BY LIZZIE PEAKE
When planning policy spirals, what’s left of our green spaces?
Labour’s planning reforms are the most radical in a generation. The revised National Planning Policy Framework, which came into force in August 2026, introduces “automatic planning permission” around station hubs and weakens the ability of local authorities to refuse development. The new “grey belt” designation opens up swathes of green belt land that were previously off-limits. Ministers insist this will not mean “building 20-storey tower blocks in the middle of nowhere” and that ancient woodlands remain protected. But the cracks are already showing.
Coombe Lane Woods in Sunninghill proves the point. This ancient woodland near Ascot is a priority deciduous woodland habitat, a designated local wildlife site, and covered by Tree Preservation Orders. Yet an offshore company acquired the woodland title, carved the site into roughly 17 separate plots, sold them to individual investors, and then blocked public access. The Green Belt status, the TPOs, and the absence of any infrastructure mean actual development faces serious barriers. But that misses the point: the woodland has already been lost as a public space. Residents can no longer enter. Legal processes drag on. And the speculative expectation that has driven all of this — that land can be bought, sliced up, and cashed in — only grows stronger when planning policy sends the signal that development is welcome.
This is not an isolated case. Ascot is already absorbing significant growth, with residents describing the area as “swamped” by new housing. The chairman of Sunninghill and Ascot Parish Council’s planning committee has noted that multiple applications fail on green belt impact, village character, and parking provision. Once the policy door is opened, individual cases become a trend.
How big does London need to be?
Where does the countryside stop and the city end?
With quaint old towns like Epsom and Leatherhead getting subsumed by the metropolis, the trend seems to be to carpet anything green near London with development.
To understand where that trend leads, look at Bangalore.
This was once the garden city of Karnataka. Today, 87.6% of its area is concrete. Trees and water bodies account for less than 12%. In the 1970s, green cover stood at around 60%. By the 2010s it had fallen to 20%. Now it is in single digits. A single 2.2-kilometre tunnel project will affect 893 trees, most of them mature, with transplantation offering little real hope of survival. The Karnataka government has even amended the law to allow 5% of protected parkland to be used for infrastructure. Citizens are campaigning under the banner “Not 5%, not one inch.”
The loss is tangible. Bangalore’s urban green spaces are cooler than their surroundings by an average of 2.23°C, with a cooling effect that extends up to 347 metres. As the trees disappear, the heat island intensifies, air quality worsens, outdoor workers lose shade, and groundwater recharge declines. Bangalore’s transformation from a city where a light jumper sufficed in summer to one dependent on air conditioning has taken only a few decades.
British policymakers may believe it could never happen here. But the logic is identical. When “default approval” and “grey belt” relaxation become the direction of travel, when local planning departments are told to reduce “gold-plating”, when the political will to build outweighs the political will to protect, the erosion of green space is not a slippery slope fallacy. It is a foreseeable consequence. Developer greed takes over. Tree Preservation Orders can be amended. Green Belt boundaries can be redrawn. Public access can quietly vanish in legal limbo. Coombe Lane is the proof.
Labour’s own housing minister has admitted their target of 1.5 million homes is “unlikely to be met”. In the 12 months to June 2026, England delivered around 203,000 homes — far short of the 300,000 a year required. If the target itself cannot be met, the environmental cost paid in its name becomes even harder to justify.
The residents of Sunninghill, Ascot and the surrounding community will gather at the edge of the woodland on the 26th of September. Not to stop houses being built, but to remember what the woods have meant — a place where generations have walked, exercised dogs, watched wildlife, and found peace. Their leaflet carries a simple line: “Every generation inherits places that help define the character of its community.”
David Fox, a local resident, said: “The future of Coombe Lane Woods raises legitimate questions about private ownership, about the community’s long relationship with the woodland, about conservation, access and safety. These interests do not always sit comfortably together. But nor should we assume they can never be reconciled. Rather than ask who should win or lose, we ask: how can Coombe Lane Woods continue to enrich the lives of both its owners and the wider community?”
The underlying question is this: if every generation develops the green spaces left to it, what will be left for the next to inherit?