Zoning is a promise, not a suggestion

Approving zoning changes should not be routine. It should be rare, deliberate, and justified by overwhelming public benefit. When we treat zoning as a mere formality—something to be waived or rewritten whenever a new subdivision or strip mall is proposed—we erode the very foundation of responsible land use.

Zoning laws exist for a reason. They reflect years of planning, public input, environmental study and community vision. They determine where homes can be built, how traffic flows, where businesses thrive, and how natural resources are protected. These rules aren’t arbitrary—they’re the result of careful balancing between growth and preservation, between private interests and public good.

When a developer requests a zoning change, they’re asking the community to rewrite its rules for their benefit. Sometimes, that’s warranted. A new school, a desperately needed medical facility, or a housing project that fills a genuine gap—these are cases where flexibility might serve the greater good. But more often, zoning changes are sought to maximize profit, not public value. And when counties approve them without scrutiny, they send a dangerous message: that the rules don’t matter.

This pattern has consequences. Overdevelopment strains infrastructure, floods neighborhoods, and overwhelms schools and emergency services. It paves over wetlands, fragments wildlife corridors and worsens stormwater runoff. It replaces forests with asphalt and quiet with congestion. And it leaves taxpayers footing the bill for roads, utilities, and drainage systems that weren’t designed for this level of density.

In Milton and Navarre, for example, residents have watched as zoning changes greenlighted developments that ignore flood risks and traffic concerns. Across Santa Rosa County, citizens are asking: who is this growth really serving?

The answer should be: the community. But too often, it’s serving investors who will never live here, drive these roads, or send their children to these schools.

That’s why zoning must be treated as a contract—not a suggestion. When residents buy homes, they rely on zoning to understand what their neighborhood will look like in five, 10 or 20 years. They expect that the quiet street won’t become a commercial corridor overnight. They trust that wetlands won’t be filled in for condos. They believe that their elected officials will uphold the plan they helped shape.

Breaking that trust has long-term consequences. It breeds cynicism, disengagement and resentment. It makes citizens feel powerless in the face of bulldozers and blueprints. And it undermines the legitimacy of local government.

So what can be done?

First, counties must adopt a higher threshold for approving zoning changes. The default answer should be “no” unless there is clear, compelling evidence that the change serves a broad public interest. That means rigorous environmental review, traffic studies and public hearings—not rubber stamps.

Second, comprehensive plans must be respected. These documents are the backbone of land use policy, and they should guide every decision. If a proposed change contradicts the plan, it should be rejected—or the plan itself should be revisited through a transparent, democratic process.

Third, citizens must be empowered. Public input should be more than a formality—it should shape outcomes. Advisory boards, neighborhood councils, and online platforms can give residents a stronger voice in land use decisions.

Finally, elected officials must remember who they serve. Their job is not to facilitate profit—it’s to protect the public interest. That means saying “no” when necessary, even when the pressure is high and the promises are shiny.

Zoning is not a barrier to progress—it’s a tool for smart, sustainable growth. It’s how we preserve what makes our communities livable, beautiful and resilient. And it’s how we ensure that change, when it comes, is thoughtful—not reckless.

Let’s stop treating zoning changes as routine. Let’s start treating them as the serious, consequential decisions they are. Because once the genie of overdevelopment is out of the bottle, it’s awfully hard to put back in.