You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘housing’ tag.
GDP is “the size of our economy,” the sum total of goods and services produced by “our economy” consolidated into a single dollar figure. In case you didn’t already know this, how big it is, and how fast its growing, is considered by many observers to be important. When it doesn’t seem to be growing as fast as it was in the past, people write books.
It’s also probably not surprising to anyone who reads this blog (BREAKING: it still exists) that how we measure GDP is, when you dig into it, at least a little weird. For starters, the border between what is and isn’t “the economy” as opposed to “stuff people do with their time” is a little fuzzy. Plus, stuff that seems to definitely be party of “the economy” is occasionally hard to measure. This ends up with the rent that homeowners don’t actually pay themselves but are “imputed” to pay themselves to work out to be 5-10% of all of GDP!
When you think about it, that isn’t wrong—we obviously spend a lot of money building houses, buying new and used houses, fixing broken houses, and renting houses we don’t own, in a way that suggests a) houses are definitely part of the economy and b) if we don’t measure the benefits homeowners get from owning very larger economic objects then GDP will look weird as a result. The folks who do this for a living explain it better and more thoroughly than I can.
But when you think about it, it does suggest that the legal and economic structure of relationships between people and institutions can matter a lot in deciding what does and doesn’t go into GDP. To wit, let’s visit a parallel universe, one where America is just the same as it is today except for one big difference.
In this universe, there is a very popular thing called The Netflix Organization that millions of Americans use to stream content. Everything physically and institutionally about The Netflix Organization and how people use it is the same as Netflix in our universe, but legally it’s structured just a little differently:
- The Netflix Organization is collectively owned by its members, not its shareholders.
- Its shareholders are actually all creditors who just have a set of unusually-structured debt contracts with the Netflix Organization.
- The monthly fees that owners pay to The Netflix Organization are actually collective contributions by the owners to
- pay organization staff and other costs;
- service debt payments (actual debt + dividends in our universe)
- cover depreciation; and
- engage in capital improvements (improving streaming performance and UIs, creating and buying rights to new content).
So here’s what would be weird about this universe—if you just left it here, GDP would be exactly the same as it is in our universe. But you wouldn’t just leave it here. Because the owners of Netflix don’t seem to be making any income! Yet they’re collectively paying billions every year to support this capital that they collectively own, which wouldn’t make any sense if it wasn’t producing economic value to its owners. So you need to impute the value of streaming Netflix content to users, and consider that economic output that would be added to GDP.
And depending on how you calculate it, that’s a lot of value. Netflix claims American users streamed 42.5 billion hours of content last year. How would you impute a dollar value onto that? Well, an average movie ticket last year cost $8.43. The average movie is around 2 hours; so you could impute a value of $4.215/hour streamed. But of course each hour streamed is probably viewed by more than one person; let’s just stipulate that the average works out to around two.
You would then impute a value of Netflix Organization income to its owners of $358 billion—which would add around 2% to 2015 GDP! And not only that—Netflix streaming is growing rapidly, from 29 billion hours in 2014. That figure would’ve only added 1.3-1.4% to 2014 GDP; put another way, the growth in Netflix streaming alone boosted nominal GDP growth by 0.6-0.7 percentage points last year.
Now, the assumptions I used to impute economic value to Netflix streaming are more than challengeable. But the point is that, in this parallel universe, you would very likely have to go through the exercise and impute something. We don’t do that in our universe because Netflix is considered to be selling a product to consumers, and therefore the product is automatically valued at the purchase price when it’s considered for addition to GDP. Which is fine! Fundamentally what I’ve done above is to rearrange a bunch of activity not considered economic in our current framework into something different purely on paper, with no real world change, and yet prompt a potential—and potentially large—reevaluation of our core economic metric.
The point of this exercise—and this post—isn’t that “GDP is bad” or “GDP isn’t accounting for disruptive tech, bro” or “the Lucas critique/Goodhart’s law/Cambell’s law,” although it necessarily includes a little of all those things. It’s mostly just that there’s an inherently arbitrary nature to measuring anything, and that if you want to measure something, you should probably measure it in a lot of different ways.
Basically, they inverted the BEA’s Regional Price Parities and mapped it – cool!
It needs a bit of context, though. Specifically, there’s something very clearly driving this outcome. Fortunately for us, BEA subdivides the RPPs into Goods, Rents, and Other Services, and provides us with a good-enough guide to how it weights them that we can create a parallel “non-housing cost” index and see what happens. And what do you know?
Once you exclude housing, the distribution of outcomes is much narrower and much more clustered around its central tendency. Or more bluntly – everywhere costs a lot more like everywhere else when you don’t consider housing.
Of course we should consider housing! It’s really important! But we should also be clear what expensive housing means – lots of people want to live somewhere. Often because wages are high. And guess what? If we graph the state rent index against state per capita income:
It becomes pretty clear that higher wages (or at least higher average incomes) are likely the reason housing prices are high.
So if you live in DC, you’re probably not paying that much more for most things than an Alabaman is; you’re just paying a premium to live in a high-wage area that can’t – or won’t – build enough housing to keep up with the demand to live somewhere wages are high.
My post last week on the case for homeownership as an investment has received some good feedback (the e-word is hereby banished from this blog), a good chunk of which has been constructively critical. While I responded to specifics in comments, I also wanted to supplement the post by fleshing out the remainder of the argument and adding a couple of points.
It has been pointed out to me that there are certain costs – mostly taxes, insurance, and maintenance – that weren’t included in my spreadsheet and only implicitly in my analysis. This is – for the most part – true! I did handwave away depreciation, as much for the sake of simplicity as anything, but I only touched on the other two to the extent that they’re wrapped up into the rent counterfactual. Let’s delve into that some more.
Rent – the price of shelter to non-owners – is in the simplest analysis driven by the same things that drive all markets prices: supply and demand. That means rents aren’t directly responsive to the costs of housing, but those costs do impact the supply curve. If the costs of creating and renting new housing can’t be justified by rents, then supply will not rise even if demand does, driving up prices until they are so justified. Therefore, in general we should expect the costs of renting shelter to be similar (though not equivalent) to those incurred by the owner of the same. In fact, I bet if you play around with The Upshot’s ‘Buy vs. Rent’ calculator, you’ll find that housing and rental costs are very similar.
This brings me to my next point; while people have pointed out what costs I didn’t include, fewer have mentioned the benefit I didn’t include in my analysis, even though that benefit is much vaster. I focused solely on the capital gains returns of buying a house to demonstrate the power of leverage, but the huge share of the returns to a house are the rents you receive as an owner. This is central to any complete case in favor of homeownership. It is further worth noting that these imputed rents are, in fact, an enormous share of our economy.
Net imputed rents, as I pointed out in my Piketty thinkpiece which seriously you must have read this thing by now also tend to be fairly stable, returning between 4-6% of the house’s price over time.
This chart actually understates the stability of imputed rents (as the former chart makes clear) since most of that volatility is driven by volatility in the denominator. For context, here’s the Case-Shiller index, since basically forever (with bonus real interest rate series):
While volatility has more recently increased (consider that my application for the Understatement of the Year Award), note that houses, at the very worst, tend to be inflation proof (the Case-Shiller is a real, not nominal, index) – an asset whose nominal price grows alongside inflation while consistently returning 4-6% annual net returns is, hey, not too bad, and if you can use tax-privileged leverage to buy it, not too bad at all. Especially since we’re going to pay a bundle for housing no matter what we do:
…using housing as a vehicle for savings makes an additional sense.
That leads me to an additional point on volatility; here’s Shiller’s stock price index, also since basically forever:
That looks a lot more volatile than house prices, huh? Which brings us to a key point – as asset price volatility increases, so does the importance of investment timing. This, as Neil Irwin recently noted, can make long-term averages of returns misleading.
While his examples are obviously stylized, they clearly-enough make the point that otherwise-identical savings behavior in a volatile market can achieve vastly different outcomes depending on the timing of returns even holding long-term average returns constant. Therefore, the relative stability of housing returns – prices + rents – helps savers reduce long term risks.
I want to conclude, though, by taking a major step back and examining the whole purpose of this exercise. When we’re talking about savings from a consumer perspective (not from an investment perspective) what we’re talking about is retirement; and when we’re talking about retirement, we’re always talking about the same somewhat-odd phenomenon. When a person retires, they cease all economic production through labor, yet continue to demand a share of the economic output of their society. We tend to view these claims as just and deserved because they are made by the elderly, who we feel have earned it/are unable to work/are generally venerable (as opposed to similar claims from the non-elderly poor, which we treat very differently) but that doesn’t change the underlying structural nature of the phenomenon, in which we are trying to ensure that a substantial portion of the adult population is consuming an broadly-equally-substantial portion of present economic output while providing no inputs.
Debates about savings and retirement, therefore, are all about how to structure this phenomenon – specifically, what network of programs, policies, mechanisms, incentives, and behaviors we want to establish to justify to the working and capitalists that a portion of their labor and capital outputs be directed to the non-working old, which we often do by creating mechanisms that somehow tether those portions of redistributed present income to guarantees of future income. All governments in wealth nations do this, and the ways in which they vary are influenced heavily by politics, ideology, and other socioeconomic factors. In the United States, our prevalent ideology around a certain kind economic freedom means we tend to be less generous in direct public redistribution and instead attempt to subsidize private savings through the tax code and public insurance – ergo, 401(k)s, the home mortgage interest deduction, and the Pension Benefit Guaranty Corporation. Indeed, the increasing prevalence of that ideological strain is driving defined benefit plans into extinctions in favor of defined contribution plans.
This leads us to many debates about the best savings vehicles for middle class Americans, yet those debates are to a decent extent a red herring – the vast majority of retirees receive the majority of their retirement income from Social Security, and for many, it’s all the income they have – though to be consistent, I’m nearly certain the figures in the chart below don’t include imputed rents, though I could be wrong, and this is important because 80% of seniors are homeowners:
This is very good evidence for the proposition that a vastly disproportionate share of the private-savings-for-retirement subsidy network flows to those who need it least. And it suggests that questions like “houses v. stocks” are, for many Americans, mostly a red herring – if we want to put more money in the hands of retirees, we should simply make Social Security more generous – or, in a better world, maintain it at its current level of generosity while implementing a Universal Basic Income.
This, of course, is an increasingly common view in the “internet wonk community” (one I consider myself an member of), distinct from the related and equally-prevalent view that ‘homeownership should be much less subsidized than it it now.’
This is also a view I take issue with, which you’d already know if you read my big Piketty #thinkpiece – you read my big Piketty #thinkpiece, right? right? – and one that I think needs a little elucidating and defending in detail.
There are three basic reasons that buying a house is a vastly better investment than current wonkpinion suggests. The first is that making large leveraged investments can pay off hugely even if the underlying growth rate of the purchased asset is slow. Let’s demonstrate.* Let’s take an average American buying an average house in an average way – $200,000 purchase price, 20% down, 4% closing costs, 5% interest rate. Now let’s say the value of that house grows reeeeeeeally slowly – just 0.3%/year, which just so happens to be the compounded annual growth rate of the Case-Shiller index since 1947.
If our average American sells their house after 10 years, their initial $48,000 equity investment will become $67,691.08 – which means their equity grew at a CAGR of 3.5%! If they sell after 15 years, they’ll net $92,209.57, which is a CAGR of 4.45%. Hey, that’s a lot higher than the 0.3% growth rate of the house’s price itself, isn’t it?
It sure is! The amazing power of leveraged investments is that you can turn a little bit of equity into a large return, as Matt Yglesias notes concisely here. Here, in fact, is a nice little graph demonstrating the implied return rate of selling your house after making regular mortgage payments for a given number of years, given the interest rate paid, assuming that meager 0.3% growth rate:
After 13 years, you’ll get a 3% return even at a very high interest rate; at 19 years, you’ll get a 4% return. In fact, you can assume zero growth and still get a substantial return on your initial investment – as long as you don’t count the regular payments on the debt.
Hey, what about the regular payments on the debt?
Good question! This brings us to my next two points. Because if leveraged investments are so awesome, why don’t we empower (and perhaps subsidize) average people to make large leveraged investments in stocks, which have a much larger underlying growth rate? Beyond all the other problems with that idea (not that nobody has pitched it), the thing about a house is that it has an unusual counterfactual. If you buy stocks with leverage, in theory the payments on the debt should come out of your savings, creating a counterfactual of simply saving and investing that money. But the counterfactual to owning is renting. This creates some curious conditions that lead to my next two points in favor of buying a house – inflation protection and subsidies.
There is obviously some connection between the purchase price of a house (and therefore the amortized monthly payment on the mortgage) and the rent it could fetch – regardless of where you fall on the capital controversy that dare not speak its name, there must be some fundamental link between the price of an asset and its expected returns. However, a mortgage is detached from the imputed rent (the flow of sheltering services) a house delivers, and therefore is nominally frozen in a way that rents are not. So therefore even if a mortgage today is substantially more expensive than the rent payment on an equivalent housing unit, in thirty years even very low inflation will change that drastically. Just 2% average annual inflation entails an 80% increase in the price level over three decades, meaning the annual mortgage payment declines by nearly half over that time. Rent, in the meantime, keeps going up (except in rare cases which can entail its own problems), at least as fast as inflation. Therefore even a mortgage whose monthly payment is more expensive than a rent payment today will be much cheaper than renting in a few years.
Aha, you might say, but there is a problem with this – the magic of compound interest means that the difference-in-monthly-payment savings accrued today by the renter will be much more valuable in retirement than the parallel savings accrued years from now by the owner. This is true! But that’s where the subsidies kick in. Our primary national subsidy for homeownership is to allow mortgage-payers to deduct the interest portion of their payments from their income – and the amortization structure of mortgages means the share of payments comprised of interest are highest right when the mortgage begins, and declines until the loan expires:
This benefit comes when “housing” costs – really, housing-purchase-debt costs – are at their highest, also because earlier in life is when incomes are their lowest. It is difficult – very difficult – to defend the home mortgage interest deduction as currently structured, as such a large portion of the benefit goes to such a small and disproportionately well-off group. It is worth considering, though, whether the idea at the core of the program is sound. And either way, whether you think we should have them or not doesn’t mean that you don’t consider them when considering what constitutes a good investment under the status quo.
Of course, I haven’t even touched on imputed rents once a house is fully-owned (or, conversely, actual rents), which are of course the most important return to a house, well beyond the capital gains discussed heretofore. But this leads to the most important conclusion: not that houses are such a great investment per se; just that they’re a great investment for people without a lot of capital because of their unique pathway to leverage. If you had half-a-million dollars, should you buy a house (or apartment) to rent or a portfolio of financial products? Almost always the latter. But if you only have an order of magnitude less than that to your name, it may make sense to buy something with a lower return (not to mention wholly undiversified) because you can lever up. Just another way that large capital concentrations can secure higher returns – or at least exercise more freedom of action.
Spreadsheet, as always, attached – calculate your own expected returns on your housing investment!
*All of these numbers are real and net-of-depreciation unless otherwise noted.
So these are the three largest components of GDP, all indexed to 1960:
Clearly one of these is not like the others, but the well-known fact that investment, not consumption or government spending, is mostly what fluctuates with the business cycle is very visible. I wanted to dig a little deeper, though, especially to compare the current recession to priors. So I made this graph:
Bars are unbroken periods of percent change in GPDI; their height is the total percent change in the period, their width is the length.
Here it is smoothed a bit using a highly-advanced method called “arbitrary eyeballing”:
And this time with feeling:
While none of these three graphs is perfect, looking at all of them the various recessions we’ve experienced and their depth and breadth become quite clear. And it seems striking that our current mess represents a vastly larger and longer decline in private investment then any prior recession since WWII.
So let’s break down GPDI; the biggest component is the broad heading of “fixed non-residential investment:”
Looking at the log (which is quite often a good idea, see James Hamilton for more) you can see that this recessions seems notably but not dramatically more severe than past downturns, and that we are on a decent track for recovery.
But here’s residential structures:
Wowzers. Two facts worth noting: residential investment has fallen off a cliff and is nowhere near recovering; the so-called “housing boom” is barely visible.
That becomes a little clearer, though, when you look at single-family construction vs. multifamily and “other” (dorms, trailers, etc):
Single-family construction clearly gets a little wacky during the mid-aughties, whereas multifamily is catching up from slacking on trend; since then, multi-family is rebounding while other is wishy-washy and single-family is really terrible.
What’s remarkable about all this, though, is that you can with some confidence say non-causally that recessions are, for all intents and purposes, fluctuation in housing construction.
In the past, we’ve had recessions, interest rates are cut, recession over. Now, interest rates can’t be cut, and we’re not building enough housing, and therefore there’s too much unemployment (especially among the young who are largely the building class):
In fact, relative to older folks, this is the worst the young have had it since the 70s:
Now, why does lowering interest rates reverse recessions? There are many good reasons, but to some extent they’re all about setting expectations. When the Fed “cuts rates,” what is doing is what its doing is just buying lots of government securities, which is what “quantitative easing” is; the difference between the former and the latter is the ends, not the means. The former is a kind of credible expectation setting of broader outcomes – “we will buy bonds until interest rates are where we say they should be, dammit.” The latter sets a much narrower expectation that doesn’t necessarily imply broader changes in the economy.
Now, there is an idea out there that Paul Krugman calls “the confidence fairy,” which he belittles…and he’s right (at least in practice)! As it is formulated by conservative pols and pundits as a partisan cudgel, it basically amounts to a non-sequitur; recessions, ergo, implement the tangential policies we support regardless of economic conditions (derp).
But I’m not sure the confidence fairy is entirely a fiction. In what I think is a bit of a cousin to Steve Waldman’s story of finance as the world’s most important confidence game, it seems like in the past recessions have been alleviated because the Fed creates self-fulfilling prophecies – by buying bonds to depress interest rates, they incentivize individuals to invest based on an implicit assumption about future growth dependent on their investment. And it all worked rather nicely until we hit the ZLB:
The thing that the Fed has fundamentally failed to do is pull their usual trick; they haven’t convinced anyone that the economy will be better tomorrow, so they’re not doing the things today that will create that improvement.
This, in a roundabout way, is where I get to responding to Ryan Cooper’s terrific article making the case for helicopter money. Helicopter money is a good idea. I like it. I support it. It is a humane, fair, and efficient way to help everyone get through hard times. But my gut tells me its not, on its own, enough to kickstart us out of the funk our economy is in. While the biggest reason the 2008 tax rebate didn’t help the economy was its puniness relatively to the impending crisis, it was doubly hobbled by the fact that it was a one-off with no guarantee of being repeated (which it hasn’t, though the payroll tax cut was it’s cousin). Ryan supports giving the Fed the power to mail checks unilaterally, not by implicitly supporting a fiscal-side program, which is a great idea – coordinating the king and the wizard can be a tricky game. But even then, a $2000 check can be extraordinarily helpful in the medium term to people in need, but it in-and-of-itself does not a housing construction recovery make. Helicopter money works best, and may work only, as the whip hand of a credible promise by the Fed of meeting a broader economic target; it can, though, be a very persuasive whip.
Some of this may reflect a misunderstanding. If Gudger is worried about taxes, then she’s presumably a homeowner worried about an increase in property values that would actually be pretty lucrative for her. But something like 57 percent of D.C. residents are renters, and it’s almost certainly more than that in poorer communities. And those renters are correct to think that improvements in neighborhood-level public services and amenities will in many cases be against their interests. That’s a very unhealthy political dynamic. Disagreement is a natural part of democracy, but disagreement about the desirability of things getting better is a symptom of a larger policy failure. After long decades of urban decline, cities that are once again growing need to think about creating housing abundance not just niche programs for the poorest of the poor. A better city that more people want to live in needs to sound like a good proposition—like it means more jobs and a broader tax base than can support more services—rather than an engine of displacement.
Here’s the thing – if you are a homeowner in a once-poor neighborhood that is now rapidly gentrifying, you probably have received a windfall. If you purchased a home in Shaw in a year beginning in “19,” you’ve probably seen a nominal return on investment in that time in the several-hundred-percent range. The complicating factor is that all that gain is in a single, (mostly) indivisible and highly illiquid asset and that, while your income likely did not increase by several-hundred-percent, your property tax bill sure did. So if you’re a working class probably-black person who bought a house in DC for less than $100,000 in the 80s that’s now worth $500,000 thanks to drastically lower crime and Metro and Big Bear then in one sense you won the lottery, but the only way to collect your winnings is to leave your home and community. For a lot of people, that’s quite the catch.
And it’s not so obvious that there’s anything you can do about that. A cap on yearly property tax increases would only mitigate the problem while creating perverse incentives for policymakers. A shift from a property tax to a land tax wouldn’t change the fact that it is, in fact, the land that increased in value. Re-zoning for higher density is a good idea but will also, as Yglesias himself has noted, make the land even more valuable not solving the problem. Something like Chicago’s Tax Increment Financing keeps the benefits in the community but doesn’t change the dynamic. In the end, without some very direct, kludgy, and in many ways counter-productive interventions into the general system, when a neighborhood sees a large and rapid increase in desirability you’re probably going to scatter the incumbent residents whether they rent or own. And while you have probably created a large net improvement in social welfare, there’s still a substantial and difficult-to-quantify cost in lost communality that’s hard to recoup.
The strangeness of the current situation is driven by what was, essentially, a one-two punch of political upheaval and a lead epidemic that made what are, fundamentally, very desirable neighborhoods temporarily very undesirable. When those factors largely dissipated and you toss in something like a shiny new subway we were always going to find ourselves in this odd situation. The good thing about it is that it will largely correct itself and the neighborhoods that “ought” to be expensive will be and vice-versa and then we can begin to re-establish community and more directly transfer resources from the rich inhabitants of gentrified neighborhoods and the exiles who weren’t lucky enough to have owned their home.
This probably would have been better blogged last Monday, but better late than never – walking past a beautiful house on my block with a "Sale Pending" sign reminds me that we’d all be better off if our tax returns were public.
Think about the housing market. When a buyer and seller go to transact the sale of a house, both are armed with a lot of information – the last sale price of the house, as well as the last sale price of every similar house in that neighborhood and metro area, along with detailed information about the size of that house and its lot and its age and how many bathrooms it has. A common meme has it that the diminishing average time between listing and sale is a sign of bubbliness in the housing market, but it could just be the internet and ability of buyers and sellers to focus in on a narrow range of "correct" sale prices with far greater ease.
On the other hand, labor markets are a hornet’s nest of bamboozlement, opacity, resentment, and potential exploitation. Not knowing what anyone else is paid to do what work and especially given high unemployment, the median workers has relatively little leverage with which to bargain.
"But Squarely," you’ll say, "people have a right to privacy!" And so they do. But I would assert that one’s salary is sufficiently distinct from information indisputably covered by a right to privacy that, at the very least, it’s not axiomatic that one’s wages are inherently private. Firstly, if you work for the public sector, they’re not private. This includes public universities – if you want to know how much Tyler Cowen makes, just go find out. Secondly, if you play professional sports, they’re not private. Thirdly, if you are the CEO, CFO, or one of the other three most highly-paid officers of a public company, they’re not private. Fourtly, similar disclosures are required for public charities. Fifthly, while not required, these kinds of disclosures are expected of candidates for public officers, unless you’re, oh, what was that guy’s name? You know, that guy. Anyway.
Clearly, there are certain other unobjectionable concerns that override the right to salary privacy in many cases. And this is clearly distinct from other kinds of "private" activity – a database of who public employees have slept with, or what publications the CEOs of non-profit organizations choose to read in their homes, would clearly engender outrage, while publicizing their salary does not. I think making all salaries public (via the mechnanism of tax returns, perhaps truncated, edited editions for public consumption) would have salutory effects on labor markets and the labor share of national income. If you disagree, I think you need to disagree on those grounds.
Ryan Avent responds to Rob Pitingolo with much more skill and charity then I could ever muster.
In DC we have a very stupid rule that restricts building height, even though we are a popular city with lots of transit and high employment that lots of people want to live in. This leads to increased cost of living as demand for space in desireable neighborhoods in DC exceeds supply.
This also leads, however, to other distortions that I don’t think Height Act supporters really want to see. For example, in doing some casual rental hunting I went the other day to see an apartment listed in LeDroit Park, which is of course a lovely neighborhood and a nice place to live. And one of the reasons it’s so nice is that it is filled with lovely houses. And the apartment I went to see was, in fact, in one of those lovely houses that had been carved up into pieces. And this apartment in particular was kind of wacky, since really it was the foyer of the house combined with its basement, which is not really how one would otherwise design a living space. And it made me wonder how many other houses in LeDroit Park and other, similar neighborhoods were similarly sliced and diced into rentals.
Now, Height Act supporters want to protect neighborhoods like LeDroit Park. But really it doesn’t. If people who want apartments in DC can’t live in tall, managed buildings near Metro stations, then someone who owns a house will get the idea that they could be making a lot of money by renting it out to 4, 5, even 7 or 8 different people who might want to live there. And thus gentrification spreads faster and more traditionally residential neighborhoods become de-facto apartment blocks. If you allowed some of the land near Metro stations to be developed into dense, mixed-use urban walkable smart-growthy neighborhoods, then that would meet the demand and LeDroit Park and other neighborhoods like it would remain neighborhoods full of homeowners. But instead you have a sort of gentrification sprawl where since it can’t go up it spreads out and more and more homeowners become landlords and more and more cute neighborhoods become playgrounds for young professionals.
Fortunately it does seem like there’s hope that our next At-Large Councilmember might be forward-thinking on this issue.