Secular Litany by M. K. Joseph

I was invited to write about a favourite poem by students from Auckland Girls Grammar. It was to be part of a collection “Dear to Me” published in July 2007 by Random House, the royalties going to Amnesty International (New Zealand). I wrote two essays – to give the students a choice. They chose this one. The other one was “Ozymandias” by P.B. Shelly.

Keywords: Education; Literature and Culture;

A copy of ‘Secular Litany’ by M. K. (Michael Kennedy) Joseph is on the notice board above my desk as I write. It was put there, many years ago, because of the couplet

That we may avoid distinction and exception
Worship the mean, cultivate the mediocre

especially as a warning against cultivating mediocrity. Not everyone can be top of the class, but no one need be mediocre, which my thesaurus couples with ‘banal’, ‘indifferent’, ‘pedestrian’, ‘undistinguished’ and ‘uninspired’. It is about an attitude of mind, to try to excel within the limitations that God gave each of us.

But you cant have a poem sitting up there for as long as this one has been, without pondering on its broader theme. From today’s perspective – fifty years after it was written – it describes a strange world, for almost all the images are now obsolete. Sure there are still the All Blacks and excellence is often lower on the intellectual agenda than the safe, the conventional wisdom, and the politically correct (although less so in some areas such as the arts and sport). But hardly anything else in the poem applies today. What New Zealander would ask of Saint Holidays to defend us ‘from all foreigners with their unintelligible cooking’ and even from ‘barbecues’? Did we once reject ‘kermesse [fairs and bazaars] and carnival, high day and festival’?

I wonder how many people today would know that a litany is a series of religious petitions? When the poem was written, people attended church services and would be aware of the ritual. Joseph, a regular church goer, could see those practices were dying. Today they are dead for most of us – known only to a minority.

So it is a list poem. You could change some of the examples – even leave them out – and while the poetic structure might be damaged, the sentiment would not. I have wondered whether the list could be modernised – not by me – for I have none of Joseph’s poetic talent. Sure we have our icons, but often they are a fashion soon forgotten. There would be less collective agreement about what they were. We are a more diverse society.

Joseph is, of course, satirising the early post-war attitudes as dull, philistine and conforming, but not so unrecognisably that the poem was ignored. It was even anthologised. The adult world it describes is on the edge of my childhood memories, even if it seems a long way from the world in which I now live.

This led me to ponder about what are the cultural commonalities between the New Zealand of that time and today? I even wrote a Listener column (www.eastonbh.ac.nz/?p=627) about it to illustrate the problem of cultural continuities – of how one generation connects with another – and to ask what really is at the heart of being New Zealander.

It became more personal when I reflect on my father who died a few years back. Like everyone else, Dad was not entirely in the mainstream, but the world which he came from is the one Joseph portrays. So how do I connect to Dad – other than through filial affection, our shared experiences and love? Did we have the same culture? And will my children, when they get to my age, be posed with the same problem? Are they already?

Towards the end of his life Dad became quite grumpy about social changes which were transforming his world. ‘Secular Litany’ illustrates the extent of the transformation. And it must be happening to my world too – perhaps even faster. So when I face a new world, say, of mobile phones or hiphop, I think of the transformation in the past and try to tolerate the one going on today. After all, the poem is about a society unwilling to tolerate diversity. I hope we do better today.

For despite talking about a world of long ago and long gone, the poem has a lot of my life story in it. Which is why I still keep it up on my noticeboard, above me as I write.

SECULAR LITANY
by M. K. Joseph

That we may never lack two Sundays in a week
One to rest and one to play
That we may worship in the liturgical drone
Of the race-commentator and the radio raconteur
That we may avoid distinction and exception
Worship the mean, cultivate the mediocre
Live in a state house, raise forcibly-educated children
Receive family benefits, and standard wages and a pension
And rest in peace in a state crematorium
Saint A1lblack
Saint Monday Raceday
Saint Stabilisation
Pray for us.

From all foreigners, with their unintelligible cooking
From the vicious habit of public enjoyment
From kermesse and carnival, high day and festival
From pubs cafes bullfights and barbecues
From Virgil and vintages, fountains and fresco-painting
From afterthought and apperception
From tragedy, from comedy
And from the arrow of God
Saint Anniversaryday
Saint Arborday
Saint Labourday
Defend us.

When the bottles are empty
And the keg runs sour
And the cinema is shut and darkened
And the radio gone up in smoke
And the sports-ground flooded
When the tote goes broke
And the favourite scratches
And the brass bands are silenced
And the car is rusted by the roadside
Saint Fathersday
Saint Mothersday
Saint Happybirthday
Have mercy on us.

And for your petitioner, poor little Jim,
Saint Hocus
Saint Focus
Saint Bogus
And Saint Billy Bungstarter
Have mercy on him.

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The Exciting Science

A free thinker turned the eccentric into good economics. 

 

Listener: 28 July, 2007. 

 

Keywords: History of Ideas, Methodology & Philosophy; 

 

So many interesting and exciting things are happening in economics that topics for columns pile up. In the pile for a while has been Reinventing the Bazaar: A Natural History of Markets, by John McMillan, a Canterbury economics graduate. 

 

I can’t help contrasting John with Wolf Rosenberg, who was in the same university department. Wolf had gone through the 30s, when the capitalist economies broke down, and so was very sceptical of the efficacy of markets. McMillan, 35 years younger, and with no personal memory of the Great Depression, was a leader among the second generation of economists, who were comfortable with markets and explored and refined their theory. His book is a layperson’s guide to how markets work – and a damned good read. 

 

He was no ideologue. The Treasury asked him to review the flexibility of the New Zealand economy. Many commentators might have concluded – before they began – that too much regulation was limiting business responsiveness. Instead, McMillan looked at the evidence and concluded that “by and large, the labour market and the financial market are doing their job”. 

 

One chapter in his book concludes: “in market design, it is not a matter of market or the state; it is the market and the state”. He was, of course, a “more-market” man, preferring market solutions to bureaucratic ones. That is the point of his book – to show how markets can work if they are properly designed. 

 

In the debate on market liberalisation, McMillan was among those who argued for gradual transitions. The big-bang approach would only work if unrealistic assumptions about how markets work and grow, and how market participants act and interact, were met. It creates opportunities for all sorts of rent-seeking behaviour, and not necessarily those that encourage the growth of a stable market economy. New Zealanders who suffered from the blitzkrieg of the 80s and 90s would say only “hear, hear”. 

 

McMillan even designed a market, as one of the consultants who worked on how to allocate the US radio frequency spectrum. This involved a deep know-ledge of how auctions work. The best solutions can be counterintuitive. It turns out that the highest return to the seller is when the winning bidder pays the second highest bid rather than their own sealed bid. (Read why in the book. This arrangement encourages everybody to tender at the maximum value to them.) 

 

His career included an endowed chair at the Stanford Business School, scholarly books on game theory (on which much of the deep theory of economics is based), and senior editorship of the Journal of Economic Literature

 

McMillan was an enthusiast, turning the eccentric into good economics. The book has many tales of what he learnt in China. His interest in reggae led to a case study of how industrial clusters in Jamaica fostered innovation. His trips home coincided with Canterbury’s defence of the Ranfurly Shield. And then there was the Peruvian secret-police chief who bribed judges, politicians and the media, keeping meticulous records, requiring those he bribed to sign contracts detailing their obligations, demanding receipts for the bribes and videotaping the illicit negotiations. McMillan had a field day analysing the data. It turned out that politicians were cheaply bought: the big money went to television. 

 

I am caught between Rosenberg and McMillan. The weakness of the latter’s book is that it does not discuss the role of money. You may want something, but the supplier may not want what you have got. Money acts as a medium of exchange, which avoids the need for this double coincidence of wants. Without it, markets would not work nearly so efficiently. Yet, once money is introduced into an economy, there are the possibilities of inflation, business cycles and depressions. Which is why Wolf was always more cautious. 

 

I suggested to John that he add a chapter to the second edition of his book, detailing the role of money. Alas, there will not be one. He died of cancer this year at the age of 56. He made important contributions to economics, and he reminds us that it can be interesting and exciting – and accessible to lay-people. 

 

Brown Study

Can the British PM find a new way to be left? 

 

Listener: 14 July, 2007. 

 

Keywords: Political Economy & History; 

 

Although he was Britain’s Chancellor of the Exchequer (Finance Minister) for a decade, and had a free hand with the economy, new British PM Gordon Brown is still considered an unknown quantity. 

 

On the one hand, former London Times editor Simon Jenkins, in his book Thatcher and Sons, argues that Brown – who sees himself as rooted in Labour’s socialist traditions – is essentially a Thatcherite. 

 

Jenkins’s nuanced portrayal of Margaret Thatcher is of a Prime Minister much more tentative, much more politically shrewd, than the bull-at-a-gate, conviction-driven politician of the usual rhetoric. Yet, while he rightly sees her and her team in the 80s giving a new direction to British economic policy, he also argues that Brown is her follower. 

 

It is easy to see differences. The fiscally disciplined Brown is not so much against increasing government spending, and has not been cutting taxes as much as Thatcherites would want. When he has cut them, he has favoured the poor more than the rich. And he has been much more reluctant to allow the private supply of public services in education and health. 

 

And yet, Jenkins is right insofar as Brown’s stewardship did not reverse a lot of the Thatcher reforms. Britain in the 70s had become politically constipated by self-interested groups that could veto change to protect their privilege in the short term, even if that stagnated the economy in the longer one. Thatcher, the grocer’s daughter, was as contemptuous of the privileged right as she was of the left, and wrecked both. Brown has consolidated many of Thatcher’s changes. 

 

But as much as I admire Jenkins, one of the world’s most sophisticated and insightful columnists, his political perspective, descending from that of the great centre-right intellectual Edmund Burke, does – I think – limit his ability to see the problem faced by left politicians concerned with the economy. 

 

Many are not, as Nick Cohen’s book What’s Left? nicely illustrates. Cohen, also a British newspaper columnist, but from a traditional left background, excoriates the political left’s selective outrage on international issues. In a fiery polemic of almost 400 pages, he devotes a dozen or so to economic policy issues, and even there he is dismissive of socialist economics, rather than offering any insight into where it could be going. 

So, where does the left go economically? Anti-globalisation gets a few more pages, but it is too easy to be in opposition: what would one do in government? Reinstate the privileged institutions of the left, such as traditional unionism? Stand up for the poor? Too often it does, provided it is not asked to make personal sacrifices. Economically, the left (including some New Zealand commentators) is reactionary, trying to inhibit progress and prevent change rather than facing that challenge, as its ancestors proudly did in the 19th and much of the 20th centuries. It is as if their great progressive tradition is now in a defensive reverse gear. 

 

That is the fascination of Brown. He has tried to implement progressive left economics for the 21st century, building on the traditions from the 19th. If then it was against business, we know it was more concerned with the social control of business. His predecessors instituted policies that lifted many of the grandchildren of the 19th-century poor into moderate affluence, but the left is puzzled about what to do for the rest, and concerned that those a couple of steps up the ladder seem to ignore those at the bottom. 

 

On the other hand, everyone on the ladder is more and more worried about the impact of the economy on the environment. But how to marry the two without destroying one or both? Perhaps, too, things that once seemed soluble now seem unresolvable. Does anyone know how to get the heath system working properly – other than to spend lashings of public money on it with barely any gains (the left position) or privatise it with even fewer gains (the right view)? 

 

Brown has spent 10 years struggling with such issues as Chancellor. I hope he does not want to be PM just to enjoy the glory. Blair’s New Labour miserably failed to capture the hearts of the populace and the left. We will be watching to see if Brown’s modernised and reinvigorated traditional Labour will do better. 

 

Is Economics a Science?

This short speech was to open a session on the subject at Te Papa on Thursday July 3, 2007. (revised)
Keywords: History of Ideas, Methodology & Philosophy;
Is economics a science? In a sound bite, the answer is ‘yes’ and ‘no’. If you rely on the media for your knowledge of economics (and everything else), then I have given all you want. You are welcome to go. Those who remain will have to deal the complexities of the real world, in which sound bites are not enough.
The word ‘science’ has a number of meanings. Frequently is used to mean a body of knowledge, as in the phrase ‘Marxism is the only true science’. How you tell whether such bodies of knowledge are true, is something of a puzzle – to me anyway. Since economics is a body of knowledge, it is in this sense a ‘science’.But there are many others.
However this session takes place in the Museum of New Zealand and is sponsored by the Royal Society of New Zealand, so in this context ‘science’ refers to a narrower, more specific notion. It is a body of knowledge which develops on the basis of the principles of the scientific method. What do we mean by scientific method.
I did my science degree at the University of Canterbury, where the thinking of Karl Popper loomed large, even though he had left twenty years earlier. It is his analysis which seems to me to be the best account of those principles of scientific method.
At the heart of Popper’s account is that a science is a set of propositions about the objective world, accumulated through the ages, which could be wrong, and are subject to empirical investigation. While thus far they have not been replaced, they are subject to an ongoing critical review with the  possibility that there might be a better set of theories. The Popperian scientist has to therefore humbly accept that her or his current set of theories may be proven wrong, and indeed the scientist has a duty to challenge them in order to improve them. Yet that humility is tempered by the enormous pride the scientist has in the achievements of science, the progress it has made over the centuries, and its contribution to understanding and to the welfare of humanity.
Such is that achievement of science in this narrow sense, many bodies of knowledge which are not organised on scientific principles like to call themselves ‘science’ to attract the prestige that the sciences have gained from their successes. Hence the ambiguity of the term in everyday use.
Where does that place the body of knowledge which we call economics? What I want to argue is that within economics, there is a component which is truly a science with a development subject to scientific method. But this is not true for all of economics, nor do all economists practice the critical process of the scientific method, even to those parts of their discipline which can be properly labelled ‘science’ in the narrow sense.
Perhaps there is no other body of knowledge – psychology possibly excepting – where this tensions between its scientific foundations and the rest of the body of knowledge is so profound.  Moreover, economics is a science dealing with very complex systems. The only challenger there might be ecology.
A second major problem is that economics cannot be an experiment based science. There are ethical problems, it would be incredibly expensive, and impractical – how could you run separate experiments on the same economy, even if you were allowed and could afford it? There are some economic experiments but they cover only limited parts of the subject. However, astronomy, biology, and geology are accepted sciences even though they are not primarily experimental. They have evolved non-experimental methods for investigating the real world. So has economics. (The statistician in me knows that econometricians have thought more about some aspects of non-experimental inference than anyone else in statistics.)
So in principle we can have a scientific economics, that is a subject which investigates critically economies in the objective world economy according to scientific principles. But there is also a part of the economic body of knowledge which is not scientific. Sometimes it overwhelms scientific economics.
Perhaps the problem occurs because people want to apply economics to social issues. We dont separate these activities out as we do for the applied science of engineering from the pure scientists of physics. Applying economics to questions of public policy is often thought more important than investigating the empirical phenomenon. A few years back I was talking to an ex-Treasury economist about the economic issues underpinning the broadcasting reforms. My colleague impatiently cut to the quick. ‘That all aside, Brian, you do agree with the reforms dont you?’.
Or consider a recent paper by an American economist who argued that since most people disagreed with his policy conclusions, they must be stupid and irrational. As it happens his policy conclusions involve assumptions which may or may not apply. It is perfectly rational to make other assumptions: others do.
Here one is moving from ‘positive’ economics – the way the world is – to ‘normative’ economics of what it ought to be. As the great eighteenth century philosopher (and also an important contributor to economics) David Hume argued you cant get from the empirical world to the moral world without inserting some moral assumption. Getting an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’ is like getting blood from a stone. Yet people try.
I am struck how in an earlier age, some economists would have been comfortable as preachers, relying on the ‘Good Book’ – a body of knowledge interpreted via the non-scientific principles of faith – to promise us damnation if we do not follow the preacher’s path to holiness.
Such an approach distorts judgements about the real world. Recently I was at a seminar in which a young economist stated a proposition, and the presenter, a very able research economist – a scientist – innocently asked whether he had any evidence for it. The reply, tediously long, was about the young economist’s (not very interesting) opinions on what he thought were the policy implications of the proposition. When cut off by asking whether he had any empirical evidence, he shamefacedly said he did not. He had been arguing that an empirical proposition was true because it conformed to his political and policy preferences. The test of truth did not involve scientific principles, but the ideological one of that it conformed to a preset view of the world.
One consequence of this approach is the quality of an economist’s scientific work becomes judged by whether it is consistent with the policies of those in power. At this point the scientific content of the body of knowledge of economics collapses. Some of its propositions may be empirically true, but they are no longer evaluated by scientific means.
Sadly, perhaps as a result, those economists you are most likely to hear in the media are these ideologues (or perhaps those who are paid by their employers to represent a particular view). Journalists do not have time, nor generally the expertise, to allow a economist to explain the uncertainties of their science.
Keynes famously remarked, that ‘it is better to be vaguely right, than precisely wrong’ The media prefer the opposite. The public is presented with economics as a certain body of knowledge dominated by ideology rather than science.
This presentation has not been a sound bite. Its content is larger than an hour of television news stripped of its adverts, the weather, sport, jocularity and trivia. Little enough of any residual is devoted to economics anyway. Yet I have hardly introduced the subject.
Much of what I have said tonight has been very abstract, without sufficient practical illustrations. After we have had coffee, I will answer questions which will discriminate between economics as ideology and economics as science. I hope to surprise you by demonstrating that there is a real scientific element in economics – yet too often we ignore it in favour of the sound bite of ideology.
I am grateful to Robert Nola, for some very useful comments on an earlier version of this paper.
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Not a Pound Of Flesh

The quality of mercy should never be strained, and businesses need to balance ethics and profitability. 

 

Listener: 30 June, 2007. 

 

Keywords: Business & Finance; 

 

The cause of Folole Muliaga’s death after a contractor for Mercury Energy cut off the electricity supply to her household remains uncertain, but the tragedy reminds us that business operations can be damned heartless. Which was the point of the protest outside Mercury’s head office, when people held up signs saying “Profits Before People”. 

 

Is it that simple? We live in an increasingly complicated economy, which we co-ordinate through the price system. We know of no alternative that deals as effectively with the complexities. (The planning mechanisms of the Soviet empire broke down as their economies became more affluent.) 

 

The price system rewards risk and innovation (as well as saving). We know of no better way of dealing with risk and innovation: government bureaucracies do not do it at all well. 

 

But should we treat the price system as a means to an end? As Humpty-Dumpty might have said, “The question is, which is to be master?” Which was what the protesters were asking: society or the economy? 

 

That is why there are restrictions on business enterprise. In the case of cutting off power, there existed a set of guidelines of which apparently few, if any, electricity supply authorities took notice. It may be wrong to condemn Mercury alone. Another company could have cut off a poverty-stricken household’s electricity in similarly tragic circumstances. 

 

The guidelines may become regulations. Perhaps someone will mutter about the additional compliance costs. They should be considered as a part of checking that the regulations are effective, not – as sometimes occurs – an argument for business to be master. 

 

Such regulations do not resolve the wider problem. Other vital supplies also need attention – apparently the Muliaga family had their telephone cut off, too. Businesses may be heartless now, but they could be made responsive. Sure, if it is in their interests, businesses will be socially and environmentally sensitive, but we can also set up a regulatory framework against the times when they are not. 

 

While businesses are not human and cannot be ethical in the human sense, we can demand that their employees are. Every business should be required to have a policy of expecting all its staff (and subcontractors) to maintain the highest ethical standards, even if that compromises profitability. However, for the price system to work in a socially acceptable way, people must have adequate incomes. It would be intrusive to speculate on the Muliaga family’s finances, but we know they were a two-earner family cut back to one income because of her sickness. 

 

Many families find it difficult to adjust to such sharp income reductions. While employers may provide some sickness cover, it is usually only for the short term. A family with a second earner does not even qualify for a sickness benefit – a residual leftover from the days when social policy encompassed only one-earner families. 

 

So there needs to be a better form of publicly provided earnings-related sickness (and unemployment) cover, perhaps not as generous as ACC, but one that gives families the opportunity to adjust to longer-term circumstances. 

 

Yes, there will be compliance costs – we need to make sure any scheme is effective -– but without something to meet these transitional needs, our price system fails to serve people as well as it might. 

 

The first article I ever studied about the price system was a rigorous, lucid analysis in which there was no income redistribution. It observed that there would be people with insufficient income to survive. So the writer bleakly proposed that these people died off, and then derived some elegant and insightful theorems about the survivors. 

 

Tjalling Koopmans, who was later awarded a Nobel Prize in economics for this work, was not an inhumane man – far from it. Rather he was deliberately confronting us with the brutality of the price system if it is master and not servant. It is a lesson that this student has never forgotten and it is why I am so insistent that an economy based on prices and business must have a fair distribution of income. 

Acting Up: Two into One Won’t Go.

Listener: 16 June, 2007 

 

Keywords: Macroeconomics & Money; 

 

When the Reserve Bank Act was passed in 1989, there were those who warned that it would not work. To be sure, the principle of making the bank responsible for operating monetary policy while the government of the day set the policy objective is a good one. The interference experienced by Reserve Bankers in Robert Muldoon’s time demonstrated that. But the objective of exclusively targeting inflation was not as well conceived. 

 

If it were properly conceived at all. None of the papers – I repeat, not one of the papers – prepared in the run-up to the Act’s passing discussed whether inflation control was feasible. Apparently it was thought that monetary policy could sustainably influence the inflation rate (rather than, say, growth or employment) in the medium term at least, but I find no argument for this belief. 

 

In any case, the path taken by monetary policy on its way to the medium term may determine what the economy is like when it gets there. 

 

As was pointed out by dissenters at the time, the Reserve Bank can control inflation by means of a high exchange rate. That way, low import prices keep consumer prices down, directly when consumers buy imports and indirectly when competition from imports forces down the price of home production. But exporting becomes less profitable, is choked off and economic growth slows. 

 

Which is exactly what happened, although even the dissenters failed to predict the six consecutive years of recession (falling per capita output) that occurred between 1986 and 1993. 

 

Much of what I have just written is now the conventional wisdom – suggesting that it has taken up to two decades for sensible analysis to become accepted. 

 

Once more we face a high real-exchange rate, exporters are suffering and economic growth appears to be slowing, although probably not to the point of stagnation. The Reserve Bank’s actions have exacerbated this. 

 

But they are not the main culprits. The US, running a huge budget deficit, is injecting liquidity into the world economy because the US dollar is the internationally preferred currency. Consequently, it is depreciating, which makes other currencies – including our dollar – appreciate. The smaller and more open an economy, the more it is affected. 

 

The intricacies of these processes are too complex to analyse in a paragraph, so let’s put it this way: we are all on the soccer field, but the biggest player, who is also the referee, is playing rugby. What game to play? 

 

Unless the irrelevant monetarist framework is abandoned, the answer is far from obvious. I would be careful of overseas expertise based on theories steeped in the economics of the large and relatively closed US economy. The central characteristics of the New Zealand economy are that it is small and open, with sectors that respond differently to price, monetary and exchange-rate changes. 

 

There are economists trying to think outside the constricting framework. They observe that if there are two objectives – inflation and the exchange rate – we cannot ask the Reserve Bank to tackle both with only one policy instrument. (Currently, it is the official cash rate – the OCR – that underpins short-term interest rates.) 

 

Many of the nostrums proposed for dealing with the current situation – such as capital-gains taxes on housing – are outside monetary policy. That may implicitly critique the narrowness of the monetarist framework that the current Reserve Bank incumbents have inherited. But they do not address how to deal with the world monetary disequilibrium. 

 

This column will try to keep you in touch with the thinking that may become the conventional wisdom one day. Meanwhile, we may be dominated by ideologues who made their reputations on the wrong framework. John Kenneth Galbraith, in his readable and insightful Money: Whence It Came, Where It Went, remarks that John Maynard Keynes “was not forgiven for his compassion, and later events made him even less eligible for absolution, for men of reputation naturally see the person who has been right as a threat to their own eminence”. We need a new Keynes and, even more important, we need to listen to him – or her. 

Serious Cargo

One small voyage for a ship, one giant leap for New Zealand. 

 

Listener: 2 June 2007. 

 

Keywords: Globalisation & Trade; Growth & Innovation; Political Economy & History; 

 

This month, 125 years ago in 1882, the Dunedin docked at the Port of London with a cargo of meat from New Zealand that sold at double its local price. Refrigeration substantially reduced the cost of distant shipping for fresh foods but, even more dramatically, changed New Zealand: economically, socially, politically and technologically. 

 

For much of the 19th century the (European) New Zealand economy had been a “quarry” from which resources were extracted and exported – seals, whales, native timber, gold, other minerals, kauri gum. Once they had been depleted, all that seemed left was a low-density population based on extensive sheep stations exporting wool and tallow – a Falklands of the South Pacific – although canned fruit and meat and exotic timber production were vague possibilities. Refrigeration made possible intensive family farms of crossbred sheep and dairying, plus a larger, and more egalitarian, population. 

 

So social and political life was transformed. Quarries, which deplete and are left behind, have no need for children. By the end of the 19th century, women had become more important in our society because it was now based on sustainability. Our first permanent political party (the Liberals) came into being about the same time: previously politics had been a matter of temporary coalitions. 

 

Our approach to why we lived here changed: retiring prime ministers chose to stay in New Zealand, rather than go back to the “Old Country”. Our relationship with the world also changed. It seems likely that without intensive pastoral settlement we would have joined the Australian states in federating in 1901. 

 

The new political economy was to drive New Zealand for at least 85 years, losing its dominance in 1966 when the profitability of sheep farming fell, after the price of wool collapsed. The economy diversified to a wider resource base: energy and minerals, fish, general manufacturing, horticulture, tourism and other services, and wood-based export – while we ceased to depend so much on Britain. Today Australia, the US, Japan and China are bigger export destinations than the UK, while they and Germany are bigger import sources. 

 

But it would be wrong to think of the pastoral transformation as solely the consequence of refrigeration. Modern shipping, then the Panama Canal and cable telegraph and, later, wireless radio also reduced the costs of distance, placing New Zealand producers closer to their markets. 

 

New market opportunities led to innovations in production. In Gulliver’s Travels, Jonathan Swift famously remarks that “whoever could make … two blades of grass grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put together”. He could have added that the development of livestock to harvest the grass more effectively, together with better post-farmgate processing in freezing works and dairy factories, would also be a boon. Perhaps our farm sector has done better than our politicians. 

 

The impact of some technologies can be very dynamic, far beyond what those who introduced them envisaged at the time; they may generate other technologies in quite different areas that impact markedly on a society’s way of life. 

 

Which leads me to wonder about the technologies coming at us today. Refrigeration was around for up to 100 years before it reached New Zealand. Similarly with information technology and communications (ICT). Refrigerated shipping was not invented in New Zealand, nor were we the first to apply it – that honour goes to Argentina and Australia. But perhaps no country was more transformed by the technology. 

 

Could that be true for ICT? Another technological change of which we are not aware may yet have an even bigger impact. This column is not a plea for a futurology created in order to make economic forecasting look successful. Rather, it is to remind readers that technological changes can have an impact beyond the comprehension of those introducing them and that we need to be flexible in thought and in the institutions we create to take advantage of them. How many people were on the wharf when the Dunedin left Port Chalmers? 

 

<>Note: When I originally prepared this column I found a number of references to ‘SS Dunedin’. The expression SS refers to ‘Steam Ship’ (or sometimes ‘Single Screw’ – i.e. not paddle wheel). The Dunedin was a sailing ship with no auxiliary power, so the label is wrong. The error may have arisen because the Dunedin had a funnel for the refrigeration machinery. I am grateful to maritime historians Joan Druett, Malcolm Lewis, Jeremy Lowe, Auke Palmhof and Damien Sanders for sorting this out. Thankyou.

Save and Win

Subsidies could help us save more – and boost economic growth. 

Listener: 19 May, 2007. 

Keywords: Macroeconomics & Money; 

New Zealanders are not saving enough. The consequence is that a high proportion of our most productive capital is becoming overseas-owned, as we use foreign savings to finance our new investment and sell existing assets to cover the national savings shortage. 

Even more seriously, the foreign savers funding our over-consumption require high returns that push up interest rates and the exchange rate. That squeezes the profitability of the export sector, whose resulting poor performance ruins the economy’s growth prospects. 

Much of the recent criticism directed at the Reserve Bank is unwarranted. The fundamental problem is the eccentric US fiscal stance, with its large deficit driving down the US dollar, thereby increasing our (and just about everyone else’s) exchange rate against it. Monetary policy is virtually irrelevant. 

A sensible response would be to increase the nation’s savings, pay off debt and invest in productive assets. We are doing the opposite. The dis-savers must be relying on the government to bail them out in due course, but that requires the rest of us to be prudent, and willing to carry the necessary burden. 

To be fair, the business sector has a good savings record, but that is not as much help as it might be, given that the sector is increasingly overseas-owned. The government has a good savings record too, as I shall explain. The real failure to save is by private households, many of which are spending more than they earn, running up debt on credit cards and mortgages on overpriced houses. It is their failure that has to be addressed. 

The government is – broadly – saving enough to fund its investment and it is also putting aside some for future New Zealand Superannuation obligations (the Cullen Fund). This savings-before-investment figure is an accounting notion, frequently referred to as “The Budget Surplus”, even though almost all of it has been spent. 

Treating the amount as available for tax cuts (or for more government spending) confuses an accounting aggregate with an economic reality. It was a monetarist confusion that seemed to lead the National Party during the 2005 election to propose using this “surplus” for income tax cuts. Had the policy been implemented, the cuts would have fed into household consumption, reduced national saving, and so pushed the exchange rate up further, screwing even more exporters and ruining the economy even further. 

Fortunately, wiser – or at least more economically informed – heads seem to have since prevailed in National. 

But even with a more responsible approach, the large apparent Budget “surplus” (before investment and such spending) is politically unstable: there will always be those who, from economic ignorance or political opportunism, argue that this money – which we haven’t got – should be given away in tax cuts. The danger is that enough of the public may believe the ill-informed to drive an irresponsible economic policy – as almost happened in 2005. 

It is said that this year’s Budget might introduce a savings subsidy. Perhaps worker contributions to KiwiSaver will not be subject to income tax. The government’s apparent surplus will thus be lower, but the nation’s total savings will not be compromised and the exchange rate will not rise as a result, despite the apparent income tax cuts. 

Because the government “surplus” will look smaller, while the macroeconomic stance is not undermined, budgets will look more politically sustainable, with less opportunity for the politically illiterate to propose destructive policies. 

Better still, if designed right, savings subsidies could encourage households to save more, since the more you save the less tax you pay. If so, the tax-cut-for-savings package could reduce the pressure on the balance of payments and lead to a reduction in the exchange rate – to the benefit of exporters and economic growth. 

Done well, a savings subsidy could be an important contribution to a better-balanced, sustainable and growing economy, while preparing us for the day when the US fiscal position turns the world economy to custard. We will have to wait for the Budget to find out whether the government has the skills to finesse such a gain. 

Decommercialising Advanced Studies

Keywords:  Education;  Governance; Growth & Innovation;
 

The judges of a singing contest, dissatisfied with the first diva, awarded the prize to the second without having heard her. The favouring of commercialisation in the late 1980s and early 1990s had a similar empirical base. We have now heard the second diva, and while she has some strengths, her weaknesses are also increasingly apparent. It is time to move on to training a third diva, based on the lessons we learned from the first two.
 

This paper questions the uncritical application of business (or commercial) principles to the public sector that took place in the early 1990s, from a (wider) economics perspective.  It focuses mainly upon the tertiary sector, rather than science for three reasons.
 

First, there has been a tendency for critics of each commercialised sector to look only into their silo, and not learn from others, yet there are common themes through all experiences.  While this author has put most effort into examining the impact of commercialisation on health, he has drawn lessons from other sectors and their experiences, transferring lessons learned from one sector to others.
 

Critics of the science sector reforms have been less willing to analyse rigorously the commercialisation model than have the critics of some other sectors. This leads to the second reason for detailing a commercialisation critique of the tertiary education sector. It may offer some of the science sector critics a way of thinking more rigorously about their own sector.
 

Third, the distinction between education and research does not make a lot of sense at advanced levels. Those who wish to reform the science sector need to think a carefully about what tertiary education means, even whether it should be relabelled, ‘quaternary’.
 

This paper uses the term ‘commercialisation’ to mean the application of business (or commercial) principles, as did my book The Commercialisation of New Zealand. The term should be treated here as a technical-neutral notion, even though it can be, and is, used rhetorically. The fundamental issue is where the principles should be applied. It will be evident from this paper, and from the book, that in my judgement they were applied in situations which rigorous analysis would not justify.
 

The Failure of Commercialisation
 

In the late 1980s and early 1990s there were pressures for commercialising of state activities including those in health, education, science research and, even as far as it could be done, the core public service. Applying business principles to the public sector made sense in a kind of elementary economics course way. Its easy understandability made it popular even among some of those who were to become its victims. If the activity was converted into a commercial one in a market, producers – so it was said – would seek least cost solutions, with efficiency and quality of performance gains, as the business drivers for efficiency would make the activities more effective too.  (Recall that productivity gains of more than 20 percent were promised for the health commercialisation. Measured against the promises, the actual gains were negligible.) Many of those in the commercialised activities favoured the changes in principle, although once they were begun the flaws began to become apparent. But it was too late, and commercialisation rolled over many of the workers in the sector.
 

Hardly anyone stopped to wonder why such a simple solution had not been adopted in the past, or whether it had been, and found wanting. The nuances of commercial behaviour and markets – the stuff of advanced courses – were also ignored. No matter that they were only too relevant to the activities which were being commercialise.
 

It is said marry in haste, repent at leisure. That seems true for much of the commercialisation. It is now a decade and a half since the changes, and many sectors are still struggling with the aftermath of the commercialisation roller.
 

Commercialisation and the Universities
 

Take, for example, the universities, which once received block grants with marginal funding for student courses. Nowadays it is – for teaching – the other way around. The commercialisation belief was that student choice would drive the universities to higher efficiency and a more socially desirable balance of courses. We consider the fallacy of student choice below, but first some post-elementary level economics.
 

Tertiary institutions, their faculties and departments, and their individual courses experience substantial economies of scale, that is, falling unit (average) costs with rising output. The analysis of scale economies is messy, so it is usually ignored at elementary levels, perhaps with the assumption that the level of output of the firm is sufficiently large so there are no further significant economies of scale. What happens when market demand is not big enough to reach this point is left to advanced courses.
 

To simplify, assume that a tertiary institution has only one department and one course. Moreover, suppose the cost of the core services (we’ll call them the ‘registry’ but it includes other things) is independent of the numbers of students, while the cost of teaching each student is the same. Under the block system the registry would get its funds, and the residual would determine the number of students to be taught.
 

Now suppose funding switches to student fees. Each fee will have to be higher than it costs to teach a student in order to fund the registry (and other fixed cost activities). That means every time a student is taken on, the institution makes a surplus which it can use to fund the registry (or if those costs are covered, for some other purpose). Now it is in the institution’s interests to increase the number of students as far as possible, in order to make as big a surplus as possible.
 

We won’t go into the murky analytic details as we introduce many departments and courses, but basically  a ‘bums-on-seats’ regime puts pressure on the academics to reduce standards to generate surpluses.  Note too, that the relationship between the departments and the registry has changed for now the department (and course) role is to generate funds to cover registry costs. (Many academics are aware of the resulting political tensions without comprehending why. Many CRI scientist consider they are in a parallel situation.)
 

Why did this quality downgrade not happen under the previous regime of block funding? The short answer is the number of students was fixed, so one department increasing its student numbers could only do so at the expense of other departments, who kept wary eyes on their competitors’ standards. Similarly, there was little incentive for each university to attract students from others.
 

Should we move back to a block grant? It is a difficult system to administrate since in practice each tertiary institution will require a different lump sum reflecting course mix, student numbers and the services the ‘registry’ provides. But better that than a system which we know gives bad outcomes. John Maynard Keynes famously said, ‘It is better to be vaguely right than precisely wrong.’ (Robert Skidelsky, also an eminent economist, remarked that ‘Most economists would disagree.’ Perhaps scientists might support them, but engineers applying the science would not.)
 

I have gone into some detail to indicate how the simple assumptions of the commercialisation model have distorted the tertiary sector. There are more lessons to draw.
 

Do Students Make Right Choices?
 

The first is whether we trust student choice to give the right balance of graduates. If the tertiary institutions’ advertising behaviour is any indication, the institutions see their students as wanting a degree rather than an education. One could argue that many departments are as cynical about student choice.
 

As it happens, a substantial part of student fees are paid by the government with student demand determining how it is spent. We should not be surprised at the scams (largely outside the university sector), that erupted a couple of years ago, in which valueless courses with poor pass rates (and zero student fees) were being publicly funded (or even that some of the public money was kicked backed to students in various ways as an incentive to enrol) in order for institutions to obtain enough funds to cover ‘registry’ expenses. How on earth does the funding agency know the value of what it is purchasing? Did it agree when certain university departments arbitrarily raised their pass rates to increase student demand for their courses?
 

Even without scams there is the problem of the right balance. The commercialisers ignore the issue by assuming that students were the best determiners of what society needed. Precisely wrong again. The whole point of an education is that the typical student is vague about what he or she wants, even if fairly clear they want a degree or certificate at the end.
 

The distinction between education and degrees in New Zealand goes back to at least the 1925 report of the (Reichel-Tate) Royal Commission on Universities which commented that New Zealand ‘offer[ed] unrivalled facilities for gaining university degrees but … [wa]s less successful in providing university education.’ The distinction was lost in the 1989 Review of Post-Compulsory Education and Training (the Hawke Report), the foundation documents for the commercialisation of tertiary education, which said that public policy should not distinguish between education and vocational training.
 

Whether students are very good at even making training decisions for life may be questioned. Their employers want specific skills, and the system will be pulled towards that short term. What the country wants however – especially in an environment of rapid technological and social change – is generic skills (albeit often advanced ones), more akin to education than training, which will provide a foundation for the whole of the working life.
 

It is easy to say that the public sector – be it the higher levels of government or the tertiary education providers themselves – are not good at judging future skills and education requirements. But why should students or their parents be any better? It is not obvious that the funding system before 1989, which depended on an interplay between public sector and student judgement, was inferior to that which followed, with its greater weight given to student choice mediated by superficial marketing.
 

Reforming the tertiary system is not a matter of a few more patches on what is treated as a basically sound system. That is the way we ran the economy before 1984. The assumption was that anti-market regulation was sound, and any defects could be resolved by just a few more adjustments, and then a few more, and then a few more … As the fine tuning accumulated, it became evident that there was something profoundly wrong with the underlying system. We have reached that point with the current tertiary system. It is not a matter of its commercialisation working if only a few further adaptations are made. The commercialisation is not working.
 

This does not mean we throw every recent change out. Rather we start with a new conceptual framework, which may absorb relevant parts of the current system while rejecting others.
 

Restructuring the Tertiary Sector
 

At the heart of the changes is the need to accept that there is no longer a single level all-purpose tertiary system. Although they cannot be totally separated out, we need to distinguish providing mass post-secondary education from providing advanced education and research. Fickle student demand drives mass education, which means each institution’s teaching input has to be flexible. But advanced level education and research need more stability. The two activities require fundamentally different production processes, so the logic is they had to have different kinds of providers with different cultures.
 

What might such a system look like? It might involve the tertiary system being split into two components: Colleges for Tertiary Education (CTEs) which mainly teach undergraduates, and Institutes of Advanced Studies (IASs) which focus on graduate teaching and research. They would be largely separate organisations although many CTEs would have a few centres of research excellence, and staff upgrading their research. IASs could have an undergraduate college program for (very able) students – even world class academics like to engage with young minds – but it would be a small part of their total of activity than in universities today. There would be a consolidation of IASs to five – one for each main centre. Some of the existing university campuses would become the foundations for CTEs. 
 

This proposal is, perhaps, not as radical as it seems, for it has parallels the way the US tertiary system currently functions.
 

Attendance at a CTE need not be a dead educational end (although many students will go out from them into employment). IASs would actively recruit their graduate students from CTEs thus setting a quality control on the demand driven courses.
 

Polytechs and Wananga would become CTEs too and IASs would also recruit from their top graduates. However such institutions would continue to teach a lot of sub-undergraduate ‘craft’ courses. The economy desperately needs those skills too.
 

The public funding would switch back to block grants, probably on a rolling basis for three to five years, so that the institutions would have some financial stability. The grant would go with a contract between the institution and funder (the Tertiary Education Commission). Students would continue to pay fees, roughly corresponding to their marginal teaching costs, so that the institutions could take on more students if they wanted, but would only do so for educational purposes and not to cover registry costs, thus giving additional flexibility to the system.
 

A lot of the special grants – such as for Centres of Research Excellence and Performance Based Research – could be subsumed in the block grant. (Today they are there to ameliorate the bums-on-seats approach, a clear signal that commercialisation is not working.) It is likely there would be two different block grant formulae, one for IASs and one for CTEs. In both cases they would reflect the size of the local population, and the subject mix plus the institution’s particular contributions to its wider community.
 

There would still be Private Training Establishments (PTEs). Not-for-profit institutions similar to the public ones (theological schools are an example) would be funded similarly to CTEs. Those for-profit PTEs specialising in providing specific skills programs might get little direct public support since the student would expect to recoup their fees from higher pay-rates on graduation. However, it is hard to generalise about them: some have been doing an excellent task, others not so, and in any case there is such a diversity. (For instance those providing remedial skills because the core education system failed them would receive performance based funding.) Because of their profit orientation, there would be much closer supervision of the public monies distributed to PTEs than has been recent practice.
 

Where do the Crown Research Institutes Fit In?
 

The institutional effect of these changes would be to create an upper level in the tertiary education sector – in effect a ‘quaternary’ sector. The Crown Research Institutes are already a part of a quaternary sector. Indeed the DSIR was created at about the time of the Reichal-Tate report because the universities were not functioning as centres of advanced studies, but only as teaching institutions.
 

CRIs have been torn by pressures from commercialisation too. The approach may work where they are developing commercial applications of their findings but it is not particularly relevant for doing fundamental science whose commercial return, if any, is beyond the normal business horizon. The continuum between the two extremes is related to, but not exactly correlated with, time horizons. The same tensions face a university based centre for advanced studies.
There has been not much rigorous thought about the alternatives to the existing commercialisation mode of CRIs. It cannot just be putting another patch on the existing system. On the other hand it is not a matter of abandoning the precisely wrong approach of the commercialisation reforms to return to the fudged pre-reform situation is. There are proposals for partial block funding of CRIs (say 30 percent of their funding), although this may be more sticking plaster.
 

Perhaps in the ideal world the fundamental science studies would be the prerogative of the universities and commercial development for the CRIs. But practically, universities want to train students for application science, while as commercial a corporation as Google Inc encourages its engineers to spend a fifth of their time on activities which interest them. It is said that half of new products which  Google launches originated from ‘20% time’.
 

In the end then there is a strong case for merging the IASs and the CRIs. However historical and institutional differences mean it would not be easy. Over the years, the universities and the CRIs have developed in quite different ways. They report to different agencies (Tertiary Education Commission and Ministry of Research Science and Technology) and usually have different ministers; their main public funding mainly comes from different pots (Marsden fund plus CORE and PBRF funding from the TEC compared to FRST), and they have different legal frameworks and geographic dispersions (many CRIs have locations throughout the country).
 

Moreover CRIs and university departments tend to have different approaches to knowledge, with the CRIs more multi-disciplinary, and universities more disciplined based. Disciplines may be necessary for teaching at CTE levels, but the IASs need to learn from the CRIs and move to a more cross-disciplinary approach.
 

More subtly, their general stance towards technology is quite different. Teaching tends to be most concerned with international technology transfer, whereas the rhetoric of CRI research is technology creation.
 

(Research policy in New Zealand is distorted by this rhetoric. To the nearest decimal point, 100 percent of all the world’s research, science and technology occurs overseas. Yet we discuss the national innovation system with barely any recognition of this salient fact. Of course New Zealand RST should be concerned with technology creation, but one suspects that it would be supported differently if international technology transfer were more prominent in policy thinking. And it would probably make a greater contribution to the economy.)
 

Change will be further frustrated by the existence of institutions and people committed to commercialisation framework. I do not mean a commitment like the one I hold, that sometimes commercial approaches are the best means of pursuing social goals (especially where the interface with commerce is the greatest). Rather there are those who accept uncritically the simple commercialisation message, and who are often working in an institutional context where the paradigm makes sense in a very narrow context. It may be too uncomfortable for such people to change to a better paradigm.
 

Probably the best strategy for CRI change would be to encourage cooperation among various institutions. Sharing facilities (and campuses), sharing staff , some joint teaching, joint funding applications, investing together in more commercial applications. I wonder if FRST and the Marsden Fund might get together so that the more applied projects of the former would get complementary fundamental research funding from the latter.
 

Such merger processes should be neither forced nor fast. There will be enough upheaval in the tertiary education sector anyway. Perhaps it will take 20 years to get to a well-functioning structure. In the interim we need to be clear where we are going and to test every change by whether it helps reach the end goal of effective centres for advanced studies
 

Commercialisation was easy to implement because it was a simple theory using an unrealistic account of reality. Offsetting the ease of implementation was the performance failure. We need the opposite approach based on a complex theory which relates to the actual world. It will be difficult to implement, but will give higher performance than is currently being achieved.
 

[1] The author wrote The Commercialisation of New Zealand which elaborates the general theory used in this article. He is grateful for comments on earlier drafts by Paul Gandar and Janet Grieve, and by a very thoughtful anonymous reader.
 

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Look Back in Regret

How our fondness for instant gratification challenges conventional economic thinking.
 

Listener: 5 May, 2007.
 

Keywords: Health; Social Policy;
 

You go into the bar for a couple of drinks. The following morning you can’t remember how many you had, but your head and throat wish you had not.
 

What intrigues an economist is that while with hindsight you regret the outcome, you appeared to be making a rational decision at each purchase. It is not the regret you might have had if you were stopped for a breathalyser test on your way home. Economists assume there that you made a calculated gamble that you would not be stopped, and you lost.
 

In this case, despite having learnt nothing new, you regret the drinking decisions. Moreover, you knew when you walked into the bar that if you drank too much, you’d regret it.
 

We could label the behaviour “addictive” or the result of “instantaneous gratification”, but economists use the clumsier, though less judgmental, expression “time-inconsistent decision-making”. This is not the fickleness of someone who keeps changing their mind. The concern is when they regret their decision, despite having appeared to be rational when they made it, and there having been no new relevant information since.
 

Normally, we assume rationality: that one does not subsequently change one’s mind if there is no reason to do so. Provided nothing changes, the standard public decision procedure (cost-benefit analysis) gives exactly the same conclusion if it is made at a later time. Consider the mess if any decision depended on when it was made. Yet that seems to be what the remorseful drinker has done.
 

In recent years, economists have drawn on psychology to model time-inconsistency. The approach I like involves, in effect, two time-discounting rules, both of which are “rational” and time-consistent.
 

But together they result in time-inconsistency. It is almost like having two decision centres in the brain, one of which carefully judges long-term benefits while the other looks only at immediate returns.
 

Combining them leads to poor-quality decisions (no wonder drunks have headaches).
 

Time-inconsistency is not peculiar to drinking alcohol. If the economists’ theory is true, it must apply to a wide range of activities, not all of which are “sinful”; over-indulging in salted peanuts often appears in economists’ accounts. Were more economists female, perhaps it would be chocolate.
 

Intriguingly, the welfare of the time-inconsistent individual can be improved by taxing the over-consumed product. (Think how much physically better off you would be in the morning if a tax on alcohol had raised the price sufficiently to cut back your unplanned drinking.) This is different from the case for taxing alcohol to cover social costs not charged in the production price of the product. It applies to products for which there are no such “externalities” – even salted peanuts and chocolates.
 

This might suggest a case for taxing everything where there is instant gratification – which may be near enough to everything. I would be more cautious. Economists (and politicians and taxmen) are not that clever when it comes to making the detailed calculations that are required. (There is no evidence that economists are less prone to time-inconsistency.)
 

Generally, it is better to leave people to make their own mistakes, rather than Big Brother make them for them.
 

But some consumption has an investment aspect when the benefits (and gratification) take time to eventuate. In such circumstances, time-inconsistent decision-making would result in the regret of not consuming more in the past – of under-consuming. Examples include:
            • not putting enough effort into preventive health care (instead over-eating, not exercising, drinking too much and smoking);
            • under-investing in education (and later suffering from being insufficiently qualified);
            • not saving enough when one is working (so one’s retirement is very restricted).
 

The logic for subsidising under-consumption is exactly the same as for taxing over-consumption. So we have long subsidised education, and in recent years public spending on preventive health has become a priority.
 

People also seem to under-save (the complement of over-consuming). The government has recently begun addressing this failure. The KiwiSaver scheme being introduced in July has incentives to join (including a start-up subsidy) and to save systematically. The idea is to lock people into regular savings out of their earnings. With the benefit of hindsight, many will regret that the scheme did not start earlier.

The Passionate Economist

A tribute to Wolfgang Rosenberg (1914-2007) – scholar, public intellectual and gentleman.
 

Listener: 21 April, 2007.
 

Keywords: History of Ideas, Methodology & Philosophy;
 

There were many tributes to Wolf Rosenberg when he died recently at 92. As well as his considerable achievements as a teacher, writer and activist, people recalled his commitment to economics and law (a profession he took up after turning 65); to civil liberties, social justice and socialism; and to New Zealand solutions to New Zealand problems (for despite arriving here when he was 22, he had a less colonial mindset than some native-born New Zealanders).
 

Wolf, with his charming old-world courtesies, was much loved and respected even by those who politically disagreed with him.
 

For my own memorial tribute I want to have a dialogue with him, something I have done all my economic life, for he was the first economist I ever met. Because he is not here to tell me where I go wrong, I’ll bias the dialogue towards his views.
 

Wolf was one of the last of the generation scarred by the Great Depression of the 1930s. After Hitler’s rise to power in Germany, he lost his job and had to endure anti-Semitic insults. He migrated to “that wonderful country”, New Zealand.
 

Like others of his generation, he was an “elasticity pessimist”, arguing that market prices often reconcile supply and demand only at enormous social cost. (“Elasticity” is economist’s jargon for how sensitive supply and demand are to price changes.)
 

Thus he insisted on the need for import controls, believing that changes in the exchange rate would be insufficient to bring a balance between exports and imports. Instead, it would come via a quantity adjustment of higher unemployment, as workers were laid off to reduce the demand for imports.
 

When prices need to change a lot to get a quantity change, they can have a dramatic impact on income distribution. Modelling by Bryan Philpott in the 1980s suggested that the wages of the unskilled would have had to fall 27 percent to eliminate unemployment, with a devastating impact on workers’ standards of living.
 

Better, Wolf would argue, to intervene in the market with controls. (Instead, we left the unemployment, eliminating it over 10 years by a growing economy, with a huge current account deficit, heavy overseas borrowing and increased foreign ownership of New Zealand.)
 

Later generations were more elasticity-optimistic, as they saw how small price changes can lead to major adjustments, although they were not all as extremist as the Rogernomes.
 

Reconciling the elasticity optimists and pessimists can depend on the timeframe. Product markets often do not respond quickly to prices. But in the long run they may. Wolf, who could be very quick, might come back with Keynes’s “In the long run we are all dead”, then elaborate that the short-run damage could be catastrophic.
 

I’d probably respond by saying that the controls do not work very well either, especially in the post-Depression world of rising affluence and wide choices of products and technologies. Wolf might respond that unemployed workers don’t have a lot of choice. I’d leave with the sneaking feeling that we should not reject all controls.
 

I am not going to leave him with the last word. Mine is: farewell Wolf – passionate scholar, public intellectual and gentleman. We’ll miss you.
 

Of course I gave dear Woofie the last word. In a separate box there was:
 

ROSENBERG’S DIAGNOSIS AND PRESCRIPTION
* Economic policies must be formulated within the nation. Internationalism is desirable, It is co-operation between healthy nations.
* Without being able to pay its way internationally, a nation’s independent existence is threatened.
* There is no automatic mechanism to keep a nation’s imports within the limits of its exchange earning capacity,
* So without controls on foreign trade and exchange, a nation cannot simultaneously maintain external balance and full employment.
* Protection and import controls are a necessary but not sufficient condition for full employment.
* Planned policies of using internal resources for investment and qualitative improvement of the people and resources of New Zealand can only be successful if they do not cause foreign exchange crises.
* Import substitution, export promotion, social improvement of health and education, greater Maori self-determination and nature’s conservation and enhancement are essential conditions for full employment.
* We need a two-tier economy. One tier uses advanced techniques for export production through government-supported and intensified research and development, plus an expanding basis of universally accessible education. The other lower-tech tier creates the jobs to maintain full employment.
From his New Zealand Can Be Different and Better
 

My celebration on Wolf’s  80th birthday.

Housing Prices Relative to Consumer Prices

Keywords: Macroeconomics & Money;

I was asked to provide the New Zealand equivalent in the graph showing US housing prices relative to consumer prices in Real Estate Roller Coaster .

The longest housing price series I could find starts at the end of 1979 and finishes in late 2006. I wont go into detail but it is not an ideal index (median prices for houses sold). However it will serve reasonably well for long run purposes. Deflated by the Consumer Price Index, the shorter graph for New Zealand appears as follows:

<>house_to_cpi_79-06.gif
[Click to Enlarge]

I have put in a trend line for the 1979 to 2002 period. You can see there is a tendency for housing prices to race ahead of consumer prices, and then fall back. Its slope amounts to about 2.5 percent a year. That means there has been a tendency for house prices on this measure to rise faster than consumer prices. There are two basic reasons. First, houses are getting ‘better’ (bigger, lower maintenance, better designed …). Second land prices (which are included in the total house price) rise relative to inflation as the best locations are valued increasingly greatly: Mark Twain said ‘Buy land, they’re not making it anymore’.

After 2002 the line leaps up, well above the trend. Indeed by end 2006 it is 50 percent above it, so a $450,000 house would have been only $300,000 had the trend continued.

The extraordinary jump is almost certainly due to the fiscal deficit that the Bush tax cuts and expenditure expansion (not only to fight in Iraq) began generating at that time. That meant the US government was injecting a lot of dollars into the world economy. One of the places the increased liquidity leaked into were housing markets throughout the world, including New Zealand’s. People could borrow reasonably easily, and they did, lifting housing prices. This generated nominal capital gains which people speculated on, lifting the housing prices further, and so we got the speculative bubble which the graph demonstrates.

It cant go on upwards indefinitely, and as Stein’s law says, ‘If it can’t last, it won’t.’ There are two immediate problems. House prices have risen so far, that it is becoming increasingly difficult for new house buyers to purchase. Moreover, house rents have not risen to the same extent so that those into investment housing are struggling to find cover their outgoings from the rental incomings.

Moreover, the graph seems to suggest from mid-2006 the spectacular capital gains period may be over.

What might happen in the future? First if the graph flattens out (so that house prices rise at the same rate as consumer inflation), the trend line catches up in about 2023. If they flatten out in nominal terms. assuming consumer inflation of 2.5 percent p.a. the trend-line gets to the graph in about 2015, which is still a long way off.

These are just assumptions, not predictions, but they give you a sense of just how unusual the new situation is. Any forecaster has to be very cautious. It is true that house prices have fallen in the past, but never for long – and never dramatically. The biggest nominal fall on record is 3.5 percent in the six quarters between third quarter 1990 and first quarter 1992. There have been practical reasons why house prices did not fall rapidly: rather it takes a longer time to sell a house during a mild slump. (Remember that the house price index is not perfect, and does not adjust for improving housing quality so the quality adjusted fall is a bit more.)

But these are unusual times so past experience may not be too relevant. Focussing on the local housing market may miss the point. The situation is generated by the US fiscal deficit. The increased world liquidity is distorting other parts of the world economy. Recall that the Reagan deficits caused havoc in the world economy in the 1990s after Reagan had gone with a number of economies in deep financial strife: Argentina, Brazil, Indonesia, Korea, Mexico, Russia, Thailand, Turkey. The next round of financial stress may be companies rather than countries, we just cant tell. And we cant rule out that the bust will precipitated by the housing market in the US, which does not look healthy, even by New Zealand standards. But we just dont know.

Economists’ advice is hardly worth taking. but for what it is worth, I’d have thought it is something like dont overburden yourself with debt. That may mean deferring first house purchase (it may be better to rent and lock regular savings into the Kiwsaver scheme which starts in July), and if you are overburdened – struggling already to pay, or would struggle if interest rates went up further or your income fell a bit, then see what you can do to reduce the debt, including contemplating cutting back your consumption and saving more.

But as Leonard Cohen sang
Now you can say that I’ve grown bitter, but of this, you may be sure:
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor,
and there’s a mighty judgment coming – but I could be wrong.
You see, you hear these funny voices in the tower of song.

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