At the commencement of this session of Parliament, Prime Minister Lee expressed his hope that, with a more sizable Opposition, there would be more sophisticated policy debate, with alternatives instead of just objections being offered. (1/n)
My #workersparty colleagues and I took that charge seriously. So when the GST hike was proposed, we took pen to paper, and worked out a range of revenue options that we felt could stave off the need to raise GST. (2/n)
By our estimates, the hole that GST would fill is around $3.6 billion. So we went ahead and worked out four different ways—we call these levers—that we could pull in more revenue, each built around a different theme. (3/n)
The first option increases effective taxes on MNCs, while leaving SMEs untouched. Our increase simply assumes full compliance with the OECD BEPS treaty (which we’ve signed). To enhance realism, we even allow for bleed in the income tax take for corporations and individuals. (4/n)
This corporate tax lever will yield $3.5 bn. So, while we’ll lose when some firms relocate and others pay revenue at their points of sale, we also save on needing to undercut others with corporate tax goodies. Others have corroborated how our tax take under BEPS could rise. (5/n)
The second option extracts some revenue from land sales, higher property taxes, and wealth taxes. Basically, those with more assets contribute more, which is also a way to help address soaring inequality, something many Singaporeans care about. (6/n)
This asset tax lever will yield $3.7 bn. Does this “punish” success? That’s one way to look at it. Another way to see it is that those who have been more blessed, contribute back more. In most cases, the well-to-do won’t be made worse off; their wealth just grows slower. (7/n)
A third option is to change the share of our net investment returns contribution (NIRC) that we plough back into reserves—currently an arbitrary 50 percent—to 60 percent. This reserves lever will raise $4.3 bn. (8/n)
It is important to stress that this doesn’t run down our reserves. It just builds it up more slowly. As much as we want to invest for the future, we shouldn’t neglect the needs of the present. It doesn’t make sense to live in a giant house but eat kaya roti all day. (9/n)
A fourth option is to raise taxes on stuff that generates negative spillovers for others. We consider raising “sin” taxes—on alcohol, gambling, the like—and on carbon (to $80/ton, the upper bound of the government’s accepted range). (10/n)
This allows us to cap a corporate tax increase to only 8 percent. Together, this “externalities” lever will raise $3.7 bn. Admittedly, sin taxes tend to be regressive (the poor pay more as a share of incomes). But such taxes reduce the harm from gambling/alcohol addiction. (11/n)
In his response, Finance Minister Lawrence Wong rejected all these proposals, dismissing them as unrealistic or inconsistent with their philosophical beliefs. We obviously disagree. (12/n)
He said that the corporate tax revenue estimate was unrealistic, citing a straw man of a hypothetical $70 bn figure, used as a hyperbolic example. But our actual corporate tax lever yields much more credible numbers, consistent with our international obligations. (13/n)
He also rehashed the selfsame defense that land sales above 10 years should be treated as reserves, without addressing how our proposal extracts out the first 9 years of a lease into current revenue, which is already what the government does for leases below 10 years. (14/n)
He failed to explain how our reserves lever, which only reduces the NIRC by 10 percent (and doesn’t draw down reserves at all), “steals “from future generations, any more than the PAP’s own proposal to change the NIR formula in 2008 and 2015. (15/n)
And he repeated a tired trope that wealth taxes cannot be credibly enforced, ignoring how we make very modest recovery assumptions that yield only $1.2 bn from this source, far lower than figures put out by other independent analysts. (16/n)
Importantly, Minister Wong kept repeating that there was no other way to make ends meet, other than by hiking GST. As we showed, however, there are at least 4 levers we can pull, and pulling all four would cover the hole 4 times over. (17/n)
So rebut one component or even an entire lever, on the basis of principle or flawed assumptions. But the #workersparty is confident that the claim that there’s no other way is due to a lack of imagination or political courage, rather than genuine fiscal realities. (n/n)
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In January’s Parliamentary sitting, members debated the transition toward a green economy. It will also feature in the budget and Committee of Supply debates, currently ongoing. The issue is urgent and important, not least because steps need to taken today to get us there. (1/n)
I’m not usually a Debbie Downer, but my contributions to the debate were mostly cautionary. I spoke about the importance of measuring progress, and warned about how green financing wasn’t some magic bullet, as well as risks from greenwashing. (2/n)
We’ve heard about how the financial sector can make a massive difference to getting us to the promised land of limiting climate change. Of course, finance is important (I teach, research, and practice it, after all!) but not quite sufficient. (3/n)
Every year, I teach a course in international economics. In the first lecture of the course, I teach what is known as the Ricardian model: named after the 18th century economist, David Ricardo. (1/n)
The key insight then—as it is today—is that free trade between two countries allows each one to specialize according to what they can do relatively well. This is known as comparative advantage. (2/n)
In doing so, these economies can enjoy levels of consumption greater than if they chose instead to go it alone, and attempt to produce everything at home. This elegant, compelling argument underlies why economists generally favor free trade. (3/n)
The term “debate” often evokes images of raucous speeches and lively verbal jousting. Alas, parliamentary debates (in this country at least) are often heavily structured, guarded affairs. (1/n)
For instance, to make a point, one has to be recognized by the Speaker. This preserves order and decorum, but it comes at the cost of stifling dynamic riposte, especially for a heated topic. (2/n)
Time constraints exacerbate the problem (Parliament has more issues to discuss than time allows). This was the case yesterday, when a few #workersparty MPs (myself included) were unable to raise supplementary questions before the end of question time. (3/n)
For many Singaporean parents, one of the more stressful events is placing their child in a preferred primary school. What that preference is differs. For some, it is the alma mater; for others, a school offering certain academic options; for yet others, one near their home. (1/n)
It strikes me that securing a place close to home is a reasonably modest expectation. This is not guaranteed if the school is especially popular, of course (and parents understand that); but getting into a walking-distance neighborhood school seems eminently fair. (2/n)
Alas, in certain neighborhoods—especially #Anchorvale in #SengkangGRC, where I serve—the preponderance of families with young children has meant that many residents have been unable to place their kids in schools close to home. (3/n)
Corporate governance is one of the less-sexy topics within corporate finance and asset management. After all, everyone wants to know about firms’ profitability metrics, new product lines, and growth plans. (1/n)
In contrast, issues such shareholder rights, board independence, and compensation schemes evoke yawns among all but the most nerdy analysts and researchers. What does “governance” really mean for a private corporation anyway? (2/n)
These matters appear to be best left to insiders, who may know best for how to run the business. But such matters are actually enormously important. There is a sizable literature that links strong corporate governance metrics to outsized returns. (3/n)
Last week, @yalenus announced that it would be taking in its final class of students. The college—one of the first liberal arts schools in Asia—is set to close its doors in four years. It marks the end of a bold experiment. (1/n)
I suspect most Singaporeans would be apathetic to this development. While Yale has an easily recognizable brand name, it is, after all, an elite institution, which by definition caters to a very limited few. (2/n)
The idea of the liberal arts is also alien to most Asians. Asian universities tend to focus most on science, technology, and other professional fields that are perceived to contribute most to economic output (and yield jobs for graduates). (3/n)