He says housing professionals are often too scared to speak their minds - but being outspoken is not a problem for him. On the eve of his retirement, Barry Simons talks to Housing Today about rents, race and why a stock transfer was the one of the most painful moves of his career
Retirement at 53 is an enticing prospect for Barry Simons, as it would be for many people.

As outspokenly enthusiastic about housing as ever, Hammersmith and Fulham's departing housing director nonetheless admits that weariness has crept in to his working life - and that his decision to insert an option of early retirement into his contract eight years ago now seems an especially astute one.

When he leaves on 31 March, Simons has carefully-nurtured plans to do "very little", but he will not cut the cord completely. Although he claims not to have anything specific lined up, he plans to offer his services to the housing world in a part-time capacity "where I can still contribute to London's housing, particularly on issues like regeneration".

"I enjoy work, but it will be a relief to stop," he says. "As you get older you don't really want the grinding pressure that people in their thirties and forties can cope with."

Though still upbeat, Simons believes jobs such as his have become significantly tougher during the last 15 years as local authorities have been asked to deal with constant change against a background of reduced resources. "Over time that takes its toll and you get to the point where you feel that for the sake of the council it's time for someone else to take that pressure and give it a fresh look."

Simons believes he is leaving the housing world in a generally worse state than when he first moved into the field as deputy borough housing officer at Haringey in 1975. He particularly regrets that "ordinary working people no longer aspire to live in council housing", which is "now just seen as only for poor people" and is upset that there has been no real progress in tackling homelessness or the condition of the local authority housing stock

"I seem to be going out with London in the same position as when I came in - with rising homelessness and appalling conditions for lots of families in temporary accommodation," he says. "And although this government is beginning to address the state of council stock, it is picking up a huge backlog of disrepair."

He is angry, too, at the now-prevailing attitude that council housing can only be rescued by transfers to RSLs. "I think that's tragic, because housing management in a lot of councils is far in advance of RSLs in terms of technology, consultation, culture and many other things. That doesn't mean there aren't good RSLs out there. I'm just saying that overall the performance of councils outstrips RSLs very significantly, and it's a shame that's not recognised by the government."

Simons has been particularly outspoken over the past few years about the shift in resources to RSLs. "My concern is that it's just not justified," he says. "If it's necessary to transfer stock because that's the only way to get investment, then so be it. I am not ideologically opposed to RSLs. But the majority of RSLs have real governance problems, the committees are largely self-appointed and the people who run them often have no real understanding or personal experience of what it's like to be an RSL tenant or to be poor."

"I'm not saying you have to be poor to do a good job of running an RSL, but there needs to be real understanding and there often isn't. Some RSLs are incredibly patronising bodies who ... see their role basically as being lady bountifuls. And then you get the new modernising RSLs whose rents have become so high they trap people in poverty."

"So you have old-style RSLs that are patronising and pathetic in many ways and the new ones that have lost their way. That's a very harsh judgement, because they've also done hugely beneficial things and they have filled gaps that councils have never filled. But their culture and values are often contrary to my values."

Although Simons has been involved in a successful small-scale transfer of 700 homes to Old Oak housing association in his borough, he says the experience was one of the most painful of his career. "The sense of betrayal to the tenants was overwhelming, because they trusted me and they didn't want to transfer. I felt I was letting them down by sending them off somewhere else."

Despite such setbacks, Simons does believe there has been dramatic progress in general attitudes to housing management, across the board. "Tenants are now treated as customers rather than people to be patronised, which is far different from the 60s and 70s when it was just a few authorities that treated tenants as human beings," he says.

He also argues that attitudes on race - one of his preoccupations - have improved markedly even from the days when, as housing director at Newham in the mid-1980s, he was instrumental in the UK's first eviction of a family for racism. "Compared with some of the stuff that went on in London boroughs in the past, those racist attitudes have effectively disappeared," he claims.

But smiling faces and all-round empathy are not much use if there is no money to back them up. "You can't produce houses with attitude," he adds.

As a man known for his often fearless denunciation of emerging orthodoxies, Simons blames the current poor state of local authority housing affairs at least partly on the housing profession itself, which he believes has meekly accepted the radical changes of the 1980s and 1990s.

"There were very few people who were ever prepared to put their head above the parapet," he says. "Local government officers or chief executives of RSLs have rarely had the commitment or passion to speak their own mind and say that things are wrong. I think they should have done a lot more, but basically they were scared."

Simons is quick to point out that he makes no special claims for himself in this area ("that's for other people to judge"), and he concedes that he has always worked in authorities that have allowed him leeway to express his personal views.

But he admits that "I can't keep my mouth shut and I have a shorter fuse than some other people" - and is disappointed that others like him have opted for self-censorship. "What I would say to a lot of my colleagues is that saying things you really think rarely has the consequences that you expect. I've never found that people do you down because of outspokenness."

As an example he cites his controversial stand on RSL rent levels, which, in 1997, led him to suspend Hammersmith & Fulham's relationship with eight housing associations until they brought their affordability into line with the council's expectations.

Far from regretting the friction this caused, he maintains the move was probably the best thing he has ever done in housing.

"That stand on rents became a national issue and actually led to a change in policy. Saying "enough is enough" - and then speaking out time and time again against high rent levels - was probably the most influential thing I've done in housing, and I feel proud of that. It brought it onto the agendas of the government and the Housing Corporation and we now have a policy in the borough where RSLs won't increase rents above RPI." Long-term relationships with local RSLs have not suffered in any way, he claims, and Hammersmith & Fulham has a reputation as one of the best enabling boroughs in the capital.

But once again he is critical of those within the housing movement who were afraid to broach the issue of affordability. "If RSLs had the guts they would have stopped developing when rents got too high - but they were gutless, and the National Housing Federation was just as gutless as they were."

As a parting shot it is hardly a conciliatory sentiment, but then Simons has never been known for his conciliatory nature. Even in retirement, one suspects, he is likely to be back with a few choice words.