How social mobility got stuck

Britain's poor were absolutely and relatively better off until Thatcher was elected in 1979. Since then, the bottom half of society is worse off than it was in 1983.

The best place to look for rubbish written on social class is in the Daily Mail. When the BBC released its Great British Class Survey in April the Mail cited a pundit, the “author and social commentator” Jill Kirby, willing to claim that “there is plenty of social mobility – even the Precariat can escape more easily than the working class of 50 years ago”. In fact, the survey revealed nothing of the kind. The socalled Precariat, the lowest social class in the BBC’s research, is stuck at the bottom.

Class matters and it matters most at the top. The greatest number of social divisions occurs in the top 1 per cent of the population, so, to understand class, you have to spend a great deal of time looking at divisions among the elite. Take the “grocer’s daughter” from Grantham who the Tory party took as coming from the lower orders, because all her father owned was two shops. To have a chance of standing as a Tory MP she had to marry at least a class above herself, and she started high. Margaret Roberts was born in 1925 into the best-off 10 per cent of families in Britain. By the time she went to university her father, Alfred, had risen to be a member (if a lowly one) of the 1 per cent. Margaret joined an even smaller proportion when she went “up” to Oxford, and she married into the 0.1 per cent with Denis and his money. But the grandees of her party were members of the 0.01 per cent, well above the Thatchers.

For Thatcher to become leader of the Conservatives, the party had to be in disarray. This was true even though the importance of class declined fairly steadily from the day she was born to the day in 1979 when she became prime minister. However, since then, right through to her death, the importance of class has soared. Those who won the highest rewards from her victory were among the richest. It is worth looking first at who gained most, before turning to the losers.

In 1945, when Thatcher turned 20, the richest 0.01 per cent people in Britain received 123 times the mean national average income. By the time she turned 40 in 1965 that had halved to 62 times, and the year before she came to power, in 1978, it was at its minimum: just 28 times the average income.

Twin peaks: disparities in welath from the start of Old Labour (1945) to the end of New Labour (2009)

Britain in the 1970s was a very different world from the Britain of the 1940s. Thatcher’s class hated it. The class above her, the one that she joined, loathed the changes even more, and the class above that put its money where its anger was, funding think tanks, newspapers and young politicians to fight back.

If they were very clever they funded the short-lived Social Democratic Party, because it was largely not by the gains of the right, but by the divisions between the left and centre, that the rise in inequality after 1978 became possible. In most other European countries there was greater solidarity on the left.

By the time Thatcher left office in 1990 the annual incomes of the richest 0.01 per cent of society had climbed to 70 times the national mean, and the accelerating effect of her government’s actions multiplied that increase to 99 times the national mean by 1997. It is also well known that Thatcher said her greatest achievement was New Labour. By 2007, the incomes of the best-off 0.01 per cent were at 144 times the national mean average. That top share fell slightly in the 2008 crash, but it is thought to have bounced back since.

Class at the top of British society is fractured. Under Thatcherism and New Labour, the best-off 0.1 per cent benefited from a greater proportionate increase in their wealth than the tiny slice at the very top. The annual incomes of the 0.01 per cent soared to more than 45 times the mean by 2007, but just beneath them the top 1 per cent – the tier most commented on today – did even better. Alfred Roberts, owner of two shops in Grantham, received through his work and assets about seven times the mean adult income in the year 1945. This fell to roughly six by the end of the 1945-50 Labour government but it was restored temporarily on the re-election of the Tories in 1951, only to decline again under their tenure and Labour’s. It wasn’t until his daughter’s government, formed in 1979, that the 1 per cent were not just restored but elevated to nine times the mean.

It can help to personalise class. To picture the richest 0.01 per cent of our society, think of newspaper proprietors such as the Barclay brothers, those extremely wealthy individuals who invited Thatcher to live at the Ritz, their hotel in London, in the months before she died. For the 0.1 per cent, think of people such as Denis and Margaret Thatcher, and for the 1 per cent think of Alfred Roberts. Social class does not depend on income alone; it is about relationships between people. The owner of two shops (the 1 per cent) doffs his cap to the duke (the 0.01 per cent) and between them the businessman (the 0.1 per cent) lobbies for a knighthood. Below all three the clerks (9 per cent) carry out humdrum duties and below all of them the 90 per cent are repeatedly categorised and recategorised by social scientists whose surveys, even if representative, usually do not give enough detail to differentiate well between the few at the top.

Two statistics will broadly suffice to work out what class you are in: your household income and your family wealth. Often your postcode can reveal a great deal about these. Rather like those charts that plot your height against your weight and tell you if you are overweight, average, underweight or obese, a chart could be produced to determine your class (even though it is unlikely that social researchers could agree on a single chart as yet).

As people’s incomes rise when they get a job, are promoted, meet a better-paid partner and so on, they tend to move out from poorer groups to those less poor – towards average, modest, affluent and occasionally even to wealthy parts of society. This was the story of Alfred Roberts. As their income rises, prudent folk save and usually their wealth as reflected in their standard of living also rises. When incomes first fall, say, through illness or redundancy, accrued wealth maintains its social class for a time, but eventually it falls back down the income/wealth chart towards poverty if nothing intervenes to stop it.

In postwar Britain the intervention that curtailed poverty was the redistribution of income and wealth. When fewer people were allowed to hoard so much of the wealth and claim so much of the nation’s annual income, fewer could be poor. Roberts appeared to become worse off, not because of anything that he did, but because he was not permitted to make ever more sizeable profits out of the people of Grantham. If he did increase his income by charging them an extra penny for bread, then a little more of that penny was taken back off him in taxation towards the common good. Roberts almost certainly hated this.

Between 1945 and 1978, as income (and then wealth) inequalities in Britain continued to fall, social mobility rose. In 1944 the state introduced free secondary education for all and then untiered secondary education was brought in, but only slowly. It was not until 1973 that the proportion of children of secondary age in Britain attending a comprehensive school hit 50 per cent, though that rose rapidly to 80 per cent by 1977. Any increased social mobility brought about by that would not be evident until most of these children reached middle age, after the millennium.

As class divisions in Britain diminished and the income and wealth gaps between people narrowed, the only group that lost out was the richest 1 per cent. The share of national income for the 9 per cent of people just below them remained static between 1945 and 1978, but for the 90 per cent of people below them the share rose. The poor became both absolutely and relatively better off until Margaret Thatcher was elected.

Shortly after she gained power, a survey was conducted on behalf of ITN News and a TV programme called Breadline Britain, which released the results in 1983. Its startling finding was that the spike in unemployment figures that Thatcher had tolerated and the shift in income from poor to rich had resulted in a rapid increase in poverty, so that one in seven people was living in poverty by the early 1980s. This was a sharp rise above levels experienced after the end of the 1960s.

The deepening inequality since 1978 is far more familiar to us than what occurred before it, yet it is still shocking. In its 2013 Poverty and Social Exclusion (PSE) report, published in March to mark the 30th anniversary of that 1983 survey, analysts funded by the Economic and Social Research Council noted: “Today 33 per cent of the UK population suffers from multiple deprivation by the standards set by the public. It was 14 per cent in 1983.”          

The PSE report showed that as the rich became richer in Britain, there was an increase in the numbers of poorer people who had rational fears about money, who were shoddily housed by the standard of their times, who lived in shame and who, at the extreme end of the scale, could not afford to be properly fed. That last rise has been very recent, but it is part of the longer-term trend. This is why 1930s-type soup kitchens have returned to Britain’s towns and cities. The statistics that follow are just a sample of the results of the largest ever systematic study of poverty and social exclusion in Britain, highlighted in a new special edition of Breadline Britain that was broadcast by ITN on 28 March.

The PSE report presents a very different picture of class in Britain today from the one offered by the BBC’s class survey. It has the top 1 per cent and the 9 per cent below it doing all right. Below this tier, the remaining top half of society is getting by on “modest” incomes. But those beneath this are now, in many ways, worse off than they were in 1983.

Of the bottom 50 per cent of people in Britain, all are financially insecure; most (30 per cent) are poorly housed by today’s standards; a large minority (20 per cent) cannot take part in normal social activities; below this minority most cannot now afford to heat their homes properly; and below them, one in every 15 (7 per cent) is poorly fed. The seven classes this produces could be labelled the rich (1 per cent), the affluent (9 per cent), the modest (40 per cent), the insecure (20 per cent), the shamed (10 per cent), the cold (13 per cent) and the hungry (7 per cent).

The PSE survey finds that most people in Britain agree that financial insecurity includes not being able to afford to save at least £20 a month for a rainy day (having to pay, for instance, to fix a boiler – a bill of, say, £500). It includes not being able to afford to make pension payments or have household insurance.

Inadequate housing includes cold housing. The PSE survey found that one in three people cannot afford to heat their home adequately in winter. A third of adults consider themselves to be truly poor “all the time” or “sometimes”. The report explained that “a quarter of adults said their incomes were below the level needed to avoid poverty and 22 per cent had felt embarrassed by their low income”.

In 1983, 5 per cent of households were unable to heat their home to keep it adequately warm; today that proportion is 9 per cent. Some 6 per cent of households in Britain in 1983 could not afford to live in damp-free housing; today that proportion is 10 per cent. When the rich take more, the poor become poorer – and now they are becoming absolutely poorer.

Social divisions of poverty and welath among people in Britain by status (2013)

Social activities that most of the people surveyed now see as necessities are having a cheap hobby, taking part in celebrations on special occasions, attending a wedding or funeral or similar functions, being able to make hospital or other such visits, and being able to take part in sport and exercise. In 1999 one-fifth of adults could not afford to take part in these activities. When the same set of questions was asked in 2012 the researchers found it was one-third of all adults.

The broadly agreed definitions of well fed are that children need three meals a day, fresh fruit and vegetables every day and meat, fish or a vegetarian equivalent at least once a day. Every adult should be able to consume two meals a day, fresh fruit and vegetables every day and meat, fish or a vegetarian equivalent every other day. Using these definitions, the PSE survey found that well over half a million children (4 per cent) live in families that cannot afford to feed them properly and over three and a half million adults (8 per cent) cannot afford to eat properly in Britain today – that is, one in every 17 people in the country.

A fraction of the income of the top 1 per cent would provide enough money to allow all who are going hungry to be fed adequately. But today the man who owns two grocer’s shops is richer than ever, because he charges more for his goods and pays less tax. And many more people will not be able to afford many of the basic items he sells.

Danny Dorling is a professor of human geography at the University of Sheffield. He is the author most recently of “The 32 Stops” (Particular Books, £4.99) and “Unequal Health” (Policy Press, £24.99) For more details of the Poverty and Social Exclusion project visit: poverty.ac.uk

Tough at the top: the greatest number of social divisions occurs in the wealthiest 1 per cent of the British population. Photograph: Getty Images.

This article first appeared in the 13 May 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Eton Mess

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The fall of Milo Yiannopoulos: Only the mainstream right has the power to stop the populist right

The lessons of the provocateur's sudden fall from grace.

Alas, poor Milo Yiannopoulos, we hardly knew ye. Well, actually, that's not true. I first encountered Yiannopolous in 2012, when he tried to slut-shame a friend of mine, sex blogger Zoe Margolis, after she criticised his tech site, the Kernel.  "We write about how tech is changing the world around us," he tweeted. "You write about how many cocks you've sucked this week. Back off."

It was a typical Milo performance. Flashy, provocative - and steeped in misogyny. 

Fast-forward five years and he had managed to parlay those qualities into a gig with Breitbart, a public speaking tour, and until yesterday, a $250,000 book deal with Simon & Schuster. But last night, that was cancelled, "after careful consideration". Yiannopolous's invitation to speak at the Conservative Political Action Conference had been cancelled hours before. Over the years, CPAC has hosted Ronald Reagan, George W Bush and all the Hall of Fame right-wing blowhards: Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity. 

What changed CPAC's mind? On 18 February, the organisation had tweeted that "free speech includes hearing Milo's important perspective".

Milo's important perspective on what was left unanswered, because it is unanswerable. Does anyone, really, think that Milo Yiannopoulos has deep and rigorously researched convictions? That his statements on feminism, on transgender people, or his criticisms of Ghostbusters actor Leslie Jones, spring from some deep well of evidence and sincerity?

Do me a favour.

Yiannopoulos was invited to CPAC to do what he does: be outrageous. To give the attendees a frisson of excitement at being in the presence of someone so notorious, someone willing to "say the unsayable". To outrage the left, and remind those watching of the gulf between them and the people waving placards outside.

Except the provocateur is finding out that some things really are unsayable. Some things - all his previous things, in fact - are extremely sayable, as long as you have the protection of the mainstream right and a media industry which craves - and monetises - attention. But a few are not.

So what did Milo Yiannopoulos actually say to prompt this outbreak of condemnation, and the withdrawal of lucrative marketing opportunities? The first thing to note is that the comments which kicked off the latest row are not new. After he appeared on Bill Maher's show improbably dressed as Like A Virgin Era Madonna (in an appearance up there with Jimmy Fallon rustling Trump's tawny locks on the Vom-O-Meter), old YouTube videos surfaced which, in the BBC's words, "showed him discussing the merits of gay relationships between adults and boys as young as 13". He said that the age of consent was "not this black and white thing" and relationships "between younger boys and older men … can be hugely positive experiences". 

He has since denied endorsing paedophilia, said that he is a survivor of child abuse himself, and added that the videos were edited to give a misleading impression.

In the tweet announcing that he had been dropped, CPAC accused him of "condoning paedophilia". But he argues that elsewhere in the video he said that the US age of consent was in the correct place.

For those on the left, the overwhelming reaction to all this has been: why now? Why these comments, not the ones about "preening poofs", or lesbians faking hate crimes, or the danger of Muslims, or the harassment campaign against Leslie Jones which got him permanently banned from Twitter? (Do you know how consistently and publicly awful you have to be to get banned from Twitter???)

There's only one answer to that, really: yesterday marked the moment when Milo Yiannopoulos ceased being an asset to the mainstream right, and became a liability.

***

On 8 February, Jan-Werner Muller wrote a fascinating piece for the FT in which he argued that the populist right was not, as the narrative would have it, an unstoppable grassroots movement sweeping the world. Instead it should be seen as an outgrowth of the mainstream right, which fed it and gave it succour. 

These colourful images are deeply misleading. Mr Farage did not bring about the Brexit vote all by himself. He needed two mainstream Conservative politicians, Boris Johnson and Michael Gove. More important still, the Leave vote was not just the result of spontaneous anti-establishment feelings by the downtrodden; Euroscepticism, once a fringe position among Conservatives, had been nourished for decades by tabloid newspapers and rebel MPs.

President Trump did not win as an outside candidate of a third-party populist movement either. Where Mr Farage had Messrs Johnson and Gove, Mr Trump could rely on the blessing of establishment Republicans such as Newt Gingrich, Chris Christie and Rudy Giuliani."  

This is unarguably true in the case of Milo Yiannopoulos: he started his career at the Telegraph, once the newspaper of choice for retired colonels eating marmalade in the shires. Iain Martin, a colleague of his there, yesterday jokingly acknowledged that he was "partly to blame".

A quick look at Nigel Farage's experience during the EU referendum is also instructive. The Vote Leave campaign worked hard to shut him out of the public discussion in the weeks before 23 June - reasoning that his overt anti-immigration broadsides would turn off swing voters. They even accused broadcasters of "joining the IN campaign" by inviting Farage to debate David Cameron. To understand Farage's bewilderment at this treatment, read his speeches from the time, or his grumpy appearance on TV the morning after the victory, where he said the £350m NHS claim was a mistake. The guy felt betrayed.

And it's not surprising. A significant number of Tory Eurosceptics in parliament had, until Cameron announced the referendum would happen, found Farage's existence extremely useful. There he was - a living, breathing, chainsmoking reminder that MPs (and voters) could move to Ukip if Britain didn't get a say on membership of the European Union. But once the campaign began, they found him an embarrassment. The "Breaking Point" poster was repellent. He was turning off moderate voters. And so he was frozen out. Boris Johnson and Michael Gove suddenly discovered that - hey, this guy says some pretty outrageous things!

A similar dynamic happened with Donald Trump. We now know he performed on 8 November about as well as a generic Republican after eight years of a Democratic president. Certainly no better - had he run as an independent, that small core of Trump-lovers would be a speck within a wider population, instead of being held up as the vanguard of a new kind of politics. Throughout the campaign, GOP grandees like Paul Ryan struggled to condemn him, reasoning that a Republican president - any Republican president, even one who didn't seem to believe in most of the alleged values of the Republican party - was better than a Democrat. Trump was boosted and bolstered by significant portions of the mainstream right, and even the centre: CNN employed his former campaign manager as a pundit. Fox, a mainstream news channel owned by a huge corporation, gave him waves of adoring coverage. 

***

What's in all this for the mainstream right? Two things. The first is that the populist right are useful generators of heat. They say outrageous things - black people are lazy! Muslims are terrorists! - putting their opponents in a bind. Do you let such assertions go, on the basis that those voicing them are a tiny fringe? Or do you wearily condemn every single instance of bigotry, making yourself look like a dull Pez dispenser of condemnation? Either way is debilitating, either for public discourse broadly, or for the left's appeal to disengaged people. 

Secondly, the populist right are useful outriders. Sheltered by the mainstream right - would anyone read Katie Hopkins if she had a blog, or Piers Morgan? nope - these "provocateurs" can push extreme versions of narratives that many on the mainstream right feel to be true, or at least to contain a kernel of truth worth discussing. If Breitbart says "black crime" is a distinct phenomenon, then it's much more acceptable for Trump to threaten to "send in the Feds" to Chicago, or to describe inner cities as wastelands in need of a strong hand. If Katie Hopkins writes about migrants drowning in the Mediterranean as "cockroaches", she dehumanises them - turning them from fathers, mothers, children into a faceless mass, not like us, and therefore not deserving of our pity. That makes it much easier for the government to stop taking child refugees. After all, didn't I read somewhere that they're all 45 and just pretending to be children, anyway?

The populist right are extremely good generators of memes - those little bits of information which move virally through society. Take the grooming gang in Rochdale. It gets invoked every time feminists try to have a conversation about male violence. Um, did you condemn Rochdale? By the time you reply, wearily, that yes you did, it's too late. The conversation has been derailed for good. What about FGM? Well, yes, of course I'm agains-- oh, too late. We've moved on. 

***

The "alt right" - the online version of the populist right - loves to talk about left-wingers being "triggered" or "snowflakes". This is clearly a rhetorical tactic to delegitimise any criticism of them. I don't write about misogyny because I'm upset by it; I write about it because it's wrong. But it's a playbook that works: look into examples of "political correctness gone mad" and you'll often find a story that has been exaggerated, twisted or straight-up invented in order to paint the left as dolorous monks intent on killing fun. But anyone with any strong beliefs, anyone who holds anything sacred, will react when some shows disrespect to something they care about. The right has just as many shibboleths it is unwilling to see violated. (If you don't believe me, try burning a poppy or the American flag.)

The strangest part of yesterday was seeing Milo Yiannopoulous's increasingly sincere Facebook posts, as the awful realisation dawned on him - as it dawned on Nigel Farage during the referendum - that the sweet shelter of the mainstream right was being withdrawn from him. When he had attacked his female peers in the London tech scene, when he attacked transgender people for being "mentally ill", when he attacked an actor for the temerity to be black, female and funny in a jumpsuit, he was given licence. He was provocative, starting a debate, exercising his free speech. But yesterday he found out that there is always a line. For the right, it's child abuse - because children, uniquely among people who might be sexually abused, are deemed to be innocent. No one is going to buy that a 13-year-old shouldn't have been out that late, or wearing that, or brought it on himself. 

I would not be surprised if this isn't the end of Milo Yiannopoulos's career, and I will watch with keen interest what strategies he will use for his rehabilitation. He's still got his outlaw cachet, and there are still plenty of outlets where the very fact that people are objecting to a speaker is assumed to mean they have something that's worth hearing. And there are plenty more ideas that some on the right would be happy to see pushed a little further into the mainstream - with plausible deniability, of course. If that's the extreme, then the mainstream shifts imperceptibly with every new provocation. Because he's not one of us, oh no. They're not, either. But you see, they must be heard. And provocateurs are useful, until they're not. But it's not the left who decides when that is. Only the mainstream right can stop the extremists on their flanks.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.