search.noResults

search.searching

saml.title
dataCollection.invalidEmail
note.createNoteMessage

search.noResults

search.searching

orderForm.title

orderForm.productCode
orderForm.description
orderForm.quantity
orderForm.itemPrice
orderForm.price
orderForm.totalPrice
orderForm.deliveryDetails.billingAddress
orderForm.deliveryDetails.deliveryAddress
orderForm.noItems
Sodium reduction


Sodium taxes: Worth their salt, or salt in the wound?


For years, governments and pundits have argued about the rights and wrongs of salt taxes. For supporters, slapping levies on salty snacks is a simple matter of public health. For opponents, punishing people for what they eat is the epitome of an overbearing nanny state. But, behind the politics, what is the actual efficacy of salt taxes? Isabel Ellis asks Franco Sassi, professor of international health policy and economics at Imperial College London.


I


t is not hard to see why contemporary governments might be wary of taxing salt. Historically, it has not done much for anyone’s popularity – quite the opposite. The story of the political system that legitimises most of them is tied up in rejecting the practice. The burden France’s hated gabelle put on the country’s poorest inhabitants helped cause the 1789 French revolution.


As Professor Franco Sassi, director of the Centre for Health Economics and Policy Innovation at Imperial College London, puts it: “Taxation is a very powerful incentive for getting people to change their behaviour.” He is talking specifically about modern consumption choices, but the impacts of historical salt levies prove the same point.


Less than a century ago, one turned the simple process of evaporating sea water into the first act in “a holy war” to “[shake] the foundations of ... empire”. Those are quotes from Mohandas Gandhi, who explicitly used Britain’s exploitative colonial regime of salt taxes in India as a motivator and structuring principle for the country’s independence movement. His 1930 Salt March launched a mass campaign of civil disobedience across India. Brutal reprisals by colonial forces led Vithalbhai Patel, former speaker of India’s Central Legislative Assembly, to remark that, “All hope of reconciling India with the British Empire is lost forever.” For Gandhi, who became Time magazine’s ‘Man of the Year’ for 1930, salt was an obvious protest focus. Abstract demands for rights were difficult to


Ingredients Insight / www.ingredients-insight.com


understand and potentially divisive, but sodium keeps people alive, no matter their creed. “Next to air and water,” he told some of his more sceptical comrades, “salt is perhaps the greatest necessity of life.” Specifically, the sodium in salt is involved in a range of vital functions, from regulating the body’s fluid balance to transmitting signals through the nervous system. Salt starvation, of the sort that plagued India through its time as a UK colony, causes brain cells to swell, with symptoms ranging from confusion and personality changes to seizures, coma and death.


The somewhat grisly truth is that humanity’s ubiquitous need for salt is also what has made it such an irresistible source of government revenues. After operating for more than 2,000 years, the Chinese government’s salt monopoly – the model for all other salt taxes – only ended in 2016. For much of China’s history, the proceeds from salt taxes were as essential to the functioning of the state as salt was to the health of its people – covering the cost of defence projects like the original Great Wall of China and, at times, totalling more than half of government income. But just as the last of the world’s governments seem to have got over their salt tax addictions, their salt-addicted citizens have given them a whole new reason to indulge. According to the World Health Organisation (WHO), most people now consume 9–12g of salt per day, or around twice the recommended maximum intake. In doing so, they risk increasing their blood pressure, which can lead


69


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92