How the Past Haunts the Present
“The only constant is change. Unless you get a small group of neighbors together to stop it.” —Heraclitus
In 1962, Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring¹ illuminated the profound consequences of pesticide use on both the natural world and human health, and in doing so, captured the nation’s imagination. Her meticulous research and unwavering conviction helped mobilize not just scientists, but also everyday people, urging them to take a stand against practices that threatened their environment. Carson’s work sparked a collective awakening, showing how groups of citizens—armed with knowledge, shared values, and a unified voice—could indeed compel governments to act. The grassroots movements that followed her book laid the foundation for environmental policies that continue to shape our world today.
However, as much as the 1960s and 1970s witnessed a flourishing of activism—whether through civil rights protests, environmental campaigns, or the women’s liberation movement—there is a curious irony that, over time, this same generation became responsible for some of the most paradoxical outcomes in modern American history. This was the same cohort that protested the war in Vietnam, fought for civil rights, and paved the way for the liberalization of American society. Yet, paradoxically, it was also this generation that, in the 1980s, elected Ronald Reagan—ushering in an era of conservative retrenchment, deregulation, and privatization.
In a tragic irony, the same people who once demanded social change, who “streaked the quad” in defiance of convention, and who marched for equality, later found themselves at the forefront of a new form of resistance—one that manifested in the fight against affordable housing, public development, and policies that could have addressed the pressing issues of inequality and environmental collapse. By the late 20th century, many of the same activists who fought for freedom and against oppression began, in some places, to fight against the very changes that might have alleviated the housing crisis, protected the environment, and created a more inclusive society.
This paradox reveals itself most sharply in the urban fabric of our cities today. While our collective yearning for a return to an idealized past and a fear of ‘progress’ continue to shape decisions at the neighborhood level, we find ourselves entangled in a crisis that is social, environmental, and financial in its scope—one in which NIMBYism, once rooted in noble intentions of preservation and protection (and also in dark themes such as racial exclusion), has now become a barrier to the very progress we need to heal our fractured cities and communities. This is apparent throughout the country, including here in Albuquerque, where the battle over urban development has reached a fever pitch.
The recent passage of Bill O-24-69 has laid bare this tension, starkly revealing the divide between those who cling to outdated visions of what a neighborhood should look like and those who are striving to build a city that is sustainable, equitable, and financially solvent. This bill, which proposed changes to zoning and development practices in certain areas of Albuquerque and began a process of amending neighborhood input, has ignited fierce resistance from local coalitions that view these efforts as a threat to their neighborhoods’ ‘character,’ – and their stranglehold on power. For many, the specter of new development—be it housing, infrastructure, or green spaces—feels like an erosion of what makes Albuquerque special. Yet, for others, the bill represents a crucial step forward, one that is necessary to address the city’s deepening housing crisis, combat environmental degradation, and create a future that provides opportunities for all.
In many ways, O-24-69 has become a microcosm of a larger struggle—a struggle not only for the future of Albuquerque but for the very soul of what kind of city we want to be. As the city grapples with mounting pressures to provide affordable housing and build a more resilient, sustainable infrastructure, the old guard clings to a narrative rooted in nostalgia, prioritizing the preservation of what is familiar over the changes necessary for a prosperous and equitable future. This debate resurrects themes that have shaped urban policy since the 1960s: developers cast as villains, neighborhood coalitions as noble defenders of local interests, and the just fight for local control as the ultimate good. These narratives, once grounded in authentic resistance to unchecked urban sprawl and displacement, now stand at odds with the reality of Albuquerque’s housing crisis and the urgent need for inclusivity and growth. Paradoxically, these “NIMBYs,” or “Neighborhood Defenders,” as they are more diplomatically referred to today, have evolved from their roots as challengers of inequitable development into unwitting—or, in some cases, knowing—agents of the very sprawl, social stagnation, and inequity they once opposed.
The demographic divides at the heart of this debate are striking, with age standing out as the most visible fault line. Studies, such as those by Katherine L. Einstein and her colleagues which we will explore later, have consistently shown that older generations disproportionately dominate these discussions, both locally and nationally. While age itself is not inherently determinative, it frequently correlates with wealth, homeownership, and a longer tenure in neighborhoods—factors that shape perspectives on development. Unfortunately, this dynamic often sidelines younger voices, renters, and those who face the greatest barriers to housing security. Acknowledging this divide is not about assigning blame but rather recognizing the structural inequalities that influence whose voices are amplified and whose needs are prioritized in shaping our built environment.
The most visible actors in this debate are a reflection of these contradictions. Those who once challenged the status quo as champions of their neighborhoods have, in many cases, become the status quo themselves—entrenched forces resisting change in the name of preservation. This tension reveals a deeper question: how do we reconcile the noble origins of neighborhood advocacy with the unintended consequences of its modern iteration, which often undermines efforts to address systemic inequities and environmental challenges? Will we allow these outdated paradigms to dictate our fate, or will we embrace a new vision of the built environment—one that prioritizes inclusivity, environmental stewardship, and economic sustainability for generations to come?
On Terminology: “NIMBY” vs. “Neighborhood Defender”
Throughout this exploration, we will often use the term “NIMBY” (Not In My Backyard) to describe the resistance to certain developments, despite a general theoretical acceptance of the need for change. While this term is sometimes viewed as pejorative, it remains widely recognized and understood, making it a practical choice for this discussion. That said, we also share the preference expressed by Katherine Levine Einstein2 and others for the term “Neighborhood Defender,” as it captures the motivations of those who genuinely seek to preserve their communities.
Einstein’s use of “Neighborhood Defender” is rooted in academic literature from the 1960s, which explored neighborhood groups resisting desegregation and changes to the status quo. While this term more clearly describes the actual actions of many of those resisting development today, it also highlights a paradox within these efforts: the seemingly noble defense of neighborhood character can often conceal less benign motivations, both consciously and unconsciously. As Einstein and others suggest, while the language of “preservation” and “community defense” may sound appealing, it can mask an underlying desire to exclude, perpetuate inequality, and resist social progress. Councilor Nichole Rogers, the first Black woman elected to the Albuquerque City Council and a single mother, poignantly captured the essence of this tension in her speech supporting O-24-69. In her remarks, Rogers identified the coded racism embedded in the rhetoric surrounding “neighborhood character,” drawing from her own lived experiences to demonstrate how such language is often wielded as a tool of exclusion³. She highlighted how these preservationist ideals—frequently invoked to resist housing initiatives aimed at fostering inclusivity—can inadvertently reinforce racial and economic divisions.
Rogers emphasized that the desires of neighborhoods to exclude certain housing types often translate into the exclusion of people like herself, underscoring the need to critically examine and deconstruct the concept of “neighborhood character.” She argued that such notions must be reevaluated so that individuals of all races, income levels, and lived experiences can have access to housing options near their workplaces, schools, and within a greater diversity of neighborhoods. Rogers’ comments illuminate the deep intersection between the rhetoric of preservation and the reality of inequity, urging us to reflect on how well-intentioned calls for preservation can, in practice, hinder progress toward a more just and inclusive city. This is a reflection we must keep in mind and meditate on as we explore this issue and the tensions that are present within it.
This piece will explore the complex dynamics of opposition to O-24-69, including the tropes and caricatures often associated with the term NIMBY. By examining these dynamics through this lens, we aim to highlight how theoretical support for inclusivity and development often unravels when specific projects are proposed. The article will engage with the voices of vocal critics, many of whom are intelligent and articulate, with real and valid concerns. However, these critics sometimes dismiss organizations that support the zoning changes, their broader national allies, and especially young people advocating for more inclusive development. This, too, is embodied in the NIMBY caricature and warrants thoughtful exploration.
Finally, while many of the individuals and groups referenced in this series hold valid perspectives, we will aim to anonymize names when appropriate. However, because much of this analysis draws from the public record, full anonymity may not always be possible. The aim here is not to vilify but to examine the broader patterns and implications of their stances within the context of Albuquerque’s pressing housing and equity challenges.
What This Series Will Explore
Over eight parts, this series will uncover the dynamics of Albuquerque’s current housing and zoning battles, showing how seemingly diverse forms of resistance—from homeowner coalitions to left-wing activist groups—often converge around a shared outcome: blocking new housing, concentrating development in already burdened areas, and preserving systems that benefit the few at the expense of the many.
Together, the series will explore:
- O-24-69 as an Inflection Point
A closer look at the zoning reform that has become a lightning rod—and what it reveals about the city’s future. - Environmentalism Turned Inward
How the language of sustainability has been used to justify suburban sprawl and block infill development. - The “Affordable Housing” Smokescreen
How procedural perfectionism and false demands for affordability delay real solutions. - Martineztown, GENM, and the Struggle to Move Forward
An intergenerational case study of a neighborhood at the crossroads of legacy, trauma, and the need for change. - The Gentrification Distraction
How leftist opposition to housing—often in the name of justice—ends up preserving inequality and scarcity. - Coalitions, Power, and the Myth of Representation
Why Albuquerque’s neighborhood associations and coalitions wield disproportionate influence—and how it distorts democratic governance. - What Comes Next
A vision for reform: transparency, equity, and a planning system that works for all Burqueños, not just those already at the table.
Throughout this series, we will engage with the arguments of Albuquerque’s most vocal NIMBYs—not to vilify, but to analyze the broader implications of their positions. Their influence is part of the public record, and it’s time we confront the reality of how that influence shapes the lives of others. If we want a city that is more affordable, more just, and more sustainable, we must first understand the barriers to getting there—and commit to building something better.
Update Note
These articles were written in the weeks following the passage of O-24-69, a watershed moment in Albuquerque’s housing and land use politics. The ordinance drew overwhelming public support—but also fierce opposition, often marked by derision, misinformation, and extreme rhetoric from more traditional neighborhood coalitions. O-24-69 didn’t just change zoning laws—it exposed a citywide reckoning around growth, equity, and power. The public reaction, from overwhelming support to extreme opposition, created a moment where long-simmering tensions finally boiled over. That energy became the spark for this project. Building a pro-growth, pro-equity, urbanist and YIMBY movement(s) in Albuquerque will require more work like this: accessible, critical, and grounded in both lived experience and research.
One thing that makes land use debates especially revealing is how they often defy our conventional political binaries. In this space, alliances shift, ideologies blur, and the usual labels of “left” and “right” lose their meaning. People who agree on broader political issues often find themselves bitterly divided on questions of zoning, housing, and development—while strange new coalitions emerge across traditional divides. The result is a chaotic, often emotionally charged landscape that can confuse outsiders and fracture coalitions unrelated to land use altogether.
While a few minor updates have been made since the original publication, the core arguments remain rooted in that period. We initially took these posts offline as the Reimagining Albuquerque site evolved, with the intention of restructuring the content to make it more accessible. What follows is a more digestible, serialized version of the original, presented as part of an ongoing effort to understand and shape a more inclusive, transparent, and vibrant Albuquerque by first understanding the currents that underlie NIMBYism, both nationally and at play in Albuquerque.
Outside of Albuquerque, one of the most exciting developments since this series was first written has been the publication of Abundance by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson. Though not directly cited in this project, we are thrilled to see many of the values and critiques expressed here gaining national visibility—reaching the New York Times bestseller list and helping to reframe the conversation on housing, growth, and opportunity, particularly within the context of Democratic Party politics and the general “left.” It’s a transformational shift—one that affirms the urgency of building cities where more people can thrive, challenges both past forms of NIMBYism and newer, left-coded forms of NIMBYism, and encourages us to work toward meaningful reforms rather than fall into fruitless stalemates. Here’s to hoping we can carry that momentum forward—and Reimagine Albuquerque, together.
- “Silent Spring” Rachel Carson, 1962
- “Neighborhood Defenders: Participatory Democracy and America’s Housing Crisis” – Katherine Levine Einstein, 2019
- Downtown Albuquerque News, January 8th, 2025, “Council cracks open single-family zones around city center, North Valley, Route 66”
Reimagining Albuquerque 
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