December Issue
Margarita Kopsia
November
Debates on the issues of historic preservation, the rise and fall of architectural neoclassicism in European cities and contemporary methods for rapidly housing masses of population in developing urban areas all form crucial matters in the field of architecture and urban policy. One can find pieces of all these questions and perhaps even some bits of answers just by taking a stroll around their closest urban setting. It is not rare to be able to notice subtleties such as the concrete blending with other or with more aged materials, bearing witness to all the charming contradictions that cities are characterized by.
Athens is no exception to this, as the Greek capital teaches whoever is attentive to its fusion of architectural styles and diffuse spatial planning the value of finding beauty where it is traditionally attributed, be it, for example, in the indisputable worth of the ancient monuments that the city is well-known for, but also where fewer are willing to inquire into. By this last point, I am more specifically referring to what has been the ambiguous result of Athens’ exponential growth in the second half of the twentieth century and the crisis that it was hit by earlier in that period, which tangibly influenced its unique and seemingly unattractive landscape. The latter is dominated by the polykatoikies (plural of polykatoikia), or “multi-residence” buildings, appearing to serve the sole purpose of housing as many people as possible at affordable costs. Often overlooking aesthetics by having had to keep up with the rapid urbanization trends they emerged from, they are commonly criticized for being too dull and soulless.
Concrete, tall and monotonous, these “famous postwar apartment blocks” have for better or for worse forged Athens’ contemporary architectural identity, usually conveying a feeling of indifference or discontent to most of its residents. With their appearance dating back to the early twentieth century, their preponderance and widespread development in the following decades is intrinsically tied to the city’s historic path and the occurrence of various major events such as growing demographic pressures and the end of the military junta in 1974.
Given the specificities and fragilities of the process through which these apartment complexes proliferated, it can be very enlightening to ask ourselves what lessons can Athens teach us, from its “successes” as well as its “mistakes.” Can we rethink how we should tackle issues related to the interaction between architectural influences, challenging historic contexts and, in some cases, the neglected importance of valuing the past all while turning to the future?
The roots of a perceived bitterness
What constitutes today a major source of frustration and discontent among Athenian residents is in fact the striking disposal of nineteenth century neoclassical architecture in favor of these modern “condominiums.” Linked to the search for more state-of-the-art amenities, these were presented as means to maximize each building’s capacities. The neoclassical style of architecture, which signaled a “revival of Classical architecture” by showcasing the development of a “new taste for antique simplicity” among Western powers, had in fact been exported to Greece in the 1830s at the time of the establishment of the Kingdom of Greece. King Otto of Bavaria had been chosen as Greece’s King by the great powers and strived to put into practice various aspects of his romanticized vision of the country. This had led to the involvement of European architects such as Theophil and Christian Hansen, Ernst Ziller and Eduard Schaubert, who pursued their works in the city alongside other Greek architects. Traces of their designs can still be found around the capital, as some of their leading works include, for instance, the Zappeion Megaron, the Presidential Mansion and the emblematic buildings that are part of the Athenian neoclassical trilogy in the center of Athens. The latter are comprised of the National Library of Greece, the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens and the Academy of Athens, which, no matter how significant and imposing they are, amount to only a small minority of the neoclassical constructions that were once scattered in various corners of the capital, as most did not survive in the face of the new pressures that governments and individuals were eventually faced with.
There are multiple factors that represented major political and social challenges, inducing various demographic evolutions in the direction of dramatic increases through massive settlements or civil divides. For instance, one can cite the 1923 Greek-Turkish Population Exchange “that saw 1.5 million Greek refugees leave Turkey and settle in Greece,” the “Axis Occupation of Greece (1941-45)” and the “Greek Civil War (1946-49).” As such, the neoclassical architectural wave shortly found its end and the remains of that period are rather found in simple exterior building decorations and ornamentations that are adjacent to the “simplified classical” style of architecture. Paired at times with various Art Déco elements from the 1930s, such architectural interactions often add figures of stability and resilience to the elegant and timeless neoclassical character.
It is interesting to note, however, that the fading of the neoclassical boom in Athens did not necessarily signal the end of all external architectural influences in Greece, as it is essential to note the prevalence of the famous French architect Le Corbusier’s principles in the design and construction of various other projects during the interwar period of the 1920s and 1930s. More precisely, it is important to discuss the substantial aftermath of the fourth International Congress of Modern Architecture held in Athens in 1933, which was illustratively titled The Functional City. Le Corbusier was remarkably a firm believer in functionalism in matters of architecture and urban planning; accordingly, he promoted “such characteristics as clean geometric forms and open efficient spaces,” intrinsic to the values of the Modern Movement and the ensuing International style of architecture. Such principles undoubtedly paved the way for the development of modern architecture in Athens. Public schools, for instance, appear to have been heavily influenced by the modern ideals of open and efficient space, as one of their fundamental characteristics is their large horizontal windows providing “even light and panoramic views.” The consequent prevalence of modern polykatoikia is therefore deeply tied to the development of the modern architectural and urban ideal.
Last but not least, when it comes to understanding how such an extensive presence of polykatoikies was made possible, perhaps we should also take a closer look at the adoption of new laws that facilitated the purchase of buildings. This is the case of the “governmental housing policy known as antiparochi,” which favored the construction of buildings even by “non-professionals” in “informal” ways, without necessarily relying on too much capital. Consequently, contemporary Athenian architecture and urban planning resemble in essence a blending of various internal and external influences whose predominance was profoundly altered under the effect of major events of historic, political, economic, legal and social value contributing to the formation of its authentic landscape.
Towards new symbols of cohesion and stability
As mentioned previously, the generalized preference for polykatoikies over neoclassical constructions partly relates to the emergence of new needs for modern comforts, as “the carefully decorated and carved façades, although beautiful and somewhat reminiscent of the (glorious) ancient Greek past, did not satisfy the needs of the 20th century Athenian.” However, the unintentional social implications of such a predominance also form part of one of these buildings’ strongest characteristics.
It is not uncommon for polykatoikies to be attributed the merit of having laid the foundations for a new social organization which appears to be in favor of closer contact between people, often by bridging the gaps between social classes. Polykatoikies have in fact managed to become, more accidentally than not, home to different fragments of the Greek population, as “in a typical polykatoikia, the ground floor would most likely be a shop, a café, a restaurant or a bar, then the first couple of floors would be occupied by the lower social classes while the upper floors would house wealthier families.” Consequently, polykatoikies could very well have turned into contemporary urban symbols of social unity, even resulting in relationships of greater trust and solidarity between groups. Thus, this urban model and the mechanisms it has put in place appear to have managed to curb the “socio-spatial segregation” that can be often observed in contemporary European urban settings, by supporting systems of social diversity and the development of more networks among individuals.
Still, the lack of proper urban policy and planning are increasingly forming part of Athens’ major sufferings, as its diffuse and unorganized nature fails to answer to the city’s contemporary concerns. Over the last decades, the city has been facing multiple environmental issues and various other contemporary challenges that can be traced back to these irregularities, like important traffic jams.
As such, what can one conclude about the reality of the contemporary Athenian urban landscape? The modern polykatoikies oftentimes come out as the neoclassical architecture’s “unworthy” successor, with the neoclassical buildings’ short-lived and scarce presence potentially showcasing a decline of Greece’s own ancient architectural principles. That being said, the amenities and perspectives offered by polykatoikies—despite their mundane appearance—have also participated in Athens’ transformation into the modern metropolis it is as of today and have showcased patterns of social bonding. Their anarchical positioning and nature can however be quite frustrating, to the extent of having even been considered as one of the city’s greater flaws; they have served as evidence of Athens’ severe lack of urban planning in the aftermath of the city’s hasty reconstruction. All these elements are nevertheless shaping the hardships and struggles the country has had to face, alongside the evolutions these phenomena have accompanied.
What is demonstrated at the end of the day by the Athenian case is the extent a city’s appearance is inherent to its historic roots and tumultuous times. In light of this, one could even argue that this is precisely where real cultural value lies: in the narrow space between our ideals and the material representation of all the unavoidable fluctuations and drawbacks that are increasingly forming part of the human experience. Perspectives for a better development of the Greek capital do exist, and carry with them the hope that urban policy in Athens will be able to better meet its residents’ wants and needs in the following decades.