How the Tories and the Lib Dems broke their VAT promises

David Cameron insisted that the Tories had “absolutely no plans” to raise VAT.

As VAT rises to a record high of 20 per cent, I thought it might be worth looking back at the promises the Lib Dems and the Tories made on the subject during the election.

The Lib Dems famously made their opposition to a VAT increase a centrepiece of their general election campaign, warning of a "Tory VAT bombshell". They were right about that but, presumably, never planned to help drop it.

At that time, Nick Clegg said: "We see absolutely no reason to raise VAT because we have done our homework, we have identified where money can be generated and where money can be saved."


The Conservatives

The Tories' VAT promises have received less scrutiny but, if anything, their disingenuity is worse. Throughout the election campaign, David Cameron repeatedly stated that his party had "absolutely no plans to raise VAT".

He said:

We have absolutely no plans to raise VAT. Our first Budget is all about recognising we need to get spending under control rather than putting up tax.

This falls some way short of a guarantee not to raise VAT, but it also gives no hint of a tax rise that Cameron was planning all along. The grim conclusion is that the Tories hid this tax increase from the voters for electoral purposes.

More strikingly, in May 2009, the Conservative leader suggested that he would never raise a tax that "hits the poorest the hardest". As he said:

You could try, as you say, to put it on VAT, sales tax, but again if you look at the effect of sales tax, it's very regressive, it hits the poorest the hardest. It does, I absolutely promise you. Any sales tax, anything that goes on purchases that you make in shops tends to . . . if you look at it, where VAT goes now it doesn't go on food, obviously, but it goes very, very widely and VAT is a more regressive tax than income tax or council tax.

Both parties have since attempted to justify the VAT rise by arguing that "things were even worse than we thought". But this claim does not bear scrutiny. The Lib Dems and the Tories were fully aware of the size of the Budget deficit and, just ten days after the coalition was formed, the deficit was revised downwards from £163.4bn to £156bn, having previously stood at £178bn. The VAT rise was a political choice, not an economic necessity.

Moreover, £12.4bn of the £13.5bn raised by the increase is being used to pay for tax cuts elsewhere, including to National Insurance and to corporation tax. In the Guardian, Philippe Legrain sets out a range of alternatives to raising VAT, including new taxes on financial transactions, carbon and land.

We are still waiting for a convincing justification for a tax rise that is not only unfair, but also economically reckless.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood