The Great Australian Heist: When "Public Service" Becomes a Private Club

 

The Great Australian Heist: When "Public Service" Becomes a Private Club

History teaches us that the closer you are to the printing press, the fatter your wallet becomes. Milton Friedman famously noted that the most inefficient way to spend money is spending "other people’s money on other people." But he missed a nuance: spending other people’s money on oneself is the pinnacle of bureaucratic evolution.

The latest Workplace Gender Equality Agency (WGEA) report in Australia was supposed to be a lecture on social justice—a way to shame the private sector into balancing the scales between men and women. Instead, it accidentally pulled back the curtain on a far more cynical reality: the Australian federal government has created a "Bureaucratic Aristocracy" that makes the private sector look like a charity ward.

Take the Clean Energy Finance Corporation (CEFC). Their lowest-paid 25% of staff earn an average of $137,000. To put that in perspective, that’s nearly double the national median income. In the halls of the CEFC, being "bottom of the barrel" puts you in the top 10% of the Australian workforce. And don’t even get me started on the Future Fund, where the top quartile earns an average of $560,000. That’s not a public service salary; that’s a "lottery winner" stipend, funded by the very taxpayers who earn five times less.

The excuse is always the same: "We have to pay market rates to attract talent from investment banks." Yet, history shows that when the state begins to mimic the excesses of the market without the market's risk of bankruptcy, you are no longer a government—you are a protected cartel. The Albanese government boasts of low unemployment, but they conveniently forget to mention that a huge chunk of that "growth" is just the public sector cannibalizing the treasury to hire more of their own.

When the Romans started paying the Praetorian Guard more than the legions, the Empire’s days were numbered. Today, we don’t have Praetorians; we have statutory authorities with 15.4% superannuation. It’s the ultimate business model: zero competition, infinite funding, and a workforce that gets paid more to regulate the economy than the people who actually build it.

So, You Think the Government Knows Best, Eh?

So, You Think the Government Knows Best, Eh?

You ever just sit back and look at things? Really look at them? And then you scratch your head and think, "Now, how in the blazes did we get here?" I do it all the time. Especially when it comes to things run by the government. They mean well, bless their hearts, they really do. But sometimes, when the government gets its hands on something, it’s like watching a clown try to defuse a bomb with a rubber chicken. It’s supposed to be serious, but you can’t help but laugh, nervously, of course.

Take, for instance, this business with travel. I heard about some kid over in Britain – a smart one, too – who figured out it was cheaper to fly all the way to Berlin and back to Sheffield than to just hop on a train from Essex. Berlin! Think about that. He flew internationally and still paid less than a domestic train ticket. Now, if you asked any sensible person – and mind you, I’m talking about sensible people, not bureaucrats with their heads stuck in a spreadsheet – if that makes any sense, they’d tell you no. It’s like buying a whole cow when all you want is a glass of milk, but the milk costs more than the cow. It’s absurd!

And why is it absurd? Because someone, somewhere, decided that a particular train line, or perhaps the whole train system, needed to be a monopoly. "Oh, it's for the public good," they'll say, puffing out their chests. "Efficiency. Standardization. No messy competition." Hogwash! When you take away competition, you take away the incentive to be good. You take away the reason to care if your customers are happy. Because where else are they going to go? Nowhere, that’s where.

It’s like when the post office was the only game in town. You wanted to send a letter? You waited. And you paid what they asked. And if it got there eventually, well, that was a bonus. Now, we’ve got FedEx, UPS, drone deliveries on the horizon. Why? Because someone said, "Hey, maybe there's a better way to get this package from here to there." And suddenly, the mail service had to pull up its socks. Or at least, try to.

The government, bless its heart, it’s like a well-meaning relative who’s just not very good at business. They’re great at laws, at protecting us from… well, sometimes from ourselves. But running a business? Making sure things are efficient and cost-effective? That’s a whole different kettle of fish.

When you’ve got a monopoly, whether it’s trains, or utilities, or even certain government agencies, there’s no pressure to innovate. No pressure to cut costs. No pressure to be friendly. They just exist. And we, the public, pay for it. Through our taxes, through higher prices, and sometimes, through the sheer frustration of dealing with a system that seems designed to confound rather than serve.

You see it everywhere once you start looking. The slow lines, the convoluted forms, the endless waiting. Why? Because they don't have to be better. They don't have a competitor breathing down their neck, threatening to steal their business if they don't shape up.

So, the next time you hear someone say, "The government should run everything!" just remember that kid flying to Berlin to save money on a train ticket. And ask yourself, "Is that really the kind of 'efficiency' we want?" Because if it is, then I’ve got a bridge to sell you. And it’ll probably cost less than a bus ticket across town.