Explainer
Comment
Economics
6 min read

How to tax ethically to avoid a two-tier society

From income tax to property and inheritance taxes, which is fairer?
a pile of coins.
Sarah Agnew on Unsplash.

Few doubt that Chancellor Rachel Reeves will be putting up taxes when she presents her first Budget on October 30th.  

The political narrative of recent months has very much been of an alleged fiscal “black hole” of £22bn - or is it £40bn? - that somehow needs to be filled. 

While the size of the shortfall and the identity of those responsible are both hotly disputed, and despite a lack of detail from the Treasury about what it actually consists of, the questions now being asked are not whether taxes will rise but which ones and by how much.  

Months of speculation have focused on employer National Insurance, capital gains tax and freezing income tax thresholds as areas that Reeves could look to for the additional revenue. 

But beyond the immediate issue of raising enough revenue to make good any shortfall, lies a deeper, trickier question about the way in which taxes should be levied for the good of society. If a government is to force people and companies to hand over their money, then what is the most ethical way to do this? Who should pay and who shouldn’t? How can tax be used to reduce inequality and build a better society? 

Answering such questions is, of course, far from straightforward, because there are plenty of other factors in play. 

For instance, some taxes are surely levied because they are simpler to collect. Take income tax - an unpopular measure introduced in 1799, then abolished before being reintroduced as a supposed temporary measure. It could certainly be argued that taxing people’s income - their attempt to get on in life and improve their lot in life - is less “fair” than taxing wealth that has been accumulated by someone’s ancestors years ago. Working hard and earning income is often surely a way of breaking down class divisions. But income tax - contributing 28 per cent of UK government tax take in 2023-24, according to The Institute for Fiscal Studies - has the advantage that it is relatively difficult for the average worker at a UK company to avoid it. Ease of levying it is surely a driver.  

Equally, some taxes that might seem “fairer” have deliberately not been levied because of the difficulty in collecting them, and/or because to try to do so could be counterproductive.  

A wealth tax, for instance, would be “economically damaging”, according to one of the UK’s highest profile tax experts Dan Neidle. 

Or take the politically contentious issue of non-doms, a colonial era tax break allowing rich foreigners to avoid UK tax on overseas income. It would be fairer, the argument goes, to tax them on the whole of their income. If they are going to be resident in the UK, then surely they should be taxed like a UK resident whose home is here? 

Former Chancellor Jeremy Hunt abolished this regime earlier this year but left a number of concessions that the incoming Labour government pledged to abolish. But non-doms are tax-sensitive and highly mobile, and a number of jurisdictions compete to attract them. Many are entrepreneurs and wealth creators that many countries need. Reports have suggested a clampdown could raise no money or even cost money and could drive people away. 

“Housing is being treated as a commodity. The problem is, it’s not; it’s not just an asset. It has utility value and a communal and quasi-spiritual value, enabling people to feel rooted.” 

Paul Williams

So, what can be done to use tax in an ethical way? Paul Williams, research professor of marketplace theology and leadership at Regent College, Vancouver and chief executive of the Bible Society, takes a Biblical perspective that he believes offers some solutions. 

He takes as his starting point a story from the gospel of Matthew, where Jesus is asked whether people should pay taxes to Caesar. The question is a trap - either Jesus gives his backing to taxation that is highly unpopular with the Jewish people, or he rejects the tax in an act of rebellion against the Romans. 

Jesus replies that they should “pay to the Emperor what belongs to the Emperor, and pay to God what belongs to God.” We are to pay our taxes to those in authority, but we are also to honour God. 

While Williams believes that too much emphasis is placed on the Budget and political parties’ promises to be able to fix everything, and that a more radical rethink of our economy is required, he also sees room for positive tweaks to the current system. 

One key area is the property market, the manifestation of so much inequality in society, with some people owning multiple houses while others cannot afford to buy one. 

Williams argues that the ready availability of debt finance has allowed those who already hold assets to easily acquire properties, turning real estate into an investable asset class to the detriment of many of the poorer in society. 

“The reason there’s so many homeless people and empty houses is due to debt finance. It makes it easy for a relatively small proportion of the population to acquire a large percentage of the assets. 

“The system has allowed a structure in which a small advantage in the beginning can lead to big, big differences over time.” 

Williams highlights parts of Devon and Cornwall that have been, he says, “completely ruined” by wealthy people from elsewhere buying second homes, leaving property “out of reach of anyone who lives and works there”. 

Nevertheless, he believes taxation can be used in this area to help level the playing field. 

He proposes a “pretty punitive” marginal rate of tax on ownership of more than one home. (Stamp duty only partly does the job and is a blunt instrument also affecting people moving homes, thereby makes mobility expensive). 

“You want to disincentivise the way the housing market is used for speculation,” he said. 

“Housing is being treated as a commodity. The problem is, it’s not; it’s not just an asset. It has utility value and a communal and quasi-spiritual value, enabling people to feel rooted.” 

Buy-to-lets, meanwhile, are better than having empty second or third homes, but “wouldn’t it be better if occupiers could buy that house?” he adds. 

Meanwhile, research by the Financial Times recently found a huge wealth gap between the average millennial and the top 10 per cent of millennials, who are benefiting from family wealth to accumulate substantial housing assets.  

So, would increasing the rate of inheritance tax - one of the most hated of taxes - and/or lowering the threshold also help reduce some of this inequality? After all, how is it fair that one child in the UK is born to inherit large property wealth while another is born to inherit little or nothing? Or, even worse, that second child will only ever be able to afford to be the tenant of the first, paying them rent for the rest of their lives? 

Williams is not a fan of inheritance tax per se, arguing that it is “not part of the package” in a Biblical image of a flourishing economy.  

But he adds an important caveat: “the playing field is not level. 

“There might be circumstances to impose a one-off tax on the very wealthy… if you want a transition to a more equitable society.” 

Such steps are not easy to take. It is, he admits, probably “career suicide” for a politician to adopt such views. But if we are to take steps towards a fairer way of life, and avoid a two-tier society in decades to come, then maybe the conversation needs to shift this way. Perhaps the Budget could be the time to start. 

Article
Assisted dying
Care
Comment
Death & life
Suffering
5 min read

Why end of life agony is not a good reason to allow death on demand

Assisted dying and the unintended consequences of compassion.

Graham is the Director of the Centre for Cultural Witness and a former Bishop of Kensington.

A open hand hold a pill.
Towfiqu Barbhuiya on Unsplash.

Those advocating Assisted Dying really have only one strong argument on their side – the argument from compassion. People who have seen relatives dying in extreme pain and discomfort understandably want to avoid that scenario. Surely the best way is to allow assisted dying as an early way out for such people to avoid the agony that such a death involves?  

Now it’s a powerful argument. To be honest I can’t say what I would feel if I faced such a death, or if I had to watch a loved one go through such an ordeal. All the same, there are good reasons to hold back from legalising assisted dying even in the face of distress at the prospect of enduring or having to watch a painful and agonising death.  

In any legislation, you have to bear in mind unintended consequences. A law may benefit one particular group, but have knock-on effects for another group, or wider social implications that are profoundly harmful. Few laws benefit everyone, so lawmakers have to make difficult decisions balancing the rights and benefits of different groups of people. 

It feels odd to be citing percentages and numbers faced with something so elemental and personal and death and suffering, but it is estimated that around two per cent of us will die in extreme pain and discomfort. Add in the 'safeguards' this bill proposes (a person must be suffering from a terminal disease with fewer than six months to live, capable of making such a decision, with two doctors and a judge to approve it) and the number of people this directly affects becomes really quite small. Much as we all sympathise and feel the force of stories of agonising suffering - and of course, every individual matters - to put it bluntly, is it right to entertain the knock-on effects on other groups in society and to make such a fundamental shift in our moral landscape, for the sake of the small number of us who will face this dreadful prospect? Reading the personal stories of those who have endured extreme pain as they approached death, or those who have to watch over ones do so is heart-rending - yet are they enough on their own to sanction a change to the law? 

Much has been made of the subtle pressure put upon elderly or disabled people to end it all, to stop being a burden on others. I have argued elsewhere on Seen and Unseen that that numerous elderly people will feel a moral obligation to safeguard the family inheritance by choosing an early death rather than spend the family fortune on end of life care, or turning their kids into carers for their elderly parents. Individual choice for those who face end of life pain unintentionally  lands an unenviable and unfair choice on many more vulnerable people in our society. Giles Fraser describes the indirect pressure well: 

“You can say “think of the children” with the tiniest inflection of the voice, make the subtlest of reference to money worries. We communicate with each other, often most powerfully, through almost imperceptible gestures of body language and facial expression. No legal safeguard on earth can detect such subliminal messaging.” 

There is also plenty of testimony that suggests that even with constant pain, life is still worth living. Michelle Anna-Moffatt writes movingly  of her brush with assisted suicide and why she pulled back from it, despite living life in constant pain.  

Once we have blurred the line between a carer offering a drink to relieve thirst and effectively killing them, a moral line has been crossed that should make us shudder. 

Despite the safeguards mentioned above, the move towards death on the NHS is bound to lead to a slippery slope – extending the right to die to wider groups with lesser obvious needs. As I wrote in The Times recently, given the grounds on which the case for change is being made – the priority of individual choice – there are no logical grounds for denying the right to die of anyone who chooses that option, regardless of their reasons. If a teenager going through a bout of depression, or a homeless person who cannot see a way out of their situation chooses to end it all, and their choice is absolute, on what grounds could we stop them? Once we have based our ethics on this territory, the slippery slope is not just likely, it is inevitable.  

Then there is the radical shift to our moral landscape. A disabled campaigner argues that asking for someone to help her to die “is no different for me than asking my caregiver to help me on the toilet, or to give me a shower, or a drink, or to help me to eat.” Sorry - but it is different, and we know it. Once we have blurred the line between a carer offering a drink to relieve thirst and effectively killing them, a moral line has been crossed that should make us shudder.  

In Canada, many doctors refuse, or don’t have time to administer the fatal dose so companies have sprung up, offering ‘medical professionals’ to come round with the syringe to finish you off. In other words, companies make money out of killing people. It is the commodification of death. When we have got to that point, you know we have wandered from the path somewhere.  

You would have to be stony-hearted indeed not to feel the force of the argument to avoid pain-filled deaths. Yet is a change to benefit such people worth the radical shift of moral value, the knock-on effects on vulnerable people who will come under pressure to die before their time, the move towards death on demand?  

Surely there are better ways to approach this? Doctors can decide to cease treatment to enable a natural death to take its course, or increase painkillers that will may hasten death - that is humane and falls on the right side of the line of treatment as it is done primarily to relieve pain, not to kill. Christian faith does not argue that life is to be preserved at any cost – our belief in martyrdom gives the lie to that. More importantly, a renewed effort to invest in palliative care and improved anaesthetics will surely reduce such deaths in the longer term. These approaches are surely much wiser and less impactful on the large numbers of vulnerable people in our society than the drastic step of legalising killing on the NHS.