Living wage – coming to a city near you

The challenges are real, but the living wage chimes with the public mood.

The last time a letter left on a desk caused such a stir it involved an exchange between two senior politicians about the future of the country’s finances. This time the note was from a group of Whitehall cleaners to Iain Duncan Smith asking him to make good on his commitment to make work pay and make his department, DWP, a living wage employer. The fact that it so caught the public mood says something about how the question of low pay has risen in salience.  

This is in no small part due to the success of the living wage campaign, a grass-roots movement formed just over a decade ago, to push for a decent wage – above the minimum wage - for workers. It has helped shine a light on the rising problem of in-work poverty. In an era when there are many structural forces bearing down on low pay – from shifts in technology and trade to the continued demise of collective bargaining and the real terms falls in the minimum wage - the momentum behind the campaign for a living wage is a rare example of at least some countervailing pressure.

Yet for all the verve and campaigning success it is still the case that only a relatively small number of people are getting paid a higher wage as a result of working for a living wage employer. For example, in London it is estimated that around 650,000 employees are paid less than the London living wage (£8.30 per hour) yet only around 10,000 have gained an accredited living wage since 2005. Look at the national picture, where a total of six million employees are being paid less than a living wage, and the scale of the low pay challenge becomes clear.

None of which is to say that progress has not been made - thousands of low-paid workers will attest to the difference a living wage has made to their lives – just that the living wage faces a difficult set of challenges as it comes of age.

First, there is the need for the living wage to reach out beyond the public sector and the select parts of the private sector (relatively small numbers of high-profile financial and legal firms) where it currently resides into more mainstream employers. So it is timely that a new report  from the Resolution Foundation and IPPR estimates the impact on the wage bill of large firms across different sectors and challenges some prevailing assumptions. In key sectors like banking, construction, food production and communications - where roughly a million people in total work below the living wage – the typical impact of paying a living wage on the wage bill of large employers is pretty modest at around 1% (and that assumes a knock-on effect on wage differentials for those earning above the living wage).

Average firm-level wage bill increase in different sectors

Source: Resolution Foundation

Of course, the precise cost of a living wage will vary from employer to employer but figures of this size should be absorbable.

Second, is the need to make real progress beyond London where the campaign has traditionally been anchored. The US experience shows how campaigns can move quickly from one city to another, as was the case when the living wage movement first succeeded in securing a higher wage floor in Baltimore in the early 1990s and then quickly spread elsewhere. In the UK we’ve seen the emergence of many new city initiatives over the last year or so - Sheffield, York, and Newcastle have all set up Fairness Commissions following on from the experience in Islington - with the aim of promoting fairer pay across local public and private sectors. It remains to be seen what these processes will achieve but so far it appears that a healthy degree of civic competition is proving a useful spur – and the newly expanded base of Labour-led authorities is only likely to generate more interest.

Third, is the need to ensure that being ambitious about the potential of the living wage doesn’t mean being unrealistic about tax credits. Contrary to what many think (though not the main campaign groups) the living wage is nowhere near high enough to ensure a typical household with children can live independently of state support: indeed the level of the living wage has always been premised on full take-up of in-work tax credits. If it didn’t then the London living wage, for example, would rise from £8.30 an hour to an eye-popping £10.40.  

Finally, there is an unresolved conundrum, both for campaigners and sympathetic politicians, as to the role government should play in expanding coverage of the living wage. This is about philosophy as much as policy. Pure voluntarism, which has been the essence of the campaign to date, may well mean relatively slow progress. Too much statism, for instance through calls for legislation – effectively replacing the minimum wage with a living wage – or expensive tax incentives for employers, would, however, contravene the character of the living wage campaign which has been rooted in a civic process to get employers to take responsibility themselves for paying a decent wage on ethical grounds.  The chasm that exists between relying on moral suasion on the one hand, and top down legislation on the other, needs to be better explored.

While these challenges are real, they all arise from rare success. The living wage is an idea that chimes with the times, allied to a label that works, rooted in a progressive argument that doesn’t rely primarily on more state spending. And that puts it in a very small category indeed.

Many working in key sectors like construction are working below the living wage. Photograph: Getty Images

Gavin Kelly is chief executive of the Resolution Foundation 

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This Ada Lovelace Day, let’s celebrate women in tech while confronting its sexist culture

In an industry where men hold most of the jobs and write most of the code, celebrating women's contributions on one day a year isn't enough. 

Ada Lovelace wrote the world’s first computer program. In the 1840s Charles Babbage, now known as the “father of the computer”, designed (though never built) the “Analytical Engine”, a machine which could accurately and reproducibly calculate the answers to maths problems. While translating an article by an Italian mathematician about the machine, Lovelace included a written algorithm for which would allow the engine to calculate a sequence of Bernoulli numbers.

Around 170 years later, Whitney Wolfe, one of the founders of dating app Tinder, was allegedly forced to resign from the company. According to a lawsuit she later filed against the app and its parent company, she had her co-founder title removed because, the male founders argued, it would look “slutty”, and because “Facebook and Snapchat don’t have girl founders. It just makes it look like Tinder was some accident". (They settled out of court.)

Today, 13 October, is Ada Lovelace day – an international celebration of inspirational women in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). It’s lucky we have this day of remembrance, because, as Wolfe’s story demonstrates, we also spend a lot of time forgetting and sidelining women in tech. In the wash of pale male founders of the tech giants that rule the industry,we don't often think about the women that shaped its foundations: Judith Estrin, one of the designers of TCP/IP, for example, or Radia Perlman, inventor of the spanning-tree protocol. Both inventions sound complicated, and they are – they’re some of the vital building blocks that allow the internet to function. 

And yet David Streitfield, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, someow felt it accurate to write in 2012: “Men invented the internet. And not just any men. Men with pocket protectors. Men who idolised Mr Spock and cried when Steve Jobs died.”

Perhaps we forget about tech's founding women because the needle has swung so far into the other direction. A huge proportion – perhaps even 90 per cent - of the world’s code is written by men. At Google, women fill 17 per cent of technical roles. At Facebook, 15 per cent. Over 90 per cent of the code respositories on Github, an online service used throughout the industry, are owned by men. Yet it's also hard to believe that this erasure of women's role in tech is completely accidental. As Elissa Shevinsky writes in the introduction to a collection of essays on gender in tech, Lean Out: “This myth of the nerdy male founder has been perpetuated by men who found this story favourable."

Does it matter? It’s hard to believe that it doesn’t. Our society is increasingly defined and delineated by code and the things it builds. Small slip-ups, like the lack of a period tracker on the original Apple Watch, or fitness trackers too big for some women’s wrists, gesture to the fact that these technologies are built by male-dominated teams, for a male audience.

In Lean Out, one essay written by a Twitter-based “start-up dinosaur” (don’t ask) explains how dangerous it is to allow one small segment of society to built the future for the rest of us:

If you let someone else build tomorrow, tomorrow will belong to someone else. They will build a better tomorrow for everyone like them… For tomorrow to be for everyone, everyone needs to be the one [sic] that build it.

So where did all the women go? How did we get from a rash of female inventors to a situation where the major female presence at an Apple iPhone launch is a model’s face projected onto a screen and photoshopped into a smile by a male demonstrator? 

Photo: Apple.

The toxic culture of many tech workplaces could be a cause or an effect of the lack of women in the industry, but it certainly can’t make make it easy to stay. Behaviours range from the ignorant - Martha Lane-Fox, founder of, often asked “what happens if you get pregnant?” at investors' meetings - to the much more sinister. An essay in Lean Out by Katy Levinson details her experiences of sexual harassment while working in tech: 

I have had interviewers attempt to solicit sexual favors from me mid-interview and discuss in significant detail precisely what they would like to do. All of these things have happened either in Silicon Valley working in tech, in an educational institution to get me there, or in a technical internship.

Others featured in the book joined in with the low-level sexism and racism  of their male colleagues in order to "fit in" and deflect negative attention. Erica Joy writes that while working in IT at the University of Alaska as the only woman (and only black person) on her team, she laughed at colleagues' "terribly racist and sexist jokes" and "co-opted their negative attitudes”. 

The casual culture and allegedly meritocratic hierarchies of tech companies may actually be encouraging this discriminatory atmosphere. HR and the strict reporting procedures of large corporates at least give those suffering from discrimination a place to go. A casual office environment can discourage reporting or calling out prejudiced humour or remarks. Brook Shelley, a woman who transitioned while working in tech, notes: "No one wants to be the office mother". So instead, you join in and hope for the best. 

And, of course, there's no reason why people working in tech would have fewer issues with discrimination than those in other industries. A childhood spent as a "nerd" can also spawn its own brand of misogyny - Katherine Cross writes in Lean Out that “to many of these men [working in these fields] is all too easy to subconciously confound women who say ‘this is sexist’ with the young girls who said… ‘You’re gross and a creep and I’ll never date you'". During GamerGate, Anita Sarkeesian was often called a "prom queen" by trolls. 

When I spoke to Alexa Clay, entrepreneur and co-author of the Misfit Economy, she confirmed that there's a strange, low-lurking sexism in the start-up economy: “They have all very open and free, but underneath it there's still something really patriarchal.” Start-ups, after all, are a culture which celebrates risk-taking, something which women are societally discouraged from doing. As Clay says, 

“Men are allowed to fail in tech. You have these young guys who these old guys adopt and mentor. If his app doesn’t work, the mentor just shrugs it off. I would not be able ot get away with that, and I think women and minorities aren't allowed to take the same amount of risks, particularly in these communities. If you fail, no one's saying that's fine.

The conclusion of Lean Out, and of women in tech I have spoken to, isn’t that more women, over time, will enter these industries and seamlessly integrate – it’s that tech culture needs to change, or its lack of diversity will become even more severe. Shevinsky writes:

The reason why we don't have more women in tech is not because of a lack of STEM education. It's because too many high profile and influential individuals and subcultures within the tech industry have ignored or outright mistreated women applicants and employees. To be succinct—the problem isn't women, it's tech culture.

Software engineer Kate Heddleston has a wonderful and chilling metaphor about the way we treat women in STEM. Women are, she writes, the “canary in the coal mine”. If one dies, surely you should take that as a sign that the mine is uninhabitable – that there’s something toxic in the air. “Instead, the industry is looking at the canary, wondering why it can’t breathe, saying ‘Lean in, canary, lean in!’. When one canary dies they get a new one because getting more canaries is how you fix the lack of canaries, right? Except the problem is that there isn't enough oxygen in the coal mine, not that there are too few canaries.” We need more women in STEM, and, I’d argue, in tech in particular, but we need to make sure the air is breatheable first. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.