Episode 2 Return to Forgotten Britain

12 years ago, as a new millennium beckoned,

I travelled across Britain

to meet people in some of the country's most hard-pressed communities.

These were the early years of Blair's Britain.

TONY BLAIR: A new dawn has broken, has it not?

And for most of us, the official story was of hope.

It was the longest boom in British history.

No return to Tory boom and bust.

But my journey took me into another Britain,

to places that seemed forgotten, in the new age of prosperity.

Among people who felt they belonged to another nation.

Talked about by politicians, but whose own voices were rarely heard.

It's soul destroying and there's really no other alternative to it.

It is. It destroys you.

And they would turn out to be

some of the most powerful voices I'd ever encountered.

I'm not a pawn and I'm not a number.

I'm a man. I'm a human being and they will never,

ever take my dignity from me.

In the 12 years since I made that journey

the world has been transformed.

With Britain struggling to emerge from the deepest recession

since the Second World War, I want to see how the people who

made such an impression on me back then are coping today.

Last week, I went back to rural communities in Wales and Cornwall.

Country houses - you knock and then you can go in.

Tonight, I'll be returning to the cities.

In Glasgow, I'm going back to the shipyard workers, who'd fought

to stop decades of industrial decline and save their jobs.

In Leeds, I'll return to families who lived on a housing estate

blighted by crime and drugs.

12 years on, I want to find out what's changed for the people

and places that felt like part of a Forgotten Britain.

-You don't worry that you're a dinosaur?

-Dinosaurs lived for 250 million years.

If it hadn't been for the meteor,

the dinosaurs would still be running the world.

I feel quite nervous, you know, about meeting these people.

I feel quite nervous about meeting them.

So much has changed in the 12 years since I was last in Glasgow.

Difficult to believe, looking up this river.

The last time I was here, it was, like, the life

and the colour had drained out of the place.

And if you look around me now, you've got concrete and glass,

millions upon millions has been spent here, and it's still going on.

And I suppose the big question for me is, with all of this money

and changing the face of the place, what's happened to the people

that I knew then?

Theirs was a story defined by the struggle for work.

Britain was booming.

But in the Glasgow district of Govan, unemployment was three times

the national average.

'Next station, Govan.'

John Brown was one of the lucky few back then -

he had a job in the Govan shipyard.

And his passion for the right to work was absolute.

Like his father and grandfather before him,

John had worked in shipbuilding all his adult life,

joining the yard as an apprentice welder aged 21.

What do I want out of life?

I want a job, I want some money in my pocket at the end of the week.

And I want my kids to get an education that means

they can have a better life than me.

Simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less.

In its heyday, the yard employed over 9,000 workers

from the local area of Govan.

But like the rest of British manufacturing,

the modern story of shipbuilding was of decline.

By the millennium, the shipyard employed less than 1,400 men.

And when I arrived at the yard 12 years ago,

it looked as if the remaining jobs were about to vanish.

The Norwegian owners were quitting shipbuilding.

John Brown, married with two small children,

contemplated what was, for him, the abyss of life on benefits.

I tossed and turned for nights on end, trying to wonder

how I was going to get out of this problem.

Eh, that was my greatest worry, was actually keep a roof over my head.

I mean, that's a basic right, that's a practical thing.

How am I going to keep a roof over my head?

How am I going to clothe my children?

The union campaigned and compromised.

In a historic battle that went all the way to Downing Street,

the yard was saved.

But the price was several hundred redundancies.

Amid the celebrations, John Brown learned his job was gone.

12 years later, I've come back to see what's become of a man

who believed so passionately in the dignity of work.

-John Brown.

-Good to see you again! How are you?

-I'm good.

-That's Charlotte, my wife.

-Hello, nice to meet you. How are you?

-I'm fine, thanks.

-Good to see you. Excellent.

-In you come.

-Fergal, this is my eldest son, Gavin.

-How are you doing?

And my youngest, Callum.

How you doing, guys? What age are you now?

16 and 14.

They were only wee when you were first up here.

They weren't aware they were on television then.

-I have a 16-year-old son, as well.

-Yeah, well, you'll know what I'm going through, then!

Yes!

So, this is the home, and how are you yourself?

I'm not too bad. You're looking good, though.

I'm looking good and I feel good, despite the intervening 12 years.

-Which have been eventful.

-So much has happened.

'I wanted to know how John

'and his family felt about what had happened back then.'

Oh, God, no! Now, don't laugh at any of this, right!

'I take home pay on day shift,'

£200 a week.

That's hardly an excessive wage. But it keeps my head above water.

'I can get a Chinese takeaway once a month

'and a couple of bottles of beer out of the supermarket once a week.

-'That's my treats.'

-That's his luxuries!

So many people said to me

that that was the line that really struck in their head.

God! It's a luxury to get a Chinese takeaway once a month

and a couple of bottles of beer.

It's true. I'm only on £300 per week now.

So there you go! And that's 12 years.

John faced the prospect of finding work in a city which had lost

over a third of its manufacturing jobs in the previous decade.

First of all, let me say one thing.

I'm one of the ones out the door on Friday.

Last night was an agony for me, and this is even worse.

And I'd just like to say, on a personal vein,

it's been 17 years in here.

It's been a big part of my life, an important part of my life,

and I'll be sorry to leave youse.

I was... I was crumbling into dust at that point, inside.

I'd just had enough.

-One of our workmates killed himself during that campaign...

-Did he?

..because he thought he was getting made redundant.

John was on an emotional rollercoaster.

Then his fortunes took an unexpected turn.

My manager just came over to me

and says, "John, can I speak to you?"

He says, "John, three guys have volunteered to take their redundancy.

"You've been chosen to be saved."

I'd completely forgotten that.

That's...I even know the guy who done that.

-Who took voluntary?

-Who took voluntary and saved my job.

Where else would you get that, but in a working-class community?

"I'm going to take my redundancy and help somebody else in doing it."

It's incredible.

And that's what ordinary people do

when they're in that sort of situation.

'We're, hopefully, going to get a future.

'I think that's a tremendous achievement.

'It's a victory. It's a victory been won at a cost.

'And I, for one, will not forget the cost.'

Watching it all these years later, what did you think?

I used to be much older, then.

I'm younger than that now.

Bob Dylan, My Back Pages.

-Bob Dylan, seeing myself.

-You never even like Bob Dylan!

Aye.

What a rollercoaster.

It was hellish - that time, it was absolutely hellish.

It was like getting punched in the face, right?

That's what it was like.

I've been punched in the face, so I know what I'm talking about!

It was like getting punched in the face

and then getting a bucket of ice-cold water thrown on you.

And then somebody giving you a cheque for £100.

It was extraordinary. It was unbelievable.

I mean, I was 15 minutes from going out the door.

And then, bang, somebody's went, "You can stay."

John's job had been saved on that day.

And the yard had survived, too, for then, at least.

Men like John and his colleagues, who'd fought to keep

the shipyard open, knew what lay on the other side of the gates.

The Govan of 12 years ago was one of Britain's poorest areas,

devastated by the nation's industrial decline.

Without the 60,000 jobs that the shipyards on the River Clyde

had once offered, work was scarce.

'I'm sort of wondering what it is like, day after day after day,'

year after year, to go without work?

It's soul destroying and there's really no other alternative to it.

It is. It destroys you.

Davie McCuish was one of Govan's unemployed.

The son of a shipyard worker, when I met Davie, he'd been

out of work for five years, after a succession of part-time jobs.

Davie had three small children and struggled to feed

and clothe them on benefits.

'What do you feel as a man,'

being unable to provide for your family?

Pretty disgusted.

I look at my family and I think... why, why can't I do this,

why can't I do that, why can't they have better things,

why can't they have a decent meal rather than frozen, pre-packed?

Davie was the first man in his family to live on benefits.

He was only 39, but spoke like someone who'd

long outlived his purpose.

You just become a total degenerate. You're nothing in the community.

You're not even a number any more, you're a barcode.

The last time I saw Davie, I'll never forget what he said.

He says, you know, "You're not a human being, you're a number.

"You're not even a number, you're a barcode."

And I don't think I ever met anyone, anywhere, who really

got across to me the humiliation of being long-term unemployed.

Hello, long time no see.

Jeepers! How are you, man?

-Not bad.

-I'll get you in in a wee second,

just after I get these barriers down.

So you're not a customer here?

Afraid not, I wish I was.

You're working here?

Yes, I'm working here now.

Fantastic.

I can tell you this much, you haven't aged.

I could probably say the same about you.

-You've put a bit a beef on, though.

-I did, put a bit on.

Funnily enough, you're not the first person to remark on that!

Do you want a seat? Have a seat.

I'll take a seat, indeed, I will.

So this is... this is your place of work.

It is, yeah.

Because I suppose, when I met you, with all due respect,

-you were probably propping up the bar, rather than working behind it.

-Yes, aye. I'm doing both now!

OK, but you're paying for the drink with the money you earned,

rather than benefit.

Hard-earned! Give me just a wee second.

Aye, go on.

It's not everybody's cup of tea.

Not everybody wants to be pouring pints.

A lot of people would say to me,

"Aye, but you only earn peanuts working behind a bar."

So what? I'm earning.

I'm comfortable in my job.

It's really clear to me, when I watch you moving around

this bar, that here's a man whose whole physical presence is different.

You know, you're not a beaten dog.

-No.

-With all due respect, that's what you looked like the last time.

Yep. And that's the way I felt.

In fact, I felt lower than a beaten dog. However, now I know

I am somebody and I know I'm capable of doing anything I put my mind to.

Davie's a changed man.

And in some respects, so is Govan.

They've done a really good job of the houses.

What used to be a wee single ender...

..a wee two apartment, is now being knocked together

and made, like, three apartments with running hot water.

Inside toilets.

Nearly £300 million has been spent trying to regenerate the area.

And yet Govan is still one of the most deprived areas in Scotland.

A quarter of business premises are still vacant here.

The big truth about a place like Govan is that it needs jobs

to keep it alive and to stop the corrosive effect

unemployment can have on families who live here.

When I last spoke to you, it was at your home.

You don't live there anymore?

No. Erm...

My wife and I parted company, not on the worst of terms.

But unemployment had a lot to do with it.

Erm, because it put a lot of strain on our relationship.

Davie and his wife separated when his son, Danny, was seven.

I think it was the stress of not being able to support them

and not being able to give them what I felt they deserved.

I felt as if I was letting them down constantly.

I'd lost all faith in myself as a person

How did that play out in the relationship?

It led to a lot of arguments, a lot of frustration.

A lot of temper tantrums.

In front of the children?

No. Very rarely. I would try and avoid that.

Sometimes it just got too hot that I couldn't stop

myself from moaning and bawling and whatever.

And they obviously picked up on that, so they would feel hurt.

'And that, I think, was the biggest downfall in my days, then,

'was the hurt I could see in their faces.'

I'll see you in the morning.

I was only a wee boy.

I don't remember being sad all the time,

but when I was in the house I didn't like it.

There was a few things I did catch,

that I'd like to forget at some point.

Davie's son, Danny, was five years old when I last met him.

His father was out of work for most of his childhood.

What was he like, then?

Wasn't very nice. Wasn't very happy at all. Ever.

I don't think I even seen you smile, up until I was about 11.

I'm not disagreeing with that. Because I wasn't a happy person.

It wasn't a happy lifestyle.

Angry, depressed.

I don't want to embarrass you here,

but I wonder when you hear that description of what it was like...

I've heard it that many times.

I can't deny that it's been a part of me.

Um... The sheer frustration, the anger inside me.

My family was an easy target.

I couldn't get to the people I wanted to get,

who were the employers, who just ignored you completely.

I hated you.

But that all changed.

What changed him? You clearly love him now,

I can...you can feel that between you.

Probably working. When he was working, he was always happier,

he was always there.

If you needed anything, he was willing to help.

I think it's the England game.

Are you proud of him now?

Aye. Definitely.

Hey, a smile!

I always smile.

'It's one of the greatest things that any dad can hear is

'any of their kids actually admitting that.

'Working doesn't just give you the satisfaction of having a job,'

it brings a lot of other things into perspective.

I think it improves your person.

After years of being out of work, Davie took the job he could get.

It wasn't glamorous or high paid, but it gave him back

his self-respect - and healed his relationship with his son, Danny.

INAUDIBLE

On my journey across Britain 12 years ago,

it wasn't just Govan where I'd found families caught in the crisis

caused by long-term unemployment.

I'm on my way back to Lincoln Green,

a 1950s housing estate on the edge of Leeds city centre.

When I was last here, Leeds was one of the most economically

successful cities in the country. It had the second lowest

unemployment total of any city in the UK.

But Lincoln Green was worlds apart from the prosperous city centre

a few streets away.

Like many high rise estates,

it was blighted by poverty and crime.

There's no angels live in this area, Fergal,

but it really did, you were invaded with it.

You were frightened to go to the shop in case your door got kicked off.

I mean, mine's have been kicked off umpteen times.

Back then, Lincoln Green felt like a community under siege.

All the old people that used to live in the flats,

the noise drove out.

And more and more, we started seeing strangers,

then it invited more crime.

A Glaswegian, Liz Craig knew well the struggles of life here.

Her son was in jail and she was helping to raise his three children

surrounded by boarded-up flats and drug dens.

But she was determined to stay.

I want to stay because I like it here.

I might be grasping at straws, but...

I think, I think we could be a community again, like we used to be.

I think we could make a community again.

Liz's family were the last occupants of maisonettes

listed for demolition.

She hoped to see the children grow up in a better Lincoln Green.

OK, it might be fruitless, but I've hung on for two-and-a-half years

after all, everybody's left, because I'm personally hanging on to dreams.

When I'd left Lincoln Green 12 years ago,

Liz's maisonette was set to be knocked down.

I've discovered that Liz died five years ago.

But I'm curious to know what's happened to her grandchildren,

especially Shane, a boy I remember as sensitive

and close to his grandmother.

Shortly before her death, Liz had moved into this new council home

on the estate, with her daughter-in-law, Gaynor.

-Hello. How are you?

-Hello.

-Hello, Gaynor.

-Long time no see.

-Good to see you, god.

-You OK?

-I'm great. Absolutely.

Apart from a few grey hairs.

A few - a lot of grey hairs. Should I dye it?

-How are you? Who's this fella?

-Bailey.

-Hello, Bailey.

-And this is Marley.

And Marley.

'Bailey and Marley are Liz's great-grandsons.

'Shane's mum, Gaynor, keeps watch over the extended family.'

-Hello.

-Alyshia, how are you, nice to see you. How are you doing?

-I'm all right, thanks.

-All right.

-Shane.

-Jeepers, have you changed?

You were a kid the last time I saw you.

Shane was ten when I first met him.

He's 22 now, and a father of four.

No, I'm not leaving youse here.

-Careful.

-Careful, mind your heads.

'His eldest daughter, Anyia, is five, his son, Bailey, is 18 months,

'and he has twin girls in between.

'12 years ago, his own dad was in jail.

'And he's back there now for a violent crime.

'I wondered how Shane was managing without his grandmother Liz's

'strong presence.'

'He took me to visit her grave.'

She meant a great deal to you?

Yeah, more than I can describe.

I miss her loads. I don't know.

She's the only person I ever really talked to about stuff.

Shane was embarrassed at the state of his grandmother's grave.

It shouldn't be like this.

Well, you can come up and do some work with it, can't you?

I used to come and just bring my hedge trimmers and that

and cut it all down.

What I want to do is, when I get the headstone,

I'm going to lay the stones down,

cos her favourite colour were dolphin blue, so I'm going to

have something like that put down with the dolphin blue stones in.

As a child, Shane's grandmother, Liz,

and mother, Gaynor, raised him, while his dad, who had

a history of drug addiction, was in and out of prison.

On the Lincoln Green where Shane grew up, long-term unemployment,

hard drugs and crime were endemic.

Across Britain in the late nineties, the number of people who

died from drug use went up four-fold.

Shane's grandmother, Liz, had seen her own sons caught up

in heroin addiction.

I've seen so much despair, heartache and death and sorrow,

just in a few hundred yards.

My own two sons, you know, I never thought I'd live to see that day.

And it was something that they tried to hide well.

But, you know when you've been down that road before?

I buried two brothers, you know, you can...

-From drugs?

-From drugs.

Shane's life was shaped by the support of his grandmother

and mother.

But there was a great absence - a father frequently in jail.

You didn't have a father around for most of when you were growing up.

Even when he was around, he's only been out for a year at a time.

I used to play football, and when I used to go to football, all my friends would have their dads

there watching them, and it would just be me and my grandma, you know.

'Shane was 16 year's old when his grandmother, Liz, died.

'His own life went off the rails soon after.'

After my grandma died, a year or two later, I...

made a few bad mistakes, I went down the wrong road, you know.

I got, em, started getting into, got into the heroin trade

a little bit when I was out of school and then I realised that...

Were you dealing or using?

No, no, I weren't using, I were selling it.

I'm not proud of that.

-Did you get caught?

-Yeah, I went to jail.

Shane was sent to a young offenders' institute.

He'd grown up in a place where drugs and crime were rife.

The estate has really changed for the better.

Crime is down by nearly a quarter.

The squats of drug addicts have long ago have become family homes.

But has Shane been able to escape the legacy of his past?

I'll be back to find out.

From Leeds to Govan, this is a story about work

and the struggle for self-respect.

I'm drained, I'm exhausted. I've been through the wringer.

But I'm just glad I've got a job and a place I like working

with people like working with, and I'll put all this behind me.

John Brown and his friends seemed to have won

a great battle at the shipyard 12 years ago.

In their fight to save the yard, the men embodied

the centuries' old motto of Govan - "Without work, there is nothing".

But what had happened to the shipyard itself

since I last visited?

Back then, the yard had been granted what

I thought was probably a stay of execution.

In a Britain where heavy industry was dying, where would

the orders come from to guarantee a longer-term future?

What none of us could have imagined back then was how global events

would reverberate here in Govan.

The Royal Navy wanted ultra-modern ships to operate alongside

the US Navy in conflict zones across the world.

Under new owners, BAE Systems,

there were orders for six new hi-tech destroyers.

And then, the biggest contract in naval history - two colossal aircraft carriers.

It's absolutely awesome.

When I was last here 12 years ago, the idea that they would be

working on this Leviathan, it wasn't on the cards.

Staying open and getting by with whatever small-scale shipping work

you could get was the idea.

If it wasn't for defence, then this place would've been sunk.

It is a sight beyond the hopes of the man who led the workers

back from the brink of disaster 12 years ago.

APPLAUSE

CHEERING

BAGPIPE RECITAL

I would like to hand you over

to the most genuine guy I've ever met in my life.

Jamie Webster! APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Back in 1999, Jamie Webster was the union convener of the shipyard.

He was also one of the most determined men I'd ever met.

We are the best. And that's the conviction we have for each other.

APPLAUSE AND CHEERING

Jamie is still the union leader here.

That's the big block from the aircraft carrier.

We can just see it there, look, poking out. It's a mighty sight.

Yes, that's a very minuscule part of it.

Right back to the end of the tank shop.

When that comes out it'll be a frightening sight, awesome.

We build really good ships on the Clyde.

I'd say we build the best ships on the Clyde.

That's why they call it Clyde-built.

But for John Brown, who fought so hard to save the yard,

there was a cruel blow.

In 2002, two years after I last filmed here,

despite the new contracts,

nearly 150 men, including John, lost their jobs.

When they actually did pay me off,

in a way, there was a finality about that.

That was, "Thank Christ, that's the end of that nightmare."

BELL RINGS

Of course, little did I know

another one was about to unfold, actually trying to find a job.

John went on a succession of government retraining schemes.

From proud worker to a man on benefit.

John was out of work for a year.

The big man from the shipyard

eventually got work as a teaching assistant

in a class full of ten-year-olds.

John told me how his days out of work challenged his identity.

What did it do to you psychologically to be out of work?

It broke the major plank -

the arc that made up my edifice of my personality.

It smashed the arch. It was very difficult to rebuild it.

-Were you depressed during that period?

-Yes. Yes, I was.

How did that manifest itself?

A bit quieter, a bit more withdrawn.

Bad tempered. It got me into trouble.

-Yes. I didn't want you to bring that into the family home.

-Yeah.

Thanks, at least, in part, in a large part, to Charlotte,

I didn't give in to it. I couldn't afford to give in to it.

If I...if I had sat in the back of a darkened room

and threw a towel around my head

and cried myself to sleep every night, nothing would have changed.

I'd have become a victim.

And I am absolutely determined that I don't become a victim.

But John's life would take another extraordinary turn.

One day, there was a phone call.

When BAE Systems rang you up and said, "Come back to work,"

what was your reaction?

Apart from trying to hold down a laugh,

what I thought was, basically, they must have had a list, right,

and I had been at the bottom of that list.

And because they didn't have enough skilled workers,

they've been forced to call me back.

It must have been pretty difficult for them to phone up the guy

who was the biggest pain in the arse they'd ever had.

When you walked back in through that gate, what did you feel?

It was like pulling on an old pair of drawers. It was just like that.

It was as if I'd never been away from the place.

Seriously, it was the same smells,

the same noises, the same patter, the same sights.

Everything was exactly the same.

I kept saying to myself, "Have I been out of here for two years?"

Today, after being made redundant, then rehired by BAE Systems,

John is still at the shipyard,

working on the giant aircraft carrier.

-Well, welcome to my world.

-Ha-ha-ha! What a world it is!

John now works in a quieter part of the yard

and needs to take regular breaks.

Because four years ago, he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis,

a disease of the nervous system.

This area where you are working, what's it called?

It's the steel outfit shop, SOS.

-It has a number of other names.

-Like what?

Pet's Corner, and the best one, Cripple Creek.

Cripple...! Pet's Corner. Why?

There's a lot of guys in here with various different restrictions,

due to health or accidents

or getting back to work after a period of illness.

It's a community!

I get a bit of feedback, I get constantly slagged, I get provoked.

What do they slag you about?

Er...having MS and being a pain in the arse and useless.

-You take that?

-Of course I do!

I mean, there was a thing...

You know how MS can be quite debilitating, right?

The boys know that, as well. They do things like

putting my chair in a puddle and kid on I've wet myself, right?

John jokes about his illness,

but his last relapse left him unable to work for a month

with a paralysed shoulder.

-Do you find yourself getting more tired more easily nowadays?

-Yes.

About 2:00 in the afternoon, 2:30, I call it the brick wall.

But I just absolutely bang into it.

And after that, I'm really...

I'm flying on fumes, to tell you the truth, to the end of the shift.

That's one of the reasons I've had to give up one day a week

and only work four days a week.

I'm clinging on in here by my fingertips

and I'll do it until I can't do it any more.

What do I want out of life?

I want a job, I want some money in my pocket at the end of the week

and I want my kids to get an education

that means they can have a better life than me.

Simple as that. Nothing more, nothing less.

John is one of the last of a generation who entered the workplace

believing in the idea of a job for life.

For many beyond the shipyard gates,

getting even a start in employment nowadays is proving difficult.

RADIO: Last month, Scotland's jobless total fell by 12,000.

But youth unemployment remains stubbornly high,

with around one in five young Scots currently jobless.

When Davie McCuish went looking for work,

he had no qualifications and spent years on the dole.

A decade later, his son Danny left school at 16

without passing any exams.

Two years on, Danny still has no job.

When you were growing up along this river,

there was the dream for you

-of following your father into the shipyards.

-Yep.

-Now, it didn't work out.

-A-huh.

I'm just wondering what dream there is for Danny, your son,

when all that industry is gone?

What is there for Danny to aspire to?

I'm sure there must be something for him. There must be.

He's just got to find that niche and grab hold of it.

And hopefully, he'll find it soon.

I really sense you're worried this boy

is going to drift and drift and end up like you were.

I'm not letting him go until I know that he's absolutely bang on.

It is strange, I do miss him,

but you've got to cut the apron strings at some point.

Danny has moved out of Govan to live in Falkirk, 30 miles away.

Davie's still keeping an eye on him.

He's not a hundred million miles away.

So he knows that I'm still there, if he needs to get a hold of me.

I'm only a phone call away.

The local authority has given Danny a flat

that he shares with his girlfriend Louise, who's also unemployed.

Davie's visiting Danny for the first time

and has brought with him a housewarming gift of a new TV.

Come and give us a hug. It's all yours.

Right, then, let's see what you've got.

-Kitchen.

-That's quite a big kitchen, isn't it?

They gave us a brand-new cooker, a brand-new fridge freezer.

Er...a cupboard where we stick the tins and all that. So...

That's all right, isn't it?

-A brand-new washing machine, too.

-Cool!

It's a two-bedroom flat, far bigger than Danny expected.

He's got a lovely wee place.

People would die for this at my age, never mind his age.

Materially, Danny seems to have everything he needs.

But I wonder what he's doing to try and find a job.

The horrible thing is I'm seeing the same thing happen to him

as what happened to me,

in that he's slowl,y but surely, getting himself into a rut.

You won't let that happen to your son?

Oh, I certainly won't let that happen to him.

Because he won't be drowning.

I'll be his life jacket, if I need be.

There's no chance he's going down, not with him...

not without taking me with him.

Do you ever feel like grabbing him by the shoulders and saying,

"Wake up! It's a recession out there."

He's still a kid himself.

He's not fully motivated.

I think he needs to focus

and needs to know exactly what he wants.

Danny says he's been looking for work

for the last two years, since he left school.

As Britain begins to emerge from deep recession,

the national employment picture is improving.

But for those young people like Danny,

out of work for more than two years, it's a different story.

Since the recession began, their number has soared.

In Scotland, it's gone up fourfold in the last two years.

When you think about being unemployed and signing on,

what does it make you feel about yourself?

It's pretty miserable.

Sort of...soul destroying, in a way.

Because being unemployed, you've got nothing to do.

You find yourself being really bored.

You don't really have a reason to wake up.

It's not a life for anybody.

What are you trying to do now, in terms of getting a job?

Anything. I would take any job going.

I'm looking in the newspaper.

For the first time, I'm actually reading a newspaper.

Looking online, asking friends, asking my family,

going to the Jobcentre.

Anything I can, really.

Not only are jobs scarce, but like so many young people in the area,

Danny hasn't the qualifications to give him a strong chance.

All the while, he's still on benefits.

What are the financial facts of your life?

How much do you get on benefit?

With a joint claim, every two weeks, it's £222.90.

To feed two people, for the bills you have to pay.

See, people who pay tax in this country

would look at someone in your position and say,

"Why are we funding them?"

"He's young, he's fit, he should be out doing something."

Even if it's working in a fast-food restaurant

or it's cleaning hotel rooms.

I'd be happy to do that, but nobody would rely on me.

They don't even give you a shot.

They're either not hiring or they want somebody more qualified.

At the age of 18, your father didn't have a job.

At the age of 18, you don't have a job.

I wonder, are you worried about turning out like him?

There's no chance I'll ever turn out like him.

Cos I know what he was like

and I know what it felt like to be on the other end of it.

Danny grew up in a world of low expectations.

I just don't know if he believes he can find a job.

Or following such a deep recession,

whether there will be jobs for young people like him to find.

From April next year, Danny may face a drop in his benefits,

as the government's £18 billion worth of welfare cuts start to bite.

I wondered what this drive to get people off benefit, into work,

would mean for Shane in Leeds.

TV: David Cameron has called for

a new debate about the welfare system and those who benefit from it.

TV: Can life be easier for parents on benefits, than parents in work?

It strikes me, the bigger question is, how you create a work ethic

in the lives of young men like Shane.

Shane had grown up on Lincoln Green under the watchful eye

of his grandmother Liz, who died five years ago,

and his mother Gaynor.

Unlike the young Scot, Danny McCuish,

Shane never really had a father in his life.

Certainly none to act as a role model.

Now he has four children to support,

alongside his partner of eight years, Shikisha.

Neither of them work and they rely on benefits to raise their children.

I didn't plan to get pregnant, but I thought with me having this baby,

it'd be somebody for me to, you know, look after and stuff.

I just felt like I was just there.

-You know, there weren't...

-That you had no purpose?

Yeah. No purpose whatsoever. I was just there. So...

-Did the baby give you purpose?

-Yeah.

I used to tell my dad that I weren't having kids and I weren't getting married.

And I'm still not married yet, but I've got four!

It's a difficult question, in a way, but it's kind of an obvious one.

In this day and age, when there's so much contraception

and education about contraception,

how did you manage to fall pregnant?

-Um...

-And not just once, but on several occasions.

Um...I were careless.

Carelessness.

There's no excuses.

Just careless, and, you know, young.

Do you regret having the four kids?

I don't regret, but I think I would've waited.

I think I'd have preferred to have, you know, lived a bit

and have a good job, stable home and...

then I might, then,I think I should've had them.

Shane and Shikisha live in a council house on Lincoln Green.

Leeds City Council has spent millions on housing here

in the 12 years since I first came.

There's a report that there may have been a break-in there. I'm just going to check.

One in eight flats was empty and a haunt of drug addicts.

The property has been emptied.

It looks like council chipboard and sheeting

has been ripped off the kitchen window.

PC Tony Sweeney was the bobby on the beat back then.

-Now, this place, I recognise from our last...

-Yeah, that's right.

He's now in a desk job.

But still has a passion for the estate he once patrolled.

He took me back to the tower blocks which had once been so desolate.

This is all a sign of confidence, really,

because people have got confidence now to come and live here.

Police officer. Is anybody here?

When you look at this place now, it's hard to imagine

all the misery that went on here.

It is. It is very much.

You can hear the children playing in the, in the playground there.

It's testament to, to everybody.

Not just the police and the local council,

but also the community, as well.

And yes, we have had a change in communities.

They've all had to turn around and say,

"Enough's enough, this has got to change."

The arrival of a new population of migrants and asylum seekers

means the high-rise estate is almost fully occupied.

But for all the change, unemployment remains a stubborn problem.

The number of people on benefits has risen.

And with Shane, I really fear he's adrift.

I really don't want to do a job that I won't be happy with,

because that'll just make me worse.

But, Shane, I suppose the danger is you might wait forever...

Not in... The way it's all... Yeah, yeah, yeah.

..for the right job, or a job you like.

And I suppose the longer you're out of work...

The harder it is to get into it, yeah.

Shane is a sensitive man.

And I sense he's depressed, because he knows he's drifting.

Shikisha is unemployed, too,

but she hopes once her youngest children are in pre-school,

she'll study to be a midwife.

I think if he went out to work

and I went out to work and you know, we come home,

I think we'd be a lot happier.

I think Shikisha's right, they would be happier.

And their children would see a work ethic in action.

It's something Shane didn't see from his dad growing up.

We've had 50 years and more of worrying away at this question.

And you're no nearer an answer

to what to do with young men like Shane.

But it strikes me that, whatever mix you have

of coercion or encouragement by the state,

it is a matter of individual responsibility.

Yes, it's very tough at the moment to get jobs.

But Shane knows if he doesn't want his son

to grow up in the same culture,

he's going to have to make an effort.

For now, the sun is shining at the seaside

as I'm joining the family for a day out.

What do you reckon of the quality of these fish and chips?

They're not world famous, but they're nice.

-They'll do.

-Yeah. They're nice.

Gaynor, Shane's mum, and an entourage of friends and family

are helping to look after the children.

Now, you could look at this family group,

the young on benefits, children born to teenage parents,

Shane with his father in prison and no job himself,

and see it simply as a picture of a so-called Broken Britain.

But that would be a mistake.

Because when you're with this family,

what's striking is the care devoted to the children.

They are at the centre of Shane and Shikisha's world.

And I do believe Shane wants to show them something he never knew,

the example of a working father.

I just try to do the opposite to what he's done.

Give my family someone to be proud of, you know.

If I'm there for my son how my Dad wasn't there for me,

he should have enough knowledge

not to make the same mistakes I've made, you know.

What would you like your kids to do?

Get a life outside of the area, you know. Like...

-I do like it.

-I mean, it's a good area,

I just think that it traps a lot of people, you know,

like it keeps them in a cycle.

And it's hard to break out of a cycle

once you're in that routine, you know.

Because there's more to life than council estates.

-Is there more to your life than council estates?

-Yeah.

-Will there be?

-I hope so, yeah.

There will. I'll make sure there is, yeah.

If Britain keeps moving out of recession, then Shane and Shikisha

could find opportunities to change their future.

And with benefit cuts looming, there'll be pressure on them.

But I hope that it's wanting to do well for his children's sake

that will really drive Shane.

Back in Govan, there's another twist

in the story of John Brown and the shipyard.

The government contracts that kept it open are coming to an end.

TV: David Cameron has said that difficult decisions

have been made about Britain's defences.

But this government has inherited a £38 billion black hole

in our future defence plans.

£5 billion of defence cuts

and the debate over Scottish independence

are creating a climate of deep uncertainty.

Anxiety is spreading.

The yard, I'm concerned about.

The problem we have in Govan is that we are now too specialised.

We have one product range.

We have only got one customer, the MoD.

The MoD is getting no money

and it won't have any money for the next ten years.

Darwin shows you, nature shows you,

that it's the specialists that become extinct.

It's the generalists that survive.

We need to be more of a fox and less of a panda.

I accept that our industry will be downsized.

I think all realistic, pragmatic people realise that.

That's across the country.

Nobody's immune from that.

So we can't say we're God's chosen people or something like that.

APPLAUSE

I know better than to doubt the determination of Jamie Webster

and the men of the Govan Yard.

We rose from the ashes 12 years ago

and have had 12 really good years,

and we're going through a bumpy ride again

and we'll come through that again, as well.

APPLAUSE

In this story of work in Britain, few have more experience

of the precarious fortunes of industry than John Brown.

John's a complicated man,

both intensely realistic and irrepressibly romantic.

As a person, he's wonderfully unchanged

by the passing of the years.

I've enjoyed the struggle.

I've made a lot of good friends during the struggle and along the way.

I intend to keep that struggle going as long as I'm able.

I love my class, and I fight for them all the time.

And I think I always will.

But isn't it a fact that your doctor has told you

that if you keep doing this,

you're shortening your life expectancy?

Yes, it is a fact, yeah.

If that's the case, why do you keep doing it?

I've a family to look after, Fergal.

I've two boys who are teenagers

that, within a short space of time, will not be in school.

They need money in the house to keep a family.

You'll know yourself, you don't live on fresh air, Fergal.

The Govan shipyard has had the best years of John Brown's life.

But I worry about his and the yard's future.

It's late autumn and a great section of the aircraft carrier

is being readied to leave Govan.

It is, for a few moments at least, possible to imagine this place

as it was when British shipyards dominated the world.

The last time that I left Govan,

there was, in the yard, a real positive sense of the future.

And it's different now.

There's a great deal of political uncertainty

about independence in Scotland, recession.

This yard doesn't know if it's going to get more defence contracts.

And so, when I'm thinking of Jamie Webster and John Brown,

of Davie McCuish and his son Danny, all the people of Govan,

I think these are not encouraging times.

And yet, for all that, it's possible to leave Govan

feeling quietly inspired by people who don't give up.

It's the story of my entire journey.

From the struggle for work in urban Britain

to rural areas where tenant farmers fight to keep their way of life.

They keep going, not because politicians tell them to,

or just because it's what their financial circumstances demand.

# Sitting here wasted and wounded at this old piano

There is something more hopeful here.

A story of a resilient Britain,

where the deeper claims of family and community

are not at all forgotten,

but far stronger than I'd ever expected.

# Baby, you're all that I need

# I want to lay you down on a bed of roses

# For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails

# I want to be just as close as

# The holy ghost is

# And lay you down

# On a bed of roses. #

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