Talent doesn’t care where you come from. The creative industry does. From school stages to audition rooms, working-class artists are up against a system that was never built for them — and has no real interest in changing. We disagree.

Recently, I finished watching the second series of The Nightmanager, a nail-biting thriller series by the BBC. It features some greats of British film and television, with Tom Hiddleston, Hugh Laurie, Olivia Colman and Tom Hollander in leading roles. While there is no doubt about their incredible talent and ability to tell stories of complex characters, a closer look at the backgrounds of all four actors reveals their middle to upper-class upbringings, private school education and early access to the industry. While these similarities may be coincidental for this particular cast, a look into some national statistics quickly shows that a more privileged background is far from uncommon among UK actors. 

Last December, former Coronation Street actress Sally Lindsey was honoured with an MBE for her services to acting in the UK. When accepting her award, she stated that she “would like to dedicate this award to the rest of the 8% of working class people who make up my industry and hope in the future there will be many more of us.” 

That 8% figure is striking – but who, exactly, counts? There isn’t a clear-cut definition of who is working class, middle or upper class. Some define it by heritage, accent and education, others by income and cultural style. Statistics from the Social Mobility Barometer (2021) suggest that self-definition plays perhaps more of a role in understanding class than simply comparing it with a wage bracket. What is clear, however, is that the UK is still a little more obsessed with the matter than its European counterparts. In continued discussions about a socio-economic descriptor, it becomes clear that class matters. And related to the arts, it bears a poignant omen that is not new. 

Nearly ten years ago, Carole Cadwalladr highlighted in an article for the Guardian that 67% of Oscar winners and 42% of Bafta winners went to private school. In her article, she acknowledged that it’s not about “posh-bashing”. Instead, it’s a much deeper and wider issue, and improvements to the dire future prospects for working-class creatives certainly don’t include blaming nepo babies, middle- or upper-class artists. 

Although I don’t have the solution for this glaringly obvious inequality, I know it’s closely linked to the state of UK society and the widening gap between the rich and poor. Cadwalladr similarly points out that “[…] what has happened in acting and therefore what we see on our screens is intimately connected to what is happening in Britain. Acting, culture, identity, representation and politics are all inextricably entwined. The actors on our screens, the dramas that are commissioned, the way we view ourselves, the politicians we vote for, our ability to empathise with people from other parts of our culture, are all of a piece. Can it really be just a coincidence that the upper echelons of acting and government are dominated by Old Etonians?”

So what is happening at the top of the river that prevents most working-class artists from even getting on the water let alone making  a life from it? According to some, access is just one of many blockers working-class artists face. Eddie Marsan, who starred in films such as Sherlock Holmes and Mission Impossible III, highlights that the inequalities run a lot deeper than mere lack of access and that gatekeepers still prefer to hire their own – suggesting an enduring obsession with upper-class actors, regardless of talent: “If you want to be an actor in this country, and you come from a disadvantaged background, you have to be exceptional to have a hope of a career,” he says. “If you come from a privileged background, you can be mediocre.” 

That’s indeed a bleak outlook for any working-class artist hoping to make a living from their craft. It’s also something I’ve felt over and over again myself. No matter how talented and hard-working you are, if you haven’t got the connections and financial backing, you’d better find a backup job, because practically all of the seats at the table are already taken. 

But it’s not just actors for film and stage who are affected. Other disciplines within the creative industry are feeling the impact of the class divide, too. Recently, Kate Nash, who’s been active in the UK music industry for over 20 years, spoke in Parliament to address the issues that even artists with her fame and legacy face. The Foundations singer said she lost £26.000 on her tour, had to lay off staff because of rising costs, and is selling pictures of her bum on the internet to fund her art. Coming from a working-class background herself, she argued that “music should not be exclusive, it’s for all, and it becomes an issue of class, it becomes an issue of race, gender and sexuality and identity, because the doors are closing on who can choose to take that kind of risk.”

In the end, it also comes down to the basics, such as affordability and representation in schools. But with many schools favouring core subjects and pushing courses in dance, drama and music to the sidelines, the chance for under-privileged children to be exposed to them is diminished. As Marc Simpson, a professional clarinetist put it: “Access to the entry-level stuff has got to be free or affordable, because otherwise someone like me just wouldn’t know it existed, or get involved in it.”

And it doesn’t stop there. Even if there is passion and drive to continue on the artistic path as a working-class youngster, an expensive reality check awaits after secondary school. Visual artist Larry Achiampong explains that “Access to higher education for the working classes in the arts is increasingly becoming an impossibility. When you look at the rates that people must pay to get on degree-level courses (and above), it’s no wonder that many drop off during said courses or even afterward should they graduate. The game is rigged.”

The facts are glaringly obvious, but what’s the impact on the artistic landscape of the UK? Personally, I think it’s a very worrying picture that paints a daunting future for our society. The lack of regard for art from “normal people” from a modest financial background is depriving history of some of the most genuine and raw experiences of modern life. Who, other than working-class people, could give a more realistic and more relatable account of what life feels like in the depths of a capitalist and often exploitative system which favours the rich and abandons the poor? How can we consume art by the select elite who is so far removed from the struggles of living from one measly pay cheque to the next? 

As with most things in life, there is enough to go around for everyone because the need for art – in whichever shape or form – will never cease to exist. Therefore, the demand for creatives from all socio-economic backgrounds to produce their art won’t dry up. The real problem? Access, visibility, funding and opportunities – based on fairness, ability and work ethic, not on elitist connections, private schooling or money.  

neun’s mission has always been to support the underdog, featuring voices who have a hard time being heard or are silenced altogether. As a working class writer who’s felt the limits and constraints of my economic background on my creative career, it’s not just the absurdity that my voice and my art matter less than those from someone having grown up more privileged. It’s also the fight for future generations who deserve to make a living from their art, regardless of class and socio-economic background, that lights a fire inside me. It’s a flame that hopes to attract other working class artists to speak up, connect and collaborate. Because as with so many things, strength lies in numbers.

Over the next two months, we will be focusing our conversations around working-class artists, their experiences, stories, struggles and successes. We’re here to learn from each other, to support and to call for change – long-lasting, sustainable change. Working-class art matters because it represents the masses, and not just the select few.