We won't achieve economic reform until we start co-operating

If you wonder why the push for economic reform has ground to a halt, I’ve discovered the reason. It’s because the foundational assumption of conventional economics – that individuals competing in pursuit of their self-interest make us all better off – is only half the truth.

If the mention of economic reform made you think of tax reform, then you’re making my point. Those who want a higher GST because they’d benefit if the proceeds were used to lower income or company tax are stymied by the many punters convinced they’d be worse off if this “reform” came to pass.

Many other cases for reform suffer the same fate. Your pursuit of your self-interest is neutered by my pursuit of my mine.

What the conventional economic model misses with its emphasis on individuals, competition and self-interest is that much of the success of the human animal – including its success economically – is owed to people co-operating to achieve changes of benefit to the whole community.

Often, norms of socially acceptable behaviour – entrenched views about what behaviour is ethical and what isn’t - are used to encourage people to put the interests of the group ahead of their own immediate interests. Markets work much better, for instance, if it’s realistic to assume that almost all the people you deal with can be trusted to act honestly.

All this applies in spades to our failure to make progress in the area of reform that’s more important to our economic future even than conquering the coronavirus: stopping emissions of greenhouse gases from wrecking the climate.

Here, the owners and miners of our huge remaining deposits of coal and gas are fighting tooth and nail to delay the day when those deposits become worthless, while the rest of us are encouraged to put the frightening thought of having to pay a bit more for electricity and petrol ahead of the future environmental and economic wellbeing of our children and grandchildren.

It’s okay for the oldies – who, until this year’s bushfire conflagration, fondly imagined they wouldn’t live long enough to suffer the consequences of their selfish short-sightedness. And those who will suffer the consequences have either yet to be born or are only just realising what a mess their loving parents are leaving for them.

But the deterrent to action isn’t just that the (modest) adjustment costs are upfront, whereas the (much greater) costs of inaction are off in the uncertain future. It’s also that the greenhouse effect is global, not local.

As the climate-change deniers love reminding us, no amount of effort to reduce emissions on our part will make much difference until people in other parts of the world are doing the same. In which case, why don’t you and I do nothing and leave it to all the others? (Economists call this the “free-rider” problem.)

All this may explain why a recent discussion paper from the Academy of the Social Sciences in Australia, Efficient, Effective and Fair, included a chapter on the moral case for action on climate change, written by Professor Garrett Cullity, a philosopher from the University of Adelaide.

Cullity argues there are five reasons why climate change is a moral issue, each of which is independent of the others. The first is that it involves many causes of harm including extreme weather events, tropical diseases, and malnutrition.

“These harms are primarily borne by the most vulnerable members of the global community,” he says. “We should be morally concerned to reduce the amount of harm we do to them.”

The second argument holds if we believe there’s a risk of serious harm in the future but can't be sure it will come to pass. “Action that imposes serious risks on others can be morally wrong because it is negligent and reckless, independent of the harm that actually eventuates,” Cullity says.

These first two arguments give us moral duties of both “mitigation” (reducing the further damage our emissions are doing) and “adaptation” (helping vulnerable people to adapt to the damage already done).

“They apply not just to national governments, but to any agent whose actions contribute to increasing atmospheric greenhouse gas concentrations – including state and local governments, cities, corporations, non-government associations and individuals.

“And they apply to each of these agents unilaterally. The moral duty not to engage in actions that harm or endanger others is not a duty that we are exempted from when someone else is not complying with it.

“The strength of the duty is proportional to the harm or risk imposed if the duty is not followed, and it may be related also to the capacity to influence others to comply with their duty.”

The third argument concerns “contributional fairness”. When a group needs to achieve something important by acting together and is doing so by sharing the overall burden among its members, failure to contribute an equitable share of that burden amounts to free-riding. Duties of fair contribution apply to groups of any size.

In the case of a wealthy country such as Australia, the size of our contribution to the solution should reflect the size of our contribution to causing the problem, the benefit we have derived from past emissions-producing economic activity, and our relatively great “ability to pay”, as tax economists put it.

The remaining two moral arguments concern the responsibility of national governments. If you accept that they have a duty to protect future citizens, not just present ones, it follows that they must contribute to global mitigation, not just local adaptation. And, since the economic costs of responding to the problem get higher the longer you delay, they have a moral duty to begin now.

Conventional economics doesn’t take much interest in morality. But economies where everyone sticks out for Number One stop working very well. And self-interest isn’t enough to solve a “wicked” problem like climate change.

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Morrision's report: high marks so far, but now the hard part

There are more ways than one for Scott Morrison still to stuff up the virus crisis. And in seeking to avoid such a calamity he’d do well to remember a rule followed by all successful leaders: don’t believe your own bulldust.

It’s become increasingly clear that Morrison’s handling of the corona crisis has benefited greatly from his disastrous handling of the bushfires. Obviously, he resolved not to make the same mistakes twice – and he hasn’t.

He was too slow to appreciate the magnitude of the political, environmental and human consequences of the fires. And by the time he did, it was too late. But when the medicos gave him the classic Treasury advice to "go early, go hard", he took it.

When you’re dealing with "exponential" growth, starting a week or two earlier than you might have can make all the difference. And it has. Morrison’s entitled to be terribly proud of our success in suppressing the virus, which compares well against all the big advanced economies.

With the bushfires, Morrison was wrong to see them as primarily a state responsibility. What the constitution says and what voters think aren’t always aligned. A good rule for prime ministers is that any problem that affects more than one state is a problem the electorate will hold the feds responsible for. Which is fair enough when you remember it’s the feds who control the purse strings.

In our federation, most problems involve shared federal and state responsibilities. Health and education are key examples. In which case, Mr Moneybags should always take the lead. Morrison’s masterstroke solution in the case of the virus was the national cabinet – though I share the scepticism of the former premier who doubted that the unity would last once we’d all stopped singing Kumbaya.

Another reaction to the fires failure, I reckon, was Morrison’s decision to under-promise and over-deliver. This fitted with the epidemiologists who, having to predict the consequences of a new virus about whose characteristics they knew little, seem to have decided to err on the high side.

For his part, Morrison left us with the impression the lockdown would last six months, and didn’t discourage the econocrats from predicting that gross domestic product would fall by 10 per cent and the rate of unemployment would double to 10 per cent.

It now seems clear it won’t be as bad as that. We’ll learn this week whether the fall in employment in the four weeks to mid-May was anything like as bad as in the four weeks to mid-April. We may well have seen the worst of it – at least until the JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme winds up in late September.

But having to wait until mid-June to know where we were a month earlier is frustratingly slow in this uniquely fast-moving recession. The "weekly activity tracker" – based on high frequency data such as restaurant bookings, confidence, retail foot traffic, hotel bookings, credit card usage, etcetera – used by Dr Shane Oliver, of AMP Capital, suggests the economy hit bottom in mid-April and has now risen for eight weeks in a row.

The medicos hate it when I say this, but my guess is that suppressing the virus will prove to be the easy half of the problem. Getting the economy back to being anything like where it was in December is a much harder ask, demanding first-rate judgment from Morrison’s econocrat advisers and Morrison having the humility to take that advice and suppress his instinct to play political favourites.

This is where he must resist the temptation to believe his own political bulldust. Exhibit A: the claim that we entered the crisis from a "position of strength". This is the very opposite of the truth, which is why restoring the economy to healthy growth will be exceptionally hard. The key problem is six years of weak wage growth, which the recession is making even weaker.

Exhibit B: Morrison’s belief that, come the election in early 2022, voters won’t blame him for still-high unemployment and weak growth because they’ll remember with gratitude his sterling performance in averting their own deaths. If only.

Exhibit C: Morrison’s belief that supply-side economic reform aimed at raising the economy’s "potential" growth rate in the medium to longer term is an adequate substitute for demand-side budgetary stimulus in the short term.

That yet more tinkering with the tax system and the wage-fixing system is what will give us "business-led growth" out of recession. That’s not economics, it’s rent-seeking propaganda you mouth while swinging one for your big-business donors. Jobs and growth – yay!

Actually believe such tosh and you’re dead meat.

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First the economy needs CPR. We'll worry about reform later

I can’t take seriously all those people saying we mustn’t waste a crisis, but seize this great opportunity to introduce sweeping economic reform. It’s like telling a baby who hasn’t yet learnt to walk it should start training for the Olympics.

It’s true, of course, that we won’t get back to economic life as we used to know it – that is, knew it before the global financial crisis, more than a decade ago – until we get back to reasonably strong annual improvement in the productivity of labour.

But the plain fact is, you’ve got to have a functioning economy before you can worry about how fast its productivity is improving. So there’ll be a time to debate which policies would or wouldn't do most to enhance productivity, but we have more pressing matters to attend to.

Some in the don’t-waste-the-crisis party can be forgiven because they’re under 50 and have no memory of what happens in recessions. But as my colleague Shane Wright has said, most of them are "the usual suspects, falling back on their usual agendas".

They have no genuine concern about the economy’s present life-threatened state, but are business people engaged in rent-seeking, or economists running off faith in their economic model, whether or not it’s supported by empirical evidence their theory actually works.

These urgers have forgotten that micro-economic reform seeks to increase economic growth by making the supply (production) side of the economy work more efficiently. It delivers results only over the medium to long term. It’s thus no substitute for macro-economic management, which deals with managing the demand side of the economy in the short term.

Right now, the prospect of a 10 per cent unemployment rate tells us we have more supply than we’re able to use. Clearly, our problem’s that demand is insufficient. The improvement in economic efficiency we assume we could gain by, say, taxing land rather than the transfer of it, is minor compared with the monumental inefficiency we know for certain is occurring because 10 per cent of our workers can’t find work. Macro inefficiency always trumps micro inefficiency.

Right now, we don’t even have an economy that’s functioning, much less functioning well. Much of it’s closed - locked up by government decree. We’re starting to ease the lockdown, but we won’t be opening our borders for another year or two.

When we do have most of the lockdown removed, what will we see? The economy won’t snap back. Not even bounce back in any significant way. True, once businesses are allowed to reopen they’ll be making some sales rather than next to none. But with so many households unemployed, sales won’t go back to anything like where they were.

Most households and businesses will be in cost-cutting mode. Firms have been incurring overheads while earning little. Even those households still working will be worried about their big mortgages and fearful of losing their own jobs. As Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy has warned, “some jobs and businesses will have been lost permanently”.

Most firms and households will be getting back to some semblance of normality, but few will be doing much that causes the economy to grow in any positive sense. As Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe has said, firms and households are suffering from a "high level of uncertainty about the future" and will engage in "precautionary behaviour". They’ll be saving not spending.

Sound like a bounce-back, or an economy still in the intensive care unit? Ask yourself this: which are the forces that will propel the economy forward? It won’t be the main factor we’ve relied on in recent years – high immigration. Our population’s now falling, as people on temporary visas are sent home and not replaced. (Not that population growth does anything much to lift income per person.)

It won’t be “external stimulus” because the rest of the world is growing faster than us (it isn’t), or a lower dollar is making our exports cheaper to foreigners because we’ll continue banning foreign tourists and overseas students. Export commodity prices aren’t rising.

It won’t be growth in real wages (employers will compulsively demand a wage freeze) nor a "wealth effect" from rising house prices prompting households to cut their rate of saving. And a key missing piece: it won’t be big cuts in interest rates to encourage borrowing and spending.

That leaves only "fiscal stimulus" – the budget. The huge government spending so far has merely limited the extent of the economy’s fall. Should Scott Morrison soon start winding it back as he says he plans to, we could fall even further.

No, if we're to actually recover what will come next is a lot more government spending, particularly on useful projects. It can only be a government-led recovery.

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Phone users have a reason to cheer ACCC's black eye

How much do you pay for your mobile phone contract – a lot or a little? Do you wish there was more price competition in a market dominated by three big companies, Telstra, Optus and Vodafone?

The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission has been stymied in its efforts to make that possibility more likely.

Last year the competition commission blocked a plan for Vodafone (one of the world’s biggest mobile phone companies) to "merge" with TPG (a mainly fixed-line phone and internet service provider) on the grounds that it could substantially lessen competition in the mobiles market.

Earlier this month the Federal Court overturned the commission’s ruling and allowed the merger to proceed – to much cheering from big business, which loves seeing the interfering competition regulator get a poke in the eye.

But phone users have nothing to cheer about. A chance to get more effective competition in the mobile phone market has been lost. Any threat of disruption to the comfortable life of the three-firm oligopoly – which already controls almost 90 per cent of the market – has been removed.

The competition commission thought the merger would do little to increase competition in the mobiles market, whereas allowing the smallest of the big-three oligopolists to take out the one outsider that could have threatened their cosy oligopoly – TPG – made it unlikely their cosy arrangement would ever be disrupted.

It thought this because, under the leadership of its swashbuckling chairman, David Teoh, TPG had turned itself into a company big enough to challenge Telstra and Optus in the internet provider market by acquiring various smaller providers and offering more competitive prices. And it had already spent $1.26 billion preparing to build a mobile network, before the government refused to let it partner with the Chinese-owned leader in 5G technology, Huawei.

Were the merger to be prevented, the commission believed, there was a good chance that TPG, with its record as a disrupter of markets, would revert to its plan to break into the mobile market, and do so by undercutting the incumbents’ prices.

The court rejected the competition regulator’s argument, primarily because it accepted Teoh’s assurance that he’d abandoned his plan to break into the mobiles market and wouldn’t return to it.

The court ruled that “it is not necessarily the number of competitors that are in the relevant market, but the quality of the competition that must be assessed. Further, it is not for the ACCC or this court to engineer a competitive outcome”.

Sorry, your honour, not sure what you mean. It’s certainly true that assessing the competitiveness of an oligopolistic market is more complicated than counting the number of dominant firms. The complexity comes in assessing the nature of the competition.

But what does it mean to “engineer” a competitive outcome? If it means the competition regulator and the court can’t do anything that would increase the likelihood of an industry being disrupted by a new and aggressive entrant, it’s telling us the law is biased in favour of maintaining the status quo and thus protecting the comfortable lives of the incumbents.

Does it mean the only views the authorities may hold about how the future may unfold for the industry must come from what the companies seeking permission to merge say about their intentions, not from the evidence economists have gathered about how oligopolists seek to compete in ways that maximise their profits and limit the benefit to their customers?

One of the main ways the rich countries have become rich is by firms’ continuous pursuit of economies of scale. The inevitable consequence, however, is that most of our markets have become dominated by a small number of huge firms with considerable power to influence the prices charged – especially if they reach an unspoken agreement to avoid competing on price.

The big question for public policy is how to ensure the gains from scale economies flow through to customers in lower prices and better service, rather than being retained as “super profit” in excess of the “normal profit” needed to cover the firm’s cost of capital and the risks it’s run. This is why economists have built up a great body of empirical knowledge about how oligopolists behave.

The court found that increasing the number of big players in the mobiles market from three to four (should the merger be blocked and TPG resume its plan to enter the market) would do little to increase competition, whereas allowing Vodafone to buy out the potential entrant and so become closer in size to its two rivals would improve competition.

Sorry, both conclusions run contrary to what the empirical evidence tells us was likely to happen. Remember, the chief tactic the world's digital megafirms have used to protect their pricing power is buying out small outfits looking like they could become a disrupter.

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They should make benefiting you the goal of economics

I was reading yet more about the troubles besetting the rich economies when it struck me: we’d do a lot better if our politicians and their advisers just managed the economy in ways that gave first priority to benefiting the ordinary people who constitute it.

The bleeding obvious, you say? Well, of late, not so you’d notice. Just what we’ve always been doing, the pollies and economists say? Again, not so you’d notice. Too simple? Not if you do it right.

Economics is the study of “the daily business of life” – going to work to earn money, then spending that money. If so, the economy is nothing more than all those who work (paid or unpaid) and consume, which is all of us.

The fact that we are the economy means it’s actually our economy. So all the other players – politicians, economists, even business people – are there to serve our interests. Rather than becoming alienated from the process, we should be holding them to account.

During the past 30 or 40 years of what it’s now fashionable to call neo-liberalism, we were acting on the theory that the best way to benefit all Australians was to reduce the role of government in the daily business of life and give freer rein to businesses.

This indirect approach didn’t work well. We gave our bankers and business people greater freedom from government regulation, but they abused our trust. The lenience of regulators has seen business become remarkably lawless. Too much of the extra income the economy has generated has gone to the very highest income-earners, leaving too little going to middle and lower income-earners.

This era of “economic rationalism” and “microeconomic reform” has ended, leaving Scott Morrison with much damage to clean up. Meanwhile, many voters are disillusioned and distrustful of both main parties, and are turning elsewhere to populists such as Pauline Hanson, who not only have no answers to the problems that bother us, but also seek our support by blaming our troubles on unpopular scapegoats – Muslims, city-slickers etc.

The economic rationalists’ solution to misbehaving businesses, caveat emptor – let the buyer beware – is good advice but, in the modern complex world, it’s impractical. There aren’t enough leisure hours in the day for us to spend most of them checking that all the businesses we deal with aren’t overcharging us or taking advantage of us in some way, and our employer isn’t underpaying us.

So why don’t governments cut to the chase and simply make treating us in such ways illegal? And when doing so is already illegal – as it usually is – why don’t they resume adequately policing those laws?

Something almost everyone craves in their lives, but politicians and economists long ago lost sight of, is a high degree of security. We want the security of owning our own homes and we want security in our employment.

And yet we’ve allowed home ownership to become unaffordable to an increasing proportion of young people. Why? Because we’ve put the interests of existing home owners ahead of would-be home owners. We could fix the unaffordability problem if we were prepared to put the interests of the young ahead of the old.

Some degree of flexibility in the job market is a good thing provided it works both ways. Under economic rationalism, the goal was more flexibility for employers without any concern about what this did to the lives of casual workers mucked about by selfish and capricious employers.

It’s good that part-time jobs are now available for those who want one – students, parents of young children, the semi-retired – but we could do more to make part-time jobs permanent rather than casual.

Many young people worry that we’re moving to a “gig economy” in which most jobs are non-jobs: short-lived, for only a few hours a week and badly paid, with few if any benefits.

I don’t believe we are moving to such a dystopia, mainly because I doubt it would suit most employers’ interests to treat most of their employees so shabbily. But, in any case, the way to avoid such a world is obvious: governments should make it illegal to employ people on such an unacceptable basis.

And governments will do that as soon as it’s the case that not to do so would cost them too many votes. That is, we have to make democracy work for the masses, not just the rich and powerful.

Of course, the security many of us would like is to live in a world where nothing changes. Sorry, not possible. Economies, and the mix of industries within them, have always changed and always will – often for reasons that, though they disrupt the lives of some people, end up making most of us better off.

New technologies are a major source of disruptive, but usually beneficial, change. Another source of disruptive change is the realisation that certain activities are bad for our health (smoking, for instance) or for the natural environment (excessive irrigation and land clearing, burning fossil fuels) and must be curtailed.

Adversely affected interest groups will always tempt governments to try to resist such change – at the ultimate expense of the rest of us. The right answer usually is for change to go ahead, but for governments to help the adversely affected adjust. Just what we haven’t been doing.

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Lack of trust may have made economic reform impossible

Life’s getting a lot tougher for optimists. I’m starting to wonder whether our politics has passed the point of peak economic reform and controversial policy changes are no longer possible.

We keep berating our politicians, urging them to show leadership and have the courage to make much-needed reforms, but they never do. Right now, it’s easy to look at the way Scott Morrison has fumbled the bushfire response, the need to get real about climate change, and even his reluctance to take a stand against blatant rorting of taxpayers’ money, and decide we have a Morrison problem.

But though we’re discovering the miracle election-winner’s various shortcomings, it’s a mistake to think one man is the cause of our reform problem. It’s possible to argue things have got steadily worse in the revolving-door period since the departure of John Howard, but the greater truth is that the problem’s systemic.

It’s hard to think of any major improvements made by five prime ministers over the past 12 years, with the possible exception of the National Disability Insurance Scheme (which we’re still busy stuffing up).

The carbon tax was a significant reform before Tony Abbott abolished it, but Labor had sabotaged its mining tax long before Abbott got to it. Malcolm Turnbull took one look at the great goal of increasing the goods and services tax and realised it was politically impossible without full compensation of low to middle income-earners, but net of compensation it would have raised peanuts.

All this is just the Australian version of similar stories that could be told in most of the other rich democracies. But, sticking with our story, why has it become next to impossible for our governments to make controversial policy changes?

The pollies would tell you it’s because the 24-hour news cycle – the media are constantly demanding to be fed, and will turn to you opponents if you don’t oblige – and the power of social media to set hares running that have to be chased. This now gets so much attention from ministers and their staff they have little time left to get on with policy development.

Maybe. A less convenient explanation is the way politics has turned into a lifelong career – from staffer to minister to a late-career job advising big business – leading pollies to worry more about their careers and less about the ideals they espoused in their first speech on entering Parliament.

But however you explain it, there’s little doubt that the life of ministers has become pretty much all day-to-day tactics and no long-term strategy. This both explains and reinforces the long-established trend – which Morrison now freely acknowledges – for ministers to prefer the advice of the ambitious young punks in their office to the advice of their department.

The staffers know about what matters – political tactics – whereas the bureaucrats want to keep banging on about policy and warning you about looming problems. Worse, they’re obsessed by the notion that whatever governments do must be strictly in accordance with the law.

Partly because fixing problems usually costs money, the era of Smaller Government and the politically motivated obsession with returning the budget to surplus has heightened the politicians’ normal temptation to pigeonhole government reports warning about problems that need to be fixed now before they get much worse.

A bunch of former fire chiefs want a meeting to warn about how much worse this year’s bushfire season will be and the need for much more equipment and action to limit climate change? Sorry, too busy with more pressing matters.

Even the idea that politicians should “never waste a crisis” – that you won’t get broad support for unpopular measures until everyone’s up in arms about the actual arrival of the problem – and its corollary – don’t act on the multitude of mere warnings of problems ahead, wait and see which of them actually transpire – seem themselves to have been pigeonholed.

Why are politicians no longer game even to seize the moment to do something real when everyone’s demanding that something be done? Because years of declining standards of political behaviour mean that trust in political leaders is now lower than ever. There’s strong survey evidence of this.

Neither side of politics is trusted to take tough measures that are genuinely in everyone’s interests. It’s got to be a trick. Mainstream politicians are trusted only when they run scare campaigns against the other side’s reform plans. But hope springs eternal that some populist rabblerouser may have the answers.

The more impotent mainstream politicians are seen to be, the more disillusioned voters will turn to populist saviours – and the more the main parties will themselves turn to populist diversions and trickery. Freeing ourselves from this vicious circle won’t be easy.

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Populist revolt around the world making economists rethink

It’s often said that the failure of conventional economics revealed by the global financial crisis has prompted no serious effort to find a new economic theory that actually works. Look closer, however, and you see economists stirring themselves to lift their game.

That’s the view of a noted American economist and critic of his profession, Professor Dani Rodrik, of Harvard, in an article published this week by Project Syndicate.

Rodrik says the populist backlash sweeping the advanced economies in recent years – think Trump, Brexit and Pauline Hanson – has produced some soul searching in the discipline. It is, after all, a backlash against the austerity policies, free-trade deals, financial deregulation and labour market deregulation that economists urged on the politicians (and only in retrospect realised how naive they’d been and how misused by pollies with other agendas).

In consequence of this rethink, “the economics profession is gradually changing for the better”, according to Rodrik. But the transformation extends beyond thinking about economic policy.

Within the discipline there’s finally a reckoning with the hierarchical practices (reverence for seniority and high-status universities) and the macho seminar culture (where anyone who says something silly or unorthodox is brutally shot down) that have produced an inhospitable environment for women and minorities.

According to a survey of its members conducted last year by the American Economic Association, nearly half of female economists felt discriminated against or treated unfairly on account of their gender. Nearly a third of non-white economists felt they’d been treated unfairly because of their ethnicity.

Rodrik, an Egyptian American, thinks the bad policy advice and the inhospitality towards anyone not an old white male may be related. “A profession that is less diverse and less open to different identities is more likely to exhibit groupthink and hubris,” he says.

“If it is to generate ideas to help society achieve inclusive prosperity [and so not push outsiders into the arms of populist politicians with no real answers to the problems being reacted against] it will have to start by becoming more inclusive itself.”

The new face of the discipline was on display at its annual meeting in San Diego early this month. The sessions that attracted the greatest attention were the more than a dozen focusing on gender and diversity.

Also discussed was a new book by the Nobel laureate Angus Deaton and Anne Case, Deaths of Despair. Their research shows how a particular set of economic ideas privileging the supposed “free market”, along with an obsession with material indicators such as aggregate productivity and gross domestic product, have fuelled an epidemic of suicide, drug overdose and alcoholism among America’s (often jobless) working class.

Capitalism is no longer delivering for these people (many of whom switched their votes to get Trump over the line) and economics is, at the very least, complicit, Rodrik observes.

In a panel session at the annual meeting that Rodrik helped organise, Economics for Inclusive Prosperity (note that buzzword inclusive), several new strands of thinking were discussed that are, he claims, “taking over the discipline”.

One was the need to expand economists’ focus from average levels of prosperity (which often look okay) to the distribution of that increased income between top, middle and bottom (which often doesn’t).

Another strand of thought was the non-economic dimensions that are equally fundamental to wellbeing – such as dignity, autonomy, health and political rights – damage to which economists have tended to ignore.

“How economists talk about, say, trade agreements or deregulation may well change when they take such additional considerations seriously,” he says.

“This will require new economic indicators. One proposal that goes part of the way is for government agencies to produce distributional national accounts [something our Australian Bureau of Statistics has been working on].”

Mainstream economists have long claimed their theories and models to be “value-free”. This is self-delusion on a grand scale. In a paper presented to the panel session by Professor Samuel Bowles, of the Santa Fe Institute, and Professor Wendy Carlin, of University College, London, they boldly stated the bleeding obvious.

They argued that every policy paradigm has embedded within it not just a theory about how the economy works, but also a set of ethical values about what the good life entails. Neo-liberalism, for instance, presumes individualistic, amoral individuals and a free market that delivers efficiency, thanks to “complete contracts” (those that leave the other party no room to cheat you, but such contracts don’t exist) and few instances of “market failure” (where, for various reasons, the market fails to work the way the theory says it will).

Clearly, such assumptions go a long way towards explaining why economists failed to foresee that deregulation of the financial system and permissive supervision of it would lead eventually to collapse and deep recession.

Bowles and Carlin said what we needed was a new theory that integrates egalitarian, democratic and sustainability “norms” of acceptable behaviour (the ethical side) with a model of the economy as is really operates today (that is, which would incorporate the insights of behavioural economics).

Such a paradigm would place the community alongside the economists’ conventional dichotomy between the market and the government. And it would include policies such as wealth taxes, broader access to insurance to reduce people’s exposure to risks, workplace rights, reform of corporate governance (none of the convenient fiction that shareholders’ rights trump all others), and a substantial weakening of intellectual property rights (which have devolved from a device to encourage innovation to a prime source of big business rent-seeking).

Professor Luigi Zingales, of Chicago University’s business school, criticised economists for foisting their own preferences on the public. They tended to place greater value on certain outcomes (such as economic efficiency) rather than others (such as the distribution of income) and they fall prey to groupthink and to fetishising particular economic models over others.

I can’t say I’m convinced a revolution in economists’ thinking is imminent, but it’s a start.

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Is Morrison the man who killed the Aussie summer?

This is the summer from hell. I can’t imagine anyone is enjoying their break – not with the quadruple whammy of drought, heatwaves, bushfires and smoke haze we’re experiencing. If it happens again next summer – or the one after – as it very well could, can you imagine the political doghouse Scott Morrison and his Coalition parties will be in?

Morrison is already bearing most of the ire of people displaced by the fires. So much so that he’s learned not to show up to offer his commiserations. But is it really his fault? No. Just one of the six prime ministers we’ve had over the past two decades can hardly take all the blame.

In any case, Morrison is right to protest that nothing Australia could have done by itself could have stopped the deterioration in climate we’re seeing. The only solution is global, so all the big, rich economies – particularly the Americans, less so the Europeans – must share the blame for the continuing rise in average temperatures.

And even the biggest developing economies – China and India, particularly – could have done more to reduce the intensity of their emissions (emissions per dollar of GDP) without abandoning their efforts to raise their living standards to some higher fraction of those we have long enjoyed.

But Morrison doesn’t escape the responsibility of leadership as easily as that. For one thing, it’s his side of politics that’s done most to sabotage the limited and belated efforts Australia has made, since the defeat of the Howard government, to contribute to the global effort to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

And you have to go back to John Howard’s refusal to ratify the Kyoto agreement of 1997 to find an instance of Australia actively disrupting efforts to reach international agreement on stronger action, to match the shamefully destructive contribution Angus Taylor made at the conference in Madrid last month by insisting that Australia be allowed to use an accounting trick to shirk its responsibilities.

For any Australian leader to claim, hand-on-heart, to have done all they reasonably could to reduce global warming, they have to be able to say they committed us to a disproportionate reduction in our emissions, so as to have the moral authority to press the bigger players to do more. None of our leaders can say that, least of all Howard and Morrison.

And then there’s the law of politics that says if it's fair enough for the government of the day to claim the credit when things go well – even when the seeds of that success were sown by an earlier administration – it’s equally fair for the government of the day to cop the blame when the neglect of earlier administrations finally hits the fan, as it has this summer.

Not Morrison nor any of his predecessors can honestly claim to have been caught unawares by what’s happening before our eyes and noses. The CSIRO has been warning for at least a decade of just this concurrence of adverse and costly events – in lives and health, as well as property – as the planet warms.

At last year’s election, the climate change deniers demanded to be told the economic cost of stepping up our contribution to reducing global warming. The more sensible among us should have been demanding to be told the economic cost of allowing global warming to roll on. We’re finding that out as we speak, but doing so the hard way.

It’s tempting to wonder whether, in his heart of hearts, Morrison is himself a climate-change denier. But that hardly matters. These days, what politicians truly believe doesn’t have much bearing on what they do and say. Conviction politics is dead. These days, politicians seek out the position that, while sitting easily with their heartland supporters, is likely to give them the greatest short-term advantage over their political opponents.

Whatever he believes, Morrison is too cagey to come out as a denier. Like Malcolm Turnbull before him, he’s bound hand-and-foot by the deniers in his own party and the Nationals. So, until now, his safest position has been to say he accepts the science, while falsely claiming to be comfortably on target to reach the (inadequate) emissions reduction we committed to in the Paris agreement.

There are two approaches to the “wicked” problem of global warming: mitigation (reducing emissions) and adaptation (changing in response to whatever warming we get). The greenies have seen these as in conflict and frowned on efforts to adapt. But Morrison and his predecessors have been so bound up by their deniers that they haven’t wanted to talk about even such issues as getting set to cope with much worse bushfire seasons. No excuses for that, Scott.

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Confessions of a pet shop galah: much reform was stuffed up

As someone who, back in the day, did his share of being one of Paul Keating’s pet shop galahs – screeching "more micro reform!" every time they saw a pollie – I don’t cease to be embarrassed by the many supposed reforms that turned into stuff-ups.

My defence is that at least I’ve learnt from those mistakes. One thing I’ve learnt is that too many economists are heavily into confirmation bias – they memorise all the happenings that affirm the wisdom of their theory, but quickly cast from their minds the events that cast doubt on that wisdom.

Well, let me remind them of a few things they’d prefer to forget.

Of course, it’s not the case that everything done in the name of "micro-economic reform" was wrong-headed. The floating of the dollar was an unavoidable recognition that the era of fixed exchange rates was over. And the dollar’s ups and downs have almost always helped to stabilise the economy.

The old regulated banking system wasn’t working well and had to be junked. With the rise of China in a globalising world, persisting with a highly protected manufacturing sector would have been a recipe for getting poorer. Nor could we have persisted with a centralised wage-fixing system or a tax system that failed to tax capital gains, fringe benefits and services – to name just a few worthwhile reforms.

Many privatisations were justified – the government-owned banks, insurance companies and airlines – but the sale of geographic monopolies (ports and airports) and natural monopolies (electricity and telephone networks) was a step backwards, mainly because governments couldn’t resist the temptation to maximise the sale price by preserving the businesses’ pricing power at the expense of consumers.

The conversion of five state monopolies into the national electricity market proved a monumental stuff-up at all three levels: generation, transmission and retail. It quickly devolved into an oligopoly with three big vertically integrated firms happily overcharging consumers at every level, with collateral damage to the use of carbon pricing in reducing greenhouse gas emissions.

We’ve learnt that “markets” artificially created by governments and managed by bureaucrats are – you wouldn’t guess – hugely bureaucratic, with the managers susceptible to “capture” by market players. The gas market has also been an enormous stuff-up, threatening the survival of what remains of Australian manufacturing.

The ill-considered attempt to treat schools and TAFEs and universities as being in some kind of market, where fostering competition between them and paying teachers performance bonuses would spur them to lift their performance, proved an utter dud.

Had the harebrained plan to deregulate uni fees not been stopped, it would have made even worse the chronic disorientation of the nation’s vice chancellors on what universities are meant to do and why they’re doing it. Lesson: trying to turn non-market parts of society into markets, while blithely ignoring all the obvious reasons such "markets" would fail, is a fool’s errand.

Which brings us to the half-baked idea of trying improve the provision of taxpayer-funded services by making their delivery “contestable” by for-profit providers. It's been an expensive failure pretty much everywhere it’s been tried: childcare, employment services, vocational education and training, and aged care (see present royal commission), not to mention privately run prisons and offshore detention centres. How long will it be before we’re having a royal commission into the abuses of the largely outsourced national disability insurance scheme?

Why have so many reform programs ended so badly? Partly because of the naivety of econocrats and other proponents of "economic rationalism". They had no notion of how far the grossly oversimplified neo-classical model of markets they carry in their heads misrepresented the big bad real world.

And many of them, having spent their working lives solely in the public sector, had no idea of how wasteful or bureaucratic the supposedly rational private sector could be. Actually break the law if they thought they wouldn’t get caught because corporate law-breaking wasn’t being policed? Sure. Rip off the government because the bureaucrats wouldn’t notice? Love to.

But there’s another reason so many reforms blew up. Because naive econocrats failed to foresee the way reforms intended to leave consumers or taxpayers better off could be hijacked by Finance Department accountants looking to cut government spending and produce "smaller government" by whatever expediency possible (see uni fee deregulation) and politicians looking to win the approval of big business or to move money and influence from the public sector column (them) to the private sector column (us).

Lesson: if a venal politician can find a way to sabotage micro-economic reform to their own advantage, they will.

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Weak wages the symptom of our stagnant economy, but why?

If you don’t like the term "secular stagnation" you can follow former Bank of England governor Mervyn King and say that, since the Great Recession of 2008-09, we’ve entered the Great Stagnation and are "stuck in a low-growth trap".

On Friday we saw the latest instalment of our politicians’ and econocrats’ reluctant admission that we’re in the same boat as the other becalmed advanced economies, with publication of the Reserve Bank’s latest downward revisions of its forecasts for economic growth.

This time last year, the Reserve was expecting real growth in gross domestic product of a ripping 3.25 per cent over the present financial year. Now it’s expecting 2.25 per cent. Even that may prove on the high side.

What their eternal optimism implies is our authorities’ belief that the economy’s weakness is largely "cyclical" – temporary. What the past eight years of downward revisions imply, however, is that the problem is mainly "structural" or, as they used to say a century ago, "secular" – long-lasting.

If the weakness is structural, waiting a bit longer won’t see the problem go away. The world’s economists will need to do a lot more researching and thinking to determine the main causes of the change in the structure of the economy and the way it works, and what we should be doing about it.

Apart from dividing problems between cyclical and structural, economists analyse them by viewing them from the perspective of demand and then the perspective of supply.

Obviously, what you’d like is demand and supply pretty much in balance, meaning low inflation and unemployment, with economies growing at a good pace and lifting our material standard of living. In practice, however, it’s not that simple and demand and supply don’t always align the way we’d like.

For about the first 30 years after World War II, the dominant view among economists was that the big problem was keeping demand strong enough to take up the economy’s ever-growing potential supply – its capacity to produce goods and services – and keep workers and factories in "full employment". Keynesian economics was developed to use the budget ("fiscal policy") to ensure demand was always up to the mark.

From about the mid-1970s, however, the advanced economies developed a big problem with inflation. After years of uncertainty and debate, the dominant view emerged that the main problem wasn’t "deficient" demand, it was excessive demand, always threatening to run ahead of the economy’s capacity to produce and thus cause inflation.

The answer was to get supply – potential production – growing faster. Most economists abandoned Keynesian economics and reverted to the former, "neo-classical" macro-economics, in which the central contention was that, over the medium-term, the rate at which an economy grew was determined on the supply side, by the three key determinants of production capacity, "the three Ps" – population, participation (by people in the labour force), and productivity – the rate at which investment in more and better machines and structures allowed workers to produce more per hour than they did before.

If so, the managers of the macro economy could do nothing to change the rate at which the economy grew over the medium term. Their role was simply to ensure that, in the short term, demand neither grew faster than the growth in the economy’s production potential (thus casing inflation) nor slower than potential (thus causing unemployment).

And the best instrument to use to achieve this balancing act was, as Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy explained recently, monetary policy (moving interest rates up and down).

Everyone agrees that the problem with the advanced economies at present – including ours – is weak demand. The question is whether that weakness is mainly cyclical or mainly structural. If it's cyclical, all we have to do is be patient, and the old conventional wisdom - that, fundamentally, growth is supply-determined - doesn’t need changing.

But the conclusion that fits our circumstances better is that the demand problem has structural causes. Consider this: we’ve had plenty of episodes of weak demand in the past, but never has demand been so weak that inflation is negligible. Nominal interest rates are way down in consequence, but even real global interest rates have been falling since even before the financial crisis.

That’s why monetary policy has almost done its dash. It doesn’t do well at a time of negligible inflation, and fiscal policy is back to being the more effective instrument. But if the demand problem is mainly structural, then a burst of stimulus from the budget may help a bit, but won’t get to the heart of the problem.

As former top econocrat Dr Mike Keating has argued consistently, weak growth in real wages seems the main cause of weak growth in consumer spending and, hence, business investment, productivity improvement and overall growth – both in Australia and the other advanced economies.

Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe would agree. But he tends to see the wage problem as mainly cyclical: wait until we get more growth in employment, then the labour market will tighten, skill shortages will emerge and real wages will be pushed up.

Other economists stick to the supply-side, neo-classical approach: if real wages aren’t growing fast enough it can only be because the productivity of labour isn’t improving fast enough, so the answer is more micro-economic reform. Not a big help, guys.

The unions say the root cause is that deregulation has robbed organised labour of its bargaining power – and there may be something in that. But Keating’s argument has been that skill-biased technological change has hollowed out the semi-skilled middle of the workforce, with wage increases going disproportionately to the high-skilled, who save more of their income than lower-paid workers.

So Keating wants any budget stimulus to be directed towards the lower-paid, and a lot more spending on all levels of education and training, to help workers adopt and adapt to the digital workplace.

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Insincere, misguided displays of concern make the drought worse

Sometimes I think our politics has got into a vicious circle: the worse our politicians behave, the more of us give up and tune out. But the less we monitor their behaviour, the worse and more lackadaisical the politicians become.

Take the drought. Good politicians would see it as a recurring problem and try to find substantive ways of helping farmers cope with droughts in general; weak politicians settle for giving the impression of being very busy caring and helping – especially when the TV cameras are rolling – while they kick the problem down a country track.

Scott Morrison and his ministers keep announcing (or re-announcing) new measures to help, but the experts – including the National Farmers' Federation - keep lamenting that we don’t have a National Drought Policy and haven’t had one for years. We just keep knee-jerking and ad hocking every time another drought comes along.

So what would a decent national drought policy look like? It would start by reverting to an understanding the Hawke-Keating government established years ago, but has since been blurred: droughts aren’t a “natural disaster” in the way floods, cyclones and bushfires are. For a start, those others are sudden and short-lived, whereas droughts develop gradually, spread over huge areas and can last for years.

As Dorothea Mackellar realised more than a century ago, if you want to be an Australian, regular droughts are part of the deal. Always have been but, thanks to the two C-words we’re not supposed to say, are now likely to become more severe and more frequent. The day may come when not being in drought is the exception.

According to former top econocrat Dr Mike Keating, “the possibility of recurring droughts must therefore be planned for and not just treated as bad luck, for which farmers themselves bear no responsibility”.

The national drought policy of 1992 required farmers to be more self-reliant and absorb the impact of droughts as something to be expected. Many, many farmers have long been doing just that. Some haven’t bothered and they’re the ones getting most care and concern from fly-by-night journalists and politicians.

Everyone wants to “help those poor farmers”, but how should governments do it? John Freebairn, an economics professor at the University of Melbourne, says you can divide government drought support into three categories: subsidies for farm businesses, income supplements for low-income farm families, and support for better decision-making.

His message is that the main thing we should be doing is supporting programs to help farmers better manage the risk of drought and make their farms sustainable. Such support needs to come mainly between droughts – precisely when media and political interest in the topic evaporates.

Although income supplements for drought-stricken farmers raise questions about why they should get help other small-business people don’t, they’re a much more effective way of alleviating poverty than subsidising farmers’ loans, freight and fodder – which is just what federal and state politicians (and volunteer organisations) have been heaping on this time as the ad hockery has mounted.

As Professor Bruce Chapman, of the Australian National University, said this week, “the politics of drought is not only about helping farmers, [it’s] about showing the world – including city dwellers – that the government cares. It does that by giving money away and having lots of announcements.”

But here’s the less-obvious truth recognised by a considered drought policy: the too-ready availability of drought assistance helps create droughts.

How? By reducing “the risks associated with a bad year, and thus encouraging over-cropping and over-grazing. If farmers know that their mistakes will be bailed out, then they have an additional incentive to maintain their herds even when the risk of not having enough feed is quite high. They anticipate that the taxpayer will bail them out if it doesn’t rain, and that they will be able to buy in the additional (subsidised) fodder when they might need it,” Keating says.

Now get this: according to Lin Crase, an economics professor at the University of South Australia, “there is mounting evidence that farm businesses can actually benefit from drought in the longer term. This seems to occur because businesses that go through a drought develop coping strategies that, when invoked in good years, produce much greater profits.”

This doesn’t mean droughts are a good thing, of course, but it does mean that shielding farm businesses from drought runs the risk that they won’t adapt, Crase says. Changing climate suggests that a lot more adaptation – including bigger, more mechanised farms and many more farmers leaving the land – lies ahead.

Sensible drought policy long ago recognised that more dams don’t help, which is why so few have been built in recent decades. That politicians are popping up with plans for new dams is another sign they’re making it up as they go.

John Kerin, a minister for primary industry in the Hawke government, says that while you can fill new dams when you’ve eventually built them, “you can’t keep them full waiting for a drought, or empty waiting for a flood”. Increased stored water will be used to increase irrigation. And increased irrigation in a time of climate change means greater shortages of water in the next drought.

The expertise to respond to drought more sensibly is there. It’s just that our politicians find it easier pretending to fix the problem.

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We’re relying on a government that spurns economic advice

I’m starting to wonder if the trouble with our politicians is that they’ve evolved to do politics but not economics, making them unfit to cope with the economic threats we now face.

On the one hand, they’ve been able to leave the management of the economy to the independent Reserve Bank, whose tinkering with interest rates – up a bit, down a bit – has successfully kept the economy growing for 28 years.

On the other hand, the pollies have been locked in a decade of unprecedented political instability where, since the demise of the Howard government in 2007, no prime minister has been safe from attack – from their own side.

In such an environment, with monetary policy (interest rates) so successfully managing the economy, the budget ceases to be “fiscal policy” and becomes just an instrument of politics.

Because you’re eternally looking over your shoulder trying to spot the next colleague holding a dagger behind his back, you use the budget primarily to shore up your support within the party, rewarding the base and punishing its designated enemies.

Be slavish in feeding the 24-hour news cycle. Keep up the pressure for ministers and their departments to provide a continuous flow of minor “announceables”. Remember, any vacuum you leave will be filled by your enemies (external or internal). If you run out announceables, just slag off your (official) opponents.

Of course, if the punters understood what you were up to, they wouldn’t be impressed. So when you’re trying to shore up the support of big business by cutting the rate of company tax, you keep claiming it’s a “plan for jobs and growth”.

When you’re using an income tax tax cut to buy some popularity at the election, you pretend that economic growth is driven by lower taxes.

The worst of it is, since the things your side really cares about – cutting taxes, preserving tax breaks favouring high income-earners, cracking down on the leaners and loafers on social welfare – are economic measures, you convince yourself you’re really into economics.

And running a budget surplus – that’s economic isn’t it? (No, not when your forecasts of a strong economy have proved way too optimistic and you’re counting on a freak improvement in iron ore prices to get you over the line. Then, it becomes an indulgent stretch for political kudos.)

You don’t actually know enough economics to realise economics is about rolling back rent-seeking and increasing the efficiency with which resources are allocated, at the micro level, and managing the economy through the ups and downs of the business cycle, at the macro level. All the rest is politics.

We’ve come to expect that if the person taking the treasurer’s job doesn’t know much about economics, Treasury will give them a crash course and get ’em up to speed. But former senior Treasury officer Paul Tilley’s new book, Changing Fortunes, leads me to think this no longer happens.

These days, treasurers are so preoccupied by the daily battle for political survival they have little time or interest in economics tutorials. Treasury has got out of the habit of giving the treasurer any advice his staff doubts he’d want to hear. Treasury’s job is largely to supply facts and figures when demanded by the treasurer’s staff.

In which case, you have to worry about how much professional rigour goes into producing the budget forecasts. How much they’re designed to avoid giving the treasurer news he doesn’t want to hear.

The Reserve Bank’s latest forecasts for wage growth are laughing at the optimistic forecasts of the budget in April. Where the budget has wages growing by 3.25 per cent a year by June 2021, the Reserve has the growth rate rising only a fraction to 2.4 per cent.

But here’s the surprising thing. Despite the central importance of wages in driving consumer spending and overall economic growth, the Reserve’s year-average forecasts for real GDP differ little from those in the budget.

I find this suspicious. And worrying. If the central bank feels constrained by the forecasts of a Treasury anxious to avoid displeasing its political masters, we’ve got a problem.

Last week, while worries about how much damage Trump’s trade war might do to the world economy were causing share markets to plunge, Treasurer Josh Frydenberg – who was 20 at the time of our last big recession – emerged from his bunker to assure us the government would “take the necessary actions to ensure our economy continues to grow”.

Great. But who’ll be advising him on which actions are necessary? The young punks in his office?

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How politics came to trump economics in Canberra

How does the federal government really work? Is it as we were told in Yes, Minister, with the bureaucrats actually in charge, quietly manipulating the politicians? Or are public servants actually the servants of their political masters, as the pollies focus more on getting re-elected than running the country well?

Does Treasury dominate the other departments and the economic advice going to government? Do bureaucrats still give ministers "frank and fearless" advice, or has their role been usurped by the ever-growing army of ministerial staffers, politically aligned think tanks and lobby groups?

In truth, it’s hard for outsiders to be sure. But a new book by a former 30-year senior Treasury officer, Paul Tilley, Changing Fortunes, is surprisingly frank and fearless in spelling out how things work, and how Treasury’s relationship with the elected government has "changed dramatically in recent times".

Last month Scott Morrison said he saw the bureaucrats’ role as implementing the government’s policies. Their advisory role was limited to advising the government of any problems that might arise during that implementation.

Tilley makes it clear this isn’t just what Morrison would like, it’s pretty much what he and his recent predecessors have long had. Treasury gives much information to the treasurer, but avoids giving written policy advice it believes would be unwelcome. What little frank advice is given comes verbally, as part of the private discussion between the treasurer and Treasury secretary.

Tilley says the art of policy advising involves understanding the true nature of the problem, predicting the consequences of policy options and framing effective policy advice.

To be influential, however, policy advisers need to find a balance between having sufficient separation from the raw politics of government to maintain a strong policy framework, on one hand, and having sufficient responsiveness to ministers to be listened to, on the other.

"Treasury’s influence spectrum had ‘frank and fearless advice’ at one end and full ‘responsiveness to government’ at the other," he writes. The trick was the find the right spot in the middle.

But by 2014, under Tony Abbott, "Treasury was now at the full responsiveness-to-government extreme," he writes.

His book is a history of Treasury from its establishment in 1901. "Treasury has long considered itself to be the best economic policy advising agency in Australia.

"Its favoured economic policy framework has for the most part been grounded in neoclassical economics - a belief in the power of markets, and the inherent tendency of supply and demand forces to move towards equilibrium.

"Non-achievement of equilibrium must be caused then, by some market impediment or government interference, and Treasury has seen it as its job to tackle those impediments or that interference.

"If there has been one enduring belief within Treasury – its light on the hill – this is it," he writes.

This is what Tilley means by Treasury’s possession – unlike so many other departments - of a "strong policy framework".

"If there has been a central defining culture in Treasury, it has been around analytical excellence – having the strongest policy framework and the best ideas. If there has been one recurring constraint on Treasury’s policy effectiveness, it has been too narrow in its focus and closed to alternative perspectives," he says.

Tilley’s title, Changing Fortunes, recognises that, over its 118-year life, Treasury’s influence has waxed and waned.

For its first 30 years it was the government’s bookkeeper. It evolved into an economic policy agency only after the Great Depression revealed its inability to provide authoritative advice on economic policy.

The economists arrived from the 1930s, with the advent of Keynesianism. The "golden years" for the economy in the 1950s and ‘60s were also golden for Treasury, which grew in size and status, leading the debate about economic ideas and allowing its influence and strength to give it "a level of arrogance".

This did not sit comfortably with the increasingly assertive governments of the post-Menzies era. Treasury was pushed out into the cold by Gough Whitlam, and kept there by Malcolm Fraser. Treasury’s advice remained frank and fearless, but was considered dogmatic, and often wasn’t listened to. I think this was when our Yes, Minister era ended.

Relations became more constructive when Bob Hawke and Paul Keating arrived, and continued so under John Howard and Peter Costello. "There was a sense of partnership in the Treasury-government relationships, and with the advancement of economic reforms that Treasury advocated it again influenced the policy agenda."

But for the past decade, first under the Rudd-Gillard-Rudd government, then under Abbott-Turnbull-Morrison, the "political chaos" has robbed governments of the sustained political capital needed to pursue difficult reforms. Governments fighting for their political survival have maintained a "relentless push for message over substance".

"In the daily political and media battles of the last decade, Treasury policy advice has not been sought, and at times not very effectively given. In those battles, it has been economic and budget facts and figures, not policy advice, that have been demanded," we’re told.

"The habit has developed of not providing policy advice that ministers don’t agree with. Policy advice on contentious issues now is discussed with ministers’ offices in its preparation and if the office indicates that the minister would not be comfortable with the proposed advice an information brief goes instead.

"The office’s (politically attuned) policy advice can then be provided over the top of the Treasury information brief."

The balance of policy influence has shifted to the political offices and external stakeholder groups, with the public service becoming more information providers and implementers of government decisions, he says.

"The government, therefore, is left without a strong source of genuine policy advice. The consequent lack of a consistent economic narrative over the last decade is plain for all to see."

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Poor Josh Frydenberg: on the wrong tram, heading for trouble

It’s not my policy to feel sorry for any politician – they’re all hugely ambitious volunteers – but I do feel sympathy for Treasurer Josh Frydenberg. He’s not the first treasurer to be strong on party dogma but light on economic understanding, but he’s among the first to be heading into stormy weather light on expert advice from a confident and competent Treasury.

There he was, thinking his first budget would be his last, primping up a pre-election budget that claimed to have fixed the economy and delivered on deficit and debt when that was all in the future and built on nothing more than years of wildly optimistic forecasts, combined with a massive tax bribe whose cost will keep multiplying for seven years.

Do you think that while cooking up the happy forecasts needed to justify his claims of Mission Accomplished and make his tax cuts seem affordable, Treasury warned him of the risks he was running, making himself and his government hostages to fortune?

I doubt it. They wouldn’t have been game to. The Coalition’s politicisation of Treasury, intended to kill its corporate sense of mission and replace it with people who’d proved their right-thinking and party loyalty as ministerial staffers, sent the message that the government wanted people who spoke only when spoken to and kept any contrary opinions to themselves.

In the process, however, most of the people with a deep understanding of macro-economic management have drifted away. People who understood the mysteries of the business cycle, with experience of recessions - and how excruciatingly painful they are for the government of the day.

These are people who know how much worse you make it for yourself – and for the economy voters depend on – by refusing to face the mess you’ve got yourself into, and who know how to help you change trams with as little loss of face as possible.

People game to tell you to stop digging. People who know that the longer you take to accept that the game has changed, the harder it will be to get the economy back on track – and, incidentally, to avoid getting the blame for completely stuffing it up.

People who’ll tell you to blame your about-face on changes coming from the rest of the world, but not to believe your own bulldust. People who’ll tell you to forget about party political doctrine – and the crowing of your opponents - and be completely pragmatic in doing whatever needs to be done to get you and the economy out of the poo.

Here’s what Frydenberg’s experts should be telling him, but probably aren’t – unless he speaks to Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe a lot more regularly than I imagine he does.

First, worrying about deficit and debt is something national governments can afford to do only when they’ve got an economy that’s growing strongly. The three successive quarters of pathetically weak growth we’ve experienced – complete with rising unemployment and underemployment - may prove to be just a blip, as the budget’s forecasts assume they will, but it’s much easier to believe they show the economy is fast running out of puff.

Recession is neither imminent nor inevitable in the next year or three, but with the economy in such a weakened state it is vulnerable to any adverse shock that happens along – whether of domestic or international in origin.

In such circumstances, it would be economically damaging and fiscally counterproductive (not to mention politically disastrous) to press on with fiscal consolidation rather give top priority to boosting economic activity and getting the economy back into strong-growth mode.

The problem is, the economy seems to be running out of puff because it’s caught in a vicious circle: private consumption and business investment can’t grow strongly because there’s no growth in real wages, but real wages will stay weak until stronger growth in consumption and investment gets them moving.

Policy has to break this cycle. But, as Lowe now warns in every speech he gives, monetary policy (lower interest rates) isn’t still powerful enough to break it unaided. Rates are too close to zero, households are too heavily indebted, and it’s already clear that the cost of borrowing can't be the reason business investment is a lot weaker than it should be.

That leaves the budget as the only other instrument available. The first stage of the tax cuts will help, but won’t be nearly enough. “Structural reform” is always a nice idea, but fixing a problem of deficient demand from the supply side would take far too long to be of practical help.

Over to you, Josh. If you’ve got the greatness in you, this could be your finest hour.

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How to dud manufacturing: be the world’s biggest gas exporter

Did you know Australia has now overtaken Qatar to be the largest exporter of natural gas in the world? But, thanks to private profiteering and government bungling, this seeming triumph comes at the risk of further diminishing manufacturing industry in NSW and Victoria.

It’s yet another example of naive economic reformers stuffing things up because real-world markets don’t work the way they do in textbooks.

Last week Dow Chemical announced it would close its Melbourne manufacturing plant due, in part, to high gas prices. This came after RemaPak, a Sydney-based producer of polystyrene coffee cups, and Claypave, a Queensland-based brick and paving manufacturer, went belly-up citing rising gas prices as an important contributing factor.

“Many other manufacturers are close to making critical decisions on their future operations,” according to Australian Competition and Consumer Commission boss Rod Sims. “If wholesale gas prices do not [come down], it is just a matter of time before they follow Dow, RemaPak and Claypave.”

When expected world liquefied natural gas prices rose last year, Australian gas suppliers were quick to raise their prices to local manufacturers, which use much gas in their production processes.

But expected world prices have fallen significantly over the past six months. Have the three suppliers dominating our east coast market cut their prices with the same alacrity? No. Most commercial and industrial users will pay more than $9 a gigajoule for gas this year, with some paying more than $11.

Why haven’t suppliers cut their prices? Because their pricing power means they don’t have to if they don’t want to. Why would they want to? Only because the government threatens them with something worse if they rip too much off their customers.

This was the big stick the softly spoken Sims was carrying last week as he urged them to do the right thing.

Is this the best way to regulate a market? No, but once you’ve stuffed it up you have little choice. The stuff-up evolved over some years, under federal governments of both colours and, predictably, with a lack of federal-state co-ordination.

It began in the resources boom, when Labor’s Martin Ferguson approved the construction of no less than three gas liquefaction plants near Gladstone in Queensland. That was one plant too many.

The companies secured the cost of building their plants by writing future contracts to export LNG to foreign customers. The first two companies secured the supply of sufficient gas from local sources, but the third had to scramble for what it needed to meet its sales contracts.

They expected far more gas to be available than transpired because they failed to anticipate the NSW and Victorian governments’ moratoriums on fracking for unconventional gas from coal seams.

Until the construction of the liquefaction plants – which enabled gas to be shipped overseas – the east coast gas market was cut off from the world market. This meant its prices were much lower than world prices.

The federal government knew that allowing the plants to be built meant opening the east coast market to the (much bigger) world market, forcing local prices up to the “export-parity price” or LNG “netback” price.

But, as Sims noted in a speech last week, the east coast was "just about the only region in the world that allowed unrestricted exports”. By contrast, when our west coast gas market was opened up, the West Australian government insisted on reserving sufficient gas to meet the needs of local users at local prices.

So, the east coast market opening was textbook pure (and much to the liking of the gas companies). Trouble was, the market worked nothing like the textbook promised. Lack of competition meant prices shot up to way above the export price.

The gas producers were able to overcharge the big industrial users, the three big gas retailers – AGL, EnergyAustralia and Origin – charged the smaller industrial users even more, and the pipeline owners whacked up their prices, too. Retailers’ prices peaked at $22 a gigajoule.

The threat to manufacturing was so great that Malcolm Turnbull eventually stepped in. Arming himself with the “Australian gas domestic security mechanism” (permitting him to set up a domestic reservation scheme), he forced the LNG producers to agree to offer domestic users sufficient gas on reasonable terms.

Now, however, prices have drifted back above export-parity. And the Australian Energy Market Operator is warning that gas shortages in NSW and Victoria could arise as soon as 2024 in the absence of major pipeline upgrades to allow more gas to flow from Queensland, or new sources of supply emerging.

This uncertainty adds to the risk of manufacturers giving up the struggle. The easiest and best solution would be for the Victorian government to lift its restrictions on development of – would you believe – conventional gas deposits.

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Without decent policies, Labor would get fewer votes, not more

The main reason so many voters have given up on politics and politicians is their belief that modern pollies care more about advancing their careers than advancing the wellbeing of the nation.

So, were Labor to decide that it lost the election – which dodgy polling encouraged it and everyone else to believe it was sure to win - because it made itself a "big target" by having lots of policies to fix things, rather than "small target" with few policies of any consequence, it would risk confirming voters’ suspicions that it cared more about getting back to power than improving voters’ lives.

Not a great way to garner votes. Particularly because, for reasons I’ll get to, the small-target strategy works better for the party of the business establishment and the status quo than for the party representing those who think the status quo needs reforming.

When you decide that having too many policies was the main reason you lost, it’s only human nature to flip to the opposite extreme of having none. Human, but not smart.

Economics teaches that success in life comes from seeking out the best “trade-off” between conflicting but equally desirable objectives. It involves using your brain to nut out the best answer, not turning it off.

As political scientist Rod Tiffen has reminded us, the no-brain response after elections is that “everything the winning party did is treated as a stroke of genius, and all the loser’s moves were foolish”.

If Labor wants to draw the right conclusions about the various reasons for its failure it will need to put a lot more mental effort into answering the eternal policy question: “what works and what doesn’t?”.

One obvious possibility is that Labor lost partly because it “did a Hillary Clinton,” focusing on the well-educated, socially progressive (and often public-sector employed) section of the party’s base and forgetting about the less educated, less progressive section in outer suburbs and the regions.

Labor’s had the tricky job of straddling these two, very different parts of its heartland for decades. When John Howard perfected the technique of “wedging” your political opponent, the original application involved driving a wedge between the well-educated and the blue-collar parts of Labor’s base. The classic case is the treatment of asylum seekers.

The no-brain response would be for Labor to “go back to” its blue-collar base. Labor can’t win without both ends. But it certainly needs to put a lot more effort into satisfying both ends. What can it do to help the regions than isn’t too blatantly wasteful? How can it look after victims of the inevitable shift from fossil fuels to renewable energy?

With every summer getting hotter, it’s not surprising the Greens had a good election. And the best explanation for the swing to Labor or independents in many well-heeled Liberal electorates is Liberal voters’ growing recognition that we need a government that’s genuine about combating global warming.

It’s quite possible this is of less concern to the blue-collar end of Labor’s heartland, particularly if it can be (falsely) convinced the immediate cost to household budgets would be high. But for Labor to tone-down its climate policy would risk it getting an even lower primary vote as more of its progressive base shifted to the Greens and, in the case of the Senate, didn’t flow back.

Labor needs reminding that life wasn’t meant to be easy for reformist parties. The party of the business establishment and the status quo always starts with a built-in advantage. They’re the people who surely must be better at running the economy and who stand for minimal change – the thing we all fear.

That’s why the Libs can get elected with no policy other than blocking the rise of all those Labor trouble-makers, and why Labor gets elected only by making the case for change. Why vote for a Labor status quo when you can vote for the original and best?

One of the Libs’ most effective lines was “Labor can’t manage money so they’ll come after yours.” Labor’s eternal vulnerability on the money question is why it would be folly for it to lay most of the blame for its failure at the feet of its one money man who does command the respect of econocrats, economists and business people, Chris Bowen. All the people who wanted to win votes by promising to spend big on education and health, scapegoating the poor blighter who had to find ways to pay for it all.

Similarly, when Labor relegates to a junior role a highly regarded former economics professor, Andrew Leigh, simply because he’s not a member of any faction, it reinforces voters’ suspicion that Labor members put their own careers ahead of the country’s good governance.

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Morrison's miracle election may turn out to be the easy bit

The great risk from Scott Morrison’s miraculous victory is that it will lead politicians on both sides to draw conclusions that worsen our politics and our policies. Bill Shorten offered us a chance to change the government and change the nation, and was answered with a firm No Thanks.

It’s a great win for the Coalition, but a loss for economic policy. The voters’ "revealed preference" is for more personality, less debate of the tough choices we must make to secure our future in a threatening world.

The first lesson the pollies will learn is that disunity doesn’t have to be death. Almost six years of fighting like Kilkenny cats can be forgotten during the eternity of a five-week election campaign, provided you put all the focus on the latest guy, and his predecessors are kept hidden.

The second lesson the pollies will learn is that the only safe strategy for oppositions is to make themselves a "small target", with only a few, popular policies, so all the focus is on the failings of the government.

Whatever policy changes you may be thinking of making, keep your intentions to yourself and don’t, whatever you do, seek a mandate for change.

Almost 28 years of continuous growth have rendered Australians a timorous nation. No national emergency, no need for change. As Kevin Rudd was the last Labor leader to understand, what voters crave is change without change. Promise it. (Since such a thing is impossible, deliver something else. Expect a backlash.)

Politicians have understood all this since Dr John Hewson (his PhD said: "knows more about economics than politics") used Fightback – "the longest suicide note in history" – to lose the unlosable election in 1993.

Labor forgot this because it wanted to be seen as less negative and destructive than Tony Abbott, and because, knowing Shorten lacked charisma, it decided policy substance was the best substitute. As it turned out, wrong.

In this era of unreal reality game shows, and multitudes of disillusioned, disengaged voters, the most successful politicians are those best at show biz. Morrison may not be the lovable larrikin Bob Hawke was, but he comes a lot closer than Hawke’s union mate did.

Morrison spent five weeks performing for the cameras to the exclusion of all others, and the electorate warmed to what it saw. Perhaps what Labor needs is a casting director.

The third lesson the pollies will learn is that the eternal reality of conflict between the classes must always remain covert. Any overt attack on privilege does more to fire up the defences of the well-off than to whet the appetites of those missing out.

In this country, the only envy that works is the downward variety. Envy the jobless for being able to eat without working, or the Indigenous for the extra help they get? Sure.

This government has spent its time beating up on boat people, public servants and those on welfare and, in the process, has gained more votes than it’s lost.

The well-off may have benefited from a lot more good luck (as I have) than it suits them to admit, but they are adept at convincing the punters than an attack on my five dollars is an attack on your five cents.

Labor fashioned a policy to pay for more of the spending on health and education voters genuinely want by reducing the tax breaks of the top 10 per cent (including the top 10 per cent of retirees), but almost every oldie was convinced they’d be a victim.

Same with the way the nation’s real estate agents put the frighteners on their tenants over negative gearing.

Highlight the conflict between the generations and you’re smacked by the demographic reality that voters get older every year, and the over-65s far outnumber the young.

In this election it was the Morrison government that made itself a small target so all the focus would be on Labor’s perceived policy losers.

Believing he had nothing to lose, Morrison staked everything on offering the world’s most expensive tax cuts.

But did he lie awake in the early hours of Sunday morning wondering how on earth he’d pay for them without the budget heading back into deficit? About the hugely optimistic forecasts of the economy’s early return to strong growth used to bolster his economic record? About the requirement that there be zero real growth in government spending per person over the next four years?

Morrison has no policy to control electricity prices, no convincing policy on climate change, no policy to halt the rising cost of health insurance, no policy response to any downturn in the economy, no solution to “cost of living pressures” and no plan to increase wages except yet more waiting.

The day may come when he decides winning the election was the easy bit.

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Universities: both sides should clean up the mess they've made

Among the many issues needing early attention from the winner of the federal election is universities. Trouble is, neither side seems to have much idea of how to fix the mess both parties spent decades creating, before Julia Gillard brought things to a head with the brainwave of moving to “demand-driven” funding.

Her idea of shifting control over the size of annual federal-funded undergraduate admissions from budget-conscious bureaucrats in Canberra to individual universities ignored the decades of funding repression to which the unis had previously been subjected.

Governments of both persuasions had gone for years trying to get the universities off the budget books by a process of de facto privatisation. Unis were given the power to charge (government-set) tuition fees to local students – HECS – and unrestricted power to charge overseas students – but with commensurate cuts in government grants.

The result has been to make vice chancellors as money-obsessed as any company chief executive, but without the private sector’s simple profit-maximising objective. Universities have lost their way, no longer sure what they’re doing or why they’re doing it.

Meanwhile, when Gillard opened the unis’ access to the federal coffers the predictable happened: vice chancellors went crazy, slashing entry requirements and cramming in as many more under-qualified undergrads as they could.

This seems to have been particularly true of second-string and regional unis. Australian Catholic University, Swinburne and Sunshine Coast more than doubled their domestic undergrad enrolments between 2008 and 2017. Another six increased their enrolments by more than half.

Gillard’s move to demand-driven funding was linked to her policy of raising the proportion of school-leavers going on to higher education to 40 per cent. A worthy goal – except that everyone took “higher education” to mean going to uni.

So, at a time when federal and state governments were engaged in their disastrous experiment with using “contestability” to get TAFE off their budgets, it suited both status-conscious parents and money-strapped lesser universities for the unis to cut their entry standards and poach kids who would have been better served getting a technical education.

Returning to the feds’ budget preoccupation, after the unis’ inevitable demand-driven raid on the federal purse came the Finance Department’s inevitable cry of pain: we can’t possibly afford this hugely increased cost.

The accountants’ solution – one that couldn’t have made sense to anyone who understood how un-market-like universities are – came in the Abbott government’s first budget: match the deregulation of uni places with the deregulation of uni fees (and cut uni grants by 20 per cent while you’re at it).

Fortunately, the Senate firmly rejected this bizonomics stupidity. But this left Abbott’s successors bereft of ideas to limit the unis’ cost to the budget. They ended up doing what they could do without parliamentary approval: canning the demand-driven system.

Which brings us to the election campaign. Labor is promising to restore demand-driven funding – but also to instigate an inquiry to find a more sensible division of roles between the two parts of higher education. Hopefully, the latter would undo the damage done by the former.

The Coalition is persisting with its spending cuts. But, because regional universities are claiming to be hard hit by those cuts, it promises special spending to help them (think National Party rent seeking).

But none of this would fix the real problem with the way universities have allowed their funding problems to undermine their commitment to high-quality undergraduate teaching and even high-quality research.

They’ve gone too close to turning undergrad teaching into a money-making sausage machine, where you have to be really dumb not to pass, where you don’t need to attend lectures because it’s all online, where lecturers – who will perish if they don’t get their publications up – limit their students’ access time, and where the lecturer is a casual because the person who should be doing it has brought in a big research grant and been rewarded by being allowed to “buy out” their teaching load.

Universities treat their junior academic staff badly (we get flexibility, you get insecurity) and have become bamboozled by KPIs and other faddish “metrics”. Their worryingly high dependence on fees from overseas students means the sandstone “Group of Eight” unis have become obsessed by lifting their place on the various international rankings of universities.

Why? So they can attract more overseas students and charge them higher fees. While their academics find ways to game their KPIs, their many “pro-vice chancellor (something in brackets)” search for ways to use their academic appointments and research direction to game the international rankings.

I think a much more comprehensive inquiry is needed.

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How to lose water, waste money and wreck the environment

If you want a salutary example of the taxpayers’ money that can be wasted and the harm that can be done when governments yield to the temptation to prop up declining – and, in this case, environmentally damaging – industries, look no further than Melbourne’s water supply.

The industry in question is the tiny native-forest logging industry in Victoria’s Central Highlands. The value it adds to national production of goods and services is a mere $12 million a year (using figures for 2013-14).

The industry's employment in the region was 430 to 660 people in 2012 – though it would be less than that by now. Few of those jobs would be permanent, with the rest being people working for contractors, who could be deployed elsewhere.

Successive state governments have kept the native-timber industry alive by undercharging it for logs taken from state forests. The state-owned logging company, VicForests, operates at a loss, which is hidden by grants from other parts of the government.

Coalition governments are urged to keep propping up the industry by the National Party; Labor governments by the Construction Forestry Maritime Mining and Energy Union.

What’s this got to do with Melbourne’s water supply? Ah, that’s the beauty of a case study by David Lindenmayer, Heather Keith, Michael Vardon, John Stein and Chris Taylor and others from the Australian National University’s Fenner School of Environment and Society.

I’ve written before in praise of the United Nations’ system of economic and environmental accounts (SEEA), which extends our long-standing way of measuring the economy (to reach gross domestic product) to include our use of natural resources and “ecosystem services” – the many benefits humans get from nature, such as photosynthesis.

Lindenmayer and co’s case study is one of the first to use the SEEA framework to join the dots between the economy (in this case, native forestry) and the environment (Melbourne’s water supply).

Melbourne’s population of 5 million is growing so rapidly it won’t be long before it overtakes Sydney as the nation’s largest city.

So many people require a lot of clean water, a need that can only grow. Almost all of Melbourne’s water comes from water catchments to the city’s north-east.

Logging of native forests has been banned in all those catchments except the biggest, the Thomson catchment, which holds about 59 per cent of Melbourne’s water storage.

Trouble is, the water that runs off native forests is significantly reduced by bushfires – and logging.

This is the consequence of an ecosystem service scientists call “evapo-transpiration” – the product of leaf transpiration and interception and soil evaporation losses.

This means the oldest forests produce the most water run-off. When old trees are lost through fire or logging, the regrowth that takes their place absorbs much more water.

Logging done many years ago can still reduce a forest’s water run-off yield today. The Fenner people calculate that past logging of the Thomson catchment has reduced its present water yield by 26 per cent, or more than 15,000 megalitres a year. They calculate that, should logging continue to 2050, this loss would increase to about 35,000 megalitres a year.

Assuming the average person uses 161 litres of water a day, the loss of water yield resulting from logging would have met the needs of nearly 600,000 people by 2050.

The SEEA-based case study shows the economic value of the water in all of Melbourne’s catchments is more than 25 times the economic value of the timber, woodchips and pulp produced from all Victoria’s native forests.

This is partly because, thanks to past fires and overcutting, only one-eighth of the native timber logged in Victoria is good enough for valuable sawlogs, with the remainder turned into low-value pulp and woodchips for making paper. (This is true even though the trees being logged include lovely mountain ash, alpine ash and shining gums.)

Turning to the Central Highlands alone, in 2013-14 the annual economic value of water supply to Melbourne was $310 million, about the same as the value of its agriculture. Its tourism was worth $260 million – all compared to its native timber production worth $12 million.

But the main thing to note is the trade-off between the different uses to which land can be put. Use it to produce water supply, and it’s very valuable. Use it to produce water supply and native timber, however, and you reduce the value of the water by far more than the chips and pulp are worth.

And why? To save a relative handful of workers the pain of moving to a different industry in a different town. And save the mill owners the expense of adapting their mills to chipping plantation wood rather than native wood. When did they deserve the kid-glove treatment the rest of us don’t get?

As for all the water that won’t be available to meet Melbourne’s growing needs, how will we replace it? Not to worry. We’ll get it from the desalination plant. It will cost $1650 more per megalitre than catchment water, but the Nats and the CFMMEU know we won’t mind paying through the nose to continue wrecking our native forests.

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