Cutting HECS debt is not the best way to help young Australians

It may seem an age since the federal election, but the new parliament has just convened for the first time. Anthony Albanese will be giving top priority to enacting his election commitments – “an honest politician? Really?” – and starting with his promise to cut uni graduates’ HECS debt by 20 per cent.

Unsurprisingly, the promise was popular, meaning the Coalition and the Greens won’t want to make themselves unpopular by blocking the cut in the Senate. In any case, the Greens’ policy is to abolish uni fees – a fairyland promise that’s easy to make when you know you’ll never have the numbers to keep it.

But just because a cut in graduates’ debt is popular doesn’t necessarily make it good policy. Is it? No and yes.

HECS – the higher education contribution scheme – now called HECS HELP because some imaginative smarty thought of adding the moniker “higher education loan program”, began life 36 years ago as an eminently fair and sensible way of helping the government afford to provide university education to a much higher proportion of our youth.

Over the years, however, successive governments have stuffed around with it, making it less generous and less sensible. So something needed to be done, but simply cutting the size of graduates’ debts doesn’t really fix the problem.

It’s clear that being provided with a uni education gives a young person a great private benefit: a lifetime of earning a wage usually much higher than most non-graduates earn. So it’s fairer to non-graduates to ask graduates to contribute towards the cost of their education.

It’s also true, however, that those taxpayers who don’t benefit from higher education still benefit from being able to work in an economy alongside more highly skilled workers. This “public benefit” justifies not requiring graduates to pay anything like the full cost of their education.

But the trouble with bringing back uni fees was the risk that it could deter bright kids from poor families from seeking to better themselves. This is where the designer of HECS, Bruce Chapman, an economics professor, came up with a brilliant Australian invention, the “income-contingent loan”, which should be up there with the Hills Hoist and the stump-jump plough.

You don’t pay the tuition fee upfront – the government pays the university on your behalf, and you repay the government. But, unlike any commercial loan you’ll ever get, when you to have start repaying, and the size of your repayment, depend on how much you’re earning. So, in principle, you should never be paying more than you can afford.

You don’t pay interest on the loan, but the outstanding balance is indexed to the rate of inflation – which, to an economist’s way of thinking, means you’re paying a “real” interest rate of zero.

If you never earn enough to be able to repay the loan – say because you become a monk – you never have to pay the loan back. That’s by design, not accident.

Trouble is, successive governments have not only made the scheme less generous, the post-COVID inflation surge has added greatly to people’s HECS debts. Debts have become so big they reduce the size of the home loans banks are willing to give graduates.

Worse, in the name of encouraging young people to take supposedly “job-ready” courses such as teaching, nursing and STEM (science, technology, engineering and maths), in 2021 the Morrison government reduced their annual tuition fees, whereas fees for courses such as business, law and the humanities were greatly increased.

Fortunately, this half-brained scheme did little to change students’ choices, but did mean abandoning the previous arrangement in which the fees for various courses were geared roughly to the size of the salaries those graduates were likely to earn.

The cost of an arts degree is now about $17,000 a year, or a massive $50,000 for the full three years. So it’s people who have studied the humanities who now have debts quite out of whack with their earning ability. Smart move, Scomo!

Albanese’s 20 per cent cut in debt levels will do little to fix this crazy misalignment of fees with future earning potential. The cut will have a cost to the budget of about a huge $16 billion in theory, but more like $11 billion when you allow for all the debts that were never going to be repaid anyway.

By making it a percentage cut rather than a flat dollar amount, too much of the benefit will go to highly paid doctors and lawyers. And, in any case, of all the young adults having trouble with the cost of living in recent years, those on graduate salaries are hardly the most deserving.

On the other hand, at a time when, justifiably, the young feel the system has been stacked against them, I can’t be too disapproving of Albo’s flashy measure to help keep the younger generation’s faith that, in the end, the democratic process will ensure most age groups get a reasonable shake.

The young are right to feel bitter about the way earlier generations have enjoyed the ever-rising value of their homes while allowing the cost of home ownership to become unreachable for an ever-growing proportion of our young. And that’s before you get to other features of our tax and benefits system that favour the old.

Thankfully, the government is making the rules for HECS repayments much less onerous, making them work the same way as the income tax scale. The minimum threshold for repayments will be raised from income of $56,000 a year to $67,000. Your income between $67,000 and $125,000 will require a repayment of 15 per cent, and 17 per cent on income above that.

This will yield significant savings to those with debts. But, of course, the lower your repayments, the longer it will take to clear your debt and the more your outstanding balance will be indexed for inflation.

The government’s changes offer justice of a kind, but the rough and ready kind.

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Our politicians aren't acting their age. That's a good thing

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

If I told you someone, especially a politician, wasn’t acting their age, you might safely assume that’s a bad thing. What childish behaviour have they indulged in this time, you might ask.

But this week, it’s a compliment. The fountain of youth still evades us, and there’s no great anti-ageing commission – AAC, not to be confused with the ACCC – on the way. But the focus in Canberra has switched, at least for a minute, to something that’s flown under the radar for too long.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers on Thursday – at last – said something a lot of us, especially young people, have lived and known well: “there is an element of intergenerational unfairness in our economy”.

The culprit? A three-letter word that sends most of us to sleep, but here it is: tax. No one really likes it, but there’s a collective understanding – served with a hearty side of grumbling – that it’s a necessary part of our economy.

A good tax system, however, is supposed to be fair. And it’s meant to make our country fairer, too.

Tax as it stands now stacks the cards against young people: the very people we need to be supporting to become the backbone of our economy – including hospitals, aged care homes, and schools – as the rest of the country ages.

What’s unfair about our tax system? Didn’t generations before us get put through the same wringer? Well, not really.

If our economy is a board game, the rules have changed. So has the starting point for our newest players.

Young people today graduate from university or TAFE with bigger study debts than their parents had, face house prices more than 16 times the average household income (rather than nine times the average household income 25 years ago) and wages that have only started clawing back losses from inflation in the past year.

To then have a tax system that pulls the ladder out-of-reach of young people is bad – for all of us.

Grattan Institute chief executive Aruna Sathanapally, in a speech last week, put it like this: “Intergenerational equity is not a zero-sum game.”

We may never have it perfect, but it needs to be fair. Who wants to play or work hard in a game where your winnings are constantly whisked away?

But that’s what’s happening. Our tax and spending policies are leading to “unprecedented transfers from younger households to older households”, Sathanapally says.

Analysis from Grattan in 2019 showed a working-age household earning $100,000 would pay about 2½ times as much tax as a household over 65 earning the same amount.

While households over 65 have grown their income, they’ve also been shielded from paying their fair share of tax. That’s thanks to a bunch of policies that have ground down taxes for some types of income but not others.

If you’ve held an asset – such as an investment property – for at least a year, you could sell it and get 50 per cent off the tax you pay on its capital gains. If you bought the property before 1985, you’d pay no tax at all on your (probably very handsome) profit.

And if you’re drawing down on your super, it’s tax-free to withdraw after the age of 60 (after being taxed at a concessional rate of 15 per cent while you’ve been contributing to it).

But most young people don’t own a property they can sell – or even live in – and would have missed out on the windfall gains of the past few decades that have seen house prices shoot through the roof. And withdrawing from super isn’t really an option.

A bulk of young people’s income comes from wages that attract no tax discounts. And as our population ages, our reliance on taxing wages will probably worsen.

Why can’t young people just work their way up to things such as home ownership? Well, it’s a tough ask to save for a deposit when, on top of income tax, young people are paying off huge study loans and facing rents that have risen much faster than inflation or wage growth.

Income taxes have ballooned as a share of our economy – from about 8 per cent of gross domestic product (GDP) in the early 1960s to 14 per cent in the 1980s, and more than 18 per cent in 2023. And while in the 1950s, income from “personal exertion” – or wages – was subject to lower tax rates than income from investments, there’s now no such distinction.

In fact, those who invest in housing can be negatively geared, meaning if they make a loss on their investment property because the rent they earn on it is less than the costs of owning the property (including interest they pay on their mortgage), they can reduce their taxable income. That’s even if the property is quietly growing in value.

At the same time, zoning rules are pushing young people to the edges of our cities, further away from their work and study, and pushing up house prices in leafy suburbs.

The upshot of all this is that young people are having a harder time than older generations – so much so that the generation born in the 1990s, aged between 25 and 34 today, are the first not to enjoy higher incomes than their predecessors.

And according to Grattan, the wealth disparity between older and younger Australians has worsened. In 1994, those aged 65 to 74 had about three times the wealth of those aged 25 to 34. By 2020, that gap had increased to nearly five times.

While not all older Australians are wealthy, it was mostly older, wealthier households that continued saving and spending on discretionary items as inflation and interest rates spiked in the past few years. Younger Australians mostly cut back on spending and drained their savings.

It’s only recently that politicians have paid more attention to the plight of young people. That’s probably because, despite nearly 40 per cent of our population being aged under 40, fewer than 10 per cent of our federal MPs fit that bill.

Independent MP Allegra Spender this week launched her green paper on tax, pointing out that younger Australians were being left behind, unable to grow their financial security in line with other generations. “This creates a society of haves and have-nots, where your family wealth, and access to the bank of mum and dad, is essential to get ahead,” she said.

If we want a society that gives everyone the chance to work hard and get ahead, and move away from a game determined by a roll of the dice on who our parents are and how much wealth they can pass on to us, we need to shake up our tax settings.

It’s been a long time coming, but if our policymakers can step into the shoes of younger Australians and speak for their interests – as they’ve started to do – we’ll all be better off.O

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