Before Andy Burnham delivers his first Budget on Wednesday, the question of where he intends to find the money for his ambitious plans remains unanswered. But one group has been pointed to as a possible source of cash: homeowners.
Chancellor John Healey has already ruled out changing capital gains tax rules for anyone selling property. Yet, the sense that those who have managed to get on the ladder, rather than those without assets, could bear more of the burden remains.
So, do homeowners pay enough tax? Housing journalist Clara Hill and homeowner Emily Watkins give their perspectives.
When my partner and I bought our flat a few years ago, I was still pinching myself months after we’d hauled all the books onto shelves and hung the last picture. Like many of my generation, home ownership had felt so out of reach as to be not worth thinking about; buying a place would be nice, but so would winning the lottery.
So, when the stars did suddenly align – financial help from my dad, a pile of my own savings accumulated against my will during lockdowns, plus an out-of-the-blue inheritance for my boyfriend – it didn’t seem real; and even though our names are on the deeds, in some ways it isn’t.
Like more than half of young people buying today, we had help (from family, the universe) to get our feet on the ladder. Now we’re here, the idea of climbing any higher feels as ridiculous as getting onto it in the first place, in large part because moving would entail paying tens of thousands in stamp duty. And as Andy Burnham has signalled ahead of this month’s Budget, that’s unlikely to change anytime soon.
For me and millions of others who’d been holding out hope for reform, that’s something of a downer – not least because since we bought our place, two have become three (our Tasmanian devil, sorry, I mean son, has just turned one). I love our flat, but at 40 square metres, it’s a third smaller than the British average. While it doesn’t feel too little yet, I know that day is coming – not that we’ll be able to do anything about it when it does.
If the idea of saving money as two freelancers with a baby in London sounds like the set-up for a cruel joke, it can certainly feel that way. And while we keep shoving the Sisyphean rock up the hill in the vague hope that one day it’ll mean we can afford more space, the truth is that even the cheapest three-bed flat (one for us, one for baby, one for home working) is unlikely to cost less that £500,000 – and that’s before stamp duty of around £15,000.
Before you start penning angry letters, I can hear you from here – if you want a bigger place, just leave London! But, I don’t want to! In any case, no matter where we lived, the problem would remain. People are meant to graduate into bigger homes as their families grow, whether that’s from a terraced house to a semi-detached one in the suburbs, or from a shoebox to a slightly-bigger-shoebox in the capital, as the case may be.
At least, that’s the general idea, and I presume it worked when homes were priced such that people could reliably save for their own deposits. In 1975, for instance, the average house cost under £11,000, requiring a deposit of less than £600, or around 12 per cent of a couple’s annual income. These days it’s more like 78 per cent. Saving up then took an average of eight months. Now, it’s nearly four years.
Sure, there’s some recognition of this new normal in stamp duty rates, which are lower for first-time buyers. But once you’re out of that cohort, you’re on your own, even if your financial situation hasn’t changed (or if things are tighter than ever: see above, re baby).
Those of us who received a parental leg-up in the 2020s are very fortunate, but inevitably out of our depths. I live somewhere I absolutely couldn’t have afforded alone. As such, I can now never leave.
In short: £15,000 in stamp duty fees makes sense as a charge for people who can afford £500,000 flats – but many owners of such properties just aren’t in that bracket, even though they’re living there. Thanks to the Bank of Mum and Dad, my lucky peers and I have been catapulted to artificial housing heights. Sooner or later, something must be done to stop us crashing back down to Earth.
Much as I had made my peace with the prospect of renting forever before our aforementioned financial frogs fell from the sky, I am more than happy to stay in our mini-home indefinitely; I know I am very lucky, and I don’t take any of it for granted. It remains to be seen, though, how this picture evolves on a national scale.
Stamp duty is becoming a reason not to move at all. One analysis earlier this year found that stamp duty receipts were down 6 per cent on last year, despite more sales being eligible to pay the tax since thresholds were changed in April 2025. And it’s not just younger homeowners; one survey this week found half of over-65s see stamp duty as an obstacle to moving house.
Will a generation be stuck in starter homes in much the same way pensioners are locked into cavernous empty nests, all in the name of avoiding stamp duty? What happens when the housing conveyor belt stops moving?
Burnham may have chosen to delay reform for now, but the Government can’t put it off forever.