Google tax: why there should be an inquiry

The "not evil" solution.

A committee of MPs have said that Google should face a comprehensive inquiry into its tax affairs, calling the internet company’s tax arrangements "deeply unconvincing" — which is quite an understatement. In the five years to 2011, Google enjoyed £11.5 billion in revenues and paid £10 million in corporation tax.

Google executives, of course, have always maintained that its tax arrangements are lawful — its brainy accountants probably follow the letter of the law with utmost care, their job depends on it. Whether they follow the spirit of the law — or indeed the spirit of Google’s own "don’t be evil" motto — is quite another matter. 

The government’s sweetheart tax deals admittedly send out mixed messages, but I’m quite sure that the dry wording of the UK’s corporate tax codes doesn’t exactly say: ‘The standard rate of corporation tax in the UK is 23-30 per cent, but if you want to employ some of this country's most expensive brains to set up super-complex networks of branches and shell companies to process profits on tropical islands (or indeed, in Ireland) that’s cool too!’

No other area of law offers such great rewards — or indeed makes so many allowances — for individuals to twist its meaning.

The figure that’s often circulated in this context is that the UK’s tax gap stands at £32 billion (which includes tax avoidance by individuals as well as companies.) This is high enough, but tax evasion or avoidance by big corporations has a second cost: it penalises smaller companies that aren’t able to employ genius accountants to set up complex international structures to avoid tax. How are small tech start-ups meant to compete with the likes of Apple, Google and Amazon when the latter are able to pay virtually no tax? 

You can be both pro-business and anti-corporate tax avoidance, especially if you’d like to see more innovative, exciting new firms challenge today’s internet giants, whose power has allowed them to show a casual disregard to the privacy and rights of the customers they purport to serve. 

The challenge MPs will face when trying to hold Google to account is that the tax affairs of international companies require international tax solutions — and these will take time and will need near-unprecedented international co-ordination. But that doesn’t mean we should take the pressure off the likes of Google.

This article first appeared on Spears magazine

Google CEO Larry Page. Photograph: Getty Images

Sophie McBain is a freelance writer based in Cairo. She was previously an assistant editor at the New Statesman.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear