While the ideological certainties underpinning the past six years of cuts may seem to be unravelling, the day-to-day reality is that it is pretty much business as usual.

Look at Grenfell Tower and see the terrible price of Britain’s inequality | Lynsey Hanley Read more

The shame of Grenfell Tower might mark a turning point, but for public services, austerity will be a long time ending. Some of the latest round of austerity measures proposed in the Conservative manifesto – a scrapping of universal free school meals, means-testing of the winter fuel allowance, for example – may be conspicuous by their absence from the Queen’s speech on Wednesday. It seems we must wait until the autumn budget, however, to see how serious the Conservatives are about actually reversing cuts. A pay rise for public servants? Unfreezing benefits? Proper investment in social care? Any of these would be positive shifts; but in themselves they don’t challenge the profound and particular sense of austerity-fuelled unfairness and official neglect that has emerged from the Grenfell tragedy.

Interestingly, one of the first acts of the government last week was to provide a special and unusual exemption for homeless Grenfell Tower residents from the consequences of its own welfare policies. It is a welcome commitment, and the public would expect no less, but the specificity of the pledge to rehouse people locally is revealing: under normal conditions anyone made homeless in Kensington and Chelsea is unlikely to be rehoused in the borough. Ministers clearly felt they could not leave Grenfell tenants to the routine harshness and inadequacy of their housing and benefits policy.

Currently, at least three-quarters of homeless residents in the borough are sent outside, many to the eastern edge of the capital many miles away. High rents and tight benefit caps mean there is practically no affordable property in the west London borough. It may shock the public that the council has committed £10m to buy 40 properties in outer London and beyond to temporarily house some of its expanding cohort of homeless families, but that is the ongoing logic of welfare reform. Nor is it just a peculiar effect restricted to the UK’s richest borough; the benefit cap and housing benefit freeze means that out-of-borough rehousing is now a reality in many parts of England.

Austerity is not just about money, however, but mindset. The low status and shrinking supply of social housing in Kensington and Chelsea is a trend that has been accelerated by legislation that forces councils to sell off high-value social homes when a tenancy ends to enable the government to pay for right-to-buy subsidies to housing association tenants.

According to housing charity, Shelter, the council would be expected to sell off £50m worth of council homes each year. Until now, few Tories have cared about the Manhattanisation of central London; the implicit belief that “if you can’t afford to live here, you shouldn’t live here,” has largely prevailed. Will that now change?

K&C has been justifiably humiliated over its inept response to the Grenfell blaze. But until disaster struck, the Tory council was feted in government circles as the pioneer of a new municipal order. Under its “tri-borough” corporate experiment it merged services with two neighbouring councils in an “efficiency” programme. Hands-off management, contracting out, and cost-cutting were its watchwords. Grenfell residents were well acquainted with this kind of austerity in practice.

I saw a glimpse of it three years ago, when the tri-borough was forced to apologise to parents after a botched, done-on-the-cheap contracting out of home-school transport services for severely disabled children delivered chaos and near tragedy. Council papers showed officials had chosen the cheapest option, with contract evaluation criteria weighted 70% for price and 30% for quality. As a local headteacher said at the time, “I feel that we’re just waiting for a disaster to happen”.