Budget makes Frydenberg an unwitting Keynesian stimulator

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg doesn’t want anyone saying the budget he unveiled this week involves applying some “fiscal stimulus” to get the economy moving faster. He’d prefer to say his budget is “pro-growth”.

But what is fiscal stimulus? And does that label apply to this year’s budget? Only if you’re prepared to be called a “Keynesian” economist. Which Frydenberg isn’t.

Why not? Because in the hard right circles in which many Liberals move, the name of John Maynard Keynes (rhymes with Brains) has become a swearword. (That’s because their penchant for dividing people into political friends and foes exceeds their understanding of economics.)

The K-word isn’t one used a lot by the Reserve Bank. My guess is it would be quite pleased with what Frydenberg has done in coming up with his own version of what, when Kevin Rudd did it after the global financial crisis in 2008, was dubbed a “cash splash”.

But the Reserve would limit itself to saying Frydenberg has made the budget “less contractionary” than it would have been.

The “fiscal” in fiscal stimulus is just a flash word for anything to do with the budget. The managers of the macro economy often do things intended to stimulate it to grow faster, create more jobs and make us more prosperous.

In last year’s budget, Scott Morrison introduced a new “low and middle income tax offset” (known to aficionados as the lamington) worth $530 a year, to be received by workers earning between $48,000 and $90,000 a year, with those on lower or higher incomes getting lesser amounts, starting from last July.

The offset was equivalent to about $10 a week but, because it’s a “tax offset”, they don’t get it until they’ve submitted their annual tax return at the end of the financial year and received their tax refund cheque. That cheque (these days actually a transfer to their bank account) will include the offset.

So workers should receive their first offset payment as a lump sum sometime in the September quarter of this year.

But this week the government decided to increase the amount of the offset by $550 and to backdate it to last July. So about 4.5 million taxpayers will be given a cash grant of $1080 in a few months’ time. When they spend that money, it should give the economy a kick along.

First point to understand, however, is that though the motive for the policy changes politicians announce in budgets is usually political – they just want to buy our votes, for instance - that doesn’t stop those measures having an effect on the economy.

Economists ignore the political motivations and focus on the likely economic effects.

Second point, while it’s easy to see that something as sexy as a tax cut could, when it’s spent, add to economic activity, that’s just as true of the government's spending to build new infrastructure, or add new medicines to the pharmaceutical benefits scheme, or spend more on education.

So what will stimulate the economy is all the new programs the government decides to spend on, less any cuts in government spending or new tax increases it makes.

The budget papers show that, since the midyear budget update in December, the government’s decisions to change tax and spending programs total $5.7 billion, spread over the present financial year and the coming year.

That total stimulus is equivalent to about 0.3 per cent of gross domestic product – meaning that, despite all the excitement, it’s not exactly huge.

Third point, while most people see immediately that the things governments do with their budgets affect the economy, it takes them longer to realise that, particularly because the economy (GDP) is about four times bigger than the budget, the things the economy does also affect the budget.

That is, there’s a two-way relationship between the budget and the economy.

As the economy grows during the upswing of the business cycle, this should improve the budget balance, as the progressivity of the income tax scale (aka bracket creep) causes income tax collections to grow faster than income itself, and government spending on dole payments falls as more people find jobs.

Alternatively, as the economy slows during the downswing of the business cycle, tax collections also slow down and dole payments grow as people lose their jobs.

Keynesian economists refer to this source of improvement or deterioration in the budget balance as the “cyclical” component.

In contrast, they refer to the improvement or deterioration in the budget balance caused by the explicit decisions of the government to change taxes and government spending as the “structural” component.

Keynesians judge the “stance of policy” adopted in the budget by the change in this structural component. And, as we’ve seen, they’d judge the stance this year to be mildly stimulatory.

The Reserve – which needs to know what effect changes in the budget are having on the strength of demand in the economy so it can decide what it needs to do about interest rates – makes no distinction between the cyclical and structural components of the budget balance.

It simply looks at the direction and size of the expected change in the overall budget balance, which it calls the “fiscal impact”.

As well as seeing that the balance was expected to swing from deficit to surplus, it would note from the budget papers that, since the midyear budget update in December, tax collections and spending underruns were expected to improve the budget balance by $9.7 billion over the present and coming financial years.

In other words, the budget was now expected to take a further $9.7 billion more out of the economy than it put back in. Such a fiscal impact would be contractionary, not stimulatory.

But Frydenberg’s new spending and tax cut, costing $5.7 billion, will make the budget a bit less contractionary than it could have been. Good.

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Budget does the right thing for the wrong reason

Set aside the politics, focus on the economy's immediate needs, and this is a good budget – though, with less politics and more economics, it could have been better.

Viewed through a political lens, this is the classic budget of a government that knows it has only a slim chance of winning the looming election but also knows it has little to lose by abandoning its stated policies and promising more government spending and yet more tax cuts.

Add an economic perspective, however, and it's a budget that does the right thing for the wrong reason.

The Coalition won office almost six years ago promising to make eliminating "Labor's debt and deficit" its highest priority.

It's taken all this time to get to the point of being able to budget for a surplus next financial year, during which time the debt has doubled.

The rules it set itself said there were to be no tax cuts until the surplus was much higher than the one it's expecting. Any unexpected improvement in tax collections should be "banked" not spent. Only by running the biggest surpluses possible could the debt be paid off quickly.

All that is now out the window. But, whatever the government's ulterior motive, that's a good thing.

Why? Because, despite the decade that's passed since the global financial crisis – and the Treasurer's repetition of the mantra "a stronger economy" – the economy is still surprisingly weak. A year ago, it looked like it might be moving into top gear, but since then we have seen it fall back to grinding along in second.

That being so, now is not the time to have the budget taking a lot more money out of the economy than it's putting back in.

Although employment has been growing more strongly than you would expect, the economy's growth has remained below-par. It's being held back mainly by weak consumer spending, which is weak mainly because wages aren't increasing much – a phenomenon both sides of politics prefer to call "cost of living pressures".

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg predicts that wages will grow by 2.75 per cent in the coming financial year and by 3.25 per cent the following year. That's likely to prove over-optimistic, as such forecasts have been throughout the Coalition's term.

The tax cuts he is promising are a poor substitute for a decent pay rise, but they will help consumers keep spending and turning the wheels of the economy.

People earning between $925 and $1730 a week will get a tax cut equivalent to about $20 a week, backdated to July last year. But it will come in the form of an annual tax refund cheque after submitting their return in a few months time, that is $1080 higher than otherwise.

People earning less that $925 a week, or more than $1730 a week, will get much lower refunds.

Likewise, the one-off cash grants to pensioners are a poor substitute for a lasting solution to the problems in the electricity market, but they're better than nothing.

And the planned big increase in the government's spending on infrastructure will also help.

One little-noticed reason for us to be less impatient to pay off government debt is that the interest rate on long-term government bonds has fallen below 2 per cent. That's less than the rate of inflation.

The problem with Frydenberg's tax cuts is that though he keeps saying (and the media dutifully keep repeating) they are aimed at "low and middle income-earners", in truth, most of the money will go to people whose incomes are way above the middle.

By far the most expensive change to last year's seven-year tax cut plan – the change that does most to double the cost of the cuts to a staggering $302 billion over 10 years – is the decision to cut the middle tax rate from 32.5¢ in every dollar to 30¢ from July 2024.

The consequent saving will range from zero for those earning less than $925 a week to $75 a week for those earning $3845 a week and above.

These top earners don't have a pressing problem with the cost of living and are likely to save rather than recirculate a lot of their tax cut.

Had Frydenberg done more to direct his generosity to the really hard-pressed – including the unemployed, living it up on $40 a day – it would all have gone straight to retailers, big and small.

But the size and shape of the tax cuts we'll end up with are far from decided. The bidding war between the parties isn't over.

When the government announced the first stage of its tax cuts last year, it took Labor two days to up the ante by 75 per cent. The Treasurer has now doubled the government's original offer. In two days' time we will hear if Bill Shorten intends to see Frydenberg – or raise him.

The difference between the two sides is that whereas the Coalition's tax cuts come at the expense of slower progress in paying off the debt, Labor's plans involve cutting tax breaks in a way that takes from high-saving, higher income-earners and gives to low-saving, lower income-earners.

With an election coming in six weeks, you choose.

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The budget's getting better, but the economy's getting worse

Why would a government that boasts of its superior economic management be entering an election campaign with a budget warning of harder economic times ahead? Because it has no choice.

It will turn this admission of a bleaker economic outlook – with a slowdown in the global economy and, domestically, the risk that falling house prices could further weaken consumer spending – into a warning that now is just the wrong time to turn the economy over to those bunglers in the Labor Party, but this will be making the best of a bad deal.

There’s nothing new about a big give-away pre-election budget, but the budget we’ll see on Tuesday night will be different in several respects. For one thing, it’s not often you get a full budget that’s timed to be the kick-off of a six-week election campaign.

It will be more like an election policy speech than a budget, since none of its measures will have been legislated, let alone put into effect. Unless the Coalition wins, it’s a budget we’ll never hear of again.

For another thing, it’s reasonable to expect that strong economies and strong budgets go together, as do weak economies and weak budgets. The state of economy determines the state of the budget balance.

Not this time. As Deloitte Access Economics’ Chris Richardson has observed, “the economy is getting worse, but the budget is getting better”. Let’s start with the budget.

Politically, this budget is built on a fiction: that its centrepiece, a further round of tax cuts (and possibly one-off cash grants to pensioners) on top of last year’s three-stage, seven-year tax cuts costing $144 billion over 10 years, is the fruit of the government’s success in returning the budget to surplus, not a sign of its political desperation.

In truth, the government’s budgetary record is hardly anything to boast about, particularly when you remember the confident promises it made while in opposition about how quickly and easily it could eliminate “debt and deficit”.

The deficit may be gone, but there's still a lot of debt - which the Coalition seems in no hurry to pay back.

We know the government will budget for a decent surplus in the coming financial year, but it’s so close to balance in the present year that it would take only minor creative accounting to produce a “surprise” surplus a year earlier than promised.

When you remember how close to balance Labor’s Wayne Swan got in 2012-13, however, it’s surprising it’s taken the Coalition all of two terms to get us to where we now are.

You can blame this on lack of political will, but it’s now more apparent than it has been that the delay is a product of the economy’s slowness to recover from the Great Recession we supposedly didn’t have.

Even since Swan’s day, the econocrats – including the Reserve Bank – have each year been forecasting an early return to strong economic growth and a greatly improved budget balance.

And, each year, their forecasts have proved way too optimistic, particularly for a return to strong wage growth. A return to economic business as usual has repeatedly eluded us.

It’s not the econocrats’ fault, it’s the slowness of all of us to realise that the “secular stagnation” that’s dogged the United States and the other advanced economies is also dogging us. But with the economy’s unexpected slowing to growth of just 2.3 per cent over 2018 – or 0.7 per cent when you subtract population growth – it’s now a lot harder not to realise.

Few remember that Tony Abbott’s ill-fated first budget in 2014 was carefully designed to do little to reduce the budget deficit for the first three years because the economy was still too weak withstand a move to contractionary fiscal policy.

The surprising fact is, little has changed in all the years since then. This is the macro-economic justification for Tuesday’s purely politically motivated announcement of further tax cuts. The economy’s still too weak to withstand contractionary fiscal policy as the budget heads into surplusland.

But, in that case, how have we finally got back to surplus? Partly, through surprisingly limited real growth in government spending. But, mainly, through years of bracket creep, the exhaustion of companies’ prior tax losses, more effective anti-avoidance measures and, above all, the good luck of a (probably temporary) recovery in coal and iron ore prices and, thus, mining company profits.

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg will be hoping to convince us the budget improvement is lasting, but the weak economy is temporary. It’s more likely to be the other way round.

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If only the Indigenous had the worries of the well-off aged

One thing I hate about elections is the way politicians on both sides seek to advance their careers by appealing to our own self-centredness. I suppose when they know how little we respect them for their principles, they think bribing us is all that’s left.

The federal election campaign hasn’t started officially, but already the one issue to arouse any passion is the spectacle of the most well-off among our retired screaming to high heaven over the proposal that, though granted the concession of paying no tax on income from superannuation, they should no longer receive tax refunds as though they were paying it.

We teach our children to respect the needs and feelings of others, and to take turns with their toys, but when it comes to politics you just get in there and fight for as much lolly as you can grab. And if my voice is louder and elbows sharper than yours, tough luck.

When someone at one of those rallies of the righteous retired had the bad manners to suggest that the saving would be used to increase spending on health and education (and increase the tax cut going to those middle-income families still required to pay tax on their incomes) they were howled down. Health and education? Don’t ask me to pay.

You gave me this unbelievably good tax deal, I paid the experts to rearrange my share portfolio so as to fully exploit it, and now you tell me you’ve discovered you can’t afford it and other people’s needs take priority. It so unfair.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the income spectrum, Scott Morrison delivered a Closing the Gap report to Parliament last Thursday. It was the 11th report since the practice began, following Kevin Rudd’s National Apology in 2008.

Morrison was the fifth prime minister to have delivered the report. The fifth obliged to admit how little progress has been made in achieving the seven targets we set ourselves.

The original targets were to halve the gap in child mortality by 2018, to have 95 per cent of all Indigenous four-year-olds enrolled in early childhood education by 2025, to close the gap in school attendance by 2018, to halve the gap in reading and numeracy by 2018, to halve the gap in year 12 attainment by 2020, to halve the gap in employment by 2018, and to close the gap in life expectancy by 2031.

As you see, four of the seven targets expired last year. None of them was achieved. They’re being replaced by updated – and more realistic – targets.

In his progress report, Morrison was able to say only that two out of the seven targets were on track to be met.

The first of these is the goal of having 95 per cent of Indigenous children in early childhood education by 2025. This was achieved in the latest figures, for 2017, with NSW, Victoria, South Australia, Western Australia and the ACT now at 95 per cent or more.

The other is halving the gap in year 12 attainment by 2020. Morrison says this is the area of biggest improvement, with the Indigenous proportion jumping by 18 percentage points since 2006.

With the key target of life expectancy, the figures show some improvement for Indigenous people from birth, but associate professor Nicholas Biddle, of the Centre for Aboriginal Economic Policy Research at the Australian National University, warns that the figures are dodgy.

So why have we been doing so badly? Biddle and a colleague argue that the original targets were so ambitious they couldn’t have been achieved without radically different policies, not the business-as-usual policies that transpired.

That’s one way to put it. It’s common for politicians to announce grand targets that make a splash on the day, without wondering too hard about how or whether their successors will achieve them. And no one was more prone to such “hubris” (Morrison’s word) than Kevin07.

A second reason, they say, is that successive governments’ policy actions haven’t always matched their stated policy goals. Their employment target, for instance, hasn’t been helped by the present government’s abolition of its key Indigenous job creation program, the community development employment project.

Then there’s the present government’s soft-target approach to limiting the growth in government spending, which has involved repeated cuts to the Indigenous affairs budget, particularly in Tony Abbott’s first budget.

The most significant Indigenous policy initiative in ages, the Northern Territory Intervention – which preceded Closing the Gap, but has been continued by governments of both colours – may have directly widened health and school attendance gaps.

As well as disempowering Aboriginal people in the territory, the immense amount of money and policy attention devoted to the Intervention “could have been better spent elsewhere”.

Third, they say, measures intended to achieve the targets have rarely been subject to careful evaluation and adjustment.

Morrison professes to have learnt these lessons. But, the authors say, if his “refreshed” approach “does not put resources – and the power to direct them – into Indigenous hands, the prospects for closing socio-economic gaps are likely to remain distant”.

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How canny treasurers keep the tax we pay out of sight

We can be sure that tax and tax “reform” will be a big topic (yet again) this year, but what will get less attention is how behavioural economics explains the shape of the existing tax system and makes it hard to change.

I read that this year we may attain the economists’ Holy Grail of replacing state conveyancing duty with a broad-based annual tax on the unimproved value of land under people’s principal residence.

Economists regard taxing homes whenever they change hands as highly economically inefficient because it discourages people from moving when they need to move, whereas taxing the ownership of land as highly efficient because it’s hard to avoid and is naturally “progressive”, hitting the rich harder than the poor.

Holy grails are, however, wondrous things, but almost impossible to attain. Economists have been preaching the virtues of such a switch for at least the past 30 years, with precious few converts (bar, in recent times, the ACT government).

Why have state politicians been so unreceptive to such a patently good idea? Because politicians instinctively understand what most conventional economists don’t: the wisdom of Louis XIV’s finance minister’s declaration that “the art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest possible amount of feathers with the smallest possible amount of hissing”.

Or, to put it another way, because conventional economists don’t know enough behavioural economics – the study of how the world actually works thanks to human fallibility, rather than how it would work if we were all as rational as economic textbooks assume us to be.

A central element of the political economy of taxation is that what the punters don’t notice they don’t worry about.

And to every revenue-hungry state treasurer (which is all of ’em), the great virtue of conveyancing duty is that when you’re buying a place for $1 million and someone presents you with a tax bill for $40,000, it looks a relatively small amount and the least of your worries right now.

By contrast, when you open your mail one day and find the government demanding to be paid, say, $5000, you tend to get resentful. Because we’ve spent all our lives in a market economy, we’re used to the notion that, if you want something, you have to pay for it.

And with the converse: you don’t shell out good money without getting something you want in return. Annual land tax breaches that rule: you write a cheque for five grand and just post it off into the void. (This was also part of the reason the old “provisional tax” was so unpopular.)

Behavioural economists demonstrate empirically what politically astute treasurers know instinctively: you greatly reduce the hissing if you can whip the tax away without it being seen. This is why, when introducing the goods and services tax, Peter Costello wrote into the act the requirement that retail prices be quoted inclusive of the tax, without the tax being shown separately.

Of course, for wage earners, personal income tax has worked that way for decades. The pay office extracts an estimate of the tax you’ll have to pay and sends it to the taxman before you even see your pay.

After a while, you pretty much forget you’re paying tax on much of what you buy and are being paid much less than you’re earning. Which also demonstrates the wisdom of a saying familiar to treasurers: a new tax is a bad tax; an old tax is a good tax.

We object loudly to almost all proposals for new taxes – land tax on the family home, a road congestion tax and many more. We spent 25 years working up the courage to impose a value-added tax on “almost everything we buy” (during which time we copied the Kiwis’ crafty idea of renaming it the more innocuous “goods and services tax”).

But here’s the trick: once the new tax has been passed and taken effect, it takes only a year or two for us to accept it as part of the furniture. Behavioural economists call this quirk of human nature “status-quo bias”.

And, of course, just about the oldest tax of all is what Malcolm Fraser used to call “the secret tax of inflation” aka bracket creep.

It’s the tax increase you have when you don’t like tax increases.

Our “revealed preference” (not what we say, but what we do) is that bracket creep's our favourite tax.

Which is why treasurers of both colours give us so much of it.

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The truth behind the mid-year budget update

Wow. Under Scott Morrison’s inspired leadership, the budget is almost back to surplus and the economy is ticking over nicely. And having brought home the bacon, Santa ScoMo can deliver our reward, scattering little presents from now until the election.

It’s a lovely thought, but the truth is less heroic. An old saying would assess the position outlined in the midyear budget update as: good things come to those who wait. Or, franker: better late than never.

To be boasting about how much better the budget balance is looking is a bit rich, coming from a government that, five long years ago, talked its way into government by claiming we faced a "budget emergency" of debt and deficit that only the Liberals could fix because they had good economic management in their DNA.

After the disastrous political reception to its first budget in 2014, the government made no further serious attempt to reduce the budget deficit, instead quietly resolving to wait until the passage of time caused the economy to strengthen and tax collections to recover.

That’s where it finds itself now. Tax collections have strengthened in the past year or so because heavy infrastructure spending by the state governments and the rollout of the national disability insurance scheme have boosted employment and the number of people paying income tax.

As well, company tax collections are stronger because export prices have recovered a bit, businesses have finally used up their deductions from accumulated losses incurred during the downturn, and because the crackdown on multinational tax avoidance initiated by the previous government is paying off.

Even so, the government’s net public debt has doubled from the $175 billion it inherited in September 2013 to $355 billion this October.

Initially, the government resolved not to cut taxes until the budget was back to significant surplus. Malcolm Turnbull ditched that in his first budget and the government has proposed tax cuts in every budget since.

Had it held the line it could have been back to actual (rather than foreshadowed) surplus today. And it could have shown us a net debt that had already fallen a little, rather than telling us its projections see the debt peaking in June next year.

The first politician to show us a projected return to surplus in the next few years was Julia Gillard in 2010. Since then, the Coalition has had to revise down its own projections countless times. We’ve learnt the hard way not to believe any budget number that’s not an "actual".

The Coalition’s budgetary performance has been ordinary in all respects bar one: over the five years to June 2017, it limited the average real growth in its spending to 1.5 per cent a year.

Very few governments can better that restraint – certainly not the previous Labor government which, despite all the dodgy figures Wayne Swan showed us at the time, ended up with real spending growth averaging 5 per cent a year.

As for Morrison’s claims about how well the economy’s doing, Josh Frydenberg has had to revise down the budget’s forecasts for growth in wages and the economy.

With luck the economy will keep growing reasonably strongly in the coming year or two, but only if it negotiates the housing downturn without mishap and only if wages return to reasonable growth.

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Want a more capable nation? Start younger

The older I get, the more unimpressed I become with both sides – all sides – of politics. And the more disdainful I become of people who let loyalty to a particular party determine their support or opposition to particular policies. Don’t think for yourself, just follow your herd of choice.

On the other hand, since I do care about policy, I shouldn’t be slow to give a tick to whatever side is first to come up with a good one. So, two cheers for Bill Shorten for promising to extend universal access to preschool to three-year-olds.

The Coalition government and its predecessors, together with the state governments, have done a good job of ensuring almost all four-year-olds are now attending preschool for the equivalent of two days a week during the school year (though, for reasons I can’t fathom, the feds have insisted on guaranteeing funding for only a year at a time).

Trouble is, getting four-year-olds to preschool takes us only halfway to catching up with most other advanced economies, even New Zealand. So, with any luck, Scott Morrison won’t be too proud to match Labor’s promise to extend it to three-year-olds.

Why is an economics writer getting so excited about preschools? Because I can’t think of any other single initiative more likely to benefit us socially and economically.

And to do so at a relatively modest cost to taxpayers – particularly when you remember that the kids you help most will end up working more and paying more tax, while costing the government less in welfare benefits and accommodation courtesy of Her Maj.

For anyone who’s been living under a rock for the past 25 years, perhaps the most important and useful scientific discovery of our times is that the human brain develops rapidly in the first five years of life, and both the nurturing and the intellectual stimulation a child receives in that time has huge influence over their wellbeing during their lives.

An independent report prepared last year for state and territory governments by Susan Pascoe, of the Australian Council for International Development, and Professor Deborah Brennan, of the University of NSW, found “extensive and consistent” research evidence of the benefits of quality early childhood education.

The years before school are “the period when children learn to communicate, get along with others and control and adapt their behaviour, emotions and thinking".

“These skills and behaviours establish the foundations for future skills and success. They are provided in most, but not all, homes”, the report says.

Quality early childhood education gives all children the best chance of establishing these capabilities. Without these foundations in place, children often struggle at school, and then often go on to become adults who struggle in life, it says.

This is why the measured benefits of early education are greatest for vulnerable or disadvantaged children, including Indigenous children. “Support for these children is vital – children who start school behind their peers stay behind. Quality early childhood education can help stop this from happening, and break the cycle of disadvantage,” the report says.

It finds that quality early childhood education makes a significant contribution to achieving educational excellence in schools. There’s growing evidence that participation in early education improves school readiness and lifts NAPLAN results and scores in international tests.

“Children who participate in high-quality early childhood education are more likely to complete year 12 and less likely to repeat grades or require additional support."

It also has broader impacts: it’s linked with higher levels of employment, income and financial security, improved health outcomes and reduced crime. It helps build the skills children will need for the jobs of the future.

These days, childcare and early childhood education overlap, which explains why childcare is now called ECEC – early childhood education and care. Ordinary childcare for the under-threes now involves a higher proportion of TAFE-trained early childhood educators.

The two years of preschool we’re considering would occur in a range of settings: long daycare centres, community preschools and kindies, and schools. For parents with children already in care, 15 hours a week would be funded by the government, cutting costs to families.

But all this talk of “education” doesn’t mean hothousing young minds. As Professor Alison Elliott, of Central Queensland University, explains, learning is “play-based” – meaning children learn through play, both self-directed (“free play”) and guided by a trained adult following the official “early years learning framework”.

Preschool gives children access to a four-year degree-qualified early childhood teacher. Elliott notes that one problem in expanding preschool to three-year-olds is the present extreme shortage of early childhood teachers and educators.

But for those who’ve wondered “where will the jobs come from?” – especially after the robots arrive – what’s a problem for some is an opportunity for others. Such skilled jobs are likely to be full-time and permanent; they won’t be in the “gig economy”.

And those jobs will be created by bigger government – greater provision or subsidisation of public services, paid for by our higher taxes. In this and other areas, government will be a key source of additional employment.

Pascoe and Brennan point out that the linking of childcare and early childhood education allows governments to deliver us a “double dividend”: if they do it right, they can subsidise childcare to encourage parents’ participation in the paid workforce, while also promoting children’s wellbeing, learning and development. Sounds good to me.

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Frydenberg must lift Treasury’s game on spending control

I read that our new Treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, has already understood the chief requirement of his office: the ability to say no to ministerial colleagues wanting to spend more on 101 worthy projects.

Sorry, Josh, but if you’re hoping to be a successful treasurer in the years beyond the coming election, you – and your Treasury minions - will need to do much better than that.

It takes strength, but zero brain power, to say no to everything in the belief that, though a fair bit will get through, enough won’t to keep the budget on track for the ever-growing surpluses projected from 2019-20 onwards.

As we’re reminded by the Parliamentary Budget Office’s report on those projections out to 2028-29, the Abbott-Turnbull government has done a good job in restraining the growth in its spending so far.

Whereas in the 14 years to 2006-07 the Keating and Howard governments racked up real spending growth averaging 3.2 per cent a year, in this government’s term real spending growth so far has averaged just 1.5 per cent a year.

Trouble is, it’s hard to see any government maintaining such an extraordinary degree of restraint – repression? – for many years to come. That’s particularly likely to be so once the budget’s back in surplus and the net public debt is falling.

(A tell-tale sign of the been-there-done-that syndrome is Scott Morrison “doing a Swanny”: portraying the forecast return to tiny surplus by June 2020 as already in the bag.)

After such a period of discipline, the pressure to let out the budgetary stays will be huge. Yet the forward estimates for the four years to 2021-22 imply real spending growth averaging just 1.8 per cent.

This is composed mainly of increases in spending on the national disability insurance scheme of more than 0.6 percentage points of gross domestic product, more than 0.1 points for defence and almost 0.1 points for aged care, offset by falls of about 0.2 points each for road and rail infrastructure, pharmaceutical benefits, and the family tax benefit, and falls of about 0.1 points each for the disability support pension, veterans and public debt interest payments, plus a fall of 0.3 points for administrative costs.

The projected increases are easier to believe than the projected falls. Those for spending on infrastructure and pharmaceutical benefits are creative accounting. The tougher criteria for the disability pension won’t withstand the rise in the age pension age to 67, nor any economic downturn.

And, of course, the huge saving in public administrative spending assumes that after more than a decade of annual cuts to staffing costs, the “efficiency dividend” can roll for another four years without any noticeable loss of efficiency.

The Coalition’s rule that ministers proposing new spending programs must also propose equivalent savings from within their portfolio seems to do most to explain the low real growth in spending overall.

But this, too, is a discipline that will be ever-harder to sustain for a further decade. The way Morrison is dishing out dollars to fix political pressure points, it’s likely to take a beating just between now and the election.

What worries me is the way Treasury and Finance’s approach to spending control is so old-school, so blunt-instrument, so hand-to-mouth, so no-brainer.

Just Say No. Just tell every department to find savings, and cut their admin costs by yet another 2.5 per cent, then look the other way while they make short-term savings at the expense of our future.

Treasury and Finance see spending control as an act of being tough and unreasoning and opportunist, not one involving any science or learning or expertise.

It’s as though, stuck on a sheep run in the middle of NSW, obsessing about macro-economic management, they’ve been oblivious to the advances in spending control techniques made by applied micro-economists at universities around Australia.

There’s the campaign of Dr Richard Tooth (from a consulting firm) for price signals to encourage better driving, there’s Professor Bruce Chapman’s invention of the income-contingent loan which, as Professor Linda Botterill keeps saying, could be applied to drought loans and much else.

There’s all the work health economists put into the developing case-mix funding of hospitals, and the unending stream of smart suggestions coming from the nation’s leading health economist, Dr Stephen Duckett, of the Grattan Institute.

Then there’s former professor Andrew Leigh’s championing of using randomised control trials to discover what spending works and what doesn’t, there’s more rigorous and transparent use of benefit-cost analysis to evaluate infrastructure projects, there’s greater use of “behavioural insights” teams, there’s more emphasis on preventive medicine and there’s exploiting the long-term budgetary savings offered by greater investment in early childhood development.

Now, many of these advances have been taken up, at least in some modest way. But, to my knowledge, because they’ve been pushed by other people, not because Treasury and Finance have shown much interest. They’re asleep at the wheel.

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Budget office fills vacuum left by politicised Treasury

I see the federal Auditor-General has been less than complimentary about the Turnbull government’s cashless welfare card. The cheek! I say the man should be removed and replaced by a Liberal Party staffer forthwith.

Always provided the staffer has done at least a year or two of accounting at uni, of course. Wouldn’t do for voters to gain the impression his chief qualifications were his years of loyal service as a ministerial flunky.

If this ironic scenario seems over the top, it’s not way over. If the present Auditor-General actually had incurred the government’s serious displeasure, it would be more likely to wait until his statutory term had expired before replacing him with someone less likely to provide it – and us – with critical advice.

You don’t have to be very long in the workforce to realise that one of the hallmarks of a bad manager is his (or occasionally her) penchant for surrounding themselves with yes-men. See that happening and you know you’re in the presence of a disaster waiting to happen.

But installing a tame auditor-general wouldn’t be a big step beyond the flouting of convention and good governance we’ve seen the government engaged in over the past two weeks.

Following Tony Abbott’s unprecedented dismissal of the secretary to the Treasury in 2013, and his replacement with hand-picked candidate John Fraser, Malcolm Turnbull and Scott Morrison have now completed the politicisation of Treasury.

What an accomplishment for Malcolm to include when he boasts in his memoirs about the glorious achievements of his reign.

With the sudden resignation of Fraser, he was replaced by Philip Gaetjens, whose service as chief-of-staff to Peter Costello and then Morrison himself was interspersed with his time as secretary of the NSW Treasury, appointed by the O’Farrell government after it sacked the apolitical secretary it inherited from the Keneally government, Michael Schur.

The timing of Fraser’s departure was portrayed as all his own inconvenient idea, which may well be true. But, with the federal election so close, it reminds me of a trick practised by the self-perpetuating boards of the mutual insurance companies of old.

Any director not wishing to serve another term would resign just a few months before his term expired. This would allow the board to select his successor, and that successor’s name to go onto the ballot paper with an asterisk beside it, certifying to the voting punters that he was a tried-and-true incumbent.

Morrison then topped off this innovation in Jobs for the Boys by installing Simon Atkinson, a former chief-of-staff to Finance Minister Mathias Cormann, as a deputy secretary in Treasury.

Worse, Atkinson got the job to replace Michael Brennan, who’s been moved up to be the new chairman of the Productivity Commission, which has had a long and proud tradition of independence, giving fearless advice to governments of both colours.

We’ll see how long that lasts. Morrison tacitly admitted Brennan’s appointment was questionable by using his press release to make Brennan sound like a career public servant, conspicuously failing to mention he’d been a staffer for two Howard government ministers and a Liberal Victorian treasurer, not to mention a candidate for Liberal state preselection.

My greatest fear is that the next Labor federal government will use this bad precedent to behave the same way, thus making the politicisation of government departments and supposedly independent agencies bipartisan policy. What a great step forward that would be.

Fortunately, as trust in the professional integrity of Treasury forecasts and assessments declines, the vacuum is being filled by the rise of the Parliamentary Budget Office, which has the same expertise as Treasury, Finance and the spending departments, but is independent of the elected government.

Just last week it produced a most revealing report on the sustainability of federal taxes, one Treasury would have had trouble getting published even in the good old days.

Its message is that there are structural vulnerabilities limiting the future revenue-raising potential of most federal taxes, with the main exception being income tax and that eternal standby of dissembling politicians on both sides, the supposed evil they only pretend to disapprove of: bracket creep.

This is the last thing either side would want us thinking about before the election.

After all, thanks to the budget’s chronically overoptimistic forecasts and what-could-possibly-go-wrong 10-year projections of endless budget surpluses and ever-falling public debt, they can afford to turn the coming election into a tax-cut bidding war.

Vote for me and I’ll cut taxes more than the other guy.

The budget office has punctured that happy fantasy. After the election, whomever we vote for will have to find a way to cover not just the cost of ever-growing but untouchable spending on health, education and all the rest, but also the tax system’s built-in inadequacies.

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How governments shift income from rich to poor

Everyone knows the gap between high and low incomes has grown. But much of what we think we know about why it’s happened, and what the government has been doing about it, is probably wrong.

For instance, many people imagine that the main thing governments do to reduce the gap between rich and poor is to raise much of their revenue via the most “progressive” tax in their arsenal, income tax. (A progressive tax takes a progressively higher proportion of tax from people’s income as incomes get higher.)

Sorry, that impression’s wrong.

Another strongly held perception is that, if the gap between high and low-income people is growing, it must be because of something the government is doing. For instance, stages two and three of the Turnbull government’s three-stage, seven-year tax plan are intended to make income tax significantly less progressive.

Sorry, it’s only partly true that growing inequality is caused by government policy.

Yet another misperception is that the inequality of incomes increases as each year passes.

These misunderstandings are what’s so great about the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ publication last month of its six-yearly “fiscal incidence study”, for 2015-16. It’s the most comprehensive guide to what’s been happening to income inequality and, in particular, how it’s been affected by government policies.

Professor Peter Whiteford, of the Australian National University, has written an excellent summary of the study’s findings.

The study allocates the federal and state taxes we pay between the nation’s eight million households, then allocates federal and state government spending to those households. (Some taxes, such as company tax, it can’t attribute to households. Nor some classes of government spending, such as spending on defence and law and order. But these omissions should roughly cancel out.)

So, on one hand, the study takes account not just of income tax, but also all the other, federal and state “indirect” taxes, most of which are “regressive” – they take a higher proportion of low incomes than high ones.

On the other hand, it takes account not just of government benefits in cash (pensions, the dole, family allowance), but also in kind - particularly healthcare (subsidised doctors and pharmaceuticals, free public hospitals, subsidised private insurance), subsidised aged care and childcare, plus pre-school, school, technical and university education.

So it starts with households’ “private income” – the money people earn from wages, profits, investments and superannuation payments – then subtracts the taxes they pay and adds the value of government benefits they receive in cash and kind to get their “final income”.

Get it? The difference between a household’s private income and its final income is the net monetary effect of all the things federal and state governments’ budgets do to the household’s budget.

It shows the extent to which government budgets redistribute income between high and low-income households.

Before we get to that, however, note that most economists believe the fundamental cause of rising inequality is changes in private incomes arising from globalisation and skill-biased technological change which, over many years, have caused the wages of high-skilled workers to grow much faster than those of low-skilled workers.

But the usual way to measure inequality is to compare not individual workers, but individual households, many of which contain two workers, plus dependent children.

It seems likely that, over the decades, the growing gap between high and low wages has been offset by the growing incidence of two-income families.

And note this: in more recent times – the six years between 2009-10 and 2015-16 - there’s been no increase in inequality.

Turning back to the effect of government budgets, the study shows they redistribute a lot more income than many people realise.

Get this: In 2015-16, the poorest 20 per cent of households (mainly pensioners) started with private income averaging just $168 week but, after taking account of their pensions and health and aged care benefits, their final income almost quintupled to $808 a week.

At the other end of the spectrum, the best-off 20 per cent of households (mainly two-income couples with good jobs) started with private income averaging $2863 a week, but had that cut to final income of $2168 a week, a loss of almost $700 a week.

How come? Well, on average they paid $714 a week in income tax and $178 in other taxes, but received just $16 in social security benefits and $192 in non-cash benefits, mainly school education.

Look now at the middle 20 per cent of households and, on average, their final income was only a little different from their private income because the taxes they paid were pretty much offset by the benefits in cash and kind (particularly education) they received.

See what’s happening? Government budgets are highly effective at transferring income from the top 40 per cent of households to the bottom 40 per cent.

And it’s not just progressive taxation that does this. Surprisingly, most of it’s done on the spending side of the budget.

The most common way of measuring inequality is the “gini coefficient”, where zero represents perfect equality between households and 100 represents one household getting all the income.

The study shows a quite high coefficient of 44.2 for private income being reduced to 24.9 for final income.

Now get this. Of this overall decline in inequality of 19.3 points, the progressive income tax scale explains only 4.5 points. And the regressive effect of other taxes reduces this by 0.8 points.

So the remaining 15.6 points of decline in inequality are explained by 8.1 points coming from governments’ cash social security payments, plus 7.5 points coming from the effect of governments’ benefits in kind, particularly health and aged care and education spending.

The first bit should be no surprise. As Whiteford reminds us, Australia’s system of social security payments is the most heavily means-tested in the world.

The big surprise is that our generally non-means-tested benefits-in-kind should do so much to reduce inequality.

My guess is that the high proportion of health and aged care benefits going to age pensioners does much to explain this.

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Sorry Scott, it's not clear the economy now has lift-off

It’s been the week of an economic miracle. Three months’ ago we were told the economy’s annual growth was a pathetic 2.4 per cent, but this week’s news is it’s now a very healthy 3.1 per cent. And wasn’t Treasurer Scott Morrison cock-a-hoop.

This is the vindication of everything he’s ever told us. It’s the proof the government’s plan for Jobs and Growth  is working a treat.

Last calendar year saw the strongest jobs growth on record, with more than 1000 jobs created on average every day.

Like a favourite footy team, Australia has “climbed back to the top of the global leaderboard”, growing faster than all seven of the biggest rich countries.

“Importantly,” he said, “today’s results validate our budget forecasts and confirm the strengthening economic outlook we presented in the budget just a few weeks ago.”

Sorry to rain on ScoMo’s parade, but each of those happy claims is misleading.

The national accounts for the March quarter, issued by the Australian Bureau of Statistics this week, showed that real gross domestic product grew by 1 per cent during the quarter and by 3.1 per cent over the year to March.

Trouble is, initial quarterly national accounts come in two kinds: “not as bad as they look” and “not as good as they look”. Three months’ ago they were the former and now they’re the latter.

For the past two years they’ve had an almost perfect pattern of implausibly weak one quarter and implausibly strong the next. The problem is that it’s almost impossible for the bureau to measure the economy’s growth from quarter to quarter with any accuracy.

This is why sensible people – which excludes the media, the financial markets and many macro-economists – take the bureau’s advice and focus on its “trend” (or smoothed) estimates.

Three months’ ago they showed annual growth of 2.6 per cent (since revised up to 2.7 per cent) and now they’re showing 2.8 per cent – which is probably as close to the truth as we’re likely to come.

What ScoMo says about employment growth in 2017 is perfectly true and genuinely impressive. About three-quarters of the extra 400,000 jobs created were full-time – one in the eye for those supposed experts who depress our youth by telling them the era of good jobs is over.

But 2017 is receding into history. And in the first four months of this year, the average rate of job creation has slowed from more than 1000 a day to nearer 600.

As for our economy growing faster than the bigger developed countries’ economies, it’s not hard when our population’s growing faster than theirs. Our population grew by 1.6 per cent over the year to March, which explains why growth of 3.1 per cent in the economy turned into growth of 1.5 per cent per person.

As for the latest figures validating the budget’s optimistic forecasts out to 2019-20 (let alone its power-of-positive-thinking projections out to 2028-29), that’s a big call.

The budget forecasts growth in real GDP in 2017-18 of 2.75 per cent. You may think growth of 3.1 per cent over the year to March puts achieving that forecast beyond doubt, but you’d be bamboozled by the different ways of measuring growth.

It’s 3.1 per cent “through the year” from March 2017 to March 2018, whereas the budget forecast is for a “year average” of 2.75 per cent (that is, the whole of 2017-18 compared with the whole of 2016-17).

By my figuring, and assuming no further revisions, real GDP will need to grow by another 1 per cent in the June quarter for the budget forecast to be reached – which is possible, but unlikely.

Similarly, the budget forecasts that the increase in the wage price index will quicken to 2.25 per cent through the year to June 2018. But the figures for the March quarter showed it treading water at 2.1 per cent.

Turning to the detail, about half the 1 per cent growth in real GDP came from a surge in the volume exports, though increased imports cut the contribution of net exports (exports minus imports) to 0.3 percentage points.

Trouble is, part of the surge was explained by a catch-up after production problems in the middle of last year, and part by a new natural gas export facility coming on line, suggesting exports are unlikely to continue growing so strongly.

Growth in public sector spending contributed 0.4 percentage points to the overall GDP growth in the March quarter, with strong public consumption spending (probably mainly the roll-out of the national disability insurance scheme) in the quarter, plus state government spending on transport infrastructure explaining the strength of public investment spending in earlier quarters.

New housing construction made a small contribution to growth in the quarter, but it’s clear the housing boom is waning and so is likely to make little further contribution.

Business investment spending made only a small contribution to quarterly growth, with a fall of 6 per cent in mining investment (and 16.4 per cent over the year) largely offsetting the 3.6 per cent growth (and 14 per cent over the year) in the much-bigger non-mining investment.

So business investment is slowly recovering from the end of the resources boom as we’ve long hoped it would, but the biggest worry in the accounts is the lack of good news on the single most important driver of GDP growth, consumer spending.

It grew by a reasonable 2.9 per cent over the year but, after strengthening in the December quarter, grew by a pathetic 0.3 per cent in the March quarter.

And that required a further fall in households’ rate of saving, from 2.3 per cent to 2.1 per cent of their disposable income, with that rate down from a peak of 10 per cent after the global financial crisis in 2008.

With household debt already so high, not many families will want to borrow more to boost their consumption. And the falls in Sydney and Melbourne house prices mean no encouragement to consume from the "wealth effect" - the higher value of my home means I can afford to spend.

The big problem is the absence of real growth in wages to drive consumer spending. It may or may not come.

Apart from ScoMo’s boundless optimism, there’s no certainty we’ve now achieved lift-off.

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Turnbull changes tune for a lower-taxes election

Q: When is a move to increase tax collections not a move to increase taxes? A: When it’s an “integrity” measure.

The overwhelming purpose of this year’s budget has been to portray the Turnbull government as committed to lower taxes – not like those appalling Labor Party people, who want to whack up taxes everywhere.

Hence Scott Morrison’s seven-year plan to cut personal income tax at a cumulative cost of $144 billion over 10 years.

The government’s determination to push on with cutting the rate of company tax for big business is further proof of its commitment to lower taxes.

Trouble is, Malcolm Turnbull’s true conversion to the Down, Down Taxes Down party is rather recent.

Go back to his previous pre-election budget, in 2016, and he was busy increasing taxes to help pay for his 10-year phase-down in company tax.

If you remember, that budget copied Labor’s plan for four years of huge increases in tobacco excise, introduced the Coalition’s version of Labor’s major cutbacks in super tax concessions to high-income earners, introduced its own version of a tax on multinational tax avoiders and a “tax integrity package” establishing a tax avoidance taskforce.

Turnbull also explored the possibility of doing something to match Labor’s plan to curtail negative gearing, but finally decided that doing nothing would make easier to portray Labor as the high-taxing party.

Coming to last year’s budget, the government stuck with its company tax cuts, but still needed revenue. ScoMo announced a new tax on the five major banks and, from July 2019, an increase in the Medicare levy from 2 to 2.5 per cent of taxable income, to cover the rapidly rising cost of the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

This budget included another tax integrity package, which extended the special reporting requirements on payments to contractors and improved the “integrity” of GST payments on property transactions.

Now this year’s budget. This time a “black economy package” involving “new and enhanced enforcement” and further extension of reporting requirements on payments to contractors.

That’s not to mention a once-off draw-forward of duty on tobacco, “better targeting” of the research and development tax incentive, “ensuring individuals meet their tax obligations” and “better integrity over deductions for personal super contributions”.

All told, these “integrity measures” are expected to raise almost $10 billion over four years – though remember that when the tax man (or Centrelink) estimates that a new crackdown on the crackdown will raise $X billion, we have no way of knowing whether that guess proved to be too high, too low or spot on. Hmmm.

That $10 billion compares with the first-four-year cost of the personal tax cuts of $13.4 billion. But something the media has judged far too conceptual to adequately report is the decision not to go ahead with the 0.5 percentage point increase in the Medicare levy.

Deciding not to do something you hadn’t yet done adds to zilch, doesn’t it? Not if you’ve ever heard of opportunity cost. Nor if you know how budgets are constructed. The change of tune worsens the budget bottom line by $12.8 billion over four years – almost doubling the budgetary cost of the actual tax cuts.

It’s not hard to see why Turnbull lost his enthusiasm for securing the funding of the disability scheme. Bit hard to claim to be the champion of lower taxes when, with the other hand, you’re putting ’em up. (Just as long as the punters don’t notice your third hand adding to the tax system’s “integrity”.)

Equally debatable is ScoMo’s claim to be the scourge of bracket creep. Since the disaster of its first budget cured the government of any real desire to cut government spending, its main strategy for returning the budget to structural surplus has been to sit back and wait for bracket creep to do the job for it.

Had the government been travelling better in the polls that might still be its budget-repair strategy, rather than throwing the switch to fanciful fiscal forecasts.

But with bracket creep pushing up tax bills every year since the last tax cuts in 2012, beware of ScoMo playing a three-card trick: cuts that should be regarded as the partial restoration of past bracket creep being packaged as protection against future creep.

As ScoMo’s three-step, seven-year tax plan now stands, the huge proportion of taxpayers still earning less than $87,000 a year would get a tax cut of $10 a week to compensate them for all the bracket creep they will have suffered during the 16 years to 2028-29.

Don’t get me wrong. I think we should be paying higher taxes to cover the ever-better public services we unceasingly demand. The actions of both sides of politics say they agree with me. It’s just their words you shouldn’t believe.

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We have debts to pay before we give ourselves tax cuts

How much should we worry about leaving government debt to our children and grandchildren? A fair bit, though not as much as some people imagine.

The central claim of this year’s budget is that we can have our cake and eat it.

We can award ourselves personal income tax cuts worth $144 billion over 10 years, but still halt the growth in the federal government’s net debt at $350 billion by the end of June next year, and then have it fall away as the proceeds from successive, ever-growing annual budget surpluses are used to pay off the debt.

I’ve devoted much space to explaining how Treasurer Scott Morrison was able to conjure up this seeming fiscal miracle, by staging the tax cuts over seven years and by resorting to overly optimistic forecasts and projections.

So how worried should we be by the possibility that the debt will keep growing despite ScoMo’s unbounded optimism?

Well, the first thing to remember is that the federal government isn’t like a household. A household or family has to be careful about how much it borrows because it has a finite life. Eventually, the kids leave home and mum and dad die.

Of course, many families borrow amounts that are several multiples of their annual salary to buy the home they live in. They’ll take 20 or 30 years to pay off their mortgage, but few people regard this as terribly worrying.

Why not? Because the home they buy provides them with a flow of service for as long as they need it to: somewhere to live. It saves them having to pay rent.

Buying your home is an investment in an asset and, provided the family can fit the mortgage payments within their budget, no one would accuse the family of “living beyond its means”.

It would be living beyond its means, however, if it was regularly spending more on living expenses than its after-tax income.

By contrast, the government has an infinite life. It provides services for about 9 million households, who pay taxes that are usually sufficient to cover the cost of those services. As the people in those households die, their place is taken by others.

If the households aren’t paying enough tax to cover the government’s spending, the government can always increase taxes. How many households do you know that can solve their money problems by imposing a tax on other households?

This is why it’s a mistake to imagine the rules that apply to your family also apply to the government. The government’s power to raise taxes means there’s never any shortage of people willing to lend it money.

Even so, there are some valid analogies between households and governments. A government can rightly be said to be living beyond its means if it’s not raising enough tax even to cover its day-to-day expenses.

This happens automatically when the economy turns down, and isn’t a bad thing: it helps to prop up the 9 million households when times are tough. But when the economy improves, the government needs to ensure its income exceeds its ordinary spending so the debt incurred isn’t left to burden people who gained no benefit from it.

And, just as a household shouldn’t be said to be living beyond its means because it’s borrowed to buy a home, so a government that’s borrowed to build worthwhile infrastructure – roads, rail lines, airports etcetera – shouldn’t be thought to be living beyond its means.

Why not? Because, like a house, that infrastructure will deliver a flow of services for decades to come.

If the children and grandchildren who inherit that debt also inherit the infrastructure it paid for, they don’t have a lot to complain about.

So, how much of the net debt can be attributed to living beyond our means while the economy’s been below par, and how much to investing in infrastructure that’s a valuable inheritance for the next generation?

This year’s budget statement four proudly informs us that the financial year just ending is expected to be the last in which the government will have to borrow to fully cover its “recurrent” spending to keep the government working for another year.

The government had to begin borrowing for recurrent expenses (including “depreciation” - the cost of another year’s wear and tear on the physical assets the government uses in its recurrent operations) from the time of the global financial crisis in late 2008.

Updating the figures provided in last year’s statement four allows us to calculate that the cumulative recurrent deficit over the 10 years is roughly $200 billion, although you’d have to add interest costs to that.

In principle, the rest of our total net debt of about $340 billion by the end of this month has been incurred to build infrastructure, which will deliver a flow of services to the present and future generations extending over many decades.

So we need be in no hurry to pay off that part of the debt – it will do our offspring no harm.

But two qualifications. First, though economic theory indicates no level to which it’s prudent to borrow – it’s a judgment call – it is prudent to borrow less than the full cost – say, 80 or 90 per cent – of the infrastructure we build each year.

Second, it’s likely that a fair bit of the federal government’s spending on capital works has been selected more for political than economic and social reasons, and so won’t deliver much in the way of valuable services to the next generation.

If so, we should probably regard it as more in the nature of consumption or recurrent spending, and so pay for it ourselves rather than lumber our kids with it.

All of which says, yes, there is a fair bit of the total debt we should be getting on with paying off – and do so before we start awarding ourselves big tax cuts.

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Fortunately, Turnbull's tax cap is just window-dressing

The Turnbull government’s solemn pledge to cap the growth in tax receipts at 23.9 per cent of gross domestic product is a political gimmick to which no government committed to economic responsibility would bind itself.

So it’s good we can be confident that, should the Coalition remain in power in the years to come, it will ditch its solemn pledge the moment it becomes politically inconvenient.

Why can we be confident? Because this very budget ditches two earlier solemn pledges to “bank” any unexpected improvements in tax collections or government spending and to get the budget balance back to a surplus of at least 1 per cent of GDP “as soon as possible”.

As the independent economist Saul Eslake has noted, this budget gives away about 40 per cent of the revenue windfalls Treasury discovered.

For more reason to doubt the strength of the Coalition’s commitment to keeping its commitments, remember the way its determination to fix the debt and deficit “crisis” evaporated after its first attempt to do so in the 2014 budget caused its standing in the opinion polls to plunge.

What political imperative required ScoMo to ditch his earlier budget-repair commitments in this year’s budget? The government’s still well behind in the polls, but must face an election within a year, so is offering personal income tax cuts worth $144 billion over 10 years to bolster its claim to be a low-taxing party, unlike Labor.

Its latest solemn commitment to cap tax receipts at 23.9 per cent of GDP – which the government’s rosy projections say will be reached in 2021-22 - is also intended to boost the credibility of the Coalition’s claim to be a low taxer.

Where does the magic number of 23.9 spring from? The budget papers don’t bother to say. But the government has been waving this figure around without committing to it since its first budget, which says it’s “the average tax-to-GDP ratio of the years following the introduction of the GST and prior to the global financial crisis (from 2000-01 to 2007-08 inclusive)”.

That is, it’s quite arbitrary. There’s no science to it. The government could have picked any other run of years to average.

Note that in none of those eight years did the ratio actually hit 23.9 per cent. Rather, it ranged between 23.3 per cent and 24.3 per cent. Indeed, it exceeded 23.9 per cent in five of the eight years.

Is this starting to worry you? Only in the government’s medium-term projections do tax receipts move in smooth curves as a percentage of GDP. In real life, they bounce around from year to year.

The budget papers don’t bother to spell out the rules by which the cap would work (another sign of lack of commitment), but it seems it would apply prospectively.

If your forecast for the coming financial year was that receipts would exceed the cap, you’d have to use that budget to begin tax cuts big enough to prevent the cap being breached.

Of course, if the economy had up a head of steam and you breached the cap in spite of your tax cuts, you’d need to have bigger tax cuts the following year, and keep cutting taxes every year until the boom finally turned to bust.

Getting worried yet? In such circumstances, the more you kept cutting taxes, the more you’d be feeding the boom, making it more inflationary.

So, rather than using the budget and its “automatic stabilisers” (the biggest of which is what economists call “fiscal drag” and punters call bracket creep) to help stabilise the economy as it moves through the business cycle by acting to counter the cycle, you’d be acting “pro-cyclically”, the most damaging thing you can do with a budget.

Of course, the Reserve Bank wouldn’t be sitting idle while the treasurer was throwing tax-cut fuel on the inflationary fire. It would be seeking to counter the wrongly timed budgetary stimulus by jacking up interest rates. In the jargon, monetary policy would be at war with fiscal policy. Great idea.

Is this improbable scenario ringing any bells? It’s what actually happened under treasurer Peter Costello in the first stage of the resources boom. And it explains why, had such a cap existed at the time, it would have been breached four years in a row, despite annual tax cuts.

All these worries before you get to the question of whether the Coalition would have either the political courage or the wit to restrain its spending to fit within a cap on tax collections.

Nothing in its sorry history, nor its latest “guarantee” to continue to fund “the essential services that Australians expect and are entitled to receive”, suggests it would have such courage.

A party making no promises on the extent of its tax raising is more to be believed.

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Bracket creep lives to fight another day

An Australian newspaper’s headline on the morning after the budget was SCOMO STOPS THE CREEP. The nation’s most ponderous political pundit intoned that the Treasurer would “eliminate bracket creep for the middle class”.

The man himself claimed his tax-cut plan “ran a sword through bracket creep”.

Sorry, yet another of Scott Morrison’s attempts to mislead us in a most misleading budget. He’s exploiting the public’s hazy understanding of what bracket creep is and how it works.

If you’re not paid to be treasurer, you can be forgiven for imagining that bracket creep occurs when pay rises or other increases in your income push you into a higher income tax bracket, causing you to pay more tax.

At present, the middle, 32.5¢-in-the-dollar bracket starts at incomes of $37,000 a year and runs to $87,000. Morrison plans to raise this upper bracket limit to $90,000 in July this year, then to $120,000 in July 2022, then $200,000 in July 2024.

At the moment, about 53 per cent of taxpayers have the last part of their income falling in that 32.5¢ bracket. But by the time he’s finished, he expects almost three-quarters of people to be in it.

Get it? Someone on $87,000 could see their income rise by 130 per cent before they were pushed into a higher tax bracket.

This is the basis for ScoMo’s claim to be pretty much killing off bracket creep. But it’s not as true as he wants you to believe.

Why not? Because chapter two of the The Idiot Politician’s Guide to Income Tax  explains that you can suffer from bracket creep even if you don’t get pushed into a higher bracket. If that wasn’t true, people on the top, 45¢-in-the-dollar tax rate wouldn’t suffer from bracket creep – and I assure you we do.

How can it happen? It happens because everyone’s income is taxed in slices, and the rate of tax on each slice gets progressively (note that word) higher.

At present, the tax rates start at zero for the first $18,200 of annual income, then 19 per cent for the next $18,800, 32.5 per cent for the next $50,000, 37 per cent for the next $93,000 and 45 per cent for everything over that total of $180,000.

By the time ScoMo’s three-step, seven-year plan is intended to be in place in July 2024, however, it will be zero for the first $18,200 of annual income, then 19 per cent for the next $22,800, 32.5 per cent for the next $159,000, and 45 per cent for everything over that total of $200,000.

Ignoring the complication of the low-income tax offset, at that time someone on $41,000 would pay an average rate of tax on the whole of their income of 10.6¢ in the dollar, whereas someone on $200,000 would pay an average tax rate of 28¢ in the dollar.

Guess what? As the incomes of people at the bottom of the new, huge 32.5¢ bracket rose over time, their average rate of tax would rise from 10.6¢ in the dollar towards 28¢. And that would happen without them being pushed into a higher tax bracket. As an economist would say, their marginal tax rate would be unchanged at 32.5¢.

How can this happen? People’s average tax rate rises because, as their income increases, a smaller proportion of it is taxed at less than their marginal tax rate, while a higher proportion is taxed at their (higher) marginal rate.

For someone who, in 2024, is on $41,000 a year, 44 per cent of their total income would be taxed at zero, while 56 per cent would be taxed at $19¢ in the dollar.

By the time that person’s income has increased to $200,000 a year, however, only 9 per cent of their income is tax at zero, and 11 per cent at 19¢ in the dollar, leaving the remaining 80 per cent taxed at 32.5¢ in the dollar.

So the correct way to understand what economists call “fiscal drag” and punters call “bracket creep” is that it happens because people’s average rate of tax increases as their incomes rise.

What is true, however, is that actually moving into a higher (marginal) tax bracket accelerates the rate at which your average tax rate rises.

Bracket creep is an inevitable consequence of our “progressive” income tax. The term progressive means that as your income rises, the proportion of your income paid in tax gets progressively higher.

But what does most to make an income tax scale progressive is an initial zero-rate bracket. Say some crazed treasurer of the future decided to introduce a tax scale with just a single positive tax rate of 32.5 per cent. That would be still be a progressive tax scale provided it had a zero-rate bracket (a “tax-free threshold”) to start with.

Only if the 32.5 per cent tax rate started at an annual income of $1 would such a tax be a true “flat-rate” tax. Economists would say such a tax was neither progressive nor “regressive” (where the proportion of income tax paid declines as incomes rise) but “proportional”.

When you have a progressive tax scale, as every rich country does, the only way to (largely) eliminate bracket creep is to index each of the bracket limits to some measure of price or wage inflation no less frequently than once a year.

Except for a minor change in the 2016 budget, our tax scale has been unchanged since July 2012. Consumer prices have risen by more than 12 per cent since then, and the wage price index by 14 per cent. That’s a fair bit of bracket creep.

So what are Morrison’s plans for raising the bracket limits? The zero bracket would be unchanged, the 19¢ in the dollar limit would rise by 11 per cent, the 32.5¢ limit would rise first by 3 per cent, then a cumulative 38 per cent and then 130 per cent. The top, 45¢ bracket would rise by 11 per cent.

Whatever ScoMo’s objectives are, fixing bracket creep isn’t one of them.

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We'll get a very clear choice at the election

The federal election campaign could be as soon as August and no later than May. So which side is shaping as better at managing the economy?

Sorry, I won’t be answering that question. If you’re smart enough to choose to read this august organ, you’re smart enough to make up your own mind – which you probably already have.

The partisan or tribal approach to politics – if my side’s proposing it, it’s what I prefer – is a common way of economising on thinking time.

But I’m paid to scrutinise the propositions coming from both sides, so let me offer some pointers to help those who do want a better understanding of the choice available.

The first point is one that will be forgotten from the moment the election’s called: the main instrument used to manage the economy through the ups and downs of the business cycle is interest rates (“monetary policy”).

So the day-to-day management of the economy is done not by the politicians in Canberra, but by the econocrats at the Reserve Bank in Sydney. Neither side has shown the least indication of wanting to change this.

It means that, apart from making decisions affecting the activities of particular industries (the banks, the live meat export trade) or such minor concerns as the natural environment, the elected government’s main means of influencing the broader economy is via its budget: the taxes it raises, the things it chooses to spend on, and the gap – the deficit or surplus – it leaves between the two (“fiscal policy”).

It’s now clear the election campaign will focus on taxes and government spending. Rather than sticking to the usual approach of making itself a small target against an unpopular government by saying “me too” to most of the government’s policies, Labor is making itself a big target, with various policies the Coalition has opposed.

So in this campaign we’ll be given a wider choice than usual, with each side conforming more than usually to their left versus right stereotypes. Labor will be promising to spend more on health and education than the Coalition, offering bigger tax cuts than the Coalition (in the first few years, anyway), and promising to reduce deficit and debt faster than the Coalition.

Against this, Malcolm Turnbull has used the big tax cuts announced in the budget to position the Coalition as the low spending, low taxing side, compared to Labor’s big spending, big taxing alternative.

This glosses over the Coalition’s own record on tax and spending, but there is some truth to the characterisation.

Remember, however, that neither side is promising anything but a temporary fix to bracket creep, because neither side is confident of its ability to contain the growth in government spending. So it’s probably closer to the truth to say that, however much Labor taxes and spends, the Coalition will do a bit less.

But how on earth can Labor promise to spend more, tax less and improve the budget balance faster?

Thankfully, we won’t be hearing much of the “Where’s the money coming from?” cry because Labor has a not-so-secret weapon: it has already announced policies to increase tax collections by reducing negative gearing and the capital gains tax discount, further reducing superannuation tax
concessions, taxing family trusts, ending cash refunds of unused franking credits, raising the top income tax rate by 2 percentage points to 49 per cent, and abandoning the cut in the rate of company tax for big businesses.

These measures should increase taxes by about $30 billion over four years and almost $200 billion over 10 years. They’ve been costed by the Parliamentary Budget Office, so there’s also likely to be less campaign argy-bargy over the costing of promises.

Labor has matched the government’s $530-a-year tax cut for middle and above-middle income-earners and raised it to $928. But it’s still considering whether to match the second step of lifting the 32.5 per cent tax upper bracket limit from $90,000 a year to $120,000 in July 2022. It’s unlikely to match the third step of lifting that limit to $200,000 in July 2024.

This tells us that neither side is particularly generous to genuinely low income-earners, and both have an exaggerated impression of where the middle is.

The big difference between the sides emerges for people earning more than $90,000 a year (which is almost 60 per cent higher than the median income), to whom the Coalition is offering much bigger tax cuts – while Labor would actually raise the tax rate on incomes above $180,000, as well as aiming most of its reductions in tax breaks at high income-earners.

So Labor would make income tax more redistributive, whereas the Coalition would make it less so. If that doesn’t offer voters a real choice, I don’t know what would.

But all is not as clear-cut as it sounds. For a start, both sides are engaged in a tax-cut bidding war while the budget is still in deficit with a rising debt. Both sides are relying on the government’s quite optimistic forecasts and projections in the budget. What if they don’t come to pass?

Also, what politicians promise and what they can get passed by Parliament are two different things. As Phillip Coorey of the Financial Review has revealed, the likely composition of the Senate after the election – fewer, but more conservative cross-benchers - should make it easier for the Coalition than for Labor to get its policies into law.

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Let's outlaw she'll-be-right budget projections

The practice of including in the budget 10-year “medium-term” projections of the budget balance and net debt is pernicious. It should be abandoned in the interests of responsible economic management.

It’s supposed to increase transparency and accountability, but in practice does more harm than good, presenting the government of the day with an almost irresistible temptation to portray the future as more assured than it is.

The future is unknowable. We can’t forecast the economy even a year ahead with any accuracy, but what we can be most sure of is that, even with pure motivations, a mechanical projection out 10 years is highly likely to be way off-beam.

We know the economy never moves in straight lines, but each year’s 10-year projection shows it on glide path to where we want to be. Obviously, no account is taken of unexpected shocks to the economy – even though it’s a safe bet there’ll be more than a few in the space of a decade.

Treasurers' unworthy intention is to leave non-economists with the impression everything’s under control and on the improve. But I think it’s likely to leave even our economists and econocrats with a false sense of comfort. If you doubt that, you haven’t read Daniel Kahneman’s Thinking Fast and Slow.

I remember how proud the Hawke government’s hard-man finance minister, Peter Walsh, was after persuading the cabinet to include in the budget papers not just the figures for the budget year, but also for the following three years of “forward estimates”.

This would improve transparency and accountability, making it harder for governments to hide the budgetary consequences of their decisions in later years.

But when Labor’s Wayne Swan came under pressure to get the budget deficit down in the early years of this decade – struggling with the big-spending proclivities of his successive prime ministers – he soon realised the way to make the deficit look like it was headed steadily in the right direction was to “re-profile” big spending commitments into more convenient years.

In particular, he was always using his “fiscal bulldozer” to push spending commitments beyond the three-year forward estimates, where they couldn’t be seen.

As commentators started drawing attention to this trick it became clear he’d have to bolster the budget’s credibility by providing some sort of answer to the question of what would happen beyond the forward estimates.

Thus the greater weight put on medium-term projections. Thus has the budget’s purview been inflated from one year to 10 – all with without succeeding in curbing treasurers’ temptation to mislead. From wherever he’s watching on, I doubt the late hard-man of Finance is cheering.

Sad to say, the medium-term projection has been about deception – both numerical and visual – from the off. In all the budgets since Swan introduced them, never once has the budget balance failed to glide smoothly up to a healthy surplus, nor the net debt failed to glide smoothly down towards zero.

How’s it done? By making assumptions, of course. Assumptions are the unavoidable basis for all “projections”. But the proof that the budget’s projections have always been more for support than illumination is that never have the assumptions been fully and clearly spelt out.

In this budget, what little explanation there is has been sprinkled through three different chapters (“statements”) of budget paper No.1. Buried in statement three is the warning that “projections of the receipts impact over the medium term are subject to higher levels of uncertainty and are sensitive to changes in economic conditions, underlying assumptions and forecasts”.

And this year Treasury seems to have slipped into statement two the additional warning that assuming the spare capacity in the economy is absorbed over five years from the first year of the projections is “a well-established approach but it is not without drawbacks”.

The key assumptions are: the rate at which government spending will grow – which will be based on any new (financial) year’s resolution the government has made to be frugal in future – and the economy’s medium-term “potential” rate of growth, when we’ll get back to it and how quickly we’ll use up the (estimated) spare capacity once we have.

This year’s fine print acknowledges that the assumed potential growth rate of 2.75 per cent a year is based partly on the assumption that labour productivity grows each year at its 30-year average rate of 1.6 per cent. But former top econocrat Dr Mike Keating notes that the average over the past decade is only 1.35 per cent – which makes a big difference.

Even without the ever-present temptation to fudge, projections are a device for deluding ourselves we know more about the future than we do. By ignoring all the uncertainties, they breed not understanding, but complacency. An honest government would abandon the practice.

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Morrison's tax cuts aim well above the middle

One thing to be said in favour of Scott Morrison’s complex three-step, seven-year tax plan is that his small tax cuts for the deserving middle income-earners are more likely to actually happen than the huge tax cuts for the undeserving high income-earners.

For the latter to eventuate, Malcolm Turnbull will have to be re-elected at least twice before July 2024. By contrast, the smaller cuts will start in six weeks’ time. For once it’s the rich who’re being promised pie in the sky (hopefully) before they die.

This means it’s wrong to simply compare the $530-a-year saving for people on middle incomes with the $7225-a-year saving for all of us struggling to get by on more than $200,000 a year.

Why? Because by the time the people on such big incomes are due to get their tax cut, the others will already have had their much smaller cuts every year for six years.

The thing about money is that the sooner you get your hands on it, the better. Economists call this “the time-value of money”.

But that about exhausts the good points of ScoMo’s tax plan. His claim that it would make income tax “lower, simpler and fairer” is debatable.

Even his claim that the first step in his cuts is aimed a “low and middle income-earners” is misleading. People accept such claims only because they have no idea where the middle is.

ScoMo wants to overstate the level at which the middle is situated because his tax cuts are designed to favour the better-off.

He quotes the average weekly earnings of full-time employees – about $85,000 a year – as his indicator of the middle. But way more than half of full-time workers earn less than this.

That’s because the super-high salaries of a relative handful of employees push up the arithmetic average (the mean), making it a misleading measure of “central tendency”.

No, the better measure is the median – the income that’s higher than half the other incomes and lower than half the others. That is, the one dead in the middle. A high proportion of all full-timers will be clustered in roughly equal proportions a bit above and below the median.

The median income of adult full-time employees is about $76,000 – almost 11 per cent lower than the mean. But this measure ignores almost a third of workers who are part-time. Don’t they pay tax?

The median income of all employees is about $57,000 – which is a much better indicator of “the middle of the middle”.

ScoMo’s full tax saving of $530 a year (about $10 a week) will go to the 4.4 million taxpayers earning between $48,000 and $90,000 a year. That range goes from 16 per cent below the all-employees median to 58 per cent above it. Touch of asymmetry there. But there’s more.

On the upside, the 1.5 million taxpayers earning between $90,000 and $125,000 get a saving that starts at $530 and slowly reduces until it reaches zero at the top of this bracket.

On the downside, the 1.8 million taxpayers earning between $37,000 and $48,000 a year get a saving of $530 at the top, which then falls to $200 at the bottom of the bracket, while the 2.4 million taxpayers earning between $18,000-odd and $37,000 get nothing at the bottom, rising to $200 at the top.

Now, what would be a good indicator of a low income? Well, the minimum full-time wage is about $36,000 - meaning these people get a saving of about $185 a year or $3.60 a week. Wow. That much?

And what about all the under-employed workers who can’t get as many hours as they need. Aren’t they low income-earners? Their saving could be as little as zilch.

Still think ScoMo’s first step is aimed at “low and middle income-earners”? The truth is it’s aimed at middle and upper-middle earners. Anyone well below the middle gets peanuts.

Morrison’s claim that his plan would make income tax simpler is based on his second and third steps, in July 2022 and July 2024, finally eliminating the 37¢-in-the-dollar bracket, reducing the rate scale from five brackets to four.

But his changes would make the system more complex by introducing a new “low and middle-income tax offset”, to go on top of the existing low-income tax offset.

The effect of both offsets could have been incorporated into the rate scale, but hasn’t been. Why not? Because leaving them separate stops people seeing the extra tax rate (1½¢ in the dollar) they pay as their eligibility for the tax offset is clawed back to zero.

The Australian Taxpayers Alliance has demonstrated that, far from reducing the tax scale from five brackets to four, in truth the plan increases them from eight to 10. That’s simpler?

Our income tax is “progressive” because successive slices of your income are taxed at progressively higher rates. It would stay progressive under ScoMo’s plan, because it would still go from a first bracket where the tax rate is zero, to a top bracket where the rate is 45¢ in the dollar.

But it would, in a sense, be less progressive in that, after step three, almost three-quarters of taxpayers would end up in a huge bracket running from $41,000 to $200,000, all with a “marginal” tax rate of 32.5¢ on the last part of their income.

A better way to put it, however, is that ScoMo wants to put a big kink in the progressive scale. As your income rose above $200,000, your marginal tax rate would suddenly leap from 32.5¢ to 45¢.

Why is every country’s income tax scale progressive? Because making people contribute a higher proportion of their income according to their “ability to pay” is considered fairer.

When Morrison claims his changes would make the system fairer, he’s turning the meaning of the word on its head. He thinks the system would be fairer if high income-earners had to pay a smaller proportion of their incomes in tax.

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