Yes, Philly needs more affordable housing. Historic districts aren’t the problem.

After years of showing out-of-town visitors around Philadelphia, I’ve developed what I consider the perfect introductory tour of the city.

It starts in Old City, usually near the foot of Market Street, meanders west along the gentle blocks of Society Hill, Washington Square West and Rittenhouse Square, and concludes (assuming my guests have the stamina) across the Schuylkill River in the dazzling Victorian streetcar “suburb” of Spruce Hill.

What makes the four-mile trek such a hit is that it’s literally a walk through time, tracing more than 300 years of Philadelphia history and architecture.

There is probably no other American city where you could give such a comprehensive, chronological tour. Although plenty has changed here, many streets still look largely the same as they did when they were built, despite decades of neglect and hostile urban renewal policies. These remarkable architectural ensembles survive for one simple reason: Most of my route is located within city-protected historic districts.

Most, but not all. Both Washington Square and Spruce Hill have been repeatedly denied formal designation over the last 30 years for a variety of political and procedural reasons.

But it looks as if the Historical Commission could finally give the two neighborhoods the protection they deserve. Painstakingly vetted by historians, the districts have received strong support from the local civic groups and the Preservation Alliance, a nonprofit advocacy group. Yet, despite that consensus-building, there is a lurking concern that the commission will once again get cold feet when it meets July 12.

The commission hasn’t approved a major historic district along my tour route since Old City was certified in 2003. All the others were all created in the 1990s, when Philadelphia’s economic viability was often in doubt. The city, which was teetering on bankruptcy, was still hemorrhaging population, and almost no new buildings were being constructed. But residents and businesses believed that historic districts could be a stabilizing force and urged the commission to approve the nominations.

Philadelphia has made a remarkable recovery since then, partly thanks to that preservation effort. Yet, strangely, the reception to the proposed districts is much cooler today.

Instead of welcoming new districts, pro-development advocates — mainly the Building Industry Association and 5th Square — are trying to convince the Historical Commission to reject the Washington Square and Spruce Hill designations. They claim that historic districts drive up housing prices by limiting teardowns and new construction. At a time when both low-income workers and college-educated professionals often struggle to find housing they can afford, they argue that approving the districts now would be a grave mistake.

The BIA and 5th Square are right to be concerned about Philadelphia’s affordability. While buying a house in Philadelphia is still considerably cheaper than in other East Coast cities, prices here have been rising, especially for renters.

But there is no credible evidence showing that historic preservation is the reason Philadelphia has become more expensive.

If you look at housing prices over time, you’ll see they’ve increased across the city, in rich neighborhoods and poor ones, in designated historic districts such as Rittenhouse-Fitler and former working-class rowhouse areas such as Fishtown and East Passyunk. It’s certainly true that homes are often more expensive in Rittenhouse Square than in other neighborhoods. But house prices are determined by a slew of variables, including location, zoning, land prices, proximity to transit, house size and public schools — not to mention status.

It’s not as if the Rittenhouse-Fitler neighborhood has been frozen in amber. Since it was declared a historic district in 1995, developers have erected several new residential towers near the square. They’ve replaced parking garages and small undistinguished buildings with townhouses and added extra floors to historic structures. As a result, the neighborhood’s main zip code — 19103 — saw its population increase by 20% between 2000 and 2022.

The story is much the same in Old City. According to figures provided by the Old City District — a business group — the population has quadrupled to 8,000 since the historic district was created in 2003. By contrast, the population in the adjacent Northern Liberties neighborhood, which is not historically protected, has merely doubled in the same period.

Pro-development advocates or Yimbys — as in, “Yes, in my backyard” — often insist that historic preservation leads to gentrification. But, again, studies from other cities show no correlation. NYU’s Furman Center, which tracks real estate trends, found that Brooklyn’s Williamsburg/Greenpoint neighborhood had the steepest rent increases in the borough, despite having a relatively small stock of landmark buildings. Meanwhile, a Boston broker for Coldwell Banker makes a point of warning clients that homes in historic districts can sell for less than comparable ones in other neighborhoods.

Even when Philadelphia has tried to use historic preservation to juice new development, it hasn’t necessarily worked out, the director of the Preservation Alliance, Paul Steinke, points out. It’s been almost 40 years since North Philadelphia’s West Diamond Street became the city’s first historic district, and yet that elegant corridor is still, sadly, studded with vacant lots.

So why has historic preservation become such a boogeyman, then?

There’s no doubt that historic districts impose an extra layer of regulation that can slow down the permitting process for new development. Under Philadelphia’s preservation law, property owners need to obtain Historical Commission approval before they can make major changes to the exteriors of their buildings. For really big projects, that may require a public hearing.

The BIA strongly objects to this additional oversight. In a written statement provided by president Mo Rushdy, the group argued that the process is “undemocratic and unfair.”

“Anyone, anywhere in the world can nominate a building” for the city’s historic register, the statement continued, and during the review period, it noted, the property owner is prohibited from making changes to the exterior.

Of course, they are. What would be the point of reviewing a nomination if an owner was free to demolish the building while the outcome was being decided?

It’s not just developers who bristle at the system. Homeowners also complain about the extra costs that come with being in a historic district. The commission requires them to follow strict historic guidelines when they renovate. Although the rules apply only to the exterior, property owners may have to purchase costly materials or use more expensive construction methods.

I’ve been there. When I was renovating my rowhouse, I needed the commission’s approval to make a modest tweak to my front windows. The change was barely noticeable and easily reversible, yet I still had to appear before the commission to argue my case.

Ultimately, my request was approved. Was the extra hurdle annoying? Sure. But I am still grateful to live in a neighborhood where design changes are governed by a thoughtful process. It’s a complex world, and I accept that regulation is a necessary part of the social contract, especially when you share a party wall with your neighbor.

Most people don’t realize that not all historic district buildings are subjected to the same level of oversight. Each structure is sorted according to its importance into one of three tiers: significant, contributing, and non-contributing. Those labeled non-contributing can usually be replaced.

Parking lots are also fair game for new construction. The commission allows exemptions for property owners who are unable to afford the required repairs, while developers have often been allowed to demolish designated buildings after showing that the cost of repair would be excessive.

We know, of course, that some neighborhoods do use historic preservation as a weapon to stop new development, and that’s wrong. Cities evolve, and their needs change. Yet these old neighborhoods are part of our shared heritage that define our identity as Philadelphians. What historic districts can do is maintain the balance between old and new.

Still, I agree with the Yimbys that we need to build new housing to keep prices in check. Since the goal is maintaining a balance, perhaps there are policy changes the city could make to offset the cost of added regulation that comes with historic districts.

Pressed by the BIA, the commission has agreed to waive a rule requiring developers to conduct expensive archaeological surveys before building on vacant lots in Washington Square. But they could go further. Why not eliminate parking requirements for all new construction in historic districts, since building garages is so expensive? After all, most historic neighborhoods came into being before the automobile.

What really stymies new construction in Philadelphia isn’t historic preservation; it’s zoning, especially the process of applying for a variance. What if the city reviewed all the potential building sites — the vacant lots and non-contributing buildings — in historic districts to correct zoning irregularities and eliminate the need for variances?

Yes, there will be squawking. Parking is the third rail of Philly politics. But allowing these changes would be a sign of good faith, proof that preservation isn’t about exclusion.

Preservation isn’t just about pretty buildings, either. When I guide my guests through Washington Square, I remind them that we’re walking in the steps of such people as Octavius Catto, the civil rights leader who grew up in the storied Seventh Ward (and was murdered on South Street). I take them down Camac Street, the main street for Philadelphia’s LGBQT community. I like to point out that elites such as J. Gardner Cassatt — Mary’s brother — and Henry Minton, a wealthy Black businessman, both kept elegant townhouses in the neighborhood. So did Philadelphia’s great 20th-century architect Louis Kahn.

Plenty of books have chronicled their history. But seeing where they lived and worked makes it real. We shouldn’t have to choose between our cultural heritage and affordable housing. A well-managed historic district can ensure we have both.