Why the planet needs the economy to go round in circles

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

For as long as humans have walked the earth, we’ve grappled with this dilemma: how to satisfy our unlimited wants and needs with limited resources. Eventually, people started putting pen to paper, and called the study of this problem “economics.”

Over time, we’ve become better at making – and doing – more: by piecing together machines that can dig more out of the ground, stripping the soil, and producing all sorts of foods, gadgets and shelter. Our ancestors would be shocked walking through the supermarket, and trawling online, at the seemingly infinite choices at our fingertips today.

But all this has come at a cost – which we haven’t been particularly good at factoring in.

For the past few centuries, we’ve measured our success, economically speaking, mostly by how much we’re able to produce. The bigger the amount (often measured by gross domestic product (GDP). the better.

In simply prioritising greater output, though, we’ve been pumping out emissions, producing massive amounts of waste and damaging land and waterways. We’ve been scoring own goals, even as we press forward in this seemingly never-ending game of producing more.

Now, the solution isn’t necessarily to rewind the work we’ve done. But it does pay to look back in time. For many indigenous communities, it has been the case for millennia that people take only what they need, leaving enough for remaining resources to regenerate, and reusing and repairing things rather than tossing them away.

These principles are also at the heart of the concept of a “circular economy”.

Our economy now is mostly “linear”, meaning we tend to take raw materials from the earth, make things out of them, then pretty quickly dispose of them when those things start falling apart. A lot of the valuable materials we take from the land end up buried in landfill or drifting around in the atmosphere or our oceans – which, apart from harming the environment, is a problem when we’re on a planet with limited resources.

Now, most of us have a decent understanding of recycling. You probably divvy-up your hard plastics from your soft plastics, and you might even have a compost bin or worm farm.

Australia’s overall material recycling rate in the 2021–22 period was about 63 per cent – or 1568 kilograms of recycled material for each person, up from 57 per cent in 2011-12. It’s an industry which added roughly $5 billion in value to the Australian economy, more than 30,000 jobs, and paid over $2.5 billion in wages and salaries in 2021-22. And there’s room to grow.

But the circular economy starts long before we decide to toss things out. It’s about designing things in ways that create less waste: from the process of making them (how can we limit by-products like carbon dioxide when building a house, or make a car using less material?) to designing goods that last the distance, or run more efficiently (how can we make T-shirts that hold their shape for years, or planes that run on less fuel and cough out fewer emissions?)

It’s also about a mindset shift – which could actually make us happier. In our consumption-led economy (household spending drives more than half of our economic growth), it’s easy to fall into the trap of buying things. Ads spruiking that thing you really need are everywhere. Whether it’s the newest iPhone, that cute outfit you’ve been eyeing up, or that power tool which will definitely complete your collection, the dopamine hit when you walk away with a new item is a fuzzy feeling many of us are familiar with.

But that excitement tends to wane over time, buyer’s remorse can creep in, and we often end up with a lot of clutter which we compare to other people’s clutter and fall into an endless cycle of sorting through.

Being more conscious about our purchases, buying things that are made sustainably, and thinking about how to extend the life of our possessions, are good places to start. “Buy Nothing” groups where people give away things they no longer need, and repairing things rather than throwing them away, are ways we can save money and feed into this circular economy.

The way we consume things is undeniably a game-changer. But the government and the country’s businesses also have a role. In October 2022, Australia’s environment ministers committed to speeding up the transition to a circular economy by 2030.

This week, the Productivity Commission opened up its desk to submissions for its inquiry into Australia’s opportunities in the circular economy. Requested by Treasurer Jim Chalmers, the inquiry will look into ways Australia can “improve materials productivity and efficiency in ways that benefit the economy and the environment.”

While we’ve tended to fixate on how we can improve the productivity of workers, international studies suggest a more circular economy can lead to higher economic growth and productivity, largely by boosting how productive we are with our inputs: essentially making more with a given amount of raw materials.

Australia has the fourth-lowest rate of materials productivity among OECD countries, generating $US1.20 of economic output for each kilogram of materials we consume. That’s less than half of the OECD benchmark of $US2.50.

Of course, it’s important to remember Australia is a bit of an outlier. We’re a highly resources-driven economy, with vast amounts of land separating us from our cows, sheep, mines and one another. While we can make transport less wasteful, achieving 100 per cent circularity is practically off the table.

Moving towards a more circular economy, though, is a worthwhile exercise – and one we’ve been making progress towards. Our material productivity has increased from $1.45 generated from a kilo of materials in 2010, to nearly $1.60 a kilogram in 2023, and we’re generating a bit less waste per person than we were a couple of decades ago.

Since the industrial revolution, we’ve rapidly fattened up our economy by pumping out products and consuming more. While going around in circles is generally a bad thing, the best way forward might be just that.

Read more >>

How GPT (not that one) could help fix our inflation problem

By Millie Muroi, Economics Writer

ChatGPT is not the answer to Australia’s productivity problem. At least, not yet.

But I asked ChatGPT what its chances were of productivity improving in Australia – if it was a betting man. The answer? 70 to 80 per cent.

Productivity growth excites economics nerds, like those at the Reserve Bank ... and just about no one else. But it matters for everything from your mortgage to the prices you pay at shops and the quality of your life.

Why? Because productivity growth means being able to make more with what we have, which is the best solution to the biggest economic issue of our time: inflation.

After all, there are two sides to this inflation problem: too much demand and too little supply. Instead of the Reserve Bank beating down our appetite for goods and services through ramping up interest rates, wouldn’t it be nice if businesses could simply produce more with the workers and equipment they already had, therefore keeping prices in check?

We could work longer hours and maybe even put our machines under more strain, but we can only do that for so long: it would be like trying to run a marathon at sprinting speed.

That doesn’t mean we should abandon all hope.

Instead, to curb price rises, and to lift our living standards over time, we need to improve productivity. Like a marathon runner improving their running technique, we need a way to get faster or better at what we do. A crucial way of doing this is through discovering and using new technology that helps us pump out more, or better quality, goods and services, in a way that can be maintained.

The most influential of these tools (those that have transformed the way we live) are called General-Purpose Technologies – or GPTs for short. The steam engine, cars, electricity and the internet all count as GPTs, because they were widely adopted and became crucial pieces of technology which dramatically yanked up our productivity.

We may not consciously think about it. But imagine what our lives would look like today without electricity, internet and cars. We would be slower, have much less information at our fingertips and would find it harder to work once the sun sets.

As Andrew Leigh points out in his book The Shortest History of Economics, the journey to create the electric bulb itself shows how our productivity has improved. In prehistoric times, producing as much light as a regular household lightbulb using wood fire would have taken our ancestors about 58 hours of foraging for wood. Today, it takes less than a second of work to earn enough to flick a household light bulb on for an hour.

ChatGPT is an example of a tool that could become a general-purpose technology. But the “GPT” in its name actually stands for “generative pre-trained transformer”: a fancy way of saying a piece of software trained using huge amounts of data to offer up human-like answers to questions like mine.

During the pandemic, there was a short-lived surge in the take-up of cloud computing (IT services that businesses can use without owning or running the physical servers, hard drives and networks required themselves). But generally, Australian businesses are behind the curve when it comes to adopting new technologies – and we don’t develop much of it ourselves.

That doesn’t mean we should abandon all hope. Instead, we need to think about the drivers of, and barriers to, adopting technologies such as cloud computing and artificial intelligence: two GPTs in the making.

Kim Nguyen and Jonathan Hambur at the Reserve Bank say these technologies could alter the way we do business. But knowing how to use and make the most of them also requires highly skilled and educated workers.

A website called ChatGPT is raising questions about the role of artificial intelligence in our education, work and relationships.

Nguyen and Hambur’s research involved trawling through the annual reports, job ads and earnings calls of Australian businesses to figure out how much workers’ and managers’ skills matter when it comes to successful adoption of GPTs.

Here’s what they found. Firms which had snagged a board member with experience in the IT industry were 30 percentage points more likely to adopt a GPT. While there were certainly businesses which took up GPT without a technologically skilled board member on their team, these firms generally failed to see much improvement in their profitability after putting a GPT in place.

Basically, having board members with relevant technological experience has been linked to more profitable use of GPT. Of course, the authors point out this could be because firms that appoint technology-savvy board members tend to be more focused on IT in the first place, and therefore more likely to be able to adopt GPT in a way that increases profitability.

But firms with technologically skilled board members were also more likely to look for workers with GPT skills, indicating those workers might also play an important role in profitable GPT adoption. Whatever the exact link, uptake of GPT is linked to higher demand for skilled workers, meaning education and training will be key to nailing the use of these technologies.

While the Reserve Bank’s toolkit is limited to setting interest rates (and, informally, jawboning) the less painful solution to getting inflation under control is to improve our productivity, and therefore the amount of goods and services to go around.

Productivity growth is difficult to measure, and quarter-to-quarter movements can be rocked by things that have little to do with anything. But it has flattened out in recent months, and without productivity growth to match, wages, which have begun to pick up in recent times, will worry the Reserve Bank and may build the case for the Reserve Bank to keep interest rates higher for longer.

ChatGPT has hit the headlines over the past year: from students using it in a bid to boost their marks and to some media companies relying on it to churn out AI-generated content. While it’s yet to join the ranks of coveted general-purpose technologies, ChatGPT is an example of innovation which could turn out to be a game-changer.

Right now, it’s an imperfect tool being put to use by an inexperienced user (me). But I asked ChatGPT if it could write a better opinion piece, and faster than I could. The answer? “I’d love to give it a try!” 

Read more >>

Why the Reserve Bank thinks it's too soon to cut interest rates

By Millie Muroi, Economics Writer 

When the Reserve Bank’s second-in-command – recently appointed deputy governor Andrew Hauser – took shots at his closest observers this week, he ruffled plenty of feathers.

“It’s a world of winners and losers, gurus and charlatans, geniuses and buffoons,” he proclaimed. Then he wagged a finger at those confidently commentating from the sidelines on the direction of the economy. “It’s a dangerous game,” he warned.

We know economists – including those at the Reserve Bank – are notoriously bad at knowing exactly what we (and therefore the economy) will do. So, why was Hauser so mad at those confidently making their own calls?

Brash statements made by the media, government and economists have real-world consequences. People often rely on that information to make decisions, from taking out mortgages to negotiating wages.

“What about Phil Lowe?” you may ask. Didn’t the former RBA governor promise in 2021 that interest rates would not go up until 2024? Well, sort of. It was actually couched in caveats which many people glossed over.

The Reserve Bank generally treads carefully because the words of its bosses can shift behaviour: a hidden weapon beyond its interest rate-setting superpower.

RBA governor Michele Bullock often declares she is “not providing forward guidance” when fielding questions from journalists trying to get a steer on interest rates. But last week, she gave the closest thing to guidance in a while: people’s expectation for rate cuts in the next six months doesn’t align with the RBA board’s feeling, she said. At least, “not at the moment.”

In doing so, Bullock flexed the bank’s hidden bicep. She signalled for all of us to rein in our expectations of a rate cut and, she would have hoped, our inflation expectations.

This is important because what people believe can become reality. If we expect inflation to stay high, this belief can feed into the wages we ask for, and the prices businesses charge.

That’s not to say the Reserve Bank doesn’t believe its own thinking. The only medicine it can explicitly prescribe is the level of interest rates, but the central bank busies itself with a lot of data gathering, discussions and number crunching to diagnose the state of the economy.

Core to the Reserve’s thinking is its observation that, collectively, we are consuming more than we can produce for an extended period of time. Sure, young people and mortgage holders have been tightening their belts as housing costs surge. But that’s been more than offset by older, affluent Australians splurging on things such as travel, by population growth and by government spending.

Now, the government has bones to pick with any suggestion that its spending is contributing to inflation. And Government Services Minister Bill Shorten this week trashed RBA chief economist Sarah Hunter’s assessment that the economy is “running a little bit too hot”.

However, it is important to note Hunter’s view isn’t necessarily that Australians are doing too well, or that the economy is bubbling along. It’s more a reflection of the limited spare capacity we have to cater for the spending – however little or much of it we may be doing.

We’re spending “too much” mostly by comparison to the limited resources we have to keep up with it: the people making our coffee in the morning and machines they use to brew it for us, for example.

Unless we become more productive, making more with the things we already have, the more we strain people and machines to meet our demands, and the pricier things will be to produce.

Productivity is especially difficult to improve for sectors such as hospitality, which rely heavily on people rather than machines (there’s only so many ways your barista can brew a coffee faster and better). And it’s why services inflation is proving so much more stubborn than goods inflation.

How does the Reserve Bank know how much spare capacity we have (and therefore how much pressure we might expect on prices)? It looks at something called the output gap: the difference between how much we’re producing and how much we could produce without putting too much pressure on prices.

Heaven for the Reserve Bank would be an output gap of zero. Any lower means we’re not using our resources as intensively as we could – including people who want to work, but can’t find jobs, or machines sitting idle.

Any higher, and we’re using our resources too intensively. This can be OK for a short period, but as workers demand higher wages, machines are run into the ground and businesses compete for a shrinking pool of resources, prices rise. For the past few years, this is the state the Reserve Bank thinks our economy has been in.

Measuring the output gap is tricky. We can’t really see it, and our capacity can change over time as our population changes, or we find better ways to do things. So, how does the RBA measure it?

How much the economy is producing is measured through statistics such as Gross Domestic Product. The trickier task is pinning down how much the economy could produce without adding to inflation. To do this, the Reserve Bank uses economic models which spit out results based on things such as what’s happened in the past and the data plugged into them: relatively straightforward numbers such as population, as well as educated assumptions about other factors influencing the economy.

The bank also asks businesses about their capacity usage through surveys and by chatting with them through its liaison program. Then, there’s also the inflation figure itself.

While the output gap is just one gauge, it is given considerable weight in the Reserve Bank’s decisions. So far, the gap is narrowing, the bank says, but it’s likely we’re still pushing our resources past the ideal level to pull inflation back into line.

There’s not much the central bank can do to increase potential output, or capacity, in the economy, which is why it is instead focusing on weakening our demand, or spending.

While a rate cut now would be like an iron infusion for an anaemic economy, help preserve jobs, and bring mortgage holders relief, the bank is clearly on the warpath against its public enemy number one: inflation.

Keep in mind, though, no one is perfect. The Reserve Bank is careful to stress that the output gap, like most of its other measures, is “subject to considerable uncertainty.”

Read more >>

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read more >>

It's not perfect, but our health system is one of the best

When it comes to self-belief, Australians are funny. We have no doubt that Australia punches well above its weight in almost every sport. And our Diggers are braver and more dependable than the rest. In other departments, however, we don’t rate ourselves highly.

Australians pay among the lowest taxes of all developed nations, but the belief that we’re among the highest taxed is so widely believed it’s impervious to facts.

Take the latest headline that we’ve been “flattened by the biggest tax increase in the world”. “There, I knew it,” I hear you mutter. Well, not quite.

It’s true, as the story said, that in 2023 working Australians suffered the biggest increase in their average tax rates in the developed world, according to figures issued by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development.

The increase was caused by bracket creep and the Morrison government’s sneaky decision to end the “low- and middle-income tax offset” (a move that never made it to a press release, meaning most of the media didn’t notice and didn’t tell their audience about).

But that doesn’t in any way confirm our belief that we’re highly taxed. It may have been true last year, but it will be far from true this year as the huge stage 3 tax cuts take effect in July.

Nor is it confirmed by the repeated assertion that we are more dependent on income tax than any of the other OECD countries. This is literally true, but only because, unlike almost all the others, we don’t impose separate social security contribution taxes on the incomes of workers and employers.

The more important point, however, is that so far we’ve been talking only about the biggest and most noticeable of our taxes, personal income tax. Surely you don’t think that’s the only tax we pay?

What about a little thing called the goods and services tax? (Or, to other rich countries bar the United States, value-added tax.) Our tax rate of 10 per cent is way lower than even the Kiwis’, let alone all the Europeans’. They’re up in the 20s.

No, all told, we pay less tax than almost all the others. But how would you rate us on, say, healthcare? My guess is most people’s answer would be, at best, nothing to write home about.

Wrong. We keep hearing about problems with Medicare, but every country’s healthcare system has its shortcomings. New research by the Productivity Commission – hardly known for its boosterism – has found that our health system “delivers some of the best value for money of any in the world”.

The commission has been measuring the productivity of our healthcare system – roughly, what we get for what we pay – and, for the first time, taking account of changes in the quality of that care.

In principle, the system covers all our spending on healthcare: public and private; hospitals, GPs and specialists, whether paid for by taxpayers, health insurance or directly out of our pockets.

Over this century, our total spending on healthcare has risen from 8 per cent of national income to about 10 per cent – meaning it’s grown much faster than the economy has, including the growth in our population.

The continued rise in the average age of our population, the growing burden of chronic diseases and our expectations that governments will keep spending more to improve our health means our spending on healthcare will continue to grow faster than on most other things.

This being so, it’s important to check that the increased spending is leading to better health. The researchers were able to check the performance of only part of the system: the treatment of cancers, cardiovascular diseases, blood and metabolic disorders, endocrine (organs and glands) disorders, and kidney and urinary diseases.

These account for about a third of healthcare spending. The study found that, after allowing for changes in quality, the “multifactor” (that is, combining labour and physical capital) productivity of this care improved by about 3 per cent a year over the six years to 2017-18.

If that doesn’t impress you, it should. It compares with productivity improvement of just 0.8 per cent a year in the whole market sector of the economy.

Importantly, all the healthcare improvement came from improved quality in the treatment of ailments. This arose from technological advances in how they are treated, rather than from simply doing more with less. And the gain was in lives saved rather than the reduced illness of people living with those diseases.

But here’s the kicker. When the commission compared the level of our productivity with that of 27 other rich countries (after allowing for differences in risk factors, such as obesity – the big one – smoking, diet, alcohol and age) it found we came third, beaten only by Iceland and Spain.

Coming a distant last was the United States. The Yanks win two prizes: one for the most expensive system, the other for coming last on value for money. Why? Because their system is designed to maximise medicos’ incomes. At which they take away another prize.

Read more >>

Good news: our falling productivity is too bad to be true

There are few aspects of the economy on which more bulldust is spoken than our productivity. The world abounds with people trying to tell us that our productivity performance is a real worry and the way to fix it is to cut their taxes or give them a government handout. Yeah, sure.

These snake oil salesmen (and they’re almost always men) have been having a field day lately. Did you know that last financial year, 2022-23, the productivity of our labour actually fell by 3.7 per cent?

Fortunately, some sense arrived this week. The Productivity Commission issued its annual productivity bulletin, providing “the most complete picture to date of the drivers of Australia’s productivity decline over 2022-23,” it said. We now have a clearer understanding of what’s behind the slump, we’re told.

But first, let’s be sure you know what productivity is. It’s a comparison of the economy’s output of goods and services – measured by real gross domestic product – relative to our inputs of raw materials, labour and physical capital (machines, buildings, roads, bridges and so forth).

Our productivity improves when we use the same quantity of inputs to produce a greater quantity of outputs. In other words, it’s a measure of our efficiency.

We can improve our technical efficiency by inventing better machines for workers to work with, thinking of better ways to organise our mines, farms, factories and offices, increasing the skills of our workers, and having the government provide us with better roads and public transport to go about our business.

Usually, we focus on the productivity of our labour, measured by dividing real GDP during a period by the total number of hours employees and bosses worked during the period.

Over the past 28 years, the productivity of our workers increased at the average rate of 1.3 per cent a year. This improvement, when passed on to workers as higher “real” wages – wages growing faster than prices – is the main reason our material standard of living is much higher than our grandparents enjoyed.

The productivity of our labour generally improves a bit almost every year. It can fall a little during recessions, but it’s never fallen by anything like as much as 3.7 per cent. Which may mean the world’s coming to an end, but it’s more likely to mean there’s something funny going on with the figures.

The commission’s first revelation is that the number of hours worked during the financial year grew by an unprecedented 6.9 per cent, whereas the economy’s output of goods and services grew by 3 per cent. So, as a matter of simple arithmetic, our productivity worsened.

Now, before you jump to terrible conclusions, there are a few points to make. The first – which the commission didn’t make, but should have – is that one of the most basic things we expect the economy to do for us is to provide paid employment for all those of us who want to work.

And what happened last financial year is that a lot more people got jobs, and a lot of people working part-time got the extra hours of work they’d been seeking. It’s a safe bet that all those people being paid to work more hours were pleased to oblige.

So, before we beat ourselves up, we need to be clear that the unprecedented rise in hours worked was a good thing, not a bad thing. It was, in fact, part of the economy’s return to full employment for the first time in 50 years. That’s bad?

No, rather than cursing our bad luck or bad management, we should be asking questions: how on earth did that happen? It doesn’t make sense. Employers employ people to produce goods and services, not because they feel sorry for people who need a job.

So, if they increased their labour inputs by 6.9 per cent, how come their output of products increased by only 3 per cent?

When you hire more workers, you usually need to buy more tools and equipment for them to work with. If you don’t bother, then the extra workers won’t be as productive as your existing workers, and your average productiveness will fall.

The commission points out that businesses’ decisions to hire more workers didn’t lead them to acquire an equivalent amount of extra machines and other physical capital. The nation’s ratio of physical capital to labour fell by 4.9 per cent in the year – the biggest recorded decline in our history. “This meant on average, each worker had access to a shrinking amount of capital, which weighed down labour productivity,” it told us.

The point is, if you want productivity to improve, you need an increasing ratio of capital to labour. So, if businesses aren’t increasing their investment in capital equipment and structures sufficiently, don’t be surprised if productivity is getting worse rather than better.

But while I think it’s true that weak business investment is an important part of the explanation for our weak performance on labour productivity over the past decade, I don’t think it’s the reason productivity fell by 3.7 per cent last financial year.

No. One possibility is that while business has hired a lot more workers, it’s taking a bit longer for the increased investment and greatly increased output to come through. This is a common problem with the interpretation of changes in the economy over short periods. Wait a bit longer and the puzzle disappears.

But I think the true explanation is bigger than that – and so does the commission. It points out that, during the pandemic, measured productivity rose rapidly – mostly because high-productivity industries kept working, while low-productivity industries were locked down – but last financial year that measured gain disappeared.

Get it? COVID and our response to it, with lockdowns and economic stimulus, did strange things to the economy and to our measurements of it.

But by about June last year, the level of labour productivity was about the same as it was before the pandemic. We didn’t get much productivity improvement, but nor did we go backwards.

Read more >>

Two-class school system a great way to entrench low productivity

In 2011, the Gonski report recommended that government funding of schools be needs-based and sector-blind. More than 12 years later, it still hasn’t happened. And it’s by no means certain it will happen any time soon.

The idea of sector-blind schooling – funding all students according to their needs, rather than their religion – fell at the first hurdle. Sectarianism has bedevilled attempts to ensure all our kids get a decent education since the introduction of compulsory schooling in 1880.

And so fearful of the religious vote are both major parties that this time’s been no different. Providing adequate funding for the more disadvantaged kids congregated in public schools could have been a simple matter of redistributing money from privileged private schools, but no.

Former prime minister Julia Gillard was straight out of the blocks, promising that private schools would be left no worse off. That is, disadvantaged kids would be helped only to the extent that extra money could be found for education, at the expense of all the government’s other responsibilities.

So the private schools – almost all of them professing some religious affiliation – have retained their funding priority. It used to be a matter of Catholics and Protestants but, thanks to the Howard government’s introduction of a new education priority – giving parents greater choice of which school to send their kids to – it’s now also a matter of Jewish schools, Muslim schools, “Christian” schools (code for the smaller non-conformist Protestant denominations) and soon, no doubt, Hindu schools and Buddhist schools.

If you wonder why the eternal enmities of the Middle East are echoed in faraway Australia, that’s part of the reason. “Choice” is a nice idea but, from the taxpayers’ perspective, it comes at a cost. Public schooling used to be part of the way we could be multicultural and still socially cohesive.

Now we’re paying more for it to be less so. Now, if you choose to have your kid grow up never having rubbed shoulders with people of other religions, that’s another service the taxpayer provides.

Except that it involves a monetary cost we’re reluctant to pay, and our politicians are reluctant to make us pay. How to square the circle? I know, let’s short-change the (majority of) kids still going to public schools.

But not to worry. The more things keep going the way they are, the fewer kids will be left going to public schools and the less the pollies will have to worry about the raw deal they’re getting.

We’ll have more kids leaving education with inadequate numeracy and literacy, of course, but who’ll notice that – or the extra cost to the budget – when we’ll all be so busy listening to the Business Council giving yet another sermon on the pressing need to reverse our declining productivity by cutting the company tax rate.

The beauty of a new plan to have most kids going to private schools – whether their parents can afford it or not – while only the kids of the rock-bottom poor are still going to public schools is that it’s self-reinforcing.

The more the better-paid and better-educated shift their children to private schools, the more those who are left will scrimp and save to join them.

And don’t forget this: public schooling is the default setting. One of the ways private schools maintain their reputation for greater discipline is to decline students with special needs, and expel students who cause too much trouble.

The public schools have no choice but to pick up the rejects. This wouldn’t be such a problem if they were given the extra funds needed to cope with the extra problems. But depend on it: they won’t be. This will give parents even greater incentive to get their kids out of there.

The plan does have a big drawback, however. No parent ever wants to admit it but, for many of them, a great attraction of private schooling is the greater social status it confers on the parents, as well as the old-school-tie benefits it confers on the kids.

Economists see education as a prime example of a “positional good” – a product that advertises to the world your high position in the pecking order. Trouble is, social status requires exclusivity. The more kids pile into private schooling, the less exclusive it becomes.

Economists say the demand for a good or service is “inelastic” if a rise in its price does little to deter people from buying it. As a positional good, the demand for private schooling is highly inelastic.

This explains why, not content with the big government subsidies they receive, the oldest and most famous private schools can charge parents huge fees on the top. Their fees rise faster than the inflation rate year after year, even in years of a cost-of-living crisis.

It may be that, the more parents pile into the cheaper Catholic systemic and other private schools, the more the elite private schools have to raise their fees to retain their exclusivity – their status as a positional good.

And, of course, the higher their fees, the more desirous status-seeking parents are to be seen paying them. Only the Reserve Bank’s ability to print its own money beats that. Remind me, why exactly is the taxpayer subsidising elite private schools?

Economists also say education is a “superior” good, meaning that the higher people’s real incomes rise, to more of that income they’re willing to spend on the product. In theory, people are buying more education or higher quality education.

But I have a theory that two-income families are more likely to choose private school education to prove to themselves their kids aren’t missing out. If so, they’re victims of a rarely remarked economic fallacy: anything that costs more must be of higher quality.

Fallacious though such thinking may be, the rise of the two-income family helps explain the shift to private schools and suggests it has further to run. Yet another reason to question why the federal government is propping up private schools at the expense of public schools.

Since Gonski, the feds have calculated the “schooling resource standard”, an estimate of how much total government funding a school needs to meet its students’ educational needs. The previous federal government’s agreement with the states required it to contribute 80 per cent of the private schools’ standard, with the states contributing the remaining 20 per cent.

For public schools, it was the reverse: the states pay 80 per cent, while the feds pay 20 per cent. Since the feds’ taxing powers are far greater than the states’, this deal had an inbuilt bias in favour of private schools.

As it’s worked out in practice, almost all private schools are fully funded, with many being overfunded, whereas almost all public schools are still underfunded, more than 12 years since Gonski.

The Albanese government’s Education Minister Jason Clare is renegotiating the funding agreement with the state education ministers, who met with him on Friday. They’re demanding that he hasten the public schools’ achievement of full funding by raising the feds’ contribution to 25 per cent.

You’d expect a Labor government to care about public school students getting a decent education. We’ll soon find out if it does.

Read more >>

Want better productivity? Start by ensuring our kids can read

The trouble with our economy is that there are so many things needing to be fixed, it’s hard to know where to start. And so many of them are urgent we don’t have time to fix things one at a time. But since the economy consists simply of all the workers and all the consumers – that is, all the people – one of my guiding principles is that governments should manage the economy for the many, not the few.

This may seem obvious but, during the decades of “neoliberalism” from which we’re still emerging, it became far from obvious. Neoliberalism is the doctrine that what’s good for BHP is good for Australia. We got used to listening with rapt attention when the top 100 or so chief executives told us what needed to be done to improve productivity.

It took us too long to realise that their idea of a well-functioning economy was one where their incomes grew considerably faster than ours. They’re still at it, not having realised that we’ve stopped listening.

They’re arguing again that the most important thing we need is major tax reform – which, when you inquire, turns out to mean they’d pay less tax while we paid more.

No. I’m far more persuaded by this week’s report from Dr Jordana Hunter and Anika Stobart of the Grattan Institute, arguing we should start at the bottom, not the top, and make sure all our kids become confident readers as early as possible in their time at school.

If you’re building a house, you start by laying a firm foundation, and education should work the same way. Hunter says that in no area of education is improvement more urgent than reading. “Reading proficiency is a foundational skill that unlocks the broader curriculum and empowers young people to grasp opportunities for themselves,” she says.

Stobart says, “When children do not read fluently and efficiently in early primary school, it can undermine their future learning across all subject areas, harm their self-esteem, and limit their life chances.”

Students who struggle with reading are more likely to fall behind their classmates, become disruptive, and drop out of school. They are more likely to end up unemployed, or in poorly paid jobs, we’re told.

Why are they telling us this? Because last year’s NAPLAN testing results show that one in three Australian primary and secondary students cannot read proficiently. For Victorians, the news is better, sort of: a mere one in four.

But for Indigenous students, students from disadvantaged families, and students in regional and rural areas, it’s more than half. (Which makes you wonder why Barnaby Joyce and his National Party mates don’t have a lot more to say on public school funding.)

This appalling deficiency hasn’t just happened, it’s been going on for years without anyone making a fuss about it. Why is it happening? Hunter says the reason most of those students can’t read well enough is that we aren’t teaching them well enough.

“A key cause,” the report says, “is decades of disagreement about how to teach reading. But the evidence is now clear. The ‘whole-language’ approach, which became popular in the 1970s, doesn’t work for all students [including someone in my family years ago]. Its remnants should be banished from Australia’s schools.

“Instead, all schools should use the ‘structured literacy’ approach right through school, which includes a focus on phonics in the early years. Students should learn to sound out the letters of each word.”

Now, let’s be clear. I like teachers – especially those who tell students they must read my columns. So this is no attack on our hard-pressed teachers.

“The real issue here,” Hunter says, “is, are governments doing enough to set teachers up for success? The challenge is making sure best practice is common practice in every single classroom.”

But a key improvement is regular classroom testing, to ensure kids who are struggling get identified early and given extra help to catch up.

That, of course, takes extra money. But federal Education Minister Jason Clare is renegotiating the school funding agreement with the premiers. “The reading wars are over. We know what works,” he’s said. “The new agreement we strike this year needs to properly fund schools and tie that funding to the sort of things that work. The sort of things that will help children keep up, catch up and finish school.”

Economists often worry that the things you could do to make the economy fairer come at the expense of the economic efficiency that improves productivity. But ensuring our kids get off to a good start in life – including through early education, two years of pre-school and good literacy and numeracy – ticks both boxes.

It gives our kids better lives, it makes our workforce better skilled and more valuable, and it saves the budget a bundle in having fewer people who need special help.

Read more >>

The next thing on Albanese's to-do list: fix competition

In a capitalist economy, every capitalist professes to believe in stiff competition. In truth, it’s their biggest hate. Why? Because it limits their ability to put up prices and makes them work harder for their money.

Just this week, big business has been saying that, if only we could get proper tax reform – by which they mean lower taxes on companies and the highly paid – we’d get more productivity and more innovation.

In truth, what’s far more likely to improve innovation and productivity is stiffer competition, particularly in those many industries dominated by just a few giant corporations.

The federal government doesn’t have a minister for competition, but it does have an assistant minister: Dr Andrew Leigh, a former economics professor.

Last year, the Albanese government announced a rolling two-year review of competition and set up a taskforce within Treasury. It’s supported by an expert advisory panel with some big names: Dr Kerry Schott as chair, David Gonski, the former boss of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, Rod Sims, and the new boss of the Productivity Commission, Danielle Wood.

This week Leigh gave us an update on what the taskforce had been doing and discovering. But he started with a locker room pep talk on why competition is the key to making capitalism – or “the market system” as economists prefer to call it – benefit the customers more than the capitalists.

“Competition provides a check on unbridled profit-seeking by business. In a competitive market, innovators can bring new products and services to market, without fear of being shut down by entrenched monopolists,” he says.

Competition limits unearned privilege and seeks to treat everyone fairly. Competition guides labour and capital to their most valuable uses and combinations, driving the productivity improvement that underpins sustainable wages growth.

“For workers, genuine competition between businesses provides greater opportunities to switch jobs, allowing workers to make the most of their skills and secure better pay and conditions.”

“For consumers, competition provides more choices, allowing people to shop around and find better value products and services. Indeed, the most obvious benefit of competition is in delivering cheaper prices. There is no better tool than competition policy for keeping real prices down.”

And, Leigh adds, competition is also crucial if Australia is to make the most of the big shifts involved in digitisation, growth in the care economy and the transition to net zero carbon emissions.

But Leigh warns of “worrying signs the intensity of competition has weakened over recent decades, with evidence of increased market concentration and [profit margins] in several industries.”

“Other countries find themselves at similar crossroads and many are – like us – reviewing their competition policy settings,” he says.

Our taskforce is taking a fresh approach to competition policy: digging out and analysing large sets of data to understand what the problems are and help craft solutions to them.

The digital revolution is producing masses of “microdata” on what businesses are doing, while making it easier for statisticians to measure the growth in the economy earlier and more accurately.

It gives academic economists great ability to analyse what’s happening in particular industries, and gives the econocrats a better understanding of what and how to regulate the things business gets up to.

For the first time, the taskforce has developed a database that tracks company mergers throughout the whole economy. Believe it or not, it does this by looking at the flows of workers moving to different employers.

This will allow it to track the effects of mergers on the performance of businesses, on employment and on industry concentration – that is, fewer firms controlling more of a particular market.

The new database has already revealed three worrying things. First, because notifying the competition regulator the ACCC of an intended merger is voluntary, it hears of about 330 mergers a year, whereas there are between 1000 and 1500 mergers occurring annually.

Second, for the most part, it’s huge firms swallowing smaller firms, rather than medium and small firms joining. Get this: the largest 1 per cent of firms account for about half the acquisitions.

Larger companies made more acquisitions over the course of the 2010s. And mergers were most common in manufacturing, retail, professional services, and health and social services.

Third, the firms that are the targets of takeovers are more than twice as likely to own a patent and almost twice as likely to own a trademark.

Remember that patents give inventors a long-term legal monopoly over the use of some invention. So this finding raises the fear that at least some takeovers are motivated by a desire to gobble up an effective competitor, or may even be “killer acquisitions” aimed at killing inventions that threaten the profits of some big player.

Leigh says we can expect to hear more from the government this year on mergers and how they should be regulated. The taskforce issued a consultation paper in November asking for opinions on whether the present arrangements remain fit for purpose.

The ACCC has already proposed a significant increase in its power to block mergers considered likely to substantially lessen competition.

And, last December, the federal government secured agreement from the state treasurers to revitalise national competition policy and commit to developing an agenda for pro-competitive reforms.

Meanwhile, Leigh points to findings by British academics Geoff and Gay Meeks that reveal only one in five research papers find that the typical merger boosts the profits or the sharemarket value of the merged business.

They point out that mergers often boost the remuneration of the company’s managers, while leading to layoffs among workers.

Leigh acknowledges that mergers aren’t necessarily a bad thing, but the small number of proposed mergers that do raise competition concerns warrant close scrutiny.

He says that “for the sake of shareholders, workers and citizens, it is important to ensure that Australia’s regulatory system is not facilitating value-destroying mergers”.

Many of the nation’s chief executives may not agree with that, but most of the rest of us would.

Read more >>

Want better productivity? Cut population growth

A simple reading of orthodox economics tells you that the urge to maximise profits leads businesses to continuously improve the productivity of their activities. But, as former competition tzar Rod Sims has often reminded us, improving productivity is just one way to increase profits, and there are other ways to do it that are a lot easier.

One other way is to increase your share of the market by having a better product. Or better, coming up with a marketing campaign that merely cons people into believing your product is better.

Another way to increase market share is to undercut your competitors’ prices. But in oligopolies dominated by only a few big players, which many of our markets are, the threat of mutually damaging retaliation is so great that price wars are rare.

(This why the big four banks were so shocked and offended when the Macquarie group, a huge financial group with deep pockets and a small bank, decided recently to get itself a slice of the lucrative home loan market by offering below-market interest rates.)

Another way to increase profits is to take over a competitor. This may or may not increase profitability – percentage return on the share capital invested in the business – to the benefit of shareholders. But the managers of the now-bigger business will have to be paid commensurately higher wages and bonuses.

But the simplest, easiest way to increase profits? Sell into an ever-growing market. And how do you do that? Persuade the government to maintain a high rate of immigration. This is a mission on which big business has had great success in recent decades.

Polling shows the public does not approve of high immigration. With some justification, the punters tend to blame it for road congestion and rising housing costs.

But the Howard government and its Coalition successors did a roaring trade in keeping the punters’ disapproval focused on poor people who arrived uninvited on leaky boats, while they were quietly ushering in all the immigrants that business was demanding. These people arrived by plane, and so drew no media attention.

Is it mere coincidence that productivity improvement has been weak during the period in which immigration-driven population growth has been so strong? I doubt it, though of course, I’m not claiming this is the only factor contributing to weak productivity improvement.

While it makes self-interested, short-sighted sense for businesspeople to be so untiring in their clamour for ever more immigration, the strange thing is that the virtue of rapid population growth goes almost wholly unquestioned by the nation’s economists.

Population growth is an article of faith for almost every economist. For a profession that prides itself on being so “rational”, it’s surprising how little thinking economists do about the pros and cons of immigration. There’s little empirical evidence to support their unwavering commitment to high immigration, but they don’t need any evidence to keep believing what almost all of them have always believed.

Before we get to the narrowly economic arguments, let’s start with the bigger picture. The primary reason for doubting the sense of rapid population growth is the further damage every extra person does to the natural environment.

As the sustainable population advocates put it: too many people demanding too much of our natural environment.

Economists have gone from the beginning of their discipline assuming that the economy and the environment can be analysed in separate boxes. This further assumes that any adverse interaction between the two is so minor it can be safely ignored.

In an era of climate change and growing loss of species, this is clearly untenable. The economy and the natural environment that sustains it have to be joined up. But when it comes to population growth, these are dots the profession hasn’t yet joined.

Even on narrowly economic considerations, however, economists long ago stopped checking their calculations. It’s obvious that a bigger population means a bigger economy, and since economists are the salespersons of economic growth, what more do you need to know?

Well, you need to know that economic growth achieved merely through population growth leads to what the salespersons are promising the punters: a higher material standard of living. Simply, higher income per person.

If there is evidence higher population growth leads to higher income per person, I’ve yet to see it. I have seen a study by the Productivity Commission that couldn’t find any. And I have seen a study showing that the higher a country’s population growth, the lower its growth in gross domestic product per person.

But it doesn’t surprise me that the committed advocates of population growth don’t wave around any evidence they have to support their faith. What is well understood, though the advocates seem to have forgotten it, is that, whatever economic benefits immigration may or may not bring, it comes with inescapable economic costs.

Which are? That every extra person dilutes our existing per-person investment in business equipment and structures, housing stock and public infrastructure: schools, hospitals, police stations, roads and bridges, and much else.

In other words, every extra person requires us to spend many resources on preventing this population growth from diminishing our economic and social capital per head, and thereby making us worse off.

Economists call this “capital widening”, as opposed to “capital deepening”, which means providing the population with more capital equipment and infrastructure per person.

Trouble is, there’s a limit to how much the nation can save – or borrow from overseas – to finance our investment in housing, business equipment and structures, and public infrastructure. So resources we have to devote to capital widening, thanks to population growth, are resources we can’t devote to the capital deepening that would increase our standard of living.

Using immigration to raise our living standards is like trying to go up a down escalator. You have to run just to stop yourself going backwards. This is smart?

In practice, it’s worse than that. There’s a big government co-ordination problem. It’s the federal government that’s responsible for immigration levels, and that collects most of the taxes the immigrants pay, but it’s mainly the state governments that are lumbered with organising the extra housing and building the extra sewers, roads, transport, schools, hospitals and other facilities needed to avoid congestion and overcrowding.

Another thing to remember is that the easier you make it for businesses to get the skilled workers they need by bringing them in from abroad, the more you tempt them not to go to the expense and inconvenience of bothering with apprentices and trainees.

This is why so many businesses were caught short when, during the pandemic, their access to imported skilled labour was suddenly cut off. No wonder they were shouting to high heaven about the need to reopen their access to cheap labour. A lot of it was actually unskilled labour from overseas students, backpackers and others on temporary visas, who are easy to take advantage of.

Have you joined the dots? If giving business what it wants – high immigration to grow the market and provide ready access to skilled and unskilled workers – hasn’t induced business to increase the productivity of its labour, why don’t we try the opposite?

Make it harder for business to increase profits without improving productivity and investing in training our local workforce. Of course, this would require us to value productivity improvement more highly than population growth.

Read more >>

Why our standard of living will be rising more slowly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read more >>

It's time for more sensible thinking on productivity

When will we tire of all the bulldust that’s talked in the name of hastening productivity improvement? We never do anything about it, but we do listen politely while self-appointed worthies – business people and econocrats, in the main – read us yet another sermon on the subject.

Trouble is, when the sermons come from big business – accompanied by 200-page reports with snappy titles – they boil down business lobby groups doing what lobby groups do: asking the government for special favours – aka “rent-seeking”.

You want higher productivity? It’s obvious: cut the company tax on big business, and give us a free hand to change our workers’ pay and conditions as we see fit.

When the sermons come from econocrats, they’re more like professional propagandising: calls for “reform” – often of the tax system – that are usually theory-driven and lacking empirical evidence that they really would have much effect on productivity.

What we get in place of genuine empiricism is modelling results. Models are a mysterious combination of mathematised theory, sprinkled with ill-researched estimates of elasticity and such like.

We’ve become so inured to all this sermonising that we’ve ceased to notice something strange: although in a market economy it’s the behaviour of business that determines how much productivity improvement we do or don’t get, any lack of improvement is always attributed to the government’s negligence.

This is where the business rent-seekers and the econocrat propagandists are agreed. The econocrats willingness to point at the government comes from the biases in their neoclassical theory, which assumes, first, that businesses always respond rationally to the incentives they face and, second, that government intervention in markets is more likely to make things worse than better.

Big business is happy to use this ideology to hide its rent-seeking. (If you wonder why neoclassical economics has been dominant for a century or two despite surprisingly little evolution, it’s partly because it suits business interests so well.)

The other strange thing we’ve failed to notice is that the modern obsession with the tax system and regulation of the labour market has crowded out all the economists’ conventional wisdom about what drives productivity improvement over the medium term.

But before we get to that wisdom, a health warning: there’s a famous saying in economics that the sermonisers have stopped making sure you know. It’s that, for economists, productivity is “a measure of our ignorance”.

Just as economists can calculate the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment”, and kid themselves it’s next to infallible, when you ask them why it’s gone up, or down, all they can do is guess at the reasons, so it is with calculations of productivity. Economists can’t say with any certainty why it’s up or why it’s down. They don’t know.

Even so, in the present opportunistic sermonising, all that the profession thought it knew has been cast aside.

Such as? That productivity improvement is cyclical and hard to measure. Recent quarterly results from the national accounts will probably change as better data come to hand, and the accounts are revised.

It’s true that the measured productivity of labour actually has fallen over the three years to June this year, but it’s likely this is, to a great extent, a product of the wild swings of the pandemic and its lockdowns. As Reserve Bank economists have argued, these effects should “wash out”.

It’s well understood that the main thing that improves the productivity of labour is employers giving their workers more and better machines to work with. But Australia’s level of business investment as a share of gross domestic product is low relative to other rich countries.

Growth in non-mining business investment has declined from the mid-2000s and stagnated over the past decade. It’s grown strongly recently, but it’s not clear how much of this is just tradies taking advantage of lockdown tax concessions to buy a new HiLux ute.

Point is, why do the sermonisers rarely acknowledge that weak business investment spending does a lot to help explain our weak productivity improvement?

Another factor that should be obvious is our recent strong growth in employment, the highest in about 50 years, with many people who employers wouldn’t normally want to employ, getting jobs. This will lower the workforce’s average productivity – but it’s a good development, not a bad one.

Again, why do the sermons never mention this?

Yet another part of the conventional wisdom it’s no longer fashionable to mention is the belief that productivity improvement comes from strong spending – by public and private sectors – on research and development. Have we been doing well on this over the past decade or so? I doubt it.

And, of course, productivity improvement comes from giving a high priority to investment in “human capital” – education and training.

So, why no sermons about the way we’ve gone for a decade or more stuffing up TAFE and vocational education, or the way school funding has given “parental choice” for better-off families priority over the funding of good teaching in public schools?

Too many of those sermons also fail to mention the small fact that all the other developed economies are experiencing similar weakness – suggesting that much of our poor performance is explained by global factors, not the failure of our government.

Related to this, the preachers usually compare our present performance with a much higher 30- or 40-year average, implying our weak performance is something new, unusual and worrying.

Or, we’re told that, whereas productivity improved at an annual rate of 2.1 per cent, over the five years to 2004, it worsened to 0.9 per cent over the six years to 2010, and improved only marginally to 1.2 per cent over the nine years to 2019, before the pandemic.

This is all highly misleading. The fact is that periods of weak improvement are more common than periods of strong improvement, which are rare.

Our period of unusually strong improvement from the late 1990s to the early noughties is paralleled by America’s strong period from 1995 to 2004, which the Yanks usually attribute to rapid productivity improvement in the manufacturing of computers, electronics and semiconductors.

We usually attribute our rare period of strong improvement to the belated effects of the Hawke-Keating government’s program of microeconomic reform. Maybe, but computerisation and the information revolution are a more plausible guess.

Either way, contrary to the sermonisers’ implicit claim that the present period of weak improvement is unusual, it may be closer to the truth that weakness is the norm, interspersed by occasional bursts of huge improvement, caused by the eventual diffusion of some new “general-purpose technology” – the next one likely to be generative AI.

Read more >>

AI will make or break us - probably a bit of both

Depending on who you talk to, AI – artificial intelligence – is the answer to the rich world’s productivity slowdown and will make us all much more prosperous. Or it will lead to a few foreign mega tech companies controlling far more of our lives than they already do.

So, which is it to be? Well, one thing we can say with confidence is that, like all technological advances, it can be used for good or ill. It’s up to us and our governments to do what’s needed to ensure we get a lot more of the former than the latter.

If all the talk of AI makes your eyes glaze (or you’re so old you think AI stands for artificial insemination), let’s just say that AI is about making it possible for computers to learn from experience, adjust to new information and perform human-like tasks, such as recognising patterns, and making forecasts and decisions.

Scientists have been talking about AI since the 1950s, but in recent years they’ve really started getting somewhere. It took the telephone 75 years to reach 100 million users, whereas the mobile phone took 16 years and the web took seven.

You’ve no doubt seen the fuss about an AI language “bot”, ChatGPT, which can understand questions and generate answers. It was released last year and took just two months to reach 100 million users.

This week the competition minister, Dr Andrew Leigh, gave a speech about AI’s rapidly growing role in the economy. What that’s got to do with competition we’ll soon see.

He says the rise of AI engines has been remarkable and offers the potential for “immense economic and social benefits”.

It “has the potential to turbocharge productivity”. Most Australians work in the services sector, where tasks requiring the processing and evaluation of information and the preparation of written reports are ubiquitous.

“From customer support to computer programming, education to law, there is massive potential for AI to make people more effective at their jobs,” Leigh says.

“And the benefits go beyond what shows up in gross domestic product. AI can make the ideal Spotify playlist for your birthday, detect cancer earlier, devise a training program for your new sport, or play devil’s advocate when you’re developing an argument.”

That’s the optimists’ case. And there’s no doubt a lot of truth to it. But, Leigh warns, “it’s not all upside”.

“Many digital markets have started as fiercely competitive ecosystems, only to consolidate [become dominated by a few big companies] over time.”

We should beware of established businesses asserting their right to train AI models on their own data (which is how the models learn), while denying access to that data to competitors or new businesses seeking to enter the industry.

Leigh says there are five challenges likely to limit the scope for vigorous competition in the development of AI systems.

First, costly chips. A present, only a handful of companies has the cloud and computing resources needed to build and train AI systems. So, any rival start-ups must pay to get access to these resources.

As well, the chipmaker Nvidia has about 70 per cent of the world AI chips market, and has relationships with the big chip users, to the advantage of incumbents.

Second, private data. The best AI models are those trained on the highest quality and greatest volume of data. The latest AI models from Google and Meta (Facebook) are trained on about one trillion words.

And these “generative” AI systems need to be right up-to-date. But the latest ChatGPT version uses data up to only 2021, so thinks Boris Johnson and Scott Morrison are still in power, and doesn’t know the lockdowns are over.

Which brings us, third, to “network effects”. If the top ride-hailing service has twice as many cars as its rival, more users will choose to use it, to reduce their waiting times. So, those platforms coming first tend to get bigger at the expense of their rivals.

What’s more, the more customers the winners attract, the more data they can mine to find out what customers want and don’t want, giving them a further advantage.

This means network effects may fuel pricing power, entrenching the strongest platforms. If AI engines turn out to be “natural monopolies”, regulators will have a lot to worry about.

Fourth, immobile talent. Not many people have the skills to design and further develop AI engines, and training people to do these jobs takes time.

It’s likely that many of these workers are bound by “non-compete” clauses in their job contracts. If so, that can be another factor allowing the dominant platforms to charge their customers higher prices (and pay their workers less than they should).

Finally, AI systems can be set up on an “open first, closed later” business plan. I call it the drug-pusher model: you give it away free until you get enough people hooked, then you start charging.

Clearly, the spread of AI may well come with weak competitive pressure to ensure customers get a good deal and rates of profit aren’t excessive.

Just as competition laws needed to be updated to deal with the misbehaviour of the oil titans and rail barons of 19th century America, so too we may need to make changes to Australian laws to address the challenges that AI poses, Leigh says.

The big question is how amenable to competition the development of AI is. In other, earlier new industries, competition arose because key staff left to start a competing company, or because it made sense for another firm to operate in a different geographic area, or because customers desired a variant on the initial product.

“But if AI is learning from itself, if it is global, and if it is general, then these features may not arise.” If so, concentration maybe more likely than competition.

Get it? If we’re not careful, a few foreign mega tech companies may do better out of AI than we do.

Read more >>

Productivity debate descends into damned lies and statistics mode

Last week we got a big hint that the economics profession is in the early stages of its own little civil war, as some decide their conventional wisdom about how the economy works no longer fits the facts, while others fly to the defence of orthodoxy. Warning: if so, they could be at it for a decade before it’s resolved.

Economists want outsiders to believe they’re involved in an objective, scientific search for the truth and are, in fact, very close to possessing it. In reality, they’ve long been divided by ideology – views about how the world works, and should work – which is usually aligned with partisan interests: capital versus labour.

You see this more clearly in America, where big-name “saltwater” (coastal) academic economists only ever work for Democrat administrations, while “freshwater” (inland) academics only work for the Republicans.

In the 1970s, the world’s economists argued over the causes and cures for “stagflation” – high inflation and high unemployment at the same time. Then, in the 1980s, we had a smaller, Australian debate over how worried we should be about huge current account deficits and mounting foreign debt, won convincingly by the academics, who told the econocrats to forget it – which they did.

Now, the debate is over the causes of the latest global surge in inflation. At a time when organised labour has lost its bargaining power, while growing industry “concentration” (more industries dominated by an ever-smaller number of big companies) has reduced the pressure from competition and increased the pricing power of big firms, is a lot of the recent rise in prices explained by businesses using the chance to increase their profit margins?

A related question is whether it remains true that – as business leaders, politicians and econocrats assure us almost every day – all improvement in the productivity of labour (output per hour worked) is automatically reflected in higher real wages.

And that’s the clue we got last week. The Productivity Commission issued a study, Productivity growth and wages – a forensic look, that concluded that “over the long term, for most workers, productivity growth and real wages have grown together in Australia”.

So, all the worrying that silly people (such as me) have been doing – that the workers are no longer getting their cut of what little productivity improvement we’ve seen in recent years – has been proved to be a “myth”.

For the national masthead that prides itself on being read by the nation’s chief executives, this was a page one screamer. Apparently, even though real wages are 4 per cent lower than they were 11 years ago, workers are getting “their fair share of pie”.

When workers’ real wages rise by less than the improvement in labour productivity, the study calls this “wage decoupling”. It says “it is important to get the facts right on wage decoupling. Unfortunately, debates about the extent of wage decoupling, its sources and its implications are often dogged by differences in the methods and data”.

“This is because analysts can pick and choose among a wide range of measures of real wage growth, and their choices can lead to different, sometimes misleading conclusions.”

This is very, very true. Trouble is, sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. The clear inference is that “the commission’s preferred measure” is the single correct way of measuring it, whereas all those who get different results to us are just picking the methodology that gives them the results they were hoping for.

Get it? I speak the objective truth; you are just fudging up figures to defend your preconceived beliefs about how the world works. Yeah, sure.

I hate to disillusion you, gentle reader, but this is what always happens in economics whenever some group says, “I think we’re getting it wrong.” They produce calculations to support their case, but some don’t like the idea, so they produce different calculations intended to refute it.

Because economics is factionalised, most debates degenerate into arguments about why my methodology is better than yours. That’s why a change in the profession’s conventional wisdom can take up to a decade to resolve. But intellectual fashions do change.

The study finds that the mining and agriculture industries – which account for only 5 per cent of workers – have experienced major wage decoupling over the past 27 years, but for the remaining 95 per cent of workers, in 17 other industries, the difference between productivity growth and real wage growth has been “relatively low”.

Sorry, but that’s my first objection. It’s not relevant to compare productivity growth by industry with real wage growth by industry. Some industries have high productivity, some have low productivity and, in much of the public sector, productivity can’t be measured.

Despite the things it suits the employer groups to claim, the reward held out to workers for at least the past 50 years has never been that their real wages should rise in line with their own industry’s productivity.

For reasons that ought to be obvious to anyone who understands how markets work, it’s never been promised that, say, carpenters who work in mining or farming should have rates of pay hugely higher than those who work in the building industry, while the real wages of carpenters working in general government should never have changed over the decades because their (measured) productivity has never changed.

It’s an absurd notion that could work only if we could enforce a rule that no one could ever change jobs in search of a pay rise.

No, as someone somewhere in the Productivity Commission should know, the promise held out to the nation’s employees has always been that economy-wide average real wages should and will rise in line with the trend economy-wide average improvement in the productivity of labour.

When you exclude the two industries that contribute most to the nation’s productivity improvement, it’s hardly surprising that what’s left is so small you can claim it wasn’t much bigger than the growth in most workers’ real wages.

Then you tell the punters that, over 27 years, they are less than 1 percentage point behind – a mere $3000 – where they were assured they would be.

The report finds – but plays down – that the national average real wage fell behind the national average rate of productivity improvement by an average of 0.6 percentage points a year – for 27 years.

That’s if you measure wages from the boss’s point of view (which is economic orthodoxy) rather than the wage-earner’s point of view. But I can’t remember hearing that fine print explained in the thousands of times I’ve heard heavies telling people that productivity improvement automatically flows through to real wages.

View wages from the consumer’s perspective, however, and the national average shortfall increases to 0.8 percentage points a year. And nor did anyone ever tell the punters that it may take up to 27 years for their money to arrive.

You guys have got to be kidding.

Read more >>

How to make sense of Treasury's latest intergenerational report

Our sixth intergenerational report envisages an Australia of fewer young people and more elderly, with slower improvement in living standards, climate change causing economic and social upheaval, aged and disability care becoming our fastest-growing industry, and home ownership declining, while we spend more defending ourselves from the threat of a rising China, real or imagined.

That does sound like fun, but remember this: just as I hope many of the predictions I make will be self-defeating prophecies – because people act to ensure they don’t happen – so it is with Treasury’s regular intergenerational reports.

They say, here’s the pencil sketch of the next four decades that we get when we assume present economic and demographic trends keep rolling on for 40 years, and that present government policies are never changed.

Get it? Intergenerational reports are Treasury’s memo to the government of the day, saying things will have to change. The memo to you and me says: you may hate change, but unless you let our political masters make changes, this is how crappy life may become.

Every intergenerational report comes to the same bottom line: if you think you won’t be paying more tax in future you must have rocks in your head.

The media can’t stop themselves from referring to the report’s findings as “forecasts”. Nonsense. Forecasts purport to tell you what will happen. These reports are “projections”: if we make a host of key assumptions about what will happen, plug them in the machine and turn the handle 40 times, this is what comes out.

Remembering that Treasury demonstrates almost annually its inability to forecast in late April what its own budget balance will be in just two months’ time, June 30, let’s not imagine that anything it tells us today about 2063 could prove close to the truth, except by chance.

This is no attack on Treasury. No one’s forecasts are less wrong than theirs. It’s just saying don’t let the false confidence of the economics profession fool you. Only God knows what the world will look like in 2063 – and she’s not telling.

We’re all peering through a glass darkly, doing the best we can to guess what’s coming around the corner. How many pandemics in the next 40 years? Treasury’s best guess: none. How many global financial crises? Best guess: none.

We know from experience that the economy rarely moves in straight lines for long, but the nature of Treasury’s mechanical projections is that most curves stay straight for 40 years. Unexpected things are bound to happen. Some will knock us off course only briefly; some may change our direction forever. Some will be bad; some will be good.

The report’s single most important assumption is the rate at which the productivity of labour will improve. Until now, Treasury has avoided argument by assuming that the average rate of improvement over the next 40 years will be its rate over past 30 years.

The first report in 2002 assumed a rate of 1.75 per cent, but in later reports it was cut to 1.5 per cent. Now it’s been cut to the seemingly less unrealistic 20-year average of 1.2 per cent.

This shift makes a big difference. The first report had living standards – measured as real gross domestic product per person – climbing 90 per cent in 40 years. This report has them climbing by only 57 per cent in the next 40.

Since this is only the second of the six intergenerational reports produced under a Labor government, it’s only the second that takes climate change seriously. The other four looked into the coming 40 years and didn’t see any consequences of climate change worth taking into account.

Labor’s first report, in 2010, had a lot to say about climate change, but this report attempts to measure its effect on the economy and the budget. It estimates that climate change will cause the level of real GDP in 2063 to be between $135 billion and $423 billion less than it would overwise have been, in today’s dollars.

The report’s title has always been a misnomer. If it lived up to its name, it would deal with the intergenerational transfer of income and wealth from the young to the old – an issue that deserves much more attention than it gets.

It would talk about the way our treatment of housing favours the elderly, and how the tax, spending and superannuation decisions of the Howard government, in particular, shifted income from the young to the old.

But no. The real reason it’s called the intergenerational report is that its main purpose is to bang on about the huge effect the ageing of the population – the rise in the population’s average age – will have on the federal budget (while ignoring any effects on the states’ budgets).

It’s here, however, that Rafal Chomik, of the ACR Centre of Excellence in Population Ageing Research at the University of NSW, has noted this overhyped story being toned down over the six reports. In 2002, the first report projected that, by 2023, the share of the population aged 65 and over would climb from 12.5 per cent to nearly 19 per cent.

Actually, it’s only up to 17.3 per cent. And the projection for 2063 is 23.4 per cent, less than the 24.5 per cent originally projected for 2042.

Another factor on which the report was too pessimistic at the start is the effect of ageing on participation in the labour force (by having a job or actively seeking one). Whereas it was expected to dive as the Baby Boomers retired, it’s now expected just to glide down.

Participation actually reached a record high of 66.6 per cent this year – who knew our response to a pandemic would return us to full employment for the first time in 50 years? – and is now projected to have fallen only to 63.8 per cent by 2063. If so, that would be higher than it was in 2002.

Chomik says the first report projected government spending on health care to reach more than 8 per cent of GDP by 2042. Now it’s projected to reach just 6.2 per cent by 2063. But, thanks to the royal commission, the cost of aged care is now expected to grow faster, to 2.5 per cent of GDP by 2063.

Which brings us to Treasury’s bottom line, the federal budget. Treasury projects that, as a percentage of GDP, the budget deficit will decline steadily until 2049, before ageing causes it to start heading back up.

Note, however, that while government spending is projected to rise by almost 4 per cent of GDP, tax collections are assumed, as always, to be unchanged.

Get the (unchanged) commercial message from Treasury? Taxes will have to rise.

Read more >>

Albanese's big chance to improve inflation, productivity and wages

Are Anthony Albanese and his ministers a bunch of nice guys lacking the grit to do much about their good intentions? Maybe. But this week’s announcement of a review of competition policy raises hope that the nice guys intend to make real improvements.

The review, which will provide continuous advice to the government over the next two years, has been set up because “greater competition [between Australia’s businesses] is critical for lifting dynamism, productivity and wages growth [and] putting downward pressure on prices”, Treasurer Jim Chalmers says.

As I wrote on Monday, the great weakness in our efforts to reduce high inflation has been our assumption that its causes are purely macroeconomic – aggregate demand versus aggregate supply – with no role for microeconomics: whether businesses in particular industries have gained the power to push their prices higher than needed to cover their increased costs.

But it seems Chalmers understands that. “Australia’s productivity growth has slowed over the past decade, and reduced competition has contributed to this – with evidence of increased market concentration [fewer businesses coming to dominate an industry], a rise in markups [profit margins] and a reduction in dynamism [ability to change and improve] across many parts of the economy,” he says.

The former boss of the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission, Rod Sims, had some pertinent comments to make about all this at a private business function last week.

He observes that “companies worked out long ago that the essence of corporate strategy is to gain market power and erect entry barriers. Profits from ‘outrunning’ many competitors from a common starting point are generally small; profits from gaining market power are usually large.

“Businesspeople know that when the number of competitors gets too large, price competition is often the result, and that this ‘destroys shareholder value’ or, alternatively put, helps consumers.”

Sims says the goals of growing and sharing the economic pie are being damaged in Western economies, and in Australia, by inadequate competition leading to market power. But, aside from the specialists, the economics profession more broadly has been slow to realise this and factor it into policy responses.

Australia has an extremely concentrated economy, Sims says. We have one dominant rail freight company operating on the east coast, one dominant airline with two-thirds of the market, two beer companies, two ice-cream sellers and two ticketing companies, all with a 90 per cent share of their markets.

We have two supermarkets with a combined market share of about 70 per cent. We have three dominant energy retailers and three dominant telecommunications companies. We have four major banks, with a 75 per cent share of the home mortgage market.

This is much greater concentration than in other developed countries. And, as you’d expect, the profit margins of these companies generally exceed those of comparable companies overseas.

The centuries that businesses have spent pursuing economies of scale explain why we don’t have – and shouldn’t want - the huge number of small firms assumed by the economic theory burnt on the brains of most economists.

But, Sims argues, our relatively small population doesn’t justify the much greater concentration of our industries. For one thing, studies of Australian industry sectors show that the returns to scale stop increasing well before market shares are anything like as high as they are in Australia.

For another, Australia’s modest size doesn’t explain why our industries are getting ever more concentrated, so that our key players are less likely to be challenged by competitors.

And it’s not just our high concentration, it’s also that we see large asset-managing institutions with big shareholdings in most of the firms dominating an industry. Thus, asset managers have an interest in keeping the whole industry’s profits high by limiting price competition between the companies.

One study, of 70,000 firms in 134 countries, found that the average prices charged by our listed companies were 40 per cent above the companies’ marginal cost of production in 1980, and about the same in the late 1990s. But by the early 2000s, average prices were 40 per cent above marginal cost. By 2010, they’d risen to 50 per cent above, and by 2016 it was nearly 60 per cent.

Analysis by federal Treasury has found that our companies’ markups increased over the 13 years to 2017.

The evidence in Australia and overseas is that in concentrated industries we see less dynamism, lower investment and lower productivity, Sims says. Our productivity performance has been very poor at a time when our focus on pro-competition public policy appears to have been lost.

It’s not hard to believe that the latter explains the former. “We run harder when competing versus when we run alone,” Sims says.

Our Treasury’s research also shows that firms in concentrated markets are further from the productivity frontier as there’s less incentive to keep up.

And market concentration also has implications for wage levels. Where labour mobility – the ease with which people move between employers – is reduced, wage levels are lower.

But high industry concentration means fewer firms that workers can move to, bringing relevant skills, and fewer new firms entering the industry. Less competition for workers means lower wages.

“Non-compete clauses” make the problem worse. Recent Australian studies have shown that more than one in five employees are prevented from working for competitors under such contract terms, often even in fairly low-skilled jobs.

Another finding is that the benefits of improved productivity are less shared with workers in concentrated industries. The share of productivity gains going to workers has declined by 25 per cent in the last 15 years, Sims says.

So next time some business person, politician, Reserve Bank governor or other economists tells you higher productivity automatically increases everyone’s wage, don’t fall for it. Used to be true; isn’t any more.

All this says that if the Albanese government is fair dinkum about getting inflation down and productivity and wages up, it will at least ban non-compete clauses and tighten up our merger laws.

Read more >>