Tax dodging by foreign companies risks rendering aid pointless

The amount lost to foreign countries through tax dodging far outstrips the aid budget – and it could get worse.

From caravans, to pasties and grannies, the tax U-turns performed by the Government after the Budget last March have been well documented. But a much more fundamental shift in tax code, which will make it far easier for the biggest multinationals to make even greater use of tax havens has gone almost unnoticed.

Changes to obscure sounding Controlled Foreign Company (CFC) rules radically weaken the UK’s anti-tax haven abuse regime. Not only will they cost the UK almost £1 billion in lost revenues, ActionAid estimates they could also cost developing countries £4 billion a year.

Following a nine month investigation into the importance of tax revenues for developing countries, the cross-party International Development Select Committee are today calling on the Government to drop its CFC changes if a Treasury assessment finds that it will do harm.

Sir Malcolm Bruce MP, Chair of the Committee, argued that "it would be deeply unfortunate if the Government’s [aid] efforts were undermined by its own tax rules." A loss of £4bn is roughly half the British aid budget.

At present, the Treasury refuses to undertake an impact assessment – in spite of recommendations from IMF, World Bank and UN, alongside calls from thousands of ActionAid supporters around the country.

The International Development Committee (IDC) report also recognises the fundamental importance of helping developing countries to increase their own tax revenues, enabling them to put more teachers in schools and nurses in hospitals. Ultimately, improving their ability to collect tax will enable poor countries to end aid dependency.

The committee calls on the Department for International Development to give a higher priority to helping the developing world improve its tax base. Ministerial oversight is vital to ensure that future moves by the Treasury don’t come at the expense of some of the world’s poorest countries.

The report echoes the calls of tax justice campaigners for much greater transparency in the way both multinational companies and tax havens operate. In particular the report highlights the need for the Treasury to press the Channel Islands and the Isle of Man to make the financial accounts of subsidiary companies registered there publicly available.

The OECD currently estimates that developing countries lose three times more to tax havens than they receive in aid each year. Any measures which help prevent this vast out-flow of vital resources could have a transformative effect on the lives of millions of poor people.

The challenge to Government laid down by the IDC is clear. The question is – will they listen?

Uncanny Valley: George Osborne and Mitt Romney spoke during the latter's visit to Britain. Photograph: Getty Images

Chris Jordan is a Tax Justice Campaigner for ActionAid

ELLIE FOREMAN-PECK FOR NEW STATESMAN
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Craig Oliver, Cameron's attack dog, finally bites

A new book reveals the spiteful after life of Downing Street's unlikely spin doctor.

It must be hard being a spin doctor: always in the shadows but always on-message. The murky control that the role requires might explain why David Cameron’s former director of communications Craig Oliver has rushed out his political memoirs so soon after his boss left Downing Street. Now that he has been freed from the shackles of power, Oliver has chosen to expose the bitterness that lingers among those on the losing side in the EU referendum.

The book, which is aptly titled Unleashing Demons, made headlines with its revelation that Cameron felt “badly let down” by Theresa May during the campaign, and that some in the Remain camp regarded the then home secretary as an “enemy agent”. It makes for gripping reading – yet seems uncharacteristically provocative in style for a man who eschewed the sweary spin doctor stereotype, instead advising Cameron to “be Zen” while Tory civil war raged during the Brexit campaign.

It may be not only politicians who find the book a tough read. Oliver’s visceral account of his side’s defeat on 24 June includes a description of how he staggered in a daze down Whitehall until he retched “harder than I have done in my life. Nothing comes up. I retch again – so hard, it feels as if I’ll turn inside out.”

It’s easy to see why losing hit Oliver – who was knighted in Cameron’s resignation honours list – so hard. Arguably, this was the first time the 47-year-old father-of-three had ever failed at anything. The son of a former police chief constable, he grew up in Scotland, went to a state school and studied English at St Andrews University. He then became a broadcast journalist, holding senior posts at the BBC, ITV and Channel 4.

When the former News of the World editor Andy Coulson resigned as No 10’s communications director in January 2011 because of unceasing references in the press to his alleged involvement in the phone-hacking scandal, Oliver was not the obvious replacement. But he was seen as a scandal-free BBC pen-pusher who exuded calm authority, and that won him the job. The Cameron administration, tainted by its association with the Murdoch media empire, needed somebody uncontroversial who could blend into the background.

It wasn’t just Oliver’s relative blandness that recommended him. At the BBC, he had made his name revamping the corporation’s flagship News at Ten by identifying the news angles that would resonate with Middle England. The Conservatives then put this skill to very good use during their 2015 election campaign. His broadcast expertise also qualified him to sharpen up the then prime minister’s image.

Oliver’s own sense of style, however, was widely ridiculed when he showed up for his first week at Downing Street looking every inch the metropolitan media male with a trendy man bag and expensive Beats by Dre headphones, iPad in hand.

His apparent lack of political affiliation caused a stir at Westminster. Political hacks were perplexed by his anti-spin attitude. His style was the antithesis of the attack-dog mode popularised by Alastair Campbell and Damian McBride in the New Labour years. As Robert Peston told the Daily Mail: “Despite working closely with Oliver for three years, I had no clue about his politics or that he was interested in politics.” Five years on, critics still cast aspersions and question his commitment to the Conservative cause.

Oliver survived despite early wobbles. The most sinister of these was the allegation that in 2012 he tried to prevent the Daily Telegraph publishing a story about expenses claimed by the then culture secretary, Maria Miller, using her links to the Leveson inquiry as leverage – an accusation that Downing Street denied. Nevertheless, he became indispensable to Cameron, one of a handful of trusted advisers always at the prime minister’s side.

Newspapers grumbled about Oliver’s preference for broadcast and social media over print. “He’s made it clear he [Oliver] doesn’t give a s*** about us, so I don’t really give a s*** about him,” a veteran correspondent from a national newspaper told Politico.

Yet that approach was why he was hired. There was the occasional gaffe, including the clumsy shot of a stern-looking Cameron, apparently on the phone to President Obama discussing Putin’s incursion into Ukraine, which was widely mocked on Twitter. But overall, reducing Downing Street’s dependence on print media worked: Scotland voted against independence in 2014 and the Tories won a majority in the 2015 general election.

Then came Brexit, a blow to the whole Cameroon inner circle. In his rush to set the record straight and defend Cameron’s legacy – as well as his own – Oliver has finally broken free of the toned-down, straight-guy persona he perfected in power. His memoir is spiteful and melodramatic, like something straight from the mouth of Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It. Perhaps, with this vengeful encore to his mild political career, the unlikely spin doctor has finally fulfilled his potential. 

This article first appeared in the 29 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, May’s new Tories