The Beatles and Kinks would be howling about tax in Labour's Britain

Telegraph

20 hours ago

'If you get too cold, I'll tax the heat / If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet / Cause I'm the taxman / Yeah, I'm the taxman.'
Those lyrics by George Harrison are from Taxman, the first song on the Beatles' Revolver album, released in 1966. That same year, the Kinks released Sunny Afternoon, with Ray Davies' blunt first line: 'The taxman's taken all my dough.'
Artists and songwriters are often ahead of the curve – quite literally in this case. For it wasn't until 1974 that US economist Arthur Laffer drew a line on a napkin capturing what Harrison and Davies were saying: as tax rates rise beyond a certain point, entrepreneurs and wealth creators get cheesed off. They then do less – or move overseas – and the broader economy suffers.
What become known as the Laffer curve, sketched at a smart Washington restaurant during a dinner with Republican Party bigwigs, had a profound impact on policymaking in America and elsewhere. Its core idea – that there's an optimal tax rate that maximises revenue, beyond which higher rates lower total revenues by stifling economic activity – was adopted by Ronald Reagan, a showbiz-star-turned-policymaker, as he entered the White House in 1981.
Laffer's insight fed into 'supply-side economics' – the school of thought that finally countered post-war 'big state' ideology. It's no good just borrowing and spending more government money in a bid to boost growth if the tax burden crushes genuine commerce.
Reagan's Economic Recovery Tax Act of 1981 sparked much howling from vested interests grown fat on state largesse. But it cut income tax significantly – and the US averaged 3.5pc annual growth for the rest of the decade, rescuing the world's biggest economy from 1970s stagnation.
Approaching the first anniversary of this Labour Government, UK tax revenues are heading for 38pc of GDP, the highest tax burden since the early 1960s – above levels which riled the Beatles and the Kinks.
Yet the public finances are extremely precarious. The Government borrowed £148bn during the fiscal year that ended in April, £61bn more than the Office for Budget Responsibility estimated when that same fiscal year started.
It's important to remember the vast scale of that 12-month forecasting error during current rows over whether Rachel Reeves, the Chancellor, has a single-digit-billion buffer in the national accounts in four years' time – the 'fiscal headroom' that dominates political discussion.
Arguing obsessively about contingencies of less than 1pc of public spending which may or may not exist in 2029 is pure displacement activity. Our political and media class meanwhile all but ignores today's stark realities – an annual debt interest bill that's twice yearly defence spending and gilt yields consistently way above those seen during Liz Truss's mini-Budget crisis of October 2022.
Yes, it's important to rein-in our runaway benefits bill. Even before the Government's latest cave-in, spending on sickness and disability benefits was set to rise sharply by the end of this decade, from under £50bn to well over £70bn a year, albeit by a few billion less after Labour announced its welfare reforms. Now that Sir Keir Starmer has folded, even that minor slowdown in the rate of increase of benefit spending won't happen.
The only way to fix the public finances is to get growth going, so tax revenues rise and our vast 100pc-of-GDP-plus debt burden, and near-crisis-level debt service costs, fall as a share of national income. But Labour's tax rises since last July have crushed economic activity, curtailing tax revenues and weakening the public finances further – a sure sign we're beyond the peak of the Laffer curve, with yet higher tax rates set to prove even more counter-productive.
The disastrous rise in employers' National Insurance contributions (NICs) has hammered hiring, undermining NIC revenues overall. Employment has fallen every month since the policy was unveiled in last October's budget, by an astonishing 109,000 in May alone, the month after this tax on jobs was introduced.
During that same autumn Budget, Reeves raised capital gains tax from 10pc to 18pc for basic-rate taxpayers and 20pc to 24pc for those paying the higher rate. The Office for Budget Responsibility has since sharply downgraded capital gains tax (CGT) revenue forecasts, wiping £23bn off the projected tax take by 2030.
Labour indulged its ideological fantasies by loading more taxes on non-dom international financiers based in the UK. Now multiple billionaires have fled and foreign direct investment projects have fallen to a two-decade low – imagine the jobs and tax revenues we've lost.
Building on Tory mistakes, Labour increased taxes even more on North Sea drilling, killing off countless energy extraction projects, again destroying valuable revenue streams. Then there's the spiteful imposition of VAT on school fees which has seen four times more pupils withdrawn by cash-strapped households than ministers predicted and countless school closures – another case of more taxation destroying ambition and enterprise, hitting revenues overall.
Back in the early 1980s, inspired by Laffer and Reagan, Margaret Thatcher's Tories lowered tax rates, setting Britain on a path to recovery. David Cameron and Theresa May's governments gradually cut corporation tax (CT) from 28pc in 2010 to 19pc by 2017, with CT revenues hitting 2.7pc of GDP by 2019, up from 2.1pc a decade earlier when the tax rate was much higher.
Taxation is complicated – the historical and contemporary examples above are subject to other factors, too. But evidence of many decades shows that countries where the state is relatively small grow faster and are more prosperous, with those consistently spending beyond their means collapsing into crisis.
The Beatles and the Kinks didn't leave the UK for tax purposes, unlike the Rolling Stones. But their songs captured the national mood, speaking for the silent majority, a mood that prevails today. Taxation is far too high – and raising tax rates even more will only compound Britain's fiscal and commercial weakness.