SHORT-TERM RENTALS, LONG-TERM PROBLEMS
A year after Quebec introduced new regulations, some Montrealers say the likes of Airbnb and HomeAway continue to wreak havoc in their neighbourhoods — bringing noise, trash and traffic to their streets while driving up rents and pushing out tenants. Jess
Bernard Sanchez stands on the sidewalk across from his house in Shaughnessy Village and points in all directions, singling out every second or third front door lining a residential street.
“There are five places within 20 metres of where we’re standing,” Sanchez says, identifying apartments being rented out through home-sharing services the likes of Airbnb and HomeAway.
He started noticing the trend about two years ago, when a house sold on Tupper St. was converted into a short-term rental property. It was easy to tell: People came and went with trolley suitcases in tow, often confused about parking restrictions along the street. Licence plates from different provinces and states became common.
Then another house was sold — more people coming and going — and units in the apartment complex at the corner started being rented out to tourists. The problems started accumulating: garbage being left by the curb, parties lasting until 3 a.m., broken bottles littering the sidewalk.
“I fear it will only get worse and worse,” Sanchez says.
“We won’t have quietness. We won’t have clean streets. We won’t have security or safety for our kids. It will affect the value of our properties. And it’s our homes.”
In other words, Sanchez says, all the reasons why he bought in the neighbourhood eight years ago are now under threat.
He isn’t alone to feel that way. Quebec amended its tourist accommodation law last year to try to regulate short-term rentals, but critics say little has been resolved.
Affordable housing advocates and tenants’ rights groups from across Montreal have spoken out about the havoc in their communities.
Operating in a regulatory grey zone, they say, the services have pushed out the poor and torn away at their neighbourhoods’ character and social fabric.
“We need help,” Sanchez says. “The law was changed to give it more teeth, but nothing seems to be happening.”
WHO’S ENFORCING THE RULES?
It was mostly with the hotel industry in mind that the Quebec government chose to amend its tourist accommodation law in April 2016. The revisions brought specific requirements for those looking to rent out their properties through home-sharing services the likes of Airbnb.
Mainly, it forced people who want to advertise their homes to tourists for no more than 31 days on a regular basis to obtain a $250 permit, have at least $2 million of insurance coverage and collect a nightly lodging tax paid to Revenu Québec. Fines for violators range from $2,500 to $25,000.
But exactly how much of that is being enforced today is hard to pin down.
The law allows municipal governments to play their part. Anyone looking for a permit in Montreal, for example, must first apply with the provincial tourism board, which then verifies with the city and its boroughs whether the address falls within permitted jurisdictions. Boroughs can have their own regulations and approaches.
But residents like Sanchez and his neighbours say the regulations are all for nothing if authorities are stretched too thin to enforce them, or if there are large loopholes.
Only 27 inspectors are mandated by Quebec’s tourism department to look into the issue across the province, a spokesperson said this week, up from two when the law first came into effect.
Available statistics indicate not much has changed since then: As of the last week of June, 99 permits had been issued in the Montreal area (there were 474 requests). And yet, the number of Airbnb listings in the city usually hovers upwards of 10,000.
In Shaughnessy Village, Sanchez and nine other homeowners have banded together to try to come up with a solution. Their street is zoned residential, meaning permits should not be allowed, according to Ville-Marie borough rules.
“We have nothing against shortterm rentals,” Sanchez says. “But we have a lot against illegal shortterm rentals.”
The breaking point came shortly after last summer’s Osheaga Music and Arts Festival, when festivalgoers returned to the street at all hours of the night, bringing the party back with them.
Sanchez’s neighbour, a nurse, came to see him almost in tears: With the unpredictability of her work shifts — on top of having two young children — she needs her rest and can’t afford sleepless nights. She couldn’t take it anymore, she told Sanchez.
The residents came together. Most of them bought their homes along Tupper St. when the area was in much worse shape, with every second building having windows boarded up with plywood, and rats often descending from an empty lot at the corner that doubled as a makeshift trash dump.
Today, most of the homes have been renovated, the empty lot is a condo complex and instead of rats, children play in the street — there are 10 under the age of 12 on the block alone, neighbours point out.
Sanchez says they’ve approached the owners they believe are renting out their apartments but the complaints were shrugged off.
In September 2016, Sanchez applied for a permit himself. He wanted to see if it would be granted, and also, he thought that maybe receiving it could be a way of solving the problem: Per borough regulations, there aren’t supposed to be two permits within 150 metres of each other in certain areas. His request was denied.
Now the group of homeowners is urging officials to act before the situation deteriorates.
“All of these activities should only bring good to the city,” Sanchez says. “But unfortunately, when nothing is done to control it, that good turns into bad for some.”
FEWER APARTMENTS FOR RESIDENTS
Across the city from Shaughnessy Village, in a small community centre tucked away in Montcalm Park, Martin Blanchard flips through a 13-page report the Petite-Patrie housing committee prepared last year on the effect Airbnb has had on the neighbourhood.
The report takes note of the same nuisances Sanchez and his neighbours have flagged, but as Blanchard points out, it also details a larger problem at play. It’s what he calls the pillaging of the neighbourhood’s rental housing stock, meaning how a dramatic increase in Airbnb listings over the last few years has resulted in a lack of available apartments for residents.
“We know it’s going to be a fight, but something needs to change,” Blanchard says. “It will be catastrophic if not.”
Long a working-class neighbourhood, La Petite-Patrie was popular among low-income residents looking for affordable housing. It started gentrifying in the early 2000s, when it’s estimated it lost 20 per cent of its rental housing stock to condominium conversions.
Blanchard says the impact Airbnb has had on housing availability is comparable to the worst years the neighbourhood has seen. And it doesn’t end there, he adds. According to the committee’s report, the majority of listings in the neighbourhood are for entire apartments (instead of a single room where the host is there) and are available for almost the entire year. Each one of those represents one less apartment on the market — a rough estimate puts the number of Airbnb listings around 1,300 in the neighbourhood — lowering the overall supply, increasing the demand, and ultimately driving up rent prices.
There are also fears that homesharing services could drive up property costs. Per the committee’s calculations, someone renting out their home full time in the neighbourhood could make $1,500 per month, nearly double the average monthly rent price. A buyer with that in mind won’t mind paying more for a place, the report notes, increasing the average costs in the borough and raising municipal taxes.
“Airbnb rentals act as an accelerator of the gentrification of the neighbourhood,” the report says.
But unlike the gentrification La Petite-Patrie has already seen, Blanchard says, Airbnb’s full impact is harder to track. When a condo replaces a rental unit, the committee can easily confirm it through the borough and follow up on the ramifications: Were there evictions or other repercussions? Did the tenants find a new home?
“But we can’t do that with Airbnb,” Blanchard says, noting that addresses aren’t always listed online. “It’s impossible to know.”
Blanchard says he’s encouraged by the borough’s initial response to the committee’s findings. He’s noticed a willingness to find a solution from local politicians, including a recent push from the Québec Solidaire opposition party. Even property owners’ associations — long at odds with housing advocates, he points out — have shown an interest in demanding changes.
In May, the Rosemont—La Petite-Patrie borough passed a motion to strengthen its regulations surrounding short-term rentals.
“It’s understandable for someone to want to rent out their home for a little while when they’re out of town,” city councillor Guillaume Lavoie said at a borough council meeting. “But it’s another story to buy the duplex across the street, kick the tenants out and turn it into two short-term rental units.”
Though he didn’t give details, Lavoie said the borough plans to implement what he called a first in Canada: regulations specifically targeting the issue in order to protect the borough’s rental housing stock.
“There are a lot of people who want the law enforced,” Blanchard says. “It’s either going to have to come by a legislative change, or it will take having five or six times the number of inspectors.
“Think about it: If there were no police officers patrolling the street, would drivers respect traffic lights and speed limits? It’s the same thing.”
QUEBEC PROMISES CHANGES
Patrick Soucy, press attaché for Tourism Minister Julie Boulet, told the Montreal Gazette in an email that the government plans to increase the number of inspectors and transfer inspection responsibilities to Revenu Québec to better enforce the regulations.
Soucy did not say when the changes could come into effect (they were announced in Quebec’s 2017 budget in March) or whether the current law is being revised overall.
In Shaughnessy Village, Sanchez and his neighbours are hoping for the best.
On June 14, Sanchez made his way to the Ville-Marie borough council meeting and approached the microphone during question period. His neighbours sat in the crowd behind him.
Addressing Mayor Denis Coderre, he started with a story. The day before, he told Coderre, he was returning from work when he noticed a real estate agent trying to sell the home next to his. The agent was talking to a group of four women who seemed interested in buying. Listening in, Sanchez said, he heard the agent say they would be able to rent out the unit on Airbnb.
“I could not believe it,” Sanchez told Coderre, and urged him to act quickly on the issue.
“We are residents, citizens and taxpayers ready to participate in solving the problem,” he said.
Coderre answered that the borough, and the city on a whole, is focused on creating better dialogue and establishing areas where it will be made clear home-sharing services aren’t allowed.
However, he added, the sharing economy is here to stay, and cities will need to adapt.
Other cities have already wrestled with short-term rental legislation in their own way. San Francisco, where Airbnb originated, battled the company in court over proposed regulations that would see the service fined $1,000 a day for each unregistered host.
New York banned short-term rentals of complete apartments (where the resident often isn’t home), and Berlin effectively banned short-term rentals altogether, with fines reaching up to 100,000 euros.
Toronto recently proposed regulations that would prohibit people from renting out homes that aren’t their principal residence.
“There will never be a perfect situation,” Coderre said at the June meeting. “We can’t establish a framework that’s too rigid, because it won’t work anyways. We need to be flexible, both with the regulations and with how they’re applied.
“We can make all the laws we want, but at the end of the day, if we’re not able to resolve the situation, it won’t matter.
“I would rather tame the beast in some other way,” Coderre finally said, pausing to reflect. “Because it is a beast.”