ARCHITECTURE: FRIEND OR FOE?

Kaj Zwerver explores the hidden social impact of architecture. In this essay, he reflects on the thin line between hostile and friendly architecture, and asks: can a building unintentionally become a refuge, or is there sometimes intent behind it after all?

When you make your way beneath the Ghent city library De Krook, from the covered bicycle parking on level -1 down to the bicycle basement on level -2, you go down a ramp. At the top right, at eye level, niches appear that are hidden in the architecture of the building. Around five perfectly shaped alcoves, sheltered from rain and wind and out of sight. They are popular with homeless people. Using cardboard, they close off the opening on the bicycle-parking side, as if it were a door, and withdraw into their living room. They do not seem to cause much nuisance, and these spots were put to use fairly soon after De Krook opened. Unlike many other places in public space where homeless people sleep, these are rather invisible sleeping places.

“It is not uncommon for architecture to turn out to have an attracting effect on homeless people, but the cause is often an unfortunate combination of building forms, vacancy, location and a lack of shelter.”

The efficiency of these niches for the homeless raised the question of whether this is really a coincidence. It is not uncommon for architecture to turn out to have an attracting effect on homeless people, but the cause is often an unfortunate combination of building forms, vacancy, location and a lack of shelter. Think, for example, of the Noordstation and the Zuidstation in Brussels. Cleaning up those neighbourhoods through “Operatie Opkuis” (Operation Clean-Up) remains, in the end, treating the symptoms. Imagine it could be different. What if the architect of De Krook secretly integrated these niches into the design? After all, one line more or less on a construction drawing will escape most people.

Could there be architects who, under the radar, integrate places for homeless people into their designs as a form of professional activism, as if it were a form of “friendly architecture”? Facilitating places where homeless people can withdraw and rest would be the opposite of the urban planning strategy we have followed in recent years, that of “hostile architecture”. With the aim of keeping certain groups out of the city. A trend that cities such as Rotterdam, Utrecht and Leiden are now moving away from. Take, for example, the benches with a middle armrest so that nobody can sleep on them, the bus stops where benches have made way for leaning rails, or the spikes on window sills: all deliberately designed to make life for homeless people even harder and less accessible. What does it say about our era if this is how we treat the most vulnerable groups in our society?

The city library De Krook is a public building, financed with public money. A library exists to serve the city and the people in that city. Could it really not be that these niches were created on purpose?

Homelessness is a rising trend across Europe. According to the latest estimate, Ghent has 2,490 homeless people: 1,857 adults and 633 directly affected children. These children obviously do not live on the street, but they do live within the sphere of influence of their homeless parent(s). The social housing stock is roughly 15,000 homes for 270,000 inhabitants, and with an average waiting time of four years, the housing stock is under pressure here too. Last year there was even a historic popular consultation on affordable housing. Assuming niches deliberately created under De Krook, the stock of habitats for homeless people could then serve five of the 1,857 homeless adults.

Suppose we extend this line of thought to policy. Amsterdam also has a housing crisis, but there the principle has applied since 2017 of 40 percent social rent, 40 percent mid-priced rent and 20 percent free-sector housing in new-build projects. This policy was framed once more in the Housing Agenda 2025 (De Woonagenda 2025). In the past, this obligation also existed in Flanders, with a quota of social housing of up to 20 percent on private land and up to 40 percent on public land. This arrangement disappeared because of a technical issue over illegal state aid, according to Europe, and since then no Flemish government has put that mistake right.

What if we add five percent habitats for homeless people to these quotas? These could be smaller and therefore cheaper. What would this mean for the housing market, and what would the minimum requirements of such a home for the homeless have to be? After all, we have housing quality standards that a home must officially meet. According to the Flemish surface-area standard, a self-contained dwelling must be at least 18 square metres. If we look at the quality standards for rooms, the requirement of at least 8 square metres is smaller. But there must be a ‘minimum of comfort’, such as an individual washbasin with hot water.

“The question, of course, is whether the solution to homelessness lies in making architecture more accessible.”

The niches under De Krook do not come anywhere near meeting these standards. Still, isn't it more ethical to provide shelter from rain and wind than to let people sleep completely outside? Whether these niches meet the standards is perhaps beside the point. The question, of course, is whether the solution to homelessness lies in making architecture more accessible. Devising socio-economic measures that ensure fewer people sleep outside is perhaps a better solution to the source of the problem. Still, a friendlier approach to public space is in any case a lot better than “hostile architecture”.

At the moment there is a lot of attention for sustainable building. Slowly, we are also starting to think about the ecological impact of the built environment on “non-humans”. Think of animals and organisms other than humans. Building and renovating more attentively in relation to the environment is a logical next step in our development towards a more inclusive approach to architecture. Yet it feels bitter if we skip a group of people in doing so. Here, too, the social and ecological themes collide. As a society, we will have no choice but to move towards an energy transition with more ecological awareness. But that must not come at the expense of the still relevant social struggle for universal housing. If we can arrange it for animals and for the earth, then all people should at least be helped to a roof over their heads.

Given the current political climate in both the Netherlands and Belgium, we can conclude that no structural solutions will present themselves in the short term. In both countries, politicians are even toying with the idea of scaling back the night shelters, which are already in poor condition. As the architecture world, we cannot keep waiting for social policy. In the meantime, let's design niches en masse.