Most of us remember the AdCouncil campaign in the 1970s. A lone, disconsolate Native American stands at a precipice, overlooking a landscape devastated by industry. His silent tears resonated in the hearts of many American school children who today recycle as a matter of course. In the 1970s, the environmental movement drove forward with phenomenal speed, and has now permeated the mainstream so effectively that many of us feel guilty throwing recyclables in the garbage rather than in their appropriate, number-coded bin.

The preservation movement, as a force that shaped public policy, crystallized around the same time. The Historic Preservation Act came into being in 1966. This act established a number of federal regulations governing the management of historic resources throughout the country. The Environmental Protection Act of 1970 defined the management of natural resources in much the same way. Both natural and historic resources have to be considered within an Environmental Impact Statement - an instrument used by government to gauge the impact of significant development on our built and natural environment.

In the 1990s, preservationists began to explore how environmentalism and other policy issues were bound to preservation ethics - in hopes of allying with stronger constituencies. The National Trust for Historic Preservation pointed to the problems of sprawl as a common denominator. Richard Moe, the Trust's President, has taken vocal stands of the impact of sprawl on specific communities, most blatantly, the Pennsylvania Amish.

Sustainability, one of the tenets of informed, conscientious development, is linked to both historic preservation and environmentalism, although this connection is not often aggressively addressed in local plans and policies for a "Sustainable Seattle." One of the primary precepts of sustainable communities and architecture relates to longevity - sustainable communities are built to last, as are sustainable buildings. Historic landmarks have, for the most part, a much longer shelf life than a substantial amount of new construction built with an estimated 20-year lifespan. Reusing buildings is a sustainable building practice.

The Ecotrust, a nonprofit group dedicated to establishing a "conservation economy" along the Pacific Northwest coast, recently converted a 1895 Portland warehouse into its headquarters. Reusing 98 percent of the building and its debris within their new design, the project is a model for both preservationists and environmentalists. The building, "a microcosm of the conservation economy" according to the Ecotrust, cleverly recycled pipes from a demolished addition to make bicycle racks (special thanks to David Jackson at Seattle's Daily Journal of Commerce).

The City of Seattle's statement on sustainability grazes the surface of the relationship between preserving our character-defining built environment, and sustaining a livable community. In a 2001 report, "Sustaining Seattle: Our Defining Challenge," the newly instated Office of Sustainability asserts in its first bullet point: "Saving What's Special—it's about saving what's special right here in our city, our magnificent, fertile surroundings; our urban forest and creeks, our distinct and vibrant neighborhoods, our civility. It's about preserving the things we love most about Seattle, the things that bring us pride and joy, the things we want to hand down to our grandchildren."

While this statement explicitly links preservation and environmental ethics, the city's office focuses almost entirely on the environment and new construction, according to the city's website. Area preservationists need to drive home the connection between the long-term health of our urban community, and the conservation of our built environment within the context of an overarching, sustainable city plan.

The connections do not end there.

Affordable housing projects that rehabilitate historic buildings are one form of sustainable building practice that is also, in many cases, much more humane than new construction. SRO's with character are a dying breed. Much of our area's new affordable housing takes the form of large, Dry-vit clad boxes with identical, dry-walled units. Historic Seattle has generated 80 units of affordable housing within the city limits. Such activities retain mixed-income communities, foster denser development thereby reducing need for excessive automobile use, maintain community character, and reduce the amount of landfill waste generated by demolition.

There are many reasons why environmentalists should care about historic buildings. It is arguably more important, however, for preservationists to think about why we should care about the environment, affordable housing, transportation planning, and other areas of public policy. In the context of recent budget cuts and ever-present threats to preservation programming, preservation needs more friends to remain vibrant, relevant, and forward moving. The entire community will benefit from our efforts.

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