Sometimes, a few words can encapsulate a deep and complex topic.

If people can’t afford homes, we should permit affordable housing.

Sounds simple. Here begins many more words. There are policies for this and that. Programs for aiding this piece or that piece. It sounds intractable and is definitely pervasive. Yet, here I sit, my home bracketed by new houses. They are affordable to some because otherwise they wouldn’t be getting built. But they are not affordable to the people who need a house, any house, a shelter, a place they can afford on a typical income. Talk to them and find that they frequently have solutions, but they are literally not permitted to build them. They are not permitted to build what they consider affordable housing.

Where to start? I could describe my amateur understanding of the policies and procedures that are being debated. There are others who are better at politics and referendums. I’ll leave those discussions to them.

(Disclosure: I’ve written professionally about real estate and have also been a realtor. Currently, I am a homeowner and a writer.)

How about starting at a more personal level? Talk, no, listen to people who can’t afford housing. Most of the ones I know have solutions. They’re not whining about what to do, what to do. They frequently have answers that would work for them. Those answers aren’t panaceas, but case-by-case, people being able to live the way they want to, the size of the problem necessarily shrinks.

People who are struggling to find housing are frugal by necessity, yet they meet hurdles. Their solutions can be enacted but frequently built by people who are frugal by choice, by fashion. It takes resources to employ the people who will enable their applications and variances and their permits. Vacation houses become easier to permit than someone’s frugal home.

Tiny houses, cobb houses, strawbale, single-wides, houseboats, trailers, mixed-use buildings like barns. People in need don’t discuss such things as abstractions. Such alternatives meet their needs. One person might be fine with a converted barn. Someone else might be fine with a trailer. Their solution may be a temporary first step, but that may not be permitted. Innovative and frequently very old-style materials and construction techniques can even be more environmentally sound.

But, there’s that need for a permit.

The very nice houses being built around me are permitted. They are conventional, may require variances, and employ lots of contractors. Great. That drives an industry and an economy.

Unconventional houses may not drive an industry, but they may house that soon-to-be homeowner.

How many conventional houses were permitted in this county this year? Insert your municipality here. How many people need affordable housing? How many of their solutions were permitted? Which permits were given the higher priority?

Island County, Washington is proud of its rural character. It isn’t the only place. Rural character shows up in missions and goals, marketing materials, general descriptions of what the locals want the place to be. Rural character can be quaint and fashionable. The odd part is that permitting a modern farmhouse-style house may entail hundreds of thousands of dollars and thousands of square feet.

Traditional farmhouses had humbler beginnings. Imagine a farmer homesteading (and all the history that goes with that). They have land. No house. No crops. Possibly no income. What do they do first? Look back in history. They may have started in a tent, or a log house, or a sod house. Houses were small because large houses were expensive in money and time. They needed something to live in while devoting time to farming, or working livestock, or felling trees for lumber. That first house might have been temporary. Farmhouses eventually grew, but that could take years, if at all.

Modernity provides options. Manufactured homes simplify the choices. But permitting them, especially the more affordable single-wides, is difficult – or may be banned. Container houses and tiny houses have their own shows, but building something small may violate building codes – that are there to preserve rural character. We pride our country on innovation, but we don’t readily permit it.

I like my house, the only place I’ve emotionally called my home. I can barely afford it, and frequently have almost sold it. According to Redfin, it is 868 square feet on a 7,200 square foot lot. It is more beach cottage (though more than a quarter mile from the water) than farmhouse. It was built in 1964, was probably smaller, and expanded to its current size. It was all the original owners needed. Why build bigger?

It couldn’t be built now. A correction. My home could be built now because the laws of physics have not changed. The only thing that has physically changed since then is that today’s lumber is less likely to be old growth, and therefore, less structurally resilient. However, years ago, one member of the homeowners association (something else that wasn’t part of rural character) said my house was in violation of the bylaws because it is less than a thousand square feet. My house predates those rules. Many of the older houses in the area are this small or smaller. I’m not going to artificially grow my house. Such money needs to go to more practical uses.

I’ve stayed in a 128-square-foot tiny house. I could see how it could work for me. The sub-micro-mini tinies are like 96 square feet. They are too small for me, unless I was homeless. I prefer my friend’s tiny house, which is about 220 square feet. That plus a storage building, maybe a container, and enough land for a yard and garden, and I’d be in luxury compared to much of the world. I might also be out of debt. Unfortunately, if I sold this house and bought some land with the proceeds, I probably wouldn’t be permitted to live on the land while building an affordable house.

It is even tougher for many people I know.

But what about appearances? The conversation can leap to negative images of bad trailer parks, hobo communities, RVs, and a trashy lifestyle. Who wants that? I doubt anyone wants a trashy lifestyle; but someone who is paying so much for rent that they can’t afford healthy food, or someone who can’t afford any food, or someone who is illegally hiding in the forest has more basic needs. Function is more important than style.

Is rural character, or fashion, or style more important than housing those who are struggling? Can we enable someone who has a solution in mind but that they are not permitted to employ?

I mentioned that there are no panaceas. Water and sanitation are health issues to provide and protect. Power is less likely to require tying into the grid thanks to solar, wind, and LEDs. But people usually live near people, and that means sharing water sources and safely handling waste. Of course, there are options like water catchment, grey water systems, and even delivered water. As for sewage, septic is common, but can be required to exceed a minimum house size measured in bedrooms. Humanure systems exist (and I’ve seen them being hidden because they probably couldn’t get a permit.) Incinerating toilets are novel. I don’t want one, but if it works for someone else it is not my job to say they can’t use it. (For me, I cringe at the irrational image of something that could put a fire up my butt.)

Of course, I’m only one person with some opinions.

I was part of an affordable housing panel last year. Some of the others were in the housing industry or government. The conversation centered on conventional housing. I recall one comment from another conversation where someone said (not expecting an answer), “How could anyone live in less than 1,500 square feet?” Why wouldn’t a contractor prefer to build something more profitable for their business? The people who need a house have other answers. Go out and ask them on a dark and stormy night. Bring a flashlight and boots, and expect them to be suspicious of your intent. Better yet, talk, no, listen to them somewhere and sometime they feel safe and don’t have to skip work.

After one of those meetings, I dropped into engineer mode. (Ex-aerospace, not construction, but comfortable with numbers.) If housing is unaffordable, use less materials by reducing the size. If conventional construction of tinier houses has too few available contractors, make it easier for owner-built houses, maybe use alternative materials. If land is too expensive, allow smaller lots, or let people live on the water. By the numbers it is easier to be driven to physically feasible options – that aren’t permitted.

The bulk of the mainstream housing market works for the mainstream. That shouldn’t be a surprise. One thing that was difficult as a realtor was diminishing dreams of friends who were having financial trouble but who had found a housing solution. Frequently, that was a dream of a small house on a lot big enough for a garden. Simple. Almost farm-like. But, they couldn’t get permits for that single-wide, or that container house, or that houseboat, or, or, or…

In the meantime, many of the houses being built in my area are second, third, fourth houses. They aren’t homes. Some are more like hotel rooms waiting for their owner-guests. They aren’t breaking laws by doing so. They are enjoying the fruits of their wealth, and they are permitted to do so. About a decade ago the south end of Whidbey Island, where I live, was about 27% vacant, according to the US Census. The last time they reported, that had risen to 38%. That’s a lot of permitted houses that are affordable to their owners, but evidently not affordable to those who need housing most. How many frugal houses do we need?

From the financial perspective of people who can’t afford housing, that’s a lot of unaffordable housing being permitted.

What are we really permitting?

Existing housing doesn’t have to change. The mainstream doesn’t have to change. The industry doesn’t have to change. But, there is a housing crisis. Evidently, something has to change. We could permit truly affordable housing.