A small bungalow quietly sits behind a hedge on a drizzly spring morning in inner Northeast Portland, and another house is almost hidden behind the bungalow. You might pass it twice without noticing. That’s the whole point, in a way. The chair of the Oregon Land Conservation and Development Commission, Anyeley Hallovà, stops on the sidewalk and points it out with the air of someone who has given this kind of detail a lot of thought. Nestled in an old yard is a new house. In front, a garden. No neighborhood erasure, no demolition, and no bulldozers.
Since Governor Tom McCall enacted the most ambitious growth-management legislation in the nation fifty years ago, Oregon has been conducting a covert experiment. Even though the execution wasn’t easy, the basic logic was. Encircle each city with a line. Defend the outside world. Make the growth turn inward. The system would stifle supply and raise prices, according to critics at the time. Supporters claimed that the true threat was sprawl. As it happens, both were somewhat correct.
| Subject Profile | Details |
|---|---|
| Focus Region | Hood River and inner Northeast Portland, Oregon |
| Governing Body | Oregon Land Conservation and Development Commission |
| Current Chair | Anyeley Hallovà (first Black member) |
| System Founded | 1973, under Governor Tom McCall |
| Core Policy | Urban Growth Boundaries (UGBs) |
| Key Challenge | Severe housing shortage, among the worst in the U.S. |
| Reference Study | Dempsey, J.A. (2013), cited 133 times |
| Emerging Solution | Missing middle housing, duplexes, ADUs |
| Public Perception | Mixed: praised for open space, debated for affordability |
| Long-Term Goal | Housing equity for marginalized Oregonians |
More intriguing than either prediction is suggested by what’s happening in Portland and in smaller towns like Hood River. As you stroll through these communities, you get the impression that environmental preservation and affordability don’t always conflict. All they’re being asked to do is share the lot. Here’s a duplex. A cottage in the backyard. An eight-unit apartment building that is tastefully set back from the street to avoid overshadowing the bungalows next to it. Unlocking the potential of vacant land is what Hallovà refers to. Some refer to it as missing middle housing. According to researchers like Schechtman of the University of Oregon, these forms could covertly absorb a significant portion of demand without encroaching on farmland.
But the skepticism is justified. One of the worst housing shortages in the nation is still present in Oregon. The rent is harsh. Many families have been forced from their childhood neighborhoods. Land-use regulations cannot take full responsibility, but they also cannot be excluded from the discussion. Supply-side economists, such as those mentioned in 2018 legislative briefings, consistently come to the same uncomfortable conclusion: limiting the amount of housing that can be built without adding enough inside the line leaves people stranded.
Even so. You’ll understand why so many Oregonians are unwilling to give up the original vision if you drive an hour east to Hood River, where orchards continue to climb the hillsides toward Mount Hood. The farmland is unharmed. The woods continue to breathe. To be honest, the perspective helps you understand why McCall fought in the manner that he did.
It’s difficult to ignore how tense everything is. A state attempting to fulfill two commitments at once, neither of which are straightforward nor inexpensive. Hallovà thinks Oregon can take the lead in housing equity, just as it did in conservation. She might be correct. Perhaps the challenges of the next ten years are more profound than people realize. However, when you see a backyard house rise where a weed patch once stood, you begin to believe that the long-standing argument between green and growth was always a bad one. The more difficult question, which Oregon continues to address, is whether a community can develop without losing sight of its initial appeal to residents.
