Explainer
Comment
Economics
6 min read

Paying for dignity lets life flourish

The Real Living Wage is the pragmatic way to safeguard the dignity of workers. Campaigner Ryan Gilfeather explains how it takes away the barriers to flourishing lives.

Ryan Gilfeather explores social issues through the lens of philosophy, theology, and history. He is a Research Associate at the Joseph Centre for Dignified Work.

At twlight, the lit office windows of two tower blocks contrast with a darkening sky
Night in London's financial district. when many cleaners work.
CGPGrey, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Christians have been at the heart of the campaign for the Real Living Wage since the movement began in 2001.  Alongside other faith and community groups, Christian leaders in East London noticed that so many people in their communities were paid so little that they had to work two jobs just to get by. These workers had to choose between feeding their children and seeing them. They did not even have time to go to church or pray. Christians have objected to poverty wages ever since because these wages deny the inextinguishable dignity of each person; their faith drives them to campaign for wages sufficient for the means of life 

The Real Living Wage is the minimum hourly pay rate someone needs to earn to be able to afford the means of life if they work full time. That’s £11.95 in London; £10.90 everywhere else. It’s calculated by the Resolution Foundation; a policy think tank that focuses on improving outcomes for people on low and modest incomes.  

A campaign run by The Living Wage Foundation encourages employers to agree to pay all their workers this amount.  

It is not to be confused with the so-called National Living Wage, which mandates by law that all workers 23 and older be paid £10.42 an hour.

Since we are all fundamentally equal, we all deserve the same dignity. This dignity involves allowing all to flourish in the ways a human being should. 

Many Christians support the Real Living Wage because the Bible leads them to believe that every single human being shares the same fundamental dignity and value. As the story of creation says, everyone is made in ‘the image of God.’ Nothing is of greater value than God, so no thing in this world is more valuable than the image of God. Since we are all fundamentally equal, we all deserve the same dignity. This dignity involves allowing all to flourish in the ways a human being should, for example health, faith, family relationships and opportunities for children.  

As each year passes, the way to safeguard the dignity of all in relation to work changes. Wages and working conditions change over time. When positive patterns emerge Christians praise and support them, but when insidious structures emerge, they challenge them. Safeguarding the inherent dignity of all human beings requires moral pragmatism. It demands that Christians always consider which changeable means can help attain the unchanging goal of human dignity.  They see the Real Living Wage as a pragmatic way of safeguarding what the Bible teaches about human dignity, because poverty wages compromise it.  

Poverty wages undermine workers’ ability to flouring in faith, health, family relationships, and opportunity for their children. 

Voices of those on poverty wages reveal its damaging effects. In December 2022, a church in the heart of London’s financial district,, St Katherine Cree, hosted a carol service in English, Spanish and Portuguese. The intended congregation were not financiers but cleaners. Alongside singing carols and listening to bible readings, the service included testimonies from cleaners and their families, expressing their sense of life and faith. These testimonies exposed how poverty wages undermine workers’ ability to flouring in faith, health, family relationships, and opportunity for their children. 

The root of the problem is that poverty wages cause severe overwork. Maritza, a one-time cleaner earning poverty wages and now a manager at Clean for Good, a cleaning company which pays the Real Living Wage, recalls:  

"I went through a very difficult time in my life – having to bring up my children on my own, and earning so little money. I had to work such long hours."  

Whilst Toyin, a community organiser and child of a cleaner earning below the living wage, speaks of how their mother ‘worked two jobs, seven days a week’ simply because her ‘job does not pay enough.’ Low paid workers often work incredibly long hours to earn enough to feed their children. These long hours and overwork then get in the way of these workers flourishing in other aspects of their life. 

Such overwork compromises faith. Maritza explains that: “In this time of hardship, I lost my faith.” Toyin’s account expands on why Maritza and others have this experience.  

“The people that I work with are affected because having more than one job does not allow them to find the time to go to church or even pray.”  

For Christians, going to Church and praying underpin an individual’s faith. When poverty wages necessitate long and often unpredictable hours, they prevent people from exercising their religious belief and identity in these ways. Hence, one of the experiences of workers which led to the real living wage campaign was that overwork and Sunday working meant there was little time left for churchgoing or the other practices of faith. Aspects of life that having discretionary free times allows us to do. 

Severe overwork damages the mental health of cleaners. Toyin suggests that an inability to spend time with family and practice their religious beliefs “has affected their mental health and well-being.” Research shows how widespread this phenomenon is. 69 per cent of below living wage workers report that their pay negatively affects their anxiety. Thus, poverty wages force conditions which damage workers’ health. 

Under these conditions, workers find it difficult to make advance plans, even for events as important as their children’s birthday parties.

Conditions of poverty and overwork undermine family relationships. Maritza explains that,  

‘‘I had to work such long hours that my children saw very little of me."

Toyin fleshes this point out.  

"My mother was not paid a real living wage which meant I missed out on time with my mother which I resented as I didn’t understand her sacrifice at the time… The people that I work with are affected because having more than one job does not allow them to find the time to… provide the time, love and support to their families."  

Cleaners often work such long hours at inconvenient times of the day that they are simply unable to see their children enough to nurture that relationship. To make matters worse, these hours are often highly unpredictable. 50 per cent  of workers earning less than the real living wage receive less than a week’s notice for shifts, and 33 per cent have experienced unexpected cancellations. Under these conditions, workers find it difficult to make advance plans, even for events as important as their children’s birthday parties. It is no surprise, therefore, that 48 percent of workers earning less than the real living wage say that their wage has negatively affected their relationship with their children. Poverty wages force workers to choose between spending enough time with their children and having enough money to provide for them. 

Poverty wages erode educational outcomes for children. Toyin explains that some parents find it harder to support children in their education.  

"When I was younger, my mother worked two jobs, seven days a week which meant she was not able to help me with my schoolwork, come to school assemblies and other family needs."  

Since parental support increases the child’s educational attainment, these children are left vulnerable to worse educational outcomes. Furthermore, it forces children into unofficial caring roles. 

"There are also families where children have to care for their younger siblings, cook, clean and play the role of the parent due to their parent not being paid a living wage." 

The pressures of this role distract from a child’s education and compromises their ability to reach their full potential. Poorer educational outcomes for children living in poverty is well documented. According to the National Education Union, ‘Children accessing Free School Meals are 8% less likely to leave school with 5 A*-C GCSE grades than their wealthier peers.’ A lack of parental support and the burden of caring responsibilities are likely a contributing factor. 

Christians see how poverty wages compromise the inherent dignity of these workers by restricting their ability to flourish in faith, health, family relationships and opportunities for children. They also notice that these problems are widespread: the Resolution Foundation found in 2021 that about one in five jobs in the UK pay below the Real Living Wage. They believe that the Real Living Wage is the pragmatic way to safeguard the dignity of these workers, because it will take away the barriers to their flourishing. That is why Christians continue to campaign for the Real Living Wage, and why increasing numbers of Christian employers insist on paying fair wages. In this way, the belief that all are made in the image of God leads Christians pursue a world in which safeguards every person’s dignity and worth.  

Article
Comment
Education
Language
6 min read

Cutting language learning is a moral failure

Learning someone’s tongue is a deeply humble and empathetic act
A check list shows 'thank you' in different languages.

When you go abroad, how do you navigate language differences? Do you just stick everything through Google translate? Or put a few weeks into Duolingo before you go? Or maybe you just speak a bit louder in the hope that that will somehow smooth over any misunderstandings? 

Recently, my wife and I went to Italy for a week. Neither of can speak a word of Italian and we were taking our toddler Zachary with us (who can speak even less Italian), so we booked into a big resort where we knew staff would be able to speak some English if we needed anything for Zach. Even so, we tried learning a few words and phrases:  

‘please’,  

‘thank you’,  

‘could I have …?’,  

‘where is the …?,  

‘please forgive my toddler, he hasn’t learned to regulate his emotions yet’. 

That sort of thing. Just some basics to get by.  

Of course, what happened was exactly what happens every time I speak another language. I try my best to make an effort, people immediately realise I’m a struggling and they put me out of my misery by replying in English anyway.  

All this reinforces the importance of deep and rigorous language learning in society. All this makes the continued diminishment of university modern language programmes rather odd, and more than a little unsettling.  

The University of Nottingham has announced it is terminating the employment of casual staff at its Language Centre. This will see the end of numerous classes for students and others in many languages, both ancient and modern, including British Sign Language.  

Nottingham is not alone in this. The news comes in the immediate aftermath of a review into the University of Aberdeen’s decision to scrap modern language degrees in 2023, which found the decision “hurried, unstructured, and dominated by immediate financial considerations.” (Not that we needed a review to tell us this). The University of Aberdeen has partially reversed the decision, continuing its provision of joint honour degrees, if not single honour language degrees.  

Elsewhere, in January, Cardiff University announced plans to cut 400 academic staff, cutting their entire modern language provision in the process. In May, the University revealed that it would reverse these plans, with modern languages continuing to be offered (for now), albeit it a revised and scaled-down manner. 

The situation is bleak. As a theology lecturer who works for a Church of England college, I’m all too aware of the precarity my friends and colleagues in University Arts and Humanities departments face across the sector. But I was also naïve enough to think that languages might be one of the subjects that would be able to survive the worst of education’s deepening malaise given their clear  importance. How wrong I was. 

There are the obvious causes for despair at the news of language department cuts. One the one hand is the human element of all this. People are losing their jobs. Moreover, as casual workers, the University had no obligation to consult them about the changes or provide any notice period, and so they didn’t, because why would a university demonstrate courtesy towards its staff unless it absolutely had to? As well as losing jobs and whole careers, people will lose sleep, and perhaps even homes and relationships as a direct result of the financial and emotional toll this decision will take on staff. My heart breaks for those effected.  

And yet, the move is also evidence – as if more were needed – of the increasing commercialization of Higher Education. A statement from the University said the decision to cut languages in this way was the result of the Language Centre not running at a “financial surplus.” The cuts will instead allow the University to focus on “providing a high-quality experience for our undergraduate and postgraduate students.” 

And there we have it. Not even a veneer of pretence that universities operate for the pursuit of truth or knowledge. No, nothing so idealistic. A university is business, thank you very much, here to offer an “experience”. And when parts of businesses become financially unsustainable, they’re tossed aside. 

Languages aren’t just ways of describing the world we see, they’re also ways of seeing the world in the first place. 

But cutting language offerings isn’t just a personal and a societal loss, it’s also a huge spiritual and moral failure. And that’s because of what language fundamentally is. Let me explain.  

It can be tempting to think of words as simply ‘labels’ we assign to objects in the world, with different languages using a different set of ‘labels’ to describe the same objects. As a native English speaker, I might see something with four legs and a flat surface on top and call it a ‘desk’. Someone else with a different native language might call it a Schreibtisch, or a bureau‚ or a scrivania, or a tepu, or a bàn làm việc. You get the point: we might be using different labels, but we’re all ‘seeing’ the same thing when we use those ‘labels’, right? 

Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Languages aren’t just ways of describing the world we see, they’re also ways of seeing the world in the first place. As such, languages have the capacity to shape how we behave in response to the world, a world itself suggested to us in part by our language(s). As twentieth-century philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein once wrote, “the limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” 

Let me give you just one example. English distinguishes tenses: past, present, future. I did, I do, I will do. Chinese does not. It expresses past, present, and future in the same way, meaning past and future feel as immediate and as pressing as the present. The result of ‘seeing’ the world through a ‘futureless’ language like this? According to economist Keith Chen, ‘futureless’ language speakers are 30 per cent more likely to save income compared to ‘futured’ language speakers (like English speakers). They also retire with more wealth, smoke less, practice safer sex, eat better, and exercise more. The future is experienced in a much more immediate and pressing way, leading to people investing more into behaviours that positively impact their future selves, because their view of the world – and their future selves’ place within the world – is radically different because of their language. 

Different languages lead to seeing the world differently which leads to differences in behaviour. In other words, there are certain experiences and emotions – even certain types of knowledge and behaviours - that are only encounterable for those fluent in certain languages. And this means that to learn another language is to increase our capacity for empathy. Forget walking a mile in someone’s shoes, if you want truly to know someone, learn their language.  

In my day job as a lecturer, when I’m trying to encourage my students – most of whom are vicars-to-be – to learn biblical Greek and/or Hebrew, I tell them it will make them more empathetic people. It may make them better readers of the Bible, it may even make them better writers too but, more than anything else, students who learn languages will be better equipped to love their neighbour for having done so. They will get a better sense of the limits of their world, and a greater appreciation for the ways in which others see it too. Show me a society that is linguistically myopic, and I’ll show you one that’s deeply unempathetic. I can guarantee you of that.   

We ought to be deeply, deeply concerned about the diminishing language offerings in the UK’s Higher Education sector. To open oneself to other languages is to open oneself to other ways of seeing the world. It is to be shown the limits of one’s own ways of seeing. Learning a language is a deeply humble and empathetic act. And isn’t humility and empathy in desperately short supply at the moment? 

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