Three ways the geography of Britain’s exports has changed since 1841

Those were the days: Manchester cotton mills, 1936. Image: Getty.

It’s the 1840s: red bricks, smoky chimneys and big industrial mills. The introduction of the steam engine has resulted in radical improvements to the UK’s production of textile, metalwork and other manufacturing goods. The country is reaping the fruits of the industrial revolution; it is pursuing policies of free trade with the rest of the world and is the most powerful nation on earth.

Fast forward 175 years and much has changed since then. Historical data from the census gives us a broad sense of how the UK’s industrial structure has evolved over time, and what this means for cities.

In particular, the data shows that there are approximately five times (20 million) more jobs today than there used to be in 1841. However, three major changes have meant the UK’s present industrial structure is fundamentally different from that of the Victorian Age.

There has been a total shift from exports jobs towards employment in local services.

Back in 1841, export industries – i.e. those industries that sell outside the local economy to regional, national and international markets – accounted for 60 per cent of all private sector jobs in England and Wales. Around 175 years later, these industries only account for 25 per cent of all the jobs while the bulk of employment is now in local services such as in retail, leisure and construction. Indeed, while there has been a 14 per cent decline in ‘goods’ export jobs between 1841 and 2011, employment in local services grew by 800 per cent.

This shift is the result of huge increases in productivity. Technological improvements, globalisation and other structural trends have made the UK’s exporting sectors more productive, putting money in people’s pockets. As a result, demand for local services has increased, driving up employment in these sectors.


Within export jobs, services exports have become ever more important.

In 1841 the UK’s exporting sectors were dominated by manufacturing, with services jobs accounting for just 1 per cent of all exports jobs. Over the decades, technological improvements and globalisation have meant the UK has gradually shifted away from manufacturing and that the majority of today’s export jobs (59 per cent) are now in ‘services’, such as financial services, information & communication and other professional services.

But this is not to say the UK doesn’t make anything anymore. The aforementioned productivity improvements mean that the UK is still a big exporter of goods today – but it now requires fewer people to be employed in these industries.

The UK’s export economy has shifted South.

Led by London, cities in the Greater South East accounted for 11 per cent of all exporting jobs in 1841. Some 175 years later, these cities account for 30 per cent of all exporting jobs in England and Wales.

This shift of the export economy towards southern cities happened for two reasons. Firstly, cities in the Greater South East have been those best able to attract high-skilled exporting jobs. In these cities, between 1841 and 2011, growth in high-skilled exporting jobs has been twice as fast as in cities in the North and Midlands. Secondly, cities in the North and Midlands have experienced a large fall in their export base in the second half of the 20th century due to the decline in mining and manufacturing and have struggled to replace these jobs. Of the new exporting jobs they have created, these have tended to be in warehousing and call-centres rather than shifting towards exporting higher-value services.

As a result, between 1841 and 2011, cities in the North and Midlands have doubled their number of export jobs, but cities in the Greater South East have had a five times increase in export jobs since 1841.

Click to expand. Source: University of Portsmouth, ‘A vision of Britain through time’.

This is reflected in the experience of specific cities. Take Stoke and Brighton for example: the two cities now account for a similar amount of jobs, but at its peak in 1951 Stoke had three times more export jobs than Brighton. The city was renowned in the UK and internationally for its industrial-scale pottery manufacturing, but since the decline of this industry from the 1950s its economy has never fully recovered.

On the other hand Brighton did not have a strong manufacturing presence in the 1900s, and it played a much more marginal role in the national economy; but over the years the city has continued to grow by attracting high-skilled workers and businesses, and it is now one of the most successful cities in the country.

Click to expand. Source: University of Portsmouth, ‘A vision of Britain through time’.

The divergence in the performance of cities in recent decades has been the result of the varying performance of their exporting sectors. As the data shows, cities need to replace jobs in declining export industries with jobs in new – more productive – exporting sectors, and it is cities in the Greater South East that have been most successful at doing this.

If Local Industrial Strategies are to help improve the fortunes of struggling places, than they should focus on measures aimed at removing the barriers that deter high-skilled exporting businesses to locate in cities outside the Greater South East – particularly investing in skills and focusing on maximising the benefits cities can offer to businesses in terms of access to knowledge and shared infrastructure.

Elena Magrini is a researcher at the Centre for Cities, on whose website this article originally appeared.

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In South Africa's cities, evictions are happening despite a national ban

An aerial view shows a destroyed house in Lawley, south of Johannesburg, on April 20, 2020. The city has been demolishing informal structures on vacant land despite a moratorium on evictions. (Marco Longari/AFP via Getty Images)

On the morning of 15 July, a South African High Court judge ruled that the city of Cape Town’s Anti-Land Invasion Unit had illegally evicted a man when it destroyed the shack where he was living.

That afternoon, the Anti-Land Invasion Unit was out again, removing shacks in another informal settlement.

Evictions were banned in South Africa for nine weeks, after the national government placed the country under a strict Covid-19 lockdown in late March. At present, eviction orders are automatically suspended until the country moves to a lower “alert level” and can only be carried out with a special order from a judge.

Yet major cities including Cape Town, Johannesburg and eThekwini (created through the merger of Durban with several surrounding communities), have continued to use municipal law enforcement agencies and private security companies to remove people from informal housing. In many cases those operations have been conducted without a court order – something required under regular South African law.

Around 900 people were evicted from three informal settlements in eThekwini during the eviction ban, according to the Church Land Programme, a local NGO. Its director, Graham Philpott, says it’s also aware of evictions in other informal settlements.

While evictions aren’t a “new experience” in these communities, the NGO released a report on lockdown evictions because they were “so explicitly illegal”. “There was a moratorium in place,” Philpott says, “and the local municipality acted quite flagrantly against it. There’s no confusion, there’s no doubt whatsoever, it is illegal. But it is part of a trend where the eThekwini municipality has acted illegally in evicting the poor from informal settlements.”

Evictions also took place in Cape Town and Johannesburg during so-called “hard lockdown” according to local activists. In eThekwini and other municipalities, the evictions have continued despite restrictions. In Cape Town, authorities pulled a naked man, Bulelani Qholani, from his shack. That incident, which was captured on video, drew condemnation from the national government and four members of the Anti-Land Invasion unit were suspended. 


The cities say they’re fighting “land invasions” – illegal occupations without permission from the land owner.

“Land invasions derail housing and service projects, lead to the pollution of waterways, severely prejudice deserving housing beneficiaries and cause property owners to lose their investments over night,” Cape Town’s executive mayor, Dan Plato said in a statement. (Plato has also claimed that Qholani did not live in the shack he was pulled from and that he disrobed when municipal authorities arrived.)

South African municipalities often claim that the shacks they destroy are unoccupied. 

If they were occupied, says Msawakhe Mayisela, a spokesman for the eThekwini municipality, the city would get a court order before conducting an eviction. “Everything we’re doing is within the ambit of the law,” Mayisela says. But “rogue elements” are taking advantage of Covid-19, he added.

“We fully understand that people are desperately in need of land, but the number of people that are flocking to the cities is too much, the city won’t be able to provide housing or accommodation for everyone overnight,” he says. 

While eThekwini claims to be a caring city, local activists say the evictions show otherwise.

In one case, 29 women were evicted from shacks during the hard lockdown. With nowhere to go, they slept in an open field and were arrested by the South African Police Service for violating the lockdown, Philpott says.

“These evictions are dehumanizing people whose dignity is already compromised in many ways,” says S’bu Zikode, the president of Abahlali baseMjondolo, a community organization whose Zulu name translates to “the people of the shacks”. 

“It has reminded us that we are the people that do not count in our society.”

Municipal law enforcement and private security contractors hired by cities regularly fire rubber bullets, or even live ammunition, at residents during evictions. Some 18 Abahlali baseMjondolo activists have been killed since the organization was founded in 2005, Zikode says, most by the eThekwini Land Invasion Unit and Metro Police.

(Mayisela says that if city employees have broken the law, Abahlali baseMjondolo can file a complaint with the police. “There is no conclusive evidence to the effect that our members have killed them,”  he says.)

Other Abahlali baseMjondolo activists have been killed by what Zikode calls “izinkabi,” hitmen hired by politicians. Two eThekwini city councillors were sentenced to life in prison 2016 after they organized the killing of Thuli Ndlovu, an Abahlali baseMjondolo organizer. A member of the Land Invasion Unit who is currently facing a charge of attempted murder after severely injuring a person during an eviction remains on the job, Zikode says.

South Africa’s 1996 constitution is intended to protect the public from arbitrary state violence and guarantees a right to housing, as well as due process in evictions. But for Zikode, the South African constitution is a “beautiful document on a shelf”.

“For the working class and the poor, it’s still difficult to have access to court. You’ve got to have money to get to court,” he says. 

The actions by municipal law enforcement are breaking down social trust, says Buhle Booi, a member of the Khayelitsha Community Action Network, a community group in the largest township in Cape Town.

“There’s a lack of police resources and those very few police resources that they have, they use to destroy people’s homes, to destroy people’s peace, rather than fighting crime, real criminal elements that we see in our society,” Booi says.

For him, it’s a continuation of the practices of the colonial and apartheid governments, pushing poor people, most of whom are Black, to the periphery of cities.

Around one-fifth of South Africa’s urban population live in shacks or informal dwellings, according to a 2018 report by SERI. Many more live in substandard housing. City governments maintain that the shacks destroyed during anti-land invasion operations are unfinished and unoccupied. But Edward Molopi, a research and advocacy officer at SERI, says that this claim is an attempt to escape their legal obligations to get a court order and to find alternative accommodation for affected people. 

The roots of the current eviction crisis go back to apartheid, which barred non-white people from living in cities. Between the 1940s and 1970s, tens of thousands of people were forcibly relocated from neighbourhoods like Johannesburg’s Sophiatown and Cape Town’s District Six to remote townships.

In the 26 years following the end of apartheid, deepening economic inequality and rampant unemployment have limited access to formal housing for millions of South Africans. Government housing programs have mostly focused on building small stand-alone homes, often on the peripheries of cities far from jobs and amenities.

While these well-intentioned projects have built millions of homes, they’ve failed to keep up with demand, says Marie Huchzermeyer, a professor at the Centre for Urbanism & Built Environment Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. Government-funded housing projects “will never on it’s own be enough,” she says. “It has to be accompanied by land release.”

Government policies call for the “upgrading” of informal settlements and the formalization of residents’ occupation. But “there are still very, very, very few projects” of that nature in South Africa, Huchzermeyer says. “Even if it’s an informal settlement that’s been around for 20 years, there still seems to be a political wish to punish people for having done that.” The government wants people to go through the formal process of being given a house, she says – and for them to be thankful to the government for providing it.

At the municipal level, change will require “real leadership around informal settlement upgrading and around ensuring that land is available for people to occupy,” she says. 

Despite the end of enforced racial segregation, spacial apartheid remains a factor in South Africa. There are few mixed-income neighbourhoods. Those who can afford to often live behind walls in sprawling low-density suburbs, while the poor live in overcrowded slums and apartment buildings.

The creation of the apartheid city “didn't happen by chance,” says Amira Osman, a professor of architecture at the Tshwane University of Technology. “It was a deliberate, structured approach to the design of the city. We need a deliberate, structured approach that will undo that.”

Since last fall, Johannesburg’s Inclusionary Housing Policy has required developments of 20 or more units to set aside 30% of those units for low-income housing.

The policy, which faced significant opposition from private developers, won’t lead to dramatic change, says Sarah Charlton, a professor at the Centre for Urbanism and Built Environment Studies, but it is “an important and significant step.”

Zikode isn’t optimistic that change will come for shack dwellers, however.

“People in the high positions of authority pretend that everything is normal,” he says. “They pretend that everyone is treated justly, they pretend that everyone has homes with running water, that everyone has a piece of land – and hide the truth and the lies of our democracy.”

Jacob Serebrin is a freelance journalist currently based in Johannesburg. Follow him on Twitter.