Introduction – Climate Change Series
A gap exists between what municipal governments say about climate action and what they actually accomplish. This article is the first in an eight-part series exploring that reality.
Many municipalities have climate action plans that suggest they are taking meaningful steps to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Boston says it is moving towards “net-zero carbon” for new buildings. Phoenix is making it easier to get permits for solar panels. Houston plans to offer more regional transportation options. Yet the reductions claimed by most of these initiatives are questionable at best.
In practice, most local governments still abide by the rule of perpetual urban sprawl. Few pursue four objectives required to transition to human-scale development, which lowers emissions relative to both suburban and high-rise development.
Every day, year after year, municipal officials across the United States and Canada decide how and where things are built. These decisions matter enormously: in aggregate, roughly 61% of CO₂ emissions stem from building construction, building operations, and personal transportation. These activities are largely shaped by municipal land-use decisions. The three charts below clarify the sources of these emissions.
These emissions cannot simply be eliminated. They are embedded in the built environment and transportation patterns that local governments have created over decades. Given the urgency surrounding global heating, however, municipalities could acknowledge a basic reality: expanding auto-dependency and building high-rises both produce more CO₂ emissions than human-scale development. Municipalities can act on this knowledge today by pursuing human-scale development patterns that deliver benefits beyond emissions reduction.
Per capita CO₂ emissions in the United States and Canada exceed those of most other countries. Emissions in both countries rose sharply beginning in the early 1950s, when suburban expansion accelerated and high-rise construction increased in many urban centers. Industry did not simply grow. Per capita fossil fuel consumption also increased as North American cities adopted a new land-use and mobility paradigm built around suburbs, highways, and automobile dependence.
Even after technological change and partial deindustrialization reduced per capita emissions after 1970, the North American lifestyle—largely shaped by land-use planning decisions made during that era—continues to drive high emissions. While these patterns were entrenched over decades, cities can still shift development toward lower-carbon, human-scale alternatives.
Organizations of all kinds claim to care about reducing emissions. This is especially true in local government. Local governments often publish climate action plans filled with aspirational language, yet lacking the objectives required to produce structural change. The end goal of producing human-scale design is rarely established, and the land-use decisions that shape emissions remain unchanged. Yet, if municipal planning decisions helped create today’s high-emissions development patterns, shouldn’t local governments be central to solving the problem?
This series aims to answer this question by looking at Halifax, Nova Scotia (Canada), and its closest comparable American city, Portland, Maine. Both illustrate, to different degrees, how local governments struggle to build desirable, affordable communities that encourage walking and biking for daily activities.
With its climate action plan, Halifax has invested heavily in in promoting itself as a leader among municipalities in the “fight against climate change.” Yet the evidence on the ground often tells a different story. For more than a decade, Halifax has pursued development practices at odds with research on emissions reduction, replacing human-scale neighborhoods with mid- and high-rise buildings while continuing to expand low-density, auto-dependent suburbs. Halifax therefore stands as a telling example of the gap between climate rhetoric and planning practice: these choices not only increase emissions but also erode the walkable environments that underpin livable communities.
By contrast, Portland’s record is more nuanced. Between 2000 and 2020, the municipality emphasized quality of life, pursuing human-scale development that reinforced the city’s identity. Through Portland’s urban design standards, architects were expected to design buildings that made good neighbors—respecting concerns such as building height, exterior materials, and window proportions. It’s widely recognized that these standards produce economic benefits.
In October 2020, Portland partnered with South Portland to complete a climate action plan that was more substantive and less performative than Halifax’s. Since then, however, Portland’s planners, planning board, and council have made at least a few decisions—such as approving a 30-story tower and allowing the demolition of a historic landmark—that contradict both climate goals and the community vision in their master plan.
The paths Halifax and Portland have taken over the past two decades reveal two things. First, they show how a municipality can serve as a bad actor while flaunting inconsequential steps to reduce emissions. That’s the Canadian story. Second, they illustrate how planning culture can evolve or erode, giving rise to contradictions that undermine stated commitments. That’s the American story. To understand these divergent paths, we must first examine the cultural differences. That is where we turn next.
Next Up: In Part 2 of this series, we’ll look at how culture shapes climate rhetoric and reality, comparing Halifax, Nova Scotia with its comparable American neighbor, Portland Maine.
