Heritage too important to waste on carparks and substations

Australia is a country rightly proud of its heritage. We preserve convict sites, historic homesteads and architectural landmarks not merely for nostalgia, but because they tell us something meaningful about who we are. But somewhere along the way, our heritage system appears to have lost the plot.

The Heritage Howlers awards were created to highlight this drift — and, admittedly, to have a bit of fun along the way. Because if a seven-storey concrete carpark being treated as a cultural treasure doesn’t make you laugh, what will?

Which brings us neatly to the inaugural winner: a carpark in Carlton, Victoria. Heritage listing ensures future generations can continue to enjoy its damp ramps and eau de exhaust fumes — rather than seeing it replaced by something as frivolous as housing.

In second place are electricity substations across Merri-bek, Victoria, and Sydney’s Inner West. These small brick boxes, often decorated with the avant-garde artistic efforts of truant teens, are preserved so future historians can reflect on the heroic struggle to convert high-voltage current into something suitable for a toaster.

Coming in third is the MLC Building in North Sydney, which bravely answers the question: what if a filing cabinet became an office tower? Preserving the building ensures future Australians can marvel at a time when architectural ambition peaked at ‘very large rectangle’.

Among the other contenders, the Warringah Civic Centre stands as a proud monument to the architectural principle that if you pour enough concrete in one place, history will eventually happen to it. Few structures have so successfully captured the spirit of municipal meetings, which also tend to be grey, impenetrable and slightly depressing.

The Cameron Offices in ACT’s Belconnen are celebrated as “a significant example of structuralism and brutalism”. In plain English that means: “lots of concrete arranged in ways that slightly confuse pigeons”.

Returning to Carlton, the former Cancer Council building enjoys protection largely because it happens to be near something else that is protected — widely regarded as the most efficient method of expanding the heritage register indefinitely. Its contribution? Large blank walls decorated with occasional efforts to empty the contents of spray paint cans.

Not to be outdone, a Bayside carport has been nominated for its “local significance”, proving that greatness sometimes comes from a roof held up by a few sagging poles. 

And the West Gate service station is preserved for its ability to capture the golden age of motoring — a time when one could purchase petrol, a pie and mild existential dread all in one stop.

Land a few kilometres from Parliament House in Canberra is reserved for growing turf. Because once there was an old dairy there.

All of this might be amusing — once you get over the stupidity of it — but it also highlights a serious issue. Heritage listing is not free. It restricts redevelopment and locks up land that could otherwise be used more productively.

The housing crisis is a major social problem and heritage restrictions make it worse. That trade-off is justified for genuinely important places. It is not justified for carparks, substations and particularly unmemorable rectangles.

The weirdness of some decisions reflects an underlying problem. Heritage decisions are being made by an unrepresentative clique whose values are not those of the community. Heritage legislation requires an overhaul to require that the benefits of heritage listing are compared with costs, including the damage to housing affordability..

Australia can and should preserve its heritage. But if everything is heritage, then nothing is.

At some point, we need to distinguish between what is truly worth saving and what is, quite simply, a howler.

Dr Peter Tulip is chief economist at the Centre for Independent Studies.