Michael Green

Writer and producer

They all want to change the world

In Community development, Environment, Social justice, The Age on

First published in The Age

Over the past 21 years, one Melbourne building has housed all manner of groups, all with one thing in common: the will to build a better place, as Michael Green reports.

ON FLINDERS Lane, next to the City Library, stands an office building like no other in Melbourne. Behind the front desk, a pink wall is cluttered with posters promoting an array of social causes. A patchwork of flyers waits on a table. The lift walls are coloured with calls to action.

Beneath its gargoyles and giant bay windows, Ross House’s tenants are a rainbow of community groups and causes. Whether the Stroke Association, the Darfur Australia Network, the Aboriginal Literacy Foundation or the Tree Project, the common thread is that all the groups housed here want a more just or environmentally friendly world.

Next week the Ross House Association will celebrate its 21st birthday. Not surprisingly the celebrations will include an indigenous welcome to country as well as music and comedy; the food is being provided by the Asylum Seeker Resource Centre. But after the festivities talk will turn to the association’s big plans for the future.

Ross House is currently owned by the ANZ Trustees but, all going well, the association will take over ownership of its home next year. “We’re getting the keys, basically, so it’s a great time for us,” says Rick Barry, the Ross House Association CEO, describing the move as a “coming of age”.

In its 21 years the five-storey 1890s building has been an incubator for hundreds of community groups, giving them space, facilities and the kick-start that comes with a city address. They come and go, growing bigger or smaller as their funding and needs change. The association charges below market rent, depending on the organisation’s size and capacity to pay. The smallest space leases at about $130 per month.

Committee member Sue Healy has been involved since community groups first moved in. She has the anecdotes befitting such length of service and tells them at pace. “At end-of-year parties in the old days, you started the champagne at breakfast and then you went on to lunch and tea.”

“There’s been conflict too,” she says, like the initial almighty row between the trustees and the tenants, who wanted to manage the building themselves.

The seeds of Ross House were sown in the 1970s when many small self-advocacy groups began to spring up around Melbourne. At a meeting in 1980, a collection of the groups told the Victorian Council of Social Service they needed help to find cheap, secure office space.

A heritage-listed, 1898 building that was originally a warehouse for wholesale importers Sargood, Butler, Nichol & Ewan Ltd was found, and bought with money donated by the R. E. Ross Trust, the state government and others.

Ross House finally opened in 1987 with the goal of supporting self-advocacy groups and thereby helping disadvantaged people take control over their lives. The association has always encouraged groups run by members of the community they serve, and taking control of the building through self-management was an extension of that principle.

Illustrious former tenants include the Wilderness Society and Channel 31, which, according to Healy, began from “a single desk in a cupboard”. One of her most fond memories is of a Slavic women’s group: “They used to come in for a lunch, all athletic ladies. Large, they were.” Among the current tenants, she marvels at the Handknitters Guild on level three. “They’re hand knitters for social justice! They make things and then they donate the money.”

The Blind Citizens of Australia have recently moved in, also on level three, and they are already enjoying the benefits of reduced costs and a greater profile, says executive officer Robyn McKenzie.

“Our members are either totally blind or have a severe vision impairment. Being in the CBD, we’ve been able to increase our volunteer corps because people can actually get to us with ease,” McKenzie says. Another big plus has been the extra networking with other disability organisations in the building.

That collaborative atmosphere has also rubbed off on Matt Bell from Reconciliation Victoria, on level four. “It’s inspiring to come into a building where you’ve got so many great organisations,” he says. “There’s a huge amount of social change and advocacy done from here to strengthen our community. There’s a sense that this is where it’s all happening.”

Youth literary-arts group Express Media has been a tenant on level two since 2006. Tom Rigby, editor of its Voiceworks magazine, says it is a stimulating place to work. “The water-cooler conversations are a lot deeper. They’re more relevant and interesting than you would get in most offices because when people come into the building, they’re switched on. There’s a great spirit around here.”

Taking over ownership of a multimillion-dollar heritage-listed building is a big responsibility, and the committee of management knows it will have to fund-raise extensively to pay for the upkeep of facilities. Barry says they have developed a 20-year maintenance plan to ensure they are ready. The association is also planning an energy audit and retrofit to make the building cleaner and greener. They hope to make it one of the most sustainable office blocks in the city.

Healy has coined her own adjective to describe the ethos of the building — “Ross Housey” — and it peppers her conversation. For example: “The trouble was, they really didn’t run their group in a Ross Housey way.” There was nothing for it. That group had to go.

But exactly what is Ross Housey? “Well, it’s about people having the right to be involved and consulted. To treat everybody with respect, and to respect their opinions if they’re different from yours,” she says, then grins, whispering, “except, of course, if they’re very far right”.

When good neighbours become green

In Community development, Environment, The Age on

First published in The Age

In a new take on reducing emissions, it seems carbon trading, like charity, begins at home.

Neesh Wray and Shaun Murray have just one low-energy light switched on in their Yarraville weatherboard home. It’s illuminating the cosy living room, where a small band of locals are drinking tea and talking about catastrophic climate change.

A meeting of the Westside Carbon Rationing Action Group has just begun. “We see it as an emergency,” says Murray, discussing new evidence of melting Arctic sea ice. But that’s enough talk of gloom and doom for the 32-year-old music teacher. “That’s the climate rave done,” he says. “Now, moving on, we’re here to do something about it.”

In Canberra, the Federal Government is absorbing Professor Ross Garnaut’s final advice on an emissions trading scheme for big business polluters. In Melbourne, neighbours are taking carbon cutting into their own hands and homes.

Carbon rationing action groups, or CRAGs, were first formed in Britain. There, after one year, a survey of seven groups showed that members had reduced their footprints by almost a third.

Here’s how it works: friends or neighbours gather and calculate their carbon emissions – usually covering electricity and gas, as well as car use and flights. CRAG members then set individual reduction targets and meet monthly, sharing tips, stories and progress reports. Some groups even fix fines for exceeding cap, to be paid to an eco charity.

The Westside CRAG has not been so strict. It has met half a dozen times, chatting about how to cut gas and power use, and about the embodied energy in red meat and dairy products.

Murray and Wray have slashed their own carbon pollution and plan to keep improving their habits and their house. “A huge amount of our emissions are the actions of individuals in the way we consume,” Murray says. “I think in order not to be a hypocrite it’s important that your own life reflects the change that you want to see in society.”

Tonight, Steve, a Footscray postman and new member of the group, has brought along a stack of bills. He hands them to Murray, who keys the numbers into an online emissions calculator. As he taps away, conversation simmers over the best brands of green power, the high electricity use of kettles and the efficiency of laptops compared to desktop computers.

Wray explains how she and Murray have cut their electricity consumption to less than a 10th of the national average. A gizmo called a “power mate” helped them work out which appliances use the most power. Another CRAG member, Terry, has done the same in his home and was shocked at the guzzling by electrical goods set to standby. “Fourteen per cent of my power usage was standby power. I was amazed,” he says.

Westside isn’t the only group of its kind in Melbourne. Across town, the Manningham Council has its own CRAG. Once a month, about 50 residents occupy the council chambers and learn how to make their homes more efficient. Conservation officer Bill Pemberton organises meetings on issues from insulation and double-glazing to green power and carbon offsetting. The council has already facilitated a bulk discount purchase of solar power systems for CRAG members and is doing the same for solar hot water.

The attendees’ carbon footprints vary, from well above average to very low. Pemberton says he has seen people “switch on” to the issues, and is sure their next results will be lower. “One of the major benefits of CRAGs is sharing of knowledge,” he says, and the sharing spreads beyond the group. “There are people who have gone to their church and now they are setting up audits of their church facilities.”

In central Victoria, the Mount Alexander Sustainability Group – boasting about 700 eco-minded residents – is also about to start a CRAG. Committee member Felicity Faris believes CRAGs are the perfect approach for local climate change action. “It’s really a good model for community participation because it’s supportive and it’s self-regulating, and people are working towards something within a group that makes them feel valued.”

She is planning cash penalties for CRAG members who do not meet their pledge. The money will go to retrofitting efficient technologies at low-income households in the shire. “We’re aiming for a 20% (emission) reduction for each person or household,” she says. “We hope there won’t be any defaults so, hopefully, at the end we’ll be scratching around for some money for the retrofitting anyway.”

Back in Yarraville, Steve’s calculation is almost in. He sounds a little nervous. “How good am I? Or should that be how bad am I?” he asks. Taking green power into account, which cuts electricity off his scorecard, he registers 4.6 tonnes of carbon emissions in the past year. That’s about half the Australian average under this model of calculation, which excludes food and other purchases of goods and services.

Still, Steve is sure he can do better. The group offer suggestions, from adding extra insulation and sealing draughts, to buying a thermometer so he knows how hot his living room is. “I’ve been overusing my gas heater,” Steve says. “I’ll have to cut back on that.”

A key to the CRAG model is the calculation stage, which is often the first time people understand the link between their habits and their emissions. It can be otherwise hard to connect a decision to leave extra lights switched on with the electricity bill that comes months later.

Yet for the CRAG members the benefit of their new knowledge goes not only to the atmosphere, but also to the back pocket. Wray and Murray now spend more on their electricity connection fee than on consumption.

“For a lot of people it’s possible to make massive reductions in emissions,” Murray says. “If our household can reduce our emissions by 95% in two years, then why can’t government do something about it?”

On Cue

In Community development, The Big Issue on

In the boozy heart of Aussie pub culture, Michael Green finds a sober, tactical sport and community of rising pool stars.

Saturday

The game begins with an ear-splitting ca-raack. Players burst through the shot like policemen shouldering a door. The balls scatter. Twenty-two pool tables are aligned in a hall in suburban south-east Melbourne and at 10:30am, the frames begin. Competitors bend over their shots. Chins on cues, eyes hooded in shadow. We’ve entered the Whitehorse Club open singles eight ball championships. There’s $10,000 at stake.

Alec ‘Ace’ Evreniadis is here to win. The captain of the Australian pool team hasn’t flown from Adelaide just to make up the numbers. Steve Tran hopes to win too, but he’s not so bold as to say it out loud. Last weekend, Steve won the Melbourne Metropolitan Pool League ‘champion of champions’ trophy. Kolbe Poole, the aptly named three-time Victorian female champion, is here from Ballarat and aiming for the top 16.

Pool, or eight ball, is Australia’s pub game. Snooker and billiards are too complex. We choose reds or yellows, bigs or littles, stripes or solids. You know it: the beer-stained distraction in your local bar, where the balls drift sideways, the cues curve like bananas and nobody agrees on one shot or two.

Today, sure, they’re playing pool, but not like we do. Here, the best manoeuvre the balls with surgical precision. Every week, more 10,000 Australians play competitive eight ball. Each state and territory has teams, clubs, divisions, leagues and associations that make up a peak body. The Australian Eight Ball Federation runs annual national titles. This year they’ll be held in Launceston at the end of October. It’s a global game too. Our national over-50s team recently won the world crown.

The Whitehorse is an Italian social club set back from a six-lane suburban artery. Inside, behind pink curtains, players deliberate among the rows of green felt and low yellow lights. The playing floor is stocked with both wooden and denim-clad legs. It’s early but the bar and the greasy bain-marie are already running hot.

Today, 180 entrants – from teenage to old age – will play all day in a round robin on their allocated table. They’ll be cut to 128 for tomorrow’s knockout for the cash. Steve and Kolbe drew the same group, on table eight. Ace is around the corner on table one, the big game table, set apart from the rest. The crew from Pool TV, a Friday night prime-time show on Melbourne’s community Channel 31, has set up their gear and bright lights.

Kolbe is pool by name and by passion. Her partner, Jamie Stevens, is also a state player. She’s five-and-a-half months pregnant and bustles around the table without discomfort. The 29-year-old wears big hoop earrings and does her hair in a high, sporty ponytail. “I’m extremely competitive,” she says. “I hate to lose.”

Her first two frames go poorly, but she’s optimistic. “Hopefully those are my losses and that will be it.” She sips a can of cola through a straw and says her opponents so far, one of them Steve, are the best in the group.

Entrants and hangers-on cuss and banter while they watch. Clanking stubbies and clicking balls add to the din. The organisers call instructions from their desk: “Greg Daffy, table three. The Daff, to table three.” Bottles pile up on benches.

It’s a man’s game. One player tells me that although all types play, “you don’t really get a full cultural mix”. The stereotypical player is “a white, suburban male who’s into having a good car and a job. A conventional, wholesome, white dude.” And with that, comes booze. It’s an occupational hazard for a game held only in licensed venues. Mid-afternoon, a red-eyed man kicks over three chairs after a loss.

For Kolbe, breaking the mould is a blessing and a curse. “A lot of guys don’t rate women in pool,” she says. They get careless, and that helps her pick up a few frames she might otherwise lose. “But then, I don’t do as much practice as I should do. You get to a certain level and you don’t need to put in as much work. Whereas, with the guys, if they drop off for half a second then they’re not going to be making their state side anymore.”

Fresh from a comfortable win, she is playing a young man from Albury with glam-rock hair and tattoos up his arms. Six balls down, she methodically pots them all. To win, she has an easy black over the corner pocket. And misses. Ashen-faced, she concedes, shakes hands and paces away from the table.

Meanwhile, Ace and Steve calmly dispatch their opponents. Frames roll rhythmically on: the click of the cue on the ball; the clack of ball on ball; and the thud of the ball in the pocket.

The best players barely miss. Like chess, they plan tactics well in advance and lay traps for adversaries. They strike the ball crisply and it courses straight and true. Between each shot they chalk their cues meditatively, without paying attention to their hands.

Eight ball, despite the booze, is a logical and rational domain. With a measure of skill, strategy and application, problems can be solved. Each player, while they take their shot, controls their own destiny. In the end, it’s all about black and white.

But today is not Kolbe’s day. She wins her final frame, but after two more losses, it’s not enough to qualify. “I got myself intimidated after I missed the black over the pocket. It hasn’t been the same since.”

Sunday

Competitors carry their cues in long, thin cases. Ace, wearing black dress pants and polished black shoes, is the slickest in the room. “I’m feeling good,” he says. Yesterday, he was tense from the flight and a long practice session.

There’s a hold-up while the organisers clash with their old computer. Tough-guy banter continues to flare around the hall, even though no one is boozing this morning. Ace, also known as Ice Man, secures a position in quiet corner, slips his headphones over his smooth, bald head and waits.

Steve Tran strolls in late. He’s a small, laconic man who has arranged his life around eight ball, and he knew there’d be a delay. The 34-year-old lives with his mother and works the early morning shift in Australia Post’s mail sorting room. Each night, he drives to competition or knockout tournaments around the city. “I’m single. If you’ve got a partner or you’re married it would be pretty hard to play full-on pool five nights a week.”

Each round is a best-of-five-frames knockout. First up, Steve draws Tracy Givvons. “She’s all right,” he says, chuckling. “But she plays with a different set of balls.”

“Go Trace,” a woman calls from the other side of the room. Trace wins the toss and stands up to break. “Watch me tear him a new arsehole!” she declares, to general mirth, and then doesn’t pot a ball. She shoulders Steve he passes. “If you can’t beat ’em, beat ’em up.”

Steve rests one hand in his front pocket and chews gum as he weighs up the winning shots. “I reckon his cue’s bigger than him,” Trace says, drinking a stubby of Carlton. “Before I started playing big tournaments, I’d always go watch Steve play. My favourite person to watch.”

Nobody kids with Ace. Called to table three, he places his two cues – a thicker tip for the powerful break and delicate tip for general play – with a water bottle and hand towel on a chair nearby. Serious and scrupulously fair, he brushes the table down before play, and then comfortably accounts for his opponent. He doesn’t lose a frame through the first three rounds. Click, clack, thud, they keep rolling in.

The 40-year-old owns two poolrooms in Adelaide. “It’s what I do, basically. That’s what I’m here for.” He has big dreams for eight ball – maybe it could even turn pro. “We all believe it’s a sport that could get on mainstream TV, you know. Some people think ‘oh well it’s just a game, you put the balls in the hole with a stick’, but there’s others that just love it. The challenge of it all.”

On table two, Steve has struck trouble. He stands back from the table, arms folded, and watches the final black roll in. A floppy-haired long-shot has beaten him in three straight frames. Later, he debriefs with a friend, Joe. “I didn’t have the run of the balls. At all.” On a spare table, they recreate the exact specifications of his bad luck. Joe commiserates. “It wasn’t your day mate, that’s all. It wasn’t mine either,” he shakes his head.

As the rounds go on, the crowd thins. Steve stays to watch and mingle. That’s the reason he plays, he says. It’s his scene. “I just go to have some fun, meet some people, catch up with friends.”

Kolbe is still here too. She’s playing in the ‘blonks comp’, for non-qualifiers and first round losers. “They’re really good weekends. It is a bit of a community; we’ve got our own little ‘families’ here and there.” Pool is a low-tech pastime, a hand-written letter among the spam of video games and poker machines. Another night, in an inner-city club, a history student tells me the pool hall is his ‘third place’. We pass our lives in our homes and at our workplaces, he says, but need somewhere else to give us a sense of community.

The sun is setting and Ace is still in the race. In the fourth round, he wins 3–2 with cool, clutch shot-making. “Next round now,” he says with a shake of the head. “Only two to win to get into the final.”

The last eight players draw their opponents in front of the Pool TV camera. Ace draws Terry Bond. It will be best-of-seven on table six. Bond has short, white hair and a barrel stomach that hangs well over his belt.

The national captain goes two frames down. In both, he had a shot on the black. Small crowds now hush around each of the quarter-finals. Some Italians from the club are watching, impressed. Ace is looking tired, but then wins the third briskly. It’s only 7:30pm but feels like midnight.

From the break, Ace sends the white ball rocketing off the table. With a two-shot penalty, Bond pots out. Next frame, tension builds. Ace sighs and peers at the angles as his opponent rolls the balls in. That’s it. The black goes. Losing hurts. “He played well. He didn’t give me any second chances,” Ace says, flat. He puts on his jacket, buys a bourbon and calls his wife in Adelaide.

Most frames end quietly, contrasting the riot of the break. Few balls are left on the table and the black rolls in softly, inevitably. It’s over now for Ace, Steve and Kolbe. In the final, Robbo beats Scary 5–4. He wins the money. It’s 1:00am by the time the Pool TV crew clear off. “If you lose, you lose,” Steve says. “Until next time.”

photography by Michael Green

Mixed passages: how public-private housing is shaping up in Melbourne

In Architecture and building, Social justice, The Age on

Private owners are moving into remodelled housing estates, alongside public tenants. Is it a magic potion or a bitter brew?

A white picket fence guards the Kensington Management Company’s office. But the modest, brick building on Derby Street isn’t a symbol of conservative suburbia. Inside, CEO George Housakos and his team are carrying out a bold change in our public housing system.

At nine o’clock, the office begins to bustle. The company’s twelve staff attend to the needs of over a thousand public and private residents. The not-for-profit company is a body corporate and rental business, as well as a service provider for public tenants. “We’re the first model of its kind in Australia,” Mr Housakos says.

On the Kensington site, the state government and Becton Property Group are redeveloping an old public estate.

It’s the first sod turned in a revamped housing strategy: the era of public-only housing will soon meet the wreckers’ ball. Policy-makers are now plotting developments with a blend of owner-occupiers, renters and social tenants.

New Becton CEO Matthew Chun says the company is pleased with the results at Kensington. The renewal project began in 2002, and is now about two-thirds complete and, so far, fully occupied. When it’s finished, there will be 455 private and 435 public dwellings.

Mr Chun believes the mishmash of residents and the design of the buildings work well. “The intent is that you can’t tell the difference between houses occupied by public housing tenants and those owned by the private sector.”

Victorian Minister for Housing Richard Wynne is keen to replicate that model elsewhere. The government has already announced similar makeovers in Carlton and Westmeadows, and will next tackle the Richmond towers. “My goal with all of these developments is to achieve a good public–private mix and to ensure that we don’t get a net loss of public and social housing,” he says.

According to housing expert Professor Bill Randolph, public–private redevelopments have become both a national and an international trend. “It’s happening in North America, it’s happening in England and parts of Europe,” he says. “There’s an international consensus that the old model of building big concentrations of public housing has failed.”

Professor Randolph, Deputy Director of the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (AHURI) at the University of New South Wales, says that cycles of hardship emerge when there are a lot of people with disadvantages in a small area.

“The majority of public housing tenants are elderly, or they’re people with disabilities, or can’t work, or they’re carers,” he says. “They’re disconnected from the mainstream society and then they get preyed upon by the drug dealer who thinks he can set up shop in these sorts of areas.”

Minister Wynne is most concerned about high unemployment rates on the old estates. “When public housing was constructed in the 60s, it was worker housing. That is no longer the case,” he says. “So in any of the large public housing high-rises, due to the very tight targeting of public housing, the vast majority of people there do not work anymore. And we think that’s unhealthy.”

The overwhelming benefit of mixed residential estates is that they polish the tainted image of public housing. Professor Randolph says that AHURI research on the ground supports this theory. “There’s no doubt that renewing the estates by putting in new homes and a range of people reduces the stigma.”

But the policy may also have some drawbacks. Professor Randolph notes that governments are “chasing the holy grail of renewing these areas without significant amounts of public subsidy”. That means that public land, often in high-value inner-city areas, must be sold to fund the projects. It’s a one-off policy option. Next time the estates need refitting, the government won’t have the land to leverage with the developers. “I think it would be better if we recognised that there is a real genuine need for affordable housing that should be subsidised from the public purse to some extent.”

Another risk is that the private sector is wary of buying in, still put off by their perceptions of public housing. While the Kensington project has attracted many investors and renters, it has a low rate of owner-occupation.

The same goes for the Inkerman Oasis, a mixed-tenure development in St Kilda. The Port Phillip Council has transformed its old depot site into an award-winning 245-unit estate comprising both private and community housing.

Although the final stage of construction has yet to begin, the Port Phillip Housing Association’s 28 community units, as well as most of the private apartments, are already complete. The association favours applications from long-term locals. Its tenants, like Sue Nikora and her son, pay low rental rates (set at about 25 to 30 percent of the tenant’s income).

Ms Nikora left her last community townhouse because she had “neighbours from hell”. Here, in St Kilda, despite having some concerns about vandalism in the block, the 52-year-old says arriving home from work is a joy.

“When you are living in a mixed place like this, I think the ones that do tend to play up behave themselves a bit more.” Ms Nikora supports the tenancy blend. “We’re all people. You can’t just keep them apart. People have to learn to live together. It’s as simple as that.”

But some of her neighbours aren’t so happy. Robert Blair is a private owner and also the building manager of the complex. He says that while most of the housing association tenants are good neighbours, the younger ones cause trouble. “They put graffiti on the walls. They cause havoc,” he says. “We don’t want them here. Why they would put kids in a place like this is a bit of a mystery to me.”

Another resident, who asked not to be named, shares his concerns. She is disappointed by the lack of connection among neighbours. “There isn’t a real sense of community with the Port Phillip tenants. In theory, I love the idea of the mix. I’m a bit embarrassed to say, a couple of years in, I’m not a fan of it in my backyard.”

But both the council and the housing association say they haven’t received any complaints from private residents. “The mix works well because people are people,” says City of Port Phillip Mayor, Janet Cribbes. “How much money you have to allocate to housing doesn’t affect who you are as a person or what you are like as a neighbour.”

St Kilda real estate agent Simon Saint-John says the perception that private buyers are nervous is way off the mark. He says property values and rents are consistent with the local average. “From our perspective, it’s made no difference at all. There’s huge demand to get into that complex.”

Across town, Mr Housakos makes a cup of tea and readies himself for another busy day. He believes that a vibrant neighbourhood is a must if the Kensington redevelopment to succeed. “The bit that we think is critical is… the whole series of ways that we get the community to engage, from local jobs through to activities that improve health and wellbeing.”

The estate has a community development action plan and committee made up of a mix of residents that meet every month. There are also regular newsletters, a new common veggie patch and training sessions on nutrition. “We get both private and public tenants turning up,” says Mr Housakos.

Last year he undertook a brief study tour of England, Scotland and the Netherlands to learn from similar projects. “You can’t just build a new set of buildings. You’ve actually got to think about what happens to the people inside.”

Melbourne’s combo-constructions

Kensington

A joint partnership between the state government and Becton Property Group, the redevelopment of almost 900 units is two-thirds complete. Half will be private and half public, including the refurbishment of two existing towers. Construction will finish by 2013.

Carlton

Thirteen blocks of walk-up flats have been demolished across Carlton sites to make way for a new mixed estate. About 550 private, and 250 public apartments are on the drawing board. The state government will announce the developer later this year.

Westmeadows

This July, Premier John Brumby announced a redevelopment plan for The Mews public housing estate in the city’s north-west. The project aims to add over 400 new public and private homes by 2014.

Inkerman Oasis

On the site of the old council depot on Inkerman Street, the Oasis eco-friendly development comprises 217 private, and 28 community apartments. The final two blocks of private units are yet to be built. 

Beyond the stars: the rise and rise of domestic power use

In Architecture and building, Environment, The Age on

Power prices are to rocket and new houses are breaking barriers in a quest for efficiency.

Last month, the federal government predicted an energy price hike. The Minister for Climate Change and Water, Penny Wong, forecast that electricity prices could rise by 16% and gas prices by 9% when the government’s carbon trading scheme comes into force.

Surging power bills will have a big impact where the heart is: one third of the state’s energy is used in the home. With so much at stake, how will our new houses trim their expanding wastes?

In 2004, Victoria led the other states by phasing in 5 Star efficiency regulations for new homes. In May this year, the 5 Star rules were extended to cover renovations and alterations.

Yet even with the 5 Star regulations, residential power use is growing. Last year, consultants George Wilkenfeld and Associates concluded that the energy-related emissions from new Victorian houses were about 6% higher than in existing ones.

The Wilkenfeld Report blamed the extra emissions on our appetite for super-sized abodes. It estimated that 5 Star dwellings were almost one third larger than homes built before the regulations came into effect. A bigger house needs more lighting, heating and cooling, no matter how well insulated it is.

State building commissioner Tony Arnel agrees that hulking houses are still a major problem. “You have to insulate more and do things to deliver better thermal efficiency… but house sizes have actually grown substantially and household occupancy has fallen. It’s rather ironical,” he says.

Although McMansions normally take the blame, architect-designed houses are also at fault. Architect and sustainability consultant Chris Barnett, from Third Skin, says that they are often the biggest and most power-hungry of all. “As an individual design, they will only be better if you put it in your brief and you pay for it.”

Mr Arnel, who also chairs the Green Building Council, thinks that change is on the way. “Electricity prices have increased over the last couple of years and that is driving demand for energy efficiency in housing.” He predicts that further rates rises will fuel a downsizing trend. “I would expect a market correction as developers start to offer more energy-efficient and appropriately designed houses,” he says.

VicUrban, the state sustainable urban development agency, is heading the market correction. The agency is a commercial operation, albeit one that aims to be an eco-leader in residential construction. David Young, general manager of project planning and design at VicUrban, thinks that sustainability will soon be front-of-mind, via the hip pocket, as energy bills absorb more of people’s disposable income.

That’s where low-energy housing comes in. Aurora, VicUrban’s eco-development in Epping North, boasts only six-star homes. “At the moment, we estimate that six star can save residents up to $1700 a year compared to the standard 5 Star on the market,” Mr Young says.

As well as better insulation and passive solar design [see box], houses at Aurora are fitted with only high-efficiency appliances and lighting. According to Mr Young, they are also slightly smaller than average developments.

VicUrban is not the only developer building houses greener than the government demands. Every design in Henley Homes’ new range meets the six-star level. Managing Director Peter Hayes says Henley, Melbourne’s biggest builder, is working on making all its designs more efficient than 5 Star. “We expect the energy rate to keep on ratcheting up. We think that it’s quite reasonable for six stars to become standard.”

Mr Hayes says that the efficiency extras add about 1% to building costs for their smallest designs and up to 2.5% for double-storey homes. But he expects the benefits will extend to resale value. “A house that costs less to run is going to be worth more.”

Burbank also has a range of six star homes. Associate Director Paul Puhar estimates that about one in every three clients now chooses the more efficient design. “It’s an emerging sector for us and it’s a fast growing one.” He believes that while environmental awareness is improving, many people still don’t consider sustainability when they buy their house.

Mr Puhar supports education more than regulation to cut household resource use. “We build five-star homes, but the one-star family can annihilate that if their attitude and behaviour is not right. Culture-shifting is absolutely imperative.”

Internationally, governments are opting for more stringent regulations. In Britain, Prime Minister Gordon Brown has committed all new homes to be carbon neutral by 2016. Many other European countries also impose standards beyond ours, as do some US states, including California.

Victoria’s 5 Star regulations relate only to the building materials. They don’t demand low-energy lighting, heating, cooling or appliances. According to eco-consultant Mr Barnett, that’s like asking ‘how good is the eski?’

“Energy ratings only consider the thickness of the foam in your eski walls and the size of the glass holes punched through them. We need to look at the whole issue. What’s the overall resource use and environmental impact of the home? What services are going into it?” he asks.

Mr Barnett believes the state government should introduce a more comprehensive building sustainability index like BASIX, used in NSW, or STEPS, used by some Victorian councils. Both tools assess the eco-impact of dwellings based on information like site location and fittings, as well as building materials.

A spokesperson for the Victorian Government says it is “committed to improving the environmental efficiency of new homes”, but would not comment on the prospect of stricter regulations. Mr Arnel, the state building commissioner, believes tighter rules are inevitable. The timing is uncertain, he says, “but the high jump bar will rise, there’s no doubt about that.”

How to manage the meter

From next year, electricity companies will begin to install smart meters in Victorian homes and businesses. The meters, which will be fully rolled out within five years, allow energy retail suppliers to read your meter remotely and vary prices during the day. But that’s not all.

According to Peter Clements, from the state Department of Primary Industries, smart meters will tell us a lot more about our power consumption. If you choose, an in-home screen will show your real-time electricity costs. Knowing your budget bottom-line is a big incentive to switch off the air conditioning – energy use has fallen by up to 4% in other places with similar technology.

“It turns the world of energy usage on its head,” Mr Clements says. “It’s a tool that helps you better manage the inevitable energy cost increases due to climate change.”

Powering down: golden rules

The smaller the better

Big houses use more of everything, including electricity.

Face north

Plan living areas for the north side of the house, to make the most of winter sun.

Reflect on your windows

Go for double-glazing to cut down heat loss. North-facing windows are best, but you should shade them in summer with wide eaves and deciduous trees. Keep east- and west-facing windows small—the lower sun is tricky to shade. Minimise windows on the sunless south.

Insulate

Good insulation can cut heat loss by up to 70%. Put it in ceilings, walls and floors. Internal and external blinds act as extra insulation for your windows.

Ventilate

Cross-ventilation is power-free cooling for summer nights. Open windows and let fresh breeze blow in from the south and out from the north. Fans are also a cheap way to chill.

Thermal mass

Heavy building materials like concrete, brick and stone absorb and store heat, curbing the extremes of winter and summer. A concrete slab floor is a good way to go.

Close the gaps

Be sure to seal all external doors, windows and exhausts.

Use efficient appliances and lights

Choosing one extra star rating on appliances and fittings can mean savings of 10–30% on running costs. Buy low-energy globes and avoid power-hungry halogens.