The shadow treasurer is right to warn against cash handouts for the working class. If we give regular people money, they will selfishly spend it on food, whereas corporations know how to safely hoard it.
I was sipping a perfectly acceptable, if slightly overpriced, oat milk cortado in Double Bay yesterday when I read the news that the government is preparing a $10 billion budget package for fuel and fertiliser security. Finally, I thought. Some fiscal restraint.
For months, I have been fielding frantic calls from my stockbroker, my property manager, and even my sommelier, all terrified by the same looming spectre: the possibility that the federal budget might include cash handouts for regular households. The very idea sends a shiver down my spine. Have we learned nothing from the past three years? You cannot simply hand money to ordinary people. They have absolutely no self-control. Give a working-class family a few hundred dollars, and what do they do? They spend it. On electricity. On school shoes. On mince meat. It is a reckless, impulsive frenzy of consumption that threatens to tear the fabric of our macroeconomy apart.

This is why the $10 billion corporate subsidy is such a breath of fresh air. As shadow treasurer Tim Wilson so eloquently pointed out this week, we must be vigilant against policies that fuel inflation. Ten billion dollars given directly to multinational fuel and fertiliser conglomerates is not a handout. It is an investment in the structural integrity of our nation’s balance sheets. Unlike a struggling single mother who will immediately inject her cash into the local economy by purchasing groceries—thus driving up demand and prices—a multinational energy conglomerate knows exactly what to do with a massive injection of taxpayer wealth: absolutely nothing.
It is basic economics, really, though I do not expect the average renter to grasp it. When you give $10 billion to a massive corporation, that money is safely spirited away. It is used to buy back stock. It is quietly routed through a subsidiary in the Cayman Islands. It is converted into executive bonuses that are immediately locked away in low-yield sovereign bonds or perhaps a nice Impressionist painting to hang in a Geneva freeport. The money is effectively neutralized. It poses zero threat to the Consumer Price Index because it never sees the light of day. This is the responsible way to handle a national budget. We are locking the cash away where the grubby, inflation-causing hands of the populace cannot reach it.
I spoke about this over drinks at the club with a brilliant mind in the field of keeping money away from people who need it.
The absolute worst thing you can do during an inflation crisis is allow the money supply to reach the lower classes, who will simply exchange it for goods and services.
Let us take a moment to consider the fertiliser companies themselves. Have they not suffered enough? The cost of extracting minerals and synthesizing nitrogen has been subject to global supply chain shocks. Yes, their profit margins are at record highs, and yes, they are paying virtually no corporate tax, but we must look past these superficial metrics to the emotional toll. Knowing that there are everyday Australians out there asking for a fifty-dollar energy rebate must be deeply traumatic for a board of directors trying to finalize a billion-dollar dividend payout. The $10 billion package is a necessary comfort blanket. It tells our vital corporate citizens: we see you, we value you, and we will defund public hospitals to protect you.
The shadow treasurer is entirely correct to warn that we cannot pump extra stimulus into the economy by helping households. We are, as a nation, tightening our belts. My own household has had to make sacrifices. Just last week, I told my landscaper that we would have to delay the installation of the third water feature until next quarter. It was a difficult conversation, but we all must do our part to cool the economy. If I can endure the aesthetic tragedy of an un-waterfalled retaining wall, surely the working class can endure skipping a meal or two.
So, as we approach budget night, I implore my fellow Australians to look at the big picture. When you hear the treasurer announce sweeping tax cuts for the wealthy and a massive ten-billion-dollar injection into the fuel sector, do not fall into the trap of selfish resentment. Do not ask why there is no relief for your rising rent or your crippling grocery bills. Instead, take a deep breath, look at your empty pantry, and feel a swell of patriotic pride. Your sacrifice is ensuring that a fertiliser executive can buy his fourth yacht without slightly nudging the inflation rate. And really, isn't that what the economy is all about?