In late twentieth-century England, inequality was rocketing, yet some have suggested that the politics of class was declining in significance, while others argue that class identities lost little power. Neither interpretation is satisfactory: class remained important to "ordinary" people's narratives about social change and their own identities throughout the period 1968-2000, but in changing ways. Using self-narratives drawn from a wide range of sources--the raw materials of sociological studies, transcripts from oral history projects, Mass Observation, and autobiography--the book examines class identities and narratives of social change between 1968 and 2000, showing that by the end of the period, class was often seen as an historical identity, related to background and heritage, and that many felt strict class boundaries had blurred quite profoundly since 1945. Class snobberies "went underground", as many people from all backgrounds began to assert that what was important was authenticity, individuality, and ordinariness. In fact, Sutcliffe-Braithwaite argues that it is more useful to understand the cultural changes of these years through the lens of the decline of deference, which transformed people's attitudes towards class, and towards politics. The study also examines the claim that Thatcher and New Labour wrote class out of politics, arguing that this simple--and highly political - narrative misses important points. Thatcher was driven by political ideology and necessity to try to dismiss the importance of class, while the New Labour project was good at listening to voters--particularly swing voters in marginal seats--and echoing back what they were increasingly saying about the blurring of class lines and the importance of ordinariness. But this did not add up to an abandonment of a majoritarian project, as New Labour reoriented their political project to emphasize using the state to empower the individual.

In late twentieth-century England, inequality was rocketing, yet some have suggested that the politics of class was declining in significance, while others argue that class identities lost little power. Neither interpretation is satisfactory: class remained important to 'ordinary' people's narratives about social change and their own identities throughout the period 1968-2000, but in changing ways. Using self-narratives drawn from a wide range of sources - the raw materials of sociological studies, transcripts from oral history projects, Mass Observation, and autobiography - the book examines class identities and narratives of social change between 1968 and 2000, showing that by the end of the period, class was often seen as an historical identity, related to background and heritage, and that many felt strict class boundaries had blurred quite profoundly since 1945. Class snobberies 'went underground', as many people from all backgrounds began to assert that what was important was authenticity, individuality, and ordinariness. In fact, Sutcliffe-Braithwaite argues that it is more useful to understand the cultural changes of these years through the lens of the decline of deference, which transformed people's attitudes towards class, and towards politics. The study also examines the claim that Thatcher and New Labour wrote class out of politics, arguing that this simple - and highly political - narrative misses important points. Thatcher was driven by political ideology and necessity to try to dismiss the importance of class, while the New Labour project was good at listening to voters - particularly swing voters in marginal seats - and echoing back what they were increasingly saying about the blurring of class lines and the importance of ordinariness. But this did not add up to an abandonment of a majoritarian project, as New Labour reoriented their political project to emphasize using the state to empower the individual.

The inter-war period (1918–1939) is still remembered as a period of mass deprivation – the 'hungry thirties'. But how did this impression emerge? Thousands of conversations about life in the inter-war period – between parents and children around the dinner table; among workmates at the pub – shaped these understandings. In turn, these fed into popular politics. Stories about the embryonic welfare system in the early-twentieth century informed how people felt towards the National Health Service; memories of the Great Depression shaped arguments about state intervention in the economy. Challenging accounts of widespread political disengagement in the twentieth century, Politics of the Past shows how re-telling family stories about the inter-war period offered ordinary people an accessible way of engaging in politics. Drawing on six local case studies across Scotland and England, this book explains how stories about the inter-war working-class experience in industrial areas came to appear commonplace nationwide.

In this rigorous study, Marcus Collins reconceives the Beatles' social, cultural and political impact on sixties Britain.

London, 1984 examines the history of London during the tumultuous 1980s. Against the backdrop of dramatic political and social change driven by Margaret Thatcher and the Conservative government, it explores the radical politics of the capital, tracing the impact of political and social changes on the lives of ordinary Londoners.

This book seeks to understand the complex ways in which the Foreign Office adapted to the rise of identity politics in Britain as it administered British foreign policy during the Cold War and the end of the British Empire. After the Second World War, cultural changes in British society forced a reconsideration of erstwhile diplomatic archetypes, as restricting recruitment to white, heterosexual, upper- or middle-class men gradually became less socially acceptable and less politically expedient. After the advent of the tripartite school system and then mass university education, the Foreign Office had to consider recruiting candidates who were qualified but had not been ‘socialized’ in the public schools and Oxbridge. Similarly, the passage of the 1948 Nationality Act technically meant nonwhites were eligible to join. The rise of the gay rights movement and postwar women’s liberation both generated further, unique dilemmas for Foreign Office recruiters. Diplomatic Identity in Postwar Britain seeks to destabilize concepts like 'talent', 'merit', 'equality' and 'representation', arguing that these were contested ideas that were subject to political and cultural renegotiation and revision throughout the period in question.

A uniquely data-rich analysis of the British elite from the Victorian era to today: who gets in, how they get there, what they like and look like, where they go to school, and what politics they perpetuate. Think of the British elite and familiar caricatures spring to mind. But are today’s power brokers a conservative chumocracy, born to privilege and anointed at Eton and Oxford? Or is a new progressive elite emerging with different values and political instincts? Aaron Reeves and Sam Friedman combed through a trove of data in search of an answer, scrutinizing the profiles, interests, and careers of over 125,000 members of the British elite from the late 1890s to today. At the heart of this meticulously researched study is the historical database of Who’s Who, but Reeves and Friedman also mined genealogical records, examined probate data, and interviewed over 200 leading figures from a wide range of backgrounds and professions to uncover who runs Britain, how they think, and what they want. What they found is that there is less movement at the top than we think. Yes, there has been some progress on including women and Black and Asian Brits, but those born into the top 1 percent are just as likely to get into the elite today as they were 125 years ago. What has changed is how elites present themselves. Today’s elite pedal hard to convince us they are perfectly ordinary. Why should we care? Because the elites we have affect the politics we get. While scholars have long proposed that the family you are born into, and the schools you attend, leave a mark on the exercise of power, the empirical evidence has been thin—until now.