Romney's Bain Capital under investigation for tax dodging

New York's attorney-general starts examining private equity firms

Bain Capital – the company formerly run by Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney – is among a number of private equity firms being investigated for underpayment of taxes, according to a report in the Financial Times:

[New York's attorney-general, Democrat Eric] Schneiderman has issued subpoenas as part of an investigation into the “fee-waiver” strategy, in which executives invested management fees paid by investors back into one of the investment funds. Any profits on those fees would be taxed at the capital gains rate – a much lower tax rate than if it were treated as ordinary income. There is debate over whether the strategy is legal, aggressive or illegal. The strategy was risky and could have resulted in losses for the manager if the investment funds were not profitable.

The fact that Bain Capital is being investigated has led to some – including one "private equity executive" quoted by the FT – to brand the move as a political one, but other equity groups are being investigated as well, including KKR (part owners of Alliance Boots, amongst others) and Apollo Group (an education-focused firm which owns one of Britain's two private universities, BPP University College).

Bain is being roped into the investigation – run by the state's Taxpayer Protection Bureau – due to the hundreds of pages of the company's internal financial documents which were leaked by Gawker, which reveals that the Bain partners save more than $200m in federal income taxes and more than $20m in Medicare taxes.

The New York Times reports that there is widespread belief that the practice is not only legal, but ethically justifiable as well:

Tax lawyers have justified the arrangements by arguing that converting the management fees into carried interest, which could lose some or all of its value if a fund does poorly, entitles the managers to the lower capital gains rate, which is intended to help mitigate the risks taken by investors.

“They’re risking their management fee — they’re giving up the right to that management fee in any and all events,” said Jack S. Levin, a finance lawyer whose firm has represented Bain on some matters. Mr. Levin said he did not consider the practice risky or even aggressive.

“The I.R.S. has known that private equity funds have been doing this for 20 years,” he said.

If the move is politically motivated, it's likely to prove rather successful. Romney's tax status has been under examination since the day he made his first presidential bid, and he has been extremely unwilling to reveal anything but the barest minimum of information about it. The most compelling theory as to why is the suggestion that, in 2009, he may have taken advantage of an IRS amnesty into illegal Swiss bank accounts. And the status of Romney at Bain is similarly murky.

All of which is to say that the candidate has the whiff of financial impropriety floating around him most of the time, and it doesn't take much from, say, a Democratic attorney-general to make more bad news for him.

Obama and – Bane? Bain? Romney. Obama and Romney.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Politics doesn't just connect us to the past and the future – it's what makes us human

To those people who tell me that they’re not interested in politics, I often say: “But politics is interested in you!”

I have long been haunted by a scene in George Orwell’s great novel Nineteen Eighty-Four. Winston Smith, the hero, is forced to watch propaganda films depicting acts of war and destruction. He is moved by something he sees: a woman trying to protect a child by wrapping her arm around him as they are attacked. It’s a futile gesture. She cannot shield the boy or stop the bullets but she embraces him all the same – before, as Orwell writes, “The helicopter blew them both to pieces.”

For Winston, what Orwell calls the “enveloping, protecting gesture” of the woman’s arm comes to symbolise something profoundly human – an expression of selflessness and of unconditional love in an unforgiving world. Scenes such as this we now witness daily in footage from the besieged eastern Aleppo and other Syrian towns, people in extreme situations showing extraordinary dignity and kindness.

I read Nineteen Eighty-Four for the first time in late adolescence. I’d dropped out of sixth-form college without completing my A-levels and was commuting on a coach from my parents’ house in Hertfordshire to London, where I worked as a junior clerk for the Electricity Council. During this long daily journey – sometimes two hours each way – I started to read seriously for the first time in my life.

I was just getting interested in politics – this was the high tide of the Thatcher years – and Orwell’s portrayal of a dystopian future in which Britain (renamed “Airstrip One”) had become a Soviet-style totalitarian state was bleakly fascinating. Fundamentally the book seemed to me to be about the deep ­human yearning for political change – about the never-ending dream of conserving or creating a better society.

Nineteen Eighty-Four was published in 1949 (Orwell died in January 1950, aged 46), at a time of rationing and austerity in Britain – but also of renewal. Under the leadership of Clement Attlee, Winston Churchill’s deputy in the wartime coalition, the Labour government was laying the foundations of what became the postwar settlement.

The National Health Service and the welfare state were created. Essential industries such as the railways were nationalised. The Town and Country Planning Act was passed, opening the way for the redevelopment of tracts of land. Britain’s independent nuclear deterrent was commissioned. New towns were established – such as Harlow in Essex, where I was born and brought up.

To grow up in Harlow, I now understand, was to be part of a grand experiment. Many of the families I knew there had escaped the bomb-ruined streets of the East End of London. Our lives were socially engineered. Everything we needed was provided by the state – housing, education, health care, libraries, recreational facilities. (One friend described it to me as being like East Ger­many without the Stasi.)

This hadn’t happened by accident. As my father used to say, we owed the quality of our lives to the struggles of those who came before us. The conservative philosopher Edmund Burke described society as a partnership between “those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born” – and I find this idea of an intergenerational social contract persuasive.

Progress, however, isn’t inevitable. There is no guarantee that things will keep getting better. History isn’t linear, but contingent and discontinuous. And these are dark and turbulent new times in which we are living.

A civil war has been raging in Syria for more than five years, transforming much of the Middle East into a theatre of great-power rivalry. Europe has been destabilised by economic and refugee crises and by the emergence of insurgent parties, from the radical left and the radical right. The liberal world order is crumbling. Many millions feel locked out or left behind by globalisation and rapid change.

But we shouldn’t despair. To those people who tell me that they’re not interested in politics, I often say: “But politics is interested in you!”

And part of what it means to be human is to believe in politics and the change that politics can bring, for better and worse.

What, after all, led so many Americans to vote for an anti-establishment populist such as Donald Trump? He has promised to “make America great again” – and enough people believed him or, at least, wanted to believe him to carry him all the way to the White House. They want to believe in something different, something better, in anything better – which, of course, Trump may never deliver.

So politics matters.

The decisions we take collectively as ­humans have consequences. We are social creatures and rational agents, yet we can be dangerously irrational. This is why long-established institutions, as well as the accumulated wisdom of past generations, are so valuable, as Burke understood.

Politics makes us human. It changes our world and ultimately affects who we are and how we live, not just in the here and now, but long into the future.

An edited version of this essay was broadcast as part of the “What Makes Us Human?” series on BBC Radio 2’s “Jeremy Vine” show

Jason Cowley is editor of the New Statesman. He has been the editor of Granta, a senior editor at the Observer and a staff writer at the Times.

This article first appeared in the 01 December 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Age of outrage