There are increasingly more “war-ready” options in the buildings we are constructing

For some, this represents the worst-case scenario among all possible multiverses; for others, the predictable outcome of misguided policies. For yet others, it is simply a historical cycle. Beyond these perspectives, the fact remains that architecture is no longer only concerned with the “after” of a catastrophe, but with the “during,” increasingly moving toward solutions that consider war and the climate crisis as permanent conditions.

As a result, buildings with integrated defensive features are proliferating: multifunctional day-to-day spaces that transform into protected areas in emergencies, modular shelters, and temporary housing units designed to address climate and humanitarian crises.

The Holy Trinity Church in Kyiv, for example, was designed by Aranchii Architects not only as a place of worship but also as an air-raid shelter. The project—which received a special mention this year from the organizers of the “Creator of the Year” award for its design—was conceived to meet the safety and community-gathering needs of the Obolon district in Kyiv, one of the areas most affected by Russian missiles. It includes an underground air-raid shelter accessible from outside the building, a garden, and a public square. The cross-shaped floor plan references traditional Ukrainian churches, but the ensemble is reinterpreted in a contemporary key: semi-transparent façades that amplify natural light and a zenithal cross piercing the dome turn the building into a sort of urban lantern.

Also in Ukraine—which increasingly appears as the epicenter of this discourse—the first purpose-built underground school opened in Kharkiv in 2024, six meters below ground, enabling in-person classes even during missile attacks. In Kyiv, Pavilion 13, a former modernist pavilion, was converted into a cultural hub with a sloping underground gallery that can also function as a shelter. At this year’s Venice Architecture Biennale, the Ukrainian pavilion similarly put frontline architecture at the center of the debate, presenting a “dakh”: a roof linked to the country's vernacular tradition, adapted as an “emergency vernacular” to offer shelter from a war fought largely in the skies. 

At the Biennale, Latvia also exhibited a series of anti-tank devices—such as Czech hedgehogs and dragon’s teeth—arranged like urban furniture. The implication is, of course, a possible ground invasion by the Russian army. The installations were presented in striking fluorescent yellow, leaving some visitors disoriented. As emerged from informal conversations with several curators, Europe is already split between countries where only the older generations have experienced war and those where people are practically born into it.

As seen during the days of clashes with Iran, when TikTok footage from Tel Aviv showed Bar Mitzvah celebrations safely held underground, Israel is no exception—a country practically in a permanent state of war since its founding. Here, the newest kindergartens and schools are built with integrated shelters, air filters, and digital connections, allowing them to become protected spaces in seconds. In Germany, the government has initiated plans to convert parking lots, stations, and offices into urban shelters, while Switzerland is updating its extensive network of civil bunkers dating back to the Cold War.

This “dual-use architecture” is not entirely new. Its lineage includes prominent figures like Shigeru Ban, who has experimented since the 1990s with temporary shelters made of paper tubes and lightweight partition walls to ensure privacy and dignity in reception spaces. His Paper Partition System was used in the displaced-person camps following the Kobe earthquake (1995), in Turkey-Syria (2023), and more recently in shelters for evacuees of the Los Angeles wildfires (2025). On Domus in 2023, we interviewed him about his most recent projects in Ukraine.

But there is another war humanity is fighting—and likely losing—against the climate crisis. One need only recall the 2013 competition launched after Hurricane Sandy by Obama’s Hurricane Sandy Rebuilding Task Force, which awarded projects like Bjarke Ingels Group’s BIG U: a green, defensive ring designed to protect Manhattan from rising waters.

What has changed since then is that this time, we are no longer in a “post-disaster” framework: architectural solutions do not arrive after catastrophe but coexist directly with conflict, situated within the emergency itself. Not post-war, but intra-war. A condition in which churches, schools, museums, and squares inevitably also become permanent shelters.

Opening image:  Aranchii Architects, Holy Trinity Church, Obolon district, Kyiv, 2025. Courtesy Aranchii Architects