A global house-price slump is coming

 It won’t blow up the financial system, but it will be scary writes The Economist

Oct 20th 2022

Over the past decade owning a house has meant easy money. Prices rose reliably for years and then went bizarrely ballistic in the pandemic. Yet today if your wealth is tied up in bricks and mortar it is time to get nervous. House prices are now falling in nine rich economies. The drops in America are small so far, but in the wildest markets they are already dramatic. In condo-crazed Canada homes cost 9% less than they did in February. As inflation and recession stalk the world a deepening correction is likely—even estate agents are gloomy. Although this will not detonate global banks as in 2007-09, it will intensify the downturn, leave a cohort of people with wrecked finances and start a political storm.

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The cause of the crunch is soaring interest rates: in America prospective buyers have been watching, horrified, as the 30-year mortgage rate has hit 6.92%, over twice the level of a year ago and the highest since April 2002. The pandemic mini-bubble was fuelled by rate cuts, stimulus cash and a hunt for more suburban space. Now most of that is going into reverse. Take, for example, someone who a year ago could afford to put $1,800 a month towards a 30-year mortgage. Back then they could have borrowed $420,000. Today the payment is enough for a loan of $280,000: 33% less. From Stockholm to Sydney the buying power of borrowers is collapsing. That makes it harder for new buyers to afford homes, depressing demand, and can squeeze the finances of existing owners who, if they are unlucky, may be forced to sell.

The good news is that falling house prices will not cause an epic financial bust in America as they did 15 years ago. The country has fewer risky loans and better-capitalised banks which have not binged on dodgy subprime securities. Uncle Sam now underwrites or securitises two-thirds of new mortgages. The big losers will be taxpayers. Through state insurance schemes they bear the risk of defaults. As rates rise they are exposed to losses via the Federal Reserve, which owns one-quarter of mortgage-backed securities.

Some other places, such as South Korea and the Nordic countries, have seen scarier accelerations in borrowing, with household debt of around 100% of gdp. They could face destabilising losses at their banks or shadow financial firms: Sweden’s central-bank boss has likened this to “sitting on top of a volcano”. But the world’s worst housing-related financial crisis will still be confined to China, whose problems—vast speculative excess, mortgage strikes, people who have pre-paid for flats which have not been built—are, mercifully, contained within its borders.

Even without a synchronised global banking crash, though, the housing downturn will be grim. First, because gummed-up property markets are a drag on the jobs market. As rates rise and prices gradually adjust, the uncertainty makes people hesitant about moving. Sales of existing homes in America dropped by 20% in August year on year, and Zillow, a housing firm, reports 13% fewer new listings than the seasonal norm. In Canada sales volumes could drop by 40% this year. When people cannot move, it saps labour markets of dynamism, a big worry when companies are trying to adapt to worker shortages and the energy crisis. And when prices do plunge, homeowners can find their homes are worth less than their mortgages, making it even harder to up sticks—a problem that afflicted many economies after the global financial crisis.

Lower house prices also hurt growth in a second way: they make already-gloomy consumers even more miserable. Worldwide, homes are worth about $250trn (for comparison, stockmarkets are worth only $90trn), and account for half of all wealth. As that edifice of capital crumbles, consumers are likely to cut back on spending. Though a cooler economy is what central banks intend to bring about by raising interest rates, collapsing confidence can take on a momentum of its own.

A further problem is concentrated pain borne by a minority of homeowners. By far the most exposed are those who have not locked in interest rates and face soaring mortgage bills. Relatively few are in America, where subsidised 30-year fixed-rate mortgages are the norm. But four in five Swedish loans have a fixed period of two years or less, and half of all New Zealand’s fixed-rate mortgages have been or are due for refinancing this year.

When combined with a cost-of-living squeeze, that points to a growing number of households in financial distress. In Australia perhaps a fifth of all mortgage debt is owed by households who will see their spare cashflow fall by 20% or more if interest rates rise as expected. In Britain 2m households could see their mortgage absorb another 10% of their income, according to one estimate. Those who cannot afford the payments may have to dump their houses on the market instead.

That is where the political dimension comes in. Housing markets are already a battleground. Thickets of red tape make it too hard to build new homes in big cities, leading to shortages. A generation of young people in the rich world feel they have been unfairly excluded from home ownership. Although lower house prices will reduce the deposit needed to obtain a mortgage, it is first-time buyers who depend most on debt financing, which is now expensive. And a whole new class of financially vulnerable homeowners are about to join the ranks of the discontented.

Dangerous properties

Having bailed out the economy repeatedly in the past 15 years, most Western governments will be tempted to come to the rescue yet again. In America fears of a housing calamity have led some to urge the Fed to slow its vital rate rises. Spain is reported to be considering limiting rising mortgage payments, and Hungary has already done so. Expect more countries to follow.

That could see governments’ debts rise still further and encourage the idea that home ownership is a one-way bet backed by the state. And it would also do little to solve the underlying problems that bedevil the rich world’s housing markets, many of which are due to ill-guided and excessive government intervention, from mortgage subsidies and distortive taxes to excessively onerous planning rules. As an era of low interest rates comes to an end, a home-price crunch is coming—and there is no guarantee of a better housing market at the end of it all. ■

Even super-tight monetary policy is not bringing down inflation

 

Welcome to Hikelandia, writes The Economist, where price growth just won’t cool

Oct 23rd 2022 | SANTIAGO

It feels a little unfair. In July 2021, as rate-setters in America and Europe dismissed the risk of entrenched inflation, the Central Bank of Chile got its act together. Worried that inflation would rise and stay high, its policymakers voted unanimously to lift rates from 0.5% to 0.75%. The bank has since raised again and again, outpacing investors’ expectations and taking the policy rate all the way up to 11.25%. Perhaps no other central bank has pursued price stability with such dedication.

Has the star pupil been rewarded? Hardly. In September Chile’s prices rose by 14% year on year. The central bank’s preferred measure of core inflation accelerated to 11% year on year.

Chile’s example speaks to a wider problem. Many pundits say that if only the Federal Reserve, the European Central Bank and others had “got ahead of the curve” by quickly raising rates last year, the world would not be struggling with high inflation today. The experience of Chile, and other places that tightened early and aggressively, casts doubt on that argument. All over the world, it is proving extraordinarily difficult to crush prices.

The Economist has gathered data on Chile and seven other countries in which the central bank started a tightening cycle at least a year ago, and did so after having slashed interest rates to an all-time low early in the covid-19 pandemic. The group includes Brazil, Hungary, New Zealand, Norway, South Korea, Peru and Poland. Although Russia would have qualified, we have excluded it because its circumstances are unique.

Call the unlikely gang “Hikelandia”. In the year to October 2022 the median economy in Hikelandia raised rates by about six percentage points. If as expected the Federal Reserve raises rates by 0.75 percentage points on November 2nd, America’s cumulative increase over the past year will still be nowhere near as big.

Unsurprisingly, turning the monetary screws has slowed Hikelandia’s economy. The housing sector has quickly come off the boil as mortgage rates have risen. House prices are drifting down in New Zealand. South Korea’s pandemic housing boom has ended. Goldman Sachs, a bank, produces a “current-activity indicator”, a real-time measure of economic strength. Using its data, we find that Hikelandia’s economy is weakening relative to the global average. And there is worse to come. Chile’s central bank expects gdp to shrink next year.

Inflation, however, remains stubborn. Central banks often focus on the rate of “core” inflation, which excludes volatile components such as energy and food, and better reflects domestic inflationary pressures. In September core inflation in Hikelandia’s economy hit 9.5%, year on year, up 3.5 percentage points from March. Worse still, the gap between global core inflation and Hikelandia’s reading seems to be widening, not shrinking.

Dig into the national statistics of Hikelandia, and the trends become even more concerning. Chile’s wage growth continues to accelerate. In September South Korea’s inflation rate in the labour-intensive service sector was 4.2% year on year, its highest since the early 2000s. In the past six months Hungary’s service-sector inflation has climbed from 7.2% to 11.5%. Across the club, inflation is becoming more “dispersed”, affecting a wider range of goods and services. In September the price of 89% of the components of Norway’s inflation basket rose by more than 2% year on year, up from 53% six months before. In research on Poland, published in late September, economists at Goldman Sachs found evidence that “underlying inflation momentum has picked up again”.

Hikelandia’s struggles raise three possibilities. The first is that it is currently unrealistic to expect inflation to fall. Research suggests that there are lags, sometimes long ones, between tighter monetary policy and lower inflation. It is also tricky to control inflation when almost every currency is depreciating against the dollar, making imports more expensive. All this may be true. But after being surprised again and again by inflation, you would be brave to bet that Hikelandia’s inflation will soon be anywhere near central banks’ targets, even if conditions begin to improve.

The second possibility is that policymakers, including those in Hikelandia, have not been sufficiently courageous. Perhaps central banks should have raised interest rates more aggressively. This is an argument stridently made by Chile’s remaining “Chicago Boys”, libertarian economists who spearheaded the country’s free-market reforms in the 1970s.

Governments might also do more to help out. After ramping up spending when the pandemic struck, the median budget deficit in Hikelandia has fallen, but is still wide at 3% of gdp. Further increases to taxes or cuts to public spending would help reduce demand. Yet this strategy carries risks, too. Implementing austerity during a cost-of-living crisis would be deeply unpopular. And Chile, which has nonetheless taken the plunge and is forecast to run a budget surplus this year, is still seeing little payoff in terms of lower inflation.

That leads to a third possibility—and the most worrying one. Perhaps inflation is simply harder to stop than anyone could have predicted a year ago. In a report published in the summer the Bank for International Settlements, a club for central banks, hinted at this possibility. In a “low-inflation regime”, the norm before the pandemic, no one paid much attention to prices, ensuring they did not rise quickly. But in a “high-inflation regime”, such as in the 1970s, households and firms start to track inflation closely, leading in time to “behavioural changes that could entrench it”. If the world has shifted from one norm to another, then more creative tools will be needed to cool prices. 

Censorship in the UK and USA

 

A political backlash against monetary policy is looming

Martin Sandbu in The FT

Three weeks ago, Sanna Marin, Finland’s prime minister, retweeted a link to an article by a Finnish academic together with the following quote: “There is something seriously wrong with the prevailing ideas of monetary policy when central banks protect their credibility by driving economies into recession.” 

Defenders of those prevailing ideas predictably pushed back, warning against second-guessing independent central banks or not valuing their credibility. But defensiveness is the wrong response. Not just because Marin didn’t actually criticise any central bank actions. But, more profoundly, because avoiding a debate over whether our macroeconomic regime is fit for purpose is more perilous than having one. 

Comparisons with the 1970s often fail to notice one important lesson of that decade: a macroeconomic regime that cannot justify itself will be toppled, first intellectually, then politically. It was from the ashes of 1970s monetary chaos that theories were born justifying independent central banks with a mandate to keep inflation low. Before the century was out, independent inflation-targeting was de rigueur in most advanced economies. 

Forty years on, a new intellectual and political reckoning would be less surprising than the absence of one. The “great moderation” produced by the 1980s monetary revolution has in many countries long been accompanied by stagnant wages for the low paid. The glacial recovery from the global financial crisis prompted the world’s two biggest central banks to revise their policy framework during the pandemic. In 2020 and 2021, the Federal Reserve and the European Central Bank vowed to tolerate a period of higher inflation if employment had further to rise or there would be little room to loosen policy in case of a downturn. But this new attitude fell at the first hurdle. 

With cost of living crises biting and recessions looming in key advanced economies, what are the odds of avoiding a more profound reckoning for much longer? Marin is not the only national leader expressing unease about central banks. French president Emmanuel Macron recently worried aloud about “experts and European monetary policymakers telling us we must crush European demand to contain inflation better”. 

Precisely because central bankers are independent, it falls to political leaders to tell their citizens why it is right to meet Russian energy blackmail with actions to clamp down further on incomes and jobs. They would be remiss if they did not question whether this is the best we can do. 

In comparison, central bankers have it easy. They have legally imposed inflation-fighting mandates, which are not for them to question. And they have an argument: that losing their “credibility” — by which they mean people no longer believe they can keep inflation low — will cost even more jobs and lost income. 

But the credibility of central banks itself is only as good as the credibility of the macroeconomic regime as a whole. That is not to say central bank independence should be jettisoned, but to ask openly whether it actually works for the economy. 

In pursuit of individual mandates central banks may be collectively overtightening, as Maurice Obstfeld has suggested. Or monetary policy uncoordinated with fiscal policy may be making matters worse, as Marin hinted in follow-up comments. 

The IMF has warned governments against budgeting “at cross-purposes” with monetary tightening. But raising interest rates puts monetary policy at cross-purposes with fiscal policy priorities such as investing in the green transition or, indeed, in energy infrastructure that would itself remedy energy-induced inflation. Even if monetary considerations should take priority, such monetary dominance is undoubtedly something to be democratically debated, not technocratically imposed. 

It may even be that central bankers are not independent enough but cave in to the political pressure arising from each new monthly record in current inflation, rather than coolly focusing on their benign medium-term forecasts. 

Like in the 1980s, in time bright economists will suggest better ways of designing monetary policy against energy price shocks. And unless we have a lucky escape from a sharp downturn this winter, a political backlash is surely coming too. The alternative to openly debating these issues in a democratic space is to let that backlash fester until it breaks out in the more radical and dangerous form of a populist assault on institutions. Central banks’ credibility would not be worth much then.

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