FOR a glimpse of how student housing has changed, drive into Newcastle from the east. First, the route passes through Heaton, a former working-class suburb crammed with terraced housing, the sort of digs long occupied by students. It then continues to Manors, where student accommodation is of a different class: high-rise, purpose-built towers jut out, with more rising from the ground. On a weekday morning during the summer holidays, the side streets are eerily empty, so dominated is the area by students.

Similar neighbourhoods can be found in towns across the country, reflecting the rapid growth of higher education in recent decades. In 1994 there were 1.5m students in Britain. By 2015 there were 2.2m. Economists have found a close link between universities and economic growth. Colleges are big employers and students spend freely and provide a flexible workforce. Universities have helped to transform cities gutted by industrial collapse. In Sheffield, for instance, the city centre’s population more than doubled between 2001 and 2011, and three-quarters of the growth was down to students.

But not everyone is thrilled about the new neighbours. Most students live either in halls of residence or squeezed, sometimes dilapidated accommodation near the university, in neighbourhoods like Heaton. As they cram into houses, services come under pressure. Parking spaces disappear, doctors’ appointments dry up and conflict emerges between students—noisy and messy neighbours at the best of times—and locals.

Problems are most severe in ancient towns that limit development. Ben Howlett, a former MP for Bath, where students account for a quarter of the population during term time, compares the issue to immigration: there are economic benefits but “communities can be transformed overnight”. Indeed, voters in Bath are more likely to complain about students than migrants, he says. Even in areas that have benefited from an influx of scholars, like Ouseburn, a once run-down part of Newcastle, locals remain sceptical. “We have a mix of customers,” explains a barkeeper at the Ship Inn. “We don’t need more students.”

Some councils have responded by intervening in the local housing market. In places as diverse as Bristol and Portsmouth, councils have introduced a directive so that developers need permission to convert family homes into those intended for more occupants. Before it was invoked in Newcastle, families were being pushed out of parts of the city, says Greg Stone, a Liberal Democrat councillor.

Yet the fastest growth has been in the number of students staying in private halls. According to CBRE, a property company, in 2007-08 fewer than 50,000 students lived in such accommodation. Now more than 130,000 do. For local residents, purpose-built halls have advantages, notes Darren Smith, a geography professor at Loughborough University. They tend to be built with all the amenities students need, such as parking, thus reducing pressure on services. They also make it easier to manage behaviour. Wardens can shut down noisy parties and the worst offenders can be chucked out thanks to strict contracts.

But you can have too much of a good thing. In a few cities, such as Newcastle and Liverpool, some fret that new-build accommodation is taking over city centres, squeezing out businesses and other kinds of housing. Because students do not require much space and because their parents are happy to pay high rents, student flats tend to be very profitable. And developers usually do not have to include affordable housing in their plans, as they do with other forms of construction. The result, in some places where land is cheap, is oversupply. One estate agent in Newcastle says that developers would be pleased to see 65-70% occupancy in new towers.

Others complain about the dismal architectural style of new-build student accommodation, which tends to consist of boxy structures with luminous cladding. Construction by universities themselves, which is also booming, tends to be more sympathetic to local concerns. That is wise: bad urban design is a good way to distract people from the enormous benefits that universities bring.