Saturday, December 7, 2024

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I’ve got a little list

In Gilbert and Sullivan’s opera The Mikado, the character Ko-Ko is appointed to the position of Lord High Executioner. He prepares a list of people to be executed, singing: “I’ve got a little list. They’d really not be missed.”

I’ve often thought this should be the way we deal with those responsible for Australia’s tragic response to the Covid hysteria. I have a list, and I really don’t believe those on it would be missed. The question is, is it more than a fantasy? 

A Royal Commission is regularly mentioned as the best way to bring guilty politicians, bureaucrats, and other officials to account. Royal Commissions certainly have broad investigative powers, but they cannot decide guilt or innocence. They can only make recommendations. 

A Royal Commission is only as good as its terms of reference, which are written by the government. There is an unwritten rule on that – only establish an inquiry when the outcome is either already known or won’t do great harm to the government.  

There is also a problem with jurisdiction. A Commission established by the Commonwealth is limited to investigating federal issues. That would include international border closures, repatriating Australians, vaccine ordering, the vaccine rollout, use of troops, and the advice of the Commonwealth Health Officer and health agencies. It could also look at what the federal government failed to do, such as follow its own pandemic plan or challenge the states’ border closures. 

Do the crimes perpetrated by our public health officials, politicians and others meet that standard of severity?

It would require a state-initiated Royal Commission to investigate the policies and actions of state governments. That includes the medical advice to justify state border closures, compulsory masks, curfews, lockdowns, other movement restrictions, the Covid zero fantasy, the separation of families, business closures, mandatory vaccination, and of course vaccine certificates. 

Only a state Royal Commission could consider whether the loss of basic rights such as free speech, freedom of religion and the right to peaceful protest, or the suspension of parliament, were reasonable and proportionate. And unless the terms of reference were specific, the behaviour of state police would not be considered. 

There is also a question of competence. Commissioners are generally retired judges; that is, elderly lawyers. A career as a barrister and judge is not necessarily a sound qualification for investigating complex non-legal issues. From my observation such people mostly don’t understand business or economics, and expecting them to come to grips with epidemiology and immunology might be optimistic. Add the possibility that they will overestimate the risk given their personal vulnerability to Covid, and an objective review is far from certain.  

But let’s assume, for the sake of the fantasy, that a Royal Commission with broad terms of reference was established that is brave, competent, and thorough. Let’s even assume it is a joint federal-state commission. What might it achieve? 

In my fantasy, it would name those responsible for doing so much damage to our liberal democracy, and spell out the crimes they committed. The patronising, sanctimonious, unscientific Chief Health Officers. The cynical, manipulative political leaders. The lying propagandists and political boosters. The cowardly, craven media. The senior police who sanctioned brutal repression of protests.  

It would also offer a strong reminder of the fundamentals of a free society: that freedom and safety are not interchangeable; that personal responsibility should always trump government control; that avoiding deaths at any cost is not the role of the government; that executive government must be accountable to parliament.  And perhaps most importantly, that those who violate these principles must pay a price. 

A Royal Commission is regularly mentioned as the best way to bring guilty politicians, bureaucrats, and other officials to account.

Notwithstanding some indications to the contrary, particularly in Victoria, Australia is still subject to the rule of law.  An adverse mention by a Royal Commission might end a political or bureaucratic career, but it is not a conviction. And the reality is that virtually everything inflicted on Australians in the name of controlling Covid occurred within the law. Other than a few Victorian police perhaps, none of those named would be at risk of going to jail.

Some say this calls for a special tribunal, like that used to try senior Nazis at Nuremburg. This applied the principle that some things can never be legal or right, whether or not they were within the law at the time. That same concept underpins the International Criminal Court. 

Do the crimes perpetrated by our public health officials, politicians and others meet that standard of severity? No doubt they inflicted needless suffering and misery on millions of their fellow Australians, imposing irrational and arbitrary rules with heartless brutality. And while they claim to have saved deaths from Covid, they contributed to others from suicide and untreated conditions, and caused profound harm to countless careers, businesses, marriages, and childhoods. 

The crimes that the International Criminal Court may consider are genocide, war crimes, crimes of aggression, and crimes against humanity. The world’s longest lockdown certainly felt like a crime against humanity to Victorians, and it would be satisfying to hear the former Premier and Chief Health Officer argue, in their defence, why family visits were prohibited but not visiting brothels; why council gardeners could work but not private gardeners; and why the Black Lives Matter protest was not a superspreader event unlike anti-lockdown protests and watching a sunset from the beach. 

But that’s where the fantasy ends. A Nuremburg-style trial, even if it is warranted, would require special legislation. And a Royal Commission, even if established, is not likely to do no more than offer half-baked recommendations about preparing for the next pandemic. 

Perhaps even worse, the pandemic showed that the commitment of Australians to democracy and freedom is wafer thin. They readily relinquished their rights and freedoms based on fear of a disease with a survival rate of 98 per cent, in the belief that the government would keep them safe.  

This is a problem that will not be solved by a Royal Commission or Nuremburg type tribunal. Indeed, it would not be solved by making me Lord High Executioner and allowing me to deal with those on my list. It is a reflection of who we are as a nation.

How much should we pay our pollies?

Among the many criticisms of politicians that I heard during my time as a Senator, the accusation that they are only in it for the pay and perks, looking after themselves rather than the country and voters, was one of the most common. 

Sometimes this arose from dissatisfaction with certain politicians, but more often it reflected disdain for them all. Many Australians are convinced politicians are paid far more than they are worth. 

I am inclined to agree. 

This prompts the question – should politicians be paid at all? Should we treat parliamentary service as a career, as we do now, or as a form of public service necessitating an element of sacrifice? And if politicians are to be paid, what is an appropriate amount? 

Not paying politicians would change the types of people who offer themselves for election

In democracy’s ancient home, Athens, eligible citizens all had a civic duty to participate in the governing assembly. There was no salary, although in the 5th century BC an attendance fee was introduced as an incentive. 

In the British parliament, on which our democracy is based, service in the House of Commons was unpaid until 1911. Members of the House of Lords, who are mostly appointed, are still unpaid unless they hold an official position. They can claim an attendance allowance plus limited travel expenses, although many do not bother. 

Politicians in several US states receive little or no pay for their service. In New Hampshire, for example, state legislators are paid just $200 for their two-year term plus mileage. In Maine, Kansas, Wyoming and New Mexico, state politicians are paid less than what Australian local government councillors receive. 

It’s different for heads of government, most of whom are well paid. Top of the list is the prime minister of Singapore, at more than a million dollars and over five times the pay of ordinary MPs. By comparison Australia is rather egalitarian; our government leaders are only paid about double what ordinary politicians receive. 

But it is the pay of ordinary politicians that agitates people, and on that Australia is generous. A backbench member of the Federal Parliament receives a package (i.e. salary, allowances and superannuation) of at least $280,000. State politicians’ salaries tend to be only slightly lower. 

This is far more than what most of them earned before getting elected and, more importantly, is much more than what they could earn if they lost their seat. This has a powerful effect on their behaviour. 

Not paying politicians would change the types of people who offer themselves for election. In the case of New Hampshire, around half the members of the legislature are retired, with an average age of 58. 

Politicians in several US states receive little or no pay for their service.

Perhaps it is reasonable they be paid something. Being a senator can be extremely busy, as I found. There are not only long days in Canberra but also committee hearings and an endless stream of people seeking help. Most politicians treat it as a full-time job and their salary is their sole source of income. 

But that need not be the case. While the workload for key ministers is typically substantial, ordinary MPs have considerable time-flexibility. Indeed, some undertake additional study or write a book, while a few maintain a professional interest (such as doctors) or remain involved in an outside business (as I did). 

More to the point, a great deal of the activity of politicians is designed to help them get re-elected. Being paid a handsome salary with generous expenses while doing this gives them a significant advantage over their unelected competitors. 

The reason for entering politics ought to be service to the country rather than a lucrative professional career. It should attract people who have achieved more than navigated their way through a party, worked for existing politicians, and manipulated numbers to gain preselection. Politicians should also have a life outside politics that ensures they are not desperate to be re-elected. 

It is difficult to see how political service is substantially any different from serving on the board of a charity or other non-profit organisation, for which there is reimbursement of expenses and possibly an attendance fee. It should ideally be no better paid than any other job an incumbent is likely to achieve. 

And, of course, service in politics should be viewed as a temporary role that will end. And when it does, there should be something to go back to. 

The Dangerous Use of the Military

Ever since the Romans, standing armies have been viewed with deep suspicion. They are expensive to maintain, which often leads to onerous taxation, and they have an appalling record as instruments of oppression. 

In Blackstone’s 1768 Commentaries on the Laws of England, Henry St. George Tucker wrote: “Wherever standing armies are kept up, and when the right of the people to keep and bear arms is, under any colour or pretext whatsoever, prohibited, liberty, if not already annihilated, is on the brink of destruction.”

America’s founding fathers were of the same opinion. Having freed themselves of British military tyranny, they were in no hurry to suffer the same fate at the hands of their own government. Alexander Hamilton thought Congress should vote every two years “upon the propriety of keeping a military force on foot”, while Thomas Jefferson suggested the Greeks and Romans were wise “to put into the hands of their rulers no such engine of oppression as a standing army.” James Madison wrote: “Throughout all Europe, the armies kept up under the pretext of defending, have enslaved the people.”

Standing armies remain a threat to liberty, much as they were in the time of the Romans.

In the twentieth century, with the growth in technology, a well-trained professional military became difficult to avoid. Some democracies, Switzerland being a well-known example, created a small full-time professional core but retained its reliance on citizen militia. Most others sought to limit the use of the military to national defence. Every dictatorship, by contrast, has used its military to retain power. 

Our Australian Defence Force, while not enjoying the status of the military in Israel or America, nonetheless has widespread community support. It is also seen as professional and competent, if seriously under equipped, with no political agenda other than a growing trend towards wokeness. 

Its role is also notionally limited to national defence, despite occasionally getting involved in such things as delivering relief supplies, erecting field hospitals or evacuating those affected by natural disasters. This is reinforced by the constitution, which nominates the Governor-General as commander in chief, not the Prime Minister, Defence Minister or state premiers.

But things have changed over the last few years. The ADF has not only provided logistics support during major bushfires, but has also engaged with police in traffic control. And during the Covid restrictions it worked alongside police to enforce border closures and quarantine and, in Victoria, to enforce a prolonged severe lockdown. A very important line was crossed.

Sections 92 and 117 of the constitution guarantee free movement of people and trade between the states. Although the High Court decided to allow WA’s border closures during the Covid period, many legal scholars believe it could go the other way in a similar case. For the ADF to have helped enforce border closures that might be unconstitutional is a particularly serious concern. 

Our Australian Defence Force, while not enjoying the status of the military in Israel or America, nonetheless has widespread community support.

As for Victoria’s lockdowns, the implications for the ADF were worse by an order of magnitude. With the authority of a state of emergency, Victorian police were given extremely wide powers including the right to enter premises without a warrant, to enforce rules on exercise, working from home, wearing a mask, home quarantine, distance from home and essential work.  

They attacked people walking peacefully and socially distanced, questioned and threatened those who post on Facebook about going walking, broke down doors and arrested those who advocated protests about the loss of freedom, and selectively arrested those who actually protested. Moreover, much of this occurred with a degree of thuggish enthusiasm that would be familiar to any of the last century’s dictators. 

The only reason the police were able to do all this was because of the broad backup provided by the ADF. They could never have done it without them.

The ADF needs to focus on its national defence role. Indeed, given the worsening situation with China, that ought to be its only purpose. Perhaps it might have a role occasionally in providing relief during emergencies, but it should have absolutely no role in law enforcement, even indirectly. 

Standing armies remain a threat to liberty, much as they were in the time of the Romans. We should not tolerate the ADF diminishing our liberty.

Freedom, Moral Norms and the State

Are moral norms compatible with individual freedoms? The answer should be an obvious “yes”, yet in Western liberal democracies like Australia there appears to be growing doubt, confusion and uncertainty. A society that permits individual freedoms necessarily results in moral pluralism. Moral pluralism, in turn, manifests in the existence of diverse moral norms, which is to say moral speech and practices that not only diverge, but conflict. Add migration and a policy of multiculturalism to individual freedoms, and a society characterised by a high degree of normative moral pluralism is assured. This is precisely what has occurred in Australia. 

Until recently, this kind of moral diversity (cloaked in the language of cultural diversity) was a cause for celebration, at least by Australia’s urbane, educated elite. Today, that same elite increasingly regards moral diversity as something threatening and harmful. Individuals and groups that find moral criticism, which is to say moral diversity, confronting, challenging and offensive, now demand protection from the “harmful” moral speech and practices of others. That is, they demand the state involve itself in matters of moral conflict amongst citizens. 

The clamour for state intervention in the arbitration, policing and implementation of moral norms is particularly evident in the culture war. Progressive and conservative protagonists in this putative “war” appear to agree on at least one thing: moral differences are political problems that ultimately can only be resolved via the “social apparatus of coercion and compulsion,” to use Ludwig von Mises’s description of the state. 

To treat the state as the arbiter of the conflicting moral beliefs found amongst its citizens is to turn moral difference into political conflict. 

Once the state is deemed to be the appropriate apparatus for arbitrating moral disputes between citizens, it becomes a political prize worth fighting for among those engaged in moral dispute precisely for the fact that it promises to place immense coercive powers in the hands of its victor. In this way the state becomes a tool for implementing a unitary moral vision through the prohibition and suppression of alternative moral norms deemed unpalatable. 

If gaining control of the social apparatus that is the state proves unattainable, its organs can always be lobbied and pressured to further the culture warrior’s moral agenda through legislation, litigation, appointments and funding decisions. Failing that, those seeking to vanquish their moral enemies can employ what John Stuart Mill termed “social tyranny” to hound, harass, troll and ultimately cancel moral heretics. 

The tragedy of the culture wars is how little is at stake in the issues at the centre of the conflict versus how much is at stake in the statist aims and ambitions of the warring parties. Instead of enlisting the state and its courts to sue a Christian baker who refuses to bake an LGBTQ-themed cake for a same-sex couple, the couple could simply procure their desired cake from another business and move on with their lives. 

Similarly, instead of hyperventilating about drag queen story hour in cities thousands of miles away from their home and clamouring for the state to intervene to ban them, offended conservatives could simply exercise their freedom to not attend such events and, again, move on with their lives. In fact, there is nothing to prevent either party from publicly expressing their respective displeasure at the other with as much vim and vigour as they see fit. There is wide scope for spleens to be vented in a free society.

But increasingly, people seem to be incapable of living comfortably in a society containing individuals who adhere to moral norms that clash or conflict with their own, particularly the young people we have managed to transform into nervous wrecks, in no small part because we do not instil in them the resilience that is required to live in the midst of pluralism, along with the inevitable conflict and criticism that comes with the territory. What’s worse, growing numbers seem to be affronted by the very idea that society would even permit individuals the freedom to articulate and practice moral norms they deem to be objectionable. 

The problem, of course, as stated earlier, is that individual freedom unavoidably leads to moral pluralism, which guarantees that free citizens will have to tolerate moral difference, divergence and sometimes offense if they genuinely want to live in a free world. The alternative is moral authoritarianism, cloaked in the language of social justice, natural law or Biblical virtue. 

This brings us to libertarianism. Libertarianism has its own normative moral vision just like any other ideology. What distinguishes it, however, is that its moral vision is limited and aims specifically at fostering pluralism, not mitigating or eliminating it. “The libertarian creed rests upon one central axiom,” Murray Rothbard wrote in For a New Liberty, “that no man or group of men may aggress against the person or property of anyone else.” 

Moral pluralism, in turn, manifests in the existence of diverse moral norms, which is to say moral speech and practices that not only diverge, but conflict.

While more can be, and has been, said (and debated) about this central axiom, one encounters consensus among libertarians that the nonaggression principle is at the epicentre of libertarian moral norms. The limiting principle of nonaggression does two things in relation to morality. Firstly, it limits moral freedom to acts and practices that do not constitute aggression against other individuals. Secondly, it rules out any effort to impose, prohibit or suppress moral speech, acts or practices by using either violence or coercion, provided the speech, act or practice in question itself observes the nonaggression principle. 

Note that the libertarian nonaggression principle does not necessitate moral neutrality, agnosticism or relativism on the part of citizens. Well-defined and articulate moral norms—entire moral codes, for that matter—can be held and adhered to with as much passion and dogmatism as each citizen feels compelled to. They must simply respect the right of others to dissent, and then commit to not using violence or coercion to impose their moral dogma on others. Advocating, propagating, arguing, debating, persuading, cajoling, urging, pleading: none of these activities constitute violations of the nonaggression principle. 

Moral relativism is possible within a libertarian moral order. However, it is not demanded by it. Moral norms are compatible with the exercise of individual freedoms within the governing principle of nonaggression. The state, on the other hand, ought to adopt a disposition of neutrality and agnosticism in relation to moral questions and disputes that do not involve violations of the nonaggression principle. The moral role of the state is to protect citizens from aggression (this function is performed by protective associations in the private law society of anarcho-capitalism). The definition and boundaries of nonaggression are necessarily questions that the state must form a view about, for obvious reasons. What pronouns someone uses, what books children can read at school and what people are allowed to say publicly about the institution of marriage are not.

To treat the state as the arbiter of the conflicting moral beliefs found amongst its citizens is to turn moral difference into political conflict. This is both unnecessary and undesirable. And it is libertarians who should be sounding the alarm. All other political ideologies operate according to normative moral systems that are to be implemented for the common good, for the sake of divine injunction, to comply with the natural law or to bring into being some promised utopia. The liberation moral vision, in contrast, is designed to foster a free society that respects and protects moral diversity. A society that can tolerate diverse and even conflicting moral norms can afford to limit the scope of the state. A society that cannot tolerate moral diversity needs a large, powerful, interventionist state to sort out all its moral differences.

The Best Lack All Conviction

Anti-Semitism is on the march because no-one in authority will stand up to it.

It’s common for historians to portray the Sturmabteilung, the SA or “Brownshirts” as they were known, as a motley crew of rowdy young thugs looking to brawl. The reality, as detailed in Daniel Siemens’ Stormtroopers: A New History of Hitler’s Brownshirts, was far more concerning. In fact, the paramilitaries who propelled the fledgling Nazi party to absolute power were a million-member organization whose ranks included a disproportionately large group of university students and middle-class professionals (doctors, for example, were grossly over-represented in the Nazi membership).

In fact, the Nazis own propaganda lauded the “Workers of the Head and the Fist”. To that end, in 1926 the Nazis founded the National Socialist German Student League. The league was to foster ideological training at universities and to implement paramilitary training, and the ideal Nazi student was intended to be a man or woman of action, not an idle thinker.

The passage of the “Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service” on April 7, 1933, was the student Brownshirts’ license to put their training into action. Jews were quickly and violently driven from German universities, whether as students or academics. “Paramilitary student groups often interrupted lectures, provoked skirmishes, and physically intimidated Jewish students.” [W. B. Yeats, “The Second Coming”]

Even the Nazis knew that economic collapse, Versailles, even anti-Communism, were their best-selling points rather than anti-Semitism.

In 1934, the Nazi Student League took over the Student Union.

Is all of this sounding grimly familiar yet?

Highly organised, ideologically-motivated and, above all, viciously anti-Semitic student organisations are taking over university campuses once again. Jewish students and professors are verbally and physically assaulted. And campus authorities are either openly complicit, or spinelessly hopeless.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

If anyone is in doubt about the absolute moral swamp that Australia’s universities have become, as the vicious herd mentality of student activism reaches a dangerous pitch not seen in the West since the 1930s, consider what our million-dollar-a-year vice-chancellors are doing.

Worse than nothing.

Consider the “brave”, “forthright”, “line in the sand” statement by Western Sydney University chancellor Jennifer Westacott. In just 844 words, Westacott mentioned “anti-Semitism” five times and “Islamophobia/Islam” three times. The same double act runs through her anecdotes: 58 words, two sentences about visiting the Holocaust Museum; 67 words, three sentences dedicated to lauding Muslim “asylum seekers”.

Remember, this was supposed to be a forthright condemnation of campus anti-Semitism.

Instead, every time, it was “anti-Semitism and…” “Anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, or any form of abhorrent discrimination.” “Anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, racism, hate speech or intimidation.” “growing division and creeping anti-Semitism.” “hate speech and anti-Semitism.” “anti-Semitism and hate speech.”

One is left with the overwhelming impression that the crisis on university isn’t about anti-Semitism at all.

Why does an opinion piece posing as a beacon of moral clarity on campus anti-Semitism need to repeatedly add, “…and Islamophobia”? Is there an anti-Muslim camp on a single university in Australia, let alone the world? Are campuses hosting activists celebrating the murder of Muslims, and promising to visit future terror attacks on Muslims? Are Muslim students being attacked daily, physically and verbally?

We know perfectly well that the answer to all of those is, “no”.

So why the moral equivalence? 

And this is the best statement that any chancellor or vice-chancellor has yet made.

Everywhere we look to campus authorities for moral clarity, there is, at best, mealy-mouthed moral equivalence.

Jane Hansen, the chancellor of the University of Melbourne, Australia’s highest-ranked university, refuses to even acknowledge an anti-Semitism crisis. Instead, it’s the same gutless waffle about “many different forms of racism”. Worse, Hansen claims that even questioning supine university leaders is merely “looking for division”.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.

Ditto University of Sydney chancellor, Belinda Hutchinson.

This isn’t a “line in the sand”, it’s dragging a rotting jellyfish along the low-tide line, hoping the sharks won’t bite too hard.

I’ve often wondered what it must have been like for the average German, seeing your country slide, inch by inexorable inch, into anti-Semitic tyranny. I’m finding out in the worst possible way.

After all, even at its peak (curiously, perhaps, in the last year of WWII), only 12% of Germans were Nazi Party members. In the crucial years of the early 1930s, only 1% of Germans were members. Even among card-carrying Nazis, anti-Semitism was of little to no concern.

Academic Peter Merkl wrote an exhaustive study of the history of hundreds of foundational Nazis. He found that 33.3 per cent of them showed no interest in anti-Semitism, 14.3 per cent expressed “mild verbal clichés” regarding Jews, 19.1 per cent displayed “moderate” disdain for Jewish cultural influence in Germany, while only 12.9 per cent advocated “violent countermeasures” against Jews.

Even the Nazis knew that economic collapse, Versailles, even anti-Communism, were their best-selling points rather than anti-Semitism. In the years leading up to the crucial elections that finally propelled the Nazis to the point where they could seize power (even in 1932, the Nazis never won a majority; Hitler was appointed Chancellor in 1933, not democratically elected), even Hitler toned down the anti-Semitic rhetoric. By 1930, he “seldom spoke explicitly of Jews,” says historian Ian Kershaw.

The gambit, tragically, worked: of the thousands of Jews who fled Germany in 1933, 16,000 returned in 1934.

That’s how nations slide into murderous tyranny: one step at a time. Every outrage becomes anodyne, and the outrages escalate. One year, student activists are driving Jews from campus; four years later, Jewish businesses, synagogues and houses are trashed in an orgy of violence.

And it’s far from over. We all know what happened over the next decade.

Right now, we’re just at the “students trying to kick Jews off campus” stage. Where we go next depends in large part on the nation’s leadership.

Which, from academia to the floors of parliaments, is almost completely missing in action — or worse.

The Federal Government Should Deliver a Decade of Surpluses

A government’s balance sheet indicates whether it is engaging in intergenerational redistribution. If the government has negative net assets it is leaving future generations with more obligations than benefits. A government with positive net assets is leaving future generations with more benefits than obligations.

Governments have no advantages over individuals in making decisions about what to leave to future generations, so should leave those decisions to individuals. This means that governments should have zero net assets; their balance sheets should be balanced.

Governments in Australia do not have balanced balance sheets. The Commonwealth has a significantly negative net asset position and each of the states and territories has a significantly positive net asset position.

When it comes to setting fiscal policy, governments should ignore short-term Keynesian distractions, and focus on long-term intergenerational neutrality.

This is shown in Chart 1. It depicts public sector net asset positions relative to the size of the related economies. Commonwealth net assets are shown relative to Australia’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP), while each state or territory’s net assets are shown relative to the relevant state or territory’s Gross State Product (GSP). Each jurisdiction’s public sector includes government-owned businesses such as government-owned banks.

The Commonwealth’s negative net asset position means that it is choosing to leave future generations with obligations in excess of benefits. In essence, the Commonwealth Government has locked in benefits for future generations, like security from the military assets it has accumulated to date, but has racked up far greater obligations, like obligations to pay back Commonwealth debts and fund the superannuation of retired Commonwealth public servants. 

This decision of the Commonwealth Government to beggar the future is unlikely to represent the preference of Australians.

The Commonwealth Government’s intergenerational redistribution should stop, so as to leave intergenerational decisions to individuals. In other words, the Commonwealth Government should convert its negative net asset position to a zero net asset position.  This should be done through a decade of surplus budgets (or surplus ‘operating results’ to be more precise) of around 2 per cent of GDP. 

This could be readily achieved, for example by reducing Commonwealth Government transfers to the state and territory governments. These transfers are particularly odd given that each state and territory government is wealthier than the Commonwealth Government.

Each state and territory government’s positive net asset position means that it is choosing to leave future generations with benefits in excess of obligations. It is teeing up more benefits for future generations, like their enjoyment of public land holdings and use of infrastructure like roads, than it is racking up future obligations, like State Government debts and funding the superannuation of retired State public servants.

While leaving future generations with benefits in excess of obligations sounds nice, this is something that individuals are perfectly capable of doing without government.  

Governments have no advantages over individuals in making decisions about what to leave to future generations

And the current generation may well be of the view that the degree of generosity to future generations shown by each of the state and territory governments is excessive. If there is a difference of opinion between a government and the individuals it represents, then it is the government that is wrong. 

State and territory government intergenerational redistribution should be put to a stop by each government reducing its positive net asset position to net zero. This should be done through a decade of deficit budgets (or deficit ‘operating results’ to be more precise) of around 4 per cent of GDP on average.

Such deficits could be achieved by abolishing inefficient taxes like stamp duties, or by giving away assets. (Such give-aways count as losses that detract from the operating result.)

The biggest deficits should come from the wealthiest state governments, in Queensland and Victoria.

The wealth of the Victorian state government may come as a surprise. The Victorian state government has a stronger net asset position and a weaker net financial asset position than many of its counterparts (see Chart 2). It has done a lot of borrowing, which has weakened its net financial asset position, but it has done this to invest in non-financial assets.  Overall this generates a positive, or at least neutral, impact on net assets.

Unfortunately for the Victorian state government, credit rating agencies tend to ignore a government’s net assets and instead focus on its net financial assets. Even more stupidly, lenders take these credit ratings into account when lending to governments. If a state or territory government wanted to defend its credit rating so as to ensure continued access to low-cost borrowing, it could still run significant deficits in line with my recommendation. It would just need to achieve these deficits by giving away non-financial assets, like land, so as to leave its net financial asset position unchanged.

When it comes to setting fiscal policy, governments should ignore short-term Keynesian distractions, and focus on long-term intergenerational neutrality.

Can libertarianism become a brand in Australia?

Dean Russell, a staff member at The Foundation for Economic Education (FEE), was the first to propose that America’s classical liberals and individualists rebrand themselves as “libertarians.” In an article published by FEE in 1955, Russell wrote: “Let those of us who love liberty trade-mark and reserve for our use the good and honourable word ‘libertarian.’” 

That good and honourable term was actually coined, or at least first used in print, by William Belsham in 1789. At that time, and until its political repurposing by Russell, it denoted a distinct philosophical school in the context of debates about free will. The opponents of philosophical libertarians then were necessitarians.

The context for Russell’s proposal was the perversion of the term “liberal” in the American political context at the hands of big government New Deal interventionists. This development led to the rather awkward, and unusual, situation of political opponents using exactly the same language to define themselves. The libertarian rebrand was, if nothing else, an admission of defeat: the term “liberal” had been irredeemably corrupted in the eyes of American liberals who identified with the tradition of nineteenth century liberalism and the principles of the American revolution. Yet, it proved to be wildly successful and is now in wide usage by America’s liberty lovers in all their diversity and eccentricity. Indeed, there now exists a robust “libertarian” ecosystem in America, replete with think tanks, academics, journalists, magazines, personalities, the odd celebrity and a political party to boot.

The truth is that the liberalism rebranded libertarianism in America, and only belatedly in Australia

However, this linguistic turn, which proved so successful in the American context, has struggled to find relevance and application in other contexts like Australia. Here, “liberal” has stubbornly retained its nineteenth century brand connotations, if not its genuine ideological content. Thanks to the dominance of the Liberal Party as the right-hand pole in Australia’s bipolar political contest, the term “liberal” continues to evoke in the minds of many political consumers something right of centre, as amorphous, incoherent and ill-defined as that may be. This brand phenomenon has served as a bulwark against the kind of leftward semantic evolution that the term “liberal” underwent in early twentieth century America. 

Moreover, the most ambitious among those who now embrace the term “conservative” to describe their political identity still find the Liberal Party of Australia to be the most conducive vehicle for political influence, notwithstanding pressures and temptations from Australia’s motley collection of right-wing populist minor parties. As such, Australia’s Liberal Party boasts an influential conservative wing, described routinely in left-friendly media outlets as the “hard right” or “far right.” This association of the term “conservative” with “liberal,” let alone “hard right” with “liberal,” is an association that simply does not exist in the American political market. It is a peculiar distinctive of the Australian political landscape, a quirk, as it were. It does, however, provide yet further explanation for why the term “liberal” has resisted its American descent into the semantics of liberal progressivism, at least in the minds of the public, and through them the political vernacular of Australia 

The term “liberal” had been irredeemably corrupted in the eyes of American liberals

The fact that Australia’s most successful libertarian party was founded under the name Liberal Democrats in 2001 and only changed its name to the Libertarian party in 2023 speaks volumes about the fortunes of the term “liberal” in Australia (there were legal reasons to change the name). It speaks, on the one hand, to the classical liberal connotations of the term in Australia of 2001, the golden age of Howard’s Broad Church, with its putative synthesis of Millian liberalism and Burkean conservativism. Its name change, on the other hand, in an era in which so-called “moderate” liberals in the Liberal Party stand for woke-lite social policy and a slightly less interventionist economic policy than the Australian Labor Party, signals the final severance of the conjunction “classical” and “liberal in the Australian context, more than 200 years after it arrived in the Australian continent with European settlement, and 68 years after a libertarian rebrand in America. 

The Liberal Party is now constituted by incompatible liberal progressives and conservatives, neither of whom show any real interest in advancing the classical liberal cause. While an uneasy truce prevails following the sectarian civil war of the immediate past, they now inhabit a rather unhappy marriage of convenience. They sleep in separate bedrooms, but stay together for the sake of the kids, in this case the chance at electoral success. Meanwhile, Australia’s classical liberals have deserted the Liberal Party and thrown in their lot with Australia’s radical liberals to embrace, albeit with some consternation and anxiety, the label “libertarian.”

The challenge confronting Australia’s nascent libertarian movement, now that it has finally parted ways with the term “liberal,” is to galvanise Australia’s small but passionate band of liberty lovers around a term that is foreign to the Australian political lexicon. More challenging still, there is the task of cultivating a libertarian constituency that prizes and prioritises individual freedom, property rights, unhampered markets, limited government and peaceful international relations in a country whose founding mythos and national identity are not centred around the concept of liberty, as they are in America. The truth is that the liberalism rebranded libertarianism in America, and only belatedly in Australia, are different species of the genus “liberalism,” each with their own distinct origins, political histories and intellectual development. All political ideologies face a temptation in the Australian context to simply ape and regurgitate the loud, exciting and flamboyant political ideas and innovations that inevitably flow downstream from America to Australia. This is a particular temptation for Australia’s right-wing heirs of the liberal tradition who have recently chosen to embrace the language of the much more highly developed and institutionalised ecosystem in America. If libertarianism is to have any future at all in Australia, it will need to take inspiration from the best that American libertarianism has to offer and adapt, refine and develop it for the unique socio-political environment of Australia. 

Whose Ethics make it Ethical

When I started my business 35 years ago, very few investment funds were describing themselves as ethical investors. 

Some years later I joined an organisation of CEOs, business owners and senior executives that meets to share and discuss their challenges. I enjoyed our meetings right up until my group was required to listen to a speaker on ethics. When I asked for a definition of ethics and who decides what is ethical, I was told I was out of order.  Not long after that I was asked to leave the group. 

Some funds then began describing themselves as sustainable investors. I wrote a column about it, asking who defines sustainable, and has anyone ever knowingly invested in a company that was unsustainable? There were letters to the editor criticising me. 

It then became ESG, or Environmental, Social, and Governance. Still seeking definitions, I found it supposedly incorporates sustainable investing, responsible investing, impact investing and socially responsible investing. 

Australian agriculture often generates meagre returns on investment, but larger operations utilising modern technology do better.

I also found a claim that ESG criteria can “help investors avoid companies that might pose a greater financial risk due to their environmental or other practices.” That sounded like the focus was on financial performance, which is good, but in fact it was not the case. The more I looked, the more I found it was all just virtue signalling. 

Then came DEI, or Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, which is all about how many women, black or disabled people are on the payroll. Not just virtue signalling, but bragging about it.  

Funds that differentiate themselves like this are motivated by the desire to attract more investors and generate more fees for their managers. Furthermore, very few of those choosing to invest in these funds are using their own money; both the fund managers and their investors are deciding what is ethical or sustainable using other people’s money. 

The problem is, most ESG funds deliver lower returns to investors. And, as I discovered, they don’t agree with each other about what it all means, and also don’t much like being questioned. 

As it happens, I am an investor of my own money and regard myself as both ethical and sustainable. Moreover, I have no difficulty offering coherent definitions. 

My favourite definition comes from former Norwegian Prime Minister Gro Harlem Brundtland, who said, “Sustainable development is development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs”.  In my view that’s also ethical. 

As to what it means in practice, here are a few thoughts. 

I will never reject an investment in coal unless there are better nuclear or hydro options, delivering cheaper and more reliable power. It is not sustainable to subject the community to the vagaries of expensive and intermittent wind and solar power, and it is grossly unethical to compel families in India to continue burning cow manure for fuel or force children to do their homework in the dark. 

I will absolutely invest in forestry. Not only is it renewable, in Australia it is also totally sustainable. When the alternatives are importing timber from other countries or building in steel and concrete, it’s no contest. 

Australian agriculture often generates meagre returns on investment, but larger operations utilising modern technology do better. Genetically modified crops, modern herbicides, precision farming and minimum or zero tillage are not only sustainable but also boost yields, leaving more land for conservation. There is absolutely nothing ethical about staying rooted in the past, using out-dated technology to produce food that some people cannot afford to buy. 

Help investors avoid companies that might pose a greater financial risk due to their environmental or other practices.

Some ethical funds say they refuse to invest in companies that harm animals, by which they mean those that use animals to determine whether pharmaceuticals or cosmetics adversely affect humans. By what ethical standard is it preferable to expose our loved ones to the risk of life-threatening or disfiguring harm? 

As for things like tobacco, alcohol and cannabis, these are matters of personal choice. Whatever we might think of them, the ethical approach is to not interfere in the choices of others. I’d happily invest in them if the returns were adequate. And if it means protecting liberal democracy from authoritarianism, I’d certainly consider it ethical to invest in armament companies. 

That leaves a fairly small unethical and unsustainable list.  Anything that funds or apologises for terrorism, racism, anti-Semitism, Islamism or corruption is on it.  I’m also wary of companies that foster a woke culture; not only are they hypocrites but ‘go woke, go broke’ is more than a slogan. 

But that’s just me – I don’t expect others to necessarily share my views, although it’s clear that an increasing number of people seem to be doing just that. For those with control over their own money, my suggestion is to simply invest in businesses that offer the best returns, and ignore those that virtue signal. You can then use the dividends or capital gains to help make a difference based on your own values.

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The Unholy Union

Conceptually, worker unions are quite compatible with libertarian ideology. Workers voluntarily leveraging their collective bargaining power is a perfectly acceptable free-market response to what can oftentimes be an unbalanced relationship between employers and employees. All libertarians would prefer to see these kinds of voluntary associations dealing with some of the natural consequences that markets create, rather than the coercive and violent state trying, unsuccessfully, to regulate them away.

LABOR MAFIA

However, the true purpose of the vast majority of mainstream unions in Australia is obvious to anyone who is politically active: to funnel money and membership towards the Labor Party. It is no secret that the only way to advance in the Labor Party is to become a union leader; it’s not even an open secret, it’s basically written on the door. Union thugs also provide a handy tool during election season; ripping down opposition corflutes and intimidating volunteers at polling stations.

The vast majority of contributions to the Labor Party come from the unions

This is not to say that there aren’t any good unions out there; plenty of unions do great work, but they are usually smaller and are eventually intimidated out of the space. Similarly, it is possible that in the time union leaders spend factionalising, politicking and satiating their political ambitions, they occasionally help a few workers along the way. But politics always comes first.

The recent news tying the Construction, Forestry and Maritime Employees Union (CFMEU) to criminal organisations and intimidation tactics came as very little surprise to anyone who has spent even five minutes in politics. The only thing I was surprised about is that people didn’t know this already. The day we get to see the unions fully exposed, and their relationship with the Labor Party properly examined, is probably still a long way off though.

UNHOLY TRINITY

There is one other player in this tripartite corruption ring: industry super funds. In 2019, industry super funds paid over $10 million to Labor-aligned unions – up from just over $4 million ten years earlier. By 2030 it is projected the funds will be pumping over $30 million per year into unions.

Industry super funds are far and away the biggest political donors in Australia. However, these aren’t donations, it’s just plain corruption. Industry super funds pay their members’ retirement money to unions for vastly inflated and vaguely worded services: sponsorship fees, marketing costs and events. The industry super funds are adamant these are not political donations but legitimate expenses, which the Australian Electoral Commission happily goes along with.

Additionally, industry super funds invest heavily in union-backed infrastructure projects. The unholy trinity of the industry super funds financing the unions through the retirement savings of millions of Australians, which then go on to funnel that money to the Labor Party, is not only blatantly stealing from hardworking Aussies, but also propping up an inflated sector of the economy with politically influenced investment. These funds are also some of the most prolific when it comes to shareholder activism, driving much of the ESG-investing movement and wokification of corporate Australia.

Union thugs also provide a handy tool during election season

PAST PERFORMANCES

Prime Minister Albanese was heavily criticised for reneging on his election promise to stay out of our super, but the truth is that the Labor Party has been getting a big chunk of our super for years. The recent changes only further entrench industry super funds as the default choice for most Australians and push people further from having some degree of autonomy via self-managed super funds (SMSFs). 

While much noise was made about the tax changes towards super, and rightly so, the payday superannuation guarantee starting from 1 July 2026 went past largely unnoticed. A change from which smaller funds and SMSFs will see largely no benefit.

The real beneficiary of these changes is ultimately the Labor Party. The vast majority of contributions to the Labor Party come from the unions – that almost goes without saying. Only 15 per cent of Australia’s workforce is unionised, yet the CFMEU alone donated over $3 million to the Labor Party in the last election year. 

Industry super funds, with $1.2 trillion assets under management (AUM), control over a third of the AUM of all Australian super funds. There is no doubt that some of the exorbitant fees they charge their members are ending up in the hands of unions, and the money that they are actually investing is heavily skewed towards union-backed projects. Imagine when they can start relying on regular weekly or fortnightly inflows.

Smoke ‘Em If You Got ‘Em

For those of us who still occasionally like to check in on what the mainstream media is doing, there has been a topic that has got chins wagging and jowls flapping lately: “the tobacco wars”. 

While the mainstream media, in typical fashion, has sensationalised the story, it is true that black and grey market tobacco is abundant in the community.

BLACK, WHITE AND GREY

As a (recently quit) smoker, I see it everywhere. My smoker friends brag about the newest place they discovered, with even cheaper prices, while they pull a cigarette out of their fully branded pack. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw a drab-brown (plain packaging) pack of cigarettes. And I wouldn’t be much of a libertarian if I didn’t confess that I haven’t bought a pack of cigarettes through a shop compelled to display a “retail tobacco merchant license” in well over a year.

The obvious appeal of black and grey market tobacco is the near-two-thirds savings. I can buy a 20-pack of Marlboro Reds for under $20, while an authorised tobacco merchant is selling the same pack for over $50 (which I had to look up because it has been that long). And as more shopfronts pop up, the price is pushed down – a testament to the free market. 

Anybody serious about removing the illicit tobacco market

Even your poorest friends can afford to smoke chop-chop, illegally grown roll-your-own tobacco, at 50c per gram – a sixth of the price compared to roll-your-own tobacco in the authorised market.

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

Despite the fact that, I would guess, most smokers are paying less for cigarettes than they have in over a decade, there are serious concerns that accompany a rising illicit market for an addictive product. Bikies and organised crime groups are starting to muscle in on the market, aggressively extorting tobacco merchants (as opposed to the more passive extortion of tobacco tax) and violently vandalising competitors.

Stories of tobacco shops being vandalised and torched are becoming a near-weekly occurrence. And while I have little sympathy for organised criminals, it is not only criminals being affected: legitimate tobacco merchants are in their crosshairs and innocent victims are inevitably caught in the blaze. So week-in and week-out, the mainstream media trots out some new “expert” on the matter who declares another hair-brained measure will solve this problem once and for all.

One of the more popular new measures being touted is to implement a licensing system to regulate tobacco merchants, similar to booze. The one problem with that is it already exists and has done precisely nothing to stem the flow of illicit tobacco. In South Australia, where I live, we have a had a tobacco merchant licensing system for as long as I have been a smoker (15 years) and illegal tobacco – and the organised crime that comes with it – is thriving.

Even your poorest friends can afford to smoke chop-chop, illegally grown roll-your-own tobacco

STATING THE OBVIOUS

At the risk of sounding like another idiot who has the solution for this problem once and for all, there is actually an incredibly obvious solution to this problem: lower the price of cigarettes. There is only one way for those “evil”, “scary” big tobacco companies to sell their products at a loss and for merchants to make pennies on the dollar: abolish (or at least significantly reduce) tobacco tax. Well over half the price of the average pack of cigarettes or pouch of roll-your-own tobacco goes to the government in tobacco excise alone. Tobacco, like petrol, is also double-dipped on tax with an additional 10 per cent of GST.

So while even someone with a cursory understanding of economics knows the only way to combat this problem is to compete on price – especially in a market where almost all forms of non-price competition have been outlawed – the obvious remains unspoken. To even suggest we use the only realistic solution to combat the illicit tobacco market, while also removing the most regressive tax in Australian history, is complete heresy.

UP IN SMOKE

Instead, we’ll pile on more regulations, evaporating the few legitimate tobacco merchants left, and “crackdown” on illicit tobacco, as governments continuously claim to do for no avail. We have known for a long time now that prohibition never works, and now we know that a surreptitious prohibition, via ever-increasing prices, achieves the same result.

Anybody serious about removing the illicit tobacco market, preventing organised crime from gaining a foothold in another industry and legitimately saving the lives of those caught in the collateral damage, knows the answer to this problem. Now it’s time to say it out loud.