When two-year-old Awaab Ishak tragically died in 2020 after prolonged exposure to mould in his family’s housing association flat, it shocked the nation. His parents, Faisal and Aisha, turned unimaginable grief into tireless campaigning to ensure no other child would die from the same neglect. Their determination has led to the passing of Awaab’s law – a landmark piece of legislation that will finally hold social landlords to account when it comes to tackling mould, damp and other hazards in people’s homes.
This law, which requires social landlords to investigate and repair dangerous issues, such as mould, within strict timeframes, is a victory for justice, compassion and common sense. It puts in writing what should always have been true – that every child, every parent and every person deserves to live in a home that is safe and fit for human habitation.
Awaab’s parents deserve the highest praise. They refused to let their son’s death be just another statistic in the housing crisis. Through their strength, they’ve forced a long-overdue reckoning within social housing – a sector that, for too long, has tolerated excuses, delay and negligence at the expense of human life. I want to extend my heartfelt admiration and thanks to them. Their courage will save lives.
But while Awaab’s law is a step forward, it is not the end of the journey. In its current form, the law only applies to social housing – council and housing association homes. That leaves out millions of renters in the private sector and the thousands of families stuck in temporary accommodation, where conditions are often just as bad, if not worse.
Every week, I speak to people living in homes infested with mould or with leaking ceilings, broken heating, or unsafe electrics. Too many of these homes are privately rented or owned by councils but managed by private companies. I’ve seen mums trying to clean black mould off the walls while their children wheeze with asthma during the night. I’ve seen damp eating away at plaster, ceilings collapsing, and families forced to live in one room because the rest of their home is uninhabitable.
If Awaab’s law truly stands for the principle that no one should live in unsafe housing, that protection cannot stop at the door of social housing. The private rented sector is home to more than 11 million people in England, including many of the most vulnerable. These tenants often have little power, may face revenge evictions when they complain, and are trapped paying sky-high rents for homes in disrepair.
Then there’s temporary accommodation – a system that is supposed to offer short-term refuge for those facing homelessness, but has become a long-term trap. More than 100,000 households, including more than 172,000 children, are living in temporary accommodation in England alone today. Many are placed in properties that are damp, unsafe, or even infested with vermin. Yet because they’re not classified as permanent tenants, they often have no recourse to complain or demand repairs.
We cannot celebrate Awaab’s law while allowing these families to fall through the cracks. Extending the law to cover private and temporary accommodation would ensure that all landlords – whether social, private, or contracted – are held to the same basic legal duty: to provide safe, habitable homes within enforceable time limits.
But even that won’t be enough unless the law is properly funded and enforced. Right now, local authorities are struggling. Environmental health officers and housing enforcement teams have been cut to the bone. Councils can barely keep up with inspections, let alone proactive enforcement. Without funding for training, staff, and legal support, Awaab’s law risks becoming another well-intentioned rule that exists on paper but fails in practice.
This isn’t just a housing issue – it’s a public health emergency. Mould, damp, and disrepair lead to respiratory illness, anxiety, and even death. The NHS spends an estimated £1.4bn a year treating conditions caused or worsened by poor housing. Fixing homes isn’t just a moral duty; it’s an economic necessity.
If the government wants Awaab’s legacy to mean real change, it must do three things. First, extend the law to include private renters and those in temporary accommodation. Second, fund local authorities properly so they can investigate complaints and enforce the law. And last, make sure that tenants are protected from eviction or retaliation when they speak up about unsafe conditions.
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We owe that to Awaab. We owe it to his parents. And we owe it to every child who is still sleeping tonight in a damp, freezing, unsafe home.
Awaab’s law is a reminder that real change only happens when ordinary people demand it. But it’s also a reminder that the fight for safe housing is far from over. We’ve taken a crucial step forward – now it’s time to make sure no one is left behind.
Until every family, in every type of housing, can live in safety and dignity, the work is not done.
