There’s a lot to appreciate about Sam Fender, the musician who’s not only breathed life back into socially aware songwriting but has also brought attention to the harsh realities of austerity and even advocated for a ceasefire in Gaza before it became a popular cause. However, on a personal note, I’m immensely grateful he’s taken the heat off me as an online target. In his recent chat with the Sunday Times, Fender boldly tackled the rise of identity politics versus the focus on social class.
“We often discuss privileges—whether they’re white, male, or straight—but class is rarely mentioned,” Fender pointed out. “That’s partly what lures young guys to figures like Andrew Tate… Imagine telling a kid from a struggling town in Durham, who’s got nothing, that he’s privileged, while Tate promises him self-worth. That’s enticing.”
This viewpoint has stirred some controversy. Critics have accused Fender of wrongly framing a minority versus working class conflict, excusing misogyny due to economic hardship, and conjuring an unfounded narrative that kids in certain areas are being preached at about white privilege. While some arguments hold water—it’s not merely white boys from northern towns drawn to Tate’s rhetoric, but also youths of color from inner-city London—there’s a kernel of truth Fender taps into. The current wave of identity politics often sidelines class concerns, which the far right effectively exploits.
The working class, diverse in ethnicity and gender, often finds itself disconnected from identity politics, which has morphed into a separate agenda. Supporting one seems to mean ignoring the other. Data backs this up: Financial Times research shows that as more people see Democrats as advocates for marginalized communities, fewer believe they represent the working class.
Part of this issue stems from the right’s own take on identity politics, channeling socio-economic frustrations into racial grievances. Apparently, solutions like wealth taxes or education investment aren’t as alluring as silencing minority voices on social injustices. But here’s another problem: the narrative around privilege—whether straight, white, male, or cisgender—leaves little room for acknowledging the struggles of white men from working-class backgrounds. They’re either painted as villains or mere allies in a movement led by minorities, often without the nuance of including working-class men in the conversation.
Yet, in places like trade unions or housing campaigns, you’re unlikely to hear the privilege preaching Fender mentions. These arenas focus on tangible issues and foster conversations away from the social media echo chamber. Unfortunately, political party and union memberships have dwindled, and for many, online spaces are their main political engagement. This shift isn’t accidental.
Margaret Thatcher famously noted that economics are a means to change societal values. Economic policy shapes our self-perception, and while Tories never shied away from class inequality, their goal was to dismantle class consciousness. Decades of neoliberal policies—undermining unions, selling public housing, and dismantling industrial labor—were designed to fracture collective solidarity, leaving splintered identities ignorant of shared material realities.
These fractured groups now vie for recognition, often through online hostility. The need for attention is ingrained in us, but platforms like Instagram and TikTok capitalize on this, turning it into a relentless cycle of validation and insecurity.
On these platforms, others become rivals in a race for prominence and voice. This dynamic spills into politics, creating division where cooperation might thrive.
There’s a trend towards over-analyzing personal feelings. Whether it’s distress over all-white yoga classes or exaggerated claims of harm from activist language, identity politics sometimes sets a low bar for offense.
The attention economy encourages dramatizing minor issues, and the strong focus on lived experience makes challenging claims of victimhood difficult. The focus on personal identity and grievances often leads to resentment rather than seeking community-driven social change.
While individual experiences undeniably shape politics, focusing solely on the self can be limiting. Remember the story of Narcissus: excessive self-obsession doesn’t lead to fulfillment—it can lead to downfall.
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