Boris Johnson was never likely to introduce a sugar and salt tax

It must have come as a great disappointment. No sooner had Henry Dimbleby, founder of Leon, foodie, food tsar and author of the National Food Strategy, lifted his intelligent, straight-talking, constructive report, a perfectly baked souffle of proposals, out of the oven before the prime minister flattened the pudding, and all the delicious hopes contained therein. Boris Johnson, who once wrote a column supporting parents smuggling chips and burgers into a school, is sceptical about the core proposal: “I’m not, I must say, attracted to the idea of extra taxes on our working people, let me just signal that, but I will study his report with interest.”

Given that inflation is rising and there is still plenty of economic uncertainty around, despite a recent boost to wages, it might be rash for the government to raise food prices via a salt and sugar tax, no matter how cleverly designed it may be. Dimbleby’s tax would be aimed at the food industry, to get hidden sugar and salt out of virtually all processed items, such as pasta sauces and ready meals. Yet the extra costs could eventually be passed on, to some extent, to consumers. The press, in particular the Sun and Daily Mail, have already voiced their opposition to the idea of, as they see it, ramping up the price of the weekly family food bill. Food taxes are regressive, and given that the root cause of food poverty is poverty and low incomes, the result might simply be to make it even tougher for hard-pressed families to make ends meet. The point about sugary and salt-laden foodstuffs, as Dimbleby recognises, is that they are tasty and addictive, and it is difficult for parents to prevent their children craving them. Dimbleby’s counter-proposal of “prescribing” fresh fruit and vegetables has been met with some scepticism. The Food and Drink Association suggest it is unwise for this government, of all governments, to be seen telling people what to eat and when. Food taxes have always been an emotive issue in British politics – going back to the Corn Laws and the Irish potato famine, and beyond – and this is a prime minister who prides himself on his judgement of what ordinary folk will and will not accept. Making Frosties more expensive isn’t, from what we know of him, the kind of thing he’d be instinctively in favour of.

Yet there are plenty of taxes on food already. Governments have taxed confectionery, on and off, for decades, and sweets and chocolates are charged with VAT at the going rate. There was a long-running legal case about whether Jaffa Cakes counted as confectionery (liable for VAT) or as other foods (zero rated), and the orangey snack was counted as proper food, along with milkshakes and chocolate spreads. Thus, the relationship between VAT and sugar content, set in 1971 when VAT was introduced, is far from logical.

A step towards a more rational approach was taken a few years ago when the then chancellor, George Osborne, introduced a special sugar tax on soft drinks. This fell on the manufacturers rather than directly on shoppers, and encouraged the companies, with some success, to reformulate their products. According to the Dimbleby report, the soft drinks industry levy (SDIL) has already resulted in 36,000 fewer cases of obesity in children and teenagers in England, and 6,200 fewer decayed and missing teeth. However, because the SDIL only covers sugary drinks, it has not been enough to really change people’s diets and the health consequences that follow from them. For example, it has reduced average sugar consumption by 1.8g per person per day, but adults still consume 20g too much sugar every day.

Moreover, the system of tariffs of imports of foodstuffs that has existed for many decades, both before and after the EU Common External Tariff, has been an effective stealth tax on the 50 per cent or so of foodstuffs that Britain relies on to feed itself – everything from North American grains to make bread to lamb from New Zealand. So although that is not an argument for increasing food bills still further, it might be an idea to revise the structure of British import tariffs post-Brexit to better meet the health needs of the nation. On the other hand, as Dimbleby points out, the pressing need for free trade deals with the likes of the US and Australia may mean lower standards of food hygiene and animal welfare. According to the Brexit deal, food imports from the EU must be tariff and quota-free.

The prime minister is a recent recruit to the war on obesity, both personally and politically, partly due to his brush with Covid last year. He accepts many of the arguments and is all in favour of exercise (hence the £50m for new football pitches just announced), and healthier eating. Yet his political interests would probably not be well served by the kind of radical but rational tax regime the Dimbleby report envisages. Your bowl of Frosties is safe, for the time being.