Article
One of the most potent—and dangerous—words used to justify the destruction of Liverpool Street Station’s heritage is “modernisation.” We are told the station must be “modernised” to meet future demands: to allow for better passenger flows, to introduce step-free access, and to accommodate more retail and service options. But what exactly does this modernisation entail—and who defines it? Critically, the term functions as a flexible slogan, not a neutral standard. What is presented as inevitable and technical is in fact highly political. In the case of Liverpool Street, “modernisation” has come to mean the insertion of commercial office towers and expanded retail into historic space. It does not mean repairing the station with care, restoring its civic function, or consulting meaningfully with the public. It means capital injection disguised as civic progress. Developers Setting the Terms The problem is not that Liverpool Street doesn’t need updates—it does. The issue is who sets the criteria for what counts as necessary. In this case, those shaping the redevelopment—Network Rail Property and private developer Sellar—are not heritage experts or civic planners, but entities directly motivated by financial return. The proposal includes a tower of nearly 100 metres, not because such a structure is essential for improving transport, but because leasing premium office space funds the project. The infrastructure is used to justify the vertical real estate. The plan’s language describes “improving user experience,” but this translates largely into expanded retail and food concessions—not passenger comfort, civic openness, or architectural integrity. This is modernisation on commercial terms, not civic ones. The Illusion of Transparency If modernisation is defined and evaluated by the same developers who profit from the transformation, the process cannot be considered transparent or democratic. There is no independent public standard being applied—only what Brett Christophers calls in The New Enclosure the “deep entanglement of state institutions with private real estate logic.” Public consultation exists, but the foundational assumptions are not up for debate: Must we build a tower to fund improvements? Could modernisation occur through retrofit, expansion of existing concourses, or new underground elements? What if the public rejects the trade-off of heritage for height? These questions are rarely posed because the outcome is pre-scripted. Modernisation becomes a Trojan horse, smuggling financial imperatives into the language of civic betterment. Modernisation Against the People What Liverpool Street reveals is that modernisation today often operates as a mask for enclosure. It invites the public to accept destruction of the familiar in exchange for a promise of efficiency and shine. But too often, what’s delivered is a space that looks like everywhere else: Sterile, privately policed concourses Surplus office towers amidst widespread commercial vacancy Architectural homogeneity and cultural amnesia This is not a modernisation that serves the people of London. It serves the spreadsheets of investment managers. Conclusion: Reclaiming the Right to Define Progress To modernise a station should mean to strengthen its public value, improve accessibility, and future-proof its structure with care and dignity. But when that term is co-opted by developers who write their own success criteria, we lose the ability to imagine other futures. Liverpool Street deserves more than a speculative skyline. It deserves a future shaped by public need and democratic debate, not private capital masquerading as modern progress. As George Monbiot has written, “Progress is not a synonym for property speculation.” It’s time we reclaimed the right to define what a modern London looks like—for all of us.
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