Last week, after I spoke in the debate, I received a message from someone I know quite well. It said:
“I’m currently in the final stages of trying to buy a leasehold flat and am pretty worried about what I’m getting myself into. The freeholder, a Housing Association, has increased the service charge by 27% since I had my offer accepted and there seems to be nothing to stop them doing so again. They claim they just do it to cover costs … I get the impression this is a rentier business pretending to be something else”.
The aim of the amendment, which in some ways might appear to be quite glib, is that everyone should stop pretending this is something it is not. When you become a leaseholder you are not actually buying a home, and I want to clarify that to say so is mis-selling.
Of course, I am hopeful that the Government will accept my earlier amendment for a sunset clause on leasehold and that commonhold will become the new normal, but in the meantime those buying homes on leasehold should be frankly told what they are buying into. I have noticed in this Committee, and in the
wider debate on the issue, that developers and big freehold often defensively retort when we complain about treatment of leaseholders, “You knew you were buying a leasehold property. You knew the rules. Why didn’t you read the small print?” It is a form of victim blaming—“This is what leasehold is”—but it is disingenuous.
I want to tackle that by regulating the marketing of residential leasehold properties so that they are sold as lease rentals, which in fact was a key recommendation of the leasehold report by the House of Commons Levelling Up, Housing and Communities Committee that was published in March 2019. I stress that when you buy a leasehold property, you think you are buying a house or entering into the home-owning classes. That is how it is sold to us by politicians. For example, a DLUHC spokesperson, defending the mess that is shared ownership, stated:
“Shared ownership has a vital role to play in helping people onto the property ladder, and since 2010 we have delivered 156,800 new shared ownership homes”.
The whole idea, when you buy into shared ownership or you buy a leasehold flat, is that you are joining the property-owning classes. You think of it as the aspiration to own your own home, and all that that entails. That is what you are buying.
We need to consider the ideology of home ownership. I thought about that particularly when watching an excellent lecture entitled “Making our homes our own” by Professor Nicholas Hopkins, a Law Commissioner for property, family and trust law. When you are renting somewhere to live, there is a sense of dependence on a landlord. You have no conception that you own the property, and it is all very clear. I remember my father saying to me, “It’s time to grow up and stop renting”, and eventually I bought a flat—not until I was 40, mind. It was a leasehold flat, and I thought, “I’m all grown up now. I’m taking responsibility. No landlord—it’s up to me”. Little did I know.
When you buy a home, you think you are buying independence, autonomy and control. Yes, it provides greater security, stability and permanence, but what about what Professor Hopkins calls the “x-factor” benefits—the idea that you buy a property, make it your own and personalise it? Do noble Lords remember those symbolic new front doors that everyone put on their council flats after right to buy came in? It was like saying, “I bought mine, so I’ve got a red door”—it meant something. I am not saying that in a sniffy way; it did mean something. It was about saying, “I’m going to take pride in maintaining this. I’m going to improve it”. People were in control over their houses, how and when to dispose of them, and so on—they had taken that grown-up responsibility. The notion that there is no landlord controlling your home is very important, but it is an illusion in relation to leasehold.
When the Commons Select Committee did an inquiry into leasehold in 2018 to 2019, it
“found a system which stacked the odds in the favour of developers, freeholders and managing agents, leaving leaseholders with all the financial responsibilities and without matching safeguards to protect them. Leaseholders were too often treated not as homeowners or customers, but as a source of steady profit”.
That is exactly what it feels like, but they do not tell you that at the estate agents. They do not say that the leasehold form of home ownership means that, while
you pay for the maintenance of your home, you have no control over the amount, quality or cost of work undertaken. The whole experience is disempowering. You are being done to—the object of other people’s decisions.
I will give an example. When Storm Eunice battered Britain a few years ago, the roof of one lady’s top-floor two-bedroom leasehold flat started to leak badly. She said that rain was coming down through the light sockets and switches. Most home owners would try to get someone in as soon as possible to identify the leaks and get the problem fixed urgently via a claim on their buildings insurance—there is a storm, there are leaks and it is dangerous, so you get it fixed properly. But, because Liz’s flat is leasehold, she had to rely on a managing agent to sort things out. Despite countless calls and emails, she could not get anything done. Eventually, the water stopped—they stemmed the flow—but that failed and mould started to grow in the increasingly sodden flat, so Liz had to move out. There was more pleading with the managing agent to find suitable temporary accommodation, and eventually they did, albeit to a dodgy area in which Liz said she did not feel safe.
The Minister said earlier that one reason she was nervous about giving consultation rights to leaseholders in relation to local authorities was that the leaseholders might hold up works and that, somehow, the freeholders would be rushing to get them done. Is there a historic example of that ever happening? Generally, what has happened is that leaseholders are in a rush to sort out problems in their own homes and would know how to do so, but the freeholders, or their managing agents, are less inclined to.
Mis-selling leasehold properties as property ownership is, in my opinion, a con in so many ways. People who save hard for a deposit, and who budget and work hard to get a mortgage, see their new home as a financial asset: a home to pass on. But, as Professor Hopkins explains, the effect of leasehold, in essence, is to put financial value in the landlord’s hands at the expense of the leaseholders, and
“the more a person’s home is used as a financial asset to benefit their landlord, the less it is an investment for the individual. The more a leaseholder’s money is providing an investment for their landlord, the less their money is providing an investment for their own future, their family and their next generation”.
So, for leaseholders, the question is: would they buy that flat if their home was actually a source of investment for someone else—a profit for someone else—and not even something they could easily pass on to their family?
When you look in an estate agent’s window, there are two sections: for sale and for rent. There is no mention, under “for sale”, that there is a two-tier system of property and that leaseholders do not get sold their homes outright but are tenants of a freeholder who owns the land. Would-be buyers may hear their solicitors mumble the word “leasehold”, but the implications are not spelled out. For example, Natalie Walton explained in an article that, when she bought her new-build two-bedroom flat in Wakefield for £105,000, she had no idea that, on top of her £1,600 annual service charge—uncapped—her ground rent would be increased every 20 years. She said:
“It’s not easy when you’re a first-time buyer to understand all of the implications of ground rents. I had a copy of the lease but the solicitor didn’t go through any of it with me”.
So, yes, I know that the paperwork exists, but, without signposting it, and a regulated demand for honesty and frankness through the buying and selling process, many more people will be hoodwinked until we get rid of leasehold for good.
7.15 pm
The Minister might reply that the Government’s How to Lease guide has been updated, and I was delighted to read that it had, because it was very unclear before but is now clear and honest. It says, on the Government’s own website:
“When you ‘buy’ a leasehold property, you do not become the owner of the property: you acquire the right to occupy it for the amount of time that is remaining on the lease … If the property you are interested in is leasehold, this means you, as the buyer (i.e. the ‘leaseholder’) will be signing a contract which grants you the right to occupy a property for a fixed number of years … (i.e. the ‘lease’). The building structure and any common parts will be owned by the freeholder who is likely to be your landlord”.
Hurrah for that—for once, the Government are totally clear. But who in the public reads a GOV.UK publication before they buy a house or a flat? It just does not happen.
I am suggesting that this definition should become the standard for well-advertised descriptions, used by estate agents, freehold and development sellers, and solicitors. I am not suggesting that estate agents all go off and do degree courses, as somebody did recently, but updating them, so that they know what “leasehold” means, would be helpful. This amendment ensures that this will happen, until we at last move away from this iniquitous tenure and commonhold becomes the norm. In the meantime, at least let us be honest. I beg to move.