Gerry Hassan: We’re a divided nation, despite what politicians say

Britain has changed dramatically since 1945. In most accounts of post-war Britain, from populisers such as Andrew Marr, the confident tale told is of the forward march of the classless society.

There were the 1950s and “you’ve never had it so good” affluence, the 1960s protests and music, the 1980s individualism and consumerism, and then the noughties, with the property and credit-card booms. This is the BBC-Ladybird Book guide to modern Britain heard in phrases such as “we are all becoming classless” and “everyone now is middle class”, which were cited by politicians in the boom.

The difficult times of recession, anger at bankers and global pessimism, has undermined this view. Despite this, mainstream politics operates on the assumption that the great British post-war project, of consumption, rising living standards for most and one jolly long party, can be kick-started. Out there in the real world, there is a palpable sense of foreboding and feeling this is delusional, and that the days of endless economic growth, rising incomes and prosperity may be gone for good.

Class tells us something about how we see all this, and it still matters. Class is different from income, wealth and status. Just because Britain is the fourth most unequal country in the developed world does not automatically tell us anything about class. Class is about something deeper: attitudes, values, “them” and “us”.

Class may have reconfigured in the last 30 years, but it is still seen in education, private schools, internships and access to insiders, which all help to reproduce class attitudes and privilege.

There is the way class is described. The super-rich are envied and feared by many. Whatever people feel of bankers and financiers, the lifestyles of the super-rich are fawned over; what is more alluring than the life of conspicuous consumption, super-yachts and multiple luxury properties? Forget the ethical life – this, to many, is the embodiment of “the good life”.

There is the demonisation of the working class, a class whose collective power was once feared by employers and politicians. There is talk everywhere of “chavs”, “neds” and “jakies”. And of middle class, institutional and professional opinion giving up, feeling exhausted and disillusioned about caring.

Then we have the profound lack of empathy and understanding in our society for how people can relate to those different from themselves. Research a few years ago on the super-rich found them clueless about normal life: there was a widespread feeling that median incomes in Britain, then at about £23,000, were poverty wages. These masters of the universe inhabited another planet. The poorest in society have become disconnected from society and labour markets, and condemned as “an underclass”.

There are cultural issues about how class is portrayed. The clichés and stereotypes of the BBC’s The Scheme showed a society where elements have forgotten the importance of compassion and human dignity. This sits in a whole genre of reality programmes going back to Wife Swap, which have become increasingly voyeuristic about how they portray class.

An important factor in this is the decline of trade unions. In 1980 there were 13 million trade unionists in the UK, representing 55 per cent of the workforce; that figure is now down to just seven million, representing 23 per cent. Trade unions were once a powerful force in this land, feared by governments and business. Today, the combined forces of Unison, Unite and the GMB holding a national strike in a month’s time is very different.

Class is dead to some. “The English working class is dead,” wrote Andrew O’Hagan, replaced by “the false promise of celebrity and credit cards”.

This is where Scotland and England part company, for 70 per cent plus of Scots identify as working class. Paradoxically, Scots now identify as more working class than they did 30 years ago. Working class became a negative term in England in the 1980s – sink estates, bog-standard comprehensives – whereas in Scotland it was associated with anti-Thatcherism, the national question and symbols of resistance.

The same terms 30 years on don’t mean the same thing, but we have to find new languages and terms to describe what is now a bitterly divided, fragile society, and not reduce everything to fear and loathing.

Our political parties don’t help. The Tories never simply represented the rich, or as one person said this week “the political wing of the City of London”, but have promoted a view of “Britain plc” for the global elites. The three UK party conferences showed how far British politics has been captured by this perspective, with each of them beholden to corporate interests and corporate groupthink.

George Osborne must think we live in Alice in Wonderland times when he dares to say about the Tories “we speak truth to power”, talking about bankers and Vickers. None of the three UK parties represent any more widespread social classes and collectives, but instead engage in one long manipulated focus group exercise to work out how to best package the dogmas they believe.

These are revolutionary times; of the coming economic and political crisis which is the responsibility of the failed model of market fundamentalism. Where are the mainstream voices reflecting the anger of the Occupy Wall Street protests and UK Uncut, and anxiety and worry of millions?

Politics in Britain and elsewhere over the next decade could change beyond recognition. Anger and anxiety will find voice and new platforms. Forces on the hard Right will play a xenophobic message, but new forces will form to express the realities of class which our mainstream has so conspicuously failed to do. We need a new kind of revolutionary politics, one that involves learning from the past mistakes of every revolution before. What we need to start is a counter-revolution against the masters of the universe and their numerous supporters in all the mainstream parties and public life.