Junts per Catalunya blocked urgent housing decrees meant to stop evictions and cool rents. Now, even its own supporters are struggling to find homes. Puigdemont returns to a Catalonia where the housing crisis is no longer just politics—it's daily life for his base.
Barcelona’s housing crisis has reached a breaking point. Junts per Catalunya’s decision to vote down two emergency housing decrees sent shockwaves through its own ranks. The party’s supporters, already squeezed by rising rents, felt abandoned. This time, the fallout landed close to home.
Carles Puigdemont is coming back from nine years in Belgium. He plans to tour Catalonia, hoping to reconnect with voters. Loyalist towns may greet him with cheers. Elsewhere, the mood is colder. The real test will be in front of Catalans who have watched their paychecks shrink and their right to a home slip away. Many of them once backed Junts. Now, they face the same housing crisis as everyone else.
According to Reuters, Junts threatened to vote against the housing decrees unless the government withdrew and redrafted them, citing concerns that the measures could reduce the supply of available housing.
The numbers are blunt. The Generalitat’s 2025 survey shows 91% of Catalans say finding a decent home is hard or very hard. Among Junts voters, 88% say it’s nearly impossible. The pain is everywhere. Even Junts’ own base can’t escape it.
Who gets the blame? Over half of Junts sympathizers—54%—point to people profiting from housing. Another 56% blame tourist apartments for pushing up prices. Only 37% fault wealthy foreigners. The frustration is clear. It’s aimed at those making money off the crisis.
Last night, chants of "shame" echoed through Plaça de Catalunya. These weren’t just political opponents. Many were Junts supporters. They see party leaders siding with real estate interests. Ordinary voters are left exposed. The anger is real.
As reported by EFE and Reuters, the most controversial part of the rejected decrees was the automatic extension of rental contracts and the requirement for landlords to justify non-renewal, which drew strong opposition from property owners and market lobbyists. Junts argued that such measures, if applied broadly, could discourage private landlords and shrink the overall housing supply, and instead pushed for a version targeting large investment funds and offering tax incentives to small owners.
Catalonia stands alone in Spain. It’s the only region fully applying the national housing law. Many of the rejected measures are already in place here. The world hasn’t ended. Investment funds are leaving as profits fall. Rent caps are holding prices steady. Tenant contracts are more secure. The old incentives for landlords to churn tenants are fading. The system isn’t perfect, but it’s more stable now.
Junts seems to be betting that blocking Sánchez’s government could force early elections or slow the rise of the far-right Aliança Catalana. But in chasing political advantage, the party has lost touch with its own voters. As reported earlier, the housing crisis is not just a policy debate. It’s a daily fight for millions—including Junts’ base.
What’s left is a party tangled in political games and economic deals. Its own supporters are stranded. The numbers, the street anger, and the daily struggles all point to one thing. Junts has put strategy before substance. In Catalonia, where the right to a home is slipping away, politics offers little comfort. Many feel left behind.
