Long before a noted German philosopher espoused, “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs,” the belief system of the indigenous Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Mohicans that lived on these lands was deeply rooted in the concept of community. As stewards of their land, we should consider how we can pay homage to their ancestral precept of caring for those in need in our community.
When I consider community, my thoughts turn first to the Nordic countries. It has never been clear to me how abstract concepts such as “happiness” are reduced to empirical data, but since the scientists that measure such things continue to do so, it must at least be clear to them. These happiness-measuring social scientists go about the world to report annually that Finland is the happiest country, six years running now, closely followed by Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Iceland. One cannot help wondering why.
We do know that each of the non-Disney happiest places on earth deeply cares for one another as universal-welfare states: The citizens provide one another cradle-to-grave welfare benefits (e.g., health care, childcare, old-age pensions, and health insurance). I have never considered “health insurance” and “happiness” together. I must be doing it wrong.
Of course, with great social programs come great tax burdens. The top marginal tax rates in Scandinavia are about 60 to 70 percent, compared to 40-ish percent in the United States.
I have also never encountered high taxes and happiness in the same thought. To be clear, I like being happy as much as the next person, but if it requires 70 percent of my income, maybe I don’t need to jump for joy. Content. I would be good with content. Pleased would even be fine.
My father’s mantra at every all-you-can buffet we visited—apparently learned from his stint in the Army—was to take what you want but eat what you take. Our progressive tax system and social safety nets are premised on a similar belief that one should contribute what they can and take only what one needs. That feels consistent with the German philosopher’s views and the Mohicans’ community practices.
It is with this understanding of the community that I consider Great Barrington Selectboard Vice Chair Leigh Davis’ recently announced proposal for a real estate transfer fee to support affordable and workforce housing in Great Barrington. As I understand it, Ms. Davis is proposing a one percent transfer fee, split evenly between buyer and seller, to be applied to real estate sales exceeding $1 million. The fee will only apply to sales (intra-family transfers, as between spouses, or as between parents and children, would be exempt). The proceeds from the fee will be transferred to a housing trust to support affordable and workforce housing efforts.
Ms. Davis is to be lauded once again for rolling up her sleeves and figuring out creative ways to attack issues facing our community. As we saw with the short-term rental regulation nearly two years ago, Ms. Davis attacks the problems facing our community with reasonable, workable solutions.
Having kicked the tires on Ms. Davis’s proposal, it is without reservation that I can say the transfer fee merits the entire town’s support (although I expect that one little corner of the town, the real estate brokerage community, will just hate it). Teddy Roosevelt said that our country will not be a good place for any of us to live in unless we make it a good place for all of us to live in. Given the chance, he assuredly would have approved of the transfer fee too.
To consider what the one percent fee might mean to the town’s affordable housing efforts, Ms. Davis presented numbers based on fiscal 2022 real estate sales. In fiscal 2022, there were 148 parcels sold totaling $87.3 million (which would be about two condominiums on Manhattan’s Billionaire’s Row, but I digress). Of those 148 transfers, only 14 parcels, 9.4 percent of the total, would have been assessed the transfer fee on their sales of $20,924,000 (about 24 percent of total sales). Had the fee been assessed in fiscal 2022, the town would have raised $209,240 for its affordable and workforce housing efforts.
The amount that will be raised annually through the transfer fee will not be a life-changing, we-won’t-have-to-worry-about-affordable-housing-ever-again amount, but it will not be a chump change either. It would be yet another revenue stream to enable our community to house the workforce that educates our children, secures our streets, extinguishes our fires, and rushes to our aid. That is nothing to scoff at.
The real estate community will no doubt come out swinging, claiming that the sky will fall if such a fee is implemented. “Poppycock” is the polite empirical response. The fee is common across (blue) America. Los Angeles, San Francisco, Santa Monica, and San Jose are still standing. Boston, Amherst, Cambridge, Concord, and several other Massachusetts cities and towns have approved the transfer fee, each merely waiting for legislative action to permit implementation.
If you are fortunate enough to sell a $1 million home in Great Barrington (based on fiscal 2022 data, fewer than 10 percent of town residents enjoy such luxury), you may wonder what the fee would cost you in practice. The math is pretty simple: $5,000, and it will cost the buyer a similar amount. It just doesn’t cost much, particularly when one considers that one profits most who serves best.
Half a percent of the sale of your $1 million home will not make you jump for joy happy. Half a percent of the sale of your $1 million home should make you very content that you have helped those in your community that need help the most. We are not talking about a 60 to 70 percent Scandinavian tax, just a small fee paid by those in our community that can afford to help others in our community that need it. A fair definition of community.
I would be very pleased—no, I would be downright happy to pay the affordable housing transfer fee. It is said that we make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give. The fee doesn’t demand that we dig deep, but it does permit us to provide a service to the community within our abilities. On $1 million, no one is really going to miss something more than a rounding error. And if you are truly concerned that the fee might eat into your nest egg, split the fee with your broker. You know, spread the joy.
