Sol Campbell in action for England during Euro 2008. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Sol Campbell is wrong - for most England fans, race is irrelevant

When it comes to choosing an England captain, fans are more likely to have a biased opinion based on club colours than skin colour.

The former England footballer Sol Campbell believes he was prevented from captaining his country more often because of the colour of his skin. He told the Sunday Times: “I don’t fit the FA’s image of an England captain. I’d done enough to be captain. I’ve asked myself many times why I wasn’t. I keep coming up with the same answer. It was the colour of my skin”. Campbell argues that both the FA and most England fans prefer the captain of the national side to be white. “I don’t think it will change because they don’t want it to, and probably the majority of fans don’t want it, either. It’s all right to have black captains and mixed-race in the under-18s and under-21s but not for the full side. There is a ceiling and although no one has ever said it, I believe it’s made of glass.”

Campbell’s views reflect the amount of prejudice and abuse that he has faced in his career. Though he is straight, the player faced significant amounts of homophobic abuse, which the game was much slower to crack down on than racist monkey chants. The arguments about who should have been England captain when in the late 1990s are inevitably subjective. But there is little evidence of an FA “glass ceiling”. After all, Campbell was himself selected to be captain of the full side, and at a younger age than any England captain, except Bobby Moore. Paul Ince and Rio Ferdinand were also England captains in this era, with little public discussion or controversy of this. The Sunday Times’s front-page story reported that he captained England on only that occasion, though Campbell captained England three times in his 70 appearances, as was corrected in the final editions. By chance, Sir Bobby Charlton was also captain three times in his 106 games, which shows that any England team will usually contain many potential leaders. Campbell’s experience probably had more to do with the choices of England managers than with an FA policy. He was asked to captain the side twice, when very young, by Glenn Hoddle in 1998. But Hoddle was forced to resign early the next year and his successors chose other players.

Whatever the merits of the choices that England managers, or the FA made, Campbell is on weakest ground in suggesting that most England fans would prefer a white captain to a black captain. This seems extremely unlikely. The vast majority of England fans see nothing remarkable in our multi-ethnic football team or its leadership. The question of whether you could be black and equally English was a publicly contested issue in the late 1970s and into the 1980s. When Viv Anderson first put on the England shirt as a full international in 1978, and Paul Ince first captained the team in 1993, it was worth marking the breaking of a glass ceiling. The racists were probably in a minority even in the 1980s. The problem was that a vocal National Front-associated group of extremists dominated the England travelling support, to the extent that they put everybody else off. When John Barnes scored that crazy, mazy goal in Brazil’s Maracanã stadium in 1984 to put England two-nil up, the NF contingent in the stadium chanted one-nil. But the nation watching at home knew the real score – and celebrated the goal.

By the time that Campbell or Ferdinand were leading England out, the idea of a non-white captain went unremarked – because it had become enough of a norm for us to barely notice. We don’t discriminate over the race of our sporting heroes. At the last Olympics, three-quarters of people rejected the notion that we should cheer more loudly for British-born Team GB athletes to those who had come to this country to wear our flag. At least that proportion would find the idea of a race bar on picking the England captain bizarre. This goes for Englishness outside the stadium too. Sometimes liberals wonder and worry about whether English remains a racially exclusive category, even though British identity is more inclusive. But this is an idea that most people in England reject. There is still a sizeable minority – of one in five - who say it is very (12 per cent) or fairly (10 per cent) important to be white to be English. But most say it does not matter at all, as YouGov polling for British Future has shown. France did have a rather tortuous and embarrassing debate about whether the Republic of equality and fraternity should have a policy to make sure there weren’t too many black players in the national team. Such a conversation would struggle to get off the ground in England today and would be laughed out of court in the post-match phone-ins. Most England fans will want the team, and the captain, chosen on merit. Football being a matter of opinion, of course fans will argue about who the best captain should be. When it comes to choosing an England captain, most of us are now rather more likely to have a biased opinion based on club colours – who plays for the teams we support, or that we love to loathe – than skin colour.

Sunder Katwala is director of British Future and former general secretary of the Fabian Society.

Cameron in Nuneaton. Photo: Getty
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Why fewer of us want a long-term relationship ... with a political party

In 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010. So what does the rise of swing voters mean for British politics?

For decades political parties have competed furiously for one of the great prizes of British politics: the affections of the swing voter. It wasn’t that long ago that there were relatively few political swingers: until the 1990s, fewer than a quarter of voters would switch parties from one election to the next.

Yet that once relatively rare breed is becoming increasingly common, which means party campaigners are going to have to come up with new tactical thinking. The British Election Study survey panels, conducted episodically over the last fifty years, are unique in that they are able to track the same voters from one election to the next, unlike more conventional opinion polls that only look at a snapshot of voters at a given time. Using these studies, you can identify the percentage of voters who switch their vote from one party to another between each pair of elections since 1966 when such data was first collected.

In 1966 only around 13 per cent of voters had changed their minds since the previous election in 1964. Since then, the proportion of swingers has been steadily increasing, and by 2015, 38 per cent of voters backed a different party to the one they supported in 2010.

The increase in swing voters is pretty consistent. The only exceptions are between February and October 1974, when (understandably) fewer voters changed their minds in eight months than switched in the preceding four years, and between 1997 and 2001, when the electoral dominance of New Labour under Tony Blair held back the tide for a time. These two exceptions aside, the increase has been constant election-on-election.

A lot of vote shifting can go on even between elections where the overall result remains stable. In 2001, for example, more people switched votes than in any election before 1997, with a surprising level of turmoil beneath the surface stability. While these largely cancelled out on that occasion, it set the stage for more dramatic changes in the parties’ votes later on.

So British voters now seem more likely than ever to jump from party to party. But who exactly are these swingers? Are they disillusioned former party loyalists? Or have British voters simply stopped getting into a serious relationship with the parties in the first place? We can get some insight into this using data from the yearly British Social Attitudes Survey, looking at the number of respondents who say that they do not identify with any of the political parties (party identifiers tend to switch much less often) when they are asked ‘Generally speaking, do you think of yourself as a supporter of any one political party?’ and then ‘Do you think of yourself as a little closer to one political party than to the others?’ if they say no to the first question. The graph below combines data from 1984 to 2013. Each line represents people who were born in a different year. Higher lines mean that there are more people who do not identify with a political party. So, for instance, voters born in 1955 started with very low levels of non-identification (22 per cent), which have gradually risen to 44 per cent in the latest survey. Most of the lines on the graph go up over time, which shows that almost all generations are falling out of love with the parties.

However, an acquired taste in swinging among the older generations is dwarfed by the promiscuous younger generations – shown by the dashed lines – most of whom never form an attachment to a party at all. Each generation in the data has been less committed to the parties than the previous generation was at the same age, with around 60 per cent of the youngest generation – those born since 1985 – expressing no attachment to any political party.

Since most of this change has been a generational shift, it may be a long road back for the parties. Loyalty to parties is often handed down in families, with children inheriting their parents’ commitment to a party. Now that this process has broken down, and younger generations have lost their attachment to parties, they may in turn pass on this political detachment to their children.

The majority of younger voters have simply never grown up with the idea of getting into a long-term relationship with a political party, so they may never settle down. Many Labour MPs were outraged when it turned out that lots of the new members who joined up to vote for Jeremy Corbyn had voted for the Green Party just a few months before, but this may simply reflect the political approach of a generation who see parties as needing to earn their vote each time rather than commanding lasting, even unconditional loyalty.

If Britain’s newfound taste for swinging isn’t going to disappear any time soon, what does it mean for party competition? In the past most people had settled partisan views, which seldom changed. General elections could be won by attracting the relatively small group of voters who hadn’t made up their minds and could very easily vote for either of the two main parties, so political parties based their strategies around mobilising their core voters and targeting the few waverers. While they worried about traditional loyalists not turning up to the polls, the parties could be assured of their supporters’ votes as long as they got them to the voting booth.

Nowadays, swing voters are no longer a small section of the electorate who are being pulled back and forth by the parties, but a substantial chunk of all voters. This helps to explain why politicians have been so surprised by the sudden rise of new parties competing for groups previously thought to be reliable supporters. The new parties that have entered British politics have also allowed voters to express their views on issues that don’t fall neatly into traditional left– right politics such as immigration (UKIP) or Scottish independence (the SNP). This in turn has posed a dilemma for the traditional parties, who are pulled in multiple directions trying to stop their voters being tempted away.

This may just be the start. If the number of swing voters stays this high, the parties will have to get used to defending themselves on multiple fronts.

This is an extract from More Sex, Lies and the Ballot Box, edited by Philip Cowley and Robert Ford.