Where next for the living wage?

Progress on low pay is imperative.

Tomorrow marks the start of the first Living Wage week. It is tangible proof that, 11 years after a small broad-based East London community alliance revived an idea first forged in the industrial heartlands of 1870s Britain, momentum for increased living wage coverage continues to gather pace.

And with good reason: at a time when powerful forces are bearing down on wages at the bottom end of the labour market, living wage campaigns have delivered tangible gains for thousands of low-paid workers. More widely, living wage initiatives have served as a powerful rallying cry against endemic levels of low-paid work, highlighting the power of social norms in challenging a low-pay, low-productivity economic model that is anything but pre-determined. 
 
Yet for all the success of the living wage campaign relatively few workers have secured a higher wage as a result of a living wage initiative. For example, there are an estimated 651,953 workers in London earning less than the London Living Wage, yet only around 10,341 London workers won a living wage in the six years between 2005 and 2011. This is not a cry of despair, simply a call for realism about the role that living wage initiatives can play in tackling our reliance on an extensive pool of low-paid labour and for targeting efforts where they will be most effective.  
 
Of course, the latter would be far easier if there was greater transparency around low-paid work. There is therefore a powerful case for amending the UK Corporate Governance Code to require listed companies to report on how many of their employees receive less then a living wage – as called for in the final report of the Resolution Foundation’s Commission on Living Standards. At a stroke such a move would begin to alter our tolerance of endemic levels of low pay, laying the ground for further gains. 
 
And we know that further progress is possible. Our estimates suggest that for large private sector companies in key sectors like banking, construction, food production and communications – where roughly a million people in total work below living wage rates – the costs of paying a living wage for all directly-employed staff are affordable at around 1 per cent of the firm’s wage bills. 
 
Of course, different companies will be better able to absorb these costs than others and the introduction of a living wage pay floor will be more challenging for companies in the major low-wage retail sectors (increases in wage bills of between 4.7 and 6.2 percentage points) but progress is still possible.
 
It is also imperative given the growing awareness that the public purse can no longer sustain the high cost of the UK’s reliance on 5 million workers – 1 in 5 employees – who earn above the legal minimum but below a living wage. It is not just low-paid workers and their families that bear the cost of low-paid work on this scale in strained budgets and diminished life chances. Taxpayers also pay to the tune of around £4 billion a year in in-work support for low earners. 
 
With few, if any, believing that the growth in tax credit support that occurred over the past decade can be repeated in these fiscally straitened times there is an urgent need to start developing an ambitious policy agenda to tackle low pay at source. For any policymaker serious about doing so living wages are an integral, if only partial, part of the solution. 
 
But there is a very real need to start matching words with deeds. Over the past decade politicians from across the political spectrum have competed to associate themselves with the idea of the living wage, safe in the knowledge that the voluntary nature of living wage agreements and their partial coverage made doing so almost consequence-free. With the role, rationale, strengths, limitations and policy potential of living wages now under increased scrutiny the window for endorsement devoid of decision is beginning to close. 
 
The transition from approval of living wage initiatives to concrete policy ideas to support their proliferation will not be easy. Yet there is a path for policymakers between inaction and reaching for a legislative solution in the form of a statutory living wage which few living wage advocates would endorse. That path not only involves fostering greater transparency around low pay but also thinking about the use of central and local government’s purchasing power and how the notional savings in state support that would accrue from more extensive living wage coverage might be used to help firms transition to better business models. None of this will be simple. But the alternative of not matching words with deeds is no longer a justifiable option at a time when we need wages to do far more of the heavy lifting if the living standards of low earners are not to decline rapidly. 
 
Matthew Pennycook is senior research and policy analyst at the Resolution Foundation
A street cleaner passes the Jobcentre Plus office in Bath (Photo: Getty Images)

Matthew Pennycook is MP for Greenwich and Woolwich, and member of the Energy and Climate Change Committee. He is PPS to John Healey. 

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era