You can (partly) blame cost-of-living crisis on greedy businesses

The nation’s economists and economist-run authorities such as the Reserve Bank have not covered themselves in glory in the present inflationary episode. They’ve shown a lack of intellectual rigor, an unwillingness to re-examine their long-held views, and a lack of compassion for the many ordinary families who, in the Reserve’s zeal to fix inflation the blunt way, have been squeezed till their pips squeak.

There’s nothing new about surges of inflation. Often in the past they’ve been caused by excessive wage growth, where economists have been free with their condemnation of greedy workers. But this one came at a time when wage growth was weak and barely keeping up with prices.

What economists in other countries wondered was whether, this time, excessive growth in profits might be part of the story. Separate research by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, the International Monetary Fund, the Bank for International Settlements, the European Commission, the European Central Bank, the US Federal Reserve and the Bank of England suggested there was some truth to the idea.

But if the Reserve or our Treasury shared that curiosity, there’s been little sign of it. Rather, when the Australia Institute replicated the European Central Bank’s methodology with Australian data and found profit growth did help explain our inflation rate, the Reserve sought to refute it with a dodgy graph, while Treasury dismissed it as “misleading” and “flawed”.

One leading economist who has been on the ball, however, is Professor Allan Fels, a former chair of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, whose experience of competition and pricing issues goes back to the year before I became a journalist.

In his report this week on price gouging and unfair pricing practices, commissioned by the Australian Council of Trade Unions, he concluded that “business pricing has added significantly to inflation in recent times”.

Fels says his report is “fully independent” of the ACTU, which did not try to influence him. Considering his authority in this area, I have no trouble believing it.

“ ‘Profit push’ or ‘sellers’ inflation’ has occurred against a background of high corporate concentration and is reflected in the surge of corporate profits and the rise in the profit share of gross domestic product,” he finds.

“Claims that the rise in profit share in Australia is explained by mining do not hold up. The profit share excluding mining has risen and [in any case,] energy and other prices associated with mining have been a very significant contributor to Australian inflation,” he says.

Fels says there has been much discussion about inflation and its causes – including monetary policy and fiscal policy, international factors, wages, supply chain disruption and war, but “hardly any discussion that looks at actual prices charged to consumers, the processes by which they are set, the profit margins and their possible contribution to inflation”.

His underlying message is that there are too many industries in Australia which are dominated by just a few huge companies – too many “oligopolies” – which limits competition and gives those companies the ability to influence the prices they can charge.

“Not only are many consumers overcharged continuously, but ‘profit push’ pricing has added significantly to inflation in recent times,” he says, nominating specifically supermarkets, banks, airlines and providers of electricity.

Fels says, “some of Australia’s largest businesses, often [those selling such necessities that customers aren’t much deterred by price rises], are maintaining or increasing margins in response to the global inflationary episode”.

He identifies eight “exploitative business pricing practices” – tricks – that enable the extraction of extra dollars from consumers in a way that wouldn’t be possible in markets that were competitive, properly informed, and that enabled overcharged customers to switch easily from one business to another.

First, “loyalty taxes” set initial prices low and then sharply increase them in later years when customers can’t easily detect, question, or renegotiate them, and where the “transaction costs” of changing to another firm are high. This trick can be found in banking, insurance, electricity and gas.

Second, “loyalty schemes” are often low-cost means of retaining and exploiting consumers by providing them with low-value rewards of dubious benefit.

Third, “drip pricing” occurs when firms advertise only part of a product’s price and reveal other costs as the customer continues through the purchasing process. This trick is spreading in relation to airlines, accommodation, entertainment, pre-paid phone charges, credit cards and other things.

Fourth, “excuse-flation” occurs when general inflation provides camouflage for businesses to raise prices without justification. This has been more prevalent recently. As the inflation rate starts falling, excessive inflation expectations and further cost increases can be built in to prices.

Fifth, “confusion pricing” involves confusing customers with myriad complex price structures and plans, making it difficult to compare prices and so dulling price competition. This is occurring increasingly in mobile phone plans and financial or maintenance service contracts.

Sixth, asymmetric or “rockets and feathers” pricing is a big deal now the rate of inflation is falling. When a firm’s costs rise, prices go up like a rocket; when its costs fall, prices drift down slowly like a feather.

Fels says this trick can be very profitable for businesses. The banks have long been guilty of this stunt, yet I can’t remember a Reserve Bank governor ever calling it out.

Seventh, “algorithmic pricing” is where firms use algorithms to change prices automatically in response to what their competitors are doing. Fels wonders whether this reduces price competition and is analogous to the way now-illegal cartel pricing worked.

Finally, “price discrimination” involves charging different customers different prices for the same product, according to what the firm deduces a particular customer is “willing to pay”. The less competition firms face, the easier it is for them to play this game.

That so few economists and econocrats have been willing to think about these issues doesn’t speak well of their profession’s integrity. If they won’t speak out about businesses’ failings, why should we trust what they do tell us?

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Fifty years ago, I found my dream job – and I’m not done yet

If a genie ever sprang from a bottle and offered me one wish, it would be to have a job as a columnist on the biggest and best newspaper in the country, The Sydney Morning Herald. If he offered me a second wish, it would be to have my columns also published in the country’s other great newspaper, The Age.

For the first seven years after I left school, I worked to achieve my dream of becoming a chartered accountant. Not any old accountant, a chartered accountant. Unfortunately, by the time I achieved that exalted qualification, I’d realised I didn’t enjoy being an accountant and wasn’t particularly good at it.

I had a premature midlife crisis at the age of 24 and, after some casting around, on February 7, 1974, found myself as an over-aged cadet journalist on the Herald.

It took me only a few weeks to realise I’d stumbled into the only job I’d ever want. One I was good at and found greatly interesting and rewarding. I’d dropped a lot of money to become a mere cadet, but that didn’t matter. I was the square peg that had fallen into a square hole.

I wasn’t much good as a reporter, but the old boys who ran the Herald had the wit to steer me towards the feature and column writing I was good at. After three years, and having written many unsigned editorials, I got my first column. A year later, I was made economics editor, and by 1983, I had the three columns a week that I’m still writing, on the same day and in the same section of the Herald, 40 years later.

That’s all you need to know to see why I’ve stayed in my job at the Herald for 50 years, ignoring the usual retirement age when it flashed past 11 years ago. I’ve never been able to think of another paper I’d prefer to work for or another job I’d prefer to have.

Editor of the Herald? I have a lot more fun than he or she does, with much less responsibility.

Doing it my way

Perhaps because I was older and starting a second career, or perhaps because my upbringing in that strange uniformed Protestant sect, the Salvos, had made me a bit of a loner, I decided to join Frank Sinatra and do it my way.

I wouldn’t try to impress my peers, or even the editor, but would write a column that better met what I thought the readers were looking for. Later, I realised this could be my moral compass: Serve the Reader.

Because nature had intended me to be a teacher, I decided that, while all the others were off chasing scoops, I’d concentrate on explaining to the reader what on earth it all meant. I’d try to figure out how the economy worked, and when I’d got something figured, I’d tell all.

Because economics has so much potential to be boring, I’d pull every trick I could to make it simple and readable. I’d write in the first person, in an easy, conversational style. I’d even put myself and my doings in the story.

Because the world gets ever-more complex, I’d try to ensure the young people we hired to write about the economy had some formal education in the topic. Then I’d teach ’em the tricks of the trade. I’ve had the privilege to mentor a couple of dozen of the Herald’s ablest recruits.

An unrecognisable economy

Over 50 years, I’ve written well over 5000 columns, and worked for 16 editors – one of whom lasted for about 24 hours. I’ve covered 50 federal budgets, 19 federal elections, and seen 11 prime ministers and 16 treasurers come and go, starting with Gough Whitlam and Frank Crean, Simon’s dad.

In that time, I’ve seen huge changes in the economy, in politics and economic policy, not to mention – which I will – changes at the Herald. One of the latter is that, these days, newspapers prefer to refer to themselves as “mastheads”, in recognition that far more of our readers do so on our website than on dead trees.

I want to recall some of those changes, so let’s start with the shape of the economy. If a Rip Van Winkle fell asleep in 1974 and woke in 2024, I doubt he’d recognise our economy.

Every economy is changing continuously, partly because our customs and practices change and partly because government economic policies change. But the greatest source of change is advances in technology, and the past 50 years have seen the spread of computers, a revolution in telecommunications and the birth of the internet.

When I was first in the workforce, everyone was paid weekly, in notes and coins stuffed into little brown envelopes. Any money you didn’t want to spend immediately had to be taken to your particular branch of your bank, with your deposit recorded by hand in a little passbook.

City workers would go out in their lunch hours to pay their utility bills in cash at the company’s office. Bills came in the mail, and you’d write a cheque and post it back. In 1974, the banks combined to introduce the first credit card, Bankcard.

You had to beg your bank to lend you less than you really needed to buy a home. Until the Whitlam government’s Trade Practices Act of 1974, it was legal for businesses to collude in setting the prices they charged, or agree to carve up the territory between them, limiting competition.

The prices of bread, eggs and petrol were set by the state government. You bought your electricity from a government monopoly. Annual inflation of consumer prices averaged 10 per cent in the 1970s and 8 per cent in the ’80s.

People stay a lot longer in the education system than they used to, and emerge with higher qualifications. This is related to the much bigger role that women now play in the paid workforce. More girls are staying longer in education, doing better than boys academically, and getting a growing share of the good jobs.

Over the past 50 years, the size of Australia’s workforce has far more than doubled, to well over 14 million, while the industry structure of the economy has changed greatly. In round figures, agriculture’s share of total employment has fallen from 7 per cent to 2 per cent. Despite successive resource booms, mining’s share has risen only from 1 per cent to 2 per cent.

Manufacturing’s share has fallen markedly from 22 per cent to 6 per cent. With construction’s share unchanged at about 9 per cent, that means the services sector’s share has jumped from 61 per cent to 81 per cent – something that has favoured the increased employment of women.

The huge decline in the proportion of workers needed to grow, dig up or manufacture goods is explained by continuous advance in labour-saving technology. But where have the many additional jobs in the services sector come from? They’re mainly in health and aged care, education, and professional, scientific and technical services.

My career at the Herald has seen many major changes in government policies, though most of these presumed “reforms” occurred long ago under the Hawke and Keating governments. First came the decision in December 1983 to allow the Australian dollar to float, then the deregulation of the banks and, later, many other industries.

The removal of the high import duties protecting our manufacturing industries was begun under Bob Hawke, but completed under John Howard. But this does less to explain the declining employment in manufacturing than many imagine. Automation and the rise of China should get more of the blame – or, for consumers, the credit.

The privatisation of government-owned businesses began under Hawke-Keating, but continued under Howard and state governments of both colours. The outsourcing of government-provided services, a much more debatable “reform”, continues to this day.

For many of my early years as a commentator, our centralised wage-fixing system delivered pay rises of the same percentage and on the same day to virtually every worker in the country. People like me wrote unceasingly about the evils of excessive wage rises.

At the time, I thought Keating’s move to wage bargaining at the enterprise level a big improvement. Now, having seen the way employers have used the less regulated system to chisel workers’ wages, I’m less sure about that.

Do you realise that in 1974, all capital gains and employee fringe benefits were untaxed? Keating’s reforms in 1985 changed that. And Howard’s introduction of the goods and services tax in 2000 gave us the same sensible indirect-tax system most other rich countries had long had.

We had spent a quarter of a century trembling at the thought of such a tax since it was first proposed in the Asprey report of 1975. Today, it’s no big deal.

Labor gets the credit for introducing our first universal healthcare system, and compulsory employee superannuation which, more than 30 years later, ensures most couples will live more comfortably in retirement than they would under just the age pension.

Palace revolutions and digital disruption

But now, a remembrance of a topic no other people still working on the Herald can say they lived through at close quarters: the many changes at this august organ.

I’ve hung around long enough to see all the palace revolutions that have progressively turned this 193-year-old paper from being owned by the two branches of the Fairfax family – each led by cousins, Sir Warwick and Sir Vincent – to now making up about a third of the Nine Entertainment media conglomerate.

I wasn’t here long before, at the urging of management, the ageing Sir Warwick was replaced as company chairman by his elder son, James. James was far less interventionist, allowing the editors of the various papers to make their own decisions and leading, I believe, to Fairfax’s Golden Age.

But the retirement of a powerful general manager soon saw the Herald’s new editor-in-chief, David Bowman – who’d done most to advance my career – deposed and replaced by the former managing editor of The Australian Financial Review and The National Times, Vic Carroll.

Urged on by the new chief editorial executive, Max Suich, Carroll set about belatedly dragging the Herald into the modern age. I hate to admit it, but the great transformation of Australia’s broadsheet newspapers was spurred by the advent in 1964 of Rupert Murdoch’s startlingly clean, good-looking and energetic national broadsheet, The Australian, when I was still a schoolboy. Under its great reforming editor Graham Perkin, The Age was the first quality paper to take up the challenge.

When I joined in 1974, and until Carroll began his changes in 1980, the Herald’s failure to move with the times was reflected in its declining circulation. It saw its mission as ensuring news was reported the way it always had been.

Its language was very formal and its reporting largely devoid of explanation, context, interpretation or emotion. I concluded that the chief subeditor saw his job as taking a story and draining all the colour out of it, to make it fit for publication.

Most news stories were anonymous, being “by a staff correspondent”. We were committed to being “a paper of record”, which meant keeping stories short so as to cram in as many as possible. This produced a paper that was black and white in both senses and visually messy. It simply failed to match the competition coming from radio and, particularly, television.

Carroll changed all that. While he was at it, he reformed me – more with kicks than pats on the head. He freed me from my self-imposed duty to ensure my economics fitted with the proprietors’ commitment to endorsing conservative governments before elections.

Since Carroll, my opinion really is my opinion. He was, without doubt, the best of all the editors I’ve worked for.

Not many years later, we were hit by ructions within the Fairfaxes, as Sir Warwick’s other son by a different marriage, Young Warwick, sought to avenge his father and please his mother by borrowing heavily to buy up all the company’s shares, paying far more than they were worth.

His new managers closed our afternoon paper, The Sun, and sold off whatever assets they could, but it was no use and by 1991 the company was in receivership.

The business continued to trade as normal, and remained profitable, but not sufficiently profitable to cover all the money Young Warwick had borrowed to buy it.

Kerry Packer’s plans to buy the business failed to eventuate – thanks to the machinations of some financier called Malcolm Turnbull – and the Canadian media baron Conrad Black ended up with a minority but controlling interest.

Keating wouldn’t allow a foreigner to increase his interest in the company, so Black eventually sold out. Like so many Australian companies, Fairfax’s ownership ended up being shared between a host of superannuation funds and other “institutional investors”, making it a plaything of the stock exchange.

All this, however, was nothing compared with the challenge from the digital revolution. At first, the move from typewriters to screens, and from “hot metal” to digital offset printing was just a nice money-saver. We were able to greatly reduce the number of printers we employed, move our printing plant to the outer suburbs and escape all the “restrictive work practices” – lurks and perks – of the militant printers’ union.

But then we – like every newspaper – discovered that the rise of the internet had taken away most of our advertising revenue. Before the revolution, every big city had a broadsheet newspaper with a virtual monopoly over classified advertising. A monopoly it exploited to the full.

This “river of gold” kept Fairfax profitable, even though most of the money was used to employ more journalists and compete for the best journalists by paying them well.

But when it became obvious that people wanting to sell houses or cars, or fill job vacancies, could do much better by advertising on the net, the river of gold ran dry.

From the beginning, newspapers’ business plan had been strange but simple: use your news to gather an audience, then charge advertisers for access to your audience. To maximise the audience, keep the paper’s cover price nominal.

At first, we – and other newspapers around the world – just tried to move the same formula online. We put all our editorial content online and freely available, hoping to attract enough digital advertising. We tried using “clickbait” to get as many people momentarily clicking on our site as we could.

It didn’t work. Eventually, we realised that almost all the digital advertising revenue was being scooped up by Google and Facebook. Following the lead of The New York Times, we moved to putting much of our online content behind a paywall and charging readers a subscription for access to it.

Since the internet remains replete with free news, it’s a business model that works only if your news is different and better than the free stuff.

I was never confident a company as old as Fairfax could bring itself to make the radical changes necessary to survive in the strange new world of digital news. Without the classifieds’ river of gold, we had to lose a lot of journalists, cut a lot of costs and change a lot of practices.

I give much credit to former Fairfax chief executive Greg Hywood – a former editor-in-chief of the Herald, who I’ve known since we worked in adjoining offices in the Canberra press gallery in 1975 – for ensuring the survival of the Herald and other great mastheads.

Some other chief executive might have secured the company’s survival by ditching all those terrible old newspapers, but Fairfax without its mastheads was of no attraction to a life-long journo like Hywood.

Ably assisted by Antony Catalano, who belatedly established Domain to capture a large chunk of the online property classifieds market, Chris Janz, who devised the mastheads’ rescue plan, and Michael Stevens, whose one goal is to prolong the life of our print editions (and is the man to credit – or blame – for attracting all those Harvey Norman ads), Hywood secured the future of the Fairfax mastheads.

The digital subscription model is working – these days, the meaning of the word “subs” has changed from subeditors to subscriptions – and as we tighten our paywall, it works even better.

At one level, our valuable sources of non-news revenue, Domain, and our joint venture with Nine in the Stan streaming video business, helped ensure the company stayed profitable.

At another level, however, Hywood knew that, without a family with majority control, we were vulnerable to some sharemarket raider keen to buy our side assets and happy to dump our reason for being.

His last act was to find another, bigger company to which he could marry us off, and so protect us from hostile takeover. It needed to be another media company, one that was a good fit with the assets we brought to the marriage, and one that understood the need to preserve the independence and reputation of the classy dame it was acquiring.

Hywood chose well. It’s been a happy, respectful marriage. Our many media competitors have banished the word Fairfax and delight in demeaning us as “the Nine newspapers”.

Those more susceptible to conspiracy theories see us as controlled by daily talking points issued by the chairman of Nine Entertainment, Peter Costello.

Nothing of the sort. I guess I’ll have to retire some day, but I don’t expect unhappiness with our owners to be any part of my reason for hanging up my boots.

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Are the supermarket twins too keen to raise their prices?

The cost-of-living crisis has left many convinced the two big supermarket chains – known to some as Colesworth – have been “price gouging” – raising their prices without justification. “Gouging” is a rude, pejorative phrase that would never cross an economist’s lips (nor mine), but economic theory does say that, when an industry is dominated by just a few huge companies, this will give them the power to manipulate prices to their own advantage.

But anecdotes and even economic theory are one thing, hard evidence is another. And knowing what to do about it is a third. So it’s good that last Friday, Treasurer Jim Chalmers launched a full inquiry into supermarket prices by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. Chalmers said this was “about making our supermarkets as competitive as they can be so Australians get the best prices possible”.

The inquiry, which will take a year, will include an examination of online shopping, the effects of loyalty programs and how advances in technology are affecting competition.

The competition watchdog’s chair, Gina Cass-Gottlieb, said the commission will use its compulsory information-gathering powers to collect financial details from the supermarket giants.

The government has also commissioned a former Labor minister and economist, Dr Craig Emerson, to review the effectiveness of the “food and grocery code of conduct”, introduced in 2015 to stop the big supermarkets from using their buying power to extract unreasonably low prices from their suppliers, particularly farmers.

The code is voluntary and has no way of punishing bad behaviour, so hasn’t worked well. It’s drawn few complaints from suppliers, probably because they’re afraid of retaliation by Colesworth. Only if it’s made compulsory and given teeth is it likely to improve the farmers’ lot.

Our groceries market is one of the most concentrated in the developed world. Woolworths has 37 per cent of the market and Coles has 28 per cent, leaving Aldi with 10 per cent and Metcash (wholesaler to IGA stores) with 7 per cent. So our two giants’ combined share of 65 per cent compares with Britain’s top two’s share of 43 per cent. In the United States, the four largest chains make up just 34 per cent of the market.

While we wait for the competition watchdog’s report, what do we know about the chains’ behaviour?

The report of an unofficial inquiry into price gouging and unfair pricing practices, commissioned by the ACTU from a former competition commission chair, Professor Allan Fels, will be published on Wednesday.

But we know from a letter Fels sent to Chalmers last month what it will say about supermarkets. Fels said the inquiry had been inundated with concerns from experts and regular Australians alike on the prices set by the chains.

Fels found that neither Coles nor Woolworths suffered declines in profit during the pandemic because their services had been deemed essential. Since then, however, both have increased their profit margins, thanks to weak competition and their ability to delay passing on any cost reductions.

Fels noted that high prices, including co-ordinated price increases between the two, aren’t actually prohibited by competition law, except where there is unlawful communication or agreement between the firms. (Which, of course, doesn’t prohibit tacit collusion.)

Duopolies have a mutual incentive not to decrease prices where possible, Fels said, particularly on those goods whose prices are closely watched by customers.

“There has not been a price war between the major supermarkets in some years,” he said. This contrasts with the British experience, where Tesco and Sainsbury’s entered an aggressive price war with Aldi.

Here, the entrance of Aldi has been helped by outlawing the ability of the big two to do deals with shopping centre owners preventing rival supermarkets from setting up. Fels said he shared the watchdog’s concern about the big two’s ability to limit competition by engaging in “land banking” – hoarding supermarket sites, so rival companies can’t get a foothold.

Fels worries also about the giants playing “rockets and feathers”. When their costs rise, their prices go up like a rocket, but when their costs fall, their prices drift slowly down like a feather.

Fels found that, as prices have increased, consumers had noticed again and again that once-normal prices were being advertised back to shoppers as “special”.

He quoted one submission to his inquiry asserting that, until August 2022, Coles and Woolies sold a 200-gram jar of Timms coffee for $8. Then Coles increased the shelf price to $12.70 before, a couple of weeks later, reducing the price to $10.70 with a tag saying “was $12.70 per bottle, now ‘down, down!’.”

Another submission asserted that Devondale cheese had gone from $5 to $10 in recent months, but had then been on “special” for $10.

Cass-Gottlieb has said the commission was “carefully looking” at claims that some discounts amounted to deceptive conduct. She also said it was concerned by “was, now pricing”, which might be outlawed.

If all the pain of the cost-of-living crisis at last prompts this government to get tough with the game-playing supermarkets, it will be some consolation.

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Bosses are finding more innovative ways to handcuff their workers

When I joined the John Fairfax superannuation scheme 50 years ago on Wednesday, I little knew my new boss was trying to handcuff me. Fortunately, they were “golden handcuffs”. But these days, bosses use other, more blatant ways to tie their workers to them and stop wages growing so fast.

The Fairfax scheme I joined decades ago must have been fairly common among big companies in the years after World War II, when shortages of skilled labour were almost continuous.

From memory, the company offered to contribute an extra 6 per cent of my pay to the scheme, provided I contributed 4 per cent. That 4 per cent stopped many people joining the scheme, but not me.

What I didn’t realise was that, if you left the scheme before reaching retirement age, you got your own contributions back, with 3.75 per cent interest, but forfeited the company’s contributions and the accrued earnings on them.

But here’s the trick: the company didn’t keep the forfeited contributions and earnings, but transferred them to the scheme’s general fund, to be shared between those loyal employees who did stay until retirement.

Get it? The longer you’d worked for the company, the more you had to lose by leaving. Plus, the more you had to gain by staying on until retirement. You were bound to the company by golden handcuffs.

(A side-benefit to the Fairfax family was that much of the huge sum in the general fund was held in Fairfax shares, thereby increasing the family’s protection against a hostile takeover.)

Relax. My handcuffs are long gone, removed by Paul Keating’s introduction of compulsory super for employees and related reform of existing company super schemes, in the early 1990s. Today, all employer contributions and earnings are immediately "vested" in the employee, meaning you take them with you when you leave the company.

Now, I should remind you that mainstream economists are great believers in "the mobility of labour". The freer workers are to move to another employer offering a better job, or to start their own business, the more efficient the economy is likely to be, and the faster productivity will improve.

So the last thing economists approve of is employers being able to discourage, delay or even prevent their staff from moving on. That is, able to prevent market forces from working the way they should.

But as assistant minister for competition Dr Andrew Leigh reminded us last week, there’s much research showing that employers around the world are increasingly using "non-compete clauses" in their employees’ contracts. To get the job, you have to agree not to leave and work for one of its competitors for a set period, or to yourself set up in competition.

Couldn’t happen in a decent place like Australia? Don’t be so sure. Just as it’s taken longer for our chief executives to start believing they’re entitled to pay themselves many multiples more than they pay any of the company’s other employees, so they’ve been slower to follow the Yanks and Brits in handcuffing those who work under them.

Even so, an online survey conducted by Dan Andrews (not that one) from the e61 Institute, and Bjorn Jarvis from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, found that as many as one in five Australian workers is subject to a non-compete clause.

Smaller percentages of employees must agree not to poach the company’s workers after they’ve left, or not to solicit the business of their former employer’s clients.

The survey found that, as well as applying to senior executives, non-compete clauses may apply to many workers who have close contact with the customers: childcare workers, yoga instructors and specialists in IVF.

It also found that competition clauses applied to 39 per cent of managers, 26 per cent of community and personal service workers, and to 14 per cent of clerical and admin workers.

Leigh says that shifting jobs is typically associated with a substantial jump in pay. Yes, that’s probably why few recruits resist when the new boss slips in some clause about what happens if you leave. Leave? I haven’t even arrived yet.

But Leigh says even many low-paid workers are constrained from shifting to a better job. Don’t forget that, these days, many government-subsidised services are provided by small, for-profit providers.

I hire you to work in my childcare or aged care (or yoga) business, but you prove good at it, and popular with the parents or the oldies’ children, so you leave and set up for yourself, taking some of my customers with you.

Leigh says that, even if some non-compete clauses wouldn’t stand up in court, they are rarely tested. (That’s another yawning gap between theory and practice. In theory, we’re all equal before the law. In practice, lawyers cost big bucks – and the boss has a lot more bucks to play with than you do.)

“In most cases,” Leigh says, “workers subject to a non-compete clause will either choose to suffer the period of enforced ‘gardening leave’ [the months or years that you’ve agreed not to join a competitor or become one] or will stay with their existing employer.”

But this is about more than employers treating you like you’re their slave. It’s also about wages. Especially where workers possess skills that aren’t easy to come by, competition between employers pushes wages up. If you can find a way to dampen that competition, you’ve kept a lid on wage costs.

“This means that workers miss out on potential wage gains,” Leigh says. “It also makes it harder for start-up firms to attract the talent they need to challenge incumbents. In turn, productivity suffers.”

The Bureau of Statistics has added a question about non-compete clauses to its regular survey of employee earnings and hours, which it will publish later this month.

The competition taskforce within Treasury, set up by the government last year, will be looking closely at this information to learn more about the effects of non-compete clauses on workers and businesses in Australia.

Have you noticed how, whenever the (Big) Business Council reads us another lecture on the need for major reform to get our productivity improving again, non-compete clauses never rate a mention?

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The next thing on Albanese's to-do list: fix competition

In a capitalist economy, every capitalist professes to believe in stiff competition. In truth, it’s their biggest hate. Why? Because it limits their ability to put up prices and makes them work harder for their money.

Just this week, big business has been saying that, if only we could get proper tax reform – by which they mean lower taxes on companies and the highly paid – we’d get more productivity and more innovation.

In truth, what’s far more likely to improve innovation and productivity is stiffer competition, particularly in those many industries dominated by just a few giant corporations.

The federal government doesn’t have a minister for competition, but it does have an assistant minister: Dr Andrew Leigh, a former economics professor.

Last year, the Albanese government announced a rolling two-year review of competition and set up a taskforce within Treasury. It’s supported by an expert advisory panel with some big names: Dr Kerry Schott as chair, David Gonski, the former boss of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, Rod Sims, and the new boss of the Productivity Commission, Danielle Wood.

This week Leigh gave us an update on what the taskforce had been doing and discovering. But he started with a locker room pep talk on why competition is the key to making capitalism – or “the market system” as economists prefer to call it – benefit the customers more than the capitalists.

“Competition provides a check on unbridled profit-seeking by business. In a competitive market, innovators can bring new products and services to market, without fear of being shut down by entrenched monopolists,” he says.

Competition limits unearned privilege and seeks to treat everyone fairly. Competition guides labour and capital to their most valuable uses and combinations, driving the productivity improvement that underpins sustainable wages growth.

“For workers, genuine competition between businesses provides greater opportunities to switch jobs, allowing workers to make the most of their skills and secure better pay and conditions.”

“For consumers, competition provides more choices, allowing people to shop around and find better value products and services. Indeed, the most obvious benefit of competition is in delivering cheaper prices. There is no better tool than competition policy for keeping real prices down.”

And, Leigh adds, competition is also crucial if Australia is to make the most of the big shifts involved in digitisation, growth in the care economy and the transition to net zero carbon emissions.

But Leigh warns of “worrying signs the intensity of competition has weakened over recent decades, with evidence of increased market concentration and [profit margins] in several industries.”

“Other countries find themselves at similar crossroads and many are – like us – reviewing their competition policy settings,” he says.

Our taskforce is taking a fresh approach to competition policy: digging out and analysing large sets of data to understand what the problems are and help craft solutions to them.

The digital revolution is producing masses of “microdata” on what businesses are doing, while making it easier for statisticians to measure the growth in the economy earlier and more accurately.

It gives academic economists great ability to analyse what’s happening in particular industries, and gives the econocrats a better understanding of what and how to regulate the things business gets up to.

For the first time, the taskforce has developed a database that tracks company mergers throughout the whole economy. Believe it or not, it does this by looking at the flows of workers moving to different employers.

This will allow it to track the effects of mergers on the performance of businesses, on employment and on industry concentration – that is, fewer firms controlling more of a particular market.

The new database has already revealed three worrying things. First, because notifying the competition regulator the ACCC of an intended merger is voluntary, it hears of about 330 mergers a year, whereas there are between 1000 and 1500 mergers occurring annually.

Second, for the most part, it’s huge firms swallowing smaller firms, rather than medium and small firms joining. Get this: the largest 1 per cent of firms account for about half the acquisitions.

Larger companies made more acquisitions over the course of the 2010s. And mergers were most common in manufacturing, retail, professional services, and health and social services.

Third, the firms that are the targets of takeovers are more than twice as likely to own a patent and almost twice as likely to own a trademark.

Remember that patents give inventors a long-term legal monopoly over the use of some invention. So this finding raises the fear that at least some takeovers are motivated by a desire to gobble up an effective competitor, or may even be “killer acquisitions” aimed at killing inventions that threaten the profits of some big player.

Leigh says we can expect to hear more from the government this year on mergers and how they should be regulated. The taskforce issued a consultation paper in November asking for opinions on whether the present arrangements remain fit for purpose.

The ACCC has already proposed a significant increase in its power to block mergers considered likely to substantially lessen competition.

And, last December, the federal government secured agreement from the state treasurers to revitalise national competition policy and commit to developing an agenda for pro-competitive reforms.

Meanwhile, Leigh points to findings by British academics Geoff and Gay Meeks that reveal only one in five research papers find that the typical merger boosts the profits or the sharemarket value of the merged business.

They point out that mergers often boost the remuneration of the company’s managers, while leading to layoffs among workers.

Leigh acknowledges that mergers aren’t necessarily a bad thing, but the small number of proposed mergers that do raise competition concerns warrant close scrutiny.

He says that “for the sake of shareholders, workers and citizens, it is important to ensure that Australia’s regulatory system is not facilitating value-destroying mergers”.

Many of the nation’s chief executives may not agree with that, but most of the rest of us would.

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The two big parties have wedged themselves into a corner on tax

Politicians want us to think things like the stage 3 tax cuts are matters of high principle: keeping solemn promises or redirecting tax relief to those who’ve been doing it toughest. But the sad truth is, it’s just as much about the two big parties using tax promises and tax scares to damage the other side and win elections.

The great lament coming from the big end of town is that the latest squabbles just go to show how, between them, the two sides have no interest in achieving the major tax reform the country so desperately needs.

And big business is right. The pollies have no interest in proposing any needed but controversial change that would leave them open to cheap shots from the other side. In consequence, our tax system is deteriorating. It’s neither as fair as it should be, nor as effective in raising the money needed to pay for the ever-growing list of services we demand of government.

But before I elaborate, note this: business people, like many of us, use the word “reform” to mean changing the system in a way that leaves them paying less tax while others pay more. Specifically, they want to increase the goods and services tax so that we can afford to reduce the rate of company tax and the income tax paid by people at the top. When they call for “genuine reform” after Labor has halved the intended tax cuts for top earners, that’s what the bosses are on about.

But don’t forget this: Anthony Albanese has gone for the best part of two years happy to let these greatly unfair tax cuts proceed rather than be condemned as a promise-breaker. Only in the past week or three has he changed his tune.

Why? Because party polling and focus group feedback told him all the cost-of-living pain had finally caught up with him. His popularity had slumped, and he was in danger of losing next year’s election, with the rot starting at a Victorian byelection in a month or so’s time.

But while I’m casting aspersions, I have little doubt that, had Albanese allowed the stage 3 cuts to proceed as already legislated, the first person to point to how badly low- and middle-income earners had been treated would have been Peter Dutton.

These days, tricky politics trumps good policy. And neither side has a monopoly on hypocrisy.

It’s been almost a quarter of a century since our last large-scale, controversial tax reform: John Howard’s introduction of the GST. And that brought him within a whisker of being tossed out. Since then, talk about tax has become the biggest and best political football for the two parties to kick back and forth as they try to gain the advantage in election campaigns.

The Liberals portray themselves as what Dutton called “the party of lower taxes”, while damning Labor as “the party of tax and spend”. Many voters find this easy to believe, and it does have a degree of truth, even though taxes were at their highest as a proportion of gross domestic product in the early noughties under Howard.

The main thing that pushes tax collections up is bracket creep, “the secret tax of inflation”, according to Malcolm Fraser, and collections hit the heights whenever a government, of whatever colour, leaves it too long before giving some of it back in a tax cut.

What’s true is that Labor is more inclined to spend on health and education and all the rest, leaving it under greater pressure to let taxes rise. But, as we saw particularly under Scott Morrison, the Libs are more inclined to underspend on things such as aged care, while allowing waiting lists for non-urgent surgery and at-home aged care packages to build up. You hope the dam doesn’t burst until the others are back in power.

The Libs never propose explicit tax increases before elections but whenever Labor wants to pay for something by cutting back concessions to the better-off, the Libs make a meal of it. When, next time, Labor reacts by promising not to make any tax changes, you give credibility to some groundless rumour that it intends to bring back death duties.

What makes unpopular tax reform even more unlikely is the game of chicken the parties play, which they call “wedging”. I propose some extreme tax change I know the other side won’t like, hoping they’ll oppose it. If they do, I accuse them of being opposed to tax cuts. But they invariably see the trap and refuse to oppose my change. Meaning we often end up with a bad policy going ahead unchallenged.

The original stage 3 was partly intended to swing one for the Liberals’ well-off supporters. But also, to tempt Labor to oppose it, proof positive it was the high-tax party.

But get this: now Labor has broken its promise and made the tax cuts far more politically attractive, the wedge is on the other foot. Should Dutton vote against Labor’s broken promise, he’ll be accused of raising the taxes on “middle Australia”.

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Why all politicians want to use bracket creep to mislead you

Another round of tax cuts; another round of politicians saying tricky things about bracket creep. Whether they’re giving some of it back or letting it rip, our pollies on both sides hope bracket creep remains, as it has long been, their dirty little secret.

The latest is the claim that Anthony Albanese’s changes to the legislated stage 3 tax cuts will, over the next 10 years, cause income tax collections to be $28 billion higher than they would have been.

Anthony Albanese’s tax cut rejig will make them fairer. But we’ll have more bracket creep under Labor than we would had under Scott Morrison.

This figure is from Treasury’s published advice to Treasurer Jim Chalmers. What Treasury hasn’t been honest enough to do, however, is to warn us that its projection is based on a quite unrealistic assumption.

So let me tell you how bracket creep works, in a way the pollies never would.

First, understand that the income tax scale assumes there’s no such thing as inflation. It assumes that every pay rise you get results from a promotion or from moving to a better-paid job.

In which case, it would be fair enough to make you pay a higher proportion of your income in tax. It ignores that most of the pay rises we get merely cover the rise in consumer prices, leaving us no better off in “real” terms.

This would be true even if all of us paid the same flat tax rate of, say, 30 per cent. But it’s even more the case because the tax scale is “progressive”: our income is taxed in slices, with the tax rate on each slice getting progressively higher.

That is, the proportion of our total income paid in tax – our overall average rate of tax – increases as our income increases, for whatever reason.

The justification for having a progressive tax scale is to ensure that those who can afford to cover a higher share of the cost of government pay a lot more than those who can’t. Fair enough.

It’s easy to see how a rise in our income that pushed the last part of that income into a higher tax bracket would increase our average rate of tax. That’s how this phenomenon got the name “bracket creep”.

What’s harder to see is that, though moving to what economists call a higher marginal tax rate is the fastest way to increase your average rate of tax, the mere fact that every pay rise means a greater proportion of your total income is taxed at your (higher) marginal rate will still drag up your average rate. That’s even if you’re not pushed into a higher bracket – say, because you’re already on the top marginal rate.

What all this means is that, for as long as the pollies sit back and do nothing, the presence of any degree of inflation means everyone’s average tax rate keeps rising forever.

The dirty secret is, all pollies like bracket creep because it’s a way of increasing taxes without having to announce it, meaning many people don’t notice.

But obviously, the pollies know they can’t get away with that forever. The standard solution to bracket creep – practised by the US, Canada, Denmark, Sweden and other European countries – is to automatically index all the tax brackets each year, raising them by the rate of inflation.

The Fraser government did this for a couple of years in the 1970s before deciding it wasn’t worth it politically. Because the annual tax cuts it produced were small and automatic, the media and the taxpayers took too little notice of them.

So Malcolm Fraser decided it was smarter politics to delay having tax cuts until you could afford to have a big one. Say, every three years or so. And what about having it before an election – or maybe just after an election?

And, what’s more, why give everyone the same percentage cut in taxes when you could play favourites by cutting tax rates on some slices more that on others?

Why not cut the rates for higher brackets by more than you cut them for lower brackets? This would make the tax scale less progressive, which the better-off would love.

This is the way both sides have played the tax-cut game until then-treasurer Scott Morrison came along in the 2018 budget with his tricky plan to cut tax in three stages over seven years.

Note that having tax cuts only every three years or so means the taxman gets to keep a lot of the proceeds of bracket creep. Your eventual tax cut gives back only some of the extra that bracket creep has taken.

What a tax cut does is lower your average tax rate to somewhere closer to what it was at the time of the previous tax cut. And, of course, the day after your latest tax cut, the bracket-creep machine starts pushing your average tax rate back up again.

Note too, that if, rather than raising each of the tax brackets by the same percentage, the pollies start fiddling with the size of the rates applying to some of the brackets, there’s no guarantee that the bracket creep you lost is related to what you get back.

And the truth is, bracket creep doesn’t hit taxpayers towards the top of the scale proportionately to those towards the bottom. Average tax rates towards the bottom rise more than those at or near the top.

That’s because the brackets are closer together – the tax slices are thinner – near the bottom than they are near the top. And, of course, someone already on the top marginal tax rate can’t ever move to a higher rate.

Got all that? Now we can look at the strange design of the three-stage tax cut treasurer Morrison announced in the budget of May 2018, and at Albanese’s broken promise last week not to change stage 3 of the cuts.

As I’ve written several times, stage 1 – the low- and middle-income tax offset – was terminated, without announcement, in the Morrison government’s last budget before the 2022 election. Labor could have made sure everyone knew this, but chose to stay silent.

The stage 2 tax cuts were small and did little for taxpayers in the bottom half. The stage 3 tax cuts, long planned to start this July, centred on moving to put everyone earning between $45,000 a year and $200,000 a year – about 94 per cent of taxpayers – on a marginal tax rate of 30¢ in the dollar.

This, we were assured, would end bracket creep for good and all. Not true – because, as I’ve explained, there’s more to bracket creep than moving into a higher tax bracket. What is true, however, is that this move would have greatly reduced the extent of bracket creep in future.

Trouble is, moving to this radically less progressive tax scale involved no tax cuts for people at the bottom, and only modest cuts for those in the middle, but massive cuts for people on $180,000 a year and above.

Get it? The bottom half, who have contributed most to the bracket creep now being returned, would get precious little of it back, while the top half would clean up. As we know, Albanese’s rejig will make the tax cuts much less unfair.

However, the drawback is that, in future, we’ll have more bracket creep under Labor’s plan than we would have under Morrison’s. That’s the main reason Treasury projects that, over the next 10 years, the taxman will now collect about $28 billion more than he would have without the latest changes.

Just one problem with this arithmetic. It assumes that future governments could get away with letting bracket creep rip for a whole decade without ever having a tax cut to give some of it back. Yeah, sure.

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Albanese uses tax cuts to ease cost of living pressure - a little

 Having trouble deciding the rights and wrongs of Anthony Albanese’s claim to be changing the stage 3 tax cuts in a way that helps ease cost of living pressure without adding to inflation? The air’s been thick with economists making confusing statements on the topic.

For instance, economists at one bank say any tax cut will add to inflation pressure, but canning the cut would allow the Reserve Bank to lower interest rates by 0.5 per cent. Those at another outfit say Albo’s changes will be inflationary because they involve reducing the tax cuts going to high-income earners (who would have saved more of it) and increasing the tax cuts going to low and middle-income earners (who, being harder up, will spend more of it).

Well, let’s see if I can help you decide what to think of the government’s changes. There are three main ways to decide.

The first is a very popular method: let your preferred party do your thinking for you. If you vote Labor, conclude the change must be a good idea. If you vote Liberal, conclude it must be a terrible betrayal of the nation’s trust.

Second, just as popular method: look yourself up in the government’s “what you save” tax table and see how the change will affect you. If you’ll be better off under Albo’s changes, conclude they’re just what the economy needs. If you’ll be worse off than you would have been under former prime minister Scott Morrison’s original stage 3, conclude it will be an economic disaster.

Third, a rarely used method: try to work out which version would, in all the circumstances, have been best for the nation as a whole, regardless of how you personally would be affected.

Adding to this week’s confusion is that, in principle, Albanese’s goal of reducing cost of living pressures without adding to inflation pressure is a contradiction in terms.

Why? Because increasing the cost of living pressure on households is the very stick the managers of the economy are using to get inflation down. It’s deliberate.

When the economy is growing so strongly that the demand for goods and services is running faster the economy’s ability to supply them, prices keep rising.

So the only quick way economists can think of to stop prices rising so rapidly is to slow demand by throttling people’s ability to keep spending. This makes it harder for businesses to keep whacking up their prices.

This is precisely the reason the Reserve has increased interest rates so greatly: to leave people with mortgages with less money to spend on other things.

The government’s been helping with the squeeze by hanging on to almost all the extra income tax we’ve been paying – including because of bracket creep – and getting the budget into surplus.

A budget surplus means the government is using its taxes to take more spending potential out of the economy than it’s putting back in with its own spending.

Get it? The plan is to fix inflation by making the cost of living squeeze worse, to eventually make it better. Sounds crazy, but it’s true.

Albanese and his Treasurer, Jim Chalmers, know this full well. But so many people are feeling so much pain that they’re threatening to vote against the government, so they had to find a way to ease the pain.

This is a major rejig of the planned tax cuts, to ensure much more of the money goes to low- and middle-income earners – who’ve been hurting most – and much less to the top earners.

But hang on. Treasury expects the budget to return to big deficits in the coming financial year. Why? Because the government long ago legislated for the stage 3 tax cuts, costing a massive $21 billion a year.

Clearly, by easing the cost of living pressure on households, the tax cuts will reduce the downward pressure on prices. So those economists saying the fastest way to get the rate of inflation down would be to abandon the tax cuts are right.

But the cuts have been on the books for so long that this easing of pain coming from the budget has already been taken into account by the Reserve in deciding how much interest rates needed to rise. The tax cuts have also been taken into account in the econocrats’ forecasts of how long it will take to get inflation down.

What hasn’t been accounted for is that so much more of the $21 billion a year will now be going to people far more likely to need to rush out and spend it.

In Treasury’s published advice to the government, it acknowledges that these people have a higher “marginal propensity to consume”, but then asserts that this “will not add to inflationary pressures”.

Sorry, not convinced. What I would accept is that the effect on consumer spending isn’t so big it outweighs the other reasons for Albanese’s changes: the need for greater fairness and to keep a “progressive” income tax scale.

The defenders of the original stage 3 cuts claim that, by putting almost everyone on the same, 30¢-in-the-dollar marginal rate of tax, it would put an end to bracket creep.

Sorry, not true. Despite the name, you don’t literally have to move into a higher bracket to suffer from inflation causing your overall, average rate of tax to creep ever higher over time.

That’s why we can’t just go year after year allowing bracket creep to roll on. That’s why we do need to have a decent tax cut this year.

The original version of stage 3 wouldn’t have ended bracket creep, but would have greatly reduced it. Trouble is, it would have done so in a way that favoured high-income earners at the expense of everyone else. This even though bracket creep hits people lower down harder than those higher up.

On page 8 of its advice to the government, Treasury does a good job of demonstrating that Albanese’s way of returning (some of) the proceeds of bracket creep is much fairer.

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Good policy, values and politics all agree: change the tax cuts

I have no inside info on whether Anthony Albanese will stick to his oft-repeated promise to deliver the stage 3 tax cuts intact on July 1, or change them in some way because the cost-of-living crisis means all bets are off.

 I don’t even know that the measures he’ll discuss at the meeting of Labor’s caucus on Wednesday will be the last word on what we’ll see in the May budget, or on our payslips after July 1.

 I’m paid to say what I think should happen, not to predict what will. So I can tell you this: if Albanese doesn’t initiate belated changes to make the tax cuts fairer and of greater benefit to those who’ve suffered most from the cost of living, it will show he’s lost touch with good policy, Labor’s professed values and even what’s needed to protect his political hide.

 Let’s start from first principles. The longstanding view that our system of taxes and benefits should require those who can best afford it to bear more of the cost of government than those who can least afford it rests on two key policies: a largely means-tested system of government pensions and benefits, and a “progressive” scale of income tax.

 Your income is taxed in slices. The first slice is untaxed, then the rate of tax on subsequent slices gets progressively higher. When you add the slices together, the average rate of tax you pay on the whole of your income is far higher for people on very high incomes than for those on modest incomes.

 As legislated, the stage 3 tax cut would make three changes to the tax scale. It would reduce the rate of tax on the slice of income running from $45,000 a year to $120,000 a year from 32.5c in the dollar to 30c.

 Then it would reduce the rate of tax on the slice running from $120,000 to $180,000 from 37c in the dollar to 30c.

 Finally, it would cut the rate of tax on the slice of income running from $180,000 to $200,000 from 45c in the dollar to 30c. Only the last slice of income, anything above $200,000 a year, would continue to be taxed at the top rate, unchanged at 45c in the dollar.

 Do you see how this would significantly reduce the progressivity of the tax scale? That’s just what Scott Morrison, as treasurer and then prime minister, wanted: to shift the burden of taxation away from high-income earners and on to everyone lower down.

 It’s the sort of policy you might expect from a Liberal government, but one Labor has always claimed to oppose. It initially opposed stage 3, but later changed to quietly supporting it, for fear of being branded as high-taxing by its opponents.

 If Albanese doesn’t seize this chance to make the tax cuts fairer, he’ll be remembered as the prime minister who struck the greatest blow in cutting taxes for the rich. The man who did what ScoMo couldn’t.

 Albanese has claimed that stage 3 will deliver tax cuts for everyone earning more than $45,000 a year. That’s true. Someone on $50,000 will have their average rate of tax reduced by 0.25c in the dollar, yielding a saving of $2.40 a week. Wow.

 To get a weekly saving of more than $20 a week – not a lot if you’re struggling with much higher rent or mortgage interest rates – you have to be earning more than $90,000.

 Only if your income is $120,000 will your average rate of tax be cut by 1.6c in the dollar, saving you $36 a week. At $180,000 your average rate falls by 3.4c in the dollar, saving you $117 a week. Not bad.

 But if you’re struggling on $200,000, your average tax rate falls by 4.5c in the dollar, and you save almost $175 a week. 

 According to calculations prepared by the Parliamentary Budget Office for the Greens, as they stand, the stage 3 cuts will cost the budget almost $21 billion a year. Of that, people earning less than $45,000 a year get nothing, and those earning between $45,000 and $60,000 would get less than 2 per cent of the benefit.

 The large number of people earning between $120,000 and $180,000 would get about 30 per cent of the benefit, while the relatively small number earning more than $180,000 get 44 per cent.

 It’s been said by some that rejigging the tax cuts so that more of the money went to the low- and middle-income earners who’ve been hit the hardest by the cost of living – and bracket creep – would be inflationary because they’d spend more of any tax cut than would the well-off.

 True, but not a good enough reason to distort the tax system and keep beating ordinary families into the ground.

 As it stands, stage 3 hugely benefits a minority of voters, most of whom are unlikely to vote Labor. If Albo can’t convince most voters he broke his promise because they needed a break, he ought to get out of politics.

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Albo's economic report card: Must try harder on energy transition

Can Anthony Albanese’s government walk and chew gum at the same time? Should be able to, provided it stops trying to work both sides of the street.

As I wrote on Wednesday, the most urgent economic and political issue facing the government is the cost-of-living crisis.

But let’s get real. Everyone may be up in arms about the cost of living, but fixing it is standard stuff for the managers of the economy. We can be sure it will be fixed soon enough.

As we know from our own lives, we often let the urgent take priority over the more important, and that’s what this government has been doing.

What could be more important than easing my cost-of-living pain? All the different kinds of pain – the heatwaves, droughts, bushfires, floods and cyclones – that are coming our way unless the world does what’s needed to stop further global warming.

A big achievement at last year’s federal election was to get rid of a government of closet climate-change deniers only pretending to want to do something, and replace it with a government that did accept the scientists’ advice and did want to act on it.

But although Climate Change and Energy Minister Chris Bowen has been busy setting up the frameworks for reducing greenhouse gas emissions – fixing the “safeguard mechanism”, producing a hydrogen strategy and developing a critical minerals strategy, and, last month, announcing a scheme to underwrite the risk of investing in new renewable energy generation and storage – few new projects have begun or are in the offing.

That’s the trouble: actual progress is happening too slowly. Albanese’s game plan for this term seems to be softly, softly catchee monkey. Make sure you don’t offend any powerful interests, get comfortably re-elected and then think about getting tough.

There’s not enough sense of urgency. The longer it takes us to make the transition to renewable energy the more pain we’ll suffer in the process.

The Grattan Institute’s energy and climate change expert, Tony Wood, wants us to realise that this transition will be harder than anything we’ve had to achieve outside of wartime.

“We must manage the decline of the fossil fuel extractive sectors, transform every aspect of our energy and transport sectors, re-industrialise much of manufacturing, and find solutions to difficult problems in agriculture,” Wood says.

Note that the challenge comes in two parts. First, make the domestic shift from fossil fuels to renewables. Second – since the world will soon enough no longer want to buy our massive exports of coal and gas – find something else we can sell abroad.

Get it? If we don’t want to become a lot poorer, we’ve got to get weaving. Labor does get that to secure our future we must seize this limited-time opportunity to turn Australia into a renewable energy superpower.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers will tell you the government has already invested about $3 billion in the superpower project. But, again, we’re being too slow in getting on with it.

Nothing Australia can do by itself will halt climate change. That will take concerted, decisive action by all the big carbon-emitting nations. That will happen eventually, even if happens too late to prevent a lot more warming.

So, if we don’t mind being lasting losers from the eventual transition – the country that used to make a good living as an energy exporter – we can stay as laggards, waiting for America, China and Europe to do the heavy lifting.

If we want to stay winners, however, we have to get ahead of the others. We have to get to net-zero emissions before everyone else. We have to build a renewables industry so big it can meet our domestic needs, with at least as much energy to spare for export to countries less well-placed than us.

Most of our exported renewable energy would be “embodied” in green steel, green aluminium and other resources. This would be all to the good, allowing us to set up new manufacturing industries to further process our resources before selling them.

To achieve this unprecedented transformation will involve the government leading the way, funding research on how basic science can be commercialised, funding pilot projects, and reducing the risks for investors in renewables and storage.

This is challenging stuff for conventionally trained economists. They’re used to telling governments to let private firms pursue our “comparative advantage” by exploiting the nation’s “natural endowment”. They tell politicians never to try to “pick winners”.

But these are unprecedented times. Global warming has just torn up our comparative advantage in mining, rendering our natural endowment of huge remaining stocks of fossil fuels of little future value.

As Professor Ross Garnaut was the first to point out, however, in the new world where renewable energy is king, part of our natural endowment we formerly thought to be of little value is now our comparative advantage: relative to other countries, we have abundant supplies of sun and wind.

But waiting for private enterprise to turn our industrial structure on its head without government leadership is delusional. And, as we ought to have learnt by now, if you dissuade governments from picking winners, they end up backing losers: helping firms and workers who did well in the old world try to stop the clock.

That’s what’s wrong with the government’s softly, softly, all-things-to-all-persons approach to climate change. It’s working both sides of the street, taking an each-way bet: encouraging the move to renewables while retaining fossil fuel subsidies and allowing investment in new coal mines and gas projects.

It says a lot about the discombobulation of conventional economists that none of them beat the Australia Institute’s Dr Richard Denniss to pointing out the obvious: taking an each-way bet flies in the face of opportunity cost.

Allowing the established players to continue investing in fossil fuels deters them from investing in renewables. It also allows them to bid scarce skilled labour away from renewables and from rejigging the electricity grid. Sorry, the government must try harder.

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With luck, we’ll escape recession next year, but it will feel like one

What we’ve come to call the “cost-of-living crisis” has made this an unusually tough year for many people as they struggle to make ends meet. It’s likely to get worse rather than better next year. Which won’t help Anthony Albanese’s chances of being comfortably returned to government in early 2025.

Everyone hates rapidly rising prices and demands the government do something. But I’m not sure everyone understands the paradoxical nature of the usual ways central banks and governments go about fixing the problem. They make it worse to make it make better.

In a market economy, when our demand for goods and services exceeds the economy’s ability to supply them, businesses solve the problem by putting up their prices. The economic managers then seek to weaken our demand by squeezing households’ finances so that they can’t spend as much.

As our spending weakens, firms are less able to keep raising their prices without losing sales.

The main way the Reserve Bank puts the squeeze on household spending is by engineering a rise in mortgage interest payments, leaving people with less money to spend on everything else.

A shortage of rental housing has allowed landlords to make big rent increases. Employers have helped the squeeze by ensuring they raise wages by less than they’ve raised their prices. And Treasurer Jim Chalmers has helped by allowing bracket creep to take a bigger tax bite out of wage increases.

All this is why so many people have been feeling the financial heat this year. But even if there are no more interest rate rises to come, the existing pressures are still working their way through the economy, with little sign of relief.

Consumer prices rose by 7.8 per cent over the year to last December, but the annual rate of increase slowed to 5.4 per cent in September. That’s still well above the Reserve’s target of 2 per cent to 3 per cent.

If the Reserve has accidentally hit the economy harder than intended, we could slip into recession next year, causing a big jump in the number of people out of a job, and thus hitting them much harder.

But with any luck, it won’t come to that. And the crazy-lazy way the media define recession – a fall in real gross domestic product in two successive quarters – means that growth in the population may conceal the hip-pocket pain many people are feeling.

Consider the case of someone on the very modest wage of $45,000 a year in September 2021. If their wage rose in line with the wage price index, it would have risen by $3300 to $48,300 in September this year.

However, bracket creep, plus the discontinuation of the low and middle income tax offset, raised the average rate of income tax they pay from 9.8¢ in the dollar to 14.2¢. So their tax bill would have grown by $2460.

Now allow for the rise in consumer prices over the two years, and the purchasing power of their disposable income has fallen by about $5290, meaning their “real” disposable income is $4450 a year less than it used to be.

Can you imagine that person being terribly happy with the way their finances have fared under the Albanese government? My guess is, there’ll be growing disaffection with Labor as next year progresses.

To help him win last year’s federal election, Albanese made Labor a “small target” by promising very little change, including no change to the stage three income tax cuts, legislated long before the pandemic, to start in July next year.

His game plan had been to spend his first term being steady and sensible, keeping his promises and being an “economically responsible” government. This would get him re-elected with an increased majority and able to implement needed but controversial reforms.

But, through no great fault of his own, he’s had to grapple with the worst surge in the cost of living in decades. If there’s a low-pain way to get inflation back under control, I’ve yet to hear about it.

The trouble set in well before the change of government, and the Reserve Bank began its long series of interest rate rises during the election campaign.

My guess is that Albanese’s hopes of storming back to power at an election due by May 2025 are dashed. But it’s hard to see Peter Dutton winning the election unless he can win back the Liberal heartland seats that went to the teals, which seems doubtful.

So, it’s not hard to see Albanese losing seats and reduced to minority government, dependent on the support of the Greens and teals.

There is, however, one thing he could do to cheer up many voters: rejig the coming tax cuts so the lion’s share of the $25 billion they’ll cost the budget goes not to the high-income taxpayers who’ve had the least trouble coping with living costs, but to those on lower incomes who’ve the most.

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How full employment has changed the economy

This may be the first time you’ve watched the managers of the economy using high interest rates and a tighter budget to throttle demand to get inflation down. But if it isn’t your first, have you noticed how much harder they’re finding it to catch the raging bull?

It explains why both the previous and the new Reserve Bank governor have been so twitchy. How, after they seem to have made as many interest rate rises as they thought they needed, they keep coming back for another one.

The economy isn’t working the way it used to. Have you noticed that, although consumer spending stopped dead in the September quarter, and overall growth in the economy slowed to a microscopic 0.2 per cent, there’s been so little weakness in the jobs market?

Although there’s no doubt about how hard most households have been squeezed over the course of this year, how come the rate of unemployment has risen only marginally from 3.5 per cent to a still-far-below-average 3.9 per cent in November?

And if the economy’s been slowing for the whole of this year, how come the budget balance is getting better rather than worse, with Treasurer Jim Chalmers achieving a surplus last financial year and hoping for another in the year to next June?

There are lots of particular things that help explain these surprising results – world commodity prices have stayed high; some parts of the economy change earlier than others – but there’s one, more fundamental factor that towers over all the others: this is the first time in 50 years that we’ve been trying to slow a runaway economy that’s reached anything like full employment.

It turns out that throttling an economy that’s fully employed is much harder to do. Households are more resilient and, after a period when it’s been hard to get hold of all the workers they need, businesses have been far less inclined to add to the slowdown by shedding staff.

Remember that we reached full employment by happy accident. Between the unco-ordinated stimulus of state as well as federal governments, plus the Reserve cutting rates to near-zero, we (like many other rich economies) hit the accelerator far too hard during the pandemic.

This was apparent after the pandemic had eased and before the Morrison government’s final budget in March last year. But there was no way Scott Morrison was going to hit the budget brakes just before an election.

So the econocrats in the Reserve and Treasury resigned themselves to second prize: an unemployment rate much lower than what they were used to and felt comfortable with.

Because the pandemic had also caused us to close our borders and thus block employers’ access to skilled and unskilled immigrant labour, the econocrats got far more than they expected: unemployment so low we hit full employment.

The jobs market is getting less tight, with the number of job vacancies having fallen a long way, but last week’s figures for November showed how strong the labour market remains.

Sure, unemployment rose a fraction to 3.9 per cent, but this is no higher than it was in May last year. And the month saw total employment actually grow, by more than a remarkable 61,000 jobs during the month.

After all this slowing and all this pain, the rate at which people of working age are participating in the labour force by either having a job or actively seeking one has reached a record high.

And almost 65 per cent of the working-age population has a job – a proportion that’s never been higher in Australia’s history.

Employment is still growing strongly, partly because of the rebound in immigration, with foreign students in particular filling part-time job vacancies.

But also, it seems, because more hard-pressed families are trying to make ends meet by taking second jobs. In past downturns, those jobs wouldn’t have been there to be taken.

To force households to spend less, they’re being hit with three sticks. Obviously, by raising mortgage interest rates. Also by employers, taken as a group, raising the wages they pay by less than they’ve raised their prices (have you noticed how Chalmers avoids referring to the cut in real wages by just blaming “inflation”?).

And, third, by the government allowing bracket creep to take a bigger bite out of what pay rises the workers do manage to get.

But there’s another factor that’s been working in the opposite direction, adding to households’ ability to keep spending: over the year to November, the number of people with jobs rose by more than 440,000. That’s a full-employment economy.

All the extra people with jobs pay income tax. All the part-time workers able to get more hours pay more tax. All the people getting second jobs pay more tax. Add the bigger bite out of pay rises, and you see why Chalmers’ budget’s so flush.

But note this: the many benefits of full employment come at a cost – “opportunity cost”. As a coming paper by Matt Saunders and Dr Richard Denniss of the Australia Institute will remind us, “opportunity cost makes it clear that when resources are used for one purpose, they become unavailable for other purposes”.

So when we’re at or close to full employment, any developer, business executive or politician seeking our support for any project because “it will create jobs” should be laughed at. Where will the workers come from to fill the jobs? You’ll have to pinch them from some other employer.

This is especially true when the jobs you want to create are for workers with specialist skills.

According to a federal government report, in October last year there were 83 major resource and energy projects at the committed stage, worth $83 billion. But about two thirds of these were for the development of fossil fuels, including the expansion of nearby ports.

Really? And this at a time when the electricity grid needs urgent reconfiguration as part of our move to a low-carbon economy, but projects are being deferred because you can’t get the workers?

As Saunders and Denniss conclude, “With rapid population growth and the stated need to transform our energy system, the real cost of spending tens of billions of dollars building new gas and coal projects is the lost opportunity to invest in the infrastructure and energy transformation the Australian economy needs.”

I think Jim Chalmers needs to explain the iron law of opportunity cost to his boss. And make sure Climate Change and Energy Minister Chris Bowen’s in the meeting.

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Chalmers finds a better way to get inflation down: fix the budget

There’s an important point to learn from this week’s mid-(financial)-year’s budget update: in the economy, as in life, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

The big news is that, after turning last year’s previously expected budget deficit into a surplus of $22 billion – our first surplus in 15 years – Treasurer Jim Chalmers is now expecting this financial year’s budget deficit to be $1.1 billion, not the $13.9 billion he was expecting at budget time seven months’ ago.

Now, though $1.1 billion is an unimaginably huge sum to you and me, in an economy of our size it’s a drop in the ocean. Compared with gross domestic product – the nominal value of all the goods and services we expect to produce in 2023-24 – it rounds to 0.0 per cent.

So, for practical purposes, it would be a balanced budget. And as Chalmers says, it’s “within striking distance” of another budget surplus.

This means that, compared with the prospects for the budget we were told about before the federal election in May last year, Chalmers and Finance Minister Katy Gallagher have made huge strides in reducing the government’s “debt and deficit”. Yay!

But here’s the point. We live in the age of “central bankism”, where we’ve convinced ourselves that pretty much the only way to steer the economy between the Scylla of high inflation and the Charybdis of high unemployment is to whack interest rates up or down, AKA monetary policy.

It ain’t true. Which means Chalmers may be right to avoid including in the budget update any further measures to relieve cost-of-living pressures and, rather, give top priority to improving the budget balance, thereby increasing the downward pressure on inflation.

The fact is, we’ve always had two tools or instruments the managers of the economy can use to smooth its path through the ups and downs of the business cycle, avoiding both high unemployment and high inflation. One is monetary policy – the manipulation of interest rates – but the other is fiscal policy, the manipulation of government spending and taxation via the budget.

This year we’ve been reminded how unsatisfactory interest rates are as a way of trying to slow inflation. Monetary policy puts people with big mortgages through the wringer, but lets the rest of us off lightly. This is both unfair and inefficient.

Which is why we should make much more use of the budget to fight inflation. That’s what Chalmers is doing. The more we use the budget, the less the Reserve Bank needs to raise interest rates. This spreads the pain more evenly – to the two-thirds of households that don’t have mortgages – which should be both fairer and more effective.

Starting at the beginning, in a market economy prices are set by the interaction of supply and demand: how much producers and distributors want to be paid to sell you their goods and services, versus how much consumers are willing and able to pay for them.

The rapid rise in consumer prices we saw last year came partly from disruptions to supply caused by the pandemic and the Ukraine war. There’s nothing higher interest rates can do to fix supply problems and, in any case, they’re gradually going away.

But another cause of the jump in prices was strong demand for goods and services, arising from all the stimulus the federal and state governments applied during the pandemic, not to mention the Reserve’s near-zero interest rates.

Since few people were out of job for long, this excessive stimulus left many workers and small business people with lots to spend. And when demand exceeded supply, businesses did what came naturally and raised their prices.

How do you counter demand-driven inflation? By making it much harder for people to keep spending so strongly. Greatly increasing how much people have to pay on their mortgages each month leaves them with much less to spend on other things.

Then, as demand for their products falls back, businesses stop increasing their prices and may even start offering discounts.

But governments can achieve the same squeeze on households by stopping their budgets putting more money into the economy than they’re taking out in taxes. When they run budget surpluses by taking more tax out of the economy than they put back in government spending, they squeeze households even tighter.

So that’s the logic Chalmers is following in eliminating the budget deficit and aiming for surpluses to keep downward pressure on prices. This has the secondary benefit of getting the government’s finances back in shape.

But how has the budget balance improved so much while Chalmers has been in charge? Not so much by anything he’s done as by what he hasn’t.

The government’s tax collections have grown much more strongly than anyone expected. Chalmers and his boss, Anthony Albanese, have resisted the temptation to spend much of this extra moolah.

The prices of our commodity exports have stayed high, causing mining companies to pay more tax. And the economy has grown more strongly than expected, allowing other businesses to raise their prices, increase their profits and pay more tax.

More people have got jobs and paid tax on their wages, while higher consumer prices have meant bigger wage rises for existing workers, pushing them into higher tax brackets.

This is the budget’s “automatic stabilisers” responding to strong growth in the economy by increasing tax collections and improving the budget balance, which acts as a brake on strong demand for goods and services.

There’s just one problem. Chalmers has joined the anti-inflation drive very late in the piece. The Reserve has already raised interest rates a long way, with much of the dampening effect still to flow through and weaken demand to the point where inflation pressure falls back to the 2 per cent to 3 per cent target.

We just have to hope that, between Reserve governor Michele Bullock’s monetary tightening and Chalmers’ fiscal tightening, they haven’t hit the economy much harder than they needed to.

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Why populism hasn't taken off in Australia

One good thing about taking a break from work is that it gives you time to let your mind wander from all the pressing concerns of our fast-moving world – the preoccupation with this “crisis” and that “crisis” – to less immediate but more important problems. And it helps if you’ve used the time to read a good book or two.

On my recent long break – soon to be followed, I fear, by my summer holiday – I read The Crisis of Democratic Capitalism, by Martin Wolf. Wolf is the chief economics commentator of the Financial Times in London, and the global doyen of my tiny profession of economics editors.

Wolf has two worries. Democracy isn’t working well and neither is capitalism.

He sees many signs that faith in democracy is declining and voters are turning to authoritarian demagogues peddling populist solutions to difficult problems.

You can see that in the election of Donald Trump and the even more remarkable possibility that this self-serving con man could be given another turn at the wheel. You see it in Britain’s self-harming decision to leave the European Union.

And you see the rise of right-wing populism in an ever-growing number of European countries – from Hungary to the Netherlands, not to mention in South America – much of it involving resentment of immigrants, particularly Muslims, and the search for scapegoats.

Turning to capitalism, there is much dissatisfaction with the evident failure of “neoliberalism” – the doctrine that less government and more freedom for business is the path to prosperity.

The privatisation of government-owned businesses has often made things worse rather than better. The contracting of private businesses to provide government services hasn’t helped. Nor has the use of private consultants rather than the public service.

Wolf argues that the poor performance of the economy is the main explanation for the rise of populism in the rich democracies.

The global financial crisis of 2008 led to much disillusionment. Particularly in America, deregulation of the banks left them free to make many bad loans, but when the house of cards collapsed and plunged the advanced economies into the Great Recession, billions of taxpayers’ dollars had to be used to bail out the banks, but the bankers escaped unpunished.

Leaving aside the temporary disruption of the pandemic, the advanced economies have never since returned to healthy growth and rising living standards.

Then there’s globalisation. It has moved much manufacturing activity from America and Europe to China and other Asian countries, to the great benefit of consumers of manufactured goods throughout the rich world.

It lifted many millions of workers out of poverty in Asia, while robbing many American workers of their well-paid jobs in manufacturing.

Governments could easily have used their budgets to require those of us who benefited from cheaper cars, clothing and all the rest to compensate and help those who lost their jobs but, in the era of neoliberalism, they didn’t bother.

It was the decisions of the former blue-collar workers of the rust belt states to move their votes from Democrat to Trump that pushed him across the line in 2016.

Wolf says, “people expect the economy to deliver reasonable levels of prosperity and opportunity to themselves and their children”. When it doesn’t fulfil those expectations “they become frustrated and resentful”.

“Instead ... it has generated soaring inequality, dead-end jobs and [economic] instability.”

Whether you look at politics or the economy you see we’re moving to a plutocracy – government by the rich and powerful. You see powerful – but often harmful – industries buying favourable treatment with generous donations to political parties.

And you see the way our chief executive class has increased its remuneration out of all comparison, while holding down the wages of their fellow employees.

But Wolf’s story applies more fully to America, Britain and Europe than it does to us. While it’s true that living standards in Australia have hardly risen for the past decade, things here haven’t been as bad.

Our one great would-be populist saviour, Pauline Hanson, hasn’t got far. Our two big parties’ problems have been with the Greens and teals.

And while our incomes have become more unequal over the decades, they haven’t worsened much in the past two decades – except at the very top.

Part of that lack of deterioration is owed to our system of regularly – and fairly generously – increasing minimum award wages.

Another saviour has been the Labor governments’ umbilical cord to the union movement, something not matched by America’s Democrats.

Anthony Albanese hasn’t seemed terribly brave on many issues, but last week he pressed on with closing the legal loopholes employers have long been using to chisel their workers, against ferocious opposition from the (big) Business Council, the Mining Council and the employer groups.

According to them, Labor’s changes will destroy many jobs and kill the economy. Don’t stay up waiting for it to happen.

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Why it's doubtful we need another interest rate rise

There’s nothing the media likes more than an interest rate rise on Melbourne Cup day. It’s surprising how often it’s happened, and many in the financial markets have convinced themselves that’s what we’ll get next Tuesday. And the good news is that, despite the radical reform of moving to a mere eight board meetings a year, the Reserve Bank has ensured that meetings on cup day will continue.

What I’m not sure of is whether, if we do get a rate rise next week, it will be happening by accident or design. In central banking, getting your timing right is just as important as it is in a comedy routine.

It was no surprise last week when new Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock used her first big speech to make sure everyone noticed her bulging anti-inflation muscles. “There are risks that could see inflation return to target more slowly than currently forecast,” she warned.

“The board will not hesitate to raise the cash rate further if there is a material upward revision to the outlook for inflation,” she said. She added some qualifications but, predictably, neither the markets nor the media took much notice of them.

Any new governor would have said the same in their first speech. Trouble is, her tough statement about not being willing to return to the 2 to 3 per cent inflation target “more slowly than currently forecast” came just the day before publication of the consumer price index for the September quarter.

And while it showed the annual rate of inflation continuing to fall from its peak of 7.8 per cent at the end of last year to 5.4 per cent nine months later, it also showed the quarterly inflation figure rising from 0.8 per cent to 1.2 per cent.

This was 0.2 percentage points or so higher than the markets – and, they calculate, the Reserve – were expecting. Bingo! Rate rise a dead cert. All the big four banks are laying their bets accordingly.

But the main reason for the slightly higher number was a rise in petrol prices, which contributed 0.25 percentage points of the 1.2 per cent. This rise comes from insufficient supply: the higher world price of oil, forced up the OPEC oil cartel and others trying to increase the price by restricting their supply.

It does not come from excessive Australian demand – which is the one factor the Reserve can moderate by increasing interest rates. Similarly, the next-biggest price increases, for newly-built homes (imported building materials), rents (surge in immigration) and electricity (Ukraine war) aren’t caused by anything a rate rise can fix.

So I think the case for yet another rate rise is weak. As Bullock clearly demonstrated elsewhere in her speech, the Reserve’s single, crude instrument, raising interest rates, delivers most of its punishment to the quarter or so of households with big mortgages.

Too many of these people are really hurting, and the full hurt from rate rises already made has yet to be felt. The economy is slowing, consumer spending is hardly growing, real income per person is falling.

And, as Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy noted in a speech last week, last financial year’s budget surplus of $22 billion shows the budget’s “automatic stabilisers” are working hard to help the Reserve restrain demand – a truth that’s been completely missing from the Reserve’s commentary. That’s gratitude for you.

But if, having thought hard about such a small change to the “outlook for inflation”, Bullock decides a further rate rise isn’t warranted, what are the money market punters (and I do mean people making bets) going to think, considering all her chest-beating? That she speaks big but carries a soft stick?

There are a few things she – and her urgers in the financial markets (most of whom have never in their lives had reason to worry about the cost of living) – need to remember.

First, at this late stage in the game, we really are into fine-tuning. And acting because a revised forecast means we’ll return to target later than we had expected suggests you’ve forgotten what every governor needs always to remember: as with all economists, the Reserve’s forecasts are more likely to be wrong than right.

They can be wrong by a lot or wrong by a little. Worst, they can prove too optimistic or too pessimistic. If your previous forecast was wrong, what makes you so sure your next one will be right? When it comes to forecasts, the person making the actual decisions needs to be the biggest sceptic.

Second, the Reserve’s previous forecast was for inflation to be back to the top of the target range by the first half of 2025. If its latest forecast pushes that out to the second half, what’s so terrible about that? How much extra pain for young people with huge mortgages does that justify?

Ah, says the Reserve, the reason we can’t wait too long to get inflation back to target is that, the longer we leave it, the greater the risk that business’ and workers’ expected rate of inflation rises above the target range.

If that happened, we’d need much higher interest rates and much more pain to get expectations back down to the only range we’ve decided is acceptable.

This is true in principle but, in practice, it’s mere speculation. The fact is, the world’s central bankers have no hard evidence on how long it takes for inflation expectations to adjust – a few years or a few decades.

I’m old enough to remember that when inflation returned, in the late-1960s and early-’70s, it took a decade or two for expectations to adjust. The smarties used to advise youngsters to borrow as much as anyone would lend them. Why? Because real interest rates were negative.

But when a decade or two of tough inflation fighting eventually got expectations down to what became the target range, after the recession of the early ’90s, they’ve shown zero sign of moving for 30 years. Not even during the present inflation surge.

So when nervous-nelly governors decide to err on the safe side, they’re deciding to beat young home buyers even further into the ground. Either sell your house or starve your kids.

Finally, in her answers to questions last week, Bullock implied that the risk of rising inflation expectations was now so great that the Reserve could no longer afford the nicety of distinguishing between supply-side shocks and price rises driven by excessive demand.

Whatever the cause, continuing delay in getting inflation back to target presented such a threat to expectations that rates would have to keep rising regardless.

This means that if our return to target is delayed by supply-side problems – mismatches in the transition to renewable energy, leaps in meat and veg prices caused by extreme weather, or higher oil prices caused by worsening conflict in the Middle East – the home buyers cop it.

In this era of continuing supply shocks, failure to distinguish between the causes of price rises would be a recipe for deep recession. The Reserve’s professed “dual mandate” – full employment – would be out the window.

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