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

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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What goes on in the Reserve Bank's mind

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

So far, the Reserve Bank is winning. Every time we’ve had a new inflation read or jobs data, the country has held its breath … and exhaled a sigh of relief. Things are a little tougher for a lot of people, and a lot harder for some. But inflation, our public enemy number one, is gradually slinking away, and a historically high bunch of us have jobs.

The Reserve Bank might not be high-fiving itself yet, but it’ll be cautiously relieved that things are going (mostly) the way it planned. As the bank gets closer to the finish line, though, the balancing act will get harder. The reserve has been laser-focused on shrinking inflation, which it has. But the labour market is weakening, and there’s a risk we won’t feel or see the full impact on jobs of keeping interest rates on hold until after we’ve gone too far.

What is “too far”? Well, it’s tricky to say, because there’s no exact number to guide us on how many job losses we’d be OK with. And because – until we’ve locked inflation well within the 2 to 3 per cent target range – a strong jobs market is also a sign the economy might be pushing too hard to keep up with demand, and therefore that inflation might be here for a bit longer.

As one of the country’s leading labour economists, Jeff Borland, has pointed out, while recent data points to the Reserve Bank’s success so far, there probably needs to be a turning point in the bank’s thinking soon if we’re to avoid a big round of lay-offs.

Underlying inflation, the measure the bank cares about – and which doesn’t count items with especially large price changes – fell to 3.4 per cent over the year to August. Gross domestic product (a measure of how many goods and services the economy is producing), while crawling along, is still growing. And at 4.1 per cent in August, the unemployment rate shows we’ve managed to hold on to a lot of the gains in our labour market.

Compared with the US, UK and Canada, Australia seems to be the Goldilocks country. Partly because of Australia’s responsiveness to interest rate changes (we have one of the highest shares of mortgage-holders on variable rate loans, which means interest rate changes are felt pretty much immediately), the central bank has been less aggressive in ramping up interest rates to curb inflation.

While the US Federal Reserve jacked up rates by 5.3 percentage points from 2022 to its peak, Australian interest rates rose only 4.3 per cent (that’s also lower than in Canada and the UK). Despite this, the increase in Australia’s inflation rate since the first interest rate rise hasn’t strayed far from its peers. In fact, the 2.7 percentage point increase in inflation since the first rate rise is a lot lower than in the UK, where inflation surged 4.8 percentage points from its first rise.

The downward journey in inflation has also been fairly even across the countries. From its peak, Australia’s inflation rate has fallen about 0.7 percentage points every quarter, the same as in Canada and only a touch slower than the 0.8 percentage points in the US. The UK, with a high inflation peak, has had the fastest decline at 1 percentage point every quarter.

Australia’s approach has also limited damage to the jobs market. While unemployment increased 1.6 percentage points in Canada since the first rate rise and 0.8 percentage points in the US, the UK and Australia have managed to keep the lift in unemployment to just 0.6 percentage points.

At the same time, Australia’s participation rate has climbed 0.7 percentage points – the highest of its peers – since unemployment started rising. The participation rate is the proportion of working-age people (those aged over 16) who either have a job – full-time or part-time – or are actively seeking one (we call all these people “the labour force”) in the wider working-age population.

All this, together with high inflation, signals to the Reserve Bank that the Australian economy is still “running hot” as the Reserve’s chief economist Sarah Hunter has put it.

We tend to focus on the rate at which the economy is growing rather than the level it is sitting at. That’s why, when we see weak figures such as 0.2 per cent GDP growth for the most recent quarter (and for the quarter before that, and the one before that), we hear warning bells ringing about recession: commonly defined as two back-to-back quarters of falling growth.

So, why isn’t the bank in a rush to ease up on interest rates?

For as long as employment is growing and unemployment has risen only a bit, the bank won’t be living in fear, as many of its critics are, that the economy could drop into recession at any moment.

While the movement in GDP and household consumption has been very weak, the levels they’re at are still high – especially when compared with how much production capacity we have in the economy.

A strong labour market (one where most people who want a job can find one), means there’s still a lot of demand from businesses for workers. Why? Because there’s strong demand for their goods or services, and they need people to help produce or provide them. In August, for example, the Australian economy added more than 47,000 jobs.

But there are some signs the labour market is weaker than the headlines might tell us.

Some of the additional jobs and additional hours worked are a result of a big boost in immigration and therefore our population. In August, our population grew by 50,000 – but this growth won’t last forever, especially with the government’s cap on international students.

A lot of the growth in hours has also been in industries such as education, healthcare and social assistance. As Borland points out, about 40 per cent of the extra hours worked in recent months were in these largely government-funded industries – which, once again, cannot last forever.

We also know businesses are likely to be hoarding workers (firms tend to cling onto their workers when the economy starts to slow, until the very last minute, because it can be a pain to rehire them), and that interest rates take up to 12 to 18 months to impact the economy, meaning we may be yet to see the full impact of our rate rises.

Until underlying inflation sits comfortably within the target zone, GDP turns negative, or the jobs market deteriorates more noticeably, the Reserve Bank won’t be in a rush to dust off its bias towards reining in inflation.

But we know job loss has life-altering and long-lasting consequences for those affected. For the bank to keep Australia on the “narrow path” and continue to kill it (its job, that is, not the economy), it might need to start shifting its focus towards keeping us all in our jobs.

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RBA worries too much about expectations of further high inflation

Other central banks have started cutting interest rates, yet our Reserve Bank is declining to join them because, as governor Michele Bullock explained on Friday, it doesn’t expect our rate of inflation to fall back to the mid-point of its target range “in a reasonable timeframe”.

Its latest forecasts don’t see the “underlying” (that is, smoothed) annual inflation rate returning to 3 per cent until the end of next year, and reaching the mid-point of 2.5 per cent until late in 2026.

Clearly, the Reserve doesn’t see such a timeframe as reasonable, so it’s keeping interest rates high for longer, until it can see inflation returning to target much earlier. And, Bullock warns, should the inflation outlook get worse, she won’t hesitate to raise rates further.

Obviously, the longer interest rates stay high, the greater the risk of forcing the economy into recession, with much higher unemployment and business failures, something Bullock swears she wants to avoid.

But what’s the hurry? Why is taking another two years to get inflation down an unreasonable timeframe? (Another question is, what’s so magical about 2.5 per cent? Why would 3 per cent or 3.5 per cent also be unreasonable? But I’ll leave that for another day.)

The hurry comes from central bankers’ longstanding fear that, should the inflation rate stay high for too long, the people who set prices and wages will come to expect that inflation will stay high rather than return to where it used to be.

Why do their expectations matter? Because, many economists believe, when enough people expect inflation to stay high, they act on their expectations and so make them a reality. Workers and their unions demand higher wages, and businesses pass their higher costs on to customers in higher prices.

This is the much-remarked “wage-price spiral”. It’s important to remember, however, that inflation expectations and wage-price spirals aren’t a longstanding tenet of either neoclassical or Keynesian economics.

They’re just a bit of pop psychology some economists came up with to explain why, in the mid-1970s, the developed economies found themselves beset by “stagflation” – both high inflation and high unemployment.

So how much we should worry about inflation expectations is an empirical question: is the idea borne out by the facts and figures?

In 2022, Dr John Bluedorn and colleagues at the International Monetary Fund conducted a study of the historical evidence for wage-price spirals in the developed economies, concluding that a jump in wage growth shouldn’t necessarily be seen as a sign that a wage-price spiral is taking hold.

Bluedorn elaborated on these finding at the Reserve Bank’s annual research conference last September. The discussant for his paper was Iain Ross, former president of the Fair Work Commission and now a member of the Reserve’s board.

Ross (and leading labour market economists, such as Melbourne University’s Professor Jeff Borland) readily agree that Australia experienced a wage-price spiral in the 1970s. But both men conclude that our circumstances 50 years later are “very different”, which means it should be possible to sustain steady wage growth without initiating a wage-price spiral.

In mid-2022, Borland listed three respects in which our present circumstances are different. First, upward pressure on wages is being limited on the supply side by employers’ ability to give extra hours of work to part-time workers who’d prefer more hours, and by drawing more participants into the jobs market.

Second, changes in the “institutional environment” since the 1970s have reduced the scope for people to get wage rises based on the principle of “comparative wage justice” – “Those workers have had a pay rise, so it’s only fair that we get the same.”

And third, a decline in the proportion of workers who are members of a union, and a range of other factors, have reduced workers’ bargaining power, thus limiting the size of wage increases likely to be obtained.

There could hardly be anyone in the country better qualified than Ross to explain how the institutional arrangements governing the way wages are set have changed over the decades. He told the conference that “these changes have been profound and substantially reduce the likelihood of a wage-price spiral”.

The central difference was that, in the 1970s and 1980s, the institutional arrangements facilitated the transmission of wage increases bargained at the enterprise level – usually by unions in the metal trades – to the relevant industry sector and then ultimately to the broader workforce.

There were four important respects in which the present rules are very different. First, the new “modern awards” operate as a minimum safety net and the circumstances in which minimum wages may be adjusted are limited. In effect, there is no scope to adjust minimum award rates to reflect the outcome of collective bargaining at the enterprise level.

Second, the Fair Work Act limits the general adjustment of all modern-award minimum wage rates to one annual wage review conducted by the Fair Work Commission.

Third, enterprise agreements need to be approved by the commission before they acquire legal force. The length of agreements averages three years, during which time employees covered by that agreement can’t lawfully engage in industrial action in pursuit of further wage rises.

Fourth, the sanctions against engaging in such industrial action are, Ross said, “readily accessible and effective”.

Ross noted that the proportion of all workers who are members of a union has fallen dramatically since the 1970s. From a little above 50 per cent, it has fallen to 12.5 per cent. And in the private sector it’s down to 8.2 per cent.

The manufacturing sector and its unions were central to the wage-price spiral of the 1970s. But manufacturing’s share of total employment has fallen from 22 per cent to 6 per cent, while the proportion of union members in manufacturing has fallen from 57 per cent to 10 per cent.

Whereas the annual number of working days lost to industrial disputes was about 800 per 1000 employees during the 1970s, these days it’s next to nothing.

Ross said the present enterprise bargaining arrangements operate as a shock absorber by constraining the bargaining capacity of employees subject to an agreement. “To date there is no evidence of the emergence of a wage-price spiral in the present circumstances and recent data suggests such an outcome is unlikely,” he concluded.

My point is, there’s no reason for the Reserve to live in fear of an imminent worsening in inflation expectations if workers and their unions’ ability to turn their expectations into higher wages is greatly constrained. That being so, we shouldn’t allow impatience to get the inflation rate back to target to worsen the risk we’ll end up in a recession, the depth and length of which could greatly impair our return to full employment.

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With luck, we’ll escape recession next year, but it will feel like one

What we’ve come to call the “cost-of-living crisis” has made this an unusually tough year for many people as they struggle to make ends meet. It’s likely to get worse rather than better next year. Which won’t help Anthony Albanese’s chances of being comfortably returned to government in early 2025.

Everyone hates rapidly rising prices and demands the government do something. But I’m not sure everyone understands the paradoxical nature of the usual ways central banks and governments go about fixing the problem. They make it worse to make it make better.

In a market economy, when our demand for goods and services exceeds the economy’s ability to supply them, businesses solve the problem by putting up their prices. The economic managers then seek to weaken our demand by squeezing households’ finances so that they can’t spend as much.

As our spending weakens, firms are less able to keep raising their prices without losing sales.

The main way the Reserve Bank puts the squeeze on household spending is by engineering a rise in mortgage interest payments, leaving people with less money to spend on everything else.

A shortage of rental housing has allowed landlords to make big rent increases. Employers have helped the squeeze by ensuring they raise wages by less than they’ve raised their prices. And Treasurer Jim Chalmers has helped by allowing bracket creep to take a bigger tax bite out of wage increases.

All this is why so many people have been feeling the financial heat this year. But even if there are no more interest rate rises to come, the existing pressures are still working their way through the economy, with little sign of relief.

Consumer prices rose by 7.8 per cent over the year to last December, but the annual rate of increase slowed to 5.4 per cent in September. That’s still well above the Reserve’s target of 2 per cent to 3 per cent.

If the Reserve has accidentally hit the economy harder than intended, we could slip into recession next year, causing a big jump in the number of people out of a job, and thus hitting them much harder.

But with any luck, it won’t come to that. And the crazy-lazy way the media define recession – a fall in real gross domestic product in two successive quarters – means that growth in the population may conceal the hip-pocket pain many people are feeling.

Consider the case of someone on the very modest wage of $45,000 a year in September 2021. If their wage rose in line with the wage price index, it would have risen by $3300 to $48,300 in September this year.

However, bracket creep, plus the discontinuation of the low and middle income tax offset, raised the average rate of income tax they pay from 9.8¢ in the dollar to 14.2¢. So their tax bill would have grown by $2460.

Now allow for the rise in consumer prices over the two years, and the purchasing power of their disposable income has fallen by about $5290, meaning their “real” disposable income is $4450 a year less than it used to be.

Can you imagine that person being terribly happy with the way their finances have fared under the Albanese government? My guess is, there’ll be growing disaffection with Labor as next year progresses.

To help him win last year’s federal election, Albanese made Labor a “small target” by promising very little change, including no change to the stage three income tax cuts, legislated long before the pandemic, to start in July next year.

His game plan had been to spend his first term being steady and sensible, keeping his promises and being an “economically responsible” government. This would get him re-elected with an increased majority and able to implement needed but controversial reforms.

But, through no great fault of his own, he’s had to grapple with the worst surge in the cost of living in decades. If there’s a low-pain way to get inflation back under control, I’ve yet to hear about it.

The trouble set in well before the change of government, and the Reserve Bank began its long series of interest rate rises during the election campaign.

My guess is that Albanese’s hopes of storming back to power at an election due by May 2025 are dashed. But it’s hard to see Peter Dutton winning the election unless he can win back the Liberal heartland seats that went to the teals, which seems doubtful.

So, it’s not hard to see Albanese losing seats and reduced to minority government, dependent on the support of the Greens and teals.

There is, however, one thing he could do to cheer up many voters: rejig the coming tax cuts so the lion’s share of the $25 billion they’ll cost the budget goes not to the high-income taxpayers who’ve had the least trouble coping with living costs, but to those on lower incomes who’ve the most.

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The rich world should think twice about 'central bankism'

For the best part of 30 years, the governments of the advanced countries have outsourced the management of their economies to independent central banks. For many of those years, this change looked to have been a smart one. Now, not so much.

If the central banks’ efforts to get on top of the huge and quite unexpected surge in inflation that followed the pandemic go too far, and the rich countries end up in a severe recession, the inevitable search for someone to blame will lead straight to the door of the central bank.

After all, it was the central bank that, ignoring all the cries of pain, insisted on raising interest rates as far and fast as it did. And, as would by then be obvious, it misjudged and went too far.

It ignored the first rule for econocrats using a policy tool notorious for its “long and variable lags”: if you keep tightening until you’re sure you’ve got inflation beat, you’re sure to have gone too far.

You kept telling us it wasn’t your intention to cause a recession, but we got one anyway. So, were you lying to us, or just incompetent?

That’s my first point: if we do end up in recession, the independent central banks will get the blame, and there’ll be a posse of angry voters around the world demanding they be stripped of their independence.

But even if – as we hope - the worst doesn’t come to the worst, there’ll still be a strong case for our politicians to ask the obvious question: surely there must be a better way to run a railroad?

The rich world moved to central bank independence in the 1990s for strictly pragmatic reasons: because governments couldn’t be trusted to move the interest rate lever up and down to fit the economic cycle, not the political cycle.

Fine. But this is a democracy. How come a bunch of unelected bureaucrats have been given so much power? The fact is, independent central banking’s legitimacy comes solely because a duly elected government saw fit to grant it that freedom, and the present government hasn’t seen fit to take it away. Yet.

The trick is, if a central bank really stuffs up, voters will be furious, and they’ll turn on the only people they can turn on: the government of the day. You may think that, should a government of one colour be tossed out because of the central bank’s almighty stuff-up, the incoming government of the other colour would be mighty pleased with the central bank.

No way. What it would think is: if those bastards could do it to the others, they could just as easily do it to us. The new government’s first act would be to clip the central bankers’ wings.

The broader point is that independent central banking was not ordained by God. It’s just a policy choice we made at a time when it seemed like a good idea. When circumstances change, and we realise it wasn’t such a good idea, we’ll be perfectly equipped and entitled to change to a different policy arrangement we hope will work better.

Of course, moving away from economic management by interest-rate manipulation wouldn’t please everyone. It wouldn’t please academic economists who’d devoted their lives to the study of monetary economics (and right now, are hoping for a well-paid spot on the Reserve Bank board).

Nor would it suit the industry that, over the past 30 years, has grown up on the pavement outside the central bank’s building, so to speak. All the money market dealers who make their living betting on whether the central bank will change rates this month and by how much. Nor the economists who write the professional punters’ tip sheets.

And it’s a safe bet it wouldn’t suit the big banks, who’d much prefer the economy to be run by their mates down the road in Martin Place, rather than all those unknown bureaucrats and politicians in Canberra.

When you let one institution run the economy day to day for so long, it starts to get proprietorial. It’s in change of the economy and, when problems arise, it must be the outfit that takes charge and does what’s necessary to fix things.

There’s never a time when you admit that some other institution – the government and its Treasury advisers, for instance – should take the running because their instrument, the budget, is more multifaceted and suited to the problem than is your one-trick-pony instrument, interest rates.

And you do this even when the official interest rate is not far above zero. You tell everyone who thinks you’re out of ammo and should leave the running to Treasury and fiscal policy, they’re wrong, and resort to quantitative easing and other “unconventional measures”.

I reckon a big part of the reason what we thought was a problem of holding the economy together while we dealt with the pandemic turned into the worst inflationary episode in 30 years was the uncalled-for intervention of central banks, pushing themselves to the front of the fiscal parade.

And this from the institution that’s spend decades telling us it knows more about inflation than everyone else, cares more about inflation than anything else, and accepts ultimate responsibility to protect us from the supreme evil of inflation.

Today’s conventional wisdom says the present inflation surge was caused by big pandemic and war-caused supply shortages coming at a time when demand had been overstimulated. But a big part of that overstimulation occurred because central banks insisted on coming in over the top of those who were better equipped to respond to the pandemic and, indeed, were responsible for ordering and policing the lockdowns: the federal and state governments.

In Australia, nowhere was this overkill more apparent than in housing. While both federal and state governments were instituting temporary incentives to encourage home building, the central bank was not only slashing the official interest rate to near zero, it was lending to the banks at a hugely concessional rate, and buying second-hand government bonds, so the banks could offer home buyers two and three-year fixed-interest loans.

Throw in a temporary, pandemic-caused shortage of imported building materials, and you have much of our inflation surge being explained by an astonishing 27 per cent leap in the cost of a newly built home.

Why wasn’t there any co-ordination between the three arms of government that caused this avoidable inflationary disaster? Because the central bank is independent. It acts on its own volition.

But also because, when your only tool is a one-trick pony, you end up wearing blinkers. When you can only join the game by putting rates up or putting them down, you just can’t afford to worry about anyone who may be sideswiped in the process.

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Hey RBA boomer, things have changed a lot since the 1970s

Sorry, but Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe’s call for ordinary Australians to make further sacrifice next year in his unfinished fight against “the scourge of inflation” doesn’t hold water. His crusade to save us all from a wage-price spiral is like Don Quixote tilting at windmills only he can see.

In one of his last speeches for the year, Lowe “highlighted the possibility of a wage-price spiral” in Australia. A lesson from the high inflation we experienced in the 1970s and ’80s is that “bringing inflation back down again after it becomes ingrained in people’s expectations is very costly and almost certainly involves a recession”.

He noted that this was a real risk in “a number of other advanced economies [which] are experiencing much faster rates of wages growth”.

But not to worry. “This is an area we are watching carefully.” The Reserve Bank board is “resolute in its determination to return inflation to target, and we will do what is necessary to achieve that”.

Oh. Really? Like the smartest of the business economists, I’ve been thinking that having raised the official interest rate by 3 percentage points in eight months, Lowe may have decided he’s done enough. But this tough-guy talk hints at more to come – maybe a lot more.

One thing I am pretty sure of, however. After the caning Lowe’s been given for saying repeatedly that he didn’t expect to be raising interest rates until 2024, when he does decide he has done enough, he won’t be saying so.

To leave his options open – and pacify the urgers in the financial markets who want him to do a lot more – he’ll say it’s just a pause to see how the medicine’s going down. And add something like “the board expects to increase interest rates further over the period ahead, but it is not on a pre-set course”.

One reason Lowe doesn’t have to raise rates as far as many overpaid money-market people imagine is that with real wages having fallen in recent years, and expected to keep falling, the nation’s employers are doing his job for him.

Raise mortgage interest rates or cut real wages – whichever way you do it, the result is to put the squeeze on households, to stop them spending as much (on the things the people who cut their wages are hoping to sell them – no, doesn’t make sense to me, either).

So, we’re back to Lowe’s professed fear of a wage-price spiral. The entire under-50 population must be wondering what such a thing could be. Lowe spelt it out while answering questions after his speech.

“The issue that many central banks have been worried about – and I include us in this – is [that] this period of high inflation will lead the workforce to say: ‘Well, inflation is high, I need compensation for that’.”

“And let’s say we all accepted the idea, which [has] a natural appeal: ‘inflation is 7 per cent, I should be compensated for that in my wages’. If that were to happen, what do you think inflation would be next year? Seven per cent, plus or minus.

“And then we’ve got to get compensated for that 7 per cent, and 7 per cent. . . This is what happened in the ’70s and ’80s and ... that turned out to be a disaster,” Lowe said.

“So I know it’s very difficult for people to accept the idea that wages don’t rise with inflation. And people are experiencing a decline in real wages. That’s tough. The alternative, though, is more difficult,” he added.

This is a reasonable description of how the wage-price spiral worked in the olden days. But as a plausible risk for today, it has two glaring weaknesses.

First, it assumes that if workers decide they want a 7 per cent pay rise, bosses have no choice but to hand it over. This is fantasy land.

The plain truth is that these days, workers lack the industrial muscle to force big pay rises on employers. The best-placed workers on enterprise agreements are getting rises of 3 to 4 per cent, but some are still getting rises in the twos.

The lowest-paid quarter of workers, dependent on award wage minimums, get their rises determined annually by the Fair Work Commission – but these are granted in retrospect, not prospect. This July, a handful of them got a rise of 5.2 per cent, but most got 4.6 per cent.

The bargaining power workers had in the ’70s has been reduced by more than four decades of globalisation, technological change and wage-fixing “reform”. In 1976, 52 per cent of workers were members of a union. Now it’s down to just 12.5 per cent.

Yet another reason a wage-price spiral couldn’t happen today is that most enterprise agreements run for three years. The system prohibits me from striking for a pay rise this year higher than the one I already agreed to two years ago.

The second respect in which Lowe’s fear of a wage-price spiral rising from the dead is silly is the assumption that if workers get a 7 per cent pay rise, businesses will automatically and easily put their prices up by 7 per cent. This makes sense arithmetically only if you think that wage costs constitute the whole of businesses’ costs. In truth, the Bureau of Statistics’ input-output tables say that economy-wide, wages account for only about a quarter of total input costs.

So, on average, a 7 per cent wage rise justifies a price rise of less than 2 per cent. Since business competitors would be paying much the same, you might think any firm that turned a 2 per cent cost increase into a 7 per cent price rise would be asking to be undercut by its competitors and lose its share of the market.

Of course, such an outrageous assault on the pockets of the industry’s customers would be possible if the industry was dominated by just a few big firms. They could – and have, and do – reach an unspoken agreement to each put their prices up by the same excessive amount.

It’s clear that Lowe knows a lot about how financial markets work, but not much about labour markets. But I find it hard to believe he could be so ill-informed as not to see the weaknesses in his wage-price spiral boogeyman.

The other possibility is that what’s really worrying him is a mass outbreak of oligopolistic pricing power. Getting that back under control really could take a recession.

Monetary policy (manipulating interest rates) is no cure for market power. The only answer is stronger competition policy and tougher policing by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission. But neither the Reserve Bank nor Treasury has had much enthusiasm for this.

Much less controversial to blame inflation on greedy workers and tell the mums and dads it’s their duty to the nation to tighten their belts and lose their jobs until the problem’s solved.

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Inflation: small problem, so don't hit with sledgehammer

It’s an old expression, but a good one: out of the frying pan, into the fire. Less than two years ago we were told that, after having escaped recession for almost 30 years, the pandemic and our efforts to stop the virus spreading had plunged us into the deepest recession in almost a century.

Only a few months later we were told that, thanks to the massive sums that governments had spent protecting the incomes of workers and businesses during the lockdowns, the economy had “bounced back” from the recession and was growing more strongly than it had been before the pandemic arrived.

No sooner had the rate of unemployment leapt to 7.5 per cent than it began falling rapidly and is now, we learnt a fortnight ago, down to 3.5 per cent – its lowest since 1974.

You little beauty. At last, the economy’s going fine and we can get on with our lives without a care.

But, no. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a new and terrible problem has emerged. The rate of inflation is soaring. It’s sure to have done more soaring when we see the latest figures on Wednesday morning.

So worrying is soaring inflation that the Reserve Bank is having to jack up interest rates as fast as possible to stop the soaring. It’s such a worry, many in the financial markets believe, that it may prove necessary to put interest rates up so high they cause ... a recession.

Really? No, not really. There’s much talk of recession – and this week we’re likely to hear claims that the US has entered it – but if we go into recession just a few years after the last one, it will be because the Reserve Bank has been panicked into hitting the interest-rate brakes far harder than warranted.

As you know, since the mid-1990s the power to influence interest rates has shifted from the elected politicians to the unelected econocrats at our central bank. A convention has been established that government ministers must never comment on what the Reserve should or shouldn’t be doing about interest rates.

So last week Anthony Albanese, still on his PM’s P-plates, got into trouble for saying the Reserve’s bosses “need to be careful that they don’t overreach”.

Well, he shouldn’t be saying it, but there’s nothing to stop me saying it – because it needs to be said. The Reserve is under huge pressure from the financial markets to keep jacking up rates, but it must hold its nerve and do no more than necessary.

It’s important to understand that prices have risen a lot in all the advanced economies. They’ve risen not primarily for the usual reason – because economies have been “overheating”, with the demand for goods and services overtaking businesses’ ability to supply them – but for the less common reason that the pandemic has led to bottlenecks and other disruptions to supply.

To this main, pandemic problem has been added the effect of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine on oil and gas, and wheat and other foodstuffs.

The point is that these are essentially once-off price rises. Prices won’t keep rising for these reasons and, eventually, the supply disruptions will be solved and the Ukraine attack will end. Locally, the supply of meat and vegetables will get back to normal – until the next drought and flooding.

Increasing interest rates – which all the rich countries’ central banks are doing – can do nothing to end supply disruptions caused by the pandemic, end the Ukraine war or stop climate change.

All higher rates can do is reduce households’ ability to spend – particularly those households with big, recently acquired mortgages, and those facing higher rent.

The Reserve keeps reminding us that – because most of us were able to keep working, but not spending as much, during the lockdowns – households now have an extra $260 billion in bank accounts. But much of this is in mortgage redraw and offset accounts, and will be rapidly eaten up by higher interest rates.

Of course, the higher prices we’re paying for petrol, electricity, gas and food will themselves reduce our ability to spend on other things, independent of what’s happening to interest rates. It would be a different matter if we were all getting wage rises big enough to cover those price rises, but it’s clear we won’t be.

The main part of the inflation problem that's of our own making is the rise in the prices of newly built homes and building materials. This was caused by the combination of lower interest rates and special grants to home buyers hugely overstretching the housing industry. But higher interest rates and falling house prices will end that.

So, while it’s true we do need to get the official interest rate up from its lockdown emergency level of virtually zero to “more normal levels” of “at least 2.5 per cent”, it’s equally clear we don’t need to go any higher to ensure the inflation rate eventually falls back to the Reserve’s 2 to 3 per cent target range.

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Economic times are tricky, but they're far from 'dire'

It’s a funny thing. The easily impressionable are packing down for imminent recession, while the economic cognoscenti are fretting that the economy is “overheating”. Unfortunately, the two aren’t as poles apart as you may think. Even so, both groups need to calm down and think sensibly.

There was much talk of recession last week as the sharemarket dropped sharply. We dropped because Wall Street dropped. It dropped because the thought finally occurred that if the US Federal Reserve whacks up interest rates as far and as fast as the financial markets are demanding, high inflation might be cured by putting the US into recession.

It’s true that when central banks try to cool an overheating economy by jamming on the interest-rate brakes, they often overdo it and precipitate a recession.

But a few other things are also true. One is Paul Samuelson’s famous quip that the sharemarket has predicted nine of the past five recessions. As the pandemic has taught us to say, it has a high rate of “false positives”. Assume that a sharemarket correction equals a recession, and you’ll do a lot more worrying than you need to.

In truth, the chances of a US recession are quite high. But another truth is that the days when a recession in the US spelt recession in Australia are long gone. Our financial markets are heavily influenced by America, but our exports and imports aren’t. Remember, during our almost 30 years without a serious recession, the Yanks had several.

China, however, is a different matter, and its continuing strength is looking dodgy. But even though a Chinese recession would be bad news for our exports, of itself that shouldn’t be sufficient to drop us into recession.

That’s particularly so because much of the blow from a drop in our mining export income would be borne by the foreigners who own most of our mining industry. It would be a different matter if modern mining employed many workers, or paid much in royalties, income tax and resource rent tax.

Remember, too, that contrary to what Paul Keating tried telling us, all recessions happen by accident. The politician who thinks a recession would improve their chances of re-election has yet to be born. And few central bank bosses think a recession would look good on their CV.

They occur mainly because an attempt to use higher interest rates to slow an overheated economy goes too far and the planned “soft landing” ends with us hitting the runway with a bump. It follows that the greatest risk we face is that the urgers in the financial markets (the ones whose decision rule is that whatever the US does, we should do) will con the Reserve Bank into raising interest rates higher than needed.

But I’m sure Reserve governor Dr Philip Lowe is alive to the risk of overdoing the tightening.

He mustn’t fall for the claim that, because a combination of fiscal stimulus and an economy temporarily closed to all imported labour has left us with a record level of job vacancies and rate of labour under-utilisation of 9.6 per cent, the economy is “red hot”.

Is it red hot when almost all the rise in prices is imported inflation caused by temporary global supply constraints? Or when the latest wage price index shows wages soaring by 2.4 per cent a year and all the Reserve’s tea-leaf reading shows wages rising by three-point-something? And (if you actually read it right, which most of the media didn’t), last week’s annual wage review awarded the bottom quarter of employees a pay rise of 4.6 per cent, not 5.2 per cent.

Is it red hot when employers are reported to be offering bonuses and non-economic incentives to attract or retain staff? That is, when they aren’t so desperate they feel a need actually to offer higher wage rates. Or is it when oligopolised businesses are still claiming they can “afford” pay rises of only 2 per cent or so and, predictably, there’s been no talk of strikes?

Is an economy “overheating” and “red hot” when real wages are likely to fall even further? That is, when the nation’s households will be forced by their lack of bargaining power to absorb much of the temporary rise in imported inflation (plus, the delayed effects of drought and floods on meat and vegetable prices)?

And, we’re asked to believe, households will be madly spending their $250 billion in excess savings despite the rising cost of living, falling real wages, rising interest rates, talk of imminent recession and falling house prices. Seriously?

No, what’s most likely isn’t a recession, just a return to the weak growth we experienced for many years before the pandemic, thanks to what people are calling “demand destruction” by our caring-and-sharing senior executive class.

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It's not jobs we're short of, it's jobs that pay decent wages

When it comes to knowing what’s going on in the jobs market, there’s a bit more to it than being able to remember the present rate of unemployment. It helps to know why the unemployment rate is at the level it is, and what that implies for the family’s future finances.

In case you’ve gone deaf – or just stopped listening – Scott Morrison wants you to know the rate of unemployment has been falling rapidly over the past six months, and is now a fraction under 4 per cent.

That’s the lowest it’s been in about 50 years.

But wait, there’s more. Morrison said last week his priorities are “jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs and jobs”. To which effect he’s promising to create a further 1.3 million over the next five years. This will be on top of the 1.9 million jobs already created since the Coalition returned to power in 2013.

The growth in employment and the fall in unemployment since the economy’s massive contraction during the “coronacession” in the June quarter of 2020 is a truly remarkable achievement, for which the Morrison government deserves much credit. Don’t let any carping Labor critic convince you otherwise.

Don’t let anyone tell you the government has changed the definition of unemployment. It isn’t true. What is true is that the problem of underemployment – people who have jobs, but aren’t able to find as many hours as they’d like – is a bigger problem today than it was 50 years ago.

But the rate of underemployment has fallen to 6.3 per cent, down from 8.8 per cent two years ago, and the lowest it’s been since 2008.

In any case, almost all the 395,000 net extra jobs created since the start of the pandemic two years ago are full-time.

Next, get this. The proportion of the working-age population holding a job now stands at 63.8 per cent – the highest it has ever been.

And the biggest winners in this have been young people. Their rate of employment is 4.6 percentage points higher than it was two years ago. The rate for people aged 25 to 64 is up 1.9 percentage points, while the rate for those aged 65 and over is up 0.4 points.

But all the growth in employment hasn’t been sufficient to meet the demand from employers. The number of job vacancies is at a record level of 423,500. That is, getting on for a half a million job openings are going begging.

Now, let me ask you a question: does it sound to you as though our big problem at present is an acute shortage of jobs, jobs, jobs?

If you’ve heard of generals fighting the last war rather than coming to grips with the present one, now you know that prime ministers are prone to the same mistake.

So, why is Morrison claiming to have made getting us a lot more jobs his priority, when there must surely be more pressing problems he should be focused on? Two reasons.

One is that Australia’s had a problem with insufficient jobs – aka high rates of unemployment – since the late 1970s. This was the case for so long – did I mention 50 years? – the notion that a shortage of jobs is an eternal feature of economic life is now lodged deeply in many people’s minds.

And, as is the practice of modern politicians, Morrison finds it easier to pander to our misconceptions than to straighten them out.

“You think we can never have enough jobs? OK, I promise to create another 1.3 million of ’em.”

But how on earth do we finally seem to have got on top of a 50-year problem? Mainly because our first recession in almost 30 years turned out to be more benign than any we’ve had.

In particular, the government spent unprecedented multi-billions on the JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme, which was designed to preserve the link between employers and their workers, even when they had no work for their workers to do. It worked brilliantly.

The billions federal and state governments spent on this and many other programs to protect the incomes of businesses and workers have given an enormous boost to the demand for workers.

But remember, this surge in demand came at a time when our borders were closed to our usual supply of imported labour: overseas students, backpackers and skilled workers on temporary visas.

Now that our borders have reopened, the demand for workers will increase, but so will their supply. If employment does grow by 1.3 million in the next five years, it will be mainly because of population growth, coming mainly from immigration.

The other reason Morrison wants to talk about jobs, jobs, jobs is to direct our attention towards his economic successes and away from his economic failure: since a year or two before the Coalition’s election in 2013, wages have struggled to keep up with the rising cost of living.

If Anthony Albanese was a sharper politician, he’d be telling us his priorities were wages, wages, wages.

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Timing the economy to fit a pandemic election is a tricky business

So, with Scott Morrison pulling the new AUKUS pact out of his hat, will we be off to a khaki election? It would hardly be the first election conservative governments have won by promising to save us from the threat to our north.

But that’s why I doubt it. For an issue to dominate an election campaign, it has to be in contention. National security is an issue that always favours the conservatives, so Labor won’t be offering any objection to AUKUS or nuclear subs.

Similarly, an issue that should figure large in the campaign is whether the Coalition is too conflicted over climate change to be worthy of re-election. But that issue naturally favours Labor, so Morrison won’t want to take up that fight.

Which leaves? The economy, stupid. Until the end of June, the economy was looking in great shape, better than it had been even before the pandemic. But the arrival of the Delta variant means that, right now, more than half the national economy is back in lockdown, and looking mighty sick.

Does it surprise you that Morrison’s so keen to see the south-eastern mainland states out of lockdown and the others opening their borders, and is pressing the premiers accordingly? He desperately needs the economy back looking trim and terrific by March – May at the latest.

Add to this the business community’s pressure to get back to business – “don’t bother me with all the COVID details” – and the public’s impatience to get life back to normal. Sydneysiders have had enough of lockdowns; Melburnians have had more than enough – something even “Dictator” Dan Andrews can see.

So Gladys Berejiklian and Andrews have added their separate modelling by the Burnet Institute to Morrison’s National Plan modelling by the Doherty Institute – not to mention the independent modelling by the Kirby Institute – and announced their “road maps” for opening up their economies progressively once vaccination rates have reached 70 per cent and 80 per cent of the eligible population, expected in mid-to-late October and early November.

NSW is projected to be only about a week ahead of Victoria, and the gap between 70 and 80 per cent only about two weeks.

Everyone’s so pleased to be getting on with it that we risk losing sight of the high risks the two premiers are running. If all goes to plan, we’ll be back to a new (still-masked) normal by early next year, and the economy will be humming in time for a March election.

But models, based on a host of unmentioned explicit and implicit assumptions, inevitably give politicians and punters a false sense of certainty. No model can accurately predict something as mercurial as human behaviour. And, as we’ve learnt, a new coronavirus knows nothing of models and is a law unto itself.

The risk Andrews and Berejiklian face is that so many unvaccinated people contract the virus that our hospital system is overwhelmed, with people dying because they were turned away, leading to a number of deaths the public finds unacceptable. Whether they press on or turn back, the premiers would be in deep trouble.

The first risk comes from an ambulance and hospital system that, 18 months after the crisis began, is already at full stretch. The premiers tell us our wonderful health workers are coping; the message from ambos, doctors and nurses on the ground says they’re close to collapse.

The next risk comes from the inconvenient truth that our vaccination targets of 70 and 80 per cent of people 16 and older turn out to be just 56 and 64 per cent of the full population. That’s a huge proportion of unvaccinated friends and relations.

Remember, too, that these are statewide averages. They conceal less-vaccinated pockets of particularly vulnerable groups – the disabled, the Indigenous, for instance – and a city-country gap that leaves many rural towns hugely exposed, together with their limited hospital capacity.

Even the decision to move as soon as the 70 and 80 per cent targets are reached, rather than wait another fortnight for vaccines to become fully effective, carries a risk of higher infection.

Both the Burnet and revised Doherty modelling say starting to open up at 70 per cent rather than 80 per cent is likely to involve significantly higher infections, hospitalisations and deaths. Why take that risk just to avoid waiting another fortnight or so?

Morrison’s national plan called for all states to open up together once all had reached the 70 and 80 per cent targets, but now NSW and Victoria are going first. This increases the risk that, despite the other states’ closed borders, the virus will spread to them – where the lesser threat of catching the virus has caused vaccination rates to be much lower.

The risk for Berejiklian and Andrews is that they could be moving the Delta outbreak from the city to the country. The risk for Morrison is that, by pressing those two to open up early, he could be moving the outbreak from one half of the economy to the other.

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When judging recessions, depth matters more than length

With the publication this week of the latest “national accounts”, our situation is now clear: we’re not in recession, yet we are – but, in a sense, not really.

Confused? It’s simple when you know. One thing we do know is that the economy – as measured by real gross domestic product – will have contracted significantly in the present quarter, covering the three months to the end of September.

At this stage, the smart money is predicting a contraction – a fall in the production and purchase of goods and services – of “two-point-something” per cent, although there are business economists who think the fall could be as much as 4 per cent.

Recessions are periods when people cut their spending sharply, causing businesses to cut their production of goods and services and lay off workers. It’s mainly because so many people lose their jobs that recessions are something to be feared. But also, a lot of businesses go broke.

This means no one should need economists to tell them if we are or aren’t in recession. If you can’t tell it from all the newly closed shops as you walk down the main street, you should know from what’s happening to the employment of yourself, your family and friends. Failing that, you should know it from all the gloomy stories you see and hear on the media.

Have you heard, by chance, that NSW, Victoria and now Canberra are back in lockdown, leaving some workers with no work to do, and the rest of us unable to spend nearly as much as usual because we’re confined to our homes? You have? Then you know we’re in recession.

When the first, national lockdown began in late March last year, real GDP contracted by 7 per cent in the June quarter. That was the deepest recession we’ve had since the Great Depression of the 1930s.

But it was also the shortest recession we’ve had because, once the lockdown was lifted, the economy – both consumer spending and employment - immediately began bouncing back. As the Australian Bureau of Statistics revealed this week, the bounce-back continued in the June quarter of this year, which saw real GDP growing by a strong 0.7 per cent, leaving the level of GDP up 1.6 per cent on its pre-pandemic level.

All clear so far? The confusion arises only in the minds of those people silly enough to let the media convince them that, despite all the walking and looking and quacking they see before their eyes, a recession’s not a recession unless you have two consecutive quarters of contraction in GDP.

The size of the contraction is of no consequence, apparently, nor would be two or more quarters of contraction that weren’t consecutive. This is nonsense.

As my colleague Jessica Irvine has explained, this “rule” is repeated ad nauseam by the media, but has no status in economics. It’s a crude rule of thumb that’s frequently misleading. It’s in no way the “official” definition of recession.

But the consecutive-quarter rule is so deeply ingrained that it causes needless debate and uncertainty. Some business economists convinced themselves that this week’s figure for growth in the June quarter could be a small negative.

Oh, gosh! Since we know the present quarter will be a negative, that means we could be in another recession. Quick, get out the R-word posters.

But no. June quarter growth proved stronger than expected. Treasurer Josh Frydenberg couldn’t resist the temptation to declare there’d been no “double-dip recession”. Thank God!

But wait. The lockdowns could easily continue beyond the end of this month and into the December quarter. So we could have a second negative quarter on the way. Quick, bring back the posters and start writing the double-dip speech.

Sorry, this is not only silly, it’s got the arithmetic wrong. When the economy goes from growth to lockdown, you get a negative. But when, in the follow quarter, the economy merely stays in lockdown you get zero growth, not another fall.

The present lockdowns apply to a bit over half the economy. So, if the other half continues to grow, we will get a positive change in GDP during the quarter.

What’s more, if the lockdowns end sometime before the end of December, we’ll get a bounce-back in growth in that half of the economy, as everyone rushes out to start buying the things they were prevented from buying during the lockdown.

That’s what happened last time the lockdown ended; it’s safe to happen this time too. So it’s hard to see how we could get a second quarter of “negative growth” in the three months to New Year’s Eve.

We’ll learn what the figure was in early March, in good time for the federal election. Stand by for Frydenberg’s triumphant declaration that we’ve avoided a double-dip recession for a second time. He’ll turn the media’s consecutive-quarters bulldust back on them, and spin a story of great success.

But this will literally be non-sense. He’ll take a contraction in the September quarter of, say, 2 to 4 per cent – as big as the contractions that caused the recessions of the mid-1970s, the early 1980s and the early 1990s – and pretend it doesn’t count, simply because that massive contraction was concentrated in one quarter rather than spread over two.

He’ll con us into accepting that the depth of a slump doesn’t matter, just its length. More nonsense.

But there remains a respect in which, like the first dip, the second isn’t really a recession. What we had last year and are in the middle of right now aren’t recessions in the normal sense.

They’re artificial recessions deliberately brought about by governments to minimise the loss of life from the pandemic. They thus involve a degree of monetary assistance to workers and businesses unknown to normal recessions. This means they don’t take years to go away, but disappear in six months or so because of the speed with which the economy bounces back when the lockdown ends.

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Don’t be surprised if the economy surprises on the downside

The economy has been on a roller-coaster since the virus arrived early last year, dipping one minute, soaring the next. Now, with the Delta variant putting Sydney and Melbourne back in lockdown, we’re in the middle of another dip. But as you hang on, remember this: what goes down must come up.

When governments order many businesses to close their doors, and us to leave our homes as little as possible, it’s hardly surprising that economic activity takes a dive. What did surprise us was the way the economy bounced back up the moment the lockdown was eased.

We rushed out of our houses and started spending like mad. Not that we weren’t spending whatever we could while locked down. Another surprise was the way the presence of the internet changed what would otherwise have happened.

Apart from allowing most people with desk jobs to work from home, and talk face to face to people in other cities without getting on a plane, it allowed us to keep spending: ordering groceries and takeaways online, consulting doctors over the phone – I thought receptionists were there to stop you getting through to the great personage – buying exercise equipment and stuff to get on with fixing up the back bedroom.

As I keep having to remind myself, only God knows what the future holds – and He’s not letting on. But it’s part of the human condition to be insatiably desperate to know what happens next. We keep searching the world for the one person who might be able to tell us.

Since even the experts can’t be sure what will happen, they base their predictions on the hope that what happens this time will be much the same as what usually happens. Experts are people who remember last time better than we do.

But that way of predicting the future hasn’t worked this time. The epidemiologists – and all the related -ologists we hardly knew existed – know a lot about viruses but, at the start, little about the particular characteristics of this one. Their predictions have kept changing as they’ve had more to go on.

Last year’s recession was the fifth of my career (counting the global financial crisis, which I do). I thought that knowledge put me so far ahead of the game I was an expert expert. Wrong.

Ordinary recessions happen because the people managing the economy stuff up. The economy takes well over a year to unravel, then three or four years to wind back up. But this recession was completely different, having been knowingly brought about by governments, for health reasons. When at last they let us go back to business, however, that’s just what we did.

The initial, nationwide lockdown caused the economy’s production of goods and services (gross domestic product) to dive by an unprecedented 7 per cent in just the three months to the end of June last year. But then the economy bounced back by 3.5 per cent in the September quarter and a further 3.2 per cent in the December quarter after Victoria’s delayed release from lockdown.

In the period before the Delta strain sent Sydney back into humbling lockdown, GDP was ahead of what it was at the end of 2019. Total employment was also ahead, while the rate of unemployment was actually a little lower.

Since the present September quarter has two months left to run, and Sydney’s lockdown rolls on even though Melbourne’s has ended, it’s too early to be confident by how much GDP will fall but, depending on how long Sydney’s drags on, it’s likely to be a fall of less than 1 per cent or somewhat more than 1 per cent. However bad, a lot less than last time.

As for the December quarter – and barring some new outbreak, say a new letter in the Greek alphabet – it’s likely to show expansion rather than contraction. Victoria will be growing, NSW will be in bounce-back mode as soon as the lockdown ends, and the rest of Australia will be doing its normal thing.

So all those silly people desperate for a chance to repeat the R-word aren’t likely to get the excuse they imagine they need.

Another major respect in which coronacessions differ from normal recessions is that politicians can’t consciously decide to stop the economy without at the same time providing generous assistance to all the workers and businesses this will harm. Normally, the assistance comes much later and is less generous.

Despite cries for the return of JobKeeper, the arrangements Scott Morrison has hammered out with Gladys Berejiklian and Dan Andrews are, by and large, a good substitute for the measures used the first time around.

The other thing to remember is that the economy is in much better shape now than at the end of 2019. Households have more money in the bank, the housing market is booming, profits are up and businesses are complaining about staff shortages.

Not such a bad time to cope with a setback. It won’t be the end of the world.

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Our closed borders have turbo-charged the economy's recovery

The economy’s rebound from the lockdowns of last year has been truly remarkable – far better than anyone dared to hope. Even so, it’s not quite as miraculous as it looks.

As Tuesday’s budget leads us to focus on the outlook for the economy in the coming financial year, it’s important to remember that the coronacession hasn’t been like a normal recession. And the recovery from it won’t be like a normal recovery either.

The coronacession is unique for several reasons. The first is that the blow to economic activity – real gross domestic product - was much greater than we’ve experienced in any recession since World War II and almost wholly contained within a single quarter.

The reason for that is simple: it happened because our federal and state governments decided that the best way to stop the spread of the virus was to lock down the economy for a few weeks. But because this was a government-ordered recession, the governments were in no doubt about their obligation to counter the cost to workers and businesses with monetary assistance.

So the second respect in which this recession was different was the speed with which governments provided their “fiscal stimulus” and the unprecedented amount of it: for the feds alone, $250 billion, equivalent to more than 12 per cent of GDP.

But there’s a less-recognised third factor adding to the coronacession’s uniqueness: this time the government ordered the closing of our international borders. Virtually no one entering Australia and no one going out.

The independent economist Saul Eslake points out that “an important but under-appreciated reason for the so-far surprisingly rapid decline in unemployment, from its lower-than-expected peak of 7.5 per cent last July, is the absence of any immigration: which means that the civilian working-age population is now growing at (on average over the past two quarters) only 8,300 per month, compared with an average of 27,700 per month over the three years to March 2020,” he says.

This means that, with an unchanged rate of people choosing to participate in the labour force by either holding a job or seeking one, a rate that’s already at a record high, employment needs only to grow at about a third of its pre-pandemic rate in order to hold the rate of unemployment steady.

So any growth in employment in excess of that brings unemployment tumbling down.

Get it? It’s not just that the bounce back in jobs growth has been much quicker and stronger than we expected. It’s also that, thanks to the absence of immigration, this has reduced the unemployment rate much more than it usually does.

To put it another way, Eslake says, if the population of working age continues growing over the remainder of this year at the much-slower rate at which it’s been growing over the past six months, employment has to grow by an average of just 17,000 a month to push the unemployment rate down to just below 5 per cent by the end of this year (assuming the rate of labour-force participation stays the same).

By contrast, if the working-age population was continuing to grow at its pre-pandemic rate, employment growth would need to average 29,000 a month to get us down to 5 per cent unemployment by the end of this year.

Now, it’s true that as well as adding to the supply of labour, immigration also adds to the demand for labour. So its absence is also working to slow the growth in employment. But this has been more than countered by two factors.

The obvious one is the governments’ massive fiscal stimulus. But Eslake reminds us of the less-obvious factor: our closed borders have prevented Australians from doing what they usually do a lot of: going on (often expensive) overseas trips.

He estimates that this spending usually amounts to roughly $55 billion a year. But we’re spending a fair bit of this “saving” on domestic tourism – or on our homes.

Of course, we need to remember that, as well as stopping us from touring abroad, the closed borders are also stopping foreigners from touring here. But, in normal times, we spend more on overseas tourism than foreigners spend here. (In the strange language of econospeak, we are “net importers of tourism services”.)

Eslake estimates that our ban on foreign tourists (and international students) is costing us more than $22 billion – about 1.25 per cent of GDP – a year in export income. Clearly, however, our economy is well ahead on this (temporary) deal.

Another economist who’s been thinking harder than the rest of us about the consequences of our closed borders is Gareth Aird, of the Commonwealth Bank.

The decision by Scott Morrison and Josh Frydenberg to “continuing to prioritise job creation” and so drive the unemployment rate down much further, has led to much discussion of the NAIRU – the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment” – the lowest level unemployment can fall to before wages and prices take off.

The econocrats believe that little-understood changes in the structure of the advanced economies may have lowered our NAIRU to 4.5 per cent or even less. But Aird reminds us that, for as long as our international borders remain closed, the NAIRU is likely to be higher than that.

“If firms are not able to recruit from abroad then, as the labour market tightens, skill shortages will manifest themselves faster than otherwise and this will allow some workers to push for higher pay,” he says.

“There is a lot of uncertainty around when the international borders will reopen, what that means for net overseas migration and how that will impact on wage outcomes.”

But “in industries with skill shortages, bargaining power between the employee and employer should move more favourably in the direction of the employee and higher wages should be forthcoming,” he concludes.

Higher wages is what the government’s hoping for, of course. Interesting times lie ahead.

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Unless Morrison does a lot more, the recovery will be weak and slow

I fear we may be changing places with the United States. I fear the economy’s rapid rebound may have misled Scott Morrison into believing we’re home and hosed. I fear the Smaller Government mentality may trip us up again.

In response to the global financial crisis of 2008, the Americans and Europeans spent huge sums and ran up big budget deficits and public debt. They had to rescue their teetering banks and get their frozen economies going again.

It worked. The financial crisis dissipated and their economies started to recover. But before long they got a bad case of the Smaller Government frights. Look at those huge deficits! What have we done? Our children will drown in government debt!

So they put their budgets into reverse and cut government spending – especially spending aimed at helping the poor and unemployed – to get their deficits down and slow the growth in debt. Critics dubbed this a policy of “austerity”.

Trouble was, it backfired. Their economies weren’t growing strongly enough to withstand the withdrawal of government support. Their growth slowed, their budget deficits didn’t fall much, and their premature removal of support contributed to the deeper, structural problems that caused the developed economies to endure a decade of weak growth.

Point to note: unlike the Americans (and the others) our Rudd-Gillard government didn’t take fright and start slashing government spending. But now we’ve come to the global coronacession, it seems this time the roles may be reversed.

The Americans – who, admittedly, are in a much deeper hole than us – have just legislated a third, $US1.9 trillion ($2.5 trillion) spending package.

So what are we doing? With the economy having rebounded strongly in the second half of last year, we’re concluding the recovery’s in the bag and proceeding to wind back the main stimulus measures as fast as possible.

In the budget last October, the government foresaw the budget deficit falling from a peak of $214 billion last financial year to $88 billion next financial year.

At the Australian Financial Review’s business summit on Wednesday, one speech was given by Morrison and another by Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe. Their contrasting tones really worried me.

Morrison’s self-congratulatory speech could have come with a big, George W Bush-like sign, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. He said it had been a tough 12 months, “but here we are, leading the world out of the global pandemic and the global recession it caused”.

He recalled telling last year’s summit that the government’s economic response “would be temporary and have a clear fiscal [budgetary] exit strategy”.

And “thankfully, we are now entering the post-emergency phase of the . . . response. We can now switch over to medium and longer-term economic policy settings that support private sector, business-led growth in our economy.”

Get it? Now it’s the time for the government to pull back and for business to take the running. Why? “Because you simply cannot run the Australian economy on taxpayers’ money forever. It’s not sustainable.”

(Note the trademark Morrison argument-by-non-sequitur: since you can’t do it forever, you mustn’t do it for another few years.)

Trouble is, Lowe gave an unusually sombre speech, highlighting the key respects in which business wouldn’t be taking the running.

He warned that the better-than-expected rebound after the lifting of the lockdown “does not negate the fact that there is still a long way to go and that the Australian economy is operating well short of full capacity. There are still many people who want a job and can’t find one and many others want to work more hours”.

“And on the nominal side of the economy [that is, on wages and prices] we have not yet experienced the same type of bounce-back that we have in the indicators of economic activity [such as employment and GDP]. For both wages and prices, there is still a long way to go to get back to the outcomes we are seeking.”

One of the main ways we get “business-led growth” is by growth in its investment in expansion. But it’s clear Lowe’s worried that it’s not really happening and may not for some years.

“While there was a welcome pick-up in the December quarter, particularly in machinery and equipment investment, investment is still 7 per cent below the level a year earlier . . . Non-residential construction is especially weak, with the forward-looking indicators suggesting that this is likely to remain so for a while yet,” he said.

Since 2010, business investment as a proportion of gross domestic product has averaged just 9 per cent, compared with 12 per cent over the previous three decades.

“A durable recovery from the pandemic requires a strong and sustained pick-up in business investment. Not only would this provide a needed boost to aggregate demand over the next couple of years, but it would also help build the [stock of physical capital] that is needed to support future production,” Lowe said.

Next is weak wage growth. “For inflation to be sustainably within the 2 to 3 per cent [target] range, it is likely that wages growth will need to be sustainably above 3 per cent . . .

“Currently, wages growth is running at just 1.4 per cent, the lowest rate on record. Even before the pandemic, wages were increasing at a rate that was not consistent with the inflation target being achieved. Then the pandemic resulted in a further step-down. This step-down means that we are a long way from a world in which wages growth is running at 3 per cent plus.”

The financial markets need to remember that you don’t get high inflation without high wages. Business needs to remember that its sales won’t grow strongly if it keeps sitting on its customers’ wages.

And Morrison needs to remember that if he withdraws budgetary support at a time when business is unlikely to take up the slack, the economy will go flat and the voters will blame him.

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Coronacession: great initial rebound, but recovery yet to come

If you’re not careful, you could get the impression from this week’s national accounts that, after huge budgetary stimulus, the economy is recovering strongly and, at this rate, it won’t be long before our troubles are behind us.

The Australian Bureau of Statistics issued figures on Wednesday showing that the economy – real gross domestic product – grew by 3.1 per cent over just the last three months of 2020. This followed growth of 3.4 per cent in the September quarter.

When you remember that, before the virus arrived, the economy’s average rate of growth was only a bit more than 2 per cent a year, that makes it look as though the economy’s taken off like a stimulus-fuelled rocket.

Even the weather is helping. The drought has broken and we’ve had a big wheat harvest. We keep hearing about the Chinese blocking some of our exports, but much less about them going back to paying top dollar for our iron ore. This represents a massive transfer of income from China to our mining companies and the federal and West Australian governments.

So much so that our “terms of trade” – the prices we get for our exports compared with the prices we pay for our imports – improved by 4.7 per cent in the December quarter, and by 7.4 per cent over the year.

Sorry. It certainly is good, but it's not as good as it looks. The trick is that you can’t judge what’s happening as though this is just another recession. It’s called the coronacession because it’s unique – sui generis; one of a kind.

Normal recessions happen because the economy overheats and the central bank hits the interest-rate brakes to slow things down. But it overdoes it, so households and businesses get frightened and go back into their shell. The fear and gloom feed on each other and unemployment shoots up. (If you’ve heard of poets’ license, economists have a licence to mangle metaphors.)

This time, the economy was chugging along slowly, with the Reserve Bank using low interest rates to try to speed things up, when a pandemic arrived. Some people were so worried they stopped going to restaurants and pubs. But to stop the virus spreading, the government ordered many businesses to close and the whole nation to stay at home.

(To translate this into econospeak: normal recessions are caused by “deficient demand”; this one was caused by “deficient supply” - on government orders.)

Knowing this would cause much loss and hardship, governments spent huge sums to support individuals and firms, including the JobKeeper wage subsidy (intended to discourage idle firms from sacking their workers), the temporary JobSeeker supplement (to help those workers who were sacked), help business cash flows and much else.

The politicians and their econocrats assured us this would be sufficient to hold most of the economy intact until they’d be able to lift the lockdown. Despite much scepticism (including from me), this week’s figures offer further proof they were right.

The national lockdown was imposed in March, and caused GDP to contract by a previously unimaginable 7 per cent in just the June quarter. The national lockdown was lifted early in the September quarter, when most of that 7 per cent should have returned.

If it had, it would have been easier to see what it was: not the start of a “recovery”, but just the rebound when businesses are allowed to reopen and consumers to go out and shop.

But the need of our second biggest state, Victoria, to impose a second lockdown – which wasn’t lifted until November - has seen the rebound spread over two quarters, with a bit more to come in the present, March quarter.

When you study the figures, you see that most of the collapse in growth and rebound in the following two quarters is explained by just the thing you’d expect: the downs and ups in consumer spending. It dived by 12.3 per cent in the June quarter, then rebounded by 7.9 per cent in the following quarter and a further 4.3 per cent in the latest quarter.

Consumer spending grew strongly in the December quarter, even though the wind-back of federal support measures caused household disposable income to fall by 3.1 per cent. How could this be? It was possible because households cut their outsized rate of saving.

At the end of 2019, households were saving only 5 per cent of their disposable income. By the end of June, however, they were saving a massive 22 per cent. But by the end of last year this had fallen back to 12 per cent. This suggests people were saving less because they were worried about their future employment and more because they just couldn’t get out to shop.

Note that, by the end of December, the level of real GDP was still 1.1 per cent below what it was a year earlier. Economists figure we’ve rebounded to about 85 per cent of where we were. But what happens when, after the present quarter or next, we’re back to 100 per cent?

Will we keep growing at the rate of 3 per cent a quarter? Hardly. The easy part – the rebound – will be over, most of the budgetary stimulus will have been spent, and it will be back to the economy growing for all the usual reasons it grows.

Will it be back to growing at the 10-year average rate of 2.1 per cent a year recorded before the virus interrupted? If so, we’ll still have high unemployment – and no reason to fear rising inflation or higher interest rates.

But it’s hard to be sure we’ll be growing even that fast. On the Morrison government’s present intentions, there’ll be no more stimulus, little growth in the population, a weak world economy, an uncompetitive exchange rate thanks to our high export prices and, worst of all, yet more years of weak real growth in income from wages. The “recovery” could take an eternity.

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Evil Lord Keynes flies to rescue of disbelieving Liberals

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Year of wonders: Coronacession not as bad as feared

This year has been one steep learning curve for the nation’s medicos, economists and politicians. And you can bet there’ll be more “learnings” to learn in 2021.

Just as the epidemiologists learnt that the virus they assumed in their initial worst-case modelling of the effects of the pandemic wasn’t the virus we got, economists have learnt as they continually revised down their dire forecasts of the economic damage the pandemic and its lockdown would cause.

It reminds me of the “anchor and adjust” heuristic – mental shortcut – that behavioural economists have borrowed from the psychologists. Not only do humans not know what the future holds, they’re surprisingly bad at estimating the size of things.

They frequently estimate the absolute size of something by thinking of something else of known size – the anchor – and then asking themselves by how much the unknown thing is likely to be bigger or smaller than that known thing.

(Trick is, we often fail to ensure the anchor we use for comparison is relevant to the unknown thing. Experiments have shown that psychologists can influence the answers subjects give to a question such as “how many African countries are members of the United Nations?” by first putting some completely unrelated number into the subjects’ minds.)

The econocrats have been furiously anchoring-and-adjusting the likely depth and length of the coronacession all year.

Their initial forecasts of the size of the contraction in gross domestic product and rise in unemployment – which were anchored on the epidemiologists’ original modelling results – soon proved way too high. (Treasury’s first estimate of the cost of the JobKeeper wage subsidy scheme was way too high for the same reason.)

When Prime Minister Scott Morrison started assuring us the economy would “snap back” once the lockdown was over, many people (including me) expressed scepticism.

An economy couldn’t simply “hibernate” the way bears can. Businesses would collapse, some jobs would be lost permanently, and business and consumer confidence would take a lasting hit. There’d be some kind of bounce-back, but it would be way smaller and slower than Morrison was implying.

Wrong. The first reason we overestimated the hit from the pandemic was our much-greater-than-expected success in suppressing the virus. Early expectations were for total hours worked to fall by 20 per cent and the rate of unemployment to rise to 10 per cent.

Morrison’s impressive handling of the pandemic – being so quick to close Australia’s borders, acting on the medicos’ advice, setting up the national cabinet, conjuring up personal protective equipment, and encouraging the states to build up their testing and tracing capability – gets much of the credit for this part of our overestimation.

But the main reason things haven’t turned out as badly as feared is that the economy has rebounded much more in line with Morrison’s assurance than with the doubters’ fears. Victoria’s second wave made this harder for some to see, but last week’s labour force figures for November make it very clear.

Total employment fell by 870,000 between March and May, but by November it had increased by 730,000, an 84 per cent recovery. Victoria accounted for most of the jobs growth in November and now has pretty much caught up with the other states – the more remarkable because its lockdown was so much longer and painful.

Admittedly, more than all the missing 140,000 jobs are full-time, suggesting that some formerly full-time jobs may have become part-time.

By the time of the delayed budget 10 weeks ago, the forecast peak in the unemployment rate had been cut to 8 per cent, but in last week’s budget update it was cut to 7.5 per cent by the first quarter of next year.

If this is achieved it will show that the coronacession isn’t nearly as severe as the recession of the early 1990s – in which unemployment reached a plateau rather than a peak of 11 per cent – or the recession of the early 1980s, with its plateau of 10 per cent.

Similarly, Treasurer Josh Frydenberg now expects the unemployment rate to return to its pre-pandemic level (of 5 per cent or so) in about four years, in contrast to the six years it took following the 1980s recession and the 10 years it took following the ‘90s recession.

Question is, why has the rebound been so much stronger than even the government’s forecasts predicted? Two reasons – but I’ll save them for next Monday.

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The secret sauce is missing from our recovery recipe

According to Reserve Bank deputy governor Dr Guy Debelle, a big lesson from the global financial crisis was “be careful of removing the stimulus too early”. Good point, and one that could yet bring Scott Morrison and his nascent economic recovery unstuck. But there’s something that’s even more likely to be his – and our – undoing.

Debelle was referring to the way the British and other Europeans, having borrowed heavily to bail out their banks and stimulate a recovery in the real economy, took fright at their mountain of debt and, before the recovery had got established, undercut it by slashing government spending. The consequences – contributing to more than a decade of weak growth - are hardly to be recommended.

The Yanks have been doing something similar this time round, with the Republican-controlled Senate agreeing to a huge initial stimulus package but, with the nation caught in a ferocious second round of the pandemic, having so far steadfastly refused a second package.

It almost seems a design flaw of conservative governments always to be tempted to pull the plug too early.

So premature withdrawal of stimulus is certainly a significant risk to the strength of our recovery. But I doubt it’s the biggest one. We should be giving much more thought than we have been to the sources of growth that will keep the economy heading onward and upward once the stimulus peters out.

The basic idea of managing the macro economy is that, when it’s flat, you use budgetary and interest-rate stimulus to give it a kick start, but then all the usual, natural drivers of growth take over.

Such as? We can talk about population growth, but it could well take more than a year or two to return to its accustomed annual rate of 1.5 per cent. And, in any case, it does far less to increase gross domestic product per person than it suits its promoters to admit.

We can talk about business investment spending but, though it does add to demand for goods and services, it’s essentially derived demand. That is, it doesn’t spring up spontaneously so much as grow in response to the growth in consumers’ demand for the goods and services businesses produce.

This being so, the government’s various tax incentives intended to get businesses investing in advance of the surge in consumer demand are unlikely to get far.

Up to 60 per cent of aggregate demand comes from household consumption. But the strong growth in consumer spending in the September quarter – with more to come this quarter – isn’t a sign that healthy growth in consumption has resumed. It’s just the semi-automatic rebound in spending following the lifting of the lockdown.

The leap in the household saving rate to a remarkable 18.9 per cent of disposable income is some combination of greater “precautionary” saving – “Who knows whether I’ll yet lose my job?” – and pent-up demand caused by the lockdown.

As things return to something reminiscent of normal, we can expect people to run down this excess saving to keep their spending returning to normal despite higher unemployment and widespread wage freezes.

But this is a once-only catch-up, spread over several quarters, not a return to on-going healthy real growth in consumer spending. For this, the occasional tax cut can help – though not by much if its prime beneficiaries are the top 20 per cent of income-earners, as scheduled for July 2024 – but there’s simply no substitute for healthy real growth in the dominant source household income: wages.

Real wage growth is the secret sauce missing from the hoped-for recovery. The Reserve Bank’s latest forecasts are for real wage growth of a mere 0.25 percentage points in each of calendar 2020, 2021 and 2022.

The econocrats don’t want to dampen spirits by admitting what they surely know: that without decent growth in real wages there’s little hope of a sustained recovery. Reserve governor Dr Philip Lowe’s recent remarks say we’re unlikely to see much growth in real wages until a rate of unemployment down to 4.5 per cent means employers must bid up wages in their competition to attract all the skilled labour they need.

This implies that, even if we were to achieve healthy rates of improvement in the productivity of labour – a big if – it’s no longer certain that organised labour retains the bargaining power to ensure ordinary households get their fair share of the spoils; that real wages still grow in line with productivity.

The government and its advisers ought to be grappling with the question of how we can get real wages up – but I doubt that’s what we’ll see this week when it reveals its plans for yet more “reform” of industrial relations.

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