As a former history major and lifelong history buff, I love old things. But preserving old things uses up economic resources. So not every old thing is worth saving.
When that issue enters the public sphere, things get knotty and may even involve constitutional questions without obvious answers.
Issues remain simpler when the decision remains squarely in the private sector. A beautiful old barn on the farmstead where I grew up will rot away if the roof is not replaced. My cousin now owns that part of the farm. He is a practical man and must make a living from farming. I doubt he will replace the roof since it would cost a lot, and the barn has been functionally obsolete for decades.
I’ll hate to see the barn go, but if I were in his position, I probably would do the same thing. Even now, I could offer to pay the cost of the roof, but my affection for the building does not extend that far.
Economic theory says that if a decision maker faces all the costs and all the benefits of a decision, the outcome will be an efficient use of economic resources. The cost of preserving the old barn exceeds the benefits, so don’t do it.
Note I did not say “benefits to society as a whole.” I am not the only person who likes the old barn. So the well being of others in the neighborhood may diminish at least a tad. And there may be some benefit to society as a whole from preserving part of our agricultural heritage. However, the collective willingness to pony up money for this would be pretty small.
There is no law mandating that farm owners preserve old buildings. But such laws do apply in many urban areas. If a certain building is deemed to have historical significance, the owner may be barred from making changes that would improve the value of the building or its income-generating capability.
Such restrictions can impose a significant economic cost on the owner. Thus, they are implicit taxes. Someone has less income or net worth because of a government action intended to benefit society as a whole. But these taxes can be very arbitrary.
Few would want to destroy the building where Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence or where Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant. And many of us hate to see beautiful old houses or historic government buildings in our communities torn down. But it is hard to know where to draw the line.
A mile west of where I live, the owner of an apartment building who wanted to renovate it was challenged because the building — with an earlier facade and interior — had housed one of Minneapolis’ first sororities.
A mile or so south of that is an old bar that the owner wants to tear down to provide space needed for a new commercial building. Few would see anything special about the building, but it happens to be one of many bars once owned directly by a local brewery and thus is “historically significant.”
In this and other cases, my sympathies fall with the owners. It seems clear that if one were able to apply some sort of objective social cost-benefit analysis, keeping these buildings would fail the test.
Moreover, if the benefits to society as a whole of preserving a building exceed the costs, forcing the owner to absorb all the costs is a valid issue.
The Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution forbids the taking of private property for public use without just compensation. If the government wants to tear down your house to build a freeway, it clearly has to pay you. But what if it just limits what you can do with the house?
Well-established law says that restricting people from using their property in ways that harm others is a legitimate role of government.
I cannot put up a wall that cuts my neighbor’s house completely off from the sun. A car repair shop in a residential neighborhood cannot use noisy air wrenches at midnight. A developer cannot fill in wetlands that recharge valuable aquifers or retain stormwater runoff.
There is a cost to others when beautiful or historic old buildings are torn down. But that cost is hard to estimate and it is not infinite. Historic building preservation can reach the absurd. Drawing clear lines will never be easy.
A recent wire service story pointed out an analogous problem. There are frequent efforts to preserve old Navy ships of historical significance. But they are increasingly expensive to maintain.
Veterans who served on them are powerful lobbies. There may be questions of local pride.
The battleship USS Texas, moored near Houston, doesn’t attain the mystique of the Alamo, but it comes close. North Carolinians love the USS North Carolina at Wilmington, and so on.
Such ships can be a powerful draw for tourists and benefit the local economy. Volunteers put hundreds of thousands of hours into helping preserve these ships and showing people through them.
Volunteerism can only go so far, however. The elements take their toll. Repainting a battleship or carrier can cost tens of millions of dollars. Steel hull plates rust through and fixing leaks requires expensive drydocking.
I love such old ships, but the preservation costs exceed that available from private charity. U.S. taxpayers are increasingly unwilling to pay for anything.
What do you do if preserving one more World War II submarine means reducing health, education or public safety spending?