In this time of unprecedented change amidst the COVID pandemic, not forgetting a transformational election result for Aotearoa, it’s not surprising that all manner of experts are making all manner of predictions about the future.

See, for example, London starchitect Norman Foster’s musings to the United Nations Forum of Mayors in Geneva in mid-October when he predicted that sustainable buildings could become mainstream. 

Foster’s thesis is that architectural change moves in big arcs of history, where big events simply accelerate change that was always going to happen: e.g. the Great Fire of 1666 (building codes and fireproof brick) and the cholera epidemic of the mid-19th century (the birth of modern sanitation).

Other architects see architectural change that was not already happening arising directly from COVID. Sergey Makhno predicts a dramatic transformation in home design (death of the open plan, separated entrances and kitchens, home as the new office) and Michelle Ogundehin outlines ways interiors of future houses will be designed to mitigate coronavirus (air and water filtration systems, and the revival of libraries, larders and utility rooms).

Foster’s argument melds the COVID crisis with the climate crisis by saying sustainable design will accelerate. Similar arguments arise among those promoting post-COVID stimulus packages tied to a low-carbon recovery – stimuli that would not only initiate the significant emissions reductions needed to reduce climate change but also create more jobs and economic growth. 

Foster argues that green buildings with natural ventilation “are not only good for your health, but they enable you to perform better”. He notes that these kinds of buildings are now the exception but, post-COVID, “they could become mainstream”.

Could they? While many architects already design with sustainability very much in mind, it’s mostly of the operationally sustainable kind, with natural ventilation, heaps of insulation and following passive design principles. Hence our government’s “warm, dry” healthy home initiatives. All of this makes a lot of sense. A recent International Energy Agency report comparing a range of green stimulus schemes, from refurbishing buildings to incentivising electric vehicle uptake, estimated that, for every million dollars invested into boosting buildings’ energy efficiency, between nine and 30 jobs were created – significantly more than for any other sustainable initiative. 

That’s what economist Joseph Stiglitz has long been advocating: for governments to focus on “double duty” in the COVID recovery to ensure their investments create jobs and stimulate the economy while reshaping it in a greener, more sustainable direction. 

Our building industry should double down on double duty. Go one better – beyond low or zero-carbon to energy-positive or carbon-negative buildings. That’s what the architects, engineers and environmentalists of the Powerhouse alliance in Norway are doing – creating energy-positive buildings in a country with some of the coldest and darkest winters on earth. They began with a question: Is it possible not only to eliminate the carbon footprint of buildings but also to use buildings as a proactive climate-crisis solution? Worldwide, buildings account for about 40 per cent (here, around 20 per cent) of CO₂ emissions, comprising operational emissions and embodied carbon emissions that come from the buildings’ construction.

The answer to the question: yes. Norwegian firm Snøhetta has pledged to design only carbon-negative buildings – projects that will generate more energy than they consume over their lifetimes.

Its Powerhouse Brattørkaia building produces more than double the amount of electricity it consumes daily, thanks to some 3000m2 of solar panels.

UK architects Feilden Clegg Bradley Studios show it’s possible to achieve similar results another way. The sequestered carbon contained in the timber of its six-storey Old Paradise Street office in London compensates for the carbon emissions generated during its construction process as well as the first 60 years of its use.

Can we do the same here? We already are but such buildings are the exception rather than the rule and tend to cost more. Our home advantage lies in our easy-access, sustainable timber. Examples include Studio Pacific’s Nelson Airport Terminal, which has about 300 tonnes of CO₂ sequestered in its innovative timber construction. Then there’s Scion’s campus building in Rotorua, by RTA Studio and Irving Smith, with its slender, timber diagrid and double-skin passive ventilation façade. It’s likely to set a new benchmark for carbon-negative buildings, not to mention making world-leading advances in timber technology. 

To double down on this double duty potential of creating fewer emissions and more negative-carbon industry jobs, any stimulus package starts with a robust carbon-accounting framework to calculate the total carbon footprints of buildings: a framework that goes beyond net-zero carbon to account for all the energy and emissions that go into making the various materials used, such as solar panels. With such accounting, we could start to address the barriers to rooftop solar uptake, including upfront installation costs and the very low prices paid by power companies when they buy excess power back.

Stimulus schemes could change those feed-in rates so that, when your house or building produces more power than it consumes (including its embodied carbon), there’s an incentive of being paid market rates for the clean power produced. Giving-back-more-than-you-take solutions should be celebrated and incentivised, not punished as they are at present. It should be the same for new buildings that are completely carbon negative over their lifetimes. Incentives for such heroic achievement might include waiving consent costs. The effect would be to make carbon-negative buildings lauded and highly visible. Who knows? They could become the norm: warm, dry, carbon-negative homes.