Housing stagnation is hardly a surprise

We need to change our housing policy to improve the quality and quantity of what is built.

The release of the 2011 figures showing stagnation in housing construction is unsurprising. Since the mid-Nineties, house prices have tripled but the number of new homes being built has fallen. This is seriously dysfunctional and is primarily due to a series of overlapping policy failures.

Firstly, there is our planning system. We release too little land for new homes: the amount of homes we built in the 2000s was the fewest since the war, and less than half of what we built in the 1960s. We preserve giant fields of wheat or low grade farmland, yet only 10 per cent of England is built on. We destroy gardens and build tiny homes, and then complain that this country is too cramped.

Our planning system also leads to poor quality housing, creating understandable NIMBYism. The current plan-led system of allocating land and housing has reams of quality control dictating what new development must look like. It fails. Almost everyone would rather live in a building built before our 1947 Town and Country Planning Act than after it. We have created a system where once developers have paid for land and made a payment to the council to obtain planning permission (entitled Section 106), they are probably out of pocket to the tune of £50,000 to £100,000. On top of that, people are so desperate for a home you can put up almost anything and make a profit. And instead of homes being what people want, they must satisfy council planners.

Allied to planning is the bubble created by our banking and finance system. By the peak of the bubble in 2007 around 75 per cent of all bank lending was going to property, almost all speculation. The only parts of the world that didn't see a property bubble were outside the euro and released enough land to keep housing costs close to construction (largely in the Southern US)." Banks funded a self-perpetuating bubble on the back of inelastic land supply.

Currently, our planning system allows developers to make abnormally high profits, which they choose over better homes or increased supply. Mortgage lending is up, while business lending falls. Land is still too expensive. Meanwhile nearly 10 per cent of mortgages are in forebearance even with interest rates at 0 per cent -- but everyone pretends the show must (and can) go on. We are repeating past mistakes.

In the last couple of years Policy Exchange has argued for a series of changes to accelerate the provision of new housing, from converting derelict office and retail space to allowing new large-scale suburbs and new Garden Cities supported by local people. We support a move away from the top down council-led planning system. Instead, we propose that local people can block development if 50 per cent vote against it. We also propose compensation for green field development along with parks and more green spaces attached to new development. We need fewer 500-page, incomprehensible council plans and more land released for attractive development with attractive green space attached.

This could be a key plank of the growth strategy that the government urgently needs; particularly as it would see construction accelerate most around the future growth hubs like Oxford, Cambridge, Leeds, York and London. We pretend we are desperate for growth but refuse to allow it where business needs it -- accelerating the shift of economic power to Asia.

Nothing that the government has proposed so far will shift the essential fundamentals. Unless the relevant Ministers, Greg Clark and Grant Shapps, are preparing models that will change things (that won't blow up when interest rates normalise), we can expect this situation to continue.

Alex Morton is a senior research fellow at Policy Exchange

 

Alex Morton is a senior research fellow at Policy Exchange

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war