A recent change in the Civil Service’s internship scheme to restrict entry to exclusively admit ‘working-class’ applicants has reignited my interest in examining one of the biggest culture shocks that I experienced when I moved to the UK some six years ago, one that I find is one of the leading cultural issues holding the UK back in terms of individual ambition and growth.
George Orwell once described Britain as ‘the most class-ridden society under the sun’. While this preoccupation may seem innocuous – gently teasing a friend as acting ‘middle class’ is a common occurrence for many – Britain’s obsession with a highly aestheticised conception of social class betrays a deeper cultural snobbery. According to a YouGov poll, 56% of Britons self-identify as working class, whereas in reality 57% of the population live in middle class households. Only in Britain do you find people making six figures calling themselves working class, or where Rory Stewart – the former cabinet minister and current ‘centrist dad’ podcast host – engages in a whole host of absurd mental gymnastics, before defeatedly coming to the conclusion that he is indeed, ‘lower upper middle class’.
That Britain is a society with a unique preoccupation with one’s social class is perhaps not surprising. After all, it is a country where, due to its long period of political stability and gradual political evolution, one might still find remnants of feudal society in the form of an odd Earl or Viscount lounging around in their vast country estate. It is also the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution from which contemporary ideas of social class structures are written. From the unscrupulous capitalists and factory bosses to the honest, gritty, working-class labourers. But what is often lost in this romantic narrative is that the Industrial Revolution, for all its flaws, also marked a seismic leap in social mobility, a shift from feudal subsistence farming to wage-earning and urbanisation where old class structures were rewritten. In other words, it was about progress.
Today, that same spirit of ambition is treated with suspicion and is prevalent in all areas of society. Take education, for example. I experienced this firsthand as an international student in the UK. I was struck by how many of my peers insisted they were from working class backgrounds, despite lifestyles that showed otherwise. There was open disdain for students who went to private school, whose original sin was to have parents who had the audacity to want the best education for their children and to have had the temerity to pay for it. It didn’t seem to matter whether these parents made sacrifices or weren’t especially wealthy. The fact that they dared to exercise their right to choose the best education they could for their children in spite of the Government was enough to invite contempt.
This stands in stark contrast to my upbringing in Hong Kong. There, no one cares if you went to a private school. Why would they? The city has a robust system of selective state schools — a concept the UK seems allergic to. In Hong Kong, telling someone that you were privately educated might get you a shrug and a ‘good for you’, because there was no question as to whether you deserved your place at university if you had the grades to back it up. In the UK, you risk becoming a social pariah, a cheat benefitting from a ‘pay-to-win’ system. Entire student societies, like the 93% Clubs dotted around university campuses, view receiving a state education as a key cornerstone of their identity, as if having gone to a state school confers some sort of moral superiority or authenticity.
In a way, I don’t blame them. They are getting a raw deal where their ability to study their way into a selective school where their academic talents can be nurtured is being systematically restricted. They are being forced to look on in envy while their privately educated counterparts flourish, unencumbered by such restrictions. All because of Whitehall control freaks swayed by leftist ideologues who prize equality of outcomes over opportunities in education.
By eliminating selective schools and punishing private ones with VAT, the Government is shrinking the ladder of opportunity. Middle- and lower-middle-class families who stretch to pay private school fees now find themselves priced out as small-scale private schools operating under razor-thin margins are forced to close. State schools — already underfunded and overstretched — must absorb even more pupils, making private education a preserve of the very well-off. This forces more students to rely on state education and further exacerbates differences in outcomes between state and private schools, fuelling even more resentment and division while destroying independence in favour of dependence on the state.
Returning to the example of the Civil Service, the Government justifies this as encouraging people from ‘lower socio-economic backgrounds’, judged by their parent’s occupation. In practice, this policy is confused at best, performative at worst. After all, the professions defined as working class include train drivers earning upwards of £80,000 a year, much more than the average wage of traditional middle-class occupations, such as white-collar middle managers.
It seems therefore that the Government’s definition of class – much like the rest of the ‘objectively-middle-class-but-self-identifies-as-working-class’ cultural and political establishment – is not that of income but of aesthetics. At a time of economic stagnation and with Reform UK challenging the Labour Party’s traditional voter base, the Government is turning its back on New Labour ideals of delivering opportunity through markets, in favour of resurrecting romanticised notions of working-class authenticity.
This cultural rot – the vilification of aspiration and the glorification of dependence – must be challenged before it is too late. Somehow, instead of being an aspirational lifestyle that many before have worked hard to attain for the benefit of their families, being called ‘middle class’ has come to be a slur in Britain. It shouldn’t be. Wanting a better life, a better education or private healthcare when the NHS is stretched to breaking point should be normalised and indeed encouraged.
Most citizens are quite rightly dismayed by others draining public money by exploiting the benefits system. Paradoxically, they also see dependence on government services in areas such as education and healthcare as virtues. Of course, being an unashamed benefits cheat is manifestly different from using public services that we pay for through taxation, but the point still stands: why are we unhappy with people who drain public resources by receiving benefits when they can work and be independent, but are also unhappy with people who pay for their own education or healthcare instead of relying on state provision?
Something has gone really wrong when people campaign to abolish private education or when the Prime Minister declares on national television that he would rather his family die of illness than resort to private healthcare. There must be a societal and cultural recognition that reliance on public services is no virtue. Having the means to independently access private education or healthcare should not be a source of shame.
Ribbing someone for acting ‘middle class’ might seem harmless, but it reflects a deeper societal malaise. It suggests that ambition is elitist, that aspiration is betrayal, and that any move toward improvement is suspect. And as these attitudes increasingly shape policy, the UK risks locking itself into cultural and economic decline.
If the UK is to change course from its present stagnation, we must learn to embrace aspiration rather than punish it. Working class pride should be celebrated. It teaches hard work, grit and determination. People should be proud of their working-class backgrounds. They have come far in life, which makes their earned middle-class lifestyle all the more rewarding. It becomes farcical when it devolves into performative cosplay that fakes authenticity, obstructs mobility and castigates aspiration. A fundamental reassessment of our attitudes towards class is sorely needed.
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This piece reflects the author’s views, not necessarily the entire magazine. We welcome a range of pro-liberty perspectives. Send us your pitch or draft.
