The UK needs to rethink its local taxes. It’s time for land value tax

We’re saying nothing. Image: Getty.

Labour London Assembly member Tom Copley on the future of property tax.

Last week Chris Williamson left the Labour frontbench after he suggested changes to council tax that are not Labour Party policy. Jeremy Corbyn was right to ask for Williamson’s resignation: shadow ministers floating policy ideas that are not part of their briefs, particularly in relation to taxation, is a recipe for chaos. However, the question of how we should reform local taxation is something the Labour Party needs to consider.

Council tax is fundamentally flawed. For a start, taxing people based on the notional value of their property in 1991 is absurd. Indeed, even calling it ‘their’ property isn’t quite accurate, given the tax is paid by the occupier not the owner – so poor tenants living in expensive properties pay more than richer homeowners whose property is worth less.

Council tax bands have never been revalued, so billionaires living in multi-million pound houses pay the same amount as middle-income homeowners. The most expensive property sold in the UK in October last year went for just shy of £16m in Westminster. The cheapest was £18,500 in County Durham. The owner of the Westminster property would pay just £250 a year more in council tax than the owner of the County Durham property. Council tax bands can’t be varied individually either, so if a council wants to raise taxes on the most expensive properties it must raise taxes for the cheaper ones as well.

There is nothing progressive about council tax. It’s time we scrapped it, along with stamp duty and business rates, and replaced it with a fairer system.


In 2015 I led an investigation for the London Assembly into Land Value Tax (LVT). This led to the Tax Trial report which called for the mayor of London to be given the power to trial LVT in part of the capital. LVT is a tax on the annual rental value of land in its “optimum use” (as defined by a public authority).

Unlike council tax and business rates it is not a tax on the property that sits on the land. It is paid by the land owner, not the tenant, and applies regardless of whether the land is developed or not. It is not only a source of taxation but a disincentive for landowners to “land bank” sitting on undeveloped land and waiting for its value to rise.

Since 1995, the value of land in the UK has risen by 544 per cent whereas the value of the buildings sitting it has only risen by 219 per cent. And the value of land is largely determined by its location, not by any effort on the part of the landowner – a point made by Winston Churchill, a proponent of LVT, in 1909:

“Roads are made, streets are made, services are improved, electric light turns night into day, water is brought from reservoirs a hundred miles off in the mountains – and all the while the landlord sits still. Every one of those improvements is effected by the labour and cost of other people and the taxpayers. To not one of those improvements does the land monopolist, as a land monopolist, contribute, and yet by every one of them the value of his land is enhanced. He renders no service to the community, he contributes nothing to the general welfare, he contributes nothing to the process from which his own enrichment is derived.”

When the state invests large sums of public money in a project like Crossrail, land values rise along the route. LVT would allow some of that rise in value to be recouped by the taxpayer.  

Some of the same problems with council tax would apply to LVT: for example, what about homeowners who are asset rich but income poor? I’m convinced that a more progressive system could be constructed to allow people to choose whether to defer their payments until they sell their home, and most people wouldn’t be paying any more than they currently pay annually in council tax in any case. 

What LVT would do is generate a lot more revenue from very wealthy landowners such as the Duke of Westminster who can afford to contribute more. Surely that’s a proposal that everyone in the Labour Party can get behind?

Tom Copley is a Labour member of the London Assembly.

 
 
 
 

The media scumbag’s route of choice: A personal history of London’s C2 bus

A C2 bus at Parliament Hill. Image: David Howard/Wikimedia Commons.

London’s C2 bus route, which runs from Parliament Hill, by Hampstead Heath, down to Conduit Street, just off Regent Street, is one of the bus routes recently earmarked for the chop. It has oft been noted that, of all the routes recently pencilled in for cancellation after a consultation late last year, it was the one most likely to survive, for the simple reason that it links liberal suburban north London with BBC Broadcasting House and Soho; it’s thus the route most likely to be used by people who can convince someone to let them report on its imminent demise.

So it would come as no surprise that former Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger took to the Camden New Journal when the consultation began, arguing that it would be a disservice to the local community to discontinue a route where you can always get a seat – seemingly missing the point that the fact you can always get a seat is not a great sign of the route’s usefulness.

It wasn’t always that way. When I left university in 2000, and moved from accommodation near college to up to a rented shared house in N6, the C2 was my bus. I commuted to Soho for sixteen years: for more than a decade from flats around the Swain’s Lane roundabout, and for five years from Kentish Town. While my place of work bounced around from Golden Square to Lexington Street to Great Marlborough, it was always the most convenient way to get to, and from, work; especially given the difference between bus and tube prices.

So when it comes to the C2 I’ve seen it, I’ve done it, and bought the bus pass. And by bus pass, I mean those little paper ones that still existed at the beginning of this century. Not just before contactless, but before Oyster cards.

More importantly, it was before London buses operated a single zone. There was an outer zone, and an inner zone, with different prices. To travel from one zone to another cost £1.30, meaning an all cash commute was £2.60, whereas a paper bus pass was £2.00. That made it worth your while to divert to an early opening newsagents on your way to the bus stop (GK, in my case), even if you only got two buses a day.

It’s a measure of how greatly London’s buses have improved over the last twenty years, since first brought under control of the mayoralty, that pretty much everything about this anecdotage, including the prices, seems faintly mad. But there’s more: back when I started getting that bus down to Stop N, literally at the very end of the route, the C2 used single decker buses with a single door. It’s an appalling design for use in a crowded city, which meant most of any journey was, for most passengers, spent fighting your way up and down the middle of the bus to find a seat, and then back again to get off; or – and this was more likely – fighting your way up the bus to get into standing space the driver insisted was there, before fighting your way, etc.

Such buses – and in my former life in the English Midlands I went to school on one of these buses every day – are perfectly functional where bus stops are infrequent and buses rarely standing room only. But running through Camden Town at rush hour, they’re wholly unfit for purpose.

A Citypacer. Image: RXUYDC/Wikimedia Commons.

It could have been worse. I didn’t know this at the time, but a few years before the C2 route had been run using Optare City Pacers. Those are, let us be frank, not really buses at all, but minibuses. That’s something the reveals the C2’s origins, as a hopper route to the west end largely intended for the daytime use of Gospel Oak’s pensioners in the years immediately before bus privatisation. (The C11 has a similar origin, taking the same constituency from Archway to England’s Lane.)

Once responsibility for London Buses was moved to the newly established mayoralty, things improved dramatically. Under Ken Livingstone it went double decker in 2005, and 24 hour in 2007. Under Boris Johnson it was extended from its once, and future, terminus of Conduit Street to Victoria Station, swallowing up the cancelled sections of the 8 bus; this extension was quietly disposed of a few years later, once it was clear no one would notice. (I did.)


In those years I must have taken a C2 the best part of ten thousand times; but for all the years when I wouldn’t have been able to live without the C2, times have reduced its utility, and not just for me. I’m now a 214 sort of guy: these days the top chunk of the C2 route is duplicated exactly by that other bus, which starts up in Highgate Village and, once it gets to Swain’s Lane, follows the same path until the fork of Kentish Town Road and Royal College Street, opposite the long defunct South Kentish Town tube station.

From a few hundred metres below that point, at Camden Gardens, stop C, the 88 starts. That duplicates the rest of the C2’s route, with the exception of the run down Albany Street and onto Great Portland, for much of which the C2 is the only bus.

So the C2, old friend that it is, is pretty redundant in the age of the hopper fare, which allows you to change buses without paying a second fare. That’s even more true now the C2’s otherwise un-serviced stops are being giving over to a re-routed 88, which will pick up the C2’s most northern leg, by not finishing at Camden Gardens anymore and instead going all the way to Parliament Hill Fields. Which will be nice for it.

All this, however, ignores the best reason for getting rid of the C2 (or rather for merging it with the 88, which is what’s actually happening): that first character. The letter. Who wants a bus route with a letter in front of it when even half the night buses don’t have the N anymore? It’s relic of the route’s aforementioned origins as a ‘Camdenhopper’.

That C is twenty five years past its own utility. It’s just untidy. City Metric hates that sort of thing. Get rid.