Tax doesn't have to be taxing, (if you're rich enough)

 “The tax man’s taken all my dough,” lamented Ray Davis in the Kinks’ Sunny Afternoon. “Let me tell you how it will be, there’s one for you, nineteen for me”, sang George Harrison, impersonating the Inland Revenue in the Beatles’ Taxman.

The year was 1966 and the great and the good of British pop music were royally pissed off at the confiscatory nature of the Labour government’s tax code, which could see up to 83 percent of top-rate income claimed by HMRC.

By the mid 1970s, many of them had decided that self-imposed exile was preferable to handing over roughly four fifths of their income to the state. The Rolling Stones went to comparatively libertarian France and wrote Exile on Main Street.  Cat Stevens jetted of to Brazil and worked on his seventh album Foreigner.  Even tartan-clad sleaze Rod Stewart jumped ship, going to America and realising Atlantic Crossing. A trip we’ve got to thank for the nausea-inducing nonsense of his number one hit, Sailing. There’s never an iceberg when you need one.

55 years later and they’re still at it. “I'm mortified to have to pay 50 percent tax!” said Adele last May. “While I use the NHS, I can't use public transport any more. Trains are always late, most state schools are shit, and I've gotta give you, like, four million quid – are you having a laugh? When I got my tax bill in from 19, I was ready to go and buy a gun and randomly open fire.”

A product of Britain’s only free, (i.e. taxpayer funded), school of performing arts, Adele’s attitude would seem to suggest it’s not just her sound that’s a throwback to the sixties, but also her sense of entitlement. Still, at least those comparisons to Britain’s most distinguished musicians will finally be deserved when she takes the same course of action they did and emigrates? Well, perhaps not. We can only presume this same thought must have played heavy on George Osborne's mind last week, as he announced a cut in the top rate of income tax in the budget, from 50 - 45 percent.

From next April those earning over £150,000 a year will find themselves with an even greater net income. Good news for Adele, who’ll be rolling in it even deeper. That is if she’s not opted for “non-dom” status instead. Good news ostensibly for much of the Cabinet too. Though ministerial salary’s peak at the Prime Minister’s £142,500 a year, just below the £150,000 threshold, when earning’s from other sources are taken into account many of the Government front benches are thought to be direct beneficiaries of the cut. No one knows exactly how many or who, despite Ed Miliband’s “hands up if you're going to benefit from the tax cut", line of questioning in last week’s PMQs. But with this Government boasting the richest cabinet in history – 23 out of the 29 are millionaires – it’s likely to be the rule rather than the exception.

Reducing the amount of taxes paid by the rich has long since been a consistent policy of the Conservative party. Indeed the 50 percent rate, which only came into being in 2010, was a belated Labour reaction to Conservative tax reform in the 80s, where the highest tax rate came down from 60 to 40 percent. But just because the changes are ideologically expedient doesn’t mean they are politically sensible. It’s a bit much to expect the public to buy into the “we’re all in this together” mantra, when money can be found to lower the Cabinet’s taxes, but not pay for things like the Educational Maintenance Allowance.

Everyday we’re reminded the country is broke. It’s used as a justification for policies that nobody likes, or at least nobody admits to liking. Benefits have been cut, VAT has gone up, and people have to work longer to get their pensions, etc., etc. Any dissenting voices are hit with a caste-iron riposte: the budget deficit. So it’s all the more surprising to hear the announcement of a government policy that will reduce the Treasury’s takings. It makes you question whether George Osborne fully understands the implications of what he has done. All that hard work de-toxifying the Conservative brand and then a tax break for the country’s richest percentile. Pandering to the complaints of celebrity moaners like Adele, or Tracey, “I’m very seriously considering leaving Britain”, Emin seems a missed opportunity to jettison some deadwood. Worse it may even entice the likes of Piers Morgan to consider moving back. 

Will video kill it's viral star?

Justifying his hatred for The Sound of Music a comedian once reasoned that any film which made you root for the Nazis can't be a good thing.

I was reminded of this yesterday watching the viral sensation “Kony 2012” as my repulsion at the actions of a particularly despicable Ugandan warlord was offset slightly by my desire not to side with the cloying “anything is possible if we work together” sentiment of the American charity workers.

For the uninitiated, (are there any left?), Kony 2012 is a campaign video made by the charity Invisible Children to raise the profile of Joseph Kony with the intention of bringing him to justice for the devastation he has wrought on many children in northern Uganda. It is a story of child soldiers, sex slaves, murder and mutilation. But as bleak and depressing as this subject matter is, the video is anything but, made in the style of the most emotive and uplifting of Americana.

Like a Richard Curtis directed Coldplay video, or an endless loop of the Rocky montages, there is something both kitsch and euphoric about Jason Russell’s short film. It’s clearly heavily influenced by the social media activism which helped Barack Obama take office in 2008. Indeed although it doesn’t feature in the half hour, Obama’s “yes we can” slogan and "audacity of hope" world-view is an accurate shorthand for Invisible Children’s unwaveringly confident ethos. And much like the Obama campaign, Kony 2012 worked. Yes Kony may still be roaming around central African states with impunity, but no longer with anonymity. Invisible Children's goal to make the world aware of Kony and the actions of the Lord Resistance Army has been an unmitigated success.

Lack of effectiveness is not a criticism you can level at Kony 2012. Lack of taste however, as subjective a minefield as this is, is another matter. Some people like Bob Geldof and Bono and Jerry Springer's final thoughts, others, myself included don't. Some people will find the narrator's "we're going to stop them" tone reassuring and defiant in the face of adversity. Others will think it condescending, preachy and naively idealistic; which was how I personally found the scene where the narrator explained to his son Gavin that Joseph Kony is the world's “worst” "bad guy" to be.

And while I may know next to nothing about the situation in Uganda I'd imagine it's a little more complicated than Russell leads us to believe. A foreign policy that assumes everything will be okay if you put US troops on the ground wherever there is trouble has some pretty high profile contradictions of late. I did come to resent being addressing in the same manner as his primary school aged son. But then I'm an unashamed and unreconstructed cynic, I have a heart of stone and an aversion to anything that tries to connect with me on an emotional level. I'm sure nobody at Invisible Children is loosing any sleep because I feel they may have laid it on a bit thick in their 50 million plus viewed video.

I do however feel there is a more wide ranging and legitimate criticism that can be made of Kony 2012. It is a criticism not exclusive to Invisible Children's video, but also one that applies to requests to join Facebook groups to show support for various causes, or e-petition invitations to "save our hedgehogs", “ban goldfish bowls”, or my personal favourite “don't listen to idiots who sign e-petitions”.

All of the above, including Kony 2012, could, according to the OED no less, be categorised as instances of clicktivism: “the use of social media and other online methods to promote a cause.” In a 2010 New Yorker article "Small Change: Why the revolution will not be tweeted" Malcolm Gladwell summed up why he felt the plaudits for the revolutionary capacity of social media were undeserved. Facebook activism he wrote "succeeds not by motivating people to make a real sacrifice but by motivating them to do the things that people do when they are not motivated enough to make a real sacrifice." The idea that signing an e-petition, joining a Facebook group or sharing the Kony 2012 video is a poor substitute for genuine activism will hardly come as a shock to those who participate in online campaigns. But Gladwell's argument that social media is "effective at increasing participation—by lessening the level of motivation that participation requires" seems to lead to a more extreme conclusion. Could clicktivism actually be counterproductive?

No doubt Invisible Children and their millions of followers want to put an end to the violence in Uganda. Who wouldn't? But following the charity's particular call to arms to "sign a pledge and show your support" and "above all share the movie online" is a course of action that may assuage millions of consciences, placating the need for further action and achieving...what? Popularising the video ever further, getting more people to sign the pledge. Will this create a critical mass driving intervention up the political agenda? Or is it simply adding to a open but self-referential feedback loop? If the course of action Invisible Children advocated required greater motivation - lobbying political representatives for example or donating to charities on the ground in Uganda - no doubt less people would participate, but perhaps the overall real-world impact would be greater.

Kony 2012 is a marketing tool and a slick one at that. It's succeeded in putting a long ignored issue at the forefront of people's minds. And it's flouted every convention of successful viral videos in doing so - i.e. it's longer than 1 minute and it doesn't feature a single kitten trying to drink from the tap. It's makers have also done more for their admirable cause than I ever will. But just because you support the cause doesn't mean you have to agree with the course they have taken to popularise it.