Beauty, Socialism, and Brutalist architecture

Brutalist architecture, known for its abundant use of raw concrete and geometric shapes, has long been a source of outrage and controversy. The imposing buildings have often been critiqued as soulless, boring, and ugly. However, there is of course more to it than meets the eye. This article aims to break down the origin and development of Brutalism as a design aesthetic, along with the political movements that popularized it.

Brutalism emerged in the 1950s following the aftermath of the Second World War, pioneered by British architects like Alison and Peter Smithson. The term “Brutalism” is derived from the French term "béton brut," meaning "raw concrete." [1] Initially, the extensive use of raw concrete was due to the high demand for reparations and housing following the war. Over time, the emphasis on exposed, undecorated concrete evolved to become a reaction against the perceived superficiality and elitism of earlier architectural styles. Brutalist architects prioritized the idea of transparency, where buildings were honest about their materials and purpose. As described by critic Reyner Banham, “Brutalism celebrated the life-enhancing qualities of matter-of-fact materials." Following this philosophy, Brutalism was built as a movement that focused on the ethics of architecture over sheer aesthetics. Through its popularity, the evolution of Brutalism eventually culminated in the promise of a socialist utopia [2]. 

This ethos resonated particularly well in the 1960s and 70s in Eastern Europe, where Brutalism became a dominant style for public buildings as it was seen as the embodiment of the principles of functionality, accessibility, and egalitarianism that underpinned the socialist project [3]. In Eastern Bloc countries like the Soviet Union, Czechoslovakia, and East Germany, Brutalist structures sprung up neatly and rapidly, presenting both the promise of utility and social uniformity. They were meant to serve the practical needs of the state and people - housing, education, and government administration. Unlike traditional architecture that was symbolic of the bourgeoisie and extravagance, raw concrete in utilitarian buildings celebrated labor and equality over ornamentation and personal wealth [4].

Bolshaya Tulskaya residential complex, 1986    vs    Savior on the Spilled Blood church, 1881

Brutalism's association with totalitarianism was no accident - the style of top-down urban planning mirrored the centralized control exerted by authoritarian regimes of the era. Iconic Brutalist landmarks like the Buzludzha Monument in Bulgaria became potent symbols of communist power and a collective identity. However, the political associations that allowed Brutalism to flourish in the Socialist era have since been viewed in a far more negative light, as many former Eastern Bloc countries now view these inscrutable structures as a tangible reminder of the repressive regimes that commissioned them. [5].

Of course, the Eastern Bloc in the Socialist era was not the only instance of Brutalism. The style persists into the modern day, as seen by buildings such as the Boston City Hall.

The building is a prime example of how Brutalist architecture can contradict the ideology of Brutalism as a principle. As a city hall, the building is meant to blur the lines between the citizens and the state, but in actuality is a deeply enclosed space that feels more uncanny than welcoming. The basic idea of transparency is entirely lost, as many examples of Brutalism in the modern era appear uninviting, where the monumental nature and austerity of Brutalist structures seem to only further separate people and state. Additionally, the functionality-over-aesthetics approach of Brutalism has frequently resulted in buildings like the city hall that prioritize rigid practicality and utilitarian purpose over livability. Features like tiny windows and blank interior spaces make Brutalist structures feel more like institutional bunkers than inviting public spaces, and the severe, utilitarian nature of these buildings can create a sense of alienation for those who interact with them. More often than not, Brutalist buildings are far removed from the intent of portraying equality and have instead circled back to being divisive. It is no coincidence that dystopian films such as The Maze Runner, 1984, and The Hunger Games utilize Brutalist architecture to convey a sense of foreboding dread [6].

However, this is not to say Brutalism is inherently bad. In the modern era, even when removed from the connotations of  Socialism, Brutalist buildings continue to create feelings of insignificance in the people who interact with them, and the sense that the structures were not fully built for the people nor the environment. However, when the environment and the architecture are allowed to converse, there can be a beautiful result. One such example is the Hallgrímskirkja Church in Reykjavik. What sets this church apart from other Brutalist structures is the usage of light. By allowing the structure to interact with the natural world, with light pouring in through high vaulted ceilings and large windows, the blankness of the structure suddenly becomes intensely beautiful, as it becomes the canvas for shadows and sunlight to interplay. The brightness of natural light also adds an element of warmth to the otherwise cold white structure, removing the jarringly inscrutable feeling that so many Brutalist structures are unable to shake.

Hallgrímskirkja is a prime example of how brutalism can be beautiful when it is built for the people and the environment, showing how brutalism does not need to be austere and unfeeling. 

In conclusion, Brutalism can be austere, pretentious, and dismissive. Its entanglement with Socialist ideologies in the Eastern Bloc has significantly shaped Brutalism’s reputation and lasting legacy as an aesthetic, playing a part in the style’s unpopularity that persists into the modern day. However, utilizing Brutalism as a background for nature draws attention not to the inscrutability of the structures themselves but rather how they can interact with the environment. When done correctly, Brutalism can be beautiful.

[1]: Brutalist Architecture: Everything You Need to Know 

[2]: What is: Brutalism? | HENI Talks 

[3]: How Brutalism Tricks You With Concrete 

[4]: Concrete Estates: The Legacy of Soviet-Era Housing | ArchDaily 

[5]: Why You Either Love or Hate Brutalism - Dwell 

[6]: Why Dystopia Loves Brutalism | MEDIUM 

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