Sweden isn’t all equal

Even in one of the great egalitarian nations, inequality still exists.

The glass ceiling may look as if it has been smashed in Sweden, but the real equality between men and women is little more than a crack in the pane. As women continue to be primary carers of children, a proper balance between men and women in the work and social spheres has still not been struck. 

In fairness, Sweden deserves its recently unchanged fourth position in the World Economic Forum's most gender-equal countries (the United Kingdom ranked 15th). Unsurprisingly, with equal childcare provision for men and women, and a progressive tax system that provides universal access to higher education and free care for the elderly, women in Sweden appear to have fewer hurdles in the labour market and in social life than men.

Yet annual comprehensive research conducted by the Swedish state department for equality highlights the inequality that still exists in one of the great egalitarian nations. In paid and unpaid work, women are still unequal – despite the extensive legislation and services in place. Male and female parents are given an equal amount of state-paid parental leave that they must take before their child reaches their eighth birthday. Last year, 78 per cent of all parental leave was taken by women. 

Women spend equal amounts of their time on domestic and on paid work; men spend double the amount of time on paid work. Old notions of childrearing clearly cannot be solved with this encouraging piece of legislation – the man is still the main breadwinner, even though 81 per cent of women in Sweden work. 

The gender balance in vocational and academic higher-level courses frames the one of the worst occupationally segregated labour markets in Europe. Within education, nearly all of those graduating in health care and related sciences, childcare and teaching are women. In work, over 85 per cent of those working in nursing and the personal care industries are women. But, despite this, it is men working in the sector who earn the most. Although the gender pay gap in Sweden is lower than it is here in the United Kingdom, pay disparity still exists within and between job sectors.

Last year, more than three times as many women worked less than a 35-hour week as men (34 per cent compared to 11 per cent, respectively) – one of the highest figures in Europe. Part-time work continues to attract lower pay – entrenching the unequal amount of pay and disposable income between men and women.

On average, a single woman without children in Sweden has 28,000 SEK (£2,600) less disposable income than a man each year, the research shows. Women are also much less likely to achieve the highest-paid jobs – only 45,000 women earn over 600,000 SEK (£57,000) a year, compared to 181,000 men. Women remain unable to break through the glass ceiling into high-earning roles.

Social democrats and our Conservative Party counterparts continue to refer to Swedish ideas in the quest for equality. In theory, the Swedish free-school model offers education on a first-come-first-served basis. In practice, free schools are little more than institutions for those who make it to the front of the queue the quickest.

We need more of a reason to implement ideas than "they do it in Sweden".

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war