My latest in The Guardian

henever I mention concepts such as gross domestic product (GDP), there’s a high probability that arguments about the merits of “growth” and “degrowth” will erupt. Almost invariably, these arguments are stuck in a conceptual framework that’s 50 years out of date, or even more.

The national accounting system, of which GDP is a central part, was developed in the 1930s. It was designed to measure the working of the industrial economy that had emerged in the 19th century and remained the dominant form of economic activity until the late 20th century.

The industrial economy could be conceptually understood in terms of three sectors. Primary industries, such as agriculture and mining, produced raw materials. Secondary industry (manufacturing, broadly defined) turned raw materials into useful products. Tertiary industry (services such as wholesale and retail trade) took the products from the factory to the consumer. Other services, such as accounting, finance and law, greased the wheels of the entire process. Activities such as education and health, which didn’t really fit the model, were thought of as reproducing and taking care of the labour force needed to keep the economy going. Finally, the waste products of the system were burned or dumped.

In the industrial economy, growth involved an increasing number of workers, each of whom produced more of everything: more primary products, turned into more manufactured goods, sold in bigger and better shops, generating more and more waste. Growth was achieved primarily by equipping workers with more capital, owned by employers (hence, the term “capitalism” to describe this economy). More sophisticated analyses took account of technological progress and of “human capital”, that is, the skills acquired by workers through education and training.

By the middle of the 20th century it became evident that this process couldn’t continue indefinitely. As was regularly observed, infinite growth in the output of physical goods is impossible on a finite planet.

As it turned out, however, the mid-20th century marked the beginning of the end of the industrial economy. The services or “tertiary” sector accounted for half of US employment by 1950 and that share has increased steadily to about 80% today. Within the service sector, ever fewer workers are engaged in the “tertiary” activities of distributing the output of farms and factories, through retail, wholesale and transport. Many more work either in directly provided human services, such as health care and hospitality. But the truly spectacular growth has been in “office jobs” relating in one way or another to information.

The industrial model, in which all stages of the production process expand in a proportional fashion, is no longer relevant – at least in rich countries. Output of physical goods, and particularly the characteristic products of the 20th-century industrial economy (cars, household appliances and so on), has largely stabilised. For example, the number of motor vehicles sold in the US has fluctuated around the 15m a year mark since 1980, even though the US population has grown.

Meanwhile, the growth in the production and dissemination of information has been so rapid as to defy traditional methods of measurement and any kind of intuition about growth. The volume of information we generate (whether useful or trivial) has grown at about 60% per year since the advent of the electronic computer. To give some intuition that means that every millisecond we collectively generate as much information as we did in an entire year in the 1970s. A concept of “growth” that averages such unimaginable rates of expansion with the nearly stationary output of cars, fridges and so on is meaningless.

And if “growth” is meaningless, so is “degrowth”. There’s no technological or ecological reason why we can’t have more and more services, from health and education to TikTok videos. And, if we can continue to improve the technology, there’s no real limit to our supply of solar and wind energy. What we need to reduce is the “throughput” of the residual industrial economy, beginning with the extraction of resources and ending with the dumping of waste. It’s here that ideas like that of the “circular economy” remain relevant.

In summary, neither “growth” nor “degrowth” makes sense as a long-term objective for economic policy. That doesn’t mean that GDP is useless as a statistical measure. If GDP drops sharply from one year to the next, it’s usually not because a society has become less concerned with material goods and marketed services. Rather, sharp reductions in GDP, such as those during the global financial crisis and the early 1990s “recession we had to have”, usually arise from external shocks or economic mismanagement. GDP statistics provide economic policymakers with valuable information about the short-run state of the economy.

In the long run, however, GDP is not a useful measure. And in an economy subject to the wildly divergent trends we now observe, there is little value in looking for a single number (such as a statistical measure of happiness) that will replace it. We can and should seek better and richer lives, while reducing and repairing the harm that the industrial economy has done to our natural environment and, most notably, to the global climate.

From The Conversation

Opposition Leader Peter Dutton’s plan to build seven nuclear power plants in Australia has attracted plenty of critical attention. But there’s a striking feature which has received relatively little discussion or criticism: the nuclear plants would be publicly owned and operated, similar to the National Broadband Network (NBN).

On the contrary, it received enthusiastic endorsement from free-market advocates such as The Australian’s Judith Sloan, who observed: “It’s how the French nuclear plants were first constructed.” It is also the way Australia built its biggest single piece of energy infrastructure, the Snowy Mountains Scheme.

But there’s a fundamental problem here. Over the last three or four decades the federal public service has been hollowed out in the name of “new public management”. This became very clear during the COVID pandemic, when state governments – who have preserved their ability to act far better – ran most of the response. There is a very real question over whether we have the governmental capacity to achieve net zero.

From NBN to National Nuclear Network?

Dutton’s acknowledgement of the publicly owned NBN as a model worth using is a welcome advance on the view of Malcolm Turnbull, one of his predecessors as Liberal leader.

A decade ago, then-prime minister Turnbull embarked on a disastrous “mixed mode” redesign of the NBN. This reflected his belief – expressed publicly after leaving office – that a publicly owned broadband network should never have existed.

Labor is in no position to oppose Dutton’s calls for public ownership. State Labor governments in Victoria and New South Wales have re-established publicly owned electricity enterprises, while South Australia’s Labor government has floated the same idea.

Whatever technological choices we make, it is clear our days of relying on the private sector to provide vital infrastructure are coming to an end. The question now is whether the public sector can recover to take the lead.

The National Energy Market, for instance, was meant to promote competition and drive electricity prices down. It has failed to do so, resulting in a string of government interventions, some more successful than others.

Arguably the biggest failed intervention was the now-defunct Energy Security Board, a politically driven response to South Australia’s statewide blackout in 2016.

The board sought to patch up the National Energy Market with a capacity market, which was immediately dubbed “CoalKeeper” due to incentives for old coal plants to keep going, as well as new grid access charges, promptly dubbed “Solar Stopper” due to discouraging new investment in solar. Energy experts did not favour this approach.

What proved more successful as a response to South Australia’s big blackout was the decision by the state government to fund the Horndale big battery, which was, when built in 2017, the world’s largest utility-scale battery storage.

Should new power be private or publicly owned?

Both major parties are flagging more intervention. The federal government has stopped waiting for markets to provide clean energy in favour of seeking tenders for new renewables through a capacity investment scheme. The scheme received 40 gigawatts worth of bids from renewable developers, far beyond the goal of 6GW.

This shift has come in response to developments bogging down, hampered by inadequate regulation and local opposition driven by a combination of genuine concerns about environmental impacts and culture-war driven science denialism.

Labor’s current renewables-led strategy requires 10,000 kilometres of new publicly built transmission lines, to meet our net zero goals. We’d need even more transmission if we are to become a major exporter of clean energy, either as electricity or in products such as green hydrogen and ammonia.

On the Coalition side, no private firm is likely to accept the risks involved in creating a nuclear power industry from scratch. Government would have to lead.

As Nationals leader David Littleproud has now acknowledged in relation to finding sites for nuclear plants, the national need for clean energy is too important to allow “not in my backyard” opponents – some with only a tenuous connection to the area in question – to slow or stop government plans.

If government is to lead, it must have the capacity

What Dutton’s nuclear gambit shows us is that, surprisingly, Australia’s two major political parties are in strong alignment on the need to rebuild state capacity.

Whether it’s Labor working to get transmission lines and offshore wind up and running or the Coalition working to create a nuclear industry from scratch, it will take a strong government with the capacity to articulate a plan, and the legal, financial and human resources to make it a reality.

All of these requirements were met when we constructed the Snowy Mountains Scheme, a decades-long federal government initiative undertaken in cooperation with Victoria and NSW.

Are they still in place? Not yet. Government capacity to act has been eroded over decades of neoliberalism. Particularly at the national level, public service expertise has been hollowed out and replaced by reliance on private consulting firms.

To rebuild the federal government’s capacity to act will require recreating the public service as a career which attracts the best and brightest graduates – many of whom currently end up in the financial sector.

The private sector still plays a central role in the construction of infrastructure, as was the case with the Snowy Scheme. But it’s up to governments to take the lead in finance and planning.

This poses particular challenges for the Liberal Party, which has long favoured the interests of businesses small and large, and has been historically opposed to public ownership. But from the late 1990s until relatively recently, Labor was also keen on privatisation.

The French Prime Minister Georges Clemenceau once observed that “war is too important to be left to generals”. As we are discovering to our cost, infrastructure investment is similarly too important to be left to private investors.

From The Guardian

The release of recent data suggesting that inflation appears to be stuck at 4%, above the Reserve Bank of Australia’s target range of 2% to 3%, has raised plenty of concern among economic and political commentators. These commentators might be surprised to learn that many, perhaps most, macroeconomists who have looked at the question have concluded that a 4% inflation rate would be the ideal target, at least providing that wages and other incomes kept pace.

The underlying reasoning is simple. Interest rates are the main tool of monetary policy. In a deep recession such as that following the global financial crisis, or in an emergency such as that created by the Covid-19 pandemic, it is desirable that the interest rate should be well below the rate of inflation. That is, the real interest rate, adjusted for inflation, should be negative.

But if the rate of inflation is too low, this policy is limited by the fact that interest rates can’t go below zero. Well, not much below – the European Central Bank cut its policy rate to -0.5% for several years, relying on the fact that banks could take a cut in their margins, while still charging positive interest rates to borrowers.

Once the zero lower bound for interest rates is reached, central banks are forced to rely on direct purchases of bonds and other securities. This policy, variously referred to as “quantitative easing”, “open market operations” or, less politely, “printing money” worked to prevent economic collapse, but created plenty of problems.

The majority of US economists in a 2017 survey agreed that a higher inflation target would enhance the ability of central banks to stimulate the economy during a recession. By contrast, there is no consensus on whether a 4% inflation rate would have any significant effect on the economic welfare of households.

If a low inflation target is such a dubious idea, why was it adopted in the first place? The answer, surprisingly enough, comes from New Zealand. The first central bank to adopt an inflation target was the Reserve Bank of New Zealand in 1989. The policy was introduced by the then Reserve Bank governor, Don Brash, later to reinvent himself as a rightwing (and then far-right) politician. Brash was backed by then finance minister, Roger Douglas, whose political career followed a similar trajectory.

A range of 0% to 2% was picked, without any theoretical basis, as the lowest that could plausibly be pursued. As Douglas said later, “I just announced it was gonna be 2%, and it sort of stuck.” While the NZ central bank was the first to adopt a 2% inflation target, others were quick to follow. The most important shift was by the US Federal Reserve, which also chose a 2% target, while initially avoiding a public commitment.

At the time, New Zealand was seen as being a star performer in economic reform, likely to overtake Australia in a matter of years. Even among those who did not share in the enthusiasm, it seemed reasonable to assume that, as it had done for most of the 20th century, New Zealand would maintain living standards similar to those in Australia.

In reality, though, New Zealand’s economic performance has been miserable. Income per person is below the Australian level. Net emigration to Australia (currently running at around 20,000 per year) reflects the higher wages and living standards available here.

While many explanations have been offered for New Zealand’s relative decline, the simplest is that of repeated failures in macroeconomic management. New Zealand has experienced a string of recessions since the adoption of inflation targeting, mostly reflecting excessively rigid application of tight monetary policy. Contrary to the idea of a recession as a temporary disruption, these recessions (particularly that of the early 1990s and the global financial crisis) seem to have shifted the country onto a permanently lower growth path.

Elsewhere, inflation targeting worked reasonably well until the GFC. But in the long period of depressed activity that followed, central bank interest rates were stuck at or near zero. Despite this failure, central banks retained the power and prestige they had attained in the early days of inflation targeting. Unsurprisingly, they have been highly resistant to any change to inflation targets, even though they have no convincing defence of the status quo. Instead, they rely on the fact that any change would be bad for faith in the central banks.

The recent review of the RBA spells this out. After conceding the strength of arguments for a higher inflation target, the review panel concluded: “Regardless of the merits of higher inflation in general, the Review does not recommend increasing the inflation target during the present period of high inflation. To do so could undermine the credibility of the RBA in responding to future periods of above-target inflation.”

Of course, once we have ground our way back down to the target, the idea of raising it will be dismissed; it would be throwing away costly gains.

So, if you are struggling with higher interest rates or worried about higher unemployment, remember that this is the price we have to pay to restore the “credibility” of the Reserve Bank.

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Referring back to this 2002 post defining “neoliberalism”, I find the claim that the “The (UK) Conservative party is hovering on the edge of extinction”. That wasn’t one of my more accurate assessments, and I’m bearing it in mind when I look at suggestions that the party is now “facing a defeat so dramatic it may not survive.” (that’s the headline, the actual suggestion is that the future may be one of “long periods of Labour with occasional periods of Conservative governments”

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Brad DeLong (in a recent post summarising a joint podcast with Noah Smith) walks back his previous suggestion that it was time for neoliberals, among whom he had numbered himself, to pass the baton to “the Left”.

The political basis for this is that 20 or so Senate Republicans have been willing to pass legislation from time to time, rather than shutting down the government altogether. I don’t find this compelling, but I also don’t want to debate the issue.

Rather, I’m interested in the following remark, which crystallized a bunch of thoughts I’ve been having for some time

”How has the left been doing with its baton? Not well at all, for anyone who defines “THE LEFT” to consist of former Bernie staffers who regard Elizabeth Warren as a neoliberal sellout.”

This is a classic, indeed brazen, motte-and-bailey1, in which the hard-to-defend bailey “the Left of the Democratic party (of which Elizabeth Warren is a prominent member) is doing badly” is replaced by the motte “THE LEFT (as represented, in this case, by disgruntled former Bernie staffers) is doing badly”.

The left and THE LEFT: from ChatGPT prompt, “draw an image with two panels, one peaceful with symbols of feminism and environmentalism and the other dynamic and representing the revolutionary left”

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The Conversation asked economists about the budget. I thought the questions poorly framed.

Q: What grade would you give the budget, given Chalmers’ stated objective of “fighting inflation in the near term and then growth in the medium term”? A, B, C, D, E or F

My answer: An exclusive, or even primary, focus on a rapid return to an arbitrary inflation target represents a misconception of the role of fiscal policy.

I decline to offer a rating on this basis.

Considered more generally, I would give the budget a grade of C.

It is essentially a continuation of the policies of the previous Coalition government

Q: Is the budget likely to achieve its aim of getting inflation back within the RBA target band by the end of this year and back to 2.75% by mid next year?

My answer: Again, both the RBA and the government are acting in a way that is inconsistent with the RBA’s official objectives and with the government’s stated objective of sustainable full employment.

Nothing in our economic situation justifies the priority that is being placed on a rapid return to the RBA target range.

I decline to offer a rating

https://theconversation.com/top-economists-give-budget-modest-rating-and-doubt-inflation-will-fall-as-planned-230670

My Budget response from The Conversation

This week’s budget was Treasurer Jim Chalmers’ third and – for practical purposes – final for the current parliamentary term.

Even if the 2025 election is delayed long enough to give Labor another budget, that speech would represent more of an election manifesto than any deliverable legislation.

We are therefore now in a position to assess the Albanese government’s record on public spending and taxation.

Most strikingly, the Albanese government’s electoral strategy has constrained it to do little more than tweak the policy settings it inherited from the previous government, and adopt them as its own.

There’s nothing new about opposition parties campaigning on a “small target” strategy. Howard, Rudd and Abbott all did the same. But on attaining office, those prime ministers all became notably bolder.

In stark contrast, the Albanese government appears to have acted less ambitiously in office than it did when seeking election.

Constrained on both income and spending

This softness is likely due in part to the size of the commitments Labor made to eliminate any policy differences that could have cost the party votes in the 2022 election.

On the revenue side, Albanese rejected all the revenue-enhancing measures Labor had fruitlessly taken to the 2019 election.

What remained were the massively expensive Stage 3 tax cuts, which ensured the ratio of tax revenue to the size of the economy would shrink over the government’s term in office. This was only exacerbated by a decline in export earnings for coal and iron ore.

The restructuring of the Stage 3 tax cuts – hastily announced in the lead-up to the Dunkley by-election – did make them much less regressive.

But the modified version will only partially offset the the expiry of the low and middle income earners tax offset, and by my calculations will still deliver big gains to the top 40% of earners. More relevantly, at least in the budget context, the cuts’ cost in terms of tax revenue was unchanged.

The government is also constrained on the expenditure side. Albanese’s enthusiastic embrace of the AUKUS agreement commitment has loaded the budget with hundreds of billions of dollars in future commitments, with several billion already allocated in the current budget.

The failure of successive governments to find new sources of funding for the National Disability Insurance Scheme has only added to these difficulties.

Yet despite all these constraints, the government has been unable to resist a few (it hopes) vote-grabbing extravagances. Perhaps the most lavish was the decision to provide federal funding for a new football stadium in Hobart.

More recently, the government announced it would spend a billion dollars to chase the dream of a quantum computer, one of those revolutionary technologies that has been “just over the horizon” for decades.

And of course, the headline item in the current budget, a once-off $300 discount on every household’s energy bills.

Labor doesn’t look like Labor anymore

Welfare payments again missed out on a boost in this year’s budget. James Ross/AAP

The combination of these constraints with an imperative to deliver budget surpluses means little – if anything – has been put aside to pursue the traditional goals of a Labor government.

Instead, we’ve seen largely symbolic measures puffed up to appear impressive. Most of these are better viewed as adjustments to keep policy set by the previous government on course.

An automatic inflation adjustment for welfare benefits was touted by the prime minister as “the biggest increase to the pension in 30 years”.

But meanwhile, the government has steadfastly resisted pressure to raise Jobseeker benefits to a liveable level, reluctantly squeezing out an extra $20 a week last year (Scott Morrison gave $50).

The Housing Australia Future Fund is presented as a $10 billion program to deliver over 30,000 houses. But it will be delivered as a modest subsidy of just $500 million annually, enough to build perhaps 2,000 modest homes per year. The program has since been overtaken by more extensive action at the state level.

For university students, the government has materially changed the HECS indexation formula. But it has left in place the Job Ready Graduates fee structure, a poorly thought out increase in the cost of degrees in the humanities and other subjects pushed out in the dying days of the Morrison government by Education Minister Dan Tehan.

On top of this, the underfunding of public schools has if anything become worse, with the ambitions of the Gonski program indefinitely deferred.

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Read more: Funding might change, but Job-ready Graduates stays for now. What does the budget fine print say about higher education?

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On health, the government has taken measures to arrest the alarming fall in bulk billing which began under the Morrison government. But it’s yet to return rates to the levels present when it took office.

Rates of bulk billing have steadied, but remain at worrying lows. Dave Hunt/AAP

More ambitious proposals – like free cancer treatment and dental care for pensioners – were abandoned after the 2019 election, and have not resurfaced.

No guarantee of a second term

The “three-term” theory pushed by the Albanese government’s supporters was that a solid performance in the first term of office would lay the groundwork for more transformative policies in the (assumed guaranteed) second and third terms.

Leaving aside the fact that a second term no longer appears certain, there seems to be no evidence this is actually happening.

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dennis hutchMay 18John, for me Albanese has been a bitter disappointment. Prior to his election I had no real opinion of him; I didn’t know him, he appeared to be a reasonable person. But now, nothing but disgust, his only ambition has been to get re-elected.I get that people thought Shorten lacked charisma, but I’ve always thought it was vastly overrated. I think Australia missed out when he lost, and he lost because of our collective greed.

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Paul NortonMay 18I get the strong impression that the Albanese Government has made the strategic calculation that it cannot win a public political argument with the Coalition over any except a small set of issues (and then only if its own position is only incrementally different), and so it has decided to refrain from doing anything that would require or bring on such an argument.

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It’s International Workers Day, still celebrated as the May Day public holiday here in Queensland, at least when the Labor party is in office. So, it’s a good day for me to set out some tentative thoughts on work and its future.

Via Matt McManus, I found this quote from Marx ‘Fragment on Machines”.

The hand tool makes the worker independent — posits him as proprietor. Machinery — as fixed capital -posits him as dependent, posits him as appropriated

Reading this, it struck me that, whereas mainframe computers were archetypal examples of impersonal and alienating machines, personal computers are, or can be, regarded as extensions of their users, that is, as tools. Employers have long struggled to exert control over office computers and the workers who use them, making them extensions of the machine that is corporate IT. But these efforts have always been resisted, and have broken down, to a large extent, with the shift to remote work. My intuition, following Marx, is that this development presages a bigger shift in the relationship between between workers and bosses.

As far as neoclassical economics in the strict sense is concerned, it makes no real difference whether workers work on machines owned by their employers or using their own tools. In the first case, the wage is a simple payment for labour, and all the surplus from the enterprise goes as capital income to the employer. In the second case, the workers’ wage will include a ‘rental price’ for the use of tools, along with the ordinary labour wage. All that matters is that each factor of production should earn its marginal product.

Economists, including those classed as ‘mainstream’, have long recognised that the simple neoclassical model is inadequate. Beginning with a classic paper by Chicago economist and Nobel award winner Ronald Coase, it has been recognised that if the neoclassical model was a complete description, there would be no reason for firms, with their internal command structures, to exist. There is no a huge literature on transactions costs, principal-agent relationships and other ways of understanding the relationship between workers and bosses.

But as far as I am aware, the machine-tool distinction hasn’t been addressed in this literature, at least not explicitly. For bosses, a central feature of the machine, exemplified by the Taylorist time-and-motion expert, is the capacity for detailed control over the work of those employed to tend it. With a skilled worker using their own tools, such detailed control isn’t possible. In simple forms of production, where output can be measured easily, control over work can be replaced with production quotas or piecework payments. But in with collective products and where quality is hard to measure, such straightforward methods of control are no longer feasible. Workers can demand, and receive, more autonomy and require more motivation than simple monetary rewards and penalties.

In the case of computers, bosses have done their best to fight back with various forms of spyware and remote control. But this has turned out to be costly and counterproductive. As far as I can tell, most of these attempt have been abandoned. Similarly, despite repeated ‘back to the office’ announcements, backed up by dire threats, working arrangement seem to have reached an equilibrium of 2-3 days a week as the median, with the weekend increasingly starting early on Friday afternoon, rather than at the traditional 5pm.

The direct effects of these changes are confined to those workers (around 50 per cent of the total) for whom computers are the central tool. But when these developments coincide with a period of low unemployment, and with the new opportunities for organization offered by an era of universal Internet access, there are signs of a broader shift in the balance of workplace power, including a resurgence in support for unions.

Anzac Day (the anniversary of the disastrous Gallipoli landings in 1915) is always a sad day, but even more so this year, with the horrors unfolding before us in Gaza.

The carve-up of the Ottoman Empire by the British and French, of which the Gallipoli campaign was part is the direct cause of the current catastrophe. As well as grabbing colonial possessions for themselves, the Allies made promises to Jews (seeking a homeland) and Arabs (seeking independence from Turkey) which could not both be kept. The resulting conflict has never ended.

The war in Ukraine is also a consequence of the disaster that was rightly called the Great War, and of which the 1939-45 War and the Cold War were continuations. But that’s enough sadness for one day.