Virgil Declercq : Who keeps heritage alive?
Between memory and transmission: why craft skills are an essential part to Europe’s heritage
When we speak about heritage, we tend to think first of works of art, monuments, castles or historic city centres. We think less often of the skills without which these places could neither be built, maintained nor restored and passed on. Yet built heritage and heritage crafts are inseparable, and they face the same threats: neglect, abandonment, demolition, the disappearance of skills and a lack of collective awareness.
To mark European Heritage Days, we met Virgil Declercq, a recent architecture graduate now studying law. Founder of Communauté Historia, board member of the Union des Artisans du Patrimoine (UAP) and author of HÉRITAGE, he advocates for a vision of heritage that goes beyond preserving the past. We spoke with him about territories, local materials, the essential role of craftspeople and the part that younger generations can play in this transmission.
Heritage: a passion for the young?
You became involved in defending heritage at a very young age. Where did this interest come from?
I have been drawn to heritage since my teenage years, but not only to its historical dimension. I quickly became interested in its materiality, the crafts that keep it alive and the ways in which skills are passed on. Meeting craftspeople made me realise that heritage also involves social, ethical and economic issues, as well as questions surrounding local materials.
I began studying architecture in Liège, then changed faculty several times because I wanted to broaden my perspective and take my thinking further. I also undertook training in Poland and Spain so that I could meet other professionals and discover different approaches to heritage. I did not want to see heritage as something placed in a display case or confined to a museum, but as a living reality, connected to its territory and carrying a European dimension.
Architecture students can complete their education without ever meeting a craftsperson as part of their studies.
Rethinking the territory
HÉRITAGE partly retraces my early years as an architecture student and the questions that arose during that time. In it, I examine the way we look at territories, as well as some of the ideologies and stereotypes that continue to influence architectural education.
In particular, I criticise the considerable importance still given to modernism and the idea of wiping the slate clean, without always placing these references in their proper context. Vernacular architecture is never discussed. Architecture students can complete their education without ever meeting a craftsperson as part of their studies. They rarely have the opportunity to learn from those who possess practical knowledge of materials, traditional techniques and their relationship with the territory.
Architecture has consequently become largely disconnected from local realities, their crafts and their modes of transmission. Yet architectural choices are never neutral: deciding whether to preserve or demolish, whether to use local resources or imported materials, whether to work with craftspeople or rely systematically on subcontracting has social, economic and environmental consequences. In this sense, architecture is profoundly political. Recognising this dimension allows us to better understand the architect’s responsibility and the role architects should play in society.
The Fosses-la-Ville bandstand: defending the heritage of everyday life
Of all the examples of threatened heritage presented in your book, which one has affected you most?
The bandstand in Fosses-la-Ville, because it is neither a castle nor a grand church, but part of a community’s everyday heritage. The bandstand played a role in the Lætare’s Carnival, the town’s major folkloric celebration. Residents gathered there, children climbed onto it and the final rondeau took place around it. It performed a genuine social function at the heart of the town.
When it was threatened with demolition as part of the redevelopment of the town centre, I felt that we could not simply stand by. I contacted residents, and together we brought the matter before the Council of State. This mobilisation made it possible to challenge the decisions made and defend the preservation of the bandstand.
This story illustrates a broader problem: everyday heritage is sometimes treated as secondary, even though it carries our collective memory and provides a meeting place for the community.
Behind every building lies a whole network of crafts
If you had to highlight just one heritage craft or skill, which would you choose?
None, because we should not have to choose. All these crafts form a whole. When we enter a church or a historic building, we should not look only at its function or appearance. We should try to understand how it was built, how it has evolved and what it continues to transmit today.
We then discover the local materials, the craftspeople, the economy of the territory and the building’s social dimension. A church, for example, is not merely a religious building. It can also be seen as a common house, shaped by the crafts and resources of an entire community.
Today, many projects depend on subcontracting and materials imported from far away. At the same time, quarries are closing and some skills are becoming extremely difficult to find. Historic buildings are sometimes insulated with petroleum-based materials, without taking account of how they were originally designed to function. This is a Europe-wide issue. Architects and policymakers therefore need to become far more aware of their responsibility for sustaining local crafts and supply chains.
“Craftspeople are the future of Europe”
What have you learned from working with heritage craftspeople?
I believe that craftspeople represent part of Europe’s future. In a context shaped by artificial intelligence, environmental crises and increasingly scarce resources, manual and technical occupations will become even more essential. We will need to restore more existing buildings, use materials more sparingly and relearn how to work with locally available resources.
But this requires a genuine training policy and greater recognition of these occupations. For twenty years, craftspeople have been hearing promises that their access to public procurement will be simplified and that procurement itself will become more responsible, yet progress remains insufficient. They need concrete measures, including a much stronger presence for their crafts in secondary, technical and vocational education. The house of crafts is burning. Talking is no longer enough: we need to act.
The house of crafts is burning. Talking is no longer enough: we need to act.
Are young people truly rediscovering craftsmanship?
Your generation seems to be showing renewed interest in manual work, patient processes and transmission. Do you share this impression?
Not yet, not truly. Young people may be attracted to the image of craftsmanship or traditional architecture, but they do not always have access to what these things really represent. Heritage can then be reduced to a nostalgic vision of the past, when it should instead help us respond to the challenges of the present.
In this respect, I identify with the thinking of Bruno Latour*, who challenges the opposition between modernity and tradition. Breaking with skills, local materials and the ties that connect us to a territory does not necessarily constitute progress. Conversely, preserving and passing them on does not mean retreating into the past: it can help us respond in very practical ways to today’s social, economic and environmental challenges.
The problem largely stems from education. Young architects can complete their studies without ever meeting a craftsperson, visiting a restoration site or working directly with materials. As a result, they discover neither the social dimension of these crafts, nor their economic rationale, nor their relationship with the territory.
Young people must be given opportunities to experiment, get their hands dirty and meet those who possess this knowledge. Without such experiences, they risk retaining only an image, whereas the essence lies in practice, materials and transmission.
Saving heritage means defending the present
How can we help young people understand that heritage is about more than a few old stones?
We need to speak about tangible realities: local economies, jobs, tourism, materials and transmission. Investing in heritage creates work for craftspeople, businesses, hotels and cafés, benefiting an entire territory. Its preservation is therefore not only about the past. It directly impacts our lives today and our ability to build the future.
Europe has lost part of its industrial and energy independence. Its culture, territories and skills remain among its most precious resources. Protecting them requires a genuine European policy for territories and training.
My vision may be considered conservative, but it is not nostalgic: it defends the present. It seeks to protect what remains and those who continue to keep it alive. Before trying to save the tree’s leaves, we must begin by preserving its roots.
* Bruno Latour (1947–2022), French sociologist, anthropologist, theologian, and philosopher of science.
Regina Garcia Nuñez
