Canberra's heritage wars: why locals are fighting over which buildings define the city

The National Archives building on Queen Victoria Terrace doesn't look threatened. Its clean lines and modernist form sit comfortably in the Parkes landscape, a textbook example of 1960s institutional design. But walk into the Canberra Heritage Council offices two kilometres away on Constitution Avenue and you'll find staff fielding calls about demolition proposals almost daily.

Heritage protection in Canberra has become unexpectedly contentious. The territory's heritage database lists 1,847 places worth protecting, yet developers, residents and heritage advocates are locked in disputes about which buildings actually deserve that protection and why. Unlike Sydney or Melbourne, where heritage usually means Victorian terraces or federation-era mansions, Canberra's debate centres on defending modernist structures from the 1950s to 1970s—a period many Canberrans remember living through, making it feel uncomfortably recent to call heritage at all.

The tension crystallised when multiple planning applications threatened mid-century residential buildings across Forrest and Red Hill last year. The Canberra Modernism Alliance, a group of architects and residents, launched a campaign documenting buildings designed by prominent figures like Philip Jackson and Alistair Knox. They've photographed examples on Eucalyptus Street in Forrest and Kurrajong Street in Red Hill, arguing these houses represent a coherent architectural philosophy worth preserving.

"People built these homes deliberately," says the alliance's public materials. "We're not talking about accident or happenstance." The group points to the consistency of design across these neighbourhoods—timber detailing, open-plan living, integration with the garden landscape—as evidence of intentional urban planning that shaped how Canberrans lived.

When progress meets preservation

The problem is straightforward economics. A 1960s four-bedroom house in Forrest currently sells for around $895,000, while the land beneath it might be worth more than the structure itself. Developers see opportunity. A single dwelling can become two townhouses or a small apartment complex. For homeowners, selling to a developer with demolition plans means faster settlement and potentially higher prices than finding a buyer who wants to preserve the original structure.

The ACT Heritage Council processed 247 assessment applications in the 2024-25 financial year alone. Just 18 places were added to the territory's heritage register. That gap—between the number of buildings considered and those actually protected—tells you everything about the pressure cooker Canberra has become.

The Australian National University's School of Cybernetics building on Daley Road offers a different angle on this debate. Completed in 1970 and designed by Utzon Associates (the firm behind the Sydney Opera House), the brutalist structure is already heritage-listed. Yet it remains isolated—a protected building surrounded by developments from different eras, its original context erased. Some heritage advocates argue this demonstrates the problem: protect individual buildings and you end up with monuments in a sea of new construction, their meaning lost.

Defining Canberra's actual identity

The deeper question animating these conversations is what Canberra actually is. The city's postwar modernist housing represents something Australia rarely got right—planned suburbs designed by serious architects, not speculative subdivisions. Places like Forrest were constructed with deliberate principles about density, garden space and community living. That philosophy shaped how several generations of Canberrans experienced home and neighbourhood.

But those generations are aging. Children who grew up in these mid-century houses are selling them now. Their parents' generation built the capital; the current generation is inheriting the decision about whether to preserve it.

If you own one of these properties, your option is to have a conversation with the Canberra Heritage Council before selling to a developer. The process is free, though having a building assessed for heritage significance takes time—typically three to four months. Meanwhile, the market moves on. Developers with unconditional contracts aren't patient.

The real test comes next year, when several mid-century properties across inner Canberra neighbourhoods face planning decisions simultaneously. How the council and the planning authority handle these cases will determine whether Canberra ends up preserving its distinctive identity or dismantling it block by block.