The VAT rules in the European Union are harmonized (on paper), and every EU Member State must implement these EU VAT rules into their national legislation. That sounds pretty orderly — like a well-oiled machine. Until, of course, someone disagrees about how the machine is supposed to work.
That’s where the European Court of Justice (ECJ) steps in. When Member States, taxpayers, or even national courts can’t agree on how to interpret VAT rules, the ECJ provides the final judgment — and that decision applies across all EU countries. Think of it as the grown-up in the room when all the kids are arguing over who gets the last slice of the VAT-cake.
But before the ECJ passes its verdict, there’s often an Advocate General (AG) who weighs in. The AG gives a non-binding opinion, which is a bit like a TED Talk on VAT, only with more footnotes and fewer standing ovations. These opinions are usually thoughtful, sometimes philosophical, and occasionally even funny — which is impressive given the subject matter.
Where the ECJ typically sticks to the narrow legal questions, the AG often takes the liberty to explore the wider implications, throw in a bit of history, policy, and social context — maybe even a quote from Aristotle, if they’re feeling bold. I wouldn’t call it bedtime reading, unless you’re a VAT enthusiast, an insomniac, or a postgraduate law student. But now and then, these opinions turn out to be surprisingly entertaining reads — the kind where you nod, raise an eyebrow, and think, “Hmm, interesting. Also, what is wrong with me?”
Currently, there are eleven Advocates General, appointed for six-year terms. Five come from the “big” Member States (Germany, France, Italy, Spain, and Poland), and the other six are rotated among the remaining Member States. There’s also a First Advocate General, who coordinates the work and decides who gets which case (probably using a mysterious sorting hat or possibly a spreadsheet). There’s even a provision for ad hoc AGs, which is a great concept — like a VAT Batman, called in only when things get really technical and the city needs saving. Although in practice, it’s not currently being used.
Now, here’s the twist: VAT people, by nature, are just like other people. They, too, have strong opinions. About everything. But especially about VAT. Their thoughts don’t carry the same weight as an AG or ECJ judgment — but they’re still published in blogs, articles, podcasts, and the occasional angry tweet. Students then study those opinions, write theses about them, and voilà — science happens.
Which leads us to the question: Is VAT a science?
Well, we test hypotheses (Can I deduct this VAT?), gather evidence (Invoices, contracts, flowcharts), and reach conclusions (Yes, if used for taxable activity). If that’s not a scientific method, I don’t know what is. Sure, we’re not curing diseases or launching rockets, but we are trying to predict behaviour, apply general rules to specific cases, and ensure the machine (sort of) runs smoothly. We are interpreting and testing the existing rules, and try to determine and establish new ones. It’s just that our lab equipment consists of Excel sheets and slightly traumatized ERP systems.
And if science is a structured quest for truth — with debates, footnotes, and the occasional eureka moment — then yes: VAT is science.
It just happens to be one where the laws of physics are occasionally overruled by the tax authorities.
As a wise friend of mine once said (and many people will nod along):
“Of all the certainties that people so desperately need in life, I find the most reassuring to be the Tax Authorities, which really misses no opportunity to show what an unprecedentedly amateurish organization it is.”
A poetic way to say: science has rules. VAT has rules. And somewhere in the chaos of compliance, litigation, and opinions — something like scientific knowledge emerges. Just with more paperwork. VAT may not send rockets to the moon — but it does have gravity, black holes, and the occasional explosion in cross-border transactions.
