Footballers don't necessarily work harder if they're paid more. Photo: Getty
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Transfer Deadline Day blows apart scare stories of Labour's plan to reinstate 50p tax rate

How footballers behave on Transfer Deadline Day suggests that raising the top tax rate isn't that dangerous.

Today sees a biannual event in which tens of thousands of people in our country glue themselves to their television and computer screens in a mass monitoring of a rare and globally mobile species. No I am not describing Autumnwatch with Bill Oddie. I am of course talking about Transfer Deadline Day, and the movements of many millionaire footballers across the globe.

The event twice a year when we can all watch members of the 1 per cent truly respond to national tax rates. For example, just monitor the movements today of Radamel Falcao; will he leave the tax haven of Monaco to come to England or Spain? The latter has a new 52 per cent tax rate.

Yet this more tracksuited version of what takes place daily in the financial sector also provides the first opportunity to test whether Labour’s plans to reinstate the 50p tax rate is having the apocalyptic effect that the Tories like to claim. How many of these starlets who are signing in and around the country will refuse to sign up for anything beyond six months for fear of the “war on the better off”, as the Telegraph’s Allister Heath describes a 5 per cent increase in taxation?

One of the big debates over the 50p rate is around the behavioural response it is claimed it creates. Of course there will be those who do choose a country by the lowest marginal tax rate, whether it is 45 per cent or 25 per cent. But the government argues that the behavioural response of such high-paid people coming to our country, and those already working here, would be huge. However, this argument relies on few facts and instead anecdotal evidence – a bit like rumours on Transfer Deadline Day.

Nevertheless, it does not stop there. As according to George Osborne’s logic since April 2012, players such as Wayne Rooney have been playing better, and working harder for their clubs. In fact, we should probably be thanking George Osborne (a Chelsea fan) for the excellent performance of the England team in the World Cup…

This is because the other plank of rightwingers' use of the behavioural argument by which Osborne axed the 50p rate is rarely disputed: that the rich work harder when taxed less. And to be fair, Rooney and other footballers earning over £1,000,000 a year (if we assume they declare this as income) may have indeed been training harder. But would it be because such a millionaire footballer has had an additional £700 a week more added to their current minimum of £20,000 a week?

Don’t get me wrong, £700 is a lot of money to me and most people. But to put it in perspective, that is the equivalent of the median earner who receives £517 a week (£26,800 a year) getting around an extra 18 quid a week more. Again not to be sniffed at, but not even enough for a Wayne Rooney hair appointment.

But would an £18 a week pay rise (or an increase in your wage by a 1/28) considerably raise the work rate of most people? I would hazard a guess that it probably would not in general. For example, would you work longer hours, such as an extra three hours a week, for a marginal pay rise of say £18, or would you be happy to get away at lunchtime on a Friday even if that meant you’d lose £18?

This is of course a relative question, given that those on middle and low incomes are more effected by other taxes such as VAT, than the average Premiership footballer. But surveys have shown that most people would rather work fewer hours even if this led to marginally lower pay. Shouldn’t we assume therefore that top millionaires are no different? Especially when you consider the proportions in pay they are dealing with.

So even if you are not interested in football nor footballers, you should still pay attention to this Transfer Deadline Day, and the whereabouts of Falcao, as it’ll be a prelude to one of the biggest arguments on taxation at the general election.

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Mumslink shows how online parenting networks are coming of age

Women online are changing the relationship between digital domesticity and digital independence. 

The habit of “speaking as a mother” came in for its fair share of criticism this summer. Andrea Leadsom’s insinuation of superiority over Theresa May, her rival for the Tory leadership, elicited widespread scorn – not least from those who have done most to strengthen the voice of mothers as a group: internet mums.

Over the past 15 years, the ten million users a month who log on to Mumsnet have been courted by politicians in webchats and speeches alike. The 2010 general election was even named “the Mumsnet election” in their honour.

From the start, parenting networks attracted users interested in comradeship, as much as those after information. 

For Jo Williamson, a mother-of-two, the trigger was the day her second child left for school, a jarring experience. “I went into a blind panic, thinking: ‘Blimey, I’m going to be sitting in an empty house just waiting for everybody to come back.’” In response, Jo and her business partner Jane Pickard came up with the idea for a new site that focuses on the fluid nature of many women’s professional and family lives.

The resulting network, Mumslink, uses carefully edited news feeds to introduce readers to ideas, businesses and charities that complement all aspects of their lives – from recipe tips to volunteering. “There are so many women out there with a plethora of talents but most of the time, because you’re with your children, nobody asks you to get involved,” Williamson says.

Similar feelings of isolation led Siobhan Freegard to found Netmums, one of the UK’s largest parenting sites. Back in 2000, she had barely heard of “social networks”, nor of Mumsnet, which launched around the same time, yet she knew that mothers needed a place “to share their stories and maybe meet up in the offline world, too”.

Such identity-building led to divisions over “the right way” to be a mother. A tense rivalry developed between the slightly younger Netmums and the more educated and affluent Mumsnetters (Tesco and Waitrose didn’t sponsor different networks for nothing). Within the sites’ pages, differences of opinion over working v stay-at-home parenting sparked allegations of hostility and bullying. Still, the media researcher Sarah Pedersen says there’s an argument that these sites have helped produce a reduction in depression and anxiety, as well as greater opportunities for women to negotiate “the tension between themselves and their role as mothers”.

There are signs that this online culture is growing up. The perception of mums as “a bit insular and thick” is more easily countered, says Justine Roberts, the founder of Mumsnet, “now that so many mothers are able to express their individuality, their interests and their expertise in the public domain”.

According to Freegard, the very act of online sharing has helped begin to repair the rifts within the parenting debate. “With social media, we see working mums and part-time mums, and we see mums changing roles as their children change ages, and we understand that there are different angles to things – that everyone has their story.”

This is more pronounced in the world of video blogging, Freegard says. On her YouTube channel, Channel Mum, people talk calmly about controversial subjects that would have been a “bloodbath” on Netmums, such as ear piercing for very young children. “With video, you can see the person in real life and that helps you feel for their story,” she says.

Perhaps the greatest effect, however, has been on how the internet allows parents to work from home. As many as 160,000 part-time ventures have been started by British women in the past two years alone, self-styled kitchen-table start-ups. Sites such as Mumslink (similarly funded by Williamson and Pickard and run out of the former’s front room in Hertfordshire) aim to help this home-based workforce with new clients. One Mumslinker visits the site to write about her own line of natural nail varnish, another to promote her hot-tub business. The company Digital Mums uses it to encourage women to expand their digital skills.

Commercial savvy is something that Freegard is also keen to develop at Channel Mum – equipping her contributors with financial advice and small stipends. “I remember looking at mummy bloggers and thinking, ‘You guys didn’t get properly organised,’” she says. Freegard points out that most early mum bloggers never grew their audience beyond those already involved in parenting online, and struggled to become more professional as a result.

Quite what the future relationships will be between the brands, businesses and audiences for information on parenting has yet to be established. Some users will baulk at being increasingly cast in the role of consumer. At the same time, the networks’ names – Mumsnet, Netmums, Mumslink, Channel Mum – suggest that parenting is still a woman’s domain.

Yet a better balance seems to be emerging in the relationship between digital domesticity and digital independence. Greater gender equality in the distribution of start-up funding, more job vacancies that allow flexible working, and increasing numbers of prominent women in the tech industry are just some of the things the community is striving to promote. In Britain, which has an ageing population and an ever-growing community of carers, the rise of these networks seems sure to be a net gain for us all. 

For more, visit: mumslink.com

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser