As dense as Toronto may be, it’s not nearly dense enough.

Compared to many big cities, Toronto is one of the least intensely populated urban centres in the world. New York, for example, comes in at about 11,000 people per square kilometre. Hong Kong has a staggering 26,000. Toronto weighs in at a mere 4,500. Many residents — probably most — like it that way. For them, density conjures up images of tall towers, teeming streets and terrible traffic.

But guess what? Toronto has already reached that point. By trying to have it both ways, this city has become a place where inhabitants contend with the worst of both worlds. Lack of density has exacerbated the affordability crisis and encouraged sprawl. On the other hand, even the middling densities of an auto-dependant region like the GTA mean some of the worst — some say the worst — congestion in North America.

Damned when we did. Damned when we didn’t.

Though density is a prerequisite to the economic, social, cultural critical mass that underlies urban success, this increasingly suburban-minded city remains deeply ambivalent about whether density is really what it wants. In a NIMBY stronghold like Toronto, density is fine as long as it’s somewhere else. That’s reflected in the Official Plan, which declares neighbourhoods sacrosanct, and restricts growth to the “avenues,” designated main streets deemed appropriate for development.

But even the most dispersed lowrise neighbourhoods can be densified through the power of zoning. Basement apartments, granny flats, rooming houses and the like have been around for decades. Yet the glass bead game of rules and regulations has reached the point where few can say with certainty what’s allowed and what isn’t. Basement apartments, for example, have been legal since 2000 but the house must be more than five years old with ceilings more than six feet, five inches tall, etc., etc, etc. Rooming houses are OK, but only in parts of “old” Toronto. Granny flats are fine — if they’re in the right location.

The argument against secondary suites is that they might change the character of a neighbourhood. But change happens regardless. Parkdale, for example, started as an upper-middle-class neighbourhood in the late 1800s, then became a low-income enclave in the ’50s. Now, the gentrifying forces have arrived to reclaim what’s theirs.

On the other hand, the recent legalization of laneway housing in Toronto and East York will help people find a home. In a city with 300 kilometres of alleys, the impact could be significant. Working with the city’s housing advocate, Councillor Ana Bailao, local organizations Evergreen and Lanescape managed to convince civic decision-makers by arguing for a new kind of housing in which power, sewer, water, gas, etc. come from the main building not a laneway. The changes address bureaucratic obstacles; physical factors remain the same. The advantages are huge — “laneway suites” will allow more people to inhabit established neighbourhoods and take advantage of existing urban infrastructure.

Still, the city’s hostility to change is maddening. No surprise, then, that players such as veteran Toronto architect Dermot Sweeny are frustrated. “We’ve finally allowed laneway housing,” he mutters. “But leave stupid zoning in place. The ridiculous notion of separating uses has made our cities much less viable. Zoning in Toronto is ill-informed and not proactive. We need a higher order of intelligence and education to deal with this stuff.”

An exasperated Sweeny suggests “bulldozing” lowrise neighbourhoods and replacing them with “six-storey residential buildings that step back to seven, eight or nine storeys.”

And don’t get him going on Toronto’s point towers and their city-mandated 750-square-metre footprint: “Point towers make sense in New York because land is so expensive there. But in Toronto they are grotesquely inefficient. Slab buildings make much more sense.”

Then there’s Toronto’s appalling waste of heritage buildings, which city hall allows to be demolished for the price of a facade or two. Focusing instead on adaptive reuse would give the past a future and enhance the city immeasurably.

Though we look to the city for solutions to the housing crisis, typically it is the problem. There are other factors, notably NIMBYism, but Official Toronto has been slow to grasp the difference between controlling change and stifling it. City hall’s culture of no-can-do and its historic resistance to change have kept the city from capitalizing on its assets and fully realizing its potential. Fear of the future prevails. But a city that can’t adapt must die.

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