Why did profit-hungry banks act so quickly to cut interest rates

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Like dominoes, the country’s big four banks moved briskly on Tuesday, pledging to knock down their interest rates – some within minutes of the Reserve Bank’s decision to cut the cash rate for the first time in more than four years.

The country’s oldest bank was the first to jump, one minute after the Reserve Bank’s rate cut. From March 4, Westpac’s variable home loan rates will fall by 0.25 of a percentage point, reducing the monthly repayment on an average $600,000 mortgage by about $100. Sixty seconds later, National Australia Bank said it would cut its variable home loan rates by the same amount – effective a week earlier, on February 28. Commonwealth Bank and, later in the day, ANZ followed.

The banks aren’t always so quick. In fact, they tend to jump at the chance to raise their rates (which fattens up their profits), but drag their feet when it comes to passing on decreases in the official interest rate. And this series of moves will eat into their profits. So, what made them move so quickly?

Treasurer Jim Chalmers says he picked up the phone to the big four bank bosses shortly after the Reserve Bank’s decision on Tuesday to talk about their pricing. But it wasn’t Chalmers who sealed the deal. The four major banks were already well on their way to passing on the rate cuts in full, he said.

Instead, Chalmers’ chats with the bosses were a clear-as-day signal of what the banks had already factored in: the political pressure they would face if they didn’t cut rates (not to mention the potential media storm and backlash from mortgage holders pushed to their limits in recent months).

The rate cut was a scenario all of them had considered well in advance of the decision.

It’s no secret that those with mortgages have been squeezed after 13 rate rises in three years. So the first rate cut was always going to be an attention-grabber.

As AMP chief economist Shane Oliver points out, there’s an especially strong focus on interest rates in Australia because of the large proportion of home owners with variable rate loans (in which the interest rate tends to move in line with the cash rate rather than being fixed at a set rate), and the increasing level of debt we tend to carry.

“It’s become a lot harder for banks to dilly-dally and take time with their decisions,” he says.

Then there’s the state of the home loan market, in which banks are still competing quite hard to attract and retain customers. This level of competition probably also put a flame under the backsides of banks when deciding whether to cut their interest rates.

The rapid movements were also partly a reflection of the banks’ size. Australia’s banking sector has had some new smaller and digital banks enter the equation, but it’s still what’s called an “oligopoly”: a handful of businesses with control over rather large slices of the market.

They’re not supposed to be able to collude (for example, by all agreeing to move prices by the same amount) because our competition laws prohibit that. But as John Storey, head of Australian bank research at UBS, points out, the nearly simultaneous movement is indicative of a fairly cosy oligopoly, where once one business breaks from the pack, others tend to follow quite quickly.

In a more competitive market (with more banks), Storey says, it’s possible the banks would act more independently. They might be more incentivised to break further away from their peers by, for example, cutting their rates by a deeper amount.

But in a market with only a few big competitors, each business closely watches the others, and their pricing decisions heavily influence the actions of competitors. A bank cutting its rates too much, for instance, might be met with retaliatory price cuts that just lead to lower profits for everyone.

As Morningstar banking analyst Nathan Zaia puts it, banks don’t want to unnecessarily drive down profit margins for the entire industry.

So, while there was pressure from consumers (and politicians) to pass on the full interest rate cut from the Reserve Bank, and all four banks quickly fell into line, there wasn’t as much incentive to slash rates any further.

There is bad news for savers. The banks will also almost certainly try to minimise lost profit by making similar cuts to interest rates on deposits. That means that although mortgage holders will be breathing a sigh of relief, savers will probably see a fall in interest they earn on their bank balances.

Finally, it’s worth understanding what exactly the “cash rate” targeted by the Reserve Bank is. It’s essentially the interest rate for banks borrowing from – and lending to – each other overnight. You might ask, what’s this mysterious nocturnal activity?

Basically, banks need enough cash every day to serve their customers – and a bit extra (called the “reserve requirement”) in case they suddenly face a wave of withdrawals they weren’t expecting. Depending on the amount of lending, depositing and withdrawing their customers do on any given day, banks might end up with more (or less) cash than they need.

So, at the end of every business day, the banks with more money than they need lend to banks facing a shortage. The Reserve Bank pushes banks to lend and borrow to each other at (or very close to) its cash rate target. How does it do this? By being a bank for the banks.

Basically, the Reserve Bank can hold onto deposits from the banks (called “exchange settlement balances”). The interest rate that banks can earn on these deposits is a bit lower than the cash rate target. That makes banks a lot keener to lend to each other, rather than depositing their extra cash with the Reserve Bank.

Meanwhile, borrowing from the Reserve Bank costs banks a bit more than the cash rate. So any banks needing money are much keener to borrow from their banking peers, which, remember, would rather lend their money out than leave it with the Reserve Bank.

By putting these parameters into place, the Reserve Bank basically creates a narrow “corridor” around the cash rate that determines the cost of banks moving their money around. These costs are then typically passed on to consumers. A lower cash rate for banks usually means lower interest rates for consumers, and vice versa.

The rapid response from the banks this week is certainly no promise of what we’ll see following future Reserve Bank decisions. What seems like a dent to the banks’ profits, and a win for customers, was almost certainly a calculated decision by the banks. They just weighed up the political, social and economic costs of dilly-dallying.

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Central banking: don't mention business pricing power

Despite the grilling he got in two separate parliamentary hearings last week, Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s explanation of why he was preparing mortgage borrowers for yet further interest rate increases didn’t quite add up. There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling us – and I think I know what it was.

We know that, as well as rising mortgage payments, we have falling real wages, falling house prices and a weak world economy. So it’s not hard to believe the Reserve’s forecasts that the economy will slow sharply this year and next, unemployment will rise (it already is), and underlying inflation will be back down to the top of the 2 per cent to 3 per cent target range by the end of next year.

So, why is Lowe still so anxious? Because, he says, it’s just so important that the present high rate of inflation doesn’t become “ingrained”. “If inflation does become ingrained in people’s expectations, bringing it back down again is very costly,” he said on Friday.

Why is what people expect to happen to inflation so crucial? Because their expectations about inflation have a tendency to be self-fulfilling.

When businesses expect prices to keep on increasing rapidly, they keep raising their own prices. And when workers and their unions expect further rapid price rises, they keep demanding and receiving big pay rises.

This notion that, once people start expecting the present jump in inflation to persist, it becomes “ingrained” and then can’t be countered without a deep recession has been “ingrained” in the conventional wisdom of macroeconomists since the 1970s.

They call it the “wage-price spiral” – thus implying it’s always those greedy unionists who threw the first punch that started the brawl.

In the 1970s and 1980s, there was a lot of truth to that characterisation. In those days, many unions did have the industrial muscle to force employers to agree to big pay rises if they didn’t want their business seriously disrupted.

But that’s obviously not an accurate depiction of what’s happening now. The present inflationary episode has seen businesses large and small greatly increasing their prices to cover the jump in their input costs arising from pandemic-caused supply disruptions and the Ukraine war.

Although the rate of increase in wages is a couple of percentage points higher than it was, this has fallen far short of the 5 or 6 percentage-point further rise in consumer prices.

So Lowe has reversed the name of the problem to a “prices-wages spiral”. In announcing this month’s rate rise, he said that “given the importance of avoiding a prices-wages spiral, the board will continue to play close attention to both the evolution of labour costs and the price-setting behaviour of firms in the period ahead”.

Lowe admits that inflation expectations, the thing that could set off a prices-wages spiral, have not risen. “Medium-term inflation expectations remain well anchored,” but adds “it is important that this remains the case”.

If that’s his big worry, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy doesn’t share it. Last week he said bluntly that “the risk of a price and wage spiral remains low, with medium-term inflation expectations well anchored to the inflation target.

“Although measures of spare capacity in the labour market show that the market remains tight, the forecast pick-up in wages growth to around 4 per cent is consistent with the inflation target.”

So, why does Lowe remain so concerned about inflation expectations leading to a prices-wages spiral that he expects he’ll have to keep raising the official interest rate?

There must be something he’s not telling us. I think his puzzling preoccupation with inflation expectations is a cover for his real worry: oligopolistic pricing power.

Why doesn’t he want to talk about it? Well, one reason could be that the previous government has given him a board stacked with business people.

A better explanation is that he’s reluctant to admit a cause of inflation that’s not simply a matter of ensuring the demand for goods and services isn’t growing faster than their supply.

Decades of big firms taking over smaller firms and finding ways to discourage new firms from entering the industry has left many of our markets for particular products dominated by two, three or four huge companies – “oligopoly”.

The simple economic model lodged in the heads of central bankers assumes that no firm in the industry is big enough to influence the market price. But the whole point of oligopoly is for firms to become big enough to influence the prices they can charge.

When there are just a few big firms, it isn’t hard for them reach a tacit agreement to put their prices up at the same time and by a similar amount. They compete for market share, but they avoid competing on price.

To some degree, they can increase their prices even when demand isn’t strong, or keep their prices high even when demand is very weak.

I suspect what’s worrying Lowe is his fear that our big firms will be able keep raising their prices even though his higher interest rates have greatly weakened demand. If so, his only way to get inflation back to the target band will be to keep raising rates until he “crunches” the economy and forces even the big boys to pull their horns in.

It’s hard to know how much of the surge in prices we saw last year was firms using their need to pass on to customers the rise in their input costs as cover for fattening their profit margins.

We do know that Treasury has found evidence of rising profit margins – “mark-ups”, as economists say – in Australia in recent decades.

And a study by the Federal Reserve Bank of Kansas City has found that mark-ups in the US grew by 3.4 per cent in 2021.

But for Lowe (and his predecessors, and peers in other central banks) to spell all that out is to admit there’s an important dimension of inflation that’s beyond the direct control of the central banks.

If he did that, he could be asked what he’s been doing about the inflation caused by inadequate competition. He’d say competition policy was the responsibility of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, not the Reserve. True, but what an admission.

In truth, the only person campaigning on the need to tighten competition policy in the interests of lower inflation is the former ACCC chair, Professor Rod Sims. Has he had a shred of public support from Lowe or Kennedy? No.

Final point: what’s the most glaring case of oligopolistic pricing power in the country? The four big banks. Since the Reserve began raising interest rates, their already fat profits have soared.

Why? Because they’ve lost little time in passing the increases on to their borrowing customers, but been much slower to pass the increase through to their depositors. Has Lowe been taking them to task? No, far from it.

But his predecessors did the same – as no doubt will his successors, unless we stop leaving inflation solely to a central bank whose only tool is to fiddle with interest rates.

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Nobbling Afterpay would stifle competition and protect bank profits

There’s nothing new about buying now and paying later. You can do it with lay-by or a credit card. But the version of it invented by Afterpay, and copied by so many rivals, is so different and so hugely popular it’s not surprising it’s raised eyebrows.

The most obvious reaction is to see it as a new way of tempting young people, in particular, to overload themselves with debt and make their lives a misery. The government should be regulating its providers to limit the harm they do.

But to see Afterpay as purely a matter of “consumer protection”, as I used to, is to miss the way this prime example of “fintech” – the use of digital technology to find new ways of delivering financial services – is subjecting the banks and their hugely overpriced credit cards to strong competition from a product many users find more attractive.

And not just that. When you think it through – as I suspect the politicians and financial regulators haven’t – you see that this new approach to BNPL – buy now, pay later – is also threatening the big profits Google and Facebook are making from their stranglehold on online advertising.

The man who has thought it through is Dr Richard Denniss, of the Australia Institute. With Matt Saunders, Denniss has written a paper, The role of Buy Now, Pay Later services in enhancing competition, commissioned by ... Afterpay.

Normally, I’m hugely suspicious of “research” paid for by commercial interests, but Denniss is one of the most original thinkers among the nation’s boring economists.

Buying something via Afterpay allows you to receive it immediately, while paying for it in four equal, fortnightly instalments over six weeks. Provided you make the payments on time, you pay no interest or further charge. The fortnightly payments fit with most people’s fortnightly pay.

If you’re late with a payment, you’re charged a late fee that varies from a minimum of $10 to a maximum of $68, depending on how much you’ve borrowed. If you don’t pay the late fee and get your payments up to date, Afterpay won’t finance any more BNPL deals until you have.

If you never get up to date, you’re not charged interest or any further late fees. Eventually, Afterpay ends its relationship with you and writes off the debt.

The individual amounts people borrow are usually for just a few hundred dollars. You can have more than one loan running at a time, but only within the credit limit Afterpay has set, and only if your existing payments are up to date.

Afterpay sets a fairly low limit initially, but increases it as you demonstrate your payment reliability.

So, what’s in it for Afterpay? It charges the shop that sold you the stuff a merchant fee of about 4 per cent of the sale price. I used to suspect they made a lot from their late fees, but these remain a small part of their total revenue, almost all of which comes from merchant fees.

Despite its huge expansion, Afterpay has yet to turn a profit, putting it in the same boat as Uber, Twitter and other digital platforms. Of late, the BNPLs have had greatly increased bad debts and the sharemarket has fallen out of love with them. This doesn’t affect Afterpay, which has been taken over by a big American fintech, Square, which has many other irons in the fire.

Obviously, Afterpay and its imitators are offering a way to BNPL that’s an alternative to a conventional credit card, which involves charging merchants a fee of a couple of per cent, and offering interest-free credit - provided you pay your balance on time and in full each month.

If you can’t keep that up – as the great majority of credit-card holders can’t – you get hit with interest on your purchases of an extortionate 20 per cent-plus. These rates haven’t changed in decades while other interest rates have fallen. That’s a sign the banking oligopoly has huge pricing power in the provision of consumer credit.

It seems clear from the declining growth in credit-card debt and the amazing popularity of Afterpay and its imitators that people are jack of credit cards and keen to shift to a less onerous form of BNPL.

Many young adults, in particular, seem to have sworn off credit cards because they’re just too tempting. Behavioural economists call this a “pre-commitment device”. The best way to ensure you don’t end up deep in ever-growing debt is not to have a credit card in the first place.

These people regard Afterpay & Co as a much less risky way to BNPL, a ubiquitous practice economists sanctify as “consumption smoothing”.

Those who want to regulate the new BNPL by stopping providers from prohibiting merchants from charging users a surcharge – the way they stopped Visa and Mastercard from banning surcharging – see this as levelling the competitive playing field between the two different forms of BNPL.

But Denniss’ insight is to point out that the two merchant fees are quite different. The credit-card merchant fee can be regarded as a transaction fee – that is, merely covering administrative costs – but in Afterpay’s case it covers much more than that, to justify its much higher cost.

What Afterpay offers is something marketers understand, but economists have yet to: better “customer acquisition”. Being able to offer free credit is one aid to acquiring customers, but Afterpay does much more to attract customers to those merchants who offer its BNPL service.

Younger consumers like the new BNPL so much they search the internet for sellers of the item they want to buy that also offer Afterpay. Afterpay uses a directory of stores on its website – and also its mobile app – to direct potential customers to participating merchants.

Afterpay also sends messages to its users advertising its merchants’ special offers and the like.

So Afterpay’s merchant fee also provides its merchants with a new form advertising, thus reducing their need for online advertising through Google or Facebook.

Afterpay is genuinely disruptive, offering users what they may justifiably regard as a better product. Regulators should think twice before they seek to discourage it by presenting customers with a misleading comparison: a merchant fee of 4 per cent versus 2 per cent.

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Printing money to fund the deficit ain't the free lunch it seems

The new Treasurer, Dr Jim Chalmers, is saying a lot about the trillion-dollar debt he’s just inherited. He’s saying less about the tension between the new government’s plan to “invest” in improving the economy and all the pressure he’ll be under from mainstream economists to reduce the budget deficit and so reduce what Labor will be adding to that debt.

But whenever I write about debt and deficit, I know to expect puzzled or angry pushback from people who’ve read US Professor Stephanie Kelton’s bestseller, The Deficit Myth, or studied “modern monetary theory” (MMT) at university.

Why all this fuss about budget deficits? Who said the shortfall between what a government spends and what it raises in taxes must be covered by borrowing from the public? That’s just a rule someone made up.

Surely the government can avoid ticking up all that debt – with all the interest payments on it – simply by telling the central bank to “create” – some still say “print” – the money the government needs.

After all, all currencies are “fiat” currencies. When a government prints a $50 note, it becomes “legal tender” worth $50 merely because the government says it is. By government decree or fiat.

So why all the fuss about debt and deficit? Just create all the extra money the government needs with the stroke of the central bank’s computer program.

There’s a lot of truth in what the MMT people say. But if you think it all sounds a bit too good to be true, it is. So what’s the problem?

The “monetarists” of the 1970s taught that every time the government adds to the supply of money in circulation it adds to inflation. Not true. We value money because of what we can buy with it. Economists say what you’re buying is “command over real resources” – that is, raw materials, physical capital equipment and labour, often embodied in goods and services, or physical assets, including buildings and land.

Inflation is caused when the demand for real (that is, tangible) resources runs ahead of the supply of real resources, thereby causing prices to rise.

So, even though people spending the money you’ve created will add to the demand for real resources, this won’t cause inflation provided you do it when demand is weak. Only when you reach the point where demand catches up and overtakes supply will you have a problem with inflation.

That’s the purely pragmatic reason most economists disapprove of MMT. Once politicians had the idea they could keep spending without worrying about debt and deficit, how would you get them to stop adding to inflation by continuing to create money rather switching back to borrowing and having to pay interest?

How would you get them to do what Chalmers is doing as we speak: looking at all the spending plans of his Liberal predecessors that aren’t sensible and stopping them, so as to make room for Labor’s own spending plans?

Even so, as the econocrats would prefer me not to point out, the MMT brigade has had a qualified win. As part of the Reserve Bank’s resort to “unconventional” monetary policy during the pandemic – aka “quantitative easing” – it has bought more than $350 billion-worth of second-hand government bonds.

Bonds it paid for merely by crediting the “exchange-settlement accounts” that each of the banks it bought the bonds from has with the central bank.

So indirectly, the Reserve has done what the MMT people say it should have done: covered about $350 billion of budget deficits by creating money.

This means $350 billion of the government’s $1 trillion debt – and the related interest payments - is owed to the Reserve Bank, which just happens to be owned by the government. Roughly a third of the government’s debt is owed to, and must eventually be repaid to, itself.

So, the government’s liability is cancelled out by its subsidiary’s asset. That’s what I wrote a few weeks’ ago, and it’s true. But, as some fossilised central banker explained to me, it’s not the whole truth.

When you trace through all the double-entry bookkeeping, you see that the created money the Reserve paid into the banks’ exchange-settlement accounts in return for the bonds it bought is still sitting there. It’s still a liability on the Reserve’s balance sheet, and an asset on the banks’ balance sheets.

That money is part of what monetary economists call “base money”. Base money consists of all the “currency” – notes and coins – issued by the central bank, plus all the money the banks are holding in their exchange-settlement accounts at the central bank.

And the trick to base money is that its quantity can be changed only by a transaction with either the government or the central bank on the other end of it. That is, nothing anything any person or business or even a bank can do of their own volition can change the quantity of base money.

It’s true that bank A and bank B can do a deal that reduces the balance of bank A’s account – but only by increasing bank B’s balance by the same amount. That is, the banks can move base money around between themselves, but they can’t change the quantity of base money held by the banks as a whole.

OK, but why is this a problem? Because the banks have money they own stuck in bank accounts with the central bank, on which it pays little or no interest. They’d like to lend it to someone else at a much higher interest rate.

So they’re tempted to enter highly contrived, highly risky arbitrage arrangements which involve borrowing short-term and lending long-term. The Yanks call this “picking up dimes in front of a steamroller”.

It’s fine until there’s a financial crisis, which brings down banks and does huge damage to the rest of the economy, as we saw with the global financial crisis of 2008. Yet another case of there being no free lunches.

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Banking royal commission: much misconduct, not much follow-up

Can you remember as far back as three years ago? Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg are hoping you can’t. And fortunately for them, the media’s memory is notoriously short.

The media mostly live in the now. What’s being promised in this election campaign? Not much as yet on what promises were made last time and what became of them.

A big issue in the years before the election in May 2019 was the many complaints about people’s mistreatment by the banks, much of it brought to light by this masthead’s Adele Ferguson. There was growing pressure for a royal commission.

But the banks denied there was a problem, and then-treasurer Morrison repeatedly dismissed the need for an inquiry. Finally, when some government backbenchers signalled their support for a motion to establish a commission, the banks begged the government to take over and ensure the inquiry had appropriate terms of reference.

Former High Court judge Kenneth Hayne was appointed to inquire into misconduct in the banking, superannuation and financial services industry. For months, the public was shocked by the misbehaviour his hearings revealed.

People – even dead people – being charged for services they didn’t receive, signatures being forged, banks finding many ways to put their profits ahead of the fair treatment of their customers.

The government, too, professed its shock and utter disapproval of the banks’ behaviour. When the commission’s final report was submitted just a few months before the election was due, the government took three days to announce it was acting on all 76 recommendations and going further in “a number of important areas”.

“My message to the financial sector is that misconduct must end and the interest of consumers must now come first. From today the sector must change, and change forever,” Treasurer Frydenberg declared.

But the backdown began just five weeks later, even before the election. Frydenberg announced that “following consultation with the mortgage broking industry and smaller lenders, the Coalition government has decided to not prohibit trail commissions on new loans, but rather review their operation in three years’ time”.

As Professor Richard Holden of the University of NSW observed at the time, Frydenberg offered nothing in its place.

Back in 2009, in the aftermath of global financial crisis, the Rudd government imposed “responsible lending obligations” making it illegal to offer credit that was unsuitable for a consumer based on their needs and capacity to make payments.

These have always irked the banks, and soon after the Coalition came to power in 2013 it attempted to wind them back, but was blocked in the Senate. The Hayne commission said they were fine.

But in September 2020, under cover of the “coronacession”, Frydenberg announced plans to dismantle the obligations because they’d become “overly prescriptive, complex and unnecessarily onerous on consumers”.

Professor Kevin Davis, of the University of Melbourne, a respected expert in this field, has argued that these justifications don’t make much sense.

By January last year, Davis found that the government was yet to implement 44 of the 76 recommendations it had accepted, and had “turned its back on five key reforms – including curbing irresponsible lending practices”.

“Instead, it appears to be banking on market forces and voluntary codes of conduct to protect financially unsophisticated borrowers. This is the triumph of ideology and vested interests over logic and evidence,” Davis said.

The Hayne commission was highly critical of the Australian Securities and Investments Commission, saying it was too accommodating towards the bodies it was regulating, being too ready to negotiate and not keen enough to litigate.

In August last year, Frydenberg significantly changed his “statement of expectations” of ASIC from the one issued in 2018. The new directions start by saying the government expects the body to “identify and pursue opportunities to contribute to the government’s goals, including supporting Australia’s economic recovery from the COVID pandemic”. Hmmm.

Hayne recommended setting up a “compensation scheme of last resort”, funded by the industry, to ensure that victims of financial misconduct actually receive compensation that had been awarded where the firm was unable to pay because it had collapsed.

Hayne also recommended a “financial accountability regime” to hold finance leaders accountable for misconduct that occurs on their watch.

The two measures were finally recommended for passage by the relevant Senate committee in mid-February. But neither was passed before parliament was prorogued for the election.

It’s remarkable what miraculously winning an election can do to your determination to make the bankers behave.

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Here's a novel idea: Australia needs more competition, not less

Business has many tired ideas for reforming the economy and improving productivity, most of which boil down to: cut my tax and give me more power to keep my wage bill low. But a veteran econocrat has proposed a new and frightening reform: make our businesses compete harder for our custom, thus making it harder for them to raise their prices.

Treasurer Josh Frydenberg has asked the Productivity Commission to undertake a five-yearly review of our (dismal) productivity performance. And this week Rod Sims, who’s departing after 11 years heading the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, offered a few helpful hints in a speech to the National Press Club.

Sims says “the Australian economy suffers from high levels of market concentration [markets dominated by a few big firms] to the detriment of consumers, small business and productivity”.

He argues that the pandemic-related supply shortages and logistics problems we’re facing are worsened by market concentration in so many areas and by our infrastructure bottlenecks.

“We need to address this through competition law, to prevent anti-competitive abuses of market power, and through general infrastructure reform,” he says. He’s referring mainly to road, rail, air and sea transport facilities, and also to utilities – electricity, gas and water.

Australia’s infrastructure is generally high cost, he says, compared with other countries. “Why do we keep privatising assets and claiming success when huge amounts are paid for the asset?”

My answer: when state Treasuries are run by bankers rather than econocrats, that’s what they think they’re supposed to be doing.

Sims says that often, “these huge prices are the result of closing off competition, or because a monopoly was deliberately sold without any regulation of the prices that can be set for users who have no alternative but to use the monopoly asset”.

“Such behaviour can dramatically affect existing users and could be considered a continuing tax on the community,” he says.

Governments need to sign up to a checklist before infrastructure assets are sold to avoid provisions which restrict competition and to ensure there is appropriate regulation where monopoly or significant market power will exist after the sale to private interests, he says.

“Let’s acknowledge this issue and fix it so that Australia can avoid even higher priced infrastructure in future.”

Another infrastructure challenge is ensuring the regulatory arrangements for the National Broadband Network are appropriate.

“After [the federal government] spending $50 billion on the NBN, the objective must not be a commercial return on the [$50 billion] sunk investment. It must be making the best use of this great asset.

“The prices that allow the NBN to get a commercial return on all its outlays, and the prices that make best use of this expensive asset, are very likely quite different,” he says.

We all saw the benefit of having the NBN completed in time for the pandemic lockdowns. That’s just a taste of the benefits if we get the NBN’s pricing right. Prices must allow the NBN to keep investing as needed, but must also see optimum use made of the network.

That is, the goal should be maximising the network’s benefit to the whole economy, not creating a new business that can exploit the pricing power that usually goes with a monopoly network, then selling it off to the highest bidder (or continuing to own it while overcharging customers).

Another area where we’re not getting enough competition, are paying prices that are too high (often in ways that aren’t visible) and are crimping productivity improvement is “digital platforms”.

Sims says we have an internet dominated by a few gatekeeper companies: Google has 95 per cent of searching activity, Facebook dominates social media, and Google and Apple dominate the app market, particularly on mobile devices.

“I am proud that the ACCC is at the forefront of world efforts to identify the harms from digital platforms and potential solutions to them,” he says.

While it’s true that these giants innovated their way to success - bringing many benefits to ordinary internet users – it’s equally true they also acquired a huge array of companies that could have been competitors, which has extended their reach and cemented their power.

They also engage in many activities, from “product bundling” (where to get the ones you want, you have to pay for stuff you don’t want) to “self-preferencing” (where they put their own products at the top of a list, and rival firms’ products at the bottom). Over time, this has lessened competition in various important digital markets.

The digital giants also have access to, and control, a massive amount of data, which has seen harms ranging from that seen with Cambridge Analytica, to profiling people so as to maximise sales by exploiting consumers’ vulnerabilities.

Then there’s the many examples of inadequate competition in banking. Sims quotes just three. First, the price of the most important financial product, a home mortgage, is unknowable without huge effort and cost, which benefits banks and harms borrowers.

The still-being-rolled-out “consumer data right” (that is, it’s your data so you should be able to have it forwarded to a rival business) should help this a lot. And Sims wants consumers to be continually informed by a “prompt” of what typical borrowers are paying, so they know when to start shopping around.

Second, to reduce “debanking” – where banks find excuses to refuse to move money that has been arranged through the new “fintechs” and money remitters – the government should set up a scheme these digital non-banks can use to prove their controls are adequate to detect money laundering.

Third, now the digital giants are getting into the now largely cashless world, outfits such as Apple Pay must be stopped from preventing other providers of digital wallets making use of its “near field technology”.

Funny how it’s never occurred to the Business Council and other business lobby groups wringing their hands over weak productivity that an obvious solution to the problem is to make firms compete harder for their profits.

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Global warming is too 'wicked' to just muddle our way through

It’s probably always true that democracies take too long to accept the need to act decisively to avert foreseeable problems. We never do it well, but always manage to muddle through. We wait until the problem’s reached crisis point. Everyone’s panicking, and thus willing to accept the tough remedies needed. But I fear climate change is too “wicked” a problem to be solved this usual way.

An extra problem for Australia is that we have a government rendered impotent by its internal divisions. The good news – of sorts – is that when the captain of the ship goes AWOL, the crew take over. The premiers – Liberal and Labor – are stepping in to fill the gap. And business can see the writing on the wall and is taking evasive action.

It’s obvious the world is moving to renewable energy and, before long, oil, gas and coal will become “stranded assets” selling a product for which demand can only decline. Here and overseas, banks are worrying about the security of their loans to fossil-fuel businesses, pension funds and investment managers are worrying about their members’ distaste for investing in polluting businesses, and energy businesses such as AGL and now BHP are dividing themselves into good bank and bad bank, so to speak.

Much of the wake-up call to finance and business is coming from financial regulators. Our Australian Prudential Regulatory Authority (APRA) has initiated a climate vulnerability assessment for banks, encompassing scenarios up to 3 degrees of average global warming, and has issued draft guidance for companies to stress test their own finances against scenarios of up to 4 degrees warming.

But in the report, Degrees of Risk, released this week by the Breakthrough – National Centre for Climate Restoration, and written by David Spratt and Ian Dunlop, the authors warn that if by these actions the climate-risk regulators imply warming of 3 to 4 degrees is manageable, or could be adapted to, APRA risks doing more harm than good.

Why? Because with warming of that extent, it’s doubtful we’d still have any banks. The authors say scientists consider 4 degrees of warming to be an existential threat, incompatible with the maintenance of human civilisation. And 3 degrees would be catastrophic, perhaps leading to outright chaos in the relations between nations.

If warming was anything like that bad, applying “stress tests” and doing “scenario planning” would be largely irrelevant.

The authors quote one professor saying that a 4-degree future is “incompatible with an organised global community, is likely to be beyond ‘adaptation’, is devastating to the majority of ecosystems and has a high probability of not being stable”.

Another prof says “it’s difficult to see how we could accommodate 8 billion people or maybe even half that . . . it will be a turbulent, conflict-ridden world”.

Among other impacts, the authors say, 4 degrees would in the long run melt both polar ice caps, with a sea-level rise of about 70 metres. Even 3 degrees would be catastrophic and make some nations, and regions, unliveable.

The authors say most people don’t understand what “global mean [average] warming” implies. As a general rule, global average warming of 4 degrees – covering land and ocean – is consistent with 6 degrees over land (that is, warming over the ocean would be a lot lower, bringing the average down) and with average warming of 8 degrees over land in the mid-latitudes.

That, in turn, risks an average warming of 10 degrees in summer. Or perhaps 12 degrees during heatwaves. All this is packed inside a tolerable-sounding global annual average warming of 4 degrees.

The authors say that Western Sydney has already reached heatwaves of 48 degrees. Add 12 degrees to that and you get summer heatwaves of 60 degrees. Phew.

Now, remember that psychologists and communications experts have been warning climate change campaigners that, if they make their message too frightening, the reaction of many people won’t be to rush out and join Extinction Rebellion, but to close their ears and do nothing.

Remember, too, that the modelling and projections of the climate scientists are far from certain sure and, as with the virus modelling of the epidemiologists, are based on assumptions that keep changing as our understanding of the phenomenon improves.

For these reasons, the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has long erred on the side of understatement. But the risk with all this is that sensible people with the best intentions – such as regulators of the financial system – don’t realise how bad things could get.

The authors of Degrees of Risk say the science of climate change is inherently complex because it describes the dynamics of a multi-dimensional, “non-linear” system, involving many sub-systems and networks of adverse “cascade effects”.

“Some responses to increasing levels of greenhouse gases are relatively linear and able to be projected well by climate models” but other responses are “non-linear, characterised by sudden changes, rather than smooth progress, which take the system from one discrete state to another, possibly with system cascades” where one change touches off a chain of changes.

“Factors contributing to this non-linearity include the existence of tipping points – polar ice sheets [melting], for example – where a threshold exists beyond which large, system-level change will be initiated, and positive feedbacks [that is, self-reinforcing loops] drive further change.

“In a period of rapid warming, most major tipping points, once crossed, are irreversible on human time frames”.

The authors’ message to regulators of the financial system is that the risk to banks and businesses at degrees of warming of anything like 3 or 4 degrees are huge, but so uncertain as to be unmeasurable. We need to act on the precautionary principle of significantly reducing emissions now, so we never get to find out how bad it could be.

The more prosaic message I draw is that we mustn’t kid ourselves that climate change is just another problem with unpopular solutions that we’ll muddle through as we always do.

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Afterpay tells us we're suckers for the illusion of 'free'

There’s more to be learnt - sorry, there are more “learnings” – from the phenomenal success of Aussie “fintech” start-up Afterpay before it drifts off into corporate history. Learnings about human nature, public policy and what switched-on economists call “market design”.

Economists need to do more thinking about the way markets are – and should be – designed. The sub-discipline of market design recognises that, increasingly in the real world – especially the digital world – markets don’t work in the simple, transparent, what-you-pay-is-what-you-get way assumed by economics textbooks.

This means there’s more scope for “market failure” – market forces not delivering the benefits that economic theory promises they will.

Afterpay’s first “learning” is that, far from being “rational” – carefully calculating – consumers (and taxpayers) are hugely attracted by the illusion that something is free. Afterpay’s success seems explained by Millennials being greatly attracted by its promise to let them BNPL - buy now, pay later - without charging any interest.

It seems young people are turning away from credit cards and their very high interest rates in favour of BNPL. When you think about it, however, you see there isn’t much difference between a credit card and an Afterpay BNPL interest-free loan.

A standard credit card is also an interest-free BNPL loan provided you pay it off at the end of the month, in full and on the dot. Fail to manage that, however, and you soon see how high credit card interest rates are.

(Warning to all lawyers and judges: apparently, your legal learning robs you of the ability to understand the argument that follows. To a lawyer, any payment to a lender can’t be a payment of interest unless it’s wearing a label that says “interest” and is expressed as a percentage of the amount lent. You’d all make good Millennials.)

With an Afterpay BNPL loan, it’s only interest-free if you make four equal fortnightly repayments on time. If you’re late with a repayment, you’re charged a $10 late fee. And if you’re more than a week late you’re charged another $7.

The usurious nature of these charges is disguised by their small absolute size (but the amount borrowed is also pretty small) and by our practice of expressing interest rates on an annual basis (this loan is only for eight weeks, not 52).

But that’s not all. As Milton Friedman didn’t win his Nobel prize for discovering, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Even if the borrower using either a credit card or BNPL manages to repay their loan without incurring any penalty, the lender still has to receive the equivalent of an interest payment to make the transaction worth funding.

In the case of both credit cards and Afterpay loans, this is achieved by a “merchant fee” paid by the retailer that made the sale. The fee is a percentage of the amount lent although, in the case of Afterpay, it’s a huge 4 to 6 per cent plus a flat 30c. (My guess is the 30c is there to fool lawyers into thinking the fee couldn’t possibly be payment of interest).

Whatever the reason, Afterpay has managed to convince the lawyers that, since BNPL obviously has nothing to do with borrowing and lending, it cannot be subject to the Credit Act, meaning Afterpay is not subject to the “responsible lending obligation” and so escapes the expensive obligation to do credit checks and verify the borrower’s ability to repay the debt. (We’re assured, however, that Afterpay and its many imitators are subjecting themselves to a voluntary code of conduct.)

This raises another “learning” right there. Almost invariably, the many market disrupters produced by the digital revolution – including Uber and Airbnb – amount to the combination of a genuine, productivity-enhancing innovation (something every economist wants to encourage) and a trumped-up claim that, because we’re so new and different, none of the regulation that shackles the existing industry applies to us.

“Their workers are employees, ours aren’t. The firms we’re disrupting have to provide employee super contributions, annual and sick leave, and workers compensation insurance, as well as comply with health and safety requirements, but we don’t.”

This, of course, is why we’re developing a two-class workforce, where those unfortunate enough to be able to find work only in the “gig economy” have badly paid, precarious employment with bad conditions and few rights.

The thought that this regression to feudal conditions for some should be allowed to persist in an economy as rich as ours is utterly repugnant. And to respond to it by introducing a universal basic income is an admission of defeat.

But before we leave Afterpay, there’s another learning. Using merchant fees to hide the interest cost of BNPL schemes, whether credit cards or Afterpay-style, involves an arrangement that’s both inefficient and unfair. It encourages retailers to recover the effective interest cost by raising their prices to all their customers, thus obliging those who pay cash or with a debit card to subsidise those who choose to BNPL.

Afterpay prohibits retailers from recouping the cost by asking those who choose BNPL to pay a surcharge. Just as Visa and Mastercard used to prohibit retailers from imposing a surcharge on those who choose to pay by credit card.

For obvious reasons, the promoters of supposedly interest-free loans want the true cost of this free lunch to remain hidden. The Reserve Bank – which has oversight of payment system regulation – laboured for years to get the prohibition on credit-card surcharges outlawed, and finally succeeded.

These days, credit-card surcharges have become common. My guess is that these surcharges, not just the advent of Afterpay and its imitators, help explain the big shift from credit to debit cards. This is just what the Reserve wanted to see.

But it’s utterly inconsistent for the authorities to stop the banks from banning surcharges while allowing Afterpay to ban them. Maybe they’re applying some kind of infant-industry argument. Let them get established, then rope them into the regulatory fold.

Final learning: look around and you find our human susceptibility to the illusion of “free” in lots of places. Starting close to home, free-to-air television and – until Google and Facebook stole our business model – almost-free newspapers and websites were so much a part of the furniture that it was easy to forget that the cost of all the advertising they carried was buried in the cost of most of the things we buy.

The internet still carries a host of free sites with interesting and useful information, even if the legacy newspaper companies have finally moved to making most of their money via subscriptions.

Then there are Google and Facebook, for whom the market-design people have invented a new bit of jargon. They are “multi-sided platforms” whose ostensibly free services are paid for by selling to advertisers the myriad information the platforms have gathered about the preferences, actions and locality of their users.

But our love of the supposedly free – our preference for having the true cost of things hidden from our sight – applies just as much to us as taxpayers. It took the Liberals a long time to realise how much voters loved Medicare, and didn’t want it fiddled with. Why the great love? Bulk billing. The way it makes visits to GPs and hospitals appear free.

Despite all their speeches on the evils of higher taxes, the Libs (like Labor) have never needed to be told of the one tax increase we don’t mind because we don’t see it: bracket creep. When it comes to kidding ourselves, we’re past masters.

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If Afterpay's interest-free loans sound too good to be true . . .

If you’ll forgive a bean-counter’s lament, it’s a pity our success at the Olympics overshadowed our much rarer, more valuable, commercial success, when two young Aussie entrepreneurs sold their business, Afterpay, to the American financial technology giant, Square, owned by Twitter co-founder Jack Dorsey, for $39 billion – making it our biggest-ever company takeover. Oh the honour, the glory, the recognition for poor little Australia!

Yes, I am laying it on a bit thick. It’s certainly a big deal but, as my mum used to say, I hae ma doots about how pleased we should be to see Afterpay and its ilk inflicted on our own young people, let alone young people around the world.

But welcome to the mysterious world of “fintech” – the application of the internet and digital technology to the formerly boring world of paying for things, borrowing money and moving it around.

We’re witnessing the migration to online retailing, we’ve seen Uber shake up – or shake down – the taxi industry, seen Airbnb do over the hotel industry, seen the digital disruption of the media moguls, and now it’s the banks’ turn in the firing line.

All these innovations have taken off because, whatever they’ve done to the careers and livelihoods of people working in the affected industries, they’ve brought benefits – often just greater convenience – that consumers find attractive.

The global tech behemoths – particularly Apple, with its Apple Pay – are moving in on the banks’ territory, while a host of start-up businesses are thinking of new ways to provide a financial service the banks don’t. The big banks are unlikely to take this lying down, but so far they haven’t done much.

This is where Afterpay comes in. In 2014, Nick Molnar and Anthony Eisen came up with a new way to BNPL – buy now, pay later; get with it – without having to pay interest. You buy something from a retailer – usually for a modest sum, say $1000 or less – then pay off the purchase price in four equal fortnightly instalments.

That’s it. No more to pay. Unlike the old practice of buying things on lay-by, with BNPL you get your hands on the purchase at the beginning, not the end.

The scheme has proved really popular with people under the age of 30 – who seem to have an aversion to using credit cards and the high interest rates that go with them. So you don’t just have one BNPL loan, you probably have several.

The idea’s been so popular that Afterpay’s had a number of competitors spring up, each with slightly different repayment rules. At first it was assumed Afterpay would be hit by last year’s lockdown but, but with everyone stuck at home and buying things online, its business has exploded.

You might imagine it’s making huge profits – especially considering what the Americans are prepared to pay for it – but that’s often not the way success works in the digital startup space, where the emphasis is on funding rapid expansion. Afterpay has yet to declare a profit – or a dividend. But don’t look at the profit, feel the rocketing share price.

By now, however, I trust your bulldust detector is flashing. They lend you money, but they don’t charge interest? There must be a catch. Two, in fact. The first is that Afterpay charges the retailer a “merchant fee” of 4 to 6 per cent of the value of the transaction, plus 30c.

So, it’s the retailer that pays the interest – in the first instance, anyway. And when you remember we think in terms of annual interest rates, 4 to 6 per cent on a loan for just eight weeks is a pretty steep rate.

How does the retailer cover the cost of the “merchant fee”? By raising the prices it charges – to the extent that competition allows. This could well mean customers who don’t use Afterpay help cover the costs of those who do.

But the second way Afterpay recoups the equivalent of interest is by charging a flat $10 fee for a late fortnightly payment. If the payment is still outstanding after a week, a further $7 is charged. On a $150 fortnightly repayment, $10 would be a quite hefty penalty interest rate.

But whereas all this looks and smells like interest payments to a bean-counter like me, it doesn’t to a lawyer. So the BNPL game isn’t subject to the Credit Act that regulates other lenders, including its responsible lending obligation, which requires the lender to perform credit checks and verify a customer’s income and ability to repay.

Someone who borrowed no more than they could afford to repay would come to no harm. But not all of us are so self-controlled and worldly-wise. Especially when we’re young.

I suspect the authorities are pleased to see the fintechs putting our hugely profitable banks under competitive pressure, and will leave it a while before they bring the innovators into the regulated fold. Until then, some poor people may learn financial literacy the hard way.

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Banks: bad guys one minute; put-upon credit providers the next

With Scott Morrison hit by a seemingly unending series of headline-making problems, his standard techniques for dealing with them are getting easier to detect. He sees them not so much as policy deficiencies to be rectified as political embarrassments to be “managed” away.

One technique is to tough it out, hoping the media caravan will soon lose interest and move on. When that doesn’t work you give the appearance of responding to the outcry without actually doing much. Call an inquiry of some sort – maybe, if the pressure continues, even three or four different inquiries – then say you can’t act, or even discuss the matter further, until the inquiry has reported many months hence.

I’m finding it hard to avoid the suspicion this is how he’s dealing with the huge – and hugely expensive – problems in aged care. When Four Corners came up with (yet another) expose of the mistreatment of old people in institutional care as the election approached in 2019, he neutralised it as an election issue by promising a royal commission.

The commission’s hearings and interim report confirmed our suspicions that mistreatment was widespread. While releasing the interim report, Morrison announced that quite some millions would be spent on measures that sounded like they should help ease the problem – a bit.

When he released the commission’s final report early this month, he announced more millions of spending on this and that, promising the government’s full response to the commission’s multi-billion-dollar recommendations would be revealed in the May budget.

He seemed open to the idea of using an increase in the Medicare income-tax levy to cover the massive cost, but Treasurer Josh Frydenberg lost little time in hosing down that possibility. Aged care has hardly been mentioned again from that day to this.

Why do I have a terrible feeling that, should aged care not come back on the media agenda between now and budget night, what’s announced will be only a token response to the continuing and worsening problem?

You see a similar trickiness in the government’s response to the widespread complaints about the behaviour of the banks and other financial institutions. Those complaints led to repeated calls for a royal commission.

Malcolm Turnbull and his treasurer, Morrison, went for ages fobbing off these demands – denying there was a problem. But when some government backbenchers threatened to support an opposition motion for an inquiry, Turnbull had no choice but to relent.

The hearings by former High Court judge Kenneth Hayne revealed endless instances of financial “misconduct” and received months of media coverage.

Hayne’s final report lobbed just a few months before the 2019 election. Morrison’s successor as Treasurer, Frydenberg, immediately announced he was “taking action on all 76 recommendations” and “going further”. This apparently wholehearted acceptance of the recommendations defused bank misconduct as an issue in the election campaign.

It’s now two years since Frydenberg’s commitment. Professor Kevin Davis, of Melbourne University, says the government has yet to implement 44 of the commission’s recommendations, and has turned its back on five key reforms.

Frydenberg initially accepted the proposal to outlaw the practice of mortgage brokers being remunerated by the lending banks with a commission based on a percentage of the size of the loan. But, after industry lobbying, Frydenberg let it stand, replacing it with an obligation that brokers act in the best interests of their customers.

Hayne’s very first recommendation was that the existing “responsible lending obligation” – making it illegal to offer credit that was unsuitable for a consumer based on their needs and capacity to make payments – not be changed.

But, last September, Frydenberg announced that this obligation had been costly to lenders and was delaying the approval of loans. The present principle of “lender beware” would be replaced with a “borrower responsibility”. Legislation to bring this about is awaiting approval in the Senate.

It’s a “reform” that’s been welcomed by the banks, but vigorously opposed by Davis, various legal academics, consumer groups, the Financial Rights Legal Centre, Financial Counselling Australia – and my co-religionists at the Salvos, whose free Moneycare financial counselling service is offered at about 85 sites across Australia.

Like all the critics, the Salvos note the “asymmetry of knowledge and power” between consumers and the providers of financial services. The credit products offered have become increasingly complex and opaque. “Our experience is that understanding these products requires an above average level of literacy and financial literacy,” they say.

The proposed reduction in the scope of responsible lending obligations would reduce regulatory oversight and thus increase the risks for borrowers. “Our overwhelming evidence [from] delivering financial counselling in Australia for the past 30 years is that credit remains too easily accessible and that this has devastating consequences for the people we support . . .

“For people already experiencing, or at risk of, financial hardship, easier access to credit may mean they will get caught in a cycle of increasing debt. This has significant implications for physical and mental health.”

I fear the Salvos are right.

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It's official: too much banking is bad for you

When the newish boss of the International Monetary Fund, Bulgarian economist Kristalina Georgieva, contemplates the challenges of the new decade, she thinks of many things: increasing uncertainty, climate change and increasing inequality – particularly the role the financial sector in making it worse.

Georgieva foresees increasing uncertainty over geopolitical tensions, uncertainty that the trade truce between the US and China will last, and uncertainty that governments can fix the frustrations and growing populist unrest in many countries. "We know this uncertainty harms business confidence, investment and growth," she said in a recent speech.

On climate change, after observing that the "brush fires" blazing across Australia are a reminder of the toll on life that climate change exacts, she avoids saying that we are possibly the most vulnerable among the rich countries (something that might have surprised the she’ll-be-right Scott Morrison).

But she did note that it’s often the poorest and most vulnerable countries that bear the brunt of "this unfolding existential challenge". "The World Bank estimates that unless we alter the current climate path an additional 100 million people may be living in extreme poverty by 2030," she says.

The previous decade saw the rich world’s economists become much more conscious of the economic importance of inequality, with the IMF’s economists at the forefront of this realisation. "We know that excessive inequality hinders growth and hollows out a country’s foundations. It erodes trust within society and institutions. It can fuel populism and political upheaval," she says.

Many people think of using the budget to reduce inequality, which they should, "but too often we overlook the role of the financial sector, which can also have a profound and long-lasting positive or negative effect on inequality," she says.

"Our new staff research shows how a well-functioning financial sector can create new opportunities for all in the decade ahead. But it also shows how a poorly managed financial sector can amplify inequality."

"Financial deepening" refers to the size of a country’s financial services sector relative to its entire economy. Georgieva notes that, on one hand, developing countries benefit from the growth of their undeveloped financial sectors as small businesses and ordinary households gain access to credit and saving and insurance products.

The sustained growth in the financial sectors of China and India during the 1990s, for instance, paved the way for enormous economic gains in the 2000s. This, in turn, helped in lifting a billion people out of poverty.

On the other hand, the IMF’s latest research shows there’s a point at which financial deepening is associated with exacerbated inequality and less-inclusive growth. Many factors contribute to inequality, but the connection between excessive financial deepening holds across countries, she says.

Why is too much "financialisation" of an economy a bad thing? "Our thinking is that while poorer individuals benefit in the early stages of deepening, over time the growing size and complexity of the financial sector end up primarily helping the wealthy.

"The negative impact is especially visible where financial sectors are already very deep. Here, complicated financial instruments, influential lobbyists, and excessive compensation in the banking industry lead to a system that serves itself as much as it serves others."

The US has one of the most diversified economies in the world (it has a lot of everything). And yet, in 2006, financial services firms comprised nearly a quarter of the S&P500 share index and generated almost 40 per cent of all profits. (Read that again if it doesn’t amaze you.) Obviously, this made the financial sector the single biggest and most profitable part of the whole sharemarket.

Does that strike you as out of whack? What happened next – the global financial crisis and the Great Recession – tells us that excessive financial sectors increase the risk of financial instability and collapse.

The painfully slow recovery from that episode of financial crisis was the defining issue of the past decade. Research shows that, on average, a country’s financial crisis leads to a permanent loss of output (gross domestic product) of 10 per cent. This can cause a lasting change in the country’s direction and leave many people behind (as the Americans, with their opioid and middle-aged male suicide crises, know only too well).

The IMF’s latest research shows that inequality tends to increase before a financial crisis, suggesting a strong link between inequality and financial instability. But also, of course, the subsequent recession usually leads to a long-term worsening in inequality.

Much effort has been made since the global financial crisis to make the banks more stable and better regulated. But no one imagines this guarantees there couldn’t be another major crisis.

Georgieva says financial stability will remain a challenge in the decade ahead – for all the usual reasons, but also for "climate-related shocks". "Think of how stranded assets [such as now-unviable coal-fired power stations or coal mines] can trigger unexpected loss," she says. "Some estimates suggest the potential costs of devaluing these assets range from $US4 trillion to $US20 trillion."

The private sector and the banking industry, not just governments, have a critical role to play in making the financial system more stable, she says. That’s certainly the case when it comes to the climate’s effect on financial stability.

"The financial sector can play a critical role in moving the world to net zero carbon emissions and reaching the targets of the Paris agreement. To get there, firms will need to better price climate change impacts in their loans.

"Last year, climate change claimed its first bankruptcy of an S&P500 company. It is clear investors are looking for ways to adapt. If the price of a loan for an at-risk project increases, companies may simply decide the money for the project could be better spent elsewhere."

What has stopping climate change got to do with inequality? If we don’t, the consequences will fall hardest on the world’s poor (and Australians).

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Lowe should rescue a PM lost in the Canberra bubble

Dr Philip Lowe, governor of the Reserve Bank, is one of the smartest economists in the land. You don’t get a PhD from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology unless you’re super-sharp. But the question now is whether he has the courage to stand up to a wilful Prime Minister whose confidence far exceeds his comprehension.

Scott Morrison, as we know, is refusing to do what Lowe – with the support of the international agencies and most of our economists – has been begging him to do: use his budget to come to the rescue of monetary policy and its ever-feebler efforts to stop the economy slowing almost to stalling-speed.

Morrison is desperate to deliver a budget surplus. So desperate he’s convinced himself that failing to do so would cost him more political support than would allowing the economy to continue failing to lift voters’ living standards, and be so weak that a shock from abroad could push us into recession.

How any politician could come to such a self-harming conclusion is hard to fathom. Perhaps it’s that the 28 years since our last severe recession have robbed the latest generation of Liberal pollies of their economic nous.

Morrison’s so green he hasn’t learnt the first rule of politics: if you stuff up the economy, they throw you out. If that’s news to you, remember the 1961 credit squeeze, which brought Bob Menzies within a whisker of having his career cut short.

Remember how the 1975 recession dispatched with Gough Whitlam, the recession of the early 1980s finished Malcolm Fraser and the 1990 recession caught up with Paul Keating despite a one-term reprieve granted by Liberal fumbling of the 1993 election.

The question for Lowe is how he responds to the Prime Minister’s misreading of his own best interests (not to mention ours). Does Lowe stand back and watch an overconfident leader dice with political death by pretending that monetary policy hasn’t reached the end of its useful life and that blood can still be squeezed from the stone? Or does he announce he’s done all he sensibly can and turn the economy’s problem back to the one (elected) person who could fix it if he came to his senses?

Conventional monetary policy (interest-rate manipulation) has lost most of its power because household debt is at record levels, because the official interest rate is almost at zero, and because rates are already so low that another few cuts won’t make much difference.

Further, as Lowe explained in his speech last week, there’s little to be gained from deciding to progress to QE – "quantitative easing". It’s not capable of lowering rates much further and, in any case, comes at a cost.

As Lowe himself has acknowledged, it creates a moral hazard. For as long as Lowe pretends monetary policy is still effective, he’s running cover for the person who could do something effective, but chooses not to.

And it’s not just the absence of a positive, it’s also the continuation of a negative. Everything that causes the budget to take more out of the economy than it puts back in government spending causes private demand to be weaker.

Consider the way continuing bracket creep (only partly countered by the new middle income-earners’ tax offset) takes a bigger bite out of households’ wage income before they can spend it. Fiscal policy is actually counteracting monetary policy.

In his speech outlining the "limitations of monetary policy" and his lack of enthusiasm for unconventional measures, Lowe noted that their modest benefits needed to be balanced against their possible adverse side-effects.

Such as? First, they may change incentives in an unhelpful way. Providing the banks with ready liquidity during emergencies may encourage them not to bother holding their own adequate buffers, thus making further crises more likely.

Similarly, "the willingness of a central bank to use its full range of policy instruments might create an inaction bias by other policymakers [and] this could lead to an over-reliance on monetary policy," he said. But which policymakers could he possibly have in mind?

A second possible side effect is reducing the efficiency with which resources are allocated throughout the economy. Low interest rates and flattening the yield curve (pushing long-term interest rates down to the level of short-term rates) can damage banks’ profitability, leaving them with less capacity to lend.

There are also risks to the stability of the financial system when low interest rates cause the prices of property or shares (and borrowing) to boom at a time when the economy’s actually weak.

Finally, a third side-effect is a blurring of the lines between monetary policy and fiscal policy. "If the central bank is buying large amounts of government debt at zero interest rates, this could be seen as money-financed government spending," and so damage a country’s credibility internationally.

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QE: not certain, not soon, no great help, no let-out for govt

The big economic development this week was Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe giving the financial markets’ expectations about QE – “quantitative easing” - and other unconventional monetary policy an almighty hosing down.

In his speech on Tuesday he disabused the financial markets of the notion that, as soon as the Reserve had cut the official interest rate to zero, it would be on with QE and business as unusual.

Equally, he disabused our surplus-fixated government of any notion that his resort to unconventional monetary policy (manipulation of interest rates) would relieve it of the need to use conventional fiscal policy (budget measures) to get the economy moving again.

Lowe’s first act was to pooh-pooh most of the unconventional policies the letters QE conjure up in the minds of excitable market players. He identified four possible tools and rejected two and a half of them.

Let’s start with “forward guidance” – the notion of the central bank seeking to improve the confidence of consumers and firms by making its intentions on interest rates unmistakably clear. Great idea, he said, which is why he’d be doing it for ages and would keep doing it. Interest rates, he said, “will remain low for an extended period”.

Second is “extended liquidity operations”. During the global financial crisis in 2008, many central banks made significant changes to their usual ways of dealing with banks.

This was when financial markets were so disrupted that banks were too worried about their own finances to want to keep lending to ordinary businesses, threatening to crunch the economy.

Central banks dramatically increased their lending to banks, lent against the security of assets other than government bonds, lent for longer periods and lent at discounted rates of interest.

That is, they did what anyone with any sense would do to calm a crisis. Most of these extraordinary arrangements were soon unwound after calm had been restored. The Reserve itself had done some of them.

Would it do the same again should another crisis occur? Of course. At present, however, everything was working normally and our banks were able borrow as much as they needed – here or from abroad - at reasonable interest rates. So forget that one.

The third unconventional measure Lowe listed was “negative interest rates”. We used to assume that interest rates couldn’t go below zero, but things have become so desperate in Japan and then Europe – but nowhere else – that central banks have started paying banks negative interest rates. Governments have issued bonds at negative yields. That is, the borrower doesn’t pay the lender, the lender pays the borrower.

“Unconventional” doesn’t do justice to such a topsy-turvy world. It was long assumed that if banks started charging people to deposit their money, most of them would keep their money in cash under the bed. Lowe says there’s been a bit of that, but not much.

Why not? Partly because the negative rates are tiny – minus 0.5 per cent in the euro area, minus 0.1 per cent in Japan. But mainly because the negative rates have been restricted to charging banks and bond holders. No one’s been mad enough to try it on ordinary businesses or households.

So what are the chances we’d see negative rates here? It’s “extraordinary unlikely”, according to Lowe.

Which brings us finally to “asset purchases”. This is the only one of the four unconventional tools that can be called QE – quantitative easing. The central bank buys financial assets – securities – from the banks, paying for them merely by crediting the banks’ deposit accounts with the central bank.

This adds to the central bank’s liabilities, and to its holdings of financial assets, thus expanding its balance sheet and increasing the supply of money. Many central banks have purchased huge amounts of securities since the financial crisis, the vast majority of them being government bonds.

So, what’s Lowe’s attitude to QE? Well, for openers, he has “no appetite” for buying private sector securities (that’s the half I mentioned). But “if – and it is important to emphasise the word if – the Reserve Bank were to undertake a program of quantitative easing, we would purchase government bonds, and we would do so in the secondary [second-hand] market”. That is, it wouldn’t buy bonds newly issued by the government.

It would do QE because government bonds are assumed to be risk-free, and adding to the demand for bonds would lower the risk-free interest rate – not just for bonds but for all borrowing, from short-term to long-term. This should encourage borrowing and spending, as well as making our industries more price-competitive internationally by further lowering our dollar.

Whoopee-do. The financial markets ride again and monetary policy rolls on, allowing the government to continue putting the state of the budget ahead of the state of the economy.

Not so fast. Lowe said he wouldn’t even start to wonder about QE until we reached the point where the official interest rate had been lowered to 0.25 per cent (which would be as low as it’s possible to go).

And get this: “the threshold for undertaking QE in Australia has not been reached, and I don’t expect it to be reached in the near future.”

But his “threshold” isn’t the official rate down to 0.25 per cent. It’s trickier. “There is not a smooth continuum running from interest rate reductions to quantitative easing. It is a bigger step to engage in money-financed asset purchases by the central bank than it is to cut interest rates.

“In considering the case for QE, we would need to balance [the] positive effects with possible [adverse] side-effects.” Oh, didn’t think of those. He implied that he wouldn’t move to QE unless he was convinced we’d begun moving away from the inflation target and full employment.

Finally, having said the official interest rate couldn’t be cut below 0.25 per cent, he then estimated the scope for using QE to lower interest rates was no more than 0.2 percentage points. Sound like a magic wand to you?

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Money is created by the banks, not the government

Just for a change, let’s talk about money. What? Don’t economists always talk about money? Well, yes, in the sense that almost all the things they talk about are valued in monetary terms. But otherwise, no, they rare talk about money as such.

Sometimes I think economics is about finding a host of synonyms for the word "money". Why do you go to work? To make money, of course. But economists prefer to say you earn a wage. Or, if you’re a big shot, a salary.

Businesses sell us things to get money, but economists prefer to say they make sales to generate turnover which, after they’ve paid out a lot of money on wages and rent and many other expenses, leaves them with money called income or profit.

Economists do talk specifically about money, but they define it much more narrowly. Consider this: how would you like to live in a barter economy, where you’re paid with some of whatever it is you’ve helped produce, then have to exchange those things with other people for some of the things they’d help produce?

It would be a hugely cumbersome and time-consuming business. Which is why, a long time ago, someone invented money. We get paid with money, which we use to buy the things we need. Much simpler and easier.

That’s what economists mean by money – a means of paying for things; a "medium of exchange". To an economist, money has little intrinsic value. It’s the things it buys that are valuable.

Economists mainly focus on those valuable things – what’s happening to them and how they work - and ignore the money used to buy and sell them.

It’s true, of course, that economists and the rest of us put dollar values on all those things – prices of the goods and services we buy, the value of the houses and other assets we sell.

Expressing the value of so many and varied things in dollars makes it easier to compare them, add and subtract them. So another part of economists’ definition of money is that it’s used as a "unit of account".

(This, however, exposes a big limitation of economics. There are a lot of important things in life and the economy whose value or cost can’t be reduced to a dollar figure. Things like love, trust, honesty, anxiety and stress. Economists are always forgetting to take account of factors than can’t be measured in dollars.)

Of course, not all the money than comes our way is spent immediately. Some of it we save to spend later – sometimes much later. Which means the third requirement money must fulfil is to be a good "store of value".

That’s why we need to keep the rate of inflation low and steady (and why Bitcoin doesn’t rate as money).

But now we’re clear on what money is, the big question is: where does it come from? How is it created?

Well, we know that coins and banknotes come from the government. Notes are printed in Melbourne by the Reserve Bank; coins are made in Canberra by the Royal Australian Mint. The Reserve sells to the banks all the notes and coins they want.

But notes and coins account for less than 4 per cent of all the money in circulation. Most of us hold most of our money on deposit with the banks.

In principle, the Australian dollar is a creation of the Australian government. Like almost every currency these days, it’s a "fiat" currency – meaning it has no intrinsic value: notes are just pieces of paper, and the metal used to make a $2 coin is worth a small fraction of $2. An Australian $50 note is worth $A50 purely because the government says it is.

This also means the government could print – or credit to people’s bank accounts – as many dollars as it wanted to (though not without ramifications).

But here’s the trick: although that is true in principle, in practice money is created by the banks. As Emma Doherty, Ben Jackman and Emily Perry explained in the Reserve Bank’s Bulletin last year, money is created when banks make loans.

The bank either puts the loan money directly into its customer’s deposit account, or pays it into the account of the business selling whatever it is its customer needed the loan to buy. Either way, since money is notes and coins ("currency") plus bank deposits, the amount of money in circulation has just increased.

Amazing, eh? But before you run away with the idea that a bank could create as much money as it wanted to, there are two further points to understand.

First, there are obvious limits on how much money the banks can create. For a start, they’re not giving it way, they’re lending it. They must have a customer wanting to borrow at the interest rate charged, and likely to be able to repay it.

And the banks also need to be in a position to make the loan. They must keep a sufficient share of their assets in liquid form (cash) to be able to meet any withdrawals the new borrower makes from their account, as well as to meet any withdrawals by existing borrowers.

This pretty much means they need to attract more cash deposits to support the loan they just made. The banks’ loans need to be backed up by enough capital, supplied by shareholders, in case borrowers can’t repay their loans or other bank assets fall in value.

All this is necessary to ensure the banks don’t collapse. So these factors imply that creating money comes at a cost to the banks, which limits the extent to which they can increase their loans.

Second, an individual bank can’t create money in this way, only the banking system as a whole can. That’s because the bank that initiates the loan can’t be sure that all the loan money spent comes back to it as deposits. Some of it will, but most may go to other banks.

Next week it’s back to talking about the things we do with money.

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It’s not business-bashing, it’s the public’s moment of truth

With the federal election campaign being fought over which side will do the better job of re-regulating the banks, the energy companies and business generally, big business seems to be going through the stages of grief. It’s reached denial.

According to the Australian Financial Review, the Business Council of Australia is most put out that the Morrison government has yielded to pressure from Labor and some Nationals to support a bill making it easier for smaller businesses to take legal action against big businesses.

Apparently, Scott Morrison and his lieutenants had the temerity to make the decision without giving the council an opportunity for private lobbying.

Which would have been intend to avoid “harmful unintended consequences,” including any possible drag on the economy. Of course.

Apparently, it’s just another instance of the growing level of “business bashing” in this campaign.

Sorry, guys, you’ve got to have a better argument than that. Accusing your critics of business-bashing or teacher-bashing or bank-bashing is what you say when you haven’t got a defence and are succumbing to a persecution complex.

It makes you and your mates feel better, but that’s all.

It’s a refusal to accept any responsibility for the bad performance of which people are complaining. Since it’s entirely the fault of others – usually, the government – any attempt to make me and my mates bare our share of responsibility can be explained only by ignorance and malice.

Such denial offers big business no way forward. Much better to admit there’s a fair bit of truth to the criticisms and accept that your performance will have to be a lot better.

The Business Council needs to admit to itself that this is not some passing phase of populist madness, it’s the end of the line for the “bizonomics” that micro-economic reform degenerated into – the belief that what’s good for big business is good for the economy.

The simple truth is that, when you go for years abusing your market power, the electorate eventually wakes up and hits back, threatening to toss out any government that isn’t prepared to set things to rights.

Now the scales of economic fundamentalism have fallen from our eyes, who could doubt that big businesses use their superior power – including their ability to afford the best legal advice – to unreasonably impose their will on smaller businesses, just as they impose incomprehensible and utterly non-negotiable terms and conditions on their customers. Like it or lump it.

One of the greatest weaknesses of “perfect competition” – the oversimplified model of market behaviour that permeates the thinking of economists, both consciously and unconsciously – is its implicit assumption that the parties to economic transactions are of roughly equal bargaining power.

In the era of oligopoly, however – where so many markets are dominated by four or even two huge corporations - nothing could be further from the truth.

It’s thus perfectly reasonable for governments to intervene in markets to bolster the bargaining power of the smaller and weaker parties – whether employees permitted to bargain collectively and go on strike, small businesses helped to seek legal redress from much bigger businesses, or customers protected from misleading advertising, high-pressure selling and other abuses.

It’s because economists’ thinking is so deeply infected by their model’s unrealistic assumptions that they fell for the notion that merely providing consumers with more information on labels and in “product statements” (quickly sabotaged by being turned into pages of legalese) would protect them from exploitation.

Though oligopolies have existed for decades, economists have put remarkably little effort into studying how they work and, more particularly, how they can be regulated to ensure the economies of scale they have been designed to capture are passed through to their customers.

The trouble is that oligopolies do all they can to avoid competing on price.

A part of this is offering a range of products that are almost impossible to compare with other firms’ products.

In the complex, busy world we live in, it’s utterly unrealistic to expect ordinary consumers to devote hours of precious leisure time to checking to see whether their present provider of bank accounts, credit cards, mortgages, mobile phones, electricity, gas and even superannuation is quietly taking advantage of them.

This is the case for government regulation to impose standardised comparisons and default products, statutory guarantees, legal obligations to act in the client’s best interests, and much else.

The other thing we’ve learnt in recent times – from the banking inquiry and many other examples – is that if businesses large and small are confident they won’t get caught, there’s no certainty they’ll obey the law.

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Having stuffed-up deregulation, don't stuff-up re-regulation

As the banking royal commission finishes, the aged care royal commission begins investigating the mistreatment of old people by – taking a wild guess – mainly the for-profit providers. Surely it won’t be long before the politicians, responding to the public’s shock and outrage, are swearing to really toughen up the regulation of aged care facilities.

It’s not hard to see we’ve passed the point of “peak deregulation” and governments will now be busy responding to the electorate’s demands for tighter regulation of an ever-growing list of industries found to have abused the trust of economic reformers past.

But having gone for several decades under-regulating many industries and employers, there’s a high risk we’ll now swing to the opposite extreme of over-regulation. That could happen if politicians simply respond to populist pressures to wield the big stick against greedy business people.

It could happen if politicians yield to one of the great temptations of our spin-doctoring age: caring more about being seen to be acting decisively than whether those actions actually do much good.

And it could happen if our econocrats refuse to admit the shortcomings of their earlier advocacy of deregulation – including their naive confidence that the power of market forces would ensure businesses treated their customers well – and go into a sulk, washing their hands of responsibility for what happens next.

But against all those risks that, in seeking to correct the failures of the previous regime we introduce something that’s just as bad only different, there’s one cause for optimism: as the first cab off the re-regulatory rank, Commissioner Kenneth Hayne’s guiding principles for turning things around. (To be fair, those principles seem to have been influenced by Treasury’s submission to the commission.)

His first principle is that, since almost all the misconduct he uncovered was already unlawful, there’s no need for a raft of legislation to make them doubly illegal. The problem is more getting people to obey the existing law.

Blindingly obvious? Not to a politician who wants to be seen by an angry but uncomprehending public to be acting immediately and decisively. On the rare occasions when Australia is touched by a terrorist act, we see Parliament recalled to pass urgent legislation making terrorism quintuplely illegal.

Hayne’s second principle is that compliance will be increased by making the law simpler, rather than more complex, so no one can be in any doubt about what’s required of them.

The more complex and voluminous you make the law, the more scope you give well-resourced offenders to pay lawyers to find loopholes and argue the toss and string out court proceedings. In the process, increasing the cost to taxpayers of bringing them to justice, increasing the likelihood of them getting off and increasing the reluctance of the regulators to take them on in the first place.

Hayne says the whole body of law needs to be rewritten to simplify and clarify the legislators’ intentions. In the meantime, however, some changes should be made more quickly.

One is to get rid of exceptions, carve-outs and qualifications. Examples are the “grandfathering” (leaving existing arrangements unaffected by new rules) of certain commissions, and the exclusion of funeral insurance from rules affecting other insurance.

As two law professors from the University of Melbourne have pointed out, the rule of law requires like cases to be treated alike. To make exceptions you need powerful arguments – which haven’t been made.

“Instead,” they say, “exceptions and carve-outs reflect the lobbying of powerful industry groups concerned to preserve their own self-interest.” True. There’s no principle of deregulation that says it’s OK to look after your mates.

In highlighting the shortcomings of existing legislation, Hayne stressed that “where possible, conflicts of interest and conflicts between duty and interest [such as not acting in the best interests of your client] should be removed”.

But his final guiding principle is that existing laws must be enforced. “Too often, financial services entities that broke the law were not properly held to account. Misconduct will be deterred only if entities believe that misconduct will be detected, denounced and justly punished,” he said.

Just so. And it raises a mode of response to the electorate’s wider discontents, as governments set out on the path of “re-regulating” industries other than financial services: regulations may need improving, but we don’t need a lot more of them.

No, what we need a lot more of is regulators doing – and being seen to be doing – their job of enforcing existing regulations with vigour and effectiveness, and governments being unstinting in providing them with resources.

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Politicians, economists will decide if bank misbehaviour stops

In the wake of the Hayne report on financial misconduct, many are asking whether the banks have really learned their lesson, whether their culture will change and how long it will take. Sorry, that’s just the smaller half of the problem.

You can’t answer those questions until you know whether the politicians and their economic advisers have learned their lesson and whether their culture will change.

Why? Because the game won’t change unless the banks believe it has changed, and that will depend on whether governments (of both colours) and their regulators keep saying and doing things that remind the banks and others on the financial-sector gravy train that the behaviour of the past will no longer go undetected and unpunished.

One of Commissioner Hayne’s most significant findings was that almost all the misbehaviour he uncovered was already illegal. Which raises an obvious query: in that case, why did so much of it happen?

Hayne’s answer was “greed”. That’s true enough, but doesn’t tell us much. Greed has been part of the human condition since before we descended from the trees. But greed has been channelled and held in check by other factors – particularly by social norms that disapprove of it and find ways to censure people who aggrandise themselves are the expense of others. In old times, social ostracism was enough.

So, since banks and other financial outfits haven’t always been willing to exploit their customers the way they have recent decades, the question is: what changed?

One explanation is that the economy’s become a bigger, more complex, more impersonal place, where the exploiter and the exploited don’t know each other. Where the exploitation is carried out by four of the biggest, most sprawling and intricate computer systems in the country.

Where I can spend my obscenely large pay cheque without seeing the faces of the people I’ve ripped off flashing before my eyes. Indeed, in my suburb, all of us get huge pay cheques. And I don’t feel guilty; some of them get much bigger cheques than me.

But another part of the explanation must surely be that things started changing after the triumph of “economic rationalism”, the introduction of microeconomic reform, and the deregulation of the financial sector in the second half of the 1980s.

In the highly regulated world, there was less scope and less incentive to mistreat customers. Competition was limited and there was little innovation. Deregulation was intended to spur competition between the banks and give customers a better deal.

I’m not saying bank deregulation was a bad idea. It did bring innovation (we forget that banking and bill-paying are infinitely more convenient than they were) and you no longer have to live in a good suburb to get a loan from a bank.

And the banks do compete far more fiercely than they used to. It's just that they compete not on price (as the reformers assumed they would) but on market share and which of the big four achieves the biggest profit increase.

In this they’ve behaved just as you’d expect oligopolists to behave.

In the meantime, economic rationalism sanctified greed (the “invisible hand” tells us the market leaves us better off because of the greed of the butcher and the baker) and economists invented euphemisms such as “self-interest” and “the profit motive”.

Then, after economists got the bright idea of using bonuses and share options to align management’s interests with shareholders’, big business elevated “shareholder value” to being companies' sole statutory obligation.

Now, however, when Hayne says the banks gave priority to sales and profits over their customers’ interests, everyone’s rolling around in horror.

And politicians and econocrats are feigning surprise that financial regulators, long given a nod and wink to dispense only “light” regulation of the players (and denied the funding to give them any hope of successful prosecutions), did just as they were told.

Unless the econocrats and their political masters are willing to accept the naivety that marred bank deregulation, the harm ultimately done to bank customers – ranging from petty theft to life-changing loss – and the system’s susceptibility to political corruption, the banks’ culture won’t change because the will to change it won't last.

The existing prohibitions on mistreatment of customers need to be made more effective, as proposed by Hayne but, above all, the law needs to be policed with vigour – including adequately resourced court proceedings – so the banks realise they have no choice but to change.

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