The knowledge economy is behind the soaring price of land

Over the two centuries and more that people have made a serious study of how the economy works, economists have fallen in and out of love with land. At first, they thought it was at the centre of everything, then they decided it wasn’t terribly important. But the wheel may be turning again. In a major speech last month, the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates criticised his profession for its “longstanding intellectual neglect of the economics of land”.

You don’t have to think about housing affordability for long to realise it is not actually the high cost of building a house that’s the problem, it’s the high cost of the land it’s built on.

But why is the cost of land rising much faster than the economy is growing? And why don’t economists take more interest in why this is happening and what we could do about it?

Coates began the annual Henry George Lecture by summarising the history of economists’ waxing and waning interest in land as a resource used to produce goods and services.

The first economists – the Physiocrats – thought of almost nothing other than land, he says. Land was fundamental: agricultural labourers were the source of economic growth, while landlords simply commandeered what the workers produced and flowed it through to the rest of the economy.

The next generation of economists, the “classical” economists of the 18th century, broadened their focus to studying the complex interaction of three “factors of production”: land, labour and (physical) capital.

Adam Smith, a Scotsman known as the father of economics, argued that the “division of labour” – workers specialising in different occupations – and technological innovation were what drove economic growth. But land was still central.

David Ricardo, an English member of parliament, argued that landlords were simply the lucky beneficiaries of land’s natural scarcity (any country has only a fixed amount of it) and its productive capacity, to produce food and fibre and even valuable energy and minerals, Coates says.

And Henry George, the last great classical economist, argued that the rental income enjoyed by landlords must be socialised by taxing the unimproved value of all privately owned land.

Do that, and you wouldn’t need any other taxes. George campaigned hard, but never persuaded any government to follow his advice.

Coates says we “would have done well – possibly much better than we have done – if we’d heeded the lessons of Henry George and paid more attention to the economics of land”.

But in the 19th century the classical economists were replaced by the neo-classical economists, who were a lot less interested in land. And in 1956, the great American economist Robert Solow developed a theory of economic growth, which held that it was improvements in the efficiency with which labour and physical capital (machines and buildings) were combined that drove our standard of living.

The role of land in production - and in inequality - disappeared from the theories economists devised to explain the world, Coates says. Instead, land was treated as just another form of physical capital.

Coates says that “the shifting focus on land in the history of economic thought reflects the changing nature of the economies that economists were trying to explain”.

The Physiocrats observed a world dominated by agriculture. It was obvious that the ownership and use of land determined what got produced, in what quantities. And who got what.

The classical economists watched this world transition through the Industrial Revolution, and the neo-classical economists developed theories for a world that had made that transition.

Economic power started to gravitate towards those who owned capital (whether physical or financial) and away from those who owned land. Agricultural production made way for industrial production.

For most of the 20th century, the neglect of land was of little consequence. More important was the amount of capital invested (to make labour more productive) and the pace of innovation (ditto).

“But as the advanced economies of the world have transitioned again – from manufacturing to services – land is back,” Coates says. Economies powered by intangible capital – how much you know; how much information you can gather – strive or stagnate on the ability of individuals to come together and combine their knowledge and skills.

As any real estate agent will tell you, it’s about “location, location, location”. In Australia, it’s the Grattan Institute that’s done most to help us see that, these days, it’s big cities that drive the economy.

Eighty per cent of the value of all goods and services produced in Australia is generated on just 0.2 per cent of our land. Economic activity is concentrated in CBDs, with the Sydney and Melbourne CBDs accounting for 10 per cent of all economic activity in Australia – more than three times the contribution of agriculture.

This concentration reflects the rise in knowledge-intensive services, clustered together at the hearts of our major cities. The willingness of businesses to pay high rents to locate in the CBDs of our big cities shows the value they gain from access to high-skilled workers and proximity to suppliers, customers and partners.

Similarly, the willingness of workers to pay much higher prices for homes located close to those employment centres shows they, too, see value in being crammed in. Our experience of working from home during the pandemic has changed this a bit – three days in the office rather than five – but not a lot.

All this helps explain why house prices have risen about five times faster than average full-time earnings over the past 25 years. And it means the price of land is a much bigger factor in the economy than it used to be.

It’s leaving existing home owners seemingly much better off, but aspiring home owners much worse off. It’s the product of a clash between the rise of the knowledge economy and our longstanding attitudes towards the taxing and regulation of land.

It should not be beyond the wit of economists to come up with a better approach.

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Greater social inclusion makes us wealthier, not just happier

If you like made-up, clunky words you could call it the humanisation of economics. And it’s one of the most exciting developments in a field most people don’t consider very exciting. It’s the product of economists’ search for reasons why the economies of the developed world have stopped working as well as they used to.

This week our Reserve Bank governor, Philip Lowe, gave a short but sobering speech at a conference of central bankers in Wyoming exploring the deeper, structural reasons why economies – including ours - aren’t growing as fast as they did, and admitting this wasn’t likely to change any time soon.

A big part of the reason for weaker growth is a slower rate of improvement in the productivity of labour – the use of improved technology to increase the output of goods and services per worker.

Also this week, Treasurer Josh Frydenberg gave a long, carefully researched and highly informative speech about the deterioration in our productivity performance. His one controversial proposition has been monstered by the business media, but the speech was an encouraging sign that the Morrison government may be moving from happy slogans to careful consideration of the problems besetting our economy.

Now to my new word, humanisation. Until the past couple of decades, it was relatively easy to achieve high annual rates of productivity improvement by using bigger and better machines to increase the efficiency of our farms, mines and factories in their production of goods.

These days, goods are produced by machines, helped by humans. Services, on the other hand, are delivered by humans helped by machines. Goods have come to account for an ever-smaller share of the value of economic activity, with services contributing an ever-bigger share.

But installing more productive goods-producing machines is a lot easier than making the human providers of services (ranging from prime ministers to scientists, doctors and teachers on to waiters and cleaners) better at their jobs. This does a lot to explain the slowdown in productivity improvement.

So economists have had to turn their minds to humans, and how you make them more productive. An obvious response is to ensure they’re well educated and trained, equipped with the right skills to take them onwards in an ever-changing economy.

Equally obvious is making sure our workers are in good health – mental as well as physical. These are things we could be doing better than we are.

Less obvious is economists’ relatively recent discovery of the economic importance of “place” – where people live and work. Particularly at a time when knowledge has become a more critical ingredient, big cities have become incubators, bringing together talented workers to promote experimentation and learning, as well as enabling the transfer of knowledge. (Bit surprising in an age where digital connections are ubiquitous.)

Another less-obvious realisation is that, in the services sector, productivity depends on creativity and imagination, which drive innovation. Increasingly the services sector is the home of start-ups aimed at finding innovative ways to deliver new and existing services to larger numbers of customers.

This is very touchy-feely stuff for hard-nosed economists. One of our leading economists, Professor Ian Harper, dean of Melbourne Business School, says creativity and imagination “are generally stimulated by human interaction, social creatures that we are".

“And the more diverse we are when we gather, the more we stimulate, challenge and goad one another to greater heights of imagination and creativity.

“But for diversity to work its magic, there must also be inclusion. No matter how diverse we are, without inclusion we remain separated by physical, social, cultural and emotional barriers, and the creative spark is quenched by sameness and group think,” Harper says.

Enter the SBS network, which has commissioned Deloitte Access Economics to study the economic benefits of improving social inclusion.

By this is meant affording all people the best opportunities to enjoy life and prosper in society. It includes the Indigenous, and almost 7 million immigrants, from 270 ancestries, since 1945. All the women who should have more senior jobs. Almost 50,000 same-sex couples, and one in five people with a physical or mental disability.

About a third of small businesses in Australia, representing 1.4 million employees, are run by migrants to Australia, the great majority of whom didn’t own a business before coming here. And most migrants feel socially included.

Greater social inclusion means people are less likely to experience discrimination in employment, less likely to experience health issues, especially anxiety and depression. By lifting wages and workforce participation in districts of socioeconomic disadvantage, the benefits of economic growth can be shared more evenly across the community.

All this could save the taxpayers money, as well as making businesses more productive – which, by Deloitte’s modelling, could yield an economic dividend of more than $12 billion a year. And that’s not to mention the small matter of allowing the individuals to lead happier, more satisfying lives.

For many years economists believed economic efficiency and fairness to be in conflict. You could make the economy a fairer place only by making it a less-rich place.

That’s the economists’ exciting discovery in recent years: if you play your cards right, you can make the world fairer and a bit richer.

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Immigration the cheap and nasty way to grow the economy

The ABC's temerity in hosting a debate about the merits of high population growth has drawn predictable repostes from the economic establishment. Shades of the legendary note in the margin of a politician's speech: "shout here - argument weak".

There are at least four counts against the advocates of high immigration. First, their refusal to engage with the academic environmentalists arguing that we've exceeded the "carrying capacity" of our old and fragile land. Scientists? What would they know?

Second, they keep asserting high immigration's great economic benefits, blithely ignoring the lack of evidence. Whenever the Productivity Commission has examined the issue carefully it's found only small net effects, one way or the other. Its latest modelling found only a "negligible" overall impact.

Third, the advocates not only decline to admit the high social and economic costs that go with high rates of immigration, they decline to accept their share of the tab, doing all they can to shift it to the young, the poor and those on the geographic outer, including many of the migrants.

You rarely hear pro-immigration economists acknowledging the clearest message economic theory gives us on the topic: more population requires more spending on additional public and private infrastructure if material living conditions aren't to deteriorate.

The more we invest in such "capital widening" to stop the ratio of capital to labour declining, the less scope for investment in "capital deepening" to keep the ratio increasing, and so improving the productivity of our labour.

When we fail to invest sufficiently in capital widening – which we have – the decline in living conditions is manifest in overcrowding, traffic congestion and long commuting times.

Why have we failed to invest sufficiently? Partly because a high proportion of the promoters of high immigration are also promoters of Smaller Government, never acknowledging the two are incompatible.

A bigger population requires a bigger government, with more debt, not less. When you persist with high population growth, but put the clamps on government, you end up with overcrowding, congestion and the rest.

Another truth the high immigration advocates refuse to acknowledge is that a much bigger population must lead to much bigger cities and higher-density living in those cities.

The Reserve Bank's estimates of the huge addition to Melbourne and Sydney house prices caused by state governments' acquiescence to resistance to higher density in inner and middle-ring suburbs, are partly a consequence of successful attempts to shift the spatial cost of high immigration onto the less well-placed.

The fourth criticism of high immigration is that it's the cheapest and nastiest way to pursue economic growth. You get a bigger economy, but not the promised benefits. The studies repeatedly fail to show high immigration leads to a significant increase in real income per person.

Of course, the business lobby has no reason to care whether high immigration yields economy-wide benefits. All they're after is a bigger domestic market, allowing them to sell more widgets, make a higher profit and justify a bigger salary package.

Few economists can see this is a cop-out. An escape hatch. As a way of achieving corporate growth, it's even easier than taking over your competitors. And it sure beats the hard graft of trying to increase profits by being more efficient and contributing to national productivity improvement.

As we've seen, high immigration probably comes at the expense of productivity-enhancing (capital-deepening) business investment and public infrastructure. To the extent that inadequate capital-widening leads to overcrowding and congestion, it worsens productivity.

In principle, one productivity-enhancing effect of high immigration is that you get greater human capital on the cheap by pinching it from other (mainly poor) countries.

After foreign students have come here and paid full freight for Australian qualifications, you let them stay and work. You select permanent immigrants on the basis of their skills, or you let skilled workers on temporary visas stay on.

But as Dr Bob Birrell, of the Australian Population Research Institute, has shown, there's a big gap between the claims made for our skilled migration program and the reality. We let in people whose skills aren't in high demand, and plenty of them end up driving taxis because the local professions' gatekeepers refuse to recognise their qualifications.

So it's not clear the benefits of our skill-pinching program exceed the cost of discouraging businesses from incurring bother and cost training enough of our own young people, when you can always get the government to let you bring in someone ready-trained.

High immigration may suit our rent-seeking business people, but it's a hell of a way to pursue the professed benefits of economic growth.

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Cities: jobs in the centre, most people on the outer

It's remarkable how few new ideas most economists get. They look at the world the way they always have and worry about the same things they've always worried about, chasing the same rabbits down the same burrows.

They analyse the world using their standard model and see those things the model is designed to highlight, but don't see anything that's outside its scope.

What most economists rarely think about is the spatial dimension of the economy. It's ignored by their model, so it's ignored by them. Could it have something to tell us about why the economy isn't functioning as well as it could? Who knows?

Jane-Frances Kelly and Paul Donegan, that's who. They've been studying the economics of our cities for the Grattan Institute, and their eye-opening findings are explained in their new book, City Limits: Why Australia's cities are broken and how we can fix them. Here's my version of their message.

Despite our self-image as sun-bronzed sons and daughters of the soil, we are a nation of city-dwellers. Australia is one of the most urbanised countries in the world.

Our capital cities are growing and most of our income is being generated in them, notwithstanding the big expansion in mining, which is more about additional structures and capital equipment than workers.

For at least the past 40 years, all the net increase in employment has been in the services sector, and the services sector exists mainly in cities. The arrival of the knowledge economy will only heighten this trend.

Most of the economic action in our capitals is occurring near the centre of the city. Just the Sydney and Melbourne central business districts – occupying a combined area of a mere 10 square kilometres - account for about a quarter of each city's production.

Businesses crowd into the CBD because it gives them the easiest access to desirable employees and because they benefit from being close to the other firms in their industry and their suppliers. It facilitates the transfer of knowledge. Get it? They think that crowding together increases their productivity.

The biggest trend in city property prices is not just big rises over time, but the way inner-city prices are rising so much faster than outer-city prices as people seek "proximity" – closeness to the centre, with all its facilities and jobs.

Researchers at the Reserve Bank have shown that if you draw a graph with home prices on the vertical axis and distance from the CBD on the horizontal axis and then plot actual prices, you get an almost perfectly downward-sloping curve for Sydney, Melbourne, Perth or Brisbane. On average, prices are highest close in and lowest far out.

For the five mainland state capitals, 60 per cent of all the employment growth over the five years to 2011 occurred within 10 kilometres of the centre. But here's the problem: no doubt because inner-city house prices were so high, about 55 per cent of the population growth occurred 20 kilometres or more from the centre.

In other words, we've been developing a big economic and social problem few economists have noticed: a growing spatial divide between where the jobs are and where people live.

It's an economic problem because it increases the economy-wide costs of each day's production of goods and services. It's a social problem because, for the most part, those costs fall on the less-wealthy working families living in outer suburbs. Some of the costs come as dollars paid, some as time wasted and some as opportunities forgone.

The growing distance between where we live and where we work means car travel in peak periods is getting slower in all capital cities. Traffic is slowest on inner-suburban roads, because that's where most people are travelling to or from.

Over the past decade, the proportion of people spending more than 10 hours a week commuting has increased by about half. One in four full-time employees spends more time commuting than with their children.

Women caring for children in outer suburbs face tough choices, with a lack of accessible jobs forcing some out of the workforce altogether.

So what can we do about it? We need to reduce congestion and make it easier, quicker and cheaper to move across the city. To me that means improving access to public transport – which is excellent in the inner-city and woeful in the outer suburbs – not returning to our earlier delusion that building more expressways will fix it.

One day we'll have the courage to use time-of-use tolling to encourage those who have the flexibility to avoid travelling in peak periods to stop doing so.

But improving public transport is expensive and can be only part of the solution. The authors stress the need to increase the supply of semi-detached homes – terraces, townhouses and low-rise blocks of flats – in inner and middle suburbs.

This would require changes to complex planning and zoning regulations – and a lot of public consultation if the changes are to stick. But if so many people want to live closer in, we need to accommodate their wishes.

With the release of another intergenerational report this week, we'll be hearing much agonising by politicians and economists about why our productive efficiency isn't improving fast enough. But don't hold your breath waiting for them to acknowledge that a fair part of their problem is spatial.

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Why house prices will stay high

Why are house prices so extraordinarily high? Short answer: because Australians have an unusual relationship with their homes. The reasons for that strange relationship aren't new, but until now they haven't been well understood. And among foreigners they still aren't.

House prices in cities such as Sydney and Melbourne don't just seem high to you and me, they're high by international standards. According to the International Monetary Fund, Australia has the third highest house prices, relative to the level of people's incomes, among 24 advanced economies.

Our house prices are so high that just about every foreign economist who looks at them becomes convinced we're sitting on a bubble that could burst at any moment. But few Australian economists agree with them.

Though there's no guarantee prices will keep shooting up the way they have been lately and nothing to stop them falling back a bit - there's plenty of precedent for periods of either stable or falling house prices in our recent history - most local economists see little prospect of an American-style collapse in prices.

But what is it that's holding our prices so high? For the full explanation of Australian exceptionalism I'm relying on a typically thorough report by one of our top business economists, Saul Eslake, of Bank of America Merrill Lynch.

Much of the explanation comes from the insights of economic geography, the study of how we're affected by the spatial dimension of the economy and, in particular, of the way big cities work.

Eslake says foreigners tend to think of Australia as a country of wide-open spaces - "a land of sweeping plains" - where people live with kangaroos grazing peacefully on their front lawns. In truth, most of us live on the edge of the continent, crammed into a few very big cities, making us one of the most urbanised countries on the planet.

Almost 60 per cent of Australians live in cities with populations of more than one million, a proportion exceeded only by Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore. Of our six state capitals, all but Hobart fit that description.

Urban geography research suggests real estate prices are usually a lot higher in cities with populations of more than a million. So an unusually high proportion of Australians live in big cities where house prices are safe to be higher.

Second, compared with cities in other countries, Australian cities are large in terms of area, relative to the size of their populations. Trouble is, Eslake says, public transport and arterial roads in the outer suburbs of Australian cities are generally inadequate for the task of moving large numbers of people from those suburbs to the central business district.

But, because of this, many Australians choose to spend a higher proportion of their incomes on housing so as to spend a smaller proportion of their time commuting. In the process, we bid up the prices of houses and units closer in.

So houses prices are higher in Australia partly because commuting times are so long. The recent return of the delusion that building more expressways will reduce traffic congestion is unlikely to make things better.

Third, Australian house and apartment prices are higher because our homes tend to be bigger than those in other countries. Three-quarters of us live in detached houses, a much higher proportion than in most other rich countries. Our average size of a new house - 206 square metres - is a fraction higher than America's, with daylight third. And our housing is usually constructed using more expensive materials.

The international comparisons purporting to show how expensive our houses are never allow for differences in size and quality. If our housing is of higher quality than other people's, you'd expect it to cost more.

Eslake's fourth point is that, thanks partly to the resources boom and two decades without a severe recession, Australians are richer than we were, even relative to other high-income countries. Guess what? Better-off people tend to devote a higher proportion of their income to their housing.

We can afford to, so we do. Sounds pretty Australian to me.

Another part of the explanation is that, for more than a decade, we've been building too few houses and units to keep up with the growth in the population. Since the turn of the century we've had relatively fast growth averaging 1.4 per cent a year with 60 per cent of that coming from immigration.

During the 1990s we built 145,000 new dwellings a year, but though the annual increase in the population has doubled since then, our construction of new places has averaged just 150,000 a year. It was estimated that by June 2011 we'd built 284,000 fewer homes than needed to maintain housing patterns the way they were.

Supply isn't keeping up because of excessive restrictions and charges by state and local authorities. So this is putting some upward pressure on house prices. But it's just the opposite of what happened in most of the countries where prices tanked.

Finally, Eslake argues that a further part of the reason our house prices are so high is our unusual tax incentive encouraging people to invest in residential housing. It wouldn't be so bad if it added as much to the supply of homes as it adds to the demand for them but, in fact, 94 per cent of "negatively geared" investors buy established dwellings, not new ones.

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How the econocrats can lift their game

When we judge the performance of chief executives, most of us know the boss who's good at cutting costs isn't worth as much as the boss who's also able to improve the outfit's products and processes. Well, the same goes for treasurers and finance ministers - and their econocrats.

It seems the fiscal managers are running low on good ideas. But not to worry - the former Treasury and prime ministerial adviser Dr Ric Simes, now of Deloitte Access Economics, had some useful advice to offer in a speech to the Australian Business Economists last week.

Simes argues governments themselves have an important role to play in achieving the improved productivity performance the econocrats keep saying we need. Especially when "productivity" is better thought of as "technological progress" and the figures for measured productivity aren't as important as actual improvements in welfare.

"For those parts of the economy where market forces are paramount, government's main role is to make sure that regulation or its own actions allow competition to unfold without unwarranted intervention," Simes says.

To me, this means econocrats should urge their masters to tread carefully when powerful business interests, fighting to shore up a technologically superseded business model, demand that governments make breaches of government-granted copyright a hanging offence.

As Simes says, digital technologies have lower entry barriers and are forcing businesses to be both more productive and more responsive to consumers. So don't help incumbents resist change.

But, he says, the potential for technology to make some of the largest improvements in Australian lives lies in government-heavy sectors including health, education and transport. In these areas, progress has been too gradual.

"The exemplar is probably electronic health records, which have been the focus of considerable effort for perhaps 15 years now, but where we still seem to be a long way off the goal of having them routinely used throughout the health system.

"Or, take even an example where we have done well, the SCATS - Sydney Co-ordinated Adaptive Traffic System - for control of traffic lights. SCATS was originally developed 40 years ago, it has been constantly refined since then and is now in use in 27 countries.

"So, a success story - yet, as a Sydney driver, I know my welfare would be improved with a more refined SCATS system. It's coming - NICTA [the National Information Communications Technology Research Centre of Excellence] and others are working on optical-based monitoring and improved optimisation algorithms - but more support for both the research and especially its deployment would lift my welfare!"

Simes notes that in both cases, electronic health records and SCATS, the strict efficiency improvements from the technology - the bit that would help government budgets - represent a relatively small part of the overall benefits to the community.

"Especially in health and education, many of the benefits will involve improvements in the quality and range of services rather than efficiency gains," he says.

"Making the most effective use of digital technologies in health and education - as well as other areas where government has a direct role, such as smart technologies in transport and utilities - will deliver much larger economic and social benefits than where we seem to like to focus much of our policy attention, such as whether we should get the budget back into balance by 2017 or 2019."

Another potentially major area of micro-economic reform, Simes says, is how we organise our cities. Up to 80 per cent of Australia's output and employment occurs within its major cities. This has happened in the pursuit of economies of agglomeration.

"Yet we know that the problems are mounting. Congestion, compromised open spaces, the loss of amenity all risk detracting more and more from those benefits."

As with digital, many of the benefits from fixing these problems would not show up in our standard measures of welfare derived from the national accounts.

"Ten minutes less travelling time to work, or to school, doesn't have direct effects on gross domestic product. A more vibrant space around the harbour, or convenient shopping centre in the 'burbs, doesn't get picked up. But social welfare is clearly affected," he says.

Taking Sydney as an example, if commuter travel times on its roads were reduced by five minutes per trip, the benefits would amount to $3.6 billion a year, if an individual's time is valued at average weekly earnings.

To this you could add savings for freight or commercial vehicles. And savings for going to the shops, or school, or to the beach.

Echoing the patron saint of treasurers, Simes wants to lift our gaze to "the big picture".

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Why almost all of us are 'out of touch'

When politicians say things such as that the poor don't buy petrol, it's easy to accuse them of being "out of touch". Actually, all politicians face that accusation before they're through. It's one of our favourite things to say about pollies we disapprove of.

But let's turn it around: exactly how in touch are you and I? Much less than we imagine.

We know a lot about our own circumstances and those of our friends and neighbours, but are surprisingly deficient in our understanding of people outside our circle.

And one of our greatest deficiencies is our inability to see ourselves as others see us, to place ourselves on the spectrum. Take the question of income.

In 1999, researchers at the University of NSW conducted a survey asking people to nominate their family's gross income and then to say where they believed that income placed them in the distribution of all families' income.

The results showed that more than 93 per cent of respondents believed their income to be in the middle 60 per cent of the distribution.

Most of us like to imagine we're middle-income earners. Ask us where we fit and almost no one admits to being either rich or poor (unless they're accused of not using much petrol).

A survey conducted this year for the Australia Institute, found a similar result but put it a different way: nearly all Australians think the average income is the same as their own income.

Of those respondents reporting their own annual household income to be between $20,000 and $40,000, 58 per cent believed the average income of all households lay within that range.

For those on $40,000 to $60,000, 71 per cent thought this was average. For $60,000 to $80,000 it was 61 per cent, for $80,000 to $100,000 it was 55 per cent, and for $100,000 to $150,000 it was 51 per cent.

Even for those on more than $150,000 a year, a third of them thought that was average. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the average household income in Australia is $80,700.

But how could so many of us be so out of touch? How could we be so unaware of how the other half lives and which half we fit into?

I'm sure there are various reasons, but one of the big ones is something that's been going on for years without most of us noticing. Our cities are becoming more socially stratified, with the better-off congregating down one end and the less well-off down the other.

These days, you're less and less likely to find suburbs with a cross-section of high and low income-earners, or highly and lowly educated people.

So we don't know how the other half lives because they are in the other half - the half we live far away from and rarely visit or even drive past. Pretty much all our family, friends and workmates are in the same half we're in.

A study conducted last year by Jane-Frances Kelly and Peter Mares, of the Grattan Institute, Productive Cities, looked at maps of who lives where in Australia's largest cities and tracked how this had changed in the 20 years between 1991 and 2011.

The authors found that the residents of our four biggest cities have enjoyed rising incomes and have become much better qualified. At the same time, however, our cities had become more polarised.

"Increasingly, high-income residents with university-level qualifications cluster in suburbs close to city centres, while residents on lower incomes, and residents with vocational [trade certificate and diploma] qualifications, are more likely to live around the city fringes," they say.

"In each city, it is also possible to identify particular areas of disadvantage, where a high proportion of residents have no formal qualifications beyond secondary school, where labour market participation is low and where a high proportion of young people are 'disconnected' - that is, neither working nor engaged in education or training."

In Sydney and Melbourne, individuals on higher incomes are clustered in inner suburbs and suburbs with desirable natural attributes such as beaches, trees and hills.

In Sydney, the highest median incomes are found in inner, northern and harbourside and beachside suburbs, while the lowest median incomes are concentrated in western and south-western suburbs more distant from the CBD.

In Melbourne, the highest median incomes are found in inner, eastern and bayside suburbs, while the lowest median incomes are concentrated in more distant western, northern and south-eastern suburbs.

A map also shows a clear pattern in house prices. "The premium placed on proximity to the city centre is evident in steep house-price gradients in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and Perth," they say.

Research by the Reserve Bank shows that, if you rank house prices for any of those cities according to their distance from the central business district, you get an almost perfect curve that (using figures from 2010) starts well above $1 million in Melbourne and Sydney and then declines steadily to about $300,000 when you're more than 60 kilometres from the centre.

This relationship between proximity and house prices has strengthened in recent decades, with average annual growth in house prices about 2 per cent higher in inner suburbs within five kilometres of the centre than on city fringes.

Those people out in the boondocks have no idea how much we struggle with our mortgages - and we have no idea that they have problems too. Price of petrol, for starters.

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Economists should learn some geography

One of the great failings of economists is their confident assumption that their way of looking at the economy is the only way - certainly, the only useful way - of understanding it.

For one thing, their almost exclusive focus on money - prices, actually - and their convenient assumption that people are rational, allows them to analyse an economy populated by automatons rather than fallible, flighty humans.

Behavioural economics and economic sociology attempt to correct this deficiency.

But there's another way of studying the economy that most economists take little interest in, to the detriment of their understanding of how the economy ticks: its spatial dimension. This failure is getting more costly as we move to a knowledge economy.

Why isn't economic activity spread pretty much evenly across our vast continent? Why is almost all of it concentrated around our coastline?

For most of our states, up to three-quarters of their economic activity is concentrated in their capital city, which is also the state's first site of white settlement. This is partly an accident of history. Newcomers tend to settle where other people are already settled.

But economic geographers have long known there's also a lot of economic logic to where people settle. Farmers tend to settle where the most arable land is. Mines have to be built where the minerals are.

Manufacturers have to decide whether to build their factories close to where their raw materials are or close to where their customers are. They usually decide to set up in cities, often on the outskirts of cities where land is cheaper.

What's more, many of the firms in a particular industry will gravitate to the same city, usually a big one. Why? So as to exploit "economies of agglomeration".

You've heard of economies of scale. Economies arise when similar firms agglomerate (cluster together). Workers with skills relevant to that industry are attracted to that city, meaning firms have less trouble getting the skilled workers they need. Workers who lose their jobs at one firm may not need to move house to get another job at a similar firm.

Likewise, the manufacturers and their suppliers of specialist equipment and materials each benefit by being close to each other. Firms in the same business can keep an eye on each other, copying anyone who gets on to a better way of doing things. That way, the whole industry gets more efficient at a faster rate.

All this has long been understood by economic geographers. But the advent of the knowledge economy has given agglomeration economies a major new twist and added to the economic significance of big cities, as the report, Mapping Australia's Economy: cities as engines of prosperity, by Jane-Frances Kelly and Paul Donegan, of the Grattan Institute, has pointed out.

"Today the Australian economy is no longer driven by what we make - the extraction and production of physical goods - but rather by what we know and do. Like other advanced economies around the world, our economy is continuing to become more knowledge-intensive, more specialised and more globally connected," the report says.

"Knowledge-intensive businesses - which are the most productive today - tend to cluster and thrive in the centres of large cities."

It turns out economic activity in Australia is concentrated in and around large cities, but is not distributed evenly within cities. Central business districts and inner-city areas are especially important: they represent substantial concentrations of employment, but even more intense concentrations of economic activity. In other words, CBD workers have a lot higher productivity than other workers.

The report explains that "the more highly skilled and specialised a job, the greater the need to find the best person to fill it. This is especially important when the work involves knowledge, expertise, judgment and learning".

Being close to suppliers, customers and rivals helps businesses generate new business opportunities and ideas for products and services, and better ways of working. These transfers of expertise, new ideas and process improvements that occur through interactions between businesses are called "knowledge spillovers" (a class of "positive externality").

Within cities, CBDs and inner-city areas offer the most opportunities for face-to-face contact among workers, essential to benefiting from knowledge spillovers. Spillovers often involve combining and recombining knowledge to come up with new products and ways of working.

Workers build on each other's thoughts, jointly solve problems and break through impasses. Trust is essential, and these kinds of complex conversations are best had in person.

"High-speed broadband and other advances in communication technologies will never replace the importance of face-to-face contact," we're told.

Grattan's research finds that residential patterns and transport systems mean CBD employers have access to only a limited proportion of workers in metropolitan areas. Turning that around, many workers, particularly in outer suburbs, have access to only a small proportion of jobs across the city.

For instance, in some outer suburban growth areas of Melbourne, just 10 per cent of the city's jobs can be reached within a 45-minute drive. If work journeys are made by public transport it's worse.

The report warns that, unless governments lift their game, "Australian cities are likely to continue to spread outwards, further increasing the distance between where many people live and the most productive parts of large cities". This would harm productivity - and workers' opportunity to get ahead.

The point is, governments need to understand the economy's spatial dimension and respond by ensuring transport networks better connect employees with employers, and businesses with their customers and suppliers. Continue letting congestion worsen and you cause productivity to be lower than otherwise, not to mention adding misery to people's lives.

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Big cities have become the engine of the economy

Old notions die hard. If you took all the production of goods and services in Australia and plotted on a map where that production took place, what would it look like?

Any farmer could tell you most of the value is created in the bush. A miner, however, would tell you - a bunch of ads have told you - these days most of the wealth is generated in areas such as the Pilbara in Western Australia and the Bowen Basin in Queensland.

Then, of course, there are the great manufacturing states of Victoria and South Australia - with most work done in the suburbs of Melbourne and Adelaide, but also regional cities such as Geelong.

That make any sense to you? It's completely off beam.

A report issued this week by the Grattan Institute finds that, these days, 80 per cent of the dollar value of all goods and services in Australia is produced on just 0.2 per cent of the nation's land mass. Just about all of that is in our big cities, as close in as possible.

The report, by Jane-Frances Kelly and Paul Donegan, finds that big cities are now the engines of our prosperity. If you take just the central business districts of Sydney and Melbourne - covering a mere 7.1 square kilometres - you have accounted for almost 10 per of Australia's gross domestic product.

What do workers do in all those city offices? Nothing you can touch. That's how much the economy's changed.

To find the economy as many people still imagine it to be, you have to go back 50, even 100 years. About 100 years ago, almost half Australia's population of 4 million lived on rural properties or in small towns of fewer than 3000 people.

Many of these would have been market towns serving the agricultural economy. Agriculture and mining accounted for a third of the workforce. And only about one in three Australians lived in a city of at least 100,000 people.

These days, agriculture employs only 3 per cent of workers and contributes only 2 per cent of GDP. Our two biggest CBDs contribute at least four times that much.

By the end of World War II, manufacturing had become Australia's dominant industry. At its height in 1960, the report reminds us, manufacturing employed more than a quarter of the workforce and accounted for almost 30 per cent of GDP.

The rise of manufacturing shifted much of our economic activity - our prosperity - to the big cities, but mainly to the suburbs. Suburbs away from city centres had lower rents and less congestion.

Postwar growth in car ownership made possible the shift to a manufacturing economy with a strong suburban presence. It also led to the demise of many small towns and the rise of regional centres.

Today, however, manufacturing employs only 9 per cent of the workforce and accounts for just 7 per cent of GDP. The thing to note is that this seeming decline in manufacturing has involved only a small and quite recent fall in the quantity of things we manufacture in Oz.

Similarly, the decline in agriculture's share of employment and GDP has occurred even though the quantity of rural production is higher than ever. The trick is that these industries didn't contract so much as other parts of the economy grew a lot faster, shrinking their share of the total.

One of those other parts is mining, of course. But get this: "While Australia's natural resource deposits are typically in remote areas, workers in cities make a critical contribution to the industry's success," the report says.

"For instance, in Western Australia, where the most productive mining regions are located, more than one third of people employed in mining work in Perth."

That's partly because of fly-in fly-out, but mainly because many of these workers are highly skilled engineers, scientists, production managers, accountants and administrators.

So what explains the greater and still-growing economic significance of big cities, so that Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane and Perth now contribute 61 per cent of GDP? The rise of the knowledge economy.

Increasingly, our prosperity rests not on growing, digging up or making things, but on knowing things. Our workforce is more highly educated than ever, and this is the result.

"Knowledge-intensive jobs are vital to the modern economy. They drive innovation and productivity, and are a critical source of employment growth. In the last 15 years there has been much higher growth in high-skilled, compared to low-skilled, employment," the report says.

Knowledge-intensive activities aren't confined to jobs in the services sector, but are also increasing in mining and manufacturing. They often involve coming up with new ideas, solving complex problems or finding better ways of doing things.

But here's the trick: it suits many of the knowledge workers, and the businesses that employ them, for those workers to be crowded into big cities, as close in as possible. When you're all packed in together, there's more scope for the transfers of expertise, new ideas and process improvements known as "knowledge spillovers".

Such spillovers come particularly through face-to-face contact. Large cities offer employers knowledge spillovers and a large skilled workforce. They also offer people greater opportunities to get a job, move to a better job, build skills and bounce back if they lose their job.

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The economic geography of big cities

If you've seen those ads the mining industry is running you probably realise the entire economy is riding on the miners' backs, and if asked to pay another dollar more in tax they'll up sticks and shift their mines to some better-run country like Peru or Nigeria.

If you've spoken to a farmer any time in the past 50 years you'll know it's actually farming that's propping the economy.

In either case you'll be surprised to know the truth: according to estimates by the Department of Infrastructure and Transport, 80 per cent of Australia's economic activity takes place in Australia's major cities.

That's because the great majority of us live in big cities. We live there because that's where most of the jobs are. Equally, most of the jobs are where the people live because most jobs involve doing things for people (such as bringing them the news).

But it's not by accident that so many of us happen to be piled into a handful of cities (as are people in all developed countries and, increasingly, many developing countries). We pile together because it's more efficient economically, thus making us more prosperous.

For one thing, it saves on transport and other distribution costs. For another, outfits such as hospitals and schools - even shopping centres - gain economies of scale when they have more people to serve.

But that's just the start of the "economies of agglomeration", as Jane-Frances Kelly and Peter Mares point out in their report for the Grattan Institute, Productive Cities.

We're used to dividing up the economy by sector - agriculture, mining, manufacturing and the big one, services - and focusing on how these sectors' shares of the economy are changing. But this blinds us to an important development.

"One of the most significant long-term shifts in advanced economies is towards knowledge-intensive activities. These take place across all sectors of the economy," the authors say. In other words, there are knowledge-intensive jobs in each of the sectors - but almost all of them are located in the cities.

Knowledge-intensive activities tend to involve customised problem solving, which requires significant intellectual effort. So such workers solve problems and generate ideas. Their jobs are clean, safe, well-paid and intellectually satisfying. They're the way for Australia to go if we want a better future than just farming and mining (lucrative though they are).

But here's the point: knowledge-intensive activities grow best in big cities. This is because people and businesses learn from each other, and the closer together they are the more they learn. According to the urban economist Edward Glaeser, the "central paradox of the modern metropolis" is that even as the cost of connecting across distance falls, so the value of being close to other businesses rises.

As well, the more businesses and workers cluster together, the more they each benefit from "deep" labour markets. Firms have more workers to pick from; workers have more firms to pick from. Jobs can become more specialised, and ever-increasing specialisation is one of the main ways economies have become richer over the past 200 years.

When you specialise in something you get better at it. And the individual worker more closely fits the needs of the individual employer (which makes the worker more valuable and able to command a higher salary). But the more specialised you are the more contact you need with others in your specialty to help you keep up.

The report says that, adapting to changing economic circumstances, Australia's largest cities have evolved from compact colonial cities where jobs and houses were close together and most people walked to work, to cities that spread outwards into suburbs.

"This transition was made easier by changing transport technologies: first trams and trains, then buses and cars. The transition further separated the worlds of work and home, an arrangement that was well suited to a 20th-century economy driven largely by manufacturing, when industry could often be a dirty and noisy neighbour."

Initially this led to the "hollowing out" of inner cities as both residents and jobs moved to the suburbs. In the decades since 1980, however, the trend began to turn around, as services began to replace manufacturing as the main source of new jobs.

Combined with factors such as traffic congestion and rising fuel prices, this helped to prompt a resurgence of CBDs and inner suburbs as places to live and work.

The point here is that the economic efficiency of cities - their ability to generate well-paying jobs - turns on where the jobs are, where the homes are and the adequacy of the transport system that allows us to move between the two.

But the report finds that labour markets are shallow in significant parts of Australia's biggest cities. "In many suburbs - particularly outer suburbs - residents can reach fewer than 10 per cent of all metropolitan jobs with a reasonable commuting time," it says.

The answer is not for governments to try (and often fail) to create jobs in outer suburban areas. People want to live closer in, and many of them want units rather than houses. So the answer is to remove the disincentives faced by developers building in established suburbs and stop established suburbs from being "locked down" by restrictive zoning and planning rules.

The way to reduce traffic congestion and increase the capacity of city transport systems is to start charging for the use of roads and use the revenue to expand public transport.

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Why most of us live in big cities

We live in the age of the city. A year or two ago we passed the point where half the world's population was now living in urban areas. This is because the rapid economic development of many large but poor countries is as much about urbanisation as industrialisation. Now experts are predicting the proportion of us living in cities will rise to 70 per cent within the next 40 years.

This isn't happening by accident. People migrate from the country to the city in the confident belief - invariably more right than wrong - this will raise their standard of living.

Putting it another way, there are huge economic advantages if most of us live in big cities, packed together like sardines. Economists call these the "economies of agglomeration".

When businesses are located close to their customers, suppliers and potential employees, they can produce their goods and services at less cost. When a number of businesses in the same industry are located in the same city there are further savings.

That's the economists' conventional explanation of why we pile into cities.

More recently, Professor Edward Glaeser, of Harvard, has argued that cities - and the face-to-face contact they make possible - are the ideal bed for germinating and propagating the ideas that drive the information economy.

So, much of the rich world's affluence is owed to our penchant for crowding together. And when politicians and economists turn their mind to cities their concern is usually to ensure the economic benefits keep rolling in.

But what about the social, psychological side? Do we pay a high social or mental price for so much unnatural crowding? As a general proposition, I'm not sure we do. Most city slickers enjoy living in cities, surrounded by so many people and so much choice.

Even so, we're engaged in a tricky balancing act, enjoying the benefits of having so many around us while retaining some personal space and privacy. In the country everyone looks after each other - or so we like to think - but in the city we tend to mind our own business.

When we get this balance wrong, city living becomes more impersonal and less satisfying than it should be. In the extreme case, there can be so much keeping-yourself-to-yourself that individuals feel lonely and isolated in the midst of the crowd.

Do economists ever worry about this sort of thing? No, not their department. Do politicians? Since they're so preoccupied with matters economic, probably not as much as they should.

These issues are explored in a new report from the Grattan Institute, Social Cities, by Jane-Frances Kelly and others. Let me summarise its findings.

It finds that social connection - our relationships with others - is critical to our wellbeing. Humans are social animals. We evolved in an environment where group membership was essential to survival, so now it's built into our brains.

We form connections at three levels: intimate personal and family relationships, links with a broader network of friends, relatives and colleagues, and collective connection - our feeling of belonging in our communities.

Social connection is important to our health as well as our happiness. Loneliness can be as bad for our health as high blood pressure, lack of exercise, obesity or smoking. Australian research shows that older people with stronger networks of friends live longer.

"The importance of social connection to health and wellbeing means that, for many people, improved relationships are a much more realistic path to a better life than increased income," the report says.

The few internationally comparable statistics relating to social connection suggest Australia is doing well. On the proportion of people who have relatives or friends they can count on in a time of need, we rank sixth out of 41 mainly developed countries. On the proportion of people who feel most other people can be trusted, we rank fifth.

Even so, our degree of social connection is declining. Our average number of friends has fallen in the past 20 years, as has the number of local people we can ask for small favours. And social connection is unevenly distributed. People on lower incomes and people with disabilities have lower trust in others.

One-person households account for a quarter of all households and are the fastest-growing type. You're not lonely just because you live alone, but the risk of it is a lot higher. Being a single parent is a risk factor, as is having limited English.

The report stresses it doesn't believe in physical determinism - that design is destiny. Even so, "the shape of our cities can make it easier, or harder, for people to interact'.

"Where we live, work and meet, and how we travel between these places, has a big impact on how much time we have to connect, and who we can meet face-to-face," it says.

Social connection is becoming more widely recognised as an important goal in the design of streets and the architecture of buildings. But when major decisions about transport infrastructure and land use are made, social connection is rarely given the same priority as the movement of people and goods for employment and commerce.

Inefficient urban transport networks see much of our day swallowed up by commuting, leaving us less time for friends and family. It's simpler for people to get together to play sport if training grounds are available nearby, and it's easier to organise a picnic if you can walk to a local park.

"If our cities are to absorb larger populations and improve quality of life for all, they will need to meet our social as well as our material needs," the report concludes.

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