Thatcherism – or neoliberalism, whichever you want to call it – tried to bulldoze every last remnant of solidarity we felt – and it failed. “We have to move this country in a new direction,” Margaret Thatcher declared after her first election triumph, “to change the way we look at things, to create a wholly new attitude of mind.”

I wonder how she would feel reading a new survey by the European commission asking EU citizens whether, by 2030, they would prefer a society that gave more importance to solidarity or to individualism. She would undoubtedly be heartened to find that Britain comes joint top of the individualism league table. But she would probably be dispirited to read that only 29% favoured individualism, with a solid 52% hoping for more solidarity.

Is an individual saddled with debt, who lives in fear of gas bills landing on their doormat, truly free?

That doesn’t mean there aren’t formidable challenges to building socialism in modern Britain. The fragmentation of society has been pursued as a deliberate Tory strategy ever since the days of Thatcher. After her triumph over Michael Foot, the late Tory leader lamented that “socialism was still built into the institutions and mentality of Britain”. She listed as examples the high level of union membership, the millions who remained council tenants, and a leftwing ethos in education.

There has been devastating progress in rolling back the first two. Trade union membership has plummeted from a peak of 13.2 million in 1979 to just 6.2 million: last year saw the biggest annual fall in numbers since records began. And the number of council homes has fallen by an astonishing 69% since 1980. Collective bonds have been severed as a matter of government policy.

There are several reasons why rampant individualism sits at the core of the Tory project. Individualism promotes the idea that our successes in life are purely down to our own efforts. That rationalises inequality, because it perpetuates the myth that the wealthiest are the brightest and hardest working while the poorest are the stupidest and the laziest. Inequality simply becomes just desserts, rather than the sign of a society rigged in favour of a lucky minority. Tax becomes a punishment for success rather than a contribution to the collective kitty.

Individualism transforms social problems such as poverty and unemployment into personality defects, rather than the ills of a poorly constructed society – to be cured by a change in an individual’s attitude rather than by collective solutions, such as a welfare state. It erodes a sense that the majority have shared interests and aspirations, which are not only different from those of the elite, but on a collision course with them. It is fatal to the logical conclusion of this sentiment: that the majority should deploy their collective strength to challenge the concentrated wealth and power of the few.

As a dogma, this form of individualism is a formidable obstacle to socialism. But in practice it has increasingly resulted in insecurity: no wonder, then, that solidarity is so hankered after by so many. Labour has an opportunity to fashion a new individualism, with the promise that only socialism can liberate the individual.

Economic hardship, after all, imposes stultifying constraints on human freedom. Is an individual saddled with debt, who lives in fear of energy bills landing on their doormat, and who has to choose between a hot meal for themselves or their children, truly free? The private tenant whose income is devoured by rent, and who can be evicted at the whim of their landlord, lacks freedom, as does the child with nowhere to study in an overcrowded home. So does the worker on a zero-hours contract who cannot plan a month or even a week ahead because they don’t know when they’ll be working or how much they’ll be paid. By robbing individuals of security, neoliberalism has robbed them of freedom too.

And that’s why the dichotomy between collectivism and individualism is a false one, because all individuals flourish only by standing on the shoulders of others. The provision of secure, decently paid jobs; a properly funded education system that unlocks individual potential; the building of comfortable and affordable homes; the elimination of student debt: all these will allow the individual to prosper and thrive. But that requires a collective approach – or socialism, as it is commonly called.

Britain could make a bold statement to the world about solidarity and individual rights. A written constitution, for example, could enshrine the rights currently threatened by Tory plans to repeal the Human Rights Act, such as the right to free speech and peaceful protest, a fair trial, and against discrimination. It could go further, too, by including social and economic rights such as the right to a home, the right to social security, and the right to be free of poverty.

The liberation of the individual can take other forms too, which aren’t simply about freedom from insecurity. One of Jeremy Corbyn’s aides recently asked me to guess what, in his stump speeches, gets the loudest cheer. It wasn’t a living wage, or scrapping tuition fees, or taxing the rich, or public ownership of the utilities. It was an arts pupil premium to allow young people to learn how to play musical instruments, take part in drama or go to local theatres. This is an illustration of collectivism – how the state pooling the resources gleaned from progressive taxation can help build well-rounded individuals who can realise their talents.

Partly because of the calamity of the murderous Stalinist experiment, socialism has often been construed as an attack on the individual. When Clement Attlee’s Labour party was on the verge of power in 1945, Winston Churchill notoriously warned: “No socialist government conducting the entire life and industry of the country could afford to allow free, sharp, or violently worded expressions of public discontent. They would have to fall back on some sort of Gestapo.” But Labour’s radical policies extended individual freedom: not just by bringing Britain into the European convention on human rights, but by freeing the individual from the insecurity of poor housing, the threat of unemployment, and the lack of affordable healthcare.

Solidarity isn’t always a good thing in itself. The old industrial communities had a strong sense of togetherness – but in a very male, white way. Solidarity has been harnessed by the populist right to conjure up an image of communities eroded by mass immigration: their adoption of an “us” and “them” mentality really translates into pitting “native Britons” against “immigrants”. This populism has exploited the insecurity that neoliberal individualism has entrenched in practice. Solidarity that excludes oppressed and exploited groups is not worthy of the name.

But as Thatcher warned in her memoirs: “Socialism represents an enduring temptation: no one should underestimate Labour’s potential appeal.” She was right about that, if not much else.

• Owen Jones is a Guardian columnist