The Stigma with Stop Social Housing Stigma

There’s been a wave of publicity recently around the Stop Social Housing Stigma campaign — a movement said to have been born in the aftermath of Grenfell. And yes, it’s on record: residents were dismissed, labelled as troublemakers, and ignored when they raised concerns that, in hindsight, were deadly serious.

There absolutely is a stigma attached to social housing, and it does need tackling. But if we’re going to address it, we need to do it properly — not through feel-good optics.

My main worry with this campaign is that it’s starting to feel more like a badge of honour. Stick a logo on your website, drop it into your email footer, and job done — you are a provider who does not stigmatise your tenants! But that’s not how change works. Change takes confrontation. Accountability. Structural reform.

I reached out to Nic Bliss several times as this campaign gained traction. I wanted transparency. Clarity. Answers. Most of those messages were ignored. It was only when I mentioned I was writing this blog that I got a reply. To his credit, we did speak — and it was a decent conversation. But it was the kind of exchange that should be happening in public: open, honest, accountable. So, I invited him onto the podcast. The response? Lukewarm at best.

Since then, as part of a wider research project, I’ve been looking into the funding behind some of these sector-led campaigns. I sent a follow-up to Nic, asking about financial ties and organisational backing. The replies — which I’ll include below — didn’t offer the clarity I’d hoped for. If anything, they raised more questions than they answered.

Now let’s be fair — Nic doesn’t owe me anything. He’s under no legal obligation to respond to emails or disclose funding sources. I’m not throwing a tantrum about that. People are free to engage with whoever they want.

But when you’re fronting a campaign that claims moral authority and sector-wide credibility, transparency shouldn’t be optional. It should be a given. And right now? I’m not convinced it is.

I’ve also got a problem with the term “tenant-led.” Because if you look at who’s actually steering the ship, all roads lead back to Nic. That’s not a personal dig — it’s a legitimate observation. If we’re going to call something tenant-led, we should be clear about who’s making the decisions.

And it’s worth looking at Nic’s background. He’s got decades of experience in UK social housing — that’s not in question. He is, or at least was, a long-term social housing resident. But he’s also held prominent roles with the Chartered Institute of Housing, the National Housing Federation, and other influential sector bodies. He’s deeply embedded in the establishment.

And I’ve made my views on those organisations clear. The CIH should be focusing on training — not event management and PR. It’s become a commercial outfit. So has the NHF. Both are profit-driven machines dressed up as champions of social housing — all while taking indirect funding from residents via rents and service charges that keep going up as standards go down.

That’s why I take issue with this campaign — and Nic’s central role in it. To me, Stop Social Housing Stigma feels like another layer of spin. Another platform soaking up funding and attention while the real issues — unsafe homes, repair delays, resident silencing — get side-lined. It’s another echo chamber. A place where sector leaders can pat themselves on the back for caring, while carrying on as usual.

And that raises a bigger question: is this campaign about dismantling stigma — or about letting the same old institutions rebrand without changing?

Alongside Nic, the campaign is run by a national committee of social housing residents. On paper, it’s tenant-led — committed to challenging negative stereotypes and promoting a more positive image of social housing.

That all sounds great. It fits the moment: housing associations are under fire, public scrutiny is growing, and now you’ve got players like Nic — and those circling the sector’s fringe — the same old faces hungry and eager to profit from a sector they know to be failing, whilst themselves failing to call it out, instead all trying to shift the narrative from one of failure to one of feel-good and success! 

And let’s be clear: there are positives in social housing. I’ll say that again — there are positives. But we won’t PR our way out of crisis. The only way to fix what’s broken is to face it head-on.

And that’s my worry. Once again, this is starting to feel like another echo chamber. While some are dealing with rent hikes, leaking ceilings and black mould, others — let’s be honest — are doing quite nicely from the campaign circuit. I don’t know what Nic earns for running this initiative, but I’d wager it’s not minimum wage. Especially when paired with his other sector-linked roles.

And that brings us to the heart of the issue: can we really call this campaign independent?

If you’re funded — or hoping to be funded — by CIH, NHF, housing associations or affiliated consultancies, you’re naturally going to tread carefully. That’s not independence — that’s sector-speak. That’s why The Housing Sector, run by me, takes no funding. No corporate sponsorship. No institutional filter. Just lived experience, scrutiny, and truth — however uncomfortable that might be.

As campaign director, Nic is shaping the strategy and growth of SSHS. It’s supposed to be a collaborative effort — residents, landlords, contractors, all coming together to reshape perceptions.

But here’s the big question: what stigma are we actually talking about?

Because I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. And I’ve heard some of the things senior housing leaders say about the people they’re meant to serve. I can’t publish all of it — some of it’s hearsay — but this much is clear: social housing has a serious culture problem.

Take the case of MHS Homes. A staff member mocked a disabled colleague by sending her images from The Exorcist. That’s not just a one-off — that’s a failure in hiring, HR, and leadership. The fact it played out in group chats and workplace banter shows how normalised this behaviour has become.

Or take the housing awards season. Remember the awful women who sneered at protestors outside the venue? Champagne inside, mould and damp in the homes of the people outside. That’s the disconnect. And that’s where stigma festers.

As I write this on 21st May 2025, events season is in full swing. Residents are sitting in cold, damp flats while their rent pays for networking lunches and seafront hotel stays. Dressed up as “essential learning,” of course.

The message is clear 'We’re better than you’. We wear lanyards. We don’t stack shelves. We don’t clean trains. We work in housing — we don’t live in it. 

And whilst I’ll grant you that many frontline staff do live in social housing, in order to fit in and elevate the career ladder, they too must form the same alliances, often done by ensuring their attitudes align.

That attitude is where stigma survives.

If you want to tackle stigma, start with showing up. Be there when the ceiling caves in. When black mould spreads. When the boiler breaks — again. And listen. Not in a staged tenant forum. Not through a handpicked “representative” who won’t rock the boat. Listen to the people who are angry, exhausted, and too often ignored.

That’s what I fear most about this campaign — that it’s tokenism in a slicker wrapper. A curated circle of agreeable tenants who say just enough to tick the engagement box, but never enough to rattle the system.

And everything still flows through Nic — someone with close ties to the very sector players this campaign should be challenging. Reports get filtered, polished, presented. Handed back to government departments that have, since Grenfell, failed to protect people. They’ve delayed cladding removal. Downplayed investigations. Watered down pledges. And now they’re pinning their hopes on a campaign like this.  And why, because it’s an easy win! Stay the right words, whilst lacking any action or meaningful outcome. 

Yes, let’s be fair. Recognising stigma is a good first step. But awareness doesn’t equal action. It can too easily become a shield — a way to seem like you're tackling problems without ever changing behaviour.

If we’re serious, we need to root out the people in power who perpetuate stigma — consciously or otherwise — and move them on. This is a not-for-profit sector. If you hold contempt for the people you serve, you don’t belong in it. Go work somewhere else. You’re part of the rot.

This stigma isn’t surface level — it’s systemic. Deep-rooted. And I don’t see how a campaign like this can challenge it when it operates in spaces that feel too safe and too aligned with the institutions it ought to unsettle.

Let’s not forget: no one’s been prosecuted for Grenfell. Developers are still building unsafe homes. The government made big promises, then quietly walked them back. So forgive me if I don’t believe pledges and training courses will change a broken system.

What worries me is that this campaign — even with the best of intentions — keeps the conversation polite. Collaborative. Controlled. And in these echo chambers, talk replaces action.

Until tenants have real governance power — not token panels or advisory roles, but actual influence — nothing will change. We need structural reform. Voice where it matters. Not just collaboration. Accountability.

And that’s why I’m sceptical. SSHS says it’s about a journey. But journeys without consequences are just workshops. A landlord signs up, adds a logo to their website, sends staff to an anti-stigma seminar — and ticks the box.

Meanwhile, repairs are ignored. Complaints pile up. Funding goes to PR, not people.

Even Nic Bliss has said: “We don’t have the answers.” Fair. But if no one has the answers yet, why are we packaging this as the answer? Why is this being funded, promoted, and platformed as the solution?

Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like reform. It looks like branding.

To be clear, some sector bodies are making changes. CIH has its code of ethics. NHF has its “Together with Tenants” charter. Landlords are adding empathy and unconscious bias training.

But let’s ask the obvious question: shouldn’t that have always been the baseline?

Instead, we’ve created a market for external trainers — selling the need for decency as a product. Roleplaying kindness. Commercialising basic humanity.

Maybe the real answer isn’t more training. Maybe it’s better recruitment. Hire the right people. Pay them well. Respect them. Let them do their jobs. Then residents get to speak to someone who gets it — someone who doesn’t need a seminar to understand empathy.

So yes — credit where it’s due. Under Nic’s leadership, the SSHS campaign has shone a light on a long-ignored issue. That matters.

But that’s also what makes me uneasy.

This campaign, for all its good intentions, feels too safe. Too polished. Too aligned. Like so many others — NHF, CIH, Inside Housing — it risks becoming another brand trying to challenge a system while staying on its payroll.

You can’t fight stigma with the institutions that created it — especially if they’re funding your efforts.

So I ask again: are we really empowering tenants to hold landlords to account? Or are we creating a softer story that landlords can hide behind?

That’s why I’m writing this. That’s why I’m asking questions.

And that — right there — is my stigma with the Stop Social Housing Stigma campaign.

If we truly want to end the stigma in social housing, then give residents real power.

Let us vote — every year — on whether we still trust our CEO. If their job depended on resident confidence, reform would come quickly.

Let us challenge poor service in ways that matter. Let us impact the bottom line. If a landlord fails in their duty of care, residents should have a route to withhold payment — judged by an independent body.

Fund the Housing Ombudsman properly. Right now, long delays are a gift to bad landlords. Bring those wait times down. Give the Ombudsman teeth.

When special investigations reveal systemic failure — heads should roll. Boards should step in. That’s governance.

Stop pleasing the funders. Stop the platitudes. Residents are the bottom line.

Respect doesn’t come from workshops.

It comes from rights. From recourse. From fear of consequence.

You want to end stigma?

Give tenants power.