For better housing affordability, try the premier, not the PM

People have been complaining about the unaffordability of houses for as long as I’ve been a journalist. In all that time, governments have professed great concern, while doing nothing of consequence. But I suspect their insouciance can’t last much longer.

Over the years, the prices of houses and apartments have risen much faster that household incomes have risen, gradually lowering the proportion of Australians able to afford a home of their own.

So the problem keeps getting worse and, with interest rates having risen so far so fast, as well as renters now feeling so much pain, it wouldn’t surprise me if, in coming federal and state elections, many younger voters – and some of their parents – were really steamed up about the issue.

If so, both Labor and the Liberals will be vulnerable to minor parties offering solutions – sensible or otherwise. But what could the major parties do to reduce the problem?

Well, nothing that some people wouldn’t vigorously object to. That’s why the political duopoly has done so little for so long.

The unending rise in house prices has been caused by various factors – some under the control of the federal government, some controlled by the states.

If prices keep rising, this suggests that demand is outstripping supply. In general, the feds have more direct influence over the demand for housing, whereas the states have more direct influence over the supply of them.

It’s wrong to assume that all the problems are coming from either the demand side or the supply side. But, of late, economists have been focusing on the supply side, which points the finger at state governments.

At first blush, if house prices are high and rising, this suggests not enough houses are being built. That’s probably true at present, with immigrants coming faster than we’re building new dwellings for them to live in.

But, over the decades, supply has eventually caught up with demand, so that doesn’t explain why prices have been rising for ages.

And, if it was just a matter of building enough houses to accommodate the growing population, cities would just keep spreading out for ever. That would be expensive – with all the extra transport and infrastructure you’d have to build – and not everyone wants to live that far out from the CBD.

So, the real supply issue is not that we should be building enough houses, it’s building enough housing where people want to live. And the truth is that many people want to live closer in.

As the NSW Productivity Commission explains in a new report, state planning systems make it “difficult to build enough new homes where people want to live – close to jobs, transport, schools and other amenities”.

“Instead, the system encourages urban sprawl, forcing people into longer and longer commutes. These policies increase inequality, especially for low and middle-income workers.”

Guess what happens if governments don’t allow enough homes to be built where people want to live? The prices of homes in, or nearer to, the most desirable areas get bid up relative to prices out in the boondocks, forcing up the median price.

As Australia’s population has grown so rapidly over the decades, the populations of Sydney, Melbourne and the other state capitals have increased greatly, but done so mainly by spreading out.

This has made housing more expensive, as people have had to pay more to live in the closer-in, more desirable parts of the city. Inevitably, it’s the better-off who get the best spots and the less well-paid who have to live further out, where the amenity is less.

Everyone’s paying more for their housing, but the well-off pay a smaller proportion of their income than those in the middle and at the bottom. This pushes families to compromise on where they live – further from family, friends and jobs.

The NSW Productivity Commission report says poor housing affordability brings four disadvantages to individual families and the community. It leaves families with less to spend on other things. It reduces the productivity of the nation’s labour because so many people who want to work can’t afford to live near their best employment prospects.

It adds to environmental damage because more workers live further from city centres and endure long, polluting commutes to their jobs.

And it reduces people’s quality of life because so much of our cities’ populations end up too far from the beach, sports arenas, big entertainment venues and other amenities.

So, what can state governments do to reduce these costs and make our lives better?

We should build more new homes in areas closer to the city’s centre. “These areas offer both the richest collection of job opportunities, and a supply of already-built infrastructure and other amenities whose capacity can be leveraged and expanded,” the report says.

What we need to do is build up, not out, and achieve more “infill” of unused or underutilised land close in.

Specifically, the report says, we need three changes. First, raise average apartment heights in suburbs close to the CBD (and to job opportunities).

Second, allow more development around transport hubs, such as train stations, and take advantage of our existing infrastructure capacity.

And third, encourage more townhouses and other medium-density development, and allow more dual-occupancy uses such as granny flats, where higher density is not an option.

The report argues that, even if the new supply of homes targets the high end of town, building more housing closer to the CBD, “downward filtering” means affordability improves everywhere.

The new, more expensive homes near the centre will be occupied by high-income families. But they will leave behind high-quality homes that middle-income families can move to, leaving their homes to be occupied by lower-income families.

NSW Productivity Commissioner Peter Achterstraat says that “if you believe, as I do, that today’s kids deserve the same shot at the Australian dream that my generation had, we need to change our planning system and build near existing infrastructure to make room for them”.

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PwC: How are the haughty chartered accountants fallen

As we watch the Albanese government and the Senate crossbench getting to the bottom of what’s become “The PwC Scandal”, it’s important to join the dots. It’s not just a question of who did what and when, and how they’ll be held accountable for their actions. It’s more a question of how did a formerly highly respected firm of chartered accountants come to behave in such an unethical and possibly illegal way. And how did the federal government allow itself to get into such a compromised position?

It’s an issue that interests me on many levels. There’s a caste system among accountants, and the ones who call themselves “chartered” – acting under a charter from the King – regard themselves as the brahmins.

Before I became a journalist almost 50 years ago, I worked for one of the “big eight” firms of chartered accountants – Australian partnerships that had affiliated with one of the eight big, American-based international firms. (I’m still a fellow of the chartered accountants’ institute.)

The big eight coalesced into today’s big four, with their snappy, slimmed-down names: PwC, KPMG, Deloitte and EY. Historically, the main thing they did was audit publicly listed companies, certifying that their published accounts were “true and fair”. They also gave tax advice and did rich people’s tax returns.

But there’s not much money in auditing, so each of the big four has branched out into providing consulting services to big companies – in a big way. The consultants – few of whom would be accountants – have become the fat tail wagging the chartered dog.

There is much potential conflict of interest between these three activities, and it’s possible this scandal will hasten the separation of the auditors from the consultants – something that should have happened ages ago.

That’s enough about boring accountants, except to say that, if you wonder why PwC has been so slow to send the offending heavies packing, it’s because these businesses aren’t companies with the usual command structure, they’re unwieldy partnerships. “Why should I vote to get rid of one of my partners, when I might be next?” In Australia, PwC has about 900 partners and 8000 staff.

These days, much of the big four’s income is from consulting to federal and state governments. In 2021-22, the feds paid $21 billion for “external labour” – consultants, but also contractors and labour-hire companies. Senator Barbara Pocock, of the Greens, says this is equivalent to 54,000 full-time workers, and compares with 144,000 directly employed federal public servants.

Barrister Geoffrey Watson has asked “why is Australia outsourcing so much of its governing to private enterprise? Policy development and implementation are now routinely taken from the public service and turned over to private consultants.”

To leftie academics, the answer is that it’s part of the rise of “neoliberalism”. To me, its part of the quixotic quest for smaller government and lower taxes, via deregulation and privatisation in all its forms: not just the sale of government-owned businesses, but the provision of publicly funded services such as job search, childcare, aged care and disability care by church and community groups and profit-making businesses.

Plus, in the present case, getting rid of public servants in favour of advice from private consulting firms. At the beginning, the big four had no great understanding of public policy. But they set up offices in Canberra and hired many of the policy experts being let go by government. These people got paid a lot more, and their services sold back to the government at an even higher rate.

What’s not to like? It’s only taxpayers’ money.

Remember that PwC’s questionable behaviour occurred long before the arrival of the Albanese government. It was the Coalition government, particularly under Scott Morrison, that distrusted and disliked public servants.

One of the attractions of paying outside consultants for advice is that, to ensure repeat business, they tend to tell you what they think you want to hear. Whether in auditing or consulting, the notion that anyone can buy genuinely independent advice is a delusion.

According to Andrew Podger, a former senior public servant, the government’s imposition of ceilings on staff numbers and wage bills “led to the use of external labour even when departments knew it didn’t represent value for money”.

Consultants will always give their business’s profits priority over the public interest. When you join the dots, they go from the PwC affair to the problems we encountered years ago with privately owned childcare, the royal commission into aged care, and all the present problems with the cost of the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

The great experiment of finding out whether it’s better for public services to be delivered by the private sector than the tea-drinking public servants has been a resounding failure. And the suggestion that, by dishonouring its confidentiality agreements, PwC may have broken the law, provides a link to the royal commission on banking misconduct, and even to the epidemic of wage theft.

Somehow or other, the “smaller government” policies of recent decades have left many businesses believing they are no longer required to obey the law.

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Gilding the budget lily: Labor brings in the creative accountants

This month’s budget is not as profligate as its critics claim, but nor is it the deficit-disappearing, penny-pinching budget it was tricked up to be.

When ministerial staffers use words to gild the fiscal lily, it’s called spin doctoring. When the government’s bureaucrats show the treasurer and, more particularly, the finance minister how to do it with numbers, it’s called creative accounting.

So, never fear, Jim Chalmers and Katy Gallagher didn’t need to pay PwC a motza to explain how to make the budget seem better than it was.

No, not the way the former NSW Coalition government paid KPMG to show it how to make its budget balance look better by moving the state’s trains off-budget. Nor has the same firm been paid by another part of the state government to write a report on why it was a bad idea.

There was something a bit odd about the media’s treatment of Chalmers’ second budget. Because the budget’s purpose is to reveal the government’s plans for taxing and spending in the coming financial year, the media give all their attention to the budget balance for the coming year.

Which, this time, is expected to be a deficit of $14 billion, rising to $35 billion the following year, with the budget projected to stay in deficit through to at least 2033-34.

Usually, the media ignore the estimated budget balance in the present financial year, which will end on June 30. It’s “old”. But not this year. This time, a surplus of $4 billion is expected.

Once the media got wind of a surplus, they lost interest in anything else. A surplus! First surplus in 15 years! What an achievement. And after being in power for only a year. How could you get more convincing proof of Labor’s skill as a manager of government finances?

Now, let’s be clear. The expected surplus is perfectly believable, and not the product of creative accounting. But it is the media displaying their economic ignorance.

For a start, in a budget of $630 billion a year, in an economy of $2600 billion a year, a surplus of a mere $4 billion is nothing to get excited about. It’s really a balanced budget, just as much as a deficit of $4 billion would be near enough to a balanced budget.

More significantly, the notion that any treasurer, no matter how wonderful, could turn an expected deficit of $78 billion into a surplus of $4 billion in the space of a year is fanciful. If any pollie should get the credit for it, it would have to be Chalmers’ Liberal predecessor, Josh Frydenberg.

Only he had enough time to do the things capable of helping produce such a result. With the benefit of hindsight, what Frydenberg did was greatly overstimulate the economy, adding to a surge in inflation as well as causing the unemployment rate to fall to 3.5 per cent so workers and businesses paid a lot more income tax.

Another way to look at it is that, had Treasury been better at forecasting, Frydenberg could have forecast a return to budget balance in his last budget.

But this didn’t stop Chalmers and his spin doctors from claiming the credit for himself. Consider this from the budget papers: “The improved fiscal outlook since October largely reflects government decisions to return tax upgrades to budget.”

Talk about twisting the truth. Chalmers wants to take all the credit because, confronted with an unexpected surge in tax collections of $88 billion, he only spent a bit of it.

But, surely, it was the silly media that made all the fuss about the surplus, not that nice young Mr Chalmers. Well, that’s certainly what his spin doctors want you to think – all the adulation came from the crowd.

But they were subtly pushing an easily distracted media in a favourable direction. Consider this. The usual practice in the construction of budget tables is to highlight the coming “budget year”. Not this time. This time it was the old year that got highlighted. So, the $4 billion surplus was shown in bold type, not the $14 billion deficit.

(By the way, as The Australian Financial Review has reported, had Frydenberg’s $690 million [yes, million] deficit in 2018-19 – the one that presaged all the Libs’ happy election talk about “back in black” – been calculated using the same accounting rules under which Chalmers’ surplus was calculated, it would have been a surplus of $7 billion. But no, this isn’t a fiddle, either. The decision to change the rules was made, in prospect, many years earlier by some finance minister named Penny Wong.)

Now we get to the creative accounting, which the Centre for Independent Studies’ Robert Carling, a former NSW Treasury officer, has pointed out. The budget papers make much of the claim that “the government’s spending restraint has limited real [note the real] payments growth to an average 0.6 per cent over five years from 2022-23 to 2026-27”.

Wow. Now that’s what I call restraint. What an achievement. Elsewhere in the papers we’re told that this compares with real average spending growth of about 4 per cent in the eight years before the global financial crisis, and 2.2 per cent over the eight years before the pandemic.

Wow. What restraint the Albanese government is showing. Except that pollies usually quote budget figures over the four years of the budget year plus three years of “forward estimates”. So, why is the 0.6 per cent an average over five years?

Because the extra year includes in the sum the pre-budget year ending in a month. And, purely by chance, real government spending in 2022-23 is expected to fall by 4.3 per cent.

By contrast, real spending in the coming year will grow by 3.7 per cent. Then comes projected annual real growth of 0.6 per cent, 1.9 per cent and 1 per cent.

Why the huge fall this year? Partly, I suspect, because of the effect of temporary pandemic spending programs coming to an end. But also because the indexation of various spending programs was lagging the huge rise in the consumer price index, which is the inflation measure used to calculate the “real” change.

What’s worth remembering from this little fiddle is: never trust calculations of average spending growth into the future. The first year will be close to the truth, but the projections for subsequent years will always be way too low because they’re based on the assumption of unchanged policies, whereas it’s certain that spending plans will have grown by the time we get there.

The first treasurer to con me with this averaging trick was Chalmers’ former boss, Wayne Swan. But Swan got his comeuppance by making himself a laughing-stock when he treated Treasury’s forecasts of future budget surpluses as in the bag. Turned out they weren’t.

The assumptions that policies won’t change and that targets will always be achieved are the reason the budget papers’ “medium-term” projections of deficits and debt 10 years into an unknowable future shouldn’t be taken seriously.

In both sense of the word, they are calculated to mislead.

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What they don't tell you about how the budget works

Now we have some space, there are things I should tell you that there’s never time for on budget night. If you don’t know these things, the media can unwittingly mislead you, and the government spin doctors can knowingly mislead you.

A budget’s just a plan for how much income you’re expecting in the coming period, and what you want to spend it on. Governments have budgets and so do businesses and families.

You may think you know a lot about budgeting and that all you need is common sense, but the federal government’s budget ain’t like any other budget you’ve known.

Where people go wrong is assuming the government’s budget is the same as their own household budget, only much bigger. Families budget so they don’t end up spending more than they earn.

But governments often spend more than they raise in taxes – run at a “deficit” – and only occasionally spend less than they raise – run a “surplus”. When they run deficits, they borrow to cover it; when occasionally they run a surplus, they can pay back a bit of it.

Governments can borrow, and keep borrowing, in a way families can’t. Why? Because they can’t go broke. When they run short of money, they can do what no family can do: order all the other families to give them money. It’s called taxation.

And national governments can go one step further and print their own money. Money is just a piece of plasticky stuff that’s worth, say, $50. Why is it worth $50? For no reason other than that the government says it is, and everyone believes it.

Actually, these days the government doesn’t print money so much as create it out of thin air, by crediting bank accounts. This is done not by the government itself, but by a bank the government owns: the Reserve Bank. It created hundreds of billions during the pandemic (although now the Reserve is making the government gradually pay it back, by actually borrowing the money).

Everyone knows that whatever you borrow has to be paid back. What’s more, you have to keep paying interest on the debt until it is paid back. Parents know they have to get any home loan paid back before they retire.

The trouble with a family is that eventually it dies. The kids grow up and start families of their own, then mum and dad pop off. But governments don’t die. The nation’s government acts on behalf of all the families in the country. There are always some families dying, but always others taking their place.

This is why families have to pay back their debts, but governments don’t – and often choose not to. Because governments go on and on, the main way they get on top of their debts is by waiting for the economy to outgrow them, so the size of their debt declines relative to the size of the economy.

Remember, unless you add to it, a debt is a fixed dollar amount, whereas the size of the economy – gross domestic product – grows with inflation and “real” economic growth.

The final thing making government budgets different from family budgets is that a particular family’s budget is too small to have any noticeable effect on the economy, whereas the federal budget is so big – about a quarter the size of the economy – that changes the government makes in its spending and taxing plans can have a big effect on an individual family’s budget and indeed, many families’ budgets.

But it also works the other way: what happens to one family won’t have a noticeable effect on the budget, but what happens to many families – say, everyone’s getting bigger pay rises, or many families are cutting back because they’re having trouble coping with the cost of living – certainly will affect the budget.

What common sense doesn’t tell you is that there’s a two-way relationship between the budget and the economy. The budget can affect the economy, but the economy can affect the budget.

Whenever a treasurer announces on budget night that he (one day we’ll get a she) is expecting the budget deficit to turn into a surplus, the media usually assume this must be because of something he’s done.

Possibly, but it’s more likely to be because of something the economy did. In this month’s budget, it’s because the economy’s been growing strongly, leading families and companies to earn more income and pay more tax on it.

Because many in the media imagine the government’s budget is the same as a family’s budget, they assume that budget deficits are always a bad thing and surpluses a good thing.

Not necessarily. If the budget was in surplus during a recession, that would be a bad thing because it would mean that, by raising more in taxes than it was spending, the budget would be making life even harder for families.

Only when the economy’s growing too fast and adding to inflation pressure is it good to have the budget in surplus and so helping to slow things down. And deficits are a good thing when the economy’s in recession because this means that, by spending more than it’s raising in taxes, the budget’s helping to prop up the economy.

But not to worry. When the economy goes into recession, the budget tends to go into deficit – or an existing deficit gets bigger – automatically. Why? Because people pay less tax and the government has to pay unemployment benefits to more people. Economists call this the budget’s “automatic stabilisers”.

Hidden away in the budget papers you find Treasurer Jim Chalmers quietly admitting he has no intention of trying to pay off the big public debt he inherited. His “overarching goal” is to “reduce gross debt as a share of the economy over time”.

Finally, for a family, a $4 billion surplus is an unimaginably huge sum of money. But for a federal government, it’s petty cash.

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Reach into your pocket, rise of the care economy will come at a cost

From even before the days early last century when people began leaving the farm to work in city factories, the industry structure of our economy has always been changing. In the ’80s, we saw the decline of manufacturing and the rise and rise of the service industries.

We’re probably kidding ourselves, but it seems the pace at which the economy is changing is faster than ever before. What’s certain is that change is occurring in several fields.

As explained in a part of this month’s budget papers I call Treasury’s sermon, it’s happening on at least three fronts. What gets the most attention is our transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy. Then there’s all the change coming from the digital revolution, which is working its way through many industries, with the use of artificial intelligence expected to bring much more change.

But the industry trend that’s doing the most to change how we live our lives is the rise of the “care economy”. On the surface we see childcare, disability care and aged care, but looking deeper we see nurses, allied health professionals, social workers and welfare workers. There are those who work directly with people receiving care, and an army of support workers in clinics, kitchens, laundries and cleaning stations.

By Treasury’s reckoning, the proportion of our workforce employed in the care economy has gone from 2 per cent in the ’60s to 10 per cent today. About 80 per cent of these workers are women, and more than 16 per cent of all working women work in the care economy.

Treasury offers three main reasons for this rise. Most obvious is the ageing of the population, which is greatly increasing the demand for healthcare and aged care.

Less obvious, but more significant, is what Treasury calls “a transition from informal to formal care”. In the old days, women stayed at home to look after young kids, aged parents and anyone with a disability.

But once girls became better educated, more of them wanted to put their education to work in paid employment. So young children went to childcare, oldies went off to a home and, particularly since the advent of the National Disability Insurance Scheme a decade ago, people with disabilities got more professional care.

One of the simple truths of economics is that economies are circular. On the one hand, more women wanted to go out to paid employment. On the other, this created more paid jobs for women in childcare, aged care and disability care.

As medical science advanced, there were more jobs for women in hospitals and clinics, in the allied professions as well as medicine and nursing – which now requires a degree.

Our greater understanding of the way brains develop has prompted us to begin schooling one or two years earlier, and turn childcare into “early childhood education and care”. Play-based learning became a thing. And more childcare workers needed teacher training.

Treasury’s final explanation for the inexorable rise of the care economy is “increased citizen expectations of government”. Just so. Our growing affluence has involved increased demand for services best paid for via the public purse.

All this has a lot further to go. A former government agency expected the demand for care economy workers to double over the next 25 years or so. Fine – but that says we’ll all be paying a lot more tax to cover it.

And there are other reasons the cost of care will be increasing. One is the weird notion that women should be paid as much as men. Another is that we can’t go on exploiting the motherly instincts of women by paying those in caring jobs less than those in uncaring jobs (so to speak).

One reason we can’t go on underpaying care economy workers is that they ain’t taking it any more. There are shortages of workers, and those who do sign up often don’t stay long once they see how tough the work is.

This budget includes the cost of a special, 15 per cent pay rise for aged care workers, awarded by the Fair Work Commission because their work had been undervalued. Nothing to do with the cost of living – that’s on top. Don’t think there won’t be more work-value cases elsewhere in the care economy.

Then there’s the fate of the theory that getting the care delivered by private businesses would be more efficient and so save money. Wrong. They made their profits by cutting quality.

As for the runaway cost of the NDIS, I think it’s more a matter of providers seeing the government as an easy mark. The government’s hoping to limit the cost growth to a mere 8 per cent a year – but we’ll see about that.

In recent times, much of the nationwide growth in jobs has come from the care economy. Which should be a comfort to those wondering where the jobs will come from in future. I don’t see our kids and oldies being left to the care of robots any time soon.

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THE BUDGET, INFLATION AND MACROECONOMIC MANAGEMENT

UBS HSC Economics Day

There’s never been a better time to be studying macroeconomics than this year. If you want to know why economics is interesting and important – why it deals with real-world problems – turn on the radio or television news, read the paper, look on the internet or just look out the window. What you see is people struggling to cope with the cost of living, as prices rise much faster than wages, as the Reserve Bank keeps increasing mortgage interest rates, rents keep rising and Treasurer Jim Chalmers makes sure his budget isn’t worsening inflation, while giving families a little relief from the rising cost of living.

Macroeconomic management involves national governments and central banks trying to smooth the ups and downs in aggregate demand – spending – as the economy moves through the business cycle of boom and bust. The economic managers try to keep the growth in demand as stable as possible because, when growth’s too weak this increases unemployment, while when growth’s too strong this causes inflation. The two tools or “instruments” the economic managers use to stabilise demand are monetary policy (the manipulation of interest rates) and fiscal policy (use of the budget to manipulate government spending and taxation).

When the Covid pandemic broke out in early 2020, the great fear was that our use of lockdowns – ordering everyone to stay at home and leave the house as little as possible – to slow the spread of the virus until a vaccine could be developed would lead to massive unemployment. To prevent this, the economic managers applied extra stimulus to demand. Interest rates were already very low, but the Reserve Bank cut them further. However, the main stimulus came from the federal government increasing government spending and tax concessions by more than $300 billion over two years.

The return to full employment

The result of all this stimulus was that the economy rebounded quickly from the lockdowns and then grew very strongly. As a result, after shooting up to 7.5 pc, the rate of unemployment quickly fell back and kept on falling until it had dropped to 3.5 pc, its lowest in almost 50 years. The rate of under-employment also fell sharply, with the rate of participation in the labour force rising to a record high. As well, an unusually high proportion of the extra jobs created have been full-time. So the one good thing we have to show for the pandemic is our unexpected return to full employment, after an absence of half a century.

The return of high inflation

For a number of years before the pandemic, economic growth was slow, the unemployment rate got stuck above 5 per cent, there was little growth in real wages, and nothing the Reserve Bank did could get the rate of inflation up into its 2 or 3 pc target range.  But about two years ago inflation began shooting up, reaching a peak of 7.8 pc at the end of last year (2022). It has since begun falling back, and was 7 pc in March this year, but this is still way too far above the target band.

Many factors contributed to this surge in inflation. One was shortages of cars, computer chips and many other things, caused by the pandemic’s disruption of their supply. Another was leaps in the world price of fossil fuels and some foodstuffs, caused by the war in Ukraine. These are cases of imported inflation, caused by shortages of supply, not demand. But it’s also clear that the strong growth in demand in our economy following the stimulus and end of the lockdowns is adding to the prices of locally made goods and services. It’s this local source of inflation pressure that has prompted the RBA to increase the official cash rate 11 times since May last year, increasing the rate by 3.75 percentage points to 3.85 pc.

The “policy mix”

Since the 1980s, Australia has followed the practice of giving monetary policy the primary role in achieving “internal balance” – price stability and full employment, aka low inflation and low unemployment. This leaves fiscal policy (the budget) playing a subsidiary role. It assists monetary policy by allowing the budget’s “automatic stabilisers” to improve the budget balance when the economy is booming and monetary policy is trying to restrain demand. Fiscal policy assists monetary policy when the economy is dropping into recession, by allowing the budget’s automatic stabilisers to worsen the budget balance.

Apart from assisting monetary policy, fiscal policy’s primary role is to achieve “fiscal consolidation” – to cut the budget deficit when the economy is recovering from a downturn, so as to limit the growth in the public debt (and the annual interest bill on it). This is so the budget and fiscal policy will be well-placed to be used to support the economy during the next recession or pandemic.

Note, however, that it is good for fiscal policy to take the main stabilisation role from monetary policy during emergencies such as recessions and pandemics. The stage we’re at now is that the emergency has passed, so the primary stabilisation role has passed back to monetary policy and it’s time to get the budget deficit down and keep it low.

The 2023 budget

The former government’s use of the budget to respond to the pandemic caused the budget deficit to blowout to $85 billion (or 4.3 pc of GDP) in 2019-20 and rise to a peak of $134 billion (6.4 pc) in 2020-21.

But most of the pandemic measures were temporary so, with the end of spending measures and the strong recovery causing the budget’s automatic stabilisers to change direction and start tax receipts growing strongly, the following year (2021-22) saw the deficit fall back to $32 billion (1.4 pc).

Mr Chalmers forecast that the budget balance would improve further in the financial year that ends next month, 2022-23, to a tiny surplus of $4 billion (0.2 pc). This further improvement was caused by the continued strong growth in the economy, with more people in jobs, pay tax and not having to get unemployment benefits. Although wages aren’t rising fast enough to keep up with prices, they are rising faster than they were, meaning more of workers’ wages is being lost to “bracket creep”. In other words, it’s the budget’s automatic stabilisers that are doing most to get the deficit down. As well, mining companies are paying more company tax because world prices for our mineral and energy exports have stayed high. So the only credit Mr Chalmers should get for this is for keeping his new spending limited, so that almost all the surge in tax collections went through to the budget bottom line.

In the coming financial year, 2023-24, the economy is expected to slow, while government spending grows faster than tax collections. This should cause the budget to return to a small deficit of $14 billion (0.5 pc) and go a bit higher to about $36 billion (1.3 per cent of GDP) in the following two financial years.

The “stance” of policy adopted in the budget

In deciding whether the budget helps or hinders its efforts to slow the growth in demand (spending) the RBA doesn’t look at particular budget measures. Rather, it looks at the direction and size of the expected change in the budget balance. Mr Chalmers is expecting the budget balance to improve from a deficit of $32 billion in 2021-22 to a surplus of $4 billion in the financial year just ending. This means the gap between how much the budget puts into the economy in spending and how much it takes out in taxes should improve by $36 billion, a tightening equivalent to 1.6 pc of GDP. But in the coming financial year, the budget balance is expected to worsen by $18 billion, a loosening equivalent to 0.7 pc of GDP. Putting the two years together, I think the RBA will conclude the budget in no way hinders its efforts to slow the growth in demand and reduce the upward pressure on prices.

On these forecasts, I judge the “stance” of fiscal policy adopted in the budget to be “mildly contractionary”.

The outlook for the public debt

Because the strength of the economy’s growth means the budget deficit has fallen much faster that was expected this time last year, the outlook for future budget deficits and levels of gross public debt is now not as bad as we’d earlier thought. Whereas a deficit of $78 billion for the financial year just ending had been expected, a surplus of $4 billion is now expected. This means no increase in the debt this year, and no consequent increase in the annual interest bill in this and subsequent years. Over the 12 years to 2033-34, this is estimated to avoid a total of $83 billion in interest payments. It also implies gross debt is now expected to reach a peak of 36.5 pc of GDP in 2025-26, five years earlier and more than 10 percentage points lower than expect in last October’s budget.

The outlook for the economy

With prices rising faster than wages, bracket creep taking a bigger bite out of wage rises and the RBA raising mortgage interest rates, it will be no surprise to see the economy’s growth slow sharply in the coming financial year. The government’s forecasts predict that, after growing by a very strong 3.25 pc in financial year just ending, real GDP will slow to a very weak 1.5 pc.

The main thing driving that slowdown is likely to be slower growth in consumer spending from 5.75 pc to 1.5 pc. This should get the inflation rate down from 6 pc at present to 3.5 pc by next June, then down into the inflation target zone by June 2025.  Wages are expected to grow by 4 pc over the year to next June – but I wouldn’t start spending the money yet. All this is expected to increase the unemployment rate to 4.5 pc, but not until June 2025. 

And if all that sounds a bit too good to be true – it probably is.

The medium-term fiscal strategy

For many years under Liberal and Labor governments, their “medium-term fiscal strategy” was “achieving budget surpluses, on average, over the economic cycle”. This left the government free to run budget deficits during years when the economy was weak, provided these were offset by budget surpluses during years when the economy was growing strongly.

 With the arrival of the pandemic and all the fiscal stimulus it involved, the liberal government changed to a two-part strategy: first, to support demand during the pandemic. But then, second, once the crisis had passed, to “focus on growing the economy in order to stabilise and reduce debt”.

The new Labor government has adopted its own, rather wishy-washy strategy: “to improve the budget position in a measured way, consistent with the overarching goal of reducing gross [public] debt as a share of the economy [nominal GDP] over time”.  The budget “will be improved in a manner consistent with the objective of maintaining full employment. The government will “allow tax receipts to respond in line with changes in the economy, directing the majority of improvements in tax receipts to budget repair”. This means the new government has abandoned the old government’s 23.9 pc cap on the level of tax receipts as a percentage of GDP.

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Our big risk: fix inflation, but kiss goodbye to full employment

If you think getting inflation down is our one big economic worry, you have a cockeyed view of economic success. Unless we can get it under control without returning to the 5 to 6 per cent unemployment rate we lived with in recent decades, we’ll have lost our one great gain from the travails of pandemic: our return to full employment.

And if we do lose it, it will demonstrate the great price Australia paid for its decision in the 1980s to join the international fashion and hand the management of its economy over to the central bankers.

There has always been a tricky trade-off between the twin objectives of low inflation and low unemployment. If our return to full employment proves transitory, it will show what we should have known: that handing the economy over to the central bankers and their urgers in the financial markets was asking for inflation to be given priority at the expense of unemployment.

In his customary post-budget speech to economists last Thursday, Treasury secretary Dr Steven Kennedy began by explaining to academic economists why their claim that the budget was inflationary lacked understanding of the intricacies of economics in the real world.

But his strongest message was to remind economists why full employment is a prize not to be lost.

Whereas early in the pandemic it was feared the rate of unemployment would shoot up to 15 per cent and be difficult to get back down, the massive fiscal (budgetary) stimulus let loose saw it rise only to half that, and the remarkable economic rebound saw it fall to its lowest level in almost 50 years.

“This experience is altering our views on full employment,” Kennedy says. “One of the stories of this budget – one that risks being lost – is the virtue of full employment.”

For one thing, near-record low unemployment and a near-record rate of participation in the labour force are adding to demand and to our capacity to supply goods and services.

This time last year, Treasury was expecting a budget deficit of $78 billion in the financial year ending next month. Now it’s expecting a surplus of $4 billion. Various factors explain that improvement, but the greatest is the continuing strength of the labour market.

As I explained last week, this revision has significantly reduced the projected further increase in the public debt and, in consequence, our projected annual interest bill on the debt every year forever. It has thereby significantly reduced our projected "structural" budget deficit although, Kennedy insists, has not eliminated it.

And getting a higher proportion of the working-age population into jobs – and having more of the jobs full-time – improves our prospects for economic growth and prosperity.

There’s no source of economic inefficiency greater than having many people who want to work sitting around doing nothing. And adding to the supply of labour is not, of itself, inflationary.

But let’s not confuse means with ends. The most important benefit of full employment goes not to the budget or even The Economy, but to those people who find the jobs, or increased hours of work, they’ve long been seeking.

Kennedy reminds us that the greatest benefit goes to those who find it hardest to get jobs. While the nationwide unemployment rate has fallen by 1.6 percentage point since before the pandemic, it has fallen by 3.2 percentage points for youth, and by 2.3 percentage points for those with no post-school education.

This is where we get to Kennedy’s observation that recent experience is altering Treasury’s views on full employment.

The obvious question this experience raises is: why have we been willing to settle for unemployment rates of 5 to 6 per cent for so long when, as he acknowledges, “the low rate of unemployment and high levels of participation [in the labour force] have been sustained without generating significant wage pressures”?

Short answer: because economists have allowed themselves to be bamboozled by modelling results. Specifically, by their calculations of the “non-accelerating-inflation rate of unemployment” – the NAIRU.

As Kennedy says, the unemployment rate consistent with both full employment and low and stable inflation isn’t something that can be seen and directly measured. So, as with so many other economic concepts, economists run decades of inflation and unemployment data through a mathematical model which estimates a figure.

Economists have redefined full employment to be the 5 or 6 per cent unemployment rate their models of the NAIRU spit out. They think using such modelling results makes decisions about interest rates more rigorous.

But that’s not true if you let using a model tempt you to turn off your brain and stop thinking about whether the many assumptions the model relies on are realistic, and whether more recent changes in the structure of the economy make results based on averaging the past 30 years misleading.

It’s now pretty clear that, at least in recent years, NAIRU models have been setting the rate too high, thus leading the managers of the economy to accept higher unemployment than they should have.

There are at least three things likely to make those modelling results questionable. One is that, as a Reserve Bank official has revealed, the models assume inflation is caused by excessive demand, whereas much of the latest inflation surge has been caused by disruptions to supply.

Professor Jeff Borland, of Melbourne University, points out that the increasing prevalence of under-employment in recent decades makes the models’ focus on unemployment potentially misleading, as does the increasing rate of participation in the labour force.

Third, unduly low unemployment and job shortages are supposed to lead, in the first instance, to wage inflation, not price inflation. But this turns to a great extent on the bargaining power of unionised labour, which many structural factors – globalisation, technological advance, labour market deregulation and the decline in union membership – have weakened.

If the NAIRU models adequately reflect these structural shifts I’d be amazed.

What is clear is that the Reserve Bank’s understanding of contemporary wage-fixing is abysmal. As yet, it has no one on its board with wage-fixing expertise, its extensive consultations with business leaders exclude union leaders, and Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe says little or nothing about wage-fixing arrangements.

And this is despite Lowe’s unceasing worry about the risk of a price-wage spiral and an upward shift in inflation expectations. So far, there’s little evidence of either.

Some increase in unemployment is inevitable as we use the squeeze on households’ disposable income to slow demand and thus the rate at which prices are rising.

But if the Reserve’s undue anxiety about wages and expectations leads it to hit the brakes so hard we drop into recession, and full employment disappears over the horizon, it will be because we handed our economy over to the institution least likely to worry about making sure everyone who wants to work gets a job.

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Climate change will hurt, but we can still be the Lucky Country

What are we in for with climate change? How will it change the environment, the way we live and the way we earn our living? Is it all bad news for the economy, or is there some upside? And, by the way, how much is it costing us as taxpayers?

The previous federal government didn’t want to think about these questions, much less talk about them. You could read the budget papers each year and hardly find a mention.

But all that’s changed with the change of government. So, no surprise that last week’s budget has a lot in it about climate change.

In various parts of the budget papers, the Albanese government acknowledges that, with the globe already having warmed by an average of 1.1 degrees above pre-industrial levels, global warming will continue changing our weather (short-term changes) and climate (longer-term patterns) for the rest of this century.

It will endanger more species and reduce biodiversity. It will adversely affect human health, with more days of extreme heat leading to more deaths of old people.

The productivity of labour and the number of hours worked are expected to decline as temperatures increase, particularly for people who work outdoors in agriculture, construction and some manufacturing.

Treasury expects farming yields to decline, and I expect that, over time, the production of different crops and the grazing of animals will migrate to the parts of Australia where the climate is less unsuitable.

Speaking of migration, you’d expect our population to grow faster where it’s relatively cooler, with fewer people wanting to live where it’s even hotter than it is today.

And that’s before you get to people – refugees, even – moving between countries in response to rising sea levels. Starting, in our case, with people from the islands of the South Pacific.

Treasury says the increased frequency and severity of natural disasters will also lead to reductions in the production of goods and services through disruptions to economic activity, and to the destruction of private property and road, bridge and rail infrastructure.

It shows that the value of insurance claims has steadily increased over the past decade, with temporary peaks caused by the floods in Queensland and NSW in March 2013, Cyclone Debbie and Sydney hailstorms in March 2017, then bushfires and hailstorms in NSW and the ACT in the last quarter of 2019 and the first quarter of 2020.

So far, the greatest insurance claims – $6 billion-worth – were from the floods in south-east Queensland and NSW in the March quarter last year. Then there were (less costly) floods in NSW, Victoria and Tasmania late last year.

Treasury says our economy will be reshaped by both the physical impacts of climate change and by the efforts of the more than 150 countries that have now signed up to the target of net-zero emissions by 2050. What they do will affect us, plus what we ourselves do.

Australia is one of world’s biggest exporters of fossil fuels, so we can expect our exports of coal and gas to decline steadily over the next decade or two, as our overseas customers reduce their own greenhouse gas emissions from burning the dirty fuel they bought from us.

Of course, not all of them will have their own plentiful sources of renewable energy. They’ll have to import it from somewhere, just as they’ve had to import our fossil fuels.

Which gives us an opening. As our great apostle of smart climate change, economics Professor Ross Garnaut, was first to realise, Australia’s huge expanse, full of sun and wind, means we’ll be able to produce far more renewable energy than we need for our own use. And do it cheaply.

Gosh, what good luck we’ve got. Turns out the move to renewables will give us a “comparative advantage” in international trade we didn’t know we had. All we’ve got to do is play our cards right and get in quick before other, less well-endowed countries sign up our potential customers.

The former government wasn’t interested but, as the budget papers make clear, the Albanese government is. The “net-zero transformation”, which represents one of the most significant shifts in the industrial structure of the economy since the Industrial Revolution, “holds major opportunities for Australia, given our endowment of renewable energy sources and our large reserves of many critical minerals,” the papers say.

There is a problem, however. As yet, there isn’t an economic way to ship raw clean electricity and green hydrogen across the sea to other countries.

But this could be a good thing. We can “embed” our renewable energy in our mineral exports by further processing our iron ore into green steel, and our bauxite into green aluminium, before we export them.

Whereas in the old, fossil fuel world the further processing of our minerals before export wasn’t “economic” (profitable) – in the renewables world it could well be economic.

Get it? We could give our declining manufacturing industry a whole new lease on life. What’s more, it would make economic sense to do the further processing out in the regions, close to the solar and wind farms generating the clean electricity.

Implementing such a transformation would require huge capital investment and risk-taking, the early part of which would have to come from the government.

So, yes, climate change – both the bad bits and the good bits – will come at a great cost to the budget, and thus to taxpayers.

The budget papers reveal the Albanese government planning to spend an extra $25 billion on new climate-related programs over several years in its first budget last October, and now a further $5 billion in last week’s budget. Don’t think that will be the last of it.

So, get ready to hand over more in taxes as the government seeks both to ameliorate the costs of climate change and turn the world’s energy transformation to our advantage.

At least now we’ve got a government willing to get off its backside.

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Chalmers and Lowe: good cop, bad cop on the inflation beat

Have you noticed? There’s a contradiction at the heart of Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ budget. Is it helping or harming inflation?

Both Chalmers and Reserve Bank governor Dr Philip Lowe are agreed that our top priority must be to get the rate of inflation down. That’s fine. Everybody hates the way prices have been shooting up. The cost of living has become impossible. Do something!

But while Lowe seems to be just making it all worse, jacking up mortgage interest rates higher and higher, nice Mr Chalmers is using his budget to take a bit of the pressure off, helping with electricity bills, cutting prescription costs and so on.

It’s as though Lowe is the arsonist, sneaking round the bush to start more fires, while Chalmers is the Salvos, turning up at the scene to give the tired firefighters a kind word, a pie and a cup of tea.

Is that how you see it? That’s the way Chalmers wants you to see it, and Lowe knows full well it’s his job to be Mr Nasty at times like this.

But what on earth’s going on? Has the world gone crazy? No, it’s just the usual dance between brutal economics on one hand, and always-here-to-help politics on the other.

Let’s start from scratch. Why do we have an inflation problem? Because, for the past 18 months or so, the prices of the things we buy have been shooting up, rising much faster than our wages, causing the cost of living to become tough for many people.

Why have prices been rising so rapidly? Partly because the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s attack on Ukraine caused international shortages of building materials, cars, computer chips and fossil fuels. But also because the massive increase in our governments’ payments during the pandemic left us cashed up and spending big on locally made goods and services.

When the suppliers of the stuff we buy can’t keep up with our demand for it, they raise their prices. The media may call this “price gouging”, but economists believe it’s what happens naturally in a market economy – and should happen because the higher price gives the suppliers an incentive to produce more. When they do, the price will come down.

When inflation takes off like this, what can the managers of the economy do to stop prices rising so fast? They can do nothing to magically increase supply; that takes time. But what they can do is reduce demand – discourage us from spending so much.

How? This is where it gets nasty. By squeezing households’ finances so hard they have to cut their spending. Once demand for the stuff they’re selling falls back, businesses are much less keen to raise their prices.

At present, households are being squeezed from all directions. The main way is that wages aren’t keeping up with the rise in prices. As well, more of the wage rises people are getting is being eaten up by income tax, thanks to “bracket creep”.

And the fall in house prices means home-owning households aren’t feeling as wealthy as they were.

All that’s before you get to Mr Nasty, raising the interest rates paid by people with mortgages, which is particularly tough on young home owners, with more recent, much bigger mortgages.

(You may wonder if this extra pressure on, say, only about 20 per cent of all households is either fair or the most effective way to get total household spending to slow. And you may be right, but you’d be way ahead of the world’s economists, who think the way they’ve always done it is the only way they could do it.)

But what part is the budget – “fiscal policy” – supposed to play in all this? It should be helping put the squeeze on, not reducing it. Now do you see why some are questioning whether Chalmers’ $14.6 billion “cost-of-living relief package” will help or hinder the cause of lower inflation?

The budget balance shows whether government spending is putting more money into the economy, and its households, than it’s taking out in taxes. If so, the budget’s running a deficit. If it’s taking more money out than it’s put back in, the budget’s running a surplus.

The way the Reserve Bank judges whether the budget is increasing the squeeze on households, or easing it, is to look at the size and direction of the expected change in budget balance from one year to the next.

The budget papers show the budget balance is planned to change from an actual deficit of $32 billion last financial year, 2021-22, to an expected surplus of $4 billion in this financial year, ending next month.

That’s an expected tightening of $36 billion, equivalent to 1.6 per cent of the size of the whole economy, gross domestic product.

No doubt such a change is adding a big squeeze to household incomes. But then the budget balance is expected to worsen in the coming financial year, 2023-24, to a deficit of $14 billion. That’s an easing of pressure on households’ finances equivalent to 0.7 per cent of GDP.

Put the two years together, however, and its clear the budget will still be putting a lot of squeeze on households – on top of all the other squeeze coming from elsewhere.

Somewhere in there is most of Chalmers’ $14.6 billion relief package. As a matter of arithmetic, it’s undeniably true that, had the package – which, by the way, is expected to reduce the consumer price index by 0.75 percentage points – not happened, the squeeze would be, say, $10 billion tighter than it’s now expected to be.

But there’s no way, looking at that – and all the other sources of squeeze – the Reserve will be saying, gosh, Chalmers is adding to inflation pressure, so we’d better raise rates further.

Chalmers has said the “stance” of fiscal policy adopted in the budget is “broadly neutral”. Not quite. So, I’ll say the nasty word Mr Nice Guy doesn’t want to: the stance is “mildly contractionary”.

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Avoiding a tax-cut backlash will be harder than Albanese thinks

Anthony Albanese, who never impressed me when a warrior of the NSW Labor Left, has impressed me greatly by the way he’s conducted himself since becoming prime minister. He wants to raise the standard of political behaviour. Everyone gets listened to with respect, and every election promise he made not to do this, and not to do that, is honoured, no matter how inconvenient.

Having lumbered himself with those promises, Albo is taking the long view. His first term will be used to win voters’ respect and trust, creating a foundation for him to be more comfortably re-elected, with a program of more controversial reform.

Which brings us to the much-debated stage three tax cuts, designed by his political opponents to favour high-income earners at the expense of low and middle earners, something anathema to a Labor government but already put into law.

Many have been urging Albanese and his Treasurer Jim Chalmers to rescind the tax cuts or at least cut them back. But it now seems clear Albanese has made up his mind that the cut, no matter how deleterious, must go ahead. A clear promise was given, and must be kept. Can you imagine the outcry if it wasn’t? Peter Dutton would never let it rest.

Well, I can imagine it. But if Albanese thinks that keeping the promise will mean no outcry, he’s sadly deluded. Once the punters see how little they’re getting compared with how much the fat cats (including a particularly fat economics journo) are getting – once everyone sees the official “what-you-save tax table” published by every masthead – there’ll be a lot of anger.

And guess who’ll be leading the cry. Do you really think Dutton won’t have the front to turn on his own government’s tax cuts? He was trying it out in his budget reply speech last week: “Labor’s working poor”. How about “the struggling middle class”?

Albanese needs to do two things: get Treasury to give him an advance look at that what-you-save table, and get some pollie with a better memory to remind him how “bracket creep” works and how resentful middle income-earners get when they see more and more of every pay rise disappearing in tax.

Because the income tax scale isn’t indexed for inflation, every pay rise you get increases the average rate of tax you pay on the whole of your income – whether or not it literally lifts you into a higher tax bracket. And because the brackets are closer together at the bottom of the scale, bracket creep hits lower incomes harder than middle incomes. But middle incomes are hit harder than high incomes because those people already in the top tax bracket can’t be pushed any higher.

Bracket creep gets greater as inflation increases. The inflation rate’s been unusually high, which has led to higher pay rises, even if they haven’t been big enough to match the rise in prices. Even so, your latest pay rise is having slightly more tax taken out of it than the previous one. So bracket creep is another, hidden reason you’re having trouble keeping up with the cost of living.

If we never got a tax cut, the average rate of tax we pay on all our income would just keep going up and up forever – unless, of course, we never got another pay rise.

This is why every government knows it must have a tax cut every few years if it wants to stop the natives getting restless. But the stage three tax cut we’re due to get from July next year hasn’t been designed to compensate people at the bottom, the middle and the top proportionately to the degree of bracket creep they’ve suffered since 2017-18, when the staged, three-step tax cuts were announced.

Quite the reverse. According to estimates by Paul Tilley, a former Treasury officer, people earning up to roughly $70,000 a year will get tax cuts too small to fully reverse the rise in their average tax rate over the period.

Those earning between $70,000 and $120,000 a year will have their average tax rate cut back to what it was in 2018, whereas those earning more than that – that is, more than 1.5 times the median full-time wage – will get their average tax rate cut to well below what it was in 2018.

Now let’s look at what you save in dollars per week. Albanese says the tax cuts begin at $45,000 a year. The national minimum full-time wage is $42,250. So, people on very low wages, and many with part-time jobs, will get nothing.

On $55,000, you’ll get a saving of $2.40 a week. On the median full-time wage of about $80,000 you’ll get $16.80 a week – that is, no “real” saving. On $120,000, it’s $36 a week.

Meanwhile, me and my mates (and members of parliament), struggling to get by on $200,000 and above, will get a saving of $175 a week, or $25 a day.

Good luck selling that lot, Albo.

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Debt and deficit fixed in just Labor's second budget. Really?

Small things amuse small minds. Too many people have allowed their excitement over an expected budget surplus of a tiny $4 billion this financial year to distract them from noticing a much bigger deal.

Remember that mountain of government debt we ticked up fighting the pandemic? Now Treasurer Jim Chalmers tells us it’s more like a big hill. Remember the frightening spectre of the “structural” budget deficit? Not to worry, it’ll have disappeared in a decade – if you can believe it.

Assuming it happens, achieving an infinitesimally small, and one-off, surplus of $4 billion may be significant politically, but from an economic perspective, it’s not worth popping the champagne cork. In a budget worth $630 billion a year, in an economy worth $2600 billion a year, it’s no more than a rounding error.

No, what’s genuinely significant is not that magic word “surplus”; it’s that this time last year we were expecting a deficit of $78 billion. It’s the absence of another big deficit that’s the big deal. It represents the passage of a year in which we didn’t add to the existing public debt. And, as a consequence, didn’t add to the size of our annual interest bill every year until we’re all dead.

What’s more, the absence of a deficit this year suggests the expected deficits for the next few years will also be smaller than we thought. So next year will see not just a smaller than expected annual interest bill, but a smaller than expected addition to the debt, and thus an even smaller than expected addition to the following year’s interest bill, and so on and on forever.

Well, in principle, anyway. What this news also shows is how hopeless Treasury (and all economists) are at predicting the future.

Next, note that this year’s expected deficit disappeared not thanks to Chalmer’s superior management, but thanks to Treasury’s failure to realise how strong the economy would be. More people are in jobs and paying tax (and not needing to be paid the dole).

Company profits are up, as is the tax they pay. Export commodity prices have stayed higher than Treasury was expecting, so mining companies’ taxes are well up. And remember this: inflation causes taxes to rise faster than government spending does.

But though nothing Chalmers did caused the big improvement, he’d like a round of applause for not spending much of the extra dosh.

And he’s got some very impressive news he’d love me to tell you about. Treasury hasn’t just produced revised forecasts for the financial year just ending and for the budget year 2023-34, it’s done “projections” for a further three years. It’s also made “medium-term” projections right out to 2033-34.

What they show is truly amazing. Unbelievable, even. The budget papers say the absence of the formerly expected $78 billion deficit this financial year, and consequent improvement in forecasts for the following few years, “will avoid $83 billion in interest payments over the 12 years to 2033-34. It also means [the government’s] gross [public] debt, as a share of gross domestic product, will be 7.1 percentage points lower in 2033-34.”

That bit you can believe. It’s just compound interest – which, of course, works in reverse for a borrower rather than a saver.

Now it gets hairy. The Albanese government’s various decisions to limit the growth in government spending mean real spending growth is now “expected to average 0.6 per cent a year over the five years [to] 2026-27”.

This compares with average real (inflation-adjusted) spending growth of about 4 per cent in the eight years before the global financial crisis of 2008, and 2.2 per cent a year over the eight years to 2018-19, before the pandemic.

Really? That’s a truly Herculean achievement. And with so little blood on the floor.

What used to be a mountain of debt is now just a big hill. Phew. And we thought it was only Scott Morrison who could call forth miracles.

Except, of course, that it hasn’t been achieved. It’s just “projected” to happen. All those other averages are “actuals” whereas, the unbelievable 0.6 per cent is simply a projection.

Projections are based on assumptions, which are then mechanically multiplied out, year after year. One assumption is that the economy, and the budget, will just move in a straight line over the next five years, with nothing unexpected – say, a pandemic or a recession – blowing us off course.

The five-year projection says the gross public debt is now expected to peak at 36.5 per cent of GDP in June 2026. Now, get this: this would be 10.4 percentage points lower, and five years earlier, than projected just seven months ago in Labor’s first budget.

And if you keep cranking the projection handle, the public debt “will” (their word) be down to 32.3 per cent of GDP by June 2034.

Next, remember all the economists wringing their hands over the “structural” budget deficit? This is the part of the budget balance that’s left when you take out the part that’s just the product of where the economy happens to be in the business cycle at the time.

The balance will look good when you’re at the top of the boom (as we are now) and bad when you’re at the bottom of a recession (as we may be in a year or two). The structural deficit or surplus is a calculation of what the balance would be if we were in the dead middle of the cycle, neither up nor down.

In Chalmers’ first budget, last October, Treasury took its projection of the budget balance out 10 years, and estimated the structural component to be steady at a deficit of about 2 per cent of GDP.

That’s $50 billion a year in today’s dollars. A medium-size economy with a big debt can’t live with that. We have to get it down, so we’re well placed to borrow heavily in the next recession or pandemic.

Well, has Chalmers got good news for those economist worrywarts. Seven months later, the projection (budget paper No. 1, page 131) shows the structural deficit steadily withering away until it reaches almost nothing in 2033-34.

So, how did Chalmers magic it away? Assumptions, dear boy, assumptions. For years, the biggest single program driving the growth in government spending has been the explosive growth in the National Disability Insurance Scheme.

But the government has decided to take steps to limit its growth to a mere 8 per cent a year. The projections are based on mechanically projecting “existing policy”, so the 8 per cent target – which may or may not be achieved – is baked in.

Take that monumentally optimistic assumption, add further optimism about restraint in other spending areas, allow them to magnify the believable bit (that a disappeared deficit right at the beginning of the projection significantly reduces our formerly expected interest payments over a decade) and you’ve eliminated the problem.

If only reality was as easy.

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How budget spin doctors manipulate our first impressions

These days, federal budgets are just as much marketing and media management exercises as they are financial and economic documents. That’s because the spin doctors’ role has become central to the way Canberra works. This is just as true under Labor as the Coalition. Media management is a characteristic of government by the two-party duopoly.

Budgets are actually the management plan for controling the government’s spending and tax-raising over the coming financial year. Because you can’t do a budget without first making guesses about what will be happening in the economy at the time, the budget documents contain detailed economic forecasts and commentary about what it has supposed will happen.

These forecasts are taken very seriously on budget night, but rarely referred to again. That’s because this era of dominant “monetary policy” (manipulation of interest rates), conducted by an independent central bank, means it’s the Reserve Bank’s forecasts that matter.

We’ve had those already, on Friday. The financial markets care more about the Reserve’s opinions than the government’s because they’re always trying to guess what the central bank will do to interest rates. What’s more, the RBA revises its forecasts quarterly, so the budget forecasts soon become outdated.

All this means the government’s forecasts can’t be very different from the Reserve’s. Differ by more than half a percentage point, and you get headlines about a split between Treasury and the central bank. Nothing the econocrats hate more (even though there’s unceasing rivalry between the two outfits).

A separate question is what effect the budget, and particularly the new measures it contains, will have on the economy: on gross domestic product, inflation and unemployment. Now that the macroeconomic fashion (aka “best practice”) dictates that the management of demand be left to the central bank – except in emergencies, such as the pandemic – the budget papers will contain little discussion of this.

But the inescapable fact remains that, the federal budget being so big relative to the economy, everything it does affects economic growth. That’s true whether the economic effects were intended or are the unintended consequence of politically driven decisions. All budget measures are political but, equally, all have economic consequences.

At this time of year, many people say they don’t know why the government is bothering to hold a budget when it has already announced the changes it’s making. Well, not quite.

What’s true is that, these days, budgets – and the days leading up to them – are highly stage-managed by the spin doctors. These people are based in the PMO – prime minister’s office – with extension into every minister’s office, via the minister’s press secretary. All paid for by the taxpayer, naturally.

The spin doctors’ job is to use the “mainstream media” to convey to voters an unduly favourable view of the government and the things it’s doing. They do this by exploiting the foibles of journalists and their editors.

Hence, the common trick of releasing potentially embarrassing information late on a Friday, when it’s less likely to make the bulletin. The hope is that, by Monday, the under-reported story is passed over as “old”.

The spinners have the great advantage of a near monopoly over news about what the government is doing. Much of this news is put into press releases, but much is held for selective release to journalists and outlets that are in favour with the government. Write a piece like this one and don’t expect to be popular.

In the olden days, many budget “leaks” really were leaks, the product of journalists talking to bureaucrats and putting two and one together to make four. These days, bureaucrats are forbidden to speak to journos, so most budget leaks have come from the spin doctors, intended to soften us up for what’s to come.

Sometimes, something – say, that the government has decided to increase the JobKeeper payment only for the over-55s – is leaked to just one or two news outlets to “run it up the flagpole and see who salutes”. If it goes over well enough, it will happen. If there’s a big adverse reaction it may never be heard of again.

Any bad news is usually officially announced ahead of the budget, so it won’t spoil the budget’s reception on the night. Lots of small but nice decisions will be announced early, so they don’t get overlooked on the night.

But, particularly if there has been a big pre-announced unpopular measure, the spinners will save some nice, un-foreshadowed hip-pocket measure for unveiling on the night. This, being the only major budget measure that’s “new”, will dominate the media’s reporting. I call it the cherry on top.

As a former treasurer, John Kerin, demonstrated in 1991 – much to the disapproval of Paul Keating - there is no genuine need for reporters to be locked up and allowed to see the budget papers well before the treasurer delivers his speech at 7.30pm, immediately after the ABC evening news.

But the budget “lockup” persists to this day because of its great media-management advantages. It’s of much benefit to have the treasurer’s made-for-telly (that is, full of spin) budget speech broadcast in prime time, rather than after lunch. (The smaller disadvantage is that the ABC gives the leader of the opposition – not the shadow treasurer – right of reply, at the same time on Thursday night.)

The other advantage of a lockup is that letting journalists out so late in the day gives them little time to ask independent experts what they thought of the budget. Rather, they’ve spent six hours locked up with Treasury heavies. (I remember one saying to me, long ago: “Not much there to criticise, eh?” )

This media manipulation usually ensures the media’s first impressions are more favourable to the government than they should be, getting the budget off to a good start with the voters. Only on day two do the interest groups finish combing through the fine print and finding the carefully hidden nasties.

All pretty grubby, but true.

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RBA review attacks the groupthink of others, but not its own

With more time to think about it, it’s clear the review of the Reserve Bank is not the sweeping blockbuster shake-up overhaul we were told it was. Even if all its recommendations are accepted, ordinary borrowers and savers won’t discern any difference in the way interest rates go up and down. But to those who work at the Reserve, and the small army of people who make a lucrative living second-guessing its decisions, the proposed “modest improvements” are a big deal.

Ostensibly, they’re aimed at getting the Reserve up to “world best practice”. But that’s just a spin doctor’s term for doing things the same way everyone else does them. Where’s the evidence that the conventional wisdom is sure to be “best practice”?

It’s also a way of concealing the colonial cringe. Because the rich world’s financial markets are now so highly integrated, with the biggest rich country’s Wall Street setting the lead, most people in our financial market think that if we’re not doing it the way the US Federal Reserve does it, we’re obviously doing it wrong.

This inferiority complex is reinforced because, for the past 30 years, most other central banks have conformed to the US Fed’s ways – even the world’s best colony-conscious country, Britain, has switched to the Fed’s way.

So, what is the Fed’s way? To have interest rates set by a special committee of outside experts, meeting eight times a year not monthly, with each member employed part-time and getting lots of research assistance.

The monetary policy committee should hold a press conference after every meeting and each member should give at least one speech a year on the topic.

To be fair, the Reserve’s Americanisation was pre-ordained by Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ terms of reference and his decision to have the inquiry led by Carolyn Wilkins, a former Bank of Canada heavy and now Bank of England heavy.

Of course, just because we do things differently to the others doesn’t guarantee we’re doing it better, any more than it means we’ve been doing it worse. I’d say our performance over the past 30 years – since the introduction of inflation targeting – has seen a few missteps, but been at least as good as any of the others.

And if the American way is “best practice”, how come the Fed’s been so heavily criticised for being slow to respond to the inflation surge?

But let’s be frank. The review’s big criticism of the Reserve is that it’s too insular, too inward looking and inbred. Except when one Treasury man got the job, governors are always promoted internally. The present governor joined the bank from high school. External appointments to senior economic jobs are rare.

As the review’s critique implies, the Reserve is a one-man band. The governor’s word is law, with limited tolerance for debate. He runs as much of the show as he chooses to, leaving the boring bits to his deputy.

It suits the governor to have a board stacked with business people because, not being economists, their doubts are easily dismissed. Employees would never disagree with the boss in front of the board, and any reservations the Treasury secretary may have would be raised in private.

There always used to be a union leader on the board, but he was let go as part of John Howard’s efforts to delegitimise the union movement which, in his eyes, was in league with his Labor opponents.

This does much to explain the present governor’s ignorance of labour-market realities. Dr Philip Lowe bangs on unceasingly about wages, but excludes unions from the Reserve’s extensive consultations with business and even welfare groups. I don’t remember hearing that swearword “union” ever pass his lips.

There’s always been an academic economist on the board, but they’re in no position seriously to take on the establishment. The board rarely if ever votes on anything. Rather, the chairman-governor “sums up the feeling of the meeting”.

Note, the Reserve has worked this way for the four decades I’ve been watching it. But it does seem to have become more insular and, as the review charges, more subject to “groupthink”, under Lowe.

The inquiry heard from young ex-Reserve economists saying they’d been warned that expressing doubt about the house line would harm their promotion prospects. I’ve been hearing that lately, too.

It’s madness for the Reserve to recruit the cream of each year’s graduating economists, then tell ’em not to speak unless spoken to. And what a way to train the next governor but three.

So, bring an end to groupthink inside the Reserve? Of course. Get a more vigorous debate around the board table before deciding on rates? Sure.

But here’s the joke. While rightly criticising the Reserve for encouraging groupthink, the report is itself a giant case of groupthink. It accepts unquestioningly the conventional wisdom of recent decades that there’s really only one way you could possibly manage the economy through the ups and downs of the business cycle, and that’s by manipulating interest rates.

Any role for “fiscal policy” – changing taxes and government spending? Didn’t think of that but, no, not really. Just make sure it doesn’t get in the way of the central bank.

We’ve fiddled with interest rates so much we’ve got them down to zero. Should we stop? Gosh no. Just think of some way to keep going. The review accepts that the central banks’ misadventure into “unconventional monetary policy” – UMP – which it sanctifies as “additional monetary policy tools”, is now part of “best practice”.

Really? Competitive currency devaluations are the way to fix the global economy’s ills? Can you hear yourselves?

Apparently, slowing the growth in spending by directly punishing the small proportion of households young and foolish enough to load themselves up with mortgage debt is “best practice”.

No, it’s not. It’s just a sign that the review committee is so caught up by global groupthink that it has never thought there might be a better way.

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Starving the unemployed shames us all

I wouldn’t want to be Treasurer Jim Chalmers, as he puts the finishing touches to next week’s budget. Everywhere he looks he sees problems – problems that need solving by spending more taxpayers’ money. But the budget deficit must be kept low if we’re to get inflation down without even more rises in interest rates. Which raises what is, for any politician, a horrifying thought: perhaps we should be paying more tax, not less.

However, to any person with a shred of conscience, any belief in decent treatment of the less-fortunate, any care about maintaining Australia’s pride in being the land of the fair go, one issue towers above all others: our shameful treatment of the unemployed.

For years, we’ve gone on allowing the unemployment benefit – these days called the JobSeeker payment – to fall further and further below what the rest of us get, and further below the poverty line.

Get that? Since the mid-1990s, we’ve had – not as an unfortunate oversight, but as a conscious choice – a policy of starving the unemployed. Keeping them on a payment so low that, by the time they’ve paid rent and other inescapable costs, they often have to skip meals.

Late last year, the independent senator for the ACT, David Pocock, forced the Albanese government to introduce the biggest budget reform in ages. It had to set up a committee of experts to review the adequacy of welfare benefits, which would report its findings to the government every year, no less than two weeks before the annual budget.

The government released the Economic Inclusion Advisory Committee’s first report about two weeks ago. It made 37 recommendations, but stressed that one recommendation trumped all the others: that the government commit to a “substantial increase” in the base rate of the JobSeeker payment.

Specifically, it wanted the JobSeeker payment raised from 70 per cent of the age pension rate to 90 per cent.

Some unemployed people told their stories to the committee. “You can buy a tray of sausages and bag them up in the freezer for the fortnight,” one person said. “But yeah, you rarely get to have any meat. Fruit and vegetables are absolutely shocking. You can’t afford to eat healthily, that’s for sure. So, they’re killing us, basically.”

Another said, “I needed to manage my budget strictly. This included going for cheaper items in the supermarket, having smaller meals (i.e. an orange for lunch, soup at dinner time), only filling up petrol when I really needed to, using public transport or walking where I could to save on the cost of fuel, managing health appointments around how much money I had left in the bank that week.”

Think of it. Every year, just before the budget, this committee will pop up to remind us what a mean-spirited people we are, and how much worse it’s become since last year – until we do something to get it off our conscience.

But here’s what sticks in my gullet: when the government released the committee’s report, its spin doctors did all they could to play down the report and stress the absurd notion that the government could possibly afford to do anything about it when times were so tough.

They made 37 recommendations, which would cost $34 billion. Are you kidding? Where could we find that kind of money? And what about the report of the Women’s Economic Equality Taskforce (which the government just happened to release at the same time) and all its expensive recommendations?

Get real. We can’t do everything. So, what’s it to be – the unemployed or the women? (Never mind that half the people on JobSeeker are female, including the sole parents who got pushed off the parenting payment onto the dole.) And, some helpful journos have relayed, just between you and me, there’s no votes in increasing unemployment benefits.

I fear that’s true. It may even cost a few votes. There’s a lot of “downward envy” among Labor’s working-class voters. And both sides of politics are well aware of the electoral benefits of pandering to the worst side of the Australian character – resentment of boat people and supposed dole bludgers.

It’s easy to exaggerate the cost of raising the dole. As former Treasury secretary Dr Ken Henry points out, the annual cost of the committee’s proposal is $6 billion, less than 1 per cent of total government spending. “No more than an adjustment at the margin,” he says.

Among rich countries, we have the third-lowest unemployment benefits. If, as usual, you set the poverty line at half the median disposable income, the single JobSeeker payment has fallen from 14 per cent below the poverty line in 2000 to 68 per cent below in 2022.

Is that a record we’re happy to live with? Is Anthony Albanese, who’s always telling us how hard he and his pensioner mother did it, willing to let the jobless continue to suffer because there are no votes in doing the right thing? Is that all modern Labor stands for?

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