Economy close to stalling, as Reserve hits the brakes yet again

It’s been a puzzling week, as we learnt the economy had slowed almost to stalling speed, just a day after the Reserve Bank raised interest rates for the 12th time, and warned there may be more.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts”, real gross domestic product – the economy’s production of goods and services – grew by just 0.2 per cent over the three months to the end of March.

That took growth over the year to March down to 2.3 per cent, which sounds better than it is because the economy has slowed so rapidly. If it continued growing by 0.2 per cent a quarter, that would be annual growth of 0.8 per cent.

And the resumption of immigration means the population is now growing faster than the economy. Allow for population growth and GDP per person actually fell by 0.2 per cent. Over the year to March, it grew by only 0.3 per cent.

While a growing population is good for businesses – they have more potential customers – to everyone else, economic growth has been sold to us as raising our material standard of living. Not much chance of that if GDP per person is falling.

The Reserve Bank has been trying to slow the economy down because demand for goods and services has been growing faster than the economy’s ability to supply them, thus allowing businesses to increase their prices.

With additional help from the rising prices of imported goods and services, the rate of inflation has shot up. It’s started falling back from its peak of 7.8 per cent at the end of last year, but is still way above the Reserve’s 2 per cent to 3 per cent target range.

The Reserve’s been raising the interest rates paid by the third of households with mortgages, to reduce their ability to spend on other things. But, at this stage, probably the biggest dampener on consumer spending is coming from the failure of wages to keep up with rising prices.

“Demand” means spending, so if households find it harder to spend on goods and services, that makes it harder for businesses to raise their prices, thus bringing the inflation rate back down.

And remember that the full effect of all the interest rate rises we’ve seen is still to be felt. The pain will increase over the rest of this year.

But if I were Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe, I wouldn’t be too worried that the plan wasn’t working. The biggest single factor driving GDP is consumer spending, which accounts for more than half of all spending. In the June quarter last year, it grew by 2.2 per cent.

The following quarter its growth fell to 0.8 per cent, then 0.3 per cent, and now 0.2 per cent. Wow. I think the squeeze is working.

Although more people have been working more hours, real household disposable income fell by 0.3 per cent in the quarter, and by 4 per cent over the year to March.

It was hit by the failure of wages to rise in line with prices, by the doubling in households’ interest payments, and by the bigger bite that income tax took out of pay rises, caused by bracket creep.

How did households manage to keep their consumption spending growing despite their falling real income? By cutting the proportion of their income that they were saving from more than 11 per cent in March quarter last year to less than 4 per cent this March quarter – the lowest it’s been in about 15 years.

Household investment spending on newly built homes and alterations fell by 1.2 per cent, its sixth fall in seven quarters.

One bright spot was growth in business spending during the quarter of 2.9 per cent, led by spending on machinery and equipment, and non-dwelling construction – particularly on renewables and electricity infrastructure.

Unfortunately, much of the machinery investment was on imported equipment that had been delayed by the pandemic, so it’s not a sign of continuing strength. The volume of spending on imports was a super-strong 3.2 per cent, but imports subtract from GDP, of course.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers always blames the economy’s slowdown on higher interest rates (blame the Reserve, not me), high inflation (not me either) and “a slowing global economy” (blame the rest of the world).

A slowing global economy? Yes, of course. Everyone’s heard about that. Trouble is, the main way the rest of the world affects us is by buying – or not buying – our exports. And the volume of our exports grew by 1.8 per cent in the March quarter, and 10.8 per cent over the year to March. That’s because our miners have done so well (and our fossil-fuel-using households and businesses so badly) out of the higher world coal and gas prices caused by the Ukraine war.

Even so, this quarter’s growth in export volumes of 1.8 per cent has been swamped by the 3.2 per cent growth in import volumes, meaning that “net exports” – exports minus imports – subtracted 0.2 percentage points from the overall growth in real GDP during the quarter.

After Lowe’s decision on Tuesday to raise rates yet again, Chalmers wasn’t mincing his words. “I do expect that there will be a lot of Australians who find this decision difficult to understand and difficult to cop – ordinary working Australians are already bearing the brunt of these interest rate rises, they shouldn’t bear the blame too,” he said.

“The Reserve Bank’s job is to quash inflation without crashing the economy, and they will have a lot of time and opportunities to explain and defend the decision that they’ve taken today.”

Lowe has said repeatedly that he’s seeking the “narrow path” where “inflation returns to target within a reasonable timeframe, while the economy continues to grow, and we hold on to as many of the gains in the labour market [our return to full employment] as we can”.

After seeing the next day’s GDP figures, Paul Bloxham of HSBC bank observed that the narrow path “is looking extremely narrow indeed”. True.

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It's not the wolf at the door that's driving women to work harder

Why do mothers go out to work? Why are more women doing paid work than ever before? And why are more of those women working full-time? At a time when so many are struggling with the cost of living, it’s easy to conclude that more women are having to work more hours just to keep up. But I think that sells women short.

Worse, it’s a fundamental misreading of perhaps the greatest social change of our age: the economic emancipation of women.

I don’t doubt that women are just as concerned about the cost of living as men, maybe more so if they’re in charge of the family budget. Nor do I doubt that, if you ask a woman why she’s been doing more paid work lately, the cost of living’s likely to be mentioned.

But things are not always as they seem. For instance, when people complain about the cost of living, their focus is on rising prices. But prices rise almost continuously. What matters more is whether wages are rising as fast as prices are – or, preferably, a little faster.

It’s true that the prices for goods and services have risen at a much faster rate than normal over the past two years or so. But the real problem is that wages – which usually do keep up – have been falling behind since the start of the pandemic. Yet people are far more conscious of the rising prices than of the weak wage growth.

Another distinction that’s clearer to economists than to normal people is between the cost of living and the standard of living. When people have trouble maintaining the same standard of living as their friends – a comparable car, comparable house, comparable private school – they would often rather blame the cost of living than their need to keep up with the Joneses.

No, what’s driving the change in women’s lives – causing them to behave very differently from their grandmothers – isn’t the cost of living, it’s education. And with education has come aspiration. Aspiration to put their learning to work, to have a career as well as a family, and to be treated equally with men.

I think it all started sometime in the 1960s when, for some unknown reason, the parents of the rich world accepted that their daughters were just as entitled to a good education as their sons. Everything flows from that fateful change in social attitudes and behaviour. What father today would dream of telling his daughter that, being a girl, she didn’t need an education?

The trouble for boys is that girls do education better. It’s now several decades since the number of girls going to university first exceeded the number of boys.

That being so, the figures for two-income families should come as little surprise. The latest report from the federal government’s Australian Institute of Family Studies, Employment patterns and trends for families with children, finds that in 2022, both parents were employed in 71 per cent of couple families with children under 15. This is up from 56 per cent in 2000, and 40 per cent in 1979.

Within those couple families, the proportion with both parents working full-time was 31 per cent in 2021, up from 22 per cent 12 years earlier. The proportion with one parent working full-time and the other part-time is unchanged at 36 per cent.

Only 4 per cent of these families involved fathers who weren’t working and mothers who were. (Which leaves the young men in my immediate family looking good.)

But there’s something else you need to understand. In the days when there weren’t many two-income families, this gave them a distinct advantage in the housing market. They could afford a better house than their peers.

Once most young home-buying couples have two incomes, however, their greater purchasing power gets built into the prices of the kind of houses they buy, so that what began as an advantage turns into a requirement.

Now it’s the couples who choose not to have both partners working who’ll have trouble affording a home comparable to those of other couples. They’ll have to accept a lower standard of living.

Similarly, it’s a misconception to say, as some do, that you need to have both parents working to afford a family. No, you just have to accept a lower standard of living.

I’ve long suspected that the rise of the two-income family helps explain the growing practice of sending kids to private schools. Two incomes make this easier to afford – though this, too, gets built into the size of the fees the schools can get away with charging.

There’s no reason a mother – or a father – who chooses to have a career should feel guilty about it. But I suspect some double-income couples find it easier to justify if they can say that the extra money is buying their kids a better education.

Sorry, a mountain of evidence says that, once you allow for the parents’ socio-economic status, private schools don’t add to students’ academic performance. Buyer beware.

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For better housing affordability, try the premier, not the PM

People have been complaining about the unaffordability of houses for as long as I’ve been a journalist. In all that time, governments have professed great concern, while doing nothing of consequence. But I suspect their insouciance can’t last much longer.

Over the years, the prices of houses and apartments have risen much faster that household incomes have risen, gradually lowering the proportion of Australians able to afford a home of their own.

So the problem keeps getting worse and, with interest rates having risen so far so fast, as well as renters now feeling so much pain, it wouldn’t surprise me if, in coming federal and state elections, many younger voters – and some of their parents – were really steamed up about the issue.

If so, both Labor and the Liberals will be vulnerable to minor parties offering solutions – sensible or otherwise. But what could the major parties do to reduce the problem?

Well, nothing that some people wouldn’t vigorously object to. That’s why the political duopoly has done so little for so long.

The unending rise in house prices has been caused by various factors – some under the control of the federal government, some controlled by the states.

If prices keep rising, this suggests that demand is outstripping supply. In general, the feds have more direct influence over the demand for housing, whereas the states have more direct influence over the supply of them.

It’s wrong to assume that all the problems are coming from either the demand side or the supply side. But, of late, economists have been focusing on the supply side, which points the finger at state governments.

At first blush, if house prices are high and rising, this suggests not enough houses are being built. That’s probably true at present, with immigrants coming faster than we’re building new dwellings for them to live in.

But, over the decades, supply has eventually caught up with demand, so that doesn’t explain why prices have been rising for ages.

And, if it was just a matter of building enough houses to accommodate the growing population, cities would just keep spreading out for ever. That would be expensive – with all the extra transport and infrastructure you’d have to build – and not everyone wants to live that far out from the CBD.

So, the real supply issue is not that we should be building enough houses, it’s building enough housing where people want to live. And the truth is that many people want to live closer in.

As the NSW Productivity Commission explains in a new report, state planning systems make it “difficult to build enough new homes where people want to live – close to jobs, transport, schools and other amenities”.

“Instead, the system encourages urban sprawl, forcing people into longer and longer commutes. These policies increase inequality, especially for low and middle-income workers.”

Guess what happens if governments don’t allow enough homes to be built where people want to live? The prices of homes in, or nearer to, the most desirable areas get bid up relative to prices out in the boondocks, forcing up the median price.

As Australia’s population has grown so rapidly over the decades, the populations of Sydney, Melbourne and the other state capitals have increased greatly, but done so mainly by spreading out.

This has made housing more expensive, as people have had to pay more to live in the closer-in, more desirable parts of the city. Inevitably, it’s the better-off who get the best spots and the less well-paid who have to live further out, where the amenity is less.

Everyone’s paying more for their housing, but the well-off pay a smaller proportion of their income than those in the middle and at the bottom. This pushes families to compromise on where they live – further from family, friends and jobs.

The NSW Productivity Commission report says poor housing affordability brings four disadvantages to individual families and the community. It leaves families with less to spend on other things. It reduces the productivity of the nation’s labour because so many people who want to work can’t afford to live near their best employment prospects.

It adds to environmental damage because more workers live further from city centres and endure long, polluting commutes to their jobs.

And it reduces people’s quality of life because so much of our cities’ populations end up too far from the beach, sports arenas, big entertainment venues and other amenities.

So, what can state governments do to reduce these costs and make our lives better?

We should build more new homes in areas closer to the city’s centre. “These areas offer both the richest collection of job opportunities, and a supply of already-built infrastructure and other amenities whose capacity can be leveraged and expanded,” the report says.

What we need to do is build up, not out, and achieve more “infill” of unused or underutilised land close in.

Specifically, the report says, we need three changes. First, raise average apartment heights in suburbs close to the CBD (and to job opportunities).

Second, allow more development around transport hubs, such as train stations, and take advantage of our existing infrastructure capacity.

And third, encourage more townhouses and other medium-density development, and allow more dual-occupancy uses such as granny flats, where higher density is not an option.

The report argues that, even if the new supply of homes targets the high end of town, building more housing closer to the CBD, “downward filtering” means affordability improves everywhere.

The new, more expensive homes near the centre will be occupied by high-income families. But they will leave behind high-quality homes that middle-income families can move to, leaving their homes to be occupied by lower-income families.

NSW Productivity Commissioner Peter Achterstraat says that “if you believe, as I do, that today’s kids deserve the same shot at the Australian dream that my generation had, we need to change our planning system and build near existing infrastructure to make room for them”.

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RBA inquiry should propose something much better

The inquiry into the Reserve Bank, due to report this month, will be disappointing if it does no more than suggest modest improvements in the way it does its job. The question it should answer is: should we give so much responsibility to an institution with such a limited instrument – interest rates – and with such a narrow focus?

In Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s lengthy appearance before the House of Representatives Economics Committee last month, he spent much of his time reminding critics that he only has one tool, so he can’t do anything to resolve the problems they were complaining about.

He’s right. But if the problems are real, and he can’t do anything about them, why should the central bank be the top dog when it comes to managing the economy, and Treasury’s job be limited to worrying about debt and deficit?

Shouldn’t the greatest responsibility go to an institution with more instruments, and ones capable of doing more tricks?

By the way, if you’re wondering why I’ve had so much to say recently about the limitations of monetary policy and the questionable convention of making it dominant in the management of the macroeconomy, it’s because it’s the obvious thing to do while we’re holding an inquiry into Reserve Bank’s performance.

Frenchman Olivier Blanchard, one of the world’s top macroeconomists, recently caused a storm when he tweeted about “a point which is often lost in discussions of inflation and central bank policy”.

“Inflation,” he wrote, “is fundamentally the outcome of the distributional conflict between firms, workers and taxpayers. It stops only when the various players are forced to accept the outcome.”

Oh, people cried, that can’t be right. Inflation is caused when the demand for goods and services exceeds the supply of them.

In truth, both propositions are correct. At the top level, inflation is simply about the imbalance between demand and supply. At a deeper level, however, “distributional conflict” between capital and labour can be the cause of that imbalance.

Businesses add to inflation when they seek to increase their profit margins. Workers and their unions add to inflation when they seek to increase their real wages by more than the productivity of labour justifies.

But this way of thinking is disconcerting to central bankers because – though there may well be a way of reducing inflation pressure by reducing the conflict between labour and capital – there’s nothing the Reserve can do about it directly.

Central banks’ interest-rate instrument can fix the problem only indirectly and brutally: by weakening demand (spending) until the warring parties are forced to suspend hostilities. So distributional conflict is the first thing monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates) can’t really fix.

Then there’s inflation caused by other supply constraints, such as the pandemic or wars. Again, monetary policy can’t fix the constraint, just bash down demand to fit.

The next things monetary policy doesn’t do are fairness and effectiveness. When we’re trying to reduce inflation by reducing people’s ability to consume goods and services, it would be nice to do so with a tool that shared the burden widely and reasonably evenly.

A temporary increase in income tax or GST would do that, but increasing interest rates concentrates the burden on people with big mortgages. This concentration means the increase has to be that much greater to achieve the desired slowing in total consumer spending.

A further dimension of monetary policy’s unfairness is the way it mucks around with the income of savers. Their interest income suddenly dives when the Reserve decides it needs to encourage people to borrow and spend.

In theory, this is made up for when the Reserve decides to discourage people from borrowing and spending, as now. In practice, however, the banks drag their feet in passing higher interest rates on to their depositors. But it’s rare for the Reserve even to chivvy the banks for their tardiness.

Governments need to be free to encourage or discourage consumers from spending. But where’s the justification for doing this by riding on the backs of young people saving for a home and old people depending on interest income to live on?

The next thing monetary policy doesn’t do is competition. What’s supposed to keep prices no higher than they absolutely need to be is the strength of competition between businesses. You’d think this would be a matter of great interest to the Reserve, especially since there are signs that businesses increasing their “markups” are part of the present high inflation.

But only rarely does the Reserve mention the possibility, and only in passing. It gives no support to the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission’s efforts to limit big firms’ pricing power.

The final thing monetary policy doesn’t do is housing. The Reserve is right to insist that its increases in interest rates aren’t the main reason homes have become so hard to afford.

The real reason is the failure of governments to increase the supply of homes in the places people want to live – close to the centre of the city, where the jobs are – exacerbated by their failure to provide decent public transport to outer suburbs.

But the ups and downs of mortgage interest rates must surely be making affordability worse. To this, Lowe’s reply is that, sorry, he’s got a job to do and only one instrument to do it with, so he can’t be worried about the collateral damage he’s doing to would-be young home buyers.

Well, he can’t be worried, but his political masters can. And if they’re not game to fix the fundamental factors driving up house prices, they should be willing to create an instrument for the short-term management of demand that doesn’t cause as many adverse side effects as using interest rates does.

The one big thing going for monetary policy as a way of keeping the economy on track is that the Reserve’s independence of the elected government allows it to put the economy’s needs ahead of the government’s need to sync the economy with the next election.

But, as various respected economists have pointed out, there’s no reason the government can’t design a fiscal instrument, giving another body the ability to raise or lower it within a specified range, and making that body independent, too.

It’s the Reserve Bank inquiry’s job to give the government some advice on why and how it should make a change for the better.

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The rich world should think twice about 'central bankism'

For the best part of 30 years, the governments of the advanced countries have outsourced the management of their economies to independent central banks. For many of those years, this change looked to have been a smart one. Now, not so much.

If the central banks’ efforts to get on top of the huge and quite unexpected surge in inflation that followed the pandemic go too far, and the rich countries end up in a severe recession, the inevitable search for someone to blame will lead straight to the door of the central bank.

After all, it was the central bank that, ignoring all the cries of pain, insisted on raising interest rates as far and fast as it did. And, as would by then be obvious, it misjudged and went too far.

It ignored the first rule for econocrats using a policy tool notorious for its “long and variable lags”: if you keep tightening until you’re sure you’ve got inflation beat, you’re sure to have gone too far.

You kept telling us it wasn’t your intention to cause a recession, but we got one anyway. So, were you lying to us, or just incompetent?

That’s my first point: if we do end up in recession, the independent central banks will get the blame, and there’ll be a posse of angry voters around the world demanding they be stripped of their independence.

But even if – as we hope - the worst doesn’t come to the worst, there’ll still be a strong case for our politicians to ask the obvious question: surely there must be a better way to run a railroad?

The rich world moved to central bank independence in the 1990s for strictly pragmatic reasons: because governments couldn’t be trusted to move the interest rate lever up and down to fit the economic cycle, not the political cycle.

Fine. But this is a democracy. How come a bunch of unelected bureaucrats have been given so much power? The fact is, independent central banking’s legitimacy comes solely because a duly elected government saw fit to grant it that freedom, and the present government hasn’t seen fit to take it away. Yet.

The trick is, if a central bank really stuffs up, voters will be furious, and they’ll turn on the only people they can turn on: the government of the day. You may think that, should a government of one colour be tossed out because of the central bank’s almighty stuff-up, the incoming government of the other colour would be mighty pleased with the central bank.

No way. What it would think is: if those bastards could do it to the others, they could just as easily do it to us. The new government’s first act would be to clip the central bankers’ wings.

The broader point is that independent central banking was not ordained by God. It’s just a policy choice we made at a time when it seemed like a good idea. When circumstances change, and we realise it wasn’t such a good idea, we’ll be perfectly equipped and entitled to change to a different policy arrangement we hope will work better.

Of course, moving away from economic management by interest-rate manipulation wouldn’t please everyone. It wouldn’t please academic economists who’d devoted their lives to the study of monetary economics (and right now, are hoping for a well-paid spot on the Reserve Bank board).

Nor would it suit the industry that, over the past 30 years, has grown up on the pavement outside the central bank’s building, so to speak. All the money market dealers who make their living betting on whether the central bank will change rates this month and by how much. Nor the economists who write the professional punters’ tip sheets.

And it’s a safe bet it wouldn’t suit the big banks, who’d much prefer the economy to be run by their mates down the road in Martin Place, rather than all those unknown bureaucrats and politicians in Canberra.

When you let one institution run the economy day to day for so long, it starts to get proprietorial. It’s in change of the economy and, when problems arise, it must be the outfit that takes charge and does what’s necessary to fix things.

There’s never a time when you admit that some other institution – the government and its Treasury advisers, for instance – should take the running because their instrument, the budget, is more multifaceted and suited to the problem than is your one-trick-pony instrument, interest rates.

And you do this even when the official interest rate is not far above zero. You tell everyone who thinks you’re out of ammo and should leave the running to Treasury and fiscal policy, they’re wrong, and resort to quantitative easing and other “unconventional measures”.

I reckon a big part of the reason what we thought was a problem of holding the economy together while we dealt with the pandemic turned into the worst inflationary episode in 30 years was the uncalled-for intervention of central banks, pushing themselves to the front of the fiscal parade.

And this from the institution that’s spend decades telling us it knows more about inflation than everyone else, cares more about inflation than anything else, and accepts ultimate responsibility to protect us from the supreme evil of inflation.

Today’s conventional wisdom says the present inflation surge was caused by big pandemic and war-caused supply shortages coming at a time when demand had been overstimulated. But a big part of that overstimulation occurred because central banks insisted on coming in over the top of those who were better equipped to respond to the pandemic and, indeed, were responsible for ordering and policing the lockdowns: the federal and state governments.

In Australia, nowhere was this overkill more apparent than in housing. While both federal and state governments were instituting temporary incentives to encourage home building, the central bank was not only slashing the official interest rate to near zero, it was lending to the banks at a hugely concessional rate, and buying second-hand government bonds, so the banks could offer home buyers two and three-year fixed-interest loans.

Throw in a temporary, pandemic-caused shortage of imported building materials, and you have much of our inflation surge being explained by an astonishing 27 per cent leap in the cost of a newly built home.

Why wasn’t there any co-ordination between the three arms of government that caused this avoidable inflationary disaster? Because the central bank is independent. It acts on its own volition.

But also because, when your only tool is a one-trick pony, you end up wearing blinkers. When you can only join the game by putting rates up or putting them down, you just can’t afford to worry about anyone who may be sideswiped in the process.

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It's no wonder the young hate Boomers like me

As I get older, more parts of my body are giving me gyp and I spend more of my life seeing doctors, but the people I don’t envy are the young. They may be fit and keen, but everywhere they look they see problems.

The big advantage of capitalism is supposed to be that it makes each generation better off than the last. But that’s breaking down before our eyes. The really harmful problem we’re leaving them is climate change, of course, but there’s much more than that.

They’re better educated than ever but, for many, it doesn’t seem to get them a secure, decently paid job. Even so, they leave education owing big debts to the government.

But, coming well behind climate change, the biggest disservice the older generation has done to them is to let the price of a home keep reaching for the sky.

We’re now at the point where each successive age group contains an ever-lower proportion of people who’ve managed to buy the home they live in.

In contrast, the aged have never had it better. The only thing they have to fear – and the young have to look forward to – is still needing to rent privately in retirement.

We’ve turned housing into Lotto. If you manage to win, they shower you in wealth. If you don’t win, you get screwed. Renters have few rights because, as we all know, it’s just a temporary state for the young.

And then the Baby Boomers (like me) wonder why the young seem to hate them. It’s not true that all Baby Boomers are rolling in it. Some of them don’t even own their own home. But most of them (like me) were able to buy early in their lives, when first homes were affordable. Since then, they’ve just sat back in delighted amazement as their wealth has multiplied.

Of course, if there’s anything wrong with the way the world’s run, it wasn’t anything I did, it was those terrible pollies. Yeah, nah.

Since older home owners have always far out-numbered the young would-be home owners, the politicians have always run the housing game to favour those who love seeing property prices rise – and, now you mention it, wouldn’t mind buying another house as an investment.

At present, it’s easy to conclude the big problem with housing affordability is rising interest rates and so blame it all on the Reserve Bank boss Dr Philip Lowe. But, as I’ve written elsewhere, although it’s reasonable to ask whether putting interest rates up and down is a sensible and fair way to manage the economy, that’s a separate issue.

Home loans take two to tango: how much you have to borrow and the interest rate on the loan. The interest rate cycles up and down around a relatively stable average, whereas the amount you need to borrow has gone up and up, decade after decade.

True, house prices are falling at present, but this is just returning them to where they were before they took off during the pandemic. It’s a safe bet that, once they’ve finished falling, they’ll resume their upward climb.

This is why oldies are wrong to scoff at young people complaining about mortgage interest rates of 5 per cent. “In my day, I had to pay 17 per cent!” Yes, you did – for a year or so in the early 1990s, when the amount you had to borrow was much less.

What’s true is that, right now, it’s mainly younger people who borrowed huge sums in the past few years who’re really feeling the pain.

But the real question is why house prices have risen so far for so long. They’ve risen much faster than incomes. The Grattan Institute calculates that whereas typical house prices used to be about four times incomes, now they’re more than eight times – and even more in Melbourne and Sydney.

But why? Not because of anything the Reserve Bank has done. Nor so much because we’ve failed to build enough additional houses and units to accommodate the growth in the population.

More because our tax and social security rules have made home ownership a highly attractive, government-favoured form of investment, not just a place you can call your own and not be chucked out of as long you keep up the payments. People who buy investment properties out-compete would-be first home owners, bidding up the price.

But also because there’s more competition to buy homes in particularly desirable areas. Spots near the beach or the river, for instance, but also places near where the jobs are.

People have been crowding into the big cities, trying to get close to the CBD with all its well-paid office jobs, but the older home owners fight hard to discourage governments from making room for younger newcomers. “It’s so ugly.”

And the bank of mum and dad (yes, I’ve done it) is helping prices stay high, while widening the divide between those young people with well-placed parents and those without.

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Interest rates: Lowe's not the problem, the system is rotten

When interest rates seem likely to be raised more than they need to be, it’s only human to blame the bloke with his hand on the lever, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe. But it’s delusional to imagine that fixing the problem with “monetary policy” is simply a matter of finding a better person to run it.

This assumes there’s nothing wrong with the policy of using the manipulation of mortgage interest rates as your main way of managing the economy and keeping inflation low and employment high. In truth, there’s a lot wrong with it.

It ought to be a happy coincidence that, just as our central bank is making heavy weather of its first big inflation problem in decades, the Albanese government had already commissioned a review of its performance.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers will receive its report late next month. But particularly because the review is headed by an overseas central banker, it’s likely to recommend relatively minor changes to the way the Reserve performs its present role – changing the composition of its board, for instance – rather than answer a more fundamental question: can’t we find a better way to manage the macroeconomy than relying so heavily on dicking around with interest rates?

It’s a pity you have to be as ancient me to know there’s nothing God-ordained about the notion that central banks must have primary responsibility for stabilising the economy, with the elected government’s “fiscal policy” (the manipulation of government spending and taxes) playing a subsidiary role, and the central bankers being independent of the elected government.

This arrangement became the conventional wisdom only in the mid-1980s, after many decades of relying mainly on using the budget, with monetary policy’s job being to keep interest rates permanently low.

The fact is that, as instruments for managing demand, monetary policy and fiscal policy have differing strengths and weaknesses. The switch from fiscal to monetary primacy seemed to make sense at the time, and to hold the promise of much more effective stabilisation of the economy as it moved through the ups and downs of the business cycle.

Then, we were very aware of the limitations of fiscal policy. But after 40 years, the limitations of monetary policy have become apparent. For one thing, we learnt from the weak growth in the decade following the global financial crisis that monetary policy is not effective in stimulating growth when interest rates are already very low and households already loaded with debt.

Now we have high inflation caused primarily by problems on the supply (production) side of the economy. Can monetary policy do anything to fix supply problems? No. All it can do is keep raising interest rates until the demand for goods and services falls back to fit with inadequate supply.

But as a tool for limiting demand, monetary policy turns out to be primitive, blunt and unfair. Its manipulation of interest rates has little effect on borrowing for business investment, and little direct effect on all consumer spending except spending on mortgaged or rented housing.

In practice, this means monetary policy relies on manipulating the housing market to influence consumer spending indirectly. When you want to encourage demand, you cut mortgage interest rates to rev up the housing market. When you want to discourage demand, you raise rates to smash the housing market.

Putting up mortgage interest rates discourages people from buying housing – including newly built homes, which hits the home-building industry directly. But by increasing mortgage payments and rents, it hits consumer spending indirectly, by leaving households with less to spend on other things.

See how round-about monetary policy is in achieving its objective? It hits some people hard, but others not at all. As a reader wrote to me: “It just doesn’t make sense to me that one segment of the population is going through financial pain and suffering when others aren’t affected. Surely, there are [other] ways the government or Reserve Bank can bring inflation under control?”

Good point. Why does stabilising the economy have to be done in such a round-about and inequitable manner? As other readers would tell me, why do older people dependent on interest income have to take a hit whenever the Reserve decides to encourage borrowing and spending by cutting interest rates?

Truth is, central banks can’t afford to worry about whether dicking around with interest rates is fair or unfair: it’s the only tool they’ve got. To someone with a hammer, every problem is a nail.

And although economists have forgotten it, there are other, less round-about and less unfair ways to discourage or encourage consumer spending. In the olden days, governments added a temporary surcharge or discount to the income tax scale.

These days, you could do the same to the rate of the goods and services tax. If you didn’t trust the pollies to do it, you could give the power to an independent commission.

The Reserve rightly asserts that many of the price rises we’ve seen can’t be explained by supply problems, but must be attributed to excessive demand, caused by all the stimulus unleashed during the pandemic.

It fits the monetary policy-primacy mindset to blame this on excessive fiscal stimulus via all the temporary government spending and tax breaks. But a much better case can be made that the excess came from monetary policy.

Indeed, the response to the pandemic may have been far less inflationary than it proved to be had the Reserve left it all to fiscal policy. Since, with the official interest rate already down to 0.75 per cent, it was already almost out of ammunition, I expected the Reserve to sit it out and leave the heavy lifting to fiscal policy.

But no, like the other rich-country central banks, the Reserve leapt in. And, not content with cutting the official rate to 0.1 per cent, it resorted to various unconventional measures, lending to the banks at discount rates and buying several hundred billions-worth of government bonds to lower also multi-year housing fixed interest rates.

While the Reserve was doing this, both federal and state governments were offering people special concessions to buy newly built homes. The combined effect was to give the housing industry a humungous boost. House prices soared, as did the cost of a new home once the supply of building materials and labour ran out.

Guess what? If you take the part of our rise in consumer prices that can’t be attributed to supply problems and imported inflation, you find much of it’s explained by the cost of building a new home, which rose by an amazing 27 per cent over the 18 months to December.

It’s reasonable to believe that our inflation wouldn’t be nearly as bad, had the Reserve left the coronacession to fiscal policy, as it should have. Why didn’t it? Because it, like the other rich-country central banks, now thinks it owns macroeconomic management.

It just had to be out there, pushing the treasurer and Treasury away from the microphone and showing it was in charge – while it made matters worse. This is the central banking problem we - and the other rich countries - should be grappling with.

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The cost of living isn't as high as we've been told

So, as we learnt the day after the budget, the cost of living leapt by 7.3 per cent over the past year, right? Wrong. Last week we were told it’s gone up no more than 6.7 per cent for employees, and 6.4 per cent for pensioners and others on benefits.

The 7.3 per cent came from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, and was the rise in the consumer price index over the year to the end of September. The other figures also came from the bureau, and were for the rise in the “living cost index” over the same period for certain types of households.

Why weren’t you told about the second lot? Because the media wanted to avoid confusing you – and because they were better news rather than worse.

Huh? What’s going on? We’re used to using the consumer price index (CPI) as a measure of the cost of living. But the bureau knows it’s not. So, a week later, it always issues its living-cost indexes for key household types – which the media always ignore.

Usually, the differences from the CPI aren’t big enough to worry about. But now they are. Why? Because mortgage interest rates are increasing rapidly. And mortgage interest charges are the main difference between the two measures.

Before late-1998, the CPI measured the housing costs of owner-occupiers according to the interest they paid on their mortgages. But this was changed at the behest of the Reserve Bank, which didn’t want its measure of inflation to go up every time it raised interest rates to get inflation down.

So, since then, the bureau has measured owner-occupiers’ housing costs by taking the price of building a new house or unit. This doesn’t make much sense, since not many people buy a newly built home each quarter. Many of us have never bought a newly built home.

This is why the bureau also calculates separate cost of living indexes, using the same prices as the CPI, but restoring mortgage interest charges, as well as giving the prices different weights to take account of the differing spending patterns of particular household types, such as age pensioners.

New dwelling prices rose by almost 21 per cent over the year to September, meaning they accounted for a quarter of the 7.3 per cent rise in the CPI. By contrast, the mortgage interest charges paid by employee households rose by more than 23 per cent, but contributed only 12 per cent (0.8 percentage points) of the 6.7 per cent rise in their total costs.

Get it? Since mortgage interest charges are a more accurate guide to the costs of owner-occupiers than new-home prices are, the CPI is significantly overstating the rise in the living costs of everyone, from employees to people on social security (and the self-proclaimed “self-funded” retirees, for that matter).

This is a sliver of good news about the extent of cost-of-living pressure on households. It’s better news for people on indexed pensions and benefits: they’ll get what amounts to a small real increase.

But it raises an obvious question: why on earth has the cost of newly built homes shot up by 21 per cent over the past year? After all, this has added hugely to the Reserve Bank’s need to fight inflation by raising interest rates, to the tune of 2.75 percentage points so far.

It’s true the pandemic has caused shortages of imported building materials, but the real blame is down to the economic mangers’ appalling own goal in using grants, tax breaks and cuts in interest rates to rev up the home building industry far beyond its capacity to expand.

It got a huge pipeline of unfilled orders and whacked up its prices, adding no less than a quarter to our soaring inflation rate. Well done, guys.

This raises a less obvious question: federal and state governments were spending unprecedented billions to hold the economy together during the pandemic and its lockdowns. With the official interest rate already down to 0.75 per cent without doing much good, was it really necessary to cut the rate to 0.1 per cent and engage in all that unconventional money creation?

It makes a good case for the new view that, while monetary policy works well when you want to slow demand, it doesn’t work well when you wish to speed it up. Especially when rates are already so low and households already so heavily indebted.

This is something those reviewing the Reserve Bank should be considering.

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The knowledge economy is behind the soaring price of land

Over the two centuries and more that people have made a serious study of how the economy works, economists have fallen in and out of love with land. At first, they thought it was at the centre of everything, then they decided it wasn’t terribly important. But the wheel may be turning again. In a major speech last month, the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates criticised his profession for its “longstanding intellectual neglect of the economics of land”.

You don’t have to think about housing affordability for long to realise it is not actually the high cost of building a house that’s the problem, it’s the high cost of the land it’s built on.

But why is the cost of land rising much faster than the economy is growing? And why don’t economists take more interest in why this is happening and what we could do about it?

Coates began the annual Henry George Lecture by summarising the history of economists’ waxing and waning interest in land as a resource used to produce goods and services.

The first economists – the Physiocrats – thought of almost nothing other than land, he says. Land was fundamental: agricultural labourers were the source of economic growth, while landlords simply commandeered what the workers produced and flowed it through to the rest of the economy.

The next generation of economists, the “classical” economists of the 18th century, broadened their focus to studying the complex interaction of three “factors of production”: land, labour and (physical) capital.

Adam Smith, a Scotsman known as the father of economics, argued that the “division of labour” – workers specialising in different occupations – and technological innovation were what drove economic growth. But land was still central.

David Ricardo, an English member of parliament, argued that landlords were simply the lucky beneficiaries of land’s natural scarcity (any country has only a fixed amount of it) and its productive capacity, to produce food and fibre and even valuable energy and minerals, Coates says.

And Henry George, the last great classical economist, argued that the rental income enjoyed by landlords must be socialised by taxing the unimproved value of all privately owned land.

Do that, and you wouldn’t need any other taxes. George campaigned hard, but never persuaded any government to follow his advice.

Coates says we “would have done well – possibly much better than we have done – if we’d heeded the lessons of Henry George and paid more attention to the economics of land”.

But in the 19th century the classical economists were replaced by the neo-classical economists, who were a lot less interested in land. And in 1956, the great American economist Robert Solow developed a theory of economic growth, which held that it was improvements in the efficiency with which labour and physical capital (machines and buildings) were combined that drove our standard of living.

The role of land in production - and in inequality - disappeared from the theories economists devised to explain the world, Coates says. Instead, land was treated as just another form of physical capital.

Coates says that “the shifting focus on land in the history of economic thought reflects the changing nature of the economies that economists were trying to explain”.

The Physiocrats observed a world dominated by agriculture. It was obvious that the ownership and use of land determined what got produced, in what quantities. And who got what.

The classical economists watched this world transition through the Industrial Revolution, and the neo-classical economists developed theories for a world that had made that transition.

Economic power started to gravitate towards those who owned capital (whether physical or financial) and away from those who owned land. Agricultural production made way for industrial production.

For most of the 20th century, the neglect of land was of little consequence. More important was the amount of capital invested (to make labour more productive) and the pace of innovation (ditto).

“But as the advanced economies of the world have transitioned again – from manufacturing to services – land is back,” Coates says. Economies powered by intangible capital – how much you know; how much information you can gather – strive or stagnate on the ability of individuals to come together and combine their knowledge and skills.

As any real estate agent will tell you, it’s about “location, location, location”. In Australia, it’s the Grattan Institute that’s done most to help us see that, these days, it’s big cities that drive the economy.

Eighty per cent of the value of all goods and services produced in Australia is generated on just 0.2 per cent of our land. Economic activity is concentrated in CBDs, with the Sydney and Melbourne CBDs accounting for 10 per cent of all economic activity in Australia – more than three times the contribution of agriculture.

This concentration reflects the rise in knowledge-intensive services, clustered together at the hearts of our major cities. The willingness of businesses to pay high rents to locate in the CBDs of our big cities shows the value they gain from access to high-skilled workers and proximity to suppliers, customers and partners.

Similarly, the willingness of workers to pay much higher prices for homes located close to those employment centres shows they, too, see value in being crammed in. Our experience of working from home during the pandemic has changed this a bit – three days in the office rather than five – but not a lot.

All this helps explain why house prices have risen about five times faster than average full-time earnings over the past 25 years. And it means the price of land is a much bigger factor in the economy than it used to be.

It’s leaving existing home owners seemingly much better off, but aspiring home owners much worse off. It’s the product of a clash between the rise of the knowledge economy and our longstanding attitudes towards the taxing and regulation of land.

It should not be beyond the wit of economists to come up with a better approach.

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Great Aussie Pipedream: rising house prices make us feel wealthier

I guess you’ve heard. Isn’t it great? Australians are now the richest people in the world. But if you find that hard to believe, congratulations. Your bulldust detector’s working fine.

According to Credit Suisse’s annual global wealth report, which tracks wealth in 20 countries, last year the typical adult Australian’s wealth – assets minus debts – reached almost $336,000.

Soaring property prices lifted our median wealth by $38,000, enough to put us just ahead of Belgium and New Zealand. Our residential property prices rose by almost 24 per cent during the year.

We had about 2.2 million millionaires – measured in US dollars – up from 1.8 million in 2020.

So, what’s the catch? Well, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with the bank’s calculations. And there’s no denying we’re a rich country, whether by this you mean our annual income, or the value of the net assets, physical and financial, of our households.

No, the problem is that so much of our wealth comes from the value of our home. Do you believe our homes are so much bigger or better, or better located, than homes in North America or Europe?

I doubt it. If not, then what we’re really saying is that the land on which our homes are built is much better than the land on which the Americans and Germans – and Kiwis – have built their homes.

Really? We have better views? Better soil quality? Less chance of getting flooded or burnt out?

No. If the market price of our residential land is higher than their market price, it’s just because we’ve bid our prices up higher than they have theirs.

And how exactly does doing that make Australians richer than people in other countries? If it does, why don’t we keep bidding our prices up until we’re twice as rich as we are now?

See what I’m saying? It’s not something economists talk about much but, as former Reserve Bank heavy Dr Tony Richards explained in a speech many moons ago, the notion that the high prices we charge and pay each other for our homes makes the nation richer is an illusion.

“The increase in housing prices has been a mixed blessing for Australians. At one level, rising housing prices have made many people feel [note that word] wealthier and have contributed to higher levels of consumer spending than might otherwise have occurred. But they have also resulted in concerns about housing affordability,” he said.

“The difference in views reflects the fact that housing is not just an asset but also a consumption item. When housing is thought of purely as a consumption item, it would seem that in aggregate we would be better off if its price were lower.

“Because we all need to consume some level of housing services, either rented or purchased, a higher level of housing prices and rents allows less spending on other items.”

Get it? It seems that, as a nation, Australians value owning their own home, and making sure it’s a good one, more than the people in many other rich countries do.

In consequence, we devote more of our incomes to housing than they do, meaning we spend a smaller proportion of our incomes on everything else. So, to that extent, home ownership really is the Great Australian Dream.

It’s because, as a nation, we can never spend enough on improving our own housing position – although how much we can pay is held back by how much our income allows us to borrow – that house prices have become so sensitive to the rate of interest on home loans.

When rates come down a bit – even during a pandemic – our ability to borrow more prompts more aggressive bidding against other would-be owners, pushing prices up. When, as now, interest rates start going up again, thus reducing how much we can borrow, house prices fall back a bit.

Although there’ve been times when we’ve let our building of extra homes fall behind the growth in our population, over the longer term we’ve managed to keep the two pretty much in line.

So, house prices aren’t high because we don’t have enough houses to accommodate every household. They’re high because some houses are better than others – bigger, newer, flashier, or better located, nearer the beach, nearer other well-off people, or nearer the centre of the city – and we compete with others to get the best we can (barely) afford. And because many home owners want to own more than one, as an investment.

As well, prices in the most desirable parts of the city are higher because of government restrictions on packing in more households by building up rather than out.

But here’s the punchline. Just because higher house prices don’t make us wealthier as a nation, this doesn’t stop them making some Aussies wealthier than other Aussies. Which, for many of us, is what we’re after. Housing is one of the main things we’ve allowed to widen the gap between rich and poor.

And I thought we were supposed to be proud of our Aussie egalitarianism.

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Monetary policy is no longer fit for purpose

It’s an outstanding feature of the modern economy: the multitude of people who could do a far better job of running interest rates than the fool they’ve got doing it at the moment. Welcome to the inquiry into the performance of the Reserve Bank.

One small problem. About half governor Dr Philip Lowe’s critics complain he was too slow putting rates down, while the other half say he was too slow putting them up. Since interest rates are a cost to borrowers but income to savers, it’s hardly surprising that, whichever way the Reserve jumps, many will be complaining.

To be clear, it’s always a good idea to review regularly the performance of an institution with as much power over our lives as the central bank.

But equally, the inquiry needs to focus on the right question. Some critics just want someone to agree with them that the Reserve could have done a better job in recent years. Others – particularly academics specialising in monetary economics – want to argue about the mechanics.

Should we change the monetary target? Since the Reserve’s procedures aren’t identical to the US Federal Reserve’s, doesn’t that mean we’re doing it wrong? Why stack the Reserve’s board with business worthies when it would make much better decisions if you stacked it with academic experts like me and my mates?

Leaving aside those who just care about how much interest they’re paying or receiving, most of those who were pushing for the inquiry have a vested interest in monetary policy continuing to be the dominant instrument used in the year-to-year management of demand. They need monetary policy to stay dominant because their living depends on it.

But monetary policy’s role in the “policy mix” is the most important question. Just as much of the pomp and pageantry we’ve been watching isn’t as ancient as many monarchists imagine, monetary policy has been the main instrument used to manage demand only since the late 1970s.

Before then, fiscal (budgetary) policy was dominant, with monetary policy an afterthought, and the central bank a vassal of Treasury. The switch made sense then, but does it still?

And even then, we got off on the wrong foot, starting by trying to control the supply of money, which didn’t work. We didn’t switch the focus to controlling interest rates until the early ’80s. The inflation target came in the mid-90s, and it wasn’t until 1997 that the Reserve’s independence from the elected government was formalised.

It would be nice to imagine we’re gradually closing in on the one right way to manage the economy, but this would be a delusion. History tells us we keep changing the way we do it to better fit the particular problems of the era. Indeed, it wasn’t until the late 1940s that everyone agreed there was a macroeconomy that needed managing.

The two main “arms” of macro management (we abandoned the third arm, exchange rate policy, in 1983 when maintaining a fixed exchange rate became impossible) have different strengths and weakness.

The great advantage of monetary policy is that the econocrats who run it can ignore the electoral cycle. It can also be adjusted quickly and easily. But after acknowledging that, it’s otherwise inferior to fiscal policy. It can’t be targeted at particular regions or industries, and it takes longer to do what you need it to – with the notable exception of house prices.

Our present problem of sudden, high inflation – caused by disruptions to the supply (production) side of the economy being exacerbated by an overstimulated demand (spending) side – well demonstrates the bluntness, crudeness and unfairness of monetary policy.

This raises two questions. Did we need to use both arms of policy to respond to the pandemic? And how much of our present excess demand can be attributed to monetary policy?

The econocrats defend what, with hindsight, was clearly too much stimulus, by saying they didn’t know how much economic disruption the pandemic would cause, the medicos initially led them to believe it could be much worse than it turned out to be and, anyway, it’s better to err on the side of doing too much than too little.

But none of that says we had to overdo it on both barrels. With the official interest rate already down to 0.75 per cent before the virus arrived, it was clear the Reserve was almost out of ammo. I imagined it would have little more to contribute, leaving fiscal policy to do all the heavy lifting. As it did.

But no, the Reserve rode to the rescue as though it was the only knight that could find a horse. It slashed rates to near zero, offered cheap loans to the banks and, before long, joined the bigger central banks in buying government bonds with created money, to lower longer-term interest rates.

At the time, I wondered whether this was just institutional turf protection. It was the Reserve’s job to be the chief demand manager, and it wasn’t going to sit out the biggest crisis in ages just because it had run out of ammo. We’ll find something we can make into bullets.

Looking back, I suspect the Reserve’s determination not to be left out of the party has added greatly to our new problem and to the pain it’s inflicting on us to fix the problem. When you boil it down, one of the main “channels” through which monetary policy influences demand is by interfering in the cost of housing.

The Reserve is right to say interest rates aren’t the primary cause of high house prices, but because monetary policy is such a one-trick pony, it can only ignore all the pain it inflicts by causing prices to soar when it cuts rates and fall when it raises them.

Between the two arms, they’ve revved up the housing industry, only now to be hitting the brakes. They’ve caused surprisingly few extra homes to be built, but pushed up the price of new homes by 20 per cent, adding 1.8 percentage points to the 6.1 per cent inflation rate.

According to Professor Simon Wren-Lewis, of Oxford, the old consensus among academics that monetary policy should take the lead in demand management, has been replaced by one where interest rates are the favoured instrument to deal with inflation – as now – but fiscal policy should be the main weapon used to fight recessions. Or lockdowns.

Point is, had we followed that rule during the pandemic, we’d now have a much smaller inflation problem. Something the inquiry should ponder. And whether resorting to “unconventional measures” was ever a smart idea.

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A home of one's own: So good only the rich need apply

Slowly – but sooner than you may think – this country, so proud to be a nation of home owners, is turning into a nation of renters.

Perversely, it’s happening because we value home ownership so highly. And we’ve never much worried about what happens to those who don’t make it onto the home owners’ merry-go-round.

Historically, the reason we want so much to own the home we live in is security of tenure. We don’t want to be beholden to a landlord deciding whether we stay or must go.

We don’t want to live in a place where someone else decides if we can have a pet, whether we can knock a nail into a wall, whether the place needs a coat of paint, or when they’ll get around to fixing the leaky toilet.

That’s always been the chief reason for wanting to own the place you live in. What’s changed is that a second motivation has become more prominent in our minds: homes turn out to be a good investment, a good place to put your savings and watch them grow.

Whereas the value of shares goes up and down with the vagaries of the sharemarket, the price of homes just keeps going up and up. (As we’re seeing now, that’s not quite true, but we still believe it.)

And because home ownership is such a national priority, it comes with many exemptions. When we decided to start taxing capital gains in the mid-1980s, we exempted the family home. And, unlike other assets, the home you own is largely ignored when assessing your eligibility for the age pension.

Any savings I invest in making my principal residence bigger and better won’t be subject to gains tax, as most other investments would.

Actually, homes are such a good investment, why don’t I invest in more than one? I’ll have to pay gains tax when I sell, but this time I’ll get a tax deduction on the mortgage interest I pay.

And naturally, being a home owner with a big investment, I’ll make sure the local council knows how opposed I am to people building those terrible high-rises anywhere near my place.

See what happens? The more benefits we attach to home ownership and the more people want to own a house or three, the more they bid up the price of houses. That makes being on the home owners’ merry-go-round an ever-better investment, but that much harder for others to climb aboard.

The more we favour home owners, the more we disadvantage renters. The more we encourage multiple home owning by those who can afford it – which most rich countries stopped doing long ago – the more unaffordable buying your first home becomes.

But not to worry. I’ll just give my kids a leg up in putting a deposit together. Of course, this just keeps home prices high and makes those kids without well-off parents worse off. Tough.

The other thing it does is more sharply divide Australia by making home ownership something only the well-off can afford.

Why don’t the politicians do something about it? Because that would involve reducing the privileges of existing home owners, who’d fight it all the way, led by real estate agents and developers.

There’s always been a minority of life-long renters but, home ownership being the national obsession it is, we’ve never worried about them. Renters have much greater legal rights in other rich countries than they do here, but that’s never bothered us. Renters, we happily assume, are just youngsters on their way to their first home.

This was never true, but it becomes more untrue as each census passes. In a major speech last week, the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates said “home ownership rates are falling fast, especially among the young and poor”.

Over the 40 years to 2021, home ownership rates among 25- to 34-year-olds fell from more than 60 per cent to 40 per cent. Among the lowest-paid 40 per cent of that age group, it has more than halved, from 67 per cent to 28 per cent, Coates said.

Last year’s census shows we’ve started seeing accelerating declines among middle-income households too, with noticeable falls in home ownership at all age levels, including older middle-income households.

The proportion of people who reach retirement never having been able to afford a home is increasing, as is the proportion of home owners retiring with unpaid home loans.

I wouldn’t like to be in the shoes of the 70-year-old pensioner living in a small town, who told Tenants Victoria she had to work two days a week to afford the ever-increasing rent on a granny flat in an old house.

We can keep ignoring the poor treatment of renters because they’ll soon get a place of their own, or we can take the controversial measures needed to stop housing from becoming ever-more unaffordable.

But even if we put through all the necessary changes tomorrow, we’d still end up with many more people spending most of their life as a tenant. Time we cared about renters.

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Don't worry about inflation, the punters will be made to pay for it

Our sudden, shocking encounter with high inflation has brought to light a disturbing truth: we now have a dysfunctional economy, in which big business has gained too much power over the prices it can charge, while the nation’s households have lost what power they had to protecting their incomes from inflation.

It has also revealed the limitations and crudity of the main instrument we’ve used to manage the macro economy for the past 40 years: monetary policy – the manipulation of interest rates by the central bank.

We’ve been reminded that monetary policy can’t fix problems on the supply (production) side of the economy. Nor can it fix problems arising from the underlying structure of how the economy works.

All it can do is use interest rates to speed up or slow down the demand (spending) side of the economy. And even there, it has little direct effect on the spending of governments or on the investment spending of businesses.

Its control over interest rates gives it direct influence only on the spending of households. And, for the most part, that means spending that has to be done on borrowed money: buying a home. But also, renting a home some landlord has borrowed to buy.

Get it? The Reserve Bank of Australia’s governor’s power to manipulate interest rates largely boils down to influencing how much households spend on their biggest single item of spending: housing. Because no one wants to be homeless, using interest rates to increase the cost of housing leaves people with less to spend on everything else.

This means the governor has little direct influence over big business’s ability to take advantage of strong demand to widen its profit margins. He must get at businesses indirectly, via his power to reduce their customers’ ability to keep buying their products.

Get it? Households are the meat in the sandwich between the Reserve and big business (with small business using the cover of big business’s big price hikes to sneak up their own profit margins).

Join the dots, and you realise the Reserve’s plan to get inflation down quickly involves allowing a transfer of many billions from the pockets of households to the profits of big business.

On one hand, big business has been allowed to raise its prices by more than needed to cover the jump in its costs arising from the supply disruptions of the pandemic and the Ukraine war. On the other, the loss of union bargaining power means big business has had little trouble ensuring its wage bill rises at a much lower rate than retail prices have.

So, it’s households that are picking up the tab for the Reserve’s solution to the inflation problem. They’ll pay for it with higher mortgage interest rates and rents, and a fall in the value of their homes, but mainly by having their wages rise by a lot less than the rise in their cost of living.

The RBA’s unspoken game plan is to squeeze households until demand for goods and services has weakened to the point where big business decides that raising its prices to increase its profits would cost it so many sales that it would be left worse off.

It may even come to pass that households have been squeezed so badly big businesses’ sales start falling, and some of them decide that cutting their price to win back sales would leave them better off.

In economists’ notation, maximising profits – or minimising losses – is all about finding the best combination of “p” (price) and “q” (quantity demanded).

You don’t believe big businesses ever cut their prices? It’s common for them to “discount” their prices in ways that disguise their retreat, using special offers, holding sales, and otherwise allowing a gap between their advertised price and the price many customers actually pay.

But why would that nice mother’s boy Dr Philip Lowe, whose statutory duty is to ensure that monetary policy is directed to “the greatest advantage of the people of Australia”, impose so much pain on so many ordinary people, who played no part in causing the problem he’s grappling with?

Because, as all central bankers do, he sees keeping inflation low as his central responsibility. And he doesn’t see any other way to stop prices rising so rapidly. It’s a case study in just what a crude, inadequate and blunt instrument monetary policy is.

Lowe justifies his measures to reduce inflation quickly by saying this will avoid a recession. But let’s not kid ourselves. This massive transfer of income from households to business profits will deal a great blow to the economy.

After going nowhere much for almost a decade, real household disposable income is now expected to fall for two years in a row. And who knows if there’ll be a third.

Economists have made much of the extra saving households did during the pandemic. But during Lowe’s appearance before the parliamentary economics committee on Friday, it was revealed that about 80 per cent of that extra $270 billion in saving was done by the 40 per cent of households with the highest incomes. So, how much of it ends up being spent is open to question.

The likelihood that our measures to weaken household spending will lead to a recession must be very high.

Until Lowe’s remarks before the committee on Friday, his commentary on the causes and cure of inflation seemed terribly one-sided. The key to reducing inflation was ensuring wages didn’t rise by as much as prices had, so that rising inflation expectations wouldn’t lead to a wage-price spiral.

He warned that the higher wages rose, the higher he’d have to raise interest rates. He lectured the unions, saying they needed to be “flexible” in their wage demands. You could see this as giving an official blessing to businesses resisting union pressure and granting pay rises far lower than prices had risen.

Lowe could just as easily have lectured business to be “flexible” in passing on all the higher cost of their imported inputs, when these were expected to be temporary – but he didn’t. He’s always quoting what business people are saying to him, but never what union leaders say – perhaps because he never talks to them.

But on Friday he evened up the record. “It is also important to note that, to date, the stronger growth in wages has not been a major factor driving inflation higher,” he said. “Businesses, too, have a role in avoiding these damaging outcomes, by not using the higher inflation as cover for an increase in profit margins.”

That’s his first-ever admission that, when conditions allow, business has the market power to raise its prices by more than just its rising costs. Problem is, monetary policy’s only solution to this structural weakness – caused by inadequate competitive pressure – is to keep demand perpetually weak.

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The housing dream that became a nightmare - and isn't over yet

If you think the rich are getting richer, you’re right – but maybe not for the reason you think. It’s mainly the rising price of housing, which is steadily reshaping our society, and not for the better.

We know how unaffordable home ownership has become, but that’s just the bit you can see, as the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates outlined in the annual Henry George lecture this week, “The Great Australian Nightmare”, a magisterial survey of housing and its many implications.

But first, let’s be clear what we mean by “the rich”. Is it those who have the most annual income, or those who have the most wealth – assets less debts and other liabilities? The two are related, but not the same. It’s possible to be “asset rich, but income poor” – particularly if you’re living in your main asset, as many oldies are.

The Productivity Commission argues that the distribution of income hasn’t got much more unequal in the past couple of decades, though Bureau of Statistics’ figures for the growth in household disposable income over the 16 years to 2019-20 seem pretty unequal to me.

They show the real income of the bottom quintile (20 per cent block) grew by 26 per cent, which wasn’t much less than for the middle three quintiles, but a lot less than the 47 per cent growth for the top quintile.

Two points. One, the top one percentile – the chief executive class – probably had increases far greater than 47 per cent, which pushed up the average increase for the next 19 percentiles.

It’s CEO pay rises that get publicised and leave many people convinced the rich are getting richer – which they are.

The other point is Coates’: if you take real household disposable income after allowing for housing costs, you see a much clearer gradient running from the lowest quintile to the highest.

The increase in the bottom quintile’s income drops from 26 per cent to 12 per cent, whereas the top quintile’s growth drops only from 47 per cent to 43 per cent.

Get it? The rising cost of housing – whether mortgage payments or payments of rent – takes a much bigger bite out of low incomes than high incomes.

“People on low incomes – increasingly, renters – are spending more of their income on housing,” Coates says.

But it’s when you turn from income to wealth that you really see the rich getting richer. Whereas the net wealth of the poorest quintile of households rose by less than 10 per cent, the richest quintile rose by almost 60 per cent.

And here’s the kicker: almost all of that huge increase came from rising property values.

Other figures show that, before the pandemic, the total wealth of all Australian households was $14.9 trillion. Within that, the value of housing accounted for nearly $10 trillion.

Over the past 50 years, average full-time wages have doubled in real terms. But house prices have quadrupled – with most of that growth over the past 25 years.

Be clear on this: research confirms that the huge increases in home prices relative to incomes in advanced economies in the post-World War II period has mainly been driven by rising land values, accounting for about 80 per cent of growth since the 1950s, on average, with construction and replacement costs increasing only at the rate of inflation.

Coates reminds us that, within living memory, Australia was a place where housing costs were manageable, and people of all ages and incomes had a reasonable chance to own a home. These days, plenty of people even on middle incomes can’t manage it.

It’s obvious that the better-off can afford bigger and better homes than the rest of us. Many probably also have an investment property or three.

But it’s worse than that. Coates says the growing divide between those who make it to home ownership and those who don’t risks becoming entrenched as wealth is passed on to the next generation.

An increasing share of our wealth is in the hands of the Baby Boomers and older generations. The swelling of our national household wealth to $14.9 trillion – largely concentrated among older groups – means there's an awfully big pot of wealth to be passed on, he says.

“Big inheritances boost the jackpot from the birth lottery. Richer parents tend to have richer children. Among those who received an inheritance over the past decade, the wealthiest 20 per cent received, on average, three times as much as the poorest 20 per cent.”

In fact, one recent study estimates that 10 per cent of all inheritances will account for as much as half the value of bequests from today’s retirees, he says.

“And inheritances are increasingly coming later in life. As the miracles of modern medicine have extended life expectancy, the age at which children inherit has increased.

“The most common age to receive an inheritance is late-50s or early-60s – much later than the money is needed to ease the mid-life squeeze of housing and children.”

Coates says large intergenerational wealth transfers can change the shape of society. They mean that a person’s economic position can relate more to who their parents are than their own talent or hard work.

Coates argues that the ever-growing unaffordability of housing caused by present policies – which politicians on both sides keep promising to fix, but never do – is not just making our society increasingly divided between rich and poor, it’s also making the economy less efficient.

In modern, service-based and information-dependent economies, “economies of agglomeration” – benefits from firms and people living and working close together – mean productivity, innovation and wages are greatest in big cities.

But if we don’t pack in enough housing, and so cause house prices to go sky high, we don’t get all the benefits. Long commutes make it harder for both parents to work. The economy becomes less “dynamic”, and productivity is slow to improve. Not smart.

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Consumers and Russians keep the economy roaring - but it can't last

They say never judge a book by its cover. Seems the same goes for GDP. This week’s figures showed super-strong growth in the three months to the end of June. But look under the bonnet and you find the economy’s engine was firing on only two cylinders.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts”, real gross domestic product – the economy’s production of goods and services – grew by 0.9 per cent in the June quarter, and by 3.6 per cent over the year to June.

If that doesn’t impress you, it should. Over the past decade, growth has averaged only 2.3 per cent a year.

The main thing driving that growth was consumer spending. It grew by 2.2 per cent in the quarter and by 6 per cent over the year, as the nation’s households – previously cashed up by government handouts, and by most people keeping their jobs and others finding one, but prevented from spending the cash by intermittent lockdowns and closed state and national borders – kept desperately trying to catch up with all they’d been missing.

The other big contribution to growth during the quarter came from a 5.5 per cent jump in the “volume” (quantity) of our exports. Most of the credit for this goes to that wonderful man Vladimir Putin, whose bloody invasion of Ukraine has greatly disrupted world fossil fuel markets, thus greatly increasing our sales of coal and gas.

(It has also greatly increased the world prices of coal and gas and grains, causing our “terms of trade” – the prices we receive for our exports relative to the prices we pay for our imports – to improve by 4.6 per cent during the quarter, to an all-time high.)

But that’s where the good news stops. The other cylinders driving the economy’s engine have been on the blink. A marked slowdown in the rate at which businesses were building up their inventories of raw materials and finished goods led to a sharp slowdown in goods production.

Government spending took a breather, and an increase in business investment in new plant and equipment was offset by a fall in business investment in buildings and other construction.

And then there’s what happened to home building. Despite a big pipeline of homes waiting to be built, building activity actually declined by 2.9 per cent in the quarter and 4.6 per cent over the year.

Huh? How could that happen? Well, the builders say they couldn’t find enough building materials and tradies. Which hasn’t stopped them using the opportunity to whack up their prices. (I believe this is called “capitalism”.)

So, while we listen to lectures from the economic managers about the evil of inflation and how it leaves them with no choice but to slow everything down by jacking up interest rates, let’s not forget that the big jump in the cost of new homes and renovations has been caused by... them.

They’re the ones who, at the start of the pandemic and the lockdowns, decided it would be a great idea to rev up the housing industry, by offering incentives to people buying new houses, and by cutting the official interest rate to near zero. Well done, guys.

Speaking of higher interest rates being used to slow down the growth in demand for goods and services, the first two of the five rises we’ve had so far would have had little influence on what happened in the economy over the three months to June.

But don’t worry, they’ll have their expected effect in due course. Which is the first reason the strong, consumer-led growth we saw last quarter won’t last, even if we see more of it in the present quarter.

Another reason is that households are running on what a cook would call stored heat. During the first, national lockdown, the proportion of household disposable (after-tax) income that we saved rather than spent leapt to almost 24 per cent.

We’ve been cutting our rate of saving since then, and it’s now down to 8.7 per cent. This isn’t a lot higher than it was before the pandemic. And with the gathering fall in house prices making people feel less wealthy, it wouldn’t surprise me to see people feeling they shouldn’t cut their rate of saving too much further.

And that, of course, is before we get to the other great source of pressure on households’ budgets: consumer prices are rising faster than workers’ wages. This no doubt explains why our households’ real disposable income has actually fallen for three quarters in a row.

With businesses putting up their prices, but not adequately compensating their workers for the higher cost of living, it’s not surprising so many people are taking more interest in what the national accounts tell us about how the nation’s income is being divided between capital and labour, profits and wages.

ACTU boss Sally McManus complains that workers now have the lowest share of GDP on record. It follows that the profits share of national income is the highest on record.

What doesn’t follow, however, is that any increase in profits must have come at the expense of workers and their wages. Profits are up this quarter mainly because, as we’ve seen, our miners’ export prices are way up, and so are their profits.

No, the better way to judge whether workers are getting their fair share is to look at what’s happened to “real unit labour costs” – employers’ labour costs, after allowing for inflation and the productivity of labour (that’s the per-unit bit).

Turns out that, since the end of 2019, employers’ real unit labour costs have fallen by 8.5 per cent. If workers were getting their fair share, this would have been little changed.

Short-changing households in this way is not how you keep consumer spending – and businesses’ turnover – ever onward and upward.

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Housing own goal worsens our inflation problem

A key part of the economic response to the pandemic was to rev up the housing industry. It’s boomed and now it’s busting. What’s been achieved? Mainly, a big, self-inflicted addition to our inflation problem.

That, and a lot of recent first-home buyers now getting their fingers burnt. Well done, guys.

It’s not a crime to be wise after the event. Indeed, it’s a crime not to be. As we all know, you learn more from your mistakes than your successes.

We have much to learn from our mishandling of the economic aspects of the pandemic. Because we had no experience of pandemics, our mistake was to treat the lockdowns as though they were just another recession. Turned out they’re very different.

Because downturns in home building and house prices often lead the economy into recession, then a recovery in home building leads it out, the managers of the macroeconomy assumed it would be the same this time.

The federal government offered HomeBuilder grants to people ordering new homes or major alterations. The state governments offered stamp duty concessions to first-home buyers, provided they were buying new homes.

But the doozy was the Reserve Bank’s decisions to cut the official interest rate from 0.75 per cent to 0.1 per cent, and then cut the base rate for 3- and 5-year fixed-rate mortgages.

By the end of last year, according to the Bureau of Statistics, the median house price in Sydney and Melbourne had jumped by more than 40 per cent. In the following quarter, it fell by 7 per cent in Sydney and 10 per cent in Melbourne. By all accounts, it has a lot further to fall.

Turning to building activity, we’ve seen a surge in the number of new private houses commenced per quarter, which jumped by two-thirds over the nine months to June 2021. Then it crashed over the following nine months, to be up only 14 per cent on where it was before the pandemic.

It’s no surprise commencements peaked in June 2021. Applications for the HomeBuilder grant closed 14 days into the quarter.

But to commence building a house is not necessarily to complete it a few months later. The real value of work done on new private houses per quarter rose by just 15 per cent over the nine months to June 2021. Nine months later, it was up 12 per cent on where it was before the pandemic.

For the most part, the home building industry kept working through the two big lockdowns. It seems that, between them, the nation’s macro managers took an industry that was plugging along well enough, revved it up enormously, but didn’t get it building all that many more houses, nor employing many more workers.

Perhaps it soon hit supply constraints – shortages of building materials and suitable labour. I don’t know if the industry was lobbying governments privately for special assistance, or whether it didn’t have to. Maybe pollies, federal and state, just instinctively rushed to its aid.

But I wonder if the builders didn’t particularly want to get much bigger. There are few industries more cyclical than home building. Builders are used to building activity going up and down and prices doing the same.

When demand is weak, they try to keep their team of workers and subbies together by cutting their prices, maybe even to below cost. Then, when demand is strong, they make up for it by charging all the market will bear.

It’s the height of neoclassical naivety to think it never crosses the mind of a “firm” existing outside the pages of a textbook that manipulating supply might be a profitable idea.

So maybe the builders found the thought of increasing their prices more attractive than the thought of building a bigger business to accommodate a temporary, policy-caused surge in demand.

They may have taken a lesson from those property developers with large holdings of undeveloped land on the fringes of big cities. Dr Cameron Murray, a research fellow in the Henry Halloran Trust at Sydney University, has demonstrated that the private land-bankers limit the regular release of land for development in a way that ensures the market’s never flooded and prices just keep rising.

So, back to our inflation problem. Whenever people say the recent huge surge in prices is caused largely by overseas disruptions to supply, which can’t be influenced by anything we do, and will eventually go away, the econocrats always reply that some price rises are the consequence of strong domestic demand.

That’s true. As I wrote last week, it seems clear many of our businesses – big and small – have used the cover of the big rises in the cost of their imported inputs to add a bit for luck as they pass them on to consumers.

But I saved for today the great sore thumb of excess demand adding to the price surge: the price of building a new home (excluding the cost of the land) or major renovations. This accounted for almost a third of the rise in the consumer price index in the June quarter, and jumped by more than 20 per cent over the year to June.

The price of newly built homes has a huge weight of almost 9 per cent in the CPI’s basket of goods and services, making it the highest-weighted single item in the basket. This implies that new house costs have added almost 2 percentage points of the total rise of 6.1 per cent.

When the econocrats worry about the domestic contribution to the price surge, they never admit how much of that problem has been caused by their own mishandling of the pandemic.

Indeed, when people argued that the main thing further cutting interest rates would achieve would be to increase house prices, the Reserve was unrepentant, arguing that raising house prices and demand for housing was one of the main “channels” through which lower rates lead to increased demand.

But the crazy thing is, this strange way of using the cost of a new dwelling to measure the cost of housing for home-buyers – which, I seem to recall, was introduced in 1998 after pressure from the Reserve – exaggerates the true cost for people with mortgages, especially at times like these.

Few people ever buy a new dwelling and, even if they do, rarely pay for it in cash rather borrowing the cost. This is one reason the bureau doesn’t regard the CPI as a good measure of the cost of living, but does publish separate living-cost indexes for certain types of households.

Ben Phillips, of the Centre for Economic Policy Research at the Australian National University, has used the bureau’s living-cost indexes to calculate that about 80 per cent of households had a living cost increase below the CPI’s rise of 6.1 per cent. The median (typical) increase over the past year was 4.7 per cent.

What trouble the econocrats get us into when they use housing as a macro managers’ plaything.

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An economy with falling real wages can’t be “strong”

The main message from this week’s “national accounts” is that the economy isn’t nearly as Strong – Strong with a capital S – as Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg unceasingly claimed it was during the election campaign. In truth, it’s coming down to Earth.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, real gross domestic product – the nation’s total production of goods and services – grew by 0.8 per cent during the three months to the end of March, to be up 3.3 per cent over the year.

Almost to a person, the business economists said – and the media echoed - this was “higher than expected”. But that just meant it was a fraction higher than they’d forecast a day or two before the announcement, once most of the building blocks for the figure had been revealed.

But as new Treasurer Dr Jim Chalmers has revealed, when Treasury was preparing its forecasts for the March 29 budget, it forecast growth of not 0.8 per cent for the quarter, but 1.8 per cent. Now that would have been strong.

True, if you compound 0.8 per cent, you get an annualised rate of 3.3 per cent. And that’s a lot higher than our average annual growth rate over the past decade of about 2.3 per cent.

But it’s high because the economy’s still completing its bounce-back from the two pandemic lockdowns when most people gained more income than they were allowed to go out and spend.

In other words, it’s a catch-up following highly unusual circumstances, which will stop once everyone’s caught up. It’s not an indication of what we can expect “going forward” as businesspeople love saying.

If you delve into what produced that 0.8 per cent result, you see we’re probably only a quarter or two away from returning to a much less Strong quarterly growth rate. Indeed, until we’ve fixed our problem of chronic weak wage growth, it’s likely to be quite Weak growth.

Growth during the quarter was led by a 1.5 per cent rise in consumer spending, which contributed 0.8 percentage points to the overall growth in real GDP. Pretty good, eh? Well, not really. Turns out real household disposable income actually fell by 0.9 per cent.

So the growth in consumer spending came from a 2 percentage-point fall in the rate of household saving during the quarter, to 11.4 per cent. Household saving leapt during the two lockdowns, from its pre-pandemic level of about 7 per cent.

This suggests it won’t be long before this honey pot’s been licked out. Note too, that consumer spending was very strong in the states still rebounding from last year’s lockdown – Victoria, NSW and the ACT – and particularly weak in the other states.

Why did real household disposable income fall during the quarter? Because real wages fell. The more they continue falling – as seems likely – the more continued growth in consumer spending will depend on households continuing to cut their saving. Sound sustainable to you?

The other big contributor to growth, of 1 percentage point, came from an increase in the inventories held by retailers and other businesses, caused by an easing of pandemic-related shortages of certain imported goods, including cars.

This is a sign of the economy returning to normal, but it’s a once-only adjustment, not a growth contribution that will continue quarter after quarter.

The third growth factor was a huge 2.7 per cent increase in government consumption spending, contributing 0.6 percentage points to overall growth.

Where did it come from? From increased health spending required by the Omicron variant and spending to help people affected by the floods in NSW and Queensland. Again, not something that will be happening every quarter – we hope.

With those three positive contributions adding up to a lot more than the final 0.8 per cent, there must have been some big negative contributions. Just one, actually. Net exports – exports minus imports – subtracted 1.7 percentage points.

The volume (quantity) of exports fell by 0.9 per cent, thus subtracting 0.2 percentage points from growth – mainly because the floods disrupted mineral exports.

The volume of imports jumped by 8.1 per cent, subtracting 1.5 percentage points from overall growth. Another sign of the economy returning to normal, with pandemic disruption easing and imports of cars (and their chips) resuming. Another once-off.

So, what else happened in the quarter? New home building activity fell by 1 per cent. The pipeline of new homes built up by lockdown-related government stimulus still contains homes yet to emerge, but the output has faltered because the industry’s at full capacity, with shortages of labour and materials.

Even so, with interest rates rising and house prices falling, you wouldn’t expect too many new building projects to be entering the pipeline. Housing won’t be a big part of the growth story “going forward”.

Business investment spending – mainly on plant and equipment – grew by 1.4 per cent during the quarter and by 3.6 per cent over the year. It will need to grow a lot faster than that if it’s to be a big part of the growth story.

The quarter saw the share of national income going to wages continuing to fall, while the share going to profits rose to a record high of 31.1 per cent.

On the face of it, that says the workers are being robbed. But the factors moving the respective shares are more complicated than that. For instance, all the growth in company profits during the quarter was from the mining industry. Coal, gas and iron ore commodity prices have jumped.

But a much less debatable indication that businesses are doing well at the expense of their employees comes from the 2 per cent fall in “real unit labour costs” – real labour costs per unit of production – during the quarter, and by 6 per cent since the start of the pandemic.

An economy whose strength comes from cutting its workers’ wages won’t stay Strong for long.

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