The tenant is around £15,000 in arrears and refusing to leave
England's most sweeping rental reform in a generation takes effect on May 1st, 2026, banning no-fault evictions and capping rent increases in a private housing market long tilted toward landlords. The Renters' Rights Act arrives not as a clean resolution but as a reckoning — one that forces a society to ask who bears the cost of a broken housing system and whether legal protection can outpace the courts meant to enforce it. Behind the legislation are two kinds of vulnerability: tenants displaced by arbitrary notices and unaffordable rents, and small landlords trapped in a judicial backlog that can stretch nearly a year. The law changes the rules, but the deeper contest — over scarcity, fairness, and who absorbs the risk of housing insecurity — remains very much open.
- A wave of pre-emptive Section 21 evictions is already underway, with landlords rushing to remove tenants before the new law closes that legal door — cases rose from 22% to 31% of tenant union workloads in just over a year.
- Tenants describe lives defined by repeated displacement and rents consuming 70% of their income, while the incoming law promises the first meaningful security many have ever known in the private rental market.
- Landlords — particularly small and accidental ones — warn that court delays already stretching 26 weeks, combined with mandatory hearings for contested evictions, will trap them in financial losses exceeding £12,000 a year per property.
- The government is recruiting up to 1,000 judges to absorb the anticipated surge in cases, but critics question whether institutional capacity can be built fast enough to prevent the reforms from collapsing under their own weight.
- The law now makes it illegal to discriminate against families with children or benefit recipients, yet landlords signal they will become more selective — raising the prospect that protection on paper may not translate to access in practice.
Rongmala is fifty-seven, disabled, and never intended to be a landlord. When she could no longer live alone, she moved in with her children and rented out her south London home. When her tenant stopped paying, the arrears climbed to £15,000. A court eventually granted her possession, but bailiff enforcement could take up to eleven months. In the meantime, she has spent £2,500 she doesn't have on repairs and charges, lost her rental income, and fallen into depression. Her son Marouf describes the toll as heartbreaking.
Her story lands at a precise moment. On May 1st, England's Renters' Rights Act comes into force — the most significant overhaul of the private rental sector in a generation. The law bans no-fault evictions, limits rent increases, and replaces the current Section 21 system — under which a landlord could remove a tenant with eight weeks' notice and no stated reason — with a framework requiring specific legal grounds. For renters who have moved repeatedly and paid the majority of their salaries in rent, the change is long overdue. Clara Collingwood of The Renters Reform Coalition says it will make a genuine difference.
Landlords are less certain. The median wait between filing a claim and repossessing a property has grown from sixteen weeks a decade ago to twenty-six weeks today. Under the new law, any contested eviction will require a court hearing, and the National Residential Landlords' Association warns this will deepen an already severe backlog. Average annual rent losses nationally exceed £12,000 per property; in London, they surpass £19,000. Landlords have been leaving the market for years, and the pace has accelerated sharply. Landlord Action and the tenants' union Acorn both document a surge in Section 21 notices filed before the law takes effect.
Not all landlords oppose the reforms. Rick Gannon, who owns seventy properties, believes the new rules will make the market fairer and remove bad actors. The government, for its part, is recruiting up to one thousand judges and tribunal members to ease court pressure, and says the reforms will reduce that pressure over time.
Rongmala and her son do not oppose tenant protections — they say they don't want tenants to struggle. But they argue that small and accidental landlords face genuine hardship too, and that the system should not make their situation worse. The new law attempts to rebalance power in a market defined by scarcity and inequality, but it does so against a backdrop of court delays that predate it and a housing shortage that leaves everyone exposed. What unfolds on May 1st will test whether the system can absorb the change without fracturing.
Rongmala is fifty-seven years old and disabled. When she could no longer live alone, she moved in with her children and rented out her south London maisonette—a practical decision that made her, in her own words, an "accidental" landlord. Last year, her tenant stopped paying rent. By the time she sent an eviction notice and began court proceedings, the arrears had climbed to £15,000. The tenant refused to leave. Months passed. A judge eventually awarded her a court order for possession, but only court-appointed bailiffs can physically remove a tenant, and the family was told to expect a wait of up to eleven months. In the meantime, Rongmala has paid £2,500 for boiler repairs, service charges, and her mortgage—money she doesn't have. The lost rental income has triggered depression. Her son Marouf watches his mother navigate a system he describes as clogged and feels helpless to fix it. He calls the toll on her "heartbreaking."
Rongmala's story arrives at a precise moment. On May 1st, England's new Renters' Rights Act comes into force—the most significant overhaul of the private rental sector in a generation. The law bans no-fault evictions, limits rent increases, and gives tenants far more security than they have had. For renters, the change is long overdue. Young professionals at a recent London protest described moving dozens of times and paying seventy percent of their salaries in rent. Fran Brown, fifty-eight, has relocated five times since 2017 and faces another increase; she feels trapped by the landlord's power to change his mind. James received an eviction notice in late February and now faces the prospect of uprooting his wife and two children from a home they have spent ten years building. Under the current system, a landlord can evict almost anyone using a Section 21 notice—no reason required, just eight weeks' notice. The new law will restrict evictions to specific grounds: the landlord wants to move back in, the tenant has engaged in anti-social behavior, or rent arrears have persisted. Clara Collingwood, interim director of The Renters Reform Coalition, said the change would make a "huge difference."
But landlords are alarmed. They worry the new system will make it harder to remove problematic tenants and that court delays—already severe—will worsen. According to the Ministry of Justice, private landlords currently wait a median of twenty-six weeks between filing a claim and repossessing a property. A decade ago, that figure was sixteen weeks. The National Residential Landlords' Association reports that the average rent loss per property nationally exceeds £12,000 annually, and in London it surpasses £19,000. Under the current rules, Section 21 evictions are a paper-based administrative process. Under the new law, if a tenant contests an eviction, there must be a court hearing. Chris Norris, policy director of the National Residential Landlords' Association, sees this as a recipe for further delays.
Keith Taylor, a former engineer who rents three properties, is convinced the Act will make his life much harder. He has dealt with tenants who left around £8,000 in damage and believes the combination of new tax rules and "ever-increasing regulation" will push more landlords to sell. Greg Tsuman, director at Martyn Gerrard estate agents in London, confirms that landlords have been exiting the market for a decade, but the pace has accelerated sharply over the past year. Landlord Action and the tenants' union Acorn have both documented a surge in Section 21 evictions as landlords rush to remove tenants before the new law takes effect. In 2024, Section 21 cases made up twenty-two percent of Acorn's work with tenants; by early 2026, that figure had risen to thirty-one percent. Norris does not expect a wholesale exodus from the market, but he predicts landlords will become more selective about whom they rent to—a concern given that the Act makes it illegal to discriminate against families with children or people on benefits.
Not every landlord opposes the reforms. Rick Gannon, who owns seventy properties worth more than £10 million, believes the new laws will make the market fairer and "weed out bad landlords." He calls it "the biggest change we've seen in this industry for many, many years" and says most of it is for the better. The government has acknowledged the court pressure and says the reforms will "reduce pressure on the courts in the long-term." To support the system now, it is recruiting up to one thousand judges and tribunal members across all courts and tribunals this year. A government spokesperson emphasized that the Act would give tenants "much needed and long overdue" security in their homes.
Rongmala and her son do not oppose tenant protections. They say they "don't want tenants to have to struggle." But they argue that small landlords and accidental landlords like Rongmala "are facing issues as well" and that the government should be helping, not making things harder. The tension is real: renters need protection from arbitrary displacement and predatory rent increases, yet landlords—especially those with one or two properties—face genuine financial hardship when tenants stop paying and courts move slowly. The new law attempts to rebalance power in the rental market, but it does so against a backdrop of court delays that predate the legislation and a housing shortage that leaves both tenants and landlords vulnerable. What happens on May 1st will test whether the system can absorb the change without breaking.
Notable Quotes
The toll it is taking on my mum is heartbreaking—she's helpless navigating a clogged-up court system— Marouf, Rongmala's son
The biggest change we've seen in this industry for many, many years and I think most of it is for the better— Rick Gannon, landlord with 70 properties
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does Rongmala's case matter so much right now? It's one eviction among thousands.
Because it sits at the exact fault line. She's not a corporate landlord—she's disabled, she needed the rental income to survive, and the court system has left her stranded. The new law is about protecting people like James, who got a terrifying eviction notice. But it doesn't address what happens to people like Rongmala when the system itself is broken.
The government says it's recruiting a thousand judges. Isn't that enough?
Maybe eventually. But those judges don't exist yet, and the backlog is already twenty-six weeks. The law changes the rules—now every contested eviction requires a hearing instead of paperwork. That's more court time, not less, at least in the short term.
So landlords are right to be worried?
Some are. Keith Taylor has legitimate concerns about damage and lost income. But others are using the law as an excuse to exit the market because regulation itself bothers them. Rick Gannon, who owns seventy properties, thinks the law is fair. It depends on who you are and what you're actually doing.
What about the renters who are moving dozens of times?
They're the reason the law exists. Seventy percent of salary going to rent, no security, evicted on eight weeks' notice for no reason. The current system is brutal for them. The question is whether the new system can protect them without collapsing under its own weight.
Is there a way both sides win?
Not really, not yet. You'd need courts that actually work—fast enough to protect tenants but fair enough to handle legitimate landlord claims. Right now you have neither. The law is trying to solve a fairness problem with a system that's already broken.