Key reform needed to fix debt and deficit: ditch stage 3 tax cut

Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg won’t admit it. But most economists agree that at the right time, the government should take measures to hasten the budget’s return to balance, even – to use a newly unspeakable word – “surplus”.

Economists may differ on what they consider to be the right time. But, if we’re to avoid repeating the error the major economies made in 2010 by jamming on the fiscal (budgetary) policy brakes well before the recovery was strong enough for the economy to take the contraction in its stride, the right time will be when the economy has returned to full employment, with no spare production capacity.

At that point, the inflation rate’s likely to be back within the Reserve Bank’s 2 to 3 per cent target range, with wage growth of 3 per cent or more. Any further fiscal stimulus from a continuing budget deficit would risk pushing inflation above the target, and could induce a “monetary policy reaction function” where the independent Reserve countered that risk by raising interest rates.

So, better for the government to act before the Reserve acts for it. And if you take the econocrats’ best guess at the level of full employment – when unemployment is down to between 5 and 4.5 per cent – and take the budget’s forecasts at face value (itself a risky thing to do) the right time will be in the middle of 2023.

But the growth in wages and prices has been so weak for so long, that I wouldn’t be acting until it was certain wage and price inflation was taking off.

Even so, since its own forecasts say that point will come towards the end of the next term of government, Morrison and Frydenberg should be readying to give us a clear idea of the steps they’ll take to cut government spending or increase taxes when it becomes necessary.

And, in an ideal world, they would. But, thanks to the bad behaviour of both sides of politics, our world is far from ideal. Former Labor leader Bill Shorten is only the latest to be reminded of the awful, anti-democratic truth that parties which telegraph their punches expose themselves to dishonest scare campaigns.

But that’s just the most obvious reason Morrison and Frydenberg will avoid any discussion of the nasty moves that will be necessary to make the “stance” of fiscal policy less expansionary and, when needed, mildly restrictive, thus slowing the government’s accumulation of debt in the process.

The less obvious reason is that no pollie wants to talk about the policy instrument that’s played a leading part in all previous successful attempts at “fiscal consolidation” and will be needed this time.

It’s what Malcolm Fraser dubbed “the secret tax of inflation”, but the punters call “bracket creep” and economists call “fiscal drag”.

Because our income-tax scales tax income in slices, at progressively higher rates – ranging from zero to 45c in the dollar – but the brackets for the slices are fixed in dollar terms, any and every increase in wages (or other income) increases the proportion of income that’s taxed at the individual’s highest “marginal” tax rate, thus increasing the average rate of tax paid on the whole of their income.

A person’s average tax rate will rise faster if the increase in their income takes them up into a higher-taxed bracket but, because what really matters in increasing their overall average tax rate is the higher proportion of their total income taxed at their highest marginal tax rate, it’s not true that people who aren’t pushed into a higher tax bracket don’t suffer from what we misleadingly label “bracket creep”.

I give you this technical explanation to make two points highly relevant to the prospects of getting the budget deficit down. Both concern the third stage of the government’s tax cuts, already legislated to take effect from July 2024, at a cost of $17 billion a year.

Although this tax cut is, in the words of former Treasury econocrat John Hawkins and others, “extraordinarily highly skewed towards high income earners”, Frydenberg justifies it with the claim that, because it would put everyone earning between $45,000 and $200,000 a year on the same 30 per cent marginal tax rate, it would end bracket creep for 90 per cent of taxpayers.

First, this claim is simply untrue. For Frydenberg to keep repeating it shows he either doesn’t understand how the misnamed bracket creep works, or he’s happy to mislead all those voters who don’t.

What’s true is that the stage three tax cut would greatly diminish the extent to which a given percentage rise in wages leads to a greater percentage increase in income-tax collections, thereby sabotaging the progressive tax system’s effectiveness as the budget’s main “automatic stabiliser”. Its ability to act as a “drag” on private-sector demand when it’s in danger of growing too strongly.

In an ideal world, income-tax brackets would be indexed to consumer prices annually, thus requiring all tax increases to be announced and legislated. But in the real world of cowardly and deceptive politicians – and self-deluding voters – the stage three tax cut is bad policy on three counts.

One, it’s unfair to all taxpayers except the relative handful earning more than $180,000 a year (like me). Two, the biggest tax savings go to the people most likely to save rather than spend them. Three, by knackering the single most important device used to achieve fiscal consolidation, it’d be an act of macro management vandalism.

Think of it: by repealing stage three you improve the budget balance by $17 billion in 1024-25 and all subsequent years. Better than that, you leave intact the only device that works automatically to improve the budget balance year in and year out until you decide to override it.

Without the pollies’ little helper, fiscal consolidation depends on a government that’s still smarting from its voter-repudiated attempt in the 2014 budget, having another go at making big cuts in government spending, and a government that seeks to differentiate itself as the party of low taxes now deciding to put them up.

Good luck with that.

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Only bipartisanship will let us relieve the squaller of aged care

Despite all the appalling stories of the neglect and even abuse of old people we’ve heard during the two years of the royal commission into aged care, it’s hard to be confident this will be the last time we’ll need an inquiry into what’s going wrong and why.

Looking at the eight volumes of the commission’s report – even its executive summary runs to 115 pages – it’s easy to conclude the problem must be hugely complicated. And if you get into the gruesome detail, it is.

But if you look from the top down, it’s deceptively easy. All the specific problems stem from a single cause: we’ve gone for decades – under federal governments of both colours – trying to do aged care on the cheap, and it’s been a disaster.

The basic solution is obvious: if we want decent care of our oldies we must be prepared to pay more for it – a lot more. The problem is, neither side of politics has been game to ask us to do so.

That’s partly because the first side to do so fears it would be attacked by the other: “Don’t vote for them, they want to put up your taxes!”

But also because neither side believes the public is prepared to put its money where its mouth is. We’re happy to be scandalised by the terrible treatment of many people in aged care, and blame it on our terrible politicians, but don’t ask us to kick the tin. We’re paying too much tax already.

I believe that a government with the courage to make the case for a specific tax increase to cover the cost of better aged care could be successful, but in this age of leaders who find it easier to follow than to lead, it’s not terribly likely.

The commission makes no bones about its conclusion that the aged care system has been starved of funds. It finds that the Aged Care Act, introduced in 1997 by the Howard government, was motivated by a desire to limit its cost to the budget.

“At times in this inquiry, it has felt like the government’s main consideration was what was the minimum commitment it could get away with, rather than what should be done to sustain the aged care system so that it is enabled to deliver high quality and safe care,” the report says.

In 1987, the Hawke government introduced an “efficiency dividend” under which the running costs of government departments and agencies are cut automatically each year by a per cent or two. The practice persists to this day. The report estimates that, by now, this has cut more than $9.8 billion from aged care’s annual budget.

Another way the government has limited costs is by rationing access to home care packages – which help people avoid going into residential care (and so, in the end, help the government save money). There’s a long waiting list for home care, with those in greater need of help waiting longer than those needing less.

Every so often the government announces with great fanfare its decision to cut the waiting list by X thousand places. But since the demand for places is growing – and even though many people die before their name comes up – the list never seems to get lower than about 100,000 at any time.

“The current aged care system and its weak and ineffective regulatory arrangements did not arise by accident,” the report says. “The move to ritualistic regulation was a natural consequence of the government’s desire to restrain expenditure in aged care.

“In essence, having not provided enough funding for good quality care, the regulatory arrangements could only pay lip service to the requirement that the care that was provided be of high quality.”

Yet another way governments have sought to limit the cost of aged care is to contract out responsibility to charities – including Anglicare and United Care – and then for-profit providers.

Commissioner Lynelle Briggs finds that government-run aged care providers “perform better on average than both not-for-profit and, in particular, for-profit age care providers”.

This is hardly surprising. All of them are underfunded, but private operators have to cut costs harder to make room for their profits.

The report doesn’t say how much extra we need to pay to have decent aged care, but the Grattan Institute suggests about $7 billion a year would do it. That would be on top of the $21 billion the government already spends, plus user fees of $5 billion a year.

Briggs says the government should introduce an “aged care improvement levy” of 1 per cent of personal taxable income, from July next year.

Would Morrison do such a thing? Well, “you know our government’s disposition when it comes to increased levies and taxes. It’s not something we lean to,” he says.

Oh. Well-informed sources, however, tell us he’d be prepared to introduce the levy if the opposition supported it. If Labor chooses to play politics, he’ll let the aged care misery continue.

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Why much of what we're told about taxes is off beam

There are lots of ways to describe the subject matter of economics, but the ponciest way is to say it’s about “the study of incentives”. It’s true, but a less grandiose way to put it is that conventional economists are obsessed by prices and not much else.

If you’ve heard someone being accused of knowing “the price of everything, but the value of nothing”, that phrase could have been purpose-built for economists. Read on and you’ll see why economists so often make bad predictions and give bum advice.

The early weeks of most courses in economics are devoted to explaining the economists’ version of how markets work. How the demand for a particular good or service interacts with the supply of the particular item to determine its price.

Over time, movements in the price act as signals to both the buyers of the product and its sellers. A rise in the price tells buyers they should use the now more-expensive product less wastefully, and maybe start looking for some alternative product that’s almost as good but doesn’t cost as much. On the other hand, a fall in the price tells buyers to bog in.

To the sellers, however, the price signals sent by a price change are reversed. A price rise says: this product's now more profitable, produce more; a fall in the price signals that supply is now less profitable, so produce less.

You can see how changes in the price act as an incentive for buyers and sellers to change their behaviour.

You see too how, following some disturbance, this “price mechanism” acts to return the market for the product to “equilibrium” – balance between the supply of it and the demand for it. It sets off what real scientists call a “negative feedback loop”: when prices rise, it acts to bring them back down by reducing demand and increasing supply; when prices fall, it brings them back up by reducing supply and increasing demand.

Note that all this is about changes in relative prices – the price of one product relative to the prices of others. It ignores inflation, which is a rise in the level of prices generally.

The way economists think, taxes are just another price. And there’s no topic where people worry more about the effect of incentives than taxes – particularly the effect of income tax on the incentive to work.

Consider this experiment, conducted in 2018 by two (married) economists from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Esther Duflo and Abhijit Banerjee, with Stefanie Stantcheva of Harvard. Duflo and Banerjee were awarded the Nobel prize in economics in 2019.

The three surveyed 10,000 people from all over America, asking half of them questions about how people would react to several financial incentives. Half of these respondents said they expected at least some people to stop working in response to a rise in the tax rate, and 60 per cent expected people to work less.

Almost half of the 5000 respondents expected the introduction of a universal basic income of $US13,000 ($17,000) a year, with no strings attached, to lead people to stop working. And 60 per cent thought a Medicaid program (providing healthcare for people on low incomes) with no work requirement would discourage people from working.

But here’s the trick: the economists asked people in the other half of their 10,000 sample the same questions, but how they themselves would react, not how they thought other people would. Their responses were significantly different, with 72 per cent of them declaring that an increase in taxes would “not at all” lead them to stop working.

As Duflo and Banerjee summed it up in their book, Good Economics for Hard Times, and in an excerpt in the New York Times, “Everyone else responds to incentives, but I don’t”.

It’s possible those people could be deluding themselves – after all, most people believe they’re not influenced by advertising, when it’s clear advertising works – but in this case the hard evidence shows financial incentives aren’t nearly as influential as is widely assumed.

The first place to see this is among the rich. “No one seriously believes that salary caps lead top athletes to work less hard in the United States than they do in Europe, where there is no cap. Research shows that when top tax rates go up, tax evasion increases . . . but the rich don’t work less,” they say.

And we see it among the poor. “Notwithstanding all the talk about ‘welfare queens,’ [and the use our Morrison government has made of similar talk to justify keeping the JobSeeker dole payment low] 40 years of evidence shows that the poor do not stop working when welfare becomes more generous,” they say.

“When members of the Cherokee tribe started getting dividends from the casino on their land, which made them 50 per cent richer on average, there was no evidence that they worked less.”

It’s true that in many circumstances – but not something as deeply consequential as decisions about how much work to do – differences in prices will influence the choices people make. In a supermarket, for instance, many shoppers will reach for the cheaper jar of peanut butter.

But when we’re making decisions about bigger and more consequential issues – such as whether to work and how much of it to do – monetary incentives such as the rate of tax on it, go into the mix with a multitude of other, non-monetary incentives.

Such as? “Something we know in our guts: status, dignity, social connections. Chief executives and top athletes are driven by the desire to win and be the best. The poor will walk away from social benefits if they come with being treated like a criminal. And among the middle class, the fear of losing their sense of who they are,” Duflo and Banerjee conclude.

Why do economists so often make bad predictions and give bum advice? Because they keep forgetting that a model of economic behaviour that focuses so heavily on prices leaves out many other powerful incentives.

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This one-year, fold-away budget won't do the trick

From the way the budget blows out debt and deficit, it may seem that Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg have stopped caring how much they rack up, but it ain’t so. This budget is just a one-year plan, which not only brings the handouts to an early stop, but then starts reeling much of the money back in.

This budget is like a fold-up bike you can put back in the boot after you’ve finished with it. Technically, its design is clever. But I fear it’s too clever by half.

If it turns out Morrison has turned off the budgetary stimulus too soon – as many business economists fear – he won’t have got the economy growing strongly enough and unemployment falling far enough.

His decision to turn the stimulus off so early – and to choose his budget measures based more on political correctness than job-creating effectiveness – may prove a great error of political (as well as economic) judgment as the election approaches in late next year or early 2022.

But let’s unfold Frydenberg’s one-year, fold-away budget. First, the two initial, big-ticket stimulus measures – the JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme and the temporary JobSeeker unemployment benefit supplement – have already been scaled back and their termination dates set.

The $17-billion dole supplement will end in December (with almost every dollar saved coming out of retailers’ cash registers) and JobKeeper will end in March, after a total cost of $101 billion.

First among the budget’s new measures is the immediate write-off for tax purposes of businesses’ capital equipment purchases. It will apply to new assets from now until June 2022, at a cost to revenue of $31 billion over the three years to June 2023.

But because this measure simply allows firms to deduct the cost of new equipment earlier than would otherwise apply, by the fourth year, 2023-24, firms are expected to be paying in excess of $4 billion more tax than they otherwise would have in that year.

Buried deep in the budget’s fine print you discover that what costs the revenue $31 billion in the first three years, ends up costing only a net $3 billion “over the medium term”.

Similarly, while the measure allowing companies (but not unincorporated firms) to carry back losses incurred in the three financial years to June 2022 for tax purposes will cost the revenue more than $5 billion in its first two years, by 2023-24 it will begin reeling the money back in. The net cost over the medium term is expected to be less than $4 billion.

Get it? Though the huge early cost of these measures, combined with the miniscule number of new jobs they are expected to create, makes them look like a giant handout to the government’s business supporters, in truth all they involve is a temporary improvement in businesses’ cash flows, as opposed to their profits.

Next, note that, though the JobMaker wage subsidy “hiring credit” has a cost of $4 billion over three years (with almost three-quarters of that hitting the budget next financial year), the scheme will be open only until October 7, 2021. The further cost to the budget after June 2022 will be minimal.

Finally, remember that the tax cut comes in two bits: the continuing tax cuts for people earning more than $90,000 a year, plus the temporary cost of the one-year extension of the misleadingly named “low and middle income tax offset”, aimed mainly at above-median tax-filers on $48,000 to $90,000.

Because the cash benefit of the temporary tax offset is delivered retrospectively, the two-year draw-forward of stage two (as opposed to its continuing cost from July 2022 on) will cost the budget about $7 billion this financial year and about $17 billion next year but – get this – add to revenue by almost $6 billion in 2022-23.

By then, much of this year’s budget will have been folded away.

Now you see why, after blowing out to $85 billion last financial year and an expected $213 billion this year, the budget deficit is expected almost to halve to $112 billion next year, and fall to $88 billion in 2022-23. (After that, the rate of improvement tapers off, with the deficit projected to take seven years to fall from 3 per cent of gross domestic product to 1.6 per cent.)

Question is, will the economy be able to keep up with this contraction in the budget? At present, the $101-billion JobKeeper is supporting 3.5 million workers – a quarter of all workers. It will end in March, to be replaced by the $4-billion JobMaker scheme for young workers. Doesn’t seem enough.

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Budget is big on political correctness but weak on job creation

The more I study the budget, the less impressed I am. It spends a mint of money – which it should - but Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg have chosen its measures based on how well they fit the government’s "core values", not on whether they’re likely to deliver "bang for buck" – maximum jobs per dollar forgone.

The funny thing is, if you read the budget papers carefully, they admit that its measures were run through the filter of Liberal Party political correctness, while also providing enough information to allow us to calculate that its most expensive measures are expected to create surprisingly few jobs.

The budget papers say the government’s fiscal (budgetary) strategy "is consistent with the government’s core values of lower taxes and containing the size of government, guaranteeing the provision of essential services, and ensuring budget and balance sheet discipline".

Over the years, macro economists have given much thought to how well particular types of budget measures stimulate the economy and create jobs. They identify three broad categories of measures.

First, give tax breaks and incentives to businesses, in the hope that this will induce them to expand their operations, spending more on capital equipment and new employees.

Second, give tax cuts (or maybe one-off cash grants) to individual taxpayers or welfare recipients, in the hope that they will spend most of the money and thereby generate economic activity and jobs.

Those two categories involve the government making "transfer payments" from itself to households or firms. The third category is the government spending money directly by paying someone to build a house or an expressway or to work for the government and perform some service.

As a rule, economists expect direct spending to yield a greater stimulus (and thus have a higher "multiplier" effect) than transfer payments. That’s because all the government’s spending adds to demand for goods and services in the "first round", whereas some of the money you transfer to a firm or individual may be saved rather than spent, even in the first round.

Economists consider saving a "leakage" from the various rounds of the "circular flow of income" round and round the economy. Other leakages occur if the money is spent on imports rather than locally made goods and services.

Still on direct spending, if your primary goal is not so much to add to the production of goods and services (real gross domestic product) as to increase employment, you’d be better off directing your government spending to a labour-intensive purpose (employing an extra uni tutor or aged-care nurse, for instance), rather than a capital-intensive purpose, such as a new expressway.

Now let’s look at how the budget’s main measures fit these three categories. Its temporary measure to allow firms an immediate write-off of the cost of new equipment (costing the revenue $26.7 billion over four years), its temporary measure allowing firms to carry back current losses for tax purposes ($4.9 billion), its research and development tax incentive ($2 billion) and its temporary JobMaker "hiring credit" - wage subsidy – ($4 billion) add up to total revenue forgone under the first category of tax breaks to businesses of almost $38 billion.

This is far bigger than the money going to individual taxpayers and welfare recipients in the second category: personal tax cuts ($17.8 billion over four years) and "economic support payments" to pensioners ($2.5 billion), a total of just over $20 billion.

Under the third category, direct government spending on goods and services, the main measures are various infrastructure programs – mostly via grants to state governments - worth more than $10 billion over four years.

So you see how much the budget’s fiscal stimulus measures have been affected by the government’s "core values". No less than $38 billion goes as tax breaks to business, three-quarters of the $20 billion in transfers to individuals comes as tax cuts, leaving about $10 billion in direct spending going to the least labour-intensive purpose – transport infrastructure.

Now, according to the budget papers – or according to the budget "glossies" fudged up by ministerial staffers with lots of colour photos of good-looking punters – the government and its minions have estimated the number of jobs the top programs are expected to create.

The immediate asset write-off and loss carry-back for businesses is expected to create about 50,000 jobs. Is that a lot? Well, remembering we have a labour force of 13.5 million, it doesn’t seem much. And dividing the 50,000 into the budgetary cost of $31.6 billion gives a cost of $632,000 per job.

That’s infinitely more than any of those extra workers are likely to be paid, of course, and absolutely pathetic bang per buck. Giving money to business in the hope it will do wonders for "jobs and growth" is a classic example of "trickle-down economics". Clearly, a lot of the money doesn’t.

But, when you think about it, it’s not so surprising that so much money produces so few extra jobs. Why not? Because almost all the capital equipment Australian firms buy is imported. And because firms get the concession even if they don’t buy any more equipment than they would have done.

Next, the budget documents imply that the personal tax cuts worth $17.8 billion will create a further 50,000 jobs. That works out at $356,000 per job – still terrible bang per buck. Why so high? Too much of the tax cut is likely to be saved.

Finally, the budget documents tell us the $4 billion cost of the JobMaker hiring credit will yield "around 450,000 positions for young Australians". That’s a much better – but still high - $8900 per "position" – which I take to mean that a lot of the jobs won’t be lasting or full time.

So, what measures would have yielded better job-creation value? The ones rejected as politically incorrect: big spending on social housing, a permanent increase in the JobSeeker unemployment benefit – or even just employing more childcare workers.

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Innovative: a two-class tax cut with disappearing cake

 Surely the most unfair criticism of Josh Frydenberg’s budget comes from the economist who said it was uninspiring. It’s the most innovative, creative document I can remember. With uncharacteristic modesty, he’s presented the tax cut that forms its centrepiece as just another cut, whereas in truth it’s like no other we’ve seen. Frydenberg will be remembered as the inventor of the two-class tax cut.

Those travelling first class get a big tax cut that’s permanent and will show up in their pay packet (or, these days, bank account) in a few weeks. Those in second class get a small tax cut that’s temporary, and they won’t see it until the second half of next year – which is when it will then be whipped away, leaving them paying more tax, not less.

This strange result arises because the second stage of last year’s three-stage tax plan was designed not to be of benefit to the great majority of taxpayers, those earning less than $90,000 a year. Also because of the great invention of Frydenberg’s predecessor as treasurer, Scott Morrison: the appetisingly named “low and middle income tax offset” – known to tax aficionados as the LaMIngTOn.

In its final form, announced in last year’s pre-election budget, the lamington provides an annual tax reduction of up to a princely $255 to taxpayers earning up to $37,000. Those earning between $37,000 and $48,000 have the size of their lamington phased up to $1080, with all those earning between $48,000 and $90,000 getting the full $1080 cake. Then it phases down to no cake at all by the time incomes reach $126,000.

That $1080 is equivalent to a tax cut of a bit less than $21 a week. But, being a “tax offset” rather than a regular tax cut, you don’t get your hands on it until you’ve submitted your tax return after the end of the financial year, and it’s included in your annual tax refund.

On the face of it, the second stage of the tax plan (which wasn’t intended to start until July 2022, but the budget brings forward to July this year) gives a tiny tax cut to those earning between $37,000 and $45,000 and a bigger cut that starts at incomes of $90,000 and keeps growing until income reaches $120,000 – by which time it’s worth $2430 a year, or about $47 a week.

Under the bonnet, however, stage two does something an old accountant such as me regards as quite clever. It whisks away the lamington and substitutes other things, without those who got it under stage one being any worse off.

Trouble is, while almost no one earning less than $90,000 would be worse off, nor would they be any better off. Taken by itself, stage two would give noticeable tax cuts only to those earning more than $90,000 (which is getting on for double the median taxpayer’s income).

Sound fair to you? It would be politically unsaleable. Nor would it fit with the government’s claim to have brought the tax cut forward purely to do wonders for “jobs and growth”.

So someone had a bright idea. While quietly whisking away the old lamington, introduce a new, identical lamington – but only for the present financial year. Problem solved. Every player gets a prize.

The 4.6 million taxpayers earning between $48,000 and $90,000 get a tax cut of $1080 or a little more, while the 1.5 million earning between $90,000 and $120,000 get up to $2430. Everyone earning more than $120,000 gets the flat $2430 (thanks, Josh).

All this was carefully spelt out in one of the sheaves of press releases Frydenberg issued on budget day. But the things he said in his televised budget speech didn’t quite fit his own facts.

“As a proportion of tax payable in 2017-18, the greatest benefits will flow to those on lower incomes – with those earning $40,000 paying 21 per cent less tax, and those on $80,000 paying around 11 per cent less tax this year,” he said.

“Under our changes, more than 7 million Australians receive tax relief of $2000 or more this year.”

Sorry. By comparing this financial year’s tax cuts not with last year’s, but with the tax we paid three years ago, in 2017-18, Frydenberg has managed to add last year’s tax cut to this year’s. For people receiving the lamington, that doubles the tax cut they’re supposedly receiving “this year”.

Why has Frydenberg chosen to describe his tax cut in such a misleading way? Because it helps disguise the truth that high-income earners are getting much bigger dollar savings than low- and middle-income earners.

Similarly, comparing tax cuts according to the percentage reduction in a person’s total tax bill is nothing more than playing with arithmetic – which, to be fair, every government does. Remember, if your income was so low you paid only $10 tax on it, I could change the tax system in a way that dropped you from the tax net and claim you’d had a 100 per cent tax reduction – which made you by far the biggest winner. Yeah, sure.

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Budget’s easy future: no more surpluses, lots more tax cuts

Last week’s budget quietly brought about a historic shift in the fiscal policy “framework”: we moved from the Treasury puritanical view of what constitutes responsible budgeting, to the more licentious Republican view.

Until now, the Liberals have been committed to ending “debt and deficit”, but now they’ve decided they can live with both. The coronacession has left them with little choice, but there’s more to it.

America’s Republicans adhere to two fiscal principles: first, budget deficits are terrible things - but only because those appalling, big-spending Democrats are in charge. Second, once the Republicans are back in power, deficits are of less concern and no barrier to us granting our supporters big tax cuts.

Treasuries – including state treasuries – have a lot of firmly held views about what constitutes good public policy, but what they care about most – their sacred duty – is to keep the budget in balance.

Every time a recession pushes the budget into deficit, they fight untiringly until the economy’s recovery and much “fiscal consolidation” has returned the budget to balance. Their rationale for this obsession is that if they don’t care about balancing the budget, who will? The vote-buying politicians?

Early in the term of the Howard government, when the budget had still not fully recovered from the recession of the early 1990s, Treasury persuaded the Libs to enshrine this objective as their “medium-term fiscal strategy” - to “maintain budget balance, on average, over the course of the economic cycle”.

Successive Labor and Liberal governments have adopted that strategy with minor alteration.

After the Rudd government’s use of fiscal stimulus to avoid the Great Recession in 2009, it added a “deficit exit strategy” which committed it to “banking” any recovery in tax receipts and avoiding any policy changes (that is, tax cuts), as well as limiting real growth in government spending to an average of 2 per cent a year (a commitment Labor only pretended to keep).

In Tony Abbott’s first budget, the Libs’ “budget repair strategy” committed them to more than offset new spending measures by reductions in spending elsewhere, and to bank any improvement in the budget bottom line until a surplus of at least 1 per cent of gross domestic product had been achieved.

In Malcolm Turnbull’s first budget in 2016, however, he broke the commitment by deciding to cut the rate of company tax while the budget was still well short of surplus.

With that commitment out the window, it was easy in last year’s pre-election budget for Scott Morrison to promise a three-stage tax cut, spread from July 2018 to July 2024 and costing $300 billion over 10 years, purely on the strength of projections showing that tax collections would otherwise exceed the government’s ceiling of 23.9 per cent of GDP and keep soaring to 25.6 per cent by 2029-30. Immediately after its miraculous re-election, it rushed the plan into law.

It was always folly for any government committed to eliminating its debt to enact tax cuts five years into an uncertain future. The projections were overly optimistic at the time, but then the coronacession blew them away.

Tax collections are now expected to be only 21.8 per cent of GDP this financial year, and are projected only to have recovered to 22.9 per cent by 2030-31 – still way below the ceiling formerly said to justify a round of tax cuts.

Any government still committed to getting the budget back to surplus as soon as reasonably possible would have cancelled the legislated tax cuts – which now would be funded by borrowing – when further targeted-and-temporary government spending would be far more effective in creating jobs. Rate-scale tax cuts (as opposed to the one-year extension of the middle-income tax offset) are a continuing drag on the budget balance.

But no, rather than cut his coat according to his cloth, Scott Morrison has doubled down, bringing the second-stage tax cuts forward two years under the pretence it will do wonders for “jobs and growth”. The budget is projected still to be in a deficit of 1.6 per cent of GDP in 10 years’ time.

To make it all legit, however, the commitment to achieve budget surpluses on average has been junked and replaced with a new medium-term fiscal strategy merely to “focus on growing the economy in order to stabilise and reduce debt”, which will thereby “provide flexibility to respond to changing economic conditions”.

As the budget papers explain, and Josh Frydenberg has said, “with historically low interest rates, it is not necessary to run budget surpluses to stabilise and reduce debt as a share of GDP – provided the economy is growing steadily”.

Which is true. And the new, weaker medium-term strategy also provides the flexibility for governments to act like the Republicans and give a tax cut in response to changing political conditions. Happy days.

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Smaller Government has failed, but let's cut taxes anyway

Think about this: despite a rocketing budget deficit, Scott Morrison is planning to press on with, and even bring forward, highly expensive tax cuts for high income-earners at just the time we’re realising that the 40-year pursuit of Smaller Government has been a disastrous failure.

Wake-up No. 1: the tragic consequences of the decision to outsource hotel quarantine in Victoria have confirmed what academic economists have long told us, and many of us have experienced. Contracting out the provision of public services to private operators cuts costs at the expense of quality.

Wake-up No. 2: efforts to keep the lid on the growing cost of aged care have given us appalling treatment of the old plus high profits to for-profit providers and some not-for-profits seeking to cross-subsidise other activities.

A new report by Dr Stephen Duckett and Professor Hal Swerissen, of the Grattan Institute, summarises the aged care system’s “litany of failures”, as revealed by the royal commission, as “unpalatable food, poor care, neglect, abuse and, most recently, the tragedies of the pandemic”.

There was a time when aged care was provided by governments, particularly in Victoria and Western Australia. But as the population has aged, successive federal governments have sought to limit the role of government by having aged care provided first by religious and charitable organisations and then by for-profit businesses.

The report’s authors note how little we spend on aged care. Countries with well-functioning aged care – such as the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden and Japan – spend between 3 and 5 per cent of gross domestic product, whereas we spend 1.2 per cent.

“Rather than ensuring an appropriately regulated market, the government’s primary focus has been to constrain costs,” they say. When old people are assessed for at-home care or for residential care, the emphasis is less on their needs than on their eligibility for less-costly or more-costly support.

Partly because of the failure to set out clear standards for the quality of the care the community should be providing to our elderly – presumably, because keeping it vague helps limit costs – the system has become “provider-centric”.

Over the past two decades, the provision of aged care has increasingly been regarded by government as a market. “Residential facilities got bigger, and for-profit providers flooded into the system. Regulation did not keep pace with the changed market conditions,” the authors say.

But, though you’d better believe the profit motive of for-profit providers is super real, anyone who’s done even high-school economics could tell that the aged-care “market” offers nothing like the countervailing forces that textbooks describe.

The royal commission’s interim report found “it is a myth that aged care is an effective consumer-driven market”. A myth instigated and perpetuated by the Smaller Government brigade.

Duckett and Swerissen say that, “in practice, providers have much more information, control and influence than consumers. In residential care, a veil of secrecy makes it very difficult for consumers to make judgments about key quality variables such as staffing levels.”

Rather than turning aged care into a well-functioning market, “the so-called reforms resulted in for-profit providers increasingly dominating the system. The number of for-profit providers has nearly tripled in the past four years, from 13 per cent in 2016 to 36 per cent in 2019".

Even the Land of the Free has instituted a five-star system for ranking residential institutions to better inform the aged and their families. We haven’t bothered. But research for the royal commission shows that a majority of providers have staffing levels below three stars. And, the authors add, it doesn’t necessarily follow that the more you pay, the higher the quality.

Residential aged care can be so offputting that it’s gone from being a lifestyle choice to a last resort. So great is the public’s aversion to aged care that the government has had to offer a range of at-home assistance packages.

But, consistent with the half-arsed pursuit of Smaller Government, the government has allowed a waiting list of about 100,000 people to build up. And, since the packages are delivered by private providers, amazing proportions of the cost can be eaten up by “administrative costs”.

Duckett and Swerissen say that, while (much) more money is needed, this won’t be enough to fix the problem without not only better regulation but fundamental change in principles, governance and incentives. Access to extra funding should be tightly scrutinised so the money goes to upgrade staffing and not to greater profits for wealthy owners of provider businesses.

Back to tomorrow’s budget. The strongest motivation behind the Quixotic quest for Smaller Government is the desire of the better-off to pay lower taxes. Like Don Quixote, it has failed. Fixing it will cost billions. But blow that, let’s cut taxes regardless.

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Economy to blame for part of the expected budget blowout

When you ask people who work in the House with the Flag on Top why the budget deficit has gone up or gone down, most will tell you it’s gone up because the government decided to spend more money, or it’s gone down because the government decided to spend less money.

When you live in Canberra, the budget looms large and the economy is something far distant in Melbourne or Sydney or somewhere. The budget is the steering wheel by which those in the national capital control the economy of you and me, they think.

When you consider how close they live to all the economists in Treasury and all the distinguished economists at the Australian National University, it's surprising how little so many Canberrans understand about the economy.

The truth is, the nation’s economy – almost all of which exists outside the ACT – is far bigger and more powerful than the budget of the federal government (even after you throw in the budgets of the eight states and territories).

So, though it’s true that changes in the federal budget can have a big influence on what happens in the economy, it’s just as true that what happens in the economy can have a big influence on what happens to the budget.

To be clear, there’s a two-way relationship between the big thing that is the economy and the much smaller thing that is the budget. What’s done to the budget affects the economy, but what you and I - and the businesses we mainly work for - do to the economy has a big effect on the budget.

On how much tax we end up having to pay, and on the benefits – in kind as well as cash – the government has to pay us. How many kids we have and send to school. Whether they decide to go on to university or TAFE. How old we get and need the age pension and go to doctors and hospitals more often. Whether we lose our jobs and need to be supported by the dole. And all the rest.

With the virus and the consequent recession changing everything, this week we were supposed to get an emergency update on the state of the economy and the budget from Treasurer Josh Frydenberg. But he’s put it off until late next month.

Not to worry. On Friday the independent Parliamentary Budget Office stepped into the breach and produced “medium-term fiscal projections” of the effect of the coronavirus and the policy response to it.

Starting with the forecasts in the mid-year update published in December as its base, it used the Reserve Bank’s recently published forecasts for the economy (in lieu of Treasury’s) to estimate the expected change in the federal budget’s receipts, payments and underlying cash balance brought about by the crisis.

Its headline finding was that the crisis may cause the federal government’s net public debt to be between $500 billion and $620 billion higher than it would otherwise have been by 2029-30. That would be equivalent to between 11 and 18 per cent of gross domestic product.

But no one knows what the future holds, and projections 10 years into the future are so speculative as to be useless. They’re actually a bad thing because they give the uninitiated (including the politicians) a false sense of certainty.

The report’s way of putting this is to say its results are “indicative only” – which is an econocrats’ way of saying that, at best, they give you a rough idea of what might happen. So let’s just focus on the guesstimates for this (almost over) financial year and the next two, ending with 2021-22.

They show the budget deficit for this financial year is now expected to be $67 billion worse than formerly expected. The budget balance for the coming financial year may be $191 billion worse and for 2021-22 may be $56 billion worse. That’s a total deterioration of $314 billion.

Now, the explicit policy decisions of the government in response to the virus are expected to account for only $187 billion of that total. This accounts for almost all the expected increase in government payments, leaving the expected fall of $126 billion in tax collections and other receipts making up the remainder.

Get it? About 40 per cent of the overall deterioration came from the recession, caused by the fall in tax collections – individuals earning less income and paying less income tax; companies earning lower profits and paying less company tax; consumers buying less and paying less goods and services tax – leaving the government’s own actions accounting only for the remaining 60 per cent.

As economists put it, about 60 per cent of the expected deterioration in the budget balance over three years is “structural”, whereas 40 per cent is “cyclical” – meaning it will fix itself as the economy recovers.

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Right now, we need all the government spending we can get

Lying awake in bed last night thinking about our predicament, a frightening insight came to me: the only way out of a recession is to spend your way out. It sounds wrong-headed, but it’s not. It’s just, as economists say, “counter-intuitive”.

Who must do all this spending? In the first instance, the government. And let me tell you, if Scott Morrison lacks the courage to spend as much as is needed – as it seems he may – he’s likely to be kicked out at the next election because we’ll still be languishing in a recession that’s deeper and longer than it needed to be.

The reason spending your way out of trouble strikes us as foolhardy is that we’re used to thinking as individuals. If I and my family tried that solution, we’d soon get ourselves into even deeper trouble. True. But what’s true for the individual isn’t necessarily true for all of us acting together via the government – which we elected to do things on our behalf and to our benefit.

It shouldn’t really surprise us that governments can get away with doing things you and I can’t. That’s partly because the federal government represents 25 million individuals. It’s also because national governments have powers you and I don’t possess: the power to cover the money they spend by imposing taxes on us, and even the power simply to print the money they spend.

This, of course, is what worries Morrison and his ministers about spending big. When governments spend too much they go into deficit and debt, and then they have to raises taxes to cover the deficit and eventually pay off the debt.

But that’s the wrong way to think about it. The right way is the way Morrison has already said we’ll cope with the debt: we’ll grow our way out of it. The trick, however, is that you don’t get the economy back to growing unless you spend enough to get it growing.

Let’s get back to basics. Economic activity is about getting and spending – producing and consuming. We earn incomes by producing goods or services (or, more likely, by helping our employer produce goods or services), then spend most of that income on the goods and services we need to live our lives.

Recessions occur when, for some reason, we stop spending enough to buy all the goods and services being produced. (In the present case, the reason is that, in order to stop the virus spreading, the government ordered non-essential businesses to close their doors, and you and me to stay in our homes and not go out buying things.)

When people stop spending enough to buy all that businesses are producing, those businesses cut back their production. This often involves sacking workers or putting them on short hours. Obviously, people who lose their jobs cut their spending.

Even people who’ve kept their jobs tighten their belts for fear they’ll be next. Optimism evaporates as everyone gets fearful about the future. Rather than spending, people save as much as they can.

The private sector – businesses and households – contracts. To be crude, it starts disappearing up its own fundament. Until someone breaks this vicious circle, the private sector keeps getting smaller and unemployment keeps rising.

Obviously, what’s needed to reverse the cycle is a huge burst of spending. But there’s only one source that spending can come from: the government. The smaller public sector has to rescue the much bigger private sector and get it going again.

This creates a dilemma for people who’ve convinced themselves that government spending is, at best, a necessary evil to be kept to an absolute minimum because, just as dancing leads to sex, government spending leads to me paying higher taxes.

Turns out that government spending does much good and we shouldn’t be so stingy and resentful about the taxes we pay. (If some government spending is wasteful then eliminating waste is what we should be focusing on.)

In any case, provided you spend enough to get the economy growing again, that growth means rising incomes from which to pay tax. As well, once the economy is growing faster than the debt is, it declines relative to the size of the economy; the problem shrinks. We ended World War II with debt hugely higher than today. How did we get it down? That’s how.

You and I are in a hurry to pay down our debt partly because we’re mortal. We need to get it paid before we retire, let alone before we die. Governments, however, need be in no such hurry because they go on forever.

The other reason you and I are in a hurry to repay, of course, is the interest we must keep paying until we do. The higher the rate of interest, the more hurry we should be in. In evidence to a Senate committee last week, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy advised that the interest rate the government is paying on the 10-year bonds it’s issuing is 1 per cent – less than inflation. Still worried?

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Obsession with jobless is Morrison's best chance of survival

As Scott Morrison contemplates returning to politics as usual, there’s something he should keep front-of-mind: governments that preside over severe recessions usually get tossed out.

Voters’ gratitude for being saved from the virus will fade, leaving them staring at that triumph’s horrendous price tag – its opportunity cost: the huge number of people still waiting to get a job back as we approach the federal election in early 2023.

It follows that Morrison’s best chance of pulling off two election miracles in succession rests in doing all in his power to get the rate of unemployment back down to the 5 per cent it was at before the virus hit.

To Morrison, returning to politics as usual means returning to what he calls “ideology” and I call governing not for all Australians but for the Liberal tribe – team Lifters – the “base” and its big business donors.

What he means by ideology is fighting for less government, lower taxes and the protection of tax breaks. Which, in turn, means shifting the balance in favour of the Lifters and against the rival Leaners tribe, aka Labor.

Liberal grandee John Howard sanctioned Morrison’s huge increase in government spending by telling him that, in a crisis, there’s no ideology. True. Any Liberal government would have done the same, as the big spending of Britain’s Conservatives and America’s Republicans suggests.

But now the lockdown is being unlocked, Morrison's being pressed by his base and big business supporters to get back to smaller government and lower taxes. He should be cutting company tax and revisiting industrial relations reform. If that ends the bipartisan co-operation from Labor and the unions, so be it.

But I’d think twice if I were Morrison. People close to him say that, at heart, he’s a pragmatist rather than an ideologue. If so, he should follow his instincts, which have served him well so far.

The case for not only delaying winding back the existing spending programs, but also spending a lot more, has much pragmatism going for it – especially if you’re hoping to be re-elected.

The decisions Morrison must make come in three parts. First is when it makes sense to start withdrawing the expensive JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme and the surprisingly generous doubling of the JobSeeker payment, which were always intended to be temporary.

The emergency and experimental JobKeeper scheme – which divides those without work into first and second class citizens and is replete with anomalies - will have to be brought to an end sometime.

By contrast, the idea that we could go on starving the unemployed on $40 a day forever was unrealistic. Now, after a recession as bad as this one, it will be a long time before voters again share the Lifters’ prejudice that anyone without a job must be a bludger.

Once most of the economy’s reopened, there will be a bounce back to some extent. But as has become the norm in recent years, the official forecasters are much more optimistic about the extent of the bounce-back than private forecasters are.

If I were Morrison, I wouldn’t be withdrawing any support to the jobless before I’d seen actual figures on the extent of the initial recovery. Withdraw the two key measures too soon and the much feared “second wave” could be economic rather than medical.

The bad news is that government spending to date has merely reduced the depth of the economy’s fall. Of itself, it’s not capable of stimulating growth in private sector demand in any positive sense.

And right now, it’s hard to think of a non-government factor that could drive the economy forward.
Consumer spending by deeply indebted, frightened households that are about to take a cut in their real wages? New investment by businesses facing weak demand for their products and much idle production capacity? Increased exports to a heavily recessed world?

So Morrison’s second pragmatic task is to come up with spending measures to actually kickstart demand in the immediate future. It wouldn’t be hard to think of sensible measures - provided the primary beneficiaries are people ineligible for membership of his Lifters tribe.

Third, this short-term pump-priming does need to be supplemented by reforms to keep the economy growing in the medium to longer term. But the place to look for ideas is the Productivity Commission’s Shifting the Dial report, not his Lifters tribe’s tired trickle-down agenda, which is rent-seeking thinly disguised by Liberal mythology about lower taxes boosting incentives.

It’s pseudo-economics, unsupported by empirical evidence. Rent-seeking is about grabbing a bigger slice of the pie, not growing it. You can get away with this when times are good, but when times are as tough as they will be, and since it doesn’t actually work, it won’t wash with the great unwashed voter.

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Avoiding the R-word won't be as easy as boosting June quarter

Sorry to be blunt, but anyone who thinks avoiding a second quarter of decline in real gross domestic product means avoiding recession needs a lesson in economics.

It’s clear that Scott Morrison’s $17.6 billion stimulus package – what you might call Kevin Rudd with Liberal characteristics – was aimed primarily at boosting economic activity in the June quarter. Fully $11 billion of the $17.6 billion will be spent or rebated from the budget during the quarter.

Half of that will come from the cash-flow rebates to employers, and most of the rest from the $750-a-throw cash splash to social welfare recipients (including parents receiving family payments).

Not all the cash will have been spent, of course, but our and other countries’ experience suggests a lot more will be than you may expect. Former prime minister Rudd’s two cash splashes in 2008 and 2009 are immediately apparent in the retail sales figures of the time.

In any case, to the possible $11 billion you have to add well over $4 billion worth of spending on cars, vans and equipment by small and medium-size businesses, induced by the temporary investment incentive, which will be spent before June 30 but won’t hit the budget until next financial year.

This helps explain why Treasury estimates that the stimulus package will add 1.5 percentage points to whatever other growth or contraction in real GDP we get in the June quarter. Since growth in a normal quarter would be about 0.5 per cent – and, for comparison, Treasury and the Reserve Bank have estimated that the coronavirus will subtract 0.5 percentage points from growth in the present March quarter – this suggests the package stands a good chance of stopping next quarter being a second successive quarter of "negative growth" – contraction.

So, recession avoided? No, all that would have been avoided is having the financial markets and the media running around like headless chooks, shouting the R-word – and so frightening the pants off the rest of the populace – just as it was avoided in the March quarter of 2009, after Rudd’s carefully timed second cash splash.

Let’s be clear. Just as it was exactly right for Rudd and his advisers to do everything they could to avoid a second successive quarter of contraction, so it’s exactly right for Morrison and his advisers to do the same. That’s not because the two-quarters rule makes any sense, it’s because so many silly people think it makes sense.

When you’re trying to head off – or at least minimise – a recession, what people think and feel (their animal spirits) matter as much as what they actually do, for the simple reason that what people think and feel – their "confidence" – ends up having so much influence over what they do.

(What a pity the epidemiologists don’t have the same tried-and-true template for responding to a virus outbreak that economists have for responding to the risk of recession.)

But what anyone who wants to be smarter than the average bear needs to know is that the two-quarters rule makes little sense. It’s no more than an arbitrary rule of thumb with no science behind it. It appeals to the simple souls in the financial markets and the media because it’s simple, objective and (the killer argument) involves minimum waiting.

Only trouble is, for a rule of thumb it doesn’t work well. As the independent economist Saul Eslake demonstrated some years ago, it throws out too many false negatives. That is, it can tell you we don’t have a recession when we do. For instance, two negative quarters separated by even a zero quarter tells you we’re home free. Really? How long will the punters swallow that?

But another problem is that it focuses on the wrong variable – production – when what we really care about is employment and unemployment. Dr David Gruen, now boss of the Australian Bureau of Statistics, once proposed the most watertight definition of recession: "A sustained period of either weak growth or falling real GDP, accompanied by a significant rise in the unemployment rate."

And Eslake has road-tested a different rule, showing it has produced no false signals. It defines recession as "any period during which the rate of unemployment rises by more than 1.5 percentage points in 12 months or less".

Guess what? In the nine months between September 2008 and June 2009, the rate of unemployment rose by 1.6 percentage points to a peak of 5.9 per cent, but then fell back to 5.1 per cent over the following year. So we did have a recession, but it was so short and mild the punters didn’t notice it.

And taming recession so successfully brought Labor no thanks at the ballot box.

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Morrison's trickle-down stimulus may not be enough

I hope I’m wrong, but I doubt if Scott Morrison’s $17.6 billion stimulus package is big enough to stop the temporary shock of the coronavirus outbreak becoming a longer-lasting blow to the economy.

We live in an economy that produces goods and services worth $2 trillion a year. To have a significant impact on the economy we needed measures worth at least 1 per cent of that – about $20 billion in their first year.

To be fair, the package is much bigger than earlier envisaged, but “a touch less than 1 per cent” isn’t as comforting as well over 1 per cent. It’s clear the measures in the package have been carefully designed – Treasury’s fingerprints are everywhere – and Morrison keeps saying it’s “scalable”: it can be added to. Maybe he’s already intending to top it up.

Treasury’s famous advice to former prime minister Kevin Rudd during the global financial crisis in 2008 was “go hard, go early, go households”. That advice is as good today as it was then. Morrison and his Coalition colleagues have spent the past decade finding fault with Rudd’s stimulus but, as the prominent economist Chris Richardson has said, “it worked”.

Apart from not going hard enough, Morrison’s package is – for reasons easy to guess at - half-hearted about “going households” – that is, sending cash direct to households in the hope of making them less worried about their debts and getting them to spend in the shops.

Morrison’s allegedly nothing-like-Labor’s cash splash is $750 a throw, but limited to welfare recipients. Since retailers were doing it tough even before the virus, it should have gone to all low and middle income-earners.

A special feature of the virus “challenge” (as the spin-doctors prefer to put it) will be the need for workers to stay home – and the temptation for the quarter of them not covered by sick leave to keep working and earning when they shouldn’t.

Morrison’s solution is to waive the delay period once casual workers have jumped through all Centrelink’s hoops and applied for the little-used “sickness allowance”. Much easier and more effective to have included them in the cash splash.

Rather than the direct approach of a bigger cash splash, Morrison has favoured the trickle-down approach: he gives cash rebates to small and medium businesses, intended to discourage them from laying off workers if the virus disruption means they don’t have much work to do.

(Big businesses have been incentivised with an appeal to their patriotism. How this works if they are foreign-owned – like the Big Singaporean, BHP - I’m not sure.)

A praise-worthy effort to protect the jobs of the nation’s 120,000 apprentices and services-sector trainees has been included.

The temporary expansion of the instant asset write-off for smaller businesses should have some success in encouraging them to spend on new cars, trucks and equipment before June 30, despite the less-than-booming demand for their products. Of course, this will mainly draw forward spending that now won’t occur over the next year or two.

But the real money - $6.7 billion - will be spent on a temporary scheme to improve the cash flow by between $2000 and $25,000 of small to medium businesses that keep their staff on this year.

Trouble is, much of that money will go to businesses that had no intention of letting their skilled (and thus well-paid) workers go, whereas many small businesses whose workers are unskilled and badly paid (and thus more likely to be let go) won’t be entitled to anything more than the minimum $2000 rebate.

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Sorry, the government can't make the boss pay for your super

When the government compels employers to contribute to their employees’ superannuation, it seems obvious that it’s forcing the bosses to give their workers an extra benefit on top of their wage. Obvious, that is, to everyone but the nation’s economists.

They’re convinced it’s actually the workers themselves who end up paying because employers respond to the government’s compulsion by giving their workers pay rises that are lower than they otherwise would have been.

But can the economists prove their intuition is right? Not until this week.

The argument about who ends up paying for compulsory employee super is hotting up. The Hawke-Keating government’s original scheme required employers to make contributions equal to 9 per cent of a worker’s pay. But when former prime minister Tony Abbott took over from Labor in 2013, he inherited a law requiring the contribution to be gradually increased to 12 per cent.

The Coalition has never approved of compulsory super, which began as part of the union movement’s Accord with the Labor government. By the time Abbott got around to it, the contribution rate had crept up to its present 9.5 per cent, but he managed to persuade the Senate to delay the next (0.5 percentage point) increase until July next year, with the 12 per cent to be reached in July 2025.

Everything about this scheme’s history says Prime Minister Scott Morrison wouldn’t want the contribution rate to go any higher. It’s likely he’s hoping the looming inquiry into super will recommend this, and so help him persuade the Senate to change the law accordingly.

The superannuation industry has been campaigning for years to convince you and me that 9 per cent or so isn’t sufficient to pay for a comfortable retirement, and to get the contribution rate greatly increased. In this, the non-profit “industry” super funds (with much union involvement) are at one with the largely bank-owned, for-profit part of the super industry.

Apart from some important reports by the Productivity Commission, the most authoritative independent analysis of super comes from Brendan Coates of the Grattan Institute. Grattan has argued that raising the compulsory contribution rate would be contrary to employees’ interests, forcing them to live on less during their working lives so their incomes in retirement could be higher than they were used to and more than they needed.

To strengthen the case for continuing to raise the contribution rate, the industry funds have commissioned a couple of studies purporting to show that the conventional wisdom is wrong and contributions do indeed come at the employers’ expense.

So this week Grattan issued a paper providing empirical evidence supporting the economists’ conventional wisdom that, in the end, workers have to pay for their own super.

If the notion that employees pay for employers’ contributions strikes you as strange and hard to believe, it shouldn’t. Consider the goods and services tax. Have you ever sent the taxman a cheque for the GST you pay? No, never. The cheques are written by the businesses you buy from. So, does that mean they pay GST but you don’t? Of course not. Why not? Because the businesses pass the tax on to you in the retail prices they charge.

Economists have long understood that the “legal incidence” of a tax (who’s required to write the cheque) and the “economic incidence” or ultimate burden (who ends up paying the tax) are usually different.

It’s convenient for the government to collect taxes from a smaller number of businesses rather than from a huge number of consumers or employees. Economists know that businesses may pass the burden of the taxes they pay “forward” to their customers or “backward” to their employees. Only if neither of those is possible is the ultimate burden of the tax passed from the business to its owners.

Naturally, the business would like to pass the burden anywhere but to its owners. But whether it’s passed forward or backward (or some combination of the three) will be determined by the market circumstances the business finds itself in.

That is, the question can’t be answered from economic theory, but must be answered with empirical evidence (experience in the real world). Theory (using the simple demand and supply diagram familiar to all economics students – see page 12 of the Grattan report) can, however, clarify the exact question.

Theory suggests that the ultimate destination of the burden depends on how workers and employers respond when super is increased. There are two “effects”. First, when workers value an extra dollar of super, even if they value it less than an extra dollar of wages, then some (but not all) of the cost of super will come out of their wages.

Second, if workers’ willingness to work doesn’t vary much when wages change – that is, if labour supply is relatively “inelastic” – then they’d be expected to bear a larger share of the cost. Similarly, if employers’ willingness to hire people doesn’t vary much when wages change – labour demand is inelastic – then more of the cost will fall on the bosses.

Most overseas studies have confirmed the economists' conventional wisdom. But what about us?

Coates and his team examined the details of 80,000 federal workplace agreements made between 1991 and 2018. They found that, on average, about 80 per cent of the cost of increases in compulsory super was passed back to workers through lower wage rises within the life of an enterprise agreement, usually two to three years. (This leaves open the question of how much of the remaining 20 per cent was passed forward to customers in higher prices.)

Only about a third of workers are covered by enterprise agreements. For the many wages linked to the Fair Work Commission’s annual adjustments to award wages, it has said explicitly that when super goes up, award wages grow more slowly. As for workers covered by individual agreements, it’s a safe bet which way the employers will jump.

Whatever it suits the superannuation industry to claim, increased super contributions are no free lunch.

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Morrison's dream: climate fixed with no changes to jobs or tax

When I was new to journalism, there was a saying that the two words which, when used in a newsagents’ poster or a headline, would attract the most readers, were "free" and "tax". These days, the two words politicians use to suck in unwary voters are "jobs" and "tax".

These words have magical powers because we attach our own meaning to them and assume the polly is using them to imply what we think they imply. They evoke in us an emotional reaction – welcoming in the case of "jobs", disapproving in the case of "tax" – and so we ask no further questions.

Those two words have the magical ability to cut through our distrust and disarm our powers of critical thought. Scott Morrison has been using both in his belated response to this appalling summer of bushfires, heatwaves, smoke haze and dust.

Many of us have realised how terrible climate change actually is, that it’s already happening and will keep getting worse – much worse – unless all the world’s big countries get serious about largely eliminating their carbon emissions, and doing so pretty quickly.

Although Australia is a big emitter relative to our small population, in absolute volume we’re not in the same league as America, China or Europe. But the rest of the world’s horrified reaction to our fire season has helped us see we’re in the vanguard, that the Wide Brown Land is going to cop it a lot harder than the green and pleasant lands.

So our self interest lies not just in doing our fair share, but in doing more than our share, so we’re well placed to press the big boys to try harder.

Initially, Morrison seemed to want us to believe he agreed with those saying we must do more to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. "We want to reduce emissions and do the best job we possibly can and get better and better at it. In the years ahead, we are going to continue to evolve our policy in this area to reduce emissions even further," he said.

But then he wanted to reassure his party’s climate-change deniers, and those of us who want to fight climate change without paying any personal price, that nothing had changed. "But what I won’t do is this: I am not going to sell out Australians – I am not going to sell out Australians based on the calls from some to put higher taxes on them or push up their electricity prices or to abandon their jobs and their industries."

On the question of jobs, don’t assume it’s your job he’s promising to save. What we know is that jobs in the coal industry are sacred, but what happens to other jobs isn’t the focus of his concern. Don’t forget, this is the same government which, as one of its first acts, decided we no longer needed a motor vehicle industry. Favoured existing jobs take priority over future jobs – which can look after themselves.

But even this doesn’t fully expose the trickiness of the things politicians say about jobs. What governments usually end up protecting in an industry isn’t its jobs, but its profits. For instance, when not in the hearing of North Queensland voters, Adani boasts about how highly automated its mine will be. Apart from the few years it takes to construct a mine, mining involves a lot of expensive imported machines and precious few jobs.

Looking back, it’s arguable that most of the jobs lost from manufacturing were lost to automation, not the removal of tariff protection.

As for taxes, the latest turn in Morrison’s spin cycle is that his "climate action agenda" is "driven by technology not taxation". This, apparently, is a reference to technologies such as hydrogen, carbon capture and storage, lithium production, biofuels and waste-to-energy.

Like many of politicians’ efforts to mislead us, this contains a large dollop of truth. It’s likely that our move to zero net emissions will involve the adoption of most if not all of those new technologies, in the process creating many job opportunities in new industries and – inevitably – doing so at the expense of jobs in existing fossil-fuel industries.

So this seems to have a lot of similarity with Professor Ross Garnaut’s vision of us becoming a renewable-energy superpower. But get this: Garnaut’s grand plan has been designed to require no return to any form of carbon tax.

Economists advocate "putting a price on carbon" because they believe it’s the best way to minimise the ultimate cost to the economy (and the punters who make it up) of moving to a low-carbon economy.

But if Australian voters are stupid enough to allow some on-the-make politicians to persuade them to reject the economists’ advice, then so be it. You prefer to do it the expensive way? Okay, have it your way. There’s no shortage of more costly alternatives.

So Morrison is busy demolishing a straw man. Why? Because he wants to distract your attention from the likelihood that his preferred way of skinning the cat will require a big increase in government spending to facilitate all those new technologies and industries.

You don’t think this increased spending will eventually have to be covered by higher taxes? Dream on.

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Why are the Viking economies so successful? They pull together

I’d like to tell you I’ve been away working hard on a study tour of the Nordic economies – or perhaps tracing the remnant economic impact of the Hanseatic League (look it up) – but the truth is we were too busy enjoying the sights around Scandinavia and the Baltic for me to spend much time reading the books and papers I’d taken along.

But since I always like telling people what I did on my holidays (oh, those fjords and waterfalls we saw while sailing up the coast of Norway to the Arctic Circle!), I’ve been looking up facts and figures in a forthcoming book comparing the main developed countries on many criteria, by my mate Professor Rod Tiffen and others at Sydney University (and me).

But first, the travelogue. Prosperous countries have a lot in common but Scandinavia is different. I have seen the future and, while some might regard it as political correctness gone mad, it looked pretty good to me.

One aspect in which the Nordics (strictly speaking, Finland isn’t Scandinavian because it’s a republic rather than a monarchy and because the Finnish language bears no relation to Danish, Swedish or Norwegian) are way more advanced is the role of women.

All of them have had female prime ministers or presidents, they have loads of female politicians and we were always seeing women out at business functions with their male colleagues.

Governments spend much more on childcare and they’re big on men actually taking paid paternity leave. They have “family zones” in trains and we were struck by how many men we saw by themselves pushing prams.

They’re much more relaxed on sexual matters. These days, any new building in Sweden will have unisex toilets, with rows of cubicles and not a urinal to be seen. Neat way of sidestepping debates about which toilet transgender people should use.

The Nordics are well ahead of us on environmental matters. They’re bicycle crazy (a big health hazard for tourists who don’t know they’re standing in a bike lane) and drive small cars.

They’re obsessed with organic food and even hotel guests are expected to recycle their paper and plastic. One hotel we stayed at in Copenhagen was so concerned to save the planet its policy was to make up the rooms only every fourth day.

The Norwegians have made and, unlike the rest of us, saved their pile by selling oil to the world but you get the feeling it troubles their conscience. So, like the other Nordics, they have ambitious targets to move to renewables and, to that end, are making more use of carbon pricing than most other countries.

The truth is, I’ve long wanted to see Scandinavia for myself. It’s a part of the world that most politicians and economists prefer not to think about. Why not? Because its performance laughs at all they believe about how to run a successful economy.

Everyone in the English-speaking economies knows big government is the enemy of efficiency. The less governments do, the better things go. The lower we can get our taxes, the more we’ll grow.

Just ask Scott Morrison. As he loves to say, no one ever taxed their way to prosperity. What’s he doing to encourage jobs and growth? Cutting taxes, of course. That’s Economics 101 – so obvious it doesn’t need explaining.

Trouble is, the Nordics have some of the highest rates of government spending in the world and pay among the highest levels of taxation, but have hugely successful economies.

The Danes pay 46 per cent of gross domestic product in total taxes, the Finns pay 44 per cent, the Swedes 43 per cent and the Norwegians 38 per cent (compared with our 28 per cent).

Measured by GDP per person, Norway's standard of living is well ahead of America's. Then come the Danes and the Swedes – at around the average for 18 developed democracies (as are we) – with the Finns just beating out the Brits and the French further down the list.

The Nordics are also good at managing their government budgets.

We all know unions are bad for jobs and growth and we’ve succeeded in getting our rate of union membership down to 17 per cent. Funny that, the Nordics still have the highest rates (up around two-thirds). So, do they have lots of strikes? No.

The four Nordics are right at the top when it comes to the smallest gap between rich and poor, with Canada, Australia, Britain and the United States right at the bottom.

Other indicators show that (provided you ignore the long snowy winters) the Nordics enjoy a high quality of life and not just a high material standard of living.

Note this: I’m not claiming that the Scandinavians are more economically successful because of their big government and high taxes. No, I’m saying that, contrary to the unshakable beliefs of many economists and all conservative politicians, there’s little connection between economic success and the size of government.

So how do the Scandis do it? I read this on the wall of an art museum in Aarhus, Denmark: “In a society we are mutually interdependent. Strengthening the spirit of community, we improve society for all of us as a group but we also provide each individual with better opportunities for realising his or her own potential.”

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Why government-controlled prices are soaring

As if Scott Morrison didn’t have enough problems on his plate, we learnt last week that government-administered prices are rising much faster than prices charged by the private sector.

Last week my colleague Shane Wright dug out figures from the bowels of the consumer price index showing that, over the almost six years since the election of the Abbott government in September 2013, the prices of all the goods and services in the CPI basket have risen by just 10.4 per cent, whereas the government-administered prices in the basket rose by 26 per cent.

Some of those "administered" prices actually fell and others rose by less than prices overall. But let’s do what everyone does and focus on the really big increases.

Behavioural economics tell us that people’s perceptions of the cost of living are exaggerated by a ubiquitous mental shortcut psychologists call "salience". We tend to remember the things that leapt out at us at the time and forget all the things that didn’t.

So, for instance, we vividly remember the shock we got when we opened our electricity bill and saw how huge it was and how much it had increased.

In round figures, the cost of secondary education rose by 30 per cent over the period, childcare by 27 per cent, postal costs by 27 per cent, hospital and medical services by 36 per cent, council rates by 21 per cent, cigarettes by 109 per cent, gas prices by 16 per cent and electricity by 12 per cent (most of the bigger increase came during the term of the previous Labor government).

Not hard to see that the government has a huge salience problem. Plenty of scope there for the punters to convince themselves the cost of living is soaring.

But what should Morrison do? At a glance, the problem's obvious: government prices rising much faster than market prices say governments are hopelessly wasteful and inefficient. So expose the government to competition and the waste will be competed away, to the benefit of all.

Sorry, the true story’s much more complicated. Indeed, part of the problem is the backfiring of governments’ earlier attempts to make the provision of government services "contestable".

Let’s look deeper. For a start, some of the increase in administered "prices" is actually increases in taxation. The doubling in cigarette prices is the result of the phased massive increase in tobacco excise begun by Malcolm Turnbull.

Local council rates work by applying a certain rate of tax to the unimproved land value of properties. State governments usually cap the extent to which the tax rate can be increased, but the base to which it’s applied soars every time there’s a housing boom.

Postal costs rise because we want to continue being able to post letters to anywhere in Australia at a uniform price, even though we're actually doing it less and less, thus sending economies of scale into reverse. Australia Post would have been privatised long ago if any business thought it could make a profit from the business without scrapping the letter service.

The doubling in the retail prices of the now largely privatised (but still heavily regulated) electricity industry over the past decade is the classic demonstration that attempts to introduce competition to monopoly industries are no simple matter and can easily backfire.

The cost of childcare has been rising over the years because governments have been raising quality standards – staff-child ratios, better educated and paid workers. Is that bad? This formerly community-owned sector has long been open to competition from for-profit providers without this showing any sign of helping to limit price increases.

Even so, childcare is heavily subsidised by the federal government. This government’s more generous subsidy scheme caused the net out-of-pocket cost to parents (which is what the CPI measures) to fall a little last financial year.

The modest suggested fees in government schools wouldn't have risen much over the past six years. If private school fees have risen strongly despite the heavy taxpayer subsidies going to Catholic and independent schools, it’s because the number of parents willing to pay them shows little sign of diminishing. Hardly the government’s problem.

Detailed figures show that the out-of-pocket costs for pharmaceuticals rose by less than 6 per cent (thanks to reforms in the pharmaceutical benefits scheme) and for therapeutic goods fell a few per cent, while for dental services they kept pace with the overall CPI, leaving the out-of-pocket costs of hospital and medical services up by a cool 36 per cent.

That tells you private health insurance is falling apart. Add the continuing problems with needs-based funding of schools, and electricity and gas prices, and the scope for further efficiency improvements in healthcare, and you see the Morrison government has plenty to be going on with.

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Kiwis go one up and bring happiness to the budget

Like the past, New Zealand is a foreign country. They do things differently there. While we’ve just had a budget promising what seems like the world’s biggest tax cut, the Kiwis have just had what may be the world’s first “wellbeing budget”. Bit of a contrast.

I’ve long believed that all government politicians everywhere, when they’re not simply delivering for their backers, are trying to make voters happy and thus get themselves re-elected. They just differ in how they go about it.

Like governments everywhere, our governments of both colours have seen delivering economic growth - and the jobs and higher material living standards it’s expected to bring - as the chief thing we want of them to make us happier.

To this end they’ve adopted as their chief indicator of success the rate of growth in GDP – gross domestic product – which measures the nation’s production of goods and services during a period.
They’ve largely assumed that the extra income produced by this growth is distributed fairly between us - though, in recent decades, the share going to those near the top has grown a lot faster than the shares of everyone else.

This, presumably, is Australian voters’ “revealed preference”, since we’ve just rejected the party promising to cut various tax breaks going mainly to high income-earners and use the proceeds to increase spending on hospitals, schools and childcare, in favour of the party offering tax cuts worth an immediate saving of $1080 a year to middle income-earners and delayed savings of up to $11,640 a year to those of us on $200,000 and above.

According to the Liberal winners, voters in outer suburbs and the regions turned away from Labor because it would have dashed their “aspirations” to one day be earning two or three times what they’re earning today and so be raking it in from family trusts, negatively geared investments and, above all, refunds of unused franking credits.

But if our aspirations to happiness revolve around more money in general and less tax in particular, our cousins across the dutch aspire to a radically different brand of happiness.

According to their Finance Minister Grant Robertson, in his budget speech, New Zealanders were asking “if we have declared success because we have a relatively high rate of GDP growth, why are the things that we value going backwards - like child wellbeing, a warm, dry home for all, mental health services or rivers and lakes we can swim in?

“The answer to that question was that the things New Zealanders valued were not being sufficiently valued by the government . . . So, today in this first wellbeing budget, we are measuring and focusing on what New Zealanders value – the health of our people and our environment, the strengths of our communities and the prosperity of our nation.

“Success is making New Zealand both a great place to make a living, and a great place to make a life.”

According to the nest of socialists who’ve overrun the NZ Treasury, “there is more to wellbeing than just a healthy economy”. So GDP has been moved from its central place, replaced by Treasury’s “living standards framework”, based on the four sources of capital: natural capital (land, soil, water, plants and animals, minerals and energy resources), human capital (the education, skills and health of the population), social capital (the behavioural norms and institutions that influence the way people live and work together) and human-made capital (factories, offices, equipment, houses and infrastructure).

The living standards framework covers 12 “domains”: income and consumption, and jobs and earnings (which two cover GDP), and “subjective wellbeing” (the $10 term for happiness), plus health, housing, knowledge and skills, the environment, civic engagement and governance, time use, safety and security, cultural identity and social connections.

The wellbeing budget then set out five government priorities: improving mental health, reducing child poverty, addressing inequalities faced by Maori and Pacific island people, thriving in a digital age, and transitioning to a low-emission, sustainable economy.

I’ve often thought this would be the right way for governments to go about increasing “aggregate happiness” – by focusing on reducing the main sources of un-happiness.

To make a start, the budget provides almost $1billion over five years to improve the wellbeing of children, including extra funding for low-income schools, more help for children affected by domestic and sexual violence, and indexing family benefits to wages rather than prices.

The budget’s expensive mental health package includes creation of a new frontline service and funds to help people with mild-to-moderate mental health problems rather than making them wait until their problems worsen. Helping people with addictions is also seen as a health issue.

A “sustainable land-use” package works on the environmental challenges facing agriculture, including excess nutrient flows into iconic lakes and rivers.

Despite all this, the budget sticks to the government’s budget responsibility rules, with surpluses forecast and reduction of public debt. According to Saint Jacinda of Ardern, the wellbeing budget “shows you can be both economically responsible and kind”.

So, those uppity Kiwis think they can walk and chew gum at the same time. Fortunately, we Aussies know not to try.

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