Friday, 14 September 2012

How Public Debt Builds The Queensland Economy


THIS WEEK has seen one framework of political rhetoric usurped by another in Queensland.  The conservative refrain of “no spending, no debt” has been swamped by the Labor language of “jobs jobs and jobs”.

Can the shock-horror rhetoric about debt last much longer?   The reality is that heavy debt has always been a feature of the Queensland government, and always will be.

 Developing the State through Debt
Ever since Queensland became Queensland in 1859, politicians of all ideological hues have borrowed heavily.  We’ve had no choice: it is the only way to fund infrastructure development in this decentralised state.

The biggest transport infrastructure project Queensland had for about a hundred years was the colonial railways.  I wrote previously that from 1887 to 1883, the Queensland government splurged on rail, borrowing £7 million to construct 3,000 kilometres of it.

We had the highest per capita debt in the British Empire.  And it wasn’t just railways that made us scrape out the public purse down to its silk lining.

For over a hundred years, Queensland politicians spent up big on ports and maritime infrastructure.  Colonial governments established ports at Gladstone, Bowen, Rockhampton and Mackay.  They set up harbour boards and directed public funds to clear rivers, and to dredge sandbars and mudflats.  

The spending of public money to gouge out shipping channels, raise wharves and build ports was a passion for our early politicians.  After all, most were pastoralists, and their private fortune depended on this public expenditure.

Freudian Analysis Needed For Tunnel Fascination.
The creation of transport infrastructure through public debt was not just a colonial fixation.  In the 21st century, the railway mania has been replaced by a tunnel obsession.

At Brisbane City Council under Campbell Newman, debt has reached $2.1 billion whilst revenue sits at $2 billion.  Professor John Quiggins points out that is a debt / revenue ratio of over 100%, a rate that Peter Costello said is unacceptable for a state government.

Until recently, few have raised a squeak about the debt burden taken on to build transport infrastructure.  The whole wealth of Queensland is literally dependent on it.  At one stage in the 19th century, the pastoral industry accounted for 95% of our economy.   Queensland wealth and society hinged on transporting beef and wool out of the state.

Our economy didn’t ride on the sheep’s back – it rode out in the cattle trucks and into the holds of steam ships.  Today it rides down a conveyer belt and into a steel hull.

Paying Off Debt: How We've Always Done It.
Now, that’s a romantic image that works well to explain state debt and our economic history.  But it doesn’t stick in the public psyche like the image of a maxed-out credit card, a much easier grasped picture.

And the question evoked by that image and mental frame is this: how we are going to pay off our loans, Pa?

The answer in real-life economic terms is this: the same way we always have, son.  We exploit our resources and land.  Whenever Queensland has needed more revenue, we have squeezed it out of industry based on our natural resources, and opened up a seemingly endless supply of land for housing and industry.

The mental frame and popular rhetoric of debt as a household problem won’t disappear.  It works too effectively, and conservative politicians know it resonates deeply.

But it may be tempered by a competing narrative of “jobs first”, and maybe even a bit of historic economic reality.

References:
Raymond Evans, "A History of Queensland", Cambridge Press.
J Laverty, "The Queensland Economy 1860-1915" in Murphy, Joyce and Hughes, "Prelude to Power", Jacaranda Press.





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Friday, 7 September 2012

Will "The West Wing" Become Real Life in 2016?


SOMEWHERE IN the crowd at the Democratic National Convention is the next Democratic Presidential nominee.  Not Barack Obama: the person who will follow him in 2016.

And I think I have seen him in the crowd.  He keeps showing up in footage from the Convention, sometimes standing conspicuously near political stars and elder statesmen.

His name is Julian Castro and he is the 37 year old mayor of San Antonio in Texas, the seventh largest city in the USA.

What every candidate needs: teeth, great hair and a flag.
I discovered him a year ago, when his Facebook page was recommended to me as a Facebook template for an aspiring Mayor.  He is photogenic, intelligent, charismatic and hard working.  And obviously Hispanic.

No wonder he is being labelled “the next Obama”.

Now the prince’s crown is being set upon his head.  Julian Castro addressed the Democratic Convention a couple of days ago, just like Barack Obama did in 2004.  Just like Jack Kennedy did in 1956.

His story, his narrative, looks good for a Presidential nominee.  He grew up in trying circumstances, raised by a single mother, and came out of a tough neighbourhood to go to Harvard Law School.

Having the name “Castro” shouldn’t be a burden for the San Antonio Mayor.  An odd, jarring name didn’t stop the current resident of the White House.  Still, you could safely bet Julian Castro will not be photographed wearing a beard or smoking a Cuban cigar.

What adds to his narrative is that he has a twin brother, Joaquin, who is running for the US Congress.  That makes for a new twist and fresh images in a political discourse hungry for new sensations.

Julian Castro at the DNC.  Photo Pat Sullivan AP
And there is a resemblance of his story to that of Matt Santos, the fictional “West Wing” character who became the first Latino President after Jed Bartlett.

With so many “West Wing” fans running politics behind the scenes all over the world, you start to wonder if they secretly fantasize about being Josh Lyman and taking Matt Santos / Julian Castro to the White House.

The succession of Julian Castro to the Oval Office may not come to pass.  But someone has to be the next President.  And Julian Castro looks good for it. 

Click her for a Daily News Article about Julian Castro.

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Friday, 31 August 2012

Why Leaf Blowers Vex Me


NOT FAR from me lives a man who slouches out from behind his remote controlled garage door, pulls out his petrol-driven leaf blower, and chases all the errant leaves off his driveway.

It is not the motorbike howl of the leaf blower that irks and bothers me.

It is not the fact that the leaves are simply left on the road for a publicly funded street sweeper to clean up what is a privately generated mess.

It is the fact that he is using petrol when a simple broom will do.  Hey big fellah!  A rake was good enough for your Dad and Grand-dad.

Peoples: treat oil with more respect.  It is an incredibly rare resource.

Brewing up in the Oil Kitchen
Pour some new motor oil into a jar at home and hold it up to the light.  Look carefully at it. You are looking at a very old and unique creation, the remains of living creatures that were alive millions of years ago.

These tiny organisms were plankton and algae that bloomed in the shallow prehistoric lakes and oceans between 300 million and 30 million years ago.  When they died, they formed an organic mat on the muddy floor, and their fats and oils formed what we call kerogen.

Oil will only happen if kerogen-soaked mud becomes rock, and is covered by dried salt from evaporated oceans, or a rock blanket is folded over it by movements in the Earth’s crust.

Once trapped by this cover, kerogen has to be cooked under pressure by the Earth’s natural heat to become oil.  But it has to be trapped between 7,000 and 15,000 feet.

Any lower and it is too hot.  The kerogen gets cooked into methane and drifts away.  Any higher, and it isn’t hot enough.  This zone is the oil window, the oil kitchen.

More Layers than a Baklava
The special circumstances that create oil must keep coming.  The pressure that cooked the oil then forces it upwards.  But it can only reach us if the kerogen-rich rock is permeable, and there are fissures and cracks in the rock above to aid it on its way.

And then there has to be the right shaped, uncracked layer of clay, stone or salt higher up.  It must trap the oil in a nice, cup shaped reservoir.  If that’s not there, the oil simply dissipates.

As you can see, oil is a geological freak of nature.  There are only 600 places round the world where it has been created.

What makes this unique resource extraordinarily valuable is the energy it contains.  The energy in one barrel of oil is equal to the energy expended by five labourers working 12 hours a day for a year

So when we hold up that jar of motor oil to the light, and see the amber glint, we would do well to remember how lucky we are to have it.

Oil is as rare as gold, but we do not treat it with respect.  Think about that next time you see someone using petrol-driven leaf blower, instead of a rake.
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Friday, 24 August 2012

Brisbane's Public Servants: Marching Since 1824


IT'S BEEN Marching Week in Queensland politics!  The images dominating the political playbook are that of public servants marching, shouting, waving placards and, erm, their boots.

That’s followed by images of the State Treasurer with an air of worry, saying “we’re sorry, we had to let all these people go”.  I think his worried countenance is for real, and is poll-induced.

Question: why are public servants mobilising so visibly? Why is Brisbane appalled on their behalf?   

Answer: Brisbane has always been a public servant town, from its earliest days.

Thanks to "A History of Queensland" by Raymond Evans.

Getting rid of public service jobs undermines a very old part of Brisbane’s character, for the public service is a long-established segment of Brisbane’s economy.
Our First (Reluctant) Public Servants.
From 1824, Brisbane was constructed by those most unwilling of public servants – the convicts and the soldiers who guarded them.  Brisbane was a prison they had to construct themselves.

It was the convicts who provided all of Brisbane’s early labour and constructed its infrastructure.

They carved the rocks out of the Kangaroo Point cliffs, cleared hundreds of hectares of land, then tilled it by hand.  They even built a 1.2 kilometre palisade, five metres high, around the grain depot and Women’s Factory at Eagle Farm.

It was the start of a pattern where the state provided the funds and labour to make Brisbane.  There was an expectation and a necessity that the public purse would provide.

And the Crown did provide that labour, right through to the 1850’s.  In 1852, 35% of all white males in the colony were still ex-convicts and ticket of leave men. 

Horses and Cattle: Keep Them Beasties Moving.
From the 1850's, the pastoral industry dominated the Queensland economy, but it relied on these unwilling public servants to be the labour for their capital ventures.  The Leslie brothers on the Darling Downs needed 27 convicts in their workforce.

Another form of public servant did more to secure the future of the pastoral industry than any other group.  This was the Queensland Native Mounted Police.

The Mounted Police was the military arm of the Queensland government.  It “quietened” vast areas of Queensland and made it safe for cattle and sheep.  They were young men who were brutally effective, and were brutalised in return.

It was in the latter half of the 19th Century when the utter reliance on public service expenditure to build this city and this state really took off.

The huge wave of migration to Brisbane was a public service venture.  Three quarters of all public money spent on assisted migration in Australia was spent on Queensland migrants.  And there were 114,000 of them between 1860 and 1879.

It was a time of boom and bust, and a secure public service job would have been the goal of many of the migrants who lurched off the ships.

How Queensland (and its Pounds) Were Railroaded.
And then the public purse was really opened wide, its gullet exposed red raw, to provide the finance to make Queensland’s infrastructure.  From 1887 to 1883, the Queensland government splurged on colonial railways, borrowing 7 million pounds to construct a shining 3,000 kilometres of it. 

We had the highest per capita debit in the British Empire. And not a Labor politician in sight.

Yet if the government didn’t do it, the railways would not have been built.  The pastoral industry would not have happened, nor Brisbane’s tea-stained ochre buildings been constructed, without public servants.

So we have the expectation that government jobs would be at the centre of the Queensland economy and its capital city.  There was an expectation that the Queensland government would cough up its pennies and pounds to provide the workers and the infrastructure.

For the LNP government to undermine public service jobs, they are undermining the social expectation of many workers in this fair city, as well as a very old strand in Brisbane’s economy.

And that is why you get lines of ambos, firies, teachers and other respectable Brisbane residents lining up and throwing their boots at Parliament House.  We are as big a public service town as Canberra.

* Thanks to Raymond Evan's "A History of Queensland".  If you love this State, read this book.*

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