Anne is 23, recently graduated, and works full-time; on paper, she is doing everything “right.” Despite this, she still lives in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. Not out of luxury, but due to a lack of alternatives. “I have been on the waiting list for years and apply for everything available, but I keep getting the same answer: ‘Unfortunately, you were not selected’,” she says. To her, the housing shortage does not feel like an abstract political problem, but as something that literally brings her life to a standstill. No place of her own, no peace, no real start.
Houses where no one gardens anymore.
What frustrates Anne most is that during her search she keeps seeing the same images: large, detached houses with four bedrooms, inhabited by one or two elderly people. “I begrudge no one the comfort of a home of their own,” she says, “but it feels wrong that families have no space and first-time buyers are stuck in the housing market, while entire houses are barely used.” According to Anne, it is not about blame, but about efficiency. The housing supply is barely growing, while the distribution is becoming increasingly unequal.
Entering into a commitment sounds strict, but doing nothing is much stricter.
Anne knows that her statement sounds harsh. The idea of forcing people to move immediately to a smaller home meets with resistance. Nevertheless, she finds it important to discuss this. “We act as if moving must always be a free choice, whereas housing has become a scarce commodity.” She compares it to other collective systems. “We also accept rules regarding healthcare, pensions, and transport – why is housing suddenly sacred?” According to her, solidarity sometimes also means creating space for the next generation.
