Youth unemployment: what can we learn from Europe?

Germany and the Netherlands provide lessons, but we can't copy their approach wholesale.

Speaking at the launch of The Work Foundation’s Missing Million programme, David Miliband laid part of the blame for the rise in youth unemployment on the "chaotic landscape" faced by young people not bound for university. Yet it doesn’t have to be this way. Strong vocational systems in places like the Netherlands and Germany have served to keep youth unemployment consistently low despite the recession.

We all know that youth unemployment is a big problem – despite a slight recent fall there are still over one million young people out of work. The recession is only one part of the picture. Youth unemployment has been rising since 2003, which many will find surprising given these were the "good times" characterised by a sustained period of economic growth. The youth unemployment problem therefore cannot be explained by economic difficulties alone – its nature is both cyclical and structural. Unfortunately this means that the issue will remain with us even beyond today’s frosty economic climate.

The UK is certainly not alone in crisis – there are other European countries with much higher rates of unemployment. For instance in Spain, youth unemployment is staggeringly high, with half of young people unemployed. The UK itself currently sits around the European average, however in countries such as Germany and the Netherlands the rate has remained consistently low, with fewer than one in ten young people seeking work. Part of the explanation for the comparatively poor performance of the UK must be economic, but it is clear from longer trend data that this is only part of the answer.

Speaking at the event, Professor David Bell quoted Klaus Zimmerman who emphasised the strength of the German apprenticeship system, which he compared to a:

Gigantic microeconomic management exercise that involves all the relevant stakeholders in society.

In the UK, as the government recognises, the quality of apprenticeships is mixed. Currently, the success rate on apprenticeships is lower than other types of vocational skills training – although this is an improvement from a decade ago. Apprenticeships in the UK are much shorter than in some other countries, lasting between one and two years, compared with a norm of three years or longer in Germany and Austria. Another central difference with other countries is employer attitudes. Just 8 per cent of UK employers offer them, compared with a third in Australia – among the lowest in the developed world.

The rebuilding of apprenticeship began under the previous Labour Government and is being grown further by the Coalition. But we begin from a very low base, and it is not just the quantity and quality of the system that it is questionable - the lack of clear pathways into further education or work for those not attending university is compounding the problem, which David Miliband compared to a “field of unmarked landmines”. Part of the strength of the German system, Zimmerman argues, is the focus on detail and the co-ordination of all elements of a young person’s journey.

It is this that makes the difference, not, as Zimmerman said:

Lofty white papers or grandiose policy announcements issued in the national capital.

In Germany the system is built from the bottom-up, involving the whole community. While we have to recognise that we can’t entirely replicate their approach in the UK, we are lacking neither the organisations committed to the problem nor the political will to act. Ultimately, the focus has to be on the experience of each young person, and it is paramount that we ensure a continuity of support between school and the world of work – it is here that we can have the greatest impact.

German apprentices at work in Seimens. Photograph: Getty Images

Katherine Jones is a research assistant  for the The Work Foundation’s Socio-Economic team.

As part of their Bottom Ten Million programme she predominantly been working on a project on inequality in cities and investigating the changing characteristics of NEETs.

She studied politics and economics at the University of Manchester and hold an MSc in Social Policy Research from the London School of Economics.

Lizzie Crowley is leading The Work Foundation's work on Innovation in Cities for the Cities 2020 programme. She will also be running one of the Bottom Ten Million research strands, looking at the clustering of highly skilled workers in particular cities and regions and what this means for those with low skill levels.

Lizzie graduated in Sociology and has a master's degree in Social Science Research Methods, both from the University of Glasgow.

 

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.