Being out of work harms your health – even if it's because you've retired

A new report finds that, after a small boost in health, retirement isn't as refreshing as many think.

A curious thing has been happening with regard to retirement patterns in developed countries: we have been living longer and retiring earlier. Between 1968 and 1999, employment amongst 60-64 year old men fell from 80 per cent to 50 per cent – although it has picked up a little since. In Italy, an incredible 80 per cent of 60-64 year olds are not in employment. This has all happened during a period when life expectation has increased dramatically. In many EU countries, a significant number of people could well spend more time in retirement than working.

Of course, as we get more prosperous we would expect to have more leisure. But there comes a point when financing a longer retirement from a shorter working life becomes unsustainable. Most EU countries, with their state pension schemes designed so that the taxes of the declining working generation pay the pensions of the older generation, have reached the point where huge financial burdens are likely to fall on the next generation of workers. One way to square the circle is to promote more private and funded pension provision. However, one of the few countries that was pursuing this policy – the UK – has now decided to change tack and increase state pensions whilst reducing incentives for private provision.

This leaves working longer as the only safety valve in the system. And many countries have, indeed, been raising state pension ages. However, a concern often expressed by those campaigning against such changes is that it will lead to more ill health. It is argued that people will suffer from stress and will not have the physical capacity to continue their working lives without damaging their health further.

Much of the evidence in this area has been mixed. The indications were that retirement and ill health were correlated but it could be that people who are not well tend to retire early. A new IEA study manages to untangle the evidence. It finds that there can be an immediate “holiday effect” from retirement whereby health improves. However, health then deteriorates after a while. It is found that, over the long term, retirement increases the probability of suffering from depression by 40 per cent and the probability of having at least one diagnosed physical condition by about 60 per cent.

This provides considerable evidence that there can be a “win-win” from the government raising the state pension age much more rapidly. Currently, the government expects to raise the state pension age to 68 by about 2047. By that time, in fact, life expectation at retirement will actually increase – longevity is increasing quicker than the state pension age is being raised. A higher state pension age could lower healthcare costs as well as reduce state pension costs. Secondly, the government should deregulate labour markets – especially for older people. Reducing the risks to employers of hiring older people is likely to widen the range of working opportunities available to them – especially with regard to part-time work. Finally, it is important to ensure that state incapacity benefits are used as a route back into work wherever possible and not used as an early retirement option. The government seems to be making good progress here but, if anything, on the first two policy options it seems to be going backwards.

A notable retiree says goodbye to his old workplace. Photograph: Getty Images

Philip Booth is Editorial and Programme Director at the Institute of Economic Affairs.

 

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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