The Vancouver Real Estate Bubble: Overpriced, Overhyped, and On the Verge of Collapse

Inventory Is Rising—But Buyers Are Ghosting

Vancouver’s housing market is facing a brutal paradox: more homes are hitting the market, yet fewer are selling. In any rational environment, this dynamic would result in falling prices and an eventual equilibrium. But Vancouver isn’t a rational market—it’s a city built on the illusion of limitless demand, fueled by a cocktail of global capital, governmental denial, and real estate worship. Now, the illusion is cracking.

According to the Real Estate Board of Greater Vancouver (REBGV), new listings in March 2025 climbed over 23% compared to the same month last year. Total inventory levels are nearing a five-year high, with 12,213 homes listed across Metro Vancouver, up from just under 9,900 in March 2024. Yet sales volume has plunged—residential home sales are down 31% compared to the peak in spring 2021, and nearly 19% lower year-over-year.

The reason is simple: buyers are done playing the fool. They’re walking into open houses expecting quality, only to be greeted by homes with 1970s popcorn ceilings, faded linoleum floors, and aging plumbing, priced at $2.8 million like they’re luxury estates. In many cases, sellers haven’t spent a dime modernizing their homes but expect top-dollar because of the “location.” In neighborhoods like Kitsilano and Point Grey, listings for teardowns on small lots regularly top $3.5 million—sometimes even more if there’s a view, even if the house itself is barely habitable.

Meanwhile, in more affordable parts of the city like East Vancouver or New Westminster, the price tags are still well above what most first-time buyers can afford. A modest 2-bedroom condo in Burnaby now averages around $795,000, while a basic townhouse in Surrey is pushing $1 million. Even with 5.25% mortgage interest rates, developers are still trying to sell 1-bedroom pre-sale units for $950,000—a clear sign that many in the market are still out of touch.

What’s driving this disconnect? Primarily, seller stubbornness. Many current sellers either bought during the boom and are afraid to “lose money” on paper or they’re speculators who purchased during the pandemic with the belief that prices would never fall. They’re clinging to yesterday’s valuations, pricing homes based on peak market fantasies rather than present-day realities. But today’s buyers are armed with research, data, and caution. They’re no longer willing to pay a million-dollar premium for a moldy basement and a shaky foundation.

Open house attendance is down, offers are rare, and price reductions are quietly increasing. According to data from Zolo.ca, over 38% of listings in Greater Vancouver have undergone at least one price drop in the past 90 days. In the higher-end segments, the situation is even worse: in West Vancouver, where the average home is listed around $3.8 million, more than 54% of homes have lingered on the market for over three months.

Even new developments are feeling the sting. In areas like Brentwood and Richmond Centre, condo towers that once sold out pre-construction are now sitting half-empty. Investors, particularly those who bought with 2021 optimism, are unable to rent their units at rates that cover mortgage payments. As vacancies rise and rental cap rates continue to hover around 2.5%, many are opting to list units, further flooding the market.

Meanwhile, buyer sentiment has shifted dramatically. The Bank of Canada’s tightening cycle has made it far more expensive to borrow. A $1 million mortgage at today’s interest rates costs over $5,800 per month in principal and interest alone—before taxes, insurance, and strata fees. That figure alone is pricing out even high-income professionals, let alone families or young couples trying to enter the market.

And yet, sellers haven’t caught on. Many refuse to reduce prices, holding out for unicorn buyers that no longer exist. The result is stagnation—a frozen market where inventory builds, but deals don’t close. We’re seeing the early signs of a correction that will either be slow and painful or sudden and brutal, depending on how long this stalemate continues.

If you’re a buyer, the advice is clear: wait. Prices are coming down, whether sellers like it or not. And if you're a seller, it’s time to wake up: yesterday’s price is not today’s value.

Sellers Drunk on the Profits of the Madness

The psychology of Vancouver’s housing market is unlike anything in North America. Sellers—many of whom struck gold during the pandemic-induced boom—have become drunk on their own perceived genius. They watched homes appreciate by 30–45% between 2020 and 2022, convinced that real estate in Vancouver was immune to gravity. And now, in 2025, despite a very clear shift in economic conditions, these sellers remain paralyzed by hubris.

You can see it in the listings. A bungalow in Renfrew Heights—old siding, rotting deck, cracked foundation—listed for $2.35 million, citing “future development potential” that might materialize in a decade. A 1-bedroom condo downtown, built in 2008 with outdated fixtures and no central AC, priced at $829,000—roughly $1,400 per square foot. These aren’t anomalies. They are the norm.

This behavior didn’t manifest overnight. It’s the result of years of conditioning. Between 2005 and 2022, Vancouver’s benchmark home price rose by over 250%, outpacing local incomes by an almost comical degree. By 2023, the average price-to-income ratio in Metro Vancouver reached 13.6, the highest in the country and among the worst globally—surpassing even London and New York. Homeowners internalized the belief that holding property was not just safe—it was wealth creation on autopilot.

Many of these sellers never planned to improve their homes. A vast number of listings are decades-old stock with minimal upgrades, priced as if they were brand-new builds. Others are pre-sale flips or investment units never intended to be occupied. And because of B.C.’s speculative fervor, even suburban areas are not immune: modest townhomes in Langley are still listed at $1.1 million, and “luxury” duplexes in Surrey reach $1.5 million, despite build quality that any walk-through reveals as subpar.

The entitlement is staggering. Some sellers reject full-price offers because they “heard their neighbor got more,” or they inflate prices by $300,000–$500,000 hoping to “test the market.” The listing descriptions are often delusional: homes advertised as “luxury” that feature laminate floors, poorly installed kitchen cabinets, and a complete lack of insulation or soundproofing. Real estate agents, pressured to perform in a slow market, go along with these fantasies rather than challenge them.

It’s a classic bubble dynamic—prices divorced from fundamentals, driven instead by speculation, storytelling, and irrational expectations. What makes it worse is the belief that the market will always “bounce back.” But this time, the bounce isn’t coming. We’re in a different macro environment now. Interest rates are high, wage growth is weak, and immigration-fueled demand—though still present—is being met with buyer fatigue and growing skepticism.

Developers, too, are part of the problem. During the pandemic, pre-sale projects sold out within days, often based on little more than floorplans and renderings. Now, those same units are hitting the resale market before completion, as flippers try to offload purchases they can no longer afford to close on. But buyers have wised up. They’re doing walkthroughs. They’re spotting corner-cutting. They’re asking why the walls echo, why the flooring is uneven, why the paint chips when touched. The answer is often simple: poor construction fueled by greed and an absence of regulation.

This situation is not only about price—it’s about value. And right now, Vancouver real estate offers some of the worst value in the country. A 4-bedroom detached home in Calgary costs less than a 2-bedroom condo in Burnaby. In Toronto, buyers can purchase full-floor lofts in converted industrial buildings for less than a cheaply built townhome in Coquitlam. Even internationally, Vancouver looks absurd: homes here are more expensive than in parts of Los Angeles, Miami, and Barcelona.

And still, many sellers wait. They assume that some foreign buyer, some crypto millionaire, or some desperate Vancouverite will pay the asking price. But that buyer isn’t coming. Not in this market. Not with mortgage rates this high, and certainly not when Canada’s household debt-to-income ratio is sitting at 180%, the highest in the G7.

The refusal to adjust prices is leading to paralysis. As of April 2025, the average days on market has stretched to 44 days for detached homes, up from just 22 days in 2021. Many homes are delisted, only to be re-listed weeks later at the same price. Others sit stale while newer, better-priced listings undercut them. It’s death by stubbornness, and sellers have no one to blame but themselves.

The bubble doesn’t burst because people sell; it bursts because people stop buying. And that’s where we are now. The buyer pool is shrinking, prices are stalling, and the belief that “Vancouver always goes up” is crumbling. When that myth dies, so does the fantasy of never-ending appreciation.

COVID-Era Policies and Their Role in Inflating the Market

The pandemic did not create Vancouver’s real estate bubble—it simply accelerated it into overdrive. Between early 2020 and late 2021, a mix of emergency monetary policies, short-sighted government interventions, and speculative fervor turned the city’s already fragile housing market into a full-blown speculative casino. If you’re wondering how we went from a health crisis to $2.5 million teardown bungalows, look no further than the decisions made during this 18-month window.

Let’s start with interest rates. In March 2020, the Bank of Canada slashed its overnight rate to 0.25%, the lowest level in modern history. The stated goal was to stimulate economic activity and prevent a credit crisis—but the unintended consequence was an unprecedented wave of real estate speculation. Cheap borrowing allowed buyers to access massive leverage. A family making $110,000 per year could suddenly qualify for a $900,000 mortgage, which under normal interest conditions would have been capped around $650,000. This led to a bidding frenzy that saw homes selling for hundreds of thousands above asking—sight unseen, and often without inspections.

Homeowners who would’ve otherwise downsized or stayed put decided to cash in. Investors gobbled up everything in sight. By Q1 2021, over 21.6% of home purchases in British Columbia were made by investors, according to Statistics Canada. That’s more than one in five homes being snapped up not for shelter, but for speculation.

Meanwhile, the federal government was flooding the economy with liquidity. Between March 2020 and June 2021, over $400 billion in stimulus was injected into Canada’s financial system—equal to roughly 18% of national GDP. Much of this found its way into housing. While CERB and CEWS were designed to support basic living and payroll needs, high-income households also benefited from reduced spending, travel bans, and historically low interest on their lines of credit. Combined with a sudden focus on “home as a sanctuary,” real estate became both a financial and psychological refuge.

The situation was made worse by deferred mortgage payments. The Canadian Bankers Association revealed that over 780,000 mortgage deferrals were approved in 2020—effectively allowing over-leveraged owners to hold on to their properties with no consequence. This artificial support delayed foreclosures, reduced listing pressure, and kept prices inflated at a time when unemployment and economic activity should have triggered a natural cooling.

On the policy front, governments were slow to react. There was no coordinated effort to prevent investors from dominating the market. No restrictions on house-flipping, no national foreign buyer ban (until 2023, when it was already too late), and no attempts to retool housing as a human right rather than a commodity. While CMHC offered vague warnings about “overheating,” both the provincial and federal governments seemed content to let the bubble inflate—driven in part by the $10 billion in annual property transfer taxes and the political risk of upsetting homeowners.

The result? Between March 2020 and March 2022, Vancouver’s average home price rose by 40.4%, peaking at $1.47 million. Detached homes rose even more, with price gains exceeding $600,000 in some neighborhoods. Even entry-level condos saw price inflation of 25–30%, making it nearly impossible for first-time buyers to enter the market without family wealth or aggressive leverage.

And let’s not ignore the role of developers during this time. Sensing opportunity, many rushed to launch new pre-sale projects. But in the race to meet speculative demand, quality plummeted. Shoddy builds, wafer-thin walls, and questionable materials became common complaints. Yet these units sold out instantly, with buyers lined up down the block, often placing deposits with no intention of moving in—just to flip the contract before completion. That speculative fervor has now cooled, but the legacy of those poor builds will haunt the city for decades.

The long-term damage? An entire generation priced out. Millennials and Gen Z, already burdened by student debt and precarious employment, now face a landscape where saving for a down payment on a median home could take 27 years. A growing number of renters feel like permanent outsiders in their own city. And young families, squeezed out by housing costs, are leaving Vancouver altogether—relocating to the Fraser Valley, Okanagan, or Alberta, accelerating a brain drain that weakens the city’s future economy.

In hindsight, the pandemic should have been a moment of recalibration. A chance to rethink housing policy, prioritize affordability, and restore sanity to the market. Instead, it was exploited as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for wealth accumulation—by those who already owned. The result? A bloated, unstable market teetering on the edge of correction, with structural inequality now baked into the city’s housing DNA.

Now, as interest rates normalize and stimulus fades, the artificial scaffolding propping up the market is eroding. The very policies that inflated the bubble have left us more vulnerable than ever to its collapse.

Foreign Money, Fraud & the Era of “Empty Homes”

For decades, Vancouver’s housing market has been a global commodity exchange disguised as a city. Behind the façade of million-dollar lawns and luxury listings lies a darker reality: a market inflated not just by domestic demand, but by an extraordinary volume of foreign capital—much of it speculative, some of it fraudulent, and all of it corrosive to the idea that housing is for people, not portfolios.

Let’s get straight to the point: foreign money broke this market. It created distortions that have outpaced local incomes, inflated land values beyond what local developers can reasonably build on, and fundamentally redefined Vancouver housing as a vehicle for global wealth preservation rather than community living.

While the provincial government imposed a 15% Foreign Buyers’ Tax in 2016—later increased to 20%—and the federal government implemented a nationwide foreign buyer ban in 2023, the horse had already left the barn. Between 2008 and 2022, billions of dollars from mainland China, Hong Kong, Iran, and Russia flowed into B.C. real estate. And much of it did so under minimal scrutiny, through shell companies, nominee buyers, and trust structures that obscured the true owners.

A 2019 report by Transparency International identified more than $20 billion in real estate in B.C. with "unexplained wealth" or "opaque ownership." Another estimate by investigative outlet The Tyee suggested that up to 11% of luxury home transactions in Vancouver involved some form of money laundering or capital flight during the 2010s. These aren’t fringe cases—they are systemic.

Perhaps most damaging has been the rise of “satellite families”—a phenomenon where one spouse (usually the father) resides overseas running a business, while the other spouse and children reside in Vancouver, using the real estate as a family investment hub. These families often underreport income in Canada, yet purchase multi-million-dollar properties in cash. In 2018, a UBC-led study found that wealthy immigrant households in Vancouver had an average reported income of just $44,000—less than what many Uber drivers make in the city.

The social and economic impacts are profound. Vancouver neighborhoods are dotted with ghost homes—properties that sit dark, unoccupied for months at a time. In 2023, the City of Vancouver confirmed that over 10,800 properties were identified as “unoccupied” for more than six months under the Empty Homes Tax program, up from 7,900 in 2020. That’s not just lost housing—it’s dead space in the urban fabric. Empty sidewalks. Schools with declining enrollment. Small businesses without enough foot traffic to survive.

The argument that foreign investment brings economic benefit is a myth. These properties are not job creators—they’re wealth vaults. And their presence has bid up land costs for everyone. When a foreign buyer is willing to pay $4.2 million in cash for a 33-foot lot in Dunbar, how is a local builder supposed to compete? The land price becomes so inflated that any future development is forced to aim for ultra-luxury—because it’s the only segment that can support those margins.

Compounding the problem is the way luxury homes are treated in the city. Many of these homes are demolished after just 10 or 15 years—not because they’re uninhabitable, but because ultra-wealthy owners want to refresh their asset. Meanwhile, thousands of Vancouverites live in aging, crumbling rental stock with no heat, black mold, and absentee landlords who see housing as a revenue stream, not a responsibility.

And while the government has introduced a beneficial ownership registry, it remains riddled with loopholes. Corporate trustees, offshore family members, and nominee shareholders are still commonly used to conceal true ownership. The system depends heavily on self-reporting and lacks proactive enforcement mechanisms. In short: we still don’t know who really owns much of Vancouver.

This isn’t just bad policy—it’s a betrayal of the people who live here, work here, and pay taxes here. The average Vancouverite now competes not with other families, but with anonymous buyers whose only goal is to park capital in a "safe haven."

To make matters worse, foreign money didn’t just distort the ownership market—it infected the development pipeline. Luxury condos are built not for locals, but for offshore investors looking for storage lockers in the sky. Projects prioritize one-bedroom units under 600 square feet—cheap to build, easy to rent, and profitable to flip. This is how we ended up with a glut of “micro-units” no one wants to raise families in, while real demand for townhomes and family-sized rentals goes unmet.

And let’s be honest: much of this was allowed to happen because politicians at every level were either complicit or cowardly. Municipalities depended on development fees and property tax revenue. The province raked in billions through Property Transfer Taxes. No one wanted to stop the party. But now, with interest rates high and demand frozen, the cleanup is underway—and it’s going to get ugly.

There is a reckoning coming. The era of the foreign cash bonanza is ending, and in its place is a market bloated by overbuilt luxury inventory, underused homes, and a local population increasingly angry at being priced out of their own city. Unless governments get serious about transparency, ownership regulation, and cracking down on speculation, this bubble will burst with devastating consequences—not just financially, but socially and culturally.

What Happens When the Bubble Bursts—And Why It’s Closer Than You Think

When housing markets collapse, they don’t do so with a bang—they unwind slowly, painfully, and then all at once. Vancouver’s real estate market, long shielded by mythology and misplaced policy optimism, is now teetering at the edge. The signs are no longer subtle. What we’re witnessing isn’t a temporary correction or “cooling off” period—it’s the slow-motion implosion of a bubble built on greed, speculation, and false confidence.

What happens when it pops? The consequences will be massive—economically, socially, and politically.

First, let’s be clear on where we are today. As of April 2025, home sales in Metro Vancouver are down over 38% year-over-year, according to the Real Estate Board of Greater Vancouver (REBGV). Inventory is surging, yet buyers are retreating. Price reductions have become widespread, especially in the detached home segment, where almost 50% of active listings have undergone at least one price cut. But what’s more concerning is the nature of the price declines: they’re concentrated in the most overbuilt and overhyped segments—luxury homes, pre-sale condos, and investor-owned units.

Despite that, prices are still too high to be justified by any real local economic fundamentals. Detached homes are still averaging $2.1 million, while the median household income in Vancouver sits at just $89,000, creating an eye-watering price-to-income ratio of 23.5:1. This is not just unhealthy—it’s unsustainable.

This massive imbalance has created a dangerous standoff. Sellers are still living in the fantasy of 2021 valuations, while buyers are demanding meaningful price corrections before entering the market. The result is paralysis: listings pile up, homes linger for 70–100 days, and open houses become ghost towns. But markets do not stay frozen forever. They eventually crack—and once that crack widens, panic can set in.

So what happens next?

The first wave of pain will hit overleveraged investors. Many who purchased during the pandemic did so with variable-rate mortgages or minimal down payments. Now, with the Bank of Canada rate sitting at 5.25%, monthly payments have exploded. A $1.1 million mortgage that cost $3,800/month in 2021 now costs over $6,100/month. Many of these investors are already underwater. Some are walking away from pre-sale commitments. Others are trying to offload properties before closing—and failing.

Expect to see a surge in distressed listings, especially among those who bought multiple units during the boom. Airbnb and short-term rental investors—already struggling due to new provincial regulations—will likely start defaulting as rental income fails to cover rising costs. The City of Vancouver estimates that 30–40% of current STR units could be pushed back into the long-term rental pool within the next year—not by choice, but by necessity.

Next comes the broader price correction. While official forecasts remain conservative, some analysts are now projecting a 15–25% decline in home values across Metro Vancouver by mid-2026. In highly speculative pockets like West Vancouver, Burnaby’s Brentwood, and Richmond’s condo belt, the drops could be steeper—30% or more. This will wipe out equity for recent buyers, and trigger a ripple effect across industries tied to housing: construction, design, retail, and real estate services.

The collapse of investor confidence will also slam the development sector. As pre-sales stall, many projects will be shelved or cancelled. Construction starts are already slowing—down 19% year-over-year—and job losses in the trades could soon follow. This threatens to create a feedback loop: falling prices lead to cancelled builds, which reduces supply growth, but not before the glut of existing inventory is absorbed at far lower prices.

Financial institutions are also exposed. Canadian banks—especially regional lenders—have built portfolios heavily tied to real estate. A major correction could lead to a rise in mortgage delinquencies. According to the Office of the Superintendent of Financial Institutions (OSFI), household debt remains dangerously high, with the debt-to-disposable-income ratio sitting at 184.5%. Even a 1% rise in unemployment could trigger a significant spike in defaults—particularly among younger, highly-leveraged households who bought at the peak.

The psychological toll will be just as severe. For many Vancouverites, real estate was not just a place to live—it was a retirement plan, a symbol of status, and the cornerstone of generational wealth. A bubble burst would shatter that illusion. Homeowners who once saw themselves as millionaires on paper will be forced to confront the reality that they overpaid by hundreds of thousands of dollars. Some may be unable to sell without taking a loss. Others may have to delay retirement or face negative equity—a situation where the mortgage exceeds the value of the home.

And let’s not forget the political consequences. The B.C. government has ridden this housing market for over a decade, benefitting from billions in Property Transfer Tax revenue and HST from new developments. If prices fall significantly, that revenue will evaporate. Budget shortfalls could lead to cuts in social services, infrastructure delays, and rising public frustration. Already, younger voters are losing faith in politicians who have failed to address affordability. A market collapse would turn that disillusionment into full-blown political volatility.

Most tragically, a bubble burst won’t magically make homes affordable for first-time buyers. In fact, credit conditions could tighten further, making it even harder to qualify for a mortgage. Job losses in housing-related sectors may reduce overall purchasing power. And if rates remain high, monthly payments will still be crushing—even at lower prices.

So where does this leave us? In a precarious, uncomfortable middle ground. A bubble that won’t pop gently, a market that no longer serves the people living in it, and a city that is rapidly losing its ability to house its own. The worst-case scenario isn’t just a drop in home values—it’s a loss of trust in the entire system that allowed this bubble to grow unchecked for so long.

And we are closer to that scenario than most people want to admit.

How We Got Here—and What Must Change If Vancouver Is to Become Livable Again

The story of Vancouver’s real estate crisis is not just about numbers. It’s a reflection of a deeper societal failure—a systemic breakdown in how we govern, regulate, and think about housing. A city once known for its natural beauty, livability, and strong community values has transformed into a speculative gold mine, hijacked by greed, denial, and willful negligence. If we’re going to prevent this bubble from taking an entire generation down with it, we have to start by facing the truth about how we got here.

The seeds of this crisis were planted decades ago. In the late 1980s and 1990s, Vancouver began attracting international attention as a global gateway to the Pacific. By the early 2000s, waves of foreign wealth—especially from Hong Kong and mainland China—were flowing into its housing market. Property became the investment of choice for high-net-worth individuals looking to secure offshore assets. But instead of regulating this capital, governments embraced it.

Municipalities welcomed foreign buyers and overseas developers with open arms. The province looked the other way as luxury homes were purchased in cash through opaque ownership structures. Federal regulators failed to impose meaningful oversight on suspicious transactions. In short, we created the problem—and then denied its existence for years.

At the same time, Canadian culture began treating real estate as a retirement plan rather than a necessity. Homeownership became synonymous with success, and politicians—regardless of party—chose to protect existing homeowners at all costs, rather than champion affordability or supply diversity. Incentives like the First-Time Home Buyer’s Incentive, RRSP Home Buyer’s Plan, and even CMHC’s 5% down payment insurance all encouraged demand, but did little to address speculation or price growth.

Meanwhile, the private sector made things worse. Developers were incentivized to build for profit—not for need. Instead of family-sized rentals or co-op housing, the market was flooded with 500-square-foot “luxury” micro-condos, priced for flippers, not families. Much of Vancouver’s housing stock over the last two decades has been tailored to absentee owners or investors looking for short-term returns—not long-term community members.

And the result? A generation of people—skilled workers, artists, students, service professionals—who cannot afford to live in the city they help power. The average Vancouverite would now need to earn over $240,000 per year to “safely” afford a home at current prices. Meanwhile, the actual median personal income is just $45,370 according to Statistics Canada. That’s not just a gap—it’s an abyss.

Then came COVID-19, and the last of the brakes were removed. Ultra-low interest rates, unchecked mortgage deferrals, and massive liquidity injections created an artificial boom that pushed prices beyond the realm of reason. The pandemic was used by many as an opportunity to speculate even further, accelerating a two-decade trend of turning homes into assets, not shelter.

So where do we go from here?

First, we need structural change—not cosmetic fixes. That means:

• Implementing a national beneficial ownership registry that requires full transparency on all real estate transactions, with real penalties for evasion.
• A permanent ban or strict limitation on foreign ownership, with no exceptions for student visas, shell companies, or family nominees.
• Massive investment in non-market housing—co-ops, rentals, and publicly-owned developments must be treated as critical infrastructure, not a niche sector.
• A tax on underused land and vacant homes that actually bites—not the 1% symbolic taxes currently in place, but real financial disincentives.
• Zoning reform to break up the stranglehold of single-family neighborhoods and allow density where it’s needed most—especially near transit hubs and job centers.
  
  

Second, the financialization of housing must end. Housing is a human right—not a hedge against inflation, not a status symbol, and certainly not a commodity for foreign wealth preservation. This means limiting mortgage lending for speculative purchases, banning assignment flipping, and placing tight restrictions on short-term rentals in urban cores.

Third, governments must accept that market-based solutions alone will never fix this crisis. The private market has proven again and again that it cannot or will not build affordable homes at scale. That’s not because developers are evil—it’s because they’re businesses, and businesses exist to maximize profit. It’s the government’s job to step in when the market fails, and in housing, it has failed catastrophically.

And finally, there must be a cultural shift. Homeownership is not a moral accomplishment. Flipping a house is not a career. Owning three investment condos while your own city’s homeless population grows is not something to be proud of. We need to reclaim the idea that housing is first and foremost about stability, security, and dignity—not speculation and enrichment.

The longer we delay these changes, the more damage will be done. Vancouver cannot survive as a hollowed-out city of investors, ghost homes, and angry renters. It must be rebuilt—not just with concrete and permits, but with principles. Because if we continue down this road, the bubble won’t just burst. It will take our social cohesion, economic balance, and city identity down with it.

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