I’ve spent several weeks organising and documenting my thoughts on this situation I have no control over, which is challenging my approach to architecture.
In the coming weeks, I’ll be working on a project that has been in the media spotlight because the existing building is slated for demolition to make way for the new one. There is a petition with over a thousand signatures against the demolition, noting a series of reasons behind it: the existing building was designed by a notable architect, and it’s part of the state’s cultural heritage; it’s a waste of the organisation’s resources; and it’s unsustainable on environmental grounds (restoration and adaptive reuse should be advocated).
While I understand the petition raises awareness of the negative community perception of the redevelopment, I’m in a unique position, knowing the proposed design approaches and prior studies undertaken to determine the unsuitability of the existing built fabric for the briefed functions, which were shared internally within the team; none of which is publicly communicated by the client.
There is a personal struggle with the two understandable perspectives on how the existing building should be treated: retention is the most sustainable approach and is becoming the standard practice in other countries such as Denmark and the UK, where planning permission is required to demolish a building. I wish that were the case for this project. However, there is an argument that the existing building has physical limitations in accommodating the project’s proposed function, including floor-to-floor height, service core limitations, and structural constraints on floor layouts; thus, deconstruction (and maximised reuse of materials) is justified.
I’m not in the position to say one opinion is more right than the other; both views are true for many of us, and I have no doubt many people who signed up to the petition did so from emotional attachment and the iconography of the building in question, rather than from understanding of its heritage values at state level or the existing conditions (I wonder how many people have set a foot inside the building before – I certainly haven’t had a reason to use the space inside).
To guide my thinking, I needed good questions to dig deeper into the actual contested points. I hope you join me on a slightly more philosophical journey down the rabbit hole.
Question 1: How can we come to terms with the need for demolition when the place’s new functional requirements cannot be accommodated within the existing conditions?
The conversation stems from the project scope and design brief. The existing building was designed for and has been occupied for specific functions. The project was then born out of a master plan that highlighted the current lack of, and the future need for, different functions. The site was selected for a reason, and that raises the question of whether the existing built fabric can be reused or needs to be redeveloped.
In other words, the client (a group of stakeholders, some of whom may have moved on to something else) must have gone through an extensive process to get to this point, possibly with their rationale for why it is the most suitable location and why the project needs to be realised. In a sense, it is unfortunate that the voiced community sentiment and the proposed redevelopment are not fully aligned – no client wants to antagonise the community members they accommodate.
From an architect’s point of view, there is limited power to change the brief you tender, since you’re responding to their need. However, architects should undertake due diligence to evaluate ways to minimise environmental impact and assess the project’s feasibility on various grounds. In the past, I’ve encountered a situation in a project where there was a strong case to advise against it (e.g., concerns about compliance, risk, and safety), and we noted what needed to happen first to enable the project to proceed.
It is fair to ask, “Does it need to go there? Does the existing building need to go?” It rather articulates the significant power a master plan possesses and how the level of scrutiny you bring to assessing a place’s long-term direction makes all the difference down the track. One has to trust that whoever worked on the current master plan for this client did their best to synthesise all available information to deliver the most considerate proposal.
When demolition is inevitable based on the design brief, the first thing an architect may focus on is determining what exists in the building and finding ways to divert it from going straight to landfill. Whether it’s repurpose, retain and reuse, rehome (sell or give away), or upcycle, if sufficient resources are allocated to investigate, create a materials directory, and liaise with various collaborators to deliver on the promise of minimising waste, it is absolutely possible. In a way, the petition puts pressure on the client and project team to get it right, which may lead to a more positive outcome than initially intended or proposed.
Question 2: If one has never set foot in, seen or engaged with a place without formal acknowledgement of heritage significance, what is the role of communication/public narrative in helping them understand their views?
A petition to save a building is not uncommon, especially when you’re engaging with the industry of people who want to keep beautiful things that already exist. When heritage significance is the key factor, and there is formal recognition by a government body of experts, there is a publicly shared knowledge that it should not be demolished.
However, when such objective and professional acknowledgement is lacking at the state level, public discourse tends to become multifaceted; along with heritage claims, it shifts towards sustainability and the carbon footprint of demolition and reconstruction. Having worked on circular economy frameworks and studied the carbon footprint in the built industry, I’m acutely aware that the best approach is to retain. But in the back of my mind, I cannot help but question the black-and-white perception and feel ambivalent about making such a conclusion about an existing building that I have never been to or know enough about. It’s often the message of ‘the building will be demolished’ without full transparency of the decision-making process that instigates negative emotions towards the project.
Just like any democratic procedure, being informed needs to be the prerequisite for reaching a public consensus. This is where the role of media and communication becomes integral to helping people see the complexity of the case and form well-informed opinions. Why is the project required? What’s the feasibility of retrofitting? How extensive do the refurbishment and replacement need to be to improve quality of life? What’s going to happen to people who need to vacate the existing building? How does the project show care for the community? Should my voice and many other voices without any connection to the building be as loud as the voices of those who live, work, and occupy it? Is personal sentiment a sufficient reason to be against it? Is the name of a famous architect, rather than the building’s actual design quality, enough to claim architectural significance? If you have never been there, or have never entered the place before, can you articulate a reason against a proposal that you haven’t seen?
I can imagine details of many projects cannot be entirely open to the public due to confidentiality reasons, etc. Still, it is deeply worrying that the lack of information can significantly sway public narrative and perception, fuelling concern that the client doesn’t care about the community.
Tangential question: How can I approach a situation when you’re working on a project with known negative public sentiment?
From an architect’s perspective, it feels more like a moral question than a professional one. Should public petition influence the attitude towards a controversial project, when you know that no longer working on it means someone else will replace you and take the lead on it? (ie. project will remain the same anyway?) If you’re involved, at least you have a degree of voice in the process, seeking the best outcome for all? Or does working on a project that the public opposes make you evil? Do we become bad guys for not listening to the public when, in fact, architects are contractually required to deliver upon appointment?
Of course, some people may say, “Well, you should stick to projects that align with your vision and mission”. I fundamentally agree with it, but you rarely get to work on a client with a completely aligned vision and dream projects – different stakeholders in a large-scale project bring different perspectives based on varied interests. I can’t let go of an opportunity that may have a significant positive impact, could result in something beautiful, and could influence people to change their minds. Effectively, the project team will embody the community voice in shaping the outcome – the client may have locked in the project direction, but there is so much the team can do to address the concerns. It is also a journey of realisation, iteration, and reflection, an accumulation of my best efforts to do my part right, just as everyone on the team would. We ultimately fight for the best outcome for communities and the environment, and that’s why it’s worth doing my job.
Saran Kim | Blog 