Help To Buy is in a mess - here's how Osborne can rescue it

To avoid a "second home subsidy", the government must limit the scheme to first-time buyers.

The government’s Help to Buy scheme - a handout to the big beasts of the construction industry wrapped up as a fluffy social policy giving the hard pressed a leg up - has had an inauspicious start to life.

The scheme will share out £3.5bn in interest-free loans to buyers who can rustle up a mortgage deposit of just 5 per cent, each loan offering up to 20 per cent of the value of a new-build property worth £600,000 or less, and taxpayer backing for up to £130bn of mortgage lending.

From the off, the policy faced criticism for artificially stimulating the housing market, threatening another disastrous cycle of boom, bubble and bust.

Even the Treasury select committee felt moved to share its concerns about the risks of channelling public money into an investment whose value - like all good property speculators know - could go up as well as down.

But the biggest problem with Help to Buy is the loophole in the mortgage guarantee scheme that will allow existing home owners access to a loan. Parodying the government’s own 'spare room subsidy' (or 'bedroom tax'), shadow chancellor Ed Balls found a new moniker for the policy: "the second home subsidy".

On BBC1’s Sunday Politics show this week, Conservative MP Nadhim Zahawi was challenged on this issue yet again. He gave a halting and stumbling response, which cleared absolutely nothing up and raised new fears about the perverse impact these loans might have.

Asked what the government could do to stop the policy being used to buy second properties, Zahawi said:

One of the things we have to look at is the detail. How do you decide? If parents want to help get [children] to get a 5 per cent deposit in place or if someone is selling a smaller property to help their family into a bigger place?

Clear as mud. But look again at what he asking us to consider: how do you decide if a parent purchasing a second home to help their child onto the property ladder - buying it for them, or with them, or using their existing owner occupied property as leverage - is using or abusing equity loan scheme?

It’s worth remembering that, when he unveiled Help to Buy in the Budget, chancellor George Osborne said that home ownership was now "beyond the great majority who can’t turn to their parents for a contribution. That’s not just a blow to the most human of aspirations, it’s a setback to social mobility."

What is this fudged idea over public funding for second homes if not a double-bolted cap on social mobility?

Allowing parents to purchase a second home through to the scheme to support their younger family members removes the opportunity of government support from the children of those who could never offer them an independent leg up, and uses public funds to consolidate wealth in the hands of those who already have it. And if that’s the case, it must be stopped. Immediately.

Writ large, a policy like this only exacerbates social inequality, with its disastrous consequences for us all (no need to rehash the excellent work of Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett here). It’s not clear that this is exactly what Zahawi meant in his fumbled answer to Andrew Neil’s forensic questioning; perhaps he was just having a bad morning, or feared falling foul of the party machine. Either way, a vacuum will be filled with speculation, so government must clarify exactly how, and by whom, Help to Buy will be accessed.

Another dangling question for the coalition is whether Help to Buy has actually pushed the construction industry to develop more homes? We know there is demand for decent housing; the problem is with the lack of supply. Builders aren’t building, and where they are they’re not building the right sort of homes.

As David Orr, chief executive of the National Housing Federation, explained in his response to Help to Buy: "Our housing market has long been weakened by the lack of new houses being built... the government should be focusing on unlocking investment to build more new homes as a way of managing down the housing benefit bill and boosting the economy."

If the policy has only managed to put down the foundations for £600,000 Barrett ‘dream homes’, what is its value to first time buyers?

But listen up, Osborne, because you can rescue Help to Buy with three simple measures:

1. Reduce the limit to 20 per cent of any property valued at the national average of £238,293, rising to £350,000 for London and the South East.

2. Only allow first-time buyers to access the mortgage guarantee scheme.

3. Only open the scheme up to properties with three bedrooms or less, forcing developers to build the type of affordable housing that is so desperately in demand for first-time buyers.

The Chancellor may feel reports that house prices are on the rise for the first time since 2010 confirm that his policy is working. I believe it demonstrates quite the opposite.

George Osborne meets with a couple at the Berkeley Homes Royal Arsenal Riverside development in Woolwich. Photograph: Getty Images.

Hannah Fearn is contributing editor of the Guardian local government, housing and public leaders networks

Photo: Getty
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We argue over Charlie Gard, but forget those spending whole lives caring for a disabled child

The everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over life and death.

“Sometimes,” says the mother, “I wish we’d let him go. Or that he’d just been allowed to slip away.” The father agrees, sometimes. So too does the child, who is not a child any more.

On good days, nobody thinks this way, but not all days are good. There have been bright spots during the course of the past four decades, occasional moments of real hope, but now everyone is tired, everyone is old and the mundane work of loving takes a ferocious toll.

When we talk about caring for sick children, we usually mean minors. It’s easiest that way. That for some parents, the exhaustion and intensity of those first days with a newborn never, ever ends – that you can be in your fifties, sixties, seventies, caring for a child in their twenties, thirties, forties – is not something the rest of us want to think about.

It’s hard to romanticise devotion strung out over that many hopeless, sleepless nights. Better to imagine the tragic mother holding on to the infant who still fits in her loving arms, not the son who’s now twice her size, himself edging towards middle-age and the cliff edge that comes when mummy’s no longer around.

Writing on the tragic case of Charlie Gard, the Guardian’s Giles Fraser claims that he would “rain fire on the whole world to hold my child for a day longer”. The Gard case, he argues, has “set the cool rational compassion of judicial judgement and clinical expertise against the passion of parental love”: “Which is why those who have never smelled the specific perfume of Charlie’s neck, those who have never held him tight or wept and prayed over his welfare, are deemed better placed to determine how he is to live and die.”

This may be true. It may also be true that right now, countless parents who have smelled their own child’s specific perfume, held them tightly, wept for them, loved them beyond all measure, are wishing only for that child’s suffering to end. What of their love? What of their reluctance to set the world aflame for one day more? And what of their need for a life of their own, away from the fantasies of those who’ll passionately defend a parent’s right to keep their child alive but won’t be there at 5am, night after night, cleaning out feeding tubes and mopping up shit?

Parental – in particular, maternal – devotion is seen as an endlessly renewable resource. A real parent never gets tired of loving. A real parent never wonders whether actually, all things considered, it might have caused less suffering for a child never to have been born at all. Such thoughts are impermissible, not least because they’re dangerous. Everyone’s life matters. Nonetheless, there are parents who have these thoughts, not because they don’t love their children, but because they do.

Reporting on the Gard case reminds me of the sanitised image we have of what constitutes the life of a parent of a sick child. It’s impossible not to feel enormous compassion for Charlie’s parents. As the mother of a toddler, I know that in a similar situation I’d have been torn apart. It’s not difficult to look at photos of Charlie and imagine one’s own child in his place. All babies are small and helpless; all babies cry out to be held.

But attitudes change as children get older. In the case of my own family, I noticed a real dropping away of support for my parents and disabled brother as the latter moved into adulthood. There were people who briefly picked him up as a kind of project and then, upon realising that there would be no schmaltzy ending to the story, dropped him again. Love and compassion don’t conquer all, patience runs out and dignity is clearly best respected from a distance.

All too often, the everyday misery of care work is hidden behind abstract arguments over who gets the right to decide whether an individual lives or dies. I don’t know any parents who truly want that right. Not only would it be morally untenable, it’s also a misrepresentation of what their struggles really are and mean.

What many parents who remain lifelong carers need is adequate respite support, a space in which to talk honestly, and the recognition that actually, sometimes loving is a grim and hopeless pursuit. Those who romanticise parental love – who, like Fraser, wallow in heroic portrayals of “battling, devoted parents” – do nothing to alleviate the suffering of those whose love mingles with resentment, exhaustion and sheer loneliness.

There are parents out there who, just occasionally, would be willing to set the world on fire to have a day’s respite from loving. But regardless of whether your child lives or dies, love never ends. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.