The tax and benefit system is basically broken for couples with children

If you wanted to disincentivise work for the poorest, this is how you'd do it.

Last week, this IFS chart showing the effect of the child benefit withdrawal on marginal tax rates made quite an effect:

IFS Chart

I wrote about it myself, arguing that it underemphasised how bad the effect would be on families with lots of children. But the chart also plays down how bad the existing system is. The interplay between benefits, income tax and national insurance results in marginal tax rates which increase and decrease in a haphazard and unpredictable way, and frequently reach astronomic levels.

The IEA's Philip Booth looked at what he calls "the simplest possible case… of a couple with three children not claiming Housing Benefit, Council Tax Benefit or assistance with child-care costs (or a host of other ad hoc benefits that are available)." The figures were compiled in May last year, but are based on the state of affairs this May – so there may be some lags in exact amounts, but the overall picture remains accurate, at least pre-Universal Credit. Here they are charted in the same format as the IFS'

Chart Two

It's clear that for this case, the tax and benefit system is almost entirely backwards. The largest rates are paid at the bottom end of the income scale, progressively declining to 42 per cent, before finally, at the very top end, increasing to a "high" of 47 per cent.

And as Booth says, this is the simplest possible case. For someone in this situation claiming all the benefits they were entitled to, it's highly likely that at least one of the marginal rates would break 100 per cent – and that the tiny patch of 0 per cent at the very poorest end would disappear entirely.

While Bond and I agree on the problem, it's unlikely we would match minds on the solution. To me, the data above illustrates the fundamental folly of thinking that withdrawing benefits can ever really make economic sense. It is, prima facie, a strong argument for a Green-style citizen's income. Remove the conditionality from benefits and you have a system which encourages work at all income levels, rather than stamping on motivation the minute a family is no longer nominally "poor".

Raphaelle and Fabienne pose with one of their three children. Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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