It's time to dig deep - but not deeper than the taxman expects

I have a request to make of all Australian taxpayers: please give more to charity because you’re making me look bad. Like a cheat, in fact. I’ll explain shortly, but first, a self-interested public service announcement. Hurry, hurry, hurry. You have only the rest of this week to make a tax-deductible donation if you want to get some of it back in your next tax refund.

June 30, the biggest day of the year for the nation’s accountants, is fast approaching. It’s also the most important time of year for the nation’s charities. If you’ve ever made a donation to any of them, I bet they sent you a letter in the last few weeks reminding you how good it would be if you did so again ASAP.

But, as we were reminded by a strategically placed story last week, this is likely to be a bad year for charities. Why? Because in a cost-of-living crisis many of us decide that charity begins at home.

According to polling by academics at the University of Queensland, 78 per cent of people have reduced their donations because of the crisis facing their own budgets.

This is particularly bad timing for those charities that help people having trouble affording food and other necessities, such as the Salvos. The demand for their services has jumped for the same reason people are finding it harder to give. (Yes, the Salvos have “reached out” to me lately. And as I did myself in my uniformed youth, they waved a collection box under my nose.)

Perhaps it’s the accountant in me that makes me particularly attracted to donations that are tax-deductible. As everyone soon learns, you can’t make a profit out of tax deductibility. You can only reduce a cost.

But I like it because it lets me send a bit of taxpayers’ money in a direction chosen by me, not the politicians. The pollies mightn’t give a stuff about the wellbeing of refugees and asylum seekers, but I do. And to some small extent, I can make them kick the tin.

Also last week, purely by chance, I’m sure, we were reminded that, though Australians like to think of themselves as generous, we’re actually tighter than people in other English-speaking countries. Even the Kiwis are more giving than we are.

Which brings me to my beef about donations. Now, I’ve long been a defender of the Tax Office. It does an important job in making sure we pay as much tax as we should. One reason I got out of accounting was because I decided the only interesting part of it was giving tax advice, but I didn’t want to spend my life helping the well-off avoid doing their duty to the community.

But a few weeks ago, I got a letter from the Tax Office, via the myGov website, naturally, that was the strangest I’ve ever had from them. And it really pee’d me off.

The standard form letter said they’d happened to notice that my claim for donations was a lot higher than other people’s, and they were just wondering whether I might possibly have made some mistake.

They hoped I knew you could only claim for donations to outfits that had been awarded tax deductibility. And they hoped I knew I shouldn’t be claiming for any donation for which I couldn’t produce a receipt.

If, on reflection, I realised I had made some terrible “mistake”, I was free to amend my return and thereby, they hinted without saying, avoid possible further investigation and penalty.

But, failing that, there was no suggestion I do anything about their veiled accusation, except, presumably, sit there shivering, waiting for the taxman’s knock on the door.

It may be true, as coppers always say, that if you’ve done nothing wrong you’ve got nothing to fear, but that doesn’t stop you resenting an unwarranted insinuation that you’re dishonest.

What gets me is that, knowing my claim was large, I would have happily included a detailed list with my return, but the taxman made no provision for me to do so. Nor, when he sent his accusatory letter, did he invite me to explain or substantiate my claim.

And I get the feeling that the taxman’s algorithm just found an outsized number and dispatched a letter without further consideration. Did he know that I always make a big claim? Did he allow for the likelihood that people on high incomes can afford to be more generous? Did he note that I’d been a tax agent for many years and so didn’t need reminding of the rules?

Well, I know the taxman doesn’t want to be burdened by any extra information from me, but I’ll give him a heads-up anyway. My claim for this financial year won’t be as big as last year’s, but the one for next year will be a whopper. I’m thinking of setting up a charity of my own. All above board, naturally.

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Time to dig deep for those who haven't had a good crisis

Do the initials EOFY mean anything to you? It’s a relatively new abbreviation, but it’s become so widely used by marketers anxious to squeeze in one last bargain sale before their books close that you probably don’t need me to tell you it stands for end of the financial year.

It’s also become a standby for our tax-deductible charities which, at this time of year, are busy mailing their supporters to subtly remind them that a generous donation or two in the next few weeks would do much to fatten the refund cheque that’s the reward awaiting us when we’ve submitted our tax return.

As an accountant who’s highly conscious of what’s tax deductible and what’s not – and who, in earlier times, did his share of knocking on doors, selling buttons on button day and rattling a collection box at the entrance to the show, but drew the line at helping his father sell the War Cry newspaper in pubs – EOFY looms large on my to-do list in the next few weeks.

It’s years since I’ve helped with the Salvos’ Red Shield appeal but, in any case, no house-to-house collection day was possible this year, for obvious reasons. Which is a pity since it means the Salvos will have a lot less ability to help those it always finds needing assistance, let alone the surge in families caught short by a recession likely to be still blighting many people’s lives long after Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg have triumphantly declared recovery and withdrawn their extra financial support.

Thinking about it, tax deductibility is a way that we mere mortals can oblige our political masters to divert more taxpayer support to those causes to which we attach more importance than the pollies seem to. And, if that’s your motivation, the knowledge that much of what you give will be coming back to you should prompt you to give a lot more than you first thought of.

Of course, the Salvos are far from the only charity caught short by their reliance on volunteer funding drives. A report published last week by Social Ventures Australia and the Centre for Social Impact at the University of NSW is a reminder that, apart from social distancing’s disruption of volunteering and fundraising events, donations always suffer when economic times are tough.

There are more than 57,000 charities registered with the Australian Charities and Not-for-profits Commission. Before the recession they employed about 1.3 million people – one worker in 10 – and had 3.7 million volunteers.

Charities provide a huge range of services to the community: education, health care, sport and recreation, legal services, arts and culture, animal protection, environmental protection and much else.

Governments rely on charities to deliver services on their behalf: aged care, disability services, employment services (replacing the old Commonwealth Employment Service) and childcare and early learning.

Governments also rely on charities to fill in the gaps in their systems. When the dole was only $40 a day – to which Morrison says he’ll soon revert – they could be sure no one would starve because the Salvos, Vinnies and Mission Australia would be there to give them a feed or a food parcel.

All those homeless people on the street? The Salvos, Vinnies and Mission Australia will do what they can. Maybe those people enjoy sleeping in parks and under railway bridges – especially in summer.

People who get themselves deep in debt with multiple credit cards and pay-day lenders? Not to worry. I hear the Salvos have an excellent financial counselling service.

Most charities have few reserves to fall back on when donations fall short. The report by Social Ventures Australia took a sample of 16,000 charities with 1.2 million employees and found that, should their revenue fall by 20 per cent, 88 per cent of them would immediately be making an operating loss, with 17 per cent at high risk of closing their doors within six months. More than 200,000 jobs could be lost as a result of cost-cutting and closures.

To be fair, the Morrison government has modified its JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme so as to include charities and their employees, though the scheme is set to expire in September.

Mitchell Evans, leader of the Salvos’ Sydney Streetlevel mission, says they are expecting “an avalanche of need in the months to come, as the government’s JobKeeper and additional funds under JobSeeker [unemployment benefits] conclude”.

His mission in Surry Hills has already seen a 60 per cent increase in demand for its meal services, and now provides 80 takeaway lunches every day.

At Major Brendan Nottle’s Project 614 in Bourke Street, Melbourne (where my cousin Barry is working), demand for emergency relief has now tripled to 90 people a day. “We’ve particularly seen more men coming to us for help, often with a mate, as they’re embarrassed and don’t really know how to ask for help,” Nottle says.

As Morrison cuts back to be sure of affording the huge tax cuts he’s promised high income-earners like me in 2024, kicking the tin’s the least I can do.

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Government on the cheap leaves us burningly reliant on charity

As the cast were taking their bows at the end of a show before Christmas, one of them stepped forward to say that, as we left, we’d be approached by people with buckets collecting for the NSW Rural Fire Service. Normally I’d reach for my wallet – I’d done so a few weeks earlier when they were collecting for an actors’ charity – but this time I declined.

Like Victoria’s Country Fire Authority, the RFS is staffed by volunteers. Why did they need donations? Presumably, to help cover the cost of needed equipment or incidental expenses. Really? What’s happened to the state government’s cheque book? And don’t I remember hearing that the RFS had had its funding cut?

No one believes every worthy cause should be funded by the government so that private charity becomes redundant. And it’s true the federal government partially subsidises donations by making them tax-deductible. But where do you draw the line between what the government should cover and what can be left to the generosity – or otherwise – of private citizens?

The more I think about it, the more I realise that, as part of their commitment to Smaller Government and lower taxes, governments have been quietly shifting the dividing line between what the government pays for and what should depend on charity.

All governments have been doing it. State governments, for instance, have long left country (but not city) fire-fighting to volunteers. And have long underfunded the upkeep of public schools, believing parents and citizens can be left to make up the shortfall. But it’s been a particular trick of the federal Coalition government as it struggles to return its budget to surplus when there are expensive, vote-buying tax cuts to be covered.

If you’re wondering why, despite his contrition at having taken an overseas break his spin doctors tried to keep secret, and his freely dispensed “thoughts and prayers”, Scott Morrison remained adamant for so long that all that was needed was already being done to help the firefighters, it’s because he knows that too much generosity on the feds’ part could see his precious budget surplus whittled down to nothingness.

Since its election in 2013, this government has been insistent that the budget should be returned to surplus by cutting government spending, not by explicit increases in taxes (hidden tax increases caused by bracket creep are okay, of course, because the punters don’t notice ’em).

Its first budget in 2014 was a long-term plan to improve the budget by what the bureaucrats call “cost-shifting”. Much of the cost of health and education was to be shifted onto the states’ budgets. Some was to be moved to your household’s budget via the $7 charge for visits to the doctor.

That budget was so badly received most of those plans were reversed. But Finance Minister Mathias Cormann and his accountants have continued to limit the growth in government spending by penny-pinching in ways that voters wouldn’t notice or object to.

They’ve got welfare dependency to “its lowest level in 30 years” not by getting the unemployed into jobs, but by using petty excuses to suspend people’s dole payments. How do these unfortunates live without money to live on? They fall back on their families or go cap-in-hand to the Salvos or Vinnies. Get it? The feds are cost-shifting to charities – the same community groups whose grants they’ve cut back.

According to a recent survey of its members’ staffs by the Australian Council of Social Service, 76 per cent of staff dealing with housing the homeless reported an increase in demand, as did 71 per cent of those providing financial counselling and support (aka money). Respondents to the survey said the unmet demand naturally had adverse impacts on the community. Where people fall through the cracks they can end up in hospitals or the justice system (cost-shifting to the states).

I’ve been reading about how many small country towns are relying on newly formed charities for their supply of water. More broadly, the desire to limit government spending encourages politicians to ignore reports warning of looming troubles and push problems off into the future. Some of the foreseen problems fail to materialise, but many eventually reach crisis point and can no longer be ignored.

The aged care royal commission is revealing the shocking results of one attempt to keep government small by relying on for-profit providers, underspending on the provision of home-care packages and on policing institutions’ adherence to the rules.

Which brings us back to our truly heroic volunteer firefighters. Morrison’s reluctant decision to pay them $300 a day for a maximum of 20 days is the least he can do to acknowledge their loss of income (or annual leave) while serving their communities.

His reluctance – and anxiety to emphasise it’s not a payment of wages – is understandable, however. Behavioural economics is clear that paying people to do what they formerly did without payment can kill the motivation to donate your services for noble reasons. Morrison has stressed that this response to a problem of unprecedented severity shouldn’t be seen as setting a precedent.

Good luck with that. If climate change is making drought, heatwaves and bushfires bigger and more frequent, the horrific events of this summer will become a regular occurrence – meaning the days of leaving bushfire fighting to unpaid volunteers are numbered.

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