Once upon a payslip, passed hand to hand, little men laboured across the land. They mattered, well, not in a lasting sense, but the lie did dwell in a pension’s pretence. The twentieth century, blackened by design, made pain productive, pressed lives into line. You were the worker, the state’s own gear, an engine fed on sweat and fear. Now look around, no banner, no role, just offers and bundles to fill the hole. You’re not the machine, neither plan, nor key, just a buy two, and get one free.
You see back then, they built the post-war world on a simple idea: don’t let the markets off the leash or they’ll bite your face off. So, we got unions, welfare, nationalised railways that worked once every three Tuesdays, and a social contract that said: “You work, you eat, you occasionally afford socks.”
But then, like the “I Know Computers” Guy at work, enter Thatcher and Reagan, and a few right clicks later, you’ve got more trojans than a pop-up horse dealer in Troy – cash only, no returns.
Deregulate the markets? Yes. Smash the unions? With pleasure. Privatise the soul of a nation? Don’t mind if I do. The whole premise began to pivot, you no longer mattered because you made things, but because you bought them. You became nothing but your purchases as your credit limit became the affine texture boundary to your dreams.
Post-war UK saw housing as shelter, not investment. 20 years, single income, it was just a stage of life. Now, houses, sorry, “assets”, – which btw, are so cheaply made that they’re basically constructed out of a few cereal boxes and a Pritt stick, carry life-sentence mortgages. Because as mortgage markets were liberalised, and a generation saw their homes become vehicles for wealth accumulation rather than places to live, the next generation was left fighting over a Polly Pocket.
Even the high street banks are renting now, but its ok, because we got sliders instead. As credit also became a thing. – What was once relatively rare and usually reserved for large, durable purchases, credit was reframed as empowerment, with financial tools now embedded directly into consumption itself.
Want a coffee? It’s fine, don’t worry about it, just pop it on a credit card. – It’s a ‘tomorrow you’ problem, when you can be armed with a payday loan. Exchanging affordable for manageable, as you spread the cost of your work commute on Klarna. Ever borrowing against a future you’ll never own.
Because that was the change, you don’t own anything. Everything is either on subscription or finance, the second you stop paying, what do you actually own?
Marx believed capitalism would collapse because it relied on workers for value while exploiting them. And as competition would continue to cut wages and concentrate wealth, society would polarize into owners and workers, making conflict and collective action inevitable. But, instead, somewhere between crumbling unions and stagnated wages, we exchanged democratic control and collective bargaining for the freedom of individuality, and the freedom to be disposable.
The working-class is now just the consumer-class. Dreams but a cart abandoned mid-aisle, exchanged for loyalty points and a discount code for 20% off scented candles, for a house that’s on fire.
But it’s OK, you never owned it anyway.
Welcome to late capitalism. Please insert your card.
Can I have your email address for the receipt?
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