Читать книгу American Nightmare - Randal O'Toole - Страница 6

Introduction

Along with millions of other Americans, I watched in shock and awe as the world’s financial markets melted down in September 2008. The knowledge that this was the beginning of a major recession was especially heartbreaking because several of my colleagues and I had been warning people of this imminent collapse, and ways to prevent it, for several years.¹ Most recently, my 2007 Cato Institute book, The Best-Laid Plans, argued that “planning-induced housing bubbles . . . are threatening the world economy,” and the inevitable collapse of those bubbles would “cause the world to go into a severe recession.”²

Numerous researchers have shown that government regulation has made American housing unnecessarily expensive and made many regional housing markets prone to bubbles. In recent years, the focus of state and local land-use regulation has been a war on sprawl that, in practice, became a war on single-family homes. Because 84 percent of people living in single-family homes own those homes, compared with just 14 percent of people living in multifamily housing, a war on single-family homes was a war on homeownership.

In 1997, for example, planners in my former hometown of Portland, Oregon, set a target of reducing the share of Portland-area households who lived in single-family detached homes from 68 percent in 1995 to 41 percent by 2040. If they are successful, hundreds of thousands of people who would have preferred single-family homes will be stuck in apartments instead.³ To achieve this goal, they limited the land available for new single-family homes while they used tax dollars to subsidize construction of multifamily dwellings. Similar plans have been or are being written for cities and metropolitan areas across the nation.

In places with relatively unregulated housing markets, housing is inexpensive, and when demand increases—whether because of population growth, low interest rates, or loosened lending standards— homebuilders build more homes. When new single-family homes are restricted, housing becomes expensive, and increases in demand lead to higher prices rather than more housing, while decreases in demand result in lower prices—in other words, a housing bubble.

The lesson I learned from the housing bubble was that the American dream of owning a single-family home is so powerful that many Americans will go to extraordinary lengths to achieve that dream, including dedicating more than half their incomes to 30-year mortgages on those homes. But many other people learned a very different lesson: the mantra they repeated over and over was “As much as they might want to, some people shouldn’t try to own their homes.”

“Homeownership has let us down,” said Time magazine. “The dark side of homeownership is now all too apparent: foreclosures and walkaways, neighborhoods plagued by abandoned properties and plummeting home values, a nation in which families have $6 trillion less in housing wealth than they did just three years ago.”⁴ When the Census Bureau reported American homeownership rates had fallen from 69 percent in 2004 to 65 percent in 2010, housing economist Ryan McMaken responded that “the present rate needs to drop even more.”⁵ “The poor are better off renting,” agreed an op-ed in the Wall Street Journal.⁶

“Homeownership is overrated,” says urban planner Richard Florida. “Too many people in economically distressed communities are trapped in homes they can’t sell, unable to move on to new centers of opportunity.” Florida thinks more people should rent and that we should “updat[e] our definition of the American dream.”⁷

Is the American dream of homeownership dead? “In my opinion the American Dream as we know it is dead,” wrote financial adviser Suze Orman. “In many areas of the country, the dream of homeownership has backfired. Real estate values have deflated to such an extent that a record number of people owe more than their homes are worth.”⁸

American Nightmare explores the questions raised by the debate over homeownership. What is the “right” homeownership rate? Is “universal homeownership” possible or even desirable? What roles do the mortgage-interest deduction, Federal Housing Administration mortgage insurance, and other government housing programs play in influencing peoples’ decisions to buy rather than rent their homes? What are the real lessons of the housing-market crash? To answer these questions, this book looks at the history of home-ownership and its role in people’s lives and the economy as a whole.

As recently as 250 years ago, it is likely that fewer than 1 percent of the world’s families lived in their own homes. Even just 25 years ago, homeownership was a privilege enjoyed by only a small minority of people. Today, at least 60 percent of the world’s families own their own homes, and the percentage in many countries is much higher.

The United States was long a leader in this remarkable transformation. Throughout much of the 20th century, high U.S. homeownership rates contributed to the nation’s booming economy, encouraging other countries to remove local barriers to homeownership. But homeownership in this country may be little more than an accident of history. At the time the New World was being colonized, nearly everyone in Europe effectively rented their lands from their monarch, and many Dutch, French, and Spanish land grants in North America followed this pattern. But in 1629, King Charles I of England offered Massachusetts colonists “fee simple” land—that is, the opportunity to own land after paying a single fee rather than annual rents. Soon after the American Revolution, this form of land tenure became dominant in the United States, and Europeans, Asians, and others who wanted to own rather than rent land came to America for the opportunity to do so.

As late as the 1960s, America’s homeownership rate of more than 60 percent was one of the highest in the world. But at 65 percent today, America is barely in the middle of the pack. In the 60-some countries for which homeownership rates can be accurately determined, more than 75 percent of people live in their own homes. The fact that almost all those countries have lower per capita incomes than those in the United States flies in the face of the idea that American rates should be even lower because some people are too poor to afford a house.

Three different themes weave through American Nightmare’s exploration of this history. First, homeownership provides many benefits, particularly for the children in homeowning families. Yet the main benefits of homeownership accrue to the homeowners and their families, so there is little reason for government to subsidize or otherwise promote homeownership. Instead, government should get out of the way and let people decide to buy or rent depending on their personal needs and the real costs of each of the alternatives. If this happens, the United States will likely end up with a higher rate of homeownership even if today’s subsidies and political support for homeownership are eliminated.

Second, the recent financial crash did not result, as many believe, from a political effort to increase homeownership. Instead, it would be more accurate to say that the housing bubble and inevitable crash that followed resulted from a tension between federal policies aimed at increasing homeownership and state and local policies aimed at reducing homeownership. It would be even more accurate to say that the policies aimed at reducing homeownership caused the bubble, while some of the policies aimed at increasing it might have made the bubble worse than it otherwise would have been. But without the policies aimed at limiting homeownership, no housing bubble and no financial crisis would have occurred.

Finally, this book reveals that many of the superficially noble debates over housing, homeownership, and land use are really a form of class warfare in which members of the upper and middle classes attempt to shield their privileges, status, and lifestyles from the working and lower classes. One way of doing so is to promote policies that reduce homeownership—policies that were an underlying cause of the recent financial crisis, yet are overlooked by writers and analysts who have looked at that crisis and made recommendations for preventing future crises. Unless states and cities reverse these anti-homeownership policies, more housing bubbles and crashes are inevitable.

In short, homeownership did not let us down; government planners did by trying to discourage single-family homeownership. Their actions led to the housing bubble whose inevitable deflation was the catalyst for the financial crisis of 2008. This consequence suggests that it is both condescending and defeatist to think that some people should spend most or all of their lives as renters.

Why would anyone want to reduce homeownership? Around four out of five Americans own or dream of owning their own homes. But not all are certain they want you to own your own home. Many are certain they don’t want you to own a home near them—or on any land they regard as “theirs,” which can include millions of acres they don’t own but feel entitled to control to protect the pastoral or other scenic values they gain from that land. Debates over who gets to own a home, and where they can own it, fill a large portion of this book.

The term “American dream” was coined and popularized by an early 20th- century history writer named James Truslow Adams. His 1931 book The Epic of America used the phrase “American dream” more than 30 times and defined that phrase as “the belief in the value of the common man, and the hope of opening every avenue of opportunity to him.”⁹ Adams, in fact, wanted to name his book The American Dream, but his editor argued, “No one will pay three dollars for a book about a dream.” The editor was soon proved wrong, as the Library of Congress today lists more than 700 books whose titles contain the term “American dream” that were published after 1931 (and none before).¹⁰

Adams’s book did not specifically mention homeownership as a part of the American dream. Instead, he focused on “the belief in the common man and the insistence upon his having, as far as possible, equal opportunity in every way with the rich one.” One of those opportunities was the opportunity to own a home and a piece of land—a desire, other writers have shown, that extends far back into the nation’s history.

Thanks in part to advertising campaigns by realtors and home-builders, the American dream has become indelibly associated with homeownership in the public mind. But the American dream is more than just an advertising slogan: homeownership was originally an immigrants’ dream, as the opportunity to own land and a home attracted people from European and Asian nations where most residents were denied such opportunities through the end of the 19th century. Although Americans were once proud of providing that opportunity, for more than a century cities and states have passed ordinances and laws whose effective result, if not outright purpose, has been to reduce homeownership.

Homeownership did not become a middle-class dream until developers and planners figured out how to protect homes and neighborhoods from unwanted intrusions, such as factories, shops, and—ironically perhaps—working-class homes owned or occupied by immigrants and minorities. Unfortunately, the long-term result was to blanket much of the nation with land-use regulations that ended up making housing far less affordable.

Without this government regulation, anyone who could pay rent and come up with a modest down payment would be able to afford to buy a home if they want one. Not everyone wants to be a homeowner, and the debate over whether homeownership is really worthwhile for families or society at large is endless. But everyone who wants to be a homeowner should have the opportunity to do so. American Nightmare proposes a 10-point plan to both end subsidies to housing and remove restrictions from the housing market. I estimate that doing so will increase the American homeownership rate to as much as 75 percent.

To examine these issues in detail, American Nightmare first examines six somewhat overlapping periods in history, before the American Revolution through the post–World War II era. Chapters 7 through 10 look at specific postwar issues: the debate over urban sprawl, public housing for low-income people, government land-use policies, and urban renewal. Chapters 11 through 13 focus on the events leading to the recent financial crisis by looking at housing markets, the housing bubble, and the crisis itself. Chapter 14 reviews homeownership policies and housing markets in other parts of the world, while Chapter 15 shows how reforming America’s housing markets will increase homeownership and how that will help make America, once again, a land of opportunity.

Definitions and Data

Before exploring the history of homeownership in detail, defining some terms and identifying sources of data are important. Among the terms are “urban” and “rural”; “middle class” and “working class”; “cities” and “suburbs”; and “single-family home” and “multifamily housing.” Among the data are sources for homeownership rates, housing prices, and different ways of adjusting past dollars for inflation.

Urban and rural: Until shortly before 1920, the majority of Americans lived in rural areas—which, by Census Bureau definition, include isolated towns with fewer than 2,500 people. The nation’s first census revealed that barely 5 percent of Americans lived in communities—not necessarily incorporated cities—of 2,500 people or more. As late as 1900, 52 percent of Americans lived in truly rural areas outside cities or towns of any size at all.¹ Thus, the 18th- and early 19th-century American dream was more about farm ownership than homeownership.

Today, the Census Bureau defines an urbanized area as a central city and all its suburbs, incorporated or not, whose population totals 50,000 people or more. The Census Bureau redefines the boundary of each urbanized area at the time of each census. And although the definition has changed over time, in recent censuses it has generally included all land contiguous to the central city whose population density is greater than 1,000 people per square mile. An urban cluster is a central city and all its suburbs whose population ranges from 2,500 to 49,999 people. The 2000 census identified more than 400 urbanized areas and more than 3,000 urban clusters. Together, these areas are urban and all other lands are rural.

Urban areas are quite different from metropolitan areas, which are often used in media reports and some analyses. Metropolitan areas are defined by county boundaries, even though large parts of those counties may be rural. The Atlanta urbanized area, for example, covers fewer than 2,000 square miles of land, while the Atlanta metropolitan area extends over more than 6,000 square miles of land.

The history of homeownership is quite different for urban and rural areas. In 1890, for example, almost two out of three rural families lived in their own homes, but only about one out of six urban families did so. Data before 1890 are sparse, but this book will attempt to track the history of homeownership in both urban and rural areas to colonial times.

Middle class and working class: For many, owning a home is a sign of belonging to the middle class. A 1975 survey found that three-fourths of the members of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations—most of whom were, by definition, working class—owned their own homes, and most of them defined themselves as “middle class.”² Americans who pretend to be insensitive to class distinctions tend to define classes by income: upper, middle, and lower classes. In fact, however, distinct cultural differences existed and still exist between working-class and middle-class families even if they earn about the same incomes.

Working-class employees, also known as blue-collar workers, have little college education, earn wages, and have occupations that rely more on physical labor or repetitive activities. Middle-class or white-collar employees are more likely to be college graduates, earn salaries, and have jobs focused more on knowledge and analysis than physical labor. Mainly because of differences in education, the middle class and working class have significant differences in tastes.

Most sociologists break these two groups down still further. The upper-middle class might include corporate executives and top doctors and lawyers; the central-middle class would include middle managers and other professionals; the lower-middle class might include clerks and other low-level managers. Working-class employees are often broken into skilled, semiskilled, and unskilled. Outside these groups are the wealthy—sometimes called the leisure class—who don’t have to work and the hardcore poor, sometimes called the underclass, who for some reason are unable to work regularly.

Social class is more than about money; it is about status and opportunity as well. Some divide the upper class into two groups: old money and new money; old money has, at least to some, a higher status. In the latter part of the 20th century, many working-class jobs paid as much or more than some middle-class jobs. Yet as sociologist Bennett Berger observes, “It is a great mistake to equate an income which permits most of the basic amenities of what the middle class calls ‘decency’ with becoming middle class.”³

One way to show off status is to buy better-quality (or at least more-expensive) goods that are highly visible, such as houses and cars. The purchase of a Cadillac or Mercedes is as much, if not more, about status as it is about transportation. But this type of status display is difficult if your income is no greater than the income of those whom you are trying to impress. In that case, people instead try to deny lower-status people access to those status symbols. As Berger says, “Status groups respond to the clamor by money for prestige by tightening their entrance requirements.”⁴ For example, old-money owners of cooperative apartment buildings in New York and Boston often reject new-money applicants, such as Calvin Klein or Barbra Streisand, who want to move into one of those apartments.⁵ Middle-class efforts to deny homeownership status to working-class families forms the deep background behind much of the debate over land use.

An important question for Americans is social mobility, that is, how easily people or their children can move into a higher class. America is supposed to be the nation where anyone can grow up to be president. Yet the most recent president who came from what we would today define as a working-class background was James Garfield. Elected in 1880, Garfield was one of only two presidents who were actually born in a log cabin. The Roosevelts, Kennedys, and Bushes were old-money, upper-class families. The fathers of other recent presidents had upper-middle-class or middle-class occupations, including a manufacturer (McKinley); a lawyer (Taft); a medical doctor (Harding); an engineer (Eisenhower); politicians (B. Harrison and L. Johnson); ministers (Arthur, Cleveland, and Wilson); small-business owners (Carter, Coolidge, Hayes, Hoover, Nixon, and Truman); and salesmen who, depending on how successful they were, were at least lower-middle-class (Ford and Reagan). Obama’s father was an economist and his mother an anthropologist.

This history suggests that social mobility in the United States is more myth than reality. Many sociologists believe that, although Americans are highly mobile geographically, social mobility is more limited. Historian Stephan Thernstrom found, for example, that only about one out of five working-class employees in the industrial city of Newburyport, Massachusetts, managed to move into the middle class in the 19th century.⁶ Looking at Boston in the 20th century, he found that this pace stepped up slightly to one out of four.⁷ This book will argue that homeownership can help children of working-class families move into the middle class, and that efforts to restrict homeownership hamper such social mobility.

Cities and suburbs: The distinction between cities and suburbs is confusing because people often mean different things when they use these terms. Demographically, the central city is the largest, and usually the oldest, city (or sometimes two cities, such as Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota) in a metropolitan area, while the suburbs are the cities and other developed lands contiguous to the central city. Stereotypically, cities have higher population densities, lower incomes, and lower rates of homeownership than their suburbs.

These stereotypes are not always realistic. The population densities of suburban Los Angeles, Miami, and San Francisco are greater than the densities of most other central cities. The densities of many suburbs, particularly in the Sun Belt, are as great or greater than their central cities. Median family incomes and homeownership rates in many central cities, particularly those in the Sun Belt, are greater than in their suburbs. In fact, of the nation’s 50 largest urban areas, about half have higher homeownership rates in their central cities than in their suburbs.⁸

Urban planners often deride low-density suburbs as “sprawl.” The Sierra Club once labeled Los Angeles “the Granddaddy of Sprawl.”⁹ Yet the Los Angeles urban area (which includes Pasadena, Anaheim, and nearby suburbs) is the nation’s densest urban area, about 25 percent denser than the New York City urban area (which includes much of northern New Jersey).

One source of confusion is that American cities were built in three eras: the pedestrian era, before 1890, when most people walked; the streetcar era, between 1890 and about 1920, when many people traveled by urban transit; and the automobile era, after 1920 (but mostly after World War II), when most people traveled by car.

Manhattan, Brooklyn, and much of Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, Providence, San Francisco, and Washington, D.C., were built in the pedestrian era and feature high-density, mid-rise housing (high-rise in the case of Manhattan) mixed with other uses, including retail and offices. Manhattan has about 60,000 people per square mile, while the densities of Boston, Chicago, and Philadelphia are 11,000 to 13,000; San Francisco has more than 16,000, while the densities of Providence and Washington are above 9,000 and Baltimore’s is 8,000.¹⁰ Most other inner cities built in the pedestrian era have been redeveloped and no longer have these characteristics.

Much of Los Angeles, Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Portland Oregon, and Seattle were built in the streetcar era, and their residential areas consist largely of moderately high-density single-family housing on small lots. Los Angeles has an average density of nearly 8,000 people per square mile, and its suburbs are close to 7,000 people per square mile. Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and Seattle have 6,000 to 7,000 people per square mile, while Denver and Portland have 3,000 to 4,000. Developments along streetcar lines outside the pedestrian-oriented inner cities are sometimes called streetcar suburbs, even though most of those suburbs have since been annexed into their central cities.

Most Sun Belt cities, including Atlanta, Dallas, Houston, and Phoenix, were built almost entirely in the automobile era, so they typically have much lower population densities than the pedestrian or streetcar cities. Atlanta, Dallas, and Houston have 3,000 to 3,500 people per square mile, while Phoenix has only 2,800. The suburbs of streetcar- and automobile-era cities were built mostly in the automobile era and have around 2,000 people per square mile.

In short, densities of 1,500 to 2,500 are typical of auto-era suburbs; densities of 2,500 to 3,500 are typical of auto-era central cities (which may include some streetcar neighborhoods); densities of 3,000 to 6,000 people are typical of streetcar-era cities; and densities of more than 8,000 people are typical of mixed pedestrian-/streetcar-era cities. All these densities are for entire cities or regions, including the commercial, industrial, and open-space portions of those regions. True pedestrian-era neighborhoods will have much higher densities of around 20,000 to 30,000 people per square mile.

Another source of confusion results from the fact that some central cities include a much larger share of their urban areas’ population than others. This larger share occurs because some states have granted cities the power to annex suburbs without the permission of the landowners or residents being annexed, while other states require a vote of those being annexed. Cities with strong annexation powers typically have more than half the people in their urban area, while cities with weak annexation powers typically have much less than half.

Indiana, North Carolina, and Texas have all given cities strong annexation powers. Indianapolis has 64 percent of the population of its urban area; Charlotte has 71 percent; Houston has 51 percent; and San Antonio has an amazing 86 percent. By comparison, Los Angeles has 31 percent of the people in its urban area; Orlando just 16 percent; and Portland, Oregon, 33 percent, all in states whose cities can only annex with the permission of the people being annexed.

Some correlation appears to exist between states with weak annexation powers and states that have passed growth-management laws giving regional planners the power to plan all the cities in an urban area. Virtually all the states with growth-management laws have weak annexation authority. Apparently, if cities cannot gain control of their suburbs through annexation, they will attempt to use other means, such as regional growth-management planning, to do so. This correlation suggests that a lot of the debate over urban sprawl, which is covered in detail in Chapters 7 and 9, is really a debate over who gets to control growth and tax revenues.

Land-use regulation and other government actions also have a significant influence on densities and other differences between cities and suburbs. Manhattan’s high densities are partly due to high-rise projects built, often with government funding, during the automobile era. The densities of some other cities, such as San Jose, California (6,900 people per square mile), are high more because of land-use policies, such as urban-growth boundaries, than because they were built in the pedestrian or streetcar eras.

Single-family and multifamily: Stereotypically, single-family homes are owned by their occupants while multifamily housing is rented. This is one stereotype that is fairly valid. The 2000 census found that 87 percent of single-family detached homes, and more than 84 percent of all single-family homes, including row houses and mobile homes, were owner occupied. Meanwhile, 86 percent of multifamily homes, from duplexes on up, were rented.¹¹ In 2000, 216 million Americans lived in some form of single-family housing, while 57 million lived in multifamily homes.

Single-family homes can be divided into single-family detached and single-family attached homes, the latter of which includes row houses. Nationally, the 2010 census found that more than 61 percent of housing is single-family detached; less than 6 percent is single-family attached; 26 percent is multifamily; and 7 percent is mobile home, boat, recreational vehicle, or van. Around 20 to 30 percent of the housing in the Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C., metropolitan areas is single-family attached, as is a little more than 10 percent of the housing in Miami, Minneapolis, San Jose, and Virginia Beach. Row houses and other attached housing make up less than 10 percent of homes in most other urban areas.¹²

In the early 2000s, many urban planners believed that American housing preferences were changing from single-family to multifamily homes. One planner predicted that the nation would have a huge glut of single-family homes by the year 2020 as empty nesters and young households without children would move to inner-city multifamily housing.¹³ Those predictions encouraged developers to build what turned out to be a glut of high-rise condominiums in many cities.¹⁴ Time will tell whether the demand for such housing will increase with the economic recovery.

Homeownership rates and prices: The Census Bureau first asked people whether they owned or rented their homes in 1890, and data became more detailed in each successive census. Beginning in 1960, the census asked for both home values and family incomes, so housing affordability—measured by dividing median home prices by median family incomes—can be gauged by state and urban area. The Federal Housing Finance Agency has published quarterly housing indexes by state and metropolitan area going back to 1975. These reports represent some of the most important data used in this book.

Money today and yesterday: A 1912 dollar is no more equal to a 2012 dollar than a British pound is to an American dollar. Although at any given time the factors for converting international currencies are relatively simple, there are many different ways of converting the value of dollars in one period to those of another. As appropriate, this book will rely on one or more of three standards: the consumer price index (CPI), a gross domestic product (GDP) index, and an unskilled wage index.

The CPI is based on changes in the cost of a number of goods and services, including food, housing, and transportation, regularly purchased by consumers. Of course, the food, housing, and transportation we enjoy today are very different from those of 100 or 150 years ago, and the index fails to account for such quality differences. It also fails to account for differences in personal incomes. Where the CPI focuses on consumer goods, the GDP index takes all goods and services into account, including those used by government and industry. The CPI is best when comparing costs to individuals and families; the GDP index is best when looking at government budgets over time.

To account for differences in housing costs and incomes, this book also uses an unskilled wage index. This index indicates how much work an unskilled worker would have to perform to buy equivalent goods at different points in time.¹⁵ It produces results that are quite different from the CPI or GDP. For example, a working-class home that might have cost $2,000 in 1890 is worth about $50,000 today using the CPI and $47,000 using the GDP index, but nearly $250,000 using the unskilled wage index, indicating that unskilled workers earned far less, relative to middle-class workers, in 1890 than they do today.