I had to check up a specific productivity number this morning and noticed that it had got to the time of year when the OECD finally has a complete set of real GDP per hour worked (labour productivity) data for 2022. Data for 2020 and 2021 had been messed around by Covid disruptions, and measurement challenges around them, but if the illness was still around in 2022 the direct disruptions mostly weren’t.
Anyway, here is how the chart of labour productivity levels looks across countries
If you want, you could ignore the countries at the very top (notably Ireland, where the data are badly messed up by international tax distortions) and the Latin American OECD diversity hires at the very bottom. But it is not an encouraging picture for New Zealand.
Last year, the Secretary to the Treasury commented on some measurement work that Treasury and SNZ had been doing that suggested, on plausible grounds, that our hours worked numbers may overstating how they would look on a properly internationally comparable basis. She suggested that if such an adjustment was made – and it was for a variety of other countries last decade – it could lift GDP per hour worked by up to perhaps 10 per cent (wouldn’t change GDP per capita or wage rates of course). If we were to add 10 per cent to the New Zealand number in the chart above we’d be around where Slovakia, Slovenia, Japan and Israel are now.
But if there is something to that point – and there appears to be – any such adjustment would affect all the historical data as well, so that the growth rates over time won’t be materially affected, or (thus) comparisons of how New Zealand has or has not dropped down the OECD league tables.
A little arbitrarily, I wondered how New Zealand had done on that count over the last 10 years. Ten years is a nice round number, but it also happens to encompass a period half governed by Labour and half by National
Here I’ve shown the (ranked top to bottom) levels of real GDP for 2012 and 2022, and in the final column I’ve identified where a country has changed by more than two rankings over that decade.
Most of the material movements are in the bottom half of the table. There are some stellar performers, most notably Turkey and Poland. And there are some really really mediocre ones: Portugal and our own New Zealand. We’ve dropped six ranking places in a club of only 37 members in just a decade. It took me a little bit by surprise, and I think partly because the New Zealand debate (such as it is) rarely focuses on the countries that are now most similar to us in productivity terms.
Just as context, I then dug out the numbers for 2000. As it happens, the New Zealand ranking in 2012 was exactly the same as it had been in 2000. It is over the last decade that the decline down the OECD league tables has resumed.
Productivity growth is, ultimately, the basis for so much that people want for themselves and from their governments. “Productivity” isn’t the language of the focus groups or polls that seem to drive our politicians these days, but it is a critical New Zealand failing. We aren’t getting poorer in absolute terms, but we drift behind more and more advanced countries in the wages we can support, in the public services we can offer our citizens, in the private goods people can afford to purchase and enjoy.
But there is no sign that either of our major parties (well, or the minor parties) care, or have any ideas, any credible narrative, to reverse our economic decline. It is followership at its worst: competing in the race of “I am [aspire to be] their leader; I must see where they are going and follow them”. Real leadership would be something quite different than just rearranging the deck chairs, competing as to who can offer the best handouts.
I’m occasionally inclined to defend our politicians on the basis that our economic agencies don’t have much to offer them, but (a) those agencies have been degraded by much the same sort of politicians (in some cases, one lot did it, and the other lot keep quiet), and (b) real leadership seeks out, draws out, invites, examines, tests, scrutinises ideas and evidence, drawing around him or her advisers who could inform a better way, that a leader might champion, persuade and so on.
But neither Hipkins nor Luxon – or most of either’s predecessors – seem cut from that sort of cloth, perhaps not even interested or aware of what they don’t do or offer. Both seem content to preside over drift, just so long as they and their mates get to hold office rather than the other lot.
