EDINBURGH used to be renowned for its neighbourliness. In the distant past we liked to boast that tenements in the Old Town housed rich and poor together, judges and lords on the best floors, hoi polloi below and above.

We took pride in this cheek-by-jowl camaraderie, believing it an early form of egalitarianism. All an illusion, of course, since as soon as the New Town’s foundations were laid, the well-heeled sprinted across the great divide of the Nor’ Loch to the cleaner air and immensely grander premises of Charlotte Square and environs.

In our own times, the friendliness of the capital’s communal tenements is also becoming something of a myth. With a rising number of flats rented out to students, buying or renting a property within easy reach of university or college is a lottery. Fellow inhabitants might be long-term residents, keen to keep the building in good order. Or they might be one of the monstrous regiment of term-time boarders. In certain areas, such as the once enviable Meadows, the odds of having students renting on the stair is exceedingly high. Not all of them are noisy or careless, of course, nor should one demonise them all because of their taste in music, or antisocial hours.

Those I would castigate without a moment’s pang, however, are the opportunists who buy a property specifically to let it out on Airbnb. And home owners who, to earn a quick buck from passing tourists, decamp constantly from their own flats like wooden figures popping in and out of a weather house. While I have sympathy with students, I have almost none for landlords who tout their desirable central pads to city break visitors or hen parties. I am, thus, wholly with the Greens who are urging Nicola Sturgeon to curb Airbnb in the capital, citing the deleterious effect on the property market as well as on residents. As the Greens claim and all who live here, or in St Andrews, or Glasgow and their like are abundantly aware, the ceaseless traffic of casual and short-term renters not only distorts the housing sector, but seriously threatens the well-being of the place.

READ MORE: Airbnb ban on Edinburgh landlords after three months

Most obviously, a sense of community evaporates when you don’t know who is living near you. Add to that the feeling of uncertainty about what sort of people will be moving in next door come the weekend. Much is made of the noise of stag parties or rugby fans who return late after drinking, or those who throw a party knowing they’ll be on a plane out the following day. But the biggest problem is not occasional rowdiness, bad though that can feel at three in the morning. The gravest aspect, for locals, is that what should feel like home can start to resemble a station concourse, crowds rushing every which way, the scrape of their wheelie bags signalling arrivals and departures. One friend confessed he was in tears when the flat above him in Leith was turned into an Airbnb let. The sound of the wooden boards overhead, and suitcases on the stairs at all hours, ground him down until, eventually, he had to sell.

You can’t blame the lodgers, of course. They are only taking advantage of what is on offer. And at first, the concept was appealing: a simple, friendly way of finding somewhere cheap and comfy to stay. It echoed the bohemian idea of Jim Haynes who, in the 1960s, set up an informal network of friends in different countries and cities who would offer a free bed for the night, allowing the cash-strapped, or the merely adventurous, a pleasant way of seeing the world. That original, easy-going notion is now long gone, as Airbnb has grown bigger and uglier.

The real issue is unscrupulous or thoughtless landlords. Unlike hotels, guest houses or B&Bs, their property is unregulated, with no need to conform to rigorous health and safety rules imposed on the mainstream trade. Nor do rental owners necessarily declare all of their income, a cash-in-hand economy flourishing beyond sight of HMRC. As a result, the most entrepreneurial – honest or not – are effectively running boutique hotels at a fraction of official hoteliers’ costs.

READ MORE: Airbnb ban on Edinburgh landlords after three months

It is the fly-by-night nature of Airbnb that makes it so corrosive. In essence it is a business built on unknowns. When a street or a tenement turns into a carousel of visitors coming only to see, spend and sleep, its spirit is eroded or lost. So too are peace of mind, pride and security. Too often, apartments are being snapped up not as forever homes, ensuring the ongoing vibrancy of the city, but as a milch cow that will keep on giving. As ordinary buyers are priced out by opportunists, the capital is in danger of becoming a short-let paradise and a long-term limbo. It might be heaven for those watching their ballooning bank balances, but it is miserable if not downright hellish for ordinary residents. Without government intervention, their only recourse will be to leave. With them goes another piece of the heart of Midlothian.