David Orr: the end of an era

We meet at The Mother’s Square in Hackney. This is a gated, traditional looking London town square – neat Georgian-style three-storey houses with a peaceful courtyard, faux columns and balconies. It looks expensive and exclusive. It is in fact an estate of social rented, supported
living and shared ownership homes.

The development, on the site of a former hospital, was completed by Newlon Housing Trust in 1990 – under the stewardship of their young chief executive, a rising star in the sector by the name of David Orr.

“Thirty years on it still looks great,” says Mr Orr. “I think that’s what good mixed tenure should be – there’s no way of knowing from the outside whether it’s rented or for sale.”

This is one of his go-to phrases to describe the benefits of what housing associations do, and a key part of the philosophy he has spent 13 years trying to explain to the highest levels of government.

“I think that’s what good mixed tenure should be – there’s no way of knowing from the outside whether it’s rented or for sale.”

Perhaps the ultimate compliment Ms May paid to him in her speech was to repeat it back to him from the podium, almost word for word.

Long before he was being namechecked by prime ministers, Mr Orr was growing up in Oxgangs, then a relatively new urban extension to the south-west of Edinburgh.

The area was mostly council housing, but Mr Orr lived in tied rented accommodation, a consequence of his father’s job as the local church minister. It is his parents – his mother was a primary school teacher – who Mr Orr cites when asked who have been the key inspirations in his life.

“I’ve said on a number of occasions that I see my dad as the best community worker I’ve ever met,” he says. “He very much saw his job as not just about the congregation who came to the church, but the whole community of Oxgangs.

“Oxgangs had drug problems, it had a gang. Certainly in my childhood, in my early teenage years, they were quite scary,” he says. “My parents did so much in that community that I think helped create a sense of cohesion.”

This early upbringing has stayed with him.

“The values that I have stem from that family upbringing and what my parents taught me,” he says. “I don’t have a Christian faith any longer but I absolutely believe that many of those values underpin my approach.”

Learning to care about social and community issues as a child led Mr Orr to a degree in social administration, a homelessness charity in Glasgow, and then the Centrepoint homelessness charity in London where he worked for the early years of his career.

"Asked what kind of housing association chief executive he was he answers, in a heartbeat, “brilliant”."

Mr Orr recalls this period in his career fondly. He recollects with laughter the story of a homeless man who reacted to seeing the Prince of Wales by shouting “fuck me, it’s a fucking Prince”; he remembers the stories of “unbelievably difficult” childhoods of some of the people he worked with and recalls wrestling with the debate about turning people away (Centrepoint operated a strict policy of a maximum of three nights’ stay).

After nine years working as a project manager for Centrepoint, he wanted to “do something more strategic” rather than deal with the “immediate problem” of homelessness. He had worked with housing associations for the charity, chaired the board of a London-based provider and believed a housing association was a place he could make an impact. So aged 31, having never held a job in the sector before, he applied to be chief executive of Newlon.

“I thought I could be a chief executive,” he says. “Somewhat to my astonishment, and somewhat to their astonishment, the board of Newlon agreed.”

This is a trait which runs through David Orr’s career – a fairly extraordinary and apparently innate sense of self-belief. Asked what kind of housing association chief executive he was he answers, in a heartbeat, “brilliant”. Is he unusually self-confident?

“Yeah I think that’s probably true,” he says. “I think throughout my career one of the things I’ve talked about a lot is confidence, self-confidence.

“When I was asked to chair the board I remember looking round and thinking ‘who round this table do I think could do this job better than me’, and truthfully the answer was no one.”

After a four-year stint running Newlon, Mr Orr set his sights on something bigger. He said he had learned he was a “pretty good public communicator” and wanted to put the talent to good use.

“I’ve always been interested in the politics of all of this,” he says. “I discovered that I’m a strategic rather than an operational thinker.”

"I’ve always believed in talking to people honestly. I think politicians have respected me for that."

This stage of his career began at the Scottish Federation of Housing Associations, before moving to the NHF in 2005. As well as public speaking, this introduced lobbying into his role.

How did he feel the first time he sat across the table from a powerful politician?

“Maybe it’s something to do with my upbringing, I’ve always believed in talking to people honestly. I think they [politicians] have generally respected me for that,” he says. “So many people in these environments are Home Counties-educated and don’t ever want to say anything people disagree with, so you leave a meeting not knowing what was even discussed.”

He has always been a performer; he recalls a vivid memory, aged four, of belting out There’s a Hole in the Bucket at a Sunday School performance. “I remember everyone laughing and I really enjoyed that,” he says.