In an era where many people struggle to put down their phone for 90 seconds, imagine handing it over for 90 minutes.
That's what happens on a regular basis at the headquarters of the Reserve Bank of Australia (RBA) a fine example of 1960s' Bauhaus — many would say brutalist — architecture that watches over Sydney's historic Martin Place financial district.
RBA lock-ups are a ritual I've performed countless times already in my 15 years as an economics and finance reporter at the ABC.
For us journalists, it's a rare chance to enter the bank, speak with senior RBA officials face-to-face — albeit off-the-record — and properly skim 60 or 70-page reports so we can sensibly summarise the contents.
On the other hand, for the bank, it provides an opportunity to highlight the message they want us — and you — to hear, although I suspect officials are frequently disappointed that what we choose to hear is different from what they would like us to hear.
So, how does this arcane institution work? What is it like inside the lock-up? Does it really help everyone understand what exactly the RBA is up to, and why?
Signing your freedom away
Before you can enter a Reserve Bank lock-up you need to sign a form, akin to the Official Secrets Act, which threatens exclusion from future lock-ups — and potentially far worse — if you were to release any information from embargoed reports before the allotted time.
Once you're in this very exclusive club, you get access to lock-ups for the monthly RBA meeting minutes, its quarterly Statement on Monetary Policy and its biannual Financial Stability Review.
You also receive embargoed copies of various speeches to be delivered by the bank's most-senior officials, usually about an hour before they speak.
(So, if you wondered how we published a comprehensive report of Philip Lowe's prepared comments to the National Press Club when he'd only just got up to talk, now you know.)
This month saw the much-anticipated release of the nation's Financial Stability Review, where the RBA assesses risks to Australia's financial system, from home and abroad.
During a period of global banking turmoil and intense interest rate pressure on Australian mortgage borrowers, there's a huge amount of interest in what the central bank thinks.
After waiting in the RBA's marble-clad foyer for a media handler to come down and fetch us, journalists are whisked away to a meeting room adjacent to the bank's library, which seems to be permanently deserted.
As the lock-up start time of 10am approaches, RBA staff traverse the room, swapping phones for laminated number cards.
The phones sit in a box that is whisked out of the room, to be returned just before the lock-up ends.
As the clock strikes 10am, the pile of FSRs gets handed out.
Sometimes we also get a USB with an electronic version — which has to be returned at the end of the lock-up, because it's not like the RBA has limitless money.
Most of the time, we get about half an hour to flick through the report before an official, often someone very senior, such as an assistant governor, comes into the room to take questions on background.
This time, there was a change in approach, with assistant governor (financial system) Brad Jones delivering a 10-minute, off-the-record briefing at the start, before fielding a few questions.
While we cannot quote from any of these background briefings, they do help clarify some points of doubt we might have about certain aspects of the report.
Our questions no doubt also give the more-astute bank officials a sense of topics we are interested in, now and for the future.
Unfortunately, with the briefing at the beginning of the lock-up this time, none of us had yet had a chance to read anything that we might want clarified although, as you can see below, many of us were already reading and typing while listening.
(The RBA did send another senior official from the financial system group to answer these sorts of questions at the end of the lock-up.)
While 90 minutes sounds like a reasonable chunk of time, the latest FSR ran to 64 pages of content, much of it dense and some of it quite technical.
And you have to be very conscious not to spend too long reading, potentially leaving yourself without enough time to write up what you've gleaned.
If you need some rocket fuel to get the job done, the RBA pulls out all the stops, with the finest filter coffee on tap.
Then there's the biccies: Some of us have kept a biscuit index of fiscal conditions at the RBA.
In my early days of lock-ups, Family Assorted were often the go, before there was an upgrade to Assorted Creams.
In the hey-day of lock-ups, pre-pandemic, Tim Tams and Mint Slice were on offer, but the choccy biscuits are now out of favour, with "near-expiry" specials from Harris Farm taking their place.
(Again, it's not like the RBA has a licence to print money or anything.)
Is it worthwhile?
In short, yes.
The alternative to a lock-up or embargo would be a mad scramble to skim RBA documents and speeches the moment they were published, with each outlet trying to get a story up as quickly as possible.
Without time to go through the document, the chances of landing on the key points straight away would be low, the odds of missing a critical element high.
It also means that we are not just forced to write about whatever the RBA chooses to highlight in the executive overview, because that is the quickest place to look.
Sure, we would keep reading and updating the story as the day went on, but how many people will have only read the first version?
Never wrong for long is not a good way to practise journalism.
The clear space afforded by a lock-up — without demands or distractions from editors and others — gives some room to read, digest and get things right.
Despite the massive volume of words to read and a considerable number to write, the RBA lock-ups offer a serenity rarely enjoyed in daily news journalism.
It is rare to have 90 minutes where no-one can call, text, email, Teams message or otherwise disturb you, leaving you to focus on understanding the information in front of you.
Maybe we should lock up journalists more often.
