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Does Brockwell Park battle prove festivals are another form of gentrification?

When London’s green sanctuaries become private playgrounds, who truly holds the key to public space?

Last month, Brockwell Park underwent its annual transformation from local haven to festival fortress. Surrounded by temporary fencing and housing a swathe of stages and food vans, tens of thousands prepared to descend on the park over a series of weekends.

The beloved patch of greenery has been home to a run of music events for the past few years, each organised by the umbrella organisation Brockwell Live. From Mighty Hoopla to Field Day, these short-stint festivals see Brockwell Park covered in security and crowds for much of the summer – but it’s a shift that many locals are tired of.

Last week, a High Court judge ruled in favour of the Protect Brockwell Park campaign group, which protested the number of ticketed events held on the site. Despite pushback, Brockwell Live has confirmed that their festivals will still ‘go ahead as planned’ this year. But the debate has raised questions around who gets to enjoy public spaces.

Public parks have been a cherished part of British life for centuries. For the Victorians, they represented a ‘commitment to cultivate public good within the public realm,’ and across London, green spaces have long been upheld as shared realms of health, leisure, and democratic congregation.

Some may consider the music festival as an extension of this shared experience, one which makes open space an equally accessible haven for all. But with rising ticket costs and increasingly contentious organisational bodies, these events have placed London’s parks under siege. Across the capital, commercial festivals now occupy a staggering 140 days of the calendar year, a 14% increase since 2024.

The steep steel walls erected around locations like Brockwell Park are perhaps the most imposing visualisation of this exclusivity, one which pushes local residents out of the green spaces they’re rightly entitled to.

In Brockwell Park, the scale of the takeover is impossible to ignore. Brockwell Live’s six events – Field Day, Mighty Hoopla, City Splash, Cross The Tracks, Brockwell Bounce and Wide Awake – shut out local residents for a combined 37 days, displacing the free-to-attend Lambeth Country Show (which draws 120,000 visitors every summer) and sidelining local access.

The ecological toll is equally stark: compacted turf, damaged root systems and stressed wildlife are all unable to adapt to the relentless staging activity.

It was precisely these concerns – ecological damage, restricted access and a lack of genuine public consultation – that propelled Protect Brockwell Park to court. In mid-May, the campaign group secured a landmark ruling that quashed Lambeth Council’s initial certificate, finding the approval process ‘irrational’ and procedurally flawed. Yet, the council’s rapid pivot to issue a fresh legal instrument has only intensified the dispute, leaving many locals feeling unheard and powerless.

For residents of Lambeth – where some 60 percent of households live in flats without private gardens – the stakes are particularly high. Brockwell Park and its peers in South London’s emerging neighbourhoods of Brixton, Peckham and Herne Hill have become de facto backyards for apartment-dwellers and families alike.

To understand the current row, one must see it against the broader backdrop of gentrification reshaping South London. Over the past decade, once-affordable pockets have been overlaid with gleaming developments, artisanal coffee bars and pricey wine shops. Long-standing institutions like community centres and even corner shops have been priced out by rising rents.

The very cultural vibrancy that lured newcomers has been elbowed aside. As The Guardian’s Hugh Muir observed during the Notting Hill Carnival in 2015, ‘Edgy addresses soon become desirable ‘villages’ – and once the poor have gone, they have no way back’.

That carnival clash echoes the battle for Brockwell Park, illustrating how festivals can both celebrate and colonise public space.

Even supporters concede that large-scale events generate crucial revenue – an estimated half-million pounds per festival for local councils – and create jobs for stagehands, caterers and vendors. Yet, these financial gains often accrue to private equity–backed promoters rather than the communities whose parks are leveraged as venues.

It’s a paradox: festivals promise cultural enrichment, yet they frequently undermine the very communal spirit they purport to foster.

So what’s the answer? In Brockwell, campaigners propose sensible compromises: reducing the number of cordoned-off days, shifting dates to avoid school term time, enforcing rigorous ecological assessments and ensuring that a portion of festival profits fund local community projects.

Elsewhere in London, councils have experimented with tiered permitting systems, favouring smaller, locally organised events over multinational productions. These models, though imperfect, hint at a path forward. It’s one that preserves both economic vitality and equitable access.

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