Business cries poor on wages, even as profits mount

Don’t believe anyone – not even a governor of the Reserve Bank – trying to tell you the Fair Work Commission’s decision to increase minimum award wages by 5.75 per cent is anything other than good news for the lowest-paid quarter of wage earners.

Because they are so low paid, and mainly part-time, these people account for only about 11 per cent of the nation’s total wage bill. So, as the commission says, the pay rise “will make only a modest contribution to total wages growth in 2023-24 and will consequently not cause or contribute to any wage-spiral”.

But that’s not the impression you’d get from all the wailing and gnashing of teeth by the main employer group, the Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry. It claims “an arbitrary increase of this magnitude consigns Australia to high inflation, mounting interest rates and fewer jobs”.

These are the sort of dramatics we get from the Canberra-based employers’ lobby before and after every annual wage review. They lay it on so thick I doubt anyone much believes them.

But it’s worse than that. In the age-old struggle between labour and capital – wages and profits – most economists have decided long ago whose side they’re on, and long ago lost sight of how one-eyed they’ve become.

For a start, many of the talking heads you see on telly work for big businesses. They’re never going to be caught saying nice things about pay rises.

Econocrats working for conservative governments have to watch what they say. And parts of the media have business plans that say: pick a lucrative market segment, then tell ’em what they want to hear.

In my experience, there’s never any shortage of experts willing to fly to the defence of the rich and powerful, in the hope that some of the money comes their way.

But I confess to being shocked in recent times by the way the present Reserve Bank governor, Dr Philip Lowe, has been so willing to take sides. The way he preaches restraint to ordinary workers struggling to cope with the cost of living, but never urges businesses to show restraint in the enthusiasm with which they’ve been whacking up their prices.

It’s true that Lowe has a board that’s been stacked with business people, but that’s been true for all his predecessors, and they were never so openly partisan.

When businesses take advantage of the excessively strong demand that Lowe himself helped to create, that’s just business doing what comes naturally, and must never be questioned, even in an economy characterised by so much oligopoly – big companies with the power to influence the prices they charge.

But when employees unite to demand pay rises at least sufficient to cover the rising cost of living, this is quite illegitimate and to be condemned. The more so when a government agency such as the Fair Work Commission acts to protect the incomes of the poorest workers.

On Friday, the commission set out what has long been the rule for fair and efficient division of the spoils of the market system between labour and capital: “In the medium to long term, it is desirable that modern award minimum wages maintain their real value and increase in line with the trend rate of national productivity growth”.

In other words, wage rises don’t add to inflation unless their growth exceeding inflation exceeds the nationwide (not the particular business’) trend (that is, over a run of years, not just the last couple) rate of growth in the productivity of labour (production per hour worked).

But last week, in his appearance before a Senate committee, Lowe was twisting the rule to suit his case, setting nominal (before taking account of inflation) unit labour costs (labour costs adjusted for productivity improvement) not real unit labour costs as the appropriate measure.

He told the senators that growth in labour costs per unit of 3 or 4 per cent a year was adding to inflation because the past few years had seen no growth in the productivity of labour (which, of course, is the fault of the government, not the businesses doing the production).

This is dishonest. What he was implying was that wage growth should not bear any relationship to what’s happening to prices at the time. Wage growth should be capped at 2.5 per cent a year every year, come hell or high water.

Without any productivity improvement, any wage growth exceeding 2.5 per cent was inflationary. Should the nation’s businesses choose to raise their prices by more than 2.5 per cent, what was best for the economy was for the workers’ wages to fall in real terms.

Now, Lowe is a very smart man, and I’m sure he doesn’t actually believe anything so silly. Like the employer groups, he’s cooked up a convenient argument to help him achieve his KPIs. He sees the inflation rate as his key performance indicator.

He’s got to get it down to the 2 to 3 per cent target range, and get it down quick. He ain’t too worried what shortcuts he takes or who gets hurt in the process.

When he claims that, absent productivity improvement, wage rises far lower than the rate of inflation are themselves inflationary, what he really means is that they make it harder for him to achieve his KPIs.

Clearly, the wage rise that would help him get the inflation rate down fastest is a wage rise of zero. It would plunge the economy into recession, and businesses would have a lot more trouble finding customers, but who cares about that?

It’s not true that sub-inflation-rate pay rises add to inflation. What is true is that the bigger the sub-inflation rise, the longer it takes to get inflation down. But he doesn’t like to say that.

Why’s he in such a hurry he’s happy for ordinary workers to suffer? Because he lies awake at night worrying that, if it takes too long to get inflation down, inflation expectations will rise and a price-wage spiral will become entrenched.

Does Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy also lie awake? Doesn’t seem to. He told the senators last week that “there are no signs of a wage-price spiral developing and medium-term inflation expectations remain well anchored”.

If ever there was a general fighting the last war, it’s Lowe.

Meanwhile, please don’t say business profits seem to be going fine. It may be true, but please don’t say it. Business doesn’t like you saying such offensive things, and business’ media cheer squad goes ape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Our big risk: fix inflation, but kiss goodbye to full employment

If you think getting inflation down is our one big economic worry, you have a cockeyed view of economic success. Unless we can get it under control without returning to the 5 to 6 per cent unemployment rate we lived with in recent decades, we’ll have lost our one great gain from the travails of pandemic: our return to full employment.

And if we do lose it, it will demonstrate the great price Australia paid for its decision in the 1980s to join the international fashion and hand the management of its economy over to the central bankers.

There has always been a tricky trade-off between the twin objectives of low inflation and low unemployment. If our return to full employment proves transitory, it will show what we should have known: that handing the economy over to the central bankers and their urgers in the financial markets was asking for inflation to be given priority at the expense of unemployment.

In his customary post-budget speech to economists last Thursday, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy began by explaining to academic economists why their claim that the budget was inflationary lacked understanding of the intricacies of economics in the real world.

But his strongest message was to remind economists why full employment is a prize not to be lost.

Whereas early in the pandemic it was feared the rate of unemployment would shoot up to 15 per cent and be difficult to get back down, the massive fiscal (budgetary) stimulus let loose saw it rise only to half that, and the remarkable economic rebound saw it fall to its lowest level in almost 50 years.

“This experience is altering our views on full employment,” Kennedy says. “One of the stories of this budget – one that risks being lost – is the virtue of full employment.”

For one thing, near-record low unemployment and a near-record rate of participation in the labour force are adding to demand and to our capacity to supply goods and services.

This time last year, Treasury was expecting a budget deficit of $78 billion in the financial year ending next month. Now it’s expecting a surplus of $4 billion. Various factors explain that improvement, but the greatest is the continuing strength of the labour market.

As I explained last week, this revision has significantly reduced the projected further increase in the public debt and, in consequence, our projected annual interest bill on the debt every year forever. It has thereby significantly reduced our projected "structural" budget deficit although, Kennedy insists, has not eliminated it.

And getting a higher proportion of the working-age population into jobs – and having more of the jobs full-time – improves our prospects for economic growth and prosperity.

There’s no source of economic inefficiency greater than having many people who want to work sitting around doing nothing. And adding to the supply of labour is not, of itself, inflationary.

But let’s not confuse means with ends. The most important benefit of full employment goes not to the budget or even The Economy, but to those people who find the jobs, or increased hours of work, they’ve long been seeking.

Kennedy reminds us that the greatest benefit goes to those who find it hardest to get jobs. While the nationwide unemployment rate has fallen by 1.6 percentage point since before the pandemic, it has fallen by 3.2 percentage points for youth, and by 2.3 percentage points for those with no post-school education.

This is where we get to Kennedy’s observation that recent experience is altering Treasury’s views on full employment.

The obvious question this experience raises is: why have we been willing to settle for unemployment rates of 5 to 6 per cent for so long when, as he acknowledges, “the low rate of unemployment and high levels of participation [in the labour force] have been sustained without generating significant wage pressures”?

Short answer: because economists have allowed themselves to be bamboozled by modelling results. Specifically, by their calculations of the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment” – the NAIRU.

As Kennedy says, the unemployment rate consistent with both full employment and low and stable inflation isn’t something that can be seen and directly measured. So, as with so many other economic concepts, economists run decades of inflation and unemployment data through a mathematical model which estimates a figure.

Economists have redefined full employment to be the 5 or 6 per cent unemployment rate their models of the NAIRU spit out. They think using such modelling results makes decisions about interest rates more rigorous.

But that’s not true if you let using a model tempt you to turn off your brain and stop thinking about whether the many assumptions the model relies on are realistic, and whether more recent changes in the structure of the economy make results based on averaging the past 30 years misleading.

It’s now pretty clear that, at least in recent years, NAIRU models have been setting the rate too high, thus leading the managers of the economy to accept higher unemployment than they should have.

There are at least three things likely to make those modelling results questionable. One is that, as a Reserve Bank official has revealed, the models assume inflation is caused by excessive demand, whereas much of the latest inflation surge has been caused by disruptions to supply.

Professor Jeff Borland, of Melbourne University, points out that the increasing prevalence of under-employment in recent decades makes the models’ focus on unemployment potentially misleading, as does the increasing rate of participation in the labour force.

Third, unduly low unemployment and job shortages are supposed to lead, in the first instance, to wage inflation, not price inflation. But this turns to a great extent on the bargaining power of unionised labour, which many structural factors – globalisation, technological advance, labour market deregulation and the decline in union membership – have weakened.

If the NAIRU models adequately reflect these structural shifts I’d be amazed.

What is clear is that the Reserve Bank’s understanding of contemporary wage-fixing is abysmal. As yet, it has no one on its board with wage-fixing expertise, its extensive consultations with business leaders exclude union leaders, and Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe says little or nothing about wage-fixing arrangements.

And this is despite Lowe’s unceasing worry about the risk of a price-wage spiral and an upward shift in inflation expectations. So far, there’s little evidence of either.

Some increase in unemployment is inevitable as we use the squeeze on households’ disposable income to slow demand and thus the rate at which prices are rising.

But if the Reserve’s undue anxiety about wages and expectations leads it to hit the brakes so hard we drop into recession, and full employment disappears over the horizon, it will be because we handed our economy over to the institution least likely to worry about making sure everyone who wants to work gets a job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How budget spin doctors manipulate our first impressions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All pretty grubby, but true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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RBA inquiry should propose something much better

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The rich world should think twice about 'central bankism'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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How about sharing the economic pain arround?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Central banking: don't mention business pricing power

Despite the grilling he got in two separate parliamentary hearings last week, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s explanation of why he was preparing mortgage borrowers for yet further interest rate increases didn’t quite add up. There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling us – and I think I know what it was.

We know that, as well as rising mortgage payments, we have falling real wages, falling house prices and a weak world economy. So it’s not hard to believe the Reserve’s forecasts that the economy will slow sharply this year and next, unemployment will rise (it already is), and underlying inflation will be back down to the top of the 2 per cent to 3 per cent target range by the end of next year.

So, why is Lowe still so anxious? Because, he says, it’s just so important that the present high rate of inflation doesn’t become “ingrained”. “If inflation does become ingrained in people’s expectations, bringing it back down again is very costly,” he said on Friday.

Why is what people expect to happen to inflation so crucial? Because their expectations about inflation have a tendency to be self-fulfilling.

When businesses expect prices to keep on increasing rapidly, they keep raising their own prices. And when workers and their unions expect further rapid price rises, they keep demanding and receiving big pay rises.

This notion that, once people start expecting the present jump in inflation to persist, it becomes “ingrained” and then can’t be countered without a deep recession has been “ingrained” in the conventional wisdom of macroeconomists since the 1970s.

They call it the “wage-price spiral” – thus implying it’s always those greedy unionists who threw the first punch that started the brawl.

In the 1970s and 1980s, there was a lot of truth to that characterisation. In those days, many unions did have the industrial muscle to force employers to agree to big pay rises if they didn’t want their business seriously disrupted.

But that’s obviously not an accurate depiction of what’s happening now. The present inflationary episode has seen businesses large and small greatly increasing their prices to cover the jump in their input costs arising from pandemic-caused supply disruptions and the Ukraine war.

Although the rate of increase in wages is a couple of percentage points higher than it was, this has fallen far short of the 5 or 6 percentage-point further rise in consumer prices.

So Lowe has reversed the name of the problem to a “prices-wages spiral”. In announcing this month’s rate rise, he said that “given the importance of avoiding a prices-wages spiral, the board will continue to play close attention to both the evolution of labour costs and the price-setting behaviour of firms in the period ahead”.

Lowe admits that inflation expectations, the thing that could set off a prices-wages spiral, have not risen. “Medium-term inflation expectations remain well anchored,” but adds “it is important that this remains the case”.

If that’s his big worry, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy doesn’t share it. Last week he said bluntly that “the risk of a price and wage spiral remains low, with medium-term inflation expectations well anchored to the inflation target.

“Although measures of spare capacity in the labour market show that the market remains tight, the forecast pick-up in wages growth to around 4 per cent is consistent with the inflation target.”

So, why does Lowe remain so concerned about inflation expectations leading to a prices-wages spiral that he expects he’ll have to keep raising the official interest rate?

There must be something he’s not telling us. I think his puzzling preoccupation with inflation expectations is a cover for his real worry: oligopolistic pricing power.

Why doesn’t he want to talk about it? Well, one reason could be that the previous government has given him a board stacked with business people.

A better explanation is that he’s reluctant to admit a cause of inflation that’s not simply a matter of ensuring the demand for goods and services isn’t growing faster than their supply.

Decades of big firms taking over smaller firms and finding ways to discourage new firms from entering the industry has left many of our markets for particular products dominated by two, three or four huge companies – “oligopoly”.

The simple economic model lodged in the heads of central bankers assumes that no firm in the industry is big enough to influence the market price. But the whole point of oligopoly is for firms to become big enough to influence the prices they can charge.

When there are just a few big firms, it isn’t hard for them reach a tacit agreement to put their prices up at the same time and by a similar amount. They compete for market share, but they avoid competing on price.

To some degree, they can increase their prices even when demand isn’t strong, or keep their prices high even when demand is very weak.

I suspect what’s worrying Lowe is his fear that our big firms will be able keep raising their prices even though his higher interest rates have greatly weakened demand. If so, his only way to get inflation back to the target band will be to keep raising rates until he “crunches” the economy and forces even the big boys to pull their horns in.

It’s hard to know how much of the surge in prices we saw last year was firms using their need to pass on to customers the rise in their input costs as cover for fattening their profit margins.

We do know that Treasury has found evidence of rising profit margins – “mark-ups”, as economists say – in Australia in recent decades.

And a study by the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City has found that mark-ups in the US grew by 3.4 per cent in 2021.

But for Lowe (and his predecessors, and peers in other central banks) to spell all that out is to admit there’s an important dimension of inflation that’s beyond the direct control of the central banks.

If he did that, he could be asked what he’s been doing about the inflation caused by inadequate competition. He’d say competition policy was the responsibility of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, not the Reserve. True, but what an admission.

In truth, the only person campaigning on the need to tighten competition policy in the interests of lower inflation is the former ACCC chair, Professor Rod Sims. Has he had a shred of public support from Lowe or Kennedy? No.

Final point: what’s the most glaring case of oligopolistic pricing power in the country? The four big banks. Since the Reserve began raising interest rates, their already fat profits have soared.

Why? Because they’ve lost little time in passing the increases on to their borrowing customers, but been much slower to pass the increase through to their depositors. Has Lowe been taking them to task? No, far from it.

But his predecessors did the same – as no doubt will his successors, unless we stop leaving inflation solely to a central bank whose only tool is to fiddle with interest rates.

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Inflation is too tricky to be left to the Reserve Bank

The higher the world’s central banks lift interest rates, and the more they risk pushing us into recession, the more our smarter economists are thinking there has to be a better way to control inflation.

Unsurprisingly, one of the first Australian economists to start thinking this way is our most visionary economist, Professor Ross Garnaut. He expressed his concerns in his book Reset, published in early 2021.

Then, just before last year’s job summit, he gave a little-noticed lecture, “The Economic Consequences of Mr Lowe” – a play on a famous essay by Keynes, “The Economic Consequences of Mr Churchill”.

Academic economists are rewarded by their peers for thinking orthodox thoughts, and have trouble getting unorthodox thoughts published. Trick is, it’s the people who successfully challenge the old orthodoxy who establish the new orthodoxy and become famous. John Maynard Keynes, for instance.

In his lecture, Garnaut praised the Australian econocrats who, in the late 1940s, supervised the “postwar reconstruction”. They articulated “an inclusive vision of a prosperous and fair society, in which equitable distribution [of income] was a centrally important objective”.

The then econocrats’ vision “was based on sound economic analysis, prepared to break the boundaries of orthodoxy if an alternative path was shown to be better”.

It culminated in the then-radical White Paper on full employment, of 1945, under which policy the rate of unemployment stayed below 2 per cent until the early 1970s.

Garnaut’s earlier criticism of the Reserve was its unwillingness to keep the economy growing strongly to see how far unemployment could fall before this led to rising inflation. “We haven’t reached full employment [because] the Reserve Bank gave up on full employment before we got there.”

Now, Garnaut’s worry is that “monetary orthodoxy could lead us to rising unemployment without good purpose”.

“Monetary orthodoxy as it has developed in the 21st century leads to a knee-jerk tendency towards increased interest rates when the rate of inflation... rises.

“I have been worried about the rigidity of the new monetary orthodoxy since the early days of the China resources boom.” He had “expressed concern that an inflation standard was replacing the gold standard as a source of rigidity in monetary policy”.

Ah. That’s where his allusion to Churchill comes in. In 1925, when he was Britain’s chancellor of the exchequer, Churchill made “the worst-ever error of British monetary policy” by following conventional advice to suppress the inflationary consequences of Britain’s massive spending on World War I by returning sterling to the “gold standard” (Google it) at its prewar parity.

The consequence was to plunge Britain into deep depression years before the Great Depression arrived.

“If we continue to tighten monetary policy – raise interest rates – because inflation is higher that the target range, then we will diminish demand... in ways that seriously disrupt the economy.

“High inflation is undesirable, and it is important to avoid entrenched high inflation. But not all inflation is entrenched at high levels. And inflation is not the only undesirable economic condition.

“There is a danger that we will replace continuing improvement to full employment with rising unemployment – perhaps sustained unnecessarily high unemployment.

“That would be a dreadful mistake. A mistake to be avoided with thoughtful policy.”

Such as? Garnaut has two big alternative ways of reducing inflation.

First, whereas in the early 1990s there was a case for independence of the Reserve Bank because, with high inflation entrenched, it needed to do some very hard things, he said, “what we now need is an independent authority looking at overall demand, and not just monetary policy.

“We need an independent body playing a role in both fiscal and monetary policy... It would be able to raise or lower overall tax rates in response to the macroeconomic situation.”

Second, we shouldn’t be using higher interest rates to respond to the surge in electricity and gas prices caused by the invasion of Ukraine.

Because of the way we’ve set up our energy markets, the increases in international prices came directly back into Australian prices. This put us in the paradoxical position of being the world’s biggest exporter of liquified natural gas and coal, taken together, but most Australians became poorer when gas and coal prices increased.

“Many Australians find this difficult to understand. If they understand it, they find it difficult to accept.

“Actually, it’s reasonable for them to find it unacceptable,” he said.

So, what to do? We must “insulate the Australian standard of living from those very large increases in coal, gas and therefore electricity”.

How? One way is to cause domestic energy prices to be lower than world prices. The other is to leave prices as they are, but tax the “windfall profits” to Australian producers caused by the war, then use those profits to make payments to Australian households – and, where appropriate, businesses – to insulate them from this price increase.

By causing actual prices to be lower, the first way leaves the Reserve less tempted to keep raising interest rates. Which, in turn, should avoid some unnecessary increase in unemployment.

There are two ways to keep domestic prices lower than world (and export) prices. One is to limit exports of gas and coal to the extent needed to stop domestic prices rising above what they were before the invasion.

The other way is to put an export levy (tax) on coal and gas, set to absorb the war-cause price increase.

Either of these methods could work, Garnaut said. Western Australia’s “domestic reservation requirement” specifying the amount of gas exporters must supply to the local WA market, has worked well – but this would be hard to do for coal.

This week Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy said the measures the government actually decided on could reduce the inflation rate by three-quarters of a percentage point over this year.

Garnaut’s point is that we’ll end up with less unemployment if we don’t continue leaving the whole responsibility for inflation to an institution whose only tool is to wack up interest rates.

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Interest rates: Lowe's not the problem, the system is rotten

When interest rates seem likely to be raised more than they need to be, it’s only human to blame the bloke with his hand on the lever, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe. But it’s delusional to imagine that fixing the problem with “monetary policy” is simply a matter of finding a better person to run it.

This assumes there’s nothing wrong with the policy of using the manipulation of mortgage interest rates as your main way of managing the economy and keeping inflation low and employment high. In truth, there’s a lot wrong with it.

It ought to be a happy coincidence that, just as our central bank is making heavy weather of its first big inflation problem in decades, the Albanese government had already commissioned a review of its performance.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers will receive its report late next month. But particularly because the review is headed by an overseas central banker, it’s likely to recommend relatively minor changes to the way the Reserve performs its present role – changing the composition of its board, for instance – rather than answer a more fundamental question: can’t we find a better way to manage the macroeconomy than relying so heavily on dicking around with interest rates?

It’s a pity you have to be as ancient me to know there’s nothing God-ordained about the notion that central banks must have primary responsibility for stabilising the economy, with the elected government’s “fiscal policy” (the manipulation of government spending and taxes) playing a subsidiary role, and the central bankers being independent of the elected government.

This arrangement became the conventional wisdom only in the mid-1980s, after many decades of relying mainly on using the budget, with monetary policy’s job being to keep interest rates permanently low.

The fact is that, as instruments for managing demand, monetary policy and fiscal policy have differing strengths and weaknesses. The switch from fiscal to monetary primacy seemed to make sense at the time, and to hold the promise of much more effective stabilisation of the economy as it moved through the ups and downs of the business cycle.

Then, we were very aware of the limitations of fiscal policy. But after 40 years, the limitations of monetary policy have become apparent. For one thing, we learnt from the weak growth in the decade following the global financial crisis that monetary policy is not effective in stimulating growth when interest rates are already very low and households already loaded with debt.

Now we have high inflation caused primarily by problems on the supply (production) side of the economy. Can monetary policy do anything to fix supply problems? No. All it can do is keep raising interest rates until the demand for goods and services falls back to fit with inadequate supply.

But as a tool for limiting demand, monetary policy turns out to be primitive, blunt and unfair. Its manipulation of interest rates has little effect on borrowing for business investment, and little direct effect on all consumer spending except spending on mortgaged or rented housing.

In practice, this means monetary policy relies on manipulating the housing market to influence consumer spending indirectly. When you want to encourage demand, you cut mortgage interest rates to rev up the housing market. When you want to discourage demand, you raise rates to smash the housing market.

Putting up mortgage interest rates discourages people from buying housing – including newly built homes, which hits the home-building industry directly. But by increasing mortgage payments and rents, it hits consumer spending indirectly, by leaving households with less to spend on other things.

See how round-about monetary policy is in achieving its objective? It hits some people hard, but others not at all. As a reader wrote to me: “It just doesn’t make sense to me that one segment of the population is going through financial pain and suffering when others aren’t affected. Surely, there are [other] ways the government or Reserve Bank can bring inflation under control?”

Good point. Why does stabilising the economy have to be done in such a round-about and inequitable manner? As other readers would tell me, why do older people dependent on interest income have to take a hit whenever the Reserve decides to encourage borrowing and spending by cutting interest rates?

Truth is, central banks can’t afford to worry about whether dicking around with interest rates is fair or unfair: it’s the only tool they’ve got. To someone with a hammer, every problem is a nail.

And although economists have forgotten it, there are other, less round-about and less unfair ways to discourage or encourage consumer spending. In the olden days, governments added a temporary surcharge or discount to the income tax scale.

These days, you could do the same to the rate of the goods and services tax. If you didn’t trust the pollies to do it, you could give the power to an independent commission.

The Reserve rightly asserts that many of the price rises we’ve seen can’t be explained by supply problems, but must be attributed to excessive demand, caused by all the stimulus unleashed during the pandemic.

It fits the monetary policy-primacy mindset to blame this on excessive fiscal stimulus via all the temporary government spending and tax breaks. But a much better case can be made that the excess came from monetary policy.

Indeed, the response to the pandemic may have been far less inflationary than it proved to be had the Reserve left it all to fiscal policy. Since, with the official interest rate already down to 0.75 per cent, it was already almost out of ammunition, I expected the Reserve to sit it out and leave the heavy lifting to fiscal policy.

But no, like the other rich-country central banks, the Reserve leapt in. And, not content with cutting the official rate to 0.1 per cent, it resorted to various unconventional measures, lending to the banks at discount rates and buying several hundred billions-worth of government bonds to lower also multi-year housing fixed interest rates.

While the Reserve was doing this, both federal and state governments were offering people special concessions to buy newly built homes. The combined effect was to give the housing industry a humungous boost. House prices soared, as did the cost of a new home once the supply of building materials and labour ran out.

Guess what? If you take the part of our rise in consumer prices that can’t be attributed to supply problems and imported inflation, you find much of it’s explained by the cost of building a new home, which rose by an amazing 27 per cent over the 18 months to December.

It’s reasonable to believe that our inflation wouldn’t be nearly as bad, had the Reserve left the coronacession to fiscal policy, as it should have. Why didn’t it? Because it, like the other rich-country central banks, now thinks it owns macroeconomic management.

It just had to be out there, pushing the treasurer and Treasury away from the microphone and showing it was in charge – while it made matters worse. This is the central banking problem we - and the other rich countries - should be grappling with.

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RBA warning: our supply-side problems have only just begun

In one of his last speeches for the year, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe has issued a sobering warning. Even when we’ve got on top of the present inflation outbreak, the disruptions to supply we’ve struggled with this year are likely to be a recurring problem in the years ahead.

Economists think of the economy as having two sides. The supply side refers to our production of goods and services, whereas the demand side refers to our spending on those goods and services, partly for investment in new production capacity, but mainly for consumption by households.

Lowe notes that, until inflation raised its ugly head, the world had enjoyed about three decades in which there were few major “shocks” (sudden big disruptions) to the continuing production and supply of goods and services.

When something happens that disrupts supply, so that it can’t keep up with demand, prices jump – as we’ve seen this year with disruptions caused by the pandemic and its lockdowns, and with Russia’s attack on Ukraine.

What changes occurred over the three decades were mainly favourable: they involved increased supply of manufactured goods, in particular, which put gentle downward pressure on prices.

This made life easier for the world’s central banks. With the supply side behaving itself, they were able to keep their economies growing fairly steadily by using interest rates to manage demand. Put rates up to restrain spending and inflation; put rates down to encourage spending and employment.

The central banks were looking good because the one tool they have for influencing the economy – interest rates – was good for managing demand. Trouble is – and as we saw this year – managing demand is the only thing central banks and their interest rates can do.

When prices jump because of disruptions to supply, there’s nothing they can do to fix those disruptions and get supply back to keeping up with demand. All they can do is strangle demand until prices come down.

So, what’s got Lowe worried is his realisation that a lot of the problems headed our way will be shocks to supply.

“Looking forward, the supply side looks more challenging than it has been for many years” and is likely to have a bigger effect on inflation, making it jump more often.

Lowe sees four factors leading to more supply shocks. The first is “the reversal of globalisation”.

Over recent decades, international trade increased significantly relative to the size of the global economy, he says.

Production became increasingly integrated across borders, and this lowered costs and made supply very flexible. Australia was among the major beneficiaries of this.

Now, however, international trade is no longer growing faster than the global economy. “Trading blocs are emerging and there is a step back from closer integration,” he says. “Unfortunately, today barriers to trade and investment are more likely to be increased than removed.”

This will inevitably affect both the rise in standards of living and the prices of goods and services in global markets.

The second factor affecting the supply side is demographics. Until relatively recently, the working-age population of the advanced economies was steadily increasing. This was also true for China and Eastern Europe – both of which were being integrated into the global economy.

And the participation of women in the paid labour force was also rising rapidly. “The result was a substantial increase in the number of workers engaged in the global economy, and advances in technology made it easier to tap into this global labour force,” Lowe says.

So, there was a great increase in global supply. But this trend has turned and the working-age population is now declining, with the decline projected to accelerate. The proportion of the population who are either too young or too old to work is rising, meaning the supply of workers available to meet the demand for goods and services has diminished.

The third factor affecting the supply side is climate change. Over the past 20 years, the number of major floods across the world has doubled and the frequency of heatwaves and droughts has also increased.

This will keep getting worse.These extreme weather events disrupt production and so affect prices – as we know all too well in Australia. But as well as lifting fruit and vegetable prices (and meat prices after droughts break and herd rebuilding begins), extreme weather can disrupt mining production and transport and distribution.

The fourth factor affecting the supply side is related: the transition from fossil fuels to renewables. This involves junking our investment in coal mines, gas plants and power stations, and new investment in solar farms, wind farms, batteries and rooftop solar, as well as extensively rejigging the electricity network.

It’s not just that the required new capital investment will be huge, but that the transition from the old system to the new won’t happen without disruptions.

So, energy prices will be higher (to pay for the new capital investment) and more volatile when fossil-fuel supply stops before renewables supply is ready to fill the gap.

Lowe foresees the inflation rate becoming more unstable through two channels. First, shocks to supply that cause large and rapid changes in prices.

Second, the global supply curve becoming less “elastic” (less able to respond to increases in demand by quickly increasing supply) than it has been in the past decade.

Lowe says bravely that none of these developments would undermine the central banks’ ability to achieve their inflation target “on average” - that is, over a few years – though they would make the bankers’ job more complicated.

Well, maybe. As he reminds us, adverse supply shocks can have conflicting effects, increasing inflation while reducing output and employment. The Reserve can’t increase interest rates and reduce them at the same time.

As Lowe further observes, supply shocks “also have implications for other areas of economic policy”. Yes, competition policy, for instance.

My conclusion is that managing the economy can no longer be left largely to the central bankers.

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Hey RBA boomer, things have changed a lot since the 1970s

Sorry, but Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s call for ordinary Australians to make further sacrifice next year in his unfinished fight against “the scourge of inflation” doesn’t hold water. His crusade to save us all from a wage-price spiral is like Don Quixote tilting at windmills only he can see.

In one of his last speeches for the year, Lowe “highlighted the possibility of a wage-price spiral” in Australia. A lesson from the high inflation we experienced in the 1970s and ’80s is that “bringing inflation back down again after it becomes ingrained in people’s expectations is very costly and almost certainly involves a recession”.

He noted that this was a real risk in “a number of other advanced economies [which] are experiencing much faster rates of wages growth”.

But not to worry. “This is an area we are watching carefully.” The Reserve Bank board is “resolute in its determination to return inflation to target, and we will do what is necessary to achieve that”.

Oh. Really? Like the smartest of the business economists, I’ve been thinking that having raised the official interest rate by 3 percentage points in eight months, Lowe may have decided he’s done enough. But this tough-guy talk hints at more to come – maybe a lot more.

One thing I am pretty sure of, however. After the caning Lowe’s been given for saying repeatedly that he didn’t expect to be raising interest rates until 2024, when he does decide he has done enough, he won’t be saying so.

To leave his options open – and pacify the urgers in the financial markets who want him to do a lot more – he’ll say it’s just a pause to see how the medicine’s going down. And add something like “the board expects to increase interest rates further over the period ahead, but it is not on a pre-set course”.

One reason Lowe doesn’t have to raise rates as far as many overpaid money-market people imagine is that with real wages having fallen in recent years, and expected to keep falling, the nation’s employers are doing his job for him.

Raise mortgage interest rates or cut real wages – whichever way you do it, the result is to put the squeeze on households, to stop them spending as much (on the things the people who cut their wages are hoping to sell them – no, doesn’t make sense to me, either).

So, we’re back to Lowe’s professed fear of a wage-price spiral. The entire under-50 population must be wondering what such a thing could be. Lowe spelt it out while answering questions after his speech.

“The issue that many central banks have been worried about – and I include us in this – is [that] this period of high inflation will lead the workforce to say: ‘Well, inflation is high, I need compensation for that’.”

“And let’s say we all accepted the idea, which [has] a natural appeal: ‘inflation is 7 per cent, I should be compensated for that in my wages’. If that were to happen, what do you think inflation would be next year? Seven per cent, plus or minus.

“And then we’ve got to get compensated for that 7 per cent, and 7 per cent. . . This is what happened in the ’70s and ’80s and ... that turned out to be a disaster,” Lowe said.

“So I know it’s very difficult for people to accept the idea that wages don’t rise with inflation. And people are experiencing a decline in real wages. That’s tough. The alternative, though, is more difficult,” he added.

This is a reasonable description of how the wage-price spiral worked in the olden days. But as a plausible risk for today, it has two glaring weaknesses.

First, it assumes that if workers decide they want a 7 per cent pay rise, bosses have no choice but to hand it over. This is fantasy land.

The plain truth is that these days, workers lack the industrial muscle to force big pay rises on employers. The best-placed workers on enterprise agreements are getting rises of 3 to 4 per cent, but some are still getting rises in the twos.

The lowest-paid quarter of workers, dependent on award wage minimums, get their rises determined annually by the Fair Work Commission – but these are granted in retrospect, not prospect. This July, a handful of them got a rise of 5.2 per cent, but most got 4.6 per cent.

The bargaining power workers had in the ’70s has been reduced by more than four decades of globalisation, technological change and wage-fixing “reform”. In 1976, 52 per cent of workers were members of a union. Now it’s down to just 12.5 per cent.

Yet another reason a wage-price spiral couldn’t happen today is that most enterprise agreements run for three years. The system prohibits me from striking for a pay rise this year higher than the one I already agreed to two years ago.

The second respect in which Lowe’s fear of a wage-price spiral rising from the dead is silly is the assumption that if workers get a 7 per cent pay rise, businesses will automatically and easily put their prices up by 7 per cent. This makes sense arithmetically only if you think that wage costs constitute the whole of businesses’ costs. In truth, the Bureau of Statistics’ input-output tables say that economy-wide, wages account for only about a quarter of total input costs.

So, on average, a 7 per cent wage rise justifies a price rise of less than 2 per cent. Since business competitors would be paying much the same, you might think any firm that turned a 2 per cent cost increase into a 7 per cent price rise would be asking to be undercut by its competitors and lose its share of the market.

Of course, such an outrageous assault on the pockets of the industry’s customers would be possible if the industry was dominated by just a few big firms. They could – and have, and do – reach an unspoken agreement to each put their prices up by the same excessive amount.

It’s clear that Lowe knows a lot about how financial markets work, but not much about labour markets. But I find it hard to believe he could be so ill-informed as not to see the weaknesses in his wage-price spiral boogeyman.

The other possibility is that what’s really worrying him is a mass outbreak of oligopolistic pricing power. Getting that back under control really could take a recession.

Monetary policy (manipulating interest rates) is no cure for market power. The only answer is stronger competition policy and tougher policing by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. But neither the Reserve Bank nor Treasury has had much enthusiasm for this.

Much less controversial to blame inflation on greedy workers and tell the mums and dads it’s their duty to the nation to tighten their belts and lose their jobs until the problem’s solved.

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The cost of living isn't as high as we've been told

So, as we learnt the day after the budget, the cost of living leapt by 7.3 per cent over the past year, right? Wrong. Last week we were told it’s gone up no more than 6.7 per cent for employees, and 6.4 per cent for pensioners and others on benefits.

The 7.3 per cent came from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, and was the rise in the consumer price index over the year to the end of September. The other figures also came from the bureau, and were for the rise in the “living cost index” over the same period for certain types of households.

Why weren’t you told about the second lot? Because the media wanted to avoid confusing you – and because they were better news rather than worse.

Huh? What’s going on? We’re used to using the consumer price index (CPI) as a measure of the cost of living. But the bureau knows it’s not. So, a week later, it always issues its living-cost indexes for key household types – which the media always ignore.

Usually, the differences from the CPI aren’t big enough to worry about. But now they are. Why? Because mortgage interest rates are increasing rapidly. And mortgage interest charges are the main difference between the two measures.

Before late-1998, the CPI measured the housing costs of owner-occupiers according to the interest they paid on their mortgages. But this was changed at the behest of the Reserve Bank, which didn’t want its measure of inflation to go up every time it raised interest rates to get inflation down.

So, since then, the bureau has measured owner-occupiers’ housing costs by taking the price of building a new house or unit. This doesn’t make much sense, since not many people buy a newly built home each quarter. Many of us have never bought a newly built home.

This is why the bureau also calculates separate cost of living indexes, using the same prices as the CPI, but restoring mortgage interest charges, as well as giving the prices different weights to take account of the differing spending patterns of particular household types, such as age pensioners.

New dwelling prices rose by almost 21 per cent over the year to September, meaning they accounted for a quarter of the 7.3 per cent rise in the CPI. By contrast, the mortgage interest charges paid by employee households rose by more than 23 per cent, but contributed only 12 per cent (0.8 percentage points) of the 6.7 per cent rise in their total costs.

Get it? Since mortgage interest charges are a more accurate guide to the costs of owner-occupiers than new-home prices are, the CPI is significantly overstating the rise in the living costs of everyone, from employees to people on social security (and the self-proclaimed “self-funded” retirees, for that matter).

This is a sliver of good news about the extent of cost-of-living pressure on households. It’s better news for people on indexed pensions and benefits: they’ll get what amounts to a small real increase.

But it raises an obvious question: why on earth has the cost of newly built homes shot up by 21 per cent over the past year? After all, this has added hugely to the Reserve Bank’s need to fight inflation by raising interest rates, to the tune of 2.75 percentage points so far.

It’s true the pandemic has caused shortages of imported building materials, but the real blame is down to the economic mangers’ appalling own goal in using grants, tax breaks and cuts in interest rates to rev up the home building industry far beyond its capacity to expand.

It got a huge pipeline of unfilled orders and whacked up its prices, adding no less than a quarter to our soaring inflation rate. Well done, guys.

This raises a less obvious question: federal and state governments were spending unprecedented billions to hold the economy together during the pandemic and its lockdowns. With the official interest rate already down to 0.75 per cent without doing much good, was it really necessary to cut the rate to 0.1 per cent and engage in all that unconventional money creation?

It makes a good case for the new view that, while monetary policy works well when you want to slow demand, it doesn’t work well when you wish to speed it up. Especially when rates are already so low and households already so heavily indebted.

This is something those reviewing the Reserve Bank should be considering.

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