Walking through Montreal’s iconic Plateau-Mont-Royal district last week, I couldn’t help but notice the changing landscape. Where tourist-filled short-term rentals once dominated, “For Rent” signs now increasingly appear in windows. This transformation comes as Montreal implements some of Canada’s strictest short-term rental regulations, a bold policy gambit aimed at easing a housing crisis that has gripped Quebec’s largest city.
As of May 1, Montreal has effectively banned Airbnb and similar platforms across most residential zones. The city now limits short-term rentals to designated commercial corridors – primarily along major streets like Saint-Laurent Boulevard and Saint-Denis Street – zones that represent just a small fraction of Montreal’s total area.
“We’ve reached a breaking point,” explained Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante during a community forum I attended in Villeray. “When nearly 60 percent of Montreal renters spend over 30 percent of their income on housing, we needed to take decisive action.” Plante’s administration has positioned the Airbnb restrictions as a cornerstone of their housing affordability strategy.
The new regulations reflect a dramatic policy shift. Previously, hosts could operate in residential areas with a provincial permit and minimal municipal oversight. Now, according to Quebec’s Ministry of Tourism, permits will only be issued to properties in the few remaining authorized zones. Those caught operating illegally face municipal fines ranging from $1,000 to $7,000 per day, while provincial penalties can reach a staggering $100,000.
Data from housing advocacy group RCLALQ suggests the impact could be substantial. Their research indicates Montreal had approximately 12,000 active Airbnb listings before the regulations, with over 58% located in areas now prohibited from hosting short-term rentals.
“This isn’t just about tourists versus residents,” explains Catherine Lussier, a housing coordinator with community organization Front d’action populaire en réaménagement urbain (FRAPRU). “It’s about rebalancing a housing ecosystem that’s been distorted by commercial interests.”
During conversations with residents in the Notre-Dame-de-Grâce neighborhood, I discovered mixed reactions. Homeowner Jean Tremblay, who supplemented his retirement income with Airbnb, expressed frustration: “The city’s painting us all with the same brush. I’ve never caused problems, and now I’m losing critical income.”
Meanwhile, Sophia Rodriguez, a young professional who’s moved three times in two years due to rising rents, offered a different perspective: “Every apartment converted back to long-term housing gives people like me a fighting chance to stay in the city we love.”
Montreal’s approach represents one of the most aggressive regulatory frameworks in Canada. While Vancouver and Toronto have implemented their own restrictions, Montreal’s near-total ban in residential areas goes further than most major North American cities.
The new rules come amidst alarming housing statistics. According to the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation, Montreal’s rental vacancy rate sits at just 2%, well below the 3% threshold considered healthy. Meanwhile, average rents increased by 8.2% last year alone, far outpacing wage growth.
Tourism industry representatives have voiced concerns about potential economic impacts. “Montreal welcomed over 9.3 million visitors last year,” notes Yves Lalumière, president of Tourisme Montréal. “We need to ensure we maintain adequate accommodation options across diverse price points.”
The city counters that its 24,000 hotel rooms, plus short-term rentals in authorized zones, will adequately serve tourism needs while rebalancing the housing market.
Enforcement represents the next challenge. Quebec’s tourism ministry and Montreal’s urban planning department have created a joint enforcement team, but with thousands of potential illegal listings, monitoring compliance remains daunting.
Walking through Saint-Henri, I spoke with building manager Maria Gonzalez, who has witnessed firsthand the impact of ghost hotels. “We had an investor buy three units in our building and run them as full-time Airbnbs. The constant parties, garbage, and security issues were unbearable for permanent residents.”
City councillor Craig Sauvé defended the stringent approach: “This isn’t anti-tourism; it’s pro-housing. Visitors will still have plenty of options in commercial zones designed to accommodate them, while residential neighborhoods can return to their intended purpose.”
Montreal’s experiment will likely serve as a case study for other Canadian municipalities grappling with similar housing pressures. Early indications from real estate platforms suggest a modest increase in long-term rental listings, though it’s too early to determine the regulations’ full impact on housing availability and affordability.
For everyday Montrealers like Justine Lapointe, a healthcare worker I met at a community housing forum in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, the regulations represent a glimmer of hope. “Maybe now my daughter won’t have to leave the neighborhood she grew up in just to find an affordable apartment.”
As cities across Canada search for solutions to the housing crisis, Montreal’s bold stance on short-term rentals may prove to be either a cautionary tale or a blueprint for reclaiming housing stock. Either way, the city’s residents find themselves at the center of a crucial experiment in urban housing policy – one that could reshape the relationship between tourism, housing, and community for years to come.
