A Political
Shift in Northern England
Ground Zero
of the Brexit Class War
Northern
England will decide the most important election in the United Kingdom's recent
history. It was once a Labour Party heartland, but Brexit has changed
everything. A visit to the battlefield.
© By Jörg Schindler
December
06, 2019 10:30
"It is
a kind of duty to see and smell such places now and again, especially smell
them, lest you should forget that they exist."
George
Orwell, "The Road to Wigan Pier"
On a recent
Monday morning in November, a central figure in the 2019 British election is
sitting huddled on a scuffed, tartan-upholstered wing chair in the
northern-English city of Wigan. "No matter who you vote for, it won't
change anything," he says.
The man,
who will go by Daryl here, doesn't want his real name published. He pulls an
Adidas hat over his face. Outside, it's raining sideways, while inside, Daryl
smokes an anise-flavored e-cigarette and watches over a small room filled with
bar stools and leather armchairs, its walls decorated with antlers.
Daryl
opened the used furniture shop in March, calling it Bulldog Forge in honor of
the legendary Bulldog Tools manufacturer that occupied this space for over 200
years. Today, its former headquarters is piled with furniture from pubs and
hotels. "It won't make me rich," says Daryl. But compared to what he
left behind, his new life is almost luxurious.
Daryl is 54
years old and lives in one of the poorest regions of the United Kingdom. He was
once a nurse, once homeless, and once a victim of domestic violence. He used to
vote for the Labour Party, but he's not so sure he will this time around.
On December
12, the UK will be voting on its future. And the north of England, where many
people have stories similar to Daryl's, has become this election's battlefield.
Indeed, pollsters believe that people like Daryl will largely decide what will
likely become the most important election in the country's recent history. As a
result, even if many politicians might struggle to find places like Wigan,
Warrington or Workington on a map, they are showing an interest in them -- at
least for a few more days.
This
election, brought about by Boris Johnson, will be the third to take place in
four-and-a-half years. The prime minister has said he is sick of the paralysis
that still-incomplete Brexit has brought upon the country and is counting on
his leadership skills to win him and his Conservatives a clear majority. If he
succeeds, he will implement Brexit by the end of January, and then finally
"unleash" the UK from Brussels. At least, that's what he says.
Playing
Into Johnson's Hands
Even for a
gambler like Johnson, these are high stakes. Because even if the Tories' lead
in the polls seems comfortable, it is a risky move. Johnson has moved his party
to the right at a breathtaking speed, alienating moderate conservatives and
liberal voters alike, and it seems a given that the Tories, who currently have
a minority government, will lose seats in London and Scotland. If they want a
parliamentary majority, they will need to gain dozens of seats from Labour, the
biggest opposition party.
As a
result, poor cities like Wigan -- and used-furniture salesmen like Daryl --
have become more important to the Tories than ever before. Johnson now has a
chance to speckle the traditionally Labour red-colored north of England with
spots of Tory blue.
It's a
daunting task. Since the 1980s, when the north rose up against Margaret
Thatcher, the Tories have largely been considered unelectable in the region.
But Brexit has muddled the situation. After decades of deindustrialization and
globalization, residents of the former coal-mining region voted by a large
majority to exit the EU and many are angry that it hasn't yet happened.
According to Onward, a center-right British think tank, this could play into
Johnson's hands.
It claims
the Tories need to work hard to attract northern, middle-aged white men without
college degrees who live in the countryside or in so-called "rugby
league" towns, struggle financially and are disappointed by Labour's
undecided position on Brexit. Onward has named this type of voter
"Workington Man," after a former coal-mining city. "Wigan
Woman" would be just as apt.
Once it
became clear these voters would be decisive, the Tories began performing
strange political contortions. Johnson and his allies are flattering and
seducing the very people whose lives they have made miserable over the past
decade, with promises of millions in spending. And in a crazy turn of events,
even for these crazy times, the strategy could work.
In late
November, a train ride through northern England was like a journey through a
sinking country. In some areas near Manchester and Sheffield, as much rain
recently fell in one hour as normally falls in an entire month. Well over a
thousand homes were evacuated and, in some places, the water was neck high.
Boris Johnson even showed up for look around in rubber boots -- after having
spent days telling journalists that the situation wasn't all that drastic. In
Stainforth, a woman pushing a wheelbarrow halfway politely declined a
conversation with the prime minister. She had better things to do.
Brutal
Budget Cuts
Further
west in Wigan, it has also rained almost continuously for the past several
weeks. In Wigan's stately city hall, Steve Dawber -- a friendly, bald-headed
63-year-old -- seems like a lost visitor. The Labour politician is mayor of the
city of 80,000 and has had an impressive career for a man who began stacking
cans at the local Heinz factory 40 years ago. Back then, 14,000 people still
worked at Heinz. Today there are only 1,200, the rest having been replaced by
machines, which now spit out more baked beans than ever before, about a billion
cans per year.
Because the
textile factories in Wigan, a former mining town, closed at the same time as
the last coal mines, it underwent a similar decline as the region's other
mid-sized cities. But before the rising frustrations came to the attention of
the government in London, the country was rocked by the banking and financial
crisis. After spending billions to rescue the banks, David Cameron's
Conservative government inaugurated a new era of austerity in 2010.
The
government's brutal budget cuts hit the Labour strongholds in the north
especially hard. Countless libraries, swimming pools, youth clubs and other
municipal facilities were closed. As wages stagnated, the number of people in
precarious financial situations grew. Because the Tories concurrently axed
social programs, poverty also skyrocketed.
When the
Brexit referendum was held six years later, the conservative Brexiteers
successfully convinced people that that foreign workers from mainland Europe
and heartless Brussels bureaucrats were responsible for their decline. While 52
percent of voters across the UK voted for Brexit, the number was far higher in
the money-starved north: 69 percent in Doncaster, 68.3 percent in Barnsley,
66.4 percent in Wakefield.
In Wigan,
one of the regions most affected by austerity, 64 percent voted in favor of
Brexit. There was nothing Steve Dawber and his pro-EU campaign could do against
it. "Europe is for someone else," says the mayor, adding that
although northwestern England receives more money from Brussels than it pays,
big cities like Liverpool and Manchester profit more. Wigan was instructed by
London to cut its 280-million-pound ($360 million) budget to 120 million in 10
years.
'We Run the
Town with Volunteers'
The Labour-dominated
municipal council tried its best to prevent Wigan's collapse. It offered
individuals and groups subsidies if they were willing to continue operating
libraries, swimming pools and nursing wards privately, and Wigan consequently
experienced a boom in charity groups. "We run the town with
volunteers," says Dawber.
But it
wasn't enough to stop the deterioration. Although Wigan's city center, with its
imposing Victorian buildings, is surprisingly well-groomed, a second glance
reveals how many of the small stores are being run by the Samaritans of Wigan,
the YMCA or the British Heart Foundation. These are interspersed with discount
stores like Poundland, Poundstretcher and Pound Bakery, as well as nail
studios, gambling shops and credit providers. Otherwise, the city's urban
landscape is dominated by "to let" signs.
Although
the Wigan of 2019 has little in common with the soot-darkened city George
Orwell described in 1937 as being "a place like hell," with
hopelessly poor residents living like "black beetles" in labyrinthine
slums, the poverty has not disappeared. It has simply become better hidden.
It is
visible in places like Sunshine House. The flat, functional, red-brick building
is about 15 minutes by foot east of the city center and was founded 20 years
ago as a neighborhood meeting spot. Today, it is a lively social-welfare center
offering childcare and adult educational courses, and it is a place where
elderly residents can go for a few hours to escape their loneliness. Its
central room is a brightly lit café that smells of fried food. Every Friday,
visitors can get fish and chips for 3 pounds. The three-course menu on Sundays
costs 5.
Three years
ago, the Sunshine House opened a small grocery store called the
"pantry." Everything on its shelves is donated by supermarkets, and a
loaf of bread costs just 10 pence. Lisa, who works here, says that it's
important for its 2,000 customers that the goods have a symbolic price, unlike
at the food banks, which are becoming increasingly popular in Wigan. "Food
banks put people off. They are humiliating," she says.
Speaking to
the residents of Wigan, one often hears similar stories -- of people whose
social benefits were cut because they supposedly had one room too many in their
apartments; of people who signed "zero hour" contracts, meaning they
officially have jobs, but sit at home from early in the morning until late at
night hoping for something to do; of families who have to choose between
"heating or eating" on a daily basis.
Journalist
Claire Donnellly started telling many of these stories two years ago. And on
the anniversary of Orwell's "The Road to Wigan Pier," Donnelly and
her colleagues from the Daily Mirror launched a project aimed at describing
life in northern England in vignettes. The "Wigan Pier Project" was
meant to run for one year, but it has continued to this day. "There are
too many stories," Donnelly says. "We are going back to Victorian
times," when there was no welfare system, she argues. "If you are
born poor, you stay poor."
By the
Rich, For the Rich
More than
any party leader in recent memory, Jeremy Corbyn, the controversial head of the
Labour Party, has made this problem the crux of his policies. Ever since the
socialist was unexpectedly chosen to head Labour, he has repeatedly reproached
the Tories for the grim consequences of their budget cuts. In this election,
the 70-year-old has rigorously tried to brand Boris Johnson's Tories as an
elite clique pursuing policies by the rich for the rich.
Labor is
promising 83 billion pounds in investments and Corbyn intends to raise that
money from large companies and wealthy citizens and place it in a "social
transformation fund," the likes of which the country has never seen. The
north, in particular, would profit from the fund. The policy is popular among
large swathes of the population, but it doesn't seem like Corbyn will ever be
able to implement it. No matter what he promises, Corbyn's promises are
overshadowed by Labour's stance on Brexit.
Following
the election, Corbyn wants to negotiate a soft Brexit with the EU and then put
it to a new referendum, with the option of calling off Brexit altogether. Many
voters in London and southern England were thrilled when Corbyn finally
announced his position, but in Labour's northern heartland, many feel betrayed.
Here, people don't want Corbyn's billions. They want to leave the EU, even if
it will presumably make their lives even worse.
Labour
politician Lisa Nandy, a determined 40-year-old who represents Wigan in
Westminster, says the region has too often been ignored by politicians. That
Brexit has become a touchstone for voters on whether they can believe anything
politicians say. "Now, talking about a People's Vote suggests to those
people, in towns like mine, that they're not people and their votes don't
count," Nandy says, and she can't imagine what would happen if Brexit were
simply called off. When she knocks on doors to campaign, she is often simply
told to "go away," she explains. "But they don't mean Labour,
they mean politics."
The first
warning signs came with the European election in May. In Wigan, anti-EU
populist Nigel Farage's Brexit Party triumphed in Wigan with 41 percent of the
vote. Labour, meanwhile, which had won every parliamentary election here for a
century, ended up in second place.
'Ready for
a Civil War'
Boris
Johnson now wants to take advantage of this political shift. He has also
promised money to the north, with a "towns fund" meant to bring
millions into the coffers of the poorest cities - though a surprising number of
the cities in question are not all that poor, but they are governed by
Conservatives. Above all else, though, Johnson is enticing people with the
promise of pushing his Brexit deal through parliament before Christmas. He has
described it as an "early Christmas present."
It is a
bizarre reversal of circumstances. While Corbyn's traditional class-war
rhetoric is no longer resonating with core Labour voters, Eton-alumnus Johnson
is selling himself as a friend to northern workers.
But will
that be enough? In Wigan at least, it's hard to find people who will admit to
supporting Johnson. Most of them are more like Maggie, who visits the Sunshine
House almost every day with her cane. She says, "I voted Labour my whole
life, but now I'd rather not." Why not? "In a word: Corbyn." So
she's planning on voting for Johnson? "No, definitely not." It is an
echo of Daryl and many of the other people one meets these days on Wigan's
streets. For almost all of them, this election is an ordeal.
The
decisive factor on December 12 will be whether the Brexit Party will once again
be able to fill this vacuum - and whether they will do more damage to Corbyn or
Johnson.
For Jordan
Gaskell, there is no question: "We must get rid of the Labour
traitors!" Gaskell, a scrawny 16-year-old student who speaks like he is
plugged into an electrical socket, has attained a kind of fame in the region.
In a neighboring city, he founded the "Leavers of Leigh," and now
walks through the region every week with his supporters. Sometimes, in the heat
of the moment, they burn an EU flag. People have nicknamed him the "caped
crusader" because he likes to wear a UK flag.
Over a hot
chocolate, Gaskell talks himself into a rage in minutes. "You must accept
the will of the people." He believes the country needs to leave the EU by
January 31 at the latest. Recently, he says, a beggar had returned a 50- and a
20-pence coin that Gaskell had dropped in his hat during a protest. "He
wanted to spend it for our cause."
He argues
that after three-and-a-half years of Brexit frustration, nobody should be
mistaken: "The people up here are ready for a civil war." He says
they are simple, honest people who have become sick of it all. "People
aren't born radical, they become radical when you ignore them."
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