Why bribery is key to boosting our economic prosperity

By MILLIE MUROI, Economics Writer

Of all the incentives in the world, money must be among the most powerful. Since its birth thousands of years ago, dosh – chasing it, saving it, and paying it back – has driven us to ruin but also some remarkable feats. So, it shouldn’t be any different when it comes to the “p” word.

Before your eyes glaze over at the mention of productivity, you should know that had it improved more in recent years, we’d all probably have a lot less to complain about when it comes to issues such as cost of living – and the Reserve Bank wouldn’t be so worried about wage rises feeding into inflation.

What if I told you that boosting our productivity starts with bribing our state governments?

In a speech to the Queensland Economic Society of Australia in Brisbane last week, economist and former corporate watchdog boss Karen Chester identified one of the biggest hurdles to lifting our living standards: a problem called “vertical fiscal imbalance”.

Here’s the issue. Some of our most fundamental needs are taken care of by the state government: education, health, transport, and law and order to name a few. This all requires mountains of cash which the state governments have little ability to raise.

It’s the federal government that has the power to raise a lot of money – mostly through taxation, meaning there’s a mismatch: state governments might be tasked with the big asks, but it’s the federal government that has the cash to splash. As Chester puts it: “The states wear the political pain and the budget loss in doing the right thing.”

Money can’t buy happiness or solve all our problems, but without it, it’s hard to pay for – or incentivise – fixes in some of our biggest sectors, including boosting productivity.

Our productivity improves when we increase the quantity or quality of the goods and services we produce with a given set of resources, such as workers. Making people work longer hours doesn’t count towards improving productivity, but using better technology or other innovations does.

The reason we care so much about productivity is that it’s the main way capitalist economies have kept making us better off – at least materially – over the past few centuries. Innovations from the lightbulb to the assembly line to the internet have made us faster and better at doing our jobs.

Right now, we’re in a productivity slump. Despite a record-breaking increase in hours worked in 2022-23, the amount we’re producing hasn’t been climbing all that much.

Over the long-term, Australia’s productivity has grown by about 1.3 per cent every year. In 2022-23, our labour productivity – the amount of GDP we pump out for each hour we work – actually fell 3.7 per cent.

While pay rises are awesome, there’s a problem when we get them without productivity growth as we’ve had recently: it can feed into inflation. Why? Because it means we push up the cost that goes into providing goods and services without much change in how much we’re actually producing.

So, how do we push up productivity? And how do we fix the vertical fiscal imbalance problem strangling state governments’ ability to take some bold action? Chester says one way is for the federal government to take over chunks of the states’ existing debt which they’ve used for things such as building roads and other public infrastructure.

Why should the federal government scoop up this debt which they aren’t responsible for spending? Because it significantly cuts states’ annual interest bill and boosts their ability to borrow more for new projects. Why is this? Because the federal government can borrow at a lower interest rate than the states – mostly because those who lend to them see a smaller risk of the federal government defaulting, meaning it has a better credit rating.

The total amount being borrowed by the public sector can stay the same but the interest paid on it can be squashed down.

Now, this transfer of debt has to come with some strings attached. Namely, it should be conditional on the states making progress in implementing agreed reforms.

Chester says these reforms should be aimed at resuscitating flat-lined productivity through changes such as tax reform, jack-hammering entrenched disadvantage through measures such as more social housing for people with chronic and debilitating mental health, and relieving structural inflation pressures such as those arising from natural disasters and soaring insurance costs.

Instead of the federal government spending 96 per cent of its natural disaster budget on mopping up the mess, it should give states more money (the amount could also be matched by the states) to spend on mitigation efforts: reducing the risk of future harm from natural disasters such as floods, cyclones and bushfires. This would also put a brake on surging insurance costs.

It’s not the first time we’ve had the idea to give states more headroom to make meaningful reform. In the late 1990s, there were three tranches of payments from the Australian government to states and territories based on their populations – and only if they made satisfactory progress on their reform commitments.

These payments, known as national competition policy payments, cost roughly $1 billion annually (in today’s terms) over six years. But they helped push through reforms such as removing restrictions on retail trading hours, setting up the national electricity market and abolishing price controls on dairy. The Productivity Commission estimates the payments helped lift GDP by at least 2.5 per cent.

By comparison, Treasurer Jim Chalmers last month set up a $900 million fund to prod states and territories into enacting productivity-boosting reforms: a baby step forward – especially, as Chester says, because we confront a much bigger to-do list than we did a few decades ago.

The idea to transfer debt from the states to the Commonwealth government would be a lot cheaper than the old competition policy payments – and it’s a huge opportunity to make big steps forward in improving productivity and wellbeing.

Why do we need this? Because of the sad truth that the vertical fiscal imbalance we’ve talked about has sunken the states into a mentality where they don’t want to make any reforms that the Commonwealth government wants them to make unless they’re bribed into doing so.

Chalmers this week said his government was bold and reforming. But reform needs to take foot in some of our most consequential sectors including health and education. To achieve this, we need states to buy into the vision and, most importantly, act on it.

The good news? Chester says implementing the buyback program is relatively quick. We just need the guts to do it.

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Our gambling obsession is doing great harm to addicts and their families

I grew up in a strict, Salvation Army household where there was no drinking, smoking or gambling. My parents wore their uniforms everywhere they went. Women wore no makeup or jewellery. Young boys like me weren’t allowed to go to the pictures.

My parents were strict, but loving. I had no problem with any of this except the ban on movies. We kids played cards, but not with ordinary playing cards. Why not? Because people might think we were gambling. So we played Snap, and Happy Families, with cards depicting Mr Bun the baker and his family.

After I left home I gave up these old-fashioned strictures. But they left me convinced of the damage that addiction to alcohol and gambling can do to people and, especially, their families, often deprived of enough money to live on.

So when the last act of the late Peta Murphy, a Victorian federal MP, was a parliamentary inquiry calling for greater control over the modern scourge of online betting, I was happy to join the cause. It’s way past time we stopped allowing businesses and even the members of licensed clubs to benefit from the harm done to addicts and their families.

As the Grattan Institute and its chief executive Aruna Sathanapally reminded us in last week’s report, Australia has a gambling problem unmatched by other, more sensible rich countries. Our annual gambling losses exceed $1600 per adult. That’s twice what people lose in America or Britain, and almost three times what our Kiwi cousins shell out.

Why are our gambling losses so much greater? Not because of the romantic delusion that Aussies would gamble on “two flies crawling up a wall”, but because our governments have done less than others to protect us from people who just want to make a buck at our expense.

Grattan tells us that, in total, Australians lose about $24 billion a year on gambling. Half of this comes from poker machines and another quarter from betting on sport and racing. Lotteries, scratchies and casinos make up the rest.

By far the most addictive are pokies and fast-growing online betting, so these are the ones to worry about. When it comes to politicians failing to protect us from having our susceptibilities exploited, successive NSW governments take the cake.

They were the first to let licensed clubs become addicted to revenue from pokies, then let hotels have them too. But eventually, the malady spread to other states. NSW has 14 pokies per 1000 adults, ahead of Queensland on 11.

More sensible Victoria has just six machines per 1000 adults, but Western Australians manage to live normal, happy lives with just 0.7 per 1000.

Poker machines were once called “one-armed bandits”. Now they’re just bandits. Although Australia has only about 0.3 per cent of the world’s population, it has 18 per cent of the world’s pokies. NSW accounts for about half of that.

As for online betting, its ubiquitous ads make it the most noticeable. It’s a safe bet it will grow to be a bigger problem than today. But so far, it’s of little interest to women, with young adult men by far the most susceptible.

Now, the vast majority of people who gamble do so in moderation, and do themselves no harm. But a small minority of pokie players and online betters become addicted. Grattan quotes data from debit card use showing that 5 per cent of gamblers account for 77 per cent of the spending.

That’s what makes pokies and betting so exploitative. Addiction can harm people’s financial security, health and broader wellbeing. Addicts can lose their jobs, smash their marriages, commit family violence, engage in fraud, be declared bankrupt and take their own lives.

I’m unforgiving of business people and club members who want to benefit from gambling – and politicians who lack the courage to hold them back – while turning a blind eye to all the human suffering gambling causes.

Grattan wants the feds to ban all gambling advertising and inducements, while state governments reduce the number of pokies over time.

It wants the feds to establish a national, mandatory “pre-commitment system” for all online gambling. Each state should introduce a similar pre-commitment scheme for pokies.

Pre-commitment schemes were invented by behavioural economists to allow us, in our more sensible moments, to impose limits on our own behaviour when we’re acting in the heat of the moment.

Grattan wants such commitments to be compulsory for all people that start using clubs, pubs or online betting sites after the scheme starts. You choose the limits you want to set on your spending per day, per month and per year. You can lower those limits any time you wish, but can raise them only after a delay of at least a day. The scheme would also impose maximum limits of say, $100 a day, $500 a month and $5000 a year.

Most gamblers would be unaffected by this scheme, but for others it would stop them ruining their lives. The clubs and pubs and big online betting companies will tell us it would destroy the economy. Don’t believe them.

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GDP is going backwards. That doesn't mean your life is, too

By Millie Muroi, Economics Writer 

If gross domestic product – better known by its nickname GDP – were a perfect reflection of our quality of life, we would be in trouble.

It’s a rough measure of how much we produce, earn and spend, and it grew a measly 0.1 per cent in the first three months of this year. If our population hadn’t boomed at the same time, Australia would be in recession. In fact, in per-person terms, we’ve actually been going backwards for an entire year.

GDP is a go-to gauge for politicians, pundits and journalists when it comes to our standard of living. Generally, if it’s growing, that’s a good thing. It means we’re producing more, making more money and getting to consume more: all signs of a happy, healthy economy, right? Not necessarily.

GDP reflects the monetary gains from economic activity. But it’s basically blind to any destruction we might cause to the natural environment as we pursue profits and make purchases. And it tells us nothing about how those monetary gains – or income – are shared among the rich and poor.

It also fails to account for all the other things that make life worth living: safety, a sense of belonging and how healthy (not just wealthy) we are, to name a few.

While it’s important to keep an eye on traditional economic indicators, they don’t give us a well-rounded picture of many of the things that matter. Metrics such as GDP, unemployment and inflation can help the Reserve Bank and government make informed choices when steering the economy.

But relying on these indicators alone is like driving down a highway with broken mirrors and shattered headlights. You might be able to see some things, but you’ll miss (and hit) a lot – with some pretty big consequences.

It’s part of the reason the Labor government has been copping heat this week after it decided not to add questions on topics such as sexuality in the 2026 census. Deputy Prime Minister Richard Marles said it was to avoid “divisive” community debate, but many members of the LGBTQ community understandably felt they were being overlooked.

Without solid data, it’s difficult to make policy decisions, particularly for groups that are vulnerable and facing particular challenges. This was a chance to fill one of those gaps.

But the Coalition has no clean record either when it comes to data collection. Shadow Treasurer Angus Taylor has said the government needs to zone in on lower inflation and lower interest rates. Fine. Except that he wants to scrap the government’s “Measuring What Matters” framework to do so.

But the Measuring What Matters framework … matters. It tracks our progress towards a more healthy, secure, sustainable, cohesive and prosperous Australia. That may sound fluffy and abstract. But those five adjectives frame 50 key indicators that make up the wellbeing dashboard, covering everything from air quality to how secure we feel and how healthy we are. It’s a toolkit we can use to fix at least some of the broken mirrors and headlights on our car and develop a more holistic view of our economy.

While it’s important to keep an eye on traditional economic indicators, they don’t give us a well-rounded picture of many of the things that matter.

It’s all about getting the economy to work for people and the planet rather than the other way around.

Dr Cressida Gaukroger, wellbeing government initiative lead at the Centre for Policy Development, says the data doesn’t often swing massively (perhaps one reason why the wellbeing report was largely glossed over by the media last week).

But it’s important because it gets us thinking about the long term, specifically “the changes we should be making now and the investments that we should be making now,” Gaukroger says. This way, we can save ourselves from longer-term problems that might otherwise be ignored in the frenzy around the latest GDP number, for example.

“Without that kind of long-term vision of what we should be aiming for, it makes it very difficult when we’re stuck with short-term election cycles and politicisation of government spending,” Gaukroger says.

So, what did the latest update on this data tell us? Let’s look at the bad news first.

Female health-adjusted life expectancy has dropped. Normally, Gaukroger says, we don’t see much movement in the average number of years a person can expect to live in “full health”. But chronic health conditions are crippling more people. About half of Australians lived with a chronic health condition in 2022 – up from 47 per cent in 2018 and 42 per cent in 2002, with women more likely to be grappling with one.

When it came to the environment, biological diversity worsened. From 1985 to 2020, the abundance of threatened and near-threatened species plummeted by roughly 60 per cent. Biodiversity is important because it ensures balanced and functioning ecosystems.

Some measures of cohesiveness have also deteriorated. In 2023, our sense of belonging fell to a value of 78 – the lowest it has been since 2007, when the measure was benchmarked at a score of 100.

But it’s not all doom and gloom. Other measures have improved, highlighting the areas we are thriving in.

We’re feeling safer walking through our neighbourhoods at night, and more than three-quarters of people in 2023 agreed with the statement that “accepting immigrants from many different countries makes Australia stronger” – up from 63 per cent in 2018.

Gaukroger says another positive development is the decline in “material footprint” per person, meaning fewer raw materials such as fossil fuels and minerals are being extracted to satisfy our demand. While the amount of raw materials being used to fulfil our wants and needs was 37.6 tonnes a person in 2010, the amount fell to 31 tonnes in 2023.

That means we’re working towards a circular economy, which reduces waste by, for example, sharing, reusing, repairing, and recycling things and designing materials that are less resource-intensive to make in the first place. This is a win for the environment.

The Measuring What Matters dashboard is not perfect. As Treasurer Jim Chalmers admitted last week, some of the data is too old, and there are still holes that need to be patched up. But it’s still well worth the investment.

Focusing too heavily on one thing comes at a cost. If we want a well-rounded gauge of our wellbeing and effective policy to drive us to our desired destination, we need to look beyond GDP.

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The economy is just the means to an end. So, is it working?

We spend a lot of time hearing, reading and arguing about The Economy, and we’ll be doing a lot more of all that after we’ve seen Tuesday night’s federal budget.

But while we’re waiting, let’s take a moment to make sure we know what we’re talking about. What’s the economy for? How does it work? What does it do? Who owns it? Who runs it?

Why am I suddenly so deep and meaningful? Because Dr Shane Oliver, AMP’s chief economist, has written a note saying the economy doesn’t seem to be giving us what we want.

As individuals, it’s easy to think of the economy as something that’s outside ourselves, something that does things to us, over which we have little control.

As individuals, that’s true. But if you take us altogether, it’s not true. Why not? Because if you took all the people out of the economy, there wouldn’t be an economy. What’s more, you wouldn’t need one.

You’d be left with a lot of homes and other buildings, roads, cars and machines that had been abandoned, were just sitting there and so were worthless.

So, in that sense, the economy belongs to all of us because it is us. It’s most of us getting up each morning, going to work and earning a living, and all of us spending what’s been earnt.

Most of us have paid work, some of us do unpaid work, while some of us are still getting an education and others are too old or sick to work. But all of us consume.

So don’t think of the economy as high finance beyond your understanding. It’s actually as basic as you can get. This is why it’s important to remember the economy is just a means to an end.

At its most elemental, the end we’re seeking is for the economy to provide us with food, clothing and shelter, plus a few luxuries. But all of us want to do more than barely subsist. We want our lives to bring us enjoyment.

Economists say we want all our earning and spending to bring us “utility”. A better word would be satisfaction. But it’s no stretch to say what we want from our lives is happiness. And it’s on happiness that Oliver finds we aren’t doing as well as we should be.

All this is why the best way to think about the economy is that it belongs to all of us. Legally, however, most of the capital – whether physical or financial – is owned by companies, big and small. So most of us are employed by companies.

Where does government fit in? Apart from employing a lot of workers, it owns most of the roads and other public infrastructure. It makes the laws that limit what businesses (and the rest of us) are permitted to do and the way we do it.

Governments discourage some business activities and – as we’ve seen with the Albanese government’s recent announcements – seek to encourage others.

But the central bank also uses its control over short-term interest rates to “manage” the strength of the private sector’s total demand for goods and services, encouraging it when unemployment is high, and – as now – discouraging it when inflation is high.

As well, the federal government uses its budget – government spending on one side, taxes on the other – to discourage or encourage private demand. Hence, all the fuss next week.

But how are we, and other rich countries, going in our efforts to use our economic activity – earning and spending – to keep us happy and getting happier? Not well, according to Oliver’s research.

For Australia, he finds that, though our real annual gross domestic product per person has increased fairly steadily over the past 20 years, the average score we give ourselves on our satisfaction with our lives (as surveyed by the World Happiness Report) has actually been falling over the same period.

It’s a similar story for the United States, where its real GDP per person has risen steadily since 1946, while the proportion of Americans describing themselves as “very happy” has fallen slowly over most of that period.

In particular, he finds that younger people in the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand are the least happy age group. This is a major change from 20 years ago.

Why is this happening? We can all have our own theories, but I think the big mistake many of us – and certainly, most economists – make is to focus on improving our material standard of living: using our increasing income to buy bigger and better things. Homes, cars, smartphones, whatever.

Trouble is, our materialism puts us on a “hedonic treadmill”. We think buying a bit more stuff will make us happier and, at first, it does. But pretty soon the thrill wears off – we get used to our higher standard of living – and tell ourselves it’s actually the next new thing that will make us happy.

Many people use their pursuit of promotions and higher income to make them happier by raising their social status. But this, too, is a step up you can get used to. And, in any case, it’s a zero-sum game. If passing you on the status ladder makes me happier, why won’t being passed by me make you less happy?

Actually, as I explained in a book I wrote some years back, there’s a lot of evidence that what’s better at giving us lasting satisfaction is the quality of our relationships with partners, family and friends. Beats just buying more stuff or getting a promotion.

And while it’s true that the economy, and our small role in it, can be seen as just a means to an end, it turns out that “extrinsic” benefits – such as wanting to earn money because of the nice things it buys – aren’t as satisfying as “intrinsic” benefits: such as finding a job you enjoy doing, not just do for the money it brings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wellbeing? Measure what matters, then start fixing it

In this rushing world, it’s easy for the new, the exciting, the entertaining or the worrying to crowd out the merely important. But that’s one reason mastheads have columnists. To say, hey, don’t overlook this, it’s important.

If, like all sensible people, you think there’s more to life than gross domestic product – more than “the economy”, narrowly defined – you need to take more notice of Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ long-promised Measuring What Matters wellbeing framework, released on Friday.

Taken as just another news story, it was a remarkably unremarkable document. It gathered 50 statistical indicators of Australians’ wellbeing, only a few of which were the standard economic indicators.

Of these, 20 show an improvement since the early 2000s, 12 have deteriorated, while the rest have shown little change or mixed outcomes. Our headline shouted the astonishing news: “We’re living longer, but cuddly animals are on the decline.”

Meanwhile, the government’s unceasing critics had much sneering fun pointing out how outdated some figures were. Did you see they say home owners are finding it easier to repay their mortgages?

Hopeless. It’s obviously just Labor’s “pitch to progressives living in Green and teal colonies”.

Actually, it’s a genuine effort to acknowledge and pay more attention to all the aspects of our lives that matter in addition to how many of us have jobs, how much we earn and what we’re spending it on.

The people who know a lot and care a lot about our wellbeing, in all its dimensions – such as Warwick Smith, director of the Centre for Policy Development’s Wellbeing Initiative – were much less critical. They said it was a good start, and could be improved and built upon, with the ultimate objective of having our greater consciousness of these other priority areas doing more to influence what the government was spending its time trying to improve.

Few economists would disagree with the frequent claim that GDP isn’t a good measure of wellbeing or progress. Indeed, the first person to say it was the bloke who invented GDP in the 1930s, Simon Kuznets.

It’s just that, economists being economists, they’ve continued to focus on GDP – economic growth – and left the better measures of wellbeing to others. Politicians have continued to focus on economic growth because that’s what the rich and powerful care most about. They’re hoping it will make them richer and more powerful.

It’s precisely because our leaders have been so focused on GDP as a measure of economic growth that our economic statistics are comprehensive and up to date, but our measurements of other things aren’t.

So, getting fair dinkum about “measuring what matters” involves giving the Australian Bureau of Statistics more money to measure the other things that matter more fully and more frequently.

Having been a bean counter in both my careers, I know the boring, pettifogging importance of measurement. As they say, what gets measured gets managed. You want to get your map sorted before you take off into the jungle.

But what are the other, non-standard things that matter most to our wellbeing? This is what we got on Friday: the government’s decision about the key components of wellbeing. This is the wellbeing “framework”.

It nominates five dimensions of wellbeing. First, health. “A society in which people feel well and are in good physical and mental health, can access services when they need, and have the information they require to take action to improve their health,” the framework says.

Second, security. “A society where people live peacefully, feel safe, have financial security and access to housing.”

Third, sustainability. “A society that sustainably uses natural and financial resources, protects and repairs the environment and builds resilience to combat challenges.”

Fourth, cohesion. “A society that supports connections with family, friends and the community, values diversity, promotes belonging and culture.”

And finally, prosperity. “A society that has a dynamic, strong economy, invests in people’s skills and education, and provides broad opportunities for employment and well-paid, secure jobs.”

Each of these five “themes” (dimensions is a better word) are “underpinned” by the need for “inclusion, equity and fairness” (but if there’s a difference between equity and fairness, I don’t know it).

I think that covers the bases. Sounds a nice place to live. It puts the economy into a broader, more balanced context. The economy is vitally important – it’s our bread and butter, after all – but so are many other things.

If we nail it on prosperity but go backward on the others, why would that be good? The rich could survey the ruins around them and say, I won!

And there’s a lot of interdependence. Good luck with your economy once you’ve irreparably damaged the natural environment on which it depends.

On many of these dimensions, what we need to know is not so much how well we’re doing on average, but who’s missing out and needs help. Not who’s included, but who’s excluded. (Something a Voice would make it harder to forget.)

But measurement is just a means to an end. Until what we know affects what our governments do, it’s just box-ticking.

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Yes, money does buy happiness* *terms and conditions apply

 Years ago, when our kids were young, we used to stay at a guesthouse in the mountains in the same week of January every year, as did various other families. When we met up with people we knew quite well, but hadn’t seen for 12 months, the greeting was always the same: D’ya have a good year?

So, has 2022 been a good year for you? Something similar is asked by the Australian Unity Wellbeing Index. Each year since 2001, researchers from Deakin University ask 2000 people how they’re doing. Are they satisfied with their standard of living, their relationships, purpose in life, community connectedness, safety, health and future security?

The index combines the answers to those questions into a single rating of our “subjective wellbeing”, somewhere between zero and 100. It’s too soon to have results for this year, of course, but the researchers do have them for the first two years of the pandemic – “the worst economic crisis in a generation, and the worst health crisis in a century”.

Guess what? The index actually rose from a low of 74.4 in 2019 to a high of 76.4 in 2020, before falling back a bit to 75.7 in 2021.

But don’t take those tiny changes literally. Allow for sampling error and the best conclusion is: no change. Indeed, in the survey’s 20 years, there’s been only minor variance around an average of about 75.4.

So I can tell you now that our wellbeing in 2022 will have been much the same as it always is, just as almost everyone at the guesthouse gave the same answer every year: “Not bad, not bad”.

The index’s stability from year to year – which is true of similar indexes in other rich countries – confirms a point its founder, Professor Bob Cummins, has been trying to convince me of since I first took an interest in the study of happiness.

Measures of satisfaction with life reflect both biological factors and situational factors. At the biological level, it seems humans have evolved to maintain a relatively optimistic and happy mood. This is controlled by “homeostatic” mechanisms similar to the one that keeps our body temperature stable – unless some situation (such as getting COVID) causes it to go off range.

The researchers say the situational factors most likely to adversely affect a person’s wellbeing equilibrium are insufficient levels of three key resources: money, connection with others, and sense of purpose.

A nationwide average bundles together those people whose wellbeing is reduced by such deficits with a greater number of people who are doing well.

So nothing in this finding denies that many people did it tough during the pandemic, whether monetarily or in their physical or mental health. It’s just that more of us stayed happy enough.

Remember, too, that the media almost always tells us about people with problems, not those doing OK. Similarly, medicos rightly focus on the unwell, not the well. But if you’re not careful, you can get an exaggerated impression of the world’s problems.

And when you look further than the average, you do see the pandemic making its presence felt. The index always shows people living alone, those in share houses and single parents having the least satisfaction with their lot.

But get this: those living alone and single parents enjoyed a big increase in perceived wellbeing. Why? Keep reading.

When the survey divides people according to their work status – unemployed, home duties, study, employed or retired – it always finds the unemployed far less satisfied than everyone else.

In the first year of the pandemic, however, the satisfaction of the unemployed leapt by 9 percentage points. Why? Maybe because the composition of the unemployed had changed a lot. Or maybe because, with many more people becoming unemployed, the stigma of being without a job was reduced.

But a much more obvious explanation is that, early in the pandemic, the rate of the JobSeeker unemployment benefit was temporarily doubled. Suddenly, it went from being below the poverty line to well above it. And wellbeing went up.

Trouble is, when the payment was cut back heavily in the second year, the satisfaction of the unemployed fell below what it was in the first place.

This supports a finding of “behavioural” economics: people suffer from “loss aversion” – we feel losses more deeply than we enjoy gains of the same size.

And it’s borne out by the survey’s finding that the satisfaction of all those people whose household income had fallen was more than 3 percentage points lower than that of those whose income was unchanged.

But. The satisfaction of those people whose income had risen was no higher than that of those whose income didn’t change.

The survey shows that people on the lowest incomes were much less satisfied than those on the next rung up. But it also confirms economists’ belief in “diminishing marginal returns”. The higher incomes rise, the smaller the increase in people’s satisfaction with their lives.

So, unless you’re really poor, don’t kid yourself that more money will make you a lot happier.

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One small step for the wellbeing budget, giant leap yet to come

Hey, wasn’t this budget supposed to be Australia’s first “wellbeing” budget? Whatever happened to that? Well, it happened – sort of – but it turned out to be ... underwhelming. Didn’t arouse much interest from the media.

It met the expectations of neither the sceptics nor the true believers. Treasurer Jim Chalmers began talking it up long before he got the job. The treasurer at the time, Josh Frydenberg, thought it was a great joke.

He pictured Chalmers “fresh from his ashram deep in the Himalayas, barefoot, robes flowing, incense burning, beads in one hand, wellbeing budget in the other”.

No robes on budget night. But nor did we see Chalmers make a ringing denunciation of the great god GDP.

No quoting of Bobby Kennedy’s famous words that such measures count “air pollution and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage ... special locks for our doors and the jails for the people who break them [and] the destruction of the redwood and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic sprawl”.

In short, Kennedy said, “It measures everything except that which makes life worthwhile.”

No, none of that. Nor any condemnation of economic growth or attack on the materialism of our age.

What we got was what Chalmers promised on the day he became treasurer: “It is really important that we measure what matters in our economy in addition to all of the traditional measures. Not instead of, but in addition to. I do want to have better ways to measure progress, and to measure the intergenerational consequences of our policies.”

What we got on budget night was a start to just that. Not a wellbeing budget, but a normal budget with a chapter headed Measuring What Matters.

It kicked off with some stirring rhetoric about how traditional macroeconomic indicators don’t provide a “complete or holistic view of the community’s wellbeing. A broader range of social and environmental factors need to be considered to broaden the conversation about quality of life.”

Then followed a lot of earnest discussion of “frameworks” and other high-level stuff that’s deeply meaningful to bureaucrats, but not the rest of us. It’s not a long chapter, but I had trouble keeping awake – though I may just have been tired at the time.

But don’t get me wrong. Though none of this stuff gets the blood racing, Chalmers is on the right track. It’s just that he’s got a lot further to go before we see anything likely to make much difference.

Let’s start with GDP – gross domestic product. Everything Kennedy said about it is true. Those who say it’s a bad measure of progress or prosperity or wellbeing are right.

But, as every economist will tell you, it was never intended to be. It’s a measure of the value of all the goods and services produced and consumed in Australia over a period, which means it’s also a measure of the total income Australians earn from producing those goods and services.

It counts the cost of the ambulances and tow trucks that attend road accidents, not because accidents are a good thing, but because all the workers involved earn their income by turning up and helping.

If you’d like everyone who wants a job to be able to get one – meaning unemployment is kept low – the managers of the economy need to know what’s happening to GDP to help them achieve that goal.

GDP doesn’t count “the health of our children or the joy of their play” because, apart from the doctors and nurses, the income we earn from that is “psychic”, not something you can bank or spend.

What economists are more reluctant to admit is that their obsession with the ups and downs of GDP – with the purely material aspect of our lives; with getting and spending – has led them to revere GDP as though it measured our wellbeing.

The rest of us have caught the bug from them. This suits the rich and powerful, whose main objective is to get richer and more powerful. They are focused on the purely material, and it makes it easier for them if the rest of us are too.

It doesn’t suit them to have us asking awkward questions about what economic activity is doing to the natural environment – or the climate – why it’s better for so many jobs to be insecure and badly paid, and whether the pace of economic life is extracting an (unmeasured) price from us in stress, anxiety and depression.

So, Chalmers is right. There’s much more to life – to our wellbeing - than just working and spending. If that’s all governments are doing for us, they’re not doing nearly enough.

We put much effort into measuring and thinking about GDP, but need to put a lot more effort into measuring all the other things that affect our lives and how much joy we’re getting.

Business people say that what gets measured gets managed. True – provided politicians take account of those numbers in the decisions they make. Chalmers’ wellbeing budget is still a long way off.

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Prep for the new year: what I've learnt about happiness

Let me wish you a happy new year. And not just a happy New Year’s Eve, a whole year of happiness. But the thing about happiness is to be sure you know what you’re wishing for. It’s something that’s surprisingly easy to get wrong.

Normal economic journalists don’t waste time thinking about such a touchy-feely topic, but I went astray. I spent a lot of time reading and thinking about it. Even wrote a book about it.

I blame Bob Hawke, who once hit the headlines for saying that economics was about happiness. Though many economists today may deny it, he was right. He meant that economics was about helping people maximise their “utility” – the satisfaction they derive from their consumption.

“Happiness” is a word used by ordinary people, so journalists use it freely. Although some economists study it, most would never use such a frivolous word. “Welfare” is the closest they come. They’ve stopped talking about “utility” because they can’t measure it.

It’s psychologists who take most interest in happiness, but even they prefer to call it “subjective wellbeing”. Sounds more scientific.

A recent article from the British Psychological Society says that “people who are happy – who enjoy ‘hedonistic wellbeing’ - experience plenty of positive emotions and are generally pretty satisfied with life”.

But that’s just a psychologist’s way of saying that happy people have been shown to be ... happy. It doesn’t tell you how to become happy – nor whether happiness is what we should be shooting for.

The article does go on to quote the finding of a review of many studies that, while some strategies recommended for boosting happiness – such as taking time in the day to reflect on what you are grateful for – are far from bad in themselves, if you expect them to make you feel noticeably happier, you’re likely to be disappointed.

The social commentator Hugh Mackay – a man from whom I’ve learnt much – is very critical of the modern preoccupation with happiness. It’s that word “hedonistic” that offends him. It implies that it’s OK to make the pursuit of pleasure our primary goal. Seek out positive emotions and avoid negative emotions as much as possible.

As usual, he’s right. A life of pleasure seeking and avoiding all pain is unlikely to be satisfying. Pain and sadness are part of the human condition, and without our measure of them we aren’t fully human. It’s inhuman not to feel sad over the death of someone we love or the breakup of a relationship.

We’ve evolved to feel pain as well as pleasure, negative as well as positive emotions, for good reason. Pain, for instance, can be a signal to keep our fingers away from hot stoves, or to go to the doctor’s.

The sadness we feel over our own misfortunes should leave us with empathy towards the misfortunes of others, that we should renew our efforts to live up to the Golden Rule.

The British article offers a better kind of happiness: what Socrates called “eudaimonia” – the feeling that your life has meaning, and that you are reaching your potential.

It quotes a study finding that people who felt more strongly that the things they did in their lives were more worthwhile – in other words, that their life had meaning – were better off in all kinds of ways: socially, physically and emotionally.

So, how do we add meaning to our lives? One way could be through our jobs – paid or unpaid. The goal of helping to make the world a better place is easier seen in some jobs than others. But I remember reading of a hospital cleaner who saw her job as vital to speeding the recovery of the patient and the convenience of their visiting families.

The more fundamental way to add meaning is via our relationships with family, friends and workmates. We are, first and foremost, social animals.

Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert says “social relationships are a powerful predictor of happiness – much more so than money. Happy people have extensive social networks and good relationships with people in those networks”.

The other thing I’ve learnt is not to be misled by the US constitution and think you can pursue happiness. The founding fathers meant people should be free to run their lives as they see fit. True. But it’s a mistake to have being happy as your primary goal – and even worse to think you can make yourself happy by treating yourself to all the things you enjoy doing (chocolate, for instance).

People who keep asking themselves “am I happy?” or “what can I do to make myself happy?” aren’t happy – and probably never will be. Happy people rarely think about being happy.

Happiness pursuers have got it the wrong way round. Happiness is a side effect of being too busy leading a fulfilling life to think about it.

The way to be happy is to forget your own happiness and concentrate on making other people happy.

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Wealth and happiness don't give meaning to our lives

Easter Monday’s a good a time to reflect on what we’re doing with our lives and why we’re doing it. I’ve been banging on about all things economic for more than 40 years, but if I’ve left you with the impression economics and economic growth is the be-all and end-all, let me apologise for misleading you.

The more I’ve learnt about economics, the more aware I’ve become of its limitations. Economics is the study of production and consumption, getting and spending. But as someone connected with Easter – not the Easter Bunny – once said, there’s more to life than bread alone.

Unfortunately, the conventional way of thinking about the economy has pretty much taken for granted the natural environment in which our economic activity occurs, and the use of natural resources and ecosystem services on which that activity depends.

We’re learning the hard way that this insouciance can’t continue. We’re damaging our environment in ways that can’t continue. I keep writing about the need for economic growth because, as the economy is presently organised, it’s pretty much the only way to provide sufficient jobs for our growing population.

But that just means we need to redefine economic growth to mean getting better, not bigger (and probably should do more to limit world population growth).

Conventional economics focuses on the material aspects of life: producing and consuming goods and services; buying and selling property. There’s no denying the inescapable importance of the material in our lives – “bread” – but conventional economics encourages our obsession with material accumulation at the expense of other important dimensions of our lives.

Some aspects of economic activity can damage our physical health – smoking, drinking, burning dirty fossil fuels, even eating fast foods – but we need to become more aware of the way the fast pace and competitive pressures of modern life also threaten our mental health. Too many people – particularly the young – suffer chronic stress, anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts.

Too much emphasis on material success can also come at the expense of the social aspect of our lives – our relationships with family, friends and neighbours – which, when we’re thinking straight, we realise give us far more satisfaction than any new car or pay rise. Economists often advocate policies that will increase the efficiency of our use of resources without giving a moment’s thought to their effect on family life.

Nor should we allow our pursuit of material affluence to come at the expense of the moral and spiritual aspects of lives. I’ve just read social commentator Hugh Mackay’s book, Beyond Belief, which has done so much to clarify my thinking about Christianity, religion and spirituality that I’m sorry I didn’t get to it earlier.

Yet another thing that mars conventional economic thinking is its emphasis on the individual as opposed to the community, it’s effective sanctification of self-interest as the economy’s only relevant driving force, and its obsession with competition and neglect of the benefits of co-operation.

Mackay says that, if you ignore the doctrines and dogmas of the church – all the things you’re required to believe in – and focus on the teachings of Jesus, the first thing to strike you is that none of it was about the pursuit of personal happiness.

“The satisfactions offered or implied are all, at best, by-products of the good life,” he says. “The emphasis is on serving others and responding to their needs in the spirit of loving-kindness, the strong implication being that the pursuit of self-serving goals, like wealth or status, will be counterproductive.”

Jesus’ teachings “were all about how best to live: the consistent emphasis was on loving action, not belief. According to Jesus, the life of virtue – the life of goodness – is powered by faith in something greater than ourselves (love, actually), not by dogma.”

Mackay says we should “avoid the deadly trap of regarding faith as a pathway to personal happiness. The idea that you are entitled to happiness, or that the pursuit of personal happiness is a suitable goal for your life, is seriously misguided.

“If we know anything, we know that’s a fruitless, pointless quest – doomed to disappoint – because . . . our deepest satisfactions come from a sense of meaning in our lives, not from experiencing any particular emotional state like happiness or contentment.”

The self-absorbed mind’s entire focus is individualistic. It’s “the polar opposite of the moral mind. Its orientation is towards the self, not others; its currency is competition, not cooperation; it’s all about getting, not giving. Its goal is the feel-good achievement of personal gratification, however that might be achieved and regardless of any impact it might have on the wellbeing of ‘losers’.”

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They should make benefiting you the goal of economics

I was reading yet more about the troubles besetting the rich economies when it struck me: we’d do a lot better if our politicians and their advisers just managed the economy in ways that gave first priority to benefiting the ordinary people who constitute it.

The bleeding obvious, you say? Well, of late, not so you’d notice. Just what we’ve always been doing, the pollies and economists say? Again, not so you’d notice. Too simple? Not if you do it right.

Economics is the study of “the daily business of life” – going to work to earn money, then spending that money. If so, the economy is nothing more than all those who work (paid or unpaid) and consume, which is all of us.

The fact that we are the economy means it’s actually our economy. So all the other players – politicians, economists, even business people – are there to serve our interests. Rather than becoming alienated from the process, we should be holding them to account.

During the past 30 or 40 years of what it’s now fashionable to call neo-liberalism, we were acting on the theory that the best way to benefit all Australians was to reduce the role of government in the daily business of life and give freer rein to businesses.

This indirect approach didn’t work well. We gave our bankers and business people greater freedom from government regulation, but they abused our trust. The lenience of regulators has seen business become remarkably lawless. Too much of the extra income the economy has generated has gone to the very highest income-earners, leaving too little going to middle and lower income-earners.

This era of “economic rationalism” and “microeconomic reform” has ended, leaving Scott Morrison with much damage to clean up. Meanwhile, many voters are disillusioned and distrustful of both main parties, and are turning elsewhere to populists such as Pauline Hanson, who not only have no answers to the problems that bother us, but also seek our support by blaming our troubles on unpopular scapegoats – Muslims, city-slickers etc.

The economic rationalists’ solution to misbehaving businesses, caveat emptor – let the buyer beware – is good advice but, in the modern complex world, it’s impractical. There aren’t enough leisure hours in the day for us to spend most of them checking that all the businesses we deal with aren’t overcharging us or taking advantage of us in some way, and our employer isn’t underpaying us.

So why don’t governments cut to the chase and simply make treating us in such ways illegal? And when doing so is already illegal – as it usually is – why don’t they resume adequately policing those laws?

Something almost everyone craves in their lives, but politicians and economists long ago lost sight of, is a high degree of security. We want the security of owning our own homes and we want security in our employment.

And yet we’ve allowed home ownership to become unaffordable to an increasing proportion of young people. Why? Because we’ve put the interests of existing home owners ahead of would-be home owners. We could fix the unaffordability problem if we were prepared to put the interests of the young ahead of the old.

Some degree of flexibility in the job market is a good thing provided it works both ways. Under economic rationalism, the goal was more flexibility for employers without any concern about what this did to the lives of casual workers mucked about by selfish and capricious employers.

It’s good that part-time jobs are now available for those who want one – students, parents of young children, the semi-retired – but we could do more to make part-time jobs permanent rather than casual.

Many young people worry that we’re moving to a “gig economy” in which most jobs are non-jobs: short-lived, for only a few hours a week and badly paid, with few if any benefits.

I don’t believe we are moving to such a dystopia, mainly because I doubt it would suit most employers’ interests to treat most of their employees so shabbily. But, in any case, the way to avoid such a world is obvious: governments should make it illegal to employ people on such an unacceptable basis.

And governments will do that as soon as it’s the case that not to do so would cost them too many votes. That is, we have to make democracy work for the masses, not just the rich and powerful.

Of course, the security many of us would like is to live in a world where nothing changes. Sorry, not possible. Economies, and the mix of industries within them, have always changed and always will – often for reasons that, though they disrupt the lives of some people, end up making most of us better off.

New technologies are a major source of disruptive, but usually beneficial, change. Another source of disruptive change is the realisation that certain activities are bad for our health (smoking, for instance) or for the natural environment (excessive irrigation and land clearing, burning fossil fuels) and must be curtailed.

Adversely affected interest groups will always tempt governments to try to resist such change – at the ultimate expense of the rest of us. The right answer usually is for change to go ahead, but for governments to help the adversely affected adjust. Just what we haven’t been doing.

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Getting and spending - what's it meant to prove?

In the Aussie calendar, tomorrow – the day after the Australia Day holiday – is the unofficial start to the working year. So today’s the last day we have a moment to pause and wonder what all our getting and spending – my usual subject matter – is meant to prove.

From a narrow biological and evolutionary perspective, our only purpose is to survive and replicate our genes, playing our part in the survival of our species. Apart from that, what we do on the way to our inevitable death is of little consequence.

Don’t like that idea? No one does. Enjoyable though we find the mechanics of reproduction, the human animal craves more than just sex, good meals and a bit of fun while we kill time until our funeral. We want somehow to find purpose and meaning in our lives.

Contrary to the message of much advertising and other marketing, this meaning can’t be supplied satisfactorily by the efforts of our business people, politicians and economists. Beneath the glitter, their message is simple: get back to your getting and spending. Just do more of it.

Is there anything scientists – as opposed to philosophers – can tell us about the meaning of life? Steve Taylor, a senior lecturer in psychology at Leeds Beckett University, can, even though he’s not religious.

In a recent article on The Conversation website, he tells of his work over the past 10 years talking to people who’ve had what he calls “suffering-induced transformational experiences”. These include being diagnosed with terminal cancer, suffering a bereavement, becoming seriously disabled, losing everything through addiction, or having a close encounter with death during combat.

“What all these people had in common is that after undergoing intense suffering they felt they had ‘woken up’. They stopped taking life, the world and other people for granted and gained a massive sense of appreciation for everything,” he says.

They spoke of a sense of the preciousness of life, their own bodies, the other people in their lives and the beauty and wonder of nature. They felt a new sense of connection with other people, the natural world and the universe, he says.

“They became less materialistic and more altruistic. Possessions and career advancement became trivial, while love, creativity and altruism became much more important. They felt intensely alive.”

A man who experienced a transformation due to bereavement spoke explicitly about meaning, describing how his “goals changed from wanting to have as much money as possible to wishing to be the best person possible”.

He added: “before, I would say I didn’t really have any sense of a meaning of life. However, [now] I feel the meaning of life is to learn, grow and experience.”

Taylor stresses that none of these people were, or became, religious. The changes weren’t merely temporary and, in most cases, remained stable over many years.

He says we don’t have to go through intense suffering to experience these effects. “There are also certain temporary states of being when we can sense meaning. I call these ‘awakening experiences’.”

Usually they occur when our minds are fairly quiet and we feel at ease with ourselves. When we’re walking in the countryside, swimming in the ocean, or after we’ve meditated, or had sex.

“We find the meaning of life when we ‘wake up’ and experience life and the world more fully. In these terms, the sense that life is meaningless is a distorted and limited view that comes when we are slightly ‘asleep’.”

So what’s the meaning of life, according to Taylor? “Put simply, the meaning of life is life itself.”

Wow. From my own reading of what psychologists tell us about life satisfaction, let me add two more-prosaic points. First, humans are social animals and we get much of our satisfaction from our relationships with our family, in particular, and also with our friends.

When economists and politicians try to make us more prosperous materially without ever considering what strain they may be putting on our relationships, they’re not doing us any favours. They – like us, so often – are mistaking the means for the end. Cannibalising our ends to improve our means doesn’t leave us better off.

Second, the simple economic model assumes work is an unpleasant means to the wonderful end of having money to buy things. But, as they say, if you can find a job you like – or get more joy from the job you have – you’ll never have to work.

If politicians, economists and the business people we work for put more emphasis on helping us find satisfaction from our work, they’d be adding more meaning to our lives (and theirs).

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Kiwis go one up and bring happiness to the budget

Like the past, New Zealand is a foreign country. They do things differently there. While we’ve just had a budget promising what seems like the world’s biggest tax cut, the Kiwis have just had what may be the world’s first “wellbeing budget”. Bit of a contrast.

I’ve long believed that all government politicians everywhere, when they’re not simply delivering for their backers, are trying to make voters happy and thus get themselves re-elected. They just differ in how they go about it.

Like governments everywhere, our governments of both colours have seen delivering economic growth - and the jobs and higher material living standards it’s expected to bring - as the chief thing we want of them to make us happier.

To this end they’ve adopted as their chief indicator of success the rate of growth in GDP – gross domestic product – which measures the nation’s production of goods and services during a period.
They’ve largely assumed that the extra income produced by this growth is distributed fairly between us - though, in recent decades, the share going to those near the top has grown a lot faster than the shares of everyone else.

This, presumably, is Australian voters’ “revealed preference”, since we’ve just rejected the party promising to cut various tax breaks going mainly to high income-earners and use the proceeds to increase spending on hospitals, schools and childcare, in favour of the party offering tax cuts worth an immediate saving of $1080 a year to middle income-earners and delayed savings of up to $11,640 a year to those of us on $200,000 and above.

According to the Liberal winners, voters in outer suburbs and the regions turned away from Labor because it would have dashed their “aspirations” to one day be earning two or three times what they’re earning today and so be raking it in from family trusts, negatively geared investments and, above all, refunds of unused franking credits.

But if our aspirations to happiness revolve around more money in general and less tax in particular, our cousins across the dutch aspire to a radically different brand of happiness.

According to their Finance Minister Grant Robertson, in his budget speech, New Zealanders were asking “if we have declared success because we have a relatively high rate of GDP growth, why are the things that we value going backwards - like child wellbeing, a warm, dry home for all, mental health services or rivers and lakes we can swim in?

“The answer to that question was that the things New Zealanders valued were not being sufficiently valued by the government . . . So, today in this first wellbeing budget, we are measuring and focusing on what New Zealanders value – the health of our people and our environment, the strengths of our communities and the prosperity of our nation.

“Success is making New Zealand both a great place to make a living, and a great place to make a life.”

According to the nest of socialists who’ve overrun the NZ Treasury, “there is more to wellbeing than just a healthy economy”. So GDP has been moved from its central place, replaced by Treasury’s “living standards framework”, based on the four sources of capital: natural capital (land, soil, water, plants and animals, minerals and energy resources), human capital (the education, skills and health of the population), social capital (the behavioural norms and institutions that influence the way people live and work together) and human-made capital (factories, offices, equipment, houses and infrastructure).

The living standards framework covers 12 “domains”: income and consumption, and jobs and earnings (which two cover GDP), and “subjective wellbeing” (the $10 term for happiness), plus health, housing, knowledge and skills, the environment, civic engagement and governance, time use, safety and security, cultural identity and social connections.

The wellbeing budget then set out five government priorities: improving mental health, reducing child poverty, addressing inequalities faced by Maori and Pacific island people, thriving in a digital age, and transitioning to a low-emission, sustainable economy.

I’ve often thought this would be the right way for governments to go about increasing “aggregate happiness” – by focusing on reducing the main sources of un-happiness.

To make a start, the budget provides almost $1billion over five years to improve the wellbeing of children, including extra funding for low-income schools, more help for children affected by domestic and sexual violence, and indexing family benefits to wages rather than prices.

The budget’s expensive mental health package includes creation of a new frontline service and funds to help people with mild-to-moderate mental health problems rather than making them wait until their problems worsen. Helping people with addictions is also seen as a health issue.

A “sustainable land-use” package works on the environmental challenges facing agriculture, including excess nutrient flows into iconic lakes and rivers.

Despite all this, the budget sticks to the government’s budget responsibility rules, with surpluses forecast and reduction of public debt. According to Saint Jacinda of Ardern, the wellbeing budget “shows you can be both economically responsible and kind”.

So, those uppity Kiwis think they can walk and chew gum at the same time. Fortunately, we Aussies know not to try.

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In the pursuit of happiness, extroverts get a head start

When Bob Hawke famously said economists were in the happiness-raising business, he wasn’t wrong. But he didn’t endear himself to the profession, which these days prefers to think of itself as in the incentives business.

A few economists study happiness, but for the most part they leave it to psychologists – who prefer to call it by the more scientific sounding “subjective wellbeing”. How satisfied you feel with your life or, as I prefer to think of it, how fulfilled you feel.

One finding we got last year from the world of happiness research is that people with certain types of personality tend to be happier than the rest of us.

Social psychologists have put decades of work into studying personality, and are widely agreed on the “big five” personality traits: conscientiousness, agreeableness, neuroticism, openness to experience, and extroversion.

Conscientiousness refers to being industrious, orderly and dependable. It’s about the way we control, regulate and direct our impulses. Conscientious individuals avoid trouble and achieve success through planning and persistence.

Agreeableness refers to co-operation and social harmony. Agreeable people value getting on with others. They're considerate, friendly, generous, helpful and willing to compromise their interests with others’ interests.

The trait psychologists call neuroticism would be better labelled by its inverse: emotional stability. So it’s one on which you’d like a low score. Neurotics have a tendency to often experience negative feelings such as anxiety or depression – or always getting angry. They can be moody and irritable. People who score low on neuroticism are less easily upset and less emotionally reactive. They tend to be calm and emotionally stable.

Openness to experience refers to being intellectually curious, imaginative, creative, inventive and insightful. Less open people prefer familiarity over novelty and tend to be conservative and resistant to change.

Extroversion refers to being outgoing, talkative and bold. Extroverts want to engage with the outside world. They tend to be enthusiastic, action-oriented, assertive and want to draw attention to themselves (some of them wear loud ties or go everywhere in sneakers).

Although surveys often show us to be wildly overconfident about our own capabilities – a recent survey shows 65 per cent of Americans think they’re more intelligent than the average person, for instance – a study last year by Stefano Di Domenico of the Australian Catholic University and others has found we’re quite accurate in assessing our own personality.

You give yourself a score out of 10 for each of the five factors, where 5 is average, 1 is very low and 10 is very high.

I’ve written before about the benefits of being an optimist – which, fortunately, about 80 per cent of us are. Unsurprisingly, optimists are happier than pessimists.

Optimists score well on four of the big five personality traits – emotional stability, extroversion, agreeableness and conscientiousness – with only openness being of limited relevance.

But last year’s big news about the effect of personality on happiness concerned the benefits of extroversion. Psychologists have long known that extroverts rate highly in measures of wellbeing. And they’re less likely to suffer from depression, anxiety or other mental health problems.

So much so that some studies seem to be encouraging us to act in more extroverted ways in the hope of becoming happier. Fake it till you make it.

A study by Dr Luke Smillie, of the University of Melbourne, and others has found it’s not that simple.

Their randomised control trial confirmed that people told to “act extroverted” did become happier. But it turned out that those who were naturally extroverted benefited the most, whereas those who were relatively introverted didn’t seem to benefit at all.

This - and other evidence – suggests that our personality has a bigger influence on how happy we feel than many have assumed. That is, how happy we are with our lives is less susceptible to our conscious control than we thought.

Smillie (who must be terribly tired of hearing the words “nominative determinism”) and colleagues say that’s not as bad as it sounds, however. Our personality may shape our lives, but it also changes. “Personal change may not be easy,” they say, “but we now know personality is not ‘fixed’.”

Research suggests personality is most likely to change between the ages of 20 and 40, but can occur at older ages.

This fits my own experience. When I first became a journalist, I dreaded having to phone people I didn’t know. But I must have become more extroverted over the years because, when I try to tell people I’m actually quite shy, they just laugh.

In any case, I think it’s possible to be more extroverted in some aspects of your life – some “domains”, as psychologists say – and less in others. Just ask my wife.

Smillie & Co say they’re not meaning to imply you need to be extroverted to be happy. Scoring well on other character traits will get you there.

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How to get more bang from your bucks

They say people who think money doesn’t buy happiness just don’t know where to shop. Sorry to have left it so late in your preparations for Christmas and summer, but on this score I have breaking news.

It’s a funny thing that, though economists hold consumption to be the “sole end and purpose” of all economic activity, it’s not a subject that greatly interests them. They’ll help you maximise how much you’ve got to spend, but they’ll give you no help in deciding how to spend it in a way that yields the most happiness – or, as they prefer to say, “satisfaction”.

No, for advice on how to get the biggest bang from your bucks, the experts are social psychologists.

For the past 15 years, their prevailing wisdom has been that spending on experiences – from an overseas holiday to a trip to the movies – yields more happiness than buying more stuff.

The pleasure you get from buying a new CD or pair of shoes or car or even a new home falls off surprisingly quickly, whereas the enjoyment you get from what the US psychologist Tom Gilovich has dubbed “experiential consumption” tends to be longer-lasting.

Subsequent research has found three reasons why experiences provide greater happiness. First, experiential purchases enhance our social relationships more readily and effectively than do material goods.

That is, a lot of the enjoyment comes from our interaction with the people we share the experience with. (This, BTW, gets closer to what I really believe about all this: deep satisfaction comes from our human relationships, not from what we buy.)

Second, experiential purchases form a bigger part of a person’s identity. We are the sum of our life’s experiences – pleasant and otherwise – much more than the sum of our material possessions.

Third, experiential purchases are evaluated more on their own terms and evoke fewer social comparisons than material purchases.

Good point. A lot of our spending goes on keeping up with the Joneses or on buying “positional goods” – goods that demonstrate to the world how well we’re doing in the battle for social status. Trouble is, my delight in my new Volvo is punctured when the chap next door arrives home with his new Beemer.

We make sure our house is as well-appointed as the others in the street, the lawn’s always mown, the car in our driveway is late-model European, and the kids go to private schools. But the one thing the neighbours can never see is how your total debt compares with everyone else’s.

If keeping up with the neighbours has required you to rack up a crippling debt, you’re unlikely to be enjoying a care-free life. Ditto if your financial commitments keep you chained to a well-paying job you hate.

But, as the researchers say, when you’re spending money on experiences, you do it much more for your enjoyment of that experience than to impress the neighbours – unless, of course, you’re into matching their skiing trip to the Snowies with yours to Aspen.

Actually, I think there’s more to it even than those three points. Major experiences such as overseas touring holidays yield pleasure in expectation of them, pleasure while you’re doing it, and pleasure while you’re reliving them and recounting your adventures to family and friends.

And the great beauty of thinking about past holidays is that you remember the highlights, laugh about the bad bits, and forget the boring bits – such as the trouble you had trying to find a public toilet.

Sorry, I promised you breaking news on the experiential front. Research out this year, by Lee, Hall and Wood, finds it’s not as simple as experiences good, stuff bad.

Turns out, which of the two yields the higher happiness count depends on your social class, with class being measured according to income, education or self-assessment.

Dividing people into two categories – higher or lower – the researchers found that “experiential advantage” held for the top half, whereas the bottom half either rated experiences and material purchases equally or rated goods more highly than experiences.

It seems people of higher social class have an abundance of resources, meaning they can afford to focus more on their internal growth and self-development.

In contrast, people who have fewer resources are likely to be more concerned about making wise purchases of the stuff they still needed.

I think it’s probably a gradient: as your material affluence rises you pass through the point where experiences and things deliver roughly equal satisfaction, until eventually your material needs are pretty much satisfied and its experiences that do most to make you happy.

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Decades of economic success have come at high social cost

I’m thinking of starting a new social movement. Still working on the details, but I’ve already decided we’ll have lapel buttons, bumper stickers and, of course, a hashtag, all that say #letscalmdown.

I know I’m supposed to be banging on about the urgent need for economic reform but, although as a nation we’re better off materially than ever before, I doubt we’re the happiest, most contented or most fulfilled we’ve ever been.

Even if it’s true we all want to be richer (which I doubt), why do we have to be in such a tearing hurry about it?

While I was calming down on holidays a few weeks back, I read social researcher Hugh Mackay’s latest book, Australia Reimagined, and it occurred to me that we seem to be paying quite a price for our economic success.

Mackay says that two seminal facts about Australia suggest we are in urgent need of some course correction.

First, thanks to our rate of relationship breakdown, our shrinking households, our busy lives, our increasing income inequality and our ever-increasing reliance on information technology (and, he could have added, our greater division between public and private schooling), we are a more fragmented society than we have ever been.

Social fragmentation is the opposite of social cohesion. Our fragmentation has been exacerbated by rampant individualism and competitive materialism, whereas social cohesion is grounded in compassion and mutual respect and is the key to true greatness for any society.

“In countries like Australia, we are at more risk of antisocial behaviour from people who are socially isolated and mentally ill than we are from ideologically based acts of terrorism," he says.

Second, we are in the grip of what he insists is “an epidemic of anxiety”. “Two million of us suffer an anxiety disorder in any one year and the closely related epidemics of depression and obesity swell that number even more."

Up to a third of us will experience mental health problems in our lifetime, 20 per cent of young Australians will have had at least one episode of clinical depression before the age of 25 and two-thirds of us are overweight or obese.

These two facts are so closely linked, Mackay says, we should think of them as two sides of the same coin. “Heads we’re more fragmented; tails we’re more anxious.”

The link is that, because we’re herd animals by nature, we become anxious when we’re cut off from the herd and our anxiety, in turn, induces the kind of self-absorption that further inhibits social interaction, creating a vicious circle.

Many of us have retreated into self-absorption – a heightened sense of personal entitlement and an exaggerated concern with personal comfort and personal appearance – as part of our disengagement from political and social issues and desire to escape into our own comfort zone, both physical and digital. The echo chamber effect of social media is part of this escape.

Mackay admits there’s nothing new about people feeling anxious, but argues there’s a lot more of it today because we’ve been neglecting the four strategies we've long used to minimise it: the magical power of faith, the secret power of community, the restorative power of nature and the therapeutic power of creative self-expression.

Let’s look at faith and community. Research by the leading American psychologist Martin Seligman led him to conclude that faith in something larger than the self is the one absolutely essential prerequisite for a sense of meaning in life. And the larger the entity, the more meaning people derive from it.

For most of human history – and for most people living on the planet today – the God of religion has supplied that something greater. But in our ungodly era, “the vacuum created by the absence of religion must be filled by something else”, Mackay says. He’s right. Our psychological makeup demands it.

Most of the research showing the health benefits of religious faith and practice is actually identifying two influential factors: not just the faith, but also the “fellowship”. Church or mosque goers are members of a community of like-minded people who, at their best, are characterised by mutual support, kindness and respect.

The less obvious benefit of social engagement is that “belonging to a community keeps us in touch with people who might need us, and nothing relieves anxiety like a focus on someone else’s needs”. It is “the exercise of compassion – not merely the experience of belonging – that is the great antidote to anxiety”.

Don’t have enough time to do all that, you say? Don’t want to turn your life upside down? Mackay says we’re not going to turn the clock back, not going to junk the technology, not going to stop enjoying the fleeting pleasures of consumerism and not going to give up pursuit of material prosperity for a life of poverty in a monastic cell.

“But is easing back a possibility? Rethinking our priorities, slowing down, disconnecting from technology sometimes (such as when we’re eating a meal in the company of family or friends, or heading for bed), noticing what is happening to our children as a result of the toxic blend of their excessive screen time and our excessive busyness ... in other words, being a little more observant, a little more moderate, a little more restrained, a little better prepared for the future”, Mackay suggests.

Sounds good to me.

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How to get more enjoyment from the time available

I don't know about you, but it's at this time of year, when the Christmas rush is over and things slow down – even for those who are "working through" – that I get a bit more philosophical, a bit more reflective.

What exactly did I achieve last year? Is next year going to be all that different? What's the point of working so hard? How can I find a better balance between work and play?

To tell you the truth, I'm divided between all my old professional ambitions and a desire to slow down, smell the roses and have more fun.

Of course, one of the key lessons of economics is that we're often faced by conflicting but desirable objectives, and the answer is to find the best trade-off between them. The particular combination that yields most "utility" (aka happiness).

Unfortunately, that's about as far as economists' advice goes. Fortunately, psychologists' advice is a lot more practical.

Economists are big on working to make money, then using the money to buy the things that make us happy. Which things, exactly? Who knows? Economists cop out at this point by assuming you know what things make you happy.

Psychologists assume nothing, but conduct studies and experiments to see which things make us happiest and whether we always know to pick them.

Often we don't. Some years back I wrote up the recommendations of three North American psychologists in their paper, If money doesn't make you happy then you probably aren't spending it right.

Their advice included spending on experiences rather than objects, spending on others rather than yourself (eg Christmas) and on small pleasures rather than big luxuries.

Research shows that small pleasures – such as a cold beer on a hot day or, for my family, a hot cup of tea on a cold day – are some of life's most "salient" (noticeable) instances of happiness.

But soon after, three marketing academics, Jennifer Aaker, Melanie Rudd and Cassie Mogilner, published a complementary paper, If money does not make you happy, consider time.

Ah yes, time. One of the most valuable commodities we possess, but often spend unwisely. We work less efficiently than we could (guilty) and waste too much of our leisure time sprawled in front of the box watching reruns of Midsomer Murders (ditto).

Time tends to be laden with personal meaning – we live through it, after all – compared with money which, at best, contains potential. And time fosters interpersonal connection.

Since both personal meaning and social connection have been found to be critical to happiness, for individuals to consider how they spend their time ought to be important in their efforts to "solve the happiness puzzle".

The authors' first suggestion is to spend time with the right people. That doesn't mean cosying up to Malcolm and Lucy, it means that social leisure activities contribute more to happiness than solitary ones.

People who engage in social activities more frequently, experience higher levels of happiness than those who engage less often.

Whatever the activity, you usually enjoy it more if you do it with other people.

But it's not only whether you spend your time with others, but who the others are. More satisfaction comes from spending it with friends, family and significant others (or "the wife", as we probably should revert to saying during the Trumpocene) than with bosses and co-workers.

That's no doubt true but, since most of us have little choice but to spend much time with workmates, it makes a lot of sense to turn workmates into friends whose company we enjoy.

The authors say two of the best predictors of people's general happiness are whether they have a best friend at work, and whether they like their boss.

As the quality of workplace friendships increases, so do happiness and productivity, studies suggest.

The authors' second suggestion is to spend your time on the right activities. Regular checking by testers shows that hanging out with family and friends comprise the happiest parts of the day, whereas working and commuting make for particularly unhappy portions of the day.

But, again, if you can possibly wriggle your way into a position where you enjoy your work, you'll do much better in the happiness stakes.

Third suggestion is to enjoy the experience without spending the time. Neurological studies show people get much pleasure merely from thinking about activities they find pleasurable.

You can get a lot of pleasure from reading up on and planning a holiday even if, for whatever reason, you end up putting it off.

You can derive pleasure from window shopping, and the pleasure gained from shopping for a dress may exceed the pleasure from actually acquiring the dress, they say.

But the authors' next suggestion is roughly opposite to the previous one: expand your time. Rather than spending a lot of time salivating over future purchases or adventures, focus on "the now".

One possible benefit from being present-focused is that it slows down the perceived passage of time, allowing people to feel less rushed.

In one study, people instructed to take long, slow breaths for five minutes not only felt there was more time available to get things done, but also perceived their day to be longer.

Let me wish that 2017 is a year in which you perceive yourself to be less rushed.

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Why I'm a pathological optimist, in spite of my job

Last week in front of 1400 people at a Fairfax Media subscriber event I was outed as a "pathological optimist" by an anonymous reader, who wanted to know how I got that way.

It reminded me of Dylan Thomas, who went into a pub in America and got beaten up by some big bruiser – a future Trump voter, no doubt – for calling him heterosexual.

But, since you ask, I'll tell you – much as I hate talking about myself.

I think it's partly heredity, and partly by choice. When you grow up in the Salvos, professing to be "saved", it's natural to be happy with life and confident Someone Upstairs will look after you.

My mother was an incessant worrier and I grew up seeing her worrying about a lot problems that never eventuated. My father wasn't a worrier. I decided to take after my dad.

In truth, as optimists go I'm out and proud.

I can only guess at what the future holds, but people are always asking for my prediction.

If you want a forecast that errs on the optimistic side, I'm your man. If you want death and destruction, feel free to take your business elsewhere.

Many people switch between economic optimism and pessimism depending on whether they approve of the present government. Not me.

Of course, if I thought we were staring recession in the face I'd say so. Even if I thought the possibility was a lot higher than normal I'd say so – though I'd keep the announcement sober rather than sensational.

Most of the time, however, the safest and most likely prediction is that next year will be much the same as this year. When it's a half full/half empty choice, you know which way I'll jump. (You know, too, that an economist is someone who thinks the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.)

What I said at that event last week was that I'm an optimist because "it's easier to get through life that way".

It's true. I commend it to you. And I have scientific proof. Professor Martin Seligman, of the University of Pennsylvania, a founder of the positive psychology school and author of Learned Optimism, has written that optimism and hope are quite well-understood, having been the object of thousands of empirical studies.

They "cause better resistance to depression when bad events strike, better performance at work, particularly in challenging jobs, and better physical health".

Other research has shown that individuals who profess pessimistic explanations for life events have poorer physical health, are prone to depression, have a less adequately functioning immune system and are more frequent users of medical and mental healthcare.

A study by Toshihiko Maruta and others at the Mayo Clinic, which followed almost 450 patients over 30 years, found that optimists lived longer than pessimists and reported better physical and mental health. Wellness is attitudinal, not just physical.

My conclusion is that optimists live happier lives than pessimists. But are optimists happier people or are happy people more optimistic? Bit of both, is my guess.

Which is not to say optimism is rational or realistic. It isn't. Seligman defines optimism as a style of explaining life events.

Pessimists think the bad things that happen to them are permanent ("the boss is a bastard") whereas optimists think they're temporary ("the boss is in a bad mood").

Pessimists think the good things that happen to them are temporary ("my lucky day") whereas optimists think they're permanent ("I'm always lucky").

Pessimists have universal explanations for their failures ("I'm repulsive") whereas optimists have specific explanations ("I'm repulsive to him").

But don't knock self-deluding optimism. It's a motivating force for innovation and entrepreneurial endeavour and it keeps the capitalist system turning.

Business people invent new gismos and launch new products because they're convinced the new thing will be hugely successful, making their name and fortune.

Few succeed. Most do their dough. But the ones who do succeed make us more prosperous than we were. Then they try again.

But I confess my optimism is part professional calculation. As a commentator I have a contrarian streak. When all my competitors are saying black, I look for a way to say white.

This isn't hard or contrived because the media have an inbuilt tendency to predict the worse, believing this will please the audience and make them more popular.

Journalists believe our audience finds bad news more interesting than good news. For sound evolutionary reasons I've discussed before, this is right.

But ever intensifying competition has prompted the media to go over the top in their search for the big and bad.

Trouble is, most readers are optimists like me. They want to sustain their belief that, despite the bad things happening, the world is still fundamentally good, Australians are basically decent people despite some recent lapses, and life will get better, not worse.

I fear the bad-worse-worst news formula may be too depressing for some people, prompting them to switch to Facebook and photos of their friends' latest holiday.

If that's how you feel, dear reader, I'm here to help.

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