By Jacob van Rijs
This letter by MVRDV founding partner Jacob van Rijs was first published by NRC. It has been translated from Dutch for publication here.

Re-evaluation often comes (slightly) too late for buildings of the “Post ‘65 generation”. This was once again apparent in the inspiring article about these “modern monuments” in the Rotterdam supplement of NRC published on November 26th. “You only see it when it’s too late” applies to much brutalist architecture.

For years I passed the Blakeburg office building on the Blaak without thinking – perhaps unconsciously pedalling a little faster through always-windy Rotterdam. It is indeed a fine example of polder brutalism. Was it once ‘not done’ to speak of brutalism in admiring terms? Nowadays you see that this architectural movement is gaining more and more appreciation. There is even an Instagram account, Keep Rotterdam Ugly, that advocates preserving the city's ugly ducklings.

The documentary Robin Hood Gardens, screened during the last Architecture Film Festival Rotterdam, once again makes it clear what violent reactions brutalism can provoke. The Robin Hood Gardens project in London, completed by Alison and Peter Smithson in 1972, can be seen as a failure (according to quite a few Londoners) or a brilliant addition to the city (in the eyes of many architects). The building is a classic in architectural education but nevertheless, with the approval of the city, in 2017 the wrecking ball was irrevocably sent in. A portion of the concrete façade was subsequently purchased by the renowned (and government-supported) Victoria & Albert Museum. After this status upgrade to museum piece, the façade portion was transported across Europe to be built in Venice, where it was given a place of honour at the Biennale.

I don't see such a bizarre thing happening to the Blakeburg, but the documentary does a good job of expressing our love-hate relationship with brutalist buildings. The film can also be seen as a warning that we should be much, much more careful with demolition – not only because what is ugly today might be considered beautiful tomorrow, but also because of an aspect not mentioned in the article: the environmental damage caused by demolition.

Stumbling Block

As is well known, most Brutalist buildings are made of concrete, one of the most polluting of all building materials. In Germany, where I work a lot as an architect and also teach a new generation of architects, the debate about preserving these kinds of buildings is more activist in tone. Architects and designers – but also clients and politicians – are more concerned with the question of how construction, which is responsible for 40 percent of CO2 emissions, can be transformed. The movement, which in Germany has taken on the catchy name Bauwende [“construction turnaround” in English], will have the same impact on the construction industry as the Wende [known in English as the Peaceful Revolution] after which it is named.

The Staudenhof, a large Plattenbau complex in the centre of Potsdam that is a stumbling block for many people, is illustrative of the movement. The public debate is not about beauty or ugliness, but focuses on the why: how can you remove so many cubic meters of concrete in this day and age only to rebuild the same number of cubic meters of concrete? When half of the materials extracted from the earth are used in construction – resulting in a huge stream of waste – something has to change.

In my opinion, in the Netherlands too, we should always first investigate how we can reuse, transform, or build atop brutalist concrete boxes by placing more floors on their roofs. It is not realistic to stop building at all, but stopping unnecessary building seems to me an achievable first step. So why don't we first explore all the options for preserving dated buildings? Demolition could only follow if there is absolutely no other option. It would be a good idea, if demolition takes place, to set strict conditions for the compensation of emissions if new buildings are built on the same site.

1970s architecture

If we encourage reuse, CO2 emissions will decrease significantly – and that’s what we want: the goal in Dutch climate policy is a 95 percent reduction in emissions from construction in 2050 compared to 1990. This requires that the rules, and also the cities themselves, allow a higher density of buildings. In this way, instead of demolishing, you could place a residential tower on top of an existing building – see for example the transformation of the old post office on Coolsingel into Post. Everyone benefits from such an approach: the developer gets much more floor area for their money, more homes are produced for people who would like to stay in the city but are unable to do so because there is too little supply, and a characteristic building is preserved.

If we manage to spare the Blakeburg, it will have many advantages. It is good for the environment, and architecture guides in Rotterdam will still be able to show examples of 1970s architecture because that part of our architectural history will not be completely wiped off the map. It’s also a way of avoiding awkward questions from future generations about how we could have been so stupid not to reuse so much concrete.

Main image: MVRDV's Roskilde Festival Højskole transformed an existing concrete building, itself a former concrete factory. Image © Ossip van Duivenbode.