How Brighton became the unexpected ground zero for Melbourne’s housing debate

It takes a lot to pierce the serene calm of the so-called Brighton bubble. The privileged comforts here – large houses, proximity to the water – do not typically foment political uprisings.

But, as resident Patricia explains over what appears to be an afternoon glass of chilled wine, the state government’s plans for more housing density in this bayside enclave are worth fighting.

“I have never been to a protest in my life,” she says. “But I was out the door that morning, I got the kids out of bed and said, ‘Right, let’s go’.”

Patricia – who didn’t offer her surname – is among the local crowd at Mazi, a Mediterranean cafe in the courtyard of an old school built in the 1840s. Patrons sip piccolo lattes and graze on caesar salads while surveying the scene on busy Church Street.

The morning fog has lifted and a spritz of humidity clings to the air, enough to give everyone a nice healthy glow as if they have just finished a strenuous pilates class.

But Brighton’s famed tranquillity, derided by outsiders and loved by locals, shatters when the topic of conversation turns to what some are calling the “20-storey towers”.

“Then [Jacinta Allan] turns around and calls us a bunch of whinging Karens. This divisive narrative of the elite versus the rest of the world – it’s nonsense.”

Colleen Harkin

As Melbourne grapples with a growing population expected to hit eight million by 2051 – and the need to build more places for them to live in – Brighton has become the unexpected ground zero in the debate over how to do it.

Rather than relying solely on the outer suburbs alone to do the heavy lifting, the Labor state government believes the answer is increased density close to public transport links in established middle suburbs, including Brighton.

Opponents of the plan, who don’t like to be called NIMBYs or “Karens of Brighton”, are pushing back hard against a vision that will reshape Melbourne’s suburbs – some think for the better, others the worse.

Colleen Harkin, a red sweater draped across her shoulders, takes a sip from her diet Coke as she explains what is at stake if the density push succeeds.

For her, there is not enough focus from Premier Jacinta Allan on preserving neighbourhood character.

The former Liberal Party political candidate, aged in her 50s, has dire warnings of homogenised suburbs right across Melbourne, evoking scenes of endless Soviet-era apartment towers as far as the eye can see.

“This is not just about Brighton. This is about every suburb and its unique character, that local residents choose to live in,” says Harkin, a long-time Brighton local and fellow of the conservative think tank, the Institute of Public Affairs.

“But Brighton is the focus of it because she chose to make the announcement here. And then she turns around and calls us a bunch of whinging Karens. This divisive narrative of the elite versus the rest of the world – it’s nonsense.”

In October, a group of angry locals cried “shame!” at Allan at the nearby Half Moon Hotel, gatecrashing her announcement that identified Brighton among 50 new activity centres for fast-tracked apartment development.

Ten of these pilot centres are already underway in Preston, Camberwell, Frankston and elsewhere, with another 25 named in the latest tranche, including Toorak, Armadale and Malvern.

Height limits will vary but could be up to 20 storeys in the centre of some suburbs.

“The fight becomes about wealthy people having a big whinge. But what’s happening in Brighton is going to happen everywhere.”

Joanne Bryant

The tone of the debate was set by the symbolism of a Labor premier choosing Liberal-voting Brighton to launch the policy. Allan then penned a follow-up opinion piece in The Age calling those in Brighton who opposed her plans “blockers”.

The political strategy of this seems pretty obvious. Set up a battle between young people locked out of the real estate market and the mostly older residents of a suburb with a median property price of more than $3 million.

The feeling in parts of Brighton is that they are the state government’s punching bag. Some use terms like “politics of envy”.

At Mazi, Amanda McSweeney – wearing aviator sunglasses with filtered lenses – explains what she loves about the Brighton vibe: it is beachy, yet cosmopolitan.

“It’s got a very relaxed feel,” she says.

McSweeney has lived all over Melbourne, but eventually landed here. To her, a Brighton home address is a reward for effort.

“It was just purely a situation where she wanted the lemmings to turn out, and we sure did.”

Graeme Goode

“I’ve come from humble beginnings, I’ve worked really hard to be where I am,” she says. “I see the comments about Brighton on social media; they don’t get it.”

Church Street is the centre of the universe in this part of the world – there’s enough here that you never have to leave but not so much that outsiders flock in.

Across the road from where we are sitting is a Lululemon store; in the other direction is the famed people-watching hotspot, the Pantry cafe.

Like others in the area opposed to the government’s plan, McSweeney doesn’t like the way Brighton was pulled into the housing debate.

“I don’t think this was thought through, you just really need to consider how people live in the area,” says McSweeney, aged in her 50s.

Other residents, like Graeme Goode, know a fight has been picked by the premier and have happily come out swinging.

“It was just purely a situation where she wanted the lemmings to turn out, and we sure did,” he says.

Goode, 86, is not a political party member. He has lived in Brighton for 60 years and recently moved into an apartment with his wife, Fay, after downsizing from a family home.

He thinks some density is fine, but not what Labor is suggesting.

“There’s a very strong feeling around the community that Bayside is going to be ruined and we’ve got to save it,” he says.

Brighton Liberal state MP James Newbury has become one of the faces of the opposition to housing density after fronting two rallies against the proposal.

“We will keep using our voice strongly,” the shadow planning minister says.

“We are already seeing other communities across our city protest against these changes and over time we will see more and more Melburnians join the fight.”

It’s an interesting aspect of the rhetoric here – that residents of perhaps Melbourne’s most upwardly mobile suburb see themselves as sticking up for a broader collective united in opposition to more density.

“The fight becomes about wealthy people having a big whinge,” says Joanne Bryant, a Brighton local, occupational therapist and Liberal Party member aged in her 60s.

“But what’s happening in Brighton is going to happen everywhere.”

When asked if everyone opposed is a Liberal member or voter, Harkin suggests we go from table to table at Mazi for a vox pop and ask random patrons what they think of Labor’s “20-storey towers” proposal.

One group of ladies at lunch use words like “disgraceful” and “disgusting”. Others, like Patricia, say it will ruin the area if it goes ahead.

“See,” says Harkin. “No one wants it.”

Any suggestion of NIMBYism is batted away. Locals will point to examples of smaller apartment buildings of two, three or four storeys – such as those along Well Street – saying they fit in with the area.

The economic realities of developers building affordable housing on Brighton real estate are also questioned.

“We’re not blockers here,” says Bayside City Council mayor Hanna El-Mouallem, the only councillor re-elected at the recent local government elections.

“But we are concerned about the livability moving forward, specifically, if these planning decisions are taken out of the hands of councils who get elected by the community.”

The argument, however, is that Brighton’s infrastructure can’t handle a significant influx of more people. They cite inadequate roads, parks, drainage, electricity grid capacity, schools, kindergartens and parking.

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The claim that walkable proximity to a train station will mean fewer cars on the roads is also dismissed as unrealistic.

“It’s a fallacy,” says Bayside deputy mayor Debbie Taylor-Haynes.

“If you have children and you’re going to use the amenities in the area, such as the sporting grounds, swimming pools and so forth, you cannot walk kilometres to those places with young children, you will be driving a car.”

In nearby Hampton, which will have its own activity centre, Felicity Frederico – former Bayside mayor and teal state candidate for Brighton – is urging for more details to be made available.

“People are believing there’s going to be 20 storeys, it’s fear. It’s not going to be that high, but we should know,” the 59-year-old says.

“Whatever happens, it’s got to be done respecting the community. And that’s what we don’t have at the moment.”

Opposition Leader John Pesutto agrees more housing is needed, but he has raised concerns about the lack of consultation under Labor’s plan.

He has also highlighted whether the community can object to towers in their suburb, either through council or the Victorian Civil and Administrative Tribunal.

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The state government rejects any suggestion that 20-storey towers will be built in Brighton.

The activity centre plans include a commercial core, with higher limits currently averaging 12 storeys, and a second walkable area of 800 metres that will not be any higher than six storeys.

Those limits will drop progressively the further away you get from the centre, according to the government.

“James Newbury and the Liberal Party continue to spread lies and fear about our plan to deliver more homes for Victorians,” a government spokesperson said.

Consultation will begin soon to establish suitable heights in each suburb, they said. “This is about giving young Victorians locked out of the housing market the same opportunities afforded to their parents and grandparents.”

That argument resonates with some people who feel pushed out of the area by high prices.

Former Brighton resident Ryan Reynolds is a supporter of the pro-development YIMBY group – Yes In My Back Yard. He’s also a Liberal Party member.

“We’re supposed to be the party of family values and middle-class aspiration and we’re not, right now,” he says.

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Reynolds, aged in his 40s and with three children, lived in Brighton for three years but was forced to leave when his landlord sold up. He moved to the more-affordable Beaumaris.

“We’re like economic migrants,” he says. “Absolutely, we would have stayed.”

Reynolds criticises opponents of the density plan for not accepting that change is necessary for Brighton to become more than a “retirement home”.

Church Street, he says, is dead after dark and full of people with white hair during weekdays.

“I don’t know what people think their suburb will be like if they don’t let it grow,” he says. “It will look like a museum with a gift shop and a place that sells sandwiches and coffees.”

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