The left-wing case for a flexible labour market

Labour market flexibility, if harnessed properly, can be a force for individual and collective good, says Gillian Econopouly.

The economic tumult of the last several years has profoundly shaken the UK and its workforce. The public has witnessed bailouts of major banks, the disappearance of much-loved brands from the British high street and what feels like an unending string of financial collapses and high-level resignations in major organisations, from the media to professional services to public sector bodies like the police. 

Headlines aside, on an individual level, thousands of UK workers have faced redundancy, seen household incomes squeezed by several years of pay freezes or even cuts, or simply held onto jobs they would prefer to move on from but are too nervous to leave, given the economic climate.  

It is no wonder that parties on all sides of the debate are desperately seeking growth wherever it can be found.

But however grim the latest GDP figures, this troubling state of affairs does create an opportunity – and an imperative – to look closely at what we are already good at, and develop this further to the benefit of the entire country. 

And something we should recognise more explicitly as a strength is our flexibility. 

Although as a country we feel pretty battered and bruised in economic terms, the UK’s labour market has actually fared much better than most of our European counterparts in recent years. One reason is because we have a wider variety of ways for people to access work and remain active in the labour market, rather than becoming inactive and losing their skills and confidence in the process. 

There are also more options for employers to take people on and maintain those jobs. According to the CBI, some 83 per cent of employers believe the UK’s labour market flexibility helped stem job losses in the recession, and more than a third of employers used flexible options to keep their firms going. In fact, the OECD employment outlook also showed that UK employment fell much less than expected given the drop in GDP.

So there are advantages to flexibility, but the left has often been hesitant to discuss the subject candidly due to fears of creating a race to the bottom or the erosion of hard-won workers’ rights. These are important concerns and require careful consideration. But we must engage productively with the flexibility debate so it can be properly managed to yield benefits at both the individual and macro level. 

The left’s vision of a successful labour market has traditionally focused around employment – permanent jobs and a fixed workforce. And unless it occurs inside of an employment relationship, we have shied away from talking too much about flexibility, as it has sometimes become almost synonymous with insecurity or worse, the exploitation of vulnerable workers. There is a similar habit when it comes to people working for themselves. Often we associate the words "false" or "forced" with the term "self-employment", thus casting the entire concept into a negative light. 

What has been missing from the debate until now is a willingness to take apart the wider concept of flexibility: to consider its component parts and understand which of those offers the best combination of benefits for the individual and wider economic growth. We need a more nuanced understanding of what labour market flexibility can and does mean.

There is clearly a world of difference between the types of flexibility at different ends of the labour market. It makes little sense to compartmentalise highly-skilled freelancers who actively choose self-employment with low-skilled workers who are, for example, instructed to set up as "self-employed" yet do the same job as their full-time, employed and unionised colleagues. The two share only the same label – not the same labour market profile or characteristics. 

There is no room for exploitation of individuals in a modern, well-functioning UK labour market, through forced self-employment or any other means. And whilst there will unfortunately always be some companies who attempt to take advantage of the system, the answer to this is robust enforcement, not doing away with other types of flexibility. 

Labour market flexibility, if harnessed properly, can be a force for individual and collective good. We must use it to help those who want a permanent job to secure one; and understand that particularly among higher-skilled workers, self-employment can be a positive choice which helps businesses to grow. 

And we must recognise that whilst many do, it’s no longer every worker that wants a full-time, permanent job: the labour market has moved on, and so must we. 

This piece was originally published in the Fabians pamphlet New Forms of Work, available today.

Self-empolyment is more than just blogging in your pants and eating lots of biscuits. Photograph: Getty Images

Gillian Econopouly is the former Head of Policy at the Recruitment & Employment Confederation.

Getty
Show Hide image

The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era