The RBA is spooked by pay rises. It should relax

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

When the Reserve Bank meets next week, it will probably cut interest rates. But it will be some time before it is comfortable enough to lower them to a level that isn’t grinding down economic growth.

Already, some economists have slammed the bank for being slow to cut rates, saying it’s causing more cost-of-living pain than necessary for people with home loans.

Now that the bank’s preferred measure of inflation is within its 2 per cent to 3 per cent target range and the economy has slowed to a crawl (with the risk of a further slowdown as US President Donald Trump’s tariffs hit home), those criticisms are growing louder.

So, why is the Reserve Bank still determined to keep the economy growing below its potential? A lot of it comes down to the bank’s phobia of pay rises – which, like many modern-day fears, served us well in the past but aren’t so useful today.

One of the first rules we learn in economics is that the prices we pay are determined by the balance between supply and demand: when supply of a good or service outstrips demand for it, prices fall, and when demand exceeds supply, prices rise.

Then, we learn all the reasons why this rule isn’t that simple. For example, if a business has a lot of power (maybe it has few competitors), it can charge more for its goods and services.

On the other hand, when customers hold more power, they can drive prices down. How do you think the Australian government manages to negotiate cheaper prices for medicines it buys from other countries? By acting as a single buyer, representing millions of Australians, which gives it a lot more bargaining power than if you or me, individually, tried to negotiate with the pharmaceutical giants. This is what’s called a “monopsony”.

Put simply: prices are determined by the balance of supply and demand – but also the power balance between buyers and sellers.

Our wages are determined in a similar way, which is what the Reserve Bank has been worried about. At almost every interest rate decision in the past couple of years, the bank has mentioned the strong labour market as a reason for its reluctance to cut rates.

Think of your wage as the price of the work you supply. Workers sell their labour to companies which buy – or employ labour. This is called the labour market.

When there’s more demand for workers than there is supply, we have a labour shortage and unemployment tends to be low. This is the position we’ve been in for the past few years, when unemployment dropped to a record low of 3.4 per cent and has remained historically low at roughly 4 per cent.

While this might seem like a good thing, the Reserve Bank is worried.

Its biggest concern is inflation, which it’s worried could follow the same path it did in the 1970s. That is, prices could spike back up if unemployment stays low and businesses give us big wage rises which, in turn, could feed into higher prices.

How do we know the bank is biting its nails? Because of how carefully it’s treading. While inflation hit nearly 8 per cent in 2022, that figure has fallen a lot over the past two years. Yet in that time, the central bank has cut interest rates only once (and raised them six times).

To be fair, employment is growing robustly (a huge 89,000 additional Australians were employed in April compared with March) and job vacancy data shows there’s still a big worker shortage.

But a “wage explosion” is unlikely given the labour market has changed radically since the 1970s.

Wages have finally started growing faster than inflation, but it’s been at a relatively modest pace of 3.4 per cent over the year – and following a year-and-a-half in which wage growth fell short of price rises.

So, what explains the Reserve Bank’s worries of excessive wage growth?

For one thing, the bank relies on a relatively neoclassical view of how the economy works, one in which demand and supply (in this case, of labour) determine price levels, including wages, with individual firms having little control over how much to pay their workers. It’s why the bank is constantly surprised by the strength of the labour market – and waiting (with little avail) for wages to spring up out of it like a jack in a box.

Meanwhile, this lack of a wage explosion comes as no surprise to a lot of labour economists, including Professor Emeritus David Peetz from the Carmichael Centre.

That’s because the neoclassical view of economics tends to assume everyone has roughly equal bargaining power, while many labour economists acknowledge that isn’t the case – especially in recent years.

Peetz argues that real wages – that is, wages adjusted for inflation – have been held back in Australia in recent decades because workers’ power to negotiate has been persistently eaten away.

“Workers have lost a lot of power since the last wages explosion in the 1970s,” he says, noting that from 2014 to 2022, government policies such as WorkChoices have taken away workers’ bargaining power.

The Reserve Bank isn’t totally blind to this. Their economists have written about bargaining power and its relationship with wages. But their justification of interest rate decisions suggests they don’t give much weight to it.

While the bank might worry the current skills shortage could lead to a wage spike and further inflation as in the 1970s, Peetz points out employers now rarely feel compelled to hand out pay rises in response to skills shortages.

In 2023, Jobs and Skills Australia, a federal government agency, asked employers what they do in response to a skills shortage. Only 1 per cent said they would adjust how much they paid their workers.

Why? Because there’s not as much pressure to do so when only one in seven Australian workers are part of a union (it was one in two during the 1970s). The threat of industrial action such as strikes is much smaller. Only 100,000 working days were lost in 2021 compared with 6.3 million working days lost to industrial action in 1974.

While workers in 1974-75 managed to win wage rises of 10 per cent accounting for inflation, workers went backwards by 3 per cent in 2021-22.

This is because of several changes including legal changes in recent decades which have made collective bargaining (in which workers across an entire industry band together to negotiate) less common than enterprise bargaining, in which workers negotiate directly with their employer.

Wage increases won through enterprise bargaining apply only to workers at a specific business or site, limiting those workers’ negotiating power as well as how far the wage rise, if won, can spread. While a wage rise at one company might put some pressure on another company to do the same, in practice, this kind of flow-on impact is limited.

While changes under the Albanese Labor government such as its same job, same pay policy have started to hand more power back to workers, rampant wage rises – and a resurgence in inflation – are far from a big threat to the economy. The Reserve Bank can, and probably should, relax a bit, too.

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Hey Dutton: Good economic managers don't try to panic the punters

A problem in economics is that you can’t use the economy to do experiments. But as economists realised some years ago, sometimes the economy presents you with circumstances that constitute a “natural experiment”. This happened last week, and Peter Dutton flunked the test.

In the days immediately after Mad King Donald’s big tariffs announcement on “Ruination Day”, sharemarkets around the world were crashing, people were feeling panicky and no one was sure what it meant or where it would lead, except that it sounded very, very bad. As usual, the media wasn’t helping.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers and his boss, and Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock, were doing their job, calmly trying to calm everyone down. Acknowledging the great uncertainty, but trying not to add to it.

Treasury had done some initial modelling, and though it looked bad, it didn’t look that bad. Bullock and her boffins had thought hard about it and decided we’d weather the cyclone without too much damage. Certainly, we were well-placed to withstand the buffeting. (Translation: the Reserve had plenty of scope to cut interest rates if necessary, and unemployment was unusually low.)

So, how did the leader of the party claiming to be the best at managing the economy react? He should have resisted all his instincts as a good economic manager to join the authorities and help put out the fire, and just kept his mouth shut.

How did Dutton react? He thought: “You little beauty, here’s my chance to put the frighteners on. I’ll go for it.” So he stoked fears that a recession was imminent.

Asked if Australia was heading into recession, he replied, “it is under Labor” and “the government hasn’t prepared our economy”.

Elsewhere, he said: “We know that Australian families have lived through almost two years of household recession. That’s what Labor has already delivered during the term of government.

“The treasurer is talking about a 50-point reduction in interest rates, which means obviously he sees a recession coming for our economy.”

With that performance, Dutton has disqualified himself from high office. He’s been a cabinet minister for decades, but still hasn’t learnt – or doesn’t care – that people at the top don’t use the R-word until the numbers actually on the board leave them no choice.

He doesn’t know that, whereas individual commentators like me can say what they like without anyone taking much notice, when people in high office speculate about the likelihood of recession, confidence is further damaged, which risks making their predictions self-fulfilling.

Despite his bachelor’s of economics, Anthony Albanese has taken little interest in the economy, but at least he knows what not to say. Dutton’s problem is his Superman complex. He sees himself as responsible for the saving us from the rising tide of crime and pestilence that besets us.

His powers allow him to see what we can’t: the roaming African gangs keeping Melburnians trapped in their homes; the women in supermarkets with machetes being held to their throats.

This is how he knows he can do a deal with Trump that Albanese can’t; he can save us from the recession that’s inevitable under Albanese. He doesn’t need to know the details of economics because he has kryptonite to do his heavy lifting.

Note that Dutton’s shadow treasurer, Angus Taylor, hasn’t joined him in his fearmongering. Taylor is a qualified economist of good repute. His trouble is that, not having served an apprenticeship in a minister’s office, he can’t play politics at a professional standard. He can’t tell lies with a straight face.

He wouldn’t have resorted to the muddled thinking Dutton used to justify bandying the R-word about. Dutton thinks Chalmers’ self-serving prediction of imminent hefty interest rate cuts is proof a recession is coming. It doesn’t occur to Superman that, if rates were cut sharply, the objective would be to forestall a recession. Is he implying that he could prevent recession without cutting rates?

It’s true that, thanks partly to high rates (but also an earlier fall in real wages, and massive bracket creep), consumer spending has been weak, so that only strong growth in the population has kept gross domestic product struggling on. Many have said this means we’ve suffered a “per-person recession” for the past two years.

But let’s get real. And let’s not be misled by the money market and media-promoted nonsense that two successive quarterly falls in real GDP constitute a “technical” recession. Why is it that sensible people live in fear of recessions and responsible political leaders never use the R-word until they have to?

Well, it’s not because GDP has fallen backwards for a couple of quarters. What can take a bit longer to appear is the consequence of a significant fall in economic activity: falling employment and rising unemployment. It’s the sight of thousands of people losing their jobs, the fear you may be next, and the knowledge that it would take weeks or months to find a new job, that scares the pants off normal people.

So, if we’ve been in “per-person recession” for two years, what’s happened to the jobs market in that time? Total employment has risen by more than 750,000, the proportion of working-age people with jobs is almost the highest it’s ever been, and the rate of unemployment has crept up just 0.5 percentage points to a still-amazingly-low 4 per cent.

Does that sound like a recession to you? It’s the complete antithesis of a recession, which is why the Reserve has been so reluctant to cut interest rates.

In this campaign, there’s been far too much whingeing about the cost of living with almost no acknowledgement of one fact that should have all of us thanking our lucky stars: our jobs market has never been better. Almost everyone who wants a job can find one – or more than one.

In all Dutton’s efforts to convince us life is insufferable, and it’s solely Albanese’s fault, there’s been zero mention of our tip-top jobs market. In all our self-pity, we’ve allowed a man with no interest in the economy, and little knowledge of economics, to mislead us.

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Are you better off now? That's Dutton's trick question

For most people, the simple answer to Peter Dutton’s repeated question – are you better off today than you were three years ago? – is “no, I’m not”. But if Dutton can convince us this is the key question we need to answer in this election, he’ll have conned us into giving him an easy run into government.

Why? Because it’s the wrong question. It’s the question of a high-pressure salesman. A question that makes the problem seem a lot simpler than it is. A question for people who don’t like using their brain.

And it’s a question that points us away from the right question, which is: which of the two sides seems more likely to advance the nation’s interests in the coming three years?

Economists have a concept called “sunk costs” – money (or time) that you’ve spent, and you can’t unspend. Economics teaches an obvious lesson: you can’t change the past, so forget it and focus on what you can change, the future.

But, since it’s become such a central issue in this election, let’s dissect Dutton’s magic question. For a start, it’s completely self-centred. Focus on what’s happened to you and your family and forget about what’s happened to anyone else.

Similarly, the implication is to focus on the monetary side of life. Forget about what’s happened to the natural environment, what we’ve done to limit climate change, and what we’ve done about intergenerational equity – the way we rigged the system to favour the elderly at the expense of the young.

Next, Dutton’s question is quite subjective. He’s not asking us to do some calculations about our household budget or to look up some statistics, just to say whether we feel better or worse off.

Guess what? This subjectivity makes us more likely to answer no. As we’ve learnt from the psychologists, humans have evolved to remember bad events more strongly than good events.

This is why most people believe that inflation is much higher than the consumer price index tells us. As they do their weekly grocery shopping, they remember the price rises much more clearly than any price falls. And in the personal CPI they carry in their heads, they take no account of the many prices that didn’t change – which they should, and the real CPI does.

Humans find the bad more interesting and memorable than the good because the bad is more threatening, and we have evolved to search our environment for threats.

In this case, however, objective measurement confirms that most people are right in thinking their household budgets are harder to balance than they were three years ago. There are various ways to measure living standards, but probably the best single measure is something called “real net national household disposable income per person”.

Between June 2022 and March 2024 (the latest quarter available), it fell by 3.6 per cent. It may have recovered a bit in the 12 months since then, but not by enough to stop it having fallen overall.

But that’s just an economy-wide average. We can break it down into more specific household categories. Those dependent on income from wages are worse off because consumer prices rose a little faster than wages – though wage rises fell well short of price rises in the couple of years before Labor came to power. This is a shortfall wage-earning households would still be feeling in their efforts to balance their budgets.

The rise in interest rates since the last election means the households feeling by far the most pain over the past three years are those with mortgages.

This also means those who own their homes outright have felt the least pain. Most people on the age pension have done OK because most of them own their homes and the age pension is fully indexed to the rise in consumer prices.

As for the so-called self-funded retirees, they’ve been laughing. Not only do they own their homes, their super and other investments earn more when interest rates are high.

True, it’s common for elections to be used to sack governments who’ve presided over tough economic times. Be in power during a recession and you’re dead meat. So elections are often used to punish governments, on the rationale that the other lot couldn’t possibly be worse.

But the side that benefits from such circumstances, taking over when everything’s a mess, won’t have it easy getting everyone back to work and having no trouble with the mortgage in just three years.

I can remember when the Morrison government was tossed out in 2022, smarties among the Liberals telling themselves this probably wasn’t a bad election to lose. Why? Because they could see consumer prices had taken off and had further to go. Using higher interest rates to get the inflation rate back down would be painful and protracted, possibly inducing a recession.

This is why Dutton’s question is so seductive to people who don’t follow politics and the economy, and don’t want to use their grey matter. “If I felt the pain on your watch, it’s obvious you’re to blame and you get the sack. Don’t bother me with the details.”

Remember, however, that all the rich economies suffered the same inflation surge we did, all of them responded with higher interest rates, and most suffered rising unemployment and even, like the Kiwis, a recession. But not us.

So let me ask you a different question: over the past three years have you ever had cause to worry about losing your job? Have you spent a lot of time unemployed while you find one? Have more people in your house been able to find work?

Our employment rate is higher than it’s ever been. Our rate of unemployment is still almost the lowest it’s been in 50 years. This has happened because the Albanese government and the Reserve Bank agreed to get inflation down without a recession.

But the price of avoiding recession is interest rates staying higher for longer. If you think Labor jumped the wrong way, kick the bastards out.

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RBA is lost in the frightening territory of full employment

The Reserve Bank’s behaviour last week can only be described as bizarre. It’s a sign that it’s lost its bearings and isn’t sure what’s happening in the economy or where it’s headed. What has caused its befuddlement? Our unexpected return to near full employment. Sheesh. Whadda we do now?

The way “monetary policy” – the Reserve’s manipulation of interest rates – normally works is that, when the rate of price inflation gets too high, it raises interest rates to discourage borrowing and spending. Then, when the demand for goods and services has weakened and the rate of inflation has started slowing, the Reserve starts cutting interest rates back to their normal level.

But that’s not what began last week. After raising the official interest rate by 4.25 percentage points to 4.35 per cent and keeping it there for 15 months, the Reserve cut by 0.25 points, but made it clear it wasn’t sure it should have cut, and warned us not to assume further cuts would follow.

It would wait and see what happened. It didn’t say so, but it left open the possibility that, should inflation start going back up, it would resume raising the official rate.

Huh? What on Earth are these guys playing at? Are rates coming down or aren’t they? It was a case of bureaucratic arse-covering. Hosts of people – those with mortgages, the financial markets and many economists – were demanding a rate cut, and the Reserve didn’t want to get the blame should Anthony Albanese get tossed out at the looming election.

So it sent a signal that rates were coming down, then said it wasn’t a signal. It’s obvious the government was desperate for a rate cut, but note this: at all times Albanese and Treasurer Jim Chalmers have stuck to the agreed etiquette of never publicly expressing any opinion on what the Reserve should or shouldn’t do.

It’s not the first time the Reserve has engaged in arse-covering. Governor Michele Bullock admitted last week that the central bank waited too long before starting to raise rates in 2022. But it made sure it got the first increase in before the May 2022 election, at which the Morrison government got tossed out.

Had it waited until after the election, it would have been criticised for doing the Liberals a favour and, in the process, letting people think the inflation problem arose under Labor.

The point many otherworldly economists don’t get is that just because a central bank is independent of the elected government doesn’t mean it can escape politics. Why not? Because we live in a democracy.

The great contradiction of central bank independence is that, for the bank, it’s all care but no responsibility. If it stuffs up the economy, the governor doesn’t lose her job, the prime minister does. And that’s when the pollies – on both sides – tend to get vengeful.

When a central bank lacks independence, it can leave the politics to the pollies. But if it is independent, it has to do its own politics, which is what Bullock was doing last week.

But why is the Reserve so anxious about cutting rates when underlying inflation is heading down, isn’t far above the 2 to 3 per cent target range, and most economists think monetary policy should be eased? Short answer: because its boffins aren’t old enough to have lived in an economy that’s close to full employment.

Thanks to the excessive monetary and budgetary stimulus applied during the pandemic, the economy boomed and, just after the change of government, unemployment fell to 3.5 per cent, its lowest in almost 50 years. After more than two years of higher interest rates, it’s still only up to 4.1 per cent.

After the review of the Reserve Bank, it was decided to have the longstanding lip-service goal of full employment raised to equal status with the Reserve’s inflation target.

For the past five decades, we and the other rich economies have used a mathematical calculation called the “non-accelerating inflation” rate of unemployment, NAIRU, to give achieving low inflation priority over low unemployment.

This made it easy to get inflation down. You used interest rates to give the economy an almighty hit on the head, causing unemployment to shoot up and the rate of inflation to fall rapidly. Only small problem: you never got back to low unemployment.

This time, however, the Reserve sought to avoid a great worsening in unemployment by not hitting the economy too hard. The consequence has been a slower and less certain return to low inflation. And the jobs market has kept happily steaming along.

Despite flat consumer spending and weak business investment in capital equipment, employment’s still growing strongly and unemployment has risen only a little. The proportion of people with jobs is higher than ever, showing that supply has had no trouble keeping up with demand.

But this is scaring the pants off the Reserve’s boffins. With the labour market so “tight”, surely wages could take off at any moment, halting the fall in inflation – or worse, sending it back up. What’s unnerving them is an old ’70s-model NAIRU machine in the corner, with its red lights flashing and siren blaring. Panic stations. Assume the brace position.

This explains last week’s signal that the Reserve was cutting rates and not cutting them at the same time. When it says what it does next will depend on the data, it means “we’re not really sure what the hell’s going on”.

Trouble is, the world has changed a lot since the invention of the NAIRU machine in the 1970s. The unions used to be able to force excessive pay rises on their bosses, but globalisation, deregulation and the collapse in union membership have changed all that.

The Reserve’s boffins, however, have been so busy with their maths and modelling that they haven’t noticed how much the world has changed. They don’t even seem to have noticed that their regular forecasts of wage growth have been way too high for more than a decade.

No wonder they’re so worried. And until they get the memo, the Reserve will go on punishing everyone impertinent enough to have a mortgage.

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In 50 years, Trump will be remembered as just a puzzling footnote

I know I’m a bit late, but welcome to 2025. Before we get on with a year of absolutely gratuitous economic angst courtesy of a great American conman’s second coming, let’s take a breath and realise we’re already a quarter of the way through what many still think of as the “new” century.

How time flies while you’re preoccupied with one crisis – one damn thing – after another. I hate to undercut the media’s business model, but old age has taught me that most of the things we find so momentous at the time don’t leave much of a mark on the course of history.

In the heat of battle, we imagine the distant future having been irreversibly shaped by the latest unexpected excitement. A global trade war, for instance. Sorry, a beginner’s error.

Late last year I learnt that, in 1975, “15 leading Australians” had produced a book titled Australia 2025, which examined “the changing face of their country 50 years from now”. It was published by Electrolux, maker of vacuum cleaners.

What a great way to kick off another year of columns, I thought as I asked our library to disinter this gem from the archives. To be honest, I expected it would be great fun. All those fearless predictions about how, by 2025, we’d be flying to work in our spaceships. Or maybe by then computers would mean everyone was working from home.

Wrong. The chapter on the economy was written by someone I dimly remember, BHP’s chief economist at the time, John Brunner. He was far too smart to get caught making fanciful predictions about spaceships or anything else much. He devoted most of his 10 pages to explaining why anything he predicted was likely to be wrong.

He listed all the country’s recent problems, which many more impetuous observers could be tempted to foresee changing our future, while then expressing his doubts. For example, at that time, and still under the Whitlam government, we had a big problem with double-digit inflation. Would this problem be with us for another 50 years?

Brunner recorded all the reasons for thinking it might: “the increasing power of the unions, more generous unemployment benefits, vulnerability of capital-intensive industry to strikes” and “perhaps most potent of all, the commitment of governments to full employment”.

Even so, Brunner doubted it. And he was right. “What?” you say. “We’ve had a problem with high inflation in just the past few years.”

True. But much of the reason we’ve found it so disconcerting is that we’ve become so unused to high inflation. This latest, pandemic-caused surge in prices ended a period of about 30 years in which inflation stayed low, in Australia and all other rich countries.

Why is it so rare for the problem of the moment to be the thing that shapes the next 50 years? Because, as Brunner well understood, when big problems emerge, ordinary businesses and consumers look for ways around them, while governments look for ways to fix them. Action leads inevitably to reaction. And market economies like ours are adept at finding solutions to problems.

Consider Brunner’s list of reasons for predicting eternal high inflation. Powerful unions? Globalisation stopped that. So did the deregulation of wage-fixing. Generous unemployment benefits? Tell that to the Australian Council of Social Service. These days, every sensible person thinks the dole is too low.

As for “the commitment of governments to full employment”, it became a commitment in name only just a few years after Brunner was writing. Overseas economists invented an escape clause they called the “non-accelerating inflation” rate of unemployment, or NAIRU, and naturally, our government and its econocrats jumped at it.

For about the first 30 years after World War II, our rate of unemployment rarely got above 2 per cent. Allow for the workers who happened to be between jobs at any given time and that really was full employment.

But by 1975, inflation was in double digits and the unemployment rate had jumped to 4.6 per cent. The governments of the rich economies dumped the full-employment objective and turned every effort towards getting inflation down.

Thanks mainly to all the extra money the Morrison government spent during the pandemic, our unemployment rate fell to 3.5 per cent early in the Albanese government’s term. As I hope you remember hearing, this was the lowest unemployment had fallen to “in about 50 years”.

Quite accidentally, we’d got back to something like full employment. But get this. If you wonder why the Reserve Bank is so reluctant to cut interest rates, it’s because its battered old NAIRU machine keeps telling it unemployment is still too low.

This brings me to a bit of Brunner wisdom worth repeating 50 years later. “One of the superstitions to which modern man is particularly susceptible is the idea that what comes out of the computer must represent the law and the prophets [the Old Testament].”

“But of course what comes out of a computer depends on what goes into it and if you feed in neo-Malthusian assumptions you will get gloomy answers.” (Thomas Malthus was a notoriously pessimistic English economist from the 18th century.)

Finally, this: “Probably no profession spends more time contemplating the future than the economics profession and yet few are worse equipped for the task. For whatever facility they may have for manipulating economic variables, economists really know very little indeed about what determines economic magnitudes, particularly in the long run.

“The long-term rate of economic growth, for instance, will be determined by a host of political, technological and cultural factors which no economist has any special claims to be able to predict.”

Ah. They don’t make business economists like him any more.

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What's happened to the cost of living is trickier than you think

It’s been a year of wearying in the fight against inflation. But if you think you know what it all proves, you’re probably kidding yourself. The first mistake is to subject it to too much rational analysis.

While voters in Oz complain incessantly about “the cost of living”, the mug punters who put Donald Trump back in the White House were said to be on about “inflation”. Aren’t they the same thing? Well, maybe, maybe not.

A penny dropped for me when I heard some woman in America justify voting for Trump by saying that the prices went up and they never came back down. What? Since when does inflation go away because retail prices have come back down?

Well, only in economics textbooks. In the real world, inflation is the rate of increase in prices, and you fix it not by reducing the level of prices, but by reducing the rate at which they continue rising.

So what was that woman on about? Don’t ask an economist. Ask a psychologist, however, and they’ll tell you that the reason people give you for doing something – buying this house rather than that one; voting for Trump rather than Joe Biden – isn’t necessarily the real reason. Indeed, the person may not actually know why they jumped the way they did.

Their subconscious mind made a snap decision to favour A rather than B and then, when asked why, their conscious mind came up with a reason they thought would sound plausible. The woman’s subconscious may simply have liked the look of Trump rather than Biden. Or maybe a lot of the people she knew were voting for Trump, so she did too.

Biden and his supporters – plus many rational economists – couldn’t see why everyone was so upset about inflation. The rate of inflation had come back a long way, wages were growing solidly and all without unemployment worsening much. Pretty good job, I’d say. What’s the problem?

Ah, said the smarties, you don’t understand that people care far more about inflation than about unemployment. Inflation hits everyone, whereas unemployment affects only a few.

Is that what you think? If so, you’re probably too young to know what happens in a real recession. When unemployment is soaring and the evening news shows pictures of more workers getting the sack every night, believe me, the punters get terribly frightened they may lose their own job.

It’s a Top 40 effect. No matter how few tunes are selling, there’s always one that’s selling a fraction more copies than the others. That’s what’s topping the pops this week. If people aren’t worried about their jobs, they can afford to be worried about high prices. When they are worried about their jobs, they stop banging on about prices.

This means the managers of the economy – and the government of the day – are often in the gun. Whatever dimension of the economy, and people’s lives, isn’t travelling well at the time is what the punters will be complaining about.

But also, it’s worth remembering that whenever pollsters ask Aussies what’s worrying them, “the cost living” always rates highly – even at times when economists can’t see there’s a problem. Why? Ask a psychologist. It’s because retail prices have “salience” – they stick out in the minds of people who shop at the supermarket every week.

The one thing voters know is that prices keep rising. And they’ve never liked it. They don’t like it whether prices are rising by 2 per cent or 10 per cent – and the highly selective consumer price index they carry in their heads always tells them it’s nearer 10 per cent than 2.

Why? Salience. They remember every big price rise indelibly, but soon forget any falls in prices. And get this: in their mental CPI, all the prices that don’t change get a weighting of zero.

When Australian voters complain about the “cost of living” and American voters complain about “inflation”, are they talking about the same thing? Logically, they shouldn’t be, but actually, they are.

To a rational economist, determining what’s happening to the cost of living involves comparing what’s happening to prices on the one hand with what’s happening to wages and other income on the other. Strictly, the comparison should be with after-tax income.

But that’s not how voters in either country see it. They keep prices in one mental box, but wages in another. The pay rises they get are taken for granted as something they’ve earned by their own hard effort. But then, when I got to the supermarket, I discovered the cheating bastards had whacked up all their prices. I’ve been robbed!

Does this mean workers don’t mind if their take-home pay isn’t keeping with prices? Of course not. They feel the loss; they’re just confused about what’s causing it. I think that, for many people, what matters, and sticks in their mind, is how often they run out of money before their next payday.

My theory is that, because wages rose a bit faster than prices for so many years, many people have developed the unconscious habit of spending a little more each year. But when wages stop rising a little faster than prices – as they have done since March 2021 – people do feel it. They look around for someone to blame and the first thing they see is Woolies and Coles.

But there’s one factor causing pain that’s so well concealed that few people – even few economists – have noticed. One reason take-home pay has fallen well behind prices – a reason the unions and Labor thought was a great thing, and the Morrison government was too weak-kneed to stop – was the mandatory rises in employers’ contributions to their workers’ superannuation savings, which have lifted it from 9.5 per cent of your wage in 2021 to 11.5 per cent in July this year, and will take it to 12 per cent in July next year.

To the naked eye, it’s the employers who’re paying for this. But there’s strong evidence that the bosses reduce their ordinary pay rises to fit. If so, this will be a pain wage earners are feeling without knowing who to blame.

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Memo to RBA: If wages growth isn't the problem, what is?

 I can’t help wondering if the Reserve Bank isn’t misreading the economy. And it seems I’m not alone.

When you’re seeking to manage the economy through its ups and downs, it’s critically important to diagnose its problems correctly. If you’ve misread the symptoms, you can make things worse rather than better. Or, for instance, you can single out citizens who had the temerity to borrow heavily to buy their home and subject them to needless punishment.

Last week, several things made me start wondering if the Reserve needs a rethink. The first was a paper by America’s highly regarded Brookings Institution, that I should have got onto in August.

The world’s central banks – including ours – have concluded that this unexpected burst of inflation is explained partly by temporary disruption to the supply of goods caused by the pandemic (and Russia’s attack on Ukraine), and partly by excessive demand following the authorities’ excessive economic stimulus to counter the lockdowns.

Sorry, not true says the Brookings study, which looked at new data.

“The vast majority of the COVID-19 inflation surge is accounted for by supply-linked factors, especially a rise in company [profit] margins that followed severe delivery delays at the height of the pandemic. Demand-linked factors, notably indicators of labour market overheating, play almost no role.

“As a result, the argument that policy stimulus was excessive is weak,” the study says. And, since company profit margins have yet to return to their previous level, this suggests the inflation rate has yet to fall as the effects of the pandemic continue to unwind. If so, the US Federal Reserve may have overtightened.

Now, all that refers to the US economy and may not apply to ours. May not, but I doubt it.

Despite four successive quarters in which the economy’s rate of growth in “aggregate demand” has been very weak, our Reserve is delaying a reduction in interest rates because, it says, the level of demand is still higher than the level of supply. If so, the rate of inflation may not keep falling, or may even start rising.

How does the Reserve know the level of supply is too low? Mainly by looking at the measure of idle capacity in the jobs market – aka the rate of unemployment.

So, when we saw the figures for October last week, and they showed unemployment still stuck at an exceptionally low 4.1 per cent, no higher than it was in January, it wasn’t surprising that many concluded the Reserve wasn’t likely to start cutting the official interest rate until May next year.

But hang on. One good measure of the job market’s ability to supply more labour as required is the “participation rate” – the proportion of the working-age population willing to participate in the paid labour force by either having a job or actively seeking one.

Now, the econocrats have been predicting that the ageing of the population would cause the “part rate” to start falling for at least the past 20 years. But in that time, it has kept going up rather than down, and is now higher than ever. Last week’s figures show it’s risen by a strong 0.5 percentage points to 67.2 per cent over just the past year.

So where’s the evidence the economy’s reached the end of its capacity to supply more workers?

My guess is that all the Reserve’s unaccustomed talk about the level of supply being too low relative to demand is just a way for it to avoid admitting that its judgment about when to start cutting interest rates is still – as it has been for all macroeconomists for the past 40 years – heavily reliant on its calculation of the present NAIRU: the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment”, which is the lowest the unemployment rate can fall before shortages of labour cause wage inflation to start going back up.

I think the Reserve’s reluctance to cut is driven by its (undisclosed) calculation that the NAIRU is well above 4.1 per cent. But earlier this month, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy told a parliamentary committee that, though such calculations are “uncertain”, Treasury estimates that the NAIRU is “around 4.25 per cent, close to the current rate of unemployment”.

Another thing we learnt last week was that a key measure of the rate at which wages are rising, the wage price index, rose by 0.8 per cent during the September quarter, causing the annual rate to fall from 4.1 per cent to 3.5 per cent.

According to Adam Boyton and other economists at the ANZ Bank, this caused the six-month annualised rate of wages growth to be unchanged at 3.2 per cent. “Wages growth has slowed across awards, enterprise bargaining agreements and individual agreements, pointing to a broad-based slowdown,” they said.

This – combined with the lack of increase in the rate of unemployment over the past year, and allowing for the delay before what’s happening to unemployment affects wage rates – has led these economists to conclude the NAIRU is closer to 3.75 per cent.

Finally, Westpac chief economist Dr Luci Ellis noted last week that another measure of wages pressure, the cost of labour per unit (which takes account of changes in the productivity of workers), has fallen from an annualised rate of 7 per cent to 3.5 per cent in just the six months to September.

She said that even if the annual improvement in the productivity of labour averages a touch below 1 per cent, which would be worse than our recent performance, annual wages growth averaging 3.2 per cent – as it has for the past three quarters – is “well and truly consistent with inflation averaging 2.5 per cent or below”.

Get what all this says? Ever since the Reserve began raising interest rates in May 2022, it has worried about the possibility of excessive growth in wages keeping inflation above the Reserve’s target zone. In all that time, and particularly now, it’s shown absolutely no sign of doing so. Neither shortages of labour nor the (much reduced) power of the unions has caused a problem.

The Reserve needs to lose its hang-up about wages and think harder about the need to ease the pain on innocent bystanders.

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How can jobs and joblessness both be going up?

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Despite more than two years of higher interest rates, meant to slow down spending and activity in the economy, unemployment in Australia remains unusually low.

The nation’s chief number-crunchers, the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS), said there were 16,000 more people employed in October, while the number of unemployed climbed by 8000. The unemployment rate stayed at 4.1 per cent for the third month in a row – still very low by the standards of the past 50 years as well as earlier slowdowns.

You might think when employment rises, unemployment has to fall by the same amount – and vice versa. But here’s the thing: they can both rise or fall at the same time.

How is this possible? Because there’s a third factor: the proportion of people who choose to be in the labour force – either by having a job or actively looking for one. If someone is looking for work and doesn’t have any, it means they’re unemployed, but they’re still counted as part of the labour force.

Usually, more people start seeking a job if the economy and the jobs market are both thriving. Why? Because they believe there’s a better chance of finding a job. By the same logic, if the economy is slowing and the jobs market is worsening, people are less likely to even try searching for a job. The labour force can also grow if the population blossoms, but generally, the better the economy and jobs market, the more people will choose to “participate” in the labour force, helping to fatten it up.

So if the Reserve Bank has pumped the brakes on the economy, and consumer spending is still weak, how has the participation rate increased?

Partly, it’s because overall spending in the economy – including spending by the government – is fuelling demand and keeping it above the level the economy can supply without pushing its limited resources, and therefore price pressures. It’s a good thing that people who want a job still have a good chance of finding one, but the relatively low unemployment rate will discourage the bank from starting to cut interest rates too soon.

That’s because a low unemployment rate is one of the signs of an economy running hot, and therefore at risk of facing inflationary pressures. The bank will be worried demand for goods and services hasn’t weakened enough, and that it might even start soaring. That would throw a spanner in the works for their crusade against inflation.

But what exactly is unemployment? It’s measured as the proportion of unemployed people in the labour force. Or, put another way: the proportion of unemployed people out of all the employed and unemployed people in the economy.

Then there’s the participation rate, which we can calculate by looking at all our “working age” people (in Australia, this is everyone over the age of 15 – including those who, really, are probably too old to work) and the proportion who are in the labour force (working or looking for a job). In most other places, working age is defined as those aged 15 to 64.

If more working-age people decide to start looking for work, it’s possible to have both more people unemployed (the jobseekers who don’t find a job) and more people employed (those who do), as well as a higher participation rate: more working age people, well, working – or looking for a job.

We can also look at the split between full-time and part-time workers. If there are more full-time workers, that’s a sign of a strong labour market. A growing share of part-time workers, meanwhile, is usually a warning that the market for labour is weakening. Over the past year, the share of part-time workers has fallen from about 42 per cent to 31 per cent. More people, and a greater proportion, are working full-time than they were a year ago.

Part-time jobs aren’t necessarily worse than full-time jobs. For some people – such as students, semi-retired people and parents of young children – a part-time job aligns perfectly with their life stage or preferences. It’s only a problem for those who want a full-time job but can only find a part-time one.

Anyone who does at least an hour of work every week is counted as employed. That’s been the case for decades and conforms with the international statistics conventions set down by the United Nations' International Labour Organisation in Geneva.

But it does mean we tend to understate the full extent of joblessness. Our measure of unemployment ignores the people who have had to settle for a part-time job when they’d much rather have a full-time job. This is especially the case as part-time employment has risen since the 1960s.

It’s why the bureau has, in recent decades, been calculating the rate of under-employment: the proportion of people in the labour force who have been working, but would have preferred to work more hours a week than they were able to find.

By adding together the underemployment rate and the unemployment rate, we get the underutilisation rate. This gives us a broader measure of unemployment and the health of our labour market. In October, the underutilisation rate was 10.4 per cent: a touch higher than at the same time last year.

How do we know all these numbers? The ABS conducts a monthly survey. It has a very big sample of households across Australia – usually about 26,000 – and someone from each of these households is asked about the labour force status of each person over the age of 15 under their roof.

The survey sample is split into eight groups, with each group staying in the survey for eight months. One group rotates out every month and is replaced by a new group rotating in. The ABS collects the information through trained interviewers who survey households either face to face or over the phone, and sometimes via an online self-completion form, asking about 70 questions.

While these measures aren’t perfect, and can be confusing, they act as a thermometer for our jobs market. There’s no doubt the pulse is weakening, but so far, there’s enough sign of strength to keep most of us from getting worked up.

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How we measure recessions is wrong. There's a better way to do it

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Of all the scary words in economics, recession is probably among the worst. Not just because of the bad times we link it with, but because of the way it’s measured.

What if I told you the way we measure recession is wrong? Or at least that we need to give it a rethink?

The widely used rule for a recession is “two consecutive quarters of negative economic growth”. That means two sets of back-to-back periods (of three months each) where gross domestic product – or GDP: the amount of goods and services that we’re producing and selling – shrinks.

Under that definition, Australia has been in a recession only once since 1991, and that was shortly after the pandemic and its lockdowns hit.

The idea is this: if we’re making and buying less, that must mean we’re having a hard time. And if it happens for six months, that must mean we’re becoming really worse off!

Here’s the thing, though. GDP is already a flawed measure at the best of times. Sure, it can give us an indication of how much we’re pumping out on the assembly line or purchasing at the checkout. But that doesn’t tell us anything about other measures of our wellbeing: environmental damage, our health or education outcomes.

It also doesn’t tell us how growth is shared: an expanding economy doesn’t mean everyone is getting better off. All or most of it could just be flowing to the already well-off.

Right now, as much as a lot of us feel worse off, we’re technically not in a recession. Looking purely at GDP, the Australian economy has managed to tread water.

In the September quarter (and the one before that, and the one before that), GDP grew by a tiny 0.2 per cent – but it was still above zero: close to a recession, but no cigar.

It helps if we split that figure up by population. When we consider the boom in our population over the past couple of years, we have, indeed, gone backwards. For the past year and a half, GDP growth per person has consistently fallen every quarter.

But to better measure and identify recessions, which we tend to see as a signal for economic pain, we should look to the labour market.

Why? Because that’s where most of the impact of a recession is felt: think about job losses and how hard it is to find a job when the economy is tanking, as well as the impact our jobs have on our lives.

Over the past year, our biggest banks have said our strong labour market has helped people muddle through the cost-of-living crisis. We can change our spending habits to keep up with mortgage repayments or work extra hours to keep up with our rent. It’s not fun, but it’s possible.

Lose your job, though, and life is much harder. It can put people under serious financial stress and damage their mental health.

Enter American economist Dr Claudia Sahm. The tool she developed – called the “Sahm rule” – helps to warn when an economy is entering a recession. It has missed the mark only twice in the past 11 US recessions.

The Sahm formula looks at monthly unemployment data to track how quickly the national unemployment rate has risen compared to the past year. Specifically, it compares the current three-month moving average of the national unemployment rate with the lowest value it has hit in the previous 12 months.

If the current rate is at least 0.5 percentage points higher than the lowest point in the previous year, it means we’re in the early stages of a recession. Measures such as the Sahm rule help us identify weaknesses in our economy and the risk of a recession early. That’s because jobs data is more frequently reported than GDP.

Sahm says changes in the labour market are crucial in understanding the state of the economy.

“If you were put on a desert island and could only have one variable to say what’s going on in the US economy, unemployment is the one you want,” she says. “It really says a lot about whether we’re in good times or bad.”

Sahm’s formula came about in 2019 while she was searching for a better way to fight the next recession. “I had just watched for a decade how hard the Great Recession was on families,” she says. “The goal was to have something people could understand that was very simple, easy to track and really accurate. Your best shot at fighting a recession is to move quickly.”

According to Sahm’s rule, Australia has been in the early stages of a recession for at least one month this year (although the Reserve Bank has argued the Sahm rule should be triggered at 0.75 per cent rather than 0.5 per cent).

When developing the rule, Sahm says she knew from the beginning that examining unemployment would be key. “I already knew, just from my work experience, even small increases in the unemployment rate are a bad sign,” she says.

Australia’s labour market has been remarkably resilient, with the most recent unemployment rate in September coming in at a historically low 4.1 per cent. But we’ve been in – or close to – the danger zone for the past few months.

Why does this matter? Getting on the front foot is important, especially for policymakers such as the government and central banks, to limit the fallout from an economic slowdown.

Independent economist Saul Eslake has long believed the common definition of a recession is flawed. He points to the two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth in Australia in 1977: “Nobody thinks that was a recession,” he says.

On the other hand, Australia didn’t see two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth during either the global financial crisis or the tech wreck in the early 2000s. But Eslake says Australia arguably faced minor recessions during both those periods.

His own metric for a recession, like Sahm’s, focuses on the labour market. He says a recession should be when unemployment rises by more than 1.5 percentage points in 12 months.

“The biggest impact of a recession is on those who lose their jobs or take a long time to find them,” he says.

“There’s evidence that people who lose their jobs during a recession, or enter the workforce as school-leavers or university graduates during a recession, take longer than normal to find a job.”

This then has a “scarring” effect. Those who lose their jobs or have difficulty finding one tend to end up earning less over the rest of their working lives.

The better we are at identifying a recession, the better we can be at protecting jobs and longer-term livelihoods.

Of course, it may not be as simple as just monitoring the jobs market. In the US, for example, the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) considers a range of measures beyond GDP – including personal income, employment, wholesale and retail sales – when deciding whether to declare a US recession.

And even Sahm says her rule has limitations, especially as we’ve seen big changes in the supply of labour across many countries.

“This particular economic cycle has challenged simplicity in a way that means these simple rules need some kind of extra check,” she says.

But whether we go with a measure that is simpler than the NBER gauge, more complex than the Sahm rule, or timelier than GDP, it’s clear the focus needs to be more on jobs.

If there’s one job our economic leaders have, it’s to keep us, as much as possible, in ours.

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Get this into your head: we are now short of workers, not jobs

Last week, something strange happened without anyone noticing. We got the best monthly report on the jobs market we’ve ever had, and it was greeted with dismay. The message we’ve yet to get is that, when it comes to the need for jobs, our world has been turned on its head.

Every month, the Australian Bureau of Statistics gives us the latest figures for what’s happening to employment and unemployment, based on a huge sample survey of Australia’s 10.5 million households. The figures we got last week, for September, showed that the number of Australians with jobs increased by more than 64,000 during the month, to 14.5 million. The number of people unemployed – wanting a job, but unable to find one – fell by 9000 to a bit under 620,000.

Why was this the best jobs report we’ve had? Because the proportion of the working-age population with a job reached an all-time high of 64.4 per cent. During September, the number of full-time jobs grew by 51,000, to reach 10 million for the first time. So, more than 80 per cent of the extra jobs were full-time.

If the economy was booming, this strong growth in employment wouldn’t be so surprising. But the Reserve Bank has been applying the interest-rate brakes since May 2022, and the economy’s growth has been very weak for the past year or more.

The only thing that’s been growing strongly is the population – which makes the limited worsening in unemployment all the more surprising.

The new Minister for Employment, Murray Watt, boasted that more than a million extra jobs had been created since the Albanese government came to office in May 2022. “This is the most jobs ever created in a single parliamentary term by any Australian government,” he said immodestly.

So why was last week’s good news greeted with dismay? Because it was taken to mean the Reserve Bank will be in no hurry to start cutting interest rates. You know the media: always look on the dark side of life.

Rates will come down in due course, of course. And with the jobs market holding up as well as it has, it gets ever harder to fear the economy will drop into recession. Silly people judge recession by whether the economy’s production of goods and services – gross domestic product – starts going backwards.

But what makes recessions something to be feared is not what happens to production, but what happens to employers’ demand for workers. To the rate of unemployment, in other words. It’s when people can’t find work that they feel pain even greater than the pain people with big mortgages are feeling at present.

When the pandemic lockdowns ended and people were finally able to get out and spend the money they’d earned, businesses started hiring more workers and unemployment fell sharply. By the end of 2022, the rate of unemployment got down to 3.5 per cent – the lowest it had been in about 50 years.

But here’s the surprise: despite the big rise in interest rates designed to slow the economy and stop prices rising so fast – despite consumer spending becoming so weak – 28 months after the brakes were first applied the rate of unemployment has risen only to 4.1 per cent.

That’s still much lower than we’ve seen during most of the past five decades. After the recessions of the early 1980s and early 1990s, unemployment got up to about 10 per cent. In the 2000s, we got used to a rate that started with a 5.

For about the first 30 years after World War II, our problem was finding enough workers to do all the work needing to be done. Since the mid-1970s, however, we’ve learnt to live with the opposite: not enough jobs for all the people – including married women – wanting to work.

By now it’s become deeply ingrained in our thinking that there can never been enough jobs. Every politician and businessperson knows that, if you want to get your way, you promise to create more jobs.

But here’s the surprising news: the unusually low rates of unemployment we’ve experienced this decade aren’t the temporary product of the ups and downs of the pandemic and its inflationary aftermath. They’re here to stay. That’s why the jobs figures are holding up so well.

The half century in which jobs were always scarce has ended, and we’re back to the opposite problem: not enough workers to do all the work that needs doing.

Why? In five words: the ageing of the population. Because the proportion of people too old to work is growing, while families are having fewer children. Old people don’t stop consuming. They need more spending on services such as healthcare and aged care, which requires more workers.

For years we’ve made up for our low fertility rate by allowing high rates of immigration. And we’ll keep seeking from abroad the many doctors and nurses and aged-care workers we need.

Trouble is, all the rich countries have the same population-ageing problem we do. For different reasons, even China has a big ageing problem. So, the world competition for young skilled workers is likely to get a lot more intense.

But isn’t that a problem off into the future sometime, like climate change? Don’t be so sure – like climate change.

With the high cost of home ownership and a shortage of rental housing, right now we ought to be building a lot more additional housing than we are. What’s the problem? A shortage of skilled workers, with many people who could be building homes off working on the state governments’ big infrastructure projects.

And now that the Albanese government has approved the expansion of many coal mines, this will further reduce the number of skilled workers available to build homes.

A shortage of jobs is no longer our problem. It’s a shortage of workers.

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What goes on in the Reserve Bank's mind

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

So far, the Reserve Bank is winning. Every time we’ve had a new inflation read or jobs data, the country has held its breath … and exhaled a sigh of relief. Things are a little tougher for a lot of people, and a lot harder for some. But inflation, our public enemy number one, is gradually slinking away, and a historically high bunch of us have jobs.

The Reserve Bank might not be high-fiving itself yet, but it’ll be cautiously relieved that things are going (mostly) the way it planned. As the bank gets closer to the finish line, though, the balancing act will get harder. The reserve has been laser-focused on shrinking inflation, which it has. But the labour market is weakening, and there’s a risk we won’t feel or see the full impact on jobs of keeping interest rates on hold until after we’ve gone too far.

What is “too far”? Well, it’s tricky to say, because there’s no exact number to guide us on how many job losses we’d be OK with. And because – until we’ve locked inflation well within the 2 to 3 per cent target range – a strong jobs market is also a sign the economy might be pushing too hard to keep up with demand, and therefore that inflation might be here for a bit longer.

As one of the country’s leading labour economists, Jeff Borland, has pointed out, while recent data points to the Reserve Bank’s success so far, there probably needs to be a turning point in the bank’s thinking soon if we’re to avoid a big round of lay-offs.

Underlying inflation, the measure the bank cares about – and which doesn’t count items with especially large price changes – fell to 3.4 per cent over the year to August. Gross domestic product (a measure of how many goods and services the economy is producing), while crawling along, is still growing. And at 4.1 per cent in August, the unemployment rate shows we’ve managed to hold on to a lot of the gains in our labour market.

Compared with the US, UK and Canada, Australia seems to be the Goldilocks country. Partly because of Australia’s responsiveness to interest rate changes (we have one of the highest shares of mortgage-holders on variable rate loans, which means interest rate changes are felt pretty much immediately), the central bank has been less aggressive in ramping up interest rates to curb inflation.

While the US Federal Reserve jacked up rates by 5.3 percentage points from 2022 to its peak, Australian interest rates rose only 4.3 per cent (that’s also lower than in Canada and the UK). Despite this, the increase in Australia’s inflation rate since the first interest rate rise hasn’t strayed far from its peers. In fact, the 2.7 percentage point increase in inflation since the first rate rise is a lot lower than in the UK, where inflation surged 4.8 percentage points from its first rise.

The downward journey in inflation has also been fairly even across the countries. From its peak, Australia’s inflation rate has fallen about 0.7 percentage points every quarter, the same as in Canada and only a touch slower than the 0.8 percentage points in the US. The UK, with a high inflation peak, has had the fastest decline at 1 percentage point every quarter.

Australia’s approach has also limited damage to the jobs market. While unemployment increased 1.6 percentage points in Canada since the first rate rise and 0.8 percentage points in the US, the UK and Australia have managed to keep the lift in unemployment to just 0.6 percentage points.

At the same time, Australia’s participation rate has climbed 0.7 percentage points – the highest of its peers – since unemployment started rising. The participation rate is the proportion of working-age people (those aged over 16) who either have a job – full-time or part-time – or are actively seeking one (we call all these people “the labour force”) in the wider working-age population.

All this, together with high inflation, signals to the Reserve Bank that the Australian economy is still “running hot” as the Reserve’s chief economist Sarah Hunter has put it.

We tend to focus on the rate at which the economy is growing rather than the level it is sitting at. That’s why, when we see weak figures such as 0.2 per cent GDP growth for the most recent quarter (and for the quarter before that, and the one before that), we hear warning bells ringing about recession: commonly defined as two back-to-back quarters of falling growth.

So, why isn’t the bank in a rush to ease up on interest rates?

For as long as employment is growing and unemployment has risen only a bit, the bank won’t be living in fear, as many of its critics are, that the economy could drop into recession at any moment.

While the movement in GDP and household consumption has been very weak, the levels they’re at are still high – especially when compared with how much production capacity we have in the economy.

A strong labour market (one where most people who want a job can find one), means there’s still a lot of demand from businesses for workers. Why? Because there’s strong demand for their goods or services, and they need people to help produce or provide them. In August, for example, the Australian economy added more than 47,000 jobs.

But there are some signs the labour market is weaker than the headlines might tell us.

Some of the additional jobs and additional hours worked are a result of a big boost in immigration and therefore our population. In August, our population grew by 50,000 – but this growth won’t last forever, especially with the government’s cap on international students.

A lot of the growth in hours has also been in industries such as education, healthcare and social assistance. As Borland points out, about 40 per cent of the extra hours worked in recent months were in these largely government-funded industries – which, once again, cannot last forever.

We also know businesses are likely to be hoarding workers (firms tend to cling onto their workers when the economy starts to slow, until the very last minute, because it can be a pain to rehire them), and that interest rates take up to 12 to 18 months to impact the economy, meaning we may be yet to see the full impact of our rate rises.

Until underlying inflation sits comfortably within the target zone, GDP turns negative, or the jobs market deteriorates more noticeably, the Reserve Bank won’t be in a rush to dust off its bias towards reining in inflation.

But we know job loss has life-altering and long-lasting consequences for those affected. For the bank to keep Australia on the “narrow path” and continue to kill it (its job, that is, not the economy), it might need to start shifting its focus towards keeping us all in our jobs.

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RBA worries too much about expectations of further high inflation

Other central banks have started cutting interest rates, yet our Reserve Bank is declining to join them because, as governor Michele Bullock explained on Friday, it doesn’t expect our rate of inflation to fall back to the mid-point of its target range “in a reasonable timeframe”.

Its latest forecasts don’t see the “underlying” (that is, smoothed) annual inflation rate returning to 3 per cent until the end of next year, and reaching the mid-point of 2.5 per cent until late in 2026.

Clearly, the Reserve doesn’t see such a timeframe as reasonable, so it’s keeping interest rates high for longer, until it can see inflation returning to target much earlier. And, Bullock warns, should the inflation outlook get worse, she won’t hesitate to raise rates further.

Obviously, the longer interest rates stay high, the greater the risk of forcing the economy into recession, with much higher unemployment and business failures, something Bullock swears she wants to avoid.

But what’s the hurry? Why is taking another two years to get inflation down an unreasonable timeframe? (Another question is, what’s so magical about 2.5 per cent? Why would 3 per cent or 3.5 per cent also be unreasonable? But I’ll leave that for another day.)

The hurry comes from central bankers’ longstanding fear that, should the inflation rate stay high for too long, the people who set prices and wages will come to expect that inflation will stay high rather than return to where it used to be.

Why do their expectations matter? Because, many economists believe, when enough people expect inflation to stay high, they act on their expectations and so make them a reality. Workers and their unions demand higher wages, and businesses pass their higher costs on to customers in higher prices.

This is the much-remarked “wage-price spiral”. It’s important to remember, however, that inflation expectations and wage-price spirals aren’t a longstanding tenet of either neoclassical or Keynesian economics.

They’re just a bit of pop psychology some economists came up with to explain why, in the mid-1970s, the developed economies found themselves beset by “stagflation” – both high inflation and high unemployment.

So how much we should worry about inflation expectations is an empirical question: is the idea borne out by the facts and figures?

In 2022, Dr John Bluedorn and colleagues at the International Monetary Fund conducted a study of the historical evidence for wage-price spirals in the developed economies, concluding that a jump in wage growth shouldn’t necessarily be seen as a sign that a wage-price spiral is taking hold.

Bluedorn elaborated on these finding at the Reserve Bank’s annual research conference last September. The discussant for his paper was Iain Ross, former president of the Fair Work Commission and now a member of the Reserve’s board.

Ross (and leading labour market economists, such as Melbourne University’s Professor Jeff Borland) readily agree that Australia experienced a wage-price spiral in the 1970s. But both men conclude that our circumstances 50 years later are “very different”, which means it should be possible to sustain steady wage growth without initiating a wage-price spiral.

In mid-2022, Borland listed three respects in which our present circumstances are different. First, upward pressure on wages is being limited on the supply side by employers’ ability to give extra hours of work to part-time workers who’d prefer more hours, and by drawing more participants into the jobs market.

Second, changes in the “institutional environment” since the 1970s have reduced the scope for people to get wage rises based on the principle of “comparative wage justice” – “Those workers have had a pay rise, so it’s only fair that we get the same.”

And third, a decline in the proportion of workers who are members of a union, and a range of other factors, have reduced workers’ bargaining power, thus limiting the size of wage increases likely to be obtained.

There could hardly be anyone in the country better qualified than Ross to explain how the institutional arrangements governing the way wages are set have changed over the decades. He told the conference that “these changes have been profound and substantially reduce the likelihood of a wage-price spiral”.

The central difference was that, in the 1970s and 1980s, the institutional arrangements facilitated the transmission of wage increases bargained at the enterprise level – usually by unions in the metal trades – to the relevant industry sector and then ultimately to the broader workforce.

There were four important respects in which the present rules are very different. First, the new “modern awards” operate as a minimum safety net and the circumstances in which minimum wages may be adjusted are limited. In effect, there is no scope to adjust minimum award rates to reflect the outcome of collective bargaining at the enterprise level.

Second, the Fair Work Act limits the general adjustment of all modern-award minimum wage rates to one annual wage review conducted by the Fair Work Commission.

Third, enterprise agreements need to be approved by the commission before they acquire legal force. The length of agreements averages three years, during which time employees covered by that agreement can’t lawfully engage in industrial action in pursuit of further wage rises.

Fourth, the sanctions against engaging in such industrial action are, Ross said, “readily accessible and effective”.

Ross noted that the proportion of all workers who are members of a union has fallen dramatically since the 1970s. From a little above 50 per cent, it has fallen to 12.5 per cent. And in the private sector it’s down to 8.2 per cent.

The manufacturing sector and its unions were central to the wage-price spiral of the 1970s. But manufacturing’s share of total employment has fallen from 22 per cent to 6 per cent, while the proportion of union members in manufacturing has fallen from 57 per cent to 10 per cent.

Whereas the annual number of working days lost to industrial disputes was about 800 per 1000 employees during the 1970s, these days it’s next to nothing.

Ross said the present enterprise bargaining arrangements operate as a shock absorber by constraining the bargaining capacity of employees subject to an agreement. “To date there is no evidence of the emergence of a wage-price spiral in the present circumstances and recent data suggests such an outcome is unlikely,” he concluded.

My point is, there’s no reason for the Reserve to live in fear of an imminent worsening in inflation expectations if workers and their unions’ ability to turn their expectations into higher wages is greatly constrained. That being so, we shouldn’t allow impatience to get the inflation rate back to target to worsen the risk we’ll end up in a recession, the depth and length of which could greatly impair our return to full employment.

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There's a good case for cutting interest rates ASAP

What a difference a number makes. For weeks, the money market’s macho men had been telling us interest rates needed to rise yet further to ensure inflation would keep falling. But last week, their case went up in smoke and now almost no one thinks the Reserve Bank board will do anything at its two-day meeting starting today.

The weeks of idle speculation came to an end when finally we saw the consumer price index for the June quarter. It showed underlying inflation falling to 3.9 per cent.

So, sighs of relief all round. But why had we allowed these misguided souls to cause us so much angst? Why had their intimations of death and destruction been given so much air time?

Short answer: because we find bad news more interesting than good news. But as last week’s abrupt turnaround reminds us, the bad news ain’t necessarily so. So maybe we should give a hearing to those urging the Reserve to do something nice rather than nasty.

Let me tell you about a briefing note from the economists at the Australian Council of Social Service, who remind the Reserve that its much-remarked “narrow path” to lower inflation without triggering a recession and high unemployment is narrow “because it’s rare for interest rate hikes of this scale and intensity not to trigger a serious economic downturn”.

The peak welfare organisation says the process of reducing demand and lowering inflation is already well under way and, since increases in official interest rates take up to two years to flow through to inflation and unemployment, it has called for the Reserve to start reducing interest rates immediately.

Those who focus on the slowdown in the fall of the inflation rate and conclude there’s a need for further tightening have failed to see how sharply job opportunities and living standards have fallen, even without a recession.

The council examines the data for the two years since the Reserve began increasing interest rates, from June 2022 to June 2024, and it finds a lot more evidence of downturn and pain than you may realise.

For a start, the number of vacancies for entry-level jobs has declined by almost a third. There are an additional 100,000 people unemployed, and almost as many extra people suffering underemployment (unable to find as many hours of work as they want).

If you know employment is still growing, get this: this has occurred only because of stronger growth in publicly funded jobs (particularly under the National Disability Insurance Scheme). The annual number of publicly funded jobs has grown from 210,000 to 326,000, whereas jobs growth in the market sector has collapsed from 321,000 a year to 6000 a year.

If interest rates stay high, jobs in the market sector are likely to decline, but the present growth in publicly funded jobs won’t last.

We have avoided a recession – an economy that’s getting smaller – so far only because of the surprisingly strong bounce-back in immigration since the reopening of our borders. This won’t continue.

But the real value of goods and services produced per person has been falling, meaning that living standards have been falling. Over the two years, average real income per person has fallen by 8 per cent, or about $5000 a year.

According to the council’s calculations, the stage 3 tax cuts, the energy rebate and increased rent allowance for people on pensions or benefits announced in the May budget will restore only about a fifth of this loss of real income to households.

So the macho men’s fear that the budget measures will add to inflation pressure is laughable. And the council doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind us that JobSeeker unemployment benefits remain a miserly $55 a day.

As for the macho men’s fear that a “price-wage spiral” could take off at any moment, the council says average wages have fallen by 2 per cent since June 2022, after adjusting for inflation.

Wages have started rising a fraction faster than inflation, but it will take many moons to make up that gap. Meanwhile, the collapse in consumer spending has been “precipitous”: a fall of 10 per cent in real spending per person since June 2022.

If the Reserve’s renewed commitment to maintaining full employment is to have any meaning, it will need to start cutting the official interest rate ASAP.

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The RBA has squeezed us like a lemon, but it's still not happy

Let me be the last to tell you the economy has almost ground to a halt and is teetering on the edge of recession. This has happened by design, not accident. But it doesn’t seem to be working properly. So, what happens now? Until we think of something better, more of the same.

Since May 2022, the Reserve Bank has been hard at work “squeezing inflation out of the system”. By increasing the official interest rate 4.25 percentage points in just 18 months, it has produced the sharpest tightening of the interest-rate screws on households with mortgages in at least 30 years.

To be fair, the Reserve’s had a lot of help with the squeezing. The nation’s landlords have used the shortage of rental accommodation to whack up rents.

And the federal government’s played its part. An unannounced decision by the Morrison government not to continue the low- and middle-income tax offset had the effect of increasing many people’s income tax by up to $1500 a year in about July last year. Bracket creep, as well, has been taking a bigger bite out of people’s pay rises.

With this week’s release of the latest “national accounts”, we learnt just how effective the squeeze on households’ budgets has been. The growth in the economy – real gross domestic product – slowed to a microscopic 0.1 per cent in the three months to the end of March, and just 1.1 per cent over the year to March. That compares with growth in a normal year of 2.4 per cent.

This weak growth has occurred at a time when the population has been growing strongly, by 0.5 per cent during the quarter and 2.5 per cent over the year. So, real GDP per person actually fell by 0.4 per cent during the quarter and by 1.3 per cent during the year.

As the Commonwealth Bank’s Gareth Aird puts it, the nation’s economic pie is still expanding modestly, but the average size of the slice of pie that each Australian has received over the past five quarters has progressively shrunk.

But if we return to looking at the whole pie – real GDP – the quarterly changes over the past five quarters show a clear picture of an economy slowing almost to a stop: 0.6 per cent, 0.4 per cent, 0.2 per cent, 0.3 per cent and now 0.1 per cent.

It’s not hard to determine what part of GDP has done the most to cause that slowdown. One component accounts for more than half of total GDP – household consumption spending. Here’s how it’s grown over the past six quarters: 0.8 per cent, 0.2 per cent, 0.5 per cent, 0.0 per cent, 0.3 per cent and 0.4 per cent.

A further sign of how tough households are doing: the part of their disposable income they’ve been able to save each quarter has fallen from 10.8 per cent to 0.9 per cent over the past two years.

So, if the object of the squeeze has been to leave households with a lot less disposable income to spend on other things, it’s been a great success.

The point is, when our demand for goods and services grows faster than the economy’s ability to supply them, businesses take the opportunity to increase their prices – something we hate.

But if we want the authorities to stop prices rising so quickly, they have only one crude way to do so: by raising mortgage interest rates and income tax to limit our ability to keep spending so strongly.

When the demand for their products is much weaker, businesses won’t be game to raise their prices much.

So, is it working? Yes, it is. Over the year to December 2022, consumer prices rose by 7.8 per cent. Since then, however, the rate of inflation has fallen to 3.6 per cent over the year to March.

Now, you may think that 3.6 per cent isn’t all that far above the Reserve’s inflation target of 2 per cent to 3 per cent, so we surely must be close to the point where, with households flat on the floor with their arms twisted up their back, the Reserve is preparing to ease the pain.

But apparently not. It seems to be worried inflation’s got stuck at 3.6 per cent and may not fall much further. In her appearance before a Senate committee this week, Reserve governor Michele Bullock said nothing to encourage the idea that a cut in interest rates was imminent. She even said she’d be willing to raise rates if needed to keep inflation slowing.

It’s suggested the Reserve is worried that we have what economists call a “positive output gap”. That is, the economy’s still supplying more goods and services than it’s capable of continuing to supply, creating a risk that inflation will stay above the target range or even start going back up.

With demand so weak, and so many people writhing in pain, I find this hard to believe. I think it’s just a fancy way of saying the Reserve is worried that employment is still growing and unemployment has risen only a little. Maybe it needs to see more blood on the street before it will believe we’re getting inflation back under control.

If so, we’re running a bigger risk of recession than the Reserve cares to admit. And if interest rates stay high for much longer, I doubt next month’s tax cuts will be sufficient to save us.

Another possibility is that what’s stopping inflation’s return to the target is not continuing strong demand, but problems on the supply side of the economy – problems we’ve neglected to identify, and problems that high interest rates can do nothing to correct.

Problems such as higher world petrol prices and higher insurance premiums caused by increased extreme weather events.

I’d like to see Bullock put up a big sign in the Reserve’s office: “If it’s not coming from demand, interest rates won’t fix it.”

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No one's sure what's happening in the economy

Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy let something slip when he addressed a meeting of business economists last week. He said it was too early to say if the economy was back in a more normal period, “perhaps because no one is quite sure what normal is any more”.

This was especially because “unusual economic outcomes are persisting,” he added.

Actually, anyone in his audience could have said the same thing – but they didn’t, perhaps because they lacked the authority of the “secretary to the Treasury”.

No, standard practice among business economists and others in the money market is to make all predictions with an air of great certainty. Forgive my cynicism, but this may be because their certain opinion changes so often.

Often, it changes because something unexpected has happened in the US economy. Many people working in our money market save themselves research and thinking time by assuming our economy is just a delayed echo of whatever’s happening in America.

If Wall Street has decided that America’s return to a low rate of inflation has been delayed by prices becoming “sticky”, rest assured it won’t be long before our prices are judged to have become sticky as well.

But predicting the next move in either economy has become harder than we’re used to. Kennedy noted in his speech that, in recent years, the global economy, including us, had been buffeted by shared shocks, such as a global pandemic, disruptions to the supply of various goods, and war.

One factor I’d add to that list is the increasing incidence of prices being disrupted by the effects of climate change, particularly extreme weather events, but also our belated realisation that building so many houses on the flood plain of rivers wasn’t such a smart idea.

All these many “shocks” to the economy have knocked it from pillar to post, and stopped it behaving as predictably as it used to. But, as we’ll see, not all the shocks have been adverse.

Right now, the change everyone’s trying to predict is the Reserve Bank’s next move in its official interest rate, which most people hope will be downward.

Normally, that would happen just as soon as the Reserve became confident the inflation rate was on its way down into the 2 to 3 per cent target range. And normally, we could be confident the first downward move would be followed by many more.

But since, like Kennedy, the Reserve is not quite sure what normal is, and Reserve governor Michele Bullock says she expects the return to target to be “bumpy”, it may delay cutting rates until inflation is actually in the target zone.

If so, and remembering that monetary policy, that is, interest rates, affects the economy with a “long and variable lag”, the Reserve will be running the risk that it ends up hitting the economy too hard, and causing a “hard landing” aka a recession, in which the rate of unemployment jumps by a lot more than 1 percentage point.

Kennedy was at pains to point out that the rise in the official interest rate of 4.25 percentage points over 18 months is the “sharpest tightening” of the interest-rate screws since inflation targeting was introduced in the early 1990s.

He also reminded us how much help the Reserve’s had from the Albanese government’s fiscal policy, which has been “tightened at a record pace”. Measured as a proportion of gross domestic product, the budget balance has improved by about 7 percentage points since the pandemic trough. Add the states’ budgets and that becomes 7.5 percentage points.

That’s a part of the story those in the money market are inclined to underrate, if not forget entirely. Kennedy reminded them that, since 2021, our combined federal and state budget balance has improved by more than 5 percentage points of GDP. This compares with the advanced economies’ improvement of only about 1.5 percentage points.

So, has our double, fiscal as well as monetary, tightening had much effect in slowing the growth of demand for goods and services and so reducing inflationary pressure?

Well, Kennedy noted that, over the year to December, households’ consumption spending was essentially flat. And consumer spending per person actually fell by more than 2 per cent.

When you remember that consumer spending accounts for more than half total economic activity, this tells us we’ve had huge success in killing off inflationary pressure. And this week, when we see the national accounts for the March quarter, they’re likely to confirm another quarter of very weak demand.

So, everything’s going as we need it to? Well, no, not quite.

Last week we learnt that, according to the new monthly measure of consumer prices, the annual inflation rate has risen a fraction from 3.4 to 3.6 per cent over the four months to April.

“Oh no. What did I tell you? The inflation rate’s stopped falling because prices are “sticky”. It’s not working. Maybe we need to raise interest rates further. Certainly, we must keep them high for months and months yet, just to be certain sure inflation pressure’s abating.”

Well, maybe, but I doubt it. My guess is that a big reason money market-types are so twitchy about the likely success of our efforts to get inflation back under control is the lack of blood on the streets that we’re used to seeing at times like this.

Why isn’t employment falling? Why isn’t unemployment shooting up? Why are we only just now starting to see news of workers being laid off at this place and that?

It’s true. The rate of unemployment got down to 3.5 per cent and, so far, has risen only to 4.1 per cent. Where’s all the blood? Surely, it means we haven’t tightened hard enough and must keep the pain on for much longer?

But get this. What I suspect is secretly worrying the money market-types, is something Kennedy is pleased and proud about.

“One of the achievements of recent years has been sustained low rates of unemployment,” he said last week. “The unemployment rate has averaged 3.7 per cent over the past two years, compared with 5.5 per cent over the five years prior to the pandemic.”

Our employment growth has been stronger than any major advanced economy over the past two years, he said. Employment has grown, even after accounting for population growth.

And we’ve seen significant improvements for those who typically find it harder to find a job. Youth unemployment is 2.6 percentage points lower than it was immediately before the pandemic.

So, what I suspect the money market’s tough guys see as a sign that we haven’t yet experienced enough pain, the boss of Treasury sees as a respect in which all the shocks that have buffeted us in recent times have left us with an economy that now works better than it used to.

And Kennedy has a message for the Reserve Bank and all its urgers in the money market.

“It is important to lock in as many of the labour market gains as we can from recent years. This involves macroeconomic policy aiming to keep employment near its maximum sustainable level consistent with low and stable inflation,” he said.

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Budget's message: maybe we'll pull off the softest of soft landings

When normal people think about the economy, most think about the trouble they’re having with the cost of living. But when economists think about it, what surprises them is how well the economy’s travelling.

It’s been going through huge ups and downs since COVID arrived in early 2020. By 2022, it was booming and the rate of unemployment had fallen to 3.5 per cent, its lowest in almost 50 years. Meaning we’d returned to full employment for the first time in five decades.

Trouble was, like the other rich economies, prices had begun shooting up. The annual rate of inflation reached a peak of almost 8 per cent by the end of 2022.

The managers of the economy know what to do when the economy’s growing too fast and inflation’s too high. The central bank increases interest rates to squeeze households’ cash flows and discourage them from spending so much.

The Reserve Bank started raising the official “cash” interest rate in May 2022, just before the federal election. It kept on raising rates and, by November last year, had increased the cash rate 13 times, taking it from 0.1 per cent to 4.35 per cent.

While this was happening, Treasurer Jim Chalmers was using his budget – known to economists as “fiscal policy” – to help the Reserve’s “monetary policy” to increase the squeeze on households’ own budgets, reducing their demand for goods and services.

Why? Because, when businesses’ sales are booming, they take the chance to whack up their prices. When their sales aren’t all that brisk, they’re much less keen to try it on.

The government’s tax collections have been growing strongly because many more people had jobs, or moved from part-time to full-time, and because higher inflation meant workers were getting bigger pay rises.

As well, iron ore prices stayed high, meaning our mining companies paid more tax than expected.

Chalmers tried hard to “bank” – avoid spending – all the extra revenue. So, whereas his budget ran a deficit of $32 billion in the year to June 2022, in the following year it switched to a surplus of $22 billion, and in the year that ends next month, 2023-24, he’s expecting another surplus, this time of $9 billion.

So, for the last two years, Chalmers’ budget has been taking more money out of the economy in taxes than it’s been putting back in government spending, thus making it harder for households to keep spending.

Guess what? It’s working. Total spending by consumers hardly increased over the year to December 2023. And the rate of inflation has fallen to 3.6 per cent in the year to March. That’s getting a lot closer to the Reserve’s target of 2 to 3 per cent.

The Reserve’s rate rises have been the biggest and fastest we’ve seen. Wages haven’t risen as fast as prices have and, largely by coincidence, a shortage of rental accommodation has allowed big increases in rents.

And on top of all that you’ve got the budget’s switch from deficits to surpluses. Much of this has been caused by bracket creep – wage rises causing workers to pay a higher average rate of income tax, often because they’ve been pushed into a higher tax bracket.

Bracket creep is usually portrayed as a bad thing, but economists call it “fiscal drag” and think of it as good. It acts as one of the budget’s main “automatic stabilisers”, helping to slow the economy down when it’s growing too quickly and causing higher inflation.

The Reserve keeps saying it wants to get inflation back under control without causing a recession. But put together all these factors squeezing household budgets, and you see why people like me have worried that we might end up with a hard landing.

Which brings us to this week’s budget. The big news is that in the coming financial year the budget is expected swing from this year’s surplus of $9 billion to a deficit of $28 billion.

This is a turnaround of more than $37 billion, equivalent to a big 1.3 per cent of annual gross domestic product. So, whereas for the past two financial years the “stance” of fiscal policy has been “contractionary” (acting to slow the economy), it will now be quite strongly “expansionary” (acting to speed it up).

Some people who should know better have taken this turnaround to have been caused by a massive increase in government spending. They’ve forgotten that by far the biggest cause is the stage 3 tax cuts, which will reduce tax collections by $23 billion a year.

The same people worry that this switch in policy will cause the economy to grow strongly, stop the inflation rate continuing to fall and maybe start it rising again. But I think they’ve forgotten how weak the economy is, how much downward pressure is still in the system, and how long it takes for a change in the stance of policy to turn the economy around.

Treasury’s forecasts say the economy (real GDP) will have grown by only 1.75 per cent in the financial year just ending, will speed up only a little in the coming year and not get back to average growth of about 2.5 per cent until 2026-27.

So, the rate of inflation will continue falling and should be back into the target range by this December. All this would mean that, from its low of 3.5 per cent – which had risen to 4.1 per cent by last month – the rate of unemployment is predicted to go no higher than 4.5 per cent.

That would be lower than the 5.2 per cent it was before the pandemic, and a world away from the peak of about 11 per cent in our last big recession, in the early 1990s.

So maybe, just maybe, we’ll have fixed inflation and achieved the softest of soft landings. Treasury’s forecasting record is far from perfect, to put it politely, but it is looking possible – provided we don’t do something stupid.

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