The purpose of zoning is what it does
A system designed for order ended up shredding the economic and social fabric of American communities.
In 1999, a shipment of 440 live squirrels arrived at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. The cargo lacked the proper paperwork required by Dutch regulations, so airline officials followed the procedures established by the health department for live animal imports: hand-feed the animals one by one into an industrial meat shredder.
This notorious escapade has been shared in quite a few essays and books about corporate and organizational management because it’s such a memorable example of British thinker Stafford Beer’s phrase: “The purpose of a system is what it does.” Or, in shorthand, POSIWID. The gist is that we shouldn’t judge a system’s purpose by the intentions of its designers or operators, but by its actual results. No single person is held accountable and the rules roll on.
For over a century, zoning has been the backbone of American city planning, ostensibly designed to create orderly, safe, and efficient communities by separating incompatible land uses—like keeping factories away from homes and schools. Zoning laws emerged in the early 20th century as a response to the chaos of rapid industrialization. The first comprehensive zoning ordinance in the U.S. was New York’s 1916 code, which aimed to prevent skyscrapers from blotting out sunlight and to curb the “blight” of mixed-use neighborhoods.
On paper, it’s a rational framework: residential zones for quiet living, commercial zones for business, industrial zones for manufacturing. But if you agree that the purpose of a system is what it does, you’ve got to consider what zoning does:
Housing scarcity and soaring housing expenses.
Severely limited property rights.
Car dependency (not to be confused with car use).
A lack of walkability in everyday life.
Accelerated environmental degradation through sprawl.
Long-term municipal insolvency and crumbling infrastructure.
The “Growth Ponzi Scheme” of new development paying for old debt.
Negative ROI land use that drains local government coffers.
Stifled incrementalism that prevents neighborhoods from evolving.
Deepening economic segregation by design.
Social isolation caused by a lack of communal “third places.”
The visual monotony of a cookie-cutter landscape that impacts humans in psychological ways that we’re only recently starting to understand.
Across the country, local zoning codes operate with blind, mechanical efficiency.
“When you build a system, you are always building a model of the world, and if something happens which doesn’t fit into your model in the world, your system might do something awful.”
—Dan Davies, The Unaccountability Machine
For over 100 years, well-meaning residents hold to the promise that the strict land use regulations as we know them will protect property values and “neighborhood character.” Even if those things happen, the many other outcomes can’t be ignored. We’re desperately missing conversations and debates about trade-offs.
Without serious reforms, the POSIWID story of zoning deserves to remain in the same category as the Dutch health department’s meat grinder.
What weve lost is our collective creativity. Imagine a world where you could invest a portion of your 401k to an incremental developer in your neighborhood. You would want a return on your money but you'd also sit in on the board meetings and have some input into what your community looked like.
This is great summary Andy. Zoning created car centrism and all the associated negative effects.
State reforms so desperately needed.
I’d also recommend the book The Color of Law.