Morrisons has dealt a devastating blow to Britain’s struggling high streets, announcing plans to shut 100 stores in the coming months. The supermarket giant, once a stalwart of Northern towns, has blamed soaring energy costs, falling footfall, and a savage squeeze on household budgets for the drastic move. For the workers who will lose their jobs, it is a gut-wrenching blow. For communities already stripped of banks, post offices, and pubs, it is another nail in the coffin.
The closures will hit the North and Midlands hardest, where Morrisons has a strong presence. In towns like Dewsbury, Rotherham, and Bolton, the supermarket is often the last anchor keeping a high street alive. As one cashier in a soon-to-shutter store in Bradford told me: ‘They’re taking the heart out of the town. Where are we supposed to shop? Where are our kids meant to get jobs?’
The timing could not be worse. With inflation still pinching pay packets, the cost of living crisis shows no sign of easing. Food prices may have stabilised, but wages remain flat, and energy bills are still far higher than two years ago. For families who shop at Morrisons precisely because it was seen as affordable, the closure forces a choice: go further for cheaper food or pay more at a pricier rival.
Morrisons insists the decision is unavoidable. Chief executive Rami Baitiéh, who took the helm last year, has been brutally honest: ‘We need to protect the business. The model that worked for 50 years is no longer viable.’ He has promised to honour all employee rights, with compulsory redundancies a last resort. But for the rank and file, that offers little comfort. Union leaders have pointed out that Morrisons reported profits of £1.1bn last year. They argue this is about maximising shareholder returns, not survival.
This is not just a retail story. It is a labour market story. The 5,000-plus staff affected will find themselves competing for jobs in a market where retail vacancies are shrinking. Many are in their 40s and 50s, with few transferable skills. They have worked for Morrisons for decades, stacking shelves, working tills, building relationships with regulars. Now they face Jobcentres and universal credit.
Regional inequality will worsen. The North has lost nearly a quarter of its department stores since 2015. Morrisons’ exit will leave gaping holes in precincts that already look threadbare. The government talks about ‘levelling up’, but these closures strip away the very infrastructure that makes a place a town rather than a dormitory.
Some will say this is the market at work, which is how we ended up with boom and bust cycles that punish the poorest hardest. But it is worth asking: what is the point of a profitable supermarket if it abandons the communities it built its name on? The company’s decision to shutter stores rather than trim costs elsewhere suggests a short-termism that will store up problems for the future.
For now, shoppers in affected towns are scrambling for options. In many cases, the nearest alternative is a budget chain like Aldi or Lidl, where prices are lower but pay and conditions are often worse. That might be a good deal for the wallet, but it is bad for the local economy. Morrisons buys millions of pounds worth of stock from local suppliers. When a store closes, that supply chain snaps, hitting farmers and producers.
As Sarah Jenkins reports from the ground, the mood is grim. I met a mother of three outside a Leeds branch that will close in June. She said: ‘I’ve shopped here since I was a child. Now I’ll have to get two buses to the next town. It’s unfair.’ It is. And it is a warning sign that the retail carnage is far from over.
