Forget what’s happening in the economy, just find a scary label

If you want the unvarnished truth, the economy’s rate of growth slowed surprisingly sharply in the second half of last year. If you prefer titillating silliness, we’ve entered a “per capita recession”.

The national accounts for the December quarter, issued by the Australian Bureau of Statistics this week, show real gross domestic product growing by only 0.2 per cent during the quarter, following growth of only 0.3 per cent in the September quarter.

That compares with growth in the first half of 2018 of 0.8 in the June quarter and 1.1 per cent in the March quarter. Six months ago, it looked like the economy was moving into top gear. Now we realise it was changing down.

You’d think that would be bad enough for those tireless in their search for bad news. But, no, they delved around in the fine print and discovered that real GDP per person actually fell by 0.2 per cent in the December quarter and by 0.2 per cent in the previous quarter.

So, that must mean we’re in a “GPD per capita recession”. Eureka! Much scarier. (And saying it in Latin rather than English makes it even more so.)

Making it more entertaining obscures the truth, of course, but you can’t have everything.

Speaking of truth, let me give you a tip: any “recession” that has to be qualified by an adjective ain’t the real deal.

The more excitable end of the economy-watchers – the financial markets and the media – is always looking for an excuse to shock mum by using the ultimate in economic bad language, the r-word. Over the years they’ve given us “technical” recessions, “manufacturing” recessions, “growth” recessions and now “per capita” recessions.

There is no science behind the notion that two successive quarters of “negative growth” – contraction – equal a God-given licence to use the r-word. It’s no more than a rule of thumb, whose one virtue is that it allows the over-excitable to shout Recession! within seconds of seeing a new set of figures, when they really should look and wait for more convincing information.

It’s no more than circumstantial evidence, when you can’t find the body or the murder weapon. No economist I know is comfortable with it as a way of judging whether we really are in recession.

What they know is that, as a test, it delivers too many false readings. Because it’s so arbitrary, it can tell you you’ve got a recession when you don’t, or tell you you don’t when you do.

The national accounts’ first stab at measuring the growth during a quarter is so rough and ready, and will be changed so many times before it stabilises, that two successive negative quarters can easily be revised out of existence.

The real world is too messy for such simple rules of thumb to be reliable.

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg tweeted that “in 2000 and 2006 the Howard government had consecutive quarters of negative GDP per capita growth, and Rudd and Gillard had five negative quarters”.

And all this while our record period of continuous economic growth – now up to 27 years – remained unbroken. See what I mean about false positives?

But even if you do use the successive-quarters test, you’re supposed to apply it to the whole economy, not just to the bit that happens to qualify.

That’s why Scott Morrison was justified in dismissing the “per capita recession” as “made-up statistics”. The figures may have been calculated by the bureau, but it didn’t say anything about recession. That notion was spread by the media.

The bureau calculates about eight different versions of GDP (page 21 of the release). The excitables ignored the six that didn’t show two successive minuses, and zeroed in on one of the two that did. It was a contrivance in search of a headline.

The various versions of GDP are calculated to answer different questions. GDP per person is not designed to tell us whether we’re in recession. It’s designed to show how much of the growth in the economy is coming just from population increase rather than rising prosperity.

Making it a useful indicator. For instance, Frydenberg boasted that “Australia continues to grow faster than all of the G7 nations except the United States”.

True, but GDP per person tells us why. It’s because our population’s growing so much faster than theirs. (Of course, if you’re looking for a job, the growth caused by a higher population should make it easier.)

Admittedly, GDP per person is often used as a measure of what’s happening to the standard of living. But it’s a terribly crude measure. Which is why economists agree that one of the other measures, “real net national disposable income per person”, is the best you’ll get just by modifying GDP itself.

Trouble is, it shows the income of households growing by 0.8 per cent in December and by 2.1 per cent over the year. Wouldn’t get a headline out of that.

Time for a reality check: why is it that the r-word strikes fear into the minds of ordinary people? Because they know that genuine recessions involve falling employment and rapidly rising unemployment. Businesses fail, people lose their jobs, and the rest of us fear we’ll be next.

Any sign of that happening? No. The reverse, in fact. Using the bureau’s “trend” (smoothed) figures, over the six months to December, employment increased by 175,000, with 87 per cent of the extra jobs being full-time, and the proportion of people aged 15 and over with jobs at a record 62.4 per cent.

The unemployment rate fell by 0.3 percentage points to 5.1 per cent and the under-employment rate fell 0.2 points 8.7 per cent.

That’s how terrible a per capita recession is.

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Back to the future: Keynes can lift us out of stagnation

Every so often the economies of the developed world malfunction, behaving in ways the economists’ theory says they shouldn’t. Economists fall to arguing among themselves about the causes of the breakdown and what should be done. We’re in such a period now.

It’s called “secular stagnation” and it’s characterised by weak growth – in the economy, in consumer spending, in business investment and in productivity improvement. This is accompanied by low price inflation and wage growth, and low real interest rates.

Let me warn you: the last time the advanced economies went haywire, it took the world’s economists about a decade to decide why their policies of managing the macro economy were no longer working and to reach consensus around a new policy approach.

That was in the mid-1970s, when the first OPEC oil-price shock brought to a head the problem of “stagflation” – high unemployment combined with high inflation – a problem the prevailing Keynesian orthodoxy said you couldn’t have.

The Keynesians’ “Phillips curve” said unemployment and inflation were logical opposites. If you had a lot of one, you wouldn’t have much of the other.

The developed world’s econocrats lost faith in Keynesianism and flirted with Milton Friedman’s “monetarism” – which was just a tarted-up version of the “neo-classical” orthodoxy that had prevailed until the Great Depression of the 1930s.

That was the previous time the economics profession fell to arguing among itself. Why? Because neo-classical economics said the Depression couldn’t happen, and had no solution to the slump bar the (counter-productive) notion that governments should balance their budgets.

It was John Maynard Keynes who, in his book The General Theory, published in 1936, explained what was wrong with neo-classical macro-economics, explained how the Depression had happened and advocated a solution: if the private sector wasn’t generating sufficient demand, the government should take its place by borrowing and spending.

In the period after World War II, almost all economists – and econocrats – became Keynesians. Until the advent of stagflation.

Notice a pattern? We start out with neo-classical thinking, then dump it for Keynesianism when it can’t explain the Depression. Then, when Keynesianism can’t explain stagflation, we dump it and revert to neo-classicism.

Enter Dr Mike Keating, a former top econocrat, who thinks the present crisis of stagnation means it’s time to dump neo-classicism and revert to Keynesianism.

Why do economists have rival theories and keep flipping between them? Because neither theory can explain every development in the economy, but both contain large elements of truth.

So it’s not so much a question of which theory is right, more a question of which is best at explaining and solving our present problem, as opposed to our last big problem.

I think there’s much to be said for this more eclectic, horses-for-courses approach. There’s no one right model. Rather, economists have a host of different models in their toolbox, and should pull out of the box the model that best fits the particular problem they’re dealing with.

And much is to be said for Keating’s argument that we need a different economic strategy to help us into the 21st century. Got a problem with stagnation? The tradesman you need to call is Keynes.

Although the rich economies are in a lot better shape than they were during the Depression – mainly because, in the global financial crisis of 2008, governments knew to apply Keynesian stimulus - Keating sees similarities between the two periods of economic and economists’ dysfunction.

In this context, the key difference between the rival theories is their differing approaches to supply and demand.

Neo-classical economics assumes the action is always on the supply side. Something called Say’s Law tells us supply creates its own demand, so get supply right and demand will look after itself.

The modern incarnation of this is “the three Ps”. In the end, economic growth is determined by the economy’s potential capacity to produce goods and services, and our “potential” growth rate is determined by the growth in population, participation and productivity improvement (with the last being the most important).

By contrast, Keynesianism is about fixing the problem Say’s Law says we can never have: deficient demand. Insufficient demand was what kept us trapped in the Depression. Keating argues the fundamental cause of our present stagnation is deficient demand, and the solution is to get demand moving again.

Back in the stagflation of the 1970s, however, the problem wasn’t deficient demand. It was the supply side of the economy’s inability to produce all the goods and services people were demanding, thus generating much inflation pressure.

After realising that Friedman’s targeting of the money supply didn’t work, the rich world’s eventual solution to the problem was what we in Australia called “micro-economic reform” – reduced protection and government regulation of industries, so as to increase competition within industries and spur greater productive efficiency and productivity improvement, thus increasing our rate of “potential” growth.

Keating – who, with another bloke of the same name, played a big part in making those early reforms – insists they worked well and left us with a more flexible, less inflation-prone economy. True.

By now, however, assuming you can fix a problem of deficient demand by chasing greater competition and improved productivity just shows you haven’t understood the deeper causes of the problem.

But when Keating advocates a new economic strategy of demand management, he doesn’t just mean governments borrowing and spending a lot of money now to give demand a short-term boost.

He mainly means a new kind of micro reform that, by increasing the income going to those likely to spend a higher proportion of it, and by lifting our education and training performance to help workers cope with new technology, ensures demand strengthens and stays strong in the years to come.

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The economy isn’t in trouble, but let’s cut interest rates anyway

Rather than merely acknowledging that the next move in interest rates is as likely to be down as up, I think the Reserve Bank should get on with cutting them. But not for the reason you may imagine.

There are plenty of people – many of them in the media – silly enough to believe a fall in interest rates is always good, and a rise always bad. They have a mortgage-centred view of the universe.

They forget that lower rates are bad news for people living off their savings – or saving for a home deposit.

More particularly, they forget that central banks use interest rates to keep the economy on an even keel. Judged the conventional way, central banks cut interest rates when they judge the economy to be weak or weakening.

So, even for those with mortgages, a cut in rates is no reason to celebrate. They’ll be paying less interest, sure, but only because, in the econocrats’ judgement, there’s now a greater risk they’ll lose their job, be put on a short working week, or go for year or two without a pay rise.

Is that what you’re hoping for? I’m not. Nor do I think it’s our certain fate. The biggest risk we face is talking ourselves into a downturn – for no better reason than it would be something new to talk about.

Telling ourselves that a fall in house prices – something we’ve experienced many times before and lived to tell the tale – is the start of an avalanche.

Or, when Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe moves from saying the next move in rates is up, to saying the chances are evenly balanced between up and down, leaping to the conclusion he’s really saying a cut is imminent.

It isn’t. It isn’t because, as he made plain in a speech on Wednesday – and reiterated in the statement on monetary policy on Friday – he remains confident the economy has slowed a bit, but no worse. His revised forecast is for the economy to grow by an above-trend 3 per cent this year.

And a rate cut isn’t imminent because he said it wasn’t. “[The board] does not see a strong case for a near-term change in the cash rate. We are in the position of being able to maintain the current policy setting while we assess the shifts in the global economy and the strength of household spending.”

He also said that “what we are seeing looks to be a manageable adjustment in the housing market”.

So a rate cut isn’t imminent. According to Lowe, a cut would require “a sustained increase in the unemployment rate”. Which, judged by conventional standards, is good news. It means he believes the economy will continue plugging on.

But my point is different. Lowe is pursuing a conventional, business-as-usual approach to managing the economy because he assumes nothing fundamental has changed.

His conventional thinking is that it’s weak wage growth that’s driving the economy’s relative stagnation. It hasn’t occurred to him it’s the other way round: the economy’s stagnation is the cause of weak wage growth.

I think it’s clear the phenomenon of “secular (that is, long-lasting) stagnation” – exceptionally low inflation, low wage growth, low real interest rates, low business investment, low productivity improvement and low economic growth – applies to our economy as well as to the United States and the other advanced economies.

Every symptom on that list applies to us (bar the long-past mining investment boom). And stagnation isn’t a bad way to describe our position, where growth over the 10 financial years since the global financial crisis has averaged less than 2.6 per cent a year and only one year (2011-12) has been above trend.

One thing that’s become clear in America and other advanced economies is that secular stagnation – the causes of which economists are still debating – has caused conventional estimates of the NAIRU (“non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment” – the lowest rate to which unemployment can fall before wage and price inflation begin to worsen) to be far too high.

In those countries, unemployment has fallen well below where the NAIRU (sounds a bit like the island) was thought to be, without any sign of price inflation or excessive wage growth.

The same can be said of us. The Reserve estimates our NAIRU to be “about 5 per cent”. Our actual unemployment rate has been at 5 per cent or so for some months, while the latest reading for underlying inflation is 1.75 per cent and for the wage price index is 2.2 per cent.

So, we’re at the supposed NAIRU without the slightest sign of inflation pressure. Indeed, underlying inflation has been below the 2 to 3 per cent target range since the end of 2015, and Lowe is forecasting it won’t get up into the target range until the end of next year.

This suggests that, in our newly stagnant world, the true NAIRU is a lot lower: 4.5 per cent, maybe 4 per cent. And since, as Lowe reminds us, the RBA’s objectives include “delivering on full employment”, he should be trying harder to get unemployment down to the true NAIRU.

How? By using the one instrument available to him: cutting interest rates to loosen a monetary policy that’s tighter than it needs to be.

Until recently, Lowe’s best reason for not lowering rates was a desire to avoid adding fuel to the boom in house prices (“asset-price inflation”). But now that constraint has lifted, there’s no reason to hesitate.

You could argue that, with households already so loaded with debt, a rate cut may not do much to boost consumer spending. But it probably would lower the dollar, which would improve our industries’ price competitiveness internationally, encouraging them to hire more workers. We’ve got little to lose.

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Hey pollies: weak wage growth won't fix itself

The economy’s prospects are threatened by various risks from overseas – about which we can do little – and by continuing weakness in wage growth – about which the two sides contesting the May federal election have little desire to talk.

In his major economic speech last week, Scott Morrison gave wages only a passing mention: “by focusing on delivering a strong economy we create the right environment for wages growth, which we are now beginning to see, and more will follow”.

Actually, you need a microscope to see any improvement. The microscope shows that most of it is explained by the Fair Work Commission’s hefty 3.5 per cent increase in minimum wage rates last June.

(And why was it so generous? To offset the effect on pay packets of its earlier decision to phase down Sunday penalty rates.)

Not, however, that Bill Shorten has had a lot more than Morrison to say about the causes and cure of weak wage growth. Presumably, Shorten fears that anything he says about changes to wage fixing will be used to feed yet another scare campaign about him being a patsy for a union takeover.

Two or three years ago, I was happy to entertain the view still publicly espoused by the Reserve Bank (and still happily hidden behind by Morrison) that the wage problem was simply cyclical: wages are taking longer than expected to recover from the ups and downs of the resources boom but, be patient, they’ll come good soon enough.

Sorry, that possible explanation gets harder to believe as each quarter passes without any sign of nominal wage growth moving ahead of weak inflation, so as to give employees their rightful share of the improvement we’ve achieved in the productivity of their labour.

(And thus – ScoMo please note - giving the boost to real household disposable income, then consumer spending and then business investment spending, that has always been the greatest single contributor to “delivering a strong economy”.)

No, as years pass without the cycle restoring real wage growth, it becomes easier to believe the problem arises from some deeper issue with the structure of the economy.

The most popular structural explanation – best espoused by Professor Joe Isaac, an eminent labour economist – is that the “reform” of wage fixing went too far in shifting the balance of industrial bargaining power in favour of employers.

Isaac’s various proposals for reforming the reform – including restoring unions’ right of entry to the workplace, reducing the rigmarole before workers can strike, and restoring permission for industry-wide bargaining – would no doubt have crossed Labor’s mind for serious consideration should it win the election.

But another noted labour economist, former top econocrat Dr Mike Keating, has his doubts. He says he has no great objection to Isaac’s wage-fixing reforms, but doubts they’ll get wages moving because the structural problem is much deeper.

As argued in detail in his book with Professor Stephen Bell, Fair Share, and many articles and blogs, Keating sees our wages problem in the much broader context of the malaise of “secular stagnation” that’s been gripping the US and other advanced economies for at least a decade.

Keating reminds us that wage growth has been weak in most of the advanced economies for several decades, accompanied by rising inequality.

The distribution of earnings (that is, wages, rather than income from all sources) has become more unequal, Keating argues, mainly because of technological change and, to a lesser extent, globalisation.

Technological change has been “skill-biased”, with strong growth in high-skilled employment, and reasonable growth in unskilled jobs, but a decline in middle-level jobs, where routine jobs are being done by computers.

The result is a change in the structure of employment, one which increases earnings inequality. If so, it’s not a problem that could be fixed by higher wage-rates.

Keating says we’ve been slow in Australia to see what’s increasingly been realised overseas and by the international economic agencies: income inequality is bad for economic growth (mainly because the high-paid save rather than spend a higher proportion of their incomes).

But Keating’s more fundamental policy response to the problem of technology-driven weak wage growth and increased inequality is enhanced education and training, to help workers adjust to the challenges posed by new technologies, as well as spur the adoption of those technologies.

He’d give priority to early childhood learning and life-long learning through the TAFE system. He's happy to note this would require us to pay more tax rather than less – another thought the pollies don’t want us thinking about right now.

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Unhealthy, unhappy lives aren't fair exchange for higher incomes

In his Australia Day address, social researcher Hugh Mackay said that "the Australia I love today – this sleep-deprived, overweight, overmedicated, anxious, smartphone-addicted society – is a very different place from the Australia I used to love".

He identified three big changes: the gender revolution, increasing disparity in wealth, and social fragmentation.

He approves of the first, but laments that we’re "learning to live with a chasm of income inequality" and that social fragmentation means Australians are become "more individualistic, more materialistic, more competitive".

The third big change, he said, posed the biggest challenge – preserving social cohesion.

Earlier this month, the playwright David Williamson lamented that, since the advent of neoliberalism, "the world has become a nastier, more competitive, more ruthless place".

"There’s no perfect society, but I don’t think it needs to be as brutal as it is now."

As we move on from our officially required season of national navel-gazing – "yes, but what does it mean to be Australian?" – these concerns are worth pondering.

Economists object to being blamed for every ill that’s beset our country in the past 40 years. Where’s the proof that this economic policy or that has caused a worsening in mental health, they demand to be told.

It’s true that few developments in society have just a single cause. It’s also true there’s little hard evidence that the A of “microeconomic reform” caused the B of more suicides, for instance.

But there’s a lot of circumstantial evidence. After all, the specific objective of micro reform was to increase economic efficiency by making our markets more intensely competitive. The economists’ basic model views us as individuals, motivated by self-interest, and the goal of faster growth in the economy is aimed at raising our material standard of living.

And if some of our problems stem from changing technology – pursuing friendship via screens, for instance – can economists disclaim all responsibility when one of their stated aims is to encourage technological advance in the name of higher productivity?

Economists assume that economic growth will leave us all better off. Most take little interest in how evenly or unevenly the additional income is shared between households.

The Productivity Commission’s recent and frequently quoted report, finding that the distribution of income hasn’t become more unequal, refers to recent years, not the past 40. And the report averages away the uncomfortable truth that the incomes of chief executives and other members of the top 1 per cent have increased many times faster than for the rest of us.

Sometimes what’s happened since the mid-1980s reminds me of the old advertisement: are you smoking more, but enjoying it less?

Our real incomes have grown considerably over the years – even for people at the bottom – and economic reform can take a fair bit of the credit. It can take most of the credit for the remarkable truth that, unlike all the other rich countries, we’ve gone for 27 years without our least fortunate experiencing the great economic and social pain of recession and mass job loss.

But though most of us are earning and spending more than ever, there’s evidence we’re enjoying it less. Our higher material living standards have come at the cost of increasing social and health problems.

Is that so hard to believe when the key driver of our higher incomes is more intense competition between us?

Economists generally take little interest in social and health problems, regarding them as outside their field. But though problems such as loneliness, stress, anxiety, depression and obesity were with us long before the arrival of neoliberalism, they seem to have got worse since the mid-1980s.

Last year, Dr Michelle Lim, a clinical psychologist at Swinburne University, and her colleagues produced the Australian Loneliness Report, which found that more than one in four Australians feels lonely three or more days a week.

It’s most common among those who are single, separated or divorced. Compared to other Australians, the lonely report higher social anxiety and depression, poorer psychological health and quality of life, and fewer meaningful relationships and social interactions.

Turning to increased stress, it’s an inevitable consequence of living in bigger, faster cities and working in more competitive workplaces. Our bodies respond to stressful events with a surge of adrenaline, which increases our reaction speed and helps ensure our survival.

Trouble is, our bodies aren’t designed to cope with repeated stressful events and adrenaline rushes. Our readiness for fight or flight doesn’t decline, and we remain permanently aroused, which damages our health, making us more at risk of a heart attack or getting sick in other ways.

If more "jobs and growth" and the higher incomes they bring are intended to make us happier, maybe governments would do better by us if they switched their objective from increasing happiness to reducing unhappiness.

For instance, if the banks are now being criticised on all sides for putting profits before people, why are governments – facing an epidemic of obesity and diabetes - so respectful of the food and beverage industry’s right to continue fatten its profits by fattening us and our kids?

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You'd be surprised what's propping up our living standard

It’s the last lazy long weekend before the year really gets started, making it a good time to ponder a question that’s trickier than it seems: where has our wealth come from?

The question comes from a reader.

“Australia has been without a recession for 25 or more years, the economy seems booming to me, just by looking around: employment, housing prices, explosive building in major capitals, etc. Where is the wealth coming from? Mining? Other exports? Because the resources have to come from somewhere,” he writes.

That’s the first thing he’s got right: it’s not money that matters (the central bank can create as much of that stuff as it sees fit) it’s what money is used to buy: access to “real resources” – which economists summarise as land (including minerals and other raw materials), labour and (physical) capital.

But here’s the first surprise: of those three, when you trace it right back, probably the most important resource is labour – all the work we do.

The first complication, however, is the word “wealth”, which can mean different things. It’s best used to refer to the value of the community’s assets: its housing, other land and works of art, the equipment, structures and intellectual property owned by businesses (part of which is represented by capitalised value of shares on the stock exchange), plus publicly owned infrastructure (railways, roads, bridges and so forth) and structures.

To get net wealth you subtract any debts or other liabilities acquired in the process of amassing the wealth. In the case of a national economy, the debts we owe each other cancel out, leaving what we owe to foreigners. (According to our national balance sheet, as calculated by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, at June last year our assets totalled $15.4 trillion, less net liabilities to the rest of the world of $3.5 trillion.)

But often the word wealth is used to refer to our annual income, the total value of goods and services produced in the market during a year, as measured by gross domestic product (which in the year to June was $1.8 trillion).

The people in an economy generate income by applying their labour to land and physical capital, to produce myriad goods and services. Most of these they sell to each other, but some of which they sell to foreigners. Why? So they can buy other countries’ exports of goods and services.

Only about 20 per cent of our income comes from selling stuff to foreigners and only 20 per cent or so of the stuff we buy comes from foreigners. This exchange leaves us better off when we sell the stuff we’re better at producing than they are, and buy the stuff they’re better at than we are.

Much of what we sell to foreigners is minerals and energy we pull from the ground and food and fibres we grow in the ground. So it’s true that a fair bit of our wealth is explained by what economists call our “natural endowment”, though it’s also true that we’re much more skilled at doing the mining and farming than most other countries are.

Speaking of skills, the more skilled our workers are – the better educated and trained – the greater our income and wealth. Economists call this “human capital” – and it’s worth big bucks to us.

How do the people in an economy add a bit more to their wealth each year? Mainly by saving some of their income rather than consuming it all. We save not just through bank accounts, but by slowly paying off our mortgages and putting 9.5 per cent of our wages into superannuation.

It’s the role of the financial sector to lend our savings to people wanting to invest in the assets we count as wealth: homes, business structures and equipment and public infrastructure. So if most of our annual income comes from wages, most of our savings come from wage income and our savings finance much of the investment in additional assets.

But because our natural endowment and human capital give us more investment opportunities that can be financed from our savings, we long have called on the savings of foreigners to allow us to invest more in new productive assets each year than we could without their participation.

Some of the foreigners’ savings come as “equity investment” – their ownership of Australian businesses and a bit of our real estate – but much of it is just borrowed. These days, however, our companies’ (and super funds’) ownership of businesses or shares in businesses in other countries is worth roughly as much as foreigners’ equity investments in Oz, meaning all our net liability to the rest of the world is debt.

Naturally, the foreigners have to be rewarded for the savings they’ve sunk into our economy. We pay them about $60 billion a year in interest and dividends, on top of the interest and dividends they pay us.

The main thing we get in return for this foreign investment in our economy is more jobs (and thus wage income) than we’d otherwise have, plus the taxes the foreigners pay.

People worry we can’t go on forever getting wealthy by digging up our minerals and flogging them off to foreigners. It’s true we may one day run out of stuff to sell, but our reserves – proved and yet to be proved – are so huge that day is maybe a century away (and the world will have stopped buying our coal long before we run out).

A bigger worry is the damage we’re doing to our natural environment in the meantime, which should be counted as reducing our wealth, but isn’t.

But mining activity accounts for a smaller part of our high standard of living than most people imagine – only about 8 per cent of our annual income.

Most of our prosperity – our wealth, if you like – derives from the skill, enterprise and technology-enhanced hard work of our people.

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Squaring the world's waste circle ain't that easy

If you think we’ve been standing still – even going backwards – on reconciling the economy with the natural environment, that’s not wholly true. While our refusal to get real on climate change drags on, we’ve started our journey to the nirvana of a “circular economy”.

Never heard the term? Heard of it, but not sure what it means? Really? It’s the great intellectual fashion statement of 2018.

And, since it has more merit than I suspect many of its advocates realise, we must hope it doesn’t fall out of fashion long before it’s done any good.

Governments around the world are doing things about it. Mainly, saying what a nice idea it is, writing reports and designing “road maps”.

The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development has taken up the cause in its RE-CIRCLE project. And no lesser bunch of worthies than the World Economic Forum (the Davos brigade) is enthusiastic.

Here in Oz, last year saw a favourable report from a Senate committee. The Victorian, South Australian and NSW governments have recently signalled their support, with the latter issuing a “circular economy policy statement” in October.

Some of my information comes from an explainer by the Victorian Parliamentary Library, written as recently as October. Circularity is hot, hot, hot.

The explainer explains that, as presently organised, market economies are linear. You take natural resources, process them into many and varied goods – from food to fancy electronic gizmos – which you and I consume before eventually disposing of them. Then we take more natural resources and start the process again.

In contrast, the goal of a circular economy is to keep natural resources in use for as long as possible, extract the maximum value from them while in use, then recover and regenerate products and materials at the end of their serviceable life.

Get it? The ultimate goal is to “decouple” economic growth from the consumption of natural resources.

The OECD points out that, over the last century, global use of raw materials grew at almost twice the rate that the population grew.

To minimise the – to some extent irreparable - damage that economic activity does to the natural environment, we need to ensure it involves less net use of natural resources.

The idea that natural resources should be recycled is one Australians – and people throughout the rich world – happily embraced ages ago. Almost all of us divide our garbage between recycling and the rest before we put it out.

But the concept of a truly circular economy requires us to go a lot further than that. We need to repair the durable products we use rather than throwing them out and buying another.

But that means changing the design of those products from disposable to repairable – and upgradeable. It means making much greater use of recycled materials in the manufacture of “new” products, as well as doing something sensible about all that packaging.

In my limited reading of all the circular economy bumf, I haven’t seen it explained that the basic problem arises from the first law of thermodynamics, which says that matter can be transformed from one form to another, but can be neither created nor destroyed.

In other words, something has to happen to all the natural resources we use to produce and consume. They don’t cease to exist, they just change form. They turn into multiple forms of waste, which we dispose of down the sewer and in landfill.

One important form of waste created by the economic process – particularly if it involves burning fossil fuels – is the emission of greenhouse gases. For more than 200 years we couldn’t see this happening, so we didn’t think it was a problem.

Now we know the gases hang around in the upper atmosphere, trap the earth’s heat from the sun like the roof of a greenhouse, and raise the earth’s temperature.

When you consider how much trouble we’re having agreeing on a solution to that small part of our waste problem, don’t kid yourself dealing with the rest of the waste will be a simple matter of everyone seeing the light and doing the right thing with a bit of encouragement from the government.

What worries me about the circular-economy push is not the objective – it’s dead right - it’s the naivety of those doing the pushing. They want to radically transform the economy, but haven’t seen the need to consult any economists about how you might go about it.

All the governments know better, of course, but they seem to have decided that, as long as it stays on the level of appealing to people to Do The Right Thing, it could keep the greenies diverted without doing much harm.

No one seems to have asked the obvious question: just why is the economy presently linear not circular? Answer: because all the powerful economic incentives push us in that direction.

Because the resources the environmentally aware care about – natural resources – are relatively cheap, whereas the resource they don’t think about, but everyone else does, labour, is relatively dear.

Why do you think the nation’s local councils have been taking most of our recycling and shipping it off to China? Because processing that stuff in a rich country like ours is uneconomic.

Why have the Chinese been taking it? Because their wages were low enough to make processing profitable (that is, economic).

Why have the Chinese now stopped taking it? Because their economic success has raised wage rates and made it no longer profitable.

So, how on earth could we make our economy circular?

Ask economists to figure out a plausible way of reversing our incentive structure. That's the kind of job they do when asked.

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In poor countries income does trickle down

Try this test of your economic literacy: has world poverty decreased or increased since 1990? If you said decreased, congratulations. You’re smarter than the average bear.

If you were sure it had increased, you’re the victim of a news media gone overboard in indulging your preference for bad news over good.

A lot of bad things are happening in the world, but also some really good things, and we immiserate ourselves when we fail to give them the notice they deserve.

In October the Word Bank issued a report announcing that world poverty had fallen in the two years to 2015. But since this was the continuation of a longstanding trend, the media took little notice.

So let me give it the fanfare it deserves. World poverty has been falling continuously – and rapidly - for the past quarter century. In 1990, 36 per cent of the world’s population lived in extreme poverty, but by 2015 this had fallen to 10 per cent – the lowest in recorded history.

This means the number of people living in extreme poverty has fallen by a billion, from almost 2 billion to 736 million. And that really does make it “one of the greatest human achievements of our time”.

The World Bank defines extreme poverty as living on less than $US1.90 a day, which has been adjusted for the US dollar’s differing purchasing power in different countries in 2011.

But how did this great achievement come about? It’s the result of rapid economic growth in the developing countries over the past three decades, particularly in China (and its trading partners in east Asia) and India (and other south Asian countries, including Bangladesh).

These countries have made no herculean efforts to redistribute income from the rich to the poor, they’ve just grown a lot over a sustained period. Which makes the fall in poverty in these countries a fabulous advertisement for the benefits of market economies and freer trade between countries.

And it’s a reminder that, in poor countries at least, a fair bit of the income generated by economic growth does trickle down to those at the bottom. Low-income households also benefit as more of the country’s income is spent on increasing primary education and spreading access to electricity, decent water and sanitation.

Actually, lower-income households in Australia have benefited from our 27 years of continuous economic growth, with their incomes growing quite strongly in real terms. That’s because of employment growing faster than the working-age population, wages growing faster than prices (until five years ago) and pensions (but not the dole) being indexed to wages.

But real wage and pension growth occur because of government policy. And since, in truth, tax cuts for companies and high income-earners do little to boost the economy and employment, their benefits don’t trickle down to any great extent.

Back to the point. Though the rate of extreme poverty has fallen in all the world’s regions since 1990, it’s fallen only a bit in Sub-Saharan Africa, while its population has continued growing strongly.

This means the Sub-Sahara now accounts for more than half the 736 million people remaining in extreme poverty, with south Asia accounting for a further quarter. It’s been largely eliminated in east Asia and the other regions.

If India’s present strong economic growth continues, its share of world poverty will fall away. The World Bank projects that, by 2030, Sub-Saharan Africa will account for nearly nine out of 10 of the world’s extreme poor.

Globally, poor people live overwhelmingly in rural areas and have lots of children. Judge poverty not by people’s income but by their access to education, electricity, water and sanitation, and the proportion in rural areas is even higher.

Note that the World Bank’s austere “international poverty line” of $US1.90 a day is an absolute measure of poverty. You work out the value of goods needed to barely stay alive, then adjust it for inflation over time, ignoring what’s happening to the incomes of the better-off.

By contrast, in rich countries like ours we measure relative poverty: how are real incomes at the bottom (often defined as half the median income) travelling relative to those around the middle and at the top?

So absolute poverty falls whenever low incomes grow faster than inflation whereas, for a fall in relative poverty, the real incomes of the poor need to grow at a faster rate than everyone else’s.

This, by the way, explains why absolute poverty in China and India can fall even while income inequality – the gap between rich and poor – increases. As it usually has.

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The great drawback from 27 years of economic sunshine

Talk about ingratitude. It’s enough to make a grown economist cry. The nation’s dismal scientists labour mightily to produce almost three decades of continuous economic growth, and few people care.

In April this year a venerable crowd called CEDA – the Committee for Economic Development of Australia, the gentlepersonly end of big business – conducted an online survey of almost 3000 people from all states, asking for their thoughts on the economy.

Asked whether they’d gained from 26 years of uninterrupted economic growth – actually, it’s now ticked up to 27 years – only 5 per cent said they’d gained a lot, with 40 per cent admitting they’d gained “a little”.

That left 40 per cent saying they’d gained nothing and 11 per cent who didn’t know. This is deeply shocking for most economists, who hold as their highest article of faith the belief that the public is crying out for unceasing and rapid growth in the size of the economy – by which they mean an ever-rising material living standard.

But if you and I gained little from all the economic growth, who do we think gained a lot? Well, 74 per cent thought large corporations had, but only 8 per cent thought small and medium-sized businesses had.

Just over half of us thought foreign shareholders gained a lot, whereas only 31 per cent thought Australian shareholders did.

Almost three-quarters of us thought senior executives had gained a lot, a third thought white-collar workers did well, and only 12 per cent thought blue-collar workers did.

These answers don’t add up. They reveal that the public’s understanding of how the economy fits together is confused.

While it’s probably true that big businesses are, on average, more profitable than smaller businesses, it’s a mistake to think big business has been coining it over the past three decades, with most of small business struggling. Were that true we’d have heard a lot more howls of complaint.

It’s true that our mining companies did exceptionally well from the resources boom, and that those companies are about 80 per cent foreign owned, but mining accounts for only 6 per cent of the economy. Looking overall, foreign owners would account for more like a third of businesses. And it’s wrong to think foreign shareholders get a better deal than local shareholders.

People often forget that, when you trace it through, the shares in Australia’s big listed companies are owned mainly by Australians with superannuation and other savings for retirement. So, if big companies have done well over recent decades, that means yours and my super balances are a lot higher than they were. This not a gain?

It’s true that the incomes of senior executives have grown a lot faster than the rest of us over recent decades. But with a workforce of 12.6 million, that’s just a relative handful. Say there are 400 big companies. If each of those has 10 people on million-plus salaries, that’s just 4000 of them.

Make it 40,000 and you’re still not talking about many people. Enough to be envious of but, arithmetically, not enough to make a big difference. Were we to take their millions off them, there wouldn’t be enough to give the remaining 12.6 million of us much more than a small pay rise.

In other polling, many people – even many West Australians – say they have nothing to show for the much-trumpeted resources boom. Do you remember the four or five years before 2015 when the dollar was worth a bit less or a bit more than $US1? It was up there because of the resources boom. And, whether or not they realise it or remember it, the many people who took the opportunity to go on an overseas holiday or three were getting their cut from the boom.

What’s the bet all those people with seniors cards, paying only nominal amounts to use public transport, think they’ve gained little over the decades? The aged have done a lot better, mainly because of changes made by the Howard government. And that’s before you count the rising value of their homes and investment properties.

It’s the young who are much more justified in lacking gratitude.

Speaking of which, most people don’t get the point when reminded of our 27 years of uninterrupted economic growth. It doesn’t mean we’ve had twice the growth other countries have had, and so should all be rolling in it. We’ve had more, but not a huge amount more.

No, what it really means is that the others have had three or so severe recessions in that time – including the Great Recession – and we haven’t.

The one great drawback of going for so long without a recession is that so many people have no experience of how much harm and hurt they cause – how depressing they are – while others have forgotten it.

Still, voters have precious little gratitude to give politicians and bureaucrats, and absolutely none for what amounts to the absence of something that would have been terrible. And anything good that happens to us, we soon take for granted.

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Why Morrison has changed his tune on immigration

Wow. And you thought the punters had no political power. Scott Morrison’s change of tune on population growth – following on the heels of NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian – will please a lot of ordinary voters and enrage big business.

Be clear on this: almost to a man or woman, the nation’s business people, economists, Coalition politicians and Labor politicians have long believed in high rates of immigration, going back to the days of “populate or perish”.

They still do. They’ll have one dismissive, contemptuous word for the Liberal Party’s seeming backflip – “populism”.

By contrast, the public has long had reservations about immigration, going back to Chinese joining the gold rush and, as the movie Ladies in Black reminds us, to post-war resentment of “reffos” (not to mention dagoes and wogs).

It’s quite possible Gladys had a word in the ear of Scott, but I have no doubt both are reacting to results from their party’s private polling and focus groups. (If so, Labor politicians would be getting a similar message.)

That would explain their changed thinking on the topic. Their sudden sensitivity to popular opinion may be explained also by the proximity of elections in Victoria, NSW and federally.

Morrison is nothing if not direct. He’s left no doubt that this is a Sydney and Melbourne special. In the reduction in the size of the annual national permanent migration program he says he expects to emerge from the review, NSW and Victoria may wish to have fewer migrants, while other states may wish to have more.

Whether such picking-and-choosing is practically possible will be a matter for the experts to debate. Sydney and Melbourne are natural entry points of migrants. They have more jobs going, and immigrants are more likely to have relatives, friends and communities already established there. The two big cities’ businesses are likely to want to sponsor more skilled workers.

Before we leave elections, a cautionary tale from the 2010 federal election. Early that year, Kevin Rudd brought forward the next Intergenerational Report, showing the population was projected to reach 36 million by 2050. Rudd proudly proclaimed himself a Big Australia man – which, among other benefits, would give Australia (and him) more clout at international forums.

Then came the backlash. By the time of the election in July, both Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott were loudly proclaiming their opposition to Big Australia.

But here’s the point: after Gillard’s election in 2010 and Abbott’s in 2013, nothing was heard again about the evils of Big Australia. Immigration continued on its merry way.

If the public has always had reservations about immigration, what’s brought matters to a head?

Again, Morrison is direct. Though population growth has played a key role in our economic success, he says, “I also know that Australians in our biggest cities are concerned about population. They are saying: enough, enough, enough.

“The roads are clogged, the buses and trains are full. The schools are taking no more enrolments. I hear what you are saying. I hear you loud and clear.”

So, in a word, resentment over congestion has brought simmering disapproval to a rolling boil.
But I suspect there’s a further factor.

Because the establishment’s enthusiasm for high immigration has always been at odds with the public’s instincts, there was for many years a tacit agreement between both sides of politics not to wake up the question of immigration.

Want to know why this nation of immigrants has never had a formally established population policy? That’s why. (I know because once, during the Fraser government’s time, I wrote in my naivety that we needed a great big debate about immigration and population. The immigration minister immediately slapped me down, almost accusing me of racism.)

That bipartisanship has broken down as politicians realised there were cheap votes to be had by echoing the public’s objection to “too many Asians”. When asylum seekers started arriving by boat, it was on for young and old between the parties.

John Howard allowed very high levels of immigration during his almost 12 years in office – the population was growing by 2 per cent a year at the end of his reign – but the public’s disapproval never boiled over.

Why not? Perhaps because traffic congestion wasn’t as bad as it is today. But my theory is that, while coping with the genuine problem of boat people, Howard also used them to draw the public’s attention away from high levels of conventional immigration. Sometimes you even hear political candidates claiming its boat people who are clogging the roads.

But now there are no boat people arriving – not, we belatedly discover, because none are setting out, but because of our navy’s success in turning them back – this diversionary tactic is no longer available. The voters’ ire turns back to ordinary immigrants.

But what of the much-touted economic benefits of immigration? Business people want a bigger population because having more people to sell to is the easiest way to increase their profits. But that doesn’t necessarily leave you and me better off.

The traditional fear that immigrants take our jobs is wrong – they add about as much to the demand for labour as to its supply.

Immigration does slow down the ageing of our population, but most of the other efforts to show how much benefit it brings the rest of us rest on economic modelling exercises using convenient assumptions. I hae ma doots.

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Weak competition may be key to economy's problems

If you think there isn’t enough competition between the big four banks, the big three power companies, the big two airlines, the big two supermarkets and in a lot of other industries, Andrew Leigh agrees with you.

He has evidence the “concentration” within our industries is increasing. What’s more, he thinks it could be part of the reason we – and the rest of the developed world - are suffering from slower economic growth and productivity improvement.

Dr Leigh is a Harvard-trained former economics professor at the Australian National University and now the federal opposition’s spokesman on competition.

In a speech this week, he said it’s hard to think of many Australian industries these days that aren’t dominated by just a few behemoths.

“Whether it’s Coles or Woolworths, Lion or Carlton, Caltex or BP, Medibank Private or BUPA, Qantas or Virgin – it seems consumers don’t have a great deal of choice where they get their goods and services from,” he says.

A standard measure of concentration judges an industry to be concentrated if the top four players control more than a third of the market.

With the ANU’s Dr Adam Triggs, Leigh calculated this measure for 481 Australian industries, finding that half of them were concentrated.

“In department stores, newspapers, banking, health insurance, supermarkets, domestic airlines, internet service providers, baby food and beer, the biggest four firms comprise more than 80 per cent of the market,” Leigh says.

(Of course, concentration isn’t a foolproof way of measuring the degree of competition. For instance, the two big newspaper companies – one of which owns this august organ – face competition from a huge number of digital news providers. And competition from more specialised retailers makes it seem department stores’ days are numbered.)

Economies of scale mean our small market is more concentrated than big economies. Leigh says our commercial banks, petrol retailers and liquor retailers are more than three times as concentrated as those in the US.

Our department stores, airlines, soft drink manufacturers and cardboard box makers are all significantly more concentrated.

As a general rule, greater market concentration gives the small number of big firms increased “market power” – ability to influence the prices they charge. It may also give them power to extract lower-than-reasonable prices from their suppliers.

Leigh notes American evidence that big companies in concentrated markets were almost 20 per cent slower in paying their suppliers than small companies were.

As to anti-competitive behaviour more generally, Rod Sims, boss of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, said recently that “many well-known and respected major Australian companies have admitted, or been found, to have breached our competition and consumer laws. These same companies regularly [claim] to put their customers first”.

In reaction to the growing market power of our big firms, Leigh says, governments have added civil fines for unconscionable conduct, criminalised the forming of cartels, and increased penalties for breaches of consumer protection laws.

Another problem is poor regulation of monopoly businesses that have been privatised. “Whether it is a port or an airport [or, he could have added, an electricity transmitter], it is important that governments ensure that the gains to taxpayers from selling an asset aren’t offset by the losses to consumers from higher prices,” Leigh says.

He notes that, in 2008, the ACCC received about 34,000 complaints by consumers. By 2016, it was closer to 60,000.

But why are Australian markets so heavily concentrated, and probably becoming more so? Partly because of a decline in the rate at which new businesses are being created: from an average annual rate of 16 per cent before 2010, to 13 per cent since then.

But also because of a big increase in company mergers and acquisitions. Between 1992 and 2017, their number increased almost five-fold from 394 a year to 1960 a year.

An international study has found that, in Oz, the average prices charged by large, stock exchange-listed firms were close to their marginal cost of production in 1980, and stayed there until the late ‘90s.

By the early 2000s, however, they’d risen to 40 per cent above the marginal cost. By 2010, they were 50 per cent above and by 2016 they were 60 per cent above.

In the US, there’s growing evidence that market concentration may be suppressing business investment. One study found that 80 per cent of the decline in US investment since 2000 can be explained by less competitive markets and increased ownership of shares by institutional investors.

As top US economists Paul Krugman and Larry Summers have said, the odd combination of high company profits but weak investment (at a time of low interest rates and high share prices) is just what you’d expect to see if market power was increasing.

Leigh says weak competition may help explain why wage growth is weak here and in other developed countries. “Wages are fundamentally driven by the competition between firms for workers. Less competition means lower wages,” he says.

A British study by Professor Stephen Nickell, of Oxford, found that a 25 per cent increase in market concentration leads to a 1 per cent fall in productivity.

An American study of detailed data at the firm level for all US manufacturing industries, found that mergers were associated with increased price mark-ups, but there was little evidence they boosted productivity.

Leigh concludes that “Australia has a competition problem: there is not enough of it. Our industries are concentrated. Anti-competitive conduct is rife. Our consumers are treated poorly.

Our markets show the signs of weak competition. "There has been a massive increase in mark-ups among large listed firms over the past two decades.”

What to do about it? We shouldn’t adopt an "overly permissive" approach to company mergers. We should take “a more circumspect approach to claims of [greater] efficiency when considering anti-competitive conduct”.

We should give the ACCC the investigatory powers it needs. We should ensure that penalties aren’t so small they can be treated as just a cost of doing business.

We should consider the impact of anti-competitive conduct on innovation, and recognise that unchecked market power can harm workers as well as consumers.

Sounds to me like an election manifesto.

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Growth in world economy will take a toll on the environment

If the world’s population keeps growing, and the poor world’s living standards keep catching up with the rich world’s, how on earth will the environment cope with the huge increase in extraction, processing and disposal of material resources?

It’s a question many people wonder and worry about – without much sign it’s even crossed the mind of the world’s governments.

Until now. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development is about to publish a Global Material Resources Outlook, which uses much fancy modelling to make an educated guess about what’s likely to happen in the future.

The report projects that, over the 50 years to 2060, annual global use of materials – including metals, fossil fuels, biomass (food and fibres) and non-metallic minerals (mainly sand, gravel, limestone and other building materials) – will more than double, from 79 gigatonnes in 2011 to 167 Gt in 2060. Gosh.

So how did the report reach that figure? It started by estimating the likely growth in the world’s population. Although its rate of growth is expected to slow, the world population could increase from 7 billion to 10 billion by 2060.

At the same time, material living standards in the developing countries are expected to continue converging on those of the developed countries.

Gross domestic product per person is expected to continue growing at a much faster rate in the poorer countries than the rich ones. So much so that, by 2060, the global level of real GDP per person is expected to have reached where it was for just the (richer) OECD countries in 2011.

This implies a tripling in global income per person to about $US40,000 a year – after adjusting for PPP, purchasing-power parity, to allow for one US dollar buying a lot more in a poor country than it does Stateside. The fastest catch-up will be in China and, to a lesser extent, India and south-east Asia.

That’s good news for the world’s non-rich. It would be a bit rich for the well-off countries to expect the poor countries to stay poor just to reduce pressure on the natural environment in a way we’re not prepared to.

Multiply world population by world income per person and you get world GDP. It’s expected to quadruple.

Even so, its rate of growth may slow. Whereas at the turn of the century world GDP was growing at an average rate of about 3.5 per cent a year, it’s expected to stabilise at a rate of less than 2.5 per cent well before we reach 2060.

(Why? Partly because of arithmetic. It’s much easier for a small number to grow by a high percentage than for a big number to. But also because, when you’re way behind, it’s relatively easy to catch up with the world’s technological frontrunner, the US, by adopting its better existing technology. Once you’ve done the easy bits, however, it gets harder to grow as fast. China will account for much of the global slowing.)

But hang on. If world GDP is expected to quadruple, how come materials use is expected only to double?

It’s because other things – helpful things – will be going on at the same time. The first is that the world economy is “dematerialising”.

Machines and gadgets are getting smaller and using less metal, but more to the point is the “servitisation” of the world economy (there’s a new ugly buzz word to add to your collection) – the tendency for more of each dollar we spend to go on services rather than goods.

Services have lower materials “intensity” – materials use per unit of output - than goods. The shift in the mix from goods to services is a function of economic development. When you’re poor the main thing you want is more goods, but as you get richer there’s a limit to how much you want to eat or wear and how many cars and TV sets you need. But there’s no limit to how many things you’d like to pay other people to do for you.

This shift is already well advanced in the rich countries, but the poor countries have a lot of infrastructure and housing to build (and a lot of cars and TV sets to buy) before they begin to approach material satiation.

The share of services in world GDP is projected to rise from 50 per cent to 54 per cent over the 50 years.

A second helpful factor is that technological advance should increase the efficiency with which materials are used. The two factors are projected to reduce the materials intensity of world GDP at the faster average rate of 1.3 per cent a year.

So, the report finds, were materials use to keep up with economic growth, annual use would increase by 283 Gt to 362 Gt. But the shift to services will reduce that increase by 111 Gt and technological advance will reduce it by 84 Gt, meaning materials use rises to just 167 Gt in 2060.

Note, however, that this is growth in “primary” materials extraction, not “secondary” use of recycled materials, which the report says is likely to become more competitive and grow at the same rate. So increased recycling is another factor helping to explain the lesser growth in primary extraction.

With GDP growing faster than materials use, the report is expecting a partial “decoupling” of the two.

Of course, there’ll still be a big increase in pollution. Greenhouse gas emissions, but also acidification, freshwater aquatic ecotoxicity, terrestrial ecotoxicity, human toxicity via inhalation or the food chain, photochemical oxidation (smog), ozone layer depletion, and not forgetting increased land fill to dump the materials when we’re done with ’em.

Final point: this “baseline scenario” assumes no change in government policy. That’s the point: it’s intended to show the world’s governments how great is the need for them to make a policy response.

Such as? I’d like to see a tax on materials use, with the proceeds used to reduce the tax on labour income. Similar to a price on carbon, this would do much to encourage recycling, repair and renovation, and economising in the use of materials.

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Not sure what the economy's up to? Nor are the experts

There are times when the rich world’s macro-economists think they’ve got everything figured, and times when they know they haven’t. The latter is where we are now, with the entire profession scratching its head and wondering what’s causing the economy to behave as it is.

The last time economists thought they had it tabbed was between the mid-1980s and the mid-2000s. The world economy was growing so smoothly they decided we’d entered the Great Moderation and began patting themselves on the back.

Always a bad sign. Next thing we knew the global financial crisis had arrived and with it the Great Recession.

But it’s now a decade since the start of that recession, and it’s clear the advanced economies aren’t back to anything like what they were – even, despite appearances, the American economy.

The problem has various symptoms, but it boils down to slow economic growth, which boils down further to much slower rates of productivity improvement than we’ve been used to. This is surprising when you consider how much digital disruption we’re seeing. Isn’t that aimed at improving productivity?

So why is it happening? That’s anybody’s guess. A host of possible explanations is being advanced and debated. It could be another decade before a new conventional wisdom emerges.

I’ve written before about the thesis that the digital revolution won’t boost productivity the way earlier waves of general-purpose technologies did, about the thesis of “secular stagnation” and yet another idea that the main trouble is decades of weak business investment.

But last week Dr Luci Ellis, a Reserve Bank assistant governor, offered her own thoughts on yet another possible piece in the jigsaw puzzle. Productivity is generated by firms, but Ellis notes that, both in Australia and abroad, the evidence suggests that levels of productivity vary widely between firms, even within the same narrowly defined industry.

“Firms that are highly productive – so-called superstar firms – tend to grow faster, grow employment faster, and pay better than firms that are a long way from the frontier of productivity”, she says.

But there’s a problem. Because these superstar firms are more productive than average, they gain market share at the expense of less-productive competitors.

The leading firms could start moving further and further ahead of the pack.

Those that lag behind would then find it harder and harder to catch up. The result could be that markets become more concentrated.

“The market leader begins to reap monopoly profits, which isn’t good for consumers and might not be good for long-run innovation and [society’s] welfare”, she says.

But must the laggard firms never catch up? That may depend on why so many firms are lagging. If it’s because they lack managerial ability, it ought to be possible for them to copy the leaders’ superior approach or even poach their rival’s managers. If so, this would lift the whole industry’s – and the nation’s – productivity.

But what if the laggards have lower productivity because they aren’t adopting the latest technology the way the superstars are? There’s evidence this is the case in other advanced economies, but Ellis says we don’t yet know if it’s true in Australia.

If this superstar pattern has arisen only recently, it could be something to do with the nature of developments in digital technology and their ease of adoption.

Previous waves of general-purpose technologies, such as electricity or the earlier round of computerisation, had the benefit of reducing the level of skill needed to operate them, whereas innovations such as machine learning and artificial intelligence seem to have a very different character, she says.

“Using machine learning and other emerging techniques to automate routine business processes seems to involve specialist skills and, often, PhD-level training in statistics or computer science. These skills are much rarer and take longer to develop than those required for the jobs that are thereby replaced.

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible, but it could take a long time,” she says.

And get this: if leading-edge technologies are (at present, anyway) unusually costly or difficult to adopt, they become a kind of barrier to entry protecting the firms that are already using those technologies.

That would be a worry if lagging firms never caught up. And if incumbents never face rivals, they’re more likely to become complacent. “Innovation could slow down, and growth in living standards with it”, she concludes.

So, is this the big reason productivity improvement has slowed throughout the advanced economies? Far too soon to say.

But it makes an important point: the problem, and the solution, lie in the hands of our big companies.

Governments may have a role in spending more – and more wisely – on education and training, but giving up a lot of revenue to cut the rate of company tax isn’t likely to make much difference.

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Long way to go to get banks back in their box

Have we learnt from the mistakes of the global financial crisis, now 10 years ago? Yes, but not nearly as much as we should have.

Of course, the answer is different for the Americans and the other major advanced economies to what it is for us, who managed to avoid bank failures and the Great Recession.

Globally, much has been done under the Basel rules to strengthen requirements for banks to hold more capital and liquidity, reducing the likelihood of them getting themselves into difficulties.

It would be naive, however, to imagine this has eliminated the possibility of any future financial crisis. Recurring financial crises are a feature of capitalist economies through the centuries.

All we can do is work on reducing their frequency and severity. On that score, the rich countries could have done a better job of rationalising the division of responsibility between the various buck-passing authorities supposed to be regulating their financial system.

The root cause of the GFC was ideological: the belief that the more lightly regulated the banks and other financial players were, the better they’d serve the wider economy’s interests, allied with the belief that their greater freedom wouldn’t tempt them to take excessive risks because that would be contrary to their interests.

Wrong. This badly misread the perverse incentives bank executives faced – heads I win big bonuses; tails my shareholders do their dough – and the way the heat of competition can induce business people to do things they know they shouldn’t, not to mention the “moral hazard” of knowing that, should the worst come to the worst, the government will have no choice but to bail us out.

As actually happened. In the North Atlantic economies, politicians and central bankers did the right thing in rescuing failing banks. Had they not, the whole financial system would have collapsed and the loss of wealth and employment would have been many times greater than it was.

But don’t try telling that to a public that watched governments racking up billions in debt to save banks and bankers, who then proceeded to turn out on the street people who could no longer afford the mortgages they should never have been granted.

The US authorities’ mistake was failing to draw a clear distinction between saving banks to protect their customers and stop the system collapsing, and punishing the failed banks’ managers and shareholders for screwing up.

Why didn’t they? In short, because the banks are too powerful politically.

Which brings us to Australia’s response to the GFC and how we escaped the Great Recession. Our big banks didn’t fall over because our econocrats never believed the banks wouldn’t be silly enough to take risks that could endanger their survival. Our banks didn’t buy toxic assets because our prudential supervisors wouldn’t let ‘em.

That didn’t stop the GFC dealing a blow to business and consumer confidence, such that real gross domestic product contracted by 0.5 per cent in December quarter 2008. That we avoided recession is thanks to the quick action of the Reserve Bank in slashing interest rates and the Rudd government in applying huge fiscal stimulus, which stopped the economy unravelling.

At another level, however, the econocrats did believe the banks should be lightly regulated in their relations with customers, and could be trusted not to mistreat them. Outfits such as the Australian Securities and Investments Commission had their funding cut and were given the nod not to be overactive.

The absence of a crash meant our governments didn’t learn that, in the non-textbook world, market forces can cause, as well as limit, the mistreatment of customers. Our own banks’ great political influence reinforced this naivety, prompting governments to wave aside the mounting evidence of bank misconduct and the public’s mounting disquiet and distrust.

So, in a sense, the banking royal commission is the product of our earlier failure to learn what we should have from the GFC.

But there’s a much broader lesson we’ve yet to learn from the crisis, one that applies to all the advanced economies. It’s that the banking and “financial services” sector is far bigger than we need, is bloated by rent-seeking, involves many times more trading between banks (a form of gambling) than trading between banks and real-economy customers, and is thus a waste of economic resources.

When financial services’ share of our economy (and most other advanced countries’) was expanding rapidly in the decades preceding the crisis, economists told us we were benefiting from financial innovation and advances in the management of financial risk.

The GFC revealed that rationale as about 95 per cent bulldust. To misquote Keynes, the economy would be better off if most of the people making big bucks in finance got useful jobs such as being dentists.

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A beautiful set of numbers gets you only so far

This week’s national accounts don’t leave any doubt that the economy grew strongly in the first half of this year. But whether it can sustain that growth rate is doubtful.

According to figures issued by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, real gross domestic product grew by 0.9 per cent in the June quarter and an upwardly revised 1.1 per cent in the March quarter, yielding growth of 3.4 per cent over the year to June.

For once, the bureau’s “trend” (smoothed) estimates tell the same story.

Annual growth of 3.4 per cent is well above the economy’s medium-term “potential” growth rate of about 2.75 per cent, suggesting we’ve started making inroads into our unused production capacity.

It also means we’ve now completed 27 years of continuous growth since our last severe recession of the early 1990s. (We had recessions too small to remember in 2000 and again at the time of the global financial crisis in 2008, but let’s not spoil the party.)

The figures vindicate the Reserve Bank’s steadfast forecast of growth returning to “a bit above 3 per cent” in 2018 and 2019.

This growth of 3.4 per cent from one June quarter to the next amounts to growth averaged over the whole of the 2017-18 financial year of 2.9 per cent – meaning that (contrary to what I was expecting) the government has comfortably exceeded its budget forecast of 2.75 per cent.

Where’s the growth coming from? Over the year, the biggest contributions came from consumer spending and government consumption spending (mainly the wages of people working in health and education), business investment spending and public investment in infrastructure.

Since the volume of imports grew a lot faster than the volume of exports, the external sector subtracted from growth.

It was, however, a financial year of two halves, with growth at an annualised rate of less than 3 per cent in the last half of 2017, but more than 4 per cent in the first half of this year.

Trouble is, no one sees the economy continuing to grow at an annualised rate as high as 4 per cent – not private forecasters or the Reserve Bank, nor even the government.

Why not? Because the biggest contributor to growth – whether over the year to June or in the latest quarter – has been strong consumer spending.

Consumer spending accounts for more than half of GDP. And its growth does much to stimulate growth in business investment spending, particularly non-mining business investment. (It’s when demand for your product threatens to exceed your production capacity that you expand your business.)

Growth in consumer spending is driven by growth in households’ disposable income. Household disposable income, in turn, is driven mainly by growth in wages. That’s real growth in wages – wages growing a per cent or so faster than prices are rising.

But this is just what’s not been happening over the past three or four years. And although Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe remains confident we’ll get back to heathly real wage growth eventually, he keeps warning the recovery will be a long time coming.

This gives us good reason to doubt that the rapid growth of the first half of this year will be sustained. But, before we get to that, how’s it been achieved so far?

The first part of the explanation is the extraordinarily strong growth in employment. As you may have heard (many times), employment grew by a calendar-year record of 400,000 in 2017, about double the annual average.

This week the new Treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, noted that 2017-18 saw jobs growth of more than 330,000 – the largest jobs growth in a financial year since 2004-05.

Notice the diminishing superlatives? If you use trend figures to break that into half years, you find 70 per cent of it occurred in the first half and only 30 per cent in the second. Hmmm.

While wage rises are the main source of increase in household disposable income, the secondary source is increased employment – more people earning income in more households.

To illustrate, total wages paid to households (“compensation of employees”, in the jargon) rose by 0.7 per cent in nominal terms in the June quarter, whereas average wages per worker rose by 0.1 per cent. Get it? Increased employment accounted for almost all the growth in total wages.

But that employment growth is not the main thing that kept consumer spending growing strongly despite weak growth in household income. The bigger factor was households cutting their rate of saving.

The ratio of household saving to household disposable income continued its fall, dropping from 2.8 per cent to 1.4 per cent (using trend figures). This is down from a peak of 9 per cent after the financial crisis.

Note, this means households added to their savings at a lesser rate, not that they reduced the amount of their savings.

This is what economists call “consumption smoothing”. If the growth in your income is weak, you reduce your rate of saving to avoid having to tighten your belt and consume less.

Nothing wrong with that. But there’s not much scope left for further cuts in the saving rate.

Dr Shane Oliver, of AMP Capital, offers this summary of the outlook for the economy: “While housing construction will slow and consumer spending is constrained, a lesser drag from mining investment [because it’s almost hit bottom] along with solid export growth provide an offset, and are expected to see growth of between 2.5 and 3 per cent going forward.”

I’m more optimistic than that. I hope the Reserve’s “a bit above 3 per cent” will be on the money.

But be clear on this: no matter how wonderful the latest figures look - and there are two more quarterly announcements to come before an election in May - strong growth in the economy isn’t sustainable until workers are back to getting their share of the benefits of national productivity improvement in the form of real wage growth of a per cent or two a year.

Until then, voters aren’t likely to be greatly impressed by "a beautiful set of numbers”.

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“Lags”: one reason economists keep getting it wrong

I’m compiling a short-list of the main things economics teaches us. One is: economic developments take longer to affect the economy than you’d expect. Economists call these delays “lags”. That there are so many of them – and their lengths keep changing – does a lot to explain why economists’ forecasts are so often wrong.

Last week Dr Luci Ellis, an assistant governor of the Reserve Bank, gave a prestigious lecture at the Australian National University devoted solely to the problem of lags.

Ellis says a lag occurs in any instance where time passes between when an activity is initiated and when it has its impact. “Almost all economic phenomena involve lags,” she says. And she’s divided them into three types.

The first is “process lags” – the time it takes for any production process to be finished. The time it takes to build a house, for instance.

This includes the time it takes to make a decision (say, about whether to build the house). Particularly where decisions are made by governments or big businesses, this can take some time. You may have to gather information, do analysis, prepare documents, convene meetings and complete review processes before you’ve decided.

Economists often compare the strengths and weaknesses of the two main instruments they use to manage the macro economy: monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates) and fiscal policy (the manipulation of government spending and taxation in the budget).

An important difference between the two is that decisions to change interest rates can be made quickly and easily. The Reserve Bank board meets monthly, decides, has lunch and then announces its decision.

By contrast, decisions to change taxes or government spending require a lot more preparation and debate by the cabinet. Then there can be a delay of weeks or months before legislation is passed by parliament and put into effect. Sometimes the firms affected have to be given notice to prepare for the change.

The trick is, once decisions have taken effect, changes to taxes and government spending usually affect the economy more quickly than do changes in interest rates, for which the lags are “long and variable”. The full effect of a rate change could take up to three years.

Another example of decision lags is the local government approval process for building projects, which can take months.

An important case of process lag is known as the “hog cycle”. A farmer takes his pigs to market, discovers prices are high, so decides to grow more pigs.

Trouble is, this takes a few years. And pork prices have fallen back long before the pigs are ready. But when they are, the farmer still has to sell them – which depresses prices even further.

Hog cycles occur in many industries where the long delay between deciding to produce something and getting it finished means demand and supply for the product are never in sync. This causes prices to boom when demand exceeds supply, then bust when supply exceeds demand.

It’s happening now with new apartments. Demand has fallen off, but buildings begun a year or two ago are still adding to supply, putting downward pressure on prices.

The hog cycle – the long lag between rising mineral commodity prices on world markets and our new mines and gas plants finally coming on line – does much to explain the wringer the resources boom and bust has put our economy through over the past decade and a half.

Ellis’s second category is “stock-flow lags”. A stock is the amount of something at a particular point in time – say, the money in a bank account at June 30. A flow is the amounts flowing in and out of the account during a period of time. The difference between the stock at the start of a year and the stock at the end of the year will be the flows in and out.

This is important in housing, where the number of newly built homes in a year is a small fraction of the stock of all existing homes (especially after you allow for the homes that were knocked down during the year).

So if the stock of homes has fallen far short of the number of homes needed, it can take longer than you’d expect to make up the gap.

Historically, macro-economics has tended to focus on flows and ignore stock levels. But Ellis says “if you aren’t taking stocks and flows seriously you probably don’t have a realistic model of the economy”.

Her third category is “learning lags”. This is the time it takes individuals – or the whole economy – to realise economic relationships have changed and to change their behaviour accordingly.

These lags can vary because some people are quicker on the uptake than others. But also because how long it takes before you can conclude a change has occurred depends on many factors: the “noisiness of the data” (the way monthly or quarterly statistics jump around for no apparent reason) and how open you are to changing your views about how things work.

This takes us to the common case of economists having to decide whether some problem is “cyclical” (temporary) or “structural” (lasting).

Ellis says our knowledge that lags often vary in length should make us slow to conclude that the economy’s structure has changed, but human nature seems to push us the other way. It’s too easy to convince ourselves “this time is different” when usually it isn’t.

The big debate between economists at present fits this pattern: is the weakness in wage growth just the product of longer lags than we’re used to in the recovery phase, or has there been some change in workers’ bargaining power that needs correcting?

Whatever the answer, you see how ubiquitous lags are in the economy, how their length can change, how they contribute to the ups and downs of the business cycle, and how hard they make it to be sure where we are now, let alone where we’re headed.

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It's weak investment that’s crimping productivity and prospects

US President Donald Trump said his big cut in company tax would do wonders for the economy. It’s certainly done wonders for company share buybacks. Which may be a clue to why America’s rate of improvement in productivity is so pathetic.

The continuing puzzle for the rich world’s economists is explaining the unusually weak rate of productivity improvement throughout the advanced economies. In Oz we’re not doing so badly, though we used to do a lot better.

Productivity measures the quantity of the economy’s (or just a particular business’s) output of goods and services relative to its inputs of raw materials, labour and capital equipment.

Productivity improves when a given quantity of inputs to the production process is able to produce a greater quantity of goods and services than before. It’s most commonly measured by reference to just one of the inputs, labour. So it’s output per unit of labour, usually per hour worked.

You still see people assuming that some politician or business person saying we need to increase our productivity is really saying we should work harder.

Wrong. The main way to make workers more productive is to give them more or better machines and structures to work with. That is, to invest in more physical capital.

Increasing workers’ education and training – “human capital” – also makes them more productive: better able to work with more sophisticated machines, to think of ways to make machines do better tricks, and think of more efficient ways to organise the work that’s done in a mine, farm, factory, office or shop.

Often, what the better machines and ways of organising things are intended to do is further exploit economies of scale.

Point is, it’s the almost continuous improvement in productivity, year after year, that does most to explain why we are so much more prosperous than our ancestors.

Hence economists’ consternation over the rich world’s unusually weak rate of productivity improvement for the past decade or so, and their search for explanations.

The most popular explanation among them, advanced by Professor Bob Gordon, of Northwestern University in Illinois, is one the rest of us would find hard to credit.

It’s that the present information and communication technology revolution isn’t transforming the economy to the extent that earlier general-purpose technologies – such as electricity, the internal combustion engine, the automated production line, and even running water and indoor toilets – did.

A different, but probably only partial, explanation is that much of the benefits coming from the digital revolution are going unrecognised by a system of national accounts (gross domestic product) designed to measure the industrial economy.

A month ago, I argued that another partial explanation was that the innovations of too many of our brightest and best brains were being used for nothing more productive than finding new ways to get around inconvenient laws and taxes.

Then there’s the notion of “secular stagnation” from Professor Lawrence Summers, of Harvard. Among other things, it says that the ageing of the population and very slow population growth in the rich countries (though not in Australia) means they face a future of weaker growth in consumer spending, thus diminishing the incentive for firms to invest in expansion.

Which links to the much more straightforward – and thus persuasive – explanation offered by former senior econocrat Dr Michael Keating and Professor Stephen Bell, of the University of Queensland, in their book Fair Share.

They argue that the key to productivity improvement is investment – particularly investment by businesses – and the spur to business investment is economic growth and the expectation it will continue.

Innovation is fine, but the main way some new technology is “diffused” throughout the economy is by firms replacing their old machines and structures with new ones that incorporate the latest advances.

Investment is also an essential part of the continuous process of change in the industry structure of the economy, where changes in consumers’ preferences and other developments cause some industries to contract while others expand and new industries emerge.

If firms are reluctant to invest, you don’t get enough expansion to offset the contraction.

What is businesses’ main motive for investing? Their expectations of increased demand for whatever they’re selling, Keating and Bell say.

But this is where the global financial crisis and the Great Recession come in. It was by far the deepest recession the developed world has suffered since the 1930s. The crisis was 10 years ago next month, and the recovery has been particularly weak.

Things in America may look pretty good today – unemployment is very low, profits are high and the economy grew at an annualised rate of 4.1 per cent in the June quarter.

But all is not as it seems. The latest amazing growth is the product of fiscal stimulus from Trump's income tax cuts and won’t last.

Low unemployment conceals a marked fall in the proportion of the population (particularly less-skilled middle-aged men) participating in the labour force.

Many people who lost their job during the recession have given up looking for another one. Their skills have “atrophied” – wasted away – and are a loss of human capital to the US economy.

Keating and Bell show that business investment fell more in this recession than previous ones and has been remarkably slow to recover.

Seeing no great reason to expand, US businesses have been using their profits not to reinvest but to pay big dividends and to buy back their shares on the stockmarket, hoping to boost their price. Trump’s company tax cut has pushed buybacks to record levels.

Get it? Weak economic growth in the advanced economies is discouraging businesses from investing. Weak investment means weak productivity improvement and skills atrophy. But weak productivity means more weak growth.

The authors note that business investment in physical capital, and growth in human capital, are key drivers of the economy’s “potential” growth rate in future years. Neglect them and the economy loses its ability to speed up.

The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development calls this a “low-growth trap”. Not an encouraging thought.

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