How party politicking let mining companies wreck our economy

A speech by former Treasury secretary Dr Ken Henry last month was reported as a great call for comprehensive tax reform. But it was also something much more disturbing: an entirely different perspective on why our economy has been weak for most of this century and – once the present pandemic-related surge has passed – is likely to stay weak.

The nation’s economists have been arguing for years about why the economy has grown so slowly, why real wages have been stagnant for at least a decade, why the rate of productivity improvement is so low and why business investment spending has been so little for so long.

Most economists think we’ve just been caught up in the “secular stagnation” – or slow-growth trap – that all the advanced economies are enduring.

But Henry has a very different answer, one that’s peculiar to Australia. Unlike everyone else, he’s viewing our economy from a different perspective, the viewpoint of our “external sector” – our economic dealings with the rest of the world.

What conclusion does he come to? We’ve allowed ourselves to catch a bad case of what economists call “Dutch disease” – but Henry thinks should be renamed Old and New Holland disease.

When a country discovers huge reserves of oil or gas off its coast – or, in our case, the industrialisation of China causes the prices of coal and iron ore to skyrocket – all the locals think they’ve won the lottery and all the other countries are envious. Now we’ll be on easy street.

But when the Dutch had such an experience in the 1960s, they eventually discovered that, while it was great for their mining industry, it was hell for all their other trade-exposed industries.

Why? Because the inflow of foreign financial capital to build the new industry and the outflow of hugely valuable commodity exports send the exchange rate sky-high, which wrecks the international price competitiveness of all your other export and import-competing industries: manufacturing, farming and services.

Not only that. The rapidly expanding mining industry attracts labour and capital away from the other industries, bidding up their costs. Their sales are down, but their costs are up. You’re left with a “two-speed economy”. Remember that phrase? It’s what we’ve had for a decade or two.

Well, interesting theory, but where’s Henry’s evidence that Dutch disease is at the heart of our problems over recent decades?

He’s got heaps. Start with the way the composition of our exports has changed. Between 2005 and today, and in round figures, mining’s share of our total exports has doubled from 30 per cent to 60 per cent. Manufacturing’s share has fallen from 40 per cent to 20 per cent. Everything else – mainly agriculture and services – has fallen from 30 per cent to 20 per cent.

Over the same period, exports grew from 20 per cent of gross domestic product to 27 per cent. This means mining exports’ share of GDP has gone from about 6 per cent to more than 16 per cent. Manufacturing exports’ share has fallen from about 8 per cent to 5.5 per cent.

Next, who buys our exports? China’s share has gone from about 10 per cent to more than 45 per cent. Actually, that was the peak it reached before China’s imposition of restrictions after some smart pollie decided it would be a great idea for Australia to lead the charge of countries blaming China for COVID. Since then, China’s share has fallen to 30 per cent.

Since 2005, mining’s share of total company profits has gone from about 20 per cent to 50 per cent. Manufacturing’s share has fallen from about 20 per cent to less than 10 per cent. Financial services – banking and insurance – have seen their share fall from 20 per cent to less than 5 per cent.

Now, what’s happened to those industries’ share of total employment? Manufacturing’s share has fallen from more than 9 per cent to about 6 per cent. Financial services’ share has been steady at a bit over 3 per cent. Mining’s share has risen from less than 1 per cent to 1.5 per cent. You beauty.

“In summary,” Henry says, “mining employs a very small proportion of the Australian workforce – except in the boom times, when it induces a worker to leave other jobs for mine-site construction work – generates about 60 per cent of Australia’s exports, about half of pre-tax profits (mostly repatriated overseas to foreign shareholders) and exposes the Australian economy to highly volatile global commodity prices and a heavy strategic dependence upon a single buyer, China.”

Not to mention the way mining leaves us heavily exposed to “the risk of global decarbonisation”.

How have we profited from being a mining-dominated economy? Real GDP per person – a rough measure of our material standard of living – has been in trend decline for two decades. In the decade pre-pandemic, “we recorded the sort of growth rates only previously recorded in recessions,” Henry says.

This weakness is largely explained by our poor productivity performance. Though no one else seems to have noticed, our productivity growth is negatively correlated with our “terms of trade” – the prices we get for our exports, relative to the prices we pay for our imports.

That is, when our terms of trade improve, our rate of productivity improvement worsens. And our terms of trade are largely driven by world commodity prices, especially for coal, gas and iron ore.

Now the tricky bit. Why would a mining boom depress productivity improvement? Because of the way it raises our real exchange rate – our nominal exchange rate, adjusted for the change in our rate of production-cost inflation relative to those of our trading partners.

The resources boom increased our nominal exchange rate by about 25 per cent. Then, by 2011, high wages growth and weak productivity growth relative to our trading partners had added a further 35 per cent to the rise in the real exchange rate, Henry calculates.

This caused our non-mining producers to suffer a “profound loss of international competitiveness”. Is it any wonder that, between the turn of the century and 2019, the annual rate of investment by non-mining businesses fell from 7 per cent of GDP to 5 per cent?

The result is that two centuries of “capital-deepening” – increased equipment per worker – have stalled. This move to “capital-shallowing” explains our poor productivity.

And also, our move from current account deficit to current account surplus. “We are exporting [financial] capital because Australia has become an increasingly unattractive destination for doing business in the eyes of foreign investors and Australian [superannuation] savers alike,” Henry says.

“The mining boom has left us with a very big competitiveness overhang that will probably take decades to work off,” he says, including by decades of weak growth in real wages.

What should we have done differently? Had we applied a rational tax to the windfall profits of the mining companies, we would not only have retained for ourselves more of the proceeds from the export of our own natural resources, but also caused the rise in our real exchange rate to be lower.

Remember Kevin Rudd’s proposed “resource super profits tax”? The mining lobby set out to stop it happening, telling a pack of lies about how it would wreck the economy. The Abbott-led opposition threw its weight behind the mainly foreign miners.

Julia Gillard consulted the industry and cut the tax back to nothing much. The incoming Abbott government abolished it.

Petty, short-sighted politicking caused us to sabotage our economy for decades to come.

Read more >>

Yes, the government does believe what companies do you to online

How often have you had trouble cancelling a subscription to a streaming video site or some other service? When you’re trying to do something online, how often have you ticked a box to say you’d read the terms and conditions, when you hadn’t?

I do it all the time. And my guess is that almost everyone else does too. Why? Because the site won’t let you get on with making a restaurant booking or buying something until you do.

You don’t have the time to read the terms and conditions, which probably run to several pages of fine print. And how would you benefit if you did? It will be written in legalese – by lawyers, for lawyers.

What little you could understand would give you a clear impression: you have few rights, but the company has loads. Ah, it was written by the company’s lawyers to cover its backside, but not yours.

Say you were mad enough to wade through all that guff. Can you imagine the reception you’d get if you rang the company’s call centre and told someone in Manila that you’d like them to explain what term 3(b) means, and could they strike out clause 9(f) because it’s unacceptable?

No, it’s a take-it-or-leave-it deal. The company knows you won’t have read or understood the terms and conditions, and it doesn’t care. All it wants is to be able to tell the judge you said you had, so you’ve got no grounds for complaint.

But can companies really get away with those kinds of stunts? Are the unfair conditions they write into their contracts legally enforceable? In most rich economies – even the US – no they’re not.

And in Australia? In a speech last week, Dr Andrew Leigh, Assistant Minister for Competition, gave the answer: maybe, maybe not.

He told a small business conference that those leasing printers from Fuji Xerox may have received notification that certain terms in their contracts were void.

That’s because, on application by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, last August the Federal Court found that 38 contract terms in 11 of Fuji Xerox’s small business contracts were void and unenforceable. These included ones providing for automatic renewal, excessive exit fees and unilateral price increases.

You may not know that the commission protects small businesses as well as consumers. Leigh reminded us that one of the government’s first acts last year was to prohibit the use of unfair terms in standard-form contracts.

From November this year, the commission and the Australian Securities and Investments Commission can ask the court to fine big businesses that try to push small businesses around in this way.

But unfair contract terms are one thing; unfair trading practices are another. Although the Australian Consumer Law bans several specific unfair practices, there’s no general ban on them. The government is working on this.

One form of unfair trading practice is the “dark patterns” used by companies on their websites. Leigh says these are subtle tweaks in the way sites are designed, intended to trick users into doing things they didn’t intend to do. They discourage consumers from doing things that would reduce the company’s sales.

Efforts to make it hard for you to unsubscribe from digital streaming services are so notorious the Norwegian Consumer Council wrote a whole paper about them, Leigh said.

It compared how hard it was to sign up for Amazon Prime with how hard it was to cancel a subscription. “Consumers who want to leave the service are faced with a large number of hurdles, including complicated navigation menus, skewed wording, confusing choices, and repeated nudging,” it found.

(What I found, before I switched to the ordinary taxis’ app, was how hard it was to cancel a ride with Uber, even though drivers were playing pass-the-parcel with your order. And how hard it was to query a surprisingly high fare, only to have my complaint considered and dismissed in a nanosecond.)

The commission lists other examples of dark patterns: false reminders such as low-stock warnings and false countdown timers, preselected add-ons to what you purchased, and illogical colours, such as a red button for yes and a green button for no.

Then there’s the manipulation of search engines, such as when food delivery companies impair the ability of restaurants to attract customers by ensuring the delivery company’s site appears above the restaurant’s in internet searches.

There’s nothing new about unfair trading practices. But, with the law as it stands, the commission has had mixed results getting firms prosecuted. It alleged Medibank had engaged in misleading conduct in what it told members about its benefits. The Federal Court said Medibank had acted “harshly” and “unfairly”, but still ruled against the commission.

In another case, the commission was unsuccessful in bringing an action against a vocational education and training provider that used door-to-door selling in disadvantaged communities, promising students a free laptop, and promising the courses were free if the students’ earnings stayed low. Such behaviour was found not to breach the act.

The US, European Union, Britain and Singapore simply prohibit unfair trading practices. The US, of all places, has been doing it since 1938.

The Albanese government is working on plans to do something. Leigh says the government knows that effective competition depends on strong safeguards for households and small businesses.

“When laws allow a firm to get away with ripping off consumers, it can create the wrong competition incentives. Other firms in the market see bad behaviour go unpunished and protect their own patch by employing the same dodgy tactics. Soon enough there’s a race to the bottom in dodginess,” he said.

Consumer protections are intended to improve the wellbeing of consumers – and small businesses. But consumer protections also foster effective competition.

They help drive a race to the top in service quality. “But that race to the top can only occur if there’s enough competition,” Leigh said.

True. So, what we also need is stronger merger laws.

Read more >>

The taxman's sneaky trick that will quietly pick our pocket

I’ve seen some sneaky tax tricks in my time, but nothing that compares with this. It could go down in history as the perfect fiscal crime – except that many people won’t notice that some politician has taken money out of their pocket. Which, of course, is what makes it the perfect crime.

All most people may notice is that the cost of living’s got even worse, but they won’t quite realise why. That’s partly because most of the media won’t be making a song and dance about it.

Why not? Because nothing’s been announced. Because you have to know a fair bit about the tax system to understand what’s happening. Because neither side of politics wants to talk about it. There’s no controversy. And neither side’s spin doctors are keen to confirm to inquiring journalists that the strange story they read in this august organ is right.

Since the trick first became apparent to the experienced eye, in Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg’s budget in March last year, just before the election, my colleague Shane Wright and I have been determined to make sure our readers were told.

Wright was at it again on Saturday, and now I’m making sure you got the message. Don’t say we didn’t tell you, even if others have been far less vocal about it.

It’s a complicated story, hard to get your head around and, particularly because it’s about something that isn’t happening now but will happen later, one that’s easily forgotten.

As you see, the move was initiated by the Coalition, but will have its effect under Labor. The opposition may try to blame it on the government, but it’s probably too complicated.

This is a story about the misleadingly named Low and Middle Income Tax Offset, known to tax aficionados as “the LAMIngTOn”. It began life as stage one of the three-stage income tax cuts announced in the budget of May 2018, to take effect over seven years.

The previous government kept changing the amount of the offset – a kind of tax refund – over the years. It started out as “up to” $530 a year, but was increased to $1080 a year just before the 2019 election.

It was to have been absorbed into the second stage of the tax cuts, but it was decided to keep it going. Then, in last year’s pre-election budget, it was decided to increase it by $420 to “up to” $1500 a year. Yippee, we said. Good old Liberals!

By then, people earning up to $37,000 a year got a refund of $675 a year. It then slowly increased to be the full $1500 for those earning between $48,000 and $90,000 a year. Then it started cutting out, reaching zero when income reached $126,000.

This meant more than 10 million taxpayers – almost 70 per cent of the total – got a rebate on top of any other refund they were entitled to.

But here’s the trick. Unlike a normal tax cut, which goes on forever, the lamington was a temporary measure. If it were to be continued for another financial year, a decision had to be made. Morrison and Frydenberg’s last budget contained no such decision.

Why not? Because, in the days leading up to the budget, cabinet decided to increase it, but not to continue it beyond June 2022. Decisions not to do things don’t have to be announced, and this one wasn’t. For obvious reasons.

You really had to be in the know to realise that this constituted a decision to increase the tax 10 million people would pay in 2022-23, by up to $1500 a throw.

Wright and I were at pains to point this out in our coverage of the budget. We thought that, especially with an election imminent, people might find it pretty interesting. But, with neither side of politics wanting to talk about it, few people took much notice. Perhaps they didn’t believe us.

The other strange thing about the lamington is that, whereas a normal tax cut flows through immediately to increase your fortnightly take-home pay, you don’t get a tax cut delivered in the form of a tax offset until after the relevant financial year has ended and you’ve submitted your tax return. The taxman just adds it to any other refund you’re entitled to.

This means the last-ever lamington, for 2021-22, was served up between July and October last year.

It also means that the only way many lamington eaters will get a hint that they paid a lot more tax in the year to June 2023 is when, some time after July, they notice that their refund cheque is a lot smaller than last year’s and wonder why.

Note, I don’t disagree with the two-party cartel’s decision to be rid of the lamington. It was a stupid way to cut tax, born of creative accounting. But when they tacitly collude to conceal what they’ve done, it’s supposed to be the media’s job to point it out. We’ve done our bit.

Read more >>

In politics and the economy, Christianity is increasingly suspect

A question for Easter Monday: would Australia be better governed if our political leaders were practising Christians? Would the economy work any better?

One thing that’s changed since last Easter is that we’re no longer led by a prime minister happy to let his Christian faith be known. By contrast, I wouldn’t know what Anthony Albanese’s religious views are, if any.

Another thing that’s changing is the decline of adherence to Christianity in its many denominations. This is partly the immigration of many people of other religions, but mainly the growing indifference of many from formerly churchgoing families. And, perhaps, the growing number of university graduates.

According to the 2021 census, the proportion of people identifying as Christian has fallen from 61 per cent to 44 per cent in a decade, with those reporting “no religion” rising from 22 per cent to 39 per cent.

So, it’s no exaggeration to say we now live in a post-Christian society. Nor that a growing number of people have a low opinion of those who profess to be Christians. They’ve said or done something bad – well, what would you expect?

Actually, that’s a good question: what do we expect of Christians? How differently would a professing prime minister behave to one who kept their religious opinions to themselves?

I think the main expectation of most people – certainly, most young people – would be for Christians to be always on about their opposition to abortion, same-sex marriage and gender-changing.

Plus, their God-given right to discriminate against those in their churches, schools or hospitals who don’t conform to these views.

Is this the view of themselves and their mission – and their God - that Christians and their leaders are happy to convey to the rest of the nation? That Christ died on the cross to preserve a narrow view of sexual morality?

To be fair, it’s only when clergy speak on such controversial matters that the media take much notice of what they say. An archbishop preaching a sermon on Love One Another gets a headline only on Good Friday.

But I suspect it’s only on matters of (their view of) sexual morality that the churches go out of their way to attract media publicity. By default, this is the churches’ burning message to the nation.

If that’s all Christianity has left – if it now sees itself as an oppressed minority fighting to protect its right to discriminate on religious grounds – then whether our prime minister is an out-of-the-closet Christian is of little consequence for the governance of the nation and the health of the economy.

As we saw with Scott Morrison, such a prime minister won’t prevail against the weight of the nation’s support for sexual freedom and opposition to discrimination on sexual or religious grounds.

The worst we could expect is feet-dragging on the goal of increasing women’s role in politics and the paid workforce.

But this is not the Christianity I grew up with, nor does it fit with the values and behaviour of the many Christians I still mix with. Everything I know about the church and its Saviour tells me sex is just a small part of its definition of what it means to live a “moral” life.

The imitation of Christ is about loving your neighbour as yourself – and defining “neighbour” very broadly. It’s about honesty and meticulous truth-telling, about justice tempered by mercy, about forgiveness and fairness.

And, from what I read in the New Testament, it’s about Jesus’ preoccupation with the poor and strictures on the rich: “Sell everything you have and give it to the poor.”

When I heard a secret recording of Morrison speaking at a prayer meeting, the sentiments and phrases reminded me of my parents and all the prayer meetings I had attended.

But in watching Morrison’s words and actions as prime minister, my recurring feeling over the four years was that nothing about them reminded me of Jesus.

He was not the only prime minister to pander to, and play on, the worst features of the Australian character. Punishing boat people who arrive without an invitation. Telling the underprivileged that “those who have a go, get a go”.

Ignoring the law to use robo-debt to falsely accuse people the mean-spirited regard as dole bludgers. And insisting on keeping unemployment benefits well below the poverty line.

If we could get a prime minister who acted in a less un-Christian way, it wouldn’t matter much who or what he believed in. The economy would be fairer, and we could all enjoy our prosperity with a clearer conscience.

Read more >>

Don't let an economist run your business, or bosses run the economy

A lot of people think the chief executives of big companies – say, one of the four big banks - would be highly qualified to tell them how high interest rates should go and what higher rates will do to the economy over the next year or two.

Don’t believe it. What a big boss could tell you with authority is how to run a big company – their own, in particular. Except they wouldn’t be sharing their trade secrets.

No, in my experience, when bosses step away from their day job to give Treasurer Jim Chalmers free advice, their primary objective is to tell him how to run the economy in ways that better suit the interests of their business (and so help increase their annual bonus).

But when it comes to keeping our banks highly profitable, our treasurers and central bankers are doing an excellent job already.

Of course, it’s just as true the other way around: don’t ask an economist to tell you how to run a business. It’s not something they know much about.

Running big businesses and running economies may seem closely related, but it’s not. They’re very different skills.

One of the ways the rich economies have got rich over the past 200 years is by what the father of economics, Adam Smith, called “the division of labour” – dividing all the work into ever-more specialised occupations. By now, managing businesses and managing economies are a world apart.

But as Free Exchange, the economics column in my favourite magazine, The Economist, explains in its latest issue, there’s more to it than that.

Conventional economic theory sees the economy as composed of a large collection of markets. Producers use resources – labour, physical capital, and land and raw materials – to produce goods and services, which they sell to consumers in markets.

Producers supply goods and services; consumers demand goods and services. How do producers know what to supply and consumers what to demand? They’re guided by the ever-changing prices being demanded and paid in the market.

So economists see economics as being all about markets using the “price mechanism” to ensure the available resources are “allocated” to the particular combination of goods and services that yields consumers the most satisfaction of their needs and wants.

It wasn’t until 1937 that a British-American economist, Ronald Coase, pointed to the glaring omission in this happy description of how economies work: much of the allocation of resources happens not in markets but inside firms, many of them huge firms, with multiple divisions and thousands of employees.

Inside these firms, the decisions are made by employees, and what they do is determined not by price signals, but by what the hierarchy of bosses tells them to do. A key decision when something new is wanted is whether to buy it in from the market, or make it yourself.

The Economist says another gap between economic theory and the world of business is the economists’ assumption that firms are profit-maximising. Well, they would be if they could be.

Trouble is, contrary to standard theory, they simply don’t have the information to know how much they could get away with. Gathering a lot more information would be expensive and, even then, they couldn’t get all they need.

As the American Herbert Simon – not really an economist, which didn’t stop him winning a Nobel Prize – realised, businesses live in a world of “bounded rationality” – they make the best decision they can with the information available, seeking profits that are satisfactory rather than ideal. They are “satisficers” rather than maximisers.

It took decades before other economists took up Coase’s challenge to think more about how companies actually go about turning economic resources into goods and services.

The Economist says a key idea is that the firm is “a co-ordinator of team production, where each team member’s contribution cannot be separated from the others.

“Team output requires a hierarchy to delegate tasks, monitor effort and to reward people accordingly.”

But this requires a different arrangement. In market transactions, you buy what you need and that’s pretty much the end of it. But, because a business can’t think of all the things that could possibly go wrong, a firm’s contracts with its employees are unavoidably “incomplete”.

Without these legal protections, what keeps the business going is trust between employer and employee, and the risk to both sides if things fall apart.

Another problem that arises within companies is ensuring employees act in the best interests of the firm, and are team players, rather than acting in their own interests. Economists call this the principal-agent problem.

In law, and in economic theory, businesses are owned by their shareholders, with everyone employed in the business - from the chief executive down – acting merely as agents for the owners. Who, of course, aren’t present to ensure everyone acts in the owners’ interests, not their own.

Economists came up with the idea of ensuring the executives’ interests aligned with the owners’ interests by paying them with bonuses and share options.

Trouble is, these crude monetary incentives too often encouraged executives to find ways to game the system. Ramp the company’s shares just before you sell your options and let the future look after itself.

Elsewhere, linking teachers pay to exam results encourages too many of them to “teach to the test”.

More recently, economists have decided it’s better to pay a fixed salary and avoid tying rewards to any particular task – which could be achieved by neglecting other tasks.

But whatever economists learn about how to manage businesses, it’s hard to see them supplanting management experts any time soon.

As The Economist observes, when a business hires a chief economist, it’s usually for their understanding of the macroeconomy or the ways of the central bank, not for advice on corporate strategy.

Read more >>

Why I'm happy to bang the drum for higher wages

I’ve long believed that no government – state or federal, Liberal or Labor – should be in office for more than a decade before being put out to pasture. But I can’t say the demise of the 12-year-old Perrottet government in NSW filled me with joy.

Liberal-led governments have been falling like ninepins. But this one happened to be the only one genuinely committed to limiting climate change, improving early childhood education and care, and getting more women into politics (even if its party members weren’t playing ball).

The best thing about Dom Perrottet’s departure is the end of his cap on the size of public sector pay rises. Its removal will add to pressure for higher public sector wages in the other states – particularly Victoria – and at federal level.

It will even put a bit of upward pressure on wage rates in the private sector.

If you wonder why pay rises have been so small over the past decade, government wage caps – in Labor states as well as Liberal – are part of the reason. They’ve reduced the price competition for workers throughout the economy.

But don’t take my word for it. When he was desperate to get inflation up to his 2 to 3 per cent target range, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe said the same.

In NSW, public sector wage rises were capped at 2.5 per cent in 2011. Only when the inflation rate started heading to 8 per cent was it lifted to 3 per cent.

There’s never a shortage of people predicting that higher wage rates will lead to death and destruction. Many Canberra lobbyists make a good living crying poor on behalf of the nation’s employers.

I’m sure there must be some businesses somewhere doing it tough, but you don’t see much evidence of it in the business pages of this august organ. The reverse, in fact.

But won’t higher wages just lead to higher prices? Yes, but not to the extent it suits business groups to claim. Wages and other labour costs don’t account for anything like the majority of the costs most businesses face.

If all firms do is pass on their higher labour costs, all it will do is slow our return to low inflation. It’s when firms use the cover of the highly publicised rises in their costs to add a bit extra to their price rises that inflation takes off.

But that’s less likely now the Reserve Bank is jacking up interest rates to slow the economy down. It won’t say so, but it’s hitting the brakes precisely because businesses were getting a bit too willing with their price rises.

Certainly, it’s not because wage rises have been too high. Few if any workers have been getting – or are likely to get – wage rises anything like as high as the rise in prices.

That’s likely to be true even for the “frontline” nurses and teachers in NSW, whose unions will be celebrating the end of the wage cap by hitting Premier Chris Minns for big increases.

It will be least true for the bottom quarter of workers dependent on the national minimum wage and the range of minimum wage rates set out in awards, who are likely to be awarded decent pay rises by the Fair Work Commission, as they were last year.

We can’t possibly afford that? Really? Nah. “If you made a list of all the things that are giving us this inflation challenge in our economy, low-paid workers getting paid too much wouldn’t be on that list,” Treasurer Jim Chalmers has said.

Why am I happy to bang the drum for higher wages? Because, as any year 11 economics student could tell you, the economy is circular.

Business people may begrudge every cent they pay their workers, but they’re pretty pleased to have all those dollars back when the nation’s households front up at their counters.

A big part of managing a capitalist economy involves saving short-sighted business people from their folly.

As for minuscule public sector pay caps, ask yourself why it’s fair enough to expect people who work for the government to accept lower rates of pay. Because they’re second-class citizens? Because they stand around leaning on shovels?

Because they’re not as smart as the rest of us? Well, if you go on doing that for long enough, you probably do end up with the cream of the crop going to higher-paying jobs in the private sector.

Which means it’s not just a matter of fairness. Underpay your nurses and teachers and then wonder why you can’t get enough recruits.

Yes, but how will Minns possibly pay for those higher wages? He could cut the number of nurses and teachers he can afford to employ, but I doubt he will.

No, he’ll do what a business would do: raise his prices. Except that, in government, prices are called taxes. You want the workers? You pay the going rate. It’s the capitalist way.

Read more >>

Climate choice: cling to past glories or strive for prosperous future

The big question facing our political leaders is: are we content to allow climate change to turn us from winners into losers, or do we have the courage and foresight to transform our mining, energy and manufacturing industries into clean energy winners?

For most rich countries, playing their part in limiting global climate change is simply about switching from fossil fuels to renewable energy. For us, however, there’s a double challenge: as one of the world’s biggest exporters of fossil fuels, what do we do for an encore?

When it comes to deciding how we can earn a decent living, economists are always telling politicians to pursue our “comparative advantage” – concentrate on doing what we’re better at than other people, and they want to buy from us; then use the proceeds to buy from them what they’re better at than we are.

Turns out our “natural endowment” makes us better at farming and mining. Climate change will be bad for farming (not that the world will stop wanting to eat), and the only future for fossil fuel exports is down and out. It may take a decade or two to reach zero, but there’ll be no growth from now on.

Most economists have little to say about what you do when your natural endowment becomes a stranded asset and our comparative advantage evaporates. Except for Professor Ross Garnaut, who was the first to realise that nature has also endowed us with a bigger share of sun and wind.

If we tried hard enough and were quick enough, we could not only produce all the renewable energy we need for our own use, but find ways to export it to less well-endowed countries, probably embodied in green steel and aluminium.

This, of course, involves innovation and risks. We’re talking about technological advances that haven’t yet been shown to work, let alone commercialised. Doing things that have never been done before.

When it comes to technology, Australia is used to following the leader, not being the leader. Until now, this has been sensible for a smaller economy like ours. But we’re facing the impending loss of our biggest export earner. If we can’t find something just as big to sell, we’ll see our standard of living rapidly declining.

The threat we face isn’t quite existential. We’ll still be alive, just a lot poorer – and kicking ourselves for not seeing it coming and doing something about it.

The solution’s in two parts. First, the federal government must make clear to the coal and gas industries, the premiers, the mining unions and the affected regions that there’ll be no further support or encouragement for anyone pretending they haven’t seen the writing on the wall. Anyone trying to stop the clock and keep living in the past.

There’ll be plenty of support and encouragement, but only for those industries, workers and regions needing help to move from the old world to the new. As part of this, the government must do what now even the UN secretary-general says every country must do: end subsidies of fossil fuels and use the money to assist the move to renewables and green production.

Help coal miners relocate or retrain – whatever. Promise that, wherever it made sense, the new renewable and green industries would be set up near the old mines.

Ideally, the policy of ending the old and moving to the new should be bipartisan. No opposition should take the low road of courting the votes of those preferring to keep their head in the sand.

But if that’s too much to ask of a two-party duopoly, Anthony Albanese and the Labor premiers should take their lives in their hands and overcome their life-long fear of what the other side will say when you put the national interest first.

Second, pick winners. Econocrats spend their lives telling governments not to do that – not to subsidise new industries you hope will become profitable.

Trouble is, politicians being politicians, you can be sure they’ll be putting taxpayers’ money on some horse in the race. And if they’re not trying to pick winners, they’ll be doing what they’re doing now: backing losers. Which would you prefer?

More importantly, it’s a neoliberal delusion that new industries just spring up as profit-seeking entrepreneurs seek new ways to make their fortunes. Doing something never done before is high risk. The chance of failure is high. Banks won’t lend to you.

We don’t stand a chance of becoming a green superpower without a lot of government underwriting with, inevitably, some big losses. But I can think of many worse ways of wasting taxpayers’ money.

Read more >>