Skip to main content
opinion

Dawn Foster is a contributing editor to The Guardian

As I approached the remains of Grenfell Tower in west London, the ground was littered with chunks of burnt debris. I spent all of the early hours of Wednesday morning there among the debris, speaking to those who had lost everything. The fire raged through the tower for more than 24 hours, leaving at least 17 dead, many missing and more than 70 injured. While firefighters haven't yet determined the source of the fire, many residents told me how angry they were – at the speed with which the flames took hold of the building, the fact that their concerns over safety were ignored for years, and that a number of residents were advised to stay in their flats, which proved fatal for many.

Outside the nearby community centres, the crowds had made it impossible to move. Most were crying and stood worried with friends, waiting for news on loved ones who hadn't contacted them since the blaze and might be in hospital without a phone – or far worse. But there were also scores of volunteers: People from all around London arrived unbidden with donations, from crates of water to trays of homemade cakes, huge bags full of clothes and children's toys, mobile phone chargers, and many who simply brought money to tide over families who have lost everything.

The next day, I spoke with volunteer counsellors who stood in the baking sun listening to teenagers distraught over the night's events, moving only to let through more cars carrying donations. The flood of generosity became so overwhelming that ad-hoc organizers had to beg for donations to be diverted to nearby churches and mosques. As the evening drew on, locals made preparations for Ramadan: Many of the tower's inhabitants were Muslim, and locals were keen to make sure they could break their fast in company, that they were well looked-after.

The response showed the best of Britain: swiftly generous and caring. As one local vicar told me: "I haven't seen a single ego all day. People just helped."

But the circumstances that led to the fire equally reveal the worst side of the country. On Wednesday morning, as the flames took hold, a November blog post from the Grenfell tenants' action group seemed eerily prescient, predicting that it would take a major tragedy before residents' concerns were listened to. Stories from those who lived there suggested this was a disaster waiting to happen: Emergency lighting in the fire escape repeatedly failed to work, mattresses and furniture were left blocking fire escapes and stairwells despite repeated complaints, and there was intense concern over the wiring in the building after several power surges.

The tower stands on the Lancaster West Estate, a very typical British public housing estate, dotted with concrete tower blocks, multi-ethnic and, aside from a few home owners, comprised of low-income families. The tower in particular consisted of 120 apartments, but local politicians estimated that 400 to 600 people lived there. To get to the estate from the nearest tube station, you pass incredibly plush houses, four storeys tall and painted in candy colours, and when you consult an estate agents' window, you realize they're worth in excess of £2-million ($3.4-million).

This is Britain's increasing problem: mass inequality, most acutely seen through housing. Kensington, where Grenfell Tower stands, is the richest borough in Britain, and yet even amidst the huge wealth – one local woman donated a huge bag of "old" designer clothes – there is massive poverty only a few streets away.

Grenfell's residents told me they would never normally see the people who were donating Wednesday: They live a few minutes apart, but essentially in a different country. And for years, in the tower and the wider estate, they've been made to feel unwelcome in the borough. Complaints about housing were simply met with admonishments that they should be lucky to be living in Kensington at all, or with silence. Asking one woman, Dayo, about her experience on the estate, she said, "It's a great place, I love it here, especially the people, but they don't care about us or want us here."

Since 2010, homelessness has doubled in Britain, while house prices have risen every year. Increasing numbers of people are struggling to pay their rent, especially working families. People are worried, with good reason, about gentrification. In rich areas, social housing like the Lancaster West Estate has been targeted for demolition, the tenants sent to far-off parts of the city, and the land rebuilt with luxury flats at a great profit.

The initial response to the Grenfell fire was heartening, and locals were overwhelmed by the generosity shown to them.

But now the real battle begins: to make sure residents are rehoused locally, permanently, and that this is not used as an excuse to demolish blocks like Grenfell Tower, but rather to make them as safe as they should be.

Interact with The Globe