A Man's Home Is Their Castle
Empty mansions abound in some of London's poshest neighborhoods, and squatters are filling the voids.
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Rusty metal rubs against swollen wood, the sound reverberating in the middle of the night. With a final push, the front door opens, and for a few moments, the group stands silent.
A siren wail in the distance breaks the tension; somebody laughs and puts out a cigarette. A couple of flashlights shine into the doorway, and one by one, four squatters carrying backpacks and plastic bags enter the mansion, the last one shutting the door.
“Wow, this place is big,” says Kitty, a bespectacled 24-year-old from Trinidad.
Indeed, the house they have just entered in Hampstead Garden Suburb, one of London’s most exclusive areas, belonged to the late Indonesian president Suharto. In 1999, when an inquiry began into his immense fortune and extravagant lifestyle, the property was reportedly sold for more than $15 million.
Today, like a number of other mansions in the neighborhood, it is owned by a development company that intends to demolish and replace it. But because planning applications in Hampstead Garden Suburb, a protected area, can take very long to be approved, properties may sit empty for years.
The vacant homes have become a prime target for squatters who settle into luxurious (or once luxurious) homes without permission from the owners. Young and educated, these ambitious gate-crashers are often motivated by a desire for adventure more than a need for shelter. And they’re aided by English law—squatting is regarded as a civil offense rather than a criminal one. Squatters cannot be forcibly removed by police without a court warrant, and will not incur any penalty if they leave voluntarily. They can even become the legal owners of a property if no one claims it, says a Ministry of Justice spokeswoman. “This means a person could obtain ownership of land by being in possession of it over a prolonged period of time, usually 10 or 12 years.”
Needless to say, they are less than welcome by many residents—though several homeowners declined to talk publicly.
“Squatting is highly undesirable and has to be dealt with,” says John Marshall, an elected official for Hampstead Garden Suburb. “It shouldn’t happen in any residential area because squatters trash the property they’re in, and they’re completely indifferent to the impact their antisocial behavior has on others.”
The number of squatters in England today is estimated at about 15,000, down from a peak of 50,000 in the 1970s. But housing prices have increased far faster than average incomes have over the past 10 years, and it is estimated that more than 600,000 homes are vacant in England at any given time—nearly 90,000 in London alone—giving ample incentive and opportunity to squatters.
“One knows that if a house is left empty, sooner or later it will be broken into,” says a Hampstead Garden Suburb resident who is sympathetic to squatters. “These folks need a place to live, [and] if you just look out of the window, you’ll see why they might want to live here.”
A siren wail in the distance breaks the tension; somebody laughs and puts out a cigarette. A couple of flashlights shine into the doorway, and one by one, four squatters carrying backpacks and plastic bags enter the mansion, the last one shutting the door.
“Wow, this place is big,” says Kitty, a bespectacled 24-year-old from Trinidad.
Indeed, the house they have just entered in Hampstead Garden Suburb, one of London’s most exclusive areas, belonged to the late Indonesian president Suharto. In 1999, when an inquiry began into his immense fortune and extravagant lifestyle, the property was reportedly sold for more than $15 million.
Today, like a number of other mansions in the neighborhood, it is owned by a development company that intends to demolish and replace it. But because planning applications in Hampstead Garden Suburb, a protected area, can take very long to be approved, properties may sit empty for years.
The vacant homes have become a prime target for squatters who settle into luxurious (or once luxurious) homes without permission from the owners. Young and educated, these ambitious gate-crashers are often motivated by a desire for adventure more than a need for shelter. And they’re aided by English law—squatting is regarded as a civil offense rather than a criminal one. Squatters cannot be forcibly removed by police without a court warrant, and will not incur any penalty if they leave voluntarily. They can even become the legal owners of a property if no one claims it, says a Ministry of Justice spokeswoman. “This means a person could obtain ownership of land by being in possession of it over a prolonged period of time, usually 10 or 12 years.”
Needless to say, they are less than welcome by many residents—though several homeowners declined to talk publicly.
“Squatting is highly undesirable and has to be dealt with,” says John Marshall, an elected official for Hampstead Garden Suburb. “It shouldn’t happen in any residential area because squatters trash the property they’re in, and they’re completely indifferent to the impact their antisocial behavior has on others.”
The number of squatters in England today is estimated at about 15,000, down from a peak of 50,000 in the 1970s. But housing prices have increased far faster than average incomes have over the past 10 years, and it is estimated that more than 600,000 homes are vacant in England at any given time—nearly 90,000 in London alone—giving ample incentive and opportunity to squatters.
“One knows that if a house is left empty, sooner or later it will be broken into,” says a Hampstead Garden Suburb resident who is sympathetic to squatters. “These folks need a place to live, [and] if you just look out of the window, you’ll see why they might want to live here.”
The 800-acre community was built in the early 20th century as an antidote to inner-city overpopulation. It is surrounded by nature reserves and enjoys magnificent views over a quiet stretch of Hampstead Heath, one of Londoners’ favorite parks.
In the summer of 2006, another group of squatters moved into a property around the corner from Suharto’s. It used to be the residence of a former owner of London’s Wembley Stadium, and in 2005 was used as the home of the character played by Kevin Costner in the film The Upside of Anger.
It was spotted by Calin Ciufudean, a 31-year-old Romanian landscape gardener who worked in the area. “I wasn’t fazed by people with money, their wealthy streets and tight security,” he says. A group moved in and, busying themselves with power tools and cleaning supplies, transformed the dilapidated house.
“I put myself into the owners’ situation,” Ciufudean says. “I wanted them to benefit as much as I did by living there for free.”
The story, which grabbed the attention of the local and national media last year, helped to change the generally widespread perception of squatters as unemployed outcasts. But the publicity also spurred the property developers who owned the mansion to begin an eviction process.
Ciufudean and friends had already found a new property just a stone’s throw away. Ciufudean remembers contacting the owner, a private landlord who spends most of his time abroad: “I told him ‘We are in your house, we live here, we’ve got some mail for you. Do you want to come and collect it?’ He must have appreciated that honesty, and when he came around, he was keen to compromise.”
Today, they are still enjoying their home with none of the worries or downsides usually attached to squatting, such as hostile owners or lack of basic amenities. They have running hot water, electricity, and wireless internet connection, for which they regularly pay bills.
However, Ciufudean knows that a squat is not forever. All squatters have stories of eviction, often sudden and sometimes violent, and soon he and his roommate may again need to move.
“Squatting might take some certainties away from you,” he says. “But it will give you something else in return. It keeps you sharp; it keeps you on your toes.”
In the summer of 2006, another group of squatters moved into a property around the corner from Suharto’s. It used to be the residence of a former owner of London’s Wembley Stadium, and in 2005 was used as the home of the character played by Kevin Costner in the film The Upside of Anger.
It was spotted by Calin Ciufudean, a 31-year-old Romanian landscape gardener who worked in the area. “I wasn’t fazed by people with money, their wealthy streets and tight security,” he says. A group moved in and, busying themselves with power tools and cleaning supplies, transformed the dilapidated house.
“I put myself into the owners’ situation,” Ciufudean says. “I wanted them to benefit as much as I did by living there for free.”
The story, which grabbed the attention of the local and national media last year, helped to change the generally widespread perception of squatters as unemployed outcasts. But the publicity also spurred the property developers who owned the mansion to begin an eviction process.
Ciufudean and friends had already found a new property just a stone’s throw away. Ciufudean remembers contacting the owner, a private landlord who spends most of his time abroad: “I told him ‘We are in your house, we live here, we’ve got some mail for you. Do you want to come and collect it?’ He must have appreciated that honesty, and when he came around, he was keen to compromise.”
Today, they are still enjoying their home with none of the worries or downsides usually attached to squatting, such as hostile owners or lack of basic amenities. They have running hot water, electricity, and wireless internet connection, for which they regularly pay bills.
However, Ciufudean knows that a squat is not forever. All squatters have stories of eviction, often sudden and sometimes violent, and soon he and his roommate may again need to move.
“Squatting might take some certainties away from you,” he says. “But it will give you something else in return. It keeps you sharp; it keeps you on your toes.”



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