New Zealand has a worse housing crisis than the UK. So what’s its new Labour government going to do about it?

Auckland, 2004 vintage. Image: Getty.

What first strikes you about advertisements seeking flatmates in Auckland is how old the pre-existing occupants are. Encouraged by the spectacular demand for housing in New Zealand’s largest city, these mini-gerontocrats’ advanced years make them demanding cohabitees. Arriving in Auckland to take up a job with the opposition New Zealand Labour Party and beginning my search for a room, I encountered the quotidian bans on loud music, but also more esoteric promulgations on the acceptable times to fry an egg.

in Auckland, where a third of New Zealanders live, the housing crisis is even more acute than in London. The median house prices to median income ratio is, amazingly, higher. Nationally – the picture is likely to be worse in Auckland – 75 per cent of under 40s rent. (In London, it’s about 45 per cent.)

Private sector rents in the down-at-heel south of the city are comparable to cheaper parts of London, but here the housing stock is especially poor quality, and basic amenities are often lacking or prohibitively expensive.

This crisis was at the very top of voters’ minds when they elected a Labour-led government last month. One in three Aucklanders felt it was the single most important issue of the election. Notably – and, a cynic might add, of importance politically – concern was as high amongst the over 50s as the under 34s.

Labour has a bold plan to build 100,000 new homes in ten years: more on a per capita basis than UK Labour promised in its 2017 manifesto. Bolder still, in Auckland, where half the new properties are to be built, homes will sell at about half of current average value.

So how, and crucially, where, will these houses be built? And how will they be so cheap?

The policy most admired by the British left is the ban on foreigners buying existing property. This is expected to have an immediate effect on prices at the top of the market, and to ultimately redound throughout the market.

It is probably the only policy aimed squarely at reducing prices. But the effect of foreign buyers on prices is probably overstated; in both Auckland and London, foreign buyers account for under 5 per cent of property transactions.

The other major demand-side intervention is the plan to reduce migration by up to 40 per cent. The effect of migration on house prices is of course hugely contested. Some say the relationship is more correlational than causational – a strong economy both attracts migrants and makes house prices rise. For what it’s worth, a study commissioned by the previous government found the effect to be small, but the central bank found that a 1 per cent increase in population due to migration led to an 8 per cent rise in prices over the following three years.

Even if the reduction in new arrivals does significantly reduce prices, it may also have a deleterious effect on the construction industry, which needs a further 30,000 workers over the next two years. Combined with the planned rise in the minimum wage, this cut to migration could in fact push up house prices.

Even if prices fall (and a surprising number of homeowners favour this), such an outcome is not without risks. Britain’s trade deficit is made just about manageable by foreign direct investment in property, which includes behaviour such as foreigners acquiring construction companies. New Zealand, even relative to its much lower GDP, has a smaller, and declining, trade deficit, so could probably tolerate the reduced FDI falling property prices would result in.

However, as in the UK, pension funds are heavily invested in property. Moreover, the wealth effect – the phenomenon whereby homeowners spend more freely when they feel their property is worth a lot – applies as much in New Zealand as anywhere.

On the supply side, one might expect New Zealand’s proportional electoral system to result in less NIMBYism, but this is not the case. During the campaign, Labour was rightly accused of hypocrisy for opposing significant developments within already built-up areas. Instead, Labour promised to abolish the Urban Growth Boundary, which is similar in design to the UK’s green belts.

In reality, the UGB has been vitiated over recent years. It is perfectly possible for developers to obtain consent for large projects outside the boundary. In London, the Green Belt’s force – and expectation of its continued stringency – is revealed in the ratio of residential land value to green belt land value, which can be up to 100:1 for neighbouring plots. In Auckland, a 2007 study estimated the ratio to be around 10:1, but, as I say, the UGB has been substantially attenuated since.

This ratio shows two things. First, investors surmise, quite reasonably, that the restrictions may be further diminished in the future. Second, properties far from the city centre – whether inside or outside the current boundary – are not, or are not expected to be, especially sought after.

Herein lies the nub. Auckland’s transport infrastructure is appalling. About 50 public transport trips per person per year are made in Auckland – versus 1,000 per person per year in London. Without major improvements to infrastructure the very outer fringes of Auckland will not be desirable.

So building upwards, not outwards, in what is a reasonably sparsely populated city is the better option. Labour ducked this fight at the election, but soon it must be had. The evidence is that densification to a point improves cities: it makes public transport investment more effective, it encourages cycling and walking, and it enlivens high streets. Urban sprawl achieves the opposite.

I expect that Labour will fall short of its lofty aspirations, but, in raising housing to the top of New Zealand’s political agenda, the foundations have been laid for more forceful interventions in the future. If, over its forthcoming three year term, the crisis is not significantly ameliorated, the party will face siren calls on its left flank for interventions such as rent capping.

My message to those people is also my message to Auckland: grow up.

Kieran O’Halloran is a former New Zealand Labour Party Staffer.


How the rise of anti-crime politics caused lasting harm to Black Americans

"I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become," James Forman Jr. says. (David McNew/Getty Images)

The police killing of George Floyd, and the protest movement that emerged from it, has reinvigorated a national conversation around reinventing criminal justice policy in the United States.

At the same time, reports that violent crime is rising in many US cities have resurrected talk of the much-disputed “Ferguson effect,” a theory put forward by law enforcement professionals, and some researchers, who argued that police slowdowns in the wake of the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests resulted in elevated rates of violent crime. President Donald Trump is trying to weaponise this narrative, paired with images of federal officers clashing with protesters in the streets of Portland, to wage a 1968-style backlash election campaign.

“People who want to mobilise a lock-them-up style of either policing or prosecution have tried to weaponise those short-term increases,” says James Forman Jr., professor of law at Yale Law School. “Criminologists will say you have to be very, very cautious about short-term movement [in crime statistics]. We don't know whether or not what we're seeing right now [with violent crime increasing] is going to sustain itself. But the fact is, it's here and people are talking about it.”

In 2018, Forman won the Pulitzer Prize in nonfiction for his book Locking Up Our Own: Crime and Punishment in Black America. Drawing on his experience as a public defender in Washington, DC, he traced the emergence of anti-crime politics in late 20th century Black communities. Forman showed how newly empowered Black politicians fought for policies they believed would protect and uplift Black Americans, but inadvertently contributed to mass incarceration. 

CityMetric recently caught up with Forman to discuss crime trends, where he sees reason for hope in this moment and how the Black political class’s attitude toward crime and punishment has shifted since the latter part of the 20th century. 

This interview has been edited and condensed. 

There is talk right now about a resurgence of crime and violence in American cities. We saw similar, more localised concerns after the initial 2015 Black Lives Matter protests in Ferguson and Baltimore. Do you fear this could reinvigorate the kind of politics you describe in your book among segments of the Black community and political class?

I fear that it could be reinvigorated nationally and also in the Black political class. Look at the political conversations that are happening in Atlanta right now, for example, a city that also has seen a short-term uptick in crime as it is a site of a lot of protests about George Floyd and Breonna Taylor on the national level, as well as Rayshard Brooks and Ahmaud Arbery more locally in Georgia.

I think that you can already see in some of the language of the local elected officials this idea that we have to be very careful about pulling back. [They are saying] “while the protesters may make some valid points, we can't risk returning to the ‘80s and ‘90s.” Those decades really traumatised the United States, and particularly traumatised Black communities. There's a deep fear about returning to the levels of the violence that we saw in the crack years.

You write a lot about class divides among Black Americans, where middle income and elite Black people don't suffer as much from extremely punitive policies. They also have closer ties to the politicians who are creating these policies. There are very specific groups of people, even in marginalised communities, whose voices are heard.  As a result of these dynamics, you write about Black politicians fighting for things like mandatory minimum prison sentences or against decriminalising marijuana. Is there still that disconnect between those who suffer the most from criminal justice policies and those who are actually heard in political discourse?  

Let me just say a caveat, that when we talk about class divisions in the Black community it's important to hold two truths in our head at the same time. Bruce Western and others have shown the way in which class, educational status, income can dramatically reduce the likelihood of being hardest hit by the criminal system – namely incarcerated. Middle class and upper middle class Black people get some measure of protection. It's also true at the same time that Black people of all classes are worse off relative to their class counterparts in the white community. 

One area where class is least protective is policing and police stops. The police do not know how many degrees you have. They don't know how much money you have in your bank account. I want to be very clear that in making this point about class, I'm not making the argument that race or racism don't matter in this context. 

In terms of how it plays out now, I see an awareness that has developed in the Black community in the last 10 years or so about how deeply racist the criminal justice system has become. Twenty or 30 years ago they had a consciousness, but there's levels of understanding. Many of the people I write about in the book wanted to promote the interests of the Black community. They weren't motivated by indifference or callousness. When presented with mounting evidence of how awful this system has been in Black lives, they're reconsidering and recalibrating. 

Lots of former elected officials have said to me some version of “I didn't know at the time and I appreciate that you showed us in our full complexity. I appreciate that you showed the pressures we were under. If I had known then what I know now, maybe I would have been less quick to go along with some of these harsh measures.” 

The second thing that has affected the Black political class has been the emerging movements, led by Black people in particular and led by young people. They not only educated leaders, but pressured them and made them understand that there is a political cost. If you're not moved by the moral argument, then you'll be moved by the political argument. You'll be moved by the people protesting outside the office of District Attorney Jackie Lacey in Los Angeles, for example, where Black Lives Matter LA has held, I believe, a year of consecutive protests against a Black district attorney who has had really some of the worst practices.

From what I can tell, she's been pressured by the movement to change some of her positions on important issues like prosecution of low-level drug offenders, for example, and the aggressiveness with which she prosecutes police officers for acts of violence.

What do you make of the calls to defend or even abolish the police?

What I find so compelling about abolition, initially in the prison context and extended to the police as well, is that it shifts the conversation and forces us to go through experiments in which we imagine what it would take to build that world. I think that exercise is very important, because it pushes us further than we are naturally inclined to go. Cultivating a broader imagination is an incredibly important part of this work, because as you know from my book, often it was lack of imagination that caused people to fall back on [punitive policies]. 

That's what caused D.C. Councilmember David Clarke to call the police rather than public health experts when he was overwhelmed with letters about heroin addicts in public space. He was anti-drug war, but he couldn't imagine responding to a call for help with heroin addicts with anything other than police. That's a very common move from even really good and progressive people. 

People who are for defunding, for abolition, are absolutely right about reinvesting that money into alternative structures that support communities. But the reinvestment part doesn't follow naturally from the terms. We might want to come up with a term that captures the new stuff we want to do. I think that's particularly important because one of the reasons Black communities have ended up supporting more police is that Black communities have always wanted their fair share of the resources.

Then, the evidence suggests the United States has too many police officers doing prophylactic, preventative, or stop-and-frisk style policing. The style of policing that leads to district level harassment, pulling people over for no reason. But we have too little investment in the parts of police departments that investigate unsolved crimes. I'm talking about the investigator or the detective who comes to your house after there's been a robbery, an assault, a rape, or homicide. 

As compared to European countries, in the United States we actually underinvest in those parts of our police departments. Jill Leovy’s book Ghettoside shows this in dramatic detail. She describes an LAPD that's stopping and frisking Black drivers wantonly and yet the homicide detectives are still relying on a fax machine and the fax machine is broken. They have to go with their own money to Staples to buy a printer. Meanwhile, other aspects of the department are kitted out in this ridiculous riot gear that makes them look like they're in Fallujah. 

That under investment is particularly damaging to Black communities because we're disproportionately victimised by crime. Because of racism and this allocation of resources, the police are less likely to respond in Black communities. The kids I used to work with in the charter schools in DC, we talk about no snitching, but one of the reasons they would never call the police after they'd been victimised by crime is they would say, “They're not even going to come. You're wasting time.” 

I did a Q&A with Jill Leovy too and her argument is one I've struggled to articulate in our present moment. She argues the state doesn't have a monopoly on violence in low-income Black neighbourhoods, because investigations of violence are deemphasised and crime victims or their loved ones often take retribution into their own hands.  But right now, establishing or preserving the state's monopoly on violence isn't an appealing talking point. 

Yes, this is another thing nobody's talking about. Whatever we're going to do instead of the police has to be accountable to the public. The best, most direct way to have accountability is to have the individuals be public employees. As long as we have 300 million guns in this country at least some of those state employees are going to themselves be armed. It's unreasonable to ask them to do the job without it. Not as many need to be armed as are armed now, but some of them need to be. But they can't be hiding behind union contracts or civil service protections which make it impossible to remove even the worst performing, most abusive officers. 

We can not call them police if we want to. That's semantic, but maybe symbolism matters. But those people have to be state employees. They can work with community-based nonprofits, but there are also communities that don't have as robust of a nonprofit network, and they deserve protection too. These [community] groups have to be accountable to the state and, when they don't exist, the state has to be there. 

Progressives get all the points I just made when it's applied to education. The notion that things be public and accountable to the state is understood when it comes to schools. It's exactly why so many people on the left are opposed to charter schools, because they say they don't have public accountability. They want these things to be a state function. But this point about the difficulty in removing this entirely from the hands of the state is, I think, one that liberals and progressives understand from other contexts.

Jake Blumgart is a staff writer at CityMetric.