Cayman Islands scrap planned income tax

Tax haven remains tax haven.

The Cayman islands, famed for being a haven for tax exiles and a jurisdiction which imposes minimal transparency requirements on foreign businesses, has scrapped an income tax which it was planning to levy on expatriate workers.

The Associated Press reports:

[Premier McKeeva] Bush announced in late July that he planned to impose a direct tax on expatriate workers' income Sept. 1 to bail the territorial government out of a financial hole and to meet Britain's demand that Cayman diversify its sources of revenue beyond the work permit fees, duties and other fees it now relies on.

He later said the annual income threshold would be $36,000, which would have affected about 5,870 expatriates. He described it as a "community enhancement fee" rather than a tax.

The proposal outraged many people, who said the tax would be discriminatory and could destroy the islands' main economic anchor.

The tax is, of course, problematic; imposing a special fee just on expatriate workers is a prima facie unjust thing to do. But it is somewhat surprising that Cayman residents have been quite so vehemently opposed to what is, after all, a relatively normal thing to experience in other countries.

It's almost as though they moved there for the express purpose of avoiding tax. Almost.

Scrapping the tax now leaves the Islands with a black hole in their finances, which the other ~48,000 residents of Cayman will struggle to pay off. But there could be a silver lining to that, as accountant and tax campaigner Richard Murphy writes:

The idea that local democracy could actually bring tax havens down is, however, one that I do find rather appealing. There would be a sense of justice in it if it were to happen, and the more local people suffer in places like Cayman and Jersey for the abuse being administered from their shores the moper likely that is to happen.

The Cayman Islands. Photograph: Getty Images

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

Getty
Show Hide image

An alternative Trainspotting script for John Humphrys’ Radio 4 “Choose Life” tribute

Born chippy.

Your mole often has Radio 4’s Today programme babbling away comfortingly in the background while emerging blinking from the burrow. So imagine its horror this morning, when the BBC decided to sully this listening experience with John Humphrys doing the “Choose Life” monologue from Trainspotting.

“I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Radio 4?” he concluded, as a nation cringed.

Introduced as someone who has “taken issue with modernity”, Humphrys launched into the film character Renton’s iconic rant against the banality of modern life.

But Humphrys’ role as in-studio curmudgeon is neither endearing nor amusing to this mole. Often tasked with stories about modern technology and digital culture by supposedly mischievous editors, Humphrys sounds increasingly cranky and ill-informed. It doesn’t exactly make for enlightening interviews. So your mole has tampered with the script. Here’s what he should have said:

“Choose life. Choose a job and then never retire, ever. Choose a career defined by growling and scoffing. Choose crashing the pips three mornings out of five. Choose a fucking long contract. Choose interrupting your co-hosts, politicians, religious leaders and children. Choose sitting across the desk from Justin Webb at 7.20 wondering what you’re doing with your life. Choose confusion about why Thought for the Day is still a thing. Choose hogging political interviews. Choose anxiety about whether Jim Naughtie’s departure means there’s dwindling demand for grouchy old men on flagship political radio shows. Choose a staunch commitment to misunderstanding stories about video games and emoji. Choose doing those stories anyway. Choose turning on the radio and wondering why the fuck you aren’t on on a Sunday morning as well. Choose sitting on that black leather chair hosting mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows (Mastermind). Choose going over time at the end of it all, pishing your last few seconds on needlessly combative questions, nothing more than an obstacle to that day’s editors being credited. Choose your future. Choose life . . .”

I'm a mole, innit.