Here’s Megan McArdle on how the housing bubble and resultant crisis happened:
In fact, according to a new paper by Fernando Ferreira and Joseph Gyourko, subprime loans accounted for only a bare majority of defaults at the beginning of the housing crisis. Between the third quarter of 2006 and the third quarter of 2012, twice as many prime borrowers lost their homes as subprime borrowers.
This is not a phenomenon that can be simply explained by liar loans, predatory lenders, or any other narrative that neatly loads all the blame onto a few greedy and heedless lenders, or a somewhat larger number of hubristic and speculative borrowers…
Once upon a time, there was a country with a housing market that started to rise. As the market started to rise, housing defaults started to fall. They fell not because people had gotten wiser about borrowing, or better at managing their money, but because borrowers in a rising housing market virtually never need to default; they can always simply sell the house, walking away with whatever equity is left over after paying off the mortgage.
Lenders loved this. “Splendid! If default has become less likely,” the lenders said, “we do not need to worry so much about things like down payments or credit histories. Who cares if they can’t pay the mortgage each month; if they get into trouble, they’ll just sell the house and pay us.”.
McCardle goes on to explain that requiring bigger down payments could have eased the crisis somewhat when house prices started to fall (or at least stopped rising), as they inevitably would. Why did the pundits and prognosticators and people making the loans not see that they inevitably would fall some day? Well, there was money to be made in the meantime, and lots of it, so the push was on. But McArdle lists another reason:
When prices had been in a long, gentle rise for decades, high down payments looked like expensive and unnecessary insurance against something that rarely happened. They looked like a barrier keeping historically disadvantaged groups, like minorities and immigrants, from accumulating wealth the way that prosperous native white families had. They looked like something that regulators and bankers had needed to require before they got so darn smart about managing credit risks, and credit markets.
Everyone, from buyers to regulators, had reams of data telling them this. Who are you going to believe: years and years of statistics, or some crabby dude muttering about the Great Depression? The Great Depression was so long ago that men wore hats and the Beatles were not even gleams in their fathers’ eyes.
It just so happens that I had grown up hearing—not “some crabby dude muttering about the Great Depression”—but my very own mother muttering about the Great Depression. The Depression was going full bore when she was in college. For her entire life thereafter, she remained a political liberal (FDR was the greatest, in her opinion), but you’d have to look long and hard to find someone more fiscally conservative than my mother was.
Her family had had somewhat of a financial cushion, and that helped them weather the storm of the Depression without extreme hardship. My mother got a job in Manhattan as a secretary when she graduated from college, and she lived at home with her grandparents and parents all in one house. But the fiance to whom she’d gotten engaged broke up with her when he graduated from law school and could not find a job anywhere (he ended up as a career Army guy). Other people she knew had to drop out of school—sometimes high school—in order to help support their parents and siblings.
Since my mother lived most of her life in the same community in which she’d grown up and I was raised there, I knew these people, too. They were pointed out regularly to me and their tales of woe told me by my mother, who was a colorful storyteller. It wasn’t the sort of thing you’d be likely to forget, and so I didn’t.

