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How safe is your job?

This has been a year of financial panic, but 2009 will be dominated by unemployment. In a flexible l

The poster that won the 1979 general election was a fake. The "Labour isn't working" dole queue was ac tually composed of 20 fully employed Hendon Conservatives, photo graphed by Saatchi & Saatchi. But there was nothing synthetic about the impact that the poster had on the Labour government of James Callaghan. Never again, Labour resolved, could the party afford to go to the country when the country was out of work. Yet that is what Gordon Brown risks doing, if you believe the spin about him delaying the next general election until 2010.

This was a year of financial panic as oil prices spiked, banks collapsed and stock markets tumbled. But it is likely that 2009 will be the year of the dole. Unemployment, already higher than at any time since Labour came to office in 1997, is expected to climb to almost three million by 2010, according to the Confederation of British Industry. The turnaround in the UK employment market has been astonishing. The pace of job losses, led by the shake-out in the banking sector, has astounded analysts: the Centre for Economic and Business Research (CEBR) has forecast that 300,000 private-sector jobs will have been lost in the six months to the end of this year alone. The CBI's forecast, made only a few days ago, is almost certainly an underestimate, because it is based on Britain's GDP declining by 1.7 per cent in 2009. The Bank of England is now talking about the economy shrinking by 2 per cent next year, as Britain enters the worst recession since the 1980s. Capital Economics has forecast that unemployment will peak at 3.3 million in 2010.

The situation is already worse than the formal statistics suggest. Stephen King, of HSBC, argues that the official International Labour Organisation unemployment figures exclude two million people who are economically inactive but would like a job.

What is undeniable is that British firms are taking advantage of the "flexible" labour market to fire first and think later. Unusually, the region hardest hit is likely to be the one most able to cope: the south-east. The London area alone could lose 650,000 jobs, according to the Local Government Association. This is one of the wealthiest areas on the planet thanks to the financial services sector based in the City. Redundant middle-class professionals might find life a little different on £60-a-week Jobseeker's Allowance, but most can probably look after themselves. The people who will have their lives destroyed first are the legion of temporary and casual workers, many of whom do not figure in the unemployment statistics because of their age or country of origin.

Many of the new redundancies are unavoidable, but there are signs, too, that some firms are reducing their workforce as a message to shareholders, hoping to bolster their equity prices. When BT announced 10,000 redundancies on 13 November it made no attempt to play down the human cost and, according to some analysts, even exaggerated the job losses for effect.

After three decades of losing industries, the UK desperately needs to protect the skills it has left, not allow them to dissipate in the lengthening dole queues

Firms such as Virgin Media, Rolls-Royce, Yell, Wolseley and Citigroup have all announced thousand-plus job cuts in the past few weeks alone. The flexible labour market, inspired by the Tories and realised by new Labour, has allowed contraction to be a first, rather than a last, resort. It is the quickest way for a management in trouble to show that it is doing something.

The problem is that these job losses, rather like the banks' refusal to lend to small business, are enormously destructive to the broader economy. After nearly three decades of losing productive in dustries, the UK desperately needs to protect those skills it has, not allow them to dissipate in the dole queues. But with trade unions weak, employment law liberal and the government compliant, firms are being allowed to throw out the seedcorn of the future.

Only the state would be able to counter the effects of this attrition. In the pre-Budget report, the Chancellor's measures on benefits, pensions and VAT were intended to boost pre-Christmas demand in the high streets. However, the government is severely limited in its ability directly to fill the jobs gap. Yes, the public sector is still hiring, and will have put on 50,000 jobs in the six months to the end of the year, according to the CEBR. But, with public borrowing likely to reach at least £118bn next year, there will have to be a retrenchment in the labour-intensive public sector to get the public finances into some kind of order in the medium term. Make no mistake - the price of this year's fiscal stimulus is likely to be public-sector job losses, even with the Chancellor's heroic, and unrealistic, assumptions about an economic recovery in 2010.

In this instance, the weakness of the pound is unlikely to boost employment in export industries. This is a global recession, perhaps a global depression, and Britain cannot rely on international markets to replace lost domestic demand. There is also likely to be a wave of protectionism, starting in the US, as countries seek to save their own core industries with state subsidies and other anti-competitive tools. The world market may be a tougher place in which to sell in future. Anyway, Britain has lost most of its manufacturing base - down to 14 per cent of GDP.

In recent years, most of our "exports" have been in financial services - "invisibles", the demand for which will be slight for the duration of the credit crunch.

We can be thankful at least that the right man is in the White House at the right time. Alistair Darling has moved some way towards matching Barack Obama’s plan to create 2.5 million jobs over the next two years through public work projects and alternative energy investment. Yet this will not happen quickly and will do little to alter job losses already in train. And, in America, which is 12 to 18 months further advanced into the recession than Britain, life is already desperate for people on the margin.

The US department of agriculture reported on 17 November that the number of children who went hungry in 2007 - the first year of the credit crunch - jumped by 50 per cent to almost 700,000. It said that, overall, 12.2 per cent of Americans, 36.2 million people, "do not have the money or assistance to get enough food to maintain active, healthy lives". It could happen here.

At the very least Britain faces a return to a period of sustained joblessness, and to the destructive psychology that accompanied it. There will be dole queues, of course, but the social composition of the new jobless - led by financial services, property, retail - will be very different from what we saw in the early 1980s. As a recent report from the Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development argued, those at most risk in the coming "redundancy torrent" will be managers, professionals and skilled non-manual workers.

Tens of thousands of jobs are about to eva porate from British banks. Multiply that by all the professional jobs which depended on those middle-class incomes, such as estate agents and lawyers. Certainly, the first to be hit will be those at the bottom. But they are likely to be joined by large numbers of articulate, middle-class individuals shaken out of the financial, media and peripheral service occupations - from aroma therapy to management consultancy - which have grown up during the long boom.

Middle-class workers are not ready for this and it will be a shock to their self-confidence and self-esteem – a social and cultural transformation that could have profound political implications.

In the 1980s, the middle classes were still relatively secure in their career structures in management and the professions. They had homes, occupational pensions, clear employment paths. Certainly, they were a world away from the trade unionists fighting for their jobs in the old industrial heartlands of Britain. Margaret Thatcher relied on the middle classes to support her war on the militants with their braziers - and to blame them for the recession of the 1980s. The braziers are gone and the industrial working class has largely been dismantled. So, too, have the secure middle-class career structures.

Those who will suffer are the children of the baby boomers, who graduate with high debts and higher expectations

In the 1980s, professional and other white- collar jobs were, by and large, jobs for life, with annual pay increments, annual promotion, pension rights and a predictable future. Not any longer. The modern media, for example, are a shifting sea of freelance and contract workers for subcontractors to the large institutions. Even at the BBC, where I started out, there may be a crust of well-paid performers and anonymous executives who earn more than the Prime Minister, but below that is a huge army of irregulars, often on low salaries, coming in and out of the corporation's revolving doors. The commercial sector has been relying on large numbers of underpaid or unpaid "interns" desperate for work. This is the flexible labour market at its most pernicious. Such practices are widespread throughout the British economy.

Deregulation and leveraged buyouts by private equity over the past two decades have left many firms with flattened management structures, often relying on outside consultants to get them through busy periods. Occupational pensions have become a rarity. Promotion has become intensely meritocratic. Companies increasingly "offshore" white-collar functions to countries such as India, where an educated middle class is willing to work for much lower wages. Most of the job losses at BT are among self-employed contract workers in the UK; the firm has not cut any of the jobs it has outsourced to India.

The group hit hardest is the under-35s, sons and daughters of the postwar baby boomers, who have emerged from university with high debts and even higher expectations. These are the young people who have little experience of recession and none of mass unemployment. Neither have many of their parents, who lived through the 1970s and 1980s largely untouched by unemployment or debt. If there is to be a political response to the new depression, it is likely to emerge from this group of déclassé graduates, many of whom face a future without the security they have been brought up to expect. They will not be able to afford houses or establish careers. Indeed, the under-35s have so much personal debt that their net wealth is actually negative. Three-quarters of the under-35s are in the red, according to the Skipton Building Society, owing more than £9,000 on average. They will look to the state for security, but the state will not be able to deliver.

This time there is no trade union menace to blame for economic distress

A Ministry of Defence think tank has made a remarkable forecast about political militancy. The Development, Concepts and Doctrine Centre published a report in April 2007 in which it speculated that in coming years “the world’s middle classes might unite, using access to knowledge, resources and skills to shape transnational processes in their own class interest”. “The middle classes could become a revolutionary class taking the role envisaged for the proletariat by Marx . . . the growing gap between themselves and a small number of highly visible super-rich might fuel disillusion,” the report said.

The idea of a revolution sweeping suburbia is faintly risible, though it was a subject of a recent J G Ballard novel, Kingdom Come. But the MoD may have grasped an important truth about the nature of politics in the new global economy. It is beginning to erode class differentiation and has left many middle-income earners exposed to the kind of insecurities that formerly afflicted only lower-class workers. Clearly, the economic circumstances of management consultants cannot be compared directly with those of retail workers. But when they lose their jobs, they face very similar challenges: mortgage and credit-card debt, catastrophic loss of earnings and the need for retraining.

Part of the difficulty experienced by the Conservative leader, David Cameron, in developing a coherent political response to Gordon Brown's neo-Keynesianism, is that the party of capital has lost its "class enemy": the industrial working class. There is no trade union menace to blame for economic distress and the Conservatives have had to fall back on "fiscal conservatism" - or reduced public spending. This is simply not a priority for an electorate that is looking to the state to protect it from the predations of the market. Equally, new Labour under Brown has been forced almost against its will to become more critical of the plutocracy running the banks, to accept nationalisation and greatly increased government spending. Brown's government has even had to abandon one of the founding principles of new Labour by proposing higher taxes on the rich.

The Conservatives, who have not entirely lost their Thatcherite reflexes, are looking to the middle classes to react against the new profligacy - but they will find it difficult to do so. As un employment mounts among the middle classes, especially among the under-35s, there is going to be a much stronger demand for policies which promote jobs and growth even at the cost of public borrowing. The Tories cannot afford to be on the wrong side in this battle.

As Martin Hutchinson, author of Great Conservatives, has expressed it: "A world in which few if any have security in their livelihood is not conservative, it is anarchist. It is also deeply repugnant to the average voter."

If Labour isn't working, neither are the Conservatives.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2008 issue of the New Statesman, How safe is your job?

© MARK PETERSON/REDUX/EYEVINE
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Goodbye to the Confederate flag

After the shootings in Charleston, the Republican right showed it was finally ready to reject the old symbols of the Confederacy.

On 27 June, an African-American activist named Bree Newsome woke up before dawn, put on her climbing equipment and scaled a 30-foot flagpole on the lawn of State House in Columbia, South Carolina. She then removed the Confederate battle flag that flew from it. “We can’t wait any longer,” she explained later in an online statement. “It’s time for a new chapter where we are sincere about dismantling white supremacy.”

After she was led away in handcuffs, the flag was raised again.

Newsome’s protest reflected a growing impatience within America’s black community and anger about liberal inaction. Political rallies by the Democratic presidential contenders Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders have been disrupted by the Black Lives Matter campaign against violence committed on young African Americans and the cultural and legal biases that justify it. While promoting his book on race in the US, the writer Ta-Nehisi Coates argued that, to African Americans, the battle flag represents a lingering attempt “to bury the fact that half this country thought it was a good idea to raise an empire rooted in slavery”.

Yet, on this matter, to everyone’s surprise, the black civil rights movement and many southern Republicans have proved to be of one mind. On 9 July the House of Representatives in South Carolina voted to lower the battle flag for good. It stood, representatives said, for racism. It had to go.

The context of this agreement was a painful one. Ten days before Newsome’s act, a 21-year-old white man named Dylann Roof shot and killed nine black worshippers at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina. According to his room-mate, he wanted to start a race war. The TV screens showed a photo of him holding a gun in one hand and a Confederate battle flag in the other.

If the demands for redress made by civil rights groups didn’t come as a surprise, conservative acquiescence did. The Republican Party had built a solid base in the South by courting white voters who cherished the memory of the Confederacy. Yet the party’s presidential hopefuls from both the North and the South – including Jeb Bush, Lindsey Graham, Scott Walker and George Pataki – said that the battle flag ought to be lowered. The most striking intervention was made by the governor of South Carolina, Nikki Haley, who denounced the use of the Confederate flag and signed the bill removing it. Haley is now tipped to figure on the list of potential vice-presidential nominees.

The volte-face of the US right is in part a result of the horror of the Charleston shootings. Yet it also occurs in the context of major shifts within American society. There are still many conservatives who will defend Confederate heritage as a matter of southern pride but the culture wars are changing as the US becomes increasingly European in outlook. This is taking place across the country. It just happens to be more pronounced in the South because no other region has fought so violently and so long to resist the liberal tide.

The story of the battle flag is the story of the South. The first official Confederate flag used in the civil war of 1861-65 caused confusion during fighting – through the haze of gun smoke, its design of 13 stars and red and white bars was hard to distinguish from the Stars and Stripes. An alternative blue cross was rejected for being too sectarian; the racist Confederacy was anxious not to offend its Jewish citizens. So the cross became a diagonal X. This flag was never officially adopted by the Confederate army. In the years after the war its use was infrequent.

There was little need to visualise southern difference in a flag. It was self-evident in the physical signs of racial segregation: separate schools, pools and drinking fountains; black people confined to the back of the bus. Political displays of the battle flag of Dixie (the historical nickname for the states that seceded from the Union) only really resurfaced when that racial order was challenged by northern liberals. In 1948, the Democrats – then the party overwhelmingly in control of the South – split over modest calls for civil rights. The conservatives who refused to support that year’s presidential ticket, the “Dixiecrats”, triggered a rev­ival of flag-waving across the region.

The old battle flag suddenly appeared on private lawns, on cars and at political rallies. Supposedly ancient cultural traditions were invented overnight. For instance, the 1948 student handbook of the University of Mississippi confessed: “Many Ole Miss customs are fairly new; they lack only the savouring which time brings . . . Ole Miss has adopted the Confederate flag as a symbol of the Mississippi spirit. Each football game finds the scarlet flag frantically waving to the rhythm of the Rebel band.”

I can confirm that this “tradition” was still going as recently as in 2005. That year, I attended an American football game at Ole Miss and was surprised when the band played “Dixie” at the end. White boys and white girls stood up and belted out the folk song of the Confederacy, while black students filed out.

In 1958, South Carolina made it a crime to desecrate the battle flag. Three years later, on the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of the civil war, it was hoisted above its Capitol building in Columbia. That day, there was a struggle in the US Congress to keep federal funding going for segregated schools.

So clear is the link between the postwar white resistance to civil rights and the battle flag that many see it as the symbolic equivalent of the N-word. Jack Hunter, the editor of the conservative website Rare Politics, says: “Some people insist that it’s not about racism, not about slavery, not about segregation. But it’s about all those things.” Hunter grew up in Charleston and used to skateboard in the car park of the church that Dylann Roof attacked. When he was a young journalist, he appeared on local radio as a rabidly right-wing masked character called “the Southern Avenger”. His past was exposed in 2013 while he was working for Rand Paul, a Republican presidential candidate, and Hunter stepped down from his position. He publicly renounced his youthful association with racial conservatism. He now eschews any romanticism about the Confederate cause and its demand for states’ rights. “States’ rights to do what?” he asks: the right to discriminate against African Americans? He is glad that the State House flag is gone. He ascribes its longevity to ignorance, which was corrected by Roof’s rampage: “It was the first time that [southern Republicans] were able to see a different perspective on this symbol.”

Not everyone agrees. Richard Hines – a former South Carolina legislator, Reagan campaign state co-chair and senior activist with the Sons of Confederate Veterans – insists that the flag is “an enduring symbol of the southern fighting man”. Indeed, a poll in July found that 57 per cent of Americans think it stands for southern heritage, rather than racism. Yet that heritage has a political dimension. “Southern people are proud of who they are and there is a leftist assault to destroy the best part of America,” Hines says. “The Trotskyite elite in control of the establishment wants to root out the southern tradition” – a tradition of religious devotion, chivalry and military honour. It is possible to cast the battle flag as a pawn in a much larger cultural conflict.

In 2000, civil rights activists lobbied hard to get the battle flag removed from the top of the South Carolina Capitol and succeeded in having it shrunk in size and relocated to the grounds of State House. The issue came up in that year’s Republican presidential primaries – an unusually poisonous contest between George W Bush and John McCain. Supporters of Bush put out a false story that McCain had fathered an interracial child out of wedlock. McCain added to his woes by opining that the battle flag was “a symbol of racism and slavery”. An organisation called Keep It Flying flooded the state with 250,000 letters attacking him and he lost the crucial competition here to Bush.

The battle flag has retained a strong emotional power for a long time. This makes the Republican establishment’s abandonment of the flag all the more surprising. Then again, those who run the South are probably the people most likely to grasp how much the region has changed in just a decade.

***

In 2010 I took a trip through North Carolina. The landscape told a story. Dotted along the roadside were abandoned black buildings, the old tobacco sheds. The decline of the rural economy had rendered them obsolete. Over the fields that would once have been full of farmers were freshly tarmacked roads, stretching out to nowhere. My guide explained that these were supposed to be cul-de-sacs for new houses. North Carolina was going through a property boom. But who was going to buy all those homes, I asked? The answer: damn Yankees.

Demography is destiny. This once agri­cultural region developed fast from the 1960s onwards by keeping union membership, taxes and regulation as low as possible. Yet capitalism proved disastrous for southern conservatism. Northerners flooded in, seeking work or retirement and bringing their own values. The forecast is that North Carolina’s Research Triangle – the South’s Silicon Valley – will grow by 700,000 jobs and 1.2 million people in two decades.

White migration was accompanied by an influx of Spanish speakers as the service sector flourished. Between 2000 and 2010, the white share of the population of North Carolina fell from 70 to 65 per cent. The black proportion remained at roughly 21 per cent. The Latino proportion, however, jumped from 4.7 per cent to 8.4 per cent. Today, the proportion of people who are non-white and over 60 is about a third. But it’s approaching nearly half for those under 18. As a result, politics in the South is no longer biracial: a contest between white and black. It is increasingly multiracial and uncoupled from the region’s complex past.

The impact of these changes is reflected in voting patterns. In 2000, the South was still overwhelmingly Republican in presidential contests. Even the Democratic nominee, Al Gore, a southerner, lost his home state of Tennessee. But in 2008 and 2012, Barack Obama took those states with the fastest-changing demographics: Florida and Virginia. He won North Carolina in 2008 and lost it in 2012 – but by less than 100,000 votes. It is true that the Republicans won back control in the 2014 midterm elections, with the result that the Deep South now sends few Democrats to Congress; but the region’s political masters are not quite as traditional-minded as they once were.

The Republican relationship with the Confederate past is complex. As the party of Abraham Lincoln and the Union, the GOPs’ southern support was historically small. But in the 1960s the national Democratic Party embraced civil rights and alienated its once loyal southern following; the Republicans took the opportunity to steal some conservative white voters.

The growing southern Republican vote had a class component. Its success in local and congressional races was built more on winning over middle-class moderates than on appealing to the working-class racists who filled the ranks of the Ku Klux Klan. The southern Republican Party did enthusiastically embrace the Confederate battle flag in many quarters. But some office-holders did so only with ambiguity, while large sections of the party never identified with it at all. The period of Republican ascendancy in the South was, in reality, linked with a softening of the area’s racial politics.

Two of the Republicans’ current southern stars are Indian Americans: Bobby Jindal, the governor of Louisiana, and Nikki Haley, the anti-flag governor of South Carolina. There are just two black people in the US Senate and one of them is a Republican, the Tea Party-backed senator for South Carolina, Tim Scott. Marco Rubio, the Floridian senator and presidential candidate, is Cuban American, and the former Florida governor Jeb Bush is married to a Mexican-born woman and speaks fluent Spanish. Bush has tried to push a more moderate line on immigration, in deference to how the GOP will struggle to win the White House if it appeals only to angry white voters. The Kentucky libertarian senator Rand Paul, Jack Hunter’s former boss, has called for legal reforms to correct the trend of keeping far more black than white people in prison. And he is not the only Republican to have been moved by recent race riots sparked by police violence.

***

Violence on the streets of Ferguson, Missouri, and Baltimore, Maryland, confirmed that there still is a culture war in the US. Yet its character has changed. In the past, civil disturbances were typically leapt upon by conservative politicians as evidence of social decline. The 1992 LA riots were blamed on single parenthood and rap lyrics. In contrast, conservative leaders today are far more likely to acknowledge the problems of white racism. There is no place in their ranks for the likes of Dylann Roof. White supremacists are tiny in number.

Jack Hunter claims: “The KKK is like 12 guys in a telephone booth. Liberal groups will use their threat for fundraising but it doesn’t exist. It hasn’t properly since the 1960s.” Roof’s actions say more about gun control, mental illness and the angst of the young than they do about popular, largely liberal views on race, as polling shows.

We can see a similar liberal shift in other areas of the historic culture war. In May 2015 Gallup released the results of a “moral acceptability” survey charting changes in national attitude across all age groups, from 2001 to 2015. Approval of gay relationships jumped from 40 to 63 per cent; having a baby out of wedlock from 45 to 61 per cent; sex between unmarried men and women from 53 to 68 per cent; doctor-assisted suicide from 49 to 56 per cent; even polygamy went from 7 to 16 per cent. Abortion remained narrowly disapproved of: support for access has only crept up from 42 to 45 per cent. This is probably a result of an unusual concentration of political and religious opposition and because it involves a potential life-or-death decision. But the general trend is that young people just don’t care as much about what consenting adults get up to.

Why? It might be because old forms of identity are dying. One way of measuring that is religious affiliation. From 2007 to 2014, according to Pew Research, the proportion of Americans describing themselves as Christian fell from 78 to 71 per cent. Today, only a quarter of the population is evangelical and 21 per cent Catholic, down despite high immigration. Then there is the decline in civic or communal activity. Since 2012, the organisers of Nascar, the stock-car races, have not published attendance figures at their tracks, probably because they have fallen so sharply. The decline of this most macho and working class of sports parallels the fall in conservative forms of collective identity such as southern traditionalism.

The old culture war was, like the racial politics of the old South, binary. In the 1950s, around the same time as the South invented its tradition of flying the battle flag in colleges, the US constructed an ideal of the “normal” nuclear family unit: straight, white, patriarchal, religious. On the other side was the “abnormal”: gay, black, feminist, atheist, and the rest. The surest way to get elected in the US between 1952 and 2004 was to associate yourself with the economic needs and cultural prejudices of the majority. The approach was once summed up by a Richard Nixon strategist thus: split the country in two and the Republicans will take the larger half. But that is changing. The old normal is no longer the cultural standard but just one of many identities to choose from. The races are mixing. Women want to work more and have children later in life, possibly without marriage. Many religious people are having to rethink their theology when a child comes out as gay. And the enforcers of the old ways – the unions, churches or political parties – are far less attractive than the atomising internet.

***

Politicians are scrabbling to keep up with the diffusion of American identity. Democrats got lucky when they nominated Barack Obama and chose a presidential candidate who reflected the fractured era well: interracial, non-denominational Christian, and so on. In the 2012 presidential race the Republicans got burned when they tried to play the old culture war card on abortion. They won’t repeat that mistake. After the Supreme Court legalised gay marriage across the country in June, the right’s response was not as uniformly loud and outraged as it would have been in the past. Some protested, but serious presidential contenders such as Jeb Bush grasped the implications of the defeat. There is a cultural and political realignment going on and no one is sure where it will lead. It’s encouraging caution among the Republican top brass. It is time, they think, to abandon lost causes.

The death of southern traditionalism is part of the ebb and flow of cultural history. Identities flourish and die. As political fashions change, you find the typically American mix of triumph on one side and jeremiad on the other. Richard Hines stood vigil as the battle flag was lowered in Columbia and noted with disgust the presence of what he described as “bussed-in” activists. “They pulled out all these gay pride flags and started shouting, ‘USA, USA, USA!’ It reminded me of the Bolshevik Revolution.”

Hines reckons that more southerners will now fly the flag than ever before and says he has attended overflow rallies of ordinary folks who love their region. He may well be correct. The faithful will keep the old Confederate standard fluttering on their lawns – an act of secession from the 21st century. But in the public domain, the battle flag is on its way down and in its place will be raised the standard of the new America. The rainbow flag flutters high. For now.

Tim Stanley is a historian and a columnist for the Telegraph

This article first appeared in the 20 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Corbyn wars