"When a house is demolished, more than the home is lost": On North America's demolition derby

Smashed up. Image: Getty.

In 2013 alone, more than 500 houses were demolished in Nashville, Tennessee, a sharp increase from previous years. And hundreds of additional teardowns are expected in a city that’s projected to add a million residents over the next two decades.

Nashville is hardly the only North American city to experience a recent wave of teardowns. In Vancouver, a housing and real estate expert reports that the city issued more than 1,000 demolition permits in 2013. She points out that most of the demolitions are of single-family homes, and each sends “more than 50 tonnes of waste to landfills”.

While preservationists have long decried the loss of historic fabric and cultural capital through teardowns, the environmental costs of demolition are increasingly coming to the fore.

The negative environmental consequences of teardowns are manifest. According to the Chicago Metropolitan Agency for Planning (CMAP), demolition and construction now account for 25 per cent of the solid waste that ends up in US landfills each year. Further, when a building comes down and its materials are hauled off to the dump, all the energy embedded in them is also lost. This consists of all that was expended in the original production and transportation of the materials, as well as the manpower used to assemble the building.

As CMAP explains, “Examining embodied energy helps to get at the true costs of teardowns and links it to issues of air pollution and climate change (from the transport of materials and labor), natural resource depletion (forests, metals, gravel) and the environmental consequences of extracting materials.”

Often, a more environmentally friendly, quaint home is “replaced by a very expensive, much larger house, which is frequently left vacant”. Meanwhile, in the most desirable cities, in their tony suburbs, and in popular resorts, investors park their assets in “McMansions” that are sporadically occupied.

Additionally, bigger houses necessarily encroach upon open space. Not only does expansion entail the uprooting of mature plantings – which benefit air quality – but it also eliminates trees that can provide shade and minimize energy required to cool buildings in warmer months.

In the wake of the US housing crisis, many McMansions remain unoccupied. Image: Michael McCullough/flickr, CC BY-NC.

Urban facelifts erase more than crumbling buildings

In city neighborhoods, opponents of demolition will often cite the loss of historic character.

Advocates for development, on the other hand, frequently argue that demolition rids cities of decrepit, obsolete houses, paving the way for multi-unit developments. In this sense, cities can become more efficient with their limited space, avoiding suburban sprawl while alleviating the long, traffic-snarled commutes of those who travel to the city.

In many cities, however, new construction on the sites of torn-down houses is aimed at attracting relatively affluent young or middle-aged professionals – the demographic that appreciates urban amenities like shops, restaurants and museums.

Time was that a “walking world” – that is, an environment in which services and amenities are available within walking distance of one’s home – was possible for all city-dwellers, regardless of class. Today, in many urban areas, housing in the dense central core is the purview of the rich, and the less affluent are pushed to the outskirts.

As a result, formerly diverse neighborhoods become economically monolithic. Longtime residents scatter as home values – and taxes – are driven up by new construction.


Teardowns also have negative cultural implications.

All houses tell a story: they’re evidence of how earlier generations thought about domestic life and designed spaces to reflect their daily needs. When we demolish them, we lose those crucial traces of the past.

Of course, older houses often cannot satisfy contemporary demands for amenities, and were frequently built on a smaller scale. Modestly scaled houses from the 19th and early 20th centuries – which represent a wide range of architectural styles – are sometimes built out or renovated. But often developers and homeowners opt to (as a “For Sale” sign in my neighbourhood recently put it) “scrape the lot.”

For whatever reason, high square footage has become a prerequisite for new homes in the United States, where the average size of a house built since 2003 is more than double that in England. The United States Census Bureau reports that between 1973 and 2008 the average square footage of new houses soared from 1,660 to 2,519, only dipping after the Great Recession.

Small houses aren’t alone in falling victim to the wrecking ball. The Los Angeles Times recently reported on the demolition of mansions in desirable LA neighborhoods that had sold for as much as $35m.

Actress Jennifer Aniston has taken a stand against her mega mansion-inhabiting peers, arguing that, “The very idea that a building of 90,000 square feet can be called a home seems at the least a significant distortion of building code.”

Even in less supercharged real estate markets, large and well-built homes fall victim to rising land prices that make them more valuable as dirt.

One example is Georgia’s Glenridge Hall, an historic Tudor Revival mansion, which The Georgia Trust, a statewide historic preservation organization, designated a “place in peril” earlier this year.

Featured in films and providing some of the setting for the first season of The Vampire Diaries, Glenridge Hall had been preserved, until recently, by descendants of the original owner. But the architecture and planning firm Duany Plater-Zyberk & Company – darlings of the New Urbanism movement, which advocates for the revival of traditional town planning and walkable mixed-use developments – demolished the building to make way for a new mixed residential and commercial “English Village”.

Richmond, Virginia’s Agecroft Hall is built in the Tudor style. Image: Phoebe Reid/flickr, CC BY.

As I pointed out in my recent book, the builders of Tudor mansions like Glenridge Hall in the 1920s and 1930s attached a great deal of significance to the historic feel of their homes: in famous Tudors like the Virginia House and Agecroft Hall, they went so far as to import materials from actual English Tudors.

Unfortunately, for today’s wealthy builders and buyers, the past carries little cachet. For many, older homes are considered an obstacle rather than a badge of distinction. And when these radical presentists are given free rein to tear down the remains of the past, we all lose.The Conversation

Kevin D Murphy is Andrew W Mellon chair in the humanities and professor and chair of history of art at Vanderbilt University.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

 
 
 
 

Could modular housing help Britain build the homes it needs?

Pre-fabricated housing being moved into position in Los Angeles in 2012. Image: Getty.

We’ve got ambitious government targets, an appetite to build and huge numbers of people who need housing. But we’ve known all this for some time, yet we are still in the same situation – a housing crisis.

So let me start with an obvious yet uncomfortable truth - relying solely on traditional construction methods will not halt the housing crisis. This isn’t a comment on the traditional product or its processes, more a reiteration of a well-known fact: skills capacity is also at crisis point. 

It’s a stalemate situation. In 2016, the Joseph Rowntree Foundation released a report on the relationship between housing and employment. The report found that neighbourhood investment creates a sound basis for employment, and that affordable rent provides a greater incentive for people to work.

One relies to some degree on the other. After all, a home is about so much more than bricks and mortar. So why aren’t we jumping at the chance of doing things differently to get out of this impasse?

The UK is something of an outlier when compared to many of our continental neighbours. Areas like manufacturing have seen steady productivity growth over the last twenty years, allowing more economic growth with the same or fewer number of workers. However, the UK construction sector has seen productivity flat line for the past two decades. This limits growth, and means a loss of more than £100bn a year of economic benefit.     

There are alternative products and processes we can take advantage of – but we seem to be simply dipping our toes in the water. Personally, I think we’re suffering from a lack of confidence. We need confidence in the quality of modular products (which, clearly, from our recent YouGov research, the public doesn’t have). We need confidence in the durability of MMC (modern methods of construction) products.

And we need confidence in the sector that the intention of modular suppliers is to add to capacity, not to replace traditional processes.

This is why my team are currently working with a range of modular and MMC suppliers to robustly compare and contrast a range of housing products. It’s a live research project in Gateshead that will monitor and evaluate the build process and lifestyles on offer through a range of different construction methods – including traditional. The homes will be for affordable rent and tenants will be involved in the ongoing evaluation.


So why are we doing it? If we make this research available to other developers perhaps as a sector we can make more confident and informed decisions about new construction methods.

Because while MMC is being used across the sector, we’re not using it at scale. And its scale that we need to affect change: 300,000 homes is no small number, after all. (What’s more, according to a survey by the Royal Institution of Chartered Surveyors, only 12 per cent of surveyors believe we can hit that target – another confidence boost needed).

 MMC isn’t as affected by the crisis in construction skills capacity. It’s an entirely different skillset. So it’s not about skilled tradespeople jumping ship.

You could almost envisage two different pathways into housebuilding. Studies have told us that millennials are purpose-driven, and therefore most likely to be attracted to organisations that are driven by purpose. So maybe that’s how we have to think about careers in construction.

There may be two distinct pathways being formed with two distinct skillsets – but ultimately, both are responding to the housing crisis. Perhaps that’s the draw. And having increased opportunities may well see an increase in people working in the sector overall. 

We’re not competing in a crowded marketplace. There is a desperate need for more homes. We need to embrace every construction method available to us and work collaboratively to meet the government’s targets.

Let’s keep the end goal in mind and not be restricted with the way we’ve always done things. It’s time to take a different approach.

Mark Henderson is chief executive of the housing association Home Group.

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