Anti-Tax Is Anti-Citizen

Since government, or social organization, is among the wants of man, as truly as food or clothing, we must recognize it in the science of political economy, and provide for it. Government implies functionaries and expenditures. How shall these be maintained? Evidently by the contributions of all, for all are interested in its existence. It may, therefore, rightfully claim a share of all that labor and capital have created.

— “The Science Of Wealth” (1866), by Amasa Walker

When Mayor Rob Ford succeeded in having the Vehicle Registration Tax repealed last month, he crowed, “It’s a great day for the taxpayers of Toronto. We just put $64-million back in their pockets. They can do what they want. They can go out and spend it, create jobs and stimulate the economy or they can save it.”

I don’t know if the mayor really believes all that neoconservative nonsense about tax cuts stimulating the economy and, in turn, increasing government revenues. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t since it’s an empty trope that’s been all the rage for the past 30 years or so despite having little real world evidence to back it up. And I also wonder if the mayor understands that even if tax cuts were shown to increase government revenue, municipal governments in this province would not see their coffers filled much as the kind of tax revenues they have access to aren’t the sales or consumption taxes that, theoretically, increase in a stimulated economy. It’s a subtle distinction Mayor Ford hasn’t shown much of a propensity in understanding.

In cutting the VRT, city council has essentially amputated one of the hard earned revenue tools it was granted through the City of Toronto Act. As it will if the mayor eventually carries through on his pledge to do away with the land transfer tax. His proposal to freeze property taxes on this year’s budget (which is actually a cut – see Spacing’s Dylan Reid explain in his post) slices mightily into the city’s biggest generator of revenue.

Despite what politicos on the right and their media promoters insist on telling us, taxation is not a dirty word. It’s what buys us civilization and all that. Striking the right balance on which taxes to implement and at what levels in order to not stifle healthy economic growth is the key to successful governance. Any idiot can simply appeal to our basest instincts of greed and self-interest in a call for slashing taxes. It’s proven to be a winning strategy for decades now.

The loss of the VRT revenue and the mayor’s proposed property tax freeze will cost the city in excess of $100 million. How will that money be offset? Service cuts that Mayor Ford guaranteed on the campaign trail wouldn’t happen and some $23 million in user fee increases. What’s that about Torontonians tired of being nickel-and-dimed to death? His Respect For Taxpayers seems to be very, very selective.

Anti-tax politicians are never looking out for ‘the little guy’ despite their claims to the contrary. The last thing they want to do is to give a voice to the voiceless. Their primary intent, first and foremost, is to diminish the power of government to properly look after all of its citizens regardless of where they are on the economic spectrum. If they can get in a little reverse Robin Hood wealth redistribution while they’re at it, so much the better. Anti-tax politicians are not grassroots heroes.

They are abrogators of responsibility. They don’t govern. They vandalize and plunder. They never leave anything better than they found it. They only make things worse. And time and time again, we have to chase them from office and start to clean everything up.

You’d think we’dve learned all that by now.

get it through our thick skullsly submitted by Cityslikr

Reeve Rob Ford

I take no solace in the wilderness. Small towns strike me as neither quaint nor cozy. If they were so great, why aren’t more people living in them? There’s life enough for me in the city where I live and those that I like to visit.

So it was as much a surprise to me as it would be to anyone that I found myself on the shores of Lake Erie this Thankgiving weekend with a friend I had not seen in sometime. How had such a turn of events come about you ask? Well, with barely a warning, ___________ showed up atop his brand new Honda Gold Wing cruising bike on Friday a.m., wanting to take me for a ride. Initially I demurred, having not been on a motorcycle since an ill-fated trip through Morocco sometime during my undergraduate years. But the bike was big and shiny, and I had no particular plans this long weekend. The weather was supposed to be glorious. If not now, when?

___________ and I had become acquainted when he appeared at my high school for a couple years there in the middle. He had a brilliant mind, effortlessly understanding the more complicated regions of math, physics and chemistry. Probably not coincidentally, he also had an affinity for mind altering substances, the more exotic the better. It was clear even back then that there was going to be a battle waged between academia and narcotics for ___________’s heart and mind.

Over the course of the next ___ years, he would flit in and out of my life. At times I was never sure how exactly he discovered my whereabouts, only adding to his mystique. That, and the fact he was always very circumspect about what he was doing for a living. Weapons development (including biological). Alternative energy research. The last time we chatted, he’d talked fondly of MBSs and CDOs which, when I questioned him about over pie on a break from the ride, he smiled either grimly or smugly, I couldn’t judge, and said, “High finance is not for the meek. And I’ve dealt with anthrax, buddy.”

How this all relates to you and this site comes from the Friday night of my trip. We wound up in the little lakeside hamlet of Port Stanley at a friend of __________’s. Let’s call him __________2; an organic farmer who, when I asked what he farmed, smiled a similar smile I’d seen on the face of __________ when I asked about his role in the financial crisis. Part of me wondered if this whole trip had been planned to make me the fall guy for whatever it was these two were involved with. But that was probably just the paranoid stage I was experiencing at the time.

We’d finished a delicious dinner cooked by __________2’s live-in cook, an elderly gentleman hailing from Japan, and were sitting around, watching the news. __________2’s satellite system piped in a news feed from Toronto with an item featuring Rob Ford’s press conference earlier in the day where he further attempted to outline his economic plan if elected mayor. I had been enjoying an election-free few hours and was hoping that the story would pass unremarked upon as I just didn’t feel up to getting into all the gory details. Alas, it was not to be.

“Toronto’s going to elect that dude to be its mayor?” _________ asked. First, I was caught off guard realizing that there were people out there who weren’t aware of our situation, who hadn’t been following along to every twist and turn in our municipal campaign. Rob Ford had even made it onto the front cover of last week’s Macleans magazine. This must be national news.

Recovering from my deflated sense of place, I then had to admit that, yes, there was a good possibility Rob Ford might be elected mayor. It wasn’t a done deal but there would be no surprise if it came to pass. Silence ensued and it looked as if that was going to be the extent of the conversation. It was a couple stories afterwards before __________2 piped in on the topic.

“That Ford guy doesn’t look like a big city mayor. He looks like a county reeve.”

It turns out that __________2 hails originally from Dutton, Ontario, a farming community some 35 kilometres inland from Port Stanley. He explains that a reeve is similar to the mayor’s position but for sparsely populated counties. “Interesting fact,” he sidetracks. The word ‘sheriff’ is derived from the term ‘shire reeve’.”

“From my understanding,” he went on to explain, “reeve positions were mostly taken by the dumbest sons from the more prominent local families. The ones most likely to hurt themselves or somebody else on the farm. They’d send them off basically just to occupy their time and be front men for the family’s interests.”

Both _________ and _________2’s cook laughed. I wasn’t sure if I was being fucked with. Some down home, rural humour I had no way of plugging into.

“Yeah, these Elgin county folks,” _________2 continued, “they used to spit out farmboys in droves, each looking just like the previous one but a little bit dumber.”

“Like Multiplicity,” ________2’s cook piped in. A reference neither ________ nor ________2 seemed to get as they turned back to watching the news without comment. ________2 started up his story again after a bit.

“By the fourth or fifth son, man, they were flat out stupid and if they stayed around the farm, inevitably something or someone got chewed up and spit out by the combine harvester that shouldn’tve. Or they cut off somebody’s ankles with a scythe. Usually their own. Fell through the barn roof and onto a prized dairy cow, breaking its back and having to put it down.”

At which point the three of us turned to stare at him, convinced we were all now being screwed with. Evidently not.

“Oh yeah. Elgin County. The Twin Peaks of southern Ontario. The tales of misadventure I could tell you…”

We then turned back to watch the news on TV and the start of a very odd Thanksgiving weekend.

And there you have it. Rob Ford, For Reeve of Toronto.

rurally submitted by Urban Sophisticat