It feels like grief, doesn’t it? As we come to understand
everything that we seem to have lost in the space of a week. The jobs that
disappeared overnight. The cancellations of events we were looking forward to
and had worked hard to put on. The places that we took for granted and now
can’t visit. And the people that we saw when went there. The casual chats. The
smiles. The catching up. The promises to be in touch.
I’ve definitely been going through the stages of that grief.
Denial. Well, the government did that for us with their ‘herd
immunity’ bollocks. Still, I think we all had an idea that they viewed us as
cattle. However, it does feel like we were all kidding ourselves. Holding off
cancelling things, just in case it all blew over.
Bargaining: Again, the government did that for us –
stupidly. They struck a bargain with the UK that we knew couldn’t be kept. They
told cafes, theatres, cinemas and pubs that they could stay open on the
understanding that no-one actually went there. They put business owners in an
impossible position morally and financially. And what it worse they gave us
false hope. A hope that maybe if everyone was just a bit sensible, we could
keep calm and carry on.
I’m a cockeyed optimist but after the last few years, even I
didn’t think we could rely on the entire Great British Public to be sensible.
There was always going to be a hardcore minority of idiots who were going to
ruin it for the rest of us.
Of course, the vast majority of people did and will do the
right thing. Including many people who run venues in my beloved Leeds. My inbox
filled with heartfelt apologies for inconvenience from theatre spaces, clubs,
bars, restaurants and those who have been at the heart of a burgeoning and uplifting
arts scene in my glorious hometown. People I personally know have given
everything to provide a bit of joy and entertainment – time, energy, money,
love, themselves.
And so, as I slipped into the depression stage, I cried for
them. I cried for the fragile new businesses who were scrambling to salvage
something. I cried for the stoics who were repurposing their premises and
workforces to be kind and useful in this hour of need.
And then, via the blessing/curse that is social media, came
another wave of sadness. Overnight, it really felt like everyone I knew and
loved had lost their livelihoods. Actors, musicians, writers, directors,
producers, stage technicians, camera-operators, radio presenters, comedians…
The list goes on and on. And almost all of them are freelancers, like me.
Look, freelancers are used to things being a bit up and
down. Things get cancelled, funding doesn’t materialise, people change their
minds. And we try to mitigate that risk as much as we can. I think every
freelancer has a series of measures they
can put in place to lower their overheads when money is tight. We’re a
superstitious bunch who try not jinx contracts before they are signed by
talking about them. We try not to spend any money that we haven’t invoiced for.
We are cautious in our optimism.
However, NOBODY could have had an action plan in place to
anticipate the havoc that Covid-19 is having on our industry. Nobody can be
prepared for every booking to disappear from the diary with absolutely no
guarantee of when and if they will reappear.
And so, when the government (quite rightly) guaranteed the
incomes of the employed who had been effected by the pandemic but chose not to
extend the same safety net to freelancers, I hit the next stage of grief.
Burning, glowing, red, hot ANGER.
And that anger was not soothed by seeing government
ministers claiming it was ‘too complex’ to offer any serious financial help to
freelancers. It’s not at all complex. The government has all the information
they need at their fingertips via HMRC. With three years of tax returns, they
can calculate the average annual income of any freelancer and offer the same
deal as has been offered to those who are PAYE. Subject to the same limits.
And what will happen if they do not offer that help? It is
currently beyond the limits of my tiny mind to comprehend what we will lose if
we do not support freelancers at this time. The work, the entertainment, the
creativity that this country is lucky to have. But those are wishy-washy leftie
ideals. So, let me appeal to the Tories in a language that they claim to understand
- money.
The creative industries contributed £111.7 billion of value
to the UK economy in 2018. That is £127 million per hour. (source)
With an estimated 2,040,000 jobs - 75 per cent of them
outside London - the UK's creative industries are developing new jobs faster
than other sectors despite record employment in the UK economy as a whole. (source)
The Office for National Statistics said that the Film &
TV industry saved the UK economy from stagnating in amongst the Brexit bullshit
in 2019. (source)
The Creative Industries rely on freelancers with their
flexibility and specialised skill sets. We lose that at our peril. We already
have skills gaps in our industry and that will be exacerbated if we lose people
because their work becomes financially unsustainable – even for a short time.
And so, I will not be slipping into the final stage of
grief; Acceptance.
I will fight tooth and nail to make sure that freelancers
and the self-employed in this country are valued in the same way as other
workers. I will use my platform to call out this iniquity and to pressure those
in power to put it right. I will not accept that this is the way it has to be.
Because when this is all over – and it will be over – the
UK’s best chance for recovery both financially and emotionally is the creative
industries. But there is no creativity or industry without our freelancers.
