The referendum debate is increasingly split along class lines. Photo: Getty
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Why the Yes campaign isn't winning the economic argument in "middle" Scotland

The Yes campaign is losing the economic argument – this could be more to do with establishment unionism than seeing through the SNP's "bluff".

The economic case for Scottish independence practically makes itself. Britain is in headlong decline. During the 1970s average economic growth in the UK was just shy of 2.5 per cent. Over the course of the last 14 years it has been closer to 1.5 per cent. In the early 1980s the UK had a trade surplus (due, in part, to the boost provided by North Sea oil). These days, its trade deficit stands at more than £20bn. Owing to the erosion of trade union power under successive Conservative and Labour governments, Britain now has the second highest rate of low pay in the OECD. Six years after the crash, average UK earnings are still some-way below inflation and won’t return to their pre-recession peak until 2020.

And it gets worse. For the last three decades, Scottish growth rates have lagged behind growth rates in the rest of the UK, as well as in other comparably-sized European states. According to one recent study, as much as 70 per cent of the Scottish economy is foreign-owned. Because of the high concentration of manufacturing jobs north of the border, Scotland has been particularly badly hit by successive rounds of (Westminster-imposed) deindustrialisation, while the increasing focus on London-based finance as the motor of UK growth has locked Scotland into a monetary policy regime which actively undermines its manufacturing exports. So anyone who seriously believes Scotland benefits from the UK needs to explain why, when it comes to Scotland’s economy (particularly its industrial economy), the UK has such an abysmal record.

Yet, despite all this, large numbers of Scottish voters remain unconvinced by the economics of independence. Earlier this month, a YouGov poll showed that just 27 per cent of Scots believe Scotland would be better off outside the UK, while 49 per cent think it would be worse off. Put simply, the Yes campaign is losing the economic argument – an argument it has to win if it is to stand any chance of securing a majority for independence in September. Unionists are acutely aware of this, which is why, on Tuesday, George Osborne challenged the SNP to lay out what independence would mean for Scotland’s deficit, for its oil and for its currency. “These are the questions that shape all our lives”, Osborne said. “They dictate our mortgage and tax bills; the quality of our schools and hospitals; the safety of our jobs and opportunities of our children. Our economic security hangs on [the] answers.”

Although the SNP insists it has answered these questions, it’s clear that the broader nationalist message – which stresses the strength and untapped potential of Scotland’s economy – just isn’t getting through. But why? Better Together’s theory is that ordinary Scots see through the SNP’s “bluff”; that, as the “risks” of independence become clearer, more and more people are retreating back into the “safety and security” of the Union. There’s probably some truth to this. Many ordinary Scottish voters are still uncertain about what independence will actually entail and (ironically) seem hesitant about “gambling” on Scotland’s future while the effects of the financial crash still linger.

But there’s another theory. As most people now accept, the referendum debate is increasingly split along class lines, with poorer Scots disproportionately supportive of independence and wealthier Scots disproportionately opposed. For obvious reasons, voters who don’t own their own homes, run their own businesses or work well-paid jobs are keen on the idea of change, while those with relatively secure lives have a much greater stake in the status-quo. Better Together speaks directly to the self-interest of this latter group. Take Alastair Darling’s interview in the Daily Mail last week, in which the former Chancellor fretted about the effect independence might have on Scottish financial institutions, dismissed Nordic social democracy (“[it means] higher income tax and VAT up to 25 per cent”) and accused the SNP of “bullying” the CBI. This is establishment unionism in its purest form, completely detached from the sort of “progressive”, centre-left unionism the Labour Party claims to represent.

So far, the No campaign hasn’t had to work very hard to keep its affluent base on side. “Middle” Scotland hasn’t felt the rough edge of Britain’s post-war decline in the same way or to the same extent as “lower” Scotland has. In fact, even as the collapse of manufacturing devastated communities in Scotland’s (now Yes voting) former industrial heartlands, the financialisation of the Scottish economy created a whole new sector for Scottish professionals to thrive in. Can the Yes campaign convince middle-class Scots, in what little time is left before September, to change their minds? Or will Scotland’s doctor, lawyers and bankers prove themselves every bit as petulant and conservative as their counterparts in other parts of the UK?

Photo: Getty
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Leaving the cleaning to someone else makes you happier? Men have known that for centuries

Research says avoiding housework is good for wellbeing, but women have rarely had the option.

If you want to be happy, there is apparently a trick: offload the shitwork onto somebody else. Hire cleaner. Get your groceries delivered. Have someone else launder your sheets. These are the findings published by the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, but it’s also been the foundation of our economy since before we had economics. Who does the offloading? Men. Who does the shitwork? Women.

Over the last 40 years, female employment has risen to almost match the male rate, but inside the home, labour sticks stubbornly to old patterns: men self-report doing eight hours of housework a week, while women slog away for 13. When it comes to caring for family members, the difference is even more stark: men do ten hours, and women 23.

For your average heterosexual couple with kids, that means women spend 18 extra hours every week going to the shops, doing the laundry, laying out uniform, doing the school run, loading dishwashers, organising doctors' appointments, going to baby groups, picking things up, cooking meals, applying for tax credits, checking in on elderly parents, scrubbing pots, washing floors, combing out nits, dusting, folding laundry, etcetera etcetera et-tedious-cetera.

Split down the middle, that’s nine hours of unpaid work that men just sit back and let women take on. It’s not that men don’t need to eat, or that they don’t feel the cold cringe of horror when bare foot meets dropped food on a sticky kitchen floor. As Katrine Marçal pointed out in Who Cooked Adam Smiths Dinner?, men’s participation in the labour market has always relied on a woman in the background to service his needs. As far as the majority of men are concerned, domestic work is Someone Else’s Problem.

And though one of the study authors expressed surprise at how few people spend their money on time-saving services given the substantial effect on happiness, it surely isn’t that mysterious. The male half of the population has the option to recruit a wife or girlfriend who’ll do all this for free, while the female half faces harsh judgement for bringing cover in. Got a cleaner? Shouldn’t you be doing it yourself rather than outsourcing it to another woman? The fact that men have even more definitively shrugged off the housework gets little notice. Dirt apparently belongs to girls.

From infancy up, chores are coded pink. Looking on the Toys “R” Us website, I see you can buy a Disney Princess My First Kitchen (fuchsia, of course), which is one in the eye for royal privilege. Suck it up, Snow White: you don’t get out of the housekeeping just because your prince has come. Shop the blue aisle and you’ll find the Just Like Home Workshop Deluxe Carry Case Workbench – and this, precisely, is the difference between masculine and feminine work. Masculine work is productive: it makes something, and that something is valuable. Feminine work is reproductive: a cleaned toilet doesn’t stay clean, the used plates stack up in the sink.

The worst part of this con is that women are presumed to take on the shitwork because we want to. Because our natures dictate that there is a satisfaction in wiping an arse with a woman’s hand that men could never feel and money could never match. That fiction is used to justify not only women picking up the slack at home, but also employers paying less for what is seen as traditional “women’s work” – the caring, cleaning roles.

It took a six-year legal battle to secure compensation for the women Birmingham council underpaid for care work over decades. “Don’t get me wrong, the men do work hard, but we did work hard,” said one of the women who brought the action. “And I couldn’t see a lot of them doing what we do. Would they empty a commode, wash somebody down covered in mess, go into a house full of maggots and clean it up? But I’ll tell you what, I would have gone and done a dustman’s job for the day.”

If women are paid less, they’re more financially dependent on the men they live with. If you’re financially dependent, you can’t walk out over your unfair housework burden. No wonder the settlement of shitwork has been so hard to budge. The dream, of course, is that one day men will sack up and start to look after themselves and their own children. Till then, of course women should buy happiness if they can. There’s no guilt in hiring a cleaner – housework is work, so why shouldn’t someone get paid for it? One proviso: every week, spend just a little of the time you’ve purchased plotting how you’ll overthrow patriarchy for good.

Sarah Ditum is a journalist who writes regularly for the Guardian, New Statesman and others. Her website is here.