IMAGINE the Scottish Government introduced a replacement for council tax that was so unpopular it led to riots across the country and a humiliated John Swinney resigning in tears.
In abridged form, that’s roughly what happened when Margaret Thatcher’s government introduced the hated poll tax.
In the 1980s, the Conservatives wanted to get rid of the rates system which funded local government.
Rates were revaluated fairly regularly, something which proved controversial. A Hansard transcript of a question on domestic rates in 1978 has the then Scottish secretary Bruce Millan justify an average payment of £119 as being £9 lower than the previous year.
But the phrasing of Glasgow Cathcart’s Tory MP Teddy Taylor’s question forced him to subsequently admit that five years before they were £65 and 10 years before just £41.
Taylor blasted: “Does [Millan] agree that rates have now become an intolerable burden for many families, particularly in areas hard hit by revaluation?”
Clearly, local government taxation has always been a touchy subject.
Eventually, the Tories came up with something they called the Community Charge. No one else called it that, preferring to call it the poll tax, conjuring up images of the 14th century Peasant’s Revolt.
It imposed a fixed sum on each adult resident of a property, with a reduction for the poor, the unemployed and students.
In a preposterous quip that helped to underscore the unfairness of the poll tax, the minister responsible for its introduction Nicholas Ridley tried to defend it by asking: “Why should a Duke pay more than a dustman?”
That a Duke might have more money to spare than a dustman apparently did not cross Ridley’s mind. Happily for him he was later elevated to the Lords for his efforts.
Less happy was just about everyone else. Especially Scotland. It was introduced north of the Border a year before it was brought in down south.
It’s not clear why the poll tax was introduced in Scotland in 1989, though Thatcher’s critics often argue it was pure vindictiveness against a country which had at the previous election deprived her of 11 Scottish seats.
What is more clear is that the poll tax was never going to work. People simply refused to pay.
A young Tommy Sheridan would become the face of the non-payment campaign, which also saw resistance to warrant sales.
People who refused to pay the tax were liable to receive a visit from sheriff officers, by all accounts an unpleasant experience.
Refuseniks had their homes raided their stuff evaluated then taken away to be flogged at auction to recover their debts.
Sheridan, in his later career as a Scottish Socialist Party MSP, would help abolish warrant sales with an Act passed in 2001.
So bad was the controversy surrounding the results of the Scottish poll tax experiment, Thatcher (above) faced in the December of 1989 a leadership challenge which would ultimately prove fatal.
But, undeterred by her Pyrrhic victory against a no-name stalking horse candidate, or by the Scottish resistance or by a riot in Trafalgar Square, the poll tax was introduced the following year south of the Border.
Activists again organised a non-payment campaign. So vast were the numbers of people refusing to pay, councils were unable to effectively keep up with the amount of people who refused to pay.
Some English police forces are even said to have refused to arrest defaulters because there were just too many.
Eventually, the pressure got too much — aided by a classic Tory row over Europe — and the men in grey suits came for Thatcher. She resigned in November 1990 and was replaced by John Major.
Apparently seeking a quieter life than his predecessor enjoyed, Major decided to scrap the poll tax.
He replaced it on March 31, 1991 with something similar to the rates system the poll tax had intended to replace. The rates are based on the value of a home the following day, April Fool’s Day. Those estimates still provide the basis for the tax 33 years on.
