Middle Ground: A Frontline Journey in Social Housing is the recent book by Joe Carpenter (a pseudonym) that outlines the author’s 13 years working as a repairs operative in the social housing sector.

The book has made quite an impression, especially with HQN CEO Alistair McIntosh (read his review here).

HQN caught up with Joe for this interview:

What motivated you to write the book?

The motivation stemmed from years of working in social housing, where I saw a side of it that rarely gets discussed: the people on the ground trying to hold everything together. There’s a lot said about tenants and a lot said about policy, but very little that truly listens to either side. The voices of both tenants and frontline staff often get lost somewhere in the middle, and that’s exactly where the real story happens. I wanted to capture that world honestly and to show the human side: the frustration, pride, and resilience that keep the system going despite all the pressures. Middle Ground is about those moments – the small, everyday battles and connections that reveal the real heart of social housing. In short, I wrote Middle Ground to give a voice to the people who don’t usually get one.

Do you see policies such as Awaab’s Law and the Competence and Conduct Standard making a difference to the quality of service offered by social housing organisations?

In theory, policies like Awaab’s Law and the new Competence and Conduct Standard could help drive real improvement. But in practice, it all depends on the strength of the systems, culture, and people within each housing provider.

Awaab’s Law sets clear expectations around tackling damp and mould, while the Competence and Conduct Standard raises the bar for professionalism and accountability. On paper, both are steps in the right direction. They send the message that the quality of homes and the competence of those running them are matters of public trust, not just internal targets.

The problem is, laws and standards only work if the organisations behind them are willing and able to change. Too many housing providers are still weighed down by poor systems, weak communication, and overstretched teams. If those foundations stay the same, new rules just become another box to tick.

Real progress comes from culture, from leadership that values people over numbers, invests in staff, and actually listens to tenants. If these policies help spark that kind of change, they’ll make a difference. But if providers carry on as before, we’ll see the same problems dressed up as compliance.

In the end, both Awaab’s Law and the Competence and Conduct Standard are tools, not solutions. They can point the way, but they can’t do the work. The real test will be whether housing providers use them as a wake-up call to rebuild trust and deliver the service tenants deserve.

Your career in housing covered the period before and after the Grenfell tower disaster. Do you see any signs in improvement in terms of organisational culture, attitudes towards tenants and the way the sector is regulated?

From my point of view, the most notable change since Grenfell has been the creation of specialist fire teams within maintenance departments. High-risk jobs, like fire doors and other critical safety work, are now handled by people trained and qualified in that field. Before Grenfell, these jobs were often raised through general maintenance, meaning staff without specialist expertise managed them, which created risks and delays.

That said, much of this work is still subcontracted, which brings the usual issues around accountability, communication, and costs. Subcontracting can create distance between the provider, staff, and tenants, sometimes causing delays or confusion over responsibility.

Grenfell also highlighted how tenant voices had been ignored for years. Residents repeatedly raised fire safety concerns, but warnings were dismissed. On the frontline, it was clear this wasn’t just a systems failure; it was a failure in how tenants were perceived. Too often, residents are stigmatised, treated as problems to manage rather than people to listen to. Policies like Awaab’s Law, stronger resident engagement frameworks, and the Competence and Conduct Standard aim to shift this, but changing attitudes takes time, and stigma remains deeply rooted in some organisations.

Regulation in the sector has tightened significantly, and rules can influence how organisations operate. But on their own, they aren’t enough. Many providers still struggle with broken systems, siloed departments, and overstretched teams. Rules can set expectations and drive compliance, but they can’t automatically change culture, improve poor processes, or replace leadership that genuinely prioritises tenants’ safety and wellbeing.

Are you happy to outline your own blueprint for change as set out in your book?

Yes, absolutely. Middle Ground isn’t just about highlighting what’s gone wrong, it’s about offering a practical blueprint for change based on frontline experience. At the heart of it is rebuilding proximity and accountability: smaller, localised “patch” teams where staff really know their tenants and properties, supported by patch offices on estates so residents can speak to someone face-to-face.

A key part of the blueprint is bringing as much work in-house as possible. That means reducing reliance on subcontractors, establishing internal stores for materials, and creating a proper in-house training centre where staff can be upskilled. This ensures work is done consistently, safely, and efficiently, while also giving staff a career path and the organisation more control over quality and accountability.

Digital platforms would link staff, tenants, and managers in real time, improving communication and reducing delays. And co-production with tenants is vital; involving residents in designing services ensures that solutions actually meet their needs and builds trust in the process.

Finally, it all comes down to culture. Leadership must prioritise safety, well-being, and dignity over bureaucracy or cost-cutting. Social housing should be a foundation for stability and opportunity, not a source of stress or stigma. That’s the vision Middle Ground sets out, practical, people-focused, and achievable if organisations commit to it.

Tell us about your experience of business transformation programmes

In my experience, working in a DLO, business transformation programmes often promised big improvements, but in practice, they frequently failed because the frontline teams, the people actually doing the work, weren’t consulted. A few examples stand out.

The field service management system, for instance, was meant to streamline repairs, track jobs, and improve communication. Over the years, the DLO tried to make improvements, but each change was a failure because they never asked the main users, the tradespeople, what was needed and what was actually going wrong.

Stock control suffered a similar issue. Materials were mismanaged, frequently ran out, or went to waste, and it wasn’t until a business analyst came out and asked the team directly about the problems that meaningful change did eventually occur.

The repairs booklet detailing tenants and the provider’s responsibilities was another example. Because frontline teams weren’t consulted, it led to increased complaints from tenants and, in many cases, caused long-term disrepair that went unresolved.

Taken together, these examples show that transformation programmes only succeed when the people doing the work are included in shaping the changes. Without that consultation, even well-intentioned programmes risk creating frustration and inefficiency.

Did you go through a merger? If so, tell us your thoughts. If not, what are your thoughts about mergers more generally?

I’ve worked in at least four housing associations that have gone through mergers, and one of my family members lives in a property that’s seen three mergers since the stock transfer from the local council. Over the years, working across hundreds of estates, I often notice old placards from previous providers still hanging in communal areas, a visible reminder that, for organisations, mergers are often reduced to numbers on a spreadsheet, rather than the people and communities they serve.

From my perspective, and I’d say from many tenants’ too, mergers rarely bring tangible benefits. Local knowledge, personal connections, and a sense of community are all lost in the shuffle. The biggest test of any merger is how tenants experience it over time, and the one thing I constantly hear when speaking to people across estates is: “It was better before.” That recurring sentiment speaks volumes.

If the current trend continues, I fear we will eventually end up with just a handful of large housing associations controlling vast swathes of stock. While consolidation may make sense on paper, the human, local side of social housing risks being diminished even further. Communities lose the personal touch, the responsiveness, and the familiarity that make housing feel safe and supportive. Without deliberate effort to preserve local knowledge and engagement, the numbers-focused approach of mergers continues to risk turning social housing into a distant, impersonal service, leaving both tenants and frontline staff frustrated and disconnected.

There is lots of talk about CEO pay currently. Did you ever see the top people where you worked (apart from the one meeting you write about in the book)?

I have seen very few of the top people in the organisations I have worked for. Most are tucked away in luxurious offices that, to be honest, are more like high-end car showrooms. They are far removed from the often squalid conditions that tenants are living in, and as a result, they are rarely visible on the ground.

There were a few exceptions, which I write about in my book, such as when I worked in a DLO and had the CEO and other directors and managers out with me on visits. Even then, what struck me most was their lack of empathy. They genuinely couldn’t relate to the tenants or the frontline staff they were meeting. They couldn’t understand the people, the conditions, or the struggles; it was completely alien to them.