Exodus, movement of the (young) people

There’s nothing, now, to ‘drop out’ from – the flight of so many young Europeans to the other side of the world is, instead, a ‘climb out’.

“Open your eyes and look within

Are you satisfied with the life you’re living?”

From Exodus, Bob Marley and the Wailers, 1977.

We have heard a lot recently about the number of millionaires leaving the UK. If the very wealthy decide to up sticks and leave, that should concern us all, as those with the highest income pay the most tax. Without their contribution – for which neither the government nor the public customarily express any thanks – the UK’s financial situation will become even more precarious than it is already.

However, I am more concerned by the loss of a different demographic – one which seems to be slipping under the radar. These are all the bright young things who see no prospect of a reasonable future in the UK, or indeed in continental Europe. They just don’t want to live here.

These young people may not be depriving the government of material wealth, yet – but they have education, a work ethic, imagination and a great deal of get-up-and-go. That they have chosen to do just that sends us a message that we cannot afford to ignore, if we want to have any hope of regenerating what was once an enlightened, creative and dynamic society.

Drop out or climb out?

I have just returned from Australia. We drove up the east coast, from Brisbane to Cairns, stopping at many small towns along the way. Everywhere, we were greeted, served and otherwise looked after by personable and capable young Europeans, most of whom have no intention of returning home, if that eventuality can possibly be avoided.

I am not writing about the kind who are dazzled by the bright lights of Dubai, or wowed by a six figure salary. I am not writing about ‘gap year’ students, or lost souls setting off to find themselves. I am not writing about those who want to ‘drop out’. I am writing about those who have consciously decided that, despite their best efforts, their home countries can no longer offer them the meaningful and worthwhile life that previous generations took for granted. In fact, these are the young people who want to return to a more real world, rather than escape it.

One articulate young man explained it to me succinctly. “There’s nothing now to drop out from. To drop out, you turn your back on a bright, shining future. This is a climb out from the wreckage”.

These are the young people who grew up just as the rules of the game – as they (and we) had understood them – changed across the board. The well-trodden path from university to a rewarding job and a meaningful life – the rite of passage from adolescence to adulthood – became instead a slippery game of snakes-and-ladders.

The employment endurance test

When I left university in the mid 1980s, the big accountancy companies would scoop up anyone who had not been offered a nourishing pint during the ‘milk round’ – the annual recruitment drive for the brightest and best, by the brightest and the best. Today, those jobs are like gold dust, rather than gold-top. There were plenty of other workable options, too, for those (like me) who preferred a less conventional path. That’s how I found myself ‘news tasting’ on the night shift in a London radio station.

Now, competition for entry level jobs is unimaginable for older generations, and many options no longer exist. Graduate numbers have ballooned, even as successive government policies have battered both the economy and opportunity. The absurd response to Covid turbocharged the loss of the personal, human element of hiring. It has even called into question the idea of ‘going to work’ at all.

Applications are now sifted by AI, so that a form submitted before going to bed can be rejected before dawn. A recent newspaper report explained, “if your CV [resumé] doesn’t contain the right keywords – or enough of them – your application could be cast aside before a human being even sets eyes on it” [1]. Even though the application might have taken many hours of preparation, with numerous hoops to be jumped through, apparently “many systems find it hard to understand context, which means they may miss transferable skills, career changes – or anything that doesn’t fit a strict pattern”.

Applicants are advised to use AI “CV checkers” but not to use AI, as recruiters will see straight through this, even as they recommend we research “to see what will please the bots”.

“Visually-creative CVs that would get a human’s attention only a few years ago may never get past the robot”, says Dr Clare Walsh, Director of Education at the Institute of Analytics (IoA). However, applicants are then asked to think about sending something personal as it is this “human connection” that can overcome the challenges faced by AI screening, as “thinking and acting differently is key to cutting through the noise”. The challenges of meeting these quite contradictory demands are obvious.

Lights on and everyone’s at home…

Even if this initial obstacle is overcome, the next several stages of recruitment are likely to involve the ‘asynchronous interview’ – a chance to talk to your own computer screen in the privacy of your bedroom, while unknown individuals ask questions which have to be answered against a ticking clock. Then, if you are really lucky, you might be offered a slot of several hours to war-game scenarios with unseen others, or spend an afternoon reducing a complex document to bullet points – then to be told you’ll know whether or not you got the job in six weeks’ time.

In the unlikely event that the young person is to be ‘onboarded’, then comes the legal bit. It is not unusual to receive contracts tens of pages long, accompanied by the company’s hand book of ‘behaviours’. Then there are the boiler-plated guides to diversity, equity (or equality) and inclusion – and all of this from someone whose pronouns are ostentatiously displayed despite being blindingly obvious.

And then the best bit. As a newly-inducted member of the lanyard-wearing classes, the hunt is on for somewhere to live, just as the number of homes available plummets. Every room for let leads to a queue around the block, and a possible inquisition about political views and dating intentions. Extortionate rent is required for one of six bedrooms in a house built with three, a forty-five minute ride from the office. This, of course, can be avoided by those who have the option to return once again to their childhood bedroom and commute from there.

In the UK, as soon as that salary starts being paid, there are then student loan repayments to be factored into monthly outgoings. This is the servicing of a large debt incurred through university fees and which attracts a rate of interest seemingly set to ensure that the debt is unlikely ever to be paid off. Graduates can therefore face an additional 9% tax for the duration of their working lives – primarily to support the increasing number of people who are not working at all. As a result, there is not enough left over to enjoy the perks of living in a great city. Those four walls – in the suburbs or a sub-let – are going to become very familiar.

Of course, there are plenty of young people who seem to take this in their stride. To my utter astonishment, many actively seek employment in the bloated public sector, because it is ‘safe’ and ‘secure’. Parents are complicit in this, nodding sagely as they observe ‘they’ll get a good pension’. Since when was this our highest aspiration for our children?

We can’t be surprised by the increasing group-think which is evident in our institutions, when we think about how off-putting all of this is to anyone with any ambition, imagination or a sense of adventure. Where is that belief in the infinite possibilities of life, and being able to make our mark in the world? And yet these are the young people whose energy and enthusiasm we need to harness, to drag us kicking and screaming out of the suffocating swamp in which we are currently all floundering.

‘I want to break free’

Australia shares many of the western world’s problems. So what are these east coast towns offering? It is, in fact, something which was not at all out-of-the-ordinary until recently. A chance for the independent-minded to live away from home, to share a house or flat with friends, and without it breaking the bank. The chance to find a job by handing your CV to a real person, and to work in an enterprise which is fun and different. It is the offer of an interview in person, and knowing the outcome within a few days. It is the chance to do something real and physical, alongside real people, and which is valued by employer and clients alike.

“I wanted to go somewhere where I can use various talents and skills, and these will be appreciated”, said a young British graduate, now in his third year in Australia. Many of these young people run a ‘side gig’ too. There is jewellery-making and photography; T-shirt printing and travel reviews. The entrepreneurial spirit is alive and well.

A young Italian said sadly, “I would go back to Italy tomorrow, if I could have the life I have here – but I can’t, and so I won’t”.

In another small Queensland town, a girl from Paris added, “France, as I know it, is finished. All the best things are gone”. Meanwhile, a young Frenchman is trying to persuade his family to emigrate – he misses them, but doesn’t want to go home. His sister has already joined him.

Progressive paralysis

Among all these young people was an overwhelming sense of the poisoning of all aspects of life in Europe by a heartless ‘progressivism’, in which an increasingly rigid ideology rules and there is no place for the individual or the original, the human or the practical. Most feared slow death by meaningless occupation – sitting in front of a screen all day, doing something of little value, while being mindful of ‘wrong think’, lest it cost them what little they have.

Variations on “I would rather live in a van here, and do what I love, than not be allowed to think, do or say at home”, came thick and fast at every stop. And then there’s also the opportunity to get away from it all, in a big country with plenty of space “where there isn’t always someone in the rear view mirror”.

This is not about escapism in the traditional sense – an opting out into an unreal fantasy life. This is about the reverse – the kind of escapism which is needed to rebuild reality from the untruths and fakery with which we have surrounded ourselves. These are young people who want to interact in person, use their minds, bodies and spirits, take their chances, feel the sun on their faces and connect with others.

I think of the closing lines of The Machine Stops, E M Forster’s prescient take on somewhere very close to where we are now:

“Man, the flower of all flesh, the noblest of all creatures visible, man who had once made god in his image, and mirrored his strength on the constellations, beautiful naked man was dying, strangled in the garments that he had woven. Century after century had he toiled, and here was his reward. Truly the garment had seemed heavenly at first, shot with the colours of culture, sewn with the threads of self-denial. And heavenly it had been so long as it was a garment and no more, so long as a man could shed it at will and live by the essence that is his soul and the essence, equally divine, that is his body” [2].

Too often it feels as if we are, indeed, witnessing the “last sloshy stirrings of a spirit that had grasped the stars”.

My trip up the Queensland coast tells me otherwise. Like the escapees from ‘the machine’, these fugitives from Europe hope to have ‘recaptured life’. They won’t accept being strangled by the garments we have woven. Adaptable, independent and innovative – we need to make it worth their while to come home before it is too late… or before the urge to join them becomes overwhelming.

[1] Shaw E, How to stop your CV getting screened out by bots, The Telegraph, 07 July 2024.

[2] Forster E M, The Machine Stops, 1959, Harrap.