The working class vote is up for grabs - will it be Labour or the Tories that seizes it?

Both parties have to make clear how they would cut the cost of living, increase the supply of housing and help low-paid workers.

We are increasingly becoming a working class nation. That is the view of almost two-thirds of the British public according to a report by the think-tank, British Future. Even a third of professionals describe themselves as working class.

Some commentators, such as Gaby Hinsliff, argue that this shift in class identity presents a big opportunity for the Labour Party. It’s not quite as simple as that. Both political parties have had major problems in reaching out to working class voters in recent years. Labour has become more and more a middle class party in terms of membership, ideas and voter base and the Tories have long struggled to win over blue collar voters. If Brits are feeling more proletarian, both political parties clearly need to up their game when it comes to appealing to ordinary working people.

It’s a sad truth that many working class voters have simply stopped voting altogether. In 1992, 75 per cent of the skilled working class and 77 of unskilled working class people voted. By 2010, that had plummeted to 58 per cent and 57 per cent respectively. And the 'class gap' in voting has become a chasm. In 1992, the voting gap between the proportion of professionals who voted and the skilled working class who voted was eight per cent. By 2010, this gap had increased to 18 per cent.

And our research has shown that more and more voters are feeling alienated from politicians of all parties. Eighty one per cent of voters believe that "politicians don’t understand the real world at all." Ed Miliband has a point when he argues that "Parliament is too middle class and doesn’t have the diversity that it needs to have." Recent research by Phil Cowley found that voters wanted to see more working class MPs and more MPs from their local area. A feeling that the 'political class' are separate from and don’t understand the concerns of ordinary working people can only increase a sense of disengagement.

There’s also substantial evidence that Labour, in particular, has lost the base and the sense of affection it may once have had among working class voters. In a recent YouGov survey, 53 per cent of people said that Labour used to care about "people like me", whereas only 30 per cent think the same today. Labour’s vote at the last election also haemorrhaged amongst the skilled working class to a mere 29 per cent, compared with Tony Blair in his first two elections who won over more than half of these voters.

It’s striking how much Labour’s membership has also reflected this received drift from working class roots. At the party's top table, it is much more likely that you'll be hearing the views of Islington coffee houses than the working men's clubs of County Durham.

In the 2010 Labour leadership election, the Blaenau Gwent Labour Party, once represented by Labour giants Nye Bevan and Michael Foot, distributed 310 ballot papers. Barnsley Central sent out 221. By contrast, Islington North CLP sent out 991 papers and Hampstead sent out 931 - a stark illustration of how the balance of power in Labour has moved from working to middle class areas and from north to south. As the Labour Party has become 'lattefied' it's views have gradually moved out of sympathy with voters in working class areas, on issues ranging from the EU to housing and crime and justice.

Indeed, a recent poll showed that middle class people were much more likely to describe themselves as "left of centre" than working class voters. Working class voters believe in aspiration – but this doesn’t mean earning megabucks, instead it’s seen as getting on in their job, improving their area, hoping for the best for their family, for example – but are also keen to ensure economic security. It’s pretty clear that neither party has been able to successfully balance aspiration and security in recent years.

These factors, combined with the collapse of the Liberal Democrats in the north and the midlands mean that the working class vote is up for grabs in a way that it hasn’t been for generations. Given that the next election will be fought in blue collar constituencies in these regions, the party that makes the most compelling appeal to working class voters is probably going to be the one that grabs the big political prize. And it’s not inevitable that this is going to be Labour, which has to take substantial steps to restore the enthusiasm of its working class vote. Both parties have to make clear how they would cut the cost of living, increase the supply of housing and help low-paid workers.

This also represents the first real Conservative opportunity for decades to make inroads in working class areas. But the challenge for the Tories in working class areas is greater, with 64 per cent of voters thinking that they are "the party of the rich, not ordinary people". Tories will be mindful of Mitt Romney’s experience in the USA, where a belief that he didn’t understand "people like me" proved his Achilles heel.

If the Conservatives want to be seen as the party of working people, they need more people from modest backgrounds on the front line and they also have to show that they can represent the shift worker, the cleaner and the checkout worker, as well as the small businessman. They also need to show that they have a vision of job creation and renewal in towns and cities still recovering from deindustrialisation. The party needs explicitly and repeatedly to present policies such as education reform as being designed not to help the well-heeled but, instead, to lift up the standard of education in working class areas - helping poorer children to make the most of their potential.

The Tories also need to tackle some preconceptions. Top Conservatives ought to remember that trade union members and public sector workers are valuable members of society and hard working contributors to the economy, as well as being potential voters. They should remember that one man's "excessive regulation" can be a working man or woman's right to spend time with their family.

But international evidence makes it clear that working class voting behaviour can change. For decades in Sweden, the Social Democrats were seen as the natural home for working class voters. Over the past decade, the centre-right Moderate Party has positioned itself as the workers' party - a home for hard working people with policies to match. Since 2006, the party has been in government - winning the votes of many working class Swedes who would previously have voted Social Democrat. In every other English speaking country, the centre-right has proved successful at winning over the majority of white, working class voters. There is no reason why the Conservatives cannot follow suit.

Given that more people describe themselves as working class than has been the case for decades, winning the working class vote is vital for politicians. With the right language, policies and people, both political parties have the potential of claiming this prize and becoming the party of choice for working class voters.

Ed Miliband speaks to reporters after Labour candidate Andy Sawford won the Corby by-election. Photograph: Getty Images.

David Skelton is the director of Renewal, a new campaign group aiming to broaden the appeal of the Conservative Party to working class and ethnic minority voters. @djskelton

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Arsène Wenger: how can an intelligent manager preside over such a hollowed-out team?

The Arsenal manager faces a frustrating legacy.

Sport is obviously not all about winning, but it is about justified hope. That ­distinction has provided, until recently, a serious defence of Arsène Wenger’s Act II – the losing part. Arsenal haven’t won anything big for 13 years. But they have been close enough (and this is a personal view) to sustain the experience of investing emotionally in the story. Hope turning to disappointment is fine. It’s when the hope goes, that’s the problem.

Defeat takes many forms. In both 2010 and 2011, Arsenal lost over two legs to Barcelona in the Champions League. Yet these were rich and rewarding sporting experiences. In the two London fixtures of those ties, Arsenal drew 2-2 and won 2-1 against the most dazzling team in the world. Those nights reinvigorated my pride in sport. The Emirates Stadium had the best show in town. Defeat, when it arrived in Barcelona, was softened by gratitude. We’d been entertained, more than entertained.

Arsenal’s 5-1 surrender to Bayern Munich on 15 February was very different. In this capitulation by instalments, the fascination was macabre rather than dramatic. Having long given up on discerning signs of life, we began the post-mortem mid-match. As we pored over the entrails, the curiosity lay in the extent of the malady that had brought down the body. The same question, over and over: how could such an intelligent, deep-thinking manager preside over a hollowed-out team? How could failings so obvious to outsiders, the absence of steel and resilience, evade the judgement of the boss?

There is a saying in rugby union that forwards (the hard men) determine who wins, and the backs (the glamour boys) decide by how much. Here is a footballing equivalent: midfielders define matches, attacking players adorn them and defenders get the blame. Yet Arsenal’s players as good as vacated the midfield. It is hard to judge how well Bayern’s playmakers performed because they were operating in a vacuum; it looked like a morale-boosting training-ground drill, free from the annoying presence of opponents.

I have always been suspicious of the ­default English critique which posits that mentally fragile teams can be turned around by licensed on-field violence – a good kicking, basically. Sporting “character” takes many forms; physical assertiveness is only one dimension.

Still, it remains baffling, Wenger’s blind spot. He indulges artistry, especially the mercurial Mesut Özil, beyond the point where it serves the player. Yet he won’t protect the magicians by surrounding them with effective but down-to-earth talents. It has become a diet of collapsing soufflés.

What held back Wenger from buying the linchpin midfielder he has lacked for many years? Money is only part of the explanation. All added up, Arsenal do spend: their collective wage bill is the fourth-highest in the League. But Wenger has always been reluctant to lavish cash on a single star player, let alone a steely one. Rather two nice players than one great one.

The power of habit has become debilitating. Like a wealthy but conservative shopper who keeps going back to the same clothes shop, Wenger habituates the same strata of the transfer market. When he can’t get what he needs, he’s happy to come back home with something he’s already got, ­usually an elegant midfielder, tidy passer, gets bounced in big games, prone to going missing. Another button-down blue shirt for a drawer that is well stuffed.

It is almost universally accepted that, as a business, Arsenal are England’s leading club. Where their rivals rely on bailouts from oligarchs or highly leveraged debt, Arsenal took tough choices early and now appear financially secure – helped by their manager’s ability to engineer qualification for the Champions League every season while avoiding excessive transfer costs. Does that count for anything?

After the financial crisis, I had a revealing conversation with the owner of a private bank that had sailed through the turmoil. Being cautious and Swiss, he explained, he had always kept more capital reserves than the norm. As a result, the bank had made less money in boom years. “If I’d been a normal chief executive, I’d have been fired by the board,” he said. Instead, when the economic winds turned, he was much better placed than more bullish rivals. As a competitive strategy, his winning hand was only laid bare by the arrival of harder times.

In football, however, the crash never came. We all wrote that football’s insane spending couldn’t go on but the pace has only quickened. Even the Premier League’s bosses confessed to being surprised by the last extravagant round of television deals – the cash that eventually flows into the hands of managers and then the pockets of players and their agents.

By refusing to splash out on the players he needed, whatever the cost, Wenger was hedged for a downturn that never arrived.

What an irony it would be if football’s bust comes after he has departed. Imagine the scenario. The oligarchs move on, finding fresh ways of achieving fame, respectability and the protection achieved by entering the English establishment. The clubs loaded with debt are forced to cut their spending. Arsenal, benefiting from their solid business model, sail into an outright lead, mopping up star talent and trophies all round.

It’s often said that Wenger – early to invest in data analytics and worldwide scouts; a pioneer of player fitness and lifestyle – was overtaken by imitators. There is a second dimension to the question of time and circumstance. He helped to create and build Arsenal’s off-field robustness, even though football’s crazy economics haven’t yet proved its underlying value.

If the wind turns, Arsène Wenger may face a frustrating legacy: yesterday’s man and yet twice ahead of his time. 

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit