Housing Policy, Brought to You by Mom and Pop, Inc.
Every time we talk about the housing sector, an expert invokes the mythical creature known as the “mom and pop” landlord. These gentle beings, we’re told, are just a struggling family scraping by while generously providing you shelter, out of the goodness of their hearts, of course. The problem? With no single data source on rental property ownership in Canada, it’s nearly impossible to pin down exactly how many of these “mom and pops” actually exist. For all we know, they’re as common as unicorns… or affordable apartments in downtown Toronto.
But here’s where the fairy tale loses its sparkle: by 2019, nearly 38% of Toronto condos weren’t cozy homes at all, they were investor trophies, either sitting empty, rented out, or serving as someone’s “just in case” crash pad. Vancouver took it up a notch, with almost half (46%) of condos functioning like glorified piggy banks with plumbing. The business model? A revolving cast of tenants—students, temporary workers, young renters, newcomers—willing to put up with shoebox layouts and IKEA-grade finishes because they figured, “Hey, this is temporary… right?” It’s basically the condo equivalent of staying at a unregistered Airbnb until you can finally afford a hotel with walls thicker than a cereal box. (Data Source: Maclean’s, 2025)
The “mom and pop” story covers this neat little fact. It swaps out the picture of an investor wringing every last dollar out of the housing market for the softer image of a (older) couple balancing a checkbook at the kitchen table. Suddenly, policy isn’t about tackling a speculative market, it’s about protecting poor Grandma Mildred’s basement suite. But let’s be real: landlords are businesses. Big businesses (see REITs). And businesses aren’t in it for hugs or community spirit. They cut costs wherever possible and raise prices as high as the “market” can handle because that’s how you maximize profit. Spoiler alert: in all our major cities, they are the market. Tenants, in this equation, are not neighbours or community members; they’re cogs in the wage-collection machine. And when one cog stops paying? Easy—swap it out for a new one. Or worse bring in a foreign investor.
So maybe it’s time to stop this “mom and pop” narrative. Instead of centering debates around fragile “mom and pop” shopkeepers of the rental world, we could call them what they really are: a profit-driven business. Nothing wrong with that, unless, of course, your business model depends on housing being scarce, precarious, and increasingly out of reach.
