Topic: Uso de suelo y zonificación

April 26, 2026

By Anthony Flint, April 26, 2026

The Lincoln Institute’s Mayor’s Desk series has featured municipal leaders from a wide range of metropolitan regions all over the world, but the latest installment may well be the most farflung: Fairbanks, Alaska, a city of about 30,000 people adjacent to Russia and the North Pole that was awarded the title of coldest city in America, having set a record low of minus 66 degrees Fahrenheit. Not counting any wind chill.

The place is “a land of extremes,” says Mayor Mindy O’Neall, who has had to manage a range of issues, from affordable housing to climate change, that land differently at the gateway to the Arctic. It’s a good thing, she observes, that living there brings out a special kind of resilience.

“At the heart of it is the people … who have grit and determination,” said O’Neall, the latest chief executive to be interviewed in the Mayor’s Desk series, recorded for the Land Matters podcast. The swing from frigid cold to surprisingly hot summers, and from deep darkness to strong sunlight, fosters a mindset of both abundance and scarcity. “We’re at the end of the line, we have three to four days of food security at any given time.”

O’Neall, 44, unseated an incumbent last year to become the city’s 53rd mayor. She campaigned on themes including downtown revitalization, affordable housing, and public safety, and has pursued strategies to promote generational wealth through homeownership and leverage government-owned land for affordable housing.

“Building homes and housing has been the game or the business of large, wealthy developers. And in our community, we just can’t really afford that. We don’t have enough folks for a large developer to make money here,” she said. “When we start to rethink about who’s investing in our own community and who can invest, then we start to, I think, build out that wealth, better.”

The freeze-and-thaw dynamics that have become more careening in a rapidly changing climate have also been a challenge, as the region must attempt to manage extreme occurrences ranging from floods to wildfires.

“They often call the Arctic the canary in the coal mine, because we start to see the issues of climate change far beyond and far before the lower 48 or other parts of the world. The Arctic has been saying that something’s happening in our environment for quite some time,” O’Neall said.

“I don’t think that there’s really much we can do about this now. It’s happening. We’re in a cycle of climatic disruption, for sure. But we can plan for extreme events, so we know what we’re going to do when the power goes out and it’s negative 30 degrees. We know what’s going to happen when our river floods in the middle of our town, and we’ve lost access to the hospital.

“We’re seeing less and less investment from the federal government,” she said. “So as Alaskans, it’s time for us to think really hard about how we want to protect… our assets. And that comes back to the values that we hold as a community.”

O’Neall grew up in Iowa and drove a stick-shift pickup truck up north, first working as an aide in the Alaska Legislature, then at the Fairbanks Economic Development Corporation and the Interior Gas Utility, and also founded Blue Canoe Media, a boutique communications and consulting firm. She holds a BA in Event Planning and Business Communication from Iowa State University and an MA in Professional Communications from the University of Alaska Fairbanks, where her research focused on governance and climate impacts on rural Alaska, including the relocation of Native communities.

Prior to her election as mayor, she served on the Fairbanks North Star Borough Assembly and was executive director of the Cold Climate Housing Research Center, and also serves on the boards of the Alaska State Homebuilders Association and Alaska Municipal League.

Aerial View of the Fairbanks, Alaska Skyline during Summer
Downtown Fairbanks, Alaska. Credit: Jacob Boomsma via iStock/Getty Images Plus.

 

She lives in downtown Fairbanks with her dog, Tito, who she pointed out is the true official dog of Alaska—the mutt. O’Neall visited Cambridge recently as part of the Just City Mayoral Fellowship at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design, now in partnership with the Bloomberg Center for Cities.

An edited version of this Mayor’s Desk interview will appear online and in print in Land Lines magazine. The first 20 of these Q&As were compiled in the book Mayor’s Desk: 20 Conversations with Local Leaders Solving Global Problems, which includes a foreword by Michael Bloomberg.

Listen to the show here or subscribe to Land Matters on Apple Podcasts, SpotifyYouTube, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

 


Further Reading

Fairbanks Passes 2026 City Budget, Adds Positions | KTUU/KTVF

Climate Hazards Cost Fairbanks, Anchorage Homeowners Millions | University of Alaska News

Energy Crisis Faces Fairbanks as Well as Anchorage | Reporting from Alaska

  


Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines. 


Transcript

[00:00:05] Anthony Flint: Welcome to Episode 3 of Season 7 of the Land Matters podcast. I’m your host, Anthony Flint. In our Mayor’s Desk series here at the Lincoln Institute, we interview municipal chief executives from around the world. Our latest conversation brings us all the way to Fairbanks, Alaska, a city of about 30,000 people, way up north near Russia, the gateway to the Arctic as it’s known, the second largest city in the state after Anchorage, and a metropolis that has been awarded the title of coldest city in America, having set a record low of minus 66 degrees Fahrenheit.

We’re talking with 44-year-old Mindy O’Neall, who recently replaced an incumbent and campaigned on themes including downtown revitalization, affordable housing, and public safety. She grew up in Iowa and drove a stick shift pickup truck up north, first working as an aide in the Alaska State Legislature, then the Fairbanks Economic Development Corporation and the Interior Gas Utility, and also founded Blue Canoe Media, a boutique communications and consulting firm.

She holds a BA in event planning and business communication from Iowa State University and an MA in professional communications from the University of Alaska Fairbanks, where her research focused on governance and climate impacts on rural Alaska, including the relocation of Native communities. Prior to her election as mayor, she served on the Fairbanks North Star Borough Assembly and was executive director of the Cold Climate Housing Research Center, and also serves on the boards of the Alaska State Homebuilders Association and Alaska Municipal League.

She lives in downtown Fairbanks with her dog, Tito, who, as she pointed out, is the true official dog of Alaska, the mutt. I first met her at a program for mayors at Harvard and followed up with this interview.

For the uninitiated, including those of us in the lower 48, what kind of place is Fairbanks, and why did you want to be mayor?

[00:02:22] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: Well, thanks, Anthony, and thanks for inviting me onto the show. I get this question a lot, especially for the uninitiated, as you said. That’s cute. You’re right. Fairbanks really is an exotic place. I would say we’re the land of extremes. We are extremely cold in the winter. We’re extremely warm in the summer. Some people may be surprised to learn that we can get up to 90 to 100 degrees in the summer. The force of the sun, the feeling of the sun, is so direct that it is just something you have to experience. We have exotic animals, grizzly bears, and polar bears. We have extreme industry like mining and gas and oil development. We are definitely a place of extremes.

At the heart of it is the people. It’s these people who have grit and determination, and oftentimes this mindset of abundance, where we have so much, as far as so much light, so much darkness. Then, a lot of times, this mindset of scarcity as well, where we’re at the end of the line, we have three to four days of food security at any given time. There’s things that also come into play that really just demonstrate how much of an extreme environment we live in.

Yes, wanting to be mayor. I’ve been in Alaska for over 23 years. I’m originally from Iowa, so I’m a land dweller from the middle of the United States. I came up here, just like a lot of other folks, looking for adventure. If you’ve ever been to the Midwest, they say, “Why would you ever want to leave the land, the heartland?” I said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in a year. I just want to go check it out.” After a year, it was painfully obvious that there was so much more to discover to Alaska that I just had to stay. I made my way up to Fairbanks from Anchorage after being there for seven years. I worked in the legislature and started to work for an interior gas utility that brought natural gas to our town.

During that time, I was an untraditional student and went back to our flagship university at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and got a master’s in organizational development. I wrote my thesis on the politics of relocating Alaska Native villages due to climate change. At the time, I didn’t really realize how that was going to inform my career as much as it has, because after being a labor agent for the laborers. I was the executive director for the Cold Climate Housing Research Center. I spent the last four years doing that while also serving on the Borough Assembly.

One of the things that’s interesting about Alaska is we have seven boroughs that are like counties in the lower 48, and then we have cities within those boroughs. Fairbanks has a borough that has a governing body, which is the assembly, and a mayor. Then within the borough, there are two cities that have each their own mayor and each their own governing bodies. Now I am the mayor of the city of Fairbanks. I have a city council that’s a smaller council that’s located within the borough. The borough is about the size of New Jersey, with 130,000 folks in it. The city is 32,000 of those. Then the city located within the borough is the city of North Pole. They have about 2,500 folks in there.

Like a lot of places where you go from city to city in urban areas, you may or may not know what boundary you’re in. That can be sometimes a point of confusion. We always like to joke for a place that’s so against government and against overregulation, we have a lot of government regulating us.

After serving in the assembly for six and a half years, I started my public service during COVID. I think I had been appointed for about six months and then elected about four months before COVID happened. I really learned how to govern in an elected position through a screen. I do think that COVID was obviously and certainly a pivotal point in politics, but even just in the way that we communicate. That’s my passion, my heart and soul, is communication and journalism, and that sort of thing. We had a mayor that was on paper doing a fine job. He had gotten programs started and knew the city really well and led it, but he was very discriminatory to the Alaska Native population here.

After some comments and some blow-ups that he had on social media, I knew that if anybody was going to be able to beat him in an election, that I’d be able to do it. I just believe that public service is a privilege, and somebody who is in office has to have the respect of every population that is within their community. I’ve wrestled with this a little bit coming into office as, well, the last mayor, he wasn’t doing a bad job. He was actually doing a good job, but he wasn’t showing our community the respect.

I think sometimes we miss out on that key piece of public service is showing your community respect, even if you don’t understand them, even if you don’t agree with them. I think that we have lost that on a lot of levels of government these days. I believe in government. I believe that we have government for a reason. When you don’t have good governance, I do think that one of the benefits of being in this position in the last six months is being a female. This is the first time Fairbanks has had a female mayor in about two decades. I’m the fourth one since 1903.

It’s really touching to be able to be, and especially a young female in my 40s, leading this community and being a role model for other girls in our community to see that there’s somebody like them who treats a community with respect and can lead in an environment that is sometimes very hostile and sometimes very male-driven. That’s a long way of saying that’s how I ended up here.

[00:09:02] Anthony Flint: Everybody’s wrestling with affordability these days. One big part of that is housing. What are the policies that can help in your region, whether home buying or renting?

[00:09:14] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: I mentioned at the beginning that Fairbanks is at the end of the line. While that’s true, we also have an abundance of resources that are part of our economy. We have timber, we have renewable energy, we have access to gravel, and alternative methods such as mycelium. While we’re at the end of the road, we have these resources at our disposal to be innovative on how we approach housing. I think that those answers come in local manufacturing of our own resources, innovation, and then also building things like kind of part homes that have been tested for extreme environments.

We suffer from a housing stock that’s from the ’70s. Alaska really got its last big boom during the oil pipeline of the ’70s. What happened was there was such an explosion of Westerners coming up to the state that they built things the way that they knew how to build things, which was without a lot of insulation, built out of whatever they had. We suffer from very inefficient housing. When we talk about what affordable housing is, for us, it really has to include a component of energy efficiency, so we can even afford to heat our homes.

This year, we’ve had one of the coldest winters on record. I think it was the fourth coldest winter on record. We also got a remarkable amount of snow. It’s been very challenging for folks, especially now that oil prices are going up. We have about 1,200 folks in our community that are on natural gas. Everybody else is heating their homes with diesel fuel. If you think about that, we have folks who are getting delivery of diesel fuel to their homes, myself included. I live in the most urban part of our city.

Going back to affordable housing, it really does include this holistic look of what’s going to work and how we can be energy efficient with our housing, but also how we can use our local resources for innovation and how we can manufacture the resources that we have here. Secondly, and this is something that I think is really interesting, is this idea, this concept of building generational wealth outside of homeownership. That’s a model and a tool that I’d really like to explore more as we talk about how we’re building affordable housing in our community.

[00:11:45] Anthony Flint: This is this idea that not everybody has to buy a home. It’s perfectly fine to rent.

[00:11:50] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: Perfectly fine to rent, but then the next question is, how do renters gain generational wealth so they’re not just handing over money every month without anything in return? They get a house to live in, but there’s no equity in it after a while. In what ways — and I know there are models out there — when we’re building affordable housing, how can we lower the amount of investment for folks in a way that it might not come back to them for 30 to 50 years, but in 30 to 50 years, they’re on their second or third generation of family where they have security in their family in a form of tangible wealth?

[00:12:34] Anthony Flint: There’s also the community land trust model, where you have this more shared equity, and there’s limits on resale, but you still have it.

[00:12:43] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: I like that. There’s more and more folks talking about how to do this in innovative ways. I think typically building homes and housing has been the game or the business of large, wealthy developers. In our community, we just can’t really afford that. We don’t have enough folks for a large developer to make money here. When we start to rethink about who’s investing in our own community, and who can invest, then we start to, I think, build out that wealth better.

[00:13:17] Anthony Flint: The Lincoln Institute has been helping municipalities identify government-owned land that can be used for affordable housing. Do you see opportunities in that approach?

[00:13:29] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: Absolutely, I do. A few facts for you here. 60% of our land in Alaska is federal. 25% is owned by the state of Alaska. It’s about 580,000 acres. 10% is owned by Native corporations, and 1% is private. We have a lot of government land that’s available. Now, about 80 million of those acres are managed for conservation, but that’s still quite a bit of land left for us to use. I think what the Lincoln Institute is doing, exploring these different land-use models, including transportation and other components of community building, is fantastic. I can’t wait to get my hands on more of that information. I signed up for the newsletter.

We have a parking structure that has been mothballed for, gosh, probably five years. The university that used it ended up not needing it. They literally welded the doors shut, and this building has been sitting there deteriorating ever since. Through the Alaska Housing Finance Corporation, who is a statewide housing financing bank, they purchased that parking garage and have put it out for bid for affordable housing. They worked with us, saying, “Okay, we own this now, but it’s right in the middle of your city. What do you want to do with this?” We walked through the options that we have. Do we want senior housing? Yes, we desperately need senior housing. Is this the right place? We don’t think so. Okay. Next option, affordable housing, high-end housing, two bedrooms, apartment. What is it that we need? Through that process, we’ve put out an RFP for a developer to then build two or three stories on top of that parking garage, therefore activating the space using, again, the parking garage for parking, covered parking, which is very important in Fairbanks, Alaska, but also getting units into the downtown core.

That’s one example. There’s a few others that we have ongoing in town, but that’s one example that I’m really eager to see how that plays out.

[00:15:48] Anthony Flint: What are the unique challenges of living with climate change in Alaska, and what, at the state and local level, can be done about it?

[00:15:57] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: They often call the Arctic the canary in the coal mine because we start to see the issues of climate change far beyond and far before the lower 48 or other parts of the world. The Arctic has been saying that something’s happening in our environment for quite some time. I mentioned before what we’ve noticed is we have more wind in Fairbanks, which means that we have more risk for summer fires, wildfires. In the winter, we’ve had more snow than usual.

It’s also been very cold, so colder than usual, which means that our ground will not thaw quickly, meaning that when the temperature gets hot in the air, what’s going to happen? It’s all going to melt into water, but there’s going to be nowhere for it to go because the ground hasn’t unthawed yet. Now we miss out on that water. We get lots of floods, and then we don’t have moisture in the ground, and so it’s more susceptible to wildfires in the summer. That’s just one instance of the cycle of how climate change has affected the interior.

I don’t think that there’s really much we can do about this now. It’s happening. We’re in a cycle of climatic disruption, for sure, but we can plan for it. We can plan for extreme events, so we know what we’re going to do when the power goes out and it’s negative 30 degrees. We know what’s going to happen when our river floods in the middle of our town and we’ve lost access to the hospital or to hotels. We know what to do when we have an ice event because we got three or four inches of rain on top of three or four feet of snow in the middle of winter, and how that affects the animals, the moose. How it affects our ability to hunt and fish and gather berries or medicinal foods.

I think planning is a very big part of how we are prepared because, honestly, you don’t know what’s going to happen from season to season. The other thing is with planning comes money. Alaska is a place where we do not collect sales taxes on a statewide basis. Some municipalities do — we do not, as the municipality of Fairbanks — and income taxes. We pay property taxes, and that’s all we pay. As we address these more and more climatic, dramatic events, it’s costing us more and more to repair the roads, costing more and more to protect the utilities that are above and below ground, and somewhere that’s going to have to come from funding.

We’re seeing less and less investment from the federal government for events like that. As Alaskans, it’s time for us to think really hard about how we want to protect and at what level we want to protect our assets that we have, and what level of commitment that comes from our own pocketbooks.

[00:19:04] Anthony Flint: Yes, leading into that, figuring some of this stuff out at the local level or the local and state level seems to be really important right now. How have you navigated being a mayor at a time when the federal government is reducing funding and more or less withdrawing from being a partner on so many issues?

[00:19:26] Mayor Mindy O’Neall: Yes. It seems like we continue to ask our employees to do more with less. At the same time, the public expects services to be modern. That means we have to invest in technology. A lot of times, we just don’t have the funding for that. It’s a tough spot, I got to say. I have all of these ideas and plans for being mayor. Then you come into the office and you’re like, “Okay, how am I going to make this work with the operations that we already have going, the way we want to provide services and make things more efficient for our public with less and less funding from the state and from the federal government?”

Again, I do think that we’re going to have to look at ways that we contribute to ourselves, and that comes back to the values that we hold as a community. We’re a place where tourists want to be because that’s also a big part of our economy. It’s tough. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I have two and a half more years to go. It’s definitely something I’m working on a lot, and how we do more with less and how we increase, or how we explain the value of good governance with putting our own skin in the game.

[00:20:43] Anthony Flint: Mindy O’Neall is mayor of Fairbanks, Alaska, the latest leader to be interviewed in the Lincoln Institute’s Mayor’s Desk series. We love talking to mayors, and we’ve compiled 20 of these interviews in a book, Mayor’s Desk: 20 Conversations with Local Leaders Solving Global Problems, which includes a forward by Michael Bloomberg. Otherwise, Mayor’s Desk interviews appear in Land Lines magazine, in addition to most of them being broadcast here on the Land Matters podcast. You can find everything on the Lincoln Institute website. Just navigate to lincolninst.edu.

On social media, our handle is @landpolicy. Please go ahead and rate, share, and subscribe to Land Matters, the podcast of the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. For now, I’m Anthony Flint signing off, until next time.

[00:21:41] [END OF AUDIO]

Read full transcript

A(lguien lo) D(iseñó para) U(sted)

Por Jon Gorey, Abril 16, 2026

Los Estados Unidos enfrentan una grave escasez de viviendas asequibles: existe una necesidad urgente de millones de hogares adicionales. Pero lo que agrava esa escasez de viviendas es un desajuste habitacional.

Resulta abrumador saber que, en gran parte de los EUA, los barrios residenciales existentes, es decir, los lugares que la mayoría elige para vivir por la cercanía a sus trabajos, amigos y familiares, y por contar con servicios públicos, transporte público y otras infraestructuras, están compuestos, de manera casi exclusiva, por viviendas unifamiliares.

Si bien una casa de estilo colonial con cuatro dormitorios y un patio grande puede tener sentido para una familia de altos ingresos compuesta por cinco personas, no debería ser la única opción de vivienda disponible en una comunidad, dada la caleidoscópica diversidad de los hogares, que van desde personas mayores hasta adultos jóvenes y padres solteros.

“Tendremos más personas mayores de 65 años que menores de 18 años en la próxima década”, comenta Rodney Harrell, vicepresidente de Familia, Hogar y Comunidad de la Asociación Estadounidense de Personas Jubiladas (AARP, por su sigla en inglés). La organización tiene una larga historia de abogar por mejores condiciones y opciones de vivienda para los adultos mayores. “Las personas quieren estar cerca de tiendas de comestibles, parques, bibliotecas, medios de transporte y otras opciones que los hagan sentir conectados. Pero uno de los desafíos es que quieren quedarse en sus barrios existentes y no hay suficientes opciones”.

Sin embargo, agregar nuevas opciones de vivienda a las comunidades existentes suele provocar quejas sobre los cambios en el carácter del barrio. Esta frase cargada puede incluir actitudes excluyentes y argumentos de mala fe dentro de su amplia ambigüedad, pero también puede ser una respuesta a decisiones de desarrollo cuestionables. Es comprensible que un propietario en un barrio de bungalós artesanales de principios del siglo pasado se sienta desanimado por la idea de un nuevo y elegante edificio de acero y hormigón de siete pisos en la esquina.

Y allí es donde radica el atractivo de la humilde unidad de vivienda accesoria, o ADU, más conocida coloquialmente como departamento para suegros, cochera, suite secundaria o casita, entre otros alias.

Al convertir un garaje, ático o sótano en un departamento independiente, o agregar una pequeña cabaña a un patio trasero, los propietarios pueden crear un espacio adicional para los miembros de la familia o una pequeña propiedad de alquiler que ayude a generar ingresos. Al mismo tiempo, ayudan a aumentar la oferta de opciones de vivienda asequible y accesible en el barrio, sin tener consecuencias drásticas en la estética local. Y facilitar esta posibilidad para los propietarios puede ayudar a las comunidades de todo el mundo a analizar la crisis habitacional local y nacional.

Durante la última década, muchas ciudades y algunos estados flexibilizaron las restricciones que existían desde hace décadas respecto de las ADU. California, por ejemplo, legalizó las ADU en todos los lotes unifamiliares en 2017; unos años más tarde, en 2023, las casi 27.000 ADU permitidas en todo el estado representaron un aumento de 20 veces con respecto a 2016 y más del 20 por ciento de todas las nuevas viviendas autorizadas. En 2024, se otorgaron permisos para más de 6.000 ADU solo en Los Ángeles.

Estas cifras no resultan suficientes para resolver por sí solas la crisis habitacional en California: ninguna medida aislada puede hacerlo. Pero es, sin dudas, una pieza del rompecabezas y una solución que muchas comunidades pueden respaldar.

Aun así, legalizar la construcción de una ADU es solo el primer paso. Facilitar la construcción es otro, y las ciudades pueden ayudar a darlo al eliminar las barreras innecesarias.

Por ejemplo, para fomentar y acelerar la adopción de las ADU, muchas ciudades de los EUA y Canadá comenzaron a ofrecer a los residentes acceso a planos preaprobados para ADU independientes, es decir, esquemas técnicos completos ya revisados por funcionarios de la construcción.

“Es posible que el sistema vaya un poco en contra del propietario local que desea poder hacer esto”, indica Harrell. Entre las revisiones del sitio, los planos de servicios públicos y las aprobaciones arquitectónicas, “son tantas cuestiones por superar y que uno está haciendo por primera vez”, agrega. “Tener estos diseños preaprobados elimina una de esas barreras. Sería algo así como: ‘No necesita ser diseñador ni tener suficiente dinero para contratar a uno. Aquí hay algunos diseños que pueden funcionar’”.

Planos preaprobados de ADU en California

Los Ángeles ofrece a los residentes un creciente catálogo de planes preaprobados de ADU, incluido un plan arquitectónico estándar de un dormitorio solicitado por la ciudad, que se denomina YOU-ADU (en la foto), que cualquier residente de Los Ángeles puede usar de forma gratuita.

También existen docenas de otros planos preaprobados, pero requieren que se pague una modesta tarifa de licencia a los respectivos arquitectos, que también pueden contratarse para consultas específicas del sitio.

Si bien un plano preaprobado de ADU ya cumple con ciertos códigos de la ciudad (por ejemplo, regulaciones de construcción, incendios y energía) y, por lo tanto, puede avanzar a través del proceso de verificación y permisos con mayor rapidez que un diseño personalizado, un propietario no puede solo instalar una ADU en el patio trasero sin más preguntas. Sigue siendo necesario conseguir las aprobaciones específicas del sitio, como el uso de suelo o las revisiones de aguas pluviales.

Pero usar un plano preaprobado puede acortar el proceso semanas o incluso meses, y ofrece más previsibilidad a los propietarios de viviendas y los funcionarios locales. La eficiencia de un diseño estándar también puede generar ahorros de costos.

“Los planos personalizados no solo requieren más tiempo y dinero, sino que resulta mucho más complejo cumplirlos en el sitio”, comenta Whitney Hill, cofundadora y directora ejecutiva de SnapADU en el sur de California, donde varias ciudades cerca de San Diego seleccionaron sus planos de diseño estándar para la preaprobación.

Todos estos factores aumentan los precios, agrega, y señala que, en general, la construcción de una ADU totalmente personalizada cuesta de USD 30.000 a USD 50.000 más que una estándar del mismo tamaño y cantidad de camas y baños. “Por otro lado, los planos que construimos con anterioridad ya se pusieron a prueba frente a las limitaciones del mundo real; sabemos que podemos construirlos de manera eficiente”.

Hill comenta que la obtención más rápida de permisos con diseños estándar también puede traducirse en costos más bajos. “Construir una ADU en 12 meses en comparación con 18 meses es mucho más económico desde una perspectiva de costos generales para nosotros”, indica. “Compartimos esos ahorros con el propietario”.

Incluso cuando se utiliza un plano preaprobado, los propietarios deben estar preparados para los costos y el trabajo específicos del sitio, señala. “Es fundamental comprender la topografía del sitio, las ubicaciones de los servicios públicos existentes y las cargas existentes sobre esos servicios públicos”, indica. Algunos proyectos pueden necesitar mejoras en el servicio de agua para incluir un baño adicional, por ejemplo, o un panel eléctrico mejorado, lo que puede ser costoso.

Pero uno de los mayores beneficios de usar un diseño estándar, según Hill, es la previsibilidad. “Los costos de construcción de un plano de planta existente están disponibles incluso antes de que inicie su propio proyecto”, explica Hill, “[lo cual] es ideal para los propietarios que tienen que ceñirse a un presupuesto específico”.

El ADUniverso de Seattle

Si bien el estado de Washington aprobó recientemente una legislación que exige que las ciudades permitan cuatro viviendas en todos los lotes residenciales (y seis unidades cerca de centros de transporte público), Seattle comenzó a adoptar las ADU hace más de una década, para lo cual flexibilizó algunas restricciones locales que se interponían, como el tamaño mínimo de los lotes.

“Ese fue un primer paso importante y viable, porque la ciudad ejerce el mayor control en las regulaciones del uso de suelo”, comenta Nicolas Welch, planificador sénior de la Oficina de Planificación y Desarrollo Comunitario de Seattle.

Aun así, la mayoría de los propietarios tienen poca o ninguna experiencia con el desarrollo de viviendas, por lo que la idea de contratar a un arquitecto y solicitar permisos para construir una casa de campo en el patio trasero puede ser abrumadora, incluso antes de pensar en el alto costo que implica. Seattle pronto decidió que debería hacer más que simplemente mejorar sus regulaciones y, en 2020, creó un sitio web repleto de recursos llamado ADUniverse.

“El sitio se creó para proporcionar todos los recursos que un propietario podría necesitar en un solo lugar con información de mejor calidad y más clara para las personas que básicamente están tratando de emprender la construcción por primera vez, sin ningún tipo de experiencia”, indica Welch. “Una parte de ello era ofrecer algunos diseños preaprobados, la otra, permitirles buscar su propiedad para ver qué es realmente factible en su lote”.

La ciudad invitó a los arquitectos a presentar sus diseños de ADU y, de 165 presentaciones, un jurado seleccionó los 10 planos que obtendrían la preaprobación del departamento de construcción. En los cinco años transcurridos desde entonces, agrega Welch, “se otorgaron unos 350 permisos para los diseños preaprobados”, o alrededor del 10 por ciento de todas las ADU aprobadas en ese momento; la ciudad ahora permite un promedio de unas 900 ADU nuevas por año.

“Por un lado, es un número muy pequeño para una ciudad y un condado con una escasez de cientos de miles de unidades, por lo que creo que es importante dimensionar las expectativas”, agrega Welch. “Es un número muy pequeño e incremental. Pero también son cientos de unidades nuevas en las que ahora viven personas”.

El uso de un plano preaprobado acelera el proceso de revisión en gran medida, indica Welch. “Si las características no son complejas, como estar en una pendiente muy empinada o tener que quitar un árbol gigantesco o algo así, entonces el permiso se obtiene en dos a seis semanas, en lugar de tres o cuatro meses”.

ADU preaprobados en Oregón

Más allá de crear viviendas discretas de alta densidad, las ADU son, casi por definición, pequeñas y, por lo tanto, inherentemente más asequibles que la mayoría de las viviendas unifamiliares nuevas, que promediaron 223,5 metros cuadrados en el tercer trimestre de 2025.

En Oregón, el Proyecto de Densificación Residencial (Residential Infill Project) de Portland produjo más de 1.400 nuevos permisos para ADU y viviendas intermedias faltantes en barrios unifamiliares, que representan casi la mitad de todo el desarrollo nuevo en la ciudad desde 2022 hasta 2024, incluso mientras otros tipos de construcciones se rezagaban.

Pero el programa también limitó el coeficiente de edificabilidad del suelo (FAR, por sus siglas en inglés) y, como resultado, “el motivo económico para los desarrolladores pasó de construir las unidades más grandes posibles a construir la mayor cantidad de unidades posibles”, según un informe de progreso de 2025.

Esta iniciativa demostró una mejora en la capacidad de pago. En 2023 y 2024, los precios de venta de las nuevas viviendas intermedias faltantes promediaron entre USD 250.000 y USD 300.000 menos que las nuevas casas unifamiliares en los mismos barrios de Portland, en gran parte, debido a los tamaños más pequeños.

ADU preaprobados en Louisville, Kentucky

AARP publicó su primer modelo de ordenanza ADU hace más de dos décadas. Desde entonces, la organización ayudó a varias ciudades, incluida Louisville, Kentucky, a volver a legalizar las ADU a nivel local y ayudó a las comunidades a celebrar concursos de diseño para crear planes arquitectónicos gratuitos para uso de los residentes.

Louisville invitó a los arquitectos a presentar sus diseños y luego preaprobó y compró los derechos de tres planos de ADU, que ofrece de forma gratuita a los residentes de Louisville.

Rodney Harrell, de AARP, comenta que las ADU pueden mejorar la libertad de las personas mayores al darles más y mejores opciones en los lugares donde ya viven. “Lo que me encanta es que es una solución que brinda más opciones a las personas que quieren estar en las comunidades donde mejor se sienten”, explica.

“Hablo con muchas personas que están estancadas”, agrega Harrell. “Tienen una casa y quizás, en algún momento, fue la casa de sus sueños, pero ahora se convirtió en una pesadilla. Tienen demasiadas escaleras. Tal vez es demasiado grande y su cónyuge falleció, y ya no puede afrontar los gastos”.

Una persona mayor que ya no puede usar las escaleras de su casa puede permanecer en la comunidad que ama al construir una ADU totalmente asequible y de diseño universal en el patio trasero, explica, y alquilar la casa principal. “Eso le da más libertad”, indica. “Si quiere quedarse en su casa principal y que un cuidador se quede en la ADU, eso también le da más libertad. O tal vez solo necesita un poco de dinero que le permita quedarse en su casa, y podría alquilar la ADU para cubrir los gastos de permanecer en la casa principal”.

Y en otros lugares

En Seattle, Welch comenta que los esfuerzos de la ciudad para legalizar las ADU en barrios unifamiliares ayudaron a allanar el camino para más viviendas intermedias (dúplex, tríplex y cuádruples). “El cielo no se desplomó, por lo tanto, los legisladores estatales se sintieron respaldados y con mayor capacidad de acción”, agrega.

Muchas otras ciudades y estados de los EUA y Canadá también están adoptando las ADU y ofrecen planes de diseño, orientación y “catálogos de ADU” para los residentes interesados en construir una.

Eventos

2026 Urban Economics and Public Finance Conference

Abril 30, 2026 - Mayo 1, 2026

Cambridge, MA United States

Offered in inglés

The economic growth and development of urban areas are closely linked to local fiscal conditions. This research seminar offers a forum for new academic work on the interaction of these two areas. It provides an opportunity for specialists in each area to become better acquainted with recent developments and to explore their potential implications for synergy. 

This event is by invitation only.


Detalles

Fecha(s)
Abril 30, 2026 - Mayo 1, 2026
Time
8:30 a.m. - 12:15 p.m. (EDT, UTC-4)
Location
Lincoln Institute of Land Policy
Cambridge, MA United States
Idioma
inglés

Palabras clave

desarrollo económico, economía, vivienda, inequidad, uso de suelo, planificación de uso de suelo, valor del suelo, tributación del valor del suelo, gobierno local, tributación inmobilaria, finanzas públicas, orden espacial, tributación, urbano, valuación, impuesto a base de valores

March 27, 2026

By Anthony Flint, March, 27, 2026

Of all the major Supreme Court decisions of the 20th century, there’s one that stands out for shaping the way we live and the physical contours of the American landscape: Village of Euclid v. Ambler Realty Co., which affirmed that cities and towns could institute zoning as a way to regulate all growth and development.

The case came out of a suburb just east of Cleveland in the 1920s, when a real estate company was denied the use of land for industrial development; appeals went all the way to the Supreme Court, which backed the village of Euclid, and in so doing provided constitutional blessing to the basic concept of zoning seen in color-coded maps to this day—homes in one part of town, commercial and retail in another, and manufacturing and industrial uses in yet another.

At the time, Justice George Sutherland made the comment that a factory shouldn’t be in a residential area any more than “a pig in the parlor.” He also said apartment buildings shouldn’t be mixed in with single-family homes, saying the presence of residential density was like welcoming in a “parasite.”

That was in 1926, and this year, scholars and policymakers are marking the 100th anniversary of the Euclid decision, as zoning is being reevaluated across the country. Some 33 states have passed reforms to allow more density in zones once reserved for single-family homes only, and to promote the concept of mixed-use, blending housing with shops, restaurants, and workplaces all within walking distance—basically the kind of neighborhoods that Euclid made illegal. The critique suggests that American zoning is outdated and hasn’t kept up with the times—and, perhaps most important, that its application has made housing unaffordable and racially segregated.

For those reasons, zoning is “starting to be at least chipped away at by state and even local legislation,” said William Fischel, professor emeritus at Dartmouth College, in an interview on the latest episode of the Land Matters podcast.

Fischel is author of the book Zoning Rules, published in 2015 by the Lincoln Institute and cited in the early pages of Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson, who blame excessive regulation for blocking housing and infrastructure projects. He is also author of The Homevoter Hypothesis, an explanation of how mostly single-family homeowners have used zoning and environmental regulations to preserve the status quo.

Zoning emerged out of concern for public health and the need to organize cities to accommodate manufacturing and residential development following the invention of the automobile, says Fischel, who was the keynote speaker at a symposium at George Mason University earlier this year cosponsored by the Mercatus Center, the Pacific Legal Foundation and the Journal of Law, Economics and Policy.

Listen to the show here or subscribe to Land Matters on Apple Podcasts, SpotifyStitcher, YouTube, or wherever you listen to podcasts.

 


Further Reading

Zoning Rules! The Economics of Land Use Regulation | Lincoln Institute

How Zoning Won—and Why It’s Now Losing Ground | Lincoln Institute

Have We Reached Peak Zoning? | The Future of Where

Here’s Looking at Euclid | Cite Journal

Goodbye, Zoning? | Vanderbilt Law Review

Analyzing Land Readjustment: Economics, Law, and Collective Action | Lincoln Institute

  


Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines. 


Transcript

[00:00:05] Anthony Flint: Welcome to Episode 2 of Season 7 of the Land Matters Podcast. I’m your host, Anthony Flint. Of all the major Supreme Court decisions of the 20th century, there’s one that stands out for shaping the way we live and the physical contours of the American landscape: Village of Euclid v. Ambler Realty Company, which affirmed that cities and towns could institute zoning as a way to regulate all growth and development.

The case came out of a suburb just east of Cleveland in the 1920s when a real estate company sought to use their land for industrial development. The town said no, we want that area to be residential. Ambler Realty sued and the case made it all the way to the Supreme Court. The justices backed the Village of Euclid and in so doing provided constitutional blessing to the basic concept of zoning that we all see in color-coded maps to this day, homes in one part of town, commercial and retail in another, and manufacturing and industrial uses in yet another.

At the time, Justice George Sutherland made the comment that a factory shouldn’t be in a residential area any more than a pig in a parlor. He also said apartment buildings shouldn’t be mixed in with single-family homes, saying the presence of residential density was like welcoming in a parasite. Strong words from Justice Sutherland, to be sure, but from that point on, thousands of municipalities followed the template of separating uses and spreading them around. That was in 1926.

Understandably — not everybody might be aware of this –but scholars and policymakers and others are actually marking the 100th anniversary of the Euclid decision. It’s not so much a celebration but a reconsideration of the landmark ruling, looking at the effect that’s had 100 years later and essentially reassessing what has come to be known as Euclidean zoning itself.

Some 33 states have passed reforms to allow more density in zones once reserved for single-family homes only, and to promote the concept of mixed use, blending housing with shops, restaurants, and workplaces all within walking distance — basically the kind of neighborhoods that Euclid made illegal. The critique suggests that American zoning is outdated and hasn’t kept up with the times, and perhaps, most important, has made housing unaffordable and racially segregated.

With us today to unpack all of this is William Fischel, a professor emeritus at Dartmouth College and author of the book, Zoning Rules, published in 2015 by the Lincoln Institute. That volume is cited in the early pages of Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson, who blame excessive regulation for blocking housing and infrastructure projects. Fischel is also the author of The Homevoter Hypothesis, an explanation of how mostly single-family homeowners tend to resist any changes because they’re worried about property values. We’ll discuss that in just a bit.

I should add that Fischel was the keynote speaker at a symposium at George Mason University earlier this year, co-sponsored by the Mercatus Center, the Pacific Legal Foundation, and the Journal of Law, Economics, and Policy, which was featured in Bloomberg City Lab and Land Lines Magazine. He’s a great friend of the Lincoln Institute and served with distinction for many years on the board of the organization. Bill Fischel, welcome to the Land Matters Podcast.

[00:03:31] William Fischel: Thank you, Anthony. Good to be here.

[00:03:33] Anthony Flint: Let’s start toward the beginning of all this, the advent of zoning in the US. One of the fun facts I discovered while researching some of this is that zoning was imported — along with the delicatessen — from Germany after the turn of the last century. Why and how did zoning come to be the go-to policy for guiding growth and development in this country?

[00:03:55] William: Edward Bassett, considered to be the father of zoning: he and other people went to Germany. Germany was the place you went for advanced civilization. In the twenties before World War I, Germany was the high point of culture and science and social science as well. Bassett and some other people went to Germany and studied zoning. He came back with the idea that you could have comprehensive zoning.

Now, comprehensive zoning in Germany turned out was different from comprehensive zoning in the United States. That is, the United States massaged it quite a bit. In Germany, the idea was to split the city into something like thirds, like a pie wedge, so many pie wedges or pizza wedges, where businesses would be in the center, a logical place for them, and along each pie wedge would live the people who worked in that particular industry.

This was to save transportation costs, so you could go back and forth, so all the workers going to the same place could go to the same place at home, regular commuting instead of going in circles and so forth. If you were in the metal industry and there was a metal factory, the metal workers and their bosses would live outside. Now, the bosses lived in nicer homes, maybe a little farther out. It wasn’t like there was great intermixing, but there was this segregation by occupation. That didn’t go anywhere in the United States. We had company towns and things like this where people lived around the factory and so forth.

The zoning that occurred in the United States was really separating residential from commercial from industrial. I grew up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, where they had a great big steel mill. Workers clustered around the plant. A lot of people walked to work because they couldn’t afford a car, or it was just more convenient. The clustering was natural there. The separation of uses, commercial from industrial and so forth, was a feature of American zoning from the get-go. I think that was what made it fairly attractive.

[00:05:51] Anthony Flint: Now, there was also some thinking in the progressive era at the time about the health impacts. Can you talk a little bit about that, this idea that congestion and tenement houses and housing of any kind being close to a smelter or a tannery and all of that?

[00:06:08] William Fischel: There was certainly that. The big progressive move actually had occurred in the late 19th century that made cities much more livable. They got decent drinking water, and they dug sewers, got the waste out of the neighborhoods, at least. Those were great advances in public health.

Once that was fixed, people, as people do, want to go to the next best thing, and that is, “Let’s not have these noxious fumes from our factory.” If you’re a steelworker, you endure it during the day, you’d rather not endure it at night. You’d like to be a little farther away from the blast furnaces. That was part of the story. This was an issue that could be fixed by distance.

The plant operators in Pittsburgh got together and said, “It’s so damn polluted, people don’t want to live here. We can’t recruit executives to come from other cities because it’s so polluted.” They actually collectively, along with the state of Pennsylvania, restricted the plants themselves, reducing pollution, relocating them so they weren’t so close to the residents, and more or less cleaned up Pittsburgh by the standards of the time. That was a big accomplishment.

The thing that brought on zoning was the desire for single-family homes. That was usually not a problem when there was simply distance involved. What upset that equilibrium was the invention of the automobile. The automobile, and most importantly, the derivatives of the automobile, something called the motor truck and a jitney bus — a jitney bus was a small bus almost always privately operated that just cruised around neighborhoods, picked up people, and took them to work or took them shopping or whatever. It’s like an airport bus now today in its capacity, not in its comfort. The cheap car and the cheap truck and cheap motor bus made industry and apartment dwellers footloose. They didn’t have to walk to work anymore. The industry could put parts of their business, maybe all of their business, out in much cheaper land in the suburbs.

The industry was suffering from congestion by the docks or by the railhead, competing with other businesses. They say, “Let’s move the warehouse out in the suburbs here. We’ve got this tract of land.” Put up a warehouse or put up some storage place or put up a back office operation. They could do that now that they could truck things from one place to another pretty easily. They didn’t have to be stuck to rail lines or trolley lines. That’s what made the single-family house vulnerable. It couldn’t be cured by distance anymore. It had to be cured by something else.

Eventually, developers in California led the charge here. Everybody was moving to California in the early 20th century, emptying out the Midwest. Developers wanted single-family homes. They wanted that single-family house in the suburbs, out in Pasadena and outside central Los Angeles.

The developers in Southern California faced up to this problem and said, “We need to adopt some collective action.” They got the city of Los Angeles to let them establish their own residential districts. It was really the first zoning laws. The problem that came up in Los Angeles was that industry was having a problem finding a place to locate.

The classic case, Sebastian v. Hadacheck … Mr. Hadacheck had a brick factory. He had it downtown Los Angeles. Residential development occurred around his brick factory. You’d think they would have smelled it first, but there they went. They established one of these residential districts and said, “You’ve got to get out of here. Sorry, Hadacheck. You can’t stay here anymore. You’re in the wrong zone.”

Hadacheck moves away, a couple of miles away, and it’s open land. He builds up his brick factory. He has a brick truck. He’s got that Henry Ford derivative invention of a truck. He can move his bricks. He’s happy as a clam until somebody develops a residential area right next to him. Same thing, deja vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say. He gets zoned out. He takes this case to the California Supreme Court. The California Supreme Court says, “Too bad. First in time is not first in right.” If you’re making something like a nuisance or a brick factory, they’re not pleasant to be next to. He takes it to the US Supreme Court. The US Supreme Court says, “Too bad. Sorry, Hadacheck. You have to move.”

Los Angeles turns around and says, “We have a problem here. Our problem is we got lots of residential land, but we have no place for them to work. We have no place for them to put brick factory. We can’t do anything if we can’t have our business.” They invent the exclusive industrial zone.

On the other side of the river, no houses allowed, at least no new houses allowed. Industry is free to locate there. Once they do that, they have something that looks comprehensive. Just before they do that, New York comes up with it’s comprehensive zoning. My friend, Edward Bassett, writes the zoning law, pretty much, and separates commercial and apartments and so forth in all five boroughs. New York City is a big place, even bigger than Los Angeles back then. Those two events are the birth of zoning.

[00:11:36] Anthony Flint: Now, there’s another theme underpinning some of this in zoning, and that is racial segregation. How did zoning end up becoming a tool to set down the rules for who lived where?

[00:11:49] William: Modern zoning and zoning stemming from Euclid was not who lived where, but what you could do where. It wasn’t a matter of Jones and Smith have to live on this said street and Brown and White have to live on the other side. It was about residential versus commercial versus industrial, and always the size of that house and so forth.

The mix-up, the mash-up here, and I think people are understandably both confused and concerned by this, is that there’s a case before Euclid called Buchanan v. Warley. In Buchanan v. Warley, it started in the border states of the South: Maryland, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri, and so forth. Prior to World War II, a lot of industry is starting to develop, partly generated by demand for US products from the outbreak of the war.

Lots of Black people are coming to these cities. They’re sick of being sharecroppers and being discriminated against, and so they move north to cities. The cities of the border south are quite unwelcoming to Black residents. They’re okay with them in their factories, but they want them to live in their own place. There’s no law that says that Black people have to live in this section and white people live in that section, so they make a law that says exactly that. The law says, “In this area, wherever there are majority whites located in a block, then Black people cannot live there, either rent or buy, except as servants.” This is really virtually an apartheid ordinance.

This law is taken to the US Supreme Court, Buchanan v. Warley, nine years before Euclid, hears the case. It takes a look at the 14th Amendment of the United States, which says life, liberty, and property shall not be denied them anyway. It says, “No, this violates the Constitution and strikes down the law unanimously.” Conservative, liberal, everybody in between says, “No, that will not fly.”

Some of the cities go and try and tweak it a little bit. They see this thing called zoning. Zoning comes in after this and doesn’t mention race or anything about the characteristics of people who might occupy. It just says use. It divides things up. There were residential zones. There were residential zones that allowed apartments. There were commercial zones. There were industrial zones. These zones, in ways that you’d look back at it and say, “It looks sensible.” The residential zones are along these loopy streets that you see in suburbs that were popular back then. The main drag is zoned for apartments.

What Euclid does mainly is says, “It’s okay to separate these uses. We’re not giving you standards as to how to separate them. We’re not telling you what the property is. You’re not telling us you can separate by race. We already struck that down.” Cities kept attempting it, and the courts, even the state courts in the South, were striking it down. It never got any real traction. Zoning, on the other hand, blasted out the gate once the Supreme Court said, “Okay.” The irony here is that developers now complain about the zoning regulations and so forth. Zoning was a developer idea.

[00:14:54] Anthony Flint: All of these threads continue to intertwine through the Great Depression and World War II, through the well- documented practice of redlining certain areas to be eligible for mortgages, the prevalence of racial covenants, on through with the development of places like Levittown and increasingly larger lots that only certain people can afford.

What’s so remarkable is that these rules got so locked in, as you point out, with the owners of primarily single-family homes buttressed by environmental laws and the growth management movement, at least since about 1970. Can you talk a little bit about why it was effectively defended for so long and, of course, continues to be, and that is this idea of nimbyism or not in my backyard?

[00:15:39] William Fischel: I’ve been studying zoning for 50 years. I looked at zoning and I thought it looked too restrictive from an economics point of view, but I said, “Why is this?” I needed to understand not just how zoning operated, but who was behind zoning. I looked around and was on the Hanover (New Hampshire) zoning board. I’m looking at who’s showing up at my meetings. They’re homeowners.

Asking myself, “Why are they going on about these proposed developments near their homes that look perfectly benign to me, better than most, and going on like the earth will end if this project gets done?” It hits me in a financial sense that these people, homeowners like myself, maybe like you, have a very large asset in their financial portfolio.

I’m thinking like an economist. This asset, unlike stocks that you might own, is not diversified. My pension fund is diversified. If General Motors goes south, Tesla will take up the slack, big deal, diversified portfolio. Most of my other assets, about half of my assets, I would estimate, are in my home. If that goes south, there’s no diversification. I can’t pick up my home and move it to another neighborhood. I can’t put my home up in parts and sell it to other parties to make a mutual fund out of it. I’m stuck with a very undiversified asset.

I developed the idea that homeowners are acute, overly, acutely aware of the risk, not just the value, the risk that their home endures because it’s in one place, in one industry, in one location, and they’ve got to defend it. They have to defend it more than you would think would be rational because they’re not just thinking about the expected outcome, they’re thinking about the risk. They show up at the zoning board and behave like they’re irrationally concerned when they’re not irrationally concerned. They’re NIMBYs. They’re not in my backyard.

Now, these people are not terribly effective until 1970. The environmental movement gives them a tool to run around me on the zoning board, to go to court and have the courts decide this. Now, the courts might be sensible places to do, but they take time. For developers, time is money. They’ve bought the land on a loan and they’ve got to pay interest. The bank is not waiting for them. They make compromises. “Oh, we wanted to have quarter-acre lots here. How about I make them half-acre lots or 2-acre lots or something like that?” Low density zoning because I can’t wait for you to decide.

Then lots of the environmental laws become really fussy about things like wetlands. Doubles the amount of land that is taken off the market where developers can’t go or they can’t go without conditions from the zoning board or the planning board to do it. Again, taking time, taking money to do it. This gets multiplied. The environmental movement is at the root of this. It’s not a crazy movement, but it’s taken to extremes by people who are not so much concerned about the environment as the value of their homes.

[00:18:34] Anthony Flint: Now that’s changing.

[00:18:35] William Fischel: I think eventually excessive success generates sometimes a collapse. I think that’s what we’re seeing now. I hope it’s a gentle collapse. I don’t want them to throw out all environmental laws. I don’t want them to fill in all the wetlands or disregard the important environmental issues. They’ve been taken to extremes and they’ve been abused by local groups.

What I’m seeing here is not simply state laws that say, “Towns, you have to pay attention to housing,” but also courts that are saying, “Hey, guys, this endless environmental invocations to stop development have to have an end.” It does have what economists would call an opportunity cost. That opportunity cost is housing and a stratified society and a stultified economy. That’s what the authors of Abundance have pointed out and saying, “We don’t have to be that way.”

One of the things that occasionally makes me happy to be in a diverse democracy is people occasionally say, “Yes, we have to change our ways.” I’m seeing people change their ways and changing their attitudes towards this. I don’t want to run back to 1916 and just get rid of zoning. I think the idea that we can just abolish zoning is very wishful thinking.

[00:19:48] Anthony Flint: A process where zoning is continually tweaked and revisited and an acknowledgement that times have changed, especially with affordability being so front and center.

[00:20:01] William Fischel: I don’t think if we abolished zoning, we would get rid of our racial problems by any stretch of the imagination. I think once you get the town manager or the city manager saying, “I’m sorry. We can’t fill out the ranks of the fire department because we can’t get people to move here,” that gets people’s attention after a while. The private sector has been complaining about that for a while.

Now I think there’s real traction of people feeling the consequences of this excessive fussiness about who your neighbors are that it’s starting to be at least chipped away at by state and even local legislation. I’ve been critical of my own town, but I’ll give my town a bit of credit. We have an infill development in process that allows single-family homes to be converted to two-family, even four-family homes in the neighborhoods. There is resistance, but it was generated entirely by the town council.

You present people with the facts and enough evidence, real-time evidence, sometimes they come around and say, “Yes, we do have to change our ways.” I’m encouraged. I’ve been retired from teaching for six years, but I’m happy to spread some of the hopefully good news of land use regulations that accommodate more people, outsiders, and a larger spectrum of the social and, of course, the racial spectrum that makes the United States an interesting place.

[00:21:17] Anthony Flint: What’s so interesting to me is just how these rules that most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about really shape our society and how we live.

[00:21:28] William Fischel: One of the things I discovered on the zoning board is how naive, at least from our point of view, people are about zoning. Until something happens in the neighborhood, then they get well-informed. Then they understand what the rules are. I think enough things are happening from enough different points of view that some change is likely to happen. I don’t think it will be without rough spots, but I see the general trend as positive here.

[00:21:49] Anthony Flint: Bill Fischel, thank you so much for joining the conversation at Land Matters.

[00:21:54] William Fischel: You’re welcome.

[00:21:54] Anthony Flint: You can find more background on the Euclid case and Bill Fischel’s book, Zoning Rules, at the Lincoln Institute website, lincolninst.edu. Zoning has a special place in the history of the Lincoln Institute.

We actually had our own symposium on Euclid, if you can believe it, in 1986 on the occasion of the 60th anniversary of the decision, co-organized by Charles Haar and Jerold Kayden from Harvard, and led to the publication of Zoning and the American Dream: Promises Still to Keep, published in 1989. That book, in turn, was reviewed in Cite Journal, a publication of Rice University, under a headline that has to be one of the most clever in scholarly writing about land use: “Here’s Looking at Euclid.”

There’s an additional wonderful Henry George thread here as well. The lawyer for Ambler Realty, Newton Baker, succeeded Tom Johnson as mayor of Cleveland and was similarly a dedicated Georgist, alongside none other than John C. Lincoln, the founder of the Lincoln Institute, who was active as an inventor and entrepreneur in the Cleveland area around the turn of the last century.

One way or the other, we look at zoning and land use regulation, especially as it pertains to housing construction today, pretty much on a continual basis. After all, zoning is about land and we’re the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. On social media, our handle is @landpolicy. Please go ahead and rate, share, and subscribe to Land Matters, the podcast of the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. For now, I’m Anthony Flint signing off until next time.

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A courtyard at a glass-paned commercial building, with rust- and tan-colored residential buildings visible in the background. The courtyard is dotted with greenery and a few orange umbrellas.

How Zoning Won—and Why It’s Now Losing Ground

By Anthony Flint, Marzo 9, 2026

This article is reprinted with permission from Bloomberg CityLab, where it originally appeared.

Of all the society-shaping US Supreme Court decisions of the 20th century, from Brown v. Board of Education to Roe v. Wade and beyond, one lesser-known ruling has had the greatest impact on the American landscape—not only the physical character of growth and development, but how we live and work, the lengths of our commutes, and the affordability of homes.

In Village of Euclid v. Ambler Realty Co., a suburb just east of Cleveland barred a real estate company from using their land for industrial use; the developers sued and the case went all the way to the nation’s highest court, which affirmed that municipalities could impose zoning to organize development, as a police power.

The 1926 ruling—garnished by Justice George Sutherland’s comment that a factory shouldn’t be in a residential area any more than “a pig in the parlor”—gave constitutional blessing to the establishment of permissible uses on specific properties, seen in color-coded maps to this day. From then on, the template for the built environment was set: residential homes in one part of town, commercial and retail in another, and manufacturing and industrial uses in yet another.

Codifying this separation of uses led to the unique phenomenon of American suburban sprawl, essentially requiring the use of the automobile to get around as the areas for life’s functions spread further apart. It also locked in the hegemony of the single-family home, at the expense of more affordable multifamily housing.

Now, on the 100th anniversary of the decision, what has come to be known as Euclidian zoning is under siege. Progressives and pro-housing advocates in the Yes in My Backyard (or YIMBY) movement have joined defenders of property rights and free-market libertarians in declaring zoning as hopelessly outdated. This somewhat unlikely alliance blames local land use regulations for blocking apartment construction, exacerbating the housing crisis and perpetuating racial disparities in home ownership. Zoning is one of the big villains in Abundance, Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson’s call to reassess the regulations that hinder infrastructure projects.

Some 33 states have passed reforms to allow more density in zones once reserved for single-family homes only, according to the Mercatus Center at George Mason University, which co-hosted a symposium reevaluating the Euclid case last month, with the Pacific Legal Foundation and the Journal of Law, Economics and Policy. Thousands of communities have re-legalized mixed-use development as well, seeking to blend housing with shops and restaurants in walking distance—the kind of neighborhood that Euclid made illegal.

The message is clear: The rules haven’t kept up with the times. And for some, they weren’t such a good idea in the first place.

To be fair, things were pretty messy at the turn of the 20th century, prompting local governments to try to impose order. During the Industrial Revolution, manufacturing facilities were marbled into fast-growing cities like Pittsburgh and Cleveland, leaving smelters and tanneries and brickyards next to worker housing and residential neighborhoods. Immigration and a rural-to-urban migration filled urban neighborhoods with people crowded into tenement houses. Density and mixed-use became associated with dangers to public health.

Beginning in earnest around 1904, municipalities endeavored to tidy up—“a place for everything, and everything in its place,” said Dartmouth professor emeritus and keynote presenter William Fischel, whose 2015 book Zoning Rules! is cited in the early pages of Abundance. (A trivia fact for the next cocktail party: The basic framework of zoning was imported, like the delicatessen, from Germany.) At the same time, Henry Ford’s Model T opened up all kinds of land for different forms of development, Fischel said. The new frontier needed to be organized.

There were also pernicious motivations. As George Mason University professor Olivia Gonzalez pointed out, the Cleveland area in the 1920s was rife with racist policies, like covenants and sundown curfews, but also attempts to control who lived where, through local rules forbidding multifamily housing, small lots, and even alleys.

The fundamental appeal of zoning was that it served multiple aims. Progressives, putting their faith in experts, saw it as a way to make America healthy again, by spreading out and keeping polluting industries away from residential areas; even as that stirred up worries about planned societies and socialism, the US Chamber of Commerce and the commerce secretary and future president Herbert Hoover backed it as good for business.

Euclid wasn’t the first US city to implement zoning: New York City passed the first citywide ordinance in 1916. But the village was an especially enthusiastic early adopter. Its founders included a bunch of surveyors from Connecticut, who had a thing for geometrical arrangements and named the town after the Greek mathematician. Euclid’s response to Ambler’s lawsuit was that the local government was doing what everyone else was doing, guiding growth with practical principles.

Justice Sutherland agreed, characterizing an apartment building in a single-family neighborhood as a sinister “parasite”—a line that planted seeds for the bias and fear related to density that endures to this day. A central theme of NIMBYism, after all, is that new housing is a threat to community well-being, like soot from smokestacks.

With the Supreme Court’s endorsement, zoning was off and running, through the development of single-family suburbs like Levittown and beyond. Around 1970, as Fischel noted, land use regulation got another powerful ally in the form of the growth management movement, with its urban growth boundaries and elaborate environmental protocols aimed at preserving wetlands and open space.

Then zoning came face to face with affordability.

In my 2006 book This Land: The Battle over Sprawl and the Future of America, I predicted that compact, walkable neighborhoods would become more appealing as residents in far-flung, car-dependent subdivisions got tired of paying so much for gasoline. Today the more existential dilemma is that millions of people can’t afford a home or pay the rent. Desirable areas are dominated by single-family homes on large lots, fiercely defended by the current occupants against further development—those parasite apartment buildings—that could accommodate a wider range of incomes. In this view, Euclidian zoning has been weaponized as a tool to lock in the status quo.

In a reveal of how entrenched zoning has been, the regulatory regime has only recently been effectively challenged. Credit goes to YIMBYism and the abundance movement, as well as scholars like Harvard’s Edward Glaeser, who has documented how restrictive land use regulations are stifling urban economies, for finally bringing about what Charles Gardner, senior research fellow at the Mercatus Center, calls “the great land use realignment.”

In addition to the zoning and code reforms already enacted in those 33 states, some 200 more bills have been introduced so far this year, he said. The measures—allowing accessory dwelling units, reducing minimum parking requirements, banning single-family-only zoning, increasing density at transit stations, and streamlining permitting—are getting support in red and blue states alike, including Utah, Texas, Montana, and Indiana.

“It’s a genuine groundswell,” Gardner said, comparing zoning reform efforts to the growth management movement of the 1970s that Fischel referenced. “We might look back on this as a transformative time.”

George Washington University’s Sara Bronin, founder of the National Zoning Atlas, said the first step is to figure out what’s actually in place in the 9,000-plus jurisdictions her team has studied. “We now have the receipts,” she said. “Zoning is here to stay. Our question is how do you make it better.”

But free-market libertarians don’t want to just tweak zoning—they’d rather see Euclid overturned. (Mind you, this was a symposium that handed out keychains with a plastic cut-out likeness of Milton Friedman.) Just like some believe all zoning is racist, these property rights defenders say all zoning can be seen as a regulatory taking in violation of the 5th Amendment (“nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation”).

The standard established in the 1978 case Penn Central Transportation v. City of New York is that regulation of land and property is permissible as long as it is reasonable. But an increasingly conservative Supreme Court has been expanding the definition of what constitutes a taking, in cases like Nollan v. California Coastal CommissionDolan v. City of Tigard, and Sheetz vs El Dorado County. A free-market dream would be a new legal challenge that would force local governments to broadly reimagine how they manage growth and development.

A seismic overturning may not be necessary. Legislative action is clearly prompting a major overhaul of Euclidian zoning, in a nice reflection of democracy’s push and pull. When it comes to land policy, a little fluidity is a virtue—an interplay between foundational principles and adjustments, given how times have changed. So keep the critiques of zoning coming. As a practical matter, a more perfect system awaits. It just might be a better version of everything in its place.


Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines.

Lead image: Kirkland Urban, a high-density, mixed-use development in Kirkland, Washington, where zoning reform has been a hot topic in recent elections. Credit: Colleen Michaels via iStock Editorial/Getty Images Plus.

Eventos

NPC 2026 Session: State Preemption for Housing—Benefit or Bane?

Mayo 28, 2026 | 3:30 p.m. - 4:30 p.m. (EDT, UTC-4)

Online, Channel 1

Offered in inglés

This session will be presented by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy at the American Planning Association’s National Planning Conference.

Increasingly, states are taking legislative action to preempt planning and zoning decisions by local governments. Sometimes this can pave the way for important planning initiatives, but it can also prevent cities from achieving their goals. Hear from a national land use law expert and planning directors from across the country about how state preemption is affecting local planning—for better and for worse.


Detalles

Fecha(s)
Mayo 28, 2026
Time
3:30 p.m. - 4:30 p.m. (EDT, UTC-4)
Location
Online, Channel 1
Idioma
inglés

Palabras clave

vivienda, planificación

Eventos

NPC 2026 Session: When the Cloud Drops—Planning for Data Centers

Abril 26, 2026 | 1:00 p.m. - 1:45 p.m. (EDT, UTC-4)

Detroit, MI United States

Offered in inglés

This session will be presented by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy at the American Planning Association’s National Planning Conference.

As the demand for digital infrastructure and artificial intelligence accelerates, communities are increasingly approached by data center operators seeking suitable sites. While marketed as drivers of economic growth, these facilities often carry significant costs that are not fully transparent during the siting process. Data centers require immense physical resources—land for large footprints, vast amounts of water for cooling, and energy that strains local grids—raising questions about sustainability and long-term resilience. They also may introduce frontline communities to new sources of pollution, increased truck traffic, and environmental justice concerns, yet these voices are often marginalized in opaque political and regulatory processes. Promised economic benefits, such as job creation and tax revenue, are frequently overstated or unevenly distributed, leaving cities to shoulder environmental burdens with limited community gain.

This presentation convenes a diverse panel to unpack complex planning challenges such as critically assessing data center proposals, advocating for accountability, and elevating community priorities. By examining the trade-offs of siting decisions through the lenses of resource management, equity, and governance, you will leave with practical strategies to question assumptions, navigate political opacity, and build stronger negotiating positions to ensure decisions genuinely serve the long-term interests of municipalities and their residents.

Resources:


Detalles

Fecha(s)
Abril 26, 2026
Time
1:00 p.m. - 1:45 p.m. (EDT, UTC-4)
Location
HPCC
Room 420AB
Detroit, MI United States
Idioma
inglés

Palabras clave

planificación de uso de suelo, planificación hídrica

Drenaje de datos: los impactos en el suelo y el agua del auge de la IA

Por Jon Gorey, Octubre 17, 2025

Un zumbido débil emerge desde lo profundo de una vasta tumba con luz tenue, cuyo ocupante devora energía y agua con un apetito voraz e inhumano. El centro de datos beige y rectangular es una especie de vampiro: pálido, inmortal, sediento. Resguardado de la luz del sol, activo toda la noche. Y, al igual que un vampiro, al menos según la tradición folclórica, solo puede entrar en un lugar si lo han invitado.

En los estados y condados de Estados Unidos, los legisladores no solo están abriendo la puerta a estos monstruos mecánicos metafóricos. Los están atrayendo de manera activa, con exenciones fiscales y otros incentivos, ansiosos por recaudar nuevos ingresos municipales y reclamar una parte del crecimiento explosivo que rodea a la inteligencia artificial.

Eso puede sonar hiperbólico, pero los centros de datos en verdad devoran recursos. Un centro de datos de tamaño mediano consume tanta agua como una ciudad pequeña, mientras que los más grandes requieren hasta 18,9 millones de litros de agua todos los días, la misma cantidad que una ciudad de 50.000 personas.

También se requiere una asombrosa cantidad de electricidad para alimentar y enfriar las filas de servidores. Un centro de datos convencional, como el almacenamiento en la nube para los documentos de trabajo que usamos a diario o la transmisión de videos, consume la misma cantidad de electricidad que entre 10.000 y 25.000 hogares, según la Agencia Internacional de Energía. Pero un centro de datos a “hiperescala” más nuevo y centrado en la IA puede usar la misma cantidad de energía que la equivalente a 100.000 hogares o más. Por ejemplo, se espera que el centro de datos Hyperion de Meta en Luisiana consuma más del doble de energía que toda la ciudad de Nueva Orleans una vez finalizado. Otro centro de datos de Meta, planificado en Wyoming, usará más electricidad que todos los hogares del estado combinados.

Y, por supuesto, a diferencia de las nubes reales, los centros de datos requieren suelo. Y mucho. Algunos de los centros de datos más grandes que se están construyendo hoy en día cubrirán cientos de hectáreas con acero impermeable, hormigón y superficies pavimentadas —suelos que ya no estarán disponibles para cultivo, naturaleza o vivienda— y también requerirán nuevos corredores de líneas de transmisión y otra infraestructura asociada.

Sin embargo, los centros de datos forman parte de nuestro paisaje construido desde hace más de una década; muchos de ellos están escondidos en discretos complejos de oficinas, desde donde procesan en silencio nuestras búsquedas en la web y almacenan las fotos de nuestros teléfonos celulares. Entonces, ¿por qué la preocupación repentina? Las herramientas de inteligencia artificial entrenadas con modelos de lenguaje de gran tamaño, como ChatGPT de Open AI, entre otras, utilizan exponencialmente más potencia informática que los servicios tradicionales en la nube. Y las empresas de tecnología más grandes, como Amazon, Meta, Google y Microsoft, están realizando inversiones rápidas y considerables en IA.

Entre 2018 y 2021, el número de centros de datos de EUA se duplicó con creces y, con el impulso de las inversiones en IA, ese número ya se ha duplicado de nuevo. Al principio del auge de la IA, en 2023, los centros de datos de EUA consumieron 176 teravatios-hora de electricidad, alrededor de la misma cantidad que toda la nación de Irlanda (cuya red eléctrica ya funciona casi a su máxima capacidad, lo que provoca que los centros de datos utilicen generadores contaminantes desconectados de la red), y se espera que este consumo se duplique o incluso se triplique tan pronto como en 2028.

Esta rápida proliferación puede ejercer una presión enorme sobre los recursos locales y regionales, cargas que muchas comunidades anfitrionas no tienen en cuenta en su totalidad o no están preparadas para afrontar.

“La demanda de centros de datos y procesamiento acaba de explotar de forma exponencial debido a la IA”, dice Kim Rueben, exasesora principal de sistemas fiscales del Instituto Lincoln de Políticas de Suelo. Explica que Virginia y Texas tienen, desde hace mucho tiempo, incentivos fiscales para atraer nuevos centros de datos, y “otros estados se están subiendo al tren” con la esperanza de ver crecimiento económico y nuevos ingresos fiscales.

Pero en una conferencia de Políticas de Suelo y Digitalización convocada por el Instituto Lincoln la primavera pasada, Rueben comparó la naturaleza extractiva de los centros de datos con las minas de carbón. “No creo que los lugares reconozcan todos los costos”, indica.

Sí, Virginia, los datos son reales

En la conferencia de prensa, Chris Miller, director ejecutivo del Piedmont Environmental Council (PEC, por sus siglas en inglés), explicó cómo alrededor dos tercios del tráfico mundial de Internet pasa por el norte de Virginia. La región ya alberga la concentración más densa de centros de datos en cualquier parte del mundo, con alrededor de 300 instalaciones en solo un puñado de condados. Ya se planifican o se están desarrollando docenas más, listas para consumir las tierras agrícolas, la energía y el agua disponibles en la región, atraídas por un incentivo estatal que permite que las empresas ahorren más de USD 130 millones en impuestos sobre las ventas y el uso cada año.

A pesar de la reducción de impuestos a nivel estatal, los centros de datos representan una contribución significativa para las arcas locales. En el condado de Loudon, que tiene más de 2,5 millones de metros cuadrados de espacio ocupado por centros de datos, los funcionarios esperan que los ingresos totales por impuestos a la propiedad recaudados de los centros de datos locales en el año fiscal 2025 se acerquen a los USD 900 millones, casi tanto como todo el presupuesto operativo del condado. La proporción de ingresos derivados de los centros de datos creció tanto que la junta de supervisores del condado está considerando ajustar la tasa impositiva para no depender tanto de una sola fuente.

Centros de datos existentes y planificados en el norte de Virginia. El estado recibió el apodo de “la capital mundial de los centros de datos”. Crédito: Piedmont Environmental Council.

Si bien muchas comunidades perciben a los centros de datos como una ventaja económica debido a los ingresos fiscales, las instalaciones en sí mismas no son grandes generadores de puestos de trabajo a largo plazo. La mayoría de los empleos que crean están enraizados en la construcción de los centros de datos y no en la operación continua y, por lo tanto, son temporales en su mayor parte.

Hace décadas, PEC apoyó parte del desarrollo de centros de datos en el norte de Virginia, comenta Julie Bolthouse, directora de políticas de suelo de PEC. Pero hubo cambios drásticos en la industria desde entonces. Por ejemplo, cuando AOL tenía su sede en lo que se conoce como Data Center Alley, el centro de datos de la empresa era una pequeña parte de unas instalaciones más grandes, “contaba con senderos peatonales alrededor, canchas de tenis, canchas de baloncesto… en su apogeo, la empresa tenía 5.300 empleados en el sitio”, relata Bolthouse. Las instalaciones se demolieron y se están construyendo tres grandes centros de datos en el lugar. “Hay una gran valla a su alrededor por motivos de seguridad, por lo que ahora está totalmente aislado de la comunidad, y solo va a dar empleo a entre 100 y 150 personas en el mismo terreno. Ahí está la diferencia”.

El uso de los servicios públicos también se volvió “masivo”, agrega Bolthouse. “Cada uno de esos edificios utiliza el equivalente al consumo de energía de una ciudad, por lo que hay enormes consecuencias para la infraestructura eléctrica de nuestras comunidades. Todas las líneas de transmisión que deben construirse, la expropiación para obtener la tierra a fin de instalar las líneas de transmisión, toda la infraestructura energética, las plantas de gas, los gasoductos que transportan el gas, la contaminación del aire asociada, los impactos climáticos relacionados con todo lo anterior”.

En todo el norte de Virginia, cada uno de los miles de generadores diésel in situ, que tienen el tamaño de un vagón de ferrocarril, emana vapores diésel, lo que crea problemas de calidad del aire. “No conozco otro uso del suelo que utilice tantos generadores como un centro de datos”, comenta Bolthouse. Y, si bien la clasificación oficial de dichos generadores es de energía de respaldo de emergencia, los centros de datos pueden utilizarlos para “satisfacer la demanda” durante 50 horas por vez, agrega. “A nivel local, el aire está muy contaminado. Es materia particulada y NOx [óxidos de nitrógeno], que afecta el crecimiento de los pulmones de los niños, puede provocar casos de asma y exacerbar las enfermedades cardíacas y otras enfermedades subyacentes en los adultos mayores”.

Y luego está la cuestión del agua.

“Como una pajita gigante de refresco”

En un estudio realizado por el Houston Advanced Research Center (HARC) y la Universidad de Houston, se descubrió que los centros de datos en Texas usarán 185.485 millones de litros de agua en 2025, y hasta 1,5 billones de litros en 2030. Eso equivaldría a un descenso en el nivel de agua del embalse más grande de los EUA (el lago Mead, de 63.500 hectáreas) de más de 4,88 metros en un año.

Cualquier persona que haya dejado su teléfono bajo la lluvia por accidente o lo haya dejado caer en un charco podría preguntarse cuál podría ser la relación entre un edificio lleno de delicados aparatos electrónicos costosos y millones de litros de agua. Es, en gran parte, para refrigeración. Al alimentarse con corriente eléctrica, los servidores pueden calentarse mucho, y la refrigeración por evaporación de la habitación es una de las formas más simples y baratas de evitar que los chips se sobrecalienten y dañen.

Sin embargo, eso significa que el agua no solo se usa para enfriar y luego se descarga como agua residual tratable: gran parte de ella se evapora en el proceso, ¡puf!

“Incluso si usan agua recuperada o reciclada, el agua ya no regresa al caudal base de los ríos y arroyos”, comenta Bolthouse. “El proceso tiene impactos ecológicos y problemas de suministro. Alguien siempre estará aguas abajo de la cuenca”. Washington, DC, por ejemplo, seguirá perdiendo el suministro de agua si los centros de datos del norte de Virginia utilizan agua reciclada o recuperada, porque esa agua no volverá al río Potomac. La refrigeración por evaporación también deja altas concentraciones de sales y otros contaminantes, agrega, lo que crea problemas en la calidad del agua.

Existen formas de enfriar los centros de datos que utilizan menos cantidad de agua, incluidos los sistemas de agua de circuito cerrado, que requieren más electricidad, y la refrigeración por inmersión, en la que los servidores se sumergen en un baño de líquido, como un aceite sintético, que conduce el calor, pero no la electricidad. La refrigeración por inmersión también permite una instalación más densa de los servidores, pero aún no se utiliza ampliamente, en gran parte debido al costo.

Resulta irónico, pero puede ser difícil confirmar datos específicos sobre los centros de datos. Dada la condición de propiedad exclusiva de la tecnología de IA y, tal vez, la posible reacción pública, muchas empresas no son muy comunicativas sobre la cantidad de agua que consumen sus centros de datos. Google, por su parte, informó haber utilizado más de 18.900 millones de litros de agua en todos sus centros de datos en 2023, y el 31 por ciento de sus extracciones de agua dulce proviene de cuencas con mediana o alta escasez de agua.

Un estudio de 2023 realizado por la Universidad de California en Riverside estimó que una sesión de chat de IA de alrededor de 20 consultas consume hasta una botella de agua dulce. Esa cantidad puede variar según la plataforma, con modelos más sofisticados que exigen mayores volúmenes de agua, mientras que otras estimaciones sugieren que podría estar más cerca de unas pocas cucharadas por consulta.

“Pero lo que no se reconoce, desde la perspectiva de los sistemas naturales, es que toda el agua es local”, comenta Peter Colohan, director de asociaciones e innovación de programas del Instituto Lincoln, quien ayudó a crear el Internet of Water (Internet del Agua). “Es una pequeña cantidad de agua para un par de consultas, pero todo se toma de una cuenca cercana a ese centro de datos, es decir, miles y miles de litros de agua que se extraen de un solo lugar porque personas de todo el mundo realizan sus consultas de IA”, dice.

“Donde sea que elijan poner un centro de datos, es como una pajita gigante de refresco que absorbe agua de esa cuenca”, continúa Colohan. “Y, cuando se toma agua de un lugar, se debe reducir la demanda o reponer el agua en ese mismo lugar: no hay otra solución. En algunos casos, al menos, los principales desarrolladores de centros de datos comenzaron a reconocer este problema y participan activamente en la reposición de agua donde es necesario”.

Ubicar los centros de datos en regiones más frías y húmedas puede ayudar a reducir la cantidad de agua que utilizan y el impacto de las extracciones de agua dulce. Sin embargo, alrededor de dos tercios de los centros de datos construidos desde 2022 se ubicaron en regiones con escasez de agua, según un análisis de Bloomberg News, que incluyen climas cálidos y secos como Arizona.

Sistema de refrigeración de agua tibia en un centro de datos de Sandia Labs en Albuquerque, Nuevo México. El centro de datos obtuvo la certificación LEED Gold por eficiencia en 2020. Crédito: Bret Latter/Sandia Labs vía Flickr CC.

No es solo enfriar las salas de servidores y los chips lo que consume agua. Casi la mitad de la electricidad que utilizan los centros de datos de EUA en la actualidad proviene de centrales eléctricas de combustibles fósiles, que, a su vez, utilizan mucha agua, ya que calientan vapor para encender las enormes turbinas.

¿Y qué ocurre con los millones de microchips que procesan toda esa información? Para cuando llegan a un centro de datos, cada chip ya ha consumido miles de litros de agua. La fabricación de estos pequeños y potentes componentes informáticos requiere agua tratada “ultrapura” para enjuagar los residuos de silicio sin dañar los chips. Se necesitan alrededor de 5,6 litros de agua del grifo para producir 3,8 litros de agua ultrapura, y una típica fábrica de chips utiliza alrededor de 37,8 millones de litros de agua ultrapura a diario, según el Foro Económico Mundial, lo que equivale a 33.000 hogares estadounidenses.


A medida que las comunidades consideran los beneficios y riesgos del desarrollo de los centros de datos, los consumidores podríamos tener en cuenta nuestro propio papel en el crecimiento de los centros de datos, y si nuestro uso de la IA vale el precio del agua, la energía y el suelo que devora.

Podría haber usos importantes de la inteligencia artificial, si se puede aprovechar, por ejemplo, para resolver problemas complejos o para mejorar la eficiencia de los sistemas de agua y las redes eléctricas.

También existen otros usos claramente superfluos. Por ejemplo, un canal de YouTube con 35 millones de suscriptores presenta videos musicales generados por IA… de canciones generadas por IA. La MIT Technology Review estima que, a diferencia de las consultas de texto simples, el uso de IA para crear contenido de video consume una cantidad extrema de recursos: hacer un video generado por IA de cinco segundos consume casi tanta electricidad como hacer funcionar un microondas sin parar durante más de una hora.

Los defensores de los centros de datos tienden a señalar el hecho de que los estadounidenses usan más agua cada año para regar campos de golf (más de 1,89 billones de litros) y césped (más de 7,57 billones de litros) que los centros de datos de IA. Sin embargo, ese argumento suena falso: Estados Unidos tiene una conocida obsesión con el césped verde que tampoco colabora. La solución, dicen los expertos en agua, radica en la conservación del agua y la educación del consumidor, no en la comparación de un derroche con otro.


 

Priorizar un recurso limitado

Incluso un pequeño centro de datos puede suponer una carga inmensa y concentrada para la infraestructura local y los recursos naturales. En el condado de Newton, Georgia, un centro de datos de Meta que se inauguró en 2018 utiliza 1,89 millones de litros de agua por día, el 10 por ciento del consumo de agua de todo el condado. Y dada la energía barata de Georgia y las generosas exenciones fiscales estatales, el condado de Newton continúa otorgando solicitudes de nuevos permisos de centros de datos, algunos de los cuales usarían hasta 22,71 millones de litros de agua por día, más del doble de lo que todo el condado consume en la actualidad.

Las intensas demandas que los centros de datos imponen a los recursos regionales complican la toma de decisiones a nivel local. Las comunidades y los funcionarios regionales del agua deben participar en debates sobre los centros de datos desde el principio con una comprensión coordinada y holística de los recursos existentes y los posibles impactos en la red de energía y la cuenca, indica Mary Ann Dickinson, directora de políticas de suelo y agua del Instituto Lincoln. “Nos gustaría ayudar a las comunidades a tomar decisiones más inteligentes sobre los centros de datos, ayudándolas a analizar y planificar los posibles impactos en sus estructuras y sistemas comunitarios”.

“El agua suele ser una de las últimas cuestiones en las que se piensa, por lo que en verdad estamos promoviendo la participación temprana, entre otras cuestiones”, comenta John Hernon, gerente de desarrollo estratégico de Thames Water en el Reino Unido. “Cuando piensa en los centros de datos, no se trata solo de la velocidad que se obtendrá, no se trata solo de asegurarse de que haya mucha energía disponible, sino que es necesario garantizar que el agua se tenga en cuenta lo antes posible… en primer lugar y no como una idea de último momento”.

A pesar de su reputación húmeda, Londres no recibe mucha lluvia en comparación con el norte del Reino Unido: menos de 635 mm al año, en promedio, o cerca de la mitad de lo que cae en la ciudad de Nueva York. Sin embargo, debido a que gran parte del crecimiento se centra en Londres, el área de servicio de Thames Water alberga alrededor del 80 por ciento de los centros de datos del Reino Unido, agrega Hernon, y se proponen alrededor de 100 más.

Además, el consumo de agua alcanza su punto máximo durante las épocas más calurosas y secas del año, cuando la empresa de servicios públicos tiene la menor capacidad para satisfacer la demanda adicional. “Por eso hablamos de restringir, reducir u objetar [los centros de datos]”, indica Hernon. “No es porque no nos gusten. Es clarísimo, nosotros también los necesitamos. La IA será una ayuda enorme para nuestro centro de llamadas… lo que significa que podemos poner más personas a arreglar fugas y administrar nuestras redes con proactividad”.

Mantener las luces encendidas

Una forma de que los centros de datos usen menos agua es depender más de la tecnología de refrigeración por aire, pero esto requiere más energía y, a su vez, puede aumentar el uso de agua en forma indirecta, según la fuente de energía. Además, las redes regionales ya tienen problemas para satisfacer la demanda de este tipo de instalaciones sedientas de energía, y hay cientos más en proceso. “Se anunciaron muchos de estos proyectos, pero no queda claro qué fuente de energía puede surgir lo bastante rápido como para alimentarlos”, comenta Kelly T. Sanders, profesora adjunta de Ingeniería en la Universidad del Sur de California.

El gobierno quiere que las empresas de tecnología estadounidenses construyan sus centros de datos de IA en el territorio nacional, no solo por razones económicas, sino también por motivos de seguridad nacional. Pero incluso cuando la gestión de Trump parece comprender las enormes demandas energéticas que los centros de datos impondrán a la red eléctrica, ha aplastado activamente nuevos proyectos de energía eólica, como Revolution Wind frente a la costa de Rhode Island.

El Laboratorio Nacional de Energía Renovable (NREL, por sus siglas en inglés) creó este mapa superpuesto de líneas de transmisión y ubicaciones de centros de datos para “ayudar a visualizar la superposición y simplificar la planificación del cosistema”. Crédito: NREL.gov.

Otras alternativas libres de carbono, como los pequeños reactores modulares (SMR, por sus siglas en inglés) y la energía geotérmica, tienen apoyo bipartidista, comenta Sanders. “Pero el problema es que, incluso si comienza a construir un SMR hoy, el proceso llevará 10 años”, agrega. “Las fuentes con las que podemos contar más rápido son el viento, la energía solar y las baterías. Pero en los últimos seis meses perdimos muchos de los incentivos para la energía limpia, y se libró una guerra contra lo eólico. Se están cancelando proyectos eólicos que ya están construidos y pagados. Y me parece peculiar porque esa es la electricidad que pronto estaría lista para salir a la red, en algunas de estas regiones que están muy congestionadas”.

Los centros de datos se encuentran entre las razones por las que los contribuyentes de todo el país han visto aumentar sus facturas de electricidad al doble de la tasa de inflación en el último año. Parte de eso tiene que ver con la nueva infraestructura que requerirán los centros de datos, como nuevas plantas de energía, líneas de transmisión u otras inversiones. Esos costos, así como el mantenimiento y las actualizaciones continuas de la red, suelen ser costos compartidos entre todos los clientes de electricidad en un área de servicio a través de cargos agregados a las facturas de servicios públicos.

Esto crea, como mínimo, dos problemas: si bien los ingresos fiscales de un nuevo centro de datos solo beneficiarán a la comunidad anfitriona, toda el área de servicio eléctrico debe pagar la infraestructura asociada. En segundo lugar, si una empresa de servicios públicos realiza esa gran inversión, pero el centro de datos, en algún momento, cierra o necesita mucha menos electricidad de la proyectada, son los contribuyentes quienes pagarán la factura, no el centro de datos.

Algunas empresas de tecnología aseguran su propia energía limpia independiente de la red: Microsoft, por ejemplo, firmó un acuerdo de 20 años para comprar energía de manera directa a la planta nuclear de Three Mile Island. Pero ese enfoque tampoco es ideal, indica Sanders. “De todos modos, estos centros de datos utilizarán líneas de transmisión y todos los activos de la red, pero si no están comprando la electricidad de la empresa de servicios públicos, no están pagando toda esa infraestructura a través de las facturas”, agrega.

Además de generar nueva energía, explica Sanders, existen estrategias para exprimir más capacidad de la red existente. “Una de ellas es la vieja y confiable eficiencia energética, y los propios centros de datos tienen todos los incentivos alineados para tratar de hacer que sus procesos sean más eficientes”, comenta. La IA en sí misma también podría ayudar a mejorar el rendimiento de la red. “Podemos usar la inteligencia artificial para obtener más información sobre cómo fluye la energía a través de la red, y así podemos optimizar ese flujo de energía, lo que nos puede dar más capacidad de la que tendríamos de otra manera”, agrega Sanders.

Otra estrategia es hacer que la red sea más flexible. La mayoría de las veces y en la mayoría de las regiones de los EUA, solo usamos alrededor del 40 por ciento de la capacidad total de la red, explica Sanders grosso modo. “Construimos la capacidad de la red para que pueda soportar la demanda en el día más caluroso… y ahí es donde nos preocupamos por estas grandes cargas de los centros de datos”, indica. Sin embargo, una red coordinada de baterías, incluso en los hogares de las personas y los vehículos eléctricos, puede agregar flexibilidad y estabilizar la red durante los momentos de mayor demanda. En julio, Pacific Gas and Electric Company (PG&E) de California realizó la prueba más grande jamás realizada de su “planta de energía virtual” para todo el estado y utilizó baterías residenciales para suministrar 535 megavatios de energía a la red durante dos horas completas al atardecer.

Con cierta planificación intencional y coordinada (“no sucederá de forma natural”, comenta Sanders) puede ser posible agregar más capacidad sin requerir gran cantidad nueva de generación si los centros de datos logran reducir la carga de trabajo durante las horas pico e invertir en baterías de respaldo a gran escala: “Existe un escenario en el que estos centros de datos pueden cumplir un buen papel respecto de la red y agregar más flexibilidad”.

Enfrentar las concesiones con las políticas de suelo

A medida que crece la demanda de centros de datos, la búsqueda de ubicaciones adecuadas para estas instalaciones obligará a las comunidades a enfrentar un sinfín de elecciones injustas entre el agua, la energía, el suelo, el dinero, la salud y el clima. “La planificación integrada del uso del suelo, con prácticas sostenibles de suelo, agua y energía, es la única forma en que podemos lograr, de manera sostenible, el círculo virtuoso necesario para cosechar los beneficios de la IA y el crecimiento económico asociado”, indica Colohan.

Por ejemplo, usar gas natural para satisfacer la carga de electricidad anticipada de los centros de datos de Texas requeriría 50 veces más agua que usar energía solar, según el estudio de HARC, y 1.000 veces más agua que viento. Pero si bien la alimentación de nuevos centros de datos con parques eólicos consumiría la menor cantidad de agua, también requeriría la mayor cantidad de suelo: cuatro veces más suelo que la generación solar y 42 veces más que el gas natural.

A falta de una avalancha de energía nueva y limpia, la mayoría de los centros de datos aportan grandes cantidades de gases de efecto invernadero a nuestras emisiones colectivas, en un momento en que la ciencia exige que los reduzcamos drásticamente para limitar los peores impactos del cambio climático. Los reguladores de Luisiana aprobaron en agosto planes para construir tres nuevas plantas de energía de gas para compensar la demanda de electricidad esperada del centro de datos de IA, Hyperion, de Meta.

A medida que las ciudades o los condados compiten entre sí para atraer centros de datos, las comunidades anfitrionas se llevarán los beneficios fiscales, pero los costos (la intensa demanda de agua, las facturas de electricidad más altas y la contaminación del aire de los generadores de respaldo) se repartirán a la región, incluso a áreas que no verán ningún nuevo ingreso fiscal.

Esa es una de las razones por las que los permisos de los centros de datos necesitan más supervisión estatal, comenta Bolthouse. “La única aprobación que en verdad tienen que obtener es de la localidad, y la localidad no tiene en cuenta los impactos regionales”, agrega. PEC también está impulsando la protección de los contribuyentes y los compromisos de sostenibilidad. “Queremos asegurarnos de fomentar las prácticas más eficientes y sostenibles dentro de la industria, y exigir mitigación cuando no se pueden evitar los impactos”.

¿Demasiado cerca para ser cómodo? Un centro de datos colinda con casas en el condado de Loudoun, Virginia. Crédito: Hugh Kenny a través del Piedmont Environmental Council.

PEC y otras entidades también están ejerciendo presión para lograr una mayor transparencia de la industria. “Muy a menudo, la llegada de los centros de datos incluye acuerdos de confidencialidad”, dice Bolthouse. “Ocultan mucha información sobre el uso del agua y la energía, los impactos en la calidad del aire, las emisiones; ninguna de esa información se divulga, por lo que las comunidades en realidad no saben en qué se están metiendo”.

“Es necesario educar a las comunidades sobre lo que enfrentan y cuáles son sus concesiones cuando dejan entrar un centro de datos”, comenta Colohan. “¿Cuál es el costo real de un centro de datos? Y luego, ¿cómo convertir ese costo real en un beneficio a través de políticas de suelo integradas?”

Rueben explica que entiende el deseo de aprovechar una industria en crecimiento, en especial en las comunidades que experimentan la pérdida de población. Pero en lugar de competir entre sí para atraer centros de datos, agrega, las comunidades deberían tener conversaciones más amplias sobre el crecimiento del empleo y las estrategias de desarrollo económico, teniendo en cuenta los costos reales y las compensaciones que representan estas instalaciones, y pedir a las empresas que proporcionen más garantías y planes detallados.

“Obligar a los operadores de centros de datos a explicar cómo administrarán las instalaciones de manera más eficiente y de dónde obtendrán el agua, y no solo asumir que tienen prioridad en el acceso a los sistemas de agua y energía”, indica, “es un cambio de perspectiva que necesitamos que hagan los funcionarios del gobierno”.


Jon Gorey es redactor del Instituto Lincoln de Políticas de Suelo.

Imagen principal: instalaciones del centro de datos en el condado de Prince William, Virginia. El condado tiene 59 centros de datos en funcionamiento o en construcción. Crédito: Hugh Kenny a través del Piedmont Environmental Council.