Goldman Sachs avoiding the 50p rate proves the folly of cutting it too soon

The 45p rate gets an artificial boost while 50p is made worse in comparison.

Goldman Sachs is considering whether to defer bonuses for its employees into the new tax year, starting 6 April, in order to avoid the 50p tax rate.

The Guardian's Jill Treanor reports:

A number of banks are known to have considered whether to make the move, which would save their top employees thousands of pounds. But City sources believe many of them have rejected the idea to avoid any negative publicity in the wake of the row surrounding corporation tax paid by Starbucks in the UK.

The Wall Street firm – which publishes its full year results on Wednesday and tells staff their bonuses for 2012 shortly afterwards – is not thought to be considering changing the way the bonuses for 2012 are handed out. The proposal being considered would benefit parts of bonuses deferred from the years 2009, 2010 and 2011, which are due to be handed to staff this year in the form of shares.

The move underlines the lack of evidence available that the 50p rate actually hurt revenues. HMRC's analysis in March last year determined that the optimal tax rate was 48 per cent, a figure which 1) didn't justify cutting the rate to 45 per cent and 2) was only derived due to a specific statistic – TIE, taxable income elasticity – being given a value of 0.45. Given studies cited by HMRC for TIE showed it being anywhere from -0.6 to 2.75, there's rather a lot of uncertainty in that analysis.

But the bigger problem for evidence of the tax cut's effects is that, in cutting the 50p rate so rapidly, the Chancellor destroyed the possibility that we might actually get some useful data. The most effective way to avoid the tax is to shift income forward or backward. As a result, the first year it was in operation revealed that £6.6bn of taxable income had been shifted forward by a year; and we now know that this year, the last it will be in operation, a significant chink of income will be shifted back to the 2013/14 tax year.

Add in the fact that even HMRC assumed that some income in 2011/12 will have been declared in 2009/10, and some more will have been coincidentally forestalled to 2012/13 (when it could be forestalled further to 2013/14), and it is clear: there has not been a single year when a "normal" amount of tax was paid at the 50p rate. Every year it was in operation will have resulted in an artificially depressed take.

Similarly, the 45p rate will, for the first few years of its operation, have an artificially boosted take. It will look far more effective at discouraging tax avoidance than it actually is.

Consider this a warning, then: 2014 will see a lot of attempts to misuse data to prove a point. Don't take it at face value.

Photograph: Getty Images

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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Would you jump off a cliff if someone told you to? One time, I did

I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain.

Ever heard the phrase, “Would you jump off a cliff if they told you to?” It was the perpetual motif of my young teenage years: my daily escapades, all of which sprang from a need to impress a peer, were distressing and disgusting my parents.

At 13, this tomboyish streak developed further. I wrote urgent, angry poems containing lines like: “Who has desire for something higher than jumping for joy and smashing a light?” I wanted to push everything to its limits, to burst up through the ceiling of the small town I lived in and land in America, or London, or at least Derby. This was coupled with a potent and thumping appetite for attention.

At the height of these feelings, I was walking across the bridge in Matlock park, which is about 12 feet high, with a large group of other kids from my year, in the pouring rain. One of the cool girls started saying that her cousin had jumped off the bridge into the river and had just swum away – and that one of us should do it.

Then someone said that I should do it, because I always did that stuff. More people started saying I should. The group drew to a halt. Someone offered me a pound, which was the clincher. “I’m going to jump!” I yelled, and clambered on to the railing.

There wasn’t a complete hush, which annoyed me. I looked down. It was raining very hard and I couldn’t see the bottom of the riverbed. “It looks really deep because of the rain,” someone said. I told myself it would just be like jumping into a swimming pool. It would be over in a few minutes, and then everyone would know I’d done it. No one could ever take it away from me. Also, somebody would probably buy me some Embassy Filter, and maybe a Chomp.

So, surprising even myself, I jumped.

I was about three seconds in the air. I kept my eyes wide open, and saw the blur of trees, the white sky and my dyed red hair. I landed with my left foot at a 90-degree angle to my left ankle, and all I could see was red. “I’ve gone blind!” I thought, then realised it was my hair, which was plastered on to my eyes with rain.

When I pushed it out of the way and looked around, there was no one to be seen. They must have started running as I jumped. Then I heard a voice from the riverbank – a girl called Erin Condron, who I didn’t know very well. She pushed me home on someone’s skateboard, because my ankle was broken.

When we got to my house, I waited for Mum to say, “Would you jump off another cliff if they told you to?” but she was ashen. I had to lie that Dave McDonald’s brother had pushed me in the duck pond. And that’s when my ankle started to throb. I never got the pound, but I will always be grateful to Erin Condron. 

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser