Conservative MP Kemi Badenoch recently caused controversy by claiming that while she was born to a middle-class family, she “became working class” when working in McDonald’s to earn money while she was in college. In fairness to Badenoch, having a diversity of experience is an admirable attribute for an MP – something you wouldn’t associate with someone like recently deposed Tory MP Jacob Rees-Mogg for example.
Badenoch, who was born in the UK but spent the first part of her life in Nigeria before returning as a teenager, said her time at the fast food chain helped her understand the life of “single mothers” struggling to make ends meet – insight that might have made her object to the policies enacted by her government that made life harder for the working classes. She said of the job:
There’s a humility there as well. You had to wash toilets, there were no special cleaners coming in. You had to wash toilets, you had to flip burgers, you had to handle money.
Badenoch’s assertion – during her bid to become leader of the Conservative party – raises several interesting questions, not least whether you can “become working class”. Part of the issue is that class is increasingly hard to define in 2024.
Is class subjective and something that we feel (as Badenoch’s claim suggests) or is it something objective that we can measure? This is a question that has been troubling sociologists – and others – for years.
Want more politics coverage from academic experts? Every week, we bring you informed analysis of developments in government and fact check the claims being made.
Sign up for our weekly politics newsletter, delivered every Friday.
In social sciences, the most widely used measure of social class is the Office for National Statistics’ (ONS) national statistics socioeconomic classification (NS-SEC). It is also the measure used by the UK government, most notably to measure social mobility – the movement of people between classes.
The NS-SEC defines class by placing individuals in one of eight different classes according to their occupation. The scales runs from one (for higher managerial and professional positions) to eight (long-term unemployed).
The classes are further simplified into three categories of professional/managerial (1 and 2), intermediate (3 and 4) and working class (5 to 7). It’s a hierarchy but it also shows that there is no easily identifiable dividing line between classes. Examples of those in professional/managerial would include directors of major companies, those teaching in higher education and journalists. Those in intermediate professions include travel agents, police officers (sergeant and below) and hotel managers. Those in the working class would include farm workers, building site labourers and workers in the service industry, such as in McDonald’s.
Using the NS-SEC occupational coding tool, we can place both Badenoch’s parents (a GP and a professor) in social class 1. While she acknowledges that she is from a middle-class background, it is clear that both her parents occupy positions at the top of the social class hierarchy. As an MP, Badenoch herself is now also clearly social class 1. Her previous roles before entering politics, as a digital director for The Spectator and associate director at private bank Coutts return class 2 and 1 respectively. It is evident that Badenoch has lived, and continues to live, a very privileged, and middle-class, life. Given this, why would she claim to be working class?
The first thing to note is that Badenoch is not unique in citing a working-class identity of some kind. The prime minister, Sir Keir Starmer, is by now notorious for his frequent references to his father’s job as a toolmaker. Nigel Farage, leader of Reform UK, is also regularly photographed in pubs while drinking a pint and smoking a cigarette – something that sociologist Pierre Bourdieu would define as him attempting to evidence a working-class habitus, those tastes and behaviours that we typically associated with members of a particular social class.
The rationale for this is that Britain is quite unique in its perspective on class. People will often claim they are working class, or have working-class roots. This would be unheard of in other parts of the world, where claiming to be middle class is aspirational.
People in Britain will continue to claim they are working class even when evidence indicates that they are, and have been, middle class for several generations. This largely seems to be an inheritance of Britain’s history as an industrial country and the national obsession with “getting on” as well as a the country having a reputation for being particularly divided by social class. British people want to prove that they have been successful on merit rather than because of unearned privilege.
Large fries and a majority in 2029?
Britain’s changing political landscape is also an important part of the picture, as we look back at Badenoch’s McDonald’s career.
Throughout the 20th century the dividing line between political parties was evident. The working classes typically voted for the Labour party and the middle classes typically voted for the Conservative party. The dividing lines between political parties have become more complicated in the 21st century, particularly in the post-Brexit years; notably evidenced by Boris Johnson’s 2019 election win and the crumbling of the red wall.
This helps us understand why Badenoch would want to find a way to show that she is in touch with working-class people – and how she was able to do it, at least according to her own reasoning.
Votes are always on a politician’s mind – and the increasing willingness of voters to switch allegiances means more votes than ever are up for grabs. The nebulous nature of class and the difficulty we have in defining it, becomes the vehicle for appealing for those votes.
Badenoch’s claim that she became working class appears to be a longer-term strategy. She is looking ahead to the next election. Nevertheless, it seems difficult to argue that a short period working in McDonald’s made Badenoch working class. An adulthood of privilege also makes her claim rather insulting to those who, in her own words, struggle to make ends meet.
Michael Rees does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
