Apple pays non-US income taxes of just 2 per cent

The company is likely awaiting a "repatriation tax holiday".

Apple's annual tax return (pdf), filed with the US Securities and Exchange Commission, reveals that it paid just 2 per cent tax on "foreign" (non-US) earnings in 2012.

The news, highlighted by the Sunday Times' Simon Duke, can be found on page 61 of the document, which reveals that the company owed $1,203m taxes on foreign pretax earnings of $36.8bn, and deferred payment on $490m in order to realise a tax bill of $713m this year. Even if the deferred taxes were paid in full, the company would still be paying an effective rate of just over 3 per cent.

International sales accounted for 61 per cent of Apple's business in the last year, and so many are likely to cry foul at the low proportion of taxes which it pays in the areas in which it carries out the majority of its business.

Apple, like many multinational corporations, employs many strategies to legally lower its tax bill. The company bases its entire Europe, Middle East and Africa division in Cork, Ireland, a low-tax jurisdiction, and also operates its worldwide sales and distribution network from there. In addition, the company is famous for the large amount of non-repatriated cash it sits on.

This is money which it has earned on foreign sales, and wishes to bring back to the US, but has not yet done so. Like many companies, Apple is hoping for a "repatriation tax holiday", where it can move that income back to the US without having to pay income tax on it. The most recent holiday was in 2004, and saw companies that brought back profits taxed at 5 per cent, instead of 35 per cent. Until Apple decides what to do with those cash holdings, the company is likely to continue deferring tax owed on them.

In addition, the company doesn't have to pay any tax on foreign earnings which are reinvested overseas – it has spent over $5bn this way in the 2012 tax year.

While the 2 per cent paid on international profits may harm Apple's reputation outside the US, the company still pays an effective tax rate of over 25 per cent overall, and provides a breakdown of the deductions that reduce this from the 35 per cent baseline corporation tax rate of the US.

Updated with credit to Sunday Times.

Apple's Headquarters in Cupertino, California. Photograph: Joe Ravi, CC-BY-SA 3.0

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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How “cli-fi” novels humanise the science of climate change

The paradox is that the harder climate-fiction novels try, the less effective they are.

When the Paris UN Climate Change Conference begins at the end of November, the world’s leaders will review the climate framework agreed in Rio in 1992. For well over 20 years, the world has not just been thinking and talking about climate change, it has also been writing and reading about it, in blogs, newspapers, magazines – and in novels.

Climate change fiction is now a recognisable literary phenomenon replete with its own nickname: “cli-fi”. The term was coined in 2007 by Taiwan-based blogger Dan Bloom. Since then, its use has spread: it was even tweeted by Margaret Atwood in 2013:

It is not a genre in the accepted scholarly sense, since it lacks the plot formulas or stylistic conventions that tend to define genres (such as science fiction or the western). However, it does name a remarkable recent literary and publishing trend.

A 21st-century phenomenon?

Putting a number to this phenomenon depends, partly, on how one defines cli-fi. How much of a novel has to be devoted to climate change before it is considered cli-fi? Should we restrict the term to novels about man-made global warming? (If we don’t, we should remember that narratives about global climatic change are as old as The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of the flood.) If we define cli-fi as fictional treatments of climate change caused by human activity in terms of setting, theme or plot – and accept there will be grey areas in the extent of this treatment – a conservative estimate would put the all-time number of cli-fi novels at 150 and growing. This is the figure put forward by Adam Trexler, who has worked with me to survey the development of cli-fi.

This definition also gives us a start date for cli-fi’s history. While planetary climatic change occurs in much 20th-century science fiction, it is only after growing scientific awareness of specifically man-made, carbon-induced climate change in the 1960s and 1970s that novels on this subject emerged. The first is Arthur Herzog’s Heat in 1976, followed by George Turner’s The Sun and the Summer (published in the US as Drowning Towers) in 1987.

At the turn of this century, Maggie Gee and TC Boyle were among the first mainstream authors to publish climate change novels. In this century, we can count Atwood, Michael Crichton, Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, Kim Stanley Robinson, Ilija Trojanow and Jeanette Winterson as major authors who have written about climate change. The past five years have given us notable examples of cli-fi by emerging authors, such as Steven Amsterdam, Edan Lepucki, Jane Rawson, Nathaniel Rich and Antti Tuomainen.

Creative challenges

Cli-fi is all the more noteworthy considering the creative challenge posed by climate change. First, there is the problem of scale – spatial and temporal. Climate change affects the entire planet and all its species – and concerns the end of this planet as we know it. Novels, by contrast, conventionally concern the actions of individual protagonists and/or, sometimes, small communities.

Added to this is the networked nature of climate change: in physical terms, the climate is a large, complex system whose effects are difficult to model. In socio-cultural terms, solutions require intergovernmental agreement – just what COP21 intends – and various top-down and bottom-up transformations. Finally, there exists the difficulty of translating scientific information, with all its predictive uncertainty, into something both accurate and interesting to the average reader.

Still, cli-fi writers have adopted a range of strategies to engage their readers. Many cli-fi novels could be classified as dystopian, post-apocalyptic or, indeed, both – depicting nightmarish societies triggered by sometimes catastrophic climate events. A future world is one effective way of narrating the planetary condition of climate change.

Some novelists are also careful to underpin their scenarios with rigorous climatic predictions and, in this way, translate science fact into a fictional setting. Kingsolver, who trained as an ecologist, is the best example of this – and Atwood and Robinson are also known for their attempts at making their speculations scientifically plausible. Also, cli-fi novels, particularly those set in the present day or very near future rather than in a dystopian future, tend to show the political or psychological dimensions of living with climate change. Readers can identify with protagonists. To some extent, the global community is represented in fictional everymen or everywomen. Or, often, it is through such characters that science is humanised and its role in combating climate change better understood.

Can cli-fi lead to change?

Could cli-fi affect how we think and act on climate change? The paradox is that the harder cli-fi tries, the less effective it is. Many writers want to inspire change, not insist on it: the line between literature and propaganda is one that most novelists respect. Literature invites us to inhabit other worlds and live other lives. Cli-fi at its best lets us travel to climate-changed worlds, to strive there alongside others and then to return armed with that experience.

In Paris, the UN will seek a global agreement on climate action for the first time in more than 20 years. There is plenty of climate change fiction out there to help provide the mental and psychological space to consider that action.

The Conversation

Adeline Johns-Putra, Reader in English Literature, University of Surrey

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.