There are many ways to stuff up productivity

A good New Year’s resolution for readers of the business pages would be to read more widely and think more broadly, so their thinking about economic problems and their solutions doesn’t get into a rut, returning repeatedly to the same old solutions to the same problems.

No reader of these pages needs to be told that the key to higher material living standards is improved productivity – the ability to create more outputs from the same quantity of inputs of land (raw materials), labour and physical and intangible capital.

Almost continuous productivity improvement over the past two centuries is the outstanding achievement of capitalist, market economies, the proof of capitalism’s superiority as a system of organising production and consumption.

It’s what’s made us so much more prosperous than our forebears were, with much of that prosperity spilling over from the owners of capital to the middle class and people near the bottom.

But, as I’m sure you know, over the past decade or so the rate of productivity improvement in Australia and all advanced economies has slowed to a snail’s pace. Hence, all the talk about productivity and what we can do improve its rate of improvement.

So far, a decade of hand-wringing hasn’t got us anywhere. We need to think more broadly about the problem.

One new thought is to wonder if there is – or should be – more to the good life than economic growth and a higher material standard of living. If there are ways we could improve the quality of our lives even if they didn’t lead to us owning more and better toys.

A negative way to express the same thought is to wonder if being able to afford better houses and cars will be much consolation if we succeed in stuffing up our climate, with more heat waves, rainy summers, droughts, bushfires, floods, cyclones and a rising sea level.

But we’ll return to those thoughts another day, and descend now to the more prosaic. One rut we’ve got into is thinking it’s up to the government to lift our productivity by “reforming” this or that intervention in the economy.

This is model-blind thinking on the part of econocrats, hijacked by rent-seeking businesses and high income-earners wanting more power to limit the earnings of their employees and more of the tax burden shifted to other people in the name of improving “incentives”.

The same people show little interest in reforms that really would increase economic growth by increasing women’s participation in paid work, such as free childcare.

Another rut we’re in is thinking that we won’t get faster economic growth until we get back to faster productivity improvement.

This has much truth, but it misses the deeper truth that the relationship between economic growth and productivity can also run the other way: maybe we’re not getting faster productivity improvement because we’re not getting enough economic growth.

In practice, what does much to increase the productivity of labour is businesses – in mining, farming and manufacturing, but also the service industries – replacing old machines with the latest, most improved models.

But business investment has long been at historically low levels, making our weak productivity performance hardly surprising. And the dearth of new investment spending is also hardly surprising considering consumer spending has been so weak for so long.

Nor is weak consumer spending surprising when you remember how weak the growth in real wages has been. One reason wage growth has been so weak, as Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe has pointed out, is the present fashion of businesses using any and every means – legal or otherwise – to limit labour costs and so increase profits. There are other paths to profitability.

While we’re thinking unfamiliar thoughts on the possible causes of our productivity plateau, remember this one: when businesses have been investing strongly in new equipment in the past, it’s often been a time when labour costs have been rising rapidly, giving them a strong incentive to invest in labour-saving machines.

(Note, it’s precisely because this increases the productivity of labour, and thus increases real national income, that the pursuit of labour saving simply shifts the demand for labour from goods-producing industries to services-producing industries, leaving no decline in the demand for labour overall.)

Last year some economists at the International Monetary Fund wrote a blog post on yet another contributor to weak productivity improvement, which will certainly come as a surprise to “Brother Stu,” federal Education Minister Stuart Robert, who late last month sent a “letter of expectations” to the government’s Australian Research Council outlining the Morrison government’s desire to prioritise short-term research jobs that service the interests of commercial manufacturers.

It’s possible he and Scott Morrison merely wish to swing one for the Coalition’s generous business backers, but my guess is they imagined they were striking a blow for higher productivity. If so, they’ve been badly advised.

Research by the IMF economists finds that productivity improvement in the advanced economies has been declining despite steady increases in research and development, the best indicator we have on “innovation” effort, the thing so many business people give so many speeches about.

But get this: they find that what matters for economic growth is the composition of spending on R&D, with basic scientific research affecting more sectors for a longer time than applied research (commercially oriented R&D by companies).

“While applied research is important to bring innovations to market, basic research expands the knowledge base needed for breakthrough scientific progress,” they say.

“A striking example is the development of COVID-19 vaccines which, in addition to saving millions of lives, has helped bring forward the reopening of many economies . . . Like other major innovations, scientists drew on decades of accumulated knowledge in different fields to develop the mRNA vaccines.”

Which suggests the Morrison government has just jumped the wrong way in its latest intervention into the affairs of our universities. Should have done more R&D of their own before jumping.

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Who's ripping it off? Competition theory and reality

Puzzling over the rich economies' poor productivity improvement and weak wage growth (but healthy profits), American economists are pointing the finger at reduced competition between firms. But can this explain Australia's similar story?

Jim Minifie, of the Grattan Institute, set out to answer this in his report, Competition in Australia.

Economists regard strong competition between businesses as essential to ensuring market economies function well, to the benefit of consumers and workers.

Competition is what economic theory says stops us being ripped off by the capitalists. Firms that overcharge for their products lose business to firms that undercut them.

So competition pushes prices down towards costs (which economists – but not accountants – define as including the "cost of capital", or "normal profit", the minimum rate of profit needed to induce firms to stay in the market).

Competition helps ensure that economic resources - land, labour and (physical) capital – move to the uses most valued by consumers.

Competition also encourages firms to come up with new or better products – or less costly ways of producing a product – in the hope of higher profits. But those that succeed in this soon find their competitors copying their ideas, and bidding down the price to get a bigger slice of the action.

The innovations improve the economy's productivity (output per unit of input), but competition soon takes away the higher profits, delivering them into the hands of consumers, who often get better products for lower prices.

That's the theory. Question is, to what extent does it hold in practice? And does it hold less in recent years than it used to?

The simple theory assumes any market has a large number of sellers, each too small to be able to influence the market price. In practice, however, many of our markets are dominated by two, three or four big firms.

Why? Mainly because of the presence of economies of scale. It's very common that the more you produce of something – up to a point – the less each unit costs.

So, it makes great sense to have a small number of big firms doing much of the production – provided competition ensures most of the cost saving is passed on to customers in lower prices. Which, as a general rule, it has been over the decades.

Trouble is, big firms do have some degree of control over prices. And it's common for the few big firms in an industry to come to an unspoken agreement to compete using advertising or product differentiation, but not price.

Firms can increase their pricing power by taking over their competitors to get a bigger share of the market. It's the role of "competition policy" – run in our case by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission – to prevent overt collusion between firms, and takeovers intended to increase market power. But how well is that working?

"Natural monopolies" – where it simply wouldn't make economic sense for more than one firm to serve a particular market, such as rival sets of power lines running down a street, or two service stations in a small town - are another common departure from the theoretical model.

So, what did Minifie find in his study of competition in practice? He found evidence it had lessened in the United States, but not here.

He found plenty of markets where a few firms did most of the business. But "the market shares of large firms in concentrated sectors are not much higher in Australia than in other countries [of comparable size], and they have not grown much lately," he says.

Nor have their revenues (sales) grown faster than gross domestic product. The profitability of firms – profits relative to funds invested - hasn't risen much since 2000.

Minifie identifies eight industries characterised by natural monopoly (in descending order of size): electricity transmission and distribution, wired telecom, rail freight, airports, toll roads, water transport terminals, ports and pipelines.

Then there are nine industries where large economies of scale mean they're dominated by a few firms: supermarkets, wireless telecom, domestic airlines, then (of roughly equal size) internet service providers, pathology services, newspapers, petrol retailing, liquor retailing and diagnostic imaging.

Next are eight industries subject to heavy regulation by government: banks, residential aged care, general insurance, life insurance, taxis, pharmacies, health insurance and casinos.

(Often, these industries are heavily regulated for sound public policy reasons, but the regulation often acts as a barrier to new firms entering the market, thus allowing them to be dominated by a few firms.)

But note this: by Minifie's calculations, natural monopolies account for only about 3 per cent of "gross value added" (a variant of GDP), while high scale-economies industries account for 5 per cent and heavily regulated industries for 7 per cent.

So that means the parts of the economy where "barriers to entry" limit competitive pressure make up about 15 per cent of the economy. Then there are 29 industries with low barriers to entry making up the rest of the "non-tradables" private sector, and about half the whole economy.

That leaves the tradables sector (export and import-competing industries) accounting for 14 per cent of the economy and the public sector making up the last 20 per cent.

Even so, Minifie confirms that, in industries dominated by a few firms, many firms make "super-normal" profits – those in excess of what's needed to keep them in the industry.

By his estimates, up to half the total profits in the supermarket industry are super-normal. In banking it's about 17 per cent.

Other companies and sectors with substantial super profits include Telstra, some big-city airports, liquor retailers, internet service providers, sports betting agencies and private health insurers.

Comparing this last list with the lists of natural monopolies and heavily regulated industries suggests governments could be doing a much better job of ensuring the regulators haven't been captured by the companies being regulated.

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To what do we owe the Industrial Revolution?

One of the small pleasures of my year was watching the deft political manoeuvrings of Thomas Cromwell in the TV miniseries of Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall.

Of course, this has nothing to do with the economy – or does it?

I've just been reading a paper by three economic historians, Monks, Gents and Industrialists, arguing that an important reason why the Industrial Revolution of the late 18th century began in England, and in particular parts of England, was the long-run consequence of Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries between 1532 and 1540.

Henry's right-hand man in orchestrating the dissolution was Thomas Cromwell.

The economists are Leander Heldring, of Oxford University, James Robinson, of the University of Chicago, and Sebastian Vollmer, of the University of Gottingen in Germany. Their paper is published by America's National Bureau of Economic Research.

We owe today's economy to the two centuries of economic development precipitated by the Industrial Revolution, a period of radical technological innovation beginning in the 1760s.

It involved the replacement of hand tools with power-driven machines, and the shift of production from artisans' homes to factories.

The initial changes were in textile manufacture and metals, using new forms of inanimate power such as the steam engine and new methods of transportation, such as the railway.

The newly ubiquitous form of energy was coal – the start of our ill-fated love affair with fossil fuels.

There's less agreement among historians on why the Industrial Revolution started in England. Some give the credit to Britain's superior economic and political institutions. Others see it as a consequence of various "economic shocks", such as the Black Death of the mid-14th century or the expansion of Atlantic trade.

These led to changes in England's social structure, to political conflict in the 17th century, particularly the English civil war of the 1640s, to the Glorious Revolution of 1688, in which William of Orange seized the English throne from James II and, ultimately, to favourable changes in economic institutions.

The famous English historian Richard Tawney argued that the dissolution of the monasteries caused a change in the rural social structure, which led to the civil war.

Later scholars have discounted this, but our authors argue the dissolution helped bring about something much bigger, the Industrial Revolution.

As part of Henry's break with the Pope – which happened at the time of the Protestant Reformation in other parts of Europe – parliament first decreed that the Catholic monasteries' tithes be paid to the king rather than Rome, then that the monasteries be dissolved, with their lands expropriated by the crown. The king was declared head of the Church of England.

In 1530 there were about 825 monasteries in England and Wales, housing about 10,000 people. The term "monasteries" includes nunneries, friaries, abbeys and priories.

Aside from maintaining property and collecting rents, the monks engaged in prayer and singing for the local community, were active in education and were expected to provide food and lodging to travellers and distribute alms to the poor.

The church is thought to have held between a quarter and a third of all the land in England and Wales.

Henry gave away some of the expropriated land – including to Thomas Cromwell – but sold most of it. Two-thirds had been sold by 1547 and most of the rest by 1554, during the reign of Edward VI.

A key part of the authors' thesis is that most of the land was sold to the "gentry" – all non-noble landowners with sufficient land or wealth to put them above the yeomen farmers.

It's estimated that the gentry's share of English land rose from a quarter in 1436 to about half in 1688. What Tawney called "the rise if the gentry" mattered because they tended to be more commercially minded rural entrepreneurs.

The authors hypothesise that, in parishes or counties where the gentry rose more, and where commercial farming was more advanced, the gentry would be involved in other activities which would ultimately coalesce into the Industrial Revolution.

Three mechanisms could have connected the gentry to industrialisation. First, they had the vote, were able to sit in parliament and to lobby for legislation favourable to their economic interests.

Second, it's plausible the gentry were part of "proto-industrialisation", where the necessary conditions for industrialisation were established. There are many case studies of such things as gentry establishing coal mines on their properties.

Third, to the extent that the gentry were entrepreneurial commercial farmers they would have been more innovative and productive, and this "agricultural revolution" could have directly stimulated the Industrial Revolution.

But the endangered species of economic historians isn't allowed just to think up plausible theories about the past. Academic economists' obsession with mathematics means they have to seek empirical evidence for their theses by using fancy statistical techniques to find correlations between whatever "data series" they can find.

The authors digitised the 1535 Valor Ecclesiasticus – a census of the monasteries' incomes, ordered by Henry – and compared it with the 1838 survey of textile mills, as well as figures from the British census of 1831 showing the proportions of the labour force engaged in manufacturing, retail and agriculture.

They showed that the monastic income in a parish in 1535 was positively and significantly correlated with the presence of a textile mill in the parish 300 years later. Monastic income was also correlated with the proportion of the labour force in manufacturing and retail 300 years later.

They then used a census from 1700 showing the number of gentry in each of 24,000 towns and villages. Again, a good correlation with the distribution of monastery incomes 165 years' earlier.

And they used other figures to show monastic income is correlated with the number of agricultural patents registered in a parish between 1700 and 1850, implying the dissolution may indeed have led to greater innovation.

So, thanks for your help, Thomas.

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Maybe the end of economic growth draws near

If you think the possible ascension of Donald Trump is our one big worry you haven't been paying attention. Some climate scientists are worried sick over the possibility that climate change may be passing the point of no return while we procrastinate over controlling it.

Meanwhile, the nation's – nay, the world's – economists worry that the wellsprings of economic growth are drying up in the developed countries. Think of it – an economy without growth!

On Monday the Productivity Commission issued a discussion paper exclaiming that there is "justified global anxiety" that improvements in productivity and the growth in national income they cause have "slowed or stopped".

In my job I'm not supposed to say it but, sorry, I'm a lot more worried about inaction on climate change than the feared end of economic growth – if for no other reason than that going backward must surely be worse than not going forward.

Why can't most economists see that? Because climate change is not their department. They're meant to be experts on how to make economies grow, and that's all they want to talk about.

Most economists I know never doubt that a growing economy is what keeps us happy and, should the economy stop growing, it would make us all inconsolable.

They can't prove that, of course, but they're as convinced of it as anyone else selling something.

I'm not so sure. I'm sure a lot of greedy business people would be unhappy if their profits and bonuses stopped growing, but I often wonder if the rest of us could adjust to a stationary economy a lot more easily than it suits economists and business people to believe.

And get this: there is a fair chance we may get to find out if I'm right.

The economy – the amount of economic activity, measured as annual production of goods and services – grows as the population and, more particularly, the amount of work being done, grows.

The economy also grows when we save some of our income from producing goods and services and invest it in additional productive equipment – machines, buildings, infrastructure – thus making our workers capable of producing more goods and services with each hour they spend.

But here's the bit many scientists and others don't get: the secret sauce of economic growth is our ability to produce more goods and services this year than we did last year even with the same quantity of labour and capital equipment.

This is the pure essence of economic growth: improved "productivity" – productiveness. How is it possible? Mainly by giving workers not just more machines, but better machines; machines that do better tricks. By technological advance.

And also, these days, by using further education and training to make our workers capable of doing fancier tricks – including working with more sophisticated machines – and organising work in better ways.

This essence of productivity – which economists call "multifactor" productivity – is what seems to be drying up. In Australia, according to the eponymous commission, it hasn't improved since 2004.

But it's much the same story in all the developed economies. Many economists are starting to accept Harvard professor Lawrence Summers' revival of the theory of "secular stagnation" – that we've entered a lasting period of little or no growth in national income (gross domestic product), especially income per person.

What's helping to persuade them is the argument of another American economist, professor Robert Gordon, perhaps the world's leading expert on productivity.

His contention – which no young person would believe – is that the slowdown in measured productivity improvement has occurred because there is now much less innovation than we became used to over the past century.

Despite the unending wonders of the digital age, and the digital disruption of industry after industry, they just don't compare with the life-changing and economy-transforming technological advances of the past: electricity, the internal combustion engine, even underground water and sewerage.

We spent all of last century fully exploring and exploiting the potential just of electricity – from light bulb to production line to dishwasher to the computer and all it has spawned.

But there's more to Summers' secular stagnation. He argues that population ageing is leading people in the West to save more, while digital innovation and weak population growth are reducing the need for much new physical investment by businesses and governments.

Higher saving and lower investment equal permanently lower interest rates and lower economic growth.

Well, possibly. A rival theory is that the digital revolution and the shift from more goods to more services is changing the economy in ways that the economists' conventional measuring system is incapable of picking up.

We're still getting better off, but in ways that aren't showing on the economists' dials. It's certainly true that much of the time-saving and convenience flowing from the internet is not measured by GDP.

That's been my big problem with economists' obsession with economic growth. It defines prosperity almost wholly in material terms. Any preference for greater leisure over greater production is assumed to be retrograde.

Weekends are there to be commercialised. Family ties are great, so long as they don't stop you being shifted to Perth.

But I'd like to see if, in a stagnant economy, we could throw the switch from quantity to quality. Not more, better.

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Why governments should subsidise innovation

What can governments do to encourage innovation? Well, as we learnt this week, Malcolm Turnbull can think of $1.1 billion-worth of things to do.

His "national innovation and science agenda" involves 24 mainly small spending or tax concession programs, grouped under four headings.

Culture and capital, to help businesses embrace risk and to incentivise​ early-stage investment in start-ups.

Collaboration, to increase the level of engagement between businesses, universities and the research sector to commercialise ideas and solve problems.

Talent and skills, to train Australian students for the jobs of the future and attract the world's most innovative talent to Australia.

And government as an exemplar, to lead by example in the way government invests in and uses technology and data to deliver better quality services.

Will all those programs prove to be money well spent? Who knows? The safest prediction is that some will and some won't.

At present, the government is spending almost $10 billion a year on research and development. This involves about $2 billion on government research activities (mainly the CSIRO), almost $5 billion on grants to university and other research institutions (including medical research), and about $3 billion on tax breaks to business to encourage them to engage in R&D.

We do know a fair bit about the effectiveness of schemes to subsidise business R&D activity, whether in Oz or other countries.

And last week we saw the Australian Industry Report for 2015, produced by the chief economist of the Department of Industry, Innovation and Science, which reported the results of a new study of the effectiveness of the government's R&D tax concession scheme.

But first things first. This week's innovation statement tells us "innovation and science are critical for Australia to deliver new sources of growth, maintain high-wage jobs and seize the next wave of economic prosperity".

Which is nice, but what exactly is it? "Innovation is about new and existing businesses creating new products, processes and business models."

Ah, so that means innovation is just the latest business buzzword for what economists have always called technological advance. That means we can believe the happy chat about how wonderful innovation is.

Economists have long known that most of the rise in our material standard of living over the decades and centuries has come from advances in technology, which include better knowhow as well as better machines.

R&D, the industry report informs us, is the main vehicle for innovation. You wouldn't know it from the cost-cutting efforts of Treasury and the Department of Finance over the years, but economists have long accepted that there's a good case for government spending on R&D and for government subsidy of business spending on R&D.

A business engages in R&D in the hope that it leads to new or improved products and processes which will allow it make more bucks. They don't do it because they're nice guys but, even so, the rest of us benefit from their contribution to technological advance.

This means R&D has the characteristics of a "public good" – a good (or service) that's "non-excludable and non-rivalrous". You can't exclude me from using it (which means you can't charge me for using it) and my use of it doesn't interfere with other people's use of it.

Trouble is, public goods are a major instance of "market failure". We obviously benefit greatly from public goods  – particularly because they're non-rivalrous  – and so would benefit from them being produced in large quantity.

But we can't rely on the market  – profit-motivated businesses  – to produce as much of them as we'd like. Why not? Because they're non-excludable. Because too many people can use them without paying.

Economists call this the "free-rider" problem. They also say public goods generate "positive externalities"  – benefits that go to people even though they weren't a party to the original transaction between seller and buyer.

Where market failure can be demonstrated, you've made the case for government intervention in the market to correct the failure by "internalising the externality"  – always provided the intervention doesn't end up making matters worse, which these days is called "government failure".

So economists have long accepted the case for government to subsidise private R&D because this will benefit all of us, not just the business that gets the subsidy.

Of course, this is just theory. It's worth checking to see if our government's R&D tax concession really does produce positive externalities. Does the knowledge generated by the subsidised firm really "spill over" to other firms? And, if so, what can we learn about how this works?

To answer these questions the Industry department made available to Dr Sasan Bakhtiari and Professor Robert Breunig, of the Australian National University's Crawford School of Public Policy, data from its administration of the R&D program.

The program began in 1985, but the data used was from 2001 to 2011, during which time the number of participants grew from less than 4000 firms to more than 9000.

The program was open to firms in all industries, but the main industries using it were manufacturing, professional and scientific services, mining, and information media and telecommunications.

The researchers found evidence of significant spillovers of knowledge to particular firms from firms in the same industry, their suppliers, their client firms and from universities. Significantly, these spillovers came from outfits located within 10 km of the receiving firm, except in the case of suppliers, which were located more than 250 km away.

This leads the researchers to conclude, in line with other research, that knowledge spillovers from competitors and client firms mostly occur through face-to-face contacts between the R&D staff of the two firms.

So now you know why firms in the same business tend to cluster together, why that's a good thing and also, perhaps, why more and more of the nation's economic activity happens in or near the central business districts of our capital cities.

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Econocrats propose same old answer to all problems

If Malcolm Turnbull wants policy reforms that make the economy more innovative and agile, he should think long and hard before accepting advice from the economists in Treasury and the accountants in the department of Finance.

If you want innovation and agility, the last people to whom you should look for help are the two professions that, in their approach to problems new or old, demonstrate minimal innovation or mental agility.

I wouldn't want to call them insane, but they certainly recommend the same solutions over and over, while expecting different results.

The trouble with both professions is that their expertise is so narrow: they know a lot about just one aspect of the problem and little about all the other aspects, which they tend to ignore - while failing to warn their clients to match their advice against the advice of experts in other areas.

In the case of economists, they know what the economy needs, but they don't know much about what the economy needs and, thus, how to go about getting it.

For instance, economists see consumption as "the sole end and object of all economic activity". So they're experts on consumption, are they?

Well, no, not really. They couldn't, for instance, tell you how to maximise the utility you derive from your spending on consumption. Not their department. Better to ask a psychologist.

Economists know that improving productivity is the key to achieving faster economic growth and ever-rising material living standards. In fact, in the long run productivity is "almost everything".

So, could you give us a list of 10 things we could do to lift productivity? Well, no, not really. We don't actually know much about how you get productivity, we just know it's a great thing to have.

Of course, we do know a key source of productivity improvement is technological advance. Great, so how does technological advance work? Sorry, we haven't studied it much. We did have a go at developing an "endogenous growth theory" in the 1980s, but we soon gave up.

So what exactly is economists' area of expertise? They'd never admit it, so I'll tell you: prices. They know heaps about how the price mechanism works (given a host of mainly unrealistic assumptions), but not much else.

To make it sound sexier they may tell you economics is "the study of incentives". But in the economists' lexicon, incentives is just a synonym of prices. That's because economics pretty much ignores anything that can't be quantified, so the only incentives economists are conscious of are monetary incentives.

This assumption - that the power of monetary incentives is quite unaffected any other motivations (e.g. Turnbull only knocked off Tony Abbott because prime ministers are paid more than ministers) - does much to explain why the solutions economists propose often work so badly, with so many "unintended consequences".

Note that, in the mind of an economist, things like taxes and wages are just prices. This does much to explain economists' apparent obsession with taxation. It's a government-controlled price that seems to have much to do with the things politicians worry about these days.

It's a way for economists to appear to have useful advice on problems they don't really know much about.

Q: How should we encourage people to work more? A: cut the company tax rate and the top rate on individuals.

Q: How should we encourage people to save more? A: cut the company tax rate and the top rate on individuals.

Q: How should we encourage people to invest more? A: cut the company tax rate and the top rate on individuals.

Q: How should we encourage innovation? A: cut the company tax rate and the top rate on individuals.

Q: How can we make the economy more agile? A: cut the company tax rate and the top rate on individuals.

In sum, their preferred advice on such questions is: get the [monetary] incentives "right" and stand back.

Anything more specific to suggest? Yes, prime minister. Increase the tax incentives for spending on research and development. Give more money to scientific outfits like the CSIRO.

But haven't you guys been advising governments for years to keep cutting R&D tax breaks and money to CSIRO? Yes, prime minister, but that was when we wanted to cut the budget deficit and didn't care how we did it. Then, we didn't give a stuff about innovation and agility.

How come your advice on tax reform invariably favours high income-earners? Because when you're giving advice on matters you don't know much about, it's much less critically scrutinised when it happens to favour the rich and powerful.

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Abbott's choice: competition v cronies

It's still too soon to tell whether Tony Abbott's government is pro-market or pro-business, but so far the evidence for the latter stacks higher than that for the former.

The difference turns on whether the pollies want markets where effective competition ensures benefits to consumers are maximised and excessive profits minimised, or markets where government intervenes to limit competition - often under the cover of claiming to be protecting jobs - and makes life easier for favoured businesses.

Will we see more rent-seeking or less under Abbott, more of what The Economist calls "crony capitalism"?

Will firms or industries with rival interests do better from government regulation if they're more generous donors to party coffers?

Abbott and his ministers' intemperate attacks on the Australian National University for its decision to "divest" itself of a few million mining company shares for environmental or ethical reasons are a worrying sign.

Investors shouldn't enjoy freedom to choose where they invest, regardless of their reasons? ANU is different from the rest of us even though its investment funds come largely from private donations and bequests? This from a government keen to complete the de facto privatisation of universities?

What is ANU's offence? Bringing ethical considerations into investment? Or sounding like it believes climate change is real and we should be doing something real about it?

Abbott attacked ANU's decision as "stupid" and believes "coal is good for humanity, coal is good for prosperity, coal is an essential part of our economic future".

If ever there was an industry whose early decline could be confidently predicted - as it is being by hard-headed investors and bankers the world over - it's steaming coal.

Yet Abbott seems keen to change the rules of the formerly supposed bipartisan renewable energy target in ways that, by breaking long-standing commitments to the renewables industry, would cost it billions and blight the future of its employees, all to provide the government's coal and electricity industry mates with temporary relief from the inevitable.

The biggest problem with governments "picking winners" is that they quickly regress to picking losers, helping industries against which technology and other forces have shifted to resist the market's pressure for change that would - almost invariably - make consumers and the economy better off.

The proposals of the recent draft report of Professor Ian Harper's competition policy review could do much to strengthen the market's ability to deliver benefits to consumers and roll back decades of accumulated rent-seeking and crony capitalism.

The enthusiasm with which the Abbott government takes up those proposals will tell us much about its choice between being pro market forces or pro certain generous business donors to party funds.

A particular area where sound competitive principles have been secondary to special pleading from various interests is the regulation of intellectual property, such as patents, copyright, trademarks and plant breeder rights. Harper says our intellectual property regime is a priority for review.

IP isn't God-given, it's a government intervention in the market to limit competition with owners of the patents and so forth for a limited period. It's a response to market failure where the "public goods" characteristics of IP would otherwise generate too little monetary incentive for people to come up with the new knowledge and ideas that benefit us all.

In other words, it's a delicate trade-off between government-granted monopolies to encourage innovation, and competition to keep prices and excess profits down.

This makes it ripe for rent-seeking: pressuring politicians to extend the monopoly periods retrospectively (despite the lack of public benefit), to allow loopholes that permit phoney "ever-greening" of drug patents that would otherwise expire, to limit poor countries' access to life-saving drugs at realistic prices and to ignore blatant gaming of IP laws by two-bit operators that have never created anything.

Most of these excesses are at their worst in the United States with its easily bought legislature. The information revolution has made IP one of America's chief export earners. And the free-trade preaching Yanks have made advancing the interest of their IP exporters their chief priority in trade negotiations such as the present Trans Pacific Partnership deal.

As always, we have a tendency to give the Yanks whatever they want. Trouble is, as Harper points out, Australia is and always will be (and should be, given our comparative advantage in world trade) a net importer of intellectual property.

Abbott has a further temptation to be less than vigilant in pursuing Team Australia's best interests: his chief media cheerleader, News Corp, happens to be the twin brother of a primary beneficiary of the Yanks' efforts to advance the interests of their IP exporters, 21st Century Fox.

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Big cities have become the engine of the economy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Reserve turns spotlight on dark side of innovation

There are few words in the business bible more holy than "innovation". And I'm a believer in its great virtue. But, like many things in economics, sometimes what's usually a good thing can be a bad thing - even a terrible thing.

In a speech on banking, the deputy governor of the Reserve Bank, Dr Philip Lowe, drew attention to the dark side of innovation in the financial sector and advocated closer regulation of it. Here's what he said, with my interpolations.

"Over many decades, our societies have benefited greatly from innovation in the financial system. Financial innovation has delivered lower cost and more flexible loans and better deposit products."

It has provided new and more efficient ways of managing risk, he says, helped our economies to grow and our living standards to rise.

"But financial innovation can also have a dark side," he says. "This is particularly so where it is driven by distorted remuneration structures within financial institutions, or by regulatory, tax or accounting considerations."

Ain't that the truth. Distorted remuneration structures go a long way to explain the origins of the global financial crisis. People paid commissions to give home loans to people who couldn't possibly pay them off. People on Wall Street hugely rewarded when their bets pay off, but suffering no great personal loss when their bets blow up.

People who invent toxic products and flog them to their own clients. Credit rating agencies paid handsomely to give toxic products triple-A ratings.

Because (for reasons I'm yet to fully understand - or meet anyone who does) remuneration in the financial sector is so eye-wateringly gargantuan - enough to make chief executives envious - it attracts many of our brightest minds, who could be advancing the frontiers of science or managing the economy, but instead spend their days finding ways around financial regulations, tax law and accounting conventions.

I suppose you'd have to be hugely rewarded to devote your life to making such an antisocial contribution.

Lowe says problems can also arise where the new products are not well understood by those who develop and sell them, or by those who buy and trade them.

"Over recent times, much of the innovation that we have seen has been driven by advances in finance theory and computing power, which have allowed institutions to slice up risk into smaller and smaller pieces and allow each of those pieces to be separately priced," he says.

"One supposed benefit of this was that financial products could be engineered to closely match the risk appetite of each investor. But much of the financial engineering was very complicated and its net benefit to society is debatable."

Many of the products were not well understood, he says, and many of the underlying assumptions used in pricing turned out to be wrong. Even sophisticated financial institutions with all their resources [all those highly paid, super-bright people] didn't understand the risks at a micro-economic nor a system-wide level.

"As a result, they took more risk than they realised and created vulnerabilities for the entire global financial system."

Just so. We live in an era when it's the height of fashion to see much of the management task as managing the many and varied "risks" to which businesses are subject. It's a useful way of thinking.

One way to manage risk is to spread it very thinly between a large number of people. All insurance policies are longstanding examples of this approach. Another approach is to join together people facing opposite risks. For instance, a contract between someone who stands to lose if the dollar falls and someone who stands to lose if it rises.

The market has developed lots of "plain vanilla" derivatives that allow firms to swap their interest-rate or foreign-exchange risks in this way. This is socially beneficial innovation.

But when derivative contracts become far more complicated than that, there can be problems. Risk management can itself be risky. It's hard to escape the risk of human fallibility in all its forms: the risk that people (even professionals, let alone punters) don't really understand the risks they're taking on; the risk of people's judgment being clouded by greed or hubris (nothing's gone wrong so far and that's because I'm so smart).

Then there are all the previously non-existent risks you create when you invent assets for which there's no market price, but for which you calculate a price using a fancy mathematical formula. All such synthetic prices are built on a host of explicit and hidden assumptions.

Forget that small fact and you can come horribly unstuck, as we've already discovered in the global financial crisis to our huge and far-from-over cost - as witness, Europe.

The question is, how can society obtain the benefits that financial innovation delivers while reducing the risks it entails? Lowe concedes this won't be easy, but sees a way forward in greater public sector oversight of areas where innovation is occurring.

"I suspect that the answer is not more rules, for it is difficult to write rules for new products, especially if we do not know what those new products will be, and the rules themselves can breed distortions," he says.

But one concrete approach is for supervisors [such as our Australian Prudential Regulation Authority] and central banks to pay very close attention to areas where innovation is occurring: to make sure they understand what's going on and to test and probe institutions about their management of risks in new areas and new products.

"Ultimately, supervisors need to be prepared to take action to limit certain types of activities, or to slow their growth, if the risks are not well understood or not well managed," he concludes.

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We risk letting lawyers stifle innovation

If our business people, economists and politicians are genuine in their desire to lift our productivity, rather than just moan about the Fair Work Act, they'll put reform of the regulation of intellectual property high on their to-do list.

Unfortunately, the minor changes to intellectual property regulation put through Parliament last week, to the accompaniment of great self-congratulation by the Gillard government, suggest the professed true believers in productivity improvement just don't get it.

If we're really concerned to encourage invention, innovation and creativity, nothing could be more central than the way we regulate intellectual property. But I get the feeling a lot of people have lost sight of what we're doing and why we're doing it.

So let's start with the basics. When governments grant patent or copyright protection they are intervening in the market to give particular individuals or businesses a monopoly over the commercial exploitation of that idea for up to 20 years.

When you've got a monopoly you're able to charge higher prices than if you had competitors selling access to the same idea. So why on earth would a government grant such favours?

Well, the rationale is to increase the monetary incentive for people to come up with inventions, innovations and creations that benefit the community. If I dreamt up some new thing, but other people were immediately able to copy it and compete with me, I wouldn't get much reward for my effort and ingenuity.

In which case, people like me won't be trying very hard to come up with new ideas. So the government grants inventors and creators a temporary monopoly over their idea to encourage more good ideas.

The point to grasp is that this approach involves a trade-off. The government imposes a cost on the community by effectively allowing rights-holders to overcharge for their products, but it does so in return for the greater benefits this brings to the community.

This suggests, first, that governments should never grant rights or enhanced rights to individuals and firms unless it's clear the granting of those rights leaves the community better off. Second, governments should always be checking to ensure the benefits to the public from the protection of intellectual property exceed the costs to the public of that protection.

Were the public costs ever to exceed the public benefits, the entire economic justification for the artificial creation of property rights would evaporate. It would be a classic instance not of "market failure" but "government failure".

The reason reform of intellectual property should be high on the productivity promoters' to-do list is that we seem to be drifting ever closer to the point where its costs exceed its benefits. That seems particularly true in the United States - and we look to be going the same way.

The US plays a pivotal role in the globe's intellectual property. It's at the frontier of technological change and creativity, and is a net exporter of intellectual property to every country in the world. Increasingly, intellectual property, designs for new machines, pharmaceuticals, electronic gadgets, films, TV shows, books, recordings and much else, is the main thing the US sells the world.

These days, making the world a safer, more profitable place for American intellectual property is the main objective of US trade policy - as we found when we negotiated the misnamed free-trade agreement with the US in 2004. We were pressured to make our laws fit with the Americans', and we'll get more pressure to become more like them in all future trade negotiations.

So what's the problem? Much of it is that the whole area has been taken over by lawyers. It's become hellishly legalistic, complicated, loophole-ridden and expensive. In the process, the lawyers have lost sight of the economic object of the exercise. It's become an area of endless battles between businesses arguing over their rights.

The other part of it is that powerful industry groups have taken to lobbying politicians to change the law in ways that advance their interests without benefit to the public. And US businesses increasingly engage in game-playing in the hope of ripping each other off.

American pollies are often persuaded to extend the life of intellectual property protection retrospectively, which obviously does nothing to encourage innovation in the past.

The patent system has been extended to cover software (which was already copyright) and even business methods. It's too easy to get a patent - you can get them for very obvious ideas - and patents can be too broad, covering yet-unthought-of uses.

You can get a patent for something that's very similar to someone else's patent. But because they're handed out so easily, you often don't know whether a patent is valid - whether his patent beats your patent - unless you spend between $5 million and $7 million battling it out in court. The high cost of litigation means big businesses regularly intimidate small businesses.

This problem of "fuzzy boundaries" to patents is so bad some businesses make a living as 'patent trolls' buying up dodgy patents, then threatening to sue legitimate patent-holders. The victim pays what amounts to protection money to avoid the higher cost of a court battle.

You've no doubt heard of the huge patent battle between Apple and Samsung being fought in courts around the world. Which side has the legitimate patents for tablet technology?

Pharmaceutical companies use a trick called "evergreening" to stop their patents expiring, which would have allowed competition from generic drug producers to slash the prices they can get for their drugs.

The owners of intellectual property rights often attempt to use them to protect themselves from losing business to firms developing more innovative ways of doing things.

Just as undesirable, researchers trying to develop better products can be held back by the prohibitions or high costs imposed by existing patent holders (some of which may not be legit).

It's got so bad in the US that, according to the calculations of a leading academic campaigner for patent reform, James Bessen, of Boston University school of law, for all US patents bar those for chemicals and pharmaceuticals, earnings from their patents are more than exceeded by the cost of litigation to protect those patents. He calls this a "patent tax".

If he's right, the intellectual property system has degenerated to the point where it's actually inhibiting innovation. We're being forced to pay higher prices, but getting nothing in return.

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