Every time you compare taxation to revenue, an accountant kills a kitten

So stop doing it.

Earlier this week, Margaret Hodge, the chair of the Public Accounts Committee (PAC), wrote an editorial on tax avoidance, in which she pointed out that:

In 2012 Amazon paid just £2.4m of UK corporation tax on UK sales of £4.2bn – less than the £2.5m it received in government grants.

That's just not a valid comparison. Corporation tax is paid on the profits a company makes, not on the amount of revenue it takes in. That's because otherwise, a company with a small turnover but massive profits would pay barely any tax, while a company with massive turnover but a tiny mark-up would pay a huge amount — which would drive the latter company out of business. By taxing profits, we only take money companies can afford to pay, minimising the deadweight loss of taxation.

It's actually the same when it comes to people. It might not feel it, because it's tempting to view income tax as a tax on your "revenue", but technically its a tax on your profits. You can see this most clearly in the tax treatment of self-employed people, who are allowed to deduct the costs of business from their income tax. But it's also why, if your workplace allows you to claim expenses, you don't pay tax on them. Again, they're revenue (the money ends up in your account, after all), but not profit.

The real problem on a personal level is that few workplaces do, in fact, provide everything you need to do your job directly, or let you expense them. So, for instance, if your employer pays for your commute, you are very lucky indeed; most people pay for their petrol, bikes, or season tickets out of their post-tax income. But that's a problem with employers, not the tax system (just as it is in the depressing story in today's Guardian of employers failing to account for transportation time in zero-hour contracts, leading to people driving 50 miles a day for shifts as short as 15 minutes).

So for a company like Amazon, which has a business strategy which involves making as little profit as possible and even making a worldwide loss last year, comparing the tax it paid to the revenue it took in is utterly, utterly misleading.

The problem the PAC has is that companies don't tend to report profit on a country-by-country basis. That's because it's pretty hard to work out; if you spend $10bn on R&D in the USA, and made 20 per cent of your sales in the UK, should $2bn of the R&D cost be subtracted from UK revenue? What if the R&D was mostly spent on widget A, while the UK sales came from widget B? But what if widget B was largely based on offshoots from discoveries made while creating widget A?

It all gets complicated, fast. And in fact, it's exactly those sort of calculations which got Apple in trouble last month; the company attributed a large amount of its R&D budget to its Irish office, and got attacked for it.

Country-by-country reporting of profits could – and probably should – be mandated, which would at least let Margaret Hodge quote the right comparison to the amount of tax companies pay. But even then, the debate will just step one degree up the chain, to whether the reporting fairly distributes profits. The problem, at heart, is that tax avoidance is like pornography: we know it when we see it, but it studiously avoids any set definition.

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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If the SNP truly want another referendum, the clock is ticking

At party conference in Glasgow, I heard Scotland’s governing party demand a future distinctly different from the one being sketched out in Westminster. 

Nicola Sturgeon described Glasgow as the “dear green city” in her opening address to the SNP party conference, which may surprise anyone raised on a diet of Ken Loach films. In fact, if you’re a fan of faded grandeur and nostalgic parks, there are few places to beat it. My morning walk to conference took me past chipped sandstone tenements, over a bridge across the mysterious, twisting River Kelvin, and through a long avenue of autumnal trees in Kelvingrove Park. In the evenings, the skyline bristled with Victorian Gothic university buildings and church spires, and the hipster bars turned on their lights.

In between these two walks, I heard Scotland’s governing party demand a future distinctly different from the one being sketched out in Westminster. Glasgow’s claim to being the UK’s second city expired long ago but I wonder if, post-Brexit, there might be a case for reviving it.



Scottish politics may never have looked more interesting, but at least one Glasgow taxi driver is already over it. All he hears in the back of his cab is “politics, fitba and religion”, he complained when he picked me up from the station. The message didn’t seem to have reached SNP delegates at the conference centre on the Clyde, who cheered any mention of another referendum.

The First Minister, though, seems to have sensed the nation’s weariness. Support for independence has fallen from 47 per cent in June (Survation) to 39 per cent in October (BMG Research). Sturgeon made headlines with the announcement of a draft referendum bill, but read her speeches carefully and nothing is off the table. SNP politicians made the same demands again and again – devolved control of immigration and access to the single market. None ruled out these happening while remaining in the UK.

If Sturgeon does want a soft Brexit deal, though, she must secure it fast. Most experts agree that it would be far easier for an independent Scotland to inherit Britain’s EU membership than for it to reapply. Once Article 50 is triggered, the SNP will be in a race against the clock.


The hare and the tortoise

If anyone is still in doubt about the SNP’s position, look who won the deputy leadership race. Angus Robertson, the gradualist leader of the party in the Commons, saw off a referendum-minded challenger, Tommy Sheppard, with 52.5 per cent of the vote.

Conference would be nothing without an independence rally, and on the final day supporters gathered for one outside. A stall sold “Indyref 2” T-shirts but the grass-roots members I spoke to were patient, at least for now. William Prowse, resplendent in a kilt and a waistcoat covered in pro-indy
badges, remains supportive of Sturgeon. “The reason she has not called an Indy 2 vote
is we need to have the right numbers,” he told me. “She’s playing the right game.”

Jordi McArthur, a member for 30 years, stood nearby waving a flagpole with the Scottish, Welsh and Catalan flags side by side. “We’re happy to wait until we know what is happening with Brexit,” he said. “But at the same time, we want a referendum. It won’t be Nicola’s choice. It will be the grass roots’ choice.”


No Gerrymandering

Party leaders may come and go, but SNP members can rely on one thing at conference – the stage invasions of the pensioner Gerry Fisher. A legendary dissenter, Fisher refused this year to play along with the party’s embrace of the EU. Clutching the
lectern stubbornly, he told members: “Don’t tell me that you can be independent and a member of the EU. It’s factually rubbish.” In the press room, where conference proceedings were shown unrelentingly on a big screen, hacks stopped what they were doing to cheer him on.


Back to black

No SNP conference would be complete without a glimpse of Mhairi Black, the straight-talking slayer of Douglas Alexander and Westminster’s Baby of the House. She is a celebrity among my millennial friends – a video of her maiden Commons speech has been watched more than 700,000 times – and her relative silence in recent months is making them anxious.

I was determined to track her down, so I set my alarm for an unearthly hour and joined a queue of middle-aged women at an early-morning fringe event. The SNP has taken up the cause of the Waspi (Women Against State Pension Inequality) campaign, run by a group of women born in the 1950s whose retirement age has been delayed and are demanding compensation. Black, who is 22, has become their most ­articulate spokeswoman.

The event started but her chair remained unfilled. When she did arrive, halfway through the session, it was straight from the airport. She gave a rip-roaring speech that momentarily convinced even Waspi sceptics like me, and then dashed off to her next appointment.


Family stories

Woven through the SNP conference was an argument about the benefits of immigration (currently controlled by Westminster). This culminated in an appearance by the Brain family, whose attempt to resist deportation back to Australia has made them a national cause célèbre. (Their young son has learned to speak Gaelic.) Yet for me, the most emotional moment of the conference was when another family, the Chhokars, stepped on stage. Surjit Singh Chhokar was murdered in 1998, but it took 17 years of campaigning and a change in double jeopardy laws before his killer could be brought to justice.

As Aamer Anwar, the family’s solicitor, told the story of “Scotland’s Stephen Lawrence”, Chhokar’s mother and sister stood listening silently, still stricken with grief. After he finished, the delegates gave the family a standing ovation.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, the New Statesman’s politics blog

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines. 

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