The government has announced a VAT cut on theme parks and children’s meals, a policy straight out of a fairytale for families. But is this a genuine economic recovery or a desperate sugar rush for a beleaguered economy? Let us not confuse a discount on a ghost train with structural reform. This is the sort of thing that happens when a civilisation begins to prefer the circus to the bread: the state, bankrupt of grand ideas, resorts to subsidising the thrill of a rollercoaster.
Of course, the immediate effect will be a welcome boost for hard-pressed parents. A 5 per cent reduction on the price of a child’s pizza and a pass to a theme park may well be the difference between a wet Tuesday in the living room and a day of screaming delight. But as an economic strategy, it smacks of the late Roman Empire’s bread and circuses. Except here the bread is a children’s meal and the circuses are, literally, circuses.
The Treasury will argue that this is a targeted stimulus, designed to revive the leisure and hospitality sectors. They are not wrong: families will spend, hotels will fill, and the friendly hot-dog seller will see a modest uptick. But let us be clear: this is not a recovery. It is a patch. A sticking plaster over a wound that needs surgery. Where is the investment in infrastructure? Where is the long-term plan for productivity? Instead we have a tax cut on theme parks, as if the nation’s economic fortunes rest on the number of people queuing for a log flume.
The deeper issue is the infantilisation of public policy. We are no longer expected to work for our prosperity; we are given discounts to play. Every parent knows that a day at Alton Towers is a temporary reprieve from reality. The government, in its wisdom, has made that reprieve cheaper. Meanwhile, the crucial debates about the future of work, the decline of manufacturing, and the hollowing out of the middle-class remain unaddressed. We are fiddling while the retail park burns.
There is also the question of who benefits. The VAT cut will be welcomed by the already-struggling family, but it is a shallow comfort. The real beneficiaries are the large theme park operators, many of which are multinational corporations that pay little tax anyway. The state is effectively handing them a subsidy to attract customers. If the goal is to support families, why not increase child benefit or invest in free activities? Because that would look like socialism. A VAT cut on a rollercoaster looks like a jolly good idea.
Let us also consider the historical precedent. The Victorian era, which I often invoke, understood the balance between pleasure and discipline. The Great Exhibition of 1851 was a celebration of industry and ingenuity, not a cut-price ticket to a merry-go-round. That exhibition spurred innovation and trade. Today, we seek to spur a trip to a water park. Something has been lost: a sense that the economy is about more than consumption. It is about creation. And we are not creating much beyond a sugar high.
In the end, this policy will probably work in the short term. Families will spend, and GDP figures will bump up slightly. But the underlying malaise remains. We have become a nation of thrill-seekers, not builders. The government’s job should be to lay foundations, not to sell discounted tickets to the wildest ride. Until we address the structural deficits in our economy, all the VAT cuts in the world will only postpone the day of reckoning.
So enjoy your discounted churro and your day on the teacups. But do not mistake a temporary jollity for a revival. The party will end. And when it does, we may find that the only thing more terrifying than a loop-the-loop is the silence of an economy that has forgotten how to grow.
