Will Trump be disastrous for our economy? I doubt it

When, in its wisdom, the American electorate does something really stupid, it’s tempting to predict death and disaster for the whole world, including us.

But though the Yanks are embarking on a bout of serious self-harm – and this will have costs for the rest of the world economy – let’s not kid ourselves that we’ll be prominent in the firing line.

Leaving aside Donald Trump’s climate change denial – a topic I’ll get to another day – his most damaging stated economic policy is to make America great again by imposing a tariff (import duty) of 10 to 20 per cent on all America’s imports except imports from China, which will cop 60 per cent.

This is rampant populism – it sounds like a great idea to those who understand nothing about how economies work but it will make the US economy worse rather than better. Trump claimed this new tax would be paid by the foreign suppliers but, in reality, it will be paid by those American consumers and businesses that continue to buy imported items.

So the man who got elected because the punters hate inflation will be acting to worsen inflation. This isn’t likely to do much to increase the demand for locally made manufactures but, to the extent that it does, automation and digitisation will mean it does little to create more jobs in manufacturing.

Another reason protectionism doesn’t work is that America’s major trading partners – particularly China and Europe – are likely to retaliate by imposing tariffs on their imports from America. We know from history that trade wars end up leaving both sides worse off.

So the United States will suffer most, although all countries that trade with it will suffer to some extent. But get this: the US is not one of our major trading partners. It takes only about 5 per cent of our exports. Our big partners are China, Japan and South Korea.

Like many ignorant Americans, Trump believes any country that runs a bilateral trade surplus with the US must be doing so because they’re cheating in some way. Not a problem for us: we import more from the Yanks than we export to them. It’s China and the Europeans Trump will be going after, not us.

To the extent that Trump hurts the Chinese economy – as part of the Americans’ bipartisan obsession with trying to prevent China usurping their place as the world’s top dog – that will have an adverse flow-on to us.

But the Chinese have their own ways of fighting back. In any case, the greatest risk to our economy is not from what the Yanks do to the Chinese but from what the Chinese stuff up on their own account.

While it’s clear Trump is well placed politically to press on with implementing the crazy policies he has promised, that doesn’t mean he’ll do everything he’s said he’ll do to the full extent that he’s said. For instance, why would he tax all imports of goods and services when it’s manufactures he’s really on about? Also, not everything he tries to do will be done in next to no time.

We know the man. He’s nothing if not capricious. Dead keen one minute, moved on the next. And as someone who sees himself as the great dealmaker, he’s highly transactional. A 20 per cent tariff may be just the list price before the bargaining starts. ANZ Bank economists say the average tariff on Chinese goods will go from 13 per cent to 22 per cent, not 60 per cent.

The truth is that we’re too small to figure largely in Trump’s thinking. And why kick the US lapdog we’ve made ourselves?

Trump has made much of his promise to deport the many millions of undocumented immigrants. Most of these people are doing jobs Americans don’t want to do. Getting rid of them would reduce the size of the economy while increasing inflation as employers offer higher wages to attract other people to unattractive jobs.

But not to worry. It’s hard to see just how he’d round up all these people without calling out the military. It’s much easier to see him limiting himself to trying harder to stop more people crossing the Mexican border. In this case, the reduction in the economy and the rise in costs would be smaller.

So far, his policies on tariffs and immigration seem likely to increase America’s rate of inflation while reducing its economic activity. Great idea. But then we come to his promises for big tax cuts.

He says he wants to cut the rate of company tax and “extend” his 2017 personal income tax cuts, which greatly favoured the high-income earners more likely to have been too smart to have voted for him.

In principle, you’d expect tax cuts to be expansionary and thus possibly inflationary. But note this: according to a strange American custom, the personal tax cuts enacted in 2017 are due to expire at the end of next year.

So extending them means not that everyone gets a tax cut, but everyone avoids a tax increase. The troops’ after-tax income is unchanged. But, of course, the budget deficit is now worse than previously projected.

One thing we can be sure of is that Trump’s not a man to worry about deficits and debt. Republican congresspeople do have a history of worrying about such matters – but only when those irresponsible Democrats are in charge.

The Yanks do have many of the smartest academic economists in the world and, as the US government’s annual interest payments get to be bigger than its spending on defence, they’re starting to wonder how long America’s fiscal insouciance can continue before something goes wrong. But the reckoning is unlikely to come in the next four years.

All told, it does seem that Trump’s policies will cause America’s inflation and interest rates to be higher than they would have been had Kamala Harris won the presidency. But what doesn’t follow is that this will have much effect on our inflation and interest rates, and on our Reserve Bank’s decision about when to start cutting rates to prevent us having an accidental recession.

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How we measure recessions is wrong. There's a better way to do it

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Of all the scary words in economics, recession is probably among the worst. Not just because of the bad times we link it with, but because of the way it’s measured.

What if I told you the way we measure recession is wrong? Or at least that we need to give it a rethink?

The widely used rule for a recession is “two consecutive quarters of negative economic growth”. That means two sets of back-to-back periods (of three months each) where gross domestic product – or GDP: the amount of goods and services that we’re producing and selling – shrinks.

Under that definition, Australia has been in a recession only once since 1991, and that was shortly after the pandemic and its lockdowns hit.

The idea is this: if we’re making and buying less, that must mean we’re having a hard time. And if it happens for six months, that must mean we’re becoming really worse off!

Here’s the thing, though. GDP is already a flawed measure at the best of times. Sure, it can give us an indication of how much we’re pumping out on the assembly line or purchasing at the checkout. But that doesn’t tell us anything about other measures of our wellbeing: environmental damage, our health or education outcomes.

It also doesn’t tell us how growth is shared: an expanding economy doesn’t mean everyone is getting better off. All or most of it could just be flowing to the already well-off.

Right now, as much as a lot of us feel worse off, we’re technically not in a recession. Looking purely at GDP, the Australian economy has managed to tread water.

In the September quarter (and the one before that, and the one before that), GDP grew by a tiny 0.2 per cent – but it was still above zero: close to a recession, but no cigar.

It helps if we split that figure up by population. When we consider the boom in our population over the past couple of years, we have, indeed, gone backwards. For the past year and a half, GDP growth per person has consistently fallen every quarter.

But to better measure and identify recessions, which we tend to see as a signal for economic pain, we should look to the labour market.

Why? Because that’s where most of the impact of a recession is felt: think about job losses and how hard it is to find a job when the economy is tanking, as well as the impact our jobs have on our lives.

Over the past year, our biggest banks have said our strong labour market has helped people muddle through the cost-of-living crisis. We can change our spending habits to keep up with mortgage repayments or work extra hours to keep up with our rent. It’s not fun, but it’s possible.

Lose your job, though, and life is much harder. It can put people under serious financial stress and damage their mental health.

Enter American economist Dr Claudia Sahm. The tool she developed – called the “Sahm rule” – helps to warn when an economy is entering a recession. It has missed the mark only twice in the past 11 US recessions.

The Sahm formula looks at monthly unemployment data to track how quickly the national unemployment rate has risen compared to the past year. Specifically, it compares the current three-month moving average of the national unemployment rate with the lowest value it has hit in the previous 12 months.

If the current rate is at least 0.5 percentage points higher than the lowest point in the previous year, it means we’re in the early stages of a recession. Measures such as the Sahm rule help us identify weaknesses in our economy and the risk of a recession early. That’s because jobs data is more frequently reported than GDP.

Sahm says changes in the labour market are crucial in understanding the state of the economy.

“If you were put on a desert island and could only have one variable to say what’s going on in the US economy, unemployment is the one you want,” she says. “It really says a lot about whether we’re in good times or bad.”

Sahm’s formula came about in 2019 while she was searching for a better way to fight the next recession. “I had just watched for a decade how hard the Great Recession was on families,” she says. “The goal was to have something people could understand that was very simple, easy to track and really accurate. Your best shot at fighting a recession is to move quickly.”

According to Sahm’s rule, Australia has been in the early stages of a recession for at least one month this year (although the Reserve Bank has argued the Sahm rule should be triggered at 0.75 per cent rather than 0.5 per cent).

When developing the rule, Sahm says she knew from the beginning that examining unemployment would be key. “I already knew, just from my work experience, even small increases in the unemployment rate are a bad sign,” she says.

Australia’s labour market has been remarkably resilient, with the most recent unemployment rate in September coming in at a historically low 4.1 per cent. But we’ve been in – or close to – the danger zone for the past few months.

Why does this matter? Getting on the front foot is important, especially for policymakers such as the government and central banks, to limit the fallout from an economic slowdown.

Independent economist Saul Eslake has long believed the common definition of a recession is flawed. He points to the two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth in Australia in 1977: “Nobody thinks that was a recession,” he says.

On the other hand, Australia didn’t see two consecutive quarters of negative GDP growth during either the global financial crisis or the tech wreck in the early 2000s. But Eslake says Australia arguably faced minor recessions during both those periods.

His own metric for a recession, like Sahm’s, focuses on the labour market. He says a recession should be when unemployment rises by more than 1.5 percentage points in 12 months.

“The biggest impact of a recession is on those who lose their jobs or take a long time to find them,” he says.

“There’s evidence that people who lose their jobs during a recession, or enter the workforce as school-leavers or university graduates during a recession, take longer than normal to find a job.”

This then has a “scarring” effect. Those who lose their jobs or have difficulty finding one tend to end up earning less over the rest of their working lives.

The better we are at identifying a recession, the better we can be at protecting jobs and longer-term livelihoods.

Of course, it may not be as simple as just monitoring the jobs market. In the US, for example, the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER) considers a range of measures beyond GDP – including personal income, employment, wholesale and retail sales – when deciding whether to declare a US recession.

And even Sahm says her rule has limitations, especially as we’ve seen big changes in the supply of labour across many countries.

“This particular economic cycle has challenged simplicity in a way that means these simple rules need some kind of extra check,” she says.

But whether we go with a measure that is simpler than the NBER gauge, more complex than the Sahm rule, or timelier than GDP, it’s clear the focus needs to be more on jobs.

If there’s one job our economic leaders have, it’s to keep us, as much as possible, in ours.

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Budget's message: maybe we'll pull off the softest of soft landings

When normal people think about the economy, most think about the trouble they’re having with the cost of living. But when economists think about it, what surprises them is how well the economy’s travelling.

It’s been going through huge ups and downs since COVID arrived in early 2020. By 2022, it was booming and the rate of unemployment had fallen to 3.5 per cent, its lowest in almost 50 years. Meaning we’d returned to full employment for the first time in five decades.

Trouble was, like the other rich economies, prices had begun shooting up. The annual rate of inflation reached a peak of almost 8 per cent by the end of 2022.

The managers of the economy know what to do when the economy’s growing too fast and inflation’s too high. The central bank increases interest rates to squeeze households’ cash flows and discourage them from spending so much.

The Reserve Bank started raising the official “cash” interest rate in May 2022, just before the federal election. It kept on raising rates and, by November last year, had increased the cash rate 13 times, taking it from 0.1 per cent to 4.35 per cent.

While this was happening, Treasurer Jim Chalmers was using his budget – known to economists as “fiscal policy” – to help the Reserve’s “monetary policy” to increase the squeeze on households’ own budgets, reducing their demand for goods and services.

Why? Because, when businesses’ sales are booming, they take the chance to whack up their prices. When their sales aren’t all that brisk, they’re much less keen to try it on.

The government’s tax collections have been growing strongly because many more people had jobs, or moved from part-time to full-time, and because higher inflation meant workers were getting bigger pay rises.

As well, iron ore prices stayed high, meaning our mining companies paid more tax than expected.

Chalmers tried hard to “bank” – avoid spending – all the extra revenue. So, whereas his budget ran a deficit of $32 billion in the year to June 2022, in the following year it switched to a surplus of $22 billion, and in the year that ends next month, 2023-24, he’s expecting another surplus, this time of $9 billion.

So, for the last two years, Chalmers’ budget has been taking more money out of the economy in taxes than it’s been putting back in government spending, thus making it harder for households to keep spending.

Guess what? It’s working. Total spending by consumers hardly increased over the year to December 2023. And the rate of inflation has fallen to 3.6 per cent in the year to March. That’s getting a lot closer to the Reserve’s target of 2 to 3 per cent.

The Reserve’s rate rises have been the biggest and fastest we’ve seen. Wages haven’t risen as fast as prices have and, largely by coincidence, a shortage of rental accommodation has allowed big increases in rents.

And on top of all that you’ve got the budget’s switch from deficits to surpluses. Much of this has been caused by bracket creep – wage rises causing workers to pay a higher average rate of income tax, often because they’ve been pushed into a higher tax bracket.

Bracket creep is usually portrayed as a bad thing, but economists call it “fiscal drag” and think of it as good. It acts as one of the budget’s main “automatic stabilisers”, helping to slow the economy down when it’s growing too quickly and causing higher inflation.

The Reserve keeps saying it wants to get inflation back under control without causing a recession. But put together all these factors squeezing household budgets, and you see why people like me have worried that we might end up with a hard landing.

Which brings us to this week’s budget. The big news is that in the coming financial year the budget is expected swing from this year’s surplus of $9 billion to a deficit of $28 billion.

This is a turnaround of more than $37 billion, equivalent to a big 1.3 per cent of annual gross domestic product. So, whereas for the past two financial years the “stance” of fiscal policy has been “contractionary” (acting to slow the economy), it will now be quite strongly “expansionary” (acting to speed it up).

Some people who should know better have taken this turnaround to have been caused by a massive increase in government spending. They’ve forgotten that by far the biggest cause is the stage 3 tax cuts, which will reduce tax collections by $23 billion a year.

The same people worry that this switch in policy will cause the economy to grow strongly, stop the inflation rate continuing to fall and maybe start it rising again. But I think they’ve forgotten how weak the economy is, how much downward pressure is still in the system, and how long it takes for a change in the stance of policy to turn the economy around.

Treasury’s forecasts say the economy (real GDP) will have grown by only 1.75 per cent in the financial year just ending, will speed up only a little in the coming year and not get back to average growth of about 2.5 per cent until 2026-27.

So, the rate of inflation will continue falling and should be back into the target range by this December. All this would mean that, from its low of 3.5 per cent – which had risen to 4.1 per cent by last month – the rate of unemployment is predicted to go no higher than 4.5 per cent.

That would be lower than the 5.2 per cent it was before the pandemic, and a world away from the peak of about 11 per cent in our last big recession, in the early 1990s.

So maybe, just maybe, we’ll have fixed inflation and achieved the softest of soft landings. Treasury’s forecasting record is far from perfect, to put it politely, but it is looking possible – provided we don’t do something stupid.

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Productivity isn't working, so why not try being more ethical?

Economists and business councils have been telling us for years that we must improve our productivity if we want to be more prosperous but, so far, they’ve had little success. Surely, there’s something else we could try?

As we’ll see, it’s something for Treasurer Jim Chalmers to ponder as he puts the finishing touches to next Tuesday’s budget.

Economists have many strengths, but they don’t win many prizes for thinking outside the box. Productivity is the obvious way to increase our prosperity but, despite all the admonition, for years it’s been hard to achieve, both here and in the other rich economies. It’s clear there’s a lot economists don’t know about how productivity is improved.

So, is there nothing else we could do to improve the way the economy works and the satisfaction it brings us? Of course there is – particularly when you remember this isn’t just about dollars and cents. Don’t you think life would be better if we could do all our earning and spending in an economy that generated less angst?

I’m indebted to Dr Simon Longstaff of the Ethics Centre for reminding me that behaving more ethically would be a good way to get better results from the economy.

Huh? How does that work? Let me tell you.

Ethics is a set of beliefs about the right way for people and organisations to behave, particularly in their relations with other people. Often, the right thing for us to do in particular circumstances is obvious.

It’s obvious, for example, that we should (almost) always obey the law. It’s just that obeying the law isn’t always convenient or inexpensive. And sometimes when our own interests are top of mind, it’s hard to see what’s obvious to everyone else.

In any case, because differing groups of people have differing beliefs and motives and objectives, ethical dilemmas – deciding what’s the right thing to do in all the circumstances – are common, particularly in business. That’s why we have a new profession of ethicists offering advice to organisations, of which Longstaff is the most prominent.

But what’s that got to do with the economy?

Well, let’s be clear. The only reason we should need to do the right thing is that it’s the right thing to do. And the only reward we should expect is being able to sleep well at night in the knowledge that we’re treating people justly, often at some cost to ourselves.

However, as Deloitte Access Economics has demonstrated in a report for the Ethics Centre, there is a strong “business case” for behaving ethically. A case that makes sense not just for individuals and businesses, but also for the treasurers and Treasuries responsible for improving the way the economy’s working.

The case rests on an obvious, but often forgotten truth: market economies rely on a high degree of trust. Trust between buyers and sellers. Trust that you’re not selling me a dud. Trust that your cheque won’t bounce.

Trust that you’ll let me return it if there’s a problem. Trust that you’ll honour your promise to service the thing for the next X years. Trust that you won’t pinch someone else’s bag from the airport carousel. Trust that you’ll repay the money I lent you.

Trust that if I let you check yourself out at my supermarket, you won’t slip in a few things you didn’t ring up. Trust that if I work for you, you’ll treat me fairly. Trust that the law will back me up if you do the wrong thing.

Point is, the more confident we are that we can trust each other – trust the businesses we deal with – the more smoothly and cheaply the economy runs and the more business gets done. When we have to spend a lot of money on security and making sure we’re not ripped off, the costs mount up, and we end up not doing all the transactions we could.

So, how do we get more trust into the economy? How do workers, employers and businesses get themselves a good reputation? By always behaving ethically. (I could say this also applies to politicians, but that would be pushing it.)

Research by Access Economics finds evidence that fewer unethical decisions lead to better mental and physical health for individuals. And evidence that unethical behaviour leads to poorer financial outcomes for business. And evidence that ethical behaviour results in higher wages.

But Access also reminds us of the evidence that our ethical standards could be a lot higher than they are. The World Values Survey finds that only a bit over half of Australians think most people can be trusted. The Governance Institute finds that, on a scale running from minus 100 to plus 100, Australia ranks at plus 45, or “somewhat ethical”.

Then there’s the string of royal commissions finding unethical or even illegal behaviour in institutional responses to child abuse, misconduct in the banking industry, and aged care. And that’s before we get to the epidemic of “wage theft” that so many otherwise respectable big businesses have had to admit to – all of it purely accidental, apparently.

OK, OK, we could do a lot better, with that producing tangible economic benefits. But how? Well, one approach would be for economists and econocrats to switch their sermonising from productivity to ethical behaviour.

Perhaps not. What would help is for ethical questions to get a lot more of our attention. As sociologists understand, but most economists don’t, businesses – like the rest of us – tend to want to do what others are doing. If we’re all being ethical, I don’t want to be seen as uninterested in ethical behaviour.

If we could give ethics a higher profile, we’d probably get more of it. If expert advice on ethical problems was more readily available, more would be asked for. If there were more training and meetings and conferences on the topic, more decisions would be examined for their ethical implications.

Longstaff’s Ethics Centre has a proposal to improve our “ethical infrastructure” by teaming up with the universities of Sydney and NSW to establish an Australian Institute of Applied Ethics, which would be open to receiving requests from governments and the private sector to report on major ethical questions facing the nation. It would be a bit like the Productivity Commission or the Australian Law Reform Commission, but it would not be a government body.

It would also contribute to education, training and leadership development, building the practical skills of good decision-making on ethical issues in the private and public sectors.

Copying the pattern used to establish the hugely successful Melbourne-based Grattan Institute, the proposal is for the federal government to contribute $30 million towards a $40 million one-off endowment. The new institute would be funded from the earnings on this endowment, plus earnings from providing education, training and other services.

We’ll learn on budget night whether Chalmers and his boss are acting on this sensible idea for achieving a better economy, or whether they will be content with more platitudes on the need for greater productivity.

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RBA will decide how long the economy's slump lasts

The media are always setting “tests” that the government – or the opposition – must pass to stay on top of its game. But this year, it’s the Reserve Bank facing a big test: will it crash the economy in its efforts to get inflation down?

There’s a trick, however: when the Reserve stuffs up, it doesn’t pay the price, the elected government does. This asymmetry is the downside of the modern fashion of allowing central banks to be independent of the elected government. Everything’s fine until the econocrats get it badly wrong.

It’s clear from last week’s national accounts that the economy has slowed to stalling speed. It could easily slip into recession – especially as defined by the lightweight two-successive-quarters-of-negative-growth brigade – or, more likely, just go for a period in which the population keeps growing but the economy, the real gross domestic product, doesn’t, and causes unemployment to keep rising.

Because interest rates affect the economy with a lag, the trick to successful central banking is to get your timing right. If you don’t take your foot off the brake until you see a sign saying “inflation: 2.5 per cent”, you’re bound to run off the road.

So now’s the time to think hard about lifting your foot and, to mix the metaphor, ensuring the landing is soft rather than hard.

Here’s a tip for Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock. If you get it wrong and cause the Albanese government to be tossed out in a year or so’s time, two adverse consequences for the Reserve would follow.

First, it would be decades before the Labor Party ever trusted the Reserve again. Second, the incoming Dutton government wouldn’t feel a shred of secret gratitude to the Reserve for helping it to an undeserved win. Rather, it would think: we must make sure those bastards in Martin Place aren’t able to trip us up like they did Labor.

Last week’s national accounts told us just what we should have expected. They showed that real GDP – the nation’s total production of goods and services – grew by a negligible 0.2 per cent over the three months to the end of December.

This meant the economy grew by 1.5 per cent over the course of 2023. If that looks sort of OK, it isn’t. Get this: over the past five quarters, the percentage rate of growth has been 0.8, 0.6, 0.5, 0.3 and 0.2. How’s that for a predictable result?

Now you know why, just before the figures were released, Treasurer Jim Chalmers warned that we could see a small negative. It’s a warning we can expect to hear again this year.

If you ignore the short-lived, lockdown-caused recession of 2020, 1.5 per cent is the weakest growth in 23 years.

But it’s actually worse than it looks. What measly growth we did get was more than accounted for by the rapid, post-COVID growth in our population. GDP per person fell in all four quarters of last year.

So whereas real GDP grew by 1.5 per cent, GDP per person fell by 1 per cent. We’ve been in a “per-person recession” for a year.

It’s not hard to see where the weaker growth in overall GDP is coming from. Consumer spending makes up more than half of GDP, and it grew by a mere 0.1 per cent in both the December quarter and the year.

At a time when immigration is surging, and it’s almost impossible to find rental accommodation, spending on the building of new homes fell by more than 3 per cent over the year.

Of course, this slowdown is happening not by accident, but by design. Demand for goods and services had been growing faster than the economy’s ability to supply them, permitting businesses of all kinds to whack up their prices and leaving us with a high rate of inflation.

Economists – super-smart though they consider themselves to be – have been able to think of no better way to stop businesses exploiting this opportunity to profit at the expense of their customers than to knock Australia’s households on the head, so they can no longer spend as much.

For the past several decades, we’ve done this mainly by putting up interest rates, so people with mortgages were so tightly pressed they had no choice but to cut their spending. The Reserve began doing this during the election campaign in May 2022, and did it again 12 more times, with the last increase as recently as last November.

It would be wrong, however, to give the Reserve all the credit – or the blame – for the 12 months of slowdown we’ve seen. It’s had help from many quarters. First is the remarkable rise in rents, the chief cause of which is an acute shortage of rental accommodation, affecting roughly a third of households.

Next are the nation’s businesses which, in their zeal to limit inflation, have raised their wages by about 4.5 percentage points less than they’ve raised their prices. Talk about sacrifice.

And finally, there’s the federal government, which has done its bit by restraining its spending and allowing bracket creep to claw back a fair bit of the inflation-caused growth in wage rates. As a consequence, the budget has swung from deficit to surplus, thereby helping to restrain aggregate demand.

It’s the help the Reserve has had from so many sources that risks causing it to underestimate the vigour with which spending is now being restrained. It’s far from the only boy standing on the burning deck.

Last week some were criticising the Reserve for popping up in November, after doing nothing for five months, and giving the interest-rate screws another turn while, as we now know, the economy was still roaring along at the rate of 0.2 per cent a quarter.

The critics are forgetting the politics of economics. That isolated tightening was probably the new governor signalling to the world that she was no pushover when it came to the Reserve’s sacred duty to protect us from inflation.

In any case, a rate rise of a mere 0.25 per cent isn’t much in the scheme of things. It’s possible that quite a few hard-pressed home buyers felt the extra pain. But when did anyone ever worry about them and their pain? It was the central bankers’ duty to sacrifice them to the economy’s greater good – namely, preventing the nation’s profit-happy chief executives from doing what comes naturally to all good oligopolists.

The looming stage 3 tax cuts should give a great boost to the economy, of course, provided seriously rattled families don’t choose to save rather than spend them.

What matters most, however, is by how much unemployment and underemployment rise before the economy resumes firing on all cylinders. So far, the rate of unemployment has risen to 4.1 per cent from its low of 3.5 per cent in February last year.

By recent standards, that’s still an exceptionally low level, and a modest increase in the rate. But for a more definitive assessment, come back this time next year.

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How full employment has changed the economy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Why our standard of living will be rising more slowly

You could call it gloom, or call it realism, but the likelihood is the economy will be growing more slowly from now on.

And we’re talking not just the next year or two – where the Reserve Bank’s rapid rise in interest rates means if we don’t go backwards, we’ll have been let off lightly – but the next maybe 40 years.

No one – not even economists – knows what the future holds, of course. But this long-term slowing is the considered guess of the secretary to the Treasury, Dr Steven Kennedy, who this week gave us his summation of the Treasury’s recent intergenerational report, which makes largely mechanical projections – not hard-and-fast forecasts – for the economy over the 40 years to 2063.

 Kennedy says the projections are “illustrative”. A key assumption on which they’re based, that present government policies don’t change, means the projections demonstrate “the longer-term implications of our current path”.

The report’s “aim is to avoid the risks projected … through ongoing improvement and reform of policy settings”.

Even so, I think we’re justified in concluding that the slower growth the report projects is more likely to eventuate than either unchanged or faster growth. That’s because so many of the factors likely to affect our future growth are beyond the government’s control.

The report projects that real gross domestic product – the nation’s total production of goods and services – having grown by an average of 3.1 per cent a year over the past 40 years, will slow to growth of 2.2 per cent a year over the coming 40 years.

How would this slowdown be explained? The Treasury’s standard way of analysing economic growth is to break it up into the three main drivers of growth – known as “the three Ps”: growth in the population, growth in the population’s participation in the labour force, and growth in the productivity of the workforce.

Notice how people-centred this way of chopping up economic growth is?

First. Population. Whereas our population grew at an average rate of 1.4 per cent a year over the past 40 years, it’s projected to grow by just 1.1 per cent over the coming 40.

These days, “natural increase” – births minus deaths – accounts for only about 40 per cent of the growth in our population, with “net overseas migration” accounting for the remaining 60 per cent.

The Treasury projects a further slow decline in our “fertility rate” – the number of births per woman – which has long been well below the 2.1 children “replacement rate” needed to hold the population steady over the years.

So we’ve long used high immigration to keep the population growing. Net migration fell sharply when we closed our borders during the pandemic. It has surged since the borders were reopened, but the Treasury expects it to fall back to 235,000 people a year once the surge has passed.

This level is what the Treasury projects for the rest of the years to 2063 – meaning that fixed number would fall as a percentage of the growing population. Even so, the population is expected to exceed 40 million in the early 2060s.

It’s just a projection, but I don’t have trouble believing immigration levels will decline rather than increase in the coming years. With all the rich countries – and China - having fertility rates well below the replacement rate, I can see far more competition for immigrants than there has been, especially since we only want skilled immigrants.

This expected slowdown in immigration means the overall size of the economy wouldn’t be growing as fast as it has been, but that doesn’t necessarily mean those of us who are already here will be worse off. That depends less on the economy’s overall growth and more in what’s happening to growth in GDP per person.

The report projects that, whereas real GDP per person grew by 1.8 per cent a year on average over the past 40 years, it will slow to 1.1 per cent a year over the coming 40.

Ahh. So, not just slower growth in the economy, but a much slower rate of improvement in our material standard of living. We’d still be getting more prosperous, but at a rate so small that it would be hard to notice.

And the problem must be coming from the other two Ps – participation and productivity improvement.

At present, the “participation rate” – the proportion of the working-age population that’s either in work or actively seeking it – is the highest it’s ever been, at 66.6 per cent, but the Treasury projects it will have fallen to 63.8 per cent by 2063.

Why? Because the proportion of the population aged 65 and over is projected to rise from 17 per cent to 23 per cent. So population ageing means more people will be too old to work.

But this will be countered to an unknown extent by more women of working age taking paid employment, and a healthier post-65 population choosing to keep working, even if only a few days a week.

However, most of the slowdown in GDP growth per person is explained by the expectation that the rate of improvement in the productivity of labour will be slower.

Whereas productivity improved at an average rate of 1.5 per cent a year over the past 30 years, it’s improved by only 1.2 per cent a year over the past 20 years – and that’s the rate the Treasury has projected over the coming 40 years.

There are plenty of reasons to expect productivity improvement will become harder to achieve. Just one is the greater share of GDP coming from the provision of labour-intensive services and the lesser share from the capital-intensive production of goods. It’s a lot easier to make machines more productive than do the same for people.

Finally, another reason for expecting population, participation and productivity to be weaker in coming decades is that various other rich countries’ experience is leading them to expect the same.

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'Planetary boundaries' set the limits of economic freedom

One of the most important developments in economics is something in which economists had no hand: the identification of the environmental limits which humans, busily producing and consuming, cross at their peril.

Earth has existed for about 4 billion years and humans have lived on Earth for about 200,000 years. For almost all of that time we were hunters and gatherers, but 10,000 to 12,000 years ago we settled down, to farm and create civilisation.

It’s probably no coincidence that, for about that time, Earth has enjoyed a stable climate, with no more ice ages nor period of great heat, in which palms grew in Antarctica. This is the geological epoch called the Holocene, in which we live – although it may be ruled that we’ve moved to the Anthropocene, a new epoch in which the human species has made major alterations to the planet.

In its modern form, economics can be dated to 1776, when Adam Smith published The Wealth of Nations. Beliefs about how the economy works were well-defined by the time Alfred Marshall published Principles of Economics in 1890.

The point is that all economic activity – all the efforts of humans to earn a living – both depends on the natural environment and adversely affects it. By 1900, there were only about 1.6 billion humans on the planet, not enough to do much damage.

If we wrecked some area, we could just move to somewhere that hadn’t been wrecked, while the first bit gradually recovered.

So, at the time conventional economics was established, it was perfectly sensible to assume that the environment’s role in economic activity could be taken for granted. It was just there and it always would be. It was, as economists say, a “free good”.

When, from the 1700s, we started burning fossil fuel – coal, oil and gas – for heat, light and energy, we had no reason to worry that one day it might run out. It certainly never occurred to us that this might end up having an effect on the climate.

It took many decades before scientists began telling us that all the things we were doing to improve our lives – cutting down forests, damming rivers, drilling for water, ploughing, fertilising crops, fishing with nets – were damaging the soil, causing erosion, killing species, lowering the water table, and damaging the environment in other ways.

However, in just the past century or so, the world’s population has gone from 1.6 billion to 8 billion. Every extra human does a bit more damage to the environment. But that’s not the main thing. The main thing that’s changed is our use of advances in technology to hugely increase our standard of living and, in the process, massively increase the damage we’re doing to the environment.

Which brings us to “planetary boundaries”. In 2009, the Swedish scientist Johan Rockstrom and a scientist from the Australian National University, the late Will Steffen, with many helpers, established a framework listing the key categories of environmental damage, and estimating the amount of damage that could be done to each before the risk increased that “the Earth system” could no longer recover.

A second update of these estimates, led by an American oceanographer based in Copenhagen, Katherine Richardson, was released last month. With the ANU’s Professor Xuemei Bai, Richardson has written an article explaining the planetary boundaries.

There are nine boundaries. Three of them cover what we take from the ecological system: loss of biodiversity (extinction of species), loss of fresh water (pumping too much water from rivers and aquifers) and land use (deforestation).

Something economists didn’t know – or didn’t realise affected them – is that the laws of physics say we can never truly get rid of anything that exists on Earth.

All we – or the ecosystem – can do is change the form of the thing. Water can evaporate, but it’s still up in the clouds, for instance. We can cut down a tree, but as it slowly sinks into the dirt, it releases the carbon dioxide it had previously taken up.

This means that all our economic activity leaves in its wake a lot of waste. Not just landfill, but in many other forms.

So, the remaining six boundaries concern the waste our activity greatly adds to what would have occurred naturally. They are: greenhouse gases which cause climate change, ocean acidification (carbon absorbed by the sea), emission of chemicals that deplete the Earth’s ozone layer, “novel entities” (synthetic chemicals such as plastics, DDT and concrete), aerosols, and nutrient overload (nitrogen and phosphorus from fertilisers that wash into rivers and the sea, causing algae blooms, killing fish and coral).

Crossing any of these boundaries doesn’t trigger immediate disaster. But it does mean we’ve moved from the safe zone into dangerous territory. And the nine boundaries are interrelated and interacting, in ways we don’t yet fully understand.

In 2009, the scientists found we’d already crossed three boundaries: biodiversity, climate change and nutrient overload. By the 2015 update, a fourth boundary had been crossed: land use.

And by this year’s update, only three boundaries hadn’t been crossed: ocean acidification (but only just), aerosol pollution, and stratospheric ozone depletion – where an international agreement banning CFCs is slowly reducing the ozone hole we created.

Richardson and Bai say we’re now well into the danger zone, “where we – as well as every other species – are now at risk”. “We are eating away at our own life support systems,” they say.

One thing to be said for economists is that, unlike some, they don’t try to tell scientists how to do their job. Very few economists dispute the scientists’ evidence that climate change has been caused by human activities.

It was economists who developed the best means to reduce carbon emissions – emission trading schemes – which other countries have adopted, but Australia rejected.

When our governments decide to act on the other planetary boundaries, it will be economists who work out the best way to do it.

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We need economic growth to make us better off, right? Well, actually

For all our lives, worthies – our politicians, business people and economists – have assured us we need economic growth to make us better off. Almost everything I write assumes this to be true. But is it?

These days, there are more doubters than there used to be. Some people don’t believe that spending your life striving to own more stuff will make you happy. (Spoiler: they’re right.)

But a growing number of scientists tell us unending growth in the economy simply isn’t physically possible, and the more we keep growing the more we’ll damage the natural environment, to our great cost. Climate change is just the most glaring example of the damage we’re doing.

Historians remind us that our obsession with The Economy is relatively recent. It didn’t take hold until the middle of last century.

What we call “the economy” is all economic activity. It’s people getting up every morning, going out to earn a living, and then spending what they’ve earned. So it’s “getting and spending”, production and consumption. This is measured by gross domestic product – the value of all the goods and services produced during a period.

It was only when we started regularly measuring GDP in the mid-1950s that we began our obsession with whether it was growing and by how much. Or whether – God forfend – it was going backwards.

But these are just modern words and concepts. In truth, Australians have been preoccupied by what today we call economic growth since the day white people arrived. Their magic words were “settlement”, “progress” and “nation building”.

The recent arrivals saw a “new” nation where nothing had been done, but with huge potential for endless bush to be made to resemble the old country. They set about clearing the land, damming rivers, building houses, establishing farms and digging up minerals.

Why? To become more prosperous. They spurred themselves on with the belief they must “populate or perish” – be taken over by invading Asians.

So how do you achieve what we call economic growth? The easiest way is to grow the population. Have lots of kids and encourage (in those days, white-only) immigration. That gives you more people to work, but also more people needing to be fed, clothed, housed and entertained.

Bingo. A bigger economy. But while increasing the population makes the economy, GDP, bigger, it’s really only if the growth increases GDP per person that it can be claimed to make us better off, to have raised our material standard of living. And this doesn’t follow automatically.

The harder way to grow the economy is to increase the proportion of the population in paid employment, or to increase our investment in plant and equipment, and (well-chosen) public infrastructure. This does increase GDP per person.

But there’s another, more magical way to increase GDP per person. It’s to take the same quantity of resources – raw materials, labour and capital equipment – and use them to produce more output of goods and services than you did.

This is what people mean when they talk about increasing our “productivity”. It’s achieved, as economists keep repeating, by “working smarter, not working harder”.

How? By building a better educated and more skilled workforce, and by finding ways to make the organisation of factories and offices more efficient, but mainly by advances in technology that create better machines (and these days, computer programs) doing better tricks.

This is the bit scientists don’t get. When they hear the word “growth” they think of one thing: growth in humans’ exploitation of natural resources and all the damage we do to the environment in the process.

But that’s not what GDP measures. Economists know that most of the growth in GDP over the long term comes from increased productivity, not increased inputs of raw materials, labour and physical capital.

This means that, unless you believe there’s a limit to human ingenuity, it’s not true that continuing growth in GDP is impossible.

But when scientists say more clearly the kind of “growth” they’re referring to – growth in the use of natural resources and “ecosystem services” – it’s not possible to argue with the laws of physics.

While economists used to argue that the “limits to growth” weren’t as close at hand as some scientists had calculated, the possibility of the developing world enjoying the same profligate use of natural resources as the rich world is not credible. We expect the bottom 80 per cent to resign themselves to lives of relative poverty, while we in the top 20 per cent continue partying as though there’s no tomorrow.

So I accept that we and other rich countries will have to greatly constrain our use and abuse of the natural environment if the planet is to remain functional. A “circular economy” in which resources are so expensive that almost everything has to be repaired, reused and recycled? Sure.

But here’s the joke. It wouldn’t be the scientists who worked out how we could move to such an economy, it would be the economists.

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All the reasons interest rates are a bad way to manage the economy

 

In outgoing Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s last speech, he made a striking acknowledgement: monetary policy – the manipulation of interest rates to encourage or discourage spending – “has its limitations, and its effects are felt unevenly across the community”. We should “aspire to something better”.

He’s right. So, here’s my full list of monetary policy’s limitations.

When the economy’s growing strongly, and the demand for goods and services exceeds the economy’s ability to supply them, thus pushing up prices, the need is for all of us to reduce our demand – aka our spending.

Raising interest rates is intended mainly to leave people with less money to spend on other things. But obviously, it only has this effect on people who’ve borrowed a lot, meaning its main effect is on people with big home loans.

Trouble is, only about a third of all households have a mortgage. The rest own their home outright or are renting. And some proportion of those with mortgages have had them for years and by now don’t owe much.

This is what Lowe means by saying monetary policy’s effects are felt unevenly across the community. Younger people with super-sized mortgages really feel it, while the rest of us don’t feel much.

So, using interest rates to discourage spending can be seen as unfair: it picks on only those who happen to have big mortgages.

But the unfairness is multiplied because monetary policy’s selectivity limits its effectiveness. To achieve the desired slowdown in total spending, the 25 per cent or so of households with big mortgages have to be hit all the harder.

But that’s just the most obvious of monetary policy’s “limitations”. Another is its effect not on the people who borrow from banks, but on those who lend to them, aka depositors.

These people – many of whom are retired and depending on interest earnings for their livelihood – should be getting a steady income. Instead, their income bounces around, depending on whether the central bank is trying to encourage or discourage spending.

How is this fair to depositors? And remember this: in principle, when the central bank obliges the banks to increase mortgage interest rates by, say, 4 percentage points, that increase should be passed through to the interest rates on deposits.

In practice, however, this rarely happens in full. With just four big banks dominating the mortgage market, their pricing power lets them widen their interest rate margin between what they pay for deposits and what they charge borrowers.

So, part of the pain the central bank imposes on people with mortgages ends up fattening the pay of bank executives and the dividends of bank shareholders. How is this fair?

Remember the failure of the Silicon Valley Bank in America? It had a lot of money parked in US government bonds, but was wrong-footed by the US Federal Reserve’s sudden move to jack up interest rates.

Central banks are responsible for ensuring the stability of the banking system. But their use of interest rates to manage demand can add to banking instability in a way that other means of influencing demand wouldn’t.

It hasn’t been a problem in Australia, however, because our much more oligopolised banking system means our banks are hugely profitable and so less likely to fall over.

On the other hand, whereas in the US and elsewhere home loans have an interest rate that’s fixed over the long life of the loan, most of our home loans have rates that can be changed as often as the bank thinks necessarily.

It’s this that makes monetary policy more immediately effective – and painful – in Australia than in other economies. A reason we should start the move away from monetary policy.

Lowe is right to say that monetary policy isn’t primarily to blame for the high cost of housing. It is, as he says, the result of the way we’ve encouraged our politicians to bias the system in favour of those who already own a home, to the disadvantage of those who’d like to own one.

Even so, watching all those young people signing up for massive loans while interest rates were at unprecedented lows during the pandemic made me wonder if the Reserve’s moving of interest rates up and down doesn’t create a FOMO effect: when rates are low, first-home buyers load up with debt – and bid up house prices – for “fear of missing out” when rates go back up.

As Lowe acknowledged after his speech, the continued use of monetary policy as pretty much our only means of slowing demand is threatened by another, quite different development: the slow disappearance of the world long-term real interest rate, which has had the lasting effect of lowering world nominal interest rates by about 3 percentage points, and so bringing them much closer to the “zero lower bound”, known to normal people as just zero.

This means interest rates can still be raised to discourage borrowing and spending but – as we’ve witnessed over the past decade – often can’t be cut very far to encourage borrowing and spending.

At the time of the global financial crisis in 2008, and again during the pandemic, the US Federal Reserve and the other big central banks sought to overcome this barrier by resorting to unconventional “quantitative easing” (QE) – mainly, buying shed loads of second-hand government bonds to force down longer-term interest rates.

One of the main effects of this has been to lower the country’s exchange rate at the expense of its trading partners. Which is why, once the Fed starts doing it, other central banks feel they have to do it too, in self-defence.

But while “QE” seems quite effective in raising the prices of assets such as shares, it’s not very effective in boosting demand for goods and services and thus encouraging economic growth.

I think history will judge QE to have been a bad idea. It will be another reason we’ll need to become much less reliant on interest rates to manage the economy.

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Jury still out on how much hip pocket pain still coming our way

It’s not yet clear whether the Reserve Bank’s efforts to limit inflation will end up pushing the economy into recession. But it is clear that workers and their households will continue having to pay the price for problems they didn’t cause.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese didn’t cause them either. But he and his government are likely to cop much voter anger should the squeeze on households’ incomes reach the point where many workers lose their jobs.

And he’ll have contributed to his fate should he continue with his apparent intention to leave the stage-three income tax cuts in their present, grossly unfair form.

The good news is that we’re due to get huge hip pocket relief via the tax cuts due next July. The bad news is that the savings will be small for most workers, but huge – $170 a week – for high-income earners who’ve suffered little from the squeeze on living costs.

Should Albanese fail to rejig the tax cuts to make them fairer, you can bet Peter Dutton will be the first to point this out. But he’ll need to be quick to beat the Greens to saying it.

Those possibilities are for next year, however. What we learnt this week is how the economy fared over the three months to the end of June. The Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts” show it continuing just to limp along.

Real gross domestic product – the value of the nation’s production of goods and services – grew by only 0.4 per cent – the same as it grew in the previous, March quarter. Looking back, this means annual growth slowed from 2.4 per cent to 2.1 per cent.

If you know that annual growth usually averages about 2.5 per cent, that doesn’t sound too bad. But if you take a more up-to-date view, the economy’s been growing at an annualised (made annual) rate of about 1.6 per cent for the past six months. That’s just limping along.

And it’s not as good as it looks. More than all the 0.4 per cent growth in GDP during the June quarter was explained by the 0.7 per cent growth in the population as immigration recovers.

So when you allow for population growth, you find that GDP per person actually fell by 0.3 per cent. The same was true in the previous quarter – hence all the people saying we’re suffering a “per capita recession”.

As my colleague Shane Wright so aptly puts it, the economic pie is still growing but, with more people to share it, the slices are thinner.

It’s possible that continuing population growth will stop GDP from actually contracting, helping conceal from the headline writers how tough so many households are faring.

But the media’s notion that we’re not in recession unless GDP falls for two quarters in a row has always been silly. What makes recessions such terrible things is not what happens to GDP, but what happens to workers’ jobs.

It’s when unemployment starts shooting up – because workers are being laid off and because young people finishing their education can’t find their first proper job – that you know you’re in recession.

In the month of July, the rate of unemployment ticked up from 3.5 per cent to 3.7 per cent, leaving an extra 35,000 people out of a job. If we see a lot more of that, there will be no doubt we’re in recession.

But why has the economy’s growth become so weak? Because households account for about half the total spending in the economy, and they’ve slashed how much they spend.

Although consumer spending grew by 0.8 per cent in the September quarter of last year, in each of the following two quarters it grew by just 0.3 per cent, and in the June quarter it slowed to a mere 0.1 per cent.

Households’ disposable (after-tax) income rose by 1.1 per during the latest quarter but, after allowing for inflation, it actually fell by 0.2 per cent – by no means the first quarter it’s done so.

What’s more, it fell even though more people were working more hours than ever before. People worked 6.8 per cent more hours than a year earlier.

So why did real disposable income fall? Because consumer prices rose faster than wage rates did. Over the year to June, prices rose by 6 per cent, whereas wage rates rose by 3.6 per cent.

Understandably, people make a big fuss over the way households with big mortgages have been squeezed by the huge rise in interest rates. But they say a lot less about the way those same households plus the far greater number of working households without mortgages have been squeezed a second way: by their wage rates failing to rise in line with prices.​

This is why I say the nation’s households are paying the price for fixing an inflation problem they didn’t cause. It’s the nation’s businesses that put up their prices by a lot more than they’ve been prepared to raise their wage rates.

Businesses have acted to protect their profits and – in more than a few cases – actually increase their rate of profitability. In the process, they risk maiming the golden geese (aka customers) that lay the golden eggs they so greatly covet.

If you think that’s unfair, you’re right – it is. But that’s the way governments and central banks have long gone about controlling inflation once it’s got away. It was easier for them to justify in the olden days – late last century – when it was often the unions that caused the problem by extracting excessive wage rises.

But those days are long gone. These days, evidence is accumulating that the underlying problem is the increased pricing power so many of our big businesses have acquired as they’ve been allowed to take over their competitors and prevent new businesses from entering their industry.

The name Qantas springs to mind for some reason, but I’m sure I could think of others.

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NSW Treasury's new realism: productivity won't be speeding up

Have you noticed how people keep banging on about “productivity” these days? That’s because it’s the secret sauce of economics, the bit that comes closest to giving us a free lunch. But also because we haven’t actually been getting much of it lately.

Unfortunately, that’s made productivity a happy hunting ground for bulldust propositions. So let’s spell out exactly what productivity is.

A business – or a whole economy – improves its productivity when it finds ways to produce more outputs of goods and services with the same inputs of raw materials, labour and physical capital.

Sounds a great idea, but how is it possible? Short answer: advances in technology. Workers become more productive when they’re given tools and machines to work with. Many improvements in technology are designed to make workers more productive.

Better education and training make workers more productive by increasing their “human capital”. Even finding better ways to organise factories and offices can improve productivity. So can be teaching bosses better ways to jolly along their troops.

In my writing about the topic, I always focus on the simplest and least inaccurate way of measuring productivity. The productivity of labour is just output per worker or, better, output per hour worked.

Another approach would be to measure the productivity of the other main “factor of production”, capital equipment and constructions: output per unit of capital employed.

But economists often prefer to focus on “total-factor productivity” (or “multifactor productivity” as the statisticians prefer to call it): the growth in output (gross domestic product) that can’t be explained by increased use of labour and capital.

Economists have discovered that most of the improvement in people’s material standard of living over the years and centuries has come from improvement in total-factor productivity. This is why economists seem so obsessed by it. Keep productivity improving and we get wealthier.

But, as you see, total-factor productivity can’t be measured directly. It’s measured as a residual – what’s left when you take GDP and subtract two different things – which increases the chance your measurement is wrong.

And the truth is, economists don’t know as much about what causes productivity improvement as they ought to. That’s why they’ve spent the past decade debating the reasons that productivity growth has slowed significantly in all the advanced economies, not just Australia.

Theories abound, but there’s no agreement. And while we’re hearing plenty of tub-thumping sermons from business people (and central bankers) with their own axes to grind, there’s no agreement on what we should be doing apart from blaming the government and demanding it do something.

But last year, Professor Thomas Philippon of New York University wrote a working paper that offered a quite different explanation for the weak productivity growth we’ve been experiencing.

Conventional economic theory assumes that total-factor productivity grows “exponentially”, but Philippon has examined America’s productivity figures since 1947 – and done the same for a large group of other advanced economies – and found the growth has merely been “linear”.

Huh? Try this. If you have $100 growing 2 per cent each year, that’s exponential. If instead it just grows by $2 a year, that’s linear. Exponential growth is a fixed percentage rate; linear growth is a fixed absolute amount. The first $2 is 2 per cent of $100, but over the years the percentage rate of growth slowly declines.

So Philippon is saying we’ve been expecting productivity to grow at a much faster percentage rate than we should have been. Because its growth is “additive” rather than “multiplicative”, its annual percentage growth is declining.

The assumption that productivity improvement is exponential implies that innovation today makes further discoveries easier in the future. Philippon, however, finds that new ideas add to our stock of knowledge, but they don’t multiply it.

In the NSW Treasury’s new research paper, Trends in productivity: What should we expect, Keaton Jenner and Angus Wheeler have replicated Philippon’s exercise for Australia, getting similar results.

Whereas the standard exponential model implies that total-factor productivity should have grown at the annual rate of 1.7 per cent between 1983 and 2019, they find this significantly overshoots actual productivity growth.

But the new, additive model implies that productivity increases by 0.024 points per year, with an annual growth rate that tapers down from 1.25 per cent in 1984 to 0.9 per cent in 2019.

So, Philippon’s additive model yields what would have been a much more accurate – though still slightly optimistic – forecast.

This suggests that, without some major new “general-purpose” technological advance (such as the spread of electricity, or the internal-combustion engine), the model predicts that total-factor productivity growth will slowly fall to zero per cent.

But this doesn’t mean living standards wouldn’t continue to improve. Because living standards are powered by the productivity of labour, the authors find, they would grow by increasingly larger absolute amounts, but not at a steady, exponential rate of growth.

In the NSW government’s intergenerational report in 2021, productivity projections were based on the historical 30-year average exponential rate of 1.2 per cent a year. Other assumptions meant that real gross state product was projected to grow at an average rate of 2.2 per cent a year out to 2041.

The authors repeat this exercise using an additive productivity model and find that annual growth in labour productivity declines from 1 per cent to 0.8 per cent over the 20 years to 2041. This means an average annual rate of growth in real gross state product of 1.9 per cent – 0.3 percentage points lower that projected in the 2021 report.

The authors point out that, if realised, the NSW economy would be about 7 percentage points smaller in 2041 than was projected in the report two years’ ago. This, in turn, would have “material implications” for the government’s revenue base and budget balance, assuming no offsetting reduction in government spending.

It will be interesting to see if Victoria and the other state governments recalibrate their projections using this new, more pessimistic – but more realistic – view of the future.

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Another rise in interest rates is enough already

Whatever decision the Reserve Bank board makes about interest rates at its meeting tomorrow morning – departing governor Dr Philip Lowe’s second-last – the stronger case is for no increase. Indeed, I agree with those business economists saying we’ve probably had too many increases already.

If so – and I hope I’m wrong – we’ll miss the “narrow path” to the sought-after “soft landing” and hit the ground with a bang. We’ll have the recession we didn’t have to have. (That’s where recession is measured not the lazy, mindless way – two successive quarters of “negative growth” – but the sensible way: a big rise in unemployment over just a year or so.)

For those too young to know why recessions are dreaded, it’s not what happens to gross domestic product that matters (it’s just a sign of the looming disaster) but what happens to people: lots of them lose their jobs, those leaving education can’t find decent jobs, and some businesses collapse.

Market economists usually focus on guessing what the Reserve will do, not saying what it should do. (That’s because they’re paid to advise their bank’s money-market traders, who are paid to lay bets on what the Reserve will do.)

That’s why it’s so notable to see people such as Deloitte Access Economics’ Stephen Smith and AMP’s Dr Shane Oliver saying the Reserve has already increased interest rates too far.

Last week’s consumer price index for the June quarter gave us strong evidence that the rate of inflation is well on the way down. After peaking at 7.8 per cent over the year to December, it’s down to 6 per cent over the year to June.

As we’ve been told repeatedly, this was “less than expected”. Yes, but by whom? Usually, the answer is: by economists in the money markets. Here’s a tip: what money-market economists were forecasting is of little interest to anyone but them.

That almost always proves what we already know: economists are hopeless at forecasting the economy. Even after the fact, and just a week before we all know the truth. No, the only expectation that matters is what the Reserve was expecting. Why? Because it’s the economist with its hand on the interest-rate lever.

So, it does matter that the Reserve was expecting annual inflation of 6.3 per cent. That is, inflation’s coming down faster than it thought. Back to the drawing board.

The Reserve takes much notice of its preferred measure of “underlying” inflation. It’s down to 5.9 per cent. But when the economy’s speeding up or slowing down, the latest annual change contains a lot of historical baggage.

This is why the Americans focus not on the annual rate of change, but the “annualised” (made annual) rate, which you get by compounding the quarterly change (or, if you can’t remember the compounding formula, by multiplying the number by four).

Have you heard all the people saying, “oh, but 6 per cent is still way above the target of 2 to 3 per cent”? Well, if you annualise the most recent information we have, that prices rose by 0.8 per cent in the June quarter, you get 3.3 per cent. Clearly, we’re making big progress.

But the next time someone tells you we’re still way above the target, ask them if they’ve ever heard of “lags”. Central Banking 101 says that monetary policy (fiddling with interest rates) takes a year or more to have its full effect, first on economic activity (growth in gross domestic product and, particularly, consumer spending), then on the rate at which prices are rising. What’s more, the length of the lag (delay) can vary.

This is why central bankers are supposed to remember that, if you keep raising rates until you’re certain you’ve done enough to get inflation down where you want it, you can be certain you’ve done too much. Expect a hard landing, not a soft one.

Since the road to lower inflation runs via slower growth in economic activity, remember this: the national accounts show real GDP slowing to growth of 0.2 per cent in the March quarter, with growth in consumer spending also slowing to 0.2 per cent.

How much slower would you like it to get?

The next weak argument for a further rate rise is: “the labour market’s still tight”. The figures for the month of June showed the rate of unemployment still stuck at a 50-year low of 3.5 per cent, with employment growing by 32,600.

But the nation’s top expert on the jobs figures is Melbourne University’s Professor Jeff Borland. He notes that, in the nine months to August last year, employment grew by an average of 55,000 a month – about double the rate pre-pandemic.

Since August, however, it’s grown by an average of 35,600 a month. Sounds like a less-tight labour market to me.

And Borland makes a further point. Whereas the employment figures measure filled jobs, the actual number of jobs can be thought of as filled jobs plus vacant jobs – which tells us how much work employers want done.

This is a better indicator of how “tight” the labour market is. And, because vacancies are falling, the growth in total jobs has slowed much faster. Since the middle of last year, part of the growth in employment has come from reducing the stock of vacancies.

Another thing the Reserve (and its money-market urgers) need to remember is that, when it comes to slowing economic activity to slow the rise in prices, interest rates (aka monetary policy) aren’t the only game in town.

Professor Ross Garnaut, also of Melbourne University, wants to remind us that “fiscal policy” (alias the budget) is doing more to help than we thought. The now-expected budget surplus of at least $20 billion means that, over the year to June 30, the federal budget pulled $20 billion more out of the economy than it put back in.

Garnaut says he likes the $20 billion surplus because, among other reasons, “we can run lower interest rates”.

One last thing the Reserve board needs to remember. Usually, when it’s jamming on the interest-rate brakes to get inflation down, the problem’s been caused by excessive growth in wages. Not this time.

Since prices took off late in 2021, wages have fallen well behind those prices. Indeed, wages haven’t got much ahead of prices for about the past decade. And while consumer prices rose by 7 per cent over the year to March, the wage price index rose by only 3.7 per cent.

This has really put the squeeze on household incomes and households’ ability to keep increasing their spending. And that’s before you get to what rising interest rates are doing.

Dear Reserve Bank board members, please remember all this tomorrow morning.

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Wellbeing? Measure what matters, then start fixing it

In this rushing world, it’s easy for the new, the exciting, the entertaining or the worrying to crowd out the merely important. But that’s one reason mastheads have columnists. To say, hey, don’t overlook this, it’s important.

If, like all sensible people, you think there’s more to life than gross domestic product – more than “the economy”, narrowly defined – you need to take more notice of Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ long-promised Measuring What Matters wellbeing framework, released on Friday.

Taken as just another news story, it was a remarkably unremarkable document. It gathered 50 statistical indicators of Australians’ wellbeing, only a few of which were the standard economic indicators.

Of these, 20 show an improvement since the early 2000s, 12 have deteriorated, while the rest have shown little change or mixed outcomes. Our headline shouted the astonishing news: “We’re living longer, but cuddly animals are on the decline.”

Meanwhile, the government’s unceasing critics had much sneering fun pointing out how outdated some figures were. Did you see they say home owners are finding it easier to repay their mortgages?

Hopeless. It’s obviously just Labor’s “pitch to progressives living in Green and teal colonies”.

Actually, it’s a genuine effort to acknowledge and pay more attention to all the aspects of our lives that matter in addition to how many of us have jobs, how much we earn and what we’re spending it on.

The people who know a lot and care a lot about our wellbeing, in all its dimensions – such as Warwick Smith, director of the Centre for Policy Development’s Wellbeing Initiative – were much less critical. They said it was a good start, and could be improved and built upon, with the ultimate objective of having our greater consciousness of these other priority areas doing more to influence what the government was spending its time trying to improve.

Few economists would disagree with the frequent claim that GDP isn’t a good measure of wellbeing or progress. Indeed, the first person to say it was the bloke who invented GDP in the 1930s, Simon Kuznets.

It’s just that, economists being economists, they’ve continued to focus on GDP – economic growth – and left the better measures of wellbeing to others. Politicians have continued to focus on economic growth because that’s what the rich and powerful care most about. They’re hoping it will make them richer and more powerful.

It’s precisely because our leaders have been so focused on GDP as a measure of economic growth that our economic statistics are comprehensive and up to date, but our measurements of other things aren’t.

So, getting fair dinkum about “measuring what matters” involves giving the Australian Bureau of Statistics more money to measure the other things that matter more fully and more frequently.

Having been a bean counter in both my careers, I know the boring, pettifogging importance of measurement. As they say, what gets measured gets managed. You want to get your map sorted before you take off into the jungle.

But what are the other, non-standard things that matter most to our wellbeing? This is what we got on Friday: the government’s decision about the key components of wellbeing. This is the wellbeing “framework”.

It nominates five dimensions of wellbeing. First, health. “A society in which people feel well and are in good physical and mental health, can access services when they need, and have the information they require to take action to improve their health,” the framework says.

Second, security. “A society where people live peacefully, feel safe, have financial security and access to housing.”

Third, sustainability. “A society that sustainably uses natural and financial resources, protects and repairs the environment and builds resilience to combat challenges.”

Fourth, cohesion. “A society that supports connections with family, friends and the community, values diversity, promotes belonging and culture.”

And finally, prosperity. “A society that has a dynamic, strong economy, invests in people’s skills and education, and provides broad opportunities for employment and well-paid, secure jobs.”

Each of these five “themes” (dimensions is a better word) are “underpinned” by the need for “inclusion, equity and fairness” (but if there’s a difference between equity and fairness, I don’t know it).

I think that covers the bases. Sounds a nice place to live. It puts the economy into a broader, more balanced context. The economy is vitally important – it’s our bread and butter, after all – but so are many other things.

If we nail it on prosperity but go backward on the others, why would that be good? The rich could survey the ruins around them and say, I won!

And there’s a lot of interdependence. Good luck with your economy once you’ve irreparably damaged the natural environment on which it depends.

On many of these dimensions, what we need to know is not so much how well we’re doing on average, but who’s missing out and needs help. Not who’s included, but who’s excluded. (Something a Voice would make it harder to forget.)

But measurement is just a means to an end. Until what we know affects what our governments do, it’s just box-ticking.

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Maybe Lowe should stay on as governor to clean up any spilt milk

I’ve never liked making free with the R-word until it’s an undeniable reality. Too many journalists refuse to recognise that if enough people in positions of influence predict bad things enough times, their predictions have a tendency to become reality.

But I confess I’m starting to worry that Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe – a man who, until now, I’ve always regarded as having steady judgment – is pressing harder on the interest-rate brakes than he needs to. And I don’t think I’m the only economy-watcher who shares that fear.

He seems to be seizing on any argument that says he should give the thumbscrews another turn, while ignoring all the arguments that say he’s already done enough. The Fair Work Commission has awarded the people whose wages constitute the bottom 10th of the national wage bill a 5.75 per cent pay rise. Oh, no! Give it another turn.

Employment grew by 76,000 in May and the unemployment rate went down a fraction. Oh, no! Give it another turn.

One of the rules of using interest rates to suppress demand is that they work with “long and variable lags” so that, if you keep tightening until it’s clear you’ve done enough, you’ve already done too much and will crash the economy. But Lowe seems to have forgotten this.

Another thing he seems to have forgotten is that, in times past, we’ve needed a big increase in interest rates to slow a booming economy because the boom has resulted in real wages growing so strongly.

Not this time. This time an unusual feature of the boom has been that real wages have been falling for several years. Do you realise that real labour costs per unit of production are now 6 per cent lower than they were at the end of 2019?

What’s been (conveniently) forgotten is that, in the early days of the pandemic, when we imagined we were in for a severe recession, employers were quick to demand a wage freeze, to which workers readily acquiesced.

Turned out that a couple of lockdowns don’t equal a recession, and employers did fine. But there was no suggestion of a catch-up for the wage freeze that wasn’t needed. Remember this next time you see Lowe banging on about the worrying rise in nominal labour costs per unit.

If Lowe knew more about how wages are fixed in the real world, rather than in economics textbooks, he’d have noticed that the union movement’s failure to talk about the need for a wage catch-up was a sign of its diminished bargaining power.

(He’d also be more conscious that the conventional economic model’s implicit assumption – that the parties to every transaction are of roughly equal bargaining power – doesn’t hold between an employer and an employee. Nor between a big business and a small business, for that matter.)

Then there’s Lowe’s invention of a new doctrine (one previously exclusive to bull-dusting employer groups) that workers need to produce more if they want their wages merely to keep up with inflation.

Lowe professes to be terribly worried about a fall in the productivity of labour in recent quarters but, as The Conversation website’s Peter Martin has reminded us, falling productivity (output per hour worked) is exactly what you’d expect to see at a time when falling unemployment is returning us to full employment.

Employers have preferred to hire more workers rather than buy more labour-saving machines. And, as the econocrats have pointed out, they’re having to hire more of the kinds of workers they usually prefer not to hire – the young, the old and the long-term unemployed.

That is, they’ve had to start hiring the less-productive. This is a bad thing, is it?

One reason I’m shocked by Lowe’s newly invented line that, absent productivity improvement, all wage growth above 2.5 per cent is inflationary, is that I was around in the 1970s when wage growth really was excessive and inflationary. It was to be condemned then; but anyone saying it now has moved the goal posts.

It was then that Treasury made so much fuss about labour costs per unit that the Bureau of Statistics began publishing the figures every quarter – the ones Lowe has been leaning on so heavily.

But when the Australia Institute think tank copied the method used by the European Central Bank (and now by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development) to calculate profits per unit, the econocrats wrote learned treatises saying its method was “flawed”. Apparently, sauce for the wages goose is not sauce for the profits gander.

Speaking of flaws, the flaw in Lowe’s new-found argument that wage rises exceeding 2.5 per cent, but less than the rise in prices, are inflationary ought to be obvious to anyone not blinded by pro-business bias. It doesn’t add to the inflation rate, but it does add to the time it takes for the inflation rate to fall back.

So, what Lowe’s on about is the speed at which inflation is returning to (the now unrealistically low) target range of 2 to 3 per cent. And he’s in such a tearing hurry he’s prepared to risk causing a recession.

Why? Well, what I wonder is whether Lowe’s expectation that his term as governor won’t be renewed in September – so a new governor can make the changes the Reserve Bank review has recommended – is affecting his judgment.

There’s a concept in economics called “revealed preference” which says: judge people not by what they say, but what they do. Lowe says he’s aiming for the “narrow path” to low inflation without a recession.

But what he seems to be aiming for is low inflation come hell or high water. I wonder if he’s decided he prefers not to be remembered as the governor who let inflation get out of control, but left without fixing it.

If, to avoid that fate, he has to be remembered as the guy who plunged the economy into a recession no one thought was needed, then them’s the breaks.

The sad truth about independent central banks is that, if they really stuff up, it’s the elected government that gets blamed. Since there’s no voting for who’s to be governor, there’s no other way voters can register their disaffection.

So, if Lowe continues finding excuses to tighten the monetary screws, don’t be surprised if the Albanese government gets ever less muted in its criticism.

But if I were Treasurer Jim Chalmers, I’d consider postponing the reform of the Reserve’s procedures and extending Lowe’s term, so his mind could be fully focused on achieving the soft landing – or be around to share the blame if he crashes the plane. And help mop up the debris if he fails. This may also stop him acting so uncharacteristically.

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Economy close to stalling, as Reserve hits the brakes yet again

It’s been a puzzling week, as we learnt the economy had slowed almost to stalling speed, just a day after the Reserve Bank raised interest rates for the 12th time, and warned there may be more.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics’ “national accounts”, real gross domestic product – the economy’s production of goods and services – grew by just 0.2 per cent over the three months to the end of March.

That took growth over the year to March down to 2.3 per cent, which sounds better than it is because the economy has slowed so rapidly. If it continued growing by 0.2 per cent a quarter, that would be annual growth of 0.8 per cent.

And the resumption of immigration means the population is now growing faster than the economy. Allow for population growth and GDP per person actually fell by 0.2 per cent. Over the year to March, it grew by only 0.3 per cent.

While a growing population is good for businesses – they have more potential customers – to everyone else, economic growth has been sold to us as raising our material standard of living. Not much chance of that if GDP per person is falling.

The Reserve Bank has been trying to slow the economy down because demand for goods and services has been growing faster than the economy’s ability to supply them, thus allowing businesses to increase their prices.

With additional help from the rising prices of imported goods and services, the rate of inflation has shot up. It’s started falling back from its peak of 7.8 per cent at the end of last year, but is still way above the Reserve’s 2 per cent to 3 per cent target range.

The Reserve’s been raising the interest rates paid by the third of households with mortgages, to reduce their ability to spend on other things. But, at this stage, probably the biggest dampener on consumer spending is coming from the failure of wages to keep up with rising prices.

“Demand” means spending, so if households find it harder to spend on goods and services, that makes it harder for businesses to raise their prices, thus bringing the inflation rate back down.

And remember that the full effect of all the interest rate rises we’ve seen is still to be felt. The pain will increase over the rest of this year.

But if I were Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe, I wouldn’t be too worried that the plan wasn’t working. The biggest single factor driving GDP is consumer spending, which accounts for more than half of all spending. In the June quarter last year, it grew by 2.2 per cent.

The following quarter its growth fell to 0.8 per cent, then 0.3 per cent, and now 0.2 per cent. Wow. I think the squeeze is working.

Although more people have been working more hours, real household disposable income fell by 0.3 per cent in the quarter, and by 4 per cent over the year to March.

It was hit by the failure of wages to rise in line with prices, by the doubling in households’ interest payments, and by the bigger bite that income tax took out of pay rises, caused by bracket creep.

How did households manage to keep their consumption spending growing despite their falling real income? By cutting the proportion of their income that they were saving from more than 11 per cent in March quarter last year to less than 4 per cent this March quarter – the lowest it’s been in about 15 years.

Household investment spending on newly built homes and alterations fell by 1.2 per cent, its sixth fall in seven quarters.

One bright spot was growth in business spending during the quarter of 2.9 per cent, led by spending on machinery and equipment, and non-dwelling construction – particularly on renewables and electricity infrastructure.

Unfortunately, much of the machinery investment was on imported equipment that had been delayed by the pandemic, so it’s not a sign of continuing strength. The volume of spending on imports was a super-strong 3.2 per cent, but imports subtract from GDP, of course.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers always blames the economy’s slowdown on higher interest rates (blame the Reserve, not me), high inflation (not me either) and “a slowing global economy” (blame the rest of the world).

A slowing global economy? Yes, of course. Everyone’s heard about that. Trouble is, the main way the rest of the world affects us is by buying – or not buying – our exports. And the volume of our exports grew by 1.8 per cent in the March quarter, and 10.8 per cent over the year to March. That’s because our miners have done so well (and our fossil-fuel-using households and businesses so badly) out of the higher world coal and gas prices caused by the Ukraine war.

Even so, this quarter’s growth in export volumes of 1.8 per cent has been swamped by the 3.2 per cent growth in import volumes, meaning that “net exports” – exports minus imports – subtracted 0.2 percentage points from the overall growth in real GDP during the quarter.

After Lowe’s decision on Tuesday to raise rates yet again, Chalmers wasn’t mincing his words. “I do expect that there will be a lot of Australians who find this decision difficult to understand and difficult to cop – ordinary working Australians are already bearing the brunt of these interest rate rises, they shouldn’t bear the blame too,” he said.

“The Reserve Bank’s job is to quash inflation without crashing the economy, and they will have a lot of time and opportunities to explain and defend the decision that they’ve taken today.”

Lowe has said repeatedly that he’s seeking the “narrow path” where “inflation returns to target within a reasonable timeframe, while the economy continues to grow, and we hold on to as many of the gains in the labour market [our return to full employment] as we can”.

After seeing the next day’s GDP figures, Paul Bloxham of HSBC bank observed that the narrow path “is looking extremely narrow indeed”. True.

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