Economic reform is stalled until politicians get back our trust

For those who care more about good policy than party politics, there are unpleasant conclusions to be drawn from the federal election. The obvious one is that it was a case of policy overreach leading to failure.

The less obvious one is that decades of misbehaviour by both sides have alienated so many people from the political process and turned election campaigns into such a cesspit of misrepresentation and dishonesty that, henceforth, neither side will be game to propose or implement controversial reforms.

The election was lost by the party proposing to remove a long list of sectional tax breaks and use the proceeds to increase spending on hospitals, schools and childcare, and won by the party that couldn’t agree on any major policies bar a humongous tax cut.

The risks to good economic policy are obvious. Labor concludes only a mug would try to get themselves elected on the back of good policy; the Coalition concludes you don’t need to be promising to do anything much to get re-elected.

Labor’s conclusion could be used to reinforce the political class’s widely held view that controversial reforms should only be pursued once in government, never from opposition.

Trouble is, the Coalition’s conclusion could be used to argue that, if you can get re-elected without any plans to fix things, why take the risk of proposing anything that could be unpopular?

But I think the threat to good policy runs even deeper. It comes from the electorate’s ever-growing disillusionment and alienation from politics and politicians, and from the two main parties in particular.

The vote for a changing array of third parties continued to rise, while the primary vote for both the majors was down – though more so for Labor than the Coalition. Until now, the rise of One Nation and other populist parties of the right has been a much bigger worry for the Coalition than the Greens have been for Labor.

This time, however, many former Labor voters in outer suburban and regional electorates used One Nation and Clive Palmer’s United Australia Party as a bridge to switch their vote to the Liberals.

In numerical terms, that’s why Labor lost. The point for good-policy advocates to note is that, when so many voters tune out of the political debate, but are still required to vote, they tend to make a last-minute choice based not on a well-informed assessment of how they would be affected by the rival parties’ policies, but on superficialities (“that nice Mr Rudd” or “Shorten looks shifty to me”), scare campaigns and negative advertising.

In other words, in a world where switched-off swinging voters aren’t even guided by informed self-interest, the scare campaign is king. To be blunt, the best liars win.

The Libs were convinced that former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull came so close to losing the 2016 election because of the success of Labor’s Mediscare campaign, conducted at the last minute using social media.

My theory is that, this time, the Libs resolved to turn the tables. This time they made much superior use of social media to run bigger scare campaigns about Labor’s “retirement tax” and “housing tax”. That was mere misrepresentation of Labor’s policies (most of which had strong support from economists and econocrats). The anonymous soul who dreamt up the “death tax” was an outright liar.

I think the biggest single reason so many outer-suburban and regional voters turned away from Labor was its opponents’ success (with much help from Palmer’s blanket advertising) in convincing those voters that Labor planned to increase their taxes.

My guess is that the next federal election will either see each side battling to out-scare the other – an orgy of lies - or, more likely, neither side being game to propose any reform of consequence, for fear of having it grossly misrepresented by the other side.

The more the bad behaviour of both sides – the broken promises, the hypocrisy, the spin, the abuse of statistics, the preference for bad-mouthing your opponents rather than explaining your policies – continues, the more both sides will turn from substance to empty populism.

And guess what? The more they do, the more voters will disengage and become more susceptible to lies and superficialities.

From the noises Anthony Albanese has been making, everything Labor did was wrong, and every triumphalist Liberal explanation of why Labor lost is right. The trouble with Labor selecting leaders from its Left faction is that they’re so anxious to prove they’re not left wing (which, these days, they aren't) they end up standing for nothing.

It would be nice if, having worked a miracle and established his authority over the Coalition’s warring tribes, Scott Morrison now turns his mind to fixing at least some of the many bits of the economy that need fixing. We can but hope.

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Why did Labor lose? Not because of its tough tax plans

It’s been a week since the election so, naturally, by now a great many of the people who work in the House with the Flag on Top – politicians, staffers, journalists – know exactly why Labor lost and the Coalition won: those hugely controversial dividend franking credits.

There were other reasons, of course, but franking credits is the big one. How do I know they know? Because this is what happens after every election.

The denizens of the House take only a few days to decide on the single most important factor driving the result. Surprisingly, each side of politics – the winners and the losers – almost invariably comes to the same conclusion.

And once they have, the concrete around the notion sets quickly and what started as a theory becomes received wisdom, something any fool knows and part of the building’s corporate memory.

Months later, political scientists will come up with different, much more “evidence-based” explanations, but by then it will be too late. No one listens to them because the die has been cast.

Which is why it may already be too late for research by Dr Richard Denniss and others at the Australia Institute to debunk the quite misguided notion that it was all the people who’d be hurt by the franking credits policy voting against an evil-intentioned Labor Party.

When you see Denniss’ quite startling findings it should also disabuse you of the notion that, particularly in a country as big and varied as ours, a party’s loss of an election could ever be, as the academics say, “mono-causal” rather than “multi-factorial”.

Labor’s performance was disappointing (for its supporters, anyway), not disastrous. The composition of the House of Reps has changed surprisingly little. So it may surprise you, but shouldn’t, that as well as there being lots of electorates that swung to the Coalition (measured on a two-party-preferred basis), there were also lots of electorates than swung to Labor.

Get this: the seats that swung to the Coalition were mainly those whose voters had low incomes, whereas the seats that swung to Labor tended to be those whose voters had high incomes.

Among the seats with the 10 biggest swings to Labor were five from Victoria, three from NSW and one each from WA and the ACT. The swings varied from 3.7 per cent to 6.6 per cent.

In all but two of those seats, they had at least twice the proportion of high income-earners (people in the top 20 per cent) than the national average. Under the Coalition’s three-stage tax plan, voters in the same eight electorates are estimated to get tax cuts in 2024 varying from 49 per cent more to double the national average.

Across Australia, the average value of franking credits per taxpayer is $695 a year. In those eight electorates (five of which are held by the Coalition), the average value ranges from $1213 to $2578 a year.

Now let’s look at the 10 electorates with the biggest swings to the Coalition – six in Queensland and four in NSW. The swings varied from 6 per cent to 11.3 per cent. All of the seats had less than the national average of people with high incomes. And for all but one of them, the average tax cut in 2024 will be below the national average.

How much do they get in franking credits? All 10 seats get less than the $695-a-year national average. Between 83 per cent and 16 per cent of the average, to be precise.

Looking more generally, electorates with more people on low and middle incomes tended to swing to the Coalition, whereas electorates with more people on high incomes tended to swing to Labor.

Next, since it’s the (well-off) retired who would have been hit by the plan to end refunds of unused franking credits, the researchers looked at the voting trend for electorates with a high share of voters over 65.

They found only a very slight tendency for such electorates to move their votes to the Coalition.

So, what should we make of all this? Well, for a start, the figures allow us to rule out some possibilities, but leave others open.

They seem to refute the contention that many well-off retirees (or even prospective well-off retirees) moved their votes away from Labor because they were deeply opposed to the planned changes to franking credits.

They leave open the possibility than many less well-off voters moved their vote away from Labor because they disapproved of the way well-off retirees were to be treated. If so, they were being very magnanimous towards people better off than themselves.

Possible, but not likely. It’s easier to believe they (or, at least, some of them) were renters voting against Labor in response to the real estate agents’ scare campaign claiming Labor’s plan to limit negative gearing would force up rents.

Turning to the higher-income electorates, there’s little sign of many people moving their votes away from Labor because of their opposition to its franking credit plan – or to its move against negative gearing, for that matter.

According to Denniss, it looks like renters voted to help their landlords keep their tax lurks, whereas the landlords voted for Labor’s offer of free childcare and the restoration of penalty rates for their tenants.

Well, maybe. What can be said with more confidence is that it’s hard to see much sign of an outbreak of class warfare.

Moving on from Labor’s controversial tax changes, the success or near success of independents running in Liberal seats such as Warringah and Wentworth in prosperous parts of Sydney, and Indi in rural Victoria, makes it easier to believe the swing to Labor in so many high-income electorates was motivated by a concern that Australia needed a more convincing policy to combat climate change.

As for the swing against Labor in many low-to-middle electorates in Queensland and NSW, my guess is they felt Labor was neglecting their worries about jobs and the cost of living.

It’s never as simple as many workers in Parliament House convince themselves.

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Where’s the money coming from? Ask me after the election

A key issue in this campaign has been whether government should be bigger or smaller. But that’s not the way either side has wanted to frame it. As usual, both sides prefer to be seen as offering more government spending and tax cuts and a return to big budget surpluses. In election campaigns, the rules of arithmetic are flexible.

A twist this time is that Scott Morrison is using his promised super-mega $300-billion tax cuts to support his claim that the Libs are always the lower-taxing party, whereas Labor is invariably the party of higher taxes.

But such massive tax cuts surely require big cuts in government spending? Oh, gosh no. Where did you get that idea? As he and Treasurer Josh Frydenberg have repeatedly said, they’re willing to "guarantee the essential services that Australians need and deserve".

For their part, Bill Shorten and Chris Bowen are promising to reverse a lot of the government’s previous alleged spending cuts in health and education, while more than matching the first stage of the government’s tax cuts and achieving bigger budget surpluses than it would. They would square this circle by "paying for our commitments by closing loopholes for the top end of town".

Only this week did Labor produce its detailed costings and figurings. We’ll come to that.

Apart from this week’s last-minute additions, all the government’s costings and figurings were outlined in the April budget, of course, and confirmed a few days later in the pre-election update.

Actually, this government has a rather chequered history on the unmentionable subject of whether government should be bigger or smaller. The obvious advantage of a bigger government is that it provides more of the services we love, and doesn’t skimp on their quality. The obvious advantage of a smaller government is less tax to pay.

When Tony Abbott came to government in 2013 determined to end debt and deficit ASAP, he pledged to do so solely by cutting government spending and avoiding any tax increases (apart from his temporary budget repair levy on high income-earners).

Trouble is, voters were so appalled by the sweeping cuts to health and education he proposed that his government’s standing in the opinion polls plunged, never to recover. The Senate blocked many of his cuts.

The episode revealed what economists call the "revealed preference" of voters (not what they say, but what they do). They may like tax cuts and hate the idea of new or increased taxes, what they really don’t want is smaller government.

In subsequent budgets, the Coalition pretty much abandoned the notion of cutting its way back to surplus (apart, of course, for its regular cuts in things most voters didn’t worry about – public servant numbers and payments to people on welfare).

It tried to limit the growth in government spending by following a rule that any new spending proposals had to be offset by equivalent cuts. Apart from that, it sat back and waited for "bracket creep" to raise tax collections to the point where the deficit disappeared.

Except for Malcolm Turnbull’s first budget, in 2016. Here he proposed to phase in a cut to the rate of company tax, and covered part of its cost by pinching Labor’s plan for huge increases in the tax on tobacco, and doing his own versions of Labor’s plans to tax multinational companies and reduce superannuation tax concessions.

In the end, most of the plan to cut company tax was abandoned, but the tax raising measures stayed – a point to remember when Morrison and Frydenberg try to give you the impression it’s only Labor that increases taxes or cuts back tax concessions (or increases taxes via bracket creep).

When Danielle Wood, of the Grattan Institute, looked more closely at Frydenberg’s budget, she found the government had fiddled the figures to exaggerate the extent to which it had limited the growth in government spending so far, and now was claiming to be able to limit its average real growth to just 1.3 per cent a year over the next four years – something no government has ever come close to achieving.

The ageing of the population and the huge demands this will make on the budget make it even harder to credit.

Now Dr Peter Davidson, principal adviser to the Australian Council of Social Service, has taken Grattan’s work and dug even deeper. He finds that, after you allow for expected population growth, real spending growth per person would be zero.

We’re told that, still in real terms, spending on tertiary education is expected to fall by 0.6 per cent each year, while spending on dental health, and on family payments, are each expected to fall by 0.7 per cent.

Spending on employment services is expected to fall by 2.5 per cent a year and on social housing by 2.7 per cent.

You may believe that would happen should the Coalition be re-elected, but I don’t. It’s possible Morrison has a dastardly secret plan to "do another Abbott" after the election, but it’s much easier to believe the government was just fudging the figures to make it seem it could afford big tax cuts as well as achieve big surpluses.

Meanwhile, Labor’s costings reveal that "closing loopholes for the top end of town" is a misleading way to describe its various cutbacks of tax breaks affecting high-income earners and plan to restore the Coalition’s budget repair levy for another five years.

But the costings are just that – costings of individual promises. Nowhere are we told what the various tax-raising measures add up to, nor what the various spending measures add up to.

We are, however, told that the former would exceed the latter by $17 billion over the next four years. Oh, well that’s OK then.

Bit too tricky for my liking. When it comes to the size of government, neither side wants to spell it out truthfully before the election. Thanks, guys.

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A politician always wins, but this time the choice really matters

If you judged it by the way Labor's been so quick to match the Coalition’s backdated doubling to $1000-a-year of its tax cut for middle income-earners (good idea) and now the Coalition’s plan to help first-home buyers (con job), you’d be justified in thinking that, despite all their furious arguing with each other, there’s little to choose from between the two sides. For once, however, such a conclusion would be dead wrong.

Not for many moons have voters faced such a clear-cut choice between Labor and Liberal.

It’s true that, if you judge the pollies by the way they behave, they’re just as bad as each other. Both sides refuse to answer the question, never say yes or no when they could dissemble, keep saying tricky things calculated to mislead, claim to “feel your pain” when they don’t, keep badmouthing each other and answering a question about their policies by attacking their opponents’ policies, and make promises they’re not sure they can keep.

And – one we’ll need to watch out for if Labor wins – claim to be much more high-principled than the government while they’re in opposition, but then do just the same when they’re in government, justifying it by saying they’re no worse than the last lot.

All true. But where the two sides are very different is in the policies they’re offering. And, although the more unpopular of those policies may or may not make it through the Senate, this is one time I’m inclined to agree with Paul Keating when he repeats his saying that “when you change the government, you change the country”.

Since it’s true that governments lose elections far more often than oppositions win them, the standard practice is for oppositions to make themselves a “small target” – to promise little of substance – so all the focus is on the many things the government has stuffed up.

Not this time. This time it’s the government making itself a small target – running on its economic record, with few policy promises bar its $300-billion tax plan – while Labor has so many controversial policies to go with its popular ones the Libs have been spoilt for choice.

Only the naive believe the battle between the classes ever ended, but in this election it’s more in-your-face than any time since the days of Labor’s Arthur Calwell. The Libs say Labor wants to increase taxes rather than cut them, but it would be more accurate to say it wants to make the well-off (including the well-off retired) pay more tax, while using the proceeds to increase government spending on health, education, childcare and much else, with what’s left over used to repay some of the government’s debt.

Labor plans to abolish tax refunds of unused dividend franking credits for those not on the pension, wind back negative gearing and the capital gains tax discount, reduce superannuation tax concessions, tax family trusts and restore for four years the 2¢-in-the-dollar budget repair levy on income above $180,000 a year, not to mention cancel the second and third stages of the Libs’ tax cuts.

In other words, Bill Shorten and Chris Bowen plan to use both sides of the budget to affect the biggest redistribution of income from high income-earners to low and middle income-earners we’ve seen in ages.

By contrast, the Libs are fighting tooth and nail to protect the tax breaks favouring property investors, self-funded retirees, high-income superannuation savers and business people who’ve gone for years using family trusts to reduce the tax they pay – most of which concessions were introduced by the Howard government.

As well, the Libs’ seven-year, three-stage, super-mega tax plan would favour high income-earners – individuals earning more than $100,000 and, particularly, $200,000 a year – to a degree more generous/blatant than I can remember.

The first stage, which is limited largely to middle income-earners, would give them an immediate cut in their average tax rate of no more than about 1¢ in every dollar they earn. That’s pretty much it for low and middle income-earners.

High income-earners have to wait for stage two (July 2022) and stage three (July 2024) before they get much. But then the heavens would open. Cuts in average tax rates would range from 1.5¢ in every dollar for those on $110,000 to 4.5¢ in the dollar for me and my mates on $200,000 and above.

Next, more than ever before, this election sees Labor going for the young vote (negative gearing, better childcare, preschool and universities) while the Libs defend actual and prospective self-funded retirees.

Except for Scott Morrison’s last-minute, few-details first home loan deposit scheme (which Labor matched within an hour or two). It sounds better than is, mainly because access to it would be limited. Further falls in house prices would do far more to help – but no pollie wants to say that.

Then there’s the minor matter of the adequacy of our contribution to the Paris Agreement’s effort to limit global warming. Here, too, the choice is wide, ranging from the Coalition (just pretending) to Labor (real but inadequate) to the Greens (full blast).

All that remains is a threshold question: will your choice be aimed at benefiting yourself and your family, or the wider community and “those less fortunate than ourselves”?

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Don't trust pollies to tell you the truth about tax

"You don’t grow the economy by taxing it more,” Scott Morrison declared in the ABC’s election debate. Then his Treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, claimed the Coalition’s $300 billion in tax cuts would make income tax “more progressive” not less. As a prospective major beneficiary of those cuts, I’d love to believe both claims. Unfortunately, there’s little evidence to support either.

Meanwhile, higher income-earners should be in no doubt they’ll be paying a lot more tax should Bill Shorten and Chris Bowen come to power and get their plans through the Senate.

Labor plans to reduce the concessional treatment of negative gearing and capital gains, unused franking credits and family trusts, abandon the second and third stages of the $300 billion tax cuts, and increase the top rate of income tax by 2¢ in the dollar for three years.

If the line that “you don’t grow the economy by taxing it more” makes sense to you, you need to think harder. Taken literally, the sensible response to it is, “No one ever said you do”. It’s a non-sequitur – the first part of the sentence doesn’t fit with the last part.

Morrison wants you to think it means that taxes always discourage economic growth. This notion suits many well-off people who’d love to pay less tax, but that doesn’t make it true.

Say by some miracle we lived in a world with no taxes. It’s not clear that if we had no one enforcing laws, the roads were shocking, and only the rich could afford to educate their children or see a doctor, the economy would be much bigger and faster growing.

On the other hand, it would be true that taxes held back the economy’s growth if governments collected a lot of tax and then buried the money in a hole.

In the real world, however, governments spend almost all the money they collect in taxes (if not more). Some of that money may be wasted, but much of it does a lot of good – to the economy and the people who make up the economy.

We all benefit from living in law-abiding country, with decent roads, low-cost education and good healthcare, not to mention the high wages our educations and health enable us to earn. Our businesses also benefit from operating in such a country.

It’s true that some countries have tax systems that collect their taxes in ways that do more to discourage economic activity than other countries do. It’s true, too, that some countries spend their tax dollars more effectively than others.

But what economists have never been able to demonstrate is that those countries with high rates of total taxation – the Scandinavians, for instance – have smaller and slower-growing economies than those countries with low rates of tax.

There would be more truth in Morrison’s line if he changed it to say “you don’t grow the economy by taxing it less” – you just leave some people better off and others worse off.

Which brings us to Frydenberg’s remarkable claim that his $300-billion tax plan – where the first stage goes mainly to middle income-earners, but the two later stages go disproportionately to people earning a lot more than $100,000 a year - will make the income tax scale more “progressive” rather than less.

As I explained in detail in this column a month ago, a progressive tax is one that takes a progressively higher proportion of people’s incomes as incomes rise.

But two economists at the Australian National University’s research school of economics, Associate Professor Chung Tran and Nabeeh Zakariyya, have produced a more sophisticated analysis, using the Suits index (invented by Daniel Suits) to express our income tax scale’s progressivity as a single number, and then see how it has changed over the years.

Unsurprisingly, they find that our income tax scale is and always has been progressive (and will stay progressive if the Coalition’s tax plan comes to pass).

They found that, in 2016, the top 10 per cent of taxpayers accounted for 32 per cent of all the pre-tax income, but 46 per cent of all the income tax paid. That’s progressive. Between them, their marginal tax rate (on the last part of their income) was 41¢ in the dollar, but their average tax rate (on all their income) was just 29¢ in the dollar.

More surprisingly, the authors found that the scale’s degree of progressivity changes from year to year, and tends to move in cycles of greater and lesser progressiveness.

What factors cause these cycles? Government-initiated changes in the scale, obviously, but also changes in the distribution of pre-tax income between income-earners and – a big one – the effects of “bracket creep” as inflation pushes people onto higher tax brackets or otherwise raises their average rate of tax.

Significantly, the authors confirmed Treasury’s contention that bracket creep reduces progressivity - that is, it favours high income-earners (who don't have a higher tax bracket to be pushed onto).

They find that the income tax scale’s progressiveness declined in the Howard government years between 2001 and 2006, but then increased sharply, reaching a peak in 2010 (during the Labor years), but since then has declined slowly (thanks to bracket creep and the absence of tax cuts, as governments gave top priority to reducing the budget deficit).

Even so, the scale was more progressive in 2016 than it was in 2004.

Frydenberg’s claim that his three-stage tax plan would make income tax more progressive seems based on the fact that the top tax rate would be unchanged at 45¢ in the dollar, while some lower rates fell and, according to Treasury’s debatable projections, by 2024 the top 5 per cent of taxpayers’ share of total tax paid would have risen from 32.7 per cent to 32.9 per cent.

Should his plan actually come about, the Suits index will tell us whether it really has made income tax more progressive rather than less. Since people on $200,000 will have their average tax rate cut by 4.5¢ in every dollar of income, I very much doubt it.

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The great election diversion: arguments about tax, tax, tax

No one’s more interested in taxation than me, but there’s got to be more to this election campaign than claims about which side is high taxing and which low taxing, and interminable arguments and scare campaigns about franking credits and negative gearing.

Fortunately, the nation’s best and most independent think-tank, the Grattan Institute, has taken a much broader view of the issues to which the winning side should pay most attention in its Commonwealth Orange Book (an allusion to the red book and the blue book that the public service prepares to present to whichever side wins).

To help voters put the election issues into context, however, Grattan starts by comparing our performance on a broad range of indicators with nine comparable countries.

On standard of living – measured by gross national income per person – our $62,800 a year is well behind the United States ($75,900) and less behind the Netherlands ($68,100), Germany ($66,900) and Sweden ($64,900), but ahead of Canada ($57,300), Britain ($54,900), Japan ($54,300), New Zealand ($48,800) and South Korea ($48,400).

So we’re in the middle of the pack of rich countries. We can afford high quality public services (paid for by moderately high taxes) and afford to treat the disadvantaged with consideration.

But, despite all the times Scott Morrison repeats the words “strong economy”, our living standards have stagnated in recent times.

At 73 per cent, our rate of employment – the proportion of the working-age population with jobs – is at the low end of the range (New Zealand is on 77 per cent), but all countries are comfortably above America’s 70 per cent – a sign that all’s not so well in Trump’s supposedly strong economy.

A good check on our present success is our NEET rate – the proportion of people aged 15 to 29 who are not in employment, education or training. At 11 per cent we’re level with New Zealand, and better than Canada, Britain and the US, but worse that Germany, Sweden and the Netherlands.

Could do better. We need to fix the almighty mess we’ve made of vocational education and training.

On income inequality, our gap puts us towards the wrong end of the pack: equal with New Zealand, worse than Sweden, the Netherlands, Germany, Canada and even Britain, but better than South Korea, Japan and the pinnacle of inequality, the US.

We could greatly reduce inequality simply by paying the $3 billion a year it would cost to raise the dole by $75 a week – a truth Bill Shorten shouldn’t need a protracted inquiry to tell him. That $3 billion, by the way, compares with the estimated annual cost of Morrison’s tax plan, when fully implemented, of $35 billion a year.

We do surprisingly badly on housing, with fewer dwellings per 1000 adults than all the others bar South Korea. And with median housing costs as high as 23 per cent of disposable income, we’re dearer than everywhere except Holland.

Less surprising is how badly the land that used to boast about its cheap power is doing. These days, only German households pay more for electricity than ours do. Despite our ever-growing exports of LNG, our industries pay more for gas than the Canadians, Kiwis and Americans.

And, thanks to the policy dominance of the climate-change deniers, our electricity use generates far more carbon emissions than the others do. A lot more reform of the reforms needed.

Our relatively low funding of schools, and its division on a sectarian basis – the religious get more than the non-religious; some religions get more than others – hasn’t left our kids' performance looking good in international comparisons.

If you ignore the poor deal we give our Indigenous (as we usually do), our health system ranks well. Our life expectancy at birth is bettered only by Japan, and the cost of our healthcare as a proportion of national income is at the lower end (and only a bit more than half what the Yanks pay for their appalling system).

Even so, there’s room for us to get better value for money, and our out-of-pocket healthcare costs are higher than everywhere except Sweden and South Korea.

Which brings us to the quality of our governance. In Australia, trust in government is low and falling. In international comparisons, we’re about middle of the pack on trust.

But Australian cynicism is now at an all-time high – only a quarter of us think “people in government can be trusted to do the right thing” – the lowest since the survey began in 1969.

Grattan says there’s a growing sense that people in government look after their own interests, or those of powerful groups, rather than the public interest.

Many other democracies have stronger rules on political donations and lobbying, designed to keep special-interest influence in check. Most rich countries restrict political donations or party spending in some way. We don’t.

The feds are lagging the states in establishing an effective anti-corruption or integrity commission, in requiring timely disclosure of political donations, publishing ministerial diaries and in imposing a lobbyist register without glaring loopholes.

The failure of both sides to act at the federal level undermines the effectiveness of state measures.

So, turns out we do have issues other than tax we should be focusing on.

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Morrison plan shows who he thinks most deserves a tax cut

Scott Morrison wants this election to be all about his redoubled plan for lower taxes. But Treasurer Josh Frydenberg doesn’t want anyone saying it will stop income tax being “progressive”. He’s right. But his claim that the tax system will remain highly progressive is debatable.

In last year’s budget, Morrison announced a three-stage tax cut, spread over seven years. It had a cumulative cost to the government’s revenue of a massive $144 billion over 10 years, with most of that cost coming in the later years.

In the budget Frydenberg produced last week, he doubled down on last year’s plan. He doubled the early part and greatly increased the later parts, at an additional cost of $158 billion over 10 years, taking the total cost to more than $300 billion – an incredible sum in several senses.

I’ll explain the grand plan in a sec, but first let’s be clear on the meaning of three words you hear bandied about whenever tax changes are debated: progressive, regressive and (less commonly) proportional.

A tax is said to be progressive when it takes a progressively higher proportion of people’s income as incomes rise.

The key word here is proportion. You judge “progressivity” not by the dollar amount people pay, or the amount of the cut they get, but by how that amount compares with their income. When a tax takes a higher proportion of a higher income than it does of a lower income, it’s progressive.

Conversely, a tax that takes a higher proportion of lower incomes than it does of higher incomes is said to be regressive.

A tax that takes the same proportion of all incomes, whether high or low, is said to be (you won’t believe this) proportional. It marks the borderline between progressivity and regressivity.

The main progressive tax is personal income tax. The example of a regressive tax people always quote is the goods and services tax.

But, in fact, almost all other taxes are regressive – with the notable exception of tax on the value of land (such as council rates), which is progressive because people with high incomes tend to own more land and more valuable land.

What makes income tax progressive is that your income is taxed in slices, with each extra slice being taxed at a higher rate.

Under the present tax scale – which Morrison’s plan would change in coming years – the first $18,200 of your income goes untaxed, the next $18,800 is taxed at 19¢ in the dollar, the next $53,000 at 32.5¢, the next $90,000 at 37¢, and anything above that at 45¢ in the dollar. (All of which is before you add 2¢ in the dollar for the Medicare levy.)

The slice (or tax bracket) into which the last part of your income falls determines your “marginal” tax rate – the rate you pay on any increase in your income.

Your average tax rate is determined by adding up all the tax you pay on each slice, then dividing that total by your income. Your average tax rate will always be a lot lower than your marginal rate.

For an income tax to be proportional it must have only one rate and no first, tax-free slice. So any income tax scale with a tax-free threshold must be progressive, even if only mildly so.

Now the details of Morrison and Frydenberg’s grand plan. As I said, it cuts tax in three stages over seven years.

The first is an immediate, reasonably generous tax cut (equivalent to about $20 a week) to people on middle incomes, earning between $48,000 and $90,000 a year. Those below that range get a lot less, as do those above it.

The second stage, which comes in three years’ time, July 2022, offers nothing much for people earning below $90,000 a year. For those earning more, there’d be a new tax cut ranging from nothing to $26 a week for those on $120,000 and above.

The third stage, coming a further two years later, in July 2024, offers tax cuts for everyone earning over $45,000 a year, ranging from nothing to about $65 a week for those on incomes up to $180,000 a year – plus another saving of up to $58 a week for those earning up to $200,000 and above.

But here’s a tip. You can think of the first, immediate stage as almost certain to be received because, though it has been only partially legislated, Labor has pledged to put it through.

It’s uncertain, however, whether we’ll ever see the other two stages. It’s not just that they’re so far into the future. It’s also that, though last year’s stages two and three are legislated, Labor says it would repeal them. As for this year’s enhancements of stages two and three, they're not yet legislated, and Labor won’t have a bar of ’em.

But, assuming stages two and three actually come to pass, how would the plan change the tax scale’s progressivity?

Well, with marginal tax rates varying from zero on income up to $18,200 a year, to 45¢ in the dollar on income over $200,000 a year, there can be no doubt that income tax would remain progressive.

But Frydenberg’s claim it would remain “highly progressive” is debatable. Presumably, he bases this on the estimate that the top 6 per cent of taxpayers, those earning more than $200,000 a year, would still be paying 36 per cent of total income tax collections in 2024-25.

Given the (no doubt optimistic) assumptions about how fast wages grow between now and then, this may be arithmetically correct. But it ignores the way the introduction of a massive 30¢-in-the dollar tax bracket running from $45,000 a year to $200,000 would put a big kink in the tax scale, making it significantly less progressive than it was.

The proof: whereas people on incomes between $45,000 and $90,000 would have their average tax rate cut by about 2.5 percentage points, this then rises to a cut of 4.8 percentage points for those on $180,000, before jumping to a maximum cut of 5.8 points for those on $200,000 and above. It’s tough at the top.

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Frydenberg's budget: if it looks too good to be true . . .

What a wonderful world we live in now our politicians have discovered the cure for opportunity cost. In his first budget, Josh Frydenberg is doing a Gladys: he wants us to believe “we can have it all”.

Over the next 10 years, he can give us: tax cuts worth $302 billion, new infrastructure worth $100 billion, sundry other goodies, and a budget that’s back in the black and stays there, so that the net debt falls to zero. Yeah? How?

But first, a flashback. Labor’s Wayne Swan ended up a laughing stock after he began his 2012 budget speech with the immortal words: “The four years of surpluses I announce tonight . . . this budget delivers a surplus this coming year, on time, as promised, and surpluses each year after that, strengthening over time.”

Here's what Frydenberg said seven years later: “Tonight, I am pleased to announce a budget surplus of $7.1 billion . . . In 2020-21, a surplus of $11 billion. In 2021-22, a surplus of $17.8 billion. In 2012-23, a surplus of $9.2 billion. A total of $45 billion of surpluses over the next four years.”

Oh dear. This year even the media knew not to fall into their usual trap of treating the government’s estimate of next year’s budget balance as an already accomplished fact. Actually, we won’t know the “actual” for another 18 months.

But, as usual, the media took little notice of the expected budget balance for the year just ending – a truth the Finance Department’s creative accountants have long exploited to improve the new year’s expected balance at the expense of the old year’s.

Some have questioned why Frydenberg didn’t try harder to turn the old year’s small deficit into a small surplus so that, should the Coalition lose the election, it would have avoided going into the history books as a government that was in power for six years without ever recording a surplus.

Short answer: it couldn’t afford to. Reading the budget papers’ fine print makes it clear the creative department had to put in much furniture shifting to come up with the predicted surplus of $7.1 billion – an amount Frydenberg has been able to assert is “substantial” rather than “wafer thin”.

Think about this: in the old year, government spending is expected to leap by 4.9 per cent in real terms, whereas in the new year it will grow by just 0.1 per cent real. Do you reckon that discontinuity happened by chance?

My colleague Shane Wright has noted the government’s decision to bring forward to the old year $1.3 billion in grants to local councils due to be made in the new year. He could have added that two new one-off cash grants, one to help recipients of residential aged care and another to help pensioners with their energy bills, with a total cost approaching $700 million, will be paid in the old year rather than the new.

The government’s been promising to have the budget “back in the black” by 2019-20 since Joe Hockey’s time. And for some years has been “reprofiling” the timing of payments and receipts to ensure this target is met.

Wright reminds us that a change in the timing of tobacco excise collections announced in last year’s budget will, purely by chance, yield a one-off boost of several billions in the new financial year.

Why are we so anxious to get the budget back in black? Because we want to start reducing the government’s debt. Trouble is, since Peter Costello’s day, successive treasurers have drawn our attention to the underlying cash deficit and away from the ironically named “headline” cash deficit.

That’s a problem because it’s actually the higher headline deficit that has to be funded by borrowing – or, if it’s in surplus, can be used to pay off debt. Guess what? The budget estimates that we’ll still be in headline deficit of $4.4 billion in the coming year, and won’t be in surplus until 2021-22.

The discrepancy is explained mainly by successive governments using an accounting loophole to exclude their spending on the NBN, the second Sydney airport, the inland railway and other projects from the underlying deficit.

Even so, Frydenberg assures us the government’s net debt will have been fully repaid by June 2030 – and he has a lovely graph that proves it. How is our path to a debtless Nirvana achieved?

By assuming that government spending grows with almost unprecedented slowness despite the ageing of the population, that the economy grows strongly for another 10 years without missing a beat and with productivity improving each year at a rate faster than we’ve achieved in decades, and – get this – that the government’s financial assets will grow by almost 3 percentage points to 12.8 per cent of gross domestic product.

When it comes to creativity, Australia’s politicians are second to none.

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Budget makes Frydenberg an unwitting Keynesian stimulator

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg doesn’t want anyone saying the budget he unveiled this week involves applying some “fiscal stimulus” to get the economy moving faster. He’d prefer to say his budget is “pro-growth”.

But what is fiscal stimulus? And does that label apply to this year’s budget? Only if you’re prepared to be called a “Keynesian” economist. Which Frydenberg isn’t.

Why not? Because in the hard right circles in which many Liberals move, the name of John Maynard Keynes (rhymes with Brains) has become a swearword. (That’s because their penchant for dividing people into political friends and foes exceeds their understanding of economics.)

The K-word isn’t one used a lot by the Reserve Bank. My guess is it would be quite pleased with what Frydenberg has done in coming up with his own version of what, when Kevin Rudd did it after the global financial crisis in 2008, was dubbed a “cash splash”.

But the Reserve would limit itself to saying Frydenberg has made the budget “less contractionary” than it would have been.

The “fiscal” in fiscal stimulus is just a flash word for anything to do with the budget. The managers of the macro economy often do things intended to stimulate it to grow faster, create more jobs and make us more prosperous.

In last year’s budget, Scott Morrison introduced a new “low and middle income tax offset” (known to aficionados as the lamington) worth $530 a year, to be received by workers earning between $48,000 and $90,000 a year, with those on lower or higher incomes getting lesser amounts, starting from last July.

The offset was equivalent to about $10 a week but, because it’s a “tax offset”, they don’t get it until they’ve submitted their annual tax return at the end of the financial year and received their tax refund cheque. That cheque (these days actually a transfer to their bank account) will include the offset.

So workers should receive their first offset payment as a lump sum sometime in the September quarter of this year.

But this week the government decided to increase the amount of the offset by $550 and to backdate it to last July. So about 4.5 million taxpayers will be given a cash grant of $1080 in a few months’ time. When they spend that money, it should give the economy a kick along.

First point to understand, however, is that though the motive for the policy changes politicians announce in budgets is usually political – they just want to buy our votes, for instance - that doesn’t stop those measures having an effect on the economy.

Economists ignore the political motivations and focus on the likely economic effects.

Second point, while it’s easy to see that something as sexy as a tax cut could, when it’s spent, add to economic activity, that’s just as true of the government's spending to build new infrastructure, or add new medicines to the pharmaceutical benefits scheme, or spend more on education.

So what will stimulate the economy is all the new programs the government decides to spend on, less any cuts in government spending or new tax increases it makes.

The budget papers show that, since the midyear budget update in December, the government’s decisions to change tax and spending programs total $5.7 billion, spread over the present financial year and the coming year.

That total stimulus is equivalent to about 0.3 per cent of gross domestic product – meaning that, despite all the excitement, it’s not exactly huge.

Third point, while most people see immediately that the things governments do with their budgets affect the economy, it takes them longer to realise that, particularly because the economy (GDP) is about four times bigger than the budget, the things the economy does also affect the budget.

That is, there’s a two-way relationship between the budget and the economy.

As the economy grows during the upswing of the business cycle, this should improve the budget balance, as the progressivity of the income tax scale (aka bracket creep) causes income tax collections to grow faster than income itself, and government spending on dole payments falls as more people find jobs.

Alternatively, as the economy slows during the downswing of the business cycle, tax collections also slow down and dole payments grow as people lose their jobs.

Keynesian economists refer to this source of improvement or deterioration in the budget balance as the “cyclical” component.

In contrast, they refer to the improvement or deterioration in the budget balance caused by the explicit decisions of the government to change taxes and government spending as the “structural” component.

Keynesians judge the “stance of policy” adopted in the budget by the change in this structural component. And, as we’ve seen, they’d judge the stance this year to be mildly stimulatory.

The Reserve – which needs to know what effect changes in the budget are having on the strength of demand in the economy so it can decide what it needs to do about interest rates – makes no distinction between the cyclical and structural components of the budget balance.

It simply looks at the direction and size of the expected change in the overall budget balance, which it calls the “fiscal impact”.

As well as seeing that the balance was expected to swing from deficit to surplus, it would note from the budget papers that, since the midyear budget update in December, tax collections and spending underruns were expected to improve the budget balance by $9.7 billion over the present and coming financial years.

In other words, the budget was now expected to take a further $9.7 billion more out of the economy than it put back in. Such a fiscal impact would be contractionary, not stimulatory.

But Frydenberg’s new spending and tax cut, costing $5.7 billion, will make the budget a bit less contractionary than it could have been. Good.

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The budget's getting better, but the economy's getting worse

Why would a government that boasts of its superior economic management be entering an election campaign with a budget warning of harder economic times ahead? Because it has no choice.

It will turn this admission of a bleaker economic outlook – with a slowdown in the global economy and, domestically, the risk that falling house prices could further weaken consumer spending – into a warning that now is just the wrong time to turn the economy over to those bunglers in the Labor Party, but this will be making the best of a bad deal.

There’s nothing new about a big give-away pre-election budget, but the budget we’ll see on Tuesday night will be different in several respects. For one thing, it’s not often you get a full budget that’s timed to be the kick-off of a six-week election campaign.

It will be more like an election policy speech than a budget, since none of its measures will have been legislated, let alone put into effect. Unless the Coalition wins, it’s a budget we’ll never hear of again.

For another thing, it’s reasonable to expect that strong economies and strong budgets go together, as do weak economies and weak budgets. The state of economy determines the state of the budget balance.

Not this time. As Deloitte Access Economics’ Chris Richardson has observed, “the economy is getting worse, but the budget is getting better”. Let’s start with the budget.

Politically, this budget is built on a fiction: that its centrepiece, a further round of tax cuts (and possibly one-off cash grants to pensioners) on top of last year’s three-stage, seven-year tax cuts costing $144 billion over 10 years, is the fruit of the government’s success in returning the budget to surplus, not a sign of its political desperation.

In truth, the government’s budgetary record is hardly anything to boast about, particularly when you remember the confident promises it made while in opposition about how quickly and easily it could eliminate “debt and deficit”.

The deficit may be gone, but there's still a lot of debt - which the Coalition seems in no hurry to pay back.

We know the government will budget for a decent surplus in the coming financial year, but it’s so close to balance in the present year that it would take only minor creative accounting to produce a “surprise” surplus a year earlier than promised.

When you remember how close to balance Labor’s Wayne Swan got in 2012-13, however, it’s surprising it’s taken the Coalition all of two terms to get us to where we now are.

You can blame this on lack of political will, but it’s now more apparent than it has been that the delay is a product of the economy’s slowness to recover from the Great Recession we supposedly didn’t have.

Even since Swan’s day, the econocrats – including the Reserve Bank – have each year been forecasting an early return to strong economic growth and a greatly improved budget balance.

And, each year, their forecasts have proved way too optimistic, particularly for a return to strong wage growth. A return to economic business as usual has repeatedly eluded us.

It’s not the econocrats’ fault, it’s the slowness of all of us to realise that the “secular stagnation” that’s dogged the United States and the other advanced economies is also dogging us. But with the economy’s unexpected slowing to growth of just 2.3 per cent over 2018 – or 0.7 per cent when you subtract population growth – it’s now a lot harder not to realise.

Few remember that Tony Abbott’s ill-fated first budget in 2014 was carefully designed to do little to reduce the budget deficit for the first three years because the economy was still too weak withstand a move to contractionary fiscal policy.

The surprising fact is, little has changed in all the years since then. This is the macro-economic justification for Tuesday’s purely politically motivated announcement of further tax cuts. The economy’s still too weak to withstand contractionary fiscal policy as the budget heads into surplusland.

But, in that case, how have we finally got back to surplus? Partly, through surprisingly limited real growth in government spending. But, mainly, through years of bracket creep, the exhaustion of companies’ prior tax losses, more effective anti-avoidance measures and, above all, the good luck of a (probably temporary) recovery in coal and iron ore prices and, thus, mining company profits.

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg will be hoping to convince us the budget improvement is lasting, but the weak economy is temporary. It’s more likely to be the other way round.

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Generational conflict comes to a polling place near you

The most memorable news photo I’ve seen in ages is one from the first School Strike 4 Climate late last year. It shows a young woman holding a sign: MESS WITH OUR CLIMATE & WE’LL MESS WITH YOUR PENSION.

One minute we oldies are berating the younger generation for their seeming lack of interest in politics (although, having arrived on the scene at a time when our politicians are behaving so badly, who could blame them?), the next we’re criticising them for missing a day of school.

When you remember how many days of uni the baby boomers missed with all their marches against the Vietnam war, the odd day off school hardly signifies. (Not that I’d want to discourage the ageing climate-change deniers from criticising the school-dodgers. When you’re growing up, defying adult authority is a big part of the motivation.)

Whenever I get the chance, I have a simple message for youngsters: you’d better start taking an interest in politics because it’s the people who aren’t watching that the pollies end up screwing.

The truth is our young people are interested in political issues, but that interest is unfashionably idealistic. They really care about fairness to the LGBTI community, climate change and the environment more broadly.

They’re not yet sufficiently old and cynical to have realised that politics has devolved into a self-centred free-for-all, where you jump into the ring to advance and protect your own interests at the expense of those with less muscle.

When last my colleague Jessica Irvine expressed support for Labor’s plan to end the refunding of unused dividend imputation credits to all except those receiving an age pension or part-pension, an angry reader accused her of “continuing to fuel the fire of inter-generational envy”.

Sorry, that argument doesn’t wash. It’s one the well-off and their champions have used for ages. What it’s really saying is, “it’s a sin for you to envy the fruits of my greed”.

When people accuse others of “the politics of envy” or inciting “class warfare”, their true message is: I’m winning, you’re losing, so why won’t you just accept it? Just be nice and stop trying to make things fairer.

(Speaking of sin, when last I supported the reform of imputation credits, a reader accused me of “preaching”. Sorry, when your father spent his life preaching two sermons a Sunday, it’s only to be expected. And I’m old enough to regard being likened to my father as a compliment, not an insult.)

Stripping away the religious overtones, there is, always has been and probably always will be plenty of scope for conflict between the generations. The solution is for the generation presently in power
to put its children’s interests ahead of its own (see climate change above).

Almost all of us do this in our private lives (it’s clear a lot of the well-off retired fighting to retain imputation credits are motivated by maximising their kids’ inheritance, and we’re happy for the bank of mum and dad to help our children into home-ownership), but when it comes to public policy we’re easily seduced by politicians seeking our votes with promises of short-term gain for long-term pain.

Not enough people realise that our system of taxes and benefits is explicitly designed to move money between the generations.

People – mainly younger people - with jobs and no kids pay a lot more in taxes (all taxes) than they get back in benefits (whether in cash or kind, such as education and healthcare), whereas families with kids get back a lot more than they pay. Couples whose kids have grown up but who are still working pay more than they get back, and then the retired get back a lot more than they pay.

Since almost all of us will progress through each of these stages, this money-shifting should pretty much even out over our lives. So, until relatively recently, it’s been seen as fair. It’s the basis for the oldies’ eternal sense of entitlement: “I’ve paid taxes all my life . . .”

But this has changed. As our leading independent think tank, the Grattan Institute, has demonstrated, tax changes over the past two decades have been “hugely generous” to older Australians.

“Older households pay $7500 [a year] less in income tax in real terms today than older households 20 years ago, despite high increases in average incomes,” it found. “Taxes on working-age households have risen over the same period.”

Most of this is explained by changes made by John Howard to benefit the alleged “self-funded retirees” (including making unused imputation credits refundable) and similar changes to superannuation tax breaks made by Peter Costello.

Add in Howard’s more favourable tax treatment of negatively geared property investments, and the young are dead right to believe the tax system has been biased against them and in favour of the better-off old (including me).

They’d also be right to see the looming federal election campaign as a battle between one side seeking to reduce the system’s bias against the young and the other fighting to protect the recently conferred perks of the well-off aged.

But a note to outraged Millennials: Howard is no baby boomer and the intended beneficiaries of his munificence were his own and earlier generations. Only some of the world’s evils were installed by my privileged generation.

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Rates of tax tell us nothing about economic success

When Leigh Sales of 7.30 asked Scott Morrison what evidence he had to support his claim that the economy would be weaker under Labor because it would impose higher taxes, he replied “I think it’s just fundamental economics 101”. Sorry, don’t think so.

The belief that an increase in taxes must, of necessity, discourage work effort, saving and investing is regarded as a self-evident truth by the well-paid. Similarly with the converse: a decrease in taxes must, of necessity, encourage work effort, saving and investing.

But since no one particularly enjoys paying taxes – and some people really hate it – they would think that, wouldn’t they.

It’s a simple, all-purpose, no-need-to-explain argument against me being asked to pay more tax and in favour of me paying less. What’s not to like?

Just that it misrepresents what economics teaches.

It’s true that some economists emphasise the “deadweight loss” involved in imposing taxes. In principle, a tax distorts an individual’s choices, causing them to do things they otherwise wouldn’t.

This distortion of choices is said to be “economically inefficient”, in that it fails to produce the allocation of economic resources – land, labour and capital – that maximises the “utility” (satisfaction) the community derives.

The degree of allocative inefficiency differs for different taxes, with some said to involve greater deadweight loss than others.

By this logic, one of the worst taxes is conveyancing duty (which discourages people from moving house) and the best is a poll tax (everyone pays the same dollar amount each year which, being impossible to avoid, doesn’t change behaviour).

One thing often not mentioned in economics 101 is that tax on the unimproved value of land (such as council rates) and inheritance taxes score well.

But these calculations are based on theory and assumptions. The first of their limitations is that they ignore the benefits that flow when the taxes are spent. When they’re spent on government provision of “public goods” (goods or services that would be undersupplied if their provision was left to the private sector) they increase allocative efficiency.

You shouldn’t have to go beyond first year economics to learn that changes in the price of something have two effects: an “income effect” and a “substitution effect”.

People who believe an increase in income tax (which is a price) discourages work, and a cut in income tax encourages it, are focusing on the substitution effect and ignoring the income effect.

It’s true that a higher rate of income tax should discourage work by reducing the monetary benefit you get from it, relative to the benefit you get from not working. That is, from enjoying more “leisure”. It thus should encourage you to substitute leisure for work – that is, work less.

 By contrast, lowering the tax on work should encourage people to substitute work for leisure – work more.

Trouble is, the income effect works the opposite way. Increasing income tax reduces your after-tax income. If you don’t want your income to fall, you have to do more work, not less. Similarly, cutting income tax increases your after-tax income, encouraging you to work less.

The fact that the income effect and the substitution effect pull in opposite directions means economic theory can’t tell us whether or not tax increases discourage work. To answer that question you have seek out empirical evidence from the real world.

In doing so you’ll make up for theory’s implicit assumption that money is the only factor motivating people to work. If that’s what you think, you’ve got a lot to learn about human nature.

The empirical evidence says changes in the rate of income tax for “primary earners” – the main person a family relies on for income, who’s usually working full-time – aren’t great.

It’s only “secondary earners” - often women working part-time – whose hours of work are much influenced by increases or decreases in income tax.

This is pretty obvious when you think about it. The number of hours worked by full-time employees is set by their boss, whereas part-timers have some degree of control over the hours they work. Certainly, they decide whether they want to move from part-time to full-time.

Let me tell you: politicians’ motive for tax cuts is almost always more political than economic. If Morrison was really on about encouraging more work, his tax cuts would be aimed at working mothers, not the highly paid full-timers they are aimed at.

But there’s another empirical test of his confident assertion that high rates of tax discourage economic growth and low rates encourage it.

If that were true it should also be true that countries with high tax rates have low living standards, whereas countries with low tax rates have high living standards.

Try as they might, however, economists have never been able to find an inverse correlation between the level of taxes and a country’s rate of growth.

For a start, the poor countries have much lower rates of total taxation than the rich ones. Rich countries have high tax rates so they can enjoy the many benefits of being rich: the welfare state, good public infrastructure, good health care, good education and much else.

The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development regularly publishes figures for their 35 member-countries’ rates of total taxation (federal and state) as a percentage of gross domestic product.

Its latest figures, for 2017, show its rich-country members ranging from 46 per cent for France and Denmark to 23 per cent for Ireland. Sweden is on 44 per cent, Germany on 37.5 per cent.

The average for the whole OECD is 34 per cent, with us on about 28 per cent and the United States on 27 per cent (but with a much bigger budget deficit).

If they don’t tell you all that in economics 101, ask for your money back.

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How canny treasurers keep the tax we pay out of sight

We can be sure that tax and tax “reform” will be a big topic (yet again) this year, but what will get less attention is how behavioural economics explains the shape of the existing tax system and makes it hard to change.

I read that this year we may attain the economists’ Holy Grail of replacing state conveyancing duty with a broad-based annual tax on the unimproved value of land under people’s principal residence.

Economists regard taxing homes whenever they change hands as highly economically inefficient because it discourages people from moving when they need to move, whereas taxing the ownership of land as highly efficient because it’s hard to avoid and is naturally “progressive”, hitting the rich harder than the poor.

Holy grails are, however, wondrous things, but almost impossible to attain. Economists have been preaching the virtues of such a switch for at least the past 30 years, with precious few converts (bar, in recent times, the ACT government).

Why have state politicians been so unreceptive to such a patently good idea? Because politicians instinctively understand what most conventional economists don’t: the wisdom of Louis XIV’s finance minister’s declaration that “the art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest possible amount of feathers with the smallest possible amount of hissing”.

Or, to put it another way, because conventional economists don’t know enough behavioural economics – the study of how the world actually works thanks to human fallibility, rather than how it would work if we were all as rational as economic textbooks assume us to be.

A central element of the political economy of taxation is that what the punters don’t notice they don’t worry about.

And to every revenue-hungry state treasurer (which is all of ’em), the great virtue of conveyancing duty is that when you’re buying a place for $1 million and someone presents you with a tax bill for $40,000, it looks a relatively small amount and the least of your worries right now.

By contrast, when you open your mail one day and find the government demanding to be paid, say, $5000, you tend to get resentful. Because we’ve spent all our lives in a market economy, we’re used to the notion that, if you want something, you have to pay for it.

And with the converse: you don’t shell out good money without getting something you want in return. Annual land tax breaches that rule: you write a cheque for five grand and just post it off into the void. (This was also part of the reason the old “provisional tax” was so unpopular.)

Behavioural economists demonstrate empirically what politically astute treasurers know instinctively: you greatly reduce the hissing if you can whip the tax away without it being seen. This is why, when introducing the goods and services tax, Peter Costello wrote into the act the requirement that retail prices be quoted inclusive of the tax, without the tax being shown separately.

Of course, for wage earners, personal income tax has worked that way for decades. The pay office extracts an estimate of the tax you’ll have to pay and sends it to the taxman before you even see your pay.

After a while, you pretty much forget you’re paying tax on much of what you buy and are being paid much less than you’re earning. Which also demonstrates the wisdom of a saying familiar to treasurers: a new tax is a bad tax; an old tax is a good tax.

We object loudly to almost all proposals for new taxes – land tax on the family home, a road congestion tax and many more. We spent 25 years working up the courage to impose a value-added tax on “almost everything we buy” (during which time we copied the Kiwis’ crafty idea of renaming it the more innocuous “goods and services tax”).

But here’s the trick: once the new tax has been passed and taken effect, it takes only a year or two for us to accept it as part of the furniture. Behavioural economists call this quirk of human nature “status-quo bias”.

And, of course, just about the oldest tax of all is what Malcolm Fraser used to call “the secret tax of inflation” aka bracket creep.

It’s the tax increase you have when you don’t like tax increases.

Our “revealed preference” (not what we say, but what we do) is that bracket creep's our favourite tax.

Which is why treasurers of both colours give us so much of it.

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How about a Robin Hood carbon tax to combat climate change?

What does a public-spirited citizen do when a government makes a solemn commitment to do something important, but simply can’t come up with a policy measure to keep that commitment? Why, they come up with their own suggestion to fill the vacuum.

If you haven’t guessed, the government in question is Scott Morrison’s. The solemn commitment is our Paris agreement to cut our greenhouse gas emissions by 26 or 28 per cent from 2005 levels by 2030.

As part of his overthrow, the government backbench refused to accept former prime minister Malcolm Turnbull’s NEG – national energy guarantee – policy. But Morrison hasn’t been able to come up with a policy measure to take its place.

The public-spirited citizen – or citizens – are Richard Holden, an economics professor at the University of NSW, and Rosalind Dixon, a professor of law at the same uni (who just happen to be married).

This week the pair launched a proposal for an “Australian climate dividend plan” as part of the uni’s “grand challenge on inequality”.

The plan is for a carbon tax, levied at the rate of $50 per tonne of carbon dioxide emissions, not just from electricity generation, but also from transport fuels, direct combustion, fugitive emissions and industrial production processes.

The pair estimate the tax would raise net revenue of about $21 billion a year – and would, of course, raise the retail prices of electricity, gas, petrol, diesel, cement and various other products subject to the tax.

Not likely to be politically popular? Here’s the trick: the $21 billion would be returned to every Australian citizen of voting age, in the form of a tax-free “dividend” payment of about $1300 per person per year.

Because the amount of tax a person paid would vary with the amount of their consumption of taxable items (which, in turn, would vary roughly in line with the size of their incomes), but everyone’s dividend would be a flat $1300 a year, this would produce net winners and net losers.

Holden and Dixon estimate the average household would be a net $585 a year better off. The poorest 25 per cent of households would be better off by more than double that. The net losers would be people whose high spending on taxed items put them on incomes way above average.

Get it? The tax would be highly “progressive”, taking from the rich and giving to the poor. There need be no concern that low-income families would be adversely affected by the new tax. (This, BTW, is how the plan fits the “grand challenge on inequality”.)

And don’t forget this. Pollution taxes such as a tax on carbon are intended to encourage people to avoid paying them. How? By using or doing less of the undesirable thing that’s being taxed.

There are many ways a family could reduce the carbon tax it pays. Avoid wasting electricity and gas. When replacing household appliances, make the next one more energy efficient. Make your next car more fuel efficient.

And here’s an idea: why not generate your own power by putting solar panels on the roof? The higher cost of electricity from the grid would mean the investment paid for itself all the quicker.

In other words, an individual family could increase its net saving by paying less tax but still getting its $1300 annual dividend.

Of course, if too many people did that, the total amount of tax collected would be a lot lower and so the amount of the dividend would need to be reduced.

And, indeed, since the object of the exercise is to significantly reduce our carbon emissions, the tax’s ideal is that next to no one ends up paying it. The more successful the tax, the less it collects. If so, the dividend would start high, but gradually fall to zero.

Since the higher prices of the taxed products they produced would discourage their customers from buying as much, the carbon tax would also create an incentive for the affected businesses to find ways of reducing the emissions caused by those products.

Innovations that made this possible would be very valuable. One obvious way for electricity retailers to reduce the tax on their product (and hence, its price) would be to buy more renewable energy (whose generation involves few emissions) and less coal-fired energy (whose generation involves heavy emissions).

Underlying the economists’ preoccupation with “putting a price on carbon (dioxide)” is their concern that the greenhouse gases emitted by use of fossil fuels impose a cost on society - global warming – that isn’t reflected in the prices charged by producers of emission-intensive products and paid by their customers.

This means that, left to their own devices, the price mechanism and market forces will do nothing to discourage private sellers and buyers of these products from imposing the “social” cost of global warming on all of us.

In other words, emissions and other forms of pollution are outside the economy’s system of private prices. That’s why economists call them “externalities”. Because they’re a cost to society, they’re a “negative” externality. (An example of a “positive externality” is the small benefit to the rest of us when little Janey takes herself off to uni to get an education, which she does purely for her own (private) benefit.)

In econospeak, the point of “putting a price on carbon” is to “internalise the externality”. To get it into the prices charged and paid by private sellers and buyers. Why? To give them a monetary incentive to find ways to reduce the social cost their polluting activity is imposing on us.

In the absence of a carbon price, polluting coal-fired electricity has an undesirable price advantage over non-polluting renewables electricity. This is the economic justification for government subsidy schemes for renewables electricity and household solar power systems.

But Holden and Dixon remind us that, if we introduced their Robin Hood carbon tax, those subsidies would no longer be needed, saving governments (and often, other power users) about $2.5 billion a year.

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Tax reform is pushed by rich males, for rich males

I know it’s a shocking thing for an economics writer to confess, but I’ve lost my faith in the Search for the Golden Tax System. I no longer believe that reforming our tax system is the magic key to improving the nation’s economic and social wellbeing.

As we start to review the modest achievements of the Abbott-Turnbull-Morrison government over the past five years, business people, economists and accountants are lamenting its lack of progress on tax reform.

It raised expectations of sorely needed reform, then wilted at the first hint of political difficulty. The Rudd-Gillard-Rudd government did little better in its six years.

So, the zealots are telling us, the tax system remains unreformed, a millstone around our economy whose threat to our future becomes ever-more urgent. Every so often, one of the big four firms of chartered accountants comes up with its own plan to fix everything.

Sorry, not buying. It’s true our tax system is far from ideal, but if after decades of trying we’re still no closer to nirvana, it’s doubtful we ever will be.

Meanwhile, other aspects of the economy just as important to our present and future wellbeing, and just as in need of “reform”, languish while we obsess about taxes.

Such as? Education and training. Health. Cities with long commute times. “Sorry, we’ll get on to it as soon as we’ve increased the GST.”

The never-ending quest for tax reform is being promoted partly by econocrats, tax economists and tax accountants who specialise in the topic and have little to contribute on other issues.

But the biggest push is coming from rich white males in big business. Their goal is to “reform” the tax system so that they and their company pay less and others pay more. No matter how long it takes, they won’t “move on” until they’ve got what they want.

She didn’t put it this way, but the truth that tax “reform” has long been pushed by well-off men for their own benefit – and at the expense of less well-paid women – was demonstrated in a paper given at a tax conference last week by one of our leading tax economists, Professor Patricia Apps, of the University of Sydney Law School.

She showed how the Productivity Commission’s recent report finding there’d been no increase in inequality in recent decades rested on lumping couples’ incomes together, ignoring the difference in contributions by each partner and, in particularly, assuming that “home produced goods and services” - such as childcare, cooking or cleaning - make no contribution to the family’s standard of living, so can be ignored when they have to be bought in because both partners are working.

To be fair, the commission did its analysis the way it’s usually done. But that’s because such analysis is mainly done by men, to whom it never occurs to take account of home production.

Apps used samples of more than 2400 households from the official household expenditure surveys in 2004 and 2016 to divide their income between that contributed by the “primary earner” (mainly male) and the “secondary earner” (mainly female). Primary earners were aged between 20 and 60.

She found that over 12 years, the incomes of primary earners’ in the bottom decile (group of 10 per cent) rose by 53 per cent, increasing to a 78 per cent rise for those in the eighth decile and 124 per cent for the top decile. Look like rising inequality to you?

Then she estimated the income tax those primary earners paid, after adjusting for inflation. Comparing the last year with the first, those in the bottom decile got a real tax saving of $1450 a year, whereas those in the top decile got a saving of $12,340 a year.

So, high income earners benefited most. But get this: after the bottom decile the tax saving fell to a low of $200 for the fifth decile and $370 for the sixth. It then started rising slowly until it leapt for the top decile.

See what’s happened? Very low income earners have done OK, earners at the very top have done brilliantly, and people around the middle have got peanuts. Guess where the (mainly female) secondary earners are likely to be congregated?

Of course, the high income-earners keep telling us their tax rates need to be cut to encourage them to work harder. But Apps has calculated the workers’ “labour supply elasticity”. In effect, she finds it’s very elastic (price-sensitive) for part-timers, but quite inelastic for full-timers, particularly those who’re highly paid.

Looking at primary earners in the top decile, she found that, despite their huge pay rise over the 12 years, and their generous tax cuts, the average number of hours they were working was virtually unchanged.

The various tax changes we’ve had – which aren’t nearly enough to satisfy the tax reformers – have favoured (mainly male) high income-earners, without any sign it’s made them work more.

The people whose decisions about whether to leave the home to do paid work, or to move from part-time to full-time, are those most likely to be affected by the tax they have to pay, but are no better off and probably worse off.

No prize for guessing these are mainly women with children. All this is long known by true tax experts – but just as long ignored. Tax reform is a game for well-off men on the make. Wake me when the women take over.

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Morrison optimistic we’ll get much bracket creep

The mystery revealed. Consider this: how does the Morrison government cut income and company taxes and avoid big cuts in government spending, but still project ever-rising budget surpluses and ever-falling net public debt over the next decade?

With publication of the Parliamentary Budget Office’s report on the May budget’s medium-term projections, we now know. Short answer: by assuming loads more bracket creep between now and then.

You may remember that, at the time of budget, I was highly critical of the rosy forecasts and assumptions used in the budget’s “forward estimates” from 2018-19 to 2021-22, and then in its “medium-term projections” out for a further seven years to 2028-29.

They showed the budget’s underlying cash balance returning to a tiny surplus in 2019-20, then the surplus growing steadily to about 1.3 per cent of gross domestic product by the end of the decade.

As a consequence, the government’s net debt would peak in June this year at 18.6 per cent of GDP, then fall sharply to just 3 per cent in 2028-29 as the annual surpluses were used to repay debt.

There you go. Big cuts in company tax and a plan for three cuts in income tax, but we’ll soon be back in the black and eliminating the debt. I thought then it sounded too good to be true.

The budget office, which is independent of the government, is required by its Act to accept the government’s forecasts and macro-economy assumptions for its projections. But the budget papers gave no details of how, according to the government’s projections, the budget surplus would grow from 0.8 per cent of GDP in 2021-22 to 1.3 per cent in 2028-29.

This is what the office’s report tells us. It does so using its own modelling of each of the main taxes and 23 big spending programs, while sticking to the government’s macro-economy assumptions.

The report’s projections show total receipts ending the seven years where they began, at 25.5 per cent of GDP, while total spending grows more slowly than GDP so that it falls from 24.7 per cent to 24.1 per cent.

This implies that all the projected improvement in the budget surplus is expected to come from many years of amazingly disciplined spending restraint. But such a conclusion misses an obvious question: how can total receipts stay growing as fast as the economy is projected to grow when the government is planning to cut the rate of company tax by a sixth (from 30 to 25 per cent) and have three cuts in income tax?

Ah, that’s the report’s big reveal. Its projections show company tax collections declining as a proportion of GDP and “other receipts” also declining, but with this being exactly offset by the growth in income tax collections.

And that would be made possible by the fiscal magic of bracket creep. Remember bracket creep? It was the justification for the tax cuts and, according to then-treasurer Scott Morrison, the tax cuts would “eliminate bracket creep for the middle class”.

Or not. Turns out, according to the report’s projections, there’ll be so much continuing bracket creep as to more than wipe out the benefit from the promised tax cuts.

Taken over the full 10 years – and remembering that the first of the tax cuts began in July this year - income tax collections are projected to rise from 11.2 per cent to 12.5 per cent as a proportion of GDP, a huge jump of 1.3 percentage points.

Over the same decade, the average tax rate across all taxpayers is projected to rise from 22.9¢ in every dollar to 25.2¢. But here’s another important revelation by the report: some people do much better from the tax cuts than others, while bracket creep doesn’t affect everyone equally, either.

The report ranks everyone paying income tax according to their income, then divides them into five groups of about 2.9 million each - “quintiles” – from lowest to highest. It then looks at the way the average tax rate in each quintile is affected by the tax cut and by bracket creep. It looks at the change from 2017-18 to 2026-27.

On average, the three-stage tax plan will cut the average tax rate paid by people in the bottom quintile by just 0.3¢ in the dollar. Those in the second and third quintiles will save 0.9¢, while those in the fourth quintile save 1.1¢ and those in the top quintile save 2.1¢ in every dollar.

(This, BTW, is the proof that the three-stage tax plan does change the progressive income tax scale in a regressive direction, making it significantly less progressive.)

Now, the effect of bracket creep (before allowing for the tax cuts). It raises the bottom quintile’s average tax rate by 1.1¢ in the dollar, then the second and third’s by 5.4¢, but the fourth’s by 3.7¢ and the top quintile’s by just 2.9¢ in the dollar.

Leaving aside the bottom quintile (where most people rely on benefits and earn little income), the big net losers - bracket creep less tax cut – are those in the second and third quintiles. That is, those earning between 30 percentage points below the median income and 10 points above it.

Another name for such people is “low to middle income-earners” – the very people Morrison claimed his cuts were aimed at helping most.

But before you get too steamed up, remember that the budget office is merely exposing the previously hidden implications of the government’s medium-term projection and the rosy assumptions it depends on.

The key assumptions are “above-trend economic growth for much of the period” – which contains a hidden assumption that our record of 27 years without a severe recession will roll on for another 10 – and, in particular, “a return to trend wage growth”.

That is, it will take only a few years before wages are back to growing by 3.5 per cent a year – a percentage point faster than prices – and will stay growing that fast for the duration.

It’s this strong wage growth that does most to produce the bracket creep. So, if you’re not as optimistic about wages grow, you don’t need to be as concerned about bracket creep. By the same token, however, we wouldn’t be making as much progress reducing public debt.

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Budget office fills vacuum left by politicised Treasury

I see the federal Auditor-General has been less than complimentary about the Turnbull government’s cashless welfare card. The cheek! I say the man should be removed and replaced by a Liberal Party staffer forthwith.

Always provided the staffer has done at least a year or two of accounting at uni, of course. Wouldn’t do for voters to gain the impression his chief qualifications were his years of loyal service as a ministerial flunky.

If this ironic scenario seems over the top, it’s not way over. If the present Auditor-General actually had incurred the government’s serious displeasure, it would be more likely to wait until his statutory term had expired before replacing him with someone less likely to provide it – and us – with critical advice.

You don’t have to be very long in the workforce to realise that one of the hallmarks of a bad manager is his (or occasionally her) penchant for surrounding themselves with yes-men. See that happening and you know you’re in the presence of a disaster waiting to happen.

But installing a tame auditor-general wouldn’t be a big step beyond the flouting of convention and good governance we’ve seen the government engaged in over the past two weeks.

Following Tony Abbott’s unprecedented dismissal of the secretary to the Treasury in 2013, and his replacement with hand-picked candidate John Fraser, Malcolm Turnbull and Scott Morrison have now completed the politicisation of Treasury.

What an accomplishment for Malcolm to include when he boasts in his memoirs about the glorious achievements of his reign.

With the sudden resignation of Fraser, he was replaced by Philip Gaetjens, whose service as chief-of-staff to Peter Costello and then Morrison himself was interspersed with his time as secretary of the NSW Treasury, appointed by the O’Farrell government after it sacked the apolitical secretary it inherited from the Keneally government, Michael Schur.

The timing of Fraser’s departure was portrayed as all his own inconvenient idea, which may well be true. But, with the federal election so close, it reminds me of a trick practised by the self-perpetuating boards of the mutual insurance companies of old.

Any director not wishing to serve another term would resign just a few months before his term expired. This would allow the board to select his successor, and that successor’s name to go onto the ballot paper with an asterisk beside it, certifying to the voting punters that he was a tried-and-true incumbent.

Morrison then topped off this innovation in Jobs for the Boys by installing Simon Atkinson, a former chief-of-staff to Finance Minister Mathias Cormann, as a deputy secretary in Treasury.

Worse, Atkinson got the job to replace Michael Brennan, who’s been moved up to be the new chairman of the Productivity Commission, which has had a long and proud tradition of independence, giving fearless advice to governments of both colours.

We’ll see how long that lasts. Morrison tacitly admitted Brennan’s appointment was questionable by using his press release to make Brennan sound like a career public servant, conspicuously failing to mention he’d been a staffer for two Howard government ministers and a Liberal Victorian treasurer, not to mention a candidate for Liberal state preselection.

My greatest fear is that the next Labor federal government will use this bad precedent to behave the same way, thus making the politicisation of government departments and supposedly independent agencies bipartisan policy. What a great step forward that would be.

Fortunately, as trust in the professional integrity of Treasury forecasts and assessments declines, the vacuum is being filled by the rise of the Parliamentary Budget Office, which has the same expertise as Treasury, Finance and the spending departments, but is independent of the elected government.

Just last week it produced a most revealing report on the sustainability of federal taxes, one Treasury would have had trouble getting published even in the good old days.

Its message is that there are structural vulnerabilities limiting the future revenue-raising potential of most federal taxes, with the main exception being income tax and that eternal standby of dissembling politicians on both sides, the supposed evil they only pretend to disapprove of: bracket creep.

This is the last thing either side would want us thinking about before the election.

After all, thanks to the budget’s chronically overoptimistic forecasts and what-could-possibly-go-wrong 10-year projections of endless budget surpluses and ever-falling public debt, they can afford to turn the coming election into a tax-cut bidding war.

Vote for me and I’ll cut taxes more than the other guy.

The budget office has punctured that happy fantasy. After the election, whomever we vote for will have to find a way to cover not just the cost of ever-growing but untouchable spending on health, education and all the rest, but also the tax system’s built-in inadequacies.

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