Until recently, new stores generated controversy only if they planned to sell pornography, assault weapons or cups of coffee that cost as much as a used car. But so-called big box stores – Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Lowe’s and the like – have divided coastal cities such as Damiriscotta, Rockland and Belfast. Especially Belfast.

The Waldo County shiretown has debated big boxes since 2001 when Wal-Mart proposed building a supercenter store there. A nonbinding referendum vote that year directed the City Council to limit the size of new retail stores well below big box dimensions, and Wal-Mart moved on. A few years later, a referendum vote created a special 80-acre zone in which a big box could locate; no stores showed interest in the location. A third vote removed from the city’s charter the provision by which the 80-acre rezoning was achieved. Each vote was close and drew big turnouts.

The fight in Belfast was renewed recently when Lowe’s applied to build on the 80-acre parcel, and the council voted to block it.

Why do big box stores elicit such passion, with the lines between proponents and opponents so sharply drawn?

The answer may be because big box stores remake communities in a big way. When shopping plazas with big box stores such as those in Ellsworth and Augusta are established, a city’s downtown is relegated to a second choice for shoppers. In some cities, downtowns flourish with that new identity. In Rockland, Wal-Mart, Home Depot, Staples and other chains dominate a strip north of downtown, but the historic business district, with the Farnsworth Art Museum, a dozen art galleries, pubs and restaurants, thrives. But other downtowns struggle to remain visible to residents and out-of-town shoppers after the big boxes arrive.

Big box shopping centers also remake the economic landscape, helping lower-middle-class and working-poor families afford back-to-school clothes for the kids, socks and underwear for dad, housewares, essentials such as light bulbs and bath towels, and electronics such as TVs and DVD players. With gasoline approaching $4 per gallon, driving 50 miles or more to shop at Wal-Mart erases the savings, which explains the passion of big box supporters.

But when a Wal-Mart comes to town, the community begins drawing thousands from outlying towns. That means more fender-bender car crashes, shoplifting complaints and litter, which translates into higher police costs for the municipality.

Lastly, big box stores change a community’s look and what it feels like to live there. And there’s a finality to big box development; once a store is constructed, it’s a change in land use not likely to be reversed any time soon.

All of which should give communities pause. The process that has unfolded in Belfast could be instructive to other towns. After rejecting the first Wal-Mart proposal, the city six years later actually invited the chain to come to town. What changed was that Wal-Mart would have had to build at a site with contract zoning, a mechanism that allows the city to dictate everything from lighting to the color of the building. It’s a good compromise, which gives opponents leverage to mitigate the bad effects while still holding the door open for the store to set up shop.

Passions will remain high, but a community that reassesses and problem-solves on this issue is more likely to master it.