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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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue