By Shane Green
SHIMMERING icon or disrespectful blight? These are two sharply contrasting views of the latest proposed edifice to scrape Melbourne's sky, a 71-storey residential tower that will put many buildings around it in the shade, certainly in terms of size.
The vision splendid for the corner of Queen and Bourke streets is Tower Melbourne, described by its developers as a city-defining project that will see us come of age. Melbourne City Council differs. Cr Ken Ong, who heads the planning committee, says icons are fine, but, he asks, do we want an icon that will be a blight on the city?
The final say rests with Planning Minister Matthew Guy, who has a declared passion for residential city skyscrapers as part of a push to increase density and limit urban sprawl.
The reactions say a lot about the tension inherent in the discussion about Melbourne's future. At one level, there is anxiety about the seemingly endless expansion of Melbourne's boundaries and the pressures of life on the fringe. Yet a high-density living idea such as Tower Melbourne produces such angst. We want answers, but not answers like that.
This debate about high-density, high-rise living may seem fresh, but in truth, real-life examples have been with us for the best part of 50 years - though not with the glamorous sheen of Tower Melbourne.
From the 1960s, high-rise residential towers have circled the city, part of a grand vision to rid Melbourne of its slums, led by Liberal premier Sir Henry Bolte and the mandarins of the Housing Commission. And just like the debate over Tower Melbourne, their very existence divides the city.
The high-rises tell the story of post-war Melbourne. While the city was expanding at the fringes in the 1950s, there was growing pressure from the churches over the conditions in the inner-suburban slums.
What happened next is best told by a display in a small corner of the Melbourne Museum, which details the story of how the Atherton Gardens high-rise estate in nearby Fitzroy came about. The Housing Commission embarked on a dramatic program of slum clearance, and in the case of Atherton Gardens, an entire neighbourhood was wiped out: more than 250 buildings over eight streets. It was sweeping and undiscriminating as many well-cared-for homes of migrant families were bulldozed.
Out of the debris grew the ''suburbs in the sky'' - precast concrete towers that drew from the influential French modernist architect and urban planner Le Corbusier, who envisaged apartment blocks stacked on one another. In all, the high-rises were built on 20 Melbourne sites.
The vision, of course, was deeply flawed, as the social problems that existed in the slums simply went skyward. As the museum exhibition notes, many who live there still suffer the social disadvantages of poverty, unemployment and illness.
I have always regarded the high-rise flats - to borrow Cr Ong's word - as a blight, their continued existence a reminder of poor social policy that successive governments have failed to confront and repair. For me, the obvious answer is to tear them down and start again with a low-rise alternative.
But social policy based on the view from a passing car can be a dangerous thing. Margaret Guthrie, from the Victorian Public Tenants Association, says the very visibility of the towers means that lots of people have lots of opinions about them.
Guthrie brings an important reality check. ''I think if you're living in your car or spending time sleeping on relatives' couches, that the thought of having your own private space - even in a high-rise on the 23rd floor or something - would be preferable.''
As Guthrie says, the other human side of the flats is a real sense of community: children from diverse ethnic backgrounds playing together, community gardens, homework groups.
The state government is looking at ways to rescue public housing in Victoria. An auditor-general's report last year said the situation was critical, and basically described a service going broke.
It is clear that something drastic needs to happen; the future of some of our most vulnerable Victorians is at stake. But there is concern that the answer could involve higher rents and less security.
In 1967, Labor's Jim Cairns was speaking out against the plans for the high-rise towers in Richmond. ''People must begin to count for more than money does,'' railed the champion of the Left. His caution remains just as relevant today.
It doesn't have the same media appeal as a proposal for a 71-storey residential iconic tower in the heart of Melbourne, but what happens to the residents of less-glamorous high-rise towers deserves our attention and interest.
Shane Green is a senior writer.