Britain: our divided nation

The income gap between rich and poor goes on getting bigger, yet we seem remarkably unconcerned

Income inequality is at a historic high in Britain, but according to new research from the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, the public is becoming pessimistic about the possibility of changing this. In a report last month on British attitudes to inequality, the social policy research charity found that although a large and enduring majority of people think the income gap between rich and poor is too large, there is little understanding about the extent of inequality in Britain and a poor grasp of how wide the gap has become in recent years.

People still express concern about unequal distribution of wealth, but are clear that they don't want to pay higher taxes. Many consider today's income inequalities unfair but equally they firmly believe that people get what they deserve. Most significantly, among complex and, the report's authors admit, contradictory results, they found a strong pessimism that poverty would fall within the next ten years.

The extent to which inequality has increased has been well documented in recent years. An Institute for Public Policy Research report in May showed that the proportion of wealth held by Britain's richest 10 per cent rose from 47 per cent in the 1990s to 54 per cent in 2004. And another report, from the Rowntree Foundation in July, noted that over the past 15 years, more households had fallen below the poverty line. In 2001, one in four households was classed as "breadline poor".

But though a large majority of Britons still find the growing income gap unacceptable, we appear less certain now than before Labour came to power in 1997. Back in 1993, 87 per cent agreed that the income gap was too large. In 2004, only 73 per cent found the (even greater) gap unacceptable.

More worrying for policymakers who believe in increasing equality as a social goal is that the public appears confused and ignorant about the extent of the problem. The Rowntree Foundation describes the general knowledge of actual distribution of wealth as "limited".

"The gap between high- and low-paid occupations is far greater than people think it should be, or would consider appropriate," the authors write. For example, asked what they think a chairman of a large national corporation earns, most would say about £125,000. A more appropriate salary, they believe, would be about £75,000. In fact, at the time of the research (2004), the real average salary of a chairman of large national corporation was £555,000. Similarly, those questioned thought an Appeal Court judge would be overpaid at £80,000 and should earn £50,000; the actual salary then was £139,900. Despite the old Tory gibe of "the politics of envy", the public tends to estimate the pay gap rather benignly. The Rowntree Foundation's respondents believed that the income of a company chairman was 12.5 times higher than that of an unskilled worker. In fact, it was more than 40 times higher.

Nor does the public hold particularly trenchant or united views on how to deal with huge pay discrepancies. Support for wealth redistribution increased between 1985 and 1995 - two years before Labour came to power - but then declined substantially from 44 per cent in 1996 to 32 per cent in 2004.

Karen Rowlingson, professor of social policy at the Uni versity of Birmingham and co-author of the Rowntree Foundation report, told the New Statesman that this may be connected to values in the UK. "These are a bit of a mix between Europe and America. [Britons] think that if you work hard you can make it, and therefore if you don't succeed it is because you haven't worked hard enough."

The report points out that even those who agree the income gap is too large may not believe that governments should intervene to force a redistribution of wealth. Younger people are the most hostile to redistribution, Rowlingson finds: "Scepticism of young people towards inequality in general and redistribution in particular is quite worrying."

She elaborates: "Taking from the rich and giving to the poor is not something that most people in the UK want. They are more willing to invest in services, like education and health."

Why this lack of support for redistribution? Certainly, the "r" word was banned from Labour vocabulary for some time, even if the reality was that, as chancellor, Gordon Brown practised redistribution by stealth to avoid even deeper inequalities. The Office for National Statistics showed in May that Brown used tax credits, for example, to boost incomes for the less well-off. The former Treasury financial secretary John Healey told the BBC recently that, as a result of such policies, families from the poorest fifth of the population were £3,000 a year better off than in 1997.

But a culture hostile to equality was created by remarks such as that of Prime Minister Tony Blair in 2005: "It's not that I don't care about the gap [between high and low incomes], so much as I don't care if there are people who earn a lot of money. They're not my concern. I do care about people who are without opportunity, disadvantaged and poor."

With such statements, the Labour Party failed to combat the public's gloomy view that inequality is inevitable.

"You cannot have equality of opportunities when people don't start from the same point. Inequality is a barrier to aspirations," says Rowlingson.

Will the former redistributive chancellor change the culture? His March Budget was short on handouts and, in response to new statistics on child poverty, he concentrated on measures to encourage parents to work. There is little parliamentary push for major tax realignments. The Liberal Democrat shadow secretary for children, schools and families, David Laws, recently said: "It is a national disgrace that Britain is the developed country where your chances in life are most dependent on your family background." But the Lib Dems have abandoned as a party their policy of a 50p rate of income tax for those with incomes above £100,000.

The Conservatives, too, who talked of redistribution in 2005, have recently been silent on the issue.

The Rowntree Foundation findings suggest that Britain risks falling into a gulf of apathy made even deeper by ignorance of the true nature of our current economic segregation.

"In Africa, the feeling you cannot do anything about things is called compassion fatigue," says Rowlingson. "Leaders have to prove action against inequality is possible."

Rich and poor

1997 "The boundaries of the welfare state are going to have to change"
Tony Blair, days before becoming prime minister

2001 "It's not a burning ambition for me to make sure that David Beckham earns less money"
Tony Blair, rejecting higher tax rates for the rich

2006 "I don't think making the top 1 per cent richest poorer makes the 10 per cent poorest richer"
David Cameron, leader of the opposition

2007 "This Budget was an opportunity to rebalance the tax system in favour of the less wealthy and the Chancellor has failed to do that"
Menzies Campbell on Gordon Brown's final Budget as chancellor

This article first appeared in the 13 August 2007 issue of the New Statesman, Road fix

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The French millennials marching behind Marine Le Pen

A Front National rally attracts former socialists with manicured beards, and a lesbian couple. 

“In 85 days, Marine will be President of the French Republic!” The 150-strong crowd cheered at the sound of the words. On stage, the speaker, the vice-president of the far-right Front National (FN), Florian Philippot, continued: “We will be told that it’s the apocalypse, by the same banks, media, politicians, who were telling the British that Brexit would be an immediate catastrophe.

"Well, they voted, and it’s not! The British are much better off than we are!” The applause grew louder and louder. 

I was in the medieval city of Metz, in a municipal hall near the banks of the Moselle River, a tributary of the Rhine from which the region takes its name. The German border lies 49km east; Luxembourg City is less than an hour’s drive away. This is the "Country of the Three Borders", equidistant from Strasbourg and Frankfurt, and French, German and French again after various wars. Yet for all that local history is deeply rooted in the wider European history, votes for the Front National rank among the highest nationally, and continue to rise at every poll. 

In rural Moselle, “Marine”, as the Front National leader Marine Le Pen is known, has an envoy. In 2014, the well-spoken, elite-educated Philippot, 35, ran for mayor in Forbach, a former miner’s town near the border. He lost to the Socialist candidate but has visited regularly since. Enough for the locals to call him “Florian".

I grew up in a small town, Saint-Avold, halfway between Metz and Forbach. When my grandfather was working in the then-prosperous coal mines, the Moselle region attracted many foreign workers. Many of my fellow schoolmates bore Italian and Polish surnames. But the last mine closed in 2004, and now, some of the immigrants’ grandchildren are voting for the National Front.

Returning, I can't help but wonder: How did my generation, born with the Maastricht treaty, end up turning to the Eurosceptic, hard right FN?

“We’ve seen what the other political parties do – it’s always the same. We must try something else," said Candice Bertrand, 23, She might not be part of the group asking Philippot for selfies, but she had voted FN at every election, and her family agreed. “My mum was a Communist, then voted for [Nicolas] Sarkozy, and now she votes FN. She’s come a long way.”  The way, it seemed, was political distrust.

Minutes earlier, Philippot had pleaded with the audience to talk to their relatives and neighbours. Bertrand had brought her girlfriend, Lola, whom she was trying to convince to vote FN.  Lola wouldn’t give her surname – her strongly left-wing family would “certainly not” like to know she was there. She herself had never voted.

This infuriated Bertrand. “Women have fought for the right to vote!” she declared. Daily chats with Bertrand and her family had warmed up Lola to voting Le Pen in the first round, although not yet in the second. “I’m scared of a major change,” she confided, looking lost. “It’s a bit too extreme.” Both were too young to remember 2002, when a presidential victory for the then-Front National leader Jean-Marie Le Pen, was only a few percentage points away.

Since then, under the leadership of his daughter, Marine, the FN has broken every record. But in this region, the FN’s success isn’t new. In 2002, when liberal France was shocked to see Le Pen reach the second round of the presidential election, the FN was already sailing in Moselle. Le Pen grabbed 23.7 per cent of the Moselle vote in the first round and 21.9 per cent in the second, compared to 16.9 per cent and 17.8 per cent nationally. 

The far-right vote in Moselle remained higher than the national average before skyrocketing in 2012. By then, the younger, softer-looking Marine had taken over the party. In that year, the FN won an astonishing 24.7 per cent of the Moselle vote, and 17.8 per cent nationwide.

For some people of my generation, the FN has already provided opportunities. With his manicured beard and chic suit, Emilien Noé still looks like the Young Socialist he was between 16 and 18 years old. But looks can be deceiving. “I have been disgusted by the internal politics at the Socialist Party, the lack of respect for the low-ranked campaigners," he told me. So instead, he stood as the FN’s youngest national candidate to become mayor in his village, Gosselming, in 2014. “I entered directly into action," he said. (He lost). Now, at just 21, Noé is the FN’s youth coordinator for Eastern France.

Metz, Creative Commons licence credit Morgaine

Next to him stood Kevin Pfeiffer, 27. He told me he used to believe in the Socialist ideal, too - in 2007, as a 17-year-old, he backed Ségolène Royal against Sarkozy. But he is now a FN local councillor and acts as the party's general co-ordinator in the region. Both Noé and Pfeiffer radiated a quiet self-confidence, the sort that such swift rises induces. They shared a deep respect for the young-achiever-in-chief: Philippot. “We’re young and we know we can have perspectives in this party without being a graduate of l’ENA,” said another activist, Olivier Musci, 24. (The elite school Ecole Nationale d’Administration, or ENA, is considered something of a mandatory finishing school for politicians. It counts Francois Hollande and Jacques Chirac among its alumni. Ironically, Philippot is one, too.)

“Florian” likes to say that the FN scores the highest among the young. “Today’s youth have not grown up in a left-right divide”, he told me when I asked why. “The big topics, for them, were Maastricht, 9/11, the Chinese competition, and now Brexit. They have grown up in a political world structured around two poles: globalism versus patriotism.” Notably, half his speech was dedicated to ridiculing the FN's most probably rival, the maverick centrist Emmanuel Macron. “It is a time of the nations. Macron is the opposite of that," Philippot declared. 

At the rally, the blue, red and white flame, the FN’s historic logo, was nowhere to be seen. Even the words “Front National” had deserted the posters, which were instead plastered with “in the name of the people” slogans beneath Marine’s name and large smile. But everyone wears a blue rose at the buttonhole. “It’s the synthesis between the left’s rose and the right’s blue colour”, Pfeiffer said. “The symbol of the impossible becoming possible.” So, neither left nor right? I ask, echoing Macron’s campaign appeal. “Or both left and right”, Pfeiffer answered with a grin.

This nationwide rebranding follows years of efforts to polish the party’s jackass image, forged by decades of xenophobic, racist and anti-Semitic declarations by Le Pen Sr. His daughter evicted him from the party in 2015.

Still, Le Pen’s main pledges revolve around the same issue her father obsessed over - immigration. The resources spent on "dealing with migrants" will, Le Pen promises, be redirected to address the concerns of "the French people". Unemployment, which has been hovering at 10 per cent for years, is very much one of them. Moselle's damaged job market is a booster for the FN - between 10 and 12 per cent of young people are unemployed.

Yet the two phenomena cannot always rationally be linked. The female FN supporters I met candidly admitted they drove from France to Luxembourg every day for work and, like many locals, often went shopping in Germany. Yet they hoped to see the candidate of “Frexit” enter the Elysee palace in May. “We've never had problems to work in Luxembourg. Why would that change?” asked Bertrand. (Le Pen's “144 campaign pledges” promise frontier workers “special measures” to cross the border once out of the Schengen area, which sounds very much like the concept of the Schengen area itself.)

Grégoire Laloux, 21, studied history at the University of Metz. He didn't believe in the European Union. “Countries have their own interests. There are people, but no European people,” he said. “Marine is different because she defends patriotism, sovereignty, French greatness and French history.” He compared Le Pen to Richelieu, the cardinal who made Louis XIV's absolute monarchy possible:  “She, too, wants to build a modern state.”

French populists are quick to link the country's current problems to immigration, and these FN supporters were no exception. “With 7m poor and unemployed, we can't accept all the world's misery,” Olivier Musci, 24, a grandchild of Polish and Italian immigrants, told me. “Those we welcome must serve the country and be proud to be here.”

Lola echoed this call for more assimilation. “At our shopping centre, everyone speaks Arabic now," she said. "People have spat on us, thrown pebbles at us because we're lesbians. But I'm in my country and I have the right to do what I want.” When I asked if the people who attacked them were migrants, she was not so sure. “Let's say, they weren't white.”

Trump promised to “Make America Great Again”. To where would Le Pen's France return? Would it be sovereign again? White again? French again? Ruled by absolutism again? She has blurred enough lines to seduce voters her father never could – the young, the gay, the left-wingers. At the end of his speech, under the rebranded banners, Philippot invited the audience to sing La Marseillaise with him. And in one voice they did: “To arms citizens! Form your battalions! March, march, let impure blood, water our furrows...” The song is the same as the one I knew growing up. But it seemed to me, this time, a more sinister tune.