Grenfell’s demolition: loss, memory, and a determination that it must never happen again

Grenfell Tower is set to be demolished over the next two years, to the concern of some survivors and relatives of the victims of the disaster. They worry that without the visible reminder of the tragedy, it will be ‘out of sight, out of mind’. The demolition of the tower has largely been explained by safety concerns, as the damaged structure is continuing to deteriorate and becoming unsafe. 

This all seems very sensible, but I can understand the feelings of those whose lives have been impacted by the fire. For them, the stark reminder on the London skyline must seem necessary – a towering, plastic-swathed and deeply uncomfortable symbol to the construction industry and to the government of the greed and incompetence, even if unintentional, that led to their loss. I would want it to stay there too.

The tragedy of Grenfell has spiralled beyond the lives of the survivors. It has catalysed changes for better and for worse. The legislation that has sprung from it has made some tower residents safer and trapped others in homes they cannot sell.

Companies and entirely new arms of construction consulting have appeared, while other firms have gone into liquidation, as a complete industry slowly grinds to a halt dealing with new paperwork processes. The contractor re-cladding the tower I live in has told me that roughly a third of their business is now re-cladding buildings they built before the changes.

Standing or not, the burnt husk of Grenfell Tower has left a mark that falls much further than its shadow and will last much longer than its deteriorating concrete.

As Robert Bevan argues in The Destruction of Memory, there is a horror and fascination to the destruction of buildings. They are so apparently permanent, we expect them to last longer than us. We are outraged when they do not. This reaction has been weaponised to great psychological effect throughout history.

To take some comparatively recent examples, we could look to Da’esh levelling Palmyra, the Nazis destroying synagogues, and the destruction of mosques in the Bosnian War. All of these attacks were designed to cause shock and horror, to subdue a people by denying them not only a future but the evidence of their past.

Such destruction should be guarded against and watched for, urges Bevan, quoting the the words of Raphael Lemkin, who drafted the 1948 Genocide Convention, “Burning books is not the same as burning bodies… but when one intervenes… against mass destruction of churches and books one arrives just in time to prevent the burning of bodies.”

With one imperfect step after another, the whole industry may move forwards, and this tragedy may not be repeated

Then there is accidental destruction, such as the fire at Windsor Castle in 1992 or at Notre Dame Cathedral in 2019. The destruction is not malicious or deliberate, but it is nonetheless shocking. When symbols of a country, a faith, or simply the longevity of great craftsmanship crumble in mere hours, we are uncomfortably reminded of how easy it is to destroy and tear down. To build up takes so much longer.

The fire at Grenfell is tragic in another way. It was not an act of war. It was not an ‘act of God’. It was a litany of small and large failures that led to the deaths of seventy-two people. This destruction is shocking because it was caused by a series of somethings so human and so avoidable.

The government has stated that the remains of Grenfell Tower will be ‘dismantled sensitively’. This is not possible. Dismantling is destruction and is inherently violent – one cannot destroy with respect. But Grenfell Tower must come down, if for no other reason than because it is unsafe.

Its destruction will be violent and uncomfortable, no matter how respectfully the demolition contractor undertakes it. In the wake of this gaping wound, however, there is the opportunity for new growth. The Building Safety Act may be the first green shoot, the memorial to the victims another, the renewed insistence on competence of construction professionals a possible third.

With one imperfect step after another, the whole industry may move forwards, and this tragedy may not be repeated. Because destruction of buildings is really, truly horrific only when it is callous and wanton. Were we to let Grenfell happen again, the horror would be tenfold.

>> Also read: Grenfell Tower: what happens next will define how we remember