Australia’s Forever Renters, Thanks to Mass Immigration, By James Reed
The article from ABC News, published on March 27, 2025,
paints a stark picture of Australia's evolving housing landscape, where the dream of home ownership—once a cornerstone of the national psyche—is slipping out of reach for many, particularly younger generations. Titled "Australians Are Increasingly Becoming 'Forever Renters' as the Housing Crisis Bites," it traces how soaring house prices, stagnant wages, and economic pressures have turned renters into a growing cohort of "forever renters," either by necessity or choice. Historically, Australians have been fed the mantra that "rent money is dead money" and home ownership is a surefire path to wealth. But with Sydney's median house price ballooning from $18,700 in the 1970s to $1,186,459 today, and Melbourne's rising from $12,800 to $772,561 (per CoreLogic), that ideal is crumbling.
The piece highlights financial advisor Adam Kerr's observation that saving for a deposit is now a pipe dream for many, locking them out of the market. Post-Covid, 13 interest rate hikes by the Reserve Bank of Australia from May 2022 hammered borrowers, slashing disposable income and pushing some to sell homes—16 percent of properties flipped in under three years in 2023, a decade-high. Meanwhile, renting is no picnic: Simone Opie, a 52-year-old renter, spends nearly half her Centrelink payments on rent, leaving little for essentials, while young people on youth allowance can't find a single affordable rental nationwide, per Anglicare. The Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (AHURI) notes renting spiked across all age groups from 2011 to 2021, with home ownership projected to drop from 67 percent to 63 percent over the next two decades.
Dr. Dorina Pojani, a University of Queensland urban planning expert and self-proclaimed "forever renter," frames long-term renting as a viable choice for some—freeing them from maintenance and offering flexibility—but warns of its downsides: unpredictable rent hikes, no-fault evictions, and cultural stigma branding renters as "second-class citizens." Psychologically, the rental crisis erodes self-worth and future optimism, while financially, it demands strategic planning—investing in shares or superannuation rather than property. Yet, as Kerr notes, retirees renting face steeper challenges, needing larger asset pools and navigating pension rules that favour homeowners.
Now, look at young Australians—Gen Z and younger Millennials—trapped as "forever renters," with mass immigration fanning the flames of an already brutal housing crisis. The ABC News piece doesn't directly blame immigration, but posts on social media X and broader discourse scream it loud: Australia's record immigration—737,000 net arrivals in a year, per some claims—has turbocharged housing demand while supply lags, leaving young Aussies wrecked.
Picture this: you're 25, scraping by on a casual gig or entry-level wage—median full-time earnings hover around $70,000, but a Sydney unit's median price is over $800,000. A 20 percent deposit? That's $160,000—over two years' gross salary before tax, rent, and living costs. Back in the 1970s, a house cost 5–6 times the average income; now it's 12–15 times in major cities. Immigration's role? It's simple math—more people, same number of homes; the population's nearing 28 million, and construction can't keep up. Approvals are tanking while rents soar—Domain's 2024 report pegged a 17-year peak in house rent hikes.
Young renters like Madi (from the article's imagery) aren't just battling costs—they're up against a market warped by fierce competition and low vacancy rates. A single unit's median rent now demands a $130,000 income to avoid stress, per Everybody's Home, while youth allowance tops out at $22,000 a year. No wonder Anglicare found zero affordable rentals for them. Add in 737,000 newcomers—many cashed-up—and the queue for a lease gets longer, the prices steeper. Landlords, smelling profit, jack up rents or flip to short-term lets like Airbnb, shrinking the pool further.
The fallout's brutal. Psychologically, it's a gut punch—stigma as "second-class citizens" (Dr. Pojani's words) mixes with anxiety over no-fault evictions, like Simone's four moves in Port Macquarie. Financially, it's a treadmill: half your income's gone to rent, saving's a joke, and home ownership's a fantasy. Sure, you could invest in shares—9.2 percent average returns over 30 years, says Morningstar—but that's a slow burn, and volatility (like recent corrections) spooks the risk-averse. Superannuation? Great, until you're 67 and still renting with no pension buffer, since homes are exempt from asset tests but your stock portfolio isn't.
Mass immigration's thearsonist here. Decades of underbuilding, zoning red tape, and tax perks for investors (negative gearing, anyone?) laid the tinder. But when Labor (or whoever's in charge) lets in record numbers to juice the economy—propping up budgets—it's young Aussies who get burned. They're not building wealth; they're bleeding it to landlords. The Fortune piece on Gen Z NEETs (not in education, employment, or training) from March 25, 2025, nods to a parallel despair—higher ed's losing lustre when degrees don't buy stability, let alone a house.
So, what's the fix? Dr. Pojani's right—ban no-fault evictions, cap rent spikes, push long-term leases. But the elephant's supply: immigration's got to sync with housing starts, or this crisis festers. Young Aussies aren't just "forever renters"—they're a generation priced out of the Australian Dream, watching it vanish in a flood of new arrivals and old policies.
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