Evil Lord Keynes flies to rescue of disbelieving Liberals

When we entered lockdown in March this year, many people (including me) pooh-poohed Scott Morrison’s assurance that the economy would “snap back” once the lockdown was lifted. Turned out he was more right than wrong. Question is, why?

Two reasons. But first let’s recap the facts. About 85 per cent of the jobs lost in April and May had been recovered by November, with more likely this month. It’s a similar story when you look at the rebound in total hours worked per month (thereby taking account of underemployment).

In consequence, the rate of unemployment is expected to peak at 7.5 per cent – way lower than the plateaus of 10 per cent after the recession of the early 1980s and 11 per cent after the recession of the early 1990s. And the new peak is expected in the next three months.

At this stage, the unemployment rate is expected to be back down to where it was before the recession in four years. If you think that’s a terribly long time, it is. But it’s a lot better than the six years it took in the ’80s, and the 10 years in the ’90s.

We’ve spent most of this year telling ourselves we’re in the worst recession since World War II. Turns out that’s true only in the recession’s depth. Never before has real gross domestic product contracted by anything like as much as 7 per cent – and in just one quarter, to boot.

But one lesson we’ve learnt this year is that, with recessions, what matters most is not depth, but duration. Normally, of course, the greater depth would add to the duration. But this is anything but a normal recession. And, in this case, it’s the other way round: the greater depth has been associated with shorter duration.

Of course, the expectation that this recession will take just four years to get unemployment back to where it was is just a forecast. It may well be wrong. But what we do have in the can is that, just six months after 870,000 people lost their jobs, 85 per cent of them were back in work. Amazing.

So why has the economy snapped back in a way few thought possible? First, because this debt-and-deficit obsessed government, which would never even utter the swearword “Keynes” - whom the Brits raised to the peerage for his troubles - swallowed its misconceptions and responded to the lockdown with massive fiscal (budgetary) stimulus.

The multi-year direct fiscal stimulus of $257 billion (plus more in the budget update) is equivalent to 13 per cent of GDP in 2019-20. This compares with $72 billion fiscal stimulus (6 per cent of GDP) applied in response to the global financial crisis – most of which the Liberals bitterly opposed.

Some see Morrison’s about-face on the question of fiscal stimulus as a sign of his barefaced pragmatism and lack of commitment to principle. Not quite. A better “learning” from this development is that conservative parties can afford the luxury of smaller-government-motivated opposition to using budgets (rather than interest rates) to revive economies only while in opposition, never when in government.

At the heart of Morrison’s massive stimulus were two new, hugely influential, hugely expensive and hugely Keynesian temporary “automatic budgetary stabilisers” - the JobKeeper wage subsidy and the supplement to JobSeeker unemployment benefits.

But the second reason the rebound is stronger than expected is that, while acknowledging the coronacession’s uniqueness, economists (and I) have been too prone to using past, more conventional recessions as the “anchor” for their predictions about how the coronacession will proceed.

We’ve forgotten that, whereas our past recessions were caused by the overuse of high interest rates to slowly kill off a boom in demand over a year or more, the coronacession is a supply shock – where the government suddenly orders businesses (from overseas airlines to the local caff) to cease trading immediately and until further notice, and orders all households to leave their homes as little as possible.

It’s this unprecedented supply-side element that means economists should never have used past ordinary demand-side recessions as their anchor for predicting the coronacession’s length and severity.

Whereas normal recessions are economies doing what comes naturally after the authorities hit the brakes too hard, the coronacession is an unnatural act, something that happened instantly after the flick of a government switch.

Morrison believed that, as soon as the government decided to flick the switch back to on, the economy would snap back to where it was. Thanks to his massive fiscal stimulus and other measures – which were specifically designed to stop the economy from unwinding while it was in limbo – his expectation was 85 per cent right.

But there’s a further “learning” to be had from all this. In a normal recession, a recovery is just a recovery. Once it’s started, we can expect it to continue until the job’s done, unless the government does something silly.

But this coronacession is one of a kind. What we’ve had so far is not the start of a normal recovery, but a rebound following the flick of the lockdown switch back to “on”. It has a bit further to run, with the leap in the household saving rate showing that a fair bit of the lockdown’s stimulus is yet to be spent.

Sometime next year, however, the stimulus will stop stimulating demand. Only then will we know whether the rebound has turned into a normal recovery. With wage growth still so weak, I’m not confident it will.

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The Liberal Keynes moves back into Treasury

For a man who, just months ago, was too prudish to say that dirty word “stimulus”, there’s now no doubt Treasurer Josh Frydenberg has become a card-carrying Keynesian. This week’s budget administers a huge Keynesian boost to our recessed economy. But he’s done it in a very Liberal way.

And, although the budget papers prefer to say “support” rather than “stimulus”, the man himself is always tossing off Keynesian jargon such as “aggregate demand” and burbling about the budget’s “automatic stabilisers”.

(John Maynard Keynes, BTW, was an avowed supporter of the British Liberal Party – although it was a different animal to our party of that name.)

According to the budget papers, the budget announced a further $73 billion in stimulus (plus $25 billion in virus-related health measures) over the next four years, on top of earlier spending of $159 billion.

Another way of judging the budget’s effect on aggregate (total) demand in the economy is to say the government expects the underlying cash deficit to increase from $85 billion last financial year to $213 billion this year.

This increase of $128 billion is equivalent to more than 6 per cent of gross domestic product. Unlike a strict Keynesian analysis, however, this takes the stimulus’ addition to the “structural component” of the budget balance, arising from the government’s explicit decisions to increase government spending or cut taxes, and combines it with the addition to the “cyclical component” made by the operation of the budget’s automatic stabilisers.

As the budget papers explain, “automatic stabilisers are features of the tax and transfer system that dampen the size of economic cycles without the need for explicit actions by policymakers. The government has allowed the automatic stabilisers to operate freely to dampen the effect of the COVID-19 shock.

“In a downturn, household and business after-tax income falls by less than before-tax income (for instance, due to progressivity in the tax system and [provisions for companies to deduct their losses from future - and now past – profits for tax purposes]) and transfer payments increase (due to increases in unemployment benefit payments and income-testing of other transfer payments).

“This provides an economic stimulus [whoops] that can reduce the magnitude of the downturn,” the papers say.

But Frydenberg wants to be clear that he’s embraced Keynesianism on his own terms. The budget papers say the economic recovery plan “is consistent with the government’s core values of lower taxes and containing the size of government, guaranteeing the provision of essential services, and ensuring budget and balance sheet discipline”.

And, as Frydenberg has said many times, the goal is to use budgetary stimulus to bring about a “business-led recovery”. I’d have thought that spending a lot of public money makes it a government-led recovery, but I think what he means is that most of the public money should be given to businesses, rather than being spent directly or given to punters.

Once you realise this, Frydenberg’s choices of what measures to include in the budget are easier to understand.

For instance, by far the most expensive measure – costing $27 billion over four years – is a temporary concession allowing businesses to deduct the full cost of all the new equipment they buy in the first year, rather than apportion the cost over the life of the asset.

Next are the personal income-tax cuts, costing $18 billion over the budget year and the three years of the “forward estimates”.

Then there’s infrastructure grants to the states of $7 billion, plus $2 billion for road safety improvements and upgrades. Then the $5 billion cost of letting loss-making businesses get an immediate tax deduction for their loss.

Only now do we get to the budget’s other centrepiece beside the tax cuts, the JobMaker hiring credit (wage subsidy) for employers who hire jobless young people under 35, which is the government’s replacement for the $101 billion JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme when it finishes in March. The new scheme will cost just $4 billion over three years.

Then we come to the cash splash payments to pensioners ($2.6 billion), $2 billion in new spending on aged care and $2 billion on a research and development tax incentive.

You see from this incomplete list how many of the budget’s measures seek to direct money into the hands of businesses: $34 billion in tax breaks and $4 billion in wage subsidies, compared with $20 billion in personal tax cuts and the pensioner cash splash.

Most of these measures are intended to get businesses investing and employing, but they do so by cutting the cost to them of capital equipment or labour. Those who would have invested and employed anyway are left better off, without taxpayers getting any value.

(And remember that one reason the government was happy to pay what it thought would be $130 billion for the JobKeeper scheme was that the money went to workers via their employer. This left businesses better off to the extent that their workers kept working.)

You do have to wonder whether all this spending would have done more to get the economy moving and unemployment falling if more of it had gone on job subsidies and less on investment incentives. Trying to get businesses investing in expanding their production rather than trying to get more people in jobs and spending on the things businesses produce seems to get things the wrong way round.

And you see that this “Liberal values” business-directed, tax-reducing approach to fiscal stimulus explains why the budget didn’t include the two measures economists most wanted to see because they’d do most to boost consumer spending and jobs: a big spend on social housing (a no-no under the rules of Smaller Government) and a permanent increase in unemployment benefits (almost every cent of which would have been spent).

The risk with Frydenberg’s politically correct stimulus is that too much of it will be saved. He needs to bone up on Keynes’ warning about the “paradox of thrift”.

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How to multiply the bang from your budget buck

Years ago, I came to a strong conclusion: the politician who could resist the temptation to use the budget to prop up the economy when it’s falling in a heap and making voters hugely dissatisfied has yet to be born.

So let me make a fearless prediction: whatever they’re saying now, sooner or later Treasurer Josh Frydenberg and his boss Scott Morrison will use “fiscal policy” (aka the budget) to help counter the sharp slowdown in the economy that, if we’re not careful or our luck doesn’t hold, could lead to something much worse.

How can I be so sure? Because I’ve seen it happen so many times before. As I wrote in this column last week, since the late 1970s it’s been the international conventional wisdom among governments and their advisers that “monetary policy” (interest rates) should be the chief instrument used to stabilise the economy as it moves through the ups and downs of the business cycle, with fiscal policy focused instead on achieving “fiscal sustainability” – making sure the public debt doesn’t get too high.

Take Malcolm Fraser, for instance. He spent almost all his time as prime minister trying to eliminate the big budget deficit he inherited from the Whitlam government.

Until, that is, his advisers noticed indications of what became the recession of the early 1980s. In his last budget, he cut taxes and boosted government spending.

The Hawke government was totally committed to leaving it all to monetary policy, and stuck to that even when Treasurer John Kerin brought down the 1991 budget during the depths of the recession we didn’t have to have in the early 1990s.

Except that, by this time, Paul Keating was on the backbench, telling everyone who’d listen that you’d have to be crazy not to be using the budget to stimulate the economy.

In February 1992, soon after he’d deposed Bob Hawke, Keating unveiled his own big One Nation stimulus package – which by then was far too late.

It was Dr Ken Henry’s realisation at the time that politicians will always do something, even if they should have done it much sooner that, after the global financial crisis in 2008, saw him urging Kevin Rudd to “go early, go hard, go households”.

Combined with a cut in interest rates far bigger than would be possible today, that fiscal stimulus was so effective in keeping us out of the Great Recession that, today, the punters have forgotten there was ever any threat and the Coalition has convinced itself it was never needed in the first place.

Now, as we also saw last week, with interest rates so close to zero, fiscal policy is back in fashion internationally – though I’m not sure the carrier pigeon has yet made it as far as Canberra. So we’ve got time for a quick refresher on how fiscal stimulus works while we wait for the penny to drop in the Bush Capital.

There is a “circular flow of income” around the economy, caused by the simple truth that one person’s spending is another person’s income. This means that $1 spent by the government (or anyone else, for that matter) can flow around the economy several times.

This is what economists call the “multiplier” effect. Just how big the multiplier is for any spending will depend on the “leakages” from the flow that happen when someone decides to save some of their income rather than spend it all, or when they spend some of their income on imported goods or services (including overseas holidays).

(There are also “injections” to the flow from investment – someone uses or borrows savings to spend on a new house or office or equipment – and from exports of goods or services to foreigners.)

This means that the degree of stimulus the economy receives will differ according to the choices the government makes about the form its stimulus will take.

In a briefing note prepared by Dr Peter Davidson for the Australian Council of Social Service, he quotes research on the size of multipliers calculated by the Congressional Budget Office for the various measures contained in President Obama’s stimulus package in 2009, after the financial crisis.

Where the government spent directly on the purchase of goods and services, $1 of spending increased US gross domestic product by between 50¢ and $2.50. Where the spending was money given to state governments for the construction of infrastructure, the multiplier ranged between 0.45 and 2.2.

For spending on social security payments, the multiplier ranged between 0.45 and 2.1. For one-off payments to retirees, it was between 0.2 and 1. For grants to first-home buyers, between 0.2 and 0.7.

Turning from government spending to tax cuts, the budget office found than tax cuts for low to middle income-earners yielded a multiplier of between 0.3 and 1.5. For tax cuts for high income-earners, it was between 0.05 and 0.6. For additional company tax deductions, it was 0.4.

These big differences aren’t hard to explain. Multipliers are highest for direct government purchases or construction because there’d be no initial leakage into saving and little into imports.

The multipliers for tax cuts are lower because of initial leakage into saving and imports – not so much for low and middle income-earners, but hugely so for high income-earners.

Davidson’s conclusion is that a fiscal stimulus package would give the biggest bang per buck if it focused on direct government spending (particularly on timely infrastructure projects) and transfer payments to social security recipients.

Unsurprisingly, he slips in a plug for a $75 a week increase in dole payments to single people and single parents which, because it went to the poorest households in the country, would be spent down to the last penny and on essentials such as food and rent, not imports. It would also go to the poorest regions in the country.

Sounds good to me – and also to Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe.

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Beware of groupthink on why the economy’s growth is so weak

According to our top econocrats, the underlying cause of the economy’s greatest vulnerability – weak real wage growth – is obvious: weak improvement in productivity. But I fear they’ve got that the wrong way round.

We all agree that, in a well-functioning economy, the growth in wage rates exceeds the rise in prices by a percentage point or two each year. On average over a few years, this “real” growth in wages is not inflationary, but is justified by the improvement in the productivity of the workers’ labour.

If this real growth in wages doesn’t happen, then real growth in gross domestic product will be chronically weak. That’s because consumer spending accounts for about 60 per cent of GDP.

Consumer spending is driven by household disposable income which, in turn, is driven mainly by wage growth.

We would get some growth in GDP, however, because our rate of population growth is so high. But look at growth per person, and you find it’s growing by only about 1 per cent a year.

It’s long been believed that real wages and productivity are kept in line by some underlying (but unexplained) equilibrating force built into the market economy.

Since the two have kept pretty much in line over the decades, few economists have doubted the existence of this magical force, nor wondered how it worked.

In America, however, real wages haven’t kept up with productivity improvement for the past 30 years or more.

And, as Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe acknowledged while appearing before a parliamentary committee recently, for the past five years nor have they in Australia.

Unlike the unions, which see the weakness in wage growth as the result of past industrial relations “reform” shifting the balance of wage-bargaining power too far in favour of employers, Lowe remains confident the problem is temporary rather than structural.

“Workers and firms right around the world feel like there’s more competition, and they feel more uncertain about the future because of technology and competition,” he said.

So, be patient. As the economy continues to grow and unemployment falls further, workers and their bosses will become more confident, wages will start growing faster than inflation and everything will be back to normal.

To be fair, Lowe is saying we have had “reasonable” productivity improvement over the past five years, which hasn’t been passed on to wages.

It would be better if productivity was stronger, of course, and “there’s been no shortage of reports giving . . . ideas of what could be done” to strengthen it.

But last week the newish chairman of the Productivity Commission, Michael Brennan, broke his public silence to give an exclusive statement to the Australian Financial Review.

“Productivity growth has been disappointing over the last few years in Australia, as it has been in many countries. There are no magic wands . . . but there are some clear remedies for Australia that should start with a focus on governments’ capacity to influence economic dynamism and productivity,” he said.

Oh, no, not that tired old line again. If wages aren’t growing satisfactorily, that’s because productivity isn’t improving satisfactorily, and the only way to improve productivity is for governments to instigate “more micro-economic reform”.

So, weak wage growth turns out to be the workers’ own fault. Their electoral opposition to “more micro reform” is making governments too afraid to do the thing that would raise their real wages.

We’ve become so used our econocrats’ neo-classical way of thinking that we don’t see its weaknesses.

It’s saying that, if the problem is weak demand, the cause must be weak supply, and the solution must be faster productivity improvement, which can be brought about only by “more micro reform”.

This ignores the alternative, more Keynesian way of analysing the problem: if the problem is weak demand, the obvious solution is to fix demand, not improve supply.

Since the global financial crisis, the developed countries, including us, have suffered a decade of exceptionally weak growth.

We’ve had weak consumer spending because of weak wage growth, the product of globalisation and skill-biased technological change, which has diverted much income to those with a lower propensity to consume.

With weak growth in consumer spending, there’s been little incentive to increase business investment rather than return capital to shareholders.

It’s this weakness in business investment spending that’s the most obvious explanation for weak productivity improvement.

That’s because it’s when businesses replace their equipment with the latest model that advances in technology are disseminated through the economy.

Our econocrats are like the drunk searching for his keys under the lamppost because that’s where the supply-side light shines brightest.

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Back to the future: Keynes can lift us out of stagnation

Every so often the economies of the developed world malfunction, behaving in ways the economists’ theory says they shouldn’t. Economists fall to arguing among themselves about the causes of the breakdown and what should be done. We’re in such a period now.

It’s called “secular stagnation” and it’s characterised by weak growth – in the economy, in consumer spending, in business investment and in productivity improvement. This is accompanied by low price inflation and wage growth, and low real interest rates.

Let me warn you: the last time the advanced economies went haywire, it took the world’s economists about a decade to decide why their policies of managing the macro economy were no longer working and to reach consensus around a new policy approach.

That was in the mid-1970s, when the first OPEC oil-price shock brought to a head the problem of “stagflation” – high unemployment combined with high inflation – a problem the prevailing Keynesian orthodoxy said you couldn’t have.

The Keynesians’ “Phillips curve” said unemployment and inflation were logical opposites. If you had a lot of one, you wouldn’t have much of the other.

The developed world’s econocrats lost faith in Keynesianism and flirted with Milton Friedman’s “monetarism” – which was just a tarted-up version of the “neo-classical” orthodoxy that had prevailed until the Great Depression of the 1930s.

That was the previous time the economics profession fell to arguing among itself. Why? Because neo-classical economics said the Depression couldn’t happen, and had no solution to the slump bar the (counter-productive) notion that governments should balance their budgets.

It was John Maynard Keynes who, in his book The General Theory, published in 1936, explained what was wrong with neo-classical macro-economics, explained how the Depression had happened and advocated a solution: if the private sector wasn’t generating sufficient demand, the government should take its place by borrowing and spending.

In the period after World War II, almost all economists – and econocrats – became Keynesians. Until the advent of stagflation.

Notice a pattern? We start out with neo-classical thinking, then dump it for Keynesianism when it can’t explain the Depression. Then, when Keynesianism can’t explain stagflation, we dump it and revert to neo-classicism.

Enter Dr Mike Keating, a former top econocrat, who thinks the present crisis of stagnation means it’s time to dump neo-classicism and revert to Keynesianism.

Why do economists have rival theories and keep flipping between them? Because neither theory can explain every development in the economy, but both contain large elements of truth.

So it’s not so much a question of which theory is right, more a question of which is best at explaining and solving our present problem, as opposed to our last big problem.

I think there’s much to be said for this more eclectic, horses-for-courses approach. There’s no one right model. Rather, economists have a host of different models in their toolbox, and should pull out of the box the model that best fits the particular problem they’re dealing with.

And much is to be said for Keating’s argument that we need a different economic strategy to help us into the 21st century. Got a problem with stagnation? The tradesman you need to call is Keynes.

Although the rich economies are in a lot better shape than they were during the Depression – mainly because, in the global financial crisis of 2008, governments knew to apply Keynesian stimulus - Keating sees similarities between the two periods of economic and economists’ dysfunction.

In this context, the key difference between the rival theories is their differing approaches to supply and demand.

Neo-classical economics assumes the action is always on the supply side. Something called Say’s Law tells us supply creates its own demand, so get supply right and demand will look after itself.

The modern incarnation of this is “the three Ps”. In the end, economic growth is determined by the economy’s potential capacity to produce goods and services, and our “potential” growth rate is determined by the growth in population, participation and productivity improvement (with the last being the most important).

By contrast, Keynesianism is about fixing the problem Say’s Law says we can never have: deficient demand. Insufficient demand was what kept us trapped in the Depression. Keating argues the fundamental cause of our present stagnation is deficient demand, and the solution is to get demand moving again.

Back in the stagflation of the 1970s, however, the problem wasn’t deficient demand. It was the supply side of the economy’s inability to produce all the goods and services people were demanding, thus generating much inflation pressure.

After realising that Friedman’s targeting of the money supply didn’t work, the rich world’s eventual solution to the problem was what we in Australia called “micro-economic reform” – reduced protection and government regulation of industries, so as to increase competition within industries and spur greater productive efficiency and productivity improvement, thus increasing our rate of “potential” growth.

Keating – who, with another bloke of the same name, played a big part in making those early reforms – insists they worked well and left us with a more flexible, less inflation-prone economy. True.

By now, however, assuming you can fix a problem of deficient demand by chasing greater competition and improved productivity just shows you haven’t understood the deeper causes of the problem.

But when Keating advocates a new economic strategy of demand management, he doesn’t just mean governments borrowing and spending a lot of money now to give demand a short-term boost.

He mainly means a new kind of micro reform that, by increasing the income going to those likely to spend a higher proportion of it, and by lifting our education and training performance to help workers cope with new technology, ensures demand strengthens and stays strong in the years to come.

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How Keynesianism came to Australia

Whenever you meet someone who uses the words Keynes or Keynesian as a swear word – or as synonyms for socialist – know that their adherence to neoliberal dogma far exceeds their understanding of mainstream economics.

Though John Maynard Keynes' (rhymes with gains) magnum opus, The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money, was published in 1936, and he died 10 years later at 62, most economists – including many who wouldn't want to be called Keynesians – acknowledge him as the greatest economist of the 20th century.

It's true that the "monetarist" counter-attack on Keynesian orthodoxy led by Milton Friedman in the 1970s and early 1980s led to lasting changes in prevailing views about how the macro economy should be managed – mainly, that the primary instrument used to stabilise demand should be monetary policy (interest rates) rather than fiscal policy (the budget).

But the monetarists' advocacy of using control of the money supply to limit inflation was soon abandoned as unworkable, and these days few economists would want to be called monetarist.

What remains is a host of fundamentally Keynesian ideas. First is the distinction between micro-economics (study of particular markets) and macro-economics, study of the economy as a whole.

Then there's the idea that governments should seek to stabilise the fluctuations in aggregate (total) demand as the economy moves through the business cycle, a notion rejected by some "new classical" academic economists, but daily practised by the world's central banks and treasuries.

Macro-economists' obsession with fluctuations in gross domestic product is a product of Keynesian thinking, made possible by the development of "national income accounting" by Keynes' followers.

The General Theory was Keynes' attempt to explain how the Great Depression of the 1930s occurred – when the prevailing "neo-classical" orthodoxy said it couldn't occur – and how the world could return to healthy economic growth.

Eventually, it led to a revolution in the way economists thought about the macro economy. Neo-classical theory was out, Keynesian theory was in. Usually, radically different ideas can take years to be accepted – but this time, not so much in Australia.

In his book published earlier this year, A History of Australasian Economic Thought, Alex Millmow, an associate professor at Federation University in Ballarat, explains how Keynesianism​ came to Oz.

Although The General Theory laid out Keynes' new approach in all its exciting but confusing glory, the thinking of Keynes and his associates at Cambridge University in England had been developing since the start of the Depression in late 1929, and expressed in several of his earlier books and papers.

Australian academic economists had also been puzzling over the causes and cure of the international slump. They'd been closely involved in our initial policy response, to devalue the Australian pound, cut wages by 10 per cent and try to balance the budget.

Only slowly did the evolving thinking of Keynes and his circle in Cambridge cause them to doubt the wisdom of this deflationary approach, which made things worse, and shift to the opposite tack of using government spending on capital works to stimulate economic activity and create jobs at a time of mass unemployment.

Cambridge was then the Mecca of economics – especially for Australians – meaning our academics had plenty of contact. Our leading economist of the era was Lyndhurst Falkiner Giblin, a Tasmanian based at the University of Melbourne.

Anther leader was Douglas Copland, a Kiwi also at Melbourne Uni. They were early and influential, if cautious and qualified, supporters of the Keynesian approach.

Among the Australians who studied at Cambridge and brought back Keynesian thinking was E. Ronald Walker (later Sir Edward Walker; several of these people ended up as knights), based at the University of Sydney.

Over the years, Walker did most to inculcate Keynesian macro-economics among Australian academics and students. Another Aussie who returned from Cambridge as a convert was Syd Butlin, also at Sydney, who became our greatest economic historian.

Keynes was interested in how Australia had been hit by the Depression. Among his colleagues and students who made extended visits to Australia in the 1930s was Colin Clark, who stayed on after accepting an invitation to become a top bureaucrat in the Queensland government.

Clark was a brilliant economic statistician, who played a leading part in the development of what these days are known in every country as the national accounts.

When a Labor federal treasurer, Edward "Red Ted" Theodore, proposed a program of reflation in 1931, to counter the effects of the earlier deflationary measures, he quoted Keynes in his support. His plan was blocked by the Senate.

All this explains why Keynesian ideas were widely accepted by Australian economists even before the publication of The General Theory in 1936.

Publication came just as our first royal commission into "the monetary and banking systems" was getting under way. Many economists gave evidence, making a more influential contribution than the bankers, who defended the status quo.

The leading member of the commission, who wrote most of its report, was Richard Mills, an economics professor from Sydney University. Its other member of note was Ben Chifley, future Labor treasurer and prime minister, whose part in the commission caused his biographer to call him "a Keynesian of the first hour".

It's key finding was that "the Commonwealth Bank [then Australia's central bank, as well as a government-owned trading bank] should make its chief consideration the reduction of fluctuations in general economic activity in Australia".

The commission's recommendations shaped the regulation of Australian banking – including establishment of the Reserve Bank of Australia in 1959 – until the advent of financial deregulation in the mid-1980s.

As Millmow has observed elsewhere, the latest banking royal commission is unlikely to be nearly as influential as the first.

The federal government's national mobilisation following the outbreak of war in 1939, then the preparations for "postwar reconstruction and development", saw the full acceptance of Keynesian economics.

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Is the world ruled by ideas or by interests?

Most economists believe John Maynard Keynes (rhymes with "brains" not "beans") was the greatest economist of the 20th century. But his most famous quote is one I've never been sure I agree with.

He claimed that "the ideas of economists and political philosophers, both when they are right and when they are wrong, are more powerful than is commonly understood.

"Indeed, the world is ruled by little else. Practical men, who believe themselves to be quite exempt from any intellectual influence, are usually the slaves of some defunct economist.

"Madmen in authority, who hear voices in the air, are distilling their frenzy from some academic scribbler of a few years back."

One man who definitely agrees is Barry Schwartz, a professor of psychology at Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania. He writes in his book Why We Work that, where once our ideas about human nature may have come from our parents, our community leaders and our religious texts, these days they come mostly from social science.

"In addition to creating things, science creates concepts, ways of understanding the world and our place in it, that have an enormous effect on how we think and act," Schwartz says.

"If we understand birth defects as acts of God, we pray. If we understand them as acts of chance, we grit our teeth and roll the dice. If we understand them as the product of prenatal neglect, we take better care of pregnant women."

Schwartz says that because ideas aren't objects, to be seen, purchased and touched, they can suffuse through the culture and have profound effects on people before they are even noticed.

And ideas, unlike things, can have profound effects on people even if those ideas are false.

I don't doubt that, in this, both Schwartz and Keynes are right. The social world is far too complex for any of us to really understand how it works. So we observe what's happening and then come up with theories - "models" - about how it works.

Those theories inevitably influence the way we think about the world, the way we react to it and the way we try to get some control over it.

But the world is so complex that we can have lots of different theories about it, or different aspects of it. Many of those theories will have an element of truth and an element of error.

We probably should have a toolbox full of theories, choosing to use the one that best fits the particular issue we're focusing on.

But human nature - our limited cognitive processing power - leads us to simplify things, settling on the one that seems to work best and apply to most circumstances. We remember it, and forget the others.

Often, of course, we don't do a lot of thinking about which theory is best, we just go along with the one most of the people around us seem to believe.

It's also true that the theories and models we rely on, consciously or unconsciously, become, as the sociologists say, "performative" - if enough people believe the world works in certain way and act on that belief, to some extent the world does start to work that way.

There are limits to this, of course. For a few decades economists allowed their dominant model - their group's way of thinking - to convince them the deregulation of the banks had brought us to the era of Great Moderation, of low inflation and unemployment with ever rising prosperity.

Their model blinded them to the global financial crisis that was coming and the years of economic malfunction that would follow.

There could be no more costly demonstration of the inadequacy of their theory about how the world worked.

So no argument: ideas have a huge effect on the world - for good or ill. But does that mean "the world is ruled by little else"?

I doubt it. The main rival for that title is the thing economists exalt above all else: self-interest. What happened to the rich and powerful, don't they have any influence on how the world is ruled?

The more I observe our politics, the more I see it as an unending battle between powerful interest groups. The political parties, contending for their own share of power, negotiate their way around the most powerful of the various interest groups.

The problem is the power democracy still gives to ordinary punters. Should I try to win votes by promising a royal commission, or should I keep in with the banks - and their generous donations to election funds - by promising to bash them with a feather?

So, do ideas really trump vested interests? Surely we're ruled by some combination of the two.

But the more I understand the weaknesses in the economists' dominant ideas about how the economy works and should work, the more I see what a bad predictor their model is, the more I wonder how such a flawed theory remains so dominant, largely impervious even to stuff-ups as monumental as the Great Recession.

Then a terrible thought strikes: maybe their ideas remain so influential in politics and the community because they happen to suit the interests of the rich and powerful.

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Why economists didn't see the big crunch coming

Psychologists call it "framing". When rarely they think about it, economists call it "models". What it means is that our understanding of things and our reactions to them are heavily influenced by the way we choose to look at them.

Macro-economics - the idea that governments can manage the economy as it moves through the business cycle - has really only been going since World War II. But it involves a particular way of looking at national economies, a way heavily influenced by the priorities of John Maynard Keynes and his followers.

Economic variables come in two kinds: they're either "flows" or "stocks". When you watch something increasing or decreasing over a period of time you're watching a flow variable.

It might be your wage, which comes in every week over a year, or it might be your spending on groceries, which is added to every time you go to the supermarket over a period.

When you measure something at a point in time you're looking at a stock variable. It might be how much you've got in the bank on a particular day - June 30, for instance - or how much you owe the bank. Or you could get a real estate agent to value your house.

That value applies at the time it was assessed, but may not be accurate a few months later. So a stock value is like a photograph: it shows you what the world looked like at the moment the photo was taken.

If you know anything about company accounts, you know about flows and stocks. The profit and loss statement shows flows: the flow of sales over the period, the flow of expenses over the period and the profit or loss made over the period.

The balance sheet, on the other hand, shows stocks: the stock of assets owned by the business on the last day of the period, the stock of debts and other liabilities owed by the business on that day, with the difference between the two being the value of the business to its owners on that day.

Here's the point: from the start, macro-economists developed the habit of focusing on flows and taking little interest in stocks. They studied the economy-wide equivalent of the profit and loss statement - the components of gross domestic product - and ignored the balance sheet. (National balance sheets have been added to the national accounts only in recent years.)

Another way to put it is that economists tend to focus on the "real" economy of getting and spending, production and consumption, not on the "financial" economy of who owns and owes what - assets and liabilities.

Yet another kink in the way macro-economists look at the economy is that they focus on the demand side of the economy (what people are spending their money on, consumption or investment) rather than the supply side (the economy's capacity to produce goods and services for people to buy).

The rationale for this focus on the demand side is that governments can influence demand in the short run, but supply (the number of machines and factories, the size of the labour force and its degree of skill) can be influenced only in the longer run. Hence macro is called "demand management".

Why am I telling you all this? Because all these biases in the way economists tend to think about the economy help explain the global financial crisis - which the world's sharemarkets' recent reaction to developments in Europe shows isn't over - and why economists didn't see it coming.

The global financial crisis had its origins in the financial economy (which most macro-economists don't take a great interest in), but this inevitably damaged the real economy of spending and employment.

What's happening in Europe (and to a lesser extent the US) is that people are getting increasingly worried by governments' high and rapidly rising levels of debt. What happens if the financial markets lose confidence in governments' ability to repay their debts?

Debts are a stock, incurred as a consequence of deficits, which are a flow. You have to borrow to allow a deficit to be incurred during a period and that leaves you with a (higher) stock of debt at the end of the period.

Because deficits - budget deficits, trade deficits, current account deficits - are flows, they're part of the purview of macro-economists. But deficits matter only because they add to debt levels, and if it's not your practice to take much interest in debt (because it's a stock) you face a great temptation not to worry too much about deficits, not to be aware of how they're starting to mount up.

Economists didn't cause the public debt build-up. It was caused by politicians pandering to electorates that want more and more government spending, but don't want to pay higher taxes. But economists, with their focus on annual flows, failed to raise the alarm over mounting debt levels.

Then you have a global financial crisis that threatens to bring down the banking system and the real economy with it. You have no choice but to borrow heavily to prop up the banks and borrow again to try to get the economy moving.

One small problem: put all that borrowing on top of already high levels of public debt and suddenly everyone in the financial markets is worried about "sovereign risk" and whether you'll be able to repay your debts.

(That some of the people now carrying on about governments' huge debts were the same people whose reckless behaviour - and accumulation of huge levels of private debt - required the government to bail them out, allows you to call them rude names but not to ignore their ability to bring down those governments.)

Urged on by financial-side economists, governments in Europe are seeking to stave off a possible loss of financial market confidence in those governments' ability to repay their debts by slashing their spending and raising taxes, even while their economies are weak and the austerity programs will make them weaker.

But Keynesian macro-economists are appalled by this and locked in a furious debate with the financial economists. The financial guys are saying it's stocks (of public debt) that matter most and they must be cut at whatever cost; the macro guys are saying it's flows of spending and production that matter most, and to cut them now is madness.

Thankfully, our Liberal Party's obsession with budget deficits and debts has left us in the clear.

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The economy's animal spirits

John Maynard Keynes first recognised it when seeking to explain why the Great Depression happened even though the economic theory of the time said it couldn't. But it's taken the global financial crisis to help us rediscover that truth: the main reason economies fluctuate as they do is the changing psychology of the people who compose the economy.

Keynes called this our "animal spirits", which is the title of a book by George Akerlof, a Nobel laureate in economics, and Robert Shiller, a leading proponent of behavioural finance.

Why isn't Keynes widely recognised for what he was: the first behavioural economist? Because his followers - notably Sir John Hicks, another Englishman - quickly suppressed that part of Keynes's explanation for the Depression in their efforts to make Keynesian thinking more acceptable to economists steeped in the neo-classical assumption that economic actors (you and me) always act rationally (with carefully calculated self-interest) and never emotionally or instinctively.

Hicks and others preferred to explain the Depression by means of the newly invented Keynesian "multiplier" so they could do what they thought mattered most, win support for Keynes's key policy prescription: the use of government spending to stimulate demand when it was deficient.

These days, the term animal spirits is usually used to refer to business and consumer "confidence", as measured by, for example, the Westpac-Melbourne Institute index of consumer sentiment and the NAB survey of business confidence.

But Akerlof and Shiller point out that "animal" means "of the mind" or "animating". So they take the term to refer to all our non-economic, non-rational emotions and motivations. Their point is that though these motivations have been defined as non-economic (and thus have been excluded from the conventional, neo-classical model of the economy), that doesn't stop them having a considerable influence over our economic behaviour.

The truth is that, even with a multiplier built in, the neo-classical model can't explain why market economies have always moved in cycles of boom and bust. It simply assumes the economy is always at full employment. But the changing moods and attitudes of the humans who make up the economy can explain the business cycle.

Akerlof and Shiller acknowledge confidence as the cornerstone of animal spirits, but argue they have four other components: fairness, corruption and bad faith, money illusion and stories. These other elements are needed to adequately explain the economy's ups and downs, and catastrophic events such as the global financial crisis.

Conventional economics assumes that when businesses or individuals make significant investment decisions they consider all the options available to them and all the possible monetary outcomes, they attach probabilities to each outcome, multiply the two together and then add them up to get the "expected benefit". If it's high enough, they go ahead with the project.

But often the probabilities are no more than educated guesses. So whether the project goes ahead often depends on how confident people feel about the prospects for the economy and their project, whether they're in an optimistic or pessimistic mood.

Concerns about fairness are excluded from the conventional model, but not from the motivations of economic actors. Questionnaires show most people regard it as unfair for a business to raise the price of umbrellas on a wet day (a behaviour economists regard as rational), but fair for it to raise prices when its costs have increased.

Sociologists tell us there are behavioural "norms" that describe how people think they and others should behave in particular circumstances. We get angry when people fail to conform to norms and this anger may have adverse consequences for businesses.

One area where perceptions of fairness are very much to the fore is in the setting of wages. Workers get angry when there's any suggestion of their wages being cut (even though they may well accept a fall in their real wages if economic conditions seem to warrant it).

Employers' inability to cut nominal wages when there's a fall in the demand for their product means downturns in the economy lead to more unemployment than they would if wages and prices were more flexible (as the model assumes).

Most recessions involve corporate corruption scandals and instances of "bad faith" (people behaving in ways that are unethical but not illegal).

The business cycle is connected to fluctuations in personal commitment to principles of good behaviour and to fluctuations in predatory activity, which in turn is related to changes in opportunities for such activity.

"Money illusion" means people base their economic decisions on "nominal" monetary amounts, failing to allow for the effect of inflation. But one of the most important assumptions of modern economics (where "modern" means it has reverted to the neo-classical assumptions that prevailed before the Keynesian revolution) is that people always see through the "veil" of inflation and compare prices in real terms.

The obvious truth is that sometimes people allow for inflation and sometimes they don't. Or, they do to an extent, but not completely. If so, this causes them to behave in ways contrary to those predicted by the conventional model.

The human mind is built to think in terms of narratives, of sequences of events with an internal logic and dynamic that appear as a unified whole. And much human motivation comes from living through a story of our lives that we tell ourselves.

The same is true for confidence in a nation, a company or an institution. Great leaders are first and foremost creators of stories.

High confidence tends to be associated with inspirational stories, stories about new business initiatives, tales of how others are getting rich.

"New era" stories (such as that the internet has brought us to a new era of profit and prosperity) have tended to accompany the major booms in sharemarkets around the world.

So ends Akerlof and Shiller's list of all the main "non-economic" things that are in our minds and that influence our economic behaviour, but aren't in the conventional model.

"If we thought that people were totally rational, and that they acted almost entirely out of economic motives, we too would believe that government should play little role in the regulation of financial markets, and perhaps even in determining the level of aggregate demand," they say.

"But, on the contrary, all of those animal spirits tend to drive the economy sometimes one way and sometimes another. Without intervention by the government the economy will suffer massive swings in employment.

"And financial markets will, from time to time, fall into chaos."

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