Deep Dive – Climate Change Series
A gap exists between what municipal governments say about climate action and what they actually accomplish. This article is the second in an eight-part series exploring that reality.
Portland Aspires to be a Better Version of Itself; Halifax Pursues Growth for Growth’s Sake
Writer Edward Abbey once observed that “growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.” The remark is often quoted in environmental debates, yet it captures something fundamental about the economic strategies many cities now pursue.
Consider two historic port cities on the North Atlantic: Halifax, Nova Scotia, and Portland, Maine. Three decades ago, they shared much in common—compact maritime cities of comparable size with architecturally rich historic neighborhoods and commercial districts that gave each city a distinct sense of place. Today their development trajectories could hardly be more different.
At stake in these contrasting trajectories are two very different ideas about how cities should pursue prosperity. One model emphasizes rapid population expansion and the economic activity that follows—especially construction and real estate development. The other focuses on improving quality of place, preserving urban character, and fostering innovation as the basis for long-term growth. Halifax and Portland increasingly illustrate these competing philosophies in practice.
In recent years, Halifax has pursued rapid population expansion and large-scale construction, demolishing older buildings and replacing them with mid- and high-rise towers at a remarkable pace. As of mid-2024, Halifax had thirty-four high-rise buildings under construction—more per capita than any other city in North America. Portland has built just three high-rises over the past thirty years and has one in the planning stage.
These dramatically different outcomes reflect more than planning decisions. They reveal fundamentally different ideas about economic growth, urban development, and quality of life. They also have significant implications for climate policy—because the form cities choose to grow in can determine the scale of their emissions for decades to come.
Three decades ago, Halifax and Portland’s urban fabric shared things in common. Both were historic maritime cities at the edge of the North Atlantic with a mixture of buildings dating from the eighteenth, nineteenth, and early twentieth centuries.
Today, Halifax’s development model follows the high-rise, growth-driven urbanism associated with rapidly expanding global cities.
Between 2000 and 2020, Portland has aimed to be a better version of itself. Its national reputation grew as the city became an increasingly desirable place to live. More recently, planning and development decisions in Portland are threatening to mar some of this progress, but it is still objectively a world apart from Halifax.
So why the diverging outcomes? One major factor is that the civic cultures of Maine and Nova Scotia differ significantly from one another.
Portland: A Communitarian Culture with Engaged Citizens
Maine has what is called a communitarian culture, rooted in the state’s tradition of town meetings. In smaller communities, people gather to talk, debate, and vote on issues. Portland is too big to govern using town meetings, but the idea of citizen involvement is still relatively prominent. It is expected that community members will take part in public life. The pervasive attitude is that government is supposed to serve the people, not powerful private interests.
This has implications for the way urban planning and development works. Portland has twenty-seven different community organizations that it recognizes in their master plan. Eleven of these are neighborhood organizations. Each has its own board of directors, and they hold monthly meetings with residents. Most, like the Munjoy Hill Neighborhood Organization, have their own websites.
These organizations have worked with the city’s planning department on initiatives such as Portland’s city-wide master plan and revising their zoning ordinance. Getting people involved doesn’t mean everyone is happy with everything that goes on in their communities. Yet in Portland, many of the people I’d meet held informed views and possessed a sense of agency even as they heaped criticism on their municipal government. In Halifax, residents I’d known for years spoke of planning and development with an air of resignation, passivity, or indifference, often expressing the belief that decisions had already been made and that public participation was a sham.
Halifax: A “Governmentally Organized Town”
To gain insight into Halifax, we can go back to 1970 to find an assessment of its civic culture that remains strikingly relevant today. That year, the province brought in a team of twelve prominent “urban specialists” that included luminaries such as a former director of the Boston Redevelopment Authority. Seven members were American; five were Canadian.
Their assignment as outsiders was straightforward: assess the region and make recommendations that would help, as the sponsors said, “maximize and create the greatest growth and development.” Over five exhausting 19-hour days, the team met with groups representing business, government, and ordinary citizens. The process included a series of televised evening forums and quickly became what Associated Press journalist Ken Hartnett described as a “fascinating, conflict-ridden, week-long televised town hall.”
Soon, the team realized the situation was what Hartnett called an “opportunity of a lifetime.” Their frank assessments quickly put them at odds with established interests. They criticized the province’s “complacent” leadership and challenged those who appeared “smug about their own contributions to the society’s advancement.”
Their conclusions were blunt. Nova Scotians, they suggested, were still living amid the “debris of the British Empire.” Halifax itself was described as a “governmentally organized town” sitting in a province where the “economic process is completely riddled with political intervention.” Its economy, they argued, had long been distorted by the practice of subsidizing “non-viable enterprises.” Decision-making was “top down,” conducted through “authoritarian, bureaucratic, not very productive” systems. Too often, those in power seemed more concerned with “keeping industries and bureaucracies going” than with improving the well-being of ordinary citizens.
Yet one insight stood out above the rest. The panel had arrived in Nova Scotia expecting to offer strategies to speed up a “growth and development” agenda. Having experienced the historic city and met its residents, some on the team seriously questioned the wisdom of placing “annual growth rates and GDP in a position of absolute value.” They recognized Halifax had a charm of its own, and in doing so, they warned, “much would be lost.”
Pursuing growth for growth’s sake, they argued, would produce only “more traffic jams and pollution.” A better path required what they called a “quantum leap” toward a quality-of-life strategy built around research institutions, universities, arts, and culture. These elements, they noted, were interconnected: they “attract the sort of people who are at the heart and core of the footloose scientifically oriented industries that make for dynamic growth.” If Halifax could make a “commitment to building this kind of community,” they concluded, its “economic problems would be solved anyhow.”
Simply put, quality of place should trump blind growth.
Population Growth as an Economic Strategy
With the passage of time, Nova Scotia’s political economy remains essentially unchanged. In the past, governments supported marginally viable or polluting industries with subsidies. Today, a different strategy is used to stimulate economic activity: rapid population growth, achieved largely through mass immigration, which fuels construction and real estate development.
The scale of this shift becomes clear when you look at the numbers. In 2024, construction and real estate accounted for almost a quarter of the province’s GDP (23.3%). Taken together, they represent the largest sector of the economy.
The result is a relatively simple economic formula: increase the population quickly, and the economy appears to grow. Construction activity rises, real estate values increase, and GDP expands. Yet this kind of growth often says little about improvements in productivity, innovation, or the long-term well-being of residents.
All this is taking place in a province where roughly 63% of GDP is tied to government spending. The “authoritarian, bureaucratic” systems described decades ago remain in place, even as Nova Scotia’s per capita GDP continues to lag further behind that of the poorest U.S. state, Mississippi.
The “authoritarian, bureaucratic” systems described decades ago remain in place, even as Nova Scotia’s per capita GDP continues to lag behind that of the poorest U.S. state, Mississippi.
Support for mass immigration in Nova Scotia and Canada as a whole has been higher than in other countries. It’s become a part of Canada’s national identity in a country whose prime minister notably said, “One of the ways we define ourselves most easily is, well, we’re not American.”
And what better way to show this difference than by behaving as if borders matter less—especially when the U.S. is doing the opposite? Both federal and provincial governments can now bring in large numbers of foreign nationals on their own. Nova Scotia, for example, has a Department of Immigration and Population Growth, though it’s recently been quietly renamed after several fraudulent practices came to light.
Politicians in Nova Scotia from all parties have, in recent years, supported the goal of doubling the province’s population to 2 million by 2060. Because birth rates are low, achieving this target depends on sustained high levels of immigration.
They may well be on track to meet that goal, with most new residents settling in the Halifax metro area. It’s to become what Canadian supporters of mass immigration call a “mega-region.” Despite past warnings, pursuing economic expansion has long since trumped the pursuit of quality of life as a basis for economic prosperity.
Yet there is little evidence that rapidly expanding the population through programs such as the federal Temporary Foreign Worker Program or Nova Scotia’s payroll rebate scheme improves quality of life for either existing residents or many of the newcomers themselves.
In effect, this represents a relatively crude approach to economic growth—one that relies on population expansion and rising real estate values rather than improvements in productivity or innovation. The benefits tend to accrue disproportionately to those at the top of the economic pyramid. And it’s an approach that Maine, which has similar demographics, has not taken.
Like Nova Scotia, Maine has an aging population and has experienced sustained sluggish population growth. This was particularly the case between 2010 and 2019 when annual growth rates averaged a paltry 0.12 percent. Yet, in Maine, there’s no talk of immigration targets or doubling the state’s population. Discussions about economic growth focus on innovation and quality of life. As a result, outcomes in terms of population growth are vastly different.
“In 2023, Portland’s metropolitan population increased by just over 3,000 residents, reaching 566,329. By comparison, Halifax—starting from a slightly smaller base—added more than 19,000 people, climbing to 492,199. This means Halifax grew roughly seven times faster than Portland (4.1% versus 0.6%), underscoring the stark contrast in growth strategies.”
Canada’s political and cultural consensus in favor of high immigration levels has led governments at both the provincial and federal levels to pursue rapid population growth as an economic strategy. In Nova Scotia and across the country, the speed of this expansion has contributed to serious pressures on housing, healthcare systems, and public infrastructure.
For residents, these policy choices are not abstract. Over the past fifteen years, Halifax has experienced a rapid transformation of its built environment, as older wooden houses and low-rise commercial blocks give way to mid- and high-rise development. Traffic congestion, once virtually nonexistent, has increased dramatically as the metropolitan population expands and development spreads outward. These changes have profound implications for quality of life—an issue explored in greater detail in later essays in this series.
Portland’s Master Plan: A Statement of Community Values Focused on Quality of Life
Just fifty-three miles of ocean separates Maine and Nova Scotia at their closest point, yet they’re a world apart. To better understand the sharp cultural differences, let’s compare the master plans for Portland and Halifax, focusing on their values, urban design, and population growth. These differences shed light on mindsets that are, at their core, incompatible with each other.
Portland’s master plan is called Portland’s Plan 2030. Well written and easy to read, its single most important sentence is the one that says, “The plan is a statement of community values and a framework to advance those values.” Unlike many planning documents, it does not read like a government report and explicitly states that it is intended to be widely read by the community and easily understood. Residents actively participated in writing it, ensuring that their voices shaped the plan.
The “heart” of Portland’s Plan 2030 is the plan’s two-page vision statement. This vision reflects the communitarian culture I mentioned previously. An article in the Portland Press Herald written by resident Lisa Whited answers the question, Whose vision does Portland’s plan reflect?
Portland’s new comprehensive plan is by the community and for the community. It is not the vision of a singular person—not the mayor’s vision, the city manager’s vision, the planning director’s vision, or even the City Council’s vision. It is the city residents’ collective vision.
Portland resident Lisa Whited
Portland expresses its vision through thirty-one declarative, community-based statements, most beginning with “we,” as in “we the residents of Portland.” Maintaining and enhancing Portland’s “authenticity” is a central pillar theme, exemplified by statements such as, “We will maintain our character through preservation, innovation, and excellence in design for the built environment.”
Portland’s plan notes that the widespread success they’ve had to date with historic preservation has stimulated private investment. It’s a reference point for future development. The expectation among Portlanders is that today’s “city builders” will maintain Portland’s “authentic character” in a way that enables the city to “flourish.” Portland’s expectations regarding the quality and character of development are clearly stated.
On the street, Portland’s vision comes to life: restored brick facades, sunlit sidewalks lined with cafés, and new buildings that respect the scale of their historic neighbors. The city feels designed for people, inviting them to linger, connect, and move through spaces that tell a story.
Keeping Portland’s authenticity in mind, the plan focuses on how design, quality of life, and density are connected. So far, Portland has not pushed for density for density’s sake. Instead, their plan shows that density comes naturally from well-designed, people-friendly neighborhoods. The plan includes pictures of these kinds of developments to set clear expectations.
Halifax’s Master Plan: A Pronouncement of Government Intent Focused on Strategic Growth
The Halifax master plan is something entirely different. Referred to as the Centre Plan, its actual title is the Regional Centre Secondary Municipal Planning Strategy. Bureaucratic and cumbersome to read, it’s not an expression of community values or vision. It’s a pronouncement of government intent.1 The plan speaks of planning staff doing “extensive community engagement.” However, like much of the plan’s content, the language used here is performative and misleading. In reality, the government made all consequential decisions shaping development before they unveiled the plan to the public. It’s just as if they built a house and then let residents pick the curtains.
More than anything else, Halifax’s plan is organized around what it calls “strategic growth.” It’s the most prominent idea expressed in the document and a euphemism for using mass immigration to fuel development of a sort that maximizes emissions.
To better understand why strategic growth matters to those in power in Nova Scotia, we need to return to 1970. Recall the twelve outsiders tasked with providing recommendations on how to maximize strategic growth. The journalist I mentioned previously, Ken Hartnett, recorded their analysis for posterity. The publication is aptly titled, Documentary of a Community’s Week-Long Confrontation with Itself. In it, we learn the outsiders, “most of them men of international reputation,” found a society “dedicated to underachievement,” possessing a massive “inferiority complex.”2
In the present day, little has changed. Politicians and pundits in Nova Scotia talk about the need for “growth” to make Halifax the next “world-class city” or the “next Boston.” Media boosterism celebrates the municipality’s seemingly desperate need to be something that it currently is not.
In Maine, you won’t find expressions of aspirational desperation. This is despite, again, the state having the oldest population in the country and a sluggish population growth rate. Maine’s economic plan expresses trust in its people and takes a measured approach to population challenges. Like Iceland, Maine illustrates that it’s possible to do well economically with a stable population. While demographic challenges exist, Maine focuses on innovation, quality of life, and encouraging employers to make the case why people should come to them. What they don’t do is chase population growth to fuel an economy propped up by real estate development.
Halifax’s push for “strategic growth” comes, in part, from something that happened back in 2014. That year Nova Scotia’s government commissioned a report that delivered an alarmist warning about “accelerating population loss and economic decline.” The report told Nova Scotians they needed to change their mindset and direction. It also called for the provincial government to pursue “significantly higher rates” of immigration.3
Many in academia found the Nova Scotia report troubling and misleading. One critique noted that the report’s authors framed Nova Scotia’s circumstances as a catastrophe to heighten fear to ensure compliance with their “call to action.” The most prominent recommended action in the report was, notably, to embrace government-engineered mass immigration at the provincial level. It was sold as being the key that would unlock the door to untold prosperity. In keeping with Nova Scotia’s culture of top-down decision-making, politicians, the media, and the public at large all bought into the messaging.
One of the most noteworthy things about the report is that it does not mention climate change. It follows then that the relationship between significant population growth and emissions was never considered.
This brings us back to the use of the term strategic growth throughout Halifax’s master plan. The term refers to a policy of incentivizing the erasure of large swaths of the city and replacing older, historic buildings with larger mid- and high-rise towers. Rapid population growth gives Halifax’s plan its coherence. Without a continual stream of people continuing to come to Halifax to occupy space in all the new mid- and high-rise buildings going up, little in the plan makes economic sense.
These newcomers are furthering the government’s “stretch goal” of doubling the population to 2 million. In this model, population growth becomes an economic input. More people generate demand for housing, which fuels construction and real estate activity, allowing GDP to expand even if underlying productivity changes little.
Besides the environmental consequences of Nova Scotia’s implementation of “strategic growth,” there are also those social and environmental costs. Spiraling housing prices, a growing homeless population, record levels of child poverty, a healthcare crisis, and increasing traffic congestion that is now worse than all comparably sized U.S. cities are all byproducts of Halifax’s “plan.” The government’s response to a series of government-induced problems has been to double down and say the benefits of the “population boom” outweigh the “challenges.”
These benefits are said to be economic, yet the data does not support the claim. Aside from significantly increasing its population, Nova Scotia has failed to meet the economic targets it set for itself. The government had been tracking their targets on a site called OneNS.ca, which they took down in March 2025. Below is a search result for the now-defunct site.
The latest version of Nova Scotia’s dashboard showing the missed economic targets is at the Internet Archive. By this time, per capita GDP had slipped back to what it was nearly a decade earlier. Nova Scotia currently ranks behind all other Canadian provinces. Maine, whose per capita GDP was $63,117 in 2023, outperformed Nova Scotia’s figure of $41,727 USD. That’s a difference of $21,389 USD per person.
Culture Matters
Culturally speaking, Halifax remains the same governmentally organized town it was in 1970. The economic results speak for themselves. The innovation and creativity you find in Halifax exist despite the government’s policy of supercharging real estate development with government-engineered population growth. Not because of it.
Tellingly, “strategic growth” is not a term you will find in Portland’s plan. Conversely, “quality of life,” “authenticity,” and “excellence in architectural quality and urban design” are ideas not discussed in the Halifax plan. In the end, culture does matter. Emphasizing quality of place, as seen with Portland, has drawn skilled workers and entrepreneurs from Boston, NYC, and California. More people with education and higher-than-average earnings want to call Portland home.
In terms of affordability, Portland became a victim of its own success after two decades of careful planning and development. Residents and city officials alike understood that the well-being of the city was closely tied to the quality of its human-scale environments. They paid attention to space, placemaking, and architectural integrity, and for years this focus helped guide development in ways that reflected the community’s values.
Recent decisions—a taller tower, the loss of a notable historic building—suggest that even a city with strong planning principles can face pressures and make choices that contravene a clearly articulated community vision.
Looking ahead, Portland’s trajectory is less certain: the post-2020 emphasis on density over design, framed in terms of zones and corridors rather than human-scale standards, makes it unclear whether the city will continue to develop in ways that honor its historic commitment to quality and place.
To date, Portland has avoided the mistake of equating tearing down and densifying with progress. The city has more in common with Vienna than it does with Dubai. Whether it can sustain a vision of becoming a better version of itself, one built at the human scale, remains to be seen. As the remaining articles in this series will show, maintaining this balance carries real climate benefits—if it endures.
Up Next: Part 3 looks at the climate action plans produced by Portland and Halifax and answers the question, “To what degree does each municipality engage in virtue signaling?” Previously: Part 1, explained why municipalities are at the center of the climate crisis.
- In fact, the reader is told that material in the plan cannot be “properly understood” unless “read in the context of the whole document”, and 7 other government documents. ↩︎
- Urban Planning Professor Emeritus Jill Grant discuss Hartnett’s work, and the 1970 Encounter week in her book examining the cultural dimensions of planning titled, The Drama of Democracy: Contention and Dispute in Community Planning. (University of Toronto Press, 1994). ↩︎
- This message was being delivered at a time when influential lobbyists from Black Rock and McKinsey were in the initial stages of molding federal policy to triple Canada’s 2015 population of 35 million to over 100 million by end of century. ↩︎
