Labor will struggle with deficit and debt until it raises taxes

There’s something strange about last week’s federal budget. It reveals remarkably quick progress in getting the budget deficit down to nearly nothing. But then it sees the deficit going back up again. Which shows that, as my former fellow economics editor Tim Colebatch has put it, Rome wasn’t built in one budget.

Let’s look at the figures before explaining how they came about. The previous, Coalition government finally got the budget back to balance in the last full financial year before the arrival of the pandemic, 2018-19.

The government’s big spending and tax breaks in response to COVID’s arrival in the second half of the following year, 2019-20, saw the budget back in deficit to the tune of $85 billion. Next year’s deficit was even higher at $134 billion.

But in the year that ended soon after the change of government in May, 2021-22, the deficit fell to just $32 billion. And in last week’s second go at the budget for this year, 2022-23, the deficit is expected to be little changed at $37 billion – which would be $41 billion less than what Scott Morrison was expecting at the time of the election six months ago.

But the changes in these dollar figures don’t tell us much as comparing the size of the deficit with the size of the economy (nominal gross domestic product) in the same year. Judging it this way allows for the effect of inflation and for growth in the population.

So, relative to GDP, the budget deficit has gone from zero in 2018-19, to 4.3 per cent, then a peak of 6.5 per cent in 2020-21, then crashed down to just 1.4 per cent last financial year. This year’s deficit is now expected to be little changed at 1.5 per cent.

We all know why the deficit blew out the way it did, but why did it come back down so quickly?

Three main reasons. The biggest is that it happened by design. All the pandemic-related measures were temporary. As soon as possible, they were ended.

But also: the rise in world fossil fuel prices caused by the war in Europe produced a huge surge tax collections from our mining companies. Last week’s budget announced the new government’s decision to use almost all of this windfall to reduce the deficit.

And last week we learnt the government had also decided to keep a very tight rein on government spending. It introduced all the new spending programs it promised at the election, but cut back the previous government’s programs to largely cover the cost of the new ones.

Its frugality had one objective: to help the Reserve Bank reduce inflation by first using higher interest rates to reduce people’s demand for goods and services.

Keeping the deficit low for another year has, Treasurer Jim Chalmers said this week, changed the “stance” of fiscal (budgetary) policy to “broadly neutral” - neither expansionary nor contractionary. Which, he’s sure to be hoping, will mean the Reserve has to raise interest rates by less than would have.

Another benefit of his decision not to spend the tax windfall, Chalmers said this week, is that by June next year, the government’s gross debt will be $50 billion lower than it would have been. And, according to Treasury’s calculations, this reduction means a saving of $47 billion on interest payments over the decade to 2033.

Great. Wonderful. Except for the strange bit: two years after this financial year, the budget deficit is expected to have gone back up to $51 billion, or 2 per cent of GDP.

What’s more, the budget’s “medium-term projections” foresee the deficit stuck at about 2 per cent each year – or $50 billion in today’s dollars – for the following eight years to 2032-33.

In the first budget for this year, just before the election, the deficit was projected to have fallen slowly to 0.7 per cent of GDP by 2033. Now, no progress is expected. Which means, of course, that the amount of public debt we end up with will be higher than expected during the election campaign.

The gross public debt is now not expected to reach a plateau, of about 47 per cent of GDP, until the first few years of the 2030s.

So, if the budget deficits last year and this are so much better than we were expecting just seven months ago, why on earth are the last eight years of the medium term now expected to be significantly worse?

Three main reasons. First, because a new actuarial assessment of the future cost of the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) shows the cost growing much faster than previously thought.

Second, because, with world interest rates having risen so much this year, the interest bill on the public debt is now projected to be much bigger over the coming decade.

Third, because the previous government based its projections on the assumption that the productivity of labour would improve at the quite unrealistic average rate of 1.5 per cent a year, but Chalmers has cut this to a more realistic 1.2 per cent. This change reduces government revenue by more than it reduces government spending.

What this exercise reveals is that the “persistent structural deficit” earlier projections told us to expect, will actually be worse than we were told. The deficit won’t go away but, on present policies, will stay too high every year for as far as the eye can see.

Fortunately, Chalmers freely admits that present policies will have to be changed. “While this budget has begun the critical task of budget repair, further work will be required in future budgets to rebuild fiscal buffers [ready for the next recession] and manage growing cost pressures”.

He repeated this week his view that, as a country, we need to “have a conversation about what we can afford and what we can’t” - his way of breaking it gently that, if the structural deficit is to be removed, taxes will have to rise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Budget will reduce need for increases in interest rates

When the economy’s needs have switched from stimulus to restraint, it helps to get in new economic managers, who can reverse their predecessors’ direction with zeal rather than embarrassment.

The need for economic policy to change course became clear only during this year’s election campaign, when the Reserve Bank’s concern about rapidly rising inflation prompted it to make the first of many rises in the official interest rate.

So this week’s second go at a budget for the present financial year was needed not just to accommodate a new government with different policies and preferences, but to change the budget’s direction from push-forward, to pull-back.

In just those few months, we changed from “gee, aren’t we roaring along” to “gosh, we better slow down quick”. One moment we’re seeing how low we can get the rate of unemployment, the next we’re jacking up interest rates in a struggle to get inflation down.

A drawback of living in a market economy is that it moves through a “business cycle” of alternating boom and bust. The role of the economic managers is to “stabilise” – or smooth out - the demand for goods and services, cutting off the peaks and filling in the troughs.

The problem with booms is that as demand (spending) starts running ahead of supply (production), it pushes up prices and the inflation rate. The problem with troughs is that as demand falls behind supply, businesses start sacking workers and unemployment rises.

The macro managers use two “instruments” to smooth the cycle’s ups and downs: the budget (“fiscal policy”) and interest rates (“monetary policy”).

With the budget, they increase government spending and cut taxes to add to demand and so reduce unemployment. They cut government spending and increase taxes to reduce demand and so reduce the rate of inflation.

With interest rates, the Reserve Bank cuts them to encourage borrowing and spending by households, so as to reduce unemployment. It increases them to discourage borrowing and spending by households and so reduce inflation.

So, which of the two policy levers should you use?

A new conventional wisdom has emerged among top American academic economists that, because of the two levers’ contrasting strengths and weaknesses – and because interest rates are so much closer to zero than they used to be - you should use fiscal policy to boost demand, but monetary policy to hold it back.

This more discriminating approach has yet to become the accepted wisdom, however. The old wisdom is that monetary policy is the better tool to use for both stimulus and restriction.

The budget’s “automatic stabilisers” (mainly bracket creep and unemployment benefits) should be free to help monetary policy in its “counter-cyclical” role, but discretionary, politician-caused changes in government spending and taxes should be used only in emergencies, such as recessions.

So expansionary fiscal policy did much of the heavy lifting during the pandemic – hence the huge budget deficits and addition to government debt.

But now the Reserve and monetary policy have taken the lead in slowing demand within Australia, so it doesn’t add to the higher prices we’re importing from abroad, thanks to the pandemic-caused supply chain disruptions and the Russian-war-caused leap in fuel prices.

The conventional wisdom also says that, whatever you do, never have the two policy tools pulling in opposite directions rather than together.

If you’re mad enough to have the budget strengthening demand when the independent central bank wants it to weaken, all you do is prompt the bankers to lift interest rates that much higher. This is the “monetary policy reaction function”. One way of saying the central bankers always have the trump card.

Which brings us to this week’s budget redux. How did Treasurer Jim Chalmers play his cards? He did what he thought he could to get the budget deficit as low as possible and so back up monetary policy’s efforts to reduce demand. He’s no doubt hoping this will reduce the need for many more interest-rate increases.

First, Finance Minister Katy Gallagher hacked away at the Morrison government’s new spending programs, so that Labor’s promised new spending could take their place with little net addition to expected government spending over this financial year and the following three.

This wasn’t particularly hard because most of the Coalition’s plans were politically driven, and most hadn’t got going before government changed hands in May.

Second, the same attack on Ukraine that’s causing household electricity and gas bills to rocket has also caused the profits of Australian gas and coal exporters to rocket, along with their company tax bills.

As well, the Coalition’s success in getting employment up and unemployment down has caused a surge in income tax collections.

This huge boost to government revenue isn’t expected to last, so Chalmers has decided to “bank” almost all of it rather than spend it. That is, use it to reduce the budget deficit.

The budget in March expected a budget deficit for the year to this June of $80 billion. Thanks mainly to the tax windfall, it came in at $32 billion, a huge improvement, equivalent to more than 2 per cent of gross domestic product.

The deficit for this year was expected to be $78 billion, but now $37 billion is expected, an improvement of almost 2 per cent of GDP. Next financial year, 2023-24, has gone from $57 billion to $44 billion.

So, the budget deficit is expected to fall continuously from a peak of $134 billion (6.5 per cent of GDP) in 2020-21 to $37 billion (1.5 per cent) this financial year.

That’s enough to convince me the “stance” of fiscal policy is now restrictive. I reckon it’s also enough to convince Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe that fiscal policy is co-operating in the effort to restrain demand and control inflation.

One small problem. After this year, the deficit’s projected to start drifting back up, and stay at about 2 per cent of GDP until at least 2032-33.

Oh dear. Why? Tell you next week.

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Join the dots: your taxes are heading up, not down

Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ “solid and sensible” budget is not so much good or bad as incomplete. It hints at “hard decisions” to be made but doesn’t make them. It tells us times are tough and getting tougher – which we already knew. What we don’t know is what the government plans to do about it. We were told some things, but one big gap remains.

Chalmers said the budget’s priority was to provide cost-of-living relief. No, not directly – its true focus is on reducing the budget deficit so that the Reserve Bank won’t have to raise interest rates as much to control inflation.

But the big fall in this year’s deficit – made possible by the greater tax revenue from higher export prices – isn’t expected to stop the deficit rising the following year.

And although the budget does include measures that will cut costs for some families – for childcare and prescriptions – these are election promises, not newly announced moves.

The budget’s biggest bad news is that the cost-of-living squeeze is now expected to continue for another two years, with price rises continuing to outpace wage rises. And even when the squeeze stops, real (inflation-adjusted) wages will be a lot lower than they were before the pandemic.

Strangely, the budget’s best news is that the economy’s rate of growth is forecast to slow to just 1.5 per cent in the year to June 2024.

What sounds bad is good when you remember the growing likelihood of a global recession. While most rich economies will go backwards, we should only slow down. Our rate of unemployment is predicted to rise just a bit from its near 50-year low.

World recessions mean we earn less from our exports. They don’t necessarily drag us into recession, as our earlier run of almost 30 years without a recession demonstrates.

Still, a forecast is only a forecast, not a guarantee. The main factor determining if we too end up with negative growth will be whether, in its efforts slow the rate of inflation, the Reserve Bank accidentally raises interest rates more than needed.

This is the BNPL budget – buy now, pay later. Labor bought an easy return to government by promising lots more spending on better government services, while also promising not to increase any taxes – apart from on wicked multinationals – and not to interfere with the already legislated stage three income tax cuts, due in July 2024.

This budget is Labor’s payment for the election it bought. But, as with BNPL schemes, payment comes in four instalments. This is just the first of the four budgets the government expects to deliver before the next election.

Chalmers says it’s “a beginning of the long task of budget repair, not the final destination”.

True. Another way to put it is that this is only the start of his Dance of the Four Veils. In the end, all will be revealed. But right now, we’ve been shown little.

Chalmers keeps saying he wants to “start a conversation” about what services we want government to provide, and how we should pay for them.

A few weeks ago, he got the conversation going by entertaining whether, in the light of all that’s transpired, the stage three tax cuts are still appropriate.

But his boss Anthony Albanese quickly closed the conversation down. No decision had been made to change the cuts, he said firmly.

Since the cuts aren’t due for 20 months, there’s no need for any decision to be announced in this budget, or in next May’s budget. Indeed, any decision could be held off until the third veil is removed in May 2024.

Albanese is waiting and manoeuvring until time and circumstance have convinced us it would be better for the promise to be broken. He’d like people marching the streets with banners demanding the tax cut be dropped.

Those hugely expensive and unfair tax cuts would be so counterproductive to all the problems Chalmers is grappling with, I don’t doubt that at a propitious time, a decision to reduce them will be unveiled.

This will set the stage for the final unveiling of the government’s plan to increase taxes after the next election.

Why am I so sure? Because everything the government is doing and saying points to the need for taxes to go up, not down.

Finance Minister Katy Gallagher has slashed away at the Morrison government’s spending on “rorts and waste”, to make room for Labor’s spending promises – not all of which escape a similar label.

But she has also exposed the way her predecessors were holding back spending on aged care, health, education and much else. Add the National Disability Insurance Scheme, defence, and the interest bill, and you see that strong spending growth in coming years will be unavoidable.

Except for the government’s reticence on tax issues, Chalmers is justified in his repeated claim that this is a “responsible” budget. His more debatable claim is that the budget’s first priority was to provide cost-of-living relief.

That claim came with a heavy qualification: that relief had to be “responsible, not reckless … without adding to inflation”. Yes, the adults are back in charge of the budget.

But the government reticence on tax issues is a big exception to its record on responsible budgeting. The huge increases in gas and electricity prices – mostly collateral damage from Russia’s war on Ukraine – that will do most to continue the cost-of-living squeeze on families this year and next are counterbalanced by the massively increased profits of our exporters of fossil fuel.

Labor’s irresponsible election promise to bind its hands on tax changes has stopped it giving hard-pressed households the consolation of seeing most of those windfall profits taxed, and so returned to other taxpayers for use on more deserving causes.

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Monetary policy is no longer fit for purpose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Welcome to the job, Treasurer. Rather you than me

Very occasionally, some poor misguided letter-writer suggests to my boss that I’d make a better treasurer than the incumbent. I’m flattered, of course, but it’s never been a job I’ve lusted after. Nor do I delude myself I’d be much good at it. And that goes double for the present incumbent, Jim Chalmers.

I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes (especially not with people like that grumpy old bugger Gittins offering a critique of my every move).

When, within days of taking up the job, Chalmers declared the budget situation was “dire”, people thought he was just softening us up. But I suspect it had finally dawned on him (with a little help from his new treasury advisers) just what an unhygienic sandwich he’d promised to eat: the more so because he’d played his own part in making such a meal of it.

Chalmers’ problem comes in two parts. First, he inherited an almighty mess from Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg. They hadn’t exactly tidied the place up before leaving.

Justifiably, they’d racked up huge additional government debt to tide us through the worst of the pandemic, and now the economy was growing strongly. But they were still looking at a decade or more of budget deficits continuing to increase the debt.

It was a problem they’d think about when and if they were re-elected. Meanwhile, nothing mattered more that avoiding doing anything that could cost them votes.

All this we knew before the election. What was less obvious were the many stopgap measures they’d used to hold back the growth in government spending, building up a dam that would inevitably burst.

The stopgaps included making oldies wait many months for a homecare package, making people wait months for a visa, keeping the unemployed below the poverty line and thinking of excuses to suspend their payments.

And that’s before you get to the various, hugely expensive problems with the National Disability Insurance Scheme – problems that can’t be solved by telling the disabled to like it or lump it.

The Morrison government’s projections of continuing budget deficits assume those dams will never overflow. Much of the deficit is explained by the continuing cost of the Morrison government’s already legislated stage-three tax cut in July 2024, which the Parliamentary Budget Office now estimates will have added almost a quarter of a trillion dollars to our deficit and debt by 2032-33.

The second element of Chalmers’ budget problem is that, as part of its small-target strategy for finally winning an election, Labor promised never to do anything anyone anywhere would ever dislike.

When it came to the budget, while banging on about our trillion-dollar debt, they painted themselves into a corner by promising not to do what they’d need to do to stop adding to it. Not to rescind the stage-three tax cut, nor do anything else to increase taxes apart from a tax on multinational companies. (Talk about pie in the sky: make the wicked foreigners pay their fair whack and all our problems are solved without any pain.)

In theory, eliminating the budget deficit is easy. Just slash government spending to fit. All you’d have to do is, say, suspend indexation of the age pension, or cut grants to the states’ public hospitals and schools (while taking care not to touch private hospitals and schools).

In practice, making cuts sufficient to fill the gap is politically impossible. It’s true the government is busy reviewing all their predecessor’s spending, looking for waste and extravagance. But all that’s likely to achieve is to make room for their own new spending promises.

As several former top econocrats have told me, what’s needed to eliminate the deficit is to increase tax collections by about 4 per cent of gross domestic product – about $90 billion a year. See what I mean about Labor boxing itself in?

One thing that wasn’t clear before the election was the full extent of our problem with inflation, even though the Reserve Bank did increase interest rates a fraction during the campaign.

It’s made the need to reduce the budget deficit more pressing because the more the government reduces its own stimulus of the economy, the less the Reserve has to increase interest rates to get inflation down.

And the less rates rise, the less the risk that – as has happened so often in the past – the Reserve’s efforts to reduce inflation send us into recession. One of the side-effects of recession would be to increase deficit and debt greatly.

After his “dire” remark, I expected to see Chalmers edging quietly towards a door marked Sorry About That, and preparing a Keynes-like speech about how “when the facts change, I change my promises”.

But so far, he seems still to be painting himself into the corner. Apparently, keeping promises, no matter how ill-judged and overtaken by events, is more important to Labor than managing the economy well or even avoiding becoming a one-term government.

I’d never seen Chalmers and his boss as martyrs to the cause of Unbroken Promises.

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Housing own goal worsens our inflation problem

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Inflation psychology: firms charge what they can get away with

Economists think inflation is all about economics. What they don’t know is that it’s also about psychology. But Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe shows a glimmer of understanding when he refers not to “inflation expectations” but to “inflation psychology”.

Notorious for their “physics envy” – where the world works according to known and unchanging laws, so everything can be reduced to mathematical calculation – economists think changes in prices are determined by the interaction of the “laws” of supply and demand.

This is true, but far from the whole truth. Especially for the prices set in the jobs market – aka wages – where this simple “neoclassical” analysis almost always gives wrong answers.

Economists’ first attempt at a less mechanical approach to the relatively modern problem of inflation – a continuing rise in the general level of prices – came from Milton Friedman and another Nobel laureate’s realisation of the important role played by people’s expectations about what will happen to the inflation rate.

If it worsens significantly and this leads enough people to expect it to stay high or go higher, their expectations may lead to the higher rate becoming entrenched via a “wage-price spiral”.

That is, expectations of higher inflation tend to be self-fulfilling because people act on their expectations. If businesses expect higher price rises generally, they adjust their own prices accordingly. And workers and their unions adjust their own wage demands accordingly.

When last the rich world had a big inflation problem, in the second half of the 1970s and much of the ’80s, this theory seemed to work well, though it took years for expectations to worsen. Then it took years of keeping interest rates high and demand weak, and getting actual inflation down below 3 per cent, before expected inflation came back down.

The inflation target, of 2 to 3 per cent on average, was set in the mid-90s to help “anchor” expectations at an acceptable level.

All this is why the latest leap in inflation has led some economists to worry that, if expectations become “unanchored”, inflation may become entrenched at a much higher level.

This fear explains why many are anxious to use higher interest rates to get actual inflation back down ASAP. If falling real wages help to speed the process, so much the better.

Two small problems with this. For a start, there’s little evidence – either here or in the other rich economies – that expectations have moved up. Sensibly, everyone expects that, before too long, the inflation rate will go back to being a lot lower.

In the real world of price-setting by firms and workers, it takes a lot longer for expectations to shift prices than it does for prices in share and other financial markets to bounce around.

But the deeper reason worries about worsening expectations are misplaced is that, since this theory became so influential in the ’70s, the mechanism by which the expected inflation rate becomes the actual rate has broken down.

Businesses retain the ability to raise their prices when they decide to – and to discount those prices should they discover they’ve pushed it too far and are losing sales - but organised workers have largely lost their ability to force employers to grant higher pay rises.

If you doubt that, ask yourself why the number of days lost to strikes is now the tiniest fraction of what it was in the ’70s. We’ve seen a little strike action lately, but it’s coming almost wholly from workers in the public sector – the main part of the workforce that’s still heavily unionised.

But the breakdown of the inflation-expectations theory and the “wage-price spiral” as explanations of the relatively modern phenomenon of inflation – a continuing rise in the general level of prices – leaves us looking elsewhere for explanations.

A big part of it is the message those economists who specialise in studying competition have to give financial economists such as Lowe: you don’t seem to realise that our modern oligopolised economy gives many big businesses a lot of power over the prices they’re able to charge.

Oligopoly is about the few huge firms dominating a particular market reaching a tacit agreement to keep prices high and stable, and limit their competition for market-share to non-price areas such as product differentiation and marketing.

As former competition czar Rod Sims has pointed out, this greatly reduces the ability of higher interest rates to influence prices in many big slabs of the economy.

But if many big businesses can improve their profitability by deciding to raise their prices, why did they wait until only a year ago to decide to start whacking up them up? Because it ain’t that simple.

All firms would like to raise their prices all the time. What stops them is the knowledge that they can’t charge more than “what the market will bear”. They worry about two things: what will my competitors do? And what will my customers do?

When there’s a big rise in input costs, the knowledge that all my competitors are facing the same cost increase gives me confidence we’ll all be passing it through to the customer at the same time.

That’s why it was the sudden, large and widespread increase in the cost of imported inputs caused by the pandemic and the Ukraine war that started the latest bout of prices rises at the retail level.

But, as Lowe keeps saying, the supply chain cost increases don’t explain all the rise in retail prices. He makes the obvious point that firms find it easier to raise their prices at a time when demand is strong and people are spending. His interest-rate rises are intended to stop demand being so strong and conducive to price rises.

But the less obvious point – especially to people mesmerised by the neoclassical way of thinking – is the role of psychology. I’ve got a great justification for increasing my prices, but no one’s counting. If my costs have risen by 5 per cent, but I increase my prices by 6 per cent, who’s to know?

Sims reminds us that this is just the way firms with pricing power behave. They raise their prices and profits in ways that aren’t easy for their customers to notice.

That covers big business. In the main, small businesses don’t have much pricing power. But “what the market will bear” is greater when the media has spent months softening up their customers with incessant talk about inflation and how high prices will go.

Lowe can’t say it, but it’s not uncooperative workers that are his problem, it’s businesses using the chance to slip in a little extra for themselves.

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Our hidden inflation problem: business has too much pricing power

Why is Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe so worried about getting inflation down when so much of the rise in prices comes from foreign supply constraints that will eventually go away, and so much of the rise won’t be passed on to workers in higher wages?

Because what he can’t admit is that inflation won’t fall back to the target range of 2 to 3 per cent until the nation’s businesses decide to moderate their price rises. And they’re not likely to do that until those rises reach the point where they’re driving away customers.

It’s said that using monetary policy (higher interest rates) to control inflation is a “blunt instrument”. The only way to discourage businesses from raising their prices is to get to their customers’ wallets - by cutting real wages, increasing mortgage payments and having falling house prices make them feel less wealthy.

When explaining problems in the economy, economists use two favourite analytical tools. First, determine how much of the problem is coming from the supply (production) side of the economy, and how much from the demand (spending) side.

Second, determine whether the problem is “cyclical” or “structural”. That is, has it been caused by the temporary ups and downs of the business cycle, or by longer-lasting changes in the economy’s structure – the way it works.

I’ve argued that most of the surge in prices has come from the supply side: a horrible coincidence of supply disruptions caused by the pandemic, the Ukraine war, and even climate change.

This matters because monetary policy can do nothing to fix disruptions to supply. All it can ever do is batter down demand.

It’s true, however, that this main, supply-side problem has been worsened by the effect of strong, government-stimulated demand for goods as services.

As for the cyclical-versus-structural distinction, it’s relevant because, as Lowe never tires of reminding us, monetary policy is capable of dealing only with cyclical problems. Its role is to smooth the ups and downs in demand as the economy moves through the business cycle.

But here’s the problem: higher interest rates aren’t working to reduce inflation the way they used to because of changes in the structure of the economy.

In particular, employees and their unions now have less power to insist on wage rises sufficient to keep up with price rises than they did when last we had a big inflation problem. But big business now has more power to raise its prices.

Partly because globalisation has moved much manufacturing from the high-wage advanced economies to China and other low-wage economies, and partly because of the decentralisation and deregulation of wage-fixing and the decline in union membership, most workers pretty much have to accept whatever inadequate pay rise their chief executive (or premier) chooses to give them.

This is why all the concern about inflation expectations becoming “unanchored” is so silly. Businesses have the power to act on their expectations of higher inflation, but workers no longer do.

This is why the rate of unemployment can fall far below what economists, using data going back decades, estimate to be the NAIRU - “non-accelerating-inflation” rate of unemployment - without wage inflation accelerating.

When thinking about inflation, macroeconomists – including Lowe, I suspect - often assume our markets are competitive, and that the markets for all goods and services are equally competitive.

But as Rod Sims, former chair of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, and now a professor at the Australian National University, has written, markets in Australia are generally far from strongly competitive.

“Many sectors ... are dominated by just a few firms – think beer, groceries, energy and telecommunications retailing, resources, elements of the digital economy, banking and many others,” Sims says.

“This means the dominant firms have some degree of market power. That is, they can set prices at higher levels knowing competitors are unlikely to undercut them and take market share from them.

“When there is high inflation, dominant firms often realise they can increase prices above any cost rises because consumers will be more accepting of this. They will often do this subtly over time.”

In concentrated markets, firms can also easily see the effects on their few competitors, and they can watch and follow each other’s behaviour. They are confident that none will break ranks on price rises because there are benefits to be had by all.

Firms with market and pricing power are also less likely to restrain prices in response to interest rate rises, Sims says. This is because it’s not competition, but dominant-firm behaviour, that’s driving pricing decisions.

As well, market power is usually associated with reduced production capacity. How often do we see reductions in combined capacity following a merger of two competitors? When demand increases, there’s then less capacity available to serve it, so we see prices rise more than they otherwise would have.

What all this means is that it may take longer for interest rates to work to slow inflation, so patience may be needed rather than further increases. And, Sims says, there could be a role for publicly exposing high margins, to put pressure on to reduce them.

Another point he makes is that this inflation owes much to price shocks in the key, highly regulated gas and electricity industries. In these cases, the best answer is to make their regulation more anti-inflationary, not just jack up interest rates further.

The micro-economic reforms of the Hawke-Keating government have made our economy much less inflation-prone than it was in the days when inflation was last a major problem.

Meanwhile, however, we’ve allowed the pricing power of big firms to grow as successive governments of both colours have resisted pressure from people like Sims to tighten our merger law, and state governments have maximised the sale price of their electricity businesses by selling them to business interests intent on turning the national electricity market into a three-firm vertically integrated oligopoly. Well done, guys.

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We're struggling with inflation because we misread the pandemic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Why interest rates are going up, and won't be coming down

It’s time we had a serious talk about interest rates. And, while we’re at it, inflation. Someone in my job knows it’s time to talk turkey when the man in charge of rates, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe, decides to go on the ABC’s 7.30 program to talk about both.

There’s much to talk about. Why are interest rates of such interest to so many (sorry)? Why do some people hate them going up and some love it? How do interest rates and the inflation rate fit together? Why do central banks such as our Reserve keep moving them up and down? When rates go up, they normally come back down – so why won't that happen this time?

Starting with the basics, interest is the price or fee that someone who wants to borrow money for a period has to pay to someone who has money they’re prepared to lend – for a fee.

Legally, the “person” you’ve borrowed from is usually a bank, while the person with savings to lend deposits them with a bank. But economists see banks as just “intermediaries” that bring borrowers on one side together with ordinary savers on the other.

The bank charges borrowers a higher interest rate than it pays its depositors. The difference reflects the bank’s reward for bringing the two sides together, but also the risk the bank is running that the borrower won’t repay the debt, leaving the bank liable to repay the depositor.

You see from this that interest is an expense to borrowers, but income to savers. This is why there’s so much arguing over interest rates. Borrowers hate to see them rise, but savers hate to see them fall. (The media conceal this two-sided relationship by almost always treating rate rises as bad.)

Now we get to inflation. Economists think of interest rates as having two components. The first is the compensation that the borrower must pay the saver for the loss in the purchasing power of their money while it’s in the borrower’s hands. The second part is the “real” or after-inflation interest rate that the borrower must pay the saver for giving up the use of their own money for a period.

This implies that the level of interest rates should roughly rise and fall in line with the ups and downs in the rate of inflation – the annual rate at which the prices consumers pay for goods and services (but not for assets such as shares or houses) are rising.

This explains why, when the inflation rate was way above 5 per cent throughout the 1970s and ’80s, interest rates were far higher than they’ve been since.

Now it gets tricky. Central banks have the ability to control variable interest rates by manipulating what’s known confusingly as the “overnight cash rate”. This “official” interest rate forms the base for all the other (higher) interest rates we pay or receive.

The Reserve Bank uses its control over this base interest rate to smooth the ups and downs in the economy, trying to keep both inflation and unemployment low.

When it thinks our demand for goods and services is too weak and is worsening unemployment, it cuts interest rates to encourage borrowing and spending. When it thinks our demand is too strong and is worsening inflation, it raises interest rates to discourage borrowing and spending.

The pandemic and the consequent “coronacession” caused the Reserve (and all the other rich-country central banks) to cut the official interest rate almost to zero.

The economy has bounced back from the lockdowns and is now growing strongly, with very low unemployment and many vacant jobs. But now we’ve been hit by big price rises from overseas, the result of supply bottlenecks caused by the pandemic and a leap in oil and gas prices caused by the war on Ukraine, plus the effect of climate change on local meat and vegetable prices.

As Lowe explained to Leigh Sales on 7.30, these are once-only price rises and, although he expects the inflation rate to reach 7 per cent by the end of this year, it should then start falling back toward the Reserve’s target inflation rate of 2 to 3 per cent.

His worry is that the economy’s capacity to produce all the goods and services being demanded is close to running out – and already has in housing and construction. This raises the risk that the rate of growth in prices won’t fall back as soon as it should.

This is why Lowe’s started raising the official interest rate from its pandemic “emergency setting” near zero – zero! – to a “more normal setting”. Such as? To more like 2.5 per cent, he told Sales.

Why 2.5 per cent? Because that’s the mid-point of his inflation target.

Get it? Interest rates are supposed to cover expected inflation plus a bit more. Once Lowe’s able to get them back up to that level without causing a recession, they won’t be coming back down until the next pandemic-sized emergency.

A base interest rate of zero was never going to be the new normal. The nation’s saving grandparents would never cop it.

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Treasury boss’s message: higher taxes the cure for debt and deficit

Anthony Albanese and his Treasurer, Dr Jim Chalmers, have inherited many problems that won’t be solved quickly or easily. Nor will they be solved without the new government being willing to persuade voters to accept the sort of tax changes no pollie wants to talk about in an election campaign.

That’s the conclusion I draw from Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy’s belated annual speech to the Australian Business Economists this week.

Election campaigns are times when we hear about all the wonderful things the politicians want to do to improve the public services we get and reduce the taxes we pay. It’s after the election that pollies present the bill.

Especially when the election has changed the government. This wasn’t Chalmers bringing us the bill, it was the waiter reminding us we’d eaten quite a lot and the bill was getting pretty long.

The economic story had “shifted significantly”, Kennedy said. Inflation pressures had emerged faster and more strongly than most people expected. These were likely to persist into next year “at the very least”.

This, of course, is why the Reserve Bank has been raising the official interest rate – to eventually bring inflation back to acceptable levels.

“Interest rates are at near-record low levels and therefore highly accommodative and should normalise”, Kennedy said. In other words, they need to be increased until they’re back to more-normal levels. If so, they have a lot further to go.

But, Kennedy says that “just as fiscal [budgetary] and monetary [interest-rate] policy worked together to respond to the pandemic, they will need to work together in managing the risks to inflation and the economy more broadly”.

Ah yes, the dreaded duo, Debt and Deficit. Not a subject to be dwelt on during election campaigns, but one to return to afterwards. Presenting the bill, remember?

Chalmers is, understandably, anxious to remind us that our trillion-dollar public debt is inherited from his predecessors. What Kennedy does is implicitly confirm that the previous government’s “medium-term fiscal strategy” - to “focus on growing the economy in order to stabilise and reduce debt” - is still the go.

With an important, after-the-election qualification: “a more prudent course would be for the budget to assist more over time”.

How? We’ll get to that. But first, he gave the best explanation I’ve seen of how a government can get on top of a big debt simply by ensuring the economy grows at a faster annual rate than the rate of interest on the debt.

To “get” the explanation you have to accept one proposition that many otherwise sensible people and media commentators can’t get their head around: that the government of a nation is in a radically different position to an individual household.

Households have to repay any money they borrow sooner or later, but governments don’t. That’s because every family gets old and dies, whereas nations are a collection of many millions of households that, though the faces change, goes on forever.

For a nation, what matters is not its ability to repay the debt, but just its ability to afford the interest payments on it. As long as the nation continues to exist, it can re-borrow by issuing a new government bond to replace an old government bond as it falls due for repayment.

Kennedy explained that strong economic growth and interest rates that are low compared with what’s been normal for the past 50 years are likely to ease the burden of the debt. This is by reducing its size not in dollar terms, but relative to the size of the economy, measured by the dollar value of all the goods and services the economy produces annually (nominal gross domestic product) in coming years.

Interest payments add to the amount of debt the nation owes, but growth in the economy (nominal GDP) increases the economy’s capacity to “service” (pay the interest on) that debt. “When the economy grows quicker than the interest payments add to the debt, the debt burden will decrease,” he said.

That’s the basic mechanism all governments in all the rich countries have relied on since World War II to get on top of their debt. It’s what the Morrison government was relying on, and it will be what the Albanese government continues relying on.

But – with Treasury there has to be a but – there was a weakness in the previous government’s strategy: their projections showed the budget remaining in deficit for the next decade and, indeed, the next 40 years.

That means it wasn’t just the interest bill that was adding to the debt each year, it was also the continuing deficits.

“The current projected reduction in the debt [relative] to GDP is unusual in that it is relying solely on favourable growth and interest-rate dynamics [that the average rate of interest on the debt will rise more slowly than the rising rate of interest on the new borrowing because the average government bond takes about seven years to fall due] to reduce the ratio [of debt to GDP],” Kennedy said.

So here’s the post-election But (which, since it’s the same Treasury, would probably have happened even without a change of government): “A more prudent course would be for the budget to assist more, over time,” Kennedy said.

How? By getting the budget deficit down a lot faster than the Liberals were planning to. Maybe even by running budget surpluses for a while – which would involve repaying a bit of the debt.

Sure, but how do you get the deficit down? The government will be reviewing all the spending programs left by the Coalition, looking for savings. But what savings it finds will mainly be used to pay for Labor’s promised new spending.

So the main way to improve the budget balance will be by “raising additional tax revenues”. Kennedy implied that this would be done by reducing businesses’ and households’ tax concessions.

The next three years will be interesting.

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Labor mustn't be panicked into doing something stupid

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Printing money to fund the deficit ain't the free lunch it seems

The new Treasurer, Dr Jim Chalmers, is saying a lot about the trillion-dollar debt he’s just inherited. He’s saying less about the tension between the new government’s plan to “invest” in improving the economy and all the pressure he’ll be under from mainstream economists to reduce the budget deficit and so reduce what Labor will be adding to that debt.

But whenever I write about debt and deficit, I know to expect puzzled or angry pushback from people who’ve read US Professor Stephanie Kelton’s bestseller, The Deficit Myth, or studied “modern monetary theory” (MMT) at university.

Why all this fuss about budget deficits? Who said the shortfall between what a government spends and what it raises in taxes must be covered by borrowing from the public? That’s just a rule someone made up.

Surely the government can avoid ticking up all that debt – with all the interest payments on it – simply by telling the central bank to “create” – some still say “print” – the money the government needs.

After all, all currencies are “fiat” currencies. When a government prints a $50 note, it becomes “legal tender” worth $50 merely because the government says it is. By government decree or fiat.

So why all the fuss about debt and deficit? Just create all the extra money the government needs with the stroke of the central bank’s computer program.

There’s a lot of truth in what the MMT people say. But if you think it all sounds a bit too good to be true, it is. So what’s the problem?

The “monetarists” of the 1970s taught that every time the government adds to the supply of money in circulation it adds to inflation. Not true. We value money because of what we can buy with it. Economists say what you’re buying is “command over real resources” – that is, raw materials, physical capital equipment and labour, often embodied in goods and services, or physical assets, including buildings and land.

Inflation is caused when the demand for real (that is, tangible) resources runs ahead of the supply of real resources, thereby causing prices to rise.

So, even though people spending the money you’ve created will add to the demand for real resources, this won’t cause inflation provided you do it when demand is weak. Only when you reach the point where demand catches up and overtakes supply will you have a problem with inflation.

That’s the purely pragmatic reason most economists disapprove of MMT. Once politicians had the idea they could keep spending without worrying about debt and deficit, how would you get them to stop adding to inflation by continuing to create money rather switching back to borrowing and having to pay interest?

How would you get them to do what Chalmers is doing as we speak: looking at all the spending plans of his Liberal predecessors that aren’t sensible and stopping them, so as to make room for Labor’s own spending plans?

Even so, as the econocrats would prefer me not to point out, the MMT brigade has had a qualified win. As part of the Reserve Bank’s resort to “unconventional” monetary policy during the pandemic – aka “quantitative easing” – it has bought more than $350 billion-worth of second-hand government bonds.

Bonds it paid for merely by crediting the “exchange-settlement accounts” that each of the banks it bought the bonds from has with the central bank.

So indirectly, the Reserve has done what the MMT people say it should have done: covered about $350 billion of budget deficits by creating money.

This means $350 billion of the government’s $1 trillion debt – and the related interest payments - is owed to the Reserve Bank, which just happens to be owned by the government. Roughly a third of the government’s debt is owed to, and must eventually be repaid to, itself.

So, the government’s liability is cancelled out by its subsidiary’s asset. That’s what I wrote a few weeks’ ago, and it’s true. But, as some fossilised central banker explained to me, it’s not the whole truth.

When you trace through all the double-entry bookkeeping, you see that the created money the Reserve paid into the banks’ exchange-settlement accounts in return for the bonds it bought is still sitting there. It’s still a liability on the Reserve’s balance sheet, and an asset on the banks’ balance sheets.

That money is part of what monetary economists call “base money”. Base money consists of all the “currency” – notes and coins – issued by the central bank, plus all the money the banks are holding in their exchange-settlement accounts at the central bank.

And the trick to base money is that its quantity can be changed only by a transaction with either the government or the central bank on the other end of it. That is, nothing anything any person or business or even a bank can do of their own volition can change the quantity of base money.

It’s true that bank A and bank B can do a deal that reduces the balance of bank A’s account – but only by increasing bank B’s balance by the same amount. That is, the banks can move base money around between themselves, but they can’t change the quantity of base money held by the banks as a whole.

OK, but why is this a problem? Because the banks have money they own stuck in bank accounts with the central bank, on which it pays little or no interest. They’d like to lend it to someone else at a much higher interest rate.

So they’re tempted to enter highly contrived, highly risky arbitrage arrangements which involve borrowing short-term and lending long-term. The Yanks call this “picking up dimes in front of a steamroller”.

It’s fine until there’s a financial crisis, which brings down banks and does huge damage to the rest of the economy, as we saw with the global financial crisis of 2008. Yet another case of there being no free lunches.

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Cutting real wages will help inflation, but weaken the economy

At last, as the election campaign reaches the final stretch, we’ve found something worth debating. Anthony Albanese has found his spine and supported a big rise in award wages, while Scott Morrison says a decent rise for the masses is a terrible idea that would damage the economy.

First the politics, then the economics. My guess is history will judge this to be the misstep that did most to cost Morrison the election. Successful Liberal leaders – John Howard, for instance – know never to be caught within cooee of a sign saying “wages should be lowered”. It’s not the way to woo outer-suburbs battlers to the Liberal cause.

That Morrison should defy this precedent in a campaign where the cost of living has become by far the biggest issue is all the more surprising.

Between them, the two contenders have revived and highlighted the oldest stereotype in Australia’s two-party politics: the Labor Party is - surprise, surprise – the party of ordinary workers, and will always champion their interests, whereas the Liberals are the party of business, and will always champion the interests of business.

It’s because the Libs are seen as the bosses’ party that they’re instinctively regarded as better at managing the budget and the economy – a mindset Morrison is desperately seeking to exploit in “these uncertain times”.

But the other side of the penny is that Labor, the party of the workers, is the party that cares, and will spend more on providing government services. Which party’s best at industrial relations and wages? One guess.

But how do the minimum wage arrangements work? And what are the broader economic implications of a rise high enough to cover the 5.1 per cent rise in consumer prices over the year to March - or not high enough, so that wages fall in “real terms”?

The Fair Work Commission conducts an annual wage review to determine the increase in the national minimum wage on July 1. Last year’s increase of 2.5 per cent applied to the 2 per cent of employees on the national minimum rate, but also the 23 per cent of employees whose wage is set by one of the various minimum rates for workers in different job classifications set out in each of the more than 100 industrial awards established by the commission.

The national minimum wage rate is about $20 an hour, or about $40,000 a year for a full-time worker. About 2.7 million workers have their wage set in this way.

A 5 per cent increase in the national minimum wage would be worth about $1 an hour or about $2000 a year. Note, however, that many of those in more skilled award classifications would be earning much more than that.

The rises the industrial parties ask for in hearings before the commission are always “ambit claims”. The Australian Council of Trade Unions wants a rise of 5.5 per cent.

On the employer side, the Australian Industry Group says the most its member businesses could possibly afford is 2.5 per cent. The Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry says the most it could run to is 3 per cent.

Morrison has implied it would be quite improper for a federal Labor government to seek to influence the decision of the independent commission. But the fact is federal and state governments routinely make submissions to provide information about the state of the economy and indicate how generous or tight-fisted they think the commission should be – though they rarely suggest a specific figure.

The commission will give due consideration to a government’s submission but, rest assured, it will do as it sees fit, usually awarding an increase somewhere between the employers’ lowball and the unions’ highball.

My guess is this year’s decision will be a lot higher than last year’s 2.5 per cent, but not nearly as high as 5.5 per cent.

That’s particularly because the commission can be expected to allow for the 0.5 percentage-point increase in employers’ compulsory contributions to their workers’ superannuation accounts this July. The unions would love to have their cake and eat it, but I doubt they’ll be allowed to.

Albanese says, “the idea that people who are doing it really tough at the moment should have a further cut in their cost of living is, in my view, simply untenable”.

Morrison claims a minimum-wage increase sufficient to stop wages falling behind the rise in consumer prices would be “reckless and dangerous”.

The Ai Group warns that “an excessive minimum wage increase would fuel inflation and lead to higher interest rates . . . than would otherwise be the case”. It would be detrimental to economic growth and job creation.

The chamber of commerce says “any increase of 5 per cent or more would inflict further pain on small business, and the millions of jobs they sustain and create. Small business cannot afford it”.

So, what do I think? I think it’s easy to exaggerate the economic cost of giving our lowest-paid workers a decent pay rise. Small business always cries poor and warns jobs will be lost. But there’s little empirical evidence that higher wages lead to job losses.

It’s true that giving a quarter of our workers little or no compensation for the jump in prices caused by pandemic supply disruptions and the Ukraine war would be the quickest and easiest way to get inflation back down to the Reserve Bank’s 2 to 3 per cent target range.

But it would also be hugely unfair to load that burden onto our lowest paid workers, while business profits escaped untouched. The Reserve will just have to be more patient if it doesn’t want to crunch the economy with big rate rises.

And here’s the bit the business lobby groups seem too short-sighted to see. The more we cut the real incomes of our businesses’ customers, the less businesses will be able to sell to them, and the more the economy will be in anything but the “strong” condition Morrison keeps claiming it’s in.

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Our falling real wages will help control inflation

The media always portray an increase in interest rates as terrible news – and it’s hardly surprising that’s how Anthony Albanese sees it – but Scott Morrison is right in saying rising interest rates are a sure sign of a strong economy.

Rates fall or stay low when the economy is weak, but rise when the economy’s strong growth threatens to give us a problem with high and rising inflation – which is where we are now.

One of the main things we want from a strong economy is lots of jobs, which is just what we’ve been getting. So many jobs have been created over the past two years – almost all of them full-time – that the rate of unemployment has fallen to a very low 4 per cent, and the proportion of working-age people with jobs is higher than it’s ever been.

What could be wrong with that? Well, just that the wages people have been earning from all those jobs haven’t been keeping up with the cost of living. Last week’s news that consumer prices rose by a massive 5.1 per cent over the year to March has made that much worse.

If you want to blame Morrison for that, well, he’s actually right in saying most of its causes – supply disruptions arising from the pandemic; high petrol prices caused by Russia’s war on Ukraine – have nothing to do with our government.

But wages have been struggling to keep up with prices for all the time this government’s been in office. There are things it could have been doing to encourage higher wages, but it’s failed to do them. That’s the legitimate criticism of Morrison’s economic management.

Getting back to interest rates, the truth is that a rise in rates cuts both ways. It’s bad news for people with home loans, but good news for older people living on their savings and for young people saving for a deposit on a home.

Did I mention that nothing’s ever black or white in the economy? Almost everything that happens has advantages for some people and disadvantages for others.

But leaving aside whether individuals gain or lose from higher interest rates, where does the jump in prices leave the economy? How much of a worry has inflation become? Will rates have to rise so high they threaten the recovery? Could we even end up back in recession?

This time last week some business economists were sounding pretty panicky. “The inflation genie is well and truly out of the bottle”, some assured us. Others claimed the economy was “overheating” and, since the Reserve Bank had left it so late to start raising rates, they’d have to rise a long way to get inflation back under control.

But when Reserve governor Dr Philip Lowe announced on Tuesday that the official interest rate – aka the “overnight cash rate” – had been increased by 0.25 percentage points to 0.35 per cent, warned that further rises in rates will be needed “over the period ahead”, and explained how he saw the problem and how it could be fixed, many economists seem to have calmed down.

Implicitly, Lowe refuted the claim that the economy was overheating. Even at 5.1 per cent, our inflation rate was lower than the other rich countries’, and our wage growth so far had been much lower.

So the rise in inflation “largely reflects global factors” – that is, not of our making – but “domestic capacity constraints are increasingly playing a role and inflation pressures have broadened, with firms more prepared to pass through cost increases to consumer prices”.

That is, we don’t have as big a problem as that 5 per cent figure could make you think, but the economy’s growing so strongly we could get a problem if we kept interest rates so low.

Many retailers and other firms have gone for years trying to hold down their costs, including by finding ways to save on labour costs, and avoid passing those costs on to customers, but the rise in their pandemic and Ukraine-related costs – plus the media’s incessant talk of rising prices – has emboldened them to start increasing their own prices.

Now, as Lowe explains, even if petrol and pandemic-related costs don’t fall back down, they won’t keep rising. So in time the inflation rate will fall back of its own accord, provided it doesn’t lead to our firms putting their prices up too high and giving their workers pay rises big enough to fully cover their higher living costs.

If that does happen, the once-only rise in prices coming from abroad gets into the wage-price spiral and the inflation rate stays high.

This is why Lowe has started raising the official interest rate and may keep raising it by 0.25 percentage points every month or so until, by the end of next year, it’s up to maybe 2.5 per cent (which, not by chance, is the mid-point of the Reserve’s 2 to 3 per cent inflation target).

Note that, if 2.5 per cent is roughly equal to the “neutral” interest rate - that is, the rate that’s neither expansionary nor restrictive – this would only involve withdrawing the “extraordinary monetary support” put in place to help us through the pandemic. It would take the Reserve’s foot off the accelerator, not jam on the brakes.

According to Lowe’s estimations, the resulting reduction in mortgagees’ disposable income, plus the likelihood that most workers’ wage rises wouldn’t be sufficient to cover the 5 per cent rise in their living costs, thus reducing their wages in real terms, would limit firms’ ability to raise their prices and so help to get the inflation rate back to the top of the 2 to 3 per cent target range by 2024.

The inflation problem fixed, without crashing the economy. Done at the expense of people with home loans and ordinary workers? Yep. No one said using interest rates to control the economy was particularly fair.

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