Bioregional architecture is growing in popularity. As one of construction’s latest buzzwords, in its simplest sense the discipline refers to how humans have constructed shelters since time immemorial—out of natural materials in ways that best protect them from local conditions.
The resurgence of bioregionalism comes at a time when climate change and ecological factors are driving greater awareness of the impacts of human habitation on nature and her ecosystems. But there is much more to bioregional architecture than exploring and adapting ancient building methods and design solutions to modern settings.
Rather than a recent concept, bioregional design as a movement has been in development since the 1970s, driven by philosophy and a deep understanding of the place that respect for all life holds in maintaining balance across complex biological systems in both nature and in society. At the time, thought leaders like Peter Berg, Raymond Dasmann, and Gary Snyder—all early pioneers of bioregionalism—pointed out that, to create truly thriving, sustainable communities that live in harmony with nature, urban developers must consider the long-term impact of human habitation on the land, water bodies, air, fauna and flora, and the land itself. In addition to these considerations, settler communities and those who comprise them, alongside Indigenous peoples and their traditions, cultural systems, and livelihoods, should hold equal value in the consideration of conscious, and therefore responsible, placemaking.
Born in 1937, Peter Berg was an environmental activist who first introduced the philosophy of “reinhabitation” (pursuing sustainable living in a single area), while making bioregionalism an accepted concept through his work with Planet Drum Foundation, which he established in San Francisco in 1973. Berg also co-authored a seminal work, Renewable Energy and Bioregions: A New Context For Public Policy published in 1980, where he takes a stand against energy policies being based on political boundaries, calling for ecological boundaries like natural watersheds to become the guiding principle for resource matching and energy planning instead—alongside highlighting the crucial role of balancing human demand for resources with ecological capacity and the cultures interfaced with these systems.
On the other hand, close collaborator, Raymond Dasmann, was a respected wildlife biologist, biogeographer, and conservation ecologist, born in 1919. Together, Berg and Dasmann established a scientific link between human culture and the ecological and geographic spheres within which they naturally exist. Dasmann authored the book A Different Kind of Country, where he discusses the importance of maintaining Indigenous communities, wilderness, and untouched land, juxtaposed with the need for urban renewal and diversifying cities within an ecologically responsible framework.
Berg and Dasmann were joined by Gary Snyder, an ecologist, essayist, and poet who was honoured with the Pulitzer Prize for his anthology, Turtle Island, a collection of poetry encapsulating the ecological, spiritual, and cultural nuances of living in conscious communion with nature in North America. The title was derived from the Indigenous name for the continent, based on First Peoples’ creation histories describing how the continent came into existence on the back of a giant turtle. The trio worked hard to make mainstream society conscious of the importance of practising bioregional design inclusively and from a holistic societal and ecological perspective.
In a 1977 essay, Reinhabiting California, published in The Economist, Raymond and Dasmann referred to those who seek to restore the land and its systems to their original health, provide for their own basic needs from local resources, and in this way dedicate themselves to “living-in-place” as reinhabitants. Reinhabitants, those who understand how to thrive in harmony with nature while returning injured ecosystems to health and living off the land, were contrasted with invaders, those without regard for their impact on the land they inhabit or its living systems beyond that of economic appropriation and exploitation.
While full adoption of the greater idea of bioregional architecture and design in its entirety currently appears comparatively slow, modern construction is increasingly looking at the past—and future—to learn how to harness time-honoured wisdom in modern settings to reduce the impacts of buildings on the environment while providing optimal comfort and function to inhabitants.
Construction developments that incorporate organic, local materials and design solutions best suited to their local geographic, climatic, and other factors while considering their social impact through bioregional architecture can, potentially, change how we inhabit the planet and coexist for good. And interest in the subject seems to be growing.
At present, the World Economic Forum’s (WEF) Centre for Urban Transformation notes bioregional design as growing in popularity as a result of economic disruption and climate change around the globe, as a means of preserving local cultures through design while adapting to a changing world. Moreover, economic factors follow as the WEF foresees a new marketplace developing from the discipline as climate events and related changes increasingly affect industry, according to its statistics.
With the WEF’s Centre for Urban Transformation noting that over 70 percent of operating costs for businesses are directly related to local conditions, designing buildings that can reduce these figures by working with rather than against local landscapes and changing weather patterns reflects a crucial need for a return to honouring ancestral knowledge alongside modern technologies.
A few recently completed buildings where such aspects were considered stand out. In North America, 2150 Keith Drive in Vancouver, British Columbia is North America’s tallest bioregionally designed and constructed building at 10 storeys high. It is constructed entirely from natural materials. The aim was to optimally reduce the building’s ecological footprint while maximizing building performance. This was achieved in several ways, including rainwater harvesting and the optimal use of daylight.
A report by the WEF states that by replacing concrete with purpose-specific timber, the building’s greenhouse gas emissions were reduced by over 1,600 tonnes. The architecture also replaces the traditional central concrete support system with an innovative building envelope comprising an exoskeleton providing structural support for weight-bearing components.
Further afield, another exciting example of bioregional architecture, design, and construction may soon become a global first amongst the world’s universities. In Africa, the Rwanda Institute for Conservation Agriculture (RICA) was built by 300 local builders educated in sustainable construction. The project, by MASS in Gashora, Bugesera District is bringing to life a 1,400-hectare, off-grid campus that aims to make itself a carbon-positive facility. Nearly 100 percent of its materials were sourced locally from the natural environment, including local timber, stone, and rammed earth blocks, while water is recycled on the premises. A solar array provides 1.5 megawatts of electricity, and regenerative land practices care for the Earth. The area’s original biodiversity and sensitive wetlands are also being restored in the process.
The World Economic Forum is playing an active role in driving the movement. With harmonious ecological and human exchange now being a guiding factor for its Davos Baukultur Alliance, placing bioregional architecture and construction at the core of its mission for regenerative urban development means that a focus on community well-being and protecting traditional cultures must drive social cohesion in ways that traditional architecture lacked for decades, and too often still does.
As its early proponents noted in the 1970s, bioregionalism cannot be considered as a mere design discipline isolated from its social responsibility. They argued that, due to the humanitarian aspect of how we use, divide, and exploit land and nature, decolonization and bioregionalism must be considered concurrently, as the mindset of colonization informs how Western society designs, how its communities form, and how communities are organized within this context while granting or denying access to natural resources. With the discipline slowly becoming more prominent, it would be encouraging to see these inclusive, ecologically sound values remain a guiding factor in bioregional design around the world as a means of achieving resolution between communities and the ecological systems they inhabit.
