Saturday 27 November 2021

COVID gave us a once-in-a-lifetime natural experiment — but Scott Morrison has turned his back on the lessons.

Extract from ABC News

Analysis

By Laura Tingle
Posted 
A side-profile photo of Scott Morrison, wearing a hi-vis vest and white hard hat.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison during a visit to the Western Sydney Airport in Sydney, Friday, November 19, 2021. (AAP: Dean Lewins)
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The 2021 Nobel Prize in Economics was awarded last month to three economists for their work on what are called natural experiments: the real-world equivalent of a laboratory experiment.

Economist Andrew Charlton reflected on the great value of such natural experiments when he spoke at the National Press Club in Canberra last week.

He reflected on what we had learnt about economics as the COVID-19 pandemic became a once-in-a-lifetime natural experiment "that taught us a lot about economics in Australia, and particularly about poverty in Australia".

"We did things in the pandemic that we would never ordinarily do," he said. "And the consequences of those decisions enabled us to learn things that we would never ordinarily learn."

People wait in a Centrelink queue in the Sydney suburb of Marrickville.

The pandemic taught us many lessons — particularly about poverty in Australia. (ABC News)

At the end of another profoundly depressing week in the theatre of Australian politics — in which our Prime Minister once again demonstrated that he didn't seem to have learned the value of just telling the truth upfront and instead got himself into a world of pain of having to repeatedly correct the record in parliament — it is worth reflecting on some of those real-world lessons, and what they should be prompting our political leaders to contemplate.

A real-life experiment

One of the major lessons Charlton says we learned from this once-in-a-lifetime natural experiment was about unemployment benefits.

He pointed out the long-running debate between those who note the benefits are not enough to live on — and thus force those relying on them to live in poverty — and those who argue that you can't lift the rate because the unemployed may fritter the money away and be less inclined to work.

Imagine if we could have a natural experiment, Charlton said, that suddenly allowed us, overnight, to have a big increase in the unemployment benefit and observe the consequences.

And this is precisely what happened when unemployment benefits were doubled with the coronavirus supplement.

Some of the research Charlton's firm, Accenture, has been doing during the pandemic has been to track — with permission — the spending of more than 250,000 Australians from their bank accounts, which enabled them to "observe the actual spending of people who received extra money".

"The data is clear," he reported, "of the extra $550 a fortnight — the Coronavirus Supplement — the largest amount, $85, was spent on household bills, electricity, phone, water; $70 of that extra money was spent on food; around $60 was spent on clothing and household goods; around $175 was saved or used to pay down debt."

"What we saw is that for the people who received that extra money, it was life-changing. Hundreds of thousands of people were lifted out of poverty.

"They didn't spend that money on frivolous or discretionary items. They didn't withdraw from the labour market. They spent it well on their families and bills.

"And they spent it quickly, which made it a good stimulus that's supported the economy."

Groceries in paper shopping bags on floor

When unemployment benefits were doubled, most people sent it on essential items like groceries, bills, and household goods. (Unsplash: Maria Lin Kim)

So what have we done with the lessons such a once-in-a-lifetime experiment gave us? We turned our backs on it.

As soon as it was humanly possible, the government halved the unemployment benefit rate again, citing the need for fiscal discipline and arguing governments could not continue to provide support indefinitely.

We couldn't afford the $20 billion cost of this support, even as evidence emerged that we had squandered an amount variously estimated as the same, or twice that much, in JobKeeper wage subsidies paid to companies which, it turned out, didn't need it or used it to pay for other things like bonuses to chief executives.

Ignoring the bigger lessons

There have, of course, been lots of other lessons about what governments do — badly and well — from the pandemic.

But Charlton's example of what we can learn from doubling the unemployment benefit is just one that raises the question of just how strange it is that the Morrison Government's whole political strategy, at the moment, is based on dissing what governments have done.

Sure, the Prime Minister's rhetoric about Australians having had a gutful of governments in their lives is designed to exploit anger about state-imposed social restrictions.

But at a time when the government could be taking credit for the things it did which helped people stave off financial catastrophe, it is consigning all of that to history.

We did all of that and it was great, the argument goes, but now it is time to withdraw.

It might have an appeal to a particular group of voters. But it is hard not to think it ignores the bigger lessons we have learned over the past two years, and that, just maybe, we should be applying them, beyond the realm of the political 'grab'.

Things like recognising the importance of our health and hospital system; parents coming to truly, truly value the contributions of our teachers and child care systems, to name just a few.

The Prime Minister holds a phone up to take a selfie with workers in high-visibility vests while inside a tunnel.

The government's vision for a post-pandemic Australia is caught daily in the hi-vis, hard hat photo opportunities.(Twitter: Dom Perrottet)

Not only is the Coalition trying to capitalise on disaffection with government social restrictions, the imagery of its vision for a post-pandemic Australia is caught daily in the hi-vis, hard hat photo opportunities which have made such clothing the standard uniform issued to our Prime Minister by many of our most prominent cartoonists.

Yet, as another speaker at the National Press Club this week pointed out, it is not infrastructure of the road and rail type that has been found most wanting in this pandemic, or which necessarily needs the most attention.

A different perspective

Sam Mostyn is the president of Chief Executive Women. Her board roles have and do include positions such as chair of Citi Australia, the Foundation for Young Australians, Ausfilm, Alberts, Mirvac, Transurban, the Centre for Policy Development and the Sydney Swans.

She had a different view of what the post-pandemic path should look like.

"We are already moving quickly into a federal election campaign in which visual cues of hard hats and construction sites are accepted as the most powerful way of representing the value of jobs and infrastructure," she said.

A woman with blond hair, glasses and a black shirt and jacket.

The president of Chief Executive Women, Sam Mostyn, has a different perspective on what Australia should look like post-pandemic. (ABC News)

"But there is a huge disconnect in this visual and spoken language — and the policies and mindset that drive this language — with the lived experience of millions of Australians, both women and men, but particularly women.

"We all travel on roads, but what is the infrastructure that has kept us alive and together through this pandemic? It is the human and social infrastructure of the care economy, one that is powered by women who are often underpaid, if they're paid at all."

The glaring lesson of the pandemic, which our political discourse is yet to really deal with, is that it has highlighted all sorts of market failures, the need for all sorts of interventions in our economy, particularly when it comes to wages and the provision of government services.

But advocating loudly and clearly for these seems beyond a political class that has grown up speaking for decades only in the language of small government.

Laura Tingle is 7.30's chief political correspondent.

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