What Do I Mean by the Echo Chamber?

I didn’t coin the phrase echo chamber — but the moment I heard it, something clicked. It put words to something I’ve been feeling for years in the housing sector. It’s not just that residents are being ignored; it’s that a closed loop of professionals are talking to each other, validating each other, and shaping public narratives without ever meaningfully engaging with the people actually living through the housing crisis.

That’s what I mean by the echo chamber. And it’s a serious imbalance.

The Experts Without Evidence

Take a recent example. A lawyer appears on BBC Radio London to give his take on shared ownership. He’s billed as an expert. He’s articulate, confident, and statistical. But when he celebrated the appearance on LinkedIn, comments from residents actually living through shared ownership — including myself — pushed back, urging him to centre lived experience.

He admitted he doesn’t really hear from residents. He’s on a board. His interactions are strategic.

And that’s exactly the problem.

We have people with influence and platforms speaking on behalf of residents without actually listening to them. Their expertise is rarely questioned. They can publicly claim that complaints are low — without acknowledging the structural and psychological barriers that prevent residents from complaining in the first place. They point to high satisfaction, because those who aren’t satisfied are disengaged, dismissed, or deliberately excluded from the conversation.

And now, we’re up against another layer — content generated by AI, dressed up as fact, but with no clear source. I saw one of these shared on LinkedIn today. When pushed for the evidence, the author fell back on a vague reference to an old report they’d apparently read “years ago.”

It’s not good enough. It’s not acceptable. We already have to contend with self-appointed experts and their selective opinions — now we’re facing AI content being shared as gospel truth.

From Damp and Mould to Media Silence

This is the imbalance that defines so much of housing. While board members and consultants discuss satisfaction rates and policy tools, people are living in homes filled with damp, mould, cold, and fear. People are silenced by Contact Management Plans. People are dismissed as troublemakers — just like the residents of Grenfell were before the fire.

But have the professionals really learned anything?

If they had, they’d understand that real engagement means discomfort. It means listening to dissenting voices. It means working with people who won’t play along for a seat at the table.

The Rise of Tokenism

Instead, what we get is tokenism. The tokenistic tenant.

Another phrase I’ve come to use — because I’ve seen it time and again.

Tokenistic engagement is about finding the “safe” resident. The one who smiles for the photo, attends the panel, and tells a story that fits the narrative. Someone flattered by the attention — and afraid to lose it.

But that’s not representation. That’s performance.

Meanwhile, those of us who speak out — loudly, critically, and consistently — are ignored, blacklisted, or treated as threats.

And maybe we are threats.

Not to housing itself, but to the systems that have protected mediocrity, obfuscation, and denial for far too long.

Building Our Own Platforms

That’s why people like me, Suz Muna, Dan Bruce, Matt Lismore, Stephen Day, Lucie Gutfreund, Sue Phillips, Giles Grover, Lisa Malyon and many others have had to build our own platforms. We’ve been forced to create spaces for our voices — because no one gave us the mic.

And now, it’s becoming harder to ignore us.

The mainstream media is catching on. Shared ownership. Damp and mould. Harassment. Legal intimidation.

These stories are getting harder to suppress.

And while some still try to paint us as troublemakers, we know the truth: We’re the people telling the stories they want to keep quiet.

We’re not anti-sector. We’re anti-spin.

The Echo Chamber Is Breaking

So when I talk about the echo chamber, I’m not just talking about tone-deaf experts or inflated LinkedIn posts. I’m talking about a structural failure to listen — and a growing movement of people who refuse to be silenced.

If you work in housing and you’re still only hearing from the “right” kind of residents, maybe it’s time to ask yourself why.

Because the voices are out here. We’re getting louder. And we’re not going anywhere. Let’s face it — many of us can’t. We’re stuck in this toxic relationship. Silenced. Unheard. Victim-blamed. We can’t sell our homes, so we remain trapped — in what is, for want of a better word, an abusive relationship.

Breaking the Bubble Starts with Dialogue

Today, I found myself in three LinkedIn exchanges where I called out the echo chamber. What followed genuinely surprised me — not one, but three people reached out privately. I won’t name names, because this isn’t about individuals. It’s about what happens when we step outside our own bubbles.

One of them had commented publicly, and we moved the conversation into direct messages. Through that dialogue, we began exploring a possible middle ground — a way to better understand each other’s perspectives. It didn’t end in full agreement, but it started with mutual respect. And that’s a good beginning.

The second person contacted me to discuss a previous post I’d made — one where I criticised a project that, in my view, was (and still is) a waste of time, money, and resources that should have been better spent on repairs. They wanted to understand where I was coming from. We exchanged thoughts, challenged each other, and eventually found common ground. We didn’t need to agree on everything. What mattered was that we listened. We learned.

Then there was a third message — from someone who works in the sector but felt unable to speak out. They grew up in social housing and agreed with my comments, but told me they feared repercussions if they said so publicly.

That’s not just a shame. That’s a warning sign.

No one should feel that speaking the truth about housing risks their livelihood. But sadly, it’s something I hear far too often.

As many of you know, my own landlord has been named in the House of Commons for using strategic lawsuits to silence me and my platform — going as far as to have me arrested on a false charge of harassment. So I understand how real that fear is. I know what it’s like to speak out against a corporate giant holding the purse strings.

I thanked him for his honesty and invited him to write an anonymous blog for the Housing Sector platform. He’s thinking about it. And I hope he does — because this is exactly the kind of openness and engagement we need.

This is how we start breaking the echo chamber.

Not with more silence. Not by only engaging with the people who already agree with us. But by reaching across, leaning in, and being willing to hear what’s uncomfortable.

If we want to build a housing sector we can be proud of — one rooted in truth, accountability, and real dialogue — then we have to stop fearing disagreement.

We have to listen to the stories that challenge us, not just the ones that flatter us.

Otherwise, the idea of a fair and functional housing sector will remain just that — an idea. A myth. A glossy brochure that hides the rot underneath.

Let’s keep pushing. Let’s keep talking. Let’s keep listening. Because if we don’t break the echo chamber — the echo chamber will break us.

Failing that, we’ll keep getting the same outcomes: landlords like mine releasing yet another “strategy” promising to listen to customers and communicate better — the same tired rhetoric, with no results.