Tottenham’s furloughing of staff was an act of moral vandalism that history will not forget The Covid-19 crisis will cause a sea change in society and football must not be so arrogant as to believe it can sit above that alteration

Tottenham have never been shy of talking up the help they provide to their local community. The total number of jobs created by the construction, maintenance and functioning of their new stadium stood at 2,762, according to a story on their own website. Tottenham worked closely with Haringey Council to ensure that as many jobs as possible went to local residents.

That matters in Haringey. The borough has one of the highest poverty rates in London, with more than a third of people living in poverty. The cuts to local government funding during a time of economic challenge have made life noticeably tougher. On a micro level, Tottenham has some of the highest levels of child poverty in the area, with parents reliant on consistent employment and pay to make ends meet. Thanks to the actions of the club, many of them will now be forced to manage with less.

Three hundred miles north, where London feels so far away it might as well be a foreign land, they know the same struggle against financial hardship only too well. More than 20 per cent of Newcastle’s population lives in areas that rank among the most deprived 10 per cent in the country, while the percentage of children living in poverty is 10 per cent above the national average. There too, their football club has just made things worse.

There is nothing technically wrong with Tottenham, Newcastle United and any other Premier League club furloughing staff during a period when their services will not be required. The Government’s emergency retention scheme was designed to avoid mass redundancies and persuade concerned companies not to lay off staff at a time of potential financial crisis. They have guaranteed that employers can claim 80 per cent of wages for furloughed staff for a period of at least three months.

But the implementation of a furloughing exercise was surely intended to be restricted to those organisations who were most at risk of financial implosion. Two weeks before Tottenham’s non-playing staff executed the measures, the club announced annual revenues of £460.7m and an operating profit of £63m. Newcastle too announced a profit of £19m for 2017-18 and their forthcoming accounts are likely to reveal a further rise after another full season in the Premier League. Only five Premier League clubs – according to the most recent estimates – are not funded or owned (wholly or partly) by a billionaire.

In the context of those figures, asking the Government – and therefore, eventually, the taxpayer – to cover wages is an act of moral vandalism. This is an extraordinary period in our lives where strategy should be implemented according to ethical principles as well as pure business action. If you can choose to help others, you should. When Government ministers are accusing you of existing in a “moral vacuum” and not causing raised eyebrows, it’s fair to say that you have wantonly ignored ethics.

Counter-intuitively, it’s the 20 per cent shortfall that is most galling. For the club that is a difference of a few hundred thousand pounds, the weekly wages of two or three key players. But for those workers affected, it might be the difference between having a small amount of disposable income and having none, or staying on the right side of an overdraft limit. Was it really worth it?

Some larger Premier League clubs have chosen the path of righteousness. Manchester United will pay their casual staff in full even if their home games are cancelled or played behind closed doors. Liverpool have continued to pay all staff despite the lack of live football in order to ensure they can keep their heads above water. Both gestures are likely to cost the clubs around £1m, or approximately 0.2 per cent of their annual revenue. If this crisis extends and does cause them severe financial headaches, it will not be paying caterers, retail staff and stewards that tips the balance.

Football has long enjoyed standing with a foot in both camps of leisure pursuit and big business. For so many supporters it is a form of social escapism that is laid most bare in its absence, an effective measure of normality. But we are also consumers and, uniquely, unhelpfully loyal customers. If Sports Direct and Virgin may face a consumerist backlash for their naked self-interest, rapacious football clubs are unlikely to do the same. If your favourite washing powder manufacturer is discovered to use slave labour, you might change products. Tottenham supporters are unlikely to switch to Arsenal or Chelsea.

The Covid-19 crisis will cause a sea change in society. We will emerge from our homes and into the comparative sanctity of our previous lives with our priorities – and perhaps even our morals – altered forever. That will hopefully be reflected in a growing sense of community, but it will also be undermined by financial struggles that are likely to be exacerbated by future tax increases.

Football must not be so arrogant as to believe it can sit above that social alteration. The slow dance with hyper-capitalism forced the game into a manufactured bubble, but that bubble risks being burst. Money for tickets, merchandise and travel will be harder to find. No longer can they rely on unwavering loyalty from those whose loyalty persuaded them to turn a blind eye to their own mistreatment.

Most of all, history will look back unfavourably on those who abandoned morality when it was most required. The sugary cliche of the football family only lasts for as long as those at the top hold it dear. Judge your football club over the next six months not by its results or its transfer activity, but in how it treats the most vulnerable within its nest.