Introduction
One would have to look far and wide to find even a single American oblivious to the “subprime mortgage crisis.” Even today, more than five years after the first cracks in the housing bubble began to show, Wall Street and Main Street continue to feel aftershocks of the collapse in the US housing market. Millions of homeowners have been displaced through foreclosures or defaults, while myriad others find themselves underwater in their current homes. Lehman Brothers, Bear Stearns, Merrill Lynch, and Countrywide, to name a few, were either bankrupted outright or absorbed by larger banks. Survivors find themselves struggling to absorb legacy losses from bad mortgages and mortgage-related litigation. The Government Sponsored Enterprises, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, remain on public life support, with continuing injections by taxpayers. Credit for home purchases is tight or non-existent, and the once vibrant private securitization market for mortgages has yet to revive. Amidst this tangible economic devastation, however, policymakers and political theorists have yet to reckon with the moral consequences of the subprime crisis. As we will suggest in the following article, housing policy in the United States must be understood not just in terms of quantifiable economic metrics such as profit, loss, growth, or economic efficiency, but maybe more importantly in terms of its moral dimensions.
While it may seem improbable that public policy—let alone housing policy—has moral implications, social scientists have long recognized a relationship between politics and policy.Footnote 1 Central to the development of this “policy feedback” framework are new institutionalists such as Theda Skocpol, whose study of Civil War pensions and the development of the welfare state demonstrates beyond a doubt that as “politics creates policies, policies also remake politics.” For Skocpol, new policies not only transform the capacities of the state, they also “affect the social identities, goals, and capabilities of groups that subsequently struggle or ally in politics.”Footnote 2 More recently, political scientists developing this perspective have explored how “government policy fundamentally transform[s] its target population.”Footnote 3 Andrea Campbell, for example, outlines how policies like Social Security and Medicare “spawned interest groups and created a political identity for seniors … [a] vigilant constituency able to defend its programs.”Footnote 4 For most of these scholars, the studies have a normative bent—at issue is whether “policies further or thwart democratic processes.”Footnote 5 Suzanne Mettler has demonstrated that as a federal policy, the G.I. Bill created the so-called Greatest Generation—a generation of citizens with unparalleled levels of civic engagement.Footnote 6 Even so, policy need not always create better citizens, as Joe Soss (et al.) have determined with regard to poverty governance. “Neoliberal paternalistic” policy, such as drug testing for welfare recipients, Soss tells us, “reduces citizenship to a market role and ‘de-democratizes’ the citizenry in far-reaching ways.”Footnote 7 Likewise, if one considers land use in American cities or the “suburbanization” of America to be artifacts of policy rather than purely market forces, Eric Oliver and Stephen Elkin have suggested that civic engagement—rather than efficiency or equality—might be a desirable normative outcome of the policy process.Footnote 8 Whether or not the policies further or thwart civic engagement, political scientists agree that policies do, in fact, have moral implications and can foster particular sets of citizen dispositions and capabilities.
In keeping with this literature, both normative and empirical, we want to suggest that housing policy can be an instrument for either inculcating or undermining a specific constellation of civic virtues. Rather than focusing on economic efficiency, social justice, or even civic participation, we maintain that housing policy should also be evaluated on its success at cultivating the virtues of good homeownership and by extension a good society. The central task of this paper is to defend such a set virtues, and to sketch out, at least provisionally, how public policy might be recalibrated to encourage them. Conversely, the critical side of our argument is to call attention to the manifold ways that American housing policies of the past 30 years ran contrary to these normative goals. While otherwise well-intentioned, the policies that sought to bring homeownership within the reach of all Americans resulted in unforeseen and deleterious consequences that were not merely, or even primarily, economic. In particular, these policies encouraged a mindset that we would like to call house-marketeering, rather than homeownership.Footnote 9
In what follows, we bring the new institutionalism and political theory debates over the formation of citizen character into dialogue with financial crisis and housing policy discussions. In keeping with the approach recently adopted by Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson, we start from the conviction that political theory offers a distinctive perspective on thorny policy issues, and that political theorists are well-positioned to suggest an alternative set of dispositions that can help to alleviate the major political crises of our day.Footnote 10 Following this model, we will reflect on what a virtue-based perspective on the housing crisis might consist of; suggest how a political theory perspective differs from other competing approaches; and use this perspective to develop a modest set of policy prescriptions about housing and mortgage policy intended to enrich conversations among political scientists, theorists, and policy-makers.
The Nuts and Bolts of Subprime Mortgages
It is a virtual truism that homeownership lends itself to good community. This conviction was the driving impetus for Margaret Thatcher's notion of the “right to buy” which paved the way in 1980 for the wholesale privatization of British council housing.Footnote 11 George W. Bush encapsulated it in a 2004 speech when he unveiled the “Ownership Society” as an overarching principle for several domains of American policy, including housing.Footnote 12 To be sure, there is some debate about whether homeownership per se is what fosters a sense of community, neighborliness, and civic involvement.Footnote 13 As Stephanie Stern has objected, long-term renters also manifest high degrees of civic engagement and, controlling for tenure of residency, they seem to be largely indistinguishable from property owners.Footnote 14 And yet unlike renting, the essence of homeownership is a conscious decision to put down roots in a community. Homeownership leads to neighborhood stability and thus, presumably, to the cultivation of trust, social capital, and civic engagement.Footnote 15
For most Americans, the economic reality is that purchasing a home requires a mortgage. Rare indeed are buyers who can write a check for their dream home, and without the ability to finance a significant portion of the purchase price, homeownership would remain the province of the privileged few. Traditionally, home buyers needed a significant down payment (usually 20% or more) and committed to a 30 year mortgage with a fixed rate of interest. According to these conservative standards, dictated by the local savings and loan or “thrift” who planned to hold the note to maturity, or later, according to securitization practices developed in the United States in the 1970s and 1980s, homeownership was relatively exclusionary. For better or worse, the small-town thrift officer's discretion, the securitizer's stringent rules for “conforming” loans, and the discipline of the marketplace conspired to screen out borrowers unable to save the requisite down payment or to demonstrate the sterling credit necessary to qualify.Footnote 16
Arguably the most significant development of the 1990s was the proliferation of new, more creative financial instruments. Among these were the notorious “subprime mortgages.” Broadly speaking, “subprime mortgage” is a catch-all term referring to loans made to borrowers with damaged or non-existent credit who would not otherwise qualify for a “prime” or “conforming” loan. In addition to true “subprime” loans made to applicants with mediocre FICO scores, other more aggressive mortgage products that flaunted traditional underwriting standards flooded the market in the late 1990s and early 2000s. These included so-called “Alt-A” loans, which were non-conforming loans made to otherwise credit-worthy borrowers; no-income, no-asset verification loans, or “NINJAs,” where borrowers (or their brokers) simply fabricated their financial data; and various kinds of pay-option, no or low down payment, adjustable rate, and negative amortizing loans. The cumulative effect of these and other aggressive loan products, accompanied by relaxed standards for conforming loans, was to increase structural leverage within the housing market, resulting in a housing bubble and aggravating the severity of the collapse.Footnote 17
The origin of subprime mortgages is difficult to date precisely, as there have always been options for credit-challenged borrowers. Aggressive investors—known as “hard money” lenders—lingered at the margins of housing finance, charging usurious rates to borrowers they fully expected to default in large numbers. However, the origins of what came to be known as the “subprime industry” is commonly associated with the passage of two legislative acts in the 1980s—the Depository Institutions Deregulation and Monetary Control Act, which was intended to benefit the beleaguered Savings and Loan Industry, and the Alternative Mortgage Transaction Parity Act, which allowed for new and more creative first lien mortgages.Footnote 18 Here we seem to have an instance where a particular set of state policies—welcomed by the market—had unintended but transformative consequences.
With the elimination of traditional regulatory restraints came firms specializing in subprime such as Long Beach Mortgage, Ameriquest, New Century Financial, Washington Mutual, Golden West, and eventually—but only belatedly—the now-infamous Countrywide Financial. Moreover, under pressure from the Clinton and Bush administrations to expand homeownership for Americans, and losing market share to private-label securitizers, the GSE's Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac themselves began to relax standards for conforming loans. Minimum credit scores, for example, were lowered, as were income requirements and loan-to-value ratios. With easier access to loans, demand for houses skyrocketed, as did home prices. This proliferated speculative house purchases, house flipping, and ever-growing debt burdens.
In his Confessions of a Subprime Lender: An Insider's Tale of Greed, Fraud, and Ignorance, Richard Bitner offers a first-hand glimpse into the pathologies of the industry. After functioning for many years as a kind of scratch and dent market on the margins of the housing industry, catering to borrowers with credit problems, employment gaps, and bad luck, not to mention “strippers, cons, pimps, thugs, and various other upstanding citizens of the community,” the financial sector, Bitner witnessed, embarked on a perverse race to the bottom whereby one firm's willingness to offer a risky new financial product compelled others to follow suit.Footnote 19 Abysmal credit, 100% of home value, pay-option only, negative amortization, no verification of documentation—all became the order of the day.
The prospects of ever-increasing home values lured otherwise responsible homeowners into treating their homes like ATM's. The vast majority of subprime loans were made not to finance new purchases of homes but to refinance existing homes and to draw out equity.Footnote 20 The proverbial subprime borrower was a Las Vegas car salesman who repeatedly refinanced his home to buy new cars, boats, and vacations, overstating his income and assets each time. Such an individual typifies all the vices of the period. Driven to dishonesty by shortsightedness and greed, he chose short-term gratification over long-term moderation and good judgment. In the end, finding himself hopelessly underwater with his re-refinanced mortgage, his commitment to his home, neighborhood, and community evaporates and he elects to walk away. While hardly an evil man, he nonetheless falls short of even those subprime virtues we are proffering as minimal requirements for a decent society.
The Subprime Virtues
Just as new institutionalists have shown that state policies reflect moral preferences and generate (or undermine) citizen competencies, there are analogues to these developments in the subfield of political philosophy. At first glance, however, the notion that policy ought to foster virtue seems to run afoul of the self-professed neutrality and anti-perfectionism of late twentieth-century liberalism. “Individuals,” John Rawls famously argues in A Theory of Justice, “find their good in different ways,” and unlike in cases of justice where citizens strive for social consensus, “there is no urgency to reach a publicly accepted judgment as to what is the good of particular individuals.”Footnote 21 In Political Liberalism, Rawls claims that because of diverse views of the good, the state must avoid appeals to “comprehensive” moral doctrines. Rather, public policy ought to confine itself to principles of justice that can be derived from public reason and thus accepted by all citizens as part of an “overlapping consensus.”Footnote 22
Rawls is not alone in this commitment to neutrality. Many incarnations of liberal political philosophy purport to be neutral with respect to the character, aspirations, and purposes of citizens. According to F. A. Hayek, liberalism requires only an underlying agreement about the appropriate means individuals may adopt in pursuit of their self-chosen ends.Footnote 23 In the language of Michael Oakeshott, so long as cives duly submit to “adverbial” moral conditions, the state or civitas ought to be purposively neutral.Footnote 24 Judith Shklar eschews any notion of a summum bonum in favor of the mere prevention of cruelty.Footnote 25 Bruce Ackerman goes so far as to make the “neutrality principle” the very essence of liberalism.Footnote 26
Not surprisingly, this principle of liberal neutrality has come under fire from communitarians, natural law theorists, and “strong democrats.”Footnote 27 Critics such as Michael Sandel, Charles Taylor, Benjamin Barber, Alasdair MacIntyre, and Robert George have excoriated the legalistic, procedural and uninspiring character of liberal political communities.Footnote 28 The intellectual sources of the so-called “communitarian critique of liberalism” are varied—emanating from Aristotle, Aquinas, classical republicanism, and Hegel—but they share a common conviction that political communities have an obligation to foster a set of prime, or thick, virtues among the citizenry and to actively propagate shared visions of the good.
These debates cast liberalism and communitarianism as diametrical opposites. And yet as Stephen Macedo, Peter Berkowitz, William Galston, and others have argued, liberalism has never been indifferent to the character and aspirations of its citizens.Footnote 29 Among defenders of “liberal virtues,” Galston has done the most to identify how public policy reflects and encourages a constellation of virtues. In Galston's view, liberal states affirm some moral purposes and ignore others any time they enact taxes or pass laws. Public education, tax policy, and legislation are all means by which liberal political communities actively cultivate basic virtues such as tolerance, moderation, self-control, and reasonableness on the part of their citizenry.Footnote 30
Our affirmation of the following set of “subprime virtues” follows directly from these debates. With communitarians and liberal virtue theorists, we concur that the Rawlsian vision of strict neutrality is neither empirically tenable nor normatively desirable. Whether dealing with mortgages and housing, or religion and public schooling, state policy inevitably advances some purposes at the expense of others. That said, we share the Rawlsian concern about the risks of alienating citizens and foisting the goods of one group on others. This is the rationale for confining ourselves to virtues we deem to be “subprime.” The following list should give an indication of the remedial character of the seven subprime virtues we propose. Accessible even to subprime citizens, these are modest virtues that make minimal demands. They are, to paraphrase Judith Shklar, “ordinary virtues.”Footnote 31 Notwithstanding their minimalism, however, we maintain that policy debates over the housing crisis could be enriched by a greater attentiveness to debates within the field of political theory about the nature of virtue, character, and the formation of civic identity. In the hopes of stimulating a conversation between political theorists and students of US policy, we proffer the following list of subprime virtues:
Truth-telling
To declare that one earns $130,000 per year, when one actually earns $30,000 is to lie. To say the thing which is not, as the Houyhnhnms in Gulliver's Travels put it, is a vice. Truth-telling, on the other hand, is recognized as a virtue across many traditions, both Western and non-Western. One finds written injunctions against lying as far back as the Code of Hammurabi (1700BCE), which punishes liars with death in capital cases. In the Christian tradition, the Old Testament commands us not to bear false witness against our neighbors. In the New Testament Jesus himself is referred to as “Truth” (John 14:6). In the Buddhist tradition, truth-telling is the fourth of the Five Virtues. “Woe to each sinful dealer in Falsehoods” the Quran tells us (45:7).
The philosophical tradition also roundly condemns the act of deceiving others for personal gain. Plato, for example, suggests that while a philosopher king might need to tell lies in the education of children (i.e., myths), for the rest of us, telling the truth is the foundation of undifferentiated justice. “Tell the truth and pay your debts,” we hear from Cephalus, in the opening pages of the Republic (331d). Saint Augustine went so far as to write two books on the topic, both of which condemn malicious lying either for the harm it does to one's community, or for the harm it does to one's soul.Footnote 32
Whatever the source of disapprobation, it is difficult to imagine society without a general streak of honesty and truth-telling. Widespread lying prevents the kind of trust that allows people to interact with one another, both in their private and public worlds.Footnote 33 No parents want their children to lie to them; deception between spouses is pernicious. A friend who deceives and lies to us is no friend at all. Politicians are forgiven many peccadilloes, but there is little tolerance for those caught in bold-faced lies. In our economic lives, the IRS demands truthfulness in our reporting, the Securities and Exchange Commission ensures that companies must not lie to their investors, and, as simple as this sounds, mortgage applicants are not expected to declare they earn $130,000 per year when they actually earn $30,000. There is some gold in the old proverb: “Honesty is the best policy.” Truth telling is a subprime virtue.
Promise-keeping
Promising to come to one's son's baseball game, but not showing up, is to shirk a self-imposed moral obligation. A promise is a commitment to do something, or not to do something, with the conscious intention of following through. In this respect, a broken promise is different from a lie. Unlike the liar, the promise-breaker is untrue both to himself and the promisee.
Promises take many forms. In the Old Testament, the promise exchanged between Abraham and God is a covenant (Gen. 12–17). This covenant is central in both the Islamic tradition (Quran 2:125) and the Christian, with some Christians regarding the New Testament as the fulfillment of Old Testament covenants. Oaths are another form of promising. Whether it be an Oath of Allegiance, the Hippocratic Oath, a Tennis Court Oath, or an Oath of Office, the promise is made with an eye to serving others, or “sticking together,” as it were. An oath binds one person to another, or a group of others. It is a promise not to abandon one's fellows in pursuit of one's own interests. Vows are similar. Whether they are wedding vows or religious vows, one is making a promise. With wedding vows, two people, in front of witnesses human and divine, make promises to one another. With religious vows, one is promising to adhere to a set of principles, as with the Buddhist Bodhisattva vows, or to a religious order, as when one enters a monastery or convent.
A promise enforced by the weight of law is a contract, though with respect to the subprime virtues, our main concern is with promises that rest mostly on one's word. Promises between spouses are integral to both the efficient functioning of the family and the well-being of the individuals therein. In our democratic lives, we trust that those we elect will make good faith efforts to keep their campaign promises. If they do not, we will not re-elect them. In our economic lives, promissory notes, despite having the weight of law behind them, are meaningless if people do not repay their debts. Promise-keeping allows us to act with some degree of predictability with respect to the behavior of strangers, which is absolutely necessary for the functioning of an extended market order. Absent this, as F. A. Hayek and others have pointed out, a complex modern society is impossible and our lives will be paralyzed by uncertainty.Footnote 34 Promise keeping is a subprime virtue.
Moderation
Moderation comes from the Latin word for restraint, which may explain why moderation often refers to things corporeal. A moderate person maintains control of bodily desires. As a virtue, however, moderation refers to things that range beyond drinking alcohol moderately or watching one's diet. A moderator, for example, keeps control of a debate. We can also speak of being religiously or politically moderate; more recently it is suggested with regard to foreign policy that America itself ought be a moderate republic.Footnote 35
As a virtue, moderation is hardly unique to the bourgeois, Protestant West, as Max Weber would have us believe. In the Old Testament, for example, we are told, “He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city” (Proverbs 16:32) and “Whoever has no rule over his own spirit is like a city broken down, without walls” (25:28). In the New Testament we are inveighed to eat moderately (Romans 14:22–23), to guard against sexual excesses (I Corinthians 7:9) and, in general, to be “self-controlled” (eg, Titus 1:8, I Corinthians 7:9, II Timothy 3:3). The Qur'an suggests Muslims ought to be “justly balanced” (2:143) and moderate in their spending (25:26). Likewise, in the Analects of Confucius, we are given this lesson: “Pleasure not carried to the point of debauch; grief not carried to the point of self-injury.”Footnote 36 Buddhism counsels the Middle Way—that one need find the mean between a life consumed by corporeal pleasures and one of immoderate self-mortification. We are told that the “Tathagata (The Perfect One) has realized the Middle Path; it gives vision, gives knowledge, and leads to calm, to insight, to enlightenment and to Nibbana.”Footnote 37
The philosophical tradition also holds moderation to be a virtue. Readers of Plato know well the inscription at Delphi admonishing visitors to “Know thyself,” but in equally large letters was the injunction, “Nothing in excess” (medan agan). Indeed moderation is arguably Plato's cardinal virtue, superseding even wisdom and courage. For Aristotle, sophrosyne is central and informs his description of virtue in general. Virtue is finding the mean between the twin vices of excess and deficiency. Defective courage, for example, is cowardice; excessive courage is rashness. For Aristotle, an immoderate person was akrates, or without will-power (NE 1145b11). A moderate person is, as we also find in the New Testament tradition, self-controlled (egkrateia) (eg. NE 1102b, 1146a, 1150a, 1151b, 1168b).
Moderation lately goes by the names of “impulse control” or “delayed gratification.” In his famous marshmallow experiment, Walter Mischel found that in addition to higher SAT scores, “those who delayed [gratification] longer in preschool were rated more likely to exhibit self-control in frustrating situations, less likely to yield to temptation, more intelligent, and less distractible when trying to concentrate.”Footnote 38 Of course, this view of moderation only asks that one refrain from doing. In the classic sense, moderation also demands action, but in due proportion. In addition to drinking convivially or eating appropriately, moderation means not spending oneself into oblivion just because unlimited credit is at hand. Moderation is a subprime virtue.
Frugality
Spending all of one's allowance as soon as one gets it is prodigal. Instead, we teach our children to be frugal—to save and to use their money sparingly. The importance of this basic virtue can be seen in its etymology. From fructus, in its original sense it pertained to the careful and efficient use of food. To do otherwise could lead to starvation. Much the same can be said about the use of water and other natural resources. In this sense, frugality is a conservative virtue. Even in times of plenty, the frugal person shepherds her money, her food, and her assets.
Frugality is emphasized in many religious traditions. In the Old Testament, for example, Joseph teaches the lesson of frugality to Pharaoh and saves Egypt from seven years of famine (Gen. 41). In the New Testament, we hear the parable of the Prodigal Son, who, after wasting his inheritance, ends up wallowing in pig manure (Luke 11:15–32). In the Islamic tradition, much is made of “Eat and drink, but waste not by excess” (Qur'an, 7:31).Footnote 39 Traditional Hinduism and Buddhism extol frugality as central to a properly lived life, and contemporary environmentalist movements have made the conservation, recycling, and careful use of scarce resources almost a religion itself.
Philosophically speaking, frugality has many antecedents. In Plato's Republic, Cephalus—who is arguably Socrates' best example of the just man—not only holds truth-telling and debt-paying to be virtues, but frugality as well. As Plato tells us, his habits of life have left Cephalus with enough wealth in his old age that he need not worry. Aristotle is also clear on this issue: prodigality, he says, “denotes the possessor of one particular vice, that of wasting one's substance; for he who is ruined by his own agency is a hopeless case indeed, and to waste one's substance seems to be in a way to ruin oneself, inasmuch as wealth is the means of life.”Footnote 40 The Epicureans are famous for their frugality and simple living.Footnote 41 Diogenes of Sinope lived in a tub and, upon seeing a child drink water with his hands, threw away his cup. He later disposed of his bowl upon seeing a child eat lentils with bread.Footnote 42
For Max Weber, frugality, which he calls asceticism, is a central part of the Protestant ethic and stands at the heart of the success of Western capitalism. Frugality and simple living, however, aim not just at the accumulation of wealth. For American transcendentalists such as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, simplicity becomes an end in itself. As Thoreau puts it in Walden, “Our life is frittered away by detail…. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million, count half dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail.”Footnote 43 More recently, in Small Is Beautiful, E. F. Schumacher makes a socio-economic argument for frugality, simple living, and what he calls “Buddhist Economics.”Footnote 44 However we look at it—religiously, philosophically, or economically—wasting one's substance is a vice. To take equity from one's home as soon as it accrues and spend it on a powerboat is prodigal, not frugal. To do so repeatedly as the value of one's house rises discloses no virtue whatsoever. Frugality is a subprime virtue.
Foresight
To sell one's bed in the morning and come weeping to buy it back in the evening reveals a serious want of foresight. This is, of course, Rousseau's famous description of savage man in the state of nature. But unlike Rousseau, who locates the seeds of human unhappiness in our acquisition of foresight, we maintain that being able to plan ahead is a subprime virtue. This is the very meaning of foresight—to see ahead. The Latin equivalent is providence, but we avoid this language lest the subprime virtue be confused with a divine attribute. Similarly, we avoid the Greek equivalent, Prometheus. The foresight we have in mind does not necessarily enable one to steal fire from the gods and to trick Zeus.Footnote 45 By foresight we simply mean the capacity to look a little ways into one's future and to refrain from actions that, though pleasing in the present, are ill-advised.
Describing foresight thusly reveals that it is bound up with time consciousness. To demand that one look into the future presupposes an awareness of time more generally. Writing about just this sort of thing, Saint Augustine tells us that time consists of past, present, and future, which correspond to memory, awareness, and expectation.Footnote 46 Recent experimental research in psychology bears this old insight out: the ability to recall past events parallels the ability to anticipate future events.Footnote 47 The better one's memory, the better one's foresight.
Obviously we do not expect ordinary people to behave like historians. With Nietzsche we agree that the past can be both useful and disadvantageous; that dwelling on the past can be paralyzing.Footnote 48 That said, a modicum of foresight is not too much to expect from citizens. By stretching memories into expectations—the past into the future—foresight ought to suggest that interest rates may rise, that bills always come due, that one's children might need a college fund, and that no housing boom lasts in perpetuity. In Aesopian language, foresight simply asks people to look before they leap: look a little into the past, look a little into the future and to bring a little foresight to bear in making life's routine decisions in the present.Footnote 49 Foresight is a subprime virtue.
Commitment
To begin building a house for one's family, but to pack up and move before construction is complete reveals a lack of commitment. As absurd as this sounds, this behavior is hardly unusual. “An American,” Tocqueville writes in Democracy in America, “will build a house in which to pass his old age and sell it before the roof is on; he will plant a garden and rent it just as the trees are coming into bearing; he will clear a field and leave others to reap the harvest; he will take up a profession and leave it, settle in one place and soon go off elsewhere with his changing desires.”Footnote 50 Life, of course, might push one to make such a decision, but the kind of unsettledness Tocqueville describes pertains especially to house-marketeers—houses are sold before the roof is on because materialism and profit trump commitment to particular places and engagements.
Commitment comes from the Latin and means to put together, to join, or to entrust. Hence, when we commit lunatics to asylums, we are entrusting them in their care. When we commit crimes, we are binding ourselves to an irretrievable action. If we are committed to a particular mode of conduct, we stay the course—we are steadfast in our commitments. Commitments, as Jean-Paul Sartre tells us, are the voluntary engagements that make us who we are in our everyday lives.Footnote 51
As a virtue, commitment has broad appeal. In the Christian tradition, both the Old and the New Testaments dissuade people from leading a fickle life. Psalm 37:5, for example, emphasizes the rewards that come with commitment, saying, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.” Similarly, Revelations “calls for the endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and hold fast to the faith of Jesus” (Revelations 14:12). The Qur'an espouses the virtue both in terms of “firmness” and “steadfastness.” We are told, for example, “God loves those who are firm and steadfast” (3:146) and that we ought to “bear with patient constancy whatever betide thee; for this is firmness (of purpose) in (the conduct of) affairs” (31:17). In the Buddhist tradition, one must be “well grounded in discipline,” patient and obedient. The third factor of enlightenment is “Persevering effort.”Footnote 52
In the philosophical tradition, much the same can be said. In his Republic, for example, Plato speaks derisively of the freedom-loving democratic soul incapable of committing to any particular way of life. The democratic soul, he says, “lives his life day by day, indulging each appetite as it makes itself felt.”Footnote 53 Without commitment, we are “kaleidoscopic men”—and a collection of fickle, dilettantish and unreliable souls provides no foundation for the family, for public life, for spiritual community, and certainly not for economic life. In the Roman world, this virtue was often referred to as firmitas and it pertained as much to the excellence of persons as to other domains of human existence. In his de Architectura, for example, Vitruvius says that when building a home, firmitas “will be assured when foundations are carried down to the solid ground and materials wisely and liberally selected.”Footnote 54
Commitment is not unlike loyalty. The US Marines speak of honor, courage, and commitment as the central values of the Corps. As they often say, a Marine is a Marine for life. As Albert Hirschman describes in Exit, Voice, and Loyalty, loyalty can “serve the socially useful purpose of preventing deterioration from becoming cumulative.”Footnote 55 Commitment not only means joining or binding oneself to one's people, but also to the space of one's community, even during troubled times. Just as edifices should be firmitas so that a neighborhood is not physically blown away, so too should its residents. Without at least a modicum of commitment from owners, buildings crumble. Without commitment houses never become homes and neighborhoods remain housing developments and “sub-divisions.” Commitment is a subprime virtue.
Judgment
Of the virtues we sketch here, judgment may be the least subprime. In fact, it might even approach the stringency of a prime virtue—a capacity reserved for a few. It is, after all, something Christians leave to God (especially at the end of time) and, in a more secular version, requires training beyond what is available to most citizens. Judges in court, for example, are expected not only to have a college degree and a juris doctorat, but also, as Tocqueville tells us, a priest-like familiarity with the law.Footnote 56 Even judges in artistic and certain sporting competitions require esoteric knowledge unavailable to the average person.
Not all judgment, however, requires divine wisdom or esoteric knowledge. The kind of judgment we have in mind is more intuitive. Most people have a basic understanding of right and wrong. This understanding, if brought forth in a person's actions, yields a basically ethical way of life. How understanding is linked to an ethical way of life is precisely the topic of Kant's Critique of Judgment. For Kant, “judgement is the middle term between the Understanding and the Reason.”Footnote 57 It is the faculty that allows us to bring our intuitive understanding of universal principles of right action to bear on particular instances. Or, as he puts it, “judgement in general is the faculty of thinking the particular as contained under the Universal.”Footnote 58 While a bit grandiose for our subprime purposes, what is helpful about Kant's understanding is that it posits judgment as the capacity to put a specific action, or thing, into a larger context, even if that larger context is not “universal.” One could, for example, make a judgment about how an individual's specific actions might have consequences for that person's neighborhood. Such judgment—this local judgment—requires no divine wisdom or esoteric knowledge.Footnote 59
This local judgment is reminiscent of an older Christian tradition originating in Corinthians, where in a list of nine spiritual gifts, Paul calls one the “discerning of spirits” (1 Corinthians, 12:10). St. Augustine runs down the list of Paul's gifts and claims they were given to mankind so “that we may discern all things.”Footnote 60 This emphasis on the value of good judgment was later picked up by St. Ignatius, founder of the Jesuit Order, who noted that worldly judgment means being able to decide in one's everyday actions if one is “inspired” by good or evil. And, of course, having so judged, one must act accordingly.Footnote 61
Yet, as a subprime virtue judgment is neither about things universal nor things metaphysical. While we might hope that good judgment in this sense could beget something like Kant's Categorical Imperative, our hopes are more modest. Local judgment, one hopes, might prevent a house-marketeer from, after splashing a coat of cheap paint on a bungalow, dumping the excess paint down a storm drain and throwing the empty cans in a ditch. Good liberal citizens ought to be able to discern whether one's actions are harmful not only to one's neighborhood and community but ultimately to one's self. Although the scope of local judgment may be limited, it is nevertheless a subprime virtue.
***
Measured against the usual standards of virtue theory, the subprime virtues are admittedly prosaic. The conviction that people ought to keep their promises, pay their debts, and stick to their commitments is so close to a bare-bones liberalism that they seem to add very little above and beyond what justice already calls for. Indeed, the subprime virtues hardly rise to the level of already modest “liberal virtues” such as courage, loyalty, family solidarity, fidelity, and tolerance advanced by William Galston—not to speak of the heroic self-sacrifice and magnanimity contemplated by classical republicans.Footnote 62
That said, from the vantage of liberal neutrality, any talk whatsoever of virtue looks burdensome—a narrow and particularistic view of the good masquerading as universal. Broadly speaking, there are two levels of objections one might raise along these lines. The first is a categorical rejection of any efforts by the state to use public policy to inculcate moral character. We fully concur that the task of the liberal state is not to produce Spartan warriors, Christian saints, or even, for that matter, tolerant democrats. As should be abundantly clear, we embrace the subprime virtues precisely because we share liberalism's ambivalence about efforts to “make men moral.” However, as Galston and others have demonstrated, public policy is always—and inevitably—moral. Whether it is a matter of education, urban planning, health care, social welfare, the tax code, or housing policy—policies reflect a view of the good. Pretending that this is not already the case serves no legitimate intellectual purpose.
The second line of objection is substantive. One might accept the general proposition that the state should foster certain virtues but take issue with the particular subprime virtues we have identified. In this instance, the criticism would have to be either that one or more of the subprime virtues we advance is superfluous, on the one hand, or oppressive and exclusionary to those who do not share them, on the other.
Here we defend the unique character of the subprime virtues. First, our argument is that while these virtues are minimal, they are also of decisive importance. The best evidence for this is the difficulty of imagining any decent society in which the subprime virtues were held in conspicuous disregard by a significant part of the population. Second, we would emphasize their lack of stringency. Unlike other virtues that seek to compel or enjoin, the subprime virtues are mainly content to discourage or moderate. It is not misleading to think of them as negative or aversive rather than positive or affirmative. Third, we emphasize their near-universality. The value of these virtues comes to light, as we have underscored above, from the fact that they have analogues in virtually every major moral or religious tradition. Lastly, despite how the subprime virtues may be affiliated with identifiable moral traditions, it is important to stress that they are not “comprehensive” in the Rawlsian sense of the term. They are neither inextricable from the theological doctrines of major world religions, nor constitutive of some a priori worldview. Our endorsement of these virtues appeals solely to public reason and is premised on expectations about their desirability that others of different faiths or cultures could reasonably be expected to accept.
One last substantive criticism that might be leveled is that these virtues are essentially “bourgeois,” inextricably linked with the commercial virtues of a capitalist society. We do not deny the affinities between the subprime virtues and the “bourgeois virtues” recently extolled by Deirdre McCloskey.Footnote 63 To the contrary, it would be peculiar indeed if virtues correlated with homeownership and housing policy did not have at least some connection with the characterological requirements of the marketplace. As Galston notes, among the “virtues of the liberal economy,” such dispositions as a strong work ethic, delay of gratification, and adaptability are worthy of encouragement.Footnote 64 And yet as should become clear in our subsequent discussion, many of these subprime virtues are intended precisely to resist the naked nexus of the market and the commodification of the housing market that resulted in the transformation of homeowners into house-marketeers.
What Happened?
Pinpointing a single proximate cause of the subprime crisis is a Sisyphean task.Footnote 65 Indeed, as Alex F. Schwartz, Daniel Immergluck and other housing policy scholars have complained, attempts to explain the crisis are plagued by ideology.Footnote 66 Conveniently forgetting their own complicity in the “homeownership” crusade, many in the conservative policy community blame Congressional leaders for liberal housing policy initiatives that loosened lending standards in pursuit of the goal of universal homeownership, or the inaction of Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan, who kept interest rates artificially low and failed to intervene as an asset bubble formed.Footnote 67 But as Schwartz and Immergluck emphasize, these state-centric explanations ignore the role of markets—particularly the “irrational exuberance” of Wall Street banks and other firms whose exotic financial instruments generated an artificial demand for the dodgy mortgages pooled into them.Footnote 68 Even more broadly, as scholars of international political economy remind us, state-specific explanations neglect the fact that international debt burdens led to simultaneous housing bubbles in many nations around the world including Ireland, Spain, Iceland, and the United Kingdom.Footnote 69
Rather than arguing about a singular cause of the housing crisis, our goal is to sketch the causal relationship between housing policies and citizen character. Even here, several factors complicate efforts to draw a straight line between public policy and virtue. First, there is an obvious multilayered and non-recursive relationship between policy and moral character. That is, state policies foster attitudes and structure incentives for both individuals and firms, but those attitudes and behaviors simultaneously exert influence back on policy. Second, as new institutionalists remind us, the effects of state policies on individuals are mediated by secondary institutions such as lenders, banks, realtors, family members, community organizations, and peers. State policy affects individual character only obliquely and indirectly. And lastly, we want to avoid the homily that before the 1990s people were angels, bad policy made them into devils, and thus better policy will deliver them from their vicious ways. Surely many of the behaviors we criticize—lying, promise-breaking, prodigality, fickleness, immoderation, improvidence, and folly—have always been conspicuous. If, however, one assumes that moral behavior is set on the margins, housing and mortgage policy normalized, if not romanticized, the life of the house-marketeer. In short, morally dubious habits that were previously the exception became institutionalized as the rule.
Most accounts of the subprime crisis single out borrowers, and understandably so. Lurid stories abound of strawberry pickers purchasing $720,000 houses.Footnote 70 There is compelling evidence that subprime borrowers were regularly misled about, or steered into, risky mortgages, but in virtually every case the borrower agreed, at least in principle, to a transaction that put them into a new home.Footnote 71 Rather than a morally transformative event, however, this decision became the single biggest mistake of their lives. Even before the housing meltdown, subprime borrowers defaulted in droves. While the economic consequences of these defaults were muted so long as housing prices continued to rise, the disappointment of a dream promised and revoked could hardly fail to have psychological and moral reverberations.
Setting aside house-marketeers and speculators, many subprime borrowers are guilty only of poor judgment. Their mistake was taking on the financial responsibility of a home for which they were ill-prepared. As Michael Lewis dramatizes, the typical subprime borrower lived one broken refrigerator away from financial disaster. It was not uncommon for subprime borrowers to have no down payment, no cash reserves, and projected payments that amounted to 75% or more of their take-home pay.Footnote 72 In addition to extraordinarily liberal ratios of income-to-expenses and loans-to-value, many of the most popular mortgage products were designed to increase a borrower's leverage by lowering their initial payments.Footnote 73 In response to the mathematical question of how a family of migrant farm workers with three children earning $15,000 per year could afford a $700,000 home, borrowers were reassured that they could sell later for a quick profit or refinance the loan when the teaser rate expired. The seemingly inexorable bubble in housing prices meant that everyone—no matter their credit history or financial circumstances—could participate in the American dream.
Whereas the moderate, frugal citizen lives within her means, eschews debt, and saves responsibly for a rainy day, the housing bubble made a mockery of these subprime virtues. Frugality and moderation, for example, became hallmarks of suckers. For a time, at least, rampant speculation, flipping, and leveraging one's investment to the hilt were lucrative behaviors. A&E's “Flip This House” and TLC's “Real Estate Pros” romanticized the easy money of the growing bubble in housing. Financial gurus touted strategies to become a real estate millionaire buying houses with “no money down.” Even moderate souls not carried away by the sirens' song of speculation were encouraged by real estate professionals and lenders to buy larger and more expensive homes than they could comfortably afford. The proliferation of home equity lines of credit and other products tempted risk-averse retirees into financing other forms of consumer spending. When irresponsible behavior offers such conspicuous rewards, a moral trans-valuation of values can never be far behind. The steady virtues of homeownership were displaced by the allure of house-marketeering.
The housing bubble clouded other subprime virtues such as truth-telling and promise-keeping. Everyday life, of course, may require some flexibility from truth-telling, but the legal sphere of contracts, courts, and finance has traditionally been immune to moral fuzziness. Regardless of how truthfully one speaks to one's neighbors, co-workers, spouse, or children, the domain of law, courts, and contracts commands a different standard of moral probity. If nothing else, there are criminal penalties associated with fraud, perjury, forgery, and tax-evasion. And yet the world of subprime finance seemed, at least for a time, to operate in an alternate moral universe where usual standards of truth-telling did not apply.
Nothing better exemplifies the institutionalization of this vice than the popularity of so-called “liar's loans.” While these were not, strictly speaking, “subprime,” they allowed borrowers to state income and employment without documentation. The original rationale for these loans was to allow otherwise qualified borrowers—the self-employed or those whose sources of income were irregular—to qualify for loans by paying a slightly higher interest rate. This minor deviation from standard underwriting practices grew quickly into an entire gamut of products ranging from “no-doc” to “low-doc.” What was once a justifiable exception became the rule.
From such loan products came a mindset that all mortgage documentation was optional. The legitimate option of disclosure or non-disclosure became conflated with outright fabrication. After all, if one can choose to say, or not to say, as one likes, then why cannot one “say the thing which is not?” The subprime industry was rife with stories of borrowers who falsified financial statements and employment history, wildly exaggerated income, declared investment properties as primary residences, and omitted otherwise disqualifying information. According to subprime lender Richard Bitner, borrowers themselves were usually complicit in the fraud, but mortgage brokers were often instigators. With few barriers to entry in many states, and lacking any clear fiduciary duties, mortgage brokers had every financial incentive to falsify applications, omit crucial information, coach borrowers to lie, and practice predatory tactics. Thus for many Americans, buying a home—stressful even under the best of circumstances—was an object lesson in the disposability of even minimal legal standards of honesty. Truth-telling, it seems, became as optional as the amount of one's pick-a-pay loan payments.Footnote 74
This lack of moral probity was hardly confined to marginal subprime borrowers or fly-by-night mortgage brokers. In hindsight, dishonesty and fraud extended into the highest echelons of the financial system. Mortgage backed securities—described in internal Goldman Sachs emails as “shitty” and akin to “making lemonade from some big old lemons”—were sold to institutional investors who assumed they met representations and warranties outlined in the prospectus and affirmed by supposedly independent ratings agencies.Footnote 75 According to Michael Lewis, the ratings agencies and loan servicers that ostensibly served as watchdogs over the securitization process took the investment banks at their word and complacently adopted their methodologies.Footnote 76 As a result, investors purchased pools of defective or fraudulent loans that were nonetheless rated AAA by Moody's, S&P, and other ratings agencies. Lawsuits by investors allege that Wall Street banks and lenders such as Countrywide defrauded pension funds, insurance companies, and other buyers. And perhaps most damningly, investigations by the SEC have uncovered details of various shady transactions by Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan, and others in collateralized debt obligations (CDO's) and their various derivative permutations specifically designed by their creators to fail, allowing preferred investors such as hedge-fund manager John Paulson, and Goldman Sachs itself, to bet against them. At minimum, there is mounting evidence that investment banks and other players turned a blind eye to the various toxic financial products they created because the short-term incentives of large fees and bonuses were simply too powerful.
As a final testament to the mortgage industry's mockery of truth-telling and good judgment, mortgage servicers were caught red-handed fabricating affidavits in support of foreclosures. So-called “foreclosure mills” employed “robo-signers” to falsify thousands of affidavits. In this way, hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of foreclosures were undertaken with incomplete, inaccurate, or falsified documentation. Not only did this process throw borrowers out of their homes illegally, it made a farce of the legal system, casting into doubt the judicial foreclosure process in many parts of the country and potentially tainting clear chain of title. As evidenced by the Occupy Wall Street movement, this kind of scandalous behavior by Wall Street “banksters” has given rise to mass disillusionment and resentment toward financial elites rewarded for their indiscretions with taxpayer bailouts and large bonuses.
The denouement of the financial crisis has brought with it a widespread sense of cynicism and instrumentality about the strategic advantages of lying, breaking promises, immoderation, profligacy, and abandoning one's commitments. For borrowers lucky enough to afford their homes, it is an acute moral dilemma whether to mail the keys to the bank and move along. Why be the fool paying off a hopelessly underwater house when one's neighbors have long since ceased to do so? Daily reports surface of borrowers living in homes rent-free for years as moratoria and legal challenges stall the foreclosure process. According to a recent poll by JZ Analytics, more than 32% of Americans now think it is acceptable to strategically default on their mortgages.Footnote 77 While tempting, this mindset is destructive to the foundations of good community. A promise provides mutual reassurance that parties will maintain their commitments even if circumstances in the future make it advantageous to renege. Living up to one's word, paying one's debts, and sticking to commitments are hallmarks of personal integrity, without which good community is undermined.
In sum, beyond the tangible economic metrics of job losses, declining home prices, and destruction of equity on which economists and policy-makers focus attention, the moral consequences of the subprime bubble and bust have yet to be fully tallied. Indeed we contend that even if the housing bubble had not burst, the moral costs of the fiasco with respect to moderation, promise-keeping, truth-telling, frugality, judgment, foresight, and commitment would have been grave enough in themselves. These subprime virtues were supplanted by a vision of the good life dismissive of not just supererogatory moral duties, but of anything inimical to the nexus of the marketplace.
A Virtue-Based Approach to Housing Policy: Some Recommendations
That bad policies have deleterious consequences has a flip-side: namely, that better policy can be morally salubrious. We have suggested that housing policy can encourage a set of “subprime virtues” and that homeownership—as opposed to house-marketeering—is a worthy public good. We thus support efforts to encourage homeownership by using the federal tax code, federal agencies, and other legitimate policy instruments. That said, we are critical—as should be abundantly clear—of otherwise well-intentioned efforts to stimulate the housing market independent of the underlying moral commitments we have identified. Rather than simply maximizing house-ownership in absolute terms, or supporting house values, public policy ought to encourage a certain kind of moral character among would-be homeowners and citizens. Hence, we propose the following revisions to federal tax policy and housing legislation.
Mortgage Interest Tax Credit
Maybe the most significant element of American housing policy is the mortgage interest tax deduction. This provision of the federal tax code makes mortgage interest, “points” paid at the origination of mortgages, and mortgage insurance tax-deductible expenses. Currently, this deduction substantially subsidizes the cost of acquiring and paying for a home. Real estate and mortgage professionals tout this deduction as a major financial incentive, and it is estimated that the mortgage interest deduction will amount to a $128 billion savings for the 40 million eligible American households.Footnote 78
Because we want to foster the good of homeownership, we support the principle behind the mortgage interest tax credit.Footnote 79 However, current policy is flawed both from the perspective of distributive justice and the subprime virtues. Most notably, current policy benefits only taxpayers eligible to itemize deductions—that is, generally those in the middle and upper tax brackets. James Poterba and Todd Sinai have calculated that while more than 98% of homeowners making over $125,000 are eligible to itemize, fewer than 23% earning less than $40,000 can. The average tax savings from this deduction is $1060, but the benefits are disproportionately skewed toward more affluent homeowners, who buy more expensive homes and whose tax savings are greater given their higher marginal tax rates. Compared to homeowners making less than $40,000 per year, for whom the benefits of the deduction are negligible ($99 on average), those making more than $250,000 gain more than ten times as much of those earning between $40,000 and $70,000 ($5459 versus $523).Footnote 80 Effectively, then, the policy does nothing for low-income homeowners—precisely those we seek to initiate into the virtues of homeownership—whereas it offers powerful incentives for wealthier homeowners to stretch themselves into more expensive homes. Rather than making basic housing affordable to the marginal homebuyer, current policy subsidizes conspicuous consumption and immoderation. The deductibility of real estate property taxes is similarly flawed, as it provides disproportionate benefits to affluent homeowners in neighborhoods where property taxes and home values tend to be high, which are correlated with benefits such as good schools, public safety, and other attractive features.
Moreover, this policy allows for the deduction of interest on home equity loans or lines of credit, even if such loans are for cars, boats, vacations, and other consumer debt. Traditionally the tax code distinguished between consumer debt and mortgage debt by providing for the tax deductibility of the latter while (appropriately) ignoring the former. Tax changes in 1986, however, made interest on secondary loans up to $100,000 on one's home deductible. Not only did this increase aggregate consumer debt, but it contributed directly to the mindset of regarding one's house as a financial asset, rather than a home in which one dwells. Indeed, Americans in the first decade of the twenty first century mistook their homes for bottomless ATM machines. Unlocking equity trapped in homes also undermined one of the less appreciated virtues of the traditional 30-year mortgage—namely, its function as a kind of enforced savings plan. The rhythm of the 30-year mortgage corresponds with the life-cycle of marriage, middle age, and retirement. Americans once looked eagerly toward the day when they could burn their mortgage note. Home equity loans, however, normalize perpetual indebtedness, with prospects of owning one's home free and clear ever more fleeting as one draws down its remaining equity. Most fundamentally, we see no good principled or practical reason to accord preferential tax treatment to consumer debt simply because the borrower was fortunate or clever enough to have shifted their consumption onto a loan secured against a home.
Rather than an itemizable deduction for those who would buy homes anyway, we propose a tax credit akin to tax credits for children, energy efficiency, or other incentivized behaviors. Obviously it would be desirable to graduate this tax credit based on the expenses associated with the mortgage, but we maintain that this tax credit must be structured progressively—that is, offering the greatest incentive to the marginal first time homeowner—and that it be phased out as income and the size of the mortgage rises. We see no justification for the current tax code that allows full interest deductions on mortgages up to $1,000,000. In our view, this only inflates housing prices in tight markets, subsidizes the real estate industry, and encourages already affluent homebuyers to live beyond their means by reducing the effective cost of their debt. By encouraging overconsumption and perpetual indebtedness, current policy undermines the subprime virtues of frugality, moderation, foresight and judgment.
The Capital Gains Tax Inclusion
Since 1997, the tax code has exempted up to $250,000 ($500k for married couples) in profits on the sale of a primary residence from federal capital gains taxes. Proposed with much fanfare by Bill Clinton at the 1996 Democratic National Convention, critics have alleged that more than any other single policy, this federal exemption of capital gains on home sales transformed Americans from homeowners into house-marketeers.Footnote 81 Whatever its economic effect, the policy is both hypocritical and theoretically incoherent. If policy encourages Americans to think of their homes as commercial assets or investments—no different from speculative investments like stocks, bonds, or commodities—then why should gains from the sale of homes be exempted from capital gains taxes that apply to profits for all other asset classes? We take as a general model the distinction between tax treatment of stocks or other “short-term” investments (currently profits on stocks held less than one year are taxed at the taxpayer's highest marginal tax rate) versus those classified as “long-term” gains taxed at a reduced rate. We propose revisiting the federal tax treatment of the sale of homes and envision a distinction along the same lines. While the details are subject to fine-tuning, at minimum such a policy would distinguish between “short-term” profits from the sale of one's primary residence that take place within 5 years of purchase, which would be taxed at the taxpayer's highest marginal rate, and “long-term” capital gains, say, after 20 or 30 years of consecutive primary residence, that might be given a reduced treatment.
The best empirical evidence suggests that the civic benefits of homeownership are strongly correlated with tenure of residence. In that sense, long-term renters are just as likely to evince civic virtues as homeowners of a similar tenure. Yet merely controlling for length of tenure disguises the crucial fact that the average homeowner stays put much longer than the average renter. And if length of tenure is indeed strongly correlated with civic virtues and social capital, then why not incentivize commitments to primary residences? Conversely, it seems perverse to reward someone for having moved into a home for six months, slapping on a coat of paint, new cabinets, and granite countertops, and to give them a tax-free profit for their contribution to community-building.
Again, while the details may vary depending on circumstances, we propose that the capital gains exclusion be phased in and vest only after a meaningful period of time, say, five to ten years, thus disincentivizing short-term speculation; that it be truly “one-time,” such that it affords relief mainly to homeowners who have lived in neighborhoods for long periods and face considerable tax burdens from selling properties that have appreciated over the life-cycle; that the policy apply only to primary residences, thus eliminating the loophole of speculators reclassifying properties purchased for re-sale as their primary residences; and that so-called “Section 1031 exchanges,” that allow professional real estate investors to defer capital gains on real estate investments indefinitely by shifting proceeds immediately into other “like-kind” assets, be eliminated.
Upping Down Payments
The kind of subprime virtues we seek to encourage are intimately connected with the ability of would-be homeowners to raise a significant down payment. Down payments require the cultivation of frugality, foresight, moderation, and judgment. Before the era of mortgage securitization, it was not uncommon for small town banks and thrifts to require downpayments of 25% or even 30%. From an economic vantage, of course, this put home buyers themselves first in line to lose money if they were unable to make payments or the home lost value. Homeowners had “skin in the game,” which aligned interests of borrower and lender. But above and beyond the strictly economic rationale, small town bankers and thrift officers understood something lost in the era of mortgage securitization—namely, that saving a substantial down payment was itself a morally transformative endeavor. Before electronic credit reporting, saving a down payment was perhaps the most important signal that a prospective buyer was ready to become a committed homeowner. Not only did this make them a good credit risk in a crudely economic sense, but it also spoke to their moral capacities as a homeowner, a good neighbor, and committed citizen.
The days of mortgages and small town thrifts are, of course, long past. The mortgage market now rests on securitization and is dominated by federal agencies. With the collapse of the private market for residential mortgage securitization in 2008, Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, as well as the FHA, seem destined to provide the lion's share of funding for residential mortgages. Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac have already tightened underwriting standards since being taken into receivership in 2008. In particular, they now ordinarily require at least 20% equity or down payment for mortgages they purchase and securitize. We think that this is a prudent move for all the reasons outlined above. However, there is one large exception to this policy, in that new federal mortgages issued by the Federal Housing Administration, Veteran's Administration, and certain rural development administrations may allow borrowers to purchase homes with as little as a 3% down payment, which in certain circumstances may be borrowed or financed. These FHA and VA mortgages are then packaged into GNMA mortgage backed securities and sold with the full faith and credit of the United States government.
Such policies have been roundly criticized on grounds that looser standards make FHA or VA borrowers more likely to default, resulting in losses for taxpayers.Footnote 82 Our argument is agnostic with respect to their economic benefits or costs. Rather, our worry is that relaxed underwriting standards are less than ideal from the vantage of the moral theory outlined above. Again, we sympathize with the desire to make homeownership more accessible, and we recognize that tightening FHA or VA lending standards might disproportionately burden working class families, minorities, and veterans. But from the perspective of subprime virtues, we feel compelled to acknowledge that not all prospective house purchasers are well-suited to be homeowners. The goal of our policy, of course, is to encourage the subprime virtues correlated with responsible homeownership and good citizenship, but we do not hold that, in and of itself, homeownership ought to be pursued independent of these virtues.
Giving Credit Where Credit is Good
With respect to underwriting standards established by the GSEs, we affirm the emphasis on credit scores but propose these be interpreted in a new moral light. Stringent credit scores should be understood for what they are—a metric (admittedly imperfect) for measuring one's ability to exercise foresight, frugality, moderation, and good judgment. One's credit score is both a retrospective summary of one's life as well as the object of continual maintenance, aspiration, and improvement.
This may seem controversial insofar as the system of national credit reporting is much reviled. Synthesizing an individual's life history into FICO scores and then applying these numbers indiscriminately as a way of making judgments about the allocation of goods and resources is hardly perfect. Credit scores are a crude barometer for economic worthiness, let alone moral character, and no one would be so foolish as to say that one's credit score exhausts one's moral worth as a human being. But, ceteris paribus, credit scores offer a record of life decisions, both good and bad. Fate and misfortune often intrude, particularly in ages of financial turmoil, and many credit records hardly reflect ordinary moral intuitions about justice and moral desert. We have grave misgivings, for example, about employers' recourse to credit scores for screening potential employees, not only because of the unearned aspects of credit scores, but maybe more importantly because of the necessity of earning a livelihood. Homeownership, by way of contrast, is a worthy and desirable goal but by no means an absolute human good.
Our affirmation of good credit may also seem trivial. After the subprime debacle, many pundits and politicians have called for stricter underwriting standards and impeccable credit for borrowers. But the vast majority of these arguments hinge on narrowly economic criteria. Tight underwriting undoubtedly yields fewer defaults and foreclosures, and when the vast majority of mortgages are backstopped by the American taxpayers, this seems a prudent consideration. Lax underwriting and relaxed credit standards—both by subprime lenders as well as the GSEs themselves—were a major factor in the housing bubble, and at a bare minimum, we want to avoid repeating the errors of the past. However, our argument is quite different from the legions of prudential or economic arguments for the centrality of good credit in homeownership.
Our conviction is that too little attention has been placed on the moral and developmental aspects of one's financial life. Having bad credit does not a bad person make. Nor is good credit a necessary or sufficient condition for a good life. But the aspiration to improve one's credit by living moderately, paying one's bills on time, avoiding excessive debt, and exercising the kind of self-control, foresight, commitment, and good judgment requisite to improving one's credit score are worthy goals in and of themselves. If the aspiration for homeownership can be used to direct and to cultivate these virtues, we think this would make for happier human beings, better homeowners, and more responsible citizens.
A ‘Staying Put’ Tax Credit
Beyond the tax treatment of mortgage interest, capital gains, or other financial issues, we question the federal tax deductibility of moving expenses.Footnote 83 Rather than a “moving credit”—which rewards a behavior to which Americans are already inclined—we propose a “staying put credit” that provides financial incentive for homeowners to develop strong roots in neighborhoods. As Robert Putnam suggests in Bowling Alone, one of the likely causes of the decline of associational life in America over the last four decades is the ease with which Americans pick up and move, sometimes for trifling raises or promotions. Notwithstanding some of Putnam's communitarian overtones, the point about the time required to put down roots is sound. As with “re-potting” of plants, he notes, once taken up from the soil they need time to redevelop their root system and to become acclimated to their new environment.Footnote 84
While in principle it is not incompatible with the current system that makes the cost of moving a certain distance (50 miles) to accept new employment tax deductible, our suggestion would be to give long-time homeowners an economic reward for staying put. The goal is not necessarily, as it would be for Putnam, to foster “community” or civic engagement. Rather, the idea is that once a homeowner is “vested” in a home after a certain amount of time—say, five or ten years—the attractions of cashing in and moving for purely financial reasons might be outweighed, at least at the margins, by a small incentive to stick around. Even if the strict benefits of a negligible tax credit cannot outweigh the attractions of taking a quick profit on one's home, behavioral economics teaches us that sometimes the mere perception of surrendering an already vested advantage can have a disproportionate effect on economic behavior. If nothing else, the policy would serve to symbolize and officially sanction a preference for homeownership over house-marketeering.
Deterring Defaults
Regarding commitment and promise-keeping, we are disturbed by the trend of homeowners who choose to “selectively default” on their mortgages. Many borrowers openly brag about turning the tables on banks and mock those who foolishly choose to keep their promises. Blogs and message boards such as www.youwalkaway.com or www.strategicdefault.com glorify the behavior of selective defaulters. Jocular euphemisms such as “jingle-mail” have been invented by borrowers who simply drop the keys in the mail to their lenders. Economists, working from the rational actor model, routinely recommend strategic defaults, including deeds-in-lieu of foreclosures and short-sales.Footnote 85 Many states have laws that embolden strategic defaulters by limiting a lenders' ability to obtain deficiency judgments for the difference between the amount of the loan and the current value of the home. In our view, the ability to walk away from a mortgage easily is highly corrosive of the subprime virtues and we favor changes in public policy to discourage this vice.
Criminology teaches that deterrence rests on three pillars: certainty, celerity, and severity. Borrowers who choose to default on their mortgages can be fairly certain of negative consequences. Regarding celerity and severity, however, policy needs to be revisited. In our ideal scenario, federal law would reconcile disparate state practices into a standard policy allowing lenders to pursue selective defaulters—i.e., those who can afford to pay their mortgages but choose not to—and obtain deficiency judgments. In many cases these deficiency judgments can themselves be wiped away by bankruptcy, as with most other debts, but this option carries with it considerable penalties and disincentives of its own. Many more would hesitate to walk away from underwater mortgages if the consequences were as severe as a full-blown bankruptcy.
The federal tax code also facilitates strategic defaults in the name of “economic stabilization.” Whereas debt forgiven by banks or credit card companies has traditionally been treated as taxable income, the Mortgage Forgiveness Debt Relief Act of 2007 excludes mortgage debt forgiven after a foreclosure, restructuring, short-sale, or deed-in-lieu of foreclosure. For example, if a borrower with a $300,000 mortgage convinces his lender to let him sell for $200,000, the $100,000 of debt forgiven in the short sale is not taxable. This provision in the tax code is set to expire in December 2013, which we strongly support, as this kind of forgiveness does little to foster the subprime virtues.
A second area where more could be done is with respect to a defaulter's waiting period for another GSE-sponsored mortgage. On the one hand, we commend many of the 2010 changes tightening re-eligibility for Fannie Mae mortgages. For example, as of June 2010, borrowers with a foreclosure must wait 7 years before qualifying for another Fannie Mae-backed mortgage. Previously the waiting period was only 4 years. On the other hand, however, the amendments actually reduce the waiting period if a borrower can show “extenuating circumstances.”Footnote 86 According to Fannie Mae, “extenuating circumstances are nonrecurring events that are beyond the borrower's control that result in a sudden, significant, and prolonged reduction in income or a catastrophic increase in financial obligations.”Footnote 87 With appropriate documentation, the waiting period after a full-blown foreclosure, or even multiple bankruptcies, can be as little as 3 years; single bankruptcies, deeds-in-lieu of-foreclosure, and short sales require a mere 2 year wait.Footnote 88
We are sympathetic to the spirit of this policy, which attempts to differentiate between purely strategic defaults and those driven by events beyond the borrower's control, but we worry that the ability to cite these exceptions as grounds for speedy re-qualification runs against the subprime virtues of frugality, foresight, commitment, and judgment. Extenuating circumstances threaten to turn defaulting into not-my-faulting. We recommend either doing away with the extenuating circumstances clause or, at the very least, narrowing the gap between this exception and the standard 7-year waiting period.
Admittedly these changes are unlikely to outweigh powerful economic incentives for strategically defaulting. Nonetheless, our suggestions uphold a general principle of equity that wrongdoers not profit from their misdeeds. Beyond our primary concern with strategic defaults on the subprime virtues—the way this practice discredits the virtues of promise-keeping and commitment by rewarding those who skirt them and demoralizing those who adhere to them—it is the height of absurdity that a defaulter might walk away from an underwater mortgage—sticking the GSEs and taxpayers with the loss—then appealing to them to underwrite another mortgage. Imposing stringent restrictions on the ability of defaulters to qualify for new agency mortgages would do much to ensure that even if virtue is not rewarded, at minimum vice does not profit.
Strict Liability and Penalties for Fraud
Lest the brunt of our proposals rest on the shoulders of borrowers and homeowners, we also add that one of the most damaging legacies of the housing crisis is the widespread fraud and corruption it revealed, running from the back alleys of the mortgage industry to the heights of our financial system. In the wake of the crisis, there has been abundant evidence of fraud committed by individual borrowers who lied on their loan applications; shady mortgage brokers who urged them to do so, or did so for them; mortgage lenders who bought up such fraudulent loans (or merely fabricated them) and passed them along to Wall Street; and the investment banks and other creators of exotic financial instruments who knowingly and recklessly packaged these defective loans into mortgage backed securities and various derivatives such as CMOs, CLOs, not to mention synthetic CDOs and credit default swaps thereon. In effect, the housing bubble of 2005–2007 rested on a pyramid of deception, fraud, and corruption from which all participants—from top to bottom—profited grandly. If the machinery of financial destruction had instead been devoted to producing wantonly defective and dangerous automobiles, food, drugs, or cribs, the jails would be filled with felons. Instead, aside from a few of the worst offenders like Lee Farkas of Taylor, Bean & Whitaker, sentenced to 30 years in prison for selling fraudulent mortgages to the GSEs; a few selective prosecutions of the most egregious Wall Street abuses by traders at Goldman Sachs and Bear Stearns; and the recent $26 billion “settlement” between the State Attorneys General and five major mortgage servicers for “robosigning” and foreclosure fraud, there has been precious legal retribution for the vices of the last decade.
We propose, then, new standards of strict fiduciary responsibility for those dealing in financial securities, including even stringent civil and criminal liability for executives and others who knowingly participate in the creation of fraudulent economic instruments.
Conclusion
Pundits, policy-makers, and political scientists dispute the causes of the financial crisis. By and large these debates have focused on identifying the culprit, whether this be government, Main Street, K Street, or Wall Street. We suspect the truth lies somewhere in between—that both state and market, domestic policy as well as international political economy, bear some responsibility. Nonetheless, we have argued here that revisiting the housing crisis through the lens of virtue theory offers a valuable new perspective missing from the extant scholarly and policy literature.
As discussed above, political scientists have done much to show a correlation between public policy and citizen virtues. And yet despite the invaluable accomplishments of the new institutionalism and policy feedback literatures in highlighting the positive or negative effects of specific policies on citizen character, broadly conceived, political scientists have largely refrained from identifying specific virtues that ought to be encouraged.Footnote 89 For example, in the case of urban or housing policy, scholars have moved beyond the narrow criteria of “efficiency” to raise normative concerns about social justice or civic participation.Footnote 90 But even here, less attention is paid to citizen character—both in its own right and for its contribution to a good society. We hope that our virtue-based perspective might play a role in encouraging conversations between political theorists and policymakers. If nothing else, rather than taking citizen capacities as givens, our study of the housing crisis offers yet another lesson in how citizen character and competency are themselves by-products of the policies we choose to pursue.
On the assumption that public policy ought to be concerned with the kinds of human beings it creates, we have advanced two distinctive sets of claims. First, and critically, we have sketched out the events leading up to the subprime mortgage crisis and shown how the vision of an “ownership society,” whether advanced by social conservatives, liberal housing activists, or self-interested market participants, neglects the deeper moral significance of homeownership. The financial crisis marked the coincidence of misguided policies and perverse market behaviors that yielded not just financial devastation but an erosion of the subprime virtues. Any tally of the costs of the housing policies of the 1990s and 2000s must go well beyond the usual economic facts and figures cited as evidence of the magnitude of the crisis. Second, and more affirmatively, we have proposed a virtue-based perspective that yields a modest set of policy prescriptions intended to better align the legitimate goods of homeownership with the basic virtues necessary for a decent society.
Our overarching claim is that mortgage and housing policy should be evaluated not in terms of their success at maximizing homeownership, per se, or even with facilitating social justice or civic participation (though we acknowledge that homeownership, social justice, and civic participation are all legitimate goods). Rather, the political theory perspective advanced here is simultaneously more ambitious and restrained than prevailing approaches. It is ambitious in seeking to use housing policy as an instrument for cultivating a specific set of virtues. If William Galston and other political theorists are correct that public policy is always and inevitably normative, then some human type is the target, even if implicitly, of every policy. Why not be more self-conscious about this reality in the case of housing and mortgage policy? That said, our perspective as political theorists is modest in that our concerns about human character stop short of the loftier goals of social justice or creating a nation of passionate and engaged citizenry. While these loftier goals are certainly worth pursuing, by framing the issue in terms of virtue theory, we expect that the oft-separate worlds of theory, policy, and political science might be brought into valuable dialogue. At the very least we hope to foster a mindset whereby truth-telling, promise-keeping, moderation, frugality, foresight, commitment, and judgment—the subprime virtues—are the norm rather than the exception in our daily lives.