The built form of cities reflects the
demographics and economic structures of their eras. In the great age of rail,
we built elaborate central train stations. In the age of mail, we built
impressive post offices in central city and suburban locations. When cities
functioned mainly as trading ports, we built wharves, warehouses and cargo
handling facilities and CBDs effectively grew up around these functions. Many
of these structures remain long past their economic use by date, and are often
re-adapted to contemporary uses. The recent decision by Australia Post to sell
its central GPOs for adaptive re-use is a case in point.
Re-purposing quality heritage structures
ensures an ongoing economic role for these buildings, and in the process means
they will be maintained and protected, as well as enjoyed by their tenants and
the public. It allows cities to grow and develop and to adapt the built
environment to the demands of contemporary economic life. Preserving features of the past connects us
all to our history and enhances the sense of place and belonging.
But is the drive to preserve past
structures now going too far? Are we now locking down swathes of our urban
landscape and preventing sensible adaption to modern lifestyles and economic
change? Is it true that the notion of preserving anything ‘old’ has become so
widespread that the merits of preservation go largely untested while any
benefits of redevelopment are assumed to be nothing more than development
profit for demonized ‘greedy developers’? Has it become, in the case of the
preservation of built form, a matter of guilty until proven innocent?
This came into focus for me when some
dilapidated pre-war homes in Highgate Hill – an inner suburb of Brisbane - which
were approved for demolition suddenly became a cause celebre of a small but
passionate and very vocal protest group. Yes, there was a local government
election in the air but it’s a story that could be repeated in many Australian
cities. Despite holding a legitimate license to demolish the properties in
order to develop a five storey unit project - in line with the local plan for
the area - the local and state governments succumbed to pressure and combined
to issue a temporary stop order on any demolition.
Keep in mind these were dilapidated
properties, allegedly riddled with termites and with significant amounts of
asbestos. Any aesthetic value had long since disappeared after decades of being
subject to multiple changes, partitions, and neglect. They had served their
purpose for multiple generations of different types of occupants, but their
use-by date was up.
They had sold in recent history to a
developer with plans to follow the local planning scheme – a scheme endorsed by
both local and state government. Evidently, when the properties were available
for sale, our committed band of protesters did not buy the properties
themselves. Concern for their protection did not extend to investing their own
money in acquiring the properties and undertaking very extensive structural and
design changes to restore them to some former glory.
What also became apparent from some media
reports was that a number of the protesters, as nearby residents, were not
ratepayers but renting houses or even just rooms in the area. You may think this
too harsh, but it seems that not owning a nearby property (and hence not paying
property taxes) is no obstacle to protesting that someone else’s property
should be dealt with in a certain way. “No taxation without representation” was
a slogan during the American Revolution. Now we have representation without
taxation. This group seemed to hold the
view that a purchaser of these properties had some community obligation to
undertake very extensive and costly renovations to restore derelict houses in
line with what a small number of the nearby community believed should happen,
irrespective of holding a valid license to demolish the properties and
irrespective of the local community passing on the opportunity to buy the
properties themselves.
And for what? Why this obsession with
preservation even when it comes to structures that are clearly redundant or structurally
deficient? We are not talking about highly significant heritage buildings of unique
architectural or historic merit. We are not talking about public buildings in
which the community has a legitimate say. We are talking about basic dwellings,
privately owned, built of low cost materials available at the time and designed
to suit a community and an economy that expired long ago.
The risk is that blanket preservation
across swathes of our suburban and commercial centres prevents common sense
rebuilding in line with contemporary needs. For starters, new housing tends to
be more thermally and environmentally efficient. Anyone who has tried to cool,
heat, or maintain an older style home will attest to that. Further, modern housing is designed around the
needs of today’s occupants – not households of more than 50 years ago. Plus, the
local demography of many areas has entirely changed. Where once neighborhoods
were busy with children playing in the street, some areas now house a large
number of elderly who remain in homes that may no longer suit their needs
because little is allowed to change (ie be redeveloped) in their neighborhood
that might actually meet their needs. More important it seems to preserve
dwellings that have outlived their purpose and insist that elderly relocate to
somewhere else, than accommodate a changing community need.
Before you start sticking pins into a
voodoo doll fashioned in my likeness, this is not advocating a ‘slash and burn’
of heritage properties. But it is trying to identify a clear difference between
what constitutes a significant building or structure that is worthy of
protection or adaptive reuse, and ones that are simply old.
It also raises a question about who should
pay for this protection. Landmark public buildings are often paid for through
adaptive reuse which identifies a new, alternate economic purpose. Failing
this, taxpayers are generally willing to protect or maintain significant
historic structures. But private homes are another thing. Only some are so
significant that they have a market value which makes their preservation in
private hands worthwhile to the owner. Run of the mill houses which are simply
old may be more valuable for the land on which they sit than the structure
above it. If these are to be preserved, unwillingly, by private owners – what
compensation do we offer? None. Instead, the community is growing accustomed to
the idea that they are entitled to have a greater say in what can and can’t be
done with other people’s private homes in held in private hands for private
use.
A city governed by excessive intervention
in private property rights – all in the name of heritage protection – could
find itself with large areas increasingly ill-suited to the modern world. We
aren’t forced to keep driving around and maintaining old cars simply because
they’re old – we are allowed to choose convenience and comfort and make
fit-for-purpose decisions ourselves. Why is this increasingly not the case for
the humble house?
