'Road tax' rears its ugly head again for England's cyclists
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Version 0 of 1. As a man who seems to mainly get the bike out when there are press photographers around, George Osborne probably never thought what potential troubles he was causing the two-wheeled with his changes to vehicle excise duty in his summer budget. The zombie is alive. “Road tax” is back. Well, sort of. Many people who have ridden a bike in Britain will have heard the traditional calling cry of the angry, not-so-well-informed motorist: “You lot don’t even pay for the roads!” This is a reference to the belief that the money raised from what remains stubbornly known as “road tax” is entirely used to build and maintain roads. Until yesterday it was not just wrong but had been wrong for 78 years. The link was cut in 1937, a process initially instigated by none other than Winston Churchill. Since then all roads have been funded out of general taxation. But the belief has lumbered on through the decades. It might seem an innocent error, but the strong impression of many cyclists is that it helps fuel a sense of entitlement among a minority of drivers that the roads are their own. It seems no coincidence that the loudest adherents of the view often tend to be those most keen to skim, tailgate or otherwise frighten the living daylights out of cyclists. Does the belief in road tax make cycling more dangerous in Britain? It’s impossible to prove. But I’d argue yes, very, very slightly. Related: Sabotage and hatred: what have people got against cyclists? The cycling journalist Carlton Reid has waged a tireless, one-man campaign on the issue, maintaining the arguably confusingly-named I Pay Road Tax website, even making cycle jerseys bearing the slogan and asking companies to correct the use of “road tax” in publications. For decades, the Treasury has tended to resist hypothecation, which means holding back the proceeds of a particular tax for a certain use. This is mainly to give them maximum leeway in deciding what to spend, when and where, but is also connected to worries hypothecation can give payers of a certain tax a false feeling of proprietorship. But in yesterday’s summer budget, Osborne resurrected this zombie to the land of the properly living. Osborne first announced a change to the mechanics of vehicle excise duty, or VED, the modern equivalent of road tax. The charge for this is based on specific emissions, but as the chancellor noted, improving vehicle technology meant that within two years 75% of new cars would be zero-rated, something he argued was unfair on those only able to afford older models. Thus, from 2017, revised bands – three rather than the current 13, meaning the big polluters paying far less – will apply to new cars. Then came the surprise coda: I will return this tax to the use for which it was originally intended. I am creating a new roads fund. From the end of this decade, every single penny raised in Vehicle Excise Duty in England will go into that fund to pay for the sustained investment our roads so badly need. Tax paid on people’s cars will be used to improve the roads they drive on. This, I’d argue, is quite alarming. Reid, writing on the BikeBiz industry website which he also edits, agreed: By resurrecting ‘road tax’ – and reducing the costs of owning large, polluting cars – Osborne is pandering to a Shires Tory audience. Such an audience would normally chime with the thoughts and beliefs of Winston Churchill but it’s not very well known that he thought the ‘road fund’ should be abolished to prevent a sense of ‘ownership’ of the public highway by motorists. There are, of course, caveats to all this. First of all, as Osborne said, the plan only applies for now to England – the other nations’ devolved governments can decide if they follow suit. Then, of course, there’s the many logical rebuttals. For example, many cyclists also own a car, even cars. British Cycling’s data shows 90% of its members are drivers. Then there’s the very obvious fact that always escapes the road tax militants: as (virtually) zero-emission vehicles, bikes would be rated at, well, zero, even if they were liable. Heading further into the sort of nuanced territory rarely trodden by the four-wheeled shouters, a “road tax” will not even cover the cost of roads, let alone the many other associated bills from motor vehicle use. VED currently amounts to slightly under £6bn a year (and Osborne has said the overall take will not much change), against more than £9bn a year spent on roads. But what of other such taxes, notably fuel duty? The combined annual total is a hefty £38bn or so. Balancing this are the so-called externalities of motoring, the indirect costs. A 2012 study by transport academics at Dresden Technical University in Germany calculated that drivers in the UK ran up costs of around £48bn a year in externalities like crashes, pollution and noise. The study didn’t even take into account traffic congestion or poor health associated with inactivity. There are criticisms of this paper, not least that it was commissioned by the Green group in the European parliament. Motoring groups also pointed out it doesn’t factor in the economic benefits of road transport. But such arguments are too complex anyway for on-the-road dialogue. Previously, if the red light lasted for a while, a cyclist could inform a “road tax!” yeller that they were nearly eight decades out of date (even if, admittedly, this mainly prompted a furrow of the brow in response). That said, there is a compelling counter-argument that the rage of road tax is far more of a symptom than a cause. As I argued last month there is a strong case for the idea of British cyclists being treated by some fellow citizens and elements of the media as a societal outgroup, a narrative thus prone to exaggeration and generalisation and resistant to actual facts. But maybe if you see George on his bike again – don’t hold your breath; that ministerial fad seems long gone – you could let him know what an inadvertent disfavour he’s done to everyone else on two wheels. |