We like to hate big businesses but they get one thing right

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

There’s little in our daily lives that drives us up the wall like our supermarkets, airlines and banks.

Just today, my flight from Sydney to Melbourne with one major airline was pulled forward from 8am to 7am – and diabolically communicated to me through a text message at 4.30am while I was fast asleep and pondering this piece in my dreams.

Big businesses are accused – often rightly so – of everything from deceptive pricing to last-minute cancellations and unethical conduct.

So it might come as a whiplash moment to find out they’re getting at least one thing (seemingly) right.

By now you’re probably well aware of the big economic issue of our times: we’re trundling along, making flat whites, digging up coal and flying planes, but we’re not getting much better at doing most of it. We’re barely any faster, thriftier or masterful at going about our business than we were 10 years ago.

A truckload of theories has made the rounds about why – and Treasurer Jim Chalmers will next month hear plenty of them at a round-table fielding policy suggestions that could fix our stubborn productivity problem.

While we’ve tended to look at productivity growth as something that happens gradually and across a broad swath of firms, a report from global management consultancy McKinsey tipped that view on its head.

Looking at 8300 big firms across the US, UK and Germany, the research found productivity growth has generally been turbocharged by a handful of (in this case, fewer than 100) stand-out businesses.

In the US it was household names such as Apple, Amazon and United Airlines. More than three-quarters of productivity growth could be traced back to just 5 per cent of the American businesses they looked at.

These were businesses that made bold moves and were able to dramatically grow the number of customers they were serving and amount of money they were bringing in – without footing as much of a jump in the costs they were paying.

In doing so, they triggered chain reactions – prodding other businesses to respond and lift their game. The growth of digital firms and discounters in the UK retail sector, for example, meant not only did those businesses bring productivity gains, they also pushed other businesses, such as Tesco, to start boosting its online presence.

Big businesses often get big precisely because they’ve found ways to be the most productive.

Now, looking at Australian big businesses, though, you might be scratching your head. Have Qantas and Virgin really been helping productivity growth to take off? And how innovative have Woolworths and Coles been in improving our weekly grocery shopping?

While the McKinsey researchers didn’t look at Australia, we know larger firms do tend to be more productive here as well.

But there are a few important points to note. First, we know Australian industries tend to be more dominated by a handful of firms than industries in the US or UK.

Coles and Woolworths, for example, make up about three-quarters of the supermarket sector, while Qantas and Virgin control about 70 per cent of the aviation industry.

While that’s not totally a bad thing, it gives these companies disproportionate power and can lead to weaker competition, which we know is key to keeping companies on their toes and looking for ways to improve.

Big firms lead a lot of productivity gains but we also have to remember many of the behemoths started off as small firms themselves. In order to kick-start the productivity growth of our existing big businesses, and also usher in young, innovative and groundbreaking firms, we need to do frequent health checks on the level of competition in our economy.

We also know that labour mobility – the ability for workers to move around to better-suited jobs – has been weaker in Australia than it has been in the US.

As former economics professor and Assistant Minister for Productivity Dr Andrew Leigh points out, not all firms are equally productive, and one way of getting productivity growth is by having the most productive firms grow faster than those that are lagging.

In the US, for example, half of the productivity growth identified in McKinsey’s research came from the most productive firms expanding and unproductive firms closing or rethinking their business.

How do we make this happen more in Australia? By making sure it’s easy for people to move to the jobs that best match their skills, and to companies that are best at doing what they do.

That’s a big part of the reason, Leigh says, that the government this year promised to get rid of non-compete clauses – the fine print in many job contracts that make it difficult or impossible to move jobs – for low- and middle-income earners.

Knocking down hurdles for people to move to the jobs where their time and skills are most effectively used is key to driving productivity growth.

And it’s not just about sneaky clauses in job contracts. Another issue – one that stares us right in the face, most days – is housing affordability and the incentives in place for us to stay put, even if our home isn’t the best fit for us.

Our major cities are where many of our best job opportunities are. But with a continued surge in residential property prices across most of our major cities – and less in the way of wage growth – it has become increasingly difficult for people to move to the jobs that are the best fit for them.

That means businesses are missing out on some of their best talent, and people’s skills are not being used in the most productive way they could.

Stamp duty – a tax paid when purchasing a property – also makes this problem worse because it discourages people from moving, even if they have outgrown a place, want to downsize or move closer to their work. It should instead be replaced with a broad-based tax on the value of the land.

While we like to hate big businesses, they do get some things right, especially when it comes to productivity growth. The big challenge is keeping our heavyweights in boot camp by making sure they don’t muscle out newer, nimbler firms.

As I blearily yanked myself out of bed and to the airport this morning, I pondered the productivity costs of our aviation industry. Probably profound, I concluded between yawns. A new, more reliable airline – and one that texts me at reasonable hours – would be a most welcome competitor.

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Oil prices have jumped. Do you need to run to the petrol station?

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Despite our concerted attempts to unstick ourselves from the stuff, oil is still a fossil fuel we can’t function without. That means anytime its price jumps, we notice – and it tends to freak us out.

The first place most of us notice it flowing through is when filling up the tank – or while smugly driving an electric vehicle past the many petrol price signs that punctuate our daily commutes.

If it seems like petrol prices reflect oil price surges more quickly than they do falls, you’re not just imagining it. It’s true we tend to notice price increases more than decreases (a hangover of our instincts to fixate on the tiger in the trees over the nice patch of sunlight glimmering through).

But we also know prices increase faster than they fall in response to sudden changes in costs – such as oil prices – in the petrol market.

The latest oil price scare has come from an intensification of the war in the Middle East. Last week, Israel unexpectedly launched an attack on Iran, a country that produces a lot of oil.

It’s still unclear how badly Iran’s production facilities have actually been hit (and of course, the human cost is the immediate worry). But it was enough to spook the world and cause big surges to flash on market monitors – and probably heart monitors – across the globe.

Petrol is the single biggest weekly expense for most households, and it affects transport and energy costs for nearly all our businesses.

Politically, it’s also a worry. Treasurer Jim Chalmers and Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock have probably only recently started sleeping without the inflation dragon flapping around in their nightmares.

Now, their dreams of slow and steady price growth might become just that again: dreams.

Chalmers has spent the week spruiking his latest plans to boost our living standards – but oil prices have clearly trickled to the front of his mind. This might have consequences for Australians at the petrol bowser, he told ABC Radio on Thursday, but there’s also a lot of concern about what it might mean for inflation, and it’s a “dangerous time” for the global economy.

But how much of a worry should it really be?

Well, first, it’s important to remember just how much we rely on oil.

In 2022-23, oil was our most important type of fuel, making up nearly 40 per cent of Australia’s energy use. That’s not even accounting for the other ways we use it: to produce plastics, chemicals, lubricants and the sticky stuff we use to pave roads.

Petrol is the single biggest weekly expense for most households, and it affects transport and energy costs for nearly all our businesses. Basically, changes in the price of oil ripple through nearly every crevice of the country.

A shortage of oil makes business harder – and in some cases, impossible – to do, strangling the supply of many goods. If Iran decides to shut the Strait of Hormuz – a key shipping route that carries tens of millions of barrels of oil every day – the delays and additional costs of taking longer routes will drive up costs further.

Those costs will probably be passed on through higher prices by businesses – and not just those directly dealing the stuff through petrol pumps.

The price of oil itself is determined, like most things, by the forces of demand and supply. But it’s also affected by expectations of supply and demand.

Most of the time, the physical product doesn’t even change hands. Instead, the market is largely made up of buyers and sellers who enter into “futures” contracts, which are legal agreements to buy or sell something (in this case, oil) at a particular price and time in the future.

It’s a bet of sorts: buyers are hoping the price they lock themselves into will be lower than it will be in the future, and sellers are hoping it will be higher.

When Brent Crude Oil and the US West Texas Intermediate (WTI) – two types of oil futures – surged 13 per cent last week, that reflected worries, not just about a short-term dip in supply, but concerns that the conflict could worsen.

But even so, the oil market hasn’t moved as crazily as we might have expected.

As Dr Adi Imsirovic points out, Iran itself only accounts for about 2 per cent of the world’s oil supply, shipping most of it to China, and while a sudden drop in Iranian oil exports would usually trigger stronger panic, there’s a few factors keeping it in check – for now.

First, Iran is part of a big group of oil exporters known as the Organisation of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), which produces about 40 per cent of the world’s crude oil. OPEC, because of the huge share of oil it produces, tends to co-ordinate the amount of oil its members supply to the world to keep prices from falling through the floor (and profits from slipping too much).

It just so happens that OPEC is in the middle of reversing production cuts it imposed early in the COVID-19 pandemic, leaving it with an unusually large spare capacity of roughly 4 million barrels a day – mostly held by Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates.

And although there are worries about the Strait of Hormuz being closed, Imsirovic says there are alternative supply routes.

That’s not to say we won’t feel anything here in Australia.

The increased risk of wider conflict in the Middle East means oil prices – and especially oil futures – have jumped. And shipping costs have sailed higher, including the cost of insurance for ships travelling through the Strait of Hormuz which has climbed 60 per cent since the start of the war.

We don’t import our oil directly from Iran, buying most of it from countries such as South Korea, the United Arab Emirates and Singapore.

But the cost of petrol in Australia will probably rise over the next few weeks because Australian fuel prices are pegged to international benchmarks.

And because Australia doesn’t exist in a vacuum, the slowdown in economies worldwide – from the uncertainty, higher costs and delays – will undoubtedly have a knock-on effect for our economy.

Slower growth and higher inflation will challenge the Reserve Bank, which next month must decide which way to take the country’s interest rates. If the US central bank’s decision this week is anything to go by, the Reserve Bank will probably keep rates on hold to see how things play out.

The panic in oil markets has seemed to wear off a little since Israel’s attack on Iran, but it will only last so long as the conflict doesn’t escalate.

There’s no crisis in oil markets yet, but your bill at the bowser might come in a little higher over the next few weeks. As long as the global economy is stuck in limbo, don’t be surprised if our economy isn’t running like a well-oiled machine.

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The government can print money, so why can't it keep borrowing

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Every few years, the US government goes into crisis-mode, and not just because of a certain unpredictable president. While it’s always been resolved, the debacle around raising the debt ceiling – how much the government is allowed to borrow – is almost always a dramatic affair.

In theory, it’s a good way of keeping government budgets in check. In practice, it’s mostly a distracting debate that only ends in one way: with an agreement (once again) to lift it because failing to do so would lead to financial turmoil.

Luckily, we only bothered with our own debt ceiling in Australia for a brief period between 2007 when it was introduced by Kevin Rudd, and in 2013 when the Coalition and the Greens struck an unlikely deal to scrap it.

And when it comes to the level of total debt, the Australian government actually has a pretty middling $900 billion – roughly a third of the size of our economy (or gross domestic product, also known as GDP).

Among wealthy countries, debt is expected to reach about $94 trillion, or 85 per cent of the size of their economies. That’s nearly double the share it was in 2008, and nearly as high as it was when we were racking up huge amounts of debt to pay for the Second World War.

That means Australia, right now, is better positioned than most countries when it comes to the money our government owes. This matters because when governments have high levels of debt – especially compared with the size of their economies – it means more money needs to be allocated to interest payments.

That, of course, leaves governments with less cash to splash on other priorities including welfare, healthcare and building. Or, it means they have to keep borrowing, digging a deeper debt problem for themselves.

So, why do governments borrow money in the first place? Why aren’t countries such as Japan (with a debt-to-GDP ratio of 240 per cent) freaking out? And what’s stopping governments – including the Australian government – from just continuing to borrow?

Well, borrowing a bit of money is generally a good thing.

As independent economist Saul Eslake puts it, most households want to pay off their debt at some point in their life so as not to leave debts behind for their children. But it’s a different matter for governments and well-run companies because they don’t (usually) die.

Australia, right now, is better positioned than most countries when it comes to the money our government owes.

In fact, he says funding some infrastructure spending – such as on a new railway, hospital or renewable energy technology – is a reasonable way of making sure future generations contribute something to the cost of creating something they will benefit from, rather than the entire burden falling on the current generation.

Of course, it also depends on what that borrowed money is spent on. Relying on it to pay for day-to-day expenses such as salaries and wages is probably less fruitful than investing it in big projects like a new train line that people can use for years to come.

It also depends on the state of the economy. When growth is weak or receding, there’s a stronger case for the government to borrow money to pump into the economy. But when things are going well and business is booming, borrowing can drive up demand and push up prices.

It’s also less worrying for the government to be borrowing when interest rates are low. When the cost of borrowing starts to creep up, that’s when a big pile of debt can be problematic.

Then, there’s also the question of whether the government is borrowing from within the country, or outside it.

The Japanese government, for example, borrows mostly from its own Bank of Japan, Japanese financial institutions and Japanese citizens. That means, despite its huge debt, it tends to pay lower interest rates because there’s a huge supply of savings within the country and lower transaction costs than if they were to borrow more from overseas. It also takes out loans in its own currency: the Japanese yen. By comparison, only about one third of Australian government debt is held domestically.

Most debt crises, including the infamous Greek debt crisis in 2009, came to a head partly because those countries were borrowing from outside their borders or in currencies that weren’t their own. That left them vulnerable to sudden global movements and also meant they couldn’t just print off money to pay down their debt.

Of course, it’s not really a strategy at all for governments to just print money.

As we saw during the COVID-19 pandemic, a larger supply of money floating around the economy pushed down its price, or value. In other words, printing too much money leads to inflation because everyone’s money becomes less valuable and, therefore, they are less able to buy things.

But back to the Australian government’s debt, which Treasurer Jim Chalmers managed to trim back to 38 per cent of GDP, then 34 per cent, before this year letting it creep back up to 36 per cent.

This year, the federal government has set aside $28 billion towards interest payments. That works out to about $1400 per Australian taxpayer. But it’s also only $3 billion shy of one of our most expensive government programs: Medicare.

There’s no hard and fast rule for how much debt is optimal. And for now, with an AAA credit rating – the best possible mark for a country’s ability to repay its debts – the Australian government can borrow at lower interest rates than many other countries.

If anything, it’s our state governments that have received a warning from one of the world’s biggest ratings agencies that their rating could be dropped to AA if they don’t rein in their spending.

And while Australia’s government debt is far from being at crisis level, it is important to keep in mind that it comes at a cost. We know that printing money comes with its own problems. But higher debt also means the government will have to hike taxes, reduce spending, or a combination of the two, to pay it off.

Losing that AAA rating is not the end of the world for the states or for the federal government. But it does mean our borrowing options will shrink a bit, and the interest costs will pick up.

Our government does most of its borrowing through the Australian Office of Financial Management (AOFM), which sells loans (also known as bonds or bills) on behalf of the government. These loans are then bought mostly by huge asset managers, including pension funds and insurers, hedge funds and central banks, including the Reserve Bank – with some of it bought by non-professional individual investors.

As Eslake points out, some of the big lenders will be barred (by their own rules) from taking on more Australian government debt if our rating is knocked down a notch.

However, pressures on government spending will probably only rise in years to come as the population ages, the energy transition becomes more urgent and housing demands intensify.

While a debt ceiling such as the one in the US is an arguably silly concept, it’s not a bad idea to have a debt-to-GDP target to measure up against.

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I have good news and bad news about your superannuation

When the government wants to cut back the massive tax concessions the rich receive on their superannuation, the media is full of it for weeks. Ask the rich to pay a bit more and there’s hell to pay. But I bet no one’s bothered to tell you of something that’s about to affect the super of every worker in the country.

Why no mention? Because there’s no shootfight. It’s only when people are boxing it out that the media take an interest. And it seems like it’s good news, not bad. Apparently, there are winners, but no losers. Is that possible? Of course not.

The workers think someone else is paying, but that someone else – the bosses – know they’re not. So, no fight, no story.

What is this thing no one thinks we need to be told about? It’s that from the first day of next month, your employer’s compulsory contribution to your super will be increased by 0.5 percentage points to 12 per cent of your wage.

For the past 12 years, the government has been steadily increasing the contribution rate from 9 per cent to 12 per cent, where it will stay. Surely that’s good news? Well, maybe.

On its face, the government is forcing employers to make a greater contribution to the retirement savings of their workers. But if that’s all there is to it, why haven’t businesses been bitching about it unceasingly, warning that it was discouraging them from employing more people and killing the economy? Because business knows it’s not paying the impost.

In theory, there are three things that could follow: the business bears the cost in the form of lower profits, or it passes the cost on to its customers via higher prices, or it passes the cost back to its employees via pay rises which are that much lower than they otherwise would have been.

(Actually, there’s a fourth possibility: a bit each of two or three of the possibilities.)

Economists have long believed that the cost is passed back to the workers. And empirical studies have confirmed this. A study by one of the great experts in this area, the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates, has found that, on average, about 80 per cent of the cost is passed back to employees over the following couple of years. (Which raises an interesting point. Few if any commentators – including me – have thought to point out that some part of the cost-of-living pain working families have felt in the post-COVID period is explained by the government indirectly requiring them to increase their saving for retirement, thus leaving them with less to spend.)

Between July 2021 and today, employees’ super contribution has been increased by 2 per cent of their pre-tax wage. In three weeks’ time, that will increase to 2.5 per cent. Of course, you’ll get that money back, with interest, but not until you retire.

For years, many people have worried that they aren’t saving enough to live comfortably in retirement. And for years, the banks and fund managers that make their living looking after your super fund savings – which they do by taking a seemingly tiny percentage of your accumulated savings each year – have given people an exaggerated impression of the size of the lump sum they’ll need to have on retirement to be comfortable, in the hope that people will add their own contributions to their employer’s contributions, thus adding to the fund managers’ fees.

The worriers should remember this: Compulsory employer contribution started in 1992, at 3 per cent of wages. This was gradually increased to 9 per cent in 2002. As we’ve seen, between 2013 and next month, it will have gradually increased to 12 per cent.

Get it? For older people, the more of their working years that have been in this century, the less cause they have to worry about not having enough. And for younger people, the more of their likely total of 45 years working that are ahead of them, the more the risk of not having enough should be the furthest thing from their minds.

Remember that the less you have in super, the more help you’ll get from the age pension. But the more super you have, the less eligible you’ll be for a part pension. It oughtn’t to be too long before it’s rare for people to retire on a full pension, and common for people to have so much super their eligibility for a pension is wiped out.

The big qualification to all that, however, is whether you own your home. Life can be a lot tougher for those retirees dependent on renting in the private market. Pensioners who rent get some assistance from the government – and more than they used to – but it can still be a struggle.

Remember, too, that it’s easy for a person still working to overestimate how much they’ll need to live comfortably in retirement. They’ll be paying far less, if any, income tax. They won’t be putting money into their super. They won’t have dependent kids.

They’ll go on a few overseas trips – and then they’ll decide they can’t be bothered going on another. The older you get, the less you want to run around doing expensive things. Coates’ research confirms that many retirees end up saving rather than spending all their retirement income.

The more pertinent question is whether some young person who spends all or most of their working years getting annual contributions of 12 per cent will retire with far more than they need to live comfortably – whether they’ll end up living like kings (if they have the energy).

So here’s the bad news: once you accept that workers actually pay for their employer contributions by receiving smaller pay rises over their working years, will they be forced to exchange a lower living standard while they’re working for more money than they want to spend in retirement?

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If bulldusting about productivity was productive, we'd all be rich

It seems the longer we wait for a sign that productivity has stopped flatlining, the more and the sillier the nonsense we have to listen to, brought to us by a media that likes to stand around in the playground shouting “Fight! Fight! Fight!″⁣.

The combatants are led by Canberra’s second-biggest industry, the business lobbyists, unceasing in their rent-seeking on behalf of their employer customers back in the real world. Their job is to portray all the problems businesses encounter as caused by the government, which must therefore lift its game and start shelling out.

In your naivety, you may have imagined that if a business isn’t managing to improve its productivity, that would be a sign its managers weren’t doing their job. But, as the lobbyists have succeeded in persuading all of us, such thinking is quite perverse.

Apparently, productivity is something produced on the cabinet-room table, and those lazy pollies haven’t been churning out enough of it. How? By deciding to cut businesses’ taxes. Isn’t that obvious? Bit weak on economics, are you?

Unfortunately, those economists who could contribute some simple sense to the debate stay silent. The Chris Richardsons and Saul Eslakes have bigger fish to fry, apparently.

The latest in the lobbyists’ efforts to blame anyone but business for poor productivity was their professed alarm at the Fair Work Commission’s decision last week to increase award wages, covering the bottom 20 per cent of workers, by 3.5 per cent, a shocking 1.1 percentage points above the annual rise in the consumer price index of 2.4 per cent.

According to one employer group, this was “well beyond what current economic conditions can safely sustain”. According to another, the increase would hit shops, restaurants, cafes, hospitality and accommodation the worst.

Innes Willox, chief executive mouth for the Australian Industry Group and a leading purveyor of productivity incomprehension, claimed that “by giving insufficient attention to the well-established link between real wages and productivity, this decision will further suppress private sector investment and employment generation at a time our economy can least afford it”.

The least understanding of neoclassical economics shows this thinking is the wrong way round. It’s when the cost of labour gets too high that businesses have greater incentive to invest in labour-saving equipment.

At present, we’re told, business investment spending as a proportion of national income is the lowest it’s been in at least 40 years. If so, it’s a sign that labour costs are too low, not too high.

The other reason firms are motivated to invest in expanding their production capacity is if business is booming. But this is where business risks shooting itself in the foot. Whereas keeping the lid on wages may seem profit-increasing for the individual firm, when all of them do it at the same time, it’s profit-reducing.

Why? Because the economy is circular. Because wages are by far the greatest source of household income. So the more successful employers are in holding down their wage costs, the less their customers have to spend on whatever businesses are selling. If economic growth is weak – as it is – the first place to look for a reason is the strength of wages growth.

Fortunately, however, while sensible economists leave the running to the false prophets of the business lobby, my second favourite website, The Conversation, has given a voice to Professor John Buchanan, of the University of Sydney, an expert on the topic who isn’t afraid to speak truth to business bulldust.

“In Australia, it has long been accepted that – all things being equal – wages should move with both prices and productivity,” he says. “Adjusting them for inflation ensures their real value is maintained. Adjusting them for productivity [improvement] means employees share in rising prosperity associated with society becoming more productive over time.”

In recent times, however, all things ain’t been equal. Depending on how it’s measured, the rate of inflation peaked at 7.8 per cent (using the CPI, which excludes mortgage interest rates) or 9.6 per cent (using the living cost index for employed households, which does include them).

So the Fair Work Commission has cut the real wages of people on award wages by about 4.5 per cent – something the lobby groups somehow forgot to mention. That’s what honest dealers these guys are. If there’s a way to fiddle the figures, they’ll find it.

The supposed real increase of 1.1 per cent in award wages is actually just a reduction in their real fall to about 3.4 per cent. So much for the impossible impost that will send many small businesses to the wall.

The commission has always been into swings and roundabouts. Cut real wages now to get inflation down, then, when things are back to normal, start getting real wages back to where they should be. So we can expect more so-called real increases – each of them no doubt dealing death and destruction to the economy.

Speaking of fiddling the figures, the commission points out a little-recognised inaccuracy in the conventional way of measuring real wages. It says that, if you take into account that prices rise continuously but wages rise only once a year, award wage workers’ overall loss of earnings since July 2021 has been 14.4 per cent.

What the lobbyist witch doctors have been doing is concealing the truth that the best explanation for our weak productivity performance is that employers have been seeking to increase their profits by holding down wage costs, rather than by investing in labour-saving technology.

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Someone's doing the heavy lifting, and it's not the government

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

In the goldmine of numbers unearthed this week, we learned a lot of things. Among them: that gold diggers (not those ones) stepped up while the government stepped back.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers celebrated, declaring like a proud dad that he had deflated the fiscal floaties on our economy. The private sector is now “doing the heavy lifting” he said: in other words, private businesses and households are now swimming rather than sinking.

Now, the gold producers are a bit of a special case. While uncertainty – driven by the volatility in the world at the moment – hurts most businesses, those dishing out gold (or digging it up) tend to do well. Why? Because when people get scared, they gravitate towards gold, driving up its value

Our economic growth – in real gross domestic product (GDP) – came in more sluggish than expected by many economists, at 0.2 per cent. And while the “national accounts” for the March quarter seem to mark a turning point in some ways, they don’t factor in the wrecking ball (also known as Donald Trump) which largely swung into action in April.

Nonetheless, there are some nuggets of hope to sift out from the figures.

First, the government is no longer the star player on the economic pitch. Over the past two years, public spending on everything from infrastructure to electricity bill relief has kept the economy from grinding backwards (sometimes going forward by as little as 0.1 per cent).

That’s not the case any more – or at least, our politicians aren’t propping up the economy to the same degree they have been.

The federal government still spent a bit more in the three months to March than it did in the previous three months. But the growth in its spending was slower, as its outlays on social benefits programs such as Medicare and the National Disability Insurance Scheme dropped.

State governments, meanwhile, actually reduced spending in the first three months of the year, with most winding back energy bill relief as cost of living pressures have eased.

Some of the pullback in spending growth – especially nationally – is probably thanks to the budget’s “automatic stabilisers”: government payments such as unemployment benefits which naturally fall as the economy improves (and rise when the economy is in the doldrums and people are losing their jobs).

But the flat government day-to-day spending and fall in government investment spending (partly due to the completion of projects such as Sydney’s metro) certainly seem to suggest they’ve become happier to sit on the bench and let private businesses and households make more of the runs. This fall in public demand ended up subtracting the most from overall quarterly growth since 2017.

The overall picture is also a bit murky after quarterly growth in the economy slowed to the lowest rate since March last year. And GDP per person – generally a better measure of our living standards than total national GDP – slipped 0.2 per cent in the March quarter.

While it’s welcome news that private businesses and households seem to be regaining some of their gusto, neither were close to shooting the lights out.

Household spending is one of the most hotly anticipated pieces of the puzzle because Australian households' spending accounts for more than half of the country’s GDP. That means what consumers choose to do has an outsized effect on our economy.

Turns out we went more gangbusters on holiday sales last year than economists were expecting, but then decided (perhaps as our New Year’s resolutions) to rein in our spending.

We still splurged on big events including going to see artists such as Billie Eilish. And a warmer-than-expected summer (as well as the pullback in energy bill relief) meant that – whether we liked it or not – we had to splash more cash on keeping ourselves cool. That all contributed to household spending climbing 0.4 per cent.

But when it came to spending that isn’t strictly necessary, our purse strings tightened a bit, suggesting we’re still treading cautiously.

Partly thanks to Donald Trump’s unpredictability spooking us, we decided to squirrel away a bigger chunk of our income – even though we were generally earning more – in the March quarter. In fact, the saving ratio (which measures the proportion of our disposable income we stow away for a rainy day) climbed from 3.9 per cent to 5.2 per cent: the highest it’s been since 2022.

Another factor feeding into that higher saving ratio was Ex-Tropical Cyclone Alfred in Queensland which led to the government (and insurance companies) paying out to those affected – who in turn, ended up stashing a good portion of it away.

Investment by the private sector took the podium when it came to the part of GDP with the strongest growth, rising 0.7 per cent in the March quarter. That was largely thanks to a stronger appetite for investment in dwellings, including building houses and making renovations, perhaps helped along by the first cut to interest rates in nearly four years.

Businesses were also eager to sink money into manufacturing projects and more digging – not just for gold but for other minerals, too – contributing to the growth in private investment.

Net trade – exports minus imports – meanwhile, weighed down our overall growth, wiping 0.1 percentage point from the March quarter. While both imports and exports fell, the drop in exports was bigger. Production and shipments of coal and liquefied natural gas were disrupted by severe weather which, together with subdued growth in the number of international students and less spending per student, drove down Australia’s exports.

The implications of all this data for the Reserve Bank – and thus for all of us – is not immediately clear. The national accounts are always a delayed set of data (a good deal can change in the following three months), and there are signs of both continued weakness and of renewed strength in the economy.

The step back in public spending will probably make it easier for the Reserve Bank to drive forward with another rate cut next month – especially given it was close to slashing rates by 50 basis points at the last meeting, price pressures seem to have faded into the background, and growth is crawling along at snail’s pace.

With unemployment laying low, the inflation dragon tamed, and the private sector stepping up, there are glimmers of hope that Chalmers and the RBA have struck gold in our economic management. Now it’s about safeguarding the spoils by pulling up productivity and getting economic growth well off the ground.

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In one awful decision, Albanese reveals his do-nothing plan

It didn’t take long for us to discover what a triumphantly re-elected Labor government would be like. Would Anthony Albanese stick to the plan he outlined soon after the 2022 election of avoiding controversy during his first term so he could consolidate Labor’s hold on power, then get on with the big reforms in term two? Or would he decide that his policy of giving no offence to powerful interest groups had been so rapturously received by the voters, he’d stick with it in his new term?

Well, now we know. The re-elected government’s first big decision is to extend the life of Woodside Energy’s North West Shelf gas processing plant on the Burrup peninsula in Western Australia for a further 40 years from 2030.

What was it you guys said about your sacred commitment to achieve net zero emissions by 2050? You remember, the commitment that showed you were fair dinkum about combating climate change whereas the Coalition, with its plan to switch to nuclear energy, wasn’t?

So you’re happy for one of the world’s biggest liquified natural gas projects still to be pumping out greenhouse gases in 2070, 20 years after it’s all meant to be over?

Some estimate that the plant will send 4.4 billion tonnes of greenhouse gas emissions into the atmosphere, but that’s OK because nearly all the gas will be exported. We won’t be burning it, our customers will. (Though we don’t quite know how we’ll ensure their emissions worsen their climate but not ours.)

To be fair, had the government failed to extend the project’s licence, Woodside would have been ropeable and the West Australian branch of the Labor Party – which I sometimes suspect is a wholly owned subsidiary of the mining industry, or maybe the mining unions – might have seceded.

But that’s the point. If you want to govern Australia effectively – if you aim to fix our many problems – you have to be prepared to stand up to powerful interest groups. It’s now clear Albanese isn’t prepared to stand up, but still wants to enjoy the spoils of office.

The strange thing is, according to our present law, the environment minister’s power to end Woodside’s franchise stems only from the project’s effect on the environment, not on climate change. But this would have been no impediment to rejecting the continuation.

Other acidic pollution from the gas plant at Karratha has done great damage to the Murujuga rock art, and will do more. And this isn’t just any old bunch of Aboriginal carvings.

It is the most extensive collection of etched rock art in the world. More than a million carvings chart up to 50,000 years of continuous history, showing how the animals, sea level and landscape have changed over a far longer period than since the building of the pyramids.

It has images of what we called the Tasmanian tiger in the Australian mainland’s far north-west. It includes what may be the world’s oldest image of a human face. It even has an image of a tall ship.

How much natural gas would it take to persuade the French to let some company screw around with the 20,000-year-old paintings in the Lascaux Cave? What about the Poms letting miners have a go at Stonehenge?

But that’s not the way we value our ancient carvings. They may be important to First Australians, but the rest of us don’t see them as our heritage, valuable beyond price. The miners want them? Oh, fair enough.

Speaking of price, how valuable is that gas off the coast of WA? To Woodside’s foreign partners – BP, Shell and Chevron – hugely so. To us, not so much. The foreign companies pay only a fraction of their earnings in royalties to the WA government.

They pay as little as possible in company tax and next to nothing under the federal petroleum resource rent tax. In principle, it’s a beautiful tax on the companies’ super profits; in practice, they pay chicken feed. The Albanese government moved early in its first term to fix up the tax. Now the fossil fuel giants are being hit with two feathers, not one.

Ah yes, but what about all the jobs being generated? About 330 of them. Oil and gas are capital-intensive. We’re destroying our Lascaux Cave to save 330 jobs?

But apart from this decision’s effect on the climate and our pre-settler heritage, what does it say about how we’ll be governed over the next three years? Albo must think he’s laughing. His policy of doing as little as possible has received a ringing endorsement from the voters. So much so that the Liberals have been decimated, while the minors promising to act a lot faster on climate – the Greens and the teals – slipped back a bit.

But if I were Albanese, I wouldn’t be quite so certain that another three years of doing as little as possible – of never rocking the boat or frightening the horses – will see him easily re-elected in 2028.

In all the Libs’ agonising over what they must do to attract more votes, old hands are advising them not to become Labor Lite. Good advice. Albo has already bagsed that position.

I suspect that if Albanese wants to be the Labor government you have when you’re not having Labor, he’d better expect a fair bit of buyer’s remorse, starting with Labor’s true believers.

Just because Albo looked better than the scary Peter Dutton doesn’t mean voters opted for a do-nothing government.

Labor did well – and the Libs did badly – because it attracted more female and young voters. We know both groups are strong believers in climate action. Next time, they may decide the Greens and teals are the only politicians left to vote for.

If most voters expect their government to do something about their growing problems, Albo may attract a lot more critics than he bargained for. But admittedly, he will be kept busy shaking hands with the victims of droughts and 500-year floods.

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Let's stop kidding ourselves. Taxes will have to go up

Before the election, the business press was terribly concerned about the decade of budget deficits and ever-rising public debt the Albanese government had clocked up. Something must be done! After the election, however, when the government pressed on with a move to save up to $3 billion a year by making rich men pay more tax on their superannuation, it was appalled. The sky would fall.

What the two contradictory positions have in common was that both are criticisms of a government few of its business readers would have much sympathy for. But the episode also shows the way voters’ attitudes towards the budget abound in wishful thinking – something the pollies encourage. “You want more, but don’t want to pay for it? Sure, I can do that.”

In Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy’s speech to the Australian Business Economists last week, he showed a graph of the budget’s “structural” deficit stretching all the way out to 2035-36. (The structural component of the budget balance is the bit that’s left after you’ve allowed for the effect on the balance of where we happen to be in the business cycle of boom and bust.)

The structural deficit for next financial year is estimated to be 1.5 per cent of gross domestic product. Kennedy noted that spending on the National Disability Insurance Scheme is expected to reach more than our spending on defence. But he reminded us that (thanks mainly to our good friend Mad King Donald) defence spending is likely to grow a lot in coming years.

And that’s just the feds. The combined state and territory budget deficits are likely to be 1.8 per cent of GDP in the financial year just ending – which is 1.5 percentage points higher than their pre-pandemic long-run average, Kennedy said.

So the states have been really going at it, with their combined debt at the end of this month expected to reach 18.9 per cent of GDP, its highest in the 30-plus years they’ve had control over their own finances.

And yet politicians, federal and state, persist in running election campaigns where they promise bigger and better spending on this, that and the other, without any mention of how it will have to be paid for.

Worse, no matter how much they’ve promised, the Liberals always claim that their taxes will be lower than Labor’s, without this having any effect on their spending on “essential services”. (Perhaps this boils down to a promise not to rely on bracket creep – the “secret tax of inflation” – quite as much as Labor does.)

What the pollies never tell us is that, if you want it, it will cost you. But one woman who is game to tell us what the politicians aren’t is Aruna Sathanapally, boss of the Grattan Institute. In a speech a year ago she told the unvarnished truth: our governments are “not raising enough revenue for what we spend”.

No one wants to pay more tax. And the richest of us protest more and fight hardest when asked to cough up a little more. I meet people who tell me we’re already overtaxed.

Nonsense. “We are a relatively low-tax country with high service expectations. Pre-COVID, Australia was eighth-lowest ranked country in the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development for tax collections relative to our country’s size, five percentage points lower than the OECD average,” Sathanapally says.

“Yet, Australians expect high-quality healthcare, aged care, and disability care, among many other things. Like other rich nations, government spending has grown as a share of the economy, particularly in recent decades.

“But our tax base is going in the opposite direction: narrowing as the population ages with the growing cost of tax concessions.

“This leaves a structural gap,” Sathanapally says. “You can tackle the structural problem by reducing spending, increasing revenue, and by growing the economy.

“Growing the economy is the easiest solution to sell, but it is the hardest to achieve in practice. Australia, like other advanced economies, is expecting slower economic growth over the next 40 years than we’ve had over the past 40 years. Even if productivity growth exceeds expectations, it is still unlikely to close the structural gap.

“As a relatively low-tax country, we can afford to raise more revenue, but of course there are better and worse ways to do this. Broadening the tax base and reducing tax concessions tend to be much less economically damaging than simply raising the headline rates of tax.

“Australia’s tax mix asks workers and companies to shoulder most of the burden, while offering substantial concessions for wealth. Wealth in housing and superannuation gets particularly generous treatment.”

“Take superannuation tax breaks for example. They cost the budget almost $45 billion a year and are projected to cost more than the age pension by 2036. These tax breaks predominantly benefit the top 20 per cent of income earners, so they do little to actually reduce age pension spending.

“Meanwhile the combination of capital gains tax breaks and negative gearing encourages speculation in the housing market in place of other more productive uses of funds,” she says.

We know how hard politically governments find it to fix these problems, “but frankly, we are sitting on a wretched generational bargain, and it has gone on for long enough.

“Young people today already face the prospect of weaker wage growth, higher hurdles to owning a home [or more likely, a lifetime of renting] and a future shaped increasingly by extreme weather and natural disasters.

“Yet, we ask our young people – our children and grandchildren – to contribute more towards supporting older generations than our older generations ever contributed when they were of working age,” she concluded.

Phew. It’s not often people in public life say things of so frank, so honest, so disinterested good sense that I want to quote them at such length.

Next, why doesn’t the business press write a desk-thumping editorial explaining how Sathanapally got it all so badly wrong.

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Australia can't just let Trump do what he wants

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Donald Trump doesn’t like taking no for an answer. So really it comes as no surprise that, within minutes of three American judges blocking his tariffs from taking effect this week, he hit back with an appeal and questioned their authority.

It’s reassuring that the Court of International Trade took a stand. The judges stopped short of passing judgment on the effectiveness or wisdom of tariffs, but ruled the president couldn’t just use emergency powers in an (apparent) bid to protect the US economy. That power, it reminded Trump, actually rests with the Congress. The situation remains fluid, though; overnight a federal appeals court agreed to temporarily preserve the tariffs while the appeal is urgently held.

Nonetheless it’s probably a bit awkward for Trump, given his No.1 rival – Chinese President Xi Jinping – won’t have the same constraints on his power. Whether Xi pushes forward with tariffs on the US is unclear (he also has a lot to lose from imposing tariffs) but he may want to seize the opportunity to rub the mud in Trump’s face at a time when the US president can’t fight back.

But whether or not the court’s finding withstands the appeal, Trump has (and will continue to) hurt businesses and customers worldwide – including here in Australia. Why? Because some of the damage has already been done.

In a speech at an Australian Business Economists’ event in Sydney this week, Treasury Secretary Dr Steven Kennedy assessed some of the rubble.

First, he says markets have experienced unusually high levels of volatility. Investors have faced whiplash as Trump followed up his extensive list of tariffs on countries (including tiny islands – some inhabited only by penguins) with a 90-day pause on tariffs, before escalating his trade war with China.

While market movements may not matter hugely on their own, they’re a sign of how rattled people are, and how uncertain the future is. Uncertainty deters business owners from investing and customers from buying because most people are not adrenaline junkies who want to sink money into things during periods of turbulence.

That slows down economic growth – and it can take ages for people to feel like it’s safe enough to spend.

But there’s also a chance Trump’s tariffs will be waved through on appeal, further worsening worldwide economic growth. As Kennedy points out, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) recently slashed its forecast for global economic growth from 3.3 per cent to 2.8 per cent this year.

While its forecasts for the Chinese and US economies both took an especially large hit (the tariff escalation is most intense between these two, after all), it’s actually China, not the US, that will have a bigger knock-on effect on other countries if the trade war continues.

“Outside of the years affected by COVID-19, China has contributed more to world growth than the G7 since 2006, and more than the US since 2001,” Kennedy says.

Australia, which does a third of its trade with China, would, of course, be especially vulnerable. Less growth in China, and thus less demand for Australia’s exports (things such as iron ore, beef and coal) from our biggest trading partner, would weaken domestic growth. That’s on top of the dampening effect of uncertainty on Australian household spending and business investment spending.

A weaker Australian economy would mean less hiring by businesses, fewer Australians holding down jobs, and slower wage growth.

One glimmer of hope is that price increases would probably slow a little. Wouldn’t tariffs wreak havoc on supply chains and push up inflation? Well, probably. But Kennedy says that’s likely to be offset by more low-cost output from China making its way to us as its trade is redirected from the US.

Since Australia trades very little with the US, Trump’s tariffs on Australia – if they resumed – wouldn’t be a huge worry. “The indirect impact [of tariffs] is nearly four times as large as the direct effect,” Kennedy says.

So, what can we do? Well, Australia’s decision not to hit back with our own tariffs is a good start. There’s very little point in stoking Trump’s ire when we have little to gain (and plenty to lose) from imposing tariffs. The main effect would be to make American imports costlier for Australians, which would just end up hurting our hip pocket.

Another thing we can do is make the most of the chaos by positioning ourselves as a safe, stable and attractive place to invest in as people pull their money out of the US. A “pick me” strategy? Perhaps, but it’s a good idea.

The Trump administration has made it clear that it wants to reshape the economic order and kick China down a few rungs. US imports from China have fallen steadily from their peak of about one-fifth of total imports in 2017 during Trump’s first term to just over one-tenth in 2024.

But Trump has also made it obvious he doesn’t care who he hurts in doing so.

Kennedy says Australians will have to adjust to this reality through policy changes.

While the US seems to be raising its walls (after failing to build a physical one on its southern border some years ago) and trying to become more self-reliant, Kennedy says following the same strategy is a mistake for smaller countries including Australia that benefit greatly from trade.

“It is not in our self-interest to respond by also raising barriers,” he says. Instead, we should be going the opposite way: removing barriers to trade, and turning to a wider array of trade partners.

Kennedy points to the Australian government’s renewed negotiations with the European Union on a free trade agreement, and efforts to expand existing compacts such as the Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership – both of which make it easier to trade.

Striking new trade agreements and looking to our neighbours, too, in countries such as Indonesia and India will be hugely beneficial, especially as these countries continue to grow and themselves look for reliable trade partners outside the US.

As Kennedy says, we’re facing more than the usual degree of uncertainty, but it may be time to stop saying that and accept that, for the foreseeable future, the world will be characterised by it. While Australia is caught in the crosshairs of a fight it didn’t start – or want to participate in – we don’t have to let Trump’s unpredictability take our economy off track.

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Don't let rich old men tell you the planned super tax is terribly bad

Would you want Australia to become more like America? How on Earth did so many Yanks vote to reinstall a crazy, destructive leader such as Mad King Donald? If we don’t want to become more like them, it’s worth thinking about how it happened, so we know what not to do.

Americans brought Trump back for two main reasons. First, extreme partisanship. Many registered Republicans voted for him because, no matter how bad he was, he couldn’t possibly be as bad as a Democrat president would be. But second, I suspect many Americans voted for him because they’d become so disenchanted with the way the country was run, felt so mistreated and estranged from the rest of America, that they wanted to give the system a big kick up the backside.

It wouldn’t do any good; Trump was no more to be trusted than any other politician, but it would make the outcasts feel a bit better.

I worry that if we go on the way we have been, we could end up with a section of our own community that was so peed off it wanted to kick against the pricks (excuse my language; not all politicians deserve that description). And it’s a mighty big section to have on the outer – the young. Everywhere they look, the young feel discriminated against.

Most of the older generation bought homes when they were affordable, but now they’re unaffordable. At work, they get paid much less than most older workers. And while their parents paid nothing for their tertiary education, they’re hit with huge HECS debts.

The young are right to feel ill-treated. Our system of tax and welfare benefits is biased in favour of the elderly and against the young.

Many people on the age pension benefit only to the extent that their paid-off home is ignored in means testing. Many self-proclaimed “self-funded retirees”, however, are doing very well for themselves.

It’s possible for a young family on, say, $150,000 a year, to be paying a lot of income tax, while a well-off retired couple on the same income pays very little.

The Albanese government is already facing annual budget deficits for at least the next decade, adding to the annual interest bill on our growing public debt. If we’re going to be spending more on defence and many other things, it will have to raise more in taxes.

How? Well, the nation’s chief executives in the Business Council of Australia helpfully suggest an increase in the GST. But it would be fairer if the government started by reducing the tax concessions and loopholes used mainly by the well-off.

And that brings us to the massive tax concessions attached to superannuation, which cost the government almost $50 billion a year in lost revenue. The concessions are worth far more per dollar saved to high income-earners than lower earners.

But they also favour the old rather than the young. The old earn more than the young, find it easier to save, and get the benefit from super sooner than the young. That’s why, in the government’s efforts to collect more tax, fixing the super concessions is a good way to reduce the tax system’s bias against the young.

Two-thirds of the value of super tax concessions go to the top 20 per cent of income earners. The concessions are intended to ensure people have enough income to live comfortably in retirement, but a fifth of withdrawals from super go as bequests to the superannuant’s children.

Treasury estimates that the share of withdrawals going as bequests will rise to a third by 2060. In other words, the concessions are so great that super has become a taxpayer-subsidised inheritance scheme. Meanwhile, other taxes must be higher to cover the cost of this inheritance scheme.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers intends to press on with a super tax measure he announced two years ago, but hasn’t yet been passed by the Senate. The plan is to increase the tax rate on super annual earnings for balances exceeding $3 million from 15 per cent to 30 per cent. The tax would apply only to the amount above $3 million.

The change will affect just the top 0.5 per cent of people with super – only about 80,000 people (including me). It would save the government more than $2 billion a year.

But the people affected by the change – mainly rich men – have put up an almighty resistance, portraying the measure as utterly iniquitous and – would you believe – unfair to the younger generation. “I’m not opposing this for myself ...”

However, the proposal has had strong support from the Australian Council of Social Service and the Grattan Institute.

The claim that the proposal would harm the young rests on the government’s intention not to index the $3 million threshold. If you left it unchanged forever, inflation would eventually cause the higher tax to apply to all the young.

Sorry, this is fanciful. There will be plenty of time to raise the threshold before then. Meanwhile, it will just apply to more, but slightly less-rich, old men (and a very few rich old women).

The other claim is that the extra tax would apply not just to interest and dividend income but also unrealised capital gains. This is true, but not as iniquitous as the protesters claim. It will mainly affect self-managed super funds.

It’s a messy way to tax earnings, but it’s difficult to avoid administratively because the existing 15 per cent tax on earnings is imposed on the fund, not its individual members.

Taxing capital gains that haven’t yet been realised may mean the tax has to be covered by money taken from elsewhere, but most people this well-off have plenty of money outside their super funds.

So, don’t believe it. These rich people just don’t want to pay more tax, and, as usual, are hunting around for the best counter-arguments they can find. I can afford to pay it, and so can they.

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Why we need our economists to try a lot harder

I noticed in The Psychologist magazine one of that profession’s old hands advising newbies to “think outside the box and question everything”. What? With economists, such heretical advice would be unthinkable.

In their profession, all the advice is to learn the orthodoxy and never question it. Why? Because it’s the revealed truth.

The weird thing is, the great project for academic economists since the 1960s has been to make their discipline more scientific. Within their universities, economists get looked down on by the physical scientists, and they hate it.

They hate being regarded as one of the soft “social” sciences, such as psychology, or worse, those lefty lightweight sociologists. So for decades they’ve been working to make their discipline more “rigorous”. How? By expressing ideas about how the economy works in equations, not mere words.

Trouble is, there’s more to science than maths. The hallmark of a scientist is that they’re searching for the truth. They have a theory about how something works, but they’re beavering away to improve it, get it a bit closer to the truth. So their best guess at the truth is slowly evolving and is significantly different today than what it was 50 years ago.

That’s a million miles from academic economics. With most economists – practising as well as academic – their view of how the world works is virtually unchanged from one decade to the next. They’ve already found the truth, so nothing needs changing.

What do you call it when you know the unchanging truth? A religion. Economics is a secular religion, but a religion nonetheless. And when you know the truth, all that’s left to do is convince the rest of the world of its truth.

It’s true that a minority of leading academic economists have been working on new ideas about how the economy works. The annual Nobel Prize in “economic sciences” – which is sponsored by the Swedish central bank – is awarded to academics (not all of them economists) who have important new thoughts on economic questions.

Most of the new discoveries acknowledged by the award of a Nobel Prize – such as about the role of information – are attempts to learn more about aspects of the economy’s workings that are oversimplified or simply assumed away in the “neoclassical” model of markets and the economy that was set in concrete by the late 19th century, but which still dominates economists’ thinking about the economy.

Trouble is, apart from some modifications arising from the work of John Maynard Keynes and his followers after the failure of conventional economics at the time of the Great Depression, few of these advances in thinking get incorporated into the model all economists carry in their heads, nor the mathematical models that academic economists spend so much of their time playing with.

Why not? Because if you want to express economic ideas in equations rather than words, you have to keep it simple. There’s little room for complications or nuance in econometric models.

This is particularly true of the findings of behavioural economics, which uses social psychology to test the assumptions of neoclassical economics – such as that all of us always act rationally, and that we’re rugged individualists, whose decisions are never influenced by what other people are doing. Almost always, behavioural economics finds those assumptions grossly oversimplified at best.

The great test of any model is the accuracy of the predictions it makes about what will happen next. Even the most sophisticated models’ forecasts are often wrong and, not infrequently, seriously wrong. Every economist knows this, but desperately tries not to think about it.

The forecasts in the federal budget, for example, which are given great attention on budget night are quite unreliable, but nobody does anything about it. The Reserve Bank went year after year predicting that wages would grow far more than they actually did.

Clearly, the Reserve may know a lot about money, but its understanding of how the labour market works is woeful – something I’m not sure its boffins admit even to themselves. To them, the labour market works the same simple way every market works.

Their basic mistake comes from the neoclassical model’s implicit assumption that both parties to every economic transaction have roughly equal bargaining power. A boss bargaining with an individual worker? No probs.

The point is, rather than the mathematising of economics making the discipline more rigorous, it’s diverted the profession’s attention from what it really should be doing: being like a scientist and working to fix their model’s oversimplifications and dubious assumptions, in the hope this will make its predictions more reliable.

With the cost-of-living crisis coming to an end as the inflation rate returns to the 2 to 3 per cent target range, and interest rates falling back to more normal levels, the government can turn its attention to a problem we – and all the rich economies – have had for a decade or so: only slow improvement in the productivity of businesses and government providers of services.

Right, so what can economists tell us about productivity? Short answer: not all that much. What they do know is that improving productivity – increasing output faster than you increase inputs of raw materials, labour and physical capital – is the main way capitalist economies have been able to improve their material standard of living over the decades.

They’ve also figured out that most productivity improvement comes from the application of advances in technology, particularly labour-saving equipment. So spending on research and development should help. A better educated and trained workforce probably helps ,too.

So, what else can our learned economists tell us about productivity – how it works and how we can get more of it?

Not much. If productivity’s so important to our standard of living, you’d think economists would have put an enormous research effort into learning more and more about where productivity comes from and how we get more of it.

Sorry, we’ve been too busy with our maths and our modelling. Economists are great believers in innovation. They’d like to see a lot more of it. But they don’t practise what they preach. In academia, all the pressure is to stick to the orthodoxy. New ideas are usually wrong.

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Working less could be the answer to one of our biggest problems

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Inflation has been the talk of the town for the past few years, but now that it’s paled enough for interest rates to start coming down, it’s the dreaded ‘P’ word – and our seeming lack of progress on it – that’s resurfacing as a threat to our living standards.

Still, there’s only a handful of people who are noticing it and like talking about it: among them, the Productivity Commission, which couldn’t ignore the issue even if it wanted to.

But if it’s such a huge deal, why don’t most people care? Probably because it’s not easily seen or measured.

Plenty of headlines have lamented our failed attempts at boosting productivity (a supposed need to work harder?). Apparently we’ve been suffering from a decade of it – and it matters because more than 80 per cent of our real income growth (income adjusted for inflation) over the past three decades has been thanks to how much more productive we’ve become.

But measuring how much better we’ve become at making things and providing services with the same amount of workers and time is hard – especially if you can’t put a dollar figure on the outcome.

It’s fairly straightforward, for example, to measure how many more bananas or cows we’re pumping out. But what about the quality of those bananas and cows? How do we put a figure on how much better quality those products are? Even worse: how do we measure how much better we’ve become at providing services like healthcare? Is a surgeon rushing through more surgeries always a better outcome?

Because of this, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where – and how much – we’re going wrong.

And at an individual level, there’s not a lot we can do.

The biggest leaps in productivity – pumping out more or better-quality things with the same amount of resources (like workers and time) – have come from technological developments like the invention and spread of the internet, electricity or the steam engine.

Sure, a handful of individual geniuses helped bring these things to life, but a majority of workers are limited in their ability to do things more efficiently, often by the tools, rules and conditions they’re forced to work with.

One suggestion made by the productivity boffins in their latest push (triggered by Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ request for reform recommendations) in the economy-wide brainstorm on how to overcome the productivity road block, is shaking up the way companies are taxed.

Specifically, the commission is looking at ways to prod businesses to invest more (something that has been lacking in Australia for quite a few years). Specifically, it will consider tax incentives for businesses to spend on things like better equipment, tools and technology – things which help workers to save time and produce more or better things without having to work harder.

A barista, for example, who doesn’t have to share a machine with their colleague, may be able to serve more coffees, and an accountant with access to better software provided by their company may be able to slash the time it takes to crunch numbers for their clients.

Cutting the 30 per cent corporate tax rate (an option currently on the table according to Productivity Commission boss Danielle Wood), though, is probably not a good move unless there’s a way to guarantee those big businesses won’t just pocket the extra profit or pay it out to shareholders.

It’s probably also bad news if it gives big companies – which already dominate many sectors of the economy – more power, making it difficult for small and medium-sized businesses to challenge them and drive innovation.

However, tax breaks for new investment which, in theory, should encourage firms to invest, seem less effective in Australia compared with many other countries, according to the Reserve Bank.

While big businesses might be keen for such changes, they probably don’t provide bang for our buck, and they come at a cost to the government’s budget.

This makes it more difficult to achieve some of the commission’s other reform priorities such as improving school student outcomes and upskilling the workforce. The better-educated we are, and the more we’re able to build on our skills, the better we become at doing things.

Under-resourcing of schools has been a well-documented issue – and probably a key factor behind Australia’s lagging performance academically. It’s also something the government will struggle to improve if its budget is tight.

Cutting red tape is another area of reform being examined by the commission. This is a good thing – especially when it comes to the net-zero transformation. It’s clear that climate change and the increased prevalence of natural disasters will hamper our ability to work. And without making it easier for Australian businesses to transition to cleaner energy, we’ll be left behind in the global shift, and fail to act on a hugely promising area of growth.

Speeding up approvals for new energy infrastructure is a good example from the commission of how we can improve productivity. Instead of being bogged down by lengthy approval times, businesses can get on with investing in transformative projects aimed at harnessing some of our natural gifts: sunlight, wind, and other cleaner forms of energy.

And while they are just lofty aims for now, other focus areas including supporting government investment in preventing health problems (rather than waiting to treat them after they arise) and improving our uptake of digital technologies, should make us more productive by ensuring a healthy workforce and helping us harness the power of developments such as artificial intelligence.

But these are all things we’ve known for some time.

It’s also about bosses and government departments listening to the lesser – but consequential – suggestions made by their employees.

If you ask any worker what the most time-consuming and unnecessary parts of their job are, they’ll almost always have an answer. Most teachers, for example, point to the growing and excessive administrative work they’re required to do which reduces their ability to do what matters for students – and what will actually affect students’ outcomes.

Yet, at company and department level, there’s usually little to no engagement with employees about what they think could be done better – and even when there is, a dismal amount is actually done about it.

A key determinant of the Productivity Commission’s success in improving productivity will be to compel top decision makers and bosses to act on all of these reform ideas. Paradoxically, legislating a shorter working week seems radical, but – as with the laws which brought in the eight-hour working day – could boost productivity.

There have been multiple studies showing shorter work hours improve workers’ wellbeing, focus and efficiency. Having less time to get things done often pushes us to lock in and get more done in a shorter amount of time.

And if this isn’t the case, shorter work hours will push bosses to implement the productivity-boosting changes required to support their workers to work more efficiently and improve productivity in the longer term.

Productivity growth isn’t always about our need for incessant growth in material things. It’s just as much about making our lives easier by giving ourselves the tools and conditions to help us work less for the same outcomes.

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After 50 years, we're back to the glory days of full employment

I promise I’ll stop talking about the surprising election result if you let me make one last point. There was a hidden factor that helps explain why Labor did so well despite all our grumbling about the cost-of-living crisis.

It’s a factor for which the Morrison government, the Albanese government and even the Reserve Bank deserve more thanks than they’ve received. A factor without which it’s highly likely Labor would have been tossed out.

Long before most of us were born – even I am only just old enough to remember it – Australia enjoyed something called “full employment”. In the years between the end of World War II in 1945 and the early 1970s, the rate of unemployment rarely got above 2 per cent of the labour force.

When it did rise above 2 per cent for some months, it was called a recession. For the long period in which it was rarely above 2 per cent, it was called “full employment”.

Full employment has never meant an unemployment rate of zero. Why not? Because at any time there will always be many thousands of workers moving from one job to the next, and education leavers taking a month or so to find their first proper job. So, that’s nothing to worry about.

But the unemployment rate started edging up from the beginning of the 1970s, and by the time the Whitlam government was dismissed in November 1975, it had reached 5.4 per cent. For reasons far more complicated than the various mistakes of Gough Whitlam, the era of full employment was over.

And although economists kept a return to full employment as their ultimate objective – as did the Reserve Bank – it was never seen again. Well, not until August 2022, when unemployment got down to a low of 3.5 per cent for several months. That was its lowest in “almost 50 years”.

That’s higher than 2 per cent, but the labour market has changed a lot in half a century, and these days there’s probably a lot more “structural” unemployment – where the unemployed live in different cities to the job vacancies.

There’s general agreement among economists that 3.5 per cent is now a good level to regard as full employment. Remember that, over the past 50 years, unemployment has averaged about 6.5 per cent.

So how, after all this time, did the rate of unemployment suddenly drop to the level of full employment? It was perhaps the only benefit from all the trouble we had using lockdowns to restrict the spread of COVID-19.

Federal and state governments spent hugely to hold the economy together during the lockdowns and so, when they ended and people were let loose in the shops, restaurants and live entertainment venues with all the money they’d been unable to spend, the economy boomed.

Employment grew enormously and unemployment fell, with most of the new jobs being full-time. It helped that, at the time, our borders were still closed, so none of the new jobs went to people who’d come to Australia just to take the job.

All this happened under the Morrison government, with unemployment bottoming out at 3.5 per cent just three months after the May 2022 election. So then-treasurer Josh Frydenberg gets the credit for our return to full employment.

By then, however, the booming economy had caused consumer prices to take off. So the Reserve Bank did what it always does to slow the rate at which prices are inflating: it starts jacking up interest rates to force people with mortgages to cut their spend on other things. As people spend less, businesses don’t raise their prices as much.

But here’s the trick. Normally, the Reserve loses little time in pushing interest rates way up. Spending takes a big hit, businesses lay off workers, unemployment shoots up and the rate of price inflation quickly falls back to normal, after which the Reserve soon cuts interest rates back to normal.

Normally, but not this time. Treasurer Jim Chalmers and the Reserve agreed that this time care would be taken to limit the rise in unemployment and thus not stray far from full employment. To this end, the Reserve would raise interest rates slowly and no higher than absolutely necessary.

We can now see this softly, softly approach has worked. As interest rates have risen, employment has continued growing, with the rate of unemployment rising only to about 4 per cent, where it’s stayed for 14 months.

By now, however, the rate of inflation has fallen back to the Reserve’s target range of 2 to 3 per cent, so it’s slowly cutting interest rates back to a more normal level.

So how did this effort to hang on to full employment affect the election? Had the cost-of-living crisis been accompanied by many people losing their jobs, the pain would have been much greater, and the likelihood of Labor itself being shown the door would have been high.

Instead, almost everyone kept their job, while some were able to move to a full-time job or a second job to help make ends meet.

Our avoidance of recession – unlike other countries, starting with New Zealand – has come at a price, however. Although our smaller and slower increase in interest rates didn’t hurt so acutely, the period of high rates – about three years – kept homebuyers in pain for longer.

But I think it was well worth it. If you think coping with of the cost of living is tough, try doing it on the dole. A well-functioning economy is one that provides jobs for (almost) everyone who wants one. And that’s what our fully employed economy has provided us with for the past three years.

The proportion of all working-age people with a job is 64 per cent, its highest ever. That’s the solid proof we’re fully employed. Women have done best in gaining jobs in recent years. Fifty years ago, only 36 per cent of women were participating in the paid labour force. Today it’s 63 per cent.

It’s strange we could have passed judgment on the performance of the Albanese government this month without most people realising how well the jobs market has done on its watch.

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Want greater productivity? Set wages to rise by 3.5 pc every year

Stand by for yet more talk about productivity. With the election over and Labor more comfortably ensconced on the Treasury benches, Treasurer Jim Chalmers has pronounced that top priority can turn from fixing the cost of living to fixing our poor productivity performance.

We’ll get the first of the Productivity Commission’s reports today on things we can do to improve our ... productivity. Well, let’s hope something comes of it. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Forgive my scepticism, but the great and good have been sermonising on the need for productivity improvement for well over a decade and, so far, the rate of improvement has gone down, not up.

A few years back, the Australia Institute reminded us that just about every economic change the Abbott-Turnbull-Morrison government made came with an assurance it would lead to greater productivity. It didn’t.

(But usefully, the think tank defined productivity as the amount of output of goods and services that can be extracted from each unit of input of labour or physical capital.)

So, at the opening of open season on claims about productivity, let’s start by spelling out a few clarifying facts. First, over the past decade or so, productivity improvement has slowed throughout the developed world. Thus, if we manage to turn ours around, we’ll have achieved something none of the other rich countries have managed.

Second, almost everything we hear implies that if productivity isn’t improving, it must be the government’s fault. So productivity must be something supplied by the government and, if the supply is inadequate, the government must produce more.

Nonsense. Productivity is determined by how efficiently every workplace is organised. Since the great majority of workplaces are privately owned, if the economy’s productivity isn’t improving from year to year, it’s primarily because the nation’s bosses aren’t bothering to improve it.

Remember this next time you see the (Big) Business Council issuing yet another report urging the government to do something to improve productivity. What businesspeople say about productivity is usually thinly disguised rent-seeking.

“You want higher productivity? Simple – give me a tax cut. You want to increase business investment in capital equipment? Simple – introduce a new investment incentive. And remember, if only you’d give us greater freedom in the way we may treat our workers, the economy would be much better.”

Why do even economists go along with the idea that poor productivity must be the government’s fault? Because of a bias built into the way economists are taught to think about the economy. Their “neoclassical model” assumes that all consumers and all businesspeople react rationally to the incentives (prices) they face.

So if the private sector isn’t working well, the only possible explanation is that the government has given them the wrong incentives and should fix them.

Third, businesspeople, politicians and even economists often imply that any improvement in the productivity of labour (output per hour worked) is automatically passed on to workers as higher real wages by the economy’s “invisible hand”.

Don’t believe it. The Productivity Commission seems to support this by finding that, over the long term, improvement in labour productivity and the rise in real wages are pretty much equal.

Trouble is, as they keep telling you at uni, “correlation doesn’t imply causation”. As Nobel Prize-winning economist Daron Acemoglu argues in his book Power and Progress, workers get their share of the benefits of technological advance only if governments make sure they do.

Fourth, economics 101 teaches that the main way firms increase the productivity of their workers is by giving them more and better machines to work with. This is called “capital deepening”, in contrast to the “capital widening” that must be done just to ensure the amount of machinery per worker doesn’t fall as high immigration increases the workforce.

It’s remarkable how few sermonising economists think to make the obvious point that the weak rate of business investment in plant and equipment over the past decade or more makes the absence of improvement in the productivity of labour utterly unsurprising.

Fifth, remember Sims’ Law. As Rod Sims, former boss of the competition commission, often reminded us, improving productivity is just one of the ways businesses may seek to increase their profits.

It seems clear that improving productivity has not been a popular way for the Business Council’s members to improve profits in recent times. My guess is that they’ve been more inclined to do it by using loopholes in our industrial relations law to keep the cost of labour low: casualisation, use of labour hire companies and non-compete clauses in employment contracts, for instance.

Sixth, few economists make the obvious neoclassical point that the less the rise in the real cost of labour, the less the incentive for businesses to invest in labour-saving equipment.

So here’s my proposal for encouraging greater labour productivity. Rather than continuing to tell workers their real wages can’t rise until we get some more productivity, we should try reversing the process.

We should make the cost of labour grow in real terms – which would do wonders for consumer spending and economic growth – and see if this encourages firms to step up their investment in labour-saving technology, thereby improving productivity of workers.

Federal and state governments should seek to establish a wage “norm” whereby everyone’s wages rose by 3.5 per cent a year – come rain or shine. That would be 2.5 percentage points for inflation, plus 1 percentage point for productivity improvement yet to be induced. Think of how much less time that workers and bosses would spend arguing about pay rises.

Governments have no legal power to dictate the size of wage rises. But they could start to inculcate such a norm by increasing their own employees’ wages by that percentage.

The feds could urge the Fair Work Commission to raise all award wage minimums by that proportion at its annual review. If wages of the bottom quarter of workers kept rising by that percentage, it would become very hard for employers to increase higher wage rates by less.

A frightening idea to some, maybe, but one that might really get our productivity improving.

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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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Whatever happened to the cost living we were so worried about?

Talk about the dog that didn’t bark. Cast your mind back to the distant days of the election campaign, and you’ll dimly remember how often we were told how polling revealed that the only subject hard-pressed voters were interested in discussing was the cost of living.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers stuck to this rule relentlessly, repeatedly assuring us the economy had “turned the corner” (a focus-group-tested line if ever there was one), but Peter Dutton had trouble keeping to the script.

He was supposed to keep asking whether we felt better off than we did three years ago and, knowing our answer would be “no”, put all the blame for this regression onto Labor. But he couldn’t resist reminding us of the supposed rising tide of crime and risk of invasion.

Am I the only person to have noticed that, in all the many thousands of words commentators have spilled in explaining Labor’s landslide win, there’s been nary a mention of the cost of living? Had it been the only issue in voters’ minds, surely there’d have been a swing away from Labor, not towards it?

And what about all those outer-suburban seats full of families with massive mortgages? Why didn’t any of them think it was time to give the other side a try?

I think the explanation for the big swing to Labor was far simpler than the pundits think. People’s worries about the cost of living were forgotten after the arrival of a new and far more pertinent issue: voters got their first good look at Dutton and the kind of politician he was and, overwhelmingly, said “No thanks”. Come back Albo, all is forgiven.

So, what happened to the cost of living? Were the pollsters deluded in believing voters wanted to think about little else? Why were voters’ minds so easily diverted to another issue? Where are we at with the cost of living? Is it done and dusted, have we really turned the corner, and what are the prospects?

When people complain about the cost of living, they’re really saying they find it a struggle to balance the family budget from fortnight to fortnight. The trick is that, while in recent years they’ve been finding it particularly difficult, even in normal times it’s a fairly common occurrence.

So, complaining about the cost of living is like complaining about the weather – an ingrained habit. In summer, it’s always too hot; in winter it’s always too cold. Complaining about the cost of living is our default setting.

If nothing too bad is happening, pollsters asking about the big problems the politicians should be dealing with will always be told the cost of living’s a worry. It’s always up near the top of the list. When household budgets are particularly tight, it’s always at the top.

But introduce some more novel cause for concern, and the cost of living is quickly supplanted.

The thing about of the cost of living, however, is that it’s like an ailment. It’s the symptoms you complain about, not necessarily the root cause of those aches and pains.

When you ask people why they’re complaining about the cost of living, they usually reply that the rise in prices is shocking. How do they know? They see it at the supermarket every week.

It’s true. Overall, supermarket (and other) prices are always rising. But what matters is the rate at which prices are rising – that is, the rate of inflation. For about the past 30 years, governments, their econocrats (including the Reserve Bank) and economists generally have accepted that if the rate of inflation is averaging between 2 and 3 per cent a year, that’s nothing to worry about.

When Labor came to power in May 2022, the annual inflation rate, as measured by the consumer price index, was 5.1 per cent. By the end of that year, it reached a peak of 7.8 per cent.

The rate has slowed continually since then. By the end of September last year, it had slowed to 2.8 per cent – that is, back within the desired range. By March this year, it had slowed to 2.4 per cent. The more demanding “underlying” or core measure of inflation has slowed to 2.9 per cent.

So yes, in that sense, we have turned the corner, as Chalmers keeps telling us. But it’s not that simple. You have to ask why the rate of increase in consumer prices has slowed so much. A fair bit of it is the slowing – and, in some cases, actual falls – in overseas prices that are beyond our control.

But where home-grown prices are concerned, the main reason they’ve been rising more slowly is that the Reserve Bank has been raising interest rates to put the squeeze on households with mortgages, reducing their ability to keep spending so much on other goods and services, and so reducing the upward pressure on prices.

The Reserve made its first increase in the official interest rate just a few days before the May 2022 election – a clear signal to voters that the inflation problem got going under the previous, Coalition government.

After the election, the Reserve raised interest rates a further 12 times, increasing the official rate by a total of 4.25 percentage points to a peak of 4.35 per cent in November 2023.

See what happened? It’s not the pain of rapidly rising prices that’s caused people to keep complaining about living costs, it’s the pain from the high mortgage interest rates the Reserve has been using to get prices rising more slowly.

But in February this year, the Reserve cut interest rates by one click, of 0.25 percentage points. This was a sign it regarded the job of getting the inflation rate down as almost done. It was also a pre-election signal that rates would be falling further in the next term of government.

Indeed, it’s likely to cut rates by another 0.25 per cent click next week, with a further two or three clicks to come after that, greatly reducing the cost-of-living pain for households with mortgages.

Time for us to move on to other economic worries.

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