Big cities have become the engine of the economy

Old notions die hard. If you took all the production of goods and services in Australia and plotted on a map where that production took place, what would it look like?

Any farmer could tell you most of the value is created in the bush. A miner, however, would tell you - a bunch of ads have told you - these days most of the wealth is generated in areas such as the Pilbara in Western Australia and the Bowen Basin in Queensland.

Then, of course, there are the great manufacturing states of Victoria and South Australia - with most work done in the suburbs of Melbourne and Adelaide, but also regional cities such as Geelong.

That make any sense to you? It's completely off beam.

A report issued this week by the Grattan Institute finds that, these days, 80 per cent of the dollar value of all goods and services in Australia is produced on just 0.2 per cent of the nation's land mass. Just about all of that is in our big cities, as close in as possible.

The report, by Jane-Frances Kelly and Paul Donegan, finds that big cities are now the engines of our prosperity. If you take just the central business districts of Sydney and Melbourne - covering a mere 7.1 square kilometres - you have accounted for almost 10 per of Australia's gross domestic product.

What do workers do in all those city offices? Nothing you can touch. That's how much the economy's changed.

To find the economy as many people still imagine it to be, you have to go back 50, even 100 years. About 100 years ago, almost half Australia's population of 4 million lived on rural properties or in small towns of fewer than 3000 people.

Many of these would have been market towns serving the agricultural economy. Agriculture and mining accounted for a third of the workforce. And only about one in three Australians lived in a city of at least 100,000 people.

These days, agriculture employs only 3 per cent of workers and contributes only 2 per cent of GDP. Our two biggest CBDs contribute at least four times that much.

By the end of World War II, manufacturing had become Australia's dominant industry. At its height in 1960, the report reminds us, manufacturing employed more than a quarter of the workforce and accounted for almost 30 per cent of GDP.

The rise of manufacturing shifted much of our economic activity - our prosperity - to the big cities, but mainly to the suburbs. Suburbs away from city centres had lower rents and less congestion.

Postwar growth in car ownership made possible the shift to a manufacturing economy with a strong suburban presence. It also led to the demise of many small towns and the rise of regional centres.

Today, however, manufacturing employs only 9 per cent of the workforce and accounts for just 7 per cent of GDP. The thing to note is that this seeming decline in manufacturing has involved only a small and quite recent fall in the quantity of things we manufacture in Oz.

Similarly, the decline in agriculture's share of employment and GDP has occurred even though the quantity of rural production is higher than ever. The trick is that these industries didn't contract so much as other parts of the economy grew a lot faster, shrinking their share of the total.

One of those other parts is mining, of course. But get this: "While Australia's natural resource deposits are typically in remote areas, workers in cities make a critical contribution to the industry's success," the report says.

"For instance, in Western Australia, where the most productive mining regions are located, more than one third of people employed in mining work in Perth."

That's partly because of fly-in fly-out, but mainly because many of these workers are highly skilled engineers, scientists, production managers, accountants and administrators.

So what explains the greater and still-growing economic significance of big cities, so that Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and Perth now contribute 61 per cent of GDP? The rise of the knowledge economy.

Increasingly, our prosperity rests not on growing, digging up or making things, but on knowing things. Our workforce is more highly educated than ever, and this is the result.

"Knowledge-intensive jobs are vital to the modern economy. They drive innovation and productivity, and are a critical source of employment growth. In the last 15 years there has been much higher growth in high-skilled, compared to low-skilled, employment," the report says.

Knowledge-intensive activities aren't confined to jobs in the services sector, but are also increasing in mining and manufacturing. They often involve coming up with new ideas, solving complex problems or finding better ways of doing things.

But here's the trick: it suits many of the knowledge workers, and the businesses that employ them, for those workers to be crowded into big cities, as close in as possible. When you're all packed in together, there's more scope for the transfers of expertise, new ideas and process improvements known as "knowledge spillovers".

Such spillovers come particularly through face-to-face contact. Large cities offer employers knowledge spillovers and a large skilled workforce. They also offer people greater opportunities to get a job, move to a better job, build skills and bounce back if they lose their job.

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City and country problems all demand higher taxes

At last we've settled on an election issue of substance: did Kevin Rudd use notes in the TV debate and was this against the rules? And that's not all: did he rustle his notes and, if so, was this deliberate or just a nervous mannerism?

The two leaders' aim in the debate was the same as their aim in this campaign: to make it to election day while giving as few commitments as possible about what they'll do in the next three years.

I wouldn't mind so much if they were trying to stay unencumbered, able to respond to any eventuality. But actually they're trying to create the illusion that everything they have planned will solve our problems without any price to be paid.

Tony Abbott keeps telling us about all the taxes he plans to abolish but not how he'll cover the loss of revenue, except to say he'll get rid of government waste. Sure.

In response to Rudd's embarrassing "cheap scare campaign" on the goods and services tax he assured us that "the GST is not going to change", but avoided answering a question on how long that guarantee would last.

By the end of the next day, however, the pressure had become irresistible and he ruled out changing the GST for as long as an Abbott government lasts. In modern campaigning, tough issues aren't debated, they're closed off.

And on when Sydney will get a second airport, both men are evasive. In the 40 years since Gough Whitlam asserted "you're getting Galston", successive governments have pushed the decision aside.

These guys touch on matters of concern to ordinary people's ordinary lives but they rarely get to grips with them. Consider the findings of the latest Ipsos Mind and Mood report on differences between the city and the country, Life in Two Australias. A series of 16 group discussions in Sydney, Melbourne, Tamworth, Townsville and Bunbury finds that, whatever their complaints, country people prefer the country and city people prefer the city, though country people do seem more effusive.

They see their lives as low-stress, with friendly faces, open spaces and manageable mortgages. It's a cleaner environment where their kids can get dirty. Parents feel their kids get great formal education but are also more rounded and grounded in their social and communication skills.

"Skinny-dipping, fishing, four-wheel driving, open fires and bartering were cherished aspects of a free-range, unconstrained regional lifestyle," the researchers, led by Dr Rebecca Huntley, report.

And the big drawback? "It is healthier to live in the country unless you're sick." Poorer access to good quality health services was a key disadvantage of regional centres, sending the sick onto long local waiting lists or down the highway in search of help in the city.

Although country participants felt they had a monopoly on community spirit, city people valued social inclusion and connection with their neighbourhoods. And though their green spaces and open places may be smaller, they're valued.

The high cost of housing and rising living costs were key motivations for considering a move to the regions. Country life looks attractive to stressed-out city residents, young families and retirees.

But could they leave family and friends? What about the horror stories of inadequate country health services? Would there be enough shops and enough entertainments to keep them amused? And would they be welcomed? "Rumours of gossip-laden, judgmental, close-knit social networks that could be hard to break into fed fears of potential social isolation," the researchers find.

How does this discussion of ordinary life fit with the preoccupations of the election campaign? Well, it's clear adequate healthcare and access to doctors is a major concern for country people.

But health is one of the issues being closed off. There's a lot more needing to be spent. But Labor is being pilloried for its increased spending (on health as much as anything) and the focus is on criticising tax increases, cutting company tax, abolishing new taxes and swearing never to increase old ones.

For city-siders, however, the big issue is roads and public transport. "The lengthy commute in bumper-to-bumper traffic is literally driving people out of our capital cities to regional Australia in hope of recovering wasted hours spent in the car each day," the researchers say. City drivers feel forced to take to their cars because of inadequate public transport, while country people envy their trains, trams, buses and taxis.

Ah, here we may have found a match. Although Rudd hasn't had much to say about roads and transport, Abbott says he hopes he'll become known as an infrastructure prime minister and reels off a list of city road projects he wants to fund.

Sorry, but I'm not convinced. The Coalition doesn't seem to have learnt what I thought everyone realised by now: building more expressways solves congestion only for long as it takes more people to switch to driving their cars.

The problem is reduced only by improved public transport. But Abbott would revert to the view that the feds don't finance urban public transport projects.

So leave it to the states. But they've just had their finances crimped by his promise never to repair the premiers' biggest but ailing source of revenue, the GST.

And both sides' belief that government debt is evil condemns us to a life of inadequate public infrastructure.

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The economic geography of big cities

If you've seen those ads the mining industry is running you probably realise the entire economy is riding on the miners' backs, and if asked to pay another dollar more in tax they'll up sticks and shift their mines to some better-run country like Peru or Nigeria.

If you've spoken to a farmer any time in the past 50 years you'll know it's actually farming that's propping the economy.

In either case you'll be surprised to know the truth: according to estimates by the Department of Infrastructure and Transport, 80 per cent of Australia's economic activity takes place in Australia's major cities.

That's because the great majority of us live in big cities. We live there because that's where most of the jobs are. Equally, most of the jobs are where the people live because most jobs involve doing things for people (such as bringing them the news).

But it's not by accident that so many of us happen to be piled into a handful of cities (as are people in all developed countries and, increasingly, many developing countries). We pile together because it's more efficient economically, thus making us more prosperous.

For one thing, it saves on transport and other distribution costs. For another, outfits such as hospitals and schools - even shopping centres - gain economies of scale when they have more people to serve.

But that's just the start of the "economies of agglomeration", as Jane-Frances Kelly and Peter Mares point out in their report for the Grattan Institute, Productive Cities.

We're used to dividing up the economy by sector - agriculture, mining, manufacturing and the big one, services - and focusing on how these sectors' shares of the economy are changing. But this blinds us to an important development.

"One of the most significant long-term shifts in advanced economies is towards knowledge-intensive activities. These take place across all sectors of the economy," the authors say. In other words, there are knowledge-intensive jobs in each of the sectors - but almost all of them are located in the cities.

Knowledge-intensive activities tend to involve customised problem solving, which requires significant intellectual effort. So such workers solve problems and generate ideas. Their jobs are clean, safe, well-paid and intellectually satisfying. They're the way for Australia to go if we want a better future than just farming and mining (lucrative though they are).

But here's the point: knowledge-intensive activities grow best in big cities. This is because people and businesses learn from each other, and the closer together they are the more they learn. According to the urban economist Edward Glaeser, the "central paradox of the modern metropolis" is that even as the cost of connecting across distance falls, so the value of being close to other businesses rises.

As well, the more businesses and workers cluster together, the more they each benefit from "deep" labour markets. Firms have more workers to pick from; workers have more firms to pick from. Jobs can become more specialised, and ever-increasing specialisation is one of the main ways economies have become richer over the past 200 years.

When you specialise in something you get better at it. And the individual worker more closely fits the needs of the individual employer (which makes the worker more valuable and able to command a higher salary). But the more specialised you are the more contact you need with others in your specialty to help you keep up.

The report says that, adapting to changing economic circumstances, Australia's largest cities have evolved from compact colonial cities where jobs and houses were close together and most people walked to work, to cities that spread outwards into suburbs.

"This transition was made easier by changing transport technologies: first trams and trains, then buses and cars. The transition further separated the worlds of work and home, an arrangement that was well suited to a 20th-century economy driven largely by manufacturing, when industry could often be a dirty and noisy neighbour."

Initially this led to the "hollowing out" of inner cities as both residents and jobs moved to the suburbs. In the decades since 1980, however, the trend began to turn around, as services began to replace manufacturing as the main source of new jobs.

Combined with factors such as traffic congestion and rising fuel prices, this helped to prompt a resurgence of CBDs and inner suburbs as places to live and work.

The point here is that the economic efficiency of cities - their ability to generate well-paying jobs - turns on where the jobs are, where the homes are and the adequacy of the transport system that allows us to move between the two.

But the report finds that labour markets are shallow in significant parts of Australia's biggest cities. "In many suburbs - particularly outer suburbs - residents can reach fewer than 10 per cent of all metropolitan jobs with a reasonable commuting time," it says.

The answer is not for governments to try (and often fail) to create jobs in outer suburban areas. People want to live closer in, and many of them want units rather than houses. So the answer is to remove the disincentives faced by developers building in established suburbs and stop established suburbs from being "locked down" by restrictive zoning and planning rules.

The way to reduce traffic congestion and increase the capacity of city transport systems is to start charging for the use of roads and use the revenue to expand public transport.

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Poverty rises as you move from the centre

In Bill Bryson's fascinating book, Shakespeare, he says we know remarkably little about the man, and most of what we think we know has been dreamt up by overenthusiastic scholars. But of at least one point he was sure: in Shakespeare's London, rich and poor lived side by side. A case, I guess, of the rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate.

They don't make cities like that anymore. Or rather, modern cities seem to be a lot more socially segregated, with the rich tending to live together on one side of the tracks and the poor living on the other.

Research undertaken some years ago by economists at the Australian National University found Australian cities had become more divided, and there is much American research to similar effect. But a research report to be issued on Wednesday has found something a bit different. It is Promoting Inclusion and Combating Deprivation, by Professor Peter Saunders and Dr Melissa Wong, of the Social Policy Research Centre at the University of NSW.

They conducted a survey of 6000 people drawn at random from around Australia in May 2010. They got more than 2600 responses, which they divided into six categories according to where people lived: inner metropolitan area, outer metropolitan, large towns (more than 25,000 people), larger country towns (more than 10,000 people), small country towns (fewer than 10,000 people) and rural areas.
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Not surprisingly, they found there were poor, socially disadvantaged people living in all areas. But they also found a strong correlation between where people live and how likely they are to be socially disadvantaged. As the degree of population concentration declines, the rate of social disadvantage tends to increase. To be blunt, the further out you go from the centre of big cities, the higher the proportion of poor people you find.

After allowing for family size, the average disposable income of households was $970 a week. But inner metropolitan households averaged 12 per cent above this, whereas rural households averaged 14 per cent below. (Of course, if some locations have a higher proportion of retired people, the average income will be lower.)

In inner metropolitan areas, the proportion of households living in poverty (that is, with incomes below half the median income) was 12 per cent. It rose to 12.4 per cent in outer metropolitan, 12.6 per cent in large towns, 14.8 per cent in larger country towns and 16.8 per cent in small country towns, dropping a little to 15.5 per cent (still the second highest rate) in rural areas.

Those poverty rates were calculated by the researchers. When the survey respondents were asked whether they considered themselves to be living in poverty, their answers followed pretty much the same pattern.

What's notable, however, is that their subjective assessments were about 2 percentage points lower than the calculated rates. So, unlike many of the rest of us, the genuinely poor don't seem to be feeling particularly sorry for themselves.

But poverty – how much money you have to spend – is not the only dimension of social disadvantage. And there's been controversy over the unavoidable arbitrariness of where poverty lines are drawn. So Saunders and his colleagues have put much work into developing a different approach, one based on people's access to 24 items that a majority of Australians responding to an earlier survey regard as the "essentials of life".

The items include a substantial meal at least once a day, warm clothes and bedding, a washing machine, a decent and secure home, roof and gutters that don't leak, a separate bed for each child, presents for family or friends at least once a year, being able to buy medicines prescribed by a doctor, and up to $500 in savings for an emergency.

When you assess the respondents to the latest survey according to their access to these essentials you find the same story: deprivation tends to rise as you progress from inner metropolitan to rural. The highest levels of deprivation are in social functioning (such as regular social contact with other people) and risk protection (such as car insurance).

All very interesting, but also worrying. Higher rates of social disengagement in smaller communities cast doubt on the happy notion that, in the country, everyone knows each other and everyone looks after each other. But it's not surprising that, the further out you are, the less your access to public services such as dentists and childcare. Nor that unemployment rates are usually much higher.

It's possible the socially disadvantaged tend to gravitate to the country – say, because rents are lower. The greater probability, however, is that people living further from the centre are more likely to suffer disadvantage because of the deficiencies of the areas in which they live.

The trouble is, disadvantage breeds disadvantage. Whatever problems you have of your own, they're likely to be compounded if a lot of the people around you have similar problems.

"Once population decline and poverty become entrenched in an area, further problems emerge that act as barriers for those who remain," the researchers say. "The result is that, increasingly, where one lives (or is born) has a major impact on one's life chances."

It follows that, as governments seek to reduce social disadvantage, they should see the disadvantaged not just as individuals needing help, but also as people living in disadvantaged areas – people unlikely to get far unless something is done to improve conditions in their district.

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Why most of us live in big cities

We live in the age of the city. A year or two ago we passed the point where half the world's population was now living in urban areas. This is because the rapid economic development of many large but poor countries is as much about urbanisation as industrialisation. Now experts are predicting the proportion of us living in cities will rise to 70 per cent within the next 40 years.

This isn't happening by accident. People migrate from the country to the city in the confident belief - invariably more right than wrong - this will raise their standard of living.

Putting it another way, there are huge economic advantages if most of us live in big cities, packed together like sardines. Economists call these the "economies of agglomeration".

When businesses are located close to their customers, suppliers and potential employees, they can produce their goods and services at less cost. When a number of businesses in the same industry are located in the same city there are further savings.

That's the economists' conventional explanation of why we pile into cities.

More recently, Professor Edward Glaeser, of Harvard, has argued that cities - and the face-to-face contact they make possible - are the ideal bed for germinating and propagating the ideas that drive the information economy.

So, much of the rich world's affluence is owed to our penchant for crowding together. And when politicians and economists turn their mind to cities their concern is usually to ensure the economic benefits keep rolling in.

But what about the social, psychological side? Do we pay a high social or mental price for so much unnatural crowding? As a general proposition, I'm not sure we do. Most city slickers enjoy living in cities, surrounded by so many people and so much choice.

Even so, we're engaged in a tricky balancing act, enjoying the benefits of having so many around us while retaining some personal space and privacy. In the country everyone looks after each other - or so we like to think - but in the city we tend to mind our own business.

When we get this balance wrong, city living becomes more impersonal and less satisfying than it should be. In the extreme case, there can be so much keeping-yourself-to-yourself that individuals feel lonely and isolated in the midst of the crowd.

Do economists ever worry about this sort of thing? No, not their department. Do politicians? Since they're so preoccupied with matters economic, probably not as much as they should.

These issues are explored in a new report from the Grattan Institute, Social Cities, by Jane-Frances Kelly and others. Let me summarise its findings.

It finds that social connection - our relationships with others - is critical to our wellbeing. Humans are social animals. We evolved in an environment where group membership was essential to survival, so now it's built into our brains.

We form connections at three levels: intimate personal and family relationships, links with a broader network of friends, relatives and colleagues, and collective connection - our feeling of belonging in our communities.

Social connection is important to our health as well as our happiness. Loneliness can be as bad for our health as high blood pressure, lack of exercise, obesity or smoking. Australian research shows that older people with stronger networks of friends live longer.

"The importance of social connection to health and wellbeing means that, for many people, improved relationships are a much more realistic path to a better life than increased income," the report says.

The few internationally comparable statistics relating to social connection suggest Australia is doing well. On the proportion of people who have relatives or friends they can count on in a time of need, we rank sixth out of 41 mainly developed countries. On the proportion of people who feel most other people can be trusted, we rank fifth.

Even so, our degree of social connection is declining. Our average number of friends has fallen in the past 20 years, as has the number of local people we can ask for small favours. And social connection is unevenly distributed. People on lower incomes and people with disabilities have lower trust in others.

One-person households account for a quarter of all households and are the fastest-growing type. You're not lonely just because you live alone, but the risk of it is a lot higher. Being a single parent is a risk factor, as is having limited English.

The report stresses it doesn't believe in physical determinism - that design is destiny. Even so, "the shape of our cities can make it easier, or harder, for people to interact'.

"Where we live, work and meet, and how we travel between these places, has a big impact on how much time we have to connect, and who we can meet face-to-face," it says.

Social connection is becoming more widely recognised as an important goal in the design of streets and the architecture of buildings. But when major decisions about transport infrastructure and land use are made, social connection is rarely given the same priority as the movement of people and goods for employment and commerce.

Inefficient urban transport networks see much of our day swallowed up by commuting, leaving us less time for friends and family. It's simpler for people to get together to play sport if training grounds are available nearby, and it's easier to organise a picnic if you can walk to a local park.

"If our cities are to absorb larger populations and improve quality of life for all, they will need to meet our social as well as our material needs," the report concludes.

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