Australians of the Year utterly out of step with the rest of us

How moving it was to watch Malcolm Turnbull presenting the Australian of the Year awards last week. What impressive people they were. Made me proud to be an Aussie.

I can't help liking Turnbull. At a show like that he's all we could hope for in a Prime Minister. He looked the part and spoke it well. He was completely at ease, someone we can be proud to have represent us to the world.

In his introduction he said all the right things. The "extraordinary finalists" for the various awards – Young Australian, Senior Australian, Local Hero and Australian of the Year – "light the way for us – shining examples of our best selves".

"Generous and compassionate, selfless, never daunted by seemingly impossible odds, brilliant, curious, entrepreneurial, innovative, building bridges to reinforce the mutual respect which secures our harmony and diversity.

"They include First Australians and those who have dedicated their lives to working with them" – such as the wonderful Sister Anne Gardiner, who's spent her life serving the Tiwi people on Bathurst Island.

"They include migrants and refugees who have fled horrors barely imaginable ...

"Yet, however much we celebrate the remarkable, peaceful and diverse nation that we have built together, we always strive to be better. Our Australians of the Year have always shown us how ...

"Respect for women, respect for each other, in all our magnificent diversity, is the foundation on which our harmonious society depends, is the platform which enables every Australian to realise their full potential."

And yet I confess that in the days since that proud night I've suffered a bad hangover. It seems our One Day of the Year has moved from April 25 to January 26.

We celebrate these "shining examples of our best selves" for one night and day before we revert to being far from our best selves for the rest of the year. We hunt up a handful of people who remain "selfless" so we don't feel so bad about the self-seeking lives the rest of us lead?

Far from retaining a strong sense of community, of helping each other and working for the greater good, we live in an era of every person for themselves, where the material almost always gets priority over the social, where our ambitions centre on personal advancement rather than making the world a better place.

If our politicians – of both stripes – are so keen for us to be "generous and compassionate" as well as "respectful" and part of a "harmonious society" why aren't they setting a better example?

What's generous and compassionate about sending social security recipients bills for "debts" owed to Centrelink that you haven't checked properly, then making them prove they don't owe that much with payslips and other documents from past years that you hadn't warned them to retain?

What's "respectful" about treating invalids, the aged, and young workers down on their luck in such a way? What's Australian about denying point blank there's any problem with what you're doing?

Why when you've gone out of your way to honour the place of First Australians do you, the very next day, curtly brush aside their request that the white majority run to the huge inconvenience and expense of changing the date of Australia Day? Respect, eh?

Do we honour the work of the Sister Annes because they salve our consciences? Thank God they're willing to put themselves out, because the rest of us ain't.

Some of us – including many in Turnbull's own electorate – are the children or grandchildren of "refugees who have fled horrors barely imaginable".

Much worse, apparently, than the way we've been treating refugees on Nauru and Manus Island.

Turnbull is right to say we've built a highly successful multicultural society.

Lately it's been fraying at the edges, however, with intolerance of people with unfamiliar religious practices – women's head coverings; halal – fears that all Muslims are terrorists, fears we're being overrun by Asians, and downward envy of government help for disadvantaged Indigenous people.

But it's not just that our political leaders fail to set an example, it's that too often they seek partisan advantage from our moral weaknesses. Rather than seeking to calm our fears of foreigners they compete to pander to them. Let's protect ourselves from the resurgent One Nation by aping its rhetoric, even its policies.

As for respect being "the platform which enables every Australian to realise their full potential" it's sentimental claptrap – especially coming from a government that seems to have set its face against funding the nation's schools on the basis of student need rather than established privilege.

It's schools and pre-schools that should be "the platform which enables every Australian to realise their full potential".

The most worrying message we got from the latest bad news on NAPLAN and PISA testing of students is the wide gap between our best and worst students and the large minority of kids the system is failing.

As Peter Goss, of the Grattan Institute, has demonstrated, we can go most of the way to needs-based funding quickly and without extra spending, provided we're prepared to shift funding from the less-needy to the more-needy.

But that would require Turnbull to exhibit the undaunted, entrepreneurial and bridge-building character traits he so admires in others.

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Lord save us from being governed by bankers

With Our Glad Berejiklian – the archetypal girl who works harder than the boys – replacing pin-up boy Mike Baird as Premier of NSW, should the citizens of other states be envious? Don't be too sure.

True, Berejiklian, like Baird before her, came to public office from a job in banking, rather than a post-uni career as a political apparatchik, though she did spend time as a ministerial staffer. Baird didn't even have that.

Politics is becoming a priesthood – a lifetime calling, culminating in elected office – with ever fewer politicians having spent most of their lives working in a normal job with normal people.

I doubt we're better governed under this development.

One thing making NSW different from other states is that, until Baird's resignation, it was a state governed by former bankers: premier, treasurer and Treasury secretary Rob Whitfield, shipped in after a 29-year career as a deal maker at Westpac.

With Baird gone, NSW may seem one banker down. Except that Berejiklian's successor as Treasurer, Dominic Perrottet, was a solicitor specialising in "banking restructuring".

I suppose one good thing about having a government dominated by bankers is they can be relied on to keep the budget shipshape. They'd be the last pollies to send us bankrupt.

Indeed, Berejiklian's proudest boast is that the NSW government (narrowly defined) is now debt free.

But is that the highest achievement of a government? You'd expect bankers to know better than to regard an institution like NSW without any debt as a joy to behold.

What about all the infrastructure the state still needs? Why boast about having no debt at time when debt is exceptionally cheap and governments' size and taxing powers make them ideally placed to borrow?

Though the fashionable fatwa against debt is atypical of bankers, what it does reveal is a weak grasp on the tenets of economics.

It's a mistake to imagine bankers and economists think alike. That's been my greatest reservation about the financially virtuous Baird government and my greatest fear about its Berejiklian successor.

Its only leading light who can be counted on to have a better grasp on the ways the powers and obligations of governments differ from those of a business is the secretary of the Premier's Department, Blair Comley, a former top federal Treasury officer.

Historically, state governments have had responsibility for owning a lot of profitable businesses, which have been government-owned only because they're natural monopoly networks – electricity, gas and water – as well as managing huge service-delivery organisations: public transport, roads, hospitals, schools and prisons.

This has led to the common notion that running a state government is pretty much about running a collection of businesses. The main thing you need is efficiency.

Sorry, wrong.

First, where governments deliver services with "public good" characteristics – services whose supply would be insufficient if customers had to pay market prices – the quality of the service, reflecting the multiple objectives in supplying it, is just as important as the cost of supplying it.

Second, when you're owning – or selling – a profitable business, profit should never be maximised at the expense of the wider community. You have to take an "economy-wide" perspective.

I fear a banker-dominated government is too likely to adopt a simple, business approach towards an endeavour that that has much wider objectives and obligations; to see the state budget as akin to a business's profit and loss account – as an end in itself rather than just a means to an end; to imagine that maximum benefit to the state's finances equals maximum benefit to people of the state and their economy.

Every instinct of a deal-making banker tells them the object of the exercise is to privatise a business for the highest price possible, this being in the best interests of taxpayers.

You do this by packaging the business up with government-conferred competitive advantages.

But this comes at the disadvantage of taxpayers-as-customers of the business, any present or potential private competitors, and business customers of the privatised business.

Rod Sims, boss of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, has been highly critical of the NSW government's privatisation of its ports which, of course, enjoy a degree of geographic monopoly.

I supported privatisation of NSW's electricity "poles and wires" mainly because ownership of a key natural monopoly presented the government with too much temptation to look the other way while its trading enterprises fattened their profits by gouging their customers.

Damaging the state's economy in the interests of improving the state government's finances is something only an ill-educated banker could think was a good idea.

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Think you're pretty sharp? Try this simple quiz

It's the last (unofficial) holiday weekend of summer before the new year really gets down to business on Monday. So let's have some fun. Try yourself on this simple quiz.

Q1: Linda is 31 years old, single, outspoken and very bright. At uni, she majored in philosophy. As a student she was deeply concerned with issues of discrimination and social justice, and also participated in anti-nuclear demonstrations.

Which of these two is more likely: that Linda is a bank teller or that Linda is a bank teller and is active in the feminist movement?

If you went for a feminist bank teller - sorry, wrong.

Q2: As an investor you're trying to decide between buying shares in three listed companies when you notice that one of them's been chosen as company of the year by a business magazine. Would that make it best bet of the three?

Q3: You're trying to decide which super fund to put your savings in, so you look up the figures to see which one had the highest returns last year. Would it be the best bet?

If you answered yes to those questions you're likely to be disappointed.

Q4: The instructors of fighter pilots found that pilots who were praised when they'd flown well always performed worse the next time, whereas those who were criticised for performing badly always performed better the next time.

The instructors concluded that criticism was more effective than praise. Were they right?

If you answered yes - sorry, wrong.

Q5: You flip an unbiased coin and it comes up five heads in a row. Which is more likely from the sixth throw: heads or tails?

Q6: Which is the more likely birth order in a family of six kids: B B B G G G or G B B G B G?

In the first case the sixth throw is just as likely to be another head as a tail. In the second, the two birth orders are equally likely.

Q7: Which would you prefer, an operation with a 90 per cent success rate, or a different one with a 10 per cent failure rate?

Answer: Have another think about the question.

Apart from the investment questions (which I threw in to please the business editor) all those questions come from best-selling business writer Michael Lewis' latest book, The Undoing Project.

It's the story of two Israeli-American academic psychologists, Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky, who demonstrated how wide of the mark is the assumption of conventional economics that we're all "rational" - coldly logical - in the decisions we make, thus giving a huge push to the new school of behavioural economics.

A lot of their experiments involved our understanding of maths. Don't feel bad if you failed many of them. Most of us do, even people good at maths.

The moral is, however much or little people know about maths, particularly the rules of probability, we have trouble applying this to our daily lives because we let our emotions distract us.

Q1 was about the rules of probability. Linda certainly sounded like a feminist, but a lot of bank tellers aren't feminists so, statistically, there was a higher probability that she was a bank teller than a bank teller and a feminist.

All that guff about her interests at uni engaged our emotions and distracted us from the simple probabilities.

The questions about investment choices and fighter pilots were about a key statistical regularity most of us haven't heard of, called "reversion to the mean".

The performance of companies, super funds or fighter pilots in any year is a combination of skill and luck. We're always tempted to attribute good luck to high skill.

The luck factor is random, so a performance that's way above average is likely to have been assisted by luck, just as a really bad performance is likely to have been worsened by bad luck.

If good luck and bad luck average out over time, an outstandingly good performance is more likely to be followed by a performance closer to the average than by another rip-snorter. Similarly, a really bad performance is more likely to be followed by one not so bad.

Note that we're only accounting for the luck factor in performance, so a policy of always predicting reversion to the mean gives you a slight advantage in the forecasting stakes, not a sure thing.

The pilot trainers were observing reversion to the mean, but falsely attributing it to their own efforts in awarding praise or criticism.

Sadly, this has left many of the world's bosses suffering the delusion that criticism works better than praise.

The questions on coin tosses and baby order were about the "law of large numbers", which says that if events have equal probability of occurring, eventually they'll occur an equal number of times.

We all know that if you toss a coin enough times you'll get a roughly equal number of heads and tails. And we all know the numbers of boys and girls being born are almost equal.

Trouble is, you need thousands of samples to be sure of getting that result. By expecting to see equal numbers in a sample as small as six, we've turned the statisticians' law of large numbers into our own imaginary "law of small numbers".

Remember, probability theory applies to independent events, where what's gone before has no effect on what happens next.

Humans are pattern-seeking animals, but sometimes we go too far and see patterns that aren't real. Five heads in a row, or three boys followed by three girls, may look unlikely but, because the law applies only to large numbers, are perfectly consistent with a random draw.

Whether it's heads or tails, boy or girl, the safest bet remains 50/50. In the case of the five heads in a row, no one told the coin its duty was to make its sixth toss a tail.

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Heartless government sools computer onto needy citizens

Of the loads of films I saw last year, the most memorable was Ken Loach's I, Daniel Blake. I go to the movies for escapist entertainment, not to give my emotions a good workout but, even so, it left a lasting impression.

It was the story of a 59-year-old carpenter in Newcastle, England, whose cardiologist told him not to go back to work for a few months after he'd had a heart attack on the job.

What we saw was Blake's mistreatment at the job centre he went to for social security payments at the height of the Cameron government's austerity spending cuts.

It was run like an assembly line, with "clients" processed as fast as possible, with a complete lack of flexibility or consideration.

Nothing Blake said was listened to, but at his first sign of frustration he was rebuked for his utterly unacceptable behaviour and threatened with removal by security guards. He was repeatedly threatened with the "sanction" of having his dole suspended for such crimes as being late for his appointment.

He got nowhere when he visited the centre, had to hang on for ages when he phoned, and was always being told to fill out forms online. Small problem: he didn't have a computer and didn't know how to use one.

Sorry, online forms are "mandatory".

Why would a government treat its citizens so badly? Well, reading between the lines you saw the centre had been handed over to a private business. It probably underquoted to get the contract and had turned the centre into a sausage machine in the hope of saving enough on staff to make a profit.

I thought of Daniel Blake when I read of the way the Turnbull government is using an "automated debt recovery program" to harass former users of Centrelink.

It's using a computer program to go back several years, checking Centrelink benefit payments against records from the Tax Office, to look for apparent overpayments and demand the money be repaid.

Trouble is, the exercise is hugely prone to error. Eligibility for social security benefits is assessed on a fortnightly basis, whereas tax information is annual. The machine merely divides the annual figures by 26 and often gets the wrong answer.

Where the same employer's name has been recorded differently, the machine treats them as separate businesses, sometimes calculating "debts" that are thousands of dollars out.

The machine may send its demand to an old address, even though failure to respond within 21 days is taken as acceptance that the figure named is correct, and the trigger for debt collectors to be called in, with the addition of a 10 per cent "recovery fee".

The many leaks from appalled Centrelink staff suggest they've been discouraged from correcting obvious errors before the machine-generated demands are sent out, and discouraged from helping people in person, rather than just telling them to use the website.

It's clear this is a fishing expedition. You make what you know may often be erroneous claims for repayment, shift the onus of proof onto people with few records or resources, give them a scare, then sit back and see how much you rake in.

I confess to feeling much empathy for people struggling with the many digital tentacles of the ironically named MyGov website. I'm an accountant but I still struggle with its online tax return.

Its requirement for you to supply your spouse's income sets up a Catch 22 where neither you nor your spouse can submit a return without saying something you know isn't true.

This year I'm stuck on a section of the return which, when I try to save it and move on, just says ERROR. OK, what's the error? Doesn't say. But I know what it's thinking: that's for us to know and you to find out.

So far I've spent ages searching the site for the answer, to no avail. I'm waiting for the time and courage to do battle with the Tax Office's phone system - assuming that's still permitted.

Back on the Centrelink debacle, I've been amazed by the way the Centrelink boss, the junior minister, Alan Tudge, and the senior minister, Christian Porter, have each denied there's any problem.

Really? This is the way bureaucrats and politicians get their names into the history books for contributing to their government's demise.

So far they've mainly been picking on young people on the dole, but now they're moving on to invalids and age pensioners. Really? Courageous decision, minister.

What on earth is motivating them? Partly it's that, having made so much fuss about debt and deficit while in opposition, the government is having enormous trouble getting the budget deficit down.

It lacks the courage to tackle the big sources of rent-seeking by business interests, but is confident it can get away with cracking down on the tiddlers in social security.

It's worse than that, however. Porter and Tudge are from the Liberals' hard Right. You can see from their speeches and remarks they have little sympathy for people poor enough to need social welfare, and every sympathy for their own class, groaning under the weight of a tax rate of supposedly "almost 50 per cent".

Their sacred mission is to prevent the need for higher taxes by ensuring none of their department's "clients" get away with a dollar more than they're supposed to get.

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Have a touchy-feely holiday break from the economic grind

I hope your "face time" with family and friends over the holiday break wasn't done using a mobile phone.

A phone call may be better than nothing, but it turns out that regular, in-the-flesh, face-to-face communication reduces the risk of depression in older adults.

That's according to research by Alan Teo, a psychiatrist at the Oregon Health and Sciences University, and others.

"Meeting friends and family face-to-face is strong preventive medicine for depression. Think of it like taking your vitamins, and make sure you get a regular dose of it," Teo advised.

Thanks to my own painstaking research (I googled it), I can tell you we know from previous studies that having social support and staying connected with people is good for your physical and mental health. It even helps you live longer.

Teo and his mates examined the results of a survey of about 11,000 people aged 50 or more between 2004 and 2010.

They found a correlation between the types of interactions people had with others and their likelihood of showing symptoms of depression two years later.

"We found that all forms of socialisation aren't equal. Phone calls and digital communication with friends or family members do not have the same power as face-to-face social interactions in helping to stave off depression," Teo said.

But what, pray tell, has this to do with the economics I'm paid to write about?

Well, in the silly season it doesn't have to. But as it happens, it does. One of the most important discoveries of economists in the past decade or so is the almost magical economic properties of face-to-face contact.

For this new knowledge we're indebted mainly to the guru of urban economics, professor Edward Glaeser, of Harvard, as set out in his important 2011 book, Triumph of the City.

Economic geographers have long understood the significance of "economies of agglomeration". We crowd into ever-bigger cities because close proximity between a business, its workers, its customers, its suppliers and even its competitors does wonders to improve productivity.

Unfortunately, what's good for our material standard of living isn't necessarily good for the soul.

Glaeser's contribution was to realise that, in the era of the knowledge economy, firms want to crowd together in the very centre of the biggest cities – regardless of sky-high rents – because knowledge spreads most effectively though face-to-face contact between the smartest people.

Here in Oz, pioneering empirical work by Jane-Frances Kelly of the Grattan Institute, has shown how more and more of our gross domestic product is being generated in the CBDs of our four biggest cities.

While she was at it, she publicised Reserve Bank research showing convincingly that, in every capital city, house prices are rising fastest in those suburbs closest to centre and slowest in those suburbs furthest out.

So if you think the golden rule of real estate is position, position, position, you're behind the curve. In big cities these days its proximity, proximity proximity. And that gets back to the economic value of face-to-face contact.

Unfortunately, however, what's good for our material standard of living isn't necessarily good for the soul.

When we're crammed in together in trains, lifts or waiting rooms, we know almost instinctively to avoid invading people's "personal space", avoid conversation and even eye contact.

But research by Nicholas Epley, of the University of Chicago's Booth School of Business, and Juliana Schroeder, of the University of California, Berkeley's Haas School of Business, shows our instincts are wrong.

In a series of experiments, those commuters who were instructed to strike up conversation with a stranger reported having the most positive experience, compared with those instructed to sit in silence or behave as they usually would.

When it comes to the advent of the knowledge economy, the information revolution and digital disruption, there are two errors we can make: underestimating the extent to which it's already changing the way the economy works (see above), and overestimating the extent to which it's changing the way humans work – and are happiest working.

You can be sure the world's model-bound economists will make – are making – the first error. And since their model copes with human nature only by assumption, they won't even be conscious of the second.

For the rest of us, however, the thing is to remember new technology raises three distinct questions: first, what new tricks is it actually capable of doing for us, second, do we really want it to do that trick for us and, finally, assuming we do, what will we eventually feel about the wisdom of that choice? See intro.

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To what do we owe the Industrial Revolution?

One of the small pleasures of my year was watching the deft political manoeuvrings of Thomas Cromwell in the TV miniseries of Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall.

Of course, this has nothing to do with the economy – or does it?

I've just been reading a paper by three economic historians, Monks, Gents and Industrialists, arguing that an important reason why the Industrial Revolution of the late 18th century began in England, and in particular parts of England, was the long-run consequence of Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries between 1532 and 1540.

Henry's right-hand man in orchestrating the dissolution was Thomas Cromwell.

The economists are Leander Heldring, of Oxford University, James Robinson, of the University of Chicago, and Sebastian Vollmer, of the University of Gottingen in Germany. Their paper is published by America's National Bureau of Economic Research.

We owe today's economy to the two centuries of economic development precipitated by the Industrial Revolution, a period of radical technological innovation beginning in the 1760s.

It involved the replacement of hand tools with power-driven machines, and the shift of production from artisans' homes to factories.

The initial changes were in textile manufacture and metals, using new forms of inanimate power such as the steam engine and new methods of transportation, such as the railway.

The newly ubiquitous form of energy was coal – the start of our ill-fated love affair with fossil fuels.

There's less agreement among historians on why the Industrial Revolution started in England. Some give the credit to Britain's superior economic and political institutions. Others see it as a consequence of various "economic shocks", such as the Black Death of the mid-14th century or the expansion of Atlantic trade.

These led to changes in England's social structure, to political conflict in the 17th century, particularly the English civil war of the 1640s, to the Glorious Revolution of 1688, in which William of Orange seized the English throne from James II and, ultimately, to favourable changes in economic institutions.

The famous English historian Richard Tawney argued that the dissolution of the monasteries caused a change in the rural social structure, which led to the civil war.

Later scholars have discounted this, but our authors argue the dissolution helped bring about something much bigger, the Industrial Revolution.

As part of Henry's break with the Pope – which happened at the time of the Protestant Reformation in other parts of Europe – parliament first decreed that the Catholic monasteries' tithes be paid to the king rather than Rome, then that the monasteries be dissolved, with their lands expropriated by the crown. The king was declared head of the Church of England.

In 1530 there were about 825 monasteries in England and Wales, housing about 10,000 people. The term "monasteries" includes nunneries, friaries, abbeys and priories.

Aside from maintaining property and collecting rents, the monks engaged in prayer and singing for the local community, were active in education and were expected to provide food and lodging to travellers and distribute alms to the poor.

The church is thought to have held between a quarter and a third of all the land in England and Wales.

Henry gave away some of the expropriated land – including to Thomas Cromwell – but sold most of it. Two-thirds had been sold by 1547 and most of the rest by 1554, during the reign of Edward VI.

A key part of the authors' thesis is that most of the land was sold to the "gentry" – all non-noble landowners with sufficient land or wealth to put them above the yeomen farmers.

It's estimated that the gentry's share of English land rose from a quarter in 1436 to about half in 1688. What Tawney called "the rise if the gentry" mattered because they tended to be more commercially minded rural entrepreneurs.

The authors hypothesise that, in parishes or counties where the gentry rose more, and where commercial farming was more advanced, the gentry would be involved in other activities which would ultimately coalesce into the Industrial Revolution.

Three mechanisms could have connected the gentry to industrialisation. First, they had the vote, were able to sit in parliament and to lobby for legislation favourable to their economic interests.

Second, it's plausible the gentry were part of "proto-industrialisation", where the necessary conditions for industrialisation were established. There are many case studies of such things as gentry establishing coal mines on their properties.

Third, to the extent that the gentry were entrepreneurial commercial farmers they would have been more innovative and productive, and this "agricultural revolution" could have directly stimulated the Industrial Revolution.

But the endangered species of economic historians isn't allowed just to think up plausible theories about the past. Academic economists' obsession with mathematics means they have to seek empirical evidence for their theses by using fancy statistical techniques to find correlations between whatever "data series" they can find.

The authors digitised the 1535 Valor Ecclesiasticus – a census of the monasteries' incomes, ordered by Henry – and compared it with the 1838 survey of textile mills, as well as figures from the British census of 1831 showing the proportions of the labour force engaged in manufacturing, retail and agriculture.

They showed that the monastic income in a parish in 1535 was positively and significantly correlated with the presence of a textile mill in the parish 300 years later. Monastic income was also correlated with the proportion of the labour force in manufacturing and retail 300 years later.

They then used a census from 1700 showing the number of gentry in each of 24,000 towns and villages. Again, a good correlation with the distribution of monastery incomes 165 years' earlier.

And they used other figures to show monastic income is correlated with the number of agricultural patents registered in a parish between 1700 and 1850, implying the dissolution may indeed have led to greater innovation.

So, thanks for your help, Thomas.

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How to get more enjoyment from the time available

I don't know about you, but it's at this time of year, when the Christmas rush is over and things slow down – even for those who are "working through" – that I get a bit more philosophical, a bit more reflective.

What exactly did I achieve last year? Is next year going to be all that different? What's the point of working so hard? How can I find a better balance between work and play?

To tell you the truth, I'm divided between all my old professional ambitions and a desire to slow down, smell the roses and have more fun.

Of course, one of the key lessons of economics is that we're often faced by conflicting but desirable objectives, and the answer is to find the best trade-off between them. The particular combination that yields most "utility" (aka happiness).

Unfortunately, that's about as far as economists' advice goes. Fortunately, psychologists' advice is a lot more practical.

Economists are big on working to make money, then using the money to buy the things that make us happy. Which things, exactly? Who knows? Economists cop out at this point by assuming you know what things make you happy.

Psychologists assume nothing, but conduct studies and experiments to see which things make us happiest and whether we always know to pick them.

Often we don't. Some years back I wrote up the recommendations of three North American psychologists in their paper, If money doesn't make you happy then you probably aren't spending it right.

Their advice included spending on experiences rather than objects, spending on others rather than yourself (eg Christmas) and on small pleasures rather than big luxuries.

Research shows that small pleasures – such as a cold beer on a hot day or, for my family, a hot cup of tea on a cold day – are some of life's most "salient" (noticeable) instances of happiness.

But soon after, three marketing academics, Jennifer Aaker, Melanie Rudd and Cassie Mogilner, published a complementary paper, If money does not make you happy, consider time.

Ah yes, time. One of the most valuable commodities we possess, but often spend unwisely. We work less efficiently than we could (guilty) and waste too much of our leisure time sprawled in front of the box watching reruns of Midsomer Murders (ditto).

Time tends to be laden with personal meaning – we live through it, after all – compared with money which, at best, contains potential. And time fosters interpersonal connection.

Since both personal meaning and social connection have been found to be critical to happiness, for individuals to consider how they spend their time ought to be important in their efforts to "solve the happiness puzzle".

The authors' first suggestion is to spend time with the right people. That doesn't mean cosying up to Malcolm and Lucy, it means that social leisure activities contribute more to happiness than solitary ones.

People who engage in social activities more frequently, experience higher levels of happiness than those who engage less often.

Whatever the activity, you usually enjoy it more if you do it with other people.

But it's not only whether you spend your time with others, but who the others are. More satisfaction comes from spending it with friends, family and significant others (or "the wife", as we probably should revert to saying during the Trumpocene) than with bosses and co-workers.

That's no doubt true but, since most of us have little choice but to spend much time with workmates, it makes a lot of sense to turn workmates into friends whose company we enjoy.

The authors say two of the best predictors of people's general happiness are whether they have a best friend at work, and whether they like their boss.

As the quality of workplace friendships increases, so do happiness and productivity, studies suggest.

The authors' second suggestion is to spend your time on the right activities. Regular checking by testers shows that hanging out with family and friends comprise the happiest parts of the day, whereas working and commuting make for particularly unhappy portions of the day.

But, again, if you can possibly wriggle your way into a position where you enjoy your work, you'll do much better in the happiness stakes.

Third suggestion is to enjoy the experience without spending the time. Neurological studies show people get much pleasure merely from thinking about activities they find pleasurable.

You can get a lot of pleasure from reading up on and planning a holiday even if, for whatever reason, you end up putting it off.

You can derive pleasure from window shopping, and the pleasure gained from shopping for a dress may exceed the pleasure from actually acquiring the dress, they say.

But the authors' next suggestion is roughly opposite to the previous one: expand your time. Rather than spending a lot of time salivating over future purchases or adventures, focus on "the now".

One possible benefit from being present-focused is that it slows down the perceived passage of time, allowing people to feel less rushed.

In one study, people instructed to take long, slow breaths for five minutes not only felt there was more time available to get things done, but also perceived their day to be longer.

Let me wish that 2017 is a year in which you perceive yourself to be less rushed.

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We're on the way to peak everything

Some economists worry the world economy isn't growing fast enough. It's slowing down and reaching the point of "secular stagnation".

On a very different wavelength, however, environmentalists worry that if the world economy keeps growing the way it is, it won't be long before we run out of the natural resources on which that growth depends. Whoops.

But if all that's a bit heavy for the holiday season, here's something lighter. Remember all that crazy talk a few years back about the paperless office? What a joke.

Then there was peak oil. Whatever happened to that looming disaster?

If any of those possibilities piques your interest, I have news - courtesy of an essay by Professor John Quiggin, of the University of Queensland.

Quiggin thinks the paperless office is on the way, especially because the world has already reached "peak paper".

Despite continuing economic growth, peak paper was reached in 2013. "Global paper production and consumption reached its maximum, flattened out, and is now falling," he says.

Until relatively recently, the growth and spread of information was directly linked to the growth in paper, books and newspapers.

The closely related information revolution and digital revolution have broken that link. Businesses and governments don't print reports, they just put them on their website. We read e-books and online newspapers.

Banks and businesses want to stop sending us statements and bills through the post. If we hold out too long, they impose a fee for continued paper statements.

As for peak oil, Quiggin says that, in terms of oil consumption per person, the world reached it in 1979.

"In the developed countries, the decline in oil consumption per person has outpaced population growth, with the result that total consumption is declining. The average person in a developed country now uses less oil than her parents did 40 years ago," he says.

Why has this remarkable change attracted so little notice? Partly because much of the reduction in energy use has taken the virtually invisible form of improvements in energy efficiency. Both industrial processes and household appliances use far less energy than they used to.

But also because, until fairly recently, the main substitutes for oil have been other fossil fuels, such as coal and gas. Only in the past 10 years have renewable energy sources, especially wind and solar, begun to play a significant role, he says.

Peak coal has already arrived in the developed world. Coal consumption has fallen substantially in the US and Europe, and is set to fall further.

Until recently, the decline in fossil-fuel use in the developed world has been more than offset by rapid growth in the developing countries.

But even China - the planet's largest coal consumer by far - has changed course. Beginning with Beijing, it has begun closing down all the coal-fired power stations near major cities.

"In fact, China reached peak coal in 2013, at the same time as it reached peak paper," Quiggin says.

As for peak steel, it's different. Steel lasts a long time and can be recycled almost endlessly, but demand for it is finite.

In developed countries, the stock of steel reached about eight tonnes a person decades ago, he says, and has remained stable or slowly declining since then.

"With the stock of steel on a gently sloping plateau, the need for more can be met almost entirely by recycling scrap, rather than by burning coal to smelt iron ore in blast furnaces.

"The result has been described as a 'circular economy'. When this arrives, peak steel will have been reached."

All this has happened while economic growth has continued and living standards have risen.

Economists have been saying for years, particularly in the developed world, that growth is becoming "weightless". The part of the economy that's growing isn't goods - things you can drop on your toe - but services: people doing things for people, whether fixing their health, teaching them nuclear physics or waiting on their table.

With an ever greater proportion of gross domestic product - the quantity of goods and services produced in a period - accounted for by services, economic growth becomes ever less dependent on the increased use of natural resources.

Over the long term, growth in real GDP comes less from the use of more raw materials, human labour and man-made machines and structures and more from improved "productivity" - greater efficiency with which those inputs are transformed into outputs of goods and services.

What drives productivity improvement? Advances in technology and accretion of human capital. That is, the growth and spread of knowledge and information.

But an information-driven economy is very different from the one we've become used to since the industrial revolution, one driven by the use of natural resources to produce goods plus a few conventional services.

Natural resources are finite. If you want to use my coal or paper you must pay me (they're "excludable"). Any coal or paper you use can't be used by someone else (they're "rivalrous").

This makes economic growth relatively easy to measure. But knowledge and information are opposite to natural resources: they're often freely available (non-excludable) and my knowing something doesn't stop you knowing it, too (non-rivalrous).

What's the difference between a taxi and Uber? Information. What's the difference between renting a hotel room or self-catering accommodation and Airbnb? Information.

A knowledge and information-driven economy is one whose continuing growth makes less demands on the natural environment than many scientists and environmentalists imagine. That's particularly true as we move to renewable energy.

But a knowledge and information-driven economy is harder to measure, especially using the metrics (GDP) we developed to measure a raw materials and goods-based economy.

We're now in a world where GDP is going one way and raw-materials use is starting to go the other way.

That's why Quiggin doubts that world economic growth is grinding to a halt.

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Why I wish we'd had our credit rating downgrade this week

You can tell by when a government releases its midyear budget update how well it's going with the budget. If it's doing well, it publishes as early in December as possible.

If it's doing badly, it publishes as close to Christmas as it thinks it can get away with, when normal people are busy with parties and preparations and not paying much attention.

This year we got the update just six sleeps before Santa's arrival. Draw your own conclusions.

And this year the government was worried, we're told, that the continued slippage in its efforts to repair the budget would prompt the credit rating agencies to downgrade our AAA status.

Labor was already salivating at the prospect, with finance spokesman Jim Chalmers confidently predicting a downgrade would "smash confidence in our economy" and "push up borrowing costs for households and small businesses".

You beauty! If that doesn't improve Labor's chances of beating the Coalition at the next election, what will? A little damage to the economy in the meantime? A price Labor would be happy for us to pay.

In the event, however, all three ratings agencies announced the update had done nothing to change their views.

But the government isn't off the hook. The most aggressive publicity seeker of the three, Standard & Poor's, didn't confirm our AAA rating, it said the update gave it no reason to change its "negative outlook" for that rating.

So the agency's supposed fiscal sword of Damocles remains hanging over Scott Morrison's head at least until the budget in May.

To tell you the truth, I'm sorry it didn't fall this week. That's not because I bear the government any ill will, but because the sooner we're downgraded, the sooner the public will realise there's little to fear from a downgrade. The ratings agencies are toothless tigers.

In any case, there is no good reason any sovereign Australian government – federal or state – should allow a few American for-profit businesses to dictate how much it should or shouldn't borrow (nor engage in hugely expensive ways of disguising the true extent of its liabilities).

The ratings agencies' credibility has been destroyed by their part in the global financial crisis. Not only did these all-wise experts fail to see it coming, they contributed to the conflagration by awarding AAA ratings to the promoters of "collateralised debt obligations" – for the small fee – that soon turned into "toxic debt".

It's long been questionable whether the agencies were leaders or followers in identifying the risks attached to the bonds issued by businesses and governments, but since the GFC there's little doubt the financial markets don't need their advice.

When Standard & Poor's downgraded US government bonds in 2011, the financial markets took no notice and the two other agencies left it hanging out to dry.

S&P downgraded Greece's government bonds only months after its budget cover-up became public in 2009.

All three agencies downgraded Britain's bonds immediately after Brexit, but market yields (interest rates) on those securities actually fell.

So it's not at all clear that a downgrading of our credit rating would do anything much to increase the interest rate at which our government can borrow.

And while it's technically true a downgrading of Australia's "sovereign" credit rating would flow on to the ratings of our banks, it's not clear this would increase their borrowing costs abroad, nor that there would be any flow-on to home buyers and small businesses.

While Labor's Chalmers was telling anyone who'd listen of the disaster about to befall everyone with a mortgage, the chief executive of ANZ Bank, Shayne Elliott, was telling his shareholders that a downgrade had already been priced into the funding costs for Australian banks.

Should the banks actually pass on that increase on to their customers, it would tell us less about the Turnbull government's budget failings than about the failure of successive governments – Labor included – to do enough to encourage greater competition between the big four banks, generous party donors that they are.

It suits neither the government nor the opposition to admit that the rating agencies' pressure on us to cut government spending is diametrically opposed to the advice we're getting from the two genuine international economic authorities, the International Monetary Fund and the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development.

Their advice is that, with our economy weaker than it should be, we still have plenty of "fiscal space" to strengthen the economy by borrowing to finance increased spending on worthwhile infrastructure.

All this is why I say that, these days, the economic significance of our credit rating is long gone.

It retains much political significance, however.

Governments – federal and state – still live in fear of a downgrade simply because they know their political opponents would parade this as a disaster for the government, the economy and public and private borrowers, as well as objective, authoritative proof that they are utterly hopeless economic managers.

Credit ratings are now little more than something the politicians use to slag each other off.

This is why I'm sorry we weren't downgraded this week. Only when the public experiences the ratings agencies' inability to have much effect on the interest rates we pay will they lose their power over our governments, and the pollies lose credit ratings as a political football.

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Party blame-laying conceals budget truths

Don't believe anything any politician on either side says about the mid-year budget update and the expected further deterioration in the budget deficit it reveals.

And don't let speculation about whether the government will or won't lose its AAA credit rating worry you.

These days, our credit rating is little more than something for the politicians to use to slag each other off. Its economic significance is long gone.

According to Treasurer Scott Morrison, the government's long and unsuccessful struggle to get the budget back to surplus is all Labor's fault, first because of the terrible mess it left when it lost office and second because of its refusal to support many government savings measures in the Senate.

According to Labor, the Coalition's been in office for more than three years, during which time things have got worse rather than better, and it has no one to blame but itself.

In truth, neither side is as bad as the other side claims, but each is more at fault than it is prepared to admit.

It's true Labor left office with the budget in bad repair. It had two big new policies - the national disability insurance scheme and the Gonski schools funding scheme - for whose rapidly growing cost it had made quite inadequate provision.

But it is equally true that the Abbott government's first act was to make the budget worse by abandoning various taxes and tax savings measures it didn't agree with.

Morrison speaks at length about the government's efforts to "repair" the budget, but the truth is that, since the rejection of the government's first budget by the public and the Senate, it has made no further effort to improve the budget balance, either by net cuts in government spending or net tax increases.

When Morrison speaks about all the spending cuts he has succeeded in putting through, and all those Labor has helped to block, he hopes you won't realise that their purpose was merely to stop the government's new spending decisions from adding to total spending.

That is, he has limited himself to trying to stop government spending getting ever greater. He hasn't been trying to make it smaller.

It is true, of course, that Labor has blocked many of the government's proposed spending cuts.

But to imply, as Morrison and others argue, that Labor has a moral obligation to pass all the spending cuts the government proposes, is to absolve the government of any obligation to propose savings the Senate might regard as sharing the burden of budget repair fairly between the haves and have-nots.

In fairness, the further deterioration in the budget outlook revealed in the up-date arises almost wholly from slower than expected growth in tax collections, particularly the pathetically slow growth in wages, which is not of the government's making.

Labor refuses to accept this "excuse" as payback for the Coalition's refusal to accept Labor's "excuses" when similar revenue setbacks occurred while it was in office.

This is the point being missed in all the blame laying: the main reason successive governments have had so little success in reducing the deficit is the economy's weak rate of growth since the resources boom started busting in 2011.

Some may think the economy's continuing weakness should not inhibit the government's willingness to slash and burn. Not me.

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