Ask a Bad Environmentalist #1
mojo dojo casa house
The following is a real question I received from a reader. Send your wacky, weird, philosophical questions about climate or the environment to paigeycurtis[at]gmail.com, or comment down below.
If large swaths of developed land need to be rewilded to decarbonize our cities, this may impact our living spaces.
How do we balance our need for privacy and comfort with potentially needing to reduce our housing footprint by living in smaller spaces? How do we take the space that some people have privately and distribute it more equitably for public use?
— Mojo Dojo Casa House
Dear Mojo Dojo –
When I opened this newsletter to reader questions, I expected people to ask things like: “Should I get a heat pump?” or “Why is Gen Z telling me to go vegan?” You know, simple stuff.
At statehouses across the country, a fresh crop of poli-sci grads are trapped in conference rooms trying to solve this problem. But I guess I’ll give it the ol’ college try.
It’s no secret that Americans suffer from BDE: big dwelling energy. On average, American houses and apartments are among the biggest in the world. You can thank post-WWII suburban sprawl, the invention of the automobile, and zoning laws that favored single-family homes for that.
“People think of space as part of American culture,” a reporter for The Atlantic wrote back in 2019. “Part of the American promise is that you can have more room.”
Thankfully, there are signs that the“bigger is better” housing trend is changing. Mansion taxes in cities like Los Angeles levied on homes sold for over $5 million quite literally sent celebrities running for the hills. And, some Martha’s Vineyard towns banned new home construction over a certain size, hoping to conserve the island’s “rural” feel. Mansion culture, it seems, might finally be on the way out. Which is a shame because MTV Cribs was a masterpiece.
Mojo Dojo astutely asked: “How do we take the space that some people have privately and distribute it more equitably?” Here too, we see some progress. My partner, an urban planning student, tried to explain land use policy several times, but I still don’t get it. (I’m convinced no one does).
But here’s how private lands can do some good: *Puts on thick-framed policy wonk glasses.*
The Land Back Movement: This Indigenous-led movement calls for the return of land, territories, and resources to Indigenous peoples. Conservation-focused land transfers to tribes have occurred in Oregon, New York, California, Maine, and more transfers could be on the way.
Conservation Easements: These are tax breaks to landowners in exchange for limitations on the development of their farms or natural lands. Landowners get to keep the land as it accrues value, while the land stores carbon and supports wildlife. Some are using easements to address the affordable housing crisis.
HOA policies to support native plants: You have probably heard homeowners complain about a bothersome force called the Homeowner’s Association. Most HOAs forbid homeowners from planting native species and other plants in place of a lawn. But, a new set of laws may make it easier to “rewild” your front yard.
At the heart of Mojo Dojo’s questions is a deeper one: How much living space do we really need to be happy? Especially if our desire for larger homes comes at a cost to the environment.
For a while, HGTV made me believe that I could be happy living with less. Tiny homes were deemed the wave of the future. I dreamt of living in a small cottage on land I purchased with some friends near a major city. I would wake up in my lofted bed that doubled as an ironing board/TV stand and no longer care about material things because I knew what was important: Experiences, relationships, self-actualization.
A few years ago, I tried to live out my tiny home fantasy in a city, by downsizing to a studio apartment. The unit was described as “a charming space with a warm, lived-in feel.” It should have said: “Instead of a kitchen you’ll have two hot plates perched on a peeling countertop. The lone jail cell window next to your twin bed overlooks a dumpster. Also, this apartment is $5,000 a month.” In reality, most urban dwellers already live in tiny homes, yet we’re paying big home prices.
My ideal amount of living space hovers between big enough to entertain the occasional guest, and separate enough to accommodate my misanthropy. While many people my age aspire to live in commune-style communities, I’ve yet to find anyone willing to forgo an independent lifestyle.
In the meantime, I look to the house next door to mine, which has an enviable backyard. Immaculate lawn, bountiful garden beds, and room for a full patio dining set. Its longtime owner was a Gatsby-like figure who hosted garden parties almost every weekend.
When the house was sold to a new owner, I watched, in horror, as the yard fell into disrepair. The grass overgrew into thick, prairie-like tufts, and the garden vegetables shriveled through the seasons.
“What a waste of a perfectly good backyard,” I muttered under my breath, searching my city’s deed records to find the monsters responsible for such decay.
Over time, more and more rabbits, squirrels, and birds flocked to the yard for its foraging potential, and it became a refuge for the creatures that needed it. Maybe my neighbors weren’t careless owners, but instead trying to “rewild” their private property. Like the free-loving elders before us, they were embracing a full bush.
