Tag: capital gains tax

The Cleverest Bit of Marketing in Australia Right Now

Two founders in work aprons concentrate on detailed work at a cluttered workbench, while a relaxed man in a pale linen suit leans in the open doorway with one hand extended, palm up, doing none of the work but waiting for his share.
Never done a stocktake. Still wants his share.

Betty’s brother Kevin rang from Kiama last week, properly worked up. His daughter’s got a startup, a real one, the kind with late nights and not much sleep, and Kevin had just seen something online about the government coming after people exactly like her. “They’re punishing the ones having a crack,” he told Betty. “Did you see what they’re calling it? An aspiration ambush.” Betty hadn’t seen it. But she could hear that Kevin had already made up his mind, and that whatever he’d watched had done a very good job of helping him.

So she went and had a look. And what she found wasn’t really a tax story at all. It was one of the sharpest bits of marketing you’ll see all year.

We’ve spent two posts on GDP (See here and here).  Your house doesn’t count, and the country keeps shoving its money through the housing door instead of the door where things actually get built. If you missed those, the short version is: money put into a business grows the country, money put into an existing house just makes the house dearer.

Well, this week a bunch of young business owners turned that exact argument into one of the sharpest marketing campaigns you’ll see all year. And whatever you think of the politics, the craft is worth a look, because it’s a masterclass in how to win an argument before anyone’s checked the facts.

Here’s the setup. The budget proposed changing capital gains tax, the tax you pay on the profit when you sell something for more than you bought it. The change makes sense for the housing door, taxing property investors harder so houses stop being such a one-way bet. The founders even say they’re fine with that bit. The trouble is the same change also hits people who sell a business they’ve built. Same swing of the door, and it caught the workshop along with the houses.

Now watch what they did with it.

First, the name. They didn’t call it “proposed CGT discount reform.”

They called it an aspiration ambush. Two words, and you already know whose side you’re meant to be on. “Aspiration” is the good thing, having a crack, building something. “Ambush” is the sneaky thing done to you from behind. Stick them together and you’ve got the whole grievance in a phrase a headline writer can’t resist. That’s not an accident, that’s branding.

Second, the line. The letter says, near enough, we work the hours, we carry the risk. You can’t argue with it. It doesn’t mention tax rates or indexation or any of the stuff that makes your eyes glaze. It just plants a flag: we’re the ones doing the hard yards. Try writing a reply that starts “well, actually” to we work the hours, we carry the risk and see how you sound.

Third, and this is the bit I’d frame and hang on the wall, the silent partner meme. Some of them made fake ads casting the Prime Minister as a 47% shareholder in their business. One posted that he’s a bloke who has never done a stocktake and somehow still gets 47 per cent of the business and takes zero risk. That’s the silent partner gag, and it’s perfect, because it takes an invisible, boring thing, a tax on a sale that might happen years from now, and turns it into a freeloading mate who turns up at payday having done nothing. Everyone’s had a version of that bloke. You feel it before you’ve thought about it. Region Canberra

No wonder Kevin shared it. That’s the gag working exactly as designed, it travels from a screen in Kiama to a phone call with his sister before anyone’s checked a single number.

Fourth, the messenger. They didn’t wheel out grey men from a lobby group. They badged it founders under 40. Young, building things, the future. It’s much harder to paint a 35-year-old who started a company as a greedy fat cat, so the campaign chose faces that don’t fit the villain costume.

Put it together and you’ve got a textbook job: a sticky name, a line you can’t argue with, a meme that does the thinking for you, and the right faces out front. It went everywhere. Sky, the papers, an open letter straight to the PM. That’s what good marketing looks like, it makes its point feel like common sense before the other side has finished clearing its throat.

Now, here’s where Betty keeps her wits about her, because clever marketing is exactly the thing you should be most careful around. Being well-sold isn’t the same as being right.

Albanese’s comeback is, frankly, not bad either, it’s just nowhere near as catchy. He says the campaign is being run by right-wing parties and their allies, and that the meme misses how the tax actually works: it’s only paid when a business is sold, not every year, and most small businesses pay little or no capital gains tax when they sell. If he’s right, the “47% silent partner” doesn’t apply to most of the people sharing it. But “it’s only realised on disposal and most SMEs fall under the threshold” will never, ever beat a funny picture of the PM stealing half your business. The truer claim is losing because the catchier claim is winning. That happens a lot, and it’s worth noticing when it’s happening to you. Western Advocate Region Canberra

So two things are true at the same time. The founders have a real point, the tax change really does seem to clip the productive door as well as the housing one, and that’s the exact problem these posts have been about. And they’ve dressed that point in such good marketing that you should slow down and check it rather than just nod along. Both can be true. Usually are.

That’s the lesson, and it’s a bigger one than capital gains tax. The side with the better slogan isn’t automatically the side that’s right. They’re just the side that hired the better wordsmith. Your job, Betty, is to enjoy the craft, and then go and find out whether the thing it’s selling you is actually true.

Funny old world. We started by working out why your house doesn’t count, and we’ve ended up watching the country’s smartest marketers fight over the door it should’ve been going through all along.

Your House Doesn’t Count (And Other GDP Surprises)

A whole house, and the scale reads zero. That’s the thing about GDP nobody explains: a home going up in value adds nothing to what the country actually produces.

A couple of weeks ago I drove seven hours to hand out how-to-vote cards, then wrote the whole thing up. Quite a few of you read it. This week my big adventure was reading about capital gains tax for forty minutes on a perfectly good weekday because a Michael West Media piece landed in my inbox and I couldn’t help myself.

Every time the New York Times, Michael West Media or The Conversation turns up, I do a deep dive. A very deep dive. So between the seven days at a polling booth and the forty-minute tax binge, I think we can all agree: I need to get a life.

The good news is I’m going out with friends this weekend. Nice wine, good food, great company. Long overdue.

Before I go and remember what conversation with non-economists feels like, here’s the thing that piece explained that finally made GDP make sense to me after years of nodding along and understanding nothing.

The two kinds of “investing”

There are two ways to put your money to work. They look the same. They are not.

You can buy something that already exists, like an established house, and wait for it to go up in value. You end up richer. Good for you. But nothing new got made. The house was already standing. No extra jobs, no extra goods, nothing extra for the country. Your wealth went up and the nation’s output didn’t move an inch.

Or your money can go into a business. The business buys equipment, trains people, makes products, hires staff. That lifts what the country can actually produce. More gets made for every hour worked. That’s productivity, and productivity is the thing that makes wages rise over the years, for everyone, not just the person who put the money in.

So one is a win for you. The other is a win for you that’s also a win for the whole country.

That was the click for me. I’d always heard “investment” and pictured someone buying a rental. Turns out economists barely count that as investment at all. If it isn’t increasing what the country can produce, it’s really just savings wearing a nicer jacket.

Why it matters for the budget

For 25 years Australia poured its money into the first kind. Existing houses. The tax system practically begged us to, with the 50% capital gains discount and negative gearing making an established property the smartest tax play going.

The result is a $12 trillion housing market, nearly four times the value of every company on the stock exchange combined. A mountain of money sitting in houses that just go up in price, instead of in businesses that build things and employ people.

As one financial writer, Harry Chemay, put it in Michael West Media last week, residential land “may appreciate over time, but it does not by itself generate any economic output.” A house going up in value makes the owner richer without the country producing a single thing extra. michaelwest

That’s what the 2026 budget is trying to shift. Nudge the money out of “buy an old house and wait” and into building new homes and backing businesses. Whether it works is a separate question, and the government has done a woeful job explaining any of it, which I got into elsewhere. But the idea underneath is sound, and it’s the first time I’ve properly understood why anyone bothers measuring productivity at all.

If you want the plain-English version of what the budget actually does to your tax, I wrote that for Betty from Blacktown here. The polling booth piece, if you missed it, is here . And the family farms and capital gains argument is here.

Right. Wine.

Albo the Silent Partner – a budget explainer for Betty from Blacktown

Somewhere in Blacktown, Betty is reading the budget papers. Her accountant isn’t answering. Her family’s at work. The Treasurer is on the telly saying “distortions. This post is for her.

G’day Betty.

You rang your accountant. He didn’t ring back. Your daughter’s working two jobs and your son-in-law’s on night shift, so the family WhatsApp is all emojis and no answers. Meanwhile every news bulletin has someone in a suit yelling about “indexation” and “distortions” and you’re left wondering whether the bloke on the telly just took something off you or gave you something, and whether you should be cross about it.

Let me have a crack. No jargon. Promise.

What actually changed on budget night

A week ago, on 12 May, Jim Chalmers handed down the budget. Three things matter for normal people:

One. From July 2027, when someone sells an investment, a rental, some shares, a business, the tax rules change. The old deal was simple: hold it more than a year, only pay tax on half the gain. The new deal: you only pay tax on the bit that beats inflation (the “real” gain), but with a minimum tax rate of 30% on whatever’s left.

Two. Negative gearing, where landlords offset rental losses against their wage, gets limited to new builds only, also from July 2027. If you’ve already got an investment property, nothing changes for you. You’re grandfathered in.

Three. Family trusts get a minimum 30% tax from July 2028. This is the bit that’s upsetting small business owners, because a lot of them run their butcher shop or tradie business through a trust.

What it means for you, Betty

Here’s the thing the government has been hopeless at saying out loud: if you’re a pensioner, the minimum 30% tax on capital gains doesn’t apply to you. Pensioners are exempt. That’s in the budget papers. Nobody’s said it on the 6 o’clock news because it doesn’t fit either side’s story.

If you own your home, your home is not touched. The main residence exemption is untouched. Sell the house, no tax. Same as it ever was.

If you’ve got a bit of super, your super is not touched. The CGT discount inside super funds stays.

If you’ve got a rental you bought years ago, nothing changes for you unless and until you sell, and even then the old rules apply to the gains you’ve already made.

So far, so boring. So why is everyone yelling?

Why everyone’s yelling

Because of the bit that isn’t about Betty. It’s about Betty’s nephew Luke who runs a life-coaching business, or your neighbour’s daughter who started a little software company in her garage. When they eventually sell, the government takes a minimum 30% slice. Small business owners have started making AI memes of Anthony Albanese photoshopped into their shop windows as the “silent partner” the bloke who didn’t do any of the work but turns up on settlement day with his hand out.

That’s the meme. And memes win arguments these days, Betty, whether we like it or not.

Now , the government will tell you there are small business CGT concessions that still let eligible owners halve or even wipe their CGT bill on sale. That’s true. They are real and they are generous. But Jim Chalmers spent a week not saying it loud enough, and Anthony Albanese spent a week saying “we’re returning to the pre-1999 system” as if anyone under 50 remembers what the pre-1999 system felt like.

The bit that should actually worry you

It’s not the policy. It’s the competence.

A week after budget night, Labor’s own backbenchers are telling journalists they can’t explain it. The Prime Minister himself admitted yesterday that the trust changes “will take longer to develop”, which is political code for we announced it before we’d finished designing it. He’s said he’ll bring the CGT legislation to Parliament “in a fortnight.” Everything’s in a fortnight. Nothing’s actually happened yet.

If your accountant won’t ring you back and the Treasurer can’t explain the policy on Insiders, that’s not your fault, Betty. That’s theirs.

What to actually do

  1. Don’t panic-sell anything. The changes don’t start until July 2027. You’ve got over a year. Existing assets are mostly grandfathered.
  2. If you’re a pensioner, breathe out. The minimum tax doesn’t apply to you.
  3. Keep ringing the accountant. When he finally picks up, ask him two questions: does anything I own get caught by the new rules, and if so, when do I need to decide anything? That’s it. Don’t let him bill you for an hour of jargon.
  4. Watch the trust stuff. It’s the bit most likely to change between now and when it’s legislated. If anyone tells you what the final rules are before about September, they’re guessing.

The bottom line

The budget isn’t the disaster the memes suggest, and it isn’t the masterstroke the press releases suggest. For most pensioners and most homeowners, very little changes. For people who own businesses they plan to sell, or who use family trusts, there’s real stuff to work through and the government hasn’t finished working it through itself.

Anthony Albanese has earned his new nickname. He is the silent partner, silent on the bits that would reassure you, silent on the bits that would honestly admit what’s still being figured out. Until he starts talking like a human being instead of a Treasury press release, Betty from Blacktown is going to keep being confused. And so will the rest of the country.

Hang in there. Ring the accountant on Monday. And if he still won’t pick up, ring me.

The Shit Sandwich and the Sacred Calling

Last week’s budget was described, by at least one prominent politician, as a shit sandwich. In the days since, my feed has filled up with variations on that theme. Angry posts from farmers and farming families, several of them quoting scripture, most of them warning that the government is now taxing Australians in life and in death.

There is no death tax in this budget. There is no inheritance tax. What there is, among other things, is the end of the pre-CGT exemption for assets bought on or before 19 September 1985. From 1 July 2027, those assets get a market value reset, and any gain after that date becomes taxable. For a family sitting on land a grandfather bought in 1972, that is a genuine change. The pre-2027 gain stays exempt, but the planning assumption that the asset would never attract CGT is gone.

That is worth being angry about if you are directly affected. It is not the end of civilisation, and it is not a death tax, but it is a real shift in the rules for long held family assets. The small business and farm CGT concessions remain in place. The 50% CGT discount is being replaced by cost base indexation, which is a return to how the system worked between 1985 and 1999. Trusts get a 30% minimum tax from 1 July 2028, with several categories exempt.

That is the factual picture. The emotional picture is different, and it is the emotional picture that gets shared.

The post that prompted this one quoted Proverbs 13:22, a good person leaves an inheritance to their children’s children, and built an argument that modern tax policy is in tension with biblical stewardship. It is a familiar move in rural commentary.

Farming gets framed as a sacred calling, a multi-generational legacy, the soul of the nation. The argument runs that ordinary commercial rules should not apply to it, because what farmers do is not ordinary commerce.

Here is the problem with that framing. A farm is a small business. It happens to involve land and livestock rather than dry cleaning or panel beating, but the structural features people invoke to mark it as different, capital intensity, weather risk, commodity price exposure, thin margins, succession planning, asset values shifting under policy changes, exist across the small business economy. A suburban café owner whose parents bought the shop in 1980 faces the same pre-CGT change as a grazier whose parents bought the property in 1980. Only one of them gets Proverbs quoted in their defence.

Farmers already have a substantial suite of concessions that other small businesses do not. The small business CGT concessions, the farm-specific rollover, farm management deposits, primary producer income averaging, fuel tax credits, drought assistance and the farm household allowance.  By international standards Australian farmers are lightly supported. The EU and US are far more generous. But by domestic standards, against other small businesses, the deal is good.

Which brings me to the honest version of the argument, the one farm lobbies rarely make out loud because it undercuts the rugged independence branding.

The rebates exist because food has to stay cheap. Australian consumers pay one of the lowest proportions of household income on food in the developed world. That is not an accident. Production costs are subsidised at the input end. Fuel, finance, drought support, levies matched by government. The saving flows through to retail. Governments of both major parties have made the same political judgement for decades. It is cheaper and less visible to subsidise farm inputs than to let food prices float to their true cost. A $12 loaf of bread ends governments faster than a fuel rebate scheme that nobody outside agriculture understands.

There is a second piece, which is food security. Most developed countries support domestic agriculture for the same reason they support domestic steel or semiconductors. You do not want to be wholly import dependent for something essential. That is a legitimate public interest argument and it is the one that should be made.

What is striking is that this argument almost never appears in the angry posts. Instead the framing is persecution. City elites who do not understand us, governments that hate producers, taxes designed to crush the family farm. It is emotionally satisfying and politically effective, but it obscures what is actually going on. The rebates are not charity. They are not a moral reward for choosing a noble profession. They are a consumer subsidy delivered through producers, designed to keep retail food prices down and maintain sovereign production capability.

If the argument were made that way, it would be harder to dismiss. It would also be harder to wrap in scripture, which may be why it is not the version we hear.

The budget is not a shit sandwich. It is a set of policy choices, some of which deserve sharp criticism. Pretending otherwise does the people most affected by the real changes no favours at all.