Airbnb and the empty city by Melina Barnett

Europe is facing a housing crisis that no longer hides behind statistics or policy jargon. It is visible in handwritten “for rent” signs that vanish within hours, in young professionals moving back with parents, in teachers and nurses commuting hours to serve cities they can no longer afford to live in. While many forces have contributed to this collapse, from underinvestment in public housing to speculative finance, one name has become impossible to ignore, Airbnb.

This is no longer about a few homeowners renting out spare rooms to make ends meet. That narrative is comforting, but outdated. In much of Europe, Airbnb has evolved into a sophisticated parallel housing market that competes directly with residents for space. Entire apartment blocks in Lisbon, Barcelona, Athens, Paris, and Amsterdam function more like informal hotels than neighbourhoods. Lights flicker on for weekends, suitcases roll over cobblestones, and the people who once gave these places life are quietly pushed out.

The damage is not abstract. When long term rentals become short term investments, supply collapses and prices surge. Landlords discover that a tourist paying for three nights can generate what a tenant pays in a month. Renovations follow, not to improve housing quality for locals, but to optimize listings for visitors. The result is predictable: rents rise faster than wages, evictions increase, and the very idea of stable urban life erodes.

Defenders of Airbnb often point to tourism, entrepreneurship, and consumer choice. But cities are not theme parks, and homes are not commodities like sneakers or smartphones. Housing is infrastructure. It is the foundation of social cohesion, labor markets, and democratic participation. When housing is treated primarily as a financial asset, cities hollow out. Schools close. Small businesses disappear. Communities fracture.

What makes this crisis especially infuriating is how fragmented the response has been. Some cities try to regulate, others hesitate, and platforms adapt faster than laws can follow. Caps are imposed, loopholes appear. Registration systems are introduced, enforcement lags. Local governments face legal threats, lobbying pressure, and technical obstacles that they cannot realistically handle alone.

This is precisely why the European Commission must step in. Housing markets may be local, but platforms like Airbnb operate across borders, jurisdictions, and legal gray zones. A single city banning short term rentals does little when capital simply flows elsewhere. Without coordinated European action, regulation becomes a game of whack a mole, and residents always lose.

Europe already understands the need to regulate digital platforms when they distort markets and undermine public interest. It has done so with data protection, competition law, and consumer rights. Housing deserves the same seriousness. Short term rental platforms should be subject to clear, enforceable EU wide rules that prioritize residential use, transparency, and accountability. If a property functions as a hotel, it should be regulated and taxed as one. If hosts operate multiple units, they are businesses, not casual sharers.

Critically, this is not an attack on tourism or mobility. Travel matters. Cultural exchange matters. But tourism must exist within limits that respect the right to housing. Cities thrive on visitors, but they survive on residents. When the balance tips too far, the very charm tourists come to experience evaporates.

There is also a moral dimension that cannot be ignored. Europe cannot simultaneously declare housing a human right and allow it to be systematically extracted for short term profit. The contradiction is glaring. Young people are told to be flexible, mobile, and patient, while policy silently rewards those who already own property and can leverage it endlessly. This is not innovation. It is inequality with an app.

Doing nothing is not neutrality. It is a choice, and it favours capital over community every time. The European Union was built to confront problems that individual states could not solve alone. The housing crisis, turbocharged by platforms like Airbnb, is exactly such a problem.

Cities are not failing because people want to visit them. They are failing because the people who live and work there are being priced out of existence. If Europe wants vibrant, livable cities in the future, it must act now, decisively and collectively. Otherwise, we will be left with beautiful shells, perfectly photographed, and fundamentally empty.

This moment demands courage over convenience. Regulating Airbnb will anger powerful interests, but leadership is measured by who it protects. Europe must choose people over platforms, homes over hype, and long term stability over short term profit, before the damage becomes irreversible for another generation across the continent.


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