You can blame Albanese for all our woes - except the cost of living

I try not to be a pollie basher – we get the politicians we deserve – but I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more disillusioned and disheartened by the performance of both major parties. It’s fair to criticise them on every topic except the one that obsesses us: the cost-of-living crisis.

Let’s start with that. For several years, we had prices rising at a rate that was actually lower than the Reserve Bank and economists regarded as healthy: less than 2 per cent a year. But then, in the months before the federal election in May 2022, at which Scott Morrison and crew were tossed out, prices took off.

By the end of that year, consumer prices had risen by almost 8 per cent. As you remember, the Reserve Bank began trying to get inflation back under control the only, crude way it knows: to discourage households from spending so much by using higher interest rates – particularly on home loans – to leave us with less to spend on other things.

Why did the Reserve Bank start raising rates during the election campaign, rather than waiting until it was over? Because it foresaw that a change of government was likely and didn’t want anyone getting the idea that it was the new government that had caused the problem.

By the same token, it’s hard to blame the surge in prices on the Morrison government. Prices took off in all the rich economies for much the same reasons. First, because the pandemic caused major disruption to supply of many goods, and because Russia’s attack on Ukraine disrupted world gas and oil markets.

But second, because the efforts to prop the economy up during the lockdowns – by slashing interest rates almost to zero, and the shedloads of government spending on the JobKeeper scheme, the temporary doubling of unemployment benefits, and on many other things – proved to be wildly excessive. When people started spending all that extra money, demand for goods and services grew faster than businesses’ ability to supply them, so they whacked up their prices.

You could blame this gross miscalculation on Morrison & Co – except that it was the first pandemic the world had seen in a century, the medicos had no idea how bad it would be or how long it would take to develop a vaccine, and like all governments everywhere, our government and its econocrats decided it would be safer to do too much than too little.

Since then, the passing of the international supply disruptions and the Reserve Bank’s many interest-rate increases have succeeded in getting the rate of price increase down a long way. But the bank won’t start cutting interest rates until it’s convinced our return to the 2 to 3 per cent inflation target zone will last.

Despite the unceasing criticism of a largely partisan news media, the Albanese government’s part in helping get inflation back under control has been as good as it’s reasonable to expect.

One reason it’s taking so long is that both the government and the Reserve Bank have been trying to avoid causing a huge rise in unemployment, and in this, they’ve been spectacularly successful. The proportion of the working-age population with jobs is at a record high.

So if it’s not fair to blame Albanese and his ministers for the cost-of-living crisis, why am I so critical and disapproving of the government – not to mention the opposition?

Because on almost every other matter Albanese has touched, he’s done far less than he should have. And in their time on the opposition benches, the Liberals and their Coalition partners have laboured mightily to make themselves more extreme and less electable.

As always, we turned to a new government in 2022 full of hope that it would make a much better fist of dealing with our many problems. And it’s always been true that Albanese and his people knew what needed doing. It’s just that, somewhere along the line, he seems to have lost his bottle.

He’s done a bit to tackle each of our big problems, but with one exception, he’s stopped short of doing nearly enough. Everything gets a lick and a promise.

The one exception has been the government’s significant efforts to reduce job insecurity – to improve the wages and conditions of less-skilled workers – for which we can thank the unions. Under the Labor Party’s constitution, the union movement holds a mortgage over the party and its members of parliament.

On everything else, Albanese seems to live in fear of annoying some interest group somewhere. So he always does something, but never enough. When business and other interest groups lobby the government privately to tone down its planned changes, he invariably obliges.

You can see this in the government’s changes to gambling advertising, Medicare bulk-billing, the adequate taxation of mining and gas, the National Anti-Corruption Commission (no public hearings), the housing crisis, vocational education and training, aged care and so forth.

But on no issue has Albanese failed so badly as on the one most vital to our future: climate change. Sure, he’s shored up the Coalition government’s “safeguard mechanism” and legislated the target of reducing emissions by 43 per cent by 2030. At the same time, however, he’s acted to secure the future of natural gas extraction and authorised expansion of three big coal mines.

It’s as though he’s taking an each-way bet. He seems desperate to stay in office, but has no great plans to govern effectively.

Meanwhile, under Peter Dutton, the Liberals and their pro-mining National Party colleagues have used their time in opposition to make themselves negative, divisive and utterly unworthy to take over from a weak government. Their one substantive policy is to be off with the nuclear fairies.

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How to avoid being conned by business lobby groups

The obvious question arising from big business’s onslaught against Anthony Albanese and his government is: do Australia’s voters know which sides their bread is buttered on? Sorry, boss, I think they usually do.

Last week the (Big) Business Council let fly against Albanese & Co. with both barrels. According to its chief executive, rather than feeling confident in our growing national prosperity, many of the big-business chief executives who make up the council’s membership “feel we are losing our way”.

“Instead of taking big steps on the things that matter, we are taking incremental – but noticeable – steps backwards. We have let the balance shift too far away from encouraging Australians to grow, hire, innovate and be more competitive on the world stage,” he said.

What were the big steps Albanese was failing to take? Reducing red tape, making workplace laws more flexible, making planning systems simpler and the tax system more efficient.

But “abolishing multi-employer bargaining must be seen as a priority,” he said.

This fits with the equally vehement criticism from the Mining Council the previous week, which claimed Albanese’s “reckless” industrial relations laws were already bringing conflict “to every workplace in every industry”.

Ah. So that’s what’s biting big business. But the criticism doesn’t stop there. As the business press revealed, even former trade union leader Bill Kelty – who was virtually a member of the Hawke-Keating government’s cabinet – was highly critical.

The Albanese government “seems to have lost its way” and was “mired in mediocrity”, Kelty is reported to have said to a private business gathering. “We need a Labor Party agenda in which the big issues are confronted.”

What the business press didn’t seem to know is that Kelty’s “big issues” are hardly likely to have much in common with big business’s big issues. And I very much doubt that Albanese’s industrial relations changes would have been among them.

There are plenty of good reasons for being disappointed with this government’s performance. Also last week, former Labor heavy Gareth Evans has accused the Albanese government of political timidity, condemning its instinct to “move into cautious, defensive, wedge-avoiding mode”.

Evans said in a speech: “One can’t avoid the impression that more and more people are asking: what exactly is this Labor government for?”

Just so. Now that’s a criticism many of us could share, without bearing the government any ill-will and, unlike the business lobby groups, without our disappointment concealing some purely self-interested barrow we’re pushing.

I think it’s past time voters were told more about the major role the many lobby groups play in federal politics. It’s as though lobbying has become Canberra’s second-biggest industry.

The business, employer and industry lobby groups engage in three main activities. First, they lobby the government, top bureaucrats and key senators in private, without any of us noticing. They press for policy changes that would make it easier for their businesses to increase their profits, and press against policy changes that would make it harder for their businesses to increase profits.

After just about every proposal to change a government policy, Treasury or some other department opens a “consultation”, inviting interested parties to say (in private) what they think about the merits and practicality of the proposed changes.

This is when the Canberra-based lobby groups, and private firms of lobbyists (many of them former politicians or ministerial staffers from the party that happens to be in power) swing into action. Responding to these offers of private consultation with the bureaucracy is the main way they earn their living.

Their objective is always to persuade the bureaucrats to persuade the government to tone down the change, making it less restrictive and costly to the businesses they’re representing. Often their argument will be that it’s a nice idea but, unfortunately, hugely impractical. Would cost them millions to comply.

A second role of the lobby groups is to respond publicly to changes their clients don’t like with exaggerated claims about the death and destruction the changes will cause. Just about any increase in the minimum wage will lead to thousands of Australians losing their jobs, we’re told. The latest changes to industrial relations rules will “bring conflict to every workplace in every industry”.

They exaggerate to ensure their press releases are picked up by the media. Their purpose is partly to put pressure on the government (or the Fair Work Commission), but mainly to use the media to send a signal back to their fee-paying member businesses around the country: “Don’t worry, you’re getting good value for having us here in Canberra fighting tirelessly to protect your interests against the wicked government.”

The lobby groups’ third role is the one we saw last week. Once all your private lobbying has failed to deter the government from doing something your clients really hate, take the fight public.

You try to pressure the government via the voters, by cooking up an argument that the people who’ll suffer most from the changes you don’t like aren’t the shareholders and bosses of the businesses you represent, but the country’s ordinary workers and consumers.

“We’ll be forced to pass all the new tax on to our customers. So we’ll be right, but we’re really worried about what the government’s doing to our poor customers.” (In which case, why are you fighting the tax so hard?)

As for all the industrial relations changes designed to reduce the insecurity of so many workers and to give workers in smaller businesses the ability to gain some bargaining power by uniting with workers in other businesses, this won’t improve workers’ job security, pay or conditions, but will stifle investment and productivity, make Australian businesses less competitive against the sweat shops of Asia, and cause many people to be unemployed, we’re told.

Some of these arguments contain a grain of truth, but they’re attempts to use concocted, pseudo-economic arguments to con ordinary voters into believing their interests coincide with the interests of big business, and so get them to pressure the government to stop doing things that business objects to.

A big part of this con involves the use of code words that sound more innocuous than they are. “Flexible” means flexibility for the boss, but inflexibility for the worker. “Reform” means a change that benefits business at someone else’s expense. “Populism” means a change that benefits many ordinary people at business’s expense.

“Red tape” should mean excessive form-filling that serves no useful purpose. In the mouths of big-business people, however, it means laws and regulations that limit their freedom to build new mines and other projects in places that would do great damage to the natural environment.

The Albanese government’s timidity in all but industrial relations is disappointing, but I doubt it’s so hopeless it fails to ensure voters know that what big business wants for itself is contrary to their interests.

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Misbehaviour thrives in our age of capitalism without capitalists

There’s a vital lesson to be learnt from the latest episode in the saga of former chief executive Alan Joyce’s ignominious departure from Qantas last year: these days, no one’s in control of the capitalist ship.

It seems clear that, in his last years in the job, Joyce decided to give the size of his final payout priority over the maintenance of good relationships with the company’s staff and customers. He left Qantas suddenly in September last year with what was to have been a package of $23 million, including his final-year salary and bonuses.

But by then, many customers were complaining and the company’s behaviour was under investigation by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. The board decided to retain the right to claw back much of the payout, pending a review of the airline’s management.

Meanwhile, the High Court found that the company had illegally sacked 1700 ground handlers.

Last week the company announced the results of the review by Tom Saar, a former partner in management consultants McKinsey. He found that Joyce’s tenure as chief executive directly contributed to the erosion of the airline’s relationships with its regulators and customers.

He also found the board did not adequately challenge its executives and failed to acknowledge non-financial risks. The group’s management contributed to a string of failures that resulted in “considerable harm to its relationships with customers, employees and other stakeholders”.

The board decided to dock more than $9 million from Joyce’s final payout. It also decided to reduce the short-term bonuses of all current and former executives who were part of the leadership team last year. This included the new chief executive, Vanessa Hudson, who served as the group’s finance chief.

I recount all this because it’s just an extreme example of the licence chief executives enjoy because they work for companies that are owned by everyone in general and no one in particular. We know of billionaire company owners such as Rupert Murdoch, Twiggy Forrest, Gina Rinehart and Clive Palmer, but these are the exceptions.

In legal theory, the job of company boards is to represent the interests of the shareholders. In practice, as the Qantas case well demonstrates, boards defer to executives because they’re drawn from the same fraternity of managers.

It’s noteworthy that the person the board chose to review Qantas’ management was himself a member of that fraternity. Its board emphasised that his report contained “no findings of deliberate wrongdoing” but that “mistakes were made by the board and management”.

Considering the damage done to the airline’s reputation, and the abuse of its position as the dominant player in Australia’s domestic aviation, Joyce wasn’t docked as much as he could have been. And merely cutting other executives’ short-term bonuses by a third lets them off lightly.

In the phrase coined by the Australia Institute’s Dr Richard Denniss, we now live in a capitalist economy without any capitalists. This is true of all the developed economies, but it’s particularly true of Australia because of the way almost all employees are compelled to contribute 11.5 per cent, soon to be 12 per cent, of their wages to superannuation funds.

Those super savings now total more than $3.9 trillion, with about 28 per cent of that invested in listed and unlisted Australian shares, plus 27 per cent in foreign listed shares. This means those of us with superannuation account for about 38 per cent of the value of shares listed on the Australian stock exchange.

So, what say do people with super have in the running of the companies whose shares they own? Next to none.

Their super funds are run by trustees. Do members have any say in who gets to be a trustee? No. The trustees are under no obligation tell members which companies’ shares their savings are invested in.

Of course, almost all shares carry the right to vote at a company's annual general meeting. And at those meetings, shareholders do get to vote for or against the company’s proposed remuneration to executives. So, do the owners of shares via their super get the right to vote at company meetings? No, of course not.

Well, who does get that? Maybe the funds’ trustees, or maybe the managers of the “managed investment funds” in which your super fund has invested.

And do those trustees or investment managers actually vote at company meetings? Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. Who knows? Super members aren’t told.

It follows that, when they do vote, we aren’t told which way they voted. Did your shares vote for or against the big pay rises the directors and executives intend to award themselves? Did they vote for or against further investment in fossil fuel projects?

See what they mean about us living in an age of capitalism without capitalists? We live in a time when big business is run by executives, with surprisingly little to constrain their freedom of action unless they come to our attention by, like Alan Joyce, going way over the top.

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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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Don't let the political duopoly block the little guys

What could be better for democracy than taking the big money out of election campaigns? Both Victoria and NSW have made moves in this direction, but the feds have done nothing. Until now. The Albanese government’s working on plans for reform.

Last month, the parliament’s Joint Standing Committee on Electoral Matters, now chaired by Labor’s Kate Thwaites, tabled an interim report recommending sweeping reforms to the rules on donations to political parties.

Thwaites wrote that the evidence the committee heard allowed it to “develop clear goals for reform to increase transparency in election donations and curb the potentially corrupting influence of big money, to build the public’s trust in electoral and political processes, and to encourage participation in our elections”.

The committee proposes that limits (“caps”) be set on the maximum permissible donation and the maximum spending by election candidates. Caps would also apply to “third parties”, such as big organisations seeking to influence the election outcome.

The maximum donation that could be made without the donor’s identity having to be disclosed should be lowered from the present $15,200 to $1000. And the disclosure would have to be made at the time, not months later after the dust had settled.

The Labor majority report also urged a new system of increased public funding for parties and candidates in the light of the effect these changes might have in discouraging private donations.

The committee didn’t specify how the caps on donations and spending would work but left it for the government to decide.

Wow. Wouldn’t all that be an improvement? What’s not to like?

Well, I can think of a big risk. At present, the two major parties are at loggerheads, with the Coalition committee members issuing a minority report. They’re particularly – and rightly – opposed to Labor’s desire to regulate donations from big business while exempting donations from big unions.

But as I’ve written before – and will keep writing – the big political development of our time is not the continuing struggle between Labor and Liberal, but the continuing decline of the two-party system of government, as the bad behaviour of both sides turns an ever-growing proportion of voters away to the minor parties and independents.

I think it will become rare for one side to have a comfortable majority, and common to have a minority government. If so, whichever side forms government will be more dependent on winning the support of the crossbenchers – which, I hope, will make them more reformist.

My interest in this is not just that it affects the economic policies governments will be pursuing, but that economists have given much thought to the way small numbers of big firms – “oligopoly” – find ways to compete that are better for them and worse for their customers.

One thing economists know is that the two parties of a duopoly commonly settle into a carve-up of the market that makes life cosier for both of them.

Oligopolists collude – tacitly, of course, since overt collusion is illegal – to keep prices and profits high. This leaves them exposed to some new firm entering their market and taking business away from them by undercutting those excessive prices.

So oligopolists devote much attention to finding ways to raise barriers that stop interlopers entering their market. Often, this involves persuading governments to raise those barriers for them. All for the greater safety of the customer, naturally.

Do you see the parallel with the threat the teals pose to the Liberals, and the Greens pose to Labor? Except that, in the two big parties’ case, when they combine to repel intruders, they don’t have to extract a favour from the government because they are the government.

Surely, there’s some hidden solution to neuter those pesky minor parties that the two big guys could cook up?

Well, the teals, in particular, needed huge donations from badly dressed internet billionaires (and lesser mortals) to knock off so many sitting Liberal members. So maybe we can toughen up on donations in a way that wins much approval and looks even-handed without people noticing it’s disadvantaged the interlopers more than us.

If we have fewer funds from donations, but more public funding, that advantages the established parties because, although every candidate gets the same dollars per vote, the funding you have to spend in this election campaign was determined by how many votes you got last time.

Oh, you didn’t run last time? What a pity.

But that benefit is small compared with the advantages of being the incumbent. Sitting MPs and senators get better paid than most of us, but they also get electoral staff, cars, travel allowances, printing allowances and much else.

All this support is justified as helping the pollie give their constituents good service. But it’s easily diverted to helping them get re-elected. When pollies shake many hands at a school fête, are they just doing their job, or shoring up their vote? Both.

When the government comes up with its plans to reform election donations and spending, we’ll need to examine their implications carefully.

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2022: The year our trust was abused to breaking point

As the summer break draws near, many will be glad to see the back of 2022. But there’s something important to be remembered about this year before we bid it good riddance. Much more than most years, it’s reminded us of something we know, but keep forgetting: the central importance of trust – and the consternation when we discover it’s been abused.

Every aspect of our lives depends on trust. Spouses must be able to trust each other. Children need parents they can trust and, when the children become teenagers, parents need to be able to trust them. Friendships rely on mutual trust.

Trust is just as important to the smooth functioning of the economy. Bosses need to be able to trust their workers; workers need bosses they can trust. The banking system runs on trust because the banks lend out the money we deposit with them; should all the depositors demand their money back at the same time, the bank risks collapse.

Just buying stuff in a shop involves trust that you won’t be taken down. Buying stuff on the internet requires much more trust. Tradies call on our trust when they demand payment before they start the job.

Our democracy runs on trust. We trust the leaders we elect to act in our best interests, not their own. Our country’s co-operation with other countries rests on trust. Of late, our relations with China, our major trading partner, have become mutually distrustful.

The trouble with trust, however, is that it can make us susceptible. And, as Melbourne University’s Tony Ward reminds us, it can be just too tempting to the less scrupulous to take advantage of our trusting nature.

They can get away with a lot before we wake up. But when we do, there are serious repercussions. Much worse, the loss of trust – some of it warranted; much of it not - makes our lives run a lot less smoothly.

The truth is that, as a nation, we’ve slowly become less trusting of those around us. But this year is notable for events where trust – or the lack of it – was central.

It’s widely agreed that the main reason the federal Coalition government was tossed out in May was the unpopularity of Scott Morrison. The Australian National University’s Australian Election Study has found that the two most important factors influencing political leaders’ popularity are perceived honesty and trustworthiness.

Its polling showed Morrison 29 percentage points behind Anthony Albanese on honesty, and 28 points behind on trustworthiness.

By contrast, many were expecting Daniel Andrews to be punished at the recent Victorian election for the harsh measures he insisted on during the pandemic. It didn’t happen. We don’t have fancy studies to prove it, but my guess is he retained the trust of the majority of voters.

The ANU study always asks questions about trust in government. This year it found 70 per cent of respondents agreeing that “people in government look after themselves” and only 30 per cent agreeing that “people in government can be trusted to do the right thing”.

This helps explain why the federal election was no triumph for Labor. The combined primary vote for the major parties fell to 68 per cent, the lowest since the 1930s. Labor’s own election report explains this as “part of a long-term trend driven by declining trust in government, politics and politicians”.

But don’t put all the blame on the pollies. This year opened our eyes to the risk we run of the businesses we deal with allowing our identification details and other private information to be stolen by hackers and made public.

Customers of Optus, Medibank and some other firms have learnt the hard way that the businesses who demand so much identification from us can’t be trusted to keep that information secure.

It’s been a wake-up call not only for those big businesses and others, but also for the new federal government. If businesses can’t be trusted to do the right thing, they must be required to do so by tighter regulation.

Oh no, not more red tape? Yes, and that’s my point. There’s nothing that generates extra expense and slows things down more than not being able to trust the people you must deal with.

Ward reminds us of the benefits of a high level of trust. It reduces “transaction costs” – the cost of doing business. “Profits and investments are higher if you don’t have to spend lots of time and money checking whether other parties are honest or not,” he says.

“People invest more in their own education if they believe a fair system will reward their efforts. If you think the system is rigged, why bother?”

Comparing countries, economists have found strong links between more social trust and higher levels of income. Trust is one of the top determinants of long-term economic growth.

And high-trust societies, with less distrust of science, had better outcomes in tackling COVID. That’s one respect in which we didn’t do too badly this year.

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Why Albanese will bring public servants in from the cold

The election was so much about getting rid of Scott Morrison that few but the party faithful turned to Anthony Albanese with great hope and enthusiasm. He’s not the most charismatic bloke you could meet. Yet almost everything we’ve heard from him so far has been encouraging.

From his victory speech on, he’s said everything you’d want him to say. He made a promise which, to be fair, his predecessor never made and so never broke: to govern for all Australians.

Morrison was in the divide-and-conquer mould. He was the most tribal prime minister I can remember. My tribe, your tribe; us and them; good guys, bad guys; lifters and leaners.

Kevin Rudd had to be strong-armed by his colleagues to give the job of ambassador to the US to his vanquished party predecessor, Kim Beazley, a job for which he was highly qualified.

Rudd wanted to prove his magnanimity by giving it to a Liberal worthy – a gesture that John Howard, nor his protege Morrison, would never have made. To them, the spoils of office went solely to the winners.

I remember when “jobs for the boys” was considered a strictly Labor vice. Morrison has filled the Administrative Appeals Tribunal with Liberal cronies. The Libs have pretty much appointed only people from the employer side to the Fair Work Commission. The convention used to be 50/50.

Albanese said he wanted to bring Australians together. “I want Australia to continue to be a country that, no matter where you live, who you worship, who you love or what your last name is, places no restrictions on your journey in life.”

Of course, grand election-night declarations are like New Year’s resolutions: a lot easier to make than to stick to, day after day, as old habits try to reassert themselves.

As we wonder what kind of PM Albanese will make, two things are worth remembering. First, unlike the Liberals, Labor sees itself as the unnatural party of government, the boys and girls from the wrong side of the tracks.

If the Libs have a superiority complex – if they act like they own the place and can make their own rules – Labor is the opposite. As outsiders to power, they tend to be on their best behaviour in the Big House, to worry about using the right fork.

Paradoxically, they’re more likely than the Libs to stick to the conventions rather than overturn them, more likely to consult widely – the unions come back into the tent, but business stays in – and more likely to seek, and take, advice from officials.

Second, as Julia Gillard demonstrated, prime ministers from Labor’s left faction try to prove they’re not really left-wing by being surprisingly right-wing in the policies they pursue. She was fawning towards the Americans, did too little to reverse the anti-union excesses of Howard’s WorkChoices – did someone say we had a chronic problem with weak wage growth? – and her effort to lift schools’ performance by using the publication of metrics to encourage greater competition between the public and private sectors was a faddish idea that didn’t work.

But, against those two positives, remember this. Whenever a government lowers standards, its opponents always promise to restore them. Nevertheless, the two major parties are obsessed with each other and determined the other side won’t gain an advantage.

So, the moment the new government is criticised for some behaviour and replies that it’s only what the last lot did, you’ll know the game is lost.

Recent Coalition governments have seen the public service as an enemy – the voting figures show Canberra is very much a Labor town – and have progressively cut back admin costs and public service numbers. Morrison went further, telling public servants he didn’t need their advice on policy matters. Much policy expertise has been lost in consequence – as witness, the administrative fumbling of the vaccine and RATs rollouts.

On coming to office, both Howard and Tony Abbott sacked many department heads they considered had been too close to the previous Labor government. There’s little doubt this was also intended “to encourage the others”, making them fearful of losing their own jobs should they be judged as less than fully co-operative.

Nothing could be better calculated to ensure ministers are surrounded by yes-persons. It takes a wise and strong manager to see the benefit of having around them people game to say, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, boss?” when considered necessary.

Albanese has promised not to sack any public servants, and he hasn’t so far. Replacing the head of his own department is, by modern convention, an entitlement of the new prime minister.

Politicians are prone to paranoia. Labor is right to trust the public servants. In my decades of speaking to them privately on policy issues, I can’t remember when they’ve expressed to me any criticism of government policy or lack of confidence in the government of the day. To do so would be unprofessional.

Public servants aren’t omniscient. But I’d rather have a government listening to their advice than trying to wing it.

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Why the political duopoly is losing market-share

If you hadn’t noticed, economic policy and politics are closely entwined. And economic journalism is a just specialty within political journalism. But some parts of economics – agency theory and industrial organisation, for instance – are surprisingly useful in understanding how politics works.

The big surprises in this election weren’t the election of Labor, but the steep decline in the two major parties’ share of the primary vote, and the emergence of climate action as the big vote-shifting issue, even though it got little attention in the campaign, especially compared with the focus on the cost of living.

Some decades ago, the two big parties’ share of the primary vote was 90 per cent. By the last election, the non-mainstream vote had risen to a quarter. But this time it jumped to a third, leaving the big guys sharing roughly a third each.

Despite its win, Labor’s third was its lowest since the 1930s, and amazingly low for the winning party. Though the Coalition’s share was bigger than Labor’s, it fell far more this time.

Why are fewer and fewer people prepared to vote for either of the two majors? Why is the two-party system in decline? The economists’ basic neoclassical model of markets assumes intense price competition between a large number of small firms.

In real life, many markets are characterised by “oligopoly” – they’re dominated by a small number of large firms. Many decades of firms pursuing economies of scale do a lot to explain why we see so many oligopolistic markets.

In the sub-discipline of “industrial organisation”, economists seek to explain why oligopolistic markets differ from that basic model of “perfect competition”. They’ve found that the few big firms are not so much competitors as rivals. Their huge size gives each of them “market power” – more control over the prices they’re able to charge – but they watch each other like hawks, and never make a move without considering what the other big firms might do in reaction to their move.

They live in fear of losing market-share. With only two huge firms – a duopoly – the rivalry is that much more intense.

Few people realise that, though our political duopolists paint themselves as poles apart ideologically, the main thing that influences the choices they make is what the other side’s doing. Governments are constrained by oppositions; oppositions are constrained by governments.

See what this does? It makes the rival parties more alike. When I see you behaving badly but getting away with it, I decide I’ll do the same. And if you’re not sticking your neck out on climate action, I decide I’d better not risk it either.

That’s why so many people complain the parties are “all the same”. An economist called Harold Hotelling formulated a rule that two firms serving an area – ice cream sellers on a beach, for instance – will tend to gravitate to the same central location. Why? Because they want to reduce the chance of the other side getting a bigger share of the market than they do.

This, of course, reduces the choice available to customers. So, does it surprise you that, as the two sides of politics become more similar – as they crowd around the political centre – more people set up fringe parties, and more people vote for them?

For many years, the Liberals used climate change as a stick to beat Labor over the head, making Labor more cautious in what it proposed. For years that’s mean Labor’s lost many first-preference votes to the Greens. But this time the Libs lost votes to the teal independents in Sydney, Melbourne and Perth, and both sides lost votes to the Greens in Brisbane.

Yet, just as commercial firms have become bigger over the decades, so politicians and their parties have changed. Economies of scale are one reason for fewer, bigger firms, but another technique we’ve used to get richer is “specialisation and exchange”. The more we specialise, the more efficient we get at doing whatever it is we do.

By now, we have specialties within specialties. We have experts who know more and more about less and less. Politics used to be a game for amateurs. People who’d done well in their careers, switched to politics to “give something back”.

These days, politics has become more professionalised, more a lifetime career where, upon graduating, you start at the bottom as a research assistant for a union or a minister, and work your way up, becoming an MP, then a minister, then who knows?

The more professional politicians become, the more they focus on advancing in the political game, and less on the things they got into politics to fix. They used to have to guess at what the voters wanted; now the majors spend a fortune on polling and focus groups. They’re more inclined to give the voters what they now know they want, and tell them what they know they want to hear.

Voters have shown less loyalty to a particular party the more they suspect the pollies are advancing their own cause, not the public’s. The minor parties and independents are more like the amateur politicians of old: they turned to politics after a career elsewhere and they did so because they cared about a few particular issues. A growing number of voters find these issue-driven politicians more attractive.

The main political parties have changed, too. They used to be grassroots, bottom-up movements with many members. Now, they have few members and those they retain tend to be a lot more hard-line than the people who just vote for the party.

With the professionalisation of politics, the two majors have become more top-down. Just as the interests of executives don’t always align with those of their shareholders and supposed masters, so it is with political parties. Economists see this as a principal-and-agent problem.

The two majors have become more like franchise operations. All the big decisions are made at the centre by the professional managers, leaving the franchisees to just flog the product. These days, the party’s policies are made at the top, with party members getting little say.

In the old days, the branches’ main right and function was to preselect the candidates who would represent them in parliament. They tend to favour candidates who are well-known and well-liked in the district – maybe a former mayor – who’ll work hard attending school fetes and advancing the electorate’s interests.

As we’ve seen in this election, leaders and people at the centre increasingly insist on parachuting in someone with a higher profile and greater leadership potential. The party faithful increasing resent this.

The people at the top must wonder why they still need branches at all. Short answer: they still need enough volunteers to door-knock and man the booths on election day.

We saw that Labor’s attempt to foist Kristina Keneally on some electorate cost it the seat. In the Liberals’ leafy heartland, I suspect the locals’ thought that they might see a lot more of an independent member contributed significantly to the teals’ success.

It’s not at all clear the teals will be one-term wonders. And it maybe the days of either major party ruling with a comfortable parliamentary majority are gone.

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Smaller Government turns out to be penny wise, pound foolish

Our problems responding to the pandemic are just the latest, most acute demonstration of the failure of the decades-long pursuit of Smaller Government. It was intended to leave us better off by rooting out waste and inefficiency, so we’d get government services of unchanged – maybe better – quality at less cost to taxpayers.

You’d have to say the project has limited the rise in government spending – after allowing for inflation and population growth – despite politicians on both sides being willing to increase the services provided. The Libs on defence and security; Labor on the Gonski school education funding reforms and the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

There’s little reason to believe we’ve seen much improvement in the efficiency with which government services have been delivered. Rather, there are numerous examples of reductions in the quality of services and a decline in the policy capability of public service – evident in the need to bring in military generals and the small fortune being spent on management consultants from the big four accounting firms.

This failure isn’t surprising when you remember the Smaller Government project is based on prejudice rather than evidence – the public sector is always inefficient; the private sector is always efficient – and on using the crudest measures to achieve greater efficiency.

For economists, the private good/public bad mentality is implicit in the neo-classical model of how the economy works. For business people and politicians, it comes from tribalism: the private good guys versus the public bad guys.

The Smaller Government push has been hijacked by conservative politicians wanting to transfer taxpayers’ money, workers and (they hope) votes from the public Labor column to the private Liberal column.

To the nation’s business people, privatisation spells access to the state’s monopoly pricing powers. Outsourcing gives them easier access to the vast profit-making opportunities of that Aladdin’s cave that is the government’s coffers.

Leaving aside this hijacking of the Smaller Government push for PPP – party-political purposes – it’s done more harm than good for two reasons: because of the failure to think through the objects of the exercise and because of the crude methods used to limit government spending.

One reason government spending has continued to grow is that governments have continued to promise voters new and better services. This is no bad thing, and is inevitable as we get richer and our wants shift from more goods (which are usually best produced by the private sector) to more services, many of which – such as education and healthcare, childcare, disability care and aged care – are better funded (and often, provided) by the public sector.

Once you accept that, in terms of government spending, literally Smaller Government is never going to happen, you realise the object of the exercise should be not smaller government, but better government: government that achieves its objectives efficiently and effectively. Government that gives value for money.

A big part of the problem is that, within the bureaucracy, the Smaller Government push has been led by the accountants in the Finance Department, with little thought applied by the economists in Treasury.

Lacking an appreciation of the broader economic issues involved in government budgeting, Finance has taken a Good Housekeeping approach: a tidy budget is a balanced budget. It’s been a short-sighted, budget-to-budget affair: “next month’s budget’s deficit is looking on the high side, so what quick cuts can we make to stop it looking so bad?”

This mentality is what breeds the crudeness of the measures used to limit spending – notably, the annual “efficiency dividend”, which each year imposes an arbitrary, top-down percentage cut in the total administrative costs of a department or agency. “We have no idea where the waste is, but there must be plenty of it, so you find it.”

After a couple of decades of saying “there must be plenty of waste” every year, the waste is long gone. Departments are left to find their own cuts, and what they cut is anything that won’t bring howls of protest from the lobbyists representing the powerful industries the department is supposed to be regulating in the public interest.

You end up cutting things where the true cost won’t be apparent until sometime in the future – such as the people doing the department’s policy development, the preparations you’re making for a pandemic that may never happen, and anything that involves cost now in return for cost-savings later.

This, however, is just the opposite to what you should be doing to make government better – more cost-effective. You should be seeking out, initiating and protecting spending that’s an investment in future cost-saving.

What we’ve ended up with isn’t Smaller Government, it’s just penny-pinching. It’s being penny wise and pound foolish.

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Smaller Government push explains much of our pandemic fumbling

It’s right for our elected leaders to be held responsible for the failures that have led to the loss of lives and livelihoods in our struggle against the coronavirus. But let’s not fail to see the systemic failures that have led our governments – federal and state; Liberal and Labor – to fall short.

If you’re not looking for it – or don’t want to find it – it’s easy to overlook the inconvenient truth that decades of pursuit of Smaller Government have contributed greatly to the difficulty we’ve had controlling the spread of the virus and hastening the rollout of the vaccine.

Earlier this month, two economics professors, Steven Hamilton and Richard Holden, used two articles in the Australian Financial Review to lay much of the blame for delay in the rollout and in rapid COVID testing at the feet of the “medical regulatory complex”.

They criticised our TGA - Therapeutic Goods Administration – for being “persistently behind the curve – lagging months behind foreign regulators” in approving the various vaccines. The medicos should hardly need economists to remind them of the point they themselves dinned into the rest of us: the spread of pandemics is exponential, so a delay of just six weeks really matters.

So, if medical bureaucracies overseas can approve new drugs with expedition, why can’t we? And they can approve in-home rapid tests, but we can’t?

Because our standards are so much higher than theirs? Doubt it. More likely because we weren’t trying hard enough. Maybe the TGA was short-staffed or the government hadn’t approved enough overtime. As for the reservations about rapid testing, you wonder if it wasn’t a case of doctors trying to make work for doctors, not nurses or pharmacists.

Then there was all the chopping and changing over who should get the AstraZenica vaccine by ATAGI – the Australian Technical Advisory Group. It was narrow, inappropriate advice that failed to take account all the relevant considerations and did much damage to the rollout.

Maybe the government asked the wrong bunch of specialists, or gave them the wrong terms of reference. I’ve seen it suggested that a more appropriate committee had been abolished in cost-cutting by the Abbott government.

The Morrison government’s delay in acquiring sufficient vaccines seems to have arisen from a desire to limit the cost of the exercise, combined with an ill-fated preference for having the vaccine manufactured locally.

Much of our difficulty preventing leakages from hotel quarantine has arisen from cost saving: using ill-suited empty hotels would be much cheaper than purpose-building out-of-town cabin-style facilities, especially when you remember we won’t get another pandemic for decades. Maybe.

Similarly, outsourcing quarantine security to private contractors using casual, low-paid and untrained workers, who probably work at several facilities to make ends meet, saves money. The same way we use outsourcing to cut the cost (and quality) of so many public services these days.

At state level, stockpiles of personal protective equipment recommended by a committee charged with getting us ready for a pandemic were cut as a cost-cutting measure.

Wherever responsibility is shared between federal and state – which is most areas - you get cost-cutting, cost-shifting, game-playing and duck-shoving. The feds had huge success at shifting the blame for Victoria’s second lockdown to Dictator Dan, even though the great majority of deaths occurred in federally regulated aged-care homes.

As the royal commission found, the unending string of scandals in aged care arises from decades of trying to hold down the cost of care to the federal government. Knowing they’re not spending enough to fund decent care, the feds don’t dare to properly regulate the sector’s mainly for-profit providers.

But, since businesses are entitled to a reasonable return on their capital, turning the sector over to private providers adds another layer of cost. There’s little reason to hope their profit margins are covered by their greater efficiency in running institutions. They make room for their profit by cutting other costs.

Cost cutting is just one aspect in which the Smaller Government push has hindered our efforts to respond to the pandemic. Another is the longstanding rundown in the capability of the public service, especially its ability to give policy advice.

Who needs advice from public servants when, if the minister doesn’t know what to do, the politically ambitious young punks in the minister’s office will have plenty of ideas? Failing that, you can always commission a report from one of the big four accounting firms which, you can be sure, will tell you only what you want to hear. I doubt the health departments are immune from these weaknesses.

Of course, our pandemic problems are just the latest, most acute demonstration of the failure of the Smaller Government project, but that wider story’s a topic for another day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Our leaders would do better if their followers were thinking harder

Much has been said about the failures of Scott Morrison, Daniel Andrews and Gladys Berejiklian in our never-ending struggle to keep on top of the coronavirus. But just this once, let’s shift the spotlight from our fallible leaders to the performance of those they lead. I think we ourselves could be doing a better job of it.

There is, after all, much truth in the saying that we get the politicians we deserve. When we think we’re entitled to have good government served up to us on a plate, we’ve lost sight of the truth that well-functioning democracies require diligent citizens, not just honest and smart politicians.

Perhaps our biggest complaint has been that our leaders and experts keep changing their tune. Why can’t we be told simply and clearly what’s required of us? Why can’t the pollies decide what they want and stick to it?

It’s as though they’re making it up as they go along, chopping and changing when they realise they’ve taken another wrong turn. Hopeless.

Let me tell you the shocking truth: they are making it up. But if you were thinking harder you’d realise that’s all they can do. As Morrison rightly says, a new virus doesn’t come with an instruction manual.

Our political leaders are relying heavily on epidemiologists and other medical experts because pollies have so little knowledge and experience of pandemics. The medicos know a lot about viruses, epidemics, vaccination and immunology, but at the start they knew little about the characteristics of this particular virus.

They were forced to make assumptions about those characteristics but, as they’ve realised those assumptions were wrong, they’ve changed them.

At the start they thought the virus was spread in big droplets landing on surfaces within one or two metres, whereas now they think it’s more like smoke. Without strong ventilation, it builds up in the air. This explains much of the early uncertainty about whether masks were a good idea.

The medicos have relied on the findings of the limited studies available, but when bigger and better studies have come along with different findings, they’ve updated their views.

As I don’t think Keynes actually said, “When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do, sir?” Or, as he did say, “It is better to be roughly right than precisely wrong.”

Those people carrying on about how confusing it all is and how incompetent our leaders are reveal their own intellectual laziness: their reluctance to think through complex, nuanced, ever-changing problems when they’d prefer to be back watching carefully choreographed “reality” television. And their ignorance of how science works, slowly groping towards an ever-changing best guess at the truth.

The media’s new-found interest in public health means formerly obscure academics have become TV stars and any boffin who disagrees with what the government’s doing about X gets an op-ed article to air their dissent.

You could say this is adding to the confusion, but it’s science proceeding the way science does. It’s academics doing what academics do – eternally arguing among themselves.

It’s tempting to tell them “not in front of the children”, but when you remember how lacking our leaders are in competence, openness and accountability, the last thing our democracy needs is for experts to keep their critique of government policies to themselves.

You might have thought that a bunch of media-innocent scientists and a news media devoted to highlighting the exceptional over the typical, seeking out controversy and not always untempted by the sensational, would make an explosive combination.

But for the most part, the media have been on their best behaviour, favouring their audience’s need for accurate, trustworthy information. That brings us to the Australian Technical Advisory Group on Immunisation, and its ever-changing recommendation on who should be receiving the AstraZeneca vaccine now it’s been found to carry a very rare risk of blood clotting.

The advice has changed partly because circumstances have changed, but mainly because the original advice led to considerable vaccine hesitancy at a time when the vaccine rollout is way behind, we have Greater Sydney in lockdown and loads of AstraZeneca is going begging while little of the alternative Pfizer vaccine is available.

The advisory group has been criticised, but I think it was a narrowly constituted group, which gave narrow advice when what the government needed – and should have sought from elsewhere – was advice taking account of a broader range of factors.

The public’s huge reaction against the vaccine is unwarranted and unfortunate at such a time. AstraZeneca is less risky than taking aspirin. But when the media gave such attention to the clotting risk, the overreaction wasn’t surprising.

Responsible reporters can say “very rare” as many times as they like but, as our science reporter Liam Mannix has explained, humans are notoriously bad at giving minuscule probabilities the weight they deserve.

The saver may be that, as highly social animals, when people see so many of their friends lining up to “bare their arms”, their hesitancy may evaporate. It’s a strange, messy world we live in.

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The real reason we’ve hit policy gridlock: fear of public opinion

You don’t have to agree we owe big business a living to know that our public policies are far from perfect and that every government’s job is to beaver away at improving them. Nor to know recent governments have tired of doing that. We each have our theories on why this has happened, but now someone sensible has analysed the reasons policy reform has ground to a halt.

John Daley, the man who spent the past decade building our leading non-aligned think tank, the Grattan Institute, having handed its leadership over to Danielle Wood, has just released his last report, Gridlock: Removing barriers to policy reform. It’s his magnum opus, worthy of study by everyone who thinks they know a bit about how modern Australia ticks.

Daley defines “reform” as “changes to policy that would improve the lives of Australians” (as opposed to improving the careers of our top business people).

He starts by demonstrating that the pace of reform really has slowed, and isn’t just old-timers remembering the glory days of Hawke, Keating and Howard and complaining about “the young people of today”. He dismisses the excuse that “you can’t float the dollar twice”, noting “there are plenty of other good policy ideas that governments have failed to adopt”.

Daley examines the fate of the many policy recommendations in the regular reports of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development, but focuses on the success or failure of the 73 proposals made in Grattan’s reports over the decade to 2019, covering budgets, tax and welfare, retirement incomes, housing, transport and cities, health, energy (aka climate change) and education.

He finds that, of the 73 reforms, about a third were substantially implemented and two-thirds weren’t adopted. He identifies seven main potential blockages to good ideas going ahead: popular opinion, partisan shibboleths, vested interests, a weak evidence base, budgetary costs, upper house obstruction and federal-state disagreement.

By “partisan shibboleths” he means policy views that are contrary to the weight of policy evidence, but are almost universally held within a political party or party faction, while much less widely accepted in other circles.

“One of the functions of shibboleths is that they mark membership of a group – a ‘tribe’. A belief is likely to be more effective as a marker of membership when it is not rational – otherwise the belief would be shared by many people who are not part of the tribe,” he says.

It will surprise many that, by Daley’s reckoning, the biggest blocker by far is popular opinion, not opposition from vested interests or party shibboleths.

Of the 23 Grattan reforms that were substantially implemented, none was unpopular, and none was opposed by powerful vested interests without that opposition being countered by substantial independent evidence from government reports and the like.

Only one of the successful proposals ran counter to a party shibboleth, and only one involved a big budget outlay.

By contrast, the most common blockage among the 50 proposals that weren’t adopted was that they were unpopular with the electorate. That accounted for 15 of them.

After that came 10 blocked by party shibboleths (although three of these were also unpopular). Six of the remainder were actively opposed by powerful vested interests not countered by strong independent evidence. Three more were blocked because the evidence for them was poor or contradictory, and five were blocked because they involved large budgetary costs exceeding $2 billion a year.

As for the other potential causes of blockage, in only two cases could their rejection be attributed mainly to a failure to pass the Senate. Federal-state disagreement was a significant issue in only six of the proposed reforms that weren’t adopted, and all of them were probably blocked for other reasons.

It’s hardly surprising that popular opinion is a powerful force in a democracy. But this is worth remembering when we’re tempted to think that the power of vested interests and politicians’ corruptibility are the reasons governments don’t make the changes we think they should. Maybe they don’t because not enough people agree with us.

Daley finds that whereas, over the past decade – but not necessarily during the preceding “golden age of reform” – public opposition invariably doomed a reform proposal, popular support is no guarantee a policy will be adopted. However, it certainly improves the chances.

Where the immediate effect of a reform is to reduce taxes or prices for consumers, it’s likely to be popular. And public opinion has a tendency to focus on immediate effects rather than on promised longer-term benefits.

But liberal democracies have always been a delicate balance between popularly elected rulers and a whole series of institutions – ranging from the courts and central banks to expert administrators of everything from water allocation to child protection – designed to temper popular views.

People tend to trust these experts much more than politicians. And it’s long been accepted that the primary duty of elected representatives is to govern according to their judgment of what's in the interests of their electors, rather than simply following the opinion of their electors, Daley says.

Our not too distant past holds plenty of examples of governments pressing on with controversial policies, confident in the belief that public opinion can change once people experience the reality of a policy change they didn’t like the sound of.

When they do so, they end up winning a lot of respect – something they so obviously lack at present. “So it is surprising that unpopularity has become an automatic strike-out for policy reforms,” Daley says.

He concludes that, “in general, Australian governments today seem less willing to take on public opinion.” How have Australia’s institutions changed to make public opinion so much more decisive?

And what can we do to improve things? Good questions – for another day.

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Why people can be much nicer than economists assume

There’s a lot you can learn about the world of work – and human nature in general – from studying economics. Then again, there’s a lot you can’t learn from conventional economics – and, indeed, from the bum steers it can give you.

Consider this. The 18th century Scottish philosopher Adam Smith is said to be the father of economics. He wrote two monumental books, the second of which, The Wealth of Nations, contained the famous observation that “it is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own self-interest”.

The worthies who developed conventional economics – and its “neo-classical” model of how markets work, the main thing taught in economics courses – seized on this idea to describe an economy populated by profit-maximising firms and self-interested consumers, all of them competing with each other to get the best deal.

They developed Smith’s reference to the “invisible hand” of competition in markets to show how this self-interest on all sides miraculously ends up satisfying everyone’s wants. Hence modern economists’ eternal banging on about the benefits of competition.

But Smith’s first book, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, said something quite different: “How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, thought he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it”.

So what’s it to be? Are we totally self-interested, or do we care about the wellbeing of others? Are we individuals competing against each other for the biggest bit, or are we caring souls who co-operate with others to ensure everyone gets looked after?

Short answer: we’re both. But study conventional economics and you’re told only about the selfish, individualistic, competitive side of our nature. The moral, collective, co-operative side is assumed away. Government is seen not as a force for good, but as an alien force whose intervention in the market risks stuffing things up.

If you wonder why so many of the predictions economists make prove astray, that’s part of the reason. But some years back, two American economists associated with the Santa Fe Institute in New Mexico, Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis, wrote A Cooperative Species, to try to balance the story.

In the process, they provide a more convincing explanation of why humans have become the dominant species on Earth – for good and ill.

They focus on the way humans co-operate with each other in many circumstances – including when hundreds of us work for a single business, which competes with other big businesses - and argue that we co-operate not only for self-interested reasons, but also because we are genuinely concerned about the wellbeing of others.

We try to uphold “social norms” of acceptable behaviour, and value behaving ethically for its own sake. For the same reasons, we punish those who exploit the co-operative behaviour of others.

“Contributing to the success of a joint project for the benefit of [your] group, even at a personal cost, evokes feelings of satisfaction, pride, even elation,” they say. “Failing to do so is often a source of shame or guilt.”

We came to have these “moral sentiments,” in Smith’s words, because our ancestors lived in environments, both natural and as constructed by humans, in which groups of individuals who were predisposed to co-operate and uphold ethical norms tended to survive and expand relative to other groups, thereby allowing these “pro-social” motivations to proliferate.

So they explain our motivations for caring about the wellbeing of others: we do it because it makes us feel good. But they also explain the distant evolutionary origins of our disposition to co-operate and its perpetuation to the present day.

Co-operation – engaging with others in a mutually beneficial activity - was part of the behaviour of homo sapiens when we were still living on the African savannah. We formed bands to make us more successful in hunting big animals.

But though co-operation is common in many species, human co-operation is exceptional in that it extends beyond our close relatives – whom we look after in obedience to our evolutionary urge to replicate our species – to include even total strangers. And we co-operate on a much larger scale than other species except the social insects, such as ants and bees.

We co-operate in political and military objectives as well as more prosaic everyday activities: collaboration among the employees in a firm, exchanges between buyers and sellers, and the maintenance of local amenities among neighbours.

So, though they don’t see it in these terms, economists focus on a form of co-operation that involves “reciprocal altruism”. Buyers benefit sellers; sellers benefit buyers.

But human co-operation goes much further, in that it takes place in much larger groups and in circumstances that are unlikely to be repeated. Why do people tip while passing through a country town? In my own town I have reason to care about my reputation. But if I’m in your town, why does it not occur to me to cheat you in some way?

Much experimental and other evidence shows that people gain pleasure from co-operating, or feel morally obliged to. On the other hand, people enjoy punishing those who exploit the co-operation of others, or feel morally obligated to do so.

“Free-riders,” as economists call them, frequently feel guilty and, if they are sanctioned by others, they may feel ashamed.

We may have started out co-operating to hunt wild animals and mind other people’s children, but today we co-operate to enjoy the benefits of “the division of labour” (we each specialise in something we’re good at), of market exchange and the pursuit of economies of scale (in irrigation, factories, information networks) and even warfare.

And we made all this work better by inventing governments capable of enforcing the rights to property and providing incentives for the self-interested to contribute to common projects.

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Smaller Government is dogging our efforts to beat the pandemic

It surprises me that, though the nation’s been watching anxiously for more than a year as our politicians struggle with the repeated failures of hotel quarantine and the consequent lockdowns, big and small, and now the delay in rolling out the vaccine, so few of us have managed to join the dots.

Some have been tempted to explain it in terms of Labor getting it wrong and the Libs getting it right – or vice versa – but that doesn’t work. Nor does thinking the states always get it right and the feds get it wrong – or vice versa.

The media love conflict, so we’ve been given an overdose of Labor versus Liberal and premiers versus Morrison & Co. But though we can use this to gratify our tribal allegiances, it doesn’t explain why both parties and both levels of government have had their failures.

No, to me what stands out as the underlying cause of our difficulties – apart from human fallibility – is the way both sides of politics at both levels of government have spent the past few decades following the fashion for Smaller Government.

Both sides of politics have been pursuing the quest for smaller government ever since we let Ronald Reagan convince us that “government is not the solution to our problems; government is the problem”.

The smaller government project has had much success. We’ve privatised almost every formerly federal and state government-owned business. We’ve also managed to “outsource” the delivery of many government services formerly performed by public sector workers.

But the smaller government project has been less successful in reducing government spending. The best the pollies have done is contain the growth in spending by unceasing behind-the-scenes penny-pinching.

And here’s the thing: pandemics and smaller government are a bad fit.

The urgent threat to life and limb presented by a pandemic isn’t something you can leave market forces to fix. The response must come from government, using all the powers we have conferred on it – to lead, spend vast sums and, if necessary, compel our co-operation.

In a pandemic, governments aren’t the problem, they’re the answer. Pretty much the only answer. Only governments can close borders, insist people go into quarantine, order businesses to close and specify the limited circumstances in which we may leave our homes.

Only governments can afford to mobilise the health system, massively assist businesses and workers to keep alive while the economy’s in lockdown, pay for mass testing and tracing, and flash so much money that the world’s drug companies do what seemed impossible and come up with several safe and effective vaccines in just months.

But when you examine the glitches – the repeated failures of hotel quarantine, the need for more lockdowns, the delay in stopping community spread, and now the slowness of the rollout of vaccines – what you see is governments, federal and state, with a now deeply entrenched culture of doing everything on the cheap, of sacrificing quality, not quite able to rise to the occasion.

As we’ve learnt, a pandemic demands quick and effective action. But when you’ve spent years running down the capabilities of the public service – telling bureaucrats you don’t need their advice on policy, just their obedience – quick and effective is what you don’t get.

The feds have lost what little capacity they ever had to deliver programs on the ground. They have primary responsibility for quarantine and vaccination, but must rely on the states for execution. Then, since both sides are obsessed by cost-cutting, they argue about who’ll pay – and end up not spending enough to do the job properly.

It took the feds far too long to realise that hotel quarantine was cheap but leaky. Every leak had the states closing borders against each other. The feds didn’t spend enough securing supplies of vaccines, then took too long to realise a rapid rollout wasn’t possible without help from the states.

Without thinking, Victoria initially staffed its hotel quarantine the usual way, with untrained, low-paid casual staff. It had run down its contact-tracing capacity and took too long to build it up – still without a decent QR code app. NSW let a host of infected people get off a cruise ship and spread the virus all over Australia.

The report of the royal commission laid much of blame for the aged care scandals on the feds’ efforts to limit their spending on aged care. They couldn’t demand providers meet decent standards because they weren’t paying enough to make decent standards possible.

One of the main ways providers make do is by employing too few, unskilled, casual, part-time staff, who often need to do shifts at multiple sites. Do you think this has no connection with the sad truth that the great majority of deaths during Victoria’s second lockdown occurred in aged care?

And now we discover the feds have failed to get the vaccine rollout well advanced even to aged care residents and staff.

Spend enough time denigrating and minimising government and you discover it isn’t working properly when you really need it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I fear the Salvos are right.

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The economy doesn’t work well without good public servants

You’d hope that one of the big things Scott Morrison learnt in 2020 was to have more respect and trust in his public servants. After all, they must get much of the credit for helping him – and the premiers – respond to the pandemic far more successfully than most other rich countries. What Morrison did right was take their advice.

Morrison began his time as Prime Minister by making his disrespect and distrust of public servants crystal clear. He was blunt in telling them he didn’t need their advice on policy matters, just their full cooperation in faithfully implementing the decisions he and the Cabinet made.

The Coalition has continued its Labor predecessor’s practice of imposing annual “efficiency dividends” – fixed percentage cuts in the money allocated to pay public servants’ wages and admin costs – which by now amount to annual rounds of redundancies, with those more senior public servants with policy experience being the ones most likely to get the heave-ho.

This has robbed the public service – and its political masters – of much benefit from its institutional memory of what works and what doesn’t. The government prefers to get its advice from the young people with political ambitions employed to help in ministers’ offices.

These young punks act as intermediaries between the minister and his department. Their great attraction is their loyalty to the party. They tend to be a lot stronger on political tactics than policy detail.

In a quite wasteful way, when the government has felt the need for advice on tricky policy matters it now pays top dollar for a report from one of the big four accounting firms busy turning themselves into management consultants (which is more lucrative).

Where does a bunch of auditors and tax agents find the expertise to advise on quite specialised issues of public policy? They hire – at much higher salaries - some of the redundant public servants who know all there is to know on particular topics.

Despite the expense to taxpayers, one reason the government likes to pay outsiders for advice is that, like all profit-making businesses, the consultants make sure they tell their paying customers what they want to hear, not necessarily what they need to be told.

By now, most big businesses have learnt it’s smarter to keep their core functions and expertise in-house, but the Liberals prefer to pay outsiders because they neither trust public servants nor like them. They don’t like them because they see them as members of the Labor “public” tribe, not their own Liberal “private” tribe. Private good; public bad.

The Libs don’t trust public servants for same reason: how could supporters of their rival tribe give them honest, helpful advice? Plus a bit of paranoia. Whenever Labor’s in office, the Libs sit fuming in opposition, watching the public servants working hard to help the government pursue its policy preferences and keep it out of trouble, and conclude the shiny-bums are doing it because of their partisan sympathies.

The Libs’ paranoid tribalism blinds them to the plain truth that the public service takes professional pride in wholeheartedly supporting the government of the day, while suppressing their personal political preferences.

In recent times, much of the Libs’ hostility towards public servants stems from John Howard. It was Howard – aped by Tony Abbott – who instituted the practice of beginning their term in office by sacking a bunch of department heads considered to be Labor-sympathisers (or in Abbott’s case, to be so hopeless they actually believed all that Labor bulldust about climate change).

This was retaliation, but also a knowing attempt to “encourage the others”. And it’s worked well in discouraging senior bureaucrats from giving ministers advice they don’t want to hear. But in a leader, surrounding yourself with yes-persons is a sign of weakness. If such a minister stuffs up, don’t be surprised.

You couldn’t have picked a crisis more likely to bust the Libs out of their I-don’t-need-any-advice hang-up than the pandemic. There’s no recent precedent and it’s full of technicalities. Anyway, who thinks they’re smart enough to tell a doctor they’re wrong?

By contrast, every Liberal pollie thinks they know at least as much, and probably more, about the economy as any economist. Economics is much more mixed up with politics than are the principles of human health.

But get this: Morrison wouldn’t have dared to accept the medicos’ advice to lock down the economy without Treasury’s assurance that it could throw together the measures – particularly JobKeeper and the JobSeeker supplement – that would hold most of the show together until the economy could be unlocked. As has happened. Treasury is back in the good books.

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Economies malfunction when we can't trust our leaders

With the federal, NSW and Victorian governments all mired in questionable conduct but refusing to accept responsibility for their actions, a reminder of the value of ethical behaviour to the good governance of the nation is timely.

A report, The Ethical Advantage, by John O’Mahony, of Deloitte Access Economics, and commissioned by Dr Simon Longstaff’s Ethics Centre, reminds us that while ethical behaviour and trust are different things, a long record of ethical behaviour builds trust, which can be quickly destroyed by unethical behaviour.

To be successful, business leaders need the trust of their customers, employees and suppliers. The less people trust them, the harder they must work – and the more they must spend on marketing and security – to remain profitable.

It’s true you can go for a fair while abusing the trust of others, but when eventually they wake up, they tend to be pretty dirty about it. For years our banks took advantage of their customers’ trusting inattention by, for instance, failing to advise loyal customers of the better deals they were offering new customers. Now they wonder why their customers hate and distrust them.

Years of declining standards of behaviour on both sides of politics, and refusal to accept responsibility when things go wrong, have led to declining levels of trust in our politicians, and lowering respect for our leaders.

The imminent threat posed by the pandemic prompted our federal and state leaders to stop bickering and pull together, with oppositions anxious to be co-operative. The result was a marked increase in public confidence in the Prime Minister and premiers – a bonus Queensland’s Annastacia Palaszczuk banked on Saturday.

But no sooner had the threat eased – but not passed – than we were back to politics as usual. Our leaders don’t lead, they try to score points off their opponents. Great way to kill their newfound popularity.

Unsurprisingly, the report finds that there remains significant scope for us to raise our levels of ethical behaviour and trust. The Governance Institute of Australia’s ethics index, based on an annual survey of Australians’ perceptions of the level of ethical behaviour in society, gave us a “somewhat ethical” score of plus 37 on a scale of minus 100 to plus 100.

This was for last year, before the pandemic, and down from plus 41 in 2017. Across industries, healthcare was seen as the most ethical, with a score of plus 67. Then came education, charities and not-for-profits, and agriculture. Banking, finance and insurance was seen as the least ethical industry, with a score of minus 18.

According to the 2020 Edelman Trust Barometer, just 47 per cent of Australians trust business, government, media and our non-government organisations to do the right thing. Worse, none was seen as strongly competent or ethical – with government being seen as the least competent and ethical out of all our institutions.

Remembering the “steady stream of state and federal political scandals”, the report says, this weak ethical performance is no surprise. Royal commissions have uncovered unconscionable behaviour in religious and other institutions, widespread misconduct in the banking, superannuation and financial services industry, and alarming lapses in aged care quality and safety.

Behaving ethically requires us think a lot about what’s right and wrong in the things we do, the way we treat people and the choices we make. For some action to be legal doesn’t make it ethical. Grant Hehir, Commonwealth Auditor General, says “we care not only about whether an entity is following the legal rules, but also whether it is acting within the intent of the law and community expectations”.

Nor is an action ethical because “it’s what everyone does”. Professor Ian Harper, of Melbourne University Business School, says “we all have values and moral convictions – ethics is about having the courage to apply these in the real world”.

The report says that, apart from the pandemic, we’re facing big challenges to our future, including from climate change, an increasingly risky geo-political environment, new technology and the future of work, and reconciliation with Indigenous Australians.

The actions needed to cope with these challenges “will require leadership of a quality that enables society to cohere in the face of external and internal pressures that would otherwise cause divisions.

“In these circumstances, trust will be at a premium – especially for key institutions. In turn, this will depend on the quality of ethical decision-making by individuals, groups and organisations,” the report concludes.

When the unethical behaviour of business and politicians causes them to lose the public’s trust, governments lose the ability to make tough “reforms”. As the pandemic demonstrates, only when politicians can clearly be seen as acting in the whole public’s best interests will they be safe at the polls.

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