Should zero-hours contracts be banned?

Banning something that works well for some people just because others are abusing it doesn’t make sense.

The blogger Stephen Tovey recently pointed out that zero-hours contracts can work well for both employer and employee. He’s right, of course. I’ll let you into a secret. I introduced zero-hours contracts back in the last century. Did I do it to exploit desperate workers and grind the faces of the poor? Well, not quite. These were very different times. Britain was coming out of recession and the organisation I was working for was in an area with almost no unemployment. The economy was growing at close to 4 percent.  (Yes, kids, it used to do that in the olden days.) Work was plentiful and we just couldn’t find people to take up full-time or part-time permanent roles. We tried putting the wages up but all the other employers were doing that too. There just weren’t enough people looking for permanent jobs. Zero-hours contracts was a way of trying to solve our labour shortage.

I remember not being entirely convinced that it would work but we decided to give it a go anyway. (Evidence-based management this wasn’t but we had to try something.) The unions were a bit dubious but, once we’d persuaded them that we were not trying to replace full-time workers, that getting the extra help would relieve pressure on the permanent staff and that having our own pool of casual workers would stop us having to pay fees to grasping temp agencies, they were ok with it. In the end, the new contracts were a great success. They opened up opportunities for people who would not otherwise have been able to work and gave the employer access to a whole new supply of labour. As I remember, there was very little complaint from either the managers or the staff. For the most part, zero-hours contracts seemed to work well both for employer and employee.

An interesting story, perhaps, but enough of the anecdotes. What does the data say? Well, the picture is not entirely clear. 

Some of it seems to support the view that many people are happy with zero-hours contracts. According to a study by the Work Foundation earlier this year, 80 per cent of people on zero-hours contracts are not looking for another job. Only 26 per cent of them said they wanted longer hours, which implies that around three-quarters are content with their current work pattern. To put this in perspective, the Work Foundation reckoned that 200,000 people were employed on zero hours contracts, which is only 0.7 per cent of the workforce, so we are not talking about a massive group of people.

However, more recent studies suggest that these figures might be on the low side. Research by the Resolution Foundation concluded that 200,000 was almost certainly an under-estimate and a parliamentary reply last month put the number at 307,000 in the social care sector aloneThis paper from Leeds University found that in 2012, nearly 60 per cent of care workers and around a quarter of their managers and supervisors were on zero hours contracts. It is likely, then, that the 0.7 per cent figure is a conservative estimate.

What most studies seem to agree on is that the number is rising. As the Work Foundation’s figures show, the use of zero-hours contracts broadly reflects the state of the economy. 

The numbers fall as the economy improves, there is a slight rise during the slowdown of the early 2000s and then a steep rise during and after the financial crisis. This suggests that firms are, to an extent, using zero-hours contracts to avoid making the commitment of taking on permanent staff when orders are volatile and uncertain.

Zero-hours contracts are used predominantly for unskilled or semi-skilled labour. The further you go up the income scale, the less likely you are to be on one. 

The relatively high figure for professionals looks like an anomaly but I suspect it conceals a wide variation in earnings. In the professional occupations, part-timers earn, on average, higher hourly rates than their full-time counterparts. Among some of the professionals on zero-hours contracts are probably a few very highly paid people who work when they feel like it and others who have been made redundant and have joined the growing army of desperate odd jobbers.

And this probably reflects the wider pattern. Zero-hours contracts are like part-time work, temporary work, interim contracts and self-employment. When the economy is good and there is plenty of employment, they give people more flexibility to work when and where they like. For those with highly marketable skills, income from a variety of sources or a spouse as the main earner, they enable people to pick and choose the sort of work they do.

On the other hand, when the economy is in the doldrums and the workforce under-employed, zero-hours contracts mean uncertainty and fear. For those with lower skill levels or for whom the zero hours job is the main household income, the precariousness of their situation can be terrifying.

There is evidence that, in some areas, the element of choice in the zero-hours contract has almost disappeared for the employee. The Resolution Foundation found that employees faced the threat of 'zeroing-down' – so if they refused to work then they wouldn’t be offered work in the future. The study concluded:

[I]t is clear that for the majority of those employed on zero-hours contracts this freedom and choice are more apparent than real. For those individuals who require a minimum number of working hours per week to ensure their family is financially secure or those who, confronting severe power imbalances in the workplace, fear that turning down hours as and when offered will result in future work being withdrawn, life on a zero-hours contract is one of almost permanent uncertainty.

It is for these reasons that some, like Labour’s Andy Burnham, have called for a ban on zero-hours contracts. That would be a bit premature though. It’s rather like the ban on contractors in government which was proposed last year. Banning something that works well for some people just because others are abusing it doesn’t make sense. Zero-hours contracts serve a purpose, just as interims, part-time workers and contractors do. In any case, some employment lawyers reckon that an outright ban would be difficult to implement.

There is clearly still a lot we don’t know about the extent of zero-hours contracts and how wide-ranging the abuse associated with them really is. Vince Cable’s review is therefore a good start, though some have called for a more detailed investigation.

There’s a more fundamental point here though. Zero-hours contracts are being used to exploit people for the same reasons that wages are being held down, in-work benefits have gone up and self-employment is at record levels. The economy is in the doldrums, the workforce is under-employed and the balance of power between employer and employee has swung in the employer’s favour. Like so many other aspects of the labour market, the exploitation of people on zero-hours contracts is a symptom of the wider economic collapse. Ban zero-hours contracts and the problems associated with them will probably re-appear in another form.

Flip Chart Rick is the author of the Flip Chart Fairy Tales blog, where this post originally appeared.

Domino's Pizza is one of the companies that has made widespread use of zero-hours contracts, with around 90% of its 23,000 UK staff on the contracts. Photograph: Getty Images.

Flip Chart Rick is the author of the Flip Chart Fairy Tales blog

ELLIE FOREMAN-PECK FOR NEW STATESMAN
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The triumph of Misbah-ul-Haq, the quiet grafter

How Misbah redeemed Pakistani cricket.

It was an incongruous sight: the entire Pakistani cricket team doing press-ups on the revered pitch at Lord’s, led by its captain, Misbah-ul-Haq. This unusual celebration marked not merely a Test match victory over England on Sunday but something greater: the rehabilitation of Pakistani cricket.

Seven years earlier, the Sri Lankan team bus was en route to the cricket stadium in Lahore for the third day of a Test match against Pakistan when it was attacked by Islamist militants. Gunfire killed six police officers and a driver; several Sri Lankan cricketers were also injured. That was the last Test match played in Pakistan, which, despite protestations, opponents consider too dangerous to visit.

A year later, Pakistan toured England for a Test series. The News of the World alleged that in the final match at Lord’s three Pakistani cricketers had conspired to bowl no-balls in exchange for money. All three received bans of five years or more for corruption. The entire squad was lampooned; police had to shield its members from abuse as they arrived home.

Misbah was on the periphery of all of this. Aged 36 at the time, he was dropped from the squad before the English tour and seemed unlikely to play international cricket again. But the turbulence engulfing Pakistani cricket forced the selectors to reassess. Not only was Misbah recalled but he was made captain. “You have to ask yourself,” he later said: “‘Have I been the captain because they supported me, or because they had no alternatives?’”

Pakistani cricket prizes and mythologises teenage talent plucked from obscurity and brought into the international side. During his decade as captain, Imran Khan picked 11 teenagers to make their debuts, often simply on the basis of being wowed by their performance in the nets. Misbah shows that another way is possible. He grew up in Mianwali, a city that was so remote that: “The culture there wasn’t such that you thought about playing for Pakistan.”

At the behest of his parents, he devoted his early twenties not to his promising batting but to gaining an MBA. Only at 24 did he make his first-class debut, strikingly late in an age when professional sportsmen are expected to dedicate all their energy to the game from their teenage years.

Pakistani cricket has always been “a little blip of chaos to the straight lines of order”, Osman Samiuddin writes in The Unquiet Ones. Misbah has created order out of chaos. He is unflappable and methodical, both as a captain and as a batsman. His mood seems impervious to results. More than anything, he is resilient.

He has led Pakistan to 21 Test victories – seven more than any other captain. He has done this with a bowling attack ravaged by the 2010 corruption scandal and without playing a single match at home. Because of security concerns, Pakistan now play in the United Arab Emirates, sometimes in front of fewer than a hundred supporters.

Misbah has developed a team that marries professionalism with the self-expression and flair for which his country’s cricket is renowned. And he has scored runs – lots of them. Over his 43 Tests as captain, he has averaged at 56.68. Few have been so empowered by responsibility, or as selfless. He often fields at short leg, the most dangerous position in the game and one usually reserved for the team’s junior player.

Misbah has retained his capacity to surprise. As a batsman, he has a reputation for stoic defence. Yet, in November 2014 he reached a century against Australia in just 56 balls, equalling the previous record for the fastest ever Test innings, held by Viv Richards. The tuk-tuk had become a Ferrari.

Late in 2015, Misbah tried to retire. He was 41 and had helped to keep Pakistani cricket alive during some of its darkest days. But the selectors pressured him to stay on, arguing that the team would need him during its arduous tours to England and Australia.

They were right. His crowning glory was still to come. The team arrived in England following weeks of training with the national army in Abbottabad. “The army people are not getting much salaries, but for this flag and for the Pakistani nation, they want to sacrifice their lives,” Misbah said. “That’s a big motivation for all of us. Everyone is really putting effort in for that flag and the nation.”

Now 42, almost a decade older than any cricketer in England’s side, Misbah fulfilled a lifetime’s ambition by playing in a Test match at Lord’s. In Pakistan’s first innings, he scored a century and celebrated with push-ups on the outfield, in homage to the army’s fitness regime and those who had had the temerity to mock his age.

When Pakistan secured victory a little after 6pm on the fourth evening of the game, the entire team imitated the captain’s push-ups, then saluted the national flag. The applause for them reverberated far beyond St John’s Wood.

“It’s been a remarkable turnaround after the 2010 incident,” Misbah-ul-Haq said, ever undemonstrative.

He would never say as much, but he has done more than anyone else to lead Pakistan back to glory. 

Tim Wigmore is a contributing writer to the New Statesman and the author of Second XI: Cricket In Its Outposts.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt