They see visibly the sense of loss that has come to their locality
Across England's struggling towns, the empty shopfront has become a kind of political mirror — reflecting back to communities a sense of abandonment that no election leaflet can easily paper over. In places like Walsall, where markets once filled the street and now vape shops and betting shops stand in their place, voters are drawing a direct line between the decay they see and the politics they distrust. As May's local elections approach, the High Street has become something more than an economic indicator: it is a test of whether democratic institutions can still be felt in the lives of ordinary people. Every major party is offering a remedy, but the illness — regional inequality, the retreat of retail, the hollowing of community — has been decades in the making.
- In deprived towns like Bradford, one in five High Street units sit empty — a vacancy rate nearly double that of prosperous cities like London and Cambridge, making inequality visible at street level.
- Shoppers and long-time residents describe a creeping sense of loss: high rents, parking charges, and the absence of jobs are quietly strangling the businesses that once gave town centres their life.
- Politicians have registered the alarm — the government has pledged £301 million for High Street revival and new council powers, while Conservatives, Liberal Democrats, Reform UK, and the Greens each offer competing prescriptions from business rate cuts to citizens' assemblies.
- Yet the forces driving decline — the shift to online retail, decades of regional underinvestment, and cash-starved councils — resist the pace of electoral cycles, leaving regeneration projects like Walsall's £1.5 billion scheme moving far slower than voter frustration.
- Polling suggests the emotional weight of High Street decline is sharpest among Reform UK supporters, raising the question of whether discontent will flow toward insurgent parties rather than the traditional ones promising repair.
Walk down Walsall's High Street on a bright weekday morning and the footfall is there — but so are the gaps. Where a market once stretched the full length of the street, there are now empty storefronts, barbers, vape shops, and betting shops. Debbie Tapper, who has spent her whole life in this West Midlands town, carries pride in where she is from — but that pride has curdled. "I'm not proud of the way the country is at the moment," she says.
Walsall is not exceptional. Across England, the same story is playing out: online shopping has hollowed out town centres, out-of-town retail parks have drawn customers away, and what was once the heart of community life has become a landscape of shuttered windows. For voters approaching May's local elections, this is not an abstraction. It is something they pass every time they leave the house.
Luke Tryl of More in Common has studied how people read their surroundings. A boarded-up shop, he explains, is not simply a business failure — it registers as neglect, as evidence that a place has been left behind. Local shoppers echo this. Carmel Yates describes Walsall as "really run down," marked by deprivation and a lack of jobs. Sharday Hodges points to high rents and parking charges as quiet obstacles that make survival harder for businesses and shoppers alike.
The geography of this decline is deeply unequal. In prosperous areas, roughly one in twelve High Street units sit empty; in places like Bradford, it is closer to one in five. The Centre for Cities has documented the pattern: where spending power is lowest, the High Street suffers most. When it fails, voters do not see a technical problem — they see proof that politics is not working for them.
Government has begun to acknowledge the stakes. Communities Secretary Steve Reed has spoken of voters encountering "a wasteland of boarded up shops, fly tipping everywhere, and metal grills covered in graffiti" — and feeling angry. The government has announced £301 million for High Street revival alongside a broader £5.8 billion "Pride in Place" scheme, with new powers for councils to limit betting shops and bring empty properties back into use.
Every major party is offering something different: the Conservatives propose scrapping business rates for smaller retailers; the Liberal Democrats want a temporary VAT cut for pubs and cafes; Reform UK would abolish business rates for pubs entirely; the Greens call for affordable leases and citizens' assemblies over empty properties. Each diagnosis implies a different cure.
The deeper difficulty is that High Street decline is entangled with forces no single policy can quickly unravel — the structural shift to online retail, regional inequality built over decades, councils stretched thin, and stalled economic growth. Some towns have found ways forward by reimagining their centres around housing, health services, and culture. Walsall itself has a £1.5 billion regeneration project in progress. But these things move slowly, and voters are watching now — wondering whether any party can actually deliver, or whether their discontent will find a different destination entirely.
Walk down the High Street in Walsall on a bright weekday morning and you'll see people moving through the town centre, but listen to what they say and a different picture emerges. Debbie Tapper, who has spent her entire life in this West Midlands town, stands where a market once stretched the full length of the street. Now there are gaps—empty storefronts, a few barbers, vape shops, betting shops. "It's not like it used to be," she says. She carries pride in being from Walsall, but that pride has curdled. "I'm not proud of the way the country is at the moment."
Walsall is not alone. Across England, High Streets are dying in the same way: online shopping has hollowed out town centres, out-of-town retail parks have siphoned away customers, and the economic ground has shifted beneath these places. What was once the heart of a community is now a landscape of shuttered windows and visible decline. For voters heading into May's local elections, this decay is not abstract. It is something they see every time they leave their house.
Luke Tryl, who directs polling for More in Common, has studied how people judge their surroundings. "The public judge their local area and community by the state of the High Street," he says. A boarded-up shop is not just a business failure. It reads as neglect. It reads as a sign that the place where you live is being left behind. This perception—that communities are forgotten—is chipping away at how people feel about politics itself. Sharday Hodges and Carmel Yates, both shoppers in Walsall, feel it acutely. They love the town but see it as desperate for help. "It's really run down," Carmel says. "There's a lot of deprivation. There's a lack of jobs about." Sharday points to high rents and parking charges as obstacles that make it harder for businesses to survive and for people to afford to shop.
The geography of decline is unequal. In prosperous areas like London and Cambridge, roughly one in twelve High Street units sit empty. In Bradford, it is closer to one in five. The Centre for Cities think tank has documented this pattern: where people have less money to spend, the High Street suffers most. Ant Breach, the think tank's director of policy and research, calls High Streets "one of the most visible barometers" of how a local economy is performing. When they fail, voters do not see a technical problem. They see proof that politics is not working for them.
Government has begun to acknowledge the stakes. Communities Secretary Steve Reed has said that fixing High Streets is essential to showing people that politics is on their side. "They go there today and they find a wasteland of boarded up shops, fly tipping everywhere, and metal grills covered in graffiti," he said. "They perceive, they see visibly the sense of loss that has come to their locality and they feel angry." The government has announced £301 million in funding to revitalise High Streets, plus a broader £5.8 billion "Pride in Place" scheme. It has given councils new powers to limit betting shops and bring empty properties back into use.
But every major party is offering different remedies, and none are simple. The Conservatives are proposing to scrap business rates for retail, hospitality and leisure businesses up to £110,000 annually, and to cut electricity bills for businesses. The Liberal Democrats want a temporary VAT cut for pubs and cafes, reduced energy costs, and funding for pedestrianisation. Reform UK says it would abolish business rates for pubs. The Green Party is calling for affordable leases for local businesses and citizens' assemblies to decide the future of empty properties. Each diagnosis suggests a different cure, and voters must decide which party they trust to deliver.
The deeper problem is that High Street decline is tangled up with forces no single policy can easily untangle: the shift to online retail, regional inequality that has been decades in the making, councils stretched thin by budget cuts, and economic growth that has stalled. Some places have found success in reimagining town centres—adding housing, health services, cultural venues. Historic England ran a four-year programme to convert derelict buildings into cinemas and market halls. Walsall itself has a £1.5 billion regeneration project in the works. But these solutions move slowly, and voters are watching now.
As the local elections approach, the question hanging over Westminster is whether people still believe the traditional parties can fix what is broken, or whether their discontent will push them toward alternatives. More in Common's polling suggests that the sense of neglect tied to declining High Streets runs particularly strong among Reform UK supporters. Politicians across the spectrum seem to understand that ignoring the High Street is no longer an option. But understanding the problem and solving it are different things. For now, voters in places like Walsall are waiting to see if anyone can actually deliver.
Notable Quotes
The public judge their local area and community by the state of the High Street. Signs of neglect are seen as symptoms of wider decline.— Luke Tryl, UK director of More in Common polling
Fixing High Streets is critical to showing people that politics is back on their side. They see visibly the sense of loss that has come to their locality and they feel angry.— Communities Secretary Steve Reed
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does a shuttered shop matter so much to how people vote?
Because it's not abstract. You walk past it every day. It's a visible sign that something is wrong with your place, that money is leaving, that nobody is investing. It becomes proof that politics isn't working.
But couldn't that just be about retail changing? Isn't some of this inevitable?
Sure, online shopping is real. But the inequality is the choice. In London and Cambridge, one in twelve shops are empty. In Bradford, it's one in five. That's not inevitable. That's what happens when some places get investment and others don't.
So voters are angry at their local councils?
They're angry at the whole system. They see the High Street as a barometer. If it's failing, they think the economy is failing, they think government isn't paying attention. It becomes a symbol of being left behind.
Every party is promising something different. Do voters believe any of them?
That's the real question heading into May. The Conservatives want to cut business rates. Labour wants to show they're fixing things. The Lib Dems have VAT cuts. Reform is gaining ground because people feel neglected. Nobody knows if any of these actually work yet.
Is there a town that's actually turned it around?
Some places have tried—adding housing above shops, putting in health centres, cultural venues. But it takes years and money. Voters don't have years. They have the election in May.