A rental system that protects sitting tenants while frightening away landlords eventually harms future tenants

For many Turkish and Greek Cypriot families who settled in the UK after the conflicts of the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s, property ownership meant more than having somewhere to live. It meant security, independence and control over the future.

Like many migrant communities, Cypriots often arrived with little, worked long hours and tried to give their children the security they had lacked themselves. In some families, investment in rental property was also seen as a financial safeguard for daughters and sons as they reached adulthood and marriage.

For them and other small landlords, the Renters’ Rights act does not bode well. The act came into force on May 1, 2026 in England and will likely have a significant impact on small landlords who provide 51 per cent of private rented tenancies according to the UK government’s English Private Landlord Survey of 2024.

My concern here is with small landlords, not property tycoons: ordinary families who own one flat, a former home, or a few modest properties built up over a lifetime. Many know their tenants personally. Some keep good tenants on below market rents because trust and stability matter more than maximum return. Some show patience when a long-standing tenant has difficulty paying. This quiet goodwill rarely appears in political speeches.

The new act has the potential to destroy this informal human space. When every tenancy feels like a legal trap, landlords may select only the safest applicants, increase rents where they can, or just sell up, reducing homes available to future tenants.

Unfortunately the subject is riddled with misleading politically motivated slogans.

“No fault eviction”, referring to the previous assured shorthold system, suggests that a landlord asking for a property back after a mutually agreed period has done something morally reprehensible. But a fixed term tenancy was just that, not a promise of permanent occupation. At the end, either side could reassess its position. The tenant might leave. The landlord might continue, sell, house a family member, or just recover control.

A landlord may now lose the ability to plan the future use of their own property. A family may want to let a flat for two years before a son or daughter needs it. A couple may rent out their home while working abroad, expecting to return on a fixed date. Under the new system, an ordinary private tenancy can no longer be created with a binding end date. Recovery later may require notice, evidence and lengthy, expensive court proceedings.

Similarly, “bidding wars” makes ordinary market behaviour sound sinister. House buyers, antique buyers and even market shoppers may offer more when something is especially valuable to them. Yet in renting, this is presented as improper and exploitative.

The government also uses “market rent” loosely. If a property is advertised and a tenant agrees to pay the proposed rent, that is already an open market outcome. Yet the tenant can challenge that rent during the first six months of the tenancy and ask the First-tier Tribunal to determine the “open market rent”. In effect, the state can disregard the rent the open market actually produced and replace it with its own assessment.

There are yet more complications. If a landlord dies, the tenancy does not simply end. The heirs may inherit the property, the tenant and the obligations of landlordship. They may seek possession through the courts if they need to sell or move in, but they do not automatically receive an empty property.

That tenants need safe homes, fair treatment and protection from arbitrary eviction is not in question. Bad landlords exist, and the law should deal firmly with them. But small landlords also have rights. They are not public housing authorities. They are private citizens who own property, pay tax on rental income, carry risk and not infrequently absorb losses.

Whereas large landlords can spread the costs of one bad tenancy across a portfolio, small landlords are least able to absorb disaster. A pensioner letting one flat cannot. One tenant who stops paying rent, one long possession case, one damaged property or one compliance mistake can wipe out years of income.

The penalty regime also adds to the anxiety, with civil penalties of up to £7,000 for initial breaches, up to £40,000 for continuing or repeated breaches, possible rent repayment orders, and a new landlord database that some will see as a Big Brother register rather than a simple transparency tool.

Landlords can buy rent guarantee insurance. But insurance costs money, covers only certain risks, and usually requires strict referencing, including credit, income, affordability and landlord checks. If a tenant cannot satisfy the insurer, landlords may favour the safest applicants rather than the most vulnerable.

Research by the National Residential Landlords Association found that 38 per cent of single property landlords were either “highly unlikely” or “unlikely” to remain in the sector by the end of 2026 and among landlords with more than one property, the figure was 21 per cent.

Sir James Cleverly, the Conservative shadow housing secretary, said in April that he had received notice to quit the home he rented because his landlord was selling. He said: “And now good landlords are selling up and leaving the market, renters face fewer options and higher rates.”

We have been here before. The Rent Act 1977 protected sitting tenants through regulated tenancies and “fair rents” but weakened landlord confidence. From 1988, legislation reversed course, making assured shorthold tenancies the normal form of private letting for nearly four decades.

The lesson is simple: a rental system that protects sitting tenants while frightening away landlords eventually harms future tenants. The act may therefore create a divide between protected sitting tenants and excluded future tenants. Those already housed may gain security, while those still searching may face fewer properties, tougher checks, higher rents, longer council housing queues and, in some cases, never get through the front door at all.

Few landlords relish spending time and money in tribunals and courts, even if they eventually succeed. Many small landlords, including Cypriots I have spoken to, are worried. I, for one, have sold two previously rented properties in three years, mainly as a consequence of the proposed legislative framework.  

This article is commentary, not legal advice. Readers should seek professional advice on their own circumstances.