Tax justice must be on the agenda for the post-2015 development goals

Anything else would be dodging the problem.

As the 2015 deadline approaches for achieving the "Millennium Development Goals" – the global benchmarks for tackling poverty – questions are growing louder about how far we’ve come, and what we do next. David Cameron is to co-chair a UN High-Level Panel on this "post-2015" agenda. At conference tables, across the blogosphere and in an avalanche of reports, donors and development experts are starting to haggle over the future of aid and development.  

Cameron has set out his stall already, describing his vision of a "golden thread" of development through tackling corruption; securing rights; and shifting focus from aid to economic growth, led by business and private enterprise. Cameron’s co-chairs, Presidents Susilo Yudhoyono of Indonesia and Ellen Johnson Sirleaf of Liberia, also want to look beyond aid to unlock wealth through “economic growth, trade, tackling corruption, effective government and open societies”.

There’s no denying that a re-think is needed. The world has profoundly changed since the MDGs were conceived in the 1990s. With persistent crises in wealthy economies, global aid levels fell last year for the first time since 1997. The UK government is still rightly committed to reaching the UN agreed target of spending 0.7 per cent of national income on aid, and though it will remain vital for many years to come, it’s high time to also look for new resources to fight poverty.

At the same time, we’ve witnessed a seismic shift in the geography of economic growth and potential. It’s now clear that Asian and African economies will continue to grow far faster than in Europe and North America. The boom is far from universal, but nor is it confined to the new "big beasts" of the global economy. In the last decade some sub-Saharan African countries have experienced growth rates higher than Brazil and China – but with health, education and incomes lagging far behind in many places. 

Cameron and his co-chairs rightly acclaim the world-changing potential of this economic transformation – but the poorest citizens are yet to see its impact.  Certainly efforts to tackle poverty must draw more from developing countries’ own growth and resources, far more reliable than volatile aid flows. But the global development challenge is now neither simply to increase aid, nor just to help developing countries to attract private investment and promote growth. It is to convert the rewards of investment and growth into jobs, incomes, health and education for citizens. 

This can only happen if developing countries are able to raise their own revenue fairly, and spend it equitably. Financing the fight against poverty requires companies, investors and wealthy individuals to pay their taxes due. Yet the OECD has estimated that developing countries lose more to tax havens than they receive in aid. ActionAid estimates that just one multinational company we investigated, the FTSE100 drinks giant SABMiller, has avoided £20m a year in taxes across Africa and Asia – enough to put an extra 250,000 children in school – helped by shifting profits through a network of companies in Switzerland, Mauritius and the Netherlands. 

Most developed countries collect between 30 and 50 per cent of their GDP in tax revenue. In sub-Saharan Africa the average is just 17 per cent. How can we help bridge the gap? Aid can help. Assistance to revenue authorities in developing countries to combat tax dodging is some of the most cost-effective aid imaginable. The Rwanda Revenue Authority was set up in 1998 with the help of a £20m grant from the UK – the same amount it now collects in revenues every four weeks. Equally vital is funding to help citizens hold government spending to account, scrutinising budgets and social programmes and ensuring that they’re meeting the needs of the poorest. 

Closer to home, the IMF, UN, World Bank and OECD have all urged developed countries to make sure changes to their own tax regimes don’t damage those of developing countries. Yet the Finance Bill currently going through Parliament threatens to open up a major new loophole in the UK’s 'Controlled Foreign Companies’ rules, making it easier for multinational companies to shift profits into tax havens. ActionAid estimates this rule change is likely to cost poor countries £4bn a year, on top of nearly £1bn to the UK’s public finances annually. This flies in the face of the need to support developing countries’ efforts to become dependent of aid.

And at a global level, the fight against international tax avoidance has slipped steadily down the agenda of the G8 and the G20 over the last 18 months, despite its potential to stabilise public finances in the developing and the developed world alike. The "post-2015" re-think is an opportunity to put it back on the agenda. At stake is the future of the fight against poverty. 

High life - but at what cost? SABMiller has avoided tax across Africa. Photograph: Getty Images

Mike Lewis is a tax justice campaigner at ActionAid

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In the 1980s, I went to a rally where Labour Party speakers shared the stage with men in balaclavas

The links between the Labour left and Irish republicanism are worth investigating.

A spat between Jeremy Corbyn’s henchfolk and Conor McGinn, the MP for St Helens North, caught my ear the other evening. McGinn was a guest on BBC Radio 4’s Westminster Hour, and he obligingly revisited the brouhaha for the listeners at home. Apparently, following an interview in May, in which McGinn called for Corbyn to “reach out beyond his comfort zone”, he was first threatened obliquely with the sack, then asked for a retraction (which he refused to give) and finally learned – from someone in the whips’ office – that his party leader was considering phoning up McGinn’s father to whip the errant whipper-in into line. On the programme, McGinn said: “The modus operandi that he [Corbyn] and the people around him were trying to do [sic], involving my family, was to isolate and ostracise me from them and from the community I am very proud to come from – which is an Irish nationalist community in south Armagh.”

Needless to say, the Labour leader’s office has continued to deny any such thing, but while we may nurture some suspicions about his behaviour, McGinn was also indulging in a little airbrushing when he described south Armagh as an “Irish ­nationalist community”. In the most recent elections, Newry and Armagh returned three Sinn Fein members to the Northern Ireland Assembly (as against one Social Democratic and Labour Party member) and one Sinn Fein MP to Westminster. When I last looked, Sinn Fein was still a republican, rather than a nationalist, party – something that McGinn should only be too well aware of, as the paternal hand that was putatively to have been lain on him belongs to Pat McGinn, the former Sinn Fein mayor of Newry and Armagh.

According to the Irish News, a “close friend” of the McGinns poured this cold water on the mini-conflagration: “Anybody who knows the McGinn family knows that Pat is very proud of Conor and that they remain very close.” The friend went on to opine: “He [Pat McGinn] found the whole notion of Corbyn phoning him totally ridiculous – as if Pat is going to criticise his son to save Jeremy Corbyn’s face. They would laugh about it were it not so sinister.”

“Sinister” does seem the mot juste. McGinn, Jr grew up in Bessbrook during the Troubles. I visited the village in the early 1990s on assignment. The skies were full of the chattering of British army Chinooks, and there were fake road signs in the hedgerows bearing pictograms of rifles and captioned: “Sniper at work”. South Armagh had been known for years as “bandit country”. There were army watchtowers standing sentinel in the dinky, green fields and checkpoints everywhere, manned by some of the thousands of the troops who had been deployed to fight what was, in effect, a low-level counter-insurgency war. Nationalist community, my foot.

What lies beneath the Corbyn-McGinn spat is the queered problematics of the ­relationship between the far left wing of the Labour Party and physical-force Irish republicanism. I also recall, during the hunger strikes of the early 1980s, going to a “Smash the H-Blocks” rally in Kilburn, north London, at which Labour Party speakers shared the stage with representatives from Sinn Fein, some of whom wore balaclavas and dark glasses to evade the telephoto lenses of the Met’s anti-terrorist squad.

The shape-shifting relationship between the “political wing” of the IRA and the men with sniper rifles in the south Armagh bocage was always of the essence of the conflict, allowing both sides a convenient fiction around which to posture publicly and privately negotiate. In choosing to appear on platforms with people who might or might not be terrorists, Labour leftists also sprinkled a little of their stardust on themselves: the “stardust” being the implication that they, too, under the right circumstances, might be capable of violence in pursuit of their political ends.

On the far right of British politics, Her Majesty’s Government and its apparatus are referred to derisively as “state”. There were various attempts in the 1970s and 1980s by far-right groupuscules to link up with the Ulster Freedom Fighters and other loyalist paramilitary organisations in their battle against “state”. All foundered on the obvious incompetence of the fascists. The situation on the far left was different. The socialist credentials of Sinn Fein/IRA were too threadbare for genuine expressions of solidarity, but there was a sort of tacit confidence-and-supply arrangement between these factions. The Labour far left provided the republicans with the confidence that, should an appropriately radical government be elected to Westminster, “state” would withdraw from Northern Ireland. What the republicans did for the mainland militants was to cloak them in their penumbra of darkness: without needing to call down on themselves the armed might of “state”, they could imply that they were willing to take it on, should the opportunity arise.

I don’t for a second believe that Corbyn was summoning up these ghosts of the insurrectionary dead when he either did or did not threaten to phone McGinn, Sr. But his supporters need to ask themselves what they’re getting into. Their leader, if he was to have remained true to the positions that he has espoused over many years, should have refused to sit as privy counsellor upon assuming his party office, and refused all the other mummery associated with the monarchical “state”. That he didn’t do so was surely a strategic decision. Such a position would make him utterly unelectable.

The snipers may not be at work in south Armagh just now – but there are rifles out there that could yet be dug up. I wouldn’t be surprised if some in Sinn Fein knew where they are, but one thing’s for certain: Corbyn hasn’t got a clue, bloody or otherwise. 

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser