The myth of an overcrowded Britain suits our island psyche and this government – The Guardian

Britain is full. That vague but powerful assumption has shaped so much of our politics. From the Brexit campaign with its breaking point poster of a queue of migrants and refugees, and border-fixated home secretaries from Jack Straw to Priti Patel, to the regular immigration panics spread by newspapers to voters, the idea that these small islands have reached their maximum viable population has become hugely influential.

Its a convenient situation for the right. Blame for congestion and strained public services can be placed on population growth and migrants, rather than on our profoundly unequal patterns of land ownership and use or Conservative cuts in state spending. But the idea that Britain is full or too full already also appeals more widely: to some environmentalists, to people who like peace and quiet, and dislike cities or new housing developments, or think that being British is a privilege that needs protecting. A fear of overcrowding is deep in our island psyche.

And over recent decades the UK population has undeniably changed quite dramatically. Between 1981 and the beginning of the pandemic, it grew by more than a fifth, or about 12 million people. Meanwhile, the number of people visiting the UK also surged, almost doubling during the first two decades of this century. So many factors contributed to these increases from globalisation and the end of the cold war to EU membership and improvements in life expectancy that they seemed unstoppable. In British cities, where most of the influx took place, railway stations, restaurants, museums, schools and train carriages all got bigger.

How underpopulated those spaces have often been since the arrival of Covid-19. Lockdowns and anxiety about the virus do not fully explain the transformation. Far from having too many people, Britain may be in the early stages of a population decline and it may last longer than the pandemic.

One recent Friday evening in central London, with Omicron yet to spread much and the Christmas shopping and drinking season theoretically in full swing, the usually packed pavements of Oxford Street, Regent Street and Piccadilly Circus were dotted with people walking unobstructed in small groups, surrounded by empty space. As absent as the usual crowds were the usual foreign accents. The tourism body VisitBritain expects that the number of foreign visitors this year will be more than 80% below its pre-pandemic figure a much steeper fall than in comparable destinations such as France or Spain.

For Britain, where tourism is the fifth-largest sector of the economy and the source of a lot of national self-confidence, this is a big change even if it has been masked in places by an increase in domestic visitors. Yet the suspension of our status as a leading destination may be less significant than what is happening to our more permanent population. In 2020 alone, according to the Economics Statistics Centre of Excellence, the number of UK residents may have dropped by more than 1.3 million the largest fall since the second world war.

Other demographers estimate that there was a smaller fall or a tiny increase. But all agree that thanks to our terrible Covid death toll, a drop in the birthrate, and fewer EU and non-EU migrants after Brexit, the UKs population boom has come to an end. If and when the pandemic fades, there is little confidence that this growth will resume. Even before Covid, the birthrate was falling, and the long modern rise in life expectancy was stalling the latter almost certainly connected to Conservative austerity. Through Brexit and other policies, the Tories effectively promised a less crowded and less cosmopolitan country, and that is what they have created.

During the first lockdown, some people of all political persuasions relished the emptier, calmer streets. And with fewer foreign tourists, famous British places have felt more like meaningful national monuments and less like theme park attractions. Even the pompous plaza in front of Buckingham Palace had an atmosphere a sort of stoical Victorian grandeur when I found it almost deserted at dusk one day last summer.

But as with lockdowns, the appeal of this quieter country is wearing off. This years disruptive labour shortages are a sign that depopulation and consumerism are not completely compatible. In the longer term, we may also discover that living in a shrinking or static population is psychologically unsettling, even alarming. The last time Britains population stopped growing, in the mid-1970s and early 1980s, it was widely seen as a sign of national decline. When fewer people are choosing to live in a country, or to have children in it, that country feels less confident, and its prospects contract.

For now at least, many Conservative voters may not mind. Lots of them grew up in a postwar Britain with considerably fewer people, so they may feel that a return to those population levels is a restoration of the natural order. Alternatively, their opinions may not be that connected to social realities. During the Brexit referendum, the political journalist Stephen Bush visited Hull, and found that the issue that moves [Brexit] voters was Britain is full. Since the 1960s, the citys population had actually fallen by a seventh. Yet Hull still voted leave by two to one.

Conversely, the most pro-EU and pro-immigration parts of Britain are often the most densely populated, such as inner London. Many Britons who have actually experienced life on a crowded island seem to like it.

Its possible that the current population slump, like that of the 1970s and 1980s, will turn out to be temporary, ended by changes in economic and political conditions. But if it doesnt, life on our archipelago at the edge of Europe will gradually become very different. One day, we may look back with nostalgia at when Britain felt full.

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The myth of an overcrowded Britain suits our island psyche and this government - The Guardian