The silent crisis engulfing our pubs

Pub workers are battling against a corrupt set of markets rigged against them.

Pub workers are battling against a corrupt set of markets rigged against them.

Mark Dodds sits opposite me in a café. He looks bereft as he clutches a little cappuccino. It's as if he was made to stand behind a bar, and he looks awkward in a chair. After sixteen years of running his pub in Camberwell, it finally closed down in September.

"We were making a profit until 2005," says Dodds, "We were still a viable business, we just got squeezed from the top. I fought and fought but in the end I had to let go... Honestly, it's a relief to be signing on."

A silent crisis is engulfing our pubs, and the reasons behind it are little known. It blows like a chill across the country, sweeping in and out of the boarded up pub fronts in our inner cities all the way to our remotest rural corners where punters huddle over their pints in their few remaining social centres.

Last year sixteen pubs closed every week. To put that in perspective, that's over two every day. In the last two years, over 1,000 pubs have disappeared from Britain's suburbs alone.

If this was just the result of market demand, the story would be a sad one. But the real story inspires anger. Pub workers are battling against a dark, corrupt set of markets that are rigged against them. Many are going down not because they need to, but because they're forced to.

Think of your local pub. The chances are that it will be "tied", meaning that it is most likely owned by one of the big pub companies. That people who are actually running that pub - the "Publicans" - are forced to pay rent at prices the owners decide (dry rent) and buy beer at the prices they set (wet rent).

These pub company giants are not household names. Enterprise Inns owns 6,000 pubs; Punch Taverns owns about the same. Looking from the outside, it's not easy to tell which pubs have ties and which don't. They don't have to be chains. Today over half of Britain's pubs are tied, and it's squeezing them into submission.

In one of the most shocking statistics, a recent IPPR report found that 46 per cent of publicans in tied pubs earned less than £15,000 a year, compared to only 22 per cent of non-tied publicans.

I'm not often disappointed by the FT, but when they reported on the decline of pubs in this article last week, they failed to tell this story.

"Tied pubs offer you promises of support and training and good beer prices, but they are often lies", says Jonathan Mail at the Campaign for Real Ale, "It's only after you've invested £50,000 of your own money that it doesn't turn out that way, and your beer prices suddenly jump arbitrarily high."

Mark Dodds said he had to buy £2,000 of beer a week from his pub company, when he could have bought the same amount for £1,200 from a wholesale supplier down the road. When he first took over the pub the rent was £32,000, but at the next round of negotiations his pub company wanted to more than double it. The 68 per cent hike they finally settled on, combined with another rise in the next review, bankrupted him.

"If I'd been able to keep our profits for extra investment," says Dodds, "I could have made that pub work."

Why would any pub company want to squeeze its managers in this way? Some say short-termism. As long as you gain the target level of return over the whole portfolio it doesn't matter if one or two get squeezed along the way. In some cases, it may even suit companies to force the publicans out of business so the site can be sold to a property developer. That explanation is at least consistent with the free market, but it still leaves a community without a pub.

We should remember that Britain's 50,000 pubs are more than watering holes. They are centres of our community, as Jamie Wright's sweet film aboutThe Railway in Wales shows. Interesting IPPR research has tried to put an economic tag on the social value of a pub. By factoring in things like the equivalent cost of holding community meetings elsewhere, they found that each pub offered between £20,000 and £120,000 of community value a year. That's on top of the £6 billion tax revenue and one million people they are estimate to employ.

This is not unrelated to the High Streets First campaign. At the moment, betting shops and pay day loan companies can move into former pubs without planning permission. "The Hope" in my constituency was the last pub on Rye Lane, now it's a Paddy Power. Local people feel that they are losing control of the high streets they love.

Of course pubs face other challenges. Demand is falling. Competition is increasing. Supermarkets are serving a new generation more interested in intoxication than conversation. With beer duty set to go up 10p a pint in the budget on top of VAT rises, there are worries that another wave of pubs will be pushed over edge, and free holders like the Railway are also at risk. But according to IPPR's research, it's still the tied pubs that are suffering most.

So what do we do about it? Dodds is exploring setting up a co-operative pub chain, The People's Pub Partnership, and it's worth supporting. It's also worth asking your local pub whether they are tied, and how they are being treated. With punters onside, publicans can increase the pressure on owners for a better deal.

As for policy, the Campaign for Real Ale is calling on the government to give publicans the choice to leave the tie completely at their next round of rent negotiations. Pub companies would still have a few years to make their ties attractive, and pubs wouldn't leave all at once. It wouldn't just help the publicans and the communities that treasure them, it would also be consistent with the free market.

Rowenna Davis is a journalist and author of Tangled up in Blue: Blue Labour and the Struggle for Labour's Soul, published by Ruskin Publishing at £8.99. She is also a Labour councillor.

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

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Is "successful" sperm really the measure of a man's masculinity?

An advertising campaign challenging men to "prove your worth" is being proposed to increase dwindling numbers of sperm donors – will the myth that only "real" men have potent sperm ever die?

Are you a superman? By which I mean, do you have the kind of sperm that would be accepted by the UK Sperm Bank, currently stuck with only nine donors on the books? Laura Witjens, chief executive, is currently launching a drive to recruit more donors. Her secret weapon? An appeal to male vanity.

Speaking to the Guardian, Witjens claims that if she advertised saying, “Men, prove your worth, show me how good you are”, it would be a route to gaining “hundreds of donors”. The implication is that beta males need not apply; this is for “real” men only. And what better way to demonstrate one’s manly credentials than through the spreading of one’s super-strength, 100 per cent proof, ultra-potent seed?

The proposed campaign approach serves to remind us of two things: first, the male ego is ridiculous, and second, reproductive ability is still treated as an indicator of whether or not one is a “successful” representative of one’s sex. However much we claim that biology is no longer destiny, certain expectations linger. “Real men” have high-quality sperm and want to see it distributed as widely as possible. “Real women,” on the other hand, only end up unable to reproduce if they have “left it too late” (that is, spent too much time in what is still seen as the world of men).

That fertility is primarily linked to luck rather than sexist morality tales is something we’d rather not admit. After all, far too many cultural edifices have been built around the idea that the opposite is true.

For something that resembles runny PVA glue, sperm has done well for itself. Throughout history, men have been obsessed with their precious seed and what it means for their status as the dominant sex. Since it is women who get pregnant – women who perform the actual task of gestating and birthing new human beings – there has always been a need to inflate the importance of semen, lest men should be sidelined completely. Whereas for women reproduction is a continuous process, for men it is more disjointed and conceptual. Hence it is important to have something to rely on. In sperm we trust.  

Otherwise can a man ever be sure – really, really sure – that a baby is his? For biological mothers, maternity is never in question. For biological fathers, paternity needs to be established. There are various ways of achieving this: heterosexual marriage, compulsory monogamy, the policing of women’s sexual choices, the withholding of material resources from women in return for sexual exclusivity, the threat of an appearance on Jeremy Kyle.

And then there are the various myths regarding how magical and special your own sperm is. It had to be you, didn’t it? He shoots, he scores. How else would the phrase “Who’s the Daddy?” have come into its current usage? The “skill” of impregnation is linked to manliness. If you’re a real man, the implication is, then you’ve nothing to fear.

The “superman” theme proposed by Witjens harks back to the various ways in which men have sought to position themselves and their sperm right at the centre of human reproduction, believing, for instance, that it already contained human beings in miniature, or that women merely provided the passive matter that would bring their active principle to life.

The biology I learned at school still played on the narrative of the hardy, valiant sperm battling against all odds to reach the passive, if somewhat capricious, egg. Sex education met gender indoctrination; it even seemed to be implied that the egg, in closing off entry to all other sperm once the “victor” had penetrated her boundaries, was being a bit of a tease (she’d already set off down the fallopian tube, what did she expect?). Pregnancy itself, we were led to believe, could never match the creativity, risk and drama of that one initial shag.

To respond to such myth-making with “but it’s only sperm and actually it could be anyone’s” seems positively mean. Women are supposed to worship it. Our effluvia – vaginal discharge, menstrual blood, breast milk – might be seen as disgusting, but when it comes to a man’s cum, it’s considered rude not to want to swallow it. People who respond with outrage when a woman suckles her baby in a crowded café think nothing of the idea that a real woman should want to gulp down semen with gusto. Patriarchal semiotics tell us that what comes out of men is life-giving and hygienic; women, on the other hand – popping out babies and sustenance – merely leak. It takes a brave woman to say, “hang on, is semen really all that?”

In the UK at least, it would seem that it isn’t. According to Witjens, getting one’s sperm approved for the UK Sperm Bank is exceptionally difficult because of how strong the product needs to be to survive the freezing and thawing process: “If 100 guys enquire, ten will come through for screenings and maybe one becomes a donor. It takes hundreds of guys.” Meaning most men don’t actually measure up to “superman” standards (without even considering what this approach says to men with a low sperm count, of whom it is suggested that the manhood test has been well and truly failed).

Her advertising strategy may be one that works. But it would be nice if, in a society that increasingly favours a politics of acquisition over one of care, we could be a little less focused on the potency of the mighty seed, looking instead at this particular form of donation as part of a broader process of creating and caring for others. Perhaps appeals to male vanity just work better than appeals to altruism. Even so, it’s a pity that it has to be so.

The aftermath of sperm donation can be complicated. Once one gets beyond the cash and the ego trips, the process can lead to real children with a real need to know the identity of the donor. Whereas in the past social convention allowed men to define ownership of children on their terms, nowadays globalisation and reproductive technology have led to a splintering of roles. Is it care or biology that makes a parent? What is it that shapes an identity and makes a person?

For most of us, the humane position is that nurture – the act of being there – must trump any biological contribution. To think otherwise is unfair on those who devote years of their lives to the raising of children. But for many donor-conceived adults, the donor is still needed to complete the picture of who one really is. And he will not be a superman. He will be a person who gave something small that nevertheless contributed to the creation of something miraculous: a life. And shouldn’t that be enough?

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of two who works in publishing.