The arts have a class problem
The arts have a class problem. It’s a taboo topic that we rarely discuss with any real seriousness. Class remains one of the biggest dividers in our society— in fact, it’s a divide that’s only getting bigger— yet it’s something we’re reluctant to acknowledge.
We rightly talk about race and gender, but as the UK tries to shake off the class structure it was once so tightly bound to, class often goes under the radar. Strangely, though, we openly discuss privilege— ‘white privilege’, ‘male privilege’, or someone being a ‘nepo baby’. What does it say about us that we can talk about privilege but shy away from conversations about class? We don’t often explore the flip side of being a ‘nepo baby’ or discuss ways to balance privilege.
In some ways, focusing on privilege alone is counterproductive to addressing class. We punish or ostracise privilege, believing it helps close the class divide. Worse still, by strongly supporting the idea that certain groups experience absolute privilege— like ‘male privilege’— we fail to acknowledge the class divide within those groups. A man who went to Eton and a man who grew up in Easterhouse Glasgow, would have vastly different experiences of privilege.
Yet, when it comes to the arts in any form, we’re going backwards. The number of actors, musicians, and writers from working-class backgrounds has halved since the 1970s. There’s an assumption that we’re always making progress, yet here we are, worse off than we were 50 years ago.
This means that artistic directors are disproportionately from elite backgrounds, more likely to have attended private school than those in most other sectors. Class remains one of the biggest determinants of success in the arts— and this inequality is only growing.
Not only does this elitist system block working-class people from pursuing careers in the arts, but it also skews the stories we hear, limiting perspectives and making us all worse off for it.
One of my favourite actors, Stephen Graham, often speaks about class in the arts. Coming from a working-class background himself, he has done more than his fair share to raise awareness of this issue and champion actors who haven’t come through traditional routes. He rightly points out that not only is there an upper-to-middle-class monoculture in TV and film, but the way the working class is portrayed is often condescending— depressing, out of touch, and a pity exercise that fails to capture the reality of working-class life. As Graham notes, the humour, laughter and resilience of working-class families are rarely shown.
He’s absolutely right. Think of any mainstream TV or film portrayal of the working class, and you’ll likely come up with the same tired stereotypes— or even exploitative programmes like The Jeremy Kyle Show or Benefits Street, which have been considered ‘representation’ for years.
Stephen Graham often recalls how his guidance counsellor once told him a career as an actor would never work for ‘a kid like him’. But if he were a child today, would that conversation be any different? Would that teacher see things differently?
Because despite only 7% of UK children being privately educated, 43% of classical musicians and 47% of British actors nominated for or winning a BAFTA in the last ten years were privately schooled. The numbers rise even further in specialist arts institutions like conservatoires. The arts remains a viable career for some, but not for all— and the more concentrated it becomes, the less likely a working-class child is to think, I could do that. I could make a living as a musician.
Sam Fender, another artist whose work I admire, has spoken about how the music industry is ‘rigged’ against the working class. As a lad from South Shields, he often writes about the environment he grew up in and believes the industry is overwhelmingly upper middle-class. He points out that no matter how talented a songwriter may be, without the funds to tour, their work will never be heard— “because it’s rigged.”
Another example is Graeme Armstrong, the award-winning author of Young Team, a novel written in Scots and loosely based on his life in Airdrie. Armstrong describes what is essentially a class war in the arts. While studying for his PhD in Glasgow, he noticed the lack of working-class professors and lecturers in universities. Meaning that anyone can choose to write, you may not be able to make a living from I but in theory anyone can write a novel. Yet not anyone can produce critical theory.
As he puts it “the voices, the gatekeepers of truth and culture are all middle and upper class.”
This is deeply concerning. We can’t keep relying on individuals like Armstrong or actors like Stephen Graham to be the token ‘working-class’ voices, constantly having to highlight these issues.
There is, to some extent, an obvious solution: make the arts a viable career path for all. Generational wealth shouldn’t be the only way to access conservatoires, and a promising singer-songwriter shouldn’t have to quit because touring is financially impossible. Common Weal has long called for an Artists’ Income— a basic income allowing registered artists to pursue their careers without living hand to mouth.
““the voices, the gatekeepers of truth and culture are all middle and upper class.” ”
It’s depressing to think of all the incredible songs, performances, and books we’ve missed out on simply because of financial barriers. Even worse, what if the artists we admire today hadn’t made it? If The Beatles were born in today’s climate, would they have broken through?
Arts education in schools must also be prioritised. STEM subjects are undoubtedly important, but why should one career path be valued above another? The most prestigious private schools in the UK invest heavily in arts programmes, from music to drama. They may not have to navigate tight budgets like many public schools, but that doesn’t mean we cast them aside and leave them out of reach.
Of course, financial barriers aren’t the only issue— biases and geography also play a role. Setting up creative hubs across the country, rather than concentrating everything in a handful of elite locations, would ensure young people have access to the arts no matter where they live. Every country has artistic hotspots, and some level of migration for careers is inevitable— but we must lessen that burden.
Class matters. Its definition may have changed, and it may be harder to pin down, but it still exists, and it remains a barrier. As the arts industry narrows in terms of class and socioeconomic background, so too does the diversity of voices we hear and the stories we see.
Culture should have no gatekeepers— and its evolution should be open to everyone.
