Mining hides news of non-mining recovery

And the smarties told you the resources boom was finito. Now it's being given most of the credit for this week's news that the economy grew by a rip-roaring 1.1 per cent in the March quarter and by an above-trend 3.5 per cent over the year to March.

The boom is far from finished. It will be adding to - and subtracting from - the growth in real gross domestic product for several years yet.

Media reports that "the mining industry accounted for around 80 per cent of growth in GDP in the March quarter" come from no lesser authority than the Bureau of Statistics itself. Sorry to say it, but this is true from a certain perspective, but essentially misleading.

It comes from the estimate that the mining industry's volume (quantity) of production grew by an amazing 8.6 per cent during the quarter, which means it made a contribution of 0.9 percentage points to the overall growth in real GDP of 1.1 per cent.

Almost all that increased production would have been exported. So it explains most of the growth of 4.8 per cent in the volume of total exports during the quarter, which itself made a contribution of 1.1 percentage points to the overall real growth in real GDP of 1.1 per cent.

But that's not the only way the mining sector affected the economy's growth during the quarter. Overall, business investment spending fell by about 1 per cent during the quarter. But Kieran Davies, of Barclays bank, estimates this was composed of a fall of about 8 per cent in mining investment, plus a rise of about 3 per cent in non-mining business investment.

And that's not all. The accounts show that the volume of imports fell by 1.4 per cent in the quarter which, since imports subtract from gross domestic product-ion, means their fall made a positive contribution to the overall growth in real GDP of 0.3 percentage points.

But if the economy is roaring along, why on earth would imports be falling?

Because such a high proportion - about half - of spending on new mines and natural gas facilities goes on imported capital equipment. And if mining investment is falling, imports of mining equipment must be, too.

Complicated, ain't it. Perhaps this will help. The resources boom, which began a decade ago, has had three stages: first, the huge rise in the prices we get for our exports of coal and iron ore; second, the massive investment in additional mining production capacity; third, a big increase in the volume of our exports of minerals and energy as the new mines come on line.

We're still being affected by all three of those stages. Export prices peaked in mid-2011 and have since fallen a fair way, though they remain a lot higher than they were before the boom started. Prices fell further during the quarter and, though this doesn't affect real GDP directly, it does represent a loss of real income to the economy, which must dampen demand indirectly.

Mining investment spending peaked in 2012 and has since started falling. It fell further during the quarter and this subtracted from growth, though less so when you take account of the related fall in imports of equipment.

Since so many mining construction projects are finishing, mining production is now growing strongly. It grew particularly strongly in the quarter because we didn't have any floods or cyclones to disrupt it. But though mining production has a lot further to grow, it can't keep growing as fast as it did this quarter.

Putting all that together, the mining sector's net contribution to growth during the quarter accounts for not 80 per cent of the growth during the quarter, but just under half, meaning the "non-mining sector" contributed just over half.

And that's good news. Why? Because this quarter's mining performance was the exception to the new rule. Mining made a net positive contribution because mining investment didn't fall as much as it could have, while mineral exports grew by a lot more than could have been expected. And neither of those two things can last.

The new general rule is that mining has been and will continue to make a net negative contribution to overall growth.

That's because the fall in mining investment spending generally outweighs the rise in mineral exports, even after you allow for the fall in mining-related imports.

The good news is that just over half the growth didn't come from mining. This is good news because for at least a year we've been worried about the economy "rebalancing", making the "transition" from mining-led to broader-based growth.

And even though the bureau did its (inadvertent) best to hide the fact from us, its accounts actually show that non-mining growth is at last taking hold.

Consumer spending grew by a not-so-wonderful 0.5 per cent during the quarter, but by an almost-OK 2.8 per cent over the year.

Home building grew by a rapid 4.7 per cent in the quarter, the first really strong quarter. But best of all, by Davies' estimate non-mining business investment grew by about 3 per cent.

Economists usually can't see the future with any clarity, but the mining investment boom is different. Because it consists of a relative small number of hugely expensive projects, it isn't hard to see how close they are to finishing and whether there are many new projects getting going.

They are, and there aren't. The macro managers have known for ages that mining will give the economy a big (net) dump in 2014-15 and 2015-16. That's why getting the non-mining economy going is so vital.

It's why the Reserve Bank has keep interest rates so low and won't start raising them until it knows we're out of the woods. It's also why, despite all his budget cuts, Joe Hockey made sure they don't do much to dampen demand until 2017-18.

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Budget's effect on economy: not as bad as it looks

The consumerist question about this week's budget is: how did it affect my pocket? The egalitarian question is: was its treatment of people at the bottom, middle and top reasonably fair? But the macro-economic question is: how will the budget affect the economy?

We know the economy has been, and is expected to continue, growing at below its medium-term trend rate of about 3 per cent a year, the rate that keeps unemployment steady. So will the budget help to speed things up or slow them down? In the economists' jargon, will its effect be "expansionary" or "contractionary"?

It may seem a simple question, but economists have various ways of attempting to answer it. One outfit asking itself this question is the Reserve Bank. The Reserve will take account of the budget's effect - along with various other factors' effects - on the strength of demand in the economy in making its monthly decisions about whether to raise, lower or leave unchanged the instrument it uses to affect the strength of demand, the official interest rate.

In making that assessment the Reserve takes a very simple approach: in what direction is the budget balance expected to change between the present financial year and the coming financial year that starts in July? And having determined the direction of the change, how big is it? Obviously, the bigger it is, the more notice we should take of it.

Taken at face value, the answers to those questions aren't ones most people would be pleased to hear. Joe Hockey is expecting a budget deficit of $49.9 billion in the financial year just ending and a deficit of $29.8 billion in the coming year.

That's an expected improvement of $20.1 billion - which may please those people who think getting the government's deficits and debt down as quickly as possible is the only thing that matters, but would worry most business people and economists.

Why? When governments spend more in the economy than they take out of it in tax collections - that is, run a deficit - they're contributing to the net demand for the production of goods and services that keeps the economy growing and increasing employment opportunities. Which, when private demand is weak, is a good thing.

(It would be a different matter if private demand were strong and the additional demand from the public sector was adding to inflation pressure.)

So the expected reduction of $20.1 billion in the budget's net addition to demand will have a contractionary effect which, taken by itself, will tend to make the economy grow even more slowly. And since the budget papers imply nominal gross domestic product will be $1632 billion in 2014-15, a $20.1 billion change represents 1.2 per cent of GDP - making it highly significant.

Oh dear. Doesn't sound good. But, as I say, this is taking the budget figures at face value - always unwise in economics. What's more, simply focusing on the direction and size of the expected change in the budget balance is a bit simplistic.

For a start, Hockey inflated the old year's deficit by choosing to make a payment of $8.8 billion to the Reserve Bank. This is just the government moving money between its pockets; it has no effect on demand.

If you ignore the one-off payment to the Reserve, the expected improvement in the budget deficit falls to $11.3 billion, which is equivalent to 0.7 per cent of GDP - but that's still a quite significant degree of contraction.

But here's where we start getting tricky. When you imagine that reducing the budget deficit by $1 will therefore reduce nominal GDP by $1, you're implicitly assuming that whatever the government does to bring that $1 reduction about won't have any effect on the behaviour of people who've had their benefits cut or their tax increased.

In the economists' jargon, you're assuming a "multiplier" of 1. In 2009, however, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development published estimates of the multiplier effects of changes in various classes of government spending and taxation by the Australian government.

It found, for instance, that increased government spending on building new infrastructure would have a multiplier of 0.9 in the first year (and 1.3 in the second year, as the increased spending by the government prompted the eventual recipients of that money to increase their own spending).

By contrast, it found that, on average, an increase in government spending on "transfers to households" (such as a cash splash) had a multiplier of just 0.4 in the first year, rising to 0.8 in the second year.

Why? Because a lot of people would hang on to the money (save it, or use it to reduce their debts) rather than spend it, particularly at first.

This explains why the OECD's multiplier for a cut in income tax is only 0.4 - people would save most of it. Similarly, an increase in income tax would reduce consumer spending by only 60 per cent of the increase because some people would cut their rate of saving to "smooth" their consumption.

The OECD's various multipliers for Australia range from 0.3 to 1.3. If we use a narrower range closer to the middle of that range - 0.6 to 0.9 - and apply these multipliers to the 0.7 per cent of GDP we calculated earlier, we get an estimated negative impact on GDP of between 0.4 and 0.6.
This suggests the budget's negative effect on demand won't be too terrible.

And note this: most of the expected improvement in the deficit in 2014-15 comes from an expected improvement in the economy (more people paying more tax; fewer people needing assistance) rather than from all the tough changes Hockey announced on Tuesday night.

The lion's share of the budget savings don't come until 2017-18. Why? Partly for political reasons but also because, as he's long been saying, Hockey didn't want to hit the economy while it was down.
 

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Why the jobs will come, though we can't say where

Take the news that Toyota is joining Holden and Ford in ceasing to make cars in Australia, then add the news that unemployment is now the highest it has been in a decade and you see why everyone's asking the obvious question: where will the new jobs be coming from?

Bill Shorten has joined others in demanding to see the Abbott government's ''jobs plan''. If the government has no plan to ensure there are new jobs to replace the thousands being lost, particularly in manufacturing, what hope is there?

Sorry to be snippy, but although all this may be the obvious question, it's actually a stupid question. Has everyone suddenly turned socialist? Do they imagine we live in a planned economy?

It amazes me that people who spend their entire lives living in a market economy don't have a clue about how market economies work.

Well, let me give you one: market economies are driven by market forces, not governments.

I'm no libertarian and, these days, I'm a poor apology for an economic rationalist. I don't believe there's such a thing as a ''free market''. I believe market economies are the creation of government and that any government with half a brain knows its job is to provide guidelines for the market and ensure it doesn't run off the rails - as happened in the global financial crisis.

But, by the same token, it ought to be obvious that the vast majority of decisions made in a market economy are made by private sector producers and consumers, each acting in what they imagine to be their own interests.

In other words, the greatest single factor driving the economy forward is self-interest: business people trying to make a buck (and make more bucks than last year) and households spending about 90 per cent of their income, trying to get maximum satisfaction for their money.

Those silly people demanding to see the government's ''jobs plan'' and concluding that, unless it successfully pursues such a plan, few if any future jobs will be created, seem to assume the economy works like a glove puppet: unless the government sticks its hand in the puppet and moves it, nothing happens.

If you want to know in which particular industries or occupations the government plans to ensure new jobs are created - which winners the government has picked - the answer is: none. It's leaving the market to determine all that.

But it does have a ''jobs plan'' of sorts. It's a two-step plan. Step one: leave the primary responsibility for ensuring the economy keeps growing and creating jobs to the Reserve Bank. Step two: get started on ensuring we don't end up destroying jobs the way the Europeans and Americans have been by getting the budget back under control, while ensuring this ''fiscal consolidation'' doesn't weaken demand and so discourage employment in the next few years.

So what's the Reserve's ''jobs plan''? You ought to know. It's to encourage borrowing and spending on consumption and investment - and, in the process, counter the employment-dampening effect of our still-too-high exchange rate - by keeping interest rates at near-record lows. With any luck, our dollar will fall further as the US Federal Reserve phases out its policy of ''quantitative easing'' (creating money).

What makes our Reserve so confident doing this will, before too many months have passed, create lots of additional jobs and get the unemployment rate heading back down towards 5 per cent? Well, apart from orthodox economic theory, decades of experience. It's worked every other time, why won't it work now?

As for the government itself, there is more it could be doing to enhance the economy's job-generating capacity. One is to borrow as much as necessary to provide our businesses with adequate public infrastructure and ensure existing infrastructure is used efficiently through such things as appropriate pricing.

Another is to ensure our education and training system - from early childhood to postgraduate - is doing enough, and is effective enough, in raising the skills of our labour force. As part of this, the Gonski reforms are a good start towards increasing the employability of kids at the bottom end.

And, recognising the market failure that leads to inadequate private investment in research and development, making sure economy-wide government incentives are adequate and effective.

There may be a role for ''industry policy'', though I've yet to see programs that aren't just disguised protection of favoured industries, amounting to propping up losers rather than picking winners. Most ''innovation'' programs have been a sham.

I've spent my career being asked where the jobs will come from. It's something people ask after every severe recession. It's a symptom of the pessimism that grips the public mood at the bottom of the business cycle (in reaction to the equally unreal mood of optimism that drives booms).

It's a question I've never been able to answer. But having lived through three severe recessions my answer is now: ask me again in five years' time and I'll look up the figures and tell you precisely where they came from.

I'm supremely confident they'll come because we've never yet had a downturn from which we failed to recover, with total employment ending much higher than before the downturn.

Since the last recession, total employment is now 3.6 million jobs above its peak in June 1990, an increase of 45 per cent, with full-time jobs accounting for almost half the increase.

In terms of occupations, the biggest growth has been among managers, professionals and associate professionals, with the weakest growth in semi-skilled occupations.

I don't know where the jobs will come from this time, but I'll give you a hint: virtually all of them will be in the services sector.

How can I be so sure? That's where virtually all additional jobs have come from for the past 50 years.

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Top 10 economic reforms that transformed Australia

1. Floating the dollar
Letting the market set the value of the Aussie dollar after December 1983 allowed it to fluctuate between US48c and $US1.10 so far, making it an absorber of shocks from the rest of the world. This has made the economy more stable and stopped the resources boom causing an inflation blowout.

2. Deregulating the banks
Introducing foreign banks and allowing banks to set their own interest rates made it much easier to get a loan and increased competition between banks and other lenders, but led to excessive lending to businesses and caused the deep recession of the early 1990s.

3. New taxes on capital gains and fringe benefits
In October 1985 Paul Keating announced new taxes but cut the top income-tax rate from 60 per cent to 49 per cent. He also abolished negative gearing, but reversed this under pressure from estate agents.

4. Removing import protection
In May 1988 Keating announced the virtual phasing out of the import duties and quotas imposed on most manufactured goods. Predicted demise of manufacturing industry did not materialise.

5. Privatising government businesses
Sale of the Commonwealth Bank began in 1991 and Qantas in 1992. The Howard government sold Telstra in three tranches from 1997. State governments sold their banks, insurance companies and some power producers and distributors.

6. Enterprise bargaining
In 1993 the Keating government ended centralised wage-fixing through a "national wage case" and introduced collective bargaining at the enterprise level. In 2005, Work Choices sought to promote individual contracts by reducing worker protections, further encumber unions and end reliance on industrial rewards. The Rudd government reversed the most extreme parts of Work Choices, but left much of it in force.

7. National competition policy
In 1995 Keating sought to encourage deregulation and privatisation by state governments and tighten the Trade Practices Act's restrictions on anti-competitive behaviour. Premiers tended to drag their feet.

8. Central Bank independence
In 1996 Peter Costello allowed the Reserve Bank to make its decisions independent of the elected government, endorsing its target of holding inflation between 2 per cent and 3 per cent, on average. The Reserve has raised interest rates more than a politician would - including during the 2007 election campaign - but this has kept inflation under tighter control than when politicians were in charge.

9. Goods and services tax
The start of the GST in 2000 came 25 years after it had been proposed by a major inquiry. It replaced wholesale sales tax and various unconstitutional or inefficient state taxes. Much death and destruction were predicted; little eventuated. But now GST is showing signs of wear and needs renovation.

10. Taxes on mining and carbon
Wayne Swan planned to raise huge sums from taxing miners' high profits and use the proceeds to give tax cuts and concessions to business and individual savers. He also used a tax to impose a price on carbon dioxide emissions. Both reforms were badly mishandled and Tony Abbott has pledged to reverse these reforms.

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Our three top treasurers in 40 years

In the 40 years I've now been an economic journalist for Fairfax Media I've given 12 federal treasurers the benefit of my free advice. I doubt it has made much difference, but I do know this: despite all you read in the paper, our economy is now far better managed than it used to be.

For this I give most of the political credit to just three of them: Paul Keating, by a country mile, Peter Costello and one you won't believe: Wayne Swan.

That the economy is now far better managed is easily proved. We went from boom to recession in my first year, 1974, back into a severe recession in 1982 under treasurer John Howard, and then again in 1990 with Keating's "recession we had to have".

Each was worse than the one before and each was correctly labelled "the worst recession since the Great Depression". I formed the view that recessions happened about every eight years.

But as Paul Bloxham, of the HSBC bank, has reminded us, Australia is now in its 23rd year of continuous economic growth. Must be doing something right.

To have achieved such an unprecedented gap since the last severe recession we had to escape the Asian financial crisis of 1997-98, the US "tech-wreck" recession of the early 2000s and the Great Recession that followed the global financial crisis in 2008 - and still isn't really over.

Reckon that was all down to good luck?

We owe it at least as much to good management. I know because I remember the roller-coaster ride the economy was on before the econocrats got it back under control.

Wages rising 25 per cent in a year and inflation hitting more than 17 per cent under the Whitlam government; inflation back up to 12 per cent under treasurer Howard and unemployment peaking above 10 per cent after his recession; mortgage interest rates hitting 17 per cent and unemployment peaking at 11 per cent in Keating's recession.

Turns out the present growth period accounts for just over half my 40 years. And of my 12 treasurers, Keating, Costello and Swan were in office for well over half.

Keating is our best treasurer by far because he instigated the sweeping reforms that transformed the economy and laid the groundwork for better day-to-day management of it. He made the economy less inflation-prone and more flexible, thus able to reduce unemployment faster.

Costello's greatest achievement was to free the Reserve Bank to change interest rates as it saw necessary, meaning the economy is now managed more by econocrats than politicians. He also ensured our banks were tightly supervised while the Americans were letting theirs create so much havoc.

Swan deserves a spot on the treasurers' honour board purely for his surprisingly deft handling of stimulus spending and human confidence after the GFC, ensuring we suffered only the mildest of recessions.

Aided by some in the media, his political opponents have had great success in rewriting that recent history. But later historians won't be deceived.

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Outlook for us and the world is sombre

Australia and the world are experiencing a Micawber moment. The economic prospects aren't reassuring, but there's not a lot we can do except hope something will turn up. Wherever you turn, the outlook is for continuing sub-par growth.

According to Dr Min Zhu, a deputy managing director of the International Monetary Fund, in Australia this week, the post-global crisis growth cycle may be coming to an end. At the peak of the crisis in late 2008, most countries gave their economies enormous injections of fiscal (budgetary) and monetary (interest rate and liquidity) stimulus to get them moving.

It worked. After an unprecedented contraction of 0.4 per cent in 2009, gross world product grew by 5.2 per cent the follow year, by 3.9 per cent the year after, then 3.2 per cent last year. Notice it running out of steam? At this late stage it's expected to slow further to 2.9 per cent this year.

If 2.9 per cent doesn't sound too bad, remember the world economy's long-term average rate of grow is 3.5 per cent a year.

In last month's world economic outlook document, the fund warns that "the major economies must urgently adopt policies that improve their prospects; otherwise the global economy may well settle into a subdued medium-term growth trajectory".

Trouble is, Zhu says most countries - rich and poor - have little "space" left for further fiscal or monetary stimulus. Indeed, the policy action the fund is calling for is more structural than cyclical: "strong plans with concrete measures for medium-term fiscal adjustment and entitlement reform" in the case of the United States and Japan, while the euro area "must develop a stronger currency union and clean up its financial systems".

As for the emerging market economies, many of them "need a new round of structural reforms". China, for instance, "should provide a permanent boost to private consumption to rebalance the growth of demand away from exports and investment".

Well that's fine and dandy. But though structural reforms that improve the functioning of the economy may ultimately have a big payoff, it usually takes ages to come through. And often there are costs up-front.

In the meantime the world's left, like Mr Micawber, hoping we turn out to be luckier than the forecasters expect. And the outlook for our economy isn't all that different.

Reading from a graph in the presentation to the Australian Business Economists' annual conference this week by Dr David Gruen, at the time of the pre-election economic update Treasury was expecting growth of 2.6 per cent this year, improving to 2.7 per cent next year.

That compares with the economy's "potential" growth rate of about 3 per cent - the rate needed to hold unemployment steady. So we can expect a continuing rise in joblessness. And the boss of Treasury, Dr Martin Parkinson, said this week that the prospects for the economy had deteriorated a little since the election.

The pundits seem agreed that the economy could return 3 per cent growth in 2016. But that's just the nice way of saying we look like having to endure three years of sub-par growth. Beaudy.

In theory, we do retain "space" to further stimulate demand with either lower interest rates or increased government spending. But rates have already been cut a long way, and the Reserve Bank seems likely to avoid another cut while we see what difference those earlier cuts make.

As for the budget, it has been in deficit for four years already, so no one is keen to go any deeper. At this stage the Abbott government is following the Labor government's policy of avoiding taking measures to hasten the budget's return to surplus - which would, in any case, be counterproductive to some extent at a time when the economy's weak.

But some of the noises Joe Hockey has been making suggest he's preparing to step in with big spending on infrastructure should the end of the mining investment boom cause a much bigger hole in overall demand than we're expecting. Replacing heavy investment in mining with heavy investment in infrastructure would make a lot of sense.

The main thing we are hoping will "turn up" is a turn down in the dollar. Even the fund said this week it believed the dollar was overvalued by about 10 per cent. An exchange rate with the US dollar in the mid-80s would do a lot to stimulate our trade-exposed industries.

Gruen reminds us that, whereas through most of the noughties exports of resources made a contribution to annual growth in real gross domestic product of about 0.4 percentage points, over this year and the next two or three they will contribute well over 1 percentage point.

The decline in mining investment - which itself will make a big subtraction from growth - will also lead to a decline in imports, since mining investment involves a lot of spending on imported capital equipment. That's a saver.

And for those who worry we may be blowing up a housing bubble, Gruen advises that the median capital-city house price has been roughly steady at four times average household disposable income for the past decade and at present is a fraction below four.

If you look at the graph you don't find the ratio has been steadily climbing over the years. Rather, it was a bit less than three times during the 1990s, but then jumped to four times in the early noughties and has stabilised there.

What happened in the early noughties to bring about this change? The return to low inflation and, with it, low nominal interest rates for home loans. This fall greatly increased the amount banks were prepared to lend people on an unchanged income. Australians used this increase in borrowing power to bid up the prices of our housing.

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What's driving our dollar

The clouds over our economy got a bit darker this week with the news that the US Federal Reserve was in no hurry to begin "tapering" its quantitative easing.

This underlined the reality now dawning on the new Abbott government that the outlook for the economy is quite uncertain and, unless we're lucky, quite weak. It's certainly not a time when you should shift to a contractionary stance of fiscal policy because of some misguided desire to force the pace in getting the budget back to surplus.

But let's start with the Americans and their quantitative easing. "QE" is a form of economic stimulus - the sort you resort to when you can't stimulate the economy the conventional way by cutting the official interest rate because it's already close to zero.

It involves the central bank buying government bonds or other securities in the marketplace and paying for them by just crediting money to the sellers' bank accounts (a trick only central banks, the creators of money, can do).

The intention is that increasing the money in circulation encourages demand (spending) at a time when aggregate (economy-wide) supply exceeds aggregate demand, with workers lying idle and firms operating well below full capacity.

Some people, remembering stuff their heard in the 1970s and '80s, worry that "printing money" causes inflation. It does if it causes demand to exceed supply - as would have been the case back then - but it doesn't when demand is a lot weaker than supply, as has been the case in the North Atlantic economies since the global financial crisis.

Even so, the Fed has been warning it will start cutting back (tapering) the amount of its continuing monthly purchases of bonds as it sees the economy strengthening, just to be on the safe side.

What happened this week was the Fed's decision that the economy wasn't yet strong enough to start the tapering. It was worried that recent figures for employment weren't as strong as expected.

It was also aware that the congressional deadlock over the budget was bringing about cuts in government spending and increases in taxes that exerted significant contractionary pressure on the economy. And another confidence-sapping battle between the President and Congress was brewing.

So how do our interests fit into this? Well, this is where it gets tricky. It's not bad news that, in the face of a weaker-than-expected economy, the Fed decided not to start withdrawing monetary stimulus. It's in our interests for the US economy to be as strong as possible.

What is bad news is that the US economy isn't strong enough for the tapering to begin. That's because one of the ways quantitative easing stimulates demand is by putting downward pressure on the country's exchange rate.

And anything that puts downward pressure on an important currency like the US dollar puts upward pressure on our dollar. What's stimulatory for them is thus contractionary for us.

As we've been reminded only too well in recent years, a high dollar reduces the international price competitiveness of our export and import-competing industries, causing us to produce less than we otherwise would.

From our perspective, our dollar has been high because of the resources boom: the high prices we were getting for our exports of mineral and energy and because of the foreign capital flowing in to finance all the investment in new mines and natural gas facilities.

With export prices having fallen a fair bit over the past two years, we expected to see our dollar come down and stimulate production in manufacturing and tourism.

For a long time nothing happened. It started falling in mid-April, but still hasn't fallen as far as it probably should given the size of the fall in export prices.

It took us too long to realise what the problem was: quantitative easing in other countries, particularly the US. Our dollar couldn't come down because it was being held up by the weak greenback.

This is a reminder that the exchange rate is a relative price: the value of our currency relative to the value of some other country's currency. So it's affected both by developments in our economy and developments in theirs.

It was when the Fed started making noises about tapering its quantitative easing that the currency market began anticipating this occurrence, pushing the greenback up and allowing our dollar to fall. Between mid-April and the end of July the Aussie had fallen about 14 per cent.

But this week's surprise announcement from the Fed saw the greenback drop against most currencies, including ours. Last time I checked, the fall since mid-April had narrowed to 10 per cent.

It's always dangerous to assume some change of direction that's just happened in financial markets will continue or even just not be reversed. But this week's events do suggest that the further fall in the Aussie dollar we've been hoping for is now less likely because the phasing out of America's quantitative easing is now further away.

Our present problem is familiar to you: with the resources boom's net contribution to growth now turning negative, we need the rest of the economy - particularly investment in new housing, and non-mining business investment - to take up the running. A decent fall in the dollar would do a lot to help stimulate the non-mining economy.

The other hope is for a turnaround in business and consumer confidence following the change of government.

The main indicators of confidence have improved since the election, with the Westpac-Melbourne Institute index of consumer sentiment jumping 4.7 per cent this month as Coalition voters' confidence leapt 19 per cent and Labor voters' fell 10 per cent.

But it's far too soon to say whether this improvement in the indicators of business and consumer confidence will translate into a significant improvement in actual economic activity and employment.

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ECONOMICS FAQ

Talk to VCTA Teachers Day, Melbourne, Friday, August 23, 2013

Often when I talk to economics teachers I focus on helping them keep up to date with the latest thinking on some topic, believing they need to know a lot more background information than their students do and leaving it for them to decide how much of what I’ve said they need to pass on to their kids. But this time I’m going straight to the classroom to give you answers to what I imagine are frequently asked questions by your students - and maybe even by you. The full version of my speech is a lot longer than I’ll have time to talk to today, so make sure you get a copy. Even so, I’m sure there are many more FAQs than I’ve had time to write about - or even think of. So if you’ve got questions I didn’t answer, I’d be grateful if you’d write them down and give them to me - or send me, if you think of them later - and I’ll use them for another talk or bear them in mind for my Saturday column, which has high school economics students as primary target audience.

Can we trust the official unemployment figures?

Short answer: yes and no. Yes we can trust the figures in the sense that, contrary to a widely believed urban myth, there was no time in the past when some government - Labor or Liberal - doctored the figures to make them look better. The figures are calculated by the Bureau of Statistics, which is not a government department but, like the ABC, has a high degree of independence of the elected government and doesn’t let politicians tell it how to measure things. The bureau, which is regarded as one of the best statistical agencies in the world, sticks closely to the statistical conventions laid down by the UN Statistical Commission, the IMF and, in the case of the labour force survey, the ILO. The definitions it uses to decide who is employed, unemployed or ‘not in the labour force’ haven’t changed significantly for many decades.

Remember that the labour force figures come from a sample survey conducted every month by the bureau, using a sample of 26,000 households - up to 20 times those used in media opinion polls. Even so, this does mean it is subject to sampling error, and the results jump around from month to month, meaning it’s best to look at the ‘trend’ (smoothed seasonally adjusted) figures.

Many people assume that the number of people said to be unemployed by the bureau is the same as the number on the dole. This isn’t true. You can be on the dole but not counted as unemployed in the survey (say, because you picked up a few hours of casual work during the week) or you can be counted as unemployed by the survey but not on the dole (say, because your spouse’s job gives you too much income to be eligible). Some old people have ideas in their heads that are a hangover from the time before 1978, when the Fraser government paid to have the labour force survey moved from quarterly to monthly, so that it replaced the old method of measuring unemployment as the number of people registered with the Commonwealth Employment Service.

I suspect some people’s false memories of the government fiddling with the figures stem from their memory of controversies over governments changing rules about how much work you can do and still be eligible for disability benefits or the dole. It’s sometimes claimed that a government has tried to hide some of the unemployed by putting them on training schemes. But people have been making such claims for years and the claim implies the training schemes are phoney, that they’d be of little value to the job seeker and are motivated only by a desire to fudge the figures. Whether a person is classed as unemployed depends not on how they’re classified by a government department, but on what answers they give to the bureau’s interviewers.

So, yes, we can trust the official figures in the sense that they haven’t been fiddled. But, no, we can’t trust them in the sense that they don’t give an accurate picture of the extent of unemployment. It is true - and has been for decades - that, under the international convention, someone who’s done as little as an hour’s work in the previous week is classed as employed, not unemployed. This means the official definition of unemployment is too narrow, making it too hard to qualify as unemployed and thus understating the full extent of joblessness. Note that very few people actually work only a few hours a week. It’s also true that the majority of people working part time (ie less than 35 hours a week) are happy with the number of hours they’re working. Many full-time students, young mothers and semi-retired people don’t want to work full-time.

Even so, a significant number of part-timers do wish they could get more hours, so we have a significant problem with under-employment. I suspect this measurement problem has arisen because the decision to call someone employed if they worked for only a few hours was made long ago when part-time and casual employment was quite rare. As it has become increasingly more common, the original definition of unemployment has become increasingly misleading.

The bureau has tacitly acknowledged this by calculating the rate of underemployment and adding this to the official unemployment rate to get the rate of ‘labour force underutilisation’. This broader measure of unemployment is calculated every quarter and published with the monthly labour force survey. From July 2014 the bureau plans to calculate and publish the broader measure monthly. Let’s hope this will prompt economists and the media to give it more attention.

In May 2013 the trend unemployment rate was 5.5 pc, while the underemployment rate was 7.3 pc, giving an underutilisation rate of 12.8 pc. Note that the measure counts as underemployed not just people working part-time who’d prefer to be full-time, but also those part-timers who’d like only a few more hours. So to that extent its definition of unemployment is probably a little too broad.

For many years I’ve used the rough rule of thumb that the easy way to correct the official unemployment rate is to double it. If you’re making comparisons with the past, however, you have to remember to double both the starting point and the end point. And remember that even if the level of the official rate is too low, it should still give a reasonably reliable indication of whether unemployment is rising, falling or staying the same.

Does the RBA still control interest rates when the banks can do as they please?

Short answer: yes it does. The RBA uses market operations to keep the overnight cash rate under very tight control. The cash rate has acted - and still acts - as the anchor for all other short-term and variable interest rates. Of course, all the other interest rates - from bank bill rates to mortgage interest rates - are a margin (or ‘spread’) above the cash rate because they involve riskier lending, but for several years before the global financial crisis world financial markets were very steady and those margins changed little. This gave people the impression mortgage interest rates always move in lock-step with the cash rate. After the turmoil of the crisis, however, many of the margins widened. The banks passed this increase in their cost of funds on to their borrowing customers. In the case of people with home loans, the banks did this by increasing their mortgage interest rates by more than any increase in the cash rate, or by failing to pass on the whole of any cuts in the case rate. Note that the banks increased the rates they charge their business borrowers by a lot more than they increased the politically sensitive mortgage rates.

For a brief period during the GFC the overseas financial markets in which our banks borrowed a high proportion of the money they lent to their customers ceased to operate. When trading resumed their margins were a lot higher. Realising the extent of our banks’ over-dependence on overseas ‘wholesale’ markets, the share market, the credit rating agencies and the official regulators put pressure on our banks to borrow more of the funds they needed from domestic depositors, whose deposits tended to be ‘sticky’ (slow to move away in search of higher returns) and thus more dependable. The resulting sudden surge in all the banks’ demand for deposits forced up the interest rates they paid on deposits, particularly term deposits, raising them from below the cash rate to above it. This, of course, was a great benefit to Australian savers, but the banks passed this higher cost on to their borrowers.

Could the banks have absorbed these higher borrowing costs? They could have - their profitability (not just the absolute size of their profits, but the rate of their profits relative to the value of their total assets or their shareholders’ capital) is very high by world standards or by the standards of other Australian industries - but they chose not to. And the limited degree of competition between the members of the big-four banking oligopoly gave them the pricing power to pass their higher costs on to borrowers and preserve their rate of profitability.

But don’t confuse the rights and wrongs of the banks’ actions with the quite separate question of whether their behaviour has robbed monetary policy of its effectiveness. It hasn’t. Why not? Because although the RBA uses the cash rate as its instrument, what does the real work of monetary policy are the market interest rates actually paid by businesses and households, so the RBA focuses on getting market rates where it wants them to be. If the independent actions of the banks cause market rates to be higher than where the RBA wants them, it simply cuts the cash rate by more to achieve its desired result. In other words, the fact that the banks’ margin above the cash rate is now wider than it was before the GFC simply means the RBA has had to cut the cash rate by more than it otherwise would have to get markets rates to where it wants them.

Does monetary policy still work?

Short answer: yes. When the share and property markets were booming in the late 1980s, the RBA spent several years raising interest rates to get the boom under control. The rise in rates didn’t seem to be working, and it became fashionable to say that monetary policy had become ineffective. I was still wondering whether this could be true when the economy started the slide that became the recession of the early 90s, the worst recession since the Depression, in which unemployment got close to 11 pc. Then all the smarties started saying interest rates had been held ‘too high for too long’.

There could be no better experience to cure me of ever doubting that monetary policy was effective. And yet we hear such claims whenever people observe a delay between the RBA starting to move the cash rate and making clear its desire to speed up or slow down demand but nothing seems to be happening. When the RBA cuts the rate but there’s a delay before demand picks up, people use an old Keynesian phrase that using interest rates to try to stimulate demand is like ‘pushing on a string’. But that analogy is appropriate only when the economy is in a liquidity trap - which the North Atlantic economies may be in at present, but we certainly aren’t.

In 40 years of watching the management of the Australian economy I can’t recall any time when monetary policy has failed to move demand in the desired direction. The problem is just that, as you well know, monetary policy operates with a lag that’s ‘long and variable’. Another thing that makes the process slow and adds to people’s impatience is that the RBA almost invariably moves in baby steps of 0.25 percentage points. Clearly, a single 25 basis point change isn’t likely to have a big effect on decisions about borrowing and spending. It’s probably true, too, that the response to a monetary tightening or loosening episode isn’t proportional or linear. That is, you may adjust rates several times without getting much effect, but then anther click finally has a big impact. The RBA uses the rule of thumb that most of the effect of a monetary policy on demand occurs within two years, with maybe two-thirds of the full effect occurring in the first year. The effect on inflation - which, of course, runs via the effect on demand - is longer again.

Would a big cut in the cash rate produce a fall in the dollar?

Short answer: no. This question has been asked a lot in recent times as trade-exposed industries such as manufacturing have be hard hit by the high dollar associated with the resources boom.

The first point to understand is that, in practice, economists don’t have a good handle on what factors determine movements in the exchange rate over short periods of less than a year of so. There are rival theories, but no particular theory always gives a convincing explanation of why the exchange rate has moved - or not moved - as it has in recent weeks. Instead, one theory tends explain recent events better than another does at a particular time, so economic practitioners tend to switch between the rival theories depending on which one seems to be working better at the time. I think the reason no theory seems to work well at all times is that the global foreign exchange market isn’t nearly as rational as the perfect market hypothesis assumes.

In the old days, a common theory was that the currency of a country with an excessive current account deficit would tend to depreciate, so as to help bring it back to equilibrium and, similarly, the currency of a country with an excessive current account surplus would tend to appreciate. These days, you rarely hear this theory relied on because there’s little if any empirical support for it. I think it was a hangover from the days of fixed exchange rates, when it was clear the authorities’ decisions on whether to devalue or revalue the currency were determined by pressures on their current accounts. In these days of floating currencies and the removal for foreign exchange controls, it’s clear the ‘driver’ of floating exchange rates has switched from the current account to the capital account - that is, from trade flows to capital flows.

These days, and particularly from an Australian perspective, there are three main, rival theories to explain exchange rate movements. The first is that the biggest influence over our exchange rate is our terms of trade, and particularly world primary commodity prices. There is much empirical support for this view if you look at a graph of the two over the years, though you can see the correlation breaking down over some shorter periods. The second theory is that the biggest influence over our exchange rate is our ‘interest-rate differential’ - the size of the difference between our official interest rate (or short-term commercial rates) and those of the major developed economies, particularly the United States. The higher our rates are relative to the others, the more our exchange rate is likely to be high and rising, and vice versa. Note that this is very much a capital-flows driven theory. The third theory is a kind of combination of the first two: countries with strong economic prospects relative to the major developed countries should have strong currency, whereas countries with weak prospects relative to the majors should have a weak currency. This theory makes a lot of sense and often seems to be pretty true, but there are times when it’s far from true.

Australia’s very strong exchange rate over most of the past decade is commonly explained by the resources boom and our exceptionally favourable terms of trade as a result of record high prices for coal and iron ore. Its rise can not be explained by any increase in our interest rates relative to the major economies, even though their rates have been at rock bottom since the global financial crisis. But this has not discouraged people adversely affected by the high dollar from convincing themselves the high rate is the product of currency market speculation or our relatively high rates since the GFC, and then arguing the RBA should make a big cut in our cash rate with the express purpose of engineering a big fall in the dollar.

Our terms of trade began falling in about September 2011, but the dollar didn’t start to fall until April 2013. This delay probably encouraged people to switch to a different theory. They may have thought the RBA was being too cautious in the speed at which it was bringing rates down.

Although no one can be too dogmatic about these things, the RBA does not believe the interest rate differential has very much effect our exchange rate. And this is despite the signs we see that expectations about whether the RBA will or won’t move rates haves an immediate effect on the bill rate. These effects are very temporary. During the period in which the RBA was lowering rates and openly expressing its hope that the dollar would fall to a more appropriate level, many people concluded it was cutting rates in the hope this would lower the exchange rate. It wasn’t. Rather, it was loosening monetary policy because the exchange rate wasn’t coming down. That is, it was trying to ease pressure on the tradeables sector as a substitute for a lower dollar.

Although the Aussie stayed high for about 18 months after commodity prices had fallen sharply, it has fallen by about 10 per cent since April 2013. Some people may attribute this to steady easing in policy over most of that time, but the BRA doesn’t agree with them. A much more likely explanation is that the Aussie finally began falling when Wall Street began worrying that the long-awaited pickup in the US economy would prompt the Fed to start ‘tapering’ the size of its quantitative easing. QE - the central bank’s purchase of bonds and other securities which are paid for merely with bank credits - puts downward pressure on a country’s exchange rate.

The point to note is that the exchange rate is a relative price - the value of my currency relative to the value of yours. So it shouldn’t be so surprising that changes in the level of our exchange rate need to be explained in terms of changed conditions in the US as well as changes in Australia.

Why are our interest rates always higher than other people’s?

Short answer: because we’re riskier. It’s true our interest rates are almost invariably higher than those in the major economies. This has been true for many years. It wasn’t hard to understand before the mid-1990s - when our inflation rate was still well above everyone else’s - but it remains true even when you compare real interest rates.

The explanation seems to be that, as a nation of perpetual net borrowers from the rest of the world (we run a persistent current account deficit), we are required to pay our foreign lenders a significant risk premium on top of the going international rate to compensate them for the extra risks they run in lending to a country that already has a very large net foreign debt and that, being a relatively small economy, is perceived to be more volatile (even though that’s not always true).

Another way of putting it is that Australia always has higher interest rates because we’re a country with an abundance of potentially profitable investment projects relative to the major economies. Our projects have to be relatively profitable or we wouldn’t be able to continue borrowing despite the high risk premium foreign lenders require us to pay.

Does a budget deficit mean fiscal policy is expansionary and a surplus mean it’s contractionary?

Short answer: no they don’t. Life would be very simple for students of macroeconomics if they did, but unfortunately they don’t. Why not? Because what macro economists focus on is not the level of economic activity, but the change in the level - that is, whether the economy has been/will be expanding or contracting. That means they’re interested in determining whether the budget - fiscal policy - is making a positive or negative contribution to economic growth. So it’s the change in the budget balance - and the direction of the change - that matters when assessing whether a particular budget is expansionary or contractionary.

These days the RBA and most market economists assess the stance of policy adopted in a particular budget simply by looking and the direction - and size - of the expected change in the budget balance between the previous year and the budget year. An expected reduction in a deficit or increase in a surplus is regarded as contractionary; any expected increase in a deficit or decrease in a surplus is regarded is expansionary. As a guide, the change needs to be equivalent to at least 0.5 pc of GDP to be significant. A change of 1 pc or more is extremely significant.

Strict Keynesians, however, define the stance of fiscal policy differently, distinguishing between changes in the cyclical component of the budget balance (caused by operation of the budget’s automatic stabilisers as the economy moves through the business cycle) and changes in the structural component (caused by governments’ explicit changes to taxes and spending programs). So they define the stance of policy adopted in a budget according to the direction of the expected change in the structural component arising from the net effect of the spending and taxing changes announced in the budget. They ignore the change in the budget balance caused by the economy’s effect on the budget, focusing on the change caused by the budget’s effect on the economy.

Note, changes in the stance of fiscal policy will be only one of the factors contributing to whether the economy is expanding or contracting. Other factors include: the stance of monetary policy, movements in the exchange rate, changes in the world economy and in confidence.

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Economic problems the pollies don't notice

Whoever wins the looming election will inherit a quite uncertain outlook, in which the economy may well slow further and unemployment rise faster over the next few years.

If so, all the politicians' wrangling over "debt and deficit" will be of little relevance and no help. That's the conclusion I drew from Reserve Bank governor Glenn Stevens' surprisingly sombre speech this week, in which he switched from glass half-full to glass half-empty.

If you didn't get that message, it's probably because it was missed in the financial markets' usual obsession with looking for hints about the next move in interest rates and the media's obsession with searching for criticism of the politicians - real or imagined.

Stevens warned that, in our efforts to get economic growth back to its trend rate of about 3 per cent a year - which is necessary to stop unemployment continuing to worsen - "the challenges ahead are substantial". What's more, those challenges will continue for "the next few years".

His speech explained those challenges. You know the basic problem: ensuring the rest of the economy takes up the slack as the stimulus from the mining investment boom tails off.

The first uncertainty is the future path of mining investment spending, which "rose from an average of about 2 per cent of gross domestic product, where it had spent most of the previous 50 years, to peak at about 8 per cent".

Presumably, that means it could eventually fall by a massive 6 per cent of GDP. But over what period? We don't know. All Stevens knows is that "that big rise is now over, and a fall is in prospect, with uncertain timing. It could be quite a big fall in due course."

Spending on the construction of new mines and facilities could stay on a plateau for a while, or it could just keep falling. If it plateaus, it makes no contribution to growth; when it falls, it subtracts from growth.

Meanwhile, what have we got going for us on the upside? Stevens advises that, "at this stage, global growth is sub-par". So, not much help from the rest of the world.

The much awaited fall in the dollar has improved the price competitiveness of our trade-exposed industries, which should allow them to produce more. "It would not be a major surprise if a further decline occurred over time," he says, "though, of course, events elsewhere in the world will also have a bearing on that particular price".

In particular, how soon and how far the Aussie falls will be influenced by how much more "quantitative easing" (creation of money) we see in the developed economies, particularly the US.

And then, of course, there's the stimulus to the non-mining economy from the easing in monetary policy. Since late 2011, the Reserve has cut the official interest rate by 2 percentage points to 2.75 per cent (with another click likely on Tuesday).

So monetary policy is "very accommodative," Stevens tells us, "by historical metrics, at least".

Huh? It turns out that, in our present circumstances, low interest rates don't pack the punch they used to, so we're not going to get as much increase in activity as usual.

Why not? Because, Stevens reminds us, we're not just coping with the aftermath of one boom, but two. The other is the end of the "credit boom".

You'd expect unusually low interest rates to encourage increased spending, particularly on those things that are usually bought on credit: consumer durables, homes and (non-mining) business investment.

But Stevens warns that while "some strengthening in consumption from recent rather subdued growth rates is a reasonable expectation ... we should not expect a return to the sorts of growth seen in the 1995 to 2007 period".

Why not? Because that period, in which consumer spending grew much faster than household income, was a product of the housing credit boom that largely preceded the resources boom. Households borrowed heavily to buy homes, thereby pushing up household debt levels and the prices of homes.

Ever-rising house prices (but also rising share prices) left households feeling ever wealthier, encouraging them to reduce their rate of saving and thus to allow their consumption to grow faster than their income.

In the aftermath of the credit boom - when share prices fell a lot and house prices fell a bit - households felt poorer and became more concerned about their high levels of debt. They thus began increasing their saving and trying to reduce their debts.

The household saving rate has now been steady at about 10 per cent of household disposable income for several years, meaning consumer spending has grown (and, as a matter of arithmetic, could only grow) at the same rate as household income.

Some people think the rate of household saving is unusually high and is the product of low consumer confidence, meaning it should fall when consumers cheer up, causing - again as a matter of arithmetic (because income equals consumption plus saving) - consumption to grow faster than income.

But Stevens says consumer confidence is neither weak nor strong and warns that the present saving rate isn't high, it's just back to normal. As well, "it would seem unlikely that we could bank on a resumption of sustained growth in assets [prices]", thus causing rising wealth to lead people to save less.

The household sector's apparent conclusion that its level of debt should go no higher makes it unlikely low interest rates will touch off another housing boom, although this "does not preclude prudent levels of borrowing by new entrants to the housing market, or by investors" (as existing borrowers continue paying down their mortgages).

As for non-mining business investment, its healthy growth is "by no means a certainty" and "looks like it is a while off yet".

Doesn't sound to me like a prospect where the highest priority of whoever wins the election should be getting the budget back to surplus.

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Yes, we are going through a weak patch

The economy is going through a weak patch. The resources boom is coming off, but the rest of the economy has yet to take up the slack. That's partly because the dollar has been so high until recently and partly because business and consumer confidence have been weaker than they should be.

I was lecturing an interviewer on our tricky transition when he stopped me in my tracks by asking what "metrics" I based this judgment on. Since he was used to interviewing business people, I suppose it was a fair enough question.

I could have said I based it on the high rate of company tax, the carbon tax or some other fashionable business complaint.

But being a boring economics writer, the "metrics" I was using were the obvious ones: what the Bureau of Statistics' quarterly national accounts are telling us about the rate at which the economy's growing and what its monthly survey of the labour force is telling us about employment and unemployment.

The two indicators act as largely independent checks on each other. The latest national accounts, for the March quarter, showed real gross domestic product growing by 2.5 per cent over the year to March, and by about the same annualised rate in the March quarter itself.

How do we know whether 2.5 per cent is good or bad? Well, it's well short of the economy's "trend" growth rate of about 3 per cent. The economy's trend rate of growth is its "potential" growth rate: the maximum rate at which our production of goods and services can grow over the medium term without causing inflation pressure.

Our potential growth rate is set by the average rate at which our productive capacity is expanding as a result of growth in "the three Ps" - the population of working age, that population's actual rate of participation in the workforce and the productivity of its labour (determined by business investment in equipment, public investment in infrastructure, the skill levels of the workforce through education and training, and technological advance).

The econocrats' estimate of our potential growth rate has recently been cut from 3.25 per cent to 3 per cent a year because the continuing retirement of the baby boomers is reducing the participation rate.

As the word "trend" implies, our potential growth rate is a medium-term average. When the economy's coming out of a recession it can grow faster than its trend rate until all its spare production capacity (including unemployed and underemployed workers) is taken up.

So when the economy is growing below its trend rate, this implies it isn't growing fast enough to create sufficient additional jobs to stop unemployment rising.

And that's just what the labour force figures confirm is happening. The figures we got this week for June, for instance, show the rate of unemployment creeping up from 5.6 per cent to 5.7 per cent.

In truth, it's been creeping up for some time. Using the bureau's much clearer smoothed seasonally adjusted figures (also confusingly known as the "trend" estimates), the unemployment rate was 5.2 per cent in June last year, but 5.7 per cent in June this year.

Last December it was 5.4 per cent, implying its rate of worsening is a little faster in recent months. This, in turn, suggests the economy's rate of growth in the June quarter may have been a little slower than a 2.5 per cent annualised rate.

Note that employment is still growing, though at a slower rate - only about 7500 jobs in June, compared with about 18,000 jobs a month around the turn of the year - with almost all the new jobs being part-time.

The trick is that size of the workforce keeps growing - as a result of natural increase and immigration - so if the economy isn't generating enough additional jobs, unemployment must rise.

Just how long the economy goes on slowing and by how much are questions we can only guess at. It will be determined, obviously, by how quickly the resources boom comes off, on the one hand, and how long it takes the non-mining economy to pick up speed on the other.

The huge growth in investment spending on new mines and natural gas facilities looks like it's at its peak, but we don't yet know whether it's reaching a plateau or will fall away quite quickly. Since mining investment has been the biggest factor driving economic growth in recent years this is a key question.

Similarly, it's hard to predict how long it will take the rest of the economy to recover its mojo and return to normal rates of growth. In particular, non-mining business investment has been a lot weaker than usual, as has households' investment in home building.

What reason is there to expect the non-mining economy to return to more normal rates of growth? One reason is the belated (and, as yet, still insufficient) fall in the dollar following the retreat in our mineral export prices.

This will act as a stimulus to our export and import-competing industries. Another source of stimulus is the easing in monetary policy. The Reserve Bank has been lowering the official interest rate since November 2011, cutting it from 4.75 per cent to 2.75 per cent. Monetary stimulus takes a fair while to have its full effect on the willingness of businesses and households to borrow and spend.

It's always possible the economy could slow to the point where it was contracting rather growing, but it's rare for growth to simply peter out in such a way - partly because it can be seen coming, leaving the economic managers time to take corrective action.

Just as the Reserve has been doing, of course. With this week's evidence of further weakness - and assuming it's confirmed by a low inflation report on July 24 - it won't be surprising to see the Reserve cut rates again.

After that, the next stimulus weapon would be fiscal policy - the budget. The new Treasurer, Chris Bowen, would be well advised to keep his options open.

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News on economy not as bad as it sounds

Good grief! It seems all the news about the economy this week has been terrible. Is the roof about to fall in?

First we heard consumer confidence took a 7 per cent hit after Treasurer Wayne Swan's all-bad-news budget, then we hear the sharemarket has taken a dive because the Americans can't decide whether things are getting better or still as bad as ever.

By now the dollar's down about US6c. New figures show the mining investment boom is no more and, to top it off, we hear Ford is ceasing production with up to 10,000 jobs to go.

So, is the roof falling in on the economy?

Fortunately, it's not as bad as it sounds. My guess is the economy will continue motoring along (sorry), not doing brilliantly but not doing too badly either.

Let's put the bad news in context. For a start, the ups and downs in measures of consumer confidence must mean something, but they are an unreliable guide to the prospects for consumer spending.

We all know the sharemarket goes up and down from one day to the next, and of late there has been more up days than down.

The fall in the dollar might be bad news for people planning overseas holidays or buying imported goods, but it's good news for our hard-pressed manufacturers and tourist operators. My fear is it won't last.

Ford might have announced its closure this week, but it won't actually happen for another three years. That gives its workers plenty of time to find new jobs.

In any case, our workforce of 11.6 million often grows by 10,000 or more in just a month. That might sound like a lot of jobs but, compared with the size of our economy, it's microscopic.

The economy's been growing at an average rate of 3 per cent a year. That's been enough to hold unemployment below 5.5 per cent, though it's true the budget expects the economy to slow a fraction in the coming financial year, thereby allowing unemployment to creep up to 5.75 per cent by next June.

It's true the end of the mining boom is likely soon to be reducing rather than adding to the economy's growth, but that is why the Reserve Bank has been cutting interest rates back to their lowest since the global financial crisis: to encourage borrowing and spending on consumer durables, housing and business investment.

And remember this: every time we get a new government hope springs eternal and people cheer up, with punters spending more and businesses investing in renewal and expansion.

How long the good mood lasts depends on the new government's performance, of course.

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Budget becomes Canberra's con job on the nation

Tuesday night's budget may have become the central plaything in the dog fight between Labor and Liberal, but its economic importance is a shadow of what it used to be.

It suits no one in Canberra to admit it - not the pollies of either side, the econocrats, the business lobbyists nor the journalists - but these days the budget is not of great significance in the macro management of the economy.

True, it's still of great newsworthiness because the decisions the government makes about changes to spending programs and taxes do affect the pockets of people across Australia.

And these decisions are of micro-economic significance because they affect the efficiency with which the nation's economic resources are allocated. They also affect the fairness with which income is distributed between low, middle and upper-income households.

But with so many people having made up their minds on whom they'll vote for, and so many of the nasties already leaked to the media (or selectively leaked to the morning papers before being announced the same day), I doubt the budget will have much political significance.

And that's even if, following the usual budget media-manipulation script, the government has held back a few nice measures for the media to give exaggerated attention to on the night.

Even so, Canberra's dirty little secret is that the decisions we'll be making so much fuss about on Tuesday night will have surprisingly little effect on how the macro economy performs over the coming financial year.

That's for two reasons. First, politicians' decisions have much less effect on the budget than the daily decisions made by the 98.4 per cent of Australians living outside the ACT.

If, as seems likely, most of the budget deficit we're told about on Tuesday is accounted for by the "structural deficit" - that is, the net cumulative effect of unwise decisions by governments of both colours over many years - this will prove how much tosh the pollies have been spouting about the bad state of the economy.

Even the government has long been crying crocodile tears about how tough people are finding it to keep up with the rising cost of living. Julia Gillard and Wayne Swan keep doing this because their focus groups tell them the cost of living is all the punters can find to complain about.

They make sympathetic noises even though they know the economic indicators say real incomes are rising, not falling.

The second reason the budget's macro-economic significance is exaggerated by the denizens of Canberra is that, as the fine print in the budget papers admits every year, the primary responsibility for the day-to-day management of macro economy rests with monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates), which is determined by the Reserve Bank in Sydney without reference to the pollies in Canberra.

It's true changes in the budget balance affect the strength of aggregate demand in the economy, but what the Keynesian Rip van Winkles haven't woken up to is that so do a lot of other things - the exchange rate, for openers.

The point is, the budget is just one of various factors the Reserve takes into account when deciding whether to use its interest-rate lever to stimulate or restrict demand. In other words, monetary policy is the "swing instrument".

Sometimes the Reserve chooses to push in the same direction as the budget, sometimes it chooses to counteract the budget by pushing in the opposite direction (as it did in the Howard government's later years when it was using its budget to worsen rather than improve the business cycle).

Much will be made on Tuesday night of the forecasts for the economy contained in the budget papers. We'll be told how fast Treasury expects the economy, inflation and all the rest to grow next financial year, as though this is news of great significance.

It isn't. Why not? Partly because it's the forecasts of the macro managers that matter and, as we've seen, neither Treasury nor its masters manage the economy. It's the Reserve Bank's forecasts that matter.

Actually, Treasury makes sure its forecasts (which it uses primarily to help it estimate budget spending and revenue) are little different from the Reserve's. Why? Because the Reserve's independence of the politicians makes it the more credible forecaster.

And get this: the forecasts we'll be told about with great fanfare on Tuesday will be old news. Why? Because they'll be the same as the forecasts the Reserve announced last Friday. The economy's growth should average 3 per cent in 2012-13 and about 2.5 per cent in 2013-14. The forecasts for inflation will be 2.25 per cent and about 2.5 per cent respectively.

Why does everyone in Canberra have an interest in misleading us about the budget's macro-economic significance? Because, as the ACT's principal export to the rest of Australia, the budget is how they make their living.

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Why a little inflation isn't such a bad thing

I was in a taxi on Wednesday when we heard on the radio that the consumer price index had risen by just 2.5 per cent over the year to March - smack in the middle of the Reserve Bank's target, leaving it room to cut interest rates further if need be. So, no probs there.

"But why do we have any inflation?" the cab driver asked me. "When I came to Australia I could buy a rock cake for 8? - the other day they wanted $3.50."

It was a simple, sensible question. Unfortunately, the answer isn't at all simple. The short answer, however, is that it's a policy choice. That is, the monetary authorities - the central bank and the government - believe a moderate rate of inflation (moderate meaning between 2 per cent and 3 per cent, on average) is, on balance, a good thing.

Inflation refers to a persistent rise in the general level of prices. It may surprise you that in Britain over many centuries there was no net rise in the level of prices. Prices would rise during wars, but then fall back after the war was over. Governments controlled the price level by tying the amount of money in circulation to the amount of gold, and then controlling the amount of gold.

But this "gold standard" broke down during the Great Depression, and after World War II it was replaced by the Bretton Woods system where each country's currency was fixed to the US dollar, with the US dollar fixed to a gold price of $US35 an ounce.

This system meant all other countries effectively imported their inflation rate from the US economy. The Americans kept inflation pretty low until they began financing the Vietnam War by printing money rather than borrowing from the public.

This caused the fixed exchange-rate system to break down in the early 1970s, with most developed countries allowing their currencies to float. This gave them the ability to control inflation for themselves.

The trick, however, is that they - and we - do so not by controlling the quantity of money in circulation (as the monetarists tried and failed to do in the old days), but by using their ability to control the price of money - interest rates - to keep the demand for goods and services pretty much in line with the supply of goods and services. But if the authorities have the ability - in principle, at least - to use their control of interest rates to control the price level, why don't they keep it completely stable, thus allowing a zero increase in the CPI? Why do they permit inflation averaging a couple of per cent a year, and call this "practical price stability" (as they do).

Short answer: because they care about unemployment as well as inflation. The first reason is their belief that, due to practical limitations, the CPI tends to overstate the rise in the price level. Huh? This is because of the delay in including new products in the CPI basket of goods and services, and also because it treats as inflation price rises actually caused by an improvement in the quality of goods in the basket. For instance, part of the reason for the price of the new model Holden being higher than the price of the previous model is that it's a better car - better under the bonnet or better accessories.

If you accept that the CPI tends to overstate inflation then achieving zero inflation as measured by the CPI would involve keeping money so tight you were actually forcing prices down, which would be quite damaging to the economy and employment.

The second reason the econocrats like a bit of inflation is that there can be times when wages grow too quickly and make employing people too expensive. Wages need to fall back a bit, but workers are hugely resistant to cuts in their wages (and sensible employers don't fancy the idea, either).

The thing is that, if there's a positive rate of inflation it's much easier to cut wages in real terms by raising them less than the inflation rate. This is what happens in every recession.

The third reason the econocrats regard a bit of inflation as helpful is that, in a deep recession, they may judge it necessary to stimulate the economy not just by cutting interest rates but by cutting them so far they're negative in real terms - that is, cutting them until they're actually lower than the inflation rate (as they are right now in the US and Britain).

Think it through: when real rates are negative, lenders are actually paying people to borrow from them (after you allow for the effect of inflation), so this should be highly stimulatory. But, clearly, you can't bring about negative interest rates - something you'd only ever do in an emergency - unless you've got a positive inflation rate to go below.

So those are the three reasons the Reserve Bank is satisfied with an inflation rate averaging 2 to 3 per cent and defines this as practical price stability.

But back to my taxi driver. It's all very well to remember how much less you had to pay for things in the old days and feel cheated, but you shouldn't forget your income is also a lot higher than it was in the old days. In fact, just about everyone's income - whether wages or the pension - grows a bit faster than prices are rising, so there's no cause to feel cheated by the system. That is, almost everyone's income has risen in real terms over the years.

This real income growth is the reason economists are so unimpressed by punters and pollies carrying on about the trouble they're having keeping up with "the cost of living". You can achieve that delusion only by focusing on what's happened to the prices you pay and ignoring what's happened to your income.

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How Reserve Bank retains control of interest rates

When the banks began moving their mortgage and other lending rates at variance with the Reserve Bank's changes in its official interest rate, many people took this as a sign the Reserve had lost its ability to control market interest rates, making its monetary policy ineffective.

Fortunately for all of us, this impression was wrong. That so many people came to this conclusion showed their grasp on the mechanics of monetary policy (the central bank's manipulation of interest rates to influence the strength of demand in the economy) was shaky.

But this week one of the Reserve's assistant governors, Dr Guy Debelle, gave us all a little tutorial in a speech to a business school breakfast.

On Tuesday (and on the first Tuesday of every month bar January), the board of the Reserve meets to determine the appropriate "stance" (setting) of monetary policy. The decision takes the form of a target for the official rate (known in the trade as the "cash" rate). Sometimes the target is moved down a little, sometimes up a little, but mainly it's left where it is.

How does the Reserve unfailingly achieve the target? Settle back. The cash rate is the interest rate the banks charge each other to borrow and lend funds overnight.

Every bank has an account with the Reserve called its "exchange settlement account". Just about every monetary transaction in the economy goes through these accounts. As Debelle explains, when you pay your electricity bill by direct debit, the funds are effectively transferred from your bank account, across the exchange settlement account of your bank to that of your electricity company's bank and into the electricity company's account.

All these transactions mean the balance in each bank's exchange settlement account goes up and down throughout the day. But the Reserve requires each bank to ensure its account always has a positive balance. Banks that leave funds in their account overnight are paid interest at a rate 0.25 percentage points below the cash rate, whereas banks that look like having a negative balance may borrow the difference from the Reserve overnight at a rate 0.25 percentage points above the cash rate.

Get it? These penalties are designed to encourage the banks to borrow and lend to each other overnight at the (more attractive) cash rate.

The Reserve's ability to control the cash rate arises because it has complete control over the supply of funds in this market. It ensures there is just sufficient supply to meet the demand for funds at the interest rate it is targeting.

Where an increase in demand threatens to push the interest rate up, it will use its "open market operations" to increase the supply of funds just sufficiently to keep the rate where it wants it. Where a fall in demand for funds threatens to push the rate down, the Reserve will reduce the supply to ensure the rate doesn't change.

Historically, the Reserve would increase the supply of cash by buying second-hand government bonds from the banks and paying for them with cash. (Note that in this context, "cash" doesn't mean notes and coins, it's a nickname for the funds in exchange settlement accounts.)

Conversely, it would reduce the supply of funds by selling bonds to the banks, which they had to pay for from their exchange settlement accounts. These days, however, the Reserve achieves the same effect using repurchase agreements ("repos").

The main reason for fluctuations in the overall daily demand for exchange settlement funds is transactions involving the Reserve's one big banking customer, the federal government. Demand will rise on days when the government's receipts from taxation exceed its payments of pensions and all the rest. Demand for cash will fall on days when the government's payments exceed its receipts.

All this ensures the Reserve has a vicelike grip on the cash rate. And this gives it the ability to influence all the other interest rates in the economy. Why? Because the cash rate is, in effect, the anchor point for all other rates.

Banks fund only a very small part of their operations in the cash market, Debelle explains, but all their funding could be done from that market if they wanted to. The rate at which they're prepared to borrow for periods longer than overnight is the averaged expected path of the cash rate over the life of the loan plus various margins for risk.

If this were not the case, a bank would be better off borrowing all the funds it needed in the overnight cash market and rolling them over every day.

The reason banks borrow and lend at rates higher or lower than the average expected cash rate over the life of the loan is the need to allow for the various risks involved (the risk of not being repaid, the risk in agreeing to lend your money for a longer time, and so forth) and, of course, profit margins along the way.

For several years leading up to the global financial crisis, these various margins (known as "spreads" or "premia") didn't change much, meaning a change in the cash rate brought about an identical change in mortgage and other bank lending rates.

Since the crisis, however, margins have been changing a lot, as a result of people realising they weren't charging enough to cover the risks they were running, and our banks realising they needed more domestic, retail and longer-term funding to protect them against future crises, leading to intense competition between them to attract term deposits.

The net effect has been that the banks' borrowing costs have risen more (or fallen less) than the cash rate has, causing changes in, say, the mortgage rate, to be less generous than changes in the cash rate and thus widening the margin between the cash rate and the mortgage rate.

The Reserve has allowed for this shift in margins, cutting the cash rate by more than it would have so as to ensure market interest rates - the rates people actually pay - are where it wants them to be.

Its influence over market rates thus remains undiminished. And that's because the cash rate remains by far the most powerful influence over other interest rates - though, as we've seen, not the only influence.

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Reserve Bank burst bubble of certainty about future

There's never any shortage of people convinced they could do a much better job of managing the macro-economy than the outfit that does manage it, the Reserve Bank. And sometimes I suspect there's a geographic dimension to their criticism.

Economists and others who live in Canberra seem terribly confident they know better than the Reserve - much more confident than those living in Sydney, the same town as the Reserve. Indeed, the self-proclaimed superior understanding of the Canberrans is exceeded only by that of economists from Melbourne.

The Reserve is, of course, far from omniscient. Its forecasts are often astray. And these days, forecasting is more important than ever. In the old days, governments waited until they had hard statistical evidence inflation was getting out of hand before they took corrective action by raising interest rates.

Which meant they were almost always acting too late - sometimes so late they ended up making matters worse rather than better. That's because changes in rates have their effect on demand and then prices only after a "long and variable lag".

Since the Reserve attained its independence from the elected government, it has sought to correct for monetary policy's long "response lag" by conducting policy on a forward-looking basis, or "pre-emptively".

That is, policy decisions are based on forecasts for growth and, more particularly, inflation over the coming 18 months to two years. The arrival of actual figures is used just to adjust the forecasts.

And, as I say, the Reserve's forecasts are often astray. But this just reflects the limitations of the economics profession's art. The question is whether any of the Reserve's many second-guessers are any better at forecasting than it is. I remain to be convinced any are.

Although the Reserve's present course of action is always being criticised by someone - and not only the business lobby groups that make their living by always arguing rates should lower - I see little reason to believe they could do any better.

Indeed, they could easily do a lot worse. The Reserve makes a lot of small errors, but it's yet to make any really serious ones - the reason its critics have failed to gain much credibility.

One reason the Reserve never gets too far off beam is that it revises its forecasts every quarter and generally moves in tiny steps of 25 basis points (0.25 percentage points). And it's never too proud to change direction if it becomes obvious it should.

The other reason the Reserve has yet to get things badly wrong is that no one understands better than it how fallible its forecasts are - all forecasts, for that matter. And it's never afraid to admit its fallibility to the world.

Just as newspapers that regularly correct their errors are more trustworthy than those that rarely do, so those official forecasters who freely acknowledge their failings engender more confidence in their competence rather than less.

The Reserve revised its forecasts in the statement on monetary policy it issued on Friday. And for the first time it provided "confidence intervals" for its latest forecasts for growth and underlying inflation. These intervals were based on the range of the Reserve's actual forecast errors between 1993 and 2011.

It advised that a 70 per cent confidence interval for the forecast of underlying inflation over the year to the December quarter of 2014 extends from 1.6 per cent to 3.2 per cent. That is, if the Reserve makes similar-sized forecast errors to those made in the past, there is a 70 per cent probability that underlying inflation will lie between 1.6 per cent and 3.2 per cent.

Similarly, there's a 70 per cent probability that growth in real gross domestic product (GDP) over the year to the December quarter of 2014 will lie between 1.5 per cent and 4.4 per cent.

Hardly particularly informative? At least it avoids the illusion of certainty about what the future holds. But if your own fallibility makes you prefer a central, single-number forecast (a "point estimate"), you can use the fact that the confidence intervals are assumed to be symmetrical to work out what it is.

Add 1.6 to 3.2 and divide by two and the central forecast for underlying inflation is 2.4 per cent. Similarly, halving 1.5 plus 4.4 tells you the central forecast for growth is a fraction less that 3 per cent.

Happy now? If you're really keen you can apply a ruler to the confidence interval graphs in the statement and work out the Reserve's central forecast quarter by quarter - something it has never previously (sort of) made public. Whether it continues doing so has yet to be decided.

The width of the confidence interval (plus or minus 0.8 percentage points in the case of underlying inflation; plus or minus 1.5 points in the case of growth) indicates there is always substantial uncertainty about the economic outlook. (Though less about the more inertia-driven inflation than about growth.)

The Reserve says such high levels of uncertainty are also found in other countries and for both official and private forecasts. Similarly, it's typical (and hardly surprising) for the degree of uncertainty to increase the further into the future you're forecasting.

But if economic forecasts are so universally inaccurate, how come we hear so little about confidence intervals? It's partly because economists don't like advertising the considerable limitations of their art. They don't even like reminding themselves of their own fallibility.

But it's also because economists are selling their services and are very conscious of how much their customers value the illusion of certainty, which allows the customers to delude themselves they have more ability to control the future than they actually do.

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The hidden truth about interest rates

The prize for journalistic innovation of 2012 must surely go to whoever thought of a way to turn a cut in the official interest rate from good news to (the much more valuable) bad news: abandon the media's eternal assumption that everyone's a borrower and let the grey-power lobby bang on about the evils of lower deposit rates.


It's such an improvement on the standard good-into-bad transformation: bleating about the greedy banks not passing on all the rate cut to people with mortgages.

If we keep down this track we can turn all rate stories into bad news: as Reserve Bank board meetings approach you hold the mike up to all the professional urgers predicting death to the economy if rates aren't cut. Then, when the Reserve obliges, you pass the mike to whingeing oldies.

I suppose it's a good thing for the media to discover at long last that interest rates are a two-way street; that though borrowers gain from lower rates, savers lose. And that there are actually a lot more savers than borrowers.

There's just one problem with the newly fashionable bleeding for retired depositors: it doesn't necessarily follow that a cut in the banks' interest rates for people with home loans leads to similar cuts in rates paid to depositors - a point the grey-power lobby didn't bother making clear to a newly sympathetic media.

There are probably few more underreported topics than what's happening to deposit rates. The banks don't mention them in their press releases announcing cuts for borrowers, and the media rarely press the banks to be more forthcoming.

But even if some of the big four banks shave their deposit rates, I doubt they all will. And those that do are not likely to cut them by as much as the 20 basis points they're lopping off mortgage rates.

Why not? Well, if the media had been reporting the whole affair conscientiously, rather than turning it into a comic-book contest between good guys and bad guys, ripoff merchants and impoverished victims, you'd already know why.

The reason the banks haven't been cutting deposit rates the way they've been cutting mortgage rates goes to the heart of their reason for not passing on official rate cuts in full. Since the onset of the global financial crisis in 2008, the banks have been locked in a battle to attract deposits from ordinary Australian savers.

This battle has forced up the rates being paid to depositors. Whereas before the crisis the rates on at-call savings accounts were about 100 basis points below the official interest rate, today they're on par with it. And whereas term-deposit "specials" were below the equivalent rates paid in the wholesale market (bank bills), today they're about 150 basis points above them.

So, savers ought to be the last people complaining about the way events have transpired since the financial crisis changed the rules of the game. They're laughing all the way to the bank.

Indeed, the higher rates being paid to depositors (relative to where the official rate happens to be), are by far the greatest reason the banks have been imposing "unofficial" rate rises on home (and business) borrowers and now are passing on only about 80 per cent of the official rate cuts. The lesser reason is the higher rates they have to pay on their foreign "wholesale" borrowings.

In other words, it's not the banks that are supposedly ripping off poor home buyers, it's the whingeing retirees. The banks' cost of borrowing has increased, and all they've done is pass the higher cost on by cutting mortgage rates by less than the fall in the official rate.

But that doesn't give people with mortgages a licence to feel hard done by. Why not? Because, as the Reserve's deputy governor, Dr Philip Lowe, reminded us yet again last week, the Reserve has cut the official rate by more than it would have, just to ensure home buyers get the desired degree of rate relief. They haven't been short-changed.

On the face of it, the banks have done nothing wrong. They've merely passed on their higher cost of borrowing, leaving their "net interest margin" (the gap between the average rate they charge and the average rate they pay for funds) at about 230 basis points, virtually unchanged from what it was immediately before the crisis.

But it's not that simple. The question we need to ask is the one the media rarely do: why has the banks' cost of borrowing risen so much since the crisis? And why has a deposit-seeking war broken out among them?

Short answer: because the crisis revealed them to be dangerously dependent on foreign wholesale borrowing for their funds. So, the sharemarket and the credit rating agencies have forced them to lift their reliance on "stickier" retail deposits to about 54 per cent of their total funding.

But this means running a bank is now less risky than it was before the crisis. This, in turn, means their risk-adjusted rate of return on capital no longer needs to be as high as it was.

So, the degree of competition among the banks is sufficient to force them to give depositors a much better deal, and sufficient to have them wanting to preserve their profitability (and their chief executives' remuneration packages) relative to the others, but insufficient to force down their rates of return the way the textbook says should happen.

In all the millions of angry words the media have spilt on the topic this year, the hidden truth is that home borrowers have little to complain about and depositors even less - save for the small truth that our banks remain far more profitable than they need to be.

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