What they don't tell you about how the budget works

Now we have some space, there are things I should tell you that there’s never time for on budget night. If you don’t know these things, the media can unwittingly mislead you, and the government spin doctors can knowingly mislead you.

A budget’s just a plan for how much income you’re expecting in the coming period, and what you want to spend it on. Governments have budgets and so do businesses and families.

You may think you know a lot about budgeting and that all you need is common sense, but the federal government’s budget ain’t like any other budget you’ve known.

Where people go wrong is assuming the government’s budget is the same as their own household budget, only much bigger. Families budget so they don’t end up spending more than they earn.

But governments often spend more than they raise in taxes – run at a “deficit” – and only occasionally spend less than they raise – run a “surplus”. When they run deficits, they borrow to cover it; when occasionally they run a surplus, they can pay back a bit of it.

Governments can borrow, and keep borrowing, in a way families can’t. Why? Because they can’t go broke. When they run short of money, they can do what no family can do: order all the other families to give them money. It’s called taxation.

And national governments can go one step further and print their own money. Money is just a piece of plasticky stuff that’s worth, say, $50. Why is it worth $50? For no reason other than that the government says it is, and everyone believes it.

Actually, these days the government doesn’t print money so much as create it out of thin air, by crediting bank accounts. This is done not by the government itself, but by a bank the government owns: the Reserve Bank. It created hundreds of billions during the pandemic (although now the Reserve is making the government gradually pay it back, by actually borrowing the money).

Everyone knows that whatever you borrow has to be paid back. What’s more, you have to keep paying interest on the debt until it is paid back. Parents know they have to get any home loan paid back before they retire.

The trouble with a family is that eventually it dies. The kids grow up and start families of their own, then mum and dad pop off. But governments don’t die. The nation’s government acts on behalf of all the families in the country. There are always some families dying, but always others taking their place.

This is why families have to pay back their debts, but governments don’t – and often choose not to. Because governments go on and on, the main way they get on top of their debts is by waiting for the economy to outgrow them, so the size of their debt declines relative to the size of the economy.

Remember, unless you add to it, a debt is a fixed dollar amount, whereas the size of the economy – gross domestic product – grows with inflation and “real” economic growth.

The final thing making government budgets different from family budgets is that a particular family’s budget is too small to have any noticeable effect on the economy, whereas the federal budget is so big – about a quarter the size of the economy – that changes the government makes in its spending and taxing plans can have a big effect on an individual family’s budget and indeed, many families’ budgets.

But it also works the other way: what happens to one family won’t have a noticeable effect on the budget, but what happens to many families – say, everyone’s getting bigger pay rises, or many families are cutting back because they’re having trouble coping with the cost of living – certainly will affect the budget.

What common sense doesn’t tell you is that there’s a two-way relationship between the budget and the economy. The budget can affect the economy, but the economy can affect the budget.

Whenever a treasurer announces on budget night that he (one day we’ll get a she) is expecting the budget deficit to turn into a surplus, the media usually assume this must be because of something he’s done.

Possibly, but it’s more likely to be because of something the economy did. In this month’s budget, it’s because the economy’s been growing strongly, leading families and companies to earn more income and pay more tax on it.

Because many in the media imagine the government’s budget is the same as a family’s budget, they assume that budget deficits are always a bad thing and surpluses a good thing.

Not necessarily. If the budget was in surplus during a recession, that would be a bad thing because it would mean that, by raising more in taxes than it was spending, the budget would be making life even harder for families.

Only when the economy’s growing too fast and adding to inflation pressure is it good to have the budget in surplus and so helping to slow things down. And deficits are a good thing when the economy’s in recession because this means that, by spending more than it’s raising in taxes, the budget’s helping to prop up the economy.

But not to worry. When the economy goes into recession, the budget tends to go into deficit – or an existing deficit gets bigger – automatically. Why? Because people pay less tax and the government has to pay unemployment benefits to more people. Economists call this the budget’s “automatic stabilisers”.

Hidden away in the budget papers you find Treasurer Jim Chalmers quietly admitting he has no intention of trying to pay off the big public debt he inherited. His “overarching goal” is to “reduce gross debt as a share of the economy over time”.

Finally, for a family, a $4 billion surplus is an unimaginably huge sum of money. But for a federal government, it’s petty cash.

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Chalmers and Lowe: good cop, bad cop on the inflation beat

Have you noticed? There’s a contradiction at the heart of Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ budget. Is it helping or harming inflation?

Both Chalmers and Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe are agreed that our top priority must be to get the rate of inflation down. That’s fine. Everybody hates the way prices have been shooting up. The cost of living has become impossible. Do something!

But while Lowe seems to be just making it all worse, jacking up mortgage interest rates higher and higher, nice Mr Chalmers is using his budget to take a bit of the pressure off, helping with electricity bills, cutting prescription costs and so on.

It’s as though Lowe is the arsonist, sneaking round the bush to start more fires, while Chalmers is the Salvos, turning up at the scene to give the tired firefighters a kind word, a pie and a cup of tea.

Is that how you see it? That’s the way Chalmers wants you to see it, and Lowe knows full well it’s his job to be Mr Nasty at times like this.

But what on earth’s going on? Has the world gone crazy? No, it’s just the usual dance between brutal economics on one hand, and always-here-to-help politics on the other.

Let’s start from scratch. Why do we have an inflation problem? Because, for the past 18 months or so, the prices of the things we buy have been shooting up, rising much faster than our wages, causing the cost of living to become tough for many people.

Why have prices been rising so rapidly? Partly because the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s attack on Ukraine caused international shortages of building materials, cars, computer chips and fossil fuels. But also because the massive increase in our governments’ payments during the pandemic left us cashed up and spending big on locally made goods and services.

When the suppliers of the stuff we buy can’t keep up with our demand for it, they raise their prices. The media may call this “price gouging”, but economists believe it’s what happens naturally in a market economy – and should happen because the higher price gives the suppliers an incentive to produce more. When they do, the price will come down.

When inflation takes off like this, what can the managers of the economy do to stop prices rising so fast? They can do nothing to magically increase supply; that takes time. But what they can do is reduce demand – discourage us from spending so much.

How? This is where it gets nasty. By squeezing households’ finances so hard they have to cut their spending. Once demand for the stuff they’re selling falls back, businesses are much less keen to raise their prices.

At present, households are being squeezed from all directions. The main way is that wages aren’t keeping up with the rise in prices. As well, more of the wage rises people are getting is being eaten up by income tax, thanks to “bracket creep”.

And the fall in house prices means home-owning households aren’t feeling as wealthy as they were.

All that’s before you get to Mr Nasty, raising the interest rates paid by people with mortgages, which is particularly tough on young home owners, with more recent, much bigger mortgages.

(You may wonder if this extra pressure on, say, only about 20 per cent of all households is either fair or the most effective way to get total household spending to slow. And you may be right, but you’d be way ahead of the world’s economists, who think the way they’ve always done it is the only way they could do it.)

But what part is the budget – “fiscal policy” – supposed to play in all this? It should be helping put the squeeze on, not reducing it. Now do you see why some are questioning whether Chalmers’ $14.6 billion “cost-of-living relief package” will help or hinder the cause of lower inflation?

The budget balance shows whether government spending is putting more money into the economy, and its households, than it’s taking out in taxes. If so, the budget’s running a deficit. If it’s taking more money out than it’s put back in, the budget’s running a surplus.

The way the Reserve Bank judges whether the budget is increasing the squeeze on households, or easing it, is to look at the size and direction of the expected change in budget balance from one year to the next.

The budget papers show the budget balance is planned to change from an actual deficit of $32 billion last financial year, 2021-22, to an expected surplus of $4 billion in this financial year, ending next month.

That’s an expected tightening of $36 billion, equivalent to 1.6 per cent of the size of the whole economy, gross domestic product.

No doubt such a change is adding a big squeeze to household incomes. But then the budget balance is expected to worsen in the coming financial year, 2023-24, to a deficit of $14 billion. That’s an easing of pressure on households’ finances equivalent to 0.7 per cent of GDP.

Put the two years together, however, and its clear the budget will still be putting a lot of squeeze on households – on top of all the other squeeze coming from elsewhere.

Somewhere in there is most of Chalmers’ $14.6 billion relief package. As a matter of arithmetic, it’s undeniably true that, had the package – which, by the way, is expected to reduce the consumer price index by 0.75 percentage points – not happened, the squeeze would be, say, $10 billion tighter than it’s now expected to be.

But there’s no way, looking at that – and all the other sources of squeeze – the Reserve will be saying, gosh, Chalmers is adding to inflation pressure, so we’d better raise rates further.

Chalmers has said the “stance” of fiscal policy adopted in the budget is “broadly neutral”. Not quite. So, I’ll say the nasty word Mr Nice Guy doesn’t want to: the stance is “mildly contractionary”.

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How budget spin doctors manipulate our first impressions

These days, federal budgets are just as much marketing and media management exercises as they are financial and economic documents. That’s because the spin doctors’ role has become central to the way Canberra works. This is just as true under Labor as the Coalition. Media management is a characteristic of government by the two-party duopoly.

Budgets are actually the management plan for controling the government’s spending and tax-raising over the coming financial year. Because you can’t do a budget without first making guesses about what will be happening in the economy at the time, the budget documents contain detailed economic forecasts and commentary about what it has supposed will happen.

These forecasts are taken very seriously on budget night, but rarely referred to again. That’s because this era of dominant “monetary policy” (manipulation of interest rates), conducted by an independent central bank, means it’s the Reserve Bank’s forecasts that matter.

We’ve had those already, on Friday. The financial markets care more about the Reserve’s opinions than the government’s because they’re always trying to guess what the central bank will do to interest rates. What’s more, the RBA revises its forecasts quarterly, so the budget forecasts soon become outdated.

All this means the government’s forecasts can’t be very different from the Reserve’s. Differ by more than half a percentage point, and you get headlines about a split between Treasury and the central bank. Nothing the econocrats hate more (even though there’s unceasing rivalry between the two outfits).

A separate question is what effect the budget, and particularly the new measures it contains, will have on the economy: on gross domestic product, inflation and unemployment. Now that the macroeconomic fashion (aka “best practice”) dictates that the management of demand be left to the central bank – except in emergencies, such as the pandemic – the budget papers will contain little discussion of this.

But the inescapable fact remains that, the federal budget being so big relative to the economy, everything it does affects economic growth. That’s true whether the economic effects were intended or are the unintended consequence of politically driven decisions. All budget measures are political but, equally, all have economic consequences.

At this time of year, many people say they don’t know why the government is bothering to hold a budget when it has already announced the changes it’s making. Well, not quite.

What’s true is that, these days, budgets – and the days leading up to them – are highly stage-managed by the spin doctors. These people are based in the PMO – prime minister’s office – with extension into every minister’s office, via the minister’s press secretary. All paid for by the taxpayer, naturally.

The spin doctors’ job is to use the “mainstream media” to convey to voters an unduly favourable view of the government and the things it’s doing. They do this by exploiting the foibles of journalists and their editors.

Hence, the common trick of releasing potentially embarrassing information late on a Friday, when it’s less likely to make the bulletin. The hope is that, by Monday, the under-reported story is passed over as “old”.

The spinners have the great advantage of a near monopoly over news about what the government is doing. Much of this news is put into press releases, but much is held for selective release to journalists and outlets that are in favour with the government. Write a piece like this one and don’t expect to be popular.

In the olden days, many budget “leaks” really were leaks, the product of journalists talking to bureaucrats and putting two and one together to make four. These days, bureaucrats are forbidden to speak to journos, so most budget leaks have come from the spin doctors, intended to soften us up for what’s to come.

Sometimes, something – say, that the government has decided to increase the JobKeeper payment only for the over-55s – is leaked to just one or two news outlets to “run it up the flagpole and see who salutes”. If it goes over well enough, it will happen. If there’s a big adverse reaction it may never be heard of again.

Any bad news is usually officially announced ahead of the budget, so it won’t spoil the budget’s reception on the night. Lots of small but nice decisions will be announced early, so they don’t get overlooked on the night.

But, particularly if there has been a big pre-announced unpopular measure, the spinners will save some nice, un-foreshadowed hip-pocket measure for unveiling on the night. This, being the only major budget measure that’s “new”, will dominate the media’s reporting. I call it the cherry on top.

As a former treasurer, John Kerin, demonstrated in 1991 – much to the disapproval of Paul Keating - there is no genuine need for reporters to be locked up and allowed to see the budget papers well before the treasurer delivers his speech at 7.30pm, immediately after the ABC evening news.

But the budget “lockup” persists to this day because of its great media-management advantages. It’s of much benefit to have the treasurer’s made-for-telly (that is, full of spin) budget speech broadcast in prime time, rather than after lunch. (The smaller disadvantage is that the ABC gives the leader of the opposition – not the shadow treasurer – right of reply, at the same time on Thursday night.)

The other advantage of a lockup is that letting journalists out so late in the day gives them little time to ask independent experts what they thought of the budget. Rather, they’ve spent six hours locked up with Treasury heavies. (I remember one saying to me, long ago: “Not much there to criticise, eh?” )

This media manipulation usually ensures the media’s first impressions are more favourable to the government than they should be, getting the budget off to a good start with the voters. Only on day two do the interest groups finish combing through the fine print and finding the carefully hidden nasties.

All pretty grubby, but true.

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RBA review attacks the groupthink of others, but not its own

With more time to think about it, it’s clear the review of the Reserve Bank is not the sweeping blockbuster shake-up overhaul we were told it was. Even if all its recommendations are accepted, ordinary borrowers and savers won’t discern any difference in the way interest rates go up and down. But to those who work at the Reserve, and the small army of people who make a lucrative living second-guessing its decisions, the proposed “modest improvements” are a big deal.

Ostensibly, they’re aimed at getting the Reserve up to “world best practice”. But that’s just a spin doctor’s term for doing things the same way everyone else does them. Where’s the evidence that the conventional wisdom is sure to be “best practice”?

It’s also a way of concealing the colonial cringe. Because the rich world’s financial markets are now so highly integrated, with the biggest rich country’s Wall Street setting the lead, most people in our financial market think that if we’re not doing it the way the US Federal Reserve does it, we’re obviously doing it wrong.

This inferiority complex is reinforced because, for the past 30 years, most other central banks have conformed to the US Fed’s ways – even the world’s best colony-conscious country, Britain, has switched to the Fed’s way.

So, what is the Fed’s way? To have interest rates set by a special committee of outside experts, meeting eight times a year not monthly, with each member employed part-time and getting lots of research assistance.

The monetary policy committee should hold a press conference after every meeting and each member should give at least one speech a year on the topic.

To be fair, the Reserve’s Americanisation was pre-ordained by Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ terms of reference and his decision to have the inquiry led by Carolyn Wilkins, a former Bank of Canada heavy and now Bank of England heavy.

Of course, just because we do things differently to the others doesn’t guarantee we’re doing it better, any more than it means we’ve been doing it worse. I’d say our performance over the past 30 years – since the introduction of inflation targeting – has seen a few missteps, but been at least as good as any of the others.

And if the American way is “best practice”, how come the Fed’s been so heavily criticised for being slow to respond to the inflation surge?

But let’s be frank. The review’s big criticism of the Reserve is that it’s too insular, too inward looking and inbred. Except when one Treasury man got the job, governors are always promoted internally. The present governor joined the bank from high school. External appointments to senior economic jobs are rare.

As the review’s critique implies, the Reserve is a one-man band. The governor’s word is law, with limited tolerance for debate. He runs as much of the show as he chooses to, leaving the boring bits to his deputy.

It suits the governor to have a board stacked with business people because, not being economists, their doubts are easily dismissed. Employees would never disagree with the boss in front of the board, and any reservations the Treasury secretary may have would be raised in private.

There always used to be a union leader on the board, but he was let go as part of John Howard’s efforts to delegitimise the union movement which, in his eyes, was in league with his Labor opponents.

This does much to explain the present governor’s ignorance of labour-market realities. Dr Philip Lowe bangs on unceasingly about wages, but excludes unions from the Reserve’s extensive consultations with business and even welfare groups. I don’t remember hearing that swearword “union” ever pass his lips.

There’s always been an academic economist on the board, but they’re in no position seriously to take on the establishment. The board rarely if ever votes on anything. Rather, the chairman-governor “sums up the feeling of the meeting”.

Note, the Reserve has worked this way for the four decades I’ve been watching it. But it does seem to have become more insular and, as the review charges, more subject to “groupthink”, under Lowe.

The inquiry heard from young ex-Reserve economists saying they’d been warned that expressing doubt about the house line would harm their promotion prospects. I’ve been hearing that lately, too.

It’s madness for the Reserve to recruit the cream of each year’s graduating economists, then tell ’em not to speak unless spoken to. And what a way to train the next governor but three.

So, bring an end to groupthink inside the Reserve? Of course. Get a more vigorous debate around the board table before deciding on rates? Sure.

But here’s the joke. While rightly criticising the Reserve for encouraging groupthink, the report is itself a giant case of groupthink. It accepts unquestioningly the conventional wisdom of recent decades that there’s really only one way you could possibly manage the economy through the ups and downs of the business cycle, and that’s by manipulating interest rates.

Any role for “fiscal policy” – changing taxes and government spending? Didn’t think of that but, no, not really. Just make sure it doesn’t get in the way of the central bank.

We’ve fiddled with interest rates so much we’ve got them down to zero. Should we stop? Gosh no. Just think of some way to keep going. The review accepts that the central banks’ misadventure into “unconventional monetary policy” – UMP – which it sanctifies as “additional monetary policy tools”, is now part of “best practice”.

Really? Competitive currency devaluations are the way to fix the global economy’s ills? Can you hear yourselves?

Apparently, slowing the growth in spending by directly punishing the small proportion of households young and foolish enough to load themselves up with mortgage debt is “best practice”.

No, it’s not. It’s just a sign that the review committee is so caught up by global groupthink that it has never thought there might be a better way.

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RBA inquiry should propose something much better

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Now the hard part for the RBA: when to stop braking

In economics, almost everything that happens has both an upside and a downside. The bad news this week is that the economy’s growth is slowing rapidly. The good news – particularly for people with mortgages and people hoping to keep their job for the next year or two – is that the slowdown is happening by design, as the Reserve Bank struggles to slow inflation, and this sign that its efforts are working may lead it to go easier on its intended further rises in interest rates.

But though it’s now clear the economy has begun a sharp slowdown, what’s not yet clear is whether the slowdown will keep going until it turns into a recession, with sharply rising unemployment.

As the Commonwealth Bank’s Gareth Aird has said, since the Reserve Bank board’s meeting early last month, when it suddenly signalled more rate rises to come, all the numbers we’ve seen – on economic growth, wages, employment, unemployment and the consumer price index – have all come in weaker than the money market was expecting.

What’s more, he says, only part of the Reserve’s 3.25 percentage-point rate increase so far had hit the cash flow of households with mortgages by the end of last year.

“There is a key risk now that the Reserve Bank will continue to tighten policy into an economy that is already showing sufficient signs of softening,” Aird said.

That’s no certainty, just a big risk of overdoing it. So while everyone’s making the Reserve’s governor, Dr Philip Lowe, Public Enemy No. 1, let me say that the strongest emotion I have about him is: I’m glad it’s you having to make the call, not me.

Don’t let all the jargon, statistics and mathematical models fool you. At times like this, managing the economy involves highly subjective judgments – having a good “feel” for what’s actually happening in the economy and about to happen. And it always helps to be lucky.

This week, the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts” for the three months to the end of December showed real gross domestic product – the economy’s production of goods and services – growing by 0.5 per cent during the quarter, and by 2.7 per cent over the calendar year.

If you think 2.7 per cent doesn’t sound too bad, you’re right. But look at the run of quarterly growth: 0.9 per cent in the June quarter of last year, then 0.7 per cent, and now 0.5 per cent. See any pattern?

Let’s take a closer look at what produced that 0.5 per cent. For a start, the public sector’s spending on consumption (mainly the wage costs of public sector workers) and capital works made a negative contribution to real GDP growth during the quarter, thanks to a fall in spending on new infrastructure.

Home building activity fell by 0.9 per cent because a fall in renovations more than countered a rise in new home building.

Business investment spending fell by 1.4 per cent, pulled down by reduced non-residential construction and engineering construction. A slower rate of growth in business inventories subtracted 0.5 percentage points from overall growth in GDP.

So, what was left to make a positive contribution to growth in the quarter? Well, the volume (quantity) of our exports contributed 0.2 percentage points. Mining was up and so were our “exports” of services to visiting tourists and overseas students.

But get this: a 4.3 per cent fall in the volume of our imports of goods and services made a positive contribution to overall growth of 0.9 percentage points.

Huh? That’s because our imports make a negative contribution to GDP, since we didn’t make them. (And, in case you’ve forgotten, two negatives make a positive – a negative contribution was reduced.)

So, the amazing news is that the main thing causing the economy to grow in the December quarter was a big fall in imports – which is just what you’d expect to see in an economy in which spending was slowing.

I’ve left the most important to last: what happened to consumer spending by the nation’s 10 million-odd households? It’s the most important because it accounts for about half of total spending, because it’s consumer spending that the Reserve Bank most wants to slow – and also because the economy exists to serve the needs of people, almost all of whom live in households.

So, what happened? Consumer spending grew by a super-weak 0.3 per cent, despite growing by 1 per cent in the previous quarter. But what happened to households and their income that prompted them to slow their spending to a trickle?

Household disposable income – which is income from wages and all other sources, less interest paid and income tax paid by households – fell 0.7 per cent, despite a solid 2.1 per cent increase in wage income – which reflected pay rises, higher employment, higher hours worked, bonuses and retention payments.

But that was more than countered by higher income tax payments (as wages rose, with some workers pushed into higher tax brackets) and, of course, higher interest payments.

All that’s before you allow for inflation. Real household disposable income fell by 2.4 per cent in the quarter – the fifth consecutive quarterly decline.

That’s mainly because consumer prices have been rising a lot faster than wages. So, falling real wages are a big reason real household disposable income has been falling, not just rising interest rates.

Real disposable income has now fallen by 5.4 per cent since its peak in September quarter, 2021.

But hang on. If real income fell in the latest quarter, how were households able to increase their consumption spending, even by as little as 0.3 per cent? They cut the proportion of household income they saved rather than spent from 7.1 per cent to an unusually low 4.5 per cent.

If I were running the Reserve, I wouldn’t be too worried about strong consumer spending stopping inflation from coming down.

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The rich world should think twice about 'central bankism'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How about sharing the economic pain arround?

If you don’t like what’s happening to interest rates, remember that although the managers of the economy have to do something to reduce inflation, it’s not a case of what former British prime minister Maggie Thatcher called TINA – there is no alternative.

As Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe acknowledged during his appearance before the House of Representatives Standing Committee on Economics last week, there are other ways of stabilising the strength of demand (spending) and avoiding either high inflation or high unemployment, which are worth considering for next time.

So, relying primarily on “monetary policy” – manipulating interest rates – is just a policy choice we and the other advanced economies made in the late 1970s and early 1980s, after the arrival of “stagflation” – high unemployment and high inflation at the same time – caused economists to lose faith in the old way of smoothing demand, which was to rely primarily on “fiscal policy” – manipulation of taxation and government spending in the budget.

The economic managers have a choice between those two “instruments” or tools with which smooth demand. The different policy tools have differing sets of strengths and weaknesses.

Whereas back then we were very aware of the weaknesses of fiscal policy, today we’re aware of the weaknesses of monetary policy, particularly the way it puts a lot more pain on people with home loans than on the rest of us. How’s that fair?

Lowe says the conventional wisdom is to use monetary policy for “cyclical” (short-term) problems and fiscal policy for “structural” (lasting) problems, such as limiting government debt.

But it’s time to review what economists call “the assignment of instruments” – which tool is better for which job. The more so because the government has commissioned a review of the Reserve Bank’s performance for the first time since we moved to monetary policy dominance.

It’s worth remembering that the change of regime was made at a time when Thatcher and other rich-country leaders were under the influence of the US economist Milton Friedman and his “monetarism”, which held that inflation was “always and everywhere a monetary phenomenon” and could be controlled by limiting the growth in the supply of money.

It took some years of failure before governments and central banks realised both ideas were wrong. They switched back to the older and less exciting notion that increasing interest rates, by reducing demand, would eventually reduce inflation. There was no magic, painless way to do it.

Macroeconomists long ago recognised that using policy tools to manage demand was subject to three significant delays (“lags”). First there’s the “recognition lag” – the time it takes the econocrats and their bosses to realise there’s a problem and decide to act.

Then there’s the “implementation lag” – the delay while the policy change is put into effect. Lowe described the cumbersome process of cabinet deciding what changes to make to what taxes or spending programs. Then getting them passed by both houses, then waiting a few weeks or months for the bureaucrats to get organised before start day.

He compared this unfavourably with monetary policy’s super-short implementation delay: the Reserve Bank board meets every month and decides what change to make to the official interest rate, which takes immediate effect.

He’s right. While the two policy tools would have the same recognition lag, monetary policy wins hands down on implementation lag.

But on the third delay, the “response lag” – the time it takes for the measure, once begun, to work its way through the economy and have the desired effect on demand – monetary policy is subject to “long and variable lags”.

Lowe said it took interest rate changes 18 months to two years to have their full effect. But I say most budgetary changes – particularly tax changes – wouldn’t take nearly that long. So, that’s a win for fiscal.

The sad truth is that measures to strengthen demand by cutting interest rates, or cutting taxes and increasing government spending, are always popular with voters, whereas measures to weaken demand by raising interest rates, or raising taxes and cutting government spending, are always unpopular.

This meant politicians were always reluctant to increase interest rates when they needed to, Lowe said. This is a good argument for giving the job to the econocrats at the central bank and making them independent of the elected government.

This became standard practice in the rich economies, although we didn’t formalise it until the arrival of the Howard government in 1996. Lowe advanced this as a good reason to stick with monetary policy as the dominant tool for short-term stabilisation of demand.

Against that, using monetary policy to get to the rest of us indirectly via enormous pressure on the third of households with mortgages shares the burden in a way that’s arbitrary and unfair.

What’s more, it’s not very effective. Because such a small proportion of the population is directly affected, the increase in interest rates has to be that much bigger to achieve the desired restraint in overall consumer spending.

But if the economic managers used a temporary percentage increase in income tax, or the GST, to discourage spending, this would directly affect almost all households. It would be fairer and more effective because the increase could be much smaller.

Various more thoughtful economists – including Dr Nicholas Gruen and Professor Ross Garnaut – have proposed such a tool, which could be established by legislation and thus be quickly activated whenever needed.

A special body could be set up to make these decisions independent of the elected government. Ideally, it would also have control over interest rates, so one institution was making sure the two instruments were working together, not at cross purposes.

Another possibility is Keynes’ idea of using a temporary rate of compulsory saving – collected by the tax office – to reduce spending when required, without imposing any lasting cost on households.

They say if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It’s obvious now that macroeconomic management needs a lot of fixing.

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Memo RBA board: Time to stop digging in deeper on interest rates

If, as seems likely, the combined might of the advanced economies’ central banks pushes the world into recession, the biggest risk isn’t that they’ll drag us down too, but that our Reserve Bank will raise our own interest rates too far.

That’s the message to us – and everyone else – from the International Monetary Fund’s repeated warnings about the unexpected consequences of “synchronised tighten” by the big economies – America, Europe and, in its own way, China, all jamming on the brakes at the same time.

Synchronised macro-policy shifts are a relatively new problem in our more globalised world economy. Until the global financial crisis of 2008, world recessions tended to roll from one country to the next. Since then, everyone tends to start contracting – or stimulating – at the same time.

When you were stimulating while your trading partners weren’t, much of your stimulus would “leak” to their economies, via your higher imports. But, as we learnt in the fight to counter the Great Recession, when everyone’s stimulating together, your leakage to them is offset by their leakage to you, thus making your stimulus stronger than you were expecting.

The fund’s warning is that we’re now about to learn that the same thing happens in reverse when everyone’s hitting the brakes – budgetary as well as monetary – together. Synchronisation will make your efforts to restrain demand (spending on goods and services) more potent than you were expecting.

So the fund’s message to us is: when you’re judging how high interest rates have to go to get inflation heading back down to the target, err on of side to doing too little.

But there are four other factors saying the Reserve should be wary of pushing rates higher. The first is Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ confirmation in last week’s budget that the “stance” of his fiscal policy has also switched from expansionary to restrictive, and so is now adding to the restraint coming from tighter monetary policy.

Chalmers has cut back the Coalition’s spending programs to make room for Labor’s new spending plans, while “banking” the temporary surge in tax revenue arising from the war-caused jump in world energy prices, and the success of the Coalition’s efforts to return us to full employment.

As a result, the budget deficit has fallen from a peak of $134 billion (equivalent to 6.5 per cent of gross domestic product) in 2020-21, to $32 billion (1.4 per cent) in the year to this June. The present financial year should see that progress largely retained, with the deficit rising only a little.

What’s more, the government’s already acting on its intention to force our greedy gas producers to raise their prices by a lot less than has been assumed in the budget’s inflation forecasts.

Second, the Reserve’s efforts to reduce aggregate (total) demand by using the higher cost of borrowing to reduce domestic demand, will be added to by the other central banks’ efforts to reduce our “net external demand” (exports minus imports).

What’s more, the expected further big fall in house prices will help reduce domestic demand by making home owners feel a lot less well-off than they were (the “wealth effect”).

Third – and this is a big point – the restrictive effect of the Reserve’s higher interest rates will be massively reinforced by the “cost-of-living squeeze” (aka the huge fall in real wages). Comparing the wage price index with the consumer price index, real wages fell by 2 per cent over the year to June 2021, and by an unbelievable 3.5 per cent to June this year.

Now the budget’s predicting a further fall of 2 per cent to June next year, with only the tiniest gain by June 2024.

This is an unprecedented blow to households’ income. It just about guarantees an imminent return to weak consumer spending. And it’s a much bigger blow than the big advanced economies have suffered, suggesting our central bank should be going easier on rate rises than theirs.

The final factor saying the Reserve should be wary of pushing rates higher is “lags”. As top international economist Olivier Blanchard reminded us in a recent Twitter thread, monetary policy affects the inflation rate with a variable delay of maybe six to 18 months.

This says you should stop tightening about a year before you see any hard evidence that inflation has peaked and started falling. Wait for that evidence, and you’re certain to have hit the economy too hard, causing the recession we didn’t have to have.

But to stop tightening before the money market know-alls think you should takes great courage.

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Monetary policy is no longer fit for purpose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Housing own goal worsens our inflation problem

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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We're struggling with inflation because we misread the pandemic

It’s an understandable error – and I’m as guilty of it as anyone – but it’s now clear governments and their econocrats misunderstood and mishandled the pandemic from the start. Trouble is, they’re now misreading the pandemic’s inflation phase at the risk of a recession.

The amateurish way governments, central banks and economists have sought to respond to the pandemic is understandable because this is the first pandemic the world’s experienced in 100 years.

But it’s important we understand what we’ve got wrong, so we don’t compound our errors in the inflation phase, and so we’ll know how to handle the next pandemic - which will surely arrive in a lot less than 100 years.

In a nutshell, what we’ve done wrong is to treat the pandemic as though it’s a problem with the demand (or spending) side of the economy, when it’s always been a problem with the supply (or production) side.

We’ve done so because the whole theory and practice of “managing” the macroeconomy has always focused on “demand management”.

We’re trying to smooth the economy’s path through the ups and downs of the business cycle, so as to achieve low unemployment on one hand and low inflation on the other.

When demand (spending by households, businesses and governments) is too weak, thus increasing unemployment, we “stimulate” it by cutting interest rates, cutting taxes or increasing government spending. When demand is too strong, thus adding to inflation, we slow it down by raising interest rates, increasing taxes or cutting government spending.

When the pandemic arrived in early 2020, we sought to limit the spread of the virus by closing our borders to travel, ordering many businesses to close their doors and ordering people to leave their homes as little as possible, including by working or studying from home.

So, the economy is rolling on normally until governments suddenly order us to lock down. Obviously, this will involve many people losing their jobs and many businesses losing sales. It will be a government-ordered recession.

Since it’s government-ordered, however, governments know they have an obligation to provide workers and businesses with income to offset their losses. Fearing a prolonged recession, governments spend huge sums and the Reserve Bank cuts the official interest rate to almost zero.

Get it? This was a government-ordered restriction of the supply of goods and services, but governments responded as though it was just a standard recession where demand had fallen below the economy’s capacity to produce goods and services and needed an almighty boost to get it back up and running.

The rate of unemployment shot up to 7.5 per cent, but the national lockdown was lifted after only a month or two. As soon it was, everyone – most of whom had lost little in the way of income – started spending like mad, trying to catch up.

Unemployment started falling rapidly and – particularly because the pandemic had closed our borders to all “imported labour” for two years – ended up falling to its lowest rate since 1974.

So, everything in the garden’s now lovely until, suddenly, we find inflation shooting up to 6.1 per cent and headed higher.

What do we do? What we always do: start jacking up interest rates to discourage borrowing and spending. When demand for goods and services runs faster than business’s capacity to supply them, this puts upward pressure on prices. But when demand weakens, this puts downward pressure on prices.

One small problem. The basic cause of our higher prices isn’t excess demand, it’s a fall in supply. The main cause is disruption to the supply of many goods, caused by the pandemic. To this is added the reduced supply of oil and gas and foodstuffs caused by Russia’s attack on Ukraine. At home, meat and vegetable prices are way up because of the end of the drought and then all the flooding.

Get it? Once again, we’ve taken a problem on the supply side of the economy and tried to fix it as though it’s a problem with demand.

Because the pandemic-caused disruptions to supply are temporary, the Ukraine war will end eventually, and production of meat and veg will recover until climate change’s next blow, we’re talking essentially about prices that won’t keep rising quarter after quarter and eventually should fall back. So surely, we should all just be patient and wait for prices to return to normal.

Why then are the financial markets and the econocrats so worried that prices will keep rising, we’ll be caught up in a “wage-price spiral” and the inflation rate will stay far too high?

Short answer: because of our original error in deciding that a temporary government-ordered partial cessation of supply should be treated like the usual recession, where demand is flat on its back and needs massive stimulus if the recession isn’t to drag on for years.

If we’d only known, disruptions to supply were an inevitable occurrence as the pandemic eased. What no one foresaw was everyone cooped up in their homes, still receiving plenty of income, but unable to spend it on anything that involved leaving home.

It was the advent of the internet that allowed so many of us to keep working or studying from home. And it was the internet that allowed us to keep spending, but on goods rather than services. It’s the huge temporary switch from buying services to buying goods that’s done so much to cause shortages in the supply of many goods.

But it’s our misdiagnosis of the “coronacession” – propping up workers and industries far more than they needed to be – that’s left us with demand so strong it’s too easy for businesses to get away with slipping in price increases that have nothing to do with supply shortages.

Now all we need to complete our error is to overreact to the price rises and tighten up so hard we really do have an old-style recession.

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Labor mustn't be panicked into doing something stupid

Who’d want to be the new Treasurer, Dr Jim Chalmers? Certainly, not me. But that won’t stop me giving him a shed-load of free advice. Starting now.

As Chalmers sees it, the economy he’s inherited is in “dire” straits. Everywhere he looks there’s another problem. First, “skyrocketing” inflation.

Second, falling real wages as “a consequence of almost a decade of the deliberate undermining of pay and job security, now coming home to roost in the form of a full-blown cost-of-living crisis”.

And third, a budget “heaving with more than $1 trillion in debt” and worse (though he doesn’t mention it), a budget projected to stay in structural deficit for as far as the eye can see, meaning the debt continues to grow in dollar terms, and falls relative to the growing size of the economy only after a delay, and only slowly.

He could have added a fourth problem: a hostile international economic environment, with a fair risk of the US falling into recession and, worse, a major trading partner – China – that’s mishandling both its response to the pandemic (think more supply-chain disruptions) and its management of the macroeconomy.

Chalmers is, of course, doing what all incoming treasurers (and chief executives) do and laying it on thick. Like Mother Hubbard, he’s discovered the cupboard is bare. Actually, he’s cleaning out the cupboards and finding all the bad stuff his predecessor hid. He’s snapping people out of the campaign fairyland, where government spending can go up while taxes go down and deficits fall.

Even so, his four big problems are real enough – and seem to be getting worse as each week passes. The latest gas crisis is a parting gift from the Liberals, arising from nine years of indecision about how the transition from fossil fuel to renewables should be managed to avoid unexpected mishaps – such as a Russia-caused leap in global fossil fuel prices.

So what should he do? Avoid being panicked by the many partisan ill-wishers and ideological barrow-pushers who would do so. He needs to think carefully about the various problems, the highest priorities, the right order in which to tackle them, their varying degrees of difficulty and urgency, and the way they interrelate - the ways he can kill two birds with one stone, or make choices to fix one problem that make another problem worse.

Chalmers should be wary of conventional thinking about problems that are of unconventional origins. Just as the “coronacession” was unlike an ordinary recession because it was caused by government-imposed restraints on the supply side rather than efforts to curb excessive demand, so he shouldn’t be using demand restraint to try to fix disruptions to supply.

Inflation problems normally arise from an overheated economy leading to excessive wage growth. The standard solution will involve cutting real wages to make labour less expensive. But we’ve had weak real wage growth for a decade.

Those ideologically opposed to fiscal stimulus tell us our stimulus has given us a red hot, inflation-prone economy – as proved by our super-tight labour market. They conveniently forget to mention that the pandemic caused us to ban all imported labour for two years, but that this supply constraint has now been lifted.

If excessive wage growth didn’t cause our high and rising prices, what did? Fiscal stimulus has caused shortages of materials and workers in housing and construction, but most of the price rises have come from external supply constraints caused by the pandemic and the war on Ukraine.

Nothing we could do can fix problems coming from the rest of the world. But we shouldn’t forget that these are once-off price increases. And those import prices will fall at some stage as pandemic disruptions are resolved and the war ends.

It’s not that simple, of course. Why not? Because our businesses don’t seem to have hesitated in passing their increased import costs through to retail prices. That’s the start not of a wage-price spiral, but price-wage spiral. And business and employer groups’ solution to the spiral is simple: allow only a token increase in wages, and inflation will come down in no time.

This is the unspoken doctrine that’s the bastard child of the economic rationalist era: give business whatever it demands and everything in the economy will be wonderful. The business lobby has become so consumed by short-sighted self-interest – so used to getting its own way – that we need a new government with the wisdom and strength to save business from its own folly.

We need a government capable of seeing what business can’t: that wages aren’t just a cost to business and an impost on profits, but also the chief source of income for the 10 million households who are the reason we have an economy and whose spending on the things our businesses produce is what generates their profits in the first place.

Screwing the workers by tolerating ever-falling real wages is a delusional way to increase profits in anything but the short term. The bigger the fall in real wages – and the government can’t stop them falling – the more Labor risks joining the US and China in recession.

This is why, in its worthy desire to keep big business in the tent, the government was wrong to ask the Fair Work Commission to increase award wages by 5.1 per cent only for “low-paid” workers – that is, only about the bottom 12 per cent of workers rather than the bottom 25 per cent.

Do you really think the 88 per cent of workers reliant on bargaining with bosses rather than a commission edict will get anything like a 5 per cent pay rise?

Former Reserve Bank governor Bernie Fraser used to say that any fool could get inflation down – all you had to do was crunch the economy. Is that what business would like? It’s certainly what the financial markets – whose model of our economy is a footnote saying “see America” – want.

As I’m sure the Reserve well understands, we need to get inflation down without causing a recession. And that means being patient about how long it takes. We were below the target range for six years; we can be above it for a few years without the sky falling.

And remember this: if we did fall into recession, the strategy of growing our way out of debt would explode. Not only would the economy be growing more slowly than the debt, the budget’s “automatic stabilisers” would reverse and the deficit would blow out, greatly increasing the debt.

On the other hand, Chalmers should be sceptical of the argument that an additional reason we need to cut the budget deficit ASAP is to reduce the need for interest rates to rise so far. Getting inflation under control is not a big ask – provided we’re patient.

The Reserve’s stated strategy is to shift the stance of monetary policy only from “emergency expansionary” to “neutral”. That is, to take its foot off the accelerator, not to jam on the brakes. This means slowly lifting the official interest rate to about 2.5 per cent, so the medium-term real interest rate is zero.

In theory, at least, this should not cause the economy to contract, nor great pain to most people with mortgages. And it would be a good thing in itself to get rates up to a level remotely approaching normal.

The real challenge for budget policy is to avoid getting us in deeper by proceeding with the stage-three tax cut in its present timing, size and form. It could be rejigged to make it more effective in relieving cost-of-living pressures for people in the bottom half.

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Who's in government matters, but pollies have far from total control

According to Scott Morrison’s last-minute appeal, in deciding our vote we should have considered nothing but the economy and stuck with the Coalition, the only team to be trusted with financial matters. But we spurned his advice and put Labor in charge. Now what happens?

Will the economy be better or worse under Anthony Albanese and a new treasurer, Jim Chalmers?

Short answer: whether economic conditions get better or worse in the next three years will be changed only to an extent by a new government. Things will be different, but not hugely so.

That’s for four reasons. First, because, in our more globalised world, much of what happens is beyond the ability of any government to control. Second, because economies are like ocean liners: they take a long time to answer the helm.

Third, because in this small-target election, Labor’s stated policies weren’t greatly different from the Liberals’. And finally, the elected government shares the management of the economy with the independent Reserve Bank, which made its intention to continue raising interest rates crystal clear earlier this month.

In their response to the pandemic, Morrison and his erstwhile treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, stuck pretty closely to Treasury advice about the budget’s role. And I’ll be surprised to see Labor doing much freelancing.

But aren’t the Libs much better at economic management than Labor? That’s the stereotype deeply ingrained in the thinking of many voters – which Morrison was seeking to evoke in his last-minute appeal.

Trouble is, hard evidence to support this pre-judgment is hard to find. In a recent extensive review of the figures by the independent economist Saul Eslake, he could find no strong support for the idea that one side was clearly better than the other.

Why not? For the four reasons I’ve just listed.

So how is Labor likely to do? Not as well as the new government’s supporters hope, but not as badly as its opponents predicted. At this early stage, however, when we’re so fully conscious of the failings of the last lot, we’re entitled to hope for some improvement.

One we can hope for is that the new government won’t be playing favourites and enemies like Morrison did.

Whatever does happen to the economy in the next few years, one thing we can be sure of is that the Libs will claim to have handed over an economy in tip-top condition. Morrison and Frydenberg spent the entire campaign telling us how “strong” the economy is.

It is in some respects, but not in others. It’s certainly true that the jobs market is in better shape than it’s been in decades. At 3.9 per cent, the unemployment rate is at its lowest in 48 years and underemployment is its lowest in 14 years. The proportion of working-age people with jobs has never been higher.

You’d expect this to mean wages are also growing strongly, but not a bit of it. Wages have struggled to keep up with prices for the past decade and, with the recent surge in prices, have fallen well behind.

Part of the reason is that, thanks to weak business investment in better equipment, there’s been little improvement in the productivity of labour. Living standards have hardly improved in since before the Coalition took the reins in 2013.

It’s weak wage growth that does most to explain why the high cost of living seemed the biggest issue in this election. And it’s the cost of living that helps explain why voters turned on the self-proclaimed great economic managers.

Business profits are doing fine, but the Liberals have failed to deliver ordinary working families their fair share of the lolly – and allowed many of their jobs to become less secure. And that’s before you get to the huge budget deficits the government itself foresaw extending further than the eye could see.

There’s one issue it’s reasonable to expect Labor to care more about and do more to fix: making wages grow faster. Can any government do much about wages? Of course. They can start by urging the Fair Work Commission to lift award wages in line with prices. And give their own employees a decent pay rise after years of wages being held back.

A staunch Liberal mate thinks this was a good election for his side to lose. He thinks the world economy’s likely to weaken and this, combined with our problem using higher interest rates to control inflation, might see us fall back into recession.

I’m not so pessimistic.

There may be some rocky times ahead as the world copes with its various problems. But the Reserve Bank knows if it raises interest rates so high they capsize the economy, all fingers will be pointing to it, not to Albanese and Chalmers.

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Unlike the media, econocrats in no great hurry to raise interest rates

The financial markets and financial press may have convinced themselves we have a serious inflation problem and must hit the interest-rate brakes early and often, but the clear message from our top econocrats is that they aren’t in such a hurry. Their eyes haven’t moved from the prize: seizing this chance to achieve genuine full employment.

Nothing in Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy’s remarks to a Senate committee this week suggested he was anxious about our recent rise in prices, nor hinted that a rise in the official interest rate was imminent.

Indeed, “interest rates are still close to zero and expected to remain historically low for some time,” he said.

What little he said about inflation was that “the effects of COVID on inflation, often characterised as a combination of increased demand for goods [at the expense of demand for services] and supply-side shocks, are still passing through the economy.

“Fortunately, these impacts have been much less pronounced in Australia than in other countries. Nevertheless, the impacts have been felt and headline inflation is currently at an 11-year high.” (Not hard when inflation has been so low for so long.)

It’s true Kennedy also said that “it will not be until we see interest rates rise back to more usual levels that the risks associated with very low interest rates abate”.

But it’s clear he meant it would take years before the Reserve had rates back up to “more usual levels” - such as an official rate of 3, 4 or 5 per cent – not to give a big hint that Commonwealth Bank economists were right in predicting this week that the Reserve would start whacking up the official rate at its first board meeting after the May election.

And he was also making a quite different point. Settle back. Usually, he said, monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates) is the primary tool with which to manage economic cycles, with fiscal policy (the manipulation of government spending and taxes in the budget) focusing on economic growth and budget stability.

Of course, in this conventional approach fiscal was complementary to monetary policy primarily through the workings of the budget’s “automatic stabilisers” (which cut tax collections and increase the number of dole payments when private sector demand is weak, but do the reverse when private demand is strong).

However, when major shocks to the economy come along, fiscal policy plays a more active role. And shocks to the economy don’t come bigger than the pandemic.

In any case, lockdowns cut the supply of goods and services, whereas monetary policy works to encourage demand – provided there’s plenty of scope to cut interest rates, which there wasn’t because rates were already close to zero.

So fiscal became the dominant policy instrument, with huge increases in government spending – including on the JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme – leading to huge increases in the budget deficit and public debt.

Got that? Now for Kennedy’s big announcement: “This unusual episode of macro-economic policy is now coming to an end.”

From here on, the dominant role will revert to monetary policy, with fiscal policy taking a step back.

Why? Well, partly because monetary policy will be busy for years getting interest rates back to “more usual levels”.

In which case, Kennedy says, “it is important that the withdrawal of fiscal policy support is tapered, as it currently is, to ensure that monetary policy has an opportunity to normalise”. (In the lingo of econocrats, “tapered” means something reduces slowly and steadily, not sharply and suddenly.)

As Kennedy says, the tapered withdrawal of fiscal policy support has already been arranged. That’s because all the government’s stimulus measures were designed to be temporary. So, as those programs wind up, the level of government spending – and the size of the budget deficit – will fall noticeably over the next few financial years.

Which means that what he’s really saying is there should be no additional, discretionary moves to hasten the return to a lower budget deficit. Why not? So monetary policy has an opportunity to “normalise”.

Get it? Over coming years, the Reserve will have to move interest rates up a long way to get them back where they should be – that is, to a level where borrowers have to compensate savers both for the loss of their money’s purchasing-power (that is, for inflation) and for being given the (temporary) use of the savers’ money.

But the Reserve’s scope to do this will be constrained if, while it’s trying to tighten monetary policy, the government’s rapidly tightening fiscal policy.

And Kennedy says there’s “an even more compelling reason” for fiscal policy support for demand not to be withdrawn too abruptly. Which is? “The opportunity to achieve full employment”. The “important opportunity to achieve and sustain full employment.”

No one knows how far unemployment can fall before shortages of labour cause wages to grow at rates that worsen inflation. Which, Kennedy says, suggests we need to exercise “a degree of caution” in tightening both fiscal policy and monetary policy.

All this fits with the remarks Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe made to a House of Reps committee the week before.

Lowe made it clear most of our inflation problem was temporary, not lasting. Although underlying inflation was 2.6 per cent, for the first time in years, “it is too early to conclude that inflation is sustainably in the target range”.

The Reserve has “scope to wait and see how the data develop and how some of the uncertainties are resolved” – one of which is whether “the stronger labour market [is] going to translate to higher wages”.

“I think it’s worth taking the time to have the uncertainties resolved and trying to secure this low rate of unemployment, which we have not had for 50 years.”

The financial types may be in panic mode over inflation, but it doesn’t sound to me like our top econocrats are in any mood to join them.

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Fear is driving good economic policy out of the political market

When it comes to politicians, some are good shots and some are cheap shots. These days, the successful politicians – you wouldn’t call them leaders – have relied heavily on cheap shots. The cheapest being to spread fear.

The simple truth is that humans have evolved to continually check their environment for threats. Those who weren’t so obsessively cautious died from some misadventure before they’d managed to have kids.

One way of defining civilisation is that it’s the quest to remove all threats to life and limb. This is the largest role performed by government and the main thing our taxes pay for.

The welfare state – including universal health care and social security payments – is about removing the threat of people dying because they’re too old or sick or disabled to work, or just can’t find a job. The welfare state is a giant risk-sharing system, a massive insurance scheme.

But though our lives have become infinitely less risky – one reason we live much longer than our great grandparents - we go on scanning our environment for threats. Which is good news for the news media - and the reason most of the news they choose to tell us is about bad things – and for less-scrupulous politicians.

Politicians have long known how easy it is to play on our fears to their own advantage. In our more racist past, the “Yellow Peril” was a frequent issue in election campaigns. Scott Morrison’s AUKUS nuclear subs deal led pollster Peter Lewis to wonder whether Morrison would consider “tapping the Coalition’s longstanding brand advantage on national security for a fear campaign about China’s rising influence”.

As the independent economist Saul Eslake rarely loses an opportunity to remind us, in recent years it has suited politicians to greatly exaggerate the risk we face from terrorists. Both sides have been happy to play to our fears that all those people arriving in leaky boats would take our jobs and clog our highways.

But issues of economic management are far from immune to the fear treatment.

Since politics has become so professionalised – a career path you start on after university, rather than a contribution you make after succeeding in some other field – politicians are people who worry more about what they have to do or say to attain and retain power than about why they need power to fix all the things they believe need fixing.

The more we’ve come to distrust our politicians – all politicians – the more they’ve realised the only thing they can say that we’ll believe is how bad their opponents are. Ask a minister how the government’s policy would work and the answer you get is disparagement of the opposition’s policy.

Invariably, any plan to tackle pressing economic problems, or just make the economy work better, has pros and cons, winners and losers. Bingo. A pollie with a plan is a pollie fighting a scare campaign.

One man with a massive plan was economist-turned-pollie Dr John Hewson. He lost the unlosable election in 1993. Another man with a plan was Bill Shorten. He had to fight scare campaigns on every front.

This was partly the Liberals’ retaliation for the success of Labor’s under-the-radar social media Mediscare in the 2016 election. Guess what? The coming federal election will be the battle of the scare campaigns, with as few substantive policies as possible.

Gresham’s Law says bad money drives out good. A new law says scare campaigns drive out policy reform. Or maybe B-grade pollies drive out A-grade. When it comes to standards of political behaviour, it’s always a race to the bottom.

One price we pay for this is that it encourages pollies to take no thought for the morrow. “I’ll just get re-elected and cope with whatever problems arise, if any do.” It raises muddling through to bipartisan policy.

Another price is that we go through the ritual of electing governments with little knowledge of what they secretly hope to do – or may have to get on with if circumstances force their hand. Why risk outlining your intentions when it’s safer to make up stories about your opponents’ evil intent.

But not to worry. An ever-helpful media will spend most of the election campaign pressing them to bind their hands by “ruling out” this and ruling out that. Thanks, guys, that’ll really help.

Since the rise of Tony Abbott, the Coalition has benefited greatly from scare campaigns about the cost of acting to reduce carbon emissions.

But pressure from G7 leaders, international financial markets, sensible Liberal voters threatening to elect independents, and now even the Business Council, may force Morrison to campaign on the claim that moving from fossil fuel to renewable energy could do wonders for the economy.

It’s true – but who’ll believe him?

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The economy can self-correct, but only up to a point

As you’ve no doubt noticed, the crippling lockdowns in Sydney and Melbourne turn out to have one important side-benefit: NSW and Victoria have the highest rates of vaccination, which offers those states a path out of lockdown.

By contrast, the other states – which sensibly closed their borders to people coming from the two highly infected states – have the advantage of not needing to lock down, but the disadvantage of low rates of vaccination.

The two states that built the highest walls against the coronavirus - Queensland and Western Australia – have the lowest vaccination rates. (Which suggests they may not be feeling quite so superior once the lockdowns end and the virus’s chances of penetrating their borders are greatly increased.)

You don’t need me to tell you the two sides of the coin are connected. The incentive to get vaccinated has been greatest in the most infected states and least in the least infected states.

What you may need me to tell you is that this offsetting outcome is just what an economist is trained to expect. One of the most important and useful insights of economics is that market economies possess an inbuilt self-correction mechanism, a negative feedback loop.

Positive feedback causes a variable that’s going up to keep going up and a variable that’s going down to keep going down, whereas negative feedback causes a variable that’s going up to start going down, and a variable that’s going down to start going up.

Don’t take this the wrong way, but economists love negative feedback. Why? Because it returns a market and, by extension, the whole economy, to “equilibrium”.

Equilibrium means a state where everything’s in balance and thus at rest. There is – until the next “shock” to the system comes a long - no pressure for things to change.

What is it that always pushes markets back to equilibrium? “Market forces”.

This refers to the interaction between the demand from consumers for some product on one side and the willingness to supply that product on the other. What brings demand and supply into balance is the “price mechanism” – the price keeps changing until demand and supply are equal and the price is stable.

Say there’s some shock that causes the quantity demanded to exceed the supply available. This will cause the market price to rise, and the rise will send a “price signal” to both buyers and sellers.

The signal to buyers is: buy less. Be less wasteful in your use of the product, or look for similar products that are cheaper. The signal to sellers is the reverse: sell more. Now the product has become more profitable, produce more of it.

So, the price mechanism has caused a fall in the demand for the product and a rise in its supply. This will push the price back down until demand and supply are equal again. The market will have “cleared,” leaving nothing unsold, and the price will be back to about where it was before the shock. Equilibrium will have been restored.

Simple, eh? Neat, eh? And that’s a big part of the reason the economists’ way of thinking about how markets and market-based economies work hasn’t changed much in 150 years.

You see, too, why economists believe that prices – particularly changes in them – are the great incentive for people to change their behaviour. You want to decarbonise the economy? Put a price on carbon emissions.

Another instance of the equilibrating effect of prices is the existence of “arbitrage”, particularly in the markets for shares and other securities. Any difference in the price of the same security in different markets won’t last because the actions of people seeking to profit by buying in the cheaper market and then selling in the dearer market will soon eliminate the discrepancy. Economists call this “the law of one price”.

Putting all this another way, economists have long understood that markets and market economies are, in the modern idiom, “interactive”. Any new action always leads to a reaction, as the people affected change their behaviour to cope with the new development.

This understanding is why economists don’t worry about some developments as much as normal people do. Normal people say: look what’s just happened - it’s terrible. Economists say: yes, but then what happens? They call this the “second-round effect” and their model is supposed to predict what it will be.

For example, economists have never been impressed by all those reports warning that, by 2030, there’ll be a massive national shortage of teachers/nurses/other skilled occupation as all the baby boomers retire. No, there won’t. Why not? Because employers will take evasive action and other employees will take advantage of the opportunities presented.

But the notion of equilibrium can be taken too far. The doctrine of “laissez-faire” (leave it alone) – which lurks just below the surface of what lefty academics call neo-liberalism, but I prefer to call market fundamentalism – says that, since market economies have an inherent ability to return themselves to equilibrium after any shock, government intervention to correct the problem will only make things worse.

This is the old case of taking an element of truth and raising it to the status of a magic answer. The economists’ theory of how markets work is grossly oversimplified. In the real world there are lots of problems that can’t be solved just by leaving it to market forces.

Wait for market forces to stop global warming, and you’ll wait forever, decimating the economy in the process.

Or cases where waiting for the market to solve the problem would take too long or extract an unacceptable price in human suffering. Do nothing about the pandemic and waiting for all of us to get the virus and thus achieve herd immunity would cost too many lives.

The econometric models that economists use to forecast the macroeconomy or predict the effects of some policy proposal rely heavily on the assumption that, over the (unspecified) long term, the economy always returns to where it would otherwise have been. Yeah, sure.

The opposing theory to certain return to equilibrium – which comes from the physical sciences - is “path dependence”. That where you end up after equilibrium is disturbed depends on what else happens to the economy while it’s supposed to be on its way back to where it was. It could be knocked off course and never return to the previous path it was following.

The notion of equilibrium contains a lot of truth. Trouble is, so does the notion of path dependence. As always, the whole truth is somewhere in the middle.

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