Why Britain's biggest businesses are addicted to tax havens

The government is making it easier for multinationals to dodge taxes in developing countries.

What's a billion pounds to the government these days? Well, it's the amount that George Osborne spent slashing corporation tax from 28 per cent to 25 per cent over two years. But fewer people seem to have noticed that plans put out for consultation by the Treasury recently will give another £840m specifically to British multinational companies who use tax havens. Unmentioned in the government's consultation document is that these reforms will also make it much easier for British multinationals to use tax havens to dodge taxes in developing countries.

Research published by ActionAid today shows just how big this giveaway is likely to be. For the first time, we've been able to show the massive extent of tax haven use throughout the FTSE 100. 98 of the companies are using tax havens, where you'll find a whopping 38 per cent of all of their overseas companies located.

Our high street banks are the heaviest users with 1,649 tax haven companies shared between Barclays, HSBC, RBS and Lloyds. Barclays has 174 companies registered in the Cayman Islands alone.

Our research also raises real questions about the impact on developing countries, which lose three times more to tax havens than they receive in aid each year. The biggest ten tax haven users have a total of 3833 companies between them in tax havens (see chart), but they also have 1951 companies in developing countries. If we want these countries to become independent of development aid, as well as to end poverty, they need much more tax revenue to pay for public services.

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This all seems a little inconsistent. First, there is Britain's commitment as part of the G20 (albeit under the Brown government) to "take action against non-cooperative jurisdictions, including tax havens. We stand ready to deploy sanctions to protect our public finances and financial systems." Tax havens will be on the agenda again at the G20 summit in Cannes next month, and it's unlikely that Presidents Sarkozy or Obama, both facing election next year, will be keen to give up the fight they championed in 2009.

Second, there's the current government's commitments: Vince Cable has said that "much of the shadow banking sector, a major contributor to the economic crisis, was only possible because of tax haven secrecy," while George Osborne has promised to "target tax evasion and off-shore tax havens.Everyone must pay their fair share."

Third, there's the government's development agenda. David Cameron made "effective tax systems" a part of his vision for Africa earlier this year, and International Development Secretary Andrew Mitchell told an audience of campaigners that "everyone should pay their taxes due...we champion transparency."

The government's coalition agreement commits to "deliver value for money for British taxpayers and to maximise the impact of our aid budget," and "make every effort to tackle tax avoidance." So our new research not only raises big questions for the FTSE100, it also demonstrates the need for more coherence in government policy. Making it easier for British multinationals to dodge taxes in developing countries is a false economy for British taxpayers, because it takes money away from the very same governments that we are supporting through our overseas aid.

Asha Tharoor is the senior media officer of ActionAid.

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We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.