Misbehaviour thrives in our age of capitalism without capitalists

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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We should stop using a blunt instrument to manage the economy

In the economy, as in life, it helps a lot if you learn from your mistakes. Or, if you’re in public life, from the mistakes of your predecessors.

Accordingly, the caning that former Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe got for his assurance that interest rates wouldn’t rise before 2024 does much to explain why his successor, Michele Bullock, has been so persistently cagey about the future of rates.

Even as she’s announced a decision that the official cash rate was to be left unchanged, she’s warned that it may need to rise in future. And indeed, that the case for raising it had been seriously considered.

But last week, with the herd sniffing in the wind the smell of rate cuts, she took her life in her hands and got a lot more specific – though not before muttering the incantation that she was not providing “forward guidance” (that was the crime Lowe was convicted of).

In a carefully rehearsed line, she said that a “near-term reduction in the cash rate does not align with the board’s current thinking”. Oh yes, and what does “near term” mean? The next six months, she said.

“Current” thinking. Get it? In other words, that thinking could change over, say, the next six months. Especially because, as she repeated, the board’s decisions would depend on what the economic indicators were telling it. And, as she keeps saying, “the outlook remains highly uncertain”.

It’s clear many people aren’t convinced the board’s thinking against cutting rates will stay unchanged for the next six months. Because the financial markets are so heavily into betting, their predictions are almost always based on what they expect the Reserve will do.

But there are plenty of other, simpler souls, whose emphasis is on what they believe the Reserve should do to ensure it avoids the recession it says it wants to avoid.

The other point about learning from your mistakes and adventures is the familiar problem that those who were around at the time of lesson-learning pass on, handing over to people who weren’t around to have learnt.

This is what worries me as the Reserve ploughs on, determined to ensure the inflation rate returns to the centre of its target range within a time that the Reserve itself judges to be the maximum time acceptable. This determination seems to be regardless of the source of the forces that are slowing the return to mid-target and making it “bumpy”.

When the Reserve was granted operational independence by the elected government in the mid-1990s, its bosses at the time understood a truth I’m not sure their successors still understand. When you’re not free of the politicians, you can leave the politics to them. But when you are free of them, you have to do your own politics.

Now, I’ve been a great supporter of central bank independence. It’s been one experiment that time has shown to be a big improvement on leaving interest rates to the pollies. But we, and the central bankers, must understand that central bank independence is an uneasy fit with democracy.

We now have a situation where the central bank has the most control over whether the economy is plunged into severe recession, but the only people the voters can punish for this are not the central bankers, but the government of the day.

So, to get specific, if the Reserve Bank decides inflation can’t be fixed without a recession or, more likely, miscalculates and leaves interest rates too high for too long, it won’t be Michele Bullock that voters punish, it will be Anthony Albanese and his government.

Guess what? Should that happen, Labor is likely to be angry and vengeful. And, as Bullock’s predecessors understood, should government pass to the Liberals, their strongest emotion is likely not to be gratitude, but a determination that the Reserve won’t be allowed to trip them up the way it tripped up Labor.

With independent central banks being the long-established convention throughout the developed world, would any government of ours be game to strip the Reserve of its independence? Probably not.

But politicians have other, less noticeable ways of bringing independent institutions to heel. The usual way – practised by the previous federal government with the Administrative Appeals Tribunal and the Fair Work Commission, and by Donald Trump with the US Supreme Court – is to stack appointments to the board with people who share the government’s predispositions.

So there will be a way for the politicians to pass the voters’ punishment on to the Reserve should it stuff up. This is why it does have to do its own politics.

And there’s another, far more positive way that could be used to clip the Reserve’s wings. This episode of tightening, much more than any previous episode since the day-to-day management of the macroeconomy was handed over to the Reserve in the 1980s, has revealed just how unfair and ineffective it is to make the manipulation of interest rates the dominant instrument for managing the strength of demand.

As research by Associate Professor Ben Phillips of the Australian National University has confirmed, the much-lamented cost-of-living crisis has been imposed on households with big mortgages far more than on any other households.

When you take account of the way rents actually fell during the lockdowns, renters haven’t been hard hit, while those who own their homes outright have been laughing. People on pensions or the dole have been protected by indexation.

So the reliance on interest rates to reduce demand is hugely unfair. But it’s also lacking in effectiveness. All of us have contributed to the excessive demand for goods and services, but only the minority of us with big mortgages have been pressed directly to pull back our spending.

This is why our management of the macroeconomy needs reform. We need another, much broader-based instrument that could be used as well as, or in place of, interest rates. Temporary changes in the rate of the goods and services tax are one possibility, but I’m attracted to the idea of temporary changes to the rate of compulsory superannuation contributions.

The two instruments – one interest rates, and the other budgetary – could be controlled by a new independent authority.

Despite all the Reserve’s apologies for having just a single, blunt tool and all the hardship it causes home buyers, we’ll wait a long time before it suggests sharing its power with a rival independent authority.

As well, the banks have ways of ensuring they benefit from rising interest rates, while financial markets want to keep betting at Reserve Bank race days.

So I’m tempted by the thought that only if the Reserve stuffs up and causes a severe recession are we likely to see the reform to macroeconomic management we so badly need.

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What a way to start Easter - a plan to smash the nest-egg

Most of us are too young to see it, but a big way the federal government affects our lives is through its system of compulsory superannuation. As you get older and retirement becomes a lot less distant, you begin to realise that the rules of super – and successive governments’ tinkering with those rules – will have a significant impact on the up to 30 years of your life after you stop working.

When the age pension was introduced more than a century ago, many men didn’t live long enough to reach the age of eligibility, 65. But our greater prosperity, improvements in public health and advances in medical science have changed all that.

Although the age of pension eligibility – for women as well as men – has been raised to 67, and no doubt will reach 70 one day, our longevity has increased by more, making it possible, particularly for women, to live up to 30 years in retirement.

But the introduction of compulsory super in the early 1990s now means that people retiring after about 2030 will do so with so much super that their eligibility for the age pension will be between limited and non-existent.

Since the introduction of that new system, almost every government has changed it. Why? Because the new compulsory system was bolted onto an old voluntary system of tax concessions that proved to be far too generous to high-income earners and too mean to lower-income earners.

Everyone knows the age pension costs the government a lot of money. What many don’t realise is that the tax concessions attached to super contributions and to the subsequent earnings on those contributions also cost the government a lot in the form of income tax collections forgone.

So, all the super changes since those made by the Howard government in 2007 (which gave well-off Baby Boomers like me a huge free kick) have aimed to reduce super’s cost to the budget by reducing the tax breaks going to high earners.

Take my word, there’ll be many similarly motivated changes to come. Those made last year by Treasurer Jim Chalmers won’t be the last.

One way to limit the budgetary cost of super is to stress that its sole purpose is to provide people with enough money to live comfortably in retirement. What it’s not meant to be used for is letting people maximise their children’s inheritance (thus widening the gap between rich and poor).

Trouble is, the compulsory super system is designed to deliver people a lump sum of money upon their retirement for them to use as they choose. It’s easy to see this lump sum as your nest-egg, the amount you’ve saved over a lifetime of working.

If so, surely it’s up to me and my spouse to decide how much of that sum we choose to spend on living expenses and how much we choose to leave for our kids? I’m sure many people think the right thing to do is to live as much as possible on the interest and other earnings from the lump sum so the principal can be passed on largely intact.

This is where a proposal of two economists from the Australian National University, professors Andrew Podger and Robert Breunig, comes in.

But first, one insight of “behavioural” economics, borrowed from psychology, is that people can react very differently to the same circumstances, depending on how they’re packaged or, as the psychologists say, “framed”. It’s been shown that surgeons much prefer a 90 per cent success rate to a 10 per cent failure rate.

This, of course, is spin doctoring 101. Reminds me of the story about the bloke who invented death insurance. Didn’t sell many policies until he changed the name to life insurance.

Podger and Breunig remembered that, in the days before compulsory super, it was limited mainly to public servants who ended up with a lifetime pension, most of which could be passed on to a surviving spouse. It never occurred to them that super had anything to do with inheritance.

So, if you want to stop people with super payouts using them (and all the tax concessions that contribute so much to their size) as a vehicle for enriching their kids, why not move to a system where people are encouraged to use their lump sum to buy a lifetime pension.

The amount of the pension would be determined by the size of the lump sum. Some people scrimp and save in retirement because they can’t know when they’ll die, and they’re not sure their money will last the distance.

One great attraction of a lifetime pension is that it shifts this “longevity risk” onto the provider of the pension.

In the jargon of high finance, such a pension is called an “annuity”. You can buy annuities today, but most are for fixed periods, and they’re not popular. To make them more attractive, they’d have to be for life, and this would require them to be backed by the government.

Don’t shake your head. It could happen.

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How top earners kid themselves (and us) they're overtaxed

Apparently, the nation’s chief executives and other top people are groaning under the weight of the tax they pay. Is it any wonder they’re doing such an ordinary job of running the country’s big businesses? When you see what’s left of their pay after tax, it’s a wonder they bother turning up.

I know this will shock you – just as it does every time the business media remind their readers of it. According to the latest available figures, for 2020-21, the top-earning 1 per cent of taxpayers paid more than 18 per cent of the total income tax take.

Taxpayers in the top 10 per cent paid 46 per cent of the total income tax collection of $237 billion.

Think of it. Just the top 10 per cent pay almost half of all the taxes. Do you know that the bottom 50 per cent of taxpayers pay less than 12 per cent? Talk about lifters and leaners. Those lazy good-for-nothings have no idea how easy they get it. And still, they whinge unceasingly about the cost of living.

How’s your bulldust detector going? All the figures I’ve given you are true, but, like many of the things said in the political debate, they’re misleading. If you’re not smart enough to see how they’re misleading, that’s your lookout.

It’s true that because income tax is “progressive” – people at the top pay a much higher proportion of their income than those at the bottom – people at the top end up paying a much higher share of the total tax take.

That’s because they’re considered able to bear a bigger share of the cost of government. And remember that about two-thirds of those in the bottom half would have (often not well-paid) part-time jobs.

But what the people who bang on about how much tax they’re paying want you to forget is that although income tax is the biggest tax we pay, it’s just one of the many taxes – federal, state and local – we pay.

In fact, it accounts for only about half of all the tax we pay. And almost all the other taxes are “regressive” – they hit the bottom end proportionally harder than the top.

So, take account of all the other taxes, and the rich man’s burden is a lot less heavy than the rich old men try to tell us.

It’s clear that, of all the taxes we pay, it’s personal income tax that the well-off most object to and want to pay a lot less of. Whenever you see them arguing that we need major tax system reform to “sharpen incentives to invest, innovate and hire” and make the system “genuinely productivity-enhancing”, that’s what they really mean.

Most voters approve of Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s decision to help ease cost-of-living pressure by diverting a big chunk of the stage 3 tax cuts from high-income earners to middle and lower earners, but the (Big) Business Council was distinctly disapproving.

“The [original] stage 3 package rewarded aspiration and started to address bracket creep with a simpler system”, but “the changes do not address any of the real issues with our tax system”, it said.

But if you’re not impressed by the argument that pretends income tax is the only tax that matters, the big business lobby has others. “Personal income contributes too much of our [total] tax revenue … [at] 51 per cent today,” it says, implying we should cut income tax and increase other, indirect taxes.

A related argument is that few countries are as reliant on income tax as we are. Figures for 2021 say our personal income tax as a proportion of total taxes is the fifth highest among the 38 member countries of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development.

Again, it’s true but misleading. It’s a false comparison because, unlike almost all the other countries, Australia uses income tax to cover the cost of social security payments – such as unemployment and sickness benefits, disability and age pensions, as well as healthcare benefits – whereas other countries cover these with separate, income-related social security contributions imposed on workers and their employers.

Calculations by Matt Grudnoff of the Australia Institute show that if you add to income tax the social security contributions imposed in other countries (and, in our case, add the states’ payroll taxes), our ranking goes from fifth highest to seventh lowest. So much for that argument.

Some people argue that we should add our compulsory employer superannuation contributions to our income tax, now set at 11 per cent of wages. But that argument is wrong because the super levy is not a tax.

Taxes involve the government making you pay money into its coffers, which is then spent by the government as it sees fit. With super contributions, the money goes into an account with a super fund that has your name on it and is always yours to spend as you see fit once you reach a certain age. If you die without spending it all, what’s left goes to your rellos.

And here’s another thing. One reason income tax accounts for as much as half of Australia’s total tax collections is that the Abbott government abolished former prime minister Julia Gillard’s carbon tax and her mining tax.

The very business lobby groups who supported these anti-tax-reform measures are now complaining that we’re too dependent on income tax. If they were genuine, the problem could be easily fixed: take up Professor Ross Garnaut’s proposal for a new, bigger “carbon solution levy”, which, by raising $100 billion a year, would greatly reduce our reliance on income tax.

Finally, don’t let the rich guys’ talk of high taxes fool you into believing Australia is a high-tax country. That’s the opposite of the truth. When you take total taxes as a proportion of gross domestic product, the OECD average in 2021 was 34 per cent. Ours was less than 30 per cent, making us ninth lowest. And only three of the eight lower countries are rich like us.

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Let's stop using interest rates to throttle people with mortgages

What this country needs at a time like this is economists who can be objective, who’re willing to think outside the box, and who are disinterested – who think like they don’t have a dog in this fight.

On Friday, Reserve Bank governor Michele Bullock, with her lieutenants, made her first appearance as governor before the House of Reps economics committee.

See if you can find the logical flaw in this statement she made: “The [Reserve’s] board understands that the rise in interest rates has put additional pressure on the households that have mortgages. But the alternative of lower interest rates and high inflation for a prolonged period would be even worse for these households, as well as all the households without mortgages.”

Sorry, that’s just Bullock doing her Maggie TINA Thatcher impression, mindlessly repeating the assertion that “There Is No Alternative”. Nonsense. There are various alternatives, and if economists were doing their duty by the country, they’d be talking about them, evaluating them and proposing them.

What’s true is that the Reserve has no alternative to using interest rates to slow demand. Some economists can be forgiven for being too young to know that we didn’t always rely mainly on interest rates to fight inflation, just as we didn’t always allow the central bank to dominate the management of the economy.

These were policy changes we – and the rest of the rich world – made in the early 1980s because we thought they’d be an improvement. In principle, now we’re more aware of the drawbacks of giving the central bank dominion over macroeconomic management, there’s no reason we can’t decide to do something else.

In practice, however, don’t hold your breath waiting for the Reserve to advocate making it share its power with another authority. Nor expect the reform push to be led by economists working in industries such as banking and the financial markets, which benefit from their close relations with the central bank.

What those with eyes should have seen in recent years is that relying so heavily on an instrument as blunt as interest rates is both inequitable and inefficient. It squeezes the third of households with mortgages – or the even smaller proportion with big mortgages – while hitting the remaining two-thirds or more only indirectly.

It’s largely by chance that the Reserve’s need to jam on the demand brakes has coincided with the worst shortage of rental accommodation in ages, thereby spreading the squeeze to another third of households. Had this not happened, the Reserve would have needed to bash up home buyers even more brutally than it has.

Clearly, it would be both fairer – and thus more politically palatable – and more effective to use an instrument that directly affected a much higher proportion of households. This should mean the screws wouldn’t have to be tightened so much, another advantage.

One obvious alternative tool would be to temporarily move the rate of the goods and services tax up (or, at other times, down) a percentage point or two.

Another alternative, one I like, is to divide compulsory employer superannuation contributions into a part permanently set at 11 per cent, and a part that could be varied temporarily between plus several percentage points and minus several points.

This would leave workers less able to keep spending (or more able to spend), as the managers of demand required to stabilise both inflation and unemployment.

Its great attraction is that it involves the government temporarily fiddling with people’s ability to spend, without actually taking any money from them. Surely, this would be the least politically painful way to manage demand.

Experience with central-bank dominance has shown us one big advantage: the economic car has been driven markedly better when the brake and the accelerator are controlled by econocrats independent of the elected government.

But this simply means we’d have to set up an independent authority to control all the instruments of macro management, whether monetary or fiscal.

Not all our economists have been too stuck in the mud of orthodoxy to think these new thoughts. They were canvased by professors Ross Garnaut and David Vines in their submission to the Reserve Bank inquiry – which, predictably, was brushed aside by a panel of economists anxious to stay inside the box.

A century ago, Australians were proud of the way we showed the world better ways of doing things, such as the secret ballot and votes for women. These days, our economists are dedicated followers of international fashion.

This means the country that should be leading the way to better tools to manage demand will wait until it becomes fashionable overseas. Why should we be first? Because our unusual practice of having mainly variable-rate home loans means our use of the interest-rate tool bites a lot harder and faster, thus making our monetary policy a lot blunter than theirs.

Economists may not fret much about how badly some punters are hurting as the economic managers rapidly correct the consequences of their gross miscalculations – the Reserve played a big part in the excessive stimulus during the COVID lockdowns – but one day the politicians who carry the can politically for these miscalculations will revolt against the arrogance of their economic gurus.

Reserve Bank governors – and, in earlier times, Treasury secretaries – privately congratulate themselves for being the last backstop protecting the nation against inflation. When no one else cares, they do. When no one else will impose a cost of living crisis on spendthrift consumers, they will.

Don’t you believe it. If they cared as much as they think they do, they’d care a lot more about effective competition policy. But when the economists leading the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission – Allan Fels and later, Rod Sims – were battling to get more power to reject anticompetitive mergers, they got precious little support from their fellow economists.

While the (Big) Business Council was lobbying privately to retain the laxity, backed up on the other side by a few Labor-Party-powerful unions that had done sweetheart deals with their big employers, the Reserve and Treasury were missing in action.

The people at the bottom of the inflation cliff boast about the diligence of their ambulance service, while doing nothing to help the people at the top of the cliff trying to erect a better safety fence.

If you were looking for examples of oligopolies with pricing power, you could start with the big four banks. If you were looking for examples of “regulatory capture” – where the bureaucrats supposed to be regulating an industry in the public interest get sweet-talked into going easy – you could start with the Reserve and banking (with Treasury not far behind).

In the natural conflict between the goals of financial stability and effective competition, the Reserve long ago decided we’d worry about competition later.

But the more concentrated we allow our industries to become, the more often the Reserve will have to struggle to control inflation surges, and the harder it will need to bash home-buyers on the head.

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Bosses are finding more innovative ways to handcuff their workers

When I joined the John Fairfax superannuation scheme 50 years ago on Wednesday, I little knew my new boss was trying to handcuff me. Fortunately, they were “golden handcuffs”. But these days, bosses use other, more blatant ways to tie their workers to them and stop wages growing so fast.

The Fairfax scheme I joined decades ago must have been fairly common among big companies in the years after World War II, when shortages of skilled labour were almost continuous.

From memory, the company offered to contribute an extra 6 per cent of my pay to the scheme, provided I contributed 4 per cent. That 4 per cent stopped many people joining the scheme, but not me.

What I didn’t realise was that, if you left the scheme before reaching retirement age, you got your own contributions back, with 3.75 per cent interest, but forfeited the company’s contributions and the accrued earnings on them.

But here’s the trick: the company didn’t keep the forfeited contributions and earnings, but transferred them to the scheme’s general fund, to be shared between those loyal employees who did stay until retirement.

Get it? The longer you’d worked for the company, the more you had to lose by leaving. Plus, the more you had to gain by staying on until retirement. You were bound to the company by golden handcuffs.

(A side-benefit to the Fairfax family was that much of the huge sum in the general fund was held in Fairfax shares, thereby increasing the family’s protection against a hostile takeover.)

Relax. My handcuffs are long gone, removed by Paul Keating’s introduction of compulsory super for employees and related reform of existing company super schemes, in the early 1990s. Today, all employer contributions and earnings are immediately "vested" in the employee, meaning you take them with you when you leave the company.

Now, I should remind you that mainstream economists are great believers in "the mobility of labour". The freer workers are to move to another employer offering a better job, or to start their own business, the more efficient the economy is likely to be, and the faster productivity will improve.

So the last thing economists approve of is employers being able to discourage, delay or even prevent their staff from moving on. That is, able to prevent market forces from working the way they should.

But as assistant minister for competition Dr Andrew Leigh reminded us last week, there’s much research showing that employers around the world are increasingly using "non-compete clauses" in their employees’ contracts. To get the job, you have to agree not to leave and work for one of its competitors for a set period, or to yourself set up in competition.

Couldn’t happen in a decent place like Australia? Don’t be so sure. Just as it’s taken longer for our chief executives to start believing they’re entitled to pay themselves many multiples more than they pay any of the company’s other employees, so they’ve been slower to follow the Yanks and Brits in handcuffing those who work under them.

Even so, an online survey conducted by Dan Andrews (not that one) from the e61 Institute, and Bjorn Jarvis from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, found that as many as one in five Australian workers is subject to a non-compete clause.

Smaller percentages of employees must agree not to poach the company’s workers after they’ve left, or not to solicit the business of their former employer’s clients.

The survey found that, as well as applying to senior executives, non-compete clauses may apply to many workers who have close contact with the customers: childcare workers, yoga instructors and specialists in IVF.

It also found that competition clauses applied to 39 per cent of managers, 26 per cent of community and personal service workers, and to 14 per cent of clerical and admin workers.

Leigh says that shifting jobs is typically associated with a substantial jump in pay. Yes, that’s probably why few recruits resist when the new boss slips in some clause about what happens if you leave. Leave? I haven’t even arrived yet.

But Leigh says even many low-paid workers are constrained from shifting to a better job. Don’t forget that, these days, many government-subsidised services are provided by small, for-profit providers.

I hire you to work in my childcare or aged care (or yoga) business, but you prove good at it, and popular with the parents or the oldies’ children, so you leave and set up for yourself, taking some of my customers with you.

Leigh says that, even if some non-compete clauses wouldn’t stand up in court, they are rarely tested. (That’s another yawning gap between theory and practice. In theory, we’re all equal before the law. In practice, lawyers cost big bucks – and the boss has a lot more bucks to play with than you do.)

“In most cases,” Leigh says, “workers subject to a non-compete clause will either choose to suffer the period of enforced ‘gardening leave’ [the months or years that you’ve agreed not to join a competitor or become one] or will stay with their existing employer.”

But this is about more than employers treating you like you’re their slave. It’s also about wages. Especially where workers possess skills that aren’t easy to come by, competition between employers pushes wages up. If you can find a way to dampen that competition, you’ve kept a lid on wage costs.

“This means that workers miss out on potential wage gains,” Leigh says. “It also makes it harder for start-up firms to attract the talent they need to challenge incumbents. In turn, productivity suffers.”

The Bureau of Statistics has added a question about non-compete clauses to its regular survey of employee earnings and hours, which it will publish later this month.

The competition taskforce within Treasury, set up by the government last year, will be looking closely at this information to learn more about the effects of non-compete clauses on workers and businesses in Australia.

Have you noticed how, whenever the (Big) Business Council reads us another lecture on the need for major reform to get our productivity improving again, non-compete clauses never rate a mention?

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Grim Reaper is catching up with the Baby Boomers, waving bills

Having witnessed the last days of my parents and in-laws, I don’t delude myself – as they did – that I’ll be able to avoid being carted off to an old people’s home. Sorry, an aged care residential facility.

Actually, I dream of dying in the saddle. My last, half-finished column would be the announcement that I’d finally made way for the bright young women coming up behind me. That’s assuming they hadn’t already found a chance to push me under a bus.

Speaking of bright young women, Anthony Albanese’s Minister for Aged Care and Sport, Anika Wells, seems to be attacking her job with much more enthusiasm than her Coalition predecessors.

In a speech to the National Press Club last week, she noted that Labor inherited a system that a royal commission had characterised with a single word – “neglect”. She’d spent the past 12 months engaged in “triage” and “urgent reform” and was now able to think about the future.

And what’s she been thinking? “I don’t want Australians to be scared about the care they will be provided in later life,” she said. “I don’t want daughters and sons worried about the treatment their parents will receive.”

The Howard government’s Aged Care Act of 1997 was aimed at saving money by turning aged care over to community and for-profit providers. It was focused on how the providers were to run their services, setting out their obligations and responsibilities.

But, as recommended by the royal commission, the government planned to introduce a new act next year, this time focused on the rights of older people, with “a clear statement that the care provided to residents is safe and of high quality”.

Labor had already done much to fix the system, she said, but there were more challenges ahead, and “we must act now”. Why? Because “the Baby Boomers are coming”. (I’d have thought they’d come some time ago, and the real problem was their looming departure.)

But I imagine the Boomers (present company excepted) will be living a lot longer than previous generations – thanks to advances in medical science and being the first generation to realise that exercise was something to be sought and enjoyed, not avoided.

But though their arrival in aged care may be at a later age, their later lives won’t be trouble-free and certainly not doctor-free.

One change we’ll be seeing is more in-home care. Almost everyone would prefer to keep living at home rather than go off to a “facility” (sounds like a toilet block). The previous government did introduce the home-care package, but it was expensive and so was limited in how many people were given it.

Wells is introducing a new Support at Home program in July 2025 which, by delaying or eliminating people’s move to facility care, should save money.

But her big announcement last week was the setting up of an aged care taskforce – chaired by her good self – to answer the royal commission’s “great unanswered question”: How to make aged care equitable and sustainable into the future?

Which is a politician’s way of saying, “How we gonna pay for all this?”

One of the commissioners wanted a new aged care tax levy of 1 per cent of everyone’s taxable income (which, in practice, would be added to the present 2 per cent Medicare levy), whereas the other wanted some unspecified combination of a levy and a means-tested contribution from users.

Wells notes that, within a decade, we’ll have, for the first time ever, more people aged over 65 than under 18. And the proportion of people aged 15 to 64 – the people working and paying income tax – will shrink.

Now, this is the point where we need to remember that we’ve gone for decades stacking the financial rules against the younger generation and in favour of the oldies. We’ve kept handing tax breaks to the ageing. Old people can have good incomes that are largely untaxed, whereas young people on the same money have to pay up - and pay for their tertiary education.

It’s not true that every Boomer’s rolling in it – there are poor people in every generation – but most have done pretty well. Most were able to climb aboard the home-ownership gravy train when homes were still affordable. Many have been able to buy an investment property or two on the top.

And though the compulsory superannuation scheme hasn’t applied to the whole of their working lives, they’ll be retiring with a lot more, hugely taxpayer-subsidised super than any previous generation.

So, the idea of spreading the entire cost of the Boomers’ aged care – whether in-home or in-facility – across all those people young enough to still be working and paying income tax ought to be unthinkable.

If Labor doesn’t summon the courage to ask those Baby Boomers who’ve done OK to help pay directly for the cost of their highly privileged lives’ last stage, it will just prove what a rotten world Albo and the rest of us have left our offspring.

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Don't waste sympathy on self-funded retirees ... like me

You probably haven’t noticed, but I never write about self-funded retirees without adding a pejorative adjective – “so-called” or, better, “self-proclaimed”. As worthy causes go, they’re at the top of their own list, but not high on mine.

One day, a reader took me to task: “Why are you so down on self-funded retirees, Ross, when from what I can see, you’ll be one yourself when you retire?”

Ahem, ah, yes, well... Some explaining to do. If self-funded means you’re so well-off you couldn’t possibly meet the means test to be eligible for the age pension then, yes, I’ll be self-funded. One thing I don’t have to look forward to is waiting on the phone for hours for help from those lovely souls at Centrelink.

In my experience, no one ever tells you they’re self-funded without expecting you to give them a medal. While other people have led spendthrift lives and now expect the taxpayer to support them in old age, I worked hard and saved my pennies, and now I’m getting nothing from the government.

What a good citizen I am. If only other people could be as self-sacrificing as I am. And, by the way, while we’re talking money, since it’s a bit of a struggle without the pension, I was wondering if the government could manage to give me a little something by way of appreciation. Say, a special tax offset for seniors, or easier access to a healthcare card?

What gets me about all this is that it’s just the wrong way round. It’s not the supposedly self-funded who are doing the taxpayer a favour, it’s the pensioners who retire without much in the way of super.

Why’s that? Because so much of any superannuation balance comes not from what you saved, but from the accumulated tax breaks you were given. I guess what many people don’t realise is that you get compound interest not just on what you contributed, but also on the concessions you received, year after year.

Many people retire with quite modest superannuation payouts, which do little to reduce their eligibility for the age pension. According to the Association of Superannuation Funds of Australia, the median balance for people aged 60 to 64 is less than $360,000 for men and less than $290,000 for women.

But people who retire with a super balance big enough to extinguish all or most of their pension eligibility will be getting far more help from the government than someone on the full pension. So, for such people to think of themselves as “self-funded” is delusional.

Consider these figures from Brendan Coates of the Grattan Institute. In 2019-20, the average tax break on earnings received by people with at least $1.6 million in super totalled about $60,000 a year. This was nearly three times the value of the single pension.

It’s not well understood that, whereas the age pension costs the government about $55 billion a year, the annual cost of superannuation tax concessions is almost as large – $52 billion. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be many more years before the super concessions exceed the cost of the pension.

Now perhaps, you understand why, at a time when so many demands are being made on the budget, Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and Treasurer Jim Chalmers have decided to make the super tax breaks less generous for the 0.5 per cent of people with a super balance exceeding $3 million.

According to Coates’ calculations, this will free up about $1 billion a year for use in more deserving causes – decent aged care, for instance. Think about it. Balances of more than $3 million – I couldn’t spend that much money before I died if I tried. Especially because, the older you get, the less inclined you are to do things that cost a lot of money. You could be living it up at the George V Hotel in Paris, but you don’t feel like it.

According to Coates, nearly 90 per cent of the tax breaks go to the wealthiest 20 per cent of retirees. So, the critics are right to describe super as it presently stands as a taxpayer-funded inheritance scheme for wealthy Australians.

It’s only natural for people to aspire to leave their offspring well provided for. What’s not natural is for you to expect other, less fortunate taxpayers to contribute to your kids’ greater comfort.

The trouble with super is that it’s arse-about. The people who have the highest incomes, and thus the greatest ability to save, are given the greatest assistance, while the people with the least ability to save are given little or no help.

Oh, perhaps I should have mentioned it. If these appalling Labor people go ahead with lopping the tall poppies of superannuation, they’ll be aiming their scythe directly at me. Please write to the treasurer and say how terribly unfair this would be.

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Breaking news: unions play a central role, for good and ill

Welcome back to a tripartite world, where Labor has returned to power and its union mates are back inside the tent – and at last week’s jobs summit could be seen moving in their furniture. For those who don’t remember the 1983 glory days of Bob Hawke, Paul Keating, consensus, the Accord, and former ACTU secretary Bill Kelty as an honorary member of the cabinet, it will take some getting used to.

For those who’ve been watching only since the John Howard era, it may even seem unnatural. One of Howard’s first acts upon succeeding Hawke and Keating in 1996 was to delegitimise the unions.

He allowed the tripartite committees to lapse, and didn’t reappoint the ACTU secretary to the board of the Reserve Bank. I doubt if many even informal links between ministers and union leaders continued.

The Libs didn’t know the union bosses, and didn’t want to know ’em. They were the enemy – always had been, always would be. Big business bosses, on the other hand, would be privately consulted and were always welcome to phone up for a quiet word with the minister.

This, by the way, helps explain the Reserve Bank’s pro-business bias. Its board is loaded with business worthies - who are there to help keep the central bankers’ feet on the ground – and its extensive program of regular and formal “liaison” with key firms and industries, doesn’t include asking union leaders what they think’s happening.

If you wonder why Reserve governor Dr Philip Lowe’s remarks about wages can sometimes seem naive – even out of “boomer fantasy land” – it’s because he only ever hears the bosses’ side of the story. And I doubt if they ever shock his neoclassical socks by talking about how they exercise their market power.

It’s easy to justify the Liberals’ delegitimation of the unions by noting that, these days, only about 14 per cent of employees belong to a union. But if you find that argument persuasive, you’re revealing your ignorance of our wage-fixing institutions.

Most workers are subject to an industrial award, and there’s a union (and an employer or employer group) on one end of every award, and almost every enterprise agreement. In the Fair Work Commission’s annual wage review – which sets the wages of about a quarter of all employees – it’s the ACTU that stands against the employer groups arguing that times are tough, and they couldn’t possibly afford a rise of anything much.

So, to say the unions have what economists would call a giant “free-rider” problem – a lot of people happy to receive benefits without paying for them – is not to say they shouldn’t be given a seat at the table.

Liberals, business and their media cheer squad may be appalled by sanctification of the unions, but at least Labor’s making it clear it wants business to keep its seat at the table. It will be consulted. This too is Labor’s inheritance from the Hawke-Keating experience: to the extent possible, keep business on side.

The ACT’s second-biggest industry – lobbying – will be busier than ever. It’s third-biggest – consulting – not so much.

What all agreed at the summit is that Labor has taken over an economy with many structural problems that need fixing. Not the least of these is that the wage-bargaining system is broken.

What we learnt last week, from everything ministers said and from the 14-page “outcomes document” is that, in marked contrast to its predecessor, Labor does intend to fix things.

The whole summit, tripartite business is about giving all the key players a say in how things are fixed, giving them a heads-up on the government’s intentions, and an introduction to the minister. About winning support – or, at least, acquiescence – from as many of the powerful players as possible, to minimise the political risks of making changes.

Under Labor’s tripartism, the three parties aren’t equal. The government will, in the end, do what it decides to do. The unions start well ahead of business, because of their special relationship with a Labor government.

They have a further advantage over business: solidarity. The many unions are used to speaking with one, unified voice through the ACTU, whereas business fractures into big versus small, and rival employer groups. The unions know all about playing one business group off against another.

What business has to decide is whether it wants to stay in the government’s tent or walk out. Because, in business, pragmatism usually trumps idealism, my guess is that business will play ball for as long as Labor looks like staying in office.

After the summit ended, the ACTU’s statement said it had always “been clear that we need to get wages moving and increase skills and training for local workers in order for unions to support lifting skilled migration levels. We welcome that this summit has delivered those commitments.”

It was all a talk fest? No, a deal was done and that quote reveals just what the deal was. However, a big part of the business side didn’t support fixing the wage-bargaining system by returning to “multi-employer” bargaining.

What’s clear is that the government will be pressing on with some form of multi-employer bargaining. What isn’t yet clear is what that form will be. Until it’s finalised, business will be busy inside the tent pushing for whatever modifications it can get.

With Labor back in power and the unions back walking the halls of power, it’s important to understand the relationship between the two arms of the “labour movement”. Whereas the relationship between the Libs and business is quite informal, the relationship between Labor and the unions is highly formal. They’re not mates, they’re close rellos.

Historically, the unions set up the Labor Party to be their political arm. To this day, those unions that pay dues to the Labor Party still wield considerable influence over it and the members of the federal parliamentary caucus.

Labor parliamentarians are affiliated with particular unions, which gives some of the bigger unions considerable influence over preselections, on who gets to stay leader of the party, and on certain policy matters.

When Labor is in government, businesses in certain industries use their unions to get to the government. This explains why Labor governments haven’t done as much as they should to tighten up our competition law.

And whereas Howard left the Libs with a visceral hatred of industry super funds, Labor’s links with the unions – and the unions’ links with the ticket-clippers of the super industry – mean it can’t always be trusted to favour the interests of super members over super managers.

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Cutting real wages will help inflation, but weaken the economy

At last, as the election campaign reaches the final stretch, we’ve found something worth debating. Anthony Albanese has found his spine and supported a big rise in award wages, while Scott Morrison says a decent rise for the masses is a terrible idea that would damage the economy.

First the politics, then the economics. My guess is history will judge this to be the misstep that did most to cost Morrison the election. Successful Liberal leaders – John Howard, for instance – know never to be caught within cooee of a sign saying “wages should be lowered”. It’s not the way to woo outer-suburbs battlers to the Liberal cause.

That Morrison should defy this precedent in a campaign where the cost of living has become by far the biggest issue is all the more surprising.

Between them, the two contenders have revived and highlighted the oldest stereotype in Australia’s two-party politics: the Labor Party is - surprise, surprise – the party of ordinary workers, and will always champion their interests, whereas the Liberals are the party of business, and will always champion the interests of business.

It’s because the Libs are seen as the bosses’ party that they’re instinctively regarded as better at managing the budget and the economy – a mindset Morrison is desperately seeking to exploit in “these uncertain times”.

But the other side of the penny is that Labor, the party of the workers, is the party that cares, and will spend more on providing government services. Which party’s best at industrial relations and wages? One guess.

But how do the minimum wage arrangements work? And what are the broader economic implications of a rise high enough to cover the 5.1 per cent rise in consumer prices over the year to March - or not high enough, so that wages fall in “real terms”?

The Fair Work Commission conducts an annual wage review to determine the increase in the national minimum wage on July 1. Last year’s increase of 2.5 per cent applied to the 2 per cent of employees on the national minimum rate, but also the 23 per cent of employees whose wage is set by one of the various minimum rates for workers in different job classifications set out in each of the more than 100 industrial awards established by the commission.

The national minimum wage rate is about $20 an hour, or about $40,000 a year for a full-time worker. About 2.7 million workers have their wage set in this way.

A 5 per cent increase in the national minimum wage would be worth about $1 an hour or about $2000 a year. Note, however, that many of those in more skilled award classifications would be earning much more than that.

The rises the industrial parties ask for in hearings before the commission are always “ambit claims”. The Australian Council of Trade Unions wants a rise of 5.5 per cent.

On the employer side, the Australian Industry Group says the most its member businesses could possibly afford is 2.5 per cent. The Australian Chamber of Commerce and Industry says the most it could run to is 3 per cent.

Morrison has implied it would be quite improper for a federal Labor government to seek to influence the decision of the independent commission. But the fact is federal and state governments routinely make submissions to provide information about the state of the economy and indicate how generous or tight-fisted they think the commission should be – though they rarely suggest a specific figure.

The commission will give due consideration to a government’s submission but, rest assured, it will do as it sees fit, usually awarding an increase somewhere between the employers’ lowball and the unions’ highball.

My guess is this year’s decision will be a lot higher than last year’s 2.5 per cent, but not nearly as high as 5.5 per cent.

That’s particularly because the commission can be expected to allow for the 0.5 percentage-point increase in employers’ compulsory contributions to their workers’ superannuation accounts this July. The unions would love to have their cake and eat it, but I doubt they’ll be allowed to.

Albanese says, “the idea that people who are doing it really tough at the moment should have a further cut in their cost of living is, in my view, simply untenable”.

Morrison claims a minimum-wage increase sufficient to stop wages falling behind the rise in consumer prices would be “reckless and dangerous”.

The Ai Group warns that “an excessive minimum wage increase would fuel inflation and lead to higher interest rates . . . than would otherwise be the case”. It would be detrimental to economic growth and job creation.

The chamber of commerce says “any increase of 5 per cent or more would inflict further pain on small business, and the millions of jobs they sustain and create. Small business cannot afford it”.

So, what do I think? I think it’s easy to exaggerate the economic cost of giving our lowest-paid workers a decent pay rise. Small business always cries poor and warns jobs will be lost. But there’s little empirical evidence that higher wages lead to job losses.

It’s true that giving a quarter of our workers little or no compensation for the jump in prices caused by pandemic supply disruptions and the Ukraine war would be the quickest and easiest way to get inflation back down to the Reserve Bank’s 2 to 3 per cent target range.

But it would also be hugely unfair to load that burden onto our lowest paid workers, while business profits escaped untouched. The Reserve will just have to be more patient if it doesn’t want to crunch the economy with big rate rises.

And here’s the bit the business lobby groups seem too short-sighted to see. The more we cut the real incomes of our businesses’ customers, the less businesses will be able to sell to them, and the more the economy will be in anything but the “strong” condition Morrison keeps claiming it’s in.

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Inheritance: the major life event no politician wants to mention

When I was growing up, my family didn’t have much. We lived rent-free in a succession of down-at-heel manses (the Salvos called them “quarters”), but my father’s stipend was a small one on which to support four kids.

Mum worried about where my parents would live after they retired but, with much scrimping and saving (including making my sisters hand over almost all their wages), they built and paid off a small cottage at Lake Macquarie, near Newcastle.

After my father died, Mum spent many impatient years in God’s waiting room, longing to be “promoted to Glory” and thus reunited with my Dad.

That was in 2004 but, though all she had was the cottage and a thousand or two in the bank, that was enough for the four of us to receive one or two hundred thousand each. By then, we were middle-aged and well established. It was nice to add it to the pile, but we didn’t desperately need it.

More people are receiving significant inheritances these days. They’re getting bigger and will get bigger still.

We worry that houses are becoming unaffordable, but the other side of ever-rising house prices is that inheritance has become an important event in most people’s lives. Many people look forward to it, and family disputes or unhappiness over wills is not uncommon.

But here’s a funny thing. When was the last time you heard a politician talking about inheritances? You didn’t. They never do. I’m sure they think about their own inheritance, but they never want to mention yours or anyone else’s.

In the 1970s, Australia became one of the few rich countries to abolish death duties (state and federal). People were so happy to see the end of them that death duties have become one of the bogeymen of federal politics.

Want to start a scare campaign? Spread a rumour that the other side has a secret plan to reintroduce death duties. Want to oppose limits on share franking credits? Claim it’s a form of death duties.

This is why, compared with other countries, we have little information – and even less reliable figures – on the size and dispersion of inheritances. The pollies fear that if they let the bureau of statistics ask people questions about their wealth, their opponents would jump to conclusions.

This explains why last week’s report from the Productivity Commission was “the first comprehensive research report on wealth transfers” and was initiated by the commission, not requested by the government.

The report explains that rising house prices are just the main reason inheritances are getting bigger. Another is that, with superannuation having been compulsory for about 30 years, more people are dying with unspent super balances. And, of course, family sizes are getting smaller.

The report finds that each generation has been wealthier than the previous one, though Baby Boomers have done particularly well. It found that $120 billion was transferred in 2018 – 90 per cent as inheritances and 10 per cent as earlier gifts – which was more than double that in 2002.

The average inheritance, we’re told, was $125,000. But that included a few large inheritances plus many much smaller ones. The average inheritance received by the wealthiest 20 per cent of recipients was $121,000, and by the poorest 20 per cent was about $35,000. Or so we’re told.

Not surprisingly, the children of rich parents received much bigger inheritances than the children of poor parents. Nor is it very surprising that the children of rich parents tend also to be rich, while the children of poor parents tend also to be poor.

But this may surprise: if you switch from focusing on absolute dollars to looking at relative size, you find that the smaller inheritances received by people without much wealth increase that wealth by a much higher percentage than the larger inheritances increase the wealth of already-rich recipients. The same thing can be seen in other countries’ figures for wealth transfers.

So, to a small extent, the growing prevalence of inheritance is reducing the gap between rich and poor. And, as the report’s authors stress, inheritance isn’t the main reason the children of the rich are also rich and the children of the poor also poor.

No, monetary inheritances explain only about a third. The rest is explained by “all the other things parents give their children – education, networks, values and other opportunities”. And remember, IQ is mainly genetic. Luck is another factor.

Did you notice how little of the wealth transfers gifts accounted for? The authors say they couldn’t find strong evidence of larger transfers from the Bank of Mum and Dad “despite popular belief”.

Sorry, not convinced. By their own admission, the data they’ve been using are “somewhat limited”. My guess is that more people receive inheritances than their figures show. The size of inherited amounts seems very low. As for parents having to cough up to help their kids buy a home, it’s become a big deal relatively recently.

So if the statisticians can’t find much evidence of it, that’s probably because they haven’t been asking the right questions.

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Morrison needs the guts to save business (and the unions) from folly

Talk about don’t mention the war. The great and good – who miss jetting off overseas several times a year – keep telling us the economy won’t recover until we’ve reopened to the world. Seems they just can’t bring themselves to focus on the obvious: it’s wages, stupid.

It’s self-evident that, ultimately, it would be bad for our economy for us to stay a hermit kingdom. But these worthies are wrong if they imagine that re-opening our borders would immediately strengthen the recovery.

It’s true that our airlines won’t recover until the borders open, and our universities will remain crippled. But because Aussies normally spend far more on touring overseas than foreigners spend touring here, our tourism industry (including every country town) has been doing nicely thank you from the temporary ban on Aussies doing their touring abroad.

Our econocrats have been busy extending the fiscal stimulus to get unemployment down and skill shortages up, in the hope this will bid up wages, and so give the nation’s households more to spend through our businesses.

Trouble is, business has grown used to covering shortages of skilled labour by importing workers on temporary visas, thus avoiding pushing up wage rates (and training costs). Get it? The real reason they want the borders re-opened ASAP is so they can go on playing this game.

But it’s just one of many stratagems our businesses have been using to keep the lid on wages: increased use of part-time and casual employment, labour hire companies, discouragement of collective bargaining and greater use individual contracts, evading labour laws by pretending workers are independent contractors, and even wage theft.

Little wonder “most Australians have not had a meaningful pay rise for almost a decade” and “living standards have stagnated”, as Brendan Coates, of the Grattan Institute, reminds us.

And little wonder the economy’s growth was so weak before the arrival of the pandemic, and threatens to go back to being weak once last year’s massive fiscal stimulus has dissipated.

Market economies are circular – the money goes round and round. And nowhere is this clearer than in the two-sided nature of wages. Wages are both the chief cost faced by most businesses, and the chief source of income for their customers.

See the problem? The more success the nation’s businesses have in keeping the lid on wage costs, the less money the nation’s households have to spend on all the things business wants to sell them.

When the two sides of the wage coin get out of whack, so to speak, business starts strangling the golden goose. Efforts to achieve a healthy rate of economic growth – and rising living standards – won’t be sustained.

This is a form of market failure called a collective action problem. What seems to makes sense for the individual business is contrary to the interests of business as a whole. But no business wants to be the first to stop skimping on wage costs for fear of losing out to its competitors.

The solution to collective action problems is for some authority to come in over the top and impose a solution on all players, thus leaving none at a competitive disadvantage and all of them better off in the end because their customers have more money to spend.

In other words, the only way for us to escape an anaemic, wage-less recovery is for Scott Morrison to intervene in the economy to get wages up.

Since the Fair Work Commission’s annual minimum wage case affects the wages of one worker in four, he should have intervened in the case – as has always been the feds’ right – to encourage the commission to give a generous increase after last year’s miscued pandemic minginess.

He should be trying to set a higher wage “norm” for private sector employers by giving his own federal employees a decent, 3 per cent annual pay rise, and pressuring the premiers – Labor and Liberal – to do likewise.

He should be legislating to protect Australian workers – and his own tax collections - from the ravages of the “gig economy”, which tries to hide its evasion of our labour laws behind its genuine and welcome technological innovation.

And the very least he should be doing is to beef up the Fair Work Ombudsman’s staffing and ability to stamp out wage theft which – purely by mistake, you understand – has become endemic. This outbreak of utterly unAustralian illegal behaviour tells us a lot about the ultimately self-destructive, anti-wage mania that is gripping the nation’s business people.

The obvious problem is that doing anything to increase wage rates is totally foreign to a Liberal politician’s every instinct. The Business Council would be incandescent. Nixon going to China is one thing, but a Liberal putting up wages? Never.

Sorry, but the world turns, and successful leaders must turn with it. We used to have a chronic problem with inflation; now it’s chronic spending weakness. The unions used to have too much power; now they have too little.

Even so, there’s one thing a Liberal Prime Minister could be doing to help without giving offence to Liberal sensibilities. It would actually be a blow against his union and Labor enemies that would do a lot to strengthen the economy’s prospects over the next four years, should he have the strength to put the economy ahead of his own political discomfort.

It would save Australia’s workers from the self-interest of the union elite and the mindless tribalism of Labor (not to mention the bullying of a certain former Labor prime minister), which is happy to give their unions mates what they demand because the Libs want to destroy industry super (which is true, but not a good enough reason to oppose a change that would leave workers and the wider economy better off).

The strange thing about last month’s budget is that, though it sees the econocrats’ wage-lifting strategy getting unemployment down to 4.5 per cent by about the end of 2023, it sees no growth in real wages for the next four years.

In evidence to a Senate committee last week, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy was obliged to explain this discrepancy. It’s because, starting next month, legislation requires compulsory employer contributions to their workers’ superannuation to be increased by 0.5 percentage points for five Julys in a row, until they reach 12 per cent of wages in July 2025.

Relying on strong empirical evidence, Treasury has assumed that employers will cover 80 per cent of the cost of this impost by raising wages by that much less. The nation’s workers will thus be forced to save rather than spend a significant portion of what would have been their future pay rises.

The nation’s greedy, ticket-clipping super-fund managers play on everyone’s instinctive fear that they aren’t saving nearly enough to provide for a comfortable retirement. It suits the union elite (and their gullible Labor mates) to go along with this deception, even though Grattan’s Coates (and Treasury before him, and the recent Retirement Income Review since him) has demonstrated that, after including a part-pension, most workers will have plenty.

So the Labor tribe wants to force the nation’s employees to live on less during their working lives so they can live like royalty in retirement. Why doesn’t Morrison seek to reverse this Labor-initiated legislation? Because he fears he’d lose votes in the labour movement’s ensuing fear campaign.

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Stuck with crappy aged care because Morrison won’t ask us to pay

I’m sorry to be so pessimistic but I fear that, in just its first week, the likelihood of the aged care royal commission’s report leading to much better treatment of our elderly has faded.

Within a day or two, Scott Morrison and his Treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, made it known they had “little appetite” for the commission’s plan to use an “aged care improvement levy” of 1 per cent of taxable income to cover the considerable cost of the reforms it proposed.

Morrison wants to be seen as delivering lower – not higher – taxes. I suspect the pair have realised that announcing an increase in tax on all income earners wouldn’t fit well with the costly third stage of their tax cuts, due in 2024, which will go mainly to high income-earners (like my good self).

Rather, the pair are murmuring about making the elderly contribute more from their own retirement savings towards the cost of their care by tightening the means-testing of aged care benefits. Maybe there’d be more and bigger “refundable accommodation deposits”.

Making the better-off old cover more of their own costs – including by taking account of the much-increased value of their homes – would be very fair. Too fair, you’d have thought, for the Liberal Party and its heartland.

Remember how the party’s “base” revolted against Malcolm Turnbull’s measures to restrict tax concessions to just the first $1.6 million of superannuation balances? Remember how hard well-off retirees fought against Labor’s plan to limit dividend franking credits at the last election, with the Libs egging them on?

Can you imagine how keen Morrison would be to have the tables turned in the coming election? He’d be the one seeking support for what Labor would quickly label his “retirement tax”.

Implementing the commission’s report would cost a minimum of $10 billion a year and probably a lot more. It’s impossible to imagine this government having the courage to raise anything like that much by tightening the means-testing of its own well-off supporters.

The commission’s report has been pushed aside before we’ve had time to understand what it’s proposing and why it would be so expensive. Whereas the present Aged Care Act was designed to help the government limit its spending, the report goes the opposite way, proposing a new act which enshrined every person’s statutory right to aged care of decent quality, with reasonable choice.

This would remove the government’s ability to limit the number of people receiving care, making access to free aged care “universal” – just as access to free public schooling has long been universal and, since Medicare, access to free care in public hospitals is universal.

In this context, “free” means the cost is covered by general taxation, not by user charges or means-tested charges. (Note that the freedom from direct charging would apply only to aged care proper. People’s food and accommodation costs would be means-tested. But refundable accommodation deposits would probably go.)

The report found that the root cause of the (often literally) crappy treatment of people in age care was the inadequate number, training and pathetic pay of aged care workers (almost all of them women). Properly done, almost all the increased cost of aged care would end up in the hands of these women.

In principle, it would be perfectly fair to cover the cost of better, universal aged care with a tax levy paid by all income-earners. We’d be paying for aged care the way we’ve always paid for the age pension and much else – by a “generational bargain”.

It’s fair to ask the present generation to pay for the retirement costs of the older generation because the present generation will be old themselves soon enough. When they are, their retirement costs will be paid for by the generation coming behind them. In the end, every generation pays and every generation benefits.

But that’s just in principle. In practice, the Grattan Institute has shown that successive governments – particularly the Howard government – have reneged on the intergenerational bargain by changing the tax and welfare system in ways that favour the old and penalise the young.

Tax concessions on super are now so generous that few retirees pay any income tax, no matter how well-off. As my colleague Jessica Irvine has shown, tax and welfare concessions to existing home owners have made homes such a desirable investment that a growing proportion of the young will never be able to afford to join the charmed circle.

The young bear the brunt of our willingness to live with high unemployment and underemployment and our unwillingness to regulate the gig economy. And the young pay far more for their higher education than earlier generations (and now those with the temerity to do an arts degree pay double).

In the face of this unfairness, the Grattan Institute’s Brendan Coates has sensibly proposed that the cost of fixing aged care be covered by reducing super concessions to higher income-earners, but I doubt Morrison’s game to try that one on his base – or the voters.

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Canberra's latest innovation: politics without policy

The most remarkable development since we returned to work this month is Scott Morrison’s barefaced announcement that the government has enough on its plate rolling out the virus vaccine and getting unemployment down, and so there’ll be no attempt to deal with any of our many other problems before the election late this year or early next.

There could be no franker admission that we live in an era of leaders who lack the ambition and courage to lead. Only on those problems so acute the mob is baying for the government to “Do Something!” will something be done – or grand announcements made that give the appearance it’s being done.

It’s Prime Minister as odd-job person. You don’t look for ways to secure our future, you sit there waiting for pressing matters to turn up: a light bulb that must be changed, a dripping tap that needs a new washer. Acute problems, yes; chronic problems, through to the keeper.

It’s the confirmation of what all but the rusted-on voters have long suspected: that our politicians are motivated far more by the desire to attain and retain office than by any great desire to make the world a better place for us to live and bring up our kids.

The opposing political parties continuously accuse each other of being “ideological” – of being mad free-marketeers or tax-and-spend socialists – but this serves mainly to con along their side’s true believers and conceal from the rest of us the political class’s overriding objective: to win the next election by fair means or foul.

It’s not hard to decipher Morrison’s thinking. Like the premiers, his popularity has soared following our successful containment of the pandemic, so his prospects of re-election are high – provided nothing goes wrong between now and then.

That does mean he must ensure there are no major glitches in the rollout of the vaccine – to which he will have to pay much attention – but he needs no further achievements to improve his chances of winning.

Indeed, anything else he attempts to fix offers more chance of losing the votes of the disaffected than of adding votes to his existing pile. According to informed sources (aka well-briefed gallery journalists), there’s little enthusiasm for “reform” of taxation, religious freedom, industrial relations or superannuation.

The government’s existing proposals for modest changes to industrial relations rules – about which the unions are making such fuss at present – will be put to the Senate next month but, should they fail to pass, will be dropped.

Some Liberal backbenchers’ urgings that the legislated phased increase in compulsory employer super contributions from 9.5 per cent of wages to 12 per cent be reversed (which I support) and the success of the non-profit industry super funds be sabotaged in other ways (which I don’t), have yet to be decided on, but will probably be rejected.

We’re told that Morrison’s thinking in turning away from any further policy improvement is that, after all the upheavals of 2020, the voters just want everything to calm down for a while. But that’s probably always true of many politician-weary voters. Sounds to me like a convenient rationalisation for a deeply cynical and self-serving political calculation.

You might expect this to hugely disappoint a policy wonk like me, but I confess my feelings are divided.

Morrison’s decision strike cuts both ways. He won’t be doing many things he should, but he won’t be doing many things he shouldn’t. The need for tax reform, for instance, is always with us – and urgent only in the minds of tax economists, who think of little else, and those well-to-do urgers hoping it will involve them paying less while others pay more.

There are, of course, many big problems he’ll be doing nothing to improve: the misregulation of aged care, the need for better-considered mental healthcare, the way the universities have been hung out to dry during the pandemic, the neglect and destruction of technical and further education, the many respects in which governments help oldies (including their parents) screw the younger generation.

The most urgent and important area of neglect is, of course, our response to climate change. But the federal Coalition is so deeply divided on the issue – and Morrison so hog-tied by loudmouth Liberal backbenchers and the Neanderthal Nationals – that it’s a delusion to expect genuine progress without a change of government.

And maybe not much then. As we speak, Labor is working on how many of its own policies to throw overboard. As Labor was reminded by its shock defeat in 2019, the trouble with policies is that they’re much harder for you to sell than for your opponents to misrepresent.

A big part of the reason politicians have become so lacking in policy courage is the way election campaigning has become so negative. After last time, the coming election is shaping as the battle of the scare campaigns.

Bulldust will fly on both sides. Both sides are readying themselves by having as few policies as possible. An unthinking electorate is being rewarded with policy-free elections. How edifying.

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Unions conspire with bankers to make you pay more super

When is big business most successful at "rent-seeking" – winning special favours – from government? Often, when it’s got its unions on board. That way, both the Coalition and Labor are inclined to give it the privileges it seeks.

Despite the decline in the union movement’s power and influence in recent decades – and all the nasty things the bosses continue saying about unions – it’s very much a product of the capitalist system.

Over the decades, its greatest success has come in industries with some form of pricing power that’s allowing businesses to make outsized profits. The union simply applies pressure for the workers to be given their share of the lolly.

What kept Australia’s manufacturing industry heavily protected against competition from imports for most of the 20th century, before the Hawke-Keating government pulled the plug in the 1980s, was the manufacturing unions’ strong support for the manufacturers’ success in getting the Coalition committed to protection.

In the end, however, the manufacturing unions got screwed. While being protected in the name of preserving jobs, the manufacturers began automating and shedding many jobs. Turns out protection is better at protecting profits than jobs.

In last year’s election campaign, some part of Labor’s ambivalence on the question of new coal mines in North Queensland is explained by the support the Construction, Forestry, Maritime, Mining and Energy Union, one of the few remaining powerful unions, has thrown behind the foreign mine owners.

At present, however, there’s no more significant instance of the unions being in bed with the bosses than their joint campaign to have the government increase compulsory employee superannuation contributions.

When it comes to government-granted favours to business, there aren’t many bigger than the one that compels almost all the nation’s workers to hand over 9.5 per cent of their wage, every year of their working lives, to financial institutions which will charge them a small fortune each year to "manage" their money, until the government thinks they’re old enough to be allowed to get their money back.

I’ve supported compulsory super since it began because, when it comes to saving for retirement, most of us suffer from myopia. But it does leave the government with huge obligations to ensure the money’s safely invested, ensure super tax incentives aren’t biased in favour of the highly paid (such as yours truly) and ensure the money managers don’t abuse the monopoly they’ve been granted by overcharging the punters.

And, since most of us also save for retirement in ways other than super (such as by buying a house and paying it off), governments have an obligation to ensure that workers aren’t compelled to save more than needed to live in reasonable comfort in retirement.

Compulsory super is such an easy money-maker for the for-profit financial institutions (mainly bank-owned) that it’s not surprising they’ve gone for years trying to con governments into increasing the percentage of their wages that workers are compelled to hand over. They’ve done this by exploiting people’s instinctive fear that they aren’t saving enough, using greatly exaggerated estimates of how much they’ll need to be comfortable.

What’s harder to understand is why the non-profit "industry" super funds – with union officials making up half their trustees and the employer reps not taking much interest – go along with the for-profit industry lobby groups’ self-interested empire-building.

The main reason compulsory super isn’t a particularly good deal for most union members is that when forced to pay super contributions, employers reduce their workers’ pay rises to fit. This has been understood from the outset, but last week’s report from the Grattan Institute convincingly demonstrates its truth.

The second reason is that, by design and above certain limits, super savings reduce workers’ eligibility for the age pension. Treasury and independent analysts have repeatedly discredited the industry’s claims that the present contribution rate is insufficient to provide workers with a reasonably comfortable retirement.

The present legislated plan to raise the contribution rate to 12 per cent represents the industry funds’ gift to the army of ticket-clippers making their living off the super industry. It’s origins lie in the Rudd government yielding to industry fund pressure because it believed the huge cost to the budget would be more than covered by its wonderful new mining tax.

But, as an earlier Grattan report has shown, raising the contribution rate as planned would force many workers to accept a lower-than-otherwise standard of living during their working lives so their living standard in retirement could be higher than they ever were used to when working.

This is the union movement protecting its members’ interests? Sounds to me more like union officials expanding the union institution at the expense of their members – and delivering for the banks’ "retail" super funds while they’re at it.

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Sorry, the government can't make the boss pay for your super

When the government compels employers to contribute to their employees’ superannuation, it seems obvious that it’s forcing the bosses to give their workers an extra benefit on top of their wage. Obvious, that is, to everyone but the nation’s economists.

They’re convinced it’s actually the workers themselves who end up paying because employers respond to the government’s compulsion by giving their workers pay rises that are lower than they otherwise would have been.

But can the economists prove their intuition is right? Not until this week.

The argument about who ends up paying for compulsory employee super is hotting up. The Hawke-Keating government’s original scheme required employers to make contributions equal to 9 per cent of a worker’s pay. But when former prime minister Tony Abbott took over from Labor in 2013, he inherited a law requiring the contribution to be gradually increased to 12 per cent.

The Coalition has never approved of compulsory super, which began as part of the union movement’s Accord with the Labor government. By the time Abbott got around to it, the contribution rate had crept up to its present 9.5 per cent, but he managed to persuade the Senate to delay the next (0.5 percentage point) increase until July next year, with the 12 per cent to be reached in July 2025.

Everything about this scheme’s history says Prime Minister Scott Morrison wouldn’t want the contribution rate to go any higher. It’s likely he’s hoping the looming inquiry into super will recommend this, and so help him persuade the Senate to change the law accordingly.

The superannuation industry has been campaigning for years to convince you and me that 9 per cent or so isn’t sufficient to pay for a comfortable retirement, and to get the contribution rate greatly increased. In this, the non-profit “industry” super funds (with much union involvement) are at one with the largely bank-owned, for-profit part of the super industry.

Apart from some important reports by the Productivity Commission, the most authoritative independent analysis of super comes from Brendan Coates of the Grattan Institute. Grattan has argued that raising the compulsory contribution rate would be contrary to employees’ interests, forcing them to live on less during their working lives so their incomes in retirement could be higher than they were used to and more than they needed.

To strengthen the case for continuing to raise the contribution rate, the industry funds have commissioned a couple of studies purporting to show that the conventional wisdom is wrong and contributions do indeed come at the employers’ expense.

So this week Grattan issued a paper providing empirical evidence supporting the economists’ conventional wisdom that, in the end, workers have to pay for their own super.

If the notion that employees pay for employers’ contributions strikes you as strange and hard to believe, it shouldn’t. Consider the goods and services tax. Have you ever sent the taxman a cheque for the GST you pay? No, never. The cheques are written by the businesses you buy from. So, does that mean they pay GST but you don’t? Of course not. Why not? Because the businesses pass the tax on to you in the retail prices they charge.

Economists have long understood that the “legal incidence” of a tax (who’s required to write the cheque) and the “economic incidence” or ultimate burden (who ends up paying the tax) are usually different.

It’s convenient for the government to collect taxes from a smaller number of businesses rather than from a huge number of consumers or employees. Economists know that businesses may pass the burden of the taxes they pay “forward” to their customers or “backward” to their employees. Only if neither of those is possible is the ultimate burden of the tax passed from the business to its owners.

Naturally, the business would like to pass the burden anywhere but to its owners. But whether it’s passed forward or backward (or some combination of the three) will be determined by the market circumstances the business finds itself in.

That is, the question can’t be answered from economic theory, but must be answered with empirical evidence (experience in the real world). Theory (using the simple demand and supply diagram familiar to all economics students – see page 12 of the Grattan report) can, however, clarify the exact question.

Theory suggests that the ultimate destination of the burden depends on how workers and employers respond when super is increased. There are two “effects”. First, when workers value an extra dollar of super, even if they value it less than an extra dollar of wages, then some (but not all) of the cost of super will come out of their wages.

Second, if workers’ willingness to work doesn’t vary much when wages change – that is, if labour supply is relatively “inelastic” – then they’d be expected to bear a larger share of the cost. Similarly, if employers’ willingness to hire people doesn’t vary much when wages change – labour demand is inelastic – then more of the cost will fall on the bosses.

Most overseas studies have confirmed the economists' conventional wisdom. But what about us?

Coates and his team examined the details of 80,000 federal workplace agreements made between 1991 and 2018. They found that, on average, about 80 per cent of the cost of increases in compulsory super was passed back to workers through lower wage rises within the life of an enterprise agreement, usually two to three years. (This leaves open the question of how much of the remaining 20 per cent was passed forward to customers in higher prices.)

Only about a third of workers are covered by enterprise agreements. For the many wages linked to the Fair Work Commission’s annual adjustments to award wages, it has said explicitly that when super goes up, award wages grow more slowly. As for workers covered by individual agreements, it’s a safe bet which way the employers will jump.

Whatever it suits the superannuation industry to claim, increased super contributions are no free lunch.

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Why we don't get more joy out of our super

When one of our top econocrats gives a speech about behavioural economics, you know we’re making progress. Take the ever-present problem of income in retirement. “BE” explains both why it’s a major area of government intervention in our lives and how that intervention can be made more effective.

One of the greatest limitations of conventional economics – based on the “neo-classical” model, which focuses on how prices are determined by the interaction of supply and demand – is its assumption that people are unfailingly “rational” – calculatingly self-interested – in their response to the prices they face.

Behavioural economics accepts that we’re not the financial automatons the model assumes us to be, and uses insights from the more empirical sciences of psychology and sociology to gain a much more realistic picture of the many non-monetary factors that also affect our behaviour in economic matters.

Behavioural economists draw on the long list of “heuristics” – mental shortcuts or biases in the way we think – developed by cognitive psychologists. In a recent speech, Dr David Gruen, top economics guy in the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet, outlined the cognitive biases that limit many people’s ability to make adequate provisions for the income they’ll need in retirement.

For more than a century the government has provided the age pension, of course. But in the 1990s people began to worry that it wouldn’t be sufficient to meet the aspirations of the rising generation. So the Keating government introduced compulsory employee superannuation.

In those days before the spread of BE, most economists accepted the imposition of compulsory saving as a correction to the “market failure” of “myopia” – most of us are too short-sighted to save enough towards our retirement.

The BE way of putting it is that we suffer from “present bias” – we overvalue the present relative to the future. Gruen takes the idea further, noting that “while choosing a retirement plan is likely to influence literally decades of our lives, many of us spend little time – sometimes less than an hour – choosing our plan”.

Then there’s “confirmation bias” – we tend to remember events that confirm our existing views, but forget developments that cast doubt on those views. Gruen uses this to explain why many of us spend what little time we have set aside to choose a retirement plan looking for one with an investment strategy that supports our existing investing approach.

And “cognitive overload”. This occurs when people find it too hard to process a mass of information in order to make decisions. In the context of planning for retirement, it leads many of us to stick with choices we have arrived at by default.

“Together, these cognitive biases create a big gap between our intentions and our actions: although people intend to save for their retirement, they often don’t translate that into action. For most people, how much to save, and in what form, are difficult cognitive problems – because of both our limited calculation powers and the apparent enormity of the task,” Gruen says.

When the compulsory super system was first set up, the government adopted the conventional economics view that savers were rational economic agents who knew their own business best. So all it had to do was require the super funds to reveal relevant information about their investment options, and diligent savers would do the rest, ensuring they picked the option that best suited their circumstances.

Yeah sure. At the time of a review of super in 2009, 80 per cent of super fund members were invested in the default fund chosen by their employer. Of that 80 per cent, anecdotal evidence suggested that only about 20 per cent explicitly chose the default option, with the rest making no active choice whatsoever.

“When complicated decisions are required, people often stick with the status quo and take no decision at all. In that case, the default option becomes very important,” Gruen says. (This is actually one of the key “insights” of BE.)

So the review panel recommended creating a default option – called MySuper - with features that would promote the wellbeing of those who didn’t actively choose another option. MySuper funds must be simple and cost-effective, with a diversified portfolio of investment.

Of course, there are remaining challenges in the compulsory super system, which the latest review of retirement incomes, instigated by Treasurer Josh Frydenberg, will consider. Let’s hope it takes full advantage of the behavioural insights available to it.

As Gruen says, BE allows all government policymaking to be improved by starting with a richer understanding of human behaviour and building this into the design of measures.

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