In San Diego, historic preservation is often understood as something simple and widely supported: protecting older buildings that give neighborhoods their character. And at its best, that’s exactly what it does. But in practice, the way preservation is applied today can shape far more than architecture. It can determine whether new housing gets built at all. As the city considers changes in its preservation policies, this fact must be acknowledged.
When we talk about “weaponizing” historic preservation, we’re not talking about protecting truly significant buildings. We’re talking about how preservation tools are sometimes used in ways that delay or block new housing, often at the exact moment it is proposed.
That timing matters. Because housing doesn’t just fail all at once. It gets slowed down, redesigned, tied up in review or pushed into legal uncertainty. And in housing, delay alone can be enough to stop a project entirely.
Here’s how that plays out:
— Non-owner designations: Individuals with no ownership stake can initiate historic designation. As seen in Mission Hills, non-owner nominations bring properties into review as housing plans emerge. Public messaging focuses heavily on parking, affordability and the developer, suggesting opposition extends beyond the building itself. Once a property enters historic review, projects are paused, redesigned or abandoned altogether.
— State-level district designations: Increasingly, groups bypass local San Diego review by pursuing state historic district designation. Unlike site-by-site evaluation, these designations can apply broad narratives across entire neighborhoods, sweeping many properties into restriction at once. That dramatically expands where housing becomes difficult or impossible to build.
— St. Vincent’s Seminary: This pattern is not limited to San Diego. In Montebello, neighbors nominated St. Vincent’s Seminary for historic designation without the church’s knowledge after it proposed affordable housing under SB 4, a law designed to allow faith-based organizations to build housing on their land. The state approved the designation, effectively stopping the project before it could move forward.
— Height reduction: In Mission Hills, preservation advocacy was used to push down the height of a proposed condo development at One Paseo, reducing the number of homes that could be built in a high-opportunity neighborhood. That matters because this type of housing — single-story, elevator-accessed units — is exactly what many older homeowners need when they want to downsize without leaving their community. When projects like this are scaled back, it limits one of the few viable paths for seniors to transition out of single-family homes, which in turn reduces overall housing mobility. Fewer downsizing options mean fewer homes freed up for younger families, tightening supply across the market and putting additional pressure on prices.
— SOHO’s “San Diego Historic Preservation & Neighborhood Vitality” report: Funded by preservation groups and presented as independent research, the report uses data from older, pre-1970 neighborhoods to justify broader preservation policies. It does not account for the housing that is never built because of these rules. In doing so, it frames preservation as an affordability strategy, while overlooking how restricting supply affects cost.
The common thread is not just preservation. It’s what happens next. When housing proposals enter historic review, timelines stretch. Financing becomes uncertain. Legal risk increases. Projects are downsized or abandoned. Even when housing is ultimately approved, fewer units are built, and at higher cost.
And those costs don’t disappear. They show up in the final price of housing. When fewer homes get built in high-demand neighborhoods, competition increases for the limited supply that remains. That drives prices up. It pushes renters into fewer available units. And it makes entire neighborhoods harder to access for younger families, working residents and anyone without existing wealth.
In other words, preservation decisions don’t just affect buildings. They affect who can afford to live there. Preservation and progress are not inherently in conflict. San Diego should protect genuinely historic places while also allowing room for new housing.
But that balance depends on how preservation is used. When it is applied narrowly and thoughtfully, it protects history. When it is expanded broadly, timed strategically or used to challenge housing proposals, it can quietly limit who gets to live in the city at all. This is where preservation stops being about history and starts shaping access, and exclusion, in San Diego.
Wesley, a pro-housing advocate, lives in Downtown San Diego.