Looking at the string of appalling statements from the rightwing commentariat in the last week or so, I have come to the conclusion that they must be involved in a private contest to “trigger the libs”, in the parlance of the Trumpist right, by making statements that will provoke social media outrage to be used either for mockery or claims of persecution as the occasion demands.
Chris Uhlmann’s entry in the competition, exposing firefighter Paul Parker as a One Nation voter, was explicitly designed to do this. It fell flat, but Uhlmann announced victory anyway.
His competitors seem to have drawn the lesson that lefties aren’t as easily triggered as they thought. To win the competition, they needed to say something that would appal any decent person, then denounce anyone who criticises them as a leftie.
Rather than nominate a single winner, I’ll give every player a prize for their success in triggering me as a typical leftie
- Ickiest: Andrew Bolt (tag-teaming with Gerard Henderson)
- Most bizarre: Miranda Devine, picking on 9 year old Quaden Bayles
- Most appalling: Bettina Arndt (not even going to link)
- Dishonourable mention: Mark Latham (ditto)
As far as I can tell, we haven’t yet heard from Joe Hildebrand and Prue McSween, who would normally be keen competitors.
The latest kerfuffle over volunteer firefighter Paul Parker manages to encapsulate, in a single vignette, the way the Australian media handles politics. It’s not an edifying story. After shooting to fame with an expletive tirade against Prime Minister Morrison at the height of the bushfire catastrophe, Parker attained the status of a minor folk hero. That was that, until he appeared on Channel Ten’s The Project to say that he had been “sacked” for his actions. The Rural Fire Service (which had earlier suggested Parker had been “stood down due to exhaustion”) issued a not-quite denial, which was eagerly embraced by the PM.
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There are lots of things going wrong with Australian government, resulting, for example in its failure to deal with climate change. One of these things is the membership of our political class. The problems are widespread but I’ll start with the National Party. The name itself is a problem, dating back to the brief delusion, encapsulated by the Joh for Canberra campaign in the 1980s, that the Country Party (as it then was) could become the dominant rightwing party. To the extent this idea had any substance, it was based on the success of various Country Party spivs in securing seats in the Gold and Sunshine Coasts.
What we now have is the process in reverse – a string of upper class spivs posing as salt of the earth bushies, and being elected to rural seats. To take just a few examples:
Barnaby Joyce: an accountant, educated at Riverview
David Littleproud: a hereditary politician and agribusiness banker
Matt Canavan: born on the Gold Coast, UQ education, previously an executive at KPMG and an economist at the Productivity Commission
Bridget McKenzie: allegedly Bendigo-based Minister for Decentralisation, primary residence in the Melbourne suburb of Elwood
The current beleaguered leader, Michael McCormack will probably turn out to be the last National leader who could claim any real association with the land
Coming up: The Socialist Left
Back again with another Monday Message Board.
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ABC Fact Check has a piece looking at a claim by the Young Greens that “making lattes provides more Australian jobs than the entire coal industry.” The detail of the tweet included the claim that there were 86000 barista jobs compared to 52000 in the coal mining industry
The Fact Check Unit observed that the quoted firgure is for total employment in the cafe industry, not just barista. By comparing an estimate of the number of baristas to total employment in coal mining, the Fact Check Unit concludes that the claim is Incorrect.
There is an apples and oranges problem here. There are two reasonable ways to do this comparison
(a) Treat “barista” as shorthand for “someone who works in a coffee shop”. Then compare employment in the coffee shop sector, including “permanent, part-time, temporary and casual employees, working proprietors, partners, managers and executives within the industry” with employment in the coal mining sector, including managerial, professional and clerical staff, general trades workers and others.
(b) Define “baristas” to refer to the occupation of making coffee, and “coal miners” to refer to the occupation of “Drillers, Miners and Shot Firers”, that is, people whose occupation is extracting coal from the ground. Based on the proportion for mining as a whole, the latter is about 20 per cent of total employment in the mining industry.
Either approach, applied consistently, would imply that there are more baristas than coal miners. The fact check uses the first, broader definition for miners and the second narrower one for baristas. This is an apples and oranges comparison, and should be corrected.
That’s how a Labor partisan on Twitter described my criticism in Independent Australia of Labor’s strategy of avoiding any policy difference with the Morrison government, and shutting down all discussion of the climate catastrophe until they get around to announcing a policy for the 2022 election. The one exception I noted (and the one that incited this response) was support for the coal industry. As I noted
Rather than offer a climate policy in response to the catastrophic bushfires of the last summer, Labor took the view that ‘the immediate focus should be on firefighters battling the blazes, people at risk and those grieving lost loved ones’. While scoring points on scandals like the sports rorts and cynically exploiting of divisions within the Government, Labor has put forward hardly a word of criticism of the Morrison Government’s policy position, let alone any alternative.
There have, however, been a couple of exceptions to this pattern of near-invisibility. First, Labor has made it clear that coal mining is here to stay and that the future of coal-fired power will be left to “the market”. Second, while displaying intense solicitude for those voters who switched their support to Pauline Hanson’s One Nation, Labor has engaged in co-ordinated and ferocious attacks on the Greens.
My article mainly focuses on the point that Labor can’t assume that it will have a reliable majority in Parliament, and therefore shouldn’t engage in partisan warfare with Greens and independents with whom deals will need to be made in future. But I’d like to discuss the whole “wait until 2022” thing a bit more.
No one expects an Opposition party to have a detailed election program at all times, and it’s unsurprising that Labor would want to reconsider some issues in the light of the 2019 loss. But I’ve never seen anything like the argument coming out of the Labor party that, since they aren’t in government, they shouldn’t be expected to have policies on anything, and shouldn’t vote against regressive and disastrous government policies. Even more striking is the corollary that the only decent thing to do about the climate disaster is to sit quietly and then vote for whatever policy Labor comes up with in two years time.
Maybe I was spoiled by several years in which that notoriously post materialist liberal enviro elitist, Bill Shorten, actually proposed policy, but I can’t remember any Opposition, from either side of politics, being as lame as this one. It’s fortunate, perhaps, the Morrison government is so incoherent and incompetent that it effectively functions as its own opposition.
Here’s a review of Economics in Two Lessons, by Nikki Dumbrell in the Australian Journal of Agricultural and Resource Economics. It’s the first in an academic journal, and captures all the main points nicely.
Free market economics (or ‘One Lesson Economics’, Hazlitt 1946) refers to the idea that markets, left alone with very minimal intervention, will achieve equilibrium and as such allocate resources to their most valued use. This idea is persistent. Indeed, famous schools of economic thought (and individuals’ careers) are built on this idea. Economics in Two Lessons, by Professor John Quiggin (Distinguished Fellow of the Australasian Agricultural and Resource Economics Society) recognises the importance of One Lesson economics but challenges the completeness of this way of thinking. He draws readers’ attention to where and how markets might be imperfect or might not exist and asks readers to consider how One Lesson economics might perform in these scenarios. The short answer is ‘poorly‘.
To tease out the shortfall of One Lesson economics and the importance of Two Lesson economics, the central theme of the book is opportunity costs. ‘The opportunity cost of anything of value is what you have to give up in order to get it‘ (p.3). The book is divided into two parts: Lesson One and Lesson Two. Each part includes an introduction to the lesson and subsequent chapters with examples. Quiggin summarises Lesson One as ‘market prices reflect and determine opportunity costs faced by consumers and producers’ (p.7). Lesson Two follows and broadens the scope from consumers and producers to society, ‘market prices don’t reflect all the opportunity costs we face as a society’ (p.8). In addition, Lesson Two extends the definition of opportunity costs to say that the opportunity cost of something of value (to you) includes not only what you must give up, but what others must give up as well.
The 70 years between the publication of Hazlitt’s (1946) book and this book has provided a number of real‐world examples for Quiggin to debate the value of One Lesson and Two Lesson economics in a critical analysis of market mechanisms and economic policy. For example, Quiggin draws on the Great Moderation, the Global Financial Crisis, increasing inequality, episodes of mass unemployment (for which most examples are accompanied by empirical evidence from the United States), and multiple forms of pollution such as chlorofluorocarbons linked to ozone depletion and climate change. The book balances this evidence of market failures with history of economic thought to deliver a well‐rounded understanding of the key differences between Lesson One and Lesson Two. It is important to note that the above‐listed examples relate to both microeconomic and macroeconomic issues. Quiggin points out that ‘in standard economics courses, analysis of opportunity costs, and market failure is typically confined to courses on microeconomics. This is a mistake. Lesson Two tells us that market prices don’t reflect all the opportunity costs we face as a society’ (p.152). Lesson Two also emphasises the importance of the opportunity costs of government choices, not just consumer and producer choices.
While opportunity costs are a foundation concept of economics, and an important instrument for Quiggin to illustrate how and why free markets can both succeed and fail, he also shows that it remains a concept difficult to grasp for many economists. For example, a survey of 200 delegates at the 2005 American Economic Association Annual Meeting (Ferraro and Taylor, 2005), drawn on by Quiggin, showed that only 22 per cent were able to correctly identify the opportunity cost of a decision in a hypothetical scenario. The clarity with which Quiggin writes on opportunity costs appears timely.
Another important contribution of this book is to remind readers that markets operate in a social environment. For example, property rights (that form the basis of trade in a market) are a social construct. Therefore, society and governments (not just consumers and producers) are intrinsically involved in the establishment and operation of markets. To forget or ignore this, as is often done by advocates of the free market, is detrimental.
This book has something to offer all new and long‐time students and practitioners of economics. Firstly, Quiggin’s ability to distil jargon and illustrate what can be complex concepts with real‐world examples makes this book accessible and thought‐provoking for all, regardless of any prior economic experience. Secondly, Quiggin recommends much relevant (often seminal) further reading for anyone who wishes to use this book as a launching pad to further discovery. Thirdly, as the earlier example from the 2005 American Economic Association Meeting indicated, many in the profession could use the clarity of economic thought that Quiggin offers. Ultimately, the book provides a framework to think about: (i) the challenges that arise when markets are missing or imperfect; (ii) the role for both market forces and government policy in response to economic problems; and (iii) the consequences (positive and negative) of different responses to economic problems. As we continue to face numerous complex economic problems, I hope to see this book and the ideas within it attract much attention.