Why Indian tax evasion costs the UK

Though increased tax justice could help both developed and developing nations, it is unlikely we can

The UK Uncut protests have put tax justice on the agenda as never before. But, while we tend to see this as a problem of domestic policy -- equating amounts dodged in corporate tax to amounts cut from the public sector -- could it also hold the answer to reducing our aid budget, as well as decreasing developing nations' reliance on charity?

The UK's decision to continue aid to India, recently confirmed in its 2011 bilateral aid review by International Development Secretary Andrew Mitchell, has been controversial to say the least, especially given that other areas face deep spending cuts.

In these straitened financial times, countries across the spectrum are having their aid stopped, from incredibly poor nations such as Burundi, Niger, and Lesotho, to burgeoning economic powerhouses China and Russia. So why will aid continue to India at a cost of around £280m a year to the UK?

India has nuclear and space programmes, and has enjoyed above 8 per cent growth over the last four quarters. However, the argument for continued aid goes that poverty in India is clearly endemic, and is not improving despite the country's continued economic growth. The Multidimensional Poverty Index shows that of its population of roughly 1.1bn, there are still around 645m people living in poverty in India, 421m of whom live in the eight northern states alone.

In a sense, the UK could be seen as morally obliged to continue aid to India as a result of the effects of its colonial legacy. However, at the G20 Finance Ministers summit which took place in Paris on the 18th and 19th of February, the Indian minister Pranab Mukherjee pointed out that if tax evasion could be clamped down on, developing countries could begin to take full responsibility for their own affairs without the need for aid.

The extent of India's tax problem -- and the similarities it bears to that in the UK -- are illustrated by Vodafone. The company, targeted by UK Uncut protestors for dodging up to £4.8bn of taxes here, is also charged with evading £1.7bn of tax in India.

In a recent report entitled Illicit Financial Flows from Developing Countries: 2000-2009, Global Financial Integrity (GFI) estimated that India had lost a reported $104bn in tax evasion between 2000 and 2008. In another report, The Drivers and Dynamics of Illicit Financial Flows from India: 1948-2008, the GFI estimated that India had lost a total of $462 billion in tax evasion from independence in 1948 till 2008.

In an attempt to close this gap, India recently joined the Task Force on Financial Integrity and Economic Development. The Task Force advocates improved transparency and accountability in the global financial system, and the halting of actions like capital flight and transfer mispricing, which are developing countries' main problems with tax. India is now also pushing for a removal of the distinction between 'tax evasion' and 'tax fraud' which facilitates the evasion of tax, and impedes effective exchange of tax information between countries.

Nonetheless, India and many other developing countries still need the help of other G20 members in getting tax information exchange agreements, which would help in countering tax evasion. This would include pressuring the International Accounting Standards Board to act seriously on tax dodging. Such actions could then eventually lead to a reduction in the amount of aid required, halting charity and helping developing nations to become financially independent.

The UK itself seems to be unsure where it stands on tax evasion. Furthermore, with George Monbiot's claims that the government are making obscure changes to tax laws to benefit the rich, and Nicholas Shaxon's exposure of the UK's tax haven in the guise of the City of London Corporation, it is hard to imagine that developing nations, including India, will ever see their tax evasion rates decrease.

Liam McLaughlin is a freelance journalist who has also written for Prospect and the Huffington Post. He tweets irregularly @LiamMc108.

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood