Don't miss the good news among the bad: we've hit jobs, jobs, jobs

Here is the news: not everything in the economy is going to hell. Right now, jobs, jobs, jobs are going great, great, great.

The news media (and yours truly) focus on whatever’s going wrong – the cost of living, interest rates, to take two minor examples – because they know that’s what interests their paying customers most.

This bias in our thinking exists because humans have evolved to be continually on the lookout for threats. Those threats used to be wild animals, poisonous berries and the rival tribe over the river, but these days they come more in the form of politicians who aren’t doing their job and business people on the make.

If you’re not careful, however, the preoccupation with bad news can leave you with a jaundiced view of the total picture. Everything’s bad and nothing’s good.

But it’s rare for anything to be all bad or all good. And, particularly where the economy’s concerned, it’s common for good things and bad things to go together.

For instance, when unemployment is high, inflation is usually low. And when inflation is high, unemployment’s usually low. (It’s in the rare event where they’re both high at the same time – “stagflation” – that you know we’re really in trouble.)

So, when our present Public Enemy No. 1 – Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe – began a speech last week by making this point, I realised I should make sure that you, gentle reader, hadn’t missed the rose among all the thorns.

Lowe said the high inflation we’re experiencing was “one of the legacies of the pandemic and of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine”. But “another remarkable, but less remarked upon, legacy of the pandemic is the significant improvement in Australia’s labour market”.

“Significant improvement” is putting it mildly. Have you heard of “full employment”, where everyone who wants a job has one? It’s the way our economy used to be for about three decades following World War II.

But you have to be as ancient as me to remember what it was like. One reason I quit my job and embarked on a course that eventually led me to this august organ was the knowledge that, should I need to get a job, all I had to do was wait until next Saturday’s classified job ads, and pick the one I wanted.

That’s full employment. And the world hasn’t been like that since Gough Whitlam was prime minister. Until now. We have more people with jobs than ever in our history.

At about 3.5 per cent, the rate of unemployment is lower than at any time since 1974. And before any of the imagined experts let fly on Twitter, this is not because any government, Labor or Liberal, has fiddled the figures.

What’s true is that, in recent decades, more people have been under-employed – they haven’t been able to get as many hours of work as they’ve needed.

But as Lowe says, in recent times, people have found it easier to obtain more hours of work. So the rate of underemployment is at multi-decade lows, and the proportion of jobs that are full-time is higher than it’s been in ages.

We now have 64 per cent of people of working-age actually in a job, the highest ever. The proportion of people either already in a job or actively seeking one – the “participation rate” - is also at its highest.

A lot of this is explained by the record high in women’s participation in the labour force.

Lowe says the rate of participation by young people is “the highest it has been in a long time” and the youth unemployment rate is “the lowest that it has been in many decades”.

If all that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is.

But for all those desperate to find a negative – often for reasons of partisanship – it’s not that you can’t believe the figures. It’s this: can you believe they’ll continue?

With the Reserve raising interest rates so fast and far to slow the economy’s growth and reduce inflation pressure, it’s clear that this is as good as it gets in the present episode.

For the past couple of months, we’ve seen the figures edging back a fraction from their best, and on Thursday we’ll see if that’s yet become a trend.

At present, Lowe is at the controls bringing the economic plane in to land. He’s aiming for a soft landing, but may miscalculate and give us a bumpy landing which, to mangle the metaphor, will send unemployment shooting up.

If so, we may have had just a fleeting glimpse of full-employment nirvana before it disappeared into the mist.

But for the more optimistically inclined, even if the landing is harder than planned, we’ll have started from a much lower unemployment rate than in past recessions, meaning it won’t go as high as it has before, and it should be easier to get back to the low levels we’d now like to become accustomed to.

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Why economists keep getting it wrong, but never stop doing sums

Why are economists’ forecasts so often wrong, and why do they so often fail to see the freight train heading our way? Short answer: because economists don’t know as much about how the economy works as they like to think they do – and as they like us to think they do.

What happens next in the economy is hard to predict because the economy is a beehive of humans running around doing different things for different reasons, and it’s hard to predict which way they’ll run.

It’s true we’re subject to herd behaviour, but it’s devilishly hard to predict when the herd will turn. Humans are also prone to fads and fashions and joining bandwagons – a truth straightlaced economists prefer to assume away.

I think it embarrasses economists that their discipline’s a social science, not a hard science. Their basic model of how the economy works became entrenched long before other social sciences – notably, psychology – had got very far.

They dealt with the human problem by assuming it away. Let’s assume everyone always acts in a rational, calculating way to advance their self-interest. Problem solved. And then you wonder why your predictions of what “economic agents” will do next are so often astray.

Actually, the economists don’t wonder why they’re so often wrong – we do. They prefer not to think about it. Anyway, there’s this month’s round of forecasts we need to get on with.

The economists’ great mission over the past 80 years has been to make economics more “rigorous” – more like physics – by expressing economic relationships in equations rather than diagrams or words.

These days, you don’t get far in economics unless you’re good at maths. And the better you are at it, the further up the tree you get. The academic profession is dominated by those best at maths.

Trouble is, although using maths can ensure that every conclusion you draw from your assumptions is rigorously logical, you’ll still get wrong answers if your assumptions are unrealistic.

In the latest issue of the International Monetary Fund’s magazine, the ripping read named Finance and Development, a former governor of the Bank of Japan reminds his peers about the embarrassing time in 2008, after the global financial crisis had turned into the great recession, when Queen Elizabeth II, visiting the London School of Economics, asked the wise ones why none of them had seen it coming.

With frankness uncharacteristic of the Japanese, the former governor observed that King Charles could go back and ask the same question: why did no one foresee that the economic managers’ response to the pandemic would lead to our worst inflation outbreak in decades?

One answer would be: because all our efforts to use computerised mathematical modelling to make our discipline more rigorous have done little to make us wiser. The paradox of econometric modelling is that, though only the very smart can do it, the economy they model is childishly primitive, like a stick-figure drawing.

The best response some of the world’s economists came up with, long after the Queen had gone back to her palace, was that academic economists had largely stopped teaching economic history.

These days, economists can’t do anything much without sets of “data” to run through their models. And before computerisation, there were precious few data sets. But those who forget history are condemned to . . .

The great temptation economists face is the one faced by every occupation: to believe your own bulldust. To be so impressed by the wonderful model you’ve built, and so familiar with the conclusions it leads you to, you forget all its limitations – all the debatable assumptions it’s built on, and all the excluded variables it isn’t.

As part of the academic economists’ campaign for an inquiry into the Reserve Bank, some genius estimated that the Reserve’s reluctance to cut its already exceptionally low official interest rate even lower in the years before the pandemic had caused employment to be 250,000 less than it could have been.

Only someone mesmerised by their model could believe something so implausible. Someone who, now they’ve got a model, can happily turn off their overtaxed brain. There’s no simple linear, immutable relationship between the level of interest rates and the strength of economic growth and the demand for labour.

At the time, it was obvious to anyone turning their head away from the screen to look out the window that, with households already loaded with debt, cutting rates a little lower wouldn’t induce them to rush out and load up with more – the exception being first-home buyers with access to the Bank of Mum and Dad, who as yet only aspired to be loaded up.

To be fair to the Reserve in this open season for criticism, it’s far more prone to admitting the fallibility of its modelling exercises than most modellers are – especially those “independent consultants” selling their services to vested interests trying to pressure the government.

In its latest statement on monetary policy, the Reserve explains how its modelling finds that supply-side factors explain about half the rise in the consumer price index over the year to September 2022.

But then it used a more sophisticated “dynamic stochastic general equilibrium model” which found that supply factors accounted for about three-quarters of the pick-up in inflation.

The Reserve’s assistant governor (economic), Dr Luci Ellis, told a parliamentary committee last month that this “triangulation” left her very confident that the demand side accounted for at least a quarter and probably up to a third of the inflation we’ve seen.

(Remembering the debate about the extent to which the present inflation surge reflects businesses sneaking up their profit margins – their “mark-ups,” in econospeak – note that this second model includes “mark-up” as part of the supply side’s three-quarters. Always pays to read the footnotes.)

One of the tricks to economics is that many of the economic concepts central to the way economists think are “unobserved” – the official statisticians can’t measure them directly. So you need to produce a model to estimate their size.

A case in point is the economists’ supposed measure of full employment, the NAIRU – non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment – the lowest the rate of unemployment can fall to before this causes wage and price inflation to take off.

Some of those business economists who believe the Reserve hasn’t raised interest rates nearly enough to get inflation down justify this judgment by saying our present unemployment rate of 3.7 per cent is way, way below what conventional modelling tells us the NAIRU is: about 5 per cent.

But Ellis told the parliamentary committee that the Reserve had rejected this estimate. The “staff view” was that the NAIRU had moved from “the high threes to the low fours”, and this was what its forecasts were based on.

So why dismiss the conventional model? Because, Ellis explained, it’s driven solely by demand-side factors. It’s “not designed to handle the supply shocks that we have seen over COVID”.

Oh. Really. Didn’t think of that. Mustn’t have had my brain turned on.

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Can the critics prove higher profit margins are fuelling inflation?

There’s a big risk we’ll fail to learn a vital lesson from our worst inflation outbreak in decades. If inflation is such a scourge that we must pay a terrible price to get it back under control, why do we do so little to stop big companies from acquiring the power to raise their prices by more than needed to cover their rising costs?

Economists are far more comfortable thinking about inflation at the top, macro level than the bottom, micro level. At the top, inflation is caused by aggregate (total) demand for goods and services growing faster that aggregate supply – the economy’s ability to produce those goods and services.

We know from Reserve Bank figuring that more than half the price rise we’ve seen has come from temporary disruptions to the supply of production inputs, caused by the pandemic and the Ukraine war.

But, the Reserve insists, prices have also risen because demand’s been stronger than it should have been. Why? Because in our efforts to hold the economy together during the pandemic, we applied far more economic stimulus than was needed.

Economists – even those who stuffed up the stimulus – are comfortable with this explanation because it puts the blame on government. The model of the economy they carry in their heads tells them the market usually works fine, whereas it’s government intervention in the market that usually causes the problems.

So, you can see why economists were so discombobulated when one of the world’s top macroeconomists, Olivier Blanchard, tweeted about “a point which is often lost in discussions of inflation”. “Inflation,” he wrote, “is fundamentally the outcome of the distributional conflict between firms, workers and taxpayers.”

He’s saying economists need to look at the more fundamental, bottom-up factors driving inflation. Is worsening inflation caused by workers and their unions successfully demanding real wage rises higher than the increasing productivity of their labour justifies?

Or is the strength of competition insufficient to do what the mental model promises: prevent firms from raising their prices beyond what’s needed to cover their higher costs (including a “normal” return – profit – on the capital invested by their owners)?

The strange fact is that economists and econocrats have a long history of lecturing workers and unions on the need for wage restraint. Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe has been saying workers must be “flexible” and accept wage rises far less than the rise in consumer prices. That is, take a big pay cut in real terms.

But economists are infinitely more reticent in urging businesses to go easy with their price rises. I suspect this is partly because of the biases hidden in their mental model, but mainly because they know their employer, or the big-business lobby, or its media cheer squad, or all the business people on the Reserve’s board, would tear into them for daring to say such a thing.

Similarly, economists have insisted the Australian Bureau of Statistics publish any number of different measures of wage growth, but few measures of profit growth.

Last month, Dr Jim Stanford, of the Australia Institute, sought to even things up a bit by publishing figures that broke the inflation rate up into the bit caused by rising wages and the bit caused by rising profits.

He found that “excess corporate profits account for 69 per cent of additional inflation beyond the Reserve Bank’s target”, whereas rising labour costs per unit of production (that is, after adjusting for the productivity of labour) account for just 18 per cent.

What? Huh? Never seen an exercise like that before. How’d he cook that up? The business lobby went on the attack and the business press consulted a few economists who lazily dismissed it as nonsense.

But though it’s unfamiliar, it’s not as weird as you may think. Stanford was copying the method used by some crowd called the European Central Bank. What would they know?

Well, OK. But how can you take the rise in the prices of products over a period and “decompose” it (break it down) into the bit caused by rising wage costs and the bit caused by rising profits?

By taking advantage of the fact that, every time we measure the growth in gross domestic product in the “national accounts”, we measure it three different ways.

First, the growth in the nation’s expenditure on goods and services. Second, the growth in the nation’s income from wages, profits and other odds and sods. Third, the growth in the production of goods or services by each of our 19 different private and public sector industries.

In principle, each way you measure it gives you the same figure for GDP. Then you use a “deflator” to divide the growth in nominal GDP between the bit caused by higher prices and the bit caused by higher quantities – the “real” bit.

So, it’s quite legitimate to take this measure of inflation and break it up between higher wages and higher profits (leaving the bit caused by changes in taxes and subsidies).

Actually, the stats bureau’s been doing this exercise for wages (“nominal unit labour costs”) for decades, but not doing it for profits (because no one’s been keen to know the results).

Note that the “GDP deflator” is a quite different measure of inflation to the one we usually focus on: the index of consumer prices.

Note, too, that the Ukraine war has caused a huge jump in the profits of our energy producers. This windfall hasn’t been caused by businesses sneaking up their profit margins (“mark-ups”, as economists say). But the growth in mining industry profits accounts for only about half the rise in total profits over the three years to December 2022.

I’m not comfortable relying on a think tank for these figures. But if the economists who champion big business don’t like it, they should take this exercise seriously and join the debate. The government should ask the stats bureau to finish doing the numbers itself.

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Relax, student loans show there's fate worse than debt

If you believe what you see in the media, our youth are groaning under the weight of debt they’ve acquired under the Higher Education Loan Program (HELP), alias the Higher Education Contribution Scheme. But I don’t believe every sob story I hear. Soft heart, hard head is my motto.

The latest is an ABC report claiming HELP debt has helped entrench women’s economic disadvantage. And the Futurity Investment Group’s latest University Debt Report, released on Wednesday, claims to reveal “the long-term financial and social burden the cost of a university education is having”.

As I’ve written recently, Baby Boomers are leaving a terrible legacy for the rising generation: climate change, unaffordable homeownership, precarious employment and tax breaks reserved for the old.

I suppose that, to many youths, adding a HELP debt to all that seems like adding insult to injury. But really, compared with that catalogue, student debt is well down the list.

According to the ABC’s report, women say they are frustrated by the HELP debt system and feel disadvantaged. It claims graduates today “often look like” a woman who, having had her children and approaching her 40s, retrained as a teacher.

Seven years later and working part-time, she’s frustrated because, despite paying back $6000 on her debt, she’s only $2000 ahead of where she started. Another woman fears she’ll end up living in her car.

The report says women hold the majority of all student debt, and claims “researchers say the student debt system has exacerbated structural financial inequities between men and women”.

This is a reference to a paper by Mark Warburton of the University of Melbourne. But his message is actually more nuanced, saying student debt has “become unfair for women, but there is a way to fix this”.

Considering that more girls than boys go on to uni, it’s no surprise that women hold the majority of student debt – even if, on average, men’s debts are greater than women’s.

Women take longer to repay their debt, but this is actually a feature of the scheme that adds to its fairness.

According to the Futurity Investment Group’s survey of about 1000 people who attended uni, student debt is pretty much the source of all social evil.

We’re told that three in five respondents say their student debt has affected their ability to buy a home. One in three say it has had a “moderate to very large” effect on their ability to start a family. A slightly smaller proportion say it’s affected their ability to get married. (Maybe they mean afford a big-budget wedding.)

A bit under a third of respondents say it’s had a “moderate to very large” effect on their ability to change jobs.

Sorry, but my bulldust detector is pinging like crazy. I just don’t believe it. I’m always sceptical of the results of small-sample surveys sponsored by vested interests, with the results just happening to endorse the outfit’s sales pitch.

Speaking of which, the Futurity Investment Group sells a range of “education bonds” which “allow parents and grandparents to tax-effectively save and invest to accumulate the funding to support their family’s life-long education objectives”.

I suspect that a lot of the resentment of HELP debt stems from a self-serving belief that university education should be free, as it was for a relatively brief period under the Whitlam government.

But that was when less than the top 10 per cent of school-leavers went on to uni. Today it’s 40 per cent. And, as Warburton reminds us, the student loan system was introduced in 1989 so taxpayers could afford to offer higher education to many more young people.

The scheme was carefully designed – by Professor Bruce Chapman, of the Australian National University – to allow universities to charge tuition fees without that discouraging bright kids from poor families from seeking to better themselves.

To this end, the government would lend people the fee-money up front, which they’d have to start repaying only once they were earning the average wage. If you lost your job, the repayments would stop until you got back on your feet.

The government would index your outstanding debt to the inflation rate but, unlike every commercial loan you’ll ever get, it won’t charge you a “real” interest rate of several percentage points on top of the inflation rate.

This is why it’s a good thing, not a bad thing, that women (and men) working only part-time are given longer to repay. A commercial bank wouldn’t do you the favour. And since the whole basis of the scheme is that if you can’t afford to repay the loan, you don’t have to, people need to learn not to worry about student debt the way you should about normal debt. It’s a very different animal.

Even so, in recent years the Coalition tightened up the repayment arrangements in ways that make the scheme less fair, particularly for those working part-time. But, as Warburton says, Labor can fix this.

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RBA inquiry should propose something much better

The inquiry into the Reserve Bank, due to report this month, will be disappointing if it does no more than suggest modest improvements in the way it does its job. The question it should answer is: should we give so much responsibility to an institution with such a limited instrument – interest rates – and with such a narrow focus?

In Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s lengthy appearance before the House of Representatives Economics Committee last month, he spent much of his time reminding critics that he only has one tool, so he can’t do anything to resolve the problems they were complaining about.

He’s right. But if the problems are real, and he can’t do anything about them, why should the central bank be the top dog when it comes to managing the economy, and Treasury’s job be limited to worrying about debt and deficit?

Shouldn’t the greatest responsibility go to an institution with more instruments, and ones capable of doing more tricks?

By the way, if you’re wondering why I’ve had so much to say recently about the limitations of monetary policy and the questionable convention of making it dominant in the management of the macroeconomy, it’s because it’s the obvious thing to do while we’re holding an inquiry into Reserve Bank’s performance.

Frenchman Olivier Blanchard, one of the world’s top macroeconomists, recently caused a storm when he tweeted about “a point which is often lost in discussions of inflation and central bank policy”.

“Inflation,” he wrote, “is fundamentally the outcome of the distributional conflict between firms, workers and taxpayers. It stops only when the various players are forced to accept the outcome.”

Oh, people cried, that can’t be right. Inflation is caused when the demand for goods and services exceeds the supply of them.

In truth, both propositions are correct. At the top level, inflation is simply about the imbalance between demand and supply. At a deeper level, however, “distributional conflict” between capital and labour can be the cause of that imbalance.

Businesses add to inflation when they seek to increase their profit margins. Workers and their unions add to inflation when they seek to increase their real wages by more than the productivity of labour justifies.

But this way of thinking is disconcerting to central bankers because – though there may well be a way of reducing inflation pressure by reducing the conflict between labour and capital – there’s nothing the Reserve can do about it directly.

Central banks’ interest-rate instrument can fix the problem only indirectly and brutally: by weakening demand (spending) until the warring parties are forced to suspend hostilities. So distributional conflict is the first thing monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates) can’t really fix.

Then there’s inflation caused by other supply constraints, such as the pandemic or wars. Again, monetary policy can’t fix the constraint, just bash down demand to fit.

The next things monetary policy doesn’t do are fairness and effectiveness. When we’re trying to reduce inflation by reducing people’s ability to consume goods and services, it would be nice to do so with a tool that shared the burden widely and reasonably evenly.

A temporary increase in income tax or GST would do that, but increasing interest rates concentrates the burden on people with big mortgages. This concentration means the increase has to be that much greater to achieve the desired slowing in total consumer spending.

A further dimension of monetary policy’s unfairness is the way it mucks around with the income of savers. Their interest income suddenly dives when the Reserve decides it needs to encourage people to borrow and spend.

In theory, this is made up for when the Reserve decides to discourage people from borrowing and spending, as now. In practice, however, the banks drag their feet in passing higher interest rates on to their depositors. But it’s rare for the Reserve even to chivvy the banks for their tardiness.

Governments need to be free to encourage or discourage consumers from spending. But where’s the justification for doing this by riding on the backs of young people saving for a home and old people depending on interest income to live on?

The next thing monetary policy doesn’t do is competition. What’s supposed to keep prices no higher than they absolutely need to be is the strength of competition between businesses. You’d think this would be a matter of great interest to the Reserve, especially since there are signs that businesses increasing their “markups” are part of the present high inflation.

But only rarely does the Reserve mention the possibility, and only in passing. It gives no support to the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission’s efforts to limit big firms’ pricing power.

The final thing monetary policy doesn’t do is housing. The Reserve is right to insist that its increases in interest rates aren’t the main reason homes have become so hard to afford.

The real reason is the failure of governments to increase the supply of homes in the places people want to live – close to the centre of the city, where the jobs are – exacerbated by their failure to provide decent public transport to outer suburbs.

But the ups and downs of mortgage interest rates must surely be making affordability worse. To this, Lowe’s reply is that, sorry, he’s got a job to do and only one instrument to do it with, so he can’t be worried about the collateral damage he’s doing to would-be young home buyers.

Well, he can’t be worried, but his political masters can. And if they’re not game to fix the fundamental factors driving up house prices, they should be willing to create an instrument for the short-term management of demand that doesn’t cause as many adverse side effects as using interest rates does.

The one big thing going for monetary policy as a way of keeping the economy on track is that the Reserve’s independence of the elected government allows it to put the economy’s needs ahead of the government’s need to sync the economy with the next election.

But, as various respected economists have pointed out, there’s no reason the government can’t design a fiscal instrument, giving another body the ability to raise or lower it within a specified range, and making that body independent, too.

It’s the Reserve Bank inquiry’s job to give the government some advice on why and how it should make a change for the better.

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Now the hard part for the RBA: when to stop braking

In economics, almost everything that happens has both an upside and a downside. The bad news this week is that the economy’s growth is slowing rapidly. The good news – particularly for people with mortgages and people hoping to keep their job for the next year or two – is that the slowdown is happening by design, as the Reserve Bank struggles to slow inflation, and this sign that its efforts are working may lead it to go easier on its intended further rises in interest rates.

But though it’s now clear the economy has begun a sharp slowdown, what’s not yet clear is whether the slowdown will keep going until it turns into a recession, with sharply rising unemployment.

As the Commonwealth Bank’s Gareth Aird has said, since the Reserve Bank board’s meeting early last month, when it suddenly signalled more rate rises to come, all the numbers we’ve seen – on economic growth, wages, employment, unemployment and the consumer price index – have all come in weaker than the money market was expecting.

What’s more, he says, only part of the Reserve’s 3.25 percentage-point rate increase so far had hit the cash flow of households with mortgages by the end of last year.

“There is a key risk now that the Reserve Bank will continue to tighten policy into an economy that is already showing sufficient signs of softening,” Aird said.

That’s no certainty, just a big risk of overdoing it. So while everyone’s making the Reserve’s governor, Dr Philip Lowe, Public Enemy No. 1, let me say that the strongest emotion I have about him is: I’m glad it’s you having to make the call, not me.

Don’t let all the jargon, statistics and mathematical models fool you. At times like this, managing the economy involves highly subjective judgments – having a good “feel” for what’s actually happening in the economy and about to happen. And it always helps to be lucky.

This week, the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts” for the three months to the end of December showed real gross domestic product – the economy’s production of goods and services – growing by 0.5 per cent during the quarter, and by 2.7 per cent over the calendar year.

If you think 2.7 per cent doesn’t sound too bad, you’re right. But look at the run of quarterly growth: 0.9 per cent in the June quarter of last year, then 0.7 per cent, and now 0.5 per cent. See any pattern?

Let’s take a closer look at what produced that 0.5 per cent. For a start, the public sector’s spending on consumption (mainly the wage costs of public sector workers) and capital works made a negative contribution to real GDP growth during the quarter, thanks to a fall in spending on new infrastructure.

Home building activity fell by 0.9 per cent because a fall in renovations more than countered a rise in new home building.

Business investment spending fell by 1.4 per cent, pulled down by reduced non-residential construction and engineering construction. A slower rate of growth in business inventories subtracted 0.5 percentage points from overall growth in GDP.

So, what was left to make a positive contribution to growth in the quarter? Well, the volume (quantity) of our exports contributed 0.2 percentage points. Mining was up and so were our “exports” of services to visiting tourists and overseas students.

But get this: a 4.3 per cent fall in the volume of our imports of goods and services made a positive contribution to overall growth of 0.9 percentage points.

Huh? That’s because our imports make a negative contribution to GDP, since we didn’t make them. (And, in case you’ve forgotten, two negatives make a positive – a negative contribution was reduced.)

So, the amazing news is that the main thing causing the economy to grow in the December quarter was a big fall in imports – which is just what you’d expect to see in an economy in which spending was slowing.

I’ve left the most important to last: what happened to consumer spending by the nation’s 10 million-odd households? It’s the most important because it accounts for about half of total spending, because it’s consumer spending that the Reserve Bank most wants to slow – and also because the economy exists to serve the needs of people, almost all of whom live in households.

So, what happened? Consumer spending grew by a super-weak 0.3 per cent, despite growing by 1 per cent in the previous quarter. But what happened to households and their income that prompted them to slow their spending to a trickle?

Household disposable income – which is income from wages and all other sources, less interest paid and income tax paid by households – fell 0.7 per cent, despite a solid 2.1 per cent increase in wage income – which reflected pay rises, higher employment, higher hours worked, bonuses and retention payments.

But that was more than countered by higher income tax payments (as wages rose, with some workers pushed into higher tax brackets) and, of course, higher interest payments.

All that’s before you allow for inflation. Real household disposable income fell by 2.4 per cent in the quarter – the fifth consecutive quarterly decline.

That’s mainly because consumer prices have been rising a lot faster than wages. So, falling real wages are a big reason real household disposable income has been falling, not just rising interest rates.

Real disposable income has now fallen by 5.4 per cent since its peak in September quarter, 2021.

But hang on. If real income fell in the latest quarter, how were households able to increase their consumption spending, even by as little as 0.3 per cent? They cut the proportion of household income they saved rather than spent from 7.1 per cent to an unusually low 4.5 per cent.

If I were running the Reserve, I wouldn’t be too worried about strong consumer spending stopping inflation from coming down.

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Don't waste sympathy on self-funded retirees ... like me

You probably haven’t noticed, but I never write about self-funded retirees without adding a pejorative adjective – “so-called” or, better, “self-proclaimed”. As worthy causes go, they’re at the top of their own list, but not high on mine.

One day, a reader took me to task: “Why are you so down on self-funded retirees, Ross, when from what I can see, you’ll be one yourself when you retire?”

Ahem, ah, yes, well... Some explaining to do. If self-funded means you’re so well-off you couldn’t possibly meet the means test to be eligible for the age pension then, yes, I’ll be self-funded. One thing I don’t have to look forward to is waiting on the phone for hours for help from those lovely souls at Centrelink.

In my experience, no one ever tells you they’re self-funded without expecting you to give them a medal. While other people have led spendthrift lives and now expect the taxpayer to support them in old age, I worked hard and saved my pennies, and now I’m getting nothing from the government.

What a good citizen I am. If only other people could be as self-sacrificing as I am. And, by the way, while we’re talking money, since it’s a bit of a struggle without the pension, I was wondering if the government could manage to give me a little something by way of appreciation. Say, a special tax offset for seniors, or easier access to a healthcare card?

What gets me about all this is that it’s just the wrong way round. It’s not the supposedly self-funded who are doing the taxpayer a favour, it’s the pensioners who retire without much in the way of super.

Why’s that? Because so much of any superannuation balance comes not from what you saved, but from the accumulated tax breaks you were given. I guess what many people don’t realise is that you get compound interest not just on what you contributed, but also on the concessions you received, year after year.

Many people retire with quite modest superannuation payouts, which do little to reduce their eligibility for the age pension. According to the Association of Superannuation Funds of Australia, the median balance for people aged 60 to 64 is less than $360,000 for men and less than $290,000 for women.

But people who retire with a super balance big enough to extinguish all or most of their pension eligibility will be getting far more help from the government than someone on the full pension. So, for such people to think of themselves as “self-funded” is delusional.

Consider these figures from Brendan Coates of the Grattan Institute. In 2019-20, the average tax break on earnings received by people with at least $1.6 million in super totalled about $60,000 a year. This was nearly three times the value of the single pension.

It’s not well understood that, whereas the age pension costs the government about $55 billion a year, the annual cost of superannuation tax concessions is almost as large – $52 billion. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be many more years before the super concessions exceed the cost of the pension.

Now perhaps, you understand why, at a time when so many demands are being made on the budget, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and Treasurer Jim Chalmers have decided to make the super tax breaks less generous for the 0.5 per cent of people with a super balance exceeding $3 million.

According to Coates’ calculations, this will free up about $1 billion a year for use in more deserving causes – decent aged care, for instance. Think about it. Balances of more than $3 million – I couldn’t spend that much money before I died if I tried. Especially because, the older you get, the less inclined you are to do things that cost a lot of money. You could be living it up at the George V Hotel in Paris, but you don’t feel like it.

According to Coates, nearly 90 per cent of the tax breaks go to the wealthiest 20 per cent of retirees. So, the critics are right to describe super as it presently stands as a taxpayer-funded inheritance scheme for wealthy Australians.

It’s only natural for people to aspire to leave their offspring well provided for. What’s not natural is for you to expect other, less fortunate taxpayers to contribute to your kids’ greater comfort.

The trouble with super is that it’s arse-about. The people who have the highest incomes, and thus the greatest ability to save, are given the greatest assistance, while the people with the least ability to save are given little or no help.

Oh, perhaps I should have mentioned it. If these appalling Labor people go ahead with lopping the tall poppies of superannuation, they’ll be aiming their scythe directly at me. Please write to the treasurer and say how terribly unfair this would be.

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The rich world should think twice about 'central bankism'

For the best part of 30 years, the governments of the advanced countries have outsourced the management of their economies to independent central banks. For many of those years, this change looked to have been a smart one. Now, not so much.

If the central banks’ efforts to get on top of the huge and quite unexpected surge in inflation that followed the pandemic go too far, and the rich countries end up in a severe recession, the inevitable search for someone to blame will lead straight to the door of the central bank.

After all, it was the central bank that, ignoring all the cries of pain, insisted on raising interest rates as far and fast as it did. And, as would by then be obvious, it misjudged and went too far.

It ignored the first rule for econocrats using a policy tool notorious for its “long and variable lags”: if you keep tightening until you’re sure you’ve got inflation beat, you’re sure to have gone too far.

You kept telling us it wasn’t your intention to cause a recession, but we got one anyway. So, were you lying to us, or just incompetent?

That’s my first point: if we do end up in recession, the independent central banks will get the blame, and there’ll be a posse of angry voters around the world demanding they be stripped of their independence.

But even if – as we hope - the worst doesn’t come to the worst, there’ll still be a strong case for our politicians to ask the obvious question: surely there must be a better way to run a railroad?

The rich world moved to central bank independence in the 1990s for strictly pragmatic reasons: because governments couldn’t be trusted to move the interest rate lever up and down to fit the economic cycle, not the political cycle.

Fine. But this is a democracy. How come a bunch of unelected bureaucrats have been given so much power? The fact is, independent central banking’s legitimacy comes solely because a duly elected government saw fit to grant it that freedom, and the present government hasn’t seen fit to take it away. Yet.

The trick is, if a central bank really stuffs up, voters will be furious, and they’ll turn on the only people they can turn on: the government of the day. You may think that, should a government of one colour be tossed out because of the central bank’s almighty stuff-up, the incoming government of the other colour would be mighty pleased with the central bank.

No way. What it would think is: if those bastards could do it to the others, they could just as easily do it to us. The new government’s first act would be to clip the central bankers’ wings.

The broader point is that independent central banking was not ordained by God. It’s just a policy choice we made at a time when it seemed like a good idea. When circumstances change, and we realise it wasn’t such a good idea, we’ll be perfectly equipped and entitled to change to a different policy arrangement we hope will work better.

Of course, moving away from economic management by interest-rate manipulation wouldn’t please everyone. It wouldn’t please academic economists who’d devoted their lives to the study of monetary economics (and right now, are hoping for a well-paid spot on the Reserve Bank board).

Nor would it suit the industry that, over the past 30 years, has grown up on the pavement outside the central bank’s building, so to speak. All the money market dealers who make their living betting on whether the central bank will change rates this month and by how much. Nor the economists who write the professional punters’ tip sheets.

And it’s a safe bet it wouldn’t suit the big banks, who’d much prefer the economy to be run by their mates down the road in Martin Place, rather than all those unknown bureaucrats and politicians in Canberra.

When you let one institution run the economy day to day for so long, it starts to get proprietorial. It’s in change of the economy and, when problems arise, it must be the outfit that takes charge and does what’s necessary to fix things.

There’s never a time when you admit that some other institution – the government and its Treasury advisers, for instance – should take the running because their instrument, the budget, is more multifaceted and suited to the problem than is your one-trick-pony instrument, interest rates.

And you do this even when the official interest rate is not far above zero. You tell everyone who thinks you’re out of ammo and should leave the running to Treasury and fiscal policy, they’re wrong, and resort to quantitative easing and other “unconventional measures”.

I reckon a big part of the reason what we thought was a problem of holding the economy together while we dealt with the pandemic turned into the worst inflationary episode in 30 years was the uncalled-for intervention of central banks, pushing themselves to the front of the fiscal parade.

And this from the institution that’s spend decades telling us it knows more about inflation than everyone else, cares more about inflation than anything else, and accepts ultimate responsibility to protect us from the supreme evil of inflation.

Today’s conventional wisdom says the present inflation surge was caused by big pandemic and war-caused supply shortages coming at a time when demand had been overstimulated. But a big part of that overstimulation occurred because central banks insisted on coming in over the top of those who were better equipped to respond to the pandemic and, indeed, were responsible for ordering and policing the lockdowns: the federal and state governments.

In Australia, nowhere was this overkill more apparent than in housing. While both federal and state governments were instituting temporary incentives to encourage home building, the central bank was not only slashing the official interest rate to near zero, it was lending to the banks at a hugely concessional rate, and buying second-hand government bonds, so the banks could offer home buyers two and three-year fixed-interest loans.

Throw in a temporary, pandemic-caused shortage of imported building materials, and you have much of our inflation surge being explained by an astonishing 27 per cent leap in the cost of a newly built home.

Why wasn’t there any co-ordination between the three arms of government that caused this avoidable inflationary disaster? Because the central bank is independent. It acts on its own volition.

But also because, when your only tool is a one-trick pony, you end up wearing blinkers. When you can only join the game by putting rates up or putting them down, you just can’t afford to worry about anyone who may be sideswiped in the process.

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How about sharing the economic pain arround?

If you don’t like what’s happening to interest rates, remember that although the managers of the economy have to do something to reduce inflation, it’s not a case of what former British prime minister Maggie Thatcher called TINA – there is no alternative.

As Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe acknowledged during his appearance before the House of Representatives Standing Committee on Economics last week, there are other ways of stabilising the strength of demand (spending) and avoiding either high inflation or high unemployment, which are worth considering for next time.

So, relying primarily on “monetary policy” – manipulating interest rates – is just a policy choice we and the other advanced economies made in the late 1970s and early 1980s, after the arrival of “stagflation” – high unemployment and high inflation at the same time – caused economists to lose faith in the old way of smoothing demand, which was to rely primarily on “fiscal policy” – manipulation of taxation and government spending in the budget.

The economic managers have a choice between those two “instruments” or tools with which smooth demand. The different policy tools have differing sets of strengths and weaknesses.

Whereas back then we were very aware of the weaknesses of fiscal policy, today we’re aware of the weaknesses of monetary policy, particularly the way it puts a lot more pain on people with home loans than on the rest of us. How’s that fair?

Lowe says the conventional wisdom is to use monetary policy for “cyclical” (short-term) problems and fiscal policy for “structural” (lasting) problems, such as limiting government debt.

But it’s time to review what economists call “the assignment of instruments” – which tool is better for which job. The more so because the government has commissioned a review of the Reserve Bank’s performance for the first time since we moved to monetary policy dominance.

It’s worth remembering that the change of regime was made at a time when Thatcher and other rich-country leaders were under the influence of the US economist Milton Friedman and his “monetarism”, which held that inflation was “always and everywhere a monetary phenomenon” and could be controlled by limiting the growth in the supply of money.

It took some years of failure before governments and central banks realised both ideas were wrong. They switched back to the older and less exciting notion that increasing interest rates, by reducing demand, would eventually reduce inflation. There was no magic, painless way to do it.

Macroeconomists long ago recognised that using policy tools to manage demand was subject to three significant delays (“lags”). First there’s the “recognition lag” – the time it takes the econocrats and their bosses to realise there’s a problem and decide to act.

Then there’s the “implementation lag” – the delay while the policy change is put into effect. Lowe described the cumbersome process of cabinet deciding what changes to make to what taxes or spending programs. Then getting them passed by both houses, then waiting a few weeks or months for the bureaucrats to get organised before start day.

He compared this unfavourably with monetary policy’s super-short implementation delay: the Reserve Bank board meets every month and decides what change to make to the official interest rate, which takes immediate effect.

He’s right. While the two policy tools would have the same recognition lag, monetary policy wins hands down on implementation lag.

But on the third delay, the “response lag” – the time it takes for the measure, once begun, to work its way through the economy and have the desired effect on demand – monetary policy is subject to “long and variable lags”.

Lowe said it took interest rate changes 18 months to two years to have their full effect. But I say most budgetary changes – particularly tax changes – wouldn’t take nearly that long. So, that’s a win for fiscal.

The sad truth is that measures to strengthen demand by cutting interest rates, or cutting taxes and increasing government spending, are always popular with voters, whereas measures to weaken demand by raising interest rates, or raising taxes and cutting government spending, are always unpopular.

This meant politicians were always reluctant to increase interest rates when they needed to, Lowe said. This is a good argument for giving the job to the econocrats at the central bank and making them independent of the elected government.

This became standard practice in the rich economies, although we didn’t formalise it until the arrival of the Howard government in 1996. Lowe advanced this as a good reason to stick with monetary policy as the dominant tool for short-term stabilisation of demand.

Against that, using monetary policy to get to the rest of us indirectly via enormous pressure on the third of households with mortgages shares the burden in a way that’s arbitrary and unfair.

What’s more, it’s not very effective. Because such a small proportion of the population is directly affected, the increase in interest rates has to be that much bigger to achieve the desired restraint in overall consumer spending.

But if the economic managers used a temporary percentage increase in income tax, or the GST, to discourage spending, this would directly affect almost all households. It would be fairer and more effective because the increase could be much smaller.

Various more thoughtful economists – including Dr Nicholas Gruen and Professor Ross Garnaut – have proposed such a tool, which could be established by legislation and thus be quickly activated whenever needed.

A special body could be set up to make these decisions independent of the elected government. Ideally, it would also have control over interest rates, so one institution was making sure the two instruments were working together, not at cross purposes.

Another possibility is Keynes’ idea of using a temporary rate of compulsory saving – collected by the tax office – to reduce spending when required, without imposing any lasting cost on households.

They say if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. It’s obvious now that macroeconomic management needs a lot of fixing.

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Caring folk care about early learning. So do hard-nosed economists

So, what did you make of the Albanese government’s Early Years National Summit at Parliament House on Friday? What? You didn’t hear about it? Well, yes, it got little coverage from the media. Yet another case of us letting the urgent and the controversial crowd out the merely very important and the encouraging. Maybe it’s a pity Peter Dutton hasn’t said he was thinking of opposing it.

In truth, the government’s election promise – to do a better job of delivering what’s now called ECEC, early childhood education and care – is its most expensive and, after climate change, probably its most important. The two have much in common, of course: the wellbeing of our kids and grandkids.

Note the way our need for affordable and available childcare has morphed into a concern to start children’s education much earlier than age 5.

Neuroscience long ago established that our brains develop continuously from birth to adulthood, but the development in the first five years of life is crucial to later development. It’s determined partly by our genes, but also by our experiences in the early years. Children who are badly treated, or don’t get enough attention, are likely to have problems in later life.

To put it more positively, there’s now much evidence that good quality early childhood programs help children get a better education. Starting earlier seems to help kids “learn how to learn”. All children benefit, but those from disadvantaged homes benefit most.

Other research shows that early learning leads to better health, reduced engagement in risky behaviours such as smoking, drinking, drug taking and over-eating, and stronger civic and social engagement.

These benefits to individuals are, in themselves, sufficient justification for government spending on early learning. But the benefits spill over to their families and the wider community.

As well, the economy benefits from having more people working rather than in and out of unemployment. This improves government budgets by increasing the number of taxpayers, as well as by reducing the need for remedial spending on school drop-outs or people with literacy problems. Or those who’ve got into trouble with the police.

The American economist and Nobel laureate James Heckman has found that quality early education helps break the cycle of generational poverty. And skills developed through quality early childhood education can last a lifetime.

Last week’s summit brought together 100 experts to help the government develop an “early years strategy”. To see what’s been happening, it helps to start with childcare, then move on to early education.

The Morrison government reduced the cost of childcare for second and subsequent children, but Anthony Albanese topped that by promising to increase the subsidy to up to 90 per cent for the first child, starting in July.

This was Labor’s biggest election promise, costing more than $5 billion a year. It has also asked the Productivity Commission to review the childcare system and asked the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission to develop a mechanism to regulate the cost of childcare.

But cost is only one problem. Many families have trouble finding a place for their kid. Research by Victoria University’s Mitchell Institute has found that more than a third of Australians live in regional and rural areas where three children vie for each place. Areas with the highest fees usually have the highest availability of places, suggesting private providers go not only where the demand is, but also where they’re likely to make higher profits.

I trust you noticed that all those wonderful benefits came from quality care. Successive federal governments have worked to increase the quality of childcare, including improved ratios of staff to kiddies. This helps explain why the cost of childcare keeps rising.

Politicians and economists tend to see the main benefit from more and cheaper childcare as allowing more women to get paid employment. This is about gender equity, not just a bigger economy.

But another reason childcare keeps getting dearer is the push for childcare to be about early education – “play-based learning” – not just child minding. This means getting better qualified carers, including a proportion with teaching qualifications.

The other part of the early education push is the introduction of “universal” preschool education for 4-year-olds. The previous government started this some years ago, with the states. Now the push is for preschool to be extended to 3-year-olds. And last year the Victorian and NSW premiers announced plans for greatly increased early childhood spending, particularly on preschools.

What more the feds will be doing, we’ll know when they produce their early years strategy. But whatever the plan, it’s unlikely to succeed unless it involves higher pay for childcare workers – paid for by the government, not parents.

Considering the many benefits of early education, however, the extra cost should be seen as an investment in our children’s wellbeing. Not to invest what’s needed would be to “leave money on the table”, as economists say.

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