only in 
their own countries but across the planet" (Goldsmith, 
E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 20). Across the planet, 
people have lost faith in 'the bulwarks of modernity' - 
science and technology. Indeed, "The devices that were 
meant as a protection against fear have become the main 
propagators of it". Consequently, "We are thrown into a 
world of anguish, a 'Risikogesellschaft'll (Achterhuis, 
31 
H., in Sejersted, F., and Moser, I., (Eds) Humanistic 
Perspectives on Technology, Development and Environment, 
Centre for Technology and Culture, TVM, Norway; 1992, 
p. 176). 
Concerning the proposition that class structures are 
being superseded by new, often transient, issue-centred 
social formations, Stuart Hall speaks of "Greater social 
fragmentation and pluralism", and "The weakening of 
older collective solidarities and block identities" 
(Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 119). As Martin 
Jacques puts it: 
Homogeneity and class have been supplanted by 
diversity and multi-identity. Look at a 
football crowd in the early 1950s: massive, 
male, working class and all wearing cloth 
caps. Now take a walk through any city centre, 
or saunter down a suburban street: we are 
confronted with a profusion of styles, 
ethnicities, identities. Society has become 
gloriously different. Order has given way to 
confusion. This is the pick-and-choose 
society. From food to holidays, from sport to 
fabrics, from sexual identity to clothes, we 
can choose like never before. This is the 
hypermarket society ('The End of Politics', 
The Sunday Times, July 18,1993). 
What Jacques overlooks here, however, is the fact that, 
to participate fully in the 'pick and choose' society, 
one needs money. Without it, one can do little more than 
bear witness to 'the good life'. As one impoverished 
citizen, a participant in a 1996 ethnographic study of 
the British 'underclass', put it; "When you're pushing 
the trolley around [the supermarket] and you see people 
pushing one that's almost full and yours isn't, I think 
'I wish I could just put what I wanted in and not have 
to worry', but I can't". Another spoke not of, as 
32 
Jacques would have it, 'choosing like never before', but 
of just surviving; "There's absolutely nothing I spend 
my money on except just surviving, you know, paying 
bills and buying food" (Kempson, E., 'Life on a Low 
Income', Findings 97, ' Joseph Rowntree Foundation, 
Britain, 1996, p. 2/4). (The degree to which poverty may 
prescribe - or proscribe - consumer and other choices 
will be examined in detail later). 
According to Stuart Hall, such dramatic social change as 
that described by Martin Jacques has brought about 'the 
revolution of the subject': 
The... individual subject has become more 
important, as collective social subjects - 
like that of class or nation or ethnic group - 
become more segmented and 'pluralised'... 
The 'self' is conceptualised as more 
fragmented and incomplete, composed of 
multiple 'selves' or identities in relation to 
the different social worlds we inhabit, 
something. .. 'produced', 
in process (Hall, S., 
and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 119). 
(Brian Wynne makes the same point in relation to public 
attitudes to risk. Thus Wynne believes that one's 
orientation to risk at a particular time is a reflection 
of the social network one inhabits. Different networks 
may produce different orientations to risk. As he puts 
it; "Alternative attitudes and beliefs (about risk] may 
be held by the same person, as functions of alternative 
social identities reflecting a complex existence within 
different social networks" (Wynne, B., 'Risk and Social 
Learning: Reification to Engagement' in Krimsky, S., and 
Golding, D., Social Theories of Risk, Praeger, US, 1992, 
p. 296)) 
` LIBRA " 
33 
In the 1990s, identities 'fall out, of different modes 
of living and patterns of consumption. The 'green- 
wellied, Range Rover driving urbanite family that 
sojourns in the country at weekends creates a certain 
identity for itself. The family that religiously 
migrates to Gran Canaria every summer to stay at Playa 
de las Americas where the bars show English football on 
satellite TV, creates a certain identity for itself. (It 
is also conceivable that in today's 'free form' society, 
the Barbour family might also holiday in Gran Canaria 
with its Eurosport channels and expensively imported 
Heinz Beans, although it is almost certain they would 
shun the multiplex apartments and Karaoke for a villa 
and pool). 
Identities can also change as the individual moves 
between different social milieux: Witness the 
transformation of the besuited City commodities dealer 
into just another leather-jacketed 'lad' when he attends 
Stamford Bridge on a Saturday, or joins the Chelsea ICF 
(Inter City Firm) for an away tie, when football may 
come a poor second to violence. 
To summarise, identities are no longer forged in the 
cauldron of shared social and/or economic interests. 
Today, you are what you buy. Today, you are what you do. 
(Or, more accurately, you are what you can afford to buy 
and do). As Giddens puts it: 
(In late modernity] the self becomes a 
reflexive project... Individuals cannot rest 
content with an identity that is simply handed 
down, inherited, or built on a traditional 
34 
status. A person's identity has in large part 
to be discovered, constructed, actively 
sustained... (Op Cit p. 82). 
As stated above, however, it is important not to be 
overwhelmed by such elegant discourses on late 
modernity, for there remain powerful countervailing 
forces to personal reflexivity. These include a lack of 
personal confidence, imagination or ambition, inherited 
responsibilities, insufficient funds to indulge one's 
consumerist fantasies, or an oppressive social 
environment. As Giddens reminds us; "Traditional 
communities can be, and normally have been, oppressive. 
Community in the form of mechanical solidarity crushes 
individual autonomy and exerts a compelling pressure 
towards conformism" (Op Cit, p. 126). 
2.3 Back on the 'Unpicking' of Science. 
2.3.1 Introduction. 
Beck's expose of the changing status and novel 
applications of science in late modernity is highly 
relevant to the Fulham Power Station debate, where a 
questioning of 'official' science and consequent 
development of an alternative scientific discourse 
marked a shift (at a micro level, of course) from a 
'primary scientization' to a 'reflexive scientization'. 
2.3.2 Science as Discourse. 
The new reflexive modernity questions not only the 
fabric of society, or as Beck puts it, ' work, leisure, 
35 
the family and sexuality', but also its very foundation 
- science. As he puts it, "Modernisation within the 
paths of industrial society is being replaced by a 
modernisation of the principles of industrial society" 
(Op Cit, p. 10). The intellectual foundation of modern 
science, methodical scepticism, is being turned against 
science itself. The resulting critique, often produced 
by scientists, reveals science to be merely another 
'grand narrative', as contingent as any other. 
According to Beck, science has passed through two 
distinct phases. During 'primary scientization', 
science, promising "Liberation from constraints not yet 
understood" (Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 155), was applied to 
nature in what can only be described as an 'act of 
faith'. While dramatic gains, such as a hugely augmented 
energy supply, were achieved, as Descartes reminds us, 
Homo Faber knew (or cared) little about the possible 
negative effects on nature. During 'reflexive 
scientization' - the current phase - concern is focused 
on "The inherent foundations and external consequences 
of science itself". In this more mature phase, "Its 
claim to truth and its claim to enlightenment are 
demystified" (Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 155). 
'Reflexive scientization' has revealed science to be no 
less contingent, no less a social construct, than any of 
the other grand narratives of the modern era. A 
consideration of the 'scientific paradigm' serves to 
illustrate the hand of man in science. 
In his book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 
36 
Thomas Kuhn illuminated the power and pervasiveness of 
the ' paradigm' .A paradigm 
is a powerful and self - 
sustaining set of beliefs and practices that underpins a 
particular scientific theory. In ancient times, for 
example, it was believed that the earth was at the 
centre of the solar system, and that the sun and all the 
planets revolved around it. Elaborate theories were 
developed to sustain this particular astronomical view. 
When observations began to contradict the theory, new 
'evidence' was produced to sustain the original model. 
Eventually, the new theory, which placed the sun at the 
centre of the solar system, gained sufficient support to 
overturn the old. The Earth-as-hub paradigm had been 
broken under the combined weight of new observations and 
its own internal contradictions. The old science had 
been shown to be 'bad'. 
The 'contingency' of science is also manifest in the way 
in which 'scientific standards' are established for 
exposure to carcinogens and other dangerous substances. 
According to Beck, 'hazards' are not evaluated in some 
objective/rational fashion by disinterested scientists. 
Rather, "They are defined and evaluated socially - in 
the mass media, in the experts' debate, in the jungle of 
interpretations and jurisdictions, in courts or with 
strategic-intellectual dodges, in a milieu and in 
contexts... " (Beck, U., 'From Industrial Society to the 
Risk Society: Questions of Survival, Social Structure 
and Ecological Enlightenment' in Featherstone, M., (Ed) 
Cultural Theory and Cultural Change, Sage, Britain, 
1992, p. 112). For example, while scientists may 
37 
demonstrate high levels of atmospheric lead to be 
injurious to health, the evidence, when presented, is 
socially mediated. Thus, in Germany, the body 
responsible for managing the lead issue, the Council of 
Experts on Environmental Issues, asserts that 'The 
exposure of the population to lead is not dangerous on 
average'. By putting the 'raw' science of lead poisoning 
into a wider statistical frame, the science has been 
transformed. A new 'statistical' science of lead 
poisoning is created that implies the population is 
safe. But, as Beck explains, "Perhaps there are groups 
and living conditions for which the levels of 
lead.. 
. that are on average 
harmless' constitute a 
mortal danger" (Beck, U., Risk Society, Sage, Britain, 
1992, p. 25). In other words, those who live near major 
roads are inevitably at greater risk from lead emissions 
than those who live in open countryside. Children, too, 
are at greater risk due to their lesser body weight and 
still-developing organs. Such 'socially unequal risk 
positions', as Beck calls them, are rendered invisible 
in the new, statistically mediated, 'hybrid' science of 
lead poisoning. 
The contingency of science is especially obvious in the 
matter of establishing the cause of a particular hazard. 
For example, if the proof required to show a link 
between a substance and an undesirable event is that a 
connection must be shown to exist 'beyond all reasonable 
doubt', few substances will be (scientifically) 
recognised as hazardous. If, on the other hand, the 
proof required is that 'on balance of probabilities' a 
38 
link exists between a substance and an undesirable 
event, more substances will be scientifically recognised 
as hazardous. Thus, different proofs produce different 
levels of hazard, or, to put it another way, each 
toxicological proof produces a different science of 
toxicology. 
Given the many thousands of chemicals in use today, and 
given that chemicals can act synergistically or 
antagonistically, it is very difficult to link a 
specific undesirable event, such as sterility, with a 
specific chemical. The task becomes almost impossible if 
the link has to be proved 'beyond all reasonable doubt'. 
Hazards, therefore, are not a scientific 'given'. 
Rather, they are constructed in a milieu and in 
contexts'. Hazards are, in one sense, ideological 
products. (This has been shown in the case of the 
general environmental threat posed by asbestos. Until 
the 1995 High Court judgement that those living in 
proximity to asbestos factories could claim compensation 
for asbestos-related disease, asbestos hazard did not 
(legally) exist outside the walls of asbestos factories. 
It still remains for the courts to judge that asbestos 
hazard can also exist outside the walls of shipyards and 
other premises that use significant quantities of 
asbestos (The Guardian, October 28,1995, p. 2)). 
In Beck's view, the more rigorous the proof, the more 
society is endangered. Scientists build their 
reputations on the strength and rigour of their 
methodical scepticism: The more intense and 
uncompromising the scepticism, the greater the kudos 
39 
achieved by the scientist. But the scientist's 
(personal) gain is the public's loss: 
By turning up the standard of scientific 
accuracy, the circle of recognised risks 
justifying action is minimised, and 
consequently, scientific licence implicitly 
granted for ' the multiplication of 
risks... [I]nsisting on the purity of the 
scientific analysis leads to the pollution and 
contamination of air, foodstuffs, water, soil, 
plants, animals and people (Beck, U., Risk 
Society, Sage, Britain, 1992, p. 62). 
When members of the public take issue with excessively 
rigorous proofs, scientists accuse them of 
'irresponsibility'. When the level of 'perceived risk' 
exceeds the level of 'scientifically determined risk', 
the public is considered to be acting 'irrationally'. In 
short, the distance between the scientist's risk 
assessment and that of the public is, de facto, the 
measure of irrationality and social irresponsibility. 
But as Beck points out, the public does not have a 
monopoly on 'irrationality'. In science, the answer to 
the question 'How safe is safe enough? ' is invariably 
'Safe enough is what we make it': Safe enough is what 
can be afforded (or as the UK's Health and Safety 
Executive (HSE) puts it, what is 'reasonably 
practicable') or what current technology enables us to 
achieve. 
Some, like Beck, argue that this 'self referential' 
quality of science is hardly a 'rational' approach to 
standard setting. Beck uses the example of the German 
Atomic Energy Act to demonstrate the potentially 
introspective and reflexive character of scientific 
40 
standard setting: 
If one asks, for instance, what level of 
exposure to artificially produced 
radioactivity must be tolerated by the 
populace. . . the Atomic Energy Act gives the 
general answer that the necessary precautions 
are to correspond to 'the state of technology' 
(Beck, U. 'From'Industrial Society to the Risk 
Society: Questions of Survival, Social 
Structure and Ecological. Enlightenment' in 
Featherstone, M., Op Cit, p. 107). 
Beck, therefore, takes issue with what he sees as the 
technological determinism of standard setting within the 
German nuclear industry. But the matter can also be 
looked at another way: By insisting that 'the necessary 
precautions correspond to the state of technology', the 
nuclear industry is being as safety conscious as it 
possibly can. It is saying that safety measures should 
never fall behind the level of knowledge pertaining at 
any one time. It could be argued that this is a more 
demanding approach than that of the HSE, which requires 
only that safety precautions be 'reasonably 
practicable'. The economically mediated character of 
official industrial safety standards in the UK is 
enshrined in the Executive's directive that safety 
precautions should correspond to the 'best available 
technology not entailing excessive cost' (BATNEEC) ('The 
Health and Safety System in Great Britain', HSE/HMSO, 
Britain, 1992, p. 12). 
A good example of the contingent, socially constructed 
character of scientific standards is given by the 
manipulation of radiation exposure limits in the wake of 
the Chernobyl nuclear accident of 1986. Until March 1, 
41 
1987, the European Commission's upper limit for caesium 
contamination of foodstuffs was 600 becquerels per 
kilogram. In Britain, which, like a number of other 
European countries, had been seriously affected by 
Caesium fallout from the explosion, the limit was set at 
1,000 becquerels per kilo. The European Commission (EC) 
soon realised that, in light of the degree and 
persistence of caesium contamination across Europe, its 
prescribed upper limit was economically impractical 
(irrational? ). Quite simply, too much food was having to 
be discarded as unfit for human consumption. 
Consequently, in November 1987, the EC, anticipating 
another Chernobyl-type accident, increased the ban level 
to 1,250 becquerels per kilogram of food product 
(despite a request from Britain and France that this 
level should be set at 4,500 becquerels per kilo) 
(Bunyard, P., 'Nuclear Energy After Chernobyl' in 
Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 38). (Of 
course, given the non-reflexivity of most science, such 
an assumption was never made explicit). So, the answer 
to the question 'How much caesium exposure is safe? ' 
would appear to be - following Beck's somewhat cynical 
assessment of standard setting - 'A 'safe' level is what 
we can expect to achieve in the event of another 
Chernobyl'. (The question of reducing the risk by 
winding down nuclear programmes never arose due to the 
perceived 'technological imperative' of nuclear power). 
The 'self-referential' and heterogeneous character of 
science means that it is remarkably resilient. This 
resilience is shown in the manner in which science dealt 
42 
with the ozone scare in the 1980s: Science, having given 
us ozone depleting gases like chloro-fluorocarbons 
(CFCs), then 'ate itself' by developing sensors capable 
of measuring the thickness of the Earth's ozone layer. A 
number of holes were found that were largely attributed 
to CFCs. As a result of this discovery, funds were made 
available to science for the development of 'safe' 
substitutes for CFC gases. In time, a heterogeneous and 
elastic science redeemed itself by developing 'safer' 
HCFC gases, and by 'comparing the risks of CFCs out of 
existence'. In short, scientists, by doing more science 
(both natural and statistical), saved themselves and 
their art. 
The self-refutation and subsequent re-making of science 
can be highly profitable for those engaged in supplying 
its raw materials. For example, the same chemicals 
companies that produce the many thousands of inorganic 
chemicals in use today, many of which are suspected 
carcinogens, also produce the chemicals used, for 
example, in chemotherapy. The same nuclear industry that 
showers Europe with caesium also produces the nuclear 
components for radiation-measuring devices. The same 
companies that refine crude oil also produce the 
chemical dispersants used to tackle oil spills. Within 
this self-sustaining universe of hazard and remedy "The 
industrial system profits from the abuses it produces". 
Indeed, "The economy becomes self-referential, 
independent of its context of satisfying human needs" 
(Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 56). In a world of poisoning and 
antidotes, consumer needs and wants are largely 
43 
irrelevant. As Beck puts it "Developed industrial 
society 'nourishes' itself from the hazards it produces" 
[My emphases] (Beck, U., Op Cit, p. 57). 
Like Beck, Giddens recognises late modernity's 
'demystification' of science and exploration of 
alternative rationalities: in contemporary society, 
therefore, "The findings of science are interrogated, 
criticised, made use of in common with other reflexively 
available sources of knowledge" [My emphasis] (Op Cit, 
p. 216) . However, 
despite the birth of 'reflexive 
scientization', in certain situations science is still 
seen as an authoritative and potentially useful source 
of knowledge. After all, it was satellite technology 
that helped 'reveal' the ozone hole. Like Beck, Giddens 
notes the ironies implicit in a simultaneously lethal 
and healing science: 
When risk is still seen as external risk, 
science may continue to offer a sense of 
security, even of certainty, to lay 
individuals (and political officials) .. science 
and technology are the only means of bringing 
their own damage into view (Op Cit, p. 208). 
Science, then, is 'Janus-faced' (Irwin, 1995): a source 
of threat and security. 
Unfortunately, this is where both Beck and Giddens 
terminate their analysis of science: Science, although 
it may be used for either 'good' or 'evil', is an 
inherently 'neutral' collection of 'facts'. Such an 
externalist account, however, ignores the potential 
'interestedness' of science (Irwin, 1995). That is, it 
44 
ignores the fact that, as a cultural artefact, science 
is as much a product of social, economic and/or 
political interests as any other form of human 
knowledge; as any other 'way of knowing'. As we saw in 
the case of post-Chernobyl caesium contamination, 
science may be subject to political and economic 
calculation. Thus, during the crisis, different economic 
imperatives produced different contamination sciences. 
For example, Britain, heavily contaminated by fallout, 
considered an upper limit of 4,500 becquerels to be a 
'safe' limit. The European Community, perhaps suspicious 
of Britain's motives, set a lower limit. Looking at 
Britain's caesium contamination science from a 'social 
interest' perspective, it could be said that it was 
little more than 'politics by other means'. That is, "A 
weapon used to further economic and political interests 
in a somewhat covert manner" (Irwin, A., Citizen 
Science, Routledge, Britain, 1995, p. 49). 
It should be noted that the 'social interest' 
perspective on science is not the sole prerogative of 
sociologists. As Irwin discovered in his research into 
the public perception of risk at a major hazard site in 
Greater Manchester, the public, too, is aware of the 
potential 'interestedness' of science. Thus, while 65% 
of interviewees considered 'local community groups' to 
be either a trustworthy or very trustworthy source of 
'information or advice about the local chemical 
industry', only 27% considered the chemical companies 
themselves to be either a trustworthy or very 
trustworthy source of advice (Ibid, p. 96). It was felt 
45 
that information produced by the companies might be 
tainted by commercial interests. i. e. that 'commercial' 
science would be subject to 'social negotiation'. (Of 
course, there is no reason to believe that the science 
produced by an environmental group would be any less 
subject to social negotiation) Science, then, far from 
being "Homogeneous, cleanly bounded and 
consensual... value-free and objective" (Irwin, Op Cit, 
p. 47), may be rent by internal division and dissent (due 
to its paradigmatic organisation) and/or co-opted by 
those who fund or regulate it. 
Doubts about the 'trustworthiness' of government and/or 
commercial science need to be seen in the context of an 
apparent crisis of public confidence in the 
environmentally exploitative 'Postwar Settlement'. 
Focusing on the British experience of late modernity, 
the New Times authors contrast the modernist Postwar 
Settlement with the rise of the radical ecology and 
environmental movements of the 1970s. The Postwar 
Settlement consisted of a number of broad policy 
objectives, common to both Labour and Conservative 
governments, that were pursued in the aftermath of the 
Second World War. Amongst these various 'Butskellite' 
objectives was a belief in the primacy of production and 
wealth generation over environmental conservation. 
Science and technology were at the heart of this 
Cartesian view of England's green and pleasant land: 
[During the post-war period] ... the enormous development of industry, technology and modern 
cities rested upon an implicit, exploitative 
environmental settlement. It was embedded in 
46 
the industrialism of the big factory... and in 
the pollution from cars, power stations and 
chemical plants (Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op 
Cit, p. 27). 
The exploitative 'environmental settlement' continued 
until the 1970s, when "The prevailing 'industrialism' of 
both Right and Left" (Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, 
p. 70) encountered a new, radical environmentalism. 
During this period public opinion research revealed a 
developing environmental consciousness amongst the 
British public, with events like the Chernobyl accident 
highlighting the 'manufactured uncertainty' and 'high 
consequence risk' of the essentially exploitative post- 
war environmental settlement. There were disparities, 
however, between public opinion - as revealed by polls - 
and behaviour. Thus, while the percentage of the British 
population opposed to nuclear power rose from 65% to 83% 
in the aftermath of Chernobyl (Bunyard, Op Cit, p. 46), 
the British public elected pro-civil nuclear power 
Conservative governments throughout the 1980s and early 
1990s. In March 1987, for example, only eleven months 
after Chernobyl, a Conservative government gave the 
Central Electricity Generating Board permission to order 
a pressurised water reactor at Sizewell. Despite this, 
the Conservatives were re-elected in June of the same 
year by 'an 83% anti-nuclear power' British public. It 
may well be, therefore, that the British public's 
fascination with Homo Faber is far from over, and that 
the 'socialist' view of the natural world as "An object 
for mankind, purely a matter of utility" (Giddens, Op 
Cit, p. 199) prevails. (It might also be the case that 
47 
the increasing conservatism of the Labour Party meant 
that the public had no real choice at the general 
election. Unable to express an anti-nuclear vote, it 
merely gave up and voted on other issues, like 
taxation). 
2.4 Beck on the end of the Other'. 
2.4.1 Introduction. 
Beck's 'end of the Other' thesis has two main strands. 
Firstly, Beck asserts that certain technological 
hazards, like DDT or global warming, affect all (more or 
less) equally. And secondly, he asserts that such 
'democratic' risks and hazards will tend to unify at 
risk' communities. 
Given the above, Beck's 'end of the Other' thesis 
provides an interesting way of looking at the likely 
socio-political consequences of an asbestos release from 
Fulham Power Station. 
In Fulham, fugitive emissions of asbestos did, within 
the geographical confines of the study area, affect all 
more or less equally. Despite this, however, only a very 
small number of residents became active: the community 
conspicuously failed to mobilise en masse. 
There may have been several reasons for the community's 
limited overt response. For example, the 'hazard' may 
have been perceived differently by different people. 
Some might not have seen it as a hazard at all. Others 
might have been preoccupied with social hazards, like 
48 
low incomes, poor housing or crime. Also, those able to 
spend time out of the area, either by working or 
weekending away, might have felt themselves to be at 
less risk. (The capacity for 'risk avoidance' may 
reflect socio-economic status). 
Thus, Beck's 'end of the Other' thesis fails to engage 
with the possibility that different people may look at 
the same phenomenon in different ways. That is, he fails 
adequately to explore the 'subjectivity' of human 
perception and experience: 
To try to understand the experience of another 
it is necessary to dismantle the world as seen 
from one's own place within it, and to re- 
assemble it as seen from his. For example, to 
understand a given choice another makes, one 
must face in imagination the lack of choices 
which may confront and deny him... The world 
has to be dismantled and reassembled in order 
to grasp. . the experience of another 
[My 
emphasis] (Berger and Mohr in Irwin, Op Cit, 
p. 81). 
It may be that the inactivity of the majority of Sands 
End residents reflected, in part at least, the lack of 
choices they faced in their social and economic lives. 
As Kempson (1996) reveals, the only real choice 
available to the poor is "Between cutting back on 
essentials [food, clothing, heating etc. ] or falling 
into debt". Today, 25% of the British population "Live 
in homes with less than half the average disposable 
income" (Op Cit). (The question of how socio-economic 
factors might inhibit personal choice and action is 
explored in detail in subsequent chapters). 
To return to Beck's 'end of the Other' thesis, however, 
49 
although the risks and hazards of late-modernity may not 
always unite '[F]riend and foe.. . city and country' 
(Beck, U., in Featherstone, M., Op Cit, p. 109), it 
cannot be denied that they do exist. 
2.4.2 Ubiquitous Hazard. 
The Risk Society, Beck explains, is a 'world risk 
society'. The risks inherent in modern technologies 
generate truly global hazards. CFC gases, for example, 
affect ozone levels across the globe. Every adult has 
traces of DDT in her/his body. Nuclear fallout from 
atomic tests circles the globe. Neither wealth nor 
position secure refuge from such ubiquitous hazards: 
The 'end of the Other', the end of all our 
carefully cultivated opportunities for 
distancing ourselves, is what we have become 
able to experience with the advent of nuclear 
and chemical contamination. Misery can be 
marginalised, but that is no longer true of 
hazards in the age of nuclear, chemical and 
genetic technology (Ibid, p. 109). 
Modern hazards cross not only spatial, but temporal 
boundaries too. The possible hazards of genetic 
engineering, for example, may not become apparent for 
generations. Current 'safe' radiation exposure limits 
may cause increased rates of cancer in twenty or thirty 
years time. (See discussion on EU radiation exposure 
standards, above). Long term epidemiological analysis 
may, at some future date, show fluoride in drinking 
water to be hazardous to health. According to Beck, 
because of the advent of 'supra-national and non-class 
specific hazards', "The gain in power from techno- 
50 
economic 'progress' is being increasingly overshadowed 
by the production of risks" (Risk Society, p. 13). 
According to Beck, in the 'global risk society', 
personal 'risk positions'. are not dependent upon 'class 
positions'. That is, the new environmental politics is 
not particular to a specific social class or stratum. 
The 'end of the other' sees to that. Rather, in the Risk 
Society, class positions are subsumed into 'global risk 
positions'. The resulting environmental politics may 
render class politics obsolete: 
[T] he risk society (in contrast to class 
society) develops a tendency to unify... 
[F]riend and foe, east and west, above and 
below, city and country, south and north are 
all exposed to the levelling pressure of the 
exponentially increasing risks of 
civilisation. Risk societies... contain within 
themselves a grass-roots development dynamics 
that destroys boundaries... (Beck, U. (1992) 
Risk Society (Britain: Sage) p. 47). 
A good example of the capacity of risk issues to unite 
is given by the debate surrounding the Wackersdorf 
reprocessing plant in Germany. As nuclear hazards are 
potentially 'trans-boundary' hazards, and as Wackersdorf 
is near the Austrian border, Austrians have crossed into 
Germany in their thousands to unite with their Bavarian 
neighbours in a common 'risk position' on Wackersdorf. 
Indeed, so strong have been the 'unifying tendencies' of 
the 'shared risk position' that the Bavarian state 
government has, at certain times, closed the border with 
Austria. 
While 'the end of the Other' is an important observation 
51 
on the distribution of risks in contemporary society, 
Beck himself acknowledges that the theory does have 
certain 'blind spots'. Thus, the old 'law' that people 
from different classes occupy unequal 'risk positions' 
"Still applies today to some central dimensions of risk" 
(Beck, U., Risk Society, p. 35). For example, those who 
work in close proximity to hazards, such as process 
workers in chemicals factories or nuclear installations, 
by definition occupy unequal risk positions (See, for 
example, Halle, D., America's Working Man, University of 
Chicago Press, 1984). Also, those who live in the poorer 
housing close to potentially hazardous installations 
(usually the workers themselves), occupy unequal risk 
positions. Such unequal risk positions can be 
exacerbated by class-determined inequalities such as the 
inequitable distribution of income or educational 
opportunities: Those who occupy the higher social strata 
will generally have sufficient income to escape city 
smog at weekends, or to decant to the country for 
vacations. Such people will also have the educational 
skills to understand complex 'risk avoidance' diets: 
Education and attentiveness to information 
open up new possibilities of dealing with and 
avoiding risks... through sophisticated 
nutritional techniques so that the heavy 
metals in North Sea fish are. . . neutralised 
by 
the toxic chemicals in pork or tea (Beck, U., 
Risk Society, p. 35). 
While it could be said that Beck contradicts his theory 
of the end of the Other' with qualifications like those 
given above, what he is trying to say is that within the 
'global Risk Society' there exist new inequalities. For 
52 
example, while every human being may indeed have traces 
of DDT in her/his body, in Sri Lanka, as a German 
development expert has reported, "They spread DDT around 
with bare hands... the people are powdered white" (Beck, 
U., Risk Society, p. 42).. At Villa Parisi in Brazil - 
, the dirtiest chemical town in the world' - "Most of the 
children have asthma, bronchitis, diseases of the nose 
and throat, and skin rashes" (Ibid, p. 43). So while 
people in Britain are right to be concerned about the 
increasing prevalence of asthma, within this 'global 
risk position' there are dramatic differences in rates 
of affliction. These differences are caused by the 
export of the most highly toxic industries to those 
countries, usually in the Third World, with the most lax 
environmental legislation (See, for example, Weir, D., 
The Bhopal Syndrome, Earthscan, Britain, 1988). Given 
the extreme poverty of much of the Third World, such 
exports are rarely questioned. As Beck puts it, "On the 
international scale it is emphatically true that 
material misery and blindness to hazards coincide" (Risk 
Society, p. 41). 
In conclusion, while risks are omnipresent, they are 
unevenly distributed. We may all suffer today - but some 
suffer more than others. 
Beck's 'end of the Other' thesis is supported by the New 
Times authors (albeit with a slightly different 
interpretation of 'globalisation'). Thus, the 
globalisation of risk and hazard is explained in terms 
of the spatial diffusion of northern industries and 
products like aerosols and automobiles. Hazards are also 
53 
temporally diffused. Radioactive contamination, 
deforestation and the over-exploitation of fish stocks, 
for example, could have dramatic consequences for future 
generations. As a result of this breaching of spatial 
and temporal barriers to risk and hazard, "Human 
capacity to affect the planetary environment appears to 
have reached a new level" (Steward, F., in Hall, S., and 
Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 67). Giddens takes this view a 
stage further by talking of 'the end of nature': 
[N]ature has been embraced only at the point 
of its disappearance. We live today in a 
remoulded nature devoid of nature. . . The 
ecological crisis is a crisis brought about by 
the dissolution of nature... [My emphasis] (Op 
Cit p. 206) 
For Giddens, novel 'high consequence risks' are both 
constitutive and symptomatic of late modernity. Such 
risks "Are in a category of their own... in terms of 
their sheer scale. Scale undeniably gives such dangers a 
peculiar phenomenology. Remote from everyone and 
apparently wholly unaffected by anything individuals may 
do, such risks none the less impinge on people's 
consciousness more universally than other threats simply 
because there is no escape from them" (Op Cit, p. 219). 
While few doubt that high consequence risks exist (who 
could after Chernobyl? ), there is some debate as to what 
effect - if any - they may have on the public's 
perception of science. While some attribute disaffection 
with science (partly) to such novel phenomena, others, 
like Hans Achterhuis, attribute it more to a loss of 
faith in science-as-narrative. As Achterhuis puts it: 
54 
In the contestations of the sixties, progress 
and growth became suspect. . .1 think it is fair to state that this change in hopes and fears 
is due not so much to increased risks. . . as to the bankruptcy of the faith in progress by way 
of science and technology (Achterhuis, H., in 
Sejersted, F., and Moser, I., (Eds) Humanistic 
Perspectives on Technology, Development and 
Environment, Centre for Technology and 
Culture, TVM, Norway, 1992, p. 184). 
Giddens attributes the loss of faith in science to its 
'fundamentalist' or 'non-dialogic' character. Thus, in 
an increasingly 'post-traditional' and reflexive epoch, 
trust no longer accrues naturally to social, economic 
and political institutions. Rather, the decline of 
deference means that trust must be produced. The 
resulting novel form Giddens calls 'active trust' (Op 
Cit, p. 129). Active trust is sustained through openness, 
mutual respect and the 'positive appreciation of 
difference' (Op Cit, p. 130). Because active trust 
"Presumes visibility and responsibility on both sides" 
(Op Cit, p. 129), it follows that the greater the 
reticence of scientists and technologists, the less they 
will be trusted in their work. 
2.5 Beck on the Techno-Bureaucratic Control of Hazard. 
2.5.1 Introduction. 
Beck's expose of the 'Jekyll and Hyde' character of 
science helps us to understand the evolving scientific 
discourses of the Fulham Power Station debate. The 
debate centred around asbestos, once considered a 
brilliant example of beneficent techno-scientific 
55 
progress. It was science, however, that demonstrated the 
hazards of 'the wonder mineral'. Unfortunately, having 
'discharged us into illness', science conspicuously 
failed to come up with a cure for such evils as 
asbestosis and mesothelioma. 
Beck's discourse on the bureaucratic control of hazard 
is also relevant to the Fulham debate - if only because 
the demolition contradicts Beck's assertion that such 
'conventional' hazards are accommodated within existing 
safety and insurance legislation. Thus, at the time of 
the demolition there was no general environmental 
exposure limit for asbestos dust. (There is a case, 
however, for arguing that the temporal nature of 
asbestos hazard (asbestos-attributable disease can take 
decades to appear) would place it outside the scope of 
conventional techno-bureaucratic hazard controls from 
the outset). 
2.5.2 Schizophrenic Science? 
In the context of the Risk Society, science is a double- 
edged sword. On the one hand science is the villain. 
Science generates hazards. Consequently, science is the 
motor of the Risk Society. 
But science can also perform an heroic role, by 
detecting and neutralising hazards. The ability to 
detect becomes increasingly important as the number of 
'invisible' hazards multiplies. Only science can sense 
and quantify hazards invisible to man. As Beck explains, 
"The focus is more and more on hazards which are neither 
56 
visible nor perceptible... [H]azards... require the 
'sensory organs' of science... in order to become visible 
or interpretable as hazards at all" (Risk Society, 
p. 27). 
While science may be the root of the 'solution' to the 
Risk Society, it should, says Beck, be under the 
direction not of scientists but of the 'general will'. 
Only a science thus directed will be a science primarily 
concerned with the detection and 
amelioration/elimination of hazard. Thus, moving beyond 
the Risk Society necessitates a new relationship between 
science and the general public - in which each side 
respects and responds to the other. Beck summarises this 
ideal-type relationship as follows: 
[S]cientific rationality without social 
rationality remains empty, but social 
rationality without scientific rationality 
remains blind (Risk Society, p. 30). 
While science is essential for the identification of 
hazards, Beck points out that the ability of science to 
sense hazards is outstripping its ability to remedy 
them. In medical science, for example, there is a 
'divergence of diagnostic therapy': 
[I)llnesses... can be diagnosed thanks to the 
more acute medical and technical sensory 
system, without the presence or even the 
prospect of any effective measures to treat 
them (Beck, U., Risk Society, p. 204). 
Because of a rampant diagnostic science, ever increasing 
numbers of people are being 'discharged into illness' 
with little prospect of being cured. This has not passed 
57 
without comment. Witness, for example, the 1995 debate 
over appropriate levels of funding for breast cancer 
screening in relation to the development of better 
treatments. While the accepted view in Britain was that 
mass screening was an'effective weapon in the fight 
against cancer, questions were raised as to whether the 
£27 million spent each year on screening could be better 
spent on developing more effective drugs and hormonal 
treatments. As one disaffected practitioner put it, "I 
want to question the cost effectiveness of the programme 
and to suggest that... it would be better value for money 
to invest in improving treatment rather than improving 
screening" (Hunt, L., 'Cancer Specialists Question Value 
of Breast Screening', The Independent, September 5, 
1995). Paradoxically, by discharging us into illness, 
doctors may succeed in increasing public pressure for 
investment in medical science. After all, if you are 
told you have X disease, Y allergy or Z psychosis, you 
are likely to demand action. This may be no bad thing, 
provided scientists use the money to find cures. If the 
money is simply used to identify other diseases, science 
may become self-referential. That is, science, by 
identifying (untreatable? ) illnesses, will continue to 
attract research monies even if no-one is cured. 
In the Risk Society, hazards are not only regulated by 
means of technology, but also by means of bureaucratic 
controls. According to Beck, contemporary society is 
shaped not by past events, but by planning for events 
that have yet to happen. That is, the bureaucratic 
structures, policies and laws of the Risk Society are 
58 
shaped not by 'conditions transmitted from the past', 
but by considerations of possible future catastrophes: 
In the Risk Society... something non-existent, 
invented, fictive (is] the 'cause' of current 
experience and action. We become active today 
in order to prevent ... the problems and crises 
of tomorrow (Beck, U., Risk Society, p. 34). 
This 'terror of the future' leads to the development of 
a "Norm system of rules for social accountability, 
compensation and precautions" (Beck, U., in 
Featherstone, M., Op Cit, p. 100). The rules reside in, 
and are applied by various statutory and non-statutory 
bodies. The resulting "Social compact against 
industrially produced hazards and damages" (Ibid, p. 100) 
exists both to manage latent risks and contain the 
effects of an accident, when risks translate into 
hazards. The various management and containment 
mechanisms as they apply in Britain for industrially 
produced risks and hazards are described in Appendix 1. 
It should be noted, however, that while the mechanisms 
shown in Appendix 1 may be adequate for the management 
of conventional risks/hazards, there is concern that 
they are ineffective where contemporary 'mega- 
technologies' (Beck's neologism) are concerned. Such 
technologies might include nuclear power and genetic 
engineering, where accidents may have both spatial and 
temporal dimensions. As Beck puts it: 
If a fire breaks out, the fire brigade comes; 
if a traffic accident occurs, the insurance 
pays. This interplay between beforehand and 
afterwards... has been revoked in the age of 
nuclear, chemical and genetic 
59 
technology... [N]uclear power plants have 
suspended the principle of insurance ... (Ibid, 
P. 101) 
In the case of a technology where the consequences of an 
accident exceed the containment capacity of conventional 
techno-bureaucratic controls, the authorities take the 
only avenue left open to them: They seek to convince the 
public that the technology is infallible. Thus is born 
"The dogma of technological infallibility" for which 
"The queen of error, science, becomes the guardian" 
(Ibid, p . 101) . 
It was in the aftermath of the Chernobyl nuclear 
accident that the nuclear industry's 'dogma of 
technological infallibility' reached its apogee. Western 
experts, assuming the Soviet reactor not to have had a 
containment vessel, asserted that an accident like that 
at Chernobyl could not possibly occur here in the West, 
as all our reactors had adequate containment. The CEGB 
propagated this dogma with a video entitled 'It Can't 
Happen Here'. However, in promoting this line, the 
experts chose to ignore three awkward facts. Firstly, 
the Soviet reactor did have a containment vessel; it was 
simply blown apart by the force of the explosion within 
the reactor. Secondly, the British Magnox reactors have 
been "Criticised for having inadequate, or no, secondary 
containment". And thirdly, the ageing Magnox reactors 
are said to suffer 'serious' corrosion problems 
(Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 175). 
Lord Marshall, Chairman of the Central Electricity 
Generating Board, sought to bolster the British position 
60 
by asserting, as the Earth Report puts it, that "Such an 
accident was highly improbable in the West because 
reactor designs such as the RBMK would never receive a 
licence" (Bunyard, P., Op Cit, p. 42). This was a 
desperate tactic. Marshall was ignoring the design 
weaknesses in his own Magnox reactor technology while 
highlighting the presumed weaknesses of Soviet nuclear 
engineering. It was eventually revealed that the 
Chernobyl accident was caused primarily by unrealistic 
work schedules that compromised procedure (Medvedev, 
Z. A., The Legacy of Chernobyl, Blackwell, 1990). 
The diagram reproduced in Appendix 2 explains the 'dogma 
of technological infallibility' in more detail: In the 
most optimistic scenario (curve A), it would appear 
that, although under control for some time, the risks 
inherent in nuclear technology have now exceeded our 
'techno-bureaucratic' controls. The 'dogma of 
technological infallibility' is born at the time the 
'worst imaginable accident' (WIA) exceeds our capacity 
to control it. However, taking the most pessimistic view 
(line B), it is shown that the risks inherent in nuclear 
technology have always exceeded our controls. In this 
scenario, the worst imaginable accident has been beyond 
our control since the inception of the 'Atoms for Peace' 
programme. 
Like Beck, Giddens also talks about the need to make 
science more transparent and democratic. Only through 
dialogue, "In which active trust is mobilised and 
sustained through discussion and the interchange of 
61 
views, rather than by arbitrary power of one sort or 
another" (Op Cit, p. 16) can science hope to regain the 
trust of the general public. 
Giddens also discusses how 'high consequence risks' give 
rise to 'dogmas of infallibility. Thus, "The bigger a 
potential disaster, the more likely governing 
authorities and technical specialists are to say that it 
'cannot occur'" (Op Cit, p. 220). And when, in due 
course, such latent risks are translated into life- 
threatening hazards, "'It cannot happen' becomes 'it 
cannot happen here'" (the very title of the post- 
Chernobyl CEGB video tape) (Op Cit, p. 221). Giddens 
notes, however, that excessive sensitivity to the 
possible negative effects of modern technologies can 
prove counter-productive: 
When alarms turn out to be only scares, those 
who point to the continuing existence of major 
hazards are likely to find themselves branded 
as doomsday merchants (Op Cit, p. 221). 
However, even though environmentalists may lose a 
measure of support through 'crying wolf', it remains the 
case that modern technologies have the capacity to 
inflict serious damage across both space and time. 
3A Politics of Risk and Hazard. 
3.1 Beck on 'Truncated Democracy'. 
3.1.1 Introduction. 
According to Beck, we live in a society where the really 
62 
important decisions lie well beyond the purview and 
influence of the general public. Decisions are made as 
if by an invisible hand. Real power - the power to 
innovate, produce and market, to set the political 
agenda and communicate events - lies with unaccountable 
'sub-political' entities, ranging from government 
bureaucracies that commission scientific reports to 
venture capitalists who sponsor 'blue sky' research. 
(The degree to which the Fulham protesters found 
themselves able to control their own 'risk destinies', 
and the authorities' attitude towards them will be 
examined in detail in later chapters). 
3.1.2 Unaccountable Power. 
In the Risk Society, says Beck, science is beyond the 
control of formal democratic structures: Science 
represents a new (and potentially anti-democratic) 'sub- 
politics'. As the breadth and depth of innovation grows, 
so the capacity of formal political mechanisms to 
regulate innovation reduces. 
Society is today driven by 'sub-political' innovation. 
Whatever our rank or wealth, we are all subjects of a 
"Truncated democracy', in which questions of the 
technological change of society remain beyond the reach 
of political-parliamentary decision-making" (Beck, U., 
in Featherstone, M., p. 118). In this 'truncated 
democracy' "Progress... is a blank cheque to be honoured 
- beyond agreement or refusal" (Ibid, p. 118). 
The new 'sub-politics' of innovation produces "Quasi- 
63 
governmental power positions... in the research 
laboratories, nuclear power plants, chemical 
factories... and so on... " (Ibid, p. 114). This is where 
real power, the power to change society, now resides. 
The ideas that flow from these centres of innovation 
constitute the 'Faith' of modern life -a Faith we are 
all obliged to keep. Obliged, because we have no choice. 
As Beck puts it, to question the why or wherefore of the 
innovatory deluge is almost an act of heresy. 
A good example of the power of the new sub-politics is 
given by the genetic engineering industry. (I use the 
term 'industry' because much of the investment in 
genetics is made with a view to generating the maximum 
return for shareholders). As the February 1994 panic 
over the insertion of 'cancer causing genes' into a 
virus "Similar to that which causes the common cold" 
(Hawkes, N., 'Science Must Be Safe And Seen To Be Safe', 
The Times, February 5,1994) at Birmingham University 
showed, such innovation circumvents established control 
procedures. At the time of the experiments, before the 
(post-hoc) intervention of the Health and Safety 
Executive, Birmingham University occupied a 'quasi- 
governmental' power position; making decisions on behalf 
of the public without its consent. . . or even 
knowledge. 
One can be sure that this sub-politics is practised in 
laboratories across Britain. This is the Faith the 
public is obliged to keep. 
Giddens, too, uses the term 'subpolitics' in the context 
of "The many expert systems that so influence our lives 
64 
today" (Op Cit, p. 128). Such expert systems are 'non- 
dialogic'. That is, they constitute a form of social 
organisation largely beyond the influence of the general 
public. As far as Giddens is concerned, science and 
technology are as 'fundamentalist' as some religions, 
"Refusing the discursive engagements which a world of 
cosmopolitan communication tends to enforce" (Op Cit, 
p. 85). Science still constitutes a form of 'traditional 
authority', the consequence being that "Expertise 
remains uninterrogated" (Op Cit, p. 128). While Giddens 
recognises that, at present, "There is no alternative to 
the rule of science and expertise", he also recognises 
that, in our increasingly reflexive epoch, "There is no 
alternative to a dialogic engagement with them" (Op Cit, 
p. 128). This puts the onus on scientists, technologists 
and their paymasters to respond. 
3.2 Beck on People Power. 
3.2.1 Introduction. 
Beck's discourse on the prominence of 'self-help' groups 
in contemporary politics provides us with a number of 
analytic tools with which to understand contemporary 
risk debates - including that at Fulham. Especially 
relevant are his views on the public's fear of 
'immiseration' through hazard, protesters' increasing 
use of 'formal' scientific discourse in environmental 
campaigns ('green' science), the marginalisation of 
orthodox norm/rule-bound politics, and the desire for a 
more consultative, 'fluidised' mode of government. 
65 
3.2.2 The 'Revolution of the Subiect' 
'People power' is the other side of the 'sub-politics' 
coin. In the Risk Society, power resides not only in 
science and technology, but also in the new popular 
movements organised around issues of gender, race, age, 
disability and the environment. As Beck puts it, 
"Citizens' groups have taken the initiative thematically 
in this society" (Beck, U., in Featherstone, Op Cit, 
p. 116). By 'this society' Beck is referring to the more 
prosperous countries of the northern hemisphere where 
the focus of concern (in his view) has shifted from 
material to environmental questions. While material 
immiseration may (for most) have been banished, 
'immiseration through hazards' is an ever-present threat 
to well-being. In this context, environmental groups 
proliferate and grow. Such groups monitor and agitate 
against the 'toxic experiment' unleashed upon the world 
by science and technology. This toxic experiment takes 
place "Invisibly, without scientific checking, without 
surveys, without statistics... under the condition that 
the victims are not informed". In the toxic experiment 
"People serving as laboratory animals in a self-help 
movement have to collect and report data on their own 
toxic symptoms acrainst the experts" (Beck, U., Risk 
Society, p. 69). Thus begins the "Scientization 
of. . . protest against science" 
(Ibid, p. 161). 
The new sub-politics of issue-based protest represents 
the maturation of democracy. The members of sub- 
political groups are using rights of self expression and 
66 
free association to establish a 'new political culture' 
in opposition to established forms. As Beck puts it, 
"Political modernisation disempowers and unbinds 
politics and politicizes society". In Beck's view, the 
new sub-politics can "Codetermine and change the agenda 
of politics" (Ibid, p. 194). Central to this process is 
the exploitation of the floating voter. 
Society is less structured today than at any time in the 
past. The fragmentation of, the great social blocs has 
caused the demise of party political loyalty and the 
fluidisation of politics. For example, while in Germany 
in the 1960s roughly ten percent of the electorate could 
be classified as 'swing voters', today that number 
stands at between twenty and forty percent (Ibid, 
p. 190). This blurring of political loyalties has been 
exploited by the new sub-political movements like the 
Greens (although it should be noted that the Greens have 
been more successful on mainland Europe than in 
Britain). 
Despite their success, such movements are sometimes 
criticised for being unrepresentative of the general 
will. They are dismissed as idiosyncratic and ephemeral 
'protest votes' unworthy of serious consideration. (The 
Mobil campaign of the late 1970s is typical of the 
discourse employed by international capital against 
'public interest' groups. As one newspaper ad ran; "Most 
['public interest'] groups don't represent any broader 
interest than that of their own members - and most of 
them don't have all that many members. Some have no 
67 
members at all, merely a board of directors and a source 
of funds. They grind a private axe - and claim that it 
really belongs to all of us" (New York Times, November 
1,1979)). But according to Beck, this reading of the 
new sub-politics is seriously flawed. The new movements 
are symptomatic of a'profound change in society. In this 
context the size of a group's membership, or source of 
funding is unimportant. 
Such groups 'flag up' a loss of confidence in science 
and technology. As Beck notes; "Techno-economic 
development is losing its cultural consensus" (Beck, U., 
Risk Society, p. 203). In this context, the demands for 
greater popular control over the sub-politics of science 
grow. 
Progress has been likened to "A blank check (sic. US 
spelling) to be honoured beyond comment and 
legitimation" (Ibid). The new movements are challenging 
such tacit assumptions, and are insisting that in the 
matter of techno-economic decisions, the public be 
enfranchised. 
The new sub-politics of participation has achieved much 
in Germany, where it has spawned a new political 
culture. In Beck's homeland, politics and 'non-politics' 
have become reversed. As he puts it "The political 
becomes non-political and the non-political political" 
(Ibid, P. 186). The net effect of this inversion is the 
"Fluidisation of politics into a political process" 
(Ibid, p. 199). In other words, politics is no longer 
remote, hierarchical and prescriptive, but open, 
68 
consultative and negotiative. In the new, 'networked' 
democratic process, consultation and negotiation between 
sub-political groups and 'formal' representative 
institutions takes place across hierarchies and fixed 
responsibilities. The democratic process becomes dynamic 
and 'connected' - in'short, 'messy'. 
Beck's observations are echoed by the New Times authors, 
who note that in Britain "The politics of the state 
has.. . been circumscribed by the growth of politics in 
civil society" (Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, 
p. 408). As Martin Jacques explains: 
The formal boundaries of politics are 
dissolving. The political world of parties and 
state has been invaded by a vast range of 
institutions from civil society, from 
charities to women's groups, from cultural 
bodies to environmental organisations, many of 
which can boast far higher levels of 
membership and participation and which are 
almost invariably far more modern in their 
forms of organisation and activity (Jacques, 
M., 'The End of Politics', Op Cit). 
The new politics occupies the ground between the old 
power blocs (government, political parties, trades 
unions, professional associations and other components 
of the establishment) . It often consists of loose 
associations of ad-hoc, often temporary bodies that 
unite around a specific issue. The associations, and 
sometimes the groups themselves, can be short-lived. 
Giddens develops, this analysis by pointing out that, in 
a 'post-traditional' society, such groups are both 
proactive and highly self-reliant: 
In a society of high reflexivity the regular 
69 
appropriation of expertise - in all its many 
forms - tends to replace the guidance of 
tradition. This is by definition an energetic 
society, not a passive one. Even where they 
stick by traditions, or recreate 
them... groups... are more or less compelled to 
take an active stance towards the conditions 
of their existence (Op Cit, p. 87). 
The new sub-political groups exemplify a major theme of 
Reflexive Modernity: the 'escape from structure'. The 
groups challenge both external and internal 
structuration. The eschewing of the 'dead weight' of 
internal bureaucracy allows groups to devote maximum 
effort to achieving objectives. As Mulgan puts it, 
"Energies are directed outwards rather than inwards to 
sustaining and reproducing a fixed structure" (Hall, S., 
and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 348). 
Established political groups, like the Labour Party, 
have not been enthusiastic about the new phenomenon. As 
Beatrix Campbell explains, while the new sub-political 
groups are often highly successful in achieving specific 
objectives, they are often scorned by the old guard for 
their particularism and lack of 'politics': 
[In Livingston] [t]he old pillars of politics 
have crumbled. Yet the place is full of 
activists. Their activism is local and 
practical... But, the traditional party 
militants complain, they're not political 
(Hall, S., and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 286). 
The particularism of sub-political groups has also been 
criticised in the media, as the following Jeremy Paxman 
question to a member of the Freedom Network (a matrix of 
civil liberties groups) demonstrates: 
70 
In the grown-up world, politics is about 
compromise... and it is about the lesser of two 
evils. In a sense, by concentrating on 
specific issues you avoid having to make those 
judgements, don't you? ('Newsnight', BBC TV, 
October 7,1994). 
Despite an occasional bad press, however (and the 
introduction of such restraining legislation as the 
Criminal Justice Bill (Berens, C., 'Diary of Dissent', 
Red Pepper, January, 1995)), there are numerous examples 
of the accession of sub-politics over formal politics. 
In Swindon, for example, the demise of old-style Labour 
politics due to the run-down of the town's industrial 
base has been paralleled by the rise of a vibrant sub- 
politics. As the Director of Swindon's Council for 
Voluntary Service has put it: 
There's been a huge expansion of self-help 
activity, a lot related to health and women's 
issues. 
. . Many are controlled 
by the users, 
many aren't huge, they aren't bureaucratic, 
they come and go as needs change (Hall, S., 
and Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 293). 
Such novel sub-political groups articulate the view that 
establishment politicians - of all hues - have failed 
the people. As one M11 protester put it in a TV 
interview: 
They [politicians] are too far away from where 
people are at. A lot of young people are fed 
up with paying people to do their action for 
them. They want to do it themselves and they 
want to see that things are being done 
('Newsnight', Op Cit, 1994). 
In conclusion, the 1990s have witnessed the maturation 
of the 'movement politics' of the 1960s. While political 
71 
parties across Europe are in decline, sub-political 
groups and groupings are in the ascendancy. The 
attraction of these groups is that they break the mould 
of the political 'Ancien Regime'. Politics is no longer 
about blind, unquestioning allegiance to synonymous 
class and party interests. Rather politics is about 
uniting around specific issues that are of direct and 
immediate concern to the individual. Where political 
parties are cold and impersonal, sometimes closer to the 
state than the membership, sub-political movements make 
the personal political. While political parties 
(largely) reject direct action, non-violent direct 
action (of the type practiced by Greenpeace) is a key 
lever for the new sub-political groups. 
In light of the new sub-politics, it is possible that in 
the coming years the role of the state will change from 
one of control to one of facilitation. The key features 
of an enabling state have been outlined by Mulgan: 
Rather than applying uniform rational 
principles, [the state's] task becomes one of 
overseeing the balance between systems, 
redistributing resources, and creating the 
conditions for a variety of groups and 
institutions to organise themselves. Rather 
than engaging in social engineering (the old 
mechanistic metaphor), the state's legitimate 
task becomes one of creating the space for 
social experiment [My emphasis] (Hall, S., and 
Jacques, M., Op Cit, p. 387). 
Giddens strikes a similar note to Mulgan with his 
concept of 'generative politics'. Through generative 
politics the public is allowed both the space and 
resources to develop and implement solutions to social 
problems for themselves. Such a politics is one of the 
72 
prerequisites for the fostering of active trust - the 
only viable form of trust in a de-traditionalising late 
modern society (Giddens, Op Cit, p. 93). Another 
prerequisite is greater openness in democratic 
adjudications; in Giddens' words, 'Deliberative 
democratisation'. Giddens is scathing of contemporary 
democratic practice: 
Parliaments and congressional assemblies in a 
liberal democratic system are supposed to be 
the public spaces where agreement is achieved 
on policy-making matters. Yet how open these 
are, as it were, to 'inspection' by the public 
is quite variable. They can become either 
dominated by the factionalism of party 
politics or become essentially private 
debating societies. Deliberative 
democratisation would mean greater 
transparency in many areas of government... (Op 
Cit, p. 114). 
3.3 Beck on 'Scientization'. 
3.3.1 Introduction. 
Beck's discourse on the 'scientization' of dissent 
highlights the increasing willingness and capacity of 
protest groups to employ formal science to support their 
claims and objectives. During the 1995 debate over the 
disposal of the Brent Spar oil storage platform, for 
example, Greenpeace used formal scientific assessments 
to support its demand that the platform should not be 
dumped at sea. In a rather more subtle and less 
confrontational application of 'scientized' protest, in 
1993 Greenpeace sought to highlight the environmental 
threat posed by refrigerators that use ozone-depleting 
chemicals like chloro-fluorocarbons by pioneering an 
73 
'environmentally friendly' refrigerator. 
3.3.2 Populist Science. 
A characteristic of Reflexive Modernity is that the 
'critique of progress' is itself a scientific 
('scientized') critique. 
There are two reasons for the 'scientization of 
protest'. The first is the practical problem of 
identifying and measuring contemporary hazards. Many 
hazards, like carbon monoxide, airborne asbestos or 
radiation, are invisible. Such hazards can be revealed 
only with the aid of science: 
The diagnosis of... threats... is often possible 
only with the aid of the entire arsenal of 
scientific measurement, experimental and 
argumentative instruments. It requires 
considerable special knowledge, the readiness 
and ability to engage in unconventional 
analysis, as well as technical facilities and 
measurement instruments that are generally 
quite expensive (Beck, U., Risk Society, Op 
Cit, p. 162). 
The second reason for the scientization of protest is 
the requirement that the protest be made 'credible' in 
the eyes of the political establishment. Qualitative 
assessments of risk and hazard are generally ignored by 
the agencies of the state and the media. Quantitative 
assessments, on the other hand, are given a fair hearing 
because they 'play by the rules of the game' i. e. by the 
rules of scientific evidence and argumentation. Where 
issues of risk and hazard are debated, the lingua franca 
is science. Alternative forms of dialogue are either 
74 
ignored or 'marked down'. Thus, 'perceived risk' is held 
to be inherently inferior to 'statistical probability'. 
The former is subjective. The latter 'scientific', and 
therefore objective and disinterested. 
There are some, however, who believe such a distinction 
to be founded on a false premise; namely that science is 
uncontaminated by judgement. As Levidow points out, 
"Knowledge (including the scientific kind] is a product 
of social labour, which always involves a cognitive 
framework" ('Risk as Reification', EASST Newsletter, 
Volume 13 (1994), Number 1, p. 18). Levidov's argument 
highlights the cultural dimensions of scientific 
knowledge (some of which were explored in the discussion 
on the sociology of scientific knowledge (SSK) in 
section 2.3.2, above). Others, like Wynne and Irwin, 
have commented on the potential 'interestedness' of 
scientific discourse. Wynne, for example, has focused on 
the alleged precommitments of those who produce and 
implement scientific and technological risk assessments 
in the nuclear industry. Thus, during the 1977 Windscale 
Public Inquiry, those opposed to the development of the 
thermal oxide reprocessing plant (THORP) (a facility for 
reprocessing spent nuclear fuel), queried the 
objectivity of the nuclear scientists' discourse. It was 
felt that the scientific arguments presented in the 
Inquiry in favour of the facility were unduly influenced 
by the nuclear industry's allegedly 'expansionist' 
agenda: 
The opponents believed that the social 
institutions that managed nuclear power were 
committed to its indefinite expansion... [and] 
75 
were unresponsive to.. . alternative technological social trajectories (Wynne, Op 
Cit, p. 277). 
In such a precommited institutional context, says Wynne, 
"Although the official expert framing of the risk issue 
was taken to be the natural rational perspective, it was 
just as much derived from prior social-institutional 
assumptions as the public framing of the issue" (Ibid, 
p. 278). (More optimistically, however, Wynne goes on to 
say that the reflexive articulation of such 
precommitments through 'social learning' might allow 
"[T]he opportunity to place scientific knowledge on a 
more legitimate, properly conditional, and ultimately 
effective footing" [My emphasis] (Ibid, p. 279). 
The dynamics of the 1977 Windscale Public Inquiry 
support Beck's view that the 'scientization' of protest 
against science produces a kind of scientific 'arms 
race' in which each side tries to knock the other out 
with the most 'objective' and thoroughly researched 
claims. As he explains, "Those who find themselves in 
the public pillory as risk producers refute the charges 
as well as they can, with the aid of a 'counter-science' 
gradually becoming institutionalised in industry" (Risk 
Society, p. 32). 
But there is a more positive side to the 'scientization' 
of protest, namely the opening up of a new channel of 
communication between protest group and 
government/industry - namely the lingua franca of 
science itself. Before the scientization of protest, 
when 'mere' social rationality was pitched against 
76 
scientific rationality, "The two sides talk[ed] past 
each other" (Ibid, p. 30). Now, because both sides use 
the same language, at least some form of dialogue on 
risk and hazard can take place - although the unequal 
distribution of political and economic resources may 
make it a rather one-sided conversation: Scientific 
research is costly and requires publicity and political 
support to influence debate. 
The scientization of protest generates other 
difficulties too: If one accepts science as the lingua 
franca of protest, one also accepts the checks and 
balances inherent in scientific argumentation. These 
include, for example, establishing strict proof of 
causality in pollution cases. 
In our complex world, with its antagonistic and 
synergistic interactions, proving 'beyond all reasonable 
doubt' that pollutant X emanates from source Y, or that 
a cancer is caused 'beyond all reasonable doubt' by 
chemical Z and not by synergistic or antagonistic 
reactions between other chemicals, is extremely 
difficult. Therefore, accepting and playing by the rules 
of causality can work against the environmentalist 
agenda. Beck's example of a lead crystal factory at 
Altenstadt in Germany provides a good illustration of 
the dangers of accepting the rules of scientific 
discourse. The factory, although visibly emitting 
"Flecks of lead and arsenic the size of a penny" (Beck, 
U., in Featherstone, M., p. 102), avoided prosecution 
because it could not be proved 'beyond all reasonable 
77 
doubt' that the pollution came from this plant and not 
from one of three other glass factories in the area. 
Thus we can see from this case that if causality has to 
be proved 'beyond all reasonable doubt', "The more 
pollution is committed, the less is committed" (Ibid, 
p. 103). 
At a more basic level, of course, adopting scientific 
discourse as the lingua franca of environmental debate 
requires that one's basic science is sound. That is, 
one's scientific method must be thorough enough to 
withstand peer review. If one produces 'sloppy' science, 
one is instantly damned both by the scientific 
'establishment', and by those who fund establishment 
science. This, of course, is what happened in the case 
of the Brent Spar, where Greenpeace were rounded on by 
both company executives and Ministers of the Crown for 
producing wildly inaccurate estimates of the amount of 
oil left in the platform. One junior industry minister 
accused Greenpeace of 'scaremongering' and of making 
'wild allegations'. The fiasco culminated in the issuing 
of a public apology by Greenpeace to the platform's 
owners (The Environment Digest, 1995/8, p. 13). Thus it 
can be seen that the 'scientization' of protest may be a 
double-edged sword, in that poorly planned or executed 
scientific investigations may detract from, rather than 
add to one's political and/or environmental argument. 
The scientization of protest can also generate 
difficulties within protest groups, by alienating the 
leaders of a group from their membership. According to 
Brian Wynne, this is exactly what happened to Friends of 
78 
the Earth at the Inquiry into the proposed Thermal Oxide 
Reprocessing Plant at Windscale in the late 1970s, where 
the formal presentation of evidence, and adoption by the 
group of "A very moderate stance" served to distance 
FoE's representatives from the rank and file (Wynne, B., 
'Nuclear Debate at the Crossroads', New Scientist, 
August 3,1978, p. 351). 
4 The Discourse in Summary. 
Beck's core thesis is that the developed countries have 
entered a new epoch - that of the Risk Society. In this 
new society it is realised that the ecology of the 
planet is under threat - chiefly from the risks and 
hazards of (First World) scientific innovation. The 
recognition that "The biosphere of man's inheritance and 
the technosphere of his creation are out of balance" 
(Zuckerman, Nature, Vol 358, July 23,1992, p. 274) 
generates a new consciousness, articulated through a 
vibrant sub-politics of environmentalism. 
But the Cartesian vision of progress through science is 
not easily changed. Those who commission and conduct 
scientific research (who, through their association with 
science, are already powerful 'sub-political' actors) 
defend its reputation by challenging the activists head- 
on. Environmentalists are required to produce formal 
scientific evidence to substantiate their claims. If 
such evidence can be produced, it is subjected to the 
most rigorous proofs. Given the interconnectedness of 
industrial and natural systems, many of the claims made 
79 
by environmentalists are dashed on the rocks of 
'causality'. 
Paradoxically, science, although subject to a vigorous 
critique, remains at the heart of the solution to 
environmental degradation and technological risk/hazard. 
Few advocate a 'return to nature'. The utopian dream of 
a return to self-sustaining agricultural hamlets and 
craft industry is long dead. (As Beck puts it, "Little 
remains today among the professionalised segments of the 
ecology movement of that abstinence from acting on 
nature that was previously propagated by the movement" 
(Risk Society, p. 163)). 
The paradox of the scientization of protest against 
science is paralleled by other dramatic innovations, 
such as the Risk Society's 'revolution of the subject'. 
Thus, citizens of the Risk Society display a heightened 
consciousness of self and willingness to 're-write' 
their lives through social experimentation. In this 
Reflexive Modernity, personal biographies are re-written 
to reflect changed circumstances: The wife who liberates 
herself from marriage will, over time, substitute the 
attitudes and habits of the married state with those of 
independent living. That is, the personal biography is 
re-written to support and reproduce the new, preferred 
lifestyle. Reflexive Modernity is thus a questioning 
modernity, characterised by a desire to take control of 
one's life. The precondition of Reflexive Modernity is a 
thorough questioning of all traditions and 
prescriptions, including those implicit in the discourse 
and praxis of science. 
80 
Central to Beck's solution to the dysfunctionalities of 
late modernity is the sensitisation of the practice of 
science to the natural world. Ever optimistic, he argues 
that a science which 'acts with' rather than 'on' 
nature, and which is more under the control of non- 
scientists, may provide an antidote to the Risk Society. 
81 
Chapter 2 
Needed: A Political Economy of Risk and Hazard? 
1 Introduction. 
Building on Chapter One's analysis of late modernity, 
this chapter questions the integrity of the Risk Society 
thesis as advanced by (especially) Beck and Giddens. 
While it is not my intention to debunk the thesis, I 
wish to make a case for a more holistic and textured 
concept of risk in late modernity. 
Could it be, for example, that alongside the novel 
scientific and technological risks and hazards of late 
modernity, the 'old' enemies of "Sickness, poverty, 
unemployment, squalor and ignorance" (Childs, D., 
Britain Since 1939, Macmillan, Britain, 1995, p. 59) 
identified by Beveridge in 1942, persist? If the old 
evils do indeed persist (even in modified late modern 
form), it is surely worth exploring how they might 
affect our understanding of and reaction to novel 
technological risks and hazards? 
To paraphrase Marx, while we may indeed make our own 
history (and if Beck is to be believed, we are more able 
and willing to do this today than in the past), we do so 
'under conditions transmitted from the past'. My point 
is that the 'past' and present interpenetrate and 
overlap; that the socio-economic 'bete noires' 
identified by Beveridge persist within late modernity - 
albeit in modified form; and that these socio-economic 
factors influence our subjective experience of late 
82 
modernity. 
Given the diversity of human experience, it follows that 
the concept of the Risk Society will mean different 
things to different people. In Beck's language, the Risk 
Society is a kind of scientific, technological and 
democratic dystopia. However, to the residents of an 
inner city sink estate, the Risk Society is perhaps more 
an economic than environmental or democratic nightmare; 
more a crisis of systematic and institutionalised 
discrimination than of personal identity. 
There can never be a definitive concept of the Risk 
Society. The best we can do, in my view, is to talk of 
subjective, differently constituted Risk Societies. 
2 The Complete Picture? 
In his major work on the changing consciousness of late 
modernity, Ulrich Beck conjures up a picture of a post- 
materialist First World in which issues of environmental 
disamenity come to dominate social, economic and 
political discourse. A world in which citizens, 
liberated from the constraints of tradition and cultural 
prescription, are free to self-actualise. A world in 
which we have both the time and resources to develop and 
indulge our environmental conscience. If modernity was 
characterised by personal economic turpitude, late 
modernity is characterised by the risks inherent in 
unrestrained and unaccountable scientific and 
technological innovation. Such risks are democratic, 
(generally) affecting not just a single sex, age group, 
83 
class or caste, but everyone in more or less equal 
measure. In short, according to Ulrich Beck, the risks 
of late modernity are primarily environmental, are 
suffered equally by all, and are the concern of all, 
whatever their education, history or socio-economic 
status. 
Beck's view is echoed by other observers of the late 
modern condition, including, in Britain, people like 
Anthony Giddens. 
But is this the complete picture? Have these eminent 
observers of the late modern scene told us the whole 
truth? Or have they, in seeking to establish the Risk 
Society thesis, been rather selective? (Beck, for 
example, has been accused by Rustin (Op Cit, p. 10) of 
polemicising on behalf of the German Greens). Do we 
really live in a post-materialist society? Do we all 
possess the social skills and personal confidence to 
break the suffocating mould of tradition? And if we do, 
do we all want to? (See, for example, the August 1990 
New Internationalist analysis of the re-birth of secular 
and religious fundamentalisms in late modernity). Do 
environmental questions really determine the direction 
of contemporary social, economic and political discourse 
at all levels of society and in all circumstances? In 
short, to what extent has the Risk Society text been 
promoted at the expense of consideration of the wider 
social, economic and political context? 
84 
2.1 A Subjectively Constituted Kaleidoscope of Risks 
and Hazards. 
Most citizens of late modernity have no choice but to 
evaluate general environmental risks, such as ozone 
depletion, in the context of other - perhaps more 
pressing - physical, social and economic hazards. Some 
of these hazards will be encountered in a 'normal' day's 
work. Consider, for example, the immediate physical 
discomforts of the shipwright: 
Mack then took me on to the half-completed 
ship, through No. 1 hold where the scaffolding, 
erected to reach the seam beneath the decks, 
was very unstable and lurched at a disturbing 
angle. It should have been secured to the 
bulkhead but wasn't. He pointed out the hole 
in the deck which the welders have to climb 
through to get beneath the engine bed and down 
into the lube-oil sump for the final welds. 
Everywhere that steel touches steel has to be 
welded. The ship has two skins (double 
bottoms) and the welders have to crawl between 
them along narrow seams, wearing bulky 
protective clothing and dragging their masks 
and tools. They also pull an extractor pipe 
after them. Their journey is through steel 
hatches and over steel ribs which stick up 
every few feet and scrape the spine. Once 
inside, they work in cramped conditions, 
usually alone, lying on their sides in a steel 
box sometimes no higher than eighteen inches 
high, breathing fumes all the while. 
Almost every welder I spoke to dreaded 
working in the 'lube-oil' and they all, 
without exception, recalled at least one 
occasion when they had 'thrown a wobbler' in 
the double bottoms. One man told me that his 
mate had gone permanently mad after being kept 
on the same job all the time, moving from ship 
to ship, double bottom to double bottom... 
If the light fails it is pitch black, 
and the boom and screech f rom the burner and 
caulkers becomes terrifying... (Pickard, T., We 
Make Ships, Secker and Warburg, Britain, 1989, 
p. 34) 
(It should be noted that while such activities are 
(unfortunately, in the economic sense) no longer typical 
85 
of the industrial scene in the Northern hemisphere, they 
are increasingly common in the expanding economies of 
the South - especially, in the case of ship 
construction, South Korea and China). 
That other 'smokestack' industry, steel, is no less 
hazardous than shipbuilding. As Deborah Orr recalled of 
her 1970s childhood in the steel town of Motherwell; 
Everyone in Motherwell ha (d] terrible stories 
of deaths at [Ravenscraig] ... The most awful 
story was of a man who had toppled into one of 
the huge ladles full of molten steel. He'd 
been up to his chest, the rest of his body 
burning away. His workmates had pushed him 
right in, rather than try to save him, because 
they knew he couldn't survive (Orr, D., The 
Town of Steel, The Guardian Weekend Magazine, 
August 3,1996, p. 15). 
Such terrible incidents served to remind the community 
of the risks its menfolk (there were no steelwomen at 
Ravenscraig) ran at the steel plant. Such risks 
constituted an important part of the socio-economic 
tableau against which the people of Motherwell - men, 
women and children - lived their lives. Deborah Orr's 
own father was badly injured at work when a piece of 
loose trimmed steel sliced through his ankle. Although 
it crippled him for months, it "Barely counted as an 
industrial accident" (Ibid). In Motherwell, workplace 
accidents were just as much a part of everyday life as 
the 6am, 2pm and 10pm shift sirens that 'sounded across 
the town'. 
The dangers inherent in coal mining are well documented. 
These range from such chronic health effects as 
86 
pneumoconiosis to the immediate hazards of roof collapse 
or gas explosion. Prior to its privatisation in the mid- 
1990s, the British coal industry was one of the' safest 
in the world. Since privatisation, however, the 
industry's profile has changed, with a plethora of small 
companies opening up new, or re-opening old workings. It 
is possible that, in some of these new undertakings, 
working conditions may not be as satisfactory as they 
were before privatisation. The accident rate may rise. 
Process industries, too, have their risks, as the 
following testimonies from chemical plant operators 
demonstrate: 
You're breathing in all those chemicals, so 
you get all shrivelled up, like Joey. You know 
he looks like an old man. He's all hunched up, 
and he's only forty (Halle, D., America's 
Working Man: Work, Home and Politics Among 
Blue-Collar Property Owners, University of 
Chicago Press, 1984, p. 110). 
I've been here when they put in large amounts 
of asbestos and the place is white with fumes. 
Chemical workers don't live long. You're bound 
to pick up something (Ibid). 
Thus the working conditions experienced by manual wage 
labour are often unpleasant and/or dangerous. 
Temperature extremes, noise, filth, gases and immediate 
physical dangers combine to make blue collar work at 
best unpleasant, at worst hellish. As De Angelis 
explains in Blue Collar Workers and Politics: 
A majority of the [blue collar] interviewees 
say that their jobs are very tiring, difficult 
and/or nerve wracking. Another majority 
complains of excessive temperature (usually 
heat, but sometimes cold, for those exposed 
outside in the winter); the kitchens of the 
electric plant, the industrial laundry, the 
87 
blast furnaces and pipe-casting shop of Pont- 
a-Mousson and the steel-rolling sectors of 
Pompey are often literally "infernal". In 
addition, there is also noise (e. g., the 
whirring of turbines,... the grumbling of iron 
ore sorters), and dirt, and dust, and grease, 
and, in many cases, considerable danger. Some 
jobs expose workers to electric shocks, others 
to gas and bad air, others to burns, and 
almost all to unpredictable accidents ... In the 
mine, there is' the risk of cave-in, or of 
getting an arm or leg caught in a conveyor 
belt; in the steel factories, grinders 
accumulate very fine dust that penetrates into 
their lungs, while the rollers can lose a part 
of their body at any time (De Angelis, R. A., 
Ibid, Croom Helm, 1982, p. 42) 
Roller accidents in steel mills are not uncommon. 
Deborah Orr's father, for example, narrowly escaped 
serious injury when a red-hot steel bar came off a 
roller-conveyor, "Shot up in the air and seared right 
through his platform an inch from his foot. How he hung 
on to the swinging platform and didn't fall onto the 
rollers, he still doesn't know" (Op Cit, p. 15). 
Even the so-called 'clean' industries of late modernity, 
like electronics, present physical risks; as the workers 
in Mexico's high technology maquiladoras are 
discovering: 
I was on the health and safety committee about 
two years ago. . . They tried to 
bribe me as they 
always do, but I wouldn't take the money. I 
complained about the fumes from lead soldering 
which were really bad. There were no exhaust 
fans and people's eyes would turn red and 
their voices would go hoarse. Then they would 
get nausea and headaches. About half the 
workers became ill (Ghazi, P., 'America's 
Deadly Border', The Observer Magazine, 
December 12,1993). 
Such observations are consistent with the view of 
Watterson (1991) that workers are often fully aware of 
88 
occupational health risks. Thus Watterson notes a 
sensitivity to occupational health matters on the part 
of "[A]sbestos workers, plastics workers, textile 
workers - mule spinners with cancer and byssinosis, 
welders and foundry workers with respiratory diseases, 
engineering workers with vibration-induced white finger 
and shipbuilders with occupational disease" (Watterson, 
A., in Irwin, A., Citizen Science: A Study of People, 
Expertise and Sustainable Development, Routledge, 
Britain, 1995, p. 131). Such manifestations of late- 
modern reflexivity, however, must be viewed in context. 
Thus, bearing in mind the economic necessity of work, it 
does not necessarily follow that such risk consciousness 
will act to change, or even modify, behaviour. 
Besides having to come to terms with the immediate 
physical hazards of paid employment, workers (and their 
families) also face the economic risks attendant upon 
the loss of that employment - however arduous, dangerous 
or badly paid it might be. The paradox of workers 
exposed to danger fighting tooth and nail to keep their 
jobs - and therefore a measure of economic security - is 
well illustrated in the following testimony from an 
American chemical process worker: 
What are you going to do? I worry all the time 
about the stuff I smell and about some of the 
things I've seen over there. But I'm making 
$11 an hour doing inside work. In West 
Virginia, you don't walk away from top dollar 
like that (Chaze, W. L., 'Grim Cloud of Worry 
Reaches U. S. ', U. S. News and World Report, 
December 17,1984, p. 27). 
In the Kanawha Valley, West Virginia - otherwise known 
89 
as "Chemical Valley" - industrial and general 
environmental hazards are tolerated out of economic 
necessity: 
[O]n Institute's main street, chemical workers 
swig beer and tell each other what they know 
of the accident in India and of Union 
Carbide's plans [UC have operated in Chemical 
Valley since the 1920s]. Some say that they, 
too, are worried about the potential for an 
accident but have no prospect of finding other 
work in an impoverished state with one of the 
highest jobless rates in the country (Ibid). 
Such job insecurity is not a new phenomenon, however. 
Thus in 1975, "25 percent of all Americans [were] afraid 
of losing their jobs" (Sierra Club Bulletin, Vol 60, 
1975, p. 25). Even allowing for 'interview bias' - one 
might expect even some of those with secure jobs to 
answer in the affirmative - this figure indicates a very 
real public fear. And these were the days before the 
birth of the 'New Right' and Reganomics. 
The 'economic imperative' is also very much in evidence 
in Britain, where an insecure and fearful workforce has 
developed a pragmatic tolerance of job-related risks and 
hazards. As one stacker-driver in a chemical company put 
it in a 1995 job condition survey: 
I work in the outside storage department ... I don't think anybody would take the outside 
job, with it being the dangerous chemical 
side. It's like a mile away from the main 
complex. Because it was permanent, I jumped at 
the chance.. there's a lot of responsibility, 
with the chemicals, dangerous chemicals 
(Workers' Voices - Accounts of Working Life in 
Britain in the Nineties, Greater Manchester 
Low Pay Unit (GMLPU), Britain, October 1995, 
p. 20). 
90 
Of course, job insecurity has a long history in Britain 
(as. in other industrialised countries) . But, as in the 
States, things seemed to deteriorate from the mid 1970s, 
with the financial cut-backs of the Callaghan 
administration - cut-backs accelerated under Margaret 
Thatcher. Given the consequent further erosion of job 
security it was unsurprising that the miners, despite 
the dangers inherent in deep mining, fought so hard in 
1984/1985 and 1993/1994 to preserve their industry. 
Unemployment, and its attendant fears, loom large in the 
public psyche. As another GMLPU survey interviewee put 
it, "My experience is that a lot of people are scared. 
They're scared of losing their job. They're scared of 
being left with nothing. No house, no food to put in 
their children's mouth. They're scared of it" (Ibid, 
p. 22). Fear of unemployment can be a powerful influence 
on behaviour, as evinced by the decision of the 
Ravenscraig men to continue working even during the 
miners strike of 1984/1985. Suspecting that the plant 
would be shut for good if they joined their brothers in 
arms, the employees kept the plant working. Given the 
importance of the 'Triple Alliance' to the miners' 
cause, this was not an easy decision. But economic 
necessity dictated that solidarity be sacrificed for 
jobs. Inevitably, the steelworkers' motives were twisted 
by the government: 
When the [miners strike] was over, Thatcher 
appeared on television, congratulating the men 
of Ravenscraig for not giving in to the 
miners. The town, as one, was affronted (Orr, 
Op Cit, p. 16) 
91 
Fear of unemployment continues into the 1990s. Today in 
South Wales, for example, people are so fearful of the 
consequences of unemployment that some are willing to 
work for £1.70 an hour (even though the TUC in September 
1996 recommended a minimum hourly rate of £4.26 (The 
Sunday Times, September 15,1996)). Such meagre 
renumeration means that many are "Having to work in 
excess of 70 hours a week to make ends meet". In the 
'dog eat dog', laissez-faire economic environment of the 
1990s, abuses of workers' rights are commonplace: 
The (heath and Port Talbot Citizens Advice 
Bureau] has... discovered that many employers 
are not paying holiday pay or allowing meal 
breaks, and in some cases overtime is 
compulsory with no extra pay on the hourly 
rate. Employees often found themselves without 
a written contract several months after 
beginning employment. By law every employee is 
entitled to a contract of employment within 12 
weeks of starting a job (Harris, F., Poor Pay 
Causing Families Hardship, South Wales Evening 
Post, September 4,1996). 
Despite such abuses, however, there is no shortage of 
applicants for jobs. 
Fear of unemployment permeates even the previously 
secure middle classes. As Will Hutton explains in The 
State We're In, the British middle class, sandwiched 
between an "Arrogant officer class. . . 
favoured with 
education, jobs, housing and pensions" and "the new 
working poor", contains an ever increasing number "Who 
are insecure, fearful for their jobs in an age of 
permanent 'down sizing', 'cost-cutting' and 
'casualisation' and ever more worried about their 
92 
ability to maintain a decent standard of living" (Cape, 
Britain, 1995, p. 2/3). 
The 'economic imperative' is recognised - and sometimes 
cynically promoted - by both politicians and employers. 
Consider, for example, the following assertion from a 
Texas state representative: 
I don't need some bunch of do-gooder nuts 
telling me what's good to breathe.. .1 think we 
are all willing to have a little bit of crud 
in our lungs and a full stomach rather than a 
whole lot of clean air and nothing to eat 
(Kazis, R. and Grossman, R. L., Fear at Work: 
Job Blackmail, Labor and the Environment, 
Pilgrim Press, US, 1982, p. 59). 
Such views may be promoted (for whatever reason) by 
influential commentators, as Kazis and Grossman explain: 
Kraft [a nationally syndicated columnist in 
the US] reinforced the notion that it is not 
possible for the nation to be concerned with 
both strong industry and secure, decent jobs; 
with economic revitalisation of industry and 
environmental protection... Some day perhaps, 
when Big America has made the country wealthy 
enough, the interests of Little America can be 
addressed. But if the millions of people Kraft 
writes off as little want to see that day, 
they had better give Corporate america free 
rein (Ibid, p. 64). 
Not unexpectedly, employers also put the interests of 
'Big America' before those of 'Little America'. As a 
nuclear industry representative put it on one occasion: 
If the United States continues in its infinite 
wisdom to strangle itself on energy problems 
we'll have to go elsewhere. We need to look 
not only between states, but between countries 
(Ibid, p. 53). 
The result of this pro-industry, pro-development, pro- 
93 
risk discourse, according to Kazis and Grossman, is a 
general acquiescence in the industrial project: 
Peoples' beliefs can be shaken when they are 
told repeatedly that change is impossible, 
that their ideas are impractical. And they can 
be persuaded to 'be realistic' when employers 
make it clear that to persist might cost them 
their jobs. For this reason people often 
accept the choices put forward by their 
employers as the only alternatives: we accept 
'jobs versus the environment', rather than 
insist on 'jobs and the environment'. As one 
Fisher body worker told a New York Times 
reporter, 'If that's a guy's livelihood, and 
they say it's the only way to do it, what's a 
guy going to do? ' (Ibid, p. 66) 
Such "Indoctrination and propaganda" (Chomsky, N., 
Keeping the Rabble in Line, AK Press, Britain, 1994, 
p. 112), in concert with the basic economic needs and 
familial obligations of working people, is a powerful 
influence on behaviour. As Chomsky explains: 
Anybody lives within a cultural and social 
framework which has certain values and certain 
opportunities. It assigns cost to various 
kinds of action and benefits to others. You 
just live in that. You can't help it. We live 
in one that assigns benefits to efforts to 
achieve individual gain. Any individual can 
ask himself or herself, let's say I'm the 
father or mother of a family, what do I do 
with my time? I've got twenty four hours a 
day. If I've got children to take care of, a 
future to worry about, what do I do? One thing 
you can do is try to play up to the boss and 
see if you can get a dollar more an hour, or 
maybe kick somebody in the face when you walk 
past them. If not do it directly, do it 
indirectly, by the mechanisms that are set up 
for you within a capitalist society. That's 
one way. The other way you can do it is by 
spending your evenings going around trying to 
organise other people who will then spend 
their evenings at meetings, go out on a picket 
line, carry out a long struggle... Maybe 
they'll finally get enough people together so 
they'll ultimately achieve a gain, which may 
or may not be greater than the gain that you 
tried to achieve by following the 
94 
individualist course. People have to make 
those choices. They make them within a 
framework of existing structures (Ibid). 
And when people make the sorts of choices outlined by 
Chomsky, they do so in full knowledge of the 
consequences. They understand that by knuckling under 
they legitimate and dignify those who exploit and 
oppress them. They know that the pursuit of individual 
interest may inhibit or preclude collective action. And 
they well understand the immediate physical and general 
environmental risks and hazards to which they subject 
themselves, their families, neighbours and communities. 
But they also know they have to pull in a wage. 
The 'economic imperative' is especially strong in 
'company towns' - areas heavily or completely dependent 
upon a single firm or industry - as the examples of 
Sellafield in Britain and Middleport, New York State 
illustrate. 
In the hills around the Sellafield nuclear reprocessing 
facility in Cumbria, sheep farmers had suspected for 
some time that they and their charges had been exposed 
to chronic caesium contamination. The Chernobyl nuclear 
explosion of 1986 and subsequent heavy contamination of 
the hills through precipitation brought government 
scientists, reporters and academics to the area. 
Although the issue of chronic contamination was raised, 
few farmers would openly criticise the BNFL plant.. As 
one resident put it, "If you are a journalist and you 
approach a Cumbrian farmer, he'll clam up. But why? 
Because they're frightened that Willie will lose his 
95 
good job at Sellafield... [Y]ou don't want to cut your 
neighbours' throats" (Wynne, B., 'To Believe or not to 
Believe, is That the question? Expert Credibility and 
the Legitimation of Science', (paper presented to 
Science Museum Conference on Policies and Publics for 
Science, London, April, 1990), Lancaster University, 
p. 14). The reason for the farmers' general reticence was 
simple: hill farming is a precarious occupation. Life is 
physically hard, and the financial rewards are meagre. A 
job at Sellafield provides a reliable income in 
relatively comfortable conditions. If such a desired job 
were held by a family member, or even family friend or 
neighbour, no farmer would risk that livelihood by 
speaking out against Sellafield - however much they 
feared the consequences. As Brian Wynne explains, 
"Underlying the farmers' fears and their mistrust of the 
Sellafield authorities was a deep sense of social 
solidarity and dependency which naturally constrained 
what it was possible to think" (Ibid). (Note that Wynne 
postulates that thoughts as well as actions are 
influenced by the economic imperative). Those who 
criticised the farmers for not speaking out failed to 
understand how their views and behaviour were 
conditioned by the social milieu in which they lived. 
The critics failed to understand the 'social character' 
of their position. 
'Economic dependency' and 'social impotence' (Ibid, 
p. 15) also characterise the discourse on chemical risk 
at Middleport, New York State, in the wake of the Bhopal 
tragedy. Following the leak of methyl isocyanate (MIC) 
96 
at Bhopal in India in 1984 (which killed several 
thousand people and maimed many more), America's FMC 
Corporation suspended its MIC operation at Middleport. 
The temporary loss of the facility, which employed 170 
people and paid 20% of local taxes, troubled both 
workers and townspeople. As one store owner put it: 
It's the heartbeat of the community... Without 
them everything comes to a dead halt. If they 
closed, the town would dry up and blow away 
(Gruson, L., 'Village's "Heartbeat", A 
Chemical Plant, Raises Fears', The New York 
Times, March 9,1985). 
A union official was equally dismayed: 
The majority of this area is a paycheck away 
from economic disaster... We're already hurting 
and we certainly don't need any more economic 
devastation (Ibid). 
An FMC shop steward starkly concurred: 
This is more than our livelihood... It's our 
life. It's our home. We work together and then 
we see each other after work... It'll be like 
Christmas if we ever see a train car full of 
MIC pulling in here (Ibid). 
The Vice Mayor drew the darkest picture - albeit with a 
sense of humour: 
Without FMC... we're going to be chasing jack 
rabbits down Main Street (Ibid). 
Of course, not every Middleport resident longed to hear 
the whistle of the MIC train. A local schools officer 
put the case for 'environmental responsibility' thus; 
"People are caught on the horns of a dilemma. . . 
They ask 
97 
'Should I get up and demand they stop making it, or 
should I trust them? ' They say 'I don't know what to do, 
but I don't want to worry every time my child coughs"' 
(Ibid). Another resident was positively contemptuous of 
the pro-FMC lobby: 
Most people don't see the danger and they 
don't care to see it... They feel that if they 
don't see it, then it doesn't exist and 
they're safe (Ibid). 
Such statements are typical of environmental risk 
debates (as will be shown later) : an apparently 
'passive' and 'indifferent' public is accused - 
sometimes by relatively prosperous citizens not 
economically dependent on, or historically involved with 
the industry in question - of turning a blind eye to 
danger. Such assessments, however, can be peremptory, 
for as Halle has shown in America's Working Man, workers 
(and their families, and possibly also their neighbours) 
are often fully aware of the risks - both direct and 
indirect - that they run. Take chemical workers, for 
example. As Halle explains, "Often [the process 
workers] ... 
become very angry as they talk about the 
damage being done to their bodies" (Op Cit, p. 114). Many 
of the operators interviewed by Halle knew exactly the 
price they were paying for the opportunity to work. As 
one put it, "There must be something wrong. This plant 
has been going since 1939 and there's only seven guys of 
pensionable age. Take that inert gas machine... it killed 
three guys. There was... our first [union] president. He 
was a strong, healthy guy, and then he worked down there 
98 
for a few months and went out sick and never came back. 
And Al - he worked there. He used to be as strong as a 
horse, and now he's got cancer" (Op Cit, p. 114). Another 
put it more succinctly: 
Ideally I'd like to see this whole joint 
closed down. The company sucks. It's all 
unsafe - the fumes and all that (Op Cit, 
p. 114). 
Halle's findings support Irwin's (1995) thesis on 
'active citizenship'. Thus in Citizen Science, Irwin 
posits the notion of an 'active' rather than a 'passive' 
public: of a public engaged with, and (using familiar 
metaphors and heuristics) knowledgeable about the 
scientific and technological world about them. As he 
puts it: 
[T]he assumption that. . . people are a mere 
tabula rasa is not only sociologically 
inaccurate but it also serves as an obstacle 
to social learning on all sides (including, 
very importantly, the lessons which industry 
might learn from critical local scrutiny) (Op 
Cit, p. 92). 
Interestingly, Irwin's fieldwork confirmed not only the 
notion of an 'active', risk-conscious public, but also 
the public's sensitivity to the important economic role 
of industry: 
[I] t seem [ed] nonsensical to most local people 
to debate the hazards of the local chemical 
industry without considering the consequences 
of closure for local jobs. . . This 
is clear in 
one characteristic exchange between two 
residents: 
'I would say most people around here worry 
about the Aniline [a chemical plant]. ' 
'If Clayton Aniline shut down it would be a 
99 
bloody ghost town around here. ' (p. 94) 
It would be wrong to assume, however, that the majority 
within economically hard pressed communities are always 
so circumspect about the economic role of industry in 
the life of a community. In 1993, for example, "The 
residents of Kettleman City, Calif., most of whom are 
hispanic [and therefore relatively impoverished], won a 
court judgement that has at least temporarily blocked 
plans for the incinerator in their San Joaquin Valley 
town, which is already the site of a vast toxic-waste 
landfill" ('Feeling Pollution's Burden, Minorities Try 
Civil Rights Tack', The New York Times, January 11, 
1993). 
Of course, in this case, the opposition of a poor 
community to a new enterprise may have been influenced 
not just by assessments of risk, but also by a number of 
'negative' economic factors pertaining to the technology 
in question, and by certain social practices: Firstly, 
incinerator plants (and landfills) employ relatively few 
people; Secondly, most jobs are low paid; Thirdly, most 
jobs are semi- or unskilled; Fourthly, due to racially 
discriminatory employment practices, even the few jobs 
available may have gone to non-Hispanic residents; And 
lastly, even such an economically 'useless' enterprise 
would affect land and property values. 
The case of a protest against an MIC plant in Institute, 
West Virginia, provides further evidence that people 
evaluate risks and hazards in their social, economic and 
political context before 'jumping in'. In 1985,300 
100 
residents from the mostly black town of Institute 
marched on the neighbouring MIC plant to demand safety 
assurances. While influenced by the risk presented by 
the plant, those who marched were no doubt also 
influenced by the plant's evasion of vital local taxes 
(this having been fixed by County officials), and the 
fact that it employed very few black people. And those 
few blacks who did find jobs at the plant were employed 
only in the most menial positions. Thus, given that the 
black community derived few economic benefits from the 
plant, it is unsurprising that they marched. (Bullard, 
R. D., Dumping in Dixie, Westview Press, US, 1990, p. 64). 
Similar dynamics can be seen to operate in environmental 
disputes in Britain. In Port Talbot, South Wales, for 
example, a 1993 plan to erect 66 wind turbines on a hill 
above the steel town met with strong opposition. 
Although people were no doubt reacting against the 
visual disamenity of the project, they may also have 
been unhappy about the fact that the development would 
have provided few - if any - jobs for locals (South 
Wales Evening Post, December 21,1993). 
There is also some evidence that, even when communities 
derive significant economic benefit from potentially 
hazardous industries, residents are willing to take both 
covert and overt action against polluters. As one US 
newspaper has observed, "The new [environmental] 
protesters include many from the working class in 
addition to more affluent people who can afford to live 
farther away" ('Grass Roots Groups Show Power Battling 
101 
Pollution Close To Home', The New York Times, July 2, 
1989) In Galveston, Texas, for example, a local 
environmental group has been pleasantly surprised by the 
support and help it has received from oil workers. As 
one of the group's organisers explains: 
Our proudest achievement... is that we cracked 
the wall between environmentalists and 
workers, because now workers are calling all 
the time to tell us what is going on inside 
their plants (Ibid). 
Even the union local recognises a change in workers' 
attitudes towards environmental hazards. As one 
Louisiana activist put it: 
There's a lot of soul-searching going on among 
the people who work in the petrochemical 
industry. There are loyalties that are 
becoming divided over time (Ibid). 
It would be wrong, however, to read too much into such 
developments. As one Galveston activist put it, even in 
this 'enlightened' oil town, "When the air stinks, they 
still think its the smell of jobs and money" (Ibid). 
Likewise, in the Kanawha Valley many (mostly white) 
residents consider the MIC plant to represent the "Sight 
and smell of money". Without such plants, they say, the 
Kanawha would become a "Ghost valley" (Bullard, Op Cit, 
p. 62). 
Given the above, one might reasonably conclude that a 
full understanding of the social construction and 
negotiation of environmental risks and hazards can only 
be achieved if they are seen in their social, economic 
and political context. 
102 
There is little doubt that the political economy of a 
community will have at least some influence on the 
public's perception of risks and hazards. Economic needs 
and wants do have at least the potential to affect (if 
not determine) both risk perception and subsequent 
behaviour. As one social psychologist has put it; 
Within the present economic system, many 
conclude that elimination of pollution may be 
accompanied by reduction of economic security, 
particularly job security. Such worries are 
particularly compelling to those of low social 
status who lack the financial and personal 
resources needed to absorb sudden shifts in 
industries in a particular area" (Francis, 
R. S., 'Attitudes Toward Industrial Pollution, 
Strategies for Protecting the Environment, and 
Environmental-Economic Trade-offs', Journal of 
Applied Social Psychology, US, 1983,13,4, 
p. 326). 
As mentioned above, the interplay of environmental and 
economic concerns in poorer 'working class' communities 
has been noted by Irwin (1995). Thus, in his study of 
two heavily industrialised and predominantly working 
class communities in the north of England, Irwin noted 
that; 
Pollution is at least a sign of industrial 
activity - and there is little enthusiasm for 
a pollution-free, but socially devastated, 
local environment (Op Cit, p. 94). 
Such emotions were exhibited by the residents of 
Motherwell in relation to the Ravenscraig steel plant. 
As Deborah Orr recalled of the day in 1996 when the 
plant was demolished; 
On Sunday [July 28] the towers were blown 
103 
up... People are generally fascinated by big 
demolitions, but it was terrible to see this 
one... Thousands looked on in disbelief and 
wonder. Men looked grim and women sobbed (Op 
Cit, p. 12) 
Motherwell was a steel town. The plant was as much a 
part of the community as its pubs, churches and chapels. 
But more than this, to some inhabitants of Motherwell 
the Ravenscraig steel plant was a thing of beauty: 
Sometimes, turning a corner or reaching the 
brow of a hill, the huge industrial complex in 
the heart of the town would spread out before 
us, stretching to the horizon. That filthy, 
black, steam-soaked, smoke-belching sprawl 
should have been ugly. Instead, it was 
overwhelming, beautiful. In the summer, when 
we drove back from holidays... we'd cheer when 
we saw the towers from the M74 (Op Cit, p. 12) 
But how can a sprawling, belching steel plant inspire 
affection? Perhaps because, for all its unpleasantness 
and danger, it was the best chance the people of 
Motherwell had of maintaining their economic 
independence, and with it a degree of pride-in-self. It 
was, despite the toll it exacted from the people and 
their environment, a benefactor. 
Economic security is a major theme of working class 
life. In his research into the mores and priorities of 
the French working class, De Angelis noted the 
preoccupation of blue collar workers with 'monetary 
worries' (generated by poor renumeration and inflation). 
Only a few were concerned about issues not of 'direct 
personal relevance'. Such issues included pollution. The 
French working class assumed an "Essentially passive, 
consumer role in society and politics" (Op Cit, p. 146), 
104 
and looked to others, especially politicians, to problem 
solve. De Angelis summarised this philosophy as follows: 
Their view is that of critical and passive 
consumers of solutions, not that of active and 
responsible policy makers or participants in 
the political process. They assume a necessary 
and useful division of labour; those paid to 
find solutions should do so, as everyone else 
has his own job to do (Op Cit, p. 148). 
The key word here is 'necessary'. Quite simply, the 
majority of those who had no choice but to labour long 
hours under physically trying conditions often did not 
have the energy to take up extra-mural activities. 
Furthermore, due to a relative lack of education and/or 
personal skills, they often did not have the confidence 
to get involved in political activity. Thus, "Life, 
because it [had] not been easy... made them wary, 
conventional, materialistic, defensive, 
realistic/pessimistic, proud of their capacity for 
endurance, and aware of their limitations (personal and 
social) (Op Cit, p. 146). 
The possibility of being overwhelmed by the complexity 
of modern life has been noted by Milbrath, who implies 
that even the educated and urbane stand little chance of 
understanding the modern world: 
Modern society is so complicated and crowded 
that it is difficult for most people to 
achieve a satisfactory level of personal fate 
control. . . 
Many people have a sense of losing, 
or of already having lost, control of their 
lives. They perceive that they are buffeted 
and controlled by forces that they cannot 
understand and that they have no hope of 
influencing [My emphasis] (Milbrath, L. W., 
Environmentalists: Vanguard for a New Society, 
SUNY Press, US, 1984, p. 11) 
105 
Assuming the above to be an accurate reflection of 
reality, it is unsurprising that few working class 
people are prepared to risk hard-won economic gains by 
dissipating their energies on problems that are either 
incomprehensible and/or are not seen to be of direct 
relevance. For the majority, such 'abstract' concerns 
would include environmental issues. While blue collar 
workers may have been aware of such 'esoteric' matters 
as ozone depletion, they chose to focus their energies 
on matters that were easily comprehensible and 
(potentially) amenable to solution - wage levels, 
prices, etc. Thus in the case of the blue collar workers 
observed by De Angelis, 'ignorance' of certain matters 
proved expedient. Ignorance of environmental debates 
enabled energies to be focused on issues that were 
perceived to be of more immediate concern. (It should be 
noted that research by Dunlap and Mertig in the United 
States contradicts the view that blue collar workers are 
relatively indifferent to environmental questions. Thus 
Dunlap and Mertig conclude that "The rapid increase in 
the number... of local grassroots 
organisations ... 
(concerned with] hazards that pose a 
threat to health" has made it more likely that blue- 
collar workers will become involved in risk debates 
(Dunlap, R. E., and Mertig, A. G., 'The Evolution of the 
U. S. Environmental Movement from 1970 to 1990: An 
Overview', in Dunlap and Mertig (Eds) American 
Environmentalism, Taylor and Francis, US, 1992, p. 6)). 
Such 'discourses of ignorance' have been noted by Mike 
106 
Michael in relation to (British) workers' knowledge of, 
and concern about scientific hazards. Thus in his study 
of Sellafield workers, Michael noted that electricians 
often denied themselves knowledge of such 'extraneous' 
matters as radiation as a means of focusing as sharply 
as possible on the job in hand. As one (female) 
electrician put it; 
People.. . 
don't have to know too much, you've 
got to trust someone somewhere... If people 
knew too much, they would panic in an 
emergency because they know just how dangerous 
it really was (Ignoring Science: Discourses of 
Ignorance in the Public Understanding of 
Science, (paper), University of Lancaster, 
p. 18 ). 
Thus, 'ignorance' is not always dysfunctional. In 
certain circumstances, it can be both functional and 
productive. As Michael puts it: 
In some cases scientific knowledge is 
bracketed, ignored, jettisoned or avoided 
because it is essentially peripheral to, or 
may even obscure, the real issue. Here, 
'ignorance' is constructed as a deliberate 
choice (Ibid, p. 19). 
(Michael's paper 'Ignoring Science: Discourses of 
Ignorance in the Public Understanding of Science' is 
summarised in Irwin, A. and Wynne, B., (Eds), 
Misunderstanding Science? The Public Reconstruction of 
Science and Technology, Cambridge University Press, 
Britain, 1996). 
Like Mike Michael's subjects, the French blue collar 
workers studied by De Angelis chose to remain ignorant 
of matters that might divert attention and energies from 
107 
their most pressing concerns. Their ignorance was a 
reasoned - and, in the circumstances, reasonable - 
choice. 
There is some evidence of a negative correlation between 
poverty and concern 'for environmental risk and hazard. 
That is, the poorer the community, the more concerned it 
will become with economic security in relation to 
personal and general environmental hazard. As a 
prominent public health official in "One of the poorest 
and most devastated African-American neighbourhoods in 
the United States... [where] people hold their families 
and lives together with faith and a prayer", has put it; 
Unemployment ... 
is the greatest public health 
problem (Rosen, R., 'Who Gets Polluted? ', 
Dissent, US, Spring 1994, p. 223). 
Thus there is evidence that, in the poorest communities 
(at least as far as the American experience goes) 
environmental disamenity is given a very low priority 
alongside the - as Schneider puts it - "More immediate 
public health threats (of]... AIDS, drugs, violence, 
sexually transmitted diseases, and infant mortality" 
(Schneider, D., 'Low Priorities for Black American 
Leaders: Environmental and Occupational Health', The 
Environmentalist, Volume 13 (1993), Number 1, p. 44). 
(While Schneider does not list unemployment and/or low 
incomes, one may reasonably conclude that many of the 
social problems he does mention are at least partly 
rooted in economic factors). Thus the "State of prosaic 
meliorism" (Op Cit, p. 150) noted by De Angelis amongst 
108 
the French working class would appear to characterise 
the outlook of the American working class. As the Sierra 
Club Bulletin noted in 1977: 
Often, residents of the inner city regard 
"ecology" as too esoteric and remote a 
concern; they are -too caught up in the daily 
struggle for more basic needs (Fertig, R. D., 
'The Environment, the Economy and the 
Excluded', Sierra Club Bulletin, Summer, 1977, 
p. 47). 
As the poorest communities are often minority 
communities, the attitudes of black community leaders 
towards environmental questions are especially germane. 
Despite heroic efforts on the part of black (and white) 
environmental and occupational health advocates, black 
community leaders refuse to give environmental health 
priority over other 'more pressing' issues: 
Environmental and occupational health 
objectives hold relatively low priorities for 
black American leaders... Rather than 
concentrating on public health objectives that 
they view as having little chance for 
improvement, black leaders are focusing on 
more immediate and devastating health threats 
to the black community. For environmental and 
occupational health advocates... this means 
that alliances with black leadership might 
prove difficult to forge because of competing 
priorities (Ibid, p. 45). 
The attitudes of (most) black leaderships both reflect 
and influence the primarily socio-economic and political 
concerns of black communities. Indeed, such is the 
preoccupation of black communities with the political 
and economic, that even where respected minority leaders 
call for community action on a proven environmental 
hazard, the response is often muted. In Laidlaw, 
109 
Cleveland, for example, despite widespread concern about 
a waste incinerator, very public expressions of concern 
by Cleveland's black senator, and strenuous efforts to 
involve blacks in the fight to close the facility, the 
mostly black residents of the public housing project 
situated 'just a few' blocks away' from the plant could 
not be roused (Schwab, J., 'Blue-Collar Groups are 
Saying, 'Not in our Backyard", Planning, October, 1991, 
US, p. 8). In contrast, the mostly middle class residents 
of a suburb downwind, but some distance from the 
incinerator, formed their own group and were vigorous in 
lobbying for its closure. 
At the very least, such episodes demonstrate how work 
hazards and general environmental threats are evaluated 
in a wider socio-economic context. That is, the public's 
position on environmental risk and hazard is a 
negotiated position. Social constructions of risk and 
hazard reflect and are accommodated within a socio- 
economic context. Consequently, there can be no 
absolute, universally applicable definition of the Risk 
Society. Rather, there are 'risk communities' 
constituted through subjective assessment of 
environmental and socio-economic risks and hazards. 
But even this may be something of an over- 
simplification. Thus, taking up the tool of 
deconstruction yet again, it can be seen that risk 
communities are themselves composed o f myriad, often 
highly individu alistic - indeed, som etimes counter- 
intuitive - risk assessments. Take, for example, another 
interviewee in the GMLPU survey. In 1995, 'Barbara' 
110 
earned under £80 a week as a van driver collecting waste 
cellulose solvent. The drums would fall over and leak. 
It was "All very, very dangerous". On one occasion she 
suffered serious bruising when the drums were catapulted 
to the front of the van in an accident. Yet she stuck 
the job "Because I'm out, there's nobody bothering me" 
(Op Cit, p. 24). Therefore it can be seen that within a 
'risk community' there may be numerous individual 
reasons (or combinations of reasons) for risk acceptance 
(or rejection), from naked deference, to fear of 
unemployment, to job satisfaction, to personal 
friendships to brute ignorance. 
However, despite the essentially subjective and locally 
constituted character of environmental risk assessment, 
'universal environmental truths' are still 
enthusiastically promoted by activists, public 
officials, labour unions and others. In the States, the 
process has forged some unlikely alliances, such as that 
between environmentalists and the Oil, Chemical and 
Atomic Workers Union. Thus, in the 1980s, an alliance of 
environmentalists and OCAW members, pursuing the union's 
national "Jobs and Environment' curriculum", forced a 
BASF plant in Louisiana to undertake environmental 
improvements and end a lockout of workers ('Jobs and the 
Environment, American-style', The Daily Hazard, London 
Hazards Centre, September 1995, p. 2). 
Such (not insignificant) victories should, however, be 
seen in the context of the massive economic (and 
political) power of modern corporations. Corporations so 
111 
powerful that in the September 1992 'European currency 
skirmish', according to one commentator, "The global 
corporate sector, hard-pressed to generate profits by 
normal trading, stole billions of pounds from the UK 
Treasury, by simple extortion" (Evans, R. W., Coming to 
Terms - Corporations' and the Left, Institute for Public 
Policy Research, Britain, 1992, p. 4). 
The capacity of the modern transnational to influence 
both the macro economic and political agenda, and the 
decisions of individual workers and workers' families 
(see Chomsky, above), should not be underestimated. As 
C. Wright Mills, speaking about the American experience 
of corporate influence, noted as long ago as 1956: 
The economy - once a great scatter of small 
productive units in autonomous balance - has 
become dominated by two or three hundred 
interrelated corporations, which together hold 
the keys to economic decisions [My emphasis] 
(Kazis and Grossman, Op Cit, p. 54) 
Some of the American corporations who 'hold the keys to 
economic decisions' can influence the policies not just 
of their own government, but also of foreign 
governments. In 1995, for example, the Ford Motor 
Corporation threatened to build the next new Jaguar 
model in the United States (Ford having purchased 
Jaguar some time previously) unless the British 
Government offered a major aid package. Ford were 
subsequently offered £80 million to keep Jaguar 
production in the United Kingdom. Six thousand skilled 
British jobs were directly at steak, not to mention 
thousands more in sub-contracting and support companies 
112 
(The Evening Standard, November 10,1995). Colin Leys, 
Professor of Politics at Queen's University, Toronto, 
calls this kind of corporate leverage 'regulatory 
arbitrage': 
The way multinational companies [MNCs] 
constrain national governments... is through 
'regulatory arbitrage', which means shopping 
among countries to get the best overall 
package of conditions before making an 
investment: the lowest corporate taxes, the 
weakest unions, the most 'flexible' rules on 
working conditions, the most lax health and 
safety regulations. Some of what MNCs want 
they press for; some of it is offered them, 
before they even ask, by governments competing 
for investment (Red Pepper, June, 1996, p. 5) 
According to the Left, then, the power of the 
agglomerating transnationals is magnified through the 
(more or less) global acquiescence of politicians and 
bureaucrats in the capitalistic project ('The New 
Globalism: Multinationals Take Control', The New 
Internationalist, No. 246, August, 1993). As Kazis and 
Grossman explain, "Government officials know there is 
more practical political advantage in doing favours for 
people with clout than for the weak, unorganised and 
disenfranchised" (Op Cit, p. 54). Politicians, for their 
part, largely accept the corporate agenda, namely the 
husbanding of economic growth and maintenance of profit 
margins for the purpose of meeting dividend and 
'investment' targets: 
There is a core to our politics, a sort of 
agreement or 'hidden consensus' to which most 
politicians adhere. Politicians measure most 
issues by how they affect economic growth... 
What counts now is the latest growth 
statistics, what the stock market is doing, 
whether the pound and dollar are rising or 
falling and what the first quarter profit 
113 
statement says ('Everything Under Control', 
The New Internationalist, No. 146, April, 1985, 
P. 9) 
The economic 'core' to our politics has found recent 
expression in Britain in the return to economic 
Butskellism. Thus today, both the Conservative Party, 
and its electoral 'alternative', the Labour Party, lay 
claim to such titles as 'The party of economic growth', 
or 'The party of business' ('Mr Blair Feeds The Tigers', 
The Guardian, January 6,1996; 'Blair Uses New Labour 
Approach To Woo Business', Western Mail, September 5, 
1996). As a former adviser to New Labour has put it, 
"Labour's objectives are the economic text book troika 
of growth, full employment and low inflation... The 
leadership's basic framework is acceptance of the 
dominance of the economy by private capital... It assumes 
that the British people, to earn their crust, have no 
choice but to take their chance in the swirling 
competitive cauldron of global markets" (Red Pepper, 
October, 1995, p. 12). According to those on the Left, 
'taking a chance in the swirling competitive cauldron of 
global markets' means accepting "The insecurity and 
employer arrogance of today's workplaces", an arrogance 
attributable in part to the increasing antipathy of both 
major political parties towards the trades unions 
(Milne, S., 'Unions Kept Out In The Cold', The Guardian, 
September 4,1996; Grice, A., Blair Runs Short Of 
Brotherly Love, The Sunday Times, September 15,1996), 
It should be noted, however, that it is not just the 
Left that accuses politicians of prostituting themselves 
114 
to international capital. Even the conservative Social 
Market Foundation (SMF), for example, has arrived at 
(more or less) the same conclusion. Thus, in The Undoing 
of Conservatism, John Gray talks about '[T]he desolation 
of communities by unchannelled market forces", and the 
adoption by conservative-minded politicians of "[T]he 
United States [as] the tacit or explicit model [where] 
all other values have been sacrificed for the sake of 
micro-economic flexibility, productivity and low labour 
costs" (Gray, J., The Undoing of Conservatism, SMF, 
Britain, 1994, p. 9 and p. 19). 
A former U. S. Under-Secretary of State summarised the 
global hegemony of the market and the preeminent 
position of the transnationals in the following terms: 
Working through great corporations that 
straddle the earth, men are able for the first 
time to utilize world resources with an 
efficiency dictated by the objective logic of 
profit (Weir, D., The Bhopal Syndrome, 
Earthscan, Britain, 1987, p. 130). 
According to this seasoned observer of the political 
scene, the nation-state "Is a very old-fashioned idea 
and badly adapted to our present complex world" (Ibid). 
If business choices are indeed dictated by the 
objective logic of profit', if the large corporations 
'hold the keys to economic decisions', if companies can 
manipulate local (and national) populations with 
promises of jobs or the threat of layoffs, short time 
working or unemployment, and if the nation state is no 
more than an anachronistic impediment to the 'efficient 
utilization of world resources', then what chance do 
115 
governments, bureaucrats or workers have of persuading 
companies to behave in a socially (and environmentally) 
responsible manner? While the 1995 decision of Royal 
Dutch/Shell not to dump its Brent Spar oil storage 
platform at sea was influenced by a sustained campaign 
by environmentalists ('Rubber Suits Turn The Tide For 
Greenpeace', Financial Times, June 21,1995), how many 
other major corporate decisions have been influenced by 
sub-political activism? Many corporate (and supporting 
political) decisions are taken without the public ever 
hearing about them. Beck himself highlights this trend 
with his analysis of the sub-politics of scientific and 
technological innovation (see Chapter 1). 
According to some, the public is further disempowered by 
a sensationalist, trivialising and myopic media. (While 
the media's frivolity may be due in large part to the 
money to be made out of the lowest common denominators 
of public taste - celebrity, Royalty, money and sex - it 
also reflects the tradition of non-disclosure and 
secrecy in British politics and public administration. 
Thus, "The trivialisation practised by much of our press 
is a direct function of its inability to tackle more 
serious and challenging issues in the face of a battery 
of legal controls upon its ability to report issues" 
(Taking Liberties - Civil Liberties and the Criminal 
Justice Act, New Statesman and Society, Britain, 1995, 
p. 4)). The particularism of the media denies the public 
a clear view of the world about it. Disheartened, many 
simply surrender to the (presumed) benign judgement of 
the politician, technocrat or company board: 
116 
News and current affairs reporting deals with 
events in isolation. There is little attempt 
to give the reader/viewer a context so that he 
or she can identify patterns or understand the 
social forces behind management decisions... 
The reader/viewer is presented with a 
kaleidoscope of isolated fragments of news 
'reality' that dance beyond their 
understanding ... The 
public is left bewildered 
- easy prey for more partisan messages that 
simplify reality and limit understanding 
('Everything Under Control', Op Cit). 
A patronised public comes to the inevitable conclusion: 
"The world seems too confusing - better let experts 
interpret it for us" ('Everything Under Control', Op 
Cit). This, of course, was the conclusion arrived at by 
De Angelis from his studies of the French working class 
(see above). 
In addition to such powerful influences, workers and 
their families face other, rather more subtle, 
pressures. It is often difficult, for example, to face 
up to the possibility that a source of prosperity - and 
possibly, also, of personal and/or family pride - may be 
a threat to personal and/or family health. At Love 
Canal, for example, "Some [residents] felt inhibited in 
admitting even to themselves that chemicals, the source 
of. their livelihood, could be causing them personal 
problems" (Levine, A., Love Canal: Science, Politics and 
People, Lexington Books, US, 1982, p. 194). Public 
reaction was constrained and conditioned by the 
perception of chemical companies both as "Knowledgeable 
authorities" and as "Forces to be reckoned with" (Ibid). 
(Similar inhibitions were displayed by the inhabitants 
of Motherwell, for despite the immediate physical, and 
117 
general environmental threat posed by the Ravenscraig 
plant, most people were opposed to its closure on 
economic grounds). 
The public perception of chemical hazard at Love Canal 
may have been affected by other factors. It was found, 
for example, that some of the 'renters' (residents of 
the LaSalle 'project' housing) were relatively 
unconcerned about the possibility of chemical 
contamination. This lack of concern may have reflected 
the absence of a personal financial stake in the home, 
or the fact that as temporary residents- they had 
suffered less exposure to chemicals; It may have had 
something to do with their benefit-dependency: As Levine 
postulates in Love Canal, "Many tenants depended on 
public assistance and thus hesitated to complain about 
anything the government was involved in... " (Op Cit, 
p. 197). (It should be noted that such 'deference', far 
from being 'natural', reflected a sophisticated 
evaluation of personal circumstance and power); It may 
have reflected the fact that their inadequate economic, 
political and/or personal resources compromised their 
physical mobility. This might have persuaded some that 
the most expedient course of action was to keep quiet 
for as long as possible; It may have reflected personal 
alienation, perhaps caused by unsympathetic authorities, 
or a lack of personal confidence, perhaps due to 
educational under-achievement. Personal confidence and a 
sense of belonging are vital prerequisites to 
participation in any campaign; Or it may have reflected 
their strong desire to escape the 'social' hazards of 
118 
the ghetto (the majority of the LaSalle residents were 
black), like drugs, violence, police harassment and 
disease: 
Although there were drawbacks to the LaSalle 
project, many believed it was the best public 
housing project in the city, with roomy 
apartments, located in a suburban-like 
atmosphere, with good schools, and without the 
social hazards of many inner-city 
neighbourhoods (Ibid, p. 197). 
Generally, economic disadvantage is a powerful tool of 
social control where questions of environmental health 
and amenity are raised. As Bullard notes: 
The application of economic trade-offs 
in... environmental conflict continues to 
generate a wide range of discussion. This is 
especially true for poor communities that are 
beset with rising unemployment, extreme 
poverty, a shrinking tax base, and decaying 
business infrastructure (Bullard, Op Cit, 
P. 90). 
And who can blame the poor and disadvantaged for trading 
a measure of environmental disamenity against the 
prospect of work (even poorly paid work) and the self- 
respect that comes with financial independence? Indeed, 
who can blame the poor for trading environmental 
disamenity against the prospect of escape from more 
pressing social ills, like street violence and a drug 
economy (as with the 'renters' of Love Canal)? 
The desire for self-respect is a powerful motivator of 
human behaviour. As contemporary research demonstrates, 
British workers are prepared to take on the most menial, 
most de-skilled and poorly paid jobs just so they can 
119 
preserve a modicum of independence and dignity. As one 
of the interviewees in the GMLPU survey put it: 
Last week I brought home a hundred and 
thirteen pounds and twenty four pence 
(October, 1995 wage levels apply] .I would get 
more on benefit, a lot more, about twenty to 
twenty five quid more. It's the pleasure of 
getting up and knowing I am going out to work 
for eight hours ... I enjoy working 
actually... I'd never go back on the dole 
again. I found it really degrading. I don't 
see why you should have to beg f or anything 
(Op Cit, p. 13/15) 
This GMLPU interviewee was married with four children. 
The Joseph Rowntree Foundation, in its June, 1996 
research project entitled Life on a Low Income, noted 
the same desire to work amongst Britain's citizens: 
Most people view a job as the only way they 
can secure an adequate income. The research 
makes it clear that they do not want to be 
dependent on the state and would prefer to 
provide for themselves and their families 
through a 'living wage'. Many go to great 
lengths to find a job, especially if they are 
the main breadwinner (Findings, no. 97, p. 3). 
Some American research has demonstrated a direct 
correlation between poverty and tolerance of pollution. 
In Houston's Northwood Manor neighbourhood, for example, 
only 23% of the residents of this relatively prosperous 
suburb agreed with the statement 'We should think of 
jobs first and environment second'. However, in West 
Dallas, "An economically impoverished neighbourhood 
located in the growth-driven Dallas-Fort Worth 
Metroplex", over 67% of the residents believed jobs to 
be more important than the environment (Bullard, Op Cit, 
p. 93) . 
There is little doubt that the economic disparity 
120 
between West Dallas residents and their hugely 
prosperous neighbours had at least some effect on their 
perception and tolerance of industrial risks and 
hazards. 
In Britain, the jobs-environment trade-off is promoted - 
albeit subtly - by the trade union movement. Thus while 
the TUC, for example, agrees that "Pollution is no 
longer an acceptable by-product of industrial growth" 
('Industry, Jobs and Environmental Challenge', TUC, May 
1991, p. 1), it is nevertheless wary of the effect 
environmental regulation might have on jobs and economic 
growth: 
The labour market implications of 
environmental policies are a prime concern of 
trade unions... [T]he TUC believes that 
sustainable development cannot be achieved 
unless employment is well founded and secure. 
Failure to fully take on board employment and 
training considerations in the formation of 
environmental policies will not only 
exacerbate job losses, but spur resistance to 
change ... 
(Ibid, p. 18). 
As far as the TUC is concerned, the economic imperative 
is still a powerful influence on public opinion - 
especially in deprived areas: 
There is evidence that in areas of high 
unemployment ... the willingness 
to put 
environmental concerns before job creation is 
weaker than elsewhere ('TUC Congress 1989: 
Towards a Charter for the Environment', TUC, 
August 1989, p. 4). 
Recognising the realpolitik of its members' opinions - 
if not of the British public as a whole - the TUC 
advocates 'improvement through growth': 
121 
The TUC believes that the low growth and no 
growth options offer no solution to 
environmental problems... Growth and 
technological progress are necessary if 
environmental problems are to be effectively 
tackled while sustaining full employment 
(Ibid, p. 4/5). 
The perceived divergence of economic and environmental 
interests have been noted in other countries. In both 
Germany and America, for example, "Labor and 
environmentalists ... 
have 
... widely 
disagreed on pertinent 
employment, environmental and energy related issues" 
(Siegmann, H., The Conflicts Between Labour and 
Environmentalism in the Federal Republic of Germany and 
the United States, Gower, Aldershot, Britain, 1985, 
p. 1). Such disagreements may be rooted in, for example, 
socio-economic or ideological differences. As Siegmann 
explains: 
Given the socio-economic differences of the 
two movements, labor is seen as functioning as 
the protector of the economic underdogs 
seeking to gain more economic equity. 
Environmentalists, on the other hand, are 
depicted as the defenders of the economic 
status-quo who - being higher up on the 
economic ladder - are inclined and can afford 
to protect their environment, their "private 
idyll". 
A second version of this explanation 
argues that the labor-environmentalist 
conflict basically is one between "old" and 
"new" politics. According to Inglehart (1977 
and 1979), those engaging in "old" politics 
tend to view the world in "materialist" terms 
and emphasize representation-based political 
activities. "New" politics, on the other hand, 
are governed by "post-materialist" values and 
entail direct-political activities. Labor, 
in this view, perceives the 
employment/environment problem basically as 
one aligned along a socio-economic left-right 
dimension while environmentalism approaches it 
in "new politics" or lifestyle terms (Ibid, 
p. S). 
122 
Whatever the causes of the rift between organised labour 
(and, presumably to some degree, workers' families and 
acquaintances) and environmentalists, the divergence of 
interests has sometimes found dramatic expression. In 
Germany in the 1970s, for example, there were violent 
confrontations over nuclear energy policy: 
In late 1976, a large demonstration-opposing 
the nuclear power plant to be constructed near 
the village of Brokdorf... received national 
attention... The Brokdorf protests triggered a 
counterdemonstration of 7,000 employees of the 
Kraftwerk Union (Ibid, p. 16). 
While the 1980s saw a 'rapprochement' (Ibid, p. 20) 
between environmentalists and trade unionists in 
Germany, the new relationship may have reflected not so 
much an ideological reconciliation, as a practical 
political solution to the SPD's electoral demise and 
high and persistent unemployment. In this context, an 
electoral pact with the Greens and the prospect of new 
jobs being created in environmental protection may have 
persuaded the working population to (temporarily) 
abandon their distrust of middle class post-materialists 
(Ibid, p. 21). 
3 Conclusion. 
A consideration of the socio-economic context of the 
Risk Society thesis - as advanced by Beck, Giddens and 
other notables - is essential to a full understanding of 
late-modernity. 
123 
It is difficult to believe that such a phenomenon as the 
Risk Society can exist - or be thought to exist - in an 
economic vacuum. And yet, in Risk Society, Beck avoids a 
detailed examination of the political economy of late 
modernity. Instead we are asked to believe the 
essentially 'post-materialist' character of (First 
World) late modernity, the 'democratisation' of 
environmental hazard, the general and growing 
'reflexivity' of its inhabitants, and, despite the 
apparent resurgence of religious and secular 
fundamentalisms, the 'de-traditionalisation' of society. 
Such generalisations, although thought-provoking, tend 
to obscure the myriad compromises, rationalisations and 
accommodations that many people are obliged to make to 
get through their lives, for, as Wynne explains, "In the 
real world people have to reconcile or adapt to living 
with contradictions around them which are not 
necessarily within their control to dissolve" [My 
emphasis] (Op Cit, p. 15). What the Risk Society thesis 
overlooks is the complex and often contradictory 
character of life as it is lived. But then, as Goethe 
explains in Faust, this is the Achilles heel of all 
grand theory: 
All theory, dear friend, is grey, but the 
golden tree of actual life springs ever green. 
The growth of personal and general societal reflexivity 
is a momentous development. Yet, one cannot help 
wondering what effect the perennial socio-economic 
imperative of having to put bread on the table has on 
124 
these novel phenomena. At the very least it can be 
assumed that such phenomena are experienced and lived 
differentially. The socio-economic climate will at least 
influence - if not determine - each subjective 
experience of the various 'liberations' and 
'revelations' of late modernity. While socio-economic 
circumstance may not determine consciousness, our 
ability to indulge the new freedoms may well be subject 
to necessitous economic calculation. While unglamorous, 
the holistic view at least reflects the realpolitik of a 
significant portion of the population of the First 
World, and certainly the experience of the populations 
of the Second and Third Worlds. 
As our opinions and actions are at least influenced - if 
not in certain circumstances determined - by economic 
and/or social circumstance, it would appear prudent to 
introduce a socio-economic dimension to any analysis of 
our 'Risk Society'. 
To ask the question 'What risks in whose risk society? ' 
is not to debunk the contribution made by Beck, Giddens 
and others to our understanding of late modernity. 
Rather it is to provide for a more textured 
understanding of contemporary preoccupations, actions 
and inactions. 
125 
Chapter 3 
The Study Area: The Physical, 
Social and Economic, and Environmental History 
of Sands End. 
1 Introduction. 
The study area, the Fulham neighbourhood (and electoral 
ward) of Sands End, is located in the London Borough of 
Hammersmith and Fulham, in West London. 
Fulham, which from 1899 until 1965, was a Metropolitan 
Borough in its own right, is bounded to the south and 
west by the Thames, to the east by 'Chelsea Creek', and 
to the north by Hammersmith. Fulham's largely Thames- 
defined topography has significantly affected its 
development, as will be shown. 
Much of what is said of Fulham in general is applicable 
to Sands End. The exception is heavy industry, which, as 
the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries unfolded, 
tended to accumulate in Sands End. 
Apart from this industrial gradient, however, all Fulham 
neighbourhoods display a similar topography. The houses, 
mostly constructed during the Nineteenth Century, and 
usually terraced, were built for "Labourers, carpenters, 
railway workers and market gardeners" (Mooney, B., 'When 
Fashion Moves In, Brown Paint and Memories Go', The 
Telegraph Magazine, January 7,1972, p. 19). 
It will be shown below that the social and economic 
complexion of Fulham has changed significantly over the 
126 
years. 
The history of Sands End will be traced under three 
headings; Firstly, the neighbourhood's physical growth 
will be described; Secondly, Sands End's social and 
economic development will be traced, and thirdly, its 
inhabitants' familiarity with and reaction to local 
environmental disamenity will be described. This 
approach is intended to explore how the history of Sands 
End may have influenced the terms of the debate over the 
demolition of Fulham Power Station. It is premised in 
the belief that a risk debate cannot be fully understood 
unless it is seen in its historic and current social, 
economic and political context. 
2A History of Sands End. 
2.1 Physical Development. 
The village of Sands End (meaning the village by the 
sand') became established in the southernmost tip of 
Fulham, near the banks of the Thames, during the mid 
Sixteenth Century. 
The houses of Sands End were built on a bed of sand some 
twenty feet thick, lying on London clay. The village 
stood in the midst of low-lying 'meads' or meadows. The 
meads supported a thriving agriculture, with villagers 
exercising Lammas rights (the right to graze cattle) 
until the partitioning and fencing of land restricted 
access. Gradually, extensive market gardens were 
established on the meads, which, at their height 
supplied almost half of the capital's fruit and 
127 
vegetables. This thriving horticulture earned the 
neighbourhood the sobriquet 'The Fulham Garden'. 
In 1739, the village of Sands End held a mere 35 
ratepayers (Feret C. J.,. Fulham Old and New - Being an 
Exhaustive History of the Ancient Parish of Fulham. 
Volume 1, The Leadenhall Press, Britain, 1900, p. 268). 
By the time of the first British census in 1801, 
however, Fulham as a whole had some 4,400 inhabitants 
(Hasker L., Hammersmith and Fulham Through 1500 Years - 
A Brief History, Fulham and Hammersmith Historical 
Society, Britain, 1992, p. 35). 
The Sandford Manor Estate, at the eastern edge of Sands 
End, played an important role in introducing industry to 
'Fulham Garden'. In 1762 the manor house and grounds 
were turned over to the production of saltpetre. There 
was a change of use in 1790 when a pottery business was 
established. During the early Nineteenth Century the 
house was used for cask manufacture, employing up to 300 
workers (Denny B., A History of Fulham, Historical 
Publications Ltd., Britain, 1990, p. 87). Thus began the 
industrial phase of the development of Sands End. (The 
location of the manor house, and the topography of Sands 
End at the beginning of the Nineteenth Century, are 
shown on the map reproduced as Appendix 3). 
In 1824, the pace and scale of industrial development in 
Sands End accelerated, when the Sandford Manor Estate 
was bought by the Imperial Gas Light and Coke Company. 
During the Nineteenth Century, "The gas works played an 
important part in the development of this part of 
128 
Fulham" (Ibid, p. 88). At its peak, the works employed 
several hundred people, and was vital to Fulham's 
economy. 
By the end of the Nineteenth Century, Sands End had a 
number of major industries apart from the thriving gas 
works. Kops Brewery, for example, built in 1890 and 
occupying a site of some eight acres adjacent to the 
river, employed 400 workers. As a contemporary historian 
noted: 
The Brewery is a building of commodious 
dimensions... The various departments of this 
huge establishment constitute one of the 
sights of Fulham (Feret, Op Cit, p. 265). 
Further along the river, on the old 'Town Meadows', 
could be found a chemical factory, a tile manufacturer, 
a saw mill and a foundry. Away from the river there was 
a 'mat and basket' factory that harvested the osiers 
still found along the banks of the Thames, and a large 
laundry (on Broughton Road) faced with the locally 
produced glazed tiles. (It should be remembered, 
however, that although the many new enterprises that 
found a home in Sands End during the Nineteenth Century 
were mostly successful, the capital's industries could 
not escape the ravages of the various 'boom-bust' cycles 
of the Victorian era. Thus, "Many of the London trades, 
casual, sweated and economically vulnerable in an age of 
mounting foreign competition, were trades with a high 
incidence of unemployment" (Briggs A., Victorian Cities, 
Pelican, Britain, 1963, p. 328)). 
All these ventures were helped by the gradual 
129 
improvement of transportation links throughout the 
century. In 1859, Parliament authorised the building of 
the West London Extension Railway. The new track 
followed the eastern boundary of Sands End and crossed 
the river to service .a new station at Wandsworth. 
Wandsworth Bridge, built in 1873, provided a new, fast 
approach to the western side of Sands End. To the north- 
the construction of the Metropolitan Line into 
Hammersmith in 1864, and the later extension of the 
District Line to Fulham Broadway, provided further 
impetus to residential and industrial development in 
Sands End. (The impetus given to housing by the 
development of both under- and over-ground railways 
could be seen right across the capital, with the 
extension of the Metropolitan Line exerting a 
particularly strong influence upon residential and 
industrial activity. As Briggs points out, "The slogan 
of the Metropolitan Railway - 'Live in Metroland' - 
showed that it was not so much satisfying existing needs 
as creating new residential districts" (Briggs, Op Cit, 
p. 16)). 
The accelerating industrialisation and urbanisation of 
the Nineteenth Century had a significant effect upon 
both the demography and topography of Sands End. By 
1851, the population of Fulham as a whole numbered 
12,000. In 1881 it was 43,000, and by the 1920s the 
combined population of Fulham and Hammersmith was around 
300,000. After the Second World War, however, the 
population began to decline (Hasker, Op Cit, p. 35). 
130 
These dramatic demographic changes saw the disappearance 
of the once thriving market gardens and vestiges of 
countryside that had given Sands End its unique 
character. In 1900, Charles Feret, 'Fulham's 
chronicler' mourned; "Soon it will no longer be 
possible to stroll out to the country" (Feret, Op Cit, 
p. 82). Sands End had become "'A region of poverty and 
squalor' - this [said] of a place which only fifty years 
earlier had been a pretty riverside mead growing 
watercresses, with cows wading into the stream and no 
more traffic than an occasional cart" (Denny, Op Cit, 
p. 85). Population growth and urbanisation were major 
themes of Nineteenth Century London life, and were much 
commented upon. Henry James, for example, wrote of the 
capital's 'horrible numerosity', while Arthur Sherwell 
in his 1901 work Life in West London "Talked of the 
pathos and remorselessness of growth: 'A city is like a 
great, hungry sea, which flows on and on, filling up 
every creek, and then overspreads its borders, flooding 
the plains beyond" (Sherwell A., in Briggs, Op Cit, 
p. 313). Nevertheless, by the end of the Nineteenth 
Century, London was without doubt a 'world city'. Many 
spoke of 'the great Wen' as 'The world's metropolis'. As 
one (perhaps somewhat Anglophile) American writer put it 
in 1883: 
We may talk of our Western empire and our 
admirable ports, of our growth and our growing 
wealth; but here is and will remain for 
generations, the centre of the commercial and 
political world, the focus of intellectual 
activity and the mint of thought. Here 
ferments the largest and most highly developed 
humanity.. . and here the whole world's 
intellect comes to pay homage (Briggs, Op Cit, 
p. 317). 
131 
There is little doubt that the industries of Sands End 
made a valuable contribution to the economy of 'The 
world's metropolis'. 
2.1.1 Fulham Power Station: Catalyst of Twentieth 
Century Development. 
One of the last major industrial building projects in 
Sands End was the construction by the Metropolitan 
Borough of Fulham of the first Fulham Power Station. 
Having obtained an Electric Lighting Order in 1897, the 
1,000Kw station was opened by the Borough in 1901 ('New 
Power Station At Fulham', The Times, September 3,1936). 
(The first power station is shown on page 21 of the 
booklet Inauguration of the Extension to the Electricity 
Supply Station. See Appendix 4, where the majority of 
the booklet is reproduced). 
The speed with which the newly formed local authority 
built its first power station reflected the general 
inadequacy of the capital's utilities at the end of the 
Nineteenth Century. Such shortcomings were widely 
attributed to the shambolic system of parish councils, 
vestries and lighting, paving and drainage commissions 
that persisted for much of the Victorian period (Fulham 
suffered as much from this system as any other Borough). 
Under this disaggregated and uncoordinated system of 
local government; "No fewer than 250 local Acts of 
Parliament had been passed relating to particular 
districts of London, and 10,000 commissioners were 
132 
exercising varying functions and degrees of authority" 
(Briggs, Op Cit, p. 321). The system was much criticised. 
As the author of Ragged London wrote in 1861,. "The 
metropolis is not managed, not cleansed, not relieved 
from the spectre of starvation which dances before us at 
our doors" (Ibid). 
Although the setting up of the London County Council 
(LCC) in 1888 went some way towards addressing the 
capital's many self-inflicted problems, the 
establishment of 28 Metropolitan Boroughs in 1899 
(including Fulham) provided a powerful local vehicle for 
change. Thus Fulham's first power station, built by and 
for the people of the borough, began its supply in 1901. 
(Interestingly, a few years later a House of Commons 
committee rejected a proposal to build a purely 
commercial station at Battersea "On the grounds that it 
would be too costly and that it would be undesirable to 
pollute London's atmosphere further" (Bowler C., and 
Brimblecombe P., 'Battersea Power Station and 
Environmental Issues 1929-1989', Atmospheric 
Environment, Vol. 25B, No. 1,1991, p. 146). Public 
opposition to Battersea Power Station continued for many 
years. Indeed, the station "Became the centre of 
environmental agitation on a scale more typical of the 
present day than the early 20th century" (Ibid, p. 143)). 
During its comparatively unproblematic lifetime, the 
capacity of the first Fulham Power Station, which 
"Supplied electricity over an area limited by the 
boundary of the Fulham Borough", was increased by some 
2,000%. The first power station was extended in the 
133 
1920s (See Appendix 4). 
The power station was used by the Borough to attract 
industry to the area. Thus in a 1909 publication 
entitled Borough of Fulham, London: Electricity Supply, 
the local authority talked of "The many advantages which 
the Borough of Fulham possesses for the establishment of 
Factories and Workshops". Besides plentiful quantities 
of vacant land, Fulham could boast "A reliable supply of 
cheap motive power". The publication talked in glowing 
terms about the first power station : 
The Corporation Electricity Supply is already 
used very considerably by factories and 
workshops in the Borough for power 
purposes. -The Generating Station is equipped 
with modern machinery and is thoroughly up-to- 
date. A cheap and reliable supply of current 
is therefore assured... Charges are practically 
the lowest in London (Ibid, Town Hall, Fulham, 
February, 1909). 
The Borough's residents were also encouraged to 
capitalise on the new facility. In one publicity leaflet 
entitled Have You Electricity In Your Home? (See 
Appendix 5), the Borough of Fulham Electricity 
Department vigorously promoted the 'Council's Lighting 
Scheme'. Not only could the 'Cheap, Clean and Healthy' 
source of power be obtained at 'No initial cost', but 
under the 'Council's Apparatus Scheme', appliances could 
be rented at competitive rates. Another publicity 
booklet, Fulham Corporation Electricity Supply, produced 
in the 1900s, led with the advertisement; 'Metropolitan 
Borough of Fulham Electricity Supply. . .A Better 
Light, A 
Clearer Light, A Cheaper Light'. The booklet, produced 
134 
in a sumptuous art deco style with an attractive deep 
green cover, asked the people of Fulham "To give the 
following particulars their careful attention and 
consideration" (See Appendix 6). The booklet went on to 
extol the virtues of the, new cheap and convenient energy 
supply. Printed on the final page was an application 
form for connection to the system. Clear and brief, the 
form should not have presented any obstacle to the 
aspirant consumer. On completion, it could be torn from 
the booklet along its perforated spine, thereby leaving 
the publication in tact as a souvenir of the enterprise. 
Evidently, much thought went into its design and 
manufacture; evidence, perhaps, of the high esteem in 
which the burghers of Fulham held 'their' power station. 
Consumers of the new power source were helped with such 
guides as How to Read Your Electricity Meter, produced 
in 1924 by the Borough (See Appendix 7). 
As demand grew, so did the marketing effort. Eventually, 
a 10,000 sq. ft. showroom was opened by Fulham's 
Electricity Department ('Electricity Showrooms: Official 
Opening Next Week', The Fulham Chronicle, October 19, 
1928). 
The power station's runaway success prompted the Borough 
to plan an entirely new station on land adjacent to the 
original. Fulham Borough began work in 1932, and the new 
power station, the largest municipally-owned facility in 
Britain, was opened in 1936. This was a proud day indeed 
for the burghers and people of Fulham Borough. The 
opening ceremony, performed by the Mayor, was attended 
135 
by "A large crowd of Fulham citizens, engineers and 
workmen" ('Fulham Power Station: Opening By The Mayor', 
The Times, September 28,1936). Those without 
invitations waited outside the station ('Fulham: 
Britain's Largest Municipally Owned Power Station', The 
Morning Post, September 28,1936) . The ceremony itself 
was an elaborate affair, the programme beginning at 2pm 
at the new station and concluding with 'Tea at Town 
Hall' at 4.30pm (See Appendix 8). During the ceremony, a 
memorial tablet dedicated to those who had built the new 
power station was unveiled. The carved inscription above 
the imposing main door read "Fulham Borough Council, 
Electricity Department" (Denny, Op Cit, p. 85) . 
(A 
contemporary line drawing of the station is reproduced 
as Appendix 9). During the celebratory tea at Fulham 
Town Hall, those who had sponsored the project were 
roundly praised. Lord Greenwood, chairman of one of the 
companies involved in the construction project, heaped 
praise upon all those involved: 
I congratulate you on an achievement that will 
add to the well-being of millions. You have 
here a monument - magnificent and, I think, 
permanent - to the foresight and endurance of 
Fulham Council and Fulham citizens ('Fulham: 
Britain's Largest Municipally Owned Power 
Station', The Morning Post, September 28, 
1936). 
Other speakers were equally enthusiastic, the Vice- 
Chairman of the Electricity Commission, for example, 
seeing in the new power station the re-birth of a spirit 
of Metropolitan entrepreneurship and adventure: 
We Londoners are often accused of having no 
real civic sense-People say we are not 
prepared to take an interest in London. You 
have signally proved the contrary. You have 
136 
erected the station not only in the interests 
of the burghers of Fulham, but in the interest 
of Greater London as a whole (Ibid). 
Although not at the opening ceremony, the Chairman of 
the Electricity Commission commended "The enterprise of 
the Fulham Borough Council" (Ibid) The Borough's 
Electrical Engineer asked that those who built the 
station be remembered. As The Post recounted: 
The skill of the contractors and the 
craftsmanship of the men, he said, were things 
to be acknowledged with gratitude (Ibid). 
Once the new Fulham Power Station had been phased in, 
the original power station was shut down and the land 
cleared. During its lifetime, the capacity of the second 
power station was increased by some 300%, from 120,000kW 
to 360,000kW ('25 Years in the Service of Electricity 
Generation: Fulham Power Station, 1936-1961', Central 
Electricity Generating Board, UK, 1961, p. 3). Due to the 
treacherous nature of the ground adjacent to the Thames, 
the new power station was built on a massive concrete 
raft "Requiring excavations of up to 44ft. below surface 
at the deepest point" (Ibid, p. 8). (This impressive feat 
of heavy structural engineering would make the later 
demolition of the power station all the more difficult). 
As in all power stations, huge amounts of blue and brown 
asbestos were used at Fulham to provide adequate heat 
insulation. The insulation work was so thorough that "In 
1948 [Fulham Power Station had] the distinction of the 
highest thermal efficiency of any power station in Great 
Britain" (Ibid, p. 30). The lagging of the power station 
137 
was a huge undertaking, "The fantastic levels of heat 
[requiring] every piece of the structure to be 
insulated" (Weeden C., 'The Boys From The Blue Dust', 
City Limits, November 18-24,1983, p. 6). As one of those 
involved in the original lagging of the power station 
recalled: 
The scaffolding went 60 foot up the side of 
the boiler with laggers on every platform, 
dropping the offcuts of Caposite asbestos slab 
on to the laggers below them (Ibid). 
To maintain the power station's remarkable thermal 
efficiency, a comprehensive maintenance programme was 
followed, in which pipework and other components were 
regularly re-lagged. As one of the lagging contractors 
recalled: 
Over the years asbestos breaks down and 
crumbles off. Workers may brush against it 
too, and damage it. Now and then we are sent 
in to re-lag. When we did Fulham there were no 
precautions kept, so the dust is everywhere 
inside there anyway. The pipes were lagged 
with asbestos cloth. This you cut to size, put 
it round the pipe, sewed it with a needle and 
asbestos cotton - five stitches to the inch, 
rubbed down with your thumb - and this was 
then stuffed with asbestos fibres. If it was 
too tight a fit then you would wrap the joint 
with asbestos rope (Ibid). 
In 1948, ownership of the power station passed from the 
Metropolitan Borough of Fulham to the London Division of 
the British Electricity Authority. In other words, the 
first Attlee government nationalised Fulham Power 
Station. The power station reached its apogee during the 
post-war reconstruction boom of the 1950s, when it 
burned 5,000 tons of coal, and consumed 14,000,000 
138 
gallons of Thames water each day (Ibid). However, by the 
early 1960s, the availability of power supplies from 
other, more modern stations meant that the 'load factor' 
at Fulham began to fall. 
In an effort to modernise the station, in 1969 plans 
were laid to convert to oil. The conversion was 
completed in 1972 - just before the first of the 1970's 
several 'oil crises'. The dramatic increase in the price 
of oil prompted a cost-benefit analysis of the country's 
oil burning power stations. In November, 1975, the 
Electricity Board's South Eastern Region announced the 
closure by October 31,1976, of Hackney, Peterborough 
and Brimsdown power stations, and the partial closure of 
Fulham Power Station. It was reported that "The closure 
dates have been advanced because of the sharp reduction 
in the demand for electricity" ('Stations To Close', 
South Eastern Power, November 1975). Thus, at the end of 
1976, Fulham Power Station was put on 'stand by,. This 
marked the beginning of the end for the plant. The 
workforce was cut from 460 to 230, and in 1978 it was 
closed for good. 
The site remained derelict for a couple of years. Then 
in 1980 the CEGB asked the local authority to prepare a 
development brief. Despite the lack of amenities in 
Sands End (the neighbourhood had little open space, for 
example), the council recommended that the prime site be 
used for 'industrial and warehouse development'. The 
Fulham Chronicle responded "Lost is development of the 
land for houses or amenity uses" ('Sale A Step Nearer', 
139 
August 7,1981). Redevelopment did not begin until May, 
1983. 
Despite its demise, there is little doubt that for each 
of the 77 years of its existence, Fulham Power Station - 
in both its incarnations - was a source of employment, 
pride and physical comfort for the local population. 
Apart from directly employing several hundred people, it 
attracted significant industry to Sands End. Eventually, 
the whole of the neighbourhood's extensive river 
frontage became colonised by industry. The local 
authority took great pride in the fact that it had 
undertaken such a complex venture as the construction 
and management of a power station (and associated 
distribution system) with such a degree of success. Thus 
in 1961, on the occasion of the station's silver 
jubilee, it was noted that "Fulham Council was extremely 
proud of the fact that they provided the original power 
station". At the celebratory luncheon, the ex-Fulham 
Borough Electrical Engineer noted: 
We were a real team... [especially] the women 
who did such wonderful work during the war. 
The staff of Fulham Power Station were roundly 
commended. As the Chronicle recorded: 
Mr H. J. Bennett, S. E. Regional Director, said 
the staff of the power station had always been 
reliable, and their devotion to duty had been 
a hall-mark since the days when Fulham first 
built it ('When Fulham Owned Its Own Power 
Station', The Fulham Chronicle, November 24, 
1961). 
on the occasion of its closure in 1978, South Eastern 
140 
Power magazine noted that Fulham Power Station had 
provided "Long and valued service to the community". 
It would be a mistake, however, to assume that the power 
station engendered unalloyed joy and celebration amongst 
the residents of Sands End. During its coal-burning 
years, the power station received numerous complaints 
about sooty deposits from the chimneys. As the West 
London Observer noted in 1973: 
Until last year, the station had received a 
continuous stream of complaints from residents 
about the grit and smoke emitted from the four 
giant chimneys ('Fresh Air And Clean Water - 
And That's Worth A Million', February 2, 
1973). 
The Power Station was also an emphatic physical presence 
that towered over the narrow Victorian streets of Sands 
End: 
Close up, the chimney stacks of the-power 
station seemed enormous. Each was three 
hundred feet high, crowning an already high 
building (Denny, Op Cit, p. 85). 
Having said this, however, Fulham Power Station was 
better received than the proximate Battersea Power 
Station. Built by the London Power Company (LPC) in the 
late 1930s, "Public reaction to plans for constructing 
Battersea Power Station were extremely negative" (Bowler 
and Brimblecombe, Op Cit, p. 150). The negative reaction 
derived in the main from concerns over the environmental 
impact of the Metropolitan 'super station' (actually two 
units, Battersea 'A' and Battersea 'B', built some years 
apart): 
141 
From inception (1920s) to partial demolition 
(1980s) London's Battersea Power Station 
provoked public concern over environmental 
impacts. Adverse reaction during the early 
stages concerned siting and the effects of air 
pollutants on the urban surroundings. 
Potential air pollution problems resulted in a 
restrictive 'condition' being inserted in the 
consent for Battersea which required smoke and 
sulphur dioxide to be controlled. The 
'condition' did not reassure either the public 
or special interest groups who campaigned 
against the construction of the station 
(Bowler and Brimblecombe, Op Cit, p. 143). 
It is interesting to ponder why the public's reaction to 
Battersea Power Station differed from its reaction to 
Fulham Power Station. After all, the two power stations 
had outputs that were exactly equal - 360,000kW - and 
both converted coal to a form of energy that was 
relatively cheap and convenient. Possibly the divergent 
attitudes were in part a reflection of the divergent 
patterns of ownership and control of the two stations, 
with Fulham Power Station, as the creation of the local 
authority, being seen to be more accountable to the 
local population and more an expression of local energy 
and pride than the privately built Battersea Power 
Station. Also, the people of Sands End were familiar 
with the technology of coal-burning power stations, the 
first plant having been opened as long ago as 1901. The 
same could not be said of the people of Battersea. 
Generally, Sands End was an ideal location for heavy 
industry, which in the Nineteenth and Twentieth 
Centuries was coal fired. Its geography, sitting as it 
did in "A deep southerly loop of the Thames" (Hasker, Op 
Cit, p. 72), rendered it accessible to coalers from 
142 
North-East England, and oilers from further afield. Both 
the gas works and power station consumed vast amounts of 
coal, while the new oil termini built along the river 
handled ever increasing amounts of this new energy 
source. Eventually, both. Fulham Power Station and London 
Underground's Lots 'Road Power Station, situated on 
Chelsea Creek, just the other side of the Borough 
boundary, changed to oil. 
Before a general industrial decline in the 1970s, the 
Sands End river frontage thrived. Between Wandsworth 
Bridge and Chelsea Creek (moving eastwards from the 
bridge), were to be found Albert Wharf, Swedish Wharf 
Petroleum Depot, Comley's Wharf Concrete Works, Fulham 
Wharf Warehouse Complex, Fulham Power Station, the Shell 
and Lensbury Oil Terminal (which, by the time of the 
power station debate, had become a BP depot), the North 
Thames Gas Board Vehicle Maintenance Workshops and Gas 
Appliance Works and Laboratories, a liquefied petroleum 
gas (LPG) storage depot, and finally the Nacovia Wharf 
Cement and Concrete Works adjacent to the West London 
Extension Railway. (A map showing the location of some 
of this industry is reproduced as Appendix 10. Fulham 
Power Station is shown as 'Generating Station' and 'Gen 
Sta'. (The map is unfortunately overwritten with a 1980s 
traffic management analysis)). 
Inland, to the west of Chelsea Creek, was the gas works. 
Chelsea Basin itself had a lock system and was 
surrounded by goods sheds and extensive marshalling 
yards owned and managed by British Rail. 
143 
While it has been asserted that London's industries 
"Developed mainly on the eastern side of the capital" 
(Hasker, Op Cit, p. 40), it cannot be doubted that for 
much of the Twentieth Century Sands End was, although 
located in the heart of the more 'residential' West End, 
heavily industrialised. 
As in other parts of London, Sands End's industrial 
decline began in the 1960s. In London generally, the 
1960s and 1970s saw a dramatic decline in manufacturing 
activity. Thus while the country as a whole lost 25% of 
jobs in manufacturing between 1971 and 1981, the capital 
lost 36% of its manufacturing jobs. All told, between 
1973 and 1982 London lost over half a million jobs from 
its economy (Townsend P., Poverty and Labour in London: 
Interim Report of a Centenary Survey, Low Pay Unit, 
1987, p. 12). The shift from manufacturing to service 
jobs actually began in the 1950s. Thus while the number 
of manufacturing jobs in the capital declined from 
1,523,000 in 1951 to 1,049,000 in 1971 (and to 671,000 
in 1981), between 1951 and 1971, the number of banking, 
insurance and finance jobs increased from 187,000 to 
404,000 (Ibid, p. 14). The dramatic transformation of the 
capital's manufacturing base during the 1960s and 1970s 
meant that by the early 1980s, "Some boroughs [were] 
virtually denuded of manufacturing firms which employ 
more than 200 people" (Ibid, p. 13). The economy of Sands 
End, with its almost total reliance upon heavy industry, 
was particularly hard hit. As one commentator put it: 
Fifty years ago [Sands End] was even uglier 
then it is today, but thriving, with a huge 
gas works and power station, an oil depot, 
144 
laundry, and various other factories. But by 
the 1970s it had become a dead and derelict 
industrial wasteland, the power station 
unused, the gasometers either deflated or 
demolished, factories empty and the corner 
shops closed (Denny, Op Cit, p. 85). 
Sands End in the 1970s was very much a "Down and out 
corner of old Fulham" (Ibid, p. 90) in need of social and 
economic regeneration. 
Regeneration, when it came, began with an aggressive 
gentrification of working class terraced houses (which, 
in estate agents' parlance, were transformed into 
'cottages'), and concluded with an expansion of the 
area's service sector industries (with offices, 'starter 
units' and a large supermarket being built) and large 
scale 'executive housing' developments. 
Fulham's gentrification was not exceptional. Indeed, in 
many respects, the gentrification process was slow to 
take hold in SW5. Other London neighbourhoods had been 
undergoing gentrification since the 1960s, the process 
beginning in South-West Islington in about 1965. The 
process itself arose out of the historical conjuncture 
of several quite disparate social, economic and 
political processes. The first was the abandonment by 
the second Wilson government of "The blank cheque for 
new build of the 1967 Housing Subsidies Act" and the 
consequent "Switch of public resources into 
rehabilitation or improvement". The second was the 
(previously discussed) dramatic increase in the size and 
vigour of London's service sector, which drew many more 
middle class, reasonably prosperous white collar workers 
into the capital. And the third process was the retreat 
145 
from modernist architecture and rediscovery of the 
pleasures of the (rehabilitated) Victorian and Edwardian 
dwelling (Legg C., and Allen J., 'The Origins of 
Gentrification in London', History Workshop No. 17,1984, 
p. 166). The conjuncture of these (and other) processes 
launched the capital on a gentrification spree that 
ended only with the dramatic property market crash of 
1989. 
In the 1970s, 'fashionable Fulham' (or 'FASH. FUL' as it 
appeared in Estate Agents' windows) was marketed as an 
affordable alternative to an overheating Chelsea 'town 
house' market. The resulting gentrification had a 
profound effect on many Fulham neighbourhoods, including 
(albeit to a lesser degree than elsewhere) the 
'Cinderella' neighbourhood of Sands End. There appeared 
"Parked yellow Renaults, Victoriana and stripped pine, 
rooms Healised and Habitatised [and] children in flared 
jeans on Sunday" (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 19) . Those who 
migrated to Sands End from its fashionable environs 
brought a different culture to the area: 
[T]he overflow from the Chelsea/King's Road of 
middle and upper class persons [made] much of 
the Sands End area an 'in' place to live with 
frequent mentions in 'glossy' magazines and on 
television (Bayliss, G., Wandsworth Bridge 
Road as a Social Boundary (B. A. Geography 
Thesis), Liverpool University, Department of 
Geography, 1981 (Copy sourced from LBH&F 
Archive)). 
While there was token (often unspoken) resentment from 
'native' residents, such gentrification brought 
146 
investment and spending to Sands End (although how much 
of this new money' went to local businesses is open to 
question). One couple, for example, invested almost as 
much in 'improvements' as their house cost originally. 
The couple, he an engineer, she a secretary, spent 
£7,000 buying their house, and another £6,000 on 
refurbishment (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20). It should be noted 
that the purchase was made more attractive by the local 
authority offer of a £1,000 improvement grant. 
There is little doubt that the process of gentrification 
has the potential to alienate the newcomer from the 
native, the gentrifier from the merely gentrified. As 
one commentator has put it, "Gentrification battles 
bring 'society' face to face with the hideous class 
differences it has created" (Sleeper J., 'Neighbourhood 
Gentrification: More Inequity than Meets the Eye', 
Dissent, Volume 29, No. 2,1982, p. 169). Others see 
gentrification as representing nothing less than "The 
class struggle in housing" (Legg and Allen, Op Cit, 
p. 164). The process usually exhibits two distinct 
phases. First come those of a 'missionary' persuasion, 
who bring not only money, but understanding and empathy 
to a battered neighbourhood. In time, however, the 
process of gentrification that began "As a benign 
revival of shabby tenements by young urban 
integrationists", becomes nothing less than "An 
inflationary, luxury oriented juggernaut" consuming 
communities and capital in equal measure (Sleeper, Op 
Cit, p. 171). During this phase, the gentrifiers, 
according to Jim Sleeper, are overwhelmed by 'commodity 
147 
fetishism'. (Mooney made much the same observation in 
Sands End. See above). Thus there develops "An obsession 
with consumption styles that insinuates itself into 
personality when all human relationships have been 
plunged into the icy waters of calculation by market 
forces: the trappings of dignity that money can buy, 
such as [home] ownership... become virtually the only 
substitutes for the dignity of life in more stable, 
supportive communities" (Ibid, p. 174). The 'obsession 
with consumption styles' on the part of those who 'move 
up' in the world was noted also by Young and Wilimott in 
their seminal work Family and Kinship in East London. 
The authors found that those East End families who could 
afford to move to the new estates on the outskirts of 
the capital began to value themselves and others not in 
terms of who they were and what they did, but rather in 
terms of what they owned. As the authors put it, in the 
new, semi-rural London County Council estates of neat, 
semi-detached houses, "Judgement (rested]... on the 
trappings of the man rather than on the man himself" 
(Pelican, Britain, 1962, p. 162). 
In Hammersmith and Fulham the gentrification process - 
whether influenced by 'commodity fetishism' or not - was 
'kick started' in 1968 by the election of a Conservative 
Council. The majority of houses purchased by the 
outgoing Labour administration and earmarked for 
demolition were instead sold back to the private sector 
(although some Council-owned houses were demolished to 
create new open spaces). Traffic calming, tree planting, 
home improvement grants and the decanting of any 
148 
remaining Council tenants who were willing to move to 
the borough's new high-rise blocks completed the local 
authority's contribution to the gentrification process. 
The Council's decanting programmes caused some 
resentment amongst native Fulhamites. As one long-term 
resident explained: 
I don't think it fair.. . the way they turn out 
all the working class and put them into poky 
flats when they have been used to a big flat 
with a garden. You have to sell half the 
furniture that's part of your life. 
You see, all these people are monied 
people. They buy their houses then feel we 
ought not to be down here. But I don't suppose 
we will be down here for long. Those that have 
gone hate being away from here. My friend, a 
widow, used to live over the road and when she 
wasn't well I'd do a bit of shopping for her. 
Where she is now in the flats she doesn't know 
anybody and never sees anybody. We all used to 
help each other (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20) 
The erosion of community spirit is a common theme 
amongst Fulham's long-term residents. As one of them put 
it: 
I never meet [my new neighbours]. They never 
stop to give you the time of day. And quite 
honestly, the only improvements they've made 
with all their money are to their own houses; 
the whole outlook and feel of the street 
hasn't been improved. They are just not us you 
see (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 22). 
Mrs Wheeler's testimony concludes, rather sadly, with a 
wish for some sort of social apartheid so that her 
street's old community spirit can be recreated: 
Its a pity they couldn't have moved all us 
down one end and all them up the other 
(Mooney, Op Cit, p. 22). 
149 
Besides changing the social character of Fulham, 
gentrification also affected its physical appearance, 
with brown-framed, decrepit frontages giving way to 
'tasteful' swathes of pristine white-painted brickwork. 
However, despite looking good, the refurbished streets, 
according to Bel Mooney, "Lack the texture, the variety, 
the evidence of time spent" (Op Cit, p. 22). While a 
native Fulhamite might well install an out of period 
front door and paint it some 'vulgar' colour, such 
architectural faux pas at least lent the street a touch 
of humanity and humour. 
If the seventies was the decade of creeping 
gentrification, the eighties was the decade of the 'big 
idea' in private urban development and renewal schemes. 
In Sands End, the 'big idea' took the form of the 
development by P&O and Globe of Chelsea Basin and some 
twenty acres of surrounding dereliction. As Denny 
explains, the developers promised a "Unique world of 
houses, flats, offices, restaurants and shops', and a 
luxury hotel built around a working yacht harbour" 
(Denny, Op Cit, p. 90). The Chelsea Harbour development 
is a contemporary of the London Docklands Development 
Corporation's (LDDC) scheme in East London (the LDDC was 
set up in 1981). Like its contemporary, Chelsea Harbour 
"Contains a mixture of classical and modernistic styles 
and motifs" (Ibid) . It is, in other words, the 
apotheosis of the post-modern style in architecture. Or 
as one review has put it, "[Chelsea Harbour is a] 
bizarre postmodernist jumble which sweeps up the world's 
styles and periods to create 14 different buildings in 
150 
neo-classical and newer styles" (Chippindale, P., and 
Horrie, C., 'Up Chic Creek', New Statesman and Society, 
September 16,1988, p. 11). Other reviews have been 
equally scathing. Considering the suitability of the 
location for a recent Royal Society of British Sculptors 
exhibition, an arts writer made the following comments: 
There are notable works by internationally 
renowned artists, yet the Lego-like 
architecture (the acme of post-modernism) 
reduces powerful pieces.. . to mere decoration... (Hubbard S., 'Sculpture 93 - 
Chelsea Harbour', Time Out, August 11-18, 
1993, p. 41). 
The exhibition, according to the critic, had to "Fight 
off contamination from the surrounding tweeness" (Ibid). 
Twee though Chelsea Harbour may appear to an art critic, 
it is in fact an emphatic physical presence in Sands 
End. Its doughnut shape, creating a semi-private 'inner 
sanctum', and sheer exterior walls put one in mind of an 
impregnable contemporary barbican. As one of the power 
station campaigners (who also served on the local 
authority between 1986 and 1990) put it: 
They have attempted in our area a new form of 
enclosure... There was an attempt at a Medieval 
fort to keep everybody else out and to protect 
the occupants ... 
(JG: Interviewed October 23, 
1993) 
Chelsea Harbour, for all its pleasant shopping malls, 
imported mature trees and airy courtyards, is very much 
an island of tightly controlled space in the midst of an 
open (if physically decaying) patchwork of Victorian and 
Edwardian dwellings. 
151 
The Chelsea Harbour development was sanctioned by a 
Conservative led Hammersmith and Fulham Council in the 
mid 1980s, but on completion the Council, by then Labour 
controlled, attempted (unsuccessfully) to transfer it to 
the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea by asking 
for the Borough boundary to be moved. At the time, 
sceptics suspected the ruling Labour Group of attempting 
to eliminate a possible electoral threat to Labour- 
controlled Sands End by 'dumping' potential Conservative 
voters in a borough of their own political colour. 
The development was unattractive to the Labour authority 
for other reasons. At the time, local income for 
services was generated through the Community Charge, 
which bore no relation to property value. So although 
the new residents would generate some new income, the 
absence of a progressive local tax would lose the 
Borough many thousands of pounds in a period of 
increasing financial restraint. Additionally, the mainly 
residential development provided relatively few jobs. 
Those that were created were often semi or unskilled - 
gardeners, hotel workers, and security staff. It is 
quite possible that the majority of these would be 
recruited from itinerant (and vulnerable) workers 
resident in the Earls Court hotel area, across the 
Borough boundary. An ex-Labour councillor summed up the 
Chelsea Harbour development thus: 
As a place to walk to see the boats it is very 
nice. It is a destination for some people to 
have some work, but not a lot, and what there 
is isn't highly skilled or highly paid. It is 
a misappropriation of a very valuable 
asset ... 
(JG: Interviewed October 23,1993). 
152 
The criticisms of the local economic potential of 
Chelsea Harbour were similar to those made of the LDDC 
scheme for the disused London docks. As one East London 
community representative put it, "We'll get the menial 
jobs - catering, car park attendants, baggage handlers, 
sweepers-up. They say they'll train locals later. But 
why should the airport train my youngster, when they can 
bring in skilled people from outside" (Thomas D., 
'Conflict Over The New Docklands', New Society, October 
20,1983, p. 99). According to native East Londoners, the 
LDDC 'interlopers' had little knowledge or understanding 
of the social fabric of the East End. While the LDDC saw 
East London as a more or less homogeneous community, the 
locals saw it differently: "The idea that there is one 
entity - docklands - is in fact a bit of a myth. The 
people and economy of one docks area aren't necessarily 
linked with those of another. Their common denominator 
is that their economies have collapsed" (Ibid). The same 
comment could be made of Hammersmith and Fulham in the 
early 1980s, with the Borough fragmenting along various 
axes - housing conditions, home ownership, unemployment, 
level of amenity, crime, quality of schooling, and 
access to private and public transport. (The community's 
heterogeneity is reviewed in more detail later). 
Indifferent or oblivious to the heterogeneity of the 
East End community, the LDDC set about the task of, as 
its first chairman put it, "Introducing light and shade 
into a monochrome society" (Ibid). To this end, the 
Corporation reversed the ratio of owner-occupied to 
153 
rented accommodation in all new housing developments: 
In the past local housing developments 
allowed... a fifth owner-occupation at most. 
The corporation has reversed the ratio - four 
fifths for owner-occupation and one fifth for 
rent. The result, it's claimed, is that local 
people can't afford the new housing (Ibid). 
As in Docklands, so too in Sands End: Those involved 
with Chelsea Harbour had little serious intent of 
meeting specifically local needs. Chelsea Harbour had no 
low-cost rented housing - making even the LDDC's limited 
commitment to social housing seem positively 
enlightened. It had no sheltered schemes - even though 
these were mooted in the development's early design 
work, possibly with the intent of currying local 
political favour. It had no small industrial 'starter' 
units, and no purpose-built community or commercial 
exhibition space. At least Docklands had the (albeit 
financially insecure) London Arena. Despite such 
omissions, however, the Chelsea Harbour scheme was 
hailed as 'imaginative', although as one commentator has 
observed, "'Imaginative' is the word often used to 
describe plans to turn docks into yachting marinas" 
(Thomas, Op Cit). Unfortunately for London's deprived 
communities, however, it would appear that the public 
can prefer the asceticism of an exclusive, yet sterile, 
marina to the unpicturesque vigour of a working water 
front, as the following apocryphal tale demonstrates: 
But what of St Katharine's Dock... the first to 
get the imaginative treatment? Now boasting an 
expensive hotel, a marina, an open-air chapel 
and high-class shopping and restaurants, it's 
a prime tourist attraction. [To] the strains 
154 
of eucharist in the chapel.. . Two portly Americans cut a stately progress through the 
crowds. "Gee, this is cute. What was it 
before? " asked one. "Oh, just some sort of 
dock" (Ibid). 
In many respects, Chelsea Harbour bears a closer 
resemblance to St Katharine's Dock than to Docklands. It 
is exclusive, expensive, incongruous and aggressively 
commercial: a rich 'ghetto' in the midst of an 
increasingly deprived community (as will be shown 
later). 
If the LDDC scheme set a London-wide (if not nation- 
wide) precedent for 1980s inner-city regeneration 
programmes, Chelsea Harbour set a Fulham precedent for 
other developments along the largely derelict Sands End 
river frontage. A local regeneration 'paradigm' had been 
established. 
The perceived 'success' of Chelsea Harbour prompted 
British Gas, owners of much of the derelict land, to 
propose a number of similar schemes. For example, in 
1989, British Gas PLC (North Thames) submitted an 
outline planning application for a major redevelopment 
of its vacant land along the Thames. The application 
proposed: 
Redevelopment to provide not more than 643 
dwellings and 89,272 sq. metres of commercial 
floorspace and 3,235 parking spaces together 
with 3.3 hectares of open space accessible to 
the public (London Borough of Hammersmith and 
Fulham Planning Application, Applicant; 
'British Gas PLC (North Thames)', Date of 
Application 23.02.89, T. P. Number 
00531/0014/000). 
This development would have created "Up to 3,500 jobs at 
155 
a cost of about £400 million", and had been designed "By 
the architects responsible for trendy Chelsea Harbour" 
(Kennedy D., 'Des Res at the Gasworks', The Fulham 
Gazette, January 27,1989). The Council rejected the 
application. While there is little doubt that the 
injection of £400 million into the economy of Sands End 
would have created some new employment, if the 
experience of the London Docklands is anything to go by, 
it is debatable whether 3,500 new jobs would have 
appeared. At one time, for example, it was predicted 
that the Docklands Airport alone would create up to 
5,000 jobs (Thomas, Op Cit). Even today (late 1996) the 
airport employs no more than a few hundred. 
The non-British Gas land along the river was in a 
similar state of dereliction. Fulham Power Station had 
been demolished in 1983/1984 leaving a large void that 
was not fully redeveloped until the late 1980s. Also in 
the 1980s the Shell and Lensbury Oil Terminal was 
demolished, and the Comley's Wharf Concrete Works 
abandoned. A large part of the gas works site adjacent 
to the old West London Extension Railway was turned over 
to 'yardage' (a managed site where plots were let to 
small businesses like car breakers and waste transfer 
stations), and one of the British Gas workshops on the 
riverside became an indoor 'go-kart' track. In many 
respects, Sands End in the 1980s bore a remarkable 
resemblance to London Docklands, an area that, like its 
West London counterpart, had experienced social and 
economic decline for some decades. Thus in Docklands, as 
in Sands End, "There was insufficient investment... Land 
156 
and buildings became derelict or were taken up by 
haulage and scrap operators who controlled large sites 
at low rents and employed few people" ('Briefing: The 
Challenge of Urban Regeneration', LDDC). 
Today the majority of the Fulham Power Station site has 
been redeveloped. The 'executive' component of the 
redevelopment, sited on the waterfront, is known as 
'Regent on the River'. According to the on-site sales 
and lettings company, the residents of Regent on the 
River may 'experience the best in London living'. 
According to the sales literature, the development 
features "250 luxury new apartments and penthouses 
designed and built to an exceptionally high standard by 
Bovis Homes". The development is "Situated in one of 
West London's most fashionable riverside 
areas ... Knightsbridge, Sloane Square and Kings Road are 
all within easy reach of the development" (Cluttons 
London Residential Agency, 'Regent on the River, 
London'). In fact, both Knightsbridge and Sloane Square 
are some distance off. Only the unfashionable western 
end of the King's Road is within a reasonable walk of 
Regent on the River. Given that Sands End has no tube or 
rail stop, and- only a mediocre bus service, car 
ownership is a precondition for 'easy access' to West 
London's fashionable shopping and entertainment centres. 
The 'social housing' component of the development is 
allegedly the product of a dispute between P&O, owners 
of Bovis and developers of Chelsea Harbour, and 
Hammersmith and Fulham Council. The dispute, over the 
157 
violation of living density regulations at Chelsea 
Harbour, was popularly believed to have been settled by 
Bovis building a number of Council houses free of charge 
on the Regent on the River site. This 'planning gain' 
development is now managed directly by the local 
authority. Perhaps predictably, the social housing gift 
is sited on a busy arterial road, leaving the 
financially and aesthetically more valuable river 
frontage for the prestigious Regent development. 
The business component of the development comprises 
several dozen 'industrial units', while the leisure 
requirements of Regent on the River and other residents 
are catered for by the 'exclusive Harbour Club', as the 
development's estate agents, Cluttons put it. The club 
has 14 tennis courts, 2 dance studios, a gym, a large 
swimming pool, a childrens' pool, a bar, restaurant and 
creche. (The club was developed by Skillion and is 
managed by First Leisure PLC). 
A large Sainsburys supermarket has been built adjacent 
to Regent on the River. In a gesture of goodwill the 
chain donated a small area of land to the local 
authority for the provision of 'low rent starter 
business units'. The local authority seized the 
opportunity to promote local economic development. As 
the local paper explained: 
Town Hall chiefs are to call in a firm of 
consultants to ensure maximum use is made of 
an empty site in Townmead Road. They hope the 
0.67 acre site will.. . allow 
local people to 
start up local firms in a supportive low-cost 
environment. The site should also contain 
business and secretarial back-up for the new 
firms, and space for training courses to be 
158 
carried out ('Starter Units', The Fulham 
Chronicle, October 19,1989). 
(This sort of benevolence was conspicuously absent at 
Chelsea Harbour). Hammersmith and Fulham's speedy 
acceptance of the Sainsburys gift reflected a 
willingness on the part of local authorities in the 
1980s to intervene in collapsing local economies 
(Townsend, Op Cit). (It should be noted, however, that 
while many local authorities longed to intervene in 
their respective local economies, few had the power or 
finance to do so on any meaningful scale). 
The sort of 'gestural' politics practised by Sainsbury's 
and Bovis in Sands End could be seen elsewhere in 
London, and is practised to this day. Thus companies 
that have benefited from the LDDC's 'pump priming' of 
the East London economy make much of their involvement 
with the voluntary East London Partnership (ELP) -a 
charity set up by incoming businesses like News 
International, Grand Metropolitan and Morgan Stanley to 
give something back to the community. Through the ELP, 
professionals, according to its chairman, "Lend their 
expertise to a whole range of projects that are helping 
regenerate East London, from establishing a profit- 
making launderette on a Spitalfields estate to teaching 
local students in Newham the basics of running a 
business" (Tagg D., 'Smiling Face Of The East End', The 
Evening Standard, January 30,1995, p. 28). (The view 
that companies are eager to become more intimately 
involved in community life contradicts Townsend's 
opinion that big business cares little for the fate of 
159 
the capital and its people: "Internationalisation has 
some awkward implications for the acknowledgement of 
local social responsibility on the part of rich people. 
Swept into the high finance and quick deals of the whole 
world they are often, uninformed about the poverty being 
generated in their own city" (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 67). 
There is no equivalent to the ELP in Fulham, despite the 
similar social and economic problems faced by the Sands 
End community (albeit on a smaller scale). 
Despite the lack of a 'West London Partnership', 
however, there is a marked similarity between Sands End 
and London Docklands in terms of the physical changes 
wrought to the two areas during the 1980s. In Docklands, 
the brash new-build projects of the eighties set up a 
physical tension with the area's Council estates and 
long-established Victorian and Edwardian terraces. As 
the Evening Standard, describing the fate of the 
residents of the Isle of Dogs, put it: 
Most indigenous islanders live like this, in 
enclaves between the designer developments. In 
another context the council estates might be 
reservations (Dovkants K., 'Brave New World 
Built On Broken Promises', The Evening 
Standard, January 18,1995). 
A similar polarisation can be observed in Sands End, 
where both the Chelsea Harbour and Regent on the River 
developments with their exclusionary tariffs, niche 
outlets, security cameras and guards conspire to exclude 
those who, like many of those who live in the terraced 
streets and Council estates of Sands End, are deemed not 
to 'belong'. Thus, Chelsea Harbour is "Unashamedly 
160 
targeted at the wealthy and status conscious who want to 
be in London, but get well away from the increasing 
horror of its everyday life (Chippindale, Op Cit, p. 10). 
The exclusionary and exclusive character of such 
developments has also been noted by Geoff Mulgan. 
According to Mulgan, in order to be seen to be a 
'legitimate' user of such amenities, one must be able to 
consume. If one is unable to meet this prerequisite, one 
may be considered a threat to 'polite society': 
Those deemed unproductive as consumers, 
particularly the young and the homeless, are 
often physically excluded from the new 
shopping centres (Hall S., and Jacques M., New 
Times - The Changing Face of Politics in the 
1990s, Lawrence and Wishart, Britain, 1989, 
p. 273). 
It is alleged that such an elitist philosophy informs 
the management of Chelsea Harbour: 
The developers are anxious that public 
participation amid discreet security will 
ensure that the Harbour is not written off as 
a fortress for the rich... 
But wherever possible the "public" which 
is being sought will be sanitised in just the 
same way as the development filters the 
reality of London (Chippindale, Op Cit, p. 11). 
Whatever the polarising effect of such developments, 
however, in a purely topographical sense Sands End 
retains much of its Victorian/Edwardian character. 
Indeed, its physical composition - even in the mid 1990s 
- brings to mind an old description of Victorian London, 
as consisting of "Endless streets of undistinguished 
houses, undistinguished industries [and] second-rate 
shops... " (Besant in Briggs, Op Cit, p. 347). 
161 
2.2 Social and Economic Development. 
At the end of the Eighteenth Century there were some 
four and a half thousand. people resident in Fulham as a 
whole. By the inter-war period, the population stood at 
300,000. It has been in decline ever since. 
When Sands End was still an area of extensive market 
gardens, many Irish people, fleeing the harsh economic 
conditions of their homeland, settled there. These 
agricultural workers were accommodated in cheaply built 
rented housing. The tradition of minimalist, speculative 
housing development continued throughout the Nineteenth 
Century, and drew wide comment. Dickens, for example, 
noted in Dombey and Son the "Disorderly crop of 
beginnings of mean houses, rising out of the rubbish, as 
if they had been unskilfully sown there" (Dickens in 
Briggs, Op Cit, p. 346). 
The coming of the railways in the Nineteenth Century 
prompted further extensive settlement in the 
neighbourhoods of Fulham. The laying of tracks to 
service the great termini of Victorian London cleared 
swathes of housing from the city. This required that 
many thousands of people be re-housed in the new 
suburbs', which included Sands End. As a consequence 
The time was. . . fast approaching when Hammersmith and 
Fulham would themselves be part of Greater London. Rural 
peace would be no more" (Hasker, Op Cit, p. 44). 
Despite the generation of new jobs in Fulham, poverty 
162 
remained a major social problem for the Borough 
throughout the Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries. 
Fulham was not alone in its suffering, however. In 
London generally, poverty, "The problem of problems" 
(Briggs, Op Cit, p. 313), affected over 30% of the 
population. London's population was not indifferent to 
such deep-seated deprivation. As Charles Booth noted: 
"The problem of poverty in the midst of wealth... is 
troubling to the hearts and minds of... many people". 
Booth, using a fashionable contemporary metaphor, drew a 
comparison between 'darkest Africa' and "'Darkest 
London' with its 'submerged tenth"' (Briggs, Op Cit, 
p. 313). 
Reflecting increasing concern over poverty and 
unemployment, the burghers of Fulham offered up various 
palliatives. In December 1818, for example, the owners 
of Sandford Manor made the property available for the 
relief of poverty and distress in the area. This 
philanthropic venture, supported by the Bishop of 
London, lasted until March of the following year. In 
1849, building commenced on a new Fulham Union 
Workhouse. However, although the premises were 
sufficiently large to accommodate 450 people, "This 
number was inadequate to meet local needs" (Hasker, Op 
Cit, p. 47). This failure to provide adequately for local 
needs reflected a general reluctance on the part of 
London's many vestries, boards and commissions to spend 
public money. 
There were several other reasons for the continued 
destitution of a significant portion of the Fulham 
163 
community. Thus, while certain industries, like the 
Fulham Pottery, which operated from 1672 until the 
1940s, provided relatively stable employment, others, 
like the market gardens, provided only seasonal work. 
Even industries that boasted of providing 'secure' 
employment, like the Swan Brewery, built in 1769, could 
have an adverse effect on public health by paying 
workers in kind with cheap ale. This went on in the 
context of a 'moral outcry' against the 'widespread 
drunkenness' of the period - attributed by the middle 
classes to excessive numbers of public houses and 
unregulated opening hours. 
However, while some attributed social problems solely to 
the 'indiscipline' of the working classes, others, like 
the Fulham Board's first Medical Officer of Health, Mr 
F. J. Burge, highlighted what they believed to be the 
underlying causes of misery and ill health. These were 
the "Wretched and most miserably constructed dwellings 
erected with the most utter disregard for drainage or 
other sanitary appliances" (Hasker, p. 47). The 
inadequate level of housing provision in London 
generally drew much adverse comment from Victorian 
luminaries like H. G. Wells, who, "In Tono Bungav... wrote 
scornfully of the notion that 'it was nobody's business 
to see that people were well-housed under civilised 
conditions"' (Briggs, Op Cit, p. 346). 
The poor condition of the housing stock in concert with 
excessively high occupancy levels, poor quality drinking 
water and inadequate sewage systems, generated much ill 
194 
health. Consequently, despite the Poor Law Amendment Act 
of 1834, "During the first half of the Nineteenth 
Century, the general standard of health amongst the mass 
of the people in... Fulham deteriorated" (Hasker, Op Cit, 
p. 47) . 
The social conditions of the people of Fulham were no 
better at the end of the century. 
In 1896, the Bishop of London was reported to be 
"Saddened by the bad living conditions he found locally 
in some areas" (Hasker, Op Cit, p. 61). 
In 1900 Charles Feret commented that Fulham had become, 
apart from "Two or three streets leading towards the 
newly-built Wandsworth Bridge Road... a region of poverty 
and squalor" (Feret C. J., in Denny B., Op Cit, p. 85). It 
would appear that the new London County Council (LCC), 
established in 1888 to reform and rationalise London's 
chaotic administration, had made little impact in Fulham 
- and this despite the fact that from 1889 until 1907 
the LCC was in the hands of the 'collectivist' 
Progressives (Briggs, Op Cit, p. 336). 
In 1902 the coronation of Edward VII provided an 
opportunity for both municipal philanthropy and an 
assessment of the condition of the working class. A 
celebratory picnic was provided for the poor' in a park 
in Fulham. In 1901, the population of Fulham was put at 
137,000. Around 13,000 attended the jamboree "Although 
this was far less than half of the estimated 34,000 
residents living in poverty" (Denny, Op Cit, p. 132). If 
the 'worst- case' estimate of the number of Fulhamites 
165 
living in poverty is correct, then about 25's of the 
Borough's population was disadvantaged. 
The situation did not greatly improve after the First 
World War, when "Slums were prevalent and good housing 
at low rents was scarce in Fulham", and, as elsewhere in 
'The Land Fit for Heroes', "Unemployment was growing at 
an alarming rate" (Denny, Op Cit, p. 147). 
The housing problems of the Nineteenth Century prevailed 
into the 1920s and 1930s. A Labour Party manifesto of 
1928, endorsed by the Bishop of London, talked of 
properties in Fulham where "Water streams down the walls 
[and] floors are so rotten that the furniture legs fall 
through" (Ibid). 
The Second World War heaped more misery upon the people 
of Fulham. In one particularly heavy night raid, 52 high 
explosive bombs landed within the Borough. On another 
occasion, the power station was put out of action when 
hit by a stick of bombs. 
But, paradoxically, such destruction created novel 
opportunities for the reversal of pre-war decay. 
During the war, 1,000 of Fulham's houses and flats were 
destroyed, and a further 30,000 were damaged (Denny, Op 
Cit, p. 148). Fulham's post-war left-wing administration 
seized the opportunity, and 'built housing with much 
energy' (Ibid, p. 150). In the dynamic atmosphere of the 
immediate post-war years, even entrenched interests 
participated in plans for a better Borough. The 
Hurlingham Club, for example (an exclusive sports club 
166 
situated just to the west of Wandsworth Bridge Road), 
agreed to sell one of its polo grounds to the Council. 
Municipal flats were promptly built on the site. 
This 'engineering' of patterns of habitation continued 
into the 1970s, albeit with different priorities. Thus 
the Conservative administration of 1968-1971 encouraged 
private ownership and gentrification at the expense of 
municipal provision. The housing market bonanza that 
followed was not to everyone's liking. It came in for 
heavy criticism from the leader of the Liberal Group 
who, when asked to form an electoral pact with the 
Tories in 1978, "Issued a warning... that there must be 
, no repetition of the behaviour that occurred in 1968- 
19711". In response to overtures from the Tory 
leadership, the Liberal leader "Spelt out that he did 
not want to see any more 'gentrification' of his 
borough, when Conservative policies in 1968-1971 led to 
anti-social behaviour and profiteering by property 
speculators" ('Strong Rule Promised From Con-Lib 
Council', The Fulham Chronicle, May 19,1978). Despite 
such protestations, however, the die had been cast; an 
irresistible wave of gentrification surged across the 
Borough boundary from Kensington and Chelsea: 
As people found Chelsea too expensive, so 
they... bought into Fulham. The trend 
throughout central London, of renovating and 
reselling for largish sums what were 
previously thought to be modest 
properties... swept through Fulham... (Denny, Op 
Cit, p. 150). 
This demand for affordable 'town housing' by an 
increasingly affluent Metropolitan elite reinforced the, 
167 
by now, Conservative-led local authority's desire to 
'improve' Fulham's housing. A General Improvement Scheme 
(GIS) was announced, with the tenants of Council-owned 
Nineteenth Century properties being offered flats in the 
several 'modern' housing schemes under construction in 
the area. Houses left vacant by this means were sold to 
(relatively) affluent 'settlers' . The Leader of the 
Council, sensitive to the charge of forcing change upon 
contented Council tenants, was moved to declare publicly 
that "No one tenant has been forced to move to make 
these sales possible" (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 19). 
However, despite such assertions, many native Fulham 
residents, vulnerable to offers of new, 'convenient' 
accommodation, did move. They often regretted it. As a 
'stayer' remarked of a friend who had moved: 
She's gone to the flats in Lillie Road - 18 
floors high they are - and is miserable; she 
wishes she could come back to her own place. 
All the families used to stick together round 
here: my daughter still lives just round the 
corner. But it's all changing. Over the bridge 
in Billing Road where I was born, we used to 
be like a little village. But gradually all 
the old people moved out and the houses were 
sold to rich people... (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20). 
This 'voluntary' decanting gave rise to a certain 
resentment amongst those who chose to remain. As an 
unofficial spokesperson for the 'stayers' put it: 
Why should I go and live in a flat so they can 
sell my house to the likes of them over 
there? ... You tell them they ought to wash 
their bloody curtains. I'm not leaving my 
house so they can make it look like that - 
bloody toffee noses, and their dustbins full 
of wine bottles! (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20). 
168 
This kind of resentment was met with incomprehension 
from the 'settlers', who could not understand why native 
Fulhamites would wish to remain in 'sub-standard' 
accommodation. As one gentrifier, a doctor, put it: 
Let's face it, they were living like pigs. No 
bathrooms. These are reclaimed slums -I 
suppose you could call it a sophisticated 
method of slum clearance with private money. 
Its a shrewd bit of business by the council. 
No, the older residents don't mind at all 
(Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20). 
Another settler, interviewed separately, highlighted the 
'logic' of decanting Council tenants en-bloc: 
Surely it is to their benefit to move into a 
flats' community where, not to be snobbish, 
they are still with their own type (Mooney, Op 
Cit, p. 20). 
The settler's partner, however, although conscious of 
the 'benefits' of new social housing provision, 
nevertheless saw an irony in the destruction of mature 
and stable communities: 
There is sadness to me in the fact that 
someone who has lived here for 68 years and 
who is human and responsible, even though he 
may be from a working class background [sic], 
has to move because he is not able to own his 
own home (Mooney, Op Cit, p. 20). 
By the middle 1980s, the gentrification of the London 
Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham and the steady loss of 
local manufacturing jobs had produced a marked social 
'polarisation' within the community: a schism in wealth, 
opportunity, mobility and economic and physical security 
between the incoming 'haves' and long-resident and long- 
suffering 'have-nots'. 
169 
The post-Second World War shift in employment from the 
manufacturing to the service sector had a dramatic 
effect on West London's traditional industrial 
communities. In West London between 1971 and 1976, for 
example, the manufacturing sector shrank by over 30%. 
Between 1978 and 1983, the sector shrank by a further 
13%. The people of Fulham were kept abreast of their 
fate by The Fulham Chronicle's reporting of the GLC's 
doom-laden forecasts: 
A warning that Greater London will bear the 
brunt of the continuing contraction of the 
engineering sector, with a forecast that some 
53,000 jobs could be lost between now and 
1990, has been given to the GLC's Industry and 
Employment Forum ('Unemployment Warning', 
February 4,1983). 
Much of industry's retreat from Greater London was 
attributed to the higher costs of city-based 
manufacture. As a GLC report put it: 
Repeatedly in West London... multi-national 
companies... have chosen to close down 
production... and transfer production elsewhere 
in the country or world. For West London, 
escalating land and property values can also 
be seen to be reinforcing this loss of 
manufacturing industry and employment (GLC, 
West London: The Public Inquiry into Jobs and 
Industry, 1985, in Townsend, Op Cit, p. 15). 
As a consequence of such de-industrialisation and labour 
shake-out, London, by the mid-1980s, had "The largest 
concentration of unemployment of any city of the 
industrial world" (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 12). Increased 
unemployment meant more poverty and inequality. As 
Townsend put it: 
170 
Every day [there is more evidence] of severe 
deprivation among the population of 6.5 
millions. There are people who are homeless 
and even some, early in 1986, who were 
sleeping in the open at the end of one of the 
hardest winters of this century. [Ten years 
on, of course, this 'novel' situation is now a 
firmly established expression of Metropolitan 
decline] There are disabled and elderly 
people too poor to keep the heating on during 
the day and too frightened to walk the 
surrounding streets on their own. There are 
unemployed people whose desperation to keep 
their families fed and clothed is acute. There 
are increasing numbers of people earning low 
pay in bad or thoroughly unsatisfactory 
working conditions (Op Cit, p. 3). 
Worsening social conditions were reflected in the 
increased take-up of discretionary state benefits. For 
example, between 1969 and 1983 the number of unemployed 
Londoners in receipt of means-tested benefits rose from 
20,700 to 231,700, an eleven-fold increase. Such figures 
led Townsend, writing in 1987, to conclude that "The 
economy of London interrelates more obviously with 
poverty than it did 20 years ago. Unemployment, 
underemployment, low wages, bad conditions at work and a 
pervasive insecurity more obviously characterise the 
social relationships of London than they did in the 
1960s" (Townsend, P. 9). The worsening economic 
conditions of the early 1980s affected not only the 
unemployed, but also, due to an increasing fear of 
unemployment, those still in work: 
Opinion polls demonstrate the growth in 
numbers of people expressing anxiety about 
their own and their children's future. 
Unemployment affects a much wider group of 
people than those who are unemployed at any 
one time. Large scale unemployment harms many 
of those people who are still in work by 
undermining their dependence upon job security 
(Townsend, p. 13). 
171 
Worsening levels of crime served to increase the level 
of fear and uncertainty felt by many Londoners in the 
early 1980s. Thus between 1980 and 1984, the number of 
notifiable offences known to the Metropolitan Police 
rose from 567,000 to 687,000. The fear generated by 
crime affected the community's ability to come to terms 
with London's sickly economy: 
[Crime] makes poverty worse because it 
isolates people and stultifies community 
support and the readiness of others to offer 
comfort and tangible gifts and services to 
mitigate or compensate for the privations 
which old people and unemployed people 
experience. As it becomes more and more 
extensive poverty multiplies material and also 
social forms of deprivation (Townsend, p. 52). 
Given their obvious news appeal, escalating crime rates 
were reported in detail in Hammersmith and Fulham's 
newspapers. For example, on March 25,1983, under the 
garish headline 'Thugs In Estate Campaign Of Terror', 
The Chronicle reported that "Heartless thugs have 
mounted a campaign of terror on old people living on a 
large Fulham estate... ", the level of crime, fear of 
crime, and intimidation being so bad that the streets 
and walkways of the estate were all but deserted after 
dark. Crimes against identifiable victims were also 
heavily reported, as in The Chronicle's leading crime 
story of January 28,1983, headlined 'Mugger Puts 80 
Year Old In Hospital'. 
According to Townsend, the situation of the unemployed 
and underprivileged was made worse during the 1980s by a 
general 'disengagement' of the prosperous and powerful 
172 
from the fate of the ordinary Londoner: 
In the London population there are substantial 
numbers who are well placed in today's 
conditions. However, what is interesting from 
our interviews with some of them is the level 
of recognition of their good fortune, combined 
with a kind of fatalism or what some would 
call 'disengagement' suggesting there is 
nothing they can really do about the poor. 
These fatalistic rich people are members 
of the professions and/or of powerful 
organisations, including trans-national 
corporations. They give an impression of 
shrugging their shoulders about their own 
relative affluence in the midst of so much 
squalor and desperation. What can I do? - each 
of them seems to be saying. The decisions are 
being taken out there by people and by 
organisations so much more powerful than 
myself. I am just a small cog in a large 
machine. I just get on with my immediate 
professional, or administrative or scientific 
expertise. It is not for me to descend to mere 
politics (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 64). 
Allowing for some exaggeration on Townsend's part, it 
can be seen that whatever 'disengagement' does exist 
presents society with a serious problem, for if the 
powerful - including those in formal politics - abandon 
the poor, who is there left to help them? It could be 
said that in Sands End, the social disengagement of the 
1980s has found expression in the Chelsea Harbour and 
Regent on the River developments, where high property 
prices, expensive shops and restaurants, security guards 
and cameras tend to exclude the less well off and 
reproduce and reinforce social privilege and associated 
elitist sentiments. Indeed, such exclusive developments 
may be seen as reifying both social disengagement and 
economic privilege. 
The consequences for Hammersmith and Fulham of the 
173 
disappearance of labour-intensive heavy industry from 
West London during the 1970s and 1980s were serious. 
While in 1978, unemployment in the Borough stood at 
5.5%, by 1984, the year in which the power station was 
demolished, it was 13%. (Whitting G., Implementing an 
Inner City Policy -A Case Study of the London Borough 
of Hammersmith and Fulham Inner Area Programme, The 
School for Advanced Urban Studies (SAUS), University of 
Bristol, 1985, p. 8). Partly as a result of such labour 
shake-out, by 1985 Hammersmith and Fulham found itself 
"One of London's most deprived Boroughs" (Ibid, p. 7). 
The steady loss of employment in the Borough throughout 
the 1970s prompted the government to launch the 
Hammersmith and Fulham Inner Area Programme (HFIAP) in 
April, 1979. In March, 1982, the local authority 
explained the programme's rationale: 
Inner Area Programmes are part of a system of 
joint funding by local authorities and Central 
Government, aimed at reducing the problems of 
unemployment, poverty and urban decay in 
Britain's inner cities (Civic News, LBH&F, 
p. 3) 
Fewer job opportunities coincided with a number of other 
damaging trends. Between 1975 and 1985, the Borough's 
population declined by 20% (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 12). The 
remaining population was increasingly polarised between 
the young and the old, tenants and owner-occupiers. 
Between 1971 and 1981, while the proportion of elderly 
residents rose from 17.5% to 18.8%, the proportion of 
children fell from 19.5% to 16.4%. However, despite this 
fall in the number of young people, youth unemployment 
174 
remained a significant problem (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 7). 
Polarisation also occurred within this age group, with 
young black people (an increasing proportion of the age 
group) suffering greater discrimination in the jobs 
market than their white counterparts. The experience of 
Hammersmith and Fulham's ethnic minorities was repeated 
across London. Thus the 1986 GLC London Labour Plan 
(based on the Labour Force Survey) showed that in 1981 
"Unemployment rates among Asian groups were about half 
as much again as, and among West Indian groups about 
twice, the average" (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 22) . The 
research also revealed an "Exceptionally large increase 
in unemployment in London wards known to have a high 
proportion of the population who are black". Within the 
ethnic community there was an "Exceptionally high rate 
of unemployment among young people and especially young 
people of West Indian descent" (Ibid). 
Adding to the misery of the unemployed during the 1980s 
was the decline in the real value of benefits. The 
reduction in the value of state benefits reflected the 
Thatcher government's determination that the unemployed 
should not 'price themselves out of the jobs market' 
(Townsend, Op Cit, p. 27) . Such monetarist policies, 
however, served only to impoverish the poor. Thus 
between 1983 and 1985 the income of the poorest decile 
of the population of Greater London fell from £60.66 per 
week to £46.60 per week (at 1985 prices) -a fall of 
23.2% (Townsend, Op Cit, Appendix 3). At the same time, 
the incomes of the wealthy rose dramatically. Thus while 
the real take-home pay of the bottom fifth of earners 
175 
fell by 2.9% between 1979 and 1985, that of the top 
fifth rose by 11.6% (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 49). Obviously, 
such figures would apply equally to the population of 
Hammersmith and Fulham. 
The squeeze on the public purse affected not only 
benefit levels but also the level of local services. In 
Hammersmith and Fulham, the Social Services and Housing 
departments found it increasingly difficult to discharge 
their statutory duties: In March, 1983, for example, The 
Fulham Chronicle reported that: 
The area teams of social workers were working 
under such pressure that some of the cases the 
council by law had to investigate and look 
after were not being done ('Needy Are Target 
For Latest Cuts', March 18). 
The following month the same paper, under the headline 
'Residents Vow To Fight On', reported the "Shelving of 
vitally needed and long-overdue improvements" on two 
Fulham Council estates (April 8,1983). 
As mentioned above, the property boom of the 1980s saw 
much gentrifying and 'trading up' activity in the 
Borough. This dynamism caused "A division within the 
Borough's population between the high income owner- 
occupiers and the low income or state supported tenants 
of public or private housing" (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 12). 
The decline in the value of benefits, increasing 
unemployment among the unskilled and semi-skilled, lack 
of opportunity and the downward pressure on wages 
conspired together to exacerbate the social chasm opened 
up by gentrification. The polarisation seen in 
176 
Hammersmith and Fulham in the 1980s reflected a general 
Metropolitan trend in which "Differences in style and 
standards of living in London - between rich and poor 
income groups and between prosperous and deprived areas 
- (became] very wide" (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 42). 
In Hammersmith and Fulham, deprivation was deep seated 
and chronic. Housing condition surveys done in the 1980s 
echoed some of the comments made by the Church in the 
Nineteenth Century on the squalor of Fulham's terraced 
housing. As one 1980s report put it, "The condition of 
the housing stock... in terms of amenities remains the 
worst in the country" (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 12). The 
persistence of sub-standard housing in Sands End led to 
the setting up of no fewer than three Housing Action 
Areas (HAAS). The HAAs, set up in 1976,1978 and 1979, 
embraced some 20% of the housing in Sands End. According 
to the General Report, Sands End Housing Action Areas, 
1980, these areas "Represent[ed] some of the very worst 
housing problems in the Borough" (Quoted in Bayliss, G., 
Op Cit). In one of the Sands End HAAS, 63% of households 
lacked a bath, 57% had no inside toilet and 40% either 
shared or lacked hot water (Ibid). It is reasonable to 
assume that some of these problems were present at the 
time of the power station debate. Certainly, the 
Borough's general housing problems coloured the early 
80s debate over the future of Chelsea Harbour. 
Thus in a 1983 radio interview, Tony Powell, one of 
Sands End's two Labour councillors, made the following 
appeal: 
177 
We need in Fulham... some housing for people 
who are in need... 
[T]he young people in Hammersmith and 
Fulham just aren't being allowed to live in 
their own Borough and that, I think, is quite 
scandalous (LBC 'AM' programme, broadcast 
April 26,1983 (transcript obtained from LBH&F 
Archive)). 
In 1982, there were 9,000 people on the Borough's 
council house waiting list. 
Hammersmith and Fulham's inadequate housing contributed 
to the problem of poor health amongst the less 
fortunate. The public were kept informed of the 
Borough's housing problem by the local press which 
(perhaps understandably for a tabloid medium) lighted on 
stories of mildew and maggots in neglected housing 
estates. In its March 11,1983 edition, for example, 
under the headline 'Rising Damp Slum Horror', The Fulham 
Chronicle reported on a structurally unsound Council 
flat: 
Two years old Lesley Grant puts on her wellies 
when she plays in the lounge. And her 
favourite game is splashing in the puddles - 
on the carpet! The tiny toddler's home ... is a dripping wet slum. 
It is worth comparing this contemporary description of 
housing decay in Fulham with that made by the Bishop of 
London in 1928, where he talked of 'water streaming down 
the walls' (See Denny, above). 
The GLC linked such deprivations to the contraction of 
state funding of local government. Again, its 
deliberations were reported in detail by The Fulham 
Chronicle. In April, 1983, for example, the paper 
178 
reproduced the following indictment of government 
'indifference' by the Chair of the GLC's Finance and 
General Purposes Committee: 
So much of London's basic infrastructure is 
deteriorating fast. A quarter of sewer pipes 
and water mains'are more than 100 years old. 
Much of the railway and Tube systems are over 
70 years old. Nearly a third of London homes 
were built in Victorian or Edwardian times 
('Rebuild Crumbling London - GLC', April 8, 
1983). 
The Chronicle went on to report that many of the 
capital's homes "Are unfit, in disrepair and lack basic 
amenities. The cost of meeting the backlog of repairs to 
London's total housing stock is put at £7,500 million". 
During the 1980s, health inequalities became an 
increasingly prominent feature of the sociology of the 
capital. Thus there were "Boroughs where the expectation 
of life [was] relatively low. These include [d] 
Hammersmith and Fulham... " (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 35). 
Such findings were consistent with the large number of 
Londoners - some 1.8 million people - who, in the early 
1980s, lived "In poverty or on the margins of poverty" 
(Ibid, P. 47). The deterioration in the condition of 
London's social capital - much of it dating from the 
Victorian and Edwardian eras - since the 1970s reflected 
in part a dramatic reduction in government subsidies to 
local authorities. Thus, despite the fact that "Between 
1979/80 and 1983/84 inner London gained £261m. through 
the urban programme, [it] lost over £2,000m. through 
cuts in the Rate Support Grant, reductions in the 
Housing Investment Programme and cuts in housing 
179 
subsidies" (GLC, Inner City Policy for London, in 
Townsend, Op Cit, p. 71). 
What is clear from the above statistics is that 
Hammersmith and Fulham, during the time of the Fulham 
Power Station debate, conformed very closely to 
Townsend's analysis of an increasingly polarised 
Metropolitan society. Witness, for example, the 
increasing gulf between Hammersmith and Fulham's 'haves' 
and 'have nots' : There were the home owners who could 
gain from playing the property market, and the non-home 
owners who could not. There were those with relatively 
secure service sector jobs, perhaps in the office 
complexes of Hammersmith Broadway, and those who had no 
choice but to rely on a shrinking and unstable 
manufacturing sector. There were the young, who could 
migrate to more prosperous boroughs or cities, and the 
old who were relatively immobile. There was the white 
majority, treated with reasonable equanimity, and the 
growing black minority who were subject to continued 
discrimination. There were those with marketable skills 
and/or qualifications, and those - often from 
underprivileged backgrounds - who possessed only limited 
skills and/or qualifications. The former were generally 
the first to be re-employed: 
In conditions of high unemployment it is 
workers with no recognised skills who become 
most vulnerable to loss of jobs and who find 
it hardest, especially in competition with the 
increased numbers of skilled workers to be 
made redundant, to obtain the few alternative 
jobs around (Townsend, Op Cit, p. 13). 
180 
There were those whose comfortable and secure lifestyles 
endowed them with above-average life expectancy, and 
those whose poverty consigned them to a lifetime of ill 
health and a premature death. There were those who could 
afford home insurance, and those - often living on the 
most crime-prone estates - who could not. (Whitting, Op 
Cit, p. 12, Townsend, Op Cit, p. 15 and p. 35). 
Furthermore, the early 1980s saw the beginning of a 
marked 'ghettoisation' of social problems and 
inequalities within the Borough. In Fulham, for example, 
there were marked inequalities between the four 
riverside wards, Crabtree, Palace, 'Sulivan and Sands End 
(traversing the Thames from west to east, with Crabtree 
adjacent to Hammersmith Bridge) . Thus in 1981, the 
percentage of economically active persons who were 
unemployed was 7.5 in Crabtree, 8.21 in Palace, 8.69 in 
Sulivan and 11.95 in Sands End. The wards also displayed 
marked inequalities in the numbers of semi- or unskilled 
workers resident. 'Thus while the working populations of 
Crabtree, Palace and Sulivan contained, respectively, 
14.92,7.19 and 13.95% semi- or unskilled workers, 
24.01% of Sands End's working population was semi- or 
unskilled. Finally, while the percentage of households 
with dependent children that were single parent 
households stood at 19.85,22.8 and 26.19% in Crabtree, 
Palace and Sulivan, in Sands End, 34.14% of households 
with children were single parent. Working on the 
assumption that semi- or unskilled workers and single- 
parent households suffer greater deprivation than other 
social groups, it can be seen that the early 1980s saw a 
181 
concentration of structural social inequality in Sands 
End. 
This multi-layered polarisation found expression in, and 
was exacerbated by such developments as Chelsea Harbour, 
Regent on the River and' the complementary Harbour Club, 
and in new-build Council estates that, due to 
indifferent architecture, design, build quality, 
management and maintenance, all too rapidly became 'sink 
estates' - or, as in Docklands, 'reservations' for the 
area's poor. (See Harrison P., Inside the Inner City - 
Life Under the Cutting Edge, Pelican, Britain, 1983, for 
an analysis of the social, economic and political 
aetiology of the 1980s inner-city 'sink estate'). 
The difference between the Metropolitan 'sink estate' 
and such grandiose schemes as P&O's Chelsea Harbour 
development could not be more stark. Chelsea Harbour "Is 
Thatcher's dream: luxury flats with river views, 
restaurants and shopping malls that exude the self- 
congratulatory odour of Yuppiedom" (Hubbard, Op Cit). 
Perhaps even more so than Docklands, Chelsea Harbour 
reflects the property-oriented individualism of the 
1980s. At least the LDDC, unlike the developers of 
Chelsea Harbour, took a stake in the wider community by, 
for example, investing significant sums of money in 
social housing refurbishment programmes. (In 1994/1995, 
for example, over £3 million was set aside by the LDDC 
for the rehabilitation of approximately 1,000 council 
homes ('Housing in London Docklands', LDDC, August, 
1994, p. 5)). While the remit of the LDDC was very much 
wider than that of the developers of Chelsea Harbour, 
182 
covering as it did the economic and social regeneration 
of docklands with a view to "Knitting together... old and 
new communities" ('Briefing: Case Study, Surrey Docks', 
LDDC), it is nevertheless the case that Chelsea 
Harbour's developers made no concessions whatsoever to 
the community in which the development was sited. This 
is unsurprising. During the early 1980s, Hammersmith and 
Fulham's then Conservative-controlled Council made 
little effort to affect the social composition of the 
development. Although the Council, according to the 
local paper, could have insisted that at least 50% of 
the new homes on the then British Rail-owned site should 
be low-cost, affordable homes, they adopted a 
determinedly laissez-faire approach. As the Conservative 
Chairman of the Planning Committee put it: 
At the moment... it [is] sufficient to 
recommend there should be low cost homes 
without having to say how many actual units 
there should be ('Locals Lose Chance To Own 
Riverside Homes', The Fulham Chronicle, 
September 2,1983). 
According to the opposition Labour group, this 'wait and 
see' approach proved that "The administration's sympathy 
was with 'London's Wealthy'". The Fulham Chronicle 
relayed the fears of the opposition in detail: 
Labour councillors say there is a real danger 
that high cost luxury riverside homes will be 
built on the 19 acre Chelsea Basin site with 
only a handful of low cost homes (The Fulham 
Chronicle, September 2,1983). 
Today, the development boasts not a single Council or 
low-cost home. Even the mooted sheltered housing failed 
183 
to materialise. While the general public is allowed (in 
principle) to walk around the development, the shopping 
malls and restaurants are aimed squarely at the tourists 
who stay at the development's exclusive hotel, the 
Conrad Hilton, and residents of the apartments. The 
underground car park may be reached by lifts within the 
complex, allowing residents access to their cars without 
any potentially distasteful or even dangerous engagement 
with the outside world. The shops within the complex 
deliver to the door, as do the 'security guards' if 
summoned by a worried resident. The boast is that any 
resident can be reached "Within 59 seconds (sic)" (Moore 
D., 'Joining The Jetty Set', The Evening Standard, July 
21,1993). 
While some might consider this style of Metropolitan 
living alienating, interviews with residents reveal a 
different perspective: as one 'celebrity resident' told 
the Evening Standard newspaper: 
It's very similar to Primrose Hill ... 
in that 
it's extremely sociable... I often get asked to 
dinner (Ibid). 
However, while Chelsea Harbour's sociability makes it an 
attractive retreat from the cut and thrust of city life, 
high property prices make it something of an exclusive 
club. In 1993, according to the Standard, a two 
bedroomed flat there would have cost £230,000 and a 
three bedroomed flat almost £300,000. 
Similar prices apply to the slightly later Regent on the 
River development, completed in 1989 (although one block 
184 
was left in a 'skeleton' condition when the London 
property market collapsed in mid-1989). Here, in 1993, 
prices ranged from £168,000 for a two bedroomed 
apartment to £375,000 for one with three bedrooms. A car 
parking space cost between £10,000 and £15,000 (Cluttons 
London Residential Agency, Price List, March, 1993). To 
put these prices in context, in 1993 average house 
prices ranged from £40,777 in Northern Ireland to 
£86,818 in Greater London (The Guardian, August 7, 
1993). 
Regent on the River, like Chelsea Harbour, boasts 
underground car parking, security guards and video 
surveillance. Car owners wishing to explore the Kings 
Road and points east need never tread the streets of 
Fulham. 
Adjacent to Regent on the River is the Harbour Club. 
When developers Skillion were attempting to obtain 
planning permission they were conscious of the. Council's 
wish to secure general community access to the 
facilities. There is no purpose-built leisure centre, 
public bath or sizeable park in Sands End. There is a 
youth club in an old chapel on Townmead Road, and a 
'community centre' in Broughton Road (actually a 
converted laundry), but neither has adequate facilities. 
The Broughton Road centre is conspicuously under- 
utilised, despite it being the headquarters of the 
neighbourhood's main community group, the Association of 
Residents in Sands End (ARISE). 
As a result of the Council's 'tough' negotiations, First 
185 
Leisure PLC, the club's managing agents, gave 
"Assurances that community sessions would be set up to 
make the facilities more accessible to families on low 
incomes" ('Sport For All at Station', The Fulham 
Chronicle, January 18,1990). According to the Fulham 
Gazette, First Leisure "Agreed to make four of the 
tennis courts available to a community sports scheme in 
off-peak hours during the week" ('Developers Plan 
Leisure Centre for Power Station Site', The Fulham 
Gazette, January 12,1990). 
To date, however, no concessions have been offered. The 
Harbour Club is open only to those who can afford the 
annual membership fee of several thousand pounds. The 
Princess of Wales is one such person. Presumably she is 
attracted by the Harbour Club's exclusivity. Across the 
road from the club is the 'planning gain' Council 
housing 'donated' by the Regent on the River developers. 
A high, solid perimeter fence separates the club from 
this and other housing. (The perimeter fence is violated 
only by the paparazzi, who follow and photograph the 
Princess. They stand on ladders). 
It is possible that the rejection of another Regent on 
the River type development, this one nearer Hammersmith 
on Fulham Reach, marked a turning point in public 
opinion. The plan to build an 'exclusive housing estate' 
of 268 flats met with significant local opposition, 
despite robust support for the scheme from the 
architectural fraternity. As one local firm put it, the 
scheme "Includes the elegant inevitability of near 
186 
perfection" (sic) (Rodell M., 'We Don't Want It! - 
Locals Cheer As Riverside Development Is Thrown Out', 
The Fulham Gazette, June 30,1989). 
Despite such 'near perfection', however, the development 
was refused planning permission. The Fulham Society, a 
voluntary heritage group, was 'delighted' 
It would appear that the 1990s marked a change of 
attitude amongst the Fulham public towards 'prestige' 
developments. Initially acquiescent Fulhamites began to 
reject these most visible and permanent icons of Late 
Modernity. Perhaps Fulham in the 1990s was no longer, as 
some had predicted in the 1980s, "The territory of 
tomorrow" (Hasker, Op Cit, p. 85). 
2.3 Environmental Develooments. 
The transformation of Fulham from market garden to 
industrial suburb was gradual. Fresh, locally grown 
watercresses could be bought as late as the 1920s, 
despite the urbanisation of the Nineteenth and Twentieth 
Centuries. Indeed, for the Fuihamites of the 1940s 
"There was still the recent memory of green fields where 
the power station now shadows the street" (Mooney, Op 
Cit, p. 19). 
Despite the gradual transformation, however, the adverse 
environmental effects of industrialisation were noted in 
the early Nineteenth Century. In and around the new gas 
works "Foul fumes made life unpleasant and unhealthy" 
(Denny, Op Cit, p. 131). By the 1870s the environmental 
effects of industry were reflected even in housing 
187 
decor: 
Most things would have been painted brown or 
black to hide, as much as possible, the 
coating of grime coming from the chimneys of 
houses or factories (Ibid). 
Despite the Victorians' awareness of the drawbacks of 
industrialisation and urbanisation, however, concern for 
the environment was tempered by a desire for economic 
growth and social improvement. The pragmatic mood of the 
period was perhaps best summarised by the Mayor of 
Chicago who, speaking of a city with an economy similar 
to that of London and drawing on the popular consensus 
of the late Nineteenth Century, made the following 1879 
appeal to 'common sense': 
A good sanitary condition is indispensable to 
the prosperity of the city. But sweet scents 
may not be its necessary concomitant-Too 
many are alarmed at an unpleasant but 
innocuous odour, and inhale with pleasure a 
sweet perfume laden with disease. I shall 
endeavour to foster healthfulness, yet not to 
destroy our great commercial interests 
(Briggs, Op Cit, p. 384). 
Despite such pragmatism, however, the growing 
environmental disamenity of the late Victorian and 
Edwardian eras gave rise to significant public disquiet. 
Concerns over the adverse environmental effects of 
Metropolitan power stations, for example, surfaced with 
especial vigour in the 1920s. Outside Fulham, 
"Complaints were made in 1924 by residents near Regent's 
Park ... of the pollution 
from two newer, larger stations 
(Marylebone and Grove Road) which were destroying 
vegetation in the neighbourhood" (Bowler and 
188 
Brimblecombe, Op Cit, p. 143). Nearer Sands End, 
Chelsea's Lots Road Power Station, built to supply 
electricity to the new underground rail network, came in 
for vigorous criticism. Thus, "Emissions from the Lots 
Road Power Station were alleged to have damaged the 
stonework of the Houses of Parliament" (Ibid, p. 144). 
There is little doubt that such criticism was deserved: 
The earliest power stations (late 19th 
century), despite their small size, caused 
considerable smoke nuisance. Generating power 
for London's electric railways produced much 
brown smoke in Chelsea (Ibid, p. 143) 
Interestingly, while the Lots Road Power Station 
attracted much criticism, the municipally funded, owned 
and managed Fulham Power Station caused little upset - 
at this time (Ibid, p. 147). 
In Fulham itself, general atmospheric conditions, which 
had never been particularly good, were significantly 
improved with the introduction of the 1956 Clean Air 
Act, when the burning of non-smokeless coal on open 
fires was prohibited. The Act was taken up 
enthusiastically by the Council: 
The southern part of Fulham suffered from poor 
atmospheric conditions for a number of 
reasons, and the Council pressed ahead 
vigorously with the implementation of the new 
law. Fulham [consequently] became the 
first.. . to complete 
its responsibilities under 
the Clean Air Act (Hasker, Op Cit, p. 79). 
The Clean Air Act had little bearing on Fulham Power 
Station, however, whose sulphurous emissions began to 
attract unfavourable comment. Indeed, some west London 
residents began writing letters of complaint to the 
189 
press. As the London Evening News reported in 1970: 
Fulham Power Station and the light industry 
based around that area have been the subject 
of complaints from a number of Evening News 
readers... 
What is Hammersmith doing about air 
pollution? The, spokesman pointed out that 
Hammersmith was the first Borough in London to 
implement the Clean Air Act ('Fumes Check On 
Power Station', July 14,1970). 
With the accelerating decline of manufacturing industry 
in the 1970s, the conversion of the gas works from coal 
to methane by North Thames Gas, the ending of coal 
burning at Lots Road Power Station, the closure of 
Battersea 'A' in 1975 and of Battersea 'B' in March, 
1983, and the closure of Fulham Power Station in 1978, 
Fulham's atmospheric pollution levels declined. 
Unfortunately, Fulham, and especially Sands End, still 
suffered from an ugly general dereliction. Some of the 
land along the river had simply fallen into disuse. Some 
land had been turned over to ad-hoc 'yardage', where 
cars might be scrapped, waste transferred or building 
materials sold wholesale. Some buildings had acquired 
temporary occupants who had little commitment to their 
maintenance or the appearance of the grounds in which 
they stood. 
The cumulative result was that Sands End presented a 
rather unattractive face to the world. As a researcher 
wrote of Fulham, there was "A poor environment in some 
areas deterring investment and interest in the Borough 
as a place to work and live" (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 13). 
In many respects the dereliction of Sands End in the 
1.20 
early 1980s matched that of London Docklands. However, 
while both riverside locations suffered from the 
"Decline of traditional industries and distribution 
services... inadequate roads and public transport access 
[and] deteriorating housing" ('Briefing: The Challenge 
of Urban Regeneration', LDDC), only the docklands 
communities benefited from the Conservative government's 
chosen instrument of economic intervention and community 
regeneration, the Urban Development Corporation (UDC). 
(Of course, the area affected in Docklands was much 
larger than that in Sands End). 
In addition to Fulham's poor general environment in the 
early 1980s, there were specific environmental risks and 
hazards - some generally applicable and some unique to 
Fulham - to contend with. Thus at the time of the power 
station debate in 1983/1984, lead pollution received 
significant attention in the local press. While lead 
pollution affected all urban communities, concerns were 
heightened in Fulham with the discovery of lead deposits 
in local schools. As a consequence of public concern, 
the Inner London Education Authority (ILEA) promised to 
remove all "Dangerous old lead paint" ('Lead Paint 
Battle Won', The Fulham Chronicle, January 28,1983). 
The lead issue received further publicity with the 
publication of the results of a study conducted in the 
neighbouring boroughs of Hammersmith and Fulham and 
Kensington and Chelsea into the effects of lead 
pollution on child development. The study, conducted by 
the Institute of Child Health and Southampton 
University, prompted ILEA to "Issue a pamphlet warning 
191 
parents about the danger of lead pollution" ('Warning of 
Lead Pollution', The Fulham Chronicle, January 28, 
1983). The fact that Fulham's Member of Parliament, 
Martin Stevens, chaired the Parliamentary panel of the 
Campaign for Lead Free Air (CLEAR) served only to 
heighten local awareness of the lead issue. When the 
government eventually committed itself to the phasing 
out of leaded petrol, Martin Stevens was quick to point 
out the benefits to child health: 
The acceptance of the recommendation that we 
should go lead-free marks the victory of our 
campaign and will bring relief to parents of 
young children throughout the land ('Stevens 
Joy At Lead Ban', The Fulham Chronicle, April 
29,1983). 
Local interest in the lead issue persisted throughout 
the year. In October, for example, The Fulham Chronicle 
printed a letter from a concerned resident under the 
headline 'Harm Lead Pollution Does To Our Children' 
(October 28,1983). 
The nuclear issue also figured in local environmental 
politics, due to the CEGB's use of the West London 
Extension Railway line to transport nuclear material. 
The issue was brought to the attention of the public 
through the activities of the GLC's Public Services and 
Fire Brigades Committee, whose proceedings were reported 
in detail by The Fulham Chronicle. Thus in November, 
1983, under the headline 'Fuel Transport Checks Made', 
the paper reported that the CEGB had "At last.. . begun to 
recognise the 'real and proper' concern of Londoners 
over the transportation of spent nuclear fuel through 
192 
the capital" (November 25,1983) . As a consequence of 
this recognition, it had commenced withdrawal of 
'unsatisfactory' transportation flasks. The nuclear 
issue was kept in the public eye by the enquiry into the 
proposal to build a second reactor at Sizewell in 
Suffolk. As part of its submission to the Sizewell 'B' 
enquiry, the GLC constructed a domesday scenario for the 
capital should a major accident occur at the proposed 
new reactor. The GLC's submission was reported in detail 
in the Chronicle: 
A scientific report commissioned by the GLC 
has confirmed that 24,000 Londoners could die 
of cancer if a catastrophic accident at the 
proposed Sizewell B nuclear power station in 
Suffolk happened during certain weather 
conditions ('Londoners Could Die Of Cancer', 
The Fulham Chronicle, June 24,1983). 
The report went on to explain that a major accident at 
Sizewell would necessitate the evacuation of half a 
million people within two days, and a further three 
million people within a month of a major release. It 
would not be safe for the evacuees to return for 
seventeen years. (Only fleeting mention was made in the 
report of the fact that such casualties would only occur 
if a major release coincided with atmospheric conditions 
that, on average, prevailed in the South East for just 
one hour in every month). 
The issue of noise nuisance also featured locally. Such 
issues often centred on builders' yards or waste 
stations. In one Fulham neighbourhood, for example, 
"Residents had complained that their lives were being 
made hell because of the dirt, dust and noise coming 
from [a builder's] yard" ('Residents In Row Over A 
Builders Yard', The Fulham Chronicle, May 13,1983). The 
proximity of such yards to housing also raised health 
issues. Thus, some residents had complained about a 
"Plague of flies buzzing around the [waste] compactor" 
of a local yard ('Living Hell For Tenants', The Fulham 
Chronicle, July 1,1983). During the 1970s, there were 
many complaints about the GLC's refuse incineration 
plant adjacent to the power station, which often belched 
'thick, black smoke'. In comparison, "The smoke from the 
[by now oil-fired] power station was hardly noticeable" 
('Fresh Air And Clean Water-And That's Worth A Million', 
The West London Observer, February 2,1973). 
The roads issue, a long-running theme in the 
environmental politics of Sands End, brought together 
several environmental preoccupations, including road 
safety, noise and atmospheric lead pollution. In Sands 
End, concerns were heightened in 1983 with the 
announcement that the scheme to widen Townmead Road, 
which had run for 34 years only to be 'finally' 
abandoned by the GLC in 1981, had been revived. 
According to local residents, the proposed road 
widening, which "Had put a blight on the district in the 
past" ('Sands End Row', The Fulham Chronicle, November 
4,1983), would cause Sands End to "Die a slow death". 
It was alleged that up to 80 homes would have to be 
demolished. The proposed road widening aroused strong 
emotions in Sands End. As The Fulham Chronicle put it: 
Angry Sands End residents have vowed they will 
194 
fight Council plans to demolish homes and 
build a four-lane highway bordering the 
district ('Residents Unite To Fight Road 
Plan', December 9,1983). 
The 'angry residents' were supported by Fulham's GLC 
member: 
Sands End will die a slow death if the plan 
goes ahead... property will remain unimproved 
(The Fulham Chronicle, December 9,1983). 
The scheme aroused the anger even of the power station 
activists, whose leadership, although busy with their 
campaign, made sure their views were known ('Residents 
Unite To Fight Road Plan', The Fulham Chronicle, 
December 9,1983). (While local opposition to the road 
widening scheme was no doubt well intentioned, there was 
a certain irony in a community desperate for economic 
regeneration opposing a potentially highly productive 
addition to the transport infrastructure of Sands End. 
After all, it was commonly acknowledged that the 
neighbourhood's transport links were in urgent need of 
improvement. Of course, if those opposing the scheme 
were already in employment, such opposition would appear 
less incongruous). 
Fulham's MP kept the roads issue alive by voicing his 
concerns over local traffic levels should a fifth 
terminal be built at Heathrow. According to Martin 
Stevens, a fifth terminal would make traffic levels in 
Fulham "intolerable" for his constituents ('MP Joins 
Heathrow Terminal Battle', The Fulham Chronicle, July 1, 
1983). 
Some weeks before the announcement of the sale of Fulham 
Power Station, the local press covered the GLC's 
initiative on what it called the 'asbestos issue'. The 
GLC was in no doubt as to the risks and hazards 
presented by the mineral. As the chairwoman of the 
Council's Environmental Panel put it: 
Asbestos is dangerous. We must stop producing 
it where we can find suitable alternatives. 
There are licensed sites where asbestos can be 
disposed of properly and specialised 
contractors who can remove it safely ('GLC 
Calls For Phasing Out Of Asbestos', The Fulham 
Chronicle, April 8,1983). 
The Environmental Panel, which estimated that the 
capital produced some 50,000 tonnes of asbestos waste 
annually, announced its intention to produce a leaflet 
on the subject of asbestos hazard. The Panel also put 
forward an 'action plan' to combat asbestos risks and 
hazards. The plan called for a complete ban on imports, 
the production of safe alternatives to the mineral, the 
licensing of asbestos removal contractors, and the 
setting up of a 'hardship fund' to aid those who lacked 
the required financial resources to remedy the problem. 
The Fulham Chronicle, which historically had covered the 
GLC's deliberations in some depth, took the opportunity 
presented by the Environmental Panel's lobbying of 
central government to make the public aware of the 
origins and risks of airborne asbestos dust in the urban 
environment: 
Mesothelioma... may result from exposure to 
very low levels of airborne asbestos... It has 
proved difficult to establish definitely where 
background asbestos in the air comes 
196 
from. . . but it is likely to arise from abrasion 
of vehicles' brake linings, demolition of 
buildings containing asbestos, and poor 
disposal methods (April 8,1983). 
For its part, the GLC was convinced that asbestos 
presented at least as great a risk to the health of the 
people of London as did atmospheric lead. As the 
Chairwoman of the Environmental Panel put it: 
While we congratulate the government for 
agreeing to take steps against lead pollution, 
we would expect the same action on asbestos, 
which we know kills people. Our next major 
battle is to get the government to rapidly 
phase out asbestos production and imports 
('Report On Lead Pollution Welcomed', The 
Fulham Chronicle, April 29,1983). 
In the May 13 edition of The Fulham Chronicle, with the 
sale of Fulham Power Station just announced, the 
public's attention was drawn to another local asbestos- 
related drama - not a stone's throw from the power 
station's riverside site. This time the media focus was 
on an asbestos-contaminated tower block: 
A major investigation to check council tower 
blocks for killer asbestos dust is being 
carried out by housing officials. This follows 
the discovery of the lethal substance in 
Jepson House, Pearscroft Road. The [brown] 
asbestos in Jepson House was discovered when 
workmen were called to repair ceilings damaged 
by vandals... 
Workmen wearing protective suits will be 
ripping the asbestos out of the 16 storey 
block... four floors at a time... Families will 
be accommodated in the Sands End Community 
Centre from Bam to 7pm ('Asbestos Dust 
Investigation At Tower Block', The Fulham 
Chronicle, May 13,1983). 
The incident attracted the attention of the prospective 
Labour Party general election candidate for Fulham, Tony 
197 
Powell, who professed his 'concern', although he 
insisted; "There is no immediate cause for panic" (The 
Fulham Chronicle, May 13,1983). The same edition of The 
Fulham Chronicle that broke the Jepson House story 
covered the sale of Fulham Power Station on its front 
page, under the headline 'Furious Residents Up In Arms'. 
Such environmental alarms occurred against a backloth of 
inexorable physical decline. Thus, Sands End, throughout 
the 1980s, presented a crumbling, decaying face to the 
world (not least due to the blighting of the area for so 
long by the plan to transform Townmead Road into a major 
arterial route). The physical dereliction reflected and 
reinforced a general social, economic and political 
decay. In 1983, for example, despite a 4,000 signature 
petition from Fulham residents, the local authority cut 
its leisure and recreation budget by over £1 million 
(The Fulham Chronicle, February 18,1983). This meant no 
new park in Sands End. Later in the year, despite the 
local authority's estimate of a total spend for 
1984/1985 of £61.6 million, the government set a target 
of £57.5 million (The Fulham Chronicle, October 21, 
1983). As transport subsidies were cut, Sands End became 
even more isolated. In February, 1983, for example, The 
Fulham Chronicle highlighted the infrequency of one of 
the area's main bus services. According to the paper, 
"Waiting for a number 11 bus is like fishing for a 
salmon in the Sahara" ('A Rare Catch In Fulham', 
February 11,1983). 
The neighbourhood's drabness and mounting sense of 
198 
abandonment was made more acute by a general lack of 
open space. In comparison with the neighbourhood to the 
west of the Wandsworth Bridge Road which could boast the 
extensive greenery of Hurlingham Park and South Park, 
Sands End had only Langford Gardens, with its concrete 
football pitch and playground. This, according to one 
observer, was indicative of "An extremely one-sided 
distribution of amenities" (Bayliss, G., Op Cit). 
The lack of green open space in Sands End in comparison 
with other parts of the Borough was (belatedly) 
recognised by the local authority in its 'Unitary 
Development Plan' (UDP) drafted in the early 1990s. 
Regarding the future of the riverside land owned by 
British Gas, the planners called for "A park, accessible 
to the public-of at least 1.8 hectares (4.45) acres" 
('Site 32 British Gas Riverside Site', London Borough of 
Hammersmith and Fulham, Urgency Committee Minute, March 
11,1993). Neither Chelsea Harbour's nor Regent on the 
River's developers saw fit to provide more than the 
absolute minimum of public open space. (And what little 
space was made available was not truly public, but 
private property policed by security firms). In 
contrast, the contemporary LDDC (although working to a 
much wider remit) pursued a vigorous amenity policy: 
Over 100,000 trees [were] planted, new parks 
and gardens created, existing parks 
refurbished and extensive river and dock-side 
walkways constructed ('Ecology in London 
Docklands', LDDC, November, 1994, p. 2). 
Sands End also displayed the various other forms of 
urban environmental stress. There was noise pollution 
199 
from aircraft that descend over Fulham to land at 
Heathrow (Fulham is on a major flight path), from the 
heliport on the Wandsworth bank of the Thames directly 
opposite Sands End, and from traffic on the busy 
approach road to Wandsworth Bridge. Exhaust emissions 
from both aircraft and road traffic were another source 
of pollution.. 
Fulham is especially affected by aircraft landing at 
Heathrow. The airport is now the busiest in the world, 
handling over 40 million passengers annually. This 
translates into an aircraft descending over the Borough 
to land at Heathrow every 90 seconds at peak periods 
(Parkinson M., 'Green Campaign to Fight Another Airport 
Terminal', The Fulham Gazette, April 30,1993). 
As a local Friends of the Earth spokesperson has pointed 
out, apart from the noise nuisance, "High levels of 
nitrogen oxide emitted by aircraft. .. pose a 
health risk" 
(Ibid) . It 
is feared that if a fifth terminal is built 
at Heathrow, such hazards will become more acute. 
However, while the British Airports Authority, 
responsible for managing the airport, admits that 
traffic levels will increase by 10%, it denies this will 
produce an equivalent increase in noise and air 
pollution: 
Our computer modelling indicates residents 
would be unable to detect extra noise levels. 
As for pollutants, we believe there will be no 
significant impact on neighbouring communities 
(Parkinson M., 'Green Campaign to Fight 
Another Airport Terminal', The Fulham Gazette, 
April 30,1993). 
200 
(At the time of the Fulham Power Station debate, noise 
levels may well have been greater due to the use of 
turbo-jet rather than quieter, modern turbofan engines). 
Helicopters using the heliport on the Wandsworth bank of 
the Thames add to the area's noise problems. While local 
opposition to 'helicopter nuisance' has never been 
great, the February, 1993, proposal by Thames Heliport 
PLC to moor a landing platform at Chelsea Harbour, 
thereby increasing helicopter traffic into the area, 
caused much comment in the press, and some reaction from 
community leaders. (Such platforms are exempt from local 
authority planning controls. They are subject only to 
Port of London and Civil Aviation Authority 
regulations). The chairperson of ARISE, for example, 
asserted: 
The whole idea is diabolical. Nobody has 
bothered to ask what we think-Our stress 
levels will rise because of the noise and 
traffic (Hodges L., 'Heliport Flies Into 
Storm', The Fulham Chronicle, February 24, 
1993). 
In addition, the chairperson of the Noise Abatement 
Society warned: 
If even one machine were to crash on a busy 
London street the carnage would be horrific 
(Hodges). 
While Thames Heliport PLC had not met with the local 
authority to discuss their proposed flight operations, 
newspaper enquiries revealed that the helipad would 
operate from Bam to 5pm, five days a week. Up to five 
flights per hour were planned ('Don't Let Helipad Get 
Off The Ground', The Fulham Chronicle, April 28,1993). 
201 
As a result of media attention and local activism, 
Hammersmith and Fulham Council decided in April, 1993, 
to seek legal advice on how the plan could be 
challenged. 
One of the enduring concerns of Sands End residents is 
the amount of noise and atmospheric pollution caused by 
traffic. In the early 1980s (as mentioned above), the 
proposed 'Western Environmental Improvement Route' 
(WEIR), which would have driven a major highway through 
Sands End from Chelsea Harbour to Wandsworth Bridge, 
requiring the demolition of many homes, met with 
significant opposition from both the local authority and 
residents. The Transport Minister's decision to abandon 
WEIR (after spending £2.5 million studying motor traffic 
patterns in West London) 'delighted' local activists. 
The local authority, too, was pleased. As the Council's 
planning chief put it: 
WEIR would have been an utter disaster, 
blighting hundreds of homes and ruining our 
environment (Davies P., 'End Of The Road - 
Delight as Minister Ditches WEIR Scheme', The 
Fulham Chronicle, March 29,1990). 
After the decision, a community leader, demanding that 
"Levels of pollution and noxious gases from transport... 
be kept to a minimum" (Hanley T., 'A Cure for our 
Traffic Chaos', The Fulham Gazette, January 11,1991), 
called for significant new investment in public 
transport, especially local buses. As a result, 
community groups concerned with urban congestion and 
pollution declared 1991 'The Year of the Bus'. 
202 
Besides that produced by aircraft and motor traffic, the 
'yardage' adjacent to Chelsea Harbour also causes 
(local) noise and atmospheric pollution. The new waste 
transfer stations, which are a prime source of noise and 
dust during loading and. unloading operations, continue 
the area's long-standing relationship with (what would 
now be called) 'nuisance' industries. 
A recently discovered major environmental problem in 
Sands End is that of contaminated land. During the 
1990s, the issue has received significant press 
attention. For example, in a March, 1993 issue, The 
Fulham Chronicle devoted most of its front page to a 
story headlined 'Toxic Site Not Fit To Live In'. The 
story derived from a recent report, commissioned by 
British Gas, on the condition of its derelict land in 
Sands End. The report, by the consulting engineers Ove 
Arup and Partners, detailed the results of extensive 
soil tests on two British Gas (North Thames) sites. The 
first, known as 'Site 32' in the Borough's Unitary 
Development Plan, lies on the river to the south of the 
West London Extension Railway, directly opposite Chelsea 
Harbour. The second, 'Site 47', also to the south of the 
railway, is adjacent to the British Gas (North Thames) 
gasometers. While a proportion of Site 32 is derelict, 
Site 47 is used as 'yardage'. 
Ove Arup's investigations revealed "Significant chemical 
contamination of both Made Ground and perched 
groundwater" (Ove Arup and Partners, 'Imperial Wharf, 
Fulham, Ground Contamination and its Impact on 
Redevelopment, Volume 1, Text 45980/RHO/rp22/sp1002', 
203 
January, 1993, p. 3). The chemical contaminants 
identified at Site 32, for example, were sulphate, 
sulphide, mineral oils and "Localised extremely high 
concentrations of chlorides" (Ove Arup and Partners, Op 
Cit, p. 4). Also found were "Very high concentrations of 
methane beneath the whole of the... site" (Ibid, p. 6). 
The report summarises the level of chemical 
contamination at both sites as follows: 
With reference to published guidelines (Kelly, 
1980... ) the degree of chemical contamination 
was found to be "heavy" or "unusually heavy" 
for at least one contaminant at most of the 
investigation locations (Ibid, p. 4). 
Public reaction to the report was swift and emphatic. 
There was a consensus amongst community activists that 
the polluter, British Gas PLC, should pay for the 
contamination to be removed. (The cost of removal was 
estimated at £8-£12 million (Ove Arup and Partners, Op 
Cit, p. 13)). As a written testimony to the Inspector at 
the UDP Inquiry put it: 
The cost of cleansing the land at £8-£12 
million is a large sum but is relatively small 
[in relation to] the long period from which it 
has produced industrial profits, mainly gas 
related. It should be realised as a civic duty 
to clean the land (sic) (Association of 
Residents in Sands End, 'Precis of Matter 
Delivered Verbally to Inquiry Inspector at 
U. D. P. Hearing, 4th March, 1993'). 
(Despite the strong reaction to Arup's report, however, 
it should be remembered that at the time of the power 
station debate, there was very little, if any, awareness 
of the problem of contaminated land - at least judging 
from the level of press (non-) reporting of the issue 
204 
and quietude of the Association of Residents In Sands 
End). At an earlier meeting between community 
representatives, the local authority, British Gas PLC 
and prospective developers P&O, it had been explained 
that "Residents were concerned that the contamination 
should be cleared and prevented from spreading into the 
local community" (Sands End Planning Consultative Group, 
'Notes of Meeting Held on Wednesday, 16 September, 1992, 
Sands End Community Centre, 59 Broughton Road, SW6', 
Paragraph 2.3). 
There was also consensus on the future use of the land. 
As the chairperson of the Association of Residents in 
Sands End (ARISE), put it: 
The land needs rest and recuperation after 150 
years of heavy industrial use. It would 
benefit from trees and open space (Hodges L., 
'Toxic Site Not Fit To Live In', The Fulham 
Chronicle, March 10,1993). 
This view was echoed by the chairperson of the Council's 
Environment Committee: 
We want to see an area of"open space or 
parkland to boost the local environment for 
residents (Ibid). 
As may be gathered from such statements, the cause of 
environmentally-sensitive regeneration is promoted by 
both local authority councillors and officers, and Sands 
End community leaders. While interested residents have 
sought to promote it through associations like ARISE, 
the Council has established it as one of the 
cornerstones of its Unitary Development Plan: 
205 
Sands End riverside was for many years the 
home of public utilities and bulk handling 
industries serving the needs of Inner London 
and using the river and rail for transport. 
These industries provided much local 
employment but blocked the river from public 
use and detracted from the local 
environment... The Council's policy is to 
retain [Sands End] as an employment zone 
source of local jobs. However, in recognition 
of the unique opportunity of both large areas 
of land and a riverside location-the Council 
wishes to include a mix of other uses which 
will open up the riverside as a place where 
activity occurs both day and night, and where 
a sense of place can be achieved and a unique 
character brought to the area ('Hammersmith 
and Fulham UDP 1992', Part 2, Employment, 
Paragraphs 7.68 and 7.70). 
In short, it is hoped that with sensitive planning, 
Sands End can be redeveloped to provide for both the 
employment and recreational needs of its residents, 
while maintaining a pleasant living environment. 
While a return to the idyllic (as Hammersmith resident 
William Morris might have it) pre-modern days of 'Fulham 
Meadows' is clearly impossible, there is a determination 
that the worst excesses of Nineteenth and Twentieth 
Century urbanisation and industrialisation can be at 
least ameliorated, if not undone. 
3 Conclusion. 
In conclusion it can be seen that the physical, social 
and economic and environmental complexion of 'the 
village by the sand' has changed quite dramatically 
since its founding. Such changes reflect in large part 
the urbanisation and industrialisation of the Nineteenth 
and Twentieth Centuries, demise of the post-Second World 
War settlement and rise of a neo-Liberal national 
206 
politics, the recent (engineered) decline of 
manufacturing industry, and an 'overflow' of 
gentrification from neighbouring Boroughs. 
Such changes have, however, been paralleled by powerful 
continuities. Sands End, for example, has always been an 
economically active neighbourhood, whether engaged in 
the production of fruit and vegetables, beer, baskets, 
pottery, building materials, town gas, electricity or, 
today, salvage from scrap, superstore shopping and 
exclusive leisure opportunities. 
Unfortunately, and despite such economic dynamism, Sands 
End has suffered from poverty, poor housing and general 
neglect since its establishment in the mid-Sixteenth 
Century. Thus the market gardens provided no more than 
unstable, seasonal employment. The Fulham Union 
Workhouse was, even on completion, inadequate to the job 
of accommodating the Borough's destitute. At the time of 
the coronation of Edward VII, approximately a quarter of 
the population lived in absolute poverty (how many 
Fulhamites lived in relative poverty at this time is 
unknown). Even in the early 1980s after 40 years of 
state welfarism, Keynesian economics and inclusive, 
pluralist politics, the London Borough of. Hammersmith 
and Fulham remained "One of London's most deprived 
Boroughs" (Whitting, Op Cit, p. 7), with a rising level 
of unemployment, decaying housing stock and reduced 
local authority education, public health, welfare and 
recreation services. 
The employment outlook reached its nadir at about the 
207 
time of the power station debate. As LBH&F's 1991 report 
Poverty and Deprivation in Hammersmith and Fulham 
explained: 
Unemployment in the Borough increased between 
1983 and 1986 and, reached a high point of 
13,044 in April, ' 1986 (LBH&F Development 
Planning Department, December, 1991, p. 31). 
Sands End has also suffered chronic and severe 
environmental disamenity - whether in the form of 'foul 
fumes' from the coal-reducing gas works, ash and sulphur 
deposits from the power station, thick smoke from the 
GLC refuse incinerator, noise nuisance from waste 
transfer stations, builders yards, helicopters and 
passenger jets, lead pollution from the ever-increasing 
volume of traffic funnelled through the neighbourhood's 
arterial routes, or the general visual disamenity of a 
neighbourhood in slow decline. 
The recent history of Sands End is one of social schism. 
Since the late 1970s, a divide has opened up between the 
'haves' and the 'have nots' (while this has happened 
across the country, London exhibits the extremes of the 
condition. This is due firstly, to the spawning of a 
super rich and 'super poor' class within the capital, 
and secondly, to the close physical proximity of the 
classes within the Metropolitan landscape). Sometimes 
this divide is covert, as with institutionalised class 
or race discrimination, and sometimes overt, as in the 
reification of social and economic privilege through 
such developments as Canary Wharf in Docklands, and by 
Chelsea Harbour, Regent on the River and the Harbour 
208 
Club in Sands End. Such exclusive developments could be 
said to be an allegory on and reflection of the 
accelerated economic individualism of the 1980s, ' and on 
the consequent fracturing of British society. (See Gray, 
J., The Undoing of Conservatism, Social Market 
Foundation, Britain, 1994, for an account of the 
aggressive re-ordering of British society under the 
Conservative governments of the 1980s). 
The perceived demise of social cohesion has been a 
prominent feature of recent intellectual discourse. 
According to Therborn, for example, society is 
fracturing along three increasingly distinct 'fault 
lines'. Occupying the bottom level of the 'British 
Beehive' are the 'permanently unemployed and marginally 
employed', who occupy "A position of supported 
marginality". In the middle are the 'stably employed' 
who are "Making a fairly decent living, no more... " 
(Hall and Jacques, p. 111), and at the top are the 
'capitalists and top business managers'. In the context 
of Sands End, it could be said that the first two groups 
are to be found living (although not necessarily 
interacting) amidst the terraces, while the 'captains of 
manufacturing and knowledge-based industries' rent or 
buy a Chelsea Harbour or Regent on the River pied-a- 
terre, and work-out at the Harbour Club. As to the 
relative size of each class within Sands End, despite 
the gentrifying effect of such developments as Chelsea 
Harbour, most residents are either unemployed, 
marginally employed or, although in full-time 
employment, vulnerable to the uncertainties of the 
209 
short-term contract. (Such uncertainty and instablity is 
not new, of course. The same chill economic winds were 
felt by the residents of Sands End in Victorian and 
Edwardian times. See Briggs, Op Cit, p. 328, above). 
Therborn is not alone in postulating a two thirds, one 
third' contemporary 'social vista. Mulgan, for example, 
in his analysis of Metropolitan conditions, notes "The 
division between a relatively prosperous majority and a 
pauperised minority (particularly in the South East, the 
most unequal part of Britain) ... and the 
familiar 
coexistence of private affluence and public squalor" 
(Hall and Jacques, Op Cit, p. 263). 
While such dramatic analyses can over-simplify complex 
social trends, they do reflect the transformation of the 
socio-economic complexion of Sands End during the 1980s. 
While the community had always been under stress, the 
demise of the post-war settlement in the 1970s, followed 
in the 1980s by the demise of corporatist and consensus 
politics, promotion of the interests of capital over 
those of labour, and erosion of the Welfare State (see 
Gray and Hall and Jacques on all these points), put the 
majority of Sands End residents under great economic and 
social pressure. The fact that the community 
accommodated this pressure with stoicism (ignoring the 
occasional violent protests seen elsewhere in London), 
does not mean that it played any less of a part in 
influencing residents' attitudes and behaviour. Socio- 
economic change is the tableau against which all 
individual and community activity - including 
environmental protest - must be measured and understood. 
210 
Chapter 4 
Formal and Informal Politics in Sands End 
1 Introduction. 
This chapter outlines the formal and informal politics 
of Sands End, from the power station debate of 1983/1984 
to the present day. 
One of the most interesting features of the politics of 
Sands End is the existence of what could be described as 
a pseudo-Parish Council - namely the Association of 
Residents in Sands End (ARISE). ARISE was formed in 1974 
as an offshoot of the roads protest group Townmead 
Estate Residents Revolt Over Road (TERROR). (More will 
be said about TERROR in the next section). 
The birth of ARISE meant that at the time of the power 
station debate, the inhabitants of Sands End could 
secure representation through two local democratic 
mechanisms: Firstly through the Association's sixteen 
strong committee, and secondly through the two 
councillors who represented Sands End on the local 
authority. 
While the Association may not have been able to do as 
much as a formally-constituted Parish Council, its 
procedures and interests were remarkably similar. For 
example, a Parish Council usually meets monthly: ARISE 
met ten times a year; Parish Councils are re-elected 
once every four years: The ARISE committee was re- 
elected annually (although only by those locals who had 
paid to join the Association); Parish Councils may raise 
211 
monies by hiring out halls or organising specific fund- 
raising events: ARISE was responsible for managing a 
large hall (at its headquarters in the Broughton Road 
Centre) and some office accommodation, and organised 
social events throughout the Sands End area; Parish 
Councils are invited to comment on Planning Applications 
submitted to District or County Councils: ARISE 
routinely saw all Applications pertaining to Sands End. 
Additionally, the Sands End Planning Consultative Group 
provided a platform for local people to express views on 
major plans for the area; Parish Councils can fund local 
groups like youth football teams: ARISE funded several 
local groups, a favourite being play schemes. 
The Association's leadership has never doubted its 
status. As the Chairman remarked at the 1993 Annual 
General Meeting (AGM), "ARISE is acting like an old 
Parish Council". 
Thus it could be said that since 1974, Sands End has 
enjoyed a two-tier system of local government, one 
formal (the local authority), the other ad-hoc (ARISE). 
It should also be remembered that at the time of the 
power station debate, London had its own metropolitan 
government, in the form of the (threatened) Greater 
London Council (GLC), and that, as today, Fulham was a 
parliamentary constituency in its own right. 
Consequently, at the time of the demolition, Sands End 
residents were able to express themselves through either 
the two local councillors, ARISE, their GLC 
representative or the sitting MP. 
212 
2 Informal Political Culture. 
2.1 Townmead Estate Residents Revolt Over Road 
(TERROR). 
TERROR came into being to oppose plans to turn one of 
the main residential roads in Sands End, Townmead Road 
(incidentally the road on which the power station was 
sited), into a 'semi-motorway'. Such plans had been 
mooted for many years, and were vigorously opposed by 
the organisation whenever they appeared on the formal 
political agenda. 
Confusingly, both TERROR and ARISE acted to mobilise 
opposition to road schemes in Sands End. Sometimes the 
memberships of the organisations overlapped. Quite why 
this happened is unclear, although there is some 
evidence of disagreement over tactics. To some people, 
ARISE represented a rather pedestrian, establishment 
form of pressure group politics. As one member of TERROR 
put it, "[ARISE members] are literally a comfortable 
load of people who sit around a table... they are not 
really campaigners as such" (CD: Interviewed September 
17,1993). TERROR, on the other hand, seemed to offer a 
more vigorous form of 'protest politics' (or, as Ulrich 
Beck might have it, 'sub-politics'). 
The shared interest of TERROR and ARISE caused confusion 
in the press. Thus, when the scheme to widen Townmead 
Road was resurrected in December 1983 (having been 
'finally' scrapped by the GLC in 1981), both 
213 
organisations sought to speak for the residents of Sands 
End. Indeed, at one point, the Chairman of ARISE was 
said to be speaking on behalf of both groups. 
As far as the debate over the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station was concerned, it is 
clear that TERROR provided the focus for community 
protest. There were a number of reasons for this. 
Firstly, when the plan to demolish the power station was 
announced, the community's initial concern focused on a 
possible influx of heavy lorries and other plant into 
the area. Given TERROR's concern with road traffic 
levels, the demolition seemed a natural issue for the 
group. The second reason lay in TERROR's campaigning 
style. When it dawned on people that the main health 
threat posed by the demolition lay not in extra road 
traffic, but in the possibility of asbestos 
contamination, it seemed that TERROR, with its more 
aggressive campaigning style, would serve the community 
best in any confrontation with contractors, local and/or 
central government. The third reason lay in TERROR's 
independence from local government. Unlike ARISE, it 
received no income from the local authority. This 
financial independence attracted those who suspected 
that council monies always came with strings attached. 
The final reason was TERROR's informality and absence of 
bureaucracy. Activists felt that this lent the group a 
flexibility and responsiveness that would serve the 
community well in a rapidly developing situation. (This 
is apparent from the interview responses recounted in 
Chapter 7). 
214 
Although the members of TERROR devoted an enormous 
amount of energy to the power station debate, they never 
abandoned their interest in the roads issue. Thus, when 
the Townmead Road widening scheme reappeared on the 
political agenda in December, 1983, TERROR, despite its 
heavy involvement with the demolition issue, took the 
lead in opposing the scheme. A meeting, attracting 150 
residents, was held at a local community hall, and a 
1,500 signature petition opposing the road scheme was 
raised. TERROR's leader - also one of the three women 
most active in the power station campaign - found time 
to put alternative traffic plans to the local authority. 
One of the main themes of the protest concerned the 
adverse effect the scheme would have on property values. 
As a local newspaper put it: 
Broughton Road community hall was packed for 
the consultative meeting... Bitter residents 
complained at the meeting that if the scheme 
got the go-ahead, 80 homes would be bulldozed, 
the value of many more homes would sink... and 
Sands End would "die a slow death" ('Residents 
Unite To Fight Road Plan', The Fulham 
Chronicle, December 9,1983). 
Fulham's other local paper concurred with this analysis 
of the residents' motives: 
The residents are angry because it will... mean 
the return of a blight on the area which they 
finally persuaded the GLC to lift only 15 
months ago ('Road Plans Kicked out,, West 
London Observer, December 8,1983). 
It is apparent from the above that both TERROR's member? 
and the general public were as concerned about the 
adverse personal economic effects of the road scheme as 
215 
they were about its environmental effect. 
2.2 The Association of Residents in Sands End. 
2.2.1 History. 
ARISE was formed in 1974 as an offshoot of the south 
Fulham anti-road (and power station protest) group 
TERROR. While ARISE retained an interest in road and 
other transport issues, its brief expanded to include 
anything that might affect the lives of Sands End 
residents. The Association's comprehensive brief was 
summarised in 1992: 
ARISE is a non-political association intended 
to benefit and serve all sections of the 
community in their local activities and needs 
(ARISE Newsletter, Autumn, 1992). 
Thus, at the time of the power station debate, the 
Association's constitution did not preclude it from 
acting as an advocate for local health campaigners. In 
practice, however, it was TERROR that 'carried the 
fight' to the contractors, CEGB, local and central 
government. (The ARISE view is that the Association 
played a key role in the campaign. As a newsletter has 
stated; "We were influential when the Fulham Power 
Station was knocked down about 1984... " (ARISE 
Newsletter, Autumn, 1992)). 
2.2.2 Obiectives. 
ARISE exists both to represent the interests of local 
residents in negotiations with outside agencies, and to 
216 
maintain and enhance community spirit within Sands End. 
This latter objective is a key theme in all ARISE 
activities. As the Association's publicity puts it: 
This part of Fulham has a unique sense of 
community and the main concern of ARISE is to 
protect and encourage this spirit in every way 
possible (ARISE Membership Pamphlet). 
Sands End is often referred to in ARISE publicity as 
'Sands End Village'. Indeed, the Association organises 
the annual 'Sands End Village Festival'. The philosophy 
is therefore one of building community spirit and 
maintaining the area's distinct character. These tasks 
are made easier by the relative isolation of Sands End 
within the Borough. As explained in the previous 
chapter, Sands End is located in a pocket in the 
southern half of Fulham, and is bounded by the Thames, a 
railway line and two very busy roads. Such clear 
demarcation, in concert with a general lack of through 
communication links (there are no rail or tube stations 
in, or even near, Sands End), serve to build a distinct 
village atmosphere. (This process can be seen in other, 
equally isolated parts of Hammersmith and Fulham. There 
is, for example, the area known as 'Brackenbury Village' 
in Hammersmith itself. Brackenbury Village bears a close 
resemblance to Sands End in that it is relatively 
isolated and free from through public transport links. 
As in Sands End, there are some very pleasant, quiet 
roads. Unlike Sands End, however, this facility has been 
profitably exploited by the stylish bars and bistros 
that litter the area). 
217 
ARISE considers itself - perhaps somewhat immodestly - 
to be the focal point for the concerns of individual 
residents and of other groups in Sands End. It considers 
itself an 'umbrella organisation' for various disparate 
interests. As the Association's publicity material puts 
it: 
ARISE has been recognised by council 
administrations (both red and blue) as the 
umbrella group for consultations (ARISE 
Newsletter (Autumn, 1992)). 
Lastly, ARISE is determinedly non-political. For this 
reason, sitting councillors have not been allowed to 
join the 16-strong Committee (although aspirants are 
permitted membership). As the Chairman said at a meeting 
on July 12,1993, his 'instinct' was against such a 
development. 
2.2.3 Interests, Camnaians and Sponsorships. 
While TERROR focused only on road issues, ARISE has a 
much wider portfolio of interests, a sample of which are 
given below: 
Planning issues. 
ARISE focuses both on general planning issues, such as 
those raised by the Borough's 1993 Unitary Development 
Plan (UDP), and on individual proposals, such as those 
made in Planning Applications. ARISE has made a written 
and oral submission on the most recent UDP (March 4, 
1993), and has considered such Planning Applications as 
the one to build 219 flats, an Exhibition Centre and a 
218 
cinema on a semi-derelict site adjacent to the Thames 
(considered by the Chairman at a meeting on May 24, 
1993) . All Planning Applications relevant to Sands End 
are vetted by ARISE (although quite what would happen if 
ARISE objected to a scheme is open to conjecture). 
Local Authority Services. 
ARISE has successfully campaigned for a loss-making 
local authority launderette to remain open, and for the 
retention of the small Sands End Library. 
Transport Services. 
ARISE has lobbied successfully for two bus services to 
be routed through Sands End. Although one of the 
services is under-used, the Association is lobbying 
London Transport and the local authority for the 
retention of both. 
Noise Pollution. 
ARISE is concerned about both aircraft and helicopter 
noise. In its 'networking' role, ARISE has urged people 
to join with Friends of the Earth in their campaign 
against a fifth terminal at Heathrow. 
General Environmental Improvement. 
ARISE is concerned about the lack of open space in the 
area. It is also concerned to improve the street 
environment through tree planting/protection, the 
provision of litter bins and better drainage. 
Roads. 
ARISE networked with ALARM (All London Against Roads 
Menace) in opposing the Western Environmental 
219 
Improvement Road proposal (WEIR) and other road 
development schemes in the capital. Its prominence 
reflects the fact that "West London... has one of the 
highest levels of pollution from vehicle exhaust gases 
in Britain, well in excess of EC and World Health Org. 
limits" (ARISE Newsletter, February, 1990). 
As mentioned above, ARISE is concerned to build on the 
community spirit of Sands End. In light of this it 
sponsors various local initiatives, one such being the 
Sands End Building Co-operative (SEBCO). SEBCO, formed 
by seven local people "After meeting up at their 
residents' association" ('We've Worked It Out Together', 
The Fulham Chronicle, September 30,1993), carries out 
building work at cut-price rates, the intention being to 
get as many unemployed Sands End tradespeople as 
possible back to work. SEBCO's philosophy is very much 
one of local people meeting local needs. As the Co- 
operative's electrician-founder has put it: 
It was bad enough being unemployed for six 
months, but to look at work going on in your 
area by out-of-town contractors was like 
having your nose rubbed in it ('We've Worked 
It Out Together', The Fulham Chronicle, 
September 30,1993). 
ARISE has provided SEBCO with office accommodation at 
the Broughton Road Centre. Like the roads issue, 
economic development is a major theme in Sands End 
politics. 
ARISE is interested not only in economic, but also in 
amenity development. It is determined that a park and 
riverside walk should be provided, and that derelict 
220 
land should be brought back into (socially productive) 
use. To this end, all development proposals for the 
riverside are earnestly reviewed by ARISE. In 1993, for 
example, two entrepreneurs submitted a proposal to erect 
a temporary shops, restaurants and entertainments 
complex on the heavily contaminated land adjacent to the 
Regent on the River development. One of the 
entrepreneurs was invited to explain the scheme to the 
ARISE AGM. Prior to this the Chairman and several 
Committee members met with the developers at the 
proposed site. (At the meeting ARISE insisted that 
whatever development was approved, it should be safe for 
the public - even if this meant a full and very costly 
decontamination of the site). 
2.2.4 Financing. 
During the 1980s, the financing of the Association was 
reasonably secure. 
During the 1990s, however, the financing of the 
Association entered an uncertain phase. While in 
1992/1993 the council grant stood at £12,500 (ARISE 
1992. Receipts and Payments Account for the Year Ended 
31 March, 1993), in 1993/1994 this was reduced to around 
£8,000. As the grant is the main source of income for 
the Association (other sources totalling only £397 in 
1992) this was a major blow. 
In 1992/1993, over £1,200 was paid by ARISE to local 
groups, while £1,100 was spent on the newsletter which 
is distributed throughout the area. Other monies go 
221 
towards providing such services as luncheon clubs at the 
Broughton Road Centre. 
2.2.5 Public Participation in, and Perception of ARISE. 
While open meetings are generally well attended (out of 
a membership of about 100, over 50 attended the 1993 
AGM), Committee meetings are not. For example, at the 
Committee meeting of May 10,1993, only six out of 
sixteen Committee members were present. The feeling is 
very much that while people want action, few are 
prepared to get down to the necessary work. 
ARISE is used by the Council as a sounding board for 
ideas. To this end, a council official visits ARISE each 
month. 
The attitude of the general public towards the 
Association is difficult to gauge. The local press is 
certainly prepared to pursue allegations of misconduct 
within ARISE with vigour: When an ARISE member (also a 
Conservative Party member) alleged that there were 
irregularities in the annual accounts, The Fulham 
Chronicle ran a detailed report (July 8,1993 edition). 
2.2.6 Conclusion. 
In their book on urban power, Structures and Processes 
of Urban Life, Pahl, Flynn and Buck assert that the 
degree of success enjoyed by a sub-political group such 
as ARISE will depend upon three factors. Firstly, "The 
ability to incur costs in time, money and energy in 
222 
mounting [a] campaign". Secondly, "Not appearing as a 
challenge to the legitimacy of the council's authority", 
and thirdly, making demands that accord with the 
council's agenda (Ibid, Longman, Britain, 1983, p. 137). 
ARISE meets all three requirements: It has adequate 
resources (most provided (ironically) by the council 
itself), 'plays by the rules of the game', and sets 
objectives that are broadly in line with the council's 
aspirations. 
ARISE, by playing the game, has secured some notable 
successes: During the 1980s, ARISE, in concert with 
TERROR and All London Against Roads Menace (ALARM), 
defeated several attempts to drive a major new road 
through Sands End. In 1993, after much lobbying by the 
Association, the local authority announced a major new 
investment in Sands End: A new area housing office, 
better library and more sports facilities were to be 
provided despite 'A £20 million shortfall in government 
funding'. (As so often happens, however, the hard work 
done by local campaigners received little 
acknowledgement, as evinced by this headline in The 
Fulham Chronicle: "Jubilant Labour Councillors today 
revealed a package of improvements to give 'a new lease 
of life' to a politically crucial Fulham neighbourhood" 
(My emphasis) (Meikle, P., 'Crucial Ward Gets New Life', 
The Fulham Chronicle, June 16,1993). 
2.3 Other Groups and Initiatives. 
Hammersmith and Fulham, like any other London Borough, 
has numerous voluntary groups and associations. Many are 
223 
coordinated by the Council-funded Hammersmith and Fulham 
Association of Community Organisations. 
Before the £50 million reduction in spending forced on 
the Council between 1991. and 1994 (Meikle, P., 'We Have 
Lost Control Of Our Money', The Fulham Chronicle, 
September 9,1993), Hammersmith and Fulham funded over 
100 groups, ranging from ARISE, to Womens' Action for 
Mental Health, to Hammersmith and Fulham Urban Studies 
Centre (HFUSC). 
HFUSC was initially an integral part of the local 
authority's Planning Department. Set up in 1981, 'it had 
a full-time co-ordinator and a teacher seconded from one 
of the Borough's schools. Due to its success, HFUSC was 
'hived off' in 1983 to become a fully independent (but 
still local authority funded) resource centre. It is 
both a registered charity and a registered company. The 
USC's main objectives are environmental education and 
improvement. As a recent HFUSC publication explained; 
The Centre works with schools and community 
groups on urban environmental education 
projects and provides a resource base for 
researching and learning about local issues. 
Despite its comprehensive brief, however, HFUSC played 
no part in the power station debate. This may have 
reflected its predominantly passive information 
gathering and advisory role. (It did, however, open a 
file on the demolition of Fulham Power Station) 
(Interview with HFUSC Director, July 7,1993; 
'Hammersmith and Fulham Urban Studies Centre' publicity 
224 
sheet). 
Within Sands End, ARISE consults 
groups and associations. These 
Harbour Residents' Association, 
Association (covering' an area 
Harbour) and Townmead Youth Club. 
such groups do not have the organ 
strength of ARISE. 
with numerous smaller 
include the Chelsea 
Lots Road Residents' 
adjacent to Chelsea 
It is fair to say that 
, 
isational or financial 
Nationally organised groups like Friends of the Earth 
(FoE) are also represented in the Borough. (There is a 
Hammersmith and Fulham branch of FoE). The concerns of 
the local branch are wide-ranging. The July, 1993 
Newsletter, for example, contained items on tropical 
rainforest, Oxleas Wood and the local authority's 
environmental strategy. During the various road disputes 
of the 1980s, FoE acted alongside TERROR and ARISE in 
opposing WEIR and other schemes. But FoE played no part 
in the Fulham Power Station debate. 
2.4 Philanthropy. 
Again, as with other Boroughs, major corporations can 
give generously to the community, especially where a 
public relations benefit may accrue. 
The redevelopment of Hammersmith Broadway was for many 
years a source of heated debate within the Borough. 
Despite calls for a sensitive and socially - as well as 
economically - useful development, the final scheme was 
a shops, offices and public transport development of 
massive proportion. To assuage the resulting criticism 
225 
and garner some good publicity, Bredero, the developers, 
gave the local authority £500,000 to build a new 
headquarters for two community groups ('Bredero's Gift 
To Community', The Fulham Chronicle, May 19,1993). 
3 Formal Political Culture. 
3.1 Parliamentary Representation. 
The Borough has two parliamentary constituencies, Fulham 
and Hammersmith. In the General Election of June 9th, 
1983, Hammersmith elected Clive Soley for Labour with 
41.5% of the vote (Hammersmith Reference Library 
Archives). Soley increased his vote in the 1987 General 
Election. 
In the 1983 General Election, Fulham elected Martin 
Stevens for the Conservatives with 46.2% of the vote. 
Stevens doubled his majority from the 1979 General 
Election, beating his closest rival, the Labour Party's 
Tony Powell, by almost 5,000 votes (The Fulham 
Chronicle, June 17,1983). The increased majority may 
have reflected, in part, the galloping gentrification of 
the early 1980s. Powell secured 34% of the vote, and the 
Liberal candidate 18.2%. At the by-election of April 
1986 (occasioned by the death of the sitting MP), Nick 
Raynsford was elected for Labour with 44.4% of the vote. 
The Conservative candidate got 34.9%. At the 1987 
General Election, however, the seat went back to the 
Conservatives who secured a hefty 51.8% of the vote 
(Hammersmith Reference Library Archives). 
226 
After being a Labour constituency for many years, Fulham 
turned Tory in 1979, and with the exception of the 
period April 1986 to June 1987, has remained Tory. This 
probably reflects Fulham's social revolution of the 
1970s and 1980s (see previous chapter), and the national 
slump in Labour's fortunes. A month after the 
announcement that Fulham Power Station was to be 
demolished, the Labour Party, led by an aged Michael 
Foot, reached its nadir: In the June 1983 General 
Election, "Labour, gaining less than twenty-eight 
percent of the votes cast, put up its worst performance 
in elections since it began serious operations in 1918" 
(Morgan, K. O., Labour People, OUP, Britain, 1987, 
p. 277). Mrs Thatcher secured a parliamentary majority of 
140. 
3.2 The Greater London Council (GLC). 
The Greater London Council was still in existence at the 
time of the power station debate, Fulham having its own 
GLC Councillor. Labour-controlled during the 1980s, the 
GLC provided certain technical assistance to those 
residents involved in the debate. It should be noted, 
however, that at the time of the debate the GLC was 
facing abolition. This caused significant disturbance 
within the organisation (as experienced staff left key 
posts) which must have affected its response to the 
asbestos issue. (During 1984 local and national 
newspapers were full of advertisements for high-powered 
but temporary jobs at the Council). 
Nevertheless, despite its travails, the GLC continued to 
227 
challenge inequalities and publicise social issues right 
up until its abolition. It published challenging 
research on unemployment, economic decline, housing and 
pollution. In 1982, for example, the GLC raised the 
issue of atmospheric pollution in the capital. The GLC 
report, entitled "Sulphur Dioxide and Smoke in London - 
a Progress Report", was reviewed in the local press: 
The government is being urged by the GLC to 
tighten controls on the burning of coal and 
fuel oil which currently releases 180,000 
tonnes of sulphur dioxide into the capital's 
air every year, and which, experts say, will 
increase ('Clean London's Air Urges GLC', The 
Fulham Chronicle, July 23,1982). 
Ironically, this report was published in the context of 
the closure of many of London's older coal-burning power 
stations, including Fulham Power Station. 
3.3 The London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham 
LBHF . 
3.3.1 LBHF From 1980 to the Present. 
The London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham has 50 
seats spread over 23 wards. Most wards have two seats, 
while a few have three. Sands End itself has two. 
At the May, 1978 local elections, the Labour Party and 
the Conservative Party won 24 seats each. This left the 
Liberal Party, which won two seats, with the balance of 
power. After much politicking, the Liberals formed an 
alliance with the Conservatives, in exchange for several 
positions of influence within the Council. The 
228 
Conservative/Liberal alliance promised to undo years of 
Labour 'misrule' in Hammersmith and Fulham. As The 
Fulham Chronicle reported; 
Councillor Knott [leader of the Liberal Group] 
said it was one of his main demands that the 
rates should not go up next year... ('Strong 
Rule Promised From Con-Lib Council', May 19, 
1978). 
The Chronicle considered the deposed Labour Group's 
housing policy to be especially vulnerable: 
First for the axe is certain to be compulsory 
purchase and municipalisation of private homes 
and flats which the Labour Party say are 
desperately needed to help people on the long 
council house waiting list (Ibid). 
At the council elections of May 1982,25 Labour, 23 
Conservative and 2 Alliance councillors were returned. 
In a virtual re-run of the previous election, a 
Conservative/Alliance administration was formed. (Thus 
it was a Conservative/Alliance administration that 
presided over the power station debate of 1983 - 1984). 
Sands End proved to be solidly Labour. The two Labour 
candidates polled about 1,000 votes each, and were duly 
elected. The two Conservatives each polled about 600 
votes (Hammersmith Reference Library Archives). 
At the council elections of May, 1986,40 Labour and 9 
Conservative councillors were returned. In Sands End the 
two successful Labour candidates polled over 1,000 votes 
each, while the two Conservatives polled about 550 votes 
each ('This Is Where The Votes Went', The Fulham 
Chronicle, May 15,1986). The 'third party' vote was 
229 
split between the Liberals and the SDP. 
In the May 1990 local elections the Labour vote 'slumped 
somewhat. Labour won 28 seats, while the Conservatives 
recovered to win 22 seats ('How The Votes Were Cast In 
Each Ward', The Fulham Chronicle, May 10,1990). The 
Labour vote in Sands End, however, actually increased. 
Yet again, two Labour councillors were returned. 
3.3.2 News from the Town Hall. 
During the early 1980s, the local authority distributed 
a free newspaper across the borough. Each month some 
95,000 copies of Civic News were produced. The items 
featured in Civic News give a good indication of the 
'authority's chief concerns prior to - and during - the 
power station debate. 
The January, 1982 edition, for example, majored on aid 
packages for local businesses, the future of Fulham's 
river frontage and the redevelopment of Fulham Broadway, 
Fulham's main commercial centre. Under the heading 
'Better Working Conditions for Fulham Centre', it was 
announced that the Broadway had been designated a 
'Commercial Improvement Area' (CIA). 
The February, 1982 edition noted that the CIA programme 
had commenced. Much space was given over to the issue of 
local unemployment. Under the headline 'Action on 
Unemployment', it was pointed out that "Unemployment now 
affects more than 9,000 borough residents". To tackle 
this growing problem the local authority had made Inner 
230 
Area Programme monies available to local voluntary 
groups engaged in job training and employment schemes. 
(Hammersmith and Fulham's IAP scheme had commenced in 
1979). 
The March, 1982 edition carried a detailed summary of 
the local authority's main activities. The IAP featured 
prominently, as did the issue of sub-standard housing. 
It was reported that, according to The Greater London 
House Condition Survey (1979), around 38% of the 
borough's housing was in an 'unsatisfactory' condition, 
and that 16% of the council's own housing was 'unfit for 
human habitation'. The pressure on budgets was noted in 
a report on cut-backs in the social services department: 
The year was not an easy one for Social 
Services. A number of difficult decisions had 
to be taken to contribute to the financial 
savings forced on the Council at a time of 
increasing unemployment and an unfavourable 
economic climate (p. 5). 
The Council's concerns, however, were not all the result 
of economic pressures. Thus it was reported that as a 
result of "A great deal of national and local publicity 
over the hazard of lead poisoning" (p. 10), the council 
had appointed a Temporary Scientific Officer to monitor 
local atmospheric lead levels. 
The March, 1982 edition was the last Civic News 
published by Hammersmith and Fulham. Its demise may have 
reflected the cut backs forced on the council by central 
government, and/or the changed priorities of the new 
Conservative/Alliance majority in the Town Hall, 
following the local election of May 1982. 
231 
The concept of a civic newspaper was not revived until 
December, 1986, when the newly elected Labour-controlled 
authority published the first edition of Street Life. 
Like its predecessor, it majored on the local 
authority's priorities, activities and achievements. 
Once again, issues of social justice featured 
prominently. Issue number one noted that "Unemployment 
in Hammersmith and Fulham [is] running at an alarming 
-15%" (p. 6). In the context of a council house waiting 
list of 8,500, the news sheet criticised the previous 
administration's development plans for the Fulham river 
frontage. Under the headline 'Anger at Multi-Million 
Pound Scheme', the Chair of Housing attacked the 
proposed Chelsea Harbour development: 
Building luxury homes-is all very well... But 
not when it means that hundreds of local 
people will be deprived of the low cost 
housing they need. The council is struggling 
at the moment to provide for the homeless - it 
is rubbing salt into the wounds to see a 
valuable piece of building land swallowed up 
by developers who are uninterested in local 
problems (Ibid). 
4 The Local Press. 
4.1 Introduction. 
Given that the press can, from time to time, reflect 
popular concerns, and may even describe a political 
agenda (see, for example, Schoenfeld, A. C., Meier, R. F., 
and Griffin, R. J., 'Constructing a Social Problem: The 
Press and the Environment', Social Problems, US, Volume 
27, No. 1, p. 39), it is interesting to note the concerns 
232 
of Fulham's local newspapers at the time of the power 
station debate. 
4.2 The Agenda. 
In the gap between the. demise of Civic News and the 
publication of Street Life, the West London Observer and 
The Fulham Chronicle were the community's chief sources 
of local news. As tabloids, the front page lead story 
with its attention-grabbing banner headline, often 
written in a lurid style, had the potential to make an 
impact on both the reader and passer-by. It is of some 
interest, therefore, to note the stories that made the 
front pages of the newspapers during the height of the 
power station debate. As both papers tended to follow 
the same stories, the headlines from only one, The 
Fulham Chronicle, are recounted. 
The May 13,1983 front page headline was, not 
unsurprisingly, 'Furious Residents Up In Arms'. The 
accompanying story focused on the unexpected sale of 
Fulham Power Station, announced on May 3rd in The Times. 
On May 20, the headline was 'Asbestos Fear Quelled By 
Blast Expert'. 
On May 27, 'Council Flat Horror For Disabled Man'. 
On June 3, 'Big Guns Open Up On Jobs Row'. This story 
focused on the claim by the area's Conservative MP that 
'unemployment was not a serious issue in west London'. 
On June 10, 'Election Tight Rope'. 
233 
On June 17, 'Killer Dust Protest'. This marked a return 
to front page coverage of the power station. 
On June 24, 'Damp-Ridden Council Flat Accusation' 
On July 1, 'Living Hell For Tenants'. The story 
recounted a community's protest against a rubbish 
compactor. 
On July 8, 'Disabled Queenie Won't Pay'. The story 
described how a pensioner planned to defy a council 
demand that she pay towards the cost of her home help. 
On July 15, ''Beanfeast' Luxury For Cuts Meeting'. The 
story criticised the cost of a meeting to discuss budget 
cuts. 
On July 22, 'Social Services At 'Crisis Point' . The 
lead story described how, according to a Labour 
councillor, "The Borough's Social Services Department is 
in danger of collapsing, and staff morale is at an all 
time low... ". 
On July 29, 'Mercy For Rape Trio'. 
On August 5, 'Residents To Maintain Asbestos Alert At 
Station'. 
On August 12, 'Tower 'Open House' For Crime'. 
On August 19, 'Home Help Charges Could Be Illegal'. 
On August 26, 'Food Filth Penalties Too Low'. 
On September 2, 'Locals Lose Chance To Own Riverside 
Homes'. 
234 
On September 9, 'Girl Was Victim Of A Sex Monster' 
On September 16, '13 Years Old Schoolgirl Is Molested By 
Sex Attacker'. 
On September 23, '£30,000 Damage as Fire Raisers 
Attack'. 
On September 30, 'NHS Cuts Will Slash Patient Care - 
Nurses'. 
On October 7, 'Residents 'At End Of Tether' Over LT 
Work'. Residents were protesting about noisy repair work 
on the underground. 
On October 14, 'Double Attack Sparks Fury On Flat 
Safety'. 
On October 21, 'Homes Strike Threat To Children And 
Aged'. 
On October 28, 'The Burlingham Watch Scheme Is Winning 
Out' . 
On November 4, 'Widow Victim Of Housing Blunder'. 
On November 11, 'Target For Sex Attacks'. 
On November 18, 'Knott Must Go Call By Labour'. The 
Labour group on the council was demanding the 
resignation of a Conservative member over budgetary 
matters. 
On November 25, 'Fulham Court Tenants War On Council'. 
In the absence of the E9 million needed for repairs, the 
Council planned to sell off a dilapidated council estate 
235 
to a private property developer. 
On December 2, 'Outcry Erupts Over Library Cuts Plan'. 
On December 9, 'Residents Unite To Fight Road Plan'. 
(See 2.1, above). 
On December 16, 'Playcuts Protest At The Town Hall'. 
On December 23, 'Family At War'. A story about the 
aftermath of an IRA bomb in London. 
On December 30, "Jump To It', Teenagers Are Told'. A 
story about the slow take-up of places on a job training 
scheme. 
While not exactly a 'scientific' analysis, the above 
survey shows that even at the height of the campaign, 
the debate over the demolition and decontamination of 
the power station hardly monopolised the front page of 
the newspaper. While there were frequent reports on the 
inside pages, these were often lost amongst acres of 
lurid advertisements (the stock-in-trade of local 
tabloids). Of course 
as wide an audience 
will range across a 
can also pander to 
public taste. Hence 
crimes. 
a local newspaper must appeal to 
as possible. To do this, coverage 
whole spectrum of issues. Coverage 
the lowest common denominators of 
the front page reporting of sex 
However 'unscientific' the above analysis, it is 
nevertheless of some interest to note firstly, that the 
power station debate was seldom given the front page 
leader, and secondly, that other 'social' issues 
236 
received as much, if not more, publicity. 
From the point at which the power station was sold until 
the end of the year, the Chronicle carried four front 
page reports on the debate over its decontamination and 
demolition. In the- same period, the paper carried 
thirteen front page reports on issues related to housing 
need, social services, health, unemployment and/or 
budget cuts i. e. issues that could be said to be broadly 
'social'. There were seven sex and property crime 
stories. 
5 Conclusion. 
At the time of the power station debate of 1983/1984, 
Sands End residents were represented through four tiers 
of government - three formal, and one informal. The 
Member of Parliament, GLC Councillor and local authority 
councillors provided formal representation, while the 
ARISE Committee provided informal representation. 
Interests could also be indulged and expressed through a 
plethora of other, smaller groups, from predominantly 
single-issue organisations like TERROR to resource 
groups like the Nottingdale Technology Centre and the 
Hammersmith and Fulham Urban Studies Centre. 
Thus a complex web of potential support was available to 
the power station campaigners at the time of the debate. 
The depth and breadth of potential support would have 
been greater in 1983/1984 than today, given the cuts in 
local authority funding implemented throughout the 1980s 
237 
(see 'ARISE 1992. Receipts and Payments Account for the 
Year Ended 31 March 1993'; Meikle, P., 'We Have Lost 
Control Of Our Money'; and the relevant Fulham Chronicle 
front pages, above). 
Having said this, however, it should be remembered that 
the major sub-political group, ARISE, was very much a 
part of the Hammersmith and Fulham political 
establishment. Given the resulting congruence of 
interests and philosophy between ARISE and the local 
authority, and bearing in mind that almost all of the 
Association's funding came from the Council, ARISE was 
not about to engage in 'unacceptable' forms of political 
discourse on anyone's behalf (see 2.1, above; interview 
with power station activist). 
This left those unhappy about the demolition in the 
position of having to look for a more independent, less 
constrained organisational vehicle for their protest. 
This the activists found in TERROR. 
The success of sub-politics in Sands End, in the guise 
of groups like TERROR, stands in sharp contrast to a 
growing pessimism about, and antipathy towards formally 
constituted local democratic processes. As described in 
Chapter 1, there is a growing belief that the 
traditional forms of politics have failed, and that the 
public is, as a result, disempowered and 
disenfranchised: 
It has come to seem as if all the important 
decisions that touch our lives are made 
elsewhere, by someone else, someone distant 
and unidentified.. . The effect of this 
has been 
to create a widespread feeling of impotence, 
238 
especially on the part of those who have the 
roughest deal in society - 'What can you do 
about it? ' 'What's the point? ' 'Whose going to 
take any notice of us? ' This in turn leads to 
a total disbelief in those who claim that they 
can do anything about it - and that means, for 
the most part, politicians (My emphases) 
(Seabrook, J., The Idea of Neighbourhood, 
Pluto, Britain, 1984, p. 3). 
239 
Chapter 5 
Asbestos -A Risk Issue? 
1 Introduction. 
The arguments over the decontamination and demolition of 
Fulham Power Station centred on the degree of risk 
presented by the asbestos used at Fulham for heat 
insulation. 
All coal-burning power stations contain large amounts of 
asbestos - especially blue and brown asbestos which are 
able to resist the acidic fumes produced during 
combustion. 
Any debate over the health 
takes place against a 
uncertainty. Certainly at 
there was debate over the 
asbestos dust (especially 
development of mesotheliomý 
in months). 
risks of asbestos inevitably 
background of scientific 
the time of the demolition 
degree of carcinogenicity of 
concerning its role in the 
t, a painful cancer that kills 
This chapter examines that debate in detail. The 
objective is to describe the general scientific backloth 
to the events and risk/hazard discourses of 1983-1984. 
(There is no attempt in this Chapter to describe the 
power station debate in detail. That is done in the 
Chapters that follow). For the sake of completeness, the 
scientific arguments over asbestos have been traced to 
the present day. 
Obviously, should asbestos dust be accidentally 
240 
discharged into the environment, the propensity of the 
mineral to cause cancer will have a bearing on the terms 
of any subsequent debate on public health. Thus, if it 
is agreed that all forms of asbestos are carcinogenic in 
any quantity, any debate over the consequences of 
environmental contamination will start from an 
unambiguous scientific base. However, if there are 
questions as to the degree of carcinogenicity of the 
mineral, with, perhaps, different scientific authorities 
presenting different conclusions, the potential exists 
for great confusion and/or complexity in any debate that 
might follow. The debate may polarise, with different 
parties expressing mutually antagonistic interests 
through contradictory scientific interpretations. 
Alternatively, a disinterested or preoccupied public, 
reassured by a conservative view of asbestos hazard, may 
show little or no interest in the matter. (Of course, 
the same result might obtain even if asbestos was shown 
to be unambiguously carcinogenic, with the same 
disinterested or preoccupied public simply ignoring a 
proven hazard). Lastly, scientific uncertainty may cause 
people to lose faith in 'expert' knowledge. This may 
produce any one of a number of outcomes; anger, panic, 
disengagement or apathy. (See, for example, Irwin's 
(1995) analysis of the public's loss of faith in the 
Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food over their 
perceived mishandling of the BSE crisis (Citizen 
Science, Op Cit)). 
Scientific uncertainty over the link between asbestos 
and cancer is reflected in the wider debate over the 
241 
role of environmental factors in general in the 
aetiology of cancer. At the time of the argument over 
the demolition of Fulham Power Station, this debate had 
polarised around the views of two opposing scientific 
camps, with one emphasising 'life-style' factors (like 
smoking) as the main cause of the 'cancer epidemic', and 
the other emphasising 'environmental' factors (like 
synthetic organic chemicals and airborne asbestos). 
Disagreement over the carcinogenicity of asbestos was of 
potential importance to the terms of the debate in Sands 
End for a number of reasons. Firstly, because it offered 
each side the chance to use a complementary scientific 
interpretation to justify its actions (or inactions). 
Secondly, because it offered those who played no part in 
the debate (the vast majority of the residents) a 
justification for their inaction: if cancer was caused 
mainly by 'life-style' factors, why worry about a little 
asbestos in the air? And lastly, because it raised the 
possibility of securing some sort of 'insurance' against 
claims for compensation in later years; Even if cancers 
did subsequently occur in the population, it would be 
difficult to prove 'beyond all reasonable doubt' that 
they were due to the actions of the parties responsible 
for the decontamination and demolition. 
It should be noted, however, that even if one assumes 
asbestos to be only marginally carcinogenic, the very 
fact that it may cause cancer might have been sufficient 
to trigger concern (although not, necessarily, political 
action). This is because cancer is very much a 'dread' 
disease. As one report has put it, there is "A dread of 
242 
the death sentence so often associated with it. Cancer 
lays bare the comfortable fiction that we will live 
forever" (The New Internationalist, August, 1989, p. 4). 
And in the early 1980s, the 'unspeakable' disease would 
have generated even more dread than today, given the 
more limited treatments available then. 
The Fulham Power Station debate should therefore be seen 
in three health contexts. Firstly, the scientific 
argument over the carcinogenicity of asbestos. Secondly, 
the more general debate over the role of 'life-style' 
against 'environmental' factors in carcinogenesis. And 
thirdly, the pronounced fear of cancer amongst the 
general population. 
As these health contexts form a vital dynamic to the 
debate, it is important that they are, like the social, 
economic and political contexts described in Chapters 1, 
2,3 and 4, noted and understood. Without a 
comprehensive understanding of the background to the 
debate we cannot begin to understand why, for example, a 
demolition company believed they could safely 
decontaminate a power station; why the CEGB sold the 
power station to such a company; why the local authority 
was initially indifferent to public concern over the 
power station; why the majority of the population played 
no part in the protests; and why some locals publicly 
criticised the protesters. 
243 
2 Cancer - The 'Disease of Civilisation'. 
2.1 Characteristics of the Disease. 
Cancer, "A disease caused by a breakdown in the 
mechanisms governing cell division" (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., The Earth Report, Mitchell Beazley 
Publishers, Britain, 1988, p. 111), has a number of 
characteristics, one of which (certainly in the context 
of the debate surrounding possible asbestos 
contamination in Sands End) is its latency (i. e. the 
length of time that can elapse between initial exposure 
to a carcinogen and the onset of disease). The latency 
period for leukaemia, for example, is six to seven years 
(Ibid, p. 115), while that for mesothelioma may be up to 
forty years (Asbestos Killer Dust, BSSRS Publications 
Ltd., Britain, 1979, p. 20). 
Another important aspect of the disease is its 
perception by the general public. As mentioned above, 
cancer is very much a 'dread disease'. Indeed, it may be 
the most dread' disease: 
[C]ancer is now the disease that people fear 
most. Just as tuberculosis. appeared to 
symbolise the wretched conditions of 
nineteenth-century towns, so cancer has come 
to be seen as an epidemic that is somehow 
characteristic of the 'affluent society' of 
the post-war period [My emphasis] (Doyal, L., 
Epstein, S., Gee, D., Green, K.,. Irwin, A., 
Russell, D., Steward, F., and Williams, R., 
Cancer in Britain, Pluto Press, Britain, 1983, 
P. 1). 
Fear of cancer is heightened by the knowledge that, 
despite massive investment in research and treatments, 
"Survival rates for most of the common cancers have 
244 
improved very little over the past 30 years" (Ibid, 
p. 1). In the United States, for example, the survival 
rates for lung, stomach, colon and breast cancer - some 
of the most common carcinomas - are much the same now as 
they were in the 1970s (Proctor, R. N., 'The Politics of 
Cancer', Dissent, Spring, 1994, p. 216). Indeed, what 
little improvement there has been (in the USA, for 
example, 51% of cancer patients now live five years or 
more after diagnosis compared with 49% in the 1970s 
(Ibid)) may be attributable to a 'statistical sleight of 
hand'. Thus, "People who used to die four years after 
diagnosis may now die after five, the 'improvement' due 
to the discovery of their cancer a year earlier than 
used to be the case" (Ibid). 
So marked is the fear of cancer that even incremental 
advances in diagnostic techniques and/or treatments 
receive enormous publicity. A case in point was the 
press reaction in the 1970$ to the possibility of using 
interferon, a protein manufactured in the body to 
inhibit infection, to combat cancer. In the mid 1970s, 
advances in genetic science raised the possibility of 
using the protein to develop a 'cure for cancer'. The 
press was ecstatic. In America, the Detroit Free Press 
talked of a 'magic potion' while The Readers Dicrest 
waxed lyrical about the 'wonder therapy'. Newsweek 
talked of new 'cancer weapons' while Time discussed the 
"Staggering implications of research" (Nelkin, D., 
Selling Science, W. H. Freeman, USA, 1987, p. 5). As 
Dorothy Nelkin explains in her analysis of the role of 
the press in the interferon episode; 
245 
The popular press... was consistently 
enthusiastic, and interferon quickly developed 
the public aura of a 'magic bullet' (Ibid, 
p. 4) 
No mention was made, however, of the toxic side effects 
of the 'magic bullet' - side effects that killed four 
French cancer patients treated with interferon. Such is 
the terror of cancer, and such was the hope raised by 
the new treatment, that the potentially lethal qualities 
of interferon were either played down or ignored. (A 
contemporary parallel exists in the alleged toxic side- 
effects of the anti-AIDS treatment, AZT). 
While no-one would dispute the need to evaluate the side 
effects of cancer treatments like radio or chemotherapy 
against the lethality of the disease itself, it is 
nevertheless the case that treatment for cancer can be a 
highly unpleasant - if not fatal - experience for the 
patient. 
It should also be noted that some treatments, besides 
having unpleasant side-effects, may themselves be 
carcinogenic. A 1984 study in the New England Journal of 
Medicine, for example, "Found that chemotherapy actually 
increased the risk of leukaemia" (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, 
p. 216). Even preventive procedures may prove 
carcinogenic. In the case of mammography, for example, 
"For women under the age of forty... there are probably 
as many tumours caused by the procedure as are detected 
as a result of it". As a consequence, "The X-ray levels 
used in standard mammography have declined in recent 
246 
years" (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 216) (Of course, the 
use of treatments that have unpleasant and/or injurious 
effects is a matter of balancing the risks of such 
treatments with a prognosis of how the disease might 
develop if left untreated). 
2.2 Prevalence of the Disease. 
Cancer has been called 'the disease of civilisation'. 
There is strong evidence to suggest that the more 
technologically advanced a society becomes, the greater 
becomes the risk of dying from cancer (which presumably 
is partly a function of the reduced risk of dying from 
other causes, like cold, malnourishment and treatable 
disease). For example, according to the World Health 
Organisation (WHO), while economies in the early stages 
of industrialisation have 'crude cancer rates' ranging 
from 94 to 151, North America has a rate of 638 while 
Europe suffers a rate of over 1,000 (Goldsmith, E,. and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). 
Cancer is a major killer in all advanced industrial 
societies. In Britain today, 20% of deaths are 
attributable to cancer (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, p. 1). 
Despite massive investment in research and treatment 
(see 2.4, below), even those born in the 1980s run a 
significant risk of dying from the disease: 
For white males born in 1985, the probability 
of developing cancer is 36 per cent, and of 
dying from it, 23 per cent (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). 
World-wide in 1985, the number of recorded cases stood 
247 
at 5,900,000, while the number of deaths was 4,300,000 
(Ibid) 
. 
What is perhaps most disturbing is that the disease is 
becoming more common. In 1900, less than 5% of deaths 
were attributed to cancer. Today, this figure stands at 
20%. (of course, part of this 'increase' could be due to 
the. more accurate diagnosis of the cause of death). 
Between 1951 and 1975 "Crude cancer death rates among 
men rose by about 1 per cent a year" (Tucker, A., 'Work 
Can Kill You. Especially During A Recession', The 
Guardian, October 27,1983). Despite falling prior to 
the 1970s, death rates amongst women are now rising at 
the same rate. If present trends continue, cancer, 
"Second only to heart disease as a cause of death in 
most industrial nations.. . will 
become the First World's 
leading cause of death sometime in the twenty-first 
century. It is already the number one cause of death in 
Japan" (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 215). 
Another epidemiological characteristic of cancer is 
that, far from being simply a 'disease of old age', all 
age groups are affected: It is the most common cause of 
death in the age group 35-54 (although only because the 
death rate in this demographic range is quite low 
anyway), and the second most common cause of death in 
the age groups 5-34 and 55-75 (Ibid, p. 216). The 
ubiquity of the disease generates conditions under which 
'cancerphobia' can flourish. 
A final point is that cancer rates are also increasing 
within the animal kingdom. Fish species have been 
248 
particularly affected: 
[R]ecent research shows that 40% of the flat 
fish in certain parts of the North Sea now 
have cancer... 
Studies have [also] shown that the 
incidence of cancer among tomcods more than 
two years old in the highly polluted Hudson 
River is 80-90 per cent, whereas among tomcods 
living in a clean environment it is no higher 
than 2.5 per cent (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). 
2.3 The Causes of Cancer. 
2.3.1 Introduction. 
There is a long-standing debate surrounding the causes 
of cancer. Put simply, the debate divides between two 
opposed views. The 'establishment' (Doyal, L., et al, Op 
Cit, p. 2) view is that the majority of cancers are 
caused by 'unhealthy living'. The 'lifestyle factors' 
responsible would include smoking, diet, sexual 
behaviour and other aspects of personal choice. The 
'radical' (Ibid) view is that 'environmental factors' 
account for a significant proportion of cancers. Such 
factors would include environmental pollution 
(including, for example, airborne asbestos) and other 
aspects of late twentieth century life not under the 
control of the subject. Put crudely, the 'establishment' 
view blames the victim for her/his cancer, while the 
'radical' view includes factors over which the victim 
has no control. 
In one respect, the argument over cancer causation lies 
at the very heart of the Fulham Power Station debate. If 
249 
environmental factors, such as ambient levels of 
airborne asbestos dust, were considered by the residents 
to pose no more than a minor threat to health, the 
public may well have accepted the demolition of the 
power station without question - even if the demolition 
caused dust levels to increase. However, if, on the 
other hand, the public subscribed to the 'environmental 
factors' argument, then both background levels and 
fugitive emissions of asbestos dust from the power 
station would, in theory, have given cause for concern. 
2.3.2 The 'Establishment' View. 
The establishment view, championed by Richard Doll and 
Richard Peto in their book The Causes of Cancer (1982), 
asserts that the vast majority of cancers can be 
attributed to such lifestyle factors as smoking, diet 
and sexual habits. In the opinion of Doll and Peto, 
smoking alone accounts for approximately 30% of cancers, 
while diet accounts for 35% (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, 
p. 3) . Adding 
in percentages for a number of other 
miscellaneous lifestyle factors, Doll and Peto are left 
with an unaccounted-for residue of some 5%. They 
attribute this 'surplus' of cancers to the effects of 
environmental carcinogens. In short, the thesis put 
forward by these 'influential cancer epidemiologists' 
"Assigns industry only a small role in the nation's 
cancer" (Ibid) . This tacit defence of 
industrial 
practice has been seized upon by such bodies as the 
Chemical Industries Association (CIA) in its efforts to 
resist, on the part of companies like ICI, the more 
250 
stringent control of industrial processes, products and 
emissions. 
The establishment view attributes a proportion of the 
increase in cancer deaths to greater longevity. That is, 
chance dictates that the longer a person lives, the more 
likely s/he is to die of cancer. Therefore, according to 
the theory, a child of ten is less likely to die of 
cancer than her/his grandparent. 
Despite Doll and Peto's conservative estimate of deaths 
attributable to environmental causes, it should be noted 
that even a figure of 5% generates some 6,000 avoidable 
cancer deaths in Britain each year. (Large though this 
number is, however, it could be argued, in light of the 
many benefits, such as employment, quality-of-life 
enhancing products, and taxable wealth and income that 
flow from industrial activity, that it represents 'an 
acceptable level of death' . Although morally dubious, 
it is just possible that such thinking might inform 
certain economic decisions). 
2.3.3 The 'Radical' View. 
The radical view, which pre-dates that of Doll and Peto, 
has been championed by the American epidemiologist 
Samuel Epstein. This view elevates the role of 
environmental factors in the aetiology of cancer. Thus 
while Doll and Peto attribute only 5% of cancers to 
environmental factors, Epstein proposes that up to 40% 
(Ibid, p. 4) of cancers may be caused by environmental 
factors. (It should be noted that other experts put this 
251 
figure at up to 80% (Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op 
Cit, p. 112)). 
Like Doll and Peto, Epstein acknowledges the growing 
menace of cancer. Today, for example, the chances of a 
man getting cancer by the age of 85 are 27%. In 1950 
they were 19%. 
However, unlike Doll and Peto, Epstein goes on to put 
such statistics in a wider industrial and economic 
context. Such increases have occurred in the context of 
a dramatic growth in industrial activity throughout the 
Twentieth Century. During this period, certain novel 
industries, like petrochemicals, have grown by leaps and 
bounds. Thus, while the production of synthetic organic 
compounds stood at just 1 billion tons in 1935, by 1950 
it had reached 30 billion tons, and by 1975,300 billion 
tons (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, p. 173). In the United 
States, many of these chemicals have been released onto 
the market without being tested for ecological, toxic or 
carcinogenic effects. Testing for such undesirable 
outcomes only became compulsory in the United States 
with the passing of the 1976 Toxic Substances Act. There 
are today some 9,000 synthetic organic chemicals in 
circulation (Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, 
p. 112). 
As mentioned above, Doll and Peto attribute a 
significant number of cancers to smoking and diet. 
Epstein's response to this argument is to ask why, out 
of some 100,000 lung cancer deaths in the US each year, 
over 20% occur in non-smokers? He also ponders why "Lung 
252 
cancer death rates in non-smokers approximately doubled 
from 1958 to 1969, an increase maintained since" (Doyal, 
L., et al, Op Cit, p. 175). 
On the role of diet in the development of cancer, 
Epstein points out that Doll and Peto's conclusions are 
based largely on correlations between fat intake and 
breast and colonic cancer in the developed world. As 
Epstein explains, such correlations do not prove a 
direct causal connection between fat intake and cancer. 
One could say with equal plausibility that, as 
correlations also exist between GNP and cancer, or the 
production of synthetic organic chemicals and cancer, 
high rates of cancer are due primarily to environmental 
factors. Alternatively, cancer could have a 
multifactoral aetiology, with the disease triggered by 
numerous, apparently unconnected, factors. Such 
arguments over causation generate uncertainty - if not 
anxiety within populations. They also generate more 
research. 
Epstein's theories have been tested in several field 
studies. For example, an investigation by the US Public 
Health Service attributed as much as 20% or more' of 
cancers in workers to just six carcinogens present in 
the environment, one of which was asbestos (Ibid, 
p. 180). This and other research has led the American 
Industrial Health Council to describe asbestos exposure 
as "A major public health disaster" (Ibid, p. 181). 
Epstein's theories have also been tested in studies of 
clusters of cancer deaths. In Chesapeake Bay, for 
253 
example, where cancer death rates are several times the 
US average, "The per capita level of toxic waste 
generated is 46 times greater than the national average" 
(Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). Also, 
"On the Chicago south side, a highly polluted area 
containing 22 chemical plants in addition to 31 
operating or closed chemical waste dumps [the cancer 
rate] was found by the Illinois Environmental Protection 
Agency [IEPA] in 1984 to be 20 per cent higher than in 
the rest of Chicago" (Ibid) . These and other cases have 
prompted some to query the 'establishment' view that 
environmental factors account for no more than 5% of 
excess cancer deaths. The point is made that even if the 
predominantly working class inhabitants of these regions 
ate less healthily and smoked more than their middle 
class neighbours, this would surely not account for all 
but 5% of the 20% excess noted by IEPA. (There is 
evidence that the working classes know as much about 
healthy eating as the middle classes, as the following 
report suggests: "The subjects. . . are obviously aware of 
what 'healthy eating' entails. This is a general finding 
in research on low-income households and eating 
patterns, and explodes the myth that poor people don't 
eat healthily because they are ignorant of nutritional 
requirements" (Stitt, S., 'The Real Cost Of Living On 
£10', The Big Issue, March 1-7,1994). 
The patterns revealed in the studies at Chesapeake Bay 
and Chicago are repeated in other developed countries 
such as Britain: "In the UK the incidence of cancer of 
the lung and stomach is particularly high in northern 
254 
industrial [locales] such as Liverpool, Southport, 
Manchester and Jarrow" (Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., 
Op Cit, p. 112). 
Although Epstein concedes that increased longevity has 
made cancer more prevalent, he points out that not only 
are more old people dying of cancer, but more children 
too. 
While Epstein in no way dismisses such lifestyle factors 
as smoking as playing an important part in cancer 
deaths, he insists that the role of environmental 
factors like air or water-borne pollution has been 
under-estimated - and for less than honourable reasons. 
As he puts it: 
The role of lifestyle factors has been 
exaggerated, by those with an 
economic... investment in this theory, by 
largely excluding involuntary exposures to 
carcinogens and minimising the role of 
occupational carcinogens (Doyal, L., et al, Op 
Cit, p. 182). 
(While he pulls no punches in his accusations of bias 
and statistical gerrymandering, it should be remembered 
that Epstein himself stands to gain much from 
outmanoeuvring Doll and Peto: An enhanced personal 
reputation, public admiration, book contracts, research 
monies and potentially lucrative lecture tours, for 
example, could all flow from the victory of his 
'environmental factors' over Doll and Peto's 'personal 
factors' theory). 
255 
2.3.4 Conclusion. 
The views of Doll and Peto and of Epstein represent the 
two polarities in the debate over cancer causation. In 
risk debates, the different views may be enrolled by the 
protagonists to lend'an argument scientific credibility. 
The Doll and Peto thesis would appeal more to 
governments, corporations and representative bodies like 
the CIA. The Epstein thesis would appeal to 
environmental groups and unions. Each side generates 
evidence to support its preferred view. As one observer 
of the social construction of scientific knowledge has 
put it. 
All use science as a form of public relations: 
all prove the verity of Gibson's Law -I refer 
of course to the principle that 'For every 
Ph. D. there's an equal and opposite 
Ph. D. '(Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 220). 
The protagonists in a risk debate may go to 
extraordinary lengths to maintain a politically helpful 
scientific theory. In the debate over the health effects 
of radon gas in the US, for example, the Regan 
administration, which had invested much time and effort 
in persuading the American public that radon gas in the 
domestic environment caused cancer, was determined that 
scientific research should continue to support this 
view. As a consequence, government scientists, when 
asked "What if epidemiological studies continue to show 
no relationship between cancer and radon in homes? " 
responded that 'the studies will surely show a 
relationship'. And if current studies could not 
256 
demonstrate a link, then 'more studies would be 
necessary' (Cole, L. A., Element of Risk: The Politics of 
Radon, AAAS Press, US, 1993, p. 203). That is, government 
scientists would continue their investigations until 
they produced politically acceptable findings: a link 
between domestic radon gas and cancer. Here, then, is 
evidence of the potential contingency of scientific 
knowledge. 
No doubt those environmental health advocates who 
subscribe to Epstein's 'environmental' theory would be 
as vigorous as the Regan Administration was over radon 
gas in producing evidence for such a politically helpful 
thesis. It must be said, however, that such studies as 
those of Chesapeake Bay and Chicago south side would 
seem to suggest (however tentatively) that more than 5% 
of cancers are due to environmental factors. There are a 
number of reasons for this view: 
Firstly, many thousands of chemical compounds have been 
released into the environment without being tested for 
either unique, synergistic or antagonistic carcinogenic 
properties. This presents at least a potential threat to 
public health. 
Secondly, despite much research, relatively little is 
known about the aetiology of cancer. As the exact 
mechanisms of causation have yet to be established, how 
can anyone say definitively that 30% of cancers are due 
gust to smoking? If the debate over cancer causation may 
be summed up in a single word, that word is uncertainty: 
Theories of what causes cancer have included 
257 
virtually every known vice and every known 
virtue. A very short list would include 
humoral imbalances, hereditary predispositions, 
sunshine, obesity, syphilis, female sex 
hormones, radiation, tomatoes, tarred roads, 
grief and anxiety, drinking from iron pipes, 
arsenic, affluence, poverty, sexual 
abstinence, sexual promiscuity, and water 
derived from streams in which trout are 
abundant (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 215). 
Thirdly, there is evidence that environmental factors 
can play an important part in the aetiology of certain 
cancers in specific occupational groups. Uranium miners 
are a good example. Thus the incidence of lung cancer 
amongst non-smoking miners is as great as that amongst 
miners who smoke (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, p. 176). Doll 
and Peto's response would no doubt be that, as this 
evidence is based on a highly specific case involving a 
virulent carcinogen, it is inadmissible. Epstein, 
however, can also produce more general evidence of the 
role of environmental factors in the aetiology of 
cancer. For example: "[T]here are... data showing 
associations between levels of atmospheric carcinogens 
and lung cancer mortality rates... [which show that] the 
correlation coefficient between lung cancer and smoking 
internationally explains only one-third as much of the 
variation as does the correlation between lung cancer 
and solid fuel consumption" (Ibid). 
To conclude, if one assumes cancer to have a 
multifactoral aetiology (as Epstein does), then it is 
possible that more than 5% of cancers are due to 
environmental factors. At the very least, such factors 
might act synergistically or antagonistically with 
lifestyle factors to play a part in more than 59 of 
258 
cancer deaths (after all, the reverse can happen: it is 
believed that lung cancer in uranium miners attributable 
to dust inhalation is accelerated by smoking). But to 
put the radical view in perspective, while it is 
possible that environmental factors account for more 
than 5% of cancer deaths, it seems unlikely that they 
could account for 80% of deaths, as some argue (see 
Goldsmith et al, above). 
2.4 Treatment. 
2.4.1 'The War on Cancer'. 
In the days before the 1973 oil crisis and resulting 
economic 'stagflation', in the West everything seemed 
possible. Men had walked on the moon and had returned 
safely to Earth. A practical passenger transport 
aircraft had flown at twice the speed of sound, and 
public protest had forced a fundamental reappraisal of 
America's (and Britain's) foreign policy in South East 
Asia. So why not pursue that most glittering of prizes? 
Why not find a cure for cancer, the 'most dread' of all 
diseases? 
And so it was. In 1971, Richard Nixon, by Act of 
Congress, declared war on cancer. In response, 
researchers asked for $1,000 million a year for ten 
years, and by 1977 were receiving almost that amount 
($815 million). These were massive sums in the 1970s. At 
its peak, the programme employed 7,000 scientists 
(Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). 
259 
Although cancer research continues today in the United 
States, the contraction of public expenditure programmes 
brought about by the various oil crises of the 1970s, 
the humiliating retreat from South East Asia and the 
gradual loss of industrial competitiveness has 
proscribed further 'grand adventures' in the field of 
cancer science. Consequently, contemporary programmes 
like the US Army's initiative on breast cancer, are on a 
rather more modest scale than Nixon's all-out 'War on 
Cancer' (The Army has been given $210 million to 
develop a better understanding of and treatment for 
breast cancer (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 222)). 
2.4.2 Victory, Stalemate or Defeat? 
"[D]espite 25 years of research, only moderate 
progress has been made either in understanding 
carcinogenesis or in the treatment of cancer. 
Meanwhile, the incidence of the disease. . . 
has 
continued to increase" (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). 
While the picture is not entirely gloomy - with certain 
cancers, such as those of the cervix and stomach, being 
less deadly today than in the past - it must be noted 
that "The outlook is not so sanguine for the really big 
killers" (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 216). In the United 
States, for example, 95% of lung cancers (one of the 
most common carcinomas) prove fatal "Regardless of what 
form of treatment one chooses" (Ibid). In Britain, the 
office of Population Censuses and Surveys (OPCS) has 
noted "The stubborn resistance of lung cancer to all 
forms of treatment for more than 30 years". Even today, 
260 
the five year survival rate remains below 10% ('Cancer 
Statistics: Registrations', Office of Population 
Censuses and Surveys, UK, 1994, p. 9). Not only are most 
of the major cancers still as lethal as ever, but the 
number of new cases appears to be increasing: While in 
1981 in the US there were 815,000 new cancer cases 
annually, by 1988 the number of new cases annually had 
increased to 985,000. Although the bulk of this increase 
can be attributed to population growth, lifestyle 
factors, better diagnostic techniques and more extensive 
screening programmes, at least some of the increase may 
reasonably be attributed to environmental factors, such 
as greater exposure to harmful ultra violet rays through 
ozone depletion (The Environment Digest, EPL, Britain, 
1995/11-12, p. 12), the increase in the volume of 
potentially harmful inorganic chemicals in the 
environment, and the increase in vehicle emissions. As 
Proctor explains, cancer is both a product of the life- 
styles we lead' and 'of the substances to which we are 
exposed' (Op Cit, p. 215). This is certainly the case 
with regard to vehicle emissions, which produce not only 
adverse cardiovascular and lung function effects, but 
cancers. As The Environment Digest has noted, "Up to 
10,000 people in Britain die every year from breathing 
in particulates, microscopic specks of soot and 
chemicals, which penetrate deep into the lungs and cause 
breathing problems, lung cancer and heart attacks" 
(1995/2, p. 12). It has been noted both that the gains 
from cleaner automotive technologies may be cancelled 
out by the net increase year on year in the number of 
vehicles on Britain's roads (The Independent, April 25, 
261 
1995), and that "There is no safe level for public 
exposure to particulates". Thus, "Any amount in the 
atmosphere causes illness and premature deaths" (The 
Environment Digest, 1995/10, p. 14). Such assertions 
reflect "An accumulation of information pointing to 
environmental and occupational causes of cancers" 
(Albury, D., and Schwartz, J., Partial Progress: The 
Politics of Science and Technology, Pluto Press, UK, 
1982, p. 104). 
The number of people dying from cancer per head of 
population is also on the increase. For example, in the 
United States between 1950 and 1980, for those aged 
between 45 and 54, the number of cancer deaths per 
100,000 population increased from 175 to 179, and for 
those aged 55 to 64, the number of deaths increased from 
393 to 443 (Hadden, S. G., A Citizen's Right to Know: 
Risk Communication and Public Policy, Westview Press, 
USA, 1989, p. 9/10). (Again, while much of this increase 
may be due to the more accurate diagnosis of the cause 
of death, it is possible that some of the increase may 
be due to an increase in the prevalence of cancer 
amongst the general population). 
Worryingly, some cancer treatments are themselves 
potential cancer promoters. Chemotherapy, for example, 
besides reducing the patient's quality of (remaining) 
life, "Can increase the subsequent risk of developing a 
second cancer by up to 100 times" (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112). While the treatment of 
cancer is very much a matter of striking the right 
262 
balance between the eradication of the carcinoma and 
termination of the patient, it is nevertheless a fact 
that treatments can be unpleasant. Indeed, the 'three 
legs of the therapeutic triad' - chemotherapy, surgery, 
radiation - have been described by one commentator as, 
respectively, "Poison, slash and burn". Treatments can 
also cause death. Chemotherapy, for example, causes an 
increased risk of leukaemia (Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, 
p. 216). 
Governments are keen to point out that cancer survival 
rates have improved. In the US the current 'cure' rate 
is that around 50% of patients survive for 5 years or 
more. (While not wishing to diminish the scale of this 
achievement, it would be interesting to know how many 
people survive for 10,15 or 20 years. It should also be 
remembered that such statistics hide striking social 
inequalities in rates of cure. Thus while a white cancer 
sufferer has a 50% chance of surviving for five years, a 
black person has only a 38% chance (Goldsmith, E., and 
Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 112)). On a global analysis, the 
mortality rate for stomach cancer for 28 industrial 
countries fell between 1960 and 1980 by 45% in men and 
58% in women. Over the same period, deaths from cervical 
cancer "Dropped by 30% mostly due to widespread 
screening through the use of cervical smear tests" (The 
New Internationalist, August, 1989, p. 17). 
In Britain, the fight against cancer has been given 
expression in the government's 'Health of the Nation' 
cancer strategy. The strategy has a number of 
components, including the reorganisation of cancer 
263 
treatment services and the setting of target reductions 
in cancer mortality. The policy is informed by the 
principle of "Equity of access to the highest standard 
of treatment for all cancer patients" ('Cancer 
Statistics: Registrations', OPCS, Op Cit, p. 8). There 
have been successes, some attributable to improved 
diagnostic techniques and others to treatments. Thus, 
"The most convincing example of success in 
screening... is provided by cervical cancer. The 
incidence of invasive carcinoma of the cervix has fallen 
by up to 75% over the last 15 years in countries where 
efficient and widespread screening programmes have been 
implemented" (Ibid, p. 11) . Improved treatments 
have 
dramatically improved the mortality rates for leukaemia, 
especially in children: The survival rate for acute 
lymphoctic leukaemia "In the first five years of 
life. . . has risen 
from less than 5% in the 1960s to 
around 70% in the late 1980s" (Ibid). The decline in 
mortality from testicular cancer reflects both improved 
diagnostic techniques and improved treatments. Such 
promising statistics can, however, give a false 
impression: The incidence and mortality rates for 
several common carcinomas are rising (some, quite 
alarmingly). Thus, between about 1970 and 1990, "The 
death rate for malignant neoplasm of the prostate rose 
by over a third, from 202 [per million population] in 
1971-75 to 274 in 1986-90". Over the same period, while 
the death rate for malignant neoplasm of the trachea, 
bronchus and lung decreased in males from 1,088 per 
million to 921, the death rate for females increased 
264 
from 201 to 299 ('Mortality Statistics: Serial Tables', 
OPCS, 1992, p. xi). (It is likely that much of this 
increase reflects the targeting of women by tobacco 
firms). Melanoma, despite improved diagnostic techniques 
and treatments, shows "Only a small deceleration in the 
rate of increase in'mortality". The incidence of the 
disease is growing exponentially ('Cancer Statistics: 
Registrations', OPCS, Op Cit, p. 11). 
Of course, while the exponential growth of cancers like 
melanoma may be attributable both to environmental 
factors (ozone depletion), and lifestyle factors (the 
fashion for sun tans), others, like lung cancer, are 
attributable mainly to lifestyle factors (cigarette 
smoking). 
Smoking, a major cause of lung cancer, illustrates the 
importance of taking a global view of the 'War on 
Cancer'. Thus, while Britain showed a 26% fall in 
cigarette smoking per person between 1975 and 1984, 
Spain showed an increase of 50%, China, the most 
populous nation on earth, showed an increase of 85%, and 
Egypt an increase of 138%. Such figures reflect the fact 
that while "Tobacco consumption in the developed world 
is falling by about 1.1% annually, in the Third World it 
is rising by about 2.1% annually" (The New 
Internationalist, Op Cit, p. 17). 
To conclude, as overall cancer rates are increasing, it 
would appear that the 'War on Cancer' is not delivering 
the desired result. Even those health professionals who 
could be said to have a vested interest in 'talking up' 
265 
the project (with a view to securing more monies for 
curative research) are disappointed in the results: 
It has become hard to deny that the war 
against cancer is being lost. This was the 
conclusion of an article published in the 1986 
New England Journal. of Medicine by John Bilar 
and Elaine Smith. Stanford University 
president Donald Kennedy expressed a somewhat 
stronger view when he called America's cancer 
campaign "a medical Vietnam". James Watson, 
co-discoverer of the DNA double-helix and one 
of the nation's most widely respected 
scientists, simply called it "a bunch of shit" 
(Proctor, R. N., Op Cit, p. 216). 
Quite what Watson meant by his outburst is not explained 
in Proctor's text (which is determinedly set against the 
predominantly curative strategies pursued by the US 
medical establishment). And anyway, such an analysis 
would seem a little harsh. Firstly, because diagnostic 
techniques and treatments have improved. And secondly, 
because without Nixon's well intentioned (but only 
partially successful) initiative, the actual position 
today could well be much worse. While cancer specialists 
may indeed be losing the war, individual battles are 
being won - as with the more effective treatment of 
leukaemia in children. Also, it is important that the 
increased prevalence of cancer is seen in the context of 
the defeat of many other life-threatening diseases. 
Thus, while it is true that "Absolute cancer rates have 
increased in recent years", this increase should be seen 
in the context of the demise of such diseases as TB and 
the fact that cancer is predominantly a disease of the 
old. Thus, the older a population becomes, the more 
likely are its members to die from cancer (The New 
Internationalist, Op Cit, p. 24) . Also, as Beck 
has 
266 
noted, rapidly improving diagnostic techniques, by 
'discharging people into illness', may well give the 
impression of a 'cancer epidemic'. 
Nevertheless, the fact remains that, certainly at the 
time of the Fulham Power Station debate, the 'War on 
Cancer' was not going at all well. As a 1982 review put 
it; 
Despite 'advances' in chemotherapy (drug 
treatment), radiation treatment and surgical 
techniques, the survival periods and rates for 
cancer sufferers have not markedly improved 
(Aldbury, D., and Schwartz, J., Op Cit, 
p. 104). 
Indeed, in the thirty years prior to the decontamination 
and demolition of the power station, "There [had] been a 
steadily growing epidemic of various cancers" (Ibid). 
Such a determinedly bleak prognosis, if known to the 
power station activists, may well have influenced their 
reaction towards those who, either through ignorance, 
negligence or calculation, risked contaminating their 
neighbourhood with a potential carcinogen. 
2.4.3 The Social Construction of Anti-Cancer Strategies. 
There are a number of strategies for fighting cancer, 
the most elegant being to prevent the disease from 
developing in the first place. This tactic, advocated by 
Epstein and others, "Depends largely, if not 
exclusively, on political action" (Proctor, R. N., Op 
Cit, p. 217). Thus, the preventive approach requires that 
politicians commit themselves to effective programmes of 
267 
health screening, to public education, and to the 
elimination of environmental carcinogens. This form of 
preventive medicine is the very antithesis of the 
approach favoured by the medical establishment. 
In the UK some progress has been made on implementing 
preventive strategies. The more extensive use of smear 
tests and mammographs, for example, has helped in the 
diagnosis and more timely treatment of cervical and 
breast cancer. More generally, members of the public are 
now encouraged to adopt 'healthier lifestyles'. To this 
end, information is made available on healthy eating 
(although to what degree the poor can afford 'healthy 
foods' in the required quantity is open to question) and 
health centres run 'well women' and 'well men' clinics 
where such problems as obesity, smoking and stress are 
addressed. 
However, despite the promise held out by such 
strategies, a number of factors can be seen to militate 
against the adoption of a comprehensive programme of 
preventive medicine. The first consideration is that 
heroic medicine carries greater kudos than preventive 
medicine: Few Nobel Prizes are awarded to those who 
manage cancer prevention programmes. As a consequence, 
curative medicine has the potential to attract both the 
most talented researchers and doctors and the largest 
sums of money. 
The second consideration is, quite simply, that curative 
medicine "Leads to the development of marketable 
products - such as anti-cancer drugs. Prevention does 
268 
not" (Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op Cit, p. 113). 
These 'marketable products' perform a host of useful 
social and economic functions: They generate employment 
in the chemicals and pharmaceuticals sectors; they 
generate profits and dividends; they sustain and promote 
both the companies' and country's reputation for 
scientific and technological innovation; and last, but 
not least, profitable chemicals and drugs companies 
generate taxable wealth for the Exchequer. This is an 
important political consideration, for the greater the 
wealth generated by industry, the less the burden of 
general taxation on the public (at least, potentially). 
And the smaller the burden of general taxation, the 
greater the potential for a 'feel good' factor amongst 
the electorate. 
But surely this is far too cynical an analysis? Not so, 
if Albury and Schwartz are to be believed: 
Much has been written on the political economy 
of health, and a standard critique of 
capitalist medicine has been the emphasis it 
places on curative approaches almost to the 
exclusion of preventative measures. . . The case 
of cancer illustrates the argument well... 
Billions of pounds and dollars have 
been, and continue to be, spent on the search 
for a cure... Alongside this massive allocation 
of resources has been an accumulation of 
information pointing to environmental and 
occupational causes of cancers. Far from 
prompting a diversion of funding into 
prevention... the search for a cure... continues 
and intensifies... 
But an assault on the causes of cancer, 
a prevention programme, would place under the 
microscope not the cells of the cancer victim, 
but a production process which manufactures 
both conditions at work and products which 
harm the health of the majority of people. And 
all this without producing an extended market 
for industry. A curative approach holds out 
the promise of super profits for the firm (s) 
269 
which market the breakthroughs in cancer 
treatments (Op Cit, p. 104). 
Knowing where the money is, scientists invest their 
intellectual capital in the curative paradigm, hoping to 
attract lucrative research grants: 
Researchers write grant applications stressing 
what is very often the most tentative link to 
an understanding of carcinogenesis in order to 
secure funding. The cumulative result is that 
many areas of the biological sciences are 
under-developed, whilst areas centrally and 
marginally concerned with the biochemistry of 
cancerous cells have been swamped with money. 
It is not the radical critics of medicine who 
are exploiting the genuine suffering of cancer 
victims. . . but the drug companies, the medical 
equipment manufacturers and the scientific 
managers of the research funds (Op Cit, 
p. 104). 
(What Albury and Schwartz forget, however, is that even 
if preventive medicine were given pre-eminence in cancer 
strategies, the same amount might still be spent on 
cures for those, perhaps with a genetic propensity to 
carcinogenesis, who 'slipped through the preventive 
net'. It would be a brave government indeed that 
abandoned the search for the 'Holy Grail' -a cure for 
cancer). 
There is evidence to support the view that preventive 
medicine consistently loses out to its more glamorous 
rival. For example, "The Canadian Cancer Society.. . one 
of the few in the world to devote funds to public 
advocacy work... spends only 17.3% of its funds on public 
education and prevention and more than 50% on research 
to find a cancer cure" (The New Internationalist, Op 
Cit, p. 16). 
270 
Sometimes, due to the labyrinthine structure of 
international capital, the same horizontally integrated 
multinationals produce both cancer cures and 
carcinogens. It could be said, therefore, that industry 
and government stand to gain much more from a curative 
than from a preventive strategy - with the release of 
carcinogenic by-products into the environment by 
industry generating a demand for cancer cures, and the 
government sharing in the not inconsiderable profits 
resulting from their manufacture. (Such a 'conspiracy 
theory' is, however, tested by the fact that the high 
cost of curative medicine may well exceed (by some 
considerable margin) the contribution to national wealth 
made by the petrochemicals and pharmaceuticals sectors). 
A final consideration is that a full-blown preventive 
strategy, requiring the pre-market testing of all 
chemical compounds (where testing is actually possible), 
may well place an impossible financial burden on 
industry, stifle innovation and cause lay-offs and/or 
redundancies. Also, the withdrawal of compounds that are 
shown to be carcinogenic would both reduce gross income, 
and threaten a torrent of compensation claims from 
affected publics. (There are currently 2,000 claims for 
bodily injury due to asbestos contamination received 
each month on the London insurance market (Springett, 
P., 'Toxins Could Be Lloyd's Death Knell', The Guardian, 
January 1,1994). 
Given the above considerations, it can be seen that 
anti-cancer strategies are - potentially - as much a 
271 
product of economic, as of medical efficiency. 
Such considerations have the potential to stymie cancer 
prevention programmes. Cigarette smoking provides a good 
example of the conflict. that can arise between health 
and economic objectives. Cigarettes are a major source 
of illness in the general population (one doctor has 
estimated, perhaps somewhat wildly, that around 70% of 
all illness is attributable to cigarette smoking. 
Globally, "Tobacco kills approximately 2.5 million 
people a year, making it the largest single preventable 
cause of death" (The New Internationalist, Op Cit, 
p. 17)). But cigarettes are also a source of employment, 
balance of payments success, user enjoyment and revenue 
for the Exchequer. Such considerations certainly have 
the potential to moderate the development of preventive 
strategies on smoking. It may well be the case, for 
example, that the Government's May, 1994 refusal to 
introduce a blanket ban on tobacco advertising had 
something to do with the interplay of the aforementioned 
social and economic considerations with health factors 
(although health considerations were recognised in a ban 
on tobacco advertising within 200 metres of schools, and 
the printing of health warnings on cigarette-branded 
beer mats and ashtrays (Mihill, C., 'Poster Exclusion 
Zone For Schools', The Guardian, May 14,1994). But 
again, it is important to take a global view of the 
problem. Thus, as soon as a developed country such as 
Britain decides to campaign against smoking, the tobacco 
firms turn their attention to countries with less 
developed preventive strategies, sometimes using 
272 
'ferocious' promotional campaigns (The New 
Internationalist, Op Cit, p. 25). 
2.5 Conclusion. 
Cancer is becoming more prevalent. That is, the number 
of cases per head of population is increasing year on 
year (although some of the 'increase' may be 
attributable to improved diagnostic techniques). At the 
same time, investments made in cancer research and 
treatment/preventive programmes are yielding only 
limited benefits. As a leading cancer researcher has put 
it. 
After decades of effort most cancers are 
treated no more successfully today than in the 
past (The New Internationalist, Op Cit, p. 25). 
Consequently, cancer's potential to cause alarm is 
undiminished. (The above summation dates from the late 
1980s. Presumably, the outlook would have been even more 
gloomy at the time of the power station debate). 
The argument over causation polarises around the 
theories of Epstein (environmental factors) and Doll and 
Peto (lifestyle factors). Although the argument may seem 
somewhat arcane, it has important implications for risk 
and hazard debates involving suspected environmental 
carcinogens like asbestos. Thus, if the public were to 
subscribe to the lifestyle theory of causation, then the 
role of environmental carcinogens would be seen to be 
relatively unimportant. But if, on the other hand, the 
environmental theory held sway, such suspected 
273 
environmental carcinogens as asbestos would have at 
least the potential to cause alarm amongst the general 
public (as cancer is still very much a 'dread' disease). 
The degree to which this potential was realised would 
depend upon two factors: Firstly, whether or not 
asbestos was considered carcinogenic by the public; And 
secondly, whether asbestos was considered to be a more 
immediate threat to health than such 'social' hazards as 
poverty, poor housing, unemployment, underemployment, 
low wages, reduced benefits, drug abuse, crime, or 
institutionalised discrimination. 
3 Asbestos. 
3.1 Nature, History and Uses. 
Asbestos is a chemically neutral mineral rock. Processed 
asbestos rock produces either blue, brown or white 
asbestos fibres (although after prolonged use the 
material loses its colour). These minute fibres, 
although soft to the touch, are very strong, and may be 
woven and pressed into light, durable shapes, like wall 
panels, water pipes or corrugated roofing sheets. 
Finished products have excellent heat resisting and 
sound deadening properties. 
While white asbestos is susceptible to acid attack, blue 
and brown asbestos are not. This makes blue and brown 
asbestos suitable for use in coal-burning power 
stations, where the combustion process generates sulphur 
dioxide which, when mixed with water vapour, produces 
sulphuric acid. 
274 
While the mineral has many admirable properties, it does 
have one major drawback, namely that asbestos fibres are 
extremely small - much smaller in diameter than a human 
hair, for example - and. are consequently difficult to 
suppress in both the mining and asbestos manufacturing 
environments. 
In Britain, the asbestos story began in the late 
nineteenth century when Samuel Turner of Rochdale first 
used the material to lag steam boilers. From his efforts 
grew the biggest company in the UK asbestos industry, 
Turner and Newall (now known simply as 'T&N'). Asbestos 
production accelerated dramatically during and after the 
Second World War. Between 1960 and 1975, for example, 
production more than doubled from 2,210 million kilos in 
1960 to 4,560 million kilos in 1975. In 1979 it was 
estimated that there were still 20-30 years supply left 
in the earth (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 17). 
Asbestos is everywhere. Every foot of the London 
Underground has been coated with sprayed limpet asbestos 
(SLA). Schools and hospitals contain large amounts of 
asbestos in wall panels and lagging (60% of the asbestos 
imported into the UK has been used in the construction 
industry ('NALGO [Unison] Magsheet', No. 20, February 
1984)). Asbestos has been extensively used as a roofing 
material: By 1994, over one billion tons of corrugated 
asbestos sheeting had been used by the UK roofing 
industry ('Asbestos Cement Roof Cleaning and Surface 
Preparation', Asbestos Removal Contractors Association 
(ARCA) News, January, 1994, p. 8). Electric and gas 
275 
cookers contain asbestos. Plastics, coating agents, 
textiles, talcum powder and even paper can contain 
asbestos. In fact, asbestos is now present in more than 
3,000 products. It is fair to say, therefore, that 
asbestos is a ubiquitous, if not a familiar, product. 
3.2 Asbestos: 'Wonder Mineral'. 
While it is tempting to condemn the widespread use of 
asbestos on health grounds, it should be remembered that 
- certainly at the turn of the century - the material 
provided a convenient and cost-effective solution to the 
problem of lagging steam boilers. The 'asbestos 
mattress', pioneered by Samuel Turner (of Rochdale), was 
a boon to the engineer. Later in the century, asbestos 
proved immensely valuable to the naval architect as a 
means of fireproofing warships. Indeed, the failure to 
exploit the material in the design of American warships 
compounded the disaster at Pearl Harbour, where many 
warships were needlessly lost to fire. After the Second 
World War use of the material spread to building design, 
where the wet spraying of asbestos provided architects 
with an excellent fire retardant and acoustic baffle. 
(Sprayed limpet asbestos (SLA) realised huge profits for 
Turner and Newall, the company that pioneered the 
technique). The material was also put to more homely 
uses. Asbestos mittens provided safety in the kitchen, 
while theatre audiences benefited from asbestos safety 
curtains. Garages made of asbestos panels were durable, 
relatively cheap and easy to erect. All in all, 
therefore, the sobriquet 'wonder mineral' was aptly 
276 
applied to asbestos... that is until questions about its 
health effects were raised in detailed epidemiologic 
studies. 
3.3 Asbestos: 'Health Disaster' 
3.3.1 Introduction. 
The intention in this section is to describe the events 
and discoveries that led some people to question the 
safety of asbestos. (Arguments between those for and 
against the mineral (i. e. the 'risk discourses') are 
reviewed in later sections). 
3.3.2 The Opposition's Case. 
The adverse health effects of asbestos were first noted 
in Britain in the last century: In his 1898 Annual 
Report, the Chief Inspector of Factories and Workshops 
commented, for the first time, on 'The evil effects of 
asbestos dust': 
The evil effects of asbestos dust have also 
attracted my attention, a microscopic 
examination of this mineral dust which was 
made by H. M. Medical Inspector clearly 
revealed the sharp, glass-like, jagged nature 
of the particles, and where they are allowed 
to rise and remain suspended in the air of a 
room, in any quantity, the effects have been 
found to be injurious, as might have been 
expected [My emphasis] ('NALGO [Unison] 
Magsheet', Op Cit). 
The suspected adverse health effects of the mineral were 
again noted in a 1906 Home Office report. However, only 
the general respiratory implications of working in a 
277 
dust-laden environment were considered: cancer was not 
an issue. The Home Office report, like the earlier Chief 
Inspector's report, was not acted upon. 
Then in 1928, government research revealed 80% of 
asbestos workers to be suffering significant respiratory 
impairment (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, ' p. 53). The 
condition, which became known as 'asbestosis', resulted 
from the scarring of delicate lung tissue by inhaled 
asbestos fibres. Asbestosis is a progressive disease. In 
severe cases, the degree of scarification is such that 
asphyxiation results. Once inside the lung the fibres 
cannot be removed. There are no remedial treatments. The 
1928 findings led to the drafting of regulations in 1932 
which covered dust levels in a limited range of 
asbestos-manufacturing concerns. The regulations were 
never strictly enforced: in 40 years there were only two 
prosecutions (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, p. 54). There is 
a view that the general lack of action following the 
introduction of the regulations reflected the role of 
the asbestos industry in their formulation and 
application: 
Industry representatives played a crucial role 
in determining the scope and limits of future 
regulations for the British asbestos industry. 
Trade unions were brought into the 
negotiations at a much later date and were, 
more or less, met by a fait accompli. Wikeley 
concludes that the main reason the. . . Asbestos 
Regulations proved inadequate was that "the 
emphasis throughout the negotiations was on 
meeting a proven hazard by minimal 
interference with existing industrial 
processes, rather than on dealing with the 
potentially much wider dangers of asbestos 
exposure" ('The Asbestos Regulations 1931', 
ARCA News, April, 1993, p. 9). 
278 
It is unsurprising that the regulations were so lax, 
given the prevailing 'laissez faire' philosophies of 
pre-war governments, and the growing economic value of 
the asbestos industry. As The Guardian has put it: 
The fireproof mineral was so commercially 
valuable... that effective action was not taken 
until after the second world war (Dyer, C., 
and Wainwright, M., 'Dying Asbestos Victim 
Wins £65,000 From Firm That Ignored Health 
Risks', Op Cit, October 28,1995). 
Until the mid-1930s asbestos was not thought to play any 
part in cancer causation. Instead, health experts 
'constructed' asbestos only as a general threat to 
efficient respiration - much like coal dust. Then in 
1935, the possibility of a link between the mineral and 
lung cancer was raised - although the observations of 
Lynch and Smith were complicated by the fact that 
"Almost all the victims in their study also smoked" 
(Foster, K. R., Bernstein, D. E., and Huber, P. W., (Eds) 
Phantom Risk: Scientific Inference and the Law, 
Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, US, 1993, 
p. 187). By 1955, however, Richard Doll had gathered the 
necessary objective epidemiological evidence to confirm 
the hypothesis. (Doll's was, in fact, "The first good 
epidemiologic study" of the link between cancer of the 
lung and asbestos dust (Ibid)). 
The possibility of a link between asbestos and 
mesothelioma, an always-fatal cancer of the lining of 
the chest and/or abdominal cavity, was not raised until 
the mid-1950s, when Wagner's studies of South African 
gold miners suggested a link between the cancer and 
279 
asbestos dust inhalation (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, 
p. 187) . 
Claims for asbestos-related disease (and for 
contaminated real estate) began to appear at Lloyds of 
London in the early 1980s. By 1985,500 claims per month 
were being processed. By 1988, the number had risen to 
2,000 claims per month (Springett, P., Op Cit). 
In 1995 an important precedent was set when a judge 
awarded significant sums of money to a litigant who 
claimed that her health had been damaged through non- 
workplace exposure to asbestos dust. The claimant, who 
had lived in the vicinity of the J. W. Roberts asbestos 
factory in Leeds (eventually owned by T&N) and who was 
dying from mesothelioma, was awarded £65,000 
compensation against T&N. T&N were ordered to pay a 
second claimant £50,000 compensation for the death of 
her husband (Dyer, C., Op Cit) . The couple had lived in 
the vicinity of the J. W. Roberts factory prior to its 
closure in 1958. Although T&N said it would appeal 
against the ruling, the awards were a body blow to the 
industry: 
Nineteen similar cases have already been filed 
and the ruling against T&N is expected to lead 
to a torrent of others - from those who lived 
in the Armley district of Leeds, where the 
factory was located, and relations of those 
who died from mesothelioma... (Carlton, E., 
'T&N To Pay Over Asbestos Cases', The Evening 
Standard, October 27,1995). 
Business analysts were in no doubt that the 1995 
judgement had serious implications for the asbestos 
280 
industry: 
Sandy Morris, engineering analyst at Nat West 
Markets, [said]: "The decision sets a worrying 
precedent. The decision appears to 
significantly widen the scope for litigation 
just when T&N's asbestos costs were about to 
come under control". (Carlton, E., Op Cit). 
The cost to the financial markets of asbestos-related 
disease is already significant: At the end of 1993 some 
225,000 claims had been received by Lloyds from all over 
the world. Of this number about 100,000 had been settled 
at a cost to market investors and asbestos companies of 
£2 billion. Some sixteen asbestos companies have been 
bankrupted (Springett, P., Op Cit). At the end of 1995, 
T&N was facing a damages claim of £117 million from New 
York's Chase Manhattan Bank for asbestos contamination 
in its headquarters building. T&N has set aside £150 
million to meet claims in US and British courts (Dyer, 
C., Op Cit). 
The United States, where 12,000 die each year from 
suspected asbestos-related cancers, presents a similarly 
bleak picture for the asbestos industry. In the 1980s, 
for example, one of the biggest-ever asbestos companies, 
johns-Manville, filed for bankruptcy under the weight of 
100,000 law suits (Goldsmith, E., and Hildyard, N., Op 
Cit, p. 111). 
The demise of the Johns-Manville Corporation is an 
allegory on the sickly state of the asbestos industry. 
In the early 1960s, the company was the largest producer 
of asbestos fibre in the world. It had 33 factories and 
mines in North America, and was on the 'Fortune 500' 
281 
list of 'blue chip' companies. Indeed, it was known to 
some as "The bluest of the blue" ( Sells, B., 'What 
Asbestos Taught Me About Managing Risk', Harvard 
Business Review, March-April, 1994, p. 77) . By 1982, 
however, the company, faced with a snowstorm of 
compensation claims, had no choice but to file for 
bankruptcy. By the time Johns-Manville had been 
reorganised and refinanced in 1988, its shareholders 
(many of whom were either current or ex-employees) had 
lost up to 98% of their investment in the company 
(Ibid). 
The 1982 collapse was hastened by a landmark legal 
judgement in the New Jersey Supreme Court (Manville was 
registered in New Jersey). The ruling, that "Not even 
'unknowability' - the absence of any scientific evidence 
that a product may be harmful - is an adequate defence" 
(Ibid), opened the floodgates for litigation against the 
company. More significantly for future generations of 
workers and users, the judgement changed the industry's 
whole attitude to product safety: 
To protect employees, customers, stockholders, 
society, and the business itself from product 
an production hazards, [asbestos industry] 
managers must [now] go well beyond 
appearances, union demands, and the letter of 
the law. They must anticipate and lead the 
drive to head off environmental hazards and 
risks. They must study, analyse, assess, 
communicate and prevent the damage their 
methods and products might cause (Ibid). 
Unfortunately, this change of heart amongst asbestos 
industry executives has done little to staunch the flow 
of claims. Thus, by the mid-1990s, "[American] schools, 
282 
hospitals and state and federal governments [had] ... 
$15 
billion to $16 billion in claims pending against 
asbestos manufacturers" ('Court Finds Limits on 
Insurance Held by Asbestos Firms', ARCA News, July, 
1994, p. 15). Such massive claims indicate the extent to 
which asbestos is thought to have affected public 
health. As one of those convinced of the link between 
asbestos and ill health has opined, "There are far more 
cancer deaths being caused by asbestos now than by all 
other known occupational carcinogens put together" 
(Peto, J., interviewed in 'An Acceptable Level of 
Death', 'Taking Liberties', BBC TV, 1994). 
4 Mesothelioma. 
4.1 Introduction. 
If cancer is a 'dread disease', then mesothelioma must 
be a contender for the title 'most dread' cancer. The 
following first and second-hand accounts of the pain and 
suffering characteristic of mesothelioma may shock. 
That, however, is not the intention. Rather, the 
accounts are intended to show what a fully risk 
conscious public might learn, or be told, about 
mesothelioma. That is, the accounts are a means to 
understanding the nature of mesothelioma. (What a public 
familiar with the disease might choose to do about 
asbestos contamination is not a question addressed in 
this Chapter). 
283 
4.1.1 Michael Watson's Death. 
"He always had this feeling that he would 
never live to an old age because of his job, 
and he didn't live. He thought he would die 
before he was 45 and he was right, he did... 
He knew he didn't have long left because he 
just wanted to sit up and he was trying to 
call my name so I could help him up, and I was 
trying to lift him... 
When I was lifting him up there was fluid -I 
think it must have been his stomach - his 
insides were just breaking up. It was just 
coming out of his mouth and his nose all of 
the time and obviously he was panicking. It 
was choking him. It was right up into his 
throat, and there wasn't a thing I could do 
about it, and he knew. He just wanted to cling 
on as long as he could. And he did, for that 
last year... "('An Acceptable Level of Death'). 
This statement, made by the widow of an asbestos lagger 
to a BBC TV reporter, bears testimony to the pain and 
indignity suffered by those who die from mesothelioma. 
Mesothelioma is always fatal. Even in 1996, there is no 
cure for the disease (Dyer, C., Op Cit) . Moira Watson's 
husband, Michael, started work as a lagger with Swann 
Hunters on the Tyne in 1964. He was diagnosed with 
mesothelioma in 1991 and died a short time later aged 42 
- as he predicted he would. 
4.1.2 David Standen's Death. 
"He was only skin and bone, and he was 
completely black... 
And the pain, that was just, even with all 
he'd got for the pain, was just killing... " 
This statement, made on the same BBC programme by Else 
284 
Standen, concerns the death of her husband David from 
mesothelioma. David Standen worked as an asbestos lagger 
for Newalls. His two brothers also died prematurely. 
Like David Standen, they too were asbestos laggers at 
Newalls. 
As such testimony demonstrates, mesothelioma deaths are 
painful and undignified. Of course, mesothelioma has no 
monopoly on physical pain and indignity. Other terminal 
illnesses may be equally distressing. But mesothelioma 
may be qualitatively different because of its status as 
a carcinoma. Consequently, because of the 'dread' nature 
of the disease, mesothelioma has the potential to cause 
alarm amongst an 'at risk' population. 
4.2 Prevalence of the Disease. 
To those convinced of a link between asbestos dust and 
mesothelioma, "Asbestos cancer is a bigger killer than 
the AIDS virus" (Harris, F., 'Lawyer's Call To Victims 
Of Asbestos', South Wales Evening Post, February 24, 
1994). A more studied assessment, however, is that the 
number of deaths attributable to mesothelioma is set to 
treble within thirty years. Professor Julian Peto, for 
example, has estimated that by the year 2025, the number 
of mesothelioma deaths in the UK will have risen from 
the present 1,000 a year, to 2,500 to 3,000 a year 
(Peto, J., interviewed in 'An Acceptable Level of 
Death', Op Cit). Worryingly, the under-reporting of 
mesothelioma deaths implies that such figures may under- 
estimate the size of the problem. For example, "A 
detailed study at one asbestos factory noted 19 cases of 
285 
mesothelioma, yet only four had been 'officially' 
reported" (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 31). (Of 
course, as the aetiology of mesothelioma is not 100% 
certain, these deaths could legitimately have been 
attributed to a cause other than asbestos dust 
exposure). 
While steps have been taken to protect workers involved 
in asbestos removal (with the introduction of the 
Asbestos (Licensing) Regulations in 1983), "A license is 
not required to cover work with asbestos insulating 
board". Consequently, building workers may still be 
subject to a 'substantial exposure on a daily basis' 
(ARCA News, April 1995, p. 1). Even maintenance workers 
are at risk, either because they may be required to work 
directly on asbestos building components, or because 
vibration from hammering or drilling may disturb 
asbestos dust. Such concerns have prompted the HSE to 
mount a national asbestos safety campaign (ARCA News, 
April 1995, p. 1). 
4.3 Characteristics of the Disease. 
Mesothelioma is a cancer of the lining of the chest and 
abdominal cavities - the mesothelium. The membrane 
lubricates the walls of the chest and abdomen, allowing 
the lungs and intestines to move without friction. If 
the mesothelium in the chest cavity becomes cancerous, 
lubrication is inhibited and breathing becomes painful. 
Tumours may develop in other organs. In severe cases 
tumours burst through the chest wall and become visible 
286 
on the outside of the patient's body. The lungs thicken, 
making breathing increasingly difficult. The patient may 
asphyxiate. If the mesothelium in the abdominal cavity 
becomes cancerous, pain results. Secondary cancers may 
cause the intestines to disintegrate. 
The latency period for mesothelioma can be up to 40 
years, although 20 is more usual (Asbestos Killer Dust, 
Op Cit, p. 28). It always kills, often very quickly 
(Dyer, C., Op Cit). As one 1978 study revealed, "The 
average time of death from first diagnosis [of 
mesothelioma] was six months" (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op 
Cit, p. 28). The same study also reported that "There is 
no convincing evidence that any form of treatment 
prolongs life" (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 28). 
4.4 The Debate Over Causation. 
4.4.1 Introduction. 
As the following views illustrate, the debate over the 
health effects of asbestos is highly charged: 
"This booklet is dedicated to the many working 
class people who have been murdered by the 
asbestos industry" (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op 
Cit, p. 6). 
"Health concerns about low-level exposure to 
asbestos are. . . very speculative. 
Some 
monitoring of environmental asbestos might be 
appropriate, but drastic changes or a complete 
ban can be deferred without risk of disaster" 
(Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, p. 205). 
The dedication is taken from the book Asbestos Killer 
Dust, published in 1979 by the British Society for 
287 
Social Responsibility in Science (BSSRS). The book talks 
of "A real epidemic of asbestos-related diseases", 
which, according to the BSSRS, "Could have been 
prevented" (Op Cit, p. 7). The second quotation, taken 
from the appropriately named revisionist book Phantom 
Risk, represents the opposite polarity of the asbestos 
debate. 
Each camp can muster detailed scientific and 
epidemiologic evidence to support its preferred view of 
asbestos hazard. The views of each camp are outlined 
below. 
Before embarking on a summary of the arguments, however, 
it is helpful to consider Beck's comments on on the 
socially situated and highly contingent nature of 
risk/hazard assessment: 
Hazards... are defined and evaluated socially - 
in the mass media, in the experts' debate, in 
the jungle of interpretations and 
jurisdictions, in courts or with strategic- 
intellectual dodges, in a milieu and in 
contexts.. . We are 
dealing with 'scientific 
battles' waged over the heads of the workers, 
and fought out instead by intellectual 
strategies in intellectual milieux (Beck, U., 
'From Industrial Society to the Risk Society: 
Questions of Survival, Social Structure and 
Ecological Enlightenment', in Featherstone, 
M., Cultural Theory and Cultural Change, Sage, 
USA, 1992, p. 112). 
The arguments over asbestos hazard confirm Beck's view 
that hazards are evaluated in a milieu and in 
contexts'. Each camp successfully (in its own terms) 
defines the hazardousness of the mineral in a manner 
contingent with its own scientific and/or parochial 
economic interests. 
288 
4.4.2 The Optimists. 
Those doctors and researchers who argue against the 
depiction of asbestos as a 'health disaster' are careful 
to discriminate between the various types of the 
mineral; crocidolite (blue), amosite (brown) and 
chrysotile (white) asbestos. Large amounts of chrysotile 
asbestos have been used in industrial and consumer 
goods, like water pipes and ironing mats. However, 
despite its generic associations and ubiquity, 
chrysotile is considered by some to pose a negligible 
threat to public health. This is because chrysotile 
fibres are thought to be too small to damage the human 
lung. Put simply, the lungs use special white cells 
called macrophage cells to protect themselves from 
potentially harmful particles. Any foreign bodies, such 
as soot particles or viruses, that reach the lungs are 
digested by the macrophage cells using a complex 
cocktail of secretions - provided, that is, they are 
less than about 8 microns in length. Particles over 8 
microns, however, being too long to be completely 
ingested by the macrophage cell, pierce the cell wall, 
allowing the powerful digestive chemicals to escape. It 
is believed that these chemicals may, in time, produce 
cancers, including mesothelioma. This mechanism would 
seem to imply that white asbestos fibres, which are 
curly, are more easily ingested by macrophage cells than 
blue and brown asbestos fibres, which are straight and 
sharp. Another consideration is that the secretions of 
the macrophage cell only work on alkaline substances, 
289 
like chrysotile asbestos. This means that substances 
with an acid base, like amosite and crocidolite, are 
largely unaffected by the secretions of the macrophage 
cell. While this acid-resisting property may render blue 
and brown asbestos especially useful in the sulphurous 
atmosphere of a coal-burning power station, it bodes ill 
for the health of any individual who ingests either 
material. However, despite the increased health risk 
posed by blue and brown asbestos, one doctor (a former 
medical advisor to Cape Asbestos) is convinced that "The 
minimum exposure [to amosite and crocidolite] required 
before a person is put at risk... is still considerable" 
[My emphasis] (Browne, K., 'Health Check: Fibres in the 
Lungs', ARCA News, April, 1993, p. 6). 
The same doctor is even more sanguine about the 
prospects for white asbestos, commenting that "Most 
chrysotile fibres do not persist in the lungs for more 
than a few weeks" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). This 
analysis is justified by reference to chrysotile's 
alkaline composition, short fibre length and geometry. 
Some people are so convinced of the essentially benign 
nature of white asbestos that they have been moved to 
comment that there is no real evidence of a link between 
this variety of the mineral and mesothelioma. As the 
former advisor to Cape Asbestos, now a member of the 
Colt Fiber Research Foundation (based at the Institute 
of Occupational Medicine in Edinburgh) has put it, 
"Mesothelioma is virtually unknown in manufacturing and 
construction industries which only use asbestos in the 
form of chrysotile" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). Others 
290 
have commented that "The risks of chrysotile asbestos 
are almost certainly lower than for other forms", and 
that "Mesothelioma has never been definitely linked to 
chrysotile asbestos" (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, 
p. 203) 
There is talk in the United States today about a 'Third 
Wave' (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, p. 187) of asbestos 
disease. While the first and second waves affected, 
respectively, asbestos workers and asbestos laggers, it 
is said that a third wave of disease is set to affect 
ordinary members of the public - people like office 
workers, school children, teachers or maintenance staff 
who may work in environments polluted by asbestos 
fibres. The optimists, however, despite intense 
speculation about the extent and seriousness of the 
problem, are convinced that asbestos has no case to 
answer: 
Although this is still a fertile source of 
litigation in the US, there has only been one 
published case in the medical literature 
suggesting that a mesothelioma was linked to 
mere occupancy of an asbestos-containing 
building, and it has been wholly discredited. 
As far as I am aware, there have been no court 
actions in the UK on behalf of occupants, and 
on the basis of recent evidence it can be said 
that the prospects of success would be nil 
(Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). 
The optimists are able to marshal considerable hard 
evidence to support the view that "Levels of airborne 
fibre concentration, even in rooms with damaged and 
crumbling asbestos, are little different from those in 
buildings containing none" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). 
291 
Such evidence has led to a serious challenge to the 
'third wave' theory in the United States, as evinced by 
the following comment taken from the book Phantom Risk, 
a recently published critique of contemporary social 
constructions of technological hazard: 
The possibility that occupants of buildings 
might have adverse effects from asbestos 
therein has been called by some 'the third 
wave of asbestos disease' .. . However. . . no 
firm 
evidence exists for any adverse effect with 
the possible exception of custodians and 
maintenance workers... Moreover, the 
measurements of asbestos concentrations, 
particularly the more recent ones, make this 
very unlikely.. It is the concern about this 
'third wave' that makes the asbestos risk a 
'phantom risk' (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, 
p. 187). 
Generally, therefore, the optimists have been able, 
through scientific and/or epidemiologic studies, to 
mount a strong defence of chrysotile. Several research 
projects have testified to the relatively benign 
characteristics of white asbestos. As Foster, Bernstein 
and Huber explain: 
The number of mesotheliomas in the chrysotile 
mine studied by McDonald is much less than the 
number among insulation workers exposed to 
crocidolite. In a study of asbestos workers in 
Rochdale, Peto et al (1985) found few 
mesotheliomas, consistent with a small amount 
of crocidolite present. A critical analysis of 
the epidemiologic data by Langer and Nolan 
(1988) confirms the difference between 
chrysotile and other types of asbestos 
(Phantom Risk, Op Cit, p. 197). 
Encouraged by such results, Cape's former medical 
advisor, Doctor Kevin Browne (also a former chairman of 
the Research Committee of the Asbestosis Research 
Council) has called for the 'rehabilitation' of 
292 
chrysotile, whose reputation he believes to have been 
unfairly tainted through its association with 
crocidolite and amosite: 
This decade has seen great advances in our 
understanding of how disease may result from 
inhaling fibres such as asbestos. While there 
is a good reason for a total ban on the use of 
blue or brown asbestos in the construction 
industry, chrysotile could still play a 
valuable part without risk to health. Its use 
continues on a large scale in the East, where 
it has an essential role in the supply of 
drinking water in underdeveloped countries. 
But it is unlikely to increase in the West in 
the face of popular prejudice [My emphasis] 
(Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). 
A recurring theme in the arguments of the rehabilitators 
is that prosperous Western countries have taken 
precipitate action against a potentially highly useful 
material. In contrast, poorer countries have had to make 
a realistic assessment of the costs and benefits of 
abandoning chrysotile. Such assessments have evaluated 
not just the health, but also the economic aspects of 
the asbestos debate. As a consequence, "The use of 
chrysotile for asbestos cement products continues at a 
high level in Russia and Asia" (Browne, K., Op Cit, 
p. 6). Furthermore, even in Britain, where the supply of 
asbestos products has been curtailed, certain 
occupational groups like farmers continue to use 
asbestos on grounds of cost and efficiency: 
Chrysotile... continues to be used in this 
country, although on a greatly reduced scale. 
Asbestos-cement products - corrugated sheet, 
rainwater goods and pipes - are still in 
demand, particularly for agricultural 
purposes, farmers valuing the cheapness and 
reliability of corrugated sheet and having 
more to worry about than asbestosis in their 
293 
livestock (sic) (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 7). 
The continued use of asbestos products by farmers 
suggests that the risks associated with asbestos may be 
evaluated in a wider social and economic context: 
British farmers, although aware of the health risks 
associated with the product, continue to use it on 
grounds of economic efficiency. Obviously, to the 
farmer, the financial risk of abandoning what is seen as 
a useful and cost-effective material outweighs whatever 
health risks might be shown to emanate from it. 
The irony of 'asbestos 
to the mineral's champi 
multiply rather than 
resulting from its use. 
that removing asbestos 
into the environment 
material in situ: 
abatement' campaigns, according 
ons, is that remedial action can 
lessen the risks and hazards 
It has been shown, for example, 
can release more asbestos dust 
than simply maintaining the 
It has been shown that where asbestos is 
removed from buildings, airborne fibres are 
present for months in higher concentration 
than before. In one remarkable investigation 
carried out by the H&SE in a school where 
asbestos removal took place in accordance with 
best safety practice, it was found that the 
children would inhale as much asbestos in the 
year after its bulk removal as they would have 
done in the whole of their school careers if 
it had been left in place. The moral is clear; 
asbestos in place is harmless and gives 
negligible amounts of airborne dust unless it 
is subjected to major disturbance (Browne, K., 
Op Cit, p. 6). 
As a consequence of such findings, many agencies, 
including the World Health Organisation (WHO), America's 
Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and Britain's 
294 
Health and Safety Executive (HSE), now recommend that 
where asbestos is not "Subject to frequent and 
unavoidable disturbance" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6), it 
should be left in place and maintained. (Although such 
findings as those outlined above would seem to argue 
against removal, two points need to be borne in mind: 
Firstly, asbestos in schools may well be subject to 
'frequent and unavoidable disturbance' due to the 
natural exuberance of the young. And secondly, while 
those attending the school at the time of the removal 
may well suffer a relatively high dust exposure, 
subsequent generations will experience little or no 
exposure due to the eradication of the material from the 
premises). 
Such considerations, however, have had little effect on 
the rehabilitation of asbestos - even in situations 
where the material might be subject to serious wear and 
tear. In the United States, for example, various state 
legislatures have passed laws requiring that, unless 
absolutely necessary, asbestos building components 
should be left in place. The Michigan Asbestos 
Management Act, for example, stipulates that; 
Schools and state-owned or operated buildings 
now may only remove asbestos if 1) removal is 
less costly than in-place management, 2) 
removal is incidental to normal maintenance or 
repair, 3) the level of asbestos fibres in 
building air exceeds 0.01 fibres per cubic 
centimetre of air, 4) break-up of asbestos 
during renovation or demolition requires 
removal, or 5) removal is required because the 
asbestos is significantly damaged ('Michigan 
Establishes Procedures for Managing Asbestos 
in Schools and State Government Buildings', 
ARCA News, October, 1993, p. 2). 
295 
Therefore, in the States, the presumption is that 
asbestos should be left in place. 
While there has been much debate about the hazards posed 
by white asbestos, there has (apparently) been little 
argument over the undesirable effects of blue and brown 
asbestos. Both crocidolite and amosite have been assumed 
for some years to pose an urgent threat to health. Both 
have been heavily implicated in the aetiology of 
mesothelioma. However, there is some evidence to suggest 
that blue and brown asbestos are far from the major 
killers of popular belief, and that other substances may 
be causing many of the illnesses attributed to them: 
In one study, erionite particles. . . 
induced 27 
mesotheliomas in 28 laboratory rats; all the 
other asbestos varieties combined induced only 
11 mesotheliomas in 668 rats (Wagner 1985) 
(Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, p. 197). 
The capacity of erionite (a fibrous material used in 
building materials in countries like Turkey, where it is 
suspected to have contributed to or caused at least one 
mesothelioma 'cluster') to induce mesothelioma 
introduces a further confounding variable into the 
debate over the aetiology of mesothelioma; namely that 
Any fibre of appropriate geometry may be capable of 
causing mesothelioma. As Cape's ex-medical advisor has 
put it, "There is no magic in the word asbestos. . . any 
fibre of the right dimensions which is sufficiently 
durable and is inhaled in sufficient dose, may cause the 
diseases associated with asbestos" (Browne, K., Op Cit, 
p. 6). There is a suspicion, for example, that glass wool 
296 
(fibre glass), if inhaled in sufficient quantity, can 
cause lung cancer. In 1995 this suspicion prompted the 
HSE to fund a three year research project "To develop 
new ways of measuring the effects of non-asbestos fibres 
on the lungs" (The Academy: Journal of the Thermal 
Insulation Contractors' Association (TICA), October 
1995, p. 4) . The Doctor in charge of the research, 
however, was confident that casual users of the mineral 
were not at serious risk: 
It's not a hazard to people in their home. If 
you just unroll the stuff to insulate your 
loft, it may irritate your skin and eyes, but 
that's all (Ibid). 
However, in the October, 1994 issue of The American 
Journal of Industrial Medicine, it was announced that 
"Fibrous glass materials are carcinogenic" and that 
"Glass fibres may be... even more potent than asbestos" 
(Infante, P. F., et al, 'Fibrous Glass and Cancer', 
quoted in ARCA News, April 1995, p. 9). Furthermore, 
ceramic fibre, used for high temperature insulation, 
"Has been shown to cause tumours in animals when 
inhaled" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). 
Such concerns are not new, as may be judged from the 
following 1984 commentary from the National Association 
of Local Government Officers: 
Many of the common substitutes are synthetic 
mineral fibres such as glass and rock fibre, 
rock and slag wool and calcium silicate. It 
has been known for some time that exposure to 
such fibres can cause dermatitis and eye 
irritation. But questions are now being raised 
about respiratory problems and a link with 
cancer. This has led the GMBTU to lay down 
297 
strict rules for any members working with 
these fibres ('NALGO [Unison] Health and 
Safety Briefing', No. 4, March, 1984, p. 11). 
Therefore, what is becoming clear, say the optimists, is 
that we would be ill-advised to adopt asbestos 
substitutes too quickly; firstly, because such 'safe 
substitutes' may themselves be carcinogenic; and 
secondly, because evidence is being produced to 
contradict the accepted wisdom that asbestos is always 
lethal. In light of such developments, they say, "Any 
new fibre must be regarded as hazardous until shown to 
be safe" (Browne, K., Op Cit, p. 6). 
The rehabilitation of asbestos is based not only on a 
re-evaluation of its 'inherent' carcinogenic properties, 
but also on a critique of exposure standards, which, say 
the mineral's defenders, may have been needlessly 
conservative. Because little or no data exist for non- 
workplace exposure to asbestos, those regulatory 
agencies that have set general environmental standards 
for asbestos dust exposure have simply extrapolated 
workplace data to the general population using a linear 
dose-response model. This model, although the most 
protective of public health, is also the most 
conservative, and may well over-estimate the risk to the 
public (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, p. 199). 
Thus, say the optimists, whenever the 'issue' of 
asbestos is discussed, the temptation is always to err 
on the side of caution, and set the most conservative 
standard possible. After all, they say, who wants to be 
seen to be taking a gamble with the health of the public 
298 
- and more specifically, with the health of vulnerable 
(and newsworthy) groups like hospital patients and 
schoolchildren? Such concerns are manifest, say the 
optimists, in Nicholson's 1985, EPA-sponsored, 'ultra- 
conservative, assessment of asbestos in schools, where 
he assumed, firstly, that children attend school 365 
whole-days a year, and secondly, that they would be 
exposed only to the most dangerous asbestos types - 
crocidolite and amosite. In reality, say Nicholson's 
critics, not only is the majority of asbestos exposure 
in schools to chrysotile asbestos - the 'least 
dangerous' form of the mineral - but children attend 
school for only 150 quarter-days a year (allowing for 
the actual length of the school day (barely six hours) 
and holidays). Consequently, say his detractors, the 
Nicholson/EPA standards over-estimate school exposure by 
a factor of 10 (Foster, K. R., et al, Op Cit, p. 203). 
In commercial contexts, risks and hazards may be 
exaggerated (or played down) to secure some financial 
advantage. (As Beck reminds us, 'Hazards are defined and 
evaluated socially'). In the case of asbestos, for 
example, there is a suspicion that those who manufacture 
asbestos substitutes go out of their way to discredit 
the mineral, either by sponsoring critical research or 
by urging restrictive legislation: 
Anxieties over asbestos are exploited by the 
removal contractors and manufacturers of 
substitutes. Within the EC, Germany, always 
quick to exploit safety fears to secure a 
commercial advantage, has initiated a move to 
change the present regulations permitting the 
controlled use of chrysotile to a ban with 
exemptions. And in the horse-trading involved 
299 
behind the EEC facade there is a possibility 
that the move will succeed (Browne, K., Op 
Cit, p. 6). 
In the context of such efforts to discredit asbestos and 
promote 'safe' substitutes, the rehabilitators warn that 
"There is no substitute for chrysotile asbestos that, if 
properly applied, is known to be as safe" (Foster, K. R., 
et al, Op Cit, p. 206). The rehabilitators' case has been 
strengthened by recent suspicions that airborne fibres 
other than those produced by asbestos may cause 
mesothelioma, and by a suggestion that the disease may 
be caused by a virus, acting either as a carcinogen in 
its own right, or as a co-carcinogen with asbestos: 
A report in the May 21,1994 issue of The New 
Scientist presents findings from research 
undertaken in the USA and Italy which suggests 
that a link may exist between an unknown virus 
and mesothelioma. Although the virus remains 
unidentified, there is speculation that it may 
be SV40, a monkey virus which contaminated 
supplies of polio vaccine between 1954 - 1963. 
Scientists speculate that the 'SV40-like virus 
may act independently or as a co-carcinogen 
with asbestos' ('Virus Linked to 
Mesothelioma', ARCA News, July 1994, p. 7). 
These and other uncertainties over the aetiology of 
mesothelioma have served to cast doubt on the view that 
white asbestos should suffer the same regulatory fate as 
blue and brown asbestos, which have been banned in the 
UK, and which are tightly controlled on the continent. 
It should also be noted that some now believe that blue 
and brown asbestos are themselves only dangerous if 
ingested in large quantities. As Foster, Bernstein and 
Huber explain, it is the "General belief of scientists 
that low-level exposure to fibres longer than 5 microns 
300 
leads to negligible risk of mesothelioma or lung cancer" 
(Op Cit, p. 199) . This implies that blue and brown 
asbestos fibres, which are often longer than 5 microns, 
are only a threat to health if inhaled in large 
quantities (that is, if a sufficiently large dose is 
received during exposure). This would seem to imply that 
the periodically elevated levels of blue and brown 
asbestos recorded in the vicinity of Fulham Power 
Station would not have posed a significant threat to the 
health of the people of Sands End. As Foster, Bernstein 
and Huber put it, "Health concerns about low-level 
exposure to asbestos are... very speculative. Some 
monitoring of environmental asbestos might be 
appropriate, but drastic changes or a complete ban can 
be deferred without risk of disaster" (Foster, K. R., et 
al, Op Cit, p-205). 
4.4.3 The Pessimists. 
As far as the mineral's detractors are concerned, the 
rise in the number of mesotheliomas is directly 
attributable to the increased use of asbestos since the 
Second World War. As the cancer epidemiologist, Irving 
Selikoff, has put it: 
[T]he sudden rise in incidence [of 
mesothelioma) in the last forty years strongly 
suggests the operation of a new agent and, on 
the generality of the evidence, asbestos 
qualifies for the doubtful distinction 
(Selikoff, I. J., and Lee, D. H. K., Asbestos and 
Disease, Academic Press, USA, 1978, p. 28). 
At the time of the Fulham Power Station debate, 
301 
approximately eighty-five percent of mesotheliomas were 
thought to be directly attributable to either first or 
second-hand exposure to asbestos dust (Asbestos Killer 
Dust, Op Cit, p. 27) . In light of such statistics, 
mesothelioma earned the sobriquet the asbestos cancer'. 
The link between asbestos dust inhalation and 
mesothelioma was first suggested in the 1950s and 
confirmed in studies of asbestos workers between 1960 
and 1964 (Doyal, L., et al, Op Cit, p. 54). A common 
theme amongst the mineral's critics - and one reflected 
in early government advice on the use and management of 
asbestos - was that there is no safe level of exposure 
to asbestos dust. The following exhortations reflect the 
hard line taken by some of those with an interest in the 
issue of asbestos contamination in the 1970s and early 
1980s: 
Evaluation of all available human data 
provides no evidence for a threshold or 'safe' 
level of asbestos exposure... only a ban can 
ensure against carcinogenic.. . effects of 
asbestos (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 14). 
We must therefore assume that a single fibre 
(of asbestos) could do real damage which may 
not be seen for about 20 years or more ('NALGO 
[Unison] Magsheet', Op Cit, p. 5). 
We are really past the point of medical doubts 
of the need to reduce asbestos levels as low 
as possible (Ibid, p. 2). 
Many trades unions expressed views similar to those 
given above, the General, Municipal, Boilermakers and 
Allied Trades Union (GMB or GMBATU), for example, 
summarising the Asbestos Advisory Committee's 1979 
302 
finding that 'We have failed to identify a threshold 
below which there is no evidence of adverse effects' in 
the stark assertion; "There is no safe limit" ('Asbestos 
in the Community', General, Municipal, Boilermakers and 
Allied Trades Union). 
In July 1982 (just after the debate over Fulham Power 
Station began) the issue of asbestos-induced 
mesotheliomas hit the national headlines when Yorkshire 
TV broadcast the programme 'Alice -A Fight For Life'. 
The two hour documentary, which took twenty four months 
to research and make, suggested that "Mrs Alice 
Jefferson, 47, of West Yorkshire... had lung cancer 
[actually mesothelioma] because she worked for nine 
months in an asbestos factory when she was 17". The 
General and Municipal Workers Union (GMWU) suggested 
that a Parliamentary Select Committee be set up to 
investigate the "asbestos tragedy". The Union also noted 
that "More lives are lost each year from asbestos 
effects than during the Falklands conflict" (Becket, M., 
'TV Asbestos Film Wipes Millions Off Shares', The Daily 
Telegraph, July 22,1982). The documentary caused walk 
outs both in asbestos factories and at workplaces where 
asbestos had been used in buildings. Both Yorkshire TV 
and the Asbestos Information Centre (an asbestos 
industry-funded body) "Were inundated with calls from 
anxious people" (Wainwright, B., 'Furious Walkouts Over 
Asbestosis', The Morning Star, July 22,1982). The story 
ran in the national press for some considerable time, 
with recrimination piled on recrimination. 
Gradually, however, the furore over 'Alice' died away. 
303 
So much so, that by the 1990s the UK authorities were 
able to adopt a more conciliatory stance on asbestos 
exposure. (This may have reflected the maturation of 
'Thatcherism', with its emphasis on self reliance, self 
regulation and the development of health and safety 
policy according to the principle of 'reasonable 
practicability' - the most obvious manifestation of 
which being the principle that health and safety 
measures should not entail excessive cost (The Health 
and Safety System in Great Britain, HMSO, Britain, 1992, 
p. 2)). Thus the HSE guidance note Asbestos and You, 
published in April, 1994, was determinedly ambivalent: 
Asbestos.. . can sometimes cause 
fatal 
diseases... 
Asbestos diseases usually occur only as 
a result of prolonged exposure to asbestos 
dust at levels well above those now found in 
British industry. An isolated accidental 
exposure to asbestos dust of short duration is 
therefore unlikely to result in the 
development of an asbestos-related disease 
('Asbestos and You', Health and Safety 
Executive, 1994, p. 2/3). 
It should be remembered, however, that the consensus in 
the early 1980s was very much that even the briefest 
exposure to asbestos dust could cause cancer. Alice 
Jefferson's case was far from a one off. Numerous 
mesothelioma deaths were attributed to exposures so 
brief as to be almost forgotten by the victims and their 
families. Thus, one man died from mesothelioma after 
working with asbestos for no longer than a month during 
his retirement - as far as he knew his only lifetime 
exposure to the material (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, 
p. 32). Another man who, at the age of 35, had been 
304 
employed for nine weeks stacking asbestos, died of 
mesothelioma at 48 (Ibid, p. 11). 
Mesothelioma can also result from second-hand exposure 
to asbestos dust. The mineral's fibres are extremely 
small and fine. This makes dust suppression extremely 
difficult. Consequently, even the most rigorously 
controlled environments may leak asbestos fibres into 
the atmosphere. Additionally, asbestos fibres may be 
transported outside the workplace on clothing, on the 
skin or in the hair. The mobility of asbestos fibres has 
caused the mineral to be implicated in mesothelioma 
deaths far removed from the workplace. Thus one 
mesothelioma victim is suspected to have contracted the 
disease by living 1/2 mile from a shipyard for 30 years. 
Another is suspected to have contracted mesothelioma 
from the dust brought home on a family member's overalls 
over a period of three years (Ibid, p. 28). The 
migratability of asbestos has been recognised by 
representative bodies like the GMB: 
Many cases have occurred in friends, relatives 
or neighbours of asbestos workers, who were 
exposed to very low dust levels ('Asbestos in 
the Community', General, Municipal, 
Boilermakers and Allied Trades Union). 
For those who work in proximity to asbestos, its 
friability is alleged to lead to health problems. Even 
asbestos stabilised in wall panels, floor tiles or 
roofing sheets can give cause for concern: One person 
allegedly developed mesothelioma after working for four 
years with poultry housed in asbestos cement out- 
305 
buildings (Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 28). (It has 
been estimated that, in the case of asbestos roofing 
sheets, "Problems of erosion caused by natural and 
industrial pollution [sic] ... result in up to 30% loss of 
sheet thickness" ('Asbestos Cement Roof Cleaning and 
Surface Preparation', ARCA News, January, 1994, p. 8)). 
Schools can contain large amounts of asbestos; in wall 
panels, in laboratory fume cupboards, and in kitchens. 
In light of this, the recent death of a home economics 
teacher at a London comprehensive school was attributed 
by the investigating coroner to asbestos dust 
inhalation. The teacher had worked at the school full- 
time for eight years. The school, Plumstead Manor in 
Greenwich, was subsequently decontaminated amidst a 
welter of protest and press comment (Cooling, V., 
'Asbestos School Cancer Scare', Eltham and Greenwich 
Times, October 7,1993). 
Such cases reinforce the view that levels of asbestos 
dust in buildings with asbestos components are often 
higher than ambient levels. Even where asbestos is 
locked into a product, problems may result from normal 
wear and tear and/or accident, as illustrated in the 
following case: 
Measurements in the offices of an engineering 
company in Paris that contained asbestos 
reinforced vinyl flooring under normal 'wear 
and tear' conditions showed white asbestos 
levels in the air up to 50 times what they 
were in the air outside the building. As a 
result of these measurements the company 
intended to cover the asbestos floor with 
another flooring material ('NALGO (Unison] 
Health and Safety Briefing', No. 4, March, 
1984, p. 5). 
306 
Even where asbestos components are safe from accidental 
damage and are treated with sealant, no allowance can be 
made for catastrophe; As in Salford in October, 1982, 
where "An explosion in a warehouse which had an asbestos 
roof resulted in asbestos debris covering the 
surrounding area" (Ibid). 
A characteristic of the argument made against asbestos 
is that little distinction is made between blue, brown 
and white asbestos in terms of hazard. That is, all 
three forms of the mineral are deemed to pose roughly 
the same risk to human health. This view is most 
strongly held and promoted by the trades unions. As the 
GMB puts it in one of its health information leaflets, 
"There are three main types of asbestos.. . ALL TYPES CAN 
CAUSE CANCER" ('Asbestos in the Community', Op Cit). The 
public sector union Unison is equally adamant: 
Is white asbestos safe? NO. Blue, brown and 
white asbestos can each cause asbestosis, lung 
cancer and mesothelioma, but blue and brown 
seem to cause more MESOTHELIOMA in workers 
exposed to the dust than white does. This has 
led to the dangerous myth that white is 
'safe'. The most common asbestos disease 
amongst asbestos workers is lung cancer. ALL 
THREE TYPES OF ASBESTOS ARE DANGEROUS ('NALGO 
[Unison] Health and Safety Briefing', Op Cit, 
p. 3). 
In a veiled criticism of the HSE's current position that 
white asbestos poses less of a health risk than blue or 
brown asbestos, Unison points out that "Other countries 
including the USA, Germany, France and Italy do not 
distinguish between different types of asbestos, 
considering them equally dangerous to health" (Ibid). 
307 
(To be fair to the British authorities, however, it 
should be pointed out that while some blue and brown 
asbestos is still used on the continent, the UK's 
Asbestos (Prohibitions) Regulations of 1985 forbid the 
importation of both blue and brown asbestos and of any 
product that might contain them). 
Another feature of the trade unions' argument is that 
asbestos should be removed from the work and home 
environment as quickly as possible. The National Union 
of Teachers (NUT) is particularly adamant on this point: 
In the Union's view only the complete removal 
of all asbestos-containing substances will 
ensure health and safety in schools ('Health 
and Safety in Schools. No. 4: Asbestos', 
National Union of Teachers, 1989). 
In the early 1980s such doctrinaire attitudes caused 
some concern amongst those responsible for school 
budgets. The Inner London Education Authority (ILEA), 
for example, in light of "300 cases in which teachers, 
parents or governors had demanded that asbestos be 
removed from school buildings", estimated that it would 
cost £50 million to neutralise the hazard. According to 
the Chairperson of ILEA's Development Committee, this 
would be "An enormous drain on our expenditure" (£50 
million was an enormous sum ten years ago) ('NALGO 
[Unison] Magsheet', No. 20, February 1984, p. 5). As a 
consequence of such financial concerns, the Department 
of Education and Science (DES), whilst recognising the 
hazard posed by asbestos and the legitimate concerns of 
parents, teachers and governors, urged local education 
authorities to show prudence and restraint in dealing 
308 
with the problem. Thus in 1986, the DES, while 
recognising that "It is for the authority or other 
responsible body to organise a suitable strategy for 
identifying, assessing and dealing with the problem", 
advised that this should be done "Within the total 
resources, capital and current, available to them" 
('Asbestos in Schools', Professional Association of 
Teachers, p. 5). Such language is evocative of the Health 
and Safety Executive's maxim that measures to deal with 
industrial hazard should at all times be 'reasonably 
practicable'. Or, to put it another way, such measures 
should use the 'best available technology not entailing 
excessive cost' (BATNEEC) (The Health and Safety System 
in Great Britain, Op Cit). 
Despite calls for moderation, however, some public 
authorities launched ambitious programmes of asbestos 
eradication. To this end, the London Borough of Lambeth 
established an Asbestos Register to document the 
location and condition of all the asbestos under its 
jurisdiction, with a view to its eventual removal from 
all council premises. Lambeth also organised an Asbestos 
Conference in 1982. 
Interestingly, not all representative organisations have 
been as dogmatic as, say, the NUT on the matter of 
asbestos removal. Unison, for example, while subscribing 
to the view that all forms of asbestos are equally 
dangerous and that there is no 'safe level' of asbestos 
exposure, nevertheless recognises the argument that, due 
to budget limitations, employers may have no option but 
309 
to deal with the hazard in situ ('NALGO [Unison] Health 
and Safety Briefing', Op Cit, p. 8). 
However, despite its conciliatory line on asbestos 
removal, Unison is as convinced as any other union of 
the general environmental threat posed by the mineral. 
As its advice to members puts it, "Many people have died 
through living within miles of an asbestos works or in 
asbestos-clad housing" (Ibid, p. 3) . UNISON 
is also 
convinced that even the smallest amounts of asbestos 
dust can cause health problems: 
[M]any people have died from asbestos diseases 
after a minimal exposure to asbestos dust 
(Ibid). 
This position is recognised - albeit tacitly - in the 
HSE's recommendation that employers should not treat 
statutory control limits as necessarily acceptable 
levels, and should strive to reduce the amount of 
airborne asbestos to the lowest reasonably practicable 
level. Thus under the Control of Asbestos at Work 
Regulations, 1987, and the Control of Asbestos at Work 
(Amendment) Regulations, 1992, employers are required to 
"Take steps to prevent... exposure or reduce it to the 
lowest level reasonably practicable" ('Asbestos and 
you,, Op Cit, p. 2/3). Interestingly, HSE guidance on the 
Regulations also hints that processors or end-users of 
asbestos should be mindful of its possible effect on the 
health of the general public: 
Employers have an obligation to protect their 
employees; this is extended by the Asbestos 
Regulations to anyone else who may be 
affected... e. g. factory visitors, and people 
310 
living in the neighbourhood. The regulations 
also impose a duty on the employer to prevent 
or reduce, to the lowest level reasonably 
practicable, the spread of asbestos dust from 
the area where asbestos work is carried 
out. [My emphasis] ('Asbestos and You,, Op Cit, 
p. 2/3) 
The exhortation that users of asbestos should take steps 
to protect those living close by had not been made prior 
to the Fulham Power Station debate. In the early 1980s, 
the HSE's (official) interest ended at the works or site 
perimiter. Clearly, the 1987 Act facilitated a more 
holistic view of the potential problem of asbestos 
contamination. 
Finally, it would appear that even the asbestos industry 
itself has begun to recognise - albeit implicitly - the 
effect its raw material may have had on public health. 
Thus in 1993, Cape Plc, manufacturers of asbestos 
products, paid a 42 year old East London mesothelioma 
victim who had lived close to, but never worked at, 
their Barking factory, £45,000 in an out of court 
settlement. Perhaps predictably, the payment was made 
without acceptance of liability ('Award for Asbestos 
Victim', ARCA News, October, 1993, p. 8). In the same 
year, the maximum award payable under the relevant 
legislation, the 1979 Pneumoconiosis (Workers 
Compensation) Act, was increased to £49,000 ('Up to 
£49,000 for Dust Victims', ARCA News, October, 1993, 
P. 8). 
In conclusion, the 'anti' lobby are convinced that there 
is a direct link between exposure to asbestos dust, 
whether from blue, brown or white asbestos, and 
311 
mesothelioma. Furthermore, they are sure that, through 
sleight of hand, the real magnitude of the problem has 
been deliberately concealed from the general public: In 
1972, for example, a reputable medical journal found 
only one attributable death among 802 deaths looked into 
at several US asbestos cement factories. A follow-up 
study, however, found 72 cases of asbestos-related 
mesothelioma at just one of the investigated sites 
(Asbestos Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 30). 
UK figures for asbestos-related mesotheliomas appear 
equally confused: Between 1957 and 1975, there were 
1,952 officially recorded mesothelioma deaths - an 
average of around 110 per annum (Doyal, L., et al, Op 
Cit, p. 52). Of this number, assuming 85% of mesothelioma 
deaths to be attributable to asbestos dust exposure, 93 
would have been caused by asbestos. Today, however, 
Professor Julian Peto estimates that the UK has around 
1,000 mesothelioma deaths per annum (Peto, J., Op Cit), 
of which some 850 would be attributable to asbestos dust 
inhalation (based on the conservative assumption that 
85% are asbestos-related). This dramatic increase in the 
number of mesotheliomas may be due to a number of 
factors. It may be, for example, that high dust 
exposures experienced by workers in the 1950s and 1960s 
are beginning to feed through into increased rates of 
morbidity and mortality. Or it may be that in decades 
past, the medical profession under-reported the number 
of mesotheliomas by either disingenuously attributing 
death to a related complaint, or by accidentally 
misdiagnosing the condition. As the BSSRS points out, 
312 
"Typical asbestos deaths [have been] recorded as: 
'exhaustion', and 'cancer of the pancreas"' (Asbestos 
Killer Dust, Op Cit, p. 30). More recently, the SV40 
virus has been associated with the dramatic increase in 
mesothelioma deaths (see above) . SV40, a monkey virus, 
has been transmitted to humans in contaminated polio 
vaccines. It is estimated that in the United States 
alone, between ten and thirty million children and 
adults have been infected (Brown, P., 'Mystery Virus 
Linked to Asbestos Cancer', New Scientist, May 21,1994, 
p. 4). It would appear, however, that scientists do not 
(as yet) believe SV40 to be the major cause of the 
mesothelioma epidemic: 
Whether or not SV40 or its human relative is 
guilty of triggering mesothelioma, its effect 
is in any case dwarfed by the major villain, - 
asbestos... 
Mesothelioma is now epidemic among men 
who worked in the construction industry... 
Men are six times more likely to be 
affected than women, suggesting the main risk 
is occupational. If the virus played a major 
part in the disease, this imbalance would 
probably be less pronounced [My emphasis] 
(Brown, P., Op Cit, p. 4). 
However, whatever the aetiology of mesothelioma, it is 
clear from the attitude of regulatory agencies like the 
HSE, and from recent court judgements, that in some 
quarters the issue of asbestos contamination is taken 
more seriously today than in the past. In a recent 
decision, for example, a court fined Rolls Royce Nuclear 
Engineering £15,000 -a large penalty in this context - 
for contaminating the environment around their 
Wolverhampton factory with brown asbestos. Rolls Royce 
313 
allowed the asbestos, which had been stripped out by 
unlicensed contractors, to be transported forty miles in 
an open skip to a disposal site. This is said to have 
caused "widespread contamination" ('Rolls-Royce Asbestos 
Fine', Red Pepper, March, 1995, p. 9). For their part, 
the HSE, who brought the prosecution, welcomed the stiff 
penalty: 
Malcolm Wright of the HSE welcomed the size of 
the fine. "This shows that courts are taking 
the issue of asbestos seriously", he said 
(Ibid). 
On the negative side, however - as the Rolls Royce case 
demonstrates - it is still possible for 'cowboy' 
contractors to be hired (by reputable companies) to 
remove asbestos. So, despite all the legislation and 
well intentioned directives from the HSE, has anything 
really changed since the argument over the 
decontamination of Fulham Power Station? The following 
case would seem to suggest that there are still large 
holes in the asbestos regulations: 
A 65-year-old site owner was fined £8,000 at 
Wolverhampton Magistrates Court after he shot- 
blasted asbestos fibres into the air at an 
empty factory in Bilston. 
A specialist firm had quoted the man 
more than £23,000 to remove 14 tonnes of 
asbestos cement sheets... He could not afford 
their price. Instead, he paid £200 for someone 
from Telford who did not have a licence to 
remove the sheets. A lot of it ended up for 
sale (ARCA News, April 1995, p. 11). 
5 Conclusion. 
As can be seen from the arguments presented in this 
chapter, the debate over the role of asbestos in the 
314 
aetiology of cancer is far from resolved. Taking an 
'optimistic' line, it is quite possible to construct 
asbestos as posing no more than a minimum and incidental 
risk to health. Thus, if lifestyle factors are a more 
important cause of cancer than environmental factors, 
and if white asbestos is relatively harmless in the sort 
of quantities found in the general environment, why 
worry? There is even evidence to suggest that the 
demonised and banned blue and brown varieties of the 
mineral are relatively harmless. And what about the co- 
carcinogenic (or carcinogenic) properties of viruses 
like SV40? In light of such new evidence, surely the 
case against the 'wonder mineral' has been unfairly 
exaggerated? While cancer may well be on the increase, 
there is, say the optimists, reason to assume that 
asbestos plays no more than a minor role in the disease. 
On this reckoning, public health can best be protected 
by concentrating on the real killers, like smoking, 
stress, diet, viruses and inherited characteristics. 
Given the above, it can be seen that at the time of the 
Fulham Power Station debate, the possibility existed of 
constructing the fugitive emissions of asbestos as 
posing little or no threat to public health. This 
construction was available both to the authorities and 
contractors, and to the general public. 
Of course, the possibility also existed of constructing 
the emissions as presenting a very real, long term 
threat to the health of the community: specifically, as 
the cause of future mesotheliomas. 
315 
Given the potential ambiguity of the situation, it is 
important to remember that such events are evaluated not 
in an ideological vacuum, but in value-laden social, 
economic and political contexts. Risks and hazards, in 
other words, are not givens. They are social constructs. 
In light of this fact, it is important to note the 
context of the sale, decontamination and demolition of 
Fulham Power Station in 1983/1984. Thus the social 
milieu of the day juxtaposed a potential environmental 
threat to health - airborne asbestos liberated from the 
power station - with familiar social and economic 
hazards, like unemployment, underemployment and sub- 
standard housing (see Chapters 3 and 4). Given this 
complex soup of disparate risks and hazards, one should 
guard against the easy assumption that the release of 
even large quantities of the most deadly varieties of 
asbestos into the community would cause panic, or even 
mild concern. 
Ulrich Beck observes that "Hazards. . . are defined and 
evaluated socially - in the mass media, in the experts' 
debate, in the jungle of interpretations and 
jurisdictions. .. 
in a milieu and in contexts... (Beck, U., 
'From Industrial Society to the Risk Society: Questions 
of Survival, Social Structure and Ecological 
Enlightenment', Op Cit, p. 112). Although Beck's insight 
concerns the construction and evaluation of risks and 
hazards in formal institutional settings, it is 
important to remember that their construction and 
evaluation by the general public can have a major 
bearing on the nature, extent and outcome of a risk 
316 
debate. 
317 
Chapter 6 
Fulham Power Station: Decontamination and 
Demolition. 
1 Introduction. 
This section deals mainly with the 'facts' of the 
decontamination and demolition as reported in the local 
and national press (although other contemporaneous 
events relevant to the general debate over asbestos are 
also recounted). There is no attempt to recount the 
construction of events offered by the power station 
activists. This is covered in the next chapter. 
It should be noted that the majority of political 
agitation over the power station issue was organised by 
TERROR. During the campaign the group organised itself 
around a three-strong core. These 'core activists' were 
all young women with families. 
2 Chronolomr. 
2.1 The Decontamination and Demolition of Fulham Power 
Station. 
The local authority became aware of the sale of Fulham 
Power Station to London and York Property Investment 
Company Ltd. when the MP for Fulham, Mr. Martin Stevens, 
telephoned the authority's Director of Environmental 
Services, Mr. Bruce Cova. The public became aware of the 
sale when a 24-line article appeared in The Times on May 
3rd, 1983. The story was picked up by the West London 
observer on May 5th. The Times reported that "Great care 
318 
is to be taken in demolishing the power station... " (The 
Times, May 3,1983). Despite the difficult nature of the 
project, the CEGB received no fewer than 271 offers for 
the redundant power station. It was eventually sold for 
just under £1.6 million ('London warning on Blue 
Asbestos', Construction News, July 7,1983). 
For its part, London and York, a "Small-time London 
property [company] mortgaged to the hilt" (Wallace, M., 
and Raw, C., 'Scandal Of The Poison Power Stations', The 
Sunday Times, June 26,1983), had bought a huge edifice 
located in the midst of "The tight-knit Sands End 
community" (Cova, B., 'Asbestos - The Experience of 
Fulham Power Station', The Municipal Journal, September 
2,1983). The power station - some 318ft. high and 
containing over 9 million bricks - contained not only 
valuable ferrous metals, but also large quantities of 
blue and brown asbestos - in places nine inches thick. 
As one Fulham lagger put it; "Blue on the flues and 
girders, brown everywhere else" (Weeden, C., 'The Boys 
from the Blue Dust', City Limits, November 18-24,1983). 
Within a week of the announcement of the sale, TERROR 
began voicing its concerns over the demolition of the 
power station. As one protest group member explained, 
"The group is worried about the health hazards 
surrounding the demolition - particularly the huge 
amount of. . . asbestos in the building" ('Families Fight 
Bulldozing Of Power Station', West London Observer, May 
12,1983). 
After representations by TERROR to both the Greater 
319 
London Council (GLC) and the local authority, the Health 
and Safety Executive (HSE), the government agency 
responsible for ensuring the safe removal of asbestos, 
agreed to call a public meeting. The meeting, held at 
Townmead Youth Club opposite the power station, was 
addressed by TERROR, London and York, the local 
authority, the GLC, the Asbestos Removal Contractors' 
Association (ARCA) and the HSE. Some 150 residents 
turned up. The meeting was stormy: London and York's 
four-man team, which had originally "Oozed reassurance" 
(Wallace, M., and Raw, C., Op Cit), walked out after two 
hours saying they could not be heard. Afterwards, 
Anthony Marriott, one of the Directors of London and 
York (and a solicitor by profession), passed the 
following judgement: 
We tried to give them our reassurances but 
they were not accepted... We maintain we have 
the interests of the local residents at heart 
and we will continue to do so, even though at 
times the atmosphere of the meeting was not 
always pleasant ('Owners Walk Out Of Public 
Meeting', West London Observer, June 2,1983). 
Marriott's analysis was confirmed by Bruce Cova, who 
commented that "It proved impossible to answer the 
constant barrage of questions over the incessant din". 
Cova, however, attributed a measure of the unruly 
behaviour to "The companies' refusal to comment on their 
previous experience". This reticence, according to the 
Director of Environmental Services, "Aggravated the 
position considerably [and served to] strengthen 
substantially the local movement, and generate 
considerable activity in all quarters" (Cova, B., Op 
320 
Cit) . 
The dissatisfaction of the audience was heightened by 
the perceived inadequacy of the performance of the HSE's 
representative, Daniel Mallon, who "Conceded that he did 
not know how much asbestos there was on the site, that 
he would be advised of random sampling only by the 
company, and to underline just how ineffective his 
authority was, agreed that he could only act if health 
and safety regulations were breached". The mood of the 
audience did not improve when "An officer from the GLC 
toxic disposal unit told the meeting that he had no 
power to dictate the manner in which the packaging of 
the asbestos was done, no authority to direct the route 
the trucks would take through London to the dumping 
ground, and could only act if a bag broke loose". The 
local authority also contributed to the unsatisfactory 
and unhappy outcome of the meeting; specifically when 
"The environmental health officer from Hammersmith and 
Fulham Council (told the audience he] had no statutory 
right to interfere in the demolition" ('Power Politics', 
Private Eye, June 3,1983). (This statement was, in 
fact, erroneous. The council could have acted against 
the owners of the site under the Public Health Act of 
1936 - although its powers would not have been 
particularly great). 
Before walking out, and despite the 'unruly' behaviour 
of its audience, London and York made three concessions 
to the residents. Firstly, they agreed to allow 
residents to visit the twelve and a half acre site 
321 
during asbestos removal and general demolition work. 
Secondly, they offered the residents £1,000 towards the 
cost of hiring independent experts on asbestos removal. 
(In the event, local residents never received any money 
from London and York for this purpose ('Power Politics 
(3)', Private Eye, July 18,1983)). And thirdly, they 
agreed to the request that residents should be allowed 
to examine the 'revolutionary' new vacuum extraction and 
bagging system for asbestos dust and fragments. (The 
residents never saw the much vaunted vacuum system). 
London and York's demolition company, Barlborough Metals 
Ltd., also tried hard to reassure the public of its good 
intentions. To this end, a consultant to Barlborough, 
Mr. Donald Crawley (who was also a director of London 
and York), was pictured at the power station site 
holding a large fragment of asbestos (John, D., 'Scheme 
To Level A Landmark', West London Observer, May 26, 
1983). Crawley was also reported as saying that "Nobody 
has more experience than us in the country [at removing 
asbestos]", and that the amount of asbestos in the power 
station was "Noticeable by its absence" (John, D., 
'Alert Over Killer Dust', West London Observer, May 19, 
1983). (Quite how he reconciled this assessment with the 
fact that he had appeared in several local papers 
handling asbestos at the power station is something of a 
mystery). Later, despite their 'experience, Barlborough 
forgot to notify the HSE before commencing work on May 
16th, 1983 (Weeden, C., Op Cit) . This did not impress 
the Executive or the public. 
Later in the month, different accounts of the magnitude 
322 
of the potential asbestos hazard at the power station 
began to emerge. There was Barlborough's account, for 
example. This put the amount of asbestos to be removed 
at a low 300 tons (John, D., 'Scheme To Level A 
Landmark', Op Cit). Other estimates put the amount of 
asbestos at up to 3,000 tons (John, D., 'Alert Over 
Killer Dust', Op Cit). The CEGB, for its part, was 
"Unable to confirm any figure" - even though it had 
owned the station since the 1940s and possessed detailed 
plans of the equipment and layout (Ibid). Later, the 
company brought in to remove the material, UK Asbestos 
Plant and Machinery Ltd., estimated the amount of 
asbestos at 500 tons ('Owners Walk Out Of Public 
Meeting', West London Observer, June 2,1983). 
The use of a specialist asbestos removal contractor 
added a confusing twist to the saga. Originally, 
Barlborough had presented itself as the firm responsible 
for all stages of decommissioning and demolition, 
including the highly skilled task of asbestos removal. 
As Crawley of Barlborough Metals had put it on one 
occasion: 
I've been dealing with the removal of asbestos 
for donkey's years. We are an experienced firm 
and the residents' fears are totally unfounded 
and unjustified (Bresler, K., 'I Know This 
Business, Says Demolition Don: Asbestos Fear 
Quelled By Blasts Expert', Fulham Chronicle, 
May 20,1983). 
It was subsequently asserted, however, that Don 
Crawley's expertise lay not in asbestos stripping, but 
in the speedy and profitable removal of scrap metal. As 
323 
one journalist put it at the time: 
Crawley is renowned for cable stripping and 
smelting, to get at the lead and the copper. 
He has a mobile chine furnace for the task of 
smelting, which he operates around London and 
the south east (Weeden, C., Op Cit). 
Later the public was surprised to learn - in light of 
Crawley's glowing appraisal of his own company's 
expertise in asbestos removal - that a 'specialist' 
contractor, UK Asbestos, was to be engaged to remove the 
material. The public's anxiety was heightened when the 
company refused to reveal details of its novel vacuum 
device for removing and bagging the asbestos. The 
company's explanation was that if the device was seen by 
other contractors, it would be copied, thereby denying 
UK Asbestos a competitive edge. It was rumoured in the 
press, however, that the company's reticence over the 
vacuum device was due not to concerns over industrial 
espionage, but to its failure in tests to deal 
adequately with the sort of heavy duty stripping that 
would be required at Fulham Power Station. Thus, when 
the prototype was tested at a gas works in Birmingham 
"It failed: there was not enough power to carry the 
asbestos away". Thus the "Rather special equipment" 
which UK Asbestos had developed "Under the auspices of 
the Health and Safety Executive" (Wallace, M., and Raw, 
C., Op Cit) appeared to be something of a flop. (The 
asbestos stripping machine was, in fact, revealed at a 
UK Asbestos public relations seminar on October 26, 
1983, at the Post House Hotel in Wakefield. Although no 
one from Sands End was invited, the community was 
324 
featured (without its knowledge) in a promotional video 
shown by the seminar's sponsors, Yorkshire Productivity 
Ltd. (Weeden, C., Op Cit). Worries about UK Asbestos 
were heightened when it was revealed that the company 
had been formed only 12 . weeks prior 
to the purchase of 
the power station ('Under The Hammer: A Dusty Business', 
City Limits, July 1-7,1983), and was of "Uncertain 
financial standing" (Wallace, M., and Raw, C., Op Cit). 
The public's concern over UK Asbestos was symptomatic of 
a more general unease over the track record of the 
various other participants in the decontamination and 
demolition of the power station. Don Crawley, for 
example, who was both a London and York director and a 
consultant to Barlborough Metals, had been prosecuted by 
the HSE in the late 1970s when, as the owner of a 
company called Davidol, "He was caught red-handed piling 
tar-papered cable on a bonfire of oil-soaked wooden 
pallets, polluting the atmosphere" (Weeden, C., Op Cit). 
The habits and associations of Kenneth Hunt, who, like 
Crawley, was involved with both London and York and 
Barlborough, also worried the Sands End public. As the 
owner of a country mansion called Park Hall near 
Sheffield, Kenneth Hunt had enjoyed at least a passing 
acquaintance with Leslie Vickers, a tenant of Park Hall. 
Leslie Vickers owned the shipbreaking firm H. Kitson 
Vickers, which had been implicated in the 
'irresponsible' breaking of the aircraft carrier Ark 
Royal at the Cairn Ryan yard near Stranraer, on the west 
coast of Scotland, in the early 1980s. (It is worth 
noting that in one uncorroborated report it was stated 
325 
that Kenneth Hunt himself had purchased the carrier 
('Under The Hammer: A Dusty Business', Op Cit)). In 
truth, no-one ever satisfactorily explained the 
relationship between Hunt and Vickers, although City 
Limits went so far as to describe the two as "Friends 
and business associates" ('Breaking Up is Hard to Do', 
City Limits, November 11-17,1983). There were 
approximately 2,000 tons of valuable non-ferrous metal 
left in the carrier, a huge prize for the breakers, who 
went after the spoil with reckless enthusiasm; 
Kitson Vickers set about the task with a 
vengeance. Instead of using the standard 
shipbreaking technique of removing a deck at a 
time, its men cut straight down through six 
decks to the engine rooms, where most of the 
non-ferrous metal lay. To do so, they burned 
through what a marine surveyor described as "a 
snake's honeymoon" of asbestos-coated pipes 
(Wallace, M., 'A Floating Bomb Of Half-Full 
Fuel Tanks And Blue Asbestos', The Sunday 
Times, July 17,1983). 
The shambolic breaking of the ship caused a major health 
hazard, with blue asbestos being strewn across the yard. 
As a result, in September, 1981, the Factory 
Inspectorate issued a prohibition notice. This was 
ignored. Eventually, H. Kitson Vickers sold on the 
responsibility for breaking the ship to the Northern 
Shipbreaking Company. Northern Shipbreaking were 
staggered at what they found. As a senior employee 
commented: 
It was obvious the ship was being broken in a 
very haphazard and unsafe way (Ibid). 
A marine surveyor was similarly concerned: 
326 
When I went on board and saw the way those 
cowboys had dealt with it, I was amazed 
(Ibid). 
Another salvage consultant commented: 
The ship was a'total mess. Someone had gone 
over it to remove the more valuable stuff, 
with total disregard for the long-term 
breaking of the ship (Ibid). 
The possibility and implications of an association 
between Kenneth Hunt and the man responsible for the 
debacle at Cairn Ryan would not have been lost on the 
Sands End activists. 
The reputation of UK Asbestos, already tarnished by what 
was seen as its excessive secrecy and lack of 
experience, finally disintegrated when it was revealed 
that Mr. John Pitman, the company's owner, had been 
fined £2,200 by Huddersfield Magistrates in 1982 for 
breaking the 1969 Asbestos Regulations ('Power Politics 
(2)', Private Eye, June 17,1983). Pitman's company, 
Belcox Building Ltd., had been found guilty of 
endangering the health of its own employees. As one 
journalist explained: 
[T]wo of Pitman' s employees ... were at 
considerable risk from dust and fibres from 
asbestos lagging, strewn all over the floor of 
a shed in the process of demolition (Ibid). 
The two employees had not been provided with adequate 
protection against asbestos dust. The fine of £2,200 was 
extremely high for its day - in 1981 the average fine 
under the Asbestos Regulations was £109 (Ibid). Despite 
327 
this sizeable penalty, however, Pitman continued his lax 
regime at Fulham Power Station where, despite Daniel 
Mallon's exhortation that asbestos should be carried 
from the site in double thickness bags, UK Asbestos only 
ever used single thickness bags ('Power Politics (3)', 
Op Cit) . Public unease increased when it was revealed 
that neither Barlborough nor London and York had any 
history of involvement in major redevelopment projects: 
As City Limits put it, "All were magicked like rabbits 
out of a hat". According to the records at Companies 
House, "London and York Property Investment [had] spent 
all its three year life without trading at all", while 
Barlborough Metals was created only seven weeks before 
the purchase of Fulham Power Station. In light of this 
abject lack of experience, City Limits concluded that 
"It was not the corporate reputations of civil 
engineering excellence that attracted the CEGB to these 
particular companies" ('Under The Hammer: A Dusty 
Business', Op Cit). (Confusingly, the CEGB sold Kingston 
Power Station to a subsidiary of the major and reputable 
conglomerate Trafalgar House. Whether this was 
accidental or by design - given the significant adverse 
publicity suffered by the CEGB over the sale of Fulham 
Power Station to 'magicked' companies - is an 
interesting question). 
These and other revelations led to a crisis of 
confidence in the various parties involved in the 
decontamination and demolition. The HSE responded by 
installing asbestos dust monitors at the power station 
on May 25th. The local authority installed their own 
328 
monitors (four sampling pumps supplied by the GLC's 
scientific branch) in the vicinity of the power station 
at the same time. An environmental health officer 
subsequently visited the site several times a day, 
including weekends (Wombwell, G., 'Settling The Dust' 
(Letter], The Sunday Times, July 3,1983). 
In early June, despite calls for a special council 
meeting to discuss the demolition, the Council Leader, 
Kim Howe, insisted that the work at the power station 
was 'risk free': 
We are assured that the demolition is risk 
free. We have put all the pressure we are 
capable of putting on the necessary 
authorities. There is nothing more the council 
can do ('Crisis Meeting Demanded On 
Demolition', Fulham Chronicle, June 3,1983). 
Howe later put Labour's calls for an extraordinary 
council meeting down to 'electioneering'. (Quite what 
Kim Howe meant by this is unclear, as the next local 
government election was not due to be held until mid- 
1986. The Labour request for an extraordinary council 
meeting was made in mid-1983). 
By mid-June, however, after a series of revelations 
concerning UK Asbestos, and the presentation to the 
council of a 700-signature residents' petition demanding 
a more interventionist approach by the local authority, 
Kim Howe capitulated: a special council meeting was 
called. Fifty residents attended the June 15th meeting 
at the civic centre in Hammersmith. Press reporting of 
the event was somewhat lurid - even allowing for the 
329 
tabloid style of the local papers. It also tended 
towards hyperbole; According to the Fulham Chronicle, 
for example, on the evening of the meeting; 
Worried South Fulham residents converged on 
Hammersmith Town Hall... for the special 
council meeting called to discuss the asbestos 
scare at Sands End Power Station. 
The paper went on; 
Special coaches were booked to ferry families 
to the meeting (Caffrey, N., 'Killer Dust 
Protest', The Fulham Chronicle, June 17, 
1983). 
As noted above, no more than fifty people attended the 
meeting. Also, the petition, at 700 names, was less than 
half the size of the one raised over the road widening 
scheme (see Chapter 4). Both petitions were organised by 
TERROR. 
The meeting debated a special motion put by Mr. Tony 
Powell, Labour councillor and prospective Parliamentary 
candidate. The motion read: 
That this Council note the real concern and 
anxiety of the people of Sands End Ward in 
particular, and of South Fulham in general, 
about the way in which the demolition of 
Fulham Power Station is proceeding. It calls 
on London and York Property Company Limited to 
cease demolition work until full consultation 
has been carried out with local residents. It 
requires the Health and Safety Executive to 
use all their powers to this end. It resolves 
to take all necessary steps including court 
action if necessary to ensure the safety and 
peace of mind of the residents of the Borough 
(Ibid). 
The special council meeting produced two positive 
330 
outcomes for Sands End residents. Firstly, "Councillors 
at the meeting voted unanimously to instruct the 
company... to stop work until residents and councillors 
are satisfied about safety aspects of the operation". 
And secondly, a liaison group consisting of "Local 
residents, councillors and experts" ('Asbestos Firm In 
Court Shock', West London Observer, June 23,1983) was 
set up "To open formal channels of communication with 
the residents" (Cova, B., Op Cit). 
Ironically, the very next day, contractors Drinkwater 
and Sabey were observed transporting asbestos from the 
power station site to a dump in West Drayton, 
Hillingdon, in a poorly secured skip. As a journalist 
noted at the time: 
The tarpaulin cover flaps in the breeze and 
unties as the lorry drives through the streets 
(Weeden, C., Op Cit). 
The same journalist also commented on lax on-site 
working practices: 
An asbestos stripper in his protective gear is 
seen walking from the 'dirty' into the 'clean' 
area (Ibid). 
In June the pace of the debate accelerated and its scope 
widened. TERROR, attempting to raise awareness of the 
asbestos issue, sent a letter to all families and 
schools in Sands End outlining what it saw as the 
dangers inherent in a badly executed demolition: 
Dear Parent, you may be aware that Fulham 
Power Station is being stripped of asbestos 
prior to it being demolished. Asbestos fibres 
331 
are a grave danger to health and children are 
especially susceptible to the cancers it 
causes. Therefore it is essential that it is 
stripped with great care. A number of local 
residents who have been asking for health and 
safety reassurances have become increasingly 
more concerned. Their checks into the 
companies carrying out this work have shown 
that they have all been set up for this 
venture and their directors will give no 
information about their past experience 
(Caffrey, N., Op Cit). 
In line with the motion passed at the extraordinary 
council meeting, LBH&F's Chief Executive asked the 
contractors at Fulham Power Station to stop work "Until 
local residents were satisfied that it was being carried 
out properly" ('Safety Plea Is Ignored', Fulham 
Chronicle, June 24,1983). The contractors refused. This 
left the council having to consider some form of legal 
action. In the early 1980s, this could have taken a 
number of forms; Firstly, action could have been taken 
under the Public Health Act of 1936, which allows either 
an individual or legally constituted body to obtain a 
court order "To deal with premises that are 'in such a 
state as to be injurious or a nuisance'" ('Asbestos in 
the Community', General, Municipal, Boilermakers and 
Allied Trades Union). (If the local authority refuses to 
act, the public can take action through the magistrates 
court against the errant council under Section 99 of the 
Public Health Act). Secondly, action could have been 
taken under the Health and Safety at Work Act of 1974 
which provides for the safety of both workers and the 
general public living in the immediate vicinity of a 
site. 
Despite the council's exhortations, not only did the 
332 
contractors refuse to stop work, they countered with a 
public relations offensive. John Pitman, for example, 
head of UK Asbestos, was quoted in The Sunday Times as 
saying; 
You can sit on the beach at Blackpool and you 
won't be breathing air quite as good as we've 
got inside Fulham power station (Wallace, M., 
and Raw, C., Op Cit). 
This sort of proclamation, however, served only to 
attract more attention to the debate about conditions 
inside the power station. The unions became involved, 
not least because there were reports that the demolition 
contractors were using non-unionised labour. The major 
unions cast themselves in the role of public advocate by 
insisting that, as one reporter put it, "The CEGB has 'a 
moral responsibility' to demolish and clear Britain's 40 
old and asbestos-ridden power stations... " (Charman, P., 
'More Asbestos Fears', Time Out, June 24-30,1983). At 
their meetings with the Electricity Council, the 
industry's own unions pressed the point that in their 
view the CEGB, as the power station's erstwhile owner, 
was morally bound to dispose of potentially harmful 
materials itself. That is, the unions sought to impress 
upon their own management the importance - as they saw 
it - of the 'polluter pays' principle, which dictates 
that those who pollute should 'clear up their own mess' 
(or at least pay someone else to do so). 
As the debate rolled on, attention shifted to levels of 
atmospheric asbestos contamination outside the power 
station. Three agencies were involved in monitoring 
333 
airborne asbestos in Sands End: The London School of 
Hygiene and Tropical Medicine (LSHTM), hired by UK 
Asbestos to meet its statutory reporting duties to the 
HSE, the Health and Safety Executive, and the London 
Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham (with the assistance 
of the GLC). The sampling regime exhibited a number of 
weaknesses, the most glaring of which was the fact that 
UK Asbestos began its decontamination work before 
installing its on-site dust monitors. Also, while the 
HSE required the LSHTM to monitor constantly for the 
first two weeks of decontamination work, "After this it 
reverted to occasional sampling on a random basis three 
times a week" (Cova, B., Op Cit). The HSE's sampling was 
even less rigorous, being largely ad-hoc and unplanned. 
This regime, according to Bruce Cova, was "Totally 
inadequate... for any day-to-day control purpose" (Ibid). 
In an effort to compensate for such perceived 
inefficiencies, the local authority decided to increase 
its own monitoring. As Bruce Cova explained; 
After reconsidering the council's pattern of 
sampling and the lack of constant monitoring 
by other agencies, it was decided to extend 
our sampling to cover two four-hour periods 
and so monitor the majority of the working day 
from 8am until 4pm, seven days a week. It was 
later decided to extend this until 10pm to 
allay local fears of late-night working 
(Ibid). 
A second perceived weakness concerned the time it took 
for all those involved in environmental monitoring to 
get their samples analysed. Originally, delays of up to 
two days between sampling and analysis were not uncommon 
(Wallace, M., and Raw, C., Op Cit). Given that, as Bruce 
334 
Cova put it, "The speed of laboratory response was an 
essential element of control", the local authority 
decided to press its own laboratory for a more rapid 
analysis of samples. As a result, samples taken in the 
morning were eventually being analysed by the end of the 
working day. This, according to Cova, "Placed the 
asbestos removal under a degree of scrutiny which has 
never... previously been experienced by an asbestos- 
removal contractor" (Cova, B., Op Cit). 
While none of those involved in monitoring ambient 
levels of asbestos dust ever achieved an instantaneous 
analysis of samples, the 'same day' results service 
secured by the local authority, in conjunction with its 
coverage of the whole working day, permitted a 
reasonable level of control. Given the relative 
'success' of his own regime, Bruce Cova was scathing of 
the performance of the other parties: 
I believe that the speed of analytical 
response and total cover of the working day 
are essential elements of environmental 
asbestos monitoring and the time delay and 
random methods accepted by other agencies are 
unacceptable and completely useless for 
environmental control purposes. They will only 
give an historic picture, three or four days 
after the event. The speed of decay 
experienced after an emission is such that it 
will not even show a trend let alone pick up 
an emission of short duration (Ibid). 
It should be noted, however, that the local authority's 
more rigorous approach to sampling did not extend to the 
use of electron microscopy, which, unlike conventional 
light microscopy, can detect even the smallest asbestos 
particles. As electron microscopy is more expensive than 
335 
light microscopy, it may well be that the former method 
was rejected on cost grounds. (While there is often a 
presumption in favour of electron microscopy, it should 
be remembered that some experts consider light 
microscopy to be more' than adequate to the task of 
picking up the larger particles of asbestos that are 
thought to pose the greatest risk to health - certainly 
in the aetiology of mesothelioma. As one industry 
commentator has put it: "The far greater magnification 
possible with [an electron microscope] will undoubtedly 
show up more of the smaller-sized fibres. But do such 
small fibres present a significant enough risk to health 
to justify the extra cost? According to [the] head of 
the Environment Branch of the Institute of Occupational 
Medicine, the answer to this is probably not. Tests 
indicate that the fibres picked up by the optical method 
are the ones that do the most harm" (Building, July 15, 
1983, p. 29)). 
The improved responsiveness of asbestos monitoring 
allowed the (presumed) first major environmental 
contamination incident to be effectively managed. On the 
morning of Monday, July 4th, 1983, although the monitors 
used by UK Asbestos and the HSE were not sampling, those 
used by LBH&F detected elevated levels of asbestos dust 
outside the power station: specifically, the workplace 
Threshold Limit Value (TLV) for blue asbestos (of 0.2 
fibres per millilitre of air) had been breached in the 
general atmosphere. (There were no TLVs for general, 
non-workplace exposures to asbestos dust) . The test 
results, received by the local authority in the 
336 
afternoon, prompted Bruce Cova to ask the contractors to 
stop work. This they did. The following day, Cova and 
the HSE traced the leak to unsealed air ducts deep 
inside the power station. Work re-started on July 7th 
after the ducts had been sealed (Davies, N., 'Asbestos 
Risk Halts Work On Station', The Guardian, July 6, 
1983). The press reported the incident in detail. City 
Limits, for example, highlighted the possible health 
effects of the release (in what, it must be said, was a 
somewhat hysterical fashion): 
On Monday workers and residents of Fulham were 
subjected to a massive dose of asbestos dust 
that rushed from the turbine hall along the 
cable tunnels and into the air. The 
environmental health officer immediately 
stopped all work until the holes were 
sealed... This remedial work will not help 
those already affected (Weeden, C., 'Asbestos 
- What The Eye Doesn't See', City Limits, July 
8-14,1983). 
The West London observer, one of Fulham's local papers, 
talked of "A huge release of asbestos into the 
atmosphere", as a consequence of which "Alarmed council 
officials" applied themselves vigorously to the "Major 
Scare" (John, D., 'New Alert Over Dust', West London 
Observer, July 14,1983). The Fulham Chronicle talked of 
"Monday's dramatic stop" ('Asbestos Alert', The Fulham 
Chronicle, July 15,1983) at the power station. Even The 
Guardian talked of "Dangerously high levels of asbestos 
in areas around the site" (Davies, N., Op Cit). 
It must be said, however, that the elevated levels of 
asbestos dust recorded in the general environment on 
July 4th, although a cause for concern, were far from 
337 
'catastrophic'. At the time of the July 4th 
contamination incident, the (perhaps somewhat liberal) 
workplace control limits for white, brown and blue 
asbestos were, respectively, 1.0,0.5 and 0.2 fibres per 
millilitre of air averaged over a four hour period. 
(These limits were adjusted down on August 1,1984). 
Prior to the July 4th incident, the worst sampling 
result stood at . 006 
fibres per millilitre "With a large 
number of results showing zero or . 002 
fibres per 
millilitre" (Cova, B., Op Cit). Therefore, prior to July 
4th, the local authority's comprehensive and responsive 
monitoring and analysis of ambient asbestos levels had 
revealed concentrations well below the most rigorous 
standard - the 0.2 fibres per millilitre limit for blue 
asbestos. Thus, even if we assume that all emissions 
were of blue asbestos (an unlikely scenario given the 
volume of brown asbestos used at the power station), 
prior to July 4th, the most rigorous workplace TLV was 
never approached. And even when, on July 4th, the 
workplace TLV of 0.2 fibres of blue asbestos per 
millilitre of air was exceeded, the maximum recorded 
concentration in the immediate vicinity of the site was 
only 0.23 fibres per millilitre (Cova, B., Op Cit). 
Furthermore, when the peaks of July 4th were averaged 
across an eight hour period (the assumed length of the 
working day), a level of less than 0.2 fibres of 
asbestos per millilitre was achieved. (Of course, as 
Beck points out in Risk Society, while those in 
authority may seek to camouflage pollution peaks in 
time-weighted averages, such peaks, however transient, 
338 
can trigger illnesses - especially amongst vulnerable 
groups. Beck illustrates this point by talking about 
lead exposure: Thus, while the German Council of Experts 
on Environmental Issues insists that "The exposure of 
the population to lead is not dangerous on average" [my 
emphasis] (Beck, U., Risk Society, p. 25), such 
'acceptable' lead levels may well pose a danger to the 
young, whose un-average bodies may be unable to deal 
with the toxin. Equally, such generalised statements do 
not take into account the 'unequal risk position' of 
those who live near major roads). While it can 
reasonably be argued that "Occupational levels have no 
relevance in environmental terms ... a 
degree of risk 
being accepted in the occupational situation when 
working with hazardous materials" (Cova, B., Op Cit), it 
is nevertheless a fact that throughout most of the 
decontamination and demolition period, levels of general 
environmental asbestos were significantly below 
workplace TLVs. It could be said that this was something 
of an achievement, given the complex and difficult 
nature of asbestos removal and dust control in 
unfamiliar heavy industrial surroundings: 
The challenge facing those stripping asbestos 
from a power station is a severe one: the safe 
removal of hundreds of tons of lethal 
material, within tight limits laid down by the 
Health and Safety Executive... 
What the contractor has to do is to 
ensure that the fibre levels during stripping, 
which can be as high as 200 fibres per 
millilitre, are kept to not more than 1 fibre 
per millilitre at most outside the controlled 
environment in which the job is carried out 
(Building, Op Cit, p. 29). 
Obviously, it is theoretically easier to control 
339 
emissions in a fixed and familiar situation like an 
asbestos mill, than in the chaotic and unfamiliar 
surroundings of a decommissioned power station. 
The usually adequate performance of the decontamination 
contractors attracted favourable comment from the 
Chairman of Hammersmith and Fulham's Engineering and 
Environmental Policies Committee. As Councillor Wombwell 
pointed out in a letter to the Sunday Times: 
The environmental monitoring results obtained 
by the Council, the Health and Safety 
Executive and the London School of Hygiene and 
Tropical Medicine (consultants) have all been 
made available to local resident groups and 
all have been satisfactory, showing levels of 
less than . 01 fibres per millilitre 
(Wombwell, 
G., 'Settling The Dust' [Letter], The Sunday 
Times, July 3,1983). 
(Councillor Wombwell did, however, express some concern 
over the manner of the CEGB's disposal of the redundant 
power station: "I do not believe that the CEGB will 
change what they must see as good commercial practice, 
but I would urge them to liaise with the Health and 
Safety Executive and the local authority concerned at 
exchange-of-contract stage so that these bodies can move 
into operation immediately and ensure effective control" 
(Wombwell, G., Op Cit). The HSE's principle inspector 
for the site, Paul Taylor, also commented favourably on 
the contractors' performance: 
It has been a nightmare but its quite safe 
now. Over 2,500 air samples have been taken 
and very few have been over the legal limit 
(Yarde, R., 'A Clean Sweep', The West London 
Observer, June 21,1984). 
340 
Despite such official reassurances, however, there is 
little doubt that asbestos release incidents, of which 
there had been three by the October of 1983, occasioned 
significant and continuing unease amongst the power 
station activists. These incidents continued into 1984, 
right up to the commencement of demolition work. 
It must be said, however, that criticism of those 
involved in the decontamination and demolition was not 
always particularly well-informed, as may be gathered 
from the following statement from one of the core 
activists: 
The environmental limit is 0.01, but we have 
been told that [over August Bank Holiday] the 
levels at the boundary were elevated to 
between 0.09 and 0.15 (The West London 
Observer, August 17,1984). 
There were, of course, no general environmental limits 
at this time. Indeed, there are none today. Furthermore, 
while the elevated levels recorded on August Bank 
Holiday, 1984, were over ten times the recommended 
workplace TLV for white asbestos, the pattern in other 
releases had been that such elevated levels quickly 
reduced. During the first recorded release incident, for 
example, the elevated levels of . 23 
fibres per 
millilitre noted on July 4th, 1983, had decayed to . 002 
fibres per millilitre by 6am on July 5th (Cova, B., Op 
Cit). 
There were also stoppages for reasons other than 
asbestos release. For example, work was halted by the 
HSE on July 20th, 1983, because the contractors had 
341 
failed to submit a Method Statement, specifying 
demolition timescales and strategies, to the Factory 
Inspectorate. For his part, Tony Marriott of London and 
York appeared unperturbed by the intervention. As a 
local newspaper reported: 
London and York director Tony Marriott told 
the Chronicle on Tuesday: "We are meeting 
tomorrow and I think work will be able to 
restart later on the same day. There are a few 
changes asked for in the work scheme that we 
submitted to the Health and Safety Executive 
last Friday. But these changes are only on 
cosmetic issues. They are nothing fundamental 
to the job. Our work methods have always been 
above the standards required" ('Asbestos Row 
Continues', The Fulham Chronicle, July 29, 
1983). 
The demolition contractors were equally optimistic on 
their ability to satisfy the HSE's requirements - and 
were very keen to point out that the reason for the 
stoppage was definitely not another release of asbestos 
dust: 
We have stopped asbestos removal as instructed 
by the factory inspector, but there is 
definitely no leakage whatsoever of any 
asbestos. The Health and Safety Executive has 
asked for written details of our methods of 
operation and we shall be supplying this as 
soon as possible. We are completely confident 
about our methods of removal ('Health Fears 
Halt Power Station Work', The Evening 
Standard, July 21,1983). 
In all, work was halted three times in July, 1983 
('Asbestos Scare Causes Rethink On Power Station Sales', 
New Scientist, July 28,1983). 
Towards the end of July, the government and CEGB found 
themselves under increasing pressure to re-think their 
342 
policy on the sale of power stations and the transfer of 
responsibility for asbestos removal. The CEGB responded 
by stating it was planning a "Careful review" of its 
sales policy (Wallace, M., Op Cit). The CEGB had earlier 
been put under pressure to re-think its policy by the 
GLC (King, M., 'Experts To Check Asbestos Danger', 
Evening Standard, July 25,1983). 
Then, dramatically, on July 28th 1983, John Gummer, the 
Under-Secretary of State for Employment, announced to 
the Commons that from July 29th the CEGB would (again) 
be responsible for asbestos removal at decommissioned 
power stations. Sir Walter Marshall, head of the CEGB, 
attributed the government's volte-face to the public's 
expressed preference for the CEGB itself to strip 
asbestos from redundant power stations: 
We on the board were impressed that the public 
put a great deal of weight on our 
responsibility as a public body, and I am very 
pleased that we are taking full control of 
asbestos in our stations (Bennett, H., 
'Residents Win Campaign Against Asbestos 
Danger', The Morning Star, July 29,1983). 
When questioned about the extra cost to the country of 
using the CEGB to remove asbestos, Marshall justified 
the £1 million per station decontamination cost by 
saying "We have to balance that financial disadvantage 
against the understandable concern of the general 
public" (Choriton, P., 'Asbestos Pledge On Disused Power 
Stations', The Guardian, July 29,1983). 
The new, policy, which affected the sale of up to 33 
stations nationally (20 of which, containing up to 
343 
20,000 tonnes of asbestos, were located in Greater 
London (Charman, P., 'Asbestos Fears In Fulham', Time 
Out, June 10-16,1983; and 'Ban All White Asbestos Too', 
The Londoner, September, 1983)), simply re-introduced 
what had been accepted practice up until 1982 - namely 
that the CEGB, as the polluter, would pay for the 
removal and neutralisation of whatever hazards had been 
generated during the life of a plant. Therefore, it 
could be said that in the case of its policy on power 
station decontamination, the Conservative Government 
bowed to public pressure and reversed a privatisation 
policy. (Such policy reversals are not entirely unheard 
of, however, as evinced by the Major administration's 
1994 decision not to press ahead with Post Office 
privatisation in the face of concerted public opposition 
to the plan (especially from service consumers and 
industry unions)). 
The debate, besides forcing this change of heart, also 
brought asbestos hazard to the top of the political 
agenda, with John Gummer telling the Commons that, in 
his view, there was no safe level for asbestos dust: 
It is not a substance for which one can set a 
level below which there is no risk... We must, 
therefore, assume that a single fibre could do 
real damage which may not be seen for 20 years 
or more (John Gummer in Cova, B., Op Cit, 
p. 1312). 
This pronouncement very publicly allied the government 
with the view of the Asbestos Advisory Committee, put 
some three years earlier in 1979, that "There was no 
proven safe level of exposure to asbestos fibres in air" 
344 
(Reynolds, P., 'Asbestos: Local Authorities' Policy', 
London Environmental Bulletin, Autumn 1983, Volume 1, 
Number 2). 
As the year progressed the relationship between 
Barlborough Metals and UK Asbestos deteriorated. 
Eventually, UK Asbestos walked off the job, to be 
replaced on November 1st, 1983, by a Sheffield based 
company called Linfact (Industrial Services) Ltd. Like 
UK Asbestos, Linfact was not a member of either of the 
industry's trade associations, the Asbestos Removal 
Contractors' Association (ARCA), or the Thermal 
Insulation Contractors' Association (TICA). (At this 
time, ARCA, which existed "To improve working conditions 
and safety for the industry" ('ARCA - The Trade 
Association' [Publicity Material], ARCA, Britain), was 
turning down 50% of membership applications because of 
concerns over applicants' experience and integrity 
(Bailey, M., 'Easy Rules For Asbestos Strippers', The 
Observer)). Linfact's non-membership of either of the 
asbestos removal industry's trade associations was of 
some concern to the HSE, whose site inspector commented: 
I would be happier if Linfact was a member of 
either association but membership is not 
obligatory ('New Firm To Strip Killer Dust At 
Station', West London Observer, October 27, 
1983). 
Also of concern was Linfact's previous work record - the 
company had only ever undertaken small-scale asbestos 
removal jobs. However, "Despite Linfact's lack of 
experience the HSE [gave] it the go-ahead after carrying 
345 
out intensive checks on its record" (Ibid). (Given the 
HSE's lack of resources, it is doubtful that these 
checks would have been particularly intensive). To its 
credit, however, Linfact's standard of work was somewhat 
higher than that of its predecessor. For example, it was 
Linf act that saw to the removal of the "Hundreds of 
forgotten broken bags of asbestos stored in the turbine 
hall by its predecessor" (Weeden, C., 'The Boys from the 
Blue Dust', Op Cit). 
In May 1984, Barlborough and Linf act, realising they had 
under-estimated the time it would take to dismantle the 
station's four huge chimneys, and fearing they could 
well lose the sale of the site to an understandably 
impatient supermarket chain ('Power News', Private Eye, 
May 4,1984), hatched a plan to 'drop' them instead. 
This would have meant knocking the chimneys down instead 
of dismantling them in controlled stages. The chimneys 
contained some 60 tons of concrete (Ibid). The HSE's 
representative, Mr. Paul Taylor, who had replaced the 
"Incompetent" ('Power Games', Private Eye, September 23, 
1983) and "Heavily-lampooned" (City Limits, October 4, 
1983) Mr. Daniel Mallon, objected, saying that falling 
debris might liberate asbestos and other dangerous 
materials such as soot and silicates ('Power News', Op 
Cit). He also feared there might be loss of life should 
a chimney fall onto nearby housing. (The danger posed by 
falling debris in such a built-up and densely populated 
neighbourhood was one of the first issues to be 
addressed by local residents - before, that is, they 
lighted on the asbestos issue). 
346 
Later in the same month the contractors had to be 
stopped from breaking through the exterior walls of the 
power station amidst fears that this could allow 
asbestos dust to escape (Private Eye, May 18,1984). 
By June, 1984, the HSE's Taylor was satisfied that the 
bulk of the asbestos had been removed, although he was 
concerned that "Some asbestos could remain trapped under 
machinery" ('Lethal Dust Is Cleared', West London 
Observer, June 14,1984). 
Perhaps somewhat ironically in the context of events at 
Fulham Power Station, on August ist, 1984, the 
government's new Licensing Regulations for asbestos 
removal contractors came into force. The Regulations 
were drafted "To prevent employers or self employed 
persons carrying out work which involves significant 
disturbance of asbestos insulation or asbestos coating 
unless they have been issued with a licence by the 
Executive" ('Asbestos Removal to be Brought Under 
Stricter Control', Health and Safety Commission 
Newsletter, No. 34 , February, 1984). As 
far as the HSE's 
inspectors were concerned, the regulations existed to 
"Help the Executive to target their inspection effort in 
order to monitor closely the work of certain 
contractors" (Ibid). Asked in Parliament to clarify what 
was meant by the 'better targeting of inspection 
effort', John Gummer, the Minister responsible, made the 
following statement: 
The Factory Inspectorate-will be responsible 
for most inspections of licensed contractors 
and their inspection of work activities is 
347 
based on a system of priorities which takes 
account of factors such as the conditions 
found at previous visits, the risk to 
employees and the general public, the track 
record of the firm and the inspector's 
professional judgement of the organisation [My 
emphasis] ('Parliamentary Questions', Health 
and Safety Commission Newsletter, No. 34, 
February, 1984). 
The government's commitment to a better targeting of 
inspection effort and protection of the public was met 
with some skepticism by the power station activists of 
Sands End, who gave no more than "A guarded welcome" 
('Mixed Welcome For New Asbestos Rules', The Fulham 
Chronicle, September 2,1983) to the new arrangements. 
Trade union reaction was equally ambivalent. The GMB's 
Health and Safety Officer, David Gee, was particularly 
critical: 
David Gee believes the scheme could undermine 
much of what has already been done by the 
unions themselves to protect workers, by 
allowing "anyone who has read the laws and 
codes on asbestos to legally operate knowing 
that the chance of being caught in breach of 
the safety procedures is less than it was a 
few years ago, before the public expenditure 
cuts had reduced the number of HSE Inspectors" 
(Building, Op Cit, p. 29). 
It had taken approximately twelve months to 
decontaminate the power station. The original estimate 
had been that asbestos stripping would take five months 
(The Times, May 3,1983). During this period, two 
companies, neither members of either ARCA or TICA, had 
been involved in the work. At one stage, because of its 
difficulties with UK Asbestos, Barlborough Metals 
(referred to by Private Eye as a "muck and brass" 
demolition company ('Power Politics', Op Cit)) had 
348 
threatened to strip the asbestos themselves. This 
possibility caused enormous consternation amongst the 
activists in Sands End. Barlborough's lax working 
practices had been repeatedly highlighted in the press. 
Private Eye, for example, had pointed out that "The lack 
of discipline by Barlborough staff was causing doors and 
windows to be left open". The same report concluded that 
"Don Crawley, who heads Barlborough, wants the brass and 
copper out quickly and doesn't care much for safety 
regulations" ('Power Games', Op Cit). Surprisingly, the 
HSE's first site inspector, Daniel Mallon, had no 
reservations about Barlborough undertaking the asbestos 
stripping, even though "They had no training or 
expertise" (Ibid). 
Barlborough's questionable working practices eventually 
proved fatal for two of its employees: In July 1984, two 
men died when they were buried under 400 tons of rubble 
at the power station site (Doughty, S., 'The Rescuers 
Who Worked In Vain', Evening Standard, July 10,1984). 
According to newspaper reports, "The method of 
demolition work. . . was wrong, dangerous and went ahead 
without the knowledge of the Health and Safety 
Executive... " ('Demolition Work At Power Station 
'Entirely Wrong' , Fulham Chronicle, January 4,1985). 
This incident seemed to confirm the incompetence of the 
various parties to the power station's sale, 
decontamination and demolition. However, while the 
deaths may well have been avoidable, it would be wrong 
to assume that those who laboured for Barlborough 
349 
Metals, UK Asbestos and Linfact were entirely above 
reproach. Indeed, there is some evidence to support the 
view that those who work in the asbestos removal 
industry cooperate with, and profit from dubious and/or 
inadequate decontamination and demolition practices. At 
the time of the scandal over the breaking of the Ark 
Royal, for example, it was revealed that the labourers 
involved in the contract were quite prepared to work 
without the appropriate personal protective equipment - 
so long as they were adequately compensated. As one of 
the foremen on the Ark Royal contract put it: 
I have worked for ten years on navy boats and 
I have never used masks or protective 
clothing. My experience is that it was common 
practice to get extra payments for stripping 
asbestos (Wallace, M., Op Cit). 
This Ark Royal worker was quite prepared to risk his 
health for a bonus payment. As the journalist who 
interviewed him put it: 
Instead of waiting for the masks and 
protective clothing which were on order, he 
took a crowbar and hacked the blue asbestos 
away from the plates (Ibid). 
Indeed, so determined were the workers at Cairn Ryan to 
get their bonus payments that "Some of the men. .. said 
that if they did not receive some cash, they would call 
in the factory inspector". (The yard was, at this time, 
heavily contaminated with blue asbestos). To his credit, 
the site manager stood firm: "I would not be 
blackmailed" he said (Ibid). 
In its 1993 report into the working practices of the 
350 
asbestos industry, the HSE's Asbestos Working Group 
uncovered further evidence of what it saw as the 
complicity of workers in bad management practices: 
In spite of relentless publicity about the 
dangers of the material, many workers were 
found by a team of researchers to show scant 
regard for precautions. Protective clothing 
was not worn by some workers, and not worn 
properly or cleaned at regular intervals by 
others (Wainright, M., 'Asbestos Workers Shun 
Safety, Says Report', The Guardian, November 
10,1993). 
(It should be noted that protective clothing may not be 
worn for a number of reasons besides laziness. 
Sometimes, protective clothing may not be worn because 
it is too cumbersome, or because insufficient time is 
allowed for putting on and taking off the suits and 
apparatus. As Irwin explains in Citizen Science, 
practices and procedures that appear feasible under 
laboratory conditions, may not be practicable under 
field conditions (Ibid, Routledge, Britain, 1995, p. 112- 
113)). 
The apparent inclination of some workers to take 'short 
cuts' (for whatever reason) has been noted by a number 
of people directly involved with the asbestos removal 
industry: 
Barry Lake, a partner in asbestos surveying 
firm Lake and Dunn, believes that the 
experienced worker can be his own worst enemy. 
Familiarity with the job can lead to contempt 
for the very real dangers it entails. Lake 
believes that although training is essential, 
so is the need to reiterate the dangers of the 
job at frequent intervals... 
[In the] general demolition 
industry... getting workers even to wear a 
hard-hat. . . 
is a constant battle (Building, Op 
351 
Cit, p. 29). 
While it is possibly true that 'the experienced worker 
can be his own worst enemy', as explained in Chapter 2, 
a complete and inclusive understanding of any human 
activity requires that it be viewed in its social, 
economic and political context. Thus, asbestos workers' 
alleged 'scant regard for precautions' may be 
attributable - in some measure, at least - to management 
pressure to 'get on with the job'. In today's fevered 
economic climate, with companies under pressure to 
produce ever bigger profits, and workers in a relatively 
weak bargaining position (Hall, S., and Jacques, M., 
(Eds), The Politics of Thatcherism, Lawrence and 
Wishart, Britain, 1983, p. 53), it is quite possible that 
employees might acquiesce in unsafe working practices 
just so they can keep their job - however unsafe and 
insecure it might be. 
To be completely fair to employers, however, it should 
be remembered that there will always be some workers 
who, however well-paid, will shun safe working practices 
in return for a bonus. 
Despite such evidence of corner-cutting in the asbestos 
removal and general demolition industries, however, it 
is important to remember that the working practices at 
Fulham attracted only limited adverse comment from the 
factory inspectors. 
The final confrontation between the local authority and 
the contractors came in November, 1984, when Hammersmith 
352 
and Fulham obtained a High Court order restricting 
demolition work to 8am to 6pm on weekdays and 8am to lpm 
on Saturdays. The noise of the demolition outside these 
hours had been disturbing residents. Don Crawley of 
Barlborough had "No comment to make" on the decision 
('Demolition Firm Blasted Away By Furious Council', 
Hammersmith and Fulham Guardian, November, 1984). 
The end of 1984 witnessed a period of recrimination 
between the various agencies involved in monitoring the 
decommissioning and demolition of Fulham Power Station. 
Councillor Wombwell, Chairman of LBH&F's Engineering and 
Environmental Services Committee, started the name- 
calling as early as July when he stated; "There have 
been times when we have had very considerable concern 
about the health executive" (Workman, M., 'Two Buried In 
The Rubble' , West London Observer, July 12,1984). As a 
local paper put it, Wombwell was of the opinion that the 
HSE had "Not been vigilant enough in monitoring the 
removal of asbestos" (Ibid). Then in October, Bruce Cova 
himself rounded on the HSE: 
In the past 18 months my council and its 
residents have been exposed to rudeness, 
abuse, threats of legal proceedings, 
misinformation, total about-turns, the salient 
points of our letters are ignored and lip- 
service paid to co-operation ('Asbestos 
'Arrogance'', Evening Standard, October 18, 
1984). 
Cova made a number of specific criticisms of the HSE. He 
accused the Executive of encouraging the contractors to 
"Throw open doors when asbestos levels inside the 
station exceeded occupational levels". He asserted that 
353 
contract labour working in asbestos-contaminated areas 
"Wore no respiratory protection", and that HSE staff 
themselves failed to set an example by visiting the site 
in business suits. He even alleged that the HSE had told 
council staff they would not be admitted onto the site 
if they were wearing'respirators (presumably because the 
factory inspectors responsible for the site feared this 
would alarm members of the public and provide photo 
opportunities and good copy for the press). Cova "Found 
this stance, which occurred on two separate occasions, 
quite unbelievable" ('Asbestos 'Arrogance' , Op Cit). 
Lastly, Cova pointed out that the HSE refused to use 
data on airborne asbestos supplied by the local 
authority, preferring to rely solely on readings 
provided by the London School of Hygiene and Tropical 
Medicine on behalf of UK Asbestos. 
In response, the HSE, while acknowledging "A history of 
contention between ourselves and the local authority 
over the power station" (Ibid), stoutly defended its 
conduct and integrity. As a spokesperson put it: 
[W]e absolutely deny any charge of neglect, 
arrogance or any action which would have 
endangered local people (Ibid). 
Regarding the emissions of asbestos dust, the HSE was 
happy that public health had at no time been endangered: 
It has never been proved that there was a 
danger to people living near the station. 
Without wishing to play the danger from 
asbestos down, the only thing the council 
managed to prove was that after a spill into 
the outside atmosphere, levels matched the 
occupational limit set by us ('Watchdogs Hit 
Back At Asbestos Attack', Hammersmith and 
354 
Fulham Guardian, November, 1984). 
(This statement is only accurate if incidents such as 
the July 4th release of 0.23 fibres per millilitre are 
averaged over a fixed time period. Strictly speaking, 
the peak of the emission of July 4th broke the workplace 
TLV for blue asbestos, which some considered quite 
liberal at 0.2 fibres per millilitre) . 
Thus the twelve month decontamination saga ended in 
back-biting, recrimination and acrimony. In the local 
authority's construction of events, the villains were 
Barlborough Metals, UK Asbestos, Linfact and 
(especially) the HSE. In that offered by the HSE, the 
Executive, despite dwindling resources and an ever- 
growing London caseload, made a heroic effort to monitor 
companies whose knowledge, resources and resolution were 
often inadequate. The HSE, with only 500 factory 
inspectors to cover the whole of Britain (Weeden, C., Op 
Cit), knew that it faced an uphill task in mounting an 
effective supervision at Fulham. Hence the somewhat 
hesitant tone of the commitment to public safety given 
by the HSE's Deputy Chief Inspector of Factories at the 
commencement of the decontamination and demolition: 
Within the resources we have available to us, 
we will do our level best to ensure that 
Fulham Power Station comes down without risk 
to the people who live around it (Ibid). 
Indeed, such were the resource constraints on the HSE 
that on July 7th, just three days after the first major 
recorded emission, the HSE's first site inspector, 
355 
Daniel Mallon, announced that he had to reduce the time 
he spent at Fulham due to the pressure of other work 
(Ibid). (During this period, the public expenditure cuts 
of the first determinedly disinflationary Thatcher 
administration were beginning to have a serious effect 
on the work of the' Executive. Thus, even though six 
million more workers had been made subject to the Health 
and Safety at Work Act since its inception in 1974, 
between 1979 and 1983 the HSE lost 100 factory 
inspectors (Wallace, M., and Raw, C., Op Cit)). Mallon's 
untimely announcement did little to calm the fears of 
the activists, who had been alarmed by the July 4th 
incident. The HSE, however, were rather more 
circumspect; As one HSE spokesperson put it, "Residents 
will never be satisfied... " ('Watchdogs Hit Back At 
Asbestos Attack', Op Cit). 
2.2 Relevant Incidents and Developments Prior to the 
Fulham Power Station Debate. 
A number of events that occurred prior to May, 1983, 
(the start of the decontamination and demolition saga) 
had a bearing on the subsequent debate over such issues 
as CEGB power station sales policy, asbestos exposure 
standards, working practices, and the accreditation and 
competence of asbestos removal contractors. 
In June 1980, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) decided to 
scrap the Ark Royal, Britain's last major fixed wing 
aircraft carrier. The carrier had been popularised in 
the BBC TV serial 'Sailor'. Unfortunately, due to the 
incompetence of the first company to break the ship, a 
356 
major asbestos hazard was created in and around the 
Cairn Ryan yard at Stranraer. However, what was most 
interesting about the Ark Royal breaking saga was the 
remarkable similarity between the MoD's view of its 
responsibilities and that of the CEGB: The MoD's 
unabashed intention was to get the maximum possible 
return on the disposal, regardless of the ship's final 
destination. The ship was consequently sold to the 
highest bidder, a consortium that included H. Kitson 
Vickers, "Without any attempt to ascertain the 
purchaser's competence to handle [the] hazardous 
materials she was known to contain" (Wallace, M., Op 
Cit). The Sunday Times noted the remarkably similar 
philosophy of both the MoD and CEGB towards the disposal 
of hazardous wastes: 
As echoed two months ago by the Central 
Electricity Generating Board, when it sold 
Fulham power station complete with thousands 
of tons of asbestos to an untried firm, the 
Ministry of Defence refuses to accept moral 
responsibility for any consequent hazards 
(Ibid). 
Indeed, if anything, the attitude of the MoD was even 
more cavalier than that of the CEGB. When it was 
confirmed that the Navy had left 160 tons of bunker oil 
in the ship, the admirals, who had originally denied the 
oversight, explained that the handing over of a major 
fire risk to untried civilian contractors was justified 
on cost grounds: 
We regarded it as more economical to pay money 
to the salvage contractors (at that time 
H. Kitson Vickers) in order to do it. If we had 
done it ourselves, we would have had to hire a 
357 
bunker cleaner ship and it would have cost us 
more (Ibid). 
The MoD wholeheartedly backed its admirals: 
It's up to the scrap merchant to comply with 
the law. We simply get the best price we can 
(Ibid) . 
As mentioned above, this argument bears an uncanny 
resemblance to that of the CEGB and Government at the 
commencement of the Fulham Power Station debate. 
The importance of the Ark Royal saga to the Fulham Power 
Station debate lay in its timing and reporting. Although 
the majority of the events at Cairn Ryan occurred before 
May, 1983, the Sunday Times Insight journalist who 
reported on Fulham Power Station, Marjorie Wallace, saw 
an interesting parallel between asbestos-related events 
in a busy London suburb and those in a remote Scottish 
village. As far as Wallace was concerned, while the 
social contexts were very different, the potential risk 
- namely that posed by asbestos - was the same. As a 
consequence, Wallace ran stories on the Fulham 
demolition and Cairn Ryan breaking almost back to back. 
(The Insight team ran a major report on Fulham Power 
Station on June 26,1983. This was followed by a 
similarly detailed report on the Ark Royal on July 17, 
1983). It is possible that a number of the Fulham Power 
Station activists (and non-activists) would have read 
the July 17 report on the Ark Royal debacle, and 
extrapolated the Cairn Ryan experience to Sands End 
(although one can only speculate on the conclusions they 
358 
might have drawn). 
In 1982, Yorkshire Television broadcast a documentary 
entitled 'Alice: A Fight for Life'. The programme, which 
gave rise to significant press and public comment, 
detailed the slow death from mesothelioma of Alice, a 47 
year old who, at the age of 17, had worked for nine 
months at Cape Asbestos in Yorkshire. Alice had been 
exposed to significant quantities of asbestos dust. As 
the ex-farm girl put it, "It was just like haymaking - 
only indoors. There was white, thick dust all over". 
When she died, Alice's 65 year old husband was left with 
the task of raising her teenage son and five year old 
daughter. 
In October, 1982, the respected cancer epidemiologist 
Richard Peto, Reader in Cancer Studies at Oxford, very 
publicly drew attention to the level of morbidity and 
mortality attributable (in his opinion) to asbestos dust 
exposure: 
There will be a total of about 50,000 
asbestos-induced deaths in Britain in the next 
30 years or so. 50,000 deaths is a number so 
enormous that it is difficult to comprehend - 
for example, it greatly exceeds the likely 
number of murders during the same 
period. .. Because 
it is so widespread asbestos 
may well be the worst occupational carcinogen 
(cancer-causing substance) ever ('NALGO 
[Unison] Magsheet', No. 20, February 1984). 
In the same month as Richard Peto made his prediction, a 
warehouse explosion at Salford showered the surrounding 
area with asbestos debris (see above). As the HSE 
reported at the time, "Residential property near the 
warehouse was damaged and residents were temporarily 
359 
evacuated" ('Salford Company Fined Following 1982 Fire 
and Explosions', Health and Safety Commission 
Newsletter, No. 30, June, 1983) 
. Interestingly, the HSE's 
construction of events was that the evacuation was 
undertaken because quantities of sodium chlorate and 
other dangerous chemicals had been stored on site. Also 
in October 1982, the contractor involved in the 
decontamination of a power station in Rotherham was 
fined £700 for violating the asbestos regulations 
(Wallace, M., and Raw, C., Op Cit) This incident 
received some media attention. 
In November, 1982, in the context of the GLC's concern 
about asbestos, the London Borough of Lambeth hosted a 
conference on asbestos hazard (see above). 
In January, 1983, the government introduced new exposure 
standards for blue, brown and white asbestos (see 
above) . 
2.3 Relevant Incidents and Developments that Occurred 
During The Fulham Power Station Debate. 
In March, 1983, Medway Insulations of Maidstone 
commenced a large asbestos removal contract at the CEGB- 
owned Tilbury-A power station in Essex. Medway 
Insulations were to remove "Huge areas of asbestos, 150 
feet high and hundreds of feet long". At the end of May, 
1983, however, Medway were told to stop work by the CEGB 
for breaking asbestos removal regulations. Apparently, 
the company's workers had been stripping the asbestos 
without adequate protection. The company, both an ARCA 
360 
member and CEGB-approved contractor, was eventually 
thrown off the job. This incident seemed to illustrate 
two points. Firstly, that even CEGB-approved contractors 
working under CEGB supervision at functioning power 
stations could behave irresponsibly. And secondly, that 
even the (apparently) strict membership regime applied 
by the industry's trade association, ARCA, could not 
guarantee good practice on the part of its members. (At 
this time, ARCA membership involved "Visits by members 
of the committee, questionnaires, references and two 
years' experience of removal"). This failure of control 
led one construction industry correspondent to call ARCA 
a "Paper tiger". He went on; 
Despite the complaints procedure having been 
used several times, there has never been a 
dismissal of an ARCA member to date. The 
Association is, to some extent, hamstrung by 
its own constitution ... (Building, Op Cit, 
p. 29). 
As the demolition saga in Fulham progressed, it became 
clear that the CEGB's programme of metropolitan closures 
extended well beyond SW6. As City Limits explained in 
July, 1983; 
Nearly every old power station in London, 
together with many others nationally, are 
going to close. Hackney, Blackwall Point, 
Bankside, Fulham, Kingston, Croydon and 
Barking are already closed. More will formally 
be closed this October [1983] at Acton Lane, 
Battersea, Deptford, and West Ham. Once shut 
down with the workforce removed, the CEGE 
intends to sell each one and the land it 
occupies. All will be knocked down, bar 
Battersea which will be gutted ('Under The 
Hammer: A Dusty Business', Op Cit). 
361 
This vast closure and sales programme left London's 
power supply with the nuclear-powered station at 
Dungeness, and the large oil-powered stations at the 
Isle of Grain, Littlebrook and King's North. 
Of all the London power stations to be closed, perhaps 
the best known was Battersea in Wandsworth. Battersea 
was closed in October, 1983, leaving a CEGB-appointed 
'panel of assessors' with the task of finding a suitable 
use for the asbestos-laden listed building. Where Fulham 
had simply been sold to the highest bidder, it was 
determined that Battersea (at least) should be sold to a 
developer "Of suitable financial standing and ability". 
In another innovation, the CEGB canvassed local opinion 
on the question of the building's future use - although 
the Board allowed just four weeks for the consultation. 
Despite the short timescale, however, several community 
schemes were proposed. The results were exhibited to the 
general public. The Board's new-found 'glasnost' also 
elicited academic contributions. The Polytechnic of the 
South Bank, for example, conducted a survey across 
Battersea on community preferences for the use of the 
site should the power station be demolished. The 
community expressed a strong preference for housing, 
leisure and community facilities ('The Power, The Glory 
And Mickey Mouse', City Limits, May 4-10,1984). 
(Similar preferences were expressed by some of the 
residents of Sands End with regard to the Fulham site, 
although, of course, no-one officially canvassed these 
views). In another break with the past, the CEGB 
organised conducted tours of the power station over a 
362 
three week period in late 1983 (even though, at this 
time, none of the asbestos had been removed). It is 
possible that the CEGB's candour and openness with the 
public over the future of Battersea Power Station 
reflected in some measure the adverse publicity it had 
received over the covert sale of Fulham Power Station. 
3 Conclusion. 
The decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power 
Station lent itself to a number of constructions. These 
ranged from the HSE's view that those involved in the 
project behaved, for the most part, correctly, to 
TERROR's view that all those who had a hand in the 
decontamination and demolition were guilty of negligence 
in some degree: even Bruce Cova, popular hero during the 
latter stages of the project, drew criticism at the 
commencement of the debate due to his perceived 
reluctance to get involved. 
The decontamination and demolition generated a heady 
mixture of events and personalities. Amongst these were 
the spectacle of a public utility - the CEGB - treating 
a loyal community with apparent disdain; A 'factory of 
modernity and light' funded, built and run by the people 
of Fulham in the interests of the community abandoned 
(by the CEGB) to a humiliating fate; A potentially 
dangerous demolition in the heart of a densely populated 
community; (Mostly) out-of-town 'muck and brass' 
demolition contractors determined to get the maximum 
return on their investment in the shortest possible time 
for the minimum outlay; And authorities that appeared, 
363 
for the most part, dismissive of campaigners' concerns. 
364 
Chapter 7 
Fulham Power Station: Activism. 
1 Introduction. 
This chapter describes, in the main part, the activities 
and views of those residents of Sands End who contested 
the mode of decontamination and demolition of Fulham 
Power Station in 1983/1984. 
The activists' views are recounted verbatim and 
'unabridged'. No interpretation is offered. A discourse 
on the themes of the debate and characteristics of the 
campaign is offered in the following chapter. 
As mentioned in Chapter 4, TERROR provided the vehicle 
for all active community opposition to the mode of 
decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power Station. 
TERROR had no formal structure, and was open to any 
resident who wanted to join. Its membership, however, 
was very small. 
Bearing in mind that, at the time of the power station 
debate, TERROR had no more than a dozen self appointed, 
middle class members, the opinions recounted below do 
not necessarily reflect those of the wider community. 
TERROR was, in essence, a cabal within the community - 
albeit a cabal open to new members. Indeed, TERROR's 
active members would have welcomed more help from the 
community. (This is a prominent theme of the activists' 
discourse, as will be shown later). 
365 
2 Methodolocgv. 
2.1 Introduction. 
This chapter examines the motives and nature of active 
community opposition to the mode of decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station. 
Three devices were used to produce an activists' 
narrative of events: Firstly, interviews with those 
members of TERROR most active in the power station 
campaign (Section 3.1) Secondly, the reproduction of any 
views expressed by campaigners in newspapers and 
periodicals (Section 3.2). And thirdly, the recounting 
of any views expressed by campaigners in the broadcast 
media (as far as the limited availability of material 
allowed) (Section 3.3). 
While TERROR was the mouthpiece of the vast majority of 
active community opposition to the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station, statements were 
inevitably made by members of the general public, often 
in the form of letters to local newspapers. Although few 
in number, these have been reproduced here as a further 
insight into the community's discourse on the power 
station, asbestos and authority. 
2.2 Narrative Sources. 
2.2.1 Contemporary Interviews. 
All those members of TERROR who were closely involved 
with the power station debate agreed to be interviewed, 
366 
with one exception - the husband of one of the key 
female activists. Nevertheless, the interview programme 
produced nine lengthy 'scripts' 
The interview format was formal but flexible. That is, 
while all interviewees were asked the same questions, 
different subsidiary questions would be asked depending 
on responses given. This flexibility allowed a wide 
range of views, experiences and issues to be covered. 
The interview questions were as follows: 
1 Why did you decide to live in Fulham? 
2 Was there anything you especially liked about the 
area? 
3 Was there anything you especially disliked about the 
area? 
4 Did you live at the same address throughout the power 
station debate? 
5 At the start of the debate, were you responsible for 
anybody else's welfare where you lived? (If no, did you 
become responsible for anybody else's welfare as the 
debate progressed? ) 
6 Where did you work and what was your job? 
7 Did you belong to any local/national groups? (If yes, 
which ones? What were their concerns? ) 
8 How did you first become aware there might be a 
problem with the demolition? 
367 
9 How did you feel when you first heard there might be a 
problem? 
10 What did you want done about the problem? 
11 What actions did you take, either on your own or as a 
member of the group? 
12 Did the group have access to technical resources? 
13 Did you ever disagree with the arguments made by the 
group? (If yes, why? ) 
14 Were there any joint actions with other groups? (If 
yes, what were they? If yes, were there any 
disagreements over aims? ) 
15 What were the results of your actions? 
16 How did you feel at the end of the campaign? 
17 Had your feelings about where you lived changed? (If 
yes, why? ) 
18 Do you think the situation could have been avoided? 
(If yes, how? If no, why not? ) 
19 Have you been involved in any industrial hazard 
debates since? (If yes, which ones, and in what ways? ) 
20 What are your feelings now about living near major 
industrial plants? 
21 Are there any industrial sites in Sands End, between 
Wandsworth Bridge Road and the railway line, up to the 
King's Road, that give you cause for concern? 
368 
(Note that Question 5 was intended to reveal which 
activists either were or became responsible for children 
during the debate). 
Four of the questions were slightly changed between the 
first and second interviews. Question 9 initially read 
'What did you feel when you first heard there might be a 
problem? ' Question 10 initially read 'What did you 
resolve to do? ' Question 11 initially read 'What actions 
did you and/or the group become involved in? ' And 
Question 20 initially read 'How do you feel about living 
in old industrial neighbourhoods like Sands End? ' The 
changes were made because questions 9,10,11 and 20 had 
caused (mild) confusion in the first of the nine 
interviews. Question 20, for example, was intended to 
probe what people felt about living in proximity to 
industry after their experiences of Fulham Power Station 
in the early 1980s. But in its original format - 'How do 
you feel about living in old industrial neighbourhoods 
like Sands End? ' - it was interpreted as a question 
about living in de-industrialised neighbourhoods. 
All interviews were arranged by telephone and were 
conducted by myself. Most interviews took place at the 
home of the interviewee. Interviewees had no prior 
knowledge of the questions they were to be asked 
(although some would no doubt have contacted friends to 
find out the general thrust of my interest). The 
questions were asked verbally. The list of questions was 
not left with the interviewee. All interviews were 
completed, with the shortest taking an hour and the 
369 
longest four hours. 
Responses were tape recorded then typed up. Particularly 
relevant responses were typed verbatim. Interviewees did 
not ask to see the completed scripts, although a few 
expressed an interest in seeing the completed thesis. 
2.2.2 Press and Periodical Reporting. 
During the second half of 1983, when the debate over the 
decontamination raged most fiercely, a number of reports 
appeared in local newspapers-. (There were two local 
weekly newspapers, the West London Observer and The 
Fulham Chronicle). Reports were also published in 
national newspapers and periodicals. These included The 
Guardian, The Times, Private Eve, Building and New 
Scientist. The majority of these reports were collected 
by TERROR's chronicler of events at Fulham Power Station 
and pasted into three large scrap books (which were lent 
to me for my research). Articles were entered by date of 
publication. TERROR also kept a photographic record of 
the power station's demolition. Some news reports 
contained quotations from TERROR activists. These 
reports provide a useful supplement to the accounts 
obtained through interview. 
2.2.3 Broadcast Media. 
The only broadcast media account obtained was a 
recording of a (substantial) radio magazine item put out 
at the height of the debate. This juxtaposed the views 
of the activists with those of the HSE and John Gummer. 
370 
3 Data. 
3.1 Interview Accounts. 
3.1.1 Introduction. 
Responses to questions will be recounted here in two 
stages. Common or majority themes will be highlighted 
first, followed by more unique insights. This approach 
is based on the premise that uncorroborated accounts are 
as. valuable as commonly held views in understanding the 
terms and construction of the debate. 
3.1.2 Responses. 
Question 1. Why did you decide to live in Fulham? 
Most of the activists who were not native to Sands End 
moved into the area to take advantage of its cheap 
rented and for-sale housing. The majority of 'newcomer 
activists' moved in before 1980 when the pace of 
gentrification was relatively slow. (Sands End was the 
last part of Fulham to be gentrified). As one 
interviewee put it, in the 1970s "Sands End was still a 
low-cost and working class area of London. Since then it 
has been gentrified out of all recognition" (JG: 
Interviewed October 23,1993). In the early 1970s 
,1... [I] t was just a gentle 'moving in, of people who 
were very often Londoners with a working class 
background who had benefited from education and who had 
gone into the professions or other skilled work and who 
were moving into private housing in parts of London 
371 
which they found comfortable, which related to their own 
background and spirit... " (Ibid). 
Those activists who had been born in Sands End chose to 
remain there because they liked the neighbourhood's 
community spirit. One moved away when she got married, 
but moved back when she began to feel 'homesick' (TR: 
Interviewed September 28,1993) Another chose to buy her 
mother's house, which she secured in 1971 for £4,000. 
It is noteworthy that all those TERROR members involved 
in the power station debate had lived in Sands End for 
some years prior to the events of 1983/1984. The 
campaign was not run by people recently arrived in Sands 
End or by people living outside the neighbourhood. 
Question 2. Was there anything You especially liked 
about the area? 
A number of non-native activists said they were 
attracted by the community spirit within Sands End. As 
one put it, when he moved into the area, Sands End 
11 ... 
[W]as a good community. It was still working class 
then. It was still thriving... There were a lot of shops 
on Stephendale Road" (DN: Interviewed November 24, 
1993). (The shops on Stephendale Road, located at the 
heart of Sands End, were undermined in the late 1980s by 
local superstore developments). An activist born in 
Sands End commented that °[I]t was always a very cosy 
area because a lot of the families worked in the power 
station" (TR: Op Cit). Another native stated that in 
Sands End "Everybody was related", and that "The doors 
372 
were left open" (CD: Interviewed September 17,1993). 
Several commented that they were attracted by the 
'uniqueness' of the area. Such uniqueness reflected the 
neighbourhood's isolation. As one activist explained: 
Derek Jarman, who was making 'Jubilee', showed 
me this area... I said 'What a weird, bizarre 
area to live in... What a strange place, like 
it is a real backwater... How would you get 
here? There are no tubes, no buses. What a 
weird place'. It was actually the Jubilee 
year, so everyone had their bunting out, and 
at one level, it seemed very old-fashioned, 
like a Welsh mining village, an 
anachronism... It was an odd place then, and it 
still is (VW: Interviewed October 5,1993). 
This same person was also drawn to the 'grubbiness' and 
cosmopolitanism of the neighbourhood. As she put it, 
Sands End "[H]ad a realistic mixture of people... [it 
was) a kind of eccentric place. .. 
full of ' one off' 
people... " (Ibid). 
According to another, the neighbourhood, at least in the 
1970s, displayed a marked social harmony and sense of 
equality - especially in the area's large private-rented 
estates: 
Everybody was sort of equal. Everybody paid 
thirty shillings a week rent. You all shared a 
garden. You all shared the coal cellars, and 
what is my kitchen was a communal 
scullery... There was a very great feeling of 
equality. OK, someone might have had nicer 
curtains or a bigger car, but there was a 
feeling that you belonged (TR: Op Cit). 
Despite the accelerating gentrification of the 1980s, 
the area's social heterogeneity persisted. As one 
activist explained: 
373 
It wasn't always rich people who moved in. You 
also had lots of flats and houses being shared 
by upcoming students who also created life in 
clubs and cafes.. . They had a desire to go out 
where previously there wasn't that market in 
the area (JG: Op Cit). 
This continually refreshed social heterogeneity proved 
attractive to many long-term and new residents. 
A number of activists also said they were attracted by 
the area's centralness and 'convenience for town'. 
Presumably, given the almost complete lack of public 
transport in the area (see above), these people had 
access to private transport. (The need for improved 
public transport in the area became a major 
preoccupation of ARISE. A long campaign met with some 
success; two small capacity 'Hoppa' bus services were 
introduced). 
Question 3. Was there anything you especially disliked 
about the area? 
Most activists mentioned the high levels of atmospheric 
pollution that existed before the power station's 
closure in 1978. As one put it, "There was filth in the 
air". Consequently, "Various people were worried about 
health" (JT: Interviewed October 11,1993) . Another 
highlighted the practical drawbacks of heavy and 
sustained atmospheric pollution: 
Your'washing would get covered if the wind was 
in the wrong direction.. It was very 
dusty... You would sweep the front and it was 
like someone had thrown dust (TR: Op Cit). 
374 
According to one activist, the consequence of such heavy 
and chronic pollution was that Sands End became known as 
"The arsehole of Fulham" (CD: Op Cit). The proliferation 
of small yard-based industries along the river 
exacerbated the pollution problem, as did high levels of 
commuter traffic: 
It was quite dirty then, both from the power 
station [and] lots of yard industries along 
there. . . There was a 
lot of traffic to the 
refuse site at the bottom here. There was fast 
through traffic in the rat-runs ... A couple of 
children got killed (DN: Op Cit). 
Several activists commented on the grubbiness and 
ugliness of the area - both past and present. As one put 
it, "The sheer ugliness took some getting used to. I saw 
nothing that rejoiced me [sic] " (MP: Op Cit) . According 
to another, "Wandsworth Bridge Road was depressing and 
run-down" (JT: Op Cit). And speaking of contemporary 
Sands End, a third commented; "There's a bit of a grunge 
aspect to it that I don't like" (VW: Op Cit). 
Most activists criticised Sands End for its lack of open 
space. One, who had moved into the area from a spacious 
social housing scheme in Dagenham, described Sands End 
as claustrophobic and 'compressed'. Another commented 
"It was dirty. It is very enclosed" (TR: Op Cit), while 
a third put the issue in a wider political context: 
It is not open enough. There is still too much 
turn of the century back-to-back. I think 
planning is to blame here, because of people 
trying to keep fairly low-quality housing 
streets in aspic, in a sense, and I don' t see 
the point of that... (JG: Op Cit). 
375 
One activist, who had moved to Sands End from Greenwich, 
a more prosperous and certainly greener area of London 
(the suburb is dominated by the park, a large, elegantly 
modelled open space on the Thames), said she "... felt 
that Sands End was socially rather neglected" (MP: Op 
Cit). According to this relative newcomer, moving to 
Sands End from Greenwich "... was almost from the sublime 
to the ridiculous" (Ibid). 
Another activist was critical of the passivity of the 
major community association, ARISE. As he put it, 
"ARISE... is a very gentle, low-key, not very angry type 
organisation, when in reality there are a lot of things 
to be angry about" (JG: Op Cit). According to this 
activist, such passivity allowed the construction of a 
"Jerry-built pile" - Chelsea Harbour - in the late 
1980s. The creation of this "Monument to Thatcherism" 
(Ibid) resulted from a combination of a 'kowtowing' 
local authority and an ideas vacuum amongst the 
residents of Sands End. There was "... a sickening level 
of quietude from the whole population and local 
politicians about what should be/could be done... " (JG: 
Op Cit). 
Views on the beauty or otherwise of the power station 
building itself were mixed. One (non-native) activist 
had looked forward to its demolition: 
I wasn't unhappy about the prospect of it 
coming down. I was rather anxious for 
significant urban renewal to take place in the 
area. I was anxious that the river could be 
accessed by local people.. . The power station blocked the river off totally from local 
people (JG: Op Cit). 
376 
Another, however, noted its close association with the 
people of Fulham, who had financed its construction, 
stoked its boilers and benefited directly from the cheap 
electricity it had produced: 
I think they resented [its demolition]. It was 
their power station. It is written across that 
part of the building that remains; 'Fulham 
Power Station'... I think they felt things went 
over their heads... when it had originally been 
given to them and they helped build it (MP: Op 
Cit). 
This same person also found the edifice attractive to 
look at. As she put it: 
I rather missed my power station. I'd got used 
to seeing it... I missed it visually... the sun 
shining on one side of it... It was magical in 
the moonlight ... I 
just found it so, but I 
don't suppose many others did (MP: Op Cit). 
Question 4. Did you live at the same address throughout 
the power station debate? 
With one exception, all the power station activists 
lived in Sands End. 
All those activists resident in the neighbourhood lived 
at the same Sands End address throughout the debate. 
None moved during or after the debate. Indeed, all were 
still resident at the properties they occupied during 
the power station debate when they were interviewed by 
myself in the latter part of 1993. 
The only person involved in the debate who did not live 
377 
in Sands End was the Community Development Worker (CDW). 
The CDW, who was involved only at the periphery of the 
campaign, worked for LBH&F's Community Development Unit 
and helped channel Inner Area Programme monies through 
ARISE to the local community. She lived in north London. 
Question S. At the start of the debate, were you 
responsible for anybody else's welfare where you lived? 
Most activists had children. The three most prominent 
activists - all women - had young children. One had a 
son aged two and a half. Another had a son aged three 
and a daughter aged nine, while another had a daughter 
aged eight (and a son aged seventeen). 
(These women were the leaders of the power station 
group. They were the 'core activists'). 
uestion 6. Where did you work and what was your iob? 
None of the activists worked in industry at the time of 
the power station debate. Most had jobs in non-technical 
areas. For example, one was an artist, another a part- 
time journalist, another a youth club leader and another 
a local authority manager. Only one of the activists - 
at the time of the debate a lecturer at a London 
polytechnic - had a formal scientific training (a BSc 
and PhD in chemistry). 
Two of the three 'core' activists had jobs in the arts. 
The third classified herself as a "domestic appliance" 
(CD: Op Cit), by which she meant a full-time housewife. 
378 
Question 7. Did you belong to any local/national groups? 
By definition, all the activists were members of TERROR, 
with the exception of the CDW who was not allowed by her 
employers to join local groups. 
At the time of the power station debate about half the 
activists were also either fully paid up or lapsed 
members of ARISE. A few belonged to the Labour Party, 
while one had been a Liberal Party national delegate. 
One activist, who belonged to ARISE, Greenpeace and 
possibly also the Labour Party (she couldn't remember), 
commented "I am not actually a joiner" (TR: Op Cit). 
Although being a somewhat "anarchic" group (VW: Op Cit) 
with no formal structure, TERROR proved an ideal vehicle 
for the power station campaign. As one activist 
explained, "TERROR went into a period of quietness 
because we had had a favourable decision from the GLC 
[on a major road scheme]. When the power station came up 
that network was able to organise and agitate on the 
power station" (JG: Op Cit). 
Question 8. How did you first become aware there might 
be a problem with the demolition? 
Most activists heard by word of mouth. Initial 
information on the demolition was received by a 
prominent member of TERROR (from a journalist), who then 
visited several other members. From this point onwards 
the information spread quickly throughout the 
organisation and wider community. 
379 
Some of the comments on the style in which the news was 
disseminated are interesting. One - the polytechnic 
lecturer - described his initial visit from the 
prominent TERROR activist contacted by the press as 
follows: 
[Name deleted] came in and had a tantrum. She 
is good at tantrums. She went off at the deep 
end, really, which I thought was a bit over 
the top (DN: Op Cit). 
The wider community realised that something unusual and 
unanticipated was happening at the power station from 
'strange goings on': 
Sylvia Bayliss, who ran the local newsagents, 
said that one man had gone in and bought her 
entire stock of Sellotape to put plastic bags 
up at the windows to save the dust coming 
out. . . There were men going 
in the pub 
[presumably men not known to the community] 
(AF: Interviewed October 21,1993). 
Question 9. How did you feel when you first heard there 
might be a problem? 
All the activists said they felt angry about the method 
of decontamination and demolition. The three core 
activists were respectively 'angry', 'furious' and 
'concerned for the community'. As one put it, she felt 
"Furious and frightened... The fear was 'Christ, what's 
going to happen? ' and the anger was 'How dare they - 
it's right on my back door'. Every time I tried to 
forget about it I would look out of the window and think 
, If I put that child out there, how far does the... "'(at 
this point her narrative tailed off into a silent 
380 
reverie) (VW: Op Cit). Another felt angry "Because I 
know how dangerous asbestos is... I knew about it from my 
father who was a doctor" (JT: Op Cit). This anger was 
heightened by the apparent indifference of the 
contractors; 
What angered me was the thought that the 
people in there were not responsible and 
couldn't give a shit (Ibid). 
The third core activist (the one born in Sands End) was 
concerned for the health of the general community: 
I never for once thought of it as being a 
personal issue - like my children might be 
affected or I might be affected - because I 
don't tend to think of it that way. But I felt 
it was unfair (CD: Op Cit). 
Another activist, also concerned at the apparent 
incompetence of the decontamination and demolition 
contractors, felt "Absolute outrage. . As soon as we 
realised that the group of developers were going to pull 
one down and had never pulled one down before - and with 
the valuable help of Private Eye it was revealed that 
this very group had been fined in Yorkshire - it was 
just sheer outrage that this could happen under our very 
noses. . . That we could 
be laid open to the effects of 
asbestos dust" (MP: Op Cit). 
Another was angry that it had been left to the general 
public to agitate for a safe demolition: 
[I felt] anger that it had to be a community 
group that was raising the issue, and about 
the fact that the people who should have been 
addressing the issues didn't know what was 
381 
going on (AF: Op Cit). 
According to this activist, the two Labour ward 
councillors "... were useless, as on every issue". 
Furthermore, "There was nobody from the council really 
interested, from 'Environmental Health, or any 
department". (The view that the local authority's 
Environmental Health department was (initially) slow to 
act on information received was commonly held amongst 
the activists). Finally, "The HSE were slow off the 
mark. It was almost as if there had to be a disaster 
before they could prioritise it" (AF: Op Cit). 
It is interesting that some of the activists put 
asbestos hazard in a wider historical perspective. One 
activist, who commented "We had never been worried 
before this. In my generation we had all used it", went 
on: 
One was horrified... And also at the same time 
I came from a generation when we all had our 
plaques of asbestos that we put underneath the 
saucepans to keep the flame down... It used to 
get a bit powdery, then you'd chuck it 
out... And the ironing board also had a plaque. 
And I remember a very nice ironmonger - he'd 
been here for years and years - whose basement 
was all lined with asbestos... He was not a bit 
worried. . . Of course, he'd read all the stuff 
in the local paper about what was going 
on... but it wasn't worrying him-because he'd 
always had it (MP: Op Cit). 
Another explained: "You had asbestos on your ironing 
board, for God's sake, and it used to crumble, and you 
never thought any more about it" (TR: Op Cit). 
A third related asbestos hazard to the hazards 
382 
encountered in his job as a research chemist: 
As I was handling chemicals that were lethal 
at the time, I wasn't particularly 
bothered... It did frighten me... in terms of if 
they screwed it up it could be quite nasty, 
but, you know, it is not like a nuclear 
spill. . . It 
is fairly innocuous 
... It is going 
to kill tens of people at most (DN: Op Cit). 
It should be noted, however, that even those who 
relativised asbestos hazard alongside other risks were, 
like those who (apparently) did not, still angry that 
they were being 'needlessly' exposed to an involuntary 
risk. 
Question 10. What did you want done about the problem? 
Given the perception that the existing contractors were 
using unsafe working practices, there was a consensus 
that TERROR should agitate for the safest possible 
decontamination and demolition. As one of the key 
activists put it, "I wanted it to be done in the most 
responsible manner" (JT: Op Cit). The demand for the 
'safest possible' job reflected the realisation that 
while TERROR could not, on its own, halt the demolition, 
it might be able to secure better standards of work. In 
short, TERROR members wanted "... to get as safe a job as 
possible, because we could not stop it" (CD: Op Cit). 
There was also a view that those who were perceived to 
have compromised public safety should be made to pay for 
their behaviour. These included the local authority, 
ward councillors, the HSE and especially the 
decontamination and demolition contractors. As one 
383 
activist, speaking about the contractors, put it: 
My initial response. . . was that I didn't want the buggers to get away with it. That sums it 
up in a nutshell, really. If they were going 
to make a large profit out of what was 
basically a bum deal, I didn't want them 
making a profit by cutting corners, and us 
being the recipients of the pollution (DN: Op 
Cit). 
The two local councillors were criticised for their 
'tardiness' and 'disinterest'. As one female activist 
put it: 
We felt the ward councillors were much too 
weak. They should have known about it before 
it was all brought up by a bunch of women (MP: 
Op Cit). 
Question 11. What actions did you take, either on your 
own, or as a member of the group? 
Most actions were taken under the aegis of TERROR, whose 
members displayed a remarkable coherence and unity of 
purpose throughout the power station debate. Group 
actions included public meetings, mail shots to 
residents, a visit to see work in progress, lobbying of 
MPs, GLC and local councillors, and a presentation of a 
statement of concerns to Sir Walter Marshall, Chairman 
of the CEGB, at the Board's headquarters in London. 
However, although the group displayed a remarkable unity 
during the campaign, two points need to be made about 
its structure and dynamics. 
The first is that the group itself functioned at two 
384 
levels - core and periphery. The core of the group 
consisted of three highly motivated women activists who 
energised the other members and drove the debate 
forwards. These women put a huge amount of effort into 
the campaign. As one of them explained; "We spent three 
months of our lives' working from eight in the morning 
until two at night" (CD: Op Cit). All three women had 
young children and husbands who went out to work. The 
periphery of the group consisted of some seven or eight 
activists who, although busy throughout the campaign, 
were very much 'back room' workers. 
The second point is that within the group, certain 
specialisms developed - especially amongst the three 
core members. Thus, one devoted her time to generating 
campaigning ideas. As she put it, "I am basically an 
ideas person" (VW: Op Cit). Another managed public 
relations, arranging visits for television crews from 
BBC Nationwide and a Scandinavian network. The third 
core member acted as the group's secretary and 
archivist. Her organisational skills were much respected 
by other (less organised) group members. As one put it, 
she "... Was excellent to work with, in that she was 
competent, she delivered... she was effective... ". This 
made her "The ideal person to work with" (DN: Op Cit). 
Peripheral group members also specialised. For example, 
the husband of one of the core activists spent 
considerable time researching the background of the 
various companies involved in the decontamination and 
demolition work at the power station. Much of the 
research was done at Companies House in London. 
385 
The group's only member with a formal scientific 
training, the chemistry lecturer/researcher, -sought 
expert help from the University of Southampton and from 
an oxford Professor. 
The youth club leader took it upon herself to run an 
'asbestos hazard awareness programme' for her charges. 
Such individual and spontaneous actions were, however, 
the exception. Most actions were agreed by group 
members, reviewed by a local Law Centre, then pursued 
under the aegis of TERROR. This gave activists a measure 
of peer support, personal anonymity and legal assurance. 
Question 12. Did the grout have access to technical 
resources? 
The group's only 'in-house' scientific resource was a 
chemistry lecturer/researcher working in higher 
education. He had a BSc and PhD in chemistry and was 
both lecturing and researching at the time. 
The lecturer contacted Professor Richard Peto, then 
Reader in Cancer Studies at Oxford, who had done 
extensive research into the carcinogenic properties of 
asbestos dust : "I rang him up a few times. He had even 
got the [carcinogenic] mechanism [of mesothelioma] 
out... " (that is, he had discovered how asbestos caused 
mesothelioma) (DN: Op Cit). The lecturer also met with 
Peto in Oxford. The meeting, which lasted several hours, 
was productive. Professor Peto - described by the 
lecturer as a 'world authority' on asbestos disease - 
386 
was keen to help and "... could not have been more 
obliging" (Ibid): 
[H]e was interested. We could do a deal, 
basically, in that this was the first power 
station (not to be demolished by the CEGB]. He 
was interested in 'it being stopped if it was 
incompetent and done badly, with all the 
safety laws being flouted (Ibid). 
The Professor also provided the lecturer with a 
collection of academic papers on the aetiology of 
asbestos disease. 
At the same time the lecturer contacted Southampton 
University with a view to assessing the micro-climate of 
Sands End so an attempt could be made to model the 
distribution of any dust released from the power 
station. Unfortunately, however, "[C]omputers then were 
much slower than they are now, and they couldn't do it 
quickly and easily" (Ibid). But despite the weaknesses 
of the computer technology of the day, "We did manage to 
get an order of magnitude.. . So we did get around .7 of a 
death out of the emissions" (Ibid). 
The activists also looked to advocacy and special 
interest groups for advice, especially trades unions 
like the Union of Construction, Allied Trades and 
Technicians (UCATT) who had done work on asbestos 
hazard. UCATT were also interested in the Fulham site 
because of a suspicion that the companies involved were 
using non-unionised labour. The General, Municipal, 
Boilermakers and Allied Trades Union (GMBATU) also 
provided advice through its National Health and Safety 
387 
Officer, David Gee. The fact that one of the activists 
had a knowledge of trades union interests and practices 
helped the group gain access to union expertise. (Some 
time before the Fulham Power Station debate, this same 
activist had been involved in a dispute over asbestos at 
a London factory). 
The group received advice from the Society for 
Prevention of Asbestosis and Industrial Disease (SPAID), 
an organisation founded by the widow of a victim of 
asbestos disease. As one activist put it, "There was 
this wonderful woman, who was a kind of asbestos expert" 
(VW: Op Cit). 
However, although support was received from UCATT, 
SPAID, the GMBATU and several other groups, this was 
passive advice, not assessment and active scientific 
analysis of the hazard. Consequently, the group had to 
rely on other parties, most notably the local authority, 
GLC and HSE, for technical data on possible 
environmental contamination. 
Question 13. Did you ever disagree with the arguments 
made by the group? 
The group maintained a consensus on most issues and 
enjoyed the support of most of its members for most of 
the time. That is not to say, however, that there were 
never differences of opinion or personality clashes. 
This is what one activist - the polytechnic lecturer - 
said about another: 
[Name deleted] goes over the top totally... You 
388 
have to play the political game... She was 
useless at that, really. She would be useful 
for a photocall. She was no good at getting a 
coherent strategy (DN: Op Cit). 
Another activist said she became nervous when there were 
calls for direct action: 
There was a lot of feeling around which was 
emotive, direct action type feeling - amongst 
some people. People got hyped up by things 
without checking that it was actually fact 
(TR: Op Cit). 
Emotive reactions were, however, usually quashed by the 
group - often on advice from the Law Centre, as the 
following testimony reveals: 
[One woman claimed] 'If one fibre escaped from 
there, somebody's son would breathe it in', 
which I thought was being over-reactive... So 
the message came back from the legal side, 
"Keep her mouth shut" (CD: Op Cit). 
This 'quality control' ensured that there were only 
relatively minor disagreements between group members. 
Such disagreements boiled down to "... wordings of 
leaflets and communications ... 
[and] what one should say 
to the press and television" (JG: Op Cit). 
There were certainly personality clashes between the 
three core members. But as one of them pointed out, no 
more than could be expected when three very motivated 
and strong-willed people were obliged to work together 
under great pressure over a prolonged period. 
There were also personality clashes amongst activists in 
the periphery of the group. For example, as one female 
389 
member said of an ambitious male colleague, "I'm sure 
part of his interest was to do with his own personal 
politics [i. e. personal political ambition]" (AF: Op 
Cit). (The man concerned later became a local 
councillor). 
Question 14. Were there any Joint actions with other 
groups? 
The power station campaigners acted more or less 
independently. While there were some contacts with other 
groups - like Friends of the Earth, a group in south 
west London focusing on the proposed sale of Kingston 
Power Station, and some trades unionists at an 
electrical components factory in Battersea (Morgan 
Crucibles) - the Fulham group never held any major joint 
actions with any of them. Those groups that were 
contacted never had any major input into the campaign in 
Fulham. Friends of the Earth, for example, whom one 
might have expected to have played a more prominent role 
in the campaign, provided, according to one of the core 
activists, no more than 'a bit of back-up'. In fact, the 
Sands End group probably had more help from Fulham-based 
peers of the realm than from Friends of the Earth. As 
one activist explained, "Living in Hurlingham [just to 
the west of the Wandsworth Bridge Road] are something 
like twenty members of the House of Lords, and they got 
us a lot of information about the government" (DN: Op 
Cit). (Hurlingham is, in large part, a middle and upper- 
middle class neighbourhood). 
390 
Question 15. What were the results of Your actions? 
On the question of the safety of the decontamination, 
the consensus was that the job had been done more safely 
than if no protest had been made. As one of the core 
activists put it; "We had a safer job done - I'm not 
saying that it was a safe job - than if we hadn't 
campaigned... It could only have been worse" (CD: Op 
Cit). Another said of the campaign: 
It was very successful, because the power 
station was stripped relatively cleanly and no 
other power stations were done the same way. 
They were all done by the CEGB internally (DN: 
Op Cit). 
A third, although confident that the job had been done 
"... more safely than it might have been", emphasised the 
reactive nature of the protest; " [T] hey were already in 
there. We could never get ahead of them" (VW: Op Cit). 
While the activists were confident that their efforts 
had ensured a 'safer' job, a couple were unsure as to 
exactly how safe it had been. The uncertainty was 
heightened by the lack of any standard for non-workplace 
exposure to asbestos dust. (Some considered the refusal 
of the government to set such a standard to be one of 
the few failures of an otherwise highly successful 
campaign). 
Question 16. How did you feel at the end of the 
campaign? 
There was a general feeling of relief amongst the 
activists that the episode was over. The core activists 
391 
had been under great stress during the campaign. One 
said she felt 'exhausted' at the end of it. Another, 
" [M] aking sure we did not give in first" (CD: Op Cit) , 
pushed herself to the limit of her endurance. This 
person was keeping house for two children and a husband 
at the time. 
The campaign also featured prominently in the lives of 
activists at the periphery of the group. Few in number, 
they had to work very hard to keep up with events at the 
power station, in local and in national politics. 
Consequently, when the campaign ended, some said they 
felt a sense of loss: 
[I felt] slightly bereft, because when 
anything comes to an end, you have to get back 
to reality. Some people wanted it to continue. 
They'd found a purpose, a voice (TR: Op Cit). 
Only one activist said that she had felt intimidated by 
the forces ranged against the group during the campaign. 
This person, one of the three core members, had received 
a hate letter (the only one received by a group member), 
and suspected that her telephone had been tapped at 
various times. At the end of the campaign she and her 
husband, who had also been very active, considered 
moving out of the area. (Both, in fact, remained). 
Question 17. Had your feelings about where you lived 
changed? 
Only a couple of activists said they felt differently 
about Sands End after the power station debate. one 
392 
husband and wife pair did consider leaving Sands End for 
'greener pastures'. As an activist who was very close to 
them explained: 
[Names deleted] got a phobia about this 
area... I don't think this area is any worse 
than any other. . . Where 
is this mythical place 
where you are not going to have any kind of 
pollution? (JT: Op Cit). 
But most activists felt the same about the neighbourhood 
at the conclusion of the campaign as they did before its 
commencement - they liked it and wanted to remain. One 
stated that the tennis club subsequently built on part 
of the old power station site (the Harbour Club) had 
endeared her even more to Sands End. (The Harbour Club, 
however, is hardly a community facility. Despite 
promising 'community sessions' in the early 1980s, the 
club is, today, one of the most exclusive (and security- 
conscious) in London. The Princess of Wales is a member 
(see Chapter 3)). 
Question 18. Do You think the situation could have been 
avoided? 
There was a very strong feeling that the Central 
Electricity Generating Board should have 'cleared up its 
own mess' and should not - as the activists saw it - 
have abrogated its responsibilities by handing over 
decontamination and demolition work to 'cowboys'. As one 
activist put it: 
I was annoyed with the CEGB for not clearing 
their own crap out of there before selling it 
off-They were just interested in making a 
profit (CD: Op Cit). 
393 
Another activist who commented "The CEGB should have 
made the building safe with the clearance of any 
contaminated waste", added; "My experience of them 
doesn't give me much faith for the demolition of nuclear 
power stations" (TR: Op Cit). (The partner of this 
activist, 'PR', expressed concern about rail shipments 
of nuclear waste through Sands End). 
It was commonly held amongst the activists that the CEGB 
had acted 'irresponsibly': 
[The CEGB] were culpable... They knew what was 
in the building, and, whether it was for 
cheapness or whatever... became unaware of 
these considerations once they had climbed out 
of it... and showed no regard for the local 
community and those who might be working on 
the building (JG: Op Cit). 
In this person's view, potential polluters like the CEGB 
should budget for the cost of decontaminating worked-out 
industrial capital: 
All quality businesses should cover all of 
their costs... whatever they may be. . . There is 
no entitlement to profit unless all proper 
costs are covered-and that is to do with 
staff safety, the reputation of the 
organisation and certainly the safety of 
innocents in the wider immediate community 
(Ibid). 
Despite its failure to 'clean up' after itself in 
Fulham, the CEGB was still considered by the activists 
to be the 'most competent' party to decontaminate a 
disused power station. As one activist put it, "I rely 
on them to carry out a proper job" (CD: Op Cit). It was 
394 
felt that those who had put the power station together 
were best placed to take it apart again. Another made an 
association between the general engineering competence 
of the Board and its competence to decontaminate a 
difficult site: 
[A]s far as I understand it, the CEGB are most 
responsible... They tend to over-engineer. . . To build things too well... a bit like the 
railways... Things last for a hundred years. 
But on the other hand I see nothing against 
that, really (DN: Op Cit). 
While most activists blamed the CEGB for events in Sands 
End, a few put the Board's actions in a wider political 
and economic context. As one explained: 
The CEGB had been leaned on in the new 
commercial environment to take a very hard 
commercial decision. So basically it was all 
down to the government, and when it got too 
hot for them they backed off... It was a balls 
up, really (Ibid). 
The same activist went on; "They [the CEGBI didn't want 
to sell it, as far as we understood. The government 
leaned on them to make a bit of money and also as a P. R. 
thing to show that private firms could behave more 
efficiently than these incompetent old monoliths... which 
is pure ideological rubbish". 
A couple of activists put the view that all those 
involved in events at Sands End were culpable in some 
degree. As one explained, "it was all a kind of 
interdependence of responsibilities starting at the 
government, going through the council, to the people who 
were doing the demolition" (MP: Op Cit). 
395 
Some activists picked out agencies other than the CEGB 
as contributing to the hazard. The Health and Safety 
Executive came in for especially strong criticism. As 
one activist explained; "The HSE were in their own 
little world, and it was very difficult to penetrate it 
- even for Environmental Health Officers" (JT: Op Cit). 
At the regular meetings between the local authority, 
community representatives and HSE, the Executive gave 
little away. As one activist put it, "The HSE were 
dragged there. . . They answered the questions 
but they 
didn't offer any more ... I 
don't think they were there to 
share information" (AF: Op Cit) . However, another 
activist put the HSE's perceived shortcomings in a wider 
context: 
[O]ver a period of time, certainly in the last 
fourteen years-the HSE has been a much 
reduced organisation. They are extremely thin 
on the ground. They cannot run any more to 
regular programmes of examination (JG: Op 
Cit). 
But despite such circumspection, even this activist was 
critical of the HSE's performance - especially what he 
perceived to be its 'lack of accountability': 
They have always needed shaking up in terms of 
accountability. . . They are too prepared always 
to go down the middle, whereas I think an 
accountable organisation should be able to 
assess and then take the side of one party or 
another, and then develop a case for that 
party, rather than always say that 'There are 
five fingers on one hand, and five fingers on 
the other hand' ... And as part of 
their 
philosophy it is not the norm for them to take 
people to task. . . They are always trying 'Could 
you do this, could you do that? ' (Ibid). 
396 
The same theme was picked up by another, who said; "They 
were very difficult to deal with... because they were not 
answerable... They were a sort of quango" (JT: Op Cit). 
This person - one of the three core activists - went on 
to say that in her view, the HSE "... were basically 
lying all over the place... It would have been nice to 
have got at the throat of the HSE... because they need to 
make sure things are OK... and I don't think people are 
answerable" (Ibid). Another activist compared the HSE's 
apparent insularity and lack of accountability to the 
more participative ethos of other government agencies: 
One thing the HSE doesn't have is a lay 
committee. You can be a governor of a school 
or visit prisons, but I can't find any way 
that I can have a way in to the HSE, just to 
be informed about what the HSE are doing (AF: 
Op Cit). 
Asked whether she would be able to understand the 
'technical' aspects of the HSE's work, were she to be 
allowed on site visits, she responded; "It is up to me 
to ask questions. There is nothing that exotic... I know 
that I'm not scientific, but I'd be interested... I'd 
learn" (Ibid). She was sure that the wider dissemination 
of information on site visits would strengthen 
confidence in the HSE's hazard management activities and 
would ensure greater compliance from companies; "Maybe 
if some of this information was more public some of the 
people being checked would feel a lot more concerned 
about it... " (Ibid). 
The local authority, too, came in for a certain amount 
of criticism. This criticism focused especially on its 
397 
perceived poor public relations performance during the 
early stages of the power station debate. One activist 
compared LBH&F's 'tardy' response to public anxiety over 
the demolition with the 'exemplary' behaviour of a 
drinks company facing a. poisoning scare: 
I was thinking about Perrier where they 
discovered Benzene in it. That was put forward 
as a model P. R. thing. First they admitted it. 
They gave clear information, they recalled 
everything, they did a little campaign to say 
that we are watching your interests. Everybody 
took to that, and in fact there was an 
increase in the damn sales... They did it 
competently. To catch public confidence you 
have to catch it cruick, and if you do that, no 
problem. People detect bullshit very quickly 
[My emphasis] (Op Cit). 
Others insisted that the local authority should have 
played a more pivotal - even interventionist - role in 
the power station debate; "They should have been the key 
orchestrator... as it was on their patch" (AF: Op Cit). 
Ironically, this point was made by the Community 
Development Worker - herself an employee of the errant 
local authority. (The council eventually recognised its 
poor public relations performance, and began publishing 
a 'Demolition Bulletin'. The third Bulletin is 
reproduced as Appendix 11). 
A couple of activists made the point that where a major 
industry, like the CEGB, has profitably 'milked' an 
installation for many years, that industry should be 
obliged to 'put something back into the community'. This 
should include the full repair of any environmental 
damage suffered by the locale during the period of the 
plant's operation: 
398 
It was a dirty job which needed doing... and 
which they [the CEGB] could well afford to pay 
for in that they had got the benefit out of 
the power station many hundreds of times over 
and the actual pollution clean-up is very 
small, really... (DN: Op Cit). 
Interestingly, the theme of 'putting something back in, 
underpinned the 1993/1994 debate over the future use of 
gas-contaminated land in Sands End - as may be gathered 
from this statement made by the Chairman of ARISE to 
Hammersmith and Fulham Council in 1993: 
The cost of cleansing the land at £5-12 
million is a large sum but is relatively small 
[in relation to] the long period from which it 
has produced industrial profits... It should be 
realised as a civic duty to clean the land 
(sic) ('Precis Of Matter Delivered Verbally To 
Inquiry Inspector at U. D. P. Hearing, 4th 
March, 1993'). 
The reaction to my suggestion that a Local Emergency 
Planning Committee (LEPC) might help avoid similar 
difficulties in the future, was mixed. (LEPCs originated 
in the United States as a means of involving vulnerable 
communities in risk and hazard management decisions. 
(See, for example, Hadden, S. G., A Citizen's Right To 
Know, Westview Press, US, 1989. Also, Musselman, V. C., 
Emergency Planning and Community Right To Know, VNB, US, 
1989)). The most enthusiastic reaction was; "... [S]uch 
an [emergency planning] environment produces checks, 
balances and controls from the outset, and people 
operate according to that criteria... The situation we 
have here is galloping backwards instead of forwards 
(sic)" (JG: Op Cit). The least enthusiastic reaction - 
which came in response to the question 'Would you be 
399 
interested in participating in an LEPC for Hammersmith 
and Fulham? - was; "... Not unless I was paid and it was 
down the road. .. But to do one for the whole Borough, 
forget it! " (DN: Op Cit). 
Interestingly, no one responded to the question 'Do you 
think the situation could have been avoided? ' by saying 
that a major works like the power station should not 
have been sited in a densely populated neighbourhood 
like Sands End in the first place. The view was 
expressed that even in the supposedly environmentally 
conscious Nineties, industrial developments - even in 
the heart of a city - should be considered on their 
merits. As one activist put it; "The risk has to be 
evaluated on each one" (Ibid). Another said; "It depends 
on the industry and it depends on the needs of the 
community" (CD: Op Cit). Even hazardous industries could 
be tolerated - so long as they were well managed and 
adequately policed. As one activist put it, such an 
industry would be acceptable "If it is safe... If they 
can prove there is a good external monitoring, and 
regular health checks on workers, and the workforce is 
enlightened about the risks they may be taking... " (TR: 
Op Cit) . The need for good management practices in 
potentially hazardous situations was emphasised by 
another activist: 
It is just a question of having good 
legislation and thinking it out carefully, and 
then things don't go wrong. Things go wrong, 
not when there is a lot of nasty stuff around, 
because you are bloody careful then, things go 
wrong when you are doing a routine job in 
something bog standard (DN: Op Cit). 
400 
But even for this activist, certain types of plant were 
inappropriate in urban settings; "But there shouldn't be 
anything near housing that when it goes bang it takes 
the housing out... " (Ibid). 
Question 19. Have you been involved in any industrial 
hazard debates since? 
The majority of those active in the power station debate 
played no part in subsequent local hazard campaigns. As 
one power station activist put it, "I've tended to be a 
bit of a tortoise" (TR: Op Cit). Another said, rather 
more acerbically, "Other people can do their bit" (JT: 
Op Cit). A couple of activists did visit other groups 
involved in similar asbestos hazard debates, although 
this missionary zeal evaporated after about a year - the 
time and cost burdens of travelling the country to 
advise other groups proving too great for unfunded 
activists with family responsibilities. 
One of the people involved in this follow-up activity 
did, however, find an outlet for her acquired expertise 
at the London Hazards Centre, where she served for a 
time on the Board. 
Another activist was asked to stand for the local 
council, but refused on grounds of conscience. As she 
put it; "I'm idealistic and not enough of a pragmatist" 
(VW: Op Cit) . This activist - one of the core members - 
contented herself, and placated her sponsors, by serving 
for a time on a land-use planning committee of the 
401 
London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham. 
While very few TERROR members continued their industrial 
hazard activism after the closure of the power station 
debate, all remained hazard conscious, especially of 
proximate hazards. Thus, when questioned about current 
concerns, some highlighted the issue of contaminated 
land on the old power station site; "I can't believe 
they haven't made tests of the ground there - one would 
imagine it would be fairly polluted from the power 
station" (MP: Op Cit). This individual also highlighted 
the issue of gas-contaminated land, albeit by talking 
about the old Wandsworth gas works site rather than the 
Sands End works; "Across the river there's a large 
acreage [Wandsworth Gas Works site] which has been 
declared too polluted to build on. So it occurred to me 
I hope they really had tested around here" (Ibid). 
Another commented; "Land here is so polluted... It must 
be because of the amount of stuff they've dumped on 
it.. 
. there are whole areas that are potentially very 
hazardous" (VW: Op Cit). Some also made reference to the 
transportation of nuclear waste by train through Sands 
End. As one explained, "I would bar atomic fuels, 
because it is bad enough that atomic waste goes along 
the railway line" (MP: Op Cit). 
Question 20. What are Your feelings now about living 
near major industrial plants? 
Most activists responded by saying that they would 
evaluate the situation on a case by case basis. There 
was no knee-jerk or hysterical reaction against heavy 
402 
industry. Even the Greenpeace member and admirer of 
William Morris expressed the view that "... [I]f you have 
got to have heavy industry... you have got to put up with 
the aggravation of it" (PR: Interviewed October 15, 
1993). Several were fatalistic about the prospect of 
living in close proximity to industry. As one said: 
Life is one big risk anyway... You have to get 
on with your life wherever it is... And often 
people don't have a choice (TR: Op Cit). 
Most activists emphasised the fact that the majority of 
people had little real choice as to where they lived. 
The State saw to that: 
Well for some people they would just have to 
get on with it, because if you were on 
benefit, and you said 'I'm not going [to work 
there] because I might become deaf', your 
benefit would be cut, so really your politics 
don't get a great deal of choice in that 
situation (AF: Op Cit). 
Another related theme was the perceived ubiquity of 
pollution: If pollution was everywhere, then it did not 
matter where you lived - you could never escape. As one 
activist put it, "Life is dirty, and you're not safe 
anywhere these days" (VW: Op Cit). Another said it would 
be 'very difficult' to escape pollution in today's 
world. However, on a more optimistic note, the view was 
expressed that "No problems are insoluble... They have 
cost implications which people don't like to look 
at... But any of the problems relating to heavy industry 
can be got round... 11 (PR: Op Cit). 
403 
Question 21. Are there any industrial sites in Sands 
End, between Wandsworth Bridge Road and the railway 
line, up to the King's Road, that give You cause for 
concern? 
People seemed generally unconcerned about the hazard 
potential of Sands End's remaining industries. Only one 
commented on the large British Gas low-pressure methane 
storage site adjacent to the railway line - and even he 
was relatively sanguine: "The gas [concerns me] ... But I 
understand that if gas holders go up, they just burn... " 
(DN: Op Cit). This person was even prepared to accept 
the installation of high pressure gas storage vessels 
(of the type that were targeted by the IRA in Warrington 
in 1993) on the site: "As long as they put them in the 
middle of what is quite a big site, I wouldn't be too 
bothered about it" (DN: Op Cit) . Another activist 
mentioned one of the waste transfer stations along the 
river, and another the small oil terminal adjacent to 
Wandsworth Bridge. But in general, people were happy 
with the (few) industries that remained. As one put it, 
"It's light stuff" (JT: Op Cit). 
3.2 Press and Periodical Revorting. 
3.2.1 Introduction. 
Contemporary newspaper reports on the demolition of 
Fulham Power Station included a number of statements 
made by the activists involved in the debate. 
Although presenting the arguments made by the activists 
in an unstructured format, these news reports do 
404 
nevertheless provide a useful secondary source of data 
on the views of those who agitated for a safe 
demolition. 
The news reports also provide useful background data on 
the views of the general public and other local groups 
with an interest in the demolition. These views are 
described in Sections 3.2.3 and 3.2.4. 
3.2.2 Press Reporting of the Views of TERROR Activists. 
As explained in the previous chapter, the proposed 
demolition of Fulham Power Station was announced in The 
Times on May 3,1983. The Times report prompted a number 
of TERROR members to focus on the potential risks and 
hazards of the demolition. The fears of one of the 
activists were quoted in a local newspaper on May 12: 
However carefully it is demolished, some 
asbestos is bound to get into the air... It's 
appalling that nobody knew about this (VW in 
'Families Fight Bulldozing Of Power Station', 
West London Observer, May 12,1983). 
The area of public concern quickly expanded to include 
the capabilities of those entrusted with the power 
station's decontamination and demolition. As one of the 
core activists explained to Time Out: 
We started making initial calls to check that 
everything was being done properly... But there 
is now considerable local alarm over what we 
discovered... We are not convinced that they 
know what they are doing, or that they are 
using the right machinery. It is very 
worrying, particularly as most of us have 
young children around here (CD in Charman, P., 
'Asbestos Fears In Fulham', Time Out, June 10- 
16,1983). 
405 
The same activist also expressed concern over the 
commitment of the local authority: 
Nobody at the council seems to want to admit 
to having any responsibility for the 
matter... (Ibid). 
Finally, the TERROR member rounded on the CEGB: 
This is the first time the CEGB has not 
cleared the site themselves... What is 
happening in Fulham could be the tip of a 
national scandal (Ibid). 
In a later Time Out report, a TERROR spokesperson 
highlighted the perceived 'obstructiveness' of the 
property developers, London and York Property Investment 
Company Ltd., who had repeatedly cancelled visits to the 
site by residents: 
Their attitude has been one of absolute non- 
cooperation. . . 
We were left literally standing 
at the factory gates... (Anon. in Charman, P., 
'More Asbestos Fears', Time Out, June 24-30, 
1983). 
In the aftermath of the first major emission of asbestos 
dust from the power station, one TERROR activist, 
addressing a public meeting, called on residents to 
contact the demolition company's insurers if they felt 
ill: 
If you were here the weekend of the asbestos 
leakage, and you have since felt ill, I advise 
you to write to the insurers of the 
demolishers, UK Asbestos, and tell them they 
may be to blame (JT in Caffrey, N., If You're 
Feeling Ill Claim Compensation', The Fulham 
Chronicle, July 29,1983). 
406 
The same activist ended her address with a call for 
long-term vigilance: 
We must not be complacent. Work will go on at 
the station for a 'long time - for two years. 
We must be vigilant at all times (JT in 
Caffrey, N., 'If You're Feeling Ill Claim 
Compensation', The Fulham Chronicle, July 29, 
1983). 
As the year wore on, attention shifted to the absence of 
legislation on levels of asbestos dust in the general, 
non-work environment: 
Currently all controls and standards are for 
occupational matters, for employees... But we 
are worried for people who live in our area - 
for the elderly, for children; for people who 
live here 24 hours a day, unlike able bodied 
workmen who are here only eight hours daily 
(VW in Caffrey, N., 'Mixed Welcome For New 
Asbestos Rules', The Fulham Chronicle, 
September 2,1983). 
When the possibility of a general demolition company 
being used to strip asbestos was raised, TERROR was 
quick to voice its concerns. As one of the core 
activists explained in a local newspaper: 
We are very concerned at what is happening at 
the power station. Our information is that 
Barlborough Metals plans to remove the 
asbestos next. This is a demolition firm, and 
they do not usually have personnel trained in 
the highly specialised work of asbestos 
removal (CD in more Asbestos Removals', The 
Fulham Chronicle, September 30,1983). 
407 
3.2.3 Press Reporting of the Views of the General 
Public. 
Such views were reported in the press in the form of 
'letters to the editor'. 
The first letter to be published focused on the fact 
that the residents of Sands End had no prior knowledge 
of the sale of the power station; that what residents 
needed more than jobs was access to the river; and that 
the demolition could present a number of health hazards: 
I was surprised to read in last week's issue 
that Fulham Power Station is about to be, or 
already has been, sold. 
I was also surprised to learn that the 
local residents' group, TERROR, mentioned in 
your article, knew nothing about the sale 
despite constant enquiries. 
This bothers me. I wonder what the York 
and London Development Company (sic) does 
intend to do, and why its spokesman was 
reluctant to make a statement to you. 
Jobs in this area would be very welcome 
but I think I speak for most Sands End 
residents in saying that we don't want just 
factories on this site and we don't want heavy 
industry. 
What we do want is access to the river, 
some facilities for our own use and some 
housing. We also want to be consulted on the 
future development of our neighbourhood. 
Most important, assuming that York and 
London Development intends to demolish the 
Fulham Power Station, how do they intend to go 
about it? 
It could involve not just great 
inconvenience to residents with heavy lorries 
speeding around local streets but an actual 
serious health risk from the vast amounts of 
asbestos that will have to be removed and 
disposed of. 
We must be assured before any work 
begins that all possible care will be taken to 
avoid pollution and inconvenience while the 
work is in progress and that if we have to 
suffer some inconvenience it will be 
worthwhile for the future of Sands End and its 
inhabitants (Harding, P., in 'Give Power To 
The People', West London Observer, May 19, 
1983). 
408 
A second letter in the same newspaper expressed similar 
concerns: 
If the power station is demolished, the air 
can be polluted with asbestos dust for a very 
long period. 
I therefore feel residents of Fulham 
should make council politicians of all parties 
realise that people matter - after elections 
and before party policies - where their 
environment is concerned and they should be 
consulted before any actions are taken 
(Boswell, J., in 'Pollution Risks', West 
London Observer, May 19,1983). 
Other letters highlighted the need both for caution in 
handling asbestos and consultation with the local 
community over the redevelopment of the site: 
If plans proceed as they now stand this site 
will become a purely industrial warehouse area 
cutting off entirely river access for the 
Sands End community and completely ignoring 
the wishes of local residents to have a say in 
the use of this part of Sands End. 
It seems Sands End can expect imminent 
demolition of the power station and with this 
a high level of dirt and inconvenience for the 
community for a period of three years, the 
time estimated to salvage the building. 
The work will apparently start this week 
and so residents are faced with the immediate 
problem of ensuring that this asbestos-packed 
building does not become a slow-acting time 
bomb over the area, leaking asbestos particles 
insidiously, perhaps officially undetectable 
during this long period. 
Surely the community of Sands End has 
the right to consultation with planners, 
developers and the council on such a vital 
issue? (Maggs, S., in 'Sands Of Time Run Out 
In Sands End', The Fulham Chronicle, May 20, 
1983) 
[T] he generating board are hoping to sell the 
power station off to a demolition team... 
The station is lined with asbestos and 
in its destruction masses of the deadly dust 
will be clouding the air and polluting the 
environment. 
409 
As most people now know, asbestos is a 
killer, and a nasty one, causing dreadful 
cancers both in the short and long term. It 
will affect any age group, from babies to the 
old. Obviously a demolition team does not know 
how to dismantle asbestos sheeting, as it will 
be simply crushed to the ground. 
Within one month this could be happening 
in Fulham (Bligh, C., in 'Sands Of Time Run 
Out In Sands End', - The Fulham Chronicle, May 
20,1983). 
Later in the campaign one letter writer's attention 
shifted to the absence of legislation on the management 
of asbestos hazard in the general, non-work environment, 
and the perceived inadequacies of regulatory agencies 
and representative bodies: 
As one unfortunate enough to live at present 
in the shadow of Fulham Power station the last 
month has been a nightmarish initiation into 
the realities of the demolition world and 
asbestos removal. 
We have discovered that in this matter 
the laws are virtually non-existent, moral and 
bureaucratic responsibility is conspicuous by 
its near absence, and that should the owners 
be very naughty boys they may get a derisory 
fine.... 
If this is the way the CEGB behave in 
selling off coal/oil powered power stations 
heaven help us when it comes to the selling 
off of the nuclear ones. 
Lastly, though many may not live near a 
power station, old steel works and oil 
refineries pose the same potential problem of 
asbestos removal (Anon. in 'Power Politics 2', 
Private Eye, June 17,1983). 
Similar concerns were echoed in other letters: 
Your report (Eye 3.6.1983) on the 
irresponsible demolition of the asbestos - 
riddled Fulham Power Station is a classic 
example of how those making a 'fast buck' - or 
in this case a fast million pounds - do so by 
disregarding health and safety measures. But, 
say some, that is business. 
But what are our 'protectors' - the 
factory inspectorate and environmental health 
officers doing? At the public meeting you 
described these 'protectors' were pathetic... 
410 
Until people who behave so criminally 
irresponsibly are imprisoned for their 
negligence our health and safety will depend, 
as your report indicated, on the determined 
and courageous action of 
residents/parents/workers and others. Our 
'protectors' seem fit only to pass the buck 
(Dalton, A. J. P., in 'Power Politics 2, 
Private Eye, June 17,1983). 
[A]nyone can start an asbestos removal company 
and nobody has any power to stop them until 
they have polluted the air above levels 
recommended in law. 
When the damage has already been done, 
only then can the Health and Safety Department 
stop the work. 
Apparently there are a number of power 
stations to be demolished. I therefore feel 
that all residents' groups, action groups and 
any persons within these areas or concerned 
with asbestos air pollution in London or 
elsewhere should give practical aid and help 
to the group involved... TERROR... 
The source may be known, but the damage 
to health very hard to prove, particularly 
when the contractor's work has been completed 
and they have moved on (Boswell, J., in 
'Dangers Of Knocking Down A Power Station', 
West London Observer, June 16,1983). 
3.2.4 Press Reporting of the Views of Local Groups 
(other than TERROR). 
ARISE made few press-reported interventions in the power 
station debate, although the Association's chairman was 
quoted at some length in a local paper shortly after 
news of the station's sale broke: 
We look to the Council, the GLC and other 
statutory bodies involved, to ensure the 
fullest compliance with all legal protection 
available, and to ensure full public 
consultation before any demolition work 
commences (Proffitt, D., in Bresler, K., 
'Furious Residents Up In Arms', The Fulham 
Chronicle, May 13,1983). 
The Chairman of the Hammersmith and Fulham Trades 
411 
Council was also quoted in the local press after a 
residents' meeting on the power station issue: 
If asbestos gets into your or your children's 
lungs, it could be up to 40 years before you 
start to suffer. And asbestosis causes a slow 
and lingering death... 
We are in a very serious situation. We 
need massive petitions with thousands of 
signatures; we must pack the Town Hall and 
demonstrate our concern. And we must consider 
civil disobedience. You have all been very 
nice - but you don't get far by being nice and 
gentle... 
Asbestos will go where the wind blows - 
all over London. The people of Wandsworth, 
Putney, Chelsea and Hammersmith and further 
afield are in the same danger as yourselves 
and they must be vigilant too (Martin, M., in 
Caffrey, N., 'If You're Feeling Ill Claim 
Compensation', The Fulham Chronicle, July 29, 
1983). 
3.3 Radio Recortin 
3.3.1 Introduction. 
Only one recording was kept by the group's archivist. 
This was a programme in the 'Inside London' series, 
broadcast on Radio London on July 31,1983. The three 
core members of TERROR were interviewed, together with 
David Gee of the GMBATU, John Gummer, Health and Safety 
Minister, and the HSE's Deputy Chief Inspector of 
Factories, Victor Jordan. 
3.3.2 Conflict On Air. 
The three core members of TERROR put the view that they' 
were having to do the authorities' work for them. As one 
put it, "We think it is very, very sad that people like 
us have to spend an enormous amount of time putting 
412 
pressure on them to do the job properly... " ('Inside 
London', Radio London, July 31,1983). The modus 
operandi of the HSE came in for especially strong 
criticism: 
[The HSE] have.. . said that they play a 
negative role, which means that they react 
only when something has happened - which is 
too late... (Ibid). 
However, although critical of the Executive's working 
practices, the TERROR activists were conscious of 
various mitigating circumstances. As one core member 
explained: 
I feel that the HSE have enormous 
problems... They are under-staffed and they 
don't have the proper resources to deal with 
something as complex as this, and what we have 
found is that because of this they are having 
enormous difficulties ... (Ibid). 
The funding theme was also picked up by David Gee, 
National Health and Safety Officer of the GMBATU: 
The HSE is a hard pressed organisation 
suffering at least as much as others from 
government cuts ... (Ibid). 
Gee emphasised the need for a control limit for general, 
non-workplace exposure to asbestos dust: 
There needs to be a new control limit designed 
to protect the general public. . . The current limits that are available have been based on 
the needs of people who work in asbestos 
factories... They are completely irrelevant to 
the needs of the general public. . . We should 
be 
protected by an environmental control limit 
that is, generally speaking, 1/40th the level 
of that which workers can be exposed to inside 
factories... (Ibid). 
413 
For his part, Victor Jordan, Deputy Chief Inspector of 
Factories, implied that he would prefer to see disused 
plant decontaminated by the CEGB rather than by a third 
party: 
From our point of view it would be very much 
easier in the programme of demolition of power 
stations... if we were dealing with just one 
person about asbestos stripping... (Ibid). 
Jordan also emphasised the HSE's difficulties in meeting 
its statutory responsibilities on an ever-reducing 
budget: 
I operate on reduced resources and the amount 
I can put into a job such as Fulham Power 
Station has to be balanced against other 
demands on us (Ibid). 
At the end of the programme, John Gummer was asked why 
it took, in the interviewer's words; "A protest by a 
group of housewives in Fulham to get a significant 
change in CEGB policy? " In his response, John Gummer 
would not accept that the 'housewives' had played any 
part in the volte face of the CEGB and government on 
power station sales: 
What changed CEGB policy was the work of the 
elected member of parliament and the London 
Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham (Ibid). 
John Gummer would not concede that the CEGB, as the 
polluter, had a moral responsibility to clear up its own 
mess: 
414 
The CEGB has agreed to take on further 
responsibilities than it need [in 
decontaminating power stations] either morally 
or in front of the law. [My emphasis] (Ibid). 
This statement, although factually correct, concealed 
the fact that the CEGB, far from taking on a new 
responsibility, was simply re-adopting a responsibility 
it had been forced to abandon by a government determined 
to privatise as much of the public sector as possible. 
The impression given by Gummer, however, was that the 
CEGB, motivated by paternalistic concern and 
beneficence, had agreed to act outside its remit. 
The radio programme also included an interview with an 
'asbestos sufferer' -a retired asbestos lagger dying 
from asbestosis. Interestingly, no-one interviewed in 
the programme mentioned that the health effect most 
likely to be seen in Fulham was not asbestosis, but 
mesothelioma. 
4 Conclusion. 
Each of the nine members of TERROR who were interviewed 
imparted a large amount of information on the power 
station debate. Without exception, they were thoughtful 
and articulate in their responses, often making 
connections between events that the interviewer could 
not have forseen (for example, the contrasting of 
Perrier's successful public contrition with the local 
authority's awkward early attempts at public reassurance 
on the demolition). 
It must be re-emphasised, however, that this chapter 
415 
recounts the views of only a minute sample of the local 
population at the time of the demolition. 
416 
Chapter 8 
The Fulham Power Station Debate: 
Themes and Characteristics. 
1 Introduction. 
This chapter focuses on the arguments developed by those 
Sands End residents who actively opposed the mode of 
decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power Station, 
and on the characteristics of the subsequent campaign. 
The extent to which socio-economic factors mediate and 
influence risk perceptions will be examined in detail in 
the next chapter, Chapter 9, which is the conclusion to 
the Thesis, although the question is (unavoidably) 
addressed briefly below (in Section 3). 
2 Themes of the Debate. 
2.1 The Construction of a Hazard. 
The original Fulham Power Station was essentially a 
local product - financed, built and run by the close- 
knit community of Fulham. As such, it was a source of 
prosperity and pride to a traditionally poor 
neighbourhood (see Chapter 3). 
It is reasonable to assume that those native to Sands 
End would have had some awareness of the materials used 
in its construction and operation, especially as ... A 
lot of the families worked in the power station" (TR: 
Interviewed September 28,1993). Of the two power 
station activists native to Sands End, one was certainly 
417 
aware that large amounts of asbestos had been used in 
the building. As she explained, "They played with the 
asbestos like it was snow when they were mixing it up" 
(Ibid). What is most interesting about this person's 
reminiscences, however, is that asbestos hazard was 
never an issue for her - despite the fact that her 
father worked at the power station (albeit not directly 
with asbestos). As she put it: 
You know, if someone said 'cyanide', 
immediately alarm bells would ring. . . But you had asbestos on your ironing board, for God's 
sake, and it used to crumble, and you never 
thought any more about it (Ibid). 
What did concern her about the coal, and later oil- 
burning power station, was the smoke it produced: 
Your washing would get covered if the wind was 
in the wrong direction... It was very 
dusty... (Ibid). 
The second 'native' activist also failed to identify 
asbestos hazard as a concern during the power station's 
operation - despite her recollection that, "In the old 
days, people used to come out covered in white from 
asbestos dust and walk through the streets" (CD: 
Interviewed September 17,1993). This resident, like 
others, worried only about the significant smoke 
pollution produced by the station: 
Everybody commented on the smut and the smoke. 
People talked about it. I was always very 
aware (Ibid). 
Similarly, those activists newly arrived in Sands End 
418 
were unconcerned about living in close proximity to a 
power station. They were concerned, however, about the 
general neglect they saw, about the lack of open space 
and greenery, about dangerous 'rat runs', and about the 
fact that a derelict power station made access to the 
river impossible. Not one of the activists who moved in 
to Sands End saw the power station as a time bomb' -a 
potential health and ecological disaster just waiting to 
happen. 
One cannot help but wonder, of course, just how many of 
the newcomers were aware that the building contained 
hundreds of tons of friable asbestos. After all, unlike 
the neighbourhood's long-term residents, they had 
(probably) never worked, or known someone who had worked 
in a power station. Had they known about the asbestos, 
they might either not have settled in Sands End, or 
might have campaigned even before the CEGB sold the 
building. 
As it was, the power station hardly seemed to feature in 
the gentrifiers' 'construction' of the neighbourhood. 
Rather, the impressions were of a 'cosy' neighbourhood, 
of an 'anachronistic' locale, of a 'cosmopolitan' group 
of residents, or of a 'convenient' location for 
commuting into town. (The neighbourhood's 'convenience' 
for the West End was used as a selling point for the 
Regent on the River development. See Chapter 3). It was 
almost as if the power station - whose massive structure 
dwarfed the neighbourhood's terraced properties (see 
Appendix 9 and Appendix 12) - had become invisible to 
them. (This phenomenon has been seen elsewhere: In Port 
419 
Talbot, South Wales, for example, where residents living 
in the shadow of one of the largest steelworks in Europe 
complained about the 'visual disamenity' of a proposed 
hill-top wind farm (South Wales Evening Post, December 
21,1993). The steelworks, built in the 1920s and 
occupying a huge site in the heart of the community, is 
an emphatic physical presence and emits dust, soot, 
odours, noise and light virtually 24 hours a day). 
Fulham Power Station, and the potential hazards within, 
only became 'visible' when the building's sale was 
announced in The Times on May 3rd, 1983. And even then, 
initial concern focused not on asbestos hazard, but on 
the dangers of demolishing such a large building so 
close to housing, and on the nuisance resulting from 
contractors' lorries using the neighbourhood's narrow 
streets. (It was the initial concern about traffic that 
brought TERROR, primarily a roads campaigning group, 
into the power station debate). 
Presented with the fait accompli of the sale, what the 
activists strived for was the 'safest possible' 
decontamination and demolition. The activists' 
increasing alarm at what they saw as incompetence in 
both high and low places led to the emergence of 
asbestos hazard as the main focus of their concern (the 
activists, at least, were convinced that asbestos did 
pose a potential threat to health). The hazard, dormant 
for so many years, was in danger of being needlessly 
activated by what the activists saw as the cynicism and 
profit-seeking of the government and CEGB, incompetence 
420 
of the HSE, initial disinterest of the local authority, 
relative indifference of the two local councillors and 
inexperience, negligence and avarice of the contractors. 
2.1.1 Conclusion. 
Before the sale of Fulham Power Station, few of those 
residents who later became active in the campaign looked 
upon the power station as a hazard. They were more 
concerned with the area's socio-economic, visual, 
environmental and amenity problems. If they knew about 
the asbestos, then it was seen to represent no more than 
a latent hazard. The power station's sale and planned 
demolition changed all that. The 'wonder mineral' 
became, at least for the activists, the 'demon on the 
doorstep'. 
2.2 A Question of Attribution. 
There was a very strong feeling amongst the power 
station activists that the CEGB had a moral 
responsibility to 'clean up its own mess'. It was felt 
that the CEGB, in selling off still-contaminated power 
stations, had abrogated its responsibilities to the 
community at large. A number of activists expressed the 
view that those who profit from industrial activity 
should make good any damage or disturbance caused to the 
environment when those activities cease. 
It was recognised, however, that the CEGB's regrettable 
conduct might have been influenced by other parties - 
specifically the government of the day. Thus it was felt 
421 
that the Thatcher government's enthusiasm for the 
private sector may have influenced the Board's decision 
to 'sell on' decontamination and demolition 
responsibilities to private contractors. 
But whatever the circumstances of the decision, it was 
the CEGB that became the focus of public opprobrium, 
with the Board's Chairman, Sir Walter Marshall, emerging 
as the bete noire of the Fulham campaigners. 
It should be noted, however, that despite its fall from 
grace over the power station issue amongst the 
activists, the CEGB's general reputation for engineering 
excellence remained untarnished. It was felt that the 
CEGB offered the best solution to the difficult problem 
of power station decontamination. And even if the work 
were subcontracted, the power station campaigners 
believed that CEGB supervision would ensure a more 
thorough job. In other words, despite the CEGB's conduct 
over the Fulham sale, the campaigners remained convinced 
that a public utility would be more likely to act in the 
public interest than a private concern. 
The CEGB was not the only actor singled out for 
criticism. Virtually every public and private interest 
subsequently involved with the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station was criticised. 
This criticism began early in the campaign when the 
public first became aware of the sale and proposed 
redevelopment of the power station site. Residents were 
annoyed that they found out about the sale not through 
the local authority or other responsible public body, 
422 
but through the national press. The almost accidental 
revelation of the disposal of Fulham Power Station - for 
many years a source of pride and prosperity to the 
people of Sands End - caused great consternation. There 
was a feeling that those in authority, by not 
communicating with Sands End residents over the sale, 
had betrayed a trust. Consequently, the local authority 
became the initial focus of the activists' anxiety and 
anger. The London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham was 
condemned for its ignorance of the sale, and for its 
subsequent (but relatively short-lived) equivocation. As 
one activist put it, "It was obvious that if you left it 
with the Council to go forward, I'm sure that they 
wouldn't have bothered" (AF: Interviewed October 21, 
1993). 
Politicians, too, were condemned, both for their initial 
lack of interest in the sale and subsequent antipathy 
towards the activists. Even the two local councillors - 
elected in May 1982 with votes significantly greater 
than their nearest rivals - appeared unmoved by the 
possibility of a major environmental disaster. Some 
residents wondered whether their cynicism and 
disinterest reflected their very comfortable position in 
the recent polls. (As cabinet minister Francis Pymm 
noted (to his political cost) in the 1980s, a large 
majority does not necessarily produce an inclusive and 
attentive politics) . Some activists held the Borough's 
councillors in very low regard. One (actually an 
employee of the Borough), described them as "useless" 
(Ibid). Another described the two Labour ward 
423 
councillors as "Much too weak" (MP: Interviewed 
September 27,1993). 
The decontamination and demolition contractors were 
condemned for their inexperience, uncooperativeness and 
reticence. 
The HSE was criticised for its perceived lack of 
commitment to a difficult decontamination and 
demolition, for its aloofness, for its reticence in 
meetings with the public, and even for its basic working 
method - essentially the post-hoc investigation of 
misdemeanours and the requirement that parties take 
(only) 'reasonably practicable' precautions against 
mishap. (To be completely fair to the HSE, however, its 
dismissive attitude towards the general public was not 
untypical of government departments and quangos. As the 
Joseph Rowntree Foundation has noted; "Quangos [like the 
HSEI view accountability largely in terms of obligations 
to government rather than to customers or citizens" (The 
Governance Gap: Quangos and Accountability, 1994)). 
Finally the government was criticised for not setting an 
airborne asbestos contamination limit for the general, 
non-work environment, for not having a licensing scheme 
for asbestos removal contractors, and for the perceived 
inadequacy of the 1969 Asbestos Regulations, especially 
the level of fines available to the courts. 
However, although critical of the various parties 
involved in the sale, decontamination and demolition of 
the power station, it should be remembered that the 
424 
activists always sought to explain the often bizarre 
behaviour of the CEGB, HSE and others through an 
examination of the wider social, economic and political 
context in which these agencies operated. The CEGB, for 
example, although vilified by the protesters, was seen 
to be a victim of a privatisation-obsessed government 
(Between 1979 and 1987, the state sector was cut by a 
third (Childs, Op Cit, p. 210)). Likewise the HSE, 
heavily criticised for not devoting more resources to 
the Fulham demolition, was also seen to be a victim of 
government dogma - this time concerning the reduction at 
all costs of the public sector borrowing requirement. 
(In the four years prior to the demolition of Fulham 
Power Station, the HSE's budget had been cut by 30%- 
(I Inside London', Op Cit). The continuing cuts in HSE 
funding have been called "An attack... on the role and 
effectiveness of the HSE" (The Guardian, November 24, 
1993)). 
The activists' circumspection was also evident in their 
attitude to the material at the centre of the dispute - 
asbestos. While considered by the activists to pose a 
potential long term threat to health, the response to 
that threat was never extreme - as judged against 
institutionalised forms of political activity. Reactions 
considered by the leaders of the group to be over- 
emotional were filtered out with the aid of the Law 
Centre. As one activist put it, "We had to be careful 
what we said... (JT: Interviewed October 11,1993). 
Calls for direct action (a form of protest anathema to 
many politicians) were politely listened to, but never 
425 
heeded - even when they came from no less a figure than 
the Chairman of the Hammersmith and Fulham Trades 
Council: 
[W]e must pack the Town Hall and demonstrate 
our concern. And we must consider civil 
disobedience. You have all been very nice - 
but you don't cret far by being nice and 
crentle [My emphasis] (Caffrey, N., ' If You're 
Feeling Ill Claim Compensation', The Fulham 
Chronicle, July 29,1983). 
The irony of the latter part of his invocation is 
noteworthy, for despite their 'gentility' the activists 
did succeed in reversing the CEGB's sales policy. 
The activists' rationality was again demonstrated in a 
'health scare' some years after the demolition. One of 
the core activists received a letter concerning a local 
child who had developed a brain tumour. The letter 
stated that the tumour might be linked to the release of 
asbestos dust during the demolition of the power 
station. The core activist, drawing on her extensive 
acquired knowledge of asbestos-related disease, defused 
the situation by explaining politely, but firmly, that 
"The only [cancer] that is attributable is mesothelioma. 
Unless that's been diagnosed, we've got no case" (CD: Op 
Cit) . The activist, secure 
in her belief that "... We 
fought a campaign that was realistic and was not 
scaremongering... " (Ibid), was determined to distance 
herself and the group from such ill-founded speculation. 
The restraint and integrity demonstrated by the protest 
group allowed it to present coherent and above all 
practical ideas to those who would listen. Realising 
426 
that they had no chance of actually halting the 
decontamination and demolition, the activists attempted 
to ensure that those involved did the 'safest possible' 
job. According to one of the core activists, this 
approach met with some success: 
We had a safer job done - I'm not saying that 
it was a safe job - than if we hadn't 
campaigned... It could only have been worse 
(Ibid). 
(Of course, to describe the group's conduct as 
'responsible', 'restrained' and 'rational', is to judge 
it by contemporary norms of acceptable political 
behaviour. Should direct action ever be considered a 
legitimate - and even optimal - form of political 
expression, then one might feasibly describe the group's 
conservative methods as 'irrational' and 
'irresponsible'). 
The group's response to the asbestos issue was tempered 
not only by mores of 'acceptable political behaviour' 
(as articulated, for example, by the Law Centre and by 
the Borough's Environmental Health chief, Bruce Cova), 
but also by its members' familiarity with the material 
in the home, and by the scientific research done by one 
group member. 
Several activists had used the material in the domestic 
environment for many years - without any apparent ill 
effects. Indeed, the husband of one activist had worked 
closely with the material over a prolonged period (in 
the building trade), again without any apparent ill 
427 
effects. The views of the group's 'science expert' - the 
chemistry lecturer/researcher - may also have exerted a 
moderating influence on its actions. His calculation 
that fugitive emissions would cause at most .7 of a 
death was hardly a recipe for public hysteria (although 
the calculation of a less-than-whole death may have 
caused some confusion). 
To some degree activists relativised the asbestos danger 
within a wider hazard framework. Perhaps the least 
worried activist was the chemistry lecturer, whose day 
to day work with dangerous chemicals left him relatively 
unconcerned about the (in his view) very slight risk 
presented by airborne asbestos. As he put it, "As I was 
handling chemicals that were lethal at the time, I 
wasn't particularly bothered-If you spilled [these 
chemicals] on your skin, you were a gonner. You handled 
them in a glove box" (DN: Interviewed November 24, 
1993). The chemistry lecturer was not alone in putting 
the asbestos danger in a wider hazard context, as this 
testimony demonstrates: 
I didn't have any strong feelings about it in 
the sense that there are many other things 
which affect our health, and working in a 
hospital I was very much aware of 
them... Asbestos... is not a major killer in 
this country. . . As 
far as the power station 
itself was concerned, there are so many other 
things that affect our health - car 
pollution... cars themselves. I didn't live in 
fear of it (PR: Interviewed October 15,1993). 
Throughout the campaign, the group emphasised the need 
for effective risk and hazard management. Group members 
resented their exposure to unnecessary risks and hazards 
428 
resulting from the inefficiency of government agencies 
(both central and local) and of private contractors. 
The group's demand for a threshold limit for general, 
non-workplace exposure to asbestos dust typified its 
pragmatic approach. Judging that the absolute 
elimination of the hazard would be almost impossible to 
achieve, the group lobbied instead for a 'safe' level of 
exposure. This eschewing of absolutism in favour of 
negotiative amelioration exemplified the activists' 
practical approach to the issue of asbestos hazard (an 
approach embarked upon in the context of the HSE's 
dictum of 'reasonable practicability'). 
(It should be noted, however, that although the 
activists were 'practical' and 'rational', they were far 
from unemotional. On the contrary, they were driven by a 
strong concern for the health of their respective 
families. (One, a native to Sands End, was also 
concerned about the health of the community at large). 
It was this emotional engagement that motivated them to 
work such long hours on the campaign). 
The circumspection of group members was further 
evidenced in their views on general environmental 
pollution, the consensus being that the pervasiveness of 
pollution meant that one might as well 'stay put and 
make the best of it' I. No one imagined there to be some 
remote, untarnished, latter-day Garden of Eden waiting 
to be colonised by the environmentally dispossessed. The 
ubiquity of pollution rendered the notion of an 
environmental lifeboat obsolete. Or as one activist put 
429 
it: 
Life is dirty, and you're not safe anywhere 
these days (VW: Interviewed October 5,1993). 
A second activist noted the specific dangers of modern 
agricultural technology: 
It's not only the factory that is 
dangerous... there are all sorts of pollutants 
in the countryside (AF: Op Cit). 
The circumspection of group members also showed in their 
views on whether heavy industry should be allowed to 
locate in major conurbations. Most said they would weigh 
the costs and benefits of any proposed development 
before forming an opinion. Even heavy industry might be 
acceptable if it was responsibly managed and monitored, 
and if the staff were well trained and fully informed of 
any risks inherent in the activity (TR: Op Cit). This 
view is typical of the activists' concern that they 
should not be exposed to any unnecessary risks through 
either the secrecy, reticence, indifference or 
incompetence of 'responsible authorities'. 
Despite the hostility of many of those involved in the 
project, the activists established and maintained 
meaningful relationships with several agencies, 
including the local authority and HSE. The campaigners 
even struck up a brief relationship with the Chairman of 
the CEGB. Thus when a delegation presented a statement 
of concerns at the CEGB's London headquarters, Lord 
Marshall himself descended to the building's foyer to 
accept the statement on behalf of the Board. Marshall 
430 
was quite happy to do this - and be photographed in the 
act of recognition (or contrition, in some peoples' 
eyes) . The resulting 
impactful photograph was later 
printed in several London newspapers. 
The face to face meeting between Marshall and the 
campaigners was a startling moment in the debate - very 
much a case of David meets Goliath: 
They thought there was going to be a whole 
band of yobboes coming because they had police 
outside, which was quite ridiculous... And then 
we all came up... all us women... And I had this 
statement with this little boy... Eventually 
they got Marshall to come down... He obviously 
wondered what he was going to have to face, 
and all he had to face was me with this little 
boy... (MP: Op Cit). 
Interestingly, while Marshall was willing to publicly 
acknowledge the role played by the Fulham group in the 
debate over power station sales, and while other 
agencies (e. g. the HSE and local authority) discussed 
policy and procedure with the group, John Gummer - as an 
MP, directly accountable to the electorate - conceded 
nothing to the 'Fulham housewives' in the government's 
volte face over power station sales policy. Indeed he 
seemed determined not to acknowledge their existence, as 
this exchange with the interviewer on the 'Inside 
London' special illustrates: 
[Interviewer] It would seem to some people 
that it took a protest by a group of 
housewives in Fulham to get a significant 
change in... policy, would that be fair? 
[John Gummer] What changed CEGB policy was the 
work of the elected member of parliament and 
the London Borough of Hammersmith and Fulham 
('Inside London', Op Cit). 
431 
At no time during the interview did John Gummer mention 
the Fulham group by name, although he did proffer the 
innuendo-laden view that "... There has been a great deal 
of scaremongering... "('Inside London', Op Cit). 
2.2.1 Conclusion. 
As far as the power station campaigners were concerned, 
the asbestos used at the plant presented a hazard to the 
community only because the decontamination and 
demolition had been grossly mismanaged by the CEGB, 
contractors, HSE and others. The campaigners held the 
view that the health threat presented by asbestos dust 
had been needlessly magnified by the incompetence of 
others. Had the HSE, local authority, contractors et al 
behaved competently, and had the government ensured that 
there were appropriate standards in place for them to 
work to, the residents would have been much happier 
about the demolition. Thus the emphasis of the protest 
was very much on the safe management of asbestos hazard. 
While the activists could come to terms with the dangers 
inherent in the mineral, they could not accept being 
exposed to unnecessary risk through the incompetent 
management and execution of the project. Consequently, 
in allocating blame for the situation, the activists 
focused not on those who had initially installed the 
asbestos at the power station, nor indeed upon 
subsequent CEGB managements for not replacing it with a 
safe (or at least less dangerous) substitute, but on 
those who (in the activists' belief) had mishandled the 
432 
decontamination and demolition. None of those involved 
with the project were considered by the activists to 
have behaved in a responsible or accountable manner 
(although the local authority did, to a certain degree, 
redeem itself). This lead to a loss of trust, and to the 
construction - both literally and in the public's mind - 
of a hazard. 
2.3 Responsibility, Accountability, Trust. 
Three themes - responsibility, accountability and trust 
- dominated the activists' discourse on the power 
station sale, decontamination and demolition. None of 
the parties concerned with the redevelopment of Fulham 
Power Station were deemed by the activists to have 
behaved responsibly. None (except, perhaps, for the 
local authority), were deemed accountable. Consequently, 
the activists found themselves unable to trust those 
whose job it was to safeguard the public interest. Both 
the CEGB, a public utility funded from taxation and 
answerable to Parliament, and HSE were condemned by the 
activists as unaccountable and insensitive agencies 
indifferent to the group's concerns (although the HSE 
did consult with the protest group during the latter 
stages of the decontamination and demolition). Local 
councillors were felt to be indifferent to the concerns 
of residents, although local authority officers did 
eventually listen to the community. The property 
developers and contractors professed interest in local 
views, but ultimately pursued their own agendas. And the 
responsible Minister (John Gummer) refused even to 
433 
officially acknowledge the existence of a protest group 
(see 2.2, above). In such circumstances, concerned 
residents, feeling they were being manipulated by forces 
beyond their control, decided to challenge the status 
quo by demanding consultation. (Interestingly, in 1985, 
the year following the demolition of Fulham Power 
Station, the Health and Safety Commission urged the HSE 
to be more open in its transactions: "The legitimate 
desire by the public to know more extends not just to 
its own protection but to satisfaction that all that can 
reasonably be done to reduce risks or pollution is being 
done. 
* . Members of the public need to 
be reassured 
that. . . the relevant 
health and safety authorities are 
working efficiently and effectively to minimise the 
risks to them" (Discussion Document: Access to Health 
and Safety Information by Members of the Public, HSC, 
1985) . It 
is just possible that the HSE's bad publicity 
(in both the local and national press) over the 
demolition of Fulham Power Station may have influenced 
this initiative). 
Activists also demanded that those entrusted with the 
decontamination and demolition should begin behaving 
'responsibly'. While some, notably the local authority, 
were judged to have heeded this message, most were felt 
to have let the public down. 
There is, of course, a certain irony in the activists' 
demands for greater accountability and responsibility 
from politicians, agencies and institutions. For the 
activists themselves were conspicuously unaccountable to 
434 
the people of Sands End (unlike the Association of 
Residents in Sands End, which, although criticised by 
TERROR for its 'passivity' and 'conventionalism', at 
least held elections to its Management Committee (see 
Chapter 4)). The members appointed themselves as 
community guardians of public health and safety. There 
were no elections to the protest group (or, within the 
group, to its three-strong 'core'). There were no 
invitations to non-group members to attend policy 
meetings. There was no publicly accessible campaign 
office: meetings were held in the private homes of the 
three core activists. There were few links with formal, 
democratically accountable bodies. There was open 
hostility within the group to any attempt to introduce a 
formal constitution: such 'red tape' was anathema to the 
campaigners, who were wary of compromising the group's 
'flexibility' and 'responsiveness'. When one group 
member, a Labour Party activist, attempted to put the 
group on a more formal footing by giving it a set of 
(simple) procedures and a basic constitution, he met 
with overwhelming opposition. As one member put it: 
[Name deleted] was an old-fashioned trade 
unionist/political animal. . . Me tried to dominate TERROR meetings and tried to make 
things formal.. . 
but there wasn't time for 
that... it didn't really matter.. . But 
[name 
deleted] was on about being quorate ... (AF: Op 
Cit). 
The membership of the group remained the same throughout 
the long campaign. There were no new members. There were 
no co-optees. It could be said that the group swiftly 
became - albeit unconsciously -a cabal. Furthermore, 
435 
the group itself exhibited a certain factionalism, being 
dominated by the three 'core' members. The existence of 
this 'group within a group' caused some resentment 
amongst other group members with a longer history of 
political activism. As one member, a Labour Party and 
Trades Union activist, put it: 
I might well have been prone to say 'Load of 
stupid bloody local housewives. What do they 
really know about it? They have no experience 
of what has been happening in Docklands [this 
person had worked in Tower Hamlets]. I have 
been scanning this for years. I know what the 
bastards are up to... '. But they found their 
own way, and didn't want the local Labour 
Party dominating it... 
They heard what you said. They didn't 
always believe it... but in their own time, 
very often a couple of weeks down the line, 
people saw the point ... (JG: Interviewed 
October 23,1993). 
Another member, however, thought it commendable that the 
three core members - all previously politically inactive 
women - were doing things their own way: 
(I ]t was a growing period for ' womens' 
lib' ... and I was used, 
from my days in the 
Communist Party and Trades Union movements, to 
men organising campaigns... This could have 
underlined the way I felt that it was nice for 
women to get together and do something 'off 
their own bat' (PR: Op Cit). 
Of course, the terms 'responsible' and 'accountable' are 
difficult for another reason: namely that they can be 
highly subjective concepts. That is, behaviour 
considered 'irresponsible' by one party, may well be 
considered responsible by another. Take, for example, 
the chemicals plant that pollutes its environs. To local 
residents, this behaviour may be deemed 'irresponsible'. 
436 
But to plant managers, saving money on pollution control 
equipment to maximise profits may, in the context of the 
corporate objective to maximise returns to shareholders, 
be considered highly responsible behaviour. Such 
behaviour, to the extent that it safeguards jobs, may 
also be considered responsible by the workforce and/or 
local politicians. Indeed, it may also be considered 
responsible by workers' families (see Francis, R. S., 
Journal of Applied Psychology, 1983,13,4, p. 312), 
opening up the possibility of a community dividing 
against itself on the basis of diametrically opposed 
subjective concepts of 'social responsibility'. 
In terms of the Fulham Power Station debate, the CEGB, 
for example, considered it's behaviour highly 
responsible: by selling on its decontamination and 
demolition responsibilities it aimed to minimise its 
liabilities and maximise its returns. As a public 
utility, this could only be to the general public good, 
with the augmented returns being used either for new 
capital projects or given to the Treasury to fund other 
public services. The owners of the various 
decontamination and demolition companies involved in the 
project were, by cutting health and safety corners, 
merely pursuing the largest profit - the chief 
responsibility of any private company. As one - albeit 
'left' - publication has put it: 
Corporations define success in two fundamental 
ways: by the growth of assets and the rate of 
profit. These two goals take precedence over 
concerns of the community... in which the 
corporation does business (New 
Internationalist, August 1993, p. 22). 
437 
Of course, the events surrounding the decontamination 
and demolition of Fulham Power Station took place 
against the backloth of the most 'radical' Conservative 
government for decades -a government, according to the 
New Internationalist, obsessed with maximising private 
profit and personal wealth: 
The underlying agenda, pushed at every turn, 
[was] the encouragement of self interest. The 
guiding principle of the New Right [was] that 
the greatest public good (would] be achieved 
by every individual looking after their own 
best interests. It [believed] that greed or 
financial self-interest [was] the very engine 
of progress, and that human development and 
technological advance [had] been achieved only 
by the endeavours of millions of individuals 
competing against each other for more wealth 
and status. As Ivan Boesky said: 'it's okay to 
be greedy now' (New Internationalist, October 
1988, p. 5). 
Accepting this (perhaps somewhat polemical) view, it is 
possible that such mores legitimised the activities of 
the property developer, decontamination and demolition 
companies, and even of the CEGB. 
By the end of the campaign only the local authority had 
(partially) redeemed itself in the activists' eyes. The 
other parties - the CEGB, property developers, 
contractors, HSE and central government - were 
considered by the activists to have failed the 
neighbourhood of Sands End and to have needlessly 
endangered public health. 
A prominent feature of the activists' discourse on the 
power station decontamination and demolition was the 
perceived untrustworthiness of most of the public and 
438 
private parties involved. The erosion of trust in 
authority began at an early stage, with the activists 
learning of the sale of the building not from local 
politicians or officials, but from a national newspaper. 
There had been no consultation with the community by any 
party. The subsequent perceived 'indifference' of public 
and private parties, and emissions of asbestos dust 
confirmed to the activists (if not also the general 
public) that those involved with the sale, 
decontamination and demolition of the power station were 
'untrustworthy'. Although relatively few, emissions of 
asbestos dust were especially harmful to the reputations 
of the various companies involved in the scheme. As 
Slovic explains, although a company may act within the 
law for the majority of the time, a single breach of 
regulation (or, perhaps even of public expectation) can 
have a disastrous effect on a company's public image. 
Negative events are magnified through "the asymmetry 
principle": 
When it comes to winning trust, the playing 
field is not level. It is tilted towards 
distrust, for each of the following reasons: 
1. Negative (trust-destroying) events are more 
visible or noticeable than positive (trust- 
building) events... Positive events.. . more 
often are fuzzy or indistinct... 2. When events 
do come to our attention, negative (trust- 
destroying) events carry much greater weight 
than positive events (Slovic, P., Perceived 
Risk, Trust and Democracy, Risk Analysis, Vol 
13, No. 6,1993, p. 677). 
Although there were a number of scientifically confirmed 
releases of asbestos dust from the site, for the 
majority of the time the decontamination and demolition 
439 
proceeded without incident. Because of 'the asymmetry 
principle', however, periods of safe, incident-free 
decontamination and demolition passed largely unnoticed. 
Certainly the activists focused only on incidents of 
contamination (as would be expected, given the group's 
raison d'etre). 
Regarding reporting of events, it is fair to say that 
the local press devoted significantly more space to 
negative events at the power station site than to 
positive events. 
The activists lost faith in public authorities very 
early on in the debate. The fact that only one agency 
(the local authority) was considered by the activists to 
have partially redeemed itself would seem to confirm 
Slovic's observation that "Trust is fragile... It can be 
destroyed in an instant - by a single mishap or mistake. 
[O]nce trust is lost, it may take a long time to rebuild 
it to its former state" (Ibid). The HSE, for example, 
despite modifying its 'high handed' attitude towards the 
public, never redeemed itself. One activist regretted 
the fact that the group disbanded before it had a chance 
"To get at the throat of the HSE" (JT: Op Cit). 
Of course, it is quite possible that the various parties 
involved in the power station sale, decontamination and 
demolition had lost the confidence of the general public 
long before the events of 1982/1983. In his 1994 book 
Beyond Left and Right, Giddens asserts that institutions 
can no longer assume public trust. Rather, trust, in a 
conspicuously less deferential epoch, has to be earned. 
440 
(This new manifestation of trust he calls 'active trust' 
(Ibid, p. 14)). Assuming the 'decline of deference' to be 
a social trend with some history, it is possible that 
the people of Sands End had lost faith in authority long 
before the May 3rd announcement in The Times. 
3 Characteristics of the Debate. 
3.1 The Demonstrably Risk Conscious. 
It is noteworthy that the power station campaign was led 
by a group numbering no more than a dozen. Out of this 
number, only two activists were native to Sands End. The 
remainder were relative newcomers. 
Although the several public meetings organised by TERROR 
were well attended and supportive, there was never any 
possibility of TERROR's campaign growing into a mass 
protest over the behaviour of those involved in the 
decontamination and demolition. Most residents were only 
too willing to let the dozen-strong cabal get on with 
it. As one activist explained: 
I found people singularly apathetic in this 
street.. . That always surprised me... Some 
people in the street were quite apathetic to 
what was going on at the power station (MP: Op 
Cit). 
(This activist, the wife of a well-known writer and 
historian, was comfortably off by the standards of the 
day) . 
And another said: 
Environmental issues weren't 'in' at that 
441 
time.. . There were fads - damp was in, at that 
time [i. e. rising and penetrating damp in old 
and poorly maintained houses] ... Asbestos 
wasn't really an issue... Environmental things 
weren't an issue in this country then (AF: Op 
Cit). 
(The neighbourhood's Housing Action Area status (see 
Chapter 3, section 2.2) both articulated and re-focused 
public concern about sub-standard housing. That is, it 
reflected and propelled the local political agenda). 
A third activist became quite disenchanted with what she 
saw as public apathy: 
An awful lot of people don't want to 
bother. 
. In the end we got quite 
fed up (JT: 
Op Cit). 
Other publics, she felt, would not have been so 
apathetic: 
[In Greece] when one tree falls down, they are 
all out putting it back up... They are all 
taking responsibility. . . We 
have lost that 
responsibility for putting it back up (Ibid). 
Her conclusion was that "The British don't seem to rouse 
easily": 
Basically, people just want to get on with 
their lives.... It is disenchanting (Ibid). 
(This activist was, at the time of the power station 
debate, an artist). 
The activists' views on the great British public' were 
confirmed by journalists from Europe and Canada. During 
their visits to Sands End, a number expressed surprise 
442 
at how unconcerned the British were with issues of 
environmental risk compared to their own native publics. 
As one of the activists recalled: 
[T] here was a great amount of interest from 
European countries. A French Canadian film 
crew came, and somebody else came, and they 
said 'You are light years behind' ... Before we 
got English press, the Europeans were 
involved, because environmental things weren't 
an issue in this country then (AF: Op Cit). 
it is worth noting that while protest meetings were 
always well attended, there was opposition from within 
the community to what the activists were saying and 
doing. Even one of the 'native' activists - in her own 
words a 'known face' - encountered hostility: 
It was quite difficult using the local 
shops. .. I remember having an argument with the 
greengrocer about that very issue, because he 
had worked in the power station, and as far as 
he was concerned, there was nothing 
wrong... (CD: Op Cit). 
This activist - one of the two born in Sands End - noted 
"A lot of aggro" towards the (mostly middle-class) 
newcomers involved in the campaign. 
There were other manifestations of local opposition to 
the activists' agenda - the hate letter, for example, 
that was sent to one of the core activists, and the 
transformation of a warning painted on the power station 
wall that read 'Asbestos Dust Kills' into 'Fear and Lies 
of Asbestos Dust Kills'. 
Such incidents took place in a community where many 
resented prosperous newcomers. As one of the three core 
activists put it "The old people that were here 
443 
resented... middle class people" (JT: Op Cit). (This was 
exactly Mooney's finding. See Chapter 3). Interestingly, 
the core activist native to Sands End herself exhibited 
some hostility towards the newcomers. In past times, 
most people had remained in the neighbourhood during 
public holidays. This, at Christmas, when the trees and 
lights went up, had generated a unique atmosphere. Now, 
however, "[Sands End] is dead at Christmas" (CD: Op 
Cit) . This activist seemed resentful of the 
fact that 
the newcomers used the neighbourhood as a convenient 
dormitory during the week (which is how it was marketed 
by estate agents (see Chapter 3)), and then decanted to 
the country at weekends. 
Sands End was a community divided, in part, along class 
lines: 
It was close-knit amongst the working 
class. .. and 
became close-knit amongst the 
middle class ... It's sad, 
isn't it? (JT: Op 
Cit). 
Another activist noted that "There was enormous 
resentment about the gentrification" (AF: Op Cit). A 
third activist - an early gentrif ier - had experienced 
this resentment at first hand: 
We were perceived by real Fulhamites in 
Friston Street, which we first moved into, as 
being interlopers and outsiders and not part 
of the local tradition, notwithstanding that I 
am a Londoner born and bred (JG: Op Cit). 
(This insight illustrates the parochialism that can 
exist within London itself). 
444 
Ironically, this activist had been born into a working 
class family that lived in a particularly unglamorous 
part of north-west London, and had lived most of his 
life in Dalston, one of the capital's most deprived 
neighbourhoods (See Harrison, P., Inside the Inner City, 
Penguin, Britain, 1983, for an account of Dalston's 
depressed economy and rotting infrastructure). Perhaps 
because of his working class roots, this activist was 
particularly sensitive to the deprivation he saw around 
him in Sands End: 
[In Sands End] you have basically two types of 
community: those who are working and surviving 
reasonably well: and at the same time, there 
is quite a lot of poverty and multiple 
deprivation. You can still feel safe on the 
street for most of the time, but you do get 
problems, whether it is arising from 'Care in 
the Community' ... God help us. . . within Sands End there are a fair number of severely 
dispossessed people, some of them disoriented, 
some of them alienated, some of them very 
angry, and some of them, probably because of 
those conditions, dangerous as well (Ibid). 
Economic deprivation meant that locals found themselves 
unable to compete in an increasingly costly housing 
market. According to the activist born in Sands End, 
local people were "pushed out" of the housing market by 
relatively prosperous newcomers who "Didn't give a toss 
about the area" (CD: Op Cit). 
The distortion of the housing market caused by 
gentrification put newcomers in the public spotlight. 
That is, their relative prosperity, comfortable 
accommodation and occupation of a property that might 
otherwise have gone to a local made them highly 
445 
'visible'. This made one newcomer-activist uneasy: 
Of course, lots of people didn't like people 
like me because we're lucky enough to live 
comfortably... (MP: Op Cit). 
The poor living conditions of some of the residents of 
Sands End had been compounded by two factors: Firstly, 
the housing blight caused by the long-standing plan to 
drive a major new highway through the neighbourhood. And 
secondly, the inability of the very poor to make the 
required (small) contribution towards a housing 
improvement grant. The fact that prosperous settlers 
could afford the contribution added to the tension 
between the two communities: 
It was unfair that people with poor facilities 
who couldn't afford the contribution for a 
grant lived next to middle class newcomers who 
could (AF: Op Cit). 
This activist held the view that those who declared the 
neighbourhood a Housing Action Area did so in the hope 
that it would change the demography of Sands End: 
A Conservative as well as a Labour person 
would say to you that the Housing Action Area 
was done with the prime aim of changing the 
social make-up of the area (Ibid). 
She went on to say that newcomers' lifestyles sometimes 
frustrated their ambition to fit in with local 
traditions. This, she felt, was very apparent in the 
case of two of the core activists: 
[Names deleted] were like on social 
experiments, weren't they? [They were] proving 
solidarity with the working class by working 
446 
in a working class area, and then [saying] 
'But I must have the house gutted' (Ibid). 
A number of activists, however, saw a positive side to 
the gentrification: namely that the population (or at 
least its new middle class component) became more risk- 
conscious. As one of the three core activists put it: 
I think people are far more [risk] conscious 
because there has been a change of people 
living in this area (CD: Op Cit). 
According to this activist, while the original 
population was not unconscious of environmental 
disamenity (like the smoke, smut, odours and noise 
produced by the power station), they accepted it as the 
price of employment: 
Everybody commented on the smut and the smoke. 
People talked about it.. . People complained 
about soot on washing, but I don't think 
anyone thought of it as a health issue.. . There 
wasn't the awareness then (Ibid). 
The residents' pragmatic quiescence was noted by another 
activist: 
[The power station] was a source of 
work... there was an acceptance of it.. . there 
wasn't that kind of problem, and that is 
typical of residential communities living in 
industrial areas close to their work.. . That 
is 
life... that is modern industry... there are no 
problems about it. Women who did the weekly 
washing for the last fifty or sixty years had 
moaned about the smuts which would appear on 
their washing, but they lived with it... it 
wasn't an issue (JG: Op Cit). 
A third activist commented that local residents accepted 
the pollution "Because it was work. That is the price 
447 
you paid for work. You couldn't have something employing 
so many people and not have the problem" (the word 
'work' was strongly emphasised) (AF: Op Cit). 
Perhaps because of the native population's familiarity 
with industrial hazard, whether smoke, smells, noise or, 
in the case of power station workers and their families, 
asbestos, or perhaps because of other, more urgent, 
socio-economic concerns, the group's active membership 
never exceeded a dozen. This had important consequences 
for the campaigners - some negative, and some positive. 
On the negative side, the group's small size meant that 
the considerable workload generated by the campaign put 
an enormous stress on individual members, the heaviest 
burden falling on the three core activists. 
On the positive side, however, each of the three core 
activists 'self actualised' through participating in the 
campaign - as the following testimony reveals: 
[Name deleted] who had worked at Ready Mix 
Concrete [located on the river near Wandsworth 
Bridge] as a secretary for a number of 
years.. . was very quiet and 
had to be dragged 
into the group. . . And actually became the 
key 
person... (Ibid). 
Some of those at the periphery of the group also 'self 
actualised' through their campaigning activities: 
[Name deleted] just bloomed. He was very 
cautiously approached with 'We know you're a 
scientist'... You know... anyone passing with an 
A-level in physics would have done... He got 
professional esteem because he wrote some 
articles for New Scientist (AF: Op Cit). 
448 
While the activists' 'risk consciousness' outlived the 
power station campaign, their 'risk activism' did not. 
Although aware of other environmental hazards in the 
area worthy of attention, most activists withdrew from 
the political limelight, content to leave the agitprop 
to others. This general retreat may have been a reaction 
against the large workload borne by the group during the 
power station campaign. Perhaps if the work had been 
more evenly spread, the activists would not have become 
quite so disaffected with campaigning. 
The group received little practical support from those 
living outside the neighbourhood. The wider London 
public - according to press reports sympathetic to the 
Fulham campaigners - did not seem inclined to act 'out 
of area,. Interestingly, the Fulham group was not 
entirely selfless, there being more than a hint of not 
in my back yard-ism' (NIMBY-ism) amongst the campaigners 
- as may be gathered from these comments made by one of 
the core activists: 
We fought something for ourselves... It was a 
selfish campaign. . . We fought 
it because we 
didn't want that stuff polluting our 
area.. . The 
fact that they took it somewhere to 
dispose of it - well, that's up to them to 
fight... Obviously one tries to do something 
that has a larger view as well, but these 
things are selfishly motivated... I don't think 
there is anything wrong in that ... 
(VW: OP 
Cit). 
Several group members attributed their activism to 
concern for their own children's health. Only one -a 
'native' Fulhamite - attributed her participation in the 
campaign to concern for the community at large: 
449 
I never for once thought of it as being a 
personal issue, like my children might be 
affected or I might be affected, because I 
don't tend to think of it that way (CD: Op 
Cit) . 
It is possible that this person's sense of community 
responsibility was due - in part or in whole - to her 
being a native of Sands End. 
3.2 The Demonstrably Risk-Conscious: Conclusion. 
The power station campaign was conducted by a very small 
group of residents. Amongst those not involved, some 
people were sympathetic to the group, expressing their 
solidarity by attending public meetings and occasionally 
writing to the local papers. The vast majority, however, 
took no action. Some of these were openly hostile to the 
activists. 
The Sands End protest approximates to Morrison and 
Dunlap's (1986) model of the dynamics of community-based 
environmental activism: 
Voluntary social movement organisations 
[enjoy] ... several 
levels of support and 
commitment... These levels can be 
conceptualised as concentric "rings" or 
"orbits" around the core... 
The ring immediately adjacent to the 
core consists of people who are not, at least 
currently, formal dues-paying members ... but 
who still support the causes the organisations 
pursue, occasionally by making concrete 
contributions, by signing petitions, by 
participating in movement-related activities, 
and so on. 
The next ring consists of citizens who 
have not given concrete support to any social 
movement organisation, but who, when asked, 
express general support for, sympathy toward, 
and agreement with the issues pursued by some 
450 
of the social movement organisations. 
Farther yet from the core is the ring of 
citizens who are neutral toward the 
movement... and, beyond this, the rings of 
citizens who oppose the movement in various 
degrees... (Morrison, D. E., and Dunlap, R. E., 
Environmentalism and Elitism: A Conceptual and 
Empirical Analysis, Environmental Management, 
Vol 10, No. 5, p. 582). 
The crucial question about the Sands End group, of 
course, is how broad these 'concentric rings' of 
support, indifference and opposition were. As far as the 
question of mobilised support is concerned, it is clear 
that only a very small number played any active part in 
the campaign: The group had no more than a dozen 
members, and the few public meetings held by the group 
never attracted more than 150 residents (although it 
could be said that such a number is a good turnout to 
discuss a largely invisible health threat). 
Of course, there may be several reasons for the non- 
participation of the majority of residents in the 
campaign: they may have resented the 'hijacking' of the 
campaign by relatively prosperous newcomers; they may 
have found it impossible to conceive of the power 
station ('their' power station), past provider of energy 
and employment, as a malevolent force; they may have 
considered asbestos to be relatively harmless; they may 
have believed the reassurances of the CEGB, HSE, 
decontamination and demolition contractors; they may 
have resented the way in which the protest slowed the 
demolition. Some native residents wanted the station 
removed as quickly as possible so economic regeneration 
could begin; they may have felt they lacked the personal 
451 
resources (education, self-esteem and confidence) to 
become involved; they may have been complacent and/or 
lazy; they may have lacked the time; or, as the activist 
employed as a youth worker pointed out, they may, unlike 
the relatively prosperous and successful people who 
became active on the issue, have had more pressing 
personal socio-economic problems to deal with: 
A lot of them had bigger problems to deal with 
in their homes. It's the 'pyramid of 
hierarchical needs'. If you've got things 
worrying you about your home and your family, 
you don't think too much about other people 
(TR: Op Cit). 
As another activist (who was working for the local 
authority in community development at the time of the 
demolition) pointed out, one of the many potential 
worries at the time were housing conditions: 
The Townmead houses had been blighted, and the 
conditions in some of those houses were 
atrocious. . People 
had lived donkeys years 
without decorating the front room... Those 
houses were going for nothing at auction (AF: 
Op Cit). 
The Townmead houses were the ones closest to the power 
station (Fulham Power Station's main entrance was on 
Townmead Road, opposite the houses). Consequently, the 
people in them were the ones most at risk from emissions 
of asbestos dust. Yet, no one from Townmead joined the 
power station protest group. It is possible that the 
residents' inaction was due in part to a preoccupation 
with their squalid living conditions. (The socio- 
economic status of Sands End at the time of the 
demolition, and the area's housing problems, are 
452 
described in detail in Chapter 3, section 2.2). 
4 Themes and Characteristics: Conclusion. 
The activists believed the power station's asbestos to 
pose a latent risk to public health. 
In light of this construction, the activists made two 
demands: Firstly, they wanted the asbestos in Fulham 
Power Station removed by competent contractors who would 
act responsibly and be accountable for their actions, 
and secondly, they wanted the potentially dangerous work 
verified by responsible and accountable public bodies. 
They accepted the fait accompli of the sale, and the 
fact that they were continually trying to 'catch up with 
the game'. Nevertheless, they strived to secure the 
'safest possible' decontamination and demolition. 
Despite several dust emissions, the activists believed 
the campaign to have been a success. Later, the 
government reversed its sales policy (although, perhaps 
not unexpectedly, it never gave the activists any credit 
for this very public change of heart). 
All the members of the protest group were middle class. 
Only one had worked with asbestos (a number of years 
prior to the campaign). Although the few public meetings 
were well attended, the campaign was never a 'mass 
movement' within the community, which displayed both 
indifference and antipathy, and occasionally open 
hostility, towards the campaign group. 
The power station debate took place in an increasingly 
453 
polarised community with (in relation to most other 
London neighbourhoods) a disproportionate number of 
general environmental and socio-economic risks and 
hazards. 
454 
Conclusion 
1 Introduction. 
Before beginning the conclusion, it may be helpful to 
re-state the question addressed in the thesis, namely 
'What effect, if any, did the hi storic and contemporary 
socio-economic conditions and expectations of the 
community of Sands End have on the character and 
dynamics of the 1983-1984 debate over the 
decontamination and demoliti on of Fulham Power 
Station? '. 
The demolition of the power station created a potential 
environmental hazard - airborne asbestos dust. Some 
residents decided to lobby the agencies and contractors 
involved to secure the 'safest possible' decontamination 
and demolition. The numbers involved, however, never 
exceeded a dozen. Indeed, the protest group was run by a 
cabal of just three people. 
As shown in Chapter 2, the public's attitude to 
environmental hazard may be influenced by economic 
considerations. At Love Canal in the United States, for 
example, a 1970s health scare over chemical dumping 
produced an ambivalent response from certain sections of 
the community, most notably from those residents who 
worked in the local chemical plants; 
At Love Canal, many men worked in the chemical 
industry. They were more likely to engage in 
denial over the potential ill effects of 
chemical exposure. They may... have felt loyal 
to their employers and/or feared that the 
toxic issue might cause them to lose their 
jobs (Edelstein and Wandersman, 'Community 
455 
Dynamics in Coping With Toxic Contaminants', 
in Altman, I., and Wandersman, A., (Eds), 
Neighbourhood and Community Environments, 
Plenum, US, 1987, p. 85). 
The Love Canal incident is relevant to Sands End because 
it demonstrates how economic factors can, under certain 
circumstances, influence, if not determine, risk 
perceptions and subsequent behaviour. Thus, as far as 
most Love Canal chemical workers were concerned, the 
need to pull in a wage proved more urgent than the need 
to investigate and act on a possible public health 
issue. 
While no-one in Sands End depended on the power station 
for employment (with the exception, perhaps, of a few 
locals employed by the decontamination and demolition 
contractors), it is possible that the area's pressing 
socio-economic problems and decaying infrastructure may 
have convinced the majority that their limited energies 
should be focused not on ameliorating the (disputed) 
long-term health effects of the demolition, but on 
addressing the area's more acute socio-economic problems 
of poor housing, crime, unemployment, low incomes, 
limited opportunities and institutionalised 
discrimination (see Chapters 3 and 4). Certainly, these 
'social risks' were more visible and immediate, and were 
felt more acutely, than the putative long-term health 
risk posed by airborne asbestos dust invisible to the 
naked eye. 
To ask the question 'What Risks in Whose Risk Society'? 
is not to devalue the achievements of those few who 
456 
lobbied for a safe decontamination and demolition. 
Rather, it is to develop a more holistic, inclusive and 
textured account of the protest. In short, to evaluate 
what effect, if any, the micro and macro socio-economic 
context to the debate had on the public's behaviour 
during the decontamination and demolition of Fulham 
Power Station. 
2 Context. 
2.1 Socio-Economic. 
2.1.1 Introduction. 
The macro and micro socio-economic contexts to the 
debate were described in detail in Chapters 3 and 4. The 
following is therefore a brief aide-memoire to the 
previous analysis. 
2.1.2 Macro. 
A year after the demolition of Fulham Power Station, 
London had "The largest concentration of unemployment of 
any city in the industrialised world" (Townsend, Op Cit, 
p. 12). Between 1969 and 1983, the year in which the 
decontamination began, the number of unemployed 
Londoners in receipt of means-tested benefits increased 
eleven-fold. 
The increased number of people living either in, or on, 
the margins of poverty reflected, in part, the de- 
industrialisation of the capital. Between 1971 and 1976, 
for example, West London's manufacturing base shrank by 
457 
over 30%. Manufacturing firms continued to either close, 
'rationalise' or migrate out of the capital throughout 
the late 1970s and early 1980s. 
At the same time, the capital's financial services 
sector boomed. Unfortunately, however, many of those 
ejected by the contracting manufacturing sector lacked 
the qualifications and skills demanded by service sector 
industries. Unable to compete in the new jobs market, 
they were simply left behind. This exacerbated the 
capital's long-standing social end economic 
ghettoisation. While the poor got poorer, the 
Metropolitan rich got richer. For example, between 1979 
and 1985, while the real take home pay of the top 20% of 
Londoners rose by over 11%, that of the bottom 20% fell 
by almost 3%. 
With the accelerating socio-economic polarisation of the 
1980s came an explosion of crime in the capital. Between 
1980 and 1984, the number of offences notified to the 
Metropolitan Police rose by about 21%. The possibility 
of a link between poverty and crime is hotly debated. 
Writing about London in the early 1980s, however, Paul 
Harrison drew the following conclusion; 
Sheer poverty... can act as a potent stimulus 
to crime. A growing amount of crime, in the 
dark days of the early eighties, was arising 
out of straightforward need, in an 
increasingly Dickensian way (Harrison, P., 
Inside the Inner City, Pelican, Britain, 
p. 328). 
If we accept Harrison's argument, then London's crime 
explosion of the early 1980s signified a marked increase 
458 
in social deprivation. 
Rampant crime prompted some developers to offer those 
with most to loose - the new Metropolitan elite -a new, 
more secure style of living. In Fulham, the Chelsea 
Harbour scheme typified the new trend in exclusive, 
secured urban housing. The development might be seen as 
the reification of the social and economic polarisation 
of the early 1980s. 
Comparing the London of the 1980s with the London of the 
'Swinging Sixties', Townsend concluded that; 
The economy of London interrelates more 
obviously with poverty than it did 20 years 
ago. Unemployment, underemployment, low wages, 
bad conditions at work and a pervasive 
insecurity more obviously characterise the 
social relationships of London than they did 
in the 1960s (Op Cit, p. 9). 
If, in the 1980s, there were "Unemployed people whose 
desperation to keep their families fed and clothed [was] 
acute" (Ibid, p. 3), it is possible that those affected 
by such deprivations might have given their economic 
situation more thought than such nebulous environmental 
health problems as lead emissions or airborne asbestos. 
2.1.3 Micro. 
If, during the mid-1980s, London had 'The largest 
concentration of unemployment of any city in the 
industrialised world', then the London Borough of 
Hammersmith and Fulham had more than its fair share of 
'labour shake-out'. Indeed, years of de- 
industrialisation and 'rationalisation' had made 
459 
Hammersmith and Fulham "One of London's most deprived 
Boroughs" (Whitting, G., Op Cit, p. 7). 
In 1978, unemployment in the Borough had stood at less 
than 6%. In the year in which the power station was 
finally demolished, 1984, it stood at 13%. 
Of the four wards ranged along the banks of the Thames 
between Hammersmith Bridge and Chelsea Harbour, Sands 
End consistently suffered the highest rate of 
unemployment. Furthermore, Sands End had the highest 
percentage of semi-skilled and unskilled workers, the 
very people who found it most difficult to adjust to the 
new service-driven Metropolitan economy. In 1981, almost 
one quarter of Sands End's working population fell into 
this category. 
Hammersmith and Fulham suffered other deprivations. Life 
expectancy, for example, was 'relatively low' in 
comparison with more prosperous Boroughs (Townsend, Op 
Cit, p. 35). 
Housing, too, was a problem. In 1980, Sands End had 
"Some of the very worst housing problems in the Borough" 
(Bayliss, G., Op Cit). During the late 1970s, three 
Housing Action Areas (HAAs) had been set up to address 
the neighbourhood's housing crisis. In one of Sands 
End's HAAs, 57's of households had no inside toilet, and 
63% had no bath (Ibid). Some of the worst housing could 
be found on Townmead Road, adjacent to the power 
station. This housing had been blighted by years of 
uncertainty over a major road scheme. 
460 
The Borough's overall housing problem was reflected in 
the 9,000 people on the local authority's 1982 council 
house waiting list. 
In Sands End, Tony Powell, one of the ward's two Labour 
councillors, went so far as to make an appeal on the LBC 
'AM' radio programme for 'Housing for people who are in 
need' (Op Cit). 
The local press, too, kept the housing problem in public 
view. Between the announcement of the sale of Fulham 
Power Station, in May 1983, and the end of that year, 
the Fulham Chronicle carried seven housing-related front 
page stories (out of 34 editions). Some focused on poor 
housing conditions, while others drew attention to the 
seemingly magnetic attraction between the 
neighbourhood's new-build high-rise estates and crime. 
2.1.4 Conclusion. 
All in all, the economy and infrastructure of Sands End 
was in poor health in the early 1980s. There were, of 
course, glimmers of hope, like the much vaunted Chelsea 
Harbour development. But Chelsea Harbour offered no 
affordable 'social housing' or low-rent business units. 
There were jobs, but these were few in number, poorly 
paid and semi- or unskilled. Hardly a recipe for 
building a dynamic, well qualified pool of labour in the 
neighbourhood. 
Interestingly, many of the observations made by 
academics like Townsend, Whitting and Bayliss, national 
461 
journalists like Mooney, local journalists and 
politicians like Tony Powell (see above), were reflected 
in the narratives of several power station activists. 
Thus, several interviewees drew attention to the socio- 
economic context of the power station campaign. 
One, for example, explained the general lack of interest 
in the issues surrounding the decontamination and 
demolition in terms of the public's preoccupation with 
housing decay: 
Environmental issues weren't 'in' at that 
time... damp was 'in' at that time (AF, Op 
Cit) . 
This activist, the neighbourhood's Community Development 
Worker, opined that the need to 'pull in a wage' can 
militate against environmental and health 
considerations. This, she felt, had happened in Sands 
End, where most residents had accepted the pollution 
produced by the power station "Because it was work" 
(Ibid). 
A second activist concurred with this view, commenting 
that although many locals - especially housewives - 
would complain about the smut and smoke, they never made 
an issue of it (JG, Op Cit). 
This same activist was very aware of the area's pressing 
social and economic problems: 
[In Sands End] you have basically two types of 
community: those who are working and surviving 
reasonably well: and at the same time, there 
is quite a lot of poverty and multiple 
deprivation (Ibid). 
462 
A third activist concurred that socio-economic problems 
could militate against environmental activism. After 
all, she thought, most people would tend to their 
immediate socio-economic needs before thinking about the 
possible long-term health implications of airborne 
asbestos: 
A lot of them had bigger problems to deal with 
in their homes... If you've got things worrying 
you about your home and your family, you don't 
think too much about other people (TR, Op 
Cit). 
According to this activist - who worked at the Townmead 
Road Youth Club - the 'pyramid of hierarchical needs' 
dictates that socio-economic problems are given priority 
over other, less well-defined and more uncertain 
threats. 
Of course, not every activist saw the general public's 
silence on the power station issue in the context of 
Sands End's precarious economic status. Two activists - 
one a 'core activist', the other on the periphery - 
were, respectively, 'disenchanted' and 'surprised' with 
the muted response of the general population to the 
power station issue. As one put it; "An awful lot of 
people didn't want to bother... In the end we got quite 
fed up" (JT, Op Cit). The other activist, who described 
herself as 'financially privileged', found people 
'singularly apathetic' (MP, Op Cit). 
The various foreign journalists and film crews who 
covered the demolition also failed to put the issue in 
463 
context. They expressed puzzlement as to why such 
communities were so far behind their international 
neighbours in lobbying for a safer environment. 
At this time, however, Britain was conspicuously less 
prosperous than many of her international cousins. Japan 
and West Germany, for example, had much stronger 
economies than Britain - economies built around highly 
efficient manufacturing sectors (Childs, D., Britain 
Since 1939 - Progress and Decline, Macmillan, Britain, 
1995, p. 198). 
In Britain, however, questions of industrial decline, 
unemployment and cuts in public services loomed large. 
There was a deep unease at the country's performance and 
prospects, an unease articulated in a widespread 
dissatisfaction with the Premier. As Childs explains; 
"The 'de-industrialisation' of Britain, which gathered 
pace in the early Thatcher years, brought dismay.. . By 
the end of 1981, Thatcher had become the most unpopular 
Prime Minister since Neville Chamberlain... " (Ibid). 
(Such dissatisfaction, however, appeared to evaporate on 
polling days: Thatcher remained Prime Minister 
throughout the 1980s). 
In Sands End, the phenomenon of de-industrialisation, in 
concert with such neighbourhood-specific problems as 
lack of investment and opportunity, decrepit housing, 
escalating crime, poor health, drug abuse and social and 
economic polarisation, gave people much to think about 
besides the possible long-term health effects of 
asbestos. 
464 
At this time, of course, Ulrich Beck was writing about 
what he believed to be the developing environmental 
consciousness of an increasingly 'post-materialist' 
European society. (His seminal work, Risk Society, was 
published in Germany'in 1986). Beck advanced the theory 
that environmental consciousness is partly a function of 
economic well-being; that is, the wealthier you are, the 
greater becomes your inclination to think of the 
environmental consequences of your decisions and 
actions. Such 'environmental consciousness', in concert 
with "[T]he knowledge... that the sources of wealth are 
'polluted' by 'hazardous side effects"' (Beck, Risk 
Society, p. 20), would, so Beck believed, generate "[A] 
growing critique of modernisation", which would 
"[L]oudly and contentiously [determine] public 
discussions" (Ibid). 
Beck did not consider his theory to apply only to the 
German experience, of course. Far from it. He believed 
that such enlightened, 'reflexive' processes were to be 
found in all advanced industrial societies: 
In the welfare states of the West. . . the 
struggle for one's 'daily bread' has lost its 
urgency as a cardinal problem overshadowing 
everything else. . . For many people problems of 
'overweight' take the place of hunger (Ibid). 
As we have seen, however, in Britain in general, and in 
Sands End in particular, at the time Beck was writing 
Risk Society, the 'struggle for one's daily bread' had, 
for many people, not 'lost its urgency'. 
465 
Thus Beck's attempt to offer a generalisable, universal 
account of environmental consciousness in late modernity 
fails to accommodate the disparate socio-economic 
fortunes of the various 'welfare states of the West' in 
the 1980s. The West Germans might well have been 'post- 
materialist' in their outlook. Many Britons, and 
certainly many of those who lived in Sands End, were 
not. Beck's description of the Federal Republic as an 
"Eldorado of bureaucratically organised care and 
caution" (Beck, U., in Featherstone, M., Op Cit, p. 97) 
could hardly have been applied to the Britain of the 
early 1980s, much less to poor, neglected, isolated 
Sands End. While political discourse in West Germany may 
well have changed from discussions about "[T]he logic of 
wealth distribution in a society of scarcity to the 
logic of risk distribution in late modernity" (Beck, 
Risk Society, p. 19), political discourse in Britain, and 
particularly in Sands End, was still largely focused on 
'wealth generation in a society of need'. 
However, although Beck's 'post-materialist' theory would 
appear somewhat parochial, if not 'nationalistic' in its 
formulation, it does highlight, albeit indirectly, an 
important aspect of human behaviour: namely the 
relationship between prosperity and environmental 
concern. Beck, of course, focused on the link between 
wealth and heightened environmental sensibility. This, 
after all, was the German experience. Had he been 
writing about the British experience, however, he might 
well have focused on the propensity of poverty, unmet 
needs and wants and relentless decline to inure publics 
466 
to environmental disamenity and/or scientific and 
technological risk and hazard. As shown in Chapter 2, 
this is exactly what can happen where workers are faced 
with the choice of either protesting against unsafe 
working conditions (either directly, through a union, or 
indirectly, by not applying for unnecessarily hazardous 
jobs) or 'knuckling under' to earn a wage to keep their 
family clothed and fed. As the fork-lift driver in the 
GMLPU survey put it; 
I work in the outside storage department ... I 
don't think anybody would take the outside 
job, with it being the dangerous chemical 
side.. . Because 
it was permanent, I jumped at 
the chance... 
You get paid an allowance for working 
outside storage with flammables. That's my 
only grumble. £5.38 a week, it should be £538 
a week for working with flammables. If the 
place goes up, I wouldn't even know about it 
(Op Cit). 
Other workers, in other similarly depressed local 
economies, can make the same kind of pragmatic 
calculation. In America's 'Chemical Valley', for 
example, workers steel themselves against the obvious 
risks of chemical manufacture so they can pay their way: 
What are you going to do? I worry all the time 
about the stuf fI smell and about some of the 
things I've seen over there. But I'm making 
$11 an hour doing inside work. In West 
Virginia, you don't walk away from top dollar 
like that (Chaze, Op Cit). 
In a later (1987) study of US chemical workers, 
Edelstein and Wandersman found a similar pragmatic 
acceptance of industrial hazard. As they put it; 
When... students questioned workers in 
467 
hazardous chemical factories, they found that 
many workers were aware of the dangers. They 
engaged in various forms of rationalisation to 
justify taking such risks. For example, man 
claimed to be trading-off personal risks for 
the opportunity to work at a high-paving blue- 
collar iob that might provide the ticket for 
their children to go to college and escape 
such work [My emphasis] (Op Cit, p. 86). 
Thus, as Edelstein and Wandersman discovered, it is 
possible that a person's ambitions for his/her family 
may influence their attitude towards potentially 
hazardous employment. Here, then, is further evidence of 
the way in which socio-economic circumstance may affect 
human behaviour in the face of scientific and/or 
technological risks and hazards. In the case of the 
fork-lift driver quoted above, for example, 'John' saw 
his hazardous job as a way of keeping his house and 
saving enough money to marry his partner. 'Barbara', the 
van driver who collected waste cellulose solvent, and 
who was injured in a crash (see Chapter 2), took the job 
"so that she could spend some time with her two 
children" (Op Cit, p. 24). 
Therefore, it is reasonable to conclude that a person's 
social and economic circumstances (and ambitions for 
their partner and offspring) will exert at least some 
influence upon his/her attitude to scientific and/or 
technological risk and hazard. A number of power station 
activists alluded to this in their interview responses 
(see TR's statement, above, for example). The mediating 
influence of economic circumstance on attitudes to 
scientific and technological risks and hazards has also 
been noted by academics. Wynne, for example, attributed 
468 
the quiescence of Cumbrian hill farmers over the issue 
of radioactive contamination from Windscale partly to 
the contribution the plant made to the local economy 
(see Chapter 2). In light of the community's dependence 
on BNFL for skilled jobs, they were not about to risk 
whatever prosperity the plant brought by confiding their 
suspicions and fears to journalists or government 
scientists. 
The pragmatism of those heavily or wholly dependent on 
'risky' ventures for their livelihood has been noted by 
Francis: 
Within the present economic system, many 
conclude that elimination of pollution may be 
accompanied by reduction of economic security, 
particularly job security. Such worries are 
particularly compelling to those of low social 
status who lack the financial and personal 
resources needed to absorb sudden shifts in 
industries in a particular area (Op Cit). 
Within the present economic system, where good jobs are 
at a premium, and where employment protection rights, 
under the influence of 'globalisation', are fast 
disappearing (Childs, D., Op Cit, p. 208; and Red Pepper, 
June, 1996, p. 14/15), many choose pragmatic quiescence 
over protest. As Chomsky puts it: 
Anybody lives within a cultural and social 
framework which has certain values and certain 
opportunities. It assigns cost to various 
kinds of action and benefits to others. You 
just live in that. You can't help it. We live 
in one that assigns benefits to efforts to 
achieve individual gain... [L] et' s say I'm the 
father or mother of a family, what do I do 
with my time? I've got twenty four hours a 
day. If I've got children to take care of, a 
future to worry about, what do I do? One thing 
you can do is try to play up to the boss and 
see if you can get a dollar more an hour, or 
469 
maybe kick somebody in the face when you walk 
past them. If not do it directly, do it 
indirectly, by the mechanisms that are set up 
for you within a capitalist society (Op Cit). 
Thus, for Chomsky, as for Wynne and Francis, socio- 
economic context may exert a powerful influence on human 
behaviour. 
This is something a number of power station activists 
failed to understand. Speaking from a position of 
relative economic (and educational) security, they 
expressed 'disappointment' at the apparent lack of 
interest shown by the majority of the community in the 
power station issue. As one put it; 
[P]eople just want to get on with their 
lives... it is disenchanting (JT, Op Cit). 
It did not occur to this activist to ask why the 
majority failed to join in. Certainly, some may have 
spurned the campaigners out of laziness. Some may have 
believed asbestos to be harmless. Some may even have 
trusted the various public and private agencies involved 
in the decontamination and demolition to behave 
responsibly. But, as the Townmead Road Youth Club worker 
('TR') pointed out, many had more pressing matters to 
deal with at home. In the 'pyramid of hierarchical 
needs' the possible long-term health effects of asbestos 
dust came a poor second to keeping a job (even a low 
paid, casualised job), looking for work, juggling bills, 
paying the rent or keeping their offspring on the 
straight and narrow. 
470 
In conclusion, scientific and technological risk and 
hazard debates are inherently social in character. They 
occur in specific temporal, social, economic and 
political milieux. They both affect, and are affected by 
these contexts. This specificity means that risk debates 
sit uncomfortably with such grand narratives as Beck's 
Risk Society thesis. We are not all 'post-materialist'. 
Indeed, as far as the British are concerned, it might be 
argued that only a small number could be classified (or 
would classify themselves) as having met their economic 
needs and wants. 
Moreover, Beck's 'post-materialist' thesis also fails 
when applied globally; A world in which "800 million 
people out of 5.6 billion [are] hungry, and where one- 
fifth of the world's population live on less than $1 a 
day", and in which, according to Reuters, "The holocaust 
of poverty.. claims millions of victims every day" 
('World Leaders Urged To End 'Holocaust'', The Guardian, 
October 15,1994) could hardly be described as 'post- 
materialist'. As Scott puts it; 
(Beck's] comment that in the West a sense of 
risk has replaced the urgency of the struggle 
for one's daily bread may be seen by some as 
overly optimistic. On a global scale, 
certainly, it makes little sense ('Risk 
Society: Towards A New Modernity', Sociology 
of Health and Illness, Volume 16, Number 1, 
January, 1994, p. 135). 
As to the prospects of a 'post-materialist' culture 
taking root in Britain, it might be worth considering 
Kenneth Tynan's 1973 premonition: 
471 
A super-rich class is being built on top of 
the existing structure - an international 
class of the business-rich drawing on the US 
and the Common Market - with the aim of 
keeping the insurgent and overweening middle 
class in their place, and of decisively 
depressing the proletariat. Only members of 
the super-rich (the new feudal class) will be 
able to keep their head above the decline in 
the value of money, because they are paid in 
perks, property, possessions and tax-exempt 
benefits. This is what will separate them from 
the rest of us, whose efforts will perforce be 
dedicated not to changing society, but to 
keeping ourselves from drowning [My emphasis] 
(Quoted in The Times, November 3,1994). 
Tynan, s prophecy is noteworthy on several counts; It 
anticipated the marked social polarisation of the 1980s. 
Indeed, Tynan presaged Therborn's prediction of 
'increasing trichotomous socio-economic division' (New 
Times, p. 111) in Britain by over fifteen years; It also 
hinted at the growing indifference of - to use Will 
Hutton's invective - Britain's "Arrogant officer 
class. . . 
favoured with education, jobs, housing and 
pensions" (Op Cit) towards the remaining two thirds of 
society. In this observation, Tynan presaged Townsend's 
1987 conclusion that, in London at least, the rich were 
becoming progressively less concerned about the mounting 
squalor they saw around them, and progressively more 
concerned about their own financial and personal 
security. (As mentioned previously, the Chelsea Harbour 
and Regent on the River developments could be 
interpreted as a reification of this 'neurosis' (see 
Chapter 3)). But most importantly, in the context of the 
question addressed here, it hinted at the capacity of 
personal economic circumstance and calculation to 
dominate the thoughts and behaviour of those outside the 
472 
narrow 'officer clique' - at least two-thirds of the 
population. As Tynan might have said in the 1970s, or 
Chomsky in the 1990s, 'Keeping oneself from one's 
financial grave, watery or not, is a full-time 
occupation'. Of course, neither commentator has anything 
to say on the priority a community might attach to 
action over the possible long-term health effects of 
airborne asbestos dust. All one can say is that both 
Tynan and Chomsky, like Wynne and Francis, see the 
'economic imperative' as a major influence on personal 
priority-setting. 
2.2 Other Environmental Issues as Context. 
2.2.1 Introduction. 
While the preceding analysis focuses on the influence of 
socio-economic factors on the dynamics of scientific and 
technological risk and hazard debates, one cannot ignore 
the possible mediating role of other contextual factors 
- specifically other environmental issues. Given the 
general thrust of the thesis, namely that a complete 
understanding of risk and hazard debates necessitates a 
detailed analysis of the context in which they occur, it 
would be remiss not to make brief mention of the several 
other environmental issues that contributed to the 
social tableau against which the power station debate 
was conducted. 
2.2.2 Contemporary Environmental Concerns. 
Briefly, there were some half dozen environmental issues 
473 
on the local political agenda at the time of the power 
station debate. 
1. Concerns over lead emissions were a prominent feature 
of the political agenda, not least because Fulham's MP, 
Martin Stevens, chaired the parliamentary committee of 
CLEAR. As a result of the efforts of Martin Stevens and 
other local campaigners, there was "A great deal 
of.. . local publicity over the 
hazard of lead poisoning" 
(Civic News, Op Cit). The local authority responded to 
the clamour by appointing a Temporary Scientific Officer 
to investigate the problem. 
2. Traffic volumes also featured on the local political 
agenda. Firstly, because cars contributed to such 
problems as lead in the atmosphere. Secondly, because 
they emitted other contaminants, such as PM10s (carbon 
particles) and minute quantities of asbestos dust from 
brake linings. And thirdly, because they posed an 
immediate physical hazard; several children had been 
knocked down and killed in Sands End by cars using the 
neighbourhood's 'rat runs'. TERROR became the focus for 
concerns about car safety. 
3. Sands End played host to numerous small, yard-based 
industries, such as car-wrecking yards, waste transfer 
stations, small incinerators and builders merchants. 
While a source of much needed (albeit poorly paid, low- 
skilled and casualised) employment, these industries 
caused much local environmental disturbance, usually in 
the form of noise, dust and odours. 
4. Much of the derelict land in Sands End had been used 
474 
by heavy industry (for example, the British Gas site 
where, before the advent of 'natural gas', coal had been 
reduced to make town gas). Consequently, there was a lot 
of heavily contaminated land in the neighbourhood, 
especially near the river, where groups like ARISE 
wanted to see a community park and riverside walk 
established. 
S. Aircraft noise was also an issue. Firstly, because of 
Heathrow's continued expansion (a fifth terminal was 
being mooted even in the early 1980s), and secondly, 
because of the success of the heliport on the Wandsworth 
bank of the Thames. 
6. The suspected transportation of nuclear waste along 
the West London Railway (which ran right beside Chelsea 
Harbour) was an issue for some people, including one of 
the power station activists ('PR'). 
2.2.3 Commercial Asbestos vies with Domestic Asbestos 
for Public Attention. 
Perhaps the most interesting feature of the general 
environmental background to the power station debate was 
the discovery in 1983 of large amounts of brown asbestos 
at a sixteen storey block of flats in Sands End. The 
flats were decontaminated by the local authority, 
requiring the temporary relocation of four floors of 
tenants at each stage. The contamination was reported in 
the local press within two weeks of the announcement in 
The Times of the sale of Fulham Power Station, and in 
the context of determined efforts by the GLC to keep the 
475 
asbestos issue on the capital's political agenda (see 
Chapter 3). 
2.2.4 Conclusion. 
The power station debate took place in an environmental 
as well as a socio-economic context. While this research 
focuses on the mediating role of socio-economic factors 
in risk perceptions and behaviour, it should not be 
forgotten that, at the time of the decontamination and 
demolition of Fulham Power Station, there were a number 
of local environmental risk issues, as well as social 
and economic issues, for the public to consider. Some, 
of course, like the asbestos found in local flats, or 
the airborne asbestos dust produced by brake linings, 
complemented the power station campaign by keeping the 
asbestos issue on the political agenda. Others, however, 
like road hazard, lead or aircraft noise may well have 
served to divert attention from the asbestos issue. 
As mentioned earlier, this research does not concern 
itself in detail with the mediating role of other 
environmental risks and hazards in the power station 
debate, although this aspect could form the basis for 
further study. 
3A Class Act? 
3.1 Introduction. 
Having established that the socio-economic conditions 
obtaining in Sands End in 1983/1984 had at least some 
476 
effect on the character and dynamics of the power 
station debate, in that the community had plenty to 
worry about besides small quantities of asbestos dust 
released from the power station, it might be valuable to 
develop the analysis in terms of a possible corollary 
between activism, antipathy and opposition and class 
membership. 
The class dimension, of course, is implicit in the 
socio-economic analysis of the debate, for if the 
socially disadvantaged are less able and/or willing to 
participate in risk debates, it follows that the 
socially advantaged are more able and/or willing to take 
part. 
Of course, this analysis assumes there to be a corollary 
between socio-economic status and class. That is, that 
the less well off belong to the working class, and the 
better off belong to the middle class. While this does 
not always hold (see the description of nouveau-riche 
'social climbers' in Chapter 1, for example), for the 
sake of this broad analysis, a relationship between 
socio-economic status and class can be assumed. 
3.2 Pedigree of the Power Station Activists. 
Judging the activists on the basis of their occupations, 
all of those interviewed were middle class. The three 
'core activists' were, respectively, a journalist, an 
artist and an ex-secretary. Of those outside the cabal, 
two were community workers, one a local authority 
manager, one a maintenance planner for an area health 
477 
authority, one a polytechnic lecturer and another, who 
did voluntary work at local hospitals, the widow of a 
well-known writer and mother of an actress. (This 
activist was probably the most candid about her 
comfortable status within the community, confessing at 
one point; "Social workers get very irritated with 
people like me... I don't blame them. . . They keep on 
telling me that you are doing it to compensate for the 
fact that you have lived in an easy position. It's 
probably perfectly true that I'm compensating for my 
wealthy American background" (MP, Op Cit)). 
While all nine activists lived quite modest lives (none 
of them flaunted their money), it could reasonably be 
said that all were 'comfortably off'. That is, none 
were, at the time of the power station debate, 
preoccupied with - to paraphrase Tynan - 'keeping 
themselves from drowning'. Furthermore, all were 
educated, articulate and confident: The sort of people 
who would stand a good chance of finding a new job 
should they be made redundant. (The activists stood in 
sharp contrast to a significant proportion of Sands End 
residents whose lack of skills (see previous chapters) 
and education would make them difficult to place in the 
emerging service-oriented Metropolitan economy of the 
1980s). 
The middle-class composition of TERROR at the time of 
the power station debate confirms Lowe and Goyder's 
analysis of the class composition of environmental 
groups in general. Thus, in Environmental Groups In 
Politics, Lowe and Goyder observe that "Members of 
478 
environmental groups are predominantly middle class" 
(Allen and Unwin, Britain, 1983, p. 10). In their 
analysis of the class composition of the memberships of 
Friends of the Earth and the Conservation Society, the 
authors conclude that; 
Compared with a sample survey of the general 
public, they tend to have higher incomes and 
much higher levels of education (a majority of 
the members of both groups have 
degrees) 
... 
[The memberships] are drawn 
disproportionately from the personal service 
professions, such as teaching, social work and 
medicine (Ibid, p. 11). 
The 'compositional elitism' of British environmental 
groups is also characteristic of their American 
counterparts, where "The modal member of an 
environmental organisation is a college graduate, holds 
a professional-level job, and has an above-average 
income" (Morrison, D. E., and Dunlap, R. E., 
'Environmentalism and Elitism', Environmental 
Management, Volume 10, No. 5, p. 582). 
The fact that most of the power station activists were 
middle class newcomers to Sands End - albeit that some 
had settled there in the 1970s - raises an interesting 
question. How would a non-gentrified, and predominantly 
working class Sands End have reacted to the 
decontamination and demolition of Fulham Power Station? 
Would they have protested, or would they have asked that 
the building be demolished as quickly as possible so the 
land could be redeveloped for new industries, housing 
and amenity? Certainly, one of the activists - the only 
one native to Sands End - was firmly of the opinion that 
479 
what little environmental sensibility the area possessed 
had been introduced by middle class 'settlers'. As she 
put it; 
I think people are far more [environmentally] 
conscious because there has been a change of 
people living in this area (CD, Op Cit). 
This observation has certain resonances with Lowe and 
Goyder's view that "Higher social groups... [show] a much 
greater awareness of... those forms of pollution whose 
effects are.. . much 
less tangible than visual or noise 
pollution" (Op Cit, p. 13). The implication is that, 
before gentrification, the community was more concerned 
about such tangible threats as road hazard, smoke, 
odours and traffic and aircraft noise than about the 
possible long-term health effects of asbestos dust - an 
odourless dust so fine as to be invisible in the 
general, non-workplace environment. 
It is possible that the hostility shown by some Sands 
End residents to the power station activists (see, for 
example, the testimony of 'CD' in Chapter 7) derived, in 
part, from a belief that there were far more urgent 
threats to public health - tangible hazards that one 
could actually see, hear and smell - than a possibly 
carcinogenic dust that one could not see, and which 
might cause cancer in a small number of people some 
twenty or thirty years hence (see Chapter 5). 
480 
3.3 Conclusion. 
Thus the socio-economic conditions of Sands End 
influenced the dynamics of the power station debate in 
two ways. Firstly, as shown above, the relative poverty 
of the majority of residents gave them plenty to think 
about besides the demolition. Secondly, the relative 
prosperity of a minority of residents provided the 
circumstances under which a protest group could form and 
flourish. Those who became active were, without 
exception, comfortably off (although not wealthy), well 
educated, articulate, confident and blessed with a 
certain amount of spare time. As one of the activists 
explained, the campaign had given them 'a purpose'; 
[I felt] slightly bereft [when the campaign 
finished], because when anything comes to an 
end, you have to get back to reality. Some 
people wanted it to continue. They'd found a 
purpose, a voice (TR, Op Cit). 
The 'purpose' of the majority of Sands End residents at 
this time, however, was maintaining their financial 
viability. 
4A Climate for Protest? 
The events in Sands End during 1983/1984 obviously 
occurred in a national, as well as a Borough-wide and 
Metropolitan social, economic and political context. 
Given the focus here on the impact of context on 
attitude and action, it would seem reasonable to look at 
trends and events outside London in the nation as a 
whole, some of which may well have impacted on the 
481 
community in Sands End. 
Of particular interest is the degree of importance 
people in general - that is, the 'great British public' 
- attached to questions of environmental risk and 
disamenity. At the time of the debate, Lowe and Goyder, 
in their study of British environmentalism, were able to 
write that "The environmental movement seems to be well 
established as a permanent feature of the political 
scene" (Op Cit, p. 5). In 1983, one person in ten 
belonged to an environmental group. This made the 
environmental movement of the early 1980s, according to 
the authors, "A major social phenomenon" (Ibid, p. 1). 
Extrapolating from Lowe and Goyder's research, it would 
appear that the majority of Sands End residents were out 
of step with the evolving environmental consciousness of 
the rest of the country. 
Later research, however, has revealed a marked 
disjuncture between the sorts of things people 
sympathetic to the environment say should be done to 
save it, and the degree to which those people are 
prepared to modify their behaviour to realise their 
environmental aspirations. For example, in its 1994 
public opinion survey, British Social Attitudes, Social 
and Community Planning Research (SCPR) discovered that 
although many people wanted to reduce the impact of the 
motorcar on the environment, only 18% of respondents 
were either 'strongly' or 'somewhat in favour' of 
'putting up taxes on petrol each year for the next ten 
years to get people to cut back on driving'. This rather 
482 
negative response to a constructive environmental 
measure led the Report's authors to conclude that 
"Respondents tend to express much higher levels of 
concern at the general level than they do when asked 
analogous questions at" the specific level" (Op Cit, 
Dartmouth, 1994, p. 130). 
Moreover, when people were asked to consider how much 
the government should spend on its environmental 
programme in relation to its social programmes, although 
54% of respondents wanted the government to spend more 
on the environment, 78% wanted more spent on pensions, 
79% wanted more spent on education and 87% wanted more 
spent on health (Ibid, p. 7). 
Clearly, in the 1990s in Britain, most citizens 
prioritise social risks over environmental risks - at 
least in terms of government spending priorities. The 
SCPR survey reveals quite conclusively that although 
many might profess concern for the environment, few are 
prepared to act to save it. Indeed, the survey states 
quite bluntly that "[M]uch of the British public's 
concern about the environment is (still) relatively 
superficial" (Op Cit, p. 107). 
Thus, the SCPR survey, although conducted on a national 
basis some ten years after the power station debate, 
provides some interesting background on the strength of 
the British public's commitment to issues of 
environmental risk and hazard, and on how the public 
prioritises issues of environmental risk in relation to 
issues of social risk, like health, education and old 
483 
age. 
Of course, given that different communities see 
('construct') the world in different ways, it is 
dangerous to extrapolate from the general to the 
specific. It is quite possible, for example, that even a 
community with major socio-economic problems would 
choose to address local environmental risks and hazards 
first (see, for example, the opposition of a poor 
community in the States to a proposed landfill site, as 
described in Chapter 2). 
Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the SCPR's 
general conclusions do have certain resonances with the 
behaviour of the majority of Sands End residents during 
the power station debate - as they do with the behaviour 
of certain political actors today: witness, for example, 
the historic and contemporary devotion of the Labour 
Party and TUC to economic growth as the prime objective 
of government (see Chapter 2). 
We may well live in a version of Beck's 'reflexive 
modernity', in that we are more conscious today of the 
multiplying risks and hazards of our fin-de-siecle 
world, but, if the SCPR survey is correct, few Britons 
are prepared to express their consciousness in terms of 
promoting and paying for antidotes to the Risk Society - 
especially antidotes that threaten the current standard 
of living. In short, in Britain today, as in Sands End 
in 1983/1984, it is doubtful whether, for the malority; 
"The commonality of anxiety takes the place of the 
commonality of need" (Beck, Op Cit, p. 49). 
484 
5 The Verdict. 
This thesis set out to discover "What effect, if any, 
the historic and contemporary socio-economic conditions 
and expectations of the community of Sands End, Fulham, 
London, had on the character and dynamics of the 1983- 
1984 debate over the decontamination and demolition of 
Fulham Power Station? " 
It has been shown that the neighbourhood's historic and 
contemporary socio-economic conditions did have an 
effect on the character and dynamics of the Fulham Power 
Station debate. Thus, many residents were too 
preoccupied with their own financial and social security 
to actively participate in the debate. As Tynan might 
have said, 'They were too busy keeping their heads above 
the rising waters of financial insolvency and social 
disintegration'. This meant that the campaign was lead 
by a group of middle-class gentrifiers (albeit that some 
of them had moved into the neighbourhood in the 1970s). 
The protest group achieved much, including a spectacular 
reversal of government policy on power station sales. In 
this respect, Beck's vision of a 'vibrant sub-politics' 
as a catalyst to change would appear to have some 
foundation. 
But, as has been shown, the power station group was 
hardly representative of the community from which it 
sprung. This raises certain awkward questions. If, as 
Beck insists, "Citizens' groups have taken the 
485 
initiative thematically in this society" (Beck in 
Featherstone, Op Cit, p. 116), and if these groups come 
from a narrow social base, and if, as in Sands End, they 
are profoundly undemocratic, whose interests, exactly, 
are they purporting to represent? The issue of airborne 
asbestos dust was obviously of great concern to group 
members. But these were people with few serious 
financial or social security worries. They were all 
comfortably off. While not wishing in any way to 
diminish the group's achievements, it is nevertheless a 
fact that they pushed the asbestos issue on to an 
already crowded local political agenda - an agenda that 
addressed some very pressing social and economic issues. 
It may well be that the resentment shown by some locals 
towards the activists, and the non-participation of the 
vast majority of the community in the campaign, 
reflected a certain unease at the amount of publicity 
the group was getting locally - publicity that some 
people felt should go to issues like economic 
regeneration. Perhaps this is why someone changed the 
legend daubed on the power station's Townmead Road 
boundary wall from 'Asbestos Dust Kills', to 'Fear and 
Lies of Asbestos Dust Kills'. It may also explain why 
the two local councillors skirted around the debate. The 
activists, of course, attributed their reticence to 
'laziness' and 'indifference'. But it may be that part 
of the reason for their non-involvement was their 
preoccupation with the area's other problems - problems 
they might have believed to be of greater import. 
Thus it could be said, in light of the Fulham Power 
486 
Station debate, that the practice of 'sub-politics' may 
not be an entirely healthy democratic development - 
especially if sub-political groups are socially 
unrepresentative, undemocratic, and absorb energies that 
might be more productively devoted to issues like sub- 
standard housing, low wages, poor conditions of work and 
unemployment - all of which have been shown to 
contribute to ill health and premature death. (As the 
JRF report 'Life on a Low Income', published in June, 
1996, put it; "[I]nadequate housing, job insecurities 
and money worries appear to be part of the link between 
low income and a greater likelihood of ill health" 
(p. 3); See, also, Chapter 3, above). To conclude, the 
problem with 'sub-political' groups is that they can 
skew the political agenda, especially if they are as 
good at media management and publicity as the power 
station group was. 
The power station activists were never luddite, anti- 
science or anti-industry, although they did articulate, 
to use Beck's phrase, "A growing critique of 
modernisation" (Risk Society, p. 20). Some activists, for 
example, had general concerns, such as the ubiquity of 
pollution, the integrity of industrial managements and 
the competence and commitment of industry regulators, 
while others had more specific worries, like nuclear 
safety and gas-contaminated land. While these concerns 
were genuinely held, it should be remembered that they 
were articulated by a protest group whose membership was 
composed entirely of middle-class gentrifiers. It is 
possible, of course, that such a discourse would have 
487 
developed in Sands End had there been no gentrification. 
However, it is equally possible that, given the 
neighbourhood's long and relatively harmonious and 
productive relationship with science and technology (see 
Chapter 3), such a discourse would not have developed 
without the gentrifiers' activism. Certainly, within the 
community at the time of the power station debate, there 
were some who refused to believe that asbestos, an 
essential ingredient in the undisputed success of Fulham 
Power Station, could endanger health. (In 1948, Fulham 
Power Station had the highest thermal efficiency of any 
coal-burning power station in Britain (CEGB, 1961, Op 
Cit)). 
It may be the case, therefore, that the growing 
critique of modernisation' is a peculiarly middle-class 
preoccupation. 
Certainly, Raymond Williams, writing in 1958 about the 
experience of the British working class - the class from 
which he came - would brook no criticism of 'techno- 
scientific development': 
For one thing I knew this: at home we were 
glad of the Industrial Revolution, and of its 
consequent social and political changes. True, 
we lived in a very beautiful farming valley, 
and the valleys beyond the limestone we could 
all see were ugly. But there was one gift that 
was overriding, one gift which at any price we 
would take, the gift of power that is 
everything to men who have worked with their 
hands. It was slow in coming to us, in all its 
effects, but steam power, the petrol enctine, 
electricity, these and their host of products 
in commodities and services, we took as 
quickly as we could get them, and were glad. I 
have seen all these things being used, and I 
have seen the things they replaced. I will not 
listen with patience to any acid listing of 
them - you know the sneer you can get into 
488 
plumbing, baby Austins, aspirin, 
contraceptives, canned food. But I say to 
these Pharisees: dirty water, an earth bucket, 
a four-mile walk each way to work, headaches, 
broken women, hunger and monotony of diet. The 
working people. . . will not listen (and I 
support them) to any account of our society 
which supposes that these things are not 
progress: not just mechanical, external 
progress either, but a real service of 
life 
... 
[I]n the'new conditions, there was more 
real freedom to dispose of our lives.. . Any 
account of our culture which explicitly or 
implicitly denies the value of an industrial 
society is really irrelevant; not in a million 
years would you make us give up this power [My 
emphases] (Williams, R., Resources of Hope, 
Verso, Britain, 1989, p. 10). 
Williams' discourse is relevant to Sands End. The power 
station, built by and for the people of Fulham, gave a 
poor community heat, light and many hundreds of badly 
needed jobs - skilled jobs, at that - over a very long 
period. Consequently, the community, once indebted to, 
and still proud of 'their' power station, may have found 
it difficult to conceive of it as a source of danger. 
Their historical experience of the power station as a 
source of comfort did not gel with the activists' 
construction of it as a source of threat. This led to 
open displays of hostility towards the activists. As one 
campaigner recounted, "It was quite difficult using the 
local shops ... I remember having an argument with the 
greengrocer about that very issue, because he had worked 
in the power station, and as far as he was concerned, 
there was nothing wrong" (CD, Op Cit). 
Thus the historic and contemporary socio-economic 
conditions and expectations of the community of Sands 
End affected the character and dynamics of the power 
station debate in three ways: 
489 
1. The relative poverty of the majority of those native 
to Sands End mitigated against active involvement in 
environmental risk debates. People had more pressing 
socio-economic needs to address (although it should be 
remembered that each of the two public meetings 
organised by TERROR on the power station issue attracted 
150 people). 
2. Gentrification promoted a new environmental 
consciousness within the neighbourhood. Newcomers with 
the luxury of time and money were able to address Sands 
End's environmental problems. 
3. The community's beneficial association with Fulham 
Power Station (and, by inference, with asbestos), may 
have made the activists' discourse less credible. 
In 1983/1984, as far as most of the residents of Sands 
End were concerned, the main risks and hazards were 
economic and social. Limited energies were, perforce, 
directed to these immanent threats. 
At the same time, as far as a small number of 
economically and educationally enfranchised gentrifiers 
were concerned, the main risk was thought to be airborne 
asbestos dust. But then, these people had no experience 
of Fulham Power Station as 'a real service of life', and 
no experience of Sands End as a social and economic dead 
end. 
Ulrich Beck has observed that we live in a world of 
490 
"Exponentially increasing risks" (Risk Society, p. 47). 
Such risks - the product of dysfunctional techno- 
scientific development - have produced, says Beck, a 
'Risk Society'. I contend, however, that Beck's 
definition of the Risk Society is flawed, in that it 
fails to seriously consider the influence - even in 
First World countries - of persistent, unmet social and 
economic needs on risk debates. Beck's evocation of the 
'Risk Society' is too partial - too focused on the 
environment. He forgets that the 'Risk Society' is both 
environmentally and socially constituted, and that in 
certain 'welfare states of the West' the Nirvana of 
'post-materialism' has not yet been achieved. 
491 
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Chapter 7: Bibliography 
AF: Interviewed October 21,1993 
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1983 
Anon. in Charman, P. 'More Asbestos Fears', Time 
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Bligh, C. in 'Sands Of Time Run Out In Sands End', 
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CD: Interviewed September 17,1993 
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DN: Interviewed November 24,1993 
Harding, P. in 'Give Power To The People', West 
London Observer, May 19,1983 
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JG: Interviewed October 23,1993 
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JT: Interviewed October 11,1993 
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Martin, M. in Caffrey, N. 'If You're Feeling Ill 
Claim Compensation', The Fulham Chronicle, July 
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MP: Interviewed September 27,1993 
'Precis Of Matter Delivered Verbally To Inquiry 
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PR: Interviewed October 15,1993 
Proffitt, D. in Bresler, K. 'Furious Residents Up 
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TR: Interviewed September 28,1993 
VW in 'Families Fight Bulldozing Of Power Station', 
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VW in Caffrey, N. 'Mixed Welcome For New Asbestos 
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VW: Interviewed October 5,1993 
Chapter 8: Bibliography 
AF: Interviewed October 21,1993. 
Caffrey, N. 'If You're Feeling Ill Claim 
Compensation', The Fulham Chronicle, July 29, 
1983 
CD: Interviewed September 17,1993 
(1985) Discussion Document: Access to Health and 
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DN: Interviewed November 24,1993 
Giddens, A. (1994) Beyond Left and Right: The 
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Harrison, P. (1983) Inside the Inner City, 
Britain: Penguin 
'Inside London', Radio London, July 31,1983 
JT: Interviewed October 11,1993 
Morrison, D. E. and Dunlap, R. E., 'Environmentalism 
and Elitism: A Conceptual and Empirical Analysis', 
U. S.: Environmental Management, Volume 10, No. 5 
MP: Interviewed September 27,1993 
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Slovic, P., 'Perceived Risk, Trust and Democracy', 
Risk Analysis, Volume 13, No. 6,1993 
(1994) The Governance Gap: Quangos and 
Accountability, Britain: Joseph Rowntree 
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TR: Interviewed September 28,1993 
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and Elitism', U. S.: Environmental Management, 
Volume 10, Number 5 
Scott, 'Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity', 
Sociology of Health and Illness, Volume 16, Number 
1, January, 1994 
SCPR (1994) British Social Attitudes, Britain: 
Social and Community Planning Research 
Williams, R., (1989) Resources of Hope, Britain: 
Verso 
'World Leaders Urged To End 'Holocaust'', The 
Guardian, October 15,1994 
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APPLICATION FOR THE SUPPLY OF 
ELECTRICAL ENERGY. 
To the hol. ol GH ELECTRICAL ENGINEER. 
LLECTRic LIUHTISG 11'ATION. 
TÜ't N LEAD ROM). 
FULHAM. SAN 
No. of 
Application. 
Uatr 
Ifecciced. 
Date Installa- 
uun passed. 
Date supply 
commrnced. 
I 
hcr, 
_ 
l richest to he furui., hctl with such supply u, E cuctY 
: tý may be required to meet the demand of the number of lamp.;, etc., 
Div cn in the tulle at the foot hereof. at the rates named overleaf. and 
I 
hereby a rec to conform to the Regulations, Conditions. etc., put \\' E 
into farce ln" tht Council (rout time to tittle in respect of supplies of 
energy. 
shall require the supply on or about the appr0xiniate 
date. t()o 
S1d\ Tut I 
ADDRESS 
llatc of application. 
I)c, criptio u art tl! cniise' to be , upplied. 
. uici . ui In -.: 
ýC. p.: ý-c. {ý. ý_"c. p. Arc oI rs. . 
Amyoth-rýýo 
i.. unr L. unp>. i_amps. Lawp;. Iýý. ýice. 
ý. a I1a11W, : 1,11(1 dl1(d: of thy A\ 
iriii Conmictor IU lv,, 1', C TI ! 1CCt' . - 
OF 
Appendix 7 
How to Read 
your 
Electricity Meter 
s 
Borough of Fulham Electricity 
Supply. 
Our Charges are :- 
PER UNIT 
Lighting ------ 41d. 
Power, Heating and Cooking -- 1ld. 
For further particulars upply: - 
Showrooms, 
603, Fulham Rd., Walham Green, S. W. 6 
E. D. A. No. 452 
May, 19Z4. 
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Appendix 8 
Metropolitan Borough of Fulham. 
PROGRAMME 
V. 
OF THE 
'ý 
i-' 
ýIFIFIICIIAIL 
OIPIEINIIIICIG 
OF THE 
IFNJILHAIN POff'E1R2 STA1rIION, 
towinmeäd Road, S. W. 6, 
THE WORSHIPFUL THE MAYOR 
(Councillor S. Vanderhook, J. P., M. R. S. T. ) 
26th September, 1936, 
At 2.30 p. m. 
1, 
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CM Lý 7n tfý 
r, 
(Mie C Mayor, 
-Aldermen and 
(2ouncd/ors 
o[ ilie 
\//Gelro, 7oliian c0oro 
h 
of CJt111ar 
recfuesi ! 
%e ß%asure of fie (pomßany of 
at the 
Qfmning 
of the 
Yrst 
O eclion of 
die 6xiens: 
ons of 
dw, 
C. . 
/Barn 
CJOwwer C latlon, wmnuatý 
9,,. dß o 
? 06, 
by (J(;, 'ilýiör, lýir Ilia q)layor (COUNCILLOR S. VANO[RNOOK. H, A. a. T., . i. ºJ 
on c ai. rdav, 26th U' efiteinber, 1936: ai 2. "O fi. iii. 
THIS CARD WILL R. S. V. P ON [NCLO[[o CHEO NOT TEE 
THAN THE 
3TN 1[. T[M[[11 TO THE TOWN CL[MR. 
N0TA. 0MIT TOWN All. FULHAM. ". W.., 
-- ----- -- -------- 
_43 tMETROPOLITAN BOROUGH OF FULHAM. 
OPENING he 
FULHAM STATION 
by the W HIPFU THE MAYOR 
Councillor S. ook, J. P., M. R. S. T., 
at 3 p. in. Saturday, Sept. 26th, 1936. 
Ad mit ................................................................................. Ticket holders are requested to be seated not later than 2.35 p. m. 
This card must he retained for subsequent prnduction at the Town Hall 
Buses 26.23 and 91 to Wandsworth Bridge. Private cars should enter Townmesd 
Road only from Wandsworth Bridge Road and park in the place shown on tho 
label enclosed. 
MORNING DRESS. 
Appendix 9 
Appendix 10 
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Generating . _.. _. _ ý1... 
-LEGEND . K. _ýý . ý.. -w........ . 
Gen'':. Road closure 
l Sca 2 
Ii. "" Access routes --- 
\ý 
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