SIX years ago today, when the Grenfell Tower blaze killed 72 people, Britain reeled not just in shock but in anger.
Grenfell was such a clearly avoidable disaster that the usual attempts by authority to avoid scrutiny with pleas not to politicise tragedy were disregarded.
Residents had repeatedly complained about the fire risk to the Kensington and Chelsea Tenant Management Organisation. In November 2016, eight months before the fire, the Grenfell Action Group expressed its despair at having concerns repeatedly ignored: “Unfortunately … only an incident that results in serious loss of life will shine a light” on the organisation’s “malign” character, it predicted with tragic accuracy.
The contempt with which London’s richest borough treated council house residents was directly tied to the deaths by rapper and author Akala: “These people died because they were poor.”
It did not take long for key causes of the blaze to begin to emerge. Sordid details have amassed ever since.
The decision to save money at the expense of safety by replacing fire-resistant cladding with a cheaper alternative.
The gradual emergence through the Grenfell inquiry of the corrupt practices that led to the cladding used being approved in the first place — with former employees of plastic insulation manufacturer Celotex telling the investigation how Celotex rigged tests, manipulated data and abused compliance procedures to get its products approved.
And the in-depth studies by the Fire Brigades Union demonstrating the 40 years of legislation undermining safety standards in the construction industry and the direct role of corporate lobbying in shaping political decisions.
The mere resumé of an inquiry witness like Ken Knight, who combined directing a private fire testing firm from 2004-21 with heading up the London Fire Brigade (2003-7) and acting as chief fire and rescue adviser to the government (2007-13), called out for an overhaul of the sector to prevent such conflicts of interest.
Such an overhaul, and not just in construction and fire safety, seemed possible in the summer of 2017.
If the Grenfell atrocity made the case for change in the starkest terms, the shock advance of Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour Party in the election the week before made that change seem within grasp.
Corbyn’s own heartfelt commiseration with the community attracted respect, contrasting to Theresa May’s perceived aloofness — though the latter at least had the grace to rebuke Tory MPs who jeered Corbyn for wearing a green scarf in memory of the victims on the fire’s second anniversary.
Even right-wing social democrats like the Guardian’s Polly Toynbee believed these events would lead British politics in a radical new direction, saying the “tomb in the sky” of Grenfell Tower would come to symbolise the death of neoliberalism.
Such hopes have been dashed, and survivors and relatives of Grenfell’s victims now express anger at an all-too-typical public inquiry — one that like those on Iraq, or Libya, or the Windrush scandal, will not prompt politicians to address any of the issues it raises.
Business-as-usual politics is back, with the Tories as keen as ever to use excuses like removing EU legislation to ignite bonfires of “red tape” and a discredited deregulation agenda that serves corporate profit, not human safety.
Labour is now happy with the revolving door between corporations and politics and the blurred lines between business and regulation that led to Grenfell.
Indeed, in its ferocious purges of candidates for political office who demonstrate any inclination to challenge the rich and powerful — including the brilliant Kensington MP from 2017-19, Emma Dent Coad — it is deliberately cutting itself off from activists embedded in and concerned to represent their communities, imposing instead the uniform stooges of corporate-dominated professional politics.
That is a guarantee of future disasters. As we remember Grenfell, we must reclaim the spirit of 2017 and the courage to fight for a Britain where it could not happen again.
