Work isn't working

Families and firms are at war. It will only be won when parents - fathers as well as mothers - can c

The Sex War is over. Girls outperform boys at school and are streaming through higher edu cation. Young women are now taking home the same size wage packets as young men. But the celebrations have to wait. A new, tougher battle has to be fought. It is not a duel between men and women, but between families and firms. This family war will be won only when parents - fathers as well as mothers - can care for their children without dumbing down their careers.

Women now compete with men on a virtually equal footing in both business and politics - but only until the precise moment they become mothers. It is not a question of old-fashioned notions about their capabilities. "Women don't lose out because of outdated views about them as women," says Mary Gregory, an economics lecturer at Oxford University and expert on gender and work. "They lose out because they make different choices about work when they have children." It is not possession of a womb that now holds women back, but its use.

This is fertile political ground, and the Conservatives are beginning to move on to it. David Cameron has proposed that maternity leave should be made transferable, allowing mums and dads to tag-team the childcare, or even take time off together. It is a modest proposal, not least because fathers will only be paid £112 a week (the current statutory maternity pay rate). Labour's John Hutton retorted that few families would be able to afford to make use of such a right. This is true: but why deny those people the possibility?

It is lack of choice that is now the issue. Legislation aimed at tackling direct discrimination, most importantly the Equal Pay Act, has helped to bring about a sea change in employer attitudes and pay scales. Barbara Castle, author and advocate of the Equal Pay Act, must sit beside Keir Hardie, Clement Attlee and Nye Bevan in the Labour pantheon. The latest research from the TUC shows that the gap between the full-time earnings of men and women in their twenties is only 3 per cent. Even this small gap is explained entirely by the very large salaries of a handful of men at the top of the income distribution, which pull up the male average, and the unwillingness of women to pitch for more money. As Gregory suggests, "Women don't ask."

But the good news comes to an end at 30, the age at which the typical married woman has her first child. Children strike women's careers like a meteorite, while glancing almost imperceptibly off fathers' working lives. The pay gap for thirtysomethings is 11 per cent; women in their forties earn 23 per cent less. The picture gets even worse when part-timers are brought into the picture. Female part-timers in their thirties and forties earn only two-thirds as much an hour as male full-timers of the same age. It is motherhood, rather than misogyny, that explains the pay gap. As Gillian Paull from the Institute for Fiscal Studies writes in the latest issue of the Economic Journal: "The 'family gap' in employment and wages - that is, the differences in work behaviour between women without children and mothers - may be more important than the gender gap alone." Meanwhile, men's working hours go up slightly when they become fathers: and dads do better in terms of wages than childless men.

Direct discrimination is no longer the prin cipal enemy. Three structural problems explain the pay gap. First, women and men work in different occupations, with women clustered in less well-paid sectors such as teaching, retail and health care. This occupational segregation has hardly diminished over the past few decades. Second, the significant increase in general wage inequality has had the unfortunate side effect of making the gap between men and women bigger. Third, the penalty paid by women for working part-time after having children has become much more severe, as a high proportion slide down the occupational ladder in what the erstwhile Equal Opportunities Commission termed a "hidden brain drain".

Campaigners for gender equality hope that the Single Equality Act, scheduled for inclusion in this year's Queen's Speech, will force companies to conduct equal-pay audits. It is in fact a forlorn hope, but they should not be too disappointed. As Barbara Petrongolo, a labour specialist at the LSE, says: "Equal treatment policies like equality audits will not have much bite. The problem is not that employers are paying women less for doing the same jobs as men - it is that women are doing different jobs after having children."

Occupational downgrading

A slew of recent studies has dissected the complex data on motherhood and part-time employment. The conclusions highlight the real problems facing British families, and the failure of the labour market to deliver real choice. Most mothers work part-time for some years in order to balance raising their children with staying in the labour market: only a third of mothers with pre-school-age children are in full-time work. A substantial minority - around a quarter - of these end up in a lower-status job: managers become clerical workers. Some professions, such as nursing and teaching, offer most women the chance to go part-time without loss of status or hourly pay. And those women who stay with their current employer are less likely to suffer "occupational downgrading". As Gregory and her co-author Sara Connolly lament: "This loss of career status with part-time work is a stark failure among otherwise encouraging trends for women's advancement."

It is important to be clear what the problem is. Is it bad news that women want to spend time with their children? Surely not, given the evidence for the importance of parental engagement in the early years of a child's life. Are these women "forced" into part-time work, and now just grinning and bearing it? No - the overwhelming majority say they positively chose part-time work, and their job satisfaction is higher than that of mothers working full-time. Most men and women, according to the British Social Attitudes Survey, think that a conventional division of labour is the right one, with mothers taking on the bulk of responsibility for childcare.

We may wish to change these attitudes, but equally we must respect them. The TUC, for example, struggles to take women's choices at face value, declaring: "Women take on a disproportionate share of caring responsibilities due to unequal pay and limited opportunities within the workplace." This presupposes a level of responsiveness to economic incentives that would make Milton Friedman proud. Like it or not, women are doing most of the caring because they see it as part of their role in life. Groundbreaking work by the American economists Rachel Kranton and George Akerlof suggests that being a mother is part of women's identity, and that this explains their otherwise irrational labour-market decisions.

Perhaps the problem is an economic one - the loss of productivity as a result of the underuse of women's skills? This is the argument adopted by many who are urging more government action, but it is a fragile one. The latest TUC report, Closing the Gender Pay Gap, estimates that £11bn a year is being lost. The Women and Work Commission puts the figure at between £15bn and £23bn. A strange, unholy alliance has in fact developed between old-fashioned feminists, who insist women ought to work full-time to gain economic parity with men, and Treasury economists, who worry about the apparently "irrational" squandering of "human capital" by educated women. The principal difference between these allies is that the feminists want to spend billions of pounds of public money on childcare to allow more women to work full-time - the "Swedish option", at which the mandarins generally baulk.

There are, however, grave dangers in relying on economic arguments. For a start, such estimates are notoriously difficult to generate and are open to subjective manipulation (another recent study even found that £5bn is lost each year as a result of bosses' failure to say "thank you" to their staff, which suggests there are easier ways to boost productivity). And even if there really is an economic cost, there may well be a counterbalancing social gain in better-quality family life and happier children.

"Cost" of legislation

Overall, welfare might be greater even if our GDP - the size of which is a source of constant anxiety to male politicians - is somewhat smaller. Employers and their representative bodies are also just as adept at producing studies showing the apparent "cost" of any legislation to help working families - whether it is to introduce a minimum wage, equal pay, better maternity leave or better rights for temporary staff. Equality then becomes a battle of numbers, each side wielding its own semi-fictional cost-benefit analysis. Once we start putting a price tag on equality, we have lost sight of its value.

The problem is not a dent in economic output. The problem is not that mothers reject a life as what the sociologist Heather Hopfl has called that of a "quasi-man". The problem is lack of choice, for women and men alike. Millions of women do not have the option of reducing their hours as well as maintaining their status. And very few men have the option of sharing the childcare responsibilities with their partner. Liberal societies should aim to offer individuals the maximum range of options from which to construct their version of a good life.

"The heart of the choice issue is limited opportunities for women to work part-time in high-quality jobs," says Petrongolo. Gregory agrees: "The crunch question is this - can part-time women continue at the same level?" The one area of dissatisfaction expressed by women working part-time is with their wages. That is not surprising.

Employers are reluctant to retain or hire senior part-timers. While 60 per cent of employers say they would allow a woman returning from maternity leave to switch to part-time status, of these only two-thirds would allow her to remain at the same level of seniority. So, less than half would permit a reduction in hours without loss of status. This may not just be the result of Jurassic attitudes, as Gregory admits: "We can't assume that employers are simply stupid." Assuming it costs as much to hire and train part-timers as full-timers, they will offer a lower return on investment. There may also be co-ordination costs, especially associated with part-time or job-sharing managers. But it is hard to know the true height of these barriers.

Since 2003, employees have had a "right to request" flexible working while firms have had a corresponding duty to take such requests seriously. Some one-off surveys suggest that since the law came into force, one in seven women have made a request, and that most have been accepted. But the Labour Force Survey - the main data source on workplace trends - shows no increase in levels of part-time work over the same period. This puzzles economists. The most likely explanation is that a similar number of requests was being made and granted even before the legislation, and that the law has made little difference. It also looks as if women are asking for part-time work in the sectors where they are most likely to be granted, such as nursing, rather than in the senior and professional jobs where the real problem lies.

Part-timer fathers

It is clear that British families do not want to outsource the raising of their children to others, and prefer to combine paid work and care. At the moment, this means mums, but in the future it could mean dads, too. The model we should be emulating is Holland, where workers have the right to convert a full-time job to a part-time one unless the employer can produce convincing evidence for damage to the firm. "We need to shift the burden of proof from the employee to the employer," insists Gregory. We need to go Dutch, and remove the words "to request" from the right to request flexible working.

It is possible that without the risk of occupational downsliding, more men may also choose to work part-time; but it is also necessary to give men the same freedom as women to take time off for childcare as women. Cameron's idea of transferability is a step in the right direction: it is high time the government stopped deciding for us which parent should raise our children.

Markets are usually good at offering choice, but at present the labour market is failing the family. Companies are not generally acting on the basis of a rigorous business case against senior part-timers. They are exhibiting what psychologists call "path dependency": doing what they do because that's what they've always done. A decisive legislative strike on the Dutch model could jolt them on to a fairer path. Rather than aiming at creating economy-friendly families, it is time to shape a family-friendly economy.

This is the kind of package Labour MPs used to advocate. Indeed, the Commission on Social Justice - under the influence of its deputy chair Patricia Hewitt - proposed just such a move back in 1994. But, in a battle between families and firms, Labour now leans towards the latter. Gordon Brown loves to praise "hard-working families". What families need now is for him to work harder for them.

Working parenthood: by numbers

1/3 of mothers, and one-fifth of fathers, use some form of flexible working pattern

£7,000 average cost of taking a full 12 months off work after the birth of a child

83% proportion of women who want to return to work after having children

1 in 3 proportion of female corporate managers who lose status after having children

94% of all new fathers take some time off after the birth to care for their children

90% of mothers take at least six months' leave

39 number of weeks women are entitled to statutory maternity pay at 90% or less of weekly earnings

2 number of weeks men are entitled to paternity leave (pay negotiable)

Research: Simon Rudd

This article first appeared in the 24 March 2008 issue of the New Statesman, The truth about Tibet

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The English Revolt

Brexit, Euroscepticism and the future of the United Kingdom.

English voters have led – some would say forced – the United Kingdom towards exit from the European Union. Was this an English revolt, the result of an ­upsurge over decades of a more assertive, perhaps resentful, sense of English identity? At one level, clearly so. Surveys indicate that individuals who most often describe themselves as “English”, and regions where this is common, were more inclined to vote Leave on 23 June. Some of these are poorer regions where marginalised people think that their voices are more likely to be heard in a national democracy than in an international trading bloc, and for whom patriotism is a source of self-respect. But it would only make sense to regard Leave as essentially an English reaction if discontent with the EU were confined to England, or specifically linked with feelings of Englishness.

In fact, negative opinions about the EU, and especially about its economic policy, are now more widespread in other countries than they are in England. Polls by the Pew Research Centre last month showed that disapproval of the EU was as high in Germany and the Netherlands as in Britain, and higher in France, Greece and Spain. Though aggravated by the 2007-2008 crash and enforced policies of austerity, a decline in support was clear earlier. France’s referendum of May 2005 gave a 55 per cent No to the proposed EU constitution after thorough debate, and a now familiar pattern emerged: enthusiastic Europeanism was confined to the wealthiest suburbs and quarters of Paris, and the only professional groups that strongly voted Yes were big business, the liberal professions and academics.

Going far beyond the atavistic and incoherent English revolt that some think they discern, our referendum result is partly a consequence of transnational political phenomena across the democratic world: the disaffection of citizens from conventional politics, shown by falling turnouts for elections, shrinking party membership and the rise of new, sometimes extreme political movements; as well as the simultaneous detachment of a professional political class from civil society, and its consequent retreat into a closed world of institutions.

The EU embodies these phenomena in uniquely acute form. In several cases its central bodies have opposed – or, if one prefers, have been forced to deny – democratically expressed wishes. In Greece and Italy, the EU has enforced changes of government and policy, and in Denmark, Ireland and the Netherlands it has pressed countries to ignore or reverse popular referendums. Its own representative body, the European Parliament, has gained neither power nor legitimacy. Crucial decisions are taken in secret, making the EU a hiding place for beleaguered politicians as well as a source of lavish financial reward for insiders. In the words of the historian John Gillingham, Europe is now being governed by neither its peoples nor its ideals, but by a bank board. This is not the “superstate” of Eurosceptic mythology. Though it drains power and legitimacy away from national governments, it is incapable of exercising power effectively itself, whether to cope with short-term emergencies such as an inflow of refugees, or to solve chronic failings such as the creation of mass unemployment in southern Europe. The result is paralysis, the inability either to extricate itself from failing institutions or to make them work.

If popular discontent with the EU continues to increase (and it is hard to see how it could not) sooner or later there will be some unmanageable political or social crisis. The response of too many supporters of the EU is to screw the lid down tighter, including now by promising to make life difficult for the United Kingdom, pour décourager les autres. This is the organisation – unpopular, unaccountable, secretive, often corrupt, and economically failing – from which our decision to depart apparently causes people to weep in the streets.

***

Why this decision? Why in Britain? The simplest and perhaps the best answer is that we have had a referendum. If France, Greece, Italy and some other countries had been given the same choice, they might well have made the same decision. But of course they have not been and will not be given such a choice, barring severe political crisis. This is most obviously because countries that have adopted the euro – even those such as Greece, for which the IMF has predicted high unemployment at least until the 2040s – have no clear way out.

I make this obvious point to emphasise that the immediate explanation of what has happened lies not only and not mainly in different feelings about the EU in Britain, but in different political opportunities and levels of fear. The contrasting votes in Scotland and Northern Ireland have particular explanations. Scottish nationalists – like their counterparts in Catalonia – see the EU as an indispensable support for independence. Northern Ireland sees the matter primarily as one affecting its own, still tense domestic politics and its relations with the Republic. In a European perspective, Scotland and Northern Ireland are the outliers, not England and Wales. Indeed, Scotland’s vote makes it stand out as one of the most pro-EU countries in Europe. If ever there is another referendum to see whether Scots prefer the EU to the UK, it will show whether this level of support for the EU is solid.

If England is exceptional, it is not in its disaffection from the EU, nor in the political divisions the referendum vote has exposed (if France, for instance, had such a vote, one could expect blood in the streets). Rather, its exceptional characteristic is its long-standing and settled scepticism about the European project in principle, greater than in any other EU country. Every ­member has a specific history that shapes its attitude to the theoretical idea of European integration. As John Gillingham, one of the most perceptive historians of the EU, describes its beginnings: “to the French [supranationalism was] a flag of convenience, to the Italians it was preferable (by definition) to government by Rome, to the Germans a welcome escape route, and to the Benelux nations a better choice than being dominated by powerful neighbours”.

Subsequently, for the eastern European states, it was a decisive step away from communist dictatorship, and for southern Europe a line drawn under a traumatic history of civil conflict. There is also a widespread belief, powerful though fanciful, that the EU prevents war between the European states. All these are important reasons why there remains considerable support for unification as an aspiration. But all these reasons are weaker, and some of them non-existent, in Britain, and especially in England. The simple reason for this is that Britain’s experience of the 20th century was far less traumatic. Moreover, during that time loyalty to the nation was not tarnished with fascism, but was rather the buttress of freedom and democracy. Conversely, the vision of a European “superstate” is seen less as a guarantee of peace and freedom, and rather as the latest in a five-century succession of would-be continental hegemons.

Given all this, an obvious question is why the United Kingdom ever joined in the European project in the first place. The answer helps to explain the country’s subsequent lack of enthusiasm. Its first response to the creation of the European Economic Community in 1957 was not to join, but to agree to establish a separate European Free Trade Association (Efta) in 1959 with Austria, Denmark, Norway, Portugal, Sweden and Switzerland; over the next three decades the seven founder members were joined by Finland, Iceland and Liechtenstein. This worked efficiently, cheaply and amicably, and, in time, Efta and the EEC would doubtless have created trading arrangements and systems of co-operation. But then the historic mistake was made. Efta was considered too small to provide the diplomatic clout craved by Whitehall at a time of severe post-imperial jitters. A cabinet committee warned in 1960 that “if we try to remain aloof from [the EEC] – bearing in mind that this will be happening simultaneously with the contraction of our overseas possessions – we shall run the risk of losing political influence and of ceasing to be able to exercise any real claim to be a world Power”.

Besides, Washington disliked Efta as a barrier to its aim of a federal Europe, and the Americans put heavy pressure on London to apply to accede to the Treaty of Rome, which it duly did in August 1961. “It is only full membership, with the possibility of controlling and dominating Europe,” wrote an optimistic British cabinet official, “that is really attractive.”

As the former US secretary of state Dean Acheson (one of the early backers of European integration) put it, in a now celebrated comment in December 1962: “Great Britain has lost an empire, and has not yet found a role. The attempt to play a separate power role . . . apart from Europe . . . based on a ‘special relationship’ with the United States [or] on being the head of a ‘Commonwealth’ . . . – this role is about played out.”

Acheson’s words long haunted British policymakers; perhaps they still do. And yet Britain remains one of the half-dozen strongest and most assertive states anywhere in the world, just as it has been for the past three centuries.

To fear of diplomatic marginalisation was added fear of economic decline. A government report in 1953 warned of “relegation of the UK to the second division”. Over the next 30 years there was a chorus of dismay about “the sick man of Europe”. Belief that EEC membership at any price was the only cure for Britain’s perceived economic ills became the orthodoxy in official circles: Britain was “the sinking Titanic”, and “Europe” the lifeboat.

So, on 1 January 1973 Britain formally entered the EEC with Denmark and Ireland. Other Efta members remained outside the Community – Switzerland and Norway for good. Harold Wilson’s 1975 referendum on whether to stay in the EEC in effect turned on Europe’s superior economic performance – which, though no one realised it at the time, had just ended.

This memory of apparent British economic weakness half a century ago still seems to weigh with older Remainers. Yet it was based on a fundamental misconception: that European growth rates were permanently higher than in a supposedly outdated and declining Britain. In reality, faster growth on the mainland in the 1950s and 1960s was due to one-off structural modernisation: the large agricultural workforce shifted into more productive industrial employment. From the mid-1940s to the early 1970s this gave several European countries “windfall growth” at a higher rate than was possible in Britain, which since the 19th century had had no large agricultural sector to convert. By the early 1970s, once that catching up was finished, European growth rates became the same as, or slightly lower than, Britain’s. When measured over the whole half-century from 1950 to 2000, Britain’s economic performance was no different from the ­European norm. By the mid-1980s, growth was faster than in France and Germany, and today Britain’s economic fundamentals remain strong.

Slower European growth lessened the perceived attractiveness of EU integration. In 1992, on Black Wednesday (16 September), hesitant participation in the European Exchange Rate Mechanism led to forced devaluations in Finland, Sweden, Italy, Spain and, finally, Britain. This was a huge political shock, though an economic boost.

Black Wednesday subsequently made it politically difficult for Britain to join the eurozone – allowing us a narrow escape, attributable more to circumstance than to policy, as vocal political and economic lobbies urged joining.

Moreover, Britain’s trade with the rest of the EU was declining as a proportion of its global activity: as Gordon Brown observed in 2005, 80 per cent of the UK’s potential trade lay outside the EU. The EU’s single market proved not very effective at increasing trade between its members even before the crash of 2007-2008, and prolonged austerity thereafter made it stagnant. Consequently, in the 2016 referendum campaign, more emphasis was placed on the dangers of leaving the single market than on the precise benefits of being in it.

But the days when Britain seemed the Titanic and Europe the lifeboat were long gone. On the contrary, Britain, with its fluid and largely unregulated labour market, had become the employer of last resort for the depressed countries of the eurozone. The sustained importation of workers since the 1990s had become, for a large part of Britain’s working class, the thing that most obviously outweighed whatever legal or economic advantages the EU might theoretically offer.

***

What galvanised the vote for Brexit, I think, was a core attachment to national democracy: the only sort of democracy that exists in Europe. That is what “getting our country back” essentially means. Granted, the slogan covers a multitude of concerns and wishes, some of them irreconcilable; but that is what pluralist democracy involves. Britain has long been the country most ­resistant to ceding greater powers to the EU: opinion polls in the lead-up to the referendum showed that only 6 per cent of people in the UK (compared to 34 per cent in France, for instance, and 26 per cent in Germany) favoured increased centralisation – a measure of the feebleness of Euro-federalism in Britain.

In contrast, two-thirds wanted powers returned from the EU to the British government, with a majority even among the relatively Europhile young. This suggests a much greater opposition to EU centralisation than shown by the 52 per cent vote for Brexit. The difference may be accounted for by the huge pressure put on the electorate during the campaign. Indeed, arithmetic suggests that half even of Remain voters oppose greater powers being given to the EU. Yet its supporters regard an increase of EU control over economic and financial decisions – the basics of politics – as indispensable if the EU is to survive, because of the strains inherent in the eurozone system. This stark contradiction between the decentralisation that many of the peoples of Europe – and above all the British – want to see and the greater centralisation that the EU as an institution needs is wilfully ignored by Remain supporters. Those who deplore the British electorate’s excessive attachment to self-government as some sort of impertinence should be clear (not least with themselves) about whether they believe that the age of democracy in Europe is over, and that great decisions should be left to professional politicians, bureaucracies and large corporations.

Some have dismissed the Leave vote as an incoherent and anarchic protest against “the establishment”, or as a xenophobic reaction against immigrants. Some of the media in Britain and abroad have been doing their best to propagate this view. Yet xenophobia has not been a significant feature of British politics since the 1960s, and certainly far less so than in many obedient EU member states, including France, Germany, Greece and the Netherlands. As for the anti-establishment “revolt”, this emerged when parts of the establishment began to put organised pressure on the electorate to vote Remain. Would-be opinion-formers have hardly covered themselves in glory in recent weeks. They have been out of touch and out of sympathy with opinion in the country, unwilling or unable to engage in reasoned debate, and resorting to collective proclamations of institutional authority which proved embarrassingly ineffective.

Worst of all, their main argument – whether they were artists, actors, film-makers, university vice-chancellors or prestigious learned societies – was one of unabashed self interest: the EU is our milch-cow, and hence you must feed it. This was a lamentable trahison des clercs. The reaction to the referendum result by some Remain partisans has been a monumental fit of pique that includes talking up economic crisis (which, as Keynes showed, is often self-fulfilling) and smearing 17 million Leave voters as xenophobes. This is both irresponsible and futile, and paves the way to political marginalisation.

The Queen’s call for “deeper, cooler consideration” is much needed. I recall Victor Hugo’s crushing invective against French elitists who rejected the verdict of democracy, when in 1850 he scorned “your ignorance of the country today, the antipathy that you feel for it and that it feels for you”.

This antipathy has reduced English politics to a temporary shambles. It is too early to say whether there will be some realignment of the fragments: One-Nation Toryism, Conservative neoliberalism, “new” and “old” Labour, the hibernating Liberal Democrats and Greens, the various nationalists and, of course, the unpredictable Ukip. When in the past there were similar crises – such as Labour’s rift over the national government in 1931, the Liberals’ split over Irish home rule in 1886, or the Tory fragmentation over the repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846 – the political balance was permanently changed.

***

Many Europeans fear that a breakdown of the EU could slide into a return to the horrors of the mid-20th century. Most people in Britain do not. The fundamental feature of the referendum campaign was that the majority was not frightened out of voting for Leave, either by political or by economic warnings. This is testimony to a significant change since the last referendum in 1975: most people no longer see Britain as a declining country dependent on the EU.

A Eurobarometer poll in 2013 showed that Britain was the only EU member state in which most citizens felt that they could face the future better outside the Union. Last month’s referendum reflected this view, which was not reversed by reiterated predictions of doom.

In retrospect, joining the Common Market in 1973 has proved an immense historic error. It is surely evident that we would not have been applying to join the EU in 2016 had we, like Norway or Switzerland, remained outside it. Yet the political and possibly economic costs of leaving it now are considerable. Even though discontent with the EU across much of Europe has recently overtaken sentiment in Britain, Britain is unique, in that, ever since the 1970s, its public has been consistently far less ­favourable to the idea of European integration than the electorate in any other country. Hence the various “opt-outs” and the critically important decision to remain outside the euro.

Now, by a great historic irony, we are heading towards the sort of associate status with the EU that we had in the late 1960s as the leading member of Efta, and which we could have kept. Instead, this country was led by its political elite, for reasons of prestige and because of exaggerated fears of national decline and marginalisation, into a vain attempt to be “at the heart of Europe”. It has been a dangerous illusion, born of the postwar declinist obsession, that Britain must “punch above its weight” both by following in the footsteps of the United States and by attaching itself to the EU.

For some, money, blood and control over our own policy were sacrifices worth making for a “seat at the top table”. This dual strategy has collapsed. In future we shall have to decide what is the appropriate and desirable role for Britain to play in the world, and we shall have to decide it for ourselves.

Robert Tombs is Professor of French History at Cambridge University. His most recent book is “The English and Their History” (Penguin)

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt