If you have encountered a civic society at all, it is probably because it has objected to something: a tower deemed too tall, a cherished building under threat, a planning application that seems to have slipped past unnoticed. From that vantage point, it is easy to conclude that civic societies exist primarily to resist change. Yet that is, at best, a partial truth and, at worst, a misunderstanding of their purpose.

I already had in my untidy drawer of Soapbox ideas the beginnings of  an article to address the question more fully and came across a podcast ‘Talk About London: What powers do civic societies have?’ where my oft received question lay at the heart its most recent edition of Talk About London.

Produced by The London Society, the podcast brought together its chair, Leanne Tritton, Dave Hill of OnLondon and architect Ben Derbyshire, a former President of the Royal Institute of British Architects and now President of the London Forum of Amenity and Civic Societies, who drew on both his professional experience and his long involvement in civic activism. Their discussion explored the origins of the civic movement, the dilemmas it faces today and the responsibilities it must now assume. At their most effective, civic societies, they explained, are not defined by what they oppose but by the more demanding question they pose: how might this place be made better?

To understand civic societies, Derbyshire suggested, one must begin not with planning committees but with the upheavals of the Industrial Revolution. As factories drew workers into rapidly expanding towns, speculative development filled the gaps with housing that was often cramped, poorly built and inadequately serviced. Smoke thickened the air, infrastructure lagged behind population growth, and the absence of a coherent planning system left conditions to deteriorate until they became intolerable.

In that context, reform did not begin with the state but with individuals and groups who refused to accept such conditions as inevitable. Among them, Octavia Hill stands out as a figure of enduring influence. Her work to improve housing for working people, combined with her determination to preserve access to open space, helped to define what we might now recognise as a civic sensibility. Supported financially by John Ruskin and intellectually shaped by earlier reformers such as Robert Owen, Hill demonstrated that practical intervention and moral conviction could be combined to reshape urban life.

Her insistence that people require “the sight of sky and things growing” still resonates in contemporary debates about density, green space and the quality of urban environments. At the same time, her reliance on philanthropy and scepticism towards state intervention remind us that civic virtue has always been entangled with the assumptions of its time. The lesson is not to diminish her achievements but to recognise that civic action must continually reassess its own values.

By the early twentieth century, these impulses had begun to coalesce into more formal organisations. Civic societies in cities such as Bristol and Birmingham emerged with a broader remit than simple preservation, taking an interest in parks, streetscapes, planning and design. Patrick Abercrombie’s call in 1920 for every town to have such a body reflected a belief that informed local engagement could shape both policy and public opinion in constructive ways.

In formal terms, the answer is surprisingly little. Unlike national amenity bodies such as the Victorian Society or the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, local civic societies are not statutory consultees. They possess no right of veto, no guaranteed place in decision-making processes and no obligation on the part of councils to heed their advice.

Yet to conclude from this that they are powerless would be to misunderstand how influence operates in planning. A well-organised civic society can accumulate authority through knowledge, persistence and credibility. By understanding local policy, recalling previous decisions and interpreting technical proposals in terms that resonate with lived experience, it can shape debates in ways that neither individual residents nor overstretched planning departments can easily replicate.

Such influence is neither automatic nor assured. It must be earned, maintained and, when necessary, defended.

Derbyshire’s most pointed observations were directed not at external critics but at the movement itself. Reviewing a sample of campaigns reported through London Forum newsletters, he found that a substantial majority were framed in opposition. While many developments undoubtedly merit challenge—particularly where they conflict with policy, damage heritage or fail to serve the public interest—he cautioned against a reflexive hostility that treats all change as suspect.

The difficulty with an exclusively oppositional stance is not merely that it risks exaggeration or weakens credibility, but that it leaves unanswered the question of what should happen instead. The more effective campaigns, he noted, were those that combined critique with constructive proposals: supporting neighbourhood planning, advocating for better public spaces, promoting retrofit or identifying opportunities for development that could genuinely benefit local communities.
To move from “against” to “for” requires a different kind of engagement. It demands that civic societies articulate what good development looks like, how density might be accommodated without sacrificing quality, and how heritage can be adapted to contemporary needs. In doing so, they shift from being reactive participants in the planning process to active contributors to its direction.

This shift is particularly important given the tendency for civic engagement to occur late in the planning process, once proposals have already been formulated and submitted. At that stage, debate is constrained by existing policies and the practical realities of development, leaving limited scope for fundamental change.

Derbyshire argued that civic societies should instead focus greater attention on the earlier stages of policy formation: local plans, design codes and strategic frameworks that determine what kinds of development are considered acceptable. As planning reforms increasingly emphasise policy compliance and streamline decision-making, the legitimacy of outcomes will depend heavily on the extent to which those policies have been shaped through meaningful public involvement.

This, in turn, requires a move beyond what might be described as consultation theatre—processes that solicit responses without genuinely incorporating them—towards forms of engagement that allow residents to explore options, challenge assumptions and understand the trade-offs inherent in planning decisions. Civic societies, with their capacity to convene and inform, are well placed to facilitate such discussions.

The conversation inevitably turned to London’s housing crisis, which complicates many of the assumptions underlying civic activism. Derbyshire suggested that the prevailing model—reliance on private development to cross-subsidise affordable housing—has become increasingly fragile, undermined by rising costs and contested viability assessments.

Alternative approaches, including greater direct public investment and mechanisms such as housing bonds, were discussed as potential ways to address the shortfall. While no definitive solution emerged, there was agreement that the status quo is insufficient.

This context also reframes debates about development. Opposition to schemes marketed as “luxury flats” may be understandable, particularly where they fail to meet local needs, but a blanket resistance to building risks exacerbating the very problems it seeks to address. The challenge lies in distinguishing between development that contributes to the public good and that which does not, and in advocating for the former while resisting the latter.

Few concepts are invoked more frequently in planning disputes than “local character”, yet its meaning is often left vague. If interpreted narrowly as a requirement for new buildings to replicate the form and style of their surroundings, it can become a barrier to adaptation and innovation.

Derbyshire proposed a more nuanced understanding, in which character is expressed through qualities rather than imitation. Contemporary architecture can respond to the materials, proportions and rhythms of its context without resorting to pastiche. The emerging “new London vernacular”, with its emphasis on brick, depth and a clear relationship to the street, offers one example of how this might be achieved. The objective is not to freeze the city in a particular moment but to allow it to evolve in ways that respect its identity while accommodating change.

*the views expressed here are not necessarily the views of The Kingston Society.