Why boring places like Balmain must be saved from themselves

Balmain holds a special place in Sydney’s history, and its heart. Once a gritty, working-class suburb of dry docks and factories, it has been memorialised as the birthplace of the Australian Labor Party.

Today, of course, it is unrecognisable from those origins. It is more white collar than wharfie, more managerial than mercantile; the median house costs $2.5 million, and they vote Greens (at a state level, anyway).

Balmain: more managerial than mercantile.

Most recently, it has figured prominently in the city’s necessary debate over housing policy, in part because it combines inner-city land, prestige property, widespread heritage protection and a future Metro station.

Many residents fear zoning changes to enable higher density around the Metro station will destroy the Balmain they know and love. There is an implicit or explicit assertion that Balmain is so special it ought not be touched.

I hate to say it, but Balmain isn’t great. It’s not fun, it’s not equitable, it’s hard to get to, it has no real nightlife, it’s boring. When was the last time you heard anyone suggest: “Let’s go out in Balmain?”

And here’s another thing about the joint: it’s getting old. Between 2011 and 2021, the population ticked up from 9783 to 10,454, and the median age of that population increased from 38 to 42.

If this were unique to Balmain, it wouldn’t really matter. Unfortunately, census data shows this phenomenon is playing out across the inner city.

In Darlinghurst, the population only increased by 600 people over 10 years, but the median age jumped from 34 to 37. In Potts Point and Woolloomooloo, the population barely changed, but it aged, from 36 to 39. Surry Hills added 500 residents, and the median age rose from 33 to 35.

Glebe’s population also notched up by 500, but it got significantly older, from 35 to 38. Pyrmont added 1000 residents, and the median age rocketed from 32 to 37. Even in the student haven of Ultimo, the median age increased from 27 to 30, and in Kensington, it went from 28 to 32.

That is quite a dramatic change when you consider that across Greater Sydney (and Greater Melbourne), the median age just ticked up from 36 to 37 in the same timeframe. And the data is from 2021, before the crunch of the post-pandemic rental crisis became fully apparent.

Why is this a problem? Well, these inner areas are supposed to be the city’s vibrant, dynamic and exciting heart. In a successful city, it’s where young people live, learn and play, where artists and musicians and creative types meet and mingle, where they talk about politics and dating, drink, dance, and watch each other perform. It’s where entertainment foments and where entertainers congregate. It’s where the magic happens.

You cannot have a thriving inner-city, with arts and culture and nightlife, if there is no ecosystem of younger people living there. Otherwise, it will just become a place of set menus, U2 cover bands and people reminiscing about backpacking in Europe after the fall of the Berlin Wall.

The horse may have bolted on Balmain, but it’s dispiriting to see suggestions that young people should just move further afield, to the suburbs and the regions, where the property is cheaper. It would be fatal to Sydney as a dynamic city if this were the only feasible option; if people under 35 are pushed further and further away from the social and creative infrastructure of the inner core.

Gentrification is nothing new, of course, and cities change over time. But in the housing debate, there should be some basic recognition that preserving such places for the wealthy has real-life consequences for our city. And the much-vaunted “village vibe” of these inner-city suburbs is the antithesis of what city living is really all about. Villages belong in the countryside; if that’s what you’re after, go there.

We can compare the demographics of Darlinghurst and Glebe to elsewhere in the City of Sydney – the Green Square renewal area, where a lot of new, medium- and high-density housing was built between 2011 and 2021.

In Zetland, where the population more than tripled, the median age fell from 31 to 30. In Rosebery, it dropped from 35 to 33, while in Waterloo, it crept up from 32 to 33. Erskineville was steady at 34.

Does this mean razing Balmain to the ground and erecting towers of student housing? No. But Balmain and places like it should be permitted to change. It is closer to the CBD than a lot of the places where we are building higher-density housing. Maybe we could connect the end of the peninsula directly to the city by bridge or tunnel.

Much opposition to change is borne not of hate for what might come but in love for what is there already. People genuinely adore the places they have made their home. But the data shows stopping change is a fool’s errand. Resisting renewal just leads to other kinds of change, over time.

The other thing we know about change is that although it is often feared, people accept it readily when it comes. Perhaps places like Balmain simply need to be saved from themselves.

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