In The Critic, Andrew Hunt runs through the invisible environmental costs of the building industry and points out that despite the eye-opening amount of carbon emissions, the buildings we’re putting up everywhere are just not built to stand the test of time:
The Centre national de la danse in Pantin (Seine-Saint-Denis), designed in 1965 by Jacques Kalisz.
Photo by Cinerama14 via Wikimedia Commons.
In the run up to COP26, you can be sure we won’t be spared the preaching about windmills, electric cars and heat pumps, along with pious admonishments against any form of human pleasure, from taking holidays to eating a steak. As always, those in charge will ignore the elephant in the room. The world’s biggest polluter by far is the construction industry. According to the UN, it produces 38 per cent of global emissions. By comparison, airlines produce just 2 per cent. If Extinction Rebellion had brains, they’d be blockading building sites rather than airports.
Politicians seem equally blind. They fetishise house-building, but fail to notice that building even a two-bed house creates 80 tonnes of carbon and uses 150 tonnes of materials – the same amount of landfill as an average household creates over 300 years! By comparison, powering your house produces about 2 tonnes of CO2 per year. Even if you could build a truly net zero home tomorrow (which you can’t), it would take forty years to break even.
A big part of the problem is modern construction materials. Producing concrete (180kg of CO2/tonne) and steel (1.85 tonnes of CO2/tonne!) are two of the most ubiquitous and environmentally destructive industries on the planet. By contrast, sandstone has a carbon footprint of just 77kg/tonne, and wood can be CO2 negative as it locks in carbon. Those old materials last longer as well. There are stone buildings that have been knocking around for more than a millennium — Rome’s Pantheon is 1900 years old. If treated properly, wooden buildings can last almost as long. The world’s oldest inhabited house in the Faroe Islands is 900 years old and built from wood. China’s ornately carved Nanchang Temple has been welcoming Buddhists since the 8th century.
Pre-stressed concrete meanwhile has a lifespan of 50-100 years, meaning many of the first concrete structures have already crumbled into carcinogenic dust.
It’s not just the materials. For buildings to last, we must love them enough to preserve them.
In a little-known study, “Sustainable Build Heritage“, a group of Danish academics looked at why some buildings stand for centuries while others are demolished in as little as a generation. Their conclusion was that buildings that last are made of good materials, are functional and, above all, are beautiful. They acknowledged the timelessness of traditional notions of beauty: how some buildings give us the same gut reactions as they did our ancestors. Copenhagen is of course full of examples — not least her colourful townhouses that have been standing for over two centuries. They have had to be adapted, but they have always been popular places to live.
Closer to home, badly built eyesores are being torn down barely a generation after their construction: tower blocks from the 60s, council offices from the 70s and shopping centres from the 90s. That’s billions of tonnes of fossil fuels and mining degradation ending up as landfill.
Has anything been learnt? The Prime minister’s “Build Back Better” plan is in no way green. Construction can never be green. Is it possible to conceive of a crueller thing to do to future generations than a debt-fuelled frenzy of brutalist carbuncles that will be theirs to demolish? When Greta Thunberg described Build Back Better as “blah-blah-blah”, she was being generous. It’s an environmental catastrophe.
