Where do house prices go from here?

The figures tell us that house prices are unsustainable at current levels and are likely to head dow

A big question is: where do house prices go from here? According to Halifax, house prices peaked in December 2007 and have fallen 17 per cent since then. Real house prices have fallen even further -- by around 27 per cent. Homeowners on trackers have done really well. Their payments fell sharply as interest rates fell to historically low levels after the Monetary Policy Committee (MPC) cut the Bank of England rate to 0.5 per cent. This has kept delinquencies down but it is unlikely to continue when interest rates rise. This will inevitably have a downward impact both on house prices themselves and, inevitably, on consumption also.

Based on house-price-to-earnings ratios (HPE), a measure of affordability, it does look as if house prices are unsustainable at current levels and hence still have quite a long way to fall.

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Chart 1 (click here for a bigger version) illustrates this, using data from the Halifax. The index stands at 4.45, compared with a peak of 5.81 in July 1987 and a long-run average from 1983 to 2000 -- prior to the house price boom -- of 3.64. The question is by how much. These numbers suggests that house prices have another 20 per cent or so to go, with the concern that, as has occurred in other house price corrections, there is a bigger overshooting before prices return to the long-run equilibrium. Interestingly, a comparison of gross rental yields, relative to a long-run average, also indicate that housing is at least 20 per cent overvalued.

But claims about the sustainability of HPEs come up against the counter-claim that low interest rates have made valuation metrics less useful as a guide to the sustainability or otherwise of prevailing house prices. Compelling new work by Paul Diggle from Capital Economics sheds some light on this issue. He argues that comparing house prices to equity prices, which should also have benefited from low interest rates, still suggests that house prices are about 15 per cent too high.

There are similarities, he suggests, between how equities and property "should" be priced. As a claim on a company's future earnings, the price of a share, he claims, should equal the present discounted value of the expected earnings to which it entitles the owner, with a suitable allowance for risk. An equivalent way of determining the "fair value" price for property is by using the present discounted value of the future stream of rental income, adjusted for risk and the costs of owning and maintaining property. So, Diggle argues, by lowering the rate at which future income is discounted, low interest rates should have benefited both asset classes. Even so, relative to a simple long-run average, the ratio between house prices and equity prices seems to suggest that either equities are around 15 per cent too cheap or housing is around 15 per cent too expensive. (See Chart 2 -- click here for bigger version).

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Given that the FTSE all share price/earnings ratio indicates that stock market valuations are very close to average historical levels, Diggle argues, there is little evidence for the former. The house-price-to-equities ratio seems to imply that house prices are higher than can be justified by low interest rates.

It is significant that the extent to which housing is overvalued on this new measure is similar to other measures, such as the HPE and rental values. The house-price-to-equities ratio adds to the case that a downward adjustment in prices is required. House prices look to be headed down.

David Blanchflower is economics editor of the New Statesman and professor of economics at Dartmouth College, New Hampshire

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How Donald Trump is slouching towards the Republican nomination

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb.

In America, you can judge a crowd by its merchandise. Outside the Connecticut Convention Centre in Hartford, frail old men and brawny moms are selling “your Trump 45 football jerseys”, “your hats”, “your campaign buttons”. But the hottest item is a T-shirt bearing the slogan “Hillary sucks . . . but not like Monica!” and, on the back: “Trump that bitch!” Inside, beyond the checkpoint manned by the Transportation Security Administration and the secret service (“Good!” the man next to me says, when he sees the agents), is a family whose three kids, two of them girls, are wearing the Monica shirt.

Other people are content with the shirts they arrived in (“Waterboarding – baptising terrorists with freedom” and “If you don’t BLEED red, white and blue, take your bitch ass home!”). There are 80 chairs penned off for the elderly but everyone else is standing: guys in motorcycle and military gear, their arms folded; aspiring deal-makers, suited, on cellphones; giggling high-school fatsos, dressed fresh from the couch, grabbing M&M’s and Doritos from the movie-theatre-style concession stands. So many baseball hats; deep, bellicose chants of “Build the wall!” and “USA!”. (And, to the same rhythm, “Don-ald J!”)

A grizzled man in camouflage pants and combat boots, whose T-shirt – “Connecticut Militia III%” – confirms him as a member of the “patriot” movement, is talking to a zealous young girl in a short skirt, who came in dancing to “Uptown Girl”.

“Yeah, we were there for Operation American Spring,” he says. “Louis Farrakhan’s rally of hate . . .”

“And you’re a veteran?” she asks. “Thank you so much!”

Three hours will pass. A retired US marine will take the rostrum to growl, “God bless America – hoo-rah!”; “Uptown Girl” will play many more times (much like his speeches, Donald J’s playlist consists of a few items, repeated endlessly), before Trump finally looms in and asks the crowd: “Is this the greatest place on Earth?”

There was supposed to be a ceiling above which Trump’s popular support could not climb. Only a minority within a minority of Americans, it was assumed, could possibly be stupid enough to think a Trump presidency was a good idea. He won New Hampshire and South Carolina with over 30 per cent of the Republican vote, then took almost 46 per cent in Nevada. When he cleaned up on Super Tuesday in March, he was just shy of 50 per cent in Massachusetts; a week later, he took 47 per cent of the votes in Mississippi.

His rivals, who are useless individually, were meant to co-operate with each other and the national party to deny him the nomination. But Trump won four out of the five key states being contested on “Super-Duper Tuesday” on 15 March. Then, as talk turned to persuading and co-opting his delegates behind the scenes, Trump won New York with 60 per cent.

Now, the campaign is trying to present Trump as more “presidential”. According to his new manager, Paul Manafort, this requires him to appear in “more formal settings” – without, of course, diluting “the unique magic of Trump”. But whether or not he can resist denouncing the GOP and the “corrupt” primary system, and alluding to violence if he is baulked at at the convention, the new Trump will be much the same as the old.

Back in Hartford: “The Republicans wanna play cute with us, right? If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have millions of people that don’t vote for a Republican. They’re not gonna vote at all,” says Trump. “Hopefully that’s all, OK? Hopefully that’s all, but they’re very, very angry.”

This anger, which can supposedly be turned on anyone who gets in the way, has mainly been vented, so far, on the protesters who disrupt Trump’s rallies. “We’re not gonna be the dummies that lose all of our jobs now. We’re gonna be the smart ones. Oh, do you have one over there? There’s one of the dummies . . .”

There is a frenzied fluttering of Trump placards, off to his right. “Get ’em out! . . . Don’t hurt ’em – see how nice I am? . . . They really impede freedom of speech and it’s a disgrace. But the good news is, folks, it won’t be long. We’re just not taking it and it won’t be long.”

It is their removal by police, at Trump’s ostentatious behest, that causes the disruption, rather than the scarcely audible protesters. He seems to realise this, suddenly: “We should just let ’em . . . I’ll talk right over them, there’s no problem!” But it’s impossible to leave the protesters where they are, because it would not be safe. His crowd is too vicious.

Exit Trump, after exactly half an hour, inclusive of the many interruptions. His people seem uplifted but, out on the street, they are ambushed by a large counter-demonstration, with a booming drum and warlike banners and standards (“Black Lives Matter”; an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, holding aloft Trump’s severed head). Here is the rest of the world, the real American world: young people, beautiful people, more female than male, every shade of skin colour. “F*** Donald Trump!” they chant.

After a horrified split-second, the Trump crowd, massively more numerous, rallies with “USA!” and – perplexingly, since one of the main themes of the speech it has just heard was the lack of jobs in Connecticut – “Get a job!” The two sides then mingle, unobstructed by police. Slanging matches break out that seem in every instance to humiliate the Trump supporter. “Go to college!” one demands. “Man, I am in college, I’m doin’ lovely!”

There is no violence, only this: some black boys are dancing, with liquid moves, to the sound of the drum. Four young Trump guys counter by stripping to their waists and jouncing around madly, their skin greenish-yellow under the street lights, screaming about the building of the wall. There was no alcohol inside; they’re drunk on whatever it is – the elixir of fascism, the unique magic of Trump. It’s a hyper but not at all happy drunk.

As with every other moment of the Trump campaign so far, it would have been merely some grade of the cringeworthy – the embarrassing, the revolting, the pitiful – were Trump not slouching closer and closer, with each of these moments, to his nomination. 

This article first appeared in the 28 April 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The new fascism