Our jobs market is booming, but the RBA needn't be so worried

Despite the economy only just popping its head up after 21 months of “per-person recession”, our jobs market has been going gangbusters. How can it possibly be so strong? It’s this strength that has made the Reserve Bank so reluctant to cut interest rates.

This week we learnt from the “national accounts” that the economy – real gross domestic product – grew by a princely 0.6 per cent during the three months to the end of December. This caused its annual rate of growth to jump from a very weak 0.8 per cent to a not-quite-so-weak 1.3 per cent.

Trouble is, until now, the economy’s growth hasn’t been enough to keep up with the growth in our population. So real GDP per person fell by 1.7 per cent over the seven quarters to last September, but – thank heavens! – rose by 0.1 per cent during the December quarter.

If we’re lucky, GDP per person will now keep going forward rather than backward in 2025.

But the weakness in economic growth – caused by the Reserve keeping its foot on the interest-rate brakes since May 2022, as it fought to get inflation down – simply doesn’t fit with our roaring jobs market.

Professor Jeff Borland, of the University of Melbourne, is probably the nation’s top expert on the labour market. So I asked him to explain this paradox.

To show just how strong the jobs market has been, Borland notes that, although the total number of people in Australia with jobs grew at a rate averaging about 2 per cent a year over the previous two decades, it grew by 3.5 per cent over the year to this January. It grew almost as fast over the past two years.

Of course, the rate at which the number of jobs increases is normally closely related to the rate at which the economy’s growing. Borland calculates that, had the usual relationship between the two held, you’d expect employment to have grown by 3.4 per cent since the end of 2021. Get this: the actual growth is 9.5 per cent. That’s gangbusters.

But why has employment been growing at such an extraordinary rate? Borland says it’s all to do with growth in the “non-market” part of the economy, which covers public administration and safety; healthcare and social assistance; and education and training.

Now, if you were Donald Trump or Elon Musk, you’d think this meant a massive increase in public servants sitting round drinking tea and not doing anything of any use to anyone.

If you had more sense, you’d know it’s mainly the growth in the “care economy” we keep hearing about. More people being employed in aged care, disability care and childcare. You’d know these women work their butts off helping our oldies, our kiddies and our disabled cousin.

The care economy’s growing because of the ageing of the population, because we need our women in the paid workforce not at home minding kids, and because we’ve decided the disabled should no longer be hidden away being looked after by some poor rello.

You’d remember the various royal commissions exposing the scandalously poor treatment of people in care, how neglected they were by the previous Liberal federal government, and how much the Albanese government has had to spend trying to catch up. (Note, “non-market” means many of these workers deliver a service you don’t pay for over the counter. But most of the extra workers would be working for private sector providers.)

Borland calculates that, had non-market sector employment grown at the same rate as the market sector, total employment would be almost 700,000 lower than it is.

But why hasn’t this massive growth in the workforce led to higher wage rates as workers were bid away from other employers? Borland says one reason is that there’s been a downward shift in the level of wage inflation for any given degree of tightness in the labour market. (Reserve Bank please note.)

He says workers in the non-market sector don’t push for pay rises the way workers in mining or the utilities or construction did in earlier times.

But for so much growth in employment to be possible, there has to be a supply of extra workers available. This extra supply means workers don’t need to be bid away from their present employer.

Guess what? Since the pandemic, we’ve had strong growth in the population due to high immigration. Borland calculates that population growth explains about half the employment growth from late 2021 to late 2022, all the employment growth from late 2022 to early last year, and since then, it’s been about three-quarters of the story.

What can’t be explained by population growth is explained by people already in Australia who didn’t have paid employment deciding that, since so many new jobs were available, they’d take one and make some money.

It’s no surprise that many of these extra workers are women. What’s surprising is there are now more blokes working in the care economy.

Further delving by Boland finds that a lot of the extra jobs have gone to people under 24, suggesting many education-leavers have been finding it easier to find work.

Cost-of-living pressures may have prompted people to take a job. And the rise of working from home seems to have enabled more people to take a paid job or work more hours.

And get this: older people have been more inclined to keep working or even return to the workforce from retirement. Since the early noughties, the proportion of people over 64 who are still working has risen from 6 per cent to 15 per cent (don’t look at me).

The Reserve Bank has made no secret of its reluctance to cut interest rates when the jobs market is so “tight”. It worries that, if the economy starts growing more strongly, we might soon run out of workers, which would set inflation off again.

But I think you could just as easily conclude from our recent experience that the economy has shown its ability to find all the extra workers it needs.

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Women still being kept in the home, but not by what you think

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

It’s a topic that, despite its horrific consequences, makes us avert our eyes, close the tab, and turn the page.

Usually, sadly, it’s only when there’s a death that readers – and the click-hungry media – pay attention. But before I lose you, I want to reassure you that it’s not all bad news. And I want you to hear from people who have defied the odds.

We already know domestic violence kills one woman every 11 days in Australia.

But for the first time, Dr Anne Summers, domestic and family violence professor at UTS, has put cold, hard numbers on the effects of domestic violence in Australia on women’s careers and how likely they are to finish their uni degrees.

When you think about it, the effect isn’t surprising. But Summers’ research exposes the gap between women who endure violence and those who don’t: it’s costing not just lives but our economy.

We’ve come a long way in getting women into work and pursuing university degrees. In 2024, three in five women were working or looking for work. Compare that to just one in three 60 years ago.

Similarly, only 8 per cent of young women had walked across the stage at a graduation in 1982. Today, that figure exceeds 50 per cent.

But those numbers should be higher, Summers says.

She looked at women born between 1989 and 1995 and found there was a nearly 15 percentage point difference between women who had experienced domestic violence and those who hadn’t when it came to the proportion who had finished a university degree by the time they hit 27.

For Laura McConnell, getting a degree was especially difficult after enduring family violence. “Even getting through required incredible resilience,” she says. “But I couldn’t afford to fail because I would have to go back to an abusive family.”

McConnell is now a co-founder of the social enterprise GoKindly, which supports women experiencing housing stress, but she left an earlier career at a big four consulting firm after she found they were unable to support her with her complex background.

“The fallout of coming from violence just follows you through your career,” she says.

While McConnell moved away from her abusive family, Summers says it’s also common for abusers, particularly partners, to prevent women from studying or cause them significant stress – a leading reason for dropping out.

“It’s no accident that employment and education, the pathway to better employment, are targeted by perpetrators,” Summers says. It’s a prime way to crush a woman’s ability to be financially self-sufficient and keep her under her partner’s thumb.

More than 280,000 women, or 5 per cent of the female population aged 18 to 64, have had a partner who has controlled or tried to control them from studying through everything from forced pregnancies to destroying school supplies, stalking them or making them feel guilty about their academic efforts.

This can jeopardise a woman’s career and financial future because a university degree increases the odds of landing a job by about two and a half times and boosts lifetime earnings by as much as 41 per cent. Abuse can also leave them saddled with student debt that they may never earn enough to repay, shrinking their borrowing power.

Endurance athlete Amanda Thompson, who runs her own financial planning business, Endurance Financial, has worked with women experiencing abuse but never thought she’d go through it herself.

Thompson endured emotional abuse for some time before an out-of-the-blue display of physical aggression ended with a triple-zero call.

But it was the year after the scars and bruises healed that was worse.

“It was a year from hell trying to run my own business and keep up with clients,” she says. “I was diagnosed with PTSD, which makes you exhausted all the time. Your body goes into spending all its energy on protecting you.”

Thompson said specialist support and counselling were key to her recovery but that there needed to be more funding for these services and more education on exit strategies.

“In my work, I’m actually getting more and more women coming to me confidentially, saying, financially, where do I need to be to leave,” she said.

Women who have endured abuse in the past five years are less likely to be working. About three-quarters were employed compared to more than four in five for women who hadn’t faced an abusive partner.

While younger women tend to pull back on the hours they work, for older women, most of the fall in employment is driven by them leaving the labour force altogether.

With 1.6 million women having experienced economic abuse by a partner since the age of 15, these proportions significantly dent the workforce.

A form of violence called “economic abuse” has an especially destructive effect. The difference in employment rates between women who have experienced it and those who haven’t is nearly 10 percentage points.

Economic abuse is when a person controls their partner through, for example, preventing a partner from going to work, making frequent disruptive phone calls to them at work, and saddling a partner with debt.

It can also include cunning tactics like hiding transport cards or keys, damaging clothing, or changing calendar appointments so that they get a reputation for being unpunctual.

When a woman stops working, it’s harder for her to plan an escape from her violent partner as she’s not likely to have enough individual income.

This leaves the affected partner tired and stressed, embarrassed from constantly being late for work, or unable to concentrate on their work.

Even if the abuse doesn’t push a woman out of work completely, one in three who experience violence while holding down a job take time off work. The likelihood increases if they have dependent children or if the violence is very frequent.

This can lead to job loss, a significant fall (averaging about 9 per cent) in the woman’s income and a lower superannuation balance in retirement.

These consequences can affect their decision to stay or leave a violent relationship. Fear of ending up in poverty is a major roadblock to women leaving violent relationships, and women who have experienced domestic violence report much higher rates of financial distress, with 44 per cent facing a household cash flow issue.

When a woman stops working, it’s harder for her to plan an escape from her violent partner as she’s not likely to have enough individual income. Working is also a safeguard against domestic violence because it offers women support networks at work.

The most recent comprehensive estimate of the costs of domestic violence, prepared by KPMG, puts the dollar figure at up to $26 billion a year, including the cost of pain, suffering, premature death, reduced productivity and increased demand on the justice system.

There’s plenty that could be done to fight against domestic violence, but ANU research fellow Kristin Sobeck, who worked on the report with Summers, says it starts with collecting more data.

“It’s really been a struggle to quantify the impact of domestic violence on women’s lives because there’s a dearth of data,” she says. “The first thing that shows you care about something is that you measure it.”

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RBA is lost in the frightening territory of full employment

The Reserve Bank’s behaviour last week can only be described as bizarre. It’s a sign that it’s lost its bearings and isn’t sure what’s happening in the economy or where it’s headed. What has caused its befuddlement? Our unexpected return to near full employment. Sheesh. Whadda we do now?

The way “monetary policy” – the Reserve’s manipulation of interest rates – normally works is that, when the rate of price inflation gets too high, it raises interest rates to discourage borrowing and spending. Then, when the demand for goods and services has weakened and the rate of inflation has started slowing, the Reserve starts cutting interest rates back to their normal level.

But that’s not what began last week. After raising the official interest rate by 4.25 percentage points to 4.35 per cent and keeping it there for 15 months, the Reserve cut by 0.25 points, but made it clear it wasn’t sure it should have cut, and warned us not to assume further cuts would follow.

It would wait and see what happened. It didn’t say so, but it left open the possibility that, should inflation start going back up, it would resume raising the official rate.

Huh? What on Earth are these guys playing at? Are rates coming down or aren’t they? It was a case of bureaucratic arse-covering. Hosts of people – those with mortgages, the financial markets and many economists – were demanding a rate cut, and the Reserve didn’t want to get the blame should Anthony Albanese get tossed out at the looming election.

So it sent a signal that rates were coming down, then said it wasn’t a signal. It’s obvious the government was desperate for a rate cut, but note this: at all times Albanese and Treasurer Jim Chalmers have stuck to the agreed etiquette of never publicly expressing any opinion on what the Reserve should or shouldn’t do.

It’s not the first time the Reserve has engaged in arse-covering. Governor Michele Bullock admitted last week that the central bank waited too long before starting to raise rates in 2022. But it made sure it got the first increase in before the May 2022 election, at which the Morrison government got tossed out.

Had it waited until after the election, it would have been criticised for doing the Liberals a favour and, in the process, letting people think the inflation problem arose under Labor.

The point many otherworldly economists don’t get is that just because a central bank is independent of the elected government doesn’t mean it can escape politics. Why not? Because we live in a democracy.

The great contradiction of central bank independence is that, for the bank, it’s all care but no responsibility. If it stuffs up the economy, the governor doesn’t lose her job, the prime minister does. And that’s when the pollies – on both sides – tend to get vengeful.

When a central bank lacks independence, it can leave the politics to the pollies. But if it is independent, it has to do its own politics, which is what Bullock was doing last week.

But why is the Reserve so anxious about cutting rates when underlying inflation is heading down, isn’t far above the 2 to 3 per cent target range, and most economists think monetary policy should be eased? Short answer: because its boffins aren’t old enough to have lived in an economy that’s close to full employment.

Thanks to the excessive monetary and budgetary stimulus applied during the pandemic, the economy boomed and, just after the change of government, unemployment fell to 3.5 per cent, its lowest in almost 50 years. After more than two years of higher interest rates, it’s still only up to 4.1 per cent.

After the review of the Reserve Bank, it was decided to have the longstanding lip-service goal of full employment raised to equal status with the Reserve’s inflation target.

For the past five decades, we and the other rich economies have used a mathematical calculation called the “non-accelerating inflation” rate of unemployment, NAIRU, to give achieving low inflation priority over low unemployment.

This made it easy to get inflation down. You used interest rates to give the economy an almighty hit on the head, causing unemployment to shoot up and the rate of inflation to fall rapidly. Only small problem: you never got back to low unemployment.

This time, however, the Reserve sought to avoid a great worsening in unemployment by not hitting the economy too hard. The consequence has been a slower and less certain return to low inflation. And the jobs market has kept happily steaming along.

Despite flat consumer spending and weak business investment in capital equipment, employment’s still growing strongly and unemployment has risen only a little. The proportion of people with jobs is higher than ever, showing that supply has had no trouble keeping up with demand.

But this is scaring the pants off the Reserve’s boffins. With the labour market so “tight”, surely wages could take off at any moment, halting the fall in inflation – or worse, sending it back up. What’s unnerving them is an old ’70s-model NAIRU machine in the corner, with its red lights flashing and siren blaring. Panic stations. Assume the brace position.

This explains last week’s signal that the Reserve was cutting rates and not cutting them at the same time. When it says what it does next will depend on the data, it means “we’re not really sure what the hell’s going on”.

Trouble is, the world has changed a lot since the invention of the NAIRU machine in the 1970s. The unions used to be able to force excessive pay rises on their bosses, but globalisation, deregulation and the collapse in union membership have changed all that.

The Reserve’s boffins, however, have been so busy with their maths and modelling that they haven’t noticed how much the world has changed. They don’t even seem to have noticed that their regular forecasts of wage growth have been way too high for more than a decade.

No wonder they’re so worried. And until they get the memo, the Reserve will go on punishing everyone impertinent enough to have a mortgage.

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How can jobs and joblessness both be going up?

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Despite more than two years of higher interest rates, meant to slow down spending and activity in the economy, unemployment in Australia remains unusually low.

The nation’s chief number-crunchers, the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS), said there were 16,000 more people employed in October, while the number of unemployed climbed by 8000. The unemployment rate stayed at 4.1 per cent for the third month in a row – still very low by the standards of the past 50 years as well as earlier slowdowns.

You might think when employment rises, unemployment has to fall by the same amount – and vice versa. But here’s the thing: they can both rise or fall at the same time.

How is this possible? Because there’s a third factor: the proportion of people who choose to be in the labour force – either by having a job or actively looking for one. If someone is looking for work and doesn’t have any, it means they’re unemployed, but they’re still counted as part of the labour force.

Usually, more people start seeking a job if the economy and the jobs market are both thriving. Why? Because they believe there’s a better chance of finding a job. By the same logic, if the economy is slowing and the jobs market is worsening, people are less likely to even try searching for a job. The labour force can also grow if the population blossoms, but generally, the better the economy and jobs market, the more people will choose to “participate” in the labour force, helping to fatten it up.

So if the Reserve Bank has pumped the brakes on the economy, and consumer spending is still weak, how has the participation rate increased?

Partly, it’s because overall spending in the economy – including spending by the government – is fuelling demand and keeping it above the level the economy can supply without pushing its limited resources, and therefore price pressures. It’s a good thing that people who want a job still have a good chance of finding one, but the relatively low unemployment rate will discourage the bank from starting to cut interest rates too soon.

That’s because a low unemployment rate is one of the signs of an economy running hot, and therefore at risk of facing inflationary pressures. The bank will be worried demand for goods and services hasn’t weakened enough, and that it might even start soaring. That would throw a spanner in the works for their crusade against inflation.

But what exactly is unemployment? It’s measured as the proportion of unemployed people in the labour force. Or, put another way: the proportion of unemployed people out of all the employed and unemployed people in the economy.

Then there’s the participation rate, which we can calculate by looking at all our “working age” people (in Australia, this is everyone over the age of 15 – including those who, really, are probably too old to work) and the proportion who are in the labour force (working or looking for a job). In most other places, working age is defined as those aged 15 to 64.

If more working-age people decide to start looking for work, it’s possible to have both more people unemployed (the jobseekers who don’t find a job) and more people employed (those who do), as well as a higher participation rate: more working age people, well, working – or looking for a job.

We can also look at the split between full-time and part-time workers. If there are more full-time workers, that’s a sign of a strong labour market. A growing share of part-time workers, meanwhile, is usually a warning that the market for labour is weakening. Over the past year, the share of part-time workers has fallen from about 42 per cent to 31 per cent. More people, and a greater proportion, are working full-time than they were a year ago.

Part-time jobs aren’t necessarily worse than full-time jobs. For some people – such as students, semi-retired people and parents of young children – a part-time job aligns perfectly with their life stage or preferences. It’s only a problem for those who want a full-time job but can only find a part-time one.

Anyone who does at least an hour of work every week is counted as employed. That’s been the case for decades and conforms with the international statistics conventions set down by the United Nations' International Labour Organisation in Geneva.

But it does mean we tend to understate the full extent of joblessness. Our measure of unemployment ignores the people who have had to settle for a part-time job when they’d much rather have a full-time job. This is especially the case as part-time employment has risen since the 1960s.

It’s why the bureau has, in recent decades, been calculating the rate of under-employment: the proportion of people in the labour force who have been working, but would have preferred to work more hours a week than they were able to find.

By adding together the underemployment rate and the unemployment rate, we get the underutilisation rate. This gives us a broader measure of unemployment and the health of our labour market. In October, the underutilisation rate was 10.4 per cent: a touch higher than at the same time last year.

How do we know all these numbers? The ABS conducts a monthly survey. It has a very big sample of households across Australia – usually about 26,000 – and someone from each of these households is asked about the labour force status of each person over the age of 15 under their roof.

The survey sample is split into eight groups, with each group staying in the survey for eight months. One group rotates out every month and is replaced by a new group rotating in. The ABS collects the information through trained interviewers who survey households either face to face or over the phone, and sometimes via an online self-completion form, asking about 70 questions.

While these measures aren’t perfect, and can be confusing, they act as a thermometer for our jobs market. There’s no doubt the pulse is weakening, but so far, there’s enough sign of strength to keep most of us from getting worked up.

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How we measure recessions is wrong. There's a better way to do it

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Of all the scary words in economics, recession is probably among the worst. Not just because of the bad times we link it with, but because of the way it’s measured.

What if I told you the way we measure recession is wrong? Or at least that we need to give it a rethink?

The widely used rule for a recession is “two consecutive quarters of negative economic growth”. That means two sets of back-to-back periods (of three months each) where gross domestic product – or GDP: the amount of goods and services that we’re producing and selling – shrinks.

Under that definition, Australia has been in a recession only once since 1991, and that was shortly after the pandemic and its lockdowns hit.

The idea is this: if we’re making and buying less, that must mean we’re having a hard time. And if it happens for six months, that must mean we’re becoming really worse off!

Here’s the thing, though. GDP is already a flawed measure at the best of times. Sure, it can give us an indication of how much we’re pumping out on the assembly line or purchasing at the checkout. But that doesn’t tell us anything about other measures of our wellbeing: environmental damage, our health or education outcomes.

It also doesn’t tell us how growth is shared: an expanding economy doesn’t mean everyone is getting better off. All or most of it could just be flowing to the already well-off.

Right now, as much as a lot of us feel worse off, we’re technically not in a recession. Looking purely at GDP, the Australian economy has managed to tread water.

In the September quarter (and the one before that, and the one before that), GDP grew by a tiny 0.2 per cent – but it was still above zero: close to a recession, but no cigar.

It helps if we split that figure up by population. When we consider the boom in our population over the past couple of years, we have, indeed, gone backwards. For the past year and a half, GDP growth per person has consistently fallen every quarter.

But to better measure and identify recessions, which we tend to see as a signal for economic pain, we should look to the labour market.

Why? Because that’s where most of the impact of a recession is felt: think about job losses and how hard it is to find a job when the economy is tanking, as well as the impact our jobs have on our lives.

Over the past year, our biggest banks have said our strong labour market has helped people muddle through the cost-of-living crisis. We can change our spending habits to keep up with mortgage repayments or work extra hours to keep up with our rent. It’s not fun, but it’s possible.

Lose your job, though, and life is much harder. It can put people under serious financial stress and damage their mental health.

Enter American economist Dr Claudia Sahm. The tool she developed – called the “Sahm rule” – helps to warn when an economy is entering a recession. It has missed the mark only twice in the past 11 US recessions.

The Sahm formula looks at monthly unemployment data to track how quickly the national unemployment rate has risen compared to the past year. Specifically, it compares the current three-month moving average of the national unemployment rate with the lowest value it has hit in the previous 12 months.

If the current rate is at least 0.5 percentage points higher than the lowest point in the previous year, it means we’re in the early stages of a recession. Measures such as the Sahm rule help us identify weaknesses in our economy and the risk of a recession early. That’s because jobs data is more frequently reported than GDP.

Sahm says changes in the labour market are crucial in understanding the state of the economy.

“If you were put on a desert island and could only have one variable to say what’s going on in the US economy, unemployment is the one you want,” she says. “It really says a lot about whether we’re in good times or bad.”

Sahm’s formula came about in 2019 while she was searching for a better way to fight the next recession. “I had just watched for a decade how hard the Great Recession was on families,” she says. “The goal was to have something people could understand that was very simple, easy to track and really accurate. Your best shot at fighting a recession is to move quickly.”

According to Sahm’s rule, Australia has been in the early stages of a recession for at least one month this year (although the Reserve Bank has argued the Sahm rule should be triggered at 0.75 per cent rather than 0.5 per cent).

When developing the rule, Sahm says she knew from the beginning that examining unemployment would be key. “I already knew, just from my work experience, even small increases in the unemployment rate are a bad sign,” she says.

Australia’s labour market has been remarkably resilient, with the most recent unemployment rate in September coming in at a historically low 4.1 per cent. But we’ve been in – or close to – the danger zone for the past few months.

Why does this matter? Getting on the front foot is important, especially for policymakers such as the government and central banks, to limit the fallout from an economic slowdown.

Independent economist Saul Eslake has long believed the common definition of a recession is flawed. He points to the two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth in Australia in 1977: “Nobody thinks that was a recession,” he says.

On the other hand, Australia didn’t see two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth during either the global financial crisis or the tech wreck in the early 2000s. But Eslake says Australia arguably faced minor recessions during both those periods.

His own metric for a recession, like Sahm’s, focuses on the labour market. He says a recession should be when unemployment rises by more than 1.5 percentage points in 12 months.

“The biggest impact of a recession is on those who lose their jobs or take a long time to find them,” he says.

“There’s evidence that people who lose their jobs during a recession, or enter the workforce as school-leavers or university graduates during a recession, take longer than normal to find a job.”

This then has a “scarring” effect. Those who lose their jobs or have difficulty finding one tend to end up earning less over the rest of their working lives.

The better we are at identifying a recession, the better we can be at protecting jobs and longer-term livelihoods.

Of course, it may not be as simple as just monitoring the jobs market. In the US, for example, the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) considers a range of measures beyond GDP – including personal income, employment, wholesale and retail sales – when deciding whether to declare a US recession.

And even Sahm says her rule has limitations, especially as we’ve seen big changes in the supply of labour across many countries.

“This particular economic cycle has challenged simplicity in a way that means these simple rules need some kind of extra check,” she says.

But whether we go with a measure that is simpler than the NBER gauge, more complex than the Sahm rule, or timelier than GDP, it’s clear the focus needs to be more on jobs.

If there’s one job our economic leaders have, it’s to keep us, as much as possible, in ours.

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How the digital world is getting better at measuring us up

These days we hear incessantly about “data”. The media is full of reports of new data about this or that, and there’s a new and growing occupation of data analysts and even data scientists. So, what is data, where does it come from, what are people doing with it, and why should I care?

Google “data” and you find it’s “facts and statistics collected together for reference or analysis”. The advent of computers has allowed businesses and governments to record, calculate, play with and store huge amounts of data.

Businesses have data about what goods and services they’re making, buying and selling, importing or exporting, and paying their workers, going back for 30 or 40 years.

Our banks have data about what we earn and what we spend it on, especially when we use a credit or debit card – or our phone – to pay for something.

Much of this data is required to be supplied to government agencies. If you ever go onto the Australia Taxation Office’s website to do your annual tax return, it will offer to “pre-fill” your return with stuff it already knows about your income from wages, bank interest and dividends.

Try it sometime. You’ll be amazed by how much the taxman knows and how accurate his data are.

Another dimension of the “information revolution” is how advances in international telecommunications – including via satellites – have allowed us to be in touch with people and institutions around the world in real-time via email and the web – news, entertainment, social media, whatever.

Last month, the Australian Statistician – aka the boss of the Australian Bureau of Statistics – Dr David Gruen, gave a speech outlining some of the ways these huge banks of “big data” about the economic activities of the nation’s businesses, workers, consumers and governments can be used to improve the way we measure the economy in all its aspects: employment, inflation, gross domestic product and the rest.

We’re getting more information and more accurate information, and we’re getting it much sooner than we used to. But we’re still in the early days of exploiting this opportunity to be better informed about what’s happening in the economy and to have better information to guide the government’s decisions about its policies to improve the economy’s performance.

Gruen starts by describing the Tax Office’s “single-touch” payroll system, software that automatically receives information about employees’ payments every time an employer runs its payroll program.

Not all employers have the software, but those who do account for more than 10 million of our 14 million employees.

Gruen says the arrival of the pandemic in early 2020 made access to this “rich vein of near real-time information” an urgent priority. The taxman pulled out the stops, and the stats bureau began receiving these data in early April 2020.

With a virus spreading through the land and governments ordering lockdowns and border closures, they couldn’t afford to wait a month or more to find out what was happening in the economy. Thus, the whole project of using big data to help measure the economy received an enormous kick along – here and in all the other rich economies.

So, in addition to the longstanding monthly sample survey of the labour force, we now have a new publication: Weekly Payroll Jobs and Wages Australia. These data allowed the econocrats—and the rest of us—to chart the dramatic collapse in jobs across the economy over the three weeks from mid-March 2020.

They show employment in the accommodation and food services industry falling by more than a quarter in just three weeks. Employment in the arts and recreation services industry fell by almost 20 per cent. By contrast, falls in utilities and education and training were minor.

The monthly labour force survey has a sample size of about 50,000 people, compared with the payroll program’s 10 million-plus people, meaning it provides information on far more dimensions of the workforce than the old way does.

So, the bureau’s access to payroll data taught it new ways of doing things. And the pandemic increased econocrats’ appetite for more info about the economy that was available in real-time.

With household consumption – consumer spending – accounting for about half of gross domestic product, improving the timeliness and detail of the data was a great idea.

So, in February 2022, the bureau released the first monthly household spending indicator using (note this) aggregated and de-identified data on credit and debit card transactions supplied by the major banks. This indicator provides two-thirds coverage of household consumption, compared with the less than one-third coverage provided by the usual survey of retail trade.

The bureau has also begun publishing a monthly consumer price index in addition to the usual quarterly index. This is possible because big data – in the form of data from scanners at checkout counters and data scraped from the websites of supermarket chains – is much cheaper to gather than the old way.

The bureau has also started integrating different but related sets of big data from several sources, so analysts can study the behaviour of individual consumers or businesses. It has developed two large integrated data assets.

The one for individuals links families and households with data sets on income and taxation, social support, education, health, migrants and disability.

The one for businesses links them with a host of surveys of aspects of business activity, income and taxation, overseas trade, intellectual property and insolvency.

The purpose is to allow analysts from government departments, universities or think tanks to shed light on policy problems from multiple dimensions.

For instance, one study showed that people over 65 who’d had their third COVID vaccination within the previous three months were 93 per cent less likely to die from the virus than an unvaccinated person.

But that’s just the tiniest example of what we’ll be able to find out.

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Good news: our falling productivity is too bad to be true

There are few aspects of the economy on which more bulldust is spoken than our productivity. The world abounds with people trying to tell us that our productivity performance is a real worry and the way to fix it is to cut their taxes or give them a government handout. Yeah, sure.

These snake oil salesmen (and they’re almost always men) have been having a field day lately. Did you know that last financial year, 2022-23, the productivity of our labour actually fell by 3.7 per cent?

Fortunately, some sense arrived this week. The Productivity Commission issued its annual productivity bulletin, providing “the most complete picture to date of the drivers of Australia’s productivity decline over 2022-23,” it said. We now have a clearer understanding of what’s behind the slump, we’re told.

But first, let’s be sure you know what productivity is. It’s a comparison of the economy’s output of goods and services – measured by real gross domestic product – relative to our inputs of raw materials, labour and physical capital (machines, buildings, roads, bridges and so forth).

Our productivity improves when we use the same quantity of inputs to produce a greater quantity of outputs. In other words, it’s a measure of our efficiency.

We can improve our technical efficiency by inventing better machines for workers to work with, thinking of better ways to organise our mines, farms, factories and offices, increasing the skills of our workers, and having the government provide us with better roads and public transport to go about our business.

Usually, we focus on the productivity of our labour, measured by dividing real GDP during a period by the total number of hours employees and bosses worked during the period.

Over the past 28 years, the productivity of our workers increased at the average rate of 1.3 per cent a year. This improvement, when passed on to workers as higher “real” wages – wages growing faster than prices – is the main reason our material standard of living is much higher than our grandparents enjoyed.

The productivity of our labour generally improves a bit almost every year. It can fall a little during recessions, but it’s never fallen by anything like as much as 3.7 per cent. Which may mean the world’s coming to an end, but it’s more likely to mean there’s something funny going on with the figures.

The commission’s first revelation is that the number of hours worked during the financial year grew by an unprecedented 6.9 per cent, whereas the economy’s output of goods and services grew by 3 per cent. So, as a matter of simple arithmetic, our productivity worsened.

Now, before you jump to terrible conclusions, there are a few points to make. The first – which the commission didn’t make, but should have – is that one of the most basic things we expect the economy to do for us is to provide paid employment for all those of us who want to work.

And what happened last financial year is that a lot more people got jobs, and a lot of people working part-time got the extra hours of work they’d been seeking. It’s a safe bet that all those people being paid to work more hours were pleased to oblige.

So, before we beat ourselves up, we need to be clear that the unprecedented rise in hours worked was a good thing, not a bad thing. It was, in fact, part of the economy’s return to full employment for the first time in 50 years. That’s bad?

No, rather than cursing our bad luck or bad management, we should be asking questions: how on earth did that happen? It doesn’t make sense. Employers employ people to produce goods and services, not because they feel sorry for people who need a job.

So, if they increased their labour inputs by 6.9 per cent, how come their output of products increased by only 3 per cent?

When you hire more workers, you usually need to buy more tools and equipment for them to work with. If you don’t bother, then the extra workers won’t be as productive as your existing workers, and your average productiveness will fall.

The commission points out that businesses’ decisions to hire more workers didn’t lead them to acquire an equivalent amount of extra machines and other physical capital. The nation’s ratio of physical capital to labour fell by 4.9 per cent in the year – the biggest recorded decline in our history. “This meant on average, each worker had access to a shrinking amount of capital, which weighed down labour productivity,” it told us.

The point is, if you want productivity to improve, you need an increasing ratio of capital to labour. So, if businesses aren’t increasing their investment in capital equipment and structures sufficiently, don’t be surprised if productivity is getting worse rather than better.

But while I think it’s true that weak business investment is an important part of the explanation for our weak performance on labour productivity over the past decade, I don’t think it’s the reason productivity fell by 3.7 per cent last financial year.

No. One possibility is that while business has hired a lot more workers, it’s taking a bit longer for the increased investment and greatly increased output to come through. This is a common problem with the interpretation of changes in the economy over short periods. Wait a bit longer and the puzzle disappears.

But I think the true explanation is bigger than that – and so does the commission. It points out that, during the pandemic, measured productivity rose rapidly – mostly because high-productivity industries kept working, while low-productivity industries were locked down – but last financial year that measured gain disappeared.

Get it? COVID and our response to it, with lockdowns and economic stimulus, did strange things to the economy and to our measurements of it.

But by about June last year, the level of labour productivity was about the same as it was before the pandemic. We didn’t get much productivity improvement, but nor did we go backwards.

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Bosses are finding more innovative ways to handcuff their workers

When I joined the John Fairfax superannuation scheme 50 years ago on Wednesday, I little knew my new boss was trying to handcuff me. Fortunately, they were “golden handcuffs”. But these days, bosses use other, more blatant ways to tie their workers to them and stop wages growing so fast.

The Fairfax scheme I joined decades ago must have been fairly common among big companies in the years after World War II, when shortages of skilled labour were almost continuous.

From memory, the company offered to contribute an extra 6 per cent of my pay to the scheme, provided I contributed 4 per cent. That 4 per cent stopped many people joining the scheme, but not me.

What I didn’t realise was that, if you left the scheme before reaching retirement age, you got your own contributions back, with 3.75 per cent interest, but forfeited the company’s contributions and the accrued earnings on them.

But here’s the trick: the company didn’t keep the forfeited contributions and earnings, but transferred them to the scheme’s general fund, to be shared between those loyal employees who did stay until retirement.

Get it? The longer you’d worked for the company, the more you had to lose by leaving. Plus, the more you had to gain by staying on until retirement. You were bound to the company by golden handcuffs.

(A side-benefit to the Fairfax family was that much of the huge sum in the general fund was held in Fairfax shares, thereby increasing the family’s protection against a hostile takeover.)

Relax. My handcuffs are long gone, removed by Paul Keating’s introduction of compulsory super for employees and related reform of existing company super schemes, in the early 1990s. Today, all employer contributions and earnings are immediately "vested" in the employee, meaning you take them with you when you leave the company.

Now, I should remind you that mainstream economists are great believers in "the mobility of labour". The freer workers are to move to another employer offering a better job, or to start their own business, the more efficient the economy is likely to be, and the faster productivity will improve.

So the last thing economists approve of is employers being able to discourage, delay or even prevent their staff from moving on. That is, able to prevent market forces from working the way they should.

But as assistant minister for competition Dr Andrew Leigh reminded us last week, there’s much research showing that employers around the world are increasingly using "non-compete clauses" in their employees’ contracts. To get the job, you have to agree not to leave and work for one of its competitors for a set period, or to yourself set up in competition.

Couldn’t happen in a decent place like Australia? Don’t be so sure. Just as it’s taken longer for our chief executives to start believing they’re entitled to pay themselves many multiples more than they pay any of the company’s other employees, so they’ve been slower to follow the Yanks and Brits in handcuffing those who work under them.

Even so, an online survey conducted by Dan Andrews (not that one) from the e61 Institute, and Bjorn Jarvis from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, found that as many as one in five Australian workers is subject to a non-compete clause.

Smaller percentages of employees must agree not to poach the company’s workers after they’ve left, or not to solicit the business of their former employer’s clients.

The survey found that, as well as applying to senior executives, non-compete clauses may apply to many workers who have close contact with the customers: childcare workers, yoga instructors and specialists in IVF.

It also found that competition clauses applied to 39 per cent of managers, 26 per cent of community and personal service workers, and to 14 per cent of clerical and admin workers.

Leigh says that shifting jobs is typically associated with a substantial jump in pay. Yes, that’s probably why few recruits resist when the new boss slips in some clause about what happens if you leave. Leave? I haven’t even arrived yet.

But Leigh says even many low-paid workers are constrained from shifting to a better job. Don’t forget that, these days, many government-subsidised services are provided by small, for-profit providers.

I hire you to work in my childcare or aged care (or yoga) business, but you prove good at it, and popular with the parents or the oldies’ children, so you leave and set up for yourself, taking some of my customers with you.

Leigh says that, even if some non-compete clauses wouldn’t stand up in court, they are rarely tested. (That’s another yawning gap between theory and practice. In theory, we’re all equal before the law. In practice, lawyers cost big bucks – and the boss has a lot more bucks to play with than you do.)

“In most cases,” Leigh says, “workers subject to a non-compete clause will either choose to suffer the period of enforced ‘gardening leave’ [the months or years that you’ve agreed not to join a competitor or become one] or will stay with their existing employer.”

But this is about more than employers treating you like you’re their slave. It’s also about wages. Especially where workers possess skills that aren’t easy to come by, competition between employers pushes wages up. If you can find a way to dampen that competition, you’ve kept a lid on wage costs.

“This means that workers miss out on potential wage gains,” Leigh says. “It also makes it harder for start-up firms to attract the talent they need to challenge incumbents. In turn, productivity suffers.”

The Bureau of Statistics has added a question about non-compete clauses to its regular survey of employee earnings and hours, which it will publish later this month.

The competition taskforce within Treasury, set up by the government last year, will be looking closely at this information to learn more about the effects of non-compete clauses on workers and businesses in Australia.

Have you noticed how, whenever the (Big) Business Council reads us another lecture on the need for major reform to get our productivity improving again, non-compete clauses never rate a mention?

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How full employment has changed the economy

This may be the first time you’ve watched the managers of the economy using high interest rates and a tighter budget to throttle demand to get inflation down. But if it isn’t your first, have you noticed how much harder they’re finding it to catch the raging bull?

It explains why both the previous and the new Reserve Bank governor have been so twitchy. How, after they seem to have made as many interest rate rises as they thought they needed, they keep coming back for another one.

The economy isn’t working the way it used to. Have you noticed that, although consumer spending stopped dead in the September quarter, and overall growth in the economy slowed to a microscopic 0.2 per cent, there’s been so little weakness in the jobs market?

Although there’s no doubt about how hard most households have been squeezed over the course of this year, how come the rate of unemployment has risen only marginally from 3.5 per cent to a still-far-below-average 3.9 per cent in November?

And if the economy’s been slowing for the whole of this year, how come the budget balance is getting better rather than worse, with Treasurer Jim Chalmers achieving a surplus last financial year and hoping for another in the year to next June?

There are lots of particular things that help explain these surprising results – world commodity prices have stayed high; some parts of the economy change earlier than others – but there’s one, more fundamental factor that towers over all the others: this is the first time in 50 years that we’ve been trying to slow a runaway economy that’s reached anything like full employment.

It turns out that throttling an economy that’s fully employed is much harder to do. Households are more resilient and, after a period when it’s been hard to get hold of all the workers they need, businesses have been far less inclined to add to the slowdown by shedding staff.

Remember that we reached full employment by happy accident. Between the unco-ordinated stimulus of state as well as federal governments, plus the Reserve cutting rates to near-zero, we (like many other rich economies) hit the accelerator far too hard during the pandemic.

This was apparent after the pandemic had eased and before the Morrison government’s final budget in March last year. But there was no way Scott Morrison was going to hit the budget brakes just before an election.

So the econocrats in the Reserve and Treasury resigned themselves to second prize: an unemployment rate much lower than what they were used to and felt comfortable with.

Because the pandemic had also caused us to close our borders and thus block employers’ access to skilled and unskilled immigrant labour, the econocrats got far more than they expected: unemployment so low we hit full employment.

The jobs market is getting less tight, with the number of job vacancies having fallen a long way, but last week’s figures for November showed how strong the labour market remains.

Sure, unemployment rose a fraction to 3.9 per cent, but this is no higher than it was in May last year. And the month saw total employment actually grow, by more than a remarkable 61,000 jobs during the month.

After all this slowing and all this pain, the rate at which people of working age are participating in the labour force by either having a job or actively seeking one has reached a record high.

And almost 65 per cent of the working-age population has a job – a proportion that’s never been higher in Australia’s history.

Employment is still growing strongly, partly because of the rebound in immigration, with foreign students in particular filling part-time job vacancies.

But also, it seems, because more hard-pressed families are trying to make ends meet by taking second jobs. In past downturns, those jobs wouldn’t have been there to be taken.

To force households to spend less, they’re being hit with three sticks. Obviously, by raising mortgage interest rates. Also by employers, taken as a group, raising the wages they pay by less than they’ve raised their prices (have you noticed how Chalmers avoids referring to the cut in real wages by just blaming “inflation”?).

And, third, by the government allowing bracket creep to take a bigger bite out of what pay rises the workers do manage to get.

But there’s another factor that’s been working in the opposite direction, adding to households’ ability to keep spending: over the year to November, the number of people with jobs rose by more than 440,000. That’s a full-employment economy.

All the extra people with jobs pay income tax. All the part-time workers able to get more hours pay more tax. All the people getting second jobs pay more tax. Add the bigger bite out of pay rises, and you see why Chalmers’ budget’s so flush.

But note this: the many benefits of full employment come at a cost – “opportunity cost”. As a coming paper by Matt Saunders and Dr Richard Denniss of the Australia Institute will remind us, “opportunity cost makes it clear that when resources are used for one purpose, they become unavailable for other purposes”.

So when we’re at or close to full employment, any developer, business executive or politician seeking our support for any project because “it will create jobs” should be laughed at. Where will the workers come from to fill the jobs? You’ll have to pinch them from some other employer.

This is especially true when the jobs you want to create are for workers with specialist skills.

According to a federal government report, in October last year there were 83 major resource and energy projects at the committed stage, worth $83 billion. But about two thirds of these were for the development of fossil fuels, including the expansion of nearby ports.

Really? And this at a time when the electricity grid needs urgent reconfiguration as part of our move to a low-carbon economy, but projects are being deferred because you can’t get the workers?

As Saunders and Denniss conclude, “With rapid population growth and the stated need to transform our energy system, the real cost of spending tens of billions of dollars building new gas and coal projects is the lost opportunity to invest in the infrastructure and energy transformation the Australian economy needs.”

I think Jim Chalmers needs to explain the iron law of opportunity cost to his boss. And make sure Climate Change and Energy Minister Chris Bowen’s in the meeting.

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Chalmers should give the RBA an employment target

My trouble is I’m too nice. I’m too reluctant to tell people when I think they’re not trying hard enough. If I had time over again, I’d be tougher on nice young Treasurer Jim Chalmers and his white paper on employment.

The Albanese government wants to revitalise our resolve to achieve full employment, but didn’t have the courage to put a number where its mouth is and nominate a numerical target for employment.

I’ve been convinced of this by my former colleague, friend and most worrying competitor, Peter Martin, now of the universities’ The Conversation website.

Chalmers says the white paper is “ambitious”, but Martin isn’t convinced. “A clearly ambitious statement would have specified a target for unemployment, ideally one that was a bit of a stretch,” Martin says.

He notes that the Keating government’s Working Nation statement did that in 1994. Released at a time when unemployment was almost 10 per cent, it specified a target unemployment rate of 5 per cent – an ambition that served as a beacon for decades.

With all the progress we’ve made in recent times, getting unemployment down to about 3.5 per cent for more than a year, Martin proposes setting a stretch target of 3 per cent, or even 4 per cent, as an aspiration.

Essentially, his argument for setting a target is that “what gets measured gets done”. And he’s dead right. This is not about economic theory, it’s about the practicalities of not just having ambitions, but making sure you have your best shot at achieving them.

In an ideal world, it would be enough to merely state your ambitions. But in a world of human fallibility, we need to impose on ourselves rules and targets to help us stick to our guns.

The target we’ve had for the rate of inflation – of 2 to 3 per cent, achieved on average over time – which we’ve had since 1996, has been no magic answer, but has been highly effective in leaving everyone in no doubt about whether we were on track or off track, and by how much.

But, as is widely agreed, in the day-to-day management of the economy, we have two objectives, not one: price stability (as measured by the inflation target) and full employment (as not measured by any target).

This lopsidedness leaves us constantly tempted to err on the side of low inflation at the expense of low unemployment. That’s the unspoken message the lack of a numerical target is sending the economic managers, particularly the Reserve Bank. As I’ve written before, this omission may secretly suit the interests of business.

So if the Albanese government’s professed determination to get full employment back up on its pedestal alongside price stability is to be meaningful, it must involve setting two targets, not one.

Last week, one of the nation’s leading labour market economists, Professor Jeff Borland of Melbourne University, joined this debate. He doesn’t agree that the white paper was the right place for the government to nominate a specific numerical target.

But he does believe the managers of the macroeconomy require a numerical target. To achieve what the white paper calls the “maximum sustainable level of employment”, he says, “you need to know what it is”.

Borland accepts the white paper’s criticism of the present way of estimating full employment, the NAIRU, or non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment, which “evolves over time, is difficult to measure, and does not capture the full potential of the workforce” – a reference to underemployment and “potential workers”, who want to work but aren’t actively seeking a job, and so aren’t counted in the labour force.

Borland adds another criticism, that “estimation of the NAIRU has become a ‘black box’, making it almost impossible to understand why it is at a particular level at any time.”

So Borland accepts the government’s argument that, rather than relying solely on estimates of the NAIRU, “policymakers need a broad suite of measures to gauge the extent of current underutilisation [of labour]” and whether the labour market is close to the current maximum sustainable level of employment.

This means Borland rejects Martin’s argument that unemployment can stay the measure of full employment because it moves in line with underemployment (having a part-time job, but not as many hours as you want).

“The rate of unemployment is no longer sufficiently informative about labour underutilisation – and labour underutilisation is what we should care about for policymaking,” Borland says.

However, he dismisses the claims of other critics that the new full-employment objective is bad news for keeping inflation under control.

He quotes what the white paper says on the matter. The objective is to “keep employment as close as possible to the current maximum sustainable level of employment that is consistent with low and stable inflation”.

The plain truth is that there has always been much potential for conflict between the goal of price stability and the goal of full employment. Life is full of such conflicts.

And a key teaching of economics is that when you encounter two conflicting but highly desirable objectives, the answer is never to fly to one extreme or the other, as humans are so often tempted to do.

No, economics teaches that what you should do is seek out the best available “trade-off” (combination) between the two, so you end up with as much of each as the circumstances allow.

The point is that making sure we have explicit targets for both is the best way to motivate the economic managers to find the best trade-off available. Both the white paper and the recent independent review of the Reserve Bank’s performance imply that, in recent years, we haven’t been finding the best trade-off between the two.

But there’s still time for Chalmers to nominate a numerical employment target. Although the Reserve’s act requires it to achieve full employment, the review recommended that, in the setting of interest rates, the full-employment objective be raised to the same status as the inflation target.

The place for this to happen is in the imminent “statement on the conduct of monetary policy”, the agreement between the treasurer of the day and the governor that the treasurer has newly appointed.

It was in the first of these agreements, in 1996, between Peter Costello and Ian Macfarlane, that the Howard government accepted the inflation target the Reserve had formulated as the government’s target.

In the upcoming agreement between Chalmers and new governor Michele Bullock, he could ask the Reserve to go away and come up with its own employment target.

But if he wants to be seen by the public as doing his job with diligence and the courage of his convictions, he will ask the new governor to accept an employment target the government has determined as the embodiment of the fine ambitions expressed in its white paper.

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Labor sets out its alternative to neoliberalism

If, rather than wading through all the things the Albanese government has decided to do, you read what its white paper on employment actually says, you realise a remarkable thing: it reveals a vision of an alternative economy the government wants to take us to.

In recent weeks we’ve seen before our eyes the worst of the economy that several decades of “neoliberalism” – the doctrine that what’s good for big business is best for the rest of us – has brought to us. The rise of the nation’s chief executives as commercial Brahman castes, taking short-cuts to higher profits by chiselling customers and mistreating employees, and seeing themselves as above the law, has left a sour taste.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers and his colleagues want to move from an economy centred on what the bosses want, to one centred on what’s best for the workers. It’s a shift from managing the economy for the few, rather than the many. The great majority of Australia’s households depend on income from wages.

The white paper spells it out from the beginning. “The government’s vision is for a dynamic and inclusive labour market in which everyone has the opportunity for secure, fairly paid work and people, businesses and communities can be beneficiaries of change and thrive. We are working to create more opportunities for more people in more places,” it says.

Our surprise return to our lowest rate of unemployment in almost 50 years – about 3.5 per cent, which we’ve maintained for more than a year – has revived the government’s ambition to pursue a goal we lost sight of in the 1970s, full employment.

The white paper says what the government takes that term to mean in our very different world, and how it will be pursued. Full employment has never meant an unemployment rate of zero. At the very least, there will always be a small proportion of workers moving between jobs or looking for their first job.

The paper announces the government’s definition of the term: it is working to create an economy where “everyone who wants a job is able to find one without having to search for too long”.

That’s a demanding specification. Sometimes unemployment will be high because the economy’s in recession. In normal times, unemployment is high precisely because too many people have gone for months without finding a job.

Some part of unemployment comes from the economy’s ever-changing industry structure, as some industries decline while others expand. This can leave some workers high and dry. They may have skills that some business wants, but that business may be many miles from where they live.

So for the government to commit to people not having to search too long to find a job imposes on it a great responsibility to help those people having problems.

But the government adds an important qualification to the requirement that no one be jobless for long: “These should be decent jobs that are secure and fairly paid.”

All this, it tells us, “is central to a strong economy and a prosperous and inclusive society”.

Just so. The only reason to want a strong economy is for prosperity that’s widely shared among the people who constitute the economy. And a simple truth that was lost in the era of neoliberalism is the value people place on having a job that’s secure.

It’s the peace of mind that comes from knowing that, if you turn up every day, do what you’re told and work hard, you can stop worrying about where your next meal’s coming from.

This can be just as important as how well the job pays, if not more so. But in recent decades we’ve seen the growth of businesses increasing their profits by using casualisation to make jobs less secure and devices such as labour hire and outsourcing to side-step existing wages and conditions.

The white paper says the government’s objective is “sustained and inclusive full employment”.

“Sustained full employment is about minimising volatility in economic cycles and keeping employment as close as possible to the current maximum level consistent with low and stable inflation.

“Inclusive full employment is about broadening opportunities, lowering barriers to work including discrimination, and reducing structural under-utilisation [part-time workers who can’t get as many hours of work as they want] over time to increase the level of employment in our economy.”

The paper says building a strong and skilled workforce “will be fundamental to achieving full employment and productivity growth”. This will require substantial growth in the high-skilled workforce.

“Australia needs an increasingly highly skilled labour force, equipped with the right tools and technology” to maximise gains from the transition to renewable energy, the increased use of artificial intelligence and the growing care economy.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. It would be a much better world to live in. But they’re just words ... just aspirations. True. But by setting it all down so formally, the Albanese government is raising our expectations.

It’s setting a standard for us to judge its performance by – a standard much higher than its predecessors ever set. We must hold Albo to it.

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RBA's double whammy: hit wages and raise interest rates

If the sharp increase in interest rates we’ve seen leads to a recession, it will be the recession we didn’t have to have. The judgment of hindsight will be that the Reserve Bank’s mistake was to worry about wage growth being too high, when it should have worried about it being too low.

The underrated economic news this week was the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ announcement that its wage price index grew by 0.8 per cent over the three months to the end of June, and by 3.6 per cent over the year to June.

This was the third quarter in a row that wages had risen by 0.8 per cent, but annual growth was down a fraction from 3.7 per cent over the year to March. It was a slowdown the Reserve hadn’t expected.

So, the obvious question arises: is it good news or bad? Short answer: depends on your perspective. Long answer: keep reading.

The Reserve would have regarded the modest fall as good news because its focus is on getting the rate of inflation down to its 2 to 3 per cent target range as soon as reasonably possible. The slight lowering in wage growth will help in two ways.

First, it means a slightly smaller increase in businesses’ wage costs, which should mean they increase their prices by a little less.

Second, the slight fall in wage growth slightly increases the squeeze on households’ incomes, making it a little harder for them to keep spending as much on goods and services. The less the demand for their products, the less the scope for businesses to raise their prices.

It’s hardly a big change, obviously, but it’s in the right direction. It’s a sign the Reserve’s anti-inflation strategy is working and that the return to low inflation may happen a little earlier.

But what if you’re just a worker – is it good news or bad, from your perspective? Well, Treasurer Jim Chalmers would like to remind you that wage growth of 3.7 or 3.6 per cent is the highest we’ve had since mid-2012.

Not bad, eh? Trust Labor to get your wages up.

I trust you’re sufficiently economically literate to see through that one. Back then, the annual rate of inflation was about 2 per cent, whereas in June quarter this year it was 6 per cent – not long down from a peak of 7.8 per cent.

So wage growth of 3.6 per cent is hardly anything to boast about. Wages might be up, but prices are up by a lot more. Take account of inflation, and “real” wages actually fell by 2.4 per cent over the year to June.

Over the 11 years to June, consumer prices rose by 33 per cent, whereas the wage price index rose by 29 per cent. If you’re a worker, that’s hardly something to celebrate.

Why do ordinary people put up with the capitalist system, in which big business people are revered like Greek gods, permitted to lecture us on our many failings, and allowed to pay themselves maybe 40 times what an ordinary worker gets?

Because the punters get their cut. Because enough of the benefits trickle down to ordinary workers to give them a steadily improving standard of living. Because wages almost always rise a bit faster than prices do.

This is the “social contract” the rich and powerful have made with the rest of us for letting them call the shots. But for the past decade or more we’ve got nothing from the deal. Indeed, our standard of living has slipped back.

Don’t worry, say Chalmers and his boss Anthony Albanese, it won’t be more than a year or three before inflation’s down lower than wage growth and real wages are back to growing a bit each year.

Yeah, maybe. It’s certainly what should happen, it happened in the past, so maybe it will happen again. But one thing we can be sure of: we’re unlikely ever to catch up for the losing decade.

Throughout the Reserve’s response to the post-pandemic period, it’s had next to nothing to say about the abandon with which businesses have been whacking up their prices, while always on about the need for wage growth to be restrained.

It’s tempting to think that, in the mind of the Reserve, the only function wages serve is to help it achieve its inflation target. When inflation’s below the target, the Reserve wants bigger pay rises to get inflation up. When inflation’s above the target, it wants lower pay rises to get inflation down.

The truth is, the Reserve’s been mesmerised by the threat that roaring wages would pose to lower inflation. Its limited understanding of the forces bearing on wages is revealed by its persistent over-forecasting of how fast they will grow.

Once the unemployment rate began falling towards 3.5 per cent and the jobs market became so tight – with job vacancies far exceeding the number of unemployed workers – it has lived in fear of surging wages as employers bid up wages in their frantic efforts to hang on to or recruit skilled workers.

It just hasn’t happened. As we’ve seen, wages haven’t risen enough merely to keep up with prices, much less soar above them.

The Reserve has worried unceasingly that the price surge would adversely affect people’s expectations about inflation, leading to a wage-price spiral that would keep inflation high forever. This is why it’s kept raising interest rates and been rushing to see inflation fall back.

Again, it just hasn’t happened.

Normally, when inflation’s been surging and the Reserve has been raising interest rates to slow down our spending, real wages have been growing strongly. But not this time. This time, falling real wages have greatly contributed to the squeeze on households and their spending.

That’s why, if this week’s falling employment and rising unemployment continue to the point of recession, people will realise the Reserve’s mistake was to worry about wage growth being too high, when it should have worried about it being too low.

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Less competition reduces the power of interest rates to cut inflation

The ground has been shifting under the feet of the world’s central bankers, including our own Dr Philip Lowe, the outgoing chief of the RBA. This has weakened the power of higher interest rates to get inflation down.

Like all economists, central bankers believe their theory – their “model” – gives them great understanding of how the economy works and what they have to do to keep inflation low and employment high.

They know, for instance, that inflation – rising prices – occurs when the demand for goods and services exceeds the economy’s ability to supply those goods and services. So they can use an increase in interest rates to discourage businesses and households from spending so much.

This will reduce the demand for goods and services, bringing it into alignment with supply and so stop it causing prices to rise so quickly. It will also slow the rate at which the economy’s growing, of course.

But, with a bit of care, they won’t need to push interest rates so high the economy goes into “recession”, when demand (spending) becomes so weak that the economy gets smaller, causing some businesses to go bust and many workers to lose their jobs.

This theorising has worked reasonably well for many years, leading central bankers to be confident they know how to fix the present surge in inflation.

But the economy keeps changing, particularly as we keep using advances in technology to improve the range of goods and services we produce, and the way we produce them.

One consequence of our businesses’ unending pursuit of labour-saving technology – more of the work being done by machines and less by humans – has not been fewer jobs, but bigger factories and businesses.

As in all the rich economies, many industries are now dominated by just a few huge companies. In our case, we’re down to just four big banks, three big power companies, three big phone companies, two airlines and two supermarket chains. And that’s before you get the handful of giants dominating the rich world’s internet hardware, software and platforms.

Trouble is, when just a few firms dominate an industry, they gain “market power” – the power to hold their prices well above their costs; to increase their “markup”, as economists say.

The size of markups is a measure of the degree of competition in an industry. When competition between firms is strong, markups are low. When competition is weak, markups are high.

There is much empirical evidence that industries in the rich countries have become more concentrated over time, and markups have risen. And, as I’ve written before, Australia’s no exception to this trend.

In economics, “monopoly” means just one seller. “Monopsony” means just one buyer. So, when a firm has a degree of monopoly power, it can overcharge its customers. When a firm has a degree of monopsony power – when workers don’t have many employers to pick from – it can underpay its workers.

Researchers have found much evidence of labour-market power. And again, I’ve written before about the evidence this, too, is happening in Australia.

But this week, at the annual Australian Conference of Economists, federal Competition Minister Andrew Leigh, himself a former economics professor, drew attention to two recent International Monetary Fund research papers suggesting that a lack of competition is reducing the effectiveness of monetary policy – the manipulation of interest rates – in influencing inflation.

The first paper, by Romain Duval and colleagues, uses American data and data from 14 advanced economies to find that, compared with low-markup firms, high-markup firms are less likely to respond to changes in interest rates. The level of their sales changes less, as do their decisions about future investment in production capacity.

So, fat markups mean companies are less likely to change their behaviour. They’re not likely to cut their investment spending, for example.

This means more of the pressure to respond to higher rates will fall on households with big mortgages, but also on firms with low markups.

The second paper, by Anastasia Burya and colleagues, uses online job ads from across the United States to find that in regions where firms have a lot of labour-market power – that is, where workers don’t have much choice of where to work – those firms can hire workers without having to offer higher wages to attract the people they need.

This is the opposite of what standard theory predicts. It’s bad news for workers, who could have expected strong demand for labour to push up wages.

But another way to look at it is that, where big firms have labour-market power, there’s little relationship between employment and the change in wages. If so, conventional calculations of the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment” – the lowest point to which unemployment can fall without causing wages to take off – will give wrong results, encouraging central banks to keep unemployment higher than it needs to be.

And at times when price inflation is too high, unemployment will have to rise by more than you’d expect to get the rate of inflation back down to where you want it. How do you bring about a bigger rise in unemployment? By increasing interest rates more than you expected you’d have to.

So, whether it’s inadequate competition in the markets for particular products, or inadequate competition in the market for workers’ labour, lack of competition makes monetary policy – moving interest rates – less effective than central bankers have assumed it to be.

The model of how markets work that central bankers (and most other economists) rely on assumes that the competition between firms – including the competition for workers – is intense.

In the real world, however, markets have increasingly become dominated by just a few huge firms, which has given them the power to keep prices higher than they should be, and wages lower than they should be.

Leigh, Minister for Competition, gets the last word: “If you care about central banks being able to do their jobs, then you should care about a competitive and dynamic economy.”

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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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Don't miss the good news among the bad: we've hit jobs, jobs, jobs

Here is the news: not everything in the economy is going to hell. Right now, jobs, jobs, jobs are going great, great, great.

The news media (and yours truly) focus on whatever’s going wrong – the cost of living, interest rates, to take two minor examples – because they know that’s what interests their paying customers most.

This bias in our thinking exists because humans have evolved to be continually on the lookout for threats. Those threats used to be wild animals, poisonous berries and the rival tribe over the river, but these days they come more in the form of politicians who aren’t doing their job and business people on the make.

If you’re not careful, however, the preoccupation with bad news can leave you with a jaundiced view of the total picture. Everything’s bad and nothing’s good.

But it’s rare for anything to be all bad or all good. And, particularly where the economy’s concerned, it’s common for good things and bad things to go together.

For instance, when unemployment is high, inflation is usually low. And when inflation is high, unemployment’s usually low. (It’s in the rare event where they’re both high at the same time – “stagflation” – that you know we’re really in trouble.)

So, when our present Public Enemy No. 1 – Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe – began a speech last week by making this point, I realised I should make sure that you, gentle reader, hadn’t missed the rose among all the thorns.

Lowe said the high inflation we’re experiencing was “one of the legacies of the pandemic and of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine”. But “another remarkable, but less remarked upon, legacy of the pandemic is the significant improvement in Australia’s labour market”.

“Significant improvement” is putting it mildly. Have you heard of “full employment”, where everyone who wants a job has one? It’s the way our economy used to be for about three decades following World War II.

But you have to be as ancient as me to remember what it was like. One reason I quit my job and embarked on a course that eventually led me to this august organ was the knowledge that, should I need to get a job, all I had to do was wait until next Saturday’s classified job ads, and pick the one I wanted.

That’s full employment. And the world hasn’t been like that since Gough Whitlam was prime minister. Until now. We have more people with jobs than ever in our history.

At about 3.5 per cent, the rate of unemployment is lower than at any time since 1974. And before any of the imagined experts let fly on Twitter, this is not because any government, Labor or Liberal, has fiddled the figures.

What’s true is that, in recent decades, more people have been under-employed – they haven’t been able to get as many hours of work as they’ve needed.

But as Lowe says, in recent times, people have found it easier to obtain more hours of work. So the rate of underemployment is at multi-decade lows, and the proportion of jobs that are full-time is higher than it’s been in ages.

We now have 64 per cent of people of working-age actually in a job, the highest ever. The proportion of people either already in a job or actively seeking one – the “participation rate” - is also at its highest.

A lot of this is explained by the record high in women’s participation in the labour force.

Lowe says the rate of participation by young people is “the highest it has been in a long time” and the youth unemployment rate is “the lowest that it has been in many decades”.

If all that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.

But for all those desperate to find a negative – often for reasons of partisanship – it’s not that you can’t believe the figures. It’s this: can you believe they’ll continue?

With the Reserve raising interest rates so fast and far to slow the economy’s growth and reduce inflation pressure, it’s clear that this is as good as it gets in the present episode.

For the past couple of months, we’ve seen the figures edging back a fraction from their best, and on Thursday we’ll see if that’s yet become a trend.

At present, Lowe is at the controls bringing the economic plane in to land. He’s aiming for a soft landing, but may miscalculate and give us a bumpy landing which, to mangle the metaphor, will send unemployment shooting up.

If so, we may have had just a fleeting glimpse of full-employment nirvana before it disappeared into the mist.

But for the more optimistically inclined, even if the landing is harder than planned, we’ll have started from a much lower unemployment rate than in past recessions, meaning it won’t go as high as it has before, and it should be easier to get back to the low levels we’d now like to become accustomed to.

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If only Labor's wage changes were as bad as the bosses claim

Have you ever wondered why capitalism has survived for several centuries in the advanced economies? How a relative handful of rich families and company executives have been getting richer and more powerful for so long in countries where everyone gets a vote and could, if they chose, insist on something different?

It’s because the capitalists, counselled and coerced by politicians anxious to keep the peace, have made sure that the plebs, punters and ordinary working families have been given enough of the spoils to keep them reasonably content.

I remind you of this because, for 30 or 40 years in America, and now about a decade in Australia, the capitalist system – economists prefer calling it the market system – hasn’t been giving ordinary workers enough to keep them getting better off, while the few people at the top of the tree have been doing better, year after year.

If you wonder why so many Americans voted for a man like Donald Trump, and now delude themselves that he didn’t lose the last election, why the Yanks seem to be rapidly dismantling their democracy, a big part of their discontent is their loss of faith that the economic system is giving them a fair shake.

Fortunately, it’s nothing like that bad in Australia. Not yet, anyway. What’s true is that the average standard of living in Australia today is no better than it was a decade ago – something that hasn’t happened before in the more than 75 years since World War II.

Over the eight years before the pandemic, wages rose barely faster than inflation. We’ve had wage stagnation, now made a lot worse by the supply-chain disruptions of the pandemic, soaring electricity and gas prices caused by Russia’s war, and by the way floods keep wiping out our fruit and vegetable crops.

When Labor went to this year’s federal election promising to “get wages moving”, I think it struck a chord with many voters.

After we ended centralised wage-fixing by the Industrial Relations Commission in the early 1990s, we moved to collective bargaining at the level of the individual enterprise. Workers’ right to strike was hedged about with many requirements and limits.

At the beginning, more than 40 per cent of workers were covered by enterprise agreements. By now, however, some academic experts calculate that the proportion of workers covered by active agreements is down to about 15 per cent.

At the jobs and skills summit in September, all sides agreed that the enterprise bargaining system had broken down. Last week the government introduced its answer to wage stagnation, the Secure Jobs, Better Pay bill.

It would make a host of changes, many of which strengthen existing provisions of the Fair Work Act, and most of which the industrial parties agree would be improvements. It makes job security and gender pay equity explicit goals of the act, prohibits sexual harassment and requirements that workers keep their pay secret, and strengthens the right of workers with family responsibilities to request flexible working hours. More debatably, it abolishes the Australian Building and Construction Commission.

To repair enterprise bargaining, it clarifies the BOOT – better off overall test – requiring that agreements leave no worker worse off. This was the Business Council’s greatest complaint against enterprise agreements.

One reason such agreements now cover so few workers is that they’re expensive and complex for small and middle-size employers to organise. Hence, the proposal to widen the existing provision for “multi-employer bargaining”: workers in similar enterprises allowed to bargain collectively with a number of employers.

This would widen access to enterprise bargaining. It’s aimed particularly at strengthening the bargaining position of women in low-paid jobs in the aged care, childcare and disability care sector.

Ambit claims and exaggerated rhetoric are standard fare in industrial relations, but the cries of fear and outrage coming from the various employer groups are over the top.

It would “create more complexity, more strikes and higher unemployment,” said one. It was “so fatally flawed” it would “emasculate enterprise bargaining”, according to another outfit. It was “seismic” in its impact, claimed a third.

Methinks they doth … I’d be amazed if they actually believe that stuff. They’re probably still adjusting to the shock of having the unions back in the government tent. They know they won’t be able to stop the bill being passed, so they want at least to be seen opposing it with all their voice.

What changing the law won’t change is that the proportion of workers in a union has fallen from 50 per cent to 14 per cent. The small and middle-size businesses we’re talking about have even fewer union members than that.

No union members, no strike. No strike, no big pay rise. In any case, really powerful unions get big pay rises without needing to strike.

This is an attempt to make bargaining provisions that didn’t work last time, work this time. I doubt if these modest changes will do much to “get wages moving” again. More’s the pity. If I’m right, Australia’s capitalism will remain broken.

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Why labour shortages can be good for you - and the economy

In Professor Ross Garnaut’s much-praised speech to last week’s jobs summit, he told a story about politicians desperately seeking workers. At about the time Anthony Albanese was in Fiji talking about recruiting nurses, the West Australian premier was in Ireland, also trying to recruit nurses.

He sought a meeting with the Irish minister for health, but without success. Why? Because the Irish minister was in Perth trying to recruit nurses.

Garnaut’s point was that, when a country underpays its nurses, it’s open to having them pinched by another, better-paying country.

But I drew a different conclusion. It’s all very well for the nation’s employers to go to Canberra complaining about the desperate labour shortage and demanding that the government lift its target for how many visas for permanent immigrants it will issue this year.

Albanese was persuaded to raise the target from 160,000 to 195,000. But when we’re short of skilled labour at the same time many other rich countries are also short, raising the target and achieving the target are two different things.

My guess is that we’ll be hearing complaints about labour shortages for years to come. And I’m not sure that will be a bad thing. Give me a choice between a jobs market that’s “tight” – as it is now – and one that’s “loose”, with high unemployment, and I know which I’d prefer.

Journalists are trained to be sceptical of claims people make. And when economists hear people complaining that they can’t get enough workers, or that there’ll be shortage of X thousand teachers/doctors/chicken sexers by the year Y, they’re more questioning than sympathetic.

For a start, some part of the worker shortages we keep hearing about is caused by people off work because of COVID. This, surely, must be a problem that will ease in coming months. For another thing, while shortages of skilled workers get the most publicity, many of the shortages are actually for relatively unskilled work as a waiter or behind a counter.

When economists hear businesspeople complaining they “can’t get the staff”, their first question is: have you tried offering a higher wage? What employers never say is “with the low wage and bad conditions I’m offering, I can’t get any takers”. Think fruit-picking.

When you hear of bosses so desperate that they’re giving their existing workers a “loyalty bonus” or offering new workers a “sign-on bonus”, remember this: paying any kind of once-off bonus is a way of avoiding granting a proper pay rise.

This means they’re not yet at desperation point. Sometimes I wonder if businesses are delaying improving pay and conditions while they increase pressure on the government to solve their problem the easier and cheaper way, by hastening the post-pandemic inflow of skilled workers on temporary visas, plus backpackers and overseas students.

But though employers have used high levels of immigration to keep wages low and reduce the need for educating and training our own young people, I doubt they’ll be able to return to that lazy, second-rate world.

Garnaut says immigration is much more likely to raise, rather than lower, average real wages if it’s focused on the permanent migration of people with genuinely scarce and valuable skills that are bottlenecks to valuable Australian production, and which cannot be provided by training Australians.

The other much-praised speech at the jobs summit came from the boss of the Grattan Institute, our top independent think tank, Danielle Wood. Garnaut and Wood had the same message: with the unemployment rate down to 3.4 per cent, we must seize this chance to return to the “full employment” Australia hasn’t enjoyed since Garnaut (and I) were growing up in the 1950s, ’60s, and early ’70s.

Wood wants achieving and maintaining full employment to be our “economic lodestar”. Already being so close to it “means that more people who want a job now have one. It means that some people otherwise at the fringes of the labour market – young people looking for their first job, people with a disability, older workers, and the long-term unemployed – are now seeing doors open in ways they haven’t in the past,” she said.

“When unemployment is low, it lowers the cost of leaving a bad job and finding a better one. This is good for productivity.

“Poor-performing businesses that survive, not on the strength of their products or services but off the back of exploiting their workers, are driven out. Investments and workers flow instead to better-run businesses.

“And when workers are harder to find, businesses have an incentive to invest in new equipment and processes, which ultimately boosts productivity and drives higher living standards,” she said.

Garnaut agrees. “Full employment is hard work for employers,” he said. “Many prefer unemployment, with easy recruitment at lower wages. Yet full employment has advantages for many employers. It brings larger and more stable demand for consumer goods and services for businesses selling in the Australian market.

“And for employers who identify as Australians, it brings enjoyment of a more cohesive and successful society.” Sounds good to me.

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