Homeownership isn't a good aim of policy

A nation of homeowners isn't better than a nation of renters – and it may even be worse.

Over the weekend, Adam Posen, a former member of the Bank of England's Monetary Policy Committee, made a point beloved of economists but all-too-rare in circles of public debate: there's not actually any reason to think home ownership is a good thing. Posen writes (in the Financial Times, although it's reposted outside the paywall by his employers the Peterson Institute):

Policies to increase home ownership do not necessarily improve the supply or distribution of housing, as the UK experience demonstrates, and often works against it. The OECD’s Better Life Index shows that no relationship exists between a country’s home-ownership levels and its average housing satisfaction and quality. And there is no iron law that higher-income economies must have higher rates of home ownership: Mexico, Nepal and Russia all have home-ownership rates of more than 80 per cent, while the French, German and Japanese rates are 30-40 percentage points lower. The US and the UK rates sit between them at about 65 to 70 per cent.

As housing policy, home ownership is pretty bloody terrible. Matt Yglesias, commenting on Posen's post, points out that it's essentially encouraging massive investments in what is, at heart, a consumer good. (Land is a commodity, but the house on top is a durable good). That then leads to the political debate around housing turning into a debate around how best to preserve the value of that consumer good. Imagine, Yglesias writes, a world in which most people had a car worth hundreds of thousands of pounds:

If we banned the construction of new cars and trucks, then America's existing stock of cars and trucks would become more valuable, but this would be a way of impoverishing the country, not enriching it.

To make the same point more succinctly, I always like coming back to Dan Davies of Crooked Timber:

 

 

Housing policy requires cheap houses, but the politics of lots of people owning houses leads to a pressure for continued increase in the sale price of homes.

(That's made worse still by the peculiarities of the UK housing market, specifically the typical way buy-to-let financing works. The landlord buys a house, the rent pays the mortgage, and then they profit from the appreciation on the property. That means it's not enough even for house prices to be stable; they need continued, reliable increases)

Indirectly, then, policies to support homeownership render effective housing policy impossible. But they also have damaging direct effects.

Treating homeownership as an untrammelled good serves to disguise the trade-off inherent in buying a house. Renting has a place in the housing mix: it allows people to live in a house without being tied to it, lets them pass on the financial risk of repairs, lets them avoid the need for loans or capital, and lets them downsize fair By increasing the relative cost of renting, the choice between owning a house and renting one becomes a no-brainer: if you can afford a house, you should buy one.

That leads to the sort of problems highlighted by David Blanchflower and Andrew Oswald earlier this year: homeownership is correlated with unemployment. Buying a house ties you to a particular area, and a particular labour market; it increases the hurdle required to move to find work. Similarly, buying a house locks you into a particular mortgage payment, making it a lot harder to take a pay cut (while retraining, say), which can amplify the effects of sectoral shifts.

Homeownership as a policy to be pursued has a steadily increasing set of downsides, and a steadily decreasing set of upsides. Whether that means change will actually come is a different question, though.

Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

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 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times