Is tax Britain’s problem? No – it’s housing

In obsessing over the mansion tax we risk ignoring the real issue.

Amid talk of mansion and jewelry taxes, it’s interesting to reflect on The New York Times’ recent piece "The Myth of the Rich Who Flee From Taxes".

Rather than moving to avoid tax, the paper reports that:

A large majority of people move for far more compelling reasons, like jobs, the cost of housing, family ties or a warmer climate. At least three recent academic studies have demonstrated that the number of people who move for tax reasons is negligible, even among the wealthy.

One of those studies, "Tax Flight Is a Myth", is particularly notable. It finds that, although there are huge discrepancies between tax rates in different US states, under a third of US citizens change their state of residence over their lifetime.

Some people certainly do move for financial reasons – only not the ones that we might assume. New Jersey introduced an annual additional tax on those with incomes over $500,000 in 2004; by the end of 2007, no more than 70 tax filers had left the state and New Jersey was a net $3.75bn better off than under the old tax system.

It is property prices that are much more important. Consider the case of Florida: with no state income tax, you might expect the state to be flooded with those wishing to escape taxes. Except, in the late 2000s, Florida’s population actually declined. Lack of state income taxation might have been appealing, but it couldn’t make up for Florida’s rapidly rising housing prices.

What can the UK learn from these studies? Retaining the 50p tax rate probably wouldn’t have led to the wealth exodus that George Osborne feared. And for something labelled “socialist” the proposed mansion tax is striking in its caution: someone with a house worth £3m would pay only £10,000 extra a year. It wouldn’t raise the redistributive sums the left hopes, and nor would it punish successful businessmen as the right fears.

In obsessing over the mansion tax we risk ignoring the real issue. As in the case of Florida, Britain’s economy is undermined by the exorbitant cost of housing. According to Halifax, the average age of first-time house buyers is now 30, and it is 32 in London (pdf). Rather than debate the morals of taxing houses, we need to focus on how to make housing more affordable.

Taxing homes like this wouldn't have the impact either the left or right predict Photograph: Getty Images

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

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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism