As Vancouver densifies to tackle housing shortages, is it unintentionally displacing the very communities that give the city its character? A deeper look at how rezoning, redevelopment, and rising land values could be eroding cultural and economic diversity.
Walk through Mount Pleasant, Commercial Drive, or even parts of East Vancouver today, and it’s impossible not to notice the transformation. Where character homes and mid-century walk-ups once stood, sleek townhouses, four-storey condos, and “gentle density” infill projects are rising. On the surface, this is exactly what the city needs—more homes, more options, and more efficient land use. But beneath the surface lies a question few want to ask out loud: Are we gentrifying ourselves out of the very communities that made these neighborhoods desirable in the first place?
Urban densification is often framed as the rational answer to a housing crisis, and in many ways, it is. We cannot keep building outwards forever. The region’s geography—hemmed in by mountains, ocean, and farmland—makes sprawl unsustainable. But the way densification is playing out on the ground is more complex. Redevelopment often starts with good intentions, but it can quickly evolve into a slow-motion erasure of working-class residents, immigrant communities, artists, and small businesses.
Part of the issue is how rezoning and new density allowances affect land values. As soon as a single-family lot is upzoned to allow for multiplexes, townhouse rows, or six-storey rentals, its value shoots up—not based on the building that’s there today, but on the potential of what could be built. That speculative premium ripples through the neighborhood, pushing out long-term tenants, small landlords, and mom-and-pop shops who can no longer afford the rising rents. Developers, needing to justify high land acquisition costs, are incentivized to build for the upper-middle class and above. The result? Homes may be added, but affordability is not.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in the “missing middle” movement—a concept embraced by planners and politicians as a way to introduce gentle, people-friendly density. But in Vancouver, even this middle ground often ends up priced out of reach for the very demographic it was intended to help. A newly built 1,000-square-foot townhouse in East Van may be more affordable than a detached house, but at $1.2 million, it’s hardly a realistic option for a young family earning local incomes.
Meanwhile, the cultural makeup of these neighborhoods is shifting. Longstanding communities—Punjabi, Filipino, Chinese, Indigenous—are being dispersed. What was once a mosaic of lived experiences is being replaced by a more homogeneous urbanism: cafes with minimalist interiors, yoga studios, and dog-washing stations in strata buildings. It’s not that these things are inherently bad—they reflect the tastes of many residents—but they raise the question of what gets lost when change isn’t inclusive or balanced.
This isn’t just a social issue—it’s an economic one. Diverse communities create resilient neighborhoods. They support a broader range of services, sustain non-mainstream businesses, and contribute to a vibrant urban culture that attracts tourism, investment, and creative industries. In our rush to add units and hit supply targets, we may be sacrificing long-term social capital for short-term density metrics.
The irony is that many of the same people pushing for inclusive housing policy are also participating in this transformation. Young professionals and progressive urbanists advocate for densification—and rightfully so—but often end up buying into the very projects that accelerate displacement. The result is a strange form of “progressive gentrification,” where intentions are good but the outcomes look very familiar: wealthier residents moving in, lower-income residents moving out.
And this is where policy needs to catch up. Adding density is not enough if it’s not paired with affordability requirements, rental protections, co-op incentives, and preservation of cultural assets. Cities like Vienna, Barcelona, and Tokyo offer lessons in how to grow without hollowing out. Vancouver is still grappling with how to scale that kind of inclusive growth model. Right now, our default approach is market-driven densification with light-touch policy guardrails—and the results are telling.
There’s still time to course-correct. As Vancouver rolls out new multiplex zoning and fast-tracks approvals for mid-rise developments near transit corridors, the city should also be asking: who are we building for? Are we planning for economic inclusion or economic sorting? Are we designing spaces that reflect cultural diversity or erasing it in the name of efficiency?
At the heart of this debate is a contradiction: we need more housing, but we also need to protect the fabric of community. It’s possible to do both, but it requires intention, not just ideology. Otherwise, we risk creating beautiful neighborhoods that feel hollow—urban villages full of housing but empty of the people and culture that made them vibrant to begin with.
So yes, build more. Densify smartly. Reimagine the city for the next generation. But let’s not pretend that adding a few more townhouses automatically solves the deeper issues of displacement, cultural loss, and affordability. If we don’t name the shadow side of densification, we can’t fix it. And if we don’t fix it, we may wake up one day to find that the Vancouver we loved no longer lives here.
