Spain has flirted with the politics of blaming outsiders and second-home buyers for the housing crisis, but so far it has mostly remained political theatre. In France and Britain, by contrast, second-home owners are being hit with higher taxes.

French paper Le Figaro recently ran an article reporting that second homes in France are being “attacked from all sides”, making the dream of buying a holiday home increasingly difficult. The point was not that nobody wants a second home any more. Quite the opposite. The dream survives. What has changed is the political and fiscal climate around it.

In France, many municipalities can now pile extra tax onto second homes, with surcharges of up to 60% in areas deemed to have housing pressure. In Britain, the mood is even less subtle. Councils in England can now double council tax on second homes, while Welsh councils can go much further, with premiums of up to 300% in some cases. The message to owners is clear enough: you may still buy a second home, but do not expect to be thanked for it.

Spain talks tough, then does very little

Spain has had its own burst of anti-foreign-buyer rhetoric. Pedro Sánchez announced a plan to impose a tax of up to 100% on purchases by non-EU, non-resident buyers, a measure that made headlines around the world and alarmed many British and American buyers. But the proposal has since stalled in Parliament and has not changed the rules on the ground.

The same pattern can be seen in the regions. In the Balearics and Canaries, there has been plenty of talk about restricting purchases by non-residents, especially in the islands where housing pressure is most politically sensitive. But talk is still the operative word. Proposals to restrict non-resident buyers in the Balearics have gone nowhere, while the Canary Islands’ ambitions would face serious legal and EU-level obstacles before becoming reality.

So, for now, Spain remains open for business. Foreign buyers still account for a sizeable share of the market, especially in coastal provinces and islands. Registry figures for 2025 put foreign buyers at roughly 14% of all Spanish property purchases, hardly a sign of a closed market.

Still welcome, but not guaranteed forever

This does not mean Spain is immune to anti-second-home politics. Housing affordability is a real problem, and foreign buyers make an easy target because they are visible, affluent, and mostly unable to vote. That makes them politically convenient, even when they are not the root cause of the problem.

But compared with France and Britain, Spain remains relatively welcoming to international second-home buyers. The rhetoric is there, but the punitive measures are not — at least not yet.

Buyers should not ignore the political mood, especially in high-pressure areas like the Balearics, Canaries, Málaga, Alicante and Barcelona. But nor should they assume Spain has turned hostile. For the time being, Spain still looks more hospitable than many rival jurisdictions. In today’s Europe, that is not nothing.

Spain has a housing crisis, so naturally some politicians have decided the answer is to make housing investment more confusing, less attractive, and morally suspect. Catalonia has turned this into something of an art form.

The legal battle over who qualifies as a “major landowner” in Spain has become one of the great absurdities of the rental market. Under the state Housing Law, the general threshold is more than ten residential properties, though this can fall to five in stressed housing markets. In Catalonia, where housing policy often appears to be written with a clenched fist, the concept has been pushed even further into farce.

In practice, depending on the rule, the authority, and the phase of the moon, someone with interests in five modest properties can be treated as a “gran tenedor” — a major landowner — with all the stigma, obligations, restrictions, fiscal punishment and reduced property rights that now come attached to the label.

This is where the policy becomes ridiculous. A person with four properties worth €10 million can remain an ordinary citizen. Someone else with minority interests in five modest homes worth a fraction of that can find themselves bundled into the same category as large landlords and investment funds. Not so much robber baron as unlucky aunt with inherited shares in flats in a family-owned building.

A policy built on suspicion

The phrase “major landowner” sounds as if it was designed to conjure up cigar-chomping speculators hoarding homes from the poor. In reality, the net can catch private individuals, families, accidental landlords, small investors and heirs who have done nothing more sinister than own, inherit, or invest in property.

Catalonia has also doubled down fiscally. Recent measures have raised the transfer tax burden on major landlords to 20% in certain cases, while rent controls, registration requirements, extended contract obligations and other interventions pile up around the same concept. The message is not subtle: own too much property — however that is defined this week — and the state will treat you as part of the problem.

Lawyers now warn that the state and Catalan definitions do not align, while questions over co-ownership, company holdings, cadastral records, land registry data and surface area create a fog of uncertainty. When professionals struggle to explain the rules, ordinary owners can hardly be expected to navigate them with confidence.

Less investment, less housing

This might be tolerable if the policy produced more homes. But Spain’s housing crisis is, above all, a shortage crisis. The country needs more rental supply, more renovation, more professional management, more private capital and more confidence. Public authorities do not have the money, speed, competence or land pipeline to replace the investment they are busy discouraging.

Instead, the system tells owners that putting homes on the rental market may mean longer contracts, tighter rent limits, more bureaucracy, higher tax, less control and greater political hostility. Then everyone acts surprised when supply falls, investment cools, and owners look for ways out of the long-term rental market.

The great irony is that policies aimed at punishing “major landowners” often hit the very people needed to increase supply: small and medium-sized investors willing to buy, renovate and rent homes. Treating them as villains may satisfy the politics of resentment, but it does not house anyone.