Revaluing Modern Architecture

Changing Conservation Culture

What this book really is

Revaluing Modern Architecture: Changing Conservation Culture is a book about the changing meaning of conservation when the buildings in question are modern rather than ancient. John Allan begins by making the topic sound deceptively simple, then quickly shows how complicated it becomes in practice. He is not only interested in preserving famous buildings. He is interested in the whole cultural and professional framework through which modern architecture is judged, protected, adapted, or lost.

One of the most useful things about the book is that Allan does not treat modern conservation as a settled field. He describes it as a work in progress, still shaped by controversy, ignorance, passion, and neglect. That gives the book energy. It is not a finished doctrine explaining a stable consensus. It is a book written from inside a live debate.

The book’s larger argument

The central argument is that the conservation of modern architecture has to be revalued in two senses. First, modern buildings have to be valued more highly as heritage than they often are. Second, the field itself has to be recalibrated so that it can respond to present needs, especially environmental ones. Allan makes clear that the old modern-conservation model focused heavily on identifying and rescuing a relatively small number of iconic works. He thinks that is no longer enough.

This is where the title becomes especially well chosen. “Revaluing” does not mean only assigning more prestige to modern buildings. It also means recalculating what kinds of value matter: historical, social, operational, environmental, and economic. That expansion of value is the book’s real intellectual core.

Structure and why it works

The dual structure of the book is one of its clearest strengths. Part One, Retrospect, looks backward at the emergence of modern conservation as a field, with chapters on the story so far, authenticity, charters, listing, protection, and weaknesses. Part Two, Prospect, looks ahead, with chapters on the new paradigm, quickfire questions, lessons learned, and changing conservation culture.

This structure is not decorative. It reflects the book’s core method: understand how the field got here, then ask where it has to go next.

That structure also helps Allan avoid writing either a purely historical survey or a purely polemical manifesto. The first half grounds the discussion in institutions, listing history, debates, and conservation theory. The second half then builds a more future-oriented case without sounding detached from reality.

Early book strength: the historical story

The early chapters appear strongest when Allan explains how modern architecture became a conservation issue in the first place. Chapter 1 traces this story from the first listing efforts in the 1970s, especially the influence of Nikolaus Pevsner and the early statutory protection of interwar modernist buildings such as the Penguin Pool and High and Over. Allan shows that the recognition of modern architecture as heritage was not automatic. It had to be argued into being.

This historical account matters because it reminds the reader that modern conservation is relatively young. Ancient monuments and Georgian terraces entered public heritage culture much earlier. Modern buildings had to overcome active dislike, indifference, and the belief that they were too recent to matter. The book is good at showing that today’s conservation debates are built on those older battles over recognition.

Allan is also sharp about the risks of early practice. He notes cases where important modern buildings were altered or even demolished with very little ethical or technical sophistication, despite already being significant. This reinforces one of the book’s recurring themes: recognition alone does not create a culture of good conservation.

Authenticity and why Allan complicates it

The chapter on authenticity seems especially important because Allan refuses to treat originality as a simple or absolute measure. He draws attention to the special difficulty of modern buildings, where industrial production, replacement, upgrading, and system performance can make “original fabric” a much less stable concept than it is often assumed to be. He also points to cases where later changes made by the original architect may themselves count as authentic.

This is a strong part of the book because it helps free the reader from crude thinking. Allan is not dismissing authenticity. He is showing that it has to be argued case by case, especially when dealing with modern buildings whose materials and assemblies often require extensive intervention. He even uses examples like the Barcelona Pavilion and Narkomfin to suggest that restoration, reinstatement, or carefully argued re-creation may sometimes produce more value than preserving ruin for its own sake.

The book’s key turning point: from relics to resources

The most important conceptual move in the book comes in Chapter 7, From Relics to Resources – the New Paradigm. This chapter argues that the first phase of modern conservation was understandably focused on the rescue of major icons. But now that many of those iconic buildings have been identified, attention needs to shift toward the much larger body of “sub-iconic” modern buildings that may not be famous enough to list, but are too numerous, valuable, and materially significant to treat as disposable.

This is where Allan’s thinking becomes especially practical. He says that relying on listing campaigns alone is a high-risk strategy for many of these buildings. If a building fails to gain protection, that failure is often interpreted as permission to demolish it. Instead, he argues for a wider set of arguments: social value, operational performance, economic reuse, and above all environmental value. That is a powerful shift. It reframes conservation not as pleading for exceptions, but as demonstrating usefulness.

The phrase “from relics to resources” is excellent because it captures the shift in tone. In the old paradigm, the conservationist is close to a curator. In the new one, the conservation-minded architect becomes something closer to an alchemist: someone who can combine continuity with transformation and turn an underloved building into an asset for the future.

Why the environmental argument matters so much

Allan’s environmental argument is one of the most persuasive things in the book. He says the Green Agenda is now the only agenda in the strongest sense, and that the embodied energy of existing buildings should increasingly make retention and upgrade more responsible than demolition and rebuilding, whether or not a building is listed. That is a major repositioning of the conservation debate.

This matters because it allows modern conservation to escape from a purely heritage niche. If the “greenest building is the one already built,” then modern conservation is no longer only about historical affection or specialist expertise. It becomes central to climate responsibility, carbon accounting, and the circular economy. Allan is clear that conservation can no longer remain in its own silo if it wants to matter in the next decades.

Practical middle-to-late strength: lessons from adaptation

The practice-based chapters and lessons seem especially valuable because Allan does not stop at theory. He draws on real projects to show how adaptation and reuse can produce both a practical and a heritage dividend. A good example is the Wynford House case in Chapter 9. Allan explains that it was at one level a housing-regeneration project, but it also produced enough heritage value that the local authority later designated the wider estate as a conservation area. He uses this to argue that owners should not assume demolition or disposal is the only route.

That is a very strong practical lesson. It demonstrates one of Allan’s main themes in action: in many cases, the best way to save modern buildings is not to approach them as frozen icons, but to show that good adaptation can deliver real transformation at lower cost and with greater long-term value.

The late chapter and the future

The final chapter, Changing Conservation Culture, brings the argument into the age of climate crisis. Allan says the most important future shift is the merger of conservation, in the heritage sense, with Conservation in the broader environmental sense. He points toward carbon metrics, life-cycle assessment, and consistent evaluation methods as central to the future of the field.

This is a strong ending because it widens the frame without abandoning the book’s earlier concerns. Allan is still talking about heritage, but he is no longer satisfied with conservation as a niche specialist activity. He wants modern-conservation thinking to enter mainstream professional culture, government reform, and environmental practice. In that sense, the book is not nostalgic. It is trying to create a more ambitious future for the field.

Writing style and tone

The tone of the book seems one of its attractions. Allan writes as a practitioner-scholar with a long career in the field, and the front matter makes clear that he has extensive direct experience in modern conservation through Avanti Architects, Docomomo-UK, Historic England committees, and major adaptation projects. That gives the book authority, but it also sounds witty, reflective, and sometimes deliberately provocative.

The Q&A chapter reinforces this. Allan admits that many modern-conservation problems do not have neat one-line solutions and invokes Ove Arup’s habit of answering difficult questions with layered qualifications. That modesty is appealing. It suggests that the book is serious about complexity, even when it argues strongly.

Strengths

The biggest strength is that the book redefines modern conservation in a way that feels both intellectually serious and professionally useful. It does not only defend the past. It shows how heritage, adaptation, and sustainability may converge.

A second strength is Allan’s refusal to romanticize either authenticity or listing. He treats both with respect, but also with realism, especially when dealing with modern buildings that must remain useful if they are to survive.

A third strength is the way the book speaks beyond specialist conservation circles. It keeps returning to owners, users, politicians, and the wider public. That broader address makes the argument more consequential.

Weaknesses

The main limitation is that this is not a narrowly technical handbook. Readers wanting very detailed conservation-science procedures, material repair protocols, or regulatory step-by-step guidance may need additional resources. Allan is more interested in reframing the culture than in producing a manual.

A second limitation is that the book’s perspective is mainly UK-based, especially English in emphasis, even though many of the themes clearly travel beyond that context. That is not a flaw, but international readers will need to translate some of the institutional detail.

Final judgment

My judgment is clearly positive. Revaluing Modern Architecture looks like a thoughtful, forceful, and timely book that argues modern conservation must grow up: from protecting a handful of icons to developing a broader culture of reuse, adaptation, and environmental responsibility. Its strongest contribution is not just defending modern buildings, but redefining why they matter now.

Command Palette