You may think the media is full of the argy-bargy of politics, full to saturation point. There is, however, a level of politics we rarely hear about. You may not have noticed, but it raised its ugly head at the time of the budget earlier this month.
One sign was the anger, almost outrage, of the big banks when, on budget night, Scott Morrison surprised them by announcing a small new tax on them. Why weren't we consulted about this, they shouted.
Just a few days earlier, Education Minister Simon Birmingham surprised us by announcing the government's conversion to needs-based federal grants to schools, a la St David of Gonski.
The Catholic school authorities were deeply saddened. Birmingham's plan was to gradually unwind decades of special sectarian deals, the most recent of which had been made with the previous Labor government.
Why in Heaven's Name weren't we consulted before this unholy decision was made public, they cried.
When I heard both interest groups making their loud complaints I reacted the same way. Who the hell do these guys think they are?
You and I don't expect to be consulted before governments announce their policy decisions, so what gives these people the right to special treatment?
Well, I'll tell you: it's because that's the way they're used to being treated. Governments are considering making changes affecting a powerful and vocal interest group, so they – and more particularly, the top bureaucrats in the relevant government department – engage in private discussions with industry leaders and lobbyists.
If Birmingham decided on a new school funding arrangement without consulting the most-affected interest groups, it must have been because he knew they'd move heaven and earth in their efforts to ensure it didn't happen.
And, come to think of it, it's not all that unusual for new tax measures to be announced in the budget without prior consultation. You could justify this as necessary to ensure people aren't able to profit from inside information.
But I suspect it happens also because Treasury likes it that way. In the annual preparation for the budget, which goes on for months, Treasury ensures decisions about tax changes are made just days before budget night. That way, there's no time to consult and no time for ministers to be dissuaded from acting.
So the consultation happens after the move has been announced, when the government would lose face if it backed down too far.
Indeed, major tax and policy changes are invariably put into an industry consultation phase before being legislated. You can justify this practice by saying the world's become a complicated place and that the affected industry will always have an understanding of the practicalities of implementation that's superior to the bureaucrats'.
But there's more to it. I think industry representatives are routinely consulted on policy matters affecting them because, in practice, elected governments have come to share their power with a multitude of lobby groups.
You and I don't see the huge extent of contact that occurs between peak industry groups, consultant lobbyists and visiting executives, on one hand, and ministers, parliamentarians and bureaucrats on the other.
Indeed, we non-Canberrans don't realise the extent to which lobbying has become that city's second-biggest industry. That's particularly so if you include Canberra's small army of economic consultants, who earn their living by concocting "independent" modelling which, purely by chance, always seems to prove their clients' case.
And that's not counting the big four accounting firms which, when they're not doing "independent" modelling for the small fee, give extensive – and no doubt expensive – consulting advice on policy questions to government departments.
Why do they need such advice? Why is policy expertise moving from the public service to outside consultants? Because the yearly imposition of "efficiency dividends" on government departments means they keep getting rid of their policy experts. The words "false economy" spring to mind.
For an idea of just how big the lobbying industry has become, consider this. Buried in the budget was an announcement that the government had accepted the recommendations of a review of the financial system's arrangements for resolving external disputes.
Some lobby groups were unhappy with this decision, so last week they issued a press release saying so. It was issued in the name of six industry groups: the Mortgage and Finance Association of Australia, the Customer Owned Banking Association, the Australian Collectors & Debt Buyers Association, the Association of Securities and Derivatives Advisers of Australia, the Australian Timeshare and Holiday Ownership Council, and the Association of Independently Owned Financial Professionals (each with their own logo).
But if all the industry groups and other lobbyists did was issue press releases there would be little to worry about. Lobbying in public is just the tip of the iceberg. What matters is all the private contact with bureaucrats, ministers and politicians, particularly crossbench senators, we know nothing about.
Late last year I wrote prematurely about an eye-opening book by Dr Cameron Murray and Professor Paul Frijters, Game of Mates, which has finally been published.
The book reminds us that one way moneyed interests gain influence in the halls of power is by rewarding co-operative senior bureaucrats and politicians with post-retirement patronage. You too could be gamekeeper-turned-lobbyist.
